#it’s all good I’m just gonna go scream into the void

[i-have-zero-chill]

and when Buck dances with Tommy at the madney wedding and Eddie watches from afar all by himself with a longing look on his face THEN WHAT????

[beomsjoongie]

⌗fill the void⌗

genre: smut, San x Reader

warnings: I’ll update later, but praising, slight overstim, pussy eating, drunk/tipsy sex, fingering, drinking, clubbing (2.3k words)

a/n: hey!!! it’s been a while.. uhh but I’m back and I’m gonna try and post more. college is about to start again and I really might be busy but I will try to post a lot before then to make up for lost time AND to make up for time that I wont have while I’m in class. Uhh, I was working on a mingi story but I lost motivation but I hope to get it back!! let’s just hope that I can be more consistent!! that’s all for rn, see you next time, enjoy! <333

You lie on your back, facing the ceiling. You’ve been like this for days; not wanting to get up and do anything. Your friends had been blowing up your phone before showing up and letting themselves in.

Now standing around you, both of your friends sighed, “Come on, Y/n. You can’t lay here forever.” Your redhaired friend, Andrea, spoke out, gesturing to your state. “Get up.” She started to pull your arm but you made sure to force your weight down.

Letting out and putting her hand on her other forehead, your other friend spoke. “Y/n,” she sat on your messy bed, “We love you. And us letting you stay like this, is basically saying that we don’t. Cheating sucks. Trust us, we both know.” Emery rubbed your hand.

You turned to look at her with tears eyes, “But, I loved him.” You started to cry again. Emery looked at Andrea with a sigh. “But we love you more, Y/n. And not only does this break up hurt you but it hurts us.” Emery stood up again. “Yeah, it hurts to see you like this. All sad and sluggish. That’s why we want to help you.”

You groaned, putting a pillow on your face but getting it snatched off almost immediately. “How are you going to help me? I’m helpless.”

“We’re gonna take you out. Remember how I got cheated on last year and you guys forced me to go out the next day. I wasn’t even allowed to be sad.” Emery reminded.

It was true. It was your idea in the first place. Suggesting to go out to a club and drink the night away until she forgot about her ex who cheated on her with her brother. Yes.. her own blood brother.

“Now, get up.” Andrea said. You sat up, before getting pulled out of bed by Emery and Andrea. You look back at my bed, half eaten chips bags and bottles on it. It was a mess. “You can clean that later. Go get in the shower. Wash everything, shave everything, make sure you smell like your about to get your ass ate. Go.” She said pushing me in the bathroom.

“But I don’t have clo-“ You started to speak. “We’ll find you some. Shower.” Emery said and closed the door. They looked in my closet as I showered. You shaved your body, and used my most expensive products.

I stepped out of the bathroom, in a towel. “You smell so much better.” Andrea said with a smile. I went to speak but closed my mouth and furrowed my eyebrows. “No offense.” She cracked a small smile before looking at Emery.

“Anyways, get dressed. We’ll do your makeup when you’re done!” Emery pushed you back in the bathroom with the clothes. Sighing, you put the clothes on. You looked in the mirror and shook your head.

This dress was short and tight. Not to mention, it having no straps and showing the right amount of cleavage while it also had a large dip in the back which stopped just above your ass.

Walking out, Emery and Andrea looked at you and screamed. “You look so good! So much better than those sweatpants.” Andrea hugged you. You started to feel a little better about yourself, forgetting about your ex.

A smile played on your face as Emery sat you down. “It’s time to put my cosmetology degree to work.” She got out her makeup, Andrea sitting me down in a chair.

After about an hour sitting in the chair with Enemy beating your face and doing your hair, you were finally ready. Andrea went to change while she did your makeup. Emery was done and left to go get her outfit on herself, already having her makeup on.

Andrea handed you a pair of black heels, and stood you up. Emery came out of the bathroom fixing her hair. “Are we ready?”

“Where are we going?” I asked the two girls in front of me. “To the club. Now, come on. Go, go.” Andrea gestured for me to walk. Soon enough, we were at the club. It was around 11:30 and the girls were ready to get blackout drunk. You on the other hand, just wanted to forget about your ex and maybe get a little tipsy.

About 30 minutes in to actually getting there, your friends had already left to dance and flirt with the guys there. Sitting at the bar, and taking a shot, a buff guy walks up and orders two drinks. After getting his drinks, he slid one to you.

You look up to see the cat-eyed man. He smiled at you, “You looked lonely.” He smiled and took a sip of his alcohol. His smile seemed warm, so you wasted no time to take a sip as well. “I’m San, by the way.”

“I’m Y/n.” You shook his hand with a smile. It was soft and a little cold. Letting go, the smile stayed on your face.

“So, why are you here, Y/n? Why are you all alone?” He asked. All of the feelings and hurt suddenly started to rush back into my brain. San noticed the hurt on my face. “Hey, are you ok? I’m sorry, did I-“

“No, it’s fine. Trust me. It’s just that, uh, my boyfriend kind of cheated.. and I’m not here alone. I just didn’t wanna dance with my friends.” You let out a short laugh. He nodded his head, understandingly.

Taking another sip of my drink, he began to speak again, “well, maybe we can dance together?” He proposed. I smiled to him, shaking my head with a smile. “Please, I can make you forget about him. And, a bonus, I get to dance with a pretty girl.”

Butterflies fluttered in your stomach hearing the compliment. It didn’t take long for you to think about it and for you to be on the dance for with San. The music was loud and fun, both of you laughing and having a good time. You’d both go back and forth from the bar to dancing, which ended up making you very tipsy.

In the middle of a very upbeat and happy song, the Dj switched the song to a more sensual and slower song. San’s hands gripped onto your hips, bringing them to his hips; his hips were carved perfectly for your ass. His hands were big, strong, rough and still a little cold. You didn’t even notice your friends watching you and him from the other corner of the room, giggling and smiling while still talking to the boys they’re with.

San was more tipsy than you; some could just say actually drunk. But in his drunken state, San was still able to take notice of how your body felt. How you were still so tense. “Hey, you’re tense. Let me make you forget.” His lips were close to your ear, his voice ringing in your ears. You look back at him, nodding your head.

Not really caring where he took you, San led you out of the club building, and into his car. As he started to drive, his hand rubbed up and down your thigh, finally feeling the roughness of his callused hand.

It felt like forever until you pulled up to a big white house. Before you could reach for the handle, San opened the door for you, helping you out. and in your tipsy state, you could tell how much San was holding back.

San opened the door, holding your hand. If he was honest, he didn’t know how he was able to not push you on the couch and fuck your brains out right there.

He led you upstairs, and into his room when he finally had enough. He turned you around, gently pushing you onto his bed. A small gasp left your lips when he took his shirt off and climbed on top of you.

You had to admit, it was a really nice view. His tones abs, muscles and his perfectly sculpted face had your panties soaked. “Let me take your mind off everything. Please.” His question came out as a beg. I nodded my head.

That was all he needed to start kissing down your neck and onto your chest. He grabbed onto the dress, at the top, and pulled it down. When he uncovered your boobs, he didn’t waste time to sucking on them. He started with the left one. His tongue prodding at your nipple while his hand groped your other boob, pinching your other nipple.

You bit your lips back at his tongue and fingers. “Let me hear you,” he lifted his head up, only to go back to it. My jaw dropped as he switched to the other nipple. Moans flowed out of your mouth as he continued.

He lifted his head and pulled the dress all the way down to your ankles. His lips teased your thighs, kissing on both. You sat on your elbows, looking at him. “San, please.“ You whimpered.

“Tell me what you want, princess.” He kissed closer to your dripping pussy. A sigh left your lips, “your mouth, your lips, anything.” He let out a stifled groan at your begging.

“Ok, princess, anything for you.” His smirk grew as he pulled down your wet panties. “You’re soaking wet, baby.” He smirks. He didn’t want you to suffer too long, yet, so he immediately pushed your legs to your chest.

His tongue dove deep into your wet and sparkling cunt, his nose poking and slightly rubbing against your clit. A loud moan leaving your lips. You grabbed onto his hair, tugging on it. “S-san. Ah!” You moaned when he pulled out his tongue and nibbled on your clit.

“You’re doing so well, baby.” He smiled at you. Your legs were shaking the smallest amount. Heat spread throughout your body as well as San’s. You threw your head back as you felt the coil in your abdomen get tighter and tighter until it finally snapped.

You came in San’s mouth with a moan. Your juices were spread out on his which was now dribbling down his chin. “Wanna know how good you taste?” He asked before kissing you. You both continued to kiss while he was unbuckling his pants, throwing them down.

He grabbed your legs, wrapping them around his waist. “I’m gonna fuck you so raw, so deep. I’m gonna fill that void inside of you, ok?” His finger fucked you for a few seconds to prep you for his cock.

It wasn’t small but it wasn’t big. And its thickness made up for that. His tip was a darker shade of pink from being trapped in his jeans for too long. Just seeing it made you clench around nothing.

He sucked his fingers, tasting more of you. “You taste so good, baby. Are you ready?” He asked. “I’m ready. Please fuck me dumb.” You begged for him.

“So, good for me.” He pushed his cocked in, bottoming out immediately. Your hands flew to his back, grasping onto it desperately. Read marks already coming up as you scratched down his back. He hissed. “Can I move?” He asked, pushing hair out of your face.

“Yes, please.” You whined. He started to move his hips into yours. High pitched moans slowly came out. Your heels dug into his lower back, but that didn’t last for long. He took your legs off from his hips, putting your legs on his shoulders. He picked up the pace, fucking into you deep like he said.

He watched as your face morphed and whines and begs came out of mouth. Your mind was fuzzy and all you felt was his cocked ramming into your cervix. Your back arched, almost lifting you up a bit.

You could now feel the vein popping out in his cock which just added extra pleasure to your core. “S-San, fuck! Shit,” you drug out as his hips hit harder and faster.

“I’m keeping my promise aren’t I?” He asked. You could barely even remember his promise. All that you could focus on, was how good his cock felt in your pussy. And all that you could hear were wet sounds, his groans and your moans bouncing off the walls. Overstimulation was starting to get to you, but it was too nice to tell him to stop.

“Fucking you so good. You like it don’t you?” He asked, that stupid smirk on his face. “I love it, San. Your cock is so good,” you moaned harshly, grabbing the sheets. You gasped as you felt your core tighten again, “I-I’m cumming. San!” Your broken moans echoed through his house. He giggled at your broken state, fucking you through your climax.

He kept going just a little longer to push himself over the edge. He rammed his cock deeper, one more time, cumming inside of you. You didn’t even care. His cum filling you up was all you needed.

You noticed the silence, looking at San. He was watching as your mixed cum dripped out of your pussy. Your chest heaved up and down. He saw you looking at him, making his cheeks turn red. “Sorry.” He laughed and got off the bed to get a wet rag. He wiped you off as you legs felt like jelly.

“Are you alright?” He asked and you nodded with a smile. He smiled as well, “you seem like you needed it.” He grabbed extra clothes from his closet. He handed you some clothes.

“I did. Thank you, San.” He nodded his head and went downstairs. You got dressed, watching the door, wondering where he is. He suddenly came back in with some water. “Oh, thank you.”

“Of course. It’s the least I could do.” He sat beside you on his bed. “Do you wanna go out sometimes..maybe?” He asked you. You laughed at his question. He seemed really nervous to ask. “Yeah, of course.” You smiled, making his sigh a relief.

[successfulgoddess333]

THINK YOU THE SH💩T BITCH,YOU NOT EVEN DA FART💨

THIS IS YOU TO THE OLD MINDSET!

Don’t hate the 3D

It’s an assumption bitch!

That same assumption caused by your OWN THOUGHTS

Which take place in your 4D

The 3D is a result

Of the 4D and the 4D is your consciousness your mind

CHANGE YOUR ASSUMPTIONS

If you don’t want

👇🏾

4D-“ My life is so hard I’m such a failure!”

*Two years later*

“I know about manifesting so why hasn’t anything changed!!!!”

3D-“ight bet”

*Ten years later*

*YOU LIVING THE SAME FUCK ASS LIFE YOU WERE AFRAID TO LIVE BECAUSE YOUR ASS WOULD NOT PERSIST*

☝🏾

So if you don’t want what’s up there

CHANGE YOUR ASSUMPTIONS

When your assumptions about the 4D changes the 3D changes

DO YOU NOT SEE THE PATTERN

YOU ARE THE REASON

THAT EVERYTHING WORKS OUT

OR YOU COULD BE THE REASON THAT EVERYTHING DOESN’T

Some of you like I was

Are too afraid to get your desires because you’ve chosen the assumption of failure over the assumption of success

Reason being is because you’re comfortable you may not be comfortable to yourself you may want out but if your doing nothing to prove you want OUT then your comfortable you like living like this knowing about manifestation the void shifting etc but not taking action is like saying you love your partner but never being there for them or saying you love yourself but continuing to allow people to abuse and hurt your self confidence

You have found comfort in being uncomfortable because being uncomfortable is all you know and it’s the only thing that makes you comfortable

YIKES

I know I touched some people with this

Trust me I use to be JUST like YOU

So if you don’t want this

CHANGE YOUR ASSUMPTIONS

Imma keep screaming at you til you do!

4D-“ Yo I look good today and nobody’s gonna tell me I look anybody cuz I’m pretty”

3D- ight,bet

4D-“I’m rich life is easy the void is within me”

NOTICE HOW THE 3D CONTINUES TO RESPOND THE SAME WAY

Because it’s simply a RESULT

If you took a test

You’re gonna use your mind thats full of knowledge to get a good result right?

So USE YOUR MIND

Your 4D USE IT!!

It’s not hard babe

It’s you

You created the void

You over complicate something you made?

If you made a school exam

You’d make it easy right????

For you and for others

So you created the void already

You have the rules

YOU MADE IT EASY

So why assume it’s hard?

You’re contradicting yourself

If you could use your mind to daydream you could use it to manifest

Make it fun

Fuck methods

Do what you want

I’m not gonna sugar coat shit baby

DO WHAT YOU WANT

Methods are tools

Use them if you want

METHODS SUBLIMINALS ETC ARE WANTS NOT NEEDS YOUR DESIRES ARE NOT NEEDS THEY ARE YOURS BECAUSE YOU ALREADY HAVE THEM

You keep

Falling asleep when lucid dreaming or entering the void

WHO SAYS YOU GOTTA BE SLEEPY BABY???

YOU CAN BE WIDE AWAKE LIKE KATY PERRY

If you feel yourself getting sleepy or drowsy

THIS IS THE ABSOLUTE PERFECT MOMENT TO START AFFIRMING

Pls in this moment

You’re like “ahhhh I’m soooo sleepy how do I stay awake”

BITCH START AFFIRM

CUZ YOU DEADASS ABOUT TO GET IN!!!

By “getting in” means becoming aware of your pure consciousness state cuz you’re not

“Going anywhere”

You’re becoming aware that it exists

You know it does cuz you’re the reason it exists

But you’re becoming aware

Like you know outside there’s people

And stores

But when you go out there to experience you’re aware of it

But why would you be surprised you already knew it was people outside?

Your conscious mind is always active

So you could do rn if you really want to

It’s there

You being alive is powerful

Because you being here is the reason the void exists in you

You control it

Not the opposite

I LOVE YOU

Deadass

Much love Honey🩵💕

Close your eyes until you see specs like this

Hypnotize your mind block out all the noise and enter the void

[arvandus]

Obey Me: OG + NB Theory - Something's Fishy About Barbatos...

Look, I'm just gonna scream into the void and see if the void screams back cuz I'm hyperfixating and need to sleep. Sorry if this has been done before btw; I know OG has been out for forever and I’m finally catching up to everyone else… but humor me. 😅

I'm calling it now, OG lesson 80 and NB are CONNECTED.

(read more for length and OG spoilers)

This black crevasse thing isn't over, and NB is a continuation of that.

What makes me say that?? Because it's hinted at during the morning after interactions with Barbatos in Lesson 80-12.

To recap what happened at the end of OG, a dark crevasse was accidentally opened and Mammon, Levi, and Asmo were sucked in. Solomon called on Barbatos to save them and bring them back, and then seal the crevasse. Later, it's pointed out that while Solomon was strong enough to close the crevasse, he didn't have the ability to save the brothers. He used Barbatos and his time powers to save them.

Which MEANS that they were technically dead once they were sucked in, and Barbatos reversed their deaths using his time ability when he pulled them out.

Afterwards, Barbatos started having horrible headaches, and the brothers started to cease to exist - Levi turned invisible, no one could remember Mammon's name, and Asmo no longer had a reflection. By the end of it, when the group has opened a new dark crevasse and are trying to throw the magical item (the treasure chest) into the abyss to fix it, all three brothers are invisible, Levi can no longer touch solid objects, and Barbatos is barely clinging to consciousness.

Of course, the magic from the chest is released, it's sucked into the dark crevasse, the crevasse is sealed, etc. etc. The brothers are back to normal, and Barbatos's headaches are no more. It seems as if all's well that ends well...

OR IS IT?

We get to stay the night at the castle, and the next morning, Barbatos wakes us up. This is already suspicious, since it's pretty much implied that we went to bed with one of the brothers (Mammon, Beel, or Belphie). So the fact that Barbatos is waking us up for breakfast instead of whatever brother we selected to go to bed with...?? Weird. Normally, I'd expect Mammon to nag us awake, Belphie to still be in bed with us, and Beel to probably bring food to us in bed. But nope, we get Barbatos.

Sus. Very sus.

And for good reason. As it turns out, Barbatos is acting... different. There's so many ways I can dive into how exactly based on the different interaction options, but that will add too much length to this post, so I might make a separate one later.

Either way, he's definitely not quite acting himself. So much so, that we get a chance to point it out to him as a dialogue option regardless of what romantic/nonromantic option we chose prior:

I'll type it here for those who need it:

MC: Is it just me, or is something different about you? Barbatos: About me? No, I don't think... Barbatos: ...Wait. Actually, perhaps you're right.

Then he just proceeds to be like, "Okay, come meet us for breakfast! Toodles!"

Like?!?!

BRUH, YOU CAN'T JUST RESPOND LIKE THAT AND NOT EXPAND UPON IT???

It's not even the fact that he doesn't expand on it - that part is actually very normal for him. He's never one to tell more information than he wants. But I DID find it interesting that he straight up agrees/admits it to MC that something is different about him. AKA, we as the readers are SUPPOSED to notice this. It's important to the plot.

So, to recap, we know the following:

The brothers were sucked into the crevasse and essentially died as soon as they entered it

Barbatos saved them using his time abilities

Barbatos had SERIOUS consequences to doing so - really bad headaches, nearly incapacitated by the end of the finale, so much so that it was taking everything he had just to stay conscious with MC after they caught him. (This is MAJOR because he's always been so OP and invincible up to this point. Whatever this black crevasse power is, it's strong enough to bring him to his knees. Terrifying.)

Something is "different" about him afterwards, which he even acknowledges but doesn't expand on.

Whatever happened with that black crevasse impacted Barbatos. It did something to him. I'm not saying I know what that is, even though I have my theories (I'll save that for another post too). But I'm pretty damn sure this is going to tie into Nightbringer in some way. Barbatos has become a much more major character for the NB storyline, and there's a reason for it.

OG is the "fuck around" and NB is the "find out." Right now, we're finding out (...hopefully... if the writers can get their shit together).

(Also, as a side note, the idea of Nightbringer coming from the Dark Crevasse just tickles a part of my brain that I can't really describe.)

[ohtobeleah]

Bruises // Jake Seresin

Chapter Four: [Men & Their Many Masks]

Summary: You and Jake find yourselves alone in his cell for what feels like a week. Passing the time with mundane conversations. But when The Commander and his fellow officers finally come back? Things take a turn for the worst.

Series Warnings: Heavy themes of violence, sexual assault, torture. 18+ content. Minors DNI. Mature themes. Being held in captivity. Hostage style situation. Main character death! Whump, Angst. Conversations that discuss antisocial & antisemitism views.

Word Count: 5.3k

Author Note: THIS SERIES IS CONFRONTING, FICTIONAL, AND DEPICTS IMAGES OF TORTURE. DO NOT READ PAST THIS POINT IF YOU BELIEVE THAT THIS SERIES WILL BE DETRIMENTAL TO YOUR MENTAL STABILITY. CURATE YOUR OWN TIMELINE.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

“How’s the leg?” In life, only one thing is certain apart from death and taxes. No matter how hard you try, no matter how good your intentions are, you’re going to make mistakes. You’re going to hurt people and you’re going to get hurt. “Feeling any better than the last few days?” 

“Stings, but yeah I think it’s starting to heal.” But you never thought you’d be hurt quite like this. And if you ever wanted to recover, there was really only one thing you could say. “I forgive you though.” 

Jake smiled softly as he sat with you on the floor of the cell the two of you had been put back in for what felt like days at this point. He was just grateful he could hold you, that there were no bars to separate him from keeping you safe. His arm was slung around your shoulders as your head laid heavy against his shoulders. Just sitting, both waiting for the hell that was sure to come. 

“I’m glad to hear it.” Jake couldn’t stop thinking about it, your screams that was. The agonising cries that escaped from your mouth as he sewed your thigh up without any anaesthetic, without proper medical training or knowledge. “Might have to consider a career change when we get outta here.” You could hear in Jake's voice that he was tired, but he’d never admit it to you, just how tired he truly was. 

He’d stay up while you slept with your head in his lap or head on his shoulders. He’d stay awake and keep a watchful eye over you as the days mixed in with the nights. He wasn’t about to let anyone take you, he wouldn’t let them. He’d stay awake as you slept stroking your hair back out of your face all the while he’d eye of the passing insurgents that walked past in the hallway. 

You wouldn’t tell Jake, but sometimes you’d wake up from his constant mumbling. The mantra he’d say over and over and over again as you slept: 

“I’m not gonna let anything happen to you, I’ve got you.” 

“Hmm—“ You mumbled in response as you very tiredly lifted your head from the comfort it had found against Jake's broad shoulder. “Career change definitely seems in the cards.” You weren’t lying. “A desk job with zero dangers sounds pretty good right about now.” 

In the time that had passed you and Jake by in the hell hole you found yourself in, there had been times where you’d both fall into mundane conversation just to fill the void. Now must have been one of those times—because instead of sitting in the dimly lit cell with dirty floors and concrete walls in silence, Jake kept the conversation going just to hear your voice. 

“What made you wanna be an aviator in the first place?” You didn’t reply straight away as you moved your leg a little, needing to keep it from going numb. Jake's handy work hadn’t been all that handy. He’d left the pant of your flight suit torn and in tatters from where he’d cut the Normex to get to your thigh. 

“My dad.” You began. “He’s my hero, always has been always will be.” It was the first time Jake had seen you smile since before he was sewing your thigh back up. Jake wasn’t about to say what he was thinking either, if he did it would have your smile disappearing far too quickly. Your dad was the Commander of the Pacific Fleet, would he have signed off on this mission? 

Jake felt like you could light up the darkest of rooms with that smile of yours. So genuine and pure. Full of love and pride for whatever the topic was. “I remember my OC at basic found out who he was and I’ve had the callsign since.” It was stuff Jake wished he’d asked you about at the Hard Deck. Not here on the floor a million miles away from home. He wished he’d put his pride aside, he wished he told his ego to take a hike, because he didn’t know you. He didn’t want to get to know you, but now? You were here because of him and not once had you put the blame on him. “He was always my biggest inspiration, just wanted me to chase my dreams you know.” 

“Sounds like a good guy.” Jake replied as he looked at your thigh, god he’d done an awful job. He could see how raw the wound still was. How inflamed the skin around the stitching was. He felt awful—but it was still better than the alternative. 

“What about you? What made you wanna join the Navy?” Your voice broke Jake from the tailspin his mind had gone into as his eyes went from your thigh back to your eyes, not as shiny as they had been in Admiral Simpson's office, but still just as beautiful and just as captivating. 

“My old man wasn’t as supportive as what your dad seemed to be.” Jake explained as he watched you maneuver yourself so that your head was laying in his lap. Back laid up in the dirt. Looking up at him like he was your greatest protector. “He was an Army triage doctor.” You wouldn’t have ever picked that, especially after seeing Jakes stitch work. 

“Guess the apple fell a little far from the tree huh?” You teased up at him, a soft smile crept itself across your lips as Jake laughed gently with you. He nodded in agreement, he knew he was nothing like his old man. He never wanted to be like him either. If Jake Seresin could be anything in the world, he’d choose to not be his fathers son. 

“He wanted me to join the army, said every other branch of service spent their time sucking each other's dicks and crying about how much they missed their mama’s.” Jake chuckled to himself as he let his head rest against the concrete. “The day I told him I joined the Navy, he beat me near black and blue.” Jake saw the way you looked up at him, with sympathetic eyes and a worried frown. “I left Bradshaw hanging one day in water training, it was supposed to be a team exercise but I bailed.” Jake hadn’t told anyone this story before. He hadn’t really had to, Rooster always did it for him and the narrative was born. “I was scared that I wouldn’t be able to get him out so I just bailed.” 

“Hangman—“ You got it. He always left people hanging. It made so much sense. 

“It’s an excuse to not get personal.” Jake finally looked down at you, his hand had absentmindedly been running through the mess that was your hair. “Once I’m involved I can’t get out.” 

“Hangman wasn’t flying our F-18 when we went down was he?” You asked as the realisation really kicked in. “It was just you.” The Jake who cared about the people around him, the Jake who would go above and beyond to make sure Phoenix was treated equally. Jake who made sure to have glasses wipes in his locker for Bob if he ran out. Jake who was always there to be Fanboys wingman at the bar. Jake who always made sure Rooster had a way home when he got a little carried away. Even if it was his couch. Jake who never told Coyote it was him who set him and his girlfriend up that one night when he was too afraid to talk to her. He wrote the notes they both received, the penmanship should have given it away. Jake who carried an epipen in his car, locker and tucked away in his kitchen for Payback—he’d never seen a grown man so allergic to peanuts. 

That Jake was the guy who went after Rooster. The version of Jake Seresin who was sitting here right now playing with your hair. Not Hangman who’d stare at you from across the Hard Deck trying his best not to get involved. Fighting every instinct he ever had to want to get to know you. 

“I tell you what, if Bradshaw doesn’t cover my tab for at least a few months after this I’m gonna be pissed.” Jake laughed it off as you followed suit. “Hangman’s just an easy character to hide behind.” 

“He’s a safety net.” You understood where Jake was coming from. “But be honest with me will you? because I’d rather die knowing the truth than always wondering.” 

“What’s on your mind?” Jake was curious, where were you going with this?

“Is it Hangman who hates me or is it Jake? Because I think I can handle Hangman.” You were being as honest as you could be as you laid in Jake's lap looking up at him. Stubble had begun to cover his chin and cheeks and boy did it look good. The bruises not so much. “I think I could handle Hangman, but I don’t think I could handle it if the real you had a problem with me.” 

Jake frowned when your eyes never left his. You looked him dead in the eye, unafraid of whatever answer he might give you. His hand curled in your hair as he bent his knees to raise your head closer to his and before you even had a chance to register what was happening? 

His lips were softly planted against yours. Huh, that wasn’t what you were expecting. 

His lips were chapped but still so soft if that made any sense. You always thought Jake Seresin would be a good kisser, not that you’d ever thought about it for more than a fleeting moment. But still, the fact was proven to be true when he ran his tongue slowly across your lip to ask permission for more. You granted his request without so much of a second of hesitation.

There was a small fraction of desperation that showed its ugly head when your hand came up to grip at the back of Hangman's neck. With his knees bent up into his chest you were raised as close to him as you possibly could be. Drinking in the gentle touch of each other's fear. 

“I don’t think I could ever hate you, Hotshot.” Jake paused to catch his breath before things could get too heated too quickly. His forehead made its home against yours as you closed your eyes and tried to control your heart beat. “I was scared.” He finally explained. “I was scared I’d be the reason you'd end up dead and I just thought, that if I didn’t get to know you, losing my first WSO wouldn’t hurt as much as they say it does.” 

“But here we are—“ You reminded Jake of your current situation. “We’re gonna die here, and you spent weeks avoiding me like the plague only to end up rotting next to me in some hellscape prison anyway.” You couldn’t help the irony that escaped as you chuckled softly. 

“You’re not gonna die in here Y/n, I promise you.” With a gentle kiss to your forehead, Jake wrapped you up completely in his arms. His chin remained utop your head as he watched the door. He could hear people outside in the corridor—but they remained out of frame. A scare tactic probably. “Get some rest for me.” Jake whispered as he felt you cling to his chest. “I’m not gonna let anyone take you.” 

“Jake?” His warmth brought a comfort to you that you’d never not crave. 

“Yeah?” Your voice brought a solace Jake would never not need. 

“If you hadn’t gone after Rooster, it would probably be him in here right now.” You reminded him, it was something Jake didn’t like to think about. The what if of it all. All the what ifs there were. 

“Yeah, yeah it probably would be.” He replied softly, a deep bust lingered in his tone. “But you wouldn’t be if I hadn't.” 

Forgive and forget. That’s what they say. It’s good advice but it’s not very practical. When someone hurts us, we want to hurt them back. When someone wrongs us, we want to be right. Without forgiveness? old scores are never settled, old wounds never heal. And the most you can ever hope for, is that one day, you’ll be lucky enough to forget. 

“I forgive you Hangman.” You spoke into Jake's chest. He knew you already forgave him, Jake that was. But to hear you forgave his alter ego too meant a hell of a lot more than you could ever know. “I forgive him too.” 

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

“Up and at it Lieutenants!” At any given moment, the brain has fourteen billion neurons firing at the speed of four hundred and fifty miles per hour. “The Commander wants to see you, Hollywood.” One of the insurgents snickered as he unlocked the cell door, letting in far too much light as he did so.

“You’re not taking her.” You don’t have control over most of them. When you get the chills, goosebumps. When you get excited, adrenaline. The body naturally follows its impulses, which, you believe, is a part of what makes it so hard to control those impulses. “No way.” Jake had been up since you’d fallen asleep in his warm embrace, he held you closer and a little tighter as the guards stepped into the cell you were both being held in. It was instinct, impulse. “You’re not taking her away from me, wherever she goes, I go.” 

“Oh I can assure you, we’ll take her by force if necessary.” You were barely awake, but you heard it loud and clear. The buzz of a taser Jake had already had a run in with. “So I’m going to give you another chance to do what I fucking say, hand, the girl, over.” The buzz only got louder as the man dressed in all black stepped further into the cell. 

“I’ll go—“ But of course sometimes you have impulses you would rather not control, that you later wish you had. “I’ll go, but leave Jake alone.” You added as you sat up. Your leg throbbed as you tried to bend it at your knee. “Please?” You begged as Jake held your wrist to stop you from leaving his side. But when you looked at him with pleading eyes he knew you had to go. “There’s no need for the taser.” You turned back to the man who towered over you. “I’m coming.” 

Without a word, the man shut off the taser in his hand and pocketed it. He didn’t look all that impressed as he removed his mask, revealing a blonde haired blue eyed man with a scar that ran the expanse of his face. Cutting him essentially in half. It was ugly and red and as prominent as a scar could be. Keloid style. 

“The Commander wants to speak with you.” He informed you once again. “And he isn’t a patient man so move.” 

“Let me help you.” Jake insisted as he stood up before you could even begin to try. Your leg was killing you. “Here, take my hands.” He gestured for you to place your hands in his so he could pull you up with ease, such ease it shocked you. Jake was a hell of a lot stronger than he looked sometimes. And he was strong, you’d seen his bench press. 

“Thanks, I’m okay, I promise.” You lied through your teeth, a part of you wanted to cry in pure panic because you couldn’t feel your toes. But what good would that do? Jake helped you to your feet until you were steady before he pulled you in closer. 

“Remember you give them nothing alright?” Jake held your face in his hands as you nodded. “You don’t give them a reason to hurt you, you do what you have to do and don’t you dare worry about me.” 

“Okay.” You nodded. 

“I’m right here.” Jake reminded you before you were harshly being pulled away by the blonde haired blue eyes scar having man. He wasn’t as gentle as Jake was. “I’ll be right here!” 

By the time you were down the hall Jake’s mind had already begun to run through a rolodex of scenarios that you might find yourself in. He was, however, too exhausted to even stand on his own without a reason to fight. He took a knee, gently, feeling faint from the lake of sleep, food and water that the two of you had been provided. It was enough to keep you from starving but not nearly enough to replenish already exhausted muscles. 

“Unfortunately for you my good man we’re gonna need you up on your feet.” The insurgent left behind with Jake snickered as he held a bunch of rope in his hand. “I’ll give you the option to cooperate or again, we’ll force you.” Jake let out a laugh that was laced in uncertainty. 

“The day I cooperate with any of you evil sons of bitches is the day hell freezes over.” 

“You’re call Lieutenant.” The insurgent who had yet to show his face sighed as he took out a baton from his holster at the side of his pant leg, sighed. “You’re call.” He waisted no time. 

You could hear Jakes groans from down the hall. But even though you tried to turn around the guard who kept you walking forward kept you walking one foot in front of the other. 

“Don’t try anything stupid girly.” He hissed as he stopped in front of an elevator, just waiting for it to dig. You watched as the numbers dropped— seven, six, five, four, until they reached your floor. B. B for basement. “In, or so help me god.” 

You did as you were told. Jake had told you not to give them a reason. But from the groans you heard it seemed as though he’d already forgotten his own advice. 

“How’d you get your scar?” You asked as you watched the elevator climb, one, two, three, four. “Looks like it hurt?” You weren’t sure why you were even asking, but the silence was deafening. The answer the blonde haired blue eyed insurgent gave you made your bones turn cold as ice as he turned around and slammed you up against the wall of the elevator, the sudden burst of mania made you gasp as he trapped you in his arms up against the wall. He leaned in to whisper in your ear, but first? He left a gentle kiss against the junction of your neck. His explanation was only two words, but enough to send you into a dizzying tailspin. 

“The Commander.” 

The body is a slave to impulse. But the thing that makes us human is what we can control. After the storm, after the rush, after the heat of the moment has passed, you can cool off and clean up the messes you’ve made. 

All you can do to survive is to try to let go of what was. Freedom.

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

“Get cleaned up, the Commander would like to have dinner with you.” You were expecting something, you weren’t exactly sure what but it certainly wasn’t this. You were standing in the middle of a bathroom. “He’d like you to wear what’s been provided.” The man with the scar spoke just under his breath so his voice didn’t echo. “Take your time.” He told you as his eyes roamed the expanse of your body before he shut the door behind him, leaving you alone in the bathroom that smelled of vanilla and chamomile. Most likely from the candle burning on the vanity. 

Odd. This was all very odd. 

As confused as you were, you did what you were told. You stripped out of your disgusting flight suit that smelt gross enough to walk on its own and stepped into the shower. The second the warm water hit your body you cried. You cried until you couldn’t control the sobs. They echoed painfully off the walls as you washed away the grime that had built up on your skin and in your hair. Shampoo that smelled of apple and rhubarb reminded you of the pies Penny would make at the Hard Deck, which made you cry even more. You missed home. 

As much as you enjoyed the feeling of being clean, you felt guilty knowing that seven stories below, Jake remained in the dirt. Still in his flight suit, still covered in grime. It was enough to nearly drive you insane from guilt alone. 

You dried off and changed into the clothes provided. It had been an emerald evening dress with spaghetti straps at a length that went just above your ankles. It was odd to feel so beautiful in the situation you were in. You couldn’t pry your eyes away from the mirror, you looked ridiculous. With wet hair and swollen eyes. Bruises that weren’t even trying to hide littered your skin. 

So you reached for the hair dryer, and the bags of beauty products that were on the shelf behind you and got to work. Now wasn’t the time to feel sorry for yourself. Now was the time to put on a mask and front a brave exterior. You and Jake had to get out of this mess one way or another. 

By the time you were finished someone was knocking on the bathroom door. You had been told to take your time but perhaps you had over done it. 

“Yes?” You answered, standing tall and proud in the heels that had been provided. In the dress that was a little provocative. 

“The Commander will see you now, Lieutenant.” 

“Well, we wouldn’t want to keep The Commander waiting now would we?” You spat, shoving past the guard who was someone you’d never seen. When he tried to guide you, you pulled your arm out of his grasp. “I don’t need your help.” 

“Sorry ma’am, it just looked as if you were limping is all.” He apologised kindly, something you weren’t used to with the guards. He didn’t wear the same all black get up as the others. He wore a suit and tie, evening wear. A navy blue fitted attire with brown boots and tie to match. “My apologies, this way.” 

He was right for what it was worth, you were in fact, limping. But you weren’t about to put your pride aside for that. You didn’t want The Commander or whatever the fuck his actual name was to know you were in pain. 

It wasn’t long at all before you were being led into an near empty banquet room. Its clean cut aesthetic looked like a new world order. It made your stomach churn at the idea. The Commander sat at the end of a massive banquet style dining table made for twenty plus. He stood from his chair when you entered and his eyes never left yours as you hurried your way over to the chair set just for you. 

“You look beautiful—“

“It’s the blush, a brand called prisoner of war.” You huffed as you sat down, not needing any help from the man who’d escorted you in. He stood just behind you with his hands held in front. “What’s all this?” 

“I thought I might be able to explain our current situation a little better over a meal.” The Commander smiled as he gestured for one of the three Buttlers to pour you a glass of wine. “I was able to obtain your Naval records from the information Lieutenant Seresin provided.” It wasn’t all that interesting, you’d never really done anything of import. Sure you were a TopGun graduate but you weren’t first in your class. You didn’t stand out in a crowd. “I’d also like to take a minute to apologise for the wound you suffered—it’s never my first choice to resort to violence of such an extent—but I’m not—“ 

“A patient man.” You finished The Commander's sentence for him. “So I've heard.” Roasted chicken and vegetables, that’s what food was on your plate. You couldn’t bring yourself to eat even if you were slowly starving. It wouldn’t be fair to Jake. So you just moved your fork around and picked at the green beans. “If we could make this quick.” 

“Have you got somewhere to be Miss Y/l/n?” The Commander tilted his head curiously, trying to figure out why you were in such a hurry. 

“More like I’ve got someone to get back to.” You snapped back harshly. “I’d rather not waste my time listening to you babble on about defense budgets and the United Nations because let’s face it if the United States has their eye on you—you’ve probably done something to piss of someone in those bounds.” It wasn’t far from the truth of the matter at all, if anything you were right on the money. “And neither of those two topics really account for your probable anti-semetic ignorance.” You rolled your eyes as you wiped your face with the napkin beside your plate. “I’d like to go back to my cell now, even that shit hole’s better than being up here listening to some pathetic excuse for harbouring nuclear weapons.” You knew why your mission was to destroy that insurgent camp, it wasn’t rocket science. Nuclear weapons were a legitimate threat, and against Jake's wishes, you were catching some of his attitude. 

“I was just going to discuss the geopolitical complexities of the topic, which is in no way the same as going to an anti-semetic place.” The Commander corrected you as he slammed his fist down onto the table. “We believe, as a Rogue Nation, that the United Nations, NATO, all the major international bodies that preach international solidarity should be held accountable for their actions in instigating wars that never would have occurred.” It was a speech you weren’t all that interested in listening to. But with nowhere to run, you did just that. “Sovereign borders should be abolished, one World, one Nation, no countries with different societies and structures, no Nations with different cultures and religions, a universal language, currency and healthcare systems that aren’t flawed, access to food, water, education that isn't currently available.” It was a lot to take in, hell this may have been a bigger problem than your superiors had led you to believe. “Do you see the bigger picture here my dear?” 

“You’re certifiably insane—“ It was the only conclusion you could come to with the information you had laid out before you. “You’re talking about completely annihilating hundreds of thousands of years of cultural history and heritage across the world, you can’t justify that.” 

“It’s been done before in history—“ Was all The Commander replied before he smirked and took a sip of his wine. “The insurgent compound you and your friend were sent to destroy? One of two I believe you and your higher ups were aware of, was full of women and children, my wife included.” Your brain was working in overdrive trying to digest all this new information at the same time while keeping a straight face. Trying to look seemingly uninterested all the while taking in critical information that could be used at a later date was harder than it looked. 

“Tell me Lieutenant, what good would come of killing hundreds of women and children?” It was a trick question, or so you thought. “Your country has a very compelling history of instigating violence and provoking wars that never needed to occur.” The Commander wasn’t wrong, but it still didn’t make him right. “Countries like Australia and New Zealand follow, empires like Europe join the fight and then it’s Nation against Nation, ethnicity against ethnicity, culture against culture and religion against religion.” As much as you hated it there was a logic to The Commander's radical ideology. “There is no need for such violence—such loss of life, racism, discrimination, misogyny, homophobia; it could all be prevented if the entire world was one way. Had one ideology.” 

“Tell me Commander, how do you achieve such a goal?” You asked all the while trying not to throw up. 

“Complete nuclear destruction, pin countries against one another with tactical diplomacy that starts a domino effect—because something you Admirals have failed to realise Miss Y/l/n is that you can’t start a war against a Nation that doesn’t exist.” 

“You seem to have the resources to find out anything you want.” You kept a straight face even if you were thinking of lunging yourself down the time to ring your hands around The Commanders neck. “Why do you need Jake and I for information?” 

“I don't tend to believe everything I read on the internet my dear, it can be quite costly.” He smiled genuinely, it made you want to vomit, or perhaps that was the win. “I like to fact check, validate my findings. Captain Hewens told us that the United States Navy was planning a military strike against one of our compounds, so we were able to switch which site held what.” You couldn’t control your face as shock took over your expression. The Commander was willing to kill hundreds of people for his own political agenda—if you had succeeded in the mission? You could have caused an all out war. “With her help we were able to locate your mission file after an insider sold intelligence to the dark web for one point four million.” 

You were now physically unable to hide your shock as your shoulders slumped in defeat. This was much bigger, much worse than you could have ever anticipated. Holy shit, you were going to die here. Where ever here even was. 

“I guess you can always just put it down to the fact you and your friend are a hell of a lot less valuable than one point four million dollars.” The Commander chuckled to himself as he stood from his chair. His shoes clicked against the flooring as he made his way towards you, fixing his jacket as he did so with a proud chest. “You and your friend are nothing but pawns in a war your country has decided it’s in. But how can you be at war with a Nation that doesn’t exist? A nation with no borders or place or origin.” It made you shiver with dread and fear, you could feel the hairs on the back of your neck sticking up like on a cat's spine. “We are the Rogue Nation miss Y/l/n, we are one world and one people, the sooner you realise who’s side you’re really fighting on the sooner your time here gets a hell of a lot easier.” 

Your heart was racing a hundred miles an hour as The Commander reached out to squish your cheeks together between his fingers and his thumb. He turned your face towards where he stood beside you and growled. 

“So before you go back to your cell, just remember, when I ask you or your friend for information? I expect to get it from either of you, the easy way or the goddamn hard way.” 

“I’m not telling you anything you mentality deranged fuck.” You pulled your head from his grasp as you reached for the knife sitting beside your plate. Your food still sat uneaten, but the serrated knife would do just fine. You plunged it into The Commanders hand up until the hilt before you got up out of your chair in a panicked hurry. “You’re delusional!” It was then the blonde haired blue eyed man with the angry scar came bursting through the door. As of right on cue. 

“Nathan—“ The Commander made not a single cry, nor a groan or anything as he pulled the knife from the palm of his hand and placed it back where you had originally picked it up from. Covered in a deep crimson. “Please escort the Lieutenant back to her cellmate. I’m sure he’s ready to talk, if not? You know what to do.” 

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

Tags 🏷️ @americaarse @blindedbythelightt @tayl0rhuynh @athenabarnes @imaginecrushes @whyareallnamesgone @mjmaximoffbarnes @amiets2 @mads-weasley @gabbyella @ephemeralninon @xoxabs88xox @pedrohoe04 @starkleila @je-suis-prest-rachel @clancycucumber230 @maisie-rebloging-blog @callsign-barbell @obiwankenobis-lap @some-lovely-day @paperbag333 @callsign-magnolia @jhiddles03 @hardballoonlove @shanimallina87 @seitmai i @abaker74 @missemrose @starset21 @kmc1989 @phoenix1388 @emma8895eb @tsofo26 @itsmytimetoodream

[fairyhaos]

ᥫ᭡ // dude, i can see (through) you

vernon x gn!reader fluff, crack(?), supernatural au, non-idol au, ghosts, ft. ghost!jeonghan

3.5k+ words

warnings for: mentions of insomnia, pills

summary: when you move into your new house that seems almost too good to be true, you find yourself (not quite) face-to-face with the prettiest boy you've ever seen.

“Hey, hey, Hansol, did you hear that the family are finally leaving the house?”

“What? Already? Hyung, come on, why do you keep doing this?”

“It’s fun! I bet it was the floating pots and pans that did it. You know how much effort I put in to get those to lift up.”

“I liked these people. They had a dog!”

“Yeah, and the dog could see us. That’s a no-no.”

“Still, hyung, don’t you think we should just… try to live peacefully?”

“Ha! That’s funny. Anyways, I bet I can make the next tenant move out in just a month.”

“No. You shouldn’t do that.”

“So you don’t think I can?”

“I don’t think you should—”

“Oh, it’s on, Hansol! I'm gonna prove it to you!”

“Please don’t.”

───────────── 👻

There is something seriously, seriously wrong with your new house.

It’s nothing obviously wrong, however: on paper, it’s a perfect place. Situated in a nice town, not in an hugely overpopulated area, with various convenience stores and a park close by. Even the house is perfect: not too big, not too small, and, above all, startlingly cheap.

Everything about it is perfect. But from the first day that you move in, you realise that things are a bit… strange.

“Where the hell has my laptop gone?”

You thread your hand through your hair, exasperated. In the middle of your desk, where your laptop ought to be, there was an empty space.

You’ve always been a forgetful person, accidentally leaving your shoes in the wrong place or leaving doors open or forgetting where you put your keys, but this is getting ridiculous. Losing an entire laptop? That’s odd, even for you.

Frustrated, you open your various boxes that still contain half of your worldly possessions, wondering if you’d gone mad and somehow put it away in them instead.

When it becomes clear that your laptop has not been accidentally packed away, you straighten up, shaking your head and resigning yourself to the fact that your laptop is simply lost to the void that is your new house. Hopefully, you manage to find it again before you have to go to work in a couple of weeks.

───────────── 👻

“So, what’s it like, living by yourself?”

You huff, adjusting the phone against your ear as you crawl around on the floor, bending down to look under the sofa. “Really, really weird.”

Your friend laughs over the phone. “Weird? How?”

“Well, for starters,” you say, fishing out yet another fork that had somehow made it under your upholstery, “I think I’m being haunted.”

There’s a pause. “What?”

You don’t believe in the supernatural, or the paranormal, or anything mythical or to do with ghosts and vampires and the otherworldly. They’re all just tales, made up by idiotic people and spun into a capitalist plot by the media, creating franchise after franchise surrounding possessed dolls and muscled Hollywood men playing traumatised werewolves. It’s irritating, and most of all, it’s all fake.

Science and supernatural cannot coexist, after all.

But now, you’re beginning to question whether that’s really the case.

“—turned all my clocks forward by four hours. Four! I thought I was going insane,” you say, standing up and returning to your kitchen with the fork in your hands, after finding your cutlery drawer empty an hour earlier, despite the fact that you’d put away all your cutlery only yesterday.

You put the fork away, and then open up a cupboard to grab a glass, only to flinch and scream at what you see.

“Oh my god, Y/N? Y/N, are you okay?”

“This is ridiculous,” you breathe, staring up at your cupboard.

Every single row is squashed full of your soft toys.

“Hey, Y/N, are you listening to me? Hello? Can you hear me?”

You blink up in extreme despair at the cupboard before shutting the door. You don’t have the energy to deal with it right now. “Yeah, I’m here,” you say, holding the phone more securely against your ear. “Listen, I might have to call you back. I still haven’t fully unpacked yet.”

“Are you okay? You screamed and then suddenly went silent.”

Heaving a sigh, you close your eyes for a moment and then open them again. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. I’ll call you later, alright?”

You hang up, and walk out of the kitchen and into the hallway, before pausing in your tracks, staring wide-eyed at the front door.

The front door that was wide open.

You blink.

Slowly, ever so slowly, the door begins to swing shut, before suddenly closing with a sudden bang.

You stand there for a moment longer, before shaking your head and walking up the stairs.

Whichever ghost was haunting you, they sure were weird.

───────────── 👻

“Hey, Hansol, why is this tenant not leaving?”

“I told you. You shouldn’t do this.”

“Hmm, nah. It’s okay. It’s only been a week. I can do this.”

“Should you, though?”

───────────── 👻

Hansol is, unfortunately, so dead.

Very much in the literal sense as well, because he's a ghost. Don't ask him about the logistics of that, or how it came to be, because he doesn't know. All he knows is that one day he died and the next, he opened his eyes and no one could see him. 

But he's also so dead in the figurative sense, too. Because he and his Jeonghan hyung (who was technically a year or so younger than him when he died but still insists on being called ‘hyung’ because he died around a century earlier than him, and “you ought to respect people’s deathdays, Hansol”) have been inhabiting this house for several years, now, but he’s never had a desire to be human again in all that time.

That is, until he meets you.

You’re the latest owner of this house, and you’re… well, you're interesting.

Never before has he seen someone so tolerant of Jeonghan’s schemes. In his attempt to win at a bet that he’d created by himself, Jeonghan was pulling out all the big guns on you: starting off by being a nuisance, then an irritant, then infuriating before escalating into downright chaotic, in a climax where he made all the doors open and slam repeatedly in the middle of the night.

It’s enough to make anyone want to move out. Hansol half-expected you to leave within the first five days, but instead, you clench your jaw and plaster a smile on your face and keep on going.

He thinks it’s a little curious that you’re putting on a smile, even though there’s no one to see it. Like you’re constantly always alert of people watching you, and feeling the need to put on a mask. It makes him want to be human, just for a second, to put a hand on your shoulder and ask if you’re really okay.

During the second week, however, he realises that you really aren’t okay.

“The tenant still hasn’t gone to sleep,” Jeonghan sulks, floating through your bedroom door to sit (well, hover) beside Hansol on the floor just outside. 

“You can just say Y/N,” Hansol reminds him. “What do you mean, though? All humans are meant to be asleep by now.”

“Yeah, well, ours isn’t,” Jeonghan huffs. He crosses his arms petulantly, and his translucent ghost self flickers and wobbles at the dramatic movement. “Why not?”

Hansol shrugs. “How am I meant to know?”

Before Jeonghan can say something snarky in reply, the door to your bedroom door swings open, and the two ghosts flinch and freeze up, momentarily forgetting that they're ghosts. 

They watch as you slowly trudge down the stairs, muttering annoyedly to yourself. You had a dressing gown drawn over you, and you hug it against yourself while you shuffle through your house, before walking into the kitchen.

Hansol looks at Jeonghan, and the other just shrugs, and they both decide to follow you and see what you’re up to.

Hansol peeks his head through the wall just as you pop a few pills into your mouth.

“What’s going on?” Jeonghan asks, pushing Hansol through the wall so that he’s standing in the kitchen properly. “Are those drugs?”

“No, I don’t think so,” Hansol says, and then floats closer so he can see the writing in the bottle you’re holding. It doesn’t help, though, because the writing is all faded, like this is a bottle you’ve had for a while. “Medicine? But what for?”

Jeonghan folds his arms, sitting on the table. “Great. Our new tenant is dying.”

“Does this mean you’ll stop being mean now?” Hansol asks, coming to sit next to Jeonghan.

“I’m not mean.”

“Yes you are.”

“No I’m not! When have I ever been mean, hm? Tell me, Hansol!”

Suddenly, there’s a clatter, and a mess of white pills spread out across the floor, under the table and throughout the entire kitchen. Both of the ghosts, pause, and when Hansol looks up, his eyes widen.

You’re looking directly at him.

No one says anything, and for a long, long moment, you continue to stare directly at Hansol, and he swallows uneasily, glancing over at Jeonghan. The other ghost is just sitting there, too, but he’s looking at you with interest, eyes flicking between you and Hansol.

“It’s… it’s not me, right?” Hansol says hesitantly. “Surely our tenant isn’t seeing me.”

“Try moving,” Jeonghan says, and directs his gaze back to you. There’s not a trace of wariness in his eyes, and Hansol feels more confused than ever. Jeonghan was the one who said that the last family ought to be kicked out because their dog could see them.

Nevertheless, arguing with Jeonghan wastes fifteen years of Hansol’s (undead) lifetime every time, so he does as he’s told, hopping off from the table and almost falls on his face when your eyes track his movements as he does so.

“Holy shit,” you whisper. Hansol’s beginning to feel a bit panicky now. “Dude, I can see through you.”

And then your eyes glaze over and you crumple into a heap on the floor.

───────────── 👻

“Y/N can see us,” Hansol says, pacing frantically. “Hyung, we’re doomed! We’re—we’re gonna get exorcised and go to Hell and have to meet the Devil!”

Jeonghan just hums, looking down at your sleeping form. “I don’t think so.”

After you had fainted, the two ghosts had (very painstakingly) carried you back up the stairs and back into bed. It takes a huge amount of effort for ghosts to be able to make themselves felt in the living plane, and Hansol had been gasping from the effort for a solid hour afterwards.

Now, though, the exhaustion has worn off, and he’s currently making Jeonghan mildly dizzy with all his pacing.

“Hyung.” Hansol whirls around again to face Jeonghan, making the elder ghost raise his eyebrows. “You know what this means, right? This tenant is unwell. You’re not allowed to play your tricks anymore.”

That makes Jeonghan pause. He bites his thumb, then, thinking, before nodding his head. “Fine. I don’t like tormenting the sick, anyways. It hurts to think about.”

Hansol sighs at that, mouth twisting in sympathy. He pats Jeonghan’s shoulder. “Don’t think about it. You’ve been dead for ages, hyung. I’m surprised your memory is still intact.”

Jeonghan scowls, pinching Hansol’s side, making the younger ghost yelp and then laugh. “Hey! We’re basically the same age.”

“Give or take around a hundred years.”

“Yeah, barely anything!”

The two ghosts continue bickering, their voices absorbed into the nothingness that was the plane of the dead. 

In your bed, you turn your head towards the direction of warped voices, squinting at the faint outlines that you can see near the window.

───────────── 👻

“—really handsome dude, oh my god,” you’re saying while you sort through your papers. Your laptop still hasn’t turned up. “Is there any side effect of taking sleeping pills again after a long time of not using them that, like, causes hallucinations of hot guys?”

Over the phone, your friend laughs. “I guess living by yourself really is making you go insane, huh?”

“I’m not insane,” you insist, chuckling. “It sounds insane, but I swear, he was so…” You hide your face behind your hand, despite the fact that no one can see you. 

“That gorgeous, huh?” comes the response from the other end of the line, and you get the distinct feeling that your friend doesn’t really believe you. You take your hand away from your face, trying to rub away the blush on your cheeks.

“Yeah, actually, he was! Anyway, I gotta go. I still haven’t found my laptop, and doing all my work by hand isn’t going well.”

“Go to the library and use a computer there.”

You pause. “Oh. Good idea. I’ll do that tomorrow. Goodnight, I gotta go now.”

There’s a laugh on the other end. “Okay. Goodnight, Y/N.”

The two ghosts sit on your bed, watching you as you hang up the phone and go back to your work.

“So,” Jeonghan says, and his tone is light and teasing, “Y/N thinks you’re pretty gorgeous, huh? I guess you really were seen, after all.” He nods his head in your direction. “Our new tenant is definitely really interesting.”

Silence falls again, and Hansol watches you agonise over your sheets, one hand permanently buried in your hair.

“Hyung,” he says after a moment, “You should give Y/N the laptop back.”

───────────── 👻

“Stupid goddamn insomnia,” you mutter to yourself, trudging down the stairs yet again. “Why can’t I go to sleep?”

You’ve been in your new house for just over two weeks, now, and things are… normal. After the initial weird things happening during the first several days, everything seems to have settled down, almost like the house had gotten used to its new owner. It makes you laugh, every time you think of it in that way, but there’s no other way to explain how the sudden door slammings have stopped, and all your things seem to be exactly where you left them.

And even the other day, you’d found your laptop again.

Everything was going well.

A flash of big, translucent brown eyes flash across your vision, and you shake your head, trying to dispel the memory.

You despise taking your pills, hate them for how drowsy they make you throughout the rest of the day, but just over a week into moving in, you’d caved and succumbed to their awful numbness. Your insomnia had flared up, almost, as if panicked by the new environment, leaving you unable to sleep for several days.

Strangely, though, after you’d had that… vision, you’d been able to sleep easier for a while. 

Large, surprised eyes flood your memory again, and you frown, scrunching your eyes and attempting to get rid of it.

That boy hadn’t appeared in your vision again after that night, and you’ve reluctantly convinced yourself that it had just been a side effect of the sleeping pills and your own lack of sleep. Hallucinations weren’t uncommon with strong sleeping pills, after all.

You finish downing your pills, drinking the entire mug of water for good measure, before wiping your mouth and setting the mug down on the counter. 

Groggily, you rub your eyes and attempt to head out of the kitchen, stumbling a little as you go. Just because you can’t sleep doesn’t mean you aren’t tired, after all. It’s just your stupid body not allowing you to fall asleep.

Abruptly, your foot catches against your other ankle, and you slam into the doorframe with a cry of pain. Eyes still bleary, you move jerkily only to feel yourself keeling over backwards, falling faster and faster towards the floor, and then—

A pair of arms catch you, and you fall back against a sturdy chest that stumbles, just slightly, under your weight, before gaining control and slowly lowering you to the floor, still in their embrace, head in their lap.

Your head is spinning, vision blurry, but as you look up, the sight that stares back at you is as clear as day.

Big, brown, translucent eyes.

Your own eyes widen in shock, and the pair of eyes staring into yours widen too.

“Oh my god,” you say. “How did you get into my house?”

The boy above you opens and closes his mouth wordlessly. “Um… I live here?”

“Like hell you do,” you return. Before you can say anything else, however, the feeling of his arms disappears and you drop the last few inches onto the floor, back making contact with the hard wood. You yelp in pain, and he cringes apologetically.

“Sorry! Sorry. Uh, it’s hard to make myself tangible for long. I didn’t meant to do that. Sorry.”

You sit up, rubbing your back. “Wait, what do you mean? Are you not…”

Another boy steps into your vision. No—he floats, feet constantly millimeters from the ground. He bends down over the boy sitting on the floor next to you, looking down at you with interest. “I’m surprised that you’ve managed to make yourself visible to our tenant for so long, Hansol.”

You blink, lost. “Hey, I can see you too, you know.”

The new boy looks bewildered at that. “You can?” Then his eyes widen. “And you can hear me?”

“You’re talking, aren’t you?” You narrow your eyes. “Is this some prank? Halloween is right around the corner, after all. Are you playing with me?”

“No, no!” The boy who caught you shakes his head frantically. “No, we’d never. Well, Jeonghan hyung might, but I wouldn’t.” He pauses, and then smiles hesitantly, standing up. “Um… we’re ghosts?”

You don’t say anything for a long moment. And then you tap your chin thoughtfully. “Prove it.”

“Please don't pani—what?”

“Prove it,” you say, and then shrug. “I gotta make sure that you’re really ghosts, you know? How do I know that you’re what you say you are?”

The other ghost, Jeonghan, raises an eyebrow. “Why would we lie to you?”

“I dunno. You’re bored?”

Jeonghan thinks about it for a moment, before nodding. “Fair point.” And then, abruptly, he walks up to you, and you expect him to stop right before you, but to your surprise, he carries on going and walks right through you instead.

“Jesus!” you shiver, a horrible coldness running down your spine. “Don’t do that!”

Jeonghan just beams. “Do you believe us now?”

You look back at Hansol, thinking. If you tilt your head just slightly, he flickers out of focus, like a mirage. But when you look at him in just the right angle, he looks as present as any human, only a little less so. Like he’s almost here, but not quite.

After a second, you nod your head. “I suppose you really are ghosts,” you say, and there’s just enough awe in your voice to make Hansol’s eyes widen in confusion.

“You’re… not going to run away?”

“Are you kidding? This is so cool,” you say, clasping your hands together. You grin. “It was getting lonely here anyway. And besides, you’re also really pretty.” Your eyes widen at your own words, and you backtrack. “Uh, pretty cool. That’s what I meant. Ghosts are cool, you know?”

Jeonghan laughs. “Hansol already knows that you think he’s gorgeous. We heard you.”

Instantly, a flush surges up into your cheeks, and Hansol rubs at his nose, embarrassed, before punching Jeonghan in the shoulder. He doesn’t deny it, though, which makes you feel kind of really flustered, but there’s a shy smile on his face as he looks at you.

“I think you’re also really pretty, too,” he says, and goddamnit, a ghost shouldn’t have the power to make you blush like this.

Jeonghan is about to say something, but then gets interrupted when, abruptly, a yawn wracks your frame and you cover your mouth, face scrunching up.

“Well, I think I need to head to bed,” you say, rubbing at your eyes. “Think I’m finally getting tired.”

That makes Hansol almost wilt in disappointment, and it’s such a cute sight that you almost reach over to ruffle his hair. Which is weird. Because he’s a ghost, and also because you hardly know him, but there’s something just so endearing about Hansol that makes you feel like you want to know him forever and ever.

Slowly, you make your way back upstairs, the ghosts trailing after you.

“I’m going to pester you both with questions tomorrow,” you inform them as you get into bed. “Like, about how I’m able to see ghosts and why I can hear you and how long you’ve both been here. I really will.”

Jeonghan laughs. “We look forward to it. It’s been a while since we’ve had someone other than each other to talk to. I think we’ll both like your company.” He nudges Hansol in the side, smile turning devious. “Hansol even more so than me.”

Hansol groans, covering his face, and you just smile, too drowsy to think of what that means at the moment.

“Leave my room before I go to sleep,” you say, as your eyelids close. “I heard you talking in my room a few nights ago, you know. You should know it’s not good to spy on people in their sleep.”

Jeonghan might reply with something, but you’re not entirely sure. Sleep is already pulling you under, pulling you far away from the state of being awake.

The last thing you recall is a cool pressure against your forehead, and a warm voice whispering your name.

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

fics tags: @jeonginssa @weird-bookworm @minhui896 @bunnyiix @slytherinshua @haowrld @belladaises @moonlitskiiies @mirxzii @zozojella @kawennote09 @thedensworld @a-wandering-stay @abibliolife @doublasting @wonranghaeee @icyminghao @sweet-like-caramel @your-yxnnie @evasaysstuff @odxrilove @kyeomyun @crackedpumpkin @jeonride @kellesvt @butiluvu @sakufilms @eightlightstar @aaniag @amxlia-stars

[amethystfairy1]

Amethyst I love you and I hate you SOOOOOO MUCH RIGHT NOW

because in one hand OMG THEY ACTUALLY DID IT THEY SAID I LOVE YOU AND HAD SEX NO WAY

but on the other hand GOOD LORD THEIR RELATIONSHIP IS GOING IN CONCERNING DIRECTIONS

Because even in this chapter the fact that Tango was already just so upset at the thought of Zed leaving despite the fact they’ve only been together for like a week and I know it’s normal and even healthy in some ways to be possessive (trust me I’m kinda like that with my own friends) but there is just this certain irk I get every time I read some of the lines in this fic

“I don’t ever wanna let you go!” Zed declared with all the oblivious brashness he always managed. Tango felt his cheeks warming even hotter, and while he hadn’t grown anywhere close to hot enough to burn, his flares were crackling even brighter, snapping and sparking from his true feelings on the scenario.

Which were utter contentment, of course.

this was what he’d been burning for all his life

But I couldn’t care less. Because he’s touching me.

Zed was rapidly coming to the conclusion that as long as Tango was looking at him like this, he’d be whatever he liked.

Zed just wanted Tango to be happy. He was already so happy just feeling this sense of fulfillment again after so long shredded apart. So it was fine. He'd be fine.

Tango wasn’t nearly as obsessive with knowledge as his boyfriend, but if that knowledge was about his boyfriend, all of a sudden, he felt insatiable.

It was fine.

Taken.

Tiny little piece. Just a sliver, just a fraction, just something enough for Tango to cling to during his every sleepless night and know that he might finally be getting something right

he mentally beat himself up over that, he let go of Zed’s hand and spun.

How could he possibly be mad?

Some lightly scalded fingertips, after all, had landed him in this situation.

He let Tango do as he pleased.

He’d be happy with anything if Tango just kept touching him.

He chased that contact like he was starving for it because, really?

He was. 

even if that was all just novelty. And if was novelty? Then Zed would take that. He’d take anything so long as he had Tango.

wherever they ended up, heaven or hell, it didn’t matter.

I know like at least half of these weren’t written as foreshadowing and were just supposed to be cute romantic lines but fuck it when you put codependency in the tags I’m gonna overanalyse lines like these. Honestly I had a sneaking suspicion that their relationship might be a bit more obsessive than normal since Sightline Sunrise when we first had Zed describing how Tango was sealing the cracks and I was like “Hey maybe this is a bit much” but I just ignored it because I thought I was just looking too deep into things BUT NOW!!!

I can’t just ignore the constant dread I feel as I reread some of these lines but you do SUCH a good job and sneaking them into the fic that I feel like I’m stretching them most of the time and I just like “I’m reading too into this? Am I? I might be going crazy.” But you added the codependency tag????? But like no-one else is actively questioning it?????? I feel like fucking Iskall screaming into a void of nothingness with an unhinged conspiracy theory that no-one believes? I think I’m going crazy.

Screw you Amethyst and introducing me to my first ever Zedango fic and making do insane over them SCREW YOU!!!!!

Ahhhh…

Only cute lines?

You underestimate me my friend 🙃

I never promised that all these relationships would only be healthy happy fun time, I mean, you’re spot on with all of those lines you pulled. Iskall would be proud! 😆 I don’t wanna say too much and spoil where we’re headed with this, so let me just say that your concerns are…well-placed. But through it all at the heart of their big tangle of issues these two idiots DO love and care about each other first and foremost. They’ve just got…a tiny little extra sprinkle of obsessiveness in there that’s on brand for them, and that toooooooootally won’t come back to bite them in the ass later 😉

I’m so glad you’re insane about my Zedango! Thank you for this lovely ramble I can’t tell you how much I love it when people analyze my stories for stuff like this! 💖💖💖

[ronniaugust]

How To Write Good Dialogue (Part 1)

I'm gonna start this by saying I'm not trying to sound like a know-it-all. I am just tired of posts like these being absolutely fucking useless. I am aware this is basically me screaming into a void and I’m more than okay with that.

This guide is meant for intermediate screenwriters, but beginners are also absolutely welcome. :)

(about me)

-♠︎-♠︎-♠︎-♠︎-

I've noticed a rise in film students who want to make films that have no dialogue. Probably after your professor showed you Doodlebug, right? Fuck that.

I'll make another post about writing a short film, but all you need to know is: Don't waste the audience’s time. Most of these no-dialogue shorts have very little substance and take way too long to tell the shortest possible story. Not a good idea.

Useless Dialogue

Plain and simple, don't write useless dialogue. Useless dialogue is dialogue that just doesn't fucking matter. Dialogue matters by having ✨subtext.✨

What is subtext? Subtext is the meaning behind the action. That's it.

If I tell you that I love you and I got big doe eyes while I say it, it means I love you. If I tell you I love you through a clenched jaw without looking at you, I don't necessarily love you right now.

Simple, right? Great.

Now think about the subtext behind every line. Does your character mean what they're saying? Are they doing it to get what they want? What is going through their mind as they say it? As long as you know your character, you’ll have these answers ready to go. If you don’t, you’ll figure it out eventually. Just keep writing.

When you write your character walking into a Starbucks and saying, "One venti iced coffee," does that do something? Why do I need to see someone's boring Starbucks order? Do I need to know that your character's boring? Why are you writing a boring character? [Of course, in the rare situation where this is some revealing clue to the massive crime investigation, then it makes sense.]

Useless dialogue is any dialogue that has no meaning or purpose in your script. Delete and move on. You don't need to write entire conversations or scenes that bore us, just write what we care about.

I took a class once where my professor called a version of this "trimming the fat." Get us into your scene and out of your scene in as little time as it takes to have it achieve its full purpose in the script.

[P.S. You don’t “inject” subtext into your lines. Idk who started that vernacular in subtext teachings but I hate it.]

Show vs. Tell

I remember a glorious fight I got into with a Redditor last year about show vs. tell… TL;DR: Dialogue is “show” if you write it with intention and subtext. If someone says that dialogue is inherently “tell,” they’re wrong and can go fuck themselves.

Dialogue that is “tell” is expositional dialogue. But, hot take: Exposition isn't just in dialogue. It’s also those annoying clichés that make you roll your eyes in the theater (which we just call clichés and not exposition). I’m sure every professor I’ve had will disagree with this and then get me into a long conversation about it, but let’s ignore that for right now.

Have you ever seen a movie where a character rubs an old, worn-out photo of a young girl while looking depressed? That's exposition. That character has a dead daughter. No shit.

Clichés are incredibly annoying. We all know that. Assume that any cliché you see - in this context - is exposition and try your best not to write it. (Tropes are different and sometimes necessary, so I’m not talking about that.)

Point blank: When you have subtext in your lines, they are "show,” not “tell.”

Before moving on, I'll bring up that while technically the dead daughter photo is subtextual, it is as close to the character saying “My daughter is dead,” as you can get. Don't treat the audience like we're fucking stupid.

The First 15

If you don’t know what the Inciting Incident is, please look up “3 Act Structure” before reading this.

The first 15 pages of your script is the part that comes before the Inciting Incident. This is the part you want to get right because, although people probably won’t leave the theater, they will absolutely find something else on the streaming service they’re using. The people making said movie will also just toss your script in the trash before it’s even produced, so it's best to get it right.

Dialogue in the first 15 generally follows the same rules, but carries a heftier additional rule. All dialogue in the first 15 minutes must, must, must tell us something about your character.

Remember when I talked about that boring Starbucks order? Why is your character boring? Don’t write that. Don’t write nice characters. Or pleasant characters. Or friendly characters. No one cares.

You want empathy. This does not mean “relatable.” It means “empathetic.” There is a difference.

I personally relate to Vi in Arcane, but I empathize with Theo in Children of Men. Both are excellent, but one personally resonates a bit more with me. You cannot write a character that deeply resonates with every single person, it is impossible.

With each line of dialogue, you must be saying something about your character that generates the empathy. Instead of telling you how to do this, I’ll direct you to a movie that will do better than an explanation: Casablanca.

Watch how Rick interacts with the world. What kind of man is Rick? Watch what he does, what he says, and how he treats people and himself. Watch that empty glass on the table. Watch his contradictions. Everything. Those things matter and it’s what makes you want to watch Rick for the entire duration of Casablanca.

“Realism”

This is maybe more directorial, but make your characters human enough, not too human.

Too human is when you’ve tried your best to capture all those little life-like speech patterns. You know, the ones that no one fucking cares about.

If your character coughs, they’re sick. If they clear they’re throat, they’re uncomfortable. If a bruise isn’t going away, they’re going to die. Simple.

Every moment on screen matters. Everything the audience sees is meant to lead them to a conclusion. Not the conclusion, just a conclusion.

The realism you want is in the choices your character makes, not how many times they say “Uh,” in a sentence.

Conclusion

Dialogue matters and should not be treated lightly or without care. Once you have this all engrained in your mind, dialogue should become effortless.

If you want an excellent way to think about this, Robert McKee's Story has an excellent chapter that helped clarify this all for me. Here's an excerpt and the context.

Warning, spoilers for Chinatown.

"If I were Gittes at this moment, what would I do?"

Letting your imagination roam, the answer comes:

"Rehearse. I always rehearse in my head before taking on life's big confrontations."

Now work deeper into Gittes's emotions and psyche:

Hands white-knuckled on the steering wheel, thoughts racing: "She killed him, then used me. She lied to me, came on to me. Man, I fell for her. My guts are in a knot, but I'll be cool. I'll stroll to the door, step in and accuse her. She lies. I send for the cops. She plays innocent, a few tears. But I stay ice cold, show her Mulwray's glasses, then lay out how she did it, step by step, as if I was there. She con-fesses. I turn her over to Escobar; I'm off the hook."

EXT. BUNGALOW-SANTA MONICA

Gittes' car speeds into the driveway.

You continue working from inside Gittes' pov, thinking:

"I'll be cool, I'll be cool ..." Suddenly, with the sight of her house, an image of Evelyn flashes in your imagination. A rush of anger. A gap cracks open between your cool resolve and your fury.

The Buick SCREECHES to a halt. Gittes jumps out.

"To hell with her!"

Gittes SLAMS the car door and bolts up the steps.

Story by Robert McKee, pg 156

The context of this page is McKee's way of explaining how to write characters. I found it very helpful.

-♠︎-♠︎-♠︎-♠︎-

Thanks for reading! I probably forgot something, so I made this a “part 1.”

I hope this helps someone since I’m really tired of finding short films on YouTube that are all fucking silent. The few who have done it well have been copied to death, so please write some dialogue. I promise you it’s so much better if you do.

Asks are open! :)

[walli3darl1ng]

Hello!! I really want to know how the welcome home crew would react to a enderman like reader

!But minus attacking when looked at!

Like I just imagine reader was just teleporting randomly but accidentally got lost while teleporting and somehow found the neighborhood and at the exact same time Frank and Julie were having a picnic then all the sudden they get jump scared by the reader so they make them the new neighbor.

I just want the reactions of the crew to a enderman like reader lol!

So I’m not an expert in Minecraft, I’ve watched other gamers and my brother play so I had to do research on this as well as look up human Endermans just to get a concept going.

If I’m gonna be honest with you I think this sucks🫠 but I did try my best^^

Julie and Frank were having their weekly picnic up a hit in the forest, where they would talk about their day, the week, any gossip they have. All in good spirits, of course.

“Did you hear home locking Wally up this morning?” Julie takes a bite of her cookie, enjoying the nice weather.

“What did he do this time?” Franks looks away from the butterfly that landed on him and turns to Julie.

“Ever since he ran around with that toy car all over the neighborhood and almost ran me over!” Julie takes a deep breath of the warm spring air and slowly lets it out with a smile. “I hear he forgot his pin on the lock for his gel barrel and he’s losing it.”

Frank was about to reply when they heard rustling behind a set of bushes. Curious they look at each other then back to the void of the forest.

Let’s say they were not prepared for what they saw next.

They see you, a really, really tall, black color skin, glowing purple eyes and long limbs. You walk out the tall trees and into the clearing holding a block of dirt that was surrounded by a purple glow. Looking away from the block you caught the wide eyes of the best friends.

There was silence for what seemed like hours but it was only a few seconds you look back down at the block and show it to them with a soft coo. And in a heartbeat they run down the hill, screaming with terror.

You tilt your head in confusion and drop the block of dirt that melted away to a pile as you slowly walk towards the picnic that your friends, that you don’t know the names of, left. And turning toward the direction of where they ran off to, you see a neighborhood.

Back at the neighborhood Barnaby is outside of Wally’s home. He just wants Wally to join him to get some sweets and meet up with Sally for her rehearsal. “Home, it’s just one afternoon.”

He gets creaks and bangs as a response and he can see their shutters rattle and close. Well, that’s a no. Barnaby then sees Wally peek from the window and wave at him, he’s clearly not helping but he sees that Wally’s hair is up in his hairstyle so Barnaby assumes he got the barrel open.

“Hey, Buddy! Care to help me out here?”

“Oh sure! Home will let me out if I promise not to lock the barrel.”

“Okay….and why don’t you?”

“And risk losing my gel!? No way.”

Barnaby rolls his eyes before a pair of screams interrupted them and the trio tune to see Frank and Julie run to them. “Gee, guys, what’s wrong? Why are you yelling?”

Frank falls to the ground face first and Julie hides behind Barnaby. “It was huge! Taller than anything I’ve ever seen! It could literally touch the sun.”

“What are you talking about?” Barnaby moves to the side and helps Frank up and bust him off. “What was huge?”

Wally makes it downstairs and home reluctantly lets him out. “Are you okay?”

“It was gonna eat us and turn us into dirt, we saw it!”

Confused and a little concerned Barnaby turns to Wally, who shrugs. They all hear a chip and then a huge shadow making them look up to meet your glowing eyes. You tilt your head again and hold the basket to Julie, who flinches but slowly takes the basket from your long, slim finger.

Now seeing that you’re just a tall sweetheart her mood changes drastically. “Awe, aren’t you cute!? I’m sorry I ran away.”

Your eyes squirt as if you’re smiling and she quickly runs to you and hugs your leg. You slowly crouch down and pat her head.

Frank was still a bit cautious about you, you’re really tall and huge! How can he not? He noticed that you have small white dots all over you and think it’s cute. They’re your freckles!

Barnaby was just confused. What are you? How did you get here and what do you need? But he can’t say he’s not fascinated by just how tall you are, not to mention you don’t look like anyone else he’s met, your hair looks like it’s flooding underwater, when you move your head it slowly follows you! He thinks that is so amazing.

Wally is so amazed right now. That little artist is about three feet tall, he can’t deny he’s short but him looking up at you really lets him know exactly how tall you are. You can stack three of him and you’ll be at eye level. He sees you still playing around with Julie, who’s using your finger as a place where she can hang from. He walks over to you and stares in awe.

You notice him and look down at him before slowly holding your hand out for him to climb on. It’s weird though, because of the color of your skin you look like you have no definition, no deft. Nonetheless, you bring him up to eye level and your glowing eyes lock with his sleepy ones.

You slowly blink and that’s what got him. His eyes dilated lounges forwarded to hug your cheek. “You’re mine now.”

“Hold it right there, Elvis! They're mine!”

The whole commotion caused Eddie, Howdy and Sally to come outside to see and well, a few emotions here.

Eddie was a bit frightened, I mean you’re a skyscraper! But he does find you absolutely harmless and adorable! You’re just sitting there holding Wally while letting him and Julie fight. You remind him of a starry sky with your body color and white freckles.

Howdy isn’t that much different from Eddie, maybe a bit more scared but then again he hasn’t met you. He’s a little more worried, what exactly do you eat? Can you eat? How long has it been since you did eat something? The big brother in him is getting concerned.

Sally was having the time of her life! She immediately adores you, like how a child would look at a big horse. With wonder and amazement. Is your hair soft? How do your eyes glow? Do they glow a different color? Or maybe they dim in the dark? She has a lot of questions and she needs answers.

“I saw them first.” Julie argues with a pout, now Sally standing next to her.

“Well, they blinked at me first. So ha!” Wally, from your shoulder, argues back, running his hand over your hair and watching the glow-y locks wrap around his hand and back away.

“Oh! Oh! Is their hair soft?!” Sally asks her questions as she jumps around.

“Very. Odd, really, it almost feels like when you graze the top of still water.”

“What’s your name?” Howdy calls out to you and you look at him and smile. You take your finger and write on the ground.

‘Y/n’

“Y/n?“

“So pretty!”

Eddie smiles at Sally and takes the apple from Howdy’s hand and holds it up to you. “Okay, Y/n, are you hungry? We can ask Poppy to bake you something later.”

Taking the apple with two fingers you bring it up and open your mouth, it opens wide and the inside glows purple as well, In one gulp it was gone.

“That was…” Julie and Sally spoke up then turned to each other in amazement. “Awesome!”

“Quick, quick! Give them another.”

“Oh no you don’t!” Howdy takes a hold of them with two of his arms while the third one on his waist and the forth pointing at them in a scolding manner. “You two are not gonna run my store dry..again!”

“No fun..”

“Okay, let’s talk about the main issue here.” Frank spoke up, noticing the sun going down. “Where are they gonna go? We can’t throw them in the forest.”

“And they obviously can’t stay inside with any of us. They're too tall.” Eddie adds.

Wally hums and snuggles back to you. “They can stay with me, they can be our new neighbor!”

“Stay with you? How?”

“They can sleep next to home.”

“They’re not a pet!” Frank argues. “How about we let Wally take care of them until tomorrow, we can figure something out.”

All agreed, even Julie but she protested on it a bit beforehand. Wally asks you to put him down then tells you to lay next to Home and snuggle up next to them. Tomorrow they will figure out how to keep you in the neighborhood.

Bonus:

Poppy hears a knock on the door and she opens it to find it empty. Was this a joke? She looks around and leans forward a bit to see if she can find anyone but nothing.

She was about to close the door when you peek your head from behind her barn and smile at her. Let’s just say she still is a bit scared of you. But still bakes you sweets whenever she can.

[liminalpebble]

If you’re up for something fluffy and/or lighthearted fun - like a month ago I gave another writer I’m following this idea but she‘s been gone since then and I would still love it 🥺

I was in the mood for a Lokitty Fic because it’s been a while and for whatever reason I’min the mood:D If it’s gonna be more fluffy, funny or even angsty is up to you 🫶

Basic idea was Loki disguised as a cat 🐈‍⬛ has been hiding from something/someone in our home. Without him realizing until he’s already in too deep, he starts to fall for us and the way we care for him. Not part of his plan. He hadn’t intended to reveal his identity and surely couldn’t do it now after basically misleading us the whole time.

But what’s been escaping him since as well - we absolutely know. 🤭

A/N: Hey friend! Thanks for this very sweet and fluffy prompt. I accidentally seemed to have made it a multiparter and I have no idea where this is going except definitely to fluff town, and the comfort district. I guess stay tuned? WTF am I even doing??

Much love,

Peb

--

Stray: Part 1

Masterlist link

The rain was tumbling down in heavy sheets as you made your way from the train to your apartment. By now you'd just about memorized how many steps were left from the soaked platform to your door.

The thought depressed you a little, realizing how long you've felt stuck in this life; just another shop girl in the city, a uniform and an apron with a tired person behind it. As the cold water continued to hit you, you were glad to realize the number of steps to the lobby door was finally reaching single digits and picked up your pace in one last jolt of momentum.

Then you heard it; an almost imperceptible mewling under the incessant drumming of the storm. You turned, following the faint noise until you reached the alley and the giant dumpsters housed there. The stench was awful. You held your soaked apron over your nose as you peaked into the crevice. Two of the biggest, most beautiful, aquamarine eyes stared back at you from a void of soaked black fur. It was a cat, and it was absolutely screaming now, realizing it had someone's attention.

It's not like you'd never seen an alley cat before. There were swarms of them around, but there was just something about this one, something so desperately in need of love. The little guy seemed almost confused to be in this position whereas the other strays seemed to resign themselves to their shitty fate.

You braced yourself; tried to talk yourself out of what you knew you were about to do and had never ever done before. It would be incredibly stupid. You weren't even allowed to have pets. You didn't even know if he was sick and you would never have the money to take him to the vet. Regardless, you sighed and scooped the pathetic little creature up, swaddling him in your apron, as you hurried toward the front door. Huffing, you warned him, “Okay buddy, but I swear to god, you better not have rabies.”

-----

Loki was glad to finally be out of the rain and stench, even if it was in a less than ideal form. Several hours earlier he had landed with a crash, cushioned by the heaps of debris. He scoffed realizing his neat black suit and tie and the crisp white shirt were now utterly ruined. His sunglasses were nowhere to be found. The money; all that money that came with him as he dove out of the plane was now safely magicked away, at least.

He groaned pitifully. A fall like that coupled with a mid-air tussle with Thor was enough to floor the younger god, though he hated to admit it. And who was Thor to come after him anyway? This whole D.B. Cooper heist was his fault...all because of that idiotic bet. Loki probably would have laid there feeling very sorry for himself a good deal longer, but he heard the lonely patter of someone running toward him through the downpour. He had to admit he needed help, and it was time for some quick scheming to get it. Good thing this was always his forte.

He had barely accustomed himself to his new feline form and begun mewling loudly when he heard your footfalls slow and watched your shadow move down the alley.

Come on. He thought, imbuing it with the hint of an enchantment. Come find me, mortal.

Loki was incredibly pleased with himself and, frankly, a bit surprised that his ploy worked so easily. Such dull creatures, mortals...such soft hearts., he mused as he dozed in your arms. He was already barely conscious when he heard you quip, “Okay buddy, but I swear to god, you better not have rabies.”

Hey! Rude, he thought, attempting to give a menacing, insulted glare, but it only came out as a grimacing twitch of his whiskers and whining, grumpy, growl.

The human smiled a reluctant little grin and tussled his fur saying, “It's a good thing you're adorable.”

I'm not adorable! I am a god, you dull creature! , he screamed in his mind, but it only left his mouth as another pathetically cute whine.

---

In your bathroom you clipped your wet hair up one-handed and kept the little creature bundled against your chest. Once your hand was free you tested temperature of the bath with a wiggle of your fingers.

Satisfied, you said, “Alright friend,” holding the cat under his armpits and meeting his eyes, as if you could appeal to his sense of logic. “You stink. I have to give you a bath. You can either except your fate with dignity or you can be a little shit and claw my eyes out. I beg you to accept your fate.”

He thought to himself, Why wouldn't I want a bath? I love baths, you idiot. Now clean me, mortal. I tire of....

“Mrewwoooow!” he screamed as soon as his paw hit the warm water. He surprised you and himself as you both flinched violently. Apparently Loki was unable to resist his new feline aversion to water. Okay...okay...this is new. He mused.

“Okay....Christ! Listen here, you little shit! You can either deal with this while I scrub you down with some Herbal Essences, or you can smell like dumpster juice.”

“Meow”

“Yeah. I know...I know it's not the right thing for cats. I know I should take you to the vet first. I know this is not fucking ideal. I'm...I'm doing my best,” you said, with an unexpected hitch in your throat and slightly-welling eyes, as suddenly you both realized you weren't just talking about the bath anymore.

Loki felt an emotion he couldn't quite categorize; one he seldom felt, one others might call sympathy. So he fought his instinct with all his might and remained quiet and while you carefully washed and rinsed his fur. You smiled as your careful hands cleaned every last patch. “Thank you,” you said softly.

My pleasure, he thought, and meant it. It actually did feel very nice to be clean, and if felt even better when you dried him, and wrapped him in a warm towel in front of the space heater, with one bowl of water, and one of tuna. By the time you had showered and settled next to him on the floor in your pajamas, he already had a full belly and was drifting off again in the pleasant warmth. You sipped your tea and stroked his now very glossy and soft black fur.

“See! You're such a handsome boy now that you don't look and smell like wet trash bag. That wasn't so bad, was it?”

From where his head rested on his delicately crossed paws he lazily opened one stunning eye to glare at you menacingly, but it only made you chuckle.

As you laughed and smiled down at him, stroking his fur, he felt something else he couldn't quite name; gratitude, certainly, but also something else...something like wanting desperately to see you smile as much as possible...something like hoping that sorrow he saw a glimpse of before wouldn't eat you alive...something like just wanting you to be okay regardless of the benefit to himself.

The next time he half-awoke in the night, you were gone and the lights were out, though you had left the space-heater on for him. With his now-amplified hearing, he listened for you, anxious to know you were still there. Only once he heard the gentle undulation of your sleeping breath could he relax into dreams again and wonder what tomorrow would bring.

@mischief2sarawr @ladyofthestayingpower @acidcasualties @unlucky-number-13 @goblingirlsarah @gigglingtiggerv2 @lokihiddleston @lokischambermaid @lokisgoodgirl @marcotheflychair @smolvenger @alexakeyloveloki @littlespaceyelf @loopsisloops @joyful-enchantress @eleniblue @loz-3 @the-haven-of-fiction @sweetsigyn @muddyorbs @icytrickster17 @holdmytesseract @thenerdyoldersister @thedistractedagglomeration @sailorholly @peachyjinx @coldnique @sarahscribbles @peaches1958 @infinitystoner @mischiefmaker615 @coldnique @jennyggggrrr @tripleyeeet @itsybitchylittlewitchy @mochie85

[rainbowchaox]

Pissa Headcanon Post #2

1) Phil wakes up the next day after their reunion next to Missa in their bed. Missa still sleeping and Phil is just amazed and smitten that Missa is finally back. That he can’t help smiling to himself as he gently caresses Missa cheek and chastely kisses him awake. Bad morning breath be damned.

2) Missa has surprisedly strong opinions about wings. And of course he has a favorite and that is obviously his husbands. Missa being Missa will plainly say how gorgeous the wings are. Which just makes phil bird brain preen. Because I like to imagine avians are very vain about their wings.

3) The days after Missa returns Chayanne will wake up and enter his dads room to force himself into cuddling with them both. Anytime this happens Missa who always cuddles with Philza immediately always cuddles with his son.

4) Chayanne and Philza both have a non serious rivalry when it comes to who gets attention/affection from Missa. Both adore and love Missa the way he is. If only Missa wasn’t blinded by self doubt he would see that as well. Chayanne usually wins these battles because he inherited Missa puppy eyes.

5) Philza always has a camera on hand and after Missa returns. Has loads of Missa being adorable. He just doesn’t show others the Missa album because he has a reputation to maintain.

6) Everyone that wasn’t there at the adoption have this image of Chayanne being mature, independent, and self reliant. Only to see when Missa comes home Chayanne to go full papas boy. Chayanne would demand uppies and cuddles and just in general being happy to just play with missa.

7) When Missa came home and finally cooked the family a meal. Chayanne almost cried. Missa is where Chayanne got his love of cooking from after all. Chayanne definitely has “Papas cooking is better than anyone elses” disease. Chayanne definitely has a favorite dad. And it isn’t Phil.

8) As two death aligned beings Phil and Missa can both sense their specific energies. Philza mainly uses it to save Missa from danger. Both Phil and Missa have different types of energies. Phil is closest to like the actual void in the end while Missa is more closest to soul fire.

9) Chayanne after Papa Missa came home. He has no tolerance for anyone trying to flirt with his dads. He will literally write things like “I’m gonna tell papa/dad” or “I’m watching you” or “Missa loves dad Phil are you blind?” Or “Dad Philza literally kissed papa Missa good morning.”

10) Philza sometimes just kisses Missa to shut him up. Especially if Missa was saying bad things about himself or overly apologizing. It literally never fails to make poor Missa to blue screen.

11) Philza usually most of the time looks calm and collected but whenever he’s with Missa. His brain is just screaming how much he loves Missa and omg how can such a adorable man exist- (his face never changes)

12) Missa immediately accepts Tallulah as his own and they both like to garden together. Tallulah definitely made Missa a flower crown out of poppies.

[kingkatsuki]

I just love the idea of falling for Bakugou before you’ve even met him, you know? Like him showing up in your life when you’re at your absolute lowest and helping you through? And little do you know that you’re doing the same for him? When he’s too proud to talk to any of his friends or ask for support.

Imagine it’s been a few weeks since you broke up with your boyfriend, and the breakup wasn’t amicable. You’re back to feeling lonely and isolated as you stay in the same apartment you used to cohabitate with him. Every room seems that much bigger, and his side of the bed is always cold. You’re trying to convince yourself that you’re over him as you trawl through dating apps and start the arduous process of deleting all the photographs of you together on your phone. Memories that now feel wasted as you remember what you once had, what you lost.

Your friends force you out one Friday night, sick of seeing you wallow in your own self-pity as you decide on an outfit to wear. It’s been well over two months and there’s still an ache in your chest, a void in your life that you’re yet to replace as you down shot after shot with your girlfriends. Instead of the alcohol numbing your pain, it begins to exasperate it. Reminding you of all the times your ex-boyfriend came home late smelling of other women, forgot your birthday or anniversaries and the fights you had together.

Telling your friends you were going to the restroom as you excited towards the smoking area of the bar, standing outside in the cool nighttime air as the heavy bass of the speakers dulled through the brick walls. If your friends knew what you were doing they’d probably tell you to stop, not to trudge up old memories but you couldn’t ignore the ache in your chest or the rage brewing behind your eyes.

Pulling your phone from your bag as you move to text him. A number that you’d long since deleted from your phone, but being with your ex for so long you typed it into your phone like muscle memory. Texting inebriated long abandoned as you held the phone to your ear as it rang, letting the rage build inside you as you heard a rugged “Hello?”

You didn’t wait before you exploded on the phone, unleashing the feelings you should’ve conveyed to him during the breakup. Alcohol fuelling your rage as you continued berating him for being a horrible person and a terrible boyfriend. You probably looked insane shouting as the other smokers congregated outside, but no one paid yo any mind as you continued to scream your fury at him.

Until the voice on the other end of the line spoke properly.

“You done yet?” You could hear the sarcastic lilt to his voice as you felt embarrassment begin to flood your body, “It sounds like you got terrible taste in men, sweetheart.”

You’d dialled the wrong number. And somehow even though he was a stranger and you’d been the one to call him by mistake, his words had you seething.

“You don’t fucking know me.”

“I know enough to know he’s a grade A asshole.” The man scoffed, “Sounds like you’d be better without him.”

“Yeah, well he thought that about me too.”

“He break up with you?” The guy asked nonchalantly but the question had you trying to mask your hurt.

“Yeah because I’m still not good enough for a guy that treated me like absolute shit,” You felt your voice raising again as your throat became hoarse, “Cause all men are fucking assholes.”

“Listen here, princess. I don’t know who you think you’re talking to, but I ain’t your boyfriend.”

The man continued to talk to you on the phone, even making sure you were okay before hanging up as you stepped inside the club with tears streaming down your cheeks. You hadn’t even realised you’d been crying— the slightest bit of kindness on the phone when he asked you if you were gonna be okay had you sobbing as you rejoined your friends.

But what you don’t expect is to wake up to a text from the same wrong number the next morning.

“You always go around giving random strangers shit on the phone, sweetheart?”

Originally I was gonna have this where Kirishima was your boyfriend and he died, and you keep calling his voicemail to hear his voice until one day the voicemail box is full and so the number redirects to Bakugou’s phone but I didn’t wanna kill Kiri😂😭

[lottiecrabie]

begging linecook!matty to meet u at a halloween party bc ur Drunk even tho he said he didn’t wanna go and would just link up with you after. he gets there and sees u in ur slutty costume and just loses it because that’s pretty unlike you

ofc the linecook halloween blurbs immediately say Slutty

you hold yourself up with a shoulder on the wall, but the world still spins around you. the hallway to the bathroom seems to zigzag ahead, and you can’t be arsed to make sense of the maze right now. applause by lady gaga rings behind you, with the resonating off-key screams of your friends chewing through the lyrics. light flashes up your face. you sway on your spot.

Hey

Hi

What are you wearing

Haha that’s a joke

Unless?

I miss yoh

Why couldn’t you have gone out with us we could be fucking in a bathroom right now:(

Your thumbs linger over the screen. You ready to tap out some new nonsensical stream of consciousness, but Matty’s speech bubble appears. You gasp. It surprises you, somehow, that he’s seeing these, like you had assumed his number was a speed dial to the void.

how drunk are you

You scoff. Why do you assume I’m drunk?

believe it or not i am literate. i can fkg read it

The last three shots of The Darling’s cheapest and strongest booze does haze your brain, humming pleasantly through your limbs. Narrowing to that needy center of yours, the one that always begs for him and never seems to be satisfied. You bite your lip, giggling as you send; Will you come join me if I show yoh my tits

jesus christ.

No?

i’m on my way A grin splits your face. You send him a string of emojis even you can’t decipher the meaning of, laughing to yourself as you get swallowed by the dancing crowd again.

Fifteen minutes later and Matty’s hand is at your shoulder, fishing you out of the dancefloor. You gasp, turning around to hook your arms behind his neck. “Matty!” You reach up on your tiptoes, pressing kisses all over his face. The faint remainder of your red lipstick glues to him in the shape of your lips. You laugh, wiping the one on his cheek. “I’m so glad you came.”

Matty nods, checking behind himself for the quickest exit. His hand tugs you along, and you let yourself be puppeteered away for a minute before you freeze, eyes wide. “I have to show you my tits!” You let go of his hand, bunching up the hem of your shirt.

“Fucking—” He clutches your hands, trapping them, preventing you from flashing him and half the bar. “No.”

“I made a promise,” you pout, but let him pull your fingers far away from your shirt. “My father always says a person is only as good as their word.”

“I’ll see them soon, princess.”

You smirk, licking your lips. “Oh yeah? Gonna have your way with me?”

“When you’re not fucking wasted.”

You frown. “‘M not.”

He snorts. “Sure.”

“I’m not!” The words come out high-pitched and whiney, completely contradicting you.

“You can barely stand straight,” he says, looking you up and down. His body freezes. His gaze licks up your body, taking in the heels, the black shorts, the tight little shirt your breasts practically fall out of. “What are you wearing?”

“It’s my costume,” you say, grinning proud. Your square your shoulders, straightening your back to show it all off. “You like?”

Matty swallows thickly. “What are you even supposed to be?”

You roll your eyes, pointing to the pair of ears sticking out of your hair. “A cat.”

“Fuck,” he mutters to himself, gaze fixed down on your tits. You bet he regrets not letting you show them off now. “What are you doing wearing this when I’m not there?”

You huff, crossing your arms. “Well I asked you to be, didn’t I?”

“And when I said we’d see each other after, you should’ve put on a fucking sheet over yourself and gone as a ghost.” He pulls up on the neckline of your shirt, trying to cover your breasts up, but it only makes it ride up your stomach instead. Matty makes a low sound in the back of his throat.

You get up on your tiptoes, whispering in his ear, “Don’t worry. Your view when I take it off is gonna be even better.” Your hand circle his wrist, making him lazily grope one of your tits. He groans. You grin, grazing your lips down his jaw, lingering over his mouth. “Matty, take me home and fuck me.”

He makes a frustrated noise, conflicted. Then drops his hand from your breast, disentangling from you, shaking his head. “You’re trouble,” he swears, catching your shoulders and driving you through the crowd, one respectful arm-length distance away.

You pout, dragging your feet. Matty shakes his head, promising lowly. “Tomorrow.” You grin, Halloween cheer coming back to you.

“Promise?”

“Of course,” Matty starts, cheeky. “A person is only as good as their word.”

[wolfjackle-creates]

I'll Carry Your Heart with Me (Until I find You Again): Part 1

I'll be posting parts 1 and 2 right now. The rest should be up later tonight, but I'm gonna be tied up the next five or six hours.

As you can see, we have a title for this fic! (I may drop the parentheses. Been going back and forth on that.)

Summary: Danny and Jason meet shortly after Jason becomes a ghost in the zone and become good friends. This segment will cover their first two meetings.

Word Count: 2k words

----------

Jason sat on the island that appeared around him when he landed in this strange place and stared into the swirling green void. It should have been unsettling, but it felt peaceful. If he closed his eyes, it felt like his dad would be right behind him and Alfred was going to call them in for dinner any minute.

But he was surrounded by silence and all alone.

He screamed just to make a noise and turned away from the void. Behind him a punching bag had appeared. Good. With another yell he went to town on it, practicing all the punches and kicks he’d learned at Batman’s side. Gloves formed over his hands, making him realize his clothes had morphed into his Robin costume.

It just made his punches that much harder.

He wasn’t sure how long he’d been going at the bag when he realized some of the yells he was hearing weren’t his own.

“And fuck Chaucer!”

Chaucer? What could that be about? But the ridiculousness of it was enough to pull him from his anger. Robin faded as Jason, literary nerd, took his place. No one dissed Chaucer in his hearing. Where was the yelling coming from?

He flew up and looked around before shaking his head. He wasn’t alive anymore and his sight wasn’t his best sense here. Closing his eyes, he sent out his awareness. This close to his island, he could tell whenever anyone was nearby.

And there they were! Close, but not uncomfortably so which was why he hadn’t noticed sooner. Following the feeling, it didn’t take long to find a boy with a backpack on shouting and throwing what looked like green fire at pieces of paper.

“Oi!” he called. “Who’re you to diss Chaucer near my lair?”

“Well maybe if he would just make fucking sense, I wouldn’t have to diss him!” The boy’s hands still glowed green, and Jason fell into a defensive position.

“He does make sense! Not his fault if you’re too dense to know it.” Jason cautiously moved closer, keeping a close eye on the boy’s posture to prepare for an attack. People in this world loved to fight, but while the kid remained wary, he didn’t move to attack. As soon as Jason was close enough, he grabbed one of the papers out of the air.

It felt weird. Both more and less solid that normal paper. Where had this come from? He took his eyes off the boy to skim the paper. It was a page from an exam? Completely covered in red ink. Well-deserved red ink, too.

“Are these your answers?” Jason couldn’t help but look up with a raised eyebrow. “You really don’t understand Chaucer, do you?”

“It’s not my fault I don’t have time to study!” complained the boy. He drew up his knees and covered his face with his no-longer-glowing hands. “I’m so tired and it doesn’t make sense and Lancer doesn’t care.”

“Tired? But we’re dead. We don’t need to sleep. I didn’t even know there was a school for ghosts. Where is it? Is it any good?”

The boy pulled his hands away and looked at him with furrowed brows. “You, you don’t know who I am?”

Jason bristled and stood a little taller. “Should I?” he asked. Maybe he should venture out from his lair more. He just felt so uncomfortable anytime he left that he hadn’t bothered. What if someone came and tried to take it from him and he wasn’t there to protect it?

“No! It’s just… Everyone I’ve met has already learned about me from somewhere.” A ring of light surrounded his waist and passed over his body, leaving a living human in his place. Instinctively, Jason raised his hands again and flared his core in warning, but the boy raised his hands and sent out no-harm, peace pulses. “I’m Danny. The halfa. Half-dead, half-alive. Half-ghost, half-human.”

“How…?” Jason didn’t even know how to finish his sentence and let it trail unfinished. Though, he had seen people come back to life when he was Robin. So, maybe it did make sense.

Danny shrugged. “My parents are scientists studying ghosts. They built a portal to the zone and because I was stupid, it turned on while I was inside. Thousands of volts of electricity and ectoplasm killed and revived me at the same time.”

“That’s why the paper feels weird…” Jason grabbed one of them again and ran his fingers along it. “It’s from Earth.”

“Yep. My latest failed English test. I just don’t have the time to read the books. And when I do, I don’t see the same things Mr. Lancer swears are there! Or I don’t understand them.” Danny sighed and rubbed his face again. “I hate it. I was a straight A student before I died.”

Jason looked between the paper and the boy. “Why has it been so much harder since you died?”

“So many other ghosts are trying to get through the portal to spend time on Earth. And when they do, they hurt people or cause property damage or try and hunt me for sport. I have to stop them. Even if it’s the middle of the night or during class.”

“Oh, you’re a superhero. I was a hero, too, before I died.” He let his Robin uniform replace the civilian clothes and grinned at Danny. “I’m Jason. I’d say nice to meet you, but I can’t like anyone who disses Chaucer.”

“Why do you like him so much?”

“Do you have the book with you?” asked Jason, nodding his head at Danny’s backpack.

Danny shrugged it off and pulled out a book. “Yeah, why?”

“C’mon. I’ll show you.” He turned and headed back to his lair, gesturing for Danny to follow him. On his island was a building, the outside rather plain, like any run down apartment building in Gotham. But the door led directly to Alfred’s kitchen in the manor. He held it open and waved Danny through.

The boy, still in human form, looked around curiously. “You know, no one’s ever let me come to their island before. Or enter their door.”

Jason shrugged. “Well, I need to prove you wrong about Chaucer and no reason we can’t be comfortable as we do. And if I change your mind, then we can be friends!”

“And if you don’t change my mind?”

“I take you outside and we fight it out like proper ghosts.” Jason grinned. “It’ll be fun.”

Danny laughed. “All right, do your best.”

“So, the page I saw was full of questions on the Wife of Bath and her prologue and tale, so we’ll start there. To really understand her, you have to know what women dealt with in the fourteenth century…”

-----

Jason tried not to worry when Danny didn’t come back right away despite promising to return for more English tutoring. Jason also planned to help him figure out how to balance a civilian and hero life. He looked over the lesson plans for both English and martial arts training that he’d made for the hundredth time.

He was going to start with how to safely fall. Just as Dick had taught him back when Bruce first brought him home. Was Dick happy that he had Bruce to himself again now that Jason was gone? Shaking his head to dispel the thoughts, he looked around for something to distract himself. Bread. He could make bread. Alfred taught him how and kneading was excellent stress relief.

He’d just finished kneading and set the dough in a covered bowl to proof when he felt the unmistakable shiver that meant someone was coming close to his haunt. His Robin uniform replaced jeans and a t-shirt as he flew out the kitchen towards the intruder.

Only to laugh and relax when he saw Danny.

“So, the halfa returns! I was starting to think you didn’t like me.” Jason said it with a grin to prove it was a joke, even as something in his core relaxed.

“Sorry, life’s been hectic. Do you know Skulker? He got through the portal again and it took me three days to get him contained. And as soon as I did, Technus was out. And then my parents built a new defense system for the house that I had to dismantle before it could kill me. Again.”

“Woah, woah, wait. What was that last one?”

Danny paused. “Did I not tell you about my parents?”

“Not really. Just that they study ghosts.”

“Hunt, more like. They build ghost weapons to destroy ghosts. It’s why I haven’t told them about me. They’d accept me, I’m sure of it. But… then they talk about how they’d like to rip a ghost molecule-by-molecule and I can’t get the words out.”

Jason let out a low whistle. “And I thought I won the lottery for terrible birth parents. But at least I had Bruce and Alfred. You should contact the Justice League, get help. I can tell you how.”

But Danny just waved a hand in the air. “A year and a half ago, I would’ve jumped at the offer. But I’ve got it under control now. And I don’t want anyone with powers in Amity. What if they get overshadowed? Then I’d be fighting someone with both meta abilities and ghost abilities.”

“Overshadowed?” Jason wasn’t sure he’d heard the term before.

“You know, when you take over a human’s body and control it.”

Jason blinked. “We can do that?”

“You… didn’t know? How long have you been a ghost?”

Jason tried to consider. It was impossible to tell time in the Realms. The area off his island was always the same swirling green with no sun or moon in sight. And he wasn’t sure how long it had taken to gain consciousness after dying. He didn’t think it was immediate. “I’m… not sure. I died December 1st XX. What’s the date on Earth now?”

“So recently? I’ve never met such a young ghost before. Its only been a few weeks. Today’s the twentieth.”

That wasn’t possible. Jason shook his head. “No, that can’t be. I know I’ve been here longer than that. I know how long it takes me to read a book and how many I’ve read.”

“Time in the zone can be a bit wonky.” Danny clasped Jason’s arm. The gesture made him flinch, though he knew it was supposed to be comforting. Danny’s arms fell to his side again. “Sorry.”

Needing to change the subject, Jason asked, “So overshadowing, huh? What else can ghosts do?”

The grin Danny gave him convinced him he had the right idea. “Oh, you have no idea. How about instead of whatever you were going to show me, I teach you to fight like a ghost?”

Jason got an overwhelming feeling of fun-excitement-mischief that weren’t his own and his eyes widened. “Can I sense your emotions? Is that another ghost thing?”

Danny laughed and it was filled with so much enjoyment that Jason couldn’t even be offended. “Dude, you really don’t know anything. We can project emotions to other ghosts. It’s easy. Think something at me.”

Jason bit his lip as he considered what to do. His eyes lit up and he tapped Danny on the nose as he thought hard game-tag-play-fun before flying away as fast as he could.

Danny shouted after him, “You are so not getting away from me!”

As expected, Danny used the game to show him all the cool things ghosts could do. He could shoot energy beams now! Just like Kori! Or, well he would be just like her once he got a bit better at controlling them.

After who knows how long, they ended up lying on their backs on the grass, exhausted from the exertion. Jason wasn’t even sure who was It anymore.

It had been the most fun he'd had in longer than he cared to remember.

----------

Next

Have all the fluff. I love them so much.

Not much of a tag list yet since this is so new, but I can add more on if you'd like.

@britcision, @echoednonny

[66sharkteeth]

I am SO sorry about that other anon good lord, who do they think they are??? You're a human being with feelings and emotions and hardships!! Or a shark I guess in your case, but my point still stands.

I, too, have been a long-time fan of your comic. CoB is my favorite webcomic and I've been loyally following and reading the updates since... end of s1?? It's been a while. BUT despite that, I know that you're still a person at the end of the day, and that sometimes you just need to get shit off your chest. It's far healthier to vent and get things off your chest than it is to bottle it up.

I haven't paid attention because I'm following like 500 different tumblrs, but may I suggest tagging your rants? That way, if people don't want to see it, they can just blacklist the tag, and you can keep getting things off your chest.

>>> Also just a reminder to everyone that YOU CURATE YOUR OWN ONLINE EXPERIENCES. The tag blocker and unfollow button is there for a reason. If you don't like what someone posts, either block the tag or just unfollow them. It's not that hard.

Sorry to that anon in that I didn’t mean to send any hate their way. I appreciate what you’re saying but I understand their point. I made this as a space for fans and I shouldn’t be using it for personal baggage. I’m just going to try to avoid using it like that from now on, so hopefully a tag won’t be necessary but I’ll make sure to do so if I do fall in that hole again. I hopefully just find a better outlet, but I just always appreciate being heard here, even if only by a few people. Even just a like on one of my posts tells me someone heard me and sometimes that’s just all I need. This was just kinda the only place I can get that since Twitter and IG would attract too much attention, and well, my private accounts… just feel like screaming into a void that just echos everything back and confirms everything I’m venting about. I’m gonna try to avoid venting here from now on and do my best to just keep it a positive fan space, but I appreciate all the support up til now whenever I’ve been having a bad night

[silverstonesainz-archive]

foolish

summary: foolishly, irrevocably, in too deep

pairing: carlos sainz x fem!reader ; kind of lance stroll x fem!reader

word count: 5.2k

warnings: profanity, google translate spanish, implied smut, toxic behavior, jealousy, borderline emotional manipulation.

“Come on, you need to go out and stop waiting for a text that isn’t gonna come.” 

Tes doesn’t even spare you a glance as she tries to fix her makeup in the mirror. You lean back into the bed, a sigh leaving you. 

“I just don’t feel like going to the club on a Wednesday Tes,” You mutter, picking at your cuticles. 

“Bullshit.” She finally turns in her spot, moving to sit on the edge of bed by you, “You’re the biggest clubrat I’ve ever met and would never pass up the opportunity for a table and free booze.” 

You shrug, “Maybe I’ve changed.” 

She rolls her eyes, “No, you’re just down about Carlos, again. What happened now? He didn’t text you back? He leave you on read again?”

You grimace at her tone, words searing into your chest. He didn’t text you back was the problem, but she didn’t need to point it out.

There is something truly sick and twisted about the way you constantly feel the need to be near him. Time and time again, he’s proven unworthy of your time and yet you continue to give him more of it. And all your friends tell you to leave him. They tell you he’s a waste of your time, that you deserve so much better. But who’s to say that? Who’s to say that you deserve more than what Carlos is giving you, other than yourself?

Pushing and pulling, screaming and slamming doors only to come crawling back. It was an endless, tiring cycle. Admittedly, you were fucking exhausted. But then you see those pretty brown eyes, wide and filled with… fuck you didn’t even know what it was. But he looks at you and you can’t say no. There was no fighting him and that wide-eyed gaze. 

“I don’t get why you put up with his shit y/n,” Tes sighs, “You deserve so much better.”

“He’s not that bad,” You defend, “He’s good to me.” 

“Yeah, when he wants to be,” She mutters. “He hasn’t texted you in three freaking days. That’s not so ‘he’s good to me’ of him.” 

You look away from your best friend, setting your phone down on your lap. “Well we’re not dating, so he doesn’t have to keep me updated.”

Tes shakes her head, “You always have a defense.”

“I’m just saying Tes, I-”

“Yeah, I know. But like you said, you’re not dating. So you don’t have to sit at home by yourself, waiting on him. Let’s go have fun, let’s get crazy.” Tes smiles, pushing her long black hair over her shoulder, “Show him that you’re having fun without him. That you are better off without him.” 

You contemplated the idea. She’s right, maybe he will text you back if he saw that you were doing just fine without him. You pick up your phone to see if there are any changes, but alas your screen is still void of his name.  

“Y/n, fucks sake.” She shakes her head, standing from the bed and going to your closet. Tes pulls out the smallest black dress she could find, taking the fabric off the hanger and throwing it in your direction, “Put the dress on. We’re going.” 

In an hour’s time, with help from Tes, you were out the door and in a cab on the way to the club. As the car pulls up to the nightclub, you see a multitude of people crowding the door, feel the bass thumping in your heart. You pay for the cab before Tes drags you by the wrist. You both walk past the line, the multitude of people waiting to be let in and out of the cold. 

“The line is that way,” You say, pulling back slightly in an attempt to slow Tes down.  

“Pierre said to meet him in the back,” She says nonchalantly, eyes casted on her phone as they turn the corner.

“What?!” You yank your arm from her grip, stopping in your tracks. “Pierre?!”

“Y/n will you chill out?” She laughs, unaware (or possibly uncaring) of the panic on your face. “It’s just Pierre.”

“And who?”

“And who?” Tes looks at you confused. 

“Yeah, who else is at this stupid table?” You cross your arms over your chest, to prove a point but also to warm yourself. The little black dress is doing you very little favors in terms of keeping you warm. 

“I don’t know Y/n, we’ll have to go in and find out.” She begins to walk, but stops when she doesn’t hear you following. “Y/n, I wouldn’t purposely bring you to a club where Carlos is at. First off, I don’t like him. I’d rather swallow glass than to be in the same room as him. And second, Pierre doesn’t even hangout with him like that. I doubt he’ll be here. Now c’mon, it’s so fucking cold!” 

You grunt under your breath but follow anyway. Pierre is by the back entrance with a grin on his face as Tes approaches him, and wide eyes when he sees you.

“Didn’t think I’d see you tonight, Y/n,” Pierre smiles, outstretching his arm to give you a quick, half-assed side hug. “You look good.” 

You feel your cheeks tinge red when you see the way his blue eyes unapologetically scan your body, “Thanks Pierre.” 

You and Tes follow behind Pierre all the way to the table behind the DJ booth. The club is crowded, filled with dancing bodies and people crowding the bar for a severely overpriced vodka soda. There are a couple drivers and their partners at the table, the likes of Daniel and Heidi and George and Carmen already touchy and in their own world. It’s no surprise to you that Lando is already breathing down the DJ’s neck, bopping along to whatever house music song is playing.

What does surprise you, is that Lance is there sitting with Alex. They’re both too engrossed in the conversation to notice your or Tes, not that you minded. You grip Pierre’s arm, pulling him down so you can yell into his ear.

“You got a very interesting crowd here.” 

You see the way his shoulders shake as he chuckles, Pierre turning his head so he can respond, “Just put it in the driver’s chat. I don’t think anyone else is coming, if you were wondering.” 

“I wasn’t!” You scowl, and he laughs, nodding. He mouths a ‘sure’ to which you respond with a middle finger. 

When you turn, Tes is pouring shots of something clear. She pulls Lance and Alex over, handing them a glass each before giving you yours. You don’t hear whatever toast Tes says, but cheer anyways and down your first shot. 

Shot number two is shared with Daniel and Heidi. The third with Pierre. 

The fourth was solo, all on your own as Lance laughs at the grimace on your face. You pout at him, sitting by him as he shakes his head. 

“Feeling alright?” He asks, lips nearly brushing your ear. 

You nod, “Fantastic!” 

What you don’t see is Pierre doing a quick video of the area around him, the camera sweeping over you and Lance when he leans in to ask you something else. The whole conversation is a blur to you, mostly him asking about you. You never talked much to Lance, he always seemed so far from you and the people you normally hung out with. But in the drunken conversation, after yelling in the other’s ear for maybe fifteen minutes, you conclude that you like Lance. 

“Do you wanna dance?” You ask him, leaning in even closer. You can feel the ghost of Lance’s fingers on your thigh, but he doesn’t make a move. Your drunken spirit deflates slightly.

He shakes his head, “No. I have no rhythm, and I’d rather not embarrass myself in front of a pretty girl.” 

You grin widely, shaking your head, “Nonsense. I can teach you.” You try to stand, but all the alcohol rushes to your head and you stumble over. Lance is quick, hands moving to your waist to steady you. 

“You good?” He asks, thick brows furrowed. You nod quickly, finding your balance and standing in your place. Lance’s hands only linger for a moment longer before he pulls away, nodding. You flop back into your seat next to him, leaning back. 

There’s a tap on your shoulder and when you turn, Tes pushes her phone in front of your face. Your heart drops at the photo she’s showing you. It’s one of Carlos and some girl, his arm slung over her as they walk to wherever it may be. What really makes your chest ache is what comes after, the photo of him pressing a kiss on her temple. And to add insult to injury he was wearing the scarf you bought him. For christmas.

You push her phone away, “I need another drink.” 

Shot number five doesn’t burn as bad as the first four did, and you’d never find out about shot number six because Lance is grabbing your wrist to stop you. “Maybe you oughta slow down,” he suggests.

You shake your head, “I don’t think so. C’mon Lance, live a little.” 

You hand the glass over to him, smiling to mask the pain you’re currently feeling. Lance sighs, shrugging as he takes the small glass from your grasp and throwing the liquid down his throat quickly. You cheer loudly, quickly handing him some club soda to wash down the burn. 

“Lance Stroll,” You say loudly, slinging your arm over his shoulder and your other arm around his front in a sideways hug, “You might just be my new best friend.” And drunkenly, you press a kiss to his cheek

He laughs at your comment, his arm going around your torso to give you a friendly squeeze. “Whatever you say y/n.” 

You crane your neck, noticing the sheepish smile on his face. He doesn’t look over at you, instead keeping his shy gaze trained on whatever is in front of him. You’re about to say something when Lando’s loud voice interrupts you.

“Hey! You made it!” 

Your head turns at the sound of Lando’s voice, heart beating out of your chest when you see who he was referring to. You feel like a deer caught in the headlights, frozen and waiting for impact. Carlos’s brown eyes are on you, never leaving even as he shakes Lando’s hand. His gaze is angry, but subtle enough that only you know that it is. He only looks away when his best friend grabs him by the shoulders, shaking him as he says something that is drowned out by the music. 

Your mind is reeling, and the only sensible thing to do now is to down your sixth shot. It burns your throat when you do, and you’re frantically drinking out of Lance’s mixed drink to get rid of the taste. It doesn’t help, the ghost of tequila in the glass only makes it worse. Lance takes the cup from you, tapping on the bottle girl to ask for some soda on your behalf. 

“She’ll be back with some soda for you,” He says, resting his arm on the back of the seat and effectively behind your head. 

You’re about to say something, but Carlos steps over in front of the two of you. His hand goes to pat Lance’s shoulder, and it forces the Canadian driver to look up and away from you. His hand slips from behind you to give Carlos a proper handshake, the two boys exchanging words you had no energy to decipher. 

The alcohol and smell of Carlos’s cologne has your mind swirling. You sit up when you feel his gaze on you, and you let yourself stare at him. His brown eyes still read with aggression, and you already know what that means for you. But you didn’t want him to win, didn’t want the night to go the way it goes. You were mad at him, down right embarrassed because of him. The alcohol gives you some courage, just enough to stare him down and not cower away like you normally would.

“Hola hermosa,” He says, leaning down to press a firm kiss on your cheek as a greeting. “Te ves bien.” he compliments. You look good.

You smile, nodding, “Tú también.” You too.

He does. He looks godly in that stupid light blue button up and white pants. His hair is freshly cut, pushed back and away from his face. He looks so good and it makes you so angry. You want to punch him straight in the face, straight in his big fucking nose. 

“Lance and I were just about to dance,” You pipe up, earning a confused look from the both of them. You stand from your seat, hand finding Lance’s as you pull him with you, “Excuse me.” 

You don’t give either driver time to protest, leading Lance to the small crowd of people who were dancing by the DJ booth. You ignore the Spaniard’s gaze burning a hole in the back of your head, instead pulling Lance in the middle of a crowd of people who were too drunk to care that the boy in front of you was as stiff as a rod. 

“Relax,” You say, releasing his hand as you begin to sway your hips to the music, “Just feel the music, let it lead the way.” 

It takes a couple of seconds before Lance allows his body to move to the beat. But even then he’s just bouncing, shifting his weight from leg to leg as he tries to keep up with you. You don’t have to look back at the table to know that Carlos keeps a watchful eye. He makes sure that Lance doesn’t touch you, makes sure that he doesn’t take what’s his. He let you have your fun, and you know full well you’d pay for this in some form or another. But you’re having too much fun, giggling as you encourage Lance to move a little more. You take his hand and he spins you around, the two of you laughing at the cheesy move. 

It didn’t take long before Lance was really beginning to let loose, laughing with you as you both tried to get in sync and failed terribly. Six shots of liquor has your mind in a haze, and you can’t help but wonder if the alcohol made you like the way your hand felt in Lance’s or if the feeling was coming from a much more genuine place. You look over your shoulder, eyes locking with Carlos as he stares you down. And suddenly your stomach is doing back flips at the fire in his gaze. He was mad, you can see it. 

But you didn’t care, at least not right now.

The alcohol, however much Lance might’ve had, makes him bolder. He was normally so shy, so much more reserved. But even in a sea of people, sweaty and grinding to the music, he felt so comfortable with you. He pulls you closer to him, one arm slinging around your waist while the other hand stays intertwined with yours. Your bodies begin to move in sync, foreheads pressed against each other as you both savor the feeling of being pressed up against each other. 

Carlos was seething, watching the way you are wrapped up in Lance. His fingers grip the glass tightly, clenching his jaw as he uses everything in him not to cause a scene. No one noticed the way he watches you, like a tiger ready to pounce. He wanted to step in, but he let you have your fun. He’d get you back eventually. 

He knew you all too well, and Carlos knew you wouldn’t stray too far from him.

You both dance until your feet ache. Lance pushes through the crowd, fingers still linked as you follow behind him. When you join the group once again, everyone is in their own drunken world and not paying attention to you and Lance stumbling back. 

Except Carlos. 

Lance is pulled off by Alex, and now you’re standing alone. No one is looking at you, nor do they notice the way Carlos downs his drink before he stands and saunters over to you. He towers over you, fingers ghosting under your chin to keep your gaze on him. 

“¿Te divertiste?” Did you have fun?

You don’t answer. Your voice is caught in your throat and your body is frozen in his hold. There’s a ghost of a smirk on his lips as he quickly looks over to his right. You make the mistake of following his gaze, making eye contact with Lance who gives you a tight lipped smile before he walks away with Alex.

You should’ve ran after him, should’ve told Carlos to fuck off. But no amount of alcohol could make you so bold, nothing could ever let you stray far from something familiar. Even if familiarity would fuck you over anyhow.

Carlos dips his head, lips tickling your ear lightly, “Ready to go home?”

There is a sense of self-hatred that courses through your veins as you nod. Embarrassment coating your skin as you let Tes know you’d be leaving, and the knowing stares of her and Pierre as they bid adieu. Your skin burns as Carlos laces his fingers through yours as he drags you out of the busy nightclub. The last thing you feel is guilt, guilt as you shoot an apologetic smile Lance’s way, who watches you in Carlos’ tow from the bar. 

You sit quietly in the passenger seat of Carlos’ Ferrari, picking at skin around your nails. The air is thick, tense. 

It doesn’t change, even as he helps you out of the car when he parks in his spot. Breathing is still a challenge, even with his hand resting on the small of your back. The air remains heavy, even as you walk into his apartment and sit at the edge of his bed. You watch as Carlos moves around his room, taking off his watch and setting it on the nightstand. He hasn’t said a single thing to you since the club, and you were getting nervous. 

You shouldn’t have come.

He finally walks over to you, knees splitting your legs so he can stand between them. His index and thumb pinch your chin lightly, forcing you to look up at him. His eyes scan your face before it rakes over your body. Your chest rises and falls as you take deep breaths, the nerves beginning to take its toll on you. 

“Why are you so nervous Y/n?” 

“I’m not.” You lie. 

He chuckles, his hand leaving your chin and moving to weave themselves into your hair. “Your leg is bouncing, you’re picking at your skin again. What's on your mind?”

You shake your head, moving your hands under your legs to stop yourself from picking at the already raw area. Carlos hums above you, fingers massaging your scalp.

“I missed you,” He mumbles, “Did you miss me?” 

“No.” You lie again.

He smirks, hands gripping your hair lightly, “Mentirosa.” Liar.

You yank his hand from your hair, pushing him backwards lightly as you stand. “I don’t.” Your tone is defensive, as if it would hide the shake in your voice as you fein a kind of strength you know you don’t have.

Carlos watches as you walk over to your shoes, “Where do you think you’re going?”

“Home.” 

“No.”

“Yes.” 

“Y/n,” he pinches the bridge of his nose, clearly frustrated at how stubborn you are, before looking back up at you, “It’s late. You’re drunk. Stay.” 

Carlos had grown accustomed to your submissive behavior, he didn’t know what to make of your sudden stubborn nature. He was getting worried that maybe you’ve grown out of him. 

“I’m not drunk,” You argue, “I don’t want to be here, if you’re just going to be mad at me.” 

He looks at you incredulously, “I’m not mad at you.” 

He’s lying, you know he is. You watch as he clenches his jaw, trying to keep his composure.

“So you’re not mad about Lance?”

He scoffs, “No. Why would I be?” 

You raise your brow, gaging his features as he stands across you. “You looked mad in the club.”

“I wasn’t,” He snaps, chuckling dryly. He’s still lying.

“You weren’t mad that I danced with him?” You test, “Not mad about his hands on me?”

Carlos rolls his eyes, “Not at all hermosa. Why would I be when you came home with me?” 

There’s something unsettling that sits in the air, it makes you uncomfortable. It makes you hate yourself more for being there in that moment. He was right, even after all the moments with Lance, you still chose to go home with Carlos. You chose to go home with the man who’d been ignoring you for the last three days, and it’s fucking laughable. You came home with the man who was off with some other girl while you sat at home waiting, wondering when he would call. 

You huff, turning back around and picking up your shoes. You hear Carlos sigh behind you, hear his footsteps as he comes over and spins you around. You refuse to look up at him, to look into his big brown eyes. You didn’t want to be convinced to stay.

“I shouldn’t have come, this was so fucking stupid of me.” 

“Don’t say that hermosa,” He coos, hand returning to cup your cheek. On any normal day, you would’ve let him. You would’ve melted straight into his touch. But the images of him and some girl appear in your head, and it’s enough to push his touch away.

You should’ve put your heels on. You should’ve booked your uber and got the hell out of there. There’s only one way this ends, with more arguing until he convinces you to stay. And you were determined to change it. 

“I saw the pictures of you and that girl,” You say bitterly, slipping on your shoes.

You see a flicker of emotion flash on Carlos’s face, but it goes as quickly as it comes and you aren’t sure what it could’ve been. Guilt? Fear? You would never know. Now he looks at you, arms crossed over his chest as he scoffs. 

“Those are old.” 

“You don’t even know what photos I’m talking about.” 

“It doesn’t matter Y/n, they’re old. I haven’t been with anyone, it’s only you.” 

He’s lying. You know he’s fucking lying. You mutter an un-fucking-believable under your breath as you gather your belongings and walk out of his room. 

Carlos is quick to react to you whipping past him, feet moving quickly and hand reaching out to pull you back before you can walk out. 

“Where are you going?” He asks, “It’s nearly two in the morning, just stay and I’ll drive you in the morning.”

“Where I’m going is none of your business. I’d rather walk in the cold than to spend another second here.” 

He scoffs, letting your arm go. “Are you gonna find Lance?” You don’t respond, typing away on your phone as you look for Tes’ number. Carlos yanks your phone from your hand, “He won’t do anything for you, Mr Vanilla. He won’t be able to please you, to fuck you the way I can you know.”

It’s your turn to laugh. You swipe your phone back, slipping it in your purse. “Well maybe I oughta find out for myself. Maybe I want a little vanilla.” 

His eyes go dark. In any other circumstance, you might’ve cowered away. You would’ve been apologizing, on your knees, begging for forgiveness in more ways than one. But instead you felt empowered, like you had the upper hand. And you never had the upper hand in this relationship.

“You wouldn’t be happy.” He counters.

“I’m not happy now!” You shriek, “This? This back and forth, the fighting, the uncalled for jealousy, none of it makes me happy!”

“Uncalled for jealousy?! I see you fucking Lance Stroll on the dance floor in front of all our friends and my jealousy is uncalled for?!”

“Carlos, we’re not fucking dating!” You screech, throat raw and face hot “You’ve always made that perfectly fucking clear. I’m not your girlfriend and you’re not my boyfriend. So yes, uncalled for is the phrase I’d use.”

“Then your jealousy is uncalled for too. We’re not dating, as you said, so why does it matter if I was with another girl?”

“Because I was never with another guy Carlos! Because when I said it’s only you, I meant that it’s only you!” 

“Then what was that with Lance then?!” Carlos grimaces.

“What about it Carlos?!”

Both your chests were heaving, both of you angry at the other. The room stinks of unresolved tension, reeks of lies. The lack of clarity between the two of you, of what the two of you were, is finally culminating. You can hear Tes in the back of your head, her warnings of your situationship blowing up in your face. 

You were frustrated, both with yourself and with Carlos. You look at him and all you see is red.  

“You don’t like his hands on me? Does it bother you that I let him touch me, hold me. Does the idea that maybe I liked it just a little bit, make you fucking sick?” There’s a sinister smile on your face, knowing damn well what buttons you were pushing. “How do you think I feel?”

“I wasn’t with that girl y/n!”

“You were wearing the scarf I got you for Christmas in the photo, bastardo.” You snap. “I’m not fucking stupid.” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. You’re fucking delusional.” Carlos begins to walk away from you. This time, you grab his arm and yank him back. 

“I’m not fucking delusional. I know what I saw.” You seeth, “So you don’t get to be mad at me. You don’t get to call me delusional or make me feel crazy. You don’t get to make me feel guilty about having fun with a guy who was nice to me, while you were off playing in a Hallmark movie with some girl.” 

The reality of your situation hits you like a truck. There isn’t a drop of remorse on his face, not a hint of sorrow for his actions. It shatters your heart into little tiny pieces, breaks it until it is irreparable. Tears begin to cloud your vision, and you do everything you can not to let them fall in front of him. But you fail to do so. 

“God I am always at your beck and call, always willing and able for you even if you won’t do it for me. I sat around and waited for you for three days, come to find out you were fucking around with some girl.” You laugh humorlessly, taking a step back as you swipe your hand over your cheek to wipe away the tracks of wetness on your skin. “And yet I’m here with you. I still chose to come home with you.”

He doesn’t say anything. No explanation, nothing to prove those pictures meant nothing. Instead he stands there, frozen in place and face expressionless. 

“Y/n-”

“What are we doing here Carlos? Really, what do you want out of this? Because I want more, but it doesn’t seem like you do too.” You sniffle, looking away from him. “I don’t know why I’m fighting so hard for a place in your life, I don’t know why I’m still here.” 

And this is when you crumble into your own sadness. This is the part of the cycle that you allow yourself to be weak before him after he’s taken yet another piece of you. This is the part that hurts the most. 

“I’m sorry I…” He sighs, scratching the back of his neck. “Listen… it's late, we’ve had a little too much to drink. Just stay tonight. Then in the morning, we’ll talk. We can talk about a relationship, about whatever you want. Just please stay tonight.” 

Empty promises, one that you’ll add to a list of ones he’s given before. You were so tired, so defeated, and you know that spending the night never ends well. You know that in the morning he’ll make you believe that everything is okay between the two of you, make you believe that he wants more.

“I don’t think it’s smart that I do,” You manage to say, tears still falling from your face. 

“Maybe… but when have we ever been known to be smart?” 

You should’ve changed the ending. You could’ve changed the ending. You would’ve changed the ending.

But then he holds your face, swipes the tears away with the pad of his thumb. He presses a soft kiss on your cheek, then your jaw, then your neck and suddenly all logic flies out the window. You melt into his gentle touch, allowing him to hold you and press gentle kisses on your skin. You feel him kiss along your neck and down to your shoulder, leaving a trail of misery you’d have to deal with in the morning.

“I’m so sorry, Y/n.” Carlos mumbles against your skin, “I don’t like to see you cry.”

You lean into his touch. “You make me this way.” 

“No es mi intención. Lo siento bebe.” I don't mean to. I'm sorry baby.

His voice is soft, gentle. It’s reminiscent of the Carlos you met once upon a time.

“Stay tonight, okay?” He whispers, lips hot as he presses it gently against your skin. 

“Okay,” You sigh, “I’ll stay.” 

Carlos looks at you, a soft smile on his face. He leans in to give you a quick kiss, before moving behind you to grab a shirt from his dresser. You pull the dress off your body, taking the green long sleeve from Carlos to slip on. He undresses quickly, leaving him in black briefs before he’s climbing into bed and opening up the covers for you to join him. 

He pulls you to him when you lie down, hands resting comfortably on the curve of your ass when you sling your leg over his waist. You nuzzle into him, inhaling deeply as you let his scent drown out the voice in your head cursing you out. 

Maybe you do deserve more. More than the hot and cold, the crying yourself to sleep, the need to reassure yourself by going through his phone when he’s fast asleep next to you. Maybe you do. 

But foolishly, you choose to stay. You let the five minutes of his goodness overshadow all the heartache. You let his embrace give you a false sense of security, let it convince you that everything is okay. 

You aren’t ready to let go. Not yet anyways. 

note: well. i've wanted to write toxic!carlos for a while, so here we are. and you can all thank the ferrari antis (specifically q) for lance being here. anyways, hope u liked (?) it. and as always, feedback is greatly appreciated.

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𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘢𝘨𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵 ? | dm me if you want to be taken off!