#like if someone's keeping dead cats in their freezer i feel like there are more constructive ways of dealing with that than 'lol' or

[skrunksthatwunk]

hey real quick bc i haven't seen anyone really talk about it; fuck Hoarders. what a disgusting fucking show. like i know a lotta content boils down to "let's gawk at mentally ill or poor or whatever ppl" but this one specifically really peels my paint. it's sickening. let's spend an hour walking around someone's house and going "wow!! look how fucked this is!!! i can't believe you live like this (despite having done like 13 seasons of this)!!!! you really need to get your act together, buster!" and then interviewing the family to get sound bites demonstrating how much of an Unreasonable Burden the subject is and (without actually helping any of the mental health issues that may lead someone to hoard) roll their eyes at them when they are upset at someone taking and trashing/destroying their precious belongings (or are made to do it themselves). and then half the time in the where are they now segment it's like "yeah they relapsed lol idk ¯\_(ツ)_/¯" like??? no shit dumbass.

i don't care how strange their homes or habits are. these people are deserving of compassion and real, honest help. they don't need people to marvel at how Kooky Wacky Bonkers™ they are, and they don't need people to hurt them just because they don't understand what they see in their possessions or are embarrassed by knowing them or whatever.

we don't need another voyeuristic savior-complex charade where the condition for The Most Half-Assed Help You've Ever Seen is being publicly humiliated and having to destroy things that mean a lot to you. what the fuck.

[londonalozzy]

Stop Pretending (TFATWS)

Fandom: Marvel

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Genre: Romance, Angst

Summary: The reader thinks she's doing a stellar job of keeping her feelings for a certain soldier buried deep inside. Turns out, all it takes is an observant new friend to begin the unraveling of her most precious secret (Spoilers for TFATWS)

Masterlist

Word: Pretence

Definition: A way of acting that is intended to deceive people.

Example: Saying that he's just a friend when he's really the love of your life.

Your POV

Being caught in the midst of war is something that I, (Y/N) (Y/L/N)  know all too well. As a war vet, former shield agent, and now Avenger I'm used to being centered amongst conflict. When the fight begins within me though, a battle between what I want and what I think is right, how will I react? Will I listen to my heart, my head, or will the winner be chosen for me?

Delacroix, Louisiana.....

I love my sleep, always have, always will. It's not necessarily the comfort of the bed, the quiet or even the rest. It's the fact that I'm at peace when I sleep. My life has a tendency to fall apart when I'm awake, so anything that will put that off for as long as possible I savor.

I wish it were the same for a certain super soldier in my life. I look forward to going to bed, everything calms down then, and for most people it's the same. For Bucky however, it's when everything starts, the nightmares, the terrors, the seemingly unending darkness. If only I could take his pain away like he has with mine.

For the last few weeks, my life had, for want of a better word, been hectic. Hectic to say the least.

After the eventual defeat of Thanos and the loses we endured as a result, I thought naively that life might calm down a bit, that I'd have time to breathe, to live. How wrong I was.

It all began with John Walker being announced to the world as the new Captain America.

I was baking cookies with Morgan in the Stark family kitchen when it came over the radio. As that latest turn of events sunk in, my first thoughts were of Bucky, what that would do to him. Not even an hour later I had said my goodbyes and was on my way to help him get the shield back.

Since then even more had happened. We'd regrouped with Sam, busted Zemo out of prison which in turn ruffled the feathers of Ayo and the Dora Milaje. We came face to face with Morgenthou and the Flag Smashers, and finally witnessed the man who thought he could even compete with Steve, make himself judge, jury and most significantly executioner.

After that went around the world we knew we had to end it sooner rather than later. It couldn't get much worse than Captain America becoming a murderer. We got the shield back, which was a fight all in itself. Handed Zemo over to Ayo, to try and recompense for the distrust we'd instilled in the people who'd helped us so much. Then we travelled to stay with Sam and his family in Louisiana whilst we waited for Karli's next move.

This is where we found ourselves now, in the eye of it, the calm before the storm.

Waking up in the Wilson households guest room, I was greeted to the golden hue of the rising sun penetrating through the single glaze windows, and the melodic sounds of gulls on the hunt for their morning meal down by the docks.

Actually, no that's not right. What I could hear was most certainly not birds, and it was definitely not melodic. What were those boys doing?

Quickly and quietly I threw on the first clothes I could get my hands on and made my way downstairs towards the noise. What caught my attention when I discovered the source, was not the two youngest Wilson boys playing with our newly reacquired shield in the living room, but the super solider who was blissfully ignorant to it all, sleeping peacefully on the couch in front of them. I don't think I'd ever been so happy.

"Right you two, if you're determined to play Avengers all morning then I suggest you re-assemble in the back yard. You're gonna wake Bucky up," I whispered out in one breath, stepping between the boys, then placing my hands on their backs and tip toeing them towards the door.

"So what if we wake him up? It's gone 10am," Cass questioned in protest, pulling on his sneakers and jacket.

"Exactly! Which is why if you do as I say, I will make you the biggest plate of waffles for breakfast that you've ever seen."

The boys eyes lit up. "Can we have ice cream with it? Mum never lets us have ice cream for breakfast, and I'm sure there's a tub of Stark raving hazelnuts in the freezer," AJ clapped in muted excitement. "Oh, for God's sake.....Yes. You can have whatever you want if you get out of this house now and keep the noise down."

Once the boys were outside, I made my way over to the kitchen, stopping on the way to lean over my favourite senior citizen and make sure that he was still peaceful in his slumber. He'd never looked so relaxed, so at ease. It was a brand new Bucky I'd never seen before, a Bucky that had my heart pounding for him even more than it normally did. Not that he knew any of that.

Half an hour later and up to my elbows in waffle mix, I failed to notice my new friend and host Sarah making her way to my side at the counter, the huge smile on my face not going unnoticed. "What's got you grinning like the Cheshire cat, like I need to ask?"

"Bucky's sleeping. Isn't it amazing?" I spoke softly, bouncing up and down on my feet as I did so.

"And why is that?" She couldn't looked more confused if she tried.

"In all the years I've known him, I don't think I've ever woken up before he has. If his nightmares don't keep him awake all night, they normally have him up before the crack of dawn. I don't think I've ever seen him so still."

"Good answer," Sarah nodded in a hush, understanding why this meant so much to me, but not done yet with her morning interrogations, "Now on to my next question......"

"I'm already not liking the sound of this."

"Sleeping Beauty over there follows you around like a little puppy dog. He hangs on your every word, looks at you like you hung the stars or something. It's pretty obvious how crazy he is about you, so when are you gonna stop pretending that you're not head over heels in love with him?"

"I don't know what you're talking about Wilson," I smiled forcefully, making out like the waffle maker deserved my attention way more than the conversation I was being made to have.

This was all Sam's doing, without a shadow of a doubt. He'd tried to have this conversation with me on multiple occasions and I shut him down every time. He obviously hadn't given up like I thought he did, and decided to draft in his sister. He is seriously gonna regret it when I find him.

"Sure you know what I'm talking about. Sam sees it, I don't even know you that well and I see it. The only reason Bucky doesn't, is because he doesn't believe he could ever be that lucky. You're a smitten kitten." These Wilson's are all as annoying as each other.

Knowing I wasn't getting out of this one, I grabbed Sarah by the arm and pulled her right into the corner of the room, trying my best to keep this convo as private as possible. "Look, I'm not pretending.....I'm ignoring. There's a difference."

"Care to explain what that difference is?" Sarah spoke softly, but with a sarcastic air.

Turning to look over my shoulder at the subject of our conversation, making sure he was still safely in the land of nod, I decided to just be honest. Sarah was much like her brother. Once she wanted to get to the bottom of something she wasn't about to give up.

"I love Bucky, more than I've ever loved anyone...and that terrifies me," the rawness of finally being honest making my voice shake, and tears come to my eyes. "Nat was like my sister, and she's dead. Tony was the closest I've ever gotten to having a Dad...and he's dead too. Then there's Steve, Vision, God knows where Wanda is....Everyone I love, either leaves or dies. If I admit my feelings for Buck then I face the risk of losing him too."

"Do you have any idea how crazy you sound right now? He's not going to die because you love him (Y/N)."

Silent tears were falling now. I was revealing my deepest fears to a woman I'd only known a few days, and I'm not underplaying it when I say it was like a colossal weight off my chest, a release I didn't know I needed. "Believe me...I know, but I can't take that risk. I can't lose anyone else, especially not him."

"Let's just say for a second that you're right, that there is some higher power somewhere, set on destroying everyone you love. Do you really think ignoring your feelings is going to make them disappear?" I didn't know what to say to that. "Natasha and Stark died so that everyone could continue living, and (Y/N) you're not living as long as you keep this to yourself. They wouldn't want that for you."

"But what if I lose him?" I whispered with a choked sigh.

"Then at least he'll die knowing how you felt about him. After everything he's been through don't you think he deserves to know there's someone out there who loves him like you do?"

"Of course..."

Sarah's lips pulled upwards in a satisfied smirk, wrapping her arm around my shoulder and giving it a comforting squeeze, "then you owe it to yourself, and to him, to tell him the truth."

"Why do all you Wilson's have to be so clever?" I voiced in mock irritation, pushing her away from me and acting like I was annoyed she had gotten one up on me.

"I don't know," she thought aloud and with a cheeky grin, grabbing a plate to start piling on the long forgotten waffles, "I think it might be the sea air or something."

"Nah, it's in the genes," I chuckled quietly, grabbing my jacket and deciding it was time to get this conversation wrapped up. "I'll go find Sam and the boys for breakfast. Clear my head a little bit."

"You promise you're gonna tell him?" Sarah stopped me as I went to push the door open.

"I'll think about it."

3rd person POV

Once (Y/N) was out of ear shot, Sarah couldn't help but start jumping up and down in excitement, clapping her hands loudly as she did so. That went even better than she thought it would, and she was so proud of herself. Sarah Wilson could now add matchmaker to her resume.

"Coast is clear Barnes. You can open your eyes now."

(Y/N) had no idea what she had metaphorically walked into just minutes earlier, entering that very revealing conversation with her overly inquisitive host.

What drew Sarah to come down that morning was the sounds of both the front porch door opening and the smell of homemade waffles wafting up the stairs. As she entered the kitchen she was met with two sights. One being (Y/N), facing the counter and looking very smiley, the other being a wide awake super soldier who was just laying on the couch and staring at her, the sole object of his affection. Sarah could work with this.

Every time (Y/N) turned back in his direction, Bucky would close his eyes and pretend to be asleep again. He had never slept so soundly, so peacefully, thoughts of (Y/N) and his new friends filling his nightmare free dreams.

He'd initially woken to (Y/N) ushering the boys outside because she was afraid they would wake him up. He didn't want to disappoint her by proving her right. Besides, he liked just watching her move around the kitchen, completely unaware he was observing her the whole time. He had no idea about the conversation that was just about to happen.

After (Y/N) had left and Sarah had confirmed so, Bucky sat himself up, his body shaking with adrenaline and a look of complete shock fixed on his face. Had he definitely woken up, or had the whole thing been a part of his dream? Did (Y/N) seriously just admit that she was in love with him?

Bucky didn't know how to react, didn't know what to say as he looked up at a smug Sarah from his spot. All he'd ever wanted was for (Y/N) to feel the same way about him as he did about her. Now he knew that she did.

"You're welcome by the way."

[aghostpost]

The Hard-J (Victor Creed x Reader)

A/N: I know I said it would be ready by the weekend but... it wasn’t! Excuses only work for those that make them, so I won’t bother lmao~ This one is for @queengiuliettafirstlady and everyone else that loves a little Victor Creed intensity. ♥

“Can we not do this today, please?”

“What the hell was that about?” He slammed the door after him as I went to my kitchen to put groceries away. 

“He saw me walking back from the store, that’s it.”

“That’s it, huh? What did I say about hangin’ out with him?”

“We weren’t hanging out! I told you, he saw me walking and he was helping me carry a few things. That. Is it.”

“You see how he talks to me? How he’s always talked to me-“

“-I see two brothers who, for whatever reason, can’t seem to hack it.”

“We aren’t brothers.”

I rolled my eyes, shoving my peanut butter and fudge swirl ice cream into the freezer. “Brothers in arms.”

“Because there’s no damn respect! Always lookin’ down at me like he’s some kinda fuckin’ superior.”

“Vic…”

“I don’t want you around him. You hear me?”

I let out an exasperated sigh as I rolled my eyes. “It’s too hot to argue about this shit.”

“You’re the one arguing instead of just agreeing, Y/N.”

“Your relationship with Logan is just that: yours. I have no problem with the guy.”

“If I see you two together again-“

“- Do not end that sentence with a threat, Victor-“

“- I’ll do you one better and end it with a guaran-fucking-tee!”

“We live in the same city, I’m bound to run into him sometimes!”

“Y/N look at me… Hey!” He shouted, making me jump out of my skin as I gave him my undivided attention. Clearly he was serious, which he tended to be. But this time, more serious than normal.

He was always so very dead serious whenever we talked about Logan.

“I don’t care if you’re next door neighbors with him. If I see you two with each other again, it will not end well.”

“For him? Or for me?”

“Both o’ you.”

I stared him down and watched him do the same, his face cold hard steel, not even a muscle flexing as he spoke to me. “What the hell happened between you two, anyway?” I asked. “What did he do that’s so damn bad you’re forbidding me to even say hi? He kill your cat or somethin’?”

He smirked and let out a huff of a chuckle, his left fang peeking from behind his lips. “You think I’m kiddin’?”

I rolled my eyes and pushed him away from me to continue putting the food away. “Yeah, sure. Whatever. I’ll stay away from him, Victor. Whatever the hell makes-” I couldn’t finish my sentence before I heard the loud crash of glass breaking. I whipped around and saw a wet puddle dripping on my wall, the floor beneath it decorated with broken glass and what was a very nice bouquet of assorted flowers. “Are you shitting me?!”

“Oh, I got your attention now?”

“You had it! You’re throwing a temper tantrum, breaking my shit, all because you’re jealous of someone I’m not even interested in?”

“Jealous?” he questioned as he slowly stalked towards me, like a predator carefully eyeing its prey. I was no stranger to Victor's temper; under the right circumstances, he could go from settled to up in flames with the snap of a finger. Maybe it’s because he was never really at ease, always ready to pounce at any moment’s notice if necessary. Yeah, I know he has little patience and is kinda trigger happy to get into a fight, his own source of entertainment. But that was with other people, strangers. With me, he exercised a lot more restraint. We’d have arguments, he’d yell, maybe hurt a wall and then storm off.

But whenever Logan was involved, it was a different story...

“You need to relax,” I warned as I slowly backed away from him, ready to defend myself if necessary, even if I knew it was a losing battle. 

“Did you just say I was jealous of him?”

“Are you?”

“What reason do I have to be jealous?”

“You tell me. What is it, Vic? You think I’m gonna run off with him into the sunset? You come over here one day to see me, all my shit is packed up and I leave a note behind? I doubt he’d throw my shit around like you just did.”

“I bought you those damn flowers,” he growled.

“You gonna buy the replacements too?” I asked playfully, trying to diffuse the tension but failing. It was painfully obvious, literally, he wasn’t in the mood to play when I felt his fist grip me like a boa constrictor. He forced my head against the kitchen cabinet behind me and got close to my face. If he moved any closer he’d be able to taste the chive cream cheese bagel I had on the way over here. 

“Now that all depends…”

“Victor, let go of me. Now.”

“What’s the matter, hm? I thought you liked it rough?” he spoke with a tone of warning before a lecherous grin spread across his face. I’d be lying if I said it didn’t release a flutter deep in my belly, my incessant desire for him threatening to surface. It was embarrassing and admittedly disgusting to me, how even in moments as such, there was always going to be some shred of me that could neither ignore nor deny my constant thirst for him to satisfy me in ways only Victor knew how.

“You’ve made your point.” I tried to remain calm while fighting for air. I was willing to bet money that he could feel my pulse quickening beneath his grip. If even one of his claws came out I’d be bleeding out all over the linoleum.

“Have I?”

“You have five seconds to get the fuck off of me... or I walk.” He stared me in the eye only a few seconds longer before relinquishing his grip. If there was anything I caught on to in the seven months we’ve been seeing each other, if that’s even what you wanna call him dropping by for food, sex and quality conversation with a solid night’s rest, it’s that he actually greatly enjoyed having me in his life. He would never admit it, of course, being the poster boy for hypermasculinity; no way he’d display the level of emotion required to confess he liked me. But I picked up on it in subtle ways he probably doesn’t even notice. The way he throws his arm over me in his sleep, subconsciously keeping me in place with him. The way he came over and pretended it was just for sex, when we wouldn’t wind up having sex at all. The flowers he bought me, before throwing them to the wall in a rage. Most importantly, the way he wouldn’t stay gone long after a fight and would come back with his tail tucked in ready to apologize, afraid that would be the fight that finally scared me off and into the arms of someone else. I wasn’t using that to my advantage here, but I was letting him know what we both knew but never spoke of:

He wanted me around. He liked me.

I took a moment to allow oxygen to return to my lungs before I addressed him. “I pushed a button o’ yours with that little J-word?”

“What on Earth gave you that idea?” he asked sarcastically.

I nodded. “Fine. Noted. But I promise you, next time you use your words, because if you ever think about putting your hands on me again-”

“-Now you’re ending sentences with threats?”

“Guarantees, right?” I stalked to the corner of the kitchen and grabbed the broom that was wedged between the wall and my fridge then slammed it into his chest. “Dust pan behind the fridge,” was all I said before making my way to the bedroom.

“We’re not done-”

“-I am.” The moment I turned the corner out of the kitchen he was following me, the broom loudly clapping against the kitchen floor. The same hand that was just wrapped tightly around my throat was now finding its way around my waist along with his other one, pressing me to the wall. “Victor-“

“-I’ll getcha new flowers.”

“Fuck the flowers and fuck you.” He wasn’t hearing any of it. He grabbed my wrists and began making his way to the couch, my legs clumsily bumping into any and everything I walked towards. 

“I’m not gonna pour my heart out an’ tell you all the fucked up things about me, if that’s what you’re waitin’ for me to do.”

“Mutant in human world. It’s not hard to figure out.”

“And I’m not tellin’ you the textbook of reasons I’m not holdin’ hands with him either.”

“And I’m not agreeing to stay away from him for your reasons and personal grudges unknown.”

“So maybe I didn’t make myself as clear as I thought.” Before I was aware the back of my legs bumped into the arm of my couch. I was desperate to create some sort of distance between us, so I fell backwards and wiggled away to the far opposite end of the couch. He stood at my feet and without breaking eye contact, lifted the loose black henley from his chest. He was possibly the only person I knew that could wear black and long sleeves in the peak of a summer in the city without breaking a sweat. But now wasn’t the time to be impressed by minor things.

“It’s too hot for this, too.”

“You tellin’ me no?”

“Yes!”

“Why?” he asked as he continued advancing in my direction, fumbling with the belt on his jeans as he kicked his shoes off.

“Because I don’t feel like it. You’re not about to makeup sex your way out of putting your hands on me, dick.”

He shrugged to himself. “You never turned it down before.”

“Well, you know what they say the definition of insanity is, right…”

“Doin’ the same shit, expecting different results.”

“And I want different results, Victor.”

“Fine. So let’s try somethin’ different.” Without a word or warning he bent down and scooped me up, a hand firmly resting under each of my thighs, my legs snaked around his waist. I thought he was headed towards the bedroom, but he took a surprising left turn to the apartment balcony, gripping me tightly before using a hand to open the sliding glass door. The humidity instantly smothered me, my glasses fogging from the shock of being exposed to the summer heat after leaving my air conditioned living room. He sat in one of the wicker seats of my patio set and placed me in his lap, lifting my sundress so I could straddle him free of obstruction. He placed me directly onto his cock and was not gentle about it; my head instantly fell back as a rush of air escaped my chest, my hands finding his neck. 

“Fuck,” I whispered.

“Exactly.”

“Shut the hell up.” There was no time for playful banter. The sun had only just started to set, meaning there was still plenty daylight for us to be seen; this had to be quick. And quiet. Quiet would be the hard part without a doubt. With his help, I lifted my body up and down, his fingertips digging into my hips as he held tightly to my waist. “Holy shit, Vic.”

“Still think I’m jealous?”

I grinned to myself. “I dunno; you’re fuckin’ me like you got somethin’ to prove,” I teased. Clearly there was jealousy but I knew better than to answer him with a yes. But if jealousy is this good a sexual motivator, I’d be happy with this silver lining to our fight. He lifted my dress up more, enough for him to expose my tits and seize my right one with his mouth. My head fell back, a cry escaping me when I felt the sharp stab of his teeth on the mound of flesh. “Fuck!” He growled, his mouth vibrating slightly around my nipple. 

“Ya still gonna run away and leave a note?” he asked, the heat from his mouth making toes curl.

“Never.” Unless he pushed me to it, of course. 

I felt the pads of his fingertips press my scalp, my hair tightly intertwined in his digits as he pulled my head back and forced me to make eye contact. “Don’t threaten to walk again.”

I rolled my eyes. “Or else?” I mocked.

He shook his head, his pelvis ceasing, the rapid rise and fall of our chests the only movement remaining between us. “No. Just don’t.”

I stared at him a moment longer and simply nodded before standing and turning around, lifting my dress over my head, then taking the rusty balcony rail in my hands to steady myself. I turned to look at him; to my surprise he was already stroking himself in the absence of something else warm wrapped around his cock. “Whatcha waitin’ for?”

“Can’t enjoy the view?”

“Enjoy it any longer and I’m gonna melt.”

“Someone other than me hungry for it?” he said with a hard slap to my right cheek before roughly re-entering from behind, making me jerk forward into the hot metal rail. I grunted at the pain in effort not to be too loud and settled comfortably on him, my body fitting him like a glove. He was in no way gentle as he thrust himself in and out of me, primal grunts escaping his chest every time his hips rammed into my ass. My tits would surely be bruised the way I was uncomfortably pressed into the railing. I stared at the rusted and flaking metal coating of the bars beneath my arms and fought to keep my legs from collapsing beneath me, every bone in my limbs turning to apple sauce, my muscles sore and aching. If only this kind of workout kept me in shape and was doctor recommended. And quiet as I was, there was nothing I could do to muffle the loud smack that echoed in the air when Victor got slap happy, or the sound that came from my mouth as a result. The funny thing was, the more I tried to shush him, the more intensely he fucked me, and the more sound we both ended up making. 

“Sss, holy fuck! Fuck fuck fuck, Vic! Shit!” I cried out, the restraint I had for my volume loosening. On a slower day I would have had a bit more self control, but I never lasted long, or quietly, when he was in a more animalistic mood.

“Mm, that’s right,” he grunted, digging his fingers into my hip bones. “Lemme have it, baby.” And before I knew it I did exactly that. My legs gave out beneath me and I fell to my knees, failing to hold myself up on the balcony railing any longer as I came. My moans were beyond stifling, and I felt nothing else, not even the pools of sweat pouring out of me. For just a moment I’d fallen into a deep well of ecstasy, my head throbbing from the mix of summer heat and pleasure, before I regained some composure to return the favor. 

I grabbed the thin cushion from my patio chair and placed it at his feet and knelt before him, taking him into my mouth as deep as I could. As hungrily as I could. Without hesitation his hands flew to my head, cradling the back of my skull and maneuvering me to a pace of his pleasure. “Atta girl,” he encouraged. He knew I was a sucker for praise, and after being a complete asshole I was expecting him to lay it on with the ass kissing for the rest of the evening. Now he had me working like I was the jealous one, when really I was only in competition with myself; I wanted to see if I could make him cum quicker than any of the other times I did this. I worked my head in a swivel and both of my hands in opposing twisting motion, pulling him into me as far as I could without biting off more than I could chew. It was useless, however, since Victor was determined to push my head down way past my limits. His hips undulated as he thrust his dick deeper and deeper into my throat. He’d momentarily pause and hold his place before pulling out to allow me to draw air, all before repeating the process. “Look at me,” he demanded, which was all he needed to say for me to know what time it was. I stared upwards at him with his cock still in my mouth, my eyes glassy with tears, and he pushed himself deep into my throat one final time and pumped the tip of his dick at the back of my throat. He held eye contact for as long as he could before his head fell backwards, eyes slamming shut as I felt the muscles of his thighs tighten. He grunted a low, beastlike growl before I felt him release all he had to offer in my throat, the sensation slightly tickling. I slowly jerked his dick off for good measure to ensure I got him for every drop before swallowing the thick, sticky fluid, swirling my tongue around his tip before he removed himself from my mouth. 

“Ah, Jesus fuck,” he sighed, his chest rising and falling as he tried to recover.

“I think I missed that Sunday school lesson.” He rolled his eyes and looked down at me, head still resting in his lap, before rising and extending a hand. I grabbed and he pulled me up, coming face to face with him and the wild grin plastered on his face. “Back inside before my ass gets covered in bug bites.”

“I could scratch it for ya,” he offered, running a claw harmlessly up my spine. I shivered and pushed away from him before round two threatened to begin, sliding the balcony door open, relieved once the ice cold air conditioning hit my chest.

“No thanks. But you absolutely can buy me another bouquet of flowers. And a vase, while you’re at it.”

[lovely-necromancy]

A Cure for Insomnia CH 1.

This is a reader insert I originally started posting on AO3. I’m cross posting here because I know some of the fandom still lives here.

Quick Disclaimer:

This is a fic I'm writing for my own comfort.

I was inspired by RaeBees (you can check out their works over on Quotev and AO3), and how they characterize the "proxies". Having always seen the characters different than most of the fandom I've interacted with I never really shared my thoughts until now. This work is only placed in the Creepypasta tag so it reaches its demographic. However, I am fully aware of the fact that no main character is considered a Pasta.

It may also appear to lean more Toby X Protag in the beginning but end goal is protag with all three, and Brian and Tim already in a relationship. How I picture it now is a slowburn but Toby and Protag will be in a friends with benefits relationship before either has any feelings, so I think that counts. Some may be confused by the asexual protag tag but it'll be explained in story, as an Ace myself I get frustrated with media that only show one version and say it goes for us all. That being said I don't represent the whole Ace community but I hope to provide a bit more representation for some others out there.

Protag will be depicted as agender, and will have a few tics that stem from their Autism. Again I don't speak for any others with Autism but I hope to provide some representation for those in similar positions.

Tags will be updated as the story progresses. Canon-Typical violence and mental health issues are to be expected if you feel uncomfortable with those aspects I advise you to not engage. This story will also have a lot of NSFW themes and scenes so I highly discourage anyone under the age of 18 from viewing this work. You will get warnings on chapters with NSFW and I will make it skippable as well.

I'm also very nitpicky and gave the main characters birthdays just because it irritates me when it gets mentioned once and you have to do the math or imagine your own conversation when a birthday was too close to a character's.

Tim January 1st, home state Alabama

Toby April 28th, home state Virginia (saw this years ago no clue if it's accurate)

Protag May 13th, home state Virginia

Brian May 23rd, home state Alabama

Connor the service dog July 18th, home state Kentucky

I've referred to Protag as Protag here but in story they're referred to as YN.

Everything felt impossibly dull; your senses, the dark room you're currently in, the noise coming from the fan just to the left of the bed on which you laid. Turning to the window beside your head you stare out into that weird midnight summer sky. More of a gray than a true dark blue night, cast in an orange glow that made the night seem closer to day than it truly was. While the time was just half past twelve, you felt it may have been more accurate to say it was closer to four in the morning.

You're exhausted but that true sort of exhaustion where whatever energy you have left buzzes all around. It consumes your entire being, dances between being deafeningly loud in your ears to giving you twitches in your legs. You'd laid down hours ago thinking you'd be tired enough to sleep once your tics started to spasm in closer intervals, but to no avail were you able to rest. That buzzing preventing you from dreamland. Maybe the hum of your body was right, you didn't really need to sleep, you just wanted it to feel normal.

Knowing the battle had already been lost you push yourself off the bed and grab a pair of shorts off the floor. Slipping them on you contemplate your options for the night. Going into town was out since it was Sunday...well Monday now, but there would be nothing but bars open and you were never one for drinking. And as fun as a drive sounds right now, you feel the buzzing in your bones grow stronger, you need to move. A late night hike should keep you occupied, with it being so quiet and the middle of the night you wouldn't even have to take your headphones to cancel out the sounds of other people, you aren't likely to run into many people tonight.

Deciding on a hike you grab a mask and car keys and make your way to your yellow Kia Soul. A going away present from your parents that they gave you the moment you got your driver's license after your 24th birthday. Having anxiety throughout your life you'd never been in the head space to start driving till later on, and while you still don't enjoy driving you are pretty good at it even with your “late” start. Surfing through radio stations as you let the car warm up you find your latest obsession, it's a conspiracy theory podcast that someone in Kepler managed to blast through the limited air ways of the town. Impressive considering Kepler was in a radio quiet zone and even cell phones couldn't work in the small town, luckily you lived just outside of the zone so you could send texts and call your parents every weekend.

It seemed today's episode was a rerun, Mothman: Murderer, Man, or Myth. It was actually one of your favorites, the paranormal stories tended to be more entertaining than hearing about how a man could murder sixteen people while working as a cop ruining evidence to lead the others off his trail. Humans could be more vial and cruel than any little gray alien from the future or tall Fresno Nightcrawler could ever be. And they weren't as entertaining to hear about, nor were their exploits as impressive. You could always see patterns, either connecting clues first or finding connections no one else saw, it was never hard to tell where a certain case would lead so you'd always end up disappointed in humanity when they overlooked such obvious clues. Though that often led you down a path of deep diving for information to see just how obvious it was, more often than not you'd find that the most logical conclusion was shady public officers. After investigating so many cold cases you're sure if you're ever in trouble you'll never involve the police, in the end they'd probably just ignore you and rule your case closed if anything ever did happen to you.

'I'd haunt them if they did.' You decide and you shift gears and begin driving to the Monongahela National Forest, as the timeline of Mothman sightings and events play out before for your ears.

Instead of going through town and possibly loosing the signal of the show, you drive on the old dirt road that runs along the very edge of the town, partially covered in trees. This over grown road is the main reason Kepler doesn't see many visitors, the second someone makes their way onto it coming off the interstate they floor it until they see civilization. Over the few months you've been here you've nearly been run right off the road by spooked tourists, trying to escape whatever ghouls their wild imaginations created. The only real thing on this road was a mini mart gas station, and even though it was shady as hell the cashier didn't bug you too much when you came in in the dead of night. Plus they had a cat, how could you not stop in and say hi to little ole Magnolia?

Speaking of which you should probably get a drink for your hike, you could already feel your throat drying out. Turning into the parking lot you're happy to see no other cars around, putting your face mask on you make your way inside. As usual the store is dead at this time, and Ronnie is manning the desk. What's unusual is the man also behind the counter, he has dark brown hair that he's tied into a small and low ponytail, thick sideburns frame his face. You immediately take note of the slight imperfections of his face, most would see the slit in his eyebrow as following the current trend or even just a genetic thing, but you can see the slightly off color of a healed scar that starts just above his eyebrow and ends mid eyelid, he has a few smaller discolorations on his crooked nose, you'd guess he's had it broken at least twice.

Briefly taking a glance to his brown eyes before looking away, today is not an eye contact day. Nodding in their directions, the best acknowledgment you can give right now, you make your way to the freezers. From the freezer section you can hear Ronnie “explain” you.

“That's YN, a regular mainly at night though. A bit skittish and rarely ever says more than 'thanks have a nice day'” Even though she's whispering you can hear everything. Including the high octave her voice takes to mimic you, it feels more like mocking.

If being mocked hadn't already put you on edge the eyes boring into you have. The eyes may not be roaming over your body but the icky crawling of your skin sure makes it feel that way. The feeling of being put under a microscope has always made you sick, the stares, the leers and sneers, and the judgment just makes you want to implode on the spot. Cease existence, be swallowed into the abyss. You're about to set yourself into an anxiety attack with all these thoughts.

'Mask, mask, mask' you repeat over and over in your head, it's the only thing you can focus on. You are wearing a mask, there is one thing they can't perceive, the face is the most important for humans to perceive, your mask protects you.

Without looking you pull a water bottle from the cooler. You don't think you like this brand but the sports mouth makes up for it, and you can't focus enough to grab another. As the imaginary spiders crawl their way under your skin and your breath hitches you make your way over to the counter head down, never looking up at the employees beyond the counter. Your vision is blurring in time with the beating of your heart, you can't tell if it's due to nerves or from being up for five days in a row.

“Hey YN, how're you?” Ronnie asks, her tone is different from the past times you've been in. It's higher and has a lilt in it that you'd expect from a teasing friend. But Ronnie isn't a friend and has never spoken to you like this, you hate it. You nod to politely move on with the process, between the crawling of your skin and the buzzing underneath it you feel sick. And you're now very aware of the existence of your eyelids, you try to focus on ignoring that awareness. You need to move.

“Hmm, that's good. Anyway this is Tim! He's just started so go easy on him.” you hear the sound of a hand hitting fabric and assume she's patted Tim's shoulder as she introduced Tim to you. Why was she doing this, what purpose could introducing you two have? You nod again, was anyone going to ring you out?

“Hi, this all?” a deep voice asked, it isn't extremely deep more of a standard baritone that has a slight raspy quality, probably a reformed smoker. You don't smell cigarettes currently so he could've quit after years. Unfortunately despite your efforts to stave them off your blinking tics emerge. Making it difficult to keep your eyes open for longer than a nano second.

Startled and ticcing you look up and catch his eyes, you see pity in them, before casting your glance back to the counter. You can never tell what's worse people seeing you as weird or seeing you as something needing to be fixed. Nodding again, Tim tells you the total; a dollar fifty eight, and you hand him two dollars from your wallet.

Tim doesn't ask if you want the receipt or a bag, he prints out the receipt and hands you your change. The change goes immediately into the cat food fund for Magnolia. She got diagnosed with diabetes about a month ago and having worked in shelters and pet stores you know just how expensive her prescription food is. After folding the receipt into your wallet, Tim gently slides the water bottle over to you.

“Have a good night.” he says it so low and gentle, as if he thinks you'll shatter in front of him. As kind as the gesture seems, you aren't that fragile...or maybe you are if you have to keep repeating 'mask' over and over in your head to ground yourself. With a final nod you turn and make your way to the door, and just as you open it you hear Ronnie call out.

“Awwww, c'mon YN at least say 'Hi' to Tim.” You really don't like how she squeaked out 'hi'.

Taking a deep breath you prepare yourself, you'll show them both you can do this simple task. Even if you can't stop blinking long enough to see straight. Once you've steadied yourself you turn and look at Tim. He's sending you a look that says 'You don't have to' all that's missing is a slow head shake to complete his unease with this “peer pressure”.

But you can do this you can say 'Hi, Tim.' Two words super simple, nothing complex like 'Hi, Tim, nice to meet you.' and so much better than the option of your next meeting saying 'Hi, Tim. Sorry for spazzing out the other night.'. Yup you can do this just breathe, you open your mouth and...and you've forgotten what to say. Looking like a deer in headlights, well at least the tics stopped, you say the first thing that pops in.

“Mask.” You've said it loud and clear both cashiers heard you.

Tim stares with wide eyes and you see Ronnie failing to hide her laughter. Out of all the ways this could've gone this was probably the best outcome for her. The blinking has started up again, this time growing more frequent. You can't even hold your eyes open, to the two cashiers it must look like you're in pain or crying. And while you want to die of embarrassment, crying is a bit of an extreme for you.

So with red face and the inability to see you leave through the door, and try to make your way back to your car. Once in you lock the doors, switch the car on, and rest your head on the steering wheel. Out of every way this stop could've gone, being perceived by a new comer and Ronnie was not what you expected. While this hadn't been the worst five minutes or so of your life, it definitely would be another thing keeping you up at night for the next twenty years.

Calming down in the cool quiet dark of your car your slowly brought back to the world by the beginning of a new episode. This one talking about the Tailypo legend. A favorite story of yours from when you were a kid living on the coast of Virginia. So with yet another deep breath and the wave of nostalgia, you pull out of the parking lot and slowly coast down the old dirt road. Heading yet again for the Monongahela forest.

It's nearly two in the morning when you roll up to see an RV parked by the forgotten entrance of the park. It isn't surprising at all to find an RV out here since the Monongahela Forest is one of the most beautiful parks you've ever been to. You also don't think anything of them being parked by this unused entrance because you use it all the time since finding it accidentally. Figuring they just wanted to camp and be left to their own devices rather than use the RV sites and be bothered with other campers here for the summer.

Climbing out of your car you notice the RV isn't new by any means but it isn't a total rust bucket either, looks like it's been passed around throughout the years. There isn't anything to suggest it's been here a while, nothing left set up outside, must have just gotten into town then. You do happen to notice dog tracks around the sandy dirt you've parked in, good to know they have a dog before you slammed your car door. Closing the door gently behind you so you don't startle a pup and wake up it's owner or owners, you make your way through the woods. No real direction in mind, with no real thought in your head. Just the thought of moving and to keep on moving.

You could walk the same path every time you came through and always find something different. In fact that's exactly what happens, you're almost positive that you've deepened the imprint of the path just from walking through several times a week. Following the same winding path you usually do, climbing over the fallen tree, and through a scattering of blueberry thicket's you find yourself on the edge of one of the forest's many streams. It's your favorite spot in the forest so far, and about as far as you've gotten considering these hikes of yours take place during the dead of night.

The wind picks up and sends a chill through you, taking that as a sign you slide down to sit by the stream. Vans placed to your side as you sink your feet into the cool water. It's peaceful out here, so cool, and quiet, save for the slight noises the stream makes, various bubbling and drips. You try to think on things like your recent move, your job, the embarrassing 'mask' incident, just life in general. But you can't seem to form a single thought, this happens a lot, you've recently been conscious of the fact that you've been running on auto pilot for the past two months, hell a lot longer than that. You think everyone must get like this from time to time, but you think you've always been this way. Keen to dissociating and slipping in and out of existence.

It's quite nice really, except for the times like right now where you'd love to figure out why the silence in your head is so painfully loud. The more you think on it the louder it gets and the stronger the buzzing under your skin feels. And right now the static in your mind has been getting louder and louder for the past few minutes. You feel your head jerk to the right of it's own accord, moving back in place it happens for a second time, and then a third, then jerks up, before jerking a forth time to the right effectively cracking you neck.

“There we go.” you mumble, you can relax a bit as the verbal tic indicates the end of this round of tics.

Sighing you look at the sky...that can't be right. The sky has been painted it's fresh baby blues for the day, but again that can't be right. You just got to the stream, that path is a thirty minute walk meaning it should be just about two thirty in the morning, but the sky suggests it's five or six at the latest. Reaching for your water bottle you find it empty next to you. You didn't fall asleep you know that much, perhaps you did dissociate tonight. Well this hike was disappointing if you knew you were going to dissociate you'd have saved yourself that embarrassment and stayed home. Maybe done some painting or tidied up.

Sighing you push yourself off the ground, collecting you vans you're about to put them on when you notice a figure off in the distance. You freeze out of shock and stare at the figure, it stares back. The figure is about ten yards away, god your near sighted ass should really remember to not leave your glasses in the car when hiking. The figure starts to make it's way to you and after a few steps you realize it hasn't moved from it's spot. Rolling your eyes you ignore the hallucination.

You'd really needed to get sleep last night, today is day six of no sleep and though you haven't had many episodes these past few days, you have a feeling they'll start to get more prominent today. Hopefully tonight you can manage to get some rest, the longer you go without sleep the more realistic the hallucinations become. But for today you're content with the knowledge that it's just shadow like beings that you'll be seeing.

After putting on your shoes you start the thirty minute hike back to your car. You're thankful for the weather in Kepler, nothing like back on the coast. Here you can go for a morning hike through the forest while a gentle breeze passes by and the sun starts to give the area a pleasant warmth. Back on the coast you couldn't run and grab the mail without getting drenched in moisture from either sweat, humidity, or a mixture of both.  The coast sucks, hell Virginia sucks altogether, you're glad to be in Kepler.

“I want to go home, home.” you say out of nowhere.

Before you reach the entrance you hear barking, oh the RV campers must be up. Should you be careful not to scare them, or just walk normally and say 'Good morning' in passing, maybe just nod your head in greeting. Oh and you've stopped just beside the entrance as you got lost in your rambling. You didn't mean to come to a stop here, and as you try to move you notice how silent it's gotten. Did the dog go inside, maybe they've already passed...no it's too quiet for that. No the silence is oppressive like the one you deal with nightly, there's a reason for the silence. The situation's making you feel uneasy, but that could be the sleep deprivation talking.

You're about to brush it off and move when you hear a whispered, “Seriously man, I don't think anyone's out there. Let's get inside.”

There's a noise of agreement before you hear shuffling. Oh no, you zoned out and now you look like a weirdo stalker. Just perfect, maybe if you wait around a little more you'll seem more normal or at least feel normal. Not knowing how long to wait you walk along the tree line for a bit, looking at the ground as you do making sure you won't step on any snakes. In you quest to not step on any snakes you spot something suspiciously off white. It seems purposefully buried under a dead blueberry bush and some fallen branches.

Having listened to too many true crime shows, you know better than to implicate yourself in a murder. Grabbing a stick off the ground you gently brush the foliage away from the supposed corpse. No way, you can't believe your luck, it's an actual fucking skull. An intact skull of a deer! That is so cool, you've only seen taxidermists on TikTok getting so lucky and finding these dudes. Since the jaw bone is connected by tissue it of course isn't with the skull but maybe it's close by? Clearly this got planted or hidden by someone, maybe they were planning on pranking a friend by 'uncovering' a skull later. Oh well, finders keepers and all that, you have way better plans for this guy, hopefully you can find that jaw bone.

You set off searching through the foliage and near by bushes with the branch while holding the skull in your other arm. After searching about three feet around and finding no more bones you decide that this is the only part of the deer's skeleton in this area. A little disappointed but still thrilled with your find, you decide it must be a good time to go back to your car.

Surely you won't look weird now. You a little forager with their treasure in hand. Looks like you'll be busy cleaning, then bleaching, and cleaning these bones today. Is that the order to treat found bones? You aren't sure but you can look into that later. Placing the skull in the trunk so it doesn't roll about and get damaged you make sure it's secure before closing the trunk and getting into your car and locking the doors.

Not once did you notice the pairs of eyes that had been watching you. One watching as you found the deer skull, and the other set seeing you place bones into your car. They kept watching as you fiddled with the radio while the car was starting up. They watched as you pulled out of the sandy dirt lot and drove back down the old road a little faster than before now that you could clearly see.

[fromthedeskofelizabeththird]

In the Middle

One of your boyfriends tries to rile up the other.

You get caught in the middle in more ways than one.

Fandom: BNHA

Pairing: Erasermic x Reader

Rating: Explicit, minors BE GONE

Trigger Warnings: None really

AO3: Here |  Want to support me? I have a Kofi

There were pros and cons to having two boyfriends.

You fought a never ending battle pulling hair from the shower drain. You had double the texts to reply to; double the calls to return. No matter how comfortable you were when you fell asleep, you always woke up with a crick in your neck and someone’s elbow in your face.

Hizashi craved attention more than oxygen and sulked if he felt even slightly neglected. He spent just as much time chasing kisses as he did styling his hair. He sang in the shower, the bathtub, the rain and was only too eager to drag one or both of you in for a duet. You learned the hard way not to stand next to him in front of the bathroom mirror, for he would bump his hips against yours until you sang along to the radio with him and you’d ended up with eyeliner halfway across your face more than once.

He would spend the day pouting if no one gave him a good morning kiss and drew smiley faces in ketchup if left to plate up at dinner. He was a handful and a terrible influence; the polar opposite of your other boyfriend in every possible way.

Shouta was neither loud nor demanding. He could go days without talking, much less singing, and was happiest dozing off on the couch with his head in someone’s lap. His affections were subtle and easy to miss, while the emotions behind them were anything but. He met you halfway when you reached out to touch him and smiled in his sleep if you kissed him on the forehead. He would complain if you wriggled into his arms while he was working, but rearrange his position to accommodate you nonetheless.

Hizashi needed attention, while Shouta rarely sought it and nine times out of ten you and Hizashi were the ones who did all of the seducing.

Today was no exception to that particular rule.

Summer had hit Musutafu seemingly overnight. It was too hot to sleep or even snuggle on the couch. All you seemed to do lately was curl up on the floor in front of the electric fan in as many clothes as you could bear, while Hizashi stood on the balcony in a tank and shorts, stretching like a cat and mopping the sweat from his brow. It was too hot for leather and too humid for hairspray- sacrifices he had had to make, but was far from happy about.

Shouta remained relatively unchanged. He still went out at night to patrol the streets and continued to plan classes on his laptop on the couch, changing into thinner clothes, but remaining otherwise unaffected.

He was on his laptop, in fact, on this day in particular, drafting out a plan for 1-A’s future training exercises. In the meantime, Hizashi had opened up the box of popsicles you’d been keeping in the freezer and the pair of you took turns in front of the electric fan.

It was only a matter of time before the quiet, heat and lack of attention got to Hizashi and he had rested his head on your lap, golden hair splayed across your thighs. At first it was enough to snake one of his hands under your shirt and cup your breast, but before long that too lost its appeal. He shot side glances at Shouta every so often, sighing and running his tongue over the popsicle.

And so it was you found yourself caught in a battle of wills.

Hizashi waited for Shouta to look over before touching his tongue to the ice. If his gaze lasted longer than a couple of seconds, Hizashi would curl his tongue. Shouta made a point to catch his eye and not react.

Both sides were too stubborn to cave and, as usual, it fell to you to break the tension.

You took the popsicle from Hizashi and leaned back, running your own tongue over the ice. It was on the verge of melting and syrup dripped onto your shirt, causing you to gasp most theatrically and pull the shirt away from your body as if it wasn’t in the least bit planned. At first Hizashi had pouted when you stole his popsicle, but now he was grinning like a Cheshire cat.

“It’s rude to take things without asking, (Name),” he said, sitting up. “The least you can do is share.”

You held out the popsicle and he sucked at the end, leaning back to allow you to do the same. You made sure to moan far louder than was necessary, as if it was something far less innocent than a popsicle.

“Ahhh, it’s getting all over my mouth,” you said, wiping the syrup from your lips and chin. “What am I going to do?”

“I can help with that,” said Hizashi, seconds before grazing his lips over yours, checking to see if Shouta was watching before deepening the kiss.

His lips were cold and he tasted of mangoes, the same flavour as the popsicle you’d been sharing. It was sweet, but the realisation that Shouta had stopped typing was far sweeter.

Shouta didn’t seek attention out, that much was true, but he sure as shit hated being left out of the action.

~~~~~

It was only a matter of time before you ended up on your hands and knees in the bedroom. You dug your nails into the bedcovers as Hizashi gripped your hips and took you from behind, all while Shouta bunched your hair in his hands, kneeling in front of you and thrusting into your mouth.

You barreled forward every time Hizashi slammed his hips into yours, moaning from the sensation of his dick hitting the one spot that made your toes curl.

The sounds Shouta was making were obscene. The vibrations of your moans against his dick combined with the way each thrust sent it deeper down your throat left him trembling. He could do little more than hold onto your hair and even then his hands were shaking.

Hizashi was absurdly quiet, all things considered, though you couldn’t turn your head to see why. You got your answer when he made a wet sound behind you and let out a moan, something icy landing on the small of your back.

“Hizashi...are you...are you still eating the popsicle?”

“No.”

More syrup landed on your back.

“Maybe.”

You heard the smack of his lips as he put it back in his mouth only moments before he took up such an ungodly pace that you took Shouta’s cock into your hand and jerked him off, grabbing onto the bed covers so tightly that your knuckles went white. The tension inside of you was too much to bear. You felt like you were going to explode.

You squeezed your eyes shut and squealed as you came undone, mind falling blank and legs shaking. It was like an electric shock burning through your core, leaving you unable to do anything but absorb each pulse.

Hizashi slowed down to enjoy the feel of you cumming on his dick, but the reprieve lasted only a few short moments. He guided you down onto the bed and over onto your back, shifting positions with Shouta, who lifted your knees over his shoulders.

He didn't have remotely the same stamina as Hizashi. You doubted any human did. He was, however, girthier and only too happy to torment you with it. He took you slow and deep, dragging sighs from your lips at the overstimulation. You were still having aftershocks from cumming the first time and saw stars each time his hips hit yours.

You turned your head to lick the tip of Hizashi’s dick, matching the pressure and speed of Shouta’s thrusts. Hizashi sucked in a deep breath, leaning over to grab Shouta by the hair and moan into his mouth.

The first time you had ever had sex with Hizashi, he shattered every window in your apartment building. You had laughed it off as an earthquake, though got the feeling no one believed you.

You had learned the hard way that he was loud when he came and the easiest way to prevent it was to stifle the sound before it could leave his lips, be it with a gag, by sitting on his face, preoccupying him with a blowjob or, as was the case now, with kissing.

You lay on your back and watched them nip at each other’s lips, waves of pleasure rushing through you. You were glad Shouta was holding onto your legs, for it felt as if the bones had left your body.

Hizashi was the next to come, whimpering into Shouta’s kisses as his dick twitched. He sat up and gave himself a final couple of tugs before spilling over your chest. Shouta followed suit, sitting up onto his knees and coming across your stomach.

Double the boyfriends, you considered fleetingly, double the mess.

~~~~

You stayed in bed for at least an hour after that, catching your breath and basking in the afterglow. It was still unbearably hot and no one was particularly enthusiastic about putting on clothes, even though the heat from one other’s bodies swiftly overpowered any relief from the electric fan.

“Why is it that whenever you two have shenanigans I end up in the middle?”

You could hear the fatigue in your own voice; the perfect compliment to how heavy your eyelids felt.

“I thought you liked being in the middle,” said Hizashi, only to squeak as you poked him in the ribs.

“I suppose I should take a bath,” you groaned, peeling Shouta’s arms from your waist and untangling your legs from Hizashi’s.

Your legs were more than a little floppy, but you disguised it by dropping to your knees to pick up your discarded clothes.

“(Name),” said Shouta, “wait.”

You turned to him, heart fluttering. Ordinarily he tolerated hugs at best, but on the rare occasions you managed to keep him awake after sex he was the biggest cuddler you’d ever met.

Maybe he wanted you to go back to bed.

Maybe he wanted to join you in the bath.

“Yes?”

“You’re blocking the fan.”

You turned to the fan behind you, heart sinking.

“And they say romance is dead,” you muttered, stepping out of the room.

Hizashi and Shouta closed their eyes, enjoying the feel of the cool air against their exposed skin. The peaceful moment was soon over, though, for seconds later you slipped your arm back through the doorway and flicked the off switch.

“Hey!!”

“(Name)!”

“Switch it back on, switch it back on!”

“Make me,” you said, sticking out your tongue and closing the door behind you.

“Oooooh,” Hizashi huffed, climbing out of bed. “When I catch you…”

He ran out of the bedroom and chased you through the apartment, paying little heed to the fact that you were both as naked as the day you were born.

Shouta turned over onto his side and fluffed his pillow.

He could sleep through just about anything; a fire alarm...hot weather...

...and, apparently, the sound of his two idiot lovers spraying one another with water.

[lunatens]

scaredy cats

-

requested by bea (🌱✨anon) tysm bby!! i’m sorry this took so long, i made it a lil longer to make up for it :> 

prompt: “uh...did the power just go out?”

*part of my 2 years with luna event!

word count: 2.2k

genre: fluff, high school au, childhood friends to lovers 

pairing: lee chan x gn reader

warnings: there’s a thunderstorm and the power goes out!

[you: channieeeee pls come over~]

[chan: y??]

[you: do u rlly need a reason lmao i just wanna see my bestie]

[chan: it’s raining thoooooo]

[you: so? use an umbrella it ain’t a far walk]

[chan: okok i’ll come hang out]

[chan: i’m gonna kick ur ass at super mario party tho]

[you: in your dreams ;) see u soon bby!!]

slipping your phone into your pocket, you roll off your bed and excitedly rush to your front window, pulling the blinds aside so you can have a better view of the street outside. chan wasn’t kidding, it’s raining alright—heavy torrents of rain pour from the sky, and the clouds look a bit too dark for your liking. you bite your lip guiltily, feeling a little bad that chan’s walking here in this weather. at least he only lives a block over, you think to make yourself feel better. 

chan’s been your best friend ever since he accidentally hit you in the face with a frisbee way back when you were just ten years old. your nose started bleeding, and chan panicked and tried to comfort you as he went with you to get cleaned up. even when the school nurse tried to send him back outside, he refused to leave until he knew you were okay. you tease him about this all the time, laughing at how overdramatic he was (”it was just a little nose bleed, chan” “okay but you were crying!!”) but you’re grateful for it, as you probably wouldn’t have become friends otherwise. 

you smile to yourself as you think back fondly on the memories of your childhood with chan; it won’t be long till you’re both graduating high school, and it’s hard to believe it’s been so many years since that fateful frisbee incident. you can’t help but nervously wonder what the future will bring for you and chan, but you push those thoughts aside when you see a figure running down the street trying to cover his head as he sprints through the puddles. he slows down as he reaches your house, jogging up to your front door. not even giving him the chance to knock, you open the door for chan and usher him inside quickly. 

“it’s a little wet out there,” he comments sarcastically, and a distant clap of thunder echoes through the sky as if to emphasize his point. you quickly shut the door and lock it, as if that’ll do something to keep the storm at bay. 

“yeah, no kidding, you’re dripping all over the floor,” you comment. chan pulls of his drenched shoes and opens his mouth to say something but you cut him off before he can start.

“i’ll go get you some dry clothes, stay here so you don’t get the entire house wet,” you tell him as you rush to your room to search for something chan can wear. you find a couple of his sweaters lying around, one he forgot here just last week and the other one from god knows when. you decide to keep the more recent one and give chan the older one along with a pair of your sweatpants and some warm socks.

“here, catch,” you say as you throw the clothes towards chan, who’s now standing in a large puddle in your doorway. he’s caught off guard, and the clothes hit him square in the face. 

“hey!!! i come all the way over here through a thunderstorm to see you just because you’re bored, and this is the thanks i get?” chan complains as he makes his way to your room to get changed.

“oh come on, i know you were just as bored as i was,” you tease, and chan can’t help but smile when you call him out. 

“you got me,” he responds before slipping into your room and closing the door behind him. you proceed to hook up your nintendo switch to the tv, preparing for a night of video games and maybe a movie or two. as you connect the cables, you hear your bedroom door open and chan’s soft footsteps as he goes to throw his clothes in the dryer. he returns to the living room, flopping onto the couch and grabbing a controller.

“what do you want for dinner? my parents are away for the weekend so there’s frozen pizza or….some sort of leftovers i think?” you ask chan, making your way to the kitchen.

“you’re not gonna cook for me?” chan teases, knowing you sometimes struggle to make toast. you give him a look before digging the pizza out of the freezer. you preheat the oven and place the pizza on a tray. 

“don’t forget to take the plastic off!” chan calls from the couch.

“i know, chan,” you say, but you’re glad he reminded you; that was a close one. 

-

two hours and a slightly overcooked frozen pizza later, you and chan are yelling at the screen as your characters pummel each other in a heated round of super smash bros. it’s still heavily raining, but the sounds of the tv drown out the steady drumming on the roof and the increasingly loud and frequent thunder. the two of you hardly notice the flashes of lightning in the now-dark sky as you focus on the tv. you’re just about to smash chan’s character to oblivion when all of a sudden everything is pitch black and a blanket of dead silence washes over the house, save for the rain on the roof.

“uh...did the power just go out?” chan asks, the two of you sitting frozen on the couch. you turn your head to look at him, although there’s really no point--you can’t see anything.

“hm, yeah i think it did,” you say. you’re trying to tease him, but you can’t hide the fear wavering in your voice. 

“where are you?” chan asks, voice equally fearful, and you reach out to feel for his outstretched hands in the dark. you find them, and the two of you grab onto each other and pull each other close. the room feels so empty without the bright lights from the tv and the chaotic yelling over the sounds of the game onscreen. now, there’s only the rain, louder than ever, although you swear you can hear your heartbeat out loud. 

“i think we have some candles in the basement,” you whisper.

“noooooope, you’re crazy if you think i’m going down there; it’s scary even when the lights are on,” chan replies and you feel him shake his head. “what about that scented candle i gave you for your birthday?”

“ooh, good call! it’s in my room,” you remember. “let’s go,” you say, pulling out your phone to use as a flashlight. lightning outside lights up the room for a moment, and not too long after there’s a loud clap of thunder. both you and chan let out a small shriek, feeling your grips on each other tighten. now, is your heart beating from fear of the dark and stormy night? or from the way chan holds onto you for dear life? probably a mix of both, but you choose not to think about that right now. 

“ok we’ll go on three, ready?” you say, waiting for chan’s response. you’re met with silence. “chan?”

“oh sorry, i forgot you can’t see me nodding. on three,” he confirms

“okay, one, two...three!” you count. on three, you pull chan off the couch and the two of you race hand in hand to your bedroom, guided by the bright light of your phone flashlight. you hesitantly let go of chan’s hand as you search for your candle and some matches. it doesn’t take too long to find them, and soon enough a flickering orange flame casts a faint flow around your room. you and chan climb onto your bed, you sitting up against the headboard and chan lying with his head in your lap. there’s enough light that you can now see each other’s silhouettes at least, and you look down to watch as the flame casts shadows that seem to dance across chan’s face. when did he grow up so much? you find yourself thinking, feeling like it was just yesterday the two of you were a couple of snot-nosed kids running around at recess. your fingers absentmindedly play with his hair as you’re lost in thought.

“this is kind of spooky, we should tell ghost stories!” chan suggests.

“or we could just talk and not scare ourselves into staying awake all night,” you reply.

“good idea,” he agrees, but neither of you say anything. you lie there in silence for a moment; the rain sounds a bit less violent from inside your room, and now that you can see a bit you find it’s quite a peaceful sound.

“mingyu asked me out today,” you tell chan. you’re not quite sure what possessed you to just tell him that out of the blue; you weren’t even planning on telling chan at all, but now you’ve gone and said it and you can’t take it back.

“really?? that’s great, y/n! when’s the date?”

you’re a bit disheartened at chan’s reaction; he seems genuinely excited for you, unless the shock is just masking his true feelings for now, 

“i said no.”

“what?? why??? i thought you liked him?” chan sits up at this, his head now even with yours as he looks at you in shock.

“not anymore,” you say with a shrug. your voice is quiet, unsure of where this conversation will head. 

“oh,” is all chan says. “is there...any particular reason?” he asks after a beat of silence. there’s something more in his voice now that wasn’t there before.

“i just don’t think he’s really my type,” you explain without elaborating. 

“well, what is your type if not mingyu? he’s kind, smart, beautiful, tall...he’s got it all! i mean, you’ve had a crush on him for like, a year, and he finally asked you out and you said no?” chan says in mild disbelief. 

“don’t get me wrong, mingyu’s a great guy and all, but i just-i think i realized i have feelings for someone else,” you say, voice trailing off to barely a whisper. 

“really?? who is it?” chan asks all-too-eagerly, and you start to feel doubtful he likes you back.

“it’s no one.”

“awe y/n, don’t be like that! at least give me hints?” chan asks. 

“fine,” you sigh, knowing he won’t leave it alone. “first of all, he’s annoying and loud,”

“that doesn’t sound like a crus-”

“do you want me to give you hints or not?”

“...yes please,”

“ok then shh. he’s annoying and loud, but it’s perfect because i am too so we get along really well. he’s also the most caring person i’ve ever met; i know he’d do anything for me if i asked him,” you continue, not sure how much you want to give away.

“wow, he sounds really great!” chan comments. to any other person, he’d sound excited for you, but you know him well enough to pick up on the slight disappointment in his voice, and it’s just the boost you need to keep going.

“he is; he’d even go out in a thunderstorm for me just because i said i’m bored,” you say and you turn to look at chan now. it’s too dark to read his expression, but you can see how he leans ever so closer to you. 

“now that’s some dedication, i mean he sounds flawless,” chan teases. you can hear the smile in his voice, which makes the butterflies in your stomach go wild.

“the only problem is i’m not sure if he likes me back,” you whisper, your nose brushing the tip of chan’s, and before you know it his lips are on yours in a passionate yet gentle kiss. how you’ve gone so long without kissing chan you don’t know; the years of secret feelings all finally set free in this one kiss. 

you didn’t lie about liking mingyu--you had actually thought you might’ve finally gotten over your feelings for chan and found someone else. for a couple of months it worked, and you found yourself distracted with thoughts of the tall boy instead of your best friend. but it all came crashing down when you caught the common cold the other week, and chan looked after you while you were sick--he even skipped class one day to make sure you weren’t lonely. all of your true feelings came rushing back to you, and you knew there were no hopes of losing them.

“what about now?” chan asks as he pulls away just enough to talk.

“i’m still not sure, he might have to kiss me again to convince me,” you say, unable to contain your smile. chan kisses you again, and it’s just as magical as the first time. a loud crack of thunder startles you, and you gasp as you latch onto chan, burying your face in his shoulder.

“you’re such a scaredy-cat,” he says, bringing his arms up to pull you closer.

“shut up so are you, i can hear your heart racing,” your voice is muffled by his sweater.

“maybe that’s just because of you,” he comments, stroking your hair. 

“ew,” you reply, but your heart’s not in it; you can pretend to hate how cheesy chan is all you want, but internally you love it just as much as you love every other aspect of him.

[darkblueboxs]

Shades of Sunset

Twenty years in the life of Andrew Minyard

Read here or on AO3 (check ao3 for content warnings)

*

Andrew is five years old, and he thinks orange is the most beautiful colour in the world.

It’s the colour of his favourite popsicle flavour, or what he’s sure would be his favourite popsicle flavour if Mrs Dunnard ever bought them popsicles. Instead, she buys the same tasteless frozen meals over and over again, oven fries or chicken nuggets or potato smileys. Andrew lets the smileys turn to mush as he fights the other foster kids for elbow room at the kitchen table, but he doesn’t smile back at the wobbly potato faces. He clears his plate all the same, because the kids who don’t get smacked.

He presses his face up against the glass in the freezer aisle and imagines the taste of sunset on his tongue.

Andrew is seven years old, and the upstairs neighbours have a ginger tabby cat. It winds around his ankles when he’s hiding in the backyard, a bright beacon amongst the dirt and scrub of the cracked earth, and Andrew can’t help but reach for it like a moth drawn in by candlelight. For a single, fragile moment, Andrew’s trembling fingers meet something warm and soft, softer than Andrew can ever remember feeling. Then the cat twists around and sinks its claws into Andrew’s arm.

Andrew clutches his forearm to his chest, watching as beads of red well up and glisten before dribbling down towards his fingertips. It’s a new kind of pain, stinging, sharper than the bruises he has grown accustomed to, but he doesn’t cry. Crying never made it stop. The next time the tabby comes near him, Andrew throws rocks until it bolts for cover with a hiss. He watches as it scrambles over the peeling fenceposts and out of sight, wishing he could follow it into the wilderness.

 Andrew is twelve years old, and when Cass sees him staring at the creamy-yellow wallpaper of what will soon be his own bedroom, she asks what his favourite colour is. Andrew tries to remember the last time someone asked, the last time someone cared, and for once his perfect memory draws an absolute blank.

“Orange,” he whispers, and Cass lights up. Together, they coat the walls with marigold paint, and when Andrew spills it down his front, Cass just laughs. His room is so bright that it almost glows, painting Cass in warm, saturated hues as they sit side-by-side, puzzling through Andrew’s homework until the rattle of keys in the front door alerts them to the rest of the household’s return. The sunbeam colours of day paint his world into a hazy mirage of safety, and for that Andrew suffers the blood-orange nights that follow. Soon, however, the light and dark bleed into each other like watercolour paints, and Andrew decides that if he cannot have one without the other, then it is safest to want nothing at all.

 Andrew is fourteen years old, and he is sick to death of orange. The juvie uniform is offensively orange, as though trying to burn the observer’s eyes out, as stark a warning as possible: approach with caution. Andrew pulls the starchy, cheap cotton over his head, and it feels as though he has worn nothing else all his life. He lets himself tumble into the faceless sea of uniform faces, not caring where the tides will take him.

 Andrew is eighteen years old, and he wishes he could be surprised when Dan pushes the fox fur-orange windbreaker into his arms, but under the ebb and flow of drug-induced mania there is truly no feeling at all. Of course the universe would continue to taunt him with too-bright uniforms that cling to him like wet sand, scratching at his lungs as he breathes around a sewn-up smile. Minyard, it says in white lettering, as though the neat stitching can tie him into this ludicrous new life with the power of a name that barely feels like his own. If their coach thinks that putting them all in one horrendous colour will magic them into a team, he has another thing coming. Uniform does not mean unity, and Andrew stands in the goal and watches distant sunburnt figures grapple and tumble across the court, stick loose in his hand. When the ball shoots past him, he doesn’t even flinch.

They can tell him what it means to wear these colours and stand on this court until the cows come home; Andrew doesn’t care. Nothing gets under his skin anymore.

 Andrew is nineteen years old, sitting in the plastic stadium seats and watching as their newest recruit races across the court. He’s a blur of orange and white, quicker than a fox and twice as sly, and Andrew doesn’t trust him an inch. He may have grown accustomed to passing his days engulfed in the campus colours that scream school pride from every street corner, but Neil makes the colour new all over again. Off the court, he hides himself in washed-out blues and greys, shrinking into his oversized hoodies as though hoping to be swallowed by them. On the court, however, there is no hiding, nor any inclination to. Neil stands on the court like he was born to rule it, throwing himself into the game with the kind of whole-hearted determination Andrew believed only Kevin was brain-dead enough to be capable of. Off the court, Neil treats the Foxes’ luminescent oranges like he would a target painted on his back. Here, he wears them like a shield.

He suits them.

Andrew doesn’t know what to make of their newest recruit, not yet. But he will.

 Andrew is twenty years old, and something has gotten under his skin. The pipe dream in the shape of a man stares at him across the Easthaven hospital waiting room through unmasked, ice-blue eyes. Back at the dorms, Andrew takes him up on the roof, peels back the plaster to see the fresh tattoo bruising his cheek. Not if it means losing you¸ he says, and Andrew resists the urge to throw him off the roof then and there. His hair is a single drop of colour against the grey sky above, deep auburn like campfire embers. Andrew didn’t think Neil could have been any more of a danger until he returned from the nest beaten within an inch of his life, the new colours streaking through his hair like a warning, threat, threat, threat.

Andrew looks at Neil, and puts a name to the burn of sensation flickering in his gut.

Andrew hates Neil, hates how softly he looks at him, hates the molten want that Neil pulls effortlessly through his veins. Above all, he hates the deep orange tint that now flits in and out of his periphery like the wings of a monarch butterfly as Neil buries himself into Andrew’s chest and fills his lungs with smoke. In the dead of night, Andrew imagines how soft Neil’s tousled curls would feel between his fingers, and wants, wants, wants for something he cannot let himself have. He remembers the sting of claws raking across his forearms all too well, knows where the path of wanting will take him if he isn’t careful.

Andrew hates orange, and hates Neil for making him feel anything about it at all. But he knows how to protect himself, knows how to keep himself back from the cliff-edge of feeling that nearly killed him once already. He won’t fall again.

 Andrew is twenty years old, and Neil’s lips taste like sunset.

 Andrew is twenty years old, and Andrew is falling. He laps the stadium once, twice, the dispersing rioters and flashing police cars blurring into a black jumble of sound and movement, but it doesn’t matter, none of it matters, because he can’t find Neil, and he had forgotten, forgotten how it felt to fall, to fear, was this fear, was this-

He almost misses the racquet lying battered and forgotten amidst empty soda cans and discarded ticket stubs. He picks it up as though he’s never seen one before, and even though the team colours have been scuffed and dirtied in the fight, it’s still the unmistakable Fox orange peeling between his fingers, white strings torn and unravelling. He picks up Neil’s bag, thumbs through his phone, and parts of him unravel too.

Andrew finds his way back to the team bus, takes one look at Kevin’s expression – broken, wild, and filled with a grief that couldn’t be explained by anything other than-

Andrew sees red.

 Andrew is twenty years old, and for the last twelve hours his world has been nothing but shades of grey shot through by occasional bursts of uncontrollable wildfire-red. Dragging Wymack along behind him like a ball and chain, he sees the men standing outside the motel room, and the final thread of his control pulls and snaps as he shoulders his way inside, not caring if he breaks a wrist in his desperation, and then-

White plaster. Blue eyes. Auburn curls.

Safe.

 Andrew is twenty-three years old, and his vision is swamped in sparkling bursts of confetti, a glittering shower of oranges and whites that tumble from the rafters like autumn leaves. The crowd is on their feet and screaming enough to shake the court’s foundations as the final score to end the season glows overhead. Neil collapses at the sound of the buzzer, striped orange bandana holding his auburn curls back from his face. They glow like embers in the stadium lights, which backlight his head like a halo. He turns to Andrew and smiles.

Andrew decides that orange isn’t so bad after all.

 Andrew is twenty-five years old, against all odds. His team’s uniform is green. Their team, as soon as Neil’s transfer paperwork goes through. Andrew won’t miss orange, much, but he will miss seeing Neil in it.

Or perhaps not. A blur of colour glides past his periphery, and Andrew pushes himself up in bed to watch as Neil pulls a jumper Andrew has never seen before over his head. He catches Andrew looking, and his lips quirk upwards.

“You like it?”

“No.” It’s something chunky and hand-knitted, perhaps a gift from one of the Foxes, and it hangs so long on Neil that the hems of his boxers barely peak past the bottom. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

Neil glances down at his bare legs, then back up, smirking. “I don’t know, am I?” He rolls back onto the bed, which strikes Andrew as counterproductive to getting dressed, but he has no interest in complaining when Neil climbs into his lap, thighs pressing into him on either side. Andrew runs a hand along Neil’s leg against the grain of his hair, slow, pensive. His fingers soon collide with soft amber wool. Neil tilts his head teasingly to one side. “I thought orange was your favourite colour.”

Andrew tangles his fingers in the collar and uses it to tug Neil in against him. “I hate it,” he murmurs into Neil’s ear, and follows it with a brief press of his lips to the one point below Neil’s earlobe that always makes him shudder.

“Like you hate me?”

“Yes,” Andrew says.

When Neil’s lips meet his, they taste like sunset.

Andrew is twenty-five years old, and he thinks orange is the most beautiful colour in the world.

*

Thanks for reading!

[palettes-and-prompts]

hiii! can i get some spooky halloween prompts? anything goes: supernatural, terror, costume party... thanks!

Sure thing! Normally I would have done these last since I do requests in order but since they’re Halloween themed I decided to do them first just in case I’m not done with the prompts in my inbox by the end of the month or something.

Dialogue Prompts

1) "Hey, I got us invited to a costume party but we've got to bring a live animal for some reason." "Were you invited by someone who sacrifices animals?" "You know, they mentioned something about a sacrifice but I just thought they misspoke and meant to say sack of ice." "Yeah, we're not going to that." 2) "Hey, I accidentally joined a cult again, can you come pick me up?" 3) "Were you making out with Person A?" "It was just heat of the moment!" "We thought we were going to die when you chased us around with that fake chainsaw!" "Does Person B know about this?" "DO NOT TELL THEM." "Oh...I'm gonna." 4) "Grab a shovel, idiot, we've got to raise another person from the dead." "Ugh, again? Didn't we just raise someone else?" "Yeah, and now another person is dead so we have to do it again." 5) "Great. I'm alone. I'm alone in the fucking woods dressed like this. I'm gonna get murdered. I am. I'm gonna get murdered because Person A doesn't know how to follow simple fucking directions. It's great. Perfect, just where I wanted to be." "Are you talking to yourself?" "Jesus fucking Christ! Don't sneak up on me like that. God! Should put a fucking bell on you!" "I've been behind you the whole time." 6) "Sun comes up in two hours, we have to go back home." "I don't want to be a creature of the night like you." "Yeah, well, no one asks to be but you are. And it's either hide or burn." 7) "Hey, my shithead relative's in town so we're taking their things and burying them in the woods, wanna come?" "Wont they notice things are gone?" "Yeah, but they think my house is haunted so it's fine." 8) "Person A?" "What? Did you hear another noise?" "There's someone watching us over there." "Get in the car. Quickly, quickly!" 9) "You absolutely cannot wear that costume." "Why? Cause I look fucking sexy as hell in it while you're dressed like some furry?" "First of all, I'm not dressed like some furry. I'm dressed like the Cheshire cat from Alice in Wonderland. You know that. And Second of all, it's a Halloween themed birthday party for CHILDREN. No, you can't wear your sexy BDSM catsuit. We're going to celebrate a birthday not get hit on by single mothers/fathers." "Maybe you're going to celebrate a birthday. I'm looking to get some phone numbers." "Change." "God you're a buzzkill. Fine!" 10) "Oh my god, there's the killer!" "You know, they're looking kinda sexy in this lighting." "They've murdered six people." "Maybe I should ask if they're up for destroying my-" "Stop talking!" 11) "Oh no, I sure hope no murderers are out there looking for me, Person A, a sexy and single person who likes long walks on the beach and having a good time with fun, adventurous, sexy singles in my area!" "God. Can you just act like a normal person for five fucking minutes, please? Please? I am literally begging you." "What? I just want to let everyone know I'm not afraid of a little danger!" "People are dead, Person A." 12) "You're holding my hand." "I just don't want to get lost in the woods at night." "You keep squeezing it tighter when you hear a scary noise." "Okay, so I'm scared. What? You going to call me a chicken?" "No. I think it's cute when you hold onto me tighter." 13) "You look like you're going to vomit." "I am, I'm incredibly sick. I was gonna go home, but Person A showed up and they hate me so I swallowed a handful of blood capsules so when I throw up it looks like blood." "Why would you do that?" "Because I hate Person A and want to scare them." "But what if they don't care." "Then they look heartless in front of everyone. Basically a win for me." 14) "How'd swallowing blood capsules go?" "Turns out they're super toxic and I had to go to the hospital immediately. But I did find out that Person A doesn't hate me, they're actually in love with me but didn't know how to express that because they're bad at expressing feelings. So we're dating now." "Jesus Christ, I can't believe that's the story you're going to have to tell your future kids." 15) "Don't panic, but I have a knife in my chest." "You what?" "I fell when I was carving a pumpkin and ended up stabbing myself in the chest with a knife. I'm fine though." "You're not fine, you stabbed yourself." "I'm fine, I'm driving myself to the hospital right now." "You're driving?!?!" 16) "What are you going to be for Halloween, Person A?" "Myself." "That's a horrible costume, it'll never win the contest. Go as a dog." "Sound's like Person A already is!" "Fuck you, Person B!" 17) "Person A got hammered and threw up in a child's Halloween bucket." "That's okay, they said trick or treat. Not everyone can be lucky enough to get a treat. It's about time kids started receiving some tricks." "I'll go give them the rest of the candy bowl and apologize. You keep A here." 18) "HEY! DID YOU FUCKING BUY THESE WAX CUBES THAT SMELL LIKE CANDY CORN?!" "Yeah." "Don't you EVER buy these again. Person A just ate seven before I read the packaging." "Why didn't Person A read the package? They're a grown ass person and it fucking says wax cubes on the front of the package." "They're a dumbass, Person B! You know you can't leave inedible things that smell like foods around them. Remember what happened with the scented erasers?" "Yeah, that was a weird hospital visit." 19) "Why would you want to go on a hay ride when you can ride me right now?" "Never been disappointed on a fucking hay ride." 20) "Switch costumes with me. Person A and I accidentally ended up matching and if they notice and point it out to everyone and call us twins I might end up killing someone." "Person B, is that you?" "Oh fuck me..." "Person B!" "I have to go, distract them so I can get away!"

Regular Prompts

1) A and B are invited to a party thrown by someone they work with, Person C, but don't know them that well. They get there early and it's just them and Person C tells them to help themselves to food while they fix something outside. A opens the freezer and panics when they find a severed head. It looks real and A and B decide they need to leave. Just as they're about to leave the power goes out. 2) A's in an unhappy relationship with Person B. Instead of going to a party with their friends like A wants to do B insists they play with the new ouja board they got. A doesn't want to but B complains until A gives in. They accidentally summon a demon and while B leaves them behind, the demon, Person C, insists that B was a piece of shit anyway. A and C form an unlikely friendship and when A finds a way to bring C into their world permanentally the two decide to live together and C helps A get out of their relationship. The two then get together after getting to know each other and A discovers dating demons is way better than humans. 3) A and B are close friends who almost kiss but then it's interrupted when vampires show up and start terrorizing the town. The two begin a hunting spree with a few friends to take down all the vampires and the experience makes their friendship stronger and the two share a first kiss after they take down the last vampire together. 4) A and B are at C's house for a party, someone they've known their whole life. They realize halfway through the party that the locked basement they've never been in is unlocked. They decide to go down to see what's down there but immediately regret it when they turn the light on and find C surrounded by bodies and their hands and mouth covered in blood as they tell both of them they can explain everything. 5) A group of friends sneak into the park during Halloween even though it's closed and discover that the public bathroom has a body and the whole place is covered in blood. They decide to leave and call someone but they don't get a signal and now five people in dark cloaks are chasing them with knives. 6) A and B are known for being unscareable since nothing's ever made them scream out of fear. Their friends try to scare them throughout the whole day but they're unable to. The go to visit A's grandparents in the nursing home after A's parents insist. But when they go there they walk into the wrong room and find two old people doing it and A and B, along with the rest of their friends, scream in horror before closing the door. Unable to look at another old person they visit A's grandparents, but don't make eye contact and none of the friends make fun of them for it. They all just go trick-or-treating and agree to never speak of it again. They all forget about it until the next Halloween when they're sitting around watching TV and A's parents walk in telling A to go visit their grandparents. The group of friends simultaneously scream NO in horror and the story ends with them all shuddering at the memory. 7) A is unscareable so their friends hire someone to fake a news broadcast and pretend to be a murderer loose in their area. A isn't scared but when the fake murderer walks by and A sees them through the windows they all pretend not to believe A because A's a known prankster. A sees them more and more around the house with a knife but it isn't until A turns around and the pretend murderer is right behind them in the house that they scream. Everyone either records it or takes pictures before admitting to A it's just a prank. (Bonus if A already knew about the prank and hired the fake murderer to pretend to be murdered by someone A knows who actually just got out of prison. No one gets hurt but A definitely gets back at the others for trying to scare them.) 8) A group of friends find a giant pumpkin in the woods and when they find it has a door only Person A is brave enough to go inside. The door closes behind them and disappears and when someone comes towards the pumpkin they don't know they explain their friend is stuck inside. The person explains that the pumpkin is actually a carnivorous plant that digests the people who walk in on Halloween and that it can eat twenty people at a time. Before they can get worried or call someone Person A bursts out the side of the pumpkin carrying two kids and telling the others to come help the rest of the people inside. The others are still shaken from being inside but A tells the others they're going to need a chainsaw and a truck. A ends up saving more people and making sure it's empty before the friends help them make pumpkin pies for the entire town. A ends up getting a first place ribbon at a pie contest they didn't enter and the friends are hailed as town heroes. 9) A group of friends go camping and ask Person A and Person B to go find Person C, who's near the road and doesn't know where everyone else is. The two hate each other and end up getting into a heated argument where they end up wandering around and getting lost. Unable to get a signal on their phones or figure out how to use a compass they end up getting more lost and end up seeing someone watching them. The two are terrified and run away. The stranger chases after them and soon more people pop out of nowhere, terrifying them as they run around. When they finally see a light they run towards it and find out they walked all the way across town where the community had set up a haunted house in the woods for people to walk into. The two end up hating each other less but agree they're never going camping again. They end up getting a cab and just decide to get Person A's car and go to a restaurant for food. 10) Person A and B are dating when Person A gets their head stuck in a fake pumpkin and B has to call the fire department. A laughs at their situation and B just stands by, completely embarrassed by their significant other.

[dammitadolfnomorecake]

Once Bitten, Twice Stupid prt 183

182

For the next two days, Keith wolfed out at night... then woke the following morning not remembering anything. He still seemed jittery and on edge. Rieva had said he’d finally got the hang of walking, then running, wolf howls filled the night as the three of them did whatever werewolves did. Keith slept most of the day away, Lance removing his clothes from where he’d packed them, trying to make Keith comfortable. This was hard for him. Keith not remembering coming home and being reassured sucked. They hovered in each other’s space but there were no kisses or words of love. Worst of all was when Lance reacted to Keith’s scent. Getting off seemed like such a chore, and never as good as it felt with Keith.

The day after the third night Keith slept like the dead on the sofa. He hadn’t come to Lance’s room. He didn’t use Lance’s bathroom. There was some kind of clear invisible line there that hurt like all hell, driving him into an anxiety attack over the idea they’d never be able to have what they had again. He felt as if he’d cried a river of tears, crying himself to sleep or passing out from not being able to control his breathing, though that was unlikely. With Keith home, Lance had let Hunk and Pidge know not to come around, of course they insisted on seeing Keith as soon as it was safe. Sending them a photo of Keith sleeping on the sofa, Lance let them know tomorrow should be okay in the group chat, Shay wanting to come too. Maybe it was his way of having back up should things blow up with Keith, but he didn’t know how to close this distance on his own. Keith needed everybody to support him right now. To show him they were all just relieved he was awake and alive. He could wait... no matter how much it sucked.

It was near on the middle of the night that Keith finally roused. Lance in the kitchen, indulging in his need for ice cream and watching cat videos on his phone. Stumbling in, Keith went straight for the coffee machine. Some things never changed. He didn’t seem to notice Lance at first, not until he’d poured his cup of coffee and sat down at the kitchen table. Lance nearly getting up to leave, only stopping himself when he realised Keith was staring at him.

Having to say something, Lance took a deep breath, unable to push that fake smile to his lips. Things weren’t okay and a smile wasn’t going to fool anyone

“How are feeling?”

Keith blinked at him, as if he didn’t expect Lance to care and it hurt

“Um... tired. Thanks for letting me stay”

“This is your home too, you know”

“Um... I... uh... feel like we should talk but I don’t know what to say”

“Neither do I. Do you feel better for having had your first moon?”

“Actually, yeah. I don’t feel as short tempered”

“That’s good. That means your ego’s settling”

If someone inserted cricket noises in the silence that followed, it would have been less awkward. They knew how to talk to each other, but both of them seemed to be failing. Keith took a deep sip of his coffee, he must have made it more milk than coffee or he was now impervious to heat. Placing the cup back down, Keith sighed

“I don’t know what to do”

“What are you thinking?”

“Do you still love me?”

Lance answered instantly. Keith was the foundation of his heart, even if he wasn’t too sure how Keith felt about him now

“Yes. That hasn’t changed at all”

“Then do you think we can work this out?”

“I’d like to try... but no pressure. You’re dealing with so much right now”

Keith sighed. A sigh could be a hundred different sounds, this one sounded sad to him

“I don’t want to hurt you”

That sounded like Keith wanted to walk away. Lance waited for the “but” only for it not to come, so he supplied it himself

“But?”

“I don’t know. I just... I don’t want to hurt you. I’m scared of this ego thing. I thought I got it... but it really isn’t something that can be explained”

“No. It isn’t, is it. I don’t know what I can do to help. I love you too much to give up on you, but at the same time, I don’t want you to feel pressured by me”

“I feel like there’s this thing between us. I hate it. I can’t kiss you. I can’t hold you. I feel like... shit. I’m not blaming you. I know you didn’t want me to turn, yet... I wonder if you were really okay with me dying instead. If that’d been better”

Keith could kindly go fuck himself if he thought so little of Lance. Pushing his chair back, he smooshed the lid back onto the ice cream container, bending the spoon up in it

“Lance?”

“Don’t fucking say anything”

Keith was confused by him snapping. Lance moving to put the ice cream away

“What’s that supposed to mean?!”

Throwing the freezer door open, Lance jammed the ice cream in. There was enough space in his carefully crafted game of freezer Tetris, Lance too angry to care

“I don’t know. Tell me, Keith, how could you ever fucking think I would be okay with you being dead?! Do you really think I’m all like “he’s a fucking wolf now, better not give two shits?!”. Is that it? You don’t think I fucking care?! Of course I didn’t want you dead! I love you! You are the other half of my fucking soul! You’re the one who woke up and said you wanted to be dead instead! I watched you laying there, day after day, not fucking waking up! I waited! I begged you to wake up! I was against the turn because it happened without your permission! You think you’re the only one feeling this distance?! I want to kiss you! I want to hug you! I want to tell you I love you! But I don’t know what’s alright and what’s too much!”

Slamming the door closed, the fridge rocked in place

“You packed my things”

“I packed them because I thought you’d choose Shiro over me! Because I know egos are messed up! I thought you’d need space or time, and I didn’t want you feeling like you had to pity the poor stupid vampire who prayed for his lover to wake up every single fucking day! If you don’t want to be here, you don’t have to be! If you don’t want to know me or the twins, you can fucking leave! I didn’t give up on you! I was trying to do right by you! Don’t you know being around me could have sent you insane?! Coran could have had to kill you because your ego clashed with mine!”

He’d woken the twins up. An unexpectedly hard kick making him stumble a little and grab for the bench

“Lance!”

Fixing Keith in his gaze through teary eyes, Lance shook his head

“Don’t call my name if you don’t want me! I can’t take this! I’m not that strong and I can’t be mad at you”

“I didn’t say I didn’t want you”

“You asked if I still loved you. It’s the same thing! I love you! I haven’t stopped loving you! I don’t care that you’re a werewolf, you’re still the man I love!”

Keith climbed from his chair, acting out a scene that’d happened a thousand times before as he wrapped Lance up in a hug

“I still love you. But I don’t know how you can accept me. I don’t know how to be a werewolf... I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t know who I am any more”

“You’re still you! Why can’t you see that?! We all still fucking love you! We all still care. We all still want you around... I still want you around! It’s killing me not being about to hold you! Or kiss you! Or tell you I love you!”

Keith was probably half deafened as Lance wailed. Keith’s scent wasn’t as “wet doggy” as before. He could still pick up his boyfriend’s scent... he knew egos sucked and Keith was thrown in the deep end here, but why couldn’t his love be enough?!

“I’m sorry...”

“Don’t apologise! I know I’m overreacting! I know it!”

Keith nuzzled into Lance’s hair, kissing the soft locks

“I love you, too. I do. That hasn’t changed”

“Then why is it so hard?!”

“I don’t know. I don’t want to give up on us”

“Then tell me what I need to do to make you see I care...”

“I don’t know. I don’t know how to fix us but I don’t want to lose you either”

“Then what do we do!? I don’t want to keep missing you even when you’re in the same room as me”

“I don’t want to keep missing you either. I love you. I know I do. I just don’t get why my ego prickles or gets mad so easily”

“Because it’s new... I thought I got things after spending so much time with Rieva and Matt, but I can’t seem to... to get it. You said you didn’t like my smell”

“I didn’t... you smelt... too much. But it’s not so bad now... I kind of want to rub against you”

“Because I smell like death and animals use dead things to hide their scent”

“Maybe, but you also smell... like... really good... in a way. I can’t explain it. What do I smell like to you?”

Lance sniffled, his nose all snotty and blocked up. He really wasn’t supposed to be getting too emotional. He’d experienced enough small waves of arousal without hitting that heat stage, and if he did hit that heat stage with Keith, he was worried Keith would freak out

“You smell... like you. Like wet dog but I can still smell you. It’s gotten stronger... like you’ve been working out and covered in sweat”

“Is it bad?”

“No... not bad...”

“That’s okay then... Fuck, babe. I don’t want to hurt you... I don’t know my limits anymore”

“Welcome to my world. A tad too much strength and I’ve broken a jar...”

“Maybe I shouldn’t be opening jars for the time being”

“It’s probably safest... I think I should go to bed... Too much stress is bad for my body right now”

“Can I come with you?”

Lance didn’t think that wise but he craved Keith. He craved being held by him. It made him want to chuck all the confusing shit out the window and not think things through

“Don’t ask me like that. I can’t say no and I don’t know if I should be saying no as your ego forms”

Keith had calmed down so much. He’d come back that first night, Coran saying he missed Lance, that he missed his mate

“I get it...”

No. Now Keith sounded sad... He didn’t want Keith being sad or to be making things harder for the man he loved

“Can we just... try cuddling?”

“I’d like to try”

“Okay... but... um... the bedroom isn’t... how you remember it”

“That’s okay. I just want to hold you some more. I want my ego to know you mean more to me than it does”

“Ego doesn’t work like that. Anything can set it off. Sometimes it not even something big”

“It should. I mean, I want it to settle and know you’re precious to me. I feel like I’m drowning and I don’t know who to turn to”

“You’re not... you have every single one of us who wants to be there for you. Pidge and Hunk wanted to come around to see you”

The innocent comment set Keith on edge. A low growl coming from the werewolf, followed by a sigh

“What was that? Why did I growl?”

“I don’t know... we’ll ask Coran in the morning. He’ll know”

“I hope so... Can I stay?”

“This has never not been your home too...”

“You said I should stay with Shiro...”

“Because I want to do whatever’s right by you... but I don’t want you to again... not really”

“Then we’ll talk to Coran in the morning. Do you want to bring the ice cream to bed?”

“Not really... let’s just... let’s just go and see how it goes”

“Okay, babe. We’ll work this out”

Tears rushed to fill Lance’s eyes again

“God, I hope so”

*

Keith didn’t know what he expected from being a werewolf, but it wasn’t this. Rieva and Matt had baby sat him through the moon, and now he had to learn how to have everything he wanted in life all over again... and not pop a raging boner while watching Lance sleep. Spooned around him, he’d tilted a little so he wouldn’t be directly stabbing Lance in the arse. Lance had been through a lot. Staying beside him when he’d been in a come. Putting up with his douche of an ego before the full moon. Trying to figure out how to help him and what he needed, while still scared that Keith didn’t have feelings for him anymore.

Keith hated Lance’s bed. A sheet, then a blanket. That was it. Not two or three blankets under them with another two or three on top of them. It felt barren. His boyfriend was pregnant. That... that meant a lot to him, that he was still Lance’s boyfriend, and hadn’t been dumped because of his arseholic ways. Lance had so much love and so much patience for him. He hadn’t lied when he said things had felt better now the full moon had passed, but he still didn’t feel fully settled. He’d noticed he’d rubbed up against a lot. As if he was trying to drown his scent out. He’d nearly licked his boyfriend’s shoulder, unsure why when he didn’t used to go around licking Lance for no apparent reason.

His new strength scared him. Every time he looked to his hands and found his fingernails were claws instead, he felt fear. Lance laying there felt... like the vampire was being too unguarded. He could tear Lance’s throat out before he’d have time to register what happened. Had Lance worked through this? Was that what he laid awake afraid of when Keith was human? Choosing to love a human had to be hard. He knew it was hard, but it was harder? than he’d known. He could hear Lance’s heart. Feel every single move of their twins inside of him. He could hear Matt going to the toilet. Rieva kissing him. Giggling with him. The privacy thing really was... weird. It’s existed and now it was gone. Would he make Lance happy? Being... a werewolf?

And if he made Lance happy, then would he lose Shiro whom he already hadn’t talked to in days. He knew Shiro acted to save him. He knew that. Yet he did kind of feel violated for not having the choice. And not just because it reminded him that Lance also hadn’t had a choice, but because he’d his brother break a promise from back before they’d met Lance. If they changed, if a hunt went wrong, they both chose death to the curse. That Shiro and Lance were fighting was bad enough. Lance was so close to Curtis and Keith to Shiro. Shiro’s time should be spent with his boyfriend, helping Curtis work through his demons from carrying and actual demon. He didn’t know much about what Curtis was going through, or how he was.

No. He’d been angry sack of shit.

Every time he insulted his ego, even mentally, he felt a kind of stab of anger from it. For 28ish years he’d been him. Now he didn’t feel like himself. Coran would be the first offer counselling, yet this seemed a waste if he was going to constantly be picked on by his ego. No wonder most werewolves were douches. Their egos really did pressure them. He didn’t want that. He didn’t want to keep being angry and keep arching up over nothing. Lance let him in, let him those close to their twins, how was Lance not afraid he’d turn them, or hurt them? He’d been afraid to spend too long with Shiro for much the same reasons.

Closing his eyes, Keith snuggled into Lance, wishing his head would shut up. As exhausted as he felt, he also felt a buzz under his skin to get up go running. Somehow the idea of training had lodged itself in his brain. If Coran kept him employed, he’d be a much better hunter in a lot of ways and a lot worse with this scent of his. It’d be easier to scent Shiro up and make believe he was a wolf, but it’d be a dead give away to vampires that they weren’t friendly or naive. That was all provided Shiro still wanted him as a partner. He didn’t know how to fix things with Shiro when things had never been this way between them. Shiro had had to kill Adam when he was a vampire. That was out of mercy. What happened if Keith lost himself to his ego and Shiro was forced to do the same thing? What happened to his family when he was no longer there to take care of them? Did he become a story to them?

*

Unable to sleep, Keith carefully slipped out from behind Lance. He had too many thoughts and things down south were starting to ache. Jerking off sounded like a chore, but maybe a good orgasm would finally get rid of his thoughts and the pent up sensation. Keeping his steps light, he’d reached the door before he’d known it. This speed thing was no joke. His head still thought he was sitting on the edge of Lance’s bed with him trying to convince himself that jerking off would help settle himself down.

Leaning against the bathroom counter, he’d barely pulled his sweats and underwear down to deal with his issue when Lance came shuffling, catching him holding his dick like a perv. Rubbing sleep out his eyes, Lance mumbled sleepily

“Keith?”

“What are you doing awake?!”

Screeching at Lance might not be the best way to play things cool... but this was Lance’s bathroom and he was panicked. Lance’s eyes widened, a blush appearing on his cheeks as he looked away

“I’m sorry! I felt you get out of bed and wanted to make sure you were okay! I’ll just... bed... go...”

Keith died a little more on the inside. He loved their sex life. He didn’t feel disgusted or revolted by his needs or Lance’s... now he kind of did. He’d wanted to care of things as quickly and as quietly as he could, then slip back to bed like it’d never happened

“I...”

“It’s okay! It’s okay... You do you, boo”

That seemed to make everything that much worse. He only felt like this because of his ego and because holding Lance felt right to him. It’d been so long since he had. Since they’d had sex. Thinking about Lance only proved to make that need between his legs worse

“I didn’t... know you were awake. I’ll... uh, take care of this... um... Go back to bed... Yeah, go back to bed and we’ll act like this never happened”

His voice was wobbly, he didn’t want Lance going back to bed, but he also didn’t want to jump Lance’s bones despite what his body was telling him

“It’s okay. I get it. You have needs”

Keith didn’t know why Lance sounded so sad about said needs

“It’s not... I mean... I didn’t want... you thinking you had to take care of things and...”

His hand was still wrapped around his dick. Why was his hand still wrapped around his dick?!

“I really do get it. I’ve jerked off too... no big deal... I’ll...”

Keith groaned at the thought. Had Lance fingered himself thinking of him? Had he moaned his name? Cried out for him? Fuck. He wanted to be in Lance. He wanted to bend him over the counter and fuck him until next year

“Keith?”

“You... you should go... I don’t think I can hold back”

Lance smelt so good. He could tell the vampire was turned on by the sight of him. He could smell how pregnant his lover was, and knew that scent would only get sweeter as the pregnancy progressed. Lance being Lance made it so damn hard to be respectful of him and his body when he was this aroused

“Uh. Yeah... um... I’ll do that. Good night... morning, good morning...”

As Lance climbed into bed, he grumbled about what an idiot he was before groaning deeply. Keith knew he wasn’t supposed to hear Lance scolding himself, but he found it cute. Lance was very cute. Fuck. Why did he have to love someone so cute?!

Jacking off didn’t take long. All he had to do was think of his boyfriend and his hips did the rest. Release felt amazing. Nearly as good as with Lance. If jerking off felt this good, he couldn’t wait to see what being inside Lance would be like. Cleaning up his mess, Keith made sure there was no traces left of the bathroom cupboard before rewashing his hands and heading to bed. Immediately Lance got out the other side. Keith feeling for though he knew he couldn’t reach him, feeling like he needed to apologise seeing his self love session had first happened, then been over in less than a minute

“I’m sorry... If you want me to go...”

“I’m going to stop you there. We don’t have to talk about, and right now, I am busting for the toilet. Jerking off happens”

“But...”

“It even happens really fast. Don’t let the bed get cold”

Keith’s soul clear left his body to yeet its self out the window. Lance didn’t need to rub it in... Not when Keith would have rather been rubbing it in him. Ugh. Next time he’d just go outside and jerk off where no one would ever catch him.

[thestarkerisobvious]

The Man Who Inherits The Spellbooks

inspired by @starker-sorbet​        

A snugglefic for @mrstarksbabyy​

With great thanks for the betaread by @mrstarksbabyy

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

It took three nights for Tony to recover from feasting on Mr. Lovelace’s sickness.  They met every night in dreams, holding each other and talking.  As far as  Peter was concerned, he could spend the rest of his life like that, snuggled in Tony’s arms, legs intertwined, skin to skin.  Nothing embarrassed him in dreams.  In dreams, those things didn’t matter.

In real life, Peter hid his erection by angling his body away from Tony, or by turning around completely and bunching up the covers.  When Tony fed, Peter’s stiffening cock, just like the rest of his body, simply relaxed.

But in dreams, Tony made a much more practical suggestion. 

“It is sweet,” Tony crooned, his fingers playing with the hem of Peter’s boxers.  “It is your light.  It is more nourishing than tears, more nourishing than fear.  Like the sweat of your brow, like the touch of your skin, like the warmth of your mouth…”  He kissed Peter, his tongue slipping inside as demonstration.  “It would feed me, Master.  It would heal me.  It would make me strong for you…” 

Peter really couldn’t argue with that logic.  Not while Tony was struggling to recover from saving Peter’s family from Mr. Lovelace.  Tony was still thin and drawn in the dreams where they met, all because Peter had sent him out to fight Mr. Lovelace without specifically saying “And don’t eat up all his cancer while you’re there.”  

Besides, Tony could be very convincing.  And his mouth was so 

perfect; warm and skillful.  Just greedy enough to make Peter feel wanted, just gentle enough to make Peter feel safe.  And Tony’s strong hands, holding him so firmly as he gave himself over to the release, became so tender and soothing when it was over.   

And in the morning, there was no evidence that it had been that kind of dream.  And that kind of dream, Uncle Ben had assured him, was perfectly natural, no matter what the First Devil’s church said.  Peter wasn’t supposed to worry about it.  

So he didn’t.

Peter was so happy dreaming, he never wanted to get out of bed.  He, May and Ben took several days off after the DeSlaughters called them, explaining how they had given Mr. Lovelace a 6 am ride to the hospital.  But those two days were dull, Tony-less days, days of endless interviews with police (now that it was clear Sheriff Bentley’s cousin had brain cancer, they were far more interested in acknowledging all the crazy stuff he had done BEFORE he had tried to visit Peter’s family in the middle of the night with his service pistol in his hand and his 44 tucked into his waistband) and endless visits from Neighbors Bearing Casseroles.  Aunt May explained that, with Mrs. Lovelace being dead and Mr. Lovelace dying in a hospital, the citizens of Devil’s Holler were desperate to complete the Ritual of Casserole with someone.  The DeSlaughters had it worse, casseroles filling up their refrigerator and the freezer in the garage.  The two families ate together every night for a week; great feasts around the Post dinner table as they diligently tried to consume all the food their neighbors had burdened them with.  Peter couldn’t complain – it was hard to complain when you were presented with multiple desserts every night.  He consumed calories dutifully, knowing he was also feeding Tony.  

Finally Tony emerged from under the bed, healthy and strong.  His hair and short-cropped beard were jet-black again, his handsome face carefree.   “Where did these come from?” Peter teased, running his hands over newly formed muscles on Tony’s upper arms, almost as thick as Peter’s own.  He felt a flutter in his stomach as Tony wrapped those strong arms around him to feed, molding their bodies together.

After he fed, Tony held Peter close and explained how he had been instructed to remove tumors from the body as early as the monastery days.  They made him stronger, far stronger than feeding on farm animals, although it took time and “light” before the poison itself was neutralized.  It was an ancient magic that was inherent to his summoning, something he did on instinct, without waiting for orders or even permission.  

“Wait, are you saying you could… is that how Evan Post lived to be so old?  You can cure cancer?”

“Cure?  No.  I do not ‘cure.’  I consume.  Pain is mine to consume, and some krebsartig.  Not all.  There were spells for injuries, the loss of blood, the loss of a limb.  When tasked I could lie down with my charge…”  Here he began pressing his body to Peter’s again, but Peter turned around and pressed his back to Tony’s chest, angling his potential erection the other way.  What Tony did with his mouth was for dreams only.

“…I would persuade the heart to continue beating, long after it longs to cease.  I can prevail upon the lungs…”  He ran strong hands up both sides of Peter’s chest.  “To continue to move.  The brainpan,” he combed tender fingers through Peter’s hair ”to keep it’s light, long after the light wished to depart.  Oh, I can do this for a very long while, when I am strong enough…”

“So you could… if anything happened to Uncle Ben or Aunt May…even though they aren’t Posts… but if they had cancer you could…”

“I am yours,” Tony murmured, kissing the back of Peter’s hands.  “You called me, you named me.  I serve you now, and because they are yours, I serve them.”

“And I could… could I send you into a hospital?  If I did could you…”

“Strangers are more difficult, strangers require the spellbooks.  Mayhap a good, fat swine.  Maybe two…”

“Mr. Lovelace wasn’t a stranger?”

“Philip Lovelace trod upon my covenant ground.” Tony’s growl against the center of Peter’s back covered his arms in gooseflesh.  “His entire body was forfeit to me.  I could have consumed his flesh and left nothing but dust in the road, but my most gentle Master…”  he kissed skin between Peter’s shoulder blades.  “…has forbidden me thus.”

“But you cured his cancer.  I mean you didn’t cure it, it’s all over his body and he’s still dying from it but… but you were taking away his tumors even as you were trying to make him too sick to walk all the way to our house.  I’m not… you did very well,” he said firmly, putting his hand solidly on Tony’s chest.  “You did very well.  You were brilliant.  But you were right, he was far too used to ignoring pain for our strategy to work.  And your Tall Man vision was just beautiful, but he was too crazy to care.  Given how long he was willing to stand there and talk to you.  I can’t imagine anything you could have shown him was scary enough to compete with what was going on in his own diseased head.  Making him think he was going in the wrong direction over and over again, that was brilliant.  It was perfect.  You did well, Tony.  Thank you.

“I just wish… if only you could have told me what was happening, I could have helped you.  Laying down in the middle of our road would have been fine, no one was going to run over him there at 3 in the morning.  And I still would have fed you, you could have eaten all his tumors after you knew he wasn’t walking anywhere.”  He smiled and stroked Tony’s hair.  “And if he had just gone to sleep, I know you would have convinced him to just go to the hospital.  You could have convinced him to do anything.  You’re the dreammaster.”

Tony glowed under the praise, nuzzling his head into Peter’s hand.

That gave Peter an idea.

“Tony, were you… you were… were you a cat that night?  At the door?  It was so late at night I can hardly remember.”

“When I came to the doorstep, yes.  Small, ugly things are easy.  They take little strength.  Being a handsome man for you, that takes nourishment…” he said slyly, slipping the two fingers of Peter’s left hand into his mouth.

Peter let him feed.  He was still sitting on the bed, thinking.  “If you could be… if you were a cat you could have come into the house.  You could have sat next to Aunt May and feed on all her fear and that would have given you the strength you needed to do what you did on the road.:”

“Cats aren’t allowed in the house.”

“What… what?!”

Tony had mumbled the words around Peter’s fingers in his mouth, and Peter couldn’t believe he had heard them right.

“Why did you say that?” Peter said, suddenly pulling his fingers out of his friend’s mouth.  “I never told you that.”

“It’s the Mistress’ rule,” Tony said humbly. 

Peter’s mouth opened, but nothing came out.  He stared at Tony, speechless.

“Cats are not allowed in the house,” was the rule.  It was Aunt May’s rule.  Although Peter had never told Tony that.

Then again, “If it has a name, it is a pet,” was Uncle Ben’s rule, and Peter wasn’t sure he had ever told Tony that either.

“Tony, are you following Ben and May’s rules too?”

“They are the Master and the Mistress of the house,” Tony said quietly, calmly, as if explaining things to a stubborn child.  “They sleep in the Master Bedroom…”

“…where the Patriarch and Matriarch of the family sleep, that’s why it’s called the ‘Master Bedroom’ not because it has a bathroom attached, they told us that when we bought the house,” Peter said, rocked by the revelation.  His head was spinning.  When the realtor was giving them the “Full Disclosure,” which meant explaining where Evan Post’s body had been found in the house, they had described the Post tradition of the leader of the family being announced by who slept in the ‘Master Bedroom.’  The realtor described how, in the Post family, the title of “Patriarch” was NOT passed down, always, from father to son, but sometimes from brother to brother, and occasionally from father to Man Chosen By Daughter.  What he was describing, Peter later learned, was the man who inherits the spellbooks, the man who had the ultimate control of Tony.

“Tony…” Peter said, trying to speak coherently despite the new turbulence in his brain.

“It is… it is good that you… I’m glad that you are going to take care of Aunt May and Uncle Ben.  That’s a good thing.  But Tony?  If either one of them ever says something that starts with “I Wish” you cannot do it unless you ask me first.  No fulfilling wishes… or letting them task you to do something, without asking me first.  And even I can’t task you to do something without using the formula…”

“Aunt May doesn’t want you to watch those naughty shows on the new channels…”

“Stop!”  Peter’s back was turned, but he whipped around now and put his fingers on Tony’s lips.  Just the words “the new channels” sent a guilty thrill through his entire body.

“I know what Aunt May thinks, but I’m the boss of you… I mean… I mean we’re friends, right?”  Tony didn’t even seem to be paying attention.  He was kissing and licking Peter’s fingertips and looking content.

“Besides, I’m nearly 17 and I think I’m at least “Master” of what I see on HBO…”

“You are my master.  You called me.  You named me.  You feed me…”  He gave a lurid smile and took Peter’s entire pointer finger into his mouth and began sucking obscenely.

“Stop, you don’t even feed from that one,” Peter said giggling, pulling his hand away and drying it on the sheets.  Tony moaned and reached for Peter’s hand, but his look was playful.  Peter shook his head.  He had let Tony suck on his fingers for so long it seemed perfectly normal, but just now he was remembering other things Tony could do with his mouth…

“Tony, quit, I’m trying to tell you something very important.  Listen,” Peter said, scolding a little, keeping his hands behind his back.

“I really, really, just-say-nojoke, for serious, really really mean this.  May and Ben don’t know you exist.  When they start talking about what they want or what they wish they aren’t talking to you.  If you get any ideas about doing something for them you must come to me first. 

“I mean it Tony,” Peter continued as he finally gave his hand back to Tony, who kept inching toward it.  “If Aunt May says ‘I wish that horrible man in the White House would just die’ you can’t go making any trips to D.C.  Do you understand?”

“Is the White House still 12 leagues west, 88 and one half-league south?”  he asked carelessly, scraping his beard across the back of Peter’s fingers.

Peter’s mouth opened and closed, but no sounds came out.  

“Two leagues east of Little Island on the Potomac River?”

He smiled slyly at Peter’s reaction.

“I know the way.”

Peter’s jaw hung open.

“Do Woodrow Wilson’s sons still rule the Americas?  Nay… nay t’would be his grandsons…”

“Tony…”

“I know where they sleep…” Tony said with a wicked grin and began kissing Peter’s fingertips one by one. 

“Tony.”  Peter forced the words through his slack jaw, his dry mouth.  “Who showed you to how to journey to the White House?”

“Jedediah Post.”

“The stock market genius… oh god.  Tony…?  Tony could you… can you make people dream things, and then they might do the thing…”  Peter stopped and tried again.  Suddenly his brain was buzzing with possibilities.

“Tony, can you actually use dreams to make people do things they really, really don’t want to do?”

Tony was clearly irritated at this line of questioning.  He dropped Peter’s hand and scooted away on the bed, one arm tucked under his head.  But his eyes were looking up, which meant he was thinking about the question.

After a few moments he said “The Post Patriarchs dreamed about burning the books upon their death.  Dreamed of it over and over.  For three generations, they dreamed of it.”

“But only Evan Post actually did it for you,” Peter concluded.  Tony shrugged.  Then grinned.

“Alright, that answers my question.  That’s… that’s some amazing power you got there.  But it’s important you remember; Aunt May wishes death to politicians on a regular basis, so don’t take it seriously…”

“I can only travel that far if I am fed…”  Tony said, smiling again, sneaking one hand to Peter’s waist, then lower.

“I told you, that’s just for dreams,” Peter said, pushing his hand away.  He didn’t want to have this argument again, so he tried to change the subject.

“Now please answer this question – if cats were allowed in the house, could you be a cat inside the house and be somewhere else at the same time?  It would be a very helpful thing if you could do that… what?”

Tony’s playful look had gone.  He sighed heavily and sat up, pulling his hand away from Peter’s body.  He reached out to touch a place on Peter’s chest, a place just below Peter’s left nipple, but dropped his hand again.

“What?”

Tony did not speak.

Peter put his hands on both sides of Tony’s head and looked him directly in the eye.  “Tony, I really, really, just-say-nojoke, seriously...”

“It will hurt you,” Tony said very softly.

“No.  It won’t… it won’t hurt to tell me. 

“Just give me the information,” Peter said gently.  “Information doesn’t hurt.”

Tony looked up at him warily.  His face was younger, but his eyes were still infinitely old.  He shook his head.  He clearly disagreed. 

[solynaceawrites]

Wires [2]: Defensive Wounds

Rating: Mature Archive Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence, Major Character Death Categories: F/F, F/M Fandom: Devil May Cry Relationships: Dante/Original Female Character(s), Implied Nero/Kyrie, Implied Vergil/Original Female Character(s), Implied Lady/Trish, Dante/Lirael Thorne, Dante/Lir Characters: Dante, Morrison, Nero, Original Female Character(s), Lirael Thorne, Lir Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Detectives, Violence, Gore, Dark, Horror, Supernatural Elements, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Serial Killers, Angst, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut Summary: In Red Grave City, a serial killer stalks the streets. Lirael Thorne, recently transferred from Fortuna and looking for an escape from her past, winds up on his trail. Hunting him with her veteran partner, Dante Redgrave, they try to piece together the wires that bind the three of them together. In a race to catch him before he leaves more victims in his wake, the things thought buried will come to the surface, tearing lives and comfort apart.

»»————-　⚜　————-««

“Agonies are one of my changes of garments, I do not ask the wounded person how he feels, I myself become the wounded person, My hurts turn livid upon me as I lean on a cane and observe.” — Walt Whitman

»»————-　⚜　————-««

The morgue is cool and quiet, gleaming metal polished to a shine that sends little daggers of light into Lir’s eyes. She gives herself a moment to adjust, listening to the faint tic tic tic of the freezers, fingering the bottle of aspirin in her pocket while she waits to see if the subtle pressure in her skull is going to shift from discomfort to agony. Next to the door is a desk, with a state of the art computer, a few files, a cup full of pens, and a half-drunk cup of coffee with lipstick on the rim; beyond that, there is another door, one that probably leads to a storage room, two walls of cold lockers in four rows of four, and two x-ray displays on the final wall. In the center of the room are three slabs. On one of them is the Jane Doe, covered respectfully with a sheet, her eyes closed to give her an expression of peace. At her side is Trish, her blonde hair pulled into a knot at the top of her head and her face partially obscured by a sterile mask that she tugs down on Lir’s approach.

“Thorne,” she greets cheerfully. “You here for the autopsy report?” Lir nods, and Trish beckons her closer. “You’re right on time. Just got done with our guest.”

Lir isn’t sure what to make of having a corpse called a guest. Gallows humor, she supposes. “What can you tell me about her?”

“She suffered, that’s for certain.” Trish turns on the light over the slab and pulls it down, illuminating the Jane Doe with a grisly, fluorescent white that turns her already dead pallor a sickly blue-gray. Then she pulls the sheet down, and Lir is suddenly, incredibly grateful that she hasn’t eaten yet, the bile in her throat bitter but weak. “The throat and abdominal trauma was all perimortem. She was alive, but not struggling, when our killer cut her open. Judging from the tissue damage, looks like the throat happened first, but it was ultimately shock and blood loss that killed her.”

“She was alive for the whole thing?”

“Mm-hm. Though I don’t know how aware of it she was. I don’t have the toxicology report yet—that will take a little longer to run, sorry—but pupil dilation is indicative of intoxication. Judging from the depth of the gash here,” Trish points to Jane Doe’s throat, “it was more to keep her quiet than kill her. She would have bled out from that alone eventually if no one found her first, but it doesn’t go through bone. The hesitation marks at the edges make me think he was more . . . Well, there’s no easy way to say this. Probably sawed through her.”

Lir tries to picture it, being too strung out or drunk to defend herself, being helpless while some maniac slashed her throat and cut her open like a butcher. From the corner of her eye, she catches sight of a red dress and pale hair and holds her breath, counting to ten until it fades, then asks, “You said at the scene there weren’t any defensive wounds.”

“That’s right. And there aren’t. No blood or tissue under her nails, no bruising or scrapes or cuts to show that she tried to fight back.” Trish sighs, lifting the sheet back over Jane Doe before tugging off her gloves. “Whoever this is, they’re one sick puppy.”

“Yeah.” Photographs on the wall catch her attention, and Lir walks over to study them closely. They’re all from the crime scene, some of little bits of evidence next to their markers, others of the victim, and it’s the latter she really looks at. “Does that pendant have any religious connotations?”

“You’d have to check. Why?”

“I just thought she looks kind of like an angel.”

Trish comes to stand next to her, her expression grave. “You know, I had the same idea.”

They stand in a heavy silence, the clock on the wall ticking loudly until Lir sighs. She bids farewell to Trish, who promises to have the full report to her by the end of the day, and takes the elevator back up to the bullpen. Dante will no doubt want to know what she’s learned, but she finds that she doesn’t quite want to tell him. Something about this all is nagging her, tugging the thin strands of her memory with an urgency, look, look, you’ve seen this before, even though she’s fairly certain that she never has. Was there a similar case in Fortuna? So lost in wracking her thoughts she nearly runs right into Simmons as she steps off the elevator, and she mumbles an apology and returns to her desk, where she boots up the computer, hunting for a notepad and a pen while she waits for it to finish loading.

A cup of coffee thudding next to her elbow has her peering up. Dante sits back down, a cup of his own in his hand that he raises to her before he takes a sip. His face screws up in disgust. “Fuck. No matter how long I’m here, coffee still tastes like shit. What’d Trish say?”

“That we’d have the full report soon,” Lir replies. She finds what she was looking for and logs into the terminal. “Victim was slaughtered like livestock and left to die. Too something to even try to save her own life.”

“That all?” 

She’s aware of his gaze, critical and assessing on her, and it makes her skin flush unpleasantly. “Until toxicology comes back.”

With a nod, he leans back in his seat. “Alright. What are your thoughts?”

Now you want to know? she nearly asks. Rubbing her temples, she replies instead, “Our guy is bold. A nightclub on one side, a bar on the other, people coming and going at all hours? Not to mention, he had to have been familiar with the location to avoid the security camera, if he did. Speaking of, is that footage here yet?” Dante shakes his head. “Right. Okay. So, Jane Doe was probably at one of the two places. Why risk dragging her any farther than that? And he had to get her to go with him somehow. A knife or a gun would have been too obvious, even for a crowded bar.”

“Could’ve posed as a hook-up,” Dante suggests.

“Mm. If she wasn’t drunk, he might have drugged her.”

“Drugs?”

“Her pupils were blown.”

“So,” he says slowly, “we’ve got a bold, possibly attractive killer who goes to bars to pick up women. Think he knew the vic?”

Lir realizes suddenly that he’s testing her, digging to see her worth, and it makes her angry all over again. “No, too risky. He’s got balls, but he’s not an idiot. All this planning, all the care he took, he wouldn’t want to leave any trace of himself, and that means he was probably a stranger and he picked her out when he got there. If it hadn’t been her, it would have been someone else.”

“Opportunistic. Well, shit. Means he’s gonna be a bitch to find.” He offers her a crooked grin that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Want to flip a coin to see who’s givin’ Morrison the news?”

“You do it. I need to look for something.”

Dante frowns then, but the expression is quickly smothered as he stands. He takes his coffee with him into Morrison’s office; once the door is closed firmly behind him, Lir releases a sigh and slumps in her chair, cradling her head in her hands. This was meant to be a new beginning for her. Get out of Fortuna, away from the good-intentioned but condescending men she worked with, leave the bitter break-up and the cramped apartment behind her to set out in the bigger city. Yet here she is, dealing with condescending men, living in an apartment that’s large enough to feel empty, with a killer that she knows she has an infinitesimally small chance of catching on her hands. Maybe I’ll get a cat, she thinks, and then discards it. She’s going to be too busy to give any pet the love it would deserve.

Lir pulls up the database and enters her credentials, watching the wheel spin as the program decides whether or not she’s allowed in. Once it opens, she navigates to the search bar, where she types evisceration, hoping the term will be narrow enough to ping any cases that might have been similar. All she gets are animal cruelty cases, youths torturing cats and dogs, and she groans. Next is religious, but that doesn’t get her anything other than some fraud. Jane Doe is too broad, while trying by location only gets her arrests for petty theft, assault, and drunk and disorderlies. Her fingers drum on her desk as she thinks; maybe, if whatever it is that she thinks she remembers was before her time in the force, it would have been before they started digitizing their records. 

Which would mean figuring out the location and then digging through that city’s physical files.

She pinches the bridge of her nose. Most of what she said to Dante was speculation, and she knows that they’re going to spend at least a week trying to identify their victim and looking for anyone who might have seen her, tracking down friends and acquaintances and ex-boyfriends to see if any of them had the fury and the cruelty needed to butcher someone like that. If they’re lucky, she’ll have gotten into some sort of trouble with the law and there will be prints they can match. If they’re unlucky, it’s beating the streets, shoving her photograph in people’s faces to try and jar their memory.

“Detective?” Lir opens her eyes to find Simmons standing next to her, a USB stick in his hand. “The nightclub owner sent this over. Said it’s all the footage from the last twenty-four hours and you wanted it?”

He sounds uncertain, and she forces herself to smile. “Yeah, thanks. While I’ve got you here, can I ask a favor?” Hesitantly, he nods. “Head down to the morgue to get the victim’s prints from Trish and run ‘em, will you? It’s a long shot, but it might help us figure out who she is.”

Simmons doesn’t look like he finds the idea appealing, but he gives a weak salute and heads down the stairs. Lir watches him until he disappears into the elevator, and then she plugs the USB into her computer and opens the files to scroll through it. Twenty-four hours of hopefully unaltered footage stored in four hour chunks which, when she clicks on the first video to play it, turn out to be monochrome and grainy. She fights through the urge to yank her hair, instead getting up and going to grab a fresh cup of coffee from the canteen. After a moment of hesitation, she takes the entire pot, setting a second one to brew; this is going to be an all-nighter for sure, and the only thing that’s going to get her through it is enough caffeine to make her jittery.

Dante is back at his desk when she returns. He arches a brow at the sight of her with the pot, but that turns into a loud groan as she says, “Footage got here. All twenty-four hours worth. Want to grab a seat?”

“There’s a meeting room we can use,” he mutters. “Bigger screen. Grab it and let’s go. Is that all the coffee?”

“For now.”

His long-suffering sigh draws an unwilling smile from her. Dante leads her down a hallway to a room mostly taken up by a large oval table surrounded by plush leather chairs, and he sinks into one as she sets up the monitor on the wall and gets the USB situated. “Ready?”

“Not really.”

“Tough shit.” She chuckles and presses play.

Hours pass as they work through both the footage and the coffee, pausing only when they catch sight of a pale-haired woman before slumping back in disappointment and carrying on. Morrison stops by once to check on them, then Simmons with the news that the prints were a dead end, and finally Trish with her full report, toxicology included. None of them linger for more than a few minutes at most. Dante and Lir alternate bathroom breaks and coffee runs, neither of them willing to stop the tape until it’s done. Like ripping a bandaid off, she thinks at one point, stifling a yawn before taking a large swig of her lukewarm coffee. Get it over with in one go, no hesitation. 

It’s just passed four in the morning when Dante lurches in his seat. “Pause it, pause it!” Lir jumps, pressing quickly on the remote, and he squints. “Rewind it a bit. There, stop, stop. Press play.”

“What is—oh!” She scrambles for the file on the table, flipping it open so she can see the picture of Jane Doe clipped to the inside. Pulling it free, she holds it up, glancing between it and the screen. “It’s her.”

“Mm. Looks like . . .” He leans forward, his eyes narrowed as his lips move silently. “Two?”

Lir blinks, then turns her laugh into a rough cough. “No. It’s, uh . . . It’s 3:37.”

Dante scowls at her as he reaches into the pocket of his vest to pull out a pair of square glasses, the style just as noir as his clothing. He perches them on his nose, then nods. “Yeah. Alright. So our victim walked into the club at 3:37 am. Since her body was found at quarter to eight, means there’s a five hour window for our killer to have found her and pulled her into the alley.”

“That’s if you don’t remove however long she was in the bar and the killer leaving,” Lir points out.

He clicks his tongue. “Don’t be a wiseass, Thorne. It’s not cute.”

“I’m not here to be cute,” she replies irritably. 

“Shame.” Just as she’s debating dumping her coffee on him, he asks, “There a way to print this? We’ll take it with her autopsy photo and show it to the staff at the club, see if any of ‘em remember her. Maybe she paid with a credit card, which’d give us a name.”

“You plannin’ to sleep tonight?” she asks dryly.

“Sleep when you’re dead, Thorne. Print and let’s go.”

Biting her tongue, she heads back to the computer attached to the monitor and screenshots the frozen video. Once it’s in her hands, the two of them head out back, where the employee lot is, and Dante leads her to a car that she recognizes from her childhood. Her mouth drops open as she takes in the ‘58 Corvette, the same type her father had often talked dreamily of owning when he retired, the black paint and white cut-outs glossy in the early dawn light. The top is closed against the dew, but she can still make the red leather interior, and she laughs incredulously when Dante unlocks it. “Seriously?”

“You can take a cab if you like,” he replies tightly.

Lir closes her mouth and climbs in, looking around curiously. The seats are incredibly comfortable, and it doesn’t seem like Dante has done any upgrading to it at all: the gearshift is still topped by a clean white knob, and the only source of sound is the radio, the knob of which Dante turns until classical rock filters softly through the speakers. A good car is like a good woman, her father had told her two months before his death, holding her in his lap as he pointed to the yellowed magazine, treat her right and she’ll stick with you for life. She’d put the damned ad in his casket before they buried him, and Lir closes her eyes against both the unwelcome sting of tears and the sight of him with his misshapen head on the silk pillow. Botched robbery, her mother said tearfully. Throat closed with sudden grief, just as sharp as it had been then, Lir hardly notices when they pull away from the curb.

“She’s beautiful,” she whispers.

Dante’s startled silence is the only reply she gets.

[ot5ismyhome]

Bloodbound Chapter 21- Vulture

After Steve left, a car stopped in front of Rogers Innovative. Adrian Toomes got out of the car and walked into the building. The security guard stopped him at the entrance. Adrian tried to push past him but the guard resisted.

“Move or you will regret” he said. “Davis” he added looking at name batch on his shirt. His fangs descended and he growled at the guard to threaten him.

Davis shook his head dramatically as he bared his own fangs and smirked at Adrian. The two vampires took off fighting. Toomes delivered punches after punches but Davis was quick in deflecting it. He punched Toomes in his stomach which he retorted by kicking the Davis in his shins. When he went down, Toomes stomped his feet into his knees cracking the bone. Davis let out a howl in pain. Adrian continued towards the elevator. He got in and pressed the button for Steve’s floor.

Davis was lying on the floor in pain. He got his radio out and spoke into it. “Piper are you there?”

“Yes, you big dumb baby.”

“There is an intruder. Get the kids to safety”

Piper and Pietro had just entered Steve’s office. Piper alerted the others and led them to the private elevator in the office. They used it to reach the blood storage room behind the stairs which only few knew about. They ran across the lobby towards the exit. Piper saw Davis on the floor clutching his knee. She helped him stand up by taking most of his weight. She heard Wanda calling her name and looked up. She noticed that they were surrounded by five thugs from Rumlow’s clan.

“To the parking lot. NOW” Coulson shouted as the group moved away from the main entrance towards elevator. Toomes stepped out of the elevator and blocked their path.

“That leaves us no other option than to stand and fight” said Coulson as he took a gun from his shoulder holster and shot the five vampires in their head. “This will keep them down. They can’t heal unless the bullets are taken out.”

“I want one of that when we get back to base” Pietro commented.

Toomes ran towards them and Coulson fired his last bullet. It missed Toomes by just an inch and shattered the statue behind him. Before they reached the elevator, Adrian caught Pietro. He took a stake out of his coat and pressed the tip to Pietro’s chest. The others stood still calculating their move.

“Don’t think of anything. One wrong move the kid will turn to ash” he threatened.

“Okay… Okay we will do as you say” offered Wanda.

“Don’t worry. I will be fine” Pietro consoled her.

“Stop talking” Toomes strangled him with his free hand. He turned to the others, “Don’t try to stop me.”

The others didn’t move a muscle as Toomes took Pietro as hostage and walked out. He rendered Pietro unconscious with a hit to his head; pushed him into the trunk of his car and drove away.

Piper looked at the vampires lying on the floor. “Let’s move before more of Rumlow’s men come here.” She rubbed Wanda’s shoulder, “We will find Pietro.” Wanda nodded.

Davis was still whining in pain. Piper collected blood packets from the freezer and distributed it to Davis and Howard. Davis eagerly plunged his teeth into the packet and drank large gulps. He could feel him bones repairing. He will gain his strength back in no time.

“I don’t need it. You guys are hurt, you should have it.” declined Howard.

“Have it. There is enough for everyone and we need everyone to their full strength.”

Howard accepted the blood bag. While the three vampires were feeding, Wanda walked to the opposite side of the lobby and stood staring at the paintings on the wall. Coulson walked a bit further way from the group and called Steve. The call went directly to voicemail. He tried calling Tony but he was out of reach. Coulson sighed and looked at the others.

“Mr. Rogers is not picking the phone. Stark is out of reach” he announced.

“There is only one other person who could help us, if he wants to” Wanda said. The others looked at her expectantly. Wanda uttered two words, “Bucky Barnes.”

Davis face lit up in recognition. He pointed to the granite, “This dead guy.”

“Apparently he isn’t dead anymore. Things have changed in vampire town.”

“Why does he know more about us than us?” Davis looked puzzled.

“Job requirements” Coulson smiled. “I’m going to do one thing my mentor asked me not to” he added with a wince.

Coulson drove them to the outskirts of the city passing the inhabited houses. Even though there were no residents the neighbourhood looked to be a decent place.

“Where are we going?” questioned Howard looking out of the window. He had one hand around Wanda and the other was fidgeting the hem of his shirt.

“I think this is the place” replied Coulson nonchalantly.

Howard and Davis rolled their eyes but decided to keep shut. Finally, Coulson pulled out of a house and got out. The others followed him to the doorstep. Coulson rang the bell. A bald man, wearing an eye patch answered the door. Seeing Coulson, he sighed.

“You had one job” he spat. “What was it?”

“To never contact you again”

“Hey, you remember that” Fury replied with sarcasm dripping with every word. “You not only disobeyed a direct order, you bought five people with you”

“What? There is only-”

Without further explanation, Fury pulled a gun from under his coat and pointed directly at the tree opposite to the house.

“There is no escaping me. Come out” he barked.

*****

Sam had arrived at the terrace opposite to the Rogers Innovative to his spy post. He had expected to meet Bucky who had gone to spy on Steve and hadn’t reported back. When Sam tried to reach him, he was out of range. But seeing no struggle or anything out of ordinary at the post he resumed his duty. He hadn’t given much thought when Adrian Toomes went into the building. Sam knew he had to intervene when he heard the bullet sound followed by the blonde kid being dragged out. He made an attempt to follow Toomes’ car but missed it before he could get down from the roof. Few minutes later, he saw another car racing out of the building. He had decided to follow it.

On his way, Sam conveyed the situation to his friends. He followed the car to the outskirts of the city. Lincoln was the first to respond. He had managed to get hold of Bucky and they went to the Rogers Innovative to inspect the scene.

Everything was going fine, until Sam had got caught. He had thought of running away but the enhanced bullet that Lincoln found inside the skull of Rumlow’s men made him think twice. Sam lifted his hand above his head and walked out from behind the tree.

“Who is this dude?” Davis whispered to Howard who shrugged being as lost as Davis was.

Fury spoke, "Are you going to tell me what happened or are we waiting for four bad guys with guns?"

"It's more like bad guys with fangs." Coulson filled in on Fury what happened in the Rogers Innovative after Steve had left.

“This guy will take you to him” Fury said tilting his head towards Sam.

“At least lower the gun now, man” Sam winced dramatically.

“Now, everyone get out of my property” he said. He bent down and picked up the cat that was brushing against his legs. “Come on goose, we gotta pack now.” The cat meowed back in response. “Yeah, yeah I know. Just now we unpacked. Tell this to that knucklehead” with those words the man disappeared into his house.

“Yeah” Coulson shrugged. “That’s what he calls me when he gets over fond of me” he said his friends.

“It’s time to pay White Wolf a visit” Coulson said looking expectantly at Sam. Sam wouldn’t have wanted to associate himself with other’s problems but he wasn’t able to turn them down. The group drove to outer part of the city and stopped in an abandoned amusement park. Sam parked his bike and walked to the small security building; the others followed. He knocked the door.

A man opened the speakeasy grate, seeing Sam he opened the door. Normally, he wouldn’t have opened if anyone was accompanied by outsiders. But Sam is Barnes’ right-hand man. It’s better to let Barnes deal with it he thought.

Bucky arrived as soon as he heard about the group, waiting to see him. Seeing their state, he took them into his den.

He turned to Sam, “What’s going on? Why are they here?”

Coulson filled him on what happened after Steve left for hearing. Bucky pondered over his thoughts for quite some time but finally agreed to help.

…..

The van rolled into the factory which was located outside the city. Rumlow’s men dragged them out of the van and took them to the execution room. As they were pushed inside, they noticed that someone was already there. A chair was placed in the centre and a woman was tied to it.

“Natasha” Steve shouted seeing his friend. She lifted her head slowly and look at him. Her eyes looked tired and shallow and it was clear she hadn’t fed for long. A fresh cut was on her temple and blood ran down the side of her face dripping from it into her lap. There was a deep cut on her lips which was swollen. A gash ran across her right shoulder till her elbow. Her knuckles were soaked in blood and small bruised littered her arm. Steve mentally scolded himself for not organising a search party for her. She had been here for a day and he felt like it was his fault.

[squishyeth]

cam girl [g.d] au

SUMMARY: Y/n is the shy girl. Grayson Dolan is the most popular boy. What happens when Grayson finds out that the cam girl he’s been chatting with is the  girl that he sees everyday.

WARNING: sexual content (masturbation-male, p&v penetration, fingering), graphic language

NOTES: italics are flashbacks

WORD COUNT: 3.5k

*I DO NOT OWN ANY GIFS*

“You’re so sexy, Mistress.” Sexyboi69 moaned out as he was stroking his length. I continued to dance seductively.

“Are you going to cum?” I said, biting my lips and shaking my ass a little. With that, I see the white liquid spurt out and his loud moan fills the room.

“That was my best orgasm yet.” Sexyboi69 complimented as he cleaned his hand with a towel.

“Same time as tomorrow?” I asked, sitting on the edge of my bed.

“Of course” he replied, with a thumbs up. I can’t see his face, but from the sound of his voice, he’s probably smiling; smirking even. The call ended and my phone dinged. I lifted up my cat mask to see it was from venmo.

‘Sexyboi69 paid KittyMistress $300 for a good time ;)’

CURRENT DAY

Y/N’s POV

I sat in the back of English, doodling as the teacher rambles on about her personal life that no one seems to care about. When I begin shading in the kitty’s ears, the bell rings. 

“Don’t forget to read chapter 13 and be ready to discuss it tomorrow!” Mrs. Allen said as everybody was packing up their bags and leaving. I put my sketchbook away and beginning zipping up my backpack. I got up and made my way out of the class. I saw Grayson holding the door open because he was a little bit in front of me.

“Thank you” I said quietly and as I walked away, I heard a faint you’re welcome. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t have a crush on him. Hell, everybody does. Grayson and Ethan Dolan are the most popular boys in this shit hole of a school. They have every girl swooning over them. I just particularly like Grayson more. I’ve had a crush on Grayson since 7th grade. He has just never noticed me because we don’t come from the same “clique.”

LATER THAT DAY

I put on my cat mask I got from a Halloween store a few months back. That’s when I became a cam girl. I do it for the money because my family struggles with paying bills. They don’t know that I’m on an adult site or else they will lose it. All my parents know is that I babysit some kid who lives down the street. I post free videos on the site, but I charge for personal videos or a skype session. My most popular client is Sexyboi69. He only shows his crotch area, but I don’t mind because I never show my face. Speaking of, my skype went off and Sexyboi69 showed up on the laptop screen. I hit accept.

“Hey” I innocently said, sitting crossed leg on my bed.

“HI, Mistress.” He said, waving to the camera.

“How are you?” I asked, biting my lip. 

“Eh, school stresses me out nothing new” He replied, “Just need a release” He finished, stroking his hard on. It turned me on, but I don’t touch myself on camera. I save that for my alone time. 

“And that’s where I come in!” I replied, with a giggle; standing up.

“Would you consider taking off the mask just this once?” He asked. I froze in place and before I could react, I slammed the laptop shut.

‘Sexyboi69 paid KittyMistress $500 I’m sorry :(’

THE NEXT DAY

I sat in my usual spot, in the back. I don’t have many friends. That’s a lie, I have no friends. 

“Quiet down!” The teacher said loudly, snapping her fingers like we’re dogs. 

“Okay, I’m going to explain the final project for Taming of the Shrew and it’s a partnered project” she explained and everyone cheered, except me, I internally groaned. “Except I’m picking the partners.” She finished to which now made everybody groaned. I’m eh on this; at least I don’t have to do the picking. She started pairing the class until she got to me and the one person I did not want to work with is

“Grayson, you’ll be partnered with Y/n.” She said 

‘Fuck’ I mouthed, keeping my eyes glued to my sketchbook.

“Man, I wanted the smart one.” One guy shouted, which resulted in the class to laugh. Great, just because I’m quiet, everybody thinks I’m Einstein. Everybody scatters around to their respective work partner and I stay seated; he’s going to have to come to me because I am not getting up.

“Hey” I hear a male voice say. I look up to see it’s Grayson.

“Hi” I quietly reply. He seats in the desk in front of me.

“Did you draw this?” He asked, pointing at the cat girl. I nodded.

“It’s really good, I like it!” He replied, smiling.

“Thanks” I mumbled with a small smile.

“So about the project” he stated, “We could go to my house, but my parents don’t trust me enough to bring someone over so do you have anywhere we could go to work together?” he asked. 

“My parent’s don’t come home until like 8 so we could work at my house?” I suggested quietly, trying not to make a lot of eye contact.

“That will work! Do you drive?” He asked, I shook my head “bus” I stated.

“Not today.” He replied with a smile.

LATER THAT DAY

We pulled up my driveway and Grayson turns the car off and we both get out and walk across the dead grass.

“Your house is, nice” he hesitated to say. If old and torn down is nice then thanks I guess. I know he’s just trying to make small talk, but no talk would be better. I unlocked the front door and walked in, locking the door once Grayson was in. 

“My room is the first door on the right,” I explained “Do you want some water?” I asked

“Yes please” He replied with a smile and made his way down the hall. I went into the kitchen and grabbed the ice trays from the freezer. After I filled two cups with ice water, I made my way to my room. When I entered my room, I saw Grayson sitting on my bed, holding my cat mask with furrowed eyebrows. I panicked and dropped the cups. He jerked his head to me, still holding the mask.

“Um, can I see that mask?” I asked, ignoring the cold water I’m standing in.

“Yeah, sorry” He said, handing it to me “Do you need help cleaning this up?” He asked, pointing to the water puddle.

“Uh no it’s fine” I stuttered “I’ll get more water though.” I said while turning around leaving a clueless Grayson standing at my door.

‘I really hope he doesn’t know who KittyMistress is’ I thought to myself. He’s a teen boy with hormones. I shouldn’t have let him go in my room by himself. I don’t even want to know what people would if they find out about the person behind the mask of KittyMistress. I am so stupid.

MOMENTS LATER

After I cleaned up the mess, we got started on the project. Scratch that, I started the project. This always happens so I’m not mad. It may hurt a little more because this is my crush and he’s paying no attention to me. My phone vibrated from my lap. It’s skype.

‘I really am sorry about yesterday :(’ Sexyboi69 texted. I look up to see Grayson is busy texting.

‘It’s fine’ I texted

‘I won’t be able to video chat. School stuff.’ He texted back

‘That’s fine! :) I have a school project coming up so I probably won’t be available for the next couple of days’ I hit send before placing my phone back in my lap. I got back to writing a summary, but I felt a pair of eyes on me.

THE NEXT DAY 

Mrs. Allen let us work on the project in class. Of course, Grayson was talking to his friends across the classroom. The bell rang and I have never been happier. My stuff was already packed so I put my backpack on and briskly walked out of the classroom with my English notebook clutched in my arms. As I’m walking to my next class, my phone vibrates,

‘Hey :)’ Sexyboi69 texted. What? Why now?

‘Hello?’ I sent, entering my biology class. Grayson also has this class with me, but I sit in the front and he sits in the back.

‘Why ?’ He sent back, I felt a pair of eyes burning the back of my head so I turned around, but saw no one, I turned back around.

GRAYSON’s POV

I’m overthinking it. Y/n is not KittyMistress. KittyMistress is confident and wild and y/n is quiet and clumsy. She’s a cute clumsy though. I look up to see y/n turning her head around so I put my head back down and pretend I’m texting. It’s not like I have a crush on her or anything. I have a thing for KittyMistress. Well, it’s one sided; I really want to know the face of the sexy body I see everyday. The face under the same exact mask y/n owns. Then again anybody can own that mask; I’ve seen that exact mask at a Halloween store. There it’s settled; y/n is not KittyMIstress.

LATER THAT DAY

I’m back at y/n’s house and she’s working on the project. I should really start helping. When I open my mouth, I hear the front door and a woman’s voice,

“Y/n! Are you home?” The woman yelled.

“Shit” y/n whispered. The woman opened door when y/n stood up and we made eye contact.

“Oh. Who’s this handsome young man?” She asked, smiling. 

“Um, Grayson” y/n stuttered out, “We’re working on an English project together.” She finished, fidgeting with the hem of her hoodie. The woman, who I’m guessing is her mom asks me,

“Oh yay! Grayson, we would love to have to stay for dinner!” She exclaimed as if her daughter doesn’t bring home friends. She has friends, right? I looked over at y/n who was chewing at her bottom lip, nervously.

“I would love to” I replied, smiling. Her mother seems nice.

“Yay!” She exclaimed, while clapping “Your father should be home early, but dinner should be ready soon!” She said before closing the door behind her and leaving us alone.

“Your mom is nice.” I said, smiling which resulted in y/n groaning.

AN HOUR LATER

We were all seated at the tiny table. I don’t remember the last time I’ve eaten with my family, but this feels nice.

“So Grayson” y/n’s dad started off “How did you meet my daughter?” He asked, dabbing his face with a napkin.

“We’ve had the classes since middle school, sir, but we got partnered up this year on a final project.” I explained, he nodded and drank his water. I can see from the corner of my eye that y/n is blushing. She’s so cute.

“You know,” y/n’s mom says while covering her mouth to swallow “She’s always talking about how cute this Gra-” she continues, but is interrupted by y/n coughing.

“Sweetie, are you okay?” Her mother asks with concern and rubs her back. Y/n just nods and drinks some water.

“Oh what was I saying?” She says

“Honey, we probably shouldn’t overwhelm him with questions.” Her husband said with a chuckle. 

“You’re right” She sighed “I just got excited because our daughter never brings guests home” She finished.

“I have to use the restroom” y/n said and ran down the hall. 

MOMENTS LATER

“I’m sorry ab-” I started, but was cut off by y/n,

“It’s fine, just leave it alone” she muttered, writing a summary for the project; I nodded. I was being nosy and started to look around. I had a deja vu moment when,

“You looking for something?” y/n sassed, I was taken aback and just shook my head. 

Y/N’s POV

I don’t know what has gotten into me or where this wave of confidence came, but I kind of like it. Grayson actually helped on the project for once; it might of just been gluing the pages on the poster, at least he was quiet. After about half an hour of walking, Grayson announces,

“I better go home.” Right as he said that, lightening strikes and we both get an alert on our phones that read,

‘FLASH FLOOD WARNING THIS AREA TIL 11:30PM EST. AVOID FLOOD AREAS. CHECK THE LOCAL MEDIA.’

I looked out my window and just my luck, the streets looked like a lake.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” I mumbled, he agreed.

“Do you have a guest room?” He asked, turning his head toward me.

“No, but you can take my bed” I offered, “I’ll sleep on the floor.” I said, getting up to get the extra blankets out of my closet. I told my mom I would never need to use them, but I can hear her in my head saying ‘I told you so!’

“No, it’s you’re ro-” He said, but I cut him off by placing my finger on his mouth, “No, you’re the guest and I swear to god if you fight me on this, I will make you swim home I don’t care.” I ranted. Jesus Christ, who let KittyMistress out? Where did this confidence come from?

"Who is this and why doesn’t she come out at school?” He joked, but there was some seriousness in it. I rolled my eyes playfully and continued to grab the blankets. If I’m sleeping on the floor, I’m going to make it as comfortable as possible.

“I’m going to change in the bathroom” I explained, “Try not to be nosy while I’m gone.” I joked and he saluted, making me giggle as I walk out of the room. After I change into a tank top and pajama shorts, I exit the bathroom and make my way towards my room. When I open the door, I see Grayson carefully running his fingers through my lingerie hanging up. You have got to be kidding me. Out of all things I have?

“What are you doing?!” I yell.

GRAYSON’s POV

I notice something lacy in the closet. Y/n’s words replay in my head, but I feel myself being drawn towards the closet. I can’t imagine y/n in something lacy or tight fitting even. I’m sure she has a nice body under all those hoodies she wears. As I approach the open closet, I see that it’s lingerie. My eyes have definitely popped out of my head. I can’t imagine y/n in stuff like this. I hear a jingle sound and see that there’s a collar with a bell on it.

‘Where have I seen this before?’ I think to myself with furrowed brows. My thoughts were interrupted by y/n,

“What are you doing?!” She yells. I’m just standing there; it can’t be her. She just rolls her eyes and snatches the lacy material out of my hands and walks away. Before my mouth can catch up with my brain I speak out,

“Mistress.” She stops dead in her tracks. Gotcha.

“What did you just say?” She asked, facing away from me.

“I had a feeling when I first came over, but I thought the mask was just a coincidence.” I explained, walking towards her; her breathing is now ragged,

“And then the texting” I whispered by her ear. She’s shivering at this point.

“Sexyboi69?” She whispered, dropping the items on the ground. I nodded with a smirk. I’ve been waiting for this moment. My fingers trailed up her arm, leaving a trail of goosebumps. With her back still facing me, I slowly put my hand down her shorts and cup her pussy. Before I can feel her insides, the door knob starts to jiggle. I pull my hand out and she steps away from me.

“Hey, how are you guys?” Her mom says as she sticks her head in.

“Yeah, I was just making myself a bed on the floor” she explains, pointing to the makeshift bed. She nods while smiling and closes the door.

“The bed is big enough for the both of us” I said, smirking.

“Don’t you start with that” She jokingly replied with her finger pointing at me. I move towards her slowly and grip her wrist softly.

“I swear to god if you don’t stop looking at me like, I am going to cum in my pants.” I say as she blushes and replies,

“What look?” Like she doesn’t know. The innocent look that has every guy preying on her. It’s like my mouth has a mind of its own and next thing I knew, my lips were on hers. She was taken aback at first, but then relaxed under my touch. Our lips moved in sync and I find my hands wandering all over her body. 

“Are you sure you want to do this with a virgin?” She asks as I leave sloppy kisses on the base of her neck.

“There is nothing sexier than a virgin.” I replied and meant it. She seems to have a burst of confidence because she tossed me on the bed and straddled me. Her confidence never fails to turn me on. I pull down her tank top so that her breasts are spilling out. I begin to knead them and suck on them as her back arches and lets out a moan. 

“You are so fucking hot” I state, making my way back to her lips. My hand slides down her shorts and rubbing her clit before pumping finger in her. She moans in my ear which turns me on even more if it’s even possible at this point. Her hand is bunching up my shirt as I add another finger. 

“So tight.” I compliment and rewarded with a moan. I rub her clit with my thumb and I see her eyes roll so she must be close. Just as suspected, I feel a sticky substance coating my fingers and y/n collapses beside me.

“How was that?” I asked, laying next to her.

“What about your problem?” She asked, eyeing my very painful boner.

“As much as I would love those pretty lips around my cock, I need to be inside that pretty pussy.” I said, getting on top of her. She gasps and blushes at my words. My lips meets hers and she begins to undo my belt. 

“Why in a hurry?” I said, smirking and holding her hands down in the bed. She surprises me by flipping us over. Goddamn how is she so strong. 

“Because I’m in charge and you will address me as Mistress.” She stated, pinning my hands down.

"What are you going to do to me, Mistress?” I asked, lifting my head up from the bed. She smirks and rubs my hard cock through my jeans. I hiss and say,

“If you do that again, I am going to have a wet spot on my jeans.” She just continues to rub my dick before unbuckling my belt and sliding off my jeans, leaving me in my boxers and shirt. She gets off of me and then walks over to her drawer and digs around and pulls out what looks like a box of condoms.

“If you’re a virgin then why do you have a box of condoms?” I genuinely asked.

“What do you think?” She sarcastically replied. Her mom. I played it off with a laugh when she opened the new box and pulled out a condom. She walks over and hands it to me. I look at her confused.

“I don’t know how to put one on.” She shyly says, which makes me smile.

“Here” I say, taking the condom from her hand and taking it out of the package. I pull down my boxers and I see y/n’s eyes go wide from the side.

“Come here” I whispered, holding out my hand; which she takes and I put her back on my lap. “Give me your hands” I continued, guiding her hands on the condom to slide it down my dick.

“Is this going to fit?” She whispers

“We’ll see” I reply, flipping us so she’s beneath me, “Let me know if it’s hurt” I say and she nods. I slowly begin to push myself and see a tear run down her cheek. Y/n grabs the back of my head and begins kissing me, which is my queue to go deeper. When I’m balls deep in her, we both let out a throaty moan. 

“Please go faster” She whimpers in my neck.

“Your wish is my command” I whisper in her ear and begin thrusting at a faster pace. Her moans sounds pornographic as the sound of rain and my balls slapping fill the room. I reach my hand down to her clit and rub it in a circular motion. She starts shaking and I feel myself starting to climax. Before I knew it, I’m seeing stars and my load fills the condom. I stay in her warmth for a little longer before laying next to her and discarding the condom.

“How was that?” I asked, out of breath and facing her. She replies, still out of breath, but with a goofy smile,

“Better than porn.”

[katsukikitten]

Summer night of third year 2??

Yea I'm sorry but what the fuck did I name part 1? Maybe if I kept UP TO DATE with my master list I wouldnt have this problem.

⬅️➡️⬅️➡️⬆️

Time does not move as slowly as Katsuki thought as the sun sets on class 1As beach day much faster than he'd like to admit.

The umbrellas were closed much like this day at the beach as they were left for tomorrow. You linger, eyes staring over what was picture perfect moments ago, there's still tomorrow is what you keep telling yourself as you walk backwards towards the lodge.

Dinner was already underway by the time you slipped into the dining room. What between Katsuki who was voluntold to cook and Todoroki y'all would be eating in a few minutes. Bodies begin to pile in to sit around the large table in the combined two rooms, you bite your lip forgetting how much you hate confined spaces with a crowd, even as you sat at the very end.

Even when these people were supposed to be your friends, yet the room still felt a little claustrophobic and you weren't drunk enough to be able to deal with all of them at once yet. You tap the flask that hides in your inside pocket and your fingers touch the smooth square box of cigarettes. Suddenly the box is SCREAMING at you, at how badly you want a stick to your lips with a flame burning at the end.

If nothing more than an excuse to get outside.

You slide out the side door with ease without even having to use your quirk. You flick your lighter on and off a few times as an irritatingly smooth voice growls in your head.

*"Bullshit you can quit anytime you want, you're a slave to them."*

You growl to yourself pulling an aromatic stick from the box being sure to dodge your lucky as you place it between your tender lips.

You COULD stop anytime you wanted. The fact of the matter was you simply didn't fucking want to.

You light the small white stick, giving it a good drag before you blow it from your nose like a dragon.

"All you're doing is proving my fucking point, princess baka."

You lift your shirt and find the smooth handle of your favorite knife to slam it into the door jamb at the last second as you see it is only that annoying asshole who won't leave you alone.

"One day I'm going to follow through and you'll be dead, stalker boy." You go to take another drag but the stick and your pack of smokes is ripped from your hand and going up in smoke encouraged by little popping sounds.

"Can you fucking not?!" You pull the knife from the wood angrily, brandishing it for just a moment before returning it to its sheath on your ribs. Other wise it might sink between his third and fourth, never to obliterate your smokes again.

Your stomach twists at the thought and you brush over the handle before finding the cool flask.

"Oi, dinner is ready. You might wanna get in there before there's nothing left."

"Yea yea I'll think about eating." You grumble, crossing your arms as you think about how far away the next convience store was.

10 miles last you saw and you were pretty sure an overly priced pack of smokes wasn't going to be worth it.

"You better eat, you've drank more than you've eaten. Plus I didn't cook for your shit to get cold." He looks over his shoulder with dark eyes, "Now come inside Princess."

Ten miles was looking better and better.

*************

The night wound down to be dull and boring even as all of you drank.

But no one had the balls to be open about their feelings.

Even you could see that in the past six months that some of these fools have been avoiding it and what better way than to bring it to the forefront by stirring the shit pot. You smirk to yourself as you sashay to the freezer pulling out the stashed bottles of liquor making your way to sit at the head of their circle snatching Kirishima's beer and chugging it as you do.

"Hey!" He whines but you ignore him, all eyes on you. The sore thumb of the group, the black sheep that does not belong. The anomaly that disrupts the team.

You smile to yourself at the thought.

"So everyone is single right?" A lot of blushing cheeks confirm your hunch, "Good then no one will have a problem participating."

You place the cool glass in the center of the circle placing it to yourself first.

"Participate in fucking what?" Katsuki growls but does not make a move to leave just yet. He needs to be here to make sure you're on your best behavior.

"Kiss or dare!" You smile and when all twenty of your classmates give you a puzzled look you sigh, "Its like this."

You spin the bottle, the glass rounds and rounds, whirring as it does before it starts to slow as Minta all but pants at the idea of a kissing game.

The empty beer lands on Denki, his cheeks flush, golden eyes flashing to Jhiro at lightening speed missed by all but you as you take a mental note.

"So the bottle landed on Denki, I have the choice to kiss him or not. If I choose not to he gets the choice of 'Is it true that...' or 'I dare you to..' but you cannot dare them to kiss you, but you can dare them to kiss someone else. If you do not do the dare, truth, or kiss you MUST take a shot but after your third pass you have to do what's asked of you." You smile at him and his cheeks deepen in hue, "Dont worry this is practice. I'd like a truth or dare."

He swallows as he thinks, the meme lord wondering if he should just ask what he's been dying to know since you transferred here or if he should make light of the situation.

"Is it true that you were a former criminal in the states? Like a modern day cat woman?" He eyes your tight black tank top that dips a little low and how it fits your curves. You smile at his question, one of the many rumors going around school about you.

"Technically that's two questions." You purr opting to take your shot, "Now let's begin! U-san you have the honors of spinning first."

Iida, Ojiro, Aoyama, Koda, Sato and Shoji opt out silently then and there agreeing to build the separators for the rooms so the can play video games.

"Well I'm not playing fuck this." Katsuki goes to stand, part of you is relieved and the other?

Well the other wants to get under his skin.

"What a surprise that stalker boy is scared." You giggle, Kirishima stares at you with mouth agape as Katsuki looks over his shoulder.

"What the fuck did you say?"

"I said you are a coward." You say slowly so he can understand. He sits back down in an angry puff.

"You'll regret challenging me." He says darkly, half the class gulps but you roll your eyes at the dramatics.

"Yea yea. I'll rue the fucking day." You say mockingly before your voice is laced with excitement, "Now back to you U-san."

"Ah me?" She is blushing as badly as Deku who sits across from her. You wonder if she hopes with all her heart that it will land on the emerald hair boy but the Gods have spoken as it lands on an apathetic pair of heterochromatic eyes. She let's out the smallest sound of disappointment that makes you shudder.

This night will prove interesting after all

"Uh...ummm" Brown doe eyes flash to Deku before locking onto Todoroki, "Truth or dare!"

"Is it true that you have a crush on someone in this room?" His voice is smooth, caressing the room even as everyone falls silent, astounded by his bluntness. You glee bubbles up from your stomach in a manic smile. She turns the color of Katsuki's scarlet eyes before she finally answers, eyes glued to the floor.

"Yes.."

"Well well!" You giggle, "Someone may get a confession tonight! Momo your turn!"

The Gods do not favor Momo as the bottle comes to a halt in front of a purple headed boy, the every girl shudders with displeasure at the thought.. She gulps while he drools, eyes glued to her figure.

"Truth or dare." She says quickly, and his face becomes visibly crest fallen.

"Is it true your bra size is a DD32?" He stares blatantly at her covered chest, she moves her baggy sweatshirt to cover herself more. She brings a well manicuried hand to the little glass of clear liquid before her and swallows the burning shot whole.

Katsuki spins the bottle angirly, causing it to tailspin for far too long before landing on Kirishima.

Denki, Sero, and Mina laugh as Katsuki grits his teeth. Kirishima teasingly puckers his lips earning a deadly glare.

"Truth or dare you fucking idiot."

"Hmmm I dare you to try to get the number from the receptionist downstairs." He offers a challenging smirk to witch Katsuki returns.

"Easy." He stands quickly as you laugh.

"Who would want *his* number?" You giggle but Kirishima stands, motioning for you to follow as the dare unfolds.

The two of you stand on the stairs shrouded in shadows. A place you are used to being as Katsuki looks over his shoulder a final time before leaning agaisnt the counter. You smile knowing he will fail but as his voice comes out smoothly, husky even as he gives off this aura of exuding power, speaking to the blushing girl your stomach twists.

"M...my number." She looks up at him shyly and he leans closer, with a cocky grin on his face.

"Yes, princess." He purrs. Something pangs in your chest over the pet name. As far as you knew you were the only one he called that. Your brows dip into a scowl as she giggles.

"I would love to get to know you more..." He adds, twirling the pen before he offers it to her. She grabs onto his hand writing on his palm her actual number.

"You'll text me?" The beautiful girl behind the desks asks with almost a sadness to it.

"Of course I will, *Princess*." He purrs albeit you do not know it is a lie. This time you cannot deny the rage that wells in your stomach although you chalk it up to his victory. You crumple a five into Kirshima's large palm before the ash blonde meets the two of you on the stairs, palm held out to you with a heart around her phone number. You hear her texting madly on her phone. Most likely texting her friends about the oh so "hot" blonde that got her number. You roll her eyes.

"Text her right now." You bite and Katsuki gives you a look before he whips out his phone. Thumbs tapping away at the phone quickly.

He turns his phone to you, the face of it displays a Hey Princess that has you grinding your teeth as her phone in the lobby dings, followed by her delighted squeal and three dots popping up in reply. You lock his phone before turning on your heel.

"The others are waiting." You say smoothly.

Two more rounds flash by in what feels like seconds as the bottle is again in your possession.

"I cannot believe no one has kissed anyone yet! Now every third turn you must kiss who it lands on. Yall got these next two rounds to figure your shit out!" You dictate, spinning the bottle with flair. It lands on Mina who's eyes widen as she stares at the glass bottle. The room seems to still again, waiting for your move.

And do you make a fucking move.

All eyes are on you, two red sets in particular that watch you crawl in your much too short shorts that give half of the class a view they cannot forget while the other half gets a picture perfect moment of your breasts.

You straddle Mina gently before pulling her pink chin towards you, capturing her lips with yours as if she were the love of your life. She whimpers beneath your touch, a swipe of your tongue over hers before you pull away. Her cheeks aflame from both the kiss and the other sets of eyes on you both.

Because when you did something you did it BIG.

Sero and Denki share a look, silently conveying to one another just how hot that was, thanking the Kamisami above for this twisted game of Kiss or Dare.

The bottle spins on, Uraraka omits what her panty color is, Deku must admits he too has a crush, Denki tells the gritty details of what his last dream was about (he leaves out the part where he and Jhiro make out) Todoroki has to strip to his deep sapphire blue boxers and stay in them for the rest of the night, your eyes catch over his abs with delight.

The other girls silently thank you for your boldness and catch the hint. Begining to dare the boys to strip.

Katsuki's bottle lands on Mina who gives him a cat smile.

"True or dare." He bites out.

"I dare you to strip to your boxers for the rest of the evening." She laces her fingers together with delight as he rolls his eyes from the predictably.

Despite having seen all the guys in their bathing suits today there was just *something* about the way boxers fit a guy.

Your smile begins to fade as you watch him remove his shirt, grabbing it by the back of the collar and pulling it in a swift motion, revealing his wash board abs. Your mouth waters for a moment so deft hands unbuckle his belt with ease, you bite your lip suddenly angry. Angry that he is taking his clothes off differently than the rest of them, Kirishima and Todoroki undressed normally, quickly even but Bakugou stands with finesse somehow in his agitated movements, sliding down his Khaki shorts over toned legs to reveal black boxers that cling to his powerful thighs and cute ass.

Your heart stills watching his muscles become taunt before he tosses his shit to the side, cocky smile in his lips so he goes back into a criss cross sitting position.

"Oi." He says to the whole class before his eyes land on you, "Stop staring."

Everyone averts their eyes but you, you hold onto his gaze narrowing your eyes as that damn cocky grin grows wider.

The game plays on and your bottle lands on Kirishima.

You lick your lips, ready to dive onto that heavenly hardened body. You straddle him as you did Mina, titling his head more roughly than you did her towards you while his hands naturally find themselves on your hips.

You steal the breath from him as your mouth works wonders, tongue massaging, his eyes flutter as he fights back a groan but the whole class can see how tight his grip is on your hips.

The sight having one person in particular seething, scarlet eyes roving over the indents in your thick hips. He bites back a growl and you part from Kirishima none the wiser as you say aloud.

"How does Mina taste on me?"

His eyes widen, as his heart clenches with guilt at your reminder who his actual crush is. But Mina seems unbothered, excited to share a story that they kissed the same *girl*.

Uraraka spins the glass, this time Kamisama smiles upon her and it lands on Deku. She goes to chicken out but you interrupt her truth or dare.

"As a reminder, everyone this round HAS to kiss who the bottle lands on." Deku blushes furiously as Uraraka walks over to him, she gets to her knees before him before kissing him on the cheek last second. Everyone let's out an audibly sigh. But to your surprise Deku pulls her back to him and kisses her fiercely.

"I want you to stop playing this game." His voice comes out a whisper to her but the hushed room allows for everyone to hear, "Let's go to the beach."

You smile as your plan slowly comes together. Momo's bottle some hoe lands on Todoroki, both of them so wasted that they cannot stop themselves from their kiss. Both having held back their feelings for far too long. Todoroki lifts Momo with strong arms as he guides her to the balcony. Denki lands on Jhiro and they both agree to quit but they hold hands as they leave. Slowly your circle shrinks. Katsuki spins and the bottle lands on Kirishima again.

Their eyes widen and as Katsuki goes to stand to leave the game you hold his gaze.

"Coward." You say loudly and he walks to Kirishima, eyes glued to you as he pulls the male up by his chin. Kissing him with a fevor you did not know Katuki possessed and just like you Kirishima cannot deny the passion of the kiss and must fight back a groan. Katsuki let's go, wiping his mouth as the small circle stares in amazement. Hagakure lands on Mineta causing her to comment on how late it was, disappearing quickly as she shed her clothes. Mineta passes out from both a broken heart and too many shots to think. Another round happens, Tokoyami lands on Mina to which he pecks on the cheek, your bottle lands on Mina and she dares you to take off your shirt.

Leaving you to be the one to blush now as she knows you arent wearing anything more than an unlined bralette. Its tight enough that it reveals your pierced nipple to which scarlet eyes are glued.

It is the ash blonde's turn now and it lands on you. You smile as you think up a question to ask him but instead he stands, walking towards you and stopping just beside you. He lifts you by the arm pulling you away from the group.

"She's done playing." A chorus of aaaahhhs rings out before the game dissolves before your very eyes.

"How are you just going to dictate that the game is over stalker boy?!" You growl as he pushes you onto the separate balcony from Todoroki and Momo.

You pat yourself for your smokes, becoming more and more agitated with the blonde before you as you remember what happened to them.

Lucky and all.

"I can dictate whatever I want Princess." The name ignites a drunken fire in you and you shove him, pushing him against the wall hating his God damn intoxicating scent of slightly burnt sugar.

"Don't call me that. Clearly you save that name for any old stupid slut." You hiss. Bakugou's eyes narrow, bare skin heating beneath your palms that press against his chest. One over his sternum the other prodding the sweet meat between two ribs. He flips you, slamming you into the exterior wall, deadly arms trapping you as the wooden siding bites into your ass, back and bare thighs. One of his hands finds your hip, squeezing hard enough for a bruise to blossom as he is reminded that someone else has gripped your tender flesh.

"Then I have every right to call you a slut huh? You kissed half the class tonight." He snarls darkly, "I can only imagine what you did in the states while you were a thief AND an assassin."

You still at his comment, no longer trying to move his muscled body from yours.

"How did you?" It comes out angry yet your eyes still water.

"You don't make a sound when you walk, you appear out of thin air, you blend into any crowd or background better than I've ever seen and lastly a lot of stuff has turned up missing." He leans closer to you, "Like a certain t shirt of mine, a lighter I use for practice, Azawai's goggles and about 50,000 yen between the twenty of us."

You look away more ashamed over the killing more than the stealing. The stealing you picked up to survive, the killing...

Well the killing paid big and you had a lot you needed to pay for.

Not that any of it mattered in the end with the life that was cut much too short.

You grab onto his forearm, nails digging into his skin, silently begging for him to stop.

"You have swift hands. It's why I have to watch you." He tilts your chin his way again and you jerk free just for his strong fingers to find your jawline once more.

"I hate you watching me." A dark growl leaves your kissable lips that somehow cuts deeper into Katsuki than one of your knives ever has.

"Why?" The question comes out slowly and you whip your eyes to his.

"Your gaze is so heavy Suki. I'm only ever reminded of the wrong I've done and the wrong I'll continue to do. I never please you, you always scold me and I told myself well at least he hates me some kinda special since I have my own nickname but come to find out you call any bitch that!" You huff, stupid drunk tears pricking your eyes.

"You think I *care* about that girl downstairs?" He snarls darkly, "Do I make sure she eats when she goes through a depressive episode? To I help steer her clear of smoking or alchohol that she could binge on during her darkest hour? Do I pick a fight or force her to spare with me when I know she needs to let off steam? Do I feed her the finest foods, place a chocolate bar for her to steal out of the freezer or treat her remotely to fucking anything like you?"

You have no words as you digest what he had said, scarlet eyes flickering back and forth, searching yours for answers before he finds it. He tilts your head to his, taking your lips to his own as he kisses you tenderly, parting and returning to kiss you deeply. Biting your lip for entrance as your tongues fight, his hands finding your pierced nipple easily. He gives it a harsh tug earning a moan into his mouth. He explores you for a few moments before he let's go, both of your lips swollen as you pant for breath.

"You're my one and fucking only, got it *Princess*?"

"Yea yea stalker boy." You pull him back to you by the nape of his neck, kissing him with breath stealing passion.

[ladykeane]

hi! i just read the fic 'clausura' on ao3 and i really liked the premise so could i request something with reg helping bertie through a panic attack in the bertie's blog verse? i've been having quite a few recently and i wish i had someone like reg to help me through them. thank you!!

Prompt (finally) filled! I hope you don’t mind Nonny, but I switched the script and had Bertie help Reg instead.

I try not to put too much real world strife into this series, but I think COVID-19 is too invasive to ignore. Wash your hands, follow medical advice, and keep calm and carry on. Also practice good mental self-care if you don’t have a household Wooster to do it for you!

‘Who was that Scottish chappie, Reg?’‘Bertram?’‘You know, the one who always banged on about schemes and gangs and aglets, or something.’It took me a moment to detangle the meaning of my beloved’s question.‘You may be referring to the poet Burns, and the oft-quoted excerpt of his poem “To A Mouse”:“The best laid schemes o’ mice an’ men gang aft agley,an’ lea’e us nought but grief an’ pain, for promis’d joy!”’‘That’s it. Someone ought give him an editorial spot with The Independent.’‘I fear it would be a posthumous one, Bertram.’‘Oh. Shame, that.’

I suspect that Bertram was musing on the peculiar times that we curently find ourselves in: a land of toilet paper scarcity, face masks, and widespread uncertainty. He had just come home from a foraging trip through the local supermarkets. Though he looked somewhat the worse for wear, had scored a few bags of root vegetables, some bulk wet wipes, and a good four kilograms of cat litter. His Code of the Woosters had driven him to volunteer for the onerous task. I quickly moved to prepare a pot of his favoured Darjeeling.

My own onerous task for the day had been an earlier phone call to my mother, informing her that the intricate and expensive planning that we’d gone through for my wedding to Bertram would, for now, amount to naught. The immediate future was a grey fog, and no-one could say for sure when it would be safe to re-schedule the ceremony.‘Was Rani alright when you phoned?’ Bertram asked, casting an errant shred of packing foam from his hair, before scrubbing his hands raw under the kitchen tap.‘She bore up. She wishes to give the catering company a very stern phone call for their refusal to refund our deposit. But as she is currently so busy at the medical centre, I doubt she will find the time or energy.’'I imagine the old girl has her hands full with panicking tabloid readers, eh?’'Quite so, Bertram. She told me that more of her time has been spent counselling healthy young people with the sniffles, than administering to her truly vulnerable patients.’'Blackguards. May they all run out of loo roll!’'Indeed.’We then passed a more sedate afternoon over our laptops. Bertram meticulously tended to his famous blog, while I prepared some documents for a fastidious client, keen to protect her assets against the variable economic climate. The cats, who were quite pleased with our increased presence in the flat, snoozed together on the tabletop between us.As I rose for a second cup of tea, I considered their purring, languid forms. Not for the first time, I urged myself to maintain my my sangfroid. It was in unsettled times like this that my reputedly cool demeanour was truly put to the test. While I would not confess to being a total control freak, I do appreciate order and consistency a great deal. It is the environment in which I best flourish, and I confess that the mounting chaos around us had been persistenly pricking at my nerves.

As I poured the remaining tea, I recieved a phone call from an unknown number.'Hello, this is Reginald Jeeves.’'Good afternoon, Mr Jeeves, I’m calling from Bethnal Green Medical Centre. I understand that you are a co-worker of a Mrs Beatrice Akinyemi?’'Yes, she is a paralegal at my firm.’ I felt my insides begin to clench.'Have you been in contact with Mrs Akinyemi within the last fourteen days, sir?’'I saw her at the office just a few days ago.’'I am obliged to inform you that she has recently tested positive for COVID-19. Given your recent contact, you and your household will be obliged to self isolate for a minimum of fourteen days, and monitor the onset of any symptoms. Have you or any of your houshold members experienced a high fever or persistent coughing?’My words stuck in my throat, and my heartbeat accelerated.'Sir?’'Is Bea alright?’'She last reported some mild flu-like symptoms, but she is not currently in a critical condition. As she is not in a high-risk category, her prospects of a full recovery are good. Can you please confirm if you or any of your household have been experiencing related symptoms?’’…No.’'Are any of your household members over the age of sixty, or do they have a pre-existing autoimmune condition?’'Paul… he’s not in my household, he is my co-worker. He and his husband are-’'We will be contacting Mr Seppings, to advise him of this development.’'Thank you.’'Should you develop any symptoms, your household will need to remain in self-isolation for a further fourteen days. Please refer to the NHS website to keep up to date with any developments. And do try not to worry too much. These are necessary precautions, which are in place to minimise the spread of the virus. You and your colleagues will likely be fine, long-term.’I nodded tightly, unable to find further words.After an uneasy pause, 'Have yourself a good day, Mr Jeeves.’ The line went dead.

The last I had seen of Bea had been last Friday, shuffling listlessly out of the office doors, laden down with a loot of groceries. She had two loud, hungry teenage sons at home.I thought of Paul and Anatole. Both were ex-smokers, their lungs still in the process of repairing decades of damage. I thought of my mother, swamped with desperate patients, a face mask clamped over her mouth.

I was suddenly unable to get enough air into my own lungs. My throbbing hearbeat seemed to overtake everything, pounding in my throat and my ears. I gripped at the kitchen counter with trembling clawed fingers. What was worst was the blank terror in my mind, my inability to think my way out of the paralysis. This godawful panic had saturated its way through my whole body.

The kitchen door opened behind me, Bertram bearing his own empty teacup.'Reg…?’ His voice was delicate.I tried not to sob as I felt tears escape my eyes.

After a few moments, his slow, slippered footsteps approached, and he softly draped his slender form upon my back. His arms slipped around my waist, and he rested his head on my shoulder. With my sharp, jagged inhales, his curls began to tickle my face.I could feel his own breaths, deep, even, tender. His body was a reassuring weight, and his hands began stroking up and down my arms.

'Come with meAnd you’ll beIn a world of pure imaginationTake a look and you’ll seeInto your imagination…’

We’ll beginWith a spinTravelling in the world of my creationWhat we’ll see will defy explanation…’

As he sang, my heartbeat gradually slowed, falling in time with the unhurried tempo he had set. The tear tracks dried on my face.I found my words once more. 'Willy Wonka, Bertram?’'Well… you look like you could use some chocolate.’

He sat me down, and presented me with a family block of Cadbury’s along with my refreshed tea.'That was Bea’s GP. She has tested positive, so we must isolate for the next two weeks.’'Ah, well.’ He broke off a large piece and popped it in his mouth. 'It was bound to happen to one of us, sooner or later. Knowing Bea, her immune system’s already got the dratted thing running scared. Have you called her?’Tightness constricted my throat again, and Bertram was surprisingly astute. He rested his hand on mine. 'She’ll be alright, I promise you. So will the others. Anatole’s arsenal of garlic-heavy dishes will will be a formidable first defence, for one thing.’

I exhaled heavily. ’…I haven’t had such an episode of panic since secondary school.’ I felt a layer of shame now pressing upon my ravaged core.Bertram tsked. 'Oh, I got panic attacks all the time at Eton. Must have been all the stress from constantly dodging my house master’s fury. It always helped to cocoon myself in bed. I hope that the spindly Wooster corpus provided a passable impromptu shock blanket for you!’He laughed lightly, then his gaze settled on mine. I was pulled into a lengthy embrace. He spoke no more, instead imparting all that I needed through his sweet, balmy presence.

***

'You wouldn’t believe what a help my Simon has been,’ Bea told me, her congested voice even more distorted through the phone. 'Made a pea and ham soup last night that was actually edible. He even found a carton of my favourite ice-cream at the back of the Tesco freezer!’'So your appetite is still sound?’ I questioned.'Yeah, just have to deal with this bloody cough. Otherwise, staying in my PJs and binge-watching telly all day has been quite the holiday. The doc told me I’ll likely recover just fine.’'I am relieved to hear it.’'You just make sure you’re looking after yourself, Reg.’ Her tone had turned stern and auntly. 'Though I’m sure that that Bertram of yours is nursing you well proper. Do as he says, alright?’'I will be sure to.’'I’m gonna start on season 3 of “The Crown”, now. I promise I’ll keep spoilers to myself. Talk soon, love.’'Take care, Bea.’

I hung up, turning my attention to Vasily, warm and pliant in my lap. I scratched his ears and he purred deeply.'Dinner will be ready in about five, Reg,’ Bertram announced from the kitchen. 'Is beans on spelt toast with sauted red onions alright?’I chuckled to myself. 'That will be superlative, my shaman.’

[ziracona]

How many people were tested just for others anyway? Gordon's wife and daughter, Daniel (the wiki says it was also for shoplifting but he was 16 so I call bs), literally everyone except Lynn and her husband in Saw III, and my memory past 3 is fuzzy but that one lying author's wife comes straight to mind. They weren't being tested for whatever John pretended his survival of the fittest policy was they were terrorized tortured and/or killed for basically nothing but the pain of the target.

Anon you’re so valid TuT 

ITS TRUE AND WE SHOULD ALL SAY IT!!! Also, I wrote this little part last, bc I just wanted to give fair warning that I went blind into a rage and wrote threethousand words about how much I hate John Kramer, full of very terrible language and spoilers for Saw 1-6, because I go that fucking feral at the sound of his name, and I can’t make everyone scroll past that so I’m putting most of it under the cut, but even if you decide you justifiably fear that rant and don’t read it, just know you are incredibly valid, and John can eat shit and die. Rant start:

John did that bullshit constantly! He would over and over put 1 (one) man he personally wanted to watch suffer on trial and sacrifice /scores/ of people for no reason. No trap, no way to escape, at someone else’s mercy completely or maybe with 0 chance even there bc JOHN KRAMER IS A SACK OF SHIT. 

He kills a house full of drug addicts in two, mostly just bc his wife worked w drug addicts and John hates drug addicts, and even though Amanda was in their literal exact same position she does jack shit to stop him and just watches people slowly have their organs deteriorate and start coughing up blood around her!! Including fucking Daniel! Who got an antidote but like, at the 11th hour. Do y’all even understand how biology works John and CO??? If you neutralize a poison after it has deteriorated parts of organs it might save your life but itS NOT A FUCKING HEALTH POTION. Poor Daniel Matthews probably will only live to be like forty tops if he’s super lucky because of that. And he did NOTHING!!! He had shoplifted bc he was going through a teen phase but he’s like sixteen! Everyone was dumb as shit as a teenager, and most people shoplift at some point in their life! It does not earn you slow deterioration of your organs! Poor kid not only watched a man burned to death in an oven, dude have his brains blown out, girl die of prolonged organ failure, and more shit, he himself /killed/ a man as a sixteen year old child to save Amanda Young because he’s got a good heart and is a good person, and that shit is awful! It’s traumatic to kill someone at any age, but as a teenager? And then he got knocked out by her and thrown in a tiny locked safe, tied up and gagged, and kept alive by an oxygen tank in an enclosed space after that massive trauma for or AT LEAST 24 HOURS ! He did NOTHING. It was all just a long-con sacrifice to get Eric Matthews to a specific location. Eric did some real shit, but god, even after everything Daniel did for Amanda and all John’s talk of innocents, neither of them ever even tell Eric he lived! Amanda just locks him up, fights, beats him to she thinks death, and then John keeps him locked up and isolated in a cell for months, only to make him choke himself slowly in a test he doesn’t actually get to participate in to keep a friend from being electrocuted. It’s all kinds of fucked.

Even Jeff did nothing worse than be depressed and obsessive and unavailable to his kid, all Lynn did was have a boyfriend after she and he separated (and tbh the only reason John took her was bc he wanted a doctor and hated her for being one of the docs who told him he had cancer bc John is a pettyass hypocritical stupid sack of shit!) I’m VIBRATING with hatred. Lynn was just a pawn in Amanda’s test! It never mattered if she kept John alive! It only mattered if Amanda decided to fucking shoot her!!! She did her task and died and JOHN KNEW THERE WAS A HIGH PROBABILITY AMANDA WOULD KILL HER AND DID NOTHING TO STOP IT BC JOHN CARES ABOUT NO ONE BUT HIMSELF THE FUCKING WORTHLESS LITTLE WORM. 

And the other victims in 3 are a poor college student who ran over someone on accident and feels massive guilt already and served jail time for it who gets his fucking limbs and then head all twisted off while begging for his life because JOHN KRAMER IS A PIECE OF SHIT AND SO IS JEFF TBH. BUT NOT AS BIG OF ONE. The poor girl who is stung up naked in a freezer and sprayed repeatedly with water till she is encased in ice and dead literally just saw the hit and run and ran away bc she was scared!!! Not to mention Jeff’s other kid who gets kidnapped and locked up as collateral! Even if she’s not hurt that’s FUCKING TRAUMATIZING FOR A YOUNG CHILD. And Allison Kerry did nothing wrong! Amanda kills her in the Angel trap literally just bc she’s investigating them! When he targets a detective John’s always like “Ho ho he, I am putting you on trial bc you are obsessed with your work”  LIKE, BITCH NO SHE FUCKIN AINT SHE DOIN HER GODDAMN JOB AND U DON”T WANT TO GET CAUGHT YOU STUPID FUCKING WHORE I FUCKING HATE YOU SO MUCH THAT JUST LOOKING AT YOUR FACE CAUSES ME TO PRODUCE SO MUCH EXCESS EPINEPHRINE I COULD BOTTLE IT AND SAVE IT FOR LATER. I swear to god, if I had a grenade and I was in the room trapped with a still breathing John Kramer, I would kill pull the pin and take us both! FUCK I would pull the pin and then french kiss the grenade as thanks for letting me see that sack of shit go right to hell!

I don’t remember all of four bc it was really terrible, so I don’t have a lot of thoughts there except woof, but there was a lot of bullshit. Like John’s lawyer who did nothing but try to talk to him about finances enough it pissed John off got kidnapped, won his first game, and then got kidnapped again BC THAT SHIT HEAD SURE NEVER KEEPS EVEN HIS OWN GODDAMNED WORD and was made pawn in the game and then shot bc he didn’t have a chance to save himsefl!!! 

In Saw one, also, again, Adam was never being tested. He was just a pawn too. It was Gordon who got to decide to kill him or not, and ADAM LIVED TO SIX OR WHENEVER THE FUCK THE TIME WAS AND JOHN STILL LEFT HIM TO DIE BECAUSE HE”S A HYPOCRITICAL PIECE OF SHIT!!!! And he’s not interesting enough for Johns MASSIVE brainshlong that obviously is so full of right ideas and enlightenment you MICROPENISEDtrulyIDIOTIC self-centered human garbage!  He only took Adam at all bc he was there! He said the reason was Adam was pathetic! ADAM WAS DOING HIS BEST YOU CRUSTY ASS RED ROBED TURTLE LOOKIN MOTHERFUCKER. He was a freelance photographer in New Jersey in his early 20s during an economic collapse, and still nice enough to be taking care of stray cats you FUCKING sack of dogshit! 

And Gordon? All he did was tell John he had cancer! He was cheating on his wife too, but like, the reason John picked him was that!!! HE THOUGHT!! GORDON SOUNDED TOO COLD WHEN HE TOLD HIM HE HAD CANCER I FUCKING HATE JOHN KRAMER SO MUCH. John Kramer really will see someone smile not as big a smile as he thought they should have given him and be like: “Yo, is anyone going to corkscrew their eyeballs off?” and not even wait for an answer. I fuuuuukning hate him. And that little shitface thought it was somehow chill to order someone else to kill Gordon’s wife and eight year old child who had done JACK SHIT wrong ever if Gordon wasn’t willing to brutally murder a kid in his early 20s who had done nothing wrong????! WHAT THE FUCK. Mr. KRamer.. QUICK QUESTION. WHAT. THE. FUCK. You self-righteous, self-centered, pretentious, pettyass, sadistic motherfucking goddamn worthless excuse for anything!

In five he’s finally dead so I can : ) once. BUT HE STILL FUCKS UP SHIT FROM BEYOND THE GRAVE. SO I’m STILL MAD. All the people Hoffman kills are ppl John told him to, so HE STILL MOTHERFUKIN RESPONSIBLE. In 5 it’s a bunch of people responsible kind of for deaths of people in a low-income neighborhood. One guy was paid to torch an abandoned building, and eight people died in the fire, but he didn’t know anyone was there and feels terrible. He thought it was vacant, it was just arson. Another is a journalist who found out about the arson, and didn’t break the story bc guy 1’s father bribed him. There’s a fire inspector who learned the truth and was bribed by the guy’s dad not to tell too. A city planner who was bribed into selling permits for the land. And Brit, who was the girl who paid for the arson, bc she wanted to make an apartment complex, and maybe actually knew about the 8 people and might have deserved some real payback–it’s unclear???? Regardless. I want to add that the cops had been investigating, had a strong case, and were about to arrest them and hold these people accountable in a legal manner, which John knew bc HOFFMAN WAS IN HIS POCKET, and John so hated the idea of them facing justice justice, he kidnapped them. The fire inspector got dragged into saw blades by her throat and torn apart, the journalist died to a nail bomb, and the city planner got electrocuted in a bathtub. The two who made it had their arms split down the middle up to the elbow to let enough blood out to save them.  I cannot. Just.

Anyway. In six, again at DEAD JOHN WHO WON”T QUIT FUCKING EVERYTHING UP’s request, a ‘game’ is played and William Easton (one of my fave protagonists bc he’s a piece of shit but damn if he didn’t have a real glow up in forty-five minutes) is thrown into a hell circuit. 

And so, undeservingly, is like, EVERYONE he fucking knows! His janitor Hank is first up. Target for…what was it? OHhhhhh right. He smokes. That was why. That makes so much sense john I’m sorry I doubted you PSYCH I CAN"T EVEN SAY IT AS A JOKE I JUST THREW UP A LITTLE IN MY MOUTH JOHN QUICK Q? WHAT THE FUCK? oh wait it’s because your an ABSOLUTE BASTARD. You would think I would get desensitized but no. It just. It’s fuel on the flame of my rage.

William Easton and the janitor, Hank, are hooked into something that slowly tightens and crushes their ribs any time they take a breath, and whoever doesn’t die first gets to live, and poor goddamn Hank smoked so ofc he can’t outlast a healthy dude in his 30s and John crushes his ribs just to make William watch someone die. Then he makes William pick which of two people to save in trial 2. MEANING HE GODDAMN STRAIGHT UP KIDNAPPED THESE TWO TOTALLY FINE WITH EITHER DYING, IN FACT WITH THE SOUL PURPOSE BEING TO DIE bc who cares about them right John? You fucking pretentious self-righteous creep! I have a year of the Pig teddy bear I named after Peter Strahm JUST for the FUCKING satisfaction of knowing John would hate that bc he was so into year of the motherfucking pig. ANyway. Plot again. Poor file clerk at Williams firm and the poor secretary are the two targets, and literally they did jack shit!!! They work for shitty lawyers but all they do is clock in to a 9-5 and file shit!! They are literally just there to rub it in William’s face that insurance policies aren’t fair bc according to them, one of the humans is worth more than the other bc health and age, but uuuuh oohhh William the older one with health issues is p hard to kill face to face bc you know her and she has kids and the young healthy man in his early 20s family is dead and he doesn’t have friends which means according to John he is worth less bc JOHN DOES THINK YOU CAN CHOOSE BETWEEN LIVES and all of this is here just bc John somehow thought it would be fun to fucking WIN A GODDAMN “I’M RIGHT” ARGUMENT WITH A LAWYER at the expense of brutally hanging a human being with barbed wire!!! 

Sidebar–if John Kramer was a real human being, I would go yearly on a fucking pilgrimage to his grave just to SPIT on his stupid corpse. I HATE HIM SO MUCH. 

K so young man dies. Then test 3 his attorney dies too, I don’t know much about her, except she is just there to make William feel like shit and they were into each other, and she tries to kill William after he gets hurt trying to save her bc he has the key to her trap in his stomach or chest idr, but she doesn’t get the key in time and dies, and then test 4 he finds his associates strapped to a carousel with a shotgun that picks one at random and blows off their head, and has to let all but two of them get gunned down and choose which two not to kill. And again, they’re kind of shittyass lawyers, but uh. Yeah. To save two, he has to let this huge piece of metal rip through his hand, but William does it and destroys his hand to save the two he can, and suffers picking while they all beg him to pick them bc John wanted to see him suffer picking between human lives again because he’s a goddam self-centered stuck up jerk who vales human life less then admiring his ugly ass dick in the mirror every day and pretending he’s a member of Mensa, the evil utterly irredeemable sack of shit. Anyway, at the end, William has never had a chance to live or die at all! And John was literally just torturing him for fun and killed /all/ those people not even for a test for William but /solely/ to make him suffer bc human lives DON"T MATTER ONE FUCKING IOTA to JOHN SHITASS KRAMER. WHO JUST WANTED TO WIN. AN INTELLECTUAL ARGUMENT. POST-MORTEM. BECAUSE he’s THAT kind of shittyass, pretentious, sanctimonious, better than thou, always right, incapable of wrong, smartest fucking asshole in the room man!!! I bet he doesn’t ever wash his hands when he takes a piss! I KNOW IT! FUCK John Kramer! 

ANd OH! William gets killed by a kid who hates him bc he turned down their father’s insurance policy fraudulently, knowing he would die of an illness without the money. BC William was terrible. Which is /so/ great for that fucking teenager! Killing someone horribly with acid while you watch them die and their body be melted! And they beg you not to do it and apologize on the other side of bars, already beat to shit, and plead for forgiveness, and your mom begs you not to, and the dude’s sister sobs and begs you not to!!! SO GOOD! Way to go john you FUCKING CUNT, they definitely value their lives now you goddamn motherfucking souless sack of shit!

I-I don’t even have the energy to do the other Saw movies or go back over the other victims in Saw one WHO DID NOTHING WRONG. John just hated them!!! BC HIS WIFE KNEW THEM! In most cases! John just fucking hates drug addicts! OK u know what here’s the short version even if I can’t do them justice rn bc I’m pissed!!! One guy got sliced to death on razor wire for cutting when he was depressed bc John is a piece of shit, one got burned to death after walking on glass for hours bc John doesn’t believe in invisible illnesses and if you’re walking you must be healthy, oh yeah! And the fucking dude Amanda killed in her first trial was just a drug addict! Going to a recovery clinic! He never had a chance to live on his own bc the only choice was if Amanda would cut open his intestines and sift through him for a key while he was awake but too drugged to move or not, and she did! Didn’t even get to plead for his life! ANyway!!!! Fucking as far as I can tell all Zep did was work at the goddamn hospital! He WENT OUT OF HIS WAY TO BE NICE TO JOHN and told other people he was a cool dude!!! He was just a janitor!!! WHAT THE FUCK???

I just. God. I hate everything about John Kramer. The way he talks makes me so LIVID I change color like a goddamned chameleon. He is so ready to argue his stupid shitty fucking ethics with anyone who breathes in a ten mile radius. Shithead John over here will strap you to a table and make you listen to him talk about how it’s not his fault he poisoned two people and gave them one antidote and a bunch of knives and one of them came out dead, and his hands are clean and people don’t value their lives so they should die while he watches eating fucking cereal I am just–I am so glad John has cancer? Like, the idea of Saw sans John having cancer is unbearable, because I am so afraid the writers would never let him die and we would never be free of the human cancer that is John. The only human being on the planet that has ever been able to make me root for the cancer. But boy in that one and only regard, John is special.

I hate him so much it is unbelievable. Like. I can’t even put it into words. THe pure, unbridled fury I feel when I hear John say, “D’oh ho ho, but I, with these two little handies of mine, hath never pulled the gun’s trigger! Got you there! Where is your science! Where is your god! I am no murderer! I heal people! By sawing off their faces! You just do not understand, oh poor unenlightened human that you are. May you be strapped to a machete car and blessed with my wisdom  😔” I absolutely lose control of 90% of normal human functionality, and all that I have left is righteous justice and bloodlust. It’s unbelievable.

Whichever one of you god-mode-brain peeps made that post saying Eric Matthews had the hardest test in the whole Saw franchise because he had to sit and listen to John Kramer talk for two hours was a GODDAMNED HERO and if you contact me and prove the tumblr account is yours I will paypal you ten dollars and a personalized note thanking you for the joy that gave me because I just really hate John Kramer that FUCKING MUCH. I would cut off my own toes to be able to have something to shove down John Kramer’s throat to make him stop. talking.

There are a lot of things in this world I hate bc I hate things that are unjust, but I hate absolutely nothing more in the universe than a villain who is a self-righteous, hypocritical asshole who won’t even admit that what they are doing is wrong and parades as the tragic genius hero despite knowing GODDAMN well that they are a petty, shitty, hypocritical, absolute fucking MONSTER with no redeemable qualities or capacity for love. And John Kramer is at least my second least favorite character in the history of ANYTHING. Maybe my first. I’m not even sure anymore! Nasty-ass, evil, pretentious, self-righteous, shortsighted, selfish, sadistic, voyeuristic, willfully ignorant, crusty ass useless soulless garbage little SHIT.