#no you can’t sit in my room it’s for real bitches only who pay their rent on time

[cinewhore]

my roommate being madly homophobic and me being gay hm i wonder how this ends

[niceboyeds]

but daddy i love him (e.m)

pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader

summary: sometimes you have to put the gossipers in their place, and sometimes you have to give them something to talk about. inspired by none other than the masterpiece that is The Tortured Poets Department!

contains: bullying, fluff, language, sexual innuendos if you squint, i think that's it but please reach out if i missed anything!

word count: 1.2K

a/n: hi babies I'm baaaack! with that said I'm rusty so please don't hurt my feelings lmao. i have an idea for a smutty pt. 2 if enough of you want it! okay here we go...

(tagging some mutuals so i don’t get lost in the blackhole: @luvmunson @ghosttownwherenoonegoes @munsonology @lightvixxen @ali-r3n @espressomunson 🫶)

masterlist

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

there was always something exciting about being with a bad boy. but then again, there was nothing “bad” about Edward Munson. he may get a bad rap but, aside from his lunchbox goodies, he is a gentleman before anything else. and a damn good lover. 

you sit in the diner with your friends, snickers and snide remarks could be heard all throughout the room and dozens of eyes burn into the back of your head for what felt like the millionth time. unfortunately that’s one of the prices to pay living in a small town like Hawkins.

Eddie is better than you, though, and doesn’t let it get the best of him. and while you know you could never physically fight someone, you still aren’t shy enough to threaten it. you are, to put it gently, less “reserved” with your words, and make sure to put the lonely housewives and their preppy children in their place about their assumptions of him. 

things have gotten worse as your dating life has expanded out beyond the four walls of Eddie’s quaint trailer or the few friendly drunks at the hideout once a week. you and Eddie both craved being together in public and decided long ago that you don’t care who has something to say about it. 

besides, you know who the real Edward Munson is, you don’t believe what the judgmental church-goers or ex-cheerleaders think of you. the only time it gets you is when you can see it hurting him. 

throughout lunch you keep one hand in his, feeling him tense up every so often when he hears his name come out of their mouths. 

“i wouldn’t be caught dead with that freak!” you hear from a group of your old classmates’ table followed by an eruption of laughter. 

Eddie squeezes your hand three times before letting go, scooting his chair out from the table and excusing himself to the restroom. the friends at your table all look to you for the next move, enough looks of defeat for you to end this once and for all. with a soft smile, you throw a $20 bill on the table and rise from your seat. 

“sorry guys.” you sigh, motioning for them to gather their things to leave as you push in your chair and make your way to the table across the room. Dustin trots his way to the restroom to grab Eddie as you hear Robin say your name softly, urging you to leave it be but everyone knows you can’t.

“hey guys! how are you?” you beam at your old friends, doing your best to smile at them. “Stacy, Lauren, Molly…” you exaggerate her name, informing her you heard her comment loud and clear. 

mumbles of good’s and small nods emit from them and their eyes bounce to one another nervously. “aw that’s so good to hear!” you beam, “i’m doing great too, in case you were curious. ya know, i couldn’t help but overhear you guys chatting over here and i just felt like i needed to come say hi.” their smiles drop immediately as you talk, and you let them sit in their fear of what you’ll say next. 

“yeah, you know what they say… once a bitch always a bitch, right?” silence fills the diner and you hear Max cough to cover her giggle at the door. 

“i’m sorry?” Lauren scoffs, genuinely unable to comprehend the fact that you might be putting them in their place. 

“aw, you should be. because let’s face it, it’s pretty embarrassing that we graduated years ago and you still act like this.” you look at them with pure disgust, knowing they haven’t changed in the slightest. you speak with confidence, your tone still friendly, “and to think you used to truly care for me.”

“w-we do still care for you. we just want what’s best for you.” Stacy chirps as the other two nod along with her.

“what’s best for me? pretending like you’re all some fucking saints walking around and saying you’re praying for me to ‘come to my senses’ as if i have no control over my own life? who i love is my choice, so save your prayers for yourself because you’re the most judgmental creeps i’ve ever met.”

you turn to leave, your sweet group of friends still standing by the door waiting for you, Eddie having joined them just in the heat of your argument. reaching for his hand, you crack open the door and turn one last time to their table. 

“and by the way? i’m having his baby!” their eyes widen with horror and their mouths fall agape as you follow Eddie through the door and giggle, skipping to be directly next to him.  

“woah, woah, woah?! you’re pregnant??” Steve asks, genuinely unsure as you laugh at his question. 

“no, i’m not. but oh my god did you see their faces??” 

Eddie chuckles alongside you, and you feel relieved he’s made light of the situation along with you. “yeah, not yet.”

~~~~~~~~

you sit on the couch with Eddie seated directly in front of you on the shaggy carpet. one by one you twirl his messy curls into ringlets with an unfathomable amount of hair products. you feel his once tense body relax against your knees as he twiddles with the frayed pieces of your blue jeans. 

“it’s true, y’know…” he says softly, barely above a whisper. 

“what’s that?” you ponder, curious more-so as to why his tone has saddened during your comfortable silence.

“what they all say. that you’d be better off with someone else- someone other than me..?”

“no, i don’t think they know what the hell they’re talking about.” your hands continue to work on his hair, with only a few sections left you couldn’t allow yourself to leave it be. But you continue to reassure him. 

“Eds, i don’t care that they think i shouldn’t be with you. i want to be with you. I love you. isn’t that what matters? not what all these bored-ass people think, but what we want?” 

“you… you love me?” he turns his head to face you once you drop the final curl back against his head. an ear to ear grin plastered on his face and his eyebrows wiggle. 

“of course i love you, silly. i love you more than i have the words to express.” you tell him truthfully, knowing in your heart that he is the man for you. 

“i love you too. i love you so fucking much.” 

he stands up from his crouching position, pulling you up from the couch with him. your lips instinctively crash into his. 

you interlock your fingers around his neck, trying to bring him closer to you as if you weren’t already impossibly close to him. you sloppily kiss each other before you pull away from him, a small string of saliva still connecting you to him as your lips separate. 

“eww!” you laugh, before pulling him by the hand and dragging him down the hallway to his bedroom. “come on, slow poke!”

“hey! i thought you said you weren’t having my baby.” he teased, bringing up the silly comment you had said earlier at the diner. 

“yeah, not yet.”

[cowpokeomens]

@honeytama I’m so glad u asked

VAMPIRE JOLLY AHHHHH MY CLIT EXPLODED-

Sorry sorry okay so 😔 vampire jolly 😔 you saw a listing for a “personal assistant” and like, you’re desperate, okay? It’s paying damn near six figures and you didn’t realize moving to the city meant your rent would be $1600 a MONTH for the most humble one bedroom apartment you’d ever seen in your life. Never mind your aging cat and her exorbitantly priced fresh food and medication- Anyways! You don’t love the idea but you can’t beat the money, and it says they’ll comp you for gas, so fuck it! You can try! You apply and the person who listed says they’d be happy to interview you over dinner, Nice!

Only it’s a swanky restaurant, nicer even than the place you went to for your high school graduation with that one not-quite grandparent who owns multiple boats. And suddenly you feel very underdressed in your discounted Old Navy attire- though you at least had the sense to not wear jeans, so that’s a win? Whatever! You go in, tell the maître d’ that you’re a guest of some J. Karlsson, and then you try to ignore the way his eyes widen in shock! You don’t like that at all! You certainly don’t like the way you’re whisked clear through the restaurant, past the patrons whose eyebrows raise at the sight of your $12 loafers that you totally didn’t score from Amazon, into a dimly lit and empty backroom.

Only, it’s not empty? There’s a lone figure, sitting at a small table, barren save for a glass of wine. The room is illuminated by a few candles on the table, and you’re immediately like “damn I’m about to be made into a lampshade :-/ someone pls feed Snowball her vitamins when I’m gone 🙏” but then the person looks up and!

Oh!

What the fuck!

Because he’s HOT. He’s devastatingly hot, it’s unfair how hot he is, it’s unfair that you’re wearing Spanx that are two sizes too small because they’re from your junior prom, it’s unfair that you’re here in a pair of Old Navy slacks that dig into said Spanx uncomfortably, its unfair that his hair is cascading around him like some kind of sexy chocolate waterfall and your hair just sits there like normal fucking hair, it’s deeply deeply unfair that when he surveys you from behind the rim of his wine glass you want to roll over and bare yourself to him like a bitch in heat! But the world is cruel, so you pull out the chair opposite of him awkwardly, slumping down into it and immediately gnawing on your lip in anxiety.

His eyes are drawn to the movement, so you stop, correcting your posture and trying to look like a real person! He looks away, and you think he might even be 🤨 trying not to laugh 🤨 which would be charming if you weren’t so nervous! You don’t know if you’re supposed to say something or if he is, but he solves the problem by extending a hand and saying “hello, I’m Joakim Karlsson.” And you’re not a wild animal, you shake his hand back and introduce yourself, but then you realize how fucking cold his hands are and you can’t stop yourself from blurting “iron pills help with that!! I used to have freezing fingers and toes, but then I started taking iron and-“ and then you see that he’s looking very amused, so you shut up, because he’s a grown man he probably knows about iron supplements you dipshit-

But then he’s like “I’ll have to give that a try.” And you’re like aha I am already the best personal assistant in the land!! A waiter blessedly comes over and fills your wine glass, and it smells much nicer than the boxed stuff you usually get, so much nicer than you’re beginning to wonder if you can even afford to try it-

“Go ahead. Dinner is on my bill.” And you don’t need to be told twice, grabbing the glass and taking a tentative sip before accepting that, yeah, this is way nicer than Franzia could ever be. Your eyes slide over to his glass, brows furrowing when you realize it looks a lot….. deeper than yours? Almost thicker.

He follows your trail of sight and says “different bottle. A bit… fresher.” And you nod because you don’t know shit about wine, and who are you to judge if he wants to get himself something nice!! You’re sure whatever he spent on this glass for you was probably spare change compared to what his preferences are. Wine got grosser the more expensive it was, right? Or something like that.

You forget what you were thinking of when he leans forward, elbows bent for his face to rest on his hands, eyes locking with yours. “You applied for the personal assistant position.”

And you are so smart, you even remember to nod!

His mouth twitches, like he’s fighting off a grin, as he continues. “Do you have a resume with you?”

You nod again, brilliantly. He gives you a meaningful look, waiting, and you realize he probably actually wants to see the damn thing. So you scramble to pull it out, handing it over unceremoniously, and your hands are totally not absolutely shaking! Not at all why would you say that-

“Any previous experience in this line of work?” His eyes are on the paper- the pink paper, you groan internally, because you somehow thought that adding a “personal flair” would compensate for lack of actual expertise when you printed it off at 3AM last night.

“Um, I worked in a secretarial position in college, and then I was in an office for a few years-“

“But not specifically in the realm of personal assistantships?” His eyes dart up to you once, quickly, before resuming their perusing.

You really do try not to deflate like a sad birthday balloon. “Well, not specifically, no.”

He nods, closing your poor little resume folder, setting it down on the table. “Can we speak candidly?”

And you’re like he’s literally going to tell me I am the stupidest dumbest person in the world and I should walk directly into oncoming traffic and also I held my wine glass wrong because I’m an idiot but then he says “I’m really prioritizing discretion over experience. To be frank, you’re not qualified for this position-“ and the air literally hisses out of you because you are the saddest birthday balloon in the grocery store right now- “and don’t look so sad, it’s fine. I don’t care that you’ve never fetched coffee for a living. But, I do care about my privacy.” And then he’s leaning in and you can smell him and you didn’t know people could smell sexy!!! But he smells sexy!!! Is this nosefucking?? Is that what’s happening?? It takes you a full second to realize he’s speaking again but you tune in to the best of your ability “… and I’m just not particularly inclined to have someone writing a memoir about working for me after they choose to pursue other passions. You understand, I’m sure.”

And yeah you understand what you heard so you nod again!! And then he’s cocking his head to the side slightly, staring you down with an intensity that makes your cheeks heat up and you pussy clench on thin air as he inhales deeply through his nose before nodding once. “A trial run, then. I’ll have the paperwork sent over tonight. Please take your time to read through it, and let me know if you have any questions or concerns.”

He’s standing up then (was he that tall this whole time?? You didn’t think so??), so you stand up too, reaching for your bag, but he’s waving you off with one hand as he downs his wine with the other. “Stay, finish your wine, order a meal. I have business elsewhere, but as I said- the bill is taken care of.” And he’s walking away, some waiter magically procuring his jacket out of thin air! But then he stops! Turns back to you! Says, “Don’t forget dessert. Thank you for your time, enjoy your evening.” And then he’s gone! Poof! And you’re like????? What?????? Anyways I guess I have to write this now.

[ladykailitha]

In the Midnight Hour Part 3

And here we come to the REAL reason I started this AU.

Part 1 Part 2

*

Steve picked Robin up to take her to school. And she was chattering away like she always did.

“Like it’s hilarious,” Robbin was saying. “Andy and Chase, not having the energy to do anything. They’ve apparently been benched twice because they can barely stand let alone dribble a ball.”

Steve hummed. “Anyone else on the team that’s been lethargic?”

Robin thought for a moment. “Not on the basketball team. There were a couple other jocks that had that long and drawn out look, but they’re better off, I guess. Able to function and shit, but like pale.”

Steve raised an eyebrow. “Sounds like a vampire or some such shit.”

“Ewww,” she crowed. “Are there vampires in DnD? Could this be an Upside Down thing?”

Steve chewed on his lips. “I don’t know, Robs. I’m not well versed in this shit. I’d the hitter not the planner.”

“I’ll talk to the dweebs at lunch,” Robin sighed. “See what their thoughts are on this.”

Steve nodded.

“What are you doing today?” she asked as he pulled up the school.

“I have the day off so I thought I’d visit Wayne again,” Steve murmured.

Robin’s shoulders sagged. “You don’t have to keep doing this. He’s a grown man, he can take care of himself.”

Steve chewed on his lip. “It helps...me.”

Her eyes softened. “I’m sorry. I know it’s hard for you to lose anyone, even if you didn’t get a chance to know him.”

Steve just nodded.

She patted his shoulder and then left for school.

He drove straight to the Motel 6 and pulled into the parking lot. Thanks to Eddie being a part of the “team” or party or whatever the government had deigned to give Wayne Munson the ‘pay off’ or whatever to keep his mouth shut about the Upside Down.

So he was living in a motel until he could get a bank to look at him to buy a house.

Steve walked up to room six and knocked.

Wayne opened the door. “Back again, Harrington?”

Steve smiled. “Maybe I just like your company.”

Wayne scoffed. “No one likes my company these days. Well except you and that Henderson kid.”

“Dustin’s been by?” Steve asked, looking down at his feet.

“He still not talking to you?” Wayne asked softly.

Steve shook his head. “Thinks it should have been me instead of Eddie. I thought I share.”

“Survivors’ guilt is a hell of thing,” Wayne agreed.

“You were in the Vietnam war, right?” Steve asked, sitting down on the one chair in the room.

“The government always were sick sons of bitches,” Wayne said gruffly.

Steve scoffed. “Tell me about it.”

Wayne frowned. “And what would you know about that?”

Steve looked around. “You think this room is bugged?”

Wayne’s eyebrows shot up. He hadn’t pegged Steve for a conspiracy nut, but then this wasn’t the normal teenage boy, either.

“No,” he replied. “I sweep for bugs every time I come back.”

It was Steve’s turn to look surprised. “Now, why would you do that, sir?”

“Why don’t you tell me what you know,” Wayne said, sitting on the bed and facing him, “and I’ll tell you what I know.”

So Steve did. He told him everything. From the beginning with Will all the way to the end with Eddie’s death and the return of Vecna.

“Shit,” Wayne said. “Had I known it was Henry Creel, I would grabbed my shot gun and helped hunt down the bastard.”

“You knew Henry Creel, sir?”

“I’m only a year older than that sick son of a bitch,” Wayne said. “I have my accent because I kept it. I want to remind every single one of those bastards that I am not here by choice.”

Steve frowned. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

“I was the wrong kind of powered,” Wayne said. “Can’t do much with an empath.”

“What’s an empath?”

“An empath is someone who can feel other people’s emotions. I can immediately tell what mood someone is in no matter how good they are at masking it,” Wayne explained. “Can’t weaponize feeling things. They tried to get me use it feel out foreign heads of state. Are they nervous, happy, angry? The problem was that they could be mad about their toast being burnt that morning and not angry at being at the meeting. So I was dumped in a town that hated people who were different.”

“What was your number?” Steve asked.

Wayne shook his head. “Different project. I had a name, not a number. I was the precursor to whatever shit they got Henry involved in. And your friend, too.”

“What about your parents, your brother?” Steve asked. “Didn’t your family care what happened to you?”

Wayne shrugged. “My parents were happy to take the money the government gave them to keep their mouths shut and my brother was their golden child. I grew up in the care system here and got a job right out high school.”

Steve winced. “Is that why you offered to take Eddie, because you didn’t want him in the system?”

Wayne smiled. “I don’t know why your friends think you’re the dumb one, you seem pretty quick to me.”

“When it comes to people, sure,” Steve said with a small smile. “Not when it comes to everything else.”

Wayne smiled back. “I think you and I are the same, thinking with our hearts and not our heads.”

Steve straightened up and grinned. “I don’t have powers, though.”

Wayne just shook his head. “You’re here about Eddie, aren’t you?”

“I know Dustin told you he died,” Steve said.

“But he’s not dead,” Wayne said. “I can still feel him.”

Steve’s jaw dropped. “Come again?”

“I’m real close to Eddie,” Wayne explained. “I can feel his emotions better than anyone. When Dustin came and said he died. He wasn’t wrong. Not then.”

Steve closed his eyes and lower lip shook. “I think Vecna‒Henry brought him back as a vampire or something similar.”

Wayne nodded. “He’s not quite right, my Eddie. When he was brought back I mean, not before.”

“He’s been visiting me,” Steve admitted shyly.

“How long?”

“A few weeks,” Steve said softly. “I was having nightmares and hallucinations before this and thought he was one of them.

Wayne nodded. “What made you decide he might be the real deal?”

Steve threw his head back and groaned. “This is so embarrassing.”

“I’m waiting,” Wayne said playfully.

“His hair.”

“You want to run that past me one more time?” Wayne asked.

“I’ve been able to ‘touch’ my hallucinations before,” he said put air quotes around touch. “But this was different. I’d never touched his hair prior to his death so I should have no frame of reference for what it should feel like.”

Wayne nodded. “Ah. I gotcha. You expected it to feel a certain way and when you touched it, it didn’t feel that way.”

“Exactly!” Steve said, snapping his fingers. “And that’s why I’m here. You needed to be the first to know that Eddie was back. And that there might be a chance to bring him home.”

Wayne nodded, tears filling up his eyes. “You’re a good man, Steve Harrington.”

Steve shook his head. “I’m really not. But if it was the other way round, I’d be pissed if no one told me there was a chance to save him.”

Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11  Part 12  Part 13

Tag List: @thequeenrainacorn @savory-babby @chaoticlovingdreamer @grtwdsmwhr @renaissan-vvitch @panicatthediaz @swimmingbirdrunningrock

[tokusaatsus]

hello! can i req leo and natsume (sep) with a reader that bought a mini key chain of them and started to pay more attention to it and started calling affectionate nicknames to the keychain and they were getting salty about it hehe

☆—SAKASAKI NATSUME

“Oya~ What’s thIS?” A hand reaches out to swipe the nui from under your nose and you scowl.

“None of your business. Give it back!”

Natsume chuckles as he twirls the little nui version of himself in his hands. “Aw, did my kitten miss me that muCH?”

“No way!” God, you wish you hadn’t bought the nui, just so you wouldn’t be dealing with this right now. Actually, that’s a lie, you’d’ve bought it regardless. You knew you were setting yourself up for this when you saw that little Natsume nui lying on the shelf, abandoned by the rest of its comrades. Its beady little eyes and sarcastic smirk were so reminiscent of the real thing, you just had to have it.

“Sure, whatever you sAY.” He tosses the nui over to you before sauntering out the door, and you carefully cradle it close to your chest.

Hmph.

You have no idea why you hang around him.

You idly flip through a spellbook with instructions on how to turn your enemy into a frog for a week and wonder if you could use this one on Sena the next time he calls your fashion sense ‘tacky’, bored out of your mind as you watch Natsume brew one of his special concoctions. Ugh…

At least the little nui is there to keep you company.

“You’re such a good boy, aren’t you, Natsu-chan~” You coo, rubbing his scruffy little head.

“Wh-what did you sAY?” Natsume's head whips around to look at you so fast, you swear you can hear a crack. You think you can see a hint of red on his cheeks, but it might just be the lighting. Natsume doesn’t like artificial light in his secret room, so there are little red lava lamps–brought by yours truly–scattered around as a light source.

You frown. “I wasn’t talking to you, though?”

“You literally said my naME.” Natsume deadpans. There’s a blue glow spilling over the sides of the beaker in front of him. You point at it, understandably concerned.

“You gonna get that or…?”

“LatER.” He waves you off. His eyes are laser-focused on you. “Then who were you talking TO?”

You remove the book to show the newly christened Natsu-chan sitting happily in your lap. “Tah-dah…”

Natsume’s eye twitches. “NevermiND.”

Natsume’s been huffier than usual around you, you think. His insults are more vicious, and he’s actually aiming to hurt instead of the usual barbs traded between the two of you. He barely even looks at you, and you’re starting to get pissed off.

If he has a problem with you, why doesn’t he deal with it like an adult instead of being a little fucking baby and cutting contact?

You decide to confront him.

“NATSUME!” You fume as you slam open the door to the secret room, “Stop being a little bitch and talk to me like an–oh.”

Natsume, who’s glowering at the floor, looks up when you barge in. His eyes widen with surprise, which then fades to sullenness. “What are you doing heRE?”

You fix the redhead with a vicious glare. “You! You’ve been avoiding me. What’s your problem?”

“Why do you caRE?” He sniffs. “You have Natsu-chan, don’t yOU?”

You blink, disconcerted. This was not what you came here for, but something in Natsume’s voice sounds almost…

“Wait…are you jealous?”

Natsume’s face turns as red as his hair and you know you’ve hit the mark. Seriously? Your face must show your incredulity because he grimaces.

You force yourself not to break into a smile. “Natsume, c’mon. It’s literally a stuffed toy.”

He flares up, cheeks puffed out with anger. You want to pinch them. “But you saID– You liked him bettER!”

You can’t help it. You giggle. “Natsume~ It’s okay. If it makes you feel better, I’ll stop paying attention to Natsu-chan. I only bought him because he looked like you, anyway.”

“RealLY?” Any trace of embarrassment somehow evaporates as he gives you a smug smirk. You marvel at the change. Were your assurances that much of a confidence boost…? “Oh, kitten, you’re too cuTE.”

Well, you sigh as an irk mark forms above your forehead. At least he’s back to normal now…

☆—TSUKINAGA LEO

“Senaaaa~ Look at this!”

“Wh–Get it away from me!?”

The sound of multiple crashes echoes from behind the Knights’ practice room and you pause with your hand raised to knock. Do I really want to risk it…? You could just quit while you’re ahead, you’re sure Hasumi-kun would understand. Despite the fact that you would consider yourself tentative friends with most of the unit members, dealing with Knights is a headache at the best of times, and you know Hasumi-kun has a soft spot for you.

Alright, that’s it, then. Time to leave. You’re about to leave when a hand catches your sleeve. You turn to see Ritsu-kun staring at you. Don’t do it, you desperately try to communicate with your eyes

“Tsukipi~” He calls, tugging you in through the now open door. “Look who’s here~”

You shoot him a betrayed look. The audacity!?

“Wahahaha ☆!” Leo-kun bounds up to you, and you narrowly miss getting body-slammed. He waves something…small and orange in front of your face and you go cross-eyed trying to figure out what exactly it is before you realise it’s…

A mini Leo-kun?

“Look at this, Y/N! It’s our son ☆!”

You slowly inch backwards. Ritsu-kun notices this and pushes you forward before he escapes through the gap. The door then shuts with an ominous click. Curses. Foiled again…

A hand fists itself in the collar of Leo-kun’s shirt and forcibly hoists him away from you. “Stupid ou-sama,” Izumi-kun clicks his tongue. “Personal space exists, you know.”

“But Senaaaa… Y/N doesn’t mind! Right, right?”

Put on the spot, all you can do is stare wide-eyed. “Uh…sure… Actually, I just came to drop these off.” You wave the stack of papers. “And then I’ll leave…”

“You can’t leave!” Leo-kun struggles out of Izumi-kun’s hold to clasp your hands in his pleadingly. “What about our son? Would you just abandon him like this? Look into his face and tell him that his other parent is going to leave him…”

You stare at him as he offers up the omanjuu, which you take with warily. “Lion-chan, your other parent is going to leave you…”

Leo-kun collapses backwards, clutching his chest dramatically. “How could you be so cruel? You’re worse than Sena…!”

“Oi! Don’t bring me into your lovers’ spat!”

Leo-kun ignores this, and keeps going. He’s really milking this, he actually sounds depressed. “Abandoning your son and husband like this? Leaving me to raise our baby alone, our own flesh and blood, our–” Our what!? It’s literally a plush toy? And who said he was your husband!? Before you can voice any protests, he pauses and you watch as something seems to click in his brain. “What did you call Leomanjuu?”

Leomanjuu? “...Lion-chan?”

“B-but you didn’t give me a nickname?”

You frown. “...? Leo-kun isn’t a nickname?”

“Not a special one! Loads of people call me Leo…”

You deadpan. That’s because it’s your fucking name!?

“I want a special nickname ☆! One that only you can call me!”

Izumi-kun looks tired when he speaks but sounds annoyed. “Just humour him. He’s too jealous to focus right now.”

Jealous? Of what, the omanjuu? You shift Lion-chan closer to your chest, and you’re surprised that Leo-kun hasn’t set Lion-chan on fire with the force of his glare. He reaches forwards to pluck Lion-chan out of your hands and tosses him to a disgruntled Izumi-kun.

“Nickname! Now!”

“Um…” You’re blanking right now. “I don’t really have any nickname ideas right now so…how about I just call you Leo?” You offer.

Izumi-kun stumbles. Leo-kun–Leo–brightens. “Yes, yes, yes ☆! Say it! Say my name!”

“Leo-kun…”

“Nope! It’s Leo or nothing!”

You sigh. Izumi-kun looks like he’s about to have an aneurysm. “Leo…”

“Yes?”

“...It’s nothing.”

☆—notes!

WC: 1.3k words

this prompt >>> is sososo cuteeee omg ^^ i’m not entirely sure?? how to write natsume?? so forgive me if he’s ooc qwq also I SWEAR i’ve been working on my reqs i’ve just been rlly busy cries also natsume calling us kitten is so cringy :’) like i can’t even. imagine being called kitten by a 2d boy i’d literally cry from embarrassment but mayb that’s just me. anyways! i hope u enjoyed this !! <33 mwah

[georgiapeach30513]

Got A Secret, Part 2

Summary:  It was all up to you to help sell a lie

Pairings:  Dayton White X Reader

Rating:  mild

Warnings:  language, gaslighting, manipulation, 18+ ONLY

Word Count:  2.3K

Previous

Series Masterlist

*dividers created by @firefly-graphics​

You walk into Dayton’s home living room, and MacRay holds out his hand to.  You raise up your eyebrow, and watch him wiggle his fingers around, palm facing up, “What?”

“Hand me your phone.”

“Why?”

He rolls his eyes as he looks you up and down, “You know the drill.  You’ve seen it a few times.  We went through your public social medias, but I need to know what’s on your phone.”

“Dayton!” He grimaces, but mouths out a please, and you hand it over to Doug, and sit in front of your ‘boyfriend’.  “So what other humiliating thing am I going to have to do?”

“We need a timeline.  It’s easy to put the two of you together, because you’re always there, but we need a narrative of when this started.  Especially to get rid of our other issue,” Ray sits down beside Dayton.  His gaze goes in between the two of you, while he waits on either of you to come up with a timeline.  

You didn’t care.  It didn’t matter.  It was all fake anyways, and you’d leave it up to the professionals.  Since they didn’t give you much of a choice, you weren’t going to help them.  It was absurd.  

“You’re on dating apps?” MacRay lifts up from your phone.  “Seriously?  And there's unopened messages.  Great.  Now we’ve got to pay these people off.”

“First off, I didn’t ask to be linked with Dayton.  I am doing him and you guys a favor.  He is your money.  You can’t sell him, you lose money.  Secondly, I joined a dating app because I’m always going from coast to coast for Dayton.  I don’t have time to date the traditional way.  So you can back off.  This is Dayton’s mess that I am obliging your stupid fantasy world to get him out of it, and I won’t be apologizing for being a woman and wanting a companionship.  Pay them off.  You ruined my chance of dating anyone ever again anyways.”

You were bitter, but more importantly you were sick and tired being made to be the bad guy in this situation.  Dayton was the one who screwed up, and you were doing all of them a favor, and they still had the audacity to like you were public enemy number one.  

“Shooting star,” Ray looks over at Dayton, and then back at you.  “We’re going to rebrand you as Dayton’s shooting star.  Try to keep you as private as possible.  And soon this will all be but a memory.”

“And then he goes and fucks another young girl.  Then what?  Maybe the real problem is Dayton’s inability to grow up and nurture real relationships.”

“Maybe you need to quit talking like I’m not here.”

“I didn’t ask for this life.  I didn’t want to be in the spotlight.  So yeah, I’m pissed off right now, and you’re going to get what I give you.  Be ready for constant sarcasm and anger, because that’s how I feel, and that’s how I’m dealing with this.  I met a nice guy.  He called me a bitch because I lied to him about my famous boyfriend.  You know, a little bit of a warning would have been nice.”

Doug hands your phone back, adn you don’t even want to look at what he could have removed.  You had watched in live time as your social medias were being modified right before your eyes.  Now everything you posted had to be pre-approved.  Your family was untagged from posts, so they weren’t part of this nonsense.  Things had only gotten started and you were exhausted.  

“Little Miss pop tart is putting a bit of a hitch in our timeline.  Dayton, you’re gonna have to take a hit,” Ray looks over at his client shrugging.  “She’s got time stamped texts.  You and Star over here had been talking, but it wasn’t serious.  But when you were ready, you dropped it all.  I’ll make sure that a source sends a tip into the gossip columns, and blogs.”

Well at least he wasn’t coming out unscathed.  And here you thought that Dayton was going to be the good guy in the scenario.  He looked sad, and you couldn’t quite put your finger on why.  He was saving his image, while you carried on a lie for who knew how long.

“How long is this supposed to last?”

“I’m thinking at least a year,” you sink back into the couch.  A year.  A whole year of playing a part.  It was annoying that you were the one putting your life on hold, and you didn’t even know why.  “I see you have questions, but Dayton has been selling the whole I want to settle down, wants to get married, and want to have kids for a while.  He had people talking about the fact that he was pandering to his audience.  This gives them a steady relationship to talk about.”

“It’s a lie.  And a year?”

“I figured that’s all you would agree to.  Two to three years would be ideal.  After the first seven months you’ll move in here.  There’s plenty of room that you can sleep somewhere else, but we’ve got to sell this,” unbelievable.  They were really trying to con you into covering up Dayton’s indiscretions.

“His fans and social media are actually responding well to this.  There’s a few naysayers, and we’re hoping with the public outing it’ll put this to rest,” Dayton was eerily quiet.  Just sitting there like a kicked dog with his tail in between his legs.  “But the overall reception had been positive,” you hated them all right now.  But Doug was particularly getting on your nerves.  It was always going to be about the image.

“So we’re going to do this downtown.  You’re going to have a nice lunch.  Go walking around, and even go to the grocery store.  Give the people the idea that you’re normal.  Mundane things sell.  Because you’re just like them.  I don’t care what you talk about, just look happy.  Look like you want to be together.  We’re going to have Mickey outside the restaurant, and he’ll follow you to the market, and he’ll wait on you outside.  I’m thinking you need to get some wine or beer.  A few snacks, make it look like you’re coming back here for a nice evening at home.  A few weeks from now, we’ll station some moving vans outside, and that will be all for awhile.”

You lean back staring at the ceiling, “I hate all of you.”

“You were the best option, and you have garnered favor with the fans.  It’ll be a big step for Dayton’s career and yours.”

“And Dayton says nothing,” you sit up and stare only at him, “You played me.  You could have had the decency to call me, text me, anything.  But no, you waited until I couldn’t say no.  You knew I wouldn’t.  You knew I would do what it takes to protect you and your precious image.  But after this…I can’t do this.  I can’t work for someone that won’t give me the courtesy of asking me if this is okay.”

“Great,” Doug claps his hands, standing up, “I got your stylists ready to coordinate your outfits.  And you can drive to the restaurant.”

“Do regret it?” You ask Dayton.  You lean your head over to look at him.  He looked too focused on driving, and the car was stifling.  There was too much tension, and it drove you nuts.  You hope he was able to act his ass off, because you still wanted to strangle him.

“Which part?”

“The stupid girl that you were fucking?” He quickly looks at you, and gives you a quick glare, before looking back at the road.  “The part that involved me?”

“If there was another way, don’t you think I’d take it?”

“Uh-uh.  What we’re not going to do is play your son story with me.  You got yourself into this mess, and like always, you’re letting someone else clean it up.  Do you regret getting me involved?”

Taking a deep breath, he pulls into the parking spot, and smiles over at you, “Since I have to be in this shitty situation, I’m glad it’s with you.”

“That’s not a fucking answer.”

“Media training, Shooting Star.  You’ll be getting it, too.  I’m sure there will be interviews.  You gotta learn to shit the narrative to be what you want it to be.  I’m thankful for you, and I’m glad that I have to have a fake relationship and live in girlfriend with you.  I am not implicating myself in this trivial game of questions that isn’t going to change anything.  It is what it is.”

“Normal people don’t do this,” he gets out of the car, and jogs over to your side.  Opening up your door as he lets you out.

“I’m not a normal person.  The photographer is going to be towards your left, under that boutique awning.  So when we come out of the restaurant, he’ll get what he needs, but he is following us.  We also have cell phones to worry about.  Everyone has the ability to catch us on video or camera.  We want photos.  Videos show everything.  Just go with it.  Pretend you actually like me.”

It was hard to do that considering you hated him at the moment.  

“I don’t like this.”

“Don’t open your mouth too much,” Dayton tells you, sliding his arm around your waist.  His hand settles on your hip, and you turn your head to look up at him, “Smile,” you give him your best nervous smile, and he leans down to kiss you.  Just a short quick peck, but there was a part of you that enjoyed it too much. The way his lips were so soft, and the way his matcha lingered in them, “Smile.  People read lips.  Keep it simple.”

“Okay,” you whisper, and his hands slides on your back, and into your hand.  Annoyingly you found his fingers weaving in yours romantic.  This is how you wanted to go out for a walk with a boyfriend.  Not a fake one either.  

He leads you into the grocery store, and you sigh in relief.  “Don’t drop your guard.  Cameras everywhere.  The only place we’re safe is at home,” his home.  Being forced to be your home shortly.  It wasn’t fair.  “You’re doing great, sweetheart.”

“And look at this,” Doug throws down a few gossip magazines that you push across the coffee table away from you.  You didn’t care.  Pulling the throw up closer around your neck, you lay down on the couch, and enjoy some warmth.  “You’re the talk of the town.  Got a few wanting exclusive interviews, and eventually we’re going to have to make this public relationship official.  How would you like to do it?  Joint instagram posts or an interview or…?”

“Wouldn’t it make more sense to wait until the moving vans gets here.  Give people something to speculate again?” You hated yourself.  Why would you offer this as a solution?  It did make perfect sense, but you didn’t want to help them out anymore than you already were.  “People enjoy the drama.  They enjoy figuring things out.  Leave a few cryptic messages, and they want to decipher them.  Want to know if they’re close to the real answer.”

“I like the way you’re thinking.  Play this game of what is going on a bit longer.  Is this real?  Is it a fling?  Is it marriage?”

“It’s not,” you deadpan.  Marriage would not happen out of this deal it was out of the question.

“Where’s Dayton?”

“He’s on a run.  He needed time to clear his mind.  I stayed home.  I don’t want to be more public than I have to be.  Now we’re in a bubble and a bigger radar, because people want to know the truth.  I’m sure your photographer has gotten paid, and has done well for these exclusives, and I just want to take a nap, and be left alone to deal with my thoughts about my fake relationship with my fake boyfriend.”

“You know,” He begins.  His voice was slimy and you hated the way it made you cringe.  As if this situation wasn’t bad enough, you felt icky with him.  “You don’t have to make this completely a transactional relationship.  You were on a dating website.  I’m sure in a year it’ll get lonely.  Have some fun.  From my understanding Dayton is a good lay.”

“Leave!”

“I’m just saying.  Things could turn real.”

“I don’t date actors,” you roll over on the couch, putting your back to him, and sigh.  “You never can trust them.”

While it would be easy to have something physical with Dayton, in the long run you knew it would make things more difficult.  You were stuck with him for at least a year.  Stuck in this house, and stuck on set with him.  Being around him was unavoidable now.  Add in a physical relationship, and it would get weird.  Possibly make you closer in ways, but at the same time, it would make things too real.  This wasn’t.  This was fake, and it was something you were selling to the public, and unfortunately also to your family that didn’t understand the game.

Things may only had just become, but you were about to be with Dayton non-stop.  Work with him, and come home to him.  Even on set, you would be going back to his room.  Everything relied on this little lie that was beginning to get bigger.  But there was no way you would trust Dayton with your emotions.  That kiss felt too real, and his hand felt too good on your skin.  You couldn’t get caught up in his fake feelings.  You wouldn’t.

Next

Masterlist

Taglist: @tis-thedamn-season @marveloustaylortot @pono-pura-vida @sstan-hoe @infatuatedjanes @missusbarnes-rogers @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @peaches1958 @thedarkplume @rebekahdawkins @seitmai @smile1318 @andydrysdalerogers

[loserarc]

the day started with a dream  that left a bad taste in his mouth. Not good or bad — the dream or its remnants — but a sign of things to come. He should be waking himself up by now. Instead, Steve drags his feet back to the dark of the kitchen. He left the windows open again, intentionally. In his defense, back when the sun was still high over the tall pines, it seemed the chill of winter had finally passed. He was standing in the same spot, hip leaning against the counter, happy to invite the summer in.

It could use the fresh air, this house. Or, given a second thought, the beating clump, ticking bomb, motor humming in his chest — the whatever-it-was forcing him to and from the kitchen.  That could probably use it, too. He wasn’t paying attention as the sun set behind the trees, though. He empties the last of a bottle into a glass — pointless in the end — and shivers. Time to give up on that shred of hope, checkered curtains drawn on the night once and for all. Maybe he’ll be right about the weather tomorrow. 

And tomorrow couldn’t come quickly enough. He sits himself down on the living room floor again, thankful for the spotless couch at his back and the rug under his cold feet, and hears that voice as clearly as when he dreamt it. 

@freakarc   /   “ No more secrets, okay? ” 

Not good or bad, the silence that followed when he opened his eyes and no one was there. Like it never happened at all, the effect or the cause, it was too early to decide how he felt beyond tired. He’s filled the emptiness with something else since then. Now, at his fingertips turning white around the edge of his glass, at his wet blinking, at the gaudy art installation of a lamp lighting this scene for no one, at no one, he’s angry. So that’s all he is. 

There’s that request still lingering, unaccepted the first few times he’d let himself hear it. Okay? This time he’s just angry enough to answer.  

“ Can’t even hear me, ”  he reasons, drowsily turning to face the wall. That’s not where his visitor would be listening from, is it? Ear to the surface? Where, from the other side, he’d recoil at the slap of Steve’s palm? And just in case anyone is listening, himself included, he laughs when he only lifts his knuckles to knock. Shave and-a hair-cut. 

Was he expecting more than the nothing to follow?

He leans back again, watching waves turn to ripples in his glass: not even his. And not his drink, either. This is good work he’s doing, polishing off what he thinks might be missed if anyone were to return.  “ So, what, ”  he tries again. With a different approach this time.  “ Lie to my face and that’s alright? ”  Angry at his almost-friend — why? — and at the sound of his own voice as he crosses the next line:  “ You think that kid deserved it? ”   Angry at the one who stranded him with himself.  “ I hope you can hear me, you know? Son of a bitch, I hope you can. ”

Of course he doesn’t. He’ll wake up knowing better, the last of his anger reserved for the headache he’s nursing, and then for the real offense: Steve didn’t do what he should have. He didn’t convince him there was nothing to prove. He wasn’t the kind of person to be trusted with a secret like that. 

The punishment fits the crime. The secrets have piled up. 

Steve lets his head rest against the wall.  “ What else were you going to say? ”  He doesn’t know who he’s talking to anymore.

[kissingdepressionlovinglife]

Paths

I don’t believe that relationships are necessarily mistakes, but damn I could have gone without some of the bullshit. Like my first “real” relationship that developed in high school and advanced to moving in together after I graduated. I could have gone without her controlling abusive behavior. I could have gone without the isolation from my friends and my family. I could have gone without the gaslighting and her constant accusations. That ended with her cheating on me, then her and her friend sitting around laughing at me…. until I finally lost my shit on her. After years of abuse and then her treatment of me in that moment, I completely lost all sense of my morals and character. I didn’t realize what I was doing until I found my hands around her throat. I will never be proud of that moment. Ever. And even after 18 years, I’m still ashamed of myself for that. That was the one and only time I have ever put my hands on someone I love or loved.

My second long term relationship was a little better. I was unhealthy though and I wasn’t perfect, nor was she. No one ever is. We started out great—doesn’t it always—but then I would constantly catch her in lies. Lie after lie after lie after lie. And still my dumb ass would stick around. I didn’t know what a healthy relationship looked like. I grew up with a mother who was loving or distant, depending on her mood that day. I had a father who took his frustrations out on my brothers with his fists. What the fuck did I know about love? Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

The second one lived for drama and chaos. If things were going great in our relationship or the friend group, she would create some shit to have some shit. She was infamous for not letting me just walk away to cool down. She would block doors. I can’t stand to feel trapped, and she knew that. I told her a lot of things that had happened to me and why I don’t like feeling trapped. Instead of respecting that, she used that against me. I was always careful with my anger level in this relationship. I was always afraid I was going to lose control again. If she could trap me in a room and I was able to turn my back to her or walk away---she would punch me in the back.  I remember the first time it happened. She was wanting to argue about who knows what and I didn’t. We were at her mother’s and I had to sleep on the couch. She came downstairs from her bedroom to talk and all I wanted to do was sleep. Nothing was going to get accomplished that night. I turned over, facing away from her, and then I felt the punch. I turned back towards; she had her hand over her mouth. I asked her if she just punched me. She just started crying and apologizing. I told her it was time for her to go back to her bedroom. Another time, I was leaving the apartment and again she punched me in the back. I laughed as I turned around and she started lying about how she went to grab me. I told her I have never tried to grab someone with a fist. I left that day and told her it was over. Still, I never hit her back. That breakup lasted a month. Back to her I went. After more years of bullshit it finally ended with her playing me while she was talking to some dude on the side. On the phone I was paying for. The last time she attempted to block me from walking away, I gently placed my hands on her hips and moved her. I didn’t shove her, push her, or forcefully move her. I gently moved her out of my way. This bitch had the audacity to say “I can’t believe you just put your hands on me!” I just looked at her and left.

As we know, there are two people in a relationship, so I’m sure if spoke with them they would have different accounts. I just know that I own up to my shit….and they didn’t while I was with them. With all that said, you have to go through the rainy days to appreciate the sunshine. I learned what I will and will not tolerate in relationships. Those paths lead me to the absolute love of my life. The woman who is the most precious person to me. The person who has SHOWN me what healthy love looks like. The person who has LOVED me through the good days and the bad ones. The person whose hands have only ever treated me with the love and respect I deserve. The person who encourages family relationships and friendships. The person who deserves everything in this life. The person who I am beyond grateful to call my wife.

[gaysimpsstuff]

Accidentally Injuring Their Partner PT. 2

Part One Here

Y’all- the last one is like, my most popular post. As I’m currently writing this, it’s literally almost at 1K notes so... yeah. This one needed a lot of thought and effort if it’s going to meet people’s expectations. 

Please read the note I added at the end of the fic

Genre: angst

Type: drabbleshot

Warnings: gore, mentions of hospitals, crying, cursing, toxic relationships, self blame, some real ‘who cares how I feel, how do you feel?’ kind of unhealthy vibes, hazbin hotel reference (found in Todoroki’s section), talking down on oneself,

Other: this was requested multiple times, but this bitch was planning it before it was requested haha I’m so cool no I’m not I still feel like shit lmao. 

Angst Taglist: @smolchildfangirl @combat-wombatus @mandalorian-baby-bird @waffleareniceandfluffy @catcherisvibin @thesubtlewhore

Tomura Shigaraki

It was really all he could do to stare at you.

You’d moved from the theatre to an abandonment hospital, mostly to find any leftover supplies to help with your arm, or rather, lack thereof.

You’d only sort of expected this. Tomura lashing out at you, you getting hurt, you just didn’t expect it to result in you loosing a fucking arm.

Toga was helping to change your bandages, and Magne was speaking quietly with Twice, Spinner, and Compress.

Dabi was speaking with Shigaraki outside the room, and you couldn’t hear what they were saying. You were glad, you didn’t exactly want to hear his voice right now.

You didn’t think you were being that annoying, you thought you were just helping him. And you usually did. When he’d have his little tantrums, he’d get upset at you sure, but he’d never hurt you.

You knew you didn’t do anything differently than usual, maybe he was just more stressed than ordinary? Maybe you should’ve recognized that and altered yourself to fit accordingly.

Or maybe he’d just been horrible, and attacked you for no reason, and you had just been trying to help him.

You knew it was more likely the latter, but you couldn’t help but blame yourself. People don’t just try to kill their partners that they love so much

The door slid open, and Dabi stepped in. He glanced around the room, waving his hand to usher Magne, Spinner, Twice, and Compress out of the room. Today stood up, but you grabbed her hand.

Dabi pushed the door open a little wider, and your boyfriend stepped inside. For once, you were glad he had that horrible hand in his face, you knew that if he took it off you’d probably vomit.

“Call us in if you need anything.” Dabi offered uncharacteristically, sliding the door shut behind him.

Everything was quiet.

Not even the people in the hallway wanted to say anything.

He slowly walked towards you, pulling up a chair and sitting down.

You sat cross-legged on the creaky hospital bed, staring at him as Toga held your hand.

“Why are you here?” You asked quietly.

“I- I um. Why is she here?” Tomura ignored your question, pointing to Toga next to you.

“She’s here because she chopped off my arm after you dusted it. She’s here because she saved my life. Why are you here, Tomura?”

One of his hands lifted to his neck, scratching lightly.

“Shit- I didn’t want anyone else in here-“

“Why not? Don’t want anyone to see you loose yourself and hurt me more? Don’t want anyone here to save me?” You snapped.

“You- you know I didn’t mean it-“

“It doesn’t matter if you meant it or not, Shigaraki.” He flinched away when you spat out his last name like that. “I still got hurt. I lost a fucking arm because of you. How horrible are you that you have to cover up your own insecurities by trying to kill me? No really, I could have died.”

“I’m sorry!” He exclaimed, nails digging deeper into his neck. “I love you, okay? And I promised I’d protect you so-“

“So you broke your promise in the worst way possible.” You swung your legs over the side of the bed, squeezing Toga’s hand before letting go. You walked up to Shigaraki, lifting your hand and gripping his shoulder tightly.

“I’m going.” You whispered. “I can’t be around you. I still have family outside the League, friends that aren’t villains. I can build myself a semi-normal life. I’ll be happy without you.” You turned back to Toga, offering her a smile. “You can come over whenever you want, you’re my friend.” You headed towards the door.

You paused when you heard a soft noise, like a gargled scream. You turned around, seeing Shigaraki shaking.

“No, no please no- don’t go!” He spun around, grabbing your shoulders. You shoved him off you in an instant, curling into yourself

“GET OFF ME!” You screamed. But he was already launching himself at you again, you saw his palm flying towards your face. This time, it wasn’t an accident.

And you knew you wouldn’t make it out this time.

You were pulled back by a strong force, realizing Magne was holding you tight. Compress and Dabi were on either side of Shigaraki, holding him back, while Twice had ran to Toga.

“No! I’m sorry! I’m so sorry! Please don’t leave me!” He screamed, the hand fell loose on his face, tumbling down to the floor. You turned away, not wanting to see him.

You could only imagine his expression.

“Goodbye, Shigaraki.” You whispered, ducking out of Magne’s grip and rubbing off.

“Goodbye.”

Touya Todoroki/ Dabi

It had been a week since he’d seen you, a week since he’d felt your hands on his. A week since he’d heard your voice. A week since he’d seen your smile.

A week since he’d burned you.

Called you inferior.

Threatened to kill you.

Well there was certainly a reason why he hadn’t gone to see you since the incident.

But...

He missed you.

He felt so guilty, knowing what he’d said and done to you, and he needed to see you.

Maybe he was just being selfish.

Maybe he knew he’d done something wrong.

Maybe he needed to call you.

He flipped his phone upside down, then right side up again on the counter of the bar.

Toga sat on a stool next to him, tapping her hands against the marble in boredom.

“So... what’s up with you?” She asked, cocking her head and glancing at him.

“Like I’m telling a brat like you.” He growled, flipping his phone over again.

“You’ve been off all week!” She exclaimed, leaning towards him. “Somethings happened to you.”

“If i tells you a little, will you shut up?”

“Mhm mhm!”

“Ughhhhh fine. I had a fight with someone close to me. I... I really hurt them. I know it. I haven’t spoken to them in a week.”

“So... Dabi has a soft spot?”

“That’s not the point of this. Also say that again and I’ll kill you.”

“Oookay then. You should just call them. Say something to them and apologize.” She offered with a shrug.

Dabi sighed, pressing his face into his hands.

“They don’t want to talk to me. Trust me on that.”

“Welp- that’s just my advice. Cent for my thoughts kind of thing except you didn’t pay me. You owe me a penny.”

Toga shrugged, hopping off the chair and leaving the room.

“Don’t owe you shit.” Dabi grumbled, glowering down at his phone again. He pulled up your contact, staring at the picture he’d set for you.

You had a bright smile, emoji hearts decorating your cheeks. It was from your first ‘date.’ When you’d hung out at your place after he broke in looking for shelter and food.

You’d taken care of him, let his spend the night, and even offered to let him stay whenever he needed to.

You were an Angel on earth.

And he’d burnt you.

Called you dirty.

And selfish.

You were anything but.

Ring

Ring

Ring

“Why the hell are you calling me?”

“I-“

“Dabi. Why are you calling me? You hate me, don’t you?”

“I don’t hate you...”

“Jeez, coulda fooled me.”

“Baby...”

“Don’t call me that.”

“I- I didn’t mean it.” He choked out. “Everything I said, I didn’t mean it. And I-“

“I really don’t care. The doctors said my arms would scar. I’m burnt and scarred like you. Are you happy? Is that what you wanted to achieve? Make me like you so that no one would want me? So that only you could have me?”

Yes

“No! I never wanted to hurt you, ba- Y/n please,”

“Please what? Please what, Dabi? What do you want from me? Huh? You want me to cradle you and say is all going to be okay? You want me to kiss your scars and tell you you’re beautiful? You want me to suck your dick and tell you I love you? After everything you’ve put me through?”

“I-“

“It’s not just you burning me. You’ve left me for days without contact, and then showed up like nothing’s happened! You’ve hit me and then groveled and cried for my mercy! You’ve made me do so much shit for you in bed that I never wanted to do! Our entire relationship, I was scared you’d get sick of me and kill me!”

“You really thought that?”

“Well guess what motherfucker? You can’t come after me! I’ve told the police what happened. Everything between us. They’re helping me move across the country. You’ll never see me again. Happy?”

“No. No no I’m not happy why would I be happy? You made me happy, when I didn’t even know what the word meant, you don’t have to go through with this, please don’t go through with this!”

“Don’t flatter me. I never made you happy. Nothing could make you happy except watching the world burn. I don’t make you happy, Dabi-“

“Yes you do!”

“Just shut up. I’m going to hang up. If I’m being honest... I’ll miss you. You made me happy. But with so much anger and fear surrounding you, it’s hard to even remember the last time we were happy together.”

“I’m... I’m sorry.”

“I know.”

Beep

Beep

Beep

You were gone.

Shouto Todoroki

If you thought Shouto was quiet before, you should see him now, wait, you were seeing him now, in class, eyes boring into your spine.

You still had a large bandage on your face, being hit in the face with plus added fire power is bound to leave a mark that lasts for over three days.

Did I mention it had been three days now?

It’s very hard to ignore Shouto, seeing as you were in the same class and lived in the same dorms. 

Plus everyone in class wanted to know what happened between the two of you, why Shouto seemed so down, why you had the bandage on your face, and if it was all connected.

You’d only told one person what had gone down between the two of you, and that was Bakugou.

Which maybe was a mistake, because he took to trying to fight Todoroki every time he saw him, and repeatedly told you that he ‘fuckin knew that icy-hot bastard was a good-for-nothing bag of of poorly packaged horse shit.’

You appreciated his comfort, but it hurt you every time he said something about Todoroki.

“I don’t get why you’re defending the scumbag. His hand hasn’t even healed off your face yet!” 

You and Bakugou were heading to the dorms after class, and he had gone on his usual tangent about how Todoroki did this, Todoroki did that, Todoroki was an asshole, etc etc.

“I mean... he’s technically still my boyfriend. And he’s been nothing but kind to me up until this point. He just... he was stressed, and I was being a bother. I’m sure the injury will fade at some point, then he’ll talk to me again and we can get back to normal.” you shrugged, rubbing at the back of your neck. “We’ll be fine.”

“You know what you are? A pushover.” Bakugou glared at you. 

“Wha- I am not! Where did you get that idea?” 

“Oh I don’t know, maybe from the fact that You forget to check in with how you feel and keep thinking only about that Half n Half bastard! ‘Oh, he must be so upset with himself!’ Fuck that! How do you feel?” 

You kept your eyes on the ground, speeding up. Bakugou grabbed your sleeve, tugging you backwards. His hands found your shoulders, thumbs rubbing soft circles. Your breath hitched, did Shouto ever do this for you? 

Not that you could remember.

“I feel... nervous.” you admitted. “I’m nervous that he meant what he said to me. That I’m nothing but a bother to him. I’m nervous that he’ll never come and talk to me, never apologize. I’m worried that if he does talk to me, he’ll think it was my fault. It wasn’t was it?”

You looked up at Bakugou warily, and squeaked when he tightened his grip on your shoulders.

“The fuck? Of course it’s not! Idiot.” he poked your forehead, and you couldn’t help but giggle a little. “Keep talking.”

“Um... I’m...” you took a deep breath. “I’m angry. I’m angry that he hasn’t talked to me. I’m angry about what he said. I’m angry that he even hit me to begin with. If we were training, of course it’d be different, but we weren’t training. And he hurt me. And now I’m doubting everything between us.”

Bakugou was silent, Cardinal eyes met yours. The tension was thick enough to cut with a knife, and for a moment, you feared Bakugou would try to blow your ass up for being a pathetic little weakling.

I mean... compared to people like Todoroki and Bakugou, you were right?

Bakugou took a step forward, pulling you into his arms. You held your breath, wondering if he was going to finally snap and kill you. 

But... it felt nice. 

You lifted your arms, wrapping them around his body and tugging him a little closer. You buried your face into his uniform shirt, body shaking a little as you cried.

You almost wanted to scream, but then the school would panic.

So you just cried, sobbing into his arms and letting him hold you. His embrace was war and comforting, nothing like you’d felt from your so-called boyfriend.

Maybe he was right, maybe you really shouldn’t try to think about him.

You did deserve better.

You sniffled, pulling off Bakugou with a soft smile.

“Thanks, Bakugou. I really needed that. And you’re right.”

“What was that second thing?”

“You’re right.”

“Hmmm?” Bakugou cupped a hand around his ear, feigning deafness.

“Oh my goodness- I said you’re right!”

“That’s it.” he patted you on the shoulder, proud smirk traced across his features. You chuckled. “Now you’re going to tell that to Mr. Daddy Issues and get the fuck over him.” 

“Alright, but you’re coming with me!” he nodded, keeping his hand on your shoulder as you returned to the dorms, heading to his dorm.

You paused just outside his door, knocking lightly. Bakugou was a few feet behind you, out of the way, but close enough to step in if something were to happen.

The door swung open slowly, revealing a bored-looking Todoroki. WHen his eyes landed on you, he jumped a little, taking a step back. His hand tightened around the doorknob, his other hand gripping his pants

“Y-Y/n-“ he stuttered, eyes flickering between you and Bakugou. “I-“

“We need to talk.”

“Listen I- I’m sorry!” He exclaimed.

“Todoroki, I don’t think you get it. ‘Sorry’ doesn’t cut it. You might have scarred me, so your one mistake might stay with me my whole life!”

“I know.” His head drooped, and his grip on his pants loosened. “I know. I’m- I’m just like him.”

“Him?”

“I promised I was nothing like him but here we fucking are!”

“Shoto what are you talking about?”

“I’m the worst kind of person!”

“No!”

Shouto looked up, eyes brimming with tears. You took a few steps forward, taking his face into your hands.

“I’m sorry.” You whispered “it was an accident, and you didn’t mean it. Please don’t talk about yourself like that.”

Bakugou grabbed you, yanking you away from him

“Uh, what the fuck? You came here to sever ties with him, not fucking comfort him!”

“Look at him, Bakugou. He needs me.”

“Y/n-“

“Trust me.” You smiled at Bakugou, pushing him away from you slowly before turning back to Shouto. You took the boy into your arms, rocking back and forth with him.

You ignored the heavy feeling in your chest, and the screams your brain slew ar you to get off of him, get away from him, and let Bakugou protect you.

You ignored logic, emotion, and all better judgement.

For this boy who’d hit you.

But Bakugou would end up being right, he was smart.

You’ll see.

Katsuki Bakugou/ Dynamight

Shit wrong Pomeranian

That’s better

Katsuki stood outside Recovery Girl’s room, waiting for Kirishima to come out and tell him what was going on.

He was chewing on his nails, foot tapping against the ground as he stared at the door. He could hear people moving around and talking inside.

He couldn’t get the sound of your screaming out of his head, the large dark patch that formed on your skin around your face, the way you just... fell.

The door slid open, and Bakugou stared forward and Kirishima stepped out, smiling and thanking Recovery Girl.

Bakugou was on his feet in an instant, grabbing Kirishima’s arm.

“How are they? Do they hate me? Can I see them?” He rambled, Kirishima gently pushing Bakugou off him.

“Uh, they’re fine for the most part, they haven’t said anything about you at all, and ask Recovery Girl.” He said, backing off down the hall as Bakugou stared helplessly after him.

“You uh- you might want to apologize. They are really upset.” Kirishima told him, quickly running off down the hall. Bakugou faced towards the room, stepping inside.

A cyan curtain blocked him from seeing you, and he heard shuffling behind it. It slid open, Recovery Girl stepping out. She looked up and saw Bakugou.

She wacked his leg with her needle/cane, and he yelped, stumbling backwards.

“You have no shame!” she snapped. “With what you did to them, you should be cowering outside right now!”

“Shhh!” Bakugou pressed up against the wall. “Do you want them to know I’m here?”

“Are you that clueless?” she grumbled, pulling herself up into her chair. “They’ve gone temporarily deaf.” Bakugou froze, glancing back at the curtain.

He’d blown up your eardrums.

He felt Recovery Girl press something into his hands, and he glanced down. 

It was a small whiteboard, with a pen and washcloth.

This was how he’d have to talk to you.

On a fucking whiteboard.

RG pulled the curtains aside, revealing you.

You were laying in the bed, half your face wrapped up in bandages, hands resting on your lap.

“Y/n...” he murmured. You remained still, staring out the window. Bakugou cleared his throat, and you still didn’t react.

“They can’t hear you, remember?” RG shook her head, waddling over to the other side of your bed, pointing at Bakugou. He watched your face slowly turn, before his eyes shot away from you, staring at the ground.

He heard you swallow, and you let out a soft whimper.

Were you scared of him?

Bakugou lifted the whiteboard, quickly scribbling some kanji on it 

ごめんなさい (Translation: I am sorry)

You reached forward, taking the whiteboard from him and erasing his words, putting your own down instead.

分かってる。(Translation: I know)

Bakugou pursed his lips, fidgeting with his shirt before he watched you put more writing down

どうして？(Translation: Why?)

Bakugou reached out, taking the whiteboard back, quickly putting down his excuse explanation

私は弱いと感じました。 じゃあ霧島を助けてくれたんだ。 うらやましくなってきた (Translation: I felt weak. Then you helped Kirishima. I got Jealous)

お許しください (Translation: Please forgive me.)

He handed you the whiteboard back, tapping his foot against the ground. You passed it back to him, and he hurridly read your response.

私はそれについて考えます (Translation: I’ll think about it.)

He had a chance. His eyes finally lifted off the whiteboard, landing on you.

The visible part of your face looked exactly the same, although there was a large bandage on your ear. Your eye looked sad, fearful, and nervous. You had a shaky smile on your face, trying to make him feel better.

You were always thinking about him.

それは再び起こらないだろう (Translation: It won’t happen again)

You sighed, smile falling.

本気？(Translation: Are you sure?)

Bakugou felt his heart drop into his stomach.

Well of fucking course you didn’t trust him, look what he’d done to you!

おっしゃる通りです。. もうお前を放っておいてやる さようなら、y/n。(Translation: You are right. I will leave you alone now. Goodbye, y/n.)

He stood up, leaving the whiteboard on your bed. He headed towards the door, with his hands stuffed into his pockets. He ignored the soft cry of your voice, surprised he was leaving.

He ignored the way you managed to choke out his name in a warbly, unsure voice.

He slid the door shut behind him, slumping against it and sliding down until he sat on the cold ground. He buried his face into his arms, finally allowing himself to cry.

He wasn’t going to try and talk to you, he resolved. He wasn’t going to bother you or scare you.

He’d keep you safe by refusing to talk to him.

He’d let the author end the fanfiction right then and there.

The door slid open behind him, and he flopped backwards, staring up at your face. You were holding the whiteboard.

オマンコにならないでください。 事故だったのは分かってる 頑張って俺を捕まえるのか諦めるのか? どんなヒーローがあきらめるだろうか？

(Translation: Don't be a pussy. I know it was an accident. Are you going to work hard and get me or give up? What kind of hero would just give up?)

A smirk slowly spread across his face. Yeah, he’d work hard. He’d never scare you or hurt you again. He’d do better.

He’d be the best boyfriend.

And he’d accept your help to stand up next to you.

=~=~=~=~=~=~=~=~=~=~=~=~=~=~=~=~=~=~=~=~=~=~=~=~=~=~=~=~=~=~=

After fic note: ohmygod I’m finally finished. This took fucking forever. You loved part one so much, I had to make sure part two was perfect.

Some of these ended in heartbreak

Another ended in a questionable descision

The last ended happily

All of them are different! 

I hope you get my references, and appreciate the Japanese Kanji I put in Bakugou’s part (if any of it is inaccurate, please let me know so I can try my best to fix it. I don’t speak or write Japanese, I used this translator to get what I needed). 

I worked hard on this, so if y’all could tell me what you like and dislike about this so I can improve my writing, that would be lovely. Don’t be afraid to pop a comment or pop into my ask box, I do my best to respond to every comment and ask, so don’t worry about being ignored.

I love all of you, and I’m so glad to be able to write for you.

Thanks for all of your support, I promise I’ll work hard on all of my drafts to make sure you get entertainment constantly! 

[rayshippouuchiha]

I read “[Naruto] made budgeting and math his bitch” and all I want to say, to ask, is to consider the possibility that he’s the one in charge of Team 7’s budget? Please and thank you for your time.

It takes Naruto a bit to notice it. Takes a while for all the pieces to line up just right for him to see it.

His team, as talented as they all are, are absolute shit with money.

They're up north, huddled together on the roadside just inside of Tomi, the capital city of the midsized island that makes up Gold Country, when the truth comes out.

Their mission had been long and draining and they're all looking forward to a ship back to the mainland and a stop at an Inn for a night before they start the trek back to Konoha.

The only problem with that plan is the fact that everyone is flat broke.

Everyone, that is, except for Naruto. Which the other three would know if they'd bothered to ask him instead of assuming he was just as broke as they are.

Because Naruto's wallet is basically still as fat as ever despite the length of time they've been gone and the fact that he's done his definition of splurging at the shops in Tomi. He'd put the few hours where they'd split up before meeting again to start looking for a ship back to very very good use.

Supplies were always cheaper for him outside of Konoha proper where the shopkeepers don't know him and he's actually allowed to haggle. Plus their contractor, an ancient silk merchant named Kaede, had taken enough of a liking to Naruto to put in a good word for him at the local shops.

A courtesy that she, apparently, hadn't offered to the rest of the team or maybe just one they hadn't bothered to take her up on. Naruto isn't sure which it is exactly.

But if it's the second option then Naruto's not sure what to think. He'd never turn a discount or chance to haggle down, no matter how small it is. He knows better.

"Well," Kakashi-sensei says brightly. "Looks like we'll be running to the mainland and camping until we're back home. Let that be a lesson to all of us to bring more money next time."

Sakura looks like she's on the verge of either tears or a tantrum and Sasuke looks as blank as always except for the slightly displeased curl of his mouth.

Naruto finds himself a mix of both of their reactions because what?

Bring more money? That was Kakashi-sensei's solution? Just bring more? Like what Naruto knows was in each of their wallets before they left Konoha wasn't a good six months of Naruto's regular budget?

And they've got relatively little to show for the fact that they spent it all?

How??

It's in that moment that the truth hits Naruto directly in the face.

He's the only poor person on this Team. He's the only one of them who has ever had to actually worry about money.

Sakura has parents who actually love and house her, all her mission earnings are pure profit. Kakashi-sensei is probably the shinobi version of rich with his rank and all the high-level missions he's taken. And Sasuke is absolutely the shinobi version of rich with the wealth of an entire Clan at his disposal.

When they run out of money they just ... go get more.

Naruto, with his crumbling apartment and trap-wire thin budget, lives an entirely different kind of life.

They can probably just walk right into the Konoha bank he's sure they all use, the same one Naruto's never been allowed into, and just withdraw more money.

Not Naruto. All of his money, whatever he's scrimped and saved for, has always either been on his person or hidden away in a hollowed space beneath his bed.

For a long moment, Naruto debates with himself. Considers not saying anything and just following along with Kakashi's plan.

But, well, he does have the money and they are his Team.

So ...

"I got this," Naruto huffs out as he holds up his still bulging wallet. "But we're doing it my way and you'd all better pay me back if I spend anything."

He doesn't bother to listen to their protests or whatever they might say or do. Instead he turns on his heel and stalks off towards the docks, intent on finding them a ride to the mainland that doesn't make him want to gouge his eyes out at the price.

Half an hour later finds them settled on the deck of a small fishing vessel, warm pork buns in hand, and Naruto not missing a single yen.

The hoard of shadow clones he has practically crawling over the ship ended up being payment enough for the weathered-looking woman who'd given them passage.

He ignores the way the others stare at him and focuses on eating his lunch, mind already ticking over what Inns he remembers them passing and what he could do to get them a night's stay for the lowest cost possible.

With him in the lead, they manage to make it all the way back to Fire Country without having to pay for much of anything at all. Naruto had bartered everything from his shadow clones to Kakashi-sensei kissing the back of some woman's hand to his own help modeling a kimono while waitressing in his female form at a restaurant in Blouder City for food and lodging.

He'd actually like that last job the most since Tsubame-san had not only let him keep the kimono but he'd made a small fortune in tips as well.

It's not until they stop at the Black River Inn, the last waypoint before they reach Konoha proper, that Naruto finally steps back. Much to the puzzlement of the rest of the team, he lets Kakashi-sensei step up and rent them a room instead.

Tatsuyomi, the man who runs the inn, is the brother-in-law of the woman who runs the Tree Bud in Konoha.

He knows Naruto on sight.

It's not until they're settled into their shared room that night, the others eating a hot meal from the kitchen and Naruto eating the last of meat buns the cook Akira had slipped him before Naruto left the restaurant in Boulder, that someone finally asks.

"How'd you get so good with money, Naruto?" Sakura is the one to break the ice. "Figured you'd blow it all on ramen or something by now."

"He didn't actually pay for much," Sasuke points out quietly. "And nothing full price. He traded and haggled for everything instead."

"Still," Sakura presses. "He's the only one of us who isn't broke and he managed to get us a stay in every Inn we came across on the way home. Kind of weird."

Naruto stops, stares down that the cold meat bun in his hand, eyes squinted almost closed and shoulders tight.

He forces himself to breathe, to let the tension flow off and away.

He takes a bite of his bun.

Chews.

"I've never had parents," Naruto finds himself saying.

Around him the room goes absolutely silent.

"Don't have a Clan or a guardian or anything either," Naruto's shoulders shift restlessly, nails biting into the soft flesh of the bun in his hand. "Been living off the orphan's stipend since I was four. The pay from that is ... there's never been a lot to go around. There's always bills and supplies so I had to learn to make what I had really count. Being hungry for a long time sucks you know? Never want to do that again, not after the first few times. Not unless I have to."

"Y-You get mission pay now though right?" Sakura says, voice low and eyes wide.

"Don't get the stipend anymore though, that stopped when I got my headband," Naruto shrugs again, uncomfortable in his skin for a reason he can't properly name. "And mission pay gets split so ..."

The quiet is thick around them. Sasuke is practically glaring at his bowl and Kakashi-sensei's knuckles are white around the edges of his book.

"But yeah," Naruto finally says as he pushes himself up onto his feet, half eaten bun in hand, and turns to hop up onto the windowsill, "I learned money stuff real young. Probably the only school thing I was ever really good at."

A flex of muscle has him out the window and sitting on the edge of the roof, feet dangling and conversation officially over.

The rest of the night and the journey back to Konoha proper is quiet.

The next time they go on an extended mission outside of the village it's Naruto who's in charge of any and everything even remotely money-related as soon as they pass the border.

And if their mission pay starts getting split three ways instead of four, well, Kakashi-sensei doesn't say anything so Naruto doesn't either.

[osakunt]

Hi!so i heard your request is open and may i request a hc where The haitanis(saperately)were in a arranged marriage and before meeting the bride they were like hating it and will make sure to run hell on their bride.BUTTT when they finally met they realise that its their crush who they are(madly)in love with.Make it Flufff

➟ ARRANGED MARRIAGE W/ HAITANIS [timeskip]

➟ Thank you for requesting, babes ! Pls enjoy <3

Ran

When he gets told that an arranged marriage is to happen. He was calm. But not calm enough

When asked to at least follow up and text the person he is to marry him, Ran automatically turns away acting like he didn’t hear shit.

The man cringed at the idea of even getting married with someone he didn’t know. So this is what he did

1. Made sure to text the person “just know I already dislike you”

2. Went out with random people and post on his social media because he knew you’d find out some way or another.

3. Trashed his place so the people who supervised him gave you a bad report about him. Sadly he got a little OCD and decided to clean up -

Plan A :backfired 🏃🏻‍♀️

Once it was time to finally meet each other, Ran thought it was a good idea to not get dressed formally. He wore a shirt that he specifically cut holes into and some shit colored pants and hair untamed.

“I hope (L/n) - san still goes along with this. They’ve been thinking of backing out. I understand that the peace between both gangs are on the line. And seeing how Ran has been acting, I doubt Bonten will even have a good clan to be their back bone when needed”

Hearing Kakucho talk to Kokonoi, Ran instantly stops and speed walks to the area the two were standing. “L/n ?? As in (L/n) (Y/n)… Kucho tell me it isn’t the the youngest of the (L/n) clan ….”

“It is….do you know them” Kakucho was lost as fuck but seeing the older man freak out he called in Rindou to help his brother out.

Once things were explained and cleared up, Kakucho sighs and sends the oldest Haitani to go fix up.

“Bet you were surprised it was me, Hmm ?” Ran sees your mouth moving but isn’t paying attention due to him taking in your appearance. The way you held yourself and greeted him even after the shit he had done to get you to rethink things.

“Y/n, I think this’ll work” Ran throws you a lazy smile. To think that he would throw a chance away with the person he was in the dumps for was completely stupid to him. Why would he want to throw away something that can bloom into something real. Something loving and something one and only.

“We can even get married now” he swings an arm around you, coming all up on you like Toji’s worm.

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

RINDOU

Let’s say his family wanted his bum ass to get married already so his parents said ‘fuck it, let’s arrange a marriage for him’

“The hell makes you think I’m going to go through with this ?” He yells looking at his superiors not carrying if they were his parents “ You’re 23 going onto 24. It’s time” his mother mocks him leaving the room to deal with other things. She didn’t care if he was throwing a fit.

Rindou being more snarky than Ran, he goes around making comments on how he’s fucked this big number of women and for all he knows could have children.

This is false. Yea he’s had his little sexcapades but wraps his willy cause like…fuck them kids

Anywhore ~ he found a way to get in contact with you even if the rules said that you guys couldn’t talk just yet until a certain day.

“Listen. I don’t know you and you don’t know me. If you were the one to suggest this false of a fake- fuck you. HONESTLY FUCK. YOU. who the hell do you think you are getting my family to agree to this shit” he hangs up without letting you even talk and you’re just there like ‘oh so this is how he wanna be ? Bet say less’

Seeing that Rindou isn’t going to at least try to make a good out of it, you decide to speed the meeting closer. As much as you didn’t want this, you wanted to at least meet with the big mouth who talked down to you.

The days comes and there he is. The click clack of your heels is heard on the shiny floor. Starting from you legs and traveling up to meet your stoic gaze and raised eyebrow - Rindou’s eyes widen at who was in front of him.

“Just came to say that you’re free to go. I only ever accepted cause I heard good things from your parents and cause I actually kinda liked you. Oh well it is what it is” you step to turn around but Rindou gets up from his seat in the café

“…..don’t go….I mean not yet- fuck” he can’t believe the fuck up he is going through right now.

Pushing back his hair from his face, he offers you to sit and you comply with the most professionalism you could give. “In my defense I didn’t know it was you. I wouldn’t mind having you as my wife ,ya know. To be fair I actually tolerate you.”

“I’ll accept this marriage simply because it’s you” his words caught you off guard because this bitch just cussed your ass out ?! SIR WTF !!

When Rindou got home after convincing you to continue the arrangements - he strides into his parents home to give them a hug. “Why didn’t y’all tell me it was Y/n. I thank y’all for understanding my wants” he kisses his moms cheek and hugs his father like never before

“Should I send her an apology with roses, or something…??”

[the-soliloquies-of-sadists]

#255

This is a direct follow up to #35.

“Glad to see you make it up here ok. I’m Robert, and you are?... Eddie. Good to meet you. Did you enjoy the drive? It really is nice. That’s part of the reason why I live up here. We don’t get many clients that come up here. Most order on line, but you are the first of the season. I reviewed your e-mail again and I think I have a selection of rimchairs for you. It would help me to narrow down your selections more if you answer some additional questions….

“Here, let’s go into the workshop. So, is this going to be a chair for you? Good. Are you the ass or the ass eater? Will you ever go underneath it?... No? Ok. Don’t worry, the only time I go under mine is to work on it.... Women, men, or both?... Women. Is this part of a S&M or kink situation?... That’s fine. It’s very rare for me to find someone willing to spend all this money for the sensual aspects of eating ass. Did you bring a slave woman with you? That’s fine. Most straight men don’t….

“No, I prefer fags under mine; is that going to be an issue here? I only ask because, I want to find the best rim chair for you, and I have a wealth of expertise I rely on. I don’t want to share my experiences with you and have it be awkward.

“Good! Good! Unless we need him, the faggot is up at the main house. That reminds me, will you be using the rim chair for full toilet activities? No… you would be surprised with just how many people are. Hell, every single dominatrix I have made a rim chair for is into it. And some of those women are fucking brutal to their slaves.

“So here let’s start with these three. The left two are designed primarily for rear entry and this third one is for the front. Me personally, I prefer my slave lying behind me when he’s attending to my shithole. His tongue seems to go in deeper and at a better angle. And I don’t have to spread my legs when he’s there. That’s one of the big difference between men and women is that women are narrower than men. It gets uncomfortable at times. For me it’s just easier with it behind me. Do you have a preference?... That’s fine. They will be designed for front and rear entries, but structurally it will be designed one way.

“It’s really all about comfort. Comfort was actually that reason that got me into making rimchairs. What I saw out there was horrible. They were rimseats. To me rimseats are different than what I make. Rimseats are essentially toilet seats on legs. The faggot lies underneath, and I would squat down. I’m a big guy and I can’t sit that low for a long time, before my legs start to cramp up, about fifteen to twenty minutes at most. The problem with making the legs longer is that the faggot underneath is then straining to keep his head buried in the crack of my ass. Either it is straining to keep its tongue buried deep, or its head can move all around. Either way, the faggot tires quickly and it’s a piss poor rimjob.

“That’s why I started with the idea of transforming regular chair designs into rimchairs. I have throne-like chairs, deck chairs, reclining chairs, dining chairs, and so on. Every one has support for the toilet lying underneath, so that multiple hour-long sessions are not a problem. I can customize it to a specific head size, as well as how far in you want the slave’s face when you sit down. Or, some of the chairs allow for adjustability. I personally like feeling my faggot’s face getting wedged in there, and then to have its mouth lined up to connect with my shithole. That is priceless. No other feeling of power compares with it. If you are into slaves that are reluctant, I can make the head spaces very restrictive. I can even create a box, measured exactly to your slave’s head where they can’t move an inch. My slave tells me that it gets very claustrophobic under it. I even designed is so that the slave places its head in the box and the hinged platform lowers with a piece going below the slave’s chin preventing the slave from pulling out from underneath until you get up off the chair and let it out.

“I see you like the casual desk chair. I have one just like it at my work desk. My faggot is under that one for hours. I can be doing work, surfing the internet, or jacking off to porn. I’m not even paying attention to the tongue fucking I’m getting. It’s just adding to the general euphoria of what I’m doing.

“You have a wife, girlfriend, bitch slave, or whatever?... Oh you have an out of state friend with benefits that likes to eat ass? From what I have learned through the years, it’s hard to find a woman into it. That’s fucking awesome.

“If you really love your butthole tongued for a long time, maybe you should get a fag, until you find the right bitch. Seriously. I had one client purchase a similar seat to that one, that he had installed in his playroom. It was up against a wall. He enclosed the sides of the chair. There was a hole in the wall that the ass eater would crawl through. It was an 18 year-old faggot from down the street, and that fag tongue fucked like no other I have ever tried out, and yeah I tried it out. The most interesting thing is that they had a set time each week when they did this. The kid came in through a dedicated entrance, and the client sat down, neither of them said a word to the other. Truly amazing.

“Go on, have a seat. I’ll have it customed to your ass and thighs so that when you are sitting, your cheeks are comfortably spread. You know, those Carhartt pants are restricting your ass and legs. You’re not getting the proper placement of your ass.

“Why don’t you take them off? Other than me and shithead up in the house, no one is going to see you. I get maybe, maybe one customer a week. When we go into the design room to take measurements, I will need you to have them off. Leaving your underwear on is better than this. Briefs, no briefs. We don’t care…. Commando? We don’t care about that either.

“Look, if you think this is my way of seducing you, let me say that I like faggot boys, not real men like yourself. I get turned on when I know a man—a real hard working man—is getting his dick, ass, and everything else taken care of at the expense of faggots. I’m not talking about gay boys. I mean faggots, boys who exist to serve a real man, to take care of that man’s needs including draining his balls, eating his ass, and so on. To a faggot, draining your cock and eating your shithole is the reason for its existence, even at the expense of its own needs. So no, I wouldn’t dream of sticking my cock in you. You can count on that.

“Don’t worry about my faggot; its tiny pecker is permanently locked away. It has been that way ever since he got here last fall. You remember that first snowstorm we had? Well right before the snowfall hit its car ran out of gas, and it got stuck. At least that was its story. I made it an offer, find someone else to help in the snowstorm, or submit to me. I’ve kept it naked, with its pecker painfully locked up in that device ever since. I’ve trained it to service my shithole for hours on end. It hasn’t cum in the five months it’s been serving me.

“Let me text it to come down here…. No, it’s no problem. Go ahead and get comfortable. Take the pants off, leave them on the table. It’s best to put your work boots back on.

“That’s a beautiful cock you have. I bet the women love it. Stop the modesty thing. You are a fucking hot man, you should relish in the adoration. Have a seat. Doesn’t that feel good on your ass? You can feel the spread, but it doesn’t feel like you are falling in? Now imagine a moist tongue darting in and out of your crack.

“And speaking of a moist tongue, here’s the fag…. Faggot! This is Sir Eddie. Get under the seat and get to work….

“No more protesting. I don’t care how dirty it is. I saw your skid marks in your pants, the fag will clean you up. He lives for shit like this. Its tongue feels good in there, doesn’t it? Don’t answer, I can see it on your face. Just relax.

“I will be over there in the design shop if you need me. Try out any of the other chairs. The faggot will do whatever you want or need to feel good. You can stay as long as you like. Even over night or throughout the rest of the weekend. The fag will take care of everything for you. It’ll eat your farts, drink your piss, throat your shaft, take a beating, or whatever. Just tell it what you want, and it will comply. By the end you will understand why a faggot is better than a bitch. Make me a good enough offer, and I may throw the faggot in.”

[hotwings0203]

I feel like Dabi would be the type of dude who would bully you incessantly at the LOV and for the life of you you can’t figure out why. He’s always around you and making snarky comments or pulling your hair, trying to catch you messing up on missions. You’re sure he hates you, and you do well to stay out of his way, or sometimes when you feel bold you’ll offer a quip of your own. The bullying increases whenever you talk to other guys at the bar, especially when you make Tomura crack a smile, Dabi’s breathing down your neck the second your leader leaves, calling you terrible names and pushing past your boundaries.

Cw: language, nsfw, noncon, manga spoilers, some angst?

In a perfect world, Touya would not have been abandoned and rejected by his family. In a perfect world, Dabi would not exist, and Touya would be eating dinner with his family right now as he shows his little brother how to properly wield fire to its fullest extent.

But there was no such thing as a perfect world, and therefore Dabi did exist. And Dabi doesn’t care for anyone, or anything.

Or so he tells himself.

“Slut”

“Nothing but eye candy, and shitty eye candy at that”

It’s nothing you haven’t heard before, but it doesn’t make it any easier to ignore him

“What was that all about, huh? The fuck are you and crusty snickering about?”

Fed up with his continuous antics, you decide to mouth off a little too.

“Oh nothing, just talking about how adorable you and Hawks would make as a couple. And wipe that sneer off your face, it looks like some of your staples fell out of your mouth.”

It’s nothing too snarky, but in a second he’s shoving you in some dark room, forearm pinned against your throat as his hand is lit up with blue flames merely inches away from you, snarling in your face.

“You wanna be funny, bitch? I got jokes of my own too, why dont I show you what happens to dumb little girls who don’t know their fucking place? I think that would be real funny.”

But his hand is stopped from drawing near your wide eyes when you both hear Twice and Toga calling everyone for their next meeting.

He pushes you away from him, giving you a murderous look over his shoulder as he leaves the room, not paying mind to the way you slide down the wall in the dark.

You take extra precaution to try avoiding him for the next few days, not even making eye contact with him when you two get teamed up for tasks. He never mentions the room incident, if anything he acts as if it never happens. It’s like whiplash for you, he tries to weirdly talk to you more but all you offer him is mumbles and hums of agreement.

The conversation is never long, but it starts to be less talk of degrading you and more of begrudging questioning of what you’ve been up to. You never engage, opting to pretend like you never heard him, and strangely enough he leaves it be.

You give him a side eye one day as he joins you at the bar (much to your discontent), downing your glass just to fill another.

He says nothing as he slides into the stool right next to you, and pours a glass of whiskey for himself as well.

It’s awkwardly silent, you’re not sure if you should leave or not, but you’d be damned if you try to initiate small talk with this psycho.

But then, he speaks.

“Is Shigaraki sending you on the mission to get that UA kid?”

His gravely voice rumbles and cracks from his usual lack of use, and he clears his throat after he talks.

“No.”

“Oh.”

This is excruciating, you think to yourself as he mulls over the drink in his hand for a silent minute or two.

Toga calls you over thankfully at the exact same moment, and you breathe out an inaudible sigh of relief as you slip off the stool to join her.

“Wait-“ Dabi grabs your arm and you flinch out of instinct, expecting a slap or a burn to come from him.

He sees your reaction and shakes his head dismissively, letting you go and muttering a “Nevermind”. You don’t ponder over it as you trip over your own feet to join the eccentric blond.

A week passes, and then two. With each day you maneuver your way around him, request to be partnered up with different people in private, and busy yourself in random tasks. Every time you pass him by the bar he lifts his head from whatever he’s doing and tries to maintain eye contact with you, even going so far as to open his mouth to say or ask god-knows-what.

You try to ignore the foreign hopeful glint in his glacial eyes as you walk right past him, ducking your head as you do so.

It drives Dabi crazy.

He can’t handle any more rejection, he thought his family would be the last straw for him to ever want recognition or love validation from again. He wants to talk to you, to hear your voice as it snaps back with witty comebacks of your own that he secretly enjoys so much, even if it means he has to force it out of you with hateful words. He wants to feel your hair underneath his scarred hands, even if he has to mask the soft wanting of you in forms of yanking the strands. He wants nothing more than to see your eyes fill up with no other sight than him and think only of him, even if it means he has to corner you and scare you into submission.

But your silence is something he’s not used to.

Well, to be fair, you weren’t silent completely, but the only sentences he was hearing from you nowadays was when you were speaking to Shigaraki or the other League members.

You were the only idiot who didn’t notice the smoke curling from his nostrils and ears comically when he’d finally see you stop your stoic act just to open up to other men apart from him. Spinner, Twice, and Compress backed off almost immediately from talking to you for too long when they’d see the look on his face as he watched you surrounded by them, but Tomura would merely smirk from behind your shoulders and keep a level gaze with his subordinate, knowing fully well why he was so pissed off.

You began to notice the weird energy at the base soon after the rest of the men would keep curt conversations with you in comparison to your long talks about video games, sex, and life after you would all win the war.

So you thought it would be best to ask the most semi-normal person there that wasn’t fueled with testosterone and aggression.

“I just don’t get it, why are they all being weird? I mean, we all used to talk so much and now they just...try avoiding me. Except for Tomura of course, he’s still normal I guess. But he always has this smirk on his face when I’m with him and I can’t figure out why.”

Toga stops cleaning her blood-laced needle to give you a sly look, all fangs and glinting white.

“And Dabi?”

“What about him?”

She sits back on her haunches and cocks her head at you. “You really don’t know what’s happening here, do ya?”

“No,” you roll your eyes in exasperation. “But I’ll gladly take any theories here, since apparently I’m the only one who doesn’t get it.”

“He likes you.”

You gape at her for a moment and then burst out laughing.

“What? That’s crazy, he doesn’t like me, he hates me!” He can barely stand being in a room with me, all he does is talk shit and harass me.”

The blond curiously licks at a bead of red from the top of the weapon and you cringe when her own tongue rips from the sharp point.

“You say he can’t stand being in a room with you, so then why is it that he’s always there? He might talk shit, but he talks to you out of everyone else right? Regardless of if it’s something mean.”

You’re thoroughly flabbergasted. She had a point, but it was too much to wrap your head around. She cheerfully hums and gets up to flounce around the room, cleaning her already-tidy room up to a T.

“And that little silent treatment act you’re giving him isn’t helping either. I swear, Jin told me Dabi almost burned his mouth off that one day you, him and Spinner were talking about GTA. He totally cornered the poor guy and threatened his life if he didn’t stop talking to you.”

“You’re joking.”

“Am not. He wanted to do the same to Tomura but I figure he wants to keep his job, so he won’t. Doesnt make it any better for him when you’re all chummy with the one person Dabi can’t stand the most, though.”

No wonder your leader was so smug whenever you two were in the same room, your attention solely focused on him.

You run your hands down your face, moaning about the whole situation being fucked. It’s just your luck that you couldn’t take a clue, but to be fair, how could you? Being called worthless and a waste of space wasn’t exactly what you had in mind for flirty banter.

“Soooo what’re you gonna do now? I heard he’s gonna try talking to you for realsies like, tomorrow or something.”

“Tomorrow?” You yelp, jumping up to your feet. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner? I can’t face him!”

“Oops,” she giggles, twirling with outstretched arms around her room and falling down onto her bed.

“Oh god, I can’t do this. I don’t even know if I like him! He’s such an ass, and even when he tries to come off as normal he’s just so..unsettling. I don’t think I’ve ever had a good conversation with him.”

Toga props her elbow up to rest her chin on her hand, frowning in thought.

“Why not just tell him how you feel?”

You snort and fold your arms. “Yeah, because the psycho arsonist is really gonna take the word no well.”

“Hmm.. I see what you mean. Oh well, whatever you choose, I’ll support you!”

And with that she skips out of the room sing songing for Twice to make a clone for her.

You were fucked.

And sure enough, the next day he approaches you, hands stuffed in his pockets and an almost bored look on his face.

“Yo newbie, I gotta talk to you for a second. Come with me”.

You look blearily up at him through eye bags and mussed hair, a direct telling of your sleepless night. Your stomach drops when you hear his words, but you nod your head and take a deep breath, mentally preparing yourself of the speech you practiced till the sun rose.

No one else is bothering you both today, Shigaraki having gone to visit All For One and the rest of the League left to their own devices. It was something you weren’t so comfortable with, but you doubted a hero would come to save you.

He leads you through the short winding hallways, each step of his growing louder and heavier as the space started growing smaller. Finally, he reaches a dimly lit room and stops outside the door, gesturing for you to go in with a casual wave of his patched wrist.

“After you.”

You raise an unsure eyebrow at his uncharacteristic show of consideration, and do as he says. You’re sweating bullets, fists balled so that your nails are digging into your palms, and vision going in and out of focus as your eyes begin to adjust to your surroundings.

A loud bang pulls you out of your stupor, and you whip around at the sound.

Dabi is already staring back at you with lidded eyes, leaning his weight against the door, his arms crossing over each other.

You shift on both feet, picking at your nails nervously.

“So, what did you wanna talk about?”

He says nothing, but just observes you, his head slightly tilted as if you were some abstract art piece.

“Dabi.”

“You got a lot of nerve, y’know that?”

He pushes himself off the wall and advances slowly towards you, hands stuffed in his trench coat pockets.

You immediately back up with raised palms, sputtering indignantly at his offensive movements coming closer and closer. However you thought his ‘confession’ would go, this was most definitely not starting out like how you planned

“Excuse me? What’re you talking about-“

“I know what you’re doing. You think whoring yourself out to ol’ crusty and the rest of the guys here is gonna make everyone forget just how useless you actually are. What the fuck do you even do here? You fuck up half the missions which I have to come bail your ass out of, you constantly put us in jeopardy by being all friendly with everyone, and you can’t even keep your mouth shut when I need to let off a little steam, as I rightfully should.”

In a perfect world, Dabi would be the light of your eyes, the hero of your world. In a perfect world, Dabi would be able to hold your hand in his smooth one and tell you that he wants you so much that it impairs his rational judgement and makes him say things he doesn’t mean. He’d tell you that your presence is like a weight lifted off his chest, your presence means he doesn’t have to think or worry about the outside world, he just wants you all to himself without anyone interfering.

But this is not a perfect world, and Dabi is not a hero, but rather one of the worst villains.

So he does exactly what one does as a villain.

Instead of a loving look that he knows he’s incapable of, Dabi looks down into your horrified gaze as he traps you against the wall between his scarred arms, spewing misplaced venom at you.

“I don’t know what your problem is, but you need to chill out. First you go ballistic on me ‘cause I talked to Tomura for no reason, then you act all weird and quiet as if you’re some decent person, and now you think you can just bring me in here and tell me how worthless I am? Go fuck yourself, seriously.”

You scoff and make your way to push him but stop when he does what he did a couple weeks ago. You hold bated breath as he casually brings an inflamed hand to scratch at his face as if he can’t feel the hellfire emitting from it, and let out a whine of distress as he lowers his head mere inches from yours, lips almost touching.

“Stop talking to the rest of the guys,” he breaths. “Stop smiling, laughing, or going near anyone who isn’t me.”

You wonder if he knows how insane he sounds. He does, but that’s nothing he doesn’t know already. If anything, it solidifies in his mind that if he is to be as bad as the world has made him out to be, then he is acting exactly fit for the role.

“Why?”

“I don’t need to give sluts like you a reason. It should come as easy, right? What’s putting out for one more person?”

Your eyes are brimming with tears now, your stoic facade showing cracks as you sniffle a little bit.

He eats it up and groans watching salty rivers cascade down your cheeks. Suddenly, he feels as though he can no longer hold back anymore, he feels as though if he thinks for one more second he’ll combust.

So, acting on instinct, he surges forward and presses his lips against yours, swallowing your cries of distress and holding your hands above your head in midst of them frantically beating on his chest.

Your lips are so, so soft compared to his and it’s making him sink deeper into this instinctual daze. He puffs against your writhing lips as he thrusts his hot tongue in your mouth.

You try to bite him but when his hands heat up against your skin you resign to your fate and wail, allowing him to pull his hips flush against yours and start humping your thighs.

He draws back and bites your lips, teeth clacking against yours as he does so. You open your terrified eyes and blanch when you see the look on his face.

Lust is clearly drawn everywhere, from his blown pupils to his heaving chest, all the way to his flushed face and wild eyes. He looks as though he’s about to eat you alive and it’s appropriate that you feel like a lamb about to be slaughtered.

“Dabi, wait, please stop-“

But he cuts your pants off again in favor of slamming his hips against yours again and grinding impossibly hard on your legs, the friction of his jeans catching on your clothed cunt and forcing a mewl out of you.

“I’m not gonna stop. I’ve had enough of you teasing. You’re mine now, and if it takes burning our dear leader alive and this whole place down for you to understand that then I’ll fucking do it.”

He thought that terrorizing you would ease the empty feeling in his heart, that continuously berating you would force him to see you as what he always said you were, just another empty headed cunt. He thought that distancing himself from you and focusing on other things would make him forget about the soft feelings he longed to share with you, feelings he thought perished in the fire he was in when he was a young boy .

Even now, there is an ache in his chest as he hears you beg for him to stop, to let you go, that you’re sorry for whatever you did.

But this is not a perfect world, and not everyone gets their way in life.

You should really learn that, because Dabi already has.

And so Dabi will act accordingly to what life has put out before him .

[littlemisspascal]

The Infinity Cube Part 3

Main Pairing: Marcus Pike x Female Reader

Chapter Pairing: Javier Peña x Female Reader

Word Count: 1400+ 

Series Summary:  When you play with a strange cube, you’re transported out of your current reality with your boyfriend Marcus into brand new ones starring alternate versions of your boyfriend who look and act entirely different every time. With each encounter, you start to wonder if you’ll ever make it back to your real universe?

Warnings for the chapter: No beta all mistakes mine, Language, Fluff, Angst, My first time writing Javier so I’m super nervous sharing, Spanish is italicized, churros cuz that came up when searching Colombian desserts, Let’s pretend Narcos + Pablo Escobar don’t exist in Marcus universe so there’s no crossover, the quote--the kind of tired sleep can’t fix--is one I love and have seen a dozen variants of but sadly is not mine

Author Note: Thank you everybody for your kind support of this fic! I appreciate every like, comment, and reblog 💝 This chapter is a bit longer than previous ones, so maybe future ones will be too. Idk, my anxiety is a fickle monster so we’ll all just have to wait and see. 

Shout out + 1000 brownie points to @ohlawdthebirds for correctly guessing Javi as the next character 😊🌸💖

PART 1 / PART 2 / PART 4

Fingers snap in front of your face, startling you.

“You’ve been playing with that fucking paperweight all day,” a blond-haired man complains, leaning back in his chair and out of your personal space. His voice is deep and gravelly, as if the words have had to climb out from somewhere deep within himself, and there’s a hint of a southern twang. “Give it a rest already, Oddball.”

You flip him the bird instinctively, eliciting a smirk and an eye roll from him, muttering something under his breath about “you and Javi being too damn similar.” 

The nameplate on his desk says Steve Murphy. You silently observe his faded dark brown leather jacket and slicked back hair, unsure what to think of him beyond the fact he's clearly your coworker (seriously, could his desk be any closer to yours? Did he have separation anxiety?) and that he’s got an outdated sense of fashion.

Actually, now that you’re paying attention, both desks are covered in paperwork with documents and photos spread out messily, and there is a stack of manila folders haphazardly balancing on the shared corner, one accidental jostle away from spilling onto the floor. You notice a third desk to the left of you, remarkably organized in comparison, with a typewriter resting in the middle and an ashtray full of cigarettes sitting next to it.  

Oh, Javi, you think, torn between disappointment and worry, you said you’d quit before the wedding.

You freeze, nearly choking on your spit. 

Then slowly, ever so slowly, you hold up your left hand and find a platinum diamond ring innocently resting on your fourth finger. The band is simple, no intricate designs or words carved into it, and the diamond is square-shaped, aged yet elegant. 

Your eyes prickle with tears. It’s perfect.

Six months of dating Marcus and marriage had only come up once when Marcus opened up to you about being divorced. He’d caught his ex-wife cheating on him and you had never wanted to hunt someone down and slap them more than you had in that moment, but you’d stayed at your apartment and cuddled with Marcus instead, exchanging happier memories to even out the lingering tension in the air. If that bitch ever crosses your path though...Somebody better hold your purse ‘cause fists will fly.

The shrill ringing of a nearby phone yanks you out of your head, realizing you’ve been staring stupidly at your hand for the last minute. Embarrassment sticks to your skin, clothes suddenly feeling too tight, and you belatedly notice your outfit.

Two words: shoulder pads. 

What...the...fuck?

You whirl around, almost tipping your chair over in your haste, and sweep your gaze across the room. Nearly everyone you see is dressed in military uniform—which makes sense when you spy a green logo on a door with the words Policía Nacional de Colombia neatly printed on it— but your sharp eyes zero in on a pair of women dressed in similar clothes as you—blazers, pencil skirts, and those stupid fucking shoulder pads. 

You’ve traveled to the past. The 1980s, if you were to hazard a guess. 

An even more specific guess: 1980s Colombia.

It’s not as weird as being on a spaceship, but your leg starts to bounce restlessly with the urge to pace nevertheless. You turn forwards in your seat again, biting your lip as you consider the cube in your lap. 

A paperweight, Steve had called it. Idiot. There is something special about this cube—and not just because of its weird symbols or that it has the power to drop you in alternate universes.  No, it’s almost like it’s teasing you. Playing a weird game with rules you don’t stand a chance of figuring out or understanding.

Like chess, you think, remembering Marcus’ habit of playing it on his phone at night when he’s waiting for you to join him in bed, a pair of thick-rimmed glasses perched on the edge of his nose. 

The thud of a paper sack landing on your desk startles your heart into overdrive for a second time. You open your mouth to scold him, only for the sugary sweet scent of churros to hit your nose, immediately making your mouth water instead. Your fingers can’t tear the bag open fast enough, eager to pull out your favorite treat.

“Cálmate, rareza,” a masculine voice says, an alluring raspy quality to it, right before a featherlight kiss is pressed against your cheek. “The churros aren’t going to grow legs and run away.”

Javier pulls his chair closer, teasingly tapping his shoe against yours. You stare at him, frozen with your heart stuck in your throat. He looks just like Marcus—dark hair, sharp cheekbones, that little wrinkle between his eyebrows when his mind is shifting gears into business mode, even the leather jacket he wears is eerily similar to your boyfriend’s—but, like Din, Javi also has his own distinctions. His fluency in Spanish, for starters, but deeper than that, you see the bags beneath his brown eyes, the way he can’t sit still, as if there’s adrenaline pumping through his veins with no proper outlet. He’s tired, you think, but it’s the kind of tired sleep can’t fix.

God, you hope you catch Escobar soon. It’s breaking your heart, seeing what this hunt is doing to the man you love.

“Where’s my snack?” Steve asks, half-joking half-indignant.

“In the vending machine down the hall,” Javier retorts without missing a beat. “Big black box with a glass front. Can’t miss it.”

Steve grumbles, but pushes his chair back and leaves after digging a handful of coins out of his desk drawer. 

You give Javier a reproachful look. “You really should be nicer to Murph. He’s the only partner you’ve got.”

“Only?” Javier echoes, gently tapping the ring on your finger. “You sick of wearing my mamá’s ring already? It’s barely been a week.”

“You know what I mean, Brown Eyes.” You take a bite out of your churro. The crunch as your teeth sink into its crispy, cinnamon exterior usually lifts your spirits, but right now you barely taste anything, head swirling with dark clouds of worrisome thoughts. You swallow, seriousness seeping into your voice as you continue, “Out there on the streets, you’re responsible for watching each other’s backs. I don’t want you not coming home to me because you pushed too many of Murph’s buttons.”

Javier’s quiet for a moment, and somehow it’s louder to your ears than the rest of the hustle and bustle going on around you. You finish the rest of your churro, thinking he’s just going to sit there ruminating on your words for the rest of the afternoon, when he suddenly says, “Do you know why I call you rareza?”

You shrug, brushing crumbs off of your lap. “‘Cause I’m odd. I like collecting marbles and I listen to music twice as old as me and memorize soap opera plots and—”

“And you’re the best damn miracle that ever happened to me.”

You squeeze the cube so hard your knuckles ache from the strain.

Javier’s leaning in closer now, his raspy voice becoming lower, softer, a dulcet tone usually reserved for the sanctity of your bedroom. You’re enraptured by the burning intensity of his gaze, helplessly drawn in like a moth to a flame.

“You’re one of a kind, sweetheart. Una rareza.” The corner of his mouth curls into a fond smile, the one reserved for you and you alone. “And I’m going to spend the rest of my life reminding you ‘til we’re old and gray. You don’t ever need to worry I’m not coming home.”

You swallow the lump of emotion swelling in your throat, managing a wobbly smile as you reply, “And Murph has the audacity to say I’m the sappy one.”

Javier rolls his eyes but his grin widens, a lone, precious dimple appearing in his cheek. A sight you’ve witnessed on Marcus’ face hundreds of times. Your smile drops, feeling like you’ve been kicked in the ribcage. 

Oh God, Marcus. You’ve got to make it back to him. 

You look at Javier who has started pecking away at his typewriter, lost in his own little world. He always complains about it, but you know he secretly finds the task calming, giving his mind a rest from the bigger, scarier problems going on right outside the front doors.

He’s beautiful. But he’s not yours.

Marcus is your true reality. Your home.

Last time you twisted the right side of the cube. This time you choose the left.

And if there are tears running down your cheeks, well. The world’s spinning too fast for anybody to see.

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[fernweh-writes]

Hey... ehhh... me again...👀

Like, I just got a real bad sunburn because I was with my BFF in her pool for like 5h without sunprotection, and the sunburn I got because Of it is like for real straight up Painfull as shit so I thought how would the slasher react to their S/O getting a really bad sunburn and how would they help her??

So yeah sorry if I should annoy you with my requests👉👈

This is a very cute idea but also please wear sunscreen. Those UV rays are no joke bestie. If you got a green thumb, or even don’t, aloe plants are also great investments. Please stay safe luv!

-Fern

Slashers x S/O With A Sunburn

Michael Myers

Michael doesn’t get sun burnt all that often. He keeps all of his skin covered when he is outside and the rest of his time is spent indoors. Although he does remember getting sunburns when he was younger and remembers that they were not fun. So he does his best to help, but doesn’t really know how.

It’s Michael and of course he’s always curious, especially about pain. Sorry y/n, he is going to poke your sunburn to see how you’ll react.

However, he does bring you a lot of water to make sure you stay hydrated. He may not know how to treat a sunburn but he does know being in the sun that long can cause dehydration.

Michael would also be amused by how red you get if you’re pale. He is also grossed out by your skin peeling when you start to heal. You look like a shedding reptile and he is not a fan.

Bo Sinclair

Literally will not shut up about how you should know to wear sunscreen or avoid being in the sun for that long. Simultaneously calls sunscreen “bitch spray” though.

Bo is more than willing to help you rub aloe on the places you can’t reach though. We all know he’s perverted and loves to make dirty jokes so it’s perfect for him. “You know, you didn’t need an excuse for me to touch ya darlin’, you coulda just asked.”

Picks at you when the cold gel makes you hiss and flinch away. Bo would also be the one who wouldn’t use enough aloe so him touching your skin feels like hell.

Would 100% try to sneak his hands from your back further down to your ass. If he’s gonna spend time helping you he expects to be paid with a handful of ass.

Vincent Sinclair

Honestly, Vincent has probably forgotten what a sunburn feels like. He rarely ever leaves the house, or even the basement, so he hasn’t been outside long enough to get burnt.

Pities you and how miserable you look squirming around trying to keep your clothes from touching you. Would let you take the sheet off of the bed and just wrap it around you.

He’s the closest thing Ambrose has to a doctor and is the most capable of helping you. Makes sure to keep aloe on your skin and constantly reminds you to drink water.

Don’t get me wrong, Vincent really does pity you but when you hop in the shower and holler he can’t help but laugh to himself. You knew better than to just hop right in like that.

Thomas Hewitt

Wouldn’t be much help with the healing part but he does take over your chores so that you can rest and heal. A sunburn that bad definitely brings some exhaustion along with it.

Luda Mae knows plenty of home remedies and is very familiar with all sorts of ailments the Texas heat inflicts. She’ll have you feeling better in no time.

Hoyt would definitely try and smack your sunburn. Death glares from Tommy and threats from Luda Mae are the only things saving you. He knows Thomas would kill him so he does his best to not.

Thomas would feel bad that he can’t help you out much. Would also be embarrassed to find you wearing little to no clothing since clothes are very uncomfortable. He would freak out and be very flustered.

Brahms Heelshire

Watches you suffer.

If you had followed the rules and not left the house y/n, this wouldn’t have happened in the first place now would it? But no, you just had to neglect the rules AND the meticulous schedule he had so carefully crafted. How rude.

After watching you for a little bit though Brahms begins to feel bad for you. You look so sad and miserable trying so hard to get comfortable and failing. He watches you try and fail to sleep much that night and lets you rest for a little bit but that’s the most you’re going to get from him.

He definitely isn’t going to complain if you decide to not wear clothes around your room. It’s a better view for him to watch through the walls and he is definitely going to enjoy the show. And you sleep on top of the covers? Maybe he should let you get sunburnt more often.

Billy Loomis

You want him to rub aloe on your back? Oh no worries, he’ll do your whole body for you. No really y/n, he insists, please let him rub his hands all over you.

He really does feel bad for you, he just does a bad job of showing it. Billy won’t do much unless you specifically ask him to. But he does make sure you stay hydrated after being out in the sun.

He will turn the shower on for you and make sure that the water is anything but hot. Also makes sure the water pressure isn’t turned up so the water cannot attack your burned skin.

Refers to your peeling as shedding and is very grossed out by it. Don’t shed on his furniture, or his clothes, or his anything. Keep your skin to yourself please.

Stu Macher

Goes out and buys any and every aloe product he can find. He doesn’t want to see you in pain.

That being said he does seem to enjoy poking your sunburn. If you ask, he couldn’t tell you why. Maybe he just enjoys seeing you in mild pain, who knows.

Is more than okay with rubbing aloe on your back but he puts on way to much no it’s going to take forever to dry. His genius idea is for you to sit in front of a fan but then you just freeze. RIP y/n, you can’t win.

Stays by your side and fetches anything you need so that you don’t have to move after you finally found a way to sit or lay that is comfortable and doesn’t hurt.

Jesse Cromeans

He wouldn’t let you get burnt in the first place. Jesse watches you any time you’re outside and constantly reminds you to put on sunscreen. If he can’t be with you, you’ll receive constant reminders to reapply sunscreen when it’s time.

Also invests in really good sunscreen that won’t come off in the water. That way, you can swim in peace and not worry about getting burnt while in the water.

If you do happen to get burnt, don’t worry he buys top of the line aloe products and helps you apply it all over. You also won’t have to worry about the sheets rubbing and scratching you since he once again buys only the best of the best.

Makes sure you drink plenty of water as well. He can’t have you getting dehydrated and passing out on him. Not like he wouldn’t pay for one of those IV bags even if you did.

Asa Emory

It would take you getting burnt once for him to become over protective. He’ll constantly remind you to wear sunscreen but overall just tries to keep you out of the sun.

Don’t make him have to lock you in that hotel so that you can’t get sunburnt. Asa won’t hesitate to do so if he feels that it is necessary. After all, he has to keep his most prized piece of his collection in good condition.

This man is a sadist. He enjoys using your sunburn to inflict more pain upon you. Don’t think he won’t degrade you for “not knowing how to take care of yourself.”

Honestly it just furthers his belief that you need him to protect you and keep you safe. You’re pathetic, you can’t even stop yourself from getting sunburnt. What would you ever do without him to keep you safe?

[shemarmooresfedora]

Sugary Sweet Apologies

Summary: You and Reid never really got along but when he saves your life, you decide to be the bigger person and thank him and hopefully start over. Unfortunately, it isn’t that easy.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Content/Warnings: light to mild angst with fluffy ending, swearing, spencer reid being an annoying bitch, brief mentions of case stuff (if you watch cm, you should be fine)

A/N: this is for @willowrose99 ‘s 1 year anniversary on tumblr writing challenge!! congrats! i literally wrote and edited this whole thing in less than one day because i got so excited, anyways i hope you enjoy!

Word Count: 1.8k

“Reid and Y/L/N, go to David Whitney’s house. He was the therapist of two of the three victims. He could have some insight into the victimology and know of any overlap between them. He has no criminal record of past aggressive behavior but we can’t rule him out as a suspect entirely,” Hotch stated.

“Hotch, you stuck me with her yesterday for the geographical profiling. Send Prentiss with her instead,” Spencer whined.

“I don’t mind going with Y/L/N. She is a great partner in the field,” Emily glared at Spencer.

“No. Reid, go with Y/L/N or be taken off this case. I’m a unit chief, not an elementary school teacher. I don’t have time for temper tantrums,” Hotch chided.

“Fine,” Spencer grumbled as you grabbed the keys to an SUV.

You don’t know what it was but ever since you started at the BAU four months ago, Spencer had never liked you which resulted in you disliking him as well. Everyone else on the team was super friendly and welcoming but Reid always was jabbing snarky remarks your way like “I don’t have time to explain it to you” or “This was in the FBI handbook. God, you need more training.”

Luckily, the others were quick to defend you. Once Garcia even heard him snip at you over the phone and as soon as you all got off the elevator after the case, Reid was being dragged by his ear into Garcia’s lair with him going “ow ow ow” behind her. So, you didn’t really pay much mind to him because you could deal with one annoying know-it-all to have such an amazing job with great coworkers minus the one.

“Look, I’m not happy about this either,” you said as you climbed into the driver’s side of the SUV, “But at least I’m not being a whiny bitch about it and being rude to the other person’s face.”

“Oh wow, I’m so sorry that I hurt your feelings,” Spencer mocked.

“Fuck you, Reid,” you shook your head.

-

David Whitney was on edge the second you arrived and showed him your badges. He was bouncing his leg up and down, he couldn’t sit still, and he kept avoiding eye contact.

He knew way too much about the other victim that wasn’t even one of his clients but you didn’t have anything solid on him. His house seemed very neat so you doubted he kept anything incriminating here. Organized offenders usually have a secondary location. So, you decided to push his buttons a little.

“I mean blitz attacks, leaving the bodies on the side of dirt roads,” you combed through the crime scene photos, “This guy was a real coward.”

Spencer picked up on what you were trying to do and his eyes widened, he was subtly shaking his head and mouthing “no”.

“Excuse me?” David asked.

“Well, I’m just saying a real man wouldn’t cower in the bushes and blindside a woman. He must not be very strong,” you stated, “He probably can’t even get it up.”

Before you even had time to react, David pulled out a switchblade knife from inside the couch cushions and put you in a chokehold, pressing the cool metal up to your throat. You closed your eyes tightly.

“David, you don’t have to do this,” Spencer stood with his gun pointed at you both.

“This bitch insulted me,” he snarled.

“She insults me too. That doesn’t make you any less of a man,” Spencer spoke carefully, “Just put the knife down and I’ll escort you out.”

David sighed, dropping the knife to the floor and releasing you.

Spencer put David in handcuffs and walked him outside as reinforcements came running in.

“Are you okay, Y/L/N?” Hotch asked.

“Yep, a little shaken up but fine. Thank you,” you stood.

“Let’s get you to the medics,” Morgan grabbed your arm to support you as you walked over to the ambulance.

Spencer never checked on you.

-

You knew your decision in the field was a little rash and you wanted to thank Spencer for essentially saving your life.

However, there was no way in hell you could verbally get out an apology while staring at his smug face, but you could bake. You settled on a note tucked inside a tupperware container of your Grandma’s special recipe of chocolate chip cookies. It was a good peace offering, maybe even a chance to start fresh.

During your lunch break, you took the tupperware from your desk drawer and approached the break room where Reid had entered about 5 minutes ago.

“I’m just saying I could not have been more clear in my message to her that it was too dangerous but of course, Y/L/N didn’t listen cause Y/L/N is going to do whatever she feels like,” Spencer stirred his coffee.

No one had noticed you standing in the doorway yet.

“Reid, you’ve got to be nicer to her. She earned her spot here just like the rest of us,” Emily defended you.

“Did she though? How much do we really know about her? She couldn’t even tell me how many pages the FBI protocol manual was,” Spencer said.

“That’s not a normal thing people know,” Morgan retorted.

“Well, I’m just saying the team was perfectly fine before her and it would probably be better off if she left,” Reid finished.

Garcia looked up from her yogurt to see you standing there, “Oh, Y/N”.

Spencer turned around in his chair as you angrily stormed up to him.

“Here’s your cookies, asshole,” you seethed, grabbing the note from inside and crumpling it up into a little ball and tossing it into the trash.

“Y/N!” Emily called after you but you were already gone.

The whole team glared at Spencer and picked up their lunches, leaving him alone at the table.

Spencer retrieved the balled up paper from the trash, having to fish through Rossi’s week old pasta and Anderson’s half eaten tuna fish sandwich.

Dear Reid,

Thank you for saving my life, I guess. These are my Grandma’s secret recipe for chocolate chip cookies so I hope you enjoy. I think we got off on the wrong foot and I would like to start over. I think cases would be a lot less miserable for everyone if we got along.

Thanks again,

Y/L/N

Spencer, you’re such an idiot, he thought to himself.

You never came back after your lunch break ended and Derek made Spencer go tell Hotch why it’s his fault you were missing the rest of the day.

He tried to call you multiple times but they always rang out before going to voicemail.

Spencer hesitantly knocked on Penelope’s door at the end of the day.

“Is she okay?” he asked softly.

“You don’t get to ask that as the person who hurt her in the first place. Also, she told me to tell you that don’t you dare go to her apartment to ‘check on her’. I’m headed over there myself actually,” Penelope collected her things and shut off her monitors.

“Will you at least tell her I’m really sorry?” Spencer followed her to the elevator.

“Absolutely not. I’m not doing any apologizing on your behalf,” Penelope huffed as the elevators shut.

-

You came in the next morning, keeping your head down. You grabbed a pen from your cup holder and the first folder on your stack before getting to work.

You were on the second page of the file when your clean, empty tupperware was placed in front of you plus another baking dish with aluminum foil over the top.

You glanced up to see Spencer guiltily looking down at you and you returned your eyes back to the file.

“I-I made you cinnamon rolls,” Spencer broke the silence.

“Are they poisoned?” you asked, not sparing him another glance.

“No, they’re not poisoned,” he assured you.

“I’m just saying how can I trust you as you have made it very apparent you would like me off this team.”

“I didn’t mean that,” Spencer was quick to reply.

“Then why the hell did you say it, Reid?” you slammed your pen down.

You grabbed your empty coffee mug and briskly walked to the break room but unfortunately, Spencer was right behind you.

“I didn’t eat any of your cookies by the way. Not that I didn’t want to but I felt like I didn’t deserve them so I handed them out to everyone else.”

“Oh how kind, taking credit for my work,” you tried to close the door in his face.

“I told them that they were from you,” Spencer insisted.

You rolled your eyes as Spencer grabbed the coffee pot before you could get to it, pouring your mug of coffee for you.

“What do you want from me, Reid?” you asked defeatedly.

“I want you to try a cinnamon roll and let me explain.”

“Fine but only because I didn’t have breakfast yet and I want to critique your baking skills,” you huffed, walking back to your desk.

Spencer gingerly placed one of the sticky frosting-coated rolls on a napkin and pushed it towards you. You tentatively bit into it. Damn it, it was actually delicious.

“It’s okay,” you understated.

You knew Spencer hardly ever used his kitchen let alone be up baking all night. He even chose a recipe that required more time and effort because the yeast dough would have to rise for a few hours.

“That’s good. The first batch didn’t come out as great...or the second,” he smiled softly.

“Well, the floor is all yours, Reid. Please explain to me why you talk shit about me to my co-workers when I’m in the other room,” you leaned back in your chair and crossed your arms.

Spencer muttered something incoherent.

“I have to hear the apology, you know,” you said, enjoying watching him uncomfortable.

“You’re intimidating to me because you’re intelligent, beautiful, and courageous. I think I was a little jealous that my spotlight as the ‘kid’ of the BAU was coming to an end so I said some harsh, completely untrue things and I’m sincerely sorry.”

“Oh my god,” you smirked, “Hotch was right, you are an elementary school kid.”

“In what way?” he curiously asked.

“You like me like like like me. You don’t know how to talk to the girl so you pull her pigtails on the playground,” you giggled.

“I take it back. You’re a horrible profiler,” Spencer was getting up from his seat, completely flustered.

“Awww,” you were laughing at Spencer’s bright red face as he went to go to the break room to fill his coffee mug.

When he got back to his desk, a sticky note was placed front and center.

In typical elementary school fashion…

Will you go get coffee with me?

Check:

Yes

or

No

Spencer smiled before picking up his pen and checking one of the boxes, crumpling the sticky note up into a ball and throwing it over to your desk.

“Good choice. See you Saturday at 9 at the cafe down the street,” you grinned.

“It’s a date,” he smiled.