#of looking up A Guy to name the cemetery after

[the-hilda-librarians-wife]

Considering the ask I got about christianized speech in Hilda fic writing and Sadie’s tags about the idiom I mentioned, the topic of “do christians exist in the Hilda universe?” has been on my mind. And then, I remembered that there’s canonically a place called Saint Guglow’s Cemetery

So I thought “hey, that’s interesting. Is that a saint I don’t know about?” and looked it up. But nope, not a single positive result to tell me who the hell mr. Guglow might have been. Which leaves me with two options:

1- There aren’t christians in the Hildaverse, but whatever religions there might be there is at least one which utilizes the concept of saints and canonization, or-

2- There are not only christians, but also specifically catholics in the Hildaverse. And they have access to exclusive secret saints over there

[wheelscomedyandmore]

You Might Not Ever Guess

Captain Kangaroo passed away on January 23, 2004 as age 76 , which is odd, because he always looked to be 76. (DOB: 6/27/27 ) His death reminded me of the following story.

Some people have been a bit offended that the actor, Lee Marvin, is buried in a grave alongside 3 and 4 star generals at Arlington National Cemetery . His marker gives his name, rank (PVT) and service (USMC). Nothing else. Here's a guy who was only a famous movie star who served his time, why the heck does he rate burial with these guys? Well, following is the amazing answer:

I always liked Lee Marvin, but didn't know the extent of his Corps experiences.

In a time when many Hollywood stars served their country in the armed forces often in rear echelon posts where they were carefully protected, only to be trotted out to perform for the cameras in war bond promotions.

Lee Marvin was a genuine hero. He won the Navy Cross at Iwo Jima. There is only one higher Naval award... the Medal Of Honor

If that is a surprising comment on the true character of the man, he credits his sergeant with an even greater show of bravery.

Dialog from "The Tonight Show with Johnny Carson": His guest was Lee Marvin Johnny said, "Lee, I'll bet a lot of people are unaware that you were a Marine in the initial landing at Iwo Jima ..and that during the course of that action you earned the Navy Cross and were severely wounded."

"Yeah, yeah... I got shot square in the bottom and they gave me the Cross for securing a hot spot about halfway up Suribachi. Bad thing about getting shot up on a mountain is guys getting' shot hauling you down. But Johnny, at Iwo I served under the bravest man I ever knew... We both got the cross the same day, but what he did for his Cross made mine look cheap in comparison. That dumb guy actually stood up on Red beach and directed his troops to move forward and get the hell off the beach. Bullets flying by, with mortar rounds landing everywhere and he stood there as the main target of gunfire so that he could get his men to safety. He did this on more than one occasion because his men's safety was more important than his own life.

That Sergeant and I have been lifelong friends. When they brought me off Suribachi we passed the Sergeant and he lit a smoke and passed it to me, lying on my belly on the litter and said, where'd they get you Lee?' Well Bob.. if you make it home before me, tell Mom to sell the outhouse!"

Johnny, I'm not lying, Sergeant Keeshan was the bravest man I ever knew.

The Sergeant's name is Bob Keeshan. You and the world know him as Captain Kangaroo."

On another note, there was this wimpy little man (who just passed away) on PBS, gentle and quiet. Mr. Rogers is another of those you would least suspect of being anything but what he now portrays to our youth.

But Mr. Rogers was a U.S. Navy Seal, combat-proven in Vietnam with over twenty-five confirmed kills to his name. He wore a long-sleeved sweater on TV, to cover the many tattoos on his forearm and biceps. He was a master in small arms and hand-to-hand combat, able to disarm or kill in a heartbeat.

After the war Mr. Rogers became an ordained Presbyterian minister and therefore a pacifist. Vowing to never harm another human and also dedicating the rest of his life to trying to help lead children on the right path in life. He hid away the tattoos and his past life and won our hearts with his quiet wit and charm.

America's real heroes don't flaunt what they did; they quietly go about their day-to-day lives, doing what they do best. They earned our respect and the freedoms that we all enjoy.

Look around and see if you can find one of those heroes in your midst.

Often, they are the ones you'd least suspect, but would most like to have on your side if anything ever happened.

Take the time to thank anyone that has fought for our freedom. With encouragement they could be the next Captain Kangaroo or Mr. Rogers.

Send this on will you please? Nothing will happen to you if you don't, but it will tell what a "real" HERO is made of.

[redflagshipwriter]

Ghost Driver 3: Timterlude

masterpost

“Inspector.” Batman arrived at the police building bare minutes after the selfie of their current biggest suspect had blown up on twooter. Robin balanced on the edge of the rooftop, fingers gripping stone. Woo, safe. He mentally cheered. A quick glance around showed only one other person, and it wasn’t the white-haired meta they were looking for.

“No need, Batman,” Inspector Gordon said. He looked like he had a lot on his mind, Tim thought. Gordon started walking for the stairs. “There’s no trouble here. Joker is accounted for, the ghost kid left.” 

“Ghost?” Robin perked his head to the side. “Twooter guy is a ghost?” 

“The Joker was broken out of Arkham by the same suspect who sent that twoot.” Batman was a dog with a bone about it. “Robin. Can we track him down by that Twooter account?” 

“I can try,” Robin said, dubious. “You want me off patrol for that?” 

He didn’t really see the point. What were they looking for, a message draft where the guy listed his name and address? 

Batman grunted. 

That meant yes. Tim held in a sigh. That was him, off patrol again. Banished back to the cave about an hour after finally getting to go out because the Red Butthead was down for the count.

‘Worst after school job ever.’

“Right,” Gordon said vaguely. He pulled the door open. “Go home.” 

The door swung shut, muffling the sound of Batman’s answering grunt.

Robin followed his minder back to the Batmobile. He waited while Batman manhandled his bike out of the trunk and got it out. “See you at the cave,” he said, wishing Batman would say something nice like, ‘sure thing, Robin, I value your contributions.’

Pfft. As if. Tim sulked on his drive back to the cave, alone with the rushing wind and his thoughts. Batman was regressing lately. He was moody and insular again. It was outrageous. After all the work Tim had done to rehabilitate Batman, he was growling at people in public again! 

He needed a muzzle for that guy. It wouldn’t solve anything, but it would be massively embarrassing and-

“No, it might solve some of the Catwoman related inefficiencies. That bad kissing habit.” Tim kicked out the stand and left his bike in the entrance where Batman always told him not to leave it. He pulled off his gloves on his way to the big, battiest of all the bat computers, and slouched in Bruce’s chair. “Blegh.” Tim turned it on and navigated to twooter. He looked through “ThePhantomHunk”‘s account with a wrinkled nose. There wasn’t much there, but what there was… was honestly kind of embarrassing. There were four basically identical selfies and hundreds of low quality replies arguing with people about anything from whether or not Batman liked him to how good the latest video game installment in some ancient series was.

“Why’s he have all these followers?” Tim muttered. “He doesn’t post anything.” Phantom wasn’t a big celebrity by any means, but he had a few hundred followers that seemed like real people. He noted a really pretty Ivy League university cheerleader, a weatherman from someplace called Amity, and… a mayor???

Tim squinted. Why was Phantom being followed by the official Amity Park Mayoral twooter account? He opened it to double check that it wasn’t some unfunny impersonation. It appeared to be legitimate.

“New contender for origin,” Tim muttered, taking a note. He scanned bios for more references to Amity Park and started finding them. Wild. 

He closed that down and shot off a message to Oracle, telling her what he was up to. She sent back “HA”. 

“Very helpful,’” Tim muttered. He scowled all his way over to the bat beverages fridge and extracted a sports drink. 

That was when a brand new alarm went off. Tim startled so badly he nearly fell over. Then he rushed to disarm it before the ten second interval where the alert would be redirected to Batman’s comms. Once muted, he scrambled to see what it was. 

“That’s… depressing.” Tim bit his lower lip. It was a new alarm on the cemetery where Jason was interred. There was nothing visible on screen, but Batman’s equipment didn’t really give false alarms.

Was that why… had Bruce put that new security system up because someone had threatened his kid’s body? No wonder Bruce was out of sorts. Tim felt a little sick. He felt angry. The chair scraped across the floor when he got up. “I’ll handle it.” Tim muttered to himself as he pulled his gloves back on, checked his mask, and jogged to his ride. “Real quick.” 

This drive felt like nothing. The engine roaring underneath him revved him up into a righteous fury. If someone was messing around with Jason’s resting place, they were going to taste the soles of Robin’s boot.

The cemetery gate was still shut. Locked. Tim opened it and went in. Maybe no one was here. 

He stopped in his tracks. 

Or maybe there was a car parked somewhere impossible. How had anyone driven a car between the rows? Tim drove up in his motorcycle and came to a stop by the driver’s side door.

The driver looked up. White hair, tan skin, green eyes. He went still when he saw Robin and his face screwed up in confusion. He visibly said “huh!” out loud, and then shrugged. He waved through the window.

Tim raised his hand to wave back before he thought about what he was doing. He pulled the hand back down and scowled. “What are you-“

“So you’re like, haunting Jason?” the guy bulldozed over what he’d said. He kicked open his door and grinned. “So glad to see you! I know where one of his safe houses is, but he’s not there, and I can’t detect my way into a cereal box if I’m honest. Why’s he got a grave? I wasn’t sure this was the right guy but it’s clearly the right guy. Maybe my ghostdar is bad.” 

“….safe house?” Tim ignored most of the rambling and pointed at the grave. That’s where Jason was. It was grim, but that was where Jason was. And haunting? He wasn’t haunting Jason. He’d maybe sort of stalked him recreationally a little bit, but he’d gotten away with that. 

‘He said he was a ghost. What does he think is going on here?’

“Not here, I don’t think he spends time here.” Phantom’s eyebrows furrowed. “Gotta say I’m kinda surprised to discover he died. He’s so full of life, you know?” He shrugged.

Tim stared blankly. Jason was a tiny skeleton in a casket. 

“Anyway!” Phantom clapped his hands. “Don’t suppose you know where else he might be? The police guy said Batman kicked his butt, so he’s probably recovering somewhere. Where would he go for that?” 

A whole bunch of puzzle pieces slotted neatly into place with quiet clicks. Batman was out of sorts about the Red Hood and acting oddly in regards to Jason’s grave. He was as moody as he’d been after Jason died. 

And then, of course, what Phantom had said could hardly be categorized as subtle. 

‘Holy moly,’ Tim thought, ‘Jason faked his death and he is mad at Batman. Either that or he’s a ghost? I didn’t know he could do that. Could I do that? I need to see where this is going. And this guy is creepy… Is Jason safe? I need to make sure that he’s safe before I tell Batman anything.’

“Take me to the safe house that you know,” he said. “I can figure it out from there.” 

He was officially going undercover.

The guy held up the keys to his clunker and jingled them. “Hop in, creepy Robin.” 

“Creepy?” Tim asked, offended. He got in anyway. What was creepy about him? Tim didn’t have cat pupils, unlike some other people.

‘He assumed I was haunting that grave. Does he think I’m a ghost? Does he know a Robin died?’

“No offense.” Phantom carelessly started the car and lifted it directly upwards. Tim grabbed the door handle. “Wheee.” 

Phantom drove like a maniac. Phantom belonged in prison. Tim held on for dear life and tried not to throw up. Why was the car even on? The wheels weren’t touching the ground. Phantom was clearly propelling it. Did he not realize he was doing that?

‘Maybe he likes the sound of the engine?’ Tim theorized. ‘Or maybe it’s just habit and he hasn’t thought it through. How long has he been dead, to still be doing that little mundane thing?’

The safe house where Jason had been staying was… well, it definitely looked like a safe house. The only pay dirt was a phone that had been abandoned on the kitchen counter. Tim snatched it up and immediately started running a geotag script. 

“Yeah, he left that this afternoon,” Phantom said. He sat cross cross in the air and watched Tim curiously. “This is a weird tactic. Don’t you just know where he goes?” 

“I haven’t stalked him for years,” Tim said, and then wished he hadn’t. 

Phantom laughed. “Okay, damn.” He fidgeted. He was watching Tim too intensely. “Don’t wanna be rude, but you’ve got like, no ecto, dude.” He cocked his head to the side like that was a question. 

Tim didn’t know what ecto was. “Is that what you think?” He said, in his smuggest, most insufferable Robin tone.

Phantom rolled his eyes. His mouth twisted downwards. 

Shit. He might not have answered that well enough. Tim pretended to be absorbed in his task even though the tool he was using was running independently. 

His heart thudded in his chest as the program ran. He licked his lips. Was this going to turn to a fight? Tension started to rise. Was it really? Was it just in his head?

Beep.

“I have some possibilities for safehouses.” Tim held up the phone. “Here, on James Ave, I bet that’s where he went after his confrontation with Batman.”

There was a long pause. Phantom’s eyes glinted in an animalian, predatorial glint. It sent a shudder through Tim. He felt like he was in danger-

“Neat!” Phantom chirped. The spell was broken. “Let’s go.”

He couldn’t help but feel that he had dodged a bullet. Tim kept a hand near his toolbelt as he followed Phantom back to the car. 

The guy didn’t attack, for what that was worth. Tim buckled himself in and wished that he was in the backseat. He itched to get out of Phantom’s line of sight. If Jason really was down for the count after a confrontation between Batman and the Joker, Tim couldn’t leave him at the mercy of this guy. Phantom had released the Joker. The only thing in his favor was that Inspector Gordon hadn’t said he was a danger. 

Phantom rocketed off. They passed through downtown Gotham in a queasy rush of color, backlit by the growing daylight. This was way too late for Robin to be out in Gotham. He shouldn’t be here. 

…Batman was going to realize that he wasn’t in the cave. Very soon. Tim angled his body away from Phantom and tried to surreptitiously write a message on his wrist watch. “Done for the night,” Tim lied. 

Boy, he hoped that he didn’t end up in some kind of trouble. Batman was not going to notice him missing for a long time, if he believed that message. 

He crossed his fingers.

[wellcollapse]

buddie is canonically romantic. to Me.

eddie was introduced to buck slow-motion style. buck tried to battle his inner bisexual rage for an entire episode but couldn’t stay angry at eddie’s pretty face for longer than twenty minutes — my guy folded the minute eddie extended that first olive branch. buck wistfully watched eddie and the little boy he would come to love as a son through a glass-paneled window not knowing that he’d eventually belong on the other side of that glass door. buck provided the solution to eddie’s very first on-screen struggle and wormed his way into eddie’s heart and home all in the span of one episode. without eddie asking him for any of it. buck called eddie attractive at least three times in season two alone. and then an elf called them gay and buck skipped away after hearing it. eddie gave buck the most precious thing in his life to cheer him up. and buck lost him. but eddie came back to him anyway and then gave him the second most precious thing — something he couldn’t even give his own wife — his trust. they had a lover’s spat in a grocery store. buck was treated like a grieving widow when eddie was buried underground. eddie’s memories of buck and chris were enough to pull him back from death’s cold embrace. eddie nearly bit buck's head off at the train derailment because he couldn’t stand the idea of buck risking his own life for abby. when eddie was shot, he spent the moment he thought would be his very last reaching out for his best friend. buck saved him. of course he did. eddie was planning to stick it out with a woman he knew he could never love and would never love until buck reminded him that he deserved better. buck got pistol-whipped after nearly going off on someone who threatened their eddie's child. eddie left the 118 and buck made out with his replacement. buck was in the room. buck's girlfriend talked to the woman he cheated on her with and buck never once bothered to intervene because he was too busy spending time with eddie. buck helped eddie patch up the holes in his wall. buck spent an entire season looking for the right couch to rest on and then passed out within seconds on eddie's couch. the right couch. buck was struck by lightning and eddie's hands brought him back to life. eddie couldn't look at buck while he was in a coma because it reminded him a little too much of losing his wife. but he brought christopher in anyway. of course he did. they went on a date where eddie stared at buck like he wanted to consume him. a little part of eddie died in that cemetery. eddie asked buck to perform Official Coparenting Duties with his son. buck uttered eddie's name eleven times in the episode where he discovered his bisexuality. buck was left at the curb on his first date with a man and his first priority was still the fact that he lied to his best friend. both of them actively looked like they wanted to die at the idea of nothing changing between them. eddie suggested matching couple's costumes. they sang what i like about you. buck ripped off eddie's shirt. eddie poured beer in his mouth. buck was the one to pull eddie out of the world that he tried to imagine with kim. their final scene of the season was the two of them. alone. together.

...who the hell is that? you can have my back any day. there's nobody in this world i trust with my son more than you. are you hurt? three minutes and seventeen seconds. comes in handy when you have a bunch of holes in your walls. you don’t have to tell me how great eddie is, i’ve known that since the first day i worked with him. what you always do. talk to him. you know how much christopher misses you? how could you. you're not around. i forgive you. you didn't end up like you. you act like you're expendable, but you're wrong. you were missed. thank you. for not giving up. he got the help he needed and that started with you. two cut lines. you don't have to be anything for anybody. can't you both be good cops? no. isn't that what we all want in a partner? knowing that they have your back? he’ll love you like we all do. i love you, i love you, i love you.

buck and eddie’s story is already a romance. regardless of their current relationship status in canon, their story is already a love story. and i wouldn't have it any other way.

[samsno1]

Celebrating

Dean Winchester x F!Reader

hi, heres what i promised to the dean girls! i don't know what to say, this is long and i don't know if the smut is good enough, might edit later, also, dean in this red jacket is my favorite

Summary: It had been a while since you got some and at night of celebrating a successful hunt you expected to finally, after a long time, get laid

Warnings: SMUT, piv, unprotected sex (wrap it up), finger sucking, jealousy (? if you squint), oral f. recieving, fingering, dean is so in love ohmygod, english is not my first language, not proof read (if i forgot anything let me know)

Read it on AO3

WC: 4.7k

You can learn how to change Y/N for your actual name here

enjoy!

It was difficult for you to find anyone willing to spend the night with you in the current settings of your life, having to lie about what you do, who you are…Basically create a whole new personality just to be able to bring someone to your motel room. In that sense, it was frustrating, both sexually and mentally to be put in this scenery but, either way, saving lives was more important than getting laid, even if you were thoroughly stressed beyond comparison by your inability to find a guy (or girl). 

You, Sam and Dean had gone to California for what you discovered, after great questioning and piles of research, was a simple salt ‘n burn of a poor ghost of a roadkill and was haunting that particular highway and crashing trucks of drivers who were mildly intoxicated behind the wheel.

After finding out where the bones were buried you went to the cemetery and started digging up the grave. Shovel after shovel of dirt fell behind you while you panted in exhaustion until you hit something hard at the bottom of the hole you dug up.

You harshly broke the wooden casket, revealing the remains of the ghost and a putrid smell hit your nose like everytime it happened when you had a salt ‘n burn. You scrunched up your nose and threw the shovel on the ground beside you, reaching with a hand towards Dean for him to help you get out of the hole.

“There it is.” You say proudly as you stare down at the decomposed body being covered with salt by Sam while Dean reaches for the alcohol in the bag and the lighter in his pocket.

You three watch as the bones light up in an orange fire, burning away what’s tying the poor soul to this world, the heat radiating in your skin. After some time you bump your shoulder with Dean’s, making him look at you.

“Let’s go, I need a shower so we can go out and celebrate” You say with a grin as you turn back to walk towards the Impala and Dean follows suit along with Sam, the fire slowly extinguishing itself behind you.

You opened the door to the backseat, the creaking of the hinges echoing through the night, getting inside and closing the door with a thud. Dean and Sam sat in their designed seats at the driver and shotgun, respectively, and you drove into the night towards the motel.  

“I saw a bar not far from where we are staying” Dean said and you hummed and Sam nodded. “You two might have to come back alone, you know” He suggested with a smirk and Sam scrunched his nose and let out an amused huff and you chuckled dryly, a weird nausea bubbling in your stomach.

Deep down you wished Dean could see you the way he sees the bartenders and strippers in bars or clubs you three often go to. You didn’t know if he thought you were too rough, too scarred, both mentally and physically. You usually dressed up nice, using makeup from time to time when you noticed your eyebags were getting darker or when your lips looked too pale. You also tried your best with clothing, well, the best someone could do when you were a hunter. Either way, you never looked like those girls, they were absolutely stunning, even for you, and you couldn’t compete with them.

You shook your head. You were probably thinking these things because it had been some time since you last got laid. Tonight was your night, you were feeling it, you were taking someone to your room.

Dean turned the car off after parking and you got out, going to the trunk to get your bag.

“You guys meet me in my room? I’ll most likely take longer to get ready” You said with a grin and the boys nodded. You took out the keys to your room and got in, throwing your bag over your bed and going to another bag you had in your room, where you kept your “fancy” clothes and makeup.

You took out a beautiful black dress with long sleeves that ended in your mid thighs. It was a dress you thrifted when you went on a hunt alone a while ago and never had the opportunity to use it. When you tried it on, though, it hugged your curves in all the right places, made your body look amazing and you felt as confident as one could feel.

You left the dress over the bed and rushed to the bathroom to take a shower, smiling to yourself. You took your time, washed your hair thoroughly and finished it off in the usual way. In the hunting life you often get your hair very dirty almost everyday with blood, dirt, ectoplasm…you name it. So, keeping it lucious and healthy was a process that you grew fond of doing to recollect some of that normalcy that hunting didn’t give you.

You came out of the shower with a towel wrapped around your body and picked up an underwear set that was, well, sensual to say the least and dropped the towel to the ground to put it on, the dress going over it, careful not to mess up your hair in the process.

You looked at yourself in the mirror and whistled in surprise at your own appearance, you looked good. Time for makeup.

You didn’t do much, a simple concealer, contour and blush with mascara and a smokey eye was enough to drop any man to the ground.

You decided to put shoes on because, first, if you really had to walk back, heels weren’t helpful, second, you didn’t have your heels with you at the moment.

While you were finishing up you heard a knock on your door. You opened it and there they were, Sam and Dean, practically on the same looks, just cleaner, waiting for you.

They both eyed you up and down, drinking your appearance in, Dean dropping his jaw slightly as he stared at your exposed thighs. Sam let out an impressed sigh and cleared his throat.

“Wow Y/N you look…amazing” He said and you smiled, looking down, feeling a tad bit embarrassed.

“Yeah…” Dean agrees, half on earth, half in his head trying to get rid of the thoughts of those beautiful legs wrapped around his neck while his nose deep into your–

“Well, thank you, I hope it isn’t too much.” You said.

“No, n–no, ha, it’s not, at all,” Dean said to quickly, finally grasping the courage to look into your eyes, the beautiful colors drowning him and your shy smile making him want to smash his lips to yours that moment. He cleared his throat. “Shall we go?” He offered.

“Yes, let me just get my phone” You said and went inside for a couple seconds, coming out with it and your wallet. “C’mon!”

You passed through them and went towards the car. Sam elbowed Dean to make him turn to him.

“You are staring at her like she’s a cheeseburger and you haven’t eaten in days, man” Sam teased and Dean frowned at him “You were practically drooling”

“I–I was not, okay? She just looks…pretty, that's all” Dean said, ignoring Sam’s ‘Yeah, right’ and going to the driver's seat in the Impala, you already sat down in the backseat. After Sam got in you all went to the bar and you felt particularly excited this time.

“Okay, every single one who tried to flirt with me was a disaster” You said, coming back to the table with a sigh, Sam and Dean almost laughing at you as you handed them their beers. “Seriously, who do I have to kill to get laid in this shit”

You took a swig of your beer and looked around once more, trying to find a decent man for you to take back tonight when you eyed a handsome black haired guy a few feet away. You smiled to yourself and got up from your seat.

When you walked up to him you didn’t see it but Dean was fuming with jealousy, this feeling bubbling up inside him that made his fists unconsciously clench over the table. He tried flirting with other women that night, chatting them up like he usually did but it all went down the drain the moment his eyes darted to you again, a guy practically snuggling up to you while you gently pushed him away and refused his advances, either not finding him attractive or just not feeling a spark.

He should be the one you looked at, he knew everything about you, how you liked your coffee, your favorite drinks, the faint lines that would appear around your lips when you smiled, the way your eyes lit up when you were talking about something you enjoyed. He knows you.

Sam noticed his brother’s demeanor and called out to him to snap him out of his jealous haze. Dean turned his eyes to Sam and he had this stupid smirk on his face, sipping the beer once again to hide his amused smile.

“What?” Dean snapped, his hand wrapping around the bottle, the cool glass doing nothing to ease his temper down, his knee going up and down under the table with nervousness.

“Nothin’” Sam answered and finished his beer, getting up and leaving a couple dollars, enough to pay for the beers he drank. “I’m going back, y’know, tired. Tell Y/N”

Dean nodded, he didn’t know if Sam meant for him to tell you that Sam went back or that you’ve been in his dreams for months now, not all of them cute and fluffy, some made him wake up with a hard-on, sweating and longing for you.

He looked in your direction and you were coming back with an annoyed face, arms crossed in front of you, feet stomping the ground. Dean made a confused face and when you got back to the table you sat down on the chair with a scoff, his eyes never leaving you.

“He has a girlfriend” You murmured and then realized you were one man short “Where’s Sam?”

“He called in, tired” Dean said and you hummed. He had a weird look on his face, something you couldn’t make out what was. You sighed and looked down.

“I think we should go too, this night was disappointing to me” You breathed out a laugh “I’m impressed you didn’t find anyone, I saw some girls eyeing you”

“Nah, I’m fine,” He said and finished his beer. You widened your eyes at him but didn’t say anything, just nodding hesitantly in shock. “Let 's go?”

He said getting up and you mirrored him, pulling your dress down a bit, Dean’s eyes on you all the time. He bit his lower lip and mentally told himself to cool it.

As you two walked towards the car you couldn’t help but look at him up and down, silently appreciating his figure. His strong jawline, his green eyes now dark thanks to the night, his slightly crooked nose that made him look unique.

When you got into the car, in silence, you drove back to the motel and you felt an unmistakable tension in the air and you were worried you might’ve done something to upset the man. You started to fidget with your fingers over your lap, the street lights going past the car through the window as Dean sped up through the pavement.

His hands gripped the wheel, holding back the urge to pounce on you right there and then. When he parked the car and reached for the door handle you held his wrist.

“Wait! Dean, is something the matter?” You asked, big eyes looking into his as he looked at you, noticing the trouble behind those beautiful orbs. He wanted to punch himself in the gut for making you feel bad. “What happened?”

“Nothing it’s just…” He trailed off and looked at your hand wrapping his wrist. His other hand enveloped over it and your skin flared up with goosebumps. He felt warm, rough, his strong grip comforting. You took your hand away from his wrist, allowing his hand to wrap over your and pull you into him.

You yelped and was about to question him when you felt his plump lips against yours, his other hand hesitantly holding your cheek and you melted. It took you a while to process what was happening. Dean Winchester is kissing you. Though, when you did, your free hand went to the back of his neck to deepen the kiss.

Everything felt like a fever dream and you were afraid that if you pulled away you’d wake up and Dean would be gone. His lips had a taste of beer lingering from the night out, they were full and smooth. You felt like you were drowning in this feeling until Dean pulled away, seeking a breath of air.

You looked between his eyes, your breaths molding into each other from the closeness. You moved the hand he was holding up his chest, to his shoulder, up to his cheek, his eyes closing and his head snuggling against your hand, his fingers fidgeting around your wrist.

He opened his eyes, a thousand feelings swimming behind his green orbs as you both communicate in silence, an agreement, a revelation. You smiled and pulled him in again, this time with no hesitation. His hand went down your arm slowly, your skin warming up where his hand passed by, and settled by your waist, pulling you closer. His tongue teased your bottom lip and you eagerly opened your mouth with a low moan.

At that, he smirked into the kiss and pulled you over his lap, the steering wheel digging into your back, his hands both placed at your hips as you unconsciously rocked against him. He let go of your mouth again and you stared down at him.

“I wanted to do this so bad” He whispered and you smiled, your fingers playing with the hair at the nape of his neck mindlessly. He placed a loving kiss at your jaw and pulled away again while you hummed, content.

When you looked at his face again there was a frown and he was avoiding your eyes. You grabbed both his cheeks and made him look at you.

“What was that thought, hm?” You ask lightly as to not push him away. You didn’t want this to end, not ever. He seemed nervous.

“What does this mean to you?” He asked and you furrowed your eyebrows. “To me, Y/N,” he continued, his hands rubbing up and down your thighs “you’re everything, I mean, you– you’re perfect. You’ve seen everything I’ve done and never let me down, you’re beautiful and so much more. If to you I’m just a way to get off then–”

You cut him off with a peck on his lips.

“Stop. Right there.” You started, looking deep into his eyes. “Dean I– you are everything I’ve ever wanted, needed. You mean more to me than words can describe, you’re not just a one night stand, you’re my dream”

When you finished, he didn’t waste a second to wrap a hand behind your neck and steal your lips again, his mouth addicting. There was so much passion, feeling and desire pumping through your veins.

Your dress was high on your thighs and one of his hands squeezed the flesh hungrily, making you groan in his mouth. He went further with his hand, his thumb caressing over your covered sex and you opened your mouth in a whimper.

Dean attacked your neck with kisses and hickeys, his teeth leaving a pattern over your skin as his hand ghosts over where you need him the most.

“Dean…” You say, a beg behind your words and he pulls away, both his hand and his mouth, making you shiver from the lack of contact and the cool feeling his saliva left behind over your neck.

“Sweetheart, as much as I’d like to have you in the car,” He said, his voice rough and deeper with lust, his pupils wide as he opened the door, a cool breeze coming in that did little to nothing to cool your skin off. “you deserve a bed, another time” He finished, leaving an open mouthed kiss under your ear.

Another time. You nodded, words failing you as you stepped out of the car, adjusting your dress and hair the best you could to seem decent. Dean stood up behind you and let a hand linger on your waist, eager to touch you at all times and all ways.

You both walked towards the door of your room, Dean’s fingers tightening on your skin the longer it took for you to get the door open. The moment you were able to open it, he pushed both of you in, turning you around and pinning you to the door inside, closing it with a loud noise behind your back and his lips were on your again, his hands roaming over every inch of your skin.

You yelped in shock but soon reciprocated the touches and kisses, your fingers wrapping around his jacket and pulling it off, his hands momentarily leaving you to drop it to the ground. When his hands came back he grabbed both your legs and lifted you, forcing you to wrap your legs around his hips for support, his fingers digging into your skin yet again.

Your hands pulled on his hair, your tongues battling in a messy kiss when you feel your body move to the bed, your body being gently placed over it.

Dean pulled away, standing up fully and you took him in with a bite of your lip. He unbuttoned his flannel, slowly and you lifted your dress over your hips, lifting them off the bed to help, revealing your panties and over your head to take it off completely and throwing the fabric away.

Dean’s breathing got heavier, the confine of his pants bothering him as he finally discards the flannel, torso naked to you. You drink his defined physique with hooded eyes and he smirks down at you, his head going close to the waistband of your panties, eyes never leaving yours as he leaves kisses from your hips to your stomach to the valley of your breasts until he came face to face with you again, a smile lingering in his lips making one of your own appear on yours.

Your hands grab at his cheeks and pull him in again as he holds you by your waist, pulling your near naked torso into his. His fingers ghost over every inch of new exposed skin as if he was memorizing every atom of your being like you were going to disappear.

Your hands start to explore over his chest, the strong muscles flexing against your palms, your nails scratching at his wide back and shoulders.

His hands travel behind your back to unclasp your bra and you let him, letting the undergarment go loose against your breasts and Dean takes it off. He drinks the view in, staring and you start to feel self-conscious and take your hands to cover yourself up. Dean catches onto that and kisses you again, one big hand grabbing at your right breast and you whimper in his mouth.

“I always knew you were beautiful” He whispers against your lips and pulls back to look at you again “But you are the most perfect thing I’ve ever laid eyes on”

This time you turned away from him with a stupid smile on your face.

“Says you” You say and turn to him again, your hands over his shoulders and moving towards his back “Your back is a perfect place for my nails to dig in” You whisper seductively on his ear and leave a hickey on his neck. He groans and lowers his head to wrap his mouth around one of your nipples, the warm feeling against the sensitive nub making you arch your back into him and your fingers to tangle in his hair.

“Dean, fuck–” You moan as he gently bites your nipple and moves to the other breast, his eyes looking at you from below and drinking in your noises.

One of his hands sneaked up your inner thigh and teased your clit over your panties and you shivered, a smirk on his lips against your breast. He slowly took your panties off, discarding them on the ground and now you were completely bare below him, vulnerable.

His middle finger pressed over your clit and you arched again.

“Dean, please…” You beg, your best attempt at puppy dog eyes looking down at him and he adds his ring finger, starting to do slow circles over the sensitive nub as he kisses up your neck, your noises of pleasure egging him on.

He lowers his fingers to your entrance and he slips both in with no restraint given your wetness, the feeling making you let out a moan and grab onto his shoulders as he hooks his fingers inside you, touching that special spot.

He smirks smugly and continues his ministrations, your pussy clenching and tightening around his fingers making him groan.

“You’re so wet” He mumbles “I wonder how you taste like” He gives your nose a peck, your mind too drowned in pleasure to respond to his words. He kisses down your body, his fingers never leaving you, until he's facing your cunt. He places both your legs over his shoulders, your thighs resting around his cheeks, the light stubble leaving a tingly feeling behind.

He leaves a lingering kiss over your clit and you buck your hips, looking for more friction. He teases a bit more, biting and sucking at your inner thighs, everywhere but where you needed his mouth to be. You took charge and grabbed at his hair, pulling his face closer and he complied.

“Oh, fuck!” You groan.

His tongue licked at your sex and your loud moans echoed through the walls, the warm muscle doing wonders against you and the mix of his fingers bringing you closer and closer to the edge, your eyes fluttering close in bliss.

“Dean, God” You moan as he squeezes your thigh. All the ministrations send shivers down your spine, your core tightening inside you, that familiar rush of warmth spreading through you. Your thighs try to close, forgetting Dean’s in between and he hums against your cunt, the vibrations making you feel like you were in heaven. “I’m cumming”

“Cum for me princess” He mumbles and you let go with a chant of his name. The feeling washes over you, making you feel lighter for a couple seconds, Dean helping you ride out your orgasm. When the stimulation becomes too much and you whine and squirm away, he gets up from his knees, chin glistening in your juices. He took his fingers out, a grunt scaping your throat at the emptiness. It was a sinful sight.

He crawled over you again, his middle and index finger teasing at your bottom lip.

“Open up” He said, voice deep and demanding and you obeyed, opening your mouth and letting his fingers in. You lick your juices clean off his fingers, never breaking eye contact, humming and moaning against his digits as Dean bites his lips with force. Your hand travels down to unbuckle his belt and he takes his fingers away from your mouth to kiss you.

Once you got the belt open, Dean backed away, taking his shoes off and unzipping his pants. Meanwhile, you drank in his appearance. His hair was a mess, a thin sheen of sweat covering his skin, his arms flexing as he lowered his pants along with his boxers. He was divine.

When he dropped the jeans his eyes drifted back to you, catching you staring and he smirks.

“See something you like?” He asks, closing the gap between you again, smashing your lips to his in yet another breathtaking kiss.

He completely lies you down on the mattress, his elbows supporting his weight over you as his cock bumps against your sensitive sex and you gasp, hand gripping the back of his neck.

“Fuck me” You say, bluntly and whiny but he gets the hint and aligns his member to your hole.

“Yes Ma’am” He says and starts to insert himself inside you, an immediate groan coming out of both your throats, his forehead dropping to the nape of your neck as his fingers dug into your hips, holding himself back to not slam into you at full force. You felt amazing around him, the warmth of your walls made him never want to go away.

“Oh my God” You moan as he slowly goes deeper, his cock throbbing inside you. Once he bottomed out you were breathing heavier than ever, pupils blown and nails teasing at his back. “Dean” 

“I’m right here sweetheart” He reassured you and left kisses over your shoulder to distract you. You grinned at his sweetness and rolled your hips against his, a sign that he could move.

“Move, please, I want to feel you” You mumbled and he obliged, instant pleasure going through your body.

“God, Y/N” He moaned close to your ear as he went faster, your moans getting louder.

He smashed his hips against yours, eyeing the way it went in and out, being deliciously consumed by your cunt, glistening with your slick and cum. He stared at you, your fucked out state, the way you were a moaning, whimpering mess beneath him and he felt proud to be the reason you were like this.

You felt every inch ripping your insides, Dean’s hands roaming through your body as his lips left bite marks and kisses around your skin. His lips wrapped around your nipple and everything just added more to the pleasure when his tongue circled around your nipple.

“You’re so pretty” He groaned after pulling away from your breasts and felt that familiar feeling go through him as your pussy clenched tighter around his cock. He was close and he knew you were too. His hands traveled both down to your lower body, one pressed over the skin under your belly button and the other circled your clit messly.

When he pressed down over your lower belly you felt him impossibly deeper and grabbed at the sheets underneath you to ground yourself to reality.

“Jesus– Fuck Dean, please!” You moaned incoherently as that bubble inside you was about to pop “I’m gonna cum, baby, please” You moaned again and you knew he was close to, his hips stuttering and losing rhythm.

“Cum with me Y/N” He said and not even seconds later you unraveled beneath him, your high hitting you like a bus, a loud moan rippling through your throat and Dean pulled out, cumming over your stomach, his chest heaving with his breaths.

Dean forced himself to get up and get a wet towel to clean you up in the bathroom, coming back and gently wiping away the fluids. You were spent and at the same time as happy as you could ever be.

You adjusted yourself in the bed while you waited for Dean to come back from the bathroom after discarding the towel, his naked shadow visible thanks to the light inside. When he walked out he smiled at you and snuggled beside you, tucking your head under his chin and wrapping an arm around your waist.

You were both silent for a while until he spoke up. 

“I love you so much” He said “And no, this is not post sex haze, I’ve loved you for so long” He admitted quietly above you and you felt your heart beating ten times faster at his words. You looked up at him and placed a gentle hand over his cheek to make him look down at you.

“I love you too, dumbass” You say with a chuckle and kiss him deeply again, pouring all the love you knew you felt towards him into the kiss.

A/N: Notes and reblogs encourage me to keep writing, feedback makes those writings better. Thank you for reading, Xoxo.

[reidmania]

loml | spencer reid

summary; after you and spencer reunite at JJ’s wedding after being broken up for two years, you are quick to realise it will never be the same as it was, you’re the love of his life, and he is the loss of yours.

warnings; exes to not lovers but something!! no happy ending, angst, fem reader, season 7 spence, mentions of arguments, falling back into feelings because its familiar, they are so in love, jj’s childhood friend!reader, reader wears a dress, no use of y/n cus ew, reader has long enough hair to have up, they are so meant to be its not even funny, everyone can see it. they are perfect for each other TIME IS MEAN!!!

an; hey this was ur fault ! also i made so much shit up abt the wedding because i cbf rewatching that ep tbh 🥰🥰

‘what a valiant roar, what a bland goodbye’ is this fic

also this was written in an hour and im sick and im pretty sure its horrible and doesn’t make sense but thats so okay!! lmk if u want a part two!! they deserve better pls want a part two!!

‘Who's gonna stop us from waltzing back into rekindled flames? If we know the steps anyway. we embroidered the memories, of the time I was away, stitching, "We were just kids, babe", I said, "I don't mind, it takes time" I thought I was better safe than starry-eyed. I felt aglow like this, never before and never since. if you know it in one glimpse, it's legendary. you and I go from one kiss to gettin married. still alive, killing time at the cemetery, never quite buried. in your suit and tie, in the nick of time. you lowdown boy, you stand up guy, holy ghost, you told me I'm, the love of your life’

You remembered it all too well.

The lights gleamed around the garden, there was some background music playing, quietly in the distance, probably louder for the people surrounding it. Whereas you had found yourself settled in a quieter corner of the beautifully set garden. The ceremony was beautiful, you sat through and tried to avoid shedding tears seeing someone so important so happy.

You were alone, watching the guests of the wedding dance when you felt the presence behind you. The familiar cologne filled your senses in a way that made your head spin and chest ache with familiarity and overwhelming comfort. Two years since you and smelt the cologne and it still had the same effect on you.

You remembered the conversation as if it was a broken record playing on repeat in your mind. How your head turned towards him and the smile lit up his face. Its not like you had ended on bad terms — not at all. It was a mutual agreement to break up all those years ago. You were just at two different points in your lives and it was beginning to clash.

His voice was gentle when he said your name. You had seen him around earlier, your heart had skipped a beat and your stomach filled with familiar butterflies, but you didn’t approach him. Now here he was, standing in front of you, saying your name as if no time had passed at all.

You repeated his name back, a smile on your face as you stood up from the white garden chair that had been delicately placed around the table. His arms enveloped you almost as soon as you were standing. You could recall the way they felt, safe, secure and the exact same as they had two years beforehand.

“You look great” He had mumbled into your hair, his hands pressing against the small of your back, furthering your presence against him, trailing of the silk of the floor length dress you had worn, face buried into your hair as if he had been waiting his entire life for this moment.

Your hands rested on the back of either of his shoulders, head resting against the front of his shoulder. You were sure he could feel the small breath of air you let out against his neck before you pulled yourself away from the hug. “So do you. It’s been so long.” You had said, eyes trailing over his face, taking in every noticeable change since the last time you had seen him.

“Too long.” He agreed, eyes mirroring yours as they danced along your features, as if he was committing it to memory.

The words had made your chest tighten and warm all at once. It wasn’t long before you were sitting at an empty table, catching up. You told him about everything that had changed in your time apart as did you. And then the topic swiftly changed as the two of you danced along fond memories of your years spent together.

“We were so young” He mumbled after you had recalled a specific memory of the two of you having pillow fights on late Saturday nights, a small thing that became a common ritual every night Spencer had been home on a Saturday. Your smiled had widened at his words — although only two years ago the maturity between you both and grown massively.

He added quickly as he reached out to take your hand, a familiar movement you had been neglected of the last two years. “I was too young, immature.. You always deserved more than what I could’ve given you then.” His words were sweet and sincere yet you begged to differ.

“I think that was the happiest i’ve ever been.” You recalled. Everyday spent with Spencer was a memory you kept safe in a secure part of your mind. You looked back at photos from that time, there was a certain gleam in your eye, one that wasn’t found in any photo recently, despite being content with your place in life currently.

Being with Spencer was a sort of fever dream, a sort of perfect you’d only find in a film or a romance novel, things like falling asleep while he read to you, or slow dancing in the dim moon light that gleamed through the kitchen window at late hours, small love notes left around the house, that was something that you failed to find anywhere else — not for a lack of looking.

His eyes stayed on yours, his skin glowing under the warmed yellow lighting of the fairy lights that dazzled the garden with their gleam, his eyes holding a certain sparkle you could only describe as nostalgia. “Me too.” He had said, eyes dropping from yours to your hand in his.

You didn’t know what to say. Your heart soared with the warmth from his touch, your mind fogging from any sense of realism, until your thumb traced his knuckles and it lacked the familiarity everything else did. His hands had grown rougher, more callous although the same soft in your touch.

“Dance with me?” He offered, eyes lifting to meet yours again. Voice gentle and barely above a whisper as if he was scared you would reject him, maybe even more scared you would accept and it wouldn’t be the same as it was.

You nodded, accepting anyways.

His hands dragged yours to the crowd of other people dancing. His hands moved to wrap gently around your waist, your arms slinging over his shoulders to wrap around his neck as his arms pulled you in close. Chest to chest. Heart to heart.

The music fell into background noise as your focus was pulled instead to the sound of his gentle breathing, and slow heartbeat as his head rested atop of yours that was press into his shoulder. You fell into step as if no time had passed at all, you swayed gently in his arms.

“I’ve missed you.” His words came out as a whisper and your heart pulled. This was wrong, you could feel it in your stomach yet the thought was quickly replaced by the feeling of home that buried itself in your ribcage as his hands trailed gently up and down your sides in a soothing familiar motion.

You wanted to reply and tell him you had missed him too, that every night you laid in bed and recalled every last moment between you too. How people from your past still asked about him, how their faces fell when you laughed and admitted you were no longer together.

You wanted to tell him that in the time that had passed you had still the framed photos in a box under your bed, how you hadn’t changed a single detail in your apartment just in case one day he came over. You wanted it to be familiar.

It was, This was. Everything about Spencer was familiar and it was safe.

“I think we needed the time.” You exhaled out, honestly. Maybe if you were to try again now it would end up differently. Maybe he was right in what he said earlier — you were both too immature to handle the intensity of the love the streamed between you. The pull that seemed magnetic the minute your eyes laid on his.

He hummed gently as his arms stopped their movements on your side and instead rewrapped themselves around your waist, dancing down your back, holding you close as he inhaled your scent. This was all he ever wanted.

“Everyone still tells me I was a fool for letting you go, that I was meant to be with you. I think they were right.” He mumbled out into your hair. You remembered being told the same thing. You remembered your friends telling you how sorry they were and how they could have never imagined you and Spencer ever breaking up, ‘you guys were the great love story’ they had rambled.

You shook your head against his shoulder. It was meant to happen like that. Maybe this was all you would ever be. Meant to happen, but never actually happening.

“Maybe” You exhaled, unable to bring yourself to say more as you relished in the moment. The distance of the last two years between you both seemed to disappear as your focus remained on everything that was the same.

The difference, he was different, you were different. Your likes and dislikes had changed, as you assumed his. How if you were to try again you would have to relearn one another. Everything he once knew about you was a distant memory, a familiar reminder of what had once been. Of what was once lost.

His lips pressed against the side of your head and your heart pressed against your chest uncomfortably as your heart beat increased. His hands left a burning trail on your skin even over the fabric of your dress. It was too similar, and too different all at once.

The love between you and Spencer was loud. You loved each other loudly. It was never meant to be a secret, everyone saw it in the shared glances, even now, in the way his touch was significantly gentler with you than anyone else, how your body relaxed in his grasp.

The love between you was loudest in the silence.

Everyone could see it.

Your mind burnt with the memory of the night you broke up, he brought the idea of a breakup up. He suggested it and you whole heartedly agreed. Not for a lack of love. You both mutually expressed the amount of love you had for each other throughout the entire conversation. It just wasn’t the right time. The conversation happened, he mumbled out ‘don’t be a stranger’ as he kissed your forehead in the doorway of your home.

You had let out a wet chuckle as his fingers brushed away the tears that stained your cheeks, similar ones on his own. You agreed, he mumbled an I love you, and then a ‘ill see you soon’

And you hadn’t seen him since.

Until now.

You hadn’t been bitter about it. You were partially glad you hadn’t seen him. You knew if given the chance in those two years you would’ve ran back to him in an instant. Told him how you were sure your heart hadn’t been beating regularly without him by your side, then listened to him ramble about the science of broken heart syndrome as you pressed soft kisses against every inch of his face.

“Whats going on in your pretty head?” He asked. You let out a laugh at his sweet words. The sentence something he had used numerous times throughout the years of your relationship whenever you found yourself lost in thought.

Everything had changed, yet stayed the exact same.

“I don’t think I’ll ever move on from us.” You mumbled out honestly. The words a weight on your chest, a truth that had been buried down your throat you failed to admit to anyone else.

His touch provided a specific burn against your skin, his voice playing an irreplaceable melody in your mind, his sweet words and whispered nothings written on every butterfly that filled your stomach, his eyes unparalleled to another. the feeling in your chest that only he could arise. the smile on your face only he could provide, the gleam in your eyes only present when he was too.

He had left a mark on you, your relationship had left you in a daze for the last two years without you even realising it. nothing would provide the same fulfilment as being by his side did.

Every feeling with him had been new and original, a sort of happiness you didn’t know was humanly possible. You were pretty sure he provided you with a dangerous amount of dopamine, an addictive amount.

If Spencer was a drug, then you had been going through withdrawals for years.

“I know I will never move on from us” His admission carried a different weight than yours did. Despite being the same the meaning was different.

it left your heart heavy and regret flowering in your chest.

“I should go, I told my roommate i’d be home early.” You whispered out, against the soft fabric of his suit jacket. His arms tightened around you momentarily before releasing his hold on you.

His eyes were lidded when he looked down at your face, your arms fell from his shoulders and your stomach twisted at the familiarity of the loss of his touch.

“Don’t be a stranger.” He said, voice quiet, meaningful and honest and you felt an overwhelming urge to vomit. Everything left unsaid over the last two years coming up in the back of your throat but remaining unsaid.

“I won’t.” You promised.

His lips pressed against your forehead as he squeezed your waist gently, before letting you go.

The movement was natural, like you would spend every day of the rest of your life doing it. as if you would wake up in the morning tangled a-mess in his arms, the you would find yourself a giggling mess during a pillow fight on an upcoming Saturday night. As if you were finally going to happen.

You didn’t see him again after you left that night.

You burnt with the memory of his arms and his lips against your skin that night for the next years of your life.

For a love so loud everything seemed so quiet. You recalled the goodbye between you two that seemed so peaceful and tame, an understatement of the love that blossomed when in one another’s presence.

An invalidation of everything he had made you feel.

For a great love story, someone had to experience a great loss.

And he was yours.

[uncannydevotion]

a/n: i've been thinking abt this request a lot lately so i've decided to finally write it. only took me two million years <3

includes: ticci toby, the bloody painter, x-virus, and homicidal liu.

warnings: not proofread i am writing this all in one sitting let's hope it's good, attempted murder against the reader in toby's part, angst! :jazz hands:, injuries, blood, panic attack in toby's part?? kinda?? you could call it that or you could say slender was doin some weird shit to his head, mentions of murder, mentions of past bullying, stalking, helen's kinda obsessed, unhealthy relationships, dead parents, needles, whatever the fuck cody injects into people, very morally ambiguous reader in cody's part, brief but slightly descriptive murder, randy is a warning i guess, mentions of fire, mentions of near death experiences, cigarettes, a gun, sully points a gun at reader but there's no real attempt of murder, a test to see how much i remember jeff's story cause i am Not rereading it it's 3am as im writing this.

TICCI TOBY

You really don't know what had compelled you to go into the forest so late at night. No... no, that's a lie. You do know. You knew exactly what had brought you to this forest.

Maybe you were crazy but you could've sworn you had seen your childhood friend at the edge of the forest near the cemetery the other night. It's so stupid, you knew that.

He's been missing for years now, classified as on the run after brutally killing his father, but you just... you had to know.

That's why you had entered the forest that night. No one else would be around, but... you really should've thought ahead, honestly. You should've brought a pocket knife, or some mace, or anything.

But how were you supposed to know that you would end up getting chased through the woods by a fucking crazy guy with hatchets? You don't even know where he came from, he just threw one of the hatchets at you and narrowly missed!

Consider yourself lucky, or whatever, but he seemed fairly determined to kill you.

You hid behind a thick tree, taking a moment to catch your breath. You're not sure how deep in the forest you had gone, but the area was starting to look familiar, so you assumed that you were getting close to the cemetery connected to the town.

But he was catching up to you, and fast. It's not like you could just fight him off, he had the advantage with, y'know, the hatchets.

Quick thinking is what leads to you grabbing a fairly sturdy branch from the ground. It was heavy, but you didn't have the luxury of caring about that right now as you pressed your back against the tree, forcing yourself to steady your breathing.

The sound of tongue clicking was familiar, and it grew closer and closer. You could hear leaves and twigs being stepped on. Cautiously, you took a glance around the tree. The man's back was turned towards you, but he was looking around.

Looking for you.

You knew this was the one chance you had, so you tried to be extra quiet as you approached him, raising the branch up high and using all your strength to knock him over the head with it.

The man falls to his knees, and as soon as he dropped his hatchets, you dropped the branch and snatched the weapons away, throwing them somewhere deeper in the forest just so he wouldn't be able to use them to hurt you.

Now, you knew you should've ran. He was no longer a threat, but... the tics, the way he didn't react to the pain of getting hit over the head like you thought he would've... he seemed dizzy, sure, but he was bleeding. He wasn't clutching his head, he wasn't hissing in pain.

It was all familiar, and it reminded you of...

"Toby?" You sounded breathless, chest heaving as you stared down at him.

His head shot up at the sound of his name, and behind his cracked goggles, you can see the way his eyes widened. Even though most of his face was concealed, you could see the...

Fear? Confusion? You're not sure what emotion it was, but it was so evident in the way he recoils from you when you reach out to him.

"Toby... what-" You couldn't even get another word out before he was interrupting you.

"No! No. No. I don't kn–click–know you." His voice cracked as he spoke, and he sounded pained. Not from the injury you had given him, but... as if there were something else.

You really don't know what's happening, all you knew was that the man you had considered to be your best friend when you were younger had just tried killing you, and is acting as if he doesn't know you.

No... not acting. His confusion, the lack of recognition, it was all real.

You couldn't get another word in before he was breaking down, clutching his head as if something was screaming inside it, "I don't know you! I don't know you!"

The pure agony in his voice had you stumbling back. Clearly, your presence wasn't helping him. Guilt clawed at your insides, and even though you didn't want to leave him like this, even though you wanted to figure out what had happened all those years ago, you knew you had no choice.

You stumbled out of the forest, the sound of Toby screaming echoing around you.

And though it was faint, you swore you heard static as well.

THE BLOODY PAINTER

Being friends with Helen had been hard, even before he killed almost the entirety of his class. He rarely ever spoke to you, and half of the time you wondered if he even thought of you as his friend.

You stood up for him against people like Judy and Ban, but there was only so much you could do.

There was one memory that you always thought of, even after you had grown up. It was the night before the school's Halloween party, and you had dropped by Helen's house to get his help on picking out a costume.

He had seemed... really distracted, that night. He wasn't fully there. When you asked him if he was okay, he just...

"Promise me that you'll stay my friend, no matter what happens."

It had caught you off guard, but you had made the promise. The next night, he killed his classmates before your parents dropped you off at the school. You didn't see him after that, because your parents refused to let you associate with him.

And now, years later, something was wrong.

You had heard from Helen's mother, months ago, that he had been released from the institution he had been in, apparently no longer a danger to himself or others, but he just...

Disappeared. Cut all contact.

And shortly after his release, you heard from an old friend that Judy and Maggie, two of the few classmates that had survived the massacre, had gone missing, along with the other three survivors.

Something deep down in your gut told you that it was Helen. When the bodies of the missing had been found inside of Helen's childhood home, you just knew.

You should've gone to the police, really, but it's not like they didn't already know. There was a manhunt out for Helen the moment the bodies were found, but he was long gone.

It's not like you had to be worried or anything, right? You were in a completely different state, living in a large city. You haven't spoken to him since you were kids, and it's not like he knew where you were at, right?

Well, you were wrong, apparently.

When the stalking started, you didn't want to believe it was Helen. I mean, seriously, why would he want anything to do with you? Unless...

You didn't want to think about it, but... he had gone back and killed all the survivors of his original massacre. And... you were technically a survivor, if only because you were late to the party. He didn't plan on killing you, did he?

Though, that fear was quickly squashed when he started leaving you gifts. They were nothing major, mostly sketches of you. They weren't signed, but you knew who they were from.

The feeling of eyes on you was something you just couldn't get used to, and you swear you started seeing him when you were out in the city.

You wanted to go to a bookstore? Helen was across the street. Taking a walk in the park? You swear you saw him sitting on a bench, sketching.

It felt as if you were going insane, honestly.

You... you really should have gone to the police, you think, when you got home one night to find your roommate hanging from the ceiling, their neck slit and their blood painted all over the walls.

In your roommates blood, on your wall, a heart was painted, followed by a question mark. Was this... a love confession? Was he asking if you loved him?

When you took a step back, towards the front door, you had bumped right into him. He was on you in an instant, and his hand covered your mouth to prevent your scream from being heard by anyone.

"Shh... I'm not going to hurt you. We made a promise, remember?"

X-VIRUS

Living at an orphanage had never been easy. You still remember the day you first arrived. Your parents had both died, and you had pretty much closed yourself away from everyone, refusing to interact with any of the other kids.

The caretakers had been concerned, especially when the other kids had started picking on you for being quiet and 'weird'.

In comes Cody, a kid your age with absolutely no filter and no regard for what was considered right or wrong. To this day, you still don't know what it was about you that made him hang around, but the moment he got to the orphanage, he was by your side almost all the time.

Whenever one of the other kids messed with you, they'd always end up getting injured in some way because of Cody.

Cody was the only person you were willing to speak to, other than the caretakers. He brought you out of your shell, and made you laugh with his stupid, poor-timed jokes. You even became his nurse, essentially, patching up his wounds whenever he got into fights over you.

The day he was adopted was the worst day of your life, you think. It's the first time you cried since your parents died, and you remember clinging onto him, begging him not to leave you.

It was a pretty embarrassing memory, to be honest.

You weren't as lucky as Cody had been. No family was interested in adopting you, and you ended up aging out of the orphanage. Life never got better for you, even after you left the orphanage.

You didn't have many friends, and your coworkers all tended to avoid you because of how apathetic you were. Truth be told, you didn't have any interest in anything.

Every single day, from the moment Cody had been taken from you, was literal hell in your mind. The loneliness, the constant doubts, the self-loathing, everything. It was so much. Almost too much, at times.

But that all changed when you were walking back to your dingy apartment one night after a late shift. You lived in a fairly unsafe area, but the rent was cheap, so you couldn't complain.

Walking by an alleyway, something caught your attention.

It was cliché, honestly. You didn't care if anyone might have been in trouble, but a morbid curiosity got the better of you when you heard someone crying for help.

Taking a stroll down the alleyway, you reached the end and saw something you truly weren't expecting. A man was laying on the ground, a headwound visible while another man stood over him, fiddling with a needle and some sort of liquid you didn't recognize.

"Would you shut up? There's nobody around to hear you,"

That... that voice...

Your eyes widened, but not because you just witnessed some poor guy get injected with a suspicious liquid.

The injured man starts gasping, and foaming at the mouth. Your eyes meet, and he reaches out to you, croaking for help. You just stand there, watching as the man died.

And when you look up, you meet the gaze of the man who killed him. But you weren't scared. You should be, you knew that, but you weren't.

Cody pulls down the mask he was wearing. He doesn't seem at all surprised to see you, almost as if he knew you had been watching.

"Miss me?" He asks. He was smiling, as if he hadn't just killed someone. So many questions were swirling in your mind, but the only thing you could really focus on was the fact that Cody was here, in front of you.

For the first time in years, you smile.

"Yeah."

HOMICIDAL LIU

When a new family moved in next door with two boys close to your age, your parents had practically forced you to go over and introduce yourself to them, trying to get you to make friends.

You weren't at all interested, but you also didn't want to get in trouble, so once they had settled in, you went with them to be neighborly.

Liu and Jeff were the names of the kids. Liu was the older one, only a few months younger than you, and as mean as it was, you were definitely more interested in hanging out with Liu more than his little brother.

It's not that you hated him or anything like that, but... you were a kid, y'know? The thought of hanging out with someone younger than you, even if only by three years, was weird. It's something you felt guilty about now, as an adult, but it's not like you could change the past.

Besides, you and Liu weren't even friends. Not when you two had first met, at least.

You walked to school with him, and you had a few classes together at school, but you already had your own group of friends, and you just weren't interested in making any new ones.

It wasn't until his brother started to get bullied that you two started to develop a bond. You were one of the few people who didn't tolerate Randy's bullshit, so you never hesitated to stand up for Jeff when you were around.

Liu liked that about you.

When he had gotten arrested after falsely confessing to beating up Randy and his goons, you did your best to protect Jeff while he was gone.

To this day, you can't help but blame yourself for everything that happened. The day Jeff had been lit on fire, you had been stuck at home because of the flu. You still remember the scream of pure agony you heard from his mother next door when she got the call.

There were many things you wish you had done differently back then, but alas. Time marched forward.

As far as you knew, Liu died that night Jeff brutally killed his entire family, and you made sure to visit his grave whenever you had time to spare.

Today was one of those days. The sky was filled with clouds, and you had bought some flowers.

Everyone in town viewed the Woods family in a negative light because of the terror Jeff had caused, and still continues to cause to this day, so their graves don't get taken care of.

You do the best you can, but it's hard to prevent neighborhood kids from vandalizing the grave every other week.

But you were pleasantly surprised to find someone sitting behind Liu's tombstone, smoking a cigarette. You had thought that maybe it was an estranged family member, maybe, but as you approached, you couldn't help but notice that the scarf around their neck was eerily similar to the one Liu had gotten a few weeks before his death.

"Uhm, hello?" You call out, curious as to who this visitor could possibly be.

You did not expect for a gun to be pointed at you.

You blink, staring at the gun for a moment, too bewildered to register the fact that you should probably be scared. Hell, you didn't even have much of a chance to register the gun before you found yourself more distracted by the person holding it.

He looked... eerily familiar.

The scarf. The scars littered across his face, on his neck. They reminded you of the reports you read about the wounds Liu had sustained before dying in the hospital.

It was stupid. There's no way it's actually him. No way. He didn't even seem to recognize you. He had a fucking gun pointing at you, for crying out loud!

This was not Liu.

So why did he feel like him?

"...Liu?"

Your voice caused his gaze to change. The gun lowered slightly, his brows pinching together. And in a split second, it's as if he was a different person entirely, the way his eyes widened in recognition.

His gaze dropped to the gun that he had been pointing at you, and he looked absolutely mortified, dropping it and the cigarette he had been smoking.

"I can explain." He says, but he honestly seemed just as lost as you were.

...It was going to be a long night.

[sunny44]

I’ll love you to the day I die

Pairing: Lando Norris x Girlfriend!reader

Warnings: it’s a sad story guys so be prepared. And English is not my first language.

Summary: It’s yours and Landon’s one-year anniversary.

I look out over Monaco's stunning landscape as the sun slowly rises, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink. The city, usually vibrant with the sound of engines and the glow of lights, is quiet this morning. I adjust my shirt collar and check my watch once more. The flight to London is scheduled to leave in a few hours, and I want to make sure I arrive on time for such an important date.

As I drive to the airport, my thoughts turn to Y/n. I remember how she always laughed at my jokes, how her eyes sparkled when I talked about racing, and how she supported me unconditionally in every challenge. Today, we would be celebrating one year together, and I want to do something special.

At the airport, I meet some fans asking for autographs and photos. I smile and answer them all, but my mind is far away, focused only on the surprise I'm preparing. The flight to London is smooth, and I spend most of the time mentally going over every detail of my plan. I want everything to be perfect.

When I land in London, I take a cab straight to the city center. The streets are busy, as always, but I don't pay any attention. My destination is clear and fixed in my mind. I get out of the cab and walk through the streets until I reach a small flower store. I choose a bouquet of white roses, Y/n's favorite flowers, and go on my way.

As I walk, I mentally revisit every moment I spent with Y/n. Every laugh, every kiss, every promise. Finally, I reach my destination. The entrance to the cemetery is sad and silent, a shocking contrast to the liveliness of the surrounding city.

With slow steps, I enter the cemetery, walking among the gravestones until I find Y/n's. My eyes fill with tears as I see her name engraved in the marble. I kneel down, placing the bouquet of white roses on the grave after cleaning it up with my hands.

"Happy one-year anniversary, my love," I whisper, my voice breaking. "I miss you so much. I promised I'd be here today, and I am. I wanted you to be with me so we could celebrate together. I love you so much."

I stay silent, just staring at something that still seems like a lie. Today was supposed to be one of the happiest days of my life, but it has become one of the worst. Five months ago, I wouldn't have thought I'd be coming to the cemetery to celebrate one year of dating the love of my life, but here I am.

"It's funny how I never thought that out of the two of us you'd be the one to passed away first, and considering what I do for a living it's ironically sad." I sniffle again and feel my heart break more and more.

"You have no idea how much I love you and how much I miss you. How I miss your wet towel on the bed, seeing you walking around the house in your bare feet and the post-it’s you used to put in my suitcase before I traveled to a race you weren't going to."

I stand there in silence for a long time, remembering all the precious moments I shared with Y/n. I think of the first time I saw her, the way our eyes met and I knew, in that instant, that she was going to be special.

I think of all the races where she was there, cheering me on, sending me strength and love. I remember the quiet days when we walked hand in hand through the streets of London, laughing and making plans for the future.

Even in her absence, I feel her presence, and that gives me the strength to carry on. I know that, somehow, she will always be with me, guiding me and loving me, no matter where I am.

And I feel that it’s so unfair that I could only have her in my life for such a short time, cause I know and I feel in my heart that we should’ve had more time together.

Finally, I stand up, wiping away the tears. I take one last look at Y/n's gravestone, promising to come back soon. With a heavy heart, but full of love, I leave the cemetery, determined to honor her memory in every race, in every victory, and in every day of my life.

As I walk back to the city, I think about how Y/n had changed my life. She taught me to cherish every moment, to live intensely and to love deeply. I know that, no matter how difficult it may be, I will continue to live for her, keeping alive the flame of the love we shared. And so, with Y/n's memory engraved in my heart, I prepare to face another day, knowing that she will always be by my side, in spirit.

Bonus Scene!

Landonorris instagram post

Liked by @carlossainz, @olivernorris, @maxverstappen1 and other 917291

@landonorris missing you extra hard today my love. These past few months have been the worst of my life and I still can’t believe that you’re gone.

I love you so much and I’ll make sure to live for the both of us.

Happy one-year anniversary muppet, you’ll be forever my girl 🖤.

@carlossainz I’m really sorry mate, we all miss her so much. Stay strong

@oscarpiastri sending you lots of love Lando

@maxverstappen she was a very special girl, we all will live for her

@charlesleclerc a very special person taken away from us so soon, we’re all here for you mate ❤️

Comments on this post have been limited

[ceoofsammonroe]

Wake the Dead - Sam Monroe Smut

Summary: You meet Sam during his shift at the local video store on a search for something to make you feel alive and decide to drag him to the old cemetery.

Warnings: sexual acts in an open grave, mentions of murder, talk of the dead, handjob (Sam receiving), public sex, fingering (reader receiving), defiling a gravesite, smoking, reader is kinda “manic-pixie-dreamgirl” coded my bad.

Masterlist

Sam Monroe hated his job.

Well, okay, maybe it wasn’t the worst in the world. He could’ve been made to wear a ridiculous uniform and flip burgers at the local diner down the street. Still, he wasn’t exactly thrilled to be restocking the same ten family movies all day every day.

Nobody ever came into the video store for anything interesting. It was always middle-aged moms with their whiny children, asking him where some shit Disney film was located while giving him disapproving glares.

Sure, maybe he always had vulgar music blaring through the speakers while some gory slasher played on the television, but what did they expect? He’d drive a stake through his own eye before he’d be forced to listen to some nonsensical bullshit about princesses and happily ever after.

The new Deftones record was his current pick, the music filling the silence of the vacant store as he leaned against the counter and sorted through the returns.

The excruciating sound of the bell above the door chimed through the grunge rock, making Sam cringe and curse underneath his breath. He didn’t even bother turning around as he mumbled, “We’re closing in five minutes.”

“Guess I’d better get to looking quickly, then,” you said, shrugging and smiling to yourself at the grumpy store clerk. You could only see the back of him, but he piqued your interest.

The sound of your melodic voice made Sam’s ears perk up and he finally turned around. His eyes widened a bit at the sight of you, not expecting to see someone his age. Especially not someone so pretty.

Your eyes traveled over the length of him as he turned to face you. He was cute — in that “I’m a total punk” kind of way.

Sam’s throat felt scratchy as he swallowed, his tongue fiddling with his labret piercing. He quickly turned down the music, giving you a sheepish half-smile.

He cleared his throat uncomfortably as a flush creeped up his neck and said, “Yeah, I guess so. I can help you search for something. We have a pretty big selection, though, so you might have to narrow it down a bit.”

His eyes scanned the length of you, hoping against hope that you wouldn’t ask him for the romance section or something equally as disgusting. He knew you’d never been in this store before, at least not when he’d been working. He definitely would’ve remembered you.

“I’m looking for a good scare,” you said, hooking your thumbs through your belt loops as you grinned at him. “Something to really get your pulse racing, ya know?”

Sam’s eyes lit up with excitement as he beamed at you. You were hot and into horror? He nearly came in his pants right then and there.

“Well, the horror section is right over there,” he said, pointing over to the corner. “You like found footage? I’d recommend that if you wanna get a decent scare. Unscripted, unedited, pretty terrifying.”

“Ah, so you’re a Blair Witch kinda guy, huh?” you asked, your lips quirking up in amusement. “Good to know.”

Sam’s grin grew as he nodded and said, “The Blair Witch Project was groundbreaking for its genre. It really had the entire population convinced that they were watching these kids die right in front of their eyes.” He leaned forward against the counter, trying to play it cool as he added, “I’m Sam, by the way. Sam Monroe.”

“Nice to meet you, Sam Monroe,” you grinned, repeating his full name.

You couldn’t help but notice the soft blush on his face that brought out the bright blue of his eyes. The color nearly matched the vibrant streak in his black hair. He had the whole look going for him — the eyeshadow, the painted nails, the clunky rings.

Sam felt flustered under your gaze, shifting nervously as he asked, “So, you got a favorite horror flick, or is this your first time diving into the abyss?”

You smirked and said, “Ironically, considering your whole ‘what’s your favorite scary movie’ question, I’m a sucker for a good slasher. Scream, to be exact.”

“Scream, huh? Classic. You’ve got good taste,” he said, raising an impressed brow. He pushed off the counter, walking around to stand next to you. “Let me show you some of my favorites, then.” He walked toward the horror section, gesturing for you to follow. “You’ve got your classics like Nightmare on Elm Street and Halloween. Oh, but one of my favorites would have to be Saw. There’s something about the torture and games that just gets me.”

Sam’s hands gestured wildly as he spoke, his excitement evident in his eyes. His heart raced, both from his love of horror and from being so close to you. He searched one of the shelves before deftly flicking one of the cases out and holding it up for you.

“The original Texas Chainsaw Massacre,” he said, presenting it to you. “This one’s something else. Give it a watch. It’ll make your skin crawl.”

You stuffed your hands in your back pockets, shrugging coyly as you stepped closer to him.

“I saw the 25th Anniversary in theaters,” you smirked, beaming proudly.

Sam’s eyes widened and he whistled, impressed.

“Damn, you’re a true horror fan,” he nodded.

He nervously licked his dry lips, trying to think of something to say next.

“So, what do you think? Are you gonna pick up any of these tonight, or should I recommend something else?” Sam asked, his eyes searching your face as he hoped to find interest in his suggestions.

You leaned closer toward him, glancing down at his lips before grinning and reaching around him to grab a movie from the shelf.

Sam’s breath hitched, his eyes flickering down to your lips before following your gaze to the movie you pulled.

You held up a copy of Creep, waving it back and forth.

“Found footage, right?” you winked, turning around to walk back to the counter.

“Found footage, exactly,” he croaked out, releasing a shaky breath. “Good choice.”

He quickly followed after you, going back around the counter to ring you up. His fingers fumbled clumsily on the keyboard as he said, “Your total comes out to $4.50.” He took the money and handed you the bag with the movie inside. “If, uh, if you ever need more recommendations or anything, just let me know. I’ll be around.” He licked his lips, giving you a small smile as he added, “It was nice meeting you.”

You took the bag from him, letting your fingers brush against his as you did. You nodded with a smile and said, “You, too, Sam Monroe.”

You turned around and began walking toward the door, but you stopped short. You shifted back toward him, gazing at him curiously.

You cocked your head and asked, “You wanna get out of here?”

Sam’s eyes widened as his throat went dry. He nodded, vehemently, and said, “Uh, yeah. Sure.” He glanced up at the clock, grinning sheepishly. “We’re technically closed now, anyways.” His grin grew as he stepped away from the counter. “Just give me a second to lock everything up.”

You nodded and walked outside, leaning against the hood of his car as you lit a cigarette. You took a drag and exhaled the smoke into the air, leaning your head back with a sigh.

Sam quickly locked up, the bell above the door jingling as he stepped outside. He caught the sight of you sitting on the hood of his car, cigarette in hand, and thought he must be dreaming.

He walked over, his gaze drawn to your lips as he asked, “You smoke?”

You opened your eyes, gazing up at him as you blew a puff of smoke in his direction.

“No,” you grinned, bringing the cigarette back to your lips to take another drag.

Sam’s lips curved into a grin and he raised a brow as he said, “Liar.”

He reached out, his fingers brushing your face as he took the cigarette from your lips. He brought it to his mouth, taking a long drag before exhaling and handing it back.

“So, what do you want to do?” Sam asked, moving to lean on the hood next to you. “I know a few bars that are still open.”

“Bars are boring, Sam Monroe,” you groaned, dramatically, throwing your head back. You inhaled the smoke again, releasing it in a sigh as you looked up at the full moon. “Why do you think I showed up here tonight?”

Sam chuckled, shaking his head in confusion as he answered, “Because you wanted to rent a horror movie?”

He took another drag from the cigarette, his curious gaze never leaving your face.

“That’s just the surface of it,” you told him, turning your head to face him. “I wanted something that could make me feel alive. I wanted to feel a spike of adrenaline, to get my pulse racing. A horror movie is a quick, easy fix — but a night of spontaneity with a stranger? That’s the ultimate risk to take.”

Sam’s heart thudded in his chest, his mind racing as he stammered, “Y-you want to take a risk with me?” He swallowed, the cigarette forgotten between his fingers. “Where do you want to go?”

His eyes searched yours, trying to gauge your intentions, but the excitement bubbling within him was undeniable.

You grinned, taking the cigarette back from him and drawing in one final breath before putting it out with your foot against the pavement.

“C’mon, Sam Monroe,” you said, grabbing his keys out of his hand and walking to the driver’s side of his car. “I know just the place.”

Sam blinked in a daze as he watched you get into his car. He walked, dumbfounded, to the passenger seat, climbing in as he gazed at you.

“Lead the way,” he said, shrugging as he shook his head with a small laugh.

You flicked on the radio as you pulled out of the parking lot, a low grungy melody playing through the speakers.

“Tell me, Sam Monroe,” you began, reaching over to play with the rings on his fingers, “why do you like horror movies?”

Sam’s breath hitched and he glanced down at his hand. Your fingers felt soft against his skin and he cleared his throat as he glanced back up at the road.

“Horror movies are about more than just gore and jump scares. They’re about the human condition. They’re about fear itself, a primal state, and there’s something so raw and real about that.” He looked over at you a smile tugging at his lips. “The adrenaline, the suspense, the sense of danger…it’s all just an escape for me. A way to feel something real when everything else around me feels so fake.”

“Spoken like a tried and true broody punk,” you grinned, glancing over at him. “I get it, though. Sometimes you’ll do anything just to feel something.”

“I guess so,” he shrugged. “It’s better than feeling nothing, right?” He leaned back in his seat, watching the passing streetlights. “So, what about you? What gets your heart racing?”

“Picking up random strangers from sketchy video stores, obviously,” you joked, trailing your fingers up and down his arm.

Sam smiled, looking away as a blush tinged his cheeks.

“This place you’re taking me to,” he said, glancing back at you, “is it a secret or can I know where we’re going?”

“See for yourself,” you smirked, pulling off the road and parking the car. You turned the lights off and got out, walking around to where Sam stood by the passenger side. “C’mon, this way.”

You grabbed his hand, lacing your fingers through his as you led him through a small trail in the woods. As you walked through the clearing, a grin pulled at your lips at the sight of an old, dark cemetery.

Sam followed, his heart pounding as his eyes darted around the darkness. He swallowed thickly, squeezing your hand a little tighter as he stared up at the rusted gates, warily.

“A cemetery?” Sam questioned, his voice barely above a whisper. He took a deep breath before steeling himself and nodding. “Alright. I’ve never been one to turn down a dare.”

“That’s the spirit,” you grinned, tugging him further inside. You winked at him, pulling him closer to you as you whispered, “Don’t worry. I’ll protect you from the scary ghosts.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” Sam smirked, feeling his heart stutter as he was pulled into you. “So, what do we do in a place like this?”

His eyes took in the graves, the headstones, the darkness encompassing you. He couldn’t help the shiver that ran down his spine as he leaned closer to you, seeking comfort.

You pulled out a small flashlight and turned it on, shining it on the headstones. You saw one that called to you and you drug him towards it, reading the engravings.

Sam followed, his eyes drawn to the flashlight beam. When you stopped at the grave, he crouched down to get a better look.

Mary Hester

1934-1976

“What do you think her story was?” you asked Sam, nudging his shoulder.

“Who knows?” Sam shrugged. “Maybe she was a victim of murder. Or maybe she was the killer,” he mused, a grin playing at his lips. He glanced up at you and asked, “Do you believe in ghosts?”

“Oh, absolutely,” you smirked, leaning forward to dust off the stone. “There’s no way that death is just a done deal, especially if you had unresolved dealings left on earth.”

Sam nodded, listening as he picked at some moss stuck in the writing.

“Besides,” you sighed, staring at the engraving, “if my entire life was reduced to a tiny dash between dates, I’d haunt the shit out of this world, too.”

“Yeah, I can see that,” he said, standing up and brushing off his jeans. “I guess we’ll never know until we reach the other side, huh?”

You laughed and shook your head, pulling him off to venture further through the old graves.

As you walked through the cemetery, occasionally stopping to check out the headstones, you kept spouting off different theories and stories of these lives past lived.

Your eyes widened as you saw a fresh pile of dirt near an open hole, and you pulled Sam toward it.

“Holy shit,” you gaped, looking down at the six-foot rectangular hole in the ground. “It’s a freshly dug grave.”

“That’s…that’s morbid,” Sam shivered, leaning closer as his curiosity got the best of him. “Do you think it’s for a new burial?” His grip tightened on your hand and he glanced around, his eyes flickering between the trees and the graves. “We should probably get out of here.”

“What’s wrong? Scared?” you teased, inching closer toward the grave. You shined your flashlight down into it, seeing nothing but dirt. “Relax, there’s nothing in it.”

“I’m not scared,” he scoffed, though his voice shook as he spoke. “I just don’t wanna get caught trespassing.”

He stepped closer, his eyes following yours as you shined the light into the grave. When he saw it was empty, he let out a sigh of relief and loosened his grip on your hand.

“Let’s go before someone sees us,” Sam said, tugging on your arm.

“Live a little, Sam Monroe,” you laughed, squeezing his hand playfully. “We’re not gonna get caught—”

You stopped mid-sentence, seeing the lights on a police car slowly patrolling the cemetery.

“Shit,” you cursed, smiling amusedly. “Spoke too soon, I guess. Hurry, let’s hide.”

You pulled him toward the vacant grave, crouching down before jumping into the hole.

Sam’s eyes widened, his heart racing wildly as he looked between the grave and the police car. He held his breath, squeezing his eyes shut as he jumped into the grave after you. You turned off the flashlight, bathing the two of you in darkness as you pulled him close to hide.

“Holy fuck,” he whispered. “I can’t believe we just did that. Do you think they’ll search the graves?”

“Not a chance,” you laughed, breathlessly, as you felt your adrenaline pumping. You placed your hand on his chest, grinning as you said, “You feel that? Feel how your heart is racing? It’s crazy. The irony of feeling so alive while standing in an open grave.”

“Yeah, it’s kind of exhilarating,” Sam breathed, his bright eyes never leaving yours. “Now what? Do we wait for the coast to be clear, or do we climb out and hope they don’t see us?”

You gazed up at him, biting your lip as you studied his face in the pale blue moonlight. You tugged on his arm, pulling him closer until his body was pressed against yours.

“Tell me, Sam Monroe,” you said, your voice low and playful. “Have you ever kissed someone in a cemetery?”

“Uh, can’t say I have,” he said, swallowing thickly as he released a shaky breath. His gaze flickered from your eyes to your lips as he added, “I guess there’s a first time for everything, right?”

“Right you are, Sam Monroe,” you grinned, gripping the front of his shirt and pulling him down to you.

You pressed your lips against his in a steady, sure kiss, letting one hand trail up to the back of his head.

Sam’s lips met yours eagerly, his heart pounding in his chest. His hands gripped your waist, pulling you closer to him as the kiss deepened.

He moaned against your lips, the taste of you intoxicating him. He broke the kiss, his breath coming out in heavy pants.

“I think we should climb out of here,” he whispered. “We could get caught down here.”

“That’s half the fun,” you smirked, pushing him back against the wall of dirt and kissing him again.

You moved your hands underneath his shirt, feeling the taught skin of his abdomen as you sucked his bottom lip into your mouth.

Sam groaned, his lips parting as his mind grew hazy with lust. He didn’t protest any further, his body arching into your touch as he kissed you, hungrily.

You moved your hands up to his chest, kissing across his jaw. You nipped at his earlobe before trailing open-mouth kisses down his neck.

“What do you say, Sam Monroe?” you breathed, trailing your tongue along his pulse point. “Wanna defile a grave?”

Sam’s breath hitched and he bit his lip, gripping your hips tighter. He tilted his head back as you kissed his neck, breathing out a soft moan.

“I…I’ll defile a grave for you,” he nodded, swallowing thickly.

His body was trembling with adrenaline and desire. He wanted nothing more than for you to keep touching him, the fear of being caught a distant thought.

“Good,” you grinned, leaning forward to kiss him again.

You let your tongue push past his lips, exploring his mouth as a soft moan sounded from your throat. You pulled him away from the wall of dirt, turning the two of you around so that you were the one pressed against it.

Sam’s moan echoed your own as his hand roamed over your body, his tongue tangling with yours. He stumbled back, allowing you to turn the both of you around, his body following your lead.

“Kinda poetic, isn’t it?” you panted, breaking the kiss to look up at him. “Performing a ritual of fertilization in the place where the dead will be laid to rest?”

“I’m all for some poetic justice tonight,” he breathed, leaning in to claim your lips again.

You could feel your heart pumping as you kissed him, fueling that need for something to make you feel alive.

You bit down on his bottom lip, soothing it with your tongue as you slid your hand down over his jeans to cup his erection.

Sam gasped against your lips, a needy groan sounding from his throat as he pressed his hips into your hand.

You reached down and undid the button of his jeans, lowering the zipper and pushing the material down his thighs. You pulled him out of his boxers, slowly stroking him as you grinned at his impressive size.

Sam whimpered as he felt your soft hand wrap around him, his eyes fluttering shut as he leaned his forehead against yours.

“Oh…” he moaned, dragging his teeth over his piercing as he looked at you with hooded eyes. “I need you.”

“Yeah?” you breathed, squeezing your fist around him as you stroked him faster. You swiped your thumb across his sensitive tip to gather the precum that had beaded there, causing him to hiss.

Sam’s hips bucked into your touch, his body trembling with desire. He gripped your hair, his head spinning with pleasure as he whispered, “Fuck, yes. Please.”

You used your free hand to guide his fingers to the button of your jeans, smirking at him as you continued to touch him. You leaned forward and kissed his neck again, sucking a sensitive spot until it left a deep purple mark against his pale skin.

His fingers fumbled with your jeans as you sucked on his neck, a groan escaping his lips as he tried to undress you.

“Touch me, Sam,” you panted, squeezing him tighter as you let your tongue trail up his neck, stopping to kiss the spot just beneath his ear.

“Anything for you,” he breathed, reaching his hand inside of your underwear to touch you. He moaned as his fingers made contact with your slick folds, brushing his lips against your ear as he whispered, “You’re so wet, fuck.”

You let out a soft moan into his ear, arching into his touch as he teased you. You grabbed his face and turned him back to you, kissing him with fervor as you stroked him.

“I guess cemeteries really do it for me,” you joked, laughing into the kiss.

“Mm, definitely,” he groaned, his hips bucking into your fist.

His fingers slid inside of you as his thumb stroked your clit, his free hand grabbing your leg and hiking it around his waist.

You whimpered, quietly, against his lips — his fingers striking all of the right chords. You used one hand to tug on his hair while the other moved faster over his length.

Sam moaned loudly, his breath hitching as his hips stuttered.

“Shh,” you grinned, looking up at him with a playful glint in your eyes. “You’ll wake the dead.”

“I don’t care about the dead right now,” he breathed, leaning in to kiss your neck as he curled his fingers inside of you.

You tilted your head back, moaning as you rocked your hips against his fingers. You held his head as you stroked him, twisting your fist over his tip each time.

Sam’s eyes rolled back as he moved his fingers faster, repeatedly brushing against that perfect spot inside of you. He buried his face in the crook of your neck as he whispered, “I’m close. I’m so fucking close.”

“Me too,” you whimpered, feeling that knot tightening in the pit of your stomach. The adrenaline was coursing through your veins, your heart racing as you chased the edge together. “Come with me. Let’s make these souls roll in their graves.”

“Fuck, yes, I’m right there,” he panted, moaning against you as he neared the precipice. He flicked his thumb in fast circles against your clit, his voice breaking off into a string of whimpers as his hips bucked. “I’m gonna…fuck.”

You pulled his head back, looking into his eyes as the band finally snapped. You clenched around his fingers just as his release spurted out of him and onto your hand. He voiced a strangled moan as he came, working you through your own high as wave after wave of pleasure washed over you.

You both milked every last drop from each other, your bodies sagging together as you came down.

Sam leaned against you, panting heavily as he rested his forehead against yours. You leaned back against the wall of dirt, grinning lazily as you said, “Well, that was a much better method of getting my heart racing.”

He trailed small kisses up your neck before kissing your lips softly as he whispered, “I’m glad I could make your heart race.”

You smirked up at him, bringing your hand up to your mouth to lick his release off of it. He watched with lust-blown eyes, biting his lip. You grabbed his hand, pulling his fingers out of you and bringing them up to your lips as well. You opened your mouth, sucking around them and moaning at the taste.

You pulled him into another kiss, letting him taste your combined flavor on your tongue. He groaned into your mouth, pulling you close to him.

You broke the kiss, glancing up out of the grave.

“I think the cops are gone now,” you giggled, kissing the tip of his nose.

“Good,” he grinned, laughing softly. “Let’s get out of here.”

He gave you a boost before climbing out as well, the both of you brushing the dirt off and adjusting your clothes. You walked back through the trail in the woods hand in hand, strolling peacefully in the moonlight.

When you got back to his car, you tossed him his keys back with a grin and got into the passenger side. He laced his fingers with yours as he drove back toward the video store, occasionally bringing the back of your hand up to his lips.

“This has got to be the strangest night I’ve ever had,” he laughed, softly.

“You’ll never forget it, though, will you?” you grinned, wiggling your eyebrows at him.

Sam shook his head, smiling as he said, “Never.”

He pulled back into the parking lot of the store, dimly lit by the flickering sign. He parked the car, turning toward you with a tender look.

You leaned forward and softly whispered, “Thanks for making me feel alive, Sam Monroe.”

His eyes fluttered shut as he felt your lips press against his.

“Anytime,” he whispered. “Can I get your name—?”

He opened his eyes, but you were no longer there. He glanced around, frantically, trying to see where you could’ve gone.

It was only then that he realized that his car had been the only one in the parking lot the entire night.

[oaksgrove]

Wrong Graves, Right Heart

pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x female!Reader

synopsis: What starts as Simon’s small act of kindness—leaving flowers on an abandoned grave—takes an unexpected turn when he learns the dark truth about the man buried there. A chance meeting at another grave, however, leads to a connection he never saw coming.

warnings: mentions of death, grief, murder (briefly described, not graphic), guilt, emotional vulnerability. Mostly fluff with humor and a touch of angst.

word count: 1367

a/n: Inspired by a hilarious, and slightly dark, Twitter thread that I stumbled across (this one) and written while listening to Radiohead—so, yeah, heavily inspired. This spiraled into something bigger than I planned, but I loved how it turned out!

Simon visits his mom pretty often. At least once a week when he isn’t on deployment.

He would buy her bouquets and her grave was the most well-taken care of all Southern Cemetery, it frequently resembled a solid third place at Chelsea Flower Show.

But the guy next to her didn’t have much luck. His grave was abandoned and never received flowers, the only readable information about the man was his name and that he died on christmas day at age 33.

There was something unsettling about the headstone that Simon couldn’t shake. Maybe it was the way the chiseled name seemed to fade quicker than the others around it, or the date etched so starkly—Christmas Day. It felt like the grave itself bore a story too heavy for time to carry.

Every week, as Simon walked past that abandoned grave, he couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt. Not for the man, but for what the man represented—a life wasted, forgotten, abandoned by time and loved ones. It was as if Simon could almost hear the echoes of the man’s lonely final days, a voice in the silence that reminded him of his own lost moments, his own griefs that had never been healed. He was doing it for both of them, in a way—he was making up for something he couldn’t even name.

He thought of his mother, resting just a few rows down, her grave adorned with flowers he could no longer place there himself. Maybe, just maybe, this stranger’s memory deserved a similar kindness… when he looked outside the iron gate and saw the pop-up florist and had an idea.

That's how Simon started buying flowers for a deceased man he had never met. And after some time Simon even started adding little touches—fresh soil to the base of the tombstone, cleaning the headstone when the rain left stains, sometimes even rearranging the flowers into a new arrangement.

Simon didn’t know why he cared—it wasn’t like the man would notice. Still, an odd sense of duty settled on him, as though he’d become the custodian of a memory long forsaken.

It was like he was making the world better, one bunch of flowers at a time. He did this for quite some time, but never told it to a soul. He knew it sounded weird, kinda lonely but he came to think about him as a friend. The loneliness of it all gnawed at him. He wondered, was he doing this for the stranger—or for himself, to fill some silent void he couldn’t quite name?

As Simon approached the grave that week, the familiar pang returned, sharper than before. He stood still, the wind teasing the edge of his jacket. The flowers in his hand felt weightier than usual, as though the guilt he carried seeped into their petals.

“What am I doing here?” he whispered, his voice barely audible over the rustling leaves. But no one answered—not the man beneath the stone nor the ghost of his own regrets.

He wondered if there was a hidden connection between them, something that drew Simon to him. Maybe they went to the same school, or maybe both supported Manchester United football club or whatever. So he decided to google his name.

Finger hovering over the enter button, he hesitated. It was silly, he knew, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was about to unearth something better left buried.

When Simon first Googled the man’s name, he found nothing.

But, just like Price says, “Curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back.”

The days had passed, and curiosity gnawed at him until, one night, he gave in. With a few beers in a pub with the 141 clouding his judgment and hours of searching through online records, he finally found a Newspaper article.

His pulse quickened. When the article loaded, Simon froze. The words blurred together at first, the screen swimming in his vision.

‘Family Tragedy Ends in Suicide on Christmas Day.’

“Murdered her…” he whispered aloud, his mouth going dry.

The words clawed their way up his throat, and the details stood out like jagged shards—murdered his wife and in-laws on a Christmas night. His hands shook as he scrolled, the bedroom suddenly feeling too small. The man he’d been honoring wasn’t a victim but a villain.

His wife didn’t leave him flowers because he murdered her on christmas day. After murdering his wife he also killed her parents and then jumped in front of the only train passing in Piccadilly Train Station that christmas night.

His stomach churned as he read on, his hand trembling against the mouse. By the end, he wasn’t sure if the nausea came from the man’s actions or the realization that Simon had spent years tending to the grave of a killer.

Simon’s heart sank while reading all the news, he felt like a terrible person and felt so sorry for his wife and parents. He felt he needed to do something to soothe the guilty and that's the situation he found himself in, he wouldn’t buy them flowers for almost two years but he was going to apologise.

After searching where they were buried he bought them flowers and drove to the Blackley Cemetery.

The smell of damp earth and fresh-cut flowers hung in the air, mingling with the faint rustle of leaves and the occasional distant crow. It was quiet, reverent, a sanctuary—and yet, under it all, a gnawing sadness.

Standing in front of their graves, Simon’s hands trembled. The flowers he’d brought felt heavy, like a physical manifestation of the guilt he hadn’t even known he was carrying.

What right did he have to apologize for a crime he never committed?

The flowers became more than just a gift; they were a ritual. With every petal he placed, Simon felt as though he were piecing together something broken—not the strangers’ lives, but perhaps his own. And when he laid that last bouquet at the foot of the victims’ graves, it was less an offering and more an apology whispered through the blooms.

Kneeling before the graves, Simon fumbled with the bouquet, his fingers clumsy and unsure. He cleared his throat, but his voice cracked anyway. ‘I’m sorry,’ he whispered, the words escaping like a confession.

The headstones didn’t respond, their silence deafening, but Simon kept going. ‘I didn’t know. I should’ve…’ His words trailed off, swallowed by the damp air, leaving only the faint rustle of trees to answer him and a nudge on his shoulder.

‘Hi,’ she said, her voice calm but mildly woolly. ‘Why are you leaving flowers for my aunt and grandparents?’

Simon was startled. He turned, finding a woman standing a few feet away, arms crossed but her expression more puzzled than angry. His throat tightened. ‘I, uh… it’s complicated,’ he stammered, his face flushing under her steady gaze

Her eyes were full of something he couldn’t place—curiosity, disbelief, maybe even a little amusement. The words he’d rehearsed in his mind felt silly now, but he said them anyway, rambling about flowers and apologies.

Simon shifted, glancing from her face to the graves. “It’s… a long story, one I’m not even sure makes sense.”

She tilted her head, lips quirking into a half-smile. “You know, weird as it is, those are usually the best stories. So, how about you tell me over coffee?” Her face softened, the tension easing as he listens, there was no judgment, only a quiet understanding that unsettled Simon more than anything.

He blinked, surprised. ‘I, uh… yeah. I’d like that.’

As they walked away from the cemetery, the weight in Simon’s chest lightened. Maybe it was the fresh air, or maybe it was the odd sense of peace that seemed to hang between them now. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but something had shifted. The ache in his chest had faded, replaced by a soft, unfamiliar warmth. It was as if, in trying to make the world a little better for a stranger, he’d found a piece of something he’d been missing too.

part 2

[magnetokisser]

here, on earth

summary: after years of grieving your supposedly dead brother, he comes back. now you're wondering if anything you've worked for in his name was for nothing.

pairing(s): none other than family relations

word count: 3k

warnings: reader is morally ambiguous if u squint, i think a few mentions of death, no beta we die like jason!

author's note: go read part one pls, this is a second part to 500 gigawatts of the power of god. there will be a third and final part to this !! ^_^

1 2 3

“my favorite gargoyle, huh?” 

it was like your entire world had stopped upon hearing those words. 

spinning around, you were met with someone you had never seen or heard of before. donning a red helmet, the man seemed to be at least 6’2, wearing a brown leather jacket and some sort of armor. if anything, he kinda reminded you of a red version of black mask. “who.. who are you?” you questioned, jumping up from the gargoyle and landing a few feet away from the man. he pushed out a laugh, his head tilting ever so slightly. “who knows.” he said, jumping away. frowning, you ran to the edge of the building.. seeing nothing. sighing, you decided to head back to the batcave to see if your father knew anything about this mystery man. 

upon returning, you found alfred and bruce infant of the batcomputer in a seemingly deep conversation. “dad?” you called out, taking your cowl off as you slowly approached them. bruce was quick to face you, the slightest look of relief flashing on his face. “what are you doing here?” he asked, standing up. alfred continued looking at the computer, deep in thought. “i was in the area and had a run in with some guy? thought you might have known who he was?” you asked, meeting him halfway. he let out a deep exhale, looking back at the bat computer with a look of guilt. “i’m assuming he had a red helmet on?” he asked, his voice gruff with a tinge of weariness. furrowing your brows, you followed him as he plopped down in the chair. the thing sounded like it was about to break. poor chair. 

"um, yeah?" you said, rubbing the back of your neck. you watched as bruce pulled up multiple pictures of this fire hydrant man, and it seems he  also had a run in with him. "do you have any idea of who he is?" you questioned, feeling like a broken record. "maybe. i'm going to see if i can run his voice modulator through a few programs. see if i can pull out his real voice." he grumbled, hunching over. "fix your posture. i'll go do a sweep, okay?" you say, patting his back before putting your cowl back on. you were off before he could say anything else.

you had been patrolling for hours. you didn't know what exactly you were looking for- other than the man in the red helmet. looking around, you noticed you were near gotham cemetery. the last time you had been here, you decided to actually start living instead of watching yourself rot away. grappling down, you made your way into the graveyard, walking through the ever so familiar dead grass. a place of such beauty and meaning, reduced to a place of pure despair. and that is the only word you could use to describe what you felt when you found yourself in front of your little brothers grave. 

the once solemnly beautiful tombstone was obstructed, but once you took a closer look, you realized it wasn't in the way that a tombstone would typically be obstructed. bruce had put in sensors to stop anyone from breaking in and stealing anything from inside the grave. not if something broke out. spinning around, you checked the area around you. there was no way he could be alive— he was supposed to be burnt to a crisp, beaten to a pulp. so how was he alive?? 

it was like your whole world was lit on fire. everything you had worked for up until now, gone. if he was alive.. what had you been working for up until now? everything felt numb. stumbling backwards, you started to make your way back to blüdhaven. this was beyond you. of course, as always, there was something your father wasn’t telling you. you didn’t think he already knew jason was alive, but you definitely knew that he knew how he was brought back to life— be it league business, or something more sinister.

kori and dick hadn’t come home yet— they were still off planet. you made your way into your room, stripping yourself of your batgirl suit and changing into an oversized hoodie before falling into bed. this situation was far beyond you. you fell asleep that night with memories and questions plaguing your mind.

you didn’t get much sleep. thoughts and memories of jason swirled through your head, plaguing your dreams and keeping you up most of the night. you had so many and too many questions. why was he alive? how was he alive? when did he come back to life? if you kept thinking about it, you’d be sick. you finally fell asleep around 3 in the morning, and you didn’t sleep too well.

the next morning, you found yourself thinking to the past. despite you joining into some of his little pranks and stunts, bruce never loved jason like he should. that was your father’s biggest feat. he collected kids like they were colorful rocks that he found fascinating. you came right before the first boy wonder— the golden boy, dick grayson. you were still younger than him, but you had more experience with bruce— he was a teen dad at the time, and you were absolutely fascinated with him. he had found a little girl wandering the streets of gotham, right around the same time the caped crusader started running the streets of gotham. the moment he saw your wide, innocent eyes, he gave in. what little heart he had left, it melted. two years later came the aforementioned golden boy, and then he became robin. jason came around 5 or 6 years after that.. and then it was history. 

you thought that after jason’s death, bruce would stop with his need for a child army. he didn’t think to involve you in his nightly war against crime, but that didn’t mean he stopped. he got more violent, but never broke his most important rule. you didn’t want to ask why he wouldn’t kill the joker; it wasn’t an argument worth getting into. but all you knew was that, in his own way, bruce missed jason. but then came cassandra cain. her and barbara were close, and she became batgirl for a time before you did, but you were never exceedingly close with her. you kept it short, because you didn’t want to create any bonds when you had been considering joining jason. 

you laid in bed, thinking about.. well, everything. you wondered how dick would react to the news of jason possibly being alive. would he react harshly? you didn’t know— no, you didn’t want to know. the two weren’t nearly as close as you and jason had been, but dick still loved him like a brother. the next few days were spent in bed, with you wallowing in a pit of your dying self righteousness. dick and kori came home to the apartment mainly untouched, save for haley’s food and water bowl. you only ever got up to shower, take haley out, and change his bowls. you tried to eat, but in you felt like you shouldn’t.  

“i smell an increasing amount of sadness and self-pity coming from this room!” your older brother sang, barging into the room without knocking. haley bolted in, running in circles around the room. you huffed, rolling onto your back to look at dick. you couldn’t imagine how bad you looked right now. “okay, what happened while we were gone?” he frowned, sitting on the edge of your bed, setting. the dog down on it. 

you were silent for a few moments, unsure of how you would tell dick that jason was alive. would he believe you? what if he already knew? he was the only one who wasn’t kept on a strict need to know basis, so it wouldn’t surprise you. taking a deep breath, you swallowed the lump in your throat before looking at the overly happy man next to you. you supposed you would go to hell for ruining his never-ending joyful mood. 

“jason is alive.” you murmured, your voice cracking as you spoke.

you could see dick visibly flinch, and he looked at you with wide eyes. so he didn’t know. now you wish you weren’t the one to break the news to him. “what?” he asked, running a hand over his face. you repeat yourself, willing yourself to sit up and scoot next to him. “i went to his grave. it looked like someone broke out. to make matters worse, there’s some guy running around that looks like a walking, talking fire hydrant.” you huffed, rolling your eyes. “do you think..” he trailed off, turning his head towards you. “i don’t know. maybe. he’s taller and bigger than i remember jason being, but..” you sighed, looking down at your hands. “but?” he asked, furrowing his brows. “i was in gotham. sitting on jason’s stupid ugly gargoyle. fire hydrant walked up to me and said that was his favorite gargoyle. i asked who he was, and then he said ‘who knows’!” you grumbled, raising your hands to rub your temples. 

dick sighed, slumping over. “do you think it’s him? i mean, that could be anybody’s favorite gargoyle.” he said, resting his chin on his hand. you shrugged, and fell back on your bed. “should we ask? or is that too straightforward. would he even answer?” you rambled, frowning. god, you felt bad. this was the most silent you’d ever seen him. dick shrugged, his gaze falling on the floor. “i wouldn’t be surprised. it’s been well over five years; someone could have taken him to a lazarus pit not long after he died.” he explained, causing your brows to furrow. “the what pit?” you asked, looking at him with confusion painted on your face. “it doesn’t surprise me at all that you don’t know about it. the league of assassins has this pit— the lazarus pit— that can bring people back to life. if it’s him, and he’s grown, then it was one hundred percent a lazarus pit that brought him back.” he explained, shaking his head.

you hummed, rubbing your hands over your face. “maybe i can draw him out.” you spoke, looking over at your older brother. your eyes met, his blue eyes piercing into yours. “you? draw him out? you who does the bare minimum?” he laughed, a grin blooming over his face. you rolled your eyes, nudging him with your elbow. “if he tries to fight me, i’ll call. or i’ll run. one or the other,” you smiled, standing up and stretching. 

dick eventually left, and you left late into the night. bruce was probably hunting for jason, given the fact that he’s already broken batman’s form of the golden rule. the no kill rule was fundamental in bruce’s fight against crime— literally. while he said it was so he didn’t turn into those he fought against, you knew it was because if he started, he wouldn’t stop. you made your way into the dark streets of gotham, the streetlights adding a dim hue against the concrete of the sidewalks. you had been lucky up until now— gotham nights had been quiet for a bit. but alas, it was gotham city. when could the city ever be quiet? 

you made your way to the building you had last seen jason at, seeing a figure sitting on the very gargoyle you had been days before. suddenly, you were frozen. your feet were planted in place, and you found yourself being too nervous to approach him. do you call him by his name, or red hood? maybe you should call him by his name. or maybe the nickname? you didn’t know, and your thoughts were soon interrupted by him turning around to face you. 

“jason?” you called out, your voice wavering ever so slightly. he turned back around, and you slowly approached him from behind before sitting down on the edge of the building. it was a serene night, despite the occasional sound of gunshots and screams. it was silent, until a voice rang out. “it looks like you haven’t aged at all,” he said, his voice masked by a modulator. this made you frown, but at least he was talking to you. at least it was jason. “you can barely see what i look like. i can barely see what you look like.” you said, shaking your head and sighing. it was silent for a while before you finally decided to speak up again. “do you wanna talk about it?” you asked, bringing your knees to your chest and hugging them. you watched as he leaned back, his head resting against the wall behind him. while you couldn’t see anything of his features other than how he’d grown, you could see how tired he was. you wondered if he was angry that he was brought back to life. ultimately, you didn’t know how to feel about his return at all.

“why didn’t he kill him?” jason asked, turning to look at you once more. you wondered where he got the helmet from. you weren’t a fan. “you know why—“ you started, only for him to cut you off mid sentence. “don’t give me that bullshit, bluebird. he'd rather protect his enemies more than his own children, and you know that.” he growled, crossing his arms. frowning, you were quick to object. sure, the rule got in the way of getting whatever revenge jason was owed, but it was still apart of his morals. to be honest, you didn’t know where your own morals stood in all of this. “you know that’s not true. you should have seen him after you died! he was hurting, we all were..” you said, leaning to look at his helmet more properly. you wondered what he looked like now, under the helmet. 

you could hear him scoff, and you knew this conversation was going nowhere. "where have you been?" you asked, deciding to drop the topic for right now. he took a minute to reply, and you could tell that you might’ve just hit a nerve. “the league of assassins, hunting black mask, etcetera.” he spoke, making you furrow your brows for the umpteenth time that night. he cut you off before you could even say anything, holding up a finger. “don’t even think about asking.” he huffed, standing up. even on the gargoyle, he was much taller than you were. “where are you going?” you asked, standing up as he climbed onto the roof with you. he tilted his head, and you began to follow behind him. “you don’t live with bruce anymore.” he hummed, the voice modulator making it sound more like a wheeze. “no. i moved in with dick and his girlfriend.” you explained, looking up at him as you fell into step with one another. “babs?” he asked, sounding surprised. he was probably shocked that dick was able to stay chained to someone for so long to move in with them. “no, kori. you know, starfire?” you said, watching as he dropped down from the building. you never knew how they did that all the time. didn’t their legs hurt? you frowned, deciding to go the safe route and slide down the latter instead. “where are we going?” you asked, following him down the alleyway. “i’m taking you home. and i better not see you on the streets again.” he grumbled, walking towards a motorcycle. “don’t say it like that. and you know i can take care of my self– i’m the older one here.” you said, rolling your eyes. “will you at least say hello to dick? he misses you.” you said, climbing onto the motorcycle behind him. you could hear him sigh before practically throwing a helmet at you, which you reluctantly put on. you didn’t need one– you survived dick’s horrendous driving.

there wasn’t much more said on the ride home. you paid more attention to the city flying past you, and the blow of the wind as jason swerved through the night streets of gotham and into blüdhaven. he stopped in another alleyway, and you got off the bike. 

“you’ll come back,” you spoke. it wasn’t a question. “someone has to make sure you and dickhead don’t kill yourselves.” he chuckled, though it was a bit empty. hesitating, you moved towards him and wrapped your arms around his neck, hugging him gently. it was the first time in years that you felt mildly okay, even though nothing was really okay. “i love you, jaybird.” you sighed, feeling him pat your back. you knew this was the best you were going to get for now, so you pulled away, giving him a half assed smile. “and if you don’t come back, i’ll send someone to vandalize your grave or something.” you threatened, but he knew it was empty. for the most part. “stay safe.” he said, the engine of the motorcycle revving before he sped off. your shoulders dropped, and you made your way back to dick and kori’s place– home.

when you got back, kori bombarded you with questions. you hadn’t seen her since they left on that mission, since she was checking in on the titans when they got back. you explained everything to her, and she was a bit upset with dick since he hadn’t told her earlier, which was reasonable. the three of you ended up watching a movie before kori dragged you away under the premise of you needing beauty sleep. this was her code for a girl’s day tomorrow. 

that night had been the first night in ages that you had actually slept well. of course, you kept thinking about jason, but you didn’t have any nightmares, and you didn’t have this looming sense of doom hanging over your head when you woke up the next morning. everything was going to be okay. you had people around you that loved you, and despite the state of the city and your lives at the moment, you wouldn't ask to be anywhere else. well, that’s a lie. smallville was looking a lot better than gotham, but that was beside the point. 

you were going to be okay.

[ecc-poetry]

BALANCE THE PARTY

social justice barbarian Never met a nazi they wouldn't punch. Never met a cop they wouldn't call a nazi. Treats the soft animal of their body like a lance to the heart of a tyrant. Their anger is a gift from God– it transubstantiates.

social justice necromancer Reads her history. Says their names. Goes through cemeteries leaving flowers, grave-borrowing tactics. Coaxes the spirits from their beds to let them dance; we realize we have always been beautiful.

social justice rogue Unplucks the landlord's tapestries at night. She covers her face, she code-names, wipes the prints from her hand after shaking. She's a lot. A blade in the dark that daylight can't soften. She hums a mantra called mission; it's all the warning you'll get.

social justice bard Makes his sincerity a lute and plucks fingers raw upon it. Has brass knuckles on the inside of his throat. Knows what to say to soothe the scared guy sleeping rough, to make the officer laugh instead of shove.

social justice druid Gives you grace and space to grow. Makes a weird balm to calm your hurts. Turns into a panther once a day dispensing courage; turns into a dove once a day dispensing peace. Serves the world from the half-empty vessel in their heart.

social justice warlock Sold her soul to do DEI for a Fortune 500 company. Walks each day through thicketed razors, carving footholds in a hill of glass. The job takes its pint of blood so slowly, it is possible to believe she doesn't feel it.

social justice paladin Always knows the words. Is afraid of what will happen if they forget them. It's not an excuse, but it is sandpaper, truths nailed into the shoebeds. They're implacable from the outside. They can't believe I would love them without their fury.

social justice cleric The people tell her, "Your mouth ruined our movement. You suffer in silence all the time–what's one more?" She believes in a love whose demands cut friends and enemies alike. She cleanses, sad surgeon. She is martyred twice. From the ground where her tears fall, a perfect flower grows.

social justice warforged Has a fuckin' truck!!! He rolls up to mutual aid and the people rejoice at his truck. He is become a mover of things, a Christ-bearer: mattresses and gasoline, the girl who needs a ride across the state. She says bless you, bless your truck, and his heart swells. He never knew he could be so needed.

social justice giant crab Strength +1. Intelligence -5. She is a crab. She has 13 hit points and claws for hands– but she can breathe water and air. She knows what the surface looks like from underneath. She carries wisdom in her crab body that the arc of the universe will always bend to rediscover. Don't you get it? That we all have gifts to give?

-elisa chavez

[katemoneymartinsgf]

Paige Bueckers x Grieving Reader

— — — — —

a/n: what an intresting month this is. missed you guys. this is rushed and not proof read. enjoy

—————

The highway stretched out in front of you, the faint glow of headlights reflecting off the after-rain pavement. You hadn’t bothered changing out of your practice clothes—there wasn’t any point. The damp scent of chlorine still clung to your skin, and the sharp sting of it in your eyes mixed with the tears you tried to blink away.

It wasn’t just a bad practice. It was everything—school, work, and the constant weight of this month pressing down on you like you were slowly being buried alive. A year. One year without her, and somehow it didn’t feel any less raw.

You scrubbed at your eyes, but it didn’t help. The chlorine, the tears—it all burned the same. You could still hear your coach’s voice, the criticism ringing in your ears, but that wasn’t what had pushed you over the edge. It was the looks from your teammates, the cautious, sidelong glances, like they were afraid to say the wrong thing. They all acted like you were on the verge of breaking, like one wrong word would be enough to send you spiraling. And maybe you were.

But that didn’t make it easier. It didn’t make it less infuriating. If anything, their pity—the eggshells they walked on around you—made everything worse. You gripped the steering wheel harder, trying to steady your breathing, but the anger simmering inside you wouldn’t settle.

Everyone expected you to fall apart. And they were waiting for it. Every word, every interaction felt like they were tiptoeing around the inevitable. But they didn’t understand. You weren’t fragile, and you didn’t want their sympathy. You just wanted... her.

The landmarks on the drive blurred by as your chest tightened, the familiar ache spreading. The cemetery was up ahead, the place you’d avoided for the past year because facing it felt impossible. But there was no avoiding it today. No avoiding the reminder that the one person who understood—who always knew what to say—was gone.

The lump in your throat swelled again, and this time, you didn’t try to fight it. You were too tired of pretending everything was fine. Too tired of holding it all in. As you wiped your face with the back of your hand, the tears fell faster, mixing with the chlorine, and for a moment, it all blurred together—the grief, the anger, the exhaustion. You blinked against the burn and kept driving.

The car slowed as you turned into the familiar entrance, the gravel crunching under your tires louder than it should have been in the stillness of the evening. The sky had turned a bruised shade of gray, the clouds heavy with the promise of rain, but you barely noticed. Everything outside felt muted—like the world was distant, while the storm inside you raged on.

You pulled up to the far corner of the cemetery, parking beneath the old oak tree that stood like a silent sentinel over her grave. For a moment, you just sat there, hands still gripping the wheel, the engine ticking softly as it cooled. You didn’t want to move. Didn’t want to face what you’d been avoiding for months. But you knew you couldn’t keep running.

With a deep breath that felt like it caught halfway up your throat, you turned off the car and stepped out. The air was cooler than you expected, the wind carrying the faint scent of rain and freshly cut grass. You stuffed your hands in your jacket pockets as you started walking, your legs heavy like they didn’t belong to you.

There it was—her headstone, the one you hadn’t visited since the funeral. It felt surreal, seeing her name carved in stone, like a part of you was still waiting for her to call, to text, to be standing there at practice with that knowing look she always gave you.

You stopped a few feet away, unsure of what to do or what to say. The anger, the frustration, the grief—it all came crashing back in one suffocating wave. How could she be gone? How had it been a year already? The lump in your throat returned, and this time you couldn’t hold back the sob that escaped.

You dropped to your knees, the grass cold and damp beneath you. It wasn’t fair. None of this was fair. She should be here. She should be the one telling you to keep it together, the one who always knew what you needed before you even said it.

You wiped at your eyes again, but it was no use. The tears kept coming, and the chlorine still stung, and the world felt so heavy it was a wonder you could breathe at all.

You didn’t know how long you’d been sitting there. Time didn’t seem to exist anymore—just the silence, the cold, and the weight of everything you’d been carrying. Your eyes burned, but you couldn’t stop the tears from falling, each one sliding down your face as you stared at the headstone in front of you.

There were no thoughts, no words left. Just the steady stream of tears, falling for her, for everything you’d lost. It was like your body was grieving for you, crying out what your mind couldn’t process anymore.

You didn’t hear the soft footsteps behind you. It wasn’t until a warm presence settled next to you, the faint rustle of a blanket being draped over your shoulders, that you even realized Paige was there. She didn’t say anything at first. She never did in moments like this. Just her quiet, steady comfort, the way she was always there, letting you have the space you needed.

A hoodie appeared in your lap, and when you glanced up, you saw she had a few snacks in her hand too—your favorites. The simple gesture almost made you laugh, but the lump in your throat was too big. You wiped at your face again, trying to compose yourself.

“I’m fine,” you whispered, your voice rough from the crying. “It’s all good... I just need a second.” It was the same thing you always said after nights like this, when you’d cry in her arms and then pull yourself back together like nothing had happened. Paige didn’t push; she never did.

But this time, it wasn’t enough. You knew it wasn’t enough. Something about sitting here, staring at the cold stone where her name was etched, made the truth impossible to hold in any longer.

“I’m not fine P.” The words came out shakier than you wanted, barely above a whisper, but once they were out, you couldn’t stop. “I’m not fine at all.”

She shifted beside you, her quiet presence grounding you as you tried to breathe through the sobs building in your chest. “It’s been so hard without her,” you choked out, your hands trembling as they gripped the edge of the blanket. “Nobody understands… nobody knows what it was like to lose her because they didn’t… they didn’t know her like I did. I know it’s selfish to say but they didn’t”

Paige didn’t say anything, but you felt her hand gently slide over yours, her thumb brushing against your knuckles in that soothing way she always did.

“She was everything,” you continued, your voice breaking now. “I don’t know how to be a real person without her. It’s like… I’m not me anymore. I haven’t been doing good in school , not even in polo—” You shook your head, trying to swallow the wave of emotion rising in your chest. “I haven’t been good this year. I keep trying to play for her, but getting into the pool every day without her there… it hurts. I feel like I’m letting her down because I’m not as good, but I don’t know how to do it without her. I just feel… empty.”

You broke then, the sobs tearing through you as you buried your face in your hands. Paige pulled you closer, her arms wrapping around you, and for the first time, you let yourself fall apart completely. No more holding back, no more pretending. Just raw, aching grief pouring out of you.

She held you tightly as your body trembled against her, her arms wrapped around you like a shield from the world. She didn’t rush you, didn’t try to pull you out of the wave of emotions crashing over you. She was just there—steady, warm, and patient, like always.

When your sobs began to quiet and your breathing slowed, she shifted slightly, just enough to lean back and look at you. Her hands gently brushed the hair away from your tear-streaked face. “Talk to me,” she whispered softly. “Tell me about her . I want to know more… how she was different. What made her so special to you baby”

Her voice was calm, careful—never pressing, but just enough to let you know she wanted to listen, wanted to understand. You had been so closed off for so long when it came to her. Paige had seen you break down before, but you rarely let her into the deeper parts of that grief.

For a long moment, you couldn’t find the words. Your mind raced with memories, so many moments that felt too precious to even describe. But you owed it to her—to your best friend—to try. And maybe… maybe you owed it to yourself too.

“She was just… everything.” Your voice was shaky, but Paige’s hands, gently stroking your back, helped steady you. “She had this way of making everyone around her feel important, like… you were the only one in the room that mattered. But she never needed the attention herself. She just… gave.”

Tears brimmed in your eyes again, but this time, they felt different. They weren’t just tears of grief—they were tears of gratitude too, for the memories you held so dear. “I remember the way she always encouraged me. No matter how bad my practice was, she’d be right there, cheering me on, telling me how much she believed in me. It made everything else fade away. And now…” Your voice faltered again, but you pressed on, desperate to share this part of her with Paige.

“She would have loved you,” you said suddenly, the words spilling out like a revelation. “She would have thought you were the coolest person ever. She would have been so proud of me for being with you.”

Paige’s expression softened, and you saw something flicker in her eyes—something deep, something understanding. “I’m eternally indebted to her, then,” she replied, her voice steady. “For making you who you are. For helping me fall in love with you.”

The weight of those words hung between you like a bridge, connecting the past and present, your shared grief and your shared love. You took a shaky breath, trying to gather your emotions.

“Paige, I’m scared,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “I feel broken. Like I’m not whole anymore. How do I live without her?”

Paige squeezed your hands, her eyes locking onto yours with a fierce intensity. “You’re not broken,” she said firmly, her voice low and soothing. “You’re grieving. It’s okay to feel that way. But you’re not alone. You have me. And I’m not going anywhere.”

You nodded slowly, feeling the truth in her words, even if the path ahead felt daunting. “It just hurts so much.”

“I know baby” She leaned closer, her forehead resting against yours. “But you don’t have to carry it alone. You can share it with me, we’ll find a way to carry her memory with us.”

You let the warmth of her words seep in, wrapping around your heart like a comforting embrace. For the first time in a long while, you felt a flicker of hope, a glimpse of light breaking through the darkness that had felt so all-consuming.

“I don’t want to forget her,” you whispered, the tears still lingering in your eyes. “I want to keep her memory alive, but I don’t know how.”

“By talking about her, like you just did,” Paige said softly. “By remembering the good times, the way she made you feel, and how she shaped who you are. You can keep that part of her with you forever.”

The sky above began to darken, and a light drizzle started, but you didn’t mind. The cool rain felt refreshing, a cleansing reminder that even in the midst of grief, there could be healing. You felt her shift beside you, and before you could fully register what was happening, she leaned in, pressing her lips softly against yours.

The kiss was gentle at first, almost tentative, but it held a depth of feeling that resonated deep within you. It was a promise—a vow that no matter how heavy the grief felt, you weren’t alone. You pulled back, breathless, and couldn’t help but let out a shaky laugh, your heart swelling with a mix of emotions.

“Wow,” you said, a teasing smile breaking through the remnants of your tears. “What was that for?”

“Just wanted to remind you,” Paige replied, her eyes sparkling, “that it’s okay to feel everything. And that I’m here, no matter what.”

You smiled back, warmth flooding your chest. “Okay, good, because I’m not really sure how to be a person without her. And I’m still figuring that out.”

Paige chuckled lightly, her fingers brushing against your cheek. “Well, we’ll figure it out together. But first, how about we grab those snacks I brought? I’m pretty sure I have your favorite.”

You nodded, feeling lighter than you had in what felt like ages. As you stood up, you let the blanket slip from your shoulders, a sense of renewal washing over you. The sky might still be dark, but you could see a flicker of light breaking through, just enough to guide you forward.

And for the first time in a long time, you felt like you could breathe again.

As the drizzle began to fall in earnest, you and Paige shared a quiet moment, gazing out at the sky. You felt an unspoken understanding between you, a bond forged in shared grief and love. And just as you were about to turn back to the car, a sudden thought crossed your mind, prompting a mischievous grin.

“Paige,” you said, laughter dancing in your voice, “are you sure those snacks are worth braving the rain for?”

She rolled her eyes playfully, smirking back at you. “rain never stopped me baby.” she said with a cockiness that was soon erased by the sound of thunder and her sprinting back to your side

you burst into laughter, the sound echoing through the cemetery, mingling with the sound of the rain as you led her back to the car.

“i think you being afraid of thunder is the silliest thing” you teased squeezing her hand.

“i’m literally not, everyone gets startled by a loud noise hello.” “yeah well not everyone runs away like that” you say bringing your hands up and planting a kiss to hers. Hand in hand you walked back to the car, feeling lighter, and for the first time in a long while, ready to face whatever came next.

—-

[thelonestarinthesky]

¹. ....ᵃⁿᵈ ˢʰᵉ ⁱˢ

⁺₊✦₊　

pairing: senku x f!reader

chapter 1 of 2/2-i.senku series

a/n: the next chapters are gonna be flashbacks until the story is back to the present!!

⁺₊✦₊　　

Standing in the village cemetery among the gravestones, Ruri and Senku shared a moment of quiet reflection. "I wanted to ask; the reason you requested a divorce immediately after becoming chief is that you already have someone waiting for you, right?" she asked softly.

"She was mentioned in the hundredth tale," Senku replied, his hand twitching at the thought. "Correct?" Ruri's silence answered this.

"That's right. I'm not surprised my father included her in the hundredth tale; he was rather fond of her." Ruri noticed how tense he became at the mention of this girl.

"... You didn't say a word about her when I became chief. The rules stated that to participate in the Grand Bout, you needed to be over 14 and unmarried," he pointed out.

The blonde girl smiled knowingly. "I thought it was best to leave out that small detail," she chuckled, glancing up at the stars. "... That you already have a wife."

Senku looked at her in disbelief. "I don't—" He paused, then sighed. "... Yes, I have a wife," he admitted, though it sounded forced. "You mentioned that she's in the hundredth tale; what is her story?"

"Sleeping Beauty," Ruri began, prompting a visible cringe from Senku. 'Of course, my old man would think of something like that,' he thought.

"Before the princess became Sleeping Beauty, she lived a peaceful life. She had family, friends, and a lover. But at the age of 16, her health deteriorated. She was supposed to get better, but one day, she fell asleep and never woke up. To this day, she remains in that deep slumber, waiting for her lover," Ruri concluded. "This story is exactly meant to teach survival skills, don't ignore a hit to your head even if you think it's nothing serious because it could be more serious in the end."

A silence settled between them before Senku looked up at the night sky, a breeze swaying them slightly. "If it's alright with you, I'd like to keep this between us."

"Of course," the priestess replied, smiling softly. "If that's what you want."

"[Name]—that's what her name is. She's my lover. We've known each other since childhood, long before the world turned to stone. Love is illogical, yet..."

His eyes began to well up with tears, but he blinked them away. "I'm going to bring her back once the Kingdom of Science is stable enough for her," he said, determination in his voice, grinning. "That's the least I can do for her."

"I look forward to meeting her," Ruri said with a warm smile. "You'll love her; I'm a billion percent sure," Senku added quietly.

__________

"Come on, Senku. We're going to see an old friend of mine," Byakuya urged as he tried to coax a young Senku out of his room. "You've been reading all day. My friend has a daughter your age!"

Somehow, Byakuya managed to get Senku out of the house and into his car. They drove off and soon arrived at a large gated mansion, where Senku saw men unloading furniture from trucks.

"Old man, is your friend loaded?" Senku asked, curiosity piqued.

"He's the CEO of a company that makes advanced machines." This caught Senku's interest significantly. Byakuya was let in by the guard at the gates, and he parked the car. As soon as the car was turned off, Senku bolted out.

The little boy ran over to where a man stood, giving orders to the workers carrying out furniture. "Where are the machines?!" Senku exclaimed, excitement bubbling over as Byakuya hurried behind him.

"Sorry, friend. This is Senku, my son," Byakuya said, guiding Senku to stop being rude and properly introduce himself. "This is the little guy I've been talking about. He's a year younger than your daughter, so we should be able to arrange a playdate."

"No way," Senku replied bluntly. "I don't want a stupid playdate. I want to see the machines you make." The red-eyed boy said to the man, who smiled down at him, intrigued.

"He's just as you described, Byakuya," the man chuckled, patting Senku on the head. "My daughter will definitely get along with him. Young man, if you want to see those machines, I’ll make you a deal."

Senku pouted at this. "A playdate with my adorable daughter. I think it would benefit you if he got along with the heir to my company."

"Deal," the green-haired boy said, a bit annoyed, but willing to do anything to see how those machines worked.

"...I don't think you should be encouraging him," Byakuya remarked, sweat dripping down his forehead as he noted Senku's determined expression.

"One playdate, and that's it," the little boy declared, grinning up at the man, who simply smiled back. Senku couldn't help but think how easy this was going to be; soon, he'd have access to the most advanced technology Japan had to offer. With his hands on his hips and a proud grin on his face, he said, "Alright, where's the little brat? I need to meet her."

masterlist taglist- @frootloopscos

if you want to be in the taglist, please comment on the series Masterlist so I can keep track!!

[shurisneakers]

unsolved (iii)

Summary: Bucky doesn't even believe in the paranormal. So who the hell thought it was a good idea to stick him in a series about everything haunted for the internet's amusement? With his loose-canon of a teammate who has no concept of subtlety or shits left to give, to make things even worse. (Buzzfeed unsolved AU)

Warnings: swearing, frustrated bucky at his little shit supreme, obnoxious reader, cryptids, graveyards

A/N: good evening. i am fighting demons (tummy ache). comments and feedback are always appreciated thank u for the love on the series so far i adore u guys sm <;33

Previous part || Series masterlist

A few days after the first video goes up, Bucky returns from his run to a SHIELD file taped to his door.  

He opens to a black and white photo of him from back in the day, and a page full of his details. Full name, blood group, previous addresses, aliases, best colours to match his undertone, favourite Gilmore Girl boyfriend. 

He flips the page to the section on his known connections, only for a sheet of paper to fall out. Sharpie sprawled haphazardly across it, in big red letters. 

NO AUNT. 

BITCH.

He bites back a grin.

The video does reasonably well. Not record breaking numbers or anything, but for once there aren’t TikToks of people counting how many times he blinks to make sure he’s an actual human. 

Always a man of his word, though he has regretted it every single time, he agrees to a second video. It follows after a disgraceful bout of bitching and even pleading, but a few hours later, he resigns himself to his fate silently. 

That is until the schedule for the next video shoot is posted to the server, and he sees it’s at night. 

The night he uses to sleep. The night.

Before he can even type out his rejection, his door receives four sharp knocks. He doesn’t even need to open it to know who it was.  

It’s like you could read his thoughts. Probably could. He doesn’t know the extent of your telekinesis. 

In your hands is a large cardboard box and on your face is a stupidly big grin. 

“Good evening,” you greet. 

“Tell me the show’s getting cancelled,” he says. 

“Nope. We–” you announce, reaching into the box and shoving something onto his chest, “--are going on a trip. Demon hunting.”

“Demon hunting?” 

“To Westley Cemetery,” you add, letting the box tumble onto the floor as you grip its contents. “To catch the Westley Cemetery Cryptid.”

“What the hell is the Westley Cemetery Cryptid?” Bucky demands.

“Creature that lives in the cemetery, watches people from the trees and runs after you if you’re there too long. No known kills, but a couple of scratches and spooks,” you list off. 

His face twists. “That’s not a real thing.”

“Uh, yes it is.” You rest a hand on your hip. “My sources told me so.”

“Who are your sources?”

“Twitter.”

Bucky stares at you without a word.

“It’s totally real. It’s got a Wikia page and everything,” you argue against his complete silence. “I believe in it.”

“That means nothing.”

“Rude.” You glare pointedly. “Anyway, point is, we’re going out tonight to the cemetery and we’re gonna catch this thing on tape.”

Bucky tracks your gaze to finally look down at what you’ve shoved into his hands. It’s a headband, with two cameras attached to it, one facing your face and the other outward. Night vision, he guesses. 

He sighs. “How long? An hour?” 

“Was Hamlet written in an hour? Was Sharknado filmed in an hour?” you exclaim. “Great art takes time. We’re staying out there as long as we need to. So help me, we will emerge victorious.”

Bucky stares at you. “Two hours.”

“Seven.”

“Thirty minutes.”

“Your will is weak and your spirit is cowardly.” You return his fixed look with equal intensity, if not more, which he didn't think was possible. “Three hours.”

“Deal.”

“Great.” You stick your hand out, and he grabs on firmly. “See you at 1am.”

“1am?!”

It is 1am, it is cold and Bucky is miserable. 

But he’s there. In the cemetery. With the stupid camera rig on his head. 

You offer him whiskey to warm him up, and he agrees. 

You then tell him you don’t actually have any because you didn’t think he’d accept.

He hates it here.

The wind whistles around the both of you. The eerie silence is only compounded by the fact that he can’t see anything beyond a certain point. The night is especially dark and there is no moonlight.

He trudges through the patchy grass, dry leaves crunching under his boots.

The camera being so close to his face along with the fact that you wouldn’t stop singing the same three fucking lines of the song over and over again, makes him want to tear his hair out.

“That thing’s not gonna get near us if you don’t shut up,” he grumbles.

“Nonsense,” you hum. “I’m a goddamn delight. He’s gonna be trippin’ over himself to get to me.”

“He doesn’t exist.”

“He definitely does, and you know what? I bet your shit vibes are gonna attract him. Moth to flame and all that. Karmic justice.” 

Bucky stares straight ahead, swerving to avoid running into cracked tombstones. 

You go back to singing, but worse this time. 

“What if we don’t get anything?” he interrupts, to protect his sanity. “No one wants to watch a bunch of people just walk around the dark for 20 minutes.”

There’s no response. 

It takes a second for Bucky to realise the singing’s stopped too.

He stops in his tracks, head swivelling to look for you.

“The fuck…” he mutters. 

In the cemetery, he is truly alone for a moment. Silent, other than wrought iron gates creaking in the far distance. 

The leaves of the tree above him rustle.

Bucky looks up, squinting against the darkness. 

Against the stillness of the night, he sees it. A figure stands tall on the branches of the tree, silhouette obscured by the leaves. 

It leers down at him, unmoving.

Bucky doesn’t even flinch.

“Very funny,” he says. “Hilarious.”

“We’ll fake it,” the figure calls from above. “If we don’t get any footage, I’ll just get on up there and fuck around and you record.”

“Get down,” he demands. “We’re not faking footage.”

If this show had to die this way, so be it.

“Bore,” you boo, lowering yourself to the ground with ease. “If I didn't know any better, I’d say you don’t want to be a part of this series.”

“I don’t.”

“Anyway,” you say obnoxiously, “we won’t have to. There is definitely a cryptid here. I can feel it in my bones.”

“We’re halfway through the graveyard and there’s nothing here,” he shoots back. “We should call it quits.”

“You’re right,” you say, to his surprise. “We need to cover more ground. Let’s split up.”

That is most definitely not what he was saying.

But you start singing again and so Bucky agrees faster than you finish the same stupid third line for the hundredth time that hour.

Bucky is a man of dignity.

Less than five minutes later, he gives up.

He takes a seat against the trunk of a tall tree, in a relatively open clearing. 

He figures if he just takes a nap then the two hours would pass by quicker. 

Bucky has no idea where you’ve gone. The lack of light doesn’t help, even with his advanced vision. 

He crosses his arms behind his head and settles back, eyes closing. 

Not even a second later, he wants to rip his hair out when the stupid song you were singing reintroduces itself in his head.

“For fuck’s sake,” he groans. 

The tree he’s leaning against shifts ever so slightly.

His eyes fly open, but he doesn’t move an inch.

Instinctually, his breathing slows and his ears tune in to pick up even the faintest sounds.

The draft whispers, and he knows for a fact that something is above him.

A branch cracks. 

“Go away,” Bucky says loudly. 

A second passes. 

And then another. 

“You’re supposed to be looking for the thing,” you shout.

“It’ll find me if it wants to.” He shifts to make himself more comfortable. “I’m givin’ him a real shot here.” 

“You didn’t even look up.”

“Didn’t have to.”

“He could have been above you.”

“But he wasn’t.” Bucky’s eyes close again. 

“You’re terrible.” It comes back muffled, and branches shift. “I’m headin’ that way. One of us has to put some effort into this.”

“Joy. Knock yourself out.”

The trunk moves under his muscles again and Bucky lets out a small exhale, settling back into the position he was in.

Until he hears you singing in the distance. Same three lines, same off-key tune.

Bucky drags his palm across his face. 

An hour passes. 

Unlike his original plan, he does not sleep.

He instead recounts every element he remembers from the periodic table. 

Replays every Dodgers game from his childhood, and then gets mad at their shift. 

Then he tries to recollect every fact he knows about you so far. Mutant, captured and experimented on, broke free several years before him. Met Nat along the way and befriended her. Telekinesis, slowed aging. Escape artist. Wedding videographer. Allegedly.

He just doesn’t get how you’re so goddamn chirpy all the time, given that he’d been through something similar and come out the way he had. 

It had taken him a month to say anything to anyone other than Steve. You went out for brunch with Sam the same weekend you showed up at the compound.

He doesn’t get you.

Speaking of which, he hasn’t actually seen you in a while. 

He checks the time on his watch. Nearly 3am.

He had a fucking workout in the morning and no lizard-man was going to be the cause for Steve outrunning him.

He pushes himself off the ground with a groan, and stretches out his sore limbs. Definitely too old for lying around a cemetery beyond midnight.

He calls out your name loudly, and then again, before waiting. 

He hears bells ringing in the distance. 

Bucky looks up.

In the shadows of the trees, he comes face to face with the same sight as before. A figure, standing on the branches.  

“There’s nothing here,” he calls out, sighing. “Can we just leave?”

The twigs creek, and for a second he thinks you’re going to fall. 

“Already told you I’m not faking footage, get down from there,” he repeats. “I’m leaving. I’ll see you at the gate.”

The leaves shuffle around before he hears branches break. 

Something you say gets obscured by your movement, but you disappear again. He thinks that maybe you were cursing him out, and deservedly so. He just couldn’t find it in himself to care. 

He rolls his eyes, but starts making his way to the entrance of the graveyard.

The walk back is faster, and he holds back a yawn as the gates start creeping up on the horizon. 

There’s no sign of you. He half thinks you ditched him here and went back to the compound. Or fell off the tree and were just laying there. 

But he decides to wait, leaning against the exposed concrete wall. 

Eyes closed, he rubs his temples and decides that if you’re not here in the next thirty seconds, he’ll just–

“Hey,” you greeet from right in front of him.

“Where the hell did you go?” he demands. 

You blink at him, before holding up a wrapper. 

“Got a sandwich. I was hungry. The diner was real nice too, I spent like half an hour talkin’ to the owner.”

He stares at you. “You just left to get a sandwich?”

“Yeah, and I got you one, too,” you reply, tossing him a paper bag. “You’re welcome. God bless that man, but those things aren’t cheap.”

“You’ve not been here for the last half hour?”  

“I mean, I spent like ten minutes looking.” You shrug, taking another bite. “All I got was a bunch of grass.”

Ten minutes. Bucky had sat under the stupid tree for an hour. 

“So you just left,” he says dryly.

“Yes,” you reply like it’s not even worth debating. “Besides, if anyone could find a cryptid it’d be you. A fellow cryptid.”

Bucky spins on his heel to leave.

“You’re welcome for dinner,” you call out, and he can hear you laugh.

He flips you the finger, and regrets it a second later when your singing resumes.

The sandwich is good. He appreciates it.

He even manages to keep pace with Steve the next morning. 

What he doesn’t appreciate is coming back to fifteen missed calls and four video calls from you.

From: co-host (TGS)

can you pick up 

From: co-host (TGS)

i know you have nothing going on in your life you are bitchless

Bucky switches off his phone for the next three hours. 

Finally, it’s a threat that you will show up at his door again and Bucky finally video calls you back that evening. 

“What,” he states.

“Took you long enough,” you huff, sitting up to adjust the camera. In the middle of the ordeal, Bucky sees your laptop open.

“What do you want?” he repeats.

“The team sent over the videos from last night,” you tell him. “At some point in the video you said ‘we’re not faking footage, get down from there.”

“Yeah.”

He hears you play the footage faintly in the background, almost to substantiate your point. He cringes at the sound of his own voice.  

“Who were you talking to?” 

Bucky rolls his eyes. “Heard you in the trees. Figured you climbed up there again.”

“Ah.” You click your tongue. “Interesting.”

“What.”

You hum. “See, that wasn’t me.”

Bucky’s eyes narrow. “Yes, it was.”

“No, it wasn’t,” you say calmly. “I’d left to get dinner way before all that.”

“Right.”

“I’m serious. Got the timestamp on my video to prove it.” You look up at him through the camera finally. “So who were you actually talking to, Barnes?”

Bucky’s nose twitches.

“Bye,” he says shortly.

“Dude,” he hears you laugh loudly through the phone. “I fuckin’ told you you’d attract these things, you–”

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing!

to keep up with updates for this fic and others, please follow @shurisneakersupdates and turn on post notifications!

Next part

[michaelwheelerdefiodental]

Jocks dynamics on Season 5 and comparing them to Henry Bowers gang from IT (and others iconic 80s villains):

This boy below with a blue shirt is the only one that didn't wear their jersey in season 4. I believe he wasn't part of the team at all in Season 4. My theory is that just like Lucas, he is just a black boy trying to fit in; he even did some research and helped them with Eddie's case, just like Lucas. He helped them find the house of that drug dealer named Rick. But he was never seen with them while they were going on a "mission", he just gave them tips and hanged out with them during parties, he doesn't appear in the basketball game, playing or even in the bench, if i remember correctly. His shirt is similar to Lucas blue shirt in episode 2 too, i think they were purposefully making parallels with these two.

We can see Andy and Chance on this paparazzi pic, and supposedly the same guy from season 4, but now he is wearing the jersey below his jacket (we can see the collar from the jersey they use, and some green color too).

Now we have a new jock, a blonde one, that not only resembles Jason (of course), but young Johnny Lawrence from Karate Kid too. This means he will be a big problem, the Duffer Brothers wouldn't cast someone similar to Johnny, a 80s iconic bully, to just make him a random weakling bully (the actor name is Deric Replogle).

He is following Dustin on the school grounds, so he is taking the lead against the actual symbol of the Hellfire Club. Meanwhile, Andy, Chase, and the new teammate are following Mike. When Dustin is at the cemetery, he is the one person more close to him; i think he will do the most damage to Dustin. Chance is there with him, the actor is shaking hands with one of the Duffers. There's no sign of Andy, maybe the actor is behind the camera, or he didn't participate in this scene.

Now i'll explain what i think their conflict will be. Andy is probably the leader now that Jason is dead, and we know he is way more crazy than him; Jason had a twisted idea of justice, but Andy seems to like to inflict pain on others. He made jokes about Chrissy being the one that was murdered, smiled while talking about hunting Eddie, and tackled Erica, a 11-year-old, while threatening to break her arm. Now this new blonde jock could be another violent and sadistic asshole, he looks like Johnny Lawrence, who is someone very dangerous to mess with, and he is the one most close to Dustin after they beat him; this can make both Andy and the blonde to try take the leadership for themselves. The blonde resembles Jason, and this would make Andy feel like an underdog again. I think he actually cared about Jason in some twisted way, but now that he is in a leader role, he won't let anyone take this from him.

We can compare this group with the four core. Andy would be Dustin, the blonde guy would be Mike; both Mike and Dustin are the ones to take the lead a lot of times, and some people tend to discuss who is the real leader of the four core, but they wouldn't care about it. On the other hand, Andy would definitely care about somebody taking him off his leader role, and this blonde jock can be the one. Chance would be Will; both are quieter guys, but Will actually has his own opinion about things and isn't always hiding them; Chance just followed Jason and Andy like a stray dog. The blue shirt guy would be Lucas, as i said. He just wants to find a way to fit in (there's a post here on Tumblr comparing the four core with the original jocks from season 4, but i couldn't find it, if you have it, send it to me so i can put the link right here).

After being challenged by the blonde too many times, Andy would end up killing him, and right after this, he would decide to kill the whole main characters gang for good, after the whole town turned into absolute chaos. He can be influenced by Vecna to do all of this, just like Henry Bowers from IT book and movies. And we know Stranger Things is heavily influenced by IT; Vecna is literally a mix of Pennywise and Freddy Krueger. Pennywise influenced Henry to kill his father, then he made the whole city of Derry be engulfed by a storm. Soon after this, he made Henry and his friends, Victor and Belch, go after the Losers Club. On IT, Henry's main target was Mike, a black kid, and it isn't a reach to say that Lucas, a black teenager, will be Andy's main target too, as he will probably think Lucas killed Jason.

After seeing all this crazy shit happening, the new boy (the one with the blue shirt on season 4, in case you have forgotten, lol) would be scared, as he didn't really want all this to happen, he just wanted to fit in, just like Lucas. Now there are two options that the writers can take, 1: he decides to get the hell out of this group just like Lucas on Season 4; 2: he can continue in this hellhole and die with Chance, just like Victor and Belch from IT, to show that not everybody is like Lucas, some people will decide to continue in a bad environment just to fit in; Andy would die later on after having an encounter with the main group, just like Henry Bowers.

Or: Andy could end up being someone like Patrick Hockstetter, a sadistic maniac that ends up having a premature death, then the blonde takes the role of Henry Bowers for himself. But i think the other way is more coherent; Andy is already established as a character (and there's always the chance of this blonde guy being just a random that don't even has lines, but i hope not don't think so, lol).

I think this would be a good way to implement some horror with human villains in the series. If you're going to make a high school bully a villain, make him terrifying, just like Henry Bowers. There's the military like Sullivan and Linda Hamilton character, but i ain't really scared of them; i just know they have resources like guns; they aren't scary at all for me.

I came up with this idea after seeing @will80sbyers posts about these paparazzi pics, thank you!