#struggles i think i’ll just jump off a bridge the next time some one drags me down. ANYWAY XOXO LOVE U TUMBLR 💖💖💖💖

[sweetpxxches]

The little things in Nevada matter most. (Ch. 1)

Hank/Sanford/Deimos/Reader Fic, baby.

This fic has chapters, so this is the first one! I will link the new chapters as ones go by.

Warnings will be listed here as chapters are made, as of now, Chapter 1 contains:

- Alcohol 

- Mild mentions of gore

- Fluff

This chapter’s just the beginning of finding each other out. This is a lot so heck yeah!

Reader is AFAB and uses gender neutral pronouns. (they/them) ^-^

Chapter list: 1 - ?

It was an early evening in Nevada, you missed the sounds of crickets chirping in the night. But due to the events that happened in this place, there is lack of life that surrounds it. All that is left are demons, clowns, sheriffs, and all that utter nonsense that you question how badly this had to be for a state to become it's new circle of Hell. But at that point, it wasn't really worth thinking too hard on. You instead just think about how at least thankful life was to you to give you friends so your life isn't too lonely. Without Hank, Deimos, Sanford, and 2BDamned, life would of been miserable. Despite what they're here for, the red and black tints of the skies seem blue to you. You were sitting on the edge of a bridge, kicking your legs as you took a sip out of soda can, letting the wind blow passed your hair. But you felt the ground rumble and you swiftly got up to face where it was coming from, and you saw the three familiar figures in a truck. With a sigh of relief, you waved at them and they drove by to you. Sanford poked out at the back of the truck, waving. "Hey, Mercenary! We're heading out to look for some bars around here, you up for that?" You shrugged it off, chugging down the rest of your drink and tossing the can over the bridge. "Sure, why not? Not like I got much better to do. Place has been extra quiet since we've bombed one of those factories earlier." You saw Deimos reached out to you, and you grabbed his arm as he tugged you up between you and Sanford. "Welcome aboard, then!" Deimos laughed, patting your shoulder. You smiled at the two, getting yourself comfortable. You turned your head over to Hank, who looked back and nodded. "Glad to see you in one piece, Merc." He said as he started the engine and began driving off. "Good to see you didn't die again either, Hank." You joked, leaning back. It was almost like things were back to normal, the aura of happiness and the cheerful conversations filled your heart with a sense of serenity. It is a rare occasion just to feel the serenity of friendship. Then again, if you could even consider this as friendship. These three made your heart confused, and so your mind. The more you thought about it, the more it felt like you had decisions to make on the long end. Sanford was the gentle yet mature one in the bunch, his body may be brawns but he was also brains. He didn't take jokes a lot, but sometimes he does choose to have fun with others whenever he can, as well as how caring he is for the group. Sometimes you wonder if he's secretly a major softie who would own rabbits for a living. Then there was Deimos, a cunning and suave guy who most would consider a 'bastard' for how he behaves. Always has a cigarette between his teeth as well as a smug demeanor. You couldn't help but smirk at the times of Deimos trying to show off to you a few times when you first joined the crew, and Hank always telling him to keep his pants on. The one time Deimos even attempted went to failure due to him flexing while trying to shoot with one hand, but his hand got blasted off from a heavy bullet blow, making him shriek and fall over. Although cruel, you laughed at his awful attempt at playing Chad. But despite it all, you still care for the goof. Then there was Hank. Quiet, down to business, but has a rather sadistic side of him. You could say he comes off cold, but there are moments in time where he shows a glint of emotion, most of the time when his bloodlust meets a 'sugar high' to the point he can't control it anymore and lets loose his inner need of murder. You find it intimidating, but also fascinating to see how far he can go. Of course most of the time it leads to him getting brutally killed, but somehow a few days later he always ends up coming back... You remember the first time you saw him get destroyed, a large MAG Agent managed to grab him by the head and ripped him apart, and it made you shriek out to him before Sanford dragged you out the room. But it was days later, you saw him come back as if none of that happened, and you just assumed that's how it will always be when Hank dies. And to no one's surprise, you were right. At that point, you began to care less about him getting killed, sometimes you use his body as a shield whenever he's fallen. Makes you wonder if Hank is even human at all, and is linked to some weird spiritual thing. But those were thoughts to keep to yourself, otherwise it'd make the room awkward, especially to Hank.

Despite it all, these three had their own stories and personalities to show, and you love all three of them.

You dazed off from the conversation between Sanford and Deimos, until you heard Deimos say your name. You blinked awake, looking over. "Huh?" "Hey, the ride's over, we found a place to hang out." Deimos got up and bounced off the truck, reaching over to you. You smiled down at him and jumped right into his arms, leading him to twirl you around and settle you down, making you chuckle. Sanford followed along, stretching his arms out. "Seems like this place is a ghost town right now, wonder why." "We're why, Sanford." Hank retorted, stepping out the truck as he placed two guns in his pocket, in case of anything. "Grunts and agents won't fuck with us, now imagine them fucking with us drunk." He scoffed, walking passed the three of you. You placed your hands behind you back, shrugging. "Oh well, let's hope there's drinks at least." The four of you made way into the bar, a bartender was cleaning an empty glass only to spot the four of you, immediately freezing up in fear. "S-Shit! It's you guys again!" The bartender stood back, keeping a tight grip on the glass in hand, but Hank slammed a hand down on the bar table. "Give us drinks, old man. Or it'll be big time for you." Hank ordered, and without hesitation from the man behind the bar, he simply did as he was told, although shaking in fear from the fact all for of you were present. You eyed him carefully, but sat on a stool twirling around it. "I swear, it gets too boring too quick whenever we have days off." Deimos sighed, sitting on a stool next to you. "You're telling me, this place tends to get quiet quick whenever it doesn't get busy. You think those AAHW Agents are planning something big?" Sanford asked, and saw Hank lean against the table, shrugging. "Hope so. If they're just gonna throw more grunts at our way, I'll consider that a big fuck you from them." He huffed, rolling his shoulder. You leaned on the table. "I dunno, if they retreated this long, it's gotta be something good!" Sanford chuckled, nodding off the statement. "Maybe, maybe... hey, I got an idea, let's all drink 'til something happens!" "Like alcohol poisoning?" You raised a brow at Sanford, and Deimos chuckled under his breath. "Right, right, I'm just saying it's our night, so let's make it worth while." The bartender slid down a few shots for the crew, Sanford took one shot with a quick swig, and raised the empty glass. "Come on, now! Let's do it!" Deimos looked at you and Hank, and the three of you shrugged it off and raised a glass to join with Sanford.

What felt like hours that were only minutes, Hank, Sanford, Deimos, and yourself decided to be reckless. Sanford was a strong one, taking the shots like they were water, while Deimos was making his way to getting on Sanford's level, as for Hank, it was hard to tell if the alcohol hit him at all. But unfortunately, out of this bunch, you were the weakest to alcohol, your mind was buzzing on your eighth shot, seeing the three mercenaries become six, or is it seven? You couldn't tell. But you snapped away when you felt Deimos tugging you over for some kind of sluggish dance. "C'mon, Mercenary! Let's fuck around for a while, will ya?!" He chirped, and you made a groggy 'wait no' as he pulled you around all playful, laughing his ass off. Deep down, you can't wait to kick this guy's ass once things die low. But as of now, everyone was getting tipsy, and who knows what nonsense they'll pull. The only thing you're hoping is Hank won't pull out a gun and shoot around like an idiot. Deep down, you feel like he'll do that. "Deimos, let go of me you idiot!" You shouted over his goofy laughter, but he ended up slipping off and having you two fall on the ground. Hank shook his head, sighing at the sight. "You two shouldn't have alcohol." He snorted, looking over to Sanford who was growing just as buzzed as the other two. It felt like he had to babysit you three, but Hank was personally enjoying the sight of his mercenaries being themselves with no consequences. After a few hours, the rest of the group was smashed. You couldn't tell who you were clinging on, but they were struggling to keep you in their arms. "Shit, what time is it? Is there a place to even hide?" Deimos slurred, wiping alcohol off his mouth. It seems the bartender made his way out before they could even ask for more, which made Deimos growl in frustration. "Dammit! That asshole ditched us!" He raised a fist, but Sanford held his shoulder. "Relax, soldier. We're done for the night. I'm fucking wasted!" He snorted, keeping a firm hold onto you. You looked up at Sanford, noticing you were facing his bare chest, making your eyes widen and have your cheeks flare up.

“Uh...” You blinked.

“Yeah, Merc?” Sanford looked down, noticing your expression. “Shit- you good? You look sick.” He stumbled up and settled you on the table, but you just seem dazed at how nice his body is. Or maybe that’s the alcohol speaking. Unfocused, you grabbed Sanford and Deimos by the shoulders for support. “Maybe we should head back to the hideout we had last time, hardly anyone... goes there.” You paused and blinked at the floor, seeing your feet stumbling. Hank seemed to be the only one capable of keeping his composure, though not really attempting to give anyone a hand at all. “You know what, since I’m not the one who’s fucked up here, I’ll drive everyone back. I figured you three wouldn’t control yourselves, not like I’d be surprised about it.” Hank left out the door, leaving the rest of you to struggle along the way. It was like a difficult obstacle in stepping from point A to point B, Deimos and Sanford pulling you around for support as you all waddled your way to the truck. It was a blur the moment you slumped into the back of the truck, the only thing you could feel was your brain growing an immense fatigue as well as someone keeping your body up. The moment you passed out, you could only feel the nausea upcoming. 

When you woke up, you were welcomed to a face between the bare chest of Sanford, which made you immediately bounce off. But the moment you did, your head pulsed in a sense of pain and confusion, making you hiss under your breath, gripping your forehead. “Son of a bitch...” You muttered, but you saw that Sanford and Deimos were still asleep. Despite them being out cold, you really didn’t expect to have Sanford allowing you to get that handsy with him. Or maybe he wanted you to be comfortable... then again, those were comfortable. But the thoughts went away quick when you felt your head spin, stomach ready to hurl. You went over the edge of the truck, throwing up the excess of what was left in your stomach, the hangover lighting up slightly from the release. You looked over to the edge ahead, seeing a familiar building. It seems that Hank managed to drive everyone home. You really couldn’t help but be thankful that Hank was at least caring enough to drag everyone back. Where Hank was is nowhere to be found, but you can assume he must of went inside without you and the other two. You looked over at Sanford and Deimos, you’re sure they’ll be fine on their own, no one comes here nor interferes in this area. Sluggishly, you rolled out over the edge of the truck, hopping off with a simple thud to the ground. As you dusted off and made way inside, you saw Hank just hanging out on the couch, head held back with a cigarette in his mouth. 

You always found it adorable how he is in his most calm state, you sometimes wish he was like this more often. Though unfortunately, he’s the least likely to contain himself. You could tell he’s still awake, because the moment you shut the door, he spoke. “You’ve finally managed to get up. Head still hurtin’?” You turned over to him, seeing he’s still lazy about. “Yeah, but I’ll get over it. Sanford and Deimos haven’t gotten up yet, but hey, I’m here.” You walked over and sat on a seat beside him, patting his head which only made him grunt at your brave actions. “Remind me to tell you guys when you have one too many, you guys were drinking for hours.” Hank sighed, pulling the cigarette out his mouth, letting the smoke pass his nostrils. “Sorry, I didn’t even catch the time when we even started. Sanford shouldn’t of challenged us... then again, you won anyway.” 

“That’s because I didn’t overdo it. Sanford tends to have too much fun on his free time.” Hank shrugged, “Besides, if I joined in the nonsense no one would be able to take anyone back home. I ain’t risking to crash into a building drunk, won’t be too fun missing my shots.” You could only chuckle, watching him wave his hands about. He wasn’t expressive in face, but his hands were. You wondered if it was a good idea to kill time with him if you would just...

“Hey, Mercenary.” Hank spoke up. “Oh! Yeah?” You blinked back out of thought, looking at him. “I was wondering... couldn’t help but notice how it was kind of cute to see you try and cling onto me earlier when you were drunk.” Your eyes widened in embarrassment, looking away immediately. “G-God! Are you serious?! Fuck I’m sorry, Hank- I really didn’t mean to-” “It’s fine, dear.” Hank waved it off, you can tell there’s a smirk under there. “In fact I didn’t mind you getting handsy.” You puffed your cheeks at him, then giving him a hit in the head, making his shoot up immediately. “Ow- hey!” Hank huffed, rubbing his head. “Bad enough I got my head kicked in everywhere!” You crossed your arms, feeling your cheeks warm from the flustered reaction. “Yeah, yeah, whatever. I just don’t like it when you make a fool out of me, you always do that with everyone.” He looked at you, tilting his head lightly. “Now you know it’s not me trying to be a dick to you, Mercenary. I just do it because I thought maybe you wouldn’t mind me teasing you.” It took a moment, then you realized the way he worded it. You said he does it to everyone in the group, so does that mean he does it to ease everyone because he likes them? You blinked, looking at Hank. “Wait, you mean just me, or?”

“I mean everyone, you think I don’t bother Deimos and Sanford?” Hank continued for you, crossing his arms. It seems like dots are being made here, and you weren’t sure how to feel about it. Does he like the three of you the way you like them in return? It made you wonder. But you didn’t want to invade Hank’s personal stuff, you felt like he wasn’t aware of his own emotions. “Huh... Well, I guess I feel a little better about it now. Don’t know what you get out of it, though.” Hank looked over to you when you spoken that, and he looked back at the window, putting his cigarette out on his arm. “Honestly? Don’t know myself either, but it makes me feel a little better knowing it makes you guys get a kick out of my words, hahah.” 

You couldn’t help but smile at him, maybe he is feeling for certain things he wasn’t aware yet. And honestly, you want to help connect these dots for not only himself, but for everyone else. Maybe there is a spark that needs to be set alight, just unsure where to start. But as of now, you just want to enjoy the silence that remains in the room, closing your eyes as you smelled the remaining smoke in the room from Hank’s cigarette.

Maybe this little break for the group isn’t so bad.

[haitanizzz]

!contains tokyo revengers manga spoilers!

cw: angst, swearing, alcohol mention, slight violence, blood/bruises mention, slight sa? (non-consensual kiss), spelling errors

characters: draken and inui

summary: draken gets drunk and got his ass into a fight. inui picks him up and takes care of him but draken can't seem to move on from emma. inui can't tell the difference between platonic and romantic attraction, kinda one-sided love?, draken basically being depressed lol also set in the timeline where they own a bikeshop together

note: i don't ship them but i don't have anything against the ppl who do, i just thought their relationship was a great angst material :) i rushed the end a bit tho cuz i was getting out of ideas lol hope you enjoy!! also big thanks to the people who requested from us and we're a bit slow, but we're working on them don't worry!<3

-L

"hey inui! inui! seishu are you okay?"

draken was having it rough for a few days now, his nightmares about emma coming back to him each night like a curse from the past. inui noticed that his friend was more tense around him or when draken would hesitate to call out to him, but he didn't say anything since he knew that mental health was a touchy subject for his partner because of a certain girl. he was having a hard time ignoring it though as it left a bad taste in his mouth, but he didn't know why. is it because draken is his dear friend or maybe it is because he was in love? ken was so nice to him and he was his friend because he was inui seishu and not somebody else, right? he was so lost in his thoughts he didn't even hear draken call out to him.

"huh?"

"i've called out to you 3 times already! you look like you've been stressing so much lately-"

"oh no, no! im totally fine don't worry about it, i was just daydreaming a little bit!" he said as he let out an awkward laugh.

draken flashed him a gentle smile and patted his back.

"if you say so! but don't hesitate to ask for anything if you're not feeling well, aight?"

"got it boss"

"hey! i told u stop with that!" he playfully scolded inui as both of them began laughing. "anyways i just wanted to ask if you could close the shop today? i'm going out with some friends to drink, so.."

"of course! you can count on me, just give me the keys and you can go!

"thanks inupi! i owe you one!"

it was already dark outside when draken began to pack his things and passed the keys to inui.

"don't forget to close it or i'll beat ya ass if anything is missing tomorrow!"

"yeah yeah, just go already!" inui said as he pushed his friend through the door of their office.

"see you tomorrow seishu! "

he woke up to his ringtone, phone buzzing on the table as he got up and tried to wipe the sleep from his eyes. he didn't even have the energy to look at who was calling him so he just picked it up.

"yeah! see ya!" he sighed and almost slammed the door shut on accident. he was nervous but why? he could feel a pit in his stomach like when something bad is about to happen but he ignored the feeling and chose to dose off for a small nap on the sofa that was in the office.

-

"hello?" he answered the phone with a groggy voice.

"hey inui! sorry to call you this late but i need you to come here!"

"kazutora? it's not often that you call me, what's wrong?" he was dumbfounded that kazutora callled him as they barley even kept contact with each other.

"it's draken."

"what?"

"that idiot got drunk and punched a dude."

"oh god, again? " inui pinched the bridge of his nose not wanting to get up and drive there because he didn't like dealing with drunk people especially when it was ryuguji who got drunk. "im coming don't worry, thanks for giving me a call kazutora.

"thanks inui, we're at the new bar, just 2 streets down. we'll wait for you at the entrance!" kazutora said and immediately hang up.

"i swear that dumbass is going to be my death one day.." inui murmured and grabbed his jacket and the keys to his bike. "thank god it's not that far, just 2 streets down or i wouldn't even go to get his drunk ass."

the engine of his motorbike roared as he stopped in front of a bar, that had neon lights around it. everything was so bright he got a little dizzy and almost had to close his eyes. he spotted kazutora and draken sitting together at a random shop's staircase that was next to the bar. he got up from his bike and began walking towards them and it was when he got closer, that's when he noticed the blood sitting on draken's white shirt and bruises all over his face.

"what the fuck happened?!"

the two of them jumped at inui's voice not expecting him to shout at them.

"sorry to drag you out to get him this late, i could've bring him home myself but chifuyu and the others are still in there and im kinda worried what would they do when there's nobody to look out for them." kazutora said as he slightly bowed his head as an apology.

"don't worry about it man, don't apologize." inui gave kazutora a slight smile as he took draken's arm around his shoulder to make sure he wouldn't fall. "i'll be taking him home now..thanks for looking out for him."

"it's nothing. have a safe drive and call me if something is up!"

"yeah will do!" inui said as he began walking back to his bike with now draken slumped over him. it was very strange that draken wasn't talking at all, he was usually very loud.

"im not a kid you know? i can take care of myself inupi."

"oh so you now know how to talk? and it didn't seem like you were doing so good, so just shut up and let me drive you home!"

draken let out a laugh as he sat on the back of the motorcycle and grabbed the spare helmet.

"aight, aight! just don't be so loud, my head is killing me.."

"i wonder why?" inui scoffed as he sat on the front. "just make sure you don't fall off or you'll have to go to the hospital by yourself."

the drive to draken's apartment was quiet. none of them talked, the only thing that was making noise was the motorbike and those few cars that passed them. they were almost there when inui felt arms wrap around his waist and felt some weight on his left shoulder and he tensed under draken's touch, his heart hammering in his chest.

"i swear to god if you puke on me-"

"are you mad?" draken's voice was soft, almost like when a child got caught stealing candies.

inui didn't answer not knowing what to say to a question like that so he just kept quiet.

they soon arrived to draken's apartment complex and inui parked his bike.

none of them said a word and seishu helped his friend up the stairs, then to his door. keys jingled as draken searched his pockets and struggled to fit the key to his door inside the keyhole. inui gently pushed him away and opened the door and draken almost immediately went and crashed on the couch. seishu shaked his head and closed the door behind him, took off his shoes then followed draken to his livingroom.

"come on man, we need to get you patched up and change! i promise you can sleep all you want after we're done." draken just groaned and put his head on inui's shoulder s a sign to help him to his bedroom.

"i think the booze is really starting to get to me.." draken said as his words were slightly slurred from the alcohol he had consumed. inui helped him up and staring walking towards draken's room and sat him down onto the bed and turned on the lights. draken hissed at the sudden brightness and inui just let out a chuckle then went to the bathroom to get the first-aid kit. he came back with the box and sat next to draken and grabbed his chin.

"come on this gonna hurt a bit, but i'll be as careful and quick as i can so bear with it 'kay?" the tatted male just hummed as an answer and inui took it as a sign to start cleaning his bruises. he started dabbing under his eye first, then right under his jaw with careful movements. draken didn't seem to be giving any reaction so he just continued until his eyes sat on his slightly busted lip. seishu looked away for a moment then went to dab the sanitizer on his lip when draken took a hold of his wrist and he dopped the cottonball he was holding.

"what's wro-" seishu's words were cut off when draken kissed him. inui's whole body froze as memories from his high school years started to pry at his mind and tears filled his eyes. he didn't know what to do. was it the right thing that he just sat there without doing anything but his hands shaking? he will never know the answer to that. he only came back to reality when draken pulled away and smiled at him with red dusting his cheeks, inui didn't know if it was from the alcohol or because draken was embarrassed.

"i love you..emma." draken whispered against inui's neck and passed out. seishu couldn't process what was happening and his chest started to hurt. he quickly pushed draken off of him (who surprisingly didn't even budge) and stood up with wide eyes, tears threatening to spill out of them. he didn't even bother to pack the first aid kit as he was almost running to the door. he slammed the shop's keys on draken's kitchen island and left.

-

the next morning draken woke up with a headache.

"..what happened?" he said as he looked through his room, the first-aid kit on the floor. he tried to remember what happened last night as he went to get dressed for work.

he was confused when inui didn't came to work that day.

[taetaespeaches]

“Don’t you dare.”

yoongi x reader (or oc) genre: fluff word count: 3.6K

a/n: Eeeek I’m so excited to finally be posting Min/Kid again!!!! A lot has happened since I last wrote for these two. You know, a shoulder surgery, release of BE, and a Grammy nomination just to list a few. Soooo all three of those are included in this. I hope you all enjoy, and as always, thank you for reading! :)) 

CHOPPING the celery, you hummed along with the acoustic melody resonating in the kitchen, the voices of your boyfriend and his members filling the space. The slow, sad tune was one of your favorites on the new album, but then again, you favored them all.

Looking down at your feet, you spotted the small fluffy dog staring up at you cutely. “I just wanna be happier,” you sang at the dog, “How about you, Holly?”

At hearing his name, he cocked his head at you, you smiling fondly. “Are you happy?” You continued your conversation with the pup in a tone that was higher pitched than your normal speaking voice. “What’s up? Do you want some celery?” You asked. “I don’t think you’ll like it much, bubs.”

You watched the dog for a moment longer before he got too excited, jumping up your leg causing you to giggle and relent. “Ok, ok,” you grinned, taking a small piece of the vegetable between your fingertips. Crouching down, you held it out for Holly to take, the dog carefully sniffing it. “I’m telling you, dude, you’re not gonna like it,” you told him just as he slowly grabbed the morsel from your fingers and dropped it to the floor. “Are you gonna eat it?” You questioned in surprise, both you and the dog too intrigued by the celery to notice the new kitchen visitor standing behind you.

“Is he eating celery?” Your boyfriend’s groggy voice suddenly sounded, you turning around in surprise and slight startlement.

“Shit, hi,” you greeted him, clutching your chest in fright, taking in his disheveled appearance as he had just woken up from a nap. “He’s considering,” you smiled before turning back to the dog. “I don’t think he’ll do it.”

“Holly, you’re not starving, buddy,” he told the little pup, a slight chuckle lacing the words. You listened as Yoongi’s feet shuffled closer to you, his hand suddenly finding its way to the back of your head, his fingers instantly slipping into your strands, lightly massaging your roots.

Taking his hand in yours, you brought it to your lips as you stood, leaving a light kiss to the back of it before trailing them down the bottom of his thumb and to his wrist. “How are you feeling, baby?” You asked him, the man giving you a soft close-mouthed grin that made his fluffy cheeks look even fuller.

“I feel fine,” he assured you, moving his hand in your grip to intertwine his fingers with your own as he leaned toward you, pressing a sweet kiss to your lips. “You should have woken me up, Kid,” he whispered against your lips.

Your mouth curved upward as you shook your head, kissing him once more before stepping back from him and reluctantly separating your hand from his. “Absolutely not,” you said simply, Yoongi scoffing as he pulled his gaze from you to the dog, you following his eyes to see Holly propped up on your boyfriend’s legs. Cast to the side was the piece of celery, you giggling as Yoongi smiled in amusement.

“Do you want a real treat?” He asked the dog, you looking fondly at your boyfriend’s wide-eyed gaze as he addressed Holly in a cutesy voice. “I’ll give you a real one, none of this celery stuff,” he playfully teased you, shooting you a gummy grin.

“Hey, he asked for it,” you defended, crossing your arms over your ribcage as Yoongi made his way across the kitchen to the treat cupboard.

You observed him as he reached for a plastic container with a twist lid, however stalling when he realized it would be quite difficult to take off with one arm. Instead he reached for the bag of treats next to it, using his teeth to hold one end of the zip lock as he pulled it open.

“Here you go, Holly,” he handed the pup the treat, the dog wiggling excitedly before running off to munch in peace. “That’s why I’m his favorite,” he told you with a smug smile, your mouth opening in feigned surprise.  

“You think you’re Holly’s favorite?” You asked him, the man giving you a weak shrug, given one of his shoulders was out of commission. “Aw, Min,” you cooed. “When did you get so delusional, old man?”

Yoongi chuckled at you as he turned back to the bag of treats, a focus overtaking his face as he struggled to reseal it with one hand. Of course you felt for the man, having undergone a shoulder surgery in the recent weeks, but you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t amusing to watch him pout in frustration at a bag of dog treats. And you only became fonder when he finally sealed it, a quiet hum of satisfaction leaving his lips before turning to catch your gaze, you holding back a grin as his cheeks tinted pink.

“Everything is so much more difficult,” he whined in embarrassment, you allowing yourself to lightly laugh at his expense.

“You’re so cute though,” you complimented, the man grunting at the comment as he looked to the cutting board.

“What can I help with?” He asked you, you shooting him a glare.

“You can help by keeping me company,” you told him sternly. “Sit here and chat with me, I missed you today.”

Opening his mouth to contend your command, you held up your hand to him. “Don’t argue with me, I’ll stop helping you put your pants on,” you teased him, Yoongi letting out a silent laugh paired with his adorable gummy grin.

“That’s just cruel,” he joked back just before taking a seat across from you at the kitchen island. “Maybe I’ll just stop wearing pants then,” he suggested.

“Now who’s being cruel?” You questioned with a smirk, enjoying the amusement displayed on your boyfriend’s features. Picking the knife up, you continued chopping up vegetables as Yoongi watched you carefully. “How was therapy this morning?”

“I’m so tired,” he chuckled at himself as you pouted and cooed. “It was fine though,” he nodded.

“Good,” you grinned. “You better not be pushing yourself too hard,” you warned, Yoongi letting out a light laugh.

“I want to get back out there,” he noted, a small knowing smile forming on your lips. “I want to be ready to perform this album when we’re able,” he added, nodding to your phone as ‘Telepathy’ sounded through the speaker.

“And you will be ready,” you assured him, “as long as you pace yourself.”

“Yes ma’am,” he teased, you trying to hold back your smile but failing. “Have you picked a favorite yet?” He asked, referring to your favorite track on his group’s new album.

“I’ve always had a favorite,” you told him as you started lightly grooving to the upbeat track.

“This one?” He asked in surprise, making you roll our eyes as you started dancing more and singing along. “Wow,” he shook his head in disbelief. “Are you just saying this to make me feel good since I’m all laid up?” He asked, you giggling at the question.

“You’re so annoying,” you told him through your chuckle, reaching for a piece of celery and lightly tossing it at him. The piece of vegetable made contact with his cheek and he pulled a dramatic expression of shock, his mouth open as he playfully gasped. “Of course I’m just saying that to make you feel good,” you teased, Yoongi laughing breathily as he popped the piece of celery into his mouth.

“Thank you anyway,” he smiled softly as you let out a breathy laugh. You both watched each other for a moment, your eyes traveling each other’s faces before your gazes connected, Yoongi only holding contact for a second until quickly averting his orbs to the countertop.

Smiling to yourself, you placed the knife to the stone, the sound of metal clinking against the hard surface piquing Yoongi’s interest enough for him to look at the blade. As you began walking around the counter toward your boyfriend, his eyes found your hips, dragging up your frame, landing on your grin.

“The song is amazing,” you assured him seriously. “And I think this might be my favorite of your guys’ albums.”

“Really?” He asked curiously, his eyes widened as he studied your expression, replaying the words in his head to scrutinize your tone. You simply nodded as you slotted yourself between his legs, your hand meeting the back of his neck as you lightly played with the ends of his dark brown hair.

“And speaking as a fan,” you told him, dipping your head to catch his eyes. “I know all the other fans loving it as well.”

Flashing you a honey boy smile as his cheeks tinted pink, you leaned down to press a sweet kiss to their plushness. “You did good, Honey Boy,” you complimented, a breathy chuckle sounding from the man as he relaxed in your touch, dropping his forehead to your sternum, leaving a light kiss to your chest through your shirt.

“Thank you,” he whispered shyly. He sometimes had a hard time vocalizing it, but your opinion meant everything to him.

Running your hands through the back of his hair, you shook your head. “Thank you,” you countered.

“For what?” He asked wrapping an arm around your waist, allowing his fingers to lightly trace indistinct patterns against your side.

“For inspiring me daily,” you told him, the man looking up at you with an expression of adorable surprise, making you smile and lean down to kiss his soft lips fondly. “With your talent and hard work and openness to express your vulnerabilities. I know there’s a lot of people out there who appreciate it, but don’t forget that I’m one of them,” you informed him, the man taking a deep breath before letting it out slowly.

Leaving a kiss to the tip of his nose, you trailed them up the bridge until your lips met his forehead, leaving a series of pecks against his warm skin. “What’s on your mind, Min?” You whispered before placing another kiss to his hair. Probably a lot. A major shoulder surgery, a new album, Grammy nominations coming, you were sure it was busy inside his head.

“How lucky I am to have you,” he revealed shyly but boldly, you nearly cooing instantly. “And how much I hate this fucking shoulder right now because I can’t just grab you and take you right here like I want to,” he partially joked. Oh jesus christ.

“Oh my god,” you laughed, lightly slapping his uninjured arm. “You know what? I’ve settled on what your three best skills are.”

“What are they?” He asked, pulling you the slightest bit closer as he smirked at you.

“Rapping, producing, and ruining cute moments,” you told him, the man immediately laughing as he pulled a feigned thinking face.

“Kind of thought rocking your world was gonna be one but I’ll take it,” he replied, you groaning as you pulled out of his grasp.

“Have I told you you’re annoying?” You teased, leaning toward him to steal a quick kiss before stepping away from him, the man slowly chasing after your lips as you backed away, reaching for you with his functional arm only to shoot you a pout when you returned to the other side of the island.

“Of course you have,” he smiled.

“Good,” you said simply, wearing a fond grin as you returned to cooking.

“You’re so cute in your pj’s,” you cooed as you helped button his top, preparing to get into bed. You had finished eating dinner earlier in the night and Yoongi had helped you with dishes by rinsing them with his one functional arm. “I should get a matching pair, how adorable would that be?” You teased, Yoongi shooting you a look of disgust. “What is that face? It would be cute,” you defended playfully, only for your boyfriend to hold the expression as if you committed an atrocity. “Stop it, don’t pretend like you hate the idea.”

“I do hate the idea,” he defended weakly, hiding a smile.

“Oh whatever, I know you, Min,” you reminded him with a glare, the man huffing as you giggled, securing the last button on his pajama top. “Ok,” you lightly patted the right side of his chest after securing the final button. “All done.”  

“Thanks,” he breathed out, watching as you reached for his shoulder brace. “I can put it on, Kid,” he told you, causing you to pause and stare at him. The two of you had been playfully fighting for weeks over taking care of him. The thing was, you both enjoyed you doting on the man a bit.

“I want to,” you pouted, Yoongi giving you a soft smile. Smirking in victory, you wiggled your hips happily just before you began placing his arm in the sling, Yoongi scoffing as he smiled.

As you adjusted the straps, ensuring his shoulder would be as comfortable and secure as possible, Yoongi watched you carefully. Fondly. When your eyes found his, catching him staring, he cleared his throat to play if off with an act of nonchalance.

“You know,” he started, determined to set your mind on something other than the fact that he had been staring at you with the softest smile you’d ever seen. “I’m beginning to get used to you waiting on me all the time,” he joked, you biting back a smile as you shook your head.

“Don’t you dare,” you warned him, pulling up on the velcro to resituate the strap.

“What?” He feigned innocence, his eyes widened with his lips secured in a small pout. You allowed yourself to smile as you let out a forced scoff to cover your amusement.

“Don’t you dare get used to it,” you told him sternly as he laughed silently, thoroughly amused and smitten. “You know what, just for that you can tuck yourself into bed,” you teased, walking away from him, Yoongi looking at you in pretend shock.

“Kid,” he whined with a smile as he watched you crawl under the covers, leaving the grown man to fend for himself.

Opening your laptop, you kept your eyes in a glare as Yoongi shuffled to the bed, staring at you with a pout as you resisted the urge to smile. “Stop looking at me, Min,” you told him, your straight face breaking as he chuckled, you giggling as you pulled up the Grammys website.

Carefully but lacking grace, Yoongi crawled into bed next to you and looked over your shoulder at the screen. “What time are they announcing nominations?”

“Um,” you looked at the time, doing the math in your head. “Should be around 2 or 3 am, so a couple hours. Do you want to get some sleep and set an alarm? Or do you want to wait up?” You asked, looking at him, reading the nervousness in his features instantly.

A soft smile overtook your face as he breathed out slowly. “Uh, I think wait up,” he nodded to himself. “Yeah, wait up.”

“Ok, baby,” you nodded back. His eyes were glued to the screen, and more specifically the gramophone displayed in the top left corner. You knew he wanted this. It was the highest honor a musician could receive for their work, so of course the boys wanted that. And you couldn’t think of anyone more deserving. Even when you stripped back all of the hard work and hardships, the years of struggles for credibility and spotlight under a new company with no money, defying the odds and breaking through as a worldwide act, the music was still amazing. The music is what gave you the intuitive confidence to assure your boyfriend that he had nothing to worry about. “You’re going to get nominated,” you assured him sincerly. “I can feel it.”

“Yeah?” He asked, his eyes slowly leaving the screen to meet your face, his cheeks looking plush and kissable in the glow of the computer monitor.

“Yeah,” you nodded, reaching for his face, gently placing your palm to his cheek, simply because you just had to feel their fluffiness on your fingertips. “And if you don’t, I’ll start drafting a letter to the recording academy immediately to scold them for committing the biggest snub in Grammys history,” you joked. Your lame humor was met with a highly amused gummy grin and an adorable shy giggle as he turned his face into your hand to kiss the inside of your wrist. “Between me and Army, just imagine all the scathing articles the recording academy will be met with,” you added, Yoongi chuckling further, the sound of his laughter making your belly feel warm and content.

“Well hopefully we’re nominated,” he said through his light laughter. “For two reasons,” he clarified, you raising your eyebrows curiously. “You’re scary when mad and also that would be very embarrassing to have my girlfriend send a letter to the recording academy on my group’s behalf,” he laughed more, you joining him as your hand slid to the side of his neck.

“Well then, they better nominate you,” you agreed just as Holly jumped onto the bed, nuzzling next to yours and Yoongi’s legs, both of you shooting fond grins at the little pup. 

You weren’t sure what time it was but the grogginess in your mind told you it was much too early to be awake yet. So why were you?

“Kid,” a hushed whisper sounded next to you, you groaning in response. “Kid, wake up, baby,” the voice sounded again.

“Hmm?” You hummed, still too tired to peel your eyes open.

“We fell asleep,” Yoongi told you, you humming again. “Kid, the nominations have been announced.”

At that statement, your eyes popped open, your hazy gaze searching for Yoongi. Blinking the sleep away, you squinted at your boyfriend as your eyes adjusted to being open. His face coming into clarity in the early morning hours, you studied his features, preparing to either celebrate or console. With a racing heart, you watched as his lips curved into a massive gummy smile, and tears pricked your eyes instantly.

“Oh my god,” you whispered huskily.

“We’re nominated for a Grammy,” he told you, the words hitting you with the force of reality causing you to shoot up from the covers startling Holly as you did so, the dog looking at you in confusion. 

“Oh my god, Yoongi,” you squealed, standing on your knees as you lightly bounced, trying to be careful not to create too much motion that you would hurt his shoulder, pumping your arms in the air gleefully. Holly jumped up, hopping against you for a moment. “Oh my god,” you screamed excitedly, Yoongi laughing as he let out a happy excited yell of his own. Holly leaped onto Yoongi’s lap, barking at the commotion, unaware that he was partaking in a celebration.  “Yoongi, oh my fucking god,” you yelled once more through Yoongi’s own excited squealing as he pet the dogs face giddily.

Showing you his phone, you skimmed through his group chat with the boys, the photo of the nomination taking center stage, the texts full of yells of excitement making you smile widely.  Another squeal left you as you dropped the phone and placed your hands to the sides of Yoongi’s face, Holly deciding to settle on your empty side of the bed next to you and Yoongi. “Baby, you’re nominated for a Grammy,” you told him, the words fully hitting Yoongi as it sunk in for the first time. You watched as his eyes became glassy, emotion overwhelming the man.

Crawling closer to your boyfriend, you placed yourself on his lap and wrapped an arm around the back of his neck, careful not to make contact with his recovering shoulder. Yoongi instantly rested his head against your shoulder and it didn’t take long to hear sniffles as he body shook, the man crying into the fabric of your pajama top.

“Oh, you did it, Min,” you whispered, kissing the top of his head a few times quickly as your fingers comfortingly toyed with his strands at the nape of his neck. “I’m so proud of you,” you spoke into his hair, the man’s arm wrapping around your waist to pull you firmly against his side as he continued to cry.

The two of you sat like that for a moment, the only sounds coming from you both being his silent sobs and your occasional kisses to his head and the whispered compliment on how deserving he was. There’s a special kind of happiness you feel when the people you love achieve a certain level of happiness themselves. And well, Yoongi was really happy in that moment. And you loved him more than anyone.

Eventually, his tears slowed and he looked up to you, finding you smiling down at him with your own lash closed to the brink of overflowing emotion. “Not to brag but,” you stared playfully, “I did tell you that you’d be nominated,” you teased, Yoongi chuckling as he craned his neck uncomfortably to find your lips. Watching you be so happy and supportive of him, he couldn’t quite relay his gratitude for you through words. He needed to show you.

Happily, you kissed him back, the meeting full of passion and love. The kiss was an act of sharing and relaying pride and excitement and relief and thankfulness, and just all the intense emotions hitting you both in that moment. It was slow but meaningful, the kiss full of intent but frantic and messy. It was perfect.

When he pulled away just slightly, he took a shaky breath, letting out a single breathy laugh of disbelief. “The recording academy must have felt the energy of your threat,” he joked, you shaking your head with a fond smile.

“Nah uh,” you told him. “This was all you guys.” Yoongi took a deep breath, letting it out slowly as you wiped under his eyes gently, ridding him of his tears. “You deserve this, Yoongi,” you assured him.

“I love you,” he told you as a soft honey boy smile graced his face.

Leaning down once again, you kissed his lips softly. “I love you too,” you whispered against his mouth. “My Grammy nominated Honey Boy,” you smiled, Yoongi chuckling as he connected his lips to yours once again.

[jordanstrophe]

Be a Good Guest, part 4

**I’m tired, so if there’s typos shh, we don’t see them**

CW: Whump, captivity, punishment belting, glass shard wounds, blood, escape attempt, manhandling, dragging, creepy/parental whumper, restraints, forced to repeat rules

MASTERLIST

Night fell as Gabriel sat on the floor, his arms and head laying against the couch cushions. He held the butter knife tucked against the side of his arm. Walter was off in the house somewhere rustling around, moving furniture, hammering nails, rattling equipment. He didn’t tell him what he was making, but he knew it was for him, a “surprise” he called it. His spine shivered every time he thought about it, his heart was constantly elevated and pounding in his chest. It never seemed to calm down since the car crash. 

He slunk off the couch, sitting next to the hook his leg was shackled to as he wedged the butter knife into the wood gaps. Every time there was a loud banging noise from Walter, Gabriel would use the knife as a lever to slowly pull off splinters of wood, some making an occasional cracking sound. 

A big chuck of wood snapped off, flipping in the air as he flinched back. He already had a few splinters in his hand, he would rather not have one in his eye. He pulled at the metal loop, wiggling it around to see if it could come free yet, to his surprise, he felt a faint pop as one side had come loose. He took an excited shuddering breath, unbelieving that it was finally, finally happening.

He desperately jostled it back and forth, as it let out a high-pitch squeaking noise grinding against the wood. He almost got carried away until he noticed Walter’s hammering had stopped. 

Silence.

Please don’t come out. Of all the times, please don’t come out now.

He heard him scooting furniture around again as he took a sigh of relief.

He forced the hook back and forth until one side popped off. He gasped when adrenaline shot through his body, his hands trembled uncontrollably as he slipped the chain off it. He jumped to his feet, wrapping the chain around his arm as he kept nervously glancing down the hall.

He tiptoed to the door, looking up at the dozens of locks clamping it closed. He tried to unlatch them as slowly as possible, light clattering kept escaping with every move. This was impossible to do silently, but he was so close. He wanted so badly to just rip all the latches open and run, but there was still time to mess this up. 

He froze when he realized the house was silent. Too silent. 

“Gabriel?” A voice called. 

He jumped out of his skin when he heard his name being called. He whirled around in a panic until he grabbed the first thing closest to him, a tiny almost doll-like chair as he hoisted it over his head, staggering over to the window. It’s now or never...

He slammed the chair into the glass as hard as he could, it shattered and crumbled to the floor in fractures. He heard his name being yelled as he threw himself out the window, shards of glass remaining around the window slicing his arms and legs. He was still barefoot, as the dirt beneath him was cold as ice. The grass wasn’t any better as he ran, ignoring the blood running down his arm, the freezing air chilling his skin, the heavy chain still clamped around his leg and around his arm. 

It was dark, he was barely dodging the silhouettes of trees but he could just see the break where the road was where his car had crashed. Sure enough the car was long gone. He climbed the hill about half way till his foot slipped, hitting the ground as the chain fell from his arms. He hesitated, glancing behind him at the chain loosely dragging behind him, but pulled himself back up and kept going.

He gasped when his foot was snagged back, turning around to realize the chain had got caught on a root. 

“Gabriel!”

His voice echoed through the woods not far. But he was so close! His heart sunk when the voice called again, getting closer, he could see a faint light in the distance from his lantern. He scrambled and hid behind a tree, back pressed against the rough bark as he gasped for air. He closed his fingers around his mouth to try and quiet his breathing as he trembled. There was no time to go back and unhook it without being seen, his best chance was to stay out of sight until he hopefully passed. 

He jolted when he heard leaves crunching behind him. He felt his hands were soaked with something as he held it up. Was that blood? But nothing hurt... He shook the thoughts from his head as the crunching got closer. It stopped just a few feet behind him, as silence fell upon the woods. Nothing could be heard aside from the crickets chattering and the owl hooting. 

Gabriel shouted with fear when the chain around his ankle yanked him from behind the tree. He skidded to the ground as Walter continued to drag him all the way down the hill. Walter was muttering and grumbling to himself inaudibly as he worked to pull Gabriel's struggling arms behind him, wrapping the loose chain around his wrists. Gabriel was screaming, crying and whimpering with his face in the dirt. Walter kept him pinned down with his weight until he bent him back off the ground, hoisting him over his shoulder. 

“LET ME GO!” Gabriel screamed from his shoulder, pointlessly squirming around. Walter had both arms wrapped around his thighs to keep his legs still as he carried him home, the chain clanging together with every kick. He was dumped onto the floor, slamming the front door shut behind him as Walter stood over him furiously.

“What do you think you’re doing!? Smashing the window, running off like that! How did you even get the hook off?!” He screamed at him.

“Don’t you ever do that again! You me?! Don’t ev-” His voice was cut off as he looked down as his own hands, dripping with blood. “Wha-?” He whispered, turning his hands as with a puzzled look. He glanced down at Gabriel, who was  helplessly collapsed on the ground at his feet, shaking uncontrollably and panting.

“Oh little one...” He gasped, staring at the bleeding man at his feet, blood pooling down his arm with a glass shard poking out.

“What am I going to do with you.” He sighed, shaking his head with a finger and thumb rubbing on the bridge of his nose. 

“Y-you could... L-let me go?” He rasped, his voice shivering. 

“Oh Gabriel, just look at you! You’re a mess! I took my eyes off you for just a few hours, and this happened! You’re bleeding...” He sighed, dropping to his knees, gently taking his hand in his, turning his arm to assess the damage. 

Gabriel let off a whimper, turning his head to hide his face. Walter was silent for a while, before reaching over to take Gabriel's chin to tilt it up. 

“Little one, this can never happen again. I can’t have you running off like that at every chance you get and hurting yourself! This is why you stay here, safe, with me.” He said, his voice stern full of concern. Gabriel's lip quivered as he only stared up at him with sad fearful eyes. 

“So, as much as I want to say you already got a punishment based on your arms alone, to prevent you from hurting yourself any worse, I’m going to teach you a lesson.” He said, abruptly standing to his feet, grabbing hold of his arm and ripping him to his feet.

“Wha-?” Gabriel squeaked out before he was drug into the basement. His feet fumbling behind him as he was pulled down the stairs. 

“Wait... Wait.. Wait, Wait!!” Gabriel yelled, his gut feeling getting worse, and worse the more he realized what was happening. The room was almost pitch black, as he was thrown to the floor, his knees hitting the cold floor. Nothing could be heard but the echoing of his heavy breathing as his arms were tied in front of him to a beam. 

“Now my first instinct is to bandage you up and toss you in a bath.” His voice spoke as he fumbled with something. “But since you’ll just a liiiitle bit more bloody, I’d rather do this now.” 

“Do what?! What are you doing?” Gabriel cried. He didn’t know why tears were already running down his face. But deep down, he already knew what was going to happen, he just wasn’t ready to admit it. He pressed his face against the beam, sobbing with exhaustion. A small light flickered on above him as he squinted around, Walter was behind him somewhere.

“I want you to repeat back what I say.” He instructed, grabbing Gabriel's shirt to pull it up around his shoulders.

“I-I’m not d-doing anything for you!” He shuttered back, the cold getting to him. 

“I want you to say, I will not run.” 

“You’re craz-!” His words were cut off with a cry as a belt struck his back. He broke into a sob as his body cringed, slowly slinking further to the floor.

“Say it.” He hissed. 

Gabriel was silent for too long as another strike slashed across his back. He cried out as he helplessly twisted his body against the restraints around his wrists. 

“One more chance.” His voice growled. 

“I WILL NOT RUN!” He cried, his voice cracking. Walter smiled, letting out a satisfied sigh. 

“I will behave, and do as I’m told.” He grinned. Gabriel's heart sank, how much more did he want from him? He heard the belt rattle in his hands as he flinched, immediately whimpering “I’ll b-behave and d-d- as I’m t-t-told.” He stuttered. 

He let off another flinch when he heard the belt drop to the ground, his back burning and stinging. The man had a strong arm and didn’t hold back, he would give him that. 

He cried hysterically as he was taken down from the beam, the man cradling him in his arms, stroking his hair and thumbing the blood from his face.

“Was that so hard now?” He cooed. 

“Come on, you’re alright. Let's get you cleaned up and taken care of now.”

@alien-octopus @yesthisiswhump  @lave-whump @whumpasaurus101 @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @hamiltonwhumpdump @just-another-whumper @castielamigos-whump-side-blog @approach-me-and-ill-cry

ʕっ• ᴥ • ʔっ  Thank you for reading!

[bridgyrose]

Ruby chuckled a bit as she watched Penny shove forkful after forkful of food into her mouth, practically moaning after each bite. “You should slow down. If you eat to fast-” 

Penny started coughing after a bit, trying to dislodge a chunk of meat that got stuck. “H-how… how do you do this?” 

“By eating slowly and taking your time. But humans arent meant to eat that quick.” Ruby sat down next to Penny, giving her a soft smile. “I know you’re getting a lot of new sensations, but its okay to take things slowly.” 

Penny nodded, feeling her heart start to beat faster as she looked at Ruby in her own body. She wasnt fond of the idea of having feelings for her own body, but knowing it was Ruby… She looked away and blushed a bit, putting a hand to her cheeks as she felt her face warm up. “R-right. Maybe… maybe you can help do this right. I mean, if I have to be you for right now-” 

“Of course I will,” Ruby replied, gently picking up the fork and knife and trying not to break them. “Besides, your father told us we need to try to keep others from noticing what’s going on. If they ever find out-” 

“Find out what, Penny?” 

Ruby nearly jumped as she turned around, giving a nervous smile to Ciel. “O-oh, you know, just… spending a bit of time with my girlfriend.” 

“And you’re approximately-” Ciel pulled out her pocket watch and let out a sigh. “-an hour late for our training session. I’ve been looking around all over for you.” 

Penny flinched a bit, not realizing that she had forgotten about the training session with everything that had gone on. “Right, I should get-” 

Ruby quickly covered Penny’s mouth, giving a nervous chuckle. “I’m sorry, I had forgotten all about it. A uh… mission came up and ‘R-Ruby’ and I were needed to clear out grimm.” A hiccough escaped her mouth, causing her to immediately put a hand to her mouth in slight embarrassment. “It will not happen again. I’m sure we could reschedule-” 

Ciel grabbed the back of “Penny’s” shirt and started dragging her off to the training room. “We do not have time to reschedule this. It’s unlike you to forget about something you had promised, but we’ll make up for the lost time.” 

Penny sighed as she watched Ruby get dragged off, slumping a bit in her seat. “I will have to make this up to Ruby.” She stood up to follow, only to be stopped by a hand on her shoulder. 

“And where do you think you’re going, Runt?” asked Harriet. “You and I have a training mission scheduled.” 

Penny paused for a moment, trying to figure out what to say. She very well couldnt tell Harriet that she wasnt Ruby, mostly because she knew Harriet wouldnt believe her, but that would also be throwing Ruby under the proverbial bus. But she couldnt exactly say she was Ruby because that wasnt exactly true either. “I… am needed by the General-” 

“Wrong answer, kid.” Harriet deployed her weapon, using the exo-skeleton arms to pick “Ruby” up and drag her away for the mission. “You said you wanted to work on your speed and now’s the best time to do so.” 

Penny struggled to get free, no longer feeling the strength her other body had given her. She gave up after a few seconds of struggling, letting out a heavy sigh. “I… alright…” 

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

General Ironwood pinched the bridge of his nose as he looked over what was left of the experimental rocket that was supposed to get Amity just enough altitude to send a message to the rest of the world. “Let me get this straight: you destroyed this in order to free it from a geist that had made it part of its body?” 

Weiss looked away, hesitating for a moment as she tried to get her words together. “W-well, it wasnt exactly… us…” 

“There was already some sort of explosion from the dust.” Blake pulled out her scroll and showed a few pictures of the site she took. “Considering what Ruby and Penny had gone through, we’re pretty sure the rocket was the cause of the explosion.” 

Ironwood nodded and let out a sigh, turning away from the rocket and looking out the window behind his desk. “And how are Miss Polendina and Miss Rose doing? They’re still recovering, correct?” 

Yang nodded. “They’re both recovering but I’m not sure they’re fit for combat right now. Still a bit shaken up from the explosion and Ruby has a wound in her side-” 

“Then I’ll let Doctor Polendina know that he has full access to anything he needs to get them both back on their feet. We need Amity to work if we’re going to defeat Salem. And when you see Ruby, send her up to my office.” 

“Y-yes sir.” Yang took a deep breath and started walking out of Ironwood’s office, her prosthetic shaking a bit. 

Blake noticed and gently took her hand to try to keep her calm. “Everything’s going to be alright. You said it yourself, Ruby and Penny are recovering-” 

“That’s not it.” 

Weiss looked at Yang curiously. “Then what is it?” 

Yang quickly moved Blake and Weiss to a quiet spot in the hallway, making sure no one was listening in. “Ruby and Penny arent… exactly themselves anymore.” 

Blake sighed. “You’re going to have to explain what you mean. Did something happen to make them lose their memories?” 

“N-no, they’re literally not themselves.” Yang hesitated for a moment, trying to find the right words. “They uh… their minds are… switched.” 

Weiss blinked a couple times, keeping a straight face as she spoke up. “They… switched minds?” 

“I know it sounds crazy but Ruby is Penny and Penny is Ruby. I… I dont know how it happened but it had to be something in that explosion with that rocket. You saw the dust and even you couldnt recognize some of it.” 

Weiss thought back to the geist they saw, trying to remember what dust was attached to it. There was plenty she knew she recognized, but then again, some of the dust didnt reflect the light quite right. Almost like they shined in a kaleidoscope of colors… 

Blake shook her head and started walking back to the dorms. “I’m sure you’re just imagining-” She stopped in her tracks as “Penny” flew through the wall, nearly hitting her. 

“Penny” rubbed the back of her head, letting out a sigh. “How does she control these things…?” She turned her head and smiled as she saw her team. “Hey guys… er… I mean… Sal-u-tations! Did you find the rocket?” 

Blake and Weiss both turned to stare at Yang, who had a smug smile on her face. 

“Yeah, we found it.” Yang walked over to help “Penny” up, shaking her head and keeping her voice in a low whisper. “I thought you were supposed to be trying to keep a low profile until we figured out how to fix this, Rubes.” 

“I’m sorry but there isnt exactly an instruction manual-” 

“*Manual download commencing,*” chimed a voice in Ruby’s head. 

Ruby paused for a moment as letters and data flashed in front of her eyes, filling her mind with everything she needed to operate her new body. “Okay… nevermind. Guess there is one.” 

Weiss slowly walked closer. “R-Ruby? Is that really you in there?” 

Ruby instinctively saluted to Weiss, giving a smile. “Ruby Rose reporting for duty. Now if you will excuse me, I need to show Ciel that I’m combat ready!” Without a delay, Ruby rushed back to the training room, letting her floating array out and using it to guide herself through the walls. 

Blake hesitated as she watched, slowly raising a finger. “Should… we be concerned?” 

Yang nodded, turning around to thead to Peitro’s lab. “We should let Pietro know what’s going on.”

[lazuli-bloom]

Roses and Styx

Chapter 2 – The Man In The Rotting Suit

Beetlejuice x Reader

Word Count : 5051

You get to go home early, which is nice. Now if only you could shake that guy from the graveyard. It doesn't help that no one else is able to even see him. There has to be some way to get rid of him, right?

Last Chapter | Archive | Next Chapter

--=--=--

Deep breaths. Inhale through the nose, and exhale through the mouth. You're fine. Just ignore the man grinning at you seated in your passenger seat. Everything was normal and fine. He's not really there.

"So, where to, babes?"

You sucked a long sharp breath and glanced over to the delusion. He definitely looked at home in a graveyard, with the patches of moss on pale skin and sporting a frayed suit coated in dirt and grime. The man flashed you another grin showing off sharp teeth that likely have never seen a toothbrush.

You pinched the bridge of your nose and ignored the apparition while you get your shitty car started. A few minutes later, the car clanged and sputtered awake. You shoot whatever was in your passenger seat a glare before pulling out of the small lot and headed home.

The man next to you groaned after you passed the first stoplight. You glanced over to him. He crossed his arms, and wore a frown on his face. The green color in his hair dulled from when he was in the store. His tone looked to be a more purple hue.

"Come on, babes, I know you can see and hear me!"

You stayed silent and tapped your fingers on the steering wheel while stopped at a red light. He was right—much to your vexation—you could perceive him. In more ideal circumstances you'd seek professional help from a doctor or therapist, but that costs money. So you're forced to bank on the hope that ignoring the delusion makes him disappear.

He huffed and pouted more. "You have no idea how long it's been since anyone could see me. I ain't leaving so soon."

You press your lips tighter into a line and kept your eyes on the road. His peculiar wording bounced around in your head for the next few stops. Soon that bled into playing the events of the funeral. He was there, bugging the mourners and going unnoticed.

"Fine. What are you?"

You catch the dimmer purple wash away from his hair and brighten to a vivid green.

"Aw babes, I knew you'd come around!"

"Please answer the question."

"Oh, and so polite! Alright sweets, since you asked so nicely; I am a ghost!"

You spared a glance over to him as you turned onto the dingy road leading to your apartment. The skeptic in you wanted to counter and say that wasn't possible, but you doubted voicing that would magically make your unwanted passenger disappear.

"Alright then, mister ghost, why are you following me?"

"Already told ya, you're the first breather able to see me in a long time."

"So, are you planning to haunt me? Make my life worse than it already is? Because so help me god I'll kick your ass straight to Hell if you try."

You parked your car and turned, giving him a pointed glare. His citrine eyes lit up as his grin stretched so large it threatened to split his face.

"Feisty! I like that in a breather."

You grumbled under your breath and looked around the parking lot. Your car was one of maybe four parked there. There weren't any milling tenets out, either. Nevertheless, you weren't keen on staying out in your car the entire day talking to a ghost.

"I'm going inside. If you want to follow me, then you're going to have to answer my questions. Got it?"

"Anything you want, babes."

You breathed out through your nose and unbuckled yourself. As you stepped out you caught sight of the ghost floating out the front of your car where he waited for you on the curb. He stuffed his hands into his pockets as he rolled back, putting his weight on his heels. The ghost flashed you another grin, and you doubted any good could come from this.

No second guesses or weaseling out by that point. You told him to follow you as you made your way to the apartment. Up the flight of stairs and to the end of the hall, you were almost home free.

"Parker!"

The harsh rasp of a smoker shouted at you. Every fiber of your being tensed up, and you fought to put on a smile in front of the dragon. She marched up to you with narrow eyes locked on you.

"Hi Donna."

"Who the hell left your apartment yesterday? I swear if you're smuggling a roommate in there I'm going to raise your rent."

"That was my friend, Sam. They're moving and stopped by to say goodbye. Wait, how did you know Sam even visited? Didn't you go out last night?"

"I got complaints about you."

You keep your mouth shut for the moment. This was a conversation you preferred not to drag out. You simply nodded to her as you carefully thought over your next words.

"Sam only dropped by to say goodbye."

"And who is 'Cassie'?"

You tensed up to the point your muscles could turn to stone any minute. Your nails dug into the palms of your hands and you struggled to keep up a friendly act.

"They're a co-worker."

Donna huffed at you, followed by a sneer showing off tobacco-stained teeth. She waved you off and turned, pulling out her smokes as she left. Donna uttered an insult your way before descending the stairs.

"Ain't she a delight."

You whipped your attention to the gravelly voice and found the specter with narrowed eyes pointed at the landing. His brow and nose scrunched up as he glared and you noted odd flecks of red in his hair.

You got your keys out and unlocked your door. "She's a bitch, but this apartment was the best I could afford. Easier to just grin and bear it."

"You know sweets, we could help one another with our problems." He said. You raise a brow at him before you stepped into the apartment. While he didn't exactly need you to, you stepped to the side and held the door open for him. "Babes, you are adorable. I'd give ya a big ol' 'thank you' kiss if I could."

"Please don't," you said, closing the door.

He let out a hardy laugh and then winked your way. You frowned and leaned against the wall with crossed arms. He scanned over the apartment while you studied him. The ghost's ragged appearance gave the impression that he recently crawled out of the grave. His pale skin grew bits of moss that blended into his hair. Dark rings circled his amber eyes. And a layer of rot and grime coated his odd frayed suit.

"Like what ya see, sweets?"

Heat rushed to your face, and you furrowed your brow at that. "You could use a bath."

"You breathers and bathing. What's even the point of it?"

"Health. It cleans away dead skin, and any diseases stuck on you, helps with sore muscles and aches, and can just help improve your mood overall."

"Shit. I didn't expect you to actually have an answer."

"Had one or two school wide lessons back in high school telling the kids that body spray was not a substitute for a shower."

He blinked at you. He shrugged a moment later and took a step closer, with his hands behind his back. "Anyway, back to my point. I think we can help each other out."

"How?"

"You and me could get rid of that awful hag! Decapitation, eaten alive by rats, electrocution, I'm open to suggestions!"

"Real casual with murder, huh? Yeah, no, not interested."

"Wait! Okay, it doesn't have to be murder. I could scare her so bad that she runs off and never comes back! We can workshop that later. But first I need you to say my name!"

"What would saying your name do to 'help'? And I don't know your name, you never said it."

The nameless ghost rolled his eyes and heaved out a sigh. Did the dead still need to breathe? That didn't seem right.

"Right now I can't affect much of anything. You saw how that guy walked right through me, right?"

You nodded.

"But if you say my name three times, I get my powers back and won't be stuck being invisible." There was a certain excitement in his tone when he said that. One that lit up his amber eyes with... something.

Your lips twitch downward as you mulled over his words. He said earlier you were the first person to see him in a long time. How long you couldn't be sure without asking, but truly any stretch of time sounded so lonely. However, you couldn't just let him have free range to do whatever he pleased. He already proposed murder as means of dealing with your landlady. This ghost could be impossibly destructive if unleashed.

"I don't know. How can I—"

A vicious yowl made you jump. It came from the other side of the wall.

"Shit!"

You rushed around the corner and opened the bathroom door. A white blur ran past you to the underside of the coffee table. Aqua colored eyes glared at you, only to shift focus in the ghost's direction.

You ignored that for the moment and instead turned your attention to the bathroom. The smell hit you first, the acrid scent of cat piss. You groaned as you looked over the state of the bathroom. The toilet paper shredded in tethers on the cheap linoleum, food and water bowls flipped with contents scattered, and a yellow puddle next to the litter box. Fantastic.

"Why was your cat locked in the bathroom?"

"I'm pet-sitting for a friend, and I can't have pets in the apartment," You said while you dug out the cleaning supplies from under the sink. "I'm keeping him mostly confined to the bathroom, so it's not obvious a cat's here for two weeks."

"Why are you pet-sitting if you can't have pets here?"

"Because my friend couldn't board their cat anywhere else. They promised me a couple hundred bucks to do it too, so I bit the bullet."

"If you're hard up for cash, I know an easier way to get it."

You glanced back at him with a raised brow but kept quiet to focus on cleaning. A minute later, once cleaned of Rigel's mess, you tossed the toilet paper in the bathroom trash and asked, "And what method would that be?"

"Just taking it! I won't get caught, babes, and even if I did, there's nothing a breather could do about it. Come on, all you gotta do is say my name three times in a row!"

You stay quiet for a minute as you washed your hands. You dried your hands and turned to face him, saying once more, "I don't know your name."

"Well, I can't say it."

"What? What do you mean?"

"I'm cursed. I can't say my own name."

"Is it... Rumpelstiltskin?"

"Sweets, that hurts. You really think my sexy self could be that little imp?"

"Well, other than taking more shots in the dark, how else would I figure out your name?"

"We could..." He trailed off, scratching the stubble on his chin. His face lit up a moment later as he said, "We could play a game or something so you can figure it out!"

His grin stretched wide as he wore an earnest hope on his features. It was rather sweet, strangely enough, and made the notion of turning him down seem harsh. You mulled over your decision. While you didn't want to say no, you weren't keen on agreeing either. If you said yes, he'd expect you to say his name afterwards.

"And if I figure out your name, then what? Setting you free doesn't seem like a smart idea."

He instantly deflated when he heard that. Smile gone, brows furrowed. Even the vibrancy of his green hair looked like it dulled to a blueish purple. He looked crushed, and knowing you caused it struck you with a bit of guilt. You couldn't blindly trust him, but you didn't want to see him so hurt.

"Look. We just met. How do I know I can trust you?"

"Cause we're BFFFFs Forever!"

"B-F-F—... You want to be friends?"

He nodded vigorously, with a glimmer of hope rekindled in his eyes. Your guts twisted into tighter and tighter knots the longer he gave you the lost puppy look. If he truly was alone and unseen for any stretch of time, then desperately wanting a friend made sense. And for whatever strange reason, you were the one able to see him.

"Okay. I'll make you a deal. We can be friends, but I won't free you until you've earned my trust. If I feel like I can trust you by the end of the month, then I'll say your name."

His grin reappeared, showing off sharp yellowed teeth. His hair also grew to a vibrant green. "Aw babes, you're the best! We are going to be great friends!"

You gave him a half smile, finding his excitement endearing if not a tad contagious. You finished up with cleaning the rest of the mess, and while doing so, you threw out a few more guesses of what his name might be. They were all wrong, but "Cthulhu" got a laugh out of him.

Once done with tidying the bathroom, you check on the furball under the shoddy coffee table. The devil cat hissed at you and swiped a clawed paw at you for daring to get so close. His eyes were thin slits and seemed to shift between yourself and somewhere behind you. You followed his gaze and landed on the ghost. You even asked him to move and the cat's gaze followed him.

"Huh. Looks like Rigel can see you."

"Rigel?"

"The fuzz-bucket of pure rage over here. His name is Rigel."

"Like the star in Orion?"

"Yeah, actually. The bright white star, that's why Sam named him that."

"Do you know any other stars in Orion?"

"Not off-hand. Why?"

"Eh... can't say."

You raised a brow at him. You wanted to find out the other stars in the constellation after he asked that—but with no internet access at the apartment or even a smartphone, you couldn't do that. All you owned was a cheap little prepaid flip phone straight out of the early aughts.

You shrugged it off and made a note to search that the next day on the store's computer. In the meantime, you sat down on the couch, kicking your shoes off to pull your feet up too. You didn't want to take the chance of that cat getting ballsy and going after you.

"So Mr. Whatsyourname, how am I going to figure out your name?"

He floated down to the other end of the couch and shrugged. You pressed your lips tight and hummed in thought as you worked out a means to find out his name.

"Well, playing twenty questions is getting us nowhere. Then again, throwing out random guesses isn't how you play that, but whatever. You can't spell it out, can you?"

"No, I suck at spelling it. And I can't, cause that would count as telling you it."

"Hmm, do you think you could use pictures to 'spell' it? Like using—a fly, a car, and a dog, to get the result of a flying carpet?"

"That might work, but I can't affect things, babes."

"But I can. Give me a sec, I'll get some paper." You rushed off to your bedroom and come back with a pencil and sketch pad. You took your seat back on the couch and turned to sit side by side with the ghost rather than facing him. "Alright, you tell me what shapes to draw."

You flipped to a blank page, skipping the older pages filled with various sketches and doodles. Once you got to a clean page, you held the book at an angel he could easily see.

The first thing he said to draw was a rectangle, a narrow one standing upright. Then a shorter and much thinner one at the top of the first. Followed by a third the same size as the second but connecting with it at an angle.

"Is that a juice box?"

"Nix the box."

"Juice?"

He nodded with a Cheshire grin. "Great! Now draw a circle on the front of the box."

You did so, as well as draw the six lines going out from the circle like he asked.

"Bug?"

"No, more specific. Draw lines on it in a 'T' shape."

You drew the segments on the bug, which gave it a distinct head and a line along its back. You look over the drawing and ask, "Is it a beetle?"

"Yes!"

"Beetle... juice?"

"Yes! You got it!"

You hum to yourself and look over the picture more. Such a strange name. Was that his name in life, too? Or did he get a new name upon death? Does everyone? Can you choose your name?

"I can see why your name's Art."

You shook out of your thoughts and jerked your head to the ghost—Beetlejuice—sitting beside you. You huffed a small laugh and closed the sketchbook.

"That's not my name."

"But that guy at the store—"

"I don't put my real name on my apron."

"Okay, Parker—"

"Not my name either."

"What? But that bitch called you Parker."

"I don't want people knowing my name. So, I don't give out my real name."

"Not even to your BFFFF Forever?"

"How about instead of telling you, you try to guess it? No hints either."

Beetlejuice groaned and whined at that, but you didn't budge. You instead gave him a sly smile of your own. He puffed out his cheeks and glared at you, and you did your best to not break into laughter. How was that disheveled ghost able to look so cute?

"Babes, tell me! You know my name now, I want to know yours."

"I had to play a game to figure out your name, only fair you have to do the same to learn mine."

"I'm cursed though. I can't say my name. Well, my middle name anyway."

You blinked and tilted your head as you processed his last comment. His middle name? How odd. You shrugged at him and said, "You can either try to figure out my name or maybe if I end up trusting you, I'll tell you. But for now, you don't need it."

"Then what the hell am I supposed to call you?"

"You've been doing just fine with nicknames like—babes, sweets, and breather."

"Fine. But I want to know your name at some point."

"When I'm more comfortable, it's a personal thing. What about you, though? Can I call you by a nickname?"

"Sure! You could use—sexy, or handsome, or hot stuff."

"Or none of those," you said, shaking your head. You did your best not to crack and laugh. "How about Beetle, or Bug? Simple and sweet."

"You think I'm sweet?" He asked with a purr that caused your face to burn.

"I think you're weird, and strange, but not the most terrible at least."

"I'll take it!"

There was that bright smile again. Wide and full of sharp teeth. This ghost was a very perplexing being. The more you saw his smile, the more your own lips curled into a smile of your own.

"Okay, so if you're going to hang around here, we should set up some ground rules and get other things squared away. Like—I don't want you going in my bedroom unless I invite you in and stay out of the bathroom too."

"Aw, that's no fun."

"Do you sleep or anything?"

"I can, but I don't need to. Same goes for food when I'm not stuck being invisible."

"Can you affect anything while you're like that? Lights? Electronics?"

"No. The air gets cold around me. Other than that, can't do much of anything while invisible."

You nodded with a small frown. That must be so boring—stuck watching the world go by, unable to affect anything or even seen by anyone. That experience didn't sound pleasant. As much as you wanted to keep a low profile, you couldn't bear to be that level of unnoticed.

"Well..." you said, getting your thoughts back on track, "If you don't need to sleep, what do you want to do while I'm asleep? You want me to set up a movie for you in the living room? Or I guess you could go snoop around the other apartments and see what everyone else is doing. Lord knows there's always someone awake in this place no matter the hour."

"You're giving me a free pass to spy on your neighbors?"

"You said you can't affect anything other than making it cold, so I don't see a problem. Hell maybe if you annoy enough people with cold spots Donna will have to deal with a bunch of complaints. Maybe she'll even waste money trying to fix things, that'd be fun."

"We are going to be such great friends."

You huffed out a small laugh. As strange as he was—and maybe a little too gung ho with murdering your landlady—Beetlejuice seemed like he would make for... interesting company.

You checked the time on your phone. Five in the afternoon. Only an hour left of your shift. Well, if you hadn't left early. You tossed your phone on the coffee table with a clatter. Your action earned a venomous hiss from Rigel.

"So, um, if you don't need to sleep but can, do you want me to set up the couch as a bed? I don't have anywhere else to set one up and if Donna thinks I have other people living here, she's going to be pissed."

"Good thing I'm dead."

You pursed your lips and rolled your eyes. "Well yeah, technically. Existing here then, which dead or alive; you do exist. And that would still piss off Donna."

He huffed and narrowed his eyes, but glanced away from you. "I know you said you want to trust me first, sweets, but I could do a helluva lot more than just annoy her with cold spots. Just give me a chance!"

"I don't know... I don't like her but I don't think that would be a good idea." You sat looking blankly at the couch cushions as you hummed in thought. Even if he had good intentions going in—or more accurately, intentions that benefited you—things could go wrong and land you in a worse spot. Good intentions paved the road to Hell, after all.

"Babes, please, I'm begging. Ya gotta let me do something! I can even hold back on hurting her if that's what you want! I'll just scare the shit out of her!"

You thought over the proposition, and it sounded enticing. You tapped a finger against your cheek as various scenarios of Donna, scared out of her mind, played out. "That does sound fun, maybe later—Wait! It's October!"

"It is? Huh. I thought it was still July."

"Wait what? How...?"

"When you've been around for over a millennium, you stop bothering to keep tabs on time."

"A millennium? That's, holy crap. Okay, I have questions, but first what I was originally saying; It's October. So that means at the end of the month is Halloween. So, what if, if things go well and I trust you by then we plan a big scare for this All Hallows' Eve?"

The ghost shot up, bouncing on the couch. The sudden movement freaked out Rigel enough for him to scurry off to another hiding spot. "Hell yes! Babes, you're the best!" This ghost vibrated with barely contained excitement and you could have sworn he was glowing green.

You held up your hand to hold in a laugh. Beetlejuice radiated a pure joy that was not only endearing but also infectious. While precious to see him so happy, you asked him to compose himself and sit. Incorporeal or not, it’s difficult to carry a conversation while a ghost jumped on the furniture.

He sank back and sat on the couch, though he chose the arm of the couch as his seat. He faced you, still sporting a grin and vibrant green hue, and you couldn't stop smiling at this happy dork. Wanting to keep your discussion going, you cleared your throat and picked things back up with a question.

"You said you've been around for a millennium. So does that mean you lived during the... eleventh century?"

"I was around then, but I've never been alive. I was born dead."

"Born dead? Do... you mean like a stillborn?"

"Not in the way you're thinking. I'm a demon straight from Hell."

"You're a demon-ghost? Ghost-demon?"

"Both, yeah. But enough about me, as great as I am. How'd a pretty little breather like you end up in this shitty apartment?"

You frown and grabbed at your sleeve, not wanting to look him in the eye anymore. "It's kinda complicated and I don't want to go into all of it. I'm just... scraping my life back together and this place is the best I can afford right now." You stayed quiet for a moment before looking back at the ghost. The vibrant joy on his features faded drastically. Guilt stung in your heart for dampening the mood and offered the best masking smile you could muster. You weren't sure it looked all that convincing.

Beetlejuice stayed quiet a moment longer before a smirk pulled at his lips. "Well, now you know who you can call if ya need help dealing with a few problems."

"The ghostbusters?" You asked and cracked a genuine smile.

"Pff. Them? Nah, babe, the ghost with the most! Just gotta say my name three times, spoken unbroken!"

The self proclaimed "ghost with the most" puffed out his chest in a bid to look impressive. It earned a soft chuckle out of you.

"I'll keep that in mind."

A low growl filled the room. Heat seared your cheeks as you wrapped an arm over your stomach. Lunch wasn't as filling as you had hoped. You sighed and stood with a stretch. If you didn't make dinner soon, you'll end up nauseous from hunger later.

Your new familiar spirit stayed put sitting on the arm of the couch. However, when you glanced back at him, his head turned around to face you. It unnerved you, and the longer you looked at him the worse the feeling got.

You shook it off as best you can and headed to the fridge, which hid behind a wall jutting out to separate the living room and kitchen. And right then doubled as a divider that blocked you from view of the couch.

Once you dug out the mixed vegetables from the freezer, you turned and caught sight of a large blur on your counter. You seized up, knees locking, and heard a loud laugh bellow out.

"Aw babes, you should've seen the look on your face."

Beetlejuice wiped away some tears, then snapped his fingers. You blinked a few times, unsure what to think of seeing your face on his body. He twisted his—your? features into an expression of shock before cackling. Your mouth hung open, but you couldn't find any words. So you just shook your head and carried on making dinner.

As you worked on getting your dinner prepared, you pick back up the conversation. You and Beetlejuice took turns asking questions to get to know one another. Beetlejuice opened by sharing about his banishment—no clear details, just stated the fact it happened. He also said he got a kick out of the spread of the bubonic plague through Europe.

You grabbed a bowl and poured in your steaming dinner. The savory flavoring of the noodles mixed with the thawed vegetables and wafted in the air. Once you turned the stove off, you sat back on the couch. In between bites, you divulged a few minor details about yourself, like how you've worked for Mr. Turner close to a year and a half, and your hope to one day work in a haunted house attraction. That topic piqued Beetlejuice's interest.

"So, you get to scare people. As a job?"

"Y-yeah. I've thought being a haunted house actor could be a lot of fun. But there's no acting job close enough willing to pay the rate I'd need to make it worth it. And it's seasonal. So it's gotta stay a dream job."

You ate your noodles and mixed vegetables, allowing the specter to take over the conversation and regale you with various stories. One of his stories got you to laugh so hard you ended up swallowing wrong. It took a minute of coughing and sputtering before you stopped choking on your food. You cleared your throat with a short groan and fought to stop laughing.

After you finished dinner, you checked the time. It wasn't too late, but with everything that happened, drowsiness gnawed at the edge of your mind. You tapped your fork against the rim of the bowl as you walked through the mental checklist of what you needed to do before bed. Beetlejuice asked what you were doing and frowned when you told him.

"You're going to bed already?"

"I have work tomorrow and you gave me a few good scares today. I'm getting tired."

He pouted, but you noticed he cracked a smile, hearing that he scared you. You rolled your eyes and got up to put your dish in the sink. When you returned, you pulled several movie cases and set them on the coffee table.

"Pick whichever one you want, I can put it on for you before I go to bed."

You give him a small smile and leave to get ready. A few minutes later, once in your pajamas with your teeth brushed and the cat wrangled back into the bathroom, Beetlejuice picked out a movie. You got it started and tidied up the couch for him.

"You don't have to clean on my account, babes. I don't mind the mess."

"I don't mind, you're my guest, and I want things to be nice." You said and gave him another smile. "G'night, Beetle. See ya in the morning."

[shoichee]

Hello and congrats on the 100 milestone! Can you do prompt #19 for Midorima? 😁

MAN OH MAN IT’S BEEN A LONG TIME BUT I’M FINALLY BACK, TSYM for being here since the beginning, i rlly rlly appreciate it <333 so HERES SOME FLUFF

Midorima x Reader

19. “I think I’m in love with you, and that scares the crap out of me”

Word Count: 3349

prompt list here

»»—————　☼　—————««

“Seriously, are you sure you’re not secretly related to Shin-chan?” Takao shoves another helping of rice into his mouth and you instantly frown at his messy eating habits.

“Takao, it doesn’t hurt to wipe the grains off your cheeks with napkins that the cafeteria always abundantly provides,” you say, not once taking your eyes off of the study guide you compiled for the class final. “And please don’t talk with your mouth open.” You can easily sense Takao groaning before slapping his eyes while leaning back in frustration, but you still carried on in skimming your notes instead.

“And that’s exactly why Shin-chan doesn’t know how to approach you,” he petulantly mumbles. You spared a glance above your packets, not catching his inaudible words.

“Pardon?”

“Never mind,” Takao sighs, settling to childishly stabbing the shrimp tempuras with his chopsticks and popping them into his mouth. “You werdn’t gert it.”

“What did I just say about your eating manners?” You roll your eyes, choosing to brush off his words as you continue to devote your attention to your papers. Takao simply opts to noisily munch on the rest of his lunch while being deep in thought, letting you study in some relative peace. He then gets up, tosses his trash away, and plops back down on his seat, and he props up his chin on his arm, watching you completely engrossed in your own world and figuring out how to exactly figure out his next best course of action.

“Y’know what? Screw this, I’m not getting paid to be a wingman for two difficult people,” he dramatically sighs, purposely trying to get your attention, and it worked. “You might wanna start paying attention to poor Shin-chan before he over thinks himself to death.” Takao does an exaggerated shrug and a shake of his head to emphasize the “seriousness” of the situation. You merely frown.

“You never cease to amaze me with your convoluted words. If you want something from me, just spit it out already.” You reluctantly let down your papers to give him your undivided attention, and Takao leans closer, dropping his voice to a hush.

“Look, I know you see him in a different light from the others,” he whispers conspiringly. “And he does too.” He makes pointer-finger motions in front of him to represent “you” and “Midorima.”

“... This again?” You pinch your nose bridge and release a harsh sigh, but you nonetheless let Takao continue.

“Come on, would it really hurt to do a confession? For someone so blunt and straightforward, you’re really dragging this out for way too long.” Takao frowns at your deadpan expression but continues his little movements with his makeshift “finger puppets.” “Once you”—he takes his left index finger—“and Shin-chan”—he brings his right index closer to his left—“do the chu”— he brings his index fingers together to imply the situation—“I can finally be free from the clutches of Shi—”

“I already told you,” you smoothly interrupt, “that we don’t see each other that way. He’s been a reliable partner in class projects and a very helpful person to share notes with. I’m very certain it’s like that on his end with me too.”

“Why do you sound so disappointed when you say it like that?” Takao slowly grows a shit-eating (yet hopeful) smirk. You scowl at his implications. Takao amusedly notes that you’re way too similar to his best friend.

“There’s no chance that we’ll ever get to that stage… ever. Okay? Satisfied now?”

“So you are disappointed at the possible outcome,” Takao gleefully says, his face showing all signs of plans being concocted in his mind. You completely widen your eyes at your simple slip-up.

“I… it’s not a possible outcome, damn it,” you vehemently insist. “It’s a guarantee.”

“Puh-lease (y/n)-chan, how do you know unless you try it?”

“Alright Takao,” you dryly reply. “Why don’t you try staring directly at the sun first before confirming that you become blind from that?”

“That’s not the same!”

“Same logic,” you huff. “Look, you know Midorima-san more than anyone, and even you know how he thinks. He finds the concept of friends and teammates to be pretty unnecessary, and frankly I can empathize with him. If he finds camaraderie to be a hassle already, dating is already beyond off the table. It takes much more to be a genuine friend to him than your average person, and if I do, by chance, confess, I’d be throwing away everything that I built up with him like an idiot… just being like this with him is more than enough for me. Besides, a relationship isn’t important right now, not when class takes up most of the time.”

“Well, normally yes, but in this specific case, there’s an excep—”

“I already came clean with this,” you say, furrowing your brows. “So can you finally let me study for this class in peace? Obviously, it’s a given for you not to open your mouth to anyone else about this.” With that, you tune out any further noise and burrow yourself into your class materials, and Takao could only sigh as he tries to wrack his brain for another way to play wingman.

“... Seriously, they’re both so stubborn.”

———

“(y/n)-san.”

“Hm?”

You turn around from looking at the bulletin to the person who just addressed you. Midorima stares down at you quite seriously before he promptly clears his throat.

“You’re blocking the way, nanodayo.”

“Ah… I apologize,” you say, immediately stepping closer to the bulletin to clear up the hallway. You turn your face to appear fixated on the bulletin board, but still sensing Midorima staring at you, you reluctantly peek at him from your peripheral vision. “... Is there something else you need, Midorima-san?” Midorima looks at the bulletin board for a moment before he turns back to your face.

“Regarding the group project we were paired to do in chemistry,” he starts, “the teacher praised our work very highly and wants to know if he can use it as an example for future lectures. I’m here to hear your answer on his behalf.”

You mentally sigh from the secretive disappointment. Of course Midorima was here for straightforward business. Nothing more, nothing less. Still, Takao’s words begin flitting through your mind now… of all times.

“Of course he can use it,” you smile. “I think it’s an honor to have our project regarded so highly like that, especially since so much effort was put into it… although… I think you’re the reason why we received such a high score, Midorima-san.” You train your gaze on Midorima, trying to gauge his reaction from the compliment, but he gives no such sign away, not any that you were aware of as far as you were concerned.

“(y/n)-san, I believe your own efforts and work ethic shouldn’t be trivialized,” Midorima replies, briefly closing his eyes and adjusting his frames. “After all, you are the one who made this project a cohesive final product, one that is also comprehensible to other peers in our presentation.”

“Ah… well…” You were definitely thrown in for a loop, not expecting Midorima to compliment you back so openly, albeit probably not for the reasons you were hoping for. “... Thank you, Midorima.” In an attempt to curb your growing flusteredness, you opted to stare at the bulletin board again, pretending to be occupied in reading the pinned papers.

“... Right.” Midorima softly clears his throat. “I’ll be taking my leave back to the faculty office. It was good talking to you.”

He swiftly turns around and walks back in the direction he came from, and when you were certain that he was walking judging from his footsteps, you turn your head to stare at his back before averting your gaze.

You frown once he exits out of your sight as you ponder about his particular diction.

“It was good talking to you”? Had Midorima ever said that to anyone before? You sigh to yourself and pinch your nose bridge to chastise yourself. Takao was right; you might’ve fallen a little too hard for the reserved individual, but even still, a relationship isn’t something you wanted to actively chase after.

Amidst your dilemma, you were completely unaware that Takao watched the entire exchange, holding back his laughter from seeing you uncharacteristically look like an absolute love-stricken fool. He got too much of a kick out of seeing the both of you trying to flirt… and an even bigger kick when he saw Midorima turning around to briefly “discreetly” stare at you while you were having your inner monologue.

———

“Takao, I’m having none of your bullshit today.” Midorima simply scowls as he prepares to leave the main building to the gym. Takao merely tags along while taunting him in a sing-song voice.

“Come onnn,” Takao insists, slapping Midorima’s back a little too harshly. “You said it yourself didn’t you? Favorable outcomes come to those who prepare the most. Don’t lie, I know you’ve been planning to naturally bump into our (y/n)-chan in different scenarios. Like yesterday in the hall—”

“You knew?!” Midorima jumps out of his skin to shoot an accusatory look at him, but Takao merely struggles to hold back a snicker at his reaction.

“Shin-chan, how hard is it to say three specific little words to someone else?” Takao sends a frustrated look. “You’ve always gone the extra mile to prepare your lucky items, read the Oha Asa predictions, and do little rituals not just for yourself but also for (y/n)-chan too, yet you don’t want to do a simple thing like confessing?”

“A confession isn’t that simple,” he retorts. “It can alter my fate for potentially worse if I’m not prepared.”

“Jeez, only you can take this so seriously,” Takao sighs, which only earned him a withering look from Midorima’s end. “But then again, it’s nice that you see it as something serious… but when are you actually gonna do it?” His response was only silence, as if he didn’t really give much thought about it until it was brought up now.

“That’s none of your concern.”

“Oh come on, Shin-chan!”

“To be honest,” he says, stopping in place. “The horoscope says that Cancers would be rejected by signs like of (y/n)-san’s, much less be compatible. Predictions state that such relationships between the two would be troublesome.”

“Okay, Shin-chan,” Takao says, patting Midorima’s shoulder. “I know I constantly joke about this Oha Asa and this entire thing with (y/n)-chan, but”—he stops when he sees Midorima giving him another scathing look—“even if the horoscopes state it so, it’s like you said: favorable outcomes come to those who do the most. If you did everything you could, I see no reason to be scared. Plus, you have me to help you.”

“... It’s not that. Part of this is beyond what I can do to prepare. Whatever I do will not influence (y/n)-san’s answer, and that is something out of my control.”

“You know, you could just say that you’re nervous.”

“I am not.”

“Well, if you want me to be honest,” Takao says. “I think it’s because the two of you are so eerily similar that you find it hard to approach (y/n)-san. Like, when’s the last time you’ve met someone as serious and stiff as yo—I’m kidding, I’m kidding! Please don’t raise your fist at me!”

“That being said,” he continues, “Just talk to (y/n) like you’ve talked to everyone else. I mean you both always hit it off when you talk together in class.”

“I… suppose…”

“Trust me,” Takao grins, slightly elbowing Midorima’s ribs. “I’d like to think of myself as an accurate guy in ball-passing and in detecting social cues.”

———

You really tried to carry yourself normally.

You really did.

But a part of you is becoming hyper-aware of everything Midorima does, and being your normally collected self is suddenly becoming a lot more difficult. Studying at your own desk is nigh impossible with both Midorima’s words and Takao’s implications running through your mind. Even Midorima, who normally minds his own business, shoots you pensive looks here and there during class, and he approaches you during break after.

“... Your sign is at one of the lowest ranks in luck today… may that be the reason why you’re not being your usual self?” He studies as you pull yourself together.

“Erm… somewhere along the lines, yeah. Most likely woke up on the wrong side of the bed today,” you mumble, rubbing your neck to ease the nervousness.

“Is that so…” he says. He pulls out a small toy that was found in the local gachapon down the street. “Ahem… I hear that your lucky item is this today.” He holds it out in front of you, silently waiting for you to take it, and you gently pluck it out of his large hands.

“Well, what about you?” you inquire. “I’m sure you got this toy for a reason, like say… for your own good luck?”

“Well,” he coughs. “I have my own. I am always prepared for such occurrences should things go awry.”

“You’re always so prepared for everything,” you quietly laugh. “Not that it’s a bad thing, though. I do wish I was more like you in that regard.”

“W-Well, I think you have your own admirable traits to be proud of, er…” Midorima slowly turns red and contemplates backtracking on his words. “I-If you excuse me, I must get going for health committee duties, nanodayo.” He heaves his bag on his shoulder as you wave at him, and he lingers there, debating on something that you aren’t sure what it is. “Might you have time afterschool today?”

“Uh… not that I think of,” you reply. “Are you already looking ahead to the next partner assignment?”

“Actually, no… it won’t take much of your time, (y/n)-san. It’s something quick. Can we meet at the vending machines near the gym? I do have practice around that time, so I hope somewhere nearby could suffice for you too.”

“That’s fine with me, because… I feel like I need to tell you something too or I won’t be able to study at this rate, but if you have practice, shouldn’t you be focused on that more?”

“It’s fine. This one takes… a higher priority.” Midorima fixes his glasses and readjusts his grip on his shoulder bag as he ponders about your own words. “If this arrangement is fine with you, I will be seeing you after school.” You only nod as you wave goodbye at him again, and you exhale a long sigh of relief and nervousness once he leaves. You really wonder if telling Midorima that you had something important to tell him was a good move on your part, considering that you can’t backtrack your words on someone as stubborn as him. Takao may or may not have seen Midorima’s attempt in being forward and silently laughed himself to oblivion in the corner of the classroom.

———

“Were you waiting long, Midorima-san?” You briskly jog with your heavy bag to the destined location to see Midorima thumbing through his book before he looks up.

“You are as punctual as always.” He closes his book with a thud and places it in his bag on the bench before he stands up to face you. “Which is always appreciated considering it is not as common in others.”

“I just think it’s common courtesy.”

“Not quite, considering I asked you rather suddenly to meet me here,” he says. “You aren’t obligated to even agree in meeting me, yet here you are on time, just like with our past project sessions.”

“Well… you did say it was important enough that you put practice as a second priority, and I do want to tell you something too.”

“R-Right…”

An awkward silence dominates the exchange after Midorima clears his throat and goes silent as you patiently wait in agony. You eye at his troubled expression, wondering what sort of thing he was going to tell you that got him so worked up. At the same time, you grew slightly antsier, quietly tapping a foot or rubbing your neck, and you wonder if Midorima was actually waiting for you to say something first.

“I… I think I’m in love with you, and that scares the crap out of me.”

“I-I believe I may have developed feelings akin to attraction for you.”

“Uh…”

“Ahem…”

Both of you stare at each other in unadulterated surprise.

“... You… like me?” Midorima murmurs, his eyes still full blown in shock.

“L-Likewise,” you reply, opting to stare at Midorima’s bag on the bench instead. Another awkward silence ensues as both of you take in each other’s sudden words and Midorima clears his throat again.

“... Why are you afraid of liking me?” Midorima restores his composure, staring at your flustered state with furrowed brows, thinking that he somehow made you uncomfortable at some point throughout the year.

“Wait… no! That’s not what I meant!” you say, mildly shaking your head. “Uh, let me rephrase that…” Midorima silently watches you as you continue. “Well, you weren’t the person to have romance in your mind, let alone have feelings, let alone for me, and… my friendship with you is something that I treasure, and I don’t want to hinder you with such things that can make you uncomfortable in being around me. That was why I was afraid, although I’ve been in denial about it until recently.”

“I see.”

“And um, I thought that confessing to you would end the friendship we had.”

“... Likewise.” Midorima uses your word against you with an upward curl of his lip. It almost seems like he was teasing you. You grow redder at his response, but he continued. “I suppose the lucky item I gave you provided the most favorable outcome for the day.” You only nod as you processed everything that just happened in a few moments, and both of you went quiet again.

“...”

“...”

“So…”

“... I’m not sure what to do next,” Midorima frowns. “I wasn’t prepared for this particular situation, nanodayo.” You only smile at his own flusters.

“Well…” you say. “We could date, but I don’t think that’s important right now, considering that we still have to focus on school… I mean unless you want to, then we can try to make it work?”

“Ahem, while I do think these things are quite frivolous,” he says. “I suppose we can learn to balance our relationship with other aspects of our lives accordingly.”

“I would like that,” you smile, walking to approach closer to Midorima. “Could we… um, hold hands? If you’re not into that though, that’s okay.” He says nothing in response but his hand slowly reaches out for your own to gently clasp, and closes his eyes in bliss before he opens them to look at you.

“... I must go to practice soon. It’s almost time.”

“I see,” you mumble. “If that’s the case, I’ll be inside the library to cram in extra lectures.” You pull your hand away to separate, but he holds you tighter. “Midorima?”

“... I’ll walk you there, nanodayo.” He peers over your face to gauge any objections on your end, but when he finds none, he gently tugs you along as you both walk to the building next-door.

“I never knew you were into hand-holding.”

“N-Not really,” he quietly says, his ears turning red.

“Actually,” you say, bringing Midorima’s attention back to you in light of the topic change. “I need to thank Takao tomorrow… he’s the one who pushed me to confess.”

“Hmph,” he scoffs. “I do suppose that the idiot has some merits to his words.”

“I do now see what he means when he keeps insisting that we’re too alike in personality and preferences.”

“That just means we’re more compatible than what fate initially predicted, nanodayo.”

“You checked the horoscopes for relationship compatibility? Never would I have thought that such things occupied your mind, Midorima…”

“Urk—That’s…”

[whenimaunicorn]

Playing House Part 10

Ubbe x Reader, Ivar x Reader. Modern Vikings college AU

Words: 3481. Short for me but I think these words pack a punch...

Content Tags: predator kink, voyeurism, roleplayed fear, roleplayed punishment, overstimulation

Catch up:   1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14

You had spent months wrapped up in delicious, heady anticipation, just wondering what these boys would be like in bed, or if you would ever even get there with either of them. Now it seems like the tables are turned; it’s Ivar and Ubbe that are obsessed, each of them tantalized and awakened in their own way to what you’ve brought into their lives: the opportunity to indulge every kinky fantasy and fucked-up thought they’ve ever had.

You say no to some things, of course. But your limits are so far from “normal” that you still manage to surprise and delight them with your amenability to trying just about anything. You’re here to serve. And the excitement of still not knowing what they’re going to want to do to your body next? That’s the most intoxicating feeling of all.

Classes start again for you and Ivar, meaning you probably have more important things to do than being the fuckdoll that keeps the apartment looking nice for her boys. But Ivar takes care of you here, too: a strict schedule is set, for study and play, so neither of you fall behind. That’s not to say that Ubbe doesn’t sometimes use you as a cockwarmer while you’re going through your flashcards, or that you don’t spend some evenings knotted up on the couch in comfortable bondage while you and Ivar finish your reading assignments. You find ways to get everyone’s competing needs met.

And Ubbe… Ubbe has discovered his own brand of kink.

“Hey y/n,” he says, catching your eye just as you’ve finished polishing up the kitchen. All he’s got to do is give you that look, and you know what’s about to happen. And he reads something in your eyes that signals you’re up for it, too. He winks. “Run.”

You launch yourself past him through the doorway of the kitchen. His hand almost catches at your hip, but you twist away from him just quickly enough, grinning at your triumph even though he probably only let you get by him so that he could enjoy the chase.

You get the couch between him and you, but realize that now you’re cornered. His teeth are bared like a savage as he follows each of your feints, left, right, left again. If you could get past him and down the hallway, you might be able to get to your room with enough time to lock him out.

You know, if you actually wanted to win.

You’re giggling; he’s growling. “When I catch you, y/n,” he threatens, “say goodbye to those panties.” You feint to the right, then rapidly to the left, but he doesn’t fall for it. “I’ll rip ‘em faster than Ivar can keep replacing them.”

You’ve stopped wearing anything other than skirts and dresses around the apartment. Between Ubbe’s constant roughhousing and Ivar’s penchant for sliding his hands up and up and up, you never want to have to pause the action long enough to shimmy out of anything so complicated as pants.

“You’re not getting away,” Ubbe informs you with a deep, predatory chuckle. Tiring of darting from side to side, he starts to climb directly over the couch at you.

That’s your chance, though. As soon as he’s off the ground you dart off to the left, ducking under his reaching arm and speeding over to the hallway that leads back to the bedrooms. You can hear his feet thudding behind you as he jumps down, but maybe you can make it . . .  passing Ivar’s empty room, you duck into your own and fling yourself at the door, adrenaline making you giddy as you try and swing it around and shut it right in Ubbe’s face.

His arms scoop around your waist before you pull it even a few inches. “Gotcha,” he gloats, then lifts your feet up off the floor and tosses you at your bed.

Ever since that scuffle after he made you answer Ivar’s call, you had both realized Ubbe loved to feel you fighting him just as much as you loved struggling against him. And so now, whenever Ivar’s not home, you fear his return only about equally as much as you worry that the neighbors might call the cops on all the bangs and thumps they have to be hearing whenever you and Ubbe get into it. Hopefully they can hear that you laugh just as much as you scream.

You try to bounce off the mattress as soon as he flings you onto it, but again Ubbe is too fast for you. His wide hand centers on your chest and pushes you right back down, then holds you there as he gets his other hand up your skirt. “I don’t know why you even bother to keep wearing these,” he says, the exertion thinning out his voice as he gets his fist around the side of your panties and starts dragging them down.

When you arch your back and grind your ass into the bed to try and make his job more difficult, he slaps the side of your thigh and then tries again twice as hard.

You’ve chosen lace today, which you slightly regret as you feel the friction of the scratchy material digging into your skin. And so you relent, just a little, shimmying along with his efforts and letting him work your panties all the way off without any more snags. “So much easier when you cooperate,” Ubbe notes.

“But where’s the fun in that?” You scoot up like you’re trying to escape again.

His palm slams you down, pushing you into the pillows piled up at the top of your neatly-made bed. Well, it was neatly made. Ubbe’s rumpling it pretty thoroughly now. This time his hand is bridging your collarbone, pressure teasing your neck. It’s enough to make you go completely still, and drop your consciousness into sub-mode as you savor the dominance of the gesture.

With your guard finally down, Ubbe gets himself tucked nice and tight between your legs. He keeps that solid pressure going on your chest, though, while working to open up his pants.

He makes this noise when he’s close to sinking into you, when you’re fighting like this. It’s a growl but it’s somehow gleeful; a predator who knows he’s inches from getting his jaws around your throat. “You gonna keep fighting?” His teeth graze against the side of your neck. “Or are you gonna make this easier on yourself?’

You choose easier, licking your palm quickly so that when Ubbe drops his cock out of his pants you’re right there to slather some lube on it before he starts working his way into you. Ubbe groans at the feeling of your hand, then spits on his own fingers to return the favor in a hurried swipe across your entrance.

No foreplay in this game. The game is the foreplay. Ubbe has taken to eating you out afterwards, long and slow and luscious. Right now, it’s all about the rush.

You cry out as his blunt head catches a little before finding the right angle to sink in deeper. You all did the responsible thing and got STD tests not too long ago, and now you’re free to bareback it as much as you please. It’s easy to believe Ubbe’s promise to be monogamous for as long as you’re doing it like this. With how often he throws you down and fucks you around here, there’s no way that he’d have anything left for anyone else.

Ubbe’s cock has that kind of width that you never just ‘get used to.’ You’ve gotten better at taking it, as fast and hard as he wants it at times like this, but that first inexorable slide always makes your eyes pop a little. It takes up all your concentration to relax your body and let him stretch you.

Which is probably why you just missed something really important.

Ubbe’s about twenty thrusts in before you can get a hold of yourself enough to stop squealing, to relax the clutching grip of your hands around his shoulders and cross your ankles over the back of his bouncing hips, to get comfortable and open your eyes.

You look over Ubbe’s shoulder to see Ivar leering at you from the door.

It finally happened. He finally caught you. Adrenaline seizes your muscles up tight, locking your legs around Ubbe’s back and making him moan deeper while your own vocal chords freeze.

Ivar’s head wiggles as he leans his shoulder against the doorframe. A single finger comes up to his mouth, in that universal gesture for silence. Then his eyes leave yours to trail over the rest of your body, the sprawl of your thighs bouncing under Ubbe’s heaving back.

He settles in a little deeper, so he doesn’t need to hold himself up with both crutches. His finger leaves his lips and he palms down at his own crotch instead.

Ivar wants to watch.

Tingles burst out across your body as you incorporate the pleasure of Ubbe’s deep dicking with the self-conscious awareness of being on display for your other lover. Ivar can’t see much besides your legs and your eyes so he must—oh fuck—must be in this just to watch the reactions that play across your face.

“Make some noise for me, baby” Ubbe moans against your neck. “You’re so quiet.”

He lifts his head far enough to look at your face, and your eyes snap to his quick, before he thinks you were looking at anything over his shoulder. Ivar is a dark blob in your peripheral vision as you focus on the face of the man who’s fucking you right now. Not the one that’s sure to fuck you twice as thoroughly as soon as this is over.

You make a little sound for Ubbe, somewhere between a squeal and a moan. It’s really all you can produce under this sense of looming doom that might be smiling sadistically from the doorway at you right now.

Ubbe frowns. “I could barely hear that,” he mocks, then grins and adjusts his hips, pulling your thigh up higher around his back. “Guess I gotta hit it a little deeper.”

“Unf,” you cry, unable to hold back as he, true to his word, tries his best to rearrange your guts. You throw your head back and just ride it out, giving him those full-throated groans you know he’s looking for. As far as you can tell, Ivar’s looking for them too. If this is happening, then you might as well go all out with it.

If Ivar wants to stay and watch, then you can’t be in that much trouble. Just pretend trouble. Which is definitely the good kind.

The weight of Ivar’s eyes means about as much as his hands on your body ever could. He’s not even doing anything, and yet, he is absolutely a third lover in this room. The heat of that gaze makes your skin prickle, makes your cunt tighten around Ubbe’s cock and sets you moaning, then screaming through your teeth as you feel your orgasm building hot and thick and all for Ivar and those eyes.

“Fuck,” Ubbe growls, the desperate edge to his voice showing he’s on his edge too, “you feel so good. Can never get enough.”

You can’t, either. Not of either one of them. Ubbe’s pace increases, coming up to that home stretch before he empties himself inside you. And given the delicious, mad pressure building between your thighs, you just might come right along with him.

Ubbe buries his face in the crook of your neck with a long, guttural noise as he hammers out his final, ecstatic thrusts. You’re so close to peaking, too. So—close—just—a—few—more—

Ubbe’s thrusts are slowing but you’ve still got everything you need. You latch wide, desperate eyes on Ivar’s smirking face, using that dirty feeling of knowing you’re being watched, that he’s watching, to push yourself over the edge.

The look in Ivar’s eyes is dark, so dark, as he reaches to the side and, with a shit-eating grin, pushes firmly against the bedroom door. It hits the stopper against the wall with a loud, distinctive sound.

Ubbe freezes, recognizing that someone must have just come in. You make an odd sobbing noise as your impending orgasm melts away.

“I think that is enough.”

Ubbe leans his forehead against your shoulder, exhaling long and hard. With a slow tilt of his hips, he grinds himself deeper into you, one last stubborn farewell to the pussy. He brings his mouth up close enough to whisper in your ear. “Uh oh. You finally got caught.” As he pulls away, you see a new kind of eagerness on his sweaty face.

He always did want to know what your punishment was going to be.

“I will take it from here, Ubbe.”

There are times that Ubbe Lothbrok can be stubborn; an alpha male with his own plan and need to assert himself upon a situation. Right after he’s blown his load is not one of those times. He pulls himself out of you in one long, slow swipe and tucks his softening cock right back into his pants. His eyes flick over the disheveled sprawl of your body underneath him, a prideful smile curling his lip, and then he straightens up and off your bed. “She’s all yours.”

Ivar struts forward, head waggling as his crutches carry him swiftly to the edge of the bed. You close your legs modestly, but his hand clamps down on your thigh, holding you open for him. “I told you never to let me catch you.” The look on his face is positively wicked.

All you can do is whimper, still flushed and half-crazed with your need to come.

“And yet, you left the door open. Like you wanted me to see.” He starts smacking at your inner thighs, quick, precise little swats, holding your legs spread when you twitch and try to protect yourself reflexively. “Stay. Open.”

You can only imagine what Ivar is seeing, your naked pussy swollen, needy, and leaking cum. It’s almost unbearable. His smacks turn to flicks of his strong fingers as he moves closer in toward your center, alternating sides and just watching you force yourself to keep your legs open.

Then comes the slap you had been anticipating, right on your clit. You cry out, surprised how much you like the feeling. Maybe it’s only because you were just on the brink, but after the sharp pain recedes a fresh rush of arousal suffuses you and you sob. “Ivar, please.”

He pauses. “Please, what?”

“Please let me come.”

He raises one heavy brow. “That’s all you can say? Unrepentant to the end, I see. Well then, dirty girl, if that’s what you want your punishment to be…” His hand covers your mound, thumb finding your needy clit. He rubs one single, glorious circle, then stops. His head swivels. “Ubbe. Did you think you get to watch? Out.”

* * *

You’re going to pass out. Mercy, please, there’s no way that you can handle another orgasm. Ivar’s got your muscles clenching, the sheets soaked, your legs trapped around his body and your pussy stuffed with the third vibrator he’s decided to try. He’s even got another one vibrating right against your asshole, just to give you ideas about other sins he might have in store for you. Pleasure runs like a raging river, unrelenting. Every time you try to catch your gasping breath, Ivar raises the flood.

“Come on, greedy girl,” Ivar coaxes, his voice husky after all the effort he’s spent working you over. “Surely you can’t quit before orgasm number eight.” He changes something down there and all you can do is wail like an animal as he somehow makes you feel more full than ever. And then his finger returns to your clit. He’s just about got this down to a science, after so many experimental trials here in your darkened bedroom. Fuck you with the toy, change the vibration every few minutes so your body can’t get used to it, tease your asshole and press down on your clit juuuuust so.

It’s starting to feel like he knows the angles your body likes better than you do. He’s turned your clitoris against you, co-opting that magic button into something he can press on his whim to make you explode in another spine-shaking climax. This time, you come so hard you see spots blooming in front of your vision.

Something must have changed in your voice as that last one crashed over you. This time, Ivar does not immediately start re-tuning the machine, gearing your body up to start the cycle all over again for number nine. Instead his hand falls steady and warm, covering your shuddering sex with a reassuring stillness as he leans in over you. His voice is low as he comes close enough for you to meet his drowning eyes in the dark. “Mercy?”

“Mercy.” You can barely say it. You barely have a voice left after all the ecstatic screams he’s forced across your throat.

Ivar makes a soothing sound, one that rings in your ears like the most beautiful, reassuring thing you’ve ever heard. He’s letting it end. You made it all the way through; you didn’t have to stop him. You lasted until he offered. That had been the goal your submissive soul clung to as he took your body through just about every pleasure it could handle. He reaches down to click off the vibrations. You sigh as he slips the last toy out of your body. “You did so good for me.”

He covers your pussy with his hand again. It feels immensely comforting, stillness and steady reassurance after all that thrusting and vibration. You let all the remaining tension drain out against his palm as you close your eyes and let yourself come slowly back to something approximating reality.

The next thing you’re aware of is Ivar coaxing your head up higher on the pillows. “Drink,” he says softly, putting a water bottle in your hands and guiding it up to your lips. “I wrung you out pretty good.”

The water is cool and extremely welcome. You want to make a joke about how little moisture you must have left in your body, after all that, but slaking your thirst is so much more important.

Rolling your blanket around you, Ivar lays down to cuddle beside your exhausted body after taking the water bottle away. You never would have guessed, before all this, what an avid snuggler Ivar Lothbrok is. He seems to crave your body against his own, after these intense sessions. He pulls you in tight against him. “We could take a shower, if you want,” he offers.

“I don’t think I can move.”

His chuckle is indulgent. “Fair enough.” He snuggles his cheek in a little closer. “Let me know if you need anything.”

So. He’s not fucking you today, either. Not that this even feels like the right time for your first time…it’s just something that’s been on your mind. Maybe it makes you old-fashioned, but it just feels like he hasn’t fully claimed you yet. Part of you kind of thought that once he caught you with Ubbe, that might have been what he was waiting for, to make you absolutely his. But this doesn’t feel like a turning point at all. Nothing he had said indicated that he did not like seeing you that way, or that he expected you to stop fucking Ubbe now. It’s always just been another game.

Which suits you just fine. You wonder if you will ever have a chance of getting bored in this apartment.

Your meandering thoughts are interrupted by the sound of Ivar’s phone, a quick, chirping notification.

He shifts lazily to check it when it chirps a second time. A short bark of a laugh rumbles out of him a moment later.

“What?”

Ivar rolls back to show you his screen. The text message is from Hvitserk, who you know to be another one of his brothers.

Be in town tomorrow

gonna crash in Sigurd’s room

“Looks like someone else wants in your bed,” Ivar croons at you.

You know that Hvitserk just doesn’t know that the apartment has acquired a new roommate, but you get a funny feeling deep inside your overstimulated body, anyway.

“Maybe I should tie you up naked tomorrow,” Ivar continues, voice low and teasing as he nips at your ear. “Leave you right here as a gift for him to find when he arrives. Haven’t seen him in a while, I’m sure I missed a birthday somewhere in there.” He grins at whatever he sees in your face. “If you need another lesson about what greedy girls get.” His finger taps you affectionately, right on the nose.

Next Chapter

Taglist is open:  @hanhanxx @xxdearlybeloved​@littledeadrottinghood @persephone-is-here-omg​ @rekdreams247​ @inforapound​ @creepshowzombae @tomarisela​ @youbloodymadgenius​ @walkxthexmoon​@funmadnessandbadassvikings @trashqueenbitch @justlovelifeblog​ @earl-aive​ @supernaturalvikingwhore @equalstrashflavoredtrash​ @that-was-not-supposed-to-happen​ @ceridwenofwales​ @grungyblonde​ @pokeasleepingsmaug​ @hvittysmutanon​ @honestsycrets​ @wuxiesalt @thorins-queen-of-erebor​ @writingfromasgard​ @tootie-fruity​ @lordsexmachine​ @uncomfortable-writers​ @sadbutatleastsassy @sweatstreatz01 @ritual-unions-gotme​ @likealostkiss​ @thehangedmanandthehoneybee @xxlilqueeniexx @thefightingdragon​ @xbergiex​

[silverarmedassassin]

Please, Mr. Barnes

CEO!Bucky x Reader | NSFW, 18+ only please | 2163 words | Masterlist

You’ve just started a new job as the executive secretary to the one and only James “Bucky” Barnes - founder, owner, and leader of Barnes Bionics, the most successful prosthetics companies in North America. Everything is going smooth until your royally fuck up and Bucky is forced to punish you the only way he knows how...

Warning: Like I mentioned above, 18+ only, please! There’s a little tongue action here, some spanking there. Nothing explicit but, ya know.

Note: Listen, despite consuming more than my fair share of smut, I’ve never actually wrote anything remotely smutty, so this is very new to me. Please be nice 😭 I was inspired after seeing this post, where I accidently went off in the tags because I was feeling some kind of way. I’m also dedicating this to @wonderlandmind4​, because they called me out on my shit 😅 Enjoy!

To say you fucked up is an understatement. Forgetting to send an email is fucking up. Forgetting to water the plant’s in your boss’s office is fucking up. But this? This is a next level, idiotic, you-deserve-to-be-fired mess. And you haven’t even been here a full week.

You started at Barnes Bionics as an executive assistant to the CEO. You’d heard great things about the company - the relaxed and family-like corporate atmosphere, casual Fridays, and the down-to-earth, laid-back James Barnes, aka the founder, owner, and leader of the most successful prosthetics company in North America - and were eager to start your new position. Not only was it going to be a significant pay raise, but it was also going to give you a change of pace. You’d struggled for so long to find a position that would help boost your career, so when your best friend informed you she was stepping down from her assistant position to stay home with her soon-to-be-born daughter, you were ecstatic.

Except right now, on this bright and warm Friday afternoon, you wanted to be anywhere but your desk on the 90th floor of the One World Trade Center Building. While the executive offices began to empty, your new co-workers filing out in clumps, chatting excitedly about their weekend plans, you sat impatiently behind your desk, trying to make yourself as small as you could.

Earlier in the day, right after you returned from lunch, an email from James popped up on your screen. “Plan to stay after this evening,” was all you could read from the preview. In naive, blissful ignorance, butterflies erupted deep in your belly. Your boss was attractive. He looked like he could be sculpted from marble with the way his muscles strained against his smartly pressed button-downs, and the slight clench in his jaw when he’s concentrating on something was mesmerizing. The giddy feeling quickly dissipated, however, as you continued reading.

“I received a strongly worded voicemail from a distraught Tony Stark this morning. Asked why I’d waste his time by not showing up to a meeting that, the last time I checked my calendar, is scheduled for next week. I should be back at the office at 5:15. I expect you to be prepared for a one-on-one meeting before then.”

Your eyes flick to the small clock in the corner of your computer screen, and your stomach feels like it’s wrapped itself into a constrictor knot. 5:12. If your boss was anything, it’s punctual. As Sam Wilson, Barnes Bionics’ chief operations officer, closes his office up, the elevators just down the hall ding, signaling their arrival.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Sam laughs as he laughs before departing with a jaunty farewell.

You hear the two men exchange the usual pleasantries, the elevators shut, then the ominous echos of James loafers meeting the polished marble floor. You close your eyes and take a few deep breaths in an attempt to calm your nerves, but as soon as he beckons you to follow him into his office as he passes your desk, you actually think you’re going to throw up.

“Mr. Barnes, I’m so sorry I-”

He holds his hand up to silence you as he leans back against his large mahogany desk and uses his free hand - the metal one, that one that started this entire company - to pinch the bridge of his nose. “You realize Tony Stark is one of my biggest investors, right?”

You open your mouth to answer, but he fixes you with a rather threatening, so you simply nod and look down at your heel-covered feet. He’s going to fire me, you think as you wait for him to continue with his lecture. I haven’t even received my first paycheck, and I’m getting canned.

“You could have cost me a lot of money today, Ms. Y/L/N.” He pushes off his desk and slowly makes his way to where you stand just inside his spacious office. “There is no room for such vital mistakes like the one you made in this industry. I didn’t build this company from the ground up by missing meetings with the men and women who fund our research. I didn’t become one of the world's leading tech companies by allowing my assistants to make careless mistakes and piss off my partners.”

“Mr. Barnes, please,” you beg. God, you sound so pathetic, but you really don’t want to lose this job. And the fact that you messed up so bad within the first week of being employed at Barnes Biotics is embarrassing, a total misrepresentation of how organized and punctual you usually are when it comes to the workplace. “I...I’m trying really hard, there’s just so much to learn in such little time and I...I don’t know what happened.. I’ve never made a mistake like this before, and I never will again. Please, you don’t understand how much I need this job. I’ll do anything, I’ll work overtime without pay. Please…”

“Fire you?” James snorts as he stops in front of you. He’s so close you can smell his cologne, feel the heat radiating off his broad chest. “Oh, honey, I’m not going to fire you. But mistakes do come with consequences.”

You force yourself to look up at him. The anger and pure disappointment you expect to find on his face is surprisingly absent. In its place is something a little darker, dare you say a bit lustful. His powder blue eyes are almost covered with the black of his pupil, and a little smirk is playing in the corner of his lips.

“Go stand by the desk,” he commands. You go to question him, but he tuts his tongue. “Go on. You know how impatient I can be.”

Confused, you slowly make your way across the room, stopping in the space he had just been occupying. You’re about to turn around when two large arms around you. James’ metal hand settles on your lower stomach as his other arm wraps around your shoulder.

“Do you know,” he says, hot breath fanning across your exposed neck, “what happens to bad girls?”

You swallow thickly before you answer. “Uhm, no, Mr. Barnes.”

“They get punished.” Before you realize what’s going on, James pushes you forward onto his desk so that your bent over the top, his muscular torso resting gently across your back. Gently, almost agonizingly slow, he begins to drag his metal arm across your stomach, around until it’s just barely resting on your ass. “You’ve gotta tell me you want this, or I’ll stop,” he whispers. “But I’ve seen the way you look at me. I think you want this as bad as I do.”

“God, yes, please, Mr. Barnes!”

The words have hardly slipped past your lips before he’s bunching up your skirt and nudging at your panties. You should feel ashamed, you think, at how wet you already are at the simple action, but by god did you touch yourself thinking of this man.

“Soaked already,” he practically purrs as he teases at your entrance. Before you can get too much enjoyment from the sensation, he quickly pulls his hand away. “But you still fucked up. Still almost cost me millions. I need you to know,” he says as he eases himself from on top of you, keeping one hand pressed gently to the center of your back and the other resting on one of your exposed cheeks, “how bad that could have been.”

Before your brain can register what is happening, James’ palm connects to your asscheek with a loud smack. You jump, having been unprepared for the assault. Just as quickly as the last, his palm connects to your ass two more times before he is rubbing the sore spot in soothing circles.

This was...different. Never mind the fact your boss of five fucking days has you bent over his desk, ass and pussy exposed for all to see, but it was actually turning you more on. Spanking had never been something you’d thought of when it came to sex, something you probably wouldn’t have even considered with past lovers. But with James, it just felt right.

“No more silly mistakes like that, okay?” he whispers softly in your ear as he continues to rub your now burning cheek. “Or I’ll have to do this again.”

Smack. Smack. Smack.

A wanton moan drips from your lips after the last swat, and you’d be embarrassed if your boss wasn’t spinning your dazed body around, shoving the miscellaneous papers away to clear a spot for your to sit. You watch in stunned as he slowly lowers himself to the floor in front of you, lust-filled eyes never leaving yours.

“Something tells me you might like that, though,” James smiles as he grabs your ankle and carves a path of gentle kisses up to your skirt's hem. Both hands slid the material up your thighs, providing a peculiar sensation of both warm skin and cold metal at the same time. His metal fingers brush ever so slightly at your still-exposed bundle of nerves, and he smirks at the gasp it pulls from you.

“Would you like that, Y/N,” he asks, planting a kiss to the inside of your thigh. “Because I know I would.”

He quickly buries his face between your legs, first with a flat-tongued swipe up your pussy before he begins to suck on your clit. The heat of his tongue, mixed with the shallows breaths he takes between sucking and lapping, causes your blood to run cold and the coil in your belly to twist so tight you’re sure it’s going to snap any second.

“Please, Mr. Barnes. Fuck,” you exclaim louder than intended, and you’re suddenly very aware of where you are. You can’t seem to find the thought to care, however, not with James drinking you in like a man just returned from the desert. He responds to your cries of satisfaction with a light bite to your clit.

As slides down, he tongues at your entrance, his nose applies just enough pressure to your clit to send you reeling. Your hands land in his perfectly styled hair, pushing and pulling at the chesnut stands as he helps you ride out the intense waves of pleasure coursing through your body.

As you begin to settle, James plants small kisses here and there on both your thighs before pulling away. He looks up at you, your juices glistening on his lips and the slight stubble of his beard. He looks as fucked out as you feel, and it makes you slightly self-conscious of what you must look like. He licks his lips and hums quietly, causing another jolt of want to rush straight to your core.

“You taste as good as you look,” he smiles and stands. When he’s back to his full height, he reaches a hand out to help you off his desk. You can’t help but catch the noticeable bulge straining at his slacks, and he must see your quick glance because he laughs and shakes his head. “Don’t worry about it.,” he says, bringing his hand to his lips before making his way around to sit at his desk.

You left standing there, in the middle of an office whose furnishes cost more than your entire year’s rent, fucked out and in shock at what just happened. You don’t know how long you stand frozen, eyes fixated on a vintage Brookly Dodgers poster, but a deep chuckle and the rustling of papers draws you out of your trance.

You turn to find James straightening up the papers he had shoved out of the way, and cleaning up the pen holder must have spilled. You stagger forward, hands out ready to help your boss clean up the mess, but he simply waves you off.

“I hope you didn’t have any plans after work,” James says sheepishly, almost sounding guilty for keeping you over. Almost.

“No,” you say as you anxiously rub at your arm. “Just your average, boring Friday night.”

“Well, I hope I added a little fun to help kick off the weekend.”

You can feel your face heat up as you nod. He winks before turning back to tidying his desk, and you take that as your cue to take your leave. You scurry across the room quickly, and right as your hand touches the door, James stops you.

“By the way, great job on your first week. I was more productive than I’ve been in years thanks to your organization. I really appreciate it.”

You smile, face heating up even more. You take the compliment to heart, bathe in the way it fills you with pride. “Thank you, Mr. Barnes.”

“Hey, uh, call me Bucky. Mr. Barnes or James or whatever is too impersonal, and I think we’re well past that stage.”

[captainrexisboo]

Comfort pt 4: Decisions

IT’S HERE. I’ve been working on this chapter for months. Hopefully it was worth the struggle ahaha. Partially took so long because I’ve been feeling better! I have a great support system in place, and so getting to this point was really just a matter of putting myself back into the exhaustive mindset. That said, I’m able to work myself back out of it (thank you therapy)! Working on part 5 as y’all are reading this, let’s see if it takes me another two months to pump it out lmaoooo. But seriously, thank you guys for your kind words and support, love y’all!!!

No warnings apply, aside from general sadness and self-doubt. Also pining. Rex x Reader, reader is a woman, questions and comments always welcome. Also I need to write Ahsoka more.

Tagging: @pro-fangirls-unsocial-life @000ayfh @pinkiemme @midnightredemption @simping-for-fives @danger-xylophones @iscream4clones @jyvorakal @leias-left-hair-bun @vesperstalksclones

Link To Previous

Link to Next

~

“So you’ll be seeing him today?” 

Rex walked straight to you after the briefing, squeezing his hands behind his back. You were going to be separating for the day, him with Cody to go greet some new troopers and introduce them to their assigned battalions, yourself accompanying Admiral Yularen as he was invited to surprise inspect some nat born recruits. Sergeant Aurin’s recruits. You sighed, rolling your eyes, “Not by choice, Captain.”

“I know,” he grumbled, modulator muffling his voice even more, “Be careful, alright? I don’t trust this guy.”

“We’ll be at a work function, I don’t think he’ll try anything. Especially since I’ll be with the Admiral this time instead of his ‘competition’,” you stood as tall as you could, chin high as you tried to gather your courage, masking your clear anxiousness with a sly grin. Besides, teasing the Captain always made you feel better. No one has corrected your ex about you and Rex yet, and frankly you wanted to keep it that way.

Rex chuckled low, the sound a little hollow, looking off to the side as he shifted on his feet, “I just want you to be alright.”

“If I’m not, I will be,” you gave him an all too wide smile, one you knew he saw right through as he cocked his head to the side, “Promise, Captain.”

You bid Rex goodbye with a salute, one he returned before turning on his heel to meet the Marshal Commander. You gathered your datapad before following the Admiral through the halls. He was a stoic and serious man, one that cared about the men assigned to him, and was able to use his wit calmly even in the most dire of situations. His level-headedness made him a good offset for the very action oriented General Skywalker, and typically you were thankful to be lucky enough getting assigned to him. But not today.

“Are you feeling alright, Miss Y/N?” he looked back to see you trailing behind him as opposed to being on his left as usual. He stood just as straight as Rex, not quite as tall, looking at you with eyes that reminded you vaguely of your father’s, and suddenly you couldn’t even begin to think about lying to him.

“Not especially, Admiral,” you chuckled sheepishly, “But I’m fine to continue with you, sir. I just have to gather myself is all.”

He stood in place, letting you catch up, only speaking when he fell into step with you again, “I don’t suppose you consider me close enough to tell me the issue? I can perhaps assist in finding a way to resolve it?”

“It’s not like that, sir,” you shook your head, picking up the pace as if to run away from the conversation, “I can handle it just fine. We should hurry, the Sergeant is waiting for us.”

He didn’t say anything after that, just raised a brow at your averted gaze before turning his head forward again. You knew he didn’t believe you, but gracious that he respected your request to drop the subject. You bit your tongue, an attempt to keep you focused on something other than the burrowing feeling of your stomach, or the quickly restricting muscle in your throat. The closer you got to the nat born barracks, the harder you bit down. Still, you moved forward, thinking about any way you could deflect an attempt to talk.

If he said hello, you’d just nod and say just the one word back.

If he asked how you were, you’d say fine.

If he pries, you’d ask him calmly to leave you alone.

You will not lose your cool. You will not break your wall. Your mask will not crack; you’ll be ice.

But then the strangest thing happened. He ignored you. He barely looked you in the eye when you walked up, talking only to the Admiral. You only stammered out a single hi when the Admiral introduced you to the other officers standing with Aurin. You were there, frozen and eyes wide as you clenched your jaw, steeling yourself for the offence to come- but it never did. The Admiral entered the barracks with one of Aurin’s officers, while the Sergeant stood outside next to you. The tension was thick, causing you to unconsciously shuffle on the balls of your feet. You continued to bite your tongue, trying to keep your thoughts occupied as he stood stock straight next to you.

You thought about that huge stack of reports to go through when you got back, courtesy of the General’s leadership tactics and the general 501st chaos.

You thought about how you promised Commander Tano that you’d pick up the special tea blend she liked before heading back to the flagship.

You thought about how you were going to run to Rex as soon as you both had a free moment, and you thought about how you had no idea that silence could be so blaringly loud.

You had switched from biting your tongue to chewing your lip, twisting a stray lock of hair between your fingertips as the silent moment dragged on, your anxiety digging deeper and deeper into your gut. You stole a glance at him out of the corner of your eye, seeing as he gulped down a breath. But that was all you saw- the inspection was over, the Admiral was shaking hands and saluting goodbye to the Sergeant and his men. You barely got a nodding glance.

This is what you wanted, right?

This is what you told him you needed, he was listening to you- that’s good, it’s a step in the right direction. Right?

You had asked for this.

So then why did it hurt so much.

You were silent the entire way back to the flagship, saying a minimal amount of words to be polite to anyone who came up to you. The interaction (or lack thereof) consumed your thoughts wholly afterwards while you ran a few routine errands before making your way back to the flagship, causing you to just barely remember to pick up and give the Commander her tea. The kind, knowledgeable Padawan immediately noticed something was the matter in your thousand yard stare, clasping her hands over yours in concern, the tea now just an afterthought, “Y/N, what’s the matter? Do you need something?”

You gave the young Jedi a dull, thoughtful look, corners of your mouth barely turning up, “I can’t seem to lie to anyone today. No, Commander, I don’t need anything right now, but thank you for your consideration. I’ll be at the desk in the Admiral’s office should anyone need me.”

You bid Ahsoka goodbye with a small nod, walking down the corridor without an ounce of your usual spirit. Ahsoka looked down at the tin in her hand, weighing the tea blend absentmindedly. She was young, but certainly not stupid, she knew exactly who you needed to see. Gripping the present tight, she ran through the flagship until she got to the office she was looking for, not even bothering to knock.

“Rex!” she burst through the door, the Captain she was looking for dropped his head as his fingers came up to rub at the bridge of his nose.

“Vod’ika,” he grumbled, laying down his stylus, “I can’t entertain you every time you get bored-”

“I’m not here for that, it’s Y/N,” Ahsoka cut him off, taking three purposeful steps and slamming her hands on the desk, prompting Rex to look up into her sky blue eyes, shining with worry. His own widened as he stood up from his desk, not even bothering to grab his helmet as he followed Ahsoka out into the echoing hall.

“What’s wrong? Is she injured?”

“No, physically she seems fine,” Ahsoka explained, stepping quickly and talking quicker as she led Rex to Yularen’s office, “But she seems really sad, and she didn’t want to talk to me about it. I know you and her are pretty close, so I thought-”

“We need to stop by the kitchen.”

Ahsoka paused, looking back to see Rex already walking down the turn toward the mess. She jogged to catch up to him, breathing out a snort of laughter, “I mean, I didn’t think now was the time to think about food, Rexster.”

“It’s not,” Rex rolled his eyes at the nickname gesturing an arm out as if the explanation lay right in front of her, “It’s for Y/N. She likes to talk over caf, if I bring her some, chances are she’ll let me stay and whatever’s happening in her little head we can discuss. And if she doesn’t feel like talking still, the caf will act as a reminder she has people to talk to whenever she’s ready.”

Ahsoka blinked at him. She didn’t expect this amount of thoughtfulness from her ori’vod, and the gears in her mind started turning. An impish grin took over her face, canines flashing as she slunk up beside the soldier, “You know, Y/N is really nice…”

Rex raised an eyebrow, immediately suspicious as he held the mess door open for the Padawan, “Yes...she is…”

“She’s awfully lucky to have someone like you looking out for her, getting her caf, talking over administrative work, visiting each other’s offices during hyperspace jumps…” Ahsoka took a bit of a pause, stopping just inside the eating area, waiting for Rex to walk right by her to whisper just to him, “...giving each other really long hugs when you think no one’s around.”

Rex paused in his step, unable to stop a ruddy blush from heating over his face. Kriff. He cleared his throat, straightening up, “How’d you find that out, Commander?”

Ahsoka shrugged, giving him a wiggle of her brows, “Security cams, Rex ol’boy. Did you really not think about those?”

Rex groaned, squeezing his eyes shut, “I didn’t think anyone looked at the recordings…”

“Not many clones do,” Ahsoka explained, “We’ve got a lot of nat born officers in the surveillance offices. And boy, sir- do they love their gossip.”

Rex continued his trek to the instant caf machine, exhaling heavily as he surrendered to the teasing he was being subjected to. He rolled his eyes, getting two insulated tumblers to fill, as he started the machine, “Where are you even going with this, Commander?”

“I thought you’d never ask,” she giggled, latching onto Rex’s arm excitedly, bobbing on her toes as she jabbed a finger into his pauldron, “You like her!”

“And?” Rex deadpanned, switching a full cup for an empty one at the dispensing nozzle, “I’m not gonna deny what’s obvious, and I get plenty of osik from the rest of torrent about it anyways, who don’t know about the...the, uh, hugging-”

“So why don’t you do anything about it, dummy?”

Ahsoka was about to give him a headache.

“When she and I first started actually talking, she had gone through a really emotional break up,” Rex treaded carefully, this wasn’t his story to tell, but it was the bare-bones basic of how his friendship with you had grown, so it seemed like a good place to start, “I offered her my support, and I’ve kind of become her confidant since then. I’m not going to ‘make a move’ or anything, not until she says something. She’s still healing, Ahsoka.”

Ahsoka had stopped bouncing, mulling over Rex’s words. Rex was pouring in your preferred cream and sugar ratio, having memorized just how you like it, almost meticulous in the act. He picked up the cafs, walking steady, careful not to spill, “Where is she, her desk?”

Ahsoka nodded, mind still turning as she followed Rex out of the mess, “So you’re just gonna be there and listen to her problems until she decides that she likes you too?”

“Yup.”

“Does she listen to your problems too?”

“If I feel the need to talk about them, yes.”

Ahsoka stops in front of him, hands on her hips and eyebrow raised, “And what if she decides that she likes someone else instead?”

Rex’s shoulders slump for a moment, looking a little crestfallen, lips downturned and eyes shifting off to the side as a sad shine comes over them, “I’m not naive, I understand how big of a possibility that is. If she makes that decision, then that’s her decision. I can’t force someone to like me-”

“But does she know you’re even an option?”

That made Rex stop mid-stride. Surely you knew he was, right? He thinks back on the past few months, the things you’ve both confided, the tears you’ve shed, the countless moments you’ve both spent in each other’s comforting embraces. Your laughter. Your quiet moments. Surely… you knew, right?

The silence stretched, and Ahsoka looked too smug for her own good as she crossed her arms, chin up with full confidence, “I think you should tell her.”

Rex shook his head, taking himself out of his trance before he began walking again, “I don’t know-”

“It doesn’t have to be today,” Ahsoka clarified, falling into step beside him, “But you should. It doesn’t have to be dramatic, or one of your attempts at flirting-”

“Hey, I can flirt-”

“-just a brief confession.” Ahsoka pitched her voice low, what she thought would be a mimic of his voice, “Y/N, I need you to know I have enjoyed getting to know you, and that I find you extremely attractive, so much so that just holding you distracts me from thinking about the simplest of things, like the surveillance crew that’s always watching-”

“Hush up,” Rex hissed out, now just a couple of feet away from Yularen’s office. He wasn’t nervous, he couldn’t be nervous about talking with you, the both of you talked all the time, about everything. But actually dwelling on his feelings for you out loud with Ahsoka, acknowledging his emotions outright to another sentient did make him more, um, aware of the situation. Suddenly he was transported back in time, on the landing pad, leaning on the ship’s hull and waiting for you to board with your tear glazed eyes and trembling lips. He froze for a beat, staring at the closed doors, swallowing a breath. When did his throat get so dry? He let out a slow exhale through his mouth, almost whispering to himself, “I’ve been in this position so many times already… why does this time feel like the first again?”

“Maybe you’re getting tired of waiting,” Ahsoka offered, looking up to him and giving him an encouraging pat on the shoulder, “Maybe you’ve made a decision.”

She walked away in that moment, leaving Rex to fend for himself from his own thoughts. Damn Jedi and their cryptic messages. He rolled his neck and shoulders, letting his eyes fall shut as he breathed through his nose, trying to calm himself back down. After he felt himself loosen up a little bit, he pressed the call button by the entrance door.

“Admiral Yularen is on the bridge. If you have something for him to sign, leave it in the-”

“Y/N, it’s me,” Rex interrupted your rehearsed response, already feeling his posture tense back up, “I brought you caf.”

It was just static for the moment, your finger still on the speaker button. After a couple of seconds it clicked off, and the doors hissed open. Rex took a last steadying breath, and took the final steps inside.

[obeymeaskme]

Obey Me!: Human and Demon Hearts!

A/N: Make sure to check my pinned post for the whole story so far!

Chapter Two: Reaching the bare minimum (2/2)

Word Count: 1,926

Rating: 18+

Away in her self cleaned room, Noelle had laid in her bed. Face burrowed in the pillow, as she sobbed quietly. Thankfully enough time went by for her tears to subside, as a knock came from her door. Grumbling about being interrupted from almost falling asleep, she turned on the lights, and opened the door, peeking her head through. She didn't see anyone immediately, but caught the sounds of Satan's footsteps and soft humming as he walked back down to the dining room. A soft warm, and earthy smell dragged her attention to the plate of food sitting on the ground. A side of normal looking mashed potatoes, and a ham and pineapple dish made her sigh in relief of not having to go hungry for the night. She ate her food, and decided to wash the dishes in the morning.

The full swing of the weekend had stirred Noelle from her sleep. And much like she promised herself, she got dressed and made her way to the stone kitchen to wash her platter. She jumped slightly as Satan and Lucifer were already in the kitchen, yet they showed no sign of noticing her. Noelle ducked behind the wall, not wanting to intervene just yet. Her heart almost sank as she quickly learned what Satan was explaining to Lucifer, which was what she had told satan the previous day in the library. this caused her emotions to rush back to her while Satan expressed concern over Levi's attitude to her during their art class. Lucifer seemed to hum in thought and had quickly reminded Satan that this was what she had asked for, and a small argument broke out.

It seemed that even Satan was aware of how cruel his brothers were beginning to act towards her. Lucifer seemed stunned at his reasoning, and shot back at him, reminding Satan that he wasn't the eldest, and he doesn't know a thing. Noelle felt herself become defensive for the only Demon she had found safety in. she stood in the doorway, a set of tears stroked her cheeks as she spoke.

“So what?” Was all she could muster with her crackling voice.

The two brothers seemed stunned. Satan felt the growing anger and defense within her arise. Feeding into his own sin. Lucifer closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose before responding.

“And just how long were you standing there?”

Another surge of courage ripped through Noelle, as the familiar sensation of being pushed too far made her swallow what tears she had shed. Her voice came back out in full.

“Long enough. If you're going to talk shit about me, at least grow the balls to say it to my face, coward.”

A line was crossed and Lucifer had glared at her. Noelle's hand reached over her lips, touching them gently. Part of her was surprised and impressed, but the other part of her knew how grave of a mistake she just made. Lucifer was the Avatar of Pride. A demon who found entertainment in being above everyone, unchallenged. He even showed some grace as he sauntered up to her, backing her up into the hallway and against the wall. The other demons of the house had sensed Lucifer's aura and had made their way to the kitchen, stopping at the scene before them.

It was at that point that Noelle realized why she had struggled so much with the citizens of Devildom.

Lucifer's voice dropped into a growl. An inhuman growl.

“If you're going to be so bold to ask me, I will tell you. You are a small, and weak human in a world of strong demons who could rip you to shreds. If it wasn't for Lord Diavolo's orders to maintain your safety, I'd have yanked that flapping, moronic tongue of yours out of that little useless cavern you call a mouth. So we shall make this clear once, and once only. Do. Not. Speak ill of me like that again. Or so help me, there will be 'a case of rules meant to be broken'...”

He took a quick, short pause to inhale deeply, and spoke with a final, shaky voice.

“Along with a few broken bones, do I make myself clear?”

Noelle's body was only able to shake violently in fear. She heard what he had said; What he had threatened. Her mistake was forgetting where she was, and what she was surrounded by. Demons.

Her mind may have refused to process a response, but she felt every inch of her body screaming “I'll behave”. White hair and brown leather blocked her vision, and Mammon stepped between them, trying to coax Lucifer down from his rage.

“Alright there, uh Lucy! You don't have to go that far! And besides, the kid's shaking in her boots! I think um- she gets your point.”

A silent scoff was heard, and he looked past his brother and gave a final glare before walking away. Finally out of his eyesight she realized the black wings of his apparent demon form. She watched as the almost emperor like clothing, along with the wings, burned to ash, showcasing Lucifer's casual outfit. Then she dropped to the floor.

Breathing heavily, and still shaking. Even with her physical form showing her fear, her mind became painfully calm in contrast to the intense moment that just passed. The remaining brother's grew uncomfortable, but a small chuckle was heard. It came from Levi.

“Wooow! What Did you do to make him so grouchy?”

Satan started scolding Levi for such a vicious remark, and Mammon knelt down to Noelle's side, cautiously placing a hand on her shoulder. He jumped a bit as she got up quickly, and walked halfway to Levi, catching his attention. She looked around at the brother's before her. She spoke, her voice stuttering and shaky.

“Grouchy- That's just grouchy? You- you all just.. you- just stood there. Why? Why would- why would-”

Mammon had quickly placed a hand back on her shoulder as the rest looked on in sympathy. Even Leviathan had realized the trauma that was just bestowed upon her. Satan was next to speak, walking up to her and ruffling her hair in an attempt to lighten the mood.

“Yeah- That's Lucifer when he's grouchy. What you just witnessed was a Demon Feeding. Come to think about it...” Before he finished his thought, Mammon gathered everyone's attention and reminded them that it was best to go back to what they were doing. Leaving just Satan and Noelle in the hallway. He looked at her. Having felt the anger and confusion she had hidden so well in the moment. He felt it all crumble, and then he felt... nothing.

He led her into the kitchen, and she watched him as he made the family breakfast. Silence drumming out to their ears. That was until Noelle found her voice again, calm and recovered.

“That was... scary...”

Satan hummed in response.

“It could have been worse.” He looked back at her, studying her in her response.

“what... was that about Demon feeding?”

Satan chortled, clearly amused by something, but answered her nonetheless.

“Before you had decided to entertain everyone just then, I was telling Lucifer, or more so reminding him, that you're human. A lot of times you have kept yourself vulnerable. You're mostly honest, you tend to reach out to others before they even consider asking for help... to a demon you're a very tempting snack.”

Noelle shuddered and swallowed her collective saliva, as she listened to Satan explain further.

“Demons, even if they're fallen angels, have this weak spot for humans like you. The response to that weak spot can go one of three ways. The first two are usually the most common, I'd say about 99.5% common. A demon will take interest in your soul and have the urge to make a contract with you, or will Feed off of you. Which is exactly what everyone has been doing to you. Well except me and the few others who don't bother interacting with you.”

Noelle tilted her head, and Satan sighed, resting himself next her, as she sat on the counter.

“What I mean is, since you're a relatively pure and kind person, despite your perverse sense of humor, you're the kind of person demons just love to torment. When a Demon Feeding takes place they're, in a way, suffocating your soul, and eating at the desired emotion they want.”

Satan rubbed his neck, and an almost visible light bulb went off as he turned towards her, seemingly excited with what he was going to say.

“It's almost like chewing bubble gum!”

Satan's smirk grew playful, and he elicited a laugh out of Noelle. Through her short laugh she asked him what he meant, to which he responded with great theatrics-

“It's just a taste of the soul without eating it! Incubi, and Succubi do it all the time! Ew-”

Noelle laughed harder at his outburst, almost falling off the counter. Satan had caught her before doing so, and led her off the counter tops back to the ground. She was quickly silenced by Satan's glare at her before he finally spoke up again.

“The best way to prevent this, is to not back down. Don't give anyone else the ability to scare you, or get what they want. I won't lie, because you've already gave some a taste it will be harder to fight them off. Bella hasn't been affected by the same condition because Belphegor and Beel have the most history with humans, therefore lacking the desire to take what's not rightfully theirs.”

He began to speak with a light blush.

“I'll even admit that seeing you overwhelmed with anger, made me tempted to feed off you as well... It's an instinctual thing... and it's.. different from what Lucifer did to you.”

Noelle scrunched her face in confusion.

“what do you mean?”

“that third option... The .5% reaction... If a human and demon have some form of common ground, then instead of wanting their soul, they find pleasure more so in amplifying emotions. It's like when you protected Bella when you first got here. She gave you the strength to face demons without thought. It's like an urge to connect with a human, except it's through a more spiritual means. So technically speaking... this was my fault. I think I accidentally amplified my feelings towards Lucifer to you. So uh- I'm sorry.”

Noelle nodded at him, and smiled lightly. A soft weight lifting from her shoulder as she gave him a hug. Speaking as she pulled back.

“It's okay. I'm just glad this just means no one here completely hates me... I was worried. Maybe you need to stick around me more often ya' know? Give me a boost of confidence to start finally sticking up for myself.”

Satan smiled at her, and playfully thought about it before nodding at her.

“Perhaps I do...”

“Hey Satan?”

“Yeah?”

Noelle sniffed the air and before she could ask, Satan had jumped up and rushed to the burning food.

“SHIT!”

[flameo-firelord-hotman]

Idiot — Sokka x Fem!Reader

Genre: not sure...crack/fluff?

Warnings: none

Words: 2.1k

Summary: after spotting you in the marketplace, Sokka is head-over-heals for you and makes several foolish attempts to woo you.

A/N: I had to do it. This is yet another contribution to @fromthewatertribe’s 1k event! But this time I decided to write something a little silly with my boy Sokka. I used prompt #16: “you are like sunlight.” Enjoy :)

Masterlist

“Wow this marketplace is huge despite being such a small town,” Katara commented.

“Yeah, and it has so many cool things. Look at those pink lemons!” Aang exclaimed, pointing to one of the fruit stalls.

“And these Earth Kingdom hairpieces!” Katara added.

“And that bag over there!” Sokka said. Then, he saw you. “And her...” he said dreamily. Quickly, he approached your stall. Okay, be cool, Sokka. Be cool! he chanted in his mind.

You were organizing your products and making sure everything looked neat, when you heard someone cough to get your attention.

“Helloooo there!” Sokka greeted you in a lower sounding voice. He gave you a smug look and leaned his elbow on the countertop.

Ugh, not one of these guys again, you thought. It didn’t happen often, but it was still annoying when some customers would try to hit on you. Still, you had a job to do, so you put on your customer service smile and played nice. “Hi! How can I help you?”

“Well, I was just…inquiring what wares you were selling in this boutique here,” Sokka replied, still faking his voice.

Seriously?

Katara overheard her brother and stepped in to save you—and him—from an awkward conversation. “Pardon my idiot brother. He’s just interested in that bag over there,” she said, pointing to one of the bags on display. Sokka glared at her.

“Oh! Ahaha, sure thing. That bag is 10 silver pieces.”

“I’ll take it!” Sokka said enthusiastically. As he handed you the money, he tried to think of something clever to say to you. Come on, Sokka, think! Say something that’ll make her fall for you! When you handed him the bag, he got an idea.

With the bag in his hands, he admired it saying “this bag sure is fine, don’t you think?”

“It’s nice, yes,” you simply replied.

“So fine…just like yo—"

“Ugh, for crying out loud!” Katara suddenly groaned. She grabbed Sokka’s arm and dragged him away. “Quit hitting on her and let’s get going, will ya?” You chuckled as the siblings mocked and grumbled at each other while walking away.

“Why did you do that?” Sokka cried.

“Do what? Save you from embarrassing yourself?”

He scoffed, “if anything you embarrassed me!”

Katara groaned and pinched the bridge of her noise. She couldn’t believe how utterly stupid her brother was.

“She was totally into me!” Sokka continued, “didn’t you see the way she looked at me? We were connecting...and then you ruined it!”

“Or maybe she was looking at you, because you were being a complete weirdo.”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Idiot,” Katara muttered.

“I know you are, but what am I?” Sokka jeered.

“Spirits, Sokka!” Katara cried, throwing her hands in the air.

The next day, the trio returned to the marketplace to do some more window shopping. Sokka snuck away from the group to talk to you again. He was determined to impress you and win his heart. As he approached your stall again, he devised a plan. Alright, here’s what you’re going to do, Sokka. You’re going to go up to her, introduce yourself, get her name, and then ask her out. Easy peasy!

Whistling as he walked, Sokka went up to your stall. “Oh heyyyy,” he said with a grin on his face.

“Hey,” you greeted. He leaned on the countertop just like he did yesterday. You noticed he was sporting the bag he had bought from you.

“I don’t know if you remember me, but—”

You giggled. “I do actually. You’re the silly guy who bought that bag from me yesterday,” you remarked, pointing to the bag.

“Yeah! Yeah...uh, the name’s Sokka. I’m from the Southern Water Tribe,” he said, extending his hand. You reluctantly shook it.

“I’m [y/n]. I live here.”

“That makes sense! Uh, you work here; therefore, you live here!” he commented awkwardly. He was trying to make conversation, but was clearly failing at it. You actually found it funny, not his comment, but the fact that he was making such a fool of himself again. None of the guys who hit on you were like this. You decided to play along purely for entertainment.

“Yes, that’s right. I’ve lived here all my life,” you said.

“Wow, that’s amazing!”

“Is that so?”

“Yeah! You know what else is amazing?”

“What?”

“You,” he said with a wink.

Okay, that was kind of smooth…but I’m not giving in just yet, you thought. “Why? Because I sell bags every day?” you playfully asked.

“Yeah!” Sokka immediately responded without thinking. Then, he dreadfully realized what you said. “Well, I mean, um…that is interesting, yes. But uh…” Sokka stuttered, trailing off. His plan wasn’t working out so well. You didn’t respond the way he expected you too. By now he should’ve asked you out, but now he was off track, and didn’t know how to recover.

“So, uh, are you here to buy something? Or…” you asked, interrupting his thoughts.

Shoot! I’m losing her. I need to think of something quick! He racked his brain, trying to come up with something witty or funny to say. “No, no...I’m, uh...um...” he scratched his head. Nothing came to mind. It was time to abort mission. “You know what? I forget. Bye!”

And he bolted. You kind of felt bad for him. That Water Tribe boy was trying his best to flirt with you. It was too bad he sucked at it. But at the same time, it was funny.

Sokka ran through the streets of Shí Zhèn. He needed a new plan, but he couldn’t think of anything. He needed help, but he couldn’t ask his sister for advice, because he knew Katara would tell him to leave you alone. That left only one other person: the 12-year-old, very inexperienced Avatar. I’m so screwed! he groaned. But he had no choice; he needed to find Aang.

At last, he spotted him at one of the marketplace stalls.

“Hey, Aang!” he shouted.

“Hi, Sokka! Check out this tiny sweater I found. I think it’s supposed to be for babies, but it fits Momo perfectly!” Aang smiled. He held up Momo to show off the little green sweater wrapped around Momo’s small body. Momo chirped happily.

“Yeah, yeah, that’s fantastic,” Sokka quickly said, unimpressed. “Listen, you have no game, but you’re also a wise guy. I need your help.”

“Um, thanks, I guess? What’s up?” asked Aang.

Sokka sighed, lovestruck. “This girl at the marketplace...her name’s [y/n]. Everything about her is stunning: her face, her hair, her voice…so stunning that I keep making a fool of myself in front of her.”

“Aw, that’s so cute Sokka! Isn’t love a wonderful thing?”

“Uh-huh, yeah, so how do I impress her without being an idiot?” Sokka wanted to get straight to the point.

Aang thought for a moment. He had virtually no experience in the dating world. In fact, he was struggling with his own crush on Katara. “Well, the advice you once gave me was to not be too nice and act aloof, but—”

“That’s it! Thanks, Aang!” shouted Sokka as he ran off.

Sokka rushed back to your stall. When he got within sight of it, he slowed to a stroll. Then, he proceeded to walk past your stall multiple times while acting aloof. Every time he did, he would look at you from a safe distance to see if he caught your attention.

To him, it seemed you hadn’t noticed him. The truth was that his new tactic was so painfully obvious and cringey that you pretended not to see him.

Still determined, Sokka approached your stall and pretended to look at the bags on display. Well, if he’s going to play pretend, then I will too, you decided. And so, you put on that customer service smile again and acted oblivious to him.

“Welcome back,” you greeted him.

“Hi,” Sokka said curtly. He didn’t even look up at you.

This’ll be good, you thought. “What brings you here again?”

He shrugged his shoulders. “Just looking, I guess,” he stated in a bored tone.

“Okay. Well, I see you’re looking at the wicker bag. That one’s pretty popular.” He merely grunted as a reply. You continued. “It’s made of rattan. Very durable, water resistant, easy to clean, and holds a lot. What do you think?”

“Meh, it seems alright.”

“Just alright? Is there anything specific you’re looking for?”

“Eh, nothing really.”

At this point, you were entertained enough. You were done playing around. “You’re funny, you know.”

“Huh?” Sokka was completely caught off guard.

“Yeah! Flirting with me, and then suddenly acting like you don’t have a care in the world. I think it’s funny.”

“Oh...” was all Sokka could say. I’ve screwed myself again, haven’t I? he worried.

You leaned on the countertop, getting closer to Sokka. “Want to know what else I think?”

“Uh...”

“I think you’re trying too hard. I don’t normally let guys hit on me, because they’re usually creepy about it, but you’re actually nice and funny. Instead of pretending to be someone you’re not, I think you should just be yourself when you ask me out.”

“Wow,” Sokka muttered in astonishment, “even when you call me idiot, it’s amazing.”

You burst out laughing. “See? You’re funny! And, yeah, I didn’t want to say that out loud, but...you read my mind.”

“Alright, I’m going to start over!” Sokka decided. Dramatically, he did a jump and spin, then threw his hands in the air and beamed as if he transformed into his true self.

“Hi there! My name’s Sokka,” he said with newfound confidence. “Has anyone ever told you that you are like sunlight?”

You threw your head back and laughed again. He gave you look of confusion.

“You’re so goofy!” you laughed, wiping tears from your eyes. “That’s really sweet though, keep going!” you begged him.

“Okay,” he chuckled, “well, I think you and me should hang out tonight. What do you think? We could walk through the streets, eat dinner, stargaze,” he said, hands waving in the air as he spoke.

You put your finger to your chin, pretending to deeply consider his offer. “Hmm, I don’t know, goofball,” you mumbled sarcastically, while dramatically rolling your eyes.

Sokka smirked knowingly. “Oh, come on, sunshine. You know you can’t resist silly Sokka!” he said playfully. To top it off, he scrunched up his sleeves and flex his arms. When he gave you a cheeky grin and bounced his eyebrows up and down, you cracked up once more.

“Pft, okay, goofball. You’ve won my heart. Meet me here at sunset!” you cheered.

“YES!” Sokka shouted before jumping in the air and clicking his heals victoriously. If he could do a backflip, he probably would’ve done one right then and there. “Uh, I mean...great! I’ll see you then,” he said, pointing finger guns at you as he backed away into the crowds.

Tired from wandering and shopping, Katara and Aang relaxed in their room at the local inn. Suddenly, the door was forcefully kicked opened.

“Guys, I did it!” Sokka announced as he leaped into the room. Katara and Aang stared at him wide-eyed like a startled deer-dog. Then, they glanced at each other, unsure of what he was talking about.

“Did what?” they both asked.

“I have a date with [y/n],” he sighed dreamily. If heart eyes were real, they would be popping up on his face.

“That’s great, Sokka! I’m so glad everything worked out for you,” Aang smiled.

At first, Katara felt out of the loop, then she realized who he must’ve been talking about. “Oh, don’t tell me you harassed and that poor girl again!” she facepalmed.

“Oh, no, no, we chatted for a bit. She thinks I’m hilarious!” Sokka exclaimed.

“She must’ve lied,” Katara concluded.

“Nuh-uh, she was cracking up at my jokes,” Sokka assured. “By the way, Aang, your advice sucked.”

“Actually, it was your own advice...which you gave to me,” Aang carefully explained.

“Well...ugh, whatever! It doesn’t matter anymore. I have a date tonight that I need to get ready for. Later, losers!”

After the door closed, Katara shook her head and sighed, “why is my brother like this?”

[toosicktoocare]

No one asked for this— I just wanted to write how recording statements is actually starting to get to Martin more than he lets on.

Setting: S3 with soft JonMartin.

(Currently taking prompts for The Magnus Archives!)

Tim’s walking toward the door of the archives, though, he isn’t quite sure why because he doesn’t plan on recording a statement. He can’t explain why, but whenever he reads the curved, old, faded letters of a statement, a foul taste coats the back of his tongue. One of the “perks” of this job, he assumes. 

Still, he finds, more often than not, that he’s oddly drawn toward the archives, that, during his aimless wandering throughout the day, he always ends up outside the archives door. Most of the time, he doesn’t open the door, but a few times, he’s found himself in the archives, staring blankly at a statement almost as if in a trance.

He stops before the closed door, hand frozen in the air just before the doorknob. He can hear a voice filtering softly through the small gap at the bottom of the door, and he drops his hand to his side and leans forward, listening closely.

Martin, he concludes almost immediately. He can hear Martin reading through the ending of a statement, his voice slightly darker, almost edging the line of an unknown, furious passion, as if he’s the one who wrote the statement originally. But, when the statement ends, he can hear Martin let out a long, shuddering breath, and then Martin’s stuttering through his final thoughts, his voice barely above a whisper and cracking every few words.

Tim’s muscles twitch with a muted need to open the door, to try and bring comfort to Martin, especially since Martin’s been appearing rather zombie-like over the last few days, paler than normal and almost dazed. But, just as quickly as the feeling flicks across his bones, it disappears because how can he bring comfort when he, himself, is unwillingly to accept comfort?

He breathes through a quiet sigh, his shoulders slumping against the low breath. He may not know how to help Martin, not with the Institute bearing down on him, but he knows who will.

***

Jon’s lost within a statement, his mind wrapped around the cursive words on the paper in front of him, when his phone begins buzzing insistently beside his leg, promptly scaring The Admiral off the couch.

He expects Georgie or Martin. He even begrudgingly expects Elias, but what he doesn’t expect is to see Tim’s name flashing across the screen. He makes a split second, conscious decision to keep the tape recorder on as he answers the phone, heart already taking to a too quick thump against his ribs.

“T-Tim,” he stutters in lieu of greeting, voice echoing the surprise etched across his face.

“Jon.”

Tim’s voice, as it has been for weeks now, is cold, indifferent, and Jon’s heart falters slightly.

“How, um, how are you?” There’s a long sigh on the other line.

“I didn’t call for a friendly chat, Jon.”

While Jon didn’t expect Tim’s call, he’s not surprised by Tim’s tone, by Tim’s attitude toward him. Still, he can’t keep the wave of muted defeat and guilt that washes over him, and he sinks back against the couch, lightly pinching the bridge of his nose with his free hand.

“Why did you call then?” Another, longer sigh follows, and he swears he can hear the cogs turning in Tim’s mind.

“It’s Martin.”

Jon bolts forward, body tensing around the two words, and his fingers tighten around his phone. “What’s wrong? Is he okay?” He begins to mentally curse himself for not doing more to keep his staff safe as numerous, grim scenarios cross his mind.

“He’s fine. Well, actually, he’s not. But he’s not hurt or anything.”

Jon struggles to decipher Tim’s words, seeing it as some foreign code he simply doesn’t have the time time crack. He can feel panic lacing the edge of his mind, and it mirrors in his tone. “Get on with it, Tim. What’s wrong with Martin?”

“It’s the statements.” 

Tim pauses, voice quiet on the other line, and Jon presses his phone a little harder to his ear, waiting with bated breath.

“He’s not you, Jon. He can’t just read one then move onto the next one. I think they are really starting to get to him. He doesn’t seem well.”

Each word is heavier than the previous, and Jon can feel the weight against his chest, an unseen pressure pushing past his ribs to his lungs and heart. It’s a cold feeling, and he unconsciously shivers.

“I can’t... You need to talk to him.”

Though Tim doesn’t say it aloud, Jon knows what’s gone unsaid, and he mentally supplies the unspoken conclusion of Tim’s sentence: ‘Because this is your fault.’

“Of course,” he mutters into the phone, already pressing stop on the tape recorder and getting to his feet, determination breaking the pressure in his chest. “Is there...?”

“No. Nothing else.”

Tim goes silent on the other end, but he doesn’t end the call, and Jon takes a moment to pause where he’s been shoving his feet into a pair of boots and just hang onto the notion that Tim’s still there, that maybe he hasn’t given up on him completely.

“Right.” Tim clears his throat. “Bye, Jon.”

The call drops, and Jon pockets his phone with a faltering frown, confused, but, for the first time in a long time, slightly hopeful for Tim sounded just a smidge more normal toward him in those last three words.

***

Jon’s made it to the archives door relatively unseen. Though, he’s aware that Elias knows he’s here without having seen the man, and he did share a silent, mutual nod with Tim when they crossed paths a few moments ago.

On the other side of the closed door, he can hear Martin mumbling through his final thoughts on a statement, picking up on the evident, tired frustration laced within his tone. His stomach twists uncomfortably, and, as he’s been on the other side of this door one too many times, he knocks, rapping his knuckles lightly against the wood.

“Oh, um, c-come in.”

Jon pushes the door open, holding one hand out when Martin jumps to his feet, knocking some papers over in the process.

“Jon!”

“Careful,” Jon says quickly, stepping into the room fully.

“Sorry,” Martin’s voice falls slightly, his cheeks going pink. “Why are you here? Er, well, I didn’t mean for it to sound like that. Don’t get me wrong, Jon. I’m happy you’re here... Well, I’m happy to see you, I mean. Just,” Martin pauses, hands tugging at the bottom of his shirt, “what brings you here today? Need more statements?”

Jon takes a moment to drag his eyes from the dark circles casting shadows underneath Martin’s eyes, up to his rumpled hair, looking as if he’s spent far too long raking his fingers through it, and to his eyes, meeting the wide, almost panicked look that makes his heart sink low into his stomach. He’s sure that he’s been on the reverse side of this countless times, and he briefly considers apologizing to Martin for putting him through this so many times.

Without fully working through his thoughts, he spits out the first, coherent word. “Lunch.”

“Sorry, what was that?” Martin steps around the desk, rubs one hand over the back of his neck.

“Lunch,” Jon repeats. He clears his throat. “Would you... Do you want to join me for lunch?”

“Oh. Oh! Um...” Martin’s face flushes a deeper red, and if Jon weren’t completely worried about his health and mental well-being, he would consider smiling.

“Sure! Yeah. Lunch sounds great.”

***

Jon opts for a small diner that’s about a ten minute walk from the Institute. It’s quiet when they slip inside, the lunch rush not quite kicking in yet, and they’re quick to put in their orders when a nice waitress greets them at their table, a corner booth a bit away from wandering ears.

They take to small, mindless chatter at first, with Martin doing the bulk of the talking. He talks about the staff, Elias, a movie he watched the other night, a new convenience store that’s opened close to his flat, but when their food arrives, Jon takes very quick note to Martin picking up and setting down fries without actually eating anything.

“You aren’t eating.”

Martin flushes a soft pink, and he bows his head slightly. “Oh, sorry! I’m not that hungry.” His voice grows soft with the admittance, and Jon frowns, ignoring his burger entirely.

“Are you alright, Martin?”

“What? Of course!” As if to further prove his point, he shoves a fry in his mouth with a forced smile.

Jon considers his options, finally working through the fact that the truth will most likely yield better results. “Tim called,” he says, and Martin raises a brow.

“Have you two made up?”

“Not exactly,” Jon mutters lowly. “He’s worried about you. He thinks the statements are starting to... get to you.”

“Oh, I’m fine!”

Jon can see right through Martin, reading his practiced, light-hearted attitude like an open book. He sighs quietly, finger absently smoothing around the rim of his tea cup.

“Martin, I know how hard this job is. You can... I want you to know that you can talk to me.” He picks his words carefully, not wishing to push Martin under the pressure of compulsion.

And yet, Martin all but deflates across from him, and Jon’s hand twitches with a jolting need to reach out to him.

“I really am trying, Jon. It’s just... Some of the statements... I don’t know how you do it,” Martin admits. “Each one brings this chilly fear that I can’t shake. It follows me home.” He pauses, eyes casting to the table. “I’ve been dreaming about the statements, you know? Nightmares really.” He laughs weakly. “It’s a bit embarrassing, but I’ll wake up screaming. I’m a bit worried my neighbors might file a noise complaint.”

Jon’s hand stops its absent movement, instead falling to the table and curling into a tight fist. His teeth are clenched tightly, and the anger that floods his mind bleeds down to his chest, burning against his heart.

“Why haven’t you said anything?” He can’t help the demanding tone. He only hopes that Martin will know it’s out of pure concern.

“I didn’t want to worry you! You’ve had so much going on. The murder... the kidnapping! The last thing I want to do is whine to you about how some of the statements scare me!”

“You’re...” Jon sucks in a shuddering breath and holds it in his lungs, unsure of what’s the correct thing to say, lost for words as he’s so used to spitting out sentences that were written for him. He knows that he wants to assure Martin that his feelings are completely valid and that his fear is justified. He knows that he wants to run back to the institute and slam Elias into a wall. He knows that he wants-

“-Jon? Are you alright? You’re shaking.”

The breath Jon lets out is long, uneven, but it helps to ease the prickling, hot anger. “You need to tell me when you’re feeling overwhelmed with the job. I know I’m not there, but I’m still the archivist.”

The label is sour on his tongue, but it’s what he knows needs to be said. “Believe me, Martin, when I tell you that this is not a job you can do alone.” He wishes, in that moment, that it is a job he could do alone, that he could relieve his staff of their duties without any consequences, but he can’t. So, he’s stuck with the next best thing.

“So, you have to let me help you.” Martin’s gone still across from him, mouth agape slightly, and Jon’s just considering that he somehow broke Martin when Martin finally clears his throat.

"Okay.”

Jon’s not sure if it’s a trick of the poor lighting in the diner, but Martin’s pale face looks a bit better, taking to a soft pink color, and unconsciously, Jon reaches out, cupping his rough palm atop Martin’s hand.

“Call me, Martin. Even if it’s in the middle of the night, if you need me, call me. I want to help.”

Jon’s not sure how, but he’s verbalizing what Martin’s been saying to him through looks alone since he first because the archivist. It’s an odd feeling being on the other side, being the one who’s deeply concerned for another. He pulls his hand back when Martin gives it one, tight squeeze.

“I will,” Martin whispers, and Jon smiles, soft, but unabashedly genuine, and the wide, open smile Martin returns momentarily takes Jon away from every single worry.

For just a moment, it’s just Jon and Martin sitting in a small diner, and Jon clings to that.

[catrasredemption-moved]

I'm really struggling and hurting with what's going on in the fandom right now as im losing the only comfort i had in quarantine. could you please write something happy post-s5 catradora based on noelle's statement that once Adora realises she's in love with Catra she'd be SO into the reslationship?

((I get you, Nonners <3 *hugs* Again, white af, so I’m going to limit my comments, but - it isn’t all downhill from here. Try not to give up)) (((Disclaimer it’s almost 4am and my sleeping meds are kicking in, so I’m sorry if this isn’t completely coherent)))

Adora had never half-assed anything in her life.

And she’d be damned if she was going to start now, at a time when being fully on her game was more important than ever.

“I just want to do something for her!”

Bow practically had hearts in his eyes. Glimmer was a little less impressed. “I’m pretty sure if you just stayed in bed and napped together all day, she’d be happy.”

“I know, I know.” Adora sighed. “But that’s not - I want to do something good. Like, really show her that I love her.”

“Take a vacation.”

“Glimmer!”

“What? I’m serious,” Glimmer insisted. “If you just like... took an entire week off to do nothing but spend time with her, she’d probably be speechless. Which I would pay to see, by the way.”

Adora frowned, thinking it over. It was true that Catra would probably be floored by Adora taking a week off, no need for She-Ra or anything, just for her.

“I don’t know. Do you think it’s enough? What should we do? What do people do on vacation?”

“You could just travel?” Bow suggested. “You know, get as far from Bright Moon as you can then call Glimmer for a ride back or something when you’re done.”

It was... actually a good idea, Adora thought. They’d spent their whole lives in the Fright Zone wondering what was beyond the Whispering Woods. They could actually see things now. They could see a world full of magic!

The happy thoughts died almost as quickly as they had started. “I... I dunno. I mean, it sounds great, but that would take more than a week, and-”

“Take a month,” Glimmer encouraged. “Take six months, honestly. You guys saved the universe. If anyone’s earned time off, it’s you.”

“That’s a lot of time.”

“And you’ve earned it,” Bow assured her. “Maybe not six months - I mean, you should take six months but I know that would drive you nuts. But take a month. Go places. Spend time together. I think it’d be good for you guys.”

Adora chewed on her thumbnail for a moment before slowly nodding and smiling. “Yeah. Okay.”

This whole thing had started with Catra not feeling like a priority in Adora’s life, after all. A month together would be the perfect way to show Adora she was invested and she cared. Perfect. * * * * * * * * * * * * Catra didn’t get back to Bright Moon that night. “Your cat passed out on my couch,” Mermista informed Adora flatly, turning the screen so Adora could see Catra curled up in a tight ball, sleeping.

“Is she... okay?”

“She’s dumb. Sea Hawk found her almost sick with heat stroke and had to drag her away from the house she was working on.”

Adora’s heart jumped to her throat. “She’s... She’s really trying hard to help with Salineas.”

“And I appreciate it,” Mermista admitted in a rare moment of genuine honesty. “But I’ll appreciate it less if she kills herself in the process. If she’s going to die, I should at least get the first shot.”

“Glimmer can come get her, if you want.”

“Nah, she already feels like hell. She can sleep it off on the couch.”

Adora scrubbed her eyes, smiling weakly. “Thanks, Mermista. Sorry, I guess I should’ve warned you, she gets really intense when she actually puts effort into things.”

“She’s not someone I would’ve pegged for a workaholic. Want me to wake her up to say... I dunno, good night or whatever you guys say to each other?”

“Nah, let her sleep.” Adora wanted Catra home, wanted to talk to her about a vacation, but she was sleeping, and that was more important than anything. She’d been exhausting herself for nearly a month working on Salineas. And while it was earning her some begrudging tolerant will with Mermista (who firmly believed actions were better than any apology Catra could ever say), Adora was worried. A vacation would really do her some good. * * * * * * * * * * * * Glimmer and Adora went to Salineas the next morning to get Catra. They thought it was reasonable to assume she was still sleeping off the heat stroke at the palace.

“Nope, she took off before I woke up,” Mermista said flatly when they found her. “Sea Hawk tried to find her, but he’s not exactly subtle about it, so she probably had plenty of time to hide.”

“Great.” Adora sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “I’ll... track her down.”

“Tell her if she’s going to keel over to get out of my kingdom. She can die on Bright Moon’s turf.”

“Tell her not to die,” Glimmer added.

“Yes, and yes.”

Mermista pointed Adora in the direction of where they’d found Catra yesterday. She approached a half built house, quietly climbing up the ladder at the side and finding Catra working on the roofing.

“Seriously?” she asked, resting her arms on the edge of the roof. Catra looked up, surprised.

“What?”

She looked exhausted, her face flushed red. Adora sighed. “Are you coming home any time soon?”

“Yeah, yeah.” She went back to work, distracted. “Sorry, I dunno what happened yesterday.”

“You made yourself sick working in the sun all day.”

“Sea Hawk overreacted.” Catra waved Adora off. “He’s just scared you’d kill him if you found he let me overwork myself.”

“Sooooo you’re admitting it?”

“No, that’s just his logic.”

Adora shook her head. “Come on, take the day off and come home. I wanna talk to you about something.”

“I really need to finish this.”

There was a weird moment where Adora thought she understood how Catra had felt for years. Catra had been working nonstop on Salineas for a month, and Adora was starting to feel a little ignored.

But she also understood Catra’s side. She took a deep breath, hauling herself up onto the roof and crawling over to Catra, gently putting her hand on Catra’s and stopping the hammer. “Hey. I get it, okay? But you’re not responsible for fixing all of Salineas.”

“Actually, I kind of am,” Catra replied bitterly. She was far too warm for it to be comfortable.

“I’m pretty sure Hordak could stand to take a little more responsibility than he has.” Adora couldn’t help but be a bit bitter about that. He had mostly stayed in Dryl, working with Entrapta on tech that would help with the rebuilding process. And that was great and all, but it wasn’t much compared to Catra being out here every day working herself half to death.

Catra let out a long sigh, finally relaxing her hand. “I just... need to do this, Adora. Okay?”

“I get that, but you don’t need to do it at the expense of your own health. And yes, I know I’m a hypocrite. But I’m worried about you.”

“I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not.” Adora squeezed her hand. “And that’s okay. Have you eaten anything?”

“No.” The honesty was nice.

“Did you skip eating because you felt sick?” Catra nodded. “Okay. So... you can leave with me, or Mermista can wash you out to sea so you don’t die in her kingdom.”

Catra looked around, and sighed, finally nodding. “Okay. Let’s go.”

Getting her back to solid ground was a bit dicey, but she held herself up and managed to walk back to the palace without much help.

“She lives,” Mermista said dryly when they arrived back at the palace. Glimmer smiled, although she couldn’t hide her worry.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, I’m fine.” Catra smothered a yawn, scrubbing her eyes.

“Picture of health all right,” Mermista deadpanned. “Look, you built like, an entire neighborhood on your own. Come back when you’re not burning up.”

Glimmer rested a hand on Catra’s shoulder, wincing when she felt the heat radiating off of her. Adora took a moment to whisper, “Thank you for taking care of her,” to Mermista. The princess shrugged.

“Yeah, you know. Whatever.”

Catra was not happy with the teleport back to Bright Moon. Glimmer put them close enough to the bed so she could drop straight onto it, groaning. Good luck, the queen mouthed before disappearing. Adora went to the bathroom, wet a washcloth with cold water, and returned to the bed, resting the cloth on the back of Catra’s neck. She shivered.

“Cold.”

“Yes, because you’re burning hot.” Adora settled in next to her. “So, I had an idea, and I already know you’re going to argue with it, but hear me out.” Catra hummed in affirmation. “I was thinking we should take some time off. You and me. I was thinking traveling, but now I’m thinking maybe go visit Frosta and spend a week in the snow.”

“Oh hell no,” Catra muttered. “I am not going anywhere with snow. That’s where I draw the line.”

“But you’re agreeing to the vacation?”

“I dunno.” Catra raised her head. “When? Can it wait until Salineas is-”

“No.” Adora gently clasped Catra’s face in her hands. “I know this is hard for you, but you can’t hurt yourself trying to fix things. That won’t accomplish anything, and nobody wants to see you hurting, not even Mermista.”

Catra looked ready to argue, but something in her expression flickered. “You’re willing to take time off just to do nothing?”

“Not nothing. To spend time with you. We can hold each other accountable. You keep me strapped down, and I’ll lie on top of you to make sure you don’t run off to Salineas.”

Tears slowly filled Catra’s eyes, and Adora panicked for a moment before Catra spoke. “You’d... really take time off to spend time with me?”

“Of course.” Adora kissed her gently. “I love you, Catra. And I know we’ve been through a lot and done a lot that doesn’t really... support that, and I want to prove it now. And I want to take care of you.”

The moment of silence between them was comfortable. The same silence they could have spent hours in at one point in their lives. “I love you too,” Catra finally murmured. “Maybe taking some off to spend together wouldn’t be so bad. If only to see you try and relax.”

“Ha. Ha.” Adora grabbed the washcloth and began gently wiping Catra’s face. “Glimmer gave us a month, but I’m pretty sure she’ll be happy if we want to take more. Let’s start with getting you better, then we can figure out what we want to do from there. Okay?”

“Yeah.” Catra snuggled into Adora’s chest, taking a deep breath. “That sounds good.”

It had worked. Adora couldn’t believe it. “So uh... I’m doing this relationship thing pretty good, huh?”

Catra snorted, reaching up to push her face away. “Get over yourself.”

[infernalshadowtheif]

Synthetic Blood

After taking over her father's company, Lena Luthor spends her time trying to develop a safe man made synthetic blood for medical science and maybe for herself and her kind too of course. You see, Lena is technically human but she is also technically a vampire, well more of a half vampire that's more or less human except for her extra abilities and vitality. As she tries to develop a Blood substitute her brother Lex attempts to steer her away from the light and back down a dark path that has always beckoned her to walk down.

[Look, vampires are kinda cool and I've been meaning to finish this idea that I literally dreamed about last year so let me know if you guys like it, hate it, or have ideas for it yeah? I'll post it on Ao3 later.] Words: 3,036K 🙃

Lillian took the cold metal brush handle in her hand, making it up to her hair, and started to brush through the already smooth tresses of hair on Lena's head.

"On to more pressing matters, it seems we won't be hunting for a while, seeing that the humans are now more aware of our kind since your brother started his little war with the Kryptonians." The aimless brushing continued a bit rougher than before but not painful.

"How are we to feed then mother, how are you going to feed? I am obviously already prepared but I know you prefer straight from the source." There was a slight hesitation in the last stroke of the cold brush.

Lillian set it down slowly almost methodically as she turned away and towards the moonlit window behind them.

Lena looked after the older woman cautiously.

"Mother?"  Wearily she stood from the vanity mirror and closer to Lillian’s side. 

She received a click of a tongue as an answer before she sighed.

"I hated how it reeked on his body, your father I mean, I hated how the smell of artificial blood was always stuck to him, it reminded me of that awful white meat substitute that some humans love in place of real meat."

"Tofu mother," Lena added helpfully as Lillian sneered further at the window and crossed her arms over her chest in defiance. 

"Yes, that was it. He always smelled of his fake blood, you already adopted his tendencies to not want to drink from the source of what we need to survive, which is fine but I’ll never understand it." She turned her head to Lena almost puzzled.

“Well mother I know that this situation will be harder but I’ll try and figure something out for us. I'm sure I can maybe synthesize something more to your preferences if need be." 

Lillian wasn't the warmest parent compared to most others but after Lex went on with his blood-war with the aliens, she saw that Lena was more stable than she originally thought, especially compared to her son. So through great effort and shattered pride, she tried her best to bridge the gap between her and her daughter as best as she could, trying to make up for years of neglect and misplaced scorn.

With a defeated sigh Lillian finally turned to look at her youngest,

"Thank you, dear, I know you'll try no matter how many times I say I'll be fine. I just want you to  use that brilliant brain of yours for more than just little old me, I'm content with the choices and endless amount of repenting I have waiting for me when it's time." Lillian never smiled at Lena, at least not often, especially as a child, but the one she gave her at that moment was the best one she'd ever seen.

“I think we all do mother. Thank you for taking care of me and letting me wait out the sun for today, I lost track of time again.” Lena lightly skims her thumb over the still healing blemish on her arm, if she were a full vampire like the rest of the Luthors in her family she would have lost it or simply turned to dust as her father did.

“Any time dear, this is still your home too, no matter what your brother claims.”

Lena almost cries, such simple words that her past self would have never dreamed of hearing from the woman before her, Lena simply nods in acknowledgment and heads back out to her car to get back to her apartment.

The drive back to National City is quiet, the long highway back lets her mind playback the hellish day she had, to say she’s dreading the minute she has to see the cities resident Super would be an understatement.

She saw me, I know she saw what I’m capable of. Or at least that I'm definitely NOT human. 

Lena’s thoughts turn darker as she imagines the red-caped hero’s look of repulsion and utter hate when she does truly figure out that she’s a creature of the dark, or, at least half of one.

Her mind spirals further down the dark hole of fear of what she will do with her, so much so that she missed the new set of headlights quickly coming closer in her side-view mirror.

When it finally caught enough to slam into her back bumper she quickly snaps out of it and tries to keep her own car on the road and away from the sheer drop of the mountainside to her right.

“Fuck! Now, what!?” The vehicle sways again as the car behind her clashes into hers, she took one of her more pedestrian cars today so her usual horsepower she’d use to escape is severely lacking this time as another hit on her life is in motion again this week. 

So much for going incognito.

The shattering of her rear window makes her jump, the side of her car slamming right into the metal railing, seeing the lack of ground on the other side has her heart drop right into her stomach as she tries to get control again. 

Big nope to that.

Another pop was registered in Lena’s brain as she finally lost control of her car, her vision spinning just as quickly as the car itself.

“Fuckfuckfuck! I swear, I'm going to stake you myself when I deal with your pets, Lex!” Sweating out of panic, Lena decides that trying to outspeed them won’t happen while in her brick ford car, she figures that she just might have to use some of her power for this one.

Her car makes a sudden stop as the front end crashes through the metal railing at the edge of the road, she was lucky the car became wedged into the twisted metal otherwise she would have had a very unfortunate freefall over the cliff.

Dizzyingly, Lena pries her hands from the steering wheel, her death grip making her bones ache as she tried for her seatbelt next. The sound of car doors slamming shut jumpstarts her heartrate, flooding her system with adrenaline. 

The shadows in the headlights get closer, the sound of a gun reloading, four sets of boots crunching on gravel as they round her car on both sides. 

She is actually scared now, her right shoulder twinges painfully as she tries to rip out the buckle of her seatbelt, “Ah, shit.” They actually hit her it seems, her white blouse is starting to bleed red down her arm the more she struggles on the belt.

A balding man crouches down into her window, his eyes are glazed over, his face is twisted into a sickening grin. “Hello halfy,” He sneers. “Your big brother wanted us to check in on you this fine night, he was deathly worried for your health as of late.” 

His gaze snaps to her bloody shoulder fixated on it for a second or so as he takes a deep breath of warm fresh blood, his dull eyes start to pool red as he takes another lung full of bloody air.

Lena shudders in disgust tilting her face away from his, he reeks of death and rot, ghouls were her least favorite creature that her brother had in his employ.

“Enjoying ourselves are we?” She mutters as his eyes roll open again.

He hums in delight. “He did say your blood was more or less mortal, it's almost humanly sweet.” his smile widens, some kind of old meat seemingly stuck in his teeth and gums as he appraises the state of her and her battered car. “Shame you didn't drive your nicer car, we could have stripped it for parts, but ah, oh well. We’re only here for you tonight then sadly.” 

A creaking noise shook the car as he ripped her driver’s door clean off its hinges, Lenas heightened smell was shocked by a wall of death the bald man oozed when he leaned in to free her of her seatbelt and dragged her out of the car by the scruff of her blouse.

Still dazed and newly freed from the metal deathtrap, Lena saw this as her last chance to try and escape from her brother’s lackeys. “I may smell human but by no means does that mean that I’m weak like one.” Latching onto the ghoul’s arm with shaking hands, Lena uses his own weight to counterbalance them both into the loose dirt and flipped herself over again to grab for his throat. She hates to use it but her power has to be used now before what little blood she does drink wears off and leaves her completely defenseless, she’ll have to kill him quickly.

His body starts to convulse as she uses her hand to tear into his fragile throat, black rotten blood oozing over her fingers as his body finally stops thrashing about. She’s still aware of the three heartbeats of the other goons as she finally stands up, her glowing eyes lock onto a man with mousy brown hair, his own eyes are terrified. They all are.

These ones are all human, two are just boys compared to her own age, and they’re all frozen stock still like rabbits to a fox.

Lena is shaking, she doesn’t kill humans, she won’t stoop to her brother’s level. “Leave, go home and forget about this whole night, I don't want to kill any of you. This man was not human, he likely would have eaten you all after my death so take this as an act of mercy. Please.”

The youngest is seems to want no part so he tossed down his weapon and dragged the other two back to their vehicle, the older ones still frozen and staring at the rapidly decaying body of the now-dead ghoul. “Let’s get the hell out of here guys!”

The car ripped out and back onto the highway leaving a wobbly and drained Lena in the dust, “Ugh!” She shrieks in anger as she kicks the rotten body in her rage. 

Before she can take out more of her frustration on the dead ghoul she hears a familiar chime of her phone’s ringtone, or more specifically, Karas ringtone. 

“Shit. Movie night, I was supposed to be at Karas tonight.” Grumbling as she whipped her bloody hand on her jeans, she bent over to pick up her cracked phone to answer her friend.

“Lena?” Lena sighed, “Hi Kara, I'm sorry for not calling you back, I seem to have run into some car trouble on my way to yours.” Glancing over to her clearly totaled car she winced at the sight of it, “Well more like it's completely totaled now.”

On Karas’s end of the line, she heard a crash and rushing of footsteps, “Ohmygosh! Are you okay Lena?? Where are you, I can come to get you or send my friend to help? Please tell me you’re okay..”

The brunette felt her eyes well up with tears, she really didn't deserve this human known as Kara Danvers, she really didn't. 

“I'm off of creek falls and the main highway near the cliff drop, I'm no worse for wear sort of, I'm standing on my own two feet at the moment so I’d say ok, for now anyway, I definitely need a shower and a lot of sleep after this though.” Lena tried to joke but didn't hear Kara anymore, just a rush of air against the microphone.

Confused Lena checks the line, “Kara? Are you still there?” 

“Y-yeah Lena I'm still here, um, please don't be mad." Now that made Lena pause. "What? Why would I be mad at you?" 

The wind in the earpiece lighted up a bit, "I'm almost there, I'm picking you up, I called Alex she'll be on her way too okay? Was there another car involved or an animal run across the road?" Panic gripped at Lena, Kara can't see this mess! Let alone the rotting ghoul body at her feet, she wouldn't understand!

"Kara, wait, it’s alright I already called the authorities and everything, it'll take a bit but I'm fine right now, also don't drive while on the phone! I don't want to be the cause of yet another accident tonight." Lena hear Kara scoff into the phone, "Thank you for the concern, but I'm definitely not driving, I don't even have a permit." She chuckled at her own expense.

Another pause.

"I'll be fine, just promise not to be mad when you see me? Yelling is fine but don't hate me, please." Anxiety wasn't a common thing for Lena but right now she can feel it clawing up her throat and she swallowed down her guilt of having her sweet fragile Kara seeing what her own monstrous hands are capable of. 

She trusts Kara with her life, she'll have to trust her with her dark secret now. "Only if you promise me the same, it’s a mess over here and I'm certain that it'll be horrific for you to see why." 

Kara hummed in thought for a second, "Well duh, I could never hate you Lena, or any other bad emotion towards you really." She said carefully like if she said it louder Lena wouldn't believe her.

"Ah wait, I think I see you? Oh." Kara whispered then the line went dead.

Lena was sitting hunched against her busted car, looking around confused at the lack of vehicle, Kara nowhere in sight. Letting out a ragged breath Lena let her head fall back with her eyes closed, praying that Kara would listen to her explain the scene before her.

The brunette’s eyes snapped open when she felt a warm hand on her good shoulder, to say she almost shit a brick would be putting it very lightly because right before her was Supergirl, but in Kara Danvers' sweats, T-shirt, and a very red cape with no socks or shoes to top it all off. Being shocked would be a very light word for how Lena is at that moment. 

Super- uh, Kara is pretty much herself while she looks Lena over,  making soft cooing noises as she checks over each scrape and bruise, she all but balls her eyes out when she shifts Lena's shirt to check the gunshot wound. 

"Lena, Rao, I should have listened further out for you, if I was listening I could have stopped this." Lena was a bit slow to process her words but she quickly bounced back and stupidly asked, “Kara? You’re not human?” Kara stilled her hands, “Yeah. I'm sorry I kept it from you ‘till now, I just could never find the right moment to tell you. I was going to try again tonight if that’s  worth anything.” 

Kara did look nervous, wary that Lena was angry about her lying for so long, but instead of being angry Lena just full body laughed at their predicament.

As light tears started to form in Lena's eyes Kara nervously held the brunette's hand. "Lena? I don't know if laughing should make me feel nervous or happy right now." 

Lena chuckled a couple more times and pulled the blonde into a relieved hug. "I've been an idiot, I've been trying to bring up the fact that I'm not human either for the past year Kara, so right now I think it's a bit ridiculous that you've been worrying about the same thing." Lena definitely didn't miss the full bodied twitch Kara did after hearing her say this, she understood though, Lena is technically human but only partially. It was briefly a one sided embrace until Kara hugged her back with almost all her strength, leaving Lena only mildly squished but overall content.

Their little bubble was immediately burst when a black SUV pulled up to blind the two of them, a bedraggled Alex dressed in her own pajamas and combat boots holding a shovel, "Kara. Tell me why did you text me 911 please  bring a shovel! At 1 am Kara- WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT??" 

Alex is out of her car and right by Kara's side almost instantly when the once thought to be dead ghoul flips onto its side to drag its to Lena, grossly gurgling its black blood as it crawls over to the trio.

"That would be what's left of my brother's newest hit and sent to check in on me. He's a ghoul so I probably should have made sure to take the whole head off inside of ripping her throat out." Lena extracts herself from an equally shocked Kara and tugs the shovel out of Alex's limp fingers, "Please pardon me, I'll give it right back." 

Alex looks at her dumbfounded, Lena shrugs as she turns back to the ghoul clearly annoyed beyond belief. "I would say have a nice trip given that you're going straight to hell but I really don't appreciate what you did to my car, " she glances over at the once upon a time pristine white paint job and cringes at the many bullet holes and scratches.

"Actually I'm more pissed that I had to meet you at all, so, bye now." 

She raised the shovel as high as she could with her good arm and swung down with all of her might, the ghoul let out one last hiss as the head fell from his body. 

Exhausted Lena looks back at the gawking Danvers sisters, "Help me clean this up and I'll get you both whatever food you want and could eat for a month?" She was almost certain Alex was going to shoot her up until that offer was in play, both sisters bolted up and came over to help.

"You're also going to fill us in about whatever the hell that thing was and why he worked for your brother." Alex stated as she waved her hand in Lena's direction in an almost protective voice.

"And about the not human thing." Kara mumbled as she grabbed the creatures legs over to the deepening hold Alex was currently working on.

With a big sigh of relief Lena nodded, vowing to answer whatever her two friends asked her.

"Deal."

[trojc-rewrite]

The Rise of Jimmy Casket Rewrite, Chapter 5

Tw - Past Loss

——————————————————————————

The three of them reached the hotel room, and the first thing all three of them did was throw themselves on the mattresses. The room itself wasn’t too big, two queen sizes and a small loveseat, as well as a bathroom and a counter with a microwave and a coffee maker on it.

Toast sighed, lounging on the mattress. Ghost came out of the bathroom, wiping his hands off on his red t-shirt. He looked at him, wrinkling his nose. “At least shower before getting on the bed you dirty ass dope.” He said, frowning.

Toast laughed a small bit, sinking more into the bed. “Not like you’ve never been this dirty laying in bed sir.”

Spooker and Colon looked up slightly from their makeshift pillow fort, entertained by their conversation. Ghost gave him a snarky look, and sat down on the edge of the bed. He looked tired, but not as tired as Toast felt. His limbs felt so heavy, like weights holding him to the bed.

“Long day.” Ghost said finally, messing with a piece of torn thread. Toast nodded.

Spooker stirred from the other bed, a pillow squishing from under his weight. He cleared his voice quietly. “Hey, Ghost?”

Ghost looked over at him, raising a brow. “Yeah?” He asked, sounding somewhat irritated. Spooker ignored his tone, scooching himself forwards from the side of the bed.

“Why did you leave?” He asked softly, cuddling a pillow close to his chest. Ghost’s face went white, before turning red. His tired expression morphed into one of anxiety, avoiding eye contact with the ginger.

“Don’t feel forced to answer sir, you don’t have to-“. Ghost cut Toast off.

“No! No, I do want to tell you all, it’s just, hard.” He said slowly, processing his words. He gave Toast an apologetic look. “Sorry.”

Toast sat up, nodding. “It’s okay.”

The brunet nodded, and took a deep breath.

“I left to protect you all.” He started. “I was getting worse, something was wrong with me. There was this voice in my mind, like anxiety but so much worse. Violent, horrible thoughts. ‘I could kill him for you.’ And, ‘I can protect you.’. It was like the voice knew me.”

Ghost swallowed, Toast noticed him beginning to clench the blanket. He sat forward, fighting off the urge to touch him, he knew that touching him would only make him worse.

“I didn’t want to hurt any of you, even if you all deserve it sometimes. So, I left. To get help for the voice, I knew it wasn’t just anxiety. It was a thing. So, I read around, and got help. One exorcism type thing later, it’s gone.”

He sighed shakily. “The thing called itself Jimmy, and it was not happy that I got rid of it. Or I guess him, but he wasn’t just pissed. He seemed desperate, like, hurt and frantic.

He pleaded like he knew me, ‘No! You can’t get hurt! I have to protect you!’ His head bled, like it had a hole in it. It was horrible. I told him no, and he just.”

Ghost wiped his eyes, the event was hard for him to talk about and Toast wanted to shut it down, but he kept talking.

“He said, ‘Then I’ll make myself come back.’ And then he left. But I knew what he meant. He was coming after you, and the other two. I couldn’t let that happen to you guys, so I left to find you three.” Ghost finished, and looked at Toast with a tired look in his eye. “So that’s why I left.”

Silence hung in the air, thick with anxiety and confusion. And then, Colon jumped up suddenly from the bed, causing pillows to lurch off the mattress. “The scratches!” He cried, “The scratches, the fire, Gavin. It’s all connected!”

Ghost turned to him, his nose scrunched in confusion. “What? What happened that you three didn’t tell me?”

Colon grabbed Spooker, peeling the bandaid off of his neck. The wound was healing, red and scabbed over, with dried blood sticking to the skin. Spooker flailed, smacking his hands against Colon's arm. “We left because we had started seeing these cuts on each other, as well as other wounds like bruises and scratches. Toast has some, I have a big bruise, and this is Spooker’s wound. Toast decided it had something to do with you so we left. Admittedly, I didn’t believe him at first, but he was right.”

Ghost stared at him, wide eyed. “Okay, and about the fire?”

“Well, we were staying at this gross motel and then, we woke up and it was lit on fire. Like in flames. We escaped but that's how Toast got his wound.” Spooker explained, now removed from Colons grasp.

Toast nodded as Ghost turned to him. “Another bizarre thing; we checked out the wreckage in the morning, and in the wood were these green vein-like things. They were glowing.”

Colon settled on the edge of the bed, making eye contact with Toast. “I wonder if it wasn’t Gavin that started the fire. When he hit you on the bridge, he had those lime green flames. They looked almost identical to the ones at the fire site.”

Ghost sighed. “All this for an exorcism. Who does this Ghost think he is and why does he care so much about who’s head he’s in. If I were a ghost, I’d be happy as hell to leave somebody’s head.”

Toast shrugged, “To be honest with you sir, I would have no idea.”

Spooker looked at Toast, “That reminds me, Toast, that night of the fire you were having a weird dream. We could tell, you were whispering about some ‘Mary’ girl. What was that about?”

Toast stiffened, and Ghost’s face turned angry. He spun to Spooker, glaring, “Hey! Don’t you-“

“It’s all right sir, he doesn’t know. It’s not his fault.”

Toast blinked away tears, closing his hands softly around his ring. It took a few minutes to get the words out, they were stuck in his throat, struggling to leave.

“Mary was my wife.” He said quietly, breathing out. Spooker and Colon stared at him. His heart seemed to beat in slow motion, his stomach filled with grief. It had been years since her death, but every time the wound opened it bled again. He closed his eyes, trying to calm down. A few tears fell down his face and he bit his lip.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know. Toast I am so sorry.”

Spooker said quietly. Toast could hear him shuffle off the bed, and he could feel the bed's weight shift as he sat next to him. Ghost huffed quietly from beside him, but Toast was thankful when he didn’t raise an argument.

“It’s all right.” He said solemnly. Ghost sat closer to him, he could feel his best friend's warmth on his side, showing as much affection as he could muster in the moment.

“I bet she was amazing.” Spooker murmured. Toast smiled.

“She was. Her smile was as bright as the sun, and it made you feel warm from head to toe. She had these beautiful hazel eyes, so filled with love. She was beautiful, but her personality was even more beautiful. She was sweet, and caring. But she had that kick to her, sarcasm that could almost beat Ghost.”

Ghost stifled a small chuckle beside him, and Toast knew he was thinking about the time the two had a sarcasm match. Ghost had barely won.

“She would have liked you Spooker, she would’ve liked Colon too.”

Toast dried his tears, sniffling.

Ghost turned to him, his green eye round. “You okay?” He asked.

Toast nodded, “I’ll be okay sir. So, anyways, back to the mission.”

Colon snorted from the other bed, “We can worry about the mission in the morning. It’s late, you and Ghost just got done crying, and you’ve almost died twice in the last 24 hours. We all need sleep.”

Ghost nodded, “And we need to get you to a doctor tomorrow morning too. That leg looks bad, if we wait any longer you could need an amputation.”

Toast let out a groan, “But-“

Ghost shook his head, “Absolutely no buts. This is coming from me, Johnny. Sleep, then I’ll take you to the doctors.”

Spooker looked at Ghost with a confused face. “Can you even drive Ghost?” Ghost rolled his eye.

“Of course I can!” He snapped. “I just don’t most of the time because Toast offers too.” He slipped under the covers, snorting.

“Now shut off the light I’m going to bed.” Ghost grumbled, turning face down on the pillow.

“I’ll sleep on the love seat.” Toast got up, but Ghost grabbed him by the wrist and pulled him down back onto the mattress.

“No. Now get the fuck in bed and sleep.” Ghost demanded. Toast bit back an argument, and slipped under the cover.

Toast felt the warmth settle over him, immediately melting into the mattress. He felt so warm and at ease, like he’d never get up. Colon reached up and turned the fan off, the light going with it.

The air conditioning hummed quietly from the window, keeping Toast at the perfect temperature. Ghost flipped over in the bed, “Hey Toast.”

“Yes sir?” Toast whispered back to his friend.

Ghost shuffled under the covers, “I hope you sleep well.” He whispered awkwardly. Toast smiled.

“You too sir.” He chuckled.

Spooker leaned up in his bed, “Awwwwww.”

Ghost flipped over aggressively. “I’ll kick the shit out of you.” He threatened, throwing a pillow at him. Spooker dodged it, and Colon let out a yelp as it hit him instead.

“Not! Cool! Ghost!” Colon yelled.

Spooker laughed, “Yeah Ghost, don’t throw pillows at Colon.”

Ghost huffed and fell back into bed. Toast smiled so wide he thought his cheeks would fall off.

‘Together at last.’ He thought to himself. Tiredness overwhelmed him, dragging him into sleep.

——————————————————————————

POV - Toast’s wife is dead