#the hole got big enough that my water bottle would just fall straight through

[doctorwhoisadhd]

i just had to spend like an hour and a half doing an involved mend of the mesh side pocket of my backpack instead of lesson planning and sending in my forms for work bc sibling wouldnt let me just borrow their stupid lunchbox for like One fucking day BUT at least i figured out a really ingenious way to do this particular mend so it wouldnt be way MORE finicky and involved and time-consuming

[twjournals]

So Wrong It's Right

Sequel: What's Wrong is Right

Warning: dark!Peter Parker x reader, DUB-CON, manipulation, age gap, drinking

PLEASE READ MY WARNING BEFORE CONTINUING. I am not responsible for your media consumption. Any and all negativity will be blocked.

Word Count: 5.4k

Summary: You're an old troubled friend of May's. Your life consists of being a workaholic, a party animal, and bringing home the shittest of guys for a one-hit-wonder. Just when you get your life in order, you're knocked right back into your old habits. Peter has watched you suffer long enough. He can make it all better.

Your life was far from where you thought you would be. It was sad to say, but you were anything but a role model. Yet May still tolerated you, regardless of Peter. Maybe she used you as an example to show Peter what not to be or maybe she was just too good of a friend to leave you on your own. To say the least, your life was a mess but you could not be more grateful to have a friend like May.

"Peter, go get me a wet rag, please," May spoke quietly. Peter left your side once he helped May get you over to the couch. You were beyond the limits that someone should be drunk.

You were in a fit of hiccups, giggling to yourself as May bent down to take off your heels. You had far too many drinks, that much was clear.

"Maaay, you.." you hiccupped, "are suuuch a good.." you hiccupped again, "friend."

May shook her head with a sigh, taking in the drunken sight of you. She was not sure how you managed to let yourself get this far gone, but every time you would drink, this is how you ended up. Either you had zero limits or you loved to push the limits you did have.

"Pet-" May started to call over her shoulder, but Peter was already hurrying in the room with his hands full.

"I'm here, Aunt May." Peter reminded and she watched as Peter sat the trash can nearby the couch. He then placed the bottle of water on the table with some medicine for the headache he knew would come with your awake in the morning. He kneeled down beside you on the couch, pressing the rag to your forehead.

May only smiled to herself as she pulled the blanket from its spot on the back of the couch and pulled it over your figure. She didn't say anymore. Peter had seen his Aunt May take care of you many nights when you were so shit-faced it was a wonder you could still see faces.

Your head was propped up against a pillow on the couch as Peter wiped your forehead with the cool rag. Your skin was burning up. Peter could not help but wonder how you let yourself get like this. You were quite a few years younger than May, but it amazed him how different the two of you were to be the best of friends.

You were fast asleep in no time, making Peter smile as his eyes gazed over your face. He had always thought you were so beautiful. Too precious to be taken advantage of by the guys you went after. He witnessed many nights when you had told Aunt May about a new guy you had hooked up with. Everyone knew it was nothing more than a one-night stand, but Peter could not help but hate any guys that touched you only for only their benefit.

It was not until you had eventually settled down with a guy you had met from one of your nightstands that you finally stopped ending up on May's couch. You had moved on with your life, still keeping in contact with May every now and then. You were happy. Not just the sex but he was truly seemed like a guy you could see yourself spending forever with.

You had stopped drinking. You had stopped going out to parties. After the first year, you had moved into the city and got an apartment together. Another year later, you guys were engaged and everything seemed to fall into place. After 3 years, the wedding was right around the corner.

Your world moved at a quicker pace now considering all the things you needed to get done before the wedding. In between work and house chores, you were planning for your big day.

As time went by, you were so wrapped up in your own little world you did not notice the slow-burning flame in your partner slowly being put out. While your plans had been coming together, your relationship was falling apart. You had for the most part ignored all the signs and assumed he was having a bad day. It amazed you how many he was having. When you would try to talk to him, it seemed useless since you could never get him to talk about it. In reality, it all brewed into something bigger. It all hit you like a ton of bricks.

You had been working later hours than usual for extra money. It wasn't cheap, but you had told yourself it was okay to want the things you wanted. After all, this was going to be your first and hopefully wedding. You wanted everything to be perfect. You even tried to get opinions from your fiance to include his vision of it, but he insisted you were better at this sort of thing. You couldn't argue with that.

You wrapped up your work at the office fairly early so you decided to call it a night and surprise your fiance. You felt like everything was on track. One night worry-free was much needed. You had earned it.

You pushed open the front door to your apartment before walking through the living room into the kitchen. You sit your keys on the counter, placing your bag on the stool by the counter. You peered around the apartment for a moment. All the lights were off and it was quiet. Had he already gone to bed? You checked the time.

7:13pm

You were surprised you did not hear his game or at least him yelling at it. You started down the hallway to the bedroom you shared, staring at the closed door. Why was it closed when it was just him? You shook the thought a little too soon. Maybe if you had just thought a little longer, you would have prepared yourself for what was on the other side.

You pushed the door open just a little to see inside when you heard a faint moan from the other side. Your heart stopped. You stood in shock taking in the sight of the man you were in love with hovered over another girl in your bed under your covers. Your face was hot in embarrassment, anger. You were feeling so many things right now you could not think straight. You were hurt.

"Are you serious??" You blurted out, causing them both to jump to try and cover themselves.

"You're sick, Chris." She shoved his chest, pushing him off of her as she quickly got out of the bed. "He told me you guys were no longer together."

She scowled as she hurried to gather her clothes off the floor and pulling them on. If it were even possible, your eyes could have burned holes through the girl. You were in disbelief. Your jaw would have already been on the floor if it wasn't connected to your face.

"I'm so sorry." She mumbled, embarrassed as she hurried past you out of your apartment.

You were left to deal with Chris. You starred at him with tears kissing your eyes.

"I-"

You took a deep breath, shaking your head. "Don't."

"I can explain." He started to get out of the bed to dress.

"There's nothing to explain, Chris." You stared at him, trying to restrain yourself from coming across the room and punching him in the face for acting like an explanation could even justify his actions.

"She meant nothing to me." He started to walk over to you.

“You told her we weren’t together. How is that nothing?”

“It felt like we weren’t. You were so busy.” He tried to touch your arm but you shoved his hand away.

"Don't you dare think about touching me when you were just touching another woman." You looked at him with dark eyes, struggling to fight back the cry. He wasn't worth your tears. "I want you to get out."

"Get out?! Where am I gonna go?"

"I don't know." You shrugged your shoulders. "Maybe you could have thought that through."

He frowned, running his fingers through his hair frustrated. "It doesn't have to be like this. Can't we just talk this out?"

"No!" You shouted at him, making his eyes grow wide. You could tell he wasn't telling this as seriously as you. "I don't want to look at you right now." You turn to leave the room, but he grabs your arms to turn you to face him.

"Please. Look, I can- I can stay on the couch tonight. I'll give you your space and when you're ready we can talk about it. I was wrong for that. I fucked up and I'm sorry." You yanked yourself from his hold.

"You can give me space by leaving. Pack yourself a bag and go."

"I love you, Y/n. I never meant to hurt you."

You shook your head as your eyes wandered over the bed to where they once were before meeting his eyes. "You mean you never meant to get caught."

He sighed before hanging his head in defeat and walking by you to gather up some of his things. You didn't move from your spot. Only stared at the mess of a bed. The place you made love to him while he made love to another. You listened to the front door close behind him on his way out before you finally covered your face, letting the tears fall.

For days, weeks, all you could seem to do was feel sorry for yourself. You couldn't find the strength to get out of bed. No matter how many calls you received, you let them ring through to voicemail. Everything you had felt for him was in ruins. You changed for him. You let yourself grow for him and even that wasn't enough. After all the time you spent picking up after him, cooking, cleaning, planning, staying loyal for crying out loud. You didn't know what else he could of you.

You had called off the wedding in the time you stayed closed up in your apartment. Even took some time off of work to handle it all. You took that time to gather every piece of him scattered around the apartment and packed it up. You wanted to end this as painless as possible aside from the pain you were already feeling. You had thrown away the sheets and replaced them, even get a new comforter and it still didn't feel the same anymore to lay in your bed. You stared at your phone beside you as it lit up for what felt like the hundredth time. You finally sighed, lifting the phone. You knew without even looking at the name it was from him.

You canceled the wedding? It doesn't have to be like this. I still love you, Y/n. You were so busy with work and all the planning. You abandon me. Whenever I wanted your attention, you were always too tired to pay any attention to me.

It's like the girl I fell in love with was gone. Some time ago, you couldn’t keep your hands off of me now it’s like I have to beg you to touch me.

You're being selfish.

You can't be THAT mad, Y/n. I’m a man. I have needs. You were busy and she was willing to help. We can fix this. Don’t give up 3 years. Don’t give up on me.

There were loads more, but you could not care to bother reading the rest. You tossed your phone back down on the bed, rubbing your hands over your face. You didn't owe him anything, not even a response. The girl he was talking about was not gone. She was only on hold to plan a wedding by herself and it was more stressful than he knew. You wanted to forget everything that had happened. You wanted to forget you wasted 3 years of your life planning on growing old with this man.

--

You weren't sure how you had got this far and with that being said, May wasn't either. You had talked May into joining you to a night out at a club. She needed a night to herself and you needed a break from everything. Along with that, if you had stayed inside that house a moment longer, you might have gone insane.

"You're going to be hammered if you keep on like that." May reminded with a laugh, both of you clinging onto the bar and each other for the extra support. You thanked the bartender as he pushed your last round of shot glasses in front of the two of you.

You smiled, passing a glass to May before keeping one for yourself.

"We can only hope." You winked at the bartender who only chuckled before clinking your shot glass with hers and downing your shot.

Your throat was already numb from all the alcohol you had already numbed it with. May wasn't far behind you. You took your final shot, grinning and pulling May along with you to the dancefloor to get lost in the sea of people. You threw your arms around May's, moving your hips as you both danced to the music.

This was the therapy you needed. Sometimes you had longed for nights like this. You had freedom. You had no worries, aside from worrying who you might wake up beside. But you had fallen in love and even though you had grown up, you had not nearly grown out of this lifestyle. It was all too familiar.

"Hey! I'm going to the bathroom! I'll be back!" May moved closer to you, raising her voice to be heard over the loud music. You nodded, watching her pushing her way through the crowd of people to get to the ladies' bathroom before easing yourself back into your dancing.

You swayed, grinding your hips with the rest of the crowd. You weren't the slightest bit bothered to be dancing by yourself. You used to lose yourself on the dancefloor for hours days after days years ago.

"I've missed this." You heard a familiar voice speak from behind you, startling you when their hands landed on your hips with your sway. They pulled you back against them, catching you off guard. "I've missed you." He mumbled in your ear, sending chills down your spine.

You peaked over your shoulder to make sure your mind was not playing tricks on you. It wasn't. You prayed it was an old one-night stand, but of course, it was the one person you were trying to get away from.

"It doesn't work like that, Chris." You dropped your hands down to his on your hips, trying to push them off your hips but they only hold you tighter. "Get- get off of me." You gritted through your teeth as your eyes glared at him. "Get off!" You raised your voice.

"Now, now, let's not cause a scene. You've had quite a bit to drink haven't you?" He wrapped your arms around your figure, making your blood run cold as his body pressed to yours.

"That's none of your business."

"I'm your fiance. You are my business."

"Ex." You corrected him. His nose flared slightly.

"You really want to go there? You're nothing without me. You're shit-faced in the middle of the club and you can't even accept my help?" He growled and you pushed on his arms.

"I don't need your help."

"You're drunk. You don't know what you need." He spat.

The sound of someone clearing their throat interrupted your argument. "I think I've got it from here." You looked up to put a face to the voice, your eyes widening slightly.

"And you are?" Chris didn't budge while staring down Peter as if challenging him.

Peter was reaching his hand out for yours. "Her boyfriend." You stared up at Peter in shock at how much he had changed over the years and he smiled reassuringly.

Chris stiffed slightly and you could feel his eyes burning a hole into you. "Is that true?"

You didn't take your eyes off of Peter, taking a hold of his hand and letting him pull you out of Chris's arms. "Yes." Your voice was hushed.

Chris scowled. "Wow. I wish you luck there, man. She's a real catch." He laughed, making you look down. You couldn't believe he was really trying to ruin your night when he had already ruined everything else.

Peter only snaked his arm around your waist, letting his hand settle on your hip while his eyes never left Chris's. "She certainly is." He agreed. He gave your body a warm squeeze, grabbing you closer into his embrace. "Now, if you'll excuse us."

With that, he guided you through the crowd off of the dance floor.

"You okay?" He finally broke the silence once he got you back to the bar, sitting you down on one of the stools.

You nodded, letting your eyes wander up to him as he motioned the bartender over. "I'm just curious as to why you're here right now. Aren't you supposed to be in college?"

He smiled as he pulled out his wallet to pay your tab and you grabbed his hand, shaking your head. "No, no. I can pay for my own."

"What if I insist?"

"You don't have to, honestly. I have money."

You started to reach into your purse for some cash but Peter covered your hand, giving you another reassuring smile.

"You'll have plenty of other times to pay. I'll get it this time." He reminded you and you sighed in defeat, giving him a playful scowl. He only grinned, proceeding to pull some cash from his wallet to give to the bartender.

"You didn't answer my question." You continued as he turned back to you.

"I'm still college. I just sometimes stay with Aunt May on the weekends."

"And you just so happened to be here?"

Peter chuckled, pointing in May's direction as she stumbled over her feet returning back to the two of us. "Aunt May called."

You raised your eyebrow, looking over at May as she stood beside you now. "You called Peter?"

"Someone has to get you back home." She reminded you and you hit her arm slightly, tilting your head.

"May, I could have got a taxi or an uber. You didn't have to call him for me." You scowled at her and she shook her head in a tsking manner.

"No, no, no. I called Peter so I can rest assured you got home safely and not by some random stranger."

You rolled your eyes slightly and Peter butted in with an awkward chuckle. "I really don't mind. I don't consider this anything out of the way. I'd rather it be me than some stranger or someone." He noticed him giving the floor a swift scan around the three of you.

"Fine." You pouted your bottom lip slightly before rising from your seat at the bar. "You guys make me feel irresponsible or something." You grabbed a hold of May's arm and pulling her with you to the exit of the club while Peter followed behind the two of you.

"Are you coming?" You muttered over to May and she shook her head.

"Happy is here." Just as the words left her mouth when you started out the door, you spotted Happy parked in front of the building to pick up May. "Peter isn't too bad of a driver." You stopped in front of Happy's car.

"Oh goody, rest secured." You muttered and she laughed. Your arms looped around May's neck, hugging her tight. "I'm so glad to have you back. Message me when you get home." You told her and Happy a quick goodnight before letting her go.

Peter led you over to his car, unlocking the car and opening the passenger side for you. You settled comfortably in the front seat, leaning your head back against the headrest. You didn't like how it felt as if you couldn't take care of yourself, but you were in no position to complain when Peter Parker had yet again saved the day.

--

Peter glanced over at you in the passenger seat from time to time as he drove the distance to your apartment. He tried to keep the glances quick to keep you from noticing. You were just as beautiful as he remembered. It had been years since he had actually seen you, but you seemed like the Y/n he still remembered. Not that it was anything bad. He adored you then, and now a bit more.

He had always had the hots for you for as long as you remembered. Of course, you never minded when you ended up staying with him and Aunt May. You were always kind to Peter and he did his best to nurse you back to health to take on the hangover that awaited you the next morning.

He had never forgotten what you said to him one day while you were sick from the night before. You had been clinging onto the toilet and he had taken the opportunity to hold your hair back out of your face to keep from getting anything in it.

You sighed as he rubbed your back in soothing circles. You leaned against the toilet miserably. That was the day you learned to stay away from tequila.

"I hope I meet a guy at least half as amazing as you someday, Peter."

No doubt did the compliment find its way to his cheeks. He blushed a deep shade of red. He tried to restrain himself from making a big deal but it was a big deal to him. Though he knew he didn't stand a chance right now with his age, it meant if he had been of age, he had a chance. He thought about it even when you had stopped coming around so much. He knew this was all a coping method for you. You were hurting then and he could tell by the way you seemed toward the guy back there that there was more to that counter.

He noticed your shiver as you stared out the window. You mentally cursed yourself for wearing something this revealing. You rubbed your arms to try to warm yourself a little. Peter reached behind him in the back seat to retrieve a hoodie of his he always forgot in the car and handing it to you.

"Here." He offered before fumbling with the heat in the car. He smiled at your quiet thank you, putting your arms in the hoodie and pulling it close for warmth with putting it all the way on. He tried to control the big grin threatening to break across his face.

"I'm sorry you had to keep seeing me like this." You looked over at Peter as he kept his eyes on the road. He didn't realize how thankful you were for him in times like this. It was embarrassing how many times this had happened but you were still thankful Peter didn't think any less of you.

"You really don’t have to apologize.” He smiled at her before turning his attention back to the road.

“I really do though. I feel like you’ve taken care of me enough. I’m grown, you know? It should be the other way around.” You giggled and Peter glanced over at you.

“I’m 21.” He reminded you.

“And I’m pushing 30.”

“You’re 28. You’re still young.” He chuckled.

“Almost 29!” You huffed as he pulled into the parking lot to your apartment. “My point is- you know what my point is.”

He couldn’t help but laugh at your frustration. Your age didn’t matter to him. He could always settle for his MJ, his best friend, but seeing you tonight relit the flame to his crush for you. There was just something about you.

He parked the car in the parking lot, walking around to your side to open the door for you. You slid your arms out of his hoodie and leaving it in the seat as he helped you out of the car. You could feel the shots hitting you all at once when you stood. You stumbled out in your heels, grabbing onto Peter’s arms for support.

“Easy now.” He held onto your waist as he guided you to your apartment, asking for your keys. He took your keys when you dug them out of your pocket, letting you in your apartment.

You couldn’t help but notice all the little things he did for you. You kicked off your heels at the door, stumbling over your own two feet again as you wandered down the hallway to your bedroom. You could hear Peter in the kitchen getting you a bottle of water from the fridge along with some medicine from the medicine cabinet.

You sat on the bed when you hear his footsteps coming down the hallway toward the bedroom. You looked up at him, pouting your bottom lip out slightly when you saw him with a bottle of water and medicine for the headache to come.

He set them down on your nightstand, noticing your pout. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

“Peter, you’re seriously too good to me.” You sighed.

“How’s that?” He looked down at you as he towered over you.

You motioned over to the stuff he had placed on your nightstand and frowning. “All of this. You- you really didn’t have to do this for me.”

“You’re right I don’t. But I want to. I would want it done for me if I were ever in your shoes.”

You laughed slightly at the thought of Peter drunk and you smiled to yourself. “I would definitely be there anytime you needed me.”

You thought back to all the time you had ever been drunk, remembering all the time you woke up to water and medicine from him. Only from him. Even a trash can in case you were to ever get sick, but you never got that with Chris. You always took care of him, but no one ever took care of you. You shook your head with a frown. You had tried so hard to hold it together, but it felt like you were slowly falling apart. He wasn't worth your tears, yet he was always the cause of them.

He kneeled down in front of you, tilting your head up to meet his gaze. “Talk to me. Everything okay?”

You couldn’t stop the words from coming out. “Why am I never enough?”

His eyes widened at your words. “You are more than enough and anyone who doesn’t see that, who doesn’t appreciate you and the things you do for them doesn’t deserve you.” He corrected you, his thumb stroked over your jaw as he held your face to keep your attention.

You didn't know what to say. All you could do was stare. Your eyes scanned over his face before stopping at his lips. Don't. Don't you do it. You mentally told yourself. You couldn't control the effect the alcohol had on your mind and your actions. You tried to fight back the urge but the alcohol only pushed down the buriers you had built.

Your lips smashed against his firmly, catching him by surprise. He was frozen about your lips for a first, in shock, this was actually happening but he surely gave in the kiss. Your hands grabbed at the back of his neck and pulling him onto the bed with you without breaking the hungry desperate kiss. His body hovered over yours as your fingers curled against his shirt, gripping on it. You knew it was wrong. It was so wrong, but you couldn't bring yourself to stop.

Your smaller hands slid underneath his shirt, brushing your hands over his defined abs. He was sculpted by a God. He knew he should stop, but he couldn't find it in him to stop. He didn't want to miss his chance to prove himself to you. He wanted to take care of you.

Your lips parted for air even though you left like you could hardly catch your breath when his lips started to kiss down your neck. Your hands tugged on his shirt until you started to pull it up and over your head.

His hands pushed your tight dress up the curves of your body, tossing it beside the bed once he peeled it from your body. Your lips still tingled from the loss of his and you whined quietly, your hand grasped the curls at the nape of his neck to bring his lips back to yours.

He kissed your lips passionately and letting your lips mold together. He could taste the alcohol on your tongue but it didn't bother him any. He had dreamed of this moment since he was a teen. Your fingers worked desperately to undo his jeans, feeling his bulge already through his pants before your hands pushed his pants off of his hips along with your boxers.

You were so desperate. You couldn't stop the whine that escaped against his lips. "Peter, please..." His cock twitched at the sound of his name falling from your lips.

He dragged your panties down your legs swiftly, placing himself back between them when he spread them open again. He peppered light kisses to your lips as he dragged the tip of precum-coated tip through your folds, not wasting any time to give you what you wanted.

You cried out as you clung to Peter's bareback, feeling his cock stretching you in all the ways you craved. You moaned out, letting him swallow them in a kiss as his hips rolled into yours again and again. He sighed in pleasure against your lips as your walls invited him in. You were even better than he could have imagined.

He couldn't believe this was actually happening. His lips covered your body in his kisses, admiring every part of your body as it sang for him. This was nothing like what you used to. He pressed small kisses against your bottom lip, nibbling on it as your core ached with a building climax. Your legs wrapped around his hips, causing you to gasp at the deeper strokes.

Your head fell back against the pillows, a loud moan drawing from your parted lips. Your fingers held onto Peter's hair as he hit that spot over and over, making your eyes roll slightly. You needed so badly for him to stop, but you couldn't bring the words to the surface.

"Oh my god..." Your core tightened with every deep thrust. His cock touched parts of you no guy had ever. You had never felt a climax so fast or so strong. "Please don't stop..." You couldn't fight the words from coming out. Your grip tightened on his dark hair, feeling yourself falling apart with an orgasm with every thrust.

"You're so pretty when you cum." He couldn't stop even if he wanted to. He was not far behind you by the way your walls sucked him in, milking him for all he was worth.

"Do it again. I want to make you cum again." He groaned against your chest as his tongue dragged over your hardened nipple, flicking his tongue against it teasingly before letting out a groan against your warm skin. He didn't want it to stop. He didn't want it to end. "You feel so good, Y/n..."

His hand reached between the two of you, rolling his fingers over your clit in circles. You gripped onto his wrist at the overpowering feeling. You were soaked to the core. This man made you crumble.

"I-I'm gonna cum.." His voice cracked slightly as your walls clenched around him tight In your second orgasm, pushing him over the edge into his first. His cum filled you full, marking you as he pressed delicate kisses across your neck while praising you in the process. "So beautiful, so perfect."

Your eyes were heavy with exhaustion, smiling to yourself when Peter laid down on the bed behind you. He wrapped an arm around your body, pulling you back against his chest.

It only took a matter of seconds for sleep to claim you as Peter pulled a blanket over the both of you tiredly. It was only a matter of time before the morning came to rain on your parade. Bringing along the guilt and regret that followed.

[ray-ray-writings]

Full of Suprises-DreamSMP Imagine

This is  wholesmp (kind of but not really. It’s only The Dream Team, SBI, Punz, and Tubbo) x gn!reader in the dreamsmp. Hope you enjoy! 

Masterlist here

Y/N is the server’s sweetheart. They’re innocent and couldn’t hurt a fly… at least that’s what everyone thinks. It isn’t until someone catches them working out does the SMP finally see just how badass this person can be. 

Y/N’s POV

I let out a sigh as I wiped the sweat off of my forehead. My workout routine was getting kind of boring and so I decided to add some new things to spice it up. “Okay,” I said to myself, “Let’s finish this out with some sit ups” I breathed out, staring at the metal bar I hung up many days ago. “And then we can go take a bath and relax,” I mumbled, slowly reaching up and grabbing the bar. 

I quickly adjusted and moved myself so that I was upside down on the bar with it resting on the back of my knees. I let myself take a deep breath before pooling all my strength and began pulling myself up with my core strength. “One,” I breathed out once my chest was against my thighs before going back down just to sit up again, “Two.” 

I did 35 of these sit ups before I decided that I had done enough and carefully let myself down on the ground and collapsed on the floor, breathing heavily. As I caught my breath, I heard something in the doorway. “Woah,” a voice breathed out. I turned my head and caught Sapnap’s eyes boring holes into my skin. I gave the boy a bright smile and slowly sat myself up. “Hey Sapnap, you alright?” Sapnap nodded, still a little dumbfounded, “Yeah” he croaks, clearing his throat and shaking himself back into reality. “Yeah, I just… Didn’t know you could do that” I couldn’t help but giggle and shrug my shoulders. “There’s a lot of things that I can do…. Did you need something?” I asked, raising my eyebrow, slowly standing up and grabbing my water bottle and taking a long drink. “Umm… I think so, but honestly that was so attractive and surprising that I seemed to have forgotten what it is I was going to say and do… I’ll um… I’ll see you later.” And then he bolted. 

His behavior confused me a little bit, but I guess it was kind of shocking to see someone you think is very delicate do something not so delicate, especially seeing them hanging upside down and working out. But I shrugged it off and made my way back into the main part of my home. I quickly walked into my bedroom, grabbed some new clothes before going into the bathroom and taking a quick shower. 

When I got out of the shower, I decided to make myself something to eat. I was quickly side tracked by a knock on my front door. My brow furrowed in confusion, I wasn’t expecting anyone… Maybe Sapnap remembered what it was he wanted to say and or do. Well I was partially right. When I swung the door open, Sapnap was standing there. But behind him stood a bunch of other people. Dream, George, Punz, Wilbur, Techno, Tommy, Tubbo, and Philza all stood behind Sapnap with either a confused or a bored look on their face.  

“Can I help you guys with something?” I asked sweetly even though I was confused as to why they were all there. “Yeah,” Dream pipes up, “Sapnap said that you were doing something that we ‘just had to see’” He claims, a mocking tone lacing his voice toward the end of his sentence. I cocked my eyebrow and shifted my gaze to Sapnap who just nodded at me, “Show them what you were doing when I came here earlier” he encouraged. I let out a little laugh, “Well I just took a shower but if you really want,” I teased. A sea of head bobbing made me laugh again. “Okay fine. Come on, I’ll show you.” 

I quickly motioned my hand telling them to follow me. I turned on my heel and made my way through the house to my little workout room. The nine that followed behind squeezed their way into the room. They watched as my hands reached up above me and grabbed the bar. “You guys ready?” I asked, adjusting my grip so I wouldn’t fall and faceplant on the ground. A rumble of “yes”’s came from the small crowd. “Alrighty then.” 

In one swift motion I pulled my feet off of the ground, letting myself hand there for a moment, before shifting and throwing my legs upwards and then easing them back down so that the bar rested against the back of my knees for the second time that day. As I dangled, I could hear gasps coming from the side of the room where everyone was piled. I couldn’t help but chuckle at their reaction before I did a few sit ups like I had done earlier for my workout before I decided that they had their fill and got off the bar. 

When I got off the bar and turned around, everyone, with the exception of Sapnap, was staring at me in complete and utter shock. “Close your mouths” I teased, walking forward, “You’ll catch flies.” An explosion of voices all trying to one up each other in volume sounded from the group. I could only make out a few key sentences like, “that was hot” “I didn’t know you could do that” “You’re so innocent since when-” Another laugh rumbled through my body. “Guys!” I finally called, bringing everyone’s attention back to me. “I’ve been working out like that for a while… I don’t know why it’s so surprising,” I shrugged, genuinely confused as to why it was such a big deal. 

“It’s surprising because you’re you Y/N!” Punz exclaimed, his eyes still wide. “Yeah! I mean, you’re Y/N and that’s just crazy to see and weird” Tommy jumped in. But all it did was make me even more confused. Philza must have seen the confusion still heavily present in my face because he jumped in as well with an explanation, “What we’re trying to say is that you’ve always been so sweet with us that I guess that we haven’t ever really seen you do something so badass before so we’re all a little… shocked so to say.” 

The confusion I felt quickly left my body at the explanation. “OH!!” I exclaimed with a smile, “That makes sense… Well then, surprise! I’m actually really strong!” I announced with a giggle. Smiles graced the faces of everyone there watching me. “Yeah you are Y/N… Say if you ever want to spar, let me know. I’d love to see just how far your skills have progress,” Techno offered up with a half smile. “No, no, no, no!” Dream immediately jumped in before I could say anything, “If they want to spare, they should come to me! I’m clearly the best PVPer and I think that they would flourish best under my training!” “Oh really? Tell me why I’ve beaten you in more duels than you’ve beaten me!” “Hey maybe I want to be the one to train with Y/N!” “Shut up Tommy!” 

Chaos broke out in my home as everyone began arguing for the right to spar with me. I couldn’t help but laugh at the ridiculous excuses some of them gave to try and make their point. My eyes scanned the crowd and landed on one person who wasn’t actually arguing. I quickly made my way over to him and wrapped my arm around his shoulder. “You want to see how long it takes for them to notice that we’re gone?” I murmured in Tubbo’s ear. A bright grin lit up his face as he nodded quickly, “Of course… We’re will we go?” He asked. I slowly began walking to the door and out of the workout room. “To the kitchen!” I announced once we were out of earshot. “I’m starving. All that working out had me working up an appetite… You hungry?” I asked, leading the younger boy to my kitchen. “I could eat” Tubbo responded with a shoulder shrug. “That’s my boy” 

Once in the kitchen, I quickly whipped up some breakfast for Tubbo and I to share. As we ate, we could still hear the arguing of the others in the other room. “Did you really not know that I was that strong?” I asked Tubbo once the both of us had food in front of us. Tubbo let out a small laugh as he scooped some eggs into his mouth. “Oh, I always knew you were strong. One time I watched you deadlift Henry the cow because he was being stubborn and wasn’t moving.” I couldn’t help but laugh at the memory. Tommy had left me in charge of watching his pet cow because he knew I would protect it and wouldn’t kill it. He was right. But when I tried to take Henry back inside after letting him out to eat, Henry wouldn’t come, no matter what I tried. So, as Tubbo said, I just picked the heavy cow up and walked back inside. “I just thought it was funny to watch the others through themselves in front of you and treat you like a delicate little flower. Because you could easily take all of them in a one on one fight,” Tubbo finished, emphasizing his point by taking another bite of breakfast. 

I set my fork down and reached over and ruffled the younger boy’s hair. “You’re the best Tubbo… Don’t tell the others I said that though.” The two of us giggled at that. Together, we finished breakfast, all the while still being able to hear the others argue from my workout room. “You want to go for a walk?” I asked Tubbo once the dishes were cleaned and put away. “Sure! We could even pick some flowers!” He cheered. “I would love that! My house could definitely use some brightening up!” I responded in the same excited tone. 

So the two of us quickly rushed through my house gathering everything we may need for the small trip. Just as we were finally at the front door ready to leave, we heard it. “Wait a minute!” Wilbur’s loud voice called from the workout room, “Where is Y/N!” The room burst in loud noise, most of which was the calling of my name. Tubbo and I burst into a fit of laughter as we heard thundering footsteps leave the room and head straight toward the main area. “Go Tubbo! Go!” I called out, throwing the front door open before sprinting outside. “Hey get back here!” The teasing voice of Sapnap called from behind us. 

The two of us ran for as long as we could, but when half of the server has stupidly long legs, it doesn’t take a whole lot of time for them to catch up. I felt a body hit my own as I was tackled to the ground. Once I was flipped over, I could see clearly the grinning face of Techno hovering above me. “I’ve got you now Y/N, and to think you’re so stro-” Techno didn’t get to finish. I quickly wrapped my hands around his wrists that were pinning me to the ground. I then swung my legs out and around him and in one swift motion I turned us over so that I was now pinning Techno to the ground. 

The look on Techno’s face caused me to burst out in laughter, “I think I’ve got you now Techno” I teased before standing up off of him and holding my hand for him to take. But he just laid there, frozen in shock on the ground. Harsh hands clapped down on my shoulders and Tommy’s cackle filled my ears, “They got you. They actually got you! The great Blood God Technoblade! Pinned the ground by none other than our very own flower Y/N” That was all it took for Techno to spring off the ground and begin charging Tommy. Tommy let out a scream before sprinting away, Techno following closely behind. 

Another arm wraps around my shoulder and this time, Dream’s wheeze fills my ear. “Oh gosh. I’m so sorry we didn’t believe you. That was the best thing I’ve ever seen,” he cackles, leaning his weight on me. I couldn’t help but laugh along with him, his laugh was contagious. “Just remember it next time you piss me off,” I teased, elbowing his side. “Oh don’t you worry. I will always remember this moment. Oh my god!” 

The rest of the group joined us, laughter also bubbling out of their lips. That was a day that would always be remembered. The day that Sapnap accidentally saw me working out and dragged a bunch of people to my home to prove that I was strong. The day that I pinned Technoblade. The day that Y/N became more than a delicate flower that people saw as someone who needed to be protected. The day I became a badass.

There you have it! I hope you enjoyed, and if so, be sure to leave a like! I’m not too sure if I like how this one turned out, so let me know what you thought about it!!!

[disturbedbydesign]

The Widow and the Wolf - Chapter 1

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x dark!exWidow!reader

Summary: After Natasha Romanoff took down the Red Room, the former Widows scattered to the wind. Raised to be a killing machine and released into the world with nothing and no one, you decided to use your newfound autonomy to take down the bad guys of your choosing. But now Natasha is riddled with guilt for leaving you on your own. She wants to recruit you, rehabilitate you, make you part of a team again. But the rest of the squad has reservations, and no one is more against you than Bucky Barnes.

Warnings: Graphic violence; Mentions of domestic violence, rape, pedophilia, human trafficking, child sex trafficking; eventual Dubcon (not Bucky); eventual smut; slow(ish) burn enemies-to-lovers. [More warnings will be added as necessary but these are the Big Bads.] 18+ only, no minors.

A/N: This is canon-adjacent in that I just decided to pick and choose who I wanted to write for and what parts of canon I wanted to use. Best not to think too hard about where it falls on the timeline because the canon is a mess and we all kind of hate it anyway.

If you prefer to read on AO3, you can do so here.

Chapter One

You’ve been tracking him for days, not that it was hard. His patrol schedule is always the same, as is his after-hours routine: drinks at the Irish pub on Reade Street with the other boys in blue. It’s a cop bar but you waltz right in, looking lost even though you know the name, rank, and various misdeeds of every guy in the place. He looks at you, because of course he does—his wife assured you that he has a wandering eye, among his other sins.

You take a seat at the bar. “Double vodka rocks, please.”

The bartender pours you your drink and you take a deep pull, savoring the burn of it. Then you wait, but it doesn’t take long—it never does. Sergeant Thompson sidles up to the barstool next to you.

“Hey darlin,” he says, his breath reeking of cheap beer. “You lost?”

You turn to him with an innocent smile. “Evening, officer.”

“It’s Sergeant,” he says, tapping his badge, “but I won’t hold that against you. So, what’s a pretty young thing doing in a dive bar with a bunch of old men?”

“I was supposed to meet a friend for dinner but she bailed on me. Figured I’d grab a drink before I head home.”

“And where is home?” he asks, not that it’s any of his business, but cops think they deserve answers to any questions they feel like asking.

“Williamsburg,” you lie.

“You’re pretty far from home, then,” he replies, even though you both know that you aren’t. He takes a sip of his beer and the foam leaves a trace like a mustache before he licks it clean. “It’s late. Why don’t you let me drive you? Wouldn’t want you on the subway this time of night.”

“It’s only 8:30,” you say. “I think I’ll be just fine.”

He leans in conspiratorially. “Well, I really shouldn’t be telling you this—open investigation and all that—but we’ve been on the lookout for a guy in the area, serial rapist, real nasty piece of work.”

That’s one thing the two of you have in common at least.

“I’d feel a lot better if you’d let me take you home, darlin.”

“I suppose it couldn’t hurt,” you admit. “Can’t get much safer than the NYPD, right?”

He laughs and so do you, knowing that nothing is farther from the truth—especially when it comes to this guy.

Sergeant Thompson speeds across the Williamsburg Bridge with his flashers on, headed toward the address you gave him. Of course, that’s not actually your address—you don’t have a home anymore—it’s just one of many rundown warehouses in the neighborhood, variously used for impromptu raves and as drug dens and, in your case, a private place in which you can take care of business without fear of being interrupted.

“This is me,” you say, waiting for him to let you out of the back of the cruiser where he insisted you ride—caged in like a helpless animal, or so he thinks.

“This place?” he asks. “Looks like it’s about to collapse.”

“You’d be surprised what they can do to these places on the inside—gentrification and what have you. My rent is astronomical.”

“Still,” he says, “I’d like to walk you up. Looks a bit unsavory.”

“If you insist, Sergeant.”

The second you get up the stairs to the top floor, you inject him with the etorphine, straight into the jugular, and down he goes. It never gets old—how easy it is, when they think that they are the predator and you are the prey. You drag him into the loft where you’re already set up for a long night’s work.

When he comes to, he’s fixed to the chair with (among other things) his own handcuffs, mouth taped shut and a rag shoved in for good measure. You don’t want to hear him talk; it’s time for him to listen. His day of reckoning has come. He starts to squirm but between the cuffs and the duct tape and the sedative still coursing through his veins, he’s not going anywhere. Even if he did get free, you could take him down easy. It’s what you were trained for. It’s what you were born for.

“Welcome back, Sergeant,” you say, and he screams something unintelligible through the rag which, if you had to guess, would be some combination of “cunt” or “bitch” or any of the other choice words he likes to use on his women.

The tarps are laid meticulously around the room, placed strategically to catch any and all evidence of what you’re about to do. When he notices them, he goes still, because he knows. Part of him knows.

“So,” you say, pulling out the Thompson file, “this is quite the impressive resume you’ve got here, Sarge. Lots of civilian brutality complaints, including a few choice allegations from female prisoners. Oh, and then there’s the domestic violence and marital rape. You’re a real charmer, huh?”

There’s more muffled screaming but you ignore it—the last gasps of a dying man.

“Here’s the thing, Sarge. I know you think that you’re above the law, because you are the law, but you aren’t. Your wife is real tired of your shit, and me? Well, let’s just say that my motto is protect and serve.” You lean in close enough to smell the salty sweat on his brow. “And unlike you, I actually mean it.”

You pull your favorite knife from your thigh holster and slit him from ear to ear. “See you in hell, Sergeant.”

You sit on the edge of the table, swinging your legs and watching him bleed out. It doesn’t take long. The actual disposal is the real work. You set about chopping him into manageable pieces and you find yourself missing the days when you didn’t have to cover your tracks alone, when there was a clean-up team to take care of it for you.

But you’re freelance now. You’re not a Widow anymore. She made sure of that.

Sometimes—like right now, when you’re dripping sweat and every muscle in your body is screaming its exertion as you saw through bone after bone—you hate Natasha Romanoff. You know why she did what she did; you understand that, objectively, it was the right thing to do. But did she ever stop to consider the repercussions of her actions? She got out early and found a new family and became one of the Good Guys. But you? You entered the Red Room with nothing and you left with nothing.

They always said you were born to be a killer. It’s all you’ve ever known. So what exactly did she expect you to do? You may be free of the mind control, but you never had the chance to develop a mind of your own. Killing is all you know. At least now you get to pick your own targets.

Once you’ve got Sergeant Thompson all squared away, you pack him up in the trunk of his cruiser and drive upstate, listening to the 80s station you like. It occurs to you that most people have heard these songs a thousand times—so many times that they know the lyrics instinctively, can sing them without even having to think about it. It’s all new to you, though. You can’t decide whether it makes you sad to think about all you’ve missed or whether you’re lucky that you get to experience for the first time what everyone else is already tired of.

When you get to the farm, you dump Thompson in the holes you’ve already backhoed, then you hop on the Cat and fill them all in. You shoot a text to Mrs. Thompson from your burner—just a thumbs-up emoji—and she replies with a smiley face. It was only so long before he would have killed her; she knows it as well as you do. The only people that will grieve the dearly departed Sergeant Thompson are a bunch of assholes who are one false move from ending up in your web.

You didn’t charge Mrs. Thompson your usual rate—just what she could afford without drawing the attention and ire of the Mister. Sometimes, depending on the circumstances, you even work pro bono. After all, you only kill people for money who you would happily kill for free. You consider it a service, something for the greater good of society. You’ll take money, sure—you need it to live and to continue your work—but not from people who can’t easily spare it.

You have standards. You have a code. That’s the difference between the you that served as a mindless weapon wielded by others and the you that decides for yourself how to use the gifts you’ve been given. No women. No children. No collateral damage. Only Very Bad Men who’ve done Very Bad Things. You don’t see the harm in it, not really, and as you settle into bed you come back to the thought you often have before a fitful night of sleep: who’s the real avenger, Natasha?

*****

Natasha wipes her brow and throws the rag down on the mat, grabbing a bottle of water and chugging half of it before she wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. Bucky has barely broken a sweat from their morning sparring session, and he doesn’t even try to fake it. He’s in an especially grumpy mood.

“This is a bad idea, Natasha.”

“To some people, maybe,” she says, “but I want to bring her in anyway. I don’t understand how you of all people are against me on this, Bucky.”

“Uh, for starters, she’s a serial killer.”

“That’s a bit of a harsh assessment, considering the circumstances. And do I really need to remind you that the same could be said about the two of us? That a lot of people still say that about us?”

Bucky sighs, because he knows she’s right, but this is different—you are different. “It’s not the same,” he grumbles, but he’s not entirely sure it isn’t, and that’s what’s really bothering him.

“Look,” Nat says, taking a step toward Bucky, “I need to try, ok? I know what she’s going through because I went through it, except she’s completely alone out there with nothing and no one. You and I… we had people behind us, helping us.”

“And what if she says no?” Bucky asks. “Are you just gonna let her go on doing what she’s doing? She’s killed… how many is it now?”

Natasha mutters something under her breath and Bucky looks at her expectantly. “What was that, Tasha?”

“25 people in the last 6 months,” she states, her mouth set in a hard line.

“Exactly,” he says.

“I would like to point out that they were all very bad people. So...”

“Tasha,” he says, and he puts his hand up to silence her. “I can’t help you on this. I’m sorry. I want to, but I can’t.”

Natasha huffs out a laugh. “You know what, Barnes? You’re real high and mighty for a guy who–”

Natasha stops herself when she sees the ice-cold look in Bucky’s eyes. “Go on. For a guy who what?”

“Nothing,” she says. “I’m sorry. I’ll go on my own.”

“Well, good luck to you. Hope you don’t get your throat slit.”

Bucky stomps off and Natasha is left wondering if she’s about to make a huge mistake. She knows you’re volatile, that a part of you must resent her, but she needs to make it right. At the very least, she needs to try.

Natasha grabs her tablet and scrolls through the latest intel on your whereabouts. She’s just missed you in New York, but she thinks she’s got a jump on your next target: some coke dealer down in Miami with a predilection for underage girls. Just a brief glance at this guy’s file is enough to make Natasha’s blood run cold. She knows why you do what you do. If she’s honest, it doesn’t bother her one bit that you’re doing it. It’s the thought of you out there on your own, filled with hate and anger and thirsty for bloody vengeance, that frightens her. Because maybe one day—left to your own devices, lost in the chaos of your troubled mind—getting the Bad Guys won’t be enough for you. Maybe you’ll decide that some of the Good Guys aren’t so good after all. Maybe you’ll even be right.

She contemplates being honest with Steve and telling him where she’s headed but decides against it. Steve isn’t on board with her plan. Natasha doesn’t fault him for it—he doesn’t understand, he couldn’t. Bucky, though... that’s a disappointment, and it surprises her. If anyone knows what it feels like to spend your life as someone else’s weapon, it’s Bucky Barnes.

Natasha waits until nightfall to “borrow” the Quinjet, and she finds Bucky waiting for her when she gets to the hangar.

“I’m coming with you,” he says, “but only as back-up. She’s dangerous, Natasha.”

“Maybe so,” Natasha replies, “but only because she’s afraid.”

*****

You knew that she’d be coming for you sooner or later. Might as well get it over with. Your little stilt cabin on the outskirts of the Everglades isn’t quite set up for company but at least it’s tucked away and difficult to access. You’re surprised she brought him, though—that was a mistake. You and she could have a nice long conversation, but you have nothing to say to the Soldat.

You climb up the tree to your lookout platform and hoist your sniper rifle onto your shoulder, following their slow but steady progress through the knee-deep swamp water, trying to line up a decent shot as they weave in between the bald cypress trees. When you see your chance, you take it, and you put one about an inch from where the Soldat’s metal arm meets the flesh of his shoulder. It ricochets off, as intended, and he jumps forward to shield Natasha. You hear her laugh through your earpiece.

“Relax, Barnes. It was a warning shot. If she wanted to hit you, she would have.”

“She did hit me,” he snaps.

You smile as you descend from the tree to meet them.

“Well well well,” you say. “If it isn’t the Murder Twins. To what do I owe this unwanted visit?”

“You know why I’m here,” Natasha says.

“Yes,” you reply, “but why is he here?”

The man she calls Barnes looks at you with disdain and you give it right back to him. You can tell that shot in the arm really pissed him off and it pleases you to no end.

“He’s just watching my back,” she says. “That’s what happens when you’re on a team.”

“Right, The Avengers. How adorable.”

“Listen,” Natasha begins, but you stop her.

“Let me save you the trouble of whatever little speech you have prepared. I’m not coming with you. I’m not going to Widow rehab and joining your ragtag group of misfits. And I’m not going to stop doing my work just because you come here and bat your eyes and smile pretty at me.”

“Your work?” spits the Soldat. “Is that what you’re calling it?”

“Bucky, don’t-”

“Let him talk, Romanoff,” you say. “He obviously has some… opinions. Now that he’s got the mask off, he can finally speak for himself.” You take a step towards him, your rifle in hand but not pointed at him. “So speak, Soldat.”

He looks flustered and not a little bit angry. You can tell he doesn’t like to be called by that name. “Killing people isn’t work,” he says.

You huff out a laugh. “And what is it that the two of you do, exactly? Run a coffee shop?”

“We are not the same,” he says, and you smile because you know that he doesn’t actually believe that—how could he after everything he’s done?

“I think we are exactly the same, Soldat, with one huge exception: you’re still letting other people tell you what to do, and I’m done with all that.”

“This is pointless,” he says.

“Now that is something you and I actually agree on.” You turn to Natasha. “You should go while you still can. I have work to do.”

But Natasha just won’t let it go. “I should never have left you alone,” she says. “This is my fault. Let me fix it.”

“I don’t need to be fixed,” you snap, and you raise your rifle and point it directly at her head. “Leave, Natasha. And take your little pet with you.”

The Soldat grabs her arm gently. “Let’s go, Tasha. She’s hopeless.”

You feel a pang of something then—some indescribable form of melancholy. You try to keep it off your face but you can tell from the look in his eyes that he sees it. A minute tremble of your lip, the quick double blink—it gives you away, and now you’re really pissed off.

“Leave. Now,” you yell, and it pierces through the sweltering darkness. “I’ll make you sorry if you don’t.”

You watch Natasha and the bionic man make their way out of the swamp. You don’t turn your back on them, not that you think they’ll try to take you by force. That would be unwise and Natasha knows it. Once you’re satisfied that they’re gone, you return to the cabin. The bloodied man in the linen suit lays strapped to the bed where you left him, squirming and shouting around the gag in his mouth.

You have to stop yourself from making this a messy affair, but the anger you feel—at her, at him, at everything—is making it difficult to temper your darker urges. You’re not one for torture, even though this man absolutely deserves it for the horrible things he’s done. You almost give in, but you remind yourself that this is a job—it is work, despite what the Soldat may think—and you have to remain professional.

You grab the man’s file off the desk and pull a chair up next to the bed. “So, Mr. Garcia, where were we?”

CHAPTER TWO >>>

[prettynxsty]

Just a Pinch

Sub!Jungkook x Domme!Reader

Warnings:  Sweat, nipple clamps, gratuitous nipple play, jungkook has a pussy, biting, sweat, small top/big bottom, futa/girlcock, sadists will get a good kick out of this, squirting, crying from pleasure

Summary: Instead of the overplayed “sub wears vibrator out in public”, it’s the sub wears nipple clamps while working out.

AN: This is a nasty one as usual my friends, enjoy. It’s damn near pwp, honestly.

Your teeth ground into your bottom lip, flicking your thumb back and forth as quickly as possible even though your knuckle was beginning to cramp. You take in a deep breath and your chest puffs up before slowly deflating with a sharp sigh.

“Fuck, yes.” You growled slamming your fist against the bed at your side.

Jungkook’s eyes rolled back with a groan from deep in his gut. “Oh my god, please.”

“Fuck me, fuck me, fuckmefuckmefuckme!” His voice rose into a squeal as his head dips forward.

A deeper growl rumbles in your chest before cutting short with a whoop of excitement. You threw the controller down beside where you were sitting, jumping off of the bed and onto your feet. “Yes! Now you need to make good on your end of the bargain baby!”

He covers his face with his hands, sighing before falling into a small fit of nervous giggled. “You can’t be serious babe.”

“Of course I am, it won’t be for that long anyway, you’ll be okay.” You tittered lightly, practically skipping toward your closet. “Go ahead and get ready, the faster you do it, the faster it’ll be over.

”He scratches the back of his neck, planting his feet on the floor and slinking toward the dresser across the room.

He peels his shirt up and over his head before balling it up and tossing it toward the hamper in the corner. He glances at his reflection in the mirror, running a hand over his pecs and down the planes of his rippling stomach. His fingers slip over his adonis belt, wiggling just slightly under the waistband of his black sweatpants.

He takes in a quick sigh, clenching around nothing. A spike of heat bursts and spreads in his stomach, he wondered if he should have been turned on before anything happened. He steps back from the dresser, hooking his fingers under the garment and works it down the swell of his thighs until it falls and piles up around his ankles.

He wiggles a socked foot out of the first leg hole and steps on it to free the other. This too sails through the air and lands in the hamper with a soft thump. He takes another glance at himself in the mirror.

He was a lovely shade of coffee with a few splashes of milk. He kissed his tan lines goodbye since your regularly scheduled maintenance days with him. In your days of boredom, you took it upon yourself to buy a nice waxing pot and clean his cunt of hair in places he had to (literally) bend over backwards to reach.

He thought you were going to do it somewhere like the bedroom or bathroom, but you figured that you may as well get good use of the rooftop. His pussy is easily nestled in between his tanned thighs, brown outer lips just barely hiding his sweet inner pink.

He hated that you refused to touch him until the next day, he could feel everything when you were done. Now that same time of the month was his favorite time for grooming.

Jungkook blinks, shaking himself from the vivid thought and pulls open the drawer. His underwear was neatly rolled up beside yours. He decides on a simple gray high cut thong, stretching it, stepping into it and slipping it up to his hips.

Normally he preferred to wear nothing, but he needed an extra barrier of protection for today. He pushes the drawer closed and pulls open the ones on the right and left of it. Simply, he grabs a sleeveless tee and pair of shorts. He dresses himself quickly and parks himself on the edge of the bed.

You return from the closet with a giddy smile, swinging something shiny around your fingers. Nipple clamps.

“Don’t look so happy to torture me,” he pouts.

“That’s your favorite part of it though, Junggoo~.” You made your way around the end of the bed and sat on his knees.

You reach up and cradle his cheeks, kissing him. The tension melts from his shoulders with the first and hang comfortably over his frame with the second.

“Now let’s see what’s under the hood,” your joke sails straight over his head and out of the window. He shakes his head, placing his hands on your thighs. You lift the bottom of his shirt and twist it under the collar, placing your hands over his chest.

Your fingertips trace over the swell of his taut mounds, goosebumps raise over his skin as you near his nipples. You hovered the tips of your thumbs over his nipples, admiring the rich rosy brown of his little areolas.

A moan rises in his throat, swallowed away noisily. Heat rises and exchanges between your bodies, you shift in an attempt to relieve some of the pressure on your dick. His fingers curl around your thighs pulling you even closer to him. Your dick fit snugly against his lower belly and it was starting to drive you crazy.

He leans forward, slipping his head over the juncture of your shoulder and neck. His slow breaths crawl up your skin in a way that tempts you to shiver. Jungkook was familiar with the shadow inside of you, he knew how to make it burn. His lips press over the swell of your shoulder, sending shocks zipping through your body. You should’ve known better than to wear that tank top today.

You graze your thumbs over the hardened tips of his nipples. He moans against your skin, you played with them so much that he felt like he could feel each ridge in your prints. He seals his lips around the base of your neck, gently suckling and grinding his tongue against your skin. You pinch his nipples in between the length of your index fingers and thumbs harshly, tugging.

He jerks slightly, his teeth sinking into your flesh. You hiss, arching your back before releasing his nipples and pushing against his chest. Jungkook pulls back with a whine, eyes wide.

“What’s wrong?”

You could hardly hide the fact that you were already breathless. “No, you aren’t going to weasel your way out of this one baby boy.”

The darker side of your mind was pleading for you to give in and make a mess of the bed sheets. But you knew that it’d make things filthier if you put him up to this.

You press a kiss to his pouting mouth, pulling back before he could deepen it. His brow knits together, he was already horny. He may as well make sure he didn’t get too far ahead of himself, it’d be harder to work out if he got wetter than he was now.

You slip the short chain from your knuckles, pinching open the first clamp. He seemed to be holding his breath as you pressed the chilly metal to his flesh before slowly releasing it. Jungkook throws his head back, gasping and biting down on his bottom lip. It was like a thick cloud rose and surrounded his brain, it was getting harder and harder to figure out what he was thinking.

You drag your tongue over your bottom lip with a dry swallow, you could already imagine the feeling of his pussy flexing around you. You lift the other end, the fire in your belly consumes you further when he twitches at the slightest shift of the first clip. You gently pinch the other clamp open and close it around his other nipple. He responds immediately with a drawn out breathy moan that makes your head spin.

You reach up slowly, unravelling his shirt from his collar and allow it to fall over his midsection. He looks down at you with these dark, cloudy eyes. “Can’t.. Can’t we..” He babbles as if the wind was knocked out of him.

“Come on, I’ll- I’ll go fill up your water bottle.” You tried to shake the slurring from your voice, planting your hand on the mattress and wiggling out of his grip.

The cold air of the hallway hits you like a freight train, bringing more cognizance to your mind. The heaviness between your legs was making you crazy, you hadn’t a clue how either of you would workout in this state.

You cross the way into your kitchen, it looked like the floor was blending into the walls. Grabbing your water bottles off of the drying rack, you fill them to the brim with ice and water.

Eventually Jungkook shuffles out of your bedroom with a dizzy, distant air in his eyes. He was red from his cheeks to his ears, and the sides of his neck. It was like he was wasted already, he seemed to be moving slowly to reduce the friction of the shirt over his nipples. The chain sat just right, as it didn’t really jingle as he walked.

He must’ve struggled to slip on the backpack, stopping beside you. You’d make it a little easier on him, choosing to carry your drinks instead of adding more weight to the bag on his back.

“Let’s go, we’ll be home the faster we go.”

He nods slowly, heading toward the door.

_

During your short walk around the corner to the gym, he spoke up suddenly. “I won’t have to do everything, will I?”

“Everything but squats, the bench, and deadlifts, I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

He huffs, looking down at you like a kicked puppy. You didn’t miss how his eyes gained a glassy tinge.

“I’ll do everything you want me to when we get home, my pretty boy.” You muttered low enough for him to hear, pushing open the door with your shoulder.

_

“How are you doing, baby?” You coo into his ear, wrapping your arms around his waist. Not a soul wandered the locker room aside the dust and water droplets where they weren’t supposed to be.

“I’ll give you a treat,” you whispered. Your work your hand under his shorts, pushing your fingers past his thong easily. He makes a soft, pretty noise when you cup his pussy.

He leans his weight back against you, jerking with a grunt when your thumb grazes over the sticky hood of his clit and passes over his blood swollen love button.

“Just want you to fuck me,” he whines, trying to squirm away from your rough thumb. It was too much for him, he could cum right now.

“Too much?” You ask gently, receiving a nod in response. You knew better than to let up now, pinching his hood and jerking the little pink sleeve. He made a noise like he was punched in the gut, hands clutching your forearms. His hands were shaking, but he was too desperate to push them away.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cu- unh!” He pants, thrashing his head against your shoulder as you pinch it. You take a deep breath in, retracting your hand and licking your fingertips.

He slumps back against you with a disappointed groan, struggling to catch his breath.

“Let’s go, I need to reward you.” Your voice was dark, moving to take the backpack out of the locker. You helped him ease it onto his shoulders and dragged him out of the locker room. You were given a few funny looks, but you hardly noticed them through the haze settling around your mind.

_

He all but wobbled his way to the bedroom by himself, leaving a trail of things behind him. Jungkook absolutely needed out of everything on his body at that moment. You followed him into the bedroom, watching from the doorway as he clumsily peeled off his sopping wet panties and nearly fell during the process.

“Take them off,” his voice breaks with a shiver crawling up his waist and shaking his shoulders. He makes a pitiful noise, squeezing his thighs together as he clumsily sits on the end of the bed. The thin chain lightly sways with the motion of his poor attempts to control his breath.

You wondered if you should try this more often, he never broke this quickly. You move across the room to sit on his knees as you had before. It felt like Jungkook’s skin was on fire, the slightest sensation made his hair stand up even straighter. His nails clumsily scratch at your skin, shoving his hands over the waistband of your shorts.

He couldn’t be bothered to fumble with anything, whining with a sob as the mesh of your clothing brushes over his thighs. “Off, off please!” He fusses in a strained voice.

You rose as quickly as you began to lower yourself, he was enveloping you in the same haze as before. Your lower belly spasms with a particularly aggressive twitch of your cock.

”Shit,” you growl under your breath. You yank away your shorts and nearly deflate with relief when your dick springs to full attention. Your sanity dissolved into ash bit by bit from feeling your glans scrubbing against the waistband when you moved around.

Jungkook clutches handfuls of the sheets under him, he couldn’t touch himself if he wanted. He’d scream because it was too much. His bottom lip trembled. It looked like he was practically flushed from head to toe, a heavy tear escaping the barrier of his thick lower lashes. It splatters over his collarbone, it’d evaporate if his body was any warmer.

You yank your shirt over your head and kick it aside with your other clothes, rushing toward him. You began to lower yourself to your knees, stabilizing yourself with hands on his trembling thighs.

He made another high pitched noise to fuss at you, he was so far gone that he just couldn’t control himself. Jungkook leans forward, wrapping his hands around your hips before lifting you onto his lap. You make a noise of exclamation, placing your hands on his shoulders in a weak attempt to register what just happened.

He pushes his chest toward you, sniffling. Another tear slips from the corner of his eye,  dancing over his cheekbone before slipping under his jaw.

“Baby,” you croon and stroke his hair. You gently curl a fingertip under the chain, lifting it slowly. This squeezes a few squeaks out of him, swelling into a squeal when you tug slightly.

You gently place your fingertips on the first clamp, squeezing it open and pulling it away from his stress. Jungkook’s forehead drops against your shoulder in relief, pressing weak kisses of gratitude over your breasts.

He grips your cock with both hands, slowly jerking your flesh up and down. You groan, resting one of your hands in the center of his pecs as you blindly feel around for the second clamp. Your fingertips cascade over his flushed bud, causing him to seize up. His grip tightens in a way that raises the gentle drip of your precum into a syrupy faucet.

You were likely already starting to drip over his fingers. His grip slowly relaxes, regaining his steady pattern. You press the tip of your thumb and index finger over the ends of the clamp, pinching it open and allowing the chain to drop between you.

You stroke your fingers over the back of his neck. “Let me see them,” you whisper with warmth and conviction. That tone of voice always sends his head into a spiral, he seemed to struggle to lift his head.

He shakily circles his thumb around your tip, spreading your precum all over his finger. You seize up, growling through clenched teeth. Jungkook quickly returns to stroking you firmly, he couldn’t stand the thought of you being unable to touch him.

You lean forward gingerly, dragging the tip of your nose through the cleft of his pecs. You tongue lolls out of your mouth, carefully resting on the edge of his areola before flicking upward.

He almost jerks away, sighing sharply. It was like you held the metal of a used lighter to his skin. It was enough to wipe what little thought remained in his head in a flash.

You tilt your head toward the other, slowly swirling the tip of your tongue toward the center of his nipple. He trembles below you, utilizing what strength remained to stay still.

“Want you to fuck me,” he croaks.

You glance up at him with a smile, nodding to oblige.

You plant a hand, carefully shifting yourself off of him and further onto the mattress. “Get on the middle of the bed, knees.

”He took his time to move, slowly twisting and crawling on. You reach to the left, yanking open the nightstand drawer with a flick of your wrist. You rip open the tube of lube, nearly breaking the loose plastic hinge of the cap. You squeeze a fat globule at the base of your cock, smearing the excess over the side of your lower belly before snapping it shut and shoving it back away.

You nearly forget to shut the drawer, pushing it closed with your ankle before crawling toward him. “Turn around.”

He plants his hands and crawls until he’s facing away from you, leaning back on his haunches.

Your dick prods the cleft of his ass as you seat yourself behind him, swiping your fingers through the thick, clear jelly. You do a messy job of lathering yourself up, leaning forward and slipping your dick under him.

You spread your index and middle fingers, smearing some of the lube over his pussy lips. He opened up like a pretty little flower, his cunt was already lush and puffy.

You drag the crook of your finger over his clit hood, coaxing a soft keen out of him. You press your fingers together, slipping them over his inner pink and press them into his hole. This time it was your turn to moan, his pussy swallowed your fingertips with ease.

He arches his back, molding against you with a whine. God, it felt so good but he wanted more. More than that. His inner velvet flutters around your fingers in a way that makes your toes curl already.

You work them in and out for a few strokes before you couldn’t stand it any longer. You wrap your hand around your cock, momentarily lowering yourself to press against his pussy. He slumps heavily against you with a coo when your cock begins to spread him open.

“Ooh,” you hiss, steadying yourself by moving your other hand to his stomach. Reaching the hilt, you shift your grip to clasp both of his forearms as leverage. The first thrust makes a filthy noise, excess lube squishing around your length.

To this, you lose yourself in him. You piston your hips forward, using him like the warm, wet hole he is. You fuck into him with reckless abandon. His voice is high, shaking with breathy and noisy squeals.

He does his best to refrain from squirming in your hold, thighs twitching with the urge to close. The room before him was a blur of shapeless splashes of color, it amazed him how you could get even deeper when he was on his back. Jungkook felt ridiculously full, his head dropping forward, babbling slurred expletives.

Your thighs burn, you knew he came by the way he started to flutter and squeeze around you. You could feel it barreling toward you, wrapping one of your arms over his hips to keep him steady.

You shift a hand, flicking your finger over his swollen nipple. His voice reaches a new pitch, thrashing his head around in a futile attempt to remain on this plane of existence.

“No! Gonna-” he tried to squeal, digging deep half moons into his thighs. You set your teeth tightly, your balls slap against his skin as you ground deeper. It felt like he was going to wring you dry.

You lean back for him to slump his weight against you fully and attack his other nipple with a harsh pinch. His shout catches in his throat, his head thumping against the thick of your shoulder.

Your control is carried away by the wind, the noise you make is ungodly when you cum. You couldn’t lose steam, his cum cakes up with yours as you plunge in. It felt like your sanity was melting out of your ears.

You roll the tips between your fingers, scrubbing them back and forth with your middle fingers. Something inside him broke, his jaw snapping shut as he began to shake uncontrollably.“Gnh, ah!” He grits out, his squirt splashing around your cock and splattering over the sheets.

Oh. Oh. You slow your thrusts with a breathless chuckle before allowing your softening cock to slip out of him with a wet plop. You’re met with a noisy sniffling, stroking your hands over his trembling stomach.

You shift your weight onto one knee and lay down behind him. “Shhh, shhh..” You continue to stroke your hand over his belly as the shocks become weaker and weaker.

The tension in his body takes a few minutes to melt away before he can fully sink into the mattress, timidly scooting back for you to fully spoon him.

“You okay?”

“Mhm.”

You hadn’t made a mess like that in a while, but you supposed he might have needed it as much as you. You’d soak in the bath later with him.

[sweetestlamb]

Walk Through A Storm

Author's note: Honestly, like I could help myself from doing this. it's short because I need to actually get my life together but enjoy. Oh also I don't wanna think anymore so someone give me title in the comments lol I'll pick the one that fits the best. (Thanks for actually giving suggestions, one really spoke to me!)

Summary: "I'm not ready to stop kissing you yet."

"I thought you were going to reject me." She whispers in between the small space between them, their lips are close enough to meet again in another soul burning kiss and he's tempted to close the gap again. They can talk later so for the second time in his life he wants to be selfish, she brings that out in him; makes him hungry for more than he thinks he deserves. She's been doing that since he first met her.

"I'm not ready to stop kissing you yet." Her eyes widen at his whispered words and without pause he leans closer softly pressing his lips against hers. She tastes sweet like the best candy he could never get as a young boy. Her little hands slide up his back dragging him closer and he goes easily, his walls are saw dust at this point and she's a windstorm. Wrapping his arms fully around her body he pulls her closer, cupping the back of her head as he swipes his tongue at the seam of her lips. She gasps in a way that makes his blood bubble and flow southward. The sea roars besides them providing the soundtrack to their first cognizant kisses. Hopefully the first of many.

The kiss drags and overlaps, her tongue persistent in his mouth and her hands busy stroking and rubbing at his back. It takes all of his willpower to sever their connection but he's starting to feel light-headed (and horny). This all still seems like a dream ever since he saw her running over to him, when she was supposed to be in Seoul. Leaving without telling him. Making him think the worst.

"Why do you look like you want to cry?" She cups his cheeks and he's reminded of that unforgettable night. She looks so concerned that he wants to disappear not used to being on the receiving end of such looks.

"Nothing. I'm fine." He tries to brush her off, viciously wiping at his eyes but she doesn't let him push her away, grabbing his hands tightly in her own. "Tell me what you're thinking. I told you everything in my head."

He almost chuckles at her expectant gaze. She sounds like him demanding payment.

"People usually leave but you're the first...to come back early." He smiles sadly thinking about all the people he'll never see again, and how he considered that she might go back to Seoul and realize that she was much too big for the pond that was Gongjin. He wouldn't have stopped her, she deserved the whole world.

"The first hm. I like that." He stares at her face, grinning at the satisfied grin and the enveloping dimples on both sides of her face.

"A daughter with your dimples would be dangerous, I think I'd understand how Chun-jae feels then." She pauses at his words mouth gaping and it hits him just what he's implied about their future. It's presumptuous and he should correct it but his tongue feels too heavy and her bright eyes suck the air from his lungs.

"Where's Mi-Seon? How did you get back so quickly?"

"Oh." She jumps cutely, suddenly hitting him on the shoulder and he winces ready to scold her for hitting him so close to his injury. But then she starts hitting herself on the head and instinctively he grabs her, stopping the self inflicted abuse.

"Stop that. I like that head." It's cheesy, something he would have cringed at if he heard another utter it but once he sees the smile she rewards him with none of that matters anymore, he'll say anything to make her beam like that.

"You're such a flirt." She fails at sounding bothered. "Oh and I left her in Seoul. It started raining and I realized you were it for me so I ran into the rain and left her on the sidewalk. Crazy right?" She starts snickering at her own words and he stares at her taken aback laughter forced out of his lungs at her infectious giggles.

She comes into his house like she belongs there, going to his fridge without permission and grabbing a bottle of water. He feels parched watching her drink it, never before has he wished to be a plastic bottle. So many firsts with her.

"What are you staring at?" She tilts her head like a bunny and he can't get the image of her with floppy ears out of his head.

"Cute."

"What?" She blushes furiously at his accidental slip and he clears his throat before grabbing his phone, desperately needing a distraction.

"Nothing. I'll call someone to pick up Mi-Seon."

"Who are you calling?" She asks walking over to him, sitting far too closely for his brain to function at maximum capacity. When a deep familiar masculine voice answers she squeals, bouncing in her seat and giving him thumbs up. He feels so proud he could burst.

"Don't say no. She's all alone and abandoned. What if something happens to her? Could you live with yourself?" He replies to the stuttering officers weak refusals and those are the right words to get the meek man moving, it's comical that he would be playing matchmaker for anyone else.

"You're a master manipulator." She accuses and he stares in surprise, "Does it upset you?" But she surprises him by leaning closer, spread deliciously across his compact couch. "No. It's sexy." Her face is glorious under the soft lighting in his living room and he swallows the drool collecting in his mouth, embarrassed when it starts a coughing fit. She thumps his back firmly before thrusting her water at him, "Drink." He listens obediently.

He gulps at the bottle, taking a deep breath before collapsing backwards into the couch.

"Am I making you nervous?" Making. As if it's only a present occurrence, as if she hasn't been making him swallow his words and expectations from the very beginning. He shifts looking at her through narrowed eyes.

She's far too innocently twirling her hair blinking up at him with wide eyes.

"You're doing this on purpose." She smiles serenely at the claim, leaning back onto the couch and by default his arm that's strewn across the top. She presses her body into the side of his body and he tightens his hold on her shoulder. It all feels too natural.

"I'm surprised it's working. You never seemed affected by me. You denied liking me so easily. Biological crisis, my ass."

He jumps at her cursing, she sounds too much like her father. It makes him smirk.

"I thought I had to. You were right, we are so different. I thought it was something fleeting for you, you told me you're someone who gets curious."

"Pfftt. You think I get curious about just anyone? I have high standards. I'm quite a catch you know?" Her signature bravado, but this time he can see through the veil better. Can spot the cracks and tears and it makes him want to protect her even more.

"I know. You're the best thing I've ever caught."

He'll never grow tired of being the reason that face turns so pink and flushed. (Immediately pushing aside an image of her beneath him.)

"Wait here. I have something for you." He wants to argue as she starts to leave his embrace but she's too quick for his grabby hands and he pouts at her unwanted departure. He moves to follow her but she's back before he's even finished putting on his shoes.

"Where did you go? We could have gone together."

"What? Did you miss me?" She teases, dimples flashing up at him.

"Don't be absurd." He denies but his cheeks burn yes.

"Whatever. I went to get this. Here." She thrusts a large bag at him, looking excited and embarrassed all at once. He takes it confused, prying it open and feeling more confusion wash over him.

"These are men's shirts." He says dumbly and she stares unimpressed at him, rolling her eyes before nodding.

"Yes. I got them for you in Seoul. Keep them even if you don't like them. They're a gift." She looks so small and... scared that he reacts without thinking, dragging his shirt over his head and throwing it to the side. The sight that welcomes him as his head pops out of the hole is not a new one, but it's still as effective as the first time. Hye Jin looks desperate, eyes locked on his now naked chest. His skin raises under her intense gaze.

"Miss Dent--Hye Jin ah?" His call doesn't do anything, well that's a lie it doesn't knock her back to reality like he'd expect instead it seems to be the siren call that lures her closer to him. Her hand outreached before landing on the tense muscles in his stomach, with one touch he already feels devastated.

"What are you doing to me?" He aches to feel and touch and kiss and fuc-

But it's too soon for all that. They haven't even defined this yet and despite all the lines they've crossed he wants to do this right.

Taking a step back he escapes her torturous touch and pulls a shirt from the bag, ready to cover himself back up from her too penetrating gaze.

"Wait." Her voice is so raspy and longing he has no choice and he watches mesmerized as she watches him hungrily, eyes darting all over his naked skin dissecting him. He swallows hard when he sees her little hands balled up in fists by her side. Disbelief swirling in his belly. "Okay. You can do it. That's enough....for now."

His cheeks flare at the seductively spoken words and to stop himself from devouring her like a starved man he slides on a smooth button down shirt. It fits him perfectly and gulps as he buttons it up. Nobody besides his grandfather ever bought him clothes.

"It's a perfect fit." Hye Jin echoes his thoughts smoothing a hand across the soft material. He stands ramrod straight at her ministration.

"Thank you. I'll wear it well." His throat is thick and he has to blink to chase away the tears pooling there, dangerously close to falling. She hums before stepping forward into his space again, that kiss effectively tearing down all the walls and lines they had both erected and drawn.

"You're already wearing it so well. But...it looks even better off. I can't wait to see it on my bedroom floor."

A scandalized squeak is all he's able to get out before she's diving at him and devouring his lips so roughly that they tumble onto the floor.

The pain in his shoulder is worth it as she kisses him senseless systematically driving out every doubt and insecurity. At least for tonight.

[tinyyoungblood]

romance, eh? | peter parker

summary: it’s the broken main characters typeshi where they don’t think they deserve love, but over the course of the movie, they help each other and fall in love. football fields and late night drives. it’s kinda cute

pairing: peter parker x reader

trope: best friends to lovers

warning: language, very fluffy

a/n: i’ve resurrected from the dead, waddup <3

* * *

You were sat at the porch of your house, tossing rocks down the driveway and watching them skip toward a puddle. The sound of splashing water was the only source of entertainment as you were seemingly the only person alive in this town. When you realized that you had finally run out of stones to throw, you considered hurling the gnome down the driveway but decided against it and instead, patted your pockets in an attempt to locate your phone. To your surprise, it started ringing the second you held it in your palm. Peter’s name flashed boldly across the screen, illuminating your face. You answered the call and stood up.

“Where the hell are you?”

Loud rustling was on the other side of the line, and you squinted down the road in search of any approaching cars.

Finally, his familiar voice rang through the phone’s speakers. “Y/N, fuck, I’m—ow.” You heard a car door shut, and a string of curse words lingered at the tip of your tongue.

“Oh God, you’re not telling me you’re still at home, are you? Please tell me, you just closed the door to get out of your car and not in.” Absolute silence followed, and you could practically see him sit still like a deer caught in headlights. A beat followed before he replied carefully.

“What if I tell you I just entered a very sketchy dance battle in the middle of the forest and now it takes me 10 to 15, maybe even 20 minutes, to kick ass and get out of here?”

You took a deep breath and dragged your feet back to the porch, shunning it with a glare. “Parker, I swear to God, if I hear you turn on the engine right now, I’m going to set your Star Wars collection on fire.”

You heard him mumble something on the other side of the line, but were only able to pick out a soft “not cool”. The clanking of keys occurred next and before you knew it, the engine was yanked to life, making you groan loudly. “I hate you.”

You heard him set the phone down with a chuckle, switching to speaker. “I’ll get over it. Just don’t touch my Star Wars.”

You slumped back on the porch and grimaced at the spider web hanging above your head. Scooting away from it, you let your back hit the wooden ground, phone still pressed against your ear. “Just hurry up,” You murmured, defeat and exhaustion instilling a softness in your voice. He cooed at you.

“Don’t worry, I know there’s never any parking space on Thursdays, but I’ll run all the way from the parking lot to your house. Actually, I’ll start running the second this car is parked—no, wait, I’ll start running while I’m still in the car—”

“Peter,” you cut him off, knowing he could go on forever but still somehow end up not coming at all. “Just drive safely, okay? I’ll see you in a bit.”

“Fine,” he replied, “but I’ll have you know that I have now stomped two holes into the car’s floor to get to you Flintstone style. That’s the dedication we’re working with here.” A subtle click followed, signaling that he had ended the call.

Light laughter bubbled over your lips, and you shook your head at your best friend’s words. He was a dumbass, but at least he could make you laugh. One of the many reasons, you adored him. The rest of your life could be spent listing off the other reasons, but even in the afterlife, you wouldn’t be halfway done. You didn’t bother to sit up, opting to just lay on your back until either he would arrive or a passer-by would mistake you for a corpse and call the police. Whatever came first.

The next few minutes were waste of time. Now and then, a glance would be cast at the display of your phone, but that was really how far it went with the physical activity. For all Peter knew, you could’ve been dead when he finally arrived, dashing toward you like a maniac chased by the Holy Spirit. “Y/N?” He skidded to a halt and breathed hard. “You alive?” You felt him poke your side with his finger. Too drowsy to react, you simply lifted your hand and gave him a thumbs up. A grin swept over his lips, and he bent down to scoop you up, coaxing a sign of life out of you as you squealed but almost immediately after melted into his chest.

He chuckled and carried you to his car. “Hello to you too, baby.”

You forced an eye open. “Took you long enough.”

Shrugging, he cocked his head to the side and lifted the corner of his mouth. “Oh, you know, some girl was babbling my ear off while I was on my way here. Really messed up my schedule.” He pretended to scowl at you, and you rolled your eyes at him.

“Seems like she didn’t do her job right.” You tucked at his earlobe, and he grimaced. “Such a bummer. You could’ve totally pulled off the Van Gogh look.”

He let you down into the passenger seat, shutting the door for you and setting his crossed arms on the rolled-down car window. “Oh yeah? You got a thing for dead artists now?” His face was in a twist, and you found yourself rolling your eyes again.

“I got a thing for guys who value punctuality,” you replied pointedly, and Peter let out a loud laugh. Leaning down, he came to an eye-level with you.

“Good thing, that’s not me then, am I right.” He winked and walked over to the driver’s side. In a second, he was seated next to you and reversing out of the parking lot, head turned to look behind him while his arm was holding onto the back of your seat. You took the second of concentration to take in his features. When he caught you staring, a smug smile raised to his lips, but you were quick to smack his chest with the back of your hand.

“Don’t flatter yourself. I was just checking if you had a black eye or at least a broken nose,” you said and ignored the way he cocked his brow.

“Thanks?” His eyes flickered between you and the road. “I gotta tell you, that’s a very sadistic love language you speak, but I’ll take it.”

You shot him a glare. “How else do you want to explain being 40 minutes late if it wasn’t being robbed by a biker gang and left in a ditch?”

“My answer was lack of time management by birth, but your excuse does sound far cooler.”

“Well, sadly, there’s no biker gang.” You heaved a sigh of exhaustion. “Otherwise, I would’ve gladly let them de-ball you.”

Peter cackled at your words, shaking his head before reaching over to pat your knee. “And they say romance is dead. I bet they’ve never met a total sweetheart like you.”

You broke out into a grin and swiftly whipped around to stare outside the window. Deciding to roll it up to stop the fidgeting of your hands, Peter made it his mission to choose the perfect song for your little drive. When the song “Midnight City” came up, he stopped and turned to you while wigging his brows obnoxiously. Pointing to the time on the upper corner of the car’s display, he awaited your reaction. It was five minutes past midnight.

You sighed. “Peter…”

“Oh, shut it, Y/N.”

You couldn’t help but let out a laugh, morphing the pout on his face into a matching smirk. “You know,” he spoke up, still staring ahead, “Sometimes I wonder why I’m even friends with you if you never appreciate my genius.” He gestured to his face, and you snorted.

Your eyes caught a brown bag that was sitting at your feet. “I’m here to keep your ego from exploding, I thought we’ve already gone over this—hey, what’s this?”

Peter glanced at you. “Booze.” He said it so casually you barely wondered how he got a hold of it. “You told me to get the good stuff, remember?”

Frowning, you leaned forward and tried to catch his gaze. His eyes flickered to yours. “What?”

“Since when is the good stuff not chocolate?”

He contemplated your words for a second before pulling a face. “Oh. Well, you wanted to bitch about our sucky love lives, so I assumed that involved liquor.” He shrugged. “To make it less excruciatingly painful, you know.” Eyeing the bottle in your hand, you pursed your lips, oblivious to Peter’s pleading look to just go with it. You hadn’t an idea what he had to go through just to swipe that bottle.

“I guess,” you finally replied and screwed off the cap to take a big gulp, feeling the liquid burn down your throat. Raising the bag, you flashed him a big smile. “Off to our voyage!”

He mirrored it, also raising his fist in the air. “Off to the deserted island named football field.”

- - - - -

“So what’s got your love life in a twist?” Peter asked casually while biting a piece off his sour belt. Within the past hour, the two of you had consumed a considerate amount of alcohol but had yet to experience feeling fatally wasted. A slight haze had infiltrated your senses, but that was really it. You both were still perfectly capable of having a proper conversation.

“You mean my panties?”

“Huh?” He narrowed his eyes in deep thought. “Oh, you want to talk about your underwear. Yeah, I guess that’s fine too.”

“No, you meant my panties are in a twist.” He turned to look at you.

“Why would your panties be in a twist? Do you want me to untwist them?” Slowly, the corner of his mouth curved into a not-so-subtle smirk, and you fought hard to keep a straight face.

“I really do hate you, Parker.”

He grinned back at you. “Means I must be doing something right, huh.”

Choosing to ignore his words, your gaze traveled the dark night sky above, littered with endless sparkling white dots. Peter mirrored your action, letting comfortable silence settle in, as the two of you continued to lay next to each other on top of the roof of his car.

“I don’t know,” you responded after a while. You felt him look the side of your face, but you forced yourself to fix your gaze on anything other than your best friend beside you, your fingers fiddled with one another in your lap. “I guess I just haven’t caught anybody’s eyes yet. No one really likes me, you know.”

“I like you.”

“You know what I mean, Peter.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” you sighed and took up the courage to meet his eyes. They weren’t holding any trails of pity like excepted. Instead, you gazed into nothing but a loving pool of honey that ignited clouds of warmth to swirl in your stomach. He looked at you in a way you couldn’t quite place, and you had to force yourself to look away, just barely missing the glint of disappointment as you broke the eye contact. You shrugged, an unsure smile gracing your lips. “Somebody will come along, I’m sure. Maybe at a hot dog stand. Hot dog stands are reliable, right?”

The tone in your voice, lacing your words like grapevine, was poisonous, making the boy beside you sit up and pull you right along. Your poor attempt of self-assurance didn’t sit right with Peter, but you didn’t feel like confronting it just yet, and he knew that. So, he tried to catch your gaze, and given that you had no other choice but to look at one of the most important people in your life, you dropped your shoulders and gave in. You simply stared at each other in silence, seemingly waiting for the other one to crack first. The serious situation quickly shifted into a comedic but intense stare battle and before you knew it, you were pulling faces at each other.

You were pretty certain, the alcohol in your system did not contribute a thing to it, but eventually, even the two of you would fall victim to it as you already felt it tuck at some loose strings. And Peter being Peter, he spoke up first.

“If neither of us cracks any time soon, we will both look like fools who escaped a mental institution and are roleplaying as Harley Quinn and the Joker.”

And just like that, laughter bubbled over your lips, prompting a face-splitting smile to dance on his lips while his eyes were staring at you like you had created all good in the world. It quickly turned into heartfelt laughter and once he joined in, it only made you laugh harder.

Your eyes drifted until they met those familiar honey ones again. The ones you have known since childhood, and the ones you had stared into one too many times tonight. And suddenly the entire world was encased into an incredulously large pool of amber that you never wanted to leave. It made sense. It just clicked, and suddenly the riddle was complete.

And the best part about it all was that you knew he felt the same way. He had never been an easy book to read, not even when you were children, but that night, in the middle of the football field, you could read him like he was your favorite poem. Each line and metaphor were as clear as the sky. Without having acknowledged it much, your face had grown closer in proximity with his. So, when he decided to speak, his voice was a hushed whisper. The alcohol easily fanning over your lips in waves.

“I really want to kiss you right now.” He inched closer, nose bumping against yours while his gaze danced between your lips and your eyes. “To find out how your lips feel on mine.”

His words caused newfound confidence to surge through your veins. The corner of your mouth quirked into a smirk, and you leaned forward. Lips brushing against his when you spoke. “I can put it on my to-do list if you want to know so badly.”

He chuckled, hand reaching up to cup your cheek while the other slid across your back. “Baby, you don’t understand how badly I want to know.”

He pressed his lips against yours, and immediately you sunk into the pool of amber. But you could taste more than just alcohol. There were honey and warmth. The way he made you feel—the way he had always made you feel all along, even in the most platonic ways. When cracking jokes or during shared detention. There had always been clouds of sweetness and joy surrounding you whenever he was near, but now that you had finally acquired the taste, you were addicted. You were making out with your best friend, and you loved everything about it. His arms tightened around you as you caressed his heated cheeks. They traveled to the back of his neck, threading through the curls of his hair, and pressing him closer to you.

When it was time to break away, you nibbled on his bottom lips, reluctantly parting, but still remaining close as his forehead rested against yours. He stared into your eyes with a whimsical smile while he tried to catch his breath. “Do you still hate me?”

You chuckled. “You know what, Parker?” Shaking your head, you tried to catch the train of thought you were losing just by gazing into his eyes. “Just a little bit.”

* * *

it’s 4 am here, and i’m pretty sure i’m sleeping as i’m typing this lol i had way too much fun with the dialogue. let me know what you think! as always, thank you so much for reading 💞 have a sweet one, guys x

masterlist

taglist: @honeypie-holland @himarisolace @duskholland @insidiousslut @siriuslyslyslytherin @quaksonhehe @geminiparkers @writertoo18 @fl0ating @luwloki @missnxthingg @hufflepuffhollander @dummiesshort @itstaskeen @nerdyandproudofitsstuff @totallyfangirling7177 @the-fictionwriters-hairdo @starlight-starks @fire1ordzuzu @parkerlovebot @parkerlovebot @ethereal-beauty-p​ @theweekendss @tom-hlover @peterspideysstuff @miraclesoflove @prettysbliss @fancyxparker @tom-hlover @blossomparkers 

[goddamnitdazai]

Little Promises {S&S} | Chuuya

Part of the Salt & Sugar Series | N.SFW | 5K words [9:30] Chuu <3: I’m going to be a little late baby. Order that bottle of wine for us? Rarely did a date start off without one of those texts from Chuuya. He made reservations in the ‘earlier’ (according to mafia time) hours of the night to avoid a situation like this. In what he called the ‘perfect sweet spot’ between him getting off normal work hours and before having to deal with anything that would come up later in the evening as most of the real mafia business did. Lately, more attacks have been occurring directly against the Port Mafia rather than an assault against Yokohama. Nothing that the Black Lizard couldn't handle but Chuuya wasn’t one to sit out of a good fight. He’d gone with Hirotsu to go handle..something, someone most likely, but assured you he’d be finished in time for dinner.

Five or ten minutes wasn’t a big deal. Annoying, yes. But you knew what you signed up for. Being with Chuuya made the irritation worthwhile. Just his smile was enough to erode any negative feelings weighing on you from the day. Sighing quietly you order a bottle of his favorite wine and watch the stars twinkle through the glass. The restaurant itself was gorgeous. Brand new on the eightieth floor with a deck spread out around the entire outside. Chuuya was able to get a table in a heartbeat. The best one in the restaurant. Secluded right next to an expansive window showcasing Yokohama’s glittering amber skyline. Your reflection stares back at you in the window, restless fingers tapping on the newly filled glass of wine. Waiting. [9:45] Chuu <3: On my way back to the office, Boss needs something. Wait for me at the bar? We can sit outside instead. For a man who couldn’t hold that much liquor the wine Chuuya liked was strong. Your head was already buzzing even with the bits of spicy edamame you’d popped in your mouth as a distraction. Your posture deflates further when you read the text flashing on your screen. Deep scarlet liquid sloshes in the glass before passing through your lips to etch a burning pathway down your throat. The dress Chuuya had bought you fit perfectly against your curves. Silk. Red--his color.  A sign you were his. The diamond choker he bought for your birthday suddenly feels too tight around your neck. You hated eating alone. [10:15] Chuu <3: Shit, I’m sorry baby Boss needs me to go take care of something. I’m really sorry, I’ll try to make it quick. Half the bottle churns with a sickly heat in the base of your belly. His chair was still empty. You whip your phone from it’s idled place on the table and tap out a response. [10:17] Chuuya? It’s been over an hour. Where are you? [10:45] You’re not coming are you? [10:50] I charged a bottle of wine to your card. I’m going home. Your shoes land somewhere in your apartment with a loud thump. Keys are next missing the wooden end table meant for them and your purse. Fuck, you were slightly more drunk than you realized. Overpowering vehemention towards the man supposed to be treating you to a nice dinner was the only reason you hadn’t stumbled out of the cab. If you had any type of superhuman strength your heels would have stomped four inch holes into the pavement. Your hand clumsily fumbles for the light switch as you make your way into your apartment muttering curses on Chuuya’s name the entire walk from your door to the kitchen. Compared to Chuuya’s two story penthouse your place was small but cozy. More decorated and homey-- Chuuya liked that about it, he said. Most of his walls were barren except a few pieces of expensive art he purchased on a whim. Chuuya preferred sleeping here over going home when he was out working late and you were already beneath the covers. Coming home to his lover was a treat sweeter than wine according to him. Your shoulders slump. It had been a few weeks since Chuuya had taken you on an actual date. Executives didn’t exactly have frequent pockets of unoccupied time. Leisure was more of a luxury to Chuuya than the most expensive wine in his collection. But, at least in the past few months, he’d been trying to spend more time with you the way a normal couple would. However his promises were falling shorter than you anticipated and at a much higher frequency than expected. There was nothing normal about your situation.. but god damn having a nice dinner with your boyfriend maybe once a month didn’t sound unreasonable. You drag your hand down your face and trudge to the fridge flinging the door open unceremoniously. There wasn’t much in here other than the few healthy snacks Chuuya left.  Your diet mainly consisted of take out or to-go meals from the convenient store down the street. Chuuya hated it and usually preferred places that offered healthy meals, but the man rarely got home before ten at night and was exhausted the moment he crossed the threshold. Hence the dinner date. Your frown deepens. At some point you’d grabbed a water bottle but you weren’t even in the mood to open it. The fridge shuts with a harsh echoing click as you spin on your heel and head towards your bedroom. Between steps your bra ends up on the standing lamp and the matching panties get lost in the shadows. It took an hour to pick out that lingerie. Chuuya tore everything in his haste unless it was something he wanted to see you in more than once--he would have loved that little set. “Fucking asshole.” You snap to the empty bedroom, falling face first into the mess of pillows and blankets. It smelled like him. Unintentionally you inhale deeply cherishing the familiar scent of his shampoo and cologne mingling together. His lingering warmth contrasted the cold emptiness of the bedroom for a few moments bringing a comforting elation, and then the realization that you were in fact without him knocked you right back down. Chuuya was a workaholic. You knew that from the beginning. Working parallel with him exposed his dedication within the first week. A tiny bit of you (that was beginning to grow larger) had begun to truly resent Chuuya’s workaholic tendencies. The Port Mafia was important to him, you got that, but..weren’t you important too? You flip on your side to stop your head from spinning in rapid circles. The wine wasn’t sitting well on an empty stomach but at this point you were too tired and upset to get up and eat. Nothing sounded good anyway. Chuuya’s shirt you often slept in felt like a weight in your hand. “Fucker.” You hiss, throwing it onto the small chair in the corner of your bedroom. Fine. If you weren’t important enough to have fucking dinner with then you wouldn’t bother texting him again. This was pathetic. You try to focus on the wobbling lights of the city through your bedroom window. Gold and neon flecks blur like water droplets against a deep navy sky. A heavy melancholic silence fills up the apartment. Between the wine sloshing in your stomach and the pounding of your head sleep would most likely evade you tonight. Welled up vexation had suddenly melted to pure sorrow, choking you quietly as you lay curled up in the blankets. Finally, little sobs part your lips bringing a few tears in tow. This was stupid, it was just dinner. Chuuya didn’t do it on purpose but why the hell did it feel like a knife twisting in your heart? “Fucker..” you repeat, squeezing your eyes shut forcefully. You’d deal with it tomorrow. ++++++++++++++++++++++++++ At some point you’d passed out holding Chuuya’s pillow tightly in your arms. Unfortunately the thing to awaken you wasn’t the gentle kiss of sunrise or your lover’s tight embrace. The wine you’d downed had resurrected with a vengeance that had you sprinting to the bathroom. From the darkness still drenching the apartment morning hadn’t come quite yet. Your stomach heaves all the contents in a burning violent wrench that barely makes it into the toilet bowl. There’d be bruises from how hard your knees hit the tile but at least it caught all the mess. “Sh-shit..ow.” You mutter, spitting the rest out before wiping your mouth with a piece of toilet paper. “______?” Chuuya’s voice resonates from the living room. “_____? I’m really sorry. Baby...I’ll make it up to you..” Chuuya speaks softly, almost deflated. His voice hits you like a ton of bricks. A miniscule burst of energy helps you stand with aid from the sink at your side. The sudden rush of blood sends your head sloshing in a circle again nearly pushing you back down to the floor. With a deep inhale you force yourself to stand straight again and splash water on your face before looking up at the mirror. Make-up, it had smeared all down your cheeks and beneath your eyes from crying and rubbing against the pillow. You groan at your appearance and grab the mouth wash. Chuuya’s ears perk. “Baby? You okay?” His footsteps are light and quick until they reach the bathroom. “Baby! Are you alright!?” He’s at your side in an instant wrapping his arms around your waist and spinning you to face him. “Don’t---” You press your hand to your forehead, “dizzy. Wine.” You mumble leaning back against the sink. Chuuya’s expression changes from worry to soft concern melded with guilt. His hands steady you with a gentle grip, coaxing you forward with unnecessary slowness (though it was appreciated by your stomach and head). All the crying had caused your eyes to swell enough that the details of the apartment, especially in the dark, were hard to see. If Chuuya hadn’t been guiding you back to your bedroom there’s a good chance you would have ended up face first on the floor. “____…” the guilt in his voice just made you feel worse. “I’m sorry.” He repeats, gentle ungloved fingers reaching for a tissue from the box on your night stand. Your vision was, at the least, bleary but the striking sunset tendrils framing his face stood out beautifully against the low light coming from the bathroom. “Hold on..” Chuuya murmurs, rising to his feet in quick steps. You sit in silence sniffling a bit and trying to keep the bile in your throat. Your eyes flutter shut to keep the light out. The blankets beneath you had bunched uncomfortably at the edge of the bed leaving you lopsided from sitting in the center of the mattress. Any attempt to shift could send whatever was left in your stomach flying, so you wait. Something creaks. Floorboards, then the mattress. Chuuya’s touches are two steps above gentle. Whatever it is, it’s cold. Something soft and cold in his hand over your eyes. It takes a few seconds for it to register. He’s cleaning the smudged make up off your face. Acts like this were the reason it was so hard to stay mad at the man. His gestures were sweet and honest. Showing you love in the only ways he really knew how to. Physical touch, gifts and sweet words after being gone for too long or bailing last minute. Your throat clenches as your fingers grip the loose sheets by your thighs. “Baby, I’m sorry.” Chuuya says it again. Your teeth cinch the inside of your lip. “You promised.” Chuuya’s shoulders sag but his hands keep working the smudged mascara off your face. His other hand nimbly massages the back of your neck finding the pressure point to relieve your headache. “I know.” What else could he say? “I don’t have a different excuse. Boss needed me. It was important. I wouldn’t have done it otherwise. We can have dinner tomorrow or another night. I swear.” Chuuya tries to coax your eyes open with a soft rub of his thumb on your cheekbone. He knew all your spots and that’s what made it hurt the most. “But you promised.” You repeat, almost childlike in the inflection of your voice, but your eyes open. Immediately you’re mesmerized by the expression change on his features. Chuuya, when overcome with too much, tended to drop his head in defeat allowing his bangs to hide him from the shame he felt. Your fingers on his chin keep him from succeeding. “It’s…” you swallow the dry lump in your throat, “I need to be as important too. I’m not asking you to drop whatever Boss has you do when I want attention and I know you’re going to have to leave sometimes when shit comes up unexpectedly... but fuck...you need to give me something.  Anything.” You set your hand timidly on his. “Unless the fucking world is collapsing...I need a promise I know you’re going to keep, Chuuya.” His eyes widen a bit, soft blue glimmering and reflecting bits of your distorted face in their tides. Chuuya stays silent for a moment but moves closer on the bed shifting you carefully until you’re on his lap, legs draped over either side of his thighs. His arms come around your waist (where they belong) to pull your torso flush with his. The hum of his ability tickles your skin as he leans himself back until his head hits the pillow. “Give me a little time to come up with something?” He finally breaks the silence. Hope diminishes and the swelling in your chest grows into a thick knot. “Okay.” You reply against his neck. There wasn’t a chance in hell Chuuya didn’t catch the desolation in your tone, but he says nothing. His fingers begin to detangle your messy hair in feather-soft strokes. Chuuya tended to melt into you without trying. Curl up around you keeping you comfortable enough to fall asleep in any environment. This position draws your face to the crook of his neck magnetically. A place molded to fit your head perfectly. Often, it was the only place that properly hid you from your thoughts and exhaustion when the world became too much at once. You inhale; his skin pebbles. He always smelled like sea salt and vanilla. He swears he puts cologne on but after working so much his natural scent clings to his skin and it’s much more intoxicating. His left hand slithers up and down your back drawing nonsensical patterns in your skin. Down your shoulder to the valley both blades create, following your spine lazily, methodically.  His dexterous fingers spread open to reach the skin that encases your rib cage touching light enough it’s almost a tease. Chuuya’s gestures come from the depths of his emotions that so often tumble beneath the surface. Trained in the art of persuasion and deception he’s better at hiding what he’s thinking than he lets on. It’s all a matter of if he cares enough to do so or not. You tangle your legs together with his, thankful you’d forgone wearing anything to bed. Summer heat tended to creep into your bedroom despite the air conditioning, and the man beside you could melt chocolate with his touch. With Chuuya's skin constantly overheating (Arahabaki in the shadows) it was surprising his layers didn’t bother him. On cold winter mornings it was magnificent against your chilled face. In the summer he’d laze about in only his underwear with the air conditioning blowing, keeping you just cold enough to need the warmth from his skin. (He claims it’s not on purpose but you like to think it is).  Heat had begun to spread the moment he pressed you up against him and held you like you’d disappear if he loosened his grip. Right now the little crook beneath his ear that curved down his neck forming a broad muscular shoulder happened to be the perfect temperature to soothe your headache. Chuuya cuddles you closer when he notices the tension dissipating. His head turns slightly to rest against your forehead, the soft ghost of his breath trails over the shell of your ear each time he exhales.  Whatever alcohol remained in your system had slowly begun to recede with Chuuya’s presence. Falling asleep rather than passing out cold seemed to aid in the depletion of your headache, and truthfully, being with him cured every part of you. Scientifically correct or not--it always worked even when you were pissed at him. Chuuya’s chest softly begins to vibrate as your eyes flutter shut. A gentle tempo that remains tranquil but familiar.. Chuuya’s humming finally settles the ball of nerves tied up in your stomach. The last remaining irritation of the night quietly begins to melt away at the edges leaving your heart frayed and tender. Pure exhaustion was overpowering your will to stay awake and wait for Chuuya’s answer. Against your own command your eyelids droop and soak your environment in black. ++++++++++++++ Fuck that wine. From the moment you peeled your eyes open it felt like someone nestled their way into your skull to continuously pound it with a ball peen hammer. Your legs twist in the sheets as you try to get comfortable again and turn away from the sunlight sneaking through the window. Your arm smacks against the mattress, it felt strikingly cold. “Chuuya?”. The only response you receive is a small rustling from outside the bedroom door. A soft hum. Music? Something. You flop onto your back and force your eyes open. Thankfully the dizziness subsided permanently, unfortunately it’s counterpart (a killer migraine) still throbbed to the point that you were halfway convinced your eyeballs were physically pounding. “Chuu?” You call again, twisting on the bed until your bare feet hit the hardwood.  Chuuya’s shirt fits comfortably over your head. Instinctively you inhale sharply holding the collar close to your nose before it settles and the smell of eggs draws you out of the bedroom. Normally you’d walk out completely naked but you felt beyond shitty. Lazily you tug up a pair of sweatpants and meander out into the kitchen in search of your boyfriend. Chuuya turns over a shoulder and gives you a soft smile. His back muscles were getting bigger, or perhaps the way he was holding the pan made them bulge. Regardless he looked damn good cooking you breakfast in a tight shirt bathed in morning light. “Good morning baby. Hungry?” Your stomach growls loud enough to echo down the street. Chuuya laughs and sets two plates down at your small table. Omurice, toast, and a few strips of bacon he’d picked up from some fancy market in Tokyo the last time he went. “Good. You need the protein after throwing everything up last night.” Chuuya pads over to you arms immediately wrapping around your waist snuggling you close against his bare chest. “I’m sorry baby.” He says for at least the fifth time. Two soft kisses to your forehead, one on your nose and a final on your lips. You slump against him letting your arms remain limp at your sides. “I figured out what I can do for you though. What you deserve.” “Oh?” Your arms find themselves around his waist, fingers spreading out to feel the rigid muscles in his lower back flex beneath your touch. Chuuya nods forehead now resting against yours. Sunlight funnels through the window scattering amber over the floor. Cresting Chuuya’s right side and across to the middle of his throat bathing him in light. The man truly emulated warmth and fuck he was more gorgeous than the sunrise itself. “Breakfast together. Every morning. Some days I’ll cook for you. Some days we’ll go out before work, and some days…” Chuuya begins to trail soft kisses down the side of your throat. Catching your breath suddenly becomes much harder with his mouth tasting your skin, “we’ll have breakfast in bed. I’ll eat you...and then we can eat together.” He chuckles darkly, waiting for the words to unfold in your head. “How can I turn that offer down?” Your fingers glide up the back of his neck carding through his hair. Chuuya sighs into your touch but continues the lazy, deliberately gentle line of kisses over the curve of your shoulder then backwards until he reaches your collarbone. “My place---” you gasp sharply, Chuuya loved to bite that spot on your neck, “or yours?”. Chuuya hums in thought hands now trailing down your curves around to the swell of your ass. “Whoever gets off work last goes to the other’s place. So, probably here a lot.” Chuuya squeezes, low growls emitting from his throat when you jolt into him. “Means you gotta actually buy food for me to cook.” You rise up on your toes moving closer and away from his grip on your ass. You couldn’t give in easy just yet, where was the fun in that? “Mmmm..but what if I like starting off the day with your cock?” You muse, teasingly dragging the sharp edges of your nails down his shoulder blades. Even through his shirt Chuuya’s shoulders were overly sensitive. Another set of animalistic growls erupts from him. He squeezes harder and nips at the center of your throat. “Guess I’ll have to give you what you want then, won’t I?” He smirks crookedly. You yelp when his hands dip between your thighs splitting them open to lift you up and onto the counter. “But first,” he murmurs, thumbs digging circles against your inner thighs, “I get my breakfast.” Chuuya leans into you, hips slotted between your trembling thighs so he can kiss you until you’re dizzy. Your hands wind up back in his hair holding him close. You inhale him greedily, savoring the taste of him in your mouth. Your sweatpants join Chuuya’s shirt on the floor in a puddle of fabric. The heat from his body sweeps you up into the clouds. You weren’t sure if it was the hangover, the speed in which Chuuya had you spread open on the kitchen counter or a combination of them both but your head was already fogged. Chuuya’s breath along your thigh keeps you lucid enough to feel every movement he makes. The tickle of his hair on your leg, the gentle prodding of his thumb spreading open your wet lip and the oh so lewd sweep of his tongue up your pussy. “Fuck!” You gasp, hair tugging roughly at the bundle of red hair between your fingers. Chuuya’s chuckle vibrates up your core. His tongue expertly flattens against your pussy, long strokes beginning at your entrance ensuring to taste every inch of your folds all the way up to your clit. The edge of his tongue flicks over the swelling bud once or twice before descending through your lips again. Chuuya moans into you, muttering praises of your taste between licks and prods of his tongue deep inside you. “Ch-Chuu!” The knot in your stomach was near ready to snap. “Do it baby. Right on my fucking tongue.” Chuuya commands, looking up at you from between your legs momentarily before returning to his work. Chuuya’s two fingers hold your pussy open for his tongue to explore. Dipping in and out, traveling up to tease and suck on your clit until stars burst behind your eyes and you’re moaning incoherently. Chuuya doesn’t waste a drop. “So good..” his praises are saturated with lust, “fuck you taste so good.” Arousal smears across his cheeks and lips as he cleans the mess between your legs. Gentle licks and motions, just enough to begin overstimulation to carry over into what would come next. You curl over him trying not to fall off the counter. Chuuya gets to his feet, hands remaining on your shoulders to give you leverage as he discards his sweatpants revealing his fat hard cock red and dripping pre-cum. You lick your lips and reach for him, pumping it a few times in an off-beat rhythm. “Already fucked out baby?” He taunts playfully, lips still glistening with your cum. You pout at him and jerk him forward by the hair. Chuuya laughs, using the motion to line his cock up with your weeping entrance. “Yeah? You want it that bad?” Your hips jerk forward when the head rubs up against your clit. “Chuuya!” You huff, switching tactics. His eyes widen to saucers moan loud and deep enough it rattles in your chest. Your fingers tweak and tug at his pebbled nipples egging him on to submit. Or piss him off. Regardless, the outcome would be the same. “Do you want it that bad? Just one touch..” you mimic his teasing tone. Chuuya’s eyes narrow, chest still puffed out towards your hands. “I always want you.” He replies, punctuating the last word with a jerk of his hips. Your head lolls back in surprise, the burn of his cock stretching you out to the hilt makes your toes curl. “Ohfuck!” You choke on air; Chuuya is quick to grip your hips and bite down on your throat. His pace is relentless. Needy. Sticky, hot and slick. You keep one arm wrapped around his neck the other slanted back on the counter for balance. Chuuya buries his face in the crook of your neck as he fucks your hard and deep. Your knees end up by his ribs allowing you to cross your ankles behind him. The angle change makes Chuuya moan deep against your skin. Somehow, his speed picks up sending you bouncing up and down on his cock. Every stroke inside you hits that sweet bundle of nerves that keeps you moaning his praises. “Fuck--” he grits his teeth and slides one hand down to hold you up by your ass lifting you off the counter. He grunts again, moving in just a few steps into the center of the kitchen. Chuuya drops to his knees with the aid of his ability and places you on your back, hips following the natural path of gravity to push his cock deeper inside you. “Fuck..there..” he murmurs, shifting his hands to your thighs pressing them back until your knees reach your shoulders. “Just like that baby..fuck you’re so god damn beautiful..” His eyes glisten, gemstone blue clouded in the haze of arousal and pleasure. This position was so lewd and fuck it turned you on knowing Chuuya was watching you like this. Vulnerable and split open by his throbbing cock. Chuuya tilts his chin down mesmerized by the view of his cock pistoning in and out of your wet pussy. Cum and slick squirting against him with every harsh thrust forward. Your back arcs off the floor; the head of his cock relentlessly slams into your g spot until you’re cumming again. “G-goodgirl!” Chuuya sputters out, pounding into you three more times before he’s spilling inside of you gasping your name in a sultry, silky voice only you get to hear. Chuuya rolls his hips a few more times in rhythmless sputters before collapsing (gently) on top of you. Sweat matting his bangs left and right, skin a rosy pink and body taut. You wrap a shaky arm around his back, eyes fluttering closed. “Mm..you doin’ okay?” He asks, pushing himself up with one elbow to look at you. “Yeah…fuck..” you couldn’t even think straight let alone articulate just how good you were feeling now. Chuuya smiles--the rest of the world doesn’t compare to the brightness of it, you think. “You’re forgiven.” You finally say, long exhale following. Chuuya beams and kisses your nose. “I am sorry baby. And I promise we’re going to eat breakfast together every morning.” Chuuya rolls to his side bringing you with him. Your leg ends up thrown over his hip and his arm pulls you flush to his chest. “I love you ______. I love you so fuckin’ much.” Chuuya drops kisses along your cheek as he speaks. “I love you too, Chuu.”

[kaylaxwrites]

Street Kid

Pairing: (platonic!) Frank Castle & Reader Words: 1.9k Request: “hi :) can you do a platonic frank castle imagine where he is in a fight and looses alot of blood and end up passing out in an alley but a street kid (16/17 yo female) stitches him up and saves him and later he runs into him and they develop a father-daughter relationship? thank you so much!” (anon) A/N: I don’t know if this is what you wanted, and my mind blanked half way through when trying to come up with some father/daughter scenarios, so that aspect of it probably isn’t the best. But!! even though requests are technically closed, I’ll also some father/daughter requests for if you have any specific situations/scenarios you wanted to see. Just because I feel really bad that I couldn’t write what I wanted to see so it’s probably not what you wanted to see lol

Warnings: reader has an ambiguous background of being kicked out by her parents and she’s homeless and also somewhat-graphic description of stitching somebody up. but it’s a punisher fic, so you know

You ducked through the alley, taking the shortcut you always took. You stumbled to a halt when you noticed a body laying on the ground. Please don’t be dead, please don’t be dead, you thought as you inched closer to the man, letting out a breath when you noticed the rise and fall of his chest. You hesitantly leaned over him, toeing him with the edge of your shoe. “Buddy…uh, you okay there?” you asked, nudging him a few more times. It wasn’t until the fifth nudge until he finally gasped awake, wildly swinging at you the instant his eyes opened.

“Woah, woah, woah,” you called, stepping back several feet. “Chill, dude, you’re fine.”

It was a few moments for him to calm his breathing and gather his surroundings. “Who’re you?” he grumbled, words almost slurred.

“Uh…Y/N. I was just walking by and I saw…” You noticed his wide away of injuries then. He was so bruised and bloodied, you weren’t sure where one wound ended and another began. Blood obscured his face so you couldn’t make out any details as to who he might have been. But the skull on the chest was a dead giveaway. The Punisher. “I think you need a hospital.”

“No—no hospitals.” He stumbled to his feet but crashed into a dumpster, unable to find his balance.

“Uh, yes. Yes hospitals.”

“M’fine.”

“Uh-huh. Is there…is there anyone after you? You look like you got the shit beat of you. They won’t be coming back, will they?”

“No. No.”

You sighed. “Glad that’s settled. So if no hospitals, you got anyone I can call? You got friends?”

“Look like I make friends?”

“No.” You looked around and sighed. “Well, I wouldn’t feel like a good Samaritan if I left you all by yourself. You wanna follow me or…?” He huffed something that almost sounded like a laugh, but hesitantly shuffled behind you after you started walking.

You kept pace with him as you navigated to your home. No, house? No…place you slept. The abandoned building that acted as the roof over your head wasn’t much, but it was all you had. After your parents had kicked you out a year and a half ago—and your subsequent emancipation—it was the best spot you could find. The shelters were always overcrowded and no landlord in their right mind would lease to a sixteen-year-old, so you settled. At the very least, you were able to spend money earned from your two fast food jobs on things other than rent. Like food. And a nice sleeping bag. And, useful in instances like this, a well-stocked first aid kit.

You held open the gap in the chain link fence for the man to wince his way through. In any other instance, you’d feel hesitant to let a stranger—a grown man, no less—into what acted as your home, but this was the Punisher you were talking about. Even though he…killed…people, you read enough in the news to know that his moral code—however skewed it was—wouldn’t let him hurt women or kids. As you fell squarely into that category, you figured you were safe.

You kicked open the door to your building and led the Punisher up the stairs to the room where you camped out. You directed him to sit on the dusty table at the center of the room. You pulled out the first aid kit you had, as well as a couple clean towels you had nicked from work. You set those on the table next to the Punisher before pulling the 48-pack of water bottles out from under the table. You wet a towel with one of the bottles and handed it to him. He started cleaning his face until he could finally see clearly through the blood.

“You live here?” he asked after taking in the room fully. You noticed his eyes lingered on the sleeping bed and mat framed by battery-operated string lights in the corner of the room. Then he finally took in your appearance. “Jesus, you’re just a kid.” And your age, apparently.

“I’m eighteen!” you tried to defend yourself. Frank arched an eyebrow, eyes sliding to your stuffed animal still propped up on your pillow. You sighed, looking down. “Sixteen. And a half,” you added after a moment. As if it would help your case.

“Where are your parents?”

You crossed your arms defensively. “It’s a long story.”

“Fair enough.” He looked around the room once more. “You got a mirror I can use?” You nodded and slid a half-shattered mirror from behind the door. He nodded his thanks and stepped over to the mirror, sliding his shirt and vest off with a grimace.

You puttered around while he did whatever he needed to fix himself up and clean himself off. You tried to avoid looking over at him, the blood making your stomach queasy. You were able to ignore him until he caught your attention half an hour later.

“Kid,” he called. “Kid. Hey, kid!”

It was the last one that startled you to attention. You jumped and turned to face him. He was cleaned and stitched up. For the most part. He definitely looked a lot better than when you saw him for the first time. But you still thought he should go to the hospital. Punisher or not.

“I need your help,” he continued.

“How am I supposed to help?” you asked.

He turned to show you a gash on the back side of his ribcage. “Needs stitched. I can’t reach it.”

“And you want me to…” You gulped.

“You got anyone else here to help out?”

“Well…no.”

He gestured you over and then pressed a needle and tweezers in your hands. You eyed the curved suturing needle warily. “I’ve already sterilized everything. I just need you to close it.” He braced himself against the wall with his opposite arm.

“I—I don’t know what to do.”

He pulled your hands so they were against the wound. “You gotta pinch it closed then about half a centimeter from the edge slide the needle in and straight across.”

You followed his directions and gagged at the feeling of the needle sliding through skin. “Oh my god! That is disgusting!”

“Yeah, yeah, keep going.”

You gagged again as you pulled the needle through the opposite edge of skin. “Now what?” you asked, breathing heavily.

“Double knot it and cut it off. And then go every quarter inch or so until the end.”

You did as he said until the entire would was sealed off. You raced to grab a bottle of water to pour over your hands. You never wished more for running water so you could thoroughly wash the blood off your hands—and the memory of feeling the sutures pull against skin. “Please tell me that’s the only one,” you said when your hands were the cleanest they were going to get.

“Yeah, that’s the only one.”

“You do that often?”

He chuckled. “More than I should.” He shrugged his bloody shirt back on, seemingly preparing to leave. “You stay here by yourself?”

“For the most part,” you answered. “I mean, sometimes there’s a few kids who hole up downstairs, but for the most part, it’s just me.”

Frank looked conflicted, as if he wanted to leave but didn’t feel right leaving you here alone. After a few moments, he seemed to make up his mind. “I should probably lie low for a little while. You mind if I stay out in the hallway?”

“Oh, yeah, sure. I don’t…I don’t have, like, any extra pillows or anything to give you, though.”

“Trust me, kid, I’ve slept in worse places than that dingey hallway.”

“Oh, okay. Well, I probably should…be getting to bed,” you said. You weren’t anywhere near tired, but you don’t want him to feel like he needed to hang around you any longer. You passed him two water bottles as he stepped outside of the room. “Well, uh, goodnight, Frank.”

He tensed as you said his name. “How do you know my name?”

You almost rolled your eyes. “Uh, it’s not exactly like you’re incognito. The Punisher logo on your vest kind of gave it away.”

“Right. Night, kid.”

“Goodnight.”

You smiled and shut the door, moving to curl into your little bedspace. If you were being completely honest, you felt the safest tonight sleeping here than you’d ever had. Logically, you knew the Punisher was supposed to be some big, scary man, but deep down, you knew no harm would come to you with Frank Castle sitting just outside your door.

The sunlight slowly woke you the next morning. You squinted into the light that poured in from the broken window above your sleeping bag. You turned over and tried to fall back asleep, but it was no use. You rose from the makeshift bed, wincing as your joints popped, and made your way to the hallway. You looked down each end, but Frank was gone. It didn’t surprise you that he left at some point in the night, but you couldn’t say you weren’t a little disappointed he wasn’t there. You shuffled back into your room, freezing when you saw what was on the table.

Breakfast.

A hot, steaming breakfast.

You weren’t sure how you didn’t notice it earlier, what with the smell now wafting towards your nose. Instantly, your stomach rumbled. You rushed over to the takeout container, eager to find what was inside. A sticky note on top simply read “Thanks, kid,” but you set it aside. Your mouth watered the instant you opened the container.

Pancakes.

This was probably the single most happiest moment of your life. You hadn’t had a hot meal—let alone a hot breakfast—in who knows how long. The platter spread before you seemed like a feast. You dug in happily, savoring every bite until it was gone.

 That was the last you expected to hear from the Punisher. You stitched him up, he bought you breakfast the next day as thanks, that should be it, right?

Turns out Frank Castle was a man of many surprises.

Nearly every single day from that point forward, you would find a takeout container centered on your table. Sometimes, he left you breakfast like that first day—sometimes pancakes, sometimes omelets, but all from the diner a few blocks down the road. Other days, he’d bring you dinner, leaving Chinese takeout containers piled high on the table or a Tupperware container full of homemade spaghetti. You weren’t sure who made the spaghetti—you couldn’t exactly picture Frank in the kitchen—but it was incredible, nonetheless.

Your favorite days were when Frank lingered after dropping the food off, eventually going as far as to sit and eat with you when he could. Those days left you feeling the happiest. Dinners with Frank happened more and more until he offered you the small second bedroom in his rundown apartment. “I’m never gonna use it,” he said, “and I’m not gonna bust you out of jail if you get caught for trespassing.” You eagerly grabbed the opportunity with both hands—you wouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth, especially if that horse would get you out of this rat- and cockroach-infested hellhole. Living in an actual apartment would be a dream.

Thinking back on everything, you weren’t sure when the feeling began, but one day, you realized…you felt like a family. By all means, the relationship you had with Frank Castle was far more familial and paternal than any you’d ever had with your biological family. With each passing day, you couldn’t be happier that you’d stumbled across a half-dead Punisher in the alley that night.

[mycatshuman]

Wrapped Up In A Romcom

Virgil Has A Fall

I'm sorry that I haven't really been posting. I think my mental health hasn't been too good. If you could let me know what you think, it'd be a great motivator to get me to work on this fic and my others more. You don't have to but I'd appreciate it.

A big thanks to @lehuka123 for reading this you're great.

Next | More

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Virgil had been interested in history since he was a young child. One of the things that stood out to him often was his fascination with ancient Egypt and their mummies. Of course, King Tut was one of his favorites. He was absolutely spellbound by Tutankhamun. The mysterious boy king and his mostly untouched tomb full of wonderful treasures drew in Virgil's attention like a moth to a flame. It was unlike most things at that age. 

Just as King Tut kept his attention, so did the mummies. Virgil still remembers a book his grandmother had gifted him that came with a poster on the mummification process. He found it very interesting how they went about preserving their dead. 

Perhaps his fascination with mummies began with the Mummy movies. Or maybe he just got the interest in it from his mom and grandmother. Most likely, it was a bit of both. And as he grew older, he found himself devouring history with joy. Books, movies, tv shows, documentaries, nearly anything he could get his hands on. There was something so enticing about the cultures and the people who had lived before him. It was certainly no surprise to the people who knew Virgil when he went to college for a degree in archeology after high school. 

Soon enough, Virgil was off on a trip to Africa for his first archeological dig in the sands of Egypt. He was very nervous and very excited. Although, he didn't have high expectations on his chances of finding anything "breaking news" worthy.

After all, it would be his first dig and it could often take weeks to find anything. By the time he was to return home, he might not find but a third of an ancient jug. Whatever Virgil expected from his trip, it was most certainly not what he got. 

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

It had been a long, hot day in the sun as Virgil shifted through sand and worked to discover ancient artifacts buried in the sands near the foundation of an ancient Egyptian home. He had shifted through sand for hours sweating his ass off only to find a few pieces of what he theorized to be an ancient plate. 

Still, he was very proud of himself for his find. An ancient plate was still a piece of history after all. 

Virgil stayed up long after the other archeologists and workers went to bed to just- take everything in. It was almost hard for him to believe that he was here. In Egypt. He could only imagine how it must have looked back in the time of the mighty pharaohs. It made him feel jittery inside. Like he had swallowed a whole bathtub full of pop rocks and they were all popping simultaneously in his stomach. He had too much energy for him to lay down and go to bed. But he had to get to bed soon. He would be heading into the city tomorrow to buy some more supplies for the camp. All those people would drain all the energy he had. And it was not going to be good for his social anxiety. 

So he decided to take a small walk to settle his nerves and expellmost of his energy, but not before making sure he had his emergency pack. His emergency pack was filled with three flashlights, ten packs of batteries, twenty lighters, five bottles of water, two ropes, a phone, a radio, 10 flares, a charger cord, a first aid kit, and four rechargeable battery packs for his phone. He also made sure to grab his phone. That was the one thing he didn't keep in his emergency pack. He just made sure to take it because it would be easier on his anxiety. Once Virgil checked to make sure he had everything in his pack, he set off on his late night walk. 

He walked through the sands for about an hour. The night's bright full moon hanging in the sky above him helpfully lighting his way. It was peaceful. Nice and calming. When Virgil finally felt the gentle fingers of sleep pulling at him, he turned to go back...only to be pulled down into the sand as gravity pulled it into an empty space underneath the sands. Virgil screamed as he fell and landed hard on stone. He stopped screaming with a grunt. The sand still trickled down around him but much less now than it had been at first. Virgil rubbed his back as he glanced around at the ominous darkness around him. A small circle of light came from the hole about ten feet above him from where he had fallen through, lighting a small area around him. He shakily fumbled around for his backpack and pulled out a flashlight and flicked it on.

Virgil swept the flashlight around to gain his bearings and find a way out of the situation he seemed to find himself in. "Oh great, I don't see another way up." He sighed. He aimed the light around and inspected the space around him. "Seems to be a passageway way," he hummed to himself, barely keeping himself from panicking. It would be no good for him if he panicked now. A glance behind showed a dead end. He let out a huff. "I guess I'll have to go this way." He stood up and winced as pain shot up his left leg. A look down showed that his ankle was swelling. "Must have sprained it." Virgil tentatively began limping forward, keeping his flashlight swinging from side to side to keep an eye out for anything dangerous. 

Soon, he came to a doorway and gazed in only for his jaw to drop in amazement. "Oh my god! This is an antechamber!" All around him stood various treasures such as large statues, couches, and beds all decorated with gold and precious stones. Virgil's eyes were wide in amazement as he stared around at all of the stunning artifacts before him. Virgil moved deeper into the room and found two more doorways as he tried to catch glimpses of the paintings on the walls. One of the doors lead straight ahead and the other to the right. After taking a moment to decide, he went to the right and entered the other room. 

What he saw had him freezing in his tracks. There, before him stood an ornate golden sarcophagus. He had found the burial chamber. The walls were painted in beautiful colors that depicted the life of the person placed here. Virgil could already tell this was someone of importance if all the treasure was any indication. The outstanding craftsmanship of the sarcophagus only confirmed that suspicion. Virgil stumbled forward, awestruck by the image before him. Tentatively, he ran a gentle hand along the sarcophagus. He directed his flashlight at the cartouche on the lid and translated the hieroglyphs. "King Roman…" he whispered softly. His fingers delicately traced over the hieroglyphs.  "Hello, King Roman," he said gently. "I can't wait for your people to hear about you. That'll be one more piece of the puzzle in their heritage." Virgil moved further down the sarcophagus and inspected the rest of the lid. He frowned as he came across what looked to be a spell or curse of sorts. He leaned forward and translated out loud. "Shall my resting place be disturbed on a full moon by a young male, may my last wish be granted." Virgil shivered and took a step back from the sarcophagus.

"Okay, I think it's time for me to leave." He turned to leave and find another exit only to freeze when a loud noise sounded from behind him. Then he heard sliding. Quickly, he spun around to find the lid of the sarcophagus moving. Virgil stared wide eyed as the lid was shoved off and the mummy within sat up and turned to face him. He watched with disbelief as the mummy's hand rose up and began to unwrap the bandages from their head as if they were freshly placed. Slowly, a handsome face revealed itself from beneath the cloth. Gorgeous brown eyes, like rich soil that you knew would sprout beautiful new life, stared back at him. The archaeologist's jaw dropped as the other before him smirked. 

"Well, you certainly don't disappoint."

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Taglist: @misery-killed-me @superwholocked-for-life @mirror2thespirit @aroundofapplesauce @lyditist @little-euro-girl @unicornofdarknessstuff @odette-ssbu @ray-does-stuff

Maybe you could let me know if this is worth it to continue posting?

[redhawtriot]

Highhh School (MHA x Reader)

Tip Jar ☕- Not expected but always appreciated💞 

Uh? HELL 👏YEAH 👏

Okay this isn’t an imagine necessarily but it folllows a school day?? Can I get a pass??

I just needed a shit post after all the angst I’ve been writing recently lol🤣

Sero:

He is most definitely the one who smoked you out.

He was so excited to show you his world. *cue Aladdin music*

He is practically a graduated expert on weed classifications and strains, but as he is going on about Indica and Sativa, all you could think about is how come you never thought to ask him sooner?! ‘Cause he has BIG pothead energy.

He would be the friend to stay mostly sober when you smoke so that he could make sure that you were okay. He would straighten you up if you started leaning to the side, or give you water when you kept licking the roof of your cotton mouth. 

You two smoke before class one day, but you don’t feel anything when you first smoke it, “Uh, Sero, no offense but are you, like,  sure about this stuff? I feel about as high as a tree. Like-- kinda of higher than usual but not like high in the grand scheme of things. Like if you look at plane or kites or clouds and stuff, they make trees look so small. Like itty-bitty ants and…” you stop yourself because you forgot where the tangent even began, “ Ohhh….”

“See?” Sero would laugh his ass off as he gave you a knowing smile, “Good shit right?”

“I am high as hell, bruh.”

Iida:

No matter how much you pray before hand, you just knew that your class rep. would be the first one to greet you in a school day, but that doesn’t stop you from trying to avoid him like the plague.

“L/N! If you and Sero would find your seat quickly, so we can prepare for the day’s activities!”

He would certainly recognize the symptoms of being high, but wouldn't correlate it to his classmates because not in his good ‘plus ultra’ household, no sir. 

Smoking is for delinquents and nonconformists and his peers are neither!

He just assumes that you are sick.

“Uh.. L/N are you feeling well? You seem ill.”

“I-I’m okay.” You feel your mouth move in slow motion. You pray to god that you weren’t actually moving at a snails pace.

“I could very easily arrange for a nurse’s pass for you! We want you to be in tip top shape for today’s ventures! After, all we have to meet the high expectations set for us as U.A. students!”

Oh, Iida— so young, so foolish. You were high enough already. 

Izuku:

His seat is next to yours.

He is completely oblivious to the signs of being high, other than what he was taught in school (so basically, not shit).

He would notice your attributes and become very concerned for you,

“Have you been crying? Your eyes are really red.”

“That’s your third bottle of water are you sick?!”

“Holy woah! You’re about to fall over L/N!!”

COT DAMMIT, this boy is calling you out like it’s his job!!! But it’s just because he cares ❤️

You would just want him to stop being so damn precious and to also stop drawing attention to your altered state.

But baby boy is too pure to realize that he is thoroughly fucking you over.

Todoroki:

You try to stay close to him for most of the day so that your behavior doesn’t seem out of place.

He always seemed faded with his calm demeanor and slow responses, so you would blend in much better with him by your side, rather than with someone hyperactive like Iida.

Smile and wave, boys. Smile and wave.

He wouldn't even question your off behavior. Even if he notices, it he probably just thinks you’re extremely tired.

Are you Mr. Aizawa’s secret love child or something

You could also have him make ice cubes for you to chew on. That would be really nice. 

Bakugou:

This boy is too damn perceptive.

He knew as👏 soon 👏 as you walked in the class that morning, that you were higher than high.

He would never ingest the devil’s lettuce, but he couldn’t care less if you ruined your lungs.

but okay maybe he cares a little.

“You damned idiot, How the hell are you going to get through the quiz in English today, if you cant even read in a straight line?!”

He would try to help you with school work but cuss you out for being stupid in the same breath. 

His voice seems like 100x louder than usual.

He wouldn’t do extra shit for you-- like getting you water or anything. It’s a tough love lesson to teach you to make better choices.

Kaminari:

Would be offended as fuck that you didn't smoke with him

“What the fuck? You and Sero blew a beezy without me?!”

who the fuck says blow a beezy? 

He would be more upset at Sero.

“BUT WE ALWAYS VAPE ON TUESDAYS” energy.

The nerve of some people! After that,  he gets ‘Trust No Bitch’ tattooed on his wrist. 

Aizawa:

Never in life would you be more terrified, than when you were being called to meet with Aizawa after class.

Oh God, you were going to get expelled from class, and have to move out of your house-- maybe even the country, and sell pirated movies from the back of your car in a Walmart parking lot in Florida, and--

“Do you want to borrow one of my eye drop capsules?”

“W-what?”

“Your eyes. They are red,” he wouldn’t even blink.

You would be terrified to take it. Would accepting his gift be incriminating in some way? Like a confession of sorts?

You would reluctantly take it anyways and thank him, but as you would walk away--

“Oh, and Y/N?”

“Y-yes, sir?”

“Come into my classroom under the influence again and you will find yourself immidiately expelled.”

HOLE. LEE. FUUUCK!!!

You have to catch your soul from escaping from your body.

Jirou:

She would be the one to come up to you after the school day is over and ask you where you got your weed from.

She would reluctantly and abashedly admit that she would like to smoke with you next time.

Achievement Unlocked: Delinquentify your Peers!! + 800 xp

You’ve converted more of your friends to the “dank side.”

Your Sith name is Darth Cannabis

[mccall-me-maurice]

In Hopes You’re on the Other Side, Talking to me too

Pairing: Jack Merridew/Ralph

Word Count: 2016

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol

Jack was trying his best to be Ralph’s everything. But in the end, it wasn’t enough. So every night the redhead finds himself talking to the moon to try and win Ralph back through words that he’ll never really say to the boy. All in hopes that perhaps a certain someone is doing the exact same.

Jack hates himself more than he hates anyone else in the galaxy. Okay, maybe that’s a lie. Maybe there are a couple people worse than him but it really can’t be all that many. It’s probably one of the shortest lists to ever grace this planet, but for now he’s focusing on the fact that he just lost the best thing that has ever happened to him.

Ralph and Jack never really got along until 2 years ago. They had a horrible past of bloody fights and words that chilled the other to the bone. They were so used to painting old school tiles with each other’s blood that they didn’t really get the time to know each other much further than hatred. Until 2 years ago, on the last day of their senior year. Ralph had finally held his hand out to Jack, letting the redhead take it instead of trying to maim him. That was all that it took for the boy who previously was his rival to become fascinated with Ralph in a way other than what he initially thought. Of course, it was supposed to be a horribly inconvenient time for both of them and if he had to guess, Jack would’ve said Ralph planned it so he wouldn’t have to face the freckled boy again. However, fate had different plans for them and on their first day of college, the two had been shocked to figure out that they were located in the same hall for the next four years.

Flash forward 1 and ½ years and Jack and Ralph were helplessly in love with each other. Nobody had suspected the pairing of an easygoing business major and finance major to pair up with each other. Jack himself didn’t really notice when the shift from friends to boyfriends occurred but before he could blink an eye, he was abandoning homework assignments to be with Ralph and staying up hours past when he usually drifted off to sleep to hear the tired voice of his boyfriend giggle about people he had seen in class. 20 years old and Jack really believed he had found his soulmate. He really believed that they would be together for as long as they lived. As long as the sun burned in the sky, his hand would be in Ralph’s. Even once they passed, they would be dancing together as ghosts.

He couldn’t have been more wrong.

It was March 3rd, the weather had shifted to overcast and Jack was slammed with studying for exams. Ralph’s exams had passed a week prior and the boy had flopped on his boyfriend’s bed, eyes scanning through a phone screen. Every so often he would hammer Jack with a series of questions and the redhead would be so tired he wouldn’t really give coherent responses. Late nights studying pages that were swimming with words and an excessive amount of monster energy drinks really turned someone’s brain to absolute mush. Not to mention Ralph had been sickeningly sweet to him, as if he could persuade Jack off of his swivel chair and onto the bed. As much as he wanted to be over there, running his fingers through Ralph’s hair and whispering the boy to sleep, all he could do was let the red ink of his pen slide across paper knowing that he was one sentence closer to the warm embrace of the blond.

“Jack…”

“What’s up?” Ralph sounded wary, like the news he was about to break would simply crush Jack. Little did he know, it would.

“Jack we need to take a break.” Jack choked on his spit. “Not forever. I don’t want to be away from you forever… Unless it has to be that way. Just for a couple weeks, a couple months. However long it takes for you to realise that there’s so much more to life than what lies in those textbook pages. I mean… You have been straight up ignoring me lately and I talked to Simon about it… He agreed that what's best for us is to just take a break. I suppose I’ll see you around.”

Which leads Jack to the present day, lying on the bed Ralph once laid on, scrolling through the text messages that Ralph once sent with tears in the corners of his eyes. He wants nothing more than to have the boy back, the heat of the soccer player's body warming Jack as he presses his cheek against blond hair. The energy of the night has been doing this to him recently, the darkness shrouding him as he lets himself sun quietly into the pillow. He can’t imagine that it’s not his fault. He gave Ralph his everything but even then the boy deserves so much more. He deserves the best and Jack clearly isn’t that for him. He will never be.

Jack shuts his phone off, placing it on the nightstand that lies to his left. The only thing that lights up the room is the beam of moonlight through his awfully cheap curtains. The flimsy white fabric barely blocks out anything, but even the inanimate object seems to be trying harder than Jack. The clock on his nightstand reads 23:57, signalling to the boy that even though exams are long over, he will still be up for at least another 3 hours. Not studying like he used to. No, he stopped studying the day that he took his final test, body filled with too much sorrow to even review the content properly. Recently the redhead has picked up the hobby of sitting cross legged in front of his window on the second floor of building B and he talks. He talks to the moon, to the stars, but most importantly he talks to Ralph. Whether the blond listens or not, he really isn’t sure. It’s not like his ex-boyfriend would ever be able to hear his cracked voice stumble over words as he spills his heart out to the endless night. Normally Jack wouldn’t even let himself be weak enough as to think about a head of blond hair for one more minute of one more day. And he does play a very clever façade in front of Roger and Maurice. He acts like Ralph doesn’t exist, like the hole in his heart doesn’t ache every time tan skin and ocean blue eyes filled with joy cross his path. On the days he isn’t sitting in his room, all alone, he’s out with his friends letting sweaty bodies press up against him as music blares. Drinks spill from red cups and onto the floor and all Jack can think about is how none of the people that choose to plaster themselves to him are Ralph. None of the people who cover his mouth with theirs, only to be quickly shoved off and sworn at, are the boy who he wishes would drunkenly kiss him. As much as he prays that Roger will show up empty handed with a party invite, at least once a week the raven haired boy is smirking at him with a bottle of booze clutched tightly in his fist. In order to seem like he’s the same sick person he was before he dated Ralph, he gives his friend an equally mischievous smile and takes the bottle.

Perhaps all of these emotions that Jack is feeling are Ralph’s fault. Or at least a byproduct of the fair boy. Before he let the boy ruin his life with ease, he was so cold hearted and had no fucks left to give. But for once, he had something to fight for that wasn’t himself. For once in his 20 years of life, Jack had someone who loved him just as much as he loved them. Which is why Ralph had always mattered more than a stupid party or nagging from his mates. He would’ve dropped the world to hold Ralph. Yes, that has to be it. All the crying had been because the blond’s soft heart had destroyed Jack. It had left him in a million pieces and as much as he didn’t want himself to be weak, as much as he hated himself for crying, it was happening.

Jack lets his body move over to the window, legs almost giving out underneath him as he falls into the place he’s become to know so very well over the past months. Roger didn’t invite him out today, but he doesn’t exactly blame the boy. There’s at least one party Roger attends every night, but bringing the heartbroken finance major who shoves off anyone who tries to make a move probably isn’t the best look for him. So instead Jack is sitting in the oversized pullover sweater with the college’s name plastered across the front that he got at orientation. He doesn’t need a mirror to know that his hair is all mussed and he probably looks like the human embodiment of death.

“Hey Ralph. I know you’re not talking to me… And you probably can’t even hear me. But I miss you. A lot. It’s really not in my character to miss people so that’s probably why this feels so weird.” Jack can’t help the sad laughter that bubbles up in his chest and escapes his lips. It just happens as naturally as breathing. “You know, I never thought that it would be you that I fell in love with. But here we are. I would’ve torn apart galaxies with my bare hands and rebuilt ones that would shield you from any pain. I don’t know how you’re feeling but I do know how I am. I miss the big smiles that you would give people when they said something hilarious, I miss the genuine laughs that you only did when we were alone. I miss the way your eyes mimic the ocean waves and dance like the sea. I miss the soft press of your hand against mine, and how they fit together like pieces of a puzzle. I miss you.” The same words that have been rolling off of his tongue for weeks come easy now, eyes not watering with tears quite yet. This is always the easy part. Simple things that anyone would miss when they lose their lover. However, Jack isn’t even close to finished and he knows his freckles will be stained with tears sometime soon.

“I miss the way you used to jump into my arms after you won a game despite being hideously dirty. I miss how you used to drag me out to look at every sunset because you wanted to find a beautiful part of every day…” His voice cracks at the end, memories swarming around like bees to honey. Every simple thing the fair boy did, probably without thought, now haunted Jack. The sweet gestures lived behind his eyes now, only as memories. A part of him wants to stop missing Ralph and just get on with his life. Live like a normal human being instead of one who can barely function without someone else there. He knows that eventually it will happen. It always does. Ralph has probably already moved on, found someone new to waste the days away with.

“Hey Ralph…” Jack starts tracing a pattern onto the knee of his sweatpants with his finger, eyes locked on the stars. Everything about the moment slows, the dancing lights in his peripheral, from a party in another building, the twinkling of the stars, the rush of wind against his face. Jack lets his heavy eyelids flutter shut, praying that one day, at some point, he’ll finally have an answer to the question that lays heavy on his tongue. All the sleepless nights and words that only he can hear lead to the same place. Like a winding road that always spits you out right where you began. All he can do is hope Ralph hears him, hope Ralph is right there with him whispering words to the moon that sits high in the sky.

“One day, will you love me again?”

[well-shit-im-a-morosexual-now]

"Chasing Stars" fic?

TW: BODY HORROR (sorry anon but it's like really fluffy if you just ignore the demons looking demonic part)

Different first meeting AU! The Fall happens later while MC is already alive AU!

LONG POST!

MC is studying to be a professional (wildlife) photographer (I've explained why this is my hc before) and as part of a project they are staying at a friend's cottage in the middle of the countryside for a week or two during their break.

One night they see a shooting star, its exact path is followed just a bit later by another (they seem extremely close to earth), then there's two more, almost next to each other, going in a different direction. Two more going in two seperate directions and they're sure there weren't any reports of a meteor shower... The last one is so close that they actually yelp and try to duck back inside when it passes, burning a fiery trail. They feel the impact on the ground when it hits the earth, somewhere in the woods.

And then they're running towards it, their curiosity has always been their biggest weakness. They're running towards a big crater at the centre of a clearing, only a small part in the back of their brain notices the burnt feathers on the ground and the smell of charred flesh. It's only when they get to the edge of the crater do they realise whatever is in there is definitely not a rock.

Rather it's some creature. And their heart is pounding and they're pretty sure they're hallucinating and the smell of burnt flesh is now pretty hard to ignore.

It's vaguely human shaped but much larger. Its feet are sharp bird like talons, its legs are bent in such a way that it would not be possible for it to stand up straight without hunching and its hands are spindly and tipped with long white claws. It's got a pair of large, mangled, burnt wings with only a few white feathers clinging desperately to them. Its skin is burnt to the point of being a pitch black and they can see more burnt feathers along its shoulders, there also seem to be smoldering vacant holes along its sides and back. Its hair seems to be the same grey-white downy fluff of a baby bird and its body is covered in splashes of some sort of thick glittery gold substance.

It's facing away from them making a loud keening sound and trying to curl itself into a tighter ball. They take a step back, maybe to run screaming, maybe to check themself into a hospital, maybe to gather their wits before they lowered themself into the crater.

Whatever it is the creature stiffens at whatever noise imperceptible to the human ear that their step made. It slowly turns towards them. The flesh on the lower part of its face is burnt off showing a full mouth of long gleaming fang like teeth. But that's not what catches their attention. Instead it's the eyes, surrounded by what looks like undamaged human skin. Even with the slitted pupils they look painfully human and terrified.

The creature growls when it sees them, low in its chest as its back tenses as if it was seconds away from darting (not that they think it can). 

And instead of running for their goddamned life like any rational human would MC is slowly lowering themself to their knees at the edge of the crater. Talking to it in a soft gentle voice, like they would a stray cat or rabbit that had been hurt/spooked.

"It's okay...look I'm not going to hurt you,,,,I'm going to - fuck what am i doing- I'm going to help you okay? I'm going to - going to go get my truck and some water and rags and we'll get you cleaned up okay,,,,,just please wait here I'll be right back"

Whatever it -he?- is it's definitely intelligent. It's still slightly snarling but they're almost sure it understood them. So they get up and slowly back away and then they're turning and sprinting. Loading the back of their pick up with blankets and pillows to make a comfy nest and grabbing their first aid kit and opting out of taking actual water they instead take wet wipes and food, a proper lamp and a bottle of water.

Then while driving (as we've established MC is v stupid pls don't ever do this) they frantically Google up how to fix broken wings and treat burn wounds also can birds grow up to be 8 feet? How big is an ostrich? What are the odds of an ostrich falling out of the sky?

When they get back to the clearing, the thing is still there and curls up into a tighter ball when it sees them and it watches them with suspicious eyes but it doesn't growl.

Grabbing some of their supplies they sit back on the edge of the crater and ask whether they can come closer. It growls. They sit back down and talk to it - him? - softly. They tell their name and ask for his. They tell him what they are doing here and asks what he is doing here. They tell him they don't have any living family and ask if there's someone out there looking for him. He keens at this and they immediately apologise. They tell him about the photos they have taken and roll the water bottle towards him. They are not sure what they expect but when he (despite struggling with his long claws) opens it with a practiced movement they aren't surprised.

They ask him if they can come closer, he growls and they apologise and sit back down. They talk about more things, stories and movies. They trace the stars and tell him any stories they know about them. They ask him if he's an ostrich. He growls. They laugh.

While their eyes are on the sky he slowly drags himself up from the crater towards them, they don't hear him despite how big he is but they do notice him out of the corner of their eyes. He sits by them and they keep talking, ignoring the heat radiating off him. 

Softly he coos before placing his fuzzy head on their lap and for a minute they're frozen in place before he growls and shifts more until they start running their hand through his hair. They feel two bumps on the top of his head and wonder if he had hit his head on the way down.

Eventually with the sun just starting to peak out they manage to get him standing up, sliding their shoulder under one of his arms and hobbling over to the pick up. He's a lot lighter than he looks. They get him settled in the back and cover him with blankets and drive back to their cottage thankful that the small town centre is a bit away from them. They talk loud enough that he'd hear them the whole time

There's a bit of a struggle getting him through the door and when they (stupidly) go to fold his wings which he hasn't been moving much he rounds on them, teeth bared and arm up to strike. They both end up flinching and then he's ducking his head and not meeting their eyes and they talk him through it as they fold his wings, and wince at the pained whining sounds

They move all the furniture in the living room to the sides and put down two of the blankets and get him sitting in the middle.

They aren't sure what to do about the burnt skin, it looks beyond repair and somehow like any rawness from when they first saw him had healed into a hard thick layer, he also didn't seem to mind when they touched him. So again walking him through their steps out loud, they dip a rag in a bowl of cool water and work it along his body. The gold substance has dried a bit and flakes off when they wet it, it reminds them a bit of dried blood but there are no visible wounds/scars/damage underneath it.Whatever it came from, whoever bled gold, it wasn't him.

The holes along his body look worryingly like what they'd imagine empty eye sockets would look.

They card their fingers through his feathers, gently plucking out anything that's loose (it's most of them). After that they rub an aloe vera ointment on the places where the burns seem the worse. While they do all this he watches them as much as possible, but immediately turns around if they catch his eye.

The wings. The wings are a problem. They are frantically scrolling through their phone reading articles while a YouTube video about splinting a wing plays on their laptop but they have no idea where to start or how to splint it or with what for that matter and whether he'd accidentally rip them to shreds if they tried to and actually they're pretty sure he's watching the video on their laptop and huh. So they talk to him, they tell him the problem and they ask him if it would just heal like his burns did if they set the bone (maybe it won't heal properly but maybe at least it won't cause him pain - they tell him this too) and he's watching them with bright, considering eyes and they're spiraling a bit and rambling and then he's nodding his head and rolling his eyes and turning his back to them. 

They set the bones and wrap them up as tightly as they can, he whimpers and whines and squirms but he digs his claws into the pillows instead of into them

Once they are done they bring the rest of the blankets and pillows to the floor (with his wings he'd be too big for the bed), giving him water and food (all they have is cup noodles but he doesn't seem to mind). After instructing him to sleep on his front they go flop on their bed and immediately lose consciousness.

Hours later (in the evening) they wake up and walk into their living room and SCREAM BECAUSE HOLY SHIT WHAT THE FUCK THAT WASN’T A DREAM WTF WTF WTF WHY IS HE SCREAMING TOO

After their inevitable breakdown which isn't made any better because it happens simultaneously with his inevitable breakdown. They decide (the next day morning and fuck their sleep schedule is fucked) to deal with things one day at a time. 

The next week is all about cute bonding and shenanigans.

Healing is an accelerated process that only takes a few days but it's not a complete job.

The burnt skin heals into a pitch black shiny sort of leathery skin, with the skin healed they can see white markings along his front and back.

The last of the feathers fall out and new ones start growing back in. Unlike the previous ones these are a shiny black and remind them of crow feathers, they come up all through his legs, at the base of his wings, and a few along his shoulders/arms. To stop him from scratching at them they use a warm damp cloth to ease the irritation (when they'd initially just given him the cloth it had resulted with a lot of grumbling and huffing on his part until they'd taken the cloth with a roll of their eyes and swatted at his head - they'd immediately frozen because wtf was that he could probably realistically eat them but he'd only responded with a playful shove).

The bumps on his head turn out to be horns, that he's constantly trying to get them to scratch at.

The sockets and the missing skin on the lower half of his face don't heal & they should probably be more disturbed by it but for some reason they don't see it as anything too strange, it's just another part of their odd impromptu roommate.

The wings take the longest to heal and their bare skeletal form now looks more like bat wings than bird wings.

By the third day the tips of his horns are poking through his head and they distantly wondered while scratching around them if he was one of those mix & match animals from Australia like the platypus. Part gazelle, part bat, part crow and part human.

Once he heals he has boundless restless energy and is always skittering around the cottage, knocking things over like some large cat. (Part tiger?)

They have to convince him to let them file his nails so that the floor doesn't get scraped up

He's always talking. Even if they don't understand him and his words sound more like bird noises it's still him talking. If they don't listen or look distracted he'll caw at them loud and angrily.

He's very clingy and very warm. By the end of the week they find themself spending more time in the nest in their living room than in their own bed.

They don't even notice that stuff has been going missing until they one day go to kick some of the blankets outta the way and end up stubbing their toe on something hard. Underneath the blanket is a little treasure trove of shiny things from coins to the caps of pens.

He comes along with them whenever they go out to the woods with their cameras.

He seems determined to survive on cup noodles alone and honestly personality wise they're pretty sure he'd pass for one of the guys at their college.

They're pretty sure they walked into him crying while watching Cinderella, cuddled up under the blankets.

Wherever he's from they had technology because they once spent a whole hour staring at him and feeling like they were living through a fever dream while he hunched over their laptop and tapped away at it. He got caught to many many scams and they ended up getting a virus but it was worth it for that single image.

They're pretty sure he has some kind of system with the crows because suddenly there's a whole flock of them visiting the cottage and sitting around it and leaving more shiny things for him to add to his collection. They feed them just to be on the safe side.

He has nightmares. Things that leave him shrieking and growling and sobbing. They press as much of him as they can into their chest and vow to protect this monstrous creature from anything, even God himself

They sometimes catch him staring at the stars. They wonder if he misses whatever home he came from.

He avoids mirrors or any reflective surfaces. Goes so far as to flinch away from them. They preen his feathers and call him 'Pretty Bird', he grumbles and huffs and mumbles something that they think probably means 'Not a bird!' they cackle and tell him he's the prettiest ostrich they've ever seen, he shoves them and they shove back and soon they're playfully wrestling on the ground. He makes sure to be careful of his claws/talons

The first time they realise his marks glow in the dark they nearly have a stroke

He ignores them for a whole hour when they laugh after finding out he is afraid of horror movies. 

Their hands are running through his hair and scratching at the base of his horns while he is curled up around them, his tail (something which like his horns hadn't been there when they first met him and honestly they feel like they're missing some sort of symbolism here) wrapped around the calf of their leg. At first they think he is growling but have to stifle a laugh, lest he ignore them again, once they realise he is purring.

They call him Star purely because that's what they thought he was and he acts like he hates it but they've seen that small stretch of human skin on his face flush at it.

No one in town saw a meteor shower.

They're not sure what they are gonna do with him, not after their two weeks end but they know for a fact they're not leaving him

Both MC & Mammon are dumb af and don't realise how dangerous the other technically could be to them

One and a half weeks later there's a knock on their door and they're pushing him towards the back of the house before they go to open it.

There's probably the most beautiful man they've ever seen at the door and they're blushing because wtf.

He's dressed incredibly well and they're pretty sure they've never seen him at the town, they take a peak over his shoulder and there's no vehicle behind him. Looking closer at him, he looks tired with bags under his eyes.

"I'm looking for my brother" he says and they're blinking because they have no idea what to say to that. The guy almost looks expectant like they're supposed to come out and say that yeah actually they know exactly where his brother is. And they're opening their mouth to actually apologise to him when there's a loud noise behind them and the man's eyes drift past them and widen.

They're panicking 'cause they know exactly what they'll see when they turn around and when they do turn he's charging towards them and the stranger and they're yelping and jumping out of the way while screaming at him not to attack the guy wtf wtf wtf.

His body collides with the guy's and they both stumble out of the door frame at the impact and they are scrambling after the two of them expecting blood and guts. But instead their shooting star is purring loudly, tail wagging, clinging on to the stranger with a death grip and his face buried in the man's neck.

The guy is somehow managing to carry the whole weight of him and is clutching at the feathers on his back with just as much of a death grip.

Maybe one of them's adopted?

The man catches their eyes and his eyes glint red and his mouth twists in the beginning of a snarl but then their roommate is shifting in his grip and murmuring something and the guy's face is softening for a split second before it hardens again and he whacks the other over the head.

The two speak in soft murmurs but they catch parts of the man's words "Father", " Diavolo", "Lilith", "worried", "human body", "Wrath", " family", "Mammon"

He's nodding his head at the man then before disentangling himself from his (older?) brother and turning to them. He takes a few steps towards them and the man says in a warning tone, "Mammon".

He ignores his brother and walks up to them

"Guess your name's Mammon, huh?"

His eyes scrunch up in a way they know means he's smiling. 

"It's cute. Suits you."

And he's blushing and huffing and they're looking at his eyes that are still so human and suddenly they're hugging him tightly and he's hugging them back and they're squeezing their eyes shut and burying their face in the soft feathers at his shoulder.

"I'll miss you, try to stay out of trouble"

He huffs again and squeezes them gently.

They open their eyes wondering what the hell they're doing standing outside in the cold morning in just their pyjamas.

They walk back inside the cottage which for some reason seems much larger and emptier than it was earlier. There's a large bundle of blankets and pillows in the middle of the living room and they have no idea when they did that, they try to kick some of it away and end up stubbing their toe. Under the blankets is a large shiny pile of junk. Were they drunk last night?

They finish the rest of their two weeks at the cottage. They clean up the blankets and spend the nights in a bed that remains freezing even when they turn up the heater.

They go through the pictures they took over the last week and a half. There's some good ones but none that stand out. Nothing interesting or special

They feed the crows that frequently come to their window. 

When it's time to leave they get the biggest box they can and fill it with all the junk that they'd found under the blankets. The box sits at the back of their closet when they go back home

They manage to finish all of their studies during the next couple of years and somehow manage to cover all their student debt without any problems (their friends insist that they must have made a deal with the devil to achieve it).

They take freelance jobs as a professional photographer while they work retail part time. Somehow they always seem to have enough money to eat more than just cup noodles and they live in a pretty ok apartment.

They've also taken up driving away from the city to watch the stars during the weekends

Life is good. Normal. 

And then one day they're falling, ass first, into another world and meeting the most beautiful man they have ever seen.

His eyes widen a bit in something like surprise when he sees them but it's gone in a second and then he's telling them they're going to be part of an exchange program between three different realms and he's hoisting them on his brother.

And then they're begging him - Lucifer, that's his name, Lucifer - they're begging Lucifer to take them instead because one phone call with this Mammon guy and he sounds like a dick.

But Lucifer's shaking his head and he looks way too amused.

Then a loud is voice is coming from behind them, complaining about being lumped with a human.

And they're turning around to get a look at the asshole who was now responsible for their life and he screeches to a stop in front of them.

Eyes -familiar eyes, so very familiar- wide and surprised and confused, the anger dissolving from his face as his mouth opens and closes soundlessly.

And then he's saying their name, softly, softer than anyone has ever said it before.

This is posted on AO3 along with the other fake fic outlines/summaries! The link to it is pinned on my blog, feel free to leave a comment cause I feed off that shit :D

[dragonrajafanfiction]

The Red Well (End) Sisters

You guys haven’t had the pleasure of seeing Erii fight in this fanfiction. I present to you, Erii the Dragonslayer. And yes... she really is like this.

Golden snake-like bodies were tumbling into the Red Well.  The stampede had progressed to the point where even if a Deadpool understood that, if it fell, it would die when it hit the bottom, the pressures of those pushing behind it overwhelmed its need to survive. You couldn’t tell the difference between the screams from eager hunger and the terrified cries of the dying as the over 1,000 deadpool flooded the well. The bullet-riddled far wall in front of you became a sparkling wall of gold, like someone was pouring champagne. Eventually, the bodies of the dead and dying piled feet high to create a softer landing for those that came behind and now the horde was surging forward, eyes bulging in madness.

Erii calmly put her notepad back into her suitcase as though the hellish bedlam behind her was as ordinary as morning rush hour.  Then she turned her back on the Light King inhabiting your body and stepped towards the edge of the maintenance platform.

The Light King expected fear and got none. Now it was curious and was again rummaging through your memories for this fearless being called ‘sister.’

Chisei’s voice from a memory you didn’t consciously recall spoke. “Chime… I’m sorry.”

“Brother… I just want to be with you.” Chime could barely speak for his tears. He was gasping desperately. His voice was muffled, like he was hugging his brother. “I just want to be there. Please… don’t leave me behind. I know I’m useless… Just don’t leave me behind!” His voice descended into crying again.

Your heart warms. You didn’t remember this and there was no visual. You’d passed out listening to the beginning of the sentence. But your ears had still caught and recorded those words before you had completely lost all consciousness. The meddling of the Light King in your brain gave you a gift. The Gen brothers had reconciled. It should have been impossible, but your own forgiveness for the death of Chance gave you the power to literally ‘move forward’. You’d given that forgiveness willingly and unasked and this is what managed to give them a second chance. Despite your denials that you cared for Chisei, you had internalized enough of Chime’s love for his brother to come through in the end. Chisei is still a big dummy, but now he finally understood how badly Chime loved him.

The Light King mouthed the words from your lips. “Sister…?”

This great being that had taken control of your body and locked your mind in a cage did not retain any of the memories from her prior existence. She was rediscovering the world through your mind. Since this little human Erii who stood unblinkingly before her was associated with a familial word, it was pulling the memories based on the emotions they invoked, the bond of family. 

Erii reached the edge of the engineering platform and stood at the precipice of the deep hole that would lead to the lake below. “The person speaking to me is not my sister. Let my sister go or you will pay the price.” She said.

You had never heard Erii’s speak before. The tone was sweet and clear, and almost bored, but the language was a biting commanding snarl in the language of dragons, like an alpha wolf disciplining an errant pack member and who expected immediate obedience without question. There were no honorifics or polite gestures. Just a command followed by a threat.

A boiling explosive rage burst from the Light King! How dare this pitiful speck speak to her in that way! 

Erii softly hums and a warm wind begins to rise from the bottom of the well. It carried with it the scent of death and decay. Erii points her finger down towards the water.

A dense red cloud erupts from the bottom of the well, tossing her hair and skirt before it engulfs her. It’s superheated. The pressure against the wall of the well caused the ground to shake beneath you. Heavy metal debris, pieces of the Yamata-No-Orochi and all the myriads of skeletons of the dragon kin that died in the lake are carried in what could only be described as a geyser, a pyroclastic flow from a volcano in miniature. The rocks tremble and leap at your feet.  The encroaching Deadpool swarm hesitates to advance, fearful of that great heat.

The cloud continues to rise until it reaches the well opening and would appear like a dark red smoke in the middle of the mountains. Just like a cloud, it condensed as it rose and soon an eerie red rain began to fall. The objects carried by the cloud rained down too. Bones and body parts land with dull splats on the ground.

Your body’s limbs burst with energy and leap toward Erii. Your eyes are on her delicate white neck. Your arm curls to cut her with the Gathering Cloud Sword! The killing intent was clear. The Light King wanted to see her head sail off her body! But Erii disappears into that dense cloud of red. In seconds, your body is drenched in rank deadpool blood and chemicals. 

You look down into the well. Erii had instantly evaporated all the water in the well. The kilometer wide lake was completely empty.

As the mist clears you see a delicate running figure! Erii is fleeing! The Light King feels triumphant. Yes, run little sister! Fear me!

Erii had run to the other side of the well towards the safety cabins. The Light King laughed, pulling a memory that told her that the safety cabins could protect you from harm. So this pathetic little creature was afraid after all!

Her laughter stopped when Erii tossed her suitcase into the cabin and shut the door before turning back around. She wasn’t running in to protect herself. 

She just wanted to protect her stuff. 

Erii’s flight had taken her right into the middle of the deadpool swarm and they surrounded her like an army of footsoldiers. But no one wanted to be the first to strike. There was about ten yards between her and the deadpool swarm and they swayed like seagrass on their tails while Erii raised her hand. Her mouth opened and her voice spoke a single word. 

“Death!”

Evaporating the water wasn’t just a cover. Hydra had dumped 5,000 tons of mercury into the well. Mercury was far denser than water and extremely heavy. It had settled in a silver layer at the bottom of the lake and was now exposed. This silver layer came up, not as a cloud, but as a perfect sphere of liquid metal, like the pinball of a pinball machine. 

Erii snapped her hand shut. “Death!”

The silver ball burst into millions of silver mercury bullets and fired like birdshot into the thousands of dead pool bodies. In an instant, hundreds of perfect round holes were pitting into their scales. The speed and force of those projectiles drilled into their flesh and began to corrode the deadpool from the inside out. Black blood squirted in tiny streams from each of them like someone had poked holes into a plastic water bottle.

The front of the deadpool collapsed and they rushed to the wall to try to escape. The winged deadpool and those who could sprout wings tried to take off towards the opening of the well and get away from this monster!

Erii’s crimson eyes burned red and gold. She knelt down as though picking up a large and heavy object. Her hands closed around something and a force like a magnetic pulse that crackled with blue electricity sparked across the entire well. All the weapons in the well, from guns to rocket launchers to knives and swords levitated and converged towards her hand. All the weapons from the Engineering team and the Hydra operatives that had been left in the well were now being wielded by Erii.

When she lifted her hands over her head, these thousands of weapons lifted and came to be in the shape of a great blade, a blade made out of many individual weapons, something like the world had never seen before.

“Death!”

Erii swung this ‘sword’ once in a horizontal arc. The sword fractured and all the weapons surrounded her in a spectacular circular array and fired all at once. All the pistols, the submachine guns, the vulcan cannons, the rocket launchers - They all fired at the same time in a single thunderous volley! The swords and the knives flew out like self-propelled bullets, chasing and cutting their targets to pieces.

Deadpool heads exploded, their limbs fell off, they were skewered  and pinned to the ground and to the surrounding rocks. They were even pierced together like pieces of meat on a kabob. These powerful creatures had been reduced to fish in a barrel, unable to flee the unbelievable slaughter.

The army that the Light King had summoned fell under the bullets and were sliced apart by the flying swords. The winged deadpools’ limbs were severed before they could reach the top of the well. Their bodies were split to pieces and they fell to the ground in sections.

It was not that Erii knew how to wield any of these weapons. She didn’t have to. Her command to kill was enough for these weapons to fire with maximum lethality. Her life was like a video game where the player didn’t have to know how to kill anyone or anything. The enemy units died at the push of the button.

Erii was now walking unobstructed back towards the Light King on bloody ground, her red hair and bloody skirt flapping in the wind. Her skin is covered in silvery white scales, and from her hair two crystalline horns twisted in a straight corkscrew. Her golden eyes were like determined jewels and locked on yours. She was unarmed. But for the first time, you feel a cold creeping dread from this dragon in your body. You smile inwardly as you watch Erii come towards you. 

You recite your vow in your mind. “We are bound by blood and by love. We will never betray each other. We will always defend each other. And when one calls for help, we will dash to their rescue. If anyone comes between us… may they die!”

The Light King finally understood. A sister was blood and love, a violent and desperate thing. If the Light King wanted to fully resurrect and evolve with your body it would have to kill this sister!

The monster in your body dashed across the distance between you and Erii with inhuman speed, bare feet running heedlessly over the uneven ground, splashing up a wake of blood five feet high. Erii regally pulled herself straight to her full height like a queen and let this being come. Her body grew closer and closer in your vision and a scream tears from your throat. You can see the frightening emotionlessness behind Erii’s golden pupils before a metal disc as twice as tall as you are buzzsaws between you.

Instead of using a literal sword, Erii had summoned the saw blade that had broken the Yamata-no-Orochi into pieces. With the single command, she not only controlled the weapons, but also every object on the field, including the tools of the scientists.

You see your own reflection in this metal blade. Your skin is covered in scales like Erii’s. Your eyes are the color of lava -- gold and red and black. But the sudden appearance of this sawblade made your eyes widen with surprise.  The sawblade caught the swing of the Gathering Clouds sword and snapped in half. Erii gripped those gigantic half moon blades  as easily as if they were a pair of paper fans!

With every slash of the Gathering Cloud sword the buzzsaw snaps into more pieces! But Erii doesn’t stop her assault, wielding four, eight and then sixteen super sharp pieces of a giant circular saw against you. The shattered wheel spirals like fire in the air and the Gathering Cloud sword is a blur in your hand. The images of your body and Erii’s body disappear in this light as each of you reaches the limits of your speed and agility. But Erii doesn’t have to directly control every piece like you have to directly control the sword. In this she has the advantage. Soon there are two many pieces for even the dragon to follow. You scream inside and the Light King controlling you screams with your voice! The blades slice through your dress and through your scales, leaving deep gouges of running blood.

The Light King has not fed and doesn’t have much energy, but it draws from the reserves of your body and the skin of your back cracks open revealing large bone wings.  Your new wings stir the air. You wave the sword of Gathering Clouds and shoot upward to flee! The dragon inside you has given up on defeating Erii and wants to escape to eat!

A huge metal arm swings at you before you get half way out. Attached to a tall crane is a large sling  that had been used to hoist the Orochi out of the ice. This sling catches you like a butterfly in a net. The Light King slices its way out of this net but a bright light of a laser cutter severs that crane arm in two and the arm crashes down on you and brings you back to the ground. You’re pinned under this debris.

Erii is standing, legs parted and firm, holding a gigantic steel barrel over her head. She throws this barrel and the laser cutter swings to cut it open! A clear smoking liquid splashes out and covers you. You’re overtaken with a sudden painful, unbelievable cold! Freezing fog sweeps the well and the red rain freezes solid and turns to crimson ice and snow.

Liquid nitrogen! Erii has found one of the tanks of the liquid nitrogen and was using it to slow your body down! It burns you like fire and you want to curl into a ball and pass out, but so long as the dragon controlling your body was awake so were you and you just had to endure the pain.

The Light King doesn’t give up but it’s shivering violently. Your muscles are stiff with cold and the crane arm is heavy. It presses your hands to the ground to push up and slowly the metal debris starts to lift. 

A loud rumble reaches your ears. Erii, eyes still blazing with golden fire, has turned the laser cutters to the wall of the well. The lasers started on opposite sides and met in the middle and a huge chunk of solid rock slid off the well wall, bringing down boulders the size of cars onto the scattered remains of the dead and what was left of the undamaged equipment. 

A second crane grabs this house sized boulder on a hook and two-feet thick chain and Erii’s tiny body leaps up to seize that chain. With a mighty heave she lifts that boulder and throws it down on you.

The Light King’s vision fills with what could only be described as a meteor coming down on it. But it was helpless to dodge. It takes the full force of the blow and the crushing weight that leaves a meters wide crater. Erii lifts the boulder and the Light King’s wings have been shattered. But she still looks up and cries out in defiance! Erii is merciless and lifts the boulder again! The boulder smashes down again! The Light King in your body is gasping in stunned disbelief. But Erii is not finished. She brings down the boulder again! And again!

The thunderous sound of this brutal beating sounds like exploding dynamite. The entire area shook and it registered on Tokyo’s Earthquake Monitoring System. She brought down that boulder on your head until it finally shattered to pieces and fell from the hook. Erii leaped from the crane and walked up to you, striding confidently through the shattered rock.

The Light King had no strength left in this body. Your mind is blank with pain. You barely register that Erii is standing over you and looking down at you.

A small thing is wiggling on your back, attached to your spine. The Light King has decided that it doesn’t want your body any more. It wants Erii’s! It lets you go and is trying to wriggle out of your scaly skin. But Erii points at it with one delicate fingertip.

“Death.”

There’s a soft snap, like someone breaking a pencil in half. The creature stiffens. Its whole body turns black and then it crumbles to ashes.

The legacy of the Light King ended in that moment. The Light King would no longer rise again in the world.

The violent presence in your mind releases and you’re suddenly back in your body! The pain is dizzying, but your body is already working frantically to heal itself from its injuries. Your muscles are twitching with phenomenal regrowth even with this terrible cold. Erii lifts off the remaining debris from you and hugs you. 

You relax into her warm embrace and you shiver. Your body is split open still and your blood soaks her head to toe. Little by little, the scales disappear to reveal plain white skin. Erii’s horns loosen and fall from her head.

“How did you find me?” You ask her.

Erii doesn’t speak again. She just shakes her head slightly and ducks under your arm to help you to your feet. She supports you all the way across one of the most devastating battlefields in history to the safety cabin and sets you down before opening the door and returning with a notebook. She writes in it and shows it to you.

“I don’t know. I was supposed to be going to the airport. Have you seen Sakura?”

[chancelloramidala]

Staring at the Sun ➤ Evan Buckley

Chapter Two: All’s Fair in Love and Work

Masterlist

Marceline can’t help but keep a wall divide between herself and her feelings. She doesn’t like to talk about them, she doesn’t even like to acknowledge that she has them. She likes to pretend that the more she ignores her emotions that they’ll eventually go away like a cold.

But the thing is, emotions don’t work like that. Sometimes something’s gotta give. The heartbreak, anger, and sadness start to spill over on the lid she duct-taped shut a hundred times over.

So there she was, staring a hole into the back of Buck’s head while he talked to Bobby about Abby for the millionth time. 

“She’s great, Bobby… like, seriously. I don’t know how I’m so lucky to have her in my life.” Buck said with a bright big smile that made Marceline’s knees weak and her heart tremble. 

Bobby nodded, ever-so the father figure, and patted Buck’s shoulder from across the counter that divided them. “I’m glad to hear that, Buck. You deserve someone good like that.”

There was a loud metal screech that came from the chair Marceline suddenly jumped out of. Hen and Chimney shot her a worried glance from the end of the table they were sitting on while Bobby and Buck both raised a brow.

“You good there, Mars?” Chimney asked her as she dug her nails into her palms to keep her cool.

“I just have too much energy, that’s all.” Marceline smoothly lied before throwing the long single braid that hung over her chest to her back. “I’m going to do some workouts to try and relieve some of it.”

And before anyone could say anything to that, Marceline zoomed past and used the fire pole for a quick exit. 

The young woman grabbed a metal cylinder that was no bigger than her thumb but at least two times as thick from her locker before walking towards an empty space downstairs. She then aimed both ends of the cylinder away from her body as she placed her thumb on the metal ball and pressed down. At the other end, was a thin latch that she pulled and at the same time released her thumb from the metal ball, and whoosh the bo staff was released. Well, this is better than smoking.

The metal bo staff was six feet tall, so she required enough room to do some of her practice stances. It’s been a while since Marceline has used the bo staff because there was nowhere in her place with Nicolette to use it, and it gained some stares when she’d bring it to the local gym.

So she started off simple, the basic spins. Marceline stood with her feet apart, her left leg forward with the staff held in her left hand up off of the floor. She held the staff in the middle before taking in a deep breath. 

Let’s see if you’ve still got it, Pierce.

When she exhaled, she slowly turned the staff front and back leaning into her body and made sure that her thumb was leading the fluid motions similar to a figure eight. When she grew comfortable enough, instead of turning the staff from the front and back, she spun it as well, in reverse to the last spin.

She did this for another two minutes, allowing the familiar motions to take hold before switching the staff to her right hand almost instantly. 

After getting used to this, and feeling the muscle memories fall into perfect harmony within her. All that heartbreak, anger, and sadness dwindled away momentarily as Marceline swiftly fell into a familiar rhythm. She continued to mix up the various strikes, spins, and blocks into her routine as they popped up in her brain.

But just because Marceline was getting really into her workout, didn’t mean that she was oblivious to a certain paramedic descend down the stairs. The familiar presence of Hen filled the thick air surrounding the other woman with ease even if she didn’t stop her fluid movements.

“I got you some water,” Hen said, holding up a bottle of water. “Thought you might be thirsty from all of… that.” she gestured vaguely at the bo staff Marceline swung around in the air.

“Thanks, Hen,” Marceline replied before raising her staff above her head to effortlessly spin it against her palm.

Marceline has always been a hard person for Hen to read because of how unwilling she was to talk about herself or how she felt. It was essentially the equivalent of trying to cut open a rock with a plastic spoon in Hen’s opinion. It’s always a guessing game to figure out if Marceline was angry or sad or even happy. And although Marceline was an asset to this team, (which was more of a family, really) with her brute strength and quick thinking during intense calls, she was also intensely private about her personal life. She was a true mystery for anyone that met her and that frustrated the older woman.

But for once, Hen finally felt clued in on how Marceline was feeling. She has successfully connected the dots.

“So,” Hen started as she leaned against the hood of the ladder truck and crossed her arms over her chest as she looked at Marceline. “What do you think about Buck and Abby?”

Marceline nearly dropped the bo staff onto her head when she was spinning it up above.

Hen tries to hide her very best amusement.

Marceline navigates the staff in front of her and plants one end to the concrete floor while the other is aimed at the ceiling. Then, she starts to close the staff, keeping one hand planted in the middle of it, steady and firm. Her other hand is at the top end, twisting it until the length of the staff shortens to the point where she’s on her knees and slipping the latch through.

After closing her staff, Marceline looks up to find that Hen is still waiting for an answer to her previous question. For a moment, she contemplates even answering but decides against it. “I don’t have an opinion on their relationship,” 

Hen snorts. “Bullcrap,”

Marceline visibly stifles at that and then heads to her locker to put away her staff, presuming that Hen would follow behind her. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Well, I’m talking about how you clearly don’t like Abby.” Hen was now standing in the doorway, blocking her escape.

“I don’t have an opinion on Abby,” Lies, lies, lies.

Marceline felt Hen’s eyes pierce through her back.

“At your welcome back party, you were pissed that Buck brought a plus one.”

She ended up slamming the door to her locker shut with such force that it nearly made the other woman jump in surprise. “No, I was pissed that you guys even threw a party, to begin with.” Now Marceline was facing Hen, her lips curled into a scowl. “I don’t like the unnecessary attention, ya know.”

Hen sighed. She wanted to bite back with well I don’t really know anything about you but kept those thoughts to herself. “Fine, if you don’t want to talk about it, you don’t have to.” she mused before softening her stare at Marceline, knowing that she can’t force any information out of her (even though she’d like to). “But I’m here if you’d like to… ya know, talk.”

Marceline kept quiet, unsure of how to respond with such sincerity towards her. So Hen left her in the locker room, allowing her to collect her thoughts before the alarm rang out.

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“9-1-1, what’s your emergency?”

“Help, I think my two-year-old sister locked herself in my parent’s wardrobe!”

“Alright, ma’am. What’s your name and address?”

“Lillian McHugh at the Angelene Apartments in West Hollywood- uh, uh, second floor, room… April? April- oh my god please help she’s wailing!”

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“Alright guys, we got a two-year-old girl stuck in a wooden wardrobe. The older sister called it in,” Bobby said over the headset as they sped down the highway with Marceline honking the horn and flashing the siren fiercely.

“Why the hell wasn’t the older sister watching her sister? She’s a literal baby.” Buck asked before the ladder truck came to a sudden stop.

“Let’s go ask her, herself,” Marceline said as she parked the truck to the side of the road before getting out.

As everyone exited the truck, they gathered their things before heading into the apartment building. Once they made it to the right floor, they didn’t even have to knock on the door. In the hallway stood a teenage girl who looked no older than fourteen with a frantic expression on her face.

“Oh my god, finally!” the girl, Lillian sighed out in relief.

Bobby stepped forward and nodded at her. “We’re LAFD, you called 9-1-1 saying that your two-year-old sister locked herself in your parent’s wardrobe?”

Lillian winced as she nodded slowly and lead the firefighters into the apartment. “Yeah, uh… we were playing hide-and-seek and she takes the game super serious for a baby… god, I didn’t even think she knew how to climb up that high into the chest and when I finally found her-”

“Do you know how long she’s been in the wardrobe?” Hen asked, stepping beside the teenager as they followed her into the huge master bedroom.

“I don’t know… maybe like- twenty minutes… I’m sorry I just-” Lillian huffed angrily as she pulled at the ends of her hair, frustrated tears falling from her eyes. “It’s my fault, fuck-- my parents are going to kill me.”

Everyone then gathered around the oak wardrobe that looked straight out of the goddamn Narnia movies. Bobby started to instruct everyone to do something, Buck was told to use the saw, careful not to hit the baby, while Chimney, Hen, and Bobby coaxed the scared two-year-old as she wept. Then there was Marceline who hung back just in case something went haywire, keeping her arms crossed over her chest anxiously as she eyed the wardrobe.

“No, they won’t,” Marceline said softly, looking over at the teenage girl with a soft expression. “It was a mistake, they’ll understand that.” she then spared Bobby a look when he had Buck stop using the saw as the baby, April’s cries grew louder. The noise of the saw was probably scaring her more. “I think April could really use your help. She’s confused and in the dark, and I think she’d greatly appreciate hearing her big sister’s voice telling her that everything will be okay.”

Lillian slowly rubbed her eyes and turned to Marceline as she started to calm down. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Marceline nodded gently. “My older brother used to help calm me down a lot when I was little and it helped.” then she slowly guided Lillian towards the wardrobe with a small, encouraging smile.

“Hey, April? It’s me, Lilly,” she waited for a response as it went silent. She then gave the firefighters a nervous look before going on, “There are nice people here who want to help you get out, okay? All you gotta do is come near my voice and don’t move…” Lillian sighed and pressed her forehead against the wooden wall she was talking into. “I know, it’s scary right now, but we’ll get you out of here okay? I’ll give you all the cotton candy you can dream of when you get out, okay?”

A sniffle and a hiccup could be heard before a quiet, “Okay” was heard along with some shuffling coming from inside of the wardrobe.

Bobby gestured to the opposite side Lillian was at as he looked at Buck. “Right here, Buck,”

“Got it,” Buck nodded at his Captain and turned on the saw, beginning to cut into the wood.

And in no later than five minutes, Buck had successfully gotten April out and had the baby in his arms before handing her off to her sister. Lillian hugged April so tight and cried into her sister’s hair, kissing her all over. It was a sight for sore eyes and Marceline watched the entire thing with a small smile on her lips.

Before they left, Hen and Chimney looked April over to make sure that nothing bad happened to her inside the wardrobe. As Marceline was about to leave, small dark arms suddenly snaked around her torso. Her brown and green eyes widened, looking down at the source to find that Lillian was hugging her.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

Marceline stood there, her arms awkwardly hovering in the air unsure of what to do. So she gave the girl a small pat on the back before clearing her throat. “I didn’t do much, you should be thanking Buck, he’s the one who got your sister out.”

“I already hugged him,” Lillian said in a matter-of-fact kind of tone that most teenagers used. “But you were the one to help guide me into helping my sister. You were like… like my big sister right then and there.”

Marceline was at a loss for words.

“I think your big brother would be proud of you.”

Again, Marceline was at a loss for words because what the fuck. When did pre-teens become so perceptive?

“Thanks,” she mustered out.

And now she was driving the ladder truck back to the station, her lips pressed into a thin line. Over the headset, Buck was asking everyone where he should take Abby on their next date. God, how Marceline wished she could just crash this truck right now so she wouldn’t have to hear how excited Buck was about his upcoming date. 

Fuck you, heart. She cursed herself. It just had to be Evan Buckley, didn’t it?

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One moment Marceline was making out with a very attractive blonde woman in the bathroom of a bar and the next she was running out of the bar entirely. She couldn’t keep grinding against the blonde woman and sucking on her neck without wishing this girl was someone else. Another blonde, but taller, muscular, with a peculiar birthmark on his left eye… and yeah, it was Buck she was imagining.

So she ran out, ripping herself away from the girl and leaving, paying her tab and just booking it down the street. If anyone else were to see her, they’d just see a woman going on a run at night after a forty-eight-hour shift for you know, exercise. But no, that was not what Marceline was doing. She was just running from her mind, her annoying intrusive thoughts about Buck and his lips and his eyes and his arms and his shoulder muscles and-- just everything about him.

She kept running until she made it to a familiar doorstep and rang the doorbell. Marceline leaned against the doorway, her chest heaving because holy shit she really just ran like three miles in skinny jeans. 

The door opened to reveal Hen, who was surprised to find Marceline at her doorstep and shot her a confused and equally concerned look. “Um, hello?”

“Uh,” Marceline started to finally catch up to the fact that she ran to Hen’s house. “Hi,”

Hen looked behind Marceline before staring at her up and down. “Did you run here?”

“Heh, yeah, uh, I did.” she clicked her tongue, suddenly craving some nicotine on her tongue. “Yeah, um, sorry about this. I just kind of… running and… yeah…”

“Would you like to come inside?”

“Uh,”

Marceline contemplated this for a moment, unsure if this was something she should really be doing but then again if she… what? Subconsciously ran to Hen’s house, then yeah, maybe she should go inside.

“Yeah, I’d actually like to… um… talk?” she alluded to the conversation they had in the locker room a day ago now.

Hen nodded before a small comforting smile appeared on her lips. “Of course, come in, make yourself comfortable.

@skyslowalking​ & @beelarson​ once again, this is 4 u <3

[meetthemoosemonster]

*Enderman noises*

Hey yall, I wrote a Ranboo fanfic and thought I’d post the link on here so its with all the other things that I write and show random people on the internet!

*Enderman noises* (1918 words) by nika_write_snow Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF Rating: Not Rated Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Ranboo & Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF) Characters: Ranboo (Video Blogging RPF), Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF) Additional Tags: Mentioned Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), Mentioned TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Dadza, Enderman Hybrid Ranboo (Video Blogging RPF), Winged Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Angst, Fluff and Angst, Fluff, Panic Attacks Summary:

Ranboo finds out he has one of Tommys disks, Philza notices the ruined property value and parents the scared enderboy.

"here is the ao3 link, tell me if it doesnt work or something.

Summary:

Ranboo finds out he has one of Tommys disks, Philza notices the ruined property value and parents the scared enderboy.

Or

What I wished happened after Ranboo found the disk, with Dadza because I have Parent Issues (yup, its not just one of them, hahahahahahahahaha)

Characters:

Ranboo

Philza

Content Warnings:

Panic attacks Mild injury That's all I think, but if I missed one please tell me so I can fix it!

Under the cut is the full work, remember, Reblogs fuel the writing braincell!

Purple particles buzzed around Ranboo, his body also vibrating as his breath sped up and his brain grew foggy. This happens sometimes, when things got really bad, and Ranboos memory really started to slip, or he was just straight up panicking. The half enderman boy was sat shaking in front of an open chest surrounded by dug up dirt and soft looking snowflakes that bit at Ranboos skin. He was staring blankly at the green disk in the chest, making vwoops and crackly noises each time the reality of his situation hit him. The enderman hybrid shook his head, making more aggressive enderman noises for a second, then tried to take a deep breath.

‘You're ok, You're ok. Dream isn't here right now. Dream can’t-’

‘I have cat. I have one of Tommys discs. I have one of THE DISCS. Dream gave ME one of THE DISCS? Why? Why would Dream do that? Why would he trust me with something that gave him so much control over Tommy? What did I do?’

‘You didn't do anything, you would have written it down in your memory book,  you would’ve, wouldn't you?’

‘Would I? I didn't write down that I blew up the community house, but I definitely did that, right? I mean, I had that tnt, it must have been me. I just didn't write it down cause I didn't want to remember. What else am I forgetting? What else did I do that was so bad that I didn't even write it down? What else did I want to forget about? What else-’

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Philza was looking through chests looking for glass. The honey farm had broken again, and he needed bottles to fix it.

“This chest system is still scuffed from Tommy, that gremlin child really doesn't know organization does he.” Phil shook his wings in exasperation. He was still looking for the glass when he heard the sounds of an upset enderman. Confused why Edward was so riled up, Phil looked over at the enderman sat awkwardly in a boat, the mobs limbs too long to fit inside. Phil only got more concerned when he saw that Edward was only making small, concerned vwoops after the more aggressive noises, head was turned to look out the window towards Ranboos shack. 

Phil followed the endermans gaze to look at Ranboos shack through the window and sucked in a breath. What used to be a snowy lawn in front of Ranboos makeshift base was now a big hole of messily dug up dirt. Phil could see Ranboos figure, looking eerily small for his actual towering height, hunched over in front of a small chest, a shovel shimmering on the ground next to him. But what concerned Phil the most were the enderman noises coming from the area. Phil had heard Ranboo make some enderman noises before when he talked to Edward, and a couple in passing to himself, he'd never seen such loud scared crackles and vibrating noises from him before.  Another small worried vwoop from Edward grounded Phil enough to realize that this kid probably needed help. Phil grabbed his coat and wrapped it awkwardly around his wings before he rushed out the door and headed to where Ranboo was. 

As Phil approached, he could clearly see the cloud of purple particles around Ranboo, who appeared to be shaking, no, vibrating. His suit was wet from the melted snow, and plastered to his body, and Phil flinched remembering how much water could hurt enderman. His hair was also soaking, the white and black strands dripping. There was an indent where his crown would usually be, but Phil could see the red and green jewel encrusted golden band a couple blocks away, in one of the deeper areas of the damage. Phils footsteps slowed the closer he got to the dug up lawn, trying not to scare the kid with heavy footsteps on snow. 

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Ranboo was trying to breath. ‘In, out, in, out, in, out, in, out, in- Does it even matter?’ He understood better now why he might have wanted to forget. It would be easier to not remember the chest or its contents, ‘Traitor’, Dreams voice in his head, his panic room. But the thought of forgetting and then finding out what he'd done when his friends, ‘Are they my friends?’, found out what he had done filled his body with terror and caused his eyes to well up with tears. It felt familiar. ‘Why does it feel familiar?’ The air around Ranboo felt like it was vibrating with the enderman hybrid and the particles that circled around him, and the glitchy noises started getting louder.

‘Stop thinking, stop, STOP, STOP THINKING.’ Ranboo let out the enderman equivalent of a scream, and then winced as he felt tears fall down the sides of his face, leaving burning trails of pain.

“Hey, Mate, you okay?” Ranboo jolted at Phils soft voice, a small surprised vwoop coming out. 

“Oh, Oh, um, yeah” Ranboo said quickly, hastily trying to close the chest in front of him, but accidentally slamming the lid on his thumb as his shaky hands fumbled with it. “Im fine, I was just uh…..” He trailed off, not having a good explanation for the mess that he made other than the truth. And he couldn't tell Phil that. ‘But you can! You should, so you stop betraying everyone.’

“Mhm…” Phil hummed skeptically as he looked at the chaos, but decided not to press. He looked back at Ranboo, who was shakily trying to stand up, but then had to sit back down, his body too exhausted and painful. Ranboo looked up for a second, locking eyes with the winged man standing cautiously in front of him. He realized his mistake too late, and was too exhausted to stop the instinctual reaction. He felt his jaw fall and the air begin to buzz intensely all over again. He felt defensive beyond reason, like he always did when he lost control while making eye contact. Luckily, Phil noticed Ranboo tense up and saw his jaw fall, showing off purple glowing teeth like spikes and looked down, breaking eye contact. His gaze found the black and white mask Ranboo usually had covering his mouth was on the ground next to them, soaked and abandoned.

“How about you come into Technos house with me so we can get you dried up, Ok?” Phil was still looking at the ground, and couldn't see if Ranboo was calmer now, but he felt the buzzing particles in the air fade significantly at his quiet words. Phil dared to glance back at the soaking white and black kid, and relaxed when he saw Ranboo was also looking down, more out of exhaustion than anything, but definitely more calm now. His jaw was back where it usually was, and he was no longer vibrating intensely. 

“Ok, here, let me pick up your crown and mask, and then we can head back to the house.” When he had put the 2 items away he held out his hand to Ranboo who took it carefully, almost as if he was afraid it would be snatched back. But it wasn't, and Phil helped Ranboo stand up, and started to lead the boy through the snow, leaving the chest behind them. Ranboo leaned against the significantly shorter man next to him, stumbling through the snow, his brain foggy from the pain and fear. Philza felt him shaking slightly, and nearly pulled away, worried that the enderman hybrid was panicking again. Almost immediately he realized that Ranboo was just shivering from the cold, being in a soaking wet suit surrounded by snow was going to make nearly anyone freezing cold, Enderman hybrids being no exception. Phil freed one of his wings from his coat and wrapped it around the kid to warm him up, not caring that he would have to deal with wet feathers later.

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When they reached the house Phil got Ranboo a spare bed, which the boy flopped gratefully down on. Phil chuckled quietly for a second before grabbing a set of antarctic empire style clothes and placing them on the bed.

“Don’t go to sleep yet mate, you need to change out of those wet clothes so you don't hurt yourself anymore.” Ranboo slowly nodded as he sat back up and ran his shivering hands over the soft material of the clothes. Phil started towards the stairs, then looked back for a second.

“I'll be right back with something warm for you to drink so you can warm up quicker, and a health pot or 2 so we can take care of the water damage. Once you're done with that you can sleep, Ok?” Ranboo mumbled something that Phil took as an agreement, and headed the stairs.

Ranboo changed into the fuzzy clothes as quick as his shivering, tired body would let him, too tired to question why the clothes fit him perfectly despite the fact that he towered over Phil, Techno, and Tommy too. He sat back down before his legs could give out again and sighed, feeling himself getting warmer. 

His eyes were beginning to fall closed when he heard Phils foot footsteps and looked over to Philza, who was holding a steaming mug in one hand, and a health potion in the other. He also had a towel draped over his arm. Phil handed the enderman hybrid the health potion first, which he drank quickly, and then the towel. Ranboo just wrapped it around his head, too tired to put anymore effort into drying his hair. The bed shifted slightly as Phil sat down on the bed, maneuvering his wings around so he could give Ranboo space. Ranboo took the mug of what he could now tell was hot chocolate and began to take small, experimental sips. 

After a bit he pulled his knees up to his chest and leaned against Phils body, still taking small sips of his drink. Phil smiled at the boy and slowly wrapped his wings around them both, hoping it would help warm up Ranboo faster. When the enderman hybrid was done with his drink he closed his eyes and let his head rest on Phils shoulder, letting out a small sigh before he fell asleep. Phil didn't move for a bit, only moving his hand to carefully take the mug out of the others hand, and he settled down for a while, just thinking about the day's whole ordeal. Questions filled his brain. ‘Why did Ranboo dig up all that area so messily? What was even in that chest, and why was he so obviously scared of me seeing it? Why was he so scared?’ Phil tried his best to just brush them off, he would ask Ranboo another day, when he was more calm, and feeling better. 

Some time had passed by now, and Philzas wings were beginning to cramp, so he gently laid the boy down on the bed, and carefully threw a thick blanket over him. Ranboo looked very peaceful in this moment, small vwoops coming out occasionally, but he didn't sound distressed. Phil smiled for a second before he grabbed the pile of wet clothes and took them upstairs to get washed and dried with the mask. Ranboo felt safe and warm for the first time in a long time, and he was content, dreaming about defeating a dragon with a steak or something, snuggled under the warm blanket. Who knows, dreams are weird.

Thank you for reading! If you got to this point I wish you the most amazing day, thank you!