#tw cleaner drinking(??????)

[puffycloud2]

FUCK FUCKING FUCK FUCK ;-;

@fluffygiraffe @unibeartoon @cloudxxiii @comicmaker

the reason i haven't been online is because you know.

GETTING REPETADEDLY GROUNDED OVER AND OVER AGAIN (im like goanimate caillou bitch >:'l)

also it was kinda tied to my grades and... well... im kinda failing a bit.

(also forgive me but the same day when i was about to get it back my stepdad found my grades and i cant have it back unless i get Cs on my grades ((im this close)) also i was about to say i had a fucking breakdown and my ass deiced to drink cleaner ((it tasted nasty af but it was mostly water and toxic free so im okay now)

I HABVNT GONE OUT ON MY OWN IN DSAYS AND I HAVE TO RESORT USING PROXIE WEBSITES TO SEE OATD CONTENT ON TUMBLR HELP ;-;

anyway happy valentines day, cya guys probably never again :')

[paterday]

The most frustrating thing to me. Is that my art could be miles better. If i did not spend 3 years being actively suicidal everyday. Like i know i did not control that but man.

[vagabond-umlaut]

for love is flesh, it is a flower flooded with blood

you're ravishing while gojo is ravenous— rabidly so.

gojo x fem!reader; everyone is 18+ here; somewhat one-sided enemies to lovers; the summary explains more than any no. of tags can ever; tw: cannibalistic tendencies & blood & violence [nothing of the like happens tho!!]; tw: mentions of throwing up and being sick; SATORU IS PINING HERE, AND IT AIN'T A PRETTY SIGHT TO GAZE ON; he seriously needs to go to therapy; unestablished relationship; there's fluff too, dw; 2.5k wc

belongs to the series 'fictitious force' but can be read as a stand-alone if you wanna

fic title from 'poem of the end' by marina tsvetaeva // header from pinterest // divider by @/adornedwithlight // jjk isn't mine

gojo wants to eat you whole.

too ridiculous, even for him— is it not?

maybe... maybe not... the man does not know. he decidedly does not care— not when you're there beside him. seeming this delectable. an alluring treat for his palate— he's surer of this than of the ridges in his palms.

you stir in your sleep.

something gnaws at his heart. shifts in the hollow of his stomach.

strengthening when your features relax. worsening when your mouth twitches, its shape pleased. settling down when your mien flattens in its wonted neutrality.

gojo bites back a groan. only to sigh noisily when you shuffle closer.

years ago, were anyone to tell him that one day he would be seconds away from dying from pangs of an indescribable hunger— agonising, antagonising— for someone catnapping in the seat next to his. in an overcrowded train, sickeningly so, at 10 on a monday morning—

he would have punched the informer. perhaps sent them into a coma if the day wasn't treating him very well... but then again.

you're not just someone, are you?

a bite of candy: so crunchy. refreshing. sweet. when his brain is a bit too tired. a bit too sluggish. a bite of mango: its addicting sweetness dancing on his taste buds. trickling down the corner of his lips. more than welcome after a year of wait. a sip of hot chocolate: the warmth of the drink, homely and sweet. lulling him into a dreamless sleep as he nestles in his childhood blanket. a sip of water: supposed to taste bland, but tastes so sweet. sweeter than nectar, after training—

it's confusing, even for gojo.

but the man believes you'll taste akin a mix of all these he has listed—

he stops. and wonders. will this hunger of his be satiated if he steals away only a small taste of yours? it won't be anything much!! maybe not even a taste, now that he thinks about it... just a touch.

yeah.

yeah, yeah, yeah. it'll be one and only one touch. and nothing more—

can he reach out and caress your cheek once?

he can... obviously, he can. there is nothing he, the strongest, cannot! but... what if his need manifests claws.

what if his need tears at the delicate skin. gouges the soft flesh there — deriving an animalistic, depraved pleasure from the rivers of blood which would be flowing—

no sooner does the image flutter into gojo's mind, than he screws his eyes shut and resolutely burns it. brain already whirring with the next possible course of action. something better. something cleaner—

can he intertwine his fingers with you then?

they look so small. they look so pretty. just so perfect. as if they have always been meant to slip into the gaps between his fingers. erasing the emptiness from there. and from within the fissures formed in his self, for once and for all time— ah.

but what if he squeezes your hand too hard.

what if he bruises you and breaks your bones, in his attempts to allay his craving for you. to mitigate his madness for you. the violet colour blooming on your unblemished skin. the following crack! and crunch! of your frail bones beneath his unyielding grasp. beneath the teeth of his hunger—

no, no, never, never, never!

a wave of something bitter, something bilious rolls through the man.

he draws in a deep breath— and pauses.

gojo can't touch you without hurting you, but he definitely can lean in a little closer... and get a whiff of your perfume, right?

not anything much, it'll be nothing at all. and it isn't like, the moment he tilts himself towards you, he's going to grow fangs— fangs, all too ready to sink into the column of your neck. thirsty for the feel of your blood. the tiny beads of it on his tongue, sweet. yes, addictively so— and maybe, since he's already there... he can leave a loving sign from his side on your skin. dark red. enticing, but defintely not as much as the taste of you. certain to linger in his mouth. persist in his thoughts— conscious and everything not. even after it's been eons—

the train lurches to a sudden stop.

and with it, does gojo's vivid daydream as well— but he doesn't care.

not when the resulting clamour in the compartment has awoken you. not when your face is gaining a shade of upset. pretty cute, he thinks. but the man also believes such a sight isn't meant for these unworthy souls in this place, so...

how bad then, is it not? that he can do nothing about it. he can't blind these people. nor can he ask you to not make such a face. you simply won't take kindly to either of those—

thus leaving him helplessly watching. shamelessly staring.

the way your eyebrows scrunch closer. lips dip into a small pout, then break apart in a yawn. finally followed by your eyes blinking open. too bleary for such a bright morning, but to gojo, they appear to outshine the sun itself.

it takes you a beat to find your bearings. he waits patiently, keen eyes watching your every movement. every minuscule expression. another yawn spills past your lips, noisier than the previous. making the man's cheeks twinge from the growing stretch of his grin. ribs ache from his swelling heart.

you take another moment to focus your foggy mind on him. frowning as you do. gaze flitting from him to your loud fellow passengers, then back to him.

your frown worsens. gathers a pinch of concern.

"is... everything okay, senpai? you don't look too alright out there."

he doesn't!?!?

no. of-fucking-course, no.

he's the strongest sorcerer in the world, yes. there's no doubt about it— but even he is a little too weak to not grow weary when fighting his irrepressible urges to gorge himself on you...

realising he has been silent for a tad too long, gojo struggles to drag back his fading grin. before deciding to just let go of it. dropping his mouth into the most pitiful shape he can, he grumbles. sounding so aggrieved and in such a terrible pain.

"you seeing this compartment, darling? it's so cramped, so noisy, so very under-ventilated— it's making me wanna puke, babyyy!"

features crumpling up— he chooses not to probe why— you exhale a rather heavy sigh. and retort, "i never asked you to accompany me to work, senpai. you were the one who insisted. who invited himself— 's not my problem if you bite off more than you c— wait a second," you cut yourself off abruptly, eyes becoming rounder and tone turning an awful lot panicked, "you aren't really feeling nauseous, are you? i have few candies and a packet of crackers— you wanna munch on those??— or wait a sec, you can drink some water from my bottle— or... wait. i'll just get up and tell these people to move away. you need some air to breathe freely—"

"will you let me eat you?"

lights flickering, the train shudders into a sudden start.

but gojo's heart stumbles into a stop. when he realises he has spoken something he must have never let see the light of day. something the man must have never let reach you— you might always be wearing an awful tough exterior, but you're rather sensitive beneath it... innocent and sweet, the lamb to his wolf.

the man probably shouldn't, yeah. yet he allows his insides to twist in glee at the face you make— bathed in warm hues as you gape at him.

those brilliant eyes, wide and unblinking. lips parted, not-too-slightly. the rest of your body, so perturbed not one whole minute back, but a little too still now in that uncomfortable seat— gojo wants to... but he decides not to jerk you away from a state as this. it isn't everyday you let him drink the sight of you in a state as this.

it takes you much longer than he expected you to borrow to recover. thirteen seconds versus your usual three.

the train picks up speed in the backdrop.

your face slips behind its mask of placidity. but the concern wrinkling your forehead and furrowing your brows is clear as day for him to see. loud as bells for him to hear when you speak, tone quiet and adorably soft.

"i think you need some rest, senpai. we'll get down at the next station and i'll call ijichi-san to pick you up then drop you home, okay?— i will also ask ieiri-san to check you once— think you've caught some virus, or maybe it's just fatigue. that's why you're looking and feeling so sick— definitely why you're asking me such a question."

gojo doesn't need any foresight to know he will regret his next course of action. very much, if not more than that ask which slipped past the cracks in his defenses— but now? in this specific instant? he reckons he'll regret even more if he doesn't do what he wants to do.

what that hunger within him wants him to do— fuelled by your worry for him. care for him. disbelief for him. the impending doom wherein you'll leave him behind, leave him suffering—

a voice floats through the air, announcing the train to be approaching the next station.

slipping the bag onto your shoulder, you move to stand up. a precious urgency highlighting your actions as you do— only for him to encircle your wrist in his fingers. yanking you back into the seat, before you've even left it entirely. a noise akin a gasp, a stifled gasp, spills past your lips. pinching him, helped by the startled look offered alongside. gojo wills himself to ignore the pain, however.

every sense zeroing in on you. only you. as he tugs you even closer to himself. and murmurs, words uttered, slowly and carefully. meant for you and him only, and not for anyone else outside this bubble he has been building around you both.

"but what if i say you are why i'm so ill, and eating you is the only way i can get cured— will you let me eat you then, darling?"

"i..." you start. but then stop. you look a little breathless, gojo thinks. a little too weak perhaps. your placid mask, a little too close to cracking open, falling to the floor in pieces...

the signs are all gone albeit, before the man can etch any of them to his brain. before he can even know if he was just seeing things.

"senpai," you reply evenly, calmly, "we are deboarding the train at the next station for sure. i'll book a cab there and personally drop you off at the school, yeah? ieiri-san needs to—"

gojo whispers your name.

its syllables, too piercing. too pleading. too foreign on a tongue which has only ever called you by terms of endearment. utterly uncaring for how much you complain. uncaring for the rumors, you've always said his antics will give rise to, when there's actually no fire to give birth to the smoke.

hah, if you only saw the fire melting him from within.

he makes a move to call you by your name yet again. but you cut him off before he can. the pieces of your mask crumble into dust, turning into nothing before he can even register what is happening.

your lower lip trembles. just once. barely noticeably so. "you're crazy. stupidly, unbelievably, insanely crazy— you need to get help, senpai."

you're insulting him. lowkey, highkey, it doesn't matter. nothing does, except the fact you're insulting him.

he doesn't even think before he decides it too doesn't matter.

tightening his grasp on your wrist, he leans towards you. shaping his lips in a grin. maybe a bit too predatory, but eh. if you have read him well enough to suggest needing help, he trusts you to know the kind of reaction he will return.

grin wavering for a beat, when your blood gives a frantic push against his thumb pressing onto your artery, he retorts, "what if i say i'm in no need of any help? what if u say i need you— just you— will you permit me then, huh?"

you probably won't, few voices in his head state. studying the utterly stricken look you're offering him in answer. the man doesn't hesitate to choke them into an eternal silence.

you ask, "will i be okay if i say 'no', senpai?"

"i'm hurt you think you won't be," gojo snaps back with a frown. soft but biting, a pretty intentional action of his. you wince a little. words not even taking one whole second to from before bubbling out.

"okay, yeah— 'm sorry. i know you'll never force me— i'm really sorry," you repeat, features more distressed than he would ever like them to be— he lets his frown smoothen out.

face lightening, he notes your shoulders slump a little— before seeing the way your eyebrows huddle together. he acutely registers you shift closer to him. voice ringing in his ears when you state rather than ask, "but you won't be okay if i say 'no', will you?"

"no," the word escapes him, as quiet as a breath the moment the last syllable leaves you—

sucking in a staggering breath, he shakes his head. and repeats, "no. i won't be. i really need you to live at this point, baby. i know you will be thinking how i'm love-bombing you right now, but trust me— i cannot survive without you. i need—"

"— me. yeah, i get it," you interrupt him. as rudely as always, but gojo doesn't find himself offended. too lost in the breathless chuckles tied into your tone. you lean back away from him, an amused glint in your eyes, in your tenor as you hum, "i don't know if this was you flattering me enough to make me cave into your demands... but it's okay. yeah. fine— i'll let you eat me. devour me. or whatever poetic shit you're on about— just don't forget to slice my carotids before you do that, yes?— don't really wanna go through the pain or the mess of being eaten while alive, you see."

[agreeing to be eaten by him is not the same as agreeing to date him.

gojo knows this. tough to believe, but he does. he really, really does—

but who the hell cares.

definitely not him, as he scribbles both of your initials on his mission reports later in the day. a big plus sign linking the two pairs of letters, an even bigger heart encompassing them—

pen stilling over the paper, gojo pauses. and grins.

sure. agreeing to be eaten by him is not the same as agreeing to date him— the former's far more intimate. entails much firmer trust, much greater love—

after marriage, will he take your surname, or will you take his?]

hope this was an enjoyable read! pls don't plagiarise, translate or repost this ❤️❤️

masterlist

[blarshwritezz]

Yandere Ex x Reader

M yan x AFAB reader

TW - general yandere behavior, implied NSFW, somnophilia, drugging, pregnancy/baby trapping, stalking

Things have been...strange since you broke up with your now ex boyfriend. Things in your house were moved, and sometimes cleaner than how you left them. Not only that, you've been feeling sleepier and sleepier. Especially after all your meals. You swear you'd fall asleep at the table only to wake up in your bed...

And worse, for the last month or two, you've been feeling really sick. And not only that, you've missed your last two periods.

So naturally, you went to your doctor in hopes of finding an answer. And well...you certainly found one.

"Pregnant?! But- but that's impossible! I haven't had sex in months!" You haven't exactly been sleeping with many people since your breakup 6 months ago. Well, any people, actually.

"Ma'am, don't you think you're a little old to be acting like this? If you haven't been sexually active, there would be no baby." The doctor talked down to you, as if you didn't know how babies happen.

That night, you laid in bed thinking about how the hell this could have happened. Sure, you randomly woke up some mornings with a sticky mess between your legs, but you thought you'd just had an increase in wet dreams or something.

Your thoughts were interrupted by a sound in your walls. Damn mice. You needed to get rid of them. No matter how many traps you set out, they never seemed to go away.

You sighed and got up. You couldn't sleep. Maybe a snack would help, or a cup of water. Arriving at your kitchen, you opened the fridge. Now what did you want? You actually weren't that hungry.

You spotted a little bottle of water and grabbed it. You just liked the taste a bit better than tap water. You opened it and took a swig, taking it with you back to bed.

Laying back down, covering yourself with the blankets and closing your eyes, you thought about your breakup oddly enough. It was so weird. You told him you never wanted to see or hear from him again, and he just...agreed. He had been acting extra possessive and you couldn't take it. You expected to have to fight tooth and nail to get away from. You thought you must have just gotten lucky as sleep finally took you.

And he stuck to his word, really he did. You hadn't seen him. You couldn't, not from inside your walls. Thanks to the total lack of security cameras in your house, he was able to sneak out whenever he wanted to drug your food and drinks while you weren't looking. You would never notice how he tapped your phone to listen to you wherever you went.

He was elated at the news from today. You had to be his again now that you were having his baby! Maybe soon, he'd come out of hiding and you three would be a happy family! And it'd be a lot easier to give that child siblings. As many as possible, preferably.

Until then, he'd be content with watching you from a distance, only able to get close when you were asleep. And after a few months, he'd be able to start taking proper care of you.

This would have been better if I finished it closer to when I started it lol

[gremlinmodetweeker]

Unexpected Appearances of Softness

Just a silly little drabble about Summoned!König bringing you some things back from home. He's nice, I swear. He's just also a bit out of touch.

Tws: Mentions of your mother having a heart condition

Story below the cut.

Unexpected Appearances of Softness

The dark hallways were pockmarked by shafts of light from the potlights in the ceiling, casting godrays that showered down onto the empty floors. Walking through, doors lined the halls, standing bravely at attention like the summoners that slept behind them. At the farthest end of the hallway, your door sat waiting for you. Open.

As soon as you saw the open door you felt your stomach drop. You wanted to run, but at this hour you risked waking up some irate summoners. Instead, you trained your eyes on the grey linoleum floors as you skirted down towards your open hell. With each footstep, you could feel your bpm rising steadily, your heart drumming in your ears like a marching band as you walked.

When you got to your doorway, you took a moment to settle yourself. Just from the doorway, nothing looked off. Taking a breath, you stepped through the door.

Your room was perfectly intact. Nothing seemed off in the slightest. You checked your washroom, and all your belongings were in place and untouched. Your room was similarly pristine, almost to clinical state. It was bizarre. Did you forget to close your door? No, you locked it when you left. So why was it so clean? In fact, now that you got a better look under the moonlight, it looked cleaner than before. Clothing you’d thrown into drawers had been neatly folded and set inside the cabinet with care. Your shoes were neatly lined up by the front door with military precision you’d never been able to drill into your head. It was eerily perfect in a way that seemed almost unnatural.

You looked around the room again and nearly spat out your drink when you saw your bed. It was perfect. What was disturbing though was the fact that the stuffies you left at home were now sitting at the top of the bed.

You picked up one such stuffy and examined it carefully. Who the hell would bring up these old relics? Who even had the ability to go all the way back home and come back to base, simply for the sole purpose of getting your childhood mementos back to you?

The lights flickered.

Ah.

“König,” you called out to the room behind you, “why did you get my stuffies from back home?”

A heavy scaled hand planted itself firmly on your shoulder as the thin cloth of the being’s dark hood drifted over you.

“Are these not to your standards, Summoner?” König’s pitchy yet guttural voice thrummed through his chest into your back.

You held up the stuffy by its arms.

“Did you see my parents?” you asked, ever so slightly hopeful.

“Your mother is well,” König patted your head, “your father screamed when he saw me.”

You snorted as you put the stuffy down, “You actually let them see you?”

“Their summons demanded that I make myself known,” König explained with a hint of bitterness to his tone, “and, seeing as I am a benevolent being, I simply followed their orders. Apparently, they thought I’d wait until your father had finished his shower.”

You knew you’d be getting a phone call soon for that. You could already hear your father ranting about how you needed to keep your summon under control, already knowing full well that controlling an avatar of chaos was a laughable thought. You wondered what he thought of your summon, considering how renowned your father's name was among the old brass he used to run with.

“Your mother passed out when she saw me,” König continued, “but she came to fairly quickly. Then fainted again. The second time she came back I ensured that she was in a comfortable chair and well cared for, I assure you.”

“You know my mother has a heart condition, right?” you sighed as you put your beloved plush bear back onto the bed.

“Of course I know,” König scoffed, “anyways, we were able to settle our difference once she was able to stay conscious,” König prattled on as he examined his iridescent claws, “she seemed uncomfortable knowing that you’re mated to me for eternity, but she did say that it was better than having your bones torn from your body and keeping your flesh alive.”

You turned to look up at your summon with a blank look. At this point, you were about to develop a heart condition too.

“Please don’t tell me you said that to my mother,” you glared up at your summon with as much ferocity as a wet kitten could muster.

König stared into the distance before he slowly met your eyes.

“I apologize, Summoner.”

You looked at him, then back at the stuffies.

“Why?” you sighed.

“Not all is wrong, Summoner. After she finished her insufferable wailing, she thanked me for not harming you. I’m surprised a human understood her place so well,” König took a half step back, “I will add for your peace of mind, she suggested I bring your stuffed animals to you.”

You paused, then nodded slowly.

“So what were you doing at my place if you weren’t getting my stuffies?” you asked.

“You left your entertainment device underneath your bedding when you last visited.”

You scrunched your face for a moment before understanding opened your features.

“You got my gameboy back?” you asked hopefully.

König simply took the ‘entertainment device’ from a pocket in his robe and passed it to you. You tried to turn it on, but it was out of charge. You supposed beggars can’t be choosers.

“So, my mom told you to bring me my stuffies?” you asked as you set the gameboy on your night table.

“She also asked me to bring you some ‘cookies’,” König held out a bag of smooshed crumbs and molten chocolate, “I forgot how delicate human treats are.”

You took the bag into your own hands and took a close look. If nothing else, you could probably mix this up with some icecream or something. They at the very least seemed to still be edible (a far cry better than the pizza you’d asked König to pick up for you last week, only to be presented a cardboard box full of ashes and embers. König had tried to bring another back, but that had gone even worse). If nothing else, König was learning how to transport baked goods a bit better.

“So, was that everything? You brought my gameboy, some of my stuffies and some cookies from my mom?” you looked up at König.

König sniffed indignantly, “Your superiors did not seem to believe a controlled black hole in your dormitory was an appropriate idol to chaos.”

For once in your life, you thanked the heavens above for the dorm standards.

König furrowed his brows, evidently displeased by the look on your face. You looked back at your gameboy and sat on your bed. You noticed the mattress was a fair bit more comfortable, another sign of König’s intervention. You picked up your stuffed bear again with a smile.

“Thanks König.”

The avatar faltered momentarily before regaining his stoic composure.

“Your comfort is paramount, Summoner,” he replied tersely.

You noticed that he seemed to be unable to meet your eyes, instead focussed on the posters plastered on your walls. You would’ve laughed, but you figured his ego wouldn’t be able to handle a weak summoner such as yourself laughing at him. At least, not out loud.

Your figured he knew, anyways.

AU Masterlist

[thewirewitch]

Forbidden Mtn. Dew

Lord help me, I literally cannot carry cups of muddy water it's going in my mouth.

Literally looks so tasty I can't. It looks like hot chocolate it's going in my mouth. I have no self-control whatsoever

[sins0fthefather]

Wrath.

Jeff the Killer HCs:

General HCs:

Full Name: Jeffrey Alexander Woods (Only responds to Jeff though. Best case scenario if you call him his full name is he’ll ignore you, worst case scenario is him flipping his shit on you)

Age: 22-25 (Based on where in the story a character study/fic takes place)

Birthday: September 22 (Older than Liu by 2 years)

Wasian— Father is Chinese, mother is a born n’ raised Texan

Biromantic, Demisexual

Has autism, C-PTSD, BPD (contributor to his auditory hallucinations), NPD, ASPD, and BDD

Right Handed

6’1 (185~ cm)

Covered in burn scars, most noticeably on his chest, forearms, and back

He uses white facepaint, it makes his face’s silhouette look “cleaner” in his eyes

His cuts have healed up for the most part, although he’ll have moments where he relapses and cuts at them again. The ends will also sometimes tear if he does something like laugh too hard.

Very touchy with other people, but he despises being touched first. He prefers to initiate physical contact- both because of the control aspect of it and because of his general distrust of others.

His sense of humor waxes and wanes from extreme condescension to the most morbid sentences you’ve ever heard. Half of the time it doesn’t even sound like a joke.

Reckless driver, cursed with terrible road rage

Smokes cigarettes, his brand of choice is Marlboro

Drinks vodka straight as if it were water

I feel like his favorite band would be Tool or Slipknot. His music taste is just metal and dad rock.

Was brought up in a Catholic school for most of his life, although he obviously doesn’t keep up with the practice anymore. This is a big catalyst for why he develops a god complex however since he “has authority over life and death”— something unique only to gods from what he was taught.

Very observant of the people around him. He memorizes speech patterns, demeanors, even the way people walk. He’s gotten to the point where he can read people and their intentions well before they’re explicitly stated, making it much easier for him to spot a lie. However this also makes it much easier for him to tell when he’s truly pushing somebody’s buttons, and there’s nothing he loves more than pushing people past their limit.

Always stealing glances of himself in any mirror he walks past

He’s an opportunistic killer. Limiting himself to patterns clashes with the creativity and the thrill of the moment to him. However, there are specific elements of a kill he will often repeat if the mood strikes him. An example of this would be often including strangulation (albeit usually not the direct cause of death) to reflect his acquired need for control in all moments of his life. Sometimes he will also pose bodies in a “prayer” position to call back that god complex I mentioned.

He doesn’t always kill people immediately. If someone catches his eye, usually because he finds them beautiful in some aspect, he’ll take it a step further. He has no problem with being patient when the situation arises for it- stalking the person, learning their habits and schedules, the whole shebang. He’ll then slowly start to ruin said person’s life, isolating them through the slaughter of those closest to them and destroying any sense of peace and security they once had. He’s the sound that goes -bump- in the night. He’ll toy with his food until he eventually grows bored, disposing them like all the rest. After all, how dare someone else try to be beautiful in his presence- a punishment of the highest order is necessary.

His anger can be very… explosive. He doesn’t stick around very long for enough people besides victims to see it, but it can be as unpredictable as his own kills. It’s worse when he’s silent in his anger however, since with the former you at least have enough of a warning to brace yourself.

Backstory-Centric HCs:

(TW: csa, murder, mutilation, religious trauma, general stuff)

Takes place in college. Jeff is 22 at the start while Liu is 20.

Instead of being a one-off instance, Jeff and Liu have been subjected to bullying/borderline harassment since middle school. This builds up Jeff’s gradual distrust of others and leads to him shutting himself off from his peers.

Most of said bullying revolved around their mixed race situation. It only got worse as Jeff shut himself off and Liu became a people pleaser.

The two didn’t even have peace at home, since their parents were sexually abusive and excused it through their religion. It was “all apart of god’s love” as they said. This + the bullying leads Liu to develop DID and kickstarts Jeff’s resentment towards their parents. It also led Jeff to develop a twisted belief on what love and beauty is since god apparently “favored” the beauty of his parent’s form of “love.”

On one particular instance of bullying/harassment, a small group of people he grew up with planned on jumping and mugging Jeff behind a bar. Things escalated when Jeff retaliated in self defense, beating his aggressors with a nearby pipe found laying against a dumpster. He didn’t leave unscathed however, since one of the attackers dropped a lighter into the flammable materials (alcohol, trash, etc) that had been scattered in the fight, planning on making everyone go down in that moment. Jeff managed to survive (albeit with severe burns along his body) after being found by an employee who went to go check out the noise/smell of smoke, but the others succumbed to their wounds.

While in a heavy state of shock and psychosis (paired with being drugged up out the wazoo at the hospital) his usual unchecked auditory hallucinations worsened, leading his mind to trick him into believing this situation was a sign from god- that he was supposed to survive while his tormentors burned. Paired with his already twisted concepts of love and beauty, he began to believe that his burns were part of god’s plan to make him more beautiful- because he was favored.

This only gets worse when he’s released from the hospital’s custody due to a neglect in checking his mental state. After being sent home with his family and therefore being thrown back into the abusive environment he hoped to escape when going to college he ends up experiencing a psychotic break, mutilating himself in the process.

When his parents catch him, they attack him. In their eyes he had disgraced them, no longer upholding the ��beauty” of heaven that they enforced. He ends up killing them in self defense, but furthers it by mutilating their bodies in an act of defiance induced by his break. He believes he’s outdone god in this moment, deluding himself into thinking he’s on the same level (or even better) than god.

While overcome by his psychotic break, he ends up severely wounding Liu after he wakes up to check out the noise. It becomes a conspiracy on if Liu survived or not since his body was never found by authorities.

The reason why Jeff continues on his spree after these instances is the feel of control he gets. After being forced into submission by those around him for so long, he finally feels a stable sense of power over those he deems as less than him.

He ends up wandering throughout the states after this, hopping from town to town. He never stays in one place for long, although sometimes he’ll revisit his home town to give the urban legend fanatics something to fear again.

[kkcauseway]

Caring Hand

Summary: You're going on a trip with Joel, which means driving to the destination and it’s hours away… to make matters worse your morning sickness is at its worst. So Joel does his best to look after you. Content and warnings: TW: vomiting -morning sickness. So much fluff. Talks of pregnancy, protective!Joel, caring!Joel. No use of y/n, no outbreak. Word count: 1.8k

Caring husband Joel Miller x F!reader

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You and Joel are travelling to a lodge you have booked for the next week. Your first proper time away in months. Joel booked it as a surprise after your promotion, he’s so thoughtful and compassionate like that.

However, you’ve not been feeling good all morning, morning sickness is at its worst again, this pregnancy so far really hasn’t been kind to you. You’ve been throwing up throughout the day for the past week straight, and the temperature outside reaching record highs means there’s no helping you to feel even slightly better. The heat makes you sicker.

This trip has been planned for months, obviously not with pregnancy in mind. (Not that you’d change it for the world.) But even with you feeling so ill, hardly able to keep food down, you’re not about to let that ruin your trip. It’s very much needed, and you do think it will help to make you feel better. The air’s cleaner where you’re going. It will be nice to breathe in really fresh air, and there’s a lake, god you could just about strip naked and jump in there right this second. You’ve been on the road about an hour when you begin to feel really sick and hot, you’re feeling the heat a lot more than usual today. Having already stripped down as much as is possible there’s not much else you can do. Wearing the bare minimum before it would be classed as ‘indecent exposure’ or more to the point where Joel would get too excited by the sight that he would absolutely ‘need’ to have his way with you. Although he knows better than to joke with you right now.

Keeping your eyes closed and trying to keep your breathing calm is about all you can do to try to relax; Joel can tell you really don’t feel well though. He’s got to learn when you get bad because you aren’t always vocal about it, not wanting to worry him, although he begs you to ‘worry him’, so he can share the burden and try his best to make it better.

“You want some more water baby?” he asks sincerely.

“Please” you say wiping your forehead, not even thinking about the fact Joel’s driving and it means he’s reaching into the back to get it for you whilst he’s supposed to be watching the road.

With thanks you take the bottle from him. Taking a large, heavenly swig. The water isn’t warm yet thankfully, but you know it won’t be long till it is, so you savour every second of the ice-cold water as it makes its way down. That definitely helps. You opt to roll the bottle on either side of your neck before doing the same to your cheeks. It feels amazing and you can’t help the little satisfied moan that falls from your lips.

Joel smirks as he shakes his head at you. You lightly laugh back at him through the discomfort beginning to feel better then. Finding it easier to enjoy the trip, even finding the energy to sing along to certain songs.

But then it suddenly hits you again and you go quiet. As expected, the heat has turned the water almost hot, and it’s not at all satisfying to drink. But you grin and bear it to keep yourself hydrated, breathing through the sick feeling. Not allowing anything to put a dampener on the start of your trip.

☀️☀️☀️☀️

You need air, proper air not just the air-con blowing in your face and soon, you need out of the car to fully breathe. “Babe, can we stop at the next services please? I really need to get out for a bit.”

Joel looks to you briefly “Sure, we can, you really not feeling good still?”

“No, I’m not. This baby’s really playing me up” you sink into your seat, rubbing a palm over your stomach, hoping to alleviate the feeling.

“Okay baby” he sighs deeply, hating seeing you in this much discomfort without being able to do anything to help. “The next services aren’t too far out we can stop have something to eat too if you’re up for it?”

“Let’s see how we go” you let out a heavy breath. The thought of eating food physically repulsing you.

Joel has the aircon blasting in your face, and it’s by far the best thing ever, but it’s not enough. You try your best to focus on the cool air coming at you and for a short time it does the job, but then you hit traffic. And you go from speeding away to 10mph if you’re lucky.

“Fuck Joel, you need to pull over as soon as you can, I can’t wait till we get to the services. Fuck, I need to get out. Feel like I can’t breathe” you huff.

“Okay darlin’ I promise soon as I can I’ll pull over, so you can get some air okay. Promise baby, don’t panic okay?” Joel’s worried, it takes a lot for you to moan about feeling unwell.

“I feel so sick” you whimper sounding so small.

“I know baby m’sorry, hopefully won’t be long and you’ll start feelin’ better. I know y’hate feelin’ like this.”

“I do, I hate it so much” you utter sounding so deflated.

As the car begins slowly moving once more, you feel heat rise from your feet to your face and you’re overcome with this nasty unbearably hot feeling. And then before you can say or do anything you throw up all over yourself, a choke like cough following afterwards. It genuinely came from nowhere you didn’t feel it rise; it just came out. There was no way to prevent it from getting all over you and the car seat.

Joel looks over at you and uses his hand closest to you to hold your hair out of your face “you’re okay baby just breathe” his other hand quickly grabs a plastic bag from his car door storage.

As you breathe incredibly heavy you take the bag from him, “just in case” he whispers before he puts that hand back on the wheel. You’re so uncomfortable as vomit slowly seeps into your shorts and a smell of stomach acid fills the air.

“Fuck. I’m so sorry Joel, it just, just came out” you pant, eyes stinging, and heart racing.

He’s indicating now to a point on the road he can pull over in. “Honey don’t be sorry y’couldn’t help it” he’s still holding the hair out of your face, but you thankfully haven’t been sick since.

When he parks safely, he quickly jumps out of the car, goes into the boot to retrieve some tissues and wipes before he comes around to your side opening your car door.

“I’m so sorry you feel this shit baby” he utters beginning to clean away the sick from your lap, using the currently unsoiled bag he gave you to discard the tissues in.

As much as you feel like shit, you still can’t believe how much he’s helping you, especially considering you’ve just thrown up in his car, all over his seat. He didn’t even think about it before jumping into action, not showing any signs of repulsion.

When it’s okay for you to get out of the car, you slowly jump down using Joel’s hand to steady you. He quickly cleans the seat as you take a wipe and start to clean your hands and arms. Once finished Joel doesn’t even hesitate to get onto his knees to clean off your shorts and legs properly. He can see your breathing is still very uneven and you look on the verge of tears. “Shhh, you’re okay baby” he reassures softly as he uses delicate strokes with the wipe.

“I’m sorry I really didn’t mean it.” You try to hold the tears back, but to no avail.

“Hey, you don’t need to be sorry baby, s’okay” he reassures whilst continuing to clean your shorts.

“I’m so embarrassed. I'm so disgusting.”

He stands up then, finally done with cleaning your lower half and you’ve finished cleaning your top half. Joel looks into your eyes “baby you’re living through all of this so you can bring our baby into the world, trust me, watching you embrace all the shit this pregnancy is throwing at you. S’sexy regardless of what happens okay? Not disgusting”. You stay silent, hanging your head low in shame. “Hey” he grabs your chin gently, so you have no choice but to look up at him. “I mean it; would I ever say anything I didn’t mean?”

“No” you whisper before sniffling.

“No, I wouldn’t, so stop feeling embarrassed, I’ll always adore you no matter what”. He strokes your cheek, and you lean into his palm as he does so.

“I love you Joel, I really do” you say through your slowing whimpers.

“I love you too baby. How y’feelin’ now?”

“Sick again, which is just perfect.”

“Well, there’s no rush for us to get back onto the road Baby we can stay here as long as y’need us to.”

He puts his arm around you then, stroking at your back.

“You’re so good to me Miller, I do honestly love you so much.” You turn into his side placing an arm either side of his body before squeezing him to prove your affection. He continues his stroking whilst leaning so his lips rest on the top of your head speaking loud into your hair as he replies, “I love you so much too, and this lil baby of ours, even if they’re just a teeny tiny dot right now.” He kisses the top of your head, and you stay stood in that embrace for a little while.

☀️☀️☀️☀️

“Not to ruin the moment, but I’m definitely gonna be sick again.”

You bring a hand to your mouth, and you move away from him slightly then, but he runs after you to hold your hair back. Rubbing your back as you throw up once more.

“Fuck baby m’so sorry you feel like this” he says to you between your bouts of retching. “S’it you get it all out”.

Eventually you spit for one final time and stand up straight again then, Joel pulls out a tissue from his pocket and you wipe your mouth “ugh I hate this”, Joel looks at you sympathetically before passing you some gum, which you’re eternally grateful for. “I hate it so fucking much” you say between chews “but, it’s all worth it for her” you rest a hand on your still flat stomach.

“Her?” he questions.

“Just a feeling that’s all.”

He smiles at you then and you smile back. “My girls” he utters softly through a wide grin placing his palm above yours.

How does he manage to make you feel so good even in your worst moments?

With the sickness feeling finally completely gone (at least for today- you hope) you can get back on the road. A week away full of fun, food, sex, and sun. God you’ve been longing for this for months. Just you and Joel. Though it means even more now than it did before. You’re soaking up all the time you have left before you lives are forever changed.

Changed for the better…

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[pokemon117]

To anyone who takes requests I got another idea. Please tag me if you do it.

Alastor x assistant reader

TW: drinking

They were alastors assistant before and after hell.

 As long as alastor knew them, they always refused a drink, even wine or champagne they have always refused. So today out of boredom and with the help of husker and a pull of his chain alastor finally get to see what kind of drunk they are. Then they started talking, and talking, and talking, and they wouldn't shut up. Alastor was going to stop them until their past came up, how they broke alastor's favorite stapler, and never told him. He knew. He was going to see how long they lied until he forgot about it. How they threw out one of his bow ties that looked awful on him, and said the dry cleaners destroyed it. He didn't know that one. At one point Y/N was going to say the nickname alastor mother gave him in front of husk, but he quickly stopped them and started walking them to their room. Before they said too much. On the way Y/N mentioned a promise they made to alastor’s mom. Alastor’s mom made Y/N promise to take care of him and to make sure he is o.k, even though how stubborn and prideful he can be, to please look after him.

[nocturnesmoon]

Chapter 3: Ghosts Of The Past

(Series Masterlist: Divine Violence) (Read on Ao3) (Inspired Playlist)

Series:The Divine Violence - Chapter 3: Ghosts Of The Past

Wordcount: 5.5K

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x John "Soap" MacTavish x Gn!Reader

TW: (View masterlist for series tw and tags) - DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, Religious Trauma, PTSD, Flashbacks, Hallucinations, Anxiety, Paranoia, Disturbing themes, Implied eating disorders, Jealousy, Past abuse, Underage drinking, vomiting

Description: Soap approaches you to eat lunch with him, you begrudgingly accept.

A/N: Wooo another chapter done! Finally getting into some of the angsty bits that's gonna be a gateway to things we're going to expand upon later in the story. Everybody stay hydrated and I hope you enjoy it!

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The night is young and beautiful. Stars would cover the sky above you if it wasn't from the pollution of the city lights. You can still count a few, one, two, three, even four. They're bright here, one even seems to be blinking at you before you realize it's a plane.

It feels almost too ceremonial with the full moon in the sky, and Simon standing by the little makeshift fire in the pile of trash. It reminds you a little of your confirmation, years past by now. Though the church was a lot cleaner, the people like minded. Clothing of white making you shine in the sun, your proud mother with her uptight smile, and your father who had never before seemed proud of anything you did, now smiled warm toned at you.

You can still remember each word the priest spoke to you. Etched so deep in your brain it might as well have been carved into the back of your palm.

Thinking back to it, you realize it's different to this, so much different. The grittiness has a charm to it, but the real reason your nerves have skyrocketed is because of him. You take a step closer to the fire, watch him pop open the bottle of vodka. The one he had stolen from his father’s cabinet. Easier now that he wasn't home as much.

"Nervous?"

He grins at you, grabbing your fidgeting hand in his own. "We can still leave it be?" he offers kindly, but you quickly shake your head no. You had asked for this, you wanted to try it, because you knew the closest way you'd ever come to alcohol otherwise was the wine (Which wasn't even wine, it was grape juice) at the communion in church.

Simon had so graciously offered when you mentioned your want in passing. The curious nature in your soul wanting to try it at least once, even if you turned out to dislike it. You squeeze his hand, as if to jitter out your nerves. Being this far from home never felt good to you, a festering anxiety in your mind that your parents would find out and punish you.

There was a lot of things Simon could help you with, even take the fall for you should the situation call for it, but not this. No, this would be on you, and it would not feel good.

The fire crackles in front of you, something sharp snaps and brings your focus away from the bottle. You had no clue what was burning in there, but it provided a warm place for you to be so you didn't have much to complain about.

"Whenever you're ready Little Spider," he teases and brings the bottle to your hand.

You scoff and roll your eyes. "Does it really burn that bad?" you take the bottle with a small grimace. Your eyes nervously flicking from the liquid to him and back again.

"You seem very determined that this is what you want to do, so why don't you take a sip and find out?"

Another moments hesitance, and you bring the bottle to your lips. In the first second it doesn't burn, just so that the little thought of relief can enter your brain, before being squashed by the lit fire in your throat.

He quickly grabs the bottle away from you, when you start coughing and spurting. The sounds of your distress drowned out by his roaring laughter. His hand comes to pat you on the back, his eyes almost filled with tears from his laughter.

"Oh my oh my oh my, why why why did I do this."

"Oh c'mon, it wasn't that bad, was it?" he looks down at the bottle experimentally. Acting as if he hadn't tasted it countless times before. He brings it to his lips when your outburst calms down, taking a sip seamlessly, taking the burn proud and easy.

"How in the world," you sound astonished by his display. He tries to keep a straight face, but fails very quickly when he sees how you look at him like he's crazy. "Hey don't laugh!" you swat his arm, but soon fall into the laughter along with him.

The fire illuminates his face, casting shadows of you both behind on the wall. The soft orange glow makes some of his features stand out more than normal. His little scars close to his mouth that's normally almost invisible, now almost makes him look scary if it wasn't for how his face was lit up with joy.

"Oh wow," you grab the bottle back to read the inscription as if that would give you more clarity. "I don't understand how people drink stuff like this daily...I mean it's not that good."

His smile falls a little, his breathing catching up from the fit of laughter. "Well, drink enough of it and you'll start to feel funny," he explains simply instead of doing in-depth.

"Huh..." you look at the little alcohol percentage on the bottle, "have you been drunk before?"

He doesn't respond immediately, almost as if he seems ashamed of it. "A few times," he admits and trails closer to the wall, "with a few other guys from school." He leans on it, crossing his arms over his chest. It makes him look edgy, his dark attire and the illumination of a dumpster fire. He looks older than he is like that.

You come closer, tilting your head to the side slightly. He looks at you tentatively, taking in all that is you, the way you look, the way you move, the way you position yourself in front of him, so very close.

"What else have you done?" you ask in a knowing tone that didn't know much at all, "that you haven't had the heart to tell me about yet?" His eyes widen slightly panicked for a moment. You already know how he's compiling an excuse in his brain, or some way to explain himself away from anger, but you aren't angry.

"I just didn't think it was your thing...didn't want to bother you with it...make you feel like you had to," he explains quickly. You shake your head, making sure to give him a small smile as reassurance. His shoulders sag more.

"It wasn't..." you tell him, “But now I’m curious."

"Are you now?" his voice turns back to teasing. How you'd love to smear that smug smile off him, one way or another.

You bring the bottle to your lips, drinking way more than you probably should.

"Yeah, so let's find out."

Your throat burns whenever you throw up. It's become a much more frequent occurrence. The stress of your problems taking wear on your mind. You're no more surprised to find a singular grey hair protrude from your scalp, than you are from the blood mixed with bile in the sink.

That had been your breakfast most likely. The only meal you had found yourself able to sneak away to eat in peace of your assigned room. It left your stomach empty again, the pained hollow feeling you despised despite how much of your life was spent in it.

You'd take anything over this. Oh, how you wished you could be like anyone else, the majority of the reasons to throw up being a hangover, or being sick. Though alcohol hasn't touched your lips in years.

The fluorescent lights blink above you, the little buzzing drowned out by your heavy breathing. The space is better than what you've had the past while, but you did miss the privacy of the motel. People had a tendency to stare here.

You turn on the water, guiding it along with your hands to wash away the bile. Blood trickles down from your knuckles, the split ends of flesh flaking off the bone. You can see the white underneath. The sound of the door opening brings your attention away from it. You avoid the mirror despite its desperate pleas.

No what you can't just leave me here! Please you can't be serious! You're just going to let him keep me in here?! Please just look at me, don't go.

You look towards the mohawk showing itself first.

When you first met Soap, you had been taken aback. He had a very intense personality, a fire within that outshined in his actions. You have yet to determine your own disposition on him. He's friendly enough towards you, all things considered.

"Ah there ye are." He's been standing outside that door for who knows how long. He likely heard the wretched sound as your stomach gave in on itself. Why he chose now to step in, eludes you.

You clear your throat, the hunch in your back stretching out after you turn off the running water. Your fingers run over your knuckles; the wounds gone. "Do you need something?" keeping your voice steady and polite proves a more difficult task than you'd like it to.

"Have ye had lunch yet...?" he's being careful with you. It's a revelation you didn't expect to have for him, did he figure something out he shouldn't have? Does he know?

"Ah was gonna invite ye to join us this mornin' for breakfast, but ah couldn't find ye." Good that had been the intention. A part of you did recognize you couldn't hole yourself away forever though. You were already the odd one out in the group of four.

"Oh.."

Your voice is too weak

The mirror echoes.

"Right...I..."

You clear your throat again, it feels too constricted, the air in here is not enough for you.

You catch yourself in his vibrant blue eyes. You could see an ocean in them, the beautiful waves at sea, the smell of salt in the air. You can feel the surgent winds ghosting over your skin, the sting and burn as water enters your lungs, a warm hand on the back of your neck holding you down. A faraway chanting of prayer echoes muffled in your ears.

"No...I haven't" you try to muster a smile.

"Good," he says pleased "ye're with me then."

The sea is faraway.

The mess hall is the exact kind of hell you expected it to be. Loud, obnoxious, filled with potential social threats and unnecessary questions on the verge from the man sitting in front of you. The only bit of luck you seem to have kept, shows itself in the lack of soldiers here at all. Most of them had likely already eaten.

The meal Infront of you looked anything but appetizing. Yet Soap seemed all the more happy to devour it with no complaints. He's been talking your head off ever since you sat down, clueing you in on things at base. Most of it is useful information you manage to retain, but after awhile your ears goes deaf despite how much you want to listen.

Though you have to admit that it sounds like they're a tight knit group. The 141 formed quite awhile ago, managing to take out several high-level threats. It made sense to put them up against the divine principle, but you couldn't help the doubt in your mind that anything would come of it. Even if you managed to take the group down once more, they would just resurface years later until you took out the root of the problem.

You had failed to do it once.

"...are ye listening?"

Your eyes flicker up from your murky food, locking eyes with Soap. What the hell kind of name was that anyway. Was he good at cleaning dishes? A lot of code names tend to be teasing or insults, so maybe he got teased for it?

"Yeah," you reassure him by briefly giving him your undivided attention. You'd quickly trail out again.

"Ye can tell me to shut up, ah know ah talk a lot" he doesn't sound ashamed of it, but you can hear the hint of self deprecation. Someone's definitely shamed him in the past. You had no intention to do so, you quite preferred people who talk a lot. They talk fast, easy, and typically give way more information than they should which paints you a better picture. A bonus point that it fills out the silence you bring.

"No... it’s nice," you mutter and pick up your fork. You might as well try to fight some of it down, you hadn't even touched any of it yet, and Soap was practically done even with his rambling.

You didn't know whether the lack of people in a typically populated space made you more or less anxious.

"So, ye used to hunt these people a few years ago?"

You meet his eyes for the first time in what feels like forever. You're not sure what you were supposed to find in them, but definitely not the curiosity that shines. This entire taskforce is playing with a hellfire they do not understand. It's practically impossible to take it down, even from within, lord knows you've tried.

"Yeah."

You could bite your lip bloody trying to think of ways to continue the conversation from here. He goes wildly quiet for you. Is he expecting for you to elaborate? What does he even want you to say? What were you allowed to say? What did they know? How much information is appropriate over a lunch in a very public area?

You were starting to regret your decision of agreeing to all of this. You hadn't even started and the stress was pulling you down under.

"They're hard to find, even with a full team" he shakes his head amused, "ah can't even imagine what it must've been like hunting them practically all alone."

"I wasn't alone."

He seems surprised. Good.

Kate hadn't told them every detail.

"They were tenacious then; I don't doubt the group wont behave much different this time around. They always end up with the same values, the same goal." You ramble on, catching yourself by biting your tongue.

"What's the goal?" he asks.

"Doomsday preppers in a nutshell, just add a slimy layer of misguided religion on top of it." You finally take a big bite of your food. It slides down your throat slowly, the dryness, or size catching you off-guard.

Soap slides your glass closer to you. "Not new, but also not every day ye see it to this large of an extent."

"It's been organized for years now, they're not likely to stop from a threat from the authorities. Only way is to take out the roots." You mumble on after getting your throat cleared. There were quite a few ways to go about doing that, all of them left an acidic taste in your mouth.

You could see the way he wanted to ask more. He should refrain, wait for it all to be revealed in proper time instead of probing you for information in an informal interrogation. A quite nice one at that.

You had yet to decide on how close you wanted to get to him.

John MacTavish, Soap.

He was a sergeant, chatty nature, one for jokes, witty, smart. A person worthy to note, despite rebellious appearances.

The captain had yet to earn your respect, and likewise yours his. He was impressive on all accounts. He would also be the first person to throw you off this mission at a sign of weakness. Valuable in its own right.

Kyle was indifferent towards you, a bit cold perhaps, though he seemed a gentleman when it came down to it.

Ghost was......Simon.

You didn't know what you expected when you met Simon again. He's a lot more different than you thought he would be. Taking on the persona of Ghost, you suppose you can't blame him for needing an escape, but the motif still stirs something awful in your chest. Neither of you really got over it.

Maybe you'd have preferred it if he wasn't so aloof with you, a bit more direct in your long-awaited reunion. Perhaps it would have been better if it had mimicked TV, the rain and yelling and screaming in a scenic location to make it more meaningful to you. Unfortunately, reality tends to be far more boring.

"So did he always wear that mask?"

"Ghost? Aye, as long as I've known the bastard," he chuckles "can ask Price about before that, he's known 'im the longest."

There's a pang in your heart, something that feels an awful lot like a drop jealousy, but you can't allow that. It wouldn't be one bit fair. If you were the one to walk away from him then, were you really allowed to feel anything at all for him? Certainly not jealousy over the new relationships he'd build. You should be happy, you really should.

But how dare he abandon you so fast.

You shake your head free of the feeling. Wrongful, wishful, thinking wouldn't change the truth nor the fact he was supposedly better off here.

"Known him long?"

"Ever since we got assigned on this taskforce, give or take a few years now. And Ye?"

"Old acquaintances."

There's another sting in your heart that burns something fierce. All the nights you had spent wishing you were still in contact with him coming back to you. Times when it felt like a single word from him would make life worth living again. A single glance from him could make it worth anything.

You tried to ignore that bit.

But the mask had a symbolism you didn't like any better. You'd only be arrogant to think or claim that you still knew him and his thoughts, but it was still distasteful. Had he forgotten? You had both ran from it, difference was he now wore it on his face and you watched it creep in the shadows.

You had always hated the cold streaks in first signs of winter. When the temperature went freezing, the trees losing their colour, the sun hiding more often now behind threatening clouds. However still no snow. All the unfortunate parts with none of the benefits.

And standing on Simon's freezing front porch didn't help. He was taking too long. It had been half a minute since you rung the doorbell. Where the hell was he? His parents were supposed to be out, and despite his little brother still being home, the two of you would take any opportunity you could take.

You wrap your jacket closer around you. The biting frost nipping at your cheeks and nose. For a moment you debate whether you should ring the bell again, but you remember his words clear, he had told you to just go in, even if it felt wrong to do that without a formal invitation straight from the door.

You hadn't been here too many times. Some part of yourself too scared that the smell of smoke would sting your clothes, and that your parents would know exactly where you had been. You needed to be careful, one wrong decision and they'd forbid you from seeing him again.

You aren't sure if you could handle that.

The door creeks when you open it, too loud for your taste. It makes you grimace. You try calling out for him, to no response. There's a smell of freshly baked bread, likely at the hands of his mum.

A smile tugs on your lips, your stomach twisting hungrily in your body. Hurriedly you kick off your shoes, and hang up your jacket, emerging in the home's living room. For a moment you wonder if anyone is even home, it feels cold from the lack of interaction.

"Simon?" it's not like him to leave you alone like that. Was he even home?

You tiptoe towards the hallway peeking down the dark way. When you stare too long, the shadows move occasionally, takes shape like moving smoke. Another time you softly call his name, slowly coming up to Simon's and his brother’s bedroom.

It's cracked open very slightly, the shine of light coming from the slit. It illuminates the dying flowers placed neatly on a bookshelf. You move to open the door, but before you can get there, you feel a tap on your shoulder.

The hairs on the back of your neck rise, the subtle warm breath from someone else hitting your skin. It felt wrong, and in the back of your mind you knew who it was, what he was doing. You whipped around, the fear having already seeped into your eyes. You were ready to shield yourself, stare into the tall figure that looked like the personification of death.

The scream that erupted from your lungs, weren't only of fear but also from genuine shock. The figure wasn't tall like you had expected, instead you had to glance downwards to meet the eyes behind a white skull mask. You stumble backwards, crashing your body against the door and falling all the way down to the floor.

The boy stands above you, a fit of psychotic little giggles come from him which make your stomach churn with disgust. He holds a butterknife in his hand. It's the only reason you haven't gotten up yet as you stare at his display, trying to mimic his father.

"Tommy what are you doing!" you shout out offended. You hope it covers the tinge of fear you carry. In no universe should Simon's little brother look like this, in no world should he be able to scare you this badly.

The antsy sensation isn't just from the initial surprise, it swirls in your blood at the sight of a raised knife. It doesn't matter that it isn't sharp, it doesn't even matter that it's not directly pointed at you.

It makes you remember. The late nights, the early mornings, the fights that took place within your own home. The list of threats you'd heard, you could recite them as clear as your favourite quote from your favourite book.

"Tommy...put down the knife." You don't hear the tremble in your voice but he does. He tilts his head; a line of light falls over the skull mask. His eyes are illuminated beneath it, they carry nothing but distaste for you.

He's never liked you. You were fine with that, but this is just too far. Where was Simon anyway!? If Tommy was home then he should be as well, maybe even his mother if anything at all.

Like a saving grace, an angel sent from the heavens, you hear his uncertain voice call out shakily.

"Tommy what are you doing, give that to me."

Simon pulls you even closer to his form, your legs shift from how you're sitting halfway into his lap. He had practically forced you this close when you started to complain about the cold. Not that you minded the proximity itself.

"Are you sure we can't just lock a room, so he won't disturb us?" You nuzzle closer into his side. A big breath exits your lungs, it rises upwards like a little cloud. His arm pulls your jacket closer around, his hand settling on your waist to give you a little squeeze.

"We're fine here," he mumbles into your hair "got you all to myself."

"I know," you say exasperated "it's just why would he do that...it's not...its..."

You don't know how to formulate your words right. It's hard to explain exactly what you saw from your perspective on the floor. A terrifying display you never want to see on Tommy's innocent face again. That look was reserved for his father, not that you were any happier seeing it on him either.

"He's been acting up...mood swings and all that" Simon sighs and shakes his head. "He's done it to me too a few times when mom and dad are fighting...I... don’t understand it. Even when dad brought that snake in, he was all giddy...I don't think he really understands," Simon confesses.

"Wait, what snake?!" you manage to pull yourself away from his arms. You stay close in his hold to keep sharing body heat, but you raise yourself on your knees so you're looking down at his face. "Your dad brought a snake into your home, to you, and he just laughed?" you sounded pissed off, and rightfully so you were. He'd never told you this before now.

"Yeah, were years ago now but..." he raises a hand, his thumb brushing over to dull marks above his lips "it bit me."

Your eyebrows furrow and you have to hold yourself back from not yelling out in frustration. You bite down on your own lip hard, and reach a hand up to gently run your fingers over the two scars in the form of dots. He closes his eyes as he feels your skin on his, let's out a shuddering breath. He always gets like this now at your touch, he always seems so affected, always positively.

In the beginning you thought it was just hormones, puberty for him now that you're both well into your teenage years. A round of "Boys will be boys," as your mother would keep saying whenever you told her how you saw the boys at school pick on the girls in the most horrendous ways.

Simon's a boy but you've never seen him be that cruel. And then you started to think it might just be you he's like this with, that to anyone else, any other girl or boy that gets close never gets to see him have this kind of reaction.

He opens his eyes and your breath catches in your throat with an ugly little sound. It makes you snort, giggling into your hand as you listen to his rumble of a chuckle. His arms snake around your waist, bring you in closer, pressing your bodies up against each other as much as can be.

He looks up at you like you're the only person in the world.

Like you're everything to him, as if you were to go his world would collapse around him. And you know it's true because you feel the same way. If he were to ever leave, you wouldn't know how to function, you wouldn't have an escape from the abuse, a person to keep you afloat when you're drowning.

You lean down a little to place a soft peck just above his lips, on the dotted scars.

You're not sure what true love is, but if you'll ever have a chance at it, it has to be this. There can be no other explanation for that glint in his eye reserved only for you.

He looks at you with pure love.

Soap looks at you expectantly. The dull sounds of the mess hall fill your ears again, you didn't even realize you zoned out. You only pray it wasn't for an unusually long time.

"We knew each other way back, before he joined the military I think." You try your best to play it off as not a big deal. As if you hadn't been in deep with him once upon an easier time. You doubted Simon would want to bring more attention to it than necessary when it came to his teammates.

"Before? Woah, can finally say ah know someone who knew the legendary ghost before he became ghost." He sounds pleased with himself. You don't understand the difference.

Like speaking of the devil himself, the tall dark figure with a mask you wanted to rip off him, emerged into the hall. It didn't turn many heads, but the way you whipped your head dramatically brought Soap's attention to him as well.

"Well...speak of the devil..." he mumbled. You could hear the smile on his lips without looking.

It's a bit late to come in for lunch, but when you think about it you didn't see him go eat with the others, while you were actively avoiding them. He would always retreat into his own room or office, like you would do.

Both you and Soap watches as he goes up to select what his lunch will be. Occasionally you glance towards Soap, observing his interest in Simon, you try to gouge at their relationship. They'd likely be good friends, having a soldier camaraderie for years now. It made you wonder if Soap would now qualify as one to know more about the boy you used to be so close with, than you do yourself.

You look back to Simon, trying to get a proper glimpse of his mask again. You have to bite back an annoyed groan when they flood your vision again.

The shadows encompass his mask all around. They block out the once dirty white with a coal black. It moves around like a mass, obscuring his face, his head taking on spiky ends, then blocky, then smooth. It makes him look like the creatures in the mirrors, the only thing left being the uncanny clear view of his eyes.

They're so visible to you that they freak you out more than the moving shadows, looking straight out of an uncomfortable picture you'd find on the internet. When he finally picks up his food and turns to your direction, your breath catches in your throat with an ugly little sound.

Soap looks at you concerned, but you wave him off quickly taking a big gulp of your water.

You look back to see exactly what you thought it was. You'd recognize that look on him anywhere from just his eyes. People say eyes are the windows to someone's soul, you don't know if you believe it for everyone else or even yourself, your eyes look so dull in the mirror, but for Simon it's the truest statement you've heard.

Despite the time apart, that look is burned into your retinas. It's been an image you clung to over the years, you last remnant of him, something to remind you of what you once had.

And he's looking towards you, like he used to do.

He's looking towards you with an expression you haven't seen in person in years.

He's looking towards you with a look of love you'd never think you'd see on his face again.

He's looking towards you with such devotion that someone like you doesn't deserve from someone like him.

You realize it too late. You glance away from Simon and look to the man sitting in front of you

He looks at you with pure love.

He's not looking at you.

Are you seriously jealous over a man you haven't seen in years?

You know it's pathetic. You know it's nonsensical. You know you shouldn't.

Yet you pace back and forth in your room, the shadows louder than they've ever been in months. They corner you in on every side, lunge out at you when you get too close to the walls. Their thousand little voices overlap in a chorus of insults.

Vile, pathetic, weak, useless, killer.

Your hands raise up to cover your ears but it does nothing to dampen the intensity. Your clothes feel too tight on your body, the air too humid, a certain place in the room burning hot with agony and shame. The little space under your bed. The bag with the letters that once brought you comfort.

They burn hot even from a distance. A rush of hot and cold going through your bloodstream. Ice beneath your skin one moment and boiling blood the next.

Did he ever even look at you like that? Wasn't it different back then? He had the dumb puppy love for you none of that was real.

"Shut up," your voices breaks in your throat and comes out a meek whisper.

Just take a look at those pathetic letters.

"No..."

Each one of them so much later than the next. Spaced out perfectly to leave you in the dark, first a week then two then a month then two months then...

"Shut it!" you shout out with the animalistic ferocity you've been taught. The shadows retract slightly, giving you more room to breathe. Normally you try to ignore the voices that go through your head, you've found answering them only encourage their absurd bait. They could taunt you all they wanted. Voices instilled by vile men in your life, repeated over and over and over and over and over.

Until they manifested themselves within your skull and refused to leave.

In a way you know the things you are seeing aren't real, but it feels so solid. All of it just your fragmented mind trying to make sense of what you were forced to see. None of it could be real.

Sometimes you think that you could actually reach out and touch them, but anytime you've tried they just retract further away from you. You've always hated how it swims in your vision, distracts you from what's actually important.

You look towards the bed, under it, the bag, the letters that almost flood out of it from where you've thrown it. They call to you, scream at you so silently. Your legs are sluggish like walking through water as they carry you there. Your fingers touching what feels like knives as you pull out the nearest letter.

The little piece of paper he left on your bed before he left for the military.

To my love, my dear little spider

You read quietly, the whisper barely even audible on your lips.

I'm sorry that I have to go. Don't fall apart without me, okay?

See you soon, your Simon

Likes, Reblogs and comments are always appreciated, love ya! <3

Taglist: @chickennn-soupp @unlikelyaperson @ghostlythots @lilynotdilly @islnd-vybz @spicyspicyliving @kaoyamamegami

[vigilante-3073]

Figure You Out

Dean Winchester x Female Reader

John Winchester x Female Reader (Platonic)

PART 2

Summary: A glimpse into Y/N's past and how she learned about the existence of the supernatural.

TW: Mentions of violence and death, implied smut.

Dean walked out of the motel room he was sharing with his brother, slamming the door behind himself as a final display of his anger. He shook his head, walking across the cracked pavement of the parking lot towards the Impala. Dean got in, starting the car and pulling out of the lot with no particular destination in mind.

He knew that this argument didn't need to blow up like it had and he needed some time away to cool off. Dean drove around for a bit before he pulled into the crowded parking lot of a bar. He parked the Impala and went inside, desperately needing a drink to settle himself down.

Dean looked around the crowded room before his eyes settled on a familiar figure at the bar. Dean made his way over to her, "I guess Sam and I should just hit the road if you're in town, huh?" Dean questioned.

Y/N smiled, "Nice to see you too, Dean," She said.

"Mind if I join you?" He asked, tilting his head towards the empty barstool beside her.

"Go for it," Y/N said.

Dean sat down on the stool beside her, "What are you drinkin', sweetheart?" He asked, nodding to her almost empty glass.

"Whiskey," Y/N replied.

"Two more and make them doubles, please," Dean said to bartender. The man nodded, moving off to prepare their drinks.

"Doubles, huh? Rough night?" Y/N questioned.

"You have no idea," Dean huffed.

The bartender set two more glasses of whiskey on the bartop. Dean passed the man a few bills, "Keep the change," He said. The man nodded and moved away to the register.

"You fighting with Sam?" Y/N asked, taking a sip from her glass.

"Yeah," Dean said.

"Looking to talk or drink?" She asked.

"Drink," He stated, taking a large gulp from his own glass.

"I can work with that," Y/N nodded.

The pair spent hours sitting at the bar and drinking in silence. Dean looked over at her as she flagged down the bartender for another round. He prepared them quickly, setting their drinks on the bartop and accepting the bill that Y/N held out between manicured fingers.

"Keep the change, honey," She said dismissively, sliding her glass closer to herself.

"Can I ask you something?" Dean questioned.

"Thought you just wanted to drink," She teased with a smirk.

"Yeah, you got me there," He nodded, spinning his glass on the bartop.

"Ask your question, Dean," Y/N said.

"When we first met, you recognized our names... Did you know my dad?" Dean asked.

"I did," She stated.

"How'd you meet him?" Dean questioned.

"I used to be a bounty hunter and I was sent to Tennessee to catch a perp who escaped police custody... I originally thought it was a network because we had security footage of at least five different people. The guy turned out to be a shifter and I killed him before he could hurt anyone else," Y/N started, taking a sip from her glass.

"I saw him transform and it really messed me up... I fell down a rabbit hole of research into shapeshifters and skinwalkers, but I had no fuckin' clue what was real. I decided that I needed to find a specialist on the matter," She said.

"That's when you met my dad?" Dean asked.

She nodded, "I watched the news in surrounding states for anything out of the ordinary and went to the crime scenes when a case stuck out to me. I knew that there had to be people out there who worked as cleaners for this sort of thing. Originally I was thinking FBI or private agencies but then your dad showed up and I knew he was my guy... An old leather jacket, a fake FBI badge and an 'I'm the boss' attitude that had people telling him whatever he needed to know. I tailed him out to a bar and basically begged him to tell me what the hell was really out there," Y/N said.

"And he told you? Willingly?" Dean asked.

"I think he was impressed by how hard I worked to pin someone like him down," Y/N said.

"That sounds like him," Dean nodded.

"Yeah," Y/N muttered.

....

Eight Years Earlier

John Winchester sat at the bar, scribbling notes down in his notebook. A half-empty bottle of beer sat on the bartop beside his journal as he worked.

"This seat taken?" Y/N asked.

"I'm not in the mood for company, kid," John stated.

Y/N sat down in the chair beside him, "Two more of whatever the gentleman is having, please," She said.

The bartender nodded, moving to the other end of the bar to prepare their drinks.

"You really don't take no for an answer, huh?" John asked.

"I've been looking for someone in your line of work for some time now and I think it'd be best if we just cut the chitchat and got right to it," Y/N said.

John shifted discreetly, hand settling on the handle of his gun.

"I'm not looking for a fight, I'm just looking for some answers," Y/N said.

"Answers about what?" John asked, thumb settling on the hammer of his gun.

"Well, for starters, I'd like you to take your hand off the gun in your left inside jacket pocket because it's feeling a little adversarial," Y/N said.

John clenched his jaw, slowly removing his hand from the gun and shifting to rest it on the bartop.

"Atta boy," Y/N smiled, not breaking eye contact as she held out a twenty dollar bill to the bartender.

He set two beers on the bartop, "Keep the change," Y/N said dismissively, folding her hands on the bartop.

The bartender took the money from her hand, John watched him move over to the register.

"I'd like you to tell me about everything that goes bump in the night," Y/N said.

"I don't know what you're talking about," John muttered, shaking his head.

"Well, lucky for you, I did my research. I've been watching you for a few days now and I even went to your motel... You weren't there, but I found some rather interesting reading materials about something called a Rugaru," Y/N said, pulling a newspaper clipping from the pocket of her coat and sliding it across the bartop to him.

John glanced at it, he definitely had that pinned on his wall at the motel, "What the hell is this?" He questioned.

"I had to make sure you were legit," Y/N shrugged.

"Why?" John asked, clearly beginning to lose patience with the woman.

Y/N pulled a file from her bag, setting it on the bartop and sliding it over to him. John glanced at her, flipping open the manilla folder and looking over the pictures she had provided.

Y/N took a drink of her beer before returning it to the bartop.

"Shapeshifter," John stated, examining the security camera image of a woman with lense flared eyes.

"Yep, I was sent to Tennessee to collect a bounty on someone who'd broken into some houses and killed the families. The guy was selling off their stuff but no one could pin him down until he got sloppy. He doubled back to the same shop and the owner called the police," Y/N started, looking over at him.

"He was arrested and barely spent a night in jail before somehow managing to escape police custody. Families kept dying so there was no question that he was still in Tennessee. Security camera footage showed at least nine different people selling stolen items to local pawnshops, which had me thinking it was a network. I managed to find one of the guys and tailed him to a barn on the outskirts of town. I thought he was using it to stash the stolen items, but then he just started peeling his skin off... That guy walked out of the barn as a completely different person and suddenly everything got a hell of a lot more confusing," Y/N continued.

"Did you kill him?" John asked.

"I did, but not before I asked him what the hell he was. The guy was happy to tell me whatever I needed to know when he thought I was gonna let him walk," Y/N replied.

"And what exactly do you need from me?" John asked, closing the folder.

"I've been conducting some research of my own, but I don't know my ass from my elbow when it comes to this shit. I want you to tell me what else is really out there," Y/N requested calmly.

"You sure you really wanna know?" John asked.

"Tell me everything," Y/N stated.

John and Y/N talked at the bar for hours, he told her as much as she was willing to hear about all the things that go bump in the night.

"Is that everything?" Y/N asked after he had finished.

"Everything I know about so far," He said.

Y/N nodded, "Next few are on me. Thanks for your help," She said, setting a hundred dollar bill on the bartop.

Y/N hopped off her chair, slinging her bag over her shoulder as she wordlessly made her way out of the bar. She walked over to her motorcycle, grabbing her helmet from on top of the seat.

"Hey, kid!" Someone called, she turned to see the man from the bar jogging over to her.

"I want you to give me a call if you ever need a second opinion," He said, quickly scribbling his name and number on the back of a business card before passing it to her.

"Will do," Y/N paused, eyes flickering down to the coffee-stained card, "John Winchester," She said, looking back up at him. He nodded, making his way back into the bar.

...

"Did you ever call him?" Dean asked, Y/N shook her head.

"I probably should have though, he was a good hunter... Awful person, but a good hunter," She said.

Dean huffed as a small smile broke out across his face, "No kidding," Dean muttered.

"That's probably why you're so screwed up, huh?" Y/N questioned.

"Can we just go back to drinking?" He asked.

"Absolutely not, you wanted to talk," She said, he sighed.

"There's a lot of reasons I'm screwed up, but he was probably one of them... Care to tell me why you're such a pleasure to be around?" Dean questioned.

"Orphan. No family to screw me up, I did it all on my own," Y/N said, picking up her glass.

"I'm sorry," Dean said, watching her as she took a sip from her drink.

"Don't be. It is what it is," She shrugged, looking over at him.

"Do you ever wonder what your life would've been like if you hadn't found out about everything?" He asked.

"No... I get to protect people and kick ass, there isn't anything better," Y/N stated.

"Yeah, I don't really see you as a mini-van driving soccer mom," Dean said with a smile.

"No, I'm not exactly the nurturing type," Y/N said with a smirk.

"That would be one badass kid though," He said.

Y/N chuckled, "Definitely," She nodded, "So, what does the great Dean Winchester think his life would be like without hunting?" Y/N asked.

"I haven't thought about it much," He said dismissively, picking up his glass and finishing his drink.

"Well, I can definitely see you as a dad with a cute little wife and a house in the suburbs," Y/N said.

"Really?" Dean asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh yeah," Y/N nodded, taking a sip of her drink, "And you'd definitely be the hot dad that all the single moms would drool over," Y/N said.

"Didn't realize you thought so highly of me, sweetheart," Dean stated.

"Don't let it inflate your ego too much," Y/N said.

"I'll try," He chuckled.

Y/N studied him for a moment, turning on her barstool to face him, "I think subtlety is a waste of everybody's time so I'm just going to say that I want you to come back to my motel with me tonight," She said.

"Seriously?" Dean asked.

"Unless you have something better to do," Y/N replied.

"Nothing comes to mind," Dean said.

"Good, let's go," Y/N said, finishing her drink before sliding off her barstool.

Dean followed her through the crowd and out of the bar. She started walking to the right, "I parked over here," Dean said, gesturing to the left.

"I'll drive," Y/N said, Dean nodded and followed her towards her vehicle. He stopped in his tracks when he saw her pick up the helmet from on top of the motorcycle.

"Sweetheart, maybe we should just take my car tonight," He offered.

"Why? You scared?" She asked with a smirk, holding out the helmet.

"No, of course not," Dean scoffed, making his way over to her. He took the helmet from her hand, watching her flip her leg over the motorcycle and pull her hair up into a ponytail.

He sighed before reluctantly putting on the helmet and getting onto the bike behind her. She reached behind herself and grabbed his hands, wrapping his arms snugly around her waist.

"Hold on tight, baby," Y/N instructed, kicking up the kickstand and starting the bike. She pulled out of the parking lot before speeding off down the road in the direction of her motel.

...

Dean's eyes fluttered open, he squinted at the bright morning sunlight flooding in through the window as he rolled onto his other side. His arm stretched out across the sheets, fingertips connecting with a folded scrap of paper sitting on the mattress. Dean grabbed the paper and brought it closer to himself, flipping it open with his thumb.

'Last night was fun. See you soon. XO -Y/N'

A soft smile broke out across his face, the tip of his thumb brushing over Y/N's handwriting. He turned onto his back, slowly becoming aware of how sore his body was.

Dean sighed, reaching out to set the paper on the nightstand beside the bed before getting up and making his way into the bathroom.

He paused when he caught his reflection in the mirror, his body was littered with colorful love bites and his lips were still slightly swollen from the night before. Dean leaned closer to the mirror, tilting his head to study the array of colors lining the skin along the side of his neck.

He could get used to seeing himself like that.

Dean smiled, reaching up to touch the marks before moving over to the shower. He washed quickly, redressing in his clothing from the night before and grabbing the note from the nighstand. Dean walked back to the bar, getting into the Impala and driving to the motel where Sam was waiting for him.

Dean had never felt better, the smile wouldn't leave his face and he knew that he probably looked like an idiot driving around by himself with a huge grin, but he didn't care.

Dean pulled into the parking lot of the motel, parking the car and making his way over to his room. He unlocked the door and stepped inside, closing the door behind himself.

Sam looked up from his laptop, "Hey, Dean, listen, I'm really sorry about last night," He said.

"Yeah, me too," Dean replied.

"That argument didn't need to happen, but I think we should just forget about it and move on," Sam said.

"Yeah, anyway, guess what I did last night," Dean said.

"Dude, I don't wanna know," Sam said, shaking his head.

"Oh, you're gonna want to hear this," Dean nodded.

"Fine, what?" Sam asked.

"I slept with her," Dean said.

"With who?" Sam questioned.

"Y/N," Dean grinned.

Sam scoffed, "If you're going to lie, at least make it believable," He said, eyes returning to the screen of his laptop.

"I'm serious," Dean said.

Sam looked up from his screen, staring at his brother for a second before a look of shock settled on his face, "You're not kidding," Sam stated.

"Nope and it was amazing. Changed my life," Dean said happily.

"Are you two dating now?" Sam asked.

"What? No. Why would you ask that?" Dean questioned.

"You just seemed really happy, that's all," Sam shrugged.

"Whatever... I need to change then we can get on the road," Dean said, picking up his duffle bag and unzipping it.

"What? What about the hunt?" Sam questioned.

"Oh, Y/N already took care of it," Dean said dismissively, pulling out a change of clothes.

"And you're not pissed? Wow, must have been a really good night," Sam said, closing his laptop and moving to gather his things.

"Best night of my life," Dean stated, stepping into the bathroom and closing the door.

[misstycloud]

Can you do a yandere firefighter if that’s possible??

GN reader x Firefighter

TW- thoughts about jumping through a window. Burning inside building.

——————-

Was this it? you thought. Were you really going to die in an apartment fire, and so young as well? You hadn’t even had time to start collecting that crazy amount of cats into your home. All because your dumbass neighbour left the stove on.

You had been catching up on some TV shows in your bedroom with headphones on, so you didn’t perceive any danger until the burning smell attacked your senses. You connected the dots and rushed for the door and threw it open, but the fire had already spread through your floors hallway and blocked your exit.

Loud sirens screamed in the distance and pierced the ears of everyone unfortunate to be close. You backed away from the flaming hall and closed the door to separate you and the inferno for as long as possible. You needed to find another way out.

The windows! But when you looked down you only saw stone hard concrete 100 feet away. Right, you lived on the highest floor. How could you forget that? You certainly couldn’t jump, if you did you’d turn into mush for sure. But what choice did you have? It was that or burn to death, being turned into a pancake sounded less painful in a way.

You cringed at the thought. Perhaps you should make sure there was absolutely no other escape before resorting to that. But before you could start searching for other possible exits, the roof collapsed and spread ashened rubble on the floor. The fire was now licking at your walls and furniture, devouring it.

The suddenness of it shocked you and had you fall backwards to avoid being crushed. Coughing you tried to make your way to the window. It was getting hard to breathe. The smoke infiltrated your lungs and irritated them.

“Ah!” You cried.

Something hit you in the back and brought you down. It was heavy and you couldn’t get it off you no matter how much you tried. No, you thought. If you were stuck how were you supposed to pancake your way outside? There you laid wheezing on the ground as the different moments of life passed through your thoughts.

Your vision was getting hazy and the world around you was starting to disappear more and more. It was painful, the smoke. It was stinging your throat and made it sore. In your delirious state you could do nothing except call for help. Just as everything turned dark, you thought you heard the sound of footsteps and a voice scream something. If it wasn’t for the smoke and the fact you were going to die, you might’ve taken it for your name.

—————

A beeping noise awoke you. You tried to open your eyes, which were still groggy from sleep. There was a particular smell hanging in the air. It was a mix between a bunch of different things. Mostly noticeable a little bitter, with undertones of the artificial fragrance contained in soaps and cleaners. Definitively a kind of treatment facility. Must be a hospital, you thought.

Your throat killing you and felt like you hadn’t had an ounce of water in weeks, while travelling through the desert. The inner walls were scraping each other like sandpaper. You desperately needed something to drink. As on cue, a tan hand reached forward with a cup in its grasp. Your still adjusting gaze landed on a new figure you hadn’t realised were a simple three feet away.

The sight startled you somewhat and you would’ve moved back if your body would listen to you, you were completely won out. The man was a stranger, but there was something slightly familiar with him. Although you couldn’t put your finger on it. At least he let out a comforting aura through the warm smile, signaling he meant no harm.

He wasn’t bad looking, honestly. Though he was no model he sure had his good traits. The soft-looking curly dark hair being one of them.

“How are you feeling?” He asked gently.

You drank the water he’d offered you and coughed a few times before answering,“Um….fine..”

“I’m glad. The doctors told me you would be okay after they gave you all those medical stuff and rest, but I couldn’t keep myself from worrying y’know. Although you do have a sprained shoulder-“

As he said so, you realised the right side did feel a little funny. Shifting it you quickly accepted it really was sprained and you held in an uncomfortable hiss.

“-but it’ll heal within a few weeks since it wasn’t too serious. It’s lucky I found you and managed to get you out in time or your condition could’ve been worse than this and that would be awful.”

His everlasting rant about you and you well-being would’ve went on seemingly forever if you hadn’t cut him short. You put up a finger to halt him.

“Yes, yes, thanks for caring but did you say that you got me out? Like from the burning building I was stuck in?” You asked with furrowed brows.

The man sighed softly, almost a little regretfully and moved his eyes to the floor and then back to you. “Ehm, yes, it was me. Though there’s nothing to thank me for. Just doing my part. And besides, it’s you so...hehe” the last part he whispered quietly to himself.

You blinked in silence and stared emotionally at him. “Wow, thank you for saving me. I-I don’t know what I would’ve done if it wasn’t for you…” Actually meeting your saviour was more overwhelming than you ever thought it would be. Now it finally hit you properly what could’ve gone down less than 24 hours ago. You believed you could come to terms with your death; that was a lie.

Who could do that? Especially if it was in the way you thought you’d go. You lived however, and it was all because of the same young man seated next to you. You didn’t even know his name, so you asked. “Well, I��ll continue to thank you no matter what you say. So thanks again Mr-…?”

“Oh, you don’t have to use any formality with me.” The dark-haired man waved off any attempt of custom. Then he continued, cheeks turning a little red this time, “You can just call me by my name.”

“For real? I don’t know your name though.”

Your saviour bashfully ran his fingers through the thick waves on his head and nervously licked his slightly chapped lips. “Eh, I don’t think you remember, but we have met before.”

“We have?” You spurred your brain to let you recall any meeting with this guy that you forgot. Sadly your mind was not cooperating today and left you blank.

“Yeah, we actually went to middle school together.” He revealed and gave you a dopey smile.

You and him went to the same school? You didn’t think so. Someone like him would not be easy for many to forget and that applied to you too. Scanning his strong muscular frame, you were certain there was no one who fit that description. Did he mistake you for someone else? That could explain it. Once more looking at his brown hair and eyes, you said “Are you sure? I’m pretty sure I would’ve remembered you in that case.”

“You probably wouldn’t.” He chuckled and gestured to his body, “I didn’t exactly look like this back then.”

“What, you weren’t one of those soccer or basket boys taking up the entire room?” You snickered at the thought of him being one of the schools meatheads. Despite him definitely having a lot of meat he didn’t come across as the stereotypical asshole type.

“No, I was quite the opposite actually. More like the silent shy type.”

You hummed in response, adding a nod to it. “I still haven’t gotten your name though.”

“Benny.”

‘What? Did he say Benny? Like the same Benny that got a boner during a PowerPoint presentation??’ You honestly couldn’t believe your eyes. Could the man in front of you truly be the same as the tiny boy you’d seen in your youth. If so, then shit has changed a great deal under all the years since then. The Benny from the past was but a small fragment of the one currently facing you.

You awkwardly laughed, scratching the back of your head stiffly, “Ahhh, now I remember. How have you been, it’s been so long?”

Benny smiled at your interest towards him and the fact you still knew who he was. It would hurt if you didn’t. He started feeling giddy inside as he began revealing what he was doing for the last decade.

“I’m good, not been up to much except work. Takes up time since you have to be ready and in shape too. I don’t have many hobbies either, hehe.”

While he explains, you notice that his gaze never strays away from you. Not even for a second. Most people tend to avert their eyes when in a conversation simply because it’s uncomfortable after some time, but it appeared that he was not like most people.

“Right, you’re a firefighter of course!” You did a little applaud to congratulate him on his success.

“Thank you, (Y/n), your praise is all I need.”

“Huh?”

Before you could inquire more about what he meant a doctor had swung open the door. He greeted the two of you and proceeded to ask you the normal questions; how you were feeling and such. Then he explained your condition and what happens to people who experience smoke inhalation. Thankfully with the right treatment and time you’d be as good as new. Therefore they saw no reason to keep you there, giving a paper containing a prescription to…Benny..?

“Make sure they get the rest they need and fresh air. Avoid anything that may cause an irritation to their lungs.” The doctor ordered before turning to you. “You got a good boyfriend there, kid. He’s a keeper I’ll tell you, completely out of his mind when he brought you here, cares a lot for you.” With those words, the medic parted with you and closed the door behind him firmly.

You immediately confronted your saviour, “Why’d he think you were my boyfriend, did you say that or something?”

Benny put his hands up in surrender, “No no, of course I didn’t say anything like that! They must’ve assumed it.” He defended himself.

You sighed, admitting it could easily just be them who put a label on your relation to each other. It wasn’t his fault. Yeah, why would he even claim to be your part enter to begin with? That didn’t make any sense. It’s not as if you were close back then and like hell there were any benefit from it.

Grabbing the sheet of paper from the brown-haired man, you sped read the words. “How am I supposed to heal at home if I don’t have one.” You scoffed. Now you had to find a place to stay, that was easier said than done. You could potentially stay at a friends but you didn’t want to dump all the healthcare stuff on them.

Apart from the lung coughing, you also couldn’t use your arm for a while. Not until your sprained shoulder has healed which would mean they’d be forced to help you out with different things. A deep voice woke you from your thoughts.

“If you don’t have a place to stay you can stay at my apartment!” Benny offered a little too fast, his tone made him sound like he was feeling bad for you but his face betrayed him. The expression on it was way too bright; it creeped you out somewhat.

“A-are you sure? I don’t have any money left so I can’t pay you, and you heard what the doc said, you’d have to take care of me-“

“- I don’t mind.” He stated firmly. “Really, I wouldn’t.”

You stared at him in shock. “No, you can’t actually mean that. We barely know each other, there is no-“

“(Y/n), please.” Grabbing you mildly by the shoulders, the young man spoke “Let me take care of you. It’s no biggie, I promise. And you don’t have to pay me, I want to do this for you. So please don’t resist, okay?”

Damn. What other choice did you have? Your apartment along with all your stuff was burnt to a crisp. You had no money and couldn’t work in your state. You didn’t wish to admit it but Benny was the best alternative; if not the only one.

That paired with the assures look he was giving you, there seemed to be no option than to yield and that’s how you found yourself nodding along to his proposal. You pursed your lips and turned your eyes to your clasped hands, at the same time the firefighter lit up with joy and laughed. “Thank you for giving me a chance. You won’t regret it, I’ll make sure of it.”

—————

Sorry this is shitty, Just tried to whip up something.

I’ve been bombarded with exams and it never seems to stop, it’s the reason I haven’t been able to post lately.

Can’t say when the next post is going to be but I’ll try to come up with something!

[pianocat939]

I'm kinda not feeling any creativity going through, so have this instead. Also, disclaimer, both parties are undefined in both name and gender so if the pronouns get confusing, I apologize.

Have some Blind Yan because I have no creative juice

Tw: murder (not super descriptive), entrapment, implications of abandonment or disowning of (not MC),

Additional disclaimer: This is an accurate depiction of a certain type of blindness, specifically someone who retains a small amount of their vision. (And I can say accurate because one of my parents is blind so aha- you can't tell me it's wrong.)

Imagine MC being like a fugitive, literally running away for some kind of crime.

And of course, they encounter some terrible weather on their never ending journey. So their miserable selves end up trying to look for a shelter. (It’s giving “food for the poor”)

They find a fairly-sized mansion on the outskirts of a town. It’s so dead and silent, they assume it was abandoned. Even if the mansion seemed so exquisite.

It’s quite dim. They notice the mansion is spotless, with not a single problem in the building at all. Until they notice a lit room down the hall.

Usually they would never approach any possible humans, but in that moment, the curiosity was too much.

In that said lit room, is a person sitting in a chair. Seemingly a library full of…odd books. Books without a proper cover, and held together by rings.

They notice the person is reading…with their fingers. Sliding their fingertips across each line.

MC realizes that the person is blind. Of course, given their current state, they’re going to take advantage of that. Just as they were stepping away from the door frame, a sudden thunder crackles, causing them to flinch and lightly bump into the wall.

Well shit.

“Hello? Is someone here?”

MC is frozen. The person stands up, their arms stretched outwards as they guided themselves through the doorway. A bit faster than MC would have liked.

MC is quick to speed walk away, until the person speaks once more.

“You’ll get sick if you go back out there. You should stay while you’re here…Even just for a few hours.”

MC paused. Does this person not fear the possible dangers? They don’t even know a fugitive is within their home.

.

.

.

And so MC finds themselves drinking tea with this blind one. Oddly not minding their little rambles.

It doesn’t surprise MC that the mansion was bought by their parents. No wonder there were so many expensive braille books. But they found it odd not a single helper was around.

"Oh I only have a cleaner come around twice a week. Everything else is managed by me."

After a few hours, the rain didn't stop at all. If anything, it got worse. MC was deciding whether or not to just suffer through the shivering wetness. Just as they were about to excuse themselves, the blind one stops them, standing up from their chair to face them...Well, trying to.

"Don't leave, just stay. You could get terribly sick from the cold.'

MC just books it. They have nowhere better to go anyway. They reveal a bit about themselves, who they were really. Except saying "wanderer" instead of fugitive. The government can't catch this fucker yet-

In the morning, the rain has stopped. MC was not only woken up by the blind one, but served a plate of food as well. Surprisingly not burnt or too much salt. It looked like a typical dish that anybody could make.

Before MC could even repack their things to leave, the blind one asks, almost begging for them to stay. It seems the loneliness bothers this person. MC is hesitant, but decides to stay.

Over the days, MC notices something. The blind one always seems to be shuffling close by, every spoken word from them making the blind one to smile and hesitantly approach in the direction of sound. It seems the person is a lot more clingy than one would assume.

They are a little amazed the blind one is able to live mostly on their own, even recognizing the light or dark spaces. Even if their movements are hesitant.

.

.

.

Ah but inevitably, the government comes knocking on the mansion door. They're quick to panic, packing up everything they could and about to bolt- until they hear a strangled scream.

They know they should run, but curiosity and maybe even worry for the blind one is too overpowering. They glance down the stairs, and witness something all too shocking.

There's three bloody bodies, their black suits tainted with a slight red. Stab wounds and ripped shirts accompanying the already horrifying scene. In the middle, stands the blind one, huffing a little. They held a kitchen knife in hand. The blind one looks around, outstretching their arms in front of them, stepping forward slowly.

"Dearie? Where are you? No need to run off now, those intruders are gone."

MC, horrified and literally so confused, tries to open the door- but it’s completely locked. Someone hugs them so tight from behind, the bloodied knife still in their hands. MC is more terrified than the time they committed crime all those months ago.

"Don't go. Don't leave me. I made sure they'll never find you. I'm useful, right?" The blind one's voice is desperate, as if they were about to cry. They drop the knife, pinging against the marble floor. "I know I can't see- but I can still do most things just fine. Don't throw me away like everyone else, don't coup me up in this cage like they did. You can stay, and I can pardon your crime."

Tears started to flow from their eyes, as they clutch MC's clothes tightly, their nails digging into the fabric. "Just stay with me. I don't want to be alone and broken anymore. I'm not helpless."

The blind one can cook, cook well it seemed.

-

(I felt like doing a bit of angst and a tiny sprinkle of violence. Bro having both parties with undefined gender or names is HARD to write. But then again this was like last minute scramble typing)

- Celina

[jujutsukgojo]

Heat of the island chapter 2

Summary:

“Wh-a-you?” He’s breaking up slightly. “The tracker is on, can you trace it?” Shouto grabs your hand. You give it a slight squeeze. “Fo-” Silence, completely deafening silence. Neither you nor Shouto breathed. Shouta Aizawa had been cut off before he could finish what he was saying.  

first chap

tw: Bully, storms, fear. i dont own bnha or the characters.

As the sun sets, you work on the radios. Everyone has left you to complete the tasks of fixing it and to get the plane running. During this time, you notice that it isn’t damaged in the slightest. The outside isn’t even scratched, and the inside is perfect. Is something else amiss or did you fly it better than originally thought?  

Never mind that last part. If you were a good pilot, you’d never be stuck on some God forsakenly beautiful island where the white sand travels long, allowing the gentle movements of the cool water to touch it. This pretty ass island with lush greens and tall shady trees, and the subtle breeze of air that smells so fresh.   

You hate it. You hate all of this stupid nature.  

“Come on, come on.” The radio gives nothing to work with. “Damn it...”   

You wipe your forehead from the sweat. Despite the beauty of the place, the heat is extreme. It has to be a hundred or more.   

“Fuck it.” You take off your shirt and are left with your undershirt that is this close to leaving too if it gets any hotter.  

In just a few hours, what is left of Shouto’s ice quirk has been used the most. From people coming up to him and placing their head on his hand, to him cooling down the plane you are stationed in. Bakugou, who has stripped you of first name rights, glares at him every time he does.  

And no, you don’t miss the looks given to you. Never in your life have you received such judgement when you buried Jay. Were you just supposed to leave him to decompose in the sun? He was gone with no way home.   

Dead. His body completely changed from how you first saw it to look as if he was sleeping. When you laid him to rest, it was exceptionally disturbing since he didn't look dead at all. With each pound of dirt that covered him, the scene looked horrid. Like you were burying him alive. 

Wiping your tears, you continue to work. By this time however, you don’t know if they are tears or beads of sweat as gross as it sounds.  Giving up on the radio for now, you switch to the plane. It hasn’t turned on but physically everything is okay. “It’s gotta be electrical then.”   

  Your plane doesn’t have gas since it is an energy-based plane. At the time, you thought it would be cleaner.   

Damn. The only thing you can think of right now would be to jump it like a battery, leaving Denki to be your human charger. His quirk may not be working perfectly, but little consistent jumps may help this pretty girl.   

 You jump up and run to Denki who is working next to Momo. Right when you exit the plane to call out his name, the black haired genius falls. Everyone gathers around her, trying to fan her as much as they can.  

 Momo has always been one of the healthiest people you’ve ever met. Seeing her faint is not an easy sight. Mina fans her and demands she get water.   Everyone freezes. They didn’t think about that at all. Everyone has been reeling from this and the loss of the use of their quirk, that people forgot about water and food.   

“Oh, I got it!” You run back to the plane to get some supplies. The passengers have their own supply of food and drinks while the pilots have theirs. The supply isn’t much but at least Momo can have something.  

You take a bottle water from the passenger’s supply and run to Momo. Before you leave, you grab the first aid kit that is placed in Recovery Girl’s first doctor bag. You hand the bottle to Mina and watch her open it. Reaching inside the black bag, you feel the smelling salt. It is an old practice but one that Recovery Girl still uses.   

Momo wakes up quickly once she smells the strong salt. Mina gives her the water immediately. “Please drink, Momo.”   

The woman sips on the water. Her black eyes start to become focused. “What happened?”  

“This heat is too dangerous. We have to do something.”   Momo looks at around then her black eyes land on the bag. She turns to you with a warm smile. “Thank you, (Y/n).”  

“No problem,” This heat, this island, is way too much. It is a terrible atmosphere that is making everyone more irritable by the second. For the first time since discovering Jay’s body, you’ve been granted some kind of kindness. “If you’d like, you can come with me to Betty away from the sun.”  

  She shakes her head no. “No, we have so much to do out here that need my attendance.”   

Afterwards, Bakugou’s words to a few others do not go unnoticed. “Funny how she had that the entire time.”   

“Right?” Koda?  

“It makes sense that she does, Bakugou, now stop.” 

  That's just ridiculous. It's not like the plane's supplies were a secret! Like everyone else, you didn’t even focus on all of that. While they were building shelter and scoping out the place, you were doing your own thing to help out. You weren’t hiding or hoarding anything.  

 Running into Denki, you ask him to help you with the radio.   

“Don’t you think he’d be better over here, L/n?” Asks Tsu with a tone that rubs you the wrong way. Snooty? Rude? Condescending or something? It's hard to place but it definitely isn’t good.  

And this is coming from Tsu. The first one to always ask people to call her by her first name. Shoulders lowering, you look at her and answer, “No, I need him for just a minute.”  

As the two of you leave for the plane, someone says, “Check on him soon, I'm serious.” Of course, a few people laughed.   

Denki nervously chuckles. “Haha, not necessary, right, Pilot?” Smiling a little, you assure him that he’s fine and you just need him to give the plane and radio a little juice. “Oh! Okay. Not a lot right? Because I can only do a little.”  

��Trust me, it won’t be much. Even if the radio only starts, you’d be a huge help.”  

His cheeks get a different shade of pink than what the sun gave him. You go to the wall where a hidden compartment is and hand him some sunblock and aloe vera. “I packed it when I was hired to take you guys to the island. I though Jay and I could get a little sun before we took off.”  

He stills and gives his condolences. “I’m so sorry, Pilot. This whole thing is fucked up.” You thank him.   

“Hey, once we’re home, we’ll give him a big send off.” You giggle at the thought. “He was dramatic. He’d love that.”  

 Clearing your throat, you point to the radio. “I just need a little jump. If this works then we just might be saved.”  

Denki focuses on it. Little sparks emit from his hands and onto the device. With ease, the meter moves. “Again.”  

Little happens. “I’m sorry, Pilot.” Shaking your head, you lead him to the controls. “Here, try this.”  

Denki does his best again. “Damn it!” He places his hands on the dash. Rubbing his back, you say, “It’s alright. Betty probably took more of a beating than I'm assuming. It's not you, Denki.”  

“If you need help again, you’ll get me?” There is a smidge of hope in his voice. Eager to please and desperate to get off the island.  

“Absolutely. We need you, Denki.”  

-----------

Night falls on the heroes and one quirkless pilot. The night provides a chill that they relish before it becomes too cold for comfort. Momo orders for them to build a fire. Sticks and branches are in a pile around rocks that were found. Shouto provides little flicks of flames that take too long to catch up. Bakugou begins to get even more irritable. So, you try to provide a solution.  

“Why not just get into the plane?”  

“Not everyone wants to go back in there when you crashed it, (L/n). It's a little fucking traumatizing.” Mina snaps. You look just as surprised as she does. She places her hand on her mouth. “P-Pilot, I'm so sorr-”  

“Some things need to be said.” Eijrou, Kirishima, looks down at the ground in his squatting position. Never had you ever received any kind of hostile treatment from them. Every time they see you, they give you a big kiss and a hug. It was always love with them two.  

Izuku calms everyone down. “The fire is going to kick up any second now. No reason to fight. Pilot, we’re the heroes, okay? We know a little better, that’s all that they meant.”  

Lies. That isn’t what they meant at all. You want to object but the expression on his freckled face is pleading with you to not fight. This is what he thinks is the best course of action. Bakugou’s brows furrow even more. You are sure he'll develop wrinkles soon.  

“Too fucking long!” He sticks his palm up and fires his explosion. At the same time, wind blows. Unexpectedly, it pushes the flames from his quirk to the wrong direction. The flames hit the trees directly. The smoke hits the sky. Like it knew what to do, it sends droplets to the stranded heroes and a single pilot. It's now colder than it was before.

“Why did you do that, Katsuki?! It didn’t work at the training camp so what made you think you could do it now?!” At the mention of the camp, he gets in your face. “Look here you little shit-”  

“Kaachan!” He tells his friend to shut up. Turning back to you, you glare at him fiercely. Kirishima tries to tell you that it isn’t necessary to scold him and that it was worth a shot.   

“Some things need to be said, right?” Kirishima looks at you like you struck him. For a second you feel almost bad for throwing his words back into his face. Then again, who the hell cares right now?  

Everyone stops talking when Bakugou grabs your arms tightly. “Stand the fuck down.” He growls.   

It's scaring you; you admit that. He's bigger and stronger than you. And even though his quirk is only a fraction of what it usually is, it is still lethal. Hell, you’re scared and angry of all of this too! If they can show their emotions, why can’t you?  

“Kaachan, please.” Izuku comes in the fray and tries to separate him from you. “Control the bitch, Deku. I mean it.”   

“This is the shit we have to deal with, everybody. Fucking useless. Thank God we have Momo.” Bakugou yells. Half the people who you thought were your friends, honestly consider his perspective. You're just too suspicious, right? And useless. Who’s to say that the plane isn’t working in the first place. Why go by your word of all things?   

Dread hits your stomach when the assumptions of their thoughts cross your mind. You may not have danger sense but you do have a brain. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to deduce that you are in danger.   

Izuku’s One For All’s danger sense is slightly ringing. “No, that can’t be it. I must feel something in the forest.” He whispers.   

He’s in denial.   

You don’t want to sleep outside with them. Like your first mind, the plane ends up being your bed. Izuku decides to sleep with you inside. He tells you it’s because of the cushions. Both of you know it’s because of what happened. Denial is a strong beast, even for the current number one hero.   

In the morning, you peek out the window to see Momo creating small things to give to Asui. The structure is odd. No, you know what it is not even seconds later. It’s a boat. One that won’t hold everyone.  

----

 

The heat is even worse in the morning. The night before seems like heaven compared to this hell. Outside is so hot, you swear you see slight blue rays beating down on everyone. By this time, everyone has stripped down to their knickers. Everyone can be embarrassed later, once they got off this God forsaken island.   

 Ochako comes to you and asks for the supplies you have in the plane. Gladly, you give it to her. Before she leaves, she touches your warm face. “I believe in you, (Y/n).”  

“Why do you say that?” You want to know. For there to be some kind of truth to it. “Because you’re not a liar. You're brave, Pilot. We know who you are. And I trust that.”   

That is all it took to put a smile on your face for what you hope would be forever. Especially when you catch static on the radio. When you hear it you do a happy dance. Static is better than absolutely nothing.  Shouto comes inside to see your dance. You abruptly stop and are about to tell him the good news when he drags you outside. “What’s wrong?”  

“Why did you stay in? It’s past dinner.” You didn’t know about dinner. Oh well. It's not like you wanted to have a meal with them right now. Usually, you’d eat late anyway.  

With a breathy chuckle, you say, “To fix the plane, silly. By the way, I got a static on the radio!  If the radio is working on the plane, then it shouldn’t be long till this baby runs.”  

He uses his right hand to rub your neck. “That’s good, (Y/n).”  

 You hum at the cool sensation. 

That’s when you see that you missed Momo separating rations that you gave them. “ The hell?”  

“You didn’t know?” Turning your head to him, you snap at him. “Now how the fuck would I know about this, Shouto. Why in the hell wouldn’t I be here?”  

He shrugs and pushes you along by your neck. He's being rougher than needed too. Don’t smack him, don’t do it.  

“(L/n)! Here’s yours.” Momo points to the saddest pile of food and water you ever saw. “The audacity...”  

  While everyone has more food, they also have more water. What the hell are you? A cactus or something? “That’s it?”  

“We’re heroes doing all the work so we need more. That and my quirk requires me to eat more than you. You wouldn’t want to take that away, would you?”  

“Pfft, I’m thinking fairly.”  

   “Oh, (L/n). We're heroes. We know better.” You roll your eyes at her. Whatever the hell happened to her is beyond you. Normally, Momo is a fair person who wouldn’t dare have anyone go hungry.   

This sad ass pile of fucking food.  

As you get closer you see what these bitches put in there. A few small water bottles, some crackers, chips, other shit that’ll make you thirsty, and...honey roasted peanuts.  

Your eyes are burning. No one else has peanuts. Just you.  

“We thought since you are fond of them that you would want them.” Momo explains. You stare at the woman sitting on a rock who carries an innocent look on her face. As you study closer, you see the smirk.   

“They’re harmless, (L/n). They won’t kill you.”   

You grab a rock and throw it right at her face.  

---

Idiot Izuku Midoriya catches it in time and Stupid Shouto throws you over his bare, broad shoulder. You slew obscenities that shocked them. Because of the disrespect, you pulled out the thirteen dirty words that Mr. Krabs knew.   

  “Put me down. Put me the fuck down!” You yell as you smack Shouto’s back. Then, you are put down inside Betty. Izuku and Shouto blocked the entrance of the plane.  

 “Go inside and calm down, Pilot.”   

“Get out of my way.”   

“No.” Izuku shifts his weight in order to block you.  

“You’re going to have to move some time.” Going into your sanctuary, you close the door. Although it seems that you acted like a child and slammed their bedroom door, it was really you not wanting anyone to see you cry.   

How could they do that to you? Rub Jay’s death in your face? Jay, your student, your friend, your partner in crime. Someone you knew and cared for so dearly. Someone whose body you discovered. A horrific sight tattooed your mind. Jay’s body is buried here. You had to bury him.  

You bought the peanuts. You left to go to the bathroom.   

 His loss is etched in your soul painfully. It won’t get out, no matter how much you claw your chest.   

  Honey roasted peanuts. You have to eat them since they took the majority of your pile.  

You lay down on your back and place your arms over your eyes. You don’t know how long you cried like that nor do you care. You don’t care how loud you were either. Whether they heard you scream ‘peanuts’ or ‘Jay’ or ‘I’m so sorry’, ‘and I hate you’; you don’t care.   

Because scratching your face and chest and throat isn’t working.

  

You're on your side when you decide to get up. Your head is pounding and eyes are burning but it is nothing in the end.  

 It's quiet outside. There's not a single hum other than the little noises from the birds. Stepping outside, you see Izuku, leaning against the plane. “What’re doing?”  

He jumps up and rubs his neck. “The plane really isn’t comfortable, y’know?”  

“Izuku.”  

  Sighing, “Right. I just, I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”  

“And not going to hurt her.” You meant every word you said to her.  

He shakes his hands. “No! No, I mean it. That whole thing was inappropriate and insensitive. I just want to make sure you’re okay.”  

  “I’m fine. I want to shower though.”  

He agrees. “No, not you! I’m talking about me, ha ha.” Rubbing your face, you try to put him at ease. “It’s okay, Izuku.”  

  He releases the breath he was holding. “I’m going to find water.” You leave him and head for the woods or jungle or whatever the fuck it is. You don’t even know or care at this point. “I’ll go with you.”  

   At first you don’t mind or even wonder why he wants to, until the event with the peanuts crosses your mind. Is danger sense telling you something again, Izuku?   

Leaves from the never ending trees provide shade and slight coolness. Any type of relief you’ll enjoy right now. While heading straight, you find a fork made from stones piled on each other. “What?”  

“Is that normal on an island?” You shake your head no. It wouldn't be odd if the rocks didn't feel...weird? There is something unnatural about the formation. “At least I don’t think so. I failed geography. You’ll go one way and I'll go the other?”  

“If you fear anything, call me, okay?” You walk away when he grabs you gently. “I mean it, (Y/n). Please promise me.”  

“I promise, Izuku. I’ll let you know of anything.” He lets you go as the two of you part ways. Your way isn’t as thick as his, but it is bumpier. The trees are actually thinning out as opposed to the previous trek. The stones are laying flatter as you continue to walk.    

“Whatever.” You mutter as you continue to dodge leaves and the occasional bugs. “Why can’t Koda prove himself useful, eh Bakugou? But no. He's gotta help build stupid shit.”  

Ugh, you’re still not over the boat they’re building.  

They must really hate you now. It's fine because Betty will start up again and when she flies, she’ll look over the dipshits stranded in the water.   

In the midst of your anger, you completely miss the random coconut that lay on the ground, causing you to trip. “Ow, my fucking titty...”  

  When you push yourself up is when you see it. A body of water surrounded by sand and rocks, a small waterfall and is filled with pure blue water. In the water are smooth pebbles that are a beautiful shade of brown, the waterfall blends the water with ripples and makes an ever so slight hue of pretty colors in it.   

  Suddenly, the sheer blue light that has been cast upon the island presses against everything. You notice that it disappears depending on the angle of how you look at an object. No matter how many times you rub your eyes, it doesn’t fully leave.   

  It starts to get hotter and hotter. You can’t stand it anymore and just decide to jump in. Whatever is in there be damned. “Izuku, I'm over here! There’s water!”  

It's cool compared to the air. against what you originally thought, it isn’t that deep. The cold water comes to your chest. Your bra is soaked already but who cares? You’re dirty, hot, and smelly.   

Even though there is no soap, you still relish the rinse. Rubbing it all over your body, you sigh in relief. Izuku finds you after a game of Marco-Polo. He's disheveled and covered in dirt. “Come in, the water’s cold!”  

  Like you, he just jumps in.   

Izuku laughs. “Thank God! I can’t stand the heat anymore.”  

“Well, doll, we have this water.” Although the sheer blue light is still here, you note that there is something about this water that isn’t sitting right with you. The smell is so familiar. Ever since you got to the island you’ve been a bit confused, so maybe this is one of those times?

  It's not just you that's off, though. Everyone has been acting different. Especially, your so-called-friends. Ever since their quirks became MIA, it is like they’re different people. The opposites or the extremities of their personalities. You may be a little confused and irritable, you are nowhere as bad as they are. 

Is it also affecting your sense of smell? Your head is already fuzzy, but it isn’t too farfetched for your nose to be wrong.   

“Izuku, there’s something wrong here.” The smell of the water is so, so familiar.  

 “What’d you mean?” He rubs his chest with the water. Trying to not be so distracted you turn away. “There is a really, really, faint blue light. It gets hotter when it comes up. I think there’s something wrong.”  

  He shrugs. “It’s the heat. I noticed it too.” Looking back at him, you ask, “And you’re not curious that it’s here? Or that we might be the only ones to notice?”  

“I’m sure everyone has and just haven’t mentioned it. It’s nothing, (L/n).”   

The fuck?  

“L/n? What happened to Y/n or Pilot?”  

  He comes closer to you. “Are you upset?” He’s acting weird, flirty or annoyed, you can’t tell. “No, just wondering.”   

  “We need to share the water with everyone. That alright with you?” He gets out and stares at you. “Or do you want to stay here?”  

What is with his tone? “What’s wrong with you, Izuku?”   

“Whatever happened to Midoriya?”  

-----

You decide to stay behind while he got everyone else. The light has faded away and the temperature has gotten a tiny bit better. The smell of the water is still familiar and is becoming stronger.   

“Is it a memory or something?”  

“You found water!” Ochako yells. She jumps in before you can tell her it isn’t that deep. “Ow!”   

You can’t help but laugh. She flicks water in your face playfully. This, this is normal. So why is everything changing? Is discomfort that strong of a factor of someone’s personality?  

  Maybe. You didn’t expect it to happen to Midoriya.   

Moving towards the waterfall to avoid everyone else, Denki calls out to tell you ‘good job!’. You give him a thumbs up. You slightly jump at the sound of Asui’s voice.  

“That must be an exit, then.” She stands next to Bakugou to looks to where she points.   

“The backwater-stream thing? Yeah, I think it is.” Asui nods at you but Bakugou looks more annoyed than ever.  

  The stream separates itself from the main water and circles back towards the waterfall. It goes though the rock wall and into the unknown.   

Asui sighs. “Either way, you’re right. This is an exit. It has to lead to the other side.”    

 “I say one of us swims it and finds out.”  

 He studies you intensely. “I’ll go if you’re chicken.”   

Bakugou gets close to you. “You can’t even swim like that, L/n.” You flick water at his chest. “I can to! Doggy style, but it is still swimming!”  

  He rolls his eyes and demands a better idea. “If you don’t trust me, then Asui would be the best one.”  

“I’ll do it. L/n is right. I can hold my breath longer and swim better.” Before anyone can say anything, she is already dunked and in the exit. Bakugou turns his head toward you. His voice is low and steady. “She better be okay.”   

“Shut up, Bakugou.”   

You don’t know how or why. The feeling is bone chilling and hair raising. Asui's screaming echo throughout the island. Everyone is desperate to get to her. She is then pulled away by Momo, who was able to go into it and grab her. She has big tears streaming down her face. Even if everyone is in conflict, you still hate to see her like this.   

  “T-there’s something in there. I can’t describe it! It made me feel awful and just...looked so familiar.” She looks directly at you with horrified eyes. “Almost like you.”  

  Confused you ask what she’s talking about. How can it be? You never moved from your spot. “I don’t know! It reminded me of you, I guess. Not exactly...I’m sorry, just can’t describe it. I know it wasn’t you but something is in there!”  

  Everyone stares at you. “Did you know?” Raising an eyebrow, you ask, “Kirishima, what’re talking about?”  

“How could you do that! You knew something was in there and you sent her anyway!”  

“I did not! How could I? Why would I?!” You scream. “She’s panicking...” Mina says. It is then you realize that no matter what you say, they won’t believe you. Maybe even Midoriya, who was somewhat with you when you found it.   

“You are the one that found it, L/n. It’s only logical to assume that you knew what was there afterwards. How could you not?” Rolling your eyes at Momo, you ask, “How is that possible. Seriously, tell me. I just jumped in the water over there! How could I have known?”  

  Bakugou crosses his arms. “You’re telling us you jumped in the water without checking it out? You’re that stupid?” Someone snickers a ‘probably’.   

“Bitch, you all did it too! You’re dumber than I am! Why the hell are you heroes so blindly following me then?”  

  Just like you thought: they’ll never believe you. If anyone is to be sacrificed here, it’s you.   

----

Later that day, you watch your back. Midoriya follows you twiddling his thumbs. Before all of this, it would’ve been cute. Just like old times. Now, after all of this, you hate it. You're scared. He's so much bigger than you. So is Kirishima, Bakugou, and Shouto. Koda is too but he’s a non combatant so you stand a chance. The girls here, although they are fierce fighters, you know how to get around them since you would all play fight or spar from time to time. 

  The top three? Yeah, you’re dead. And number one is right behind you.   

“Y/n, can we talk?” Whatever happened to L/n?  

“I know I should’ve said something.” Taking deep breaths, you turn around. “What is it?”  

“I know you’re innocent.” Rolling your eyes, you ask him a question that’s been bothering you. “Why didn’t you defend me then?”  

  His eyes flicker back and forth. “I have no idea.”  

“I’ll tell you why. It’s because ever since we’ve gotten here, your head is big. I thought maybe if one person, one, had some kind of common sense it would be you.”   

You quickly leave with your screwdriver in hand. The faster you fix the fucking plane the better. And you have half a mind to leave them here.  

“Y/n! Wait up!” You stop again for Ochako. “There’s something weird here, don’t you think?” Is this a prank?   

“I noticed something’s wrong, too.”  

“The water...it was off.” Finally, someone who has a clue. “I know right? It was familiar but I can’t put my finger on it. This whole thing has me jumbled.”  

“I have an idea. I can float a little better now, so I'll float up there and see what’s on the other side.”  

-----

It was a little later than you wanted. You suggested the plan to work in the morning, but she insisted. You went into Betty just to work on her some more when it happened: the monitors turned on. The amount of happiness that flooded Betty literally could never be measured.   

  Until you looked at it. The storm monitors showed a terrible storm brewing and headed straight for you. Unbelieving, you exit Betty and look at the sky. Lo’ and behold, a darkness swirled viciously, yet beautifully, in the sky.  

 You run back to everyone. “Ochako! Ochako, don’t do it!”  

  Your feet cross the ground as fast as you can on this sandy terrain. Pushing past the thicket to get to Ochako, who no doubt was probably in the air already. Finally, it started to thin out so you could run better. “Wait! Wait!”  

You have to tell her, all of them. For her to not go to the sky and your discovery. The theory that comes along with it will stop her from doing this, from facing this severe storm headed towards everyone.  

  Then you get there and see the waterfall clearly. She is already up in the air as the clouds get darker. They press against each other gently. Why isn’t she stopping? Doesn’t she see the storm? The little droplets of rain falling on her head isn’t any indication that she should not be up there?  

   “Ochako, no! Cancel the plan! I have to tell you somethi-shit the storm! Get down from there!”  

  Suddenly, there is a smack on the back of your head. “Stop talking!” Bakugou grabs your arm and flings you to the shallow end of the water. Everyone gathers around and cheers Ochako on. All except for Shouto and Midoriya.   

   Shouto comes towards you and helps you up. He wipes your face when the rain gets heavier. “She can’t go up there.”  

“She’s too far, Y/n.”   

The wind gets heavier and heavier. The lightning strikes boldly, making Denki fall down. Ochako is then violently pushed away. She is thrown towards the waterfall and barely makes it over. Along the way she is met with pouring water that threatens to dunk her inside it in hopes to send her down the fall. Ochako screams the entire way until she is on the other side.   

  Everyone calls her name in worry. Midoriya jumps and jumps, pleading with the holder to wake up Float and save her. Alas, Nana Shimura remains silent to his pleas. Asui jumps towards the fall but is pushed down by the fierce wind. Momo quickly rushes over to grab her.   

  Shouto stands firm and covers you, making sure to hold you steady lest you be hurt by the storm also. “Come on, we can’t stay here!”  

  He picks you up and darts towards shore. Bakugou calls for him and receives no answer.   

Back to shore, Betty comes to view, as well as the waves behind her. They are too far out to touch her. That doesn’t stop the worry for your poor girl.   

The hero runs inside and sets you down on the ground right before the cockpit. Betty slightly rocks from the power of the storm. You hold onto Shouto who refuses to let you go. He cradles you close to him, his large hand on your head and his arm around your waist. You can hear his pounding heartbeat loud and clear. Despite his cool demeanor, he's as hurt and human as you are. 

  Images of brown flowing hair and a poor body being whipped around flashes before you. Battered from the wind and rain's brutality, you can still recognize who haunts you. Ochako. She’s not going to make it home. Just like Jay.   

The storm barely covers your wail.   

----

The severity of the storm lasts no longer than a couple of hours. What is left is soft patters of rain. Shouto had left you for only moments of time. He had been searching for Ochako in the storm like everyone else with no avail. No one could get up there to the top. There was no clue as to where she was. Not a speck of blood, an item of clothing, or a body.   

 With no way to get up there by flying or jumping, climbing and trying to find some way around it was the next best thing. Climbing failed and hurt Mina’s hands. Midoriya even tried but had fallen too. Around the area there’s nothing but trees and rocks. Not a single way to find her without some kind of help.   

When Shouto came back, he told you everything. Shouto never let your crying form go. Not even as he shed a few tears of his own for his friend who is most likely gone; taken by brutal nature for her bravery. Shouto is not one to give up at all. However, the sight of Ochako swinging around like that near water and in a storm, leaves little to hope for.   

The monitor goes off again. “What was that?” Shouto sits up and looks around. “The monitor!”  

“Hel-” At first, the male voice was clear until the static set in. Immediately, you recognized the voice.  

“Shouta!”  

“Sensei?” Shouto gasps when he hears his old teacher.  

“Wh-a-you?” He’s breaking up slightly. “The tracker is on, can you trace it?”  

Shouto grabs your hand. You give it a slight squeeze.  

“Fo-” Silence, completely deafening silence.  

Neither you nor Shouto breathed. Shouta Aizawa had been cut off before he could finish what he was saying.  

“We have to tell the others.”  

[mediocre-stories]

Cold One

TW: mentions of alcoholism, some vulgar language

Authors Note: this my first post on this account. This is based off of Shane’s two heart event from Stardew Valley, I wrote this really fast at 12 am so if anything is jumbled or doesn’t make sense I apologize!! Feel free to leave some constructive criticism and enjoy the story!

It had only been a few months since you had moved to Pelican Town, a small village nestled in between the mountains of Stardew Valley. The community was tight knit, the kind of place where everyone knew everyone. People would smile, wave, and stop to chat with you as you walked along the cobblestone sidewalks. All of your neighbours were so kind, all but one person, one man who you could not decipher.

You had heard from town gossip that Shane was an alcoholic. He’d spend every night drinking his troubles away at the saloon, drowning his thoughts in cold beer. You’d try to talk to him, but you’d be met with glaring eyes and an annoyed tone. That’s why when you saw him on the dock that night, you were hesitant to approach.

You couldn’t sleep, the sounds of crickets was deafening on the usual tranquil silence of your farm. Still in your pyjamas, you slipped on your work boots and headed out the door, needing to wear out your last bit of energy before bed.

You walked south towards the forest, taking in the beauty of the valley. Its oak trees stood tall and firm, the gentle wind making the leaves sway. Small stones crunched under your feet as you walked along the dirt path. You took a deep breath, the air entering your lungs felt so much cleaner than the air in Zuzu City where you used to inhabit.

You enter the forest and hear the soft crack of a can opening. You look out towards the dock. There sits Shane, feet resting in the water, a case of beer beside him. You debate walking by, not knowing if you could deal with his comments tonight, but he spots you and you feel obligated to at least try and chat with him. You walk down the dock, the old wood creaking with every step.

“Mind if I sit?” You ask as you approach him. You fully expect him to tell you off, but instead he shrugs,

“Why not.”

So you sit, removing your boots so you can dip your feet in the water just as he is doing. The lake is cool and the waves lap around your ankles.

“Up late huh?” Shane asks, looking out at the moonlit waters.

“Couldn’t sleep.” You reply.

“Me either. Here,” Shane reaches to his side and grabs a beer. He pops open the tab and hands it to you, “have a cold one.”

“Thanks.” You give a small smile, taking the drink from his hands.

“Buh…life.” Shane groans. Your quirk your eyebrow as you take a sip of your beer, the stale liquid hitting the back of your throat.

There’s a pause before he speaks again, “You ever feel like no matter what you do, you’re gonna fail? Like you’re stuck in some miserable abyss and you’re so deep you can’t see the light of day?”

“I used to feel that way a lot when I worked in the city. The same nine to five, the same shitty co-workers, the same dickhead boss. Moving here helped, but sometimes that feeling still creeps up.” You reply, surprised you’re letting yourself be vulnerable with a stranger, yet, for some reason, you trust him.

“I just feel like no matter how hard I try, I’m not strong enough to climb out of that hole.”

In response you down the rest of your beer. You hear Shane laugh. You look over and see him smiling at you, something you thought was impossible. You take in his features, his dark hair messily covering his forehead, his chubby cheeks sprinkled with stubble, and his sideways grin. When he’s not glaring at you, he’s a good looking guy.

“Heh fast drinker huh?” Shane smirks at you, “You take after my own heart.”

You smile back at him, placing the empty can beside you, he hands you another one. “My party days ended after college, but I still remember a thing or two.”

Shane smiles, then averts his gaze back to the lake, a solum look crossing his face, “Just don’t make it a habit…you got a future ahead of you still.”

“Maybe,” you shrug, “but tonight, I just want to drink.” You raise your can, and Shane clinks it with his, giving you a half smile.

The rest of the hour is spent listening to the soft lull of the waves and looking up at the stars. The two of you sit in silence, but it’s peaceful. Eventually, the drinks run out.

“Welp….my livers begging me to stop. Better call it a night.” Shane stands up, offering out his hand. You take it and he helps you to your feet. Together you begin to walk back to Marnie’s ranch, where Shane lives. When he reaches the door he turns to you,

“Thanks for tonight Y/N, I’ll see you around.”

You smile, “Goodnight Shane.”

[rreskk]

North Yankton Trevor smut. Reader meets Trevor at a strip-joint and he favours her and fucks her doggy style in the dark corner (still in view). Bonus if he's wearing a leather jacket.

Thank you!

NORTH YANKTON TREVOR>>>>> I also included this request down below (As I wanted to merge the two ideas).

Summary: Deep in the North-West, Trevor was growing a bit lonely after his best-friend had found a girl. But he met this lovely waitress and... Well, he got to know her pretty fast.

TW: -Smut

Word count: 4050

Pairings: Fem!reader/Trevor Philips

“Do we really have to see Amanda again?” Trevor muttered as he was dragged into the strip-joint by his best pal, his partner in crime; Michael Townley.

Ever since his friend had caught eyes on a woman (this stripper and prostitute), he grew bored and quite alone. Strip-clubs used to be fun when he had friends who joined him with all the private dances, etc… Now it was just him, and occasionally Brad, but he was unavailable tonight.

“What? You love this place.” Responded Michael. He was simply too smitten to notice Trevor’s distaste of his new girl.

“Yeah, used to.”

“Whatever, bro. I don’t know why you’re mad, I’m paying for your drinks and dances.”

“Oh, yeah. That makes everything much better, Mikey.”

“Don’t Mikey me you little shi – “ Townley was cut off when a feminine voice called his name. Amanda had emerged from the staff room door with a smile. He immediately left Trevor’s side and followed her into the office to presumably fuck (just in a more private manner).

“Fuckin’ Townley.” He’d mumble under his breath and just stroll around the strip-joint. He had zero interest in the women working here. He was merely under the weather, sad, annoyed.

There was a table tucked away in the corner. Luckily the cleaners hadn’t of found it yet so Trevor eased onto the seat and helped himself to the leftover beers and chicken wings. He rubbed the grease onto his leather jacket before gulping the rest of his drink and watched the surrounding strippers move their hips sensually on the stage. Normally he’d be so turned on by this, but he felt nothing.

Trevor frowned and glared down at his crotch. He tried to touch himself through his jean trousers, trying to at least feel something.

“C’mon, you sack of shit.” He huffed and unzipped his flies.

Pulling out his cock, it wasn’t even erected. It just lied softly in his palm. It was pathetic. It made him mad. He wanted to be horny, he wanted to have fun, but here he was… Drinking cheap, leftover beer and wishing he was somewhere else; someone else.

“Excuse me,” A voice interrupted him, “Are you alright?”

Trevor glanced up from his exposed dick and saw you. He squinted his eyes with irritation before ogling your body and figure. There was a random spurt of energy that triggered him. Trevor winced when he caught a reaction from his cock, seeing it levitate slightly.

Even the sight of you was fixing his satisfaction.

“Hey.” He’d respond with a cruel smirk. Many ideas troubled his mind, all revolving around the thought of using you.

“Would you like some drinks?” You’d ask, innocently standing there with some dirty plates and glasses.

Trevor hummed as he thought about it. He nibbled at his bottom lip with concentration before nodding.

“A good beer would be nice, sugar.”

You nodded and went to retreat his cold beverage when he spoke again.

“Are you working here all night?”

“Oh, uh, yes. My shift ends up 4am.” You smiled.

“Ahh… Good, good to know, dear,” He had tucked away his dick, dismissing you with a hand, “Better get to it, girl. The beer ain’t gonna serve by itself.”

You’d apologetically nod, clearly intimated by his brisk orders. It was your job to tend the customers but this guy made you nervous. Many years at this joint, many… Yet he had made your skin crawl.

“Your service is greatly appreciated, sweetheart.” Trevor announced after you returned with his beer. The glass hadn’t of reached the table in time as he snatched it from your hand and gulped.  

“That will be… Uh – “ You were going to pass him the check but he ignored it.

The background music was loud, as always, so you repeated yourself a bit louder. And when you did, he just glared at you.

“I heard you the first time, sweetie. I ain’t paying with cash.”

Bold, you assumed. Very bold.

“I’m sorry sir, but we don’t take credit – “

“I ain’t paying with credit, either.”

“What?” He had left you confused.

Trevor finished his pint and wiped the foam from his stache before grinning at you. He leaned forward, his leather jacket squeaking against the slippery table surface.

“My friends payin’ after he’s done with his girl. Would you mind waitin’ until then?” His tone was all soft, nothing like he was a second ago.

“Oh! Yes, of course. Sorry for the misunderstanding, sir.”

“Don’t sweat it… But before you run off and do your thing, I need to know your name...”

You stared at him with discomfort; too shy to say anything.

“For my friend to pay.” He grinned after making you look stupid.

“Ah… Aha…” It was lucky the place was dark considering you were beginning to sweat profoundly, “The name is [y/n], sir. Would you like me to write it down?”

“Nah. I’ll remember.”

“Well, I hope you enjoy the rest of your night.”

“Could I ask for another favour, [y/n]?” The way he said your name was so… Spiteful, mean, but compassionate and alluring. You nodded and he raised a hand, pointing to the backrooms where the dances were placed.

“The private dancers? Would you like me to find you a worke – “

“I don’t want no random worker, sweetheart,” He scowled when you made a quick assumption, “I’m wondering if you work alongside them.”

“Me?”

“Yeah, you.”

“Oh, I – Umm… I’m not working alongside them, sorry…”

“Really?” Trevor looked surprised, “Why not? You are gorgeous. I guess that means you don’t know a lady called Amanda? Ugly, fat, annoying face and voice?”

“No, no, I don’t, sir.”

“Shame… My guy is back there with her. He’s probably deep inside her pussy by now and he’s just left me all alone…”

You cleared your throat, “That’s not nice – “

“No, it ain’t. Friends don’t leave each other, and I consider you a friend, [y/n]. You wouldn’t leave your good old Trev, right?”

“Trev?”

“Oh!” He cackled, “That’s right, I didn’t introduce myself… Where’s my manners, ay?” It was like he was purposely wasting your time.

“Oh, what’s your name?”

“Trevor Philips, sugar. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” He held out his hand, an offer for a handshake.

You took it, hesitantly. The skin to skin contact was breathtaking. His skin was rough, scabby, smothered with wounds. You were careful not to directly touch a cut as it looked quite painful. Nonetheless, his grip was heavy. Trevor squeezed your hand until he sat back into his seat and ruffled up his mullet.

“You too…” You’d whisper and look down at the hand he just touched. You still felt his skin linger against yours.

“Well? Why don’t you sit?”

“Huh?”

Trevor looked at you through his eyebrows and pointed to the seat beside him. He said only one word that made you comply, and he said it in a meaty, low, grainy croak.

“Sit.”

When you did sit, he didn’t seem to like how stiff and uncomfortable you were.

“What’s wrong with you? I don’t bite, sugar.”

“Oh,” You avoided eye-contact, “I’m just supposed to be working.”

“And? Say you’re on break. You get a 30 minute break, right?”

“Yes, sir.”

“You already had a break today?”

“No, sir.”

He smirked and placed an arm around your shoulders, “Then you’re on break right now, ay? I need some company anyway.”

“I’d need to tell my manager firs – “

“No, you don’t. You don’t need to tell your manager shit, [y/n]. Just stay here, I can entertain your 30 minute break…”

“Sir, I really ought to tell him – “ Every time you had the opportunity to explain how your shift really works, he just throws it down.

“Call me Trevor, sweetie. I ain’t a customer anymore, I’m your friend. Get used to it. I might even make your 30 minutes freedom into a 45, if you’re lucky.” He’d wink.

“Right… Trevor, hah… Uh, there’s just a paper I have to sign when I’m starting my break. All I need to do is sign it.”

Trevor scoffed, “Fine. Sign it then. But don’t take long, I get angry when I’m lonely.”

You gulped and nodded before rushing away.

He watched you leave with a pout. However, his mood quickly changed when noticing his raging boner from his conversation with you. He smiled. He finally felt horny. He really feels it straining in his pants. Trevor subtly stroked his bulge and whimpered when it was sensitive and throbbing.

Now he just needed you to… Cure this occurring illness that’s affecting his well-being.  

“Townley better not finish before I’m done with her.” He grumbled and straighten his posture when he saw you returning. Your hips swayed naturally and your eyes drawn him in. Trevor inhaled and saved himself from being too direct.

“I hope I wasn’t long.” You sat down beside him and adjusted your skirt so it covered your ass when sitting.

“You know…” He studied your facial features, “If I were your manager, I’d put you on the stage. You’re beautiful.”

A small gush of red covered your cheeks. He was still analysing you. It felt pressuring and when you made eye-contact, you’ve come to identify small details about him as well… Like that eyebrow scowl, lip scar, the jaunting cheekbones and sharp jawline. He was handsome. You never took strong insights since he scared you from the start, yet he was oddly attractive despite the rugged state of his hair, clothes, and just overall behaviour. He was nothing but a lost cause.

“Like what you see?” Trevor purred.

Cat caught your tongue? Badly. You instantly looked down in shame, trying to make an excuse for your staring.

“Don’t be shy, [y/n]. It’s not in your job contract to be shy to customers.” He cruelly giggled.

“I thought you were a friend, not a customer.”

“Ohhhh… There she is, the star of the show. Mmm, God, love me a friend in need…”

“Huh?” You blinked.

“Oh, you heard me. I ain’t gonna waste my precious time beating around the bush when I can be buried in your bush in no time, ay?” Trevor smirked.

Your heart rapidly increased. He was still staring at you. He was watching you fluster and squirm in your seat. This guy, this fucking guy. The audacity! You wanted to kick him out, you wanted to kick him out personally, you wanted to kick him into your own bedroom –

“Wooaahh, hello? Earth to [y/n]!”

He shook your shoulder, sitting closer than you remembered.

“Whatcha thinkin’ of?”

“Nothing, nothing.” You tried to dismiss.

“Oh yeah? You got me curious, dear. C’mere, I gotta a bit of an… Issue and you’re the gal for it.” He murmured in your ear, eyes darting around the room like he was hoping the area could clear off.

“What’s the issue?”

Trevor cackled, “Ah, it’s a bit of a sticky situation, my [y/n]. I came here for some fun, as every guy does, and… I didn’t really find any of these lovely ladies interesting.”

You nodded at his words.

“But, oh man… When I saw you, I developed this crazy itch, almost like an ache. It’s a real shame you ain’t dancing for customers because that could honestly be the cure. It is your duty to provide good customer care, right? It’s only a little bit of extra work, maybe I can use my buddies money to throw cash your way.”

You weren’t naive, by all means, you understood what he meant, but… Can you even accept? He was a stranger, a scary one. He left you bombarded with possibilities and “what ifs”.

“It ain’t rocket science, [y/n]. I’m just asking a gal like yourself to help relieve me.” He caught onto your train of thoughts and urged you to accept.

So you sighed, “That is a… Big request, Trevor.”

“You’ll enjoy it as much as I will. It’s mutual effort, sugar.”

“No, I know what you mean. I don’t know… It would be inappropriate.”

“For what? For who? No one gotta watch, only me,” He frowned, “We can go out back or in that dark corner. I’ve noticed no one goes around there, only security and they are out front, right?”

You nodded.

“So what’s the deal? C’mon… You’re a fuckin’ beauty. You don’t understand how refreshing it is to feel so turned on, girl. It’s been fuckin’ days since I’ve had a good jack off or fuck.”

He mentioned giving you extra cash, well, his friend. The pay here was already bad enough and rent was due, so you looked at him in the eye and just nodded.

“Is that a yes?” Trevor smiled.

“I suppose so. Yes. What if your friend comes back? You said he was out back, customers don’t stay there for lon – “

“He ain’t a customer. He’s pining for that fat stripper I was talkin’ about, Amanda. They are together. He usually stays in there for some time, don’t worry, hotstuff. Besides… It’s only a quickie, unless you feel God-like and I have to include a round 2… That’s when your break turns into a 45 minute fuckfest, ay?” God, he was intense with his directness.

“Ohh…” You blushed and glanced down at your hands that were anxiously shaking.

He took them into his own and caressed your palm. He had shuffled a bit closer now, his thigh touching yours.

“What do you look like without a skirt on, anyway?” Trevor whispered in your ear and smirked when you shivered.

He placed your hand down before teasingly fondling your leg, slowly approaching your thigh where the hem of your skirt lied. He tickled your skin until you squirmed.

“Trevor – “ A flustered laugh escaped your red lips.

“I know, I know. I want it too, but first… Can you tease me, sweetheart? I like my women to… Torment me, my dick’s hard but it can be harder…”

“Of course, Trevor.”

“That’s right. I’m easy to please, so do whatever your sexy heart desires.” He leaned back and made sure no one was around, signalling you to begin.

Even though he was the only one watching, it felt like a whole audience. You’d gulp at the thought of so many options open. You wondered what sort of “major” turn on he had, so you thought hard. Reminiscing about your conversation with him, his eyes were constantly peeling on your chest and skirt. It was the most safest option, you couldn’t do something outrageous, especially for a guy like him.

As you decided, you’d give him a little boob tease. Trevor was hunched against his seat with a giddy grin. He went dead silent as you slowly dragged down your shirt collar until the sight of your bra was on display. You’d stroke the top, occasionally moving the bra so a nipple would make an appearance.

He whispered to himself, “Ohh, yeah…” And held a hand over his clothed crotch.

Surprisingly, his low groans were delightful to hear. It encouraged you to carry on earning these non-direct praises. Soon, you had taken off your shirt, your bra draped around your arms, breasts fully on display. Teasing your own nipple, spitting on your left boob, licking whatever you could reach. Every time you looked up, he was intensely focussed. Trevor was aroused beyond belief.

“Keep going…” He’d slur with lust.

That left one other thing to tease with. Your pussy.

It was like you could hear him scream at you. Your fingers tangled with the hem of your skirt, slowly pulling it up to reveal your panties. Trevor had to restrain himself from ruining this foreplay. He wanted you to have fun before it was his turn to play. Yet when he watches you carefully rub your thumb through your underwear, he was already leaking pre-cum with anticipation.

“Fuckin’ finger yourself.” Growled his monotonal, grouchy voice.

“Oh…” You breathed and kicked off your panties. The table, from beside the booth, covered whatever you were beginning to do, so if anyone were to approach, you were only seen shirtless (which was fairly normal in a strip club).

“God, you got such a hot cunt.”

The sight of your pussy fascinated Trevor. You pestered your clit with a finger and gasped out a quiet moan. Now your body was shaking. The clit was so sensitive, so easy to make you break. He studied how your legs jerked whenever you applied more pressure to your finger, aching the poor sector of your pussy.

“Good… Good, nice…” He’d praise.

“Mhm, it feels so nice,” You whimpered to him, “Oh, God…”

“I wanna see you squirt, [y/n], then I’ll see what I can do.”

You wanted more compliments. While you were fingering your clit, an itchy urge to clench onto your breasts were huge. You couldn’t help but slump against the leather sit that touched your bare back. It was so smooth, it reminded you of his jacket. You imagined lying against him, the leather seat being his jacket, pretending that your finger was his. Even though he was beside you, the fantasy had made you finger yourself faster.

“Ohhhh…” Your breath was shaky and threatening to break.

“I love the way you touch your tits, baby.” Trevor grunted, his hand grinding his clothed erection hard.  

“Trevor, ah… Oh, I’m gonna – “

“You better cum on your fingers and lick it. C’mon, show me, I want see.”

“M’kay, baby.” You whined and carried on tormenting your clit until your orgasm was approaching. Arching your back against the leather seat, you cried his name and squirted all over your fingers and hand.

Trevor whistled at your intense climax. His eyes were deadly peeled on the finger that was smothered in cum. His mouth twitched into a sly smirk when you began licking it. He wanted to how good you liked the taste, waiting for you to lick the other fingers.

“Mmmm,” Slurping noises echoed from your booth, “So tasty…”

“Oh, I bet. Your pussy still wet, darling?”

You nodded at him.

“Yeeahhh… That’s what I like to hear. Alright, sugar, I want you to stand up and bend over.”

“Just bend over?”

Trevor giggled and grabbed your jaw with just one hand. He forced you to stare at him as he ordered you more.

“Just bend over on the table, sexy. I’ll take it from there. You don’t have to do a damn thing… Yeah?”

It was weird having a guy not want you to do all these fetishes, dance moves, poses. You were used to seeing strippers cope hard when pleasuring a man. You had a feeling that maybe Trevor wasn’t as bad as you thought.

Your hips were handled and he helped you stand up. Despite being naked, he made you feel comfortable by taking off his leather jacket and draping it around your shoulders. The material set you off. It cuddled your naked skin, pleasuring you without the meaning of penetration. You wanted to thank him but he had already bent you over, the sound of his flies being unzipped.

“I’m gonna make sure Mikey pays you double since you’re being such a good girl for me, sugar.” He praised and kissed the back of your neck before pushing his penis into your vagina from the back. A small whimper escaped his mouth, a sense of relief washing over now that he has you intimately.

“Oh!” You gasped.

“God, your pussy is so wet and loose, you horny little thing, ay? I’m gonna love you…” Trevor thrusted in and out repeatedly.

“Trevor! Ah!”

“Moan a little louder for me, baby, I love your voice.”

“But… But… Oh, fuck!” You cried and dropped your head as he rammed in and out of your pussy, his hips crashing against your ass.

“Keep your head up!” A hand tugged on your hair, throwing it back with a painful cry. Trevor kept his hand there, not letting go. You were moaning profoundly, all these new sensations (that men previously has never given you).

“It’s so good, It’s so good…”

“Ain’t that right?”

“Trevor, fuck… Ah!”

“Who would’ve thought that 20 minutes ago, you were refusing to sit with me.” He giggled and thrusted rapidly. The table shook as you were constantly being rammed against it with great force and power.

His leather jacket – that he made you wear – caused you great heat. You didn’t want to take it off, you refuse. Whenever it was slipping down your arm and back, you’d clench onto it like it would kill you to drop it. It smelt like him as well. Pure cigarettes, weed, booze, and sex.

You were familiar with the scent since the strip-joint was always intoxicated with it.

“You’re so hot wearing my jacket, [y/n]. So fuckin’ hot… God, I’m one lucky guy! Oh, mmm! So good! I just slide right into your slutty cunt, babe. I love it easy and sore.”

“I’m gonna cum! – “

“Easy, princess, easy… I don’t want my waitress done yet, from what I remember… You… Ah… You still got 10 minutes of your break.” He’d pant throughout his words, sometimes pausing to moan.

“Shit, shit…” You gripped onto the table with full intensions of leaving red marks on your hands. Whenever you attempted to lean forward, he pulled your hair back again.

“Keep your fuckin’ head up, [y/n]. I wanna see you moan.”

“I’m tryi – fuck…”

“This is gonna be the best orgasm of my…” Trevor inhaled sharply, “Mmmm, gonna cum, sugar. I’m gonna fuckin’ cum… Shit…”

“Faster, please!” You whined.

You could feel him smirk at your suggestion. Trevor leaned closer, his chest hitting your back, his thrusts growing more heavier and quicker. He was grunting with every hit of your cunt.

“Trevor… Trevor…”

“I’m gonna cum on the jacket and you better keep it, [y/n]. Fuckin’ wear it whenever I next come back here – “ Was the last thing he tried to say before heaving out an exhausting moan, his cock twitching. He managed to pull out in time to squirt his semen all on the leather jacket you wore. Even though it was landing on material, you felt the sensation of something liquid being poured.

“YES, AAHAH!” He moaned as his dick kept on throwing cum at your back. He had heard you whimper and shudder seconds after his ejaculation.

Trevor grew curious and leaned down, checking your pussy and noticing actual cum drip like water droplets. He smirked and lowered his head further before licking away the fluids from your cunt with his wet tongue.

It made you gasp his name, your legs trembling.

“You were right, your cum is fuckin’ tasty.” He’d remark before ascending from under you.

“Ahh…”

“Mhm, you deserve at least $50 for your service tonight, honey.” Trevor groaned and rubbed your naked stomach, kissing down your neck.

“When… When are you gonna come back?”

“Whenever my fuckwit of a bud decides to see his lady during workhours again. Probably sooner than later, [y/n]. And remember – “

“Keep the jacket on.” You weakly said with a smile, proud to have understood his request.

“Atta girl. Don’t wash it either. Wait until that cum stain dries out.” He nibbled your jaw.

“Thanks for letting me keep it…” You cuddled yourself, feeling the leather from it’s sleeves.

“Anything for a beautiful woman, and perfect waitress.”

Doors opened from opposite room, both of you peering over your shoulders. A guy, buzz-cut, jersey jacket, a hand-full of cash. You thought it was a regular customer before Trevor moved away from you.

“There he is, Mikey.”

“That’s your friend?”

“Indeed it is,” He kept a hand on your shoulder, “Stay here. I’ll get the cash.”

You watched Trevor stroll over to his friend before “taking” the load of cash from his hands. That’s an understatement. You cringed when he ignorantly stole it, ignoring Mikey’s cries.

“Enjoy yourself, sweetheart.” Proposed Trevor, shoving the money into your hands until he walked off again, without a goodbye.

Being left leaning on this wooden table with a sore pussy, lack of clothes, cum-stained leather jacket? Hmm, you can’t wait to see his face again.

“Trevor Philips…” You murmured to no one in general, “Well, at least I won’t forget him.” And continued with your shift.