#you know she tried to kill your friends right

[hvnlygrl]

rafe Cameron has started blowing off gf!reader to hangout with his friends like cancelling plans last minute, leaving in the middle of a date, and just ignoring/neglecting her when all she wants is to just spend time with him. And it makes her so sad and insecure and she finally confronts him when he tries to leave their plans and she says "if you don't want me anymore please just say it and stop stringing me along" and just breaks down and he feels terrible, she's the love of his life and he didn't realize what he had been doing and makes it up to her with cuddles gifts breakfast in bed and maybeee some smut

strung along the line.

pairing — rafe cameron x fem!reader

word count — 1.2k

warnings — lotta hurt lotta comfort, near-break up, make-up, fluff

synopsis — after rafe stops putting in enough effort into your relationship, you confront him about stringing you along.

notes — ugh my heart. why are boys so stupid sometimes.

the first time it happened, it stung a little, but you were sure it wasn’t on purpose. rafe didn’t show up to the date, leaving you to sit in the parking lot of the restaurant, tears streaming down your cheeks. it was more disappointment than anything else, but rafe chalked it up to getting caught up with topper and kelce at the paintball place, the date completely slipping his mind. 

you left it at that, opting to give him another chance. he missed that one too, his excuse being something to do with ward and some kook bullshit you didn’t understand. the last time, however, was different. 

the two of you were in the middle of dinner at your apartment. you’d made a home-cooked meal you found a recipe for online, and the two of you sat at the couch, about an hour into a movie you’d been begging him to watch for weeks. he was there, but mentally he was somewhere else. 

it felt like every minute on the minute he was checking his phone or texting someone. as the movie progressed, you became more and more fed up. then you watched him send a text and then look at you, face screaming i hate to do this, but. 

“you’re leaving, aren’t you?” the words only amplify your anger. 

“yeah, the boys wanna go try out topper’s new wave-runners, can we take a raincheck?” it’s almost as if he has no idea how much this hurts. or maybe he just doesn’t care. 

you scoff, shaking your head as you stand from the couch. you pick the plates up from the table and walk into the kitchen without saying a word. you rinse the dishes and place them into the dishwasher, dropping a pod into it and hitting the start button. 

“babe? is it cool if i dip? they’re blowing up my phone right now,” he reiterates from the couch, brows raised expectantly. 

“whatever, rafe,” you shrug emotionlessly as you make your way back to the living room. you curl into yourself on the opposite side of the couch, wrapping yourself in one of the throw blankets as you back out of the movie and put on the show you’d been binging recently. 

“you mad at me?” he asks, confused. 

you let out a wry laugh at that, cutting a glare at him. “what do you think, rafe?” 

“i don’t get why you’re mad, though?” 

“i’m not mad, rafe,” you look at him, eyes watering, “if you don’t wanna be here anymore i’m not gonna hold you hostage.” 

“what?” he cocks his head back at that, “what are you talking about?” 

“dude,” you scoff, ��it just feels like you want nothing to do with me anymore. like every time we have a date or try to hang out you either leave early or just don’t show up and i just-” you can't help the way your voice cracks, “i just can’t keep waiting around for you all the time, rafe. this is killing me, so if you don’t wanna do this anymore just tell me now, okay? stop stringing me along, please.” 

rafe’s face falls with realization, his heart clenching at the look on your face alone. “oh shit, babe,” he starts, expression riddled with regret and agony. “fuck, i’m so sorry, i-i’ve been such a terrible boyfriend lately. it’s not you, i promise you that, i don’t know why i haven’t been putting in enough effort, i just have been so carried away with kelce and topper that i haven’t even noticed what i’ve been doing to you. i’m so sorry, baby. i do wanna be here, more than anything, i want to be with you more than anything.” 

his words send you spiralling a bit, tears flowing more freely now. you sob softly, hands flying up to cover your face. “i just don’t know what to do anymore.” 

“i know, baby,” he can't help the way his own voice cracks this time, “i never meant for it to be this way, please, please just give me one more chance. let me make it up to you, okay? i promise i’ll be a better boyfriend.”

“i wanna believe you, rafe, i really do,” you sniffle, shoulders falling in exhaustion, “but i just don’t think I can anymore.” 

rafe drags his hands over his head anxiously, “c’mon, baby, please. i swear to god, if i fuck up again you never have to see or talk to me again, okay? just let me prove it to you?”

you gnaw at the inside of your cheek for a bit, eyes locked on his bright blue irises. “fine. but don’t make me regret this, okay?”

“i swear i won’t,” he holds his pinky out to yours, waiting for you to link your own pinky with his. once you do, he brings your hand up to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss against your soft skin. 

he texts topper and kelce, telling them to fuck off since he’s at dinner with his girl, and puts his phone on do not disturb. he cuddles into you on the couch, pulling your head onto his chest while his ringed hand rubs soft shapes onto your back. “i love you,” he hums into your scalp before pressing a kiss onto the hair.

“i love you, rafe,” you mutter back, heart panging at his words but aching to believe that it’s true. “more than anything.” 

“more than everything,” rafe retorts before pulling you tighter into his chest, nearly suffocating you in a hug. “i really am sorry.” 

you nod against his chest, feeling the tears well up in your eyes again. you desperately blink them away, hand gripping his t-shirt tightly as you control your breathing. 

you aren’t entirely sure when you fell asleep, or when rafe moved you to your bed. you woke up to the smell of bacon, eggs, and maple syrup. you pulled the charger from your phone and checked the time, a glaring 7:45 shining back at you. 

you scrolled on your phone for a few minutes before rafe made his way to the room with a tray of fruit, tiny pancakes, bacon, and scrambled eggs, just like you liked them. he even went to the store to get you more of your favorite breakfast drink; cranberry juice. 

“bon appetit,” he grinned at you as he placed the tray in your lap. 

“oh my god, rafe, when did you have time to do all this?” you look at him tenderly, heart fluttering at the time and energy he put into your meal. 

“i couldn’t sleep so I went to the store and got some stuff for breakfast,” he shrugs, scratching at the back of his neck awkwardly. “it’s no biggie, plus I know you don’t eat unless someone feeds you most of the time.” 

“that’s an exaggeration,” you huff, “i'm just not hungry most of the time.” 

“yea, well, you still gotta eat, babe,” he shrugs again as he scooches in next to you. “how is it?”

“it looks amazing,” you can practically hear your stomach growling at you just from the smell of the food, much less the sight. after taking a bite of everything on your plate, you look at him, nodding in approval, “it’s delicious.” 

“good,” rafe smiles at you, “i’m glad.” 

once you finish the meal, rafe takes your dishes from you and spends a few minutes in the kitchen as he cleans his mess. once he comes back, he gets comfortable next to you, this time letting you lay your head on his lap as he turns your favorite show on. 

“thank you, rafey,” you hum happily. 

“of course, baby,” he gives your bicep a tender squeeze, “anything for my girl.” 

-> back to masterlist.

rafe cameron taglist -> @lanasb0ngwater @wintersoldierenthusiastt

[littelovelunette]

could you do vi x female reader but they start out as friends and reader is being abused by her bf? vi is there for her and also is secretly in love with her, and one night after reader has a terrible fight with her bf, she runs to vi for protection? maybe they end up together, maybe he dies?

My Hero

Contains angst, mentions of abuse, strangling, blood, possible trauma triggers, violence

"Open the door, please, please, hurry..." You whispered to yourself as you banged on, the only person who could protect you right now, Vi's door.

You both had a disagreement once again and of course it ended with him bashing your head against the wall, strangling you, whipping you with his belt as you pathetically wailed and howled for him to stop. But he didn't.

Thats what was different this time. Usually, he did stop after an extent.

But this time you were gasping for air and bled so much, there were bloodstains all over the kitchen counter and living room rug— signs of struggle and abuse before you made a run for it. For your life.

You could hear your boyfriend pulling up somewhere in the driveway just a few feet away before Vi opened the door.

"Hey, wha—"

You pushed your way inside and shut the door behind quickly locking it with all sorts of locks possible.

Your left eye was bruised and there was blood running down your temples. The hand marks on your neck was a clear sign of strangle struggling.

Your lip was busted as well. Vi's thumb grazed over your cut bottom lip, something akin to sadness in her gaze. "Again?"

She asked before pulling you in for a somewhat painful hug mainly due to all the belt whip marks that you had on your torso.

"Please," you pleaded. "Save me." Your voice was hoarse from all the screaming and begging he had put you through which was pointless as you thought back to it. It's not like he stopped.

"How bad is it this time?" Vi asked before she helped you seat yourself at the dining chair.

"Awful." You said wincing as Vi gave you an ice pack for your head. "He tried to kill me. He choked me so hard and I really thought I died then. I had to run away because he wasn't stopping even after I passed out for like... I don't know, 20 minutes into the abuse?"

Vi knelt down, hands holding yours.

"Sweetheart. I've tried to tell you so many times to leave him, I don't know why you never listen to me."

"You don't understand. I need someone to keep myself in check. Sometimes I'm a threat to myself because of how much I struggle mentally and I can't afford therapy— you know that." You reasoned and your voice was shaky as you did, you were probably seconds away from passing out.

"I'm here." Vi said before pausing and adidng. "I love you. I do."

"I love you, too." Your eyes softened before Vi cut in.

"No, not like that. Not platonic. Not anymore. I'm sorry, I have to tell you but—... We've been friends for like eight years now and everytime I've seen you get into a relationship, getting all giddy and happy, I didn't know why I was the one sulking. But I've come to terms with it, I don't sulk because I feel bad for not having a significant partner. I want to me to be YOUR significant partner." Vi looked down before she looked back up at you, blue eyes filled with so much love.

"Vi..." You whispered, hand slowly shifting to cup her face.

"I know. You're straight and you don't feel the same way. I didn't wanna tell you because I didn't want our friendship to get fucked up like this, but— look, I'm sor—" she began but then she was cut out when you smashed your aching swollen lips against hers.

Vi's hands came to grab your wrists as she kissed you oh-so passionately, tasting the iron like taste of your blood with so much love that you'd think she was a vampire.

But the truth was something that was now transparent and uncovered to the both of you. She loved you. You loved her. There was no abusive boyfriend about to stop that now.

You both took a moment to bask in the love you both agreed to share before Vi got up and looked at you with a pointed smirk.

"Want me to take care of him?"

You knew exactly that Vi's taking care meant and you weren't gonna lie— it was hot, heroic and just fitting for the dynamic the both of you shared.

A damsel in distress and a knight in shining armour.

Cliché, but real.

"My hero." You said, despite all your pain and past suffering you managed to smile back at her, but this wasn't teasing. It was genuine.

Just like her love for you.

[sentowritesstuff]

This last point is very true. Every time I watch a straight romance movie I’m like “Wait when did that happen, where was the buildup? Where the deep emotional connection? The moments fraught with sadness and deep vulnerability from both sides? Oh, straight people aren’t allowed to do that? You guys suck.”

Bucky and Steve had so many moments like that.

Steve and Peggy… well, they kissed once before he crashed a plane into the ice because he just lost his best friend to what he assumed was a horrible demise.

Sure, she supported him, but there were very few deep conversations. “Oh, yeah, I’m lonely but I’ll pretend it’s not because girls just don’t like me.” “Oh, that’s nice, that’s cute. I like your excuse. It’s sweet and appeals to my emotions.” Some of that was definitely true, but I think what he meant by “waiting” was just “first person who looks at me” when he’s actually just shit at noticing when people look at him because at the Stark Expo, Bucky literally had two girls and a flying car right there and instead he looked at Steve. Steve just didn’t notice.

Peggy is great, don’t get me wrong, but most of her support came only when Steve was grieving, which is what friends are supposed to do anyway. And obviously it didn’t help very much because he still tried to kill himself and disguise it as martyrdom. She supports his stupidity, which… while I know it’s out of respect, is also the exact opposite of what Bucky does. If Steve does something stupid, Bucky goes “That’s a terrible idea, I know I can’t stop you but if you leave my side AT ALL during this endeavor, god help me—“

And I could rant forever but I won’t.

Case in point: Steve was given an opportunity to mentally heal alongside his traumatized best friend who he just got back after losing like two or three times. It was moving forward. It was progress. It was a sign that things can get better.

But instead they were like “Let’s have him literally go backward for this woman he knew for like two, three years at best. Maybe four if we’re generous.”

Because straight people! Screw your mental health, you’re not supposed to be happy anyway, silly. That’s just a lie the government tells you to make you trust them.

another kick in the face of that endgame ending is that all the people who relate to steve and his mental illness and his journey and wish they could go back might have found solace in watching steve learn and grow and accept that you can’t go backwards. so his ending basically being like BUT WHAT IF I DID ANYWAY? it’s telling people dealing with regret and mental illness that there is no hope for you in the future, the only solution is to never get over it, because you will never be happy.

[zorange13]

— enhypen as boyfriends

enha x poc reader (only rly jay's part but not many other descriptors)

did this on a whim, i just wanted to feel something idk. i’ve been starving you guys so hopefully y’all fw this til i pull myself together!!

2.5k words; not proofread sigh…

cw: suggestive content (only for hee at the very end), humane flaws, that's it i think lmk if i missed something!!

 lee heeseung

protective

heeseung isn’t controlling, not at all. he’s never going to try to get you to not wear what you want. nor is he going to get jealous of guys liking your posts. he’s very big on knowing who he’s with and not trying to change a baddie. he respects your independence!!

still, he knows that some people are weird and that not everyone has your best interest. so he will always do his best to ensure that you’re safe. holding your hand extra tight in crowded areas, having you walk next to or in front of him at all times, always looking your way when you guys are apart but in the same room—just to make sure you’re comfortable.

very masculine—but very secure

this might sound crazy, but heeseung is like one of the straightest men i’ve ever seen. he genuinely loves women so much—namely, you—that nothing pleases him more than being an equal counterpart for your femininity. you don’t touch doors, you don’t carry things, your feet don’t touch anything wet, if your feet hurt he either gives you his shoes or carries you.

he buys you perfume to match his cologne so you’ll turn heads together. he’ll let you paint his nails and do face masks and swatch makeup on him because that’s what he’s there for. why not? he’s never going to tell you no.

however, heeseung is…

prideful

don’t neglect what i said about him being very masculine; what comes with masculinity—a lot of the time—is pride. 

heeseung hates being wrong, hates looking stupid, and if you guys are arguing and you start making sense then he just goes quiet…because really what can he do? you just ate him up!! but he’s wrong. but he’s gonna pout, cross his arms, smack his teeth, clench his jaw, nodding like he’s really minding what you’re saying. but it’s not like he’s not hearing you—he just doesn’t want to catch an L because that’s really hard for him to do for some reason. and don’t let you hear him shut down and you be like, “oh, ok…that’s what i thought.” 

it would take everything in him to not crash out but it’s ok!! give him a minute and he’d apologize. it would kill him to admit it but, when you’re right…you’re right. and he knows that you would do the same thing if it was the other way around. “i’m sorry, you were right and i love you.” because as much as it wounds his pride, he cares more about making things right with you. nothing matters more than you. once you accept his apology, he’s pulling you in for a hug and taking you out or even making it up to you in other ways…

park jay

thoughtful

jay is always thinking of you—for everything. he’s always considering you and has you in mind for everything he does. if he sees that your curl cream is running low, he’ll get it the next time he’s out. he sees your glass of water getting empty, he fills it up. but also just things that can make your life the slightest bit easier, he’ll pick out your outfits, help you do your hair the night before—he tries but most times you’ll just tell him you got it because he really has no idea what to do. but he’ll sit and watch you do it so he can keep you company. besides that, he makes decisions with you in mind and wonders how it would affect the relationship. if his friends want to hang out, he’s like, “does she need me for the night?” if he’s making plans for the weekend, he’s wondering, “would she enjoy my little itinerary?” he just does this because he wants you to be happy at all times no matter what.

so loyal

this man is as loyal as can be, he only sees you. the thought of being with other women repulses him and he does not entertain that shit. if he sees some girls in his comments doing a lil too much he is not scared to block, delete a comment, or even let you comment if you feel so bold. 

“raw and deep juseyo” “ntm girl…” 

but yes, jay does not play. although it’s not like he’s disrespectful to other women. he’s nice to strangers, he’ll hold doors and help if he sees someone struggling but not to the extent where he’s going to let it go inappropriately further. just don’t disrespect him or his relationship and he’s good. 

however, jay tends to…

internalize and compartmentalize

he is way too good at being calm and rational. so much to the point where he struggles to be vulnerable or even address things that bug him. if you do something like make a joke he doesn’t like, he won’t say anything to you to correct it. then you keep making that joke or something within the same subject matter, soon during an argument—or even during some type of conversation, he just snaps. or he’ll throw it in your face and you’d just be confused. 

“why are you so upset?” “i don’t know” he does. he’s just been holding it in for 3 months. he’s there for you emotionally, no problem. as you are for him, but when it comes to dealing with his own emotions, he’s just not totally there yet. 

sim jaeyun

such a genuine sweetheart

everything that he was when you met him is who is now. jake doesn’t change up, doesn’t try to do anything to make you second guess him and his intentions. he loves on you so hard and genuinely will sit and write you a list of what he did for the day and all of the moments he’s thought about you during it. not to mention just how warm he is, he feels like such a ray of sunshine for you that there’s no amount of happiness to replicate how you guys feel with each other. it’s disgusting…

shows you off

he posts you, comments on all of your posts just so people know who he’s lucky enough to have pulled. being a boyfriend is a full-time job and it pays well, so with that he’s always talking about you. even when he’s not physically with you, he's talking about you. “you said you liked my shirt? yeah my wife got it for me.” “jake, you’re not even married.” “not yet but like…”

he just loves you so much and feels so honored to be in your world. it would honestly be a disservice to not show you off to the universe and remind God of the beauty He created.

however, jake is…

too trusting for his own good

jake genuinely tries to see the good in people. he believes that the whole world isn’t totally plagued with losers and weird people but sometimes that’s not the case. he’ll give everyone the benefit of the doubt—even people who clearly don’t deserve it. you could be like, “babe, don’t you see it? he’s using you.” “no…he’s just going through a rough time.” it’s so sad seeing him be so naïve but he usually doesn’t realize until it’s way too late. even then he’d still try to see their side, “yeah he might have stolen all of my money and got a foreclosure on my house but, maybe he deserved the money more than i did.”

park sunghoon

consistent and forthright

sunghoon doesn’t do weird situationships. if he likes you, he likes you and that’s it. he’s going to put in the effort, remind you of who you are to him and you’d see what he feels that way. no unnecessary jealousy, no breadcrumbing, no trying to make you “earn” him—because he’s the man wtf. none of that, he just enjoys you and spoiling you. he loves showing you his affection in the ways that he can.

actually funny, but never intentionally

hoon isn’t much of a talker. even jake said if he were to go on vacation with a member it’d be him because he doesn’t say much. but when he’s in a playful mood, hoon will express that. also sometimes he’ll just say things with a straight face and you just burst out laughing. sometimes his reactions to things will even make you laugh. like if you trip or something he’ll just look at you and be like “damn that’s crazy…you alright?” and reach his hand out to help you and make sure you aren’t hurt. just the walking embodiment of “this life thing is happening to him” rather than him just doing life.

however, sunghoon…

struggles with verbal affection

like i said, he’s not much of a talker. so the best way for him to show love and affection is through acts of service and physical touch, anything else sort of makes him uncomfortable. so if you’re the type who needs verbal affirmations to sustain your end of the bargain then you might be frustrated. granted, there’s no doubt in your mind that sunghoon loves you. you know that for a fact, but sometimes he just assumes that and that you just know because of what he does for you.

he might not go on for long speeches about how much he loves you, but he always wants you to know—and you do—how you’re safe, loved, and cared for when you’re with him.

kim sunoo

social butterfly

everyone loves him. family, friends, strangers, it doesn’t matter. he makes you feel so comfortable to be around him to the point where if you guys are at a function and you feel awkward, just stick with him and you’re good. this is so important because it can help when you’re feeling overwhelmed and he’ll just subtly tell you to go decompress, especially if you’ve used up your social battery for the night. 

expressive and affectionate

he’s not afraid to love you out loud. hand-holding, social media praise, hyping you up, giving you physical affection, anything that he can do he does it. “you’re so gorgeous…it’s almost making me sick. how dare you?” love to him is to be expressed in a kind way and it’s meant to be shown and felt and you guys do that for each other all the time. 

however, sunoo can be…

a little too honest

ok so he doesn’t always mean to do this. but he’s never been the type to lie, which comes in handy for when you do in fact need the cold, hard truth. but in normal interactions, you’d be like, “be honest, do you like this outfit?” and he’s just standing there, blinking. “i mean…it’s not your best.” it’s never meant to be mean, but if you’re sensitive, it might hurt. if he notices your mood drop, he’ll immediately be like, “WAIT, i didn’t mean it like that! you still look cute!!” but sometimes the damage will already be done, and you would have to have a talk with him about his delivery.

yang jungwon

reliable and responsible

you’ve never met someone more reliable than this guy. when you’re in a pinch, he’s there. when you need to get picked up because you missed your bus, he’s either sending money for a cab or driving you himself. he just handles things and even though you worry about him taking on things that he isn’t technically responsible for, he wears it with pride. to him, having a boyfriend means he should encourage you to stay on top of your shit. reminding you of appointments, deadlines, or making a plan when you’re both lost in the middle of nowhere (because, unlike you, he actually read the directions). he just gets it done and he never makes you feel like a burden.

playful, but he doesn’t do too much

when jungwon laughs, he laughs. with his entire gut and it can feel good when you’re making him laugh. but not when he’s laughing at you. either way, won is quick, witty, and just the right amount of annoying. so he would poke fun at you and not in a way that hurts your feelings, just in a way that you be like “shut up,” and try not to laugh at whatever he’s saying. he loves to make you flustered though, if he does then he’ll for sure lean into it because he’s usually always the one smitten by you.

however, jungwon can be…

too self sufficient

he’s so independent and used to taking care of others that he just doesn’t know how to ask for help. being so used to handling his own stuff makes him feel better because it means he’s not burdening you. but…that’s what you’re here for! to be there for him when he needs it. but sometimes when he’s stressed or upset he’d keep it from you and it’s not because he doesn’t trust you, he just doesn’t want to add to your list of things to worry about. which can cause some friction sometimes and you truly just wished he would let you in more. 

nishimura riki

actually your best friend

i see riki wanting to actually build friendship and camaraderie with someone before anything. so when you guys do get there and things turn romantic, it’s the best thing ever to have a boyfriend and best friend in one. you want to watch the new season of love island with someone? you’re having a sleepover. one of you guys did some shit for the plot? immediately a 3-hour debrief session. he’s such a ride or die and nothing gets boring with him around. so if you ever want to go on a spontaneous adventure, or make a ridiculous joke, you always turn to him. riki is your man but he’s also your stupid ass best friend and that makes life so much more enjoyable.

flirty, even when he’s got you

the chase doesn’t stop once he gets you and you love that. the fact that he still makes you feel so wanted so deep into the relationship is honestly the glue. if anything, the flirting has cranked up a notch and that only makes things exciting, it keeps things fresh. even after the honeymoon phase, he’s still kissing you, pulling out the red carpet, bragging about you, complimenting and praising you. this makes y’all’s dynamic so much more fun and intimate when you guys—especially him—are still showing interest in each other. 

however, riki can be…

a little too nonchalant

though i firmly believe he was a nonchalant dreadhead in his past life, riki sometimes can come off as nonchalant when he’s really just easygoing. it’s not that he doesn’t care, he just can’t always gauge whether you’re being serious or not. he’ll laugh things off when you say you want to have a serious conversation and while he thinks he’s cheering you up, you just want validation in whatever it is you’re feeling. it’s a way he protects himself from getting too deep or emotional, but it’s not always the best approach for handling the serious stuff between you two. sometimes you have to call him out on it for him to realize that not every situation can be brushed off with a laugh.

Copyright: © zorange13. 2024. All rights reserved. Do not repost, copy, or distribute without permission.

[hyunjuenthusiast]

BITTERSWEET (PART 4)

Summary: Y/n has always been sweet to everyone, no matter their background or their appearance. So what happens when Y/n is sweet to the wrong person?

Pairing: Yandere!Cho Hyun-ju x femreader!

Warnings: Yandere tendencies, stalking, mention of murder. obsession, angst, use of a firearm, violence.

PREVIOUSLY

She tries with all her strength to get the bathroom window open, but it won't budge. She allows herself to cry. Only to jump when she hears a loud pop.....

It was a gunshot.

NOW

Y/n doesn't hear anything after that. The silence being worse than the sound of the gunshot. She could feel her heart beating out of her chest, but she didn't dare open the door.

She doesn't know how long she stood there, or how much time had passed before she jumped out of her skin at the loud banging at the door.

"Y/n open the door!" Mary said frantically. But Y/n didn't budge, she didn't know if Mary had been shot... or if Mary was the one with the gun.

When Y/n heard keys jingling, she decided to open the door before Mary could do it herself.

There was no blood, no wound. There was, however, a gun. in Mary's left hand.

Y/n looked at Mary sacredly, not knowing what to expect. "Come on we have to go!" Mary says, grabbing Y/n's hand, dragging Y/n to the guest room. Mary quickly began opening the window.

Y/n didn't take Mary's hand when it was offered to help her out of the window. "I'm not going anywhere with you!" Y/n shouts. Mary gives her a desperate look.

"Did you shoot her?" Y/n asks, her voice trembling. Mary gives her a soft glare. "I had to, she was going to kill you." She says, making Y/n falter. Hyun-Ju might be mentally unstable, but she had never physically hurt Y/n. Hyun-Ju had sworn up and down that she would never harm Y/n.

Y/n looks at Mary suspiciously, no matter how crazy Hyun-Ju is, murder seems so extreme. "She's not dead, we have to hurry!" Mary says, extending her hand once more.

Y/n backs away. "Not until you explain." Y/n says her voice trembling. "Hyun-Ju isn't who she claims to be, Y/n. She's evil, she's a murderer." Mary explains. Y/n tenses.

"W-What?" she whispers. Mary swallows thickly. "You are not her first victim, Y/n. There have been many others. Hyun-Ju is an obsessive narcissist, and she will stop at nothing to get what she wants. And right now, what she wants, is you."

Y/n can feel her hands start to shake, but Mary keeps explaining. "I'm not a police officer, Y/n. I'm part of the Federal Bureau of Investigations."

Y/n furrows her brows. "You're an FBI agent?" Mary nods in response. "I-Is your brother really sick?" Y/n asks, her eyes filling with tears. Mary sighs. "I don't have a brother." Those words make Y/n's stomach drop.

"T-Then why would-" Mary interrupts her. "She needed a way to make sure she could always find you if you were to escape." Y/n looks down. Mary betrayed her for no reason at all then.

"She doesn't know I joined the bureau. She couldn't know, it would have jeopardized all of our evidence so far." Mary explains.

"Evidence?" Y/n asks. Mary hesitates, knowing they don't have a lot of time. "Y/n... has Hyun-Ju ever mentioned the name Young-Mi?" The girl that died in the supposed games? "Yeah... she told me she was a friend, who was killed i-in the games..."

Mary chuckles bitterly. "The games." Mary whispers. "They were stopped years ago, but they did exist. Hyun-Ju wasn't lying about that. But Young-Mi survived the games too, along with Hyun-Ju."

Y/n tenses. "W-What? But-" Mary interrupts her again. "Young-Mi died after the games, Y/n. Not during." Mary says. "Her and Hyun-Ju moved here, to Thailand after they got out, and they lived here for two years before..."

Y/n's breath hitches. "Before what?" she whispers, dreading the answer. "Before Hyun-Ju killed her." Mary whispers tearfully. Y/n's blood freezes.

Mary sees the look on Y/n's face and knows that she has to tell Y/n the full truth. No sugar coating it. "Young-Mi's cause of death was caused by sixty-four stab wounds, Y/n. Hyun-Ju stabbed Young-Mi Sixty-four times, and buried her body in a private cemetery."

Y/n looks at Mary, absolutely terrified. She can't speak, can't think, can't move. "Hyun-Ju wanted to get married, to Young-Mi, but Young-Mi wasn't ready..."

Y/n shakes her head, denial coursing through her veins, her breaths coming out short and panicked. "Y-You're lying." Y/n whispers. "I wish I was, Y/n."

"The investigation has been ongoing for seven years..." Mary says, looking away, unable to meet Y/n's eyes. "Because Young-Mi wasn't the only victim."

Y/n's ears ring. she squeezes her eyes shut, shaking her head. Mary apologizes again and again, begging Y/n to take her hand, they needed to leave. Right now.

Y/n's legs almost give out, having to sit on the bed. "H-How many... How many h-have there been?" Y/n asks' her eyes red and tearful. Mary hesitates.

"Over the last seven years there have been nine victims." Mary says, her eyes remorseful. Y/n lets out a cry, reaching a Shakey hand up to cover her mouth.

"Y-Young-Mi wasn't the first... there were two more before her." Mary explains. "The first victim was Eun-Ji, Hyun-Ju met her during her transition. Hyun-Ju set her house on fire while Eun-Ji and her family were inside." Y/n sobs.

"Then it was Lee-Na, Hyun-Ju stalked and killed her years after Eun-Ji. Lee-Na's cause of death was also a stabbing."

Y/n shakes her head, how could this be real. Was it real?

"Young-Mi was next, then Hyun-Ju moved to the United States after leaving Thailand. The next victim was named Sabrina. She was strangled to death."

"Hyun-Ju stayed in the United States for a while after that. Meeting Two other victims. Shay and Willow. Shay died in a car crash and Willow's cause of death was through drowning. Someone had held her head under water for eighteen minuets."

Mary takes a shakey breath. "After leaving the United States, Hyun-Ju moved to Cuba, that's where she met Ana." Mary hesitates again. "Ana's death was the most brutal. The most personal. A-After Hyun-Ju had found out that Ana was sleeping with another woman... Hyun-Ju didn't kill Ana right away. She made sure Ana felt pain before she died. But ultimately Ana's cause of death was a gunshot to the head."

"After that Hyun-Ju settled back in Thailand for a while. Here is where she met the other two. The first was Amara and Hyun-Ju killed her with a pillow. T-The last was..."

Both women jump as they hear Hyun-Ju start banging on the door. She was obviously in pain from the gun wound in her abdomen. "Y-Yn please, d-don't listen to her, s-she's just trying to scare you away from me, i-it's not like that." Hyun-Ju begs.

By now Y/n is sobbing. Scared and confused. Mary looks shaken, desperate to leave. "P-Please baby, let me explain, please open the door" Hyun-Ju asks, her tone gentle despite her injury.

"You know I would never hurt you." Y/n could tell Hyun-Ju was crying. But she wasn't going to open the door, if what Mary was saying is true,,, Y/n was in danger.

Y/n looks to Mary. "If you have all this evidence, why is she still free? Why isn't she rotting behind bars?" Y/n asks. Mary sniffles. "She has money, Y/n. A lot of it. we haven't been able to keep a case liable in court because she pays everyone off"

Hyun-Ju continues banging painfully on the door, begging Y/n to let her explain. "How does the FBI know? H-How did the case appear?" Y/n asks.

Mary has tears falling down her face, looking at Y/n with so much fear, so much desperation.

"B-Because I was the last Victim." Mary whispers.

LAWD HAVE MERCY?! What did we think. That cliffhanger is crazy.

[ghostxrose]

𝑫𝒊𝒆 𝑭𝒐𝒓 𝒀𝒐𝒖 | 𝑩𝒂𝒌𝒖𝒈𝒐 𝑲𝒂𝒕𝒔𝒖𝒌𝒊 𝒙 𝑹𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

Part One |

Summary ~ The news of you getting killed in action hurt Katsuki far worse than any villain ever could, than any villain ever has, and he’s died before. But when the details, or lack thereof, of your death reach Katsuki’s ears, there’s too many things that don’t add up. So, while avidly ignoring the concerned words of his friends telling him to grieve and try to move on, Katsuki starts his own investigation into your “death.” Where exactly this path will lead him, he isn’t sure, but he’s hoping it’s back to you.

Tags/Warnings ~ Fem!Reader, canon-typical violence, character death (kinda🤭), undercover work, angst, eventual fluff, slight themes of body/image/identity dysmorphia/derealization, shady HPSC tingz, more tags to come as the story develops..

Note ~ Hi Lovelies, it's been awhile..😅 Anywho, this is the fic from this teaser that I posted almost two months ago, heh.. Please know that I love and appreciate all of you!! Hope you all enjoy the read! <3 <3 <3

Ps, if the summary sucks, I'm sorryyy. It might be temporary because I kinda hate it, but I didn't want to give away too much🥲

“No one can know, Ms. L/N. Absolutely no contact at any point. Not with your friends. Not with your family. Not with your fiance.” The HPSC Director’s stern tone is almost as hard as the steely look in their eyes.

“I understand, Director-” You firmly assure, forcing confidence and determination to hide the fear lingering beneath.

“I should hope so. Just remember that you signed up for this willingly.” The Director cuts you off with their daunting words, something in their tone sending an unpleasant shiver of fear down your spine…

𖤛 𖤛 𖤛

“She’s gone..”

Katsuki can remember those damned words being sputtered by your stupid fiance clear as day. He remembers how he was reluctantly dragged by Kirishima to the apartment you shared with that lame-ass extra on the basis that he needed to discuss something with everyone. “Everyone” meaning the group of people that you had been friends with since UA. People that extra was only friends with because he was in a relationship with you.

“I said, she’s gone..”

Your dumb ass fiance had repeated in response to Katsuki’s disbelief-ridden question. But he still hadn’t quite understood what your fiance had meant. Where had you gone? On a mission? On a vacation? Did you run away as a means of breaking up with this extra that you had claimed you loved? Katsuki was struggling to understand why so many people around him had dissolved into tears.. Or maybe he hadn’t wanted to understand.

“-she’s dead..”

Kirishima had dumped the ice-cold reality of your fiance’s words over Katsuki with a hand on his shoulder and a teary, sympathetic look on his face. Clarity had run through him like an electric shock, and for just a moment, his normal facade had cracked. But the only person who had seen the anguish was Kirishima seconds before Katsuki shoved his best friend’s hand off his shoulder and stormed out of the apartment.

Everything had felt so surreal and suffocating, and he was panting by the time he had burst out of the main doors of the apartment complex. All he wanted was to go home to his own apartment where he could feel his feelings in private, but Kirishima had driven. So, he started walking, staring ahead blankly as the cold winter air bit at the exposed skin of his face and neck. Unfortunately, the cold had done nothing to wake Katsuki from the nightmare he had been so sure he was having.

Since that day, Katsuki has been repeatedly going through the five stages of grief. Every time he thinks he’s finally accepted that you’re gone, that feeling of something being off with this whole situation pulls at the back of his mind and sends him right back to the denial stage. He tried to talk to Kirishima, Midoriya, and Ashido about it, but they just looked at him with such pity and sadness that it made his skin crawl. He still doesn’t understand how everyone else has just accepted that you’re gone. Even your dumb fiance accepted your death without question and has moved on to a new relationship. However, the fact that the extra was able to move on so fast just makes Katsuki wonder even more just why you had ever wasted your time with that loser.

Katsuki’s therapist believes that the reason for his setbacks in the grieving process, along with his feeling of something being off, is due to the regret he feels. Regret for never telling you how he felt about you. Regret for letting you waste your time, effort, and love on some sleazebag who only ever just gave you the bare minimum. But his regret isn’t the source of this feeling sitting like a rock in his gut, at least, not in his opinion.

His suspicions started a few months after your death when he had asked your fiance for the full story behind what had happened to you. The guy told Katsuki that he was contacted by the HPSC, and they told him that you had been killed in action. That was Katsuki’s first red flag. Typically, HPSC officials would go to the home of the next of kin, and deliver the news of their loved one’s passing that way. The fact that they had called your fiance is extremely weird.

The second red flag that had been raised in Katsuki’s mind came after he had asked your fiance if anyone from the HPSC had come by to bring him in to identify your body. Your fiance had given Katsuki a strange look as he shook his head. He told Katsuki that he was only given the address to the funeral home where he had picked up your ashes. It had taken everything in Katsuki to not make a face at your fiance, he was truly astounded that someone could be so blindly trusting. Then again, the majority of the population isn’t aware of the kind of shit that the HPSC pulls in the name of “good”.

The last red flag that caught Katsuki’s attention and pushed him to believe that something was definitely off about your sudden death, he found on his own. He had stayed late at his agency, waited for everyone to leave, and spent the night in his office searching through every reported crime that had been made in the area of your patrol route from the day you supposedly died. The area you had patrolled that day has always been known for being pretty sketchy with the crime rates and villain activity there being pretty high. Even so, you were a very capable hero, it’s one of the reasons why Katsuki admired you so much. He knew that you could have handled yourself in nearly any situation.

When Katsuki had finished reading through the nearly 60 reports made that day of nothing but low-level activity in that area, it was pretty much confirmed in his mind that there was something that the HPSC was hiding. As he had sipped on what was probably his fifth coffee, he couldn’t tell if he was moving further away from or moving closer toward becoming the “string-covered-conspiracy-theory-board” guy.

𖤛 𖤛 𖤛

Sitting at his desk, Katsuki lets out a heavy sigh as he fights the urge to rub his tired eyes because he knows that’ll just irritate them further. Finishing up his written patrol report, he pushes it off to the side, mentally assuring himself that he’ll file it away properly later. He slides his keyboard closer to himself and hits the space bar to wake his computer, then types in his password when prompted. One hand shifts over to the mouse, and he opens the database program. He goes through the process of uploading a clear photo of your face, then hits the button. It’s not long before he’s zoning out while staring at the rapidly changing faces in the small window next to your photo.

He’s done this every day since his doubts about you being dead surfaced. He’s never gotten a single hit, but he can’t stop running the program. He can’t stop any of his efforts to find you because just the thought of giving up and accepting that you’re gone makes his chest feel so tight that he can’t breathe. He doesn’t care how long it’s been or how long it’ll take, you’re out there and he will find you.

Even if it has been two years.

Two. Fucking. Years.

It’s been two years since you died. Two years since your (ex)fiance held a private “Celebration of Life” for close friends and family. Two years since the HPSC announced your death to all of Japan. Two years since a public vigil was held so that the country could come together to honor your memory.

Two years since everybody so easily ate up a ridiculous lie without question.. everybody except Katsuki.

“Pretty sure your therapist suggested that you stop doing this, man..” Kaminari’s voice coming from right next to him forces Katsuki back into reality.

“Fuck off, Dunce. You don’t know shit about what my therapist says.” Katsuki growls out, shoving Kaminari away from him and into Kirishima.

“I overhear what you tell Kiri sometimes..” Kaminari admits under his breath before realizing that maybe he shouldn’t have if the death glare on Katsuki’s face is anything to go by.

Once he feels that Kaminari is properly shaken, Katsuki lets the matter go, for now, with a heavy sigh, “What are you extras even doing here? Go home.” He mutters, giving into the urge to rub his face while leaning forward and bracing his elbows against the desk.

“C’mon man, you know why we’re here.. Go get changed, then we can drive over together,” Kirishima says gently, carefully, like Katsuki is an unwilling child. It pisses Katsuki off for a multitude of reasons. The main one is that there’s a difference between acting petulant about going somewhere and refusing to attend some stupid annual dinner to honor someone who isn’t even dead.

Katsuki’s lip curls as he lets out a sigh of frustration, and he leans back in his desk chair, sending a look to Kirishima, “This shit ended in disaster last year. I don’t know why any of you thought it would be a good idea in the first place to bring a group of grieving people out to their “dead” friend’s favorite izakaya. Why try to make a tradition out of ugly crying and public intoxication? How is that ‘honoring Y/N’s memory’-”

“Jesus, dude.. maybe you would understand it if you just accepted that she’s gone already!” Kaminari snaps uncharacteristically, making Katsuki pause his rant to stare at him in shock as the electric blonde rushes out of the room.

Kirishima let out a tired sigh, watching Kaminari’s retreat before looking back to Katsuki with a not-so-subtle hint of disappointment in his eyes, “Come or don’t come, Katsuki, it’s up to you. Just don’t judge how the rest of us decide to heal.” Kirishima says quietly before walking out of the room.

Katsuki lets out a low growl through gritted teeth as he scrubs a hand over his face. He leans back in his desk chair and glares at the computer screen. Guilt bubbles in his stomach from upsetting his friends, much to his frustration. He doesn’t want to go to that stupid izakaya. He wants to stay here in his office like he does every night continuing his search for any signs of you. He watches the database program sift through faces for a moment longer before cursing softly and standing from his chair.

Divider credit ~ @eyes-and-wings-and-a-gifted-halo

[zepskies]

@lamentationsofalonelypotato

Omg, hey friend! I'm so excited to see what you thought of all the angsty dancing!! loll 😜

First I want to say that I am here for the reader rifling through Michael's drawers, YES girl, channel Daphne for Dean!! But I really love this little bit here because of the way you described Michael's gaze on her. Yes, we hate Michael... but goodness it was such a wonderful poetic line and all I want is that 😭

Hahaaa I love that comparison! And yeah, believe it or not but there was a time when Michael wasn't a total dick. (And even now, he thinks he loves his wife.) How he looks at her is how I wish my future husband would look at me. *dreamy sigh*

It's so good because my mind immediately shot to the idea that Dean is already subconsciously comparing the women/girls he's going out with to the reader. And on the inside I was doing this:

lol YES, thank you for catching that! Dean's having his fun, but subconsciously he knows there's something missing there -- that intellectual connection between equals, or at least someone who can hold a real conversation with you.

The boys running into the reader at the club was so wonderful, and there's really something beautiful about the way you build the scene with the dancing, the drinking, the people playing cards, and the description of the outfit the reader wore is stunning! I love the dark lipstick, dress, hat combo that shields her face is just everything I want- but above all, I really loved the banter you had between the reader and Dean. The give and take with the dialogue is beautiful. This piece especially, because I literally needed to take a moment after reading it and the way Dean looked at the reader. 👀

Oh my goodness thank you! I really concentrated on creating that ambiance inside the club, trying to make it feel visceral and true to the era. 💖 And you know I love me some witty banter/sexual tension loll. 😏 That moment in particular was fun, because Dean doesn't know that she knows he's been running around all over town with all these women, but she's attracted to him anyway, just like he's attracted to her. ❤️‍🔥

Oh my word IT'S HAPPENING!!! The tension! 😱 Also, I'm a complete sucker for a dance scene. I've written them a few times, and there's something so magical and intimate about them. You wrote this one between Dean and the reader so beautifully, because you made it filled with attraction, but you also made it a little melancholy when the reader is remembering a part of her life when she was happy in her marriage. The almost kiss is KILLING me lol

Girl me TOO. You're so right -- there's something "magical and intimate" about a dancing scene, especially in the '40s. Everything just feels so romantic in this era, in both senses of the word. There's a couple different layers of subtext going on here, but honestly the almost kiss was hard to keep "almost." 😂😂

Alright, it's official Alex my soul has left my body. It's been nice knowing you 🤣 I knew this would happen someday when I read one of your fics lol

LOLL I take that as a giant compliment, my friend!! 🤭 Though I apologize for the vacancy of your soul. 🩵

Ohhh my word this chapter was so good! The historical fiction vibes are just so impeccable, and the entire scene with the reader and Dean in the club is going to live rent free in my head the rest of the year! Cannot wait to revive and read the next chapter lol!! 💗

Honestly I so appreciate you for saying that because it's my first time writing a '40s AU, as you know, and I've tried my best to make it feel like the setting. The club scene's probably been one of my favorites to write for this little series! I so hope you enjoy the next chapter!! 💖💗💖

BETWEEN THE CITY & THE STARS - Part 2

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: In the fall of 1945, Dean is having a difficult time assimilating back into civilian life after the War. He’s visiting his brother Sam in New York City, where he’s beginning to build up his law firm. At two minutes to closing time, you interrupt their evening to solicit a solicitor. Your request? You need help in order to divorce your husband.

AN: Before we tune back into some 1940s drama, I just wanted to thank you all so much for your wonderful responses on Part 1 of this series. 🥹 It’s my first time doing a story like this, so I’m very happy you liked the jumpstart here. 💖💖

Prompt for @jacklesversebingo: Historical Epic

Song Inspo: “I’ve Got You Under My Skin” by Frank Sinatra

Word Count: 3.7K

Tags/Warnings: Angst, hints of PTSD, flirting, dancing…

✨ Series Masterlist

🎵 YouTube Playlist || Spotify Playlist

Part 2: Devil May Care

After you got home from work the very next day, your apartment was entirely empty.

Predictable. Michael was still out.

This time, you counted it as a blessing. You rifled through every corner, cabinet, pocket, and drawer in search of evidence—anything you could use to prove, without even one shade of a doubt, that your husband was the unfaithful scoundrel you knew him to be. You knew it, deep in your gut. In your very soul.

You even rifled through Michael’s desk in his office, through every single folder, drawer, and booklet. You’d never done such a thing before because he was a particular man about his things, and you respected his privacy. 

That was done now. In your search, you found a useless ball of rubber bands and old coupons. You took his father’s old collection of fountain pens, which you knew Michael was precious about, and threw them haphazardly onto the desk to make room for your seeking hands through the rest of the drawers.

You even came across a small, crumpled photograph from your wedding day. This one made you pause.

You considered the picture, its bent corners and slightly grainy black and white lens. You’d worn your mother’s wedding dress, and you stared up at your new husband with the rosiest of smiles. He stared into your eyes then the way he always used to—like a man ready and willing to drown in them.

You sighed and let the picture fall from between your fingertips. It swayed onto the desk’s mahogany wood surface, and rested there. You shook your head and returned your attention to your task at hand, holding your hands to your hips.

The problem was, you didn’t see anything incriminating here…until an idea finally occurred to you. You went into Michael’s closet. You sorted through the suit jackets he still needed to get drycleaned and pressed again.

In one of the pockets, you found a receipt. 

You brought it to Sam Winchester’s office the following morning before work, along with some documents of your household expenses. Like you did the afternoon before, he identified the receipt as one for the Cotton Club, a nightclub in the Upper East Side. You had never been there in your life, but you heard it was one of the new go-to spots in town. It was the kind of place you used to wish Michael would take you to, once in a while.

“It could be a lead or it could be nothing, but I’ll check it out, along with these,” Sam said. He gathered the financial documents you gave him as well. 

“Okay. Thank you, Mr. Winchester,” you nodded.

“You can call me Sam if you like,” he said, kind, but still professional. You smiled. Unbidden, it reminded you of his brother.

“Please,” you said, your eyes briefly closing. “Just…call me by my name. My first name.” 

Dean slowly smiled. “Perfect. I like your name better anyway.” 

This time, your smile in return was genuine, if tinged with amusement. 

“Goodnight, Dean,” you replied.

Biting the inside of your lip, you gave into the urge to ask the question.

“It was nice of your brother to walk me home last night…what is he up to today then?”

“Ah, well, he’s out to lunch with a young lady he met last night,” Sam replied, with a somewhat wry, but still amused tone to his voice. You frowned.

“Last night? Does your brother meet a lot of women after 9:00 p.m.?” 

Sam chuckled. “He’s not usually wanting for company.”

“I see,” you said flatly. You should have known. The devil-may-care grin on that man was too charming to be anything less than the mark of a shameless flirt. Maybe even a scoundrel. Lord knew you couldn’t take any chances either way.

Dean returned from his day out with Vanessa. She was a nice enough girl, a knockout blonde too. She was smart, studying to be a schoolteacher. But she also tended to twitter on about frivolous things, so much that he couldn’t really remember much of what she said. She did look good doing it though. Not to mention, she let him feel her up while they kissed in one of the alleys, between the ice cream parlor and a drycleaners.

He predictably found his brother whittling away life in his office. Dean dropped his coat and hat on the hanger with a flourish. Sam raised his head from his work with an amused smile.

“Had a good day, did you?” he remarked.

“I can’t complain,” Dean agreed. “Especially when a beautiful woman’s involved.”

Sam shook his head. Before September, he hadn’t seen Dean in three years. Yet some things just didn’t change.

“You gonna see her again?” Sam asked.

Dean made a noncommittal sound. “We’ll see. The day is young, brother.”

Sam raised a finger. “Speaking of which. Mrs. Milligan came by this morning. I’ve been looking through her husband’s finances.”

“Oh really?” Dean sobered as he approached his brother’s desk. “What’d you find?”

“Overall, things seemed to be in order, until I noticed something strange,” Sam said. Dean lowered into the chairs opposite his brother at his desk, and they went over it all together. Sam appreciated another set of eyes on this, with the understanding that Dean would keep the information to himself. 

Starting roughly eleven months ago, there was a check signed to a Mr. Johnson for a moderate sum. Three weeks later, another check, this time a bit larger. For the past few months, Michael Milligan had been making these payments at least once a month, sometimes as much as three, albeit in different amounts.

“He might just have a gambling problem,” Sam said. He rubbed his chin in contemplation.

“Or it could be what she’s worried about,” Dean pointed out. “The name could be an alias. Maybe Mike’s paying for someone’s services…or paying her bills, if you catch my drift.”

Sam slowly nodded. “That’s a possibility.” He checked the dates on the documents again and shook his head. “Mrs. Milligan told me they got married about a year ago, here in the city. It would mean this guy started stepping out on her a month after the wedding.” 

Dean both could and couldn’t believe it. He might not have been a saint himself when it came to the fairer sex, but if he went through the whole ordeal of marrying one, let alone a straight-shooting woman like you, beautiful, clever…

“Geez,” he muttered. “He could’ve at least waited until the ink dried on the certificate.” 

Sam nodded in agreement. He picked up the receipt to the Cotton Club, and he shot his brother a grin.

“Wanna go to the club tonight?”

A wall of sound. That was the Cotton Club—the band on stage playing jazz tunes, loudly, if skillfully; the clanking of glasses as drinks rolled past; the clamor of heels and leather shoes as couples swung on the dance floor; and the added layer of people raising their voices to compensate. The room was filled with the smell of cigarette smoke, fighting against perfume and cologne and musk and sweat.

It was a bit overwhelming for Dean at first. He tried to ease himself into the scene with Sam at his side, even if he did jolt at the cork of a champagne bottle popping open. Sam noticed, but he mercifully didn’t say anything. He thumped a hand on Dean’s back to steady him under the pretense of a brotherly pat, adding a smile for good measure.

Sam was there to keep a lookout for Michael Milligan. Dean would help, but it wasn’t like he was being paid for it. He was largely aiming to have some fun while his brother was all serious, focused on the work. Dean was here for the community nightlife. 

The beautiful, beautiful community. As a matter of fact, there were lovely ladies everywhere. One sultry blonde was singing an upbeat, jazzy tune at the mic. Dolores Daye, said the banner above the stage.

Dean’s attention shifted from the stage to the scattered round tables outside the dance floor, as well as the chair lined up at the bar. His gaze caught on someone familiar—on you, sat at a table by yourself. His eyes widened. He slowed to a stop while Sam went on ahead.

You were stunning, almost unrecognizable in a shimmering black dress that hugged every lush part of your figure, with sleeves that draped off your shoulders. His eyes drew down your crossed legs, the sheer pantyhose, leading to a pair of tall, shining black heels.   

You wore a hat and partial veil that covered half your face, but he knew it was you. Those lips of yours were familiar on sight. Now they were painted red, dark and luscious.

“Dean?” Sam questioned him. He’d turned back when he realized his brother wasn’t keeping up with him. Dean subtly pointed you out. Sam raised his brows, but then he noticed what you were doing. You had a glass of wine in hand, and you seemed to be watching someone.

Every now and then your gaze would travel across the room, where your husband Michael was sat at a table filled with other men and women. They were laughing, drinking, playing cards. 

Sam and Dean shared a conspiring look, one that said they had the same thought. They went over to you. 

Sensing you were being approached, you looked over and found the pair of tall, familiar men with a widening of your eyes. That pretty mouth of yours fell open in surprise. 

“What’re you doing here?” you whisper-hissed. You beckoned them to sit down so they weren’t standing out so much while talking to you. Both Winchester men were broad-shouldered and tall as oaks.

“The same thing you’re doing, apparently,” Sam said, once he and Dean were sitting across from you at the table. He showed you the camera he had hidden in his coat pocket. “I’m going to see if I can get a read on what your husband’s up to, maybe collect some evidence.”

You let out a rush of breath. “Good, thank you.”

“Until then, maybe you’d be more comfortable at home,” he suggested.

Dean knew what his brother was getting at. This wasn’t the kind of place for a woman to be hanging around…unaccompanied. Not a respectable one like you, who clearly wasn’t used to being in a roaring nightclub. Plus, if Michael did slip up here, it wasn’t exactly going to be pleasant for you.

You still shook your head stubbornly. “No. I want to see it with my own eyes.”

Sam almost sighed, but Dean shot him a nod. Right then, they had an understanding. Dean would stay and look out for you while Sam tried to get closer to Michael. Sam left you and Dean together at the table thereafter, and Dean ordered a drink for himself. You sipped at your wine.

Dean glanced at you in appreciation. You really were beautiful…and not just tonight. Though he had to smile at your “disguise.”

“You think that getup is gonna fool your husband?” he remarked, gesturing at your form.

Your lips pursed, but you kept your head angled towards him, so that your hat and veil continued to hide your face from Michael’s direction.

“It has so far,” you retorted. “And this isn’t a getup.”

You smoothed slightly self-conscious hands down the skirt of your dress. Dean smiled. 

“All right, I’m sorry. Poor choice of words,” he said. He dropped his chin and raised his brows, earning your gaze under the hat. “It’s quite a dress, sweetheart.”

I’d like to see you out of it, he thought, even though he immediately stamped it down. You weren’t exactly available, no matter how delectable you were. The interesting part was, you didn’t seem to realize it as you fidgeted in your seat, a little self-consciously.

“Is that supposed to be a compliment?” you snipped.

His lips tugged at a smirk. He tilted your hat up a little so he could see more of your frowning face. 

“Want me to do better?” he teased. 

“I’d like you to leave me be. How about that?” you said, grabbing the edges of your hat and tilting it back down. “You’re distracting me.”

“Oh, I’m distracting?”

You met his gaze to give him a hot reply, but your words failed you. Just then, faced with his perfectly handsome, roguish face, you finally noticed how green his eyes were. Holding the gleaming reflection from the crystal chandelier above the bar, they briefly dragged over you again, like he was a starving man, and you were the very last morsel held in front of him.

It was indecent, you thought, but suddenly your mouth had gone dry.

“How about this,” Dean said. He finished off his whiskey and held out a hand to you. “Dance with me. You’ll have a better vantage point to spy on Mike over there.”

“Keep your voice down,” you shushed, glancing around.

Dean just smirked. He beckoned you again with a raise of his brows.

You hesitated, but you still eventually dropped your hand into his. He stood before you so he could help you to your feet. You allowed him to escort you over to the dance floor, and all the while you fought off your nerves. You were only doing this because he had a good idea; this would help you keep an eye on Michael without looking so out of place, a woman drinking alone at the table.

The band was playing a moderately paced song, which was good. You weren’t in this to be swept into the air.

“Relax,” Dean whispered, once he had you in his arms. His hands were respectably placed on your waist and in your hand. You knew you did have to relax though. Already you were too stiff while tentatively holding his hand, your other resting on his shoulder.

“I haven’t danced in—in a while,” you admitted. You were a little nervous as you began swaying with Dean, letting him lead you. He turned you about with ease, even twirling you under his hand.

“See? There’s nothing to it,” he said, welcoming you back into his arms. “When’s the last time you had some fun?”

You tilted your head as you thought about it. You and Dean shuffled about the dance floor in more complicated steps as the song increased in tempo. You were breathless in a good way. In a way that you couldn’t even remember needing to breathe as the golden lights sparkled in the corners of your eyes.

“He took me to a club like this once, about…I’d say month or so after we got married last year,” you admitted between spins. You had to hold a hand to your head to keep your hat on.

You were distracted enough by it all—the spinning, the laughter and tinkling glasses, the flashes of spotlight in between sultry dim shades, the heady smell of this man’s cologne, and his every touch, however brief on your body, but just as confident and measured. You actually told him the truth.

“I’ve been dying to get out more ever since, but…” you trailed as he spun you again, then winded you back into the growing familiarity of his arms.

Dean smoothly guided you even closer to him by your waist, until there was hardly any room between your chest and his, between your face and his. Your hand curled around the back of his neck on instinct, the edge of your nails just barely grazing through his hair. You wouldn’t know how it elicited a hot zing of sensation down his spine.

“Your husband really is blind, and even dumber than he looks,” Dean said, glancing down at your face. “I clocked you in five seconds flat, just by those pretty lips.”

You lowered your eyes, but not very far. They landed on his plush lips in contemplation. When your eyes met his again, Dean had a conundrum. He just didn’t think he cared all that much about the consequences.

His head began to bow towards yours, just when the song slowed to a stop. Almost without realizing it, he pressed his hand a little more insistently on the small of your back. You found yourself accepting that guiding pressure. Half-lidded eyes and heavy, mingled breaths in between…

“Let’s hear it again for Dolores Daye, everybody!” the host called out.

You snapped to attention and glanced over Dean’s shoulder at the singer. She waved goodbye to the crowd with a sensuous smile on her ruby red lips. Then she walked off stage in her glittering golden dress, and she grabbed hold of a man’s tie. That man was your husband.

Michael wore a wide smile on his face as she led him to his feet by his tie. He stood, his form looming over her, though she didn’t seem to mind—especially when his arm wrapped too familiarly around her waist.

It wasn’t the kind of embrace you would see between strangers, even for the sake of a good show for the crowd. Their faces became impossibly close, but it was just shy of a kiss as she laughed, a sound like fine crystal bells.

Dean noticed why you froze. He turned to look over his shoulder and his expression faded, becoming grim. He led you off the stage, and while keeping a discreet eye on the scene, he lingered at the bar in the center of the room. His arm stayed around your waist. He could tell himself it was to stay in character, but really, he just wanted to keep you grounded…that right now, you weren’t alone.  

Here by the bar, it was far enough that Michael likely wouldn’t notice you, but close enough that you both could hear what was happening.

The host stepped down from the stage and joined Dolores and Michael, laying a heavy hand on your husband’s shoulder. Yet another clue that Michael showed his face here all too frequently. The host waved over his entire table of friends, Sam included. He’d managed to get himself invited to sit with them.

“Come on. Join us out back,” said the host, gesturing behind the curtain.

“Where to?” Sam asked.

“For a card game or two, a little smoke, a nice little drink,” Michael said, grabbing Sam’s shoulder. “You in?”

Sam nodded. He glanced over and found Dean across the room with his eyes. They shared a brief, but telling look, after which Sam followed Michael and Dolores past the curtain discreetly. Meanwhile, you were already pulling away from Dean’s arm.

“I’m sorry. I’ve got to go,” you murmured.

You went back to the table to collect your purse. You left the rest of your wine there with a few bills on the table to cover it, and you were off, walking brusquely to the front doors. Dean followed suit, laying some money down for his own drink before he followed after you. The clerk at the front brought you your coat after you handed over your ticket, and Dean did the same.

“Hey, why don’t I take you home,” he said, having to raise his voice even here over the noise.

“No, thank you,” you said thickly.

After you had your coat on, you hastened to the closest bus stop outside the club. It was late, it was dark, and it was cold. You saw your fragile breath on the air as you stood there in your tall heels, and you held yourself for more than one reason as you fought off bitter tears.

You bit your lip and blinked against the burn, but you still had to swipe a few droplets quickly from your cheeks. You tried to even out your shallow breaths. It felt like someone had reached into your chest and started squeezing whatever they found. Whatever was left.

Dean sidled up to you with his hands in his pockets. You heaved a sharp sigh, recognizing him just by his shadow casting beside yours under the streetlamp. You kept your face away from him as you wiped at your tears.

“Why do you insist on watching me be miserable?” you asked. 

“Aw, come on, sweetheart.” He shook his head, carding a hand through his hair. “I know you’re upset. I just want to make sure you get home safe, that’s all. …You don’t even have to talk to me if you don’t want to.” 

You slowly shot him a glance, but you didn’t budge. Your frown deepened along with your furrowed brows.  

“Dean, please. You don’t have to do this just because you feel sorry for me,” you said.

“I don’t feel sorry for you,” he said.

It earned your attention, your confused and hurt expression.

Dean met your gaze steadily. “I feel sorry for him. Because he doesn’t have a clue what he’s just lost.”

Your breath stilled in your lungs. 

His words touched you, more deeply than he probably realized. Part of you still wanted to give a sharp retort, that you didn’t need a chaperone. You didn’t need him to swoop in and collect you like broken glass…but a larger part of you craved the company. You didn’t want to be alone.

Soon enough, the next bus pulled up at the curb in front of you. The doors opened. 

Dean gestured with a sweeping hand towards the bus’s steps. 

Ladies first.

With another small sigh, you climbed up without a word. You even accepted his helping hand as you did so. Dean stepped up after you, and the doors closed behind you both.

AN: Welp, Happy Valentine's Day! 😅💜 Quite literally an angsty ride here, but what should happen on this bus going nowhere...

Next Time:

You admired his hands as they rested casually in his lap. They were larger than yours, with long fingers. His hands look strong and capable, like the rest of him, even though they were always considerate when they touched you.

“Then you should do something you like doing,” you said. “Fixing cars! That’s good, honest work you can make a living out of.”

Dean looked over at you. “You think so?”

You nodded your encouragement, smiling bright. “I know so. You might be a bit of a flirt, but you also look like someone who can accomplish whatever you set your mind to.”

When those words slipped free from your mouth, you realized how he might take that little accusation, let alone how overeager you sounded. Your gaze fell away from him as you felt your face getting warm in a blush.

Dean’s smile slid into a smirk. “I’m a flirt, huh?”

“Well…” You bit the inside of your lip and tried your hardest not to look at him for a while. “At least you’re an honest one.”

Dean laughed freely at that.

▶️ Keep Reading: PART 3

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[into-fiction]

re: Elphaba staying (or being forced to stay?) I could potentially see them keeping Elphaba in chains somewhere, maybe Morrible does something to contain her powers, idk? And Galinda being kept around as leverage (i.e., we'll hurt her, kill her if you don't comply). Afterall, the Wizard tried to present her as positive leverage in the movie ("and if it makes you happy, maybe even your friend here").

The question is, how much would Elphaba sacrifice for Galinda? She chooses Animals/political resistance over her, ultimately. Would she willingly hurt animals to keep her safe? I think most gelphie shippers would probably like to believe that she would do anything to keep Galinda safe, but I think there's a conflict there that a lot of gelphie fic doesn't address. Yes, we all talk about how their relationship is "doomed by the narrative", but really, they ultimately just choose themselves over each other. Not true love, some would say, or at least not a compelling romance.

That's to say, I think there aren't many "Elphie stays" stories simply BECAUSE they're doomed by the narrative. When the narrative changes to accommodate their relationship, everyone suffers! There's no triumph, no character arc for either of them, just some kind of dystopian timeline, right?

(Unless both Morrible and the Wizard somehow get killed, say, before the hot air balloon scene. Then Elphaba wouldn't have any need to leave, though there would be a serious power vacuum and it's not like two random University students could fill it, right?..... shhhh I'm thinking....)

see the part where i hit a wall in any 'elphie stays' scenario is we actually have no idea what the wizard wanted her for. he has his spies now, so what else does he need? i actually don't even know there would be any other spells he'd ask her to cast on Animals.

tbh, i don't think elphie would need much restraining. lets be real- without the grimmerie, she still is someone who has almost no control. if she can't float a coin on purpose, she's unlikely to be able to escape easily. esp if glinda is leverage and esp if her personal morals prevent her from wanting to hurt anyone.

but really, what would her job be?? no doubt the wizard wanted to harness her magic somehow, likely to continue to control and suppress the Animals, but a direct spell like the monkey wings? seems like a one time thing. in fact- how would they even put a positive spin on winged monkeys without a wicked witch to blame it on?!

i agree with glinda being used as leverage! i think that makes the most sense. and as for whether hurting glinda is a strong enough incentive to push elphie to do something she opposes.....hm. how far would she go? if one of the guards had put a gun to glinda's head and said "stand down or else" - would elphie have stayed? would she have fought it every second or would she have listened to glinda?

and glinda herself! would she have begged elphie to cooperate? would she have told her 'its alright don't worry about me'? if she had said the latter, would elphie have felt better about letting her get hurt?

or, in a world where elphie listens first and stays of her own free will, would they even need to threaten her explicitly? or would elphie have cooperated out of her own desire to see things through from another angle?

[lowytavis]

*the future king and his secret* Aaric Graycastle Part 2

Part 1 here Warnings: same as in part 1

__________

"They're all staring at us, Aaric," said (Y/N). "Let them," I grinned. "I'm dancing with the most beautiful girl at the ball. A little jealousy will do these noble snobs some good."

She laughed heartily. "Look at Higgins—his face is as red as a tomato. He’s going to kill you later." I smirked.

"Let him try messing with the king first." She grinned. Hours passed. Sometimes I danced with (Y/N), and sometimes she was stolen from my arms by some noble fool trying his luck, while I was left dancing with yet another potential future queen. Annoying, but Higgins insisted. ____

I excused myself from the event, grabbed my friends—including (Y/N)—and we headed to one of the halls that was off-limits to the others. "Quite the show you put on, Aaric," Violet said, her cheeks flushed from all the dancing. A bead of sweat ran down Xaden’s forehead as well. "I have to admit, even I’m enjoying it," Imogen said, and Garrick pressed a kiss to her cheek. Oh, that was new, I thought to myself. Dain and Sloane had left earlier. Sloane was completely wasted—I’ve never seen her that drunk before. She made a whole scene, demanding to know why Dain wouldn’t just have a quick fuck right then and there. Absolutely hilarious. Dain didn’t even argue, just threw her over his shoulder and carried her off.

He never came back, probably passed out… or giving his fiancée exactly what she wanted.

Ridoc had (Y/N) in his arms.

She had also indulged a bit too much. "Lovely one here coming to bed with me tonight," Ridoc said to me, beaming. "Not a chance," I replied, pressing my lips together. If there was one thing I wouldn’t allow, it was that.

"She’s her own person, Aaric," Ridoc grumbled, completely wasted.

Oh god, could no one keep it together tonight? I ran a hand over my forehead, thinking of a way to get Ridoc away from her.

Then, an idea struck me—Lilian. Lilian was unbelievably annoying but also unbelievably beautiful.

"Ridoc, let me keep my childhood friend intact. I’ve got someone else for you to charm. You’ll like her. And I’m pretty sure she’ll like you too." Lilian had always loved bold men. She had tried her luck with my eldest brother until his passing—and even hit on my father once. She was basically the female version of Ridoc.

"But I want (Y/N)!" he whined like a child. "(Y/N) is off-limits, Ridoc. End of discussion." I turned away and called, "Higgins! Fetch Lady Weysler. I have someone I’d like to introduce to her." (Y/N) had fallen asleep in Ridoc’s arms by now.

I carefully lifted her up while Higgins introduced Lilian to Ridoc—and vice versa. As expected, they hit it off immediately, and not even five minutes later, they were already making out in a corner.

I sighed, exchanging a glance with Xaden.

A quick nod, and we made our way to our chambers—him with Violet, and me carrying (Y/N).

"Breakfast is at nine," I called after him before Sir Thomlys, my personal guard, shut the door behind us.

"Alright, sleepyhead," I whispered to her, "time to get ready for bed."

She mumbled something unintelligible to herself and stretched her arms out towards me.

"What do you want from me, sugar?" I laughed.

"Should I help you out of your dress?" I asked, gently stroking her arm. She murmured a soft "yes" and let her body fall onto the bed.

As I helped her out of the dress, I couldn't help but admire her beautiful body.

It wasn't as toned as the women from Basgiath, but that made her even more special in a way.

The feminine curves, the small scar on her back, her tousled hair—she was the most beautiful person I had ever seen, even with the drool trickling from her mouth onto my pillow.

I had to laugh, which unfortunately woke her up.

"What's wrong, Aaric?" she mumbled, her eyes glassy and half-naked. "Why am I naked? God, this dress was so tight," she grinned.

"Feeling sober, Princess?" I asked with a smirk.

"Princess," she laughed, "how wrong does that sound?"

"I think it sounds just right," I said with a devilish grin and scooted into bed with her.

[sanemiss]

Sanemi is Jealous (of your friends Tomioka and Obanai)

If she can get past your deplorable character, she's all yours.

+ short bonus Sanemi comforting you while crying

+ bonus Obanai/Sanemi ~friendship

>fluff, fluff, fluff

TW:

>cursing

>slight angst //v short & it is not central to the story

1.5K

Sanemi really thought he could not hate Tomioka even more, but here he is. The whole hashira group is laughing at something you said, loud laughs bursting and echoing around the room. Ugh, that always happens, ever since you got here.

He can't help but stare at Tomioka and his stupid fucking laugh, his face lighting up in your presence, so close to you, evidently the closest person to you, as if you were complementary parts of the same piece. Sanemi feels like he could smash his dumb fucking face through the wall right about fucking now.

"Punch him already or calm the hell down. I can feel you vibrating", Obanai observes his friend distantly.

You're all having a little gathering with food and drinks, just to take your minds off of trauma, missions, or recovery. To relax, just for one moment. Of course, it was your initiative, strongly supported by Mitsuri and Tengen, both who then dragged everyone else to the event without leaving room for a "no".

"I fucking hate being in the same room as this guy. Fucking Tomioka and his little fucking friend who forced us to be here."

Obanai would normally agree, he hates gatherings. But he gets to see Mitsuri outside of work, and maybe he could even talk to her today. Or maybe he's just repeating the words you told him in order to convince him to come. You've been bugging him to make a move for some time now.

"She's pretty cool, you know? The new girl", Obanai comments absently.

"You're such a fucking idiot, shut up."

"Aw...", Obanai says mockingly, "is Shinazugawa upset that the new girl is friends with everyone but him?"

"First of all, I'm gonna fucking kill you. Second of all, what, you consider yourself her friend now? As if!", he scoffs.

"Actually we've been spending most of our evenings together for more than two months now."

"Wow, have a great fucking wedding, then", Sanemi barks and searches for an exit with his eyes but he would have to pass by the entire group of loud people. He knows they would make a fuss if he tried to leave. Annoying.

Obanai is amused. Is this dumbass actually jealous or something?

You guys truly became very close. As loud and outgoing as you seem, you are very much like Tomioka on the inside. Gloomy, hanging from a deep, heavy emptiness. One night, you finally dropped the mask and let Obanai see this version of yourself, and your vulnerability gained his trust. Hell, he could relate to your intricate emotions so much. This grew into a connection that he'd never had before, where now he actually feels so safe that he openly talks about himself, where he actually trusts someone, a woman, and even has fun. But you guys are basically like siblings now, you even swear at each other, lovingly but harshly.

"Hey, guys! Can we sit here? All the other seats are taken", you're almost excusing yourself, because you know Shinazugawa doesn't like Tomioka and you're pretty sure he's not that fond of you either.

"Yeah, sit down, we were just talking about you", Obanai says cheekily. Sanemi wants to shove a fist into Obanai's face.

"You were?" You're slightly worried.

"Shinazugawa here wants to be your friend, it seems", Obanai responds, playing dumb.

You can sense Tomioka get uncomfortable, holding his breath. The air is now thick and cold and screeching. Awaiting an explosion.

Suddenly, Sanemi breaks the anticipation by sending Obanai flying right through the outside wall, an explosion of thick smoke rising and blocking everyone's sight. You could only hear the sounds of Sanemi trying (and failing) to attack Obanai again and again.

Well, people are pretty impressed it took so long for a fight to break out today.

+++

Life continued as usual for another 3 months. Trainings, missions, trainings, missions. You had no time to rest, your free time didn't sync with neither Tomioka or Obanai and the lack of connection with the people you can be yourself around has been getting to you.

You just drop to the ground. You feel so physically and emotionally exhaused, so stressed and so incredibly alone that it all starts to feel unbearable. Loneliness starts tearing at your heart and in no time, it's starting to rip it. Spiriling under the night sky, you're crying cascades, the heaviness in your heart growing and moving through your entire body, your senses blinded by exasperation, pain, fatigue.

"Hey, hey, what the hell, look at me, y/n."

The presence sends shivers through your body, immediately embarrassed that someone is witnessing this.

"Hey-", you wipe your tears and you see Sanemi's face, worried and alert at the sight of your breakdown.

He's squating, holding your hands tightly, his eyes turning into a deeply kind, caring gaze.

Instinctively, you try to force a smile, "Sorry, it's okay, you don't have t-"

He pulls you in a hug, to his chest, and now his big, tough, warm body is shielding you.

"It's okay, I got you", the powerful, deep, yet calm voice reassures you. His chin is gently pressing on the crown of your head, holding your body firmly with one hand while carefully patting your head with the other.

+++

"-anything right, you fucking idiot?! If you're so high and mighty and better than us then why can't you even take care of her?!"

The screaming outside has been going on for a couple of minutes now, only to finally open the door and see Tomioka- just having arrived from his mission- staring, confused, at a screaming Shinazugawa.

He sees you coming behind Sanemi's back and makes the kind of eye contact that translates to "Help, what the fuck is his deal now?"

"Hey", you say loudly, trying to cover the screaming, hoping that if you start talking normally, the screaming hashira would just stop. "Good to see you're back, Tomioka! How was the mission?"

Sanemi is taken aback, then yells "Fine, whatever! Do whatever you fucking want, idiot!", then storms away.

He's furious, fuming, could tear the entire world apart- so he's going training.

"What the fuck is up with you now, Shinazugawa?", the familiar voice interrupts his determined walk. He doesn't need to look up to the tree, where the sound came from, to know who it is.

"Not in the mood. Unless you wanna fight."

Obanai shrugs, climbs down the tree, takes out his sword. "Sure, let's go."

After around an hour of sparring, Obanai tries again, "So are you gonna tell me what happened?"

In-between metal clinks and dust rising up from the heavy steps, he says, "I just hate incompetence. You'd think trusting someone to be your boyfriend or whatever would mean they'd actually be worth it."

Obanai stops, moving out of the way right when the blade was about to strike "Huh, what are you talking about? Who has a boyfriend?" The thought that it could be Mitsuri passed his mind for one second and it honestly made him want to fucking burn and die. But no way, why would Sanemi be so bothered by that?

"Stop being stupid, you know fully well I mean y/n and fucking Tomioka."

Obanai remains stunned, and with the risk of getting decapitated, he throws his blade to the ground and starts laughing so hard he's basically screaming, so loud and wide that he even risks his bandages to rip.

"Oh my god, Shinazugawa", holding his stomach from laughter, "I knew you were fucking stupid but this is incredible", wiping off his tears.

Sanemi's growing a new thick layer of confusion and anger, still charging attacks at a defenceless Obanai who just casually avoids his increasingly violent attempts.

"I didn't know you were such a sensitive, jealous loverboy", his laugh picks up again.

"What, you can't stand Tomioka being close to her?" he's enjoying this childish torment so much. "I thought she was my girlfriend though? What happened with that? I thought you had a wedding planned for us, no?", not even landing a slash on Sanemi's face would feel this satisfying, this is the most fun he's had in his entire life.

Eventually Obanai's empathy wins. "Okay, okay, stop. Listen to me, loverboy", he chuckles. Sanemi's veins cannot hold onto his face any longer, the angrier he gets the more satisfying it is for his sadistic friend. "Okay, okay, listen-".

"Tomioka is not her boyfriend, no one is her fucking boyfriend, okay? If she can get past your deplorable character, she's all yours."

+++

To be continued!!!

┈➤・❥・

because i already have the next part it's just getting too long and it's 1 am but i need to post this NOW

[violetganache42]

Eggman: N-No, please! Listen to me. My wife emails me everyday. She says that she misses me. If I lose my life here, how am I gonna email her back and tell her that I'm still okay?

Frieza: You don't know how to use a computer. You can't email.

Eggman: What do you mean?! I made the iMac! I made the iPhone!

Frieza: You made the iPhone?! I'm going to fucking kill you!

Eggman: Not if I kill you first.

Frieza: Oh, God!

(Eggman powers up and chucks an iPhone at Frieza, but it bounces off his head with a bonk.)

Frieza: Haha! That was just an iPhone 13. ("The Doomsday Zone" starts playing.) They don't hurt. (Suddenly, a shadow looms over Frieza.) Oh, God.

Eggman: (looking quite menacing) That's it.

Frieza: (frantic breathing upon seeing Eggman holding a giant Nokia cellphone) Don't pull out the Nokia! That's cheating!

Eggman: You're gonna be using a Samsung tablet to make phone calls for the rest of your life!

Frieza, while transforming into his Golden form: I tried to go Golden!

Eggman: (aiming the Nokia at Golden Frieza) Gold this.

Brian: OH SHIT, WAIT A MINUTE.

(The Shenanigoonz laugh as Eggman fires the Nokia at Golden Frieza and explodes upon contact, shocking Broly. Brian is in the air laughing his ass off.)

Broly: (with Zyzx_'s voice) HE DIED!

Frieza: (while being consumed by the explosion) NOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Eggman: Hold that L, you idiot!

Broly: (normal voice) Good job, Eggman.

(The Zeurel animation ends and the video cuts back to the DBFZ gameplay footage of Broly and Brian fighting Eggman in the Galactic Arena.)

Eggman: Who's next? Who are you?!

Broly: Oh, I was gonna say, "Good job." We got really tired of that guy. He didn't believe in the Lord Jesus Christ.

Brian: Yeah, he kinda sucks, dude.

Broly: Can you believe that shit?

Eggman: So are you two, like, friends with that guy or whatever? Like, who the fuck was that?

Broly: No.

Brian: (in succession) No.

Broly: We only go to church together—(Zyzx_ breaks character for a moment) How long will this bit go on?—(Zyzx_ gets back in character) We only go to church together.

Eggman: To church?

Brian: Yeah, I swear—I swear I saw him stealin' from the BASKET, bro.

Eggman: You're about to pray to the egg real quick, right? (wheezing) You're about to— (quickly regains his composure) I got a Bible verse for you: I am the yolk Don't need the yolk I want the smoke I'm gonna smoke all of your weed

Brian: Oh, shit.

Broly: No! Not my weed, bro!

Brian: O-Oh, shit! Matthew 5:14, dude!

Eggman: Oh, my goodness. I am just k—(wheezes again) just killing these motherfuckers left and right. Jesus Christ. (grabs Broly by the ankles, spins him around, and throws him to the arena floor) Get the fuck out of my face! (unleashes his signature attack) Piss Beam! Go!

Broly: Not my Bible (Zyzx_ starts losing his shit again and struggles to stay in character) blunts, bro!

(PaperBoxHouse, Zyzx_, iHeartJustice, and Lythero each start laughing at the sheer ridiculousness and committment of this bit.)

Broly: Stay away from my blunts, bro! (unleashes his Level 3: Omega Blaster) My God!

Eggman: Wait. W-What are you doing? Is that a green bean? (death noises as he gets caught in the Omega Blaster and KO'd from the attack reaching the arena floor and exploding upon contact, resulting in a Destructive Finish while Lythero and Zyzx_ laugh again) You fucking pineapple! I'll have my revenge!

(The bit ends with everyone laughing as Broly's victory animation plays.)

Sonic & Knuckles | The Doomsday Zone 

[devoted-krystal]

Defending Asahi from Shin Megami Tensei IV: Apocalypse

A lot of people online throw around the word "depression" without truly understanding what it is. Real depression isn’t just about feeling sad—it’s the crushing weight of worthlessness, insignificance, and the belief that the world would be better off without you. It’s feeling like no matter what you do, you’ll never be enough. That’s exactly why Asahi’s story in SMT4A hit me so hard.

In SMT4A, Asahi really cannot catch a break:

First she has her mentors and senior killed right in front of her face: Nikkari and Manabu, and then is strangled and held hostage by Buddha, late ron her own father dies after the Kinshicho base is infiltrated, and on top of that her own childhood friend is now a walking zombie puppet for Dagda.

And of course she has competition with Toki: A girl who is actively jealous of her because .. of a guy. Something... that hits a bit too close to home for me because I was often the girl that was considered "competition"

... And they all expect her to be okay after this..?

People are quick to dismiss Asahi, calling her annoying or useless. They forget that she’s only 15. She’s spent her whole life underground, sheltered from the horrors of the outside world. And suddenly, after Nanashi dies, she’s thrown headfirst into a brutal reality where demons, angels, and gods battle for supremacy. On top of that? She’s lost the only friend her age.

If you find her "annoying" that's fine, you're entitled to your opinion, but that means I'm also entitled to defend her.

Meanwhile, the so-called "strong" characters around her :

Navarre, Gaston, Nozomi, Isabeau, Flynn, even Hallelujah, all have some kind of supernatural blessing, divine power, or special lineage backing them up. Asahi doesn’t. She’s just a regular human trying to survive, trying to make a difference in a world that constantly tells her she’s not good enough.

And let’s not forget the biggest hypocrisy of all: The people who worship Nanashi seem to forget that without Dagda, he’d be dead. Just as “useless” as they claim Asahi is. If anyone had the right to feel like they didn’t belong in this fight, it was her. And yet, she kept trying.

That’s why I refuse to stand by when people put her down. They mock her, belittle her, and act like she deserved the harsh treatment she got—especially from Gaston.

When Gaston told Asahi she was a "pimple on [his] ass," I actually got mad. I rarely get angry at NPCs, but this? This was personal. If these characters truly wanted Asahi to "get stronger," why not help her instead of constantly putting her down? Why not mentor her, guide her, encourage her? But of course, it’s always easier to look down on someone struggling than to reach out and lift them up.

I know this feeling well. I was Asahi once. Growing up, I always felt like there was someone better than me. Someone smarter, more capable, more worthy. No matter how hard I tried, I could never measure up. And instead of encouragement, all I got was criticism:

"Why can't you get straight A’s like that girl?" "Why can't you be like that guy who never struggles?"

But no one ever stopped to tell me, "You’re fine as you are. You don’t need to be perfect. Perfect is a myth."

Cutting from the narrative a little, I feel like sexism plays a role for sure, people are too hard on teenage girls (read Bella Swan) in general, if they're too perfect? They're trash, if they're realistic and act scared or hopless? NOOO they're anti- feminist.

Asahi also looks up to Isabeau a lot but aside from just throwing a few nice words at the girl, what exactly DOES she do for Asahi? Nothing.

And when Asahi sacrifices herself during the Shesha battle? When she takes the hit meant for you and dies? It shattered me.

What's the first thing she does when she's bought back to life??

Apologize, something else that hit too close to home for me, I felt like apologizing for my entire existence, that my entire being was a mistake.

(Hallelujah pissed me off a lot here, false pity ticks me off )

It takes IMMENSE strength to admit that "Yes, I'm average, yes I'm not special, but my life still has fucking meaning"

Because I know what it’s like to feel so useless in the face of overwhelming pressure. To feel like the best thing you can do for others is to just disappear. Watching her say that she killed herself so she “wouldn’t be in your way anymore” was like looking into a mirror I never wanted to see again. As seen below, this scene made me tear up and sob loudly.

A friend of mine once told me, “Man, if Krystal were in this game, Asahi would never be treated poorly.” And they were right. If I had been there, I would have protected her. I would have told her, “You are not an inconvenience. You are not a burden. You never held me back. If anything, Gaston was the one dragging us down with his ego.”

They say, “Be the person you needed when you were younger.”

So that’s exactly who I will be—for Asahi. Always.

[shizukais]

[todayisafridaynight]

no cuz fr the most unexplainable thing would be how they didn’t reunite sooner like,,, Mine could have been staying away because he wansnt good enough for daigo (in his mind) but still i don’t think he’d stay THAT far away 💀 at most bro is down the street at any given time 😭

reviews are in for Mine Isn't Dead Actually But He Is Emo So

[girlivealwaysbean]

hey god if you've created someone for me can you introduce me to them sooner? i kinda need them now

[comradecowplant]

so things are not going well with my new elderly socdem friend unfortunately.