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teddybeartoji · 5 months

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MICKEYYYYY i saw ur wips and ran here as fast as i could !!!!!! ik we have already Talked abt vamp!geto x journalist!gojo x vamp!reader bUT im still begging for any crumbs or snippets u have they r my reason for being … same w knight!reader x prince!gojo i would love to know more abt the next part!! AND AND AND NEIGHBOR!MAKI??? I AM LOOKING

ARI ARI ARI ARI ARI ARI IT'S SOOOO GOOD TO SEE U HERE<333

welcome back to my brainrot!!! the vamps - i'm pretty sure (very fucking sure) that i'm just gonna have to write multiple parts for that au!!!! not really part 1 and part 2 but just snippets from their life i think. ofc the first meeting between gojo and geto and reader but then i really wanna write about shoko and reader too, like how'd they meet etc. i can see like a rainy day with a shivering shoko heading to her favourite bar after a long work day. it's a pretty unpopular place; she has her own little spot in the window booth and the bartender already knows what she orders. a neon light hangs from above the bar but otherwise it's just some random low lamps that barely light up the place - it's perfect like that. the music isn't too loud either, it's mainly 80's music and stuff alike that. shoko thought it a bit lame at first but now, it's one of the reasons she keeps coming back. it's a perfect escape from the life she leads. on that rainy night, though.... the door swings open and a hooded figure struts to the bar, barely catching shoko's attention. she's busy watching the raindrops bash against the window, the cig slowly burning between her fingertips. the quiet clearing of a throat does pull her out of it - it's you. dark eyes and an even darker small smile, pointing to the seat opposite of her. "may i?" it's so sultry, catching shoko a bit off-guard. normally, she wouldn't let a stranger sit with her. why would she? but you? you're different. something about you is already making her hook onto you. digging around in your little bag, you pull out a cig of your own. but no lighter. you lean your elbows onto the table and toward the woman before you. "do you mind?" she knows what you mean; she's already clutching the tiny fire machine in her jacket pocket. the cig hangs from your mouth, a confident smirk pulling on the corners of your dark lips. her hand raises to it, she flicks the ligher and watches your lips fully curve around the thing. it takes light, the tip turns a bright orange for a second before dimming down; you inhale. deep. shoko's hand remains in its spot. and exhale. she gulps.

and reader and sugu, how their relationship began and overall how their life together is (talking about this with momo and i haven't stopped thinking about sugu owning a museum and all that). OKAY AS I WAS TYPING THIS U REBLOGGED IT so i know u've seen that too but yk i wanna elaborate on that more bc i loved that idea and since i'm talking about it already HE DOES PAINT. 1000000% THERE'S A MASSIVEEE MASSIVE ROOM FOR JUST HIM AND HIS ART. in the mansion and in the museum. the room has big windows and he looooves to paint just when the moon lights up the room.... it's perfect for painting u.

aaaaaand i mean geto and gojo duo is something that needs a deep fucking study too................. like ur slowdancing idea????? it lives in my head. i don't think it'll ever leave if i'm being honest. anyway i think gojo is almost as infatuated with geto as he is with u. c'mon???? he's fucking ethereal how could he not be??? i think he follows geto around at the house a lot. he wants to know what he does at all times, just wants to know more about him (he wants to hold his hand)(he wants to play with his hair). geto definitely finds it annoying at first i think i already said that but yeah. but fret not he does come off it after a while. what if gojo asks him to teach him how to paint????? so he watches gojo do it, but when he needs help he steps right behind him, chest touching gojo's back, hand grasping over his, guiding along the canvas. do u think gojo is paying any fucking attention at this point?????????? fuck no i'm sorry but that man is popping a boner. anyway. gojo accidentally teaches him some dirty jokes - geto swears he doesn't even listen to him but the stupid one-liners just keep coming out of his mouth (a sign that he's spending a lot of time with his little bf)(he's trying to ignore that fact).

as for our little prince and our little knight - the next part is imminent i promise!! i know i said that last weekend too but it's definitely dropping this weekend lmao. we learn a bit about shoko's (and the knight's) childhood and finally our favourite duo gets to bond over some childish laughter. but only just for a moment though....

ANYWAY neighbor!maki is very much inspired by a scene from the movie bound (1996). maki and the reader have seen each other a few times in the hallway of their apartment complex but they haven't spoken - until the reader goes to ask her for help. and then they both understand how attracted they are to each other. no smut not even suggestive they're just kind of flirting it's cute. i literally have so little of it but i still love the idea so muchhhh i need to finish it maki deserves it i love her

prince!gojo (autumn)

he has also learned that shoko had a friend, who was ready to do anything for her and for others for that's sake. with a deep sigh, she confessed that she regretted not taking in the other kid. shoko was more quiet, more well-behaved in a sense but the other kid - they kept getting into fights with the knights of the castle. "i kept scolding them over it. but no, they just kept going. later i learned that all of those beatings and slashings were for other kids." her head hanged low as she spoke. "they kept taking the blame for the younger kids, so that they wouldn't get hurt. stole food, so that they wouldn't starve. i didn't know."

the prince nodded along, surprised to hear about this noble kid. "where are they now?" he asked in a whisper, a little scared to hear the answer.

"they left. around the time they were twelve, i think. shoko was miserable. brought me and her flowers and bread; the most polite troubled kid i ever saw." she sighed."i was stupid."

neighbor!maki

"hi!

"hi." your neighbor takes a second to look at you.

"s-sorry, i don't mean to impose but could i ask for your help?"

"with what?" she asks with a raised brow.

"um, my sink fucking broke. a-and i saw you with a toolbox the other day and i t-thought maybe you could help me? if not, that's totally fine."

"do i make you nervous, maki?"

"no."

she goes to grab the bottle from your hand, fingers brushing over yours.

"thirsty, maybe?"

"curious, maybe."

#WHEWWWWWWWWWWWW THIS GOT LONG SO RANDOMLY #damn i really can't stop can i smhhhhh #THANK YOU FOR ASKING ABOUT THESE ARI!!!#ALWAYS SO GOOD TO DISCUSS THEM WITH YOU #I CAN'T WAIT TO HEAR YOUR THOUGHTS #OKAY WAIT I'M SORRY IF UR NOT A SMOKER THOUGH #it's the role okay vampires smoke shoko smokes sugu smokes it looks hot #sue me #i also noticed that i keep switching between “the reader” and “you” idk if that's annoying or not u let me know #ari <3 #friends!!#wip game #mickey can't stop thinking

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hausofmamadas · 8 months

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| To live and leave fast |

⁂

Pairing: Andrea Nuñez x Horacio Carrillo

For @narcosfandomdiscord NarcOctober - Day 16 (+ a bit of Day 15 tbh)

Prompt: Day of Surprises (+ a smidge of Day of Absolute Filth) - create a fanwork that focuses on dreams (+ a smidge of character's moral corruption)

Word count: ≈ 2.3K

TWs: Canon-consistent violence, Real Big Sad, angst with some smoochin'

What was he doing here? He couldn’t answer her. The blankness of before was all he could conjure up and that vast emptiness set him on the edge of panic. okay sjsjs the way I told myself that I was gonna stop at 800 words and it becamekfjs this. So again, imsorryforeverything but uhh yea, I barely proofread this so the Spanish is prolly rough and so is everything else but hey! We can just blame it on it’s all a dream, right ….? Right??? Anyway, enjoy some shockingly non-antagonistic and sometimes tender back-and-forth btwn these two and probably the most ooc Carrillo to ever exist bc I’ve never written for him before. Idk why I’m so obsessed with this crackship but I am and it is what it is

⁂

Her voice rang out, “So, tell me. How long do you really think you can go on like this?” almost in time with the flashing red light that cut through the half-broken blinds, filling the dank, dingy room.

Carrillo tried sitting forward from where he must’ve fallen asleep slumped against something, presumably the wall of someone’s living room. No, not someone’s living room. No one’s living room. Because the place was a mess, covered in old takeout wrappers from Tijuana’s finest dining establishments, broken glass, cobwebs, and dust that would’ve been more befitting of an ancient tomb than this place. The smell of vodka or maybe rubbing alcohol burned his nose but he couldn’t pinpoint where it might’ve been coming from.

Was he even still in Tijuana? Huh. Well, that would have to wait till later. Anyway, he didn’t need to know what city he was in to know he was in an abandoned safe house. Which narco faction it belonged to didn’t make a difference. This one had to have been empty for at least a month, probably more, judging by the disarray. That and the insect activity. From Escobar to El Señor de los Cielos, the pace of the narco-lifestyle only lent itself to living and leaving fast, and whatever got left behind was usually beside the point.

Okay, but how’d he get here.

Maybe if he asked her, she’d stop looking right through him from where she stood across the room, arms crossed, leaning back against a mostly empty bookshelf that housed a few old books, some technical manual for car engines, and what looked like some old issues of Penthouse or some other stag magazine. High brow reading. He wondered if sicarios knew how much of a cliche they all were. Just once he’d like to meet one who enjoyed basketweaving, or birdwatching, or who was sentimental about their girlfriend. Anything that broke type. Then again, when it came to breaking type, he wasn’t in the best position to judge.

“Ay, por favooor, cabrón.” Startled, he jerked forward at the sound of her voice. “Remember when I told you that you were straight out of Central Casting for a war movie?” Clicking her tongue against the roof of her mouth, she scoffed, “Who are you to talk about breaking type, hombre?”

What the hell. How’d she– He didn’t– Or, had he— Was he talking out loud this whole time?

He sat up straighter and a pain lit up his right side, going from dull to blinding. Hands already at the damp spot on his shirt, trying not to scream, he could tell the wound there was bleeding more now from the pressure of sitting up. Wait no, that was good. Actually, he could use that. Inhaling with the strength of his whole body, he pressed his fingers down, jamming them into the wound, and let the pain accumulate in his chest and ribcage, then exhaled, hoping his breath would send the sensation up further to his face, his forehead, activate the muscles there to share the load of his heavy eyelids.

He didn’t think he was talking out loud, but then, he must’ve been since she’d answered. That meant something, he knew. He couldn’t focus though. Why couldn’t he focus? What’d it mean? Oh right, blood loss. It was worse than he realized. But why wasn’t she helping him? No matter how furious she was with him, that wouldn’t have been like her, standing there while he bled out.

“Ay pinshe Carrillo, no seas mamón. I was helping but you fought me the minute I started trying to clean the thing. And then,” brows knit in his favorite it-is-what-it-is position, she pointed to a puddle by his feet, “you knocked the bottle out of my hands,” then shrugged, looking around the room absently. “And vodka was the only thing I could find in this place that even comes close to sanitary. So, I had to wait for you calm down or pass out before I could do anything.”

He had no memory of that. In fact, he had no memory of anything before that dingy little room. Which was weird. He’d been hit in the head enough times that lapses in memory weren’t an altogether foreign experience, but usually he could remember something from before. Sometimes it might be hours before whatever disaster, but he at least remembered. Now, it was just blank. It occurred to him that he might be–

“–and you might be in shock,” she finished aloud.

Jesus, was he saying everything he was thinking? He watched her and waited, seeing if she’d answer more questions in his head.

That light outside kept flashing, bathing the room in a deep shade of red that danced off the broken glass, creating macabre shadows that skittered up the walls, across the floor, the ceiling. Through the blinds too, it cast alternating stripes of red and black on her face. It would’ve been beautiful if it wasn’t so sinister-looking. Well no, it made her more stunning, in a haunting, alien way, even though she looked how she usually did: hair messily pulled back, a few strands hanging in her face, wearing a tank-top and that button-up he’d found at the Salvation Army in San Ysidro. He couldn’t focus. That’s right, he’d gone to drop off some old dining chairs he had no use for, caught it out of the corner of his eye hanging with the rest of the men’s button-ups. And instantly thought of her. Why couldn’t he focus. The pain finally reached his eyes.

Again, she answered his thoughts. “Well, as much as I wanted to fight you for fighting me,” she looked down, pinching the collar of the shirt and wiggling it back and forth like a dollar bill, “I didn’t get far enough in the process of dressing your wound to ruin it. And it is one of my favorites. I have to give it to you, tigre. Your attention to detail is the stuff of legend, and they were not wrong.”

At that, he smiled tiredly. She rocked forward, kicking off the bookshelf, and strode over to him, bits of glass crunching under the gummy, rubber souls of her boots. Doc Martens. So practical. They really were, the two of them, the same sometimes.

“Andrea,” her name came out in a whisper and a wince as he clutched at his side. He looked down in a daze that no matter how many times he blinked, how wide he forced his eyes open, he couldn’t shake. “How’d th– what happened? What are you doing here? How’d you– ,” he grunted, shifting his weight to his good side, “mm– get here?”

“Te he seguido, obvio.”

What? She follo– he hadn’t even briefed anyone on the raid at Agua Caliente until right before. Trujillo would never. Walt? No, after the debacle in Juarez, he was too wrapped up needing this win to jeopardize it by talking to a reporter. Even one as dogged and persistent as Andrea. And yes, she was resourceful. But resourceful, not psychic.

It felt like a lifetime of sitting there trying put it all together and he didn’t remember when she’d started making her way towards him, but she was already kneeling next to him now, slowly removing his hands from his side. Her eyes and forehead pinched in such a way that would’ve amplified his concern if he weren’t so out of it.

Her fingers felt cold around his neck. “Árre, we need to get this off,” she said, unbuttoning the collar of his uniform.

He was alarmed when his hands brushed hers and he saw they were covered in some dark substance. Oh, blood. Strange, it looked pitch black in this light. Andrea continued working her way down, pulling each button gingerly, so as not to hurt him more. The closer she got to his stomach, the more her hands began to resemble his, covered in black.

“Dale, mija. ¿Me vas a explicar lo que haces aquí ya o qué?”

He wanted to rub his thumb across her lip as it curled up in a smug smile. “Why? Should I not be here? You want me to leave? Sure,” she craned her neck around, and called out into the empty room, “I’ll just be on my way then and let someone in this massive crowd of eager, good samaritans help you.”

He chuckled thinly. When she faced back to him, she began untucking his shirt as delicately as possible. It hurt like a sonofabitch but it was going to hurt no matter what they did, so he softened the corners of his eyes, trying not to make her feel bad.

She continued. “The better question I think is, what are you doing here?”

Once he was free from his dress shirt, she grabbed both sides of the hole in the white shirt underneath and tore it wider to get a better look at the wound. Blood leaked out in streams down his stomach to his waist. It appeared to be a large gash from some kind of shrapnel. Much too jagged for a knife. The harsh sound of air through her teeth was a good indicator of what kind of shape he was in.

Alright so, shrapnel. But he couldn’t remember an explosion and there was no evidence of one having happened there in the room. What was he doing here? He couldn’t answer her. The blankness of before was all he could conjure up and that vast emptiness set him on the edge of panic.

He’d been doing a passable job not reacting too viscerally with his face, but when she started rifling through his pockets on either side, he grimaced, growling, “Ay, Andrea! Qué coño estás haciendo, porfavor.”

Paying him no mind, she held out her hand like a surgeon waiting for a scalpel. “Knife.”

He jutted his chin toward his feet. Spotting the shiny silver clip, she grabbed the knife from his boot, flicked it out, and made an incision in the hem of his uniform shirt. Catching the free section in her teeth, she tore down the length of the initial incision, and started packing the vodka-soaked gauze that she’d managed to hold onto after his freakout onto the wound and tying it with the strips of cloth cut from the shirt. When she pulled hard, securing the final knot, he nearly keeled over.

“Aycarajoperdónperdónperdóname,” she said, catching him by the shoulders.

She stayed there, acting as his scaffolding until the pain subsided. He lifted his chin to rest his forehead against hers and catch his breath. Just in her wanting to help him, the assurance of her fingertips against his shoulders, he felt her helping him. He couldn’t remember a time he was so grateful for another human being. Grateful in the way only she could make him feel.

Speaking half to her and half to the ground, he tried putting the pieces together, “I don’t know what I’m doing here. For some reason–“ but lost the words when he’d barely gotten started.

“What?”

“I don’t know. It’s– I have this strange– I have a feeling we’ve always been here. And will … always be here.”

Andrea nodded, eyes closed, like she knew exactly what he was talking about. It might feel like a trap if they didn’t have each other. She was always more than enough.

After a beat of silence, she pulled back and looked at him sadly, like she knew something he didn’t. Which was odd given what she asked next. “Horacio, por favor, necesito saberlo. Why? Why did you do it?”

Why’d he do it? Why’d he do, what?

“I know it’s in there, I know you remember. You have to, or you’ll never make it out of here.”

He shook his head, squinting his eyes, confused and cranky like a kid prematurely woken up from a nap. “Make it out? I’m not gonna make it out. Not unless you help me. Look at–“ he motioned to his side, “Ni siquiera puedo andar, mija.”

“Yes, you can,” she insisted calmly, her eyes full of an inexplicable mix of hope and resignation.

What did she know that he didn’t?

“I don’t know anything you don’t know. You just don’t want to know it. But you have to try, tigre. Eso es la única manera de vengarte a él. No more cutting corners. No more deals with the devil. Eres mejor que eso, ya lo sabes.”

The devil. The devil. The flashing red light. Deals. Deals with the devil.

Ah. Calderoni. That. That fucking deal.

His own C.I.s in exchange for Calderoni’s intel on Agua Caliente, el Hipódromo, Carlos Hank Gonzalez. A bigger fish than the Arellanos. Even though he knew exactly what the family would do to the informants. They’d have to stop building bridges in Mexico to hang people from. He showed up in Tijuana to clean up Rebollo’s mess and gone ahead and made his own.

Still, she was never part of the deal. But he could guess how that happened. In some boardroom meeting he conveniently wasn’t present for, somehow “journalist” and “informant” got conflated. They were wise not to include him. Not only would he not have agreed, he would’ve ensured not a single one of them made it out of there on two feet and breathing.

So, is this what it’s like watching the boulder come crashing down the mountain for the hundredth? Thousandth? Millionth time?

Carrillo’s face fell with understanding. “But I can’t lose you.”

“Sí, pero lo tienes que hacer. You have work to do. Because I love you. And you love me. And you owe me. And,” she rolled her tongue along the inside of her cheek, and then flashed a dangerous smile, “I want you to burn the whole motherfucking thing to the ground.”

Then, cradling the back of his neck with both hands, she leaned in, lips christening him on the forehead, each of his eyelids, the tip of his nose, coming to a close at his own. There was a finality to the kiss that made him dig in deeper as if he could hold her here without lifting a finger, an urgency she returned so fiercely, when they broke away both their lips were swollen and flushed. Not without passion, but it wasn’t carnal so much as the pure desperation of goodbye.

“Going after those pinshe shingamadres is the least you can do.” He hadn’t even registered tears at his eyes until she brushed one with her thumb that had escaped down onto his cheekbone and mused, “After all, you are the reason I’m dead.”

∴

Slapped with a blast of air, his whole body jolted back to life, as he came to in a cold sweat, ceiling fan taunting him from above while he gasped for air and shivered against the damp sheets. He was so used to waking up violently like this, it didn’t even scare him anymore. Confused him a little, maybe. But reassurance was quick to follow and his breathing slowed as he relaxed, because ah, yes, he knew how to deal with the nightmares now.

Like clockwork, he reached for his life preserver, turning and throwing his arm over to the other side of the bed, expecting to feel the warmth of her back, her shoulders, hear her steady breathing next to him. But his hand sailed straight through empty air and landed on the cold, vacant spot of the mattress instead.

He almost doubled over. Pain unlike anything.

Worse than when Trujillo first delivered the news to him in his office. Much worse. The perpetual renewal of shock that this was real and the place in that dingy room in his head was not, only sharpened the blow each time. But he deserved to be wounded and wounded like this over and over again. After all, he was responsible, she was right about that.

She wasn’t here to help him with the nightmares anymore. Now, she only lived in his.

═

taglist: @narcosfandomdiscord @ashlingnarcos @drabbles-mc @narcolini

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sunshinepixels · 1 year

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EVERYTHING WRONG WITH THE TEEN WOLF MOVIE

bc I hate it more than I've ever hated anything in my life 😭

Allison is back from the dead and somehow stays alive by the end of the movie as if that's not unnatural af !!! Like she's a human? how is that a thing? why did they do this? I love Allison, I really do but her coming back to life and not being laid back to rest by the end of the movie was so psycho and bizarre. Idk why they made that choice but I hated it

Derek apparently had a child 15 years ago and Allison died 15 years ago so somehow he had a child in season 3? When? When would he have time to do that? He was literally with Jennifer that season 🤨 so when did he make this kid who he seemed to have always been in the life of ? the math isn't mathing. ik teen wolf math sometimes doesn't make sense but I excused it bc I like the show but since I hate this fucking movie I will not excuse it. Jeff Davis tell me how the fuck Derek somehow had a kid in season 3!?

Who is the mother of Derek's child? (We all know that Stiles is the other parent) but fr why is she not mentioned at fucking all??? like it felt so unnatural, like they were specifically talking around it or some shit. I swear Eli never even says the word mom once!! how? why do they act like she doesn't exist? at this point I'm gonna assume Derek made this child asexually through budding or some shit cus wtf

IK Dylan O didn't want to be in the movie but they didn't have to do everything in their power to pretend Stiles didn't exist. The only references to him were the Jeep and Lydia's dumb dream. It made it seem like Stiles doesn't keep up with them anymore and that they don't keep up with him, and that's including his fucking dad. It's so unnatural and ew. I'm also very sad that Kira wasn't here but ik why Arden didn't want to do it. Fuck Jeff tbh. Kira was barely mentioned also, I don't think they EVER said anything about her at all. It's giving Jeff is bitter or smth.

This movie dragged so bad, it was boring as shit and I struggled to get to the 2 hour mark. It was actually painful for me to watch . I wanted to skip through every scene basically, trying to get to SOMETHING interesting, but it was rare that anything like that was going on

Some of the style choices were weird. The clothes they had Deaton in weren't right, it didn't feel like something he'd wear at all. Also so weird to see Chris in a turtleneck, idk if he's worn one before but it looked weird. Peter ate though, I have to give them that.

WHY WOULD MASON BE A FUCKING COP? What about him screams cop? 😐 He should be working with Melissa at the hospital or doing LITERALLY ANYTHING ELSE.

Parrish and Malia 😐 disgusting. He knew her as a teen!!! like hello?? that's weird af! I already hated him and Lydia, bc why is he going after a freshly turned 18 y/o and I was hoping that the writers would know better by now then to do this weird shit but obviously they didn't

What exactly was Harris back for? He barely explained what happened to him or what he knew? It was dumb. If they left him out, I don't think it would've impacted the movie or what we know about Harris at all. Also, I don't remember if they explained but why was he alive anyway?

Abolish Eichen House

Some of the sets were very ugg and didn't feel like teen wolf at all

Peter sniffing the ground like a dog ☠️☠️☠️ SO UGLY 😭 but so hilarious, best scene hands down

Curse count: 9 Shits and 2 Motherfuckers (both from Chris which is funny asf)

The movie was not fun, it didn't have the fun vibes of the original show, all the jokes were meh and didn't live up to the source material.

who tf is Eli's mom 😐 I'm serious

why did former best friends Mason and Liam barely say one word to each other 😐😐😐😐 idc if they had no time, they should've been hugging and crying in the background or some shit

Why did they decide to make Derek burn???? LIKE HUH??? That was sick ! The worse possible death they could've given him! Like that's TRAUMATIC!!! Like were we meant to think this was poetic or smth?? cus I don't. I just think it's sick and weird. Not only that but they made him leave his kid. at this point why'd they even give him a kid just to kill him off. it also kind of felt like they exchanged a dead person for an alive person

the way Liam and Hikari pronounced I love you in Japanese was so bad. im not a language expert but that didn't sound right at all. truly horrendous, get a language coach on set or smth cus that ain't it

them having Allison come back and go back to dating Scott felt very character regressiony for him. like ik he loved allison but so what? you don't need to always end up with your first love. he literally was able to move past her death and get in other relationships. it didn't feel like he was holding a torch for her, it felt like he was able to get past it but now it doesn't. idk it's weird

seeing clips from the tv show made me wanna take the shit off my screen and put on the real show

and lastly this movie didn't need to exist and is not canon in my head

#nonsims #teen wolf movie #spoiler #warning #long post #bc im mad #if there are typos idgas #bye #don't watch this shit yall #and if you do #i hope you heal after watching #teen wolf #teen wolf movie spoilers

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starg1rlie · 1 year

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if ur fine with it 💍w/scara? my personality is pretty meh imo, im mostly extroverted and very talkative. if i’m honest i’m pretty ambitious with a lot of things and i’m very self disciplined according to my close relatives and friends. also i’m pretty confident in myself but not overly confident to the point i’ll start doing the most stupidest things. i also believe im well organized so i’ll freak tf out if everything is a mess (one time i had a mental breakdown bc i forgot to clean my room before going to school). also i’m pretty rude on a surface level, since i unintentionally insult people right in front of them. though with closer friends im very gentle n kind with them, i’ll show a lot of affection to them even in public. that’s mostly it so now moving to the hobby parts, personally i don’t think i have one? since mostly i’m studying, but if i do have free time i’ll either make plans with friends or play video games. i do have a little talent for the piano, i’m pretty mid at it but i can play a few songs. mostly i don’t have time to explore hobbies since i have extracurricular activities and studying💔 + some stuff wit my personality i forgot to add. whenever i pursue something i’m definitely not gonna take any break until i’m close to achieving it :)

(mb if i didn't pay much attention to your personality traits/hobbies, i was simply busy thinking of little things the two of you would do. i hope i incorporated enough to satisfy you, and make up for how long it took me to push out this post...)

pushing him in a shopping cart

at first, he protests. a lot. but he’ll get into the cart eventually, only because you’d bug him for the next week or so if he didn't. lowkey has to hold onto the side of the cart because you’re definitely going to go zooming down the aisles. he’s the one who grabs the stuff while you’re just having the time of your life. y’all get called out by the employees later but it was worth it :)

helping him paint his nails black bc he's going thru an emo phase

scaramouche does not see the appeal of bright colors. he himself prefers black, white, and grey, which are all simple and monotonous colors. like him/j. which is probably why his wardrobe looks like it went through the black and white snapchat filter. he even paints his nails black, or, well, attempts to. his adoptive little sister, qiqi, paints her nails black as well, because she wants to be like gege too. you end up painting both of their nails some of the time, and then yall post pics of you guys flaunting your nails like "don't mess with the emo bitches."

holding hands on the bus together

since your school is far, and most definitely not walking-distance, your friendly little neighbor (yall live in the same neighborhood) and you end up walking and waiting at the bus stop quite often, unless scaramouche's mom isn't too occupied with her girlfriend to drive him to school. you'll purposely sit next to him, just to piss him off, which works, but he'll take your hand in his anyways. if you breathe a word about it to anyone, though, he'll murder you.

cooking/baking (burning the house down) and failing miserably at it

he takes after his mum (ei), so i wouldn't suggest letting this emo boy within six feet of a stove or oven. of course, you ddin't know how bad it was until the two of you attempted to bake a birthday cake for his sister, qiqi. everything was going smoothly (minus the eggshells in the cake batter) until someone forgot to look after the oven. the cake (obviously) was ruined, burned black and was as hard as a brick. still, you had to make do with what you had, and scaramouche did some pretty decent icing work, even though qiqi refused to eat it, saying it'd break her teeth. another time, the two of you attempted to make a simple stir-fry, and apparently, scaramouche didn't understand that you had to stir slowly and carefully so that the food inside wouldn't spill out...you two ended up cleaning cabbage and chicken off of the stove for the rest of the night.

babysitting his (adoptive) sister qiqi

since ei is often busy at work and with her new girlfriend (pretty woman, her name's yae miko), scaramouche often finds himself looking after qiqi on his own. she doesn't really bug him while he's doing his homework, thankfully, but he does feel a tiny bit bad about leaving her with nothing to do. that's your cue. he'd call you to come over, and the two of you will probably just watch movies, play sorry or monopoly (scaramouche always seems to get bumped back or in jail), and stuff your faces with the chocolate ice cream in the fridge, even though ei specifically said no chocolate for qiqi. but rules were meant to be broken, no? and besides, he had to spoil his little sister some of the time, didn't he?

neat. 👏 freak. 👏 couple.

i swear, yall are a couple of fucking neat freaks (no offense). there ain't a spick of dust or a single pencil out of place in your guys' rooms and it CREEPS. ME. OUT. ahem, anyways. if your room (or his) ended up becoming dirty (which would probably never really happen to you, more on his side anyways), he'd probably help clean it up, but its mostly just you two vibing to the spotify playlist he set up.

he'll listen to you play the piano

whenever he's not busy, he'll pull up a seat next to you and just, quietly watch you play. he never comments about it, but if qiqi is in the same room, she'll clap her hands together slowly. she's actually quite fond of your piano music, and will probably ask you to teach 'gege' so he can teach her.

ngl, you probably insulted him

i'm not even gonna mince words here. you probably insulted him on his first day at your school. "damn, what happened to your horomones?" he glared at you and said that not all guys got the best of the gene pool. your day-to-day interactions with him at school has probably been mostly just you talking down on him and him just shooting insults right back at you 💀

he has to deal with you overworking yourself

he'll find you, laid out on your table, with exam papers spread out under your arms, snoring like a beast (no offense if you don't snore like that, or you don't snore at all-) and will gently place a blanket over you, along with a chaste forehead kiss. "the only reason you get better grades than me is because you overwork yourself so much," he'll murmur under his breath as he quickly finishes off whatever project or homework assignment you'd been working on.

matching bunny hats (yk, the ones w/the floppy ears <33)

he finds them ridiculous at first, but qiqi grew fond of them, and eventually, she was able to get him onboard about it. of course, you have to take a few (a lot of) photos, and even post a cute lil' couples tiktok of the two of you guys' ears flopping up in sync <33

#scaramouche x reader #scaramouche x you #scaramouche x y/n #scaramouche genshin impact #wanderer genshin impact #the balladeer #genshin x reader #genshin drabbles #genshin fanfic #genshin impact #( ﾉﾟｰﾟ)ﾉ leeo writes!

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harryconcepts · 1 year

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part 71

bestie harry who absolutely hates your bf 😌 when you're at a bar with him and harry shows up a bit later with some friends he's coming right over to see you 😌 he's all "this guy bothering you?" about your bf and you're laughing but your bf is soooo pissed off 😌 Harry's putting his arm around you giving you a kiss on the cheek saying "hi sweet girl" acting like he's your man and he has absolutely no respect for your bf standing two feet away 😌 Harry's bigger and taller anyways so he knows he would win in a fight 😌 he's waving down the bartender to buy you another drink even when your bf tries to say "I'm buying for her" harry just completely ignores him 😌 by the end of the night your bf is so pissed off he literally just leaves without you, you're watching like ???? because he's you're ride home so you turn to harry and he shrugs saying "shame" and then he gets himself a water saying "guess i better sober up since I'll be bringing you home 😌" and that sounds like a wonderful plan to you 😌 you both end up going back to his house to watch a movie and when you're all cuddled up to him on the couch you say "you would never do that to me, would you?" and he hums, looking down at you to say "do what sweet girl?" and you say "leave me at a bar" and he sighs, knowing you're a little more upset than you let on, and he says "of course not, I would treat my girl how she deserves to be treated" and you smile and cuddle a little closer to him 😌 a little later in the night you've both fallen asleep on the couch, but you wake up to your phone ringing and you see that it's your bf. you sigh and say "what should i do" and he shrugs saying "whatever you want, i guess" so you decline the call, then say "he'll come looking for me" and harry says "that's okay, i could take him 😌" and you know he'll keep you safe 😌

whatever you do DON'T think about harry eating you out and how his nose rubs against your clit and how he would hold your hips so tight to keep you still and how he would stop you from grinding against his face just to tease you 🤕 how he would mock you gently for being soooo needy bc he just loves to hear you beg 🤕 just don't think about it just don't 🤕

no bc imagine how feral harry gets when you're pregnant.... you're his beautiful wife carrying his baby and he's just so obsessed with you 😋 your hormones are a little wild and you're all over him and he is more than happy to give you anything you want, however many times you want it 😋

harry when you start talking about babies 😋 he would be so sweet to you always, being all "have to be so good to my pretty wife, my pretty wife who's gonna give me a baby" 😋 and when you're "practicing" as he loves to say he would be all "gonna cum for me, my sweet girl? give me a good one and I'll give you a baby" and he's holding you so close and giving it to you soooooo good 😋 and when he cums in you he would absolutely push it back in with his fingers, shushing you gently when you whine from how sensitive it is and saying "just wanna make sure it really worked" and he's just feral😋

i feel like harry would love that you sleep naked 🫶🏻 he's like oh 😌 I like this 😌 this is nice 😌 putting his hands veeeery gently on your boobs just to hold them 🫶🏻

but think about that scruff being.... places 🤕 how it would burn just a little on your thighs and you wince, he would immediately stop and be doting on you all "what's the matter sweet girl ☹️" and you brush your thumb over his chin and say "it's just prickly" and he's getting up saying "I'll go shave right now" but you stop him and say "I like it... just be gentle please" and he would be so feral 🤕 the way some of the little hairs would brush against your clit and get you even closer and then he would be able to taste you for a while after 🤕🤕🤕🤕🤕🤕

no he would always be so eager to please you 😋 always begging you to sit on his face or to let him use toys on you, he doesn't care he just wants to be good for you 😋

no he would take your clothes off with his teeth 🤭 just think... him kissing down your neck whispering "pretty, pretty girl" and smirking at how you whine and tangle your fingers in his hair 🤭 he would say "can i take this off?" with his fingers running over your sides soooo gently and teasingly and you're stuttering to say yes and that only makes him move slower 🤭 he would kiss down your throat and his fingers move to the buttons but then he stops for a second and his hands go back to your sides, you whimper and say "please stop teasing I just want-" and he shushes you saying "I'm gonna take care of you, you know I always do sweet girl... be patient hm?" with his nose dragging along the skin of your collarbone 🤭 finally his face is low enough and right when you're about to beg again he starts using his mouth to undo the buttons and you're about to pass out from how hot that is 🤭 you're gripping his hair so tight and trying to stay still so he can work but you can't help but move your hips against his a little 🤭 he doesn't mind though 🤭 he just keeps working and finally gets all of the buttons undone and when he lifts his head you're looking at him like 😶 basically begging with your eyes 🤭 he just smiles and says "you're still wearing far too many clothes" and he kisses down your tummy to get to the button on your jeans 🤭

getting into a fight with harry 😔 maybe it's one of the first times you have an argument in your relationship and you're both just so upset over it because you both hate fighting but things just boiled over 😔 and I think he would definitely never yell or raise his voice but he knows things are getting really heated so before either of you can say anything hurtful he just takes a deep breath and says "i need to go for a bit... I'm going to go for a walk, I just need some time" and you're so upset over that but he says "I'm not leaving, and i promise I'll be back i just- I need some time to myself" and with that he's out the door and you're in tears already 😔 he comes back a few hours later and you're on the couch wrapped in a blanket, he comes over to you and sits down but he keeps some space between the two of you and that hurts more than anything else 😔 he hands you a cup of coffee from your favorite shop and it's quiet for a minute before he says "I'm sorry" and you're already interrupting him saying "no i should be apologizing-" but he cuts you off, shaking his head and saying "just let me talk? please?" so you nod, and he sighs saying "i shouldn't have said any of the things i did, and I'm very sorry about anything I said that hurt your feelings... I never ever want to hurt my girl like that" and you're trying to hard the little tears in your eyes but you're not doing the best job 😔 and he feels like crying too just from seeing you so sad but he knows it's not the time 😔 he takes a shaky breath and says "so if you want me to leave for the night i understand, just give me a minute to get some things and then I'll be out of your hair" and he's already getting up from the couch but before he can even take a step you're saying "no, please don't- I want you to stay" and he's a little surprised, he thought maybe you'd want some time away from him after you were so unkind to each other but he says "of course, I'll do whatever you want, always" and before he can say anything else you're getting up to give him a big hug 😔 your voice is muffled against his chest when you say "I never want you to leave.... I don't care how mad I get i still want you to stay with me" and at that he really can't help crying a little bit, he just loves you so much 😔 knowing you're his girl and no matter what, you can always work things out with him😔

wailing and sobbing and screaming thinking about how harry is always so respectful during sex ... always making sure it's okay to touch you or take clothes off and always asking before he does anything and always checking in with you to make sure you're doing okay and feeling good 😭🤕🫥👹👺

don't think about making out with Harry and don't think about how he would feel you getting restless under him and don't think about how he would smile against your lips and murmur "does my baby want something?" and don't think about how he would be so cocky when you just whine and don't think about how he would slip his fingers into your panties and don't think about how he would mockingly gasp and then say "you're wet, love" and don't think about how he would say "want me to do something about that?" and he would move his fingers so slow and teasing until you finally say yes and tell him what you want 🤕

I am actually embarrassingly ticklish like i can not handle having someone even touch my stomach or neck bc I will scream and i fear... i fear harry would take advantage of that 🤕 he would love to hear your laugh more than anything else so he would allllways be coming up and teasing his fingers over your sides because he thinks it's so funny how you squirm away 🤕 he would smile so big saying "oh yeah? that tickles?" and you're laughing too hard to even answer but he just says "what's that? can't hear you baby, use your words for me" 🤕🤕🤕 he just loves your body and loves to make you laugh 🤕

the first time you and harry have sex after saying i love you 🤕he would be so emotional and needy and he just wants to feel close 🤕 he would nudge his nose against yours and say "love you so much, my sweet girl" and then he would make you cum for him 🤕

i fear harry gets a little turned on when you cry... when he's made you cum three times and he has to hold your hips down to keep you still bc you keep trying to squirm away from how intense it is, but he has such a good grip on you that all you can do is lay there and cry about it 🤕 when his fingers brush over your sensitive skin again you're shaking your head and you manage to get out "no more, I can't anymore" and he would stop touching for a bit, he would come up to look at you and pout gently saying "need me to stop? we can be done if it's too much, pretty girl" and he thumbs away the tears 🤕 you take a second to breathe and then say "no, I don't want to stop" and he would smile and say "that's my girl, taking everything so good aren't you?" and he nudges his nose against yours for a kiss 🤕 while his lips distract you his fingers slip down again and when he brushes them over your clit you let out a pathetic little cry against his lips because it's just so much and with the way he's laying on you you can't even squirm 🤕 he would pull away to look at you and then pout even more, wiping away the fresh tears and murmuring "such a crybaby for me, hm?" while his fingers keep working 🤕 then he would say "that's okay, I like it when you cry for me" and dig his fingers a little deeper 🤕

harry knowing you have to have the blankets tucked just right or the bed made a certain way or you can't sleep, he would think it's so cute 🥹 you would apologize saying "I know it's a whole process I'll be done soon sorry" and he would say "no, it's good that you know what you need to be comfortable" and he would help you get everything settled so you can lay down together 🥹

the way Harry would get so sad if you weren't communicating well with each other 😔 he would give you a hug and say "sweet girl, we don't do this... I need you to talk to me, I need you to tell me what's going on" and he would make sure you two get lots of time alone where you can just be with each other without any pressure or stress 😔

the way Harry would always make sex about you 🤕making sure you're feeling so good bc he just wants to please his girl 🤕 he would always say stuff like "I want to give you whatever you want, my pretty girl deserves whatever she wants" 🤕 sometimes you get worried maybe it's taking too long and he's getting tired but he would always shush you and say "I don't care how long it takes, I'm not going anywhere until you're ready for me to stop" 🤕 he's so gentle with you because he just wants to please you always 🤕

hm... he's posted multiple signs about wanting attention... i fear he is obsessed with giving you all his attention and teasing you for being so needy even though he actually loves it... he's always saying stuff like "my girl is so needy for me, hm? just wants all my attention, doesn't she... let's see if you can handle it then 😋" mocking you soooo gently but still being sweet and giving you whatever you want 🤕

harry would love to help you find out what you like 😁 he would be all over you whispering "we can go slow... i want to take my time with you, learn what makes you moan" 😁

i fear harry has a b*gging kink first and foremost and he refuses to give you anything you want until you "beg pretty for it" and he would be so mean too, edging you until you're near tears and then he would smile against your skin and say "I know you can do better than that, I want to hear you beg- you know i can do this all night" and he really can, he'll hold out on you for as long as he wants until you give in 🤕

idk if you've talked about this before but prosecco y/n would definitely joke w Harry and call him old man 😭 even tho they're only a few years apart and he knows she's in love with him she would love to rile him up by saying "come on old man it's time for bed" and he would be acting all fake offended saying "old? get over here, I'll show you old" and then absolutely rock her shit 🤕

...proof that he would hold out on you until you're good for him 🤕 he would absolutely edge you and make you squirm until you're begging and pleading him to just let you cum already and he would smirk against your skin saying "gonna be a good girl for me then?" and you nod, he would smile and say "then I guess you get what you want" 🤕🤕🤕

... harry bending you over 😵‍💫 he would talk so filthy before he even does anything, he would say "want me to be rough with you? want me to bend you over? filthy little thing, aren't you" and he would do it 😵‍💫 he would hold onto your hips to keep you still and he would be so cocky when you push back to get him to go harder 😵‍💫 he would be all "so sweet for everyone else, but you're such a little slut for me" 😵‍💫

it's snowing again 🥹 i know you hate snow but just think of laying with harry on the couch while it snows and you sip hot chocolate with extra marshmallows watching a show together 🥹 it's so cold and gross outside but that doesn't matter because you're with him and he's keeping you warm 🥹

starting the semester and finding out you have a few classes with plugrry 😋 you're very surprised to see him but obviously not complaining when he walks up and asks if the seat next to you is taken 😋 you're all "no, it's open" and he sits 😋 then the next time you have class he gets there before you, when you go to sit you see he has two cups of coffee on the table 😋 he slides one towards you and says "good morning" softly, you smile and don't question how he got your order exactly right 😋 from then on he brings you coffee every morning, even when you say he doesn't have to he's all "i don't mind, i like seeing you smile" and that has you bluuuushing 😋

okay.... he would find your little vibrator in your bedside table and decide it's his mission to try it out on you.... he would have so much fun thinking about all the ways he could use it and all the ways you would react... one day when youre kissing in your bed he would pull away and be all 😏wanna try something 😏 and he always makes you feel so good so you agree, then he reaches over and opens the drawer and pulls it out and you're blushing so hard it hurts saying "how did you-?" but he just says "i just know these things, I know how girls work 😌" then he would say "so can we try it 😁" and you say yes because you know he'll make you cum so hard 😌he says "lay back then, I'm gonna make my pretty girl feel so good" and he would be so teasing 😌 he would for sure touch it against one of your nipples to have you squirming and making some pretty noises for him, then he would trace it down your tummy and finally put it where you want it 😌 he would have to hold your hips down because you're moving so much but he doesn't mind 😌 and he would tease you the whole time, when you're feeling so good and too out of it to talk he's cooing "does that feel nice sweet girl?" and kissing at your cheeks 😌 you claw at his arm when you're close and he's all "i know, it feels so good doesn't it? want to see you cum for me" and he clicks the setting up higher 😌

angel swearing during sex 🤕 aster would be sooooo cocky knowing she never talks like that but he can get those words out of her 🤕 he knows he's fucking her just right and hitting all the right spots when she starts letting out little breaths of "fuck, fuck, fuck" into his shoulder 🤕 and he would tease her so much saying "oh, that's not a nice word from such a sweet girl" and that only makes her whine more 🤕 he would smirk and say "that's alright, I'll let it slide since you sound so pretty saying it" but he would be so condescending knowing he's the only one who can get her so out of it 🤕

being so shy to ask for him to bend you over because it's so dirty but you know it feels so good 😵‍💫 and he would never give it to you until you ask because he likes teasing first 😵‍💫 then finally when you say the words and you're blushing so hard he would be so feral 😵‍💫 he would have one hand gripping your hip and the other reaching around to play with your clit and tease you even more 😵‍💫

aster would so tease angel when she's more confident about sex and asking for what she wants 🤕 ofc he's never mean or making fun of her but just a little mocking bc he can't help it 🤕 he would be all "what happened to my shy girl, hm? you used to be so sweet and innocent, now you're asking for me to-" and she would cover his mouth with her hand bc she knows he's going to say something filthy 🤕 he would grin and pull her hand away, saying "you know I'll give you anything you want, all you have to do is ask, pretty baby" and he would run his thumb over her blushy cheek 🤕

#harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles/reader #harry styles/you #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles #harry concept #harry styles blurb #harry styles x y/n #harry styles imagine

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hyah-lian · 2 years

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Ao3 link here!

I was feeling really bleh today and slept on qnd off a lot(I overdid it and went way past my comfort zones and limits yesterday), so yesterday and today's prompts are still blank. I did write one for Sick on Vacation a bit ago and I want to post it early bc I'm not sure if I'll have time tomorrow. I hope you all like it. It'll stay on tumblr for now, but I'll update to ao3 once I feel more capable.

Lowkey also some sunburn, but not counting it for the prompt bc I have another idea for that Frostbite/Sunburn one. Wind and Four and Granny! Set up: Wind woke up sick the day after they landed on his home island, and is confined to the lowest bunk in the house with cold cloths to fight the heat and fever.

Does it count as a vacation if you're at home?

---------

Four pushed open the window’s shutters and popped his head out into the sun filled day.

“Hey!” They whisper-yelled, “quiet it down, or move along!”

Wind whined and slammed himself back into the pillows. Four turned back and raised an eyebrow at the sailor. The chatter of the rest of the chain outside on the sandy clay path heading to the beach filtered in past Four with the sea breeze.

“I can’t believe it! Its so unfair!” Wind scowled, squinting at the thatched ceiling. He knew he was whining, but couldn’t help his voice pitching while he was so busy trying to stop the spinning room and rocking head.

“Nothing ever happens when we come to Outset,” he scrubbed at his eyes. Damn it. “Its always sunny, and fun, and nothing happens, and-!”

“Settle down, Link,” Grandma petted back his bangs from his roasting forehead. She tossed Four a sly wink, “your friends, here, are going to want some cheese to go with that vintage whine of yours.”

“Gramma!” Wind rolled his eyes in an exaggeratedly wide arc as she laughed into the kiss she placed on his forehead.

He laughed anyway, and Four smiled along. Their face stung with the sunburn, but chapped lips be damned. Wind smiled despite his own chapped lips and poorly appearance. Four wrung out and passed a new cooled facecloth to Grandma.

“Thank you, Four,” Grandma smiled over at him after plopping on on Wind’s forehead, “do you want anything for that burn of yours, dear? I’m grabbing our esteemed pirate some more ice and some ingredients for dinner from Beedle’s float, so if he’s got anything you boys need, I can get it.”

“No thank you, ma’am, I think what we’ve got in our bags is alright for now.”

“I bet you Wild and Sky are gonna swim out to his dingy and torment him without us,” Wind pouted.

“They shan't be dear,” Grandma patted Wind’s shoulder, “Beedle has set up on the dock lately. With you gone on adventures nobody swims out to meet him anymore.”

Wind rolled over to face the wall, sniffling. Four didn’t dare mention the watery look in the sailor’s eyes. It felt a bit like prying to be sitting in the small house with the family while Wind was upset like this.

“I want to go swim out to his boat and torment him.”

“I know,” Wind’s grandma rubbed his back a little more roughly than Four thought one should do to someone who is laid up with a fever. “I know. You will.”

“I can go get those errands done for you, if you’d like? I think if I borrowed a hat with a brim it would be okay-” Four offered.

“No, no,” Grandma stood up and started making her way to the door, “it’ll be good for these old bones to move around. And it’ll do you both good to keep out of that sun and heat today.”

#linked universe fic #linked universe #wind lu #four lu #sickfic #linked universe sickfic

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moroneur · 2 years

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Gaster x Yn but..

Yall i literally dreamt about this. MC and YN are 2 different people. Basically YOU Yn are supposed to be the side character of MC's Story where she dates all the skeleton boys (og + alternates) and you kinda just.... third wheel at them all. Like imagine theyre at a beach that MC invited Yn to and no one is paying attention to them or eve hanging out with them bc The skeleboys just cant help but gush over their s/o. Which is fine, theyve got a healthy relationship and all but like why invite yn when ur not even gonna hang out with them amirite.

SO even while the skele-household decided not to mess with the mashine anymore (as it has been years since the start of these transportations and everyone kinda gave up) tHE MASHINE STARTS WORKING AGAIN and this time is spews out the original Gaster, but he's in a form of a puddle and Y/n gets invited to the skelehousehold for an event or whatever and Y/n just decides oh ok this piece of puddle is my friend now i shall call it 'Doctor' and gie it a tour of the house and try and feed it yep.

OFC Gaster doesnt really stay a puddle, he rehabilitates himself and evoles into the melted form we know from the game. He doesn't really go outside of his room, focused on making his form evolution or whatever go by quicker but Y/n is curious and decides to check in on him. Oh shit.jpg he starts speaking windings and ur like oh shit new language let me learn and he kinda teaches u wingdings?????????? He just shows them the alphabet and they just write it down on their laptop with pictures! aand they learn that way. yes. Y/n is a college dropout and works as a photographer but can learn some real good shit when they want to and are actually interested in the topic.

Maybe this'll be a slow burn..... like AN EXTREME slowburn...

His next form is a younger version of himself. Looking very young there my sir hohohoo anyways-- He starts calling Y/n his assistant and they become close acquaintances, with Gaster being set on being on good terms with u. One day y/n's over and he figures out that NO ONE TALKS TO THIS MAN. it has beeen months and none of the other skeletons other than the original just-- dont fucking speak to him?? so Gaster is lonely in a full house of skeletons instead of alone in the void and u decide wtf thats not how you treat my homie so you decide to confront the hosuehold and WOW the rough skeles have some trauma bc of their shitty gaster well ok wow how does y/n work this out??? WHY OF COURSE LET'S BAKE COOKIES GASTER HAHAHAHA!!!!

My guy immediately agrees but is also set on figuring out the ABSOLUTE BEST recipe for cookies, that everyone would like. So he spend one entire day researching what ingredients are best and which amount and which way of baking it would be ideal-- HE WENT ALL SCIENCE RESEARCH ON THIS SHIT. ok ok ok ok wow thats so cool1!!!! Next day they bake yippee!!! Mid first batch u get a call from ur roomate who tells u they broke ur laptop and u just go irrationally apeshit and MC being so close to u knows how to comfort u so gaster and the skeles have a chat while u and MC work things out hahahahaha THERES MORE IDEAS THAT I HAVE BUT THIS WILL BE ALL FOR NOW I WAS ALSO THINKING ABOUT GASTER MEETING THE EX KING AND QUEEN AND STUFF YEYEYEY

#dreaming #wd gaster #undertale #gaster #MC has a skeleton harem and ur sick of being the third wheel so #get your own boyfriend from the void #how to basic #life lessons #ao3 stuff #moroneur #simpleposts

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the-acid-pear-ocs · 1 year

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Okay I'm gonna run down the events recently happens in Stardew Valley talking of my thoughts and ideas and everything.

Okay so basic run of events: Damon goes to the mines and is nearly killed. He goes back home exhausted and at the verge of death. Due to blood loss he accidentally drops a bomb inside the shed and cannot react quickly enough to run away or put it out or whatever.

THAT'S the canon framework. Unofficial bc i reset the day but canon anyway. Very similar to how Mila lost her leg funnily enough. Considering they are my first and last saves and considering they both are dating Emily... It's sussy 👁️👁️

Anyway that aside. Let's point out some other facts.

1- Damon was already in bad fucking shape because he had died in the mines the day ago too. Going to the mines right after probably was a terrible idea. There's something to be said about his self preservation skills.

2- Because he was in the mines and because he's a fashion icon he was actually mildly well prepared!! He had the squire's helmet and "iridium" pants. Can't for the life of mine remember the t-shirt tho but... It probably wasn't as protective. So while severe brain damage and facial scars might've been avoided, just as severe damage to his legs, the same cannot be said about his torso and arms.

Now, let's go slightly over the happenings OUTSIDE of Damon's perspective! Because what about Emily and the baby huh??

Well i, i actually don't know if Emily was in the house? I assume she was. So: your husband comes back from all day out in the mines, you don't see the state he's in but you assume it's alright. An hour passes. Suddenly, deafening loud sound. Worried, you run outside. The shed next to your house, the shed your husband works at, destroyed. Burning, in fact. And in between the debris of the machinery that was blown up and the fire and the wood burning down you see the shine of the helmet, same helmet you saw yesterday when you went to bed, same helmet that made you chuckle because you couldn't believe someone would be comfortable sleeping with that but he reassured you it was fine. Your husband is below the wood and fire and debris.

Now i actually am not sure what one is supposed to do in this situation because i don't think these people own a fire extinguisher 😭 but maybe someone else on town would so despite it being 11 pm i think in the desperation Emily would run into town begging for help. Not like the explosion wouldn't have woken up many around already, of course.

I feel like the damage would've been severe enough for Harvey to not be able to help out alone, that is once and however Damon is pulled out. He definitely got his chest stabbed something and he might have a few broken bones. More than one limb got to be barely saved, very broken bones and at least one finger got lost.

He's cut he's burnt he's broken his lung is about to collapse and he's losing so much blood so they have to transfer his ass to a hospital in the city.

God, can you imagine the aftermath too? Having poor Emily be questioned by the authorities, everyone trying to figure out what the fuck happened... Honestly it would be actually embarrassing when discovered what DID truly happen.

By the way, i think the ghosts might've interfered. Y'know, AS much as a ghost can. But the sheer fact that Damon survived and didn't like, get all his limbs blown apart and shit, considering a MEGA BOMB BLEW UP RIGHT BESIDES HIM is a miracle on its own as the doctors would later agree.

Emily would've probably wished to be able to stay by his side on the hospital but she couldn't do that, having the newborn baby and the whole farm to take care of now... But i want to believe the other residents would take turns helping her. She would be so fucking heartbroken and stressed though...

Mr. Qi would probably interfere in some level with Damon's recovery tho, I'm sure. I mean, this was but a very unfortunate accident and he liked Damon! He was doing a good job!! It wasn't his time yet. So he might have mailed a little gift that might have helped speed up the recovery.....

I feel like Vynil would also visit him in the hospital. Somehow she would find out and that's how Emily had to learn her husband had a sibling he never mentioned 😭 she might even go ahead and help in the farm temporarily until Damon is well enough 😳

Most people probably couldn't go visit him but i feel like one or two close friends might've gone out of their way to check on him... Like Kent and Willy 🥺 the rest would probably still send gifts and letters tho <33

I don't want to even think about how this would've affected Emily mentally... Like her husband nearly killed himself by not knowing his fucking limit!!! She would be sooo pissed when learning the truth like what if the fire spread out what if the house burned what if he just fucking DIED what was gonna be of Verde then he can't be so selfish like this he's not alone anymore he has a family and and and !!!!!!

I doubt she would say that to Damon's face tho. Not like that at least.

Dw for Damon mentally tho, he would just be upset at the time wasted and... Maybe a little self conscious about the left over scars on his body but hey, they look kinda sick actually! Like battle scars. He would probably be most upset about the money though which would ironically make him try to work harder again which, would make Emily get grey hairs.

Although who knows maybe the whole shed was rebuilt as a little gift for him!! That would be nice of the town, to give ever so little back to the man who gave them so much...

I will try to think his wounds and similar thru later. And do a lil arts of it . . .

#[stardew valley ocs]#[damon]#forgot i never fucking posted this fsr omfg

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shurisneakers · 3 years

Note

if you're taking ideas for harmless drabbles, i'd love to see one of bucky on one of those dates he mentioned and reader's shenanigans. if you aren't, feel free to ignore this!

a/n: are we really going to let a word limit define what a drabble is? is the vibe and spirit not enough? i say this bc this is 5.7k words long im so sorry. also hey thank you to everyone who piped in with their knowledge of violent geese and how apartment security works in new york!! also thanks to my bby @spiderrpcrker for reading this and telling me to publish this bc i wasnt going to fkjghfkj

warning: swearing, bad luck, dates, frustrated bucky, anxiety, mentions of gore but like only a sentence

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <333

Catch up with the rest of the series here: Harmless Masterlist

Bucky returns only two weeks later. His mission lasted longer than expected and all he wants is to lie down and sleep for forty eight hours straight.

“FRIDAY?” he mumbles, kicking off his shoes. His jacket had already been discarded by his bedroom door when he walked in.

“Yes, Sergeant Barnes?”

“How are ya?” He doesn’t miss a beat in asking, even though he’s exhausted.

“As good as ever. Did you have a successful mission?”

“If by successful you mean one sprained limb instead of two, then yeah.” He wasn’t really cribbing. His ankle was already starting to heal anyway and it was worth the roundhouse kick to a Nazi's face. “Do I have anything scheduled for this weekend?”

“You have a meeting on your calendar scheduled for this Saturday.”

“Could you send a text to Y/N and ask if we can push it to the next day?” His muscles feel sore and God, he could definitely use a hot shower but all of that becomes secondary the minute he feels the sheets under him.

“Would you like me to reschedule the other one as well?”

“What’s that?” He opens one eye in confusion. “There’s another one?”

“It’s on Sunday. You’ve labelled it ‘date’.”

Ah, fuck.

“Would you like me to change it?” FRIDAY never sounds like she’s judging him, which is nice. It also reminds him about how she, as an AI, can’t judge him, which is a rude wake-up call to how he doesn’t have friends.

“No,” his voice is muffled against the pillow, “no, let it be. Where is it again?”

“You’ve only specified diner, Sergeant Barnes.”

Public space, daytime, plenty of escape routes. Good on his less delirious self for selecting a diner.

“Thanks, FRIDAY.” Now that he’s a little more relaxed, he can feel himself slip in and out of consciousness.

“One last thing," her automated voice commands his attention again. "Y/N replied. She says sure and to take care.”

“Yay.” Not even a second later he’s out like a light.

____

“Did you bring me any souvenirs?” Is the first thing he hears as he marches into your lair.

“What could I possibly get you?”

“A postcard, a t-shirt.” You don’t look up from your tinkering.

“Decapitated finger, used bullets,” he continues, “cement blocks.”

“Ew.” You snap the lid shut on the thing you’re working on, spinning around on your chair. "That's not nearly romantic enough."

“That’s all you’re going to get from a Russian underground bunker.” He does a mini jog up the stairs of the platform to where you are.

“Does the finger have a ring at lea- oh hello?” You raise an eyebrow at the sight of him. “You look different.”

He peers down. The outfit was still all black. As always.

“Not your clothes, dummy,” you interrupt, making him look back at you. “Your face. What’d you do?”

He unconsciously raises a hand to his cheek.

“Did you wash your face? Is that it?” you squint at him. “Has it been a few months since the last time?”

“Wow, you’re so funny,” he drawls sarcastically. “Top tier comedian right there.”

“No wait, it’s the beard.” You snap your fingers in realisation, completely ignoring his comment. “You trimmed it.”

“So what if I did?” He leans on your table.

“You going somewhere?” you ask, elastic snapping against your hands as you remove your gloves.

“It’s none of your busi-”

“Hold on a second.” A sly smile begins to make its way onto your face. “Are you going on a date, Bucky Barnes?”

His comeback dies down in his throat. That didn’t take you very long for you to figure out.

“I’m right, aren’t I?” You look smug, to say the least.

“Shut up.” A ray of light glistening distracts him. He traces it to the thing you were working on earlier.

“Where are you guys going?” You cross your arm across your chest, a small smirk on your face.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” It’s a silver box, engraved intricately with swirls that, when he observes carefully, looks like a skull. Wow, terrifying.

“I’m literally asking you.”

“What are those?” He shifts the conversation towards a more productive angle instead.

“Evil in a box and some other stuff.” You shrug offhandedly. “Is it a lunch date or just coffee?”

“Like Pandora’s Box?”

“A discount version, sure,” you confirmed impatiently. “Stop changing the topic, listen to me.”

He tilts his head, waiting for you to continue.

“Do you need a chaperone?” The sincerity in your voice for such a bullshit question has him scoffing.

“Good God- no, I do not need a chaperone. I’m 106 years old, I can go out unsupervised.” He reaches over and plucks the box off your table.

“Sir, you’re a geriatric."

“What are those?” He points to a few ray odd ray guns.

“Minor stuff you don’t have to worry about right now.”

He shakes the box in his hand. “What’s gonna happen if I open this?”

“Very bad things,” you whispered ominously before your volume returns to normal. “How’d you meet this person? Online?”

“She’s Natasha’s friend.” He turns the box over, seeing a small latch at the side. “What bad things?”

“Bad luck and misery. Don’t play with it, it’s dangerous.” You pull the box away from him. “Aw, is it a blind date?”

“Why do you care so much?” he shoots back, tugging the box back towards him.

“Just lookin’ out for you, Bucko,” you huff, adjusting your grip on your device. “Need to keep my favourite senior citizen safe.”

“I have a vibranium arm.” Whose force he could use to grab the box once and for all, but wasn’t. “I think I’ll be fine.”

“What if she has one too, huh? Then what?”

“She doesn’t.” As far as he knows, he’s the only one alive with a metal appendage made out of the strongest metal in the world. That could very well change by tomorrow but he's keeping the title for now.

“But what if she does? I swear to- stop trying to take the box!” You pull a little more forcefully, but he doesn’t relent.

“I want this to get over before this evening.”

“What time’s your date?”

“Why do you care?” He’s sure anyone who saw the dumb tug-of-war you both were playing would just automatically assume he was an absolute manchild, not an Avenger.

“Because.” You don’t explain further. “Tell me what time your date is, you weirdo.”

“Five o’clock, now let go.”

“Fine,” you say, suddenly loosening your grip. Clearly, it doesn't make much of a difference since he isn't struggling to keep his balance from the sudden loss of force.

“Fine.” He clears his throat, straightening up.

You don’t say anything. He doesn’t either.

A putrid smell creeps into his nose, one all too similar to spoiled milk and decaying seaweed. He has to physically stop himself from gagging.

“Have a good day.” You smile and lean far back. Too far. It looks like you're almost going to fall out of the chair.

Through the tears that are threatening to line his eyelids, he looks down at the box whose latch you somehow managed to lift, leaving the box open.

“What the fuck is this?” He coughs, swatting at the air in front of him to clear it.

“I told you; bad luck in a box.”

“You can’t scientifically create bad luck, that’s bullshit.” He tosses the box back onto your table. You watch it slide past you, not making any effort to stop it. “What is it really?”

“I’m not lying.” You pull open a drawer, brandishing a small table fan that you set down beside you. “If you open it, you’re going to have terrible luck for the day.”

He glowers at you when you turn the fan on, forcing the fumes back towards him.

“Besides, that’s all I was doing today.” You kick your feet up. “So you can leave now.”

He doesn’t care if you’re lying about not having anything else to do today. You could burn down the world if you wanted to but he needs to take a stupid shower. Again.

“You’re the fuckin’ worst.” He tries airing out his shirt, hoping that the smell would dissipate as soon as possible.

“Have fun on your date, sarge!” you encourage him as he stalks out of the lair. “Remember to wrap it befo-”

He turns it into a sprint before you can finish.

____

Six hours later and he’s absolutely convinced he fucked up.

He isn’t used to having his weekends free.

He realises that this is the first time in months that he’s actually stepped out of the Tower for something that wasn’t directly mission-related. He should probably get some air. Touch some grass. See the sun.

His shirt thankfully manages to rid itself of the odour from the dumb box so he didn’t have to go take a shower. With nothing much planned and a few hours to spare, he heads to the coffee shop instead.

It’s a small place, bustling and alive with a crowd of people. They have a little bookshelf that usually is full of books donated by patrons, free for anyone to read.

The barista smiles at him. The coffee costs more than his high school education. He awkwardly smiles back.

He’s not a regular, but they’ve seen him enough times to know that he usually asks for black coffee in a to-go cup, later adding a sugar or two according to his own taste. They're nice to him, occasionally throwing in a cookie or something on the house. He can't tell if it's because of the Avenger status or the sizeable tip he leaves.

He picks up a random book from the shelf, fully intending not to read it but to just sit there and think. The book acted as a shield for his resting bitch face, resting murder face and his resting rage face. More often than not, a good combination of the three.

He sets the coffee down at the corner table he manages to nab in a quick second, along with the two sachets of sugar.

“Is this seat taken?” Someone asks from beside him. He earnestly shakes his head in a ‘no’, gesturing for them to take it.

They give him a quick thanks and drag the chair away from his table.

He does a quick overlook of the book he picked up.

The Princess Diaries by Meg Cabot.

Well, now he’s too anxious to put it back. YA fiction it is.

He reaches for the sugar while glossing over the summary. He reaches a little further when it doesn’t come to his hand immediately, blindly running his fingers across the table.

Bucky peeks over the book, eyebrows knitting together when he notices that they’re missing.

He was sure he picked it up.

He looks underneath the table. It wasn’t there, neither under his seat. Strange, but okay. He picks up the book and the cup, walking back to the station to grab two sugars.

This time he makes sure to tuck it into his pocket, double-checking before going back to his table.

Which was now occupied. He wanted to groan.

His mind automatically reverts back to the box from that morning.

“Come on,” he scoffs quietly to himself. It was a coincidence. “Get yourself together.”

“A seat at the counter just cleared up,” the barista from earlier offers when she sees him standing in the middle of the store.

See? Good luck.

He shoots her a grateful look, venturing over to the barstool to take his place. It’s not the most comfortable, but then again, he wasn’t planning to stay there for very long.

He empties the sugar into the coffee, stirring slowly before opening a random page in the book.

He takes a long sip, ignoring how hot the drink was.

He chokes immediately. Because either he was losing his mind or his order had somehow got switched from ‘no sugar’ to ‘diabetes in a cup’.

He takes another small sip and his face immediately twists in disgust. Definitely too sweet. The sweetener he added only made it worse.

He catches the eye of the barista. She looks on in concern.

“Is everything okay?”

Fuck.

He’s not one to make a scene. He just wants to live as imperceptibly as he could.

“Yep.” The sweetness sticks to the back of his throat. “All good.”

He just closes his eyes and downs the rest of it without thinking twice, trying to hide the grimace in his face. He gives her a weak thumbs up. She doesn't look convinced.

He leaves the shop soon after, hands shoved in his pocket. Maybe he could go sit by the lake at Central Park, watch the clouds. It reminded Bucky of the lake in front of his hut in Wakanda and the hours he'd sit in front of it, feet dipped into the water as his goats fed. He misses it.

He makes a sharp turn at a corner, still thinking about his options when his ankle abruptly twists under him.

He stumbles rather ungracefully, almost hitting the ground, but manages to save himself through the newly built up immunity he has towards falling thanks to all his encounters with you.

His gaze lands on his hardcore combat boots. Their laces had come undone.

Now he just knew that was horseshit. He always double knots them; they had never loosened in the past before.

The box.

He shoves the thought out of his head, crouching down to tie them again. He tugs on them to make sure they’re secure before standing up again.

Central Park is a few blocks away but he’s glad he didn’t bring his bike. The weather was rather nice and the wind in his hair felt good.

He wanders around the park for a while, looking for the lake. He pauses at a board with a map of the park on it, assessing how far it was.

Once he's ascertained which path to go towards, he turns on his heel to go.

He fucking trips again.

“Are you serious?” he says furiously under his breath. “Cut it out.”

He’s half-convinced that he should tie it around his ankle like a sexy lace-up set of heels. He ties a triple knot this time, glares at it until he’s sure it’s fine and checks to see if anyone saw him humiliate himself.

Only a person on a nearby bench who looked like they were passed out drunk, given that their hoodie and sunglasses clad self was slumped over.

No witnesses. No 'You won't BELIEVE what the Winter Soldier did! Critics say it's his biggest blunder yet!' articles the next day on social media.

He manages to make it to the lake in one piece and no more falls, partly because he keeps his eyes fixed on his shoes to ensure no fuckery occurs.

There are a few people rowing and plenty of others lining the bank at scattered locations. There’s a mom and her kid at the place he ends up. She sends him a small smile in greeting and he returns the favour.

There’s a secluded bench that he takes a place on, letting out a small sigh. If he ignores the traffic and the skateboarders and the people in general, it’s actually kind of peaceful.

There are geese and their little goslings swimming around the water close to the shore. Maybe he should have brought some birdseed. Or kale.

The kid beside him is busy fashioning something out of leaves, only occasionally erupting into giggles when it doesn't pan out. His mom watches him fondly, pointing at twigs he could use. Everything seems kind of picture-perfect and his body automatically relaxes, easing further into the seat and closing his eyes for a second.

Until there's a large splash and loud distressed honking. He whips his head around to find the same kid staring straight ahead at the goose with a wide grin. His mother curses quietly, picking herself up off the ground and grabbing his hand, half chastising him for throwing something at an animal and half urging him to walk faster.

The goose turns to Bucky. With no one else to blame for the sudden attack, it logically launches itself at him. His smile drops.

He gets up in a rush. The dumb bird nearly comes for his head, but he deflects with his metal arm.

“I didn’t even do anything.” He swats at it swiftly, trying not to cause any real damage. The goose, understandably, does not speak English.

He flinches when one of them bites at his knee. He can punt it to the sun but he doesn’t want to.

“Stop that.” He sticks his hand out to shove the stupid thing away, retreating back to the road. “Jesus, why are you so aggressive?”

Among the barrage of feathers showering on him, he prays his damn shoelace doesn’t unravel as he shields his head with one arm, the other fending himself while he moves hurriedly away.

The goose honks angrily at him. He scowls at it, not exactly pleased with the reminder that these fucking overgrown ducks were constantly bloodthirsty.

It doesn’t leave him alone till he’s significantly away from where he was sitting. He wants to call it profanity but that’d probably piss it off more.

The box and its effects were definitely starting to feel real.

Fuck it, no more day out for him. The best plan he can think of is to just go to the diner he’s supposed to meet his date at.

The waiter greets him with a courteous nod, which Bucky can only imagine was the best he could muster when a dishevelled 200-pound man walks in covered in goose feathers and irritation.

He won't admit that he’s too scared to eat lunch at this point because he can’t rule out food poisoning. He spends the next two hours on his phone playing Fruit Ninja and plucking feathers that accented his all-black outfit.

Several glasses of water later and a second before he’s about to beat his high score, someone taps on his shoulder, breaking him out of his concentration.

Motherfu-

He clenches his eye shut, inhaling deeply before turning around.

“James?”

“Hey, yeah, that’s me.” Bucky almost falls over the table with how fast he stands up, clearly underestimating his size. “Leah?”

“Hi.” She smiles and he finds himself smiling nervously along with her.

“Hi.” He steps out to pull out her chair for her and she laughs. "Nice to meet you."

“How long have you been waiting here?” she asks while setting down her bag.

“Around ten minutes.” He clears his throat to hopefully hide the fact that he was lying through his teeth.

“Just give me a second, I need to tell my friend I reached,” Leah pulls out her phone and he nods.

“Another glass of water for you?” The waiter seems less enthusiastic about Bucky’s 8th refill.

“Yes,” he answers, hoping he doesn’t call him out on it, “please.”

“You must be really dehydrated."

Bucky turns to look at him slowly. “I like the taste.”

He can’t really blame the guy. Bucky’s been there for hours without ordering anything solid, just leaching off their free water and complimentary bread basket.

“So, James.” She tosses her phone back into her bag, leaning forward on her palms easily. “Tell me about yourself.”

He had rehearsed this a million times. He could do this.

“I, uh,-”

“Menu?” Okay, so someone clearly had a vendetta against him.

“Thank you.” She takes it with a smile.

His morning debacle with the coffee flashes through his mind. Suddenly the idea of a diner didn’t seem so smart.

However, she’s already placed her order and George is standing beside him expectantly, daring him to ask for another glass of water, so he places his usual order and hopes that your stupid bad luck thing wore off.

He quickly learns that his date is laid back, and it isn’t hard to fall into a rhythm with her even though she’s the one asking most of the questions.

“How’d you meet Nat?” Is his attempt at one.

“She used to come in for lunch every week at the place I work.” Leah leans back in her chair. “She can really handle her alcohol.”

He’d be worried about Nat day drinking if he didn’t know about her complete inability to get drunk. She might as well have been downing glasses of lemonade.

“Yeah, she’s-” Intimidating, scary, cool “-really something.”

“She mentioned that you like movies.” He definitely spends a lot of time watching them. “You got any recommendations?”

It’s easier to figure out how different things are or how much he missed out over the years through them. He’s glad he sat out the early 2000s, judging by their fashion sense and hairstyles.

He's watched several movies over the past few months, a few of them critically acclaimed and others who were just there for the cult following.

But now everything goes blank and the only thing that he can remember are the biopics made about Steve that were somehow hilarious for gifting him the mental image of Freddie Prinze Jr. dressed in the stars and stripes, and highly distressing for the number of historical inaccuracies. Contrary to popular belief, Stevie did not, in fact, consider running for president after he took up the shield, nor did he start his own bar chain.

He can’t name Oh Captain, My Captain starring Channing Tatum as his favourite movie on his first date and hope to make a good first impression.

“Despicable Me was kinda fun.” He wants to kill himself. “I mean, it’s the last one I saw.”

Her face twists in mild disgust, but he can tell it isn't ill-intentioned. “It's a good movie, but God, that just gave me some intense flashbacks to my aunt’s Facebook page. Don’t think I can look at a minion ever again.”

He sniggers with her. He doesn’t know what the context is.

He’s a little awkward, and he can definitely tell he isn’t the most open book but she laughs at some of his attempts at jokes. There’s a distinct discomfort he has lingering at the back of his mind prodding at him, telling him over and over again that he isn’t ready for something like this. A warning bell, asking him to leave as soon as possible because he was in a dangerous situation.

He remembers what his therapist told him about breathing and remembering that the resources he had available were greater than his anxiety and he tries to get out of his head. It takes a few minutes of acting like he's fine but he manages to do it.

Other than the one time he scalds his tongue on the coffee but played it off with a pained smile, shoving down thoughts of your stupid invention, things actually went okay.

It was nice, even though they decided by the end that it was better if they both gelled together better as friends. It lifts the strange fear he feels and he can hear Dr. Mendoza say she's proud of him for taking this step before spending three hours psychoanalysing why they decided to stay platonic.

Bucky promises to visit her sushi shop with Nat soon and she says a bottle of sake awaits him for a drinking game. He doesn’t have the heart to tell her that Nat and he share the same tolerance for alcohol.

He makes sure to leave George a tip. A big one. It’s the first time he sees the guy smile the entire evening.

He’s waving goodbye to Leah outside and he thinks that maybe it was a good end to the day and that things actually turned out fine.

Until he turns around to leave, only to have someone walk straight into him with an iced tea.

The cold comes as a bit of a shock, making him jump slightly. He stares at his shirt, using his fingertips to pull it away from his body.

The person melts into a series of apologies immediately, offering to dry clean his shirt but Bucky just forces a shake of his head and says it’s okay even though he can feel the sugar making the shirt stick to his chest. Goose feathers and iced tea. Was there anything else that would like to attach itself to him?

His fists clench and his teeth grit and he has to physically control himself from sprinting to your lair because God knows what else is in store for him and he didn't want to add in any way.

The door to the lair is locked. Fuckin’ brilliant.

When no one answers after minutes worth of waiting, he fishes for his phone and realises that maybe two hours of Fruit Ninja was not the best idea, especially on a phone known for having shitty battery life.

There’s roughly 2 percent left. By the time he opens his app to give you a call, his phone screen goes black.

He groans. He’s desperate at this point and under any other normal circumstances, he would have never, ever considered doing this.

But ten minutes later he’s outside your apartment building. You’re aware that he has your address; no doubt that it was in the SHIELD file he had gotten, and he knows that you know but it was still weird.

The buzzer has your last name listed next to it. He’s sure that he’ll break it if he keeps pressing it at this rate but he really needs you to let him in.

“Who the fu-” your voice comes through the intercom.

“I’m sorry for showing up like this, my phone died and I couldn’t reach you,” He breathes out as soon as he hears you. “But I need you to fix this.”

When he doesn’t hear a reply, he wonders if the thing actually worked. He’s about to start pressing it again-

“Bucky?” You sound a little surprised to hear him. “You’re at my house. Why are you at my house?”

“I need you to fix whatever this is.”

“What are you- fine, I’m buzzing you in,” your voice, initially confused soon trails off into something more dismissive.

There’s a soft click from the door, allowing him to push it open. The elevator is already on the same floor as him so he just uses that.

The elevator goes up a floor or two. His feet tap restlessly against the carpeted floor.

The lights turn off and everything comes to a standstill. His foot stops tapping.

He should have known. He should have fucking known.

Thirty seconds pass. He’s still in pitch darkness with the elevator showing no signs of moving.

In fact, he’s resigned to his fate. He sits down on the ground, only one step away from completely laying down and hoping someone finds his body here someday.

It’s six minutes of plain silence. He might as well get comfortable if he’s going to get stuck here for the rest of his life. Did he change his will? Does he even have a will?

There’s finally a whir. He thinks that maybe he’s going to plummet to his doom as the perfect end to this day, but then the light switches on and it starts moving upward.

It stops at the floor with a ding. He doesn’t get off the ground, only eyes the door wearily. With his luck, it wouldn’t open.

But it does and within a second he’s on his feet, scrambling to get out before it changes its mind.

He remembers your door number, basically charging down the hall to get to it.

The door is white and the paint is starting to chip off it. The handle itself is dented in a few places and he wonders if it was your fault or someone else's.

His knocks are rapid, agitated even. He doesn’t stop until he hears your loud shouts telling him to cut it out.

“What the hell were you doing, trying to break down my door?” It swings open, revealing you in your pajamas. “Haven’t you done that already? And where were you, I’ve been waiting for like, ten minutes.”

He honestly feels bad for showing up uninvited and highly flustered. He can’t imagine it’s a pretty sight either. "This bad luck shit- fix it. My whole day’s been fucked up.”

“What are you-” Your eyebrows knit together in confusion, taking in his appearance.

It takes you a second to realise what he’s talking about but when you do, your face settles.

“How was your date?” You lean against the door frame, arms crossed over your chest.

“Really,” He glowered at you, “that’s what you care about?”

“Yes.” You nod. “Did you have fun?”

He hesitates. “I guess?”

“Was she nice?”

“Yeah.” Where was this going.

“Good, I’m happy for you.” The smile on your face is genuine. “Look at you go, Casanova.”

“We agreed to be just friends, but that’s not the point here. Y/N,” he whines. “I have a mission next week, I can’t afford to fuck up. My whole day was off and I don’t want it to carry over.”

“Your whole day?” you questioned, standing up instead of leaning against the wall. “Buck-”

“Just fix it.”

“Okay.” You lift your hand up, extending it towards his face.

He waits for you to do something.

You flick him on the forehead.

“There,” you declare, going back to your previous position. “you’re cured.”

What.

He says exactly what he’s thinking.

You laugh. “Dude. I was fucking with you.”

Huh?

“Well, actually maybe just like, three things and then I got bored.”

He’s confused.

“You know,” you begin when he doesn’t reply, “taking the sugar packets, switching your coffee order when you were looking under the table, took your place when you left, the shoelaces.”

“The shoelaces?”

“Yeah.” You nod. “That’s the other ray gun you saw this morning. Unties your shoelaces. I stopped after that because I thought you figured it out.”

His face scrunches in puzzlement.

“I mean, you looked right at me and told me to cut it out.”

He racks his brain about what you could possibly be talking about before it hits him. The hungover person on the goddamn bench in the park.

“You were the one in the hoodie and sunglasses.”

“I just followed the Avengers’ code of disguise.” You shrug. “Turns out it kinda works. Also teleportation. So helpful.”

He forgot about the teleportation. That's why you could do all of it so fast without him noticing you were even there.

“What about the fucking geese?”

You pause for a second. “The geese?”

“And the elevator.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” The confusion on your face is apparent. “What geese and elevator? I have no idea what you’re saying right now.”

“Everything’s been a mess today,” he grumbles. “I don’t know what’s real or not.”

“I swear I had nothing to do with it other than what I mentioned.” There’s indignation on your features that quickly gives way to delight. “Holy shit, did I just accidentally invent portable bad luck?”

“Okay-” his palm finds its way to his forehead in exasperation, “-then what the hell was the smell?”

“What smell- oh, the one from the box?”

He nods briskly.

“Secretions Magnifique.” You snorted. “It’s a perfume. The worst rated one I could find.”

“Perfume?”

“With notes of milk, seaweed and sandalwood.”

“It wasn’t an inator?”

“No, it wasn- did you get vibe checked by a goose at the park?” You stifle a laugh when you notice a stray feather on his thigh.

“What does that even mean?” he asks in despair.

“I can see why it attacked you. You got bad juju.” You raise an eyebrow. “Maybe if you stop staring so much-”

“So I just have shit luck.” Is that a fucking relief or even worse?

“Well,” you begin but decide not to continue.

Even with all the irritability masking it, you could see that he genuinely was just not having a good time.

“Wait here a second.”

You leave him at the door. He shifts his balance and sighs, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. He still had to walk back to the Tower. Maybe he could grab a slice of pizza along the way since he skipped lunch.

“Okay, here.” You return with a large glass of water. He only looks at it. “It’s just water, I promise. You look like you ran a marathon."

He takes it from you sceptically, pushing away the urge to sniff at it. It’s gone within a few gulps.

You wait until he’s finished to point at his arm. He draws his eyebrows together, but you only curl your index finger and beckon for him to give you his hand.

He reluctantly extends it towards you.

“Don’t laugh,” you warn him, taking his metal arm. “This usually helps me.”

You tie a small bracelet around his wrist. It has a few beads, which he realises represent the colours of the solar system.

“Keep that for good luck.” You pat it gently after securing it. “I think you just had a bad day; those don’t last very long. Do you want to charge your phone before you leave?”

“Uh-” The bracelet’s pretty, the colours shine against the dark vibranium. “-no, I’m good. I’ll just leave.”

“Okay. Anything else I can help you with or will you be fine?”

He narrows his eyes. “You’re being suspiciously nice.”

“I’m not evil all the time.” You huff. “My hours are in the morning.”

“Okay.”

“Okay,” he says again. “I’m gonna go then.”

“See you next week.” You give him a little wave. “I’d say break a leg on your mission but knowing your situation...”

He scoffs. “Thanks.”

You make a move to close the door when starts walking down the hallway towards the exit.

He adjusts the beads slightly so he can see them better. The Earth one has glitter in it. He thinks it’s cute.

“Bucky.”

He turns around.

There’s a hint of a smile on your face.

“Take the stairs.”

He doesn’t have to be told twice.

Next part

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #mcu fic #bucky fic #bucky barnes fic #bucky fluff #bucky barnes fluff #bucky angst #bucky barnes angst #harmless fic #winter soldier x reader #Winter Soldier #bucky barnes #bucky

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lemonlushff-iy · 4 years

Photo

Do you want to play a game?

You do? Good.

You know how these games work if you’ve ever seen one of Clearwillow’s...but game rules are HERE since it’s slightly different! I hope this is fun for people...that was my goal! And I hope you catch the “Easter Eggs” in it. I’m curious how many people will find them all.

I’ll post everything once it’s done on FFN and AO3, and you can catch what I’m doing for @clearwillow‘s game early on my Patreon HERE! (It might be more smut...It might be fluff. WHO KNOWS! It will be OLR related...and it will go up as soon as it’s finished!)

Special thanks to @underwater0phelia for kink help and @clearwillow for additional edits...and the IYFF BC for brainstorming! Art by @clearwillow for @eringobroke - used and edited with permission.

And now without further ado... The first treat (aka, the “freebie”).

Starting Fires

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters from the Inuyasha universe.

"Inuyasha, stop," Kagome giggled, trying to wriggle out of his hold as he pressed wet kisses up her neck. "I don't want to burn your bacon…"

"It's just bacon," he reasoned, his hands sliding up under her shirt. Or should he say his shirt? Fuck...there wasn't a better sight in the world than his best friend...his best girl...Kagome...Wearing his shirt in their kitchen in their house. Now that he had her again, he weren't never letting go of her. "I don't mind eating something else for breakfast."

"You will when your stomach is rumbling later," she blushed, grabbing his hands and pulling them down, his fingers grazing over the lace fabric of her panties. "Behave yourself and go grab a cup of coffee."

"I'd rather grab your—"

"—Coffee!"

She reprimanded, flipping the bacon in the pan. He placed a gentle nip to the side of her neck before moving away from her, a disappointed pout on his lips.

"Fine. But let it be known that I'm doing it under protest," he grumbled, moving to his cabinet to pull out a mug.

"Your protest has been duly noted, Sir," she teased, turning away from the stove to pick up her own cup of coffee. She brought it to her lips, sipping from it as she watched Inuyasha pour himself some. Their life together felt so surreal still. It felt strange to wake up in their house and cook them breakfast.

But it was a good kind of surreal.

The kind where she found herself pinching her arm to make sure it wasn't all some crazy dream. This was their life. And...she loved it.

"Mmm," he moaned, taking a sip from his cup. "As good as ever, Kags," he grinned toothily, and she risked entering his personal space to press another kiss to his lips.

"Glad you like it," she replied, running away from him again when he moved to squeeze her ass. She removed their bacon and eggs from the pan as a text message chimed on both of their phones, and Inuyasha raised a brow in curiosity. She watched him slide his thumb across the screen, before muttering out a low "Huh" as he read the text.

"What is it?" she asked, picking up their plates and placing them onto the island.

"See for yourself," he shrugged, placing the phone down next to her plate. "It's from Sango."

That already piqued her curiosity. Kagome picked up the phone, leaning over the countertop as she read it.

"Hey Guys!" She began aloud. "Miroku and I decided to throw a Halloween party this year. We know it's a bit last minute, but we were hoping you guys could come since you aren't heading back out to California like you thought. Let us know if you can make it! Trying to plan in terms of food. Love you!"

"Love you too," he grinned, and she couldn't stop the shy smile even if she wanted to. She didn't think she would ever get tired of hearing that again from him. The words were like a balm to her soul.

"What do you think?" Kagome asked, handing him his phone back as he began digging his fork into his eggs.

"Up to you," he shrugged. He really didn't care either way. He was just glad he didn't have to go out to California with her. Though, to tell the truth, he wouldn't have minded. They could have had a night in...just the two of them...And he was always a fan of nights in with her. But..."We can go. I know you wanna…"

It was true too. He had seen the way her eyes lit up when she was reading that message. The way she was practically bouncing on the balls of her feet. Kagome didn't want to spend the night in. She wanted to spend her first Halloween back in Montana at a party with old friends.

"But...You...Don't?"

He shrugged.

"Don't matter either way. I'm fine going. I'm fine staying home and fucking ya seven ways from Sunday."

"Yash!"

"What! It's tha truth," he replied with a smirk. "And you can't tell me ya don't like the sound of it," he continued, running his tongue over his fangs. The cute little blush he pulled from her was worth it.

"Well...How about a compromise?"

He paused, lifting his brow in curiosity.

"Go on…"

"What if we went to the party...Just for an hour or two...and then afterward we can come home and have sex? Oh! We can even wear couple's costumes again!"

The phrase couples costume made his butt clench so tight he could probably twist off a beer cap with his cheeks.

"I'll agree to go to the party...but not the couple's costume."

"But Yash," she whined, coming around the island to take his hands. "That's part of the fun…"

"No."

"Please?"

"No."

"I'll wear something slutty?"

"N—" He began, ready to tell her no again when his brain processed her offer. "Keep talking."

"I'll wear something slutty and sexy?"

"...Uh-huh...And what else?"

"...And you get to take it off of me?"

He almost said yes...but he was a greedy fucker. He was probably gonna take it off of her even if she hadn't offered that.

"Do I get to do more than that?"

"You mean other than wear a matching outfit?"

"I do."

"Well," she began, tilting her head to the side and pursing her lips in thought. "I'm assuming that sex is a given…"

"But you can say it anyway, and make it interesting," he shrugged. If he was going to get roped into this...because he was going to say yes, because he loved her...then he wanted to squeeze as much as he could out of this.

"Ok...If you do it, sex is on the table...and I'll also add you picking the place and position," she decided, causing his eyes to light up.

Place and position huh?

"Well...In that case Darling, you've got yourself a deal!"

Her childlike squeal and the way she giddily clapped her hands, bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet, made him feel like he made the right decision.

"Now let's talk costumes…"

He groaned, shaking his head and digging his fork into the eggs on his plate.

Then again...Maybe not…

He let her prattle on for a while, running different ideas past him...But he knew that it ultimately wouldn't matter. He was going to give in to whatever she wanted. If she wanted him to go as a hot dog, and she was going to be a bottle of mustard? That was what was going to happen. Wasn't sure how she could make it sexy...but sure. Her call. Prince and Princess? No fighting it. Batman and Catwoman…

It had piqued his interest, but she almost instantly changed her mind. The cowl would be uncomfortable for his ears.

So, she decided on a fireman and a dalmatian. He looked over at her phone when she held up a picture of the costume she had found for him and sighed.

"That's what you want?"

It didn't look too bad. And it looked like he could maybe get away with just wearing the pants. He was going to have to be sneaky about it though...He could do just a t-shirt and those pants.

"Please?" she beseeched, batting her long lashes at him. "It will be so cute! And you'll look so good!"

He tilted his head to the side, and she chewed the inside of his lip as she watched him roll her suggestion around in his head. She really liked the fireman outfit. She thought it would be fun! And he would look good in it too...She could already picture him slowly taking off the jacket to reveal his bare torso...the suspenders holding up his pants hanging limply at the sides as he slowly peeled himself out of—

"—What are you thinking about Kagome?"

She looked up at his face and saw him looking at her, a smirk stretching his lips as he limply held the phone, leaning down across the island.

"N-nothing," she blushed, swiping out to grab the phone from him, but he pulled it away from her at the last second.

"Nu-uh. I can smell it when you're lying…and I can smell it when you're—"

"—NOTHING!"

She insisted, grabbing the phone from him this time, and his grin turned predatory.

"Ain't nothing, or you wouldn't be smelling like that," he countered cheekily before his gaze began to darken. "Ya know...You don't have to keep that bottled up…"

"Inuyasha," she warned as he straightened, running his carefully filed and declawed fingers along the island countertop as he slowly came around to her side.

He was ignoring her, however.

"Kagome," he replied, closing in on her in just a few short strides. "Were you thinking about me in that fireman outfit?"

Sometimes she swore he could read her mind.

"N-no…"

"Liar," he purred, placing his hands onto the granite top on either side of her hips. He had effectively trapped her...and he was looking at her like prey.

It made her swallow because her mouth was suddenly dry. And made her lower abdomen heat. The intensity and desire in his gaze...the slight glint of fang in the morning light…

Fucking hell...She wanted to be his prey. Wanted to be captured and eaten and...eaten…

He inhaled deeply, his eyes rolling to the back of his head as he lowly moaned, "Fuck Kags…"

"W-what," she swallowed, and his smirk widened into a fangy grin before his lips crashed into hers.

AN:

I WILL ONLY DO THIS WALL OF TAGS ONCE! All future treats will be completely hidden under cuts so I don’t spam everyone’s timeline with in your face kink!

@clearwillow, @keichanz, @dangerouspompadour, @nartista, @kaze-ranna, @superpixie42, @sticky-llama-perfection, @pinkpigeonstudio, @mcornilliac, @itzatakahashi, @zelink-inukag, @juliatheanimelover7, @i-dream-of-soup, @smmahamazing, @the-lucky-ones311, @cyncyn981, @animemomma96, @ayari17, @underwater0phelia, @sailorbabydoll92, @l-taisho29, @animelove1313, @littlemissinukag, @gofoulpuppycollector, @umacaking, @chanin29, @willowandfog, @lebiishoujo, @theinuyashareader, @bluejay785, @irrationalandimpossible, @cstorm86, @ruddcatha, @desiree239, @littledaisy91, @liz8080, @cannibalsforbreakfast, @horriblehowl, @arcprz, @daisy-st-pati3nce, @senneth-pendra, @nsr0716, @eringobroke, @kagometaishostory, @thisshipisbananahs, @sunsetskys, @ajoy3fanfics, @sangoslays, @v0dka-cat, @cloudsz04, @lavendertwilight89, @yurawiththegoodhair, @saturnsilence, @lavaffair, @blairex, @fawn-eyed-girl, @fandomobsessions016, @neutronstarchild, @preciouslyours, @kalsies, @shnuggletea, @ladyphoenix0711, @littlestuffstohide

See you at 500 notes!!

#olr halloween game #lemon's reblog smut game #inuyasha fanfiction #inuyasha fanfic #inuyashafanfic #inuyasha #inukag #DAMNIT CARRA #Ode to Carra #Clearwillow #rancher #cattle rancher #western #romance #angst #one last ride #lemonlushff

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strawberrymilkgeorge · 3 years

Text

Part Six. Movies and Speedruns

warnings: swearing, many memes word count: 3.8k (not including pictures) (wow okay ash pop off!)

behind the screen (irl!dream x f!reader) series masterlist ultimate masterlist

A/N: LETS ALL JUST AGREE TO NOT LOOK AT THE DATES ON TWEETS AND STUFF BC SOME CHAPTERS ARE SO SCUFFED WITH DATES!!!! JUST KNOW THIS STORY STARTS MID NOVEMBER!!!!!!!! (in a world where covid doesn’t exist btw)

**********

Unknowingly and unintentionally, Y/n let out a big sigh as she poured a glass of water.

"What's wrong, Y/n?" Naomi asked gently, coming up behind her and hugging her tightly.

"Peter."

Naomi hummed, a sign that she was waiting for Y/n to lead the conversation so she could follow because if it were up to Naomi, she would immediately start trash-talking Peter and she wasn't sure if that was the vibe right now or not.

Y/n shook her head in disbelief as she jumped up to sit on the counter. "He got so mad when he found out I slept over at Karl's."

"I'm sorry, Y/n. I wish you would just cut him off completely."

"I don't know. I know I should but... part of me wonders if he could ever go back to how he was when I met him. I would probably date that guy again but not who he turned out to be."

Naomi looked horrified. "No. You sound like you're considering hearing him out. No, is that a joke? He's a bad person."

"I'm not," Y/n reassured. "I'm just thinking hypothetically. Probably because I miss having someone..."

"Y/n, you have a ton of thirsty people in your mentions. If you really want someone that bad, just scroll through, land on one and I bet they're a million times better than that sack of burned potatoes."

Y/n rolled her eyes but smiled lightly. "Most of those are jokes."

"Not all of them," she teased.

"I know you're going to tell me anyway so just say it. Who specifically do you think isn't joking?"

"Dream," Naomi sang.

"Okay, crazy." Y/n reached over, staying seated on the counter as she grabbed a bowl from a cabinet on her left. She then leaned all the way right, reaching as far as she could, but couldn't quite grab a cereal box from the top of the refrigerator.

Naomi rolled her eyes as she helped, handing Y/n the box. She even went the extra step to get Y/n a spoon and the milk because she was that nice. "I'm not joking. Neither is he. Karl and I have talked about it and we both agree."

Y/n paused at her friend's words, her hand hovering over the milk that Naomi held out for her. "You guys gossip about my love life?"

Naomi set the milk next to Y/n, tired of holding it out for her. "Of course? Like we don't do that about Karl? Or you and him about me?"

She couldn't argue there.

"Karl says there's a different vibe from Dream when you join calls and I believe it. I mean, I've seen it during streams myself so I can only imagine how much more obviously in love with you he is during private calls.

"That 'vibe' is Karl's delusional mind creating things. He's too scared to talk to cameragirl so he's projecting onto Dream and I."

"Yeah, okay," Naomi agreed sarcastically.

Y/n huffed. "Besides, he's in Florida. I'm in North Carolina, in case you weren't aware."

"So you're saying if you lived in the same state, you'd date him?"

"I didn't say that." She honestly had never thought of it. Sure she liked hanging out with Dream and her stomach got butterflies when he talked directly to her and he made her smile harder than anyone ever had and he—

And she didn't like him like that. She had only officially met the guy like a week and a half ago and she didn't know what he looked like. There was no way you could catch feelings for someone without seeing them.

Naomi's expression fell again. "Distance doesn't matter, anyway."

"I swear if you say something about George I will slap you," she threatened through a smile and Naomi gave her an innocent grin back.

"If you're lonely, get on Tinder, not Peter. Or get on Dream. I have no qualms with that."

"Peter isn't even an option, Naomi." Y/n sighed, ignoring the comment about Dream. "Also," she swallowed the last of her cereal and set the bowl down with a clank. "I'm gonna tell Peter I don't want to be friends anymore. Dream and George can be added to the list of Peter haters."

"You talked to them about it?"

She nodded. "You know how I have little gossip sessions with George? Well, Dream was there too this time."

"Well, of course Dream would hate Peter. We've established that he likes you."

"No, no, you and Karl delusionally hypothesized that."

Naomi tapped the counter methodically, a sign Y/n knew to signal that she was thinking hard. "Somehow, one day, I'll prove he does."

"Good luck."

"Wanna watch a movie?"

"Yes," Y/n perked up. "Go pick something, I'll get blankets."

She went to her room, grabbing her favorite cuddling blankets. She started leaving her room when she heard a ding on her open desktop, signaling that she had a call incoming from Discord. Cool timing.

"I'll be just a second, Naomi!" she called across the house before dropping the blankets on her bed and sliding her headset on, answering the call from Dream. "Hi, Dream!" She sat on her chair and tucked her knees to her chest.

"Hi," he greeted sweetly. "How are you doing today?"

"Much better than when we last talked. How are you?"

"Great now that I'm talking to you," he said smoothly. Y/n rolled her eyes but smiled anyway. "Are you busy?"

"Unfortunately, yes. My roommate and I are about to watch a movie."

"Ooh, what movie?"

"Not sure yet. Any suggestions?"

"Dark Knight. Unless you wanted me to say, like, Tangled or something."

"Yeah, girls' night is exclusively princess movies. Do you know nothing?"

"Apparently," he said with a laugh.

"What's up?"

"Oh, well, I was just gonna see if you wanted to be on call later with me, George, and Sapnap while I stream speedruns, but you're hanging out with your roommate so nevermind."

"Oh," Y/n deflated. "That sounds fun."

"I can push it back if you want to be part of it. If not, that's fine. I just thought it would be cool."

"No, no, no I really do want to, but I don't want you to have to push it back. When were you planning on starting?"

"In about an hour."

"I'll just join later if you're still playing. If that's okay that I come late."

"No. You have to be on time or not at all," he joked. "Of course that's fine," he assured. "And if I'm not playing anymore, you can still join... we usually talk for forever after we play games and it's fun. I would, er, we would love for you to hang out with us."

Y/n couldn't help the large smile on her face from staying even after they hung up and she walked back into the living room with her pile of blankets. She couldn't help it even when Naomi pointed it out and asked why she was so happy.

"Oh, uh, I've been invited to join Dream and them later for a stream."

"That vague answer doesn't warrant the shit-eating grin you have."

Y/n shrugged and cuddled more into her blankets. "What movie did you pick?"

*****

As the end credits rolled across the screen, Y/n yawned and looked over to Naomi in the dark. She was out like a light. Y/n stood up and made sure Naomi was covered in the blanket and she had a pillow. She crept back to her room and slid her headphones on, pulling up Discord where she saw the three boys' names still in a voice call.

She pulled up Twitch on her second monitor and looked for Dream's stream. It was already about an hour in. She clicked on it and her headphones echoed with the sound of George and Sapnap laughing like they said the funniest thing in the world.

"Shut up," Dream muttered. "Guys, what were the coords for the portal? Seriously, come on."

"Nobody tell him," George joked.

"George!"

"Where's Bugsyyyy?" Sapnap whined. "I want her to make fun of you with us."

"Half the stuff we're making fun of him for is about his big fat crush on her so..."

"George!" Dream yelled again. "No, it's not!"

Y/n smiled as she heard that, knowing it was a joke but laughing at the way Dream laughed at the accusation. She knew it wasn't serious or else they wouldn't talk about it on stream. George and Sapnap teased a lot, but certainly, they wouldn't out someone's crush in front of a hundred thousand viewers live.

"Oh!" Sapnap spoke out loud as George laughed loudly, both reading the text at the same time. "Speaking of..."

Dream waited for either of the two boys to elaborate but neither of them offered one. "What happened?"

"Bugsy texted us," George said off-handedly, typing a response to her. "She's coming in a second."

"Oh."

"What do you mean 'oh'?" Sapnap laughed.

"You guys have a groupchat?"

"Aw, jealous?" George asked.

Y/n joined at that moment, the first sentence coming from her Discord instead of Twitch being from Sapnap saying, "Would it make you more jealous to know our group name is Bugsy's Boys?"

"No, Sapnap, that's the one with Karl," George corrected. "The one with just you, me, and her is Bugsy's Boyfriends."

"WhAT?"

"I still don't approve of that, by the way," Y/n commented.

"Bugsy!!" Sapnap giggled happily. "You're finally here!"

"BUGSY!" George cheered.

"Hi guys!" Y/n laughed at the enthusiasm she was greeted with. "Hi, Dream!"

There was a few seconds of silence before, "Dream!!" George yelled right before the death screen appeared on the Twitch tab still opened on Y/n's right screen. "You idiot, what are you doing?! Why did you throw that run??"

She covered her mouth with the hoodie collar and laughed. "Off to a great start, bud."

"NO!" Dream yelled, knocking something, or somethings, off his desk. "Noooo! I didn't throw it, George, I FELL! Oh, that was going to be such a good run."

"What happened? How did you miss that huge ravine?" George asked while laughing. "It was literally right in the open. You didn't even try to use your water bucket."

"I-I was... I was distracted."

"By what? The completely open field with nothing blocking your vision?" Sapnap criticized with a laugh as well.

Y/n giggled to herself before letting her eyes trail to his chat, which was filled with the same accusations and guesses.

user5: BUGSY!

user2: DISTRACTED BY BUGSYS VOICE

user4: imagine saying hi so cutely that you make a man fall into a ravine

user1: are they dumb? obviously bugsy saying hi made his brain short-circut

user6: guys stop it wasn't bc she said hi. it was the g i g g l e

user3: DISTRACTED BY BUGSY!!!!

user8: HI BUGSY

user10: how to kill a man: hire bugsy to giggle and say hi directly to him

Y/n immediately blushed and covered her face again. She really had a habit of hiding even when no one could see her.

"Oh my gosh," Dream groaned, leaving the world and starting a new one. "Oh. My. Gosh. That's so annoying. I was doing so good."

"Oh," Sapnap laughed. "I understand now."

"What? What did I miss?" George asked.

"Just read chat," Sapnap explained. "They have the answer. Dream, your chat is so smart. Thanks for solving the mystery, chat!"

"No, they aren't ri— that isn't true!" Dream defended. "Chat, shut up."

"You sure?" Y/n asked teasingly, watching as his character paused when she started talking. Was she really making him this flustered just by talking? Surely not. He was just playing into the joke. He continued playing without saying anything, which made George and Sapnap laugh more.

The subject eventually changed and the atmosphere quickly became more relaxed and chill. Tonight was not a feral night like George had texted in all caps.

"Hey George," Y/n started, biting on her hoodie string with a smile because she knew Naomi would hear this when she watched the VOD the next day. "My roommate says hello."

"Oh my gosh," he muttered, making her laugh. "Let it go."

"Wow, I guess that's one way to treat your fans..."

"Fine," he sighed. "Tell her I say hello."

"Well, not if you don't mean it," Y/n teased.

"Yeah, George, you sound so unenthusiastic?" Sapnap asked.

"He's just flustered," Dream commented. "It's okay George, you can have feelings."

"Dream, you fell into a ravine because Bugsy said hi."

"Oh, come on! That's not—I just— I missed the jump! That's it!"

"I'm not flustered or unenthusiastic, I'm just tired, okay?" George explained, ignoring Dream, a yawn spilling out of him to prove it.

Y/n smiled. "Well, you could always let me give her your number if you really want..."

"No. If she had Discord you could give her that but not my phone number."

"Wait, really?" Y/n gasped. "Seriously?"

George laughed lightly. "Yeah, sure, why not?"

"YES! Okay, a huge win for the girls. Well, a huge loss for the fangirls but a huge win for the girls of this apartment."

"Oh my gosh," he muttered and she could practically see him rubbing his face in embarrassment.

"I'll send you her hashtag when she makes one so you know who to add back."

"She's going to make an account just to talk to George?" Sapnap giggled.

"Yes, dude!" Y/n defended. "She at least wants to be his friend, let her shoot her shot!"

Dream ended the steam soon after, not being able to focus enough to beat the end on any of his runs. He had streamed for just under two hours so he seemed to be getting tired as well. George went to bed soon after and after 20 minutes of talking with Sapnap and Dream, Sapnap mysteriously disappeared.

Y/n was about to leave as well, not wanting Dream to feel obligated to stay on the call with her when he spoke up.

"Does Naomi actually like George?"

"Yeah, she does."

"Then I want him to accept her love."

Y/n laughed. "How is he with long-distance relationships?"

"Well, he and I do just fine..." Dream joked. "Oh, not what you meant. I don't know, you guys are the ones that talk about each other's love lives apparently."

"You're still bitter about that?"

"Yes!"

"Suck it up," she laughed. "Naomi would do probably anything to date him so I doubt distance is a problem for her."

"George's sleep schedule is completely messed up, so the time difference wouldn't matter too much. And when he comes to America they can meet in person."

"Wait, he's coming to America?" Y/n gasped happily. "When?"

"There's no set date, but yeah eventually. He'll probably just come to Florida but we've all talked about having a huge meetup with a lot of our friends."

"Oh... cool..."

"Bug? You know you'd be invited to that, right?"

"Oh, really?" she smiled.

"Of course. You're part of the group now."

"Sick," she muttered to herself, but he heard.

"Bug, you're one of my favorite people, do you know that?"

She blushed. "Really?"

"Really."

"You barely know me, Dream."

"Yeah, well, I know enough to know that I'm sorta attached to you."

"Attached to me? In what way?"

He suddenly sounded nervous as if his brain caught up with what his mouth was saying. "I don't know, nevermind."

"No, Dream, what do you mean?" her voice was soft and understanding and it made him feel safe.

"I just... I don't know. I care about you a lot. We met only, what, like a week or two ago, and I already worry about you a lot. Playing games doesn't feel the same anymore unless you're playing with us."

"To be fair, we have been tweeting at each other for much longer than a week or two."

"Yeah, that's true. But it's not the same as actually talking to you."

She smiled shyly. "I care about you a lot too, Clay." His name sounded strange as if it suddenly made everything much more serious. "Sorry, that just kinda slipped. I won't call you Clay if you don't want me to—"

"No, it's okay, it, uh, I like hearing you... say it. But, uh, you can call me whatever you want."

She smiled widely at the nervousness in his voice and the hard pounding of her heart. "I've heard from multiple people that you never stop talking about me."

He laughed timidly. "Maybe. Do you talk about me?"

"Ask Karl," she giggled. "My guess is yes." Her stomach felt tingly and her hands shook lightly. Why did she feel like this all of a sudden? It was late, she reasoned. That, or it was because Naomi had planted the seed of curiosity in her mind. Did Dream like her? No... right?

"I'm sorry if my chat was making you uncomfortable at the beginning when I died..."

"Don't worry, I wasn't uncomfortable."

"It was true, by the way," he paused, "what they were saying. Just... in case you were wondering."

Y/n couldn't wipe the smile off her face, which was growing painful at this point. "What, my voice makes your brain short-circut? That was one comment I saw."

Dream laughed. "More like your entire presence, but... yeah I guess so."

How is someone supposed to respond to something like that? The sweetness in his voice almost made her sick but in a good way.

And just like when he named her Minecraft flower something sweet knowing that no one would see it, why was he still playing up the joke when no one was around?

Not knowing what to say, she decided to let him in on a little secret. "If it matters, you're one of my favorite people too."

"It does."

There was a deathly moment of tense silence as if both of them were screaming to say something but neither did.

"Basically, if we do have a meet-up, I'll sue you if you don't come."

Y/n laughed. "My pockets are empty, sir, so... good luck."

He laughed and it was music to her ears.

"Are you not nervous to show everyone your face? Like, if or when we do all get together."

"Not really. Especially not if it's just to our friends. Are you?"

"Yeah," she admitted.

"Why?"

She sighed. "I'm sure people have me painted in a specific way in their heads and I've seen fanart of me that is way different and way more attractive than I am. I just don't want to let anyone down by not living up to their expectations."

"Bug," Dream said softly, "you couldn't let anyone down."

"You don't know that."

"You can't disappoint real friends or real fans with the way you look."

"To be clear, Dream," she laughed nervously, afraid she would sound conceited, "I don't think I'm ugly. I like the way I look. I'm happy with me. But that doesn't mean I can't still let people down."

"Different than expected doesn't mean disappointing."

His words smacked her in the gut. He was right. Reality and imagination are very different. Neither has to be better or worse than the other. She could look the complete opposite of how someone expects but that doesn't mean they will be either disappointed OR pleased. And why does it matter anyway? If she likes how she looks, who cares what other people think?

"It's also scary to think of getting recognized in public," she admitted. "Being recognized from the start is one thing because it starts off slowly with only a few people knowing your face but if the first time people see your face is when you have millions of fans, the recognition would be overwhelming."

"That's true. I don't think I would mind that much, though."

"Of course not, you're you."

"What does that mean?"

"You like the spotlight."

"I guess. Not all the time."

"Well, what about you?" she asked. "Are you afraid of people knowing what you look like?"

"No. I want to do a face reveal soon but I don't know how I would do it. I want to do it at some kind of event or something but I don't know."

"I need to schedule around when you do it because you'll break the internet. Give us content creators a warning so we can prepare to not get viewers for a week."

Dream laughed. "Oh come on."

"Twitter would just be full of the same picture of you in every single tweet."

"It won't be that big of a deal."

"Something tells me your millions and millions of subs say otherwise."

"Whatever," he said. "As if you wouldn't break the internet too."

"Maybe for a day or two. But you'd break everything for weeks."

"Sure." There was a long pause before Dream softly said, "Karl's lucky."

"How so?"

He didn't speak for a moment, almost like he wasn't prepared for that question because he didn't mean to be heard. "I wish I could know you the way he does."

"You could. He and I knew each other in person first so it's different. You and I could get there eventually."

"You think so?"

"I know so. I trust you a scary amount for someone I met weeks ago."

"I didn't mean to sound like I'm trying to pressure you into showing me your face or telling me your name. I didn't mean like he gets to know what you look like and I don't. I meant, like, I wish we could hang out in person because I prefer that over talking in Discord."

"I get it, Clay. I feel the same way," Y/n said softly. There were a few moments of silence before she spoke again.

"Oh, gosh, it's already four."

Y/n's head snapped to look at her clock, which read 3:57am. "Already?" she whispered. "Dang."

As if acknowledging the time changed the atmosphere, it suddenly felt like 4am. Her back ached from her shifting in her chair so much over the last few hours, never being able to find a good position. The house was eerily quiet and all she heard was the low hum of the heater. The house felt stale, not used to its occupants being so alert and awake at that hour.

"I should probably go to bed..."

"Yeah, me too," Dream agreed. His voice sounded tired. "Thanks for joining us, it was really fun with you."

"Thanks for inviting me. Sorry I made you die. Hopefully you'll still let me back again."

"You're always invited to barge into my streams. Actually."

Y/n giggled again and mentally slapped herself for sounding like a little kid. "Well, you too. You can interrupt my streams anytime."

"I'll hold you to that."

"Goodnight, Clay."

"Goodnight, Bug."

**********

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taglist: OPEN (at the time) @hydrate-tion @loraleiix @tinaswagbd @charsdummb @smileyyuta @1ghoste1 @cerberus-hellhound @gaysludge @queestionmark @carnations-red @letsloveimagines @the-fictionwriters-hairdo @boiled-onionrings @a-cryptic @fee-btheweeb @letsloveimagines @erwinss @just-a-stan @axths @kayleigh2703 @furiouspockettoad @sometimeseverythingsucks @powerpuffyn @itshaileyn @millavalntyne @automaticcomputerpaper @nikkineeky @fivedicksinatrenchcoat @sprucekot @jabby16 @mae-musicbitch @hungoverhellhound @dreamyteam @kuroo-icedtea @stuffforreferences @menacingaesthetic @sapphic-soot @fangeekkk @haseulreturns @queenwastaken @peteysgf @losingvienna @bi-narystars @zero-nightshade

#rpf #real person fic #dream x reader #dreamwastaken x reader #dream x y/n #dreamwastaken x y/n #mcty x reader #mcyt x y/n #clay x reader #smau #dream smau #dreamwastaken smau #social media fic #social media au

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laketaj24 · 3 years

Text

It’s a No For Me

A/N: Pure fluff!!! I tried to add angst and smut, lmao, and failed. This is the same couple from Serotonin but it's a standalone. Anyway, thank you for the request, my love!!! Let me know what you think!! Taglist is here! Reqs are open, but I’m slow. -thanks, mgmt.

Warnings: Language

Pairing: Colson Baker x Reader

Colson Baker Masterlist

The looks he kept giving you were irresistible; he bit his bottom lip while looking you up and down. Colson’s hands went through your braids, playfully pulling before you moved away. Colson groaned, sitting up in bed, “Why are you leaving so early?”

“Doctor’s appointment.” You chuckled as you drug your feet over to the dresser. You looked yourself over in the mirror. “I have one week of BC left, and you are not a champion of pulling out.”

“Excuse me; I’m the Undisputed Pullout Champ.” Colson’s face lit up. “You must be confused.”

“Keep believing that.” You rolled your eyes.

“I don’t see what would be wrong with some kids running around here?” Colson lit the end of his cigarette and inhaled.

“There are grown man kids running around here. That’s enough.”

“The thought of you running around here with my kid inside of you is sexy as hell. Just come back to bed.”

“No.” You said. “I will when they refill this birth control. Thanks, pullout king.”

“You don’t want my kids?”

“No.”

“No?” He asked, confused.

“No, I’m in my prime; I don’t want to wobble around while you party your ass off.”

“I would settle down for you.”

“Right. See you later there, champ.” You peck his cheek, and he grabs you playfully, pulling you down on the bed. “I’m going to be late.”

“I want that no to be a yes; change it for me?”

“It’s a solid no for me.”

“Wrong answer,” Colson put his cigarette on the nightstand, not caring if the house burned down or not. “Come on... one baby.”

“We just got back to being a normal couple; I still have my apartment just in case I decide I hate you.”

“You can’t hate me.” He admitted what you knew already.

“I can.” You say correcting him. “I have hated you. You’re not as sweet and funny as you think.”

“That’s bullshit; I’m sweet as hell.”

“I’m going to be late, and I don’t have time to argue with you today.”

“So the thought never crossed your mind, not even once?”

“I was late last once, and it crossed my mind, remember you bought twenty-eight tests.” that day was full of anxiety, and you were not there for it.

“Yeah, I still got the remaining twenty-seven in the closet.” Colson rolled his eyes. “I want kids. Kinda upset you don’t want one with me.”

“Oh wow, you’re pouting.”

“I don’t fucking pout.” He said, pouting. “Go to the appointment. Bye.”

“You’re a kid asking for a kid.”

“Y/N, you’re gonna be late, and you’re killing my morning vibe. Go.”

“If I leave, are you going to talk to me when I get back?”

“Yeah, bye.” he was once again short with you turning on his side with his cell phone in hand. “Get out. Go get medicated.”

“Rude, bye Colson.”

The appointment was quick; she wrote you another prescription, and you were back at his place with food, a better attitude, and a surprise for him. “Col! Col!”

No answer but all of the random cars he owned were here parked in the driveway. “Babe! I come bearing food and cake!” The puppy stirred in your arms, anxious to get down and explore. If he wanted a new responsibility, he had one. The Grey Dotson had floppy ears with a long-haired coat. Not the dog he would have picked, but you liked him.

The shower water running upstairs answered your question as to why he was ignoring you. “Colson!”

“What! You’re gonna make me fall in here calling my name like that!” The shower water stopped, and he rounded the corner entering the room. “What the fuck is that?”

“This is Champ.”

“It’s a no for me.” He shook his head in disbelief. “I hate you.” Colson laughed. “This is not a baby, and how in the hell are you gonna name him Champ without my vote.”

“I named him after you.”

“You’re funny. Fucking Champ.” Colson smiled, leaning in the doorjamb with the white towel hanging from his hips. “Is this a test?”

“You have a tour, I have a job, and I don’t want a child right now... but that doesn’t mean I don’t want one period. So we have Champ.” You held him up.

“That’s not a compromise. I wanna put a baby inside of you, not pick up shit.”

“You can practice with the baby-making.” You grinned. “I like practicing with you.”

“Well- I get to practice, you pick up the shit. Better yet, give that to your nieces and nephews, and we can visit on weekends. Be a great aunt and uncle.”

“I just bought Champ,” you groaned.

“And now you’re gonna just give him as a gift.”

He was not impressed.

“You’re still mad.”

“I’m not happy; I say I want a baby, and you bring me a furball.”

The puppy squirmed down and left the room. “Not a good compromise?”

“A good compromise would have been head and a maybe later.”

“I can still do that.”

“Oh, for real. Bet, Lock the dog out.”

“You’re a trip, come on.” You tapped your legs, and Champ ran over to you. “He’s our responsibility now. You can get head later. Get dressed.”

Colson leans over you. “Six months, and we start trying?”

“One year.”

“Nine months.” He rebuts.

“See you downstairs, daddy.” You say, moving away from him.

“Don’t call me that shit; the dog will go in the hallway.” He winked. “I mean it.”

Taglist: @taytayize123 @ctrlszn @supernaturalvikingwhore @jae-writes-fanfiction @bigsisbria @placeoffreedom @kyla-queen @missdforever @gottatoxicattitude @bang-kim-bap @msreshel @blowmymbackout @titty-teetee @strawberry-skyes @mauvecherie @savageiz @luci-her @littlelovebug98 @babyboy-cody @hellshedevil @daddyavesxx @crystalbaby12 @jeonsblackgf @fangirl199812 @thatonegrl-1 @isyoongi @honestsycrets @lifeisabitchandsoareyou @cartoonlover101 @therandomthoughtsofmsparker @bowwowzer37 @fandomfic-galore @mayaslifeinabox @hangovercurse @szaplsdrop @heavenly1927 @mvrylee @canyoubuymetoast @littlelovebug98 @nightgirl250 @psychiccreationtaco @stupendoushairdocloudmuffin @aliendemigods @triplexdoublex @placeoffreedom @amorestevens @brightblaqkkheaven @pettyvxbes @pacmacs-macs @lostaurorax @toni9

#machine gun kelly #machine gun kelly x reader #machine gun kelly x black reader #mgk x reader #colson baker #colson baker x reader #machine gun kelly fanfiction #colson baker x black reader #laketa j writes

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autisticandroids · 3 years

Note

Okay so this was a while back but im preety sure you had mentioned an au of yours where dean is a serial killer and cas successfully stalks him but i don't think you talked about it more than that and i just really want to hear a bit more bc that idea sounds so tastefully fucked up

okay so. weeks later i finally end up answering this ask. it inspired this post btw. anyway spn is a show that's like. all about justifications, as i said in the post inspired by this ask. it's about having no choice and doing what you have to do. and like there is the phantasy embedded in it, a phantasy that is both indulged and punished. but most importantly it's justified. the monsters are super strong to show how brave our heroes are for fighting them, the main characters let out great wails of grief every time their lady loves are violently ripped from them (even though now they are free to do whatever they want), the narrative twists to show our heroes as correct whatever they do. the fantasy (of being allowed to enact violence, of being free from feminine "control," of being right) comes first. the material construction of the universe of supernatural comes afterward. whatever the fantasy is, the universe of supernatural will provide material conditions to justify its acting-out.

and what this means is that our protagonists, dean in particular, are constantly doing just horrific things, which in any other circumstance would be unconscionable. but the universe of supernatural provides justification for these acts. the point of my serial killer au which i think about so so so much is to ask the question: what if these justifications melted out from under their feet? what if dean was left holding nothing but a lie and the weight of everything he's done?

therefore, the premise of my au is such (under the cut because this baby is long):

john and mary winchester, in the mid seventies, joined a doomsday cult known as the men of letters. the men of letters were rather unusual for a doomsday cult, in that they believed that the apocalypse could be prevented by human behavior. this started as correct living, correct worship, yadda yadda, the kind of behavior and thought control that cults are known for, but with the justification of: if you don't do this, the world will end. eventually, this escalated to human sacrifice. the men of letters managed to untraceably kill two homeless people in the late seventies. but they eventually fell apart. however, a month after john and mary left the men of letters (mostly john's choice, mary still believed), mary died in a house fire. john took it as a sign from god that actually, the men of letters were right, and the world would end unless john himself did something about it. so he took some of the (intensely numerological) theology of the men of letters. and he worked out his own formula. and he applied it to the yellow pages. and started ritualistically killed people to prevent the apocalypse, with his two sons in the back of the car.

now, obviously, this is some kind of grief induced temporary madness on john's part, shaped by the mental abuse he suffered in the men of letters. but the thing is, once you've killed a couple of people to prevent the apocalypse. well. there's this thing called the sunk costs fallacy. john wasn't gonna question his own beliefs after that.

and he raised his boys to believe it, too, or at least he raised dean to. they didn't tell sam what they did until he was twelve, and sam didn't buy it, tried to call the cops on them several times but in the end, they always prevented him. eventually sam ran off to stanford, where he now lives under a cloud of guilt that he's too loyal to his family to rat them out.

john died a few years back of a heart attack, but dean is convinced it's because he messed up a ritual two weeks before it happened, so it pushed him further into this belief system.

dean's killings (and john's before him) are ritualistic and distinctive, obviously the same killer each time. but they happen anywhere in the united states, seemingly at random, there are inconsistent amounts of time between each one (sometimes as short as days, sometimes as long as years), and there is no particular victim profile. obviously, since our killers are following an arcane mathematical formula to make their choices for them, but the police don't know that.

castiel novak is an unemployed shut-in with a small inheritance which he's living off of, a cryptography degree, and an obsession with all things morbid. he spends most of his time on the reddit true crime forums, playing amateur sleuth. by complete chance, he happens to recognize one of the symbols frequently used in corpse displays by the so-called sioux falls satanic slaughterer (so named because the first time three of his victims were in the same part of the country, it so happened that they were all in sioux falls, south dakota. this was in the late eighties.) as being mostly only used by a little known cult group called the men of letters, which dissolved in the mid eighties.

he only notices this because, as a teen, he had a special interest in cults and fringe religious groups. the men of letters weren't a particularly notable or well known phenomenon; they were small, and a lot like every other cult that formed during the seventies cult boom. (no outsider ever heard about the human sacrifice; there were rumors, of course, but they were garbled, sensationalized, and mixed up with satanic panic fodder.)

(the men of letters' two sacrifices were nothing particularly romantic or fantastical. they first lured panhandler josie sands back to their compound with promises of food and a warm bed when she admitted she couldn't get a bed at a shelter, and was thinking of getting caught shoplifting just so she could be under a roof in the county jail. the men of letters' leader, a man who took on the name alistair, forced his inner circle to dress in the ceremonial black robes he had given them when he initiated them into his nearest and dearest, and which his wife had sewn out of old bed sheets and dyed black with home made oak gall dye. these robes still left black smudges on the wearer's skin occasionally if they sweated too much. josie was laid, bound, on the altar, a slapdash thing constructed over the course of two days from scrap plywood and a couple of milk crates. a rich red tablecloth purchased at macy's for $3.99 hid its ugliness and gave it grandeur. alistair attempted to kill the struggling miss sands by bringing a sharpened kitchen knife down on her bosom and piercing her heart, but, having never killed a human or even slaughtered an animal before, was unaware of the problem presented by the human ribcage. after rather ineffectually poking at the area beneath sands' bosom with his knife while she shrieked in pain and terror for about ninety seconds, alistair tried a different tack, and slit her throat, which worked just fine, and she bled out quite nicely. the second and final victim of the men of letters was a local vagrant named larry ganem, an older gentleman who walked with a limp. he was lured back to the compound in approximately the same manner as sands, but instead of being bound, he was fed stew laced with sleeping pills. even if alistair hadn't slit his throat, he wouldn't have woken up. it's actually arguable whether he was still alive at time of sacrifice; mary winchester (eight months into her first pregnancy), who, as a member of the inner circle, was in attendance, actually tried to take ganem's pulse as he lay on the altar (now covered by a different tablecloth; the red one had turned stiff with sands' blood and been subsequently burned) and found nothing, so it is entirely possibly only sands' death can be directly laid at alistair's feet, and ganem's is the fault of mrs. ellen harvelle, who prepared the laced stew. regardless, these two deaths are lessons in the nature of human evil: it is very rarely skilled, suave, or smooth. it's often slapdash, half-hearted, and just plain incompetent. but that makes it no less grisly. alistair may have begun to drink his own kool-aid, as it were, and escalated this far out of genuine belief that the apocalypse was coming and it was up to him to stop it, but it is far more likely that he sensed the imminent collapse of his little empire, and wanted to bind his subjects to him through the horrors of shared guilt, considering two lives a small price to pay for the continued loyalty of his inner circle. and the tactic worked: the men of letters didn't start to collapse in earnest until almost four years later. perhaps if alistair had continued the killings, the men of letters could have lasted for far longer, maybe even up until the present day. but it seems that alistair, a psychiatrist by training and unused to violence, simply didn't have the stomach for it. unlike, say, john winchester, who before his time with the men of letters had done a two year tour in vietnam, during which he had killed three living, thinking human beings with the american government's go-ahead.)

anyway. castiel is the first person, ever, to make the connection between the men of letters and the sioux falls satanic slaughterer. and once that connection is made, castiel begins to research the men of letters far more in-depth. and he notices something: the theology of the men of letters was intensely numerological, filled with patterns, significant numbers, and even spiritual equations.

castiel thinks of the seemingly random selection of the slaughterer's victims, and has an epiphany.

he cracks all his fingers, and gets coding.

six months. it takes castiel six months to discover an equation that could fit the slaughterer's pattern. it's complex, but also clearly based on several of the men of letters' holy numbers, and accounts for every single one of the killings. it also suggests that there should have been two or three more deaths scattered across the years, but more than likely those did happen, it's just that they weren't reported as part of the slaughterer's portfolio.

but much more importantly, castiel's model can also make predictions. there will be two killings, fifteen days apart, in a city seven hours' drive away, six weeks from now.

so castiel waits. and he books a hotel room. and two months later, he's waiting outside 217 oak street when a shadowy figure climbs up a tree and lets itself into the upstairs window.

dean winchester is feeling particularly all alone in the world when he breaks into maisey banks' home (217 oak street). his father has been dead for half a decade, and he hasn't spoken to his baby brother for twice that. it's not like this whole grizzly saving the world business makes him a lot of friends. so once he's done killing maisey (which is easy, she was ninety three and dying of cancer anyway. she doesn't even wake up when he slits her throat) and arranging her corpse in the appropriate manner, with prayers and sigils, he turns around. and sees a man standing behind him.

smiling slightly.

as he watches dean gut this old woman.

dean freezes.

the man takes a step forward.

"you're very attractive for a serial killer who's been operating since the eighties."

dean is silent.

"family business, is it?"

silence continues.

"i'm not here to report you to police. i'm just here to see if my algorithm worked right."

and dean finally breaks his silence: "what the hell is wrong with you?"

what's fun here is that dean knows (or rather "knows") that he isn't a serial killer. so he finds what cas is doing, this amoral serial killer stormchasing, morally repugnant. because cas has no way of knowing he isn't a regular serial killer.

there's also the fact that that cas proceeds to flirt with him. aggressively. and follows him back to his motel.

but the thing is that dean is all alone in the world. and as cas continues trailing him around, he starts getting, well, flattered. and feeling a little bit less alone.

it doesn't take very long before they fall into bed. even if cas is an amoral stalker with a fetish for what dean considers a distasteful yet necessary vocation.

so. they fall into bed. they fall in love. they make a little life together, in dean's big sexy car. dean tries to explain to cas that he's saving the world. that these people's lives are a necessary price to pay. and cas seems to listen.

of course, castiel doesn't believe a word of it. but he's found that he likes dean. really likes him. and he realizes that the collapse of dean's belief system would destroy him.

so he sets about becoming as complicit in it as possible.

even to the extent where, when dean is hit by a car and ends up into the hospital a day before one killing is meant to take place, castiel agrees to take on the job. (he doesn't actually kill anyone, obviously. but he does use his extensive skill with computers to create three fake newspaper articles which make it look like he has.)

but five years later, something goes wrong. really, really wrong. dean miscalculates the formula. and by the time he checks his work, the actual date of the next kill, as demanded by the formula, has passed. in fact, so have three others. and the world didn't end.

dean collapses. he hyperventilates. all those people. all those people. for no reason. all those people. all those people. all those people. all those people. all those people. all those people. all those people. all those people. all those people. all those people. all those people. all those people. all those people. all those people. all those people. all those people. all those people. all those people. all those people. all those people. all those people. all those people.

cas seems totally unfazed. dean stares at him in shock. but cas just takes dean in his arms, and whispers in his ear: "oh, dean, i never believed in the equation. i love you no matter what you've done."

and dean buries his face in cas' chest.

#spn #asks #anonymous #abuse tw #violence tw

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