#but like i feel they could be rational and mature enough to talk it out and to figure stuff out
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Call Me (Rafe Cameron x Reader) I
SYNOPSIS: call someone else if you want that.
WARNINGS: mature content; secret relationship, verbal abuse, jealousy, general violence, manipulative behavior, explicit language, substance abuse & addiction, obsession, depiction of explicit sexual acts
masterlist
rafe always had a meanness to him, one that you’d never been oblivious to, though never really on the receiving end of it at first. the two of you would have petty banter, little arguments that would eventually reveal the underlying tension between you, but it was nothing more than that.
with others, however, you’d seen him be cruel–beyond cruel. your middle sister, just a couple years your junior, was friends with kiara carrera and those other boys she hangs out with by association. you’d heard the stories of his behavior, and while it may make you a terrible person, you really didn’t care. his business with them wasn’t yours, and you weren’t close enough to rafe to confront him about it. she’s never said he’s done anything to her directly, so what could you really do about it? it’s not like she knew you two even talked in the first place, so it was out of your hands.
maybe it was because of his strained relationship with his father, or the lack of relationship with his mother. it could be just how he is naturally; you wouldn’t be surprised.
however, you began to become a victim of his malice yourself at some point last year. you two weren’t particularly nice to each other, but there was something different this time. it used to be playful, but this time it was purposeful; at least it was on his end.
sure, rafe isn’t the most rational person in the world, but the amount of anger and frustration he was taking out on the girl he was secretly fucking was completely out of proportion.
you asked him more times than i can remember; begging him to tell you what was wrong. even when you should have been mad at him for treating you like some bitch off the street, you simply couldn’t ignore the feeling of something being wrong with him. maybe you caught feelings for him and that’s why you cared so much, even when you shouldn’t have.
it was around the time you sister started staying out later, riding around town with her friends and stirring up trouble like she had no home-training. you were positive rafe had something to do with it, but never said anything about it. it wasn’t like he was answering your calls at the time anyway.
eventually, you just stopped talking. maybe it was inevitable, a natural occurrence from lack of mutual communication.
so when you saw him just a few dozen yards away for the first time in months, you weren’t sure how to feel.
you watch as he takes each drink to the head, shot after shot from across the room. his blonde hair that would have once been blocking his vision was now cropped short and barely visible from where you stood. the people around him encouraged the behavior, cheering him on every time he slammed the bottom of a shot glass back on the table.
he looked deceptively sober, but his body language was all the evidence you needed to know he had more than a bump of the cocaine some girl brought to the party. his alcohol tolerance was way stronger than everyone around him, the sloppiness of his friends completely opposite of his nonchalant demeanor.
that was one of many differences between the two of you. he liked to drink, get high, and do things that were far past the limits of legality that only someone with money and influence like him could get away with. you hated the feeling of losing control, of not being completely aware of what was happening around you, and would even never think of doing a fraction of the things he does.
yet, for some reason that you could never figure out, he piqued your interest.
maybe it was because he was “bad,” and you were “good.” maybe it was his roughness that attracted you, or the way he did whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted. rafe’s instability contrasted everything about you; it gave you a rush that you’ve never felt with anyone else.
“what are you looking at?”
you’re pulled out of the one-sided staring contest, the sound of your friend’s voice capturing your attention over the loud music.
“what?” you said. you leaned down towards the shorter blond, ear in better reach of her voice.
“what are you looking at?” she repeats louder this time. her breath smells of alcohol, the pink whitney sitting in the bottom of her cup the clear cause of her slight swaying.
your eyes flicker back to the boy across the room for a moment, the sight of him leaning down to snort a white substance from the table beneath him making you cringe to yourself. your friend’s eyes follow yours, the green irises further revealed by the widening of her eyes.
“rafe cameron?” she says quite loudly, her voice carrying around the area as other people nearby turn to look at her in annoyance. “why the hell are you staring at rafe cameron?”
“say it louder, why don’t you? i don’t think russia could hear you.” your eyes tear away from him and return them to your scantily clad friend. “jesus christ, misty. you are so drunk.”
“you should try it some time.” she giggles, arm raising her cup in a cheer. you rolled your eyes at her and raised your own drink to your lips, the taste of cool water refreshing on your tongue.
your experience with alcohol is slim by choice. the idea of not being in total control of yourself makes you more than uncomfortable, and the taste of the beverage did not appeal to you. you knew how to have a good time without the aid of alcohol or drugs.
“i’ll pass…” you say with a breathy chuckle. you pulled out your phone to check the time, the dark of the night beginning to drag on into the earliest hours of the morning. you were sure if you stayed out any longer your parents would send a search group.
the party hadn’t been much fun to me anyways, the celebration of your friend’s recent graduation not doing much to keep me entertained.
your gaze returns to the spot where rafe stood only to be met with nothing, the boy nowhere to be found in your brief sweep of the area. you look around the party from where you stood, head swiveling to find the blonde amongst the gaggle of kooks in the room. he has seemingly vanished into thin air despite being the most noticeable person in the place.
“hey, um…” you trailed off, head turning back to face a drunk misty. “i need to get home. are you ready to go?”
the girl shakes her head, finger pointing behind her to the familiar figure of her boyfriend. he was watching her closely, clearly on edge as his inebriated girlfriend consumed enough liquor to take down a grown man.
“jordan is taking me home with him.” she giggles again, eyebrows wiggling suggestively. you were sure he’d have her tucked into bed within the next two hours, whatever she thought was gonna happen would not be happening if he had anything to say about it.
“okay, girl. i’ll see you soon.” you pulled her into an embrace, the top of her head reaching the bottom of your chin as you lean down to hug her. you weren't sure how she wasn’t falling over yet–there wasn't much body for the alcohol she had befriended for the night to go through. “and lay off the liquor.” your voice was stern as you pulled away.
she throws the rest of the liquid down her throat in response, the bottom of the red solo cup left empty as crushed it beneath her fingers. you couldn’t help but to smile at her before turning away, her boyfriend now fast approaching before she got a chance to find the liquor table again.
stepping out of the party, you pull your phone from the pocket of your skirt to order a car home. it had completely slipped your mind that you rode here with misty and her boyfriend, instantly reminded of the fact that you didn’t own a car nor a license as you approached the front yard. the prices for cars at this time a night were more than you got paid per hour.
your head fell back in frustration, the warm summer breeze blowing against your bare legs as you ground out into the night sky.
“y/n?”
the sound of your name sends a shiver down your back. you stopped dead in your tracks, as if the cool metal of a gun was being held to the back of your skull.
your head turns in the direction of the familiar voice, eyes tearing away from the distant constellations in the night sky. lafe’s leaning against the side of his truck, a mixture of keys dangling around his finger.
“rafe.” you respond to him with his own name. “long time, no see.”
your feet carried you towards the blonde resting against the dark colored vehicle behind, eyes locked on the blue of his own.
you could feel the sharpness of your teeth tearing into your bottom lip, the warm, bubbly feeling you got whenever the two of you were in the same room making a return. rafe’s eyes fell to the way you were ravaging the plump flesh, almost entranced by the sight.
“how’ve you been?” the taller man pulls his gaze away and returns it to your eyes as he inquires. “heard you graduated, congrats by the way.”
“yeah, thanks.” you reply chipperly. “um…i’ve been alright. not a lot going on, to be honest. you?”
“same, same… he trails off awkwardly, the sounds of the late night filling the air between us. “hey, um, do you–do you need a ride, or anything?”
you shook your head immediately and raised your hand to show him the rideshare app on the screen.
“no, i’m good. i don’t wanna take you out of your way.” you smile politely at him as you speak. “thanks, though.”
rafe shakes his head and opens the passenger’s side door he was previously leaning on just seconds before.
“it’s no big deal, seriously. you don’t live that far from me, i’m heading in that direction anyway.”
you stare at him wordlessly for a moment, eyes tearing away from him and flickering around the street around you. no one had exited the party after you did, at least not that you had seen. the ground was shaking beneath the two of you as the bass of the music continued strongly through the night.
you hesitantly take a step towards the car door being held open by the tall blonde, not quite sure if it’s smart for you to be around him right now. you lift yourself into the tall truck and plop down into the seat before your eyes set on rafe once again.
the fist-stized muscle protected by your ribs feels as if it’s trying to tear your chest in half to escape just from the sight of rafe, unsure of how to behave around him anymore.
shutting the door after seeing you settled inside, he makes his way over to the driver’s side. watching as he buckles himself in and starts the car, the roaring of the engine sent a vibration through the entirety of your being.
“do you think you should be driving right now?” you spoke up after a minute of silence. his head turns fully to meet your eyes, his pupils large and eyes dark under the minimal lighting of the moon above.
his eyebrows raise at the inquiry before just barely furrowing them in confusion.
“you think i can’t handle my liquor?” he blinks at you in the darkness of the car, eyelids hiding and revealing the blown out pupils that had taken over the ocean blue of his irises. “you never had a problem with it before.”
your mouth opened briefly before snapping back shut, the words that left his own rendering you responseless.
you and rafe had a long history together, though, if you were to ask anyone else that, they’d be taken by surprise. there had been plenty of times where you’ve let him drive around while he was far from sober, but it had been months since then. it had been months since you two had spoken, and it wasn’t really something you felt comfortable with anymore.
“okay, well it’s been a while and you’ve had a lot to drink tonight.” you eventually found your voice again, pointing out how long it’s been since you’d been in a situation like this one.
rafe didn’t argue, instead choosing to shrug his shoulders wordlessly. he put the car into reverse and backed out of the driveway smoothly, the truck pulling off into the dimly lit street.
you sat in silence for the entire ride, the awkwardness in the air more on your end than his. the trees blew by on the side of the road, the leaves appearing to be nothing but dark blurs as you observed them from the window. rafe was not sparse with the gas, each sharp, fast turn leaving you more anxious than the last.
you could feel rafe glance towards me every so often, steely eyes burning into the side of your face and leaving behind a warmth in your cheeks that couldn’t be shaken.
it was when he pulled in front of your dark house that he finally broke the silence, leaving a question that you weren’t quite sure how to answer hovering in the cool air of the truck.
“hey, y/n?”
“yeah?” you didn’t turn to face him, choosing instead to watch the windows of your house for any signs of life.
he sat wordlessly for a few seconds and you could feel his eyes on you once again, much more intensely than the first few times on the road. you were afraid to look back at him, fully aware that you would become lost in them like you did when you first met him.
“why’d you stop calling?” he asked.
you blinked at the reflection in the window, his question echoing in your head. turning to face him, his eyes locked onto yours. they refused to let go, gaze leaving you trapped under the spell that it casts upon you.
gulping soundlessly, you wet your mouth with the saliva collecting underneath your tongue as you prepared an answer. it felt as if the words had been stolen from your throat the moment you exchanged looks.
“why’d you stop answering?” you said after finding your voice.
the feelings repressed began to bubble to the surface the longer you two sat in the enclosed space. you felt breathless, confused, and angry. not only at him, but at yourself as well.
you let yourself become attached when you shouldn’t have, and because of that you had to suffer repercussions of unrequited feelings. you were angry because he left you hanging for weeks, but you let him. he treated you like shit, but you let him. you were never supposed to catch feelings, but you let yourself.
that’s why you’re angry.
even with all of that, your heart never failed to beat out of your chest when he was near you. rafe didn’t even need to put his hands on you to leave you breathless. you should hate him, especially with how he treated you, treated your sister and her friends–but you don’t. you can’t.
that’s why you’re confused.
“i was dealing with a lot. i’m sorry.”
“that’s not really an excuse, rafe.” your lips pursed at him before rubbing together, the clear lip gloss coating them acting as a lubricant to prevent friction between them. “you didn’t want to tell me what was wrong when i asked, so you don’t get to use that card.”
rafe puts the car into park before fully turning to you, the furrow of his brow intensifying as he squints. shaking his head slightly, he opens his mouth to speak.
“it didn’t have anything to do with you, though.” he said. “i didn’t wanna drag you into my shit because it was…it was a lot. it was a lot and you didn’t need to be involved.”
“okay, and that’s fine.” your eyes flickered over at the dashboard’s clock to check the time, the number rising with each minute into the night. you turned back to him. “what’s not fine is blowing me off for months and then asking me why i stopped calling. you didn’t care to answer the phone when i did.”
rafes hand rakes over his buzzed head, fingers running through the stubble that replaces the golden locks that once held its place. he pulls his lip in between his pearly white teeth as he nods at you, tongue peeking through as they part to make space for the pink muscle.
“you’re right.” he doesn’t argue like he usually would, the sudden accountability taking you by surprise. “that was kinda fucked up, wasn’t it? you didn’t deserve that.”
“no, rafe. i didn’t.”
he nods his head again and leans back against the cool, tinted window. his lids are low as he looks across at you, the intensity of his gaze causing your heart to leave bruises on your ribs from how strongly it pounded. you could barely hear anything, blood rushing past your ears and every breath shakier than the last.
stepping out of the car, rafe makes his way over to the passenger side door. you watch curiously as he crosses the front of the car, the street lights shining down on his broad frame. you don’t move when he opens the door, nor when he looks between you and your seatbelt expectantly.
your brows raise at the man briefly before the ‘click’ of the seatbelt fills both your ears, hands removing the snug strap from across your chest. you take the hand that he offers to exit the car, glancing up at your house again before taking it. nobody seemed to be awake but you still didn’t want to risk anyone seeing us this close together.
“nobody’s gonna see, y/n . calm down.” rafe’s voice so close to your ear pulls your attention away from the property and back towards him standing before you.
you stepped down from the truck with his aide, but he didn’t move even once your feet touch the ground. instead, his hands moved to grasp your waist and pull you closer. the move felt so familiar yet so strange, but you accepted it rather than pushing him away.
the warmth of his palms against your bare skin was intensified by the jolts of electricity felt whenever we touched. you could tell he felt the way you shivered in response to his fingers just barely gripping the soft flesh beneath them, thumbs smoothing over in a back and forth motion.
“i’m sorry i ghosted you. i was an asshole for that, and you know what? i deserve whatever you feel towards me.” you say nothing, but don’t push him away either. he takes that as a sign to continue. “but i hope you find it in you to forgive me, because i–i miss you.”
you nearly snorted as he uttered the sentence.
“you miss me?” you repeated the words back to him. “you sure know how to show it.”
“yes, i miss you.” rafe’s hold intensifies for a moment before going back to its previous state. “when i saw you at the party tonight, i–i didn’t know how much i missed your face. i missed your smile, your smell. i missed having you close to me and being able to hold you like this…”
the sound of him inhaling strongly shook you, his eyes screwing shut as he took in the combination of your natural scent and the gourmand perfume you wore. his fingers twitched against your skin as he resisted the urge to dig them deep into the flesh like he always used to. his chest rose and fell intensely, all but able to see his blood pumping through his jugular.
“god, i fucking miss you.”
“rafe…” you called his name softly but sternly to pull him out of his hypnotized state. his eyes open but they’re barely focused. you weren’t sure if his pupils were blown because of the high, or because of you. “i miss you, too.”
the stillness between us remains until you broke it, the voice in the back of your head reminding you of the months spent trying to get over him.
“i miss you, but i can’t do this again.” you sighed heavily. “you fucked me up for months, rafe, and i can’t let that happen again.”
“it won’t happen again. i promise.”
sou shook your head at his words, tongue poking out just enough to taste the vanilla flavor of the gloss coating your lips.
“no–no, rafe. no promises.” you let your hands fall to rest on top of his, watching as the sudden contact makes him shiver just as much as it used to when he did it to you. “no feelings–i can’t do that again.”
you pushed him away gently and stepped to the side, unsure of if you’d regret the words about to leave your lips next.
“if you wanna fuck, then we can do that.” your bluntness catches him off guard, head jerking back at the directness of the words. you’d never spoken like that before, and it shocked you as well. “but the lovey-dovey shit that we used to do? no more of that.”
“what?” rafe looks at you in disbelief, the vulgar language leaving him stunned. it was a rarity that you cursed–at least around him–, let alone said something so…intense. “what is that supposed to mean? ‘no more lovey-dovey shit?’”
you shrugged and pushed past him fully, feet carrying your body a few yards away before turning back to speak. he looked thoroughly confused and a bit hurt, but not as hurt as he left you when he ghosted you with a million unanswered questions and just as many ignored phone calls.
“it means if you call me in the night-time, i might pick up.” your eyes scanned for his reaction to the words left echoing in your own head for a moment, the heat of his gaze reminding you of the reason you needed to escape into the house behind you to begin with. “just depends on what you’re on.”
rafe was left standing in the dark of the early morning, bewildered and alone.
#rafe cameron#rafe cameron x reader#rafe cameron x pogue!reader#drew starkey#outer banks#rafe cameron x kook!reader#rafe cameron x oc#obx fanfiction#obx2#obx1#obx3#obx fic#rafe x reader#rafe obx#rafe imagine
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Henry Barrow Headcanons
Watched a playthrough of Killer Frequency today, and my goofy brain thought how Henry would be like in a relationship with you. Now, I know that the guy never speaks and we barely know anything about him, but to be honest, that has never stopped anyone! So, I hope you enjoy my HC of our secretive silent slasher :))))
TW: murder, kidnapping, Henry being slightly yandere
General:
He's definitely a real sweetheart and would definitely go out of his way to make you happy, though you'd probably have to make sure he doesn't endanger himself in the process
Will do anything to make you happy, and I mean that quite literally
You could do no wrong in his eyes
Rationalizes, justifies, and defends anything you do, even if your actions hurt him
If you manage to build a strong enough relationship, he would totally betray his mother if her desires conflict with yours
Obviously, he's a man of few words, only talking when it is necessary
Tends to whistle out of habit (because I believe that Marie had to have trained him into the role as The Whistling Man)
Likes taking you with him on strolls through Gallows Creek, don't ask me why it's just a feeling
Doesn't know where (or how) to take you out to dinner, so he just takes you to Ponty's Pizza because he heard, through The Scream, that it had amazing pizza "to die for"
If you're on a date, he'll take you out to places he was taught to be familiar with, such as the Maize Maze and Whistling Point, since all he ever learned was related to avenging his late father
Generally submissive and will attempt to mold himself into the perfect boyfriend for you
However, don't think he's entirely docile
Unless specifically stated to not do so, he will eliminate anyone who interferes with his relationship with you
Basically, he'll do whatever you say, but anything outside of that is free reign for him to do whatever he pleases
During Murder Spree:
Once it begins, he'd try to protect you from his mother's plan by scaring you into leaving Gallows Creek
If there was anyone that bothered you or tried to take you from him, they're most certainly going to die that night, Marie's plan be damned
Will tune into The Scream if you happen to be a caller, to hear your voice and also to know your current status
His feelings will be hurt if you help Forrest and Peggy, but he knows that you're just scared and confused
(Plus, he plans on dealing with his wounded emotions in a very healthy, mature, and normal way by murdering the two)
Should you be closely associated with a target, he will knock you out and hide you somewhere safe until he's able to convince his mother to spare you
You definitely serve as a motivation for him to not get caught by the police
#slashers#slasher x reader#henry barrow#henry barrow x reader#x reader#headcanons#killer frequency#reader#killer frequency x reader
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Yongie can you do monsta x reaction to making their so cry pleasee I’m begging
Monsta X Reaction To Making Their S/O Cry
Shownu
The moment he sees your cheeks full of tears, his face closes off
He doesn't say word at the beginning
he has no expression whatsoever on his features
He is the type to just look at you before actually asking you if you are alright
I don't think he understands what he just did at first
but he will want to communicate with you and try to know why you are feeling that way
why you crying
only then will he realize
Shownu will act mature about it usually
he does apologize for his behaviors
and then he becomes clingy
he would want to comfort you with food
with snuggles and hugs
He will fix things
Minhyuk
This man will act all worked up
You probably crying because he didn't hold his tongue and said horrible things to you
and when you start crying he will hate himself
but at the same time, he wonders why you went for it
He is a mix between feeling bad for you and being "see I told you"
Minhyuk will give you a few minutes to get yourself back together but he would want to talk it through
so no bad feelings stay between the two of you
He would probably try to solve the thing with physical touch
like kissing and hugging you
or even taking you inside the bedroom
he can be persuasive if you want me to be honest
Kihyun
This man will feel awful if he ever makes you cry
like yes, maybe he wanted to be right about something but that didn't mean he needed to put you in tears
Kihyun will feel really guilty although he has a hard time apologizing
he will do it
And then it's up to you
if you want to talk things through at the moment, go for it
if you prefer to take some time to collect yourself, he will allow you to do so as well
He just wants to make sure that you are relatively alright
After that, he will act a little bit impulsive
due to his conflicted emotions, he will try to do too much at once for you to forgive him
which can be annoying for you
he will try to compensate you with a going out or a date
and if you don't want to go out he might perceive it as you not caring about his apology
Hyungwon
This guy won't apologize for making you cry
he will be the type to feel everything inside
empathy, sadness, and guilt toward the fact that he made the person he cares for cry
but still, he would be unable to say sorry mostly due to the lack of verbal empathy
he is the type to just look at you, and nod listening and waiting for you to calm down from your cries
Hyungwon will then take some time for himself
meaning that he prefers if both of you just take some time out to reflect on things
he wouldn't want to communicate anyway and he won't give you any emotional of physical contact that you might crave at the moment
just space so you both can reflect on what was wrong and discuss it later
Jooheon
Jooheon like the rest of the boys is the type to apologize after he realized that he made you cry with one of his actions or his words
he would feel very conflicted about the whole thing
and he might not even know what to do
but since he is very close and dependable on you he would want to fix things at the moment
to talk to you about what happened
to understand and to apologize currently
Jooheon has also a big heart
so once you have calmed down he would be very warm
whatever you want as compensation he will give it to you
and he actually makes sure not to betrayal your trust again
I.M
He is so angry
when he sees you cry it probably makes him get even more upset than he was before you guys started arguing, or before you started crying
he just can't stand it
and he won't
in any case and based on his chart, Changkyun won't apologize
and he won't stay around you while you cry
he prefers to isolate himself and wait that you calm down enough to come and talk with "rationality" rather than "emotions"
Changkyun might really act like an ass
this guy could leave the room and go eat a sandwich while you cry
or he would fall asleep on bed while you cry beside him
so it might be quite complicated
#Monsta X#Monsta X astrology#Monsta X headcanons#Monsta X imagines#Monsta X scenarios#Monsta X reactions
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༻¨*:· 𝐈 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐘𝐨𝐮, 𝐓𝐨𝐨 ·:*¨༺
𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟏
༻¨*:· summary ·:*¨༺
you and remus are just friends. with benefits.
༻¨*:· notes ·:*¨༺
𖦹 fem!reader
𖦹 mutual pining
𖦹 idiots in love
𖦹 a sprinkle of angst
𖦹 mature themes, nothing graphic
𖦹 shitty writing/ending
𖦹 i did not proofread this bc i'm lazy ⎝(ˊᗜˋ)⎠
༻¨*:· word count ·:*¨༺
𖦹 725
Satan is all about temptation, right?
'Temptation is a trial in which man has a free choice of being faithful or unfaithful to god.'
Remus was pretty sure it was something like that.
All he knew was that you were a trial of temptation, and he would gladly choose to go through that trial any day of the week. Because fuck, the way you said his name and the way you felt around him was so goddamned erotic. It was pornographic, and he couldn't get enough.
But he also cherished those small moments with you. He would never tell you, though.
He adored seeing you apply makeup or brush your teeth. It was all so domestic, and he selfishly wished he was the only one to see you like this. He prayed that your other hookups didn't get to see you do the most mundane things, like washing your hair. He rationally knew they also saw you like this, but, in his greatest fantasies, you were just for him to see. Only he got to see you laugh at something stupid on the TV while eating crisps. Only he got to see you fluff the pillows on the bed.
With blown pupils, he watched your chest rise and fall, "What the fuck?" He murmured.
The words caused a wave of confusion to crash into you; it turned into a weird feeling of hurt.
"Hm?"
Remus went rigid, for just a second, before speaking again, "Nothing about you, Lovely. Nothing about you," He opened his arms and mumbled:
"C'mere, baby."
Baby.
That stupid pet name rang in your ears each time he said it.
Baby, baby, baby.
Each syllable was more deafening than the last.
You crawled into his lap and basked in the sensation of his chest against your back, hands roving along your body like he could never get enough of how your skin felt.
"So pretty."
You detested how his lust-slurred words were laced with tenderness.
Still, you let your body melt into him as he praised you.
"I would never talk about you like that, my lovely girl."
Then, he let out a breath colored by the ghost of a laugh, "I s'pose I'm talkin' like that 'cos of you, though."
"Why?" Your voice was quiet and lazy.
"'Cos, what the absolute fuck did you do?"
His calm tone only confused you more. "Hm?"
He closed his eyes and spoke into your hair, "Did you lace your lips with a fuckin' love potion?" He took a breath, articulating during his exhale, "You make me crazy. Absolute fuckin' insane. I want to kiss you silly."
He hugged you tighter against him.
You closed your eyes and tried your hardest to disguise the sigh you let out as bliss rather than despair.
Remus, ever so observant, could tell.
"What's wrong?" He frowned at the idea of him hurting you.
"Nothing," You dismiss. Remus is having none of it.
"No, it's not 'nothing,'" He rests his head on your shoulder, "Something's wrong. What is it?"
"Let it go, Remus," You sigh and try to get up. He doesn't let you.
"You're staying here," His breath tickles your neck, and he smiles at the giggle you let out.
You fall asleep with his arms around you, hoping he'll wake you with chaste kisses. He did; you fell just that much more in love with him.
When you went over to Remus's the first time, you didn't intend on getting ruined, but he made a suggestive comment, and then you were in his bead screaming his name. When a man like Remus Lupin comes knocking on your door, you don't turn him down. But maybe you should have ended it a long time ago because your feelings for him only grew with each hookup. Still, you kept returning because having some of him is better than having none of him, right?
You tried to convince yourself that your feelings were just faulty. A boy was giving you attention, so you thought you liked him. But your mind knew better than to listen to you. Your brain remembered all the times you cried when he was with someone else in school, when your eyes lingered on him for a little too long, and how your heart skipped a beat when he was around.
You were so, so screwed.
༻¨*:· thank you for reading, my lovelies ·:*¨༺
Mutuals ଘ(੭ ˊᵕˋ)੭*༺ ♡‧₊˚
@forourmoons @sw34terw34ther @innerloverpainter @evergreenlover @nyxxxxxxxx @masivechaos @puppy-coded @youre-so-lovely @lucasnclair @woahlifehitsyahuh
#remus lupin#fwb!remus lupin#remus lupin x reader#remus lupin x you#remus lupin x y/n#remus lupin fic#remus lupin fanfic#remus lupin fanfiction#remus lupin angst
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I'm starting to think Astarion is your golden child in this AU. He's always seems to be descrobed as the level headed mature one compared to the others! I know thats not true, So let's dirty him up a bit. Give me some vile gross tidbits about your version. Give me some violent delights about this boy
Oh god, you are RIGHT. He is actually the golden boy for the funniest reason.
Hilariously enough, it's because he has a lot of love and support and affection from his brothers. His trauma is acknowledged, and he was he most open to working through it, and he has a lot of support for a work in progress mentally. He was able to talk about it and although Corvus and Reaves and Ilya are very toxic in some ways, toxic masculinity with each other isn't it. They'll happily love and support him. Corvus especially is very good at caring for someone when he loves them, and he loves Astarion and his chosen 'family' to the point of embarrassment on his part. Part of taking Astarion under his wing and making him his responsibility was helping him deal with his trauma, and he acknowledged that, and he did it. It was important to him.
Because of this, Astarion ended up a bit... Healthier than everyone. He had somewhere else to focus his sadistic tendencies rather than on himself. He's still a complete bastard, but it's not trauma-fueled.
Now, it's a double-edged sword, because the people helping him weren't exactly healthy. He worked through it, but uh.. aside from a lot of talks with his brothers, it was very much not in a healthy way. That being said, he's one of the only ones who has achieved his revenge, taken back control of his life, and is genuinely content with the way things are. Cazador is dead, he has taken back his agency, and he has worked through his issues.
He has control of his body, his life, and who he keeps around him. It didn't make him a compassionate, and kind person (good luck with the present company) but it made him healthier and less vindictive. It made him capable of rational, healthy thinking when needed. He understands people better. He can understand plight and trauma.
He has to be the voice of reason because everyone else is still plagued by their issues. Everyone else is still, in one way or another, still actively suffering.
Corvus's 'father' is still alive in a lot of the aus, and he cannot rest and cannot be complacent while he is alive. That is his living nightmare. He still lost everyone he loved because of his 'father'-- his siblings, his true parents, people he chose to love, etc. He was literally put through hell and came out forged in fire. He's still angry and ambitious and suffering underneath all that domineering, hateful shit. He wants the throne because that is the only way to end it. His 'father,' his fear, his endless cycle of hate. He feels like with all the power, that is literally the only time he will be safe and will have enough power to keep everyone he loves safe-- and he buries that underneath power hungry bullshit. It's part of why he turned Astarion into a fully honed vampire lord weapon-- so he could protect himself because he loves him. Corvus very much is suffering underneath all of that ballsy veneer. Don't get me wrong, he's a son of a bitch, but it stems from intense trauma. He became this way because he needed to for survival and the survival of everyone he loves. He cannot rest until he feels safe, and he is so paranoid at this point-- even through all this power-- I don't know if he ever fully will without a lot of working on himself. It is tied in to who he is as a person, his theological beliefs, all of it.
Reaver never ever dealt with anything. He lost the two loves of his life, inadvertently abandoned his children, and became a selfish, wretched motherfucker to cover his overwhelming pain.He suffers consistent night terrors and cannot be alone with himself, self medicating and killing to soothe the agony of it. He accidentally killed one wife, and then he watched another woman he loved wither and die and refuse to stay alive with him because he was such a bastard that they were literally ideologically opposed because of who he made himself. It was his own fault and he cannot face that. He killed everyone he loved, all of his family, all of his friends, all of them accidentally but still selfishly and foolishly and to cope with that, he has to lean into being a cold, unhinged, ruthless murderer. He believes that, aside from his brothers, he will spend eternity alone, with him passing the world by as an immortal monolith and plague of humanity and that the only thing that matters is temporary hedonistic pleasure because it's all he has. He has given up on every being truly happy. He does not want a wife, or children, or any legacy but death that is his Industry and his gun. He does not want anything else that will pass on without him or inevitably see who he is. He has made his existence a giant flashing warning sign. A harbinger of pain and suffering and a warning to keep the fuck away or you too will die. Pleasure and death is the only constant. He was already a bastard when he met Corvus. He has stayed one out of sheer stubbornness because unpacking it all just might kill him, but they do get him to open up occasionally.
Ilya never dealt with anything. To put it simply, he died in his prime trying to prove himself, and never let that go. When he died, he went hollow. He went straight to work in the hells and that just made him worse. Seeing the worst that reality had to offer and having his own experiences to boot. He realized that nothing truly means anything and that anything that has ever mattered was either taken away or abandoned him. Even death cannot spare you pain. The only person he loved, he will never see again, and even in death, there is no release. The only certainty is pleasure and that is all that matters. He came to a similar conclusion as Reaver. He makes a very rare exception for his brothers (and truthfully he expects them to abandon him later as well to be completely honest,) but he became extremely averse to relationships and any form of love and care because it ends up stabbing him and causing more pain than if he had just.. stayed away. He is in a self-imposed bastard isolation chamber. He will outlive everyone. He will lose everyone. It always blows up in your face, even if he doesn't outlive them. He finds happiness in shallow, foolish things, and he is staring down the barrel of eternity, same as his brothers, with no true love and experience waiting for him. He thinks that this is all there was and all there will ever be. He will not find love, or happiness. It will always leave him in the end. The only thing that he has are things he can control wholly.
Corvus and Ilya? They went through literal hell. Manifestations of fear and the horrible wretched things that made them who they are. They had to be there, but don't think it didn't impact them.
Reaver? He did this to himself. But he is so far gone, so past the point of being able to heal, that any attempt would probably unwind him. His wounds are scars he would have to cut open to restitch and reset himself.
Asto though? Asto's wounds were fresh. They were still there. Corvus found him, gave him the catharsis of revenge, and then helped him take back his autonomy. Gave him the agency of complete choice. Pushed off his seduction attempts once he understood just how bad things were. Helped set him right and realize that he didn't have to do this, and this his body, his mind, his personage are entirely his own. It wasn't too late for him. Corvus made sure to ensure that he never had to do that again. If he never wanted to touch another person, he never had to. Not him, not Reaver, not Ilya, not a single soul. Asto put in the work to be better and they helped him along the way.
Their love was not conditional. He helped him get the means to protect himself from ever being a slave again, and unleashed him. Completely untethered. No conditions. Just love and care for someone. He didn't expect his soul. He didn't expect anything in return. He just wanted him to be okay-- a rare show of selflessness for Corvus, mostly because he saw himself in Asto at first. And then he grew to genuinely love him.
All of them are suffering. But Astarion's demons? They're dead. He got his revenge. He got his time to heal. He has people who love and care about him. He has had time to work through it all.
That made him the inadvertent reasonable one. He hates it so much, but sometimes he must be the rational one and the voice of reason because everyone else is so utterly broken. They take shit too far. They have difficulties acting like normal, reasonable, rational adults and making normal decisions. Asti-boy had time to work through a lot of his bullshit, and he's just a bastard cause.. he can be. He enjoys it. It's the way he lives. There's very few unaddressed, deeply rooted reasons left. It's just how he likes to live.
Don't get me wrong, he very much is a twat. He is. Is absolutely is. He's not squeaky clean or level headed by any definition of the word. Any at all.
But when it comes to the others, he is, in the strangest way, the 'oldest' and 'most mature'-- (even though llya is technically the oldest if you want to get very strange and technical, but it depends how you quantify 'age' because he died and just sort of resumed living as a fiend, with Reaver following, and then technically Asto, with Corvus having more life experience and only being slightly behind in numbers.)
So when it comes to gross tidbits, I need a little bit... more to work with. He's just as gross as they are. He's very much a 'part of the group' and is really only rational when all else fails or something is going very wrong. He absolutely will join in the chaos and be a prick when he wants to-- and he always wants to.
What kind are you looking for?
There was the 'Asto sleeps with Corvus's fiance' debacle. The 'Asto proposed to the girl first to steal her' debacle. The 'Asto is not allowed around weddings' bit. There's the 'Asto becomes the terror of a small village and becomes a permanent babayka (not to be confused with baba-yaga) for them' incident. Like he's been a real shitheel for years. There are fewer examples of him being level headed than there are of him being a twat. If you're looking for specifics, I got 'em.
Like he is absolutely still a shithead. He's just a bit more... put together than the others sometimes.
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random takashi mitsuya headcanons
...because why not?
cw: none.
note: these are just random things i think fit mitsuya. this isn't an x reader specifically, though you are free to picture yourself in certain circumstances if you want. also you can agree or disagree with me, that's fine and i'd love to hear your thoughts on these or even any new ones you have but don't start an argument with me or anyone else please. (yes this is a repost bc Tumblr apparently has some grudge with me?)
• mitsuya is an emotional person who is very good at rationally dealing with his emotions. he is genuinely a smart guy, he can acknowledge and accept his emotions and still only use logic while dealing with his personal feelings.
• ever since he was a kid he has been burdened with responsibilities most children his age don't even properly understand. so that has got to have some effect on him. he has learned to suppress and disregard his emotions. he also criticizes and scolds himself for being affected/hurt/excited about stuff that is less significant in comparison to other emotions often times.
• but when it comes to other's emotions and feelings, he is very sensitive and understanding. no matter how minimal they seem, he would never mock them for it. in fact he is always ready to help however way he can.
• mitsuya is definitely very very good at reading and understanding body language, unspoken words, clues and hints, the atmosphere and the room. he knows when to shut up, he knows when to speak, what to speak and how to deliver it. tone, time and place, he understands it well.
• speaking of which, mitsuya speaks very less. only when needed. it stems both from the fact that 1) he HATES being vulnerable in front of anyone. like it's a big no no for him. as someone who has been burdened with so many responsibilities and has been demanded to show more maturity than his age demands, he feels like he is the one who is supposed to be the sacrificer. he is supposed to be the mediator and the adult of the group. he often blames himself when something goes wrong which he thinks he could have handled. 2) he doesn't really have many people with whom he could talk? his sisters are younger than him, so of course he wouldn't dare burden them with his problems. he is a firm believer in "children should act and be treated like children." his mom is busy almost all the time and the rare times when she does get a day off, he wants her to rest and not deal with her son's issues. draken is probably the only one he goes to for advice if he really needs it, only because he sees him as the only reliable and smart enough person. hakkai is his man when he wants to rant though. hakkai is a very good listener, i believe.
• this boys plans EVERYTHING OUT. like he has a whole list of what all has to be done in a day and he WILL finish it off before transcending into slumber land. a very diligent worker. (mitsuya please take care of yourself and don't become a workaholic bb)
• he makes playlists as a hobby and a rejuvenative activity. he has playlist for every mood. he also has playlists for all his favourite genre of books because he likes reading books. not the biggest book lover in the world but he does enjoy reading a good book once in a while. going to be honest, a well written romance is right up mitsuya's alley.
• when mitsuya has a crush on someone, he draws them in some of his favourite dresses, just to see how they'd look. only out of curiosity, of course. just wanting to know how they would look in his creations. he might also use them as a reference/muse time and time again for his new works, whenever it's possible. now if his crush knows that or not, depends upon how close they are.
• fashion designing isn't just a passion of his without any reason. it's his way of unleashing his ideas and thoughts through his work. this is also a form of art. he speaks and connects through his art. almost all his works have an element of mitsuya in them. sure the tag is the biggest proof who it's creator is, but there are certain details in them that give the dress the Takashi Mitsuya mark.
• you can't tell me he didn't get into fashion when he saw fashionable clothes and was like woahhh i wanna wear them and asked his mother one day and poor boy got his heartbroken because they were so damn expensive. sooooo he decided to do something about it and used his old clothes and thrift shopped clothes and turned into DIY fashionable ones. and that's how he learned how to measure, stitch, sew, and all those things. and when he got so much positive feedback from literally everyone around him it turned into a passion. look at our boy now, he had his first ever fashion show.
• he is a delinquent. he is one of the captains in a gang. he has been doing this for so long and has been around gang members for so long but he still highly, highly values education. it's very important and meaningful to him. he also wants to set a good example for his sisters since they look up to him and copy him so much. but also, he actually, genuinely tries in school because he knows he can and he wants to. he definitely comes a little above an average student and if he put even a little bit more effort and time than he does rather than running around and dealing with gangs he would surely come in the top ten students of his class.
• women feel safe around him. he radiates this vibe or energy where women don't feel on guard and tense around him. same is the case with draken despite his intimidating looking and tall and muscular stature. no matter your gender, he is a very respectful and non-judgmental dude.
• he isn't the best with animals. he is quite a bit scared of them too. but birds do come up to him. every morning he changes the water for the birds from the bird bath and definitely adds bird grains before going to school because every evening when he comes back home, it's empty. this is one of the things that make him genuinely happy.
• he also likes going on walks alone or with hakkai most of the time. it helps him clear his head when home, school, gang and his dumb friends doing dumb things become too much for him. our guy gets angry or at least irritated a little quickly for his good but as i mentioned before, he can handle himself.
• draken has accompanied him once or twice too but they were discussing some toman related things then. draken doesn't really have much free time but we'll talk about it in the draken headcanons. this is about mitsuya.
• right so when he goes on walks he prefers going to the parks where there are fish ponds. he absolutely loves when the fish come near the walls and surround his hand. a grin creeps up his lips and he might look the cutest person when he is genuinely happy and excited. he gets giddy and his cheeks turn slight pink. he loves feeding the fishes. there is always fish food kept there for visitors like him who like feeding the different kinds of fishes in the pond.
• he is the eldest daughter in an asian family for his mother since luna is still small. (poor luna, hope you don't have to become your mother's therapist when you grow up)
• listen up okay? he watches soap operas with his mother. he gets sooo into it sometimes. he and his mom rant about how stupid the characters are or how they would handle certain situations much better. and when it becomes too sad, he might sniffle his tears back but mom knows everything 🎶
• definitely has a job to support his family too. add it to the list of things takashi mitsuya has to deal with. (here take all my love and support, pretty boy. i hear you, love♡)
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OOC: My biggest regrets regarding this webcomic. And, what's to come.
(( bad grammar intended.
In case you're worried I'm being badged by bad reviews and/or "focusing too much on the bad"--- no. These are self-criticisms I've always had about this comic. It's always a joy to see you guys like it so much and there are some comics I love more than others and return to reread just for myself; but I think it's fine to have a healthy self-critical lens about your work sometimes. Just as long as you don't go 2000s-era Lucas and try retconning everything. So without further ado:
>Dislike the earliest gag where Jack complains about being 'fat'.
>Keeping art consistent and low-effort so it wouldn't take so much work.
>Introducing the Holiday leaders like I did. So underwhelming.
>"Mothball" [*sideshow bob grumble of pain*]
>While we're on it that earlier depiction of Clown being a jerk to Sally and Sally needing to be pepped-up by Jack to feel good about herself. Like 'Mothball' is needs a serious rewriting of dialogue to make it bearable ((to me)).
>"Packing Up" for reasons that should be painfully obvious later when I finish making Halloween Town comics. (it goes against current continuity in my headcanon)
>Really I regret how I wrote Sally and Jack a lot throughout the years. You can tell I was battling different takes about the characters and rationalizing them. I made Sally way too demur and Fluttershy-ish when she's not that kind of shrinking violet meanwhile Jack's either too kind and mature or too wrapped in guilt. For Sally I think I was operating on the logic that og-Carolyn-Thompson-script-softspoken-Sally > better then how she is in the movie because someone in my life was trying to convince me Sally was underdeveloped, and with Jack it's being hit w people saying he's an absolute incel or got away with everything in the film* and my coping by giving him more obvious guilt. Though, in fairness, Oogies Revenge, Kingdom Hearts and the fanbase didn't help that disparity by claiming Jack's just a cinnamon roll. Half of the reason "Ask Jack Skellington" prompts ever existed is so I could have an excuse to make Jack the spooky-doofy manchild of terror he is. I neglected that part of him for so long and he and Sally would be so upset with me. I failed you my babies.
>I think the joke of Jack being way too naive about how violent the other holidays actually are and/or oblivious to what adults use Halloween for is overdone in my work. I've done that gag like four times now I think.
>Unnecessarily hating on Lock, Shock, and Barrel for no reason. I think it shows just how much I didn't care for the characters before Zero's Journey came out.
>The Beetlejuice ask/reply comic from like 2015 or 16 whatever is not canon.
>Jack and Sally were too smexual in my earlier gags. Good god I REALLY hadn't figured out my asexuality, or theirs, for that matter.
>Like Jack suffering more +being too riddled by guilt, I think I made Oogie way too OP in my Oogie's Revenge (the prequel story to the entire comic) outline.
>This is a problem I have with all of my work but I hate the walls of text and run-ons all the characters do. It takes me out of my own fanfiction when it's just so obvious when I'm talking vs when the characters are. "Sally and the Doctor suffers from this a LOT".
>So many decisions made regarding plotpoints and plotlines that I think I muddled along the way or did way too quickly as it's obvious I don't have an exact outline for any of this fan stuff I'm throwing out. I really wanted to emphasize Harley and Mayor's blooming romance more than I did. They deserved so much better.
>AUGHTHEAWFULSELF-EDITED TEXT I DID IN 2015-2016 WAS TORTURE WHY DID I EVER THINK THAT WAS A GOOD IDEA???!
---
All of this is to say, one day, if Oddities or my patreon makes enough dough and my SSI sitch isn't so fragile or fluctuating- I really wanna hire a beta editor/artist to be my extra pair of hands in sprucing this comic up and making it more articulate, readable and complete for my liking. And yes, it HAS to be a hired job. I can't promise big bucks but I refuse to hand that kind of responsibility to someone without compensation. This comic's too big.
As far as what to expect from the comic after this year, here's all I can tell you for my endgame plan:
I plan to go until 2027, when this blog will be 13 years old.
I want to make next year special as it'll be 31 years of Nightmare Before Christmas then.
You're gonna get a new character soon. Don't worry; they won't distract from the og cast too much. In fact they literally go to jail.
More of Halloween Town in the human world to come.
More Wolfman and Vampire brothers shenanigans.
Jack and Sally past tyme.
One of these final years Ima do something really special with the other holiday worlds and leaders. You'll see.
None of the characters will double die but I will be basically ripping off a spongebob episode.
No one from Halloween Town is ever going to meet anyone from New Holland. You are going to get a Beetlejuice character, but not a full blown crossover.
))
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how do you think that dabi and natsuo/fuyumi/shouto's relationship could be like in the ~~future~~/post-canon? like, your "ideally", what you'd like it to be like, take and your "what's most likely to happen" take, if you will.
Mmh, well, if you've been on my blog for a while, then you probably already know I don't think the story is building up towards a jail ending. At the very least, Dabi, Shigaraki, Toga and Aoyama are not getting locked up in Tartarus after AFO is defeated. I know this opinion is not considered "realistic" enough by the fandom at large, but bnha has never been a realistic story; if Nagant—the literal hired gun executing people on behalf of a corrupt, authoritarian government—can still be understood as having an inherently heroic heart by the moral paragon of the story, Deku, then it goes without saying that writing a gritty and realistic tale on cruelty and lack of forgiveness was never Horikoshi's intention. Besides, there's already foreshadowing of restorative justice ending.
That being said, given how the Todofam plot is headed towards reconnection, making amends and eventual healing, I think the natural consequence should be depicting Touya having a more normal and healthy dynamics with his family.
Since you asked about his siblings in particular, here's my thoughts:
- for one, Touya and Shouto were never allowed to socialize or spend time together. Shouto was still a baby when Touya tried to attack him, and Enji isolated the youngest from then on. Only recently was Shouto shown to form a relationship with Natsuo, so I expect him to be stubborn and develop one with Touya as well. Reconnecting with his family is a major point in Shouto's personal journey, and it's all the more important now since he never really met his big bro but only watched him from afar.
- same but different from above, Touya should also form a bond with Shouto. Like, the effort to be a family cannot be onesided. For much of his life, Touya didn't allow himself to see Shouto as his own person, but only as his replacement. At times he was shown being rational and realizing Shouto had no faults of his own, but then it was back at square one and seeing him with jealousy and pity alike the moment trauma resurfaced. That's not healthy, and that's now what I expect their dynamic to be like after the war. If Touya is able to depersonalize Shouto into this puppet made to dethrone him, it's only because Enji's parenting and their isolation exacerbated those feelings of inadequacy. But they actually have a lot in common, and they could only benefit from talking about their similar experiences and struggles to define themselves in opposition to their father.
- as for fuyumi, she grew up acting as a substitute mother figure, and I think it would benefit her to have Touya around, and be a little sister again. Frankly, she deserves the break. Just... Having someone older she can vent to or be vulnerable around would be a great thing for her, I think. It can be so isolating, having to be the mature and reliable one all the time. And true, maybe Touya will never be the responsible big bro who packs you lunch and kisses your hair when you leave for school, but just... Not having to be the Big Sis™ around at least one member of the family? Please and thank you
- Natsuo... Well. Natsuo devoted his career to helping people in similar positions to Touya. He's studying medical welfare (not medicine!), and it's implied to be because Touya's death left a mark on him for life. Having Touya back would not only finally ease the misplaced guilt he carries since he was eight, but it would also mean getting to hang out with a big bro who isn't as unhappy all the time anymore. I expect their dynamic to build up to be like... annoying little bro being a menace to his long-suffering big bro who secretly loves the attention.
But overall, I expect them all to eventually grow into a real family. Which means having meals together, fighting over tv channels, eating each other's food hidden away at the back of the cabinet... And staying up late at night to talk instead of sleeping. That kikd of mundane stuff, you know?
Now, realistically, I don't really expect the story to show all of that in great detail. It would need to change genre and become a slice of life to do so. So what I expect from canon is that foreshadowed meal together as a family, but with Touya in it. I can see it being the final wrap up of their overarching plot
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thank you episode 7 for confirming that TK can ball
There’s a certain kind of serenity in Carlos’ bedroom.
It’s not the typical college bedroom that TK has seen way too many of; it feels more mature. All his furniture is of the same design and his bed isn’t shoved into a corner. His curtains match the comforter and they block out the lights of the city, the room only bathed in the soft glow of the bedside lamp.
TK’s in here alone for the moment. He can hear Carlos gargling mouthwash in the bathroom after he left to toss the comforter in the washing machine. Carlos threw on a pair of boxers when he left, meanwhile, TK just slipped under one of his blankets.
TK doesn’t know if Carlos expected him to get up, but he doesn’t say anything when he comes back into the room. He simply slides under the blanket next to TK.
“You’re quiet tonight,” Carlos says, after a moment of comfortable silence. They’re both on their backs, but TK's knee is bent and Carlos is close enough that it brushes against his thigh.
“Sorry,” he mumbles. He picked up on it himself, but he didn’t realize Carlos had too. His fingers curl around the edge of the blanket. “I can go.”
“TK, don’t be ridiculous,” Carlos says quickly, his words bathed in a soft tone. He rolls his head to the side. “I’m not kicking you out because you had a bad day.”
There’s a hidden invitation in there for TK to tell him what happened, but TK doesn’t know what he’d even say.
He flips onto his side to face Carlos instead. “Tell me about your day.”
Carlos sighs, looking back at the ceiling. “Well, it didn’t go great, so if you’re looking for something to cheer you up it’s probably not this.”
TK shakes his head. “I wanna hear about it,” he insists. “If you want.”
Carlos grows silent and TK thinks that maybe he won’t share, but then Carlos quietly says, “It wasn’t bad, I just… My dad’s really excited about the season.”
TK frowns. “That’s a good thing, right?”
“It is,” he agrees. A beat passes and he confesses, “I don’t want to disappoint him.”
“Carlos…” TK says slowly, his heart hurting for the man beside him. TK wants to be let in, but he knows he has no right to what’s going on in Carlos’ mind.
Carlos swallows hard and TK watches the bob of his throat as he fights to get the words out. He shakes his head, almost to himself. “He has all these ideas for me and my future and I don’t–” He cuts himself off, trying again with, “I don’t know if I’m going to meet them.”
TK doesn’t know what propels someone like Carlos to hold that much doubt. It makes no sense to him, but then again, he knows that fears aren’t always rational. “Well, I don’t know him, but I’m pretty sure he’d love you regardless.”
TK can tell there’s more Carlos isn’t saying, but he doesn’t force it no matter how badly he wants to see those lines of tension in Carlos’ forehead erased.
“Yeah,” Carlos says absentmindedly and then snaps out of his head. “What about you? Did you see your family?” Carlos asks and TK’s surprised to find himself wanting to talk about it. Or at least, he’s not resistant to the idea.
“My dad, yeah.”
“You said he lives here?”
“Mh hm,” he confirms, flipping onto his back again. Carlos moves in tandem with him, switching their positions from before as TK twists the blanket around his fingers. “I had dinner with him and… it was fine.”
Carlos’ knee nudges him under the blanket. “That was convincing.”
TK sighs. “We fought.”
It’s been in the back of his mind for the better part of the night. Everything about Carlos distracted him from the argument for a little while, but as soon as he could think clearly, his thoughts went back there, to what his dad said. He feels a little bad about storming out like that, for his parting words. The longer TK sits with it, the more he’s forced to admit to himself that the reason he got so upset in the first place was because he wonders if his dad might be right.
Basketball is his life. He clung to it like a lifeline his freshman year of college because his mom always told him how good he was, how proud she was of him. And during the depths of his grief over her passing, he didn’t have much else. Somewhere along the way, he forgot how to get the rest of it back. Even Carlos is tied to him through basketball. He doesn’t know what they’d be without it. He doesn’t know who he’d be without it.
“I don't know,” TK mutters. “He might’ve been right.”
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Lilies and Soap: 4 - Nothing at All
“Did you know you carry Heaven with you?
I can feel it calling, from below
Won't you let me find it?”
“Nothing at All” by Lilies and Soap.
Lyrics by A. E. Bridgerton.
—
Both Kate and Anthony had written and recorded songs about sex before. It had never been a big deal. They were more or less mature about it. Perhaps they would tease each other when they first read the lyrics the other had written, but certainly by the time they were recording the song, they had gotten all the giggles out, and it was just about giving the performance the song deserved, and appreciating the art that they were lucky enough to be able to bring to fruition, just like with any other song.
So, Anthony had no idea what was wrong with him while he was in the studio with Kate, recording "Perpetual Commotion," one of the songs for their next album, which they had decided to call "Old Light."
Kate was the sole writing credit on this one and, as happened from time to time, Anthony found himself more than a little curious about who the song was about. On the surface, yes, the song was about sex. If that was all there was to it, it would be pretty uninteresting. But, as was always the case with Kate's songwriting, there was more going on than meets the eye, more of a story being told. Not just body, but heart and soul as well.
Anthony had known Kate for almost six years, most of her adult life. And, sure, it was possible to form intimate bonds in one's adolescence, but "Perpetual Commotion" was profound. It was mature. It was intense. It only made sense that the lover it was about was from her time at uni at the earliest, Anthony thought as he found himself more and more fixated on figuring out the answer to this question.
Yes, he could just ask Kate, but that felt too invasive. That's what he told himself, anyway. However, a nettling voice in the back of his head was telling him that the reason he didn't want to simply ask her was that, in reality, he didn't want to know. What if it was someone he was acquainted with? What if it was someone she was currently seeing? They worked so much, spent so much time together, that knowing the details of each others' personal lives just kind of happened organically. But of course Kate wasn't obligated to tell him anything. Maybe there was someone in her life. Maybe she was keeping it from him on purpose. Maybe that’s why she was so upset a few weeks ago.
And so Anthony found himself going into the day's studio session obsessively jumping with Herculean effort from conclusion to conclusion. It was a terrible headspace to be in if he wanted to perform at his best, to be in the moment.
At this particular moment, Kate was singing the verse that had been haunting Anthony the most.
"With you, I will die a thousand little deaths
Hoping to survive, rationing our breaths
Don’t know how to think, don’t know how to talk
Full of you, feeling you, don’t know how to walk
You’ve left me no choice but to learn how to float
Crimson memories of you own me, tracks on my throat
You are the best thing I've ever worn
I've never felt more beautiful
I’ll never be more beautiful"
The words made him think less about who the song was about, and more about putting himself in that person's shoes. He couldn't help it. She sang with so much emotion, there were real tears in her eyes. It was truly a beautiful sight to behold. And he felt himself being transported into that room with her, wherever it was. He imagined what it would be like, sharing in that transcendent experience, completely giving oneself over to someone else and feeling like it’s the only reason to exist.
Forgetting himself completely, all Anthony saw was a bright, ethereal vision of Kate. He’d never thought about her like this before. Or, at least, something about it felt new.
“Tony?”
“Hm?” Anthony didn't realise how out of it he was until he looked around at Kate next to him, and then, on the other side of the glass, Alice, who was their engineer, Tom, and Benedict, who was shaking his head in the corner.
“You missed the cue.” Kate raised her eyebrows at him. "You alright?"
“Oh, sorry. Fuck, sorry. Yeah, I'm fine. Sorry, guys.”
Anthony was able to keep it together for the rest of the session–more or less.
—
“This is my first choice.” Anthony said confidently.
“I don’t know. The first album was just me on the back.”
“Well, it happened to be the best picture. You agreed.”
Kate shrugged. “I did, yeah. I don’t know. I think this one is my favourite.” She pointed at the computer screen to a close up shot of Anthony’s hands. “You have nice hands.”
“You think I have nice hands?” Anthony looked over at her and Kate was hoping she wasn’t blushing hard enough for him to see.
“Yes, OK? Don’t let it go to your head, though I’m afraid I’m already too late.”
“Yep, you are. Anyway, about the photo: absolutely not.”
“Absolutely not?” Kate laughed at the finality of his answer.
“Yeah, veto.”
“And exactly how many vetos do I get?”
“You don’t need any because we’re going with this one. It’s just the best one, Lamb.”
Anthony looked at Kate with more intensity than this photo selection session warranted.
“Fine. It’s the tentative choice.”
“Excellent.”
“Tentative, Tony.”
“Sure.” Anthony poked Kate in the side and she smacked his back in retaliation.
Benedict gave a quick knock before walking into Anthony’s flat.
“Hey, guys. How’s the album art coming along?”
Kate and Anthony spoke at the same time.
“Ready for the graphic designer!”
“We still need some time.”
Benedict looked between the two of them with a mocking grin.
“O…kay. Well, either way, we need to get going to make it to lunch with Siena and her people on time.”
Anthony shot out of his chair. “Oh, yeah. Cool, let’s go.”
He seemed quite keen, and Kate tried her best to keep her expression neutral. She had attempted to prepare for this. And now, in the face of it, she immediately knew there was no amount of preparation that could make this any easier.
—
“Oh, my gosh! It’s been ages!” Siena gave Anthony, Kate, and Benedict all hugs before everyone sat down.
Anthony saw Siena, who looked even better than she did when they were all at the RCM, and thought that maybe he actually cared to know whether or not what Benedict and Colin said about her having a crush on him was true. Maybe he’ll investigate later.
“I know I saw you two at Highest Point a couple years back, but we had basically no time to talk. How is everyone doing?”
After a catch up chat, during which Anthony noticed that, while Kate was definitely being friendly, she wasn’t really adding much to the conversation when she wasn’t being addressed directly. She ordered a drink, which she never did during business meetings, no matter how casual. Lastly, she was fiddling with her necklace like mad. Taking advantage of Siena and Benedict going off on a tangent about some story from school, Anthony put a hand on the back of her chair and whispered, “You OK, Lamb?”
“Yep,” Kate answered with a bright smile. “It’s… It’s nice to reconnect.”
There was something off, but they unfortunately didn’t have time to get into it now.
—
The conversation finally turned to business. Siena explained to the best of her ability what she was looking for for her next album how she wanted to incorporate L&S’s sound. All parties agreed that the best next step was to have an informal studio session to have a first crack at honing in on the direction they want to go.
Benedict and Siena’s manager looked at their calendars and picked a place and time for the session as the lunch meeting came to its natural end. Kate exhaled a sigh of relief that it was over. Of course, they would be spending plenty of time with Siena in the upcoming months, but for now Kate just wanted to go home and do whatever she could to get her mind off of everything for the time being.
“What have you got on?” Kate asked Anthony as she put on her jacket.
“I, um…” Anthony looked back towards Siena, who returned the eye contact. “I’m gonna hang back,” he said sheepishly.
Kate nodded rapidly and forced a smile. “Right. Of course. The other reason for this meeting.”
Anthony shook his head, but he was smirking. “Eh, I figured, ‘Why not?’”
“Yeah, of course. Why not? Though, I wouldn’t say ‘why not’ to Siena. Just some friendly advice.” If Kate wasn’t ready to bolt before, she certainly was now.
Anthony leaned in and whispered, “Wish me luck.”
“Good–” Kate choked and cleared her throat. “Good luck.”
As Kate punished herself further by watching Anthony walk over to Siena, she felt a hand on her shoulder. She turned to find Benedict offering her a warm smile.
“Hey, seeing as neither of us drove here, do you fancy finding a pub and getting absolutely hammered?”
Kate genuinely laughed for the first time in two hours. “At 3pm?”
“Sure. I don’t have anywhere to be. Do you?”
Kate shook her head.
“Excellent. Let’s go somewhere and talk about absolutely anything as long as it has nothing to do with…” He looked over at Anthony and Siena talking. “Well, let’s just call it ‘work,’ eh?”
“That sounds perfect. Thanks, Ben.”
#bridgerton#anthony x kate#kanthony#kate and anthony#kate x anthony#kate bridgerton#kate sharma#kate sheffield#anthony and kate#anthony bridgerton#lord bridgerton#lady bridgerton#viscount bridgerton#viscountess bridgerton#the viscount who loved me#kanthony fanfic#kanthony fanfiction#kanthony edit#kathony#kathony edit#kathony fanfic#kathony fic#bridgerton au#lilies and soap au#lilies and soap#musician au
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@cassandraclare
Hopefully Kit will grow out of his chronically self centered victim complex but the more content we get and the older he is in it the more prominent it gets. It might be catering to the youngest side of the readers who crave a martyr of the likes of self insert fanfiction, instead of a well rounded character, but it does not work. His life has been easy compared to many of the characters he is resentful of for not catering to his every need, and of course the fandom eats it up since they love a Mary Sue. The blackthorns did everything they could to accommodate him and everything we see of him is bitter and resentful towards them or so delusional as to believe they wouldn't understand his struggles. Or telling a Blackthorn (whose biggest offense was to take Kit at HIS WORD, and to be too preoccupied with the loss of his twin to tell him he loved him) to get out of the Blackthorn estate. It is understandable that a teenager would be upset at that, it isn't understandable that the adults around him pretend it is a rational response, and that the others involved feel guilty about to such an extent. (What did he even mean Ty shouldn't have been there? What is Ty and every other Blackthorn and Herondale and Fray supposed to be so apologetic about? Their lives crumbling at the same time Kit realized he was a shadowhunter and not holding his hand enough through it? That happends to 1 out of 5 shadowhunters.) I understand people really wanted Jem and Tessa to have a connection with the last Herondale, but this way of pushing the narrative is so tired. He wasn't rescued from a traumatizing environment. How is he more understanding of Jace and everyone else but the people who took care of him before he was a Herondale. Why does he talk like they did him dirty. I hope he matures and we aren't stuck with another TMI Jace. The Herondale boy martyr is a trope that should have died with Will. @secretsofblackthornhall
#secrets of blackthorn hall#the wicked powers#ghosts of the shadow market#the shadowhunter chronicles#kit herondale
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UNDER YOUR SKIN || JJK || Ch. 6
Pairings: tattoist!jk x fem!reader
Genre: smut, angst, friends to lovers, tattoo au, virgin reader.
Summary: You were awful on anything related to flirting, guys and sex. He was the perfect ladies man. You wanted to get rid of your virginity. And he was there to help you with everything you needed. You didn't have the best start, but that didn't mean you wouldn't have the best of the endings.
Previous || Next
MASTERLIST
I pack the last few things, just one more jumper and a jacket in case it gets cold there, which could easily be the case this time of the year. And while I'm waiting, sitting on the couch, eyes fixed on the turned off television, I keep making up excuses in my head so I can save myself from going.
I'll be surrounded by people I don't know, and with whom I'll just keep some small talk and superficial conversations. So, in that sense, I'll be relieved by Tammy's presence and controller energy. I'm low key sure she'll try to introduce me to everybody, and will be the one in charge of building my new friendships.
But Jungkook...
After what happened in the supermarket, we didn't talk much on our way back -more like we didn't speak at all. Not even when he offered to -genuinely- drive me back home. I didn't even use words, I simply nodded and muttered a low "Thank you" before I got off his car. And I'm ashamed. I acted all bitchy and still he offered to drive me back home..
Wait, I'm not feeling bad for him, am I?
Maybe it's because I knew he was right when he cornered me last week. Jungkook drives me nuts, but at the same time, I can't deny he has something that makes me lower my guard as soon as he's just centimeters away from me. Like my rational and mature side knows I should step back and keep some distance, while my needy side feels he's everything I've been waiting for. And what is this shit? A side effect of not living my teens the way I had wanted to? Is this a way to settle every phase of my life?
Seriously...
He's an asshole. And a little reminder for you, horny virgin, he has a girlfriend. Not only you should be thinking he's a dick, but he's also taken. And his girlfriend is someone you're trying to be friends with. Is that enough?
I've been so deep in my thoughts, I hadn't realized my phone was shaking in my pocket for a little while. Well, enough time to get three calls from Tammy.
—We're waiting for you —she sings—. Are you coming now or should I go up and drag you outside?
Yeah, no. I don't need that. I get up and give one last look to my house, making sure everything is correct before I place the strap on my shoulder and close the door behind me. I'm surprised to see one of my neighbors getting out of the lift. Ever since I moved in here -and it's been a few years-, I've barely run into any of them. And mister Hallagan, who lives next door, is no exception.
I rush to get in the elevator before the doors close. I try to look at my reflection through the painted and scratched mirror, but it's impossible. I give up, turning around again to face the small entrance once the doors open again on the low level. A loud bell noise in my back, that gets lower to sound loud back again before it suddenly stops, officially informing me the elevator reached the first floor.
I'll end up being thankful for being able to get away from this place, even if it's just for a day.
But that happiness doesn't last long enough. Actually, the moment I cross the main door and see the black SUV that took me home last week, my expression fades. I feel tempted to turn around and get back to the elevator.
Could be it's Melanie's car.
I see Tammy leaning out the backseat window, waving at me while telling me to put my things in the car trunk.
With heavy steps, I walk to the car and do as she says, making sure I close the door correctly before I join her in the backseat. Although my eyes first see Tammy with a big smile, and Jungsoo looking excited to see me here, my thoughts get totally blinded by that annoying lip ring reflecting and those doe eyes looking at me through the driving mirror.
The longest four hours of my life.
Jungsoo and Tammy seem to rekindle the conversation they were having before I joined, and I really try to include myself in it. Trying hard to focus on their talk and avoid as much as possible the look he keeps on giving me.
Is this some type of revenge after what I did last week? Staring at me so deep until I get uncomfortable enough?
—Shall we stop somewhere and get something to eat? —Soo suddenly suggests.
—Yeah —Tammy lets out a sigh—. It'll also be okay to stretch out our legs.
—Imagine not eating anything until we get there —Soo jokes—. 5 pm, we safely arrived, but one of us is missing an arm.
While we're still on the road, and one of the moments we go absolutely silent, I pay attention to their gestures -or more like the lack of those. They aren't touchy, they don't playfully hold hands, don't look at each other. And Jungsoo didn't even talk to him. Maybe they're that kind of couple that rather show affection behind closed doors. And why the fuck am I even dissecting their relationship?
Two hours and a half later, the speed of the car decreases until it stops in a service area. We found it in the perfect moment, while we were close of going insane because of hunger. We kept saying to wait a bit more while we drove past some roadhouses. But as soon as we were hungry enough, that our guts were battling with one another about who's in more need of food, it seemed like all the bars and restaurants disappeared.
—I'll go to the restroom fast —I say as soon as we get in—. If they want to take our command, I'll get whatever you do —I talk to Tammy.
While they take a seat at one of the several empty tables, I head to the white door that's on the left side of the counter.
While I'm washing my hands, after finishing, I think Jungkook could pull a cliche and be waiting for me, bending on the wall in front of the restroom bathroom. I rub my hands harder, and as soon as my eyes reach my reflection on the mirror and see a flash of a smile, I know I'm in trouble. I suddenly stop smiling, and see my own expression being replaced by a disgusted face.
—What the fuck is wrong with you? —I scold myself.
I bend over, just so I can splash some water -and sense- on my face.
I sigh in relief when I open the door and the blank wall welcomes me back, along with the silence in the corridor and some choky noises from the kitchen.
I join them back shortly after, and my stomach roars as soon as I see they all have their drinks -which means the waitress took their orders already and food won't take too long. As I get closer, I realize Jungsoo and Tammy are sitting together in one of the benches. The only empty space is right next to Jungkook. I frown while I think about why they didn't sit together. And why do I even care?
If I thought things would get better the moment we started eating, I was wrong. The moment we get our burgers, he man spreads. His thigh and knee rubs against mine all the time, and I'm unable to think straight every single time it happens. Even the warmth coming from his body is giving me shiverings. I'm close to losing the appetite. I blame my lack of experience for this, but I refuse to believe he isn't bouncing his leg against mine accidentally. Although the way he keeps his head down, eating his burger makes me believe he might be doing it unconsciously.
And even if he was aware, most probably he'd apply the law of silence. The exact same one he's been practicing for a week. And that makes me wonder if he got offended at some point.
We don't spend much time there. We eat, rest for a bit and rush back to the car so we get to Seneca lake as soon as possible. Just two hours left.
I think maybe a good choice would be trying to sleep on our way there. But my body reacts by itself before I can even decide if I want to sleep. The accumulated tiredness and the burger I've just eaten seem to take a toll on my body, because once my head is lodged against the window, my eyelids seal and I forget about everything.
✸ ✸ ✸
I don't feel embarrassed when I wake up and all eyes in the car are set on me, nor when I realize I slept so deep and good I ended up drooling and soaking my sleeve, nor after entering the cabin and feeling like an intruder and see there's more people than just the guys I met in the bar -although Soo already told me the day I decided to join them.
Nope.
What makes me embarrassed is the fact that they already distributed the rooms, and everyone was pretty much aware of who'd be their roommate. Everyone but me, obviously. Oh, but it can get even funnier. Because my roommate is no one else but Jungkook. But it gets even worse when I decide to speak up. They all look at me confused, but burst out laughing the moment I say it's weird and it makes no sense making me sleep with him, when Jungsoo is the one dating him.
Would be great if they explained the joke.
I catch Jungkook laughing with the rest, probably a bit louder than them. It's the first time I've seen him like this ever since we started our trip, and that doesn't augur anything good.
—Jungkook, my boyfriend? —Soo asks after trying to put herself back together— Did you tell her that? —she asks Tammy.
My friend shakes her head fast, still laughing from my comment. And all I can think of is encouraging her to keep laughing, because once we're back in town, she'll remember this. Especially when we start planning the shifts.
—You talked about him the first night, you have matching tattoos —I point to my own wrist—. And, when I told him, he kinda confirmed it.
—I talked about my boyfriend, Mark, he was the one that met Tammy in the tattoo studio. Jungkook and him are partners —she explains—. He's my brother, the one I told you that was just starting to hang out with us.
Yeah, I remember that.
—About the tattoos, well it's a siblings' thing. It's our initials. I have his, and he has mine. Why didn't you tell her we weren't together when she told you? —she confronts her brother.
He's still laughing out loud, before he breathes out loudly to answer.
—She looked so convinced —now he looks at me—. How could I dare to contradict her? —his eyes challenge me.
I'll kill him. He better sleep with one eye open, because I'll kill him.
#fanfic#ff#jungkook#jeon jungkook#jungkookxreader#jk#bts#wattpad#kookie#smut#jungkook smut#tattoistjk#tattooau#armpirate
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Almost 4 months on T and the ADHD and autism seem to be breaking out in its full glory. Well, I embrace it, as it helps me with getting rid of supressing my whole identity and neurodivergent needs.
I have read that adhd and asd can become more visible in women in menopause - increased testosterone levels... somehow gender-affirming HRT (ftm) could be similar. And when looking at the recent months, yes, for me it is very noticable.
I remember my first puberty, when it started at 12 yo, I was like somehow really odd in the brain - impulsive outbreaks of random thought gibberish, occassional screaming of dumb words that I could not stop saying/screaming, or making disturbing noises. Or talking gibberish endlessly, and deeply indulging in my special interests of theoretical fuckery. And observing people and social interaction just to try to understand the people around me. And trying to translate what people say in my own "language", which is, some sort of math, just to get a glimpse of what they are attempting to convey in their words.
I witnessed a large decrease of depression in the recent months, but also a slight increase in anxiety, mainly induced by increased sensory sensitivity and a far worse working memory.
Somehow T helps me - directly (via the biochemical alterations that also happen in the brain) as well as indirectly (via feeling more secure due to feeling more authentic, and also overcoming the fear of rejection when not heavily masking my neurodivergent self) - interestingly, it also helps me with dealing with my emotions. Before T they were far too intense, that I either shut them off entirely or became very moody. now they have a level where I can feel them in a healthy manner - not detached from them nor supressed, but somehow, more real and managable. In a sense, I am becoming more mature emotionally, as well as far more rational and logical.
And a lot of it makes me feel like being a 13 year old scatter-brained hyperactive boy who acts like an alien potato among humans - and who does not even understand his own silly associations.... ohh endless theoretical bullshittery...
But executive dysfunction sucks! The simpelst - especially practical - tasks are the most difficult for me - especially if they are extremely underchallenging and repetitive - repetition does not bother me if it's mentally challenging and stimulating enough. But for things where you need motor skills I entirely lack - it's like, really my body is a biological spaceship, and navigating it is disastrously exhausting! (Fine motor skills with a slight need of force - ends in maximal destruction!) (Dyspraxia is also getting more noticable.)
And my trains of thought disperse in literally all directions until they decay into brainy quantum foam dough. (What a hell of association?)
#nothing was meant derogatory#elliot.exe is loading#my transition#vitamine t#hrt testosterone#neurodivergent#actually neurodivergent#adhd#asd#autism#actually autistic#neurodivergent struggles#executive dysfunction
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[ 𝚊𝚜𝚊𝚑𝚒 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚢𝚞𝚛𝚒𝚔𝚊'𝚜 𝚝𝟸 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚛𝚘𝚐𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 ]
it's time to interrogate the hunger pair! man, i feel like out of all prisoner pairs these two are the most similar to each other. sure, maybe kei and eiko are very similar too, but still, one of them is only pretending to know about "mature" stuff when most of the time he acts and thinks like a child trapped in an adult's body and the other one is actually mature.
meanwhile these two are both screaming "PLEASE JUST HOLD US AND LOVE US AND SPOIL US ALREADY". (though eiko does have moments like that too, but in her case it comes from being tired and wanting a better life, meanwhile yurika and asahi are just. acting like kids. well, asahi is literally a kid)
Q.001. What's an event that sticks to your memory?
Asahi: Who cares? Most of my memories are blurry anyway.
Yurika: My boss saying I did a good job and giving me the warmest smile I've ever seen.
Q.002. What's the most expensive thing you've ever bought?
Asahi: I never buy anything myself, so if we're counting the things that were bought for me.. I don't remember which one was the most expensive.
Yurika: A really rare anime figure.
Q.003. Are there any rations that you want?
Asahi: More toys, I guess.
Yurika: What, are you still trying to act nice?
Q.004. If there was a chance of your one wish getting fulfilled, what would you wish for?
Asahi: One wish isn't enough for me.
Yurika: Not getting kicked out by my own parents.
Q.005. Do you like reading?
Asahi: I guess.. But don't you dare call me a nerd. I'm not like Akio-nii!
Yurika: Does manga count? You know what, it counts.
Q.006. What do you want other people to understand better?
Asahi: That kids need as much attention as you can possibly give them.
Yurika: That if a person has a dangerous or scary job, it doesn't mean they're evil.
Q.007. What does the word "mother" mean to you?
Asahi: Someone who doesn't just buy things for me, but actually spends time with me and.. I don't know, just shows that she cares about me.
Yurika: Someone who doesn't get rid of me once it turns out that I can't be useful.
Q.008. What's your favorite holiday?
Asahi: Probably my birthday. I mean, that's like, "my day", right?
Yurika: It used to be my birthday when I was a kid, but now I don't have one.
Q.009. What kind of person do you think you will become in the future?
Asahi: I don't know if I even have a future A really strong and cool guy.
Yurika: I don't know and I don't care. But after this, I'll definitely become more of a mess than I already was.
Q.010. What's your dream job?
Asahi: I don't know, but I want it to be cool and not boring.
Yurika: Many people have asked me this question when I was younger and my answer was always just "Do I have to work?"
Q.011. What do you think about the guards?
Asahi: Eiji-nii is weird. Miki-nee is nice. I like her.
Yurika: I want you both to choke on your own verdicts and die.
Q.012. What advice would you give to your past self?
Asahi: Don't talk to strangers.
Yurika: Don't trust anyone.
Q.013. What do you need to feel truly satisfied?
Asahi: A hug would be nice. A lot of hugs, actually.
Yurika: Being loved and spoiled simply for existing.
Q.014. Do you think having a sibling would be nice?
Asahi: Maybe having an older sibling would be nice.. But that's not why I call everyone my older siblings, okay?!
Yurika: Not really. Being an only child is much better.
Q.015. How did you feel after getting attacked by Yurika?/How did you feel after attacking Asahi?
Asahi: This crazy bitch deserves to be executed in front of everyone. That's all.
Yurika: I still wish I could do more to him.
#you know what's really funny and scary to me. like two women in this prison want to hurt asahi.#and yurika's been voted guilty. so. she WILL get worse.#and no matter what verdict naomi gets she will still try to do something to asahi#so yeah. good luck little one#there are still some subtle differences between them like for example yurika thinks being an only child is cool#and asahi thinks having older siblings is better#so it's kinda like yurika wants everyone to give their attention only to her meanwhile asahi is okay with “sharing”#✍️interrogations! ✍️#🍬prisoner 007: yano asahi 🍬#🎀prisoner 008: maruyama yurika 🎀#milgram#milgram oc#milgram project#ocgram
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Leap of faith (Part 1/2)
Fandom: Supernatural, Teen Wolf
Characters: Dean Winchester, Nogitsune/Void, Sam Winchestered (mentioned)
Words: ~3,6k
Rating: Mature
Warnings/Tags: Crossover, Season 7, Protective Dean, Hurt Sam, Post-Lucifer’s Cage, Angst
Also here on AO3!
A/n: I’ve had this laying around in my docs for Months now and finally decided to just post it (with no small thanks to my lovely beta, thank you, hun 😘) -- at least here maybe someone will get something nice out of reading it ;p Also, ngl, I’m hoping that posting this will help me Finally get the push to write the second part 🙈 I have it in my mind but... it’s been hard (overall) to do any writing lately 😪 But, anyway, this is just a simple, short “What if...” scenario that popped into my head and I went “why not?”, so -- hope it’s gonna be a nice read, y’all! ^^
Part 1:
That time Dean Winchester asked a trickster for help...
---
“Dean. Don’t you dare—”
“I’m just saying!”
“This is so stupid. Even for you.”
“Hey! You have any better ideas?” … “Yeah, I thought so. Listen. I wouldn’t tell you about it if I didn’t think it was worth a shot.”
“It’s a dark trickster spirit you’re talking about, Dean. They’re unpredictable and—”
“ —Yet I’m not hearing any other ideas from you! And I’m all ears!”
…
“Don’t do it, Dean…”
“Sammy—”
“No, not unless— not unless there’s no other option—”
“But—”
“Promise me, Dean.”
“Yeah, yeah…”
-
The food is all laid out on the table, smack in the middle of Bobby’s kitchen, slowly cooling down as Dean waits and paces, hands squeezed into tight fists. He’s repeated the summoning enough times that it should’ve worked even if he didn’t have the pronunciation quite right — and he’d had to drive for several hours to get all the damned dishes needed to appease a hungry spirit of chaos. It’s basically his only hope right now — that the lore is right about Kitsune, and hence also Nogitsune, having great appetites and a taste for Japanese cuisine; that it would catch the spirit’s attention enough so he can ask for what he really needs. What Sammy needs.
Air gets stuck in Dean’s throat, a ball of nerves and repressed emotions clogging up his windpipe; he stops in front of the table, knuckles white as he presses them to his lips. It’s a moment of weakness Dean should not allow himself, closed eyes and defenseless as he is, but rational thought is hard to come by when worry occupies most of his processing power. And it’s not even about hunting, not this time.
“Well, well, what do we have here?”
He whips around, searching for the echoing voice, but there’s no one — or at least no one visible.
Dean’s reminded of the fact that Nogitsune are also masters of illusions and forces himself to relax, to drop his hand from the gun tucked into his waistband. His summoning has been answered and that’s good, it’s good, even if the voice made a freezing-cold chill spread all throughout his muscles. Facing a new monster rarely makes an impression on him anymore, but now — now all of Dean’s instincts are on high alert and he can’t help but feel like the prey, out in the open as he is.
Swallowing through the tightness around his throat, Dean darts his eyes around in a fruitless search for the spirit.
“Heard you bunch likes to eat well,” he says, instead of everything that’s coiling behind his facade, and taps his fingers on the table. “Probably not as good as you��re used to, but— The best I could find around here.”
“And all this for little old me? Aww,” the voice purrs, a growl trapped underneath the low, smooth tones, an undeniable note of amusement and something on the edge of mocking in those drawn out words, coming from all around and yet nowhere at all. Dean’s still trying to find the source when, finally, it comes: “Awfully kind of you, I must say.”
This time, it sounds right from the other side of the table, and when Dean whips around, he can’t help but freeze — all of his life-honed hunting skills going out the window as if they were never there in the first place. And what’s shocking is — if he didn’t know with whom exactly he’s dealing with, Dean would never consider them a threat — or, well, if they looked more human, maybe.
The Nogitsune holds his chin low, head tipped, eyes black as night and a mocking little smile on full, plush lips that are possibly more desirable than Dean’s, and he knows what’s been said about those. And that’s the thing — he expected a woman, as the lore said they loved taking the form of beautiful females, but instead before Dean stands a young man (a vessel, maybe?), dressed in all black and pretty as a picture; if Dean had the right to judge. There’s no mistaking them for a human, though, not with the unnatural focus in the depth of their black eyes and the undeniable aura of self-assured power. Not put on to impress, but earned, inherent and effortless.
The smile spreads, just a bit, on the Nogitsune’s face, as if he just plucked those thoughts out of his mind and Dean represses another shudder, still frozen in place as if the dark, dark gaze has caught him paralyzed. He hasn’t experienced anything quite like this before — aside from meeting the fucking Death and yet, somehow, Dean has the feeling he was way more secure talking with the guy; at least he didn’t come for anyone before their time. But this here? He can’t remember when was the last time he felt more like he’s facing a predator with an intelligence way higher than his own — capable of switching from amused to blood-thirsty in less than a second and very much unlike all the monsters he’s already faced, ones that only seemed amusing when trying such a trick. This time it looks like it might be true — and Dean knows it wouldn’t be a quick death either.
Steeling his resolve, he clears his throat and tries, very hard, to relax the tense line of his shoulders.
“Well, dig in then.” Somehow, he even manages to unfreeze his arm to gesture at all the food. “You took your time, so it’s kinda getting cold.” Immediately, Dean realizes he should’ve bitten his tongue. He’s never had much of a filter, but when he looks up at the Nogitsune, they only seem amused, thank fuck. Not that it means he’s in any way out of the woods.
The Nogitsune’s eyes drop to the food, half-lidded in a way that almost seems seductive, inspecting it for quite a while before he drums his fingers on the back of the chair they’ve been resting on and, instead of pulling it out, steps aside to sit down at the corner of the table, one foot on the floor and his side to Dean.
It’s smart, he can admit, even if Dean’s kinda sure that if the Nogitsune wanted to escape, they probably wouldn’t need to physically move — it’s a bit mesmerizing to watch too, each and every single shift of the spirit’s body deliberate; smooth and graceful. Nothing quite like anything or anyone Dean’s ever seen.
The Nogitsune reaches for the chopsticks laid out before the dishes — Dean even went the mile and fucking checked how to place them correctly — breaks them apart easily and digs in for what’s probably chicken; Dean’s already forgotten all the different names but he does remember one of those was considered a favourite.
His nerves are all strung tight as the spirit places it delicately on his tongue and chews slowly. A low, thoughtful hum follows before he takes another one — Dean considers it a good sign, but when minutes pass with the Nogitsune just tasting all the various foods his hope wavers and his muscles lock up; tighter, and tighter, and tighter. Is it not good enough? Is he offending the fox with insufficient offering? Insulting an ancient trickster spirit would probably be one of the worst accidental things he’s ever done in his life — for his life — and what of Sammy then? He can’t—
“What would you know,” the Nogitsune finally muses, inspecting the piece of sushi held between his chopsticks, “I did have better.” He still eats it, but Dean’s muscles are all but frozen solid at this point, ready to shatter. When they swallow down, lowering the hand with chopsticks to rest across their arm, draped loosely over their lap, it feels like the moment of judgment has come. “But I suppose a romantic dinner for two isn’t exactly why you tried summoning one of us, is it?”
The Nogitsune looks up to meet Dean’s eyes then, their gaze so sharp and inhuman he gets the strongest urge to run and never go back. It’s like they stopped playing around, and yet just started another game. Dean hates, hates how unsure his footing is, but what else can he do? The spirit holds the cards here, and Dean can only hope to play his own right.
“I did manage to summon you, though, and you’re still here — that’s something,” he tries first, instead, self-preservation instinct out the window, as per usual.
The Nogitsune exhales a small huff of breath, an almost amused sound to it as his lips curl up.
“Manage is a strong word. You tried and I was bored enough to consider responding. There were many before me that saw a hunter and decided to stay away.” Their little, barely-there smile curves higher, just in one corner, and Dean tenses up even further. “Better for your own good, if you ask me — they might’ve been too tempted to go straight for you instead of being willing to listen. But—” He tips his head to the side, just slightly, the gesture so fox-like and yet distinctive it makes a cool shiver go down Dean’s spine. But then he also extends an arm in a much more familiar gesture. “—I’m all ears. What is it that you’d ask a favor for?”
Dean swallows down all his instinctual next words, some of them to the tune of how can I even trust you’re saying the truth, but that’d be just stupid to ask and wouldn’t get him anywhere. So instead he starts with:
“It’s not for me.”
The Nogitsune’s eyes turn even sharper, if that’s at all possible, and Dean almost looks away — it’s like the spirit can look right through each and every one of his defenses, his thoughts, and see straight to his core. Where no one should be able to look.
“Isn’t it?” They hold Dean’s gaze, quirking one eyebrow up, just slightly, and the feeling of being seen gets even more pervasive.
“It’s my brother,” Dean answers, ignoring all that’s implied and probably confirmed right now, forcing his words through the iron grip on his chest and throat, “he’s— in pain, in a lot of pain. I mean — probably more than any human ever was. Hallucinating more and more every day too. And I know— I know you feed on it. It’s—” He licks his lips, lost for more words as the storm trapped inside his ribcage threatens to overwhelm him. But the Nogitsune’s eyes are sharp, sharper than any Dean ever had on him, so he swallows it down and steels his nerves; shoulders and jaw tight with tension. “I want to make a deal. You get to feed on my brother’s pain, all of it, no tricks, no additional torture, no nothing — and we let you go.”
Making those words a threat always seemed way easier and more natural when not under the scrutiny of what’s probably an ancient trickster demon. And the Nogitsune snorts, as if amused by a child’s antics, picking up a piece of inari-whatever-the-name between his chopsticks, all precise and delicate despite the clearly deadly aura.
“I could admire your nerve, but I suppose it might be just human bravado — or plain stupidity,” the spirit muses — and takes a bite all casual, like they’re chatting about the weather at a nice dinner. “What even makes you think I’d take a deal like that? When there’s so much pain and suffering on this piece of rock I could find a meal without even trying? I think you have our situations here confused,” they look up at Dean and this time it does feel like he’s a hairbreadth away from leaving this god-forsaken-earth, “I’m not the one on your mercy. I could leave or decide to slit your throat whenever I’d like to without you even being able to bat your pretty eyelashes at me — and you’d do well to remember that.”
The Nogitsune’s voice stays just as smooth, just as low and cool and seemingly unaffected — but Dean’s skin feels covered in frost and his blood frozen solid. Only when they finally look down the hold around Dean releases and he gulps up air as if he just came up for it after drowning in a freezing river.
“Now, come—” Gesturing to the other chair beside Dean with an aura of not accepting anything else, the Nogitsune reaches for more food, “—sit and tell me your story. Then I will decide if it’s worth my while.”
Dean swallows thickly, lost for words like he rarely is, and considers his options. At first, he thought it’d be better not to reveal this is basically his last hope, their last hope, but now it feels inevitable — if Dean is to tell the whole story.
Sitting down in the chair seems like a defeat of sorts, like putting himself up for easy access, but the Nogitsune looks back at him again when Dean hesitates for too long, their eyes dark and head crooked to the side, daring him to refuse — and so Dean pulls out the chair so he’s at least not trapped under the table and sits down. The spirits lip’s twitch in the corners, an amused smirk playing on their pale face — it strikes Dean just then, how much they seem to resemble a painting, all contrasting pale skin and black framing of hair, deeply purplish shadow around their dark eyes; not quite like make-up or natural bruises, but more like the true nature showing through a human disguise. Sam could probably point out what style or era of art Dean’s thinking about, but—
His heart constricts and Dean needs to take a breath to even think about starting the story — the Nogitsune, though, gives him a curious look and speaks before he can:
“You carry around so much pain yourself,” they muse, words drawn-out, drawled in such a specific, smooth tone despite the edge of a growl trapped underneath that it makes all of Dean’s hair stand on end. They meet his eyes, and their lips curve into a smirk again, slow and deliberate. “I could feel it, you know, even before I decided to answer. Aaall that delicious, delicious pain — so repressed, years of it, that you try to hide behind the veil of anger and toughness. Bottled down and boiling over — how much of it spilled out to hurt your precious one, I wonder...”
“This is not about me,” Dean spits out as soon as he’s able to interject, trying very hard to not let the spirit’s words affect him — but they do bring back ghosts of memories, times when Sam flinched away from him, when that awful, awful look crossed his face, when his Sammy thought he couldn’t trust him, it’s—
The Nogitsune’s smirk curls higher in one corner, their nose flaring out, just the tiniest bit, in a deeper breath. Dean notices, somehow, and pulls back from the trip back memory lane, tensing all over and ready to flee — or reach for his gun.
“What did you just do?”
Their eyebrows twitch up at Dean’s question, words pushed through clenched teeth, and the frankly infuriating smirk doesn’t even waver, so fucking amused.
“Me?” The Nogitsune straight-up chuckles before going back to the food as if nothing at all happened. “I think we both know you’re perfectly capable of torturing yourself on your own. And if those were my doing—” They lift up a piece of sushi and give him a look that all but freezes his heart still. “—you’d never realize you're here and not back there.”
Dean refuses to believe it, full stop — he hadn’t broken out of the Djinn’s illusion-world not to recognize when he’s being played — but on the other hand, he’s also never before faced a Nogitsune…
“Great, but this was supposed to be about Sam, not my issues — they’re not the important thing here.”
The Nogitsune chews his food slowly, lips still curled in a small little grin that Dean can’t decide if it’s still amused or if it went mocking already — the sharp, unnaturally focused look in their dark eyes makes it all too hard to tell.
“If you insist,” they allow, extending one hand in a gesture that’s all but dismissive, then make a small sound in the back of their throat. “Pity, though. You wouldn’t make a meal, but… perhaps a snack.” The grin is definitely the shit-eating kind now and Dean scowls, but before he can address it, the Nogitsune tips his chin down and raises one eyebrow, expectant. “Well? What is it about then? Do tell.” It’s not quite a demand, and their tone doesn’t change, but Dean’s instincts pick up on the unspoken warning to not stretch their patience.
Flexing his fingers on the edge of the table, Dean ignores his pounding heart — it’s now or never, isn’t it?
“We’re vessels, me and my brother. For those asshole angels, dunno if you heard about them.” He barely restrains himself from gritting his teeth, white-hot anger flaring against his ribs, but the Nogitsune’s eyes are sharp, seemingly even sharper now, their chin still tipped just slightly down, so Dean pushes on. “I’m Micheal’s, my brother’s that fuckwad’s Lucifer’s. They were really hell-bent on causing the Apocalypse, y’know, but we— but Sam,” his throat closes up, yet Dean doesn’t let himself stop here, not with the new spark in those dark, dark eyes, “Sam stopped it. And got ‘em all dragged into Lucifer’s cage. The thing is— The thing is Lucifer was already riding him like a marionette and he—”
That’s when his voice truly gives up on Dean, but it’s also when the Nogitsune decides to supply:
“And your dearest got locked away with them.” They hum, low in their throat, something very new in their expression, something that makes every instinct in Dean scream to run. Their gaze slips over Dean, taking him in with an aura of distant curiosity, and it makes him want to crawl inside himself or lash out, but it doesn’t last long, thank fuck. Instead of commenting on whatever they saw, the Nogitsune turns to reach for more food. “Who would’ve thought, this might yet get interesting.” Dean’s anger flares, yet again, when the spirit just keeps eating, but the moment their chopsticks are free, they extend their hand in a familiar gesture. “Go on. I’m sure there’s more to the story.”
The look in their eyes is clear — and as much as his blood’s boiling, he’s not stupid enough to throw away this chance, as slim as it might be. So Dean takes a calming breath, relaxes his clenched fingers, and tells the whole story. Or as whole as he dares — skims over the time Sam was without a soul, which the Nogitsune seems intrigued by but doesn’t ask, explains his wild move of making a deal with Death, which makes the spirit lift his eyebrows in surprise but, again, they don’t ask, then finally he comes to the final point. The breaking of Sam’s wall.
Dean falls silent after, so exhausted by just telling it all he barely has the energy to be irritated with the spirit’s nonchalant attitude — posture completely relaxed and eyes half-lidded, the seemingly ever-present ghost of a smirk on their pale lips. The bigger part of the food is gone and Dean got a lot more than enough for one person — guess what they say about a Nogitsune’s hunger being insatiable is actually true, huh.
“A lifetime of pain, you say,” they muse, hands resting on their thigh.
“Of torture, more like,” Dean gritts out; hates how his voice betrays his exhuastion.
The Nogitsune hums noncommittally, still watching him with that unwavering, unnaturally focused gaze, with that curl to one corner of their mouth — as infuriating as it’s unnerving. Then they move to put away the chopsticks.
“I think I need to pay your brother a visit before I decide.”
Dean’s on his feet faster than he can blink, hand at his gun — but not yet drawn. And it’s like a switch has been flipped. The Nogitsune doesn’t move an inch, and yet Dean recognizes the poise of a predator ready to tear his throat out before he could even see it coming.
“No. I summoned you to make a deal, right now, right here,” he grits out, heart pounding and hand sweating on his gun. “How do I know you won’t just go there, torture him until you get your rocks off and leave? I won’t agree to it.”
They cock their head to the side, just slightly, eyes narrowing for a second before they drag their dark gaze over Dean once more. It seems like they’re considering, maybe not even his words but Dean himself.
“Don’t worry, I won’t hurt your precious one more than they’ve already been hurt,” he says, voice so calm and devoid of mockery everything in Dean deflates in surprise. Still—
“I don’t like your wording,” he replies, jaw tight and straining.
The Nogitsune exhales a quick breath, mouth quirking back into a darkly amused little smile.
“You must be very naive to think taking pain is painless.”
Dean swallows around the ball that formed in his throat — it makes some sort of sense, but it doesn’t mean he likes it any more than before.
“But you won’t cause him any more harm — any more pain — than necessary to take it away.” He still doesn’t like his own wording more than the spirit’s, but his unhelpful brain just won’t provide him with anything better.
The Nogitsune tips his chin down, one corner of their lips twitching up.
“You have my word,” they say and even though he shouldn’t, Dean feels something in him uncoil. Now he can only hope—
—and race to reach Sammy like Hell’s chasing him to make sure the trickster will keep it.
#dean winchester#nogitsune#void stiles#supernatural#teen wolf#crossover#sam winchester#supernatural fanfiction#teen wolf fanfiction#Raksh's writing#My writing#just a lil' fun idea I had a while ago lmao#fingers crossed now I'll be able to write the second part sometime soon xD
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