#but nothings going to happen no matter how much i scream on the internet nobody owes me this money and nobody ik HAS that kind of money rn

[captainmalewriter]

Hi, I was in my way from work to home on Friday on Katowice (Poland) underground bus station, when I found Yellow with Green Ring capsule on the pavement. I took it and put into my bag's pocket. I will open it in the evening, when I will have a bit of free time before my computer's monitor. What will happen?

Congratulations, you found my missing yellow with a green ring capsule! Here's what happened when you found it...

You held onto the safety rail as the underground metro barreled down the railroad. As you waited to get home, you felt around your bag where you had stored a yellow prize capsule. You had found it back at the station just sitting around on the pavement. You decided to take it for yourself. You thought about opening it right then and there, but decided to hold off until you got home and open it there. You rubbed your finger against its sleek surface, your finger gliding across like butter due to how smooth it was. 

Open…

Your ears perked up. You thought you heard a whisper but weren’t too sure.

Open the capsule…

You heard it again. It was a scratchy, low-pitched voice. Your eyes darted around the bus car, trying to find whose voice that was, but you couldn’t find anyone suspicious. On top of that, nobody else seemed to notice the strange ominous voice. It was telling you to open the capsule. It was a simple command, and for a moment, you were actually considering listening…

But then the bus conductor announced the next stop, which was also your stop. You shook off the weird feeling, slipped the capsule back into your bag, and went about your way.  You got off the bus and made your way back home. You made yourself comfortable, then sat at your computer desk with the prize capsule in hand. No matter how much you looked at it, it seemed like an ordinary capsule! Yet at the same time, something felt undeniably wrong about it. You noticed it ever since you first laid eyes on it. It was as if the capsule itself possessed some sort of malicious energy…

You found a label tag on it. Before opening it, you decided to do some internet searching first just to make sure it was safe.

Open the capsule…!

You heard the sinister voice again. It sent a shiver down your spine, but forced yourself to ignore it. 

OPEN! THE! CAPSULE! OPEN IT NOW!!

The voice got louder and louder. It was as if the voice was inside your head… It was driving you crazy! You couldn’t take it anymore! In frustration, you slammed your hands on your keyboard, grabbed the capsule, and tore it open without a second thought. You were breathing heavily as you held the now broken capsule in your hand. However, there was nothing resembling a toy or a prize in your hand. All you were holding were plastic shards.

“Man! This is bullshit!” You shouted as you threw the broken capsule across the room. You didn’t care that you’d have to clean it later; you were just so mad that the same thing that was driving you insane turned out to be nothing but a piece of cheap plastic. 

You huffed out a breath as you calmed down. Now that that mystery was over, you decided to spend the rest of the night playing video games on your PC. You took out a game controller out of your desk drawer as your favorite MMO loaded up. You then looked up and gasped loudly as you saw a horrific sight on your computer screen: the skeleton of your face. 

“What the fuck!! Who the fuck is that!?”

You screamed out in terror as you made eye contact with the face on the screen. Your reflection was nowhere to be seen on the computer monitor. Instead, it was the reflection of some random stranger with an exposed, skeletal face. You felt unnerved as you looked at him… Every movement you made, the man copied you, acting as if he was your reflection.

“Wh-what’s going on…” you shuddered. “That’s not my face, who are you!!”

You shouted at the skeleton man. He only grinned in response, and when he did, the same cocky grin began to form on your face. You tried to stop it but it was no use, you were forced to smirk against your will.

“Heh, I’m the soul you just freed from that tiny prison,” the man said. Hearing his voice, it hit you that he was the one you were hearing earlier! But even more unsettling, your mouth began moving to match whatever he was saying. Now you were his reflection.

He noticed the uneasiness in your eyes and chuckled. He was clearly enjoying how much power he had over your body despite being just a face on a computer screen.

“You asked me who I am,” he started. “Well, to be honest, it doesn’t matter who I am. I’m about to be you.”

The man leaned in closer to the screen. When he made contact against the edge, he began to bleed out of your computer monitor as he physically manifested right in front of you. You opened your mouth to scream, not knowing how big of a mistake that was. 

As your mouth hung open, the soul made a beeline straight for your mouth. You gasped as you felt your entire body getting filled with a ghostly presence. The soul didn’t hold back in taking your body over as its new vessel. It entered you through the mouth and nose, causing you to float up slightly as you got possessed. With one final gulp, you swallowed the last few ounces of his soul into your body. Warm sensations flooded your senses as you felt your consciousness fade away into the background of your mind, leaving the driver’s seat open for the soul to take over. You knew you were finished when you felt an unwanted smile creep up on your face again; the same arrogant grin you saw on the computer screen a few minutes ago. With the possession complete, he was in total control and you were nothing more than a passenger inside your own body. 

You watched from the crevices of your mind as your body began to move around on its own. Despite having no control anymore, you could still feel as the soul possessing you touched and rubbed your now shared body. The hair on your arms felt familiar yet foreign due to the ghostly presence controlling you. 

Fuck yeah! It feels so good to have flesh again!

You could hear the soul’s inner thoughts as he flexed your arms. You then noticed a feeling of disappointment growing. 

Not good enough. If this is going to be my new body, then it’s gotta be just right! Don’t you agree bro!?

Under the soul’s command, you began flexing your entire body as hard as you possibly could. As you did so, your muscles began exploding with newfound strength and power. Your body was quickly becoming stronger! Your body didn’t take on any extra muscle mass, but the mass you already had rapidly became toned and well-defined. The hair on your head grew out until you had a flowing mane and stubble a man could wear with pride. Even your cock grew until you had an obscene bulge in your pants, a testament of the heavy hitter your body now possessed between your legs. The soul that had possessed you had completely remade you in its image! 

And although you were powerless to do anything, you soon learned to love the new arrangement you found yourself in. Everything the soul did in your body was way more fun than if you did it by yourself, including and especially sex. You were having the time of your life being nothing more than a vessel for a soul to have fun with. Soon enough, you were sporting the same arrogance the soul had. Perhaps the soul had even managed to transform your soul during the possession? Who’s to say! But who cares, all that matters now is whatever adventure the soul possessing you was about to embark on next.

Hope you enjoy the new body prize you won from finding my lost capsule!

#male possession #male body possession #male takeover #male transformation #ghost possession #demonic possession #toy capsule stories

[ratmonky]

Inorganic Human

Word Count: 3.1K

Warnings: noncon, guided & forced masturbation, home invasion, stalking

AO3 Link

Another fic I wrote for my besto frendo @anti-interesting​ who finally watched the show after me talking about it for hours lol

You were tucked under your sheets with your laptop on your bed and catching up with your favorite show when the screen abruptly turned black.

“Ahh,” you groaned audibly, having to move from your cozy position took too much effort and it was way too annoying if you had to be honest.

As you were about to press the power button to see if you had accidentally turned your laptop off like the many other times you had in the past, the screen flashed white before returning to normal.

“Can you hear me?”

You stared blankly at the screen. It wasn’t your show that was playing. It was your classmate from school. Had you opened your social media account by accident?

With a small scoff, you tried clicking away from the video. However, your laptop must have frozen because you couldn’t turn it off no matter what.

“Can you hear me?” he asked again, looking right at you.

Chills went down your spine and you looked around you as if someone else was in the room. The feeling of discomfort was settling in, enough to make you feel self-conscious and pull up the sheets to cover yourself.

It was getting creepy, he was still staring at you.

Reaching your hand forward, you pressed the power button to turn off the laptop and somehow it didn’t turn off.

“(name), I asked if you could hear me.”

Your muscles tensed, you pulled the sheets further up to cover your chest. “Shishigami? Um, i-is this a video call?”

He hummed softly. “I guess so.”

How could it be a call when you had never given him your email or phone number?

It was silent for a moment. You were trying to come up with a polite way to tell him to leave the call since you couldn’t end it yourself but he spoke again.

“You’re coming to school tomorrow, right?”

Dumbfounded, you nodded slowly.

After that, he smiled softly and the screen flickered a couple of times until your show continued playing again.

~~~~

As if last night hadn’t happened, Hiro was on the other side of the classroom talking to his friend, Ando.

He hadn’t even spared you a passing glance the whole day. You started to believe you dreamed of the entire thing.

Yeah, that had to be it.

~~~

At home, you put a tape over your laptop camera in case a glitch like that happened again and turned it on. Letting your show play in the background, you took off your clothes to get in your pajamas.

“Could you please not touch him so casually, you homewreckers?!” The annoying main character was exaggerating his reactions and it made you giggle. While you were taking off your bra, he continued his banter. “Megumi has violin classes with-”

The audio stopped suddenly and you turned around to check if your internet was messing up again but you found yourself looking at Hiro.

You covered your bare chest with a shirt you were just about to put on and gasped sharply. Wait, he couldn’t see you, you had put that tape on your camera and-

“Sorry for the bad timing. I’ll return after you’ve dressed up.”

With that, he was gone. Your show was back on the screen but you were too terrified and confused to be able to laugh at the funny reveal at the end.

You walked up to your laptop with shaking limbs and slammed your laptop closed.

~~~

The next time you opened your laptop was in the morning, you checked from the camera app if you could see anything through the tape but no, it was pitch black.

Then… how?

Were you imagining all of this?

You had to be only tired or maybe the university entrance exams were starting to get to you. The stress could have been causing you to imagine stupid stuff like these. Right?

~~~

“Hey,” you said to get his attention for the third time but he still had his face pressed against his desk.

He wasn’t asleep, you knew that.

“Ando.” You put your hand on his shoulder and he finally lifted his head from the desk to stare at you.

He looked around himself as if to see if you were actually talking to him.

“Could we talk for a second?” you asked, hoping that you could take him somewhere else before Hiro returned to the classroom.

“Um, yeah, sure, why not?” He blushed, looking around the classroom one last time to see if this was a prank before following you out.

You took him up to the roof.

“W-what did you wanna talk about?” Ando nervously asked while rubbing the back of his neck.

Maybe this was a bad idea. You were being accusatory and this guy had nothing to do with any of this. He didn’t need to be caught up in between with whatever was going on.

“Do you know if Shishigami is messing with me?”

“Huh?” He looked confused, he scratched his cheek and gave himself a moment to think. “I… I don’t think so… Hiro’s not the type to prank others... I mean, what made you think that he was messing with you?”

“It’s just…” It had to be your imagination, if you spoke about this right now Ando would most likely ask his friend about it too. There was no need to make it a bigger deal than it already was. “Nevermind.”

~~~

You didn’t turn on your computer that night and decided to sleep early. You weren’t going to school tomorrow either because you certainly needed to rest and collect your thoughts. Thankfully your family was away on an overnight trip, meaning that nobody could scold you for skipping school.

It was going to be a restful day for you!

However, as soon as you put your head on the pillow, your phone’s screen on the nightstand lit up. Weird, you had your phone on ‘do not disturb’ all the time, it didn’t show any notifications unless you picked it up.

Too tired to check what was up, you turned to the other side to avoid the bright light.

“(name), you never sleep at this hour. Something wrong?”

Your eyes snapped open.

That was Shishigami.

“Pick up the phone.”

You didn’t answer him as your limbs shook uncontrollably in terror. This couldn’t be a nightmare, it felt too real.

“Pick up the phone or I’ll have to come to your house.”

Cold sweat trickled down your back but you still couldn’t move. Your entire body had turned to stone. He didn’t know where you live, right? Even if he did, you weren’t going to open the door.

Wait, wait, wait…

This all was a prank.

The muscles on your limbs eased and your shoulders relaxed. He was pranking you! Haha, yeah this was a prank. But then how was he able to talk to you without you having to answer his call?

“See you,” he sighed and a static sound filled your ears.

You jolted up from your bed to check your phone. The screen was normal. Okay, calm down. This was a prank, he wouldn’t come to your house.

The sound of knocking filled your room. Your shoulders tensed again and you turned your head towards the bedroom door. That… knocking wasn’t coming from your apartment door.

Knock.

Your blood ran cold as you glanced over your shoulder and found yourself staring at a shadow behind the curtains, he was standing on your balcony. He was trying to look inside through the curtains, moving around to find a crack that could help him see who was inside.

H-how did he get there? You lived high up from the ground, there was no way he climbed up there… More importantly, how did he know where you lived?

He couldn’t come in. He can’t come in. The door is locked, he can’t come in.

The door was locked. You knew that yet the fear had settled in. You were being invaded, it already felt like he was inside.

You turned around your heels to face the balcony as you stepped back towards your bedroom door. The balcony door was locked so there was no way he could get in and all you needed to do was stay back-

The balcony door unlocked itself.

Your mouth popped open in shock and you gasped sharply.

Hiro pulled the curtains away as he stepped a foot inside your room. He stared at you with a blank stare, “Ah, so you were awake! Why didn’t you answer your phone?”

You couldn’t move, fear had paralyzed you.

Why are you here?

How did you get inside?

Get out!

Your mouth wouldn’t move either but your teeth still chattered. This didn’t feel like a prank anymore.

“Why don’t you sit down,” he said, turning on the lamp on your nightstand and gesturing towards your bed. His other hand was pointing at you with his forefinger and his thumb was extended out. “Don’t yell, scream or cry. This is a real gun.”

Prank.

It was a prank.

You desperately wanted to believe it.

“Bang!” he yelled, his hand recoiled like a gun. Immediately, you felt a rush of wind right beside your ear and when you looked behind you, there was a hole in your bedroom door.

Did he really do that with his… finger?

You were confused, in disbelief.

“W-what do you w-want?” Your teeth were still chattering, you put your tongue in between them to stop it but the action only resulted in you biting your tongue.

“I just need your help.” He gestured towards your bed once again. “Sit down.”

This time, you forced yourself to move.

As soon as you sat on your bed, Hiro pulled the chair you had beside your desk and placed it in front of you. He gracefully sat down, still pointing his finger gun at you. “I’m not a human anymore.”

You didn’t say anything.

He sighed and a click sound filled your ears.

His head popped open like a flower. All you could see was metal, it was a machine. A robot. This thing wasn’t your classmate. You clapped a hand over your mouth to keep your voice down and finally started to realize the horror of the situation.

The open metal pieces closed up seamlessly to form Hiro’s face once again.

It was silent, you were unsure of how to react or what to say. You weren’t even sure if you were going to live.

“What makes humans human?” Hiro asked, pointing his finger up to your head. He was expecting an answer.

“I don’t know.”

“Feelings of guilt,” he said, his face was inanimate. “Only humans feel remorse and empathy. When you kill something you must feel some sort of guilt. That’s what makes you a human. Most humans cannot take a life without feeling guilty.”

Ah, you started to get the picture.

“Are you going to kill me?” The question you never thought you would ask anyone at any point in your life left your lips and you felt tears streaming down your face.

His lips slowly curled up to a smile. “I already tried killing others, it didn’t work.”

Your chest clenched abruptly at the revelation. “T-then why?”

“There’s one another feeling only humans can feel.” He reached towards your face and wiped your tears, humming softly. “It’s lust. Animals choose partners by instinct, humans choose theirs by attraction.”

“I don’t understand,” you sobbed. “Why me?”

Hiro slowly carded his fingers through your hair, petting you like you were a scared animal he was trying to calm down. “I always thought you were pretty. I used to jerk off to your pictures on your account every day.  I wanna see if I still feel the same way in this body.”

You didn’t get to react to his sickening words as he pressed his forefinger on your breast, still in a finger gun position. He smiled while moving his finger on the supple flesh. He then placed the rest of his fingers on your breast to grope it fully. “I kinda feel it.”

Speechless, you only stared at him as he sat back, prying his hands off of you reluctantly.

“I need you to take off your shirt for me.”

When you didn’t move, he lifted his hand back up, threatening to shoot you.

Grabbing the hem of your shirt with shaking hands, you pulled it over your chest and above your head before putting it on your lap. You clutched on the shirt and stared at your hands. Tears blurred your vision.

“I’m feeling it a little bit right now,” he said, voice filled with faint joy.

A moment passed before he spoke again.

“Take off everything.”

You let out a choked sob and shook your head.

“You don’t need to die, (name). All I’m asking for is your help.” He was looking at you with a sinister expression on his face, his finger pointed right between your brows, it didn’t even waver.

You didn’t want to die. Not yet. Not when you were half-naked like this and in your room.

With a rapid nod, you hooked your thumbs under the waistband of your pajama pants and pulled them down, lifting your hips from the bed to slide the pants down your thighs.

He watched you intently, without blinking once.

“Spread your legs.”

Complying his order, you spread your legs involuntarily. A blush tinted your cheeks from embarrassment.

Hiro hummed in delight, drinking up your naked form.

“Can you put a finger inside?”

You had to remind yourself that you were only doing this because you didn’t want to die.

Hesitantly, you brought your hand up to insert two fingers inside of your pussy. A whimper left your lips when you saw the way he was watching you.

“Move them.”

The shame you felt as you pulled your fingers out to push them back in was indescribable. His eyes were focused on your pussy and your digits.

“It’s happening,” he whispered to himself in disbelief.  “I feel alive.”

Whether it be your crush watching you masturbate so carefully or the unsettling threat of being in the claws of death, your walls were pulsating around your fingers, begging to be filled and stretched. You needed something bigger but you bit your lip, holding back your filthy thoughts before your mind could wander off. Instead, you dipped one more finger inside your cunt to satisfy yourself.

Yet, your eyes were on Hiro as you were fingering yourself.

“I’m still human,” he said, eyes softening in relief. He smiled, the soft expression on his face made your walls clench around your digits. “Thank you, (name).”

Lust filled all of your senses at the way he said it.

The pads of your fingers rubbed on your sensitive spot inside of you as you brought your other hand up too. Using your free hand, you drew tight circles over your sensitive nub.

Hiro put his hand down and leaned forward on the chair to watch you closely.

Your fingers started moving in and out hastily when you realized he was giving you all of his attention. The sloppy sounds of your juices gushing out from your pussy with each thrust of your digits filled your room.

He opened his mouth to say something but he was too hypnotized by the way your hips were moving towards your fingers. You were grinding your pussy against your own fingers like some animal in heat.

Humans could reproduce.

Hiro knew he could never reproduce in this body. Not anymore. Many humans couldn’t reproduce, it didn’t mean he wasn’t any less human. He knew that but he couldn’t stop his hand from reaching to grab your wrist.

He stopped you from moving your fingers any longer, he pulled them out, and before you could whine at the emptiness, he inserted his own digits inside.

“H-Hiro.” Gasping, you looked at him with needy eyes, begging him to move.

Hiro pressed his lips together and scissored his fingers in and out of you experimentally. You moaned, throwing your head back shamelessly. The reaction he got from you was enough to encourage him to add another digit and started to fingerfuck you.

Your hips bucked wildly against his hand, you were already close, and having Hiro’s long fingers inside you was too much. They could reach so much deeper than your own fingers and hit the sweetest spots you could only wish you could with your own digits.

So, this was what made humans human. The attraction and lust towards one another. The feeling of guilt had never sprouted in Hiro, not even once. Not even when he was a child. Perhaps, that was the reason why he felt so much more alive than he ever did in his life.

His mind was going crazy, the consciousness he had was getting fuzzy as he used the entire strength of his arm to fingerfuck you.

Your walls pulsated around his digits, clamping on them and sucking him in deeper.

Oh, so needy.

Hiro leaned further down to close the distance between his face and crotch. Your legs shook in anticipation until he lolled out his tongue to take an inexperienced lick against your cunt.

It made you moan audibly.

Wanting to hear your cute moans again, Hiro continued lapping at your pussy and moving his fingers inside of you. Your juices he managed to slurp were… sweet. He could taste them, unlike any other things he had tried eating and drinking, he could actually taste your nectar. You tasted like candy to him and oh, you had no idea how much he had missed the delicious aroma of candy.

While he was slurping your juices, you were clutching on your bedsheets and your toes were curling in pleasure. You arched your back before placing your hands on his head, fingers carding through his silky hair.

Soon enough you were on the edge, the white pleasure building in your gut was spreading all over your body. Legs shaking violently, you pulled Hiro’s hair and moaned as the euphoria washed over you before your body went completely limp on your bed.

Hiro stood above you as you were trying to catch your breath on the mattress, he marveled at the sight of your afterglow.

He was breathing hard, inhaling as if he actually needed the air to survive. Was this excitement? Satisfaction? Salvation?

He was feeling overwhelmed with feelings of passion. He desperately wanted to see you like that again.

Oh.

That was it.

At that moment, he felt more alive than he ever did before. He knew he was alive.

#shishigami hiro x reader #shishigami x reader #I'M CRYING SOOOOO EMBARRASSING #ANYWAYY #literally no one has ever written a fanfic about him wtf???? #gantz iis one of my fav mangas so i ate this manga up when it came out jhjbgfhjj #hiro looking like the gantz mc is just *chef's kiss* #anyway enough fangirling #pleaseee leave a comment telling me how bad i am at writing endings #lolol #sometimes fics i write for friends do get posted huh? #hdufybghjte i hope my friend'll like it though!!!! it's a gift to her cuz i wanted to cheer her up!!! #lmao anywayyy who reads these tags anyway??? #i'm out bicthes *finger guns* #lol get it? cuz he BANG!

[fnf-amateur-writing]

Hello! Can I request a scenario where l Updike with an s/o who got kidnapped and now he has to go save them- if u feel uncomfortable with that you can just do general relationship headcanons for him!

Hey there, Anon. I'm cool with your prompt, no worries!

TW: Kidnapping and violence.

Updike finding out S/O was kidnapped

Everything was rather dull at work. Sure, dealing with anomalies can be cool, but it wears on Updike after a while. Everyday was starting to become nothing more than paperwork, keeping tabs on the freely roaming safer anomalies, and trying and failing to kill Whitmore. Fortunately, his lunch break finally started after a long and boring morning.

Once he readjusted his tie and tucked away his trusty gun in his pocket, he went on a near daily walk to a local cafe. To be honest, it wasn't all that boring, since he now got to be with you during his lunch breaks. About a month ago, you two found out that you took your breaks at the same time. The cafe was also conveniently in between your workplaces, allowing you to walk an equal distance.

Without any incidents or that pestering metal head, Updike made his last turn, with the cafe now being just two buildings down. Strangely, the police were also two buildings down, talking to an employee that Updike recognised in front of the prematurely closed cafe. Avoiding involvement, Updike quickly turned around, waiting until he out of sight of them before checking his phone. You were always there first, so you probably texted him a heads up, but his phone showed no new messages.

It was pretty annoying, but no big deal. He'll just go somewhere else, and maybe you'll be there too if he's lucky.

~~~

The phone next to him rings, whilst Updike sat alone in his office, showing the front desk receptionist's name. That was rather unusual; that number almost never calls him directly, so it was probably important enough to be an exception. "Updike speaking," he spoke in his monotone voice, which was in a tone that easily showed how he says that a dozen times a day.

"Mr. Updike, the police are requesting your presence outside."

Okay, now that was very unusual. Not that the police are here, they show up all the time whenever a case involves an anomaly. But for them to make him go outside, when they usually go up to see him or a collegue, was odd. And he had a clean record too, so it's not like they were going to arrest him.

"I'll be right there," he said. He felt somewhat stressed from the sudden request, so he went a faster pace to the lift--to which he almost pressed the wrong button. He and a cop quickly made eye contact the moment the lift opened, and he followed the man as he beckoned him outside.

"Now, I know you're busy, so I'll get right to the point," the officer says, pulling a phone from his pocket. "Do you recognise this phone and the owner of it?" Updike wish he could say no, but he couldn't; it was clearly your phone, except it now has a large crack on the screen. "Yes, it belongs to my partner. Their name is (Y/N) (L/N)." As clear as he made those sentences, his throat was sore from the dread.

"Sir, are you aware that they've been kidnapped."

... No.

~~~

Looking back at it, he wasn't sure how he kept calm the whole time as the police explained what had happened. Some man had taken you right in front of the cafe. It happened so quickly, that the witnesses didn't seem to notice anything wrong until it was too late. They contacted him when told by employees that he always sat at the same table as you.

As he rushed home, he didn't quite know what he felt. It was a mixture of sadness, anger, stress, and whatever the hell else that couldn't be named that made his hair grey. But he wasn't going home just to wait in misery until the police did something; he was going to look for some clues, as recommended by the authorities. He wasn't aware of any troubles you may have wih your family and friends, but he was informed that most kidnappings are done by people the victim knows, so he had to snoop around your stuff to see if he could find anything to report.

However, he almost slammed himself into his own front door when something else caught his attention: a plain white envelope taped to the door. There was no markings or writing on the outside, Updike noted as he took it for inspection, but he could tell it had a letter in it. Surely, it couldn't be a coincidence this showed up the same day you were taken.

As he went inside, closing the door behind him, he didn't take another step away from the door before tearing the letter open. Within the envelope was a typed letter, which had a clear message despite never mentioning you or Updike by name. Also made clear was that this was nobody you knew, nor was it an anomaly trying to spite him, but rather a particularly greedy criminal who took notice of who you were with.

The letter demanded an absurd amount of cash to be hand delivered, an amount that clearly overestimated even his own wealth. And if he brought anyone with him or brought a weapon, then you would be shot on the spot. Finally, he had until midnight to do so, too, adding onto the stress.

The stress started to become a bit much as his hair grew darker. He had no way of knowing whether the bastard was bluffing, but it wasn't worth trying to find out. But still, there didn't seem to be a good way out anyways. It felt like he was about to snap, feeling some sparks from his head and... a spark of an idea.

He went up a flight of stairs to a closet within the hallway. There wasn't anything remarkable about it's contents, but he took interest on one side, where some suitcases of his were stored. Only one of these was useful right now: a sleek metal suitcase he can't remember even using, but he remembered it being there. After grabbing the case, he ran back downstairs while neglecting to close the closet door.

Now, he wasn't going to place any money in it. No, nothing would be in it. But he had an idea, because maybe the guy didn't quite know who they decided to mess with.

~~~

Updike parked his car on the side of the road, getting out in the abandoned yet familiar area. It was a small part of the outskirts of the city that eventually lost it's population and was left to rot, which amazed him that it hasn't been torn down yet. The only people who regularly come here are the homeless and obnoxious teenagers with cameras who pretend that one of the buildings are haunted for internet clout. However, he does remember coming here too a long time ago to hunt down Whitmore a couple times.

The meeting place was a short walk away, having used to be a local library. The evening sky was getting darker by the minute, and the sun was near set behind Updike as he looked into the old library. As dark as it was, a light was barely visible from the entrance, partially blocked by empty bookshelves. With the case in hand, he walked through the shattered glass double doors and in between two of the shelves.

"I'm here."

The light across the library shifted and footsteps approached. The man looked as dodgy as he expected, except with a bit of a 1950's greaser look to him, and the gun the man held never pointed to anything but Updike. He placed the lantern onto the shelve and approached, saying "hand it over." Definitely not a negotiating type.

Time passed too slow, yet also too fast. Though he normally used his head, Updike had to channel what was within him elsewhere or else the man would shoot him seeing the thunder from his head. Hard, sure, but dong it for you was a pretty good motivator.

In three, two...

As soon as both hands were on the case's handle, Updike managed to give a hard zap through his hand. The case's material made it guaranteed it would shock him, and shock him very badly. He shouted at the sensation comparable to that of a taser, unable to pull the trigger before collapsing. Updike wasn't sure if he was conscious, but it didn't matter since he was already slamming the case into his face. Giving a man a free nose bleed such as this one was usually seen as too barbaric for Updike's taste, but damn it was satisfying.

He took the man's gun and briefly searched his pockets for anything else he might use as a weapon. He pocketed the lighter for the box of cigarettes he carried, since he might wake up and pull a fast one by burning the place down. And then there was a key, and not a usual key one would think of. In fact, Updike knew from the shape that it was meant to unlock a pair of handcuffs. It may be best if he took that as well.

"(Y/N)!" he called out, "are you there?" He made his way to the back, peeking into some rooms as he passed. He heard some sounds coming from nearby, causing him to peek through the old bathroom door. There you were, gagged with a cloth and both hands cuffed to a pipe beneath a sink. You were trying to say something, so he quickly worked the cloth off your mouth and let it fall under your chin. Upon closer inspection he now saw how disheveled you looked and that one of your eyes was black and swollen.

"G-GABRIEL!" you finally managed to scream before coughing from finally having your mouth to breathe through. "I thought you- I thought..." He hushed you before using the key he found on your cuffs, allowing you give him a much needed embrace. "Shhh, it's okay," he said as you cried, "I've dealt with him."

"Now," he picks you off the ground and carries you away from the dreaded building, "let's go. I have an interesting story for the cops."

Now for a surprise bonus ;)

Aftermath headcanons:

Unsurprisingly, you both took off work for a while.

Regardless of how well you can handle trauma, Updike WILL take you to a therapist. He's already got one booked, so you don't have a choice really.

For the first time in the relationship, Updike has been the one to initiate cuddles. He's also just as paranoid as you are, and has become somewhat clingy as a result.

When it was nearing the day you two would return to work, you discussed plans on preventing another incident. Though it may seem a bit far, you agreed on wearing a small tracking device clipped to your clothes until the fear wore off.

The forced therapy sessions did come with benefits for the future. When you eventually had to testify against your kidnapper in court, you felt more confident in your words and managed to tell them everything without a breakdown.

The man didn't stand a chance and earned himself several years in prison.

Finally, once you felt everything was behind you, you walked together to the cafe again. It was a nice cafe and it would be a shame if they stopped visiting.

Some of the regulars and employees recognised you two, and welcomed you back. And as you two sat in your usual spots with drinks on the house, you could finally say it was a pretty nice day with nothing to worry about.

#fnf x reader #fnf imagines #updike x reader #gabriel updike #fnf updike

[missmentelle]

How do I know if I'm being gaslit? What does that mean?

If you are experiencing “gaslighting”, it means that someone is intentionally trying to make you feel like you are irrational and insane. They will try to convince you that you can’t trust your own judgement, even about things that you experienced firsthand. The internet tends to use the term ‘gaslighting’ to describe any kind of lying or arguing, but it’s a lot more complicated than that - when you are being gaslit, it means someone is going out of their way to make you feel like you’re the crazy one who causes all the conflict in the relationship when in reality, it’s the other way around. A person who lies about liking your new haircut or starts an argument with you about whose turn it is to do the dishes is probably not gaslighting you - gaslighting is intentional, repeated, and specifically aimed at undermining your sanity and emotional stability. It is a pattern of abuse, and by definition, it can be very difficult to recognize and escape from. 

Examples of gaslighting include things like:

Insisting that things did not happen the way you remember them, even if you have proof. Maybe you and the abuser had an argument over WhatsApp yesterday, and they called you a slur. You definitely remember that this happened, because it was devastating for you, and you took screenshots in case they deleted the message. But when you confront the other person about what they said, they flat-out deny that it ever happened - in fact, they have no idea where this is coming from, and they feel insulted that you would accuse them of such a horrible thing. They didn’t do that. They’ve never done that. In fact, there was no argument. You made the whole thing up in your head. It doesn’t matter that you have screenshots - they don’t want to see them, because they know that you are totally misunderstanding what’s in them, just like you always do. When you’re being gaslit, the gaslighter doesn’t care about reality. They will flat-out deny what happened and create a new version of events that puts them in a better light, and they’ll insist that you are the one with the faulty memory for not remembering it that way. Even with evidence right in front of their faces, they’ll stick to their guns and say that you are completely inventing things. 

Constantly insisting that you overreact and blow things out of proportion. Maybe you saw a notification on your partner’s phone the other day, and you realize that they’ve been texting other people on a dating app. You are obviously very upset about the situation, and you aren’t sure if you even want to stay in the relationship. But instead of apologizing, your partner begins to get angry with you for how upset you are - they insist that you are blowing this completely out of proportion, that you’re being a huge drama queen, that you’re being manipulative and attention-seeking, and that it’s completely insane for you to be upset. Any time you are upset with the other person for genuinely hurting or harming you in some way, they flip everything around - all of a sudden, the conversation becomes focused on how unstable and dramatic you are, and the abuser’s wrongdoing is totally forgotten. The abuser paints a consistent picture of you as someone who freaks out over absolutely nothing and completely overreacts. 

Playing up your existing mental illness or insisting that you are mentally ill. Your abuser sees signs of mental illness in everything you do. If you have a history of mental illness, they’ll insist that it’s coming back - if you don’t have a history of mental illness, they’ll invent a new mental illness for you out of whole cloth. Did you get upset because your partner screamed at you? That’s not normal, you’re having huge mood swings and you’re definitely bipolar. Did you stick up for yourself when your partner was trying to control you? That’s definitely not normal, you’re acting just like this person they knew who had severe BPD. Whenever you are upset about the way you’re being treated or just refusing to be controlled, your abuser will play the mental illness card - suddenly, they are the hard-worn, loving caretaker and you are the very sick person who refuses to let them help you. Sometimes, when you are getting especially angry about your partner’s mistreatment, they may flip a switch and go from yelling at you to acting like your caretaker in an instant - they’ll start pleading with you to get help, offering to drive you to the hospital, and begging you to understand that you aren’t well and that they’re just so worried about you. The point, of course, is to completely undermine you as a person; they want you to believe that you are seriously mentally ill and incapable of understanding what’s real and what isn’t. 

Positioning themselves as the innocent “victim” in the relationship, even when they are the one mistreating you. To an outside observer, you are the one constantly being terrorized by someone who criticizes and controls you. But your gaslighter doesn’t want you to see it that way - according to them, they are the innocent victim who has to tiptoe around your constant unpredictable mood swings. They’ll claim that they try so hard to help you and avoid setting you off, but you’re just so unreasonable - they may even claim that you are the one abusing them. Any time you fight back, stand up for yourself or have a negative reaction to their abuse, they will find a way to frame things so that your response is the real issue, and not the abuse that provoked it. If they pinned you against a wall and you pushed them off you to get away, they will flip the narrative on you - they’ll swear up and down that they were just gently trying to keep you from hurting yourself when you violently attacked them. Somehow, every confrontation you have about your partner’s bad behaviour turns into you apologizing and feeling bad, even when you went into the conversation being pretty sure that you did nothing wrong. 

Intentionally turning friends and loved ones against you. A gaslighter will sometimes try to recruit your friends and family to “their” side, turning them against you. They will tell your loved ones all about your supposed mood swings, “mental health issues” and how difficult you are being, in an effort to win sympathy and destroy your credibility. The idea is that when you turn to your friends to say “my partner freaked out on me over something small last night”, they’ll respond with “mmmm, your partner already told us this story and they gave a very different version of what happened. It sounds like you’re leaving a lot out to make yourself sound better. Your partner says you’ve been acting weird lately, what’s going on with you?” It’s much easier to warp someone’s perception of reality if you can convince their friends and family to reinforce the fake reality that you’ve created. 

Dramatically misrepresenting your motives. A gaslighter will find ways to “prove” that you’re the kind of person they say you are, regardless of what you do. Even if you do something nice for them, they can find ways to twist things to suit their narrative. Did you buy them an expensive birthday present because you care about them? You’re clearly being manipulative and trying to bribe them somehow. Did you clean the whole house for them because you wanted them to be able to enjoy coming home to a clean living space? Nonsense, this was clearly you being passive-aggressive and trying to shame them for not being as clean as you. Your actions end up not mattering - no matter how hard you to try to prove that you aren’t the difficult, terrible person that your gaslighter says you are, they will always find ways to misrepresent your motives and lie about your intentions so they can turn your innocent behaviour into whatever they want it to be. 

Being gaslighted is an immensely stressful experience - it’s designed to make you feel crazy, and if you’re subjected to it for a long time, that’s exactly what will happen. It’s unbelievably stressful to be in a position where you feel like you cannot trust your own mind or make rational decisions. And when that stress inevitably starts to affect your mental health, that becomes further evidence that your abuser is correct and that you’re the crazy one. It can be extraordinarily difficult for a victim of long-term gaslighting to escape from their situation, because they genuinely start to believe that they are the problem in the relationship and that they’re lucky anyone will put up with them. 

If you suspect you are being gaslit, there are some things you can do to recognize the issue and break free from it:

Keep meticulous records. Write down the details of conversations and arguments as soon as they happen. Record fights with the audio recorder on your phone. Take and save screenshots of important conversations. Save voicemails. Keep a diary with dates and times of events. Nobody has perfect recall, but if your partner’s version of events consistently doesn’t match your hard evidence in a major way, that’s a pretty good sign that they are twisting the truth to suit their needs.

Talk to a neutral third party. Talk to someone outside the relationship that your partner doesn’t have access to - this could be a friend, a coworker, a neighbour, anyone that you feel you can trust. Turn to an internet group or forum if you have to. Show them the evidence you’ve collected or talk to them about what’s happening, and get a neutral perspective. People who have not been exposed to your gaslighter’s charms will be able to tell you pretty quickly that your situation is not normal. 

Think about your past relationships. Have any of your past relationships followed the same patterns as your current one? Has anyone in your past made similar complaints about you? If your last relationship didn’t have these kinds of issues, there’s a good chance that the new person in your life is the problem - not you.

Trust your gut. If you get the sense that something isn’t quite right, don’t ignore those feelings. Remember, you don’t actually have to be certain that you’re being gaslighted to justify leaving the relationship - if your relationship frequently causes you stress and anxiety or makes you feel like you can’t be yourself, something is seriously wrong and it may be time to go.

It’s also a good idea to talk to a mental health professional or a domestic abuse expert if you suspect you are being gaslighted - they are experts at helping your recognize it and come up with strategies to have healthier relationships in the future.

Hope this answers your question!

MM

#Anonymous

[amazingphanisnotonfire-imagines]

Cheryl//this is me trying

Request: Can I request a season 1 cheryl x reader. Cheryl always protects reader from people and r is shy but falls in love with the redhead and some who’s accidentally tells her while she’s having a bad day but cheryl is quick to reassure her then they cuddle after going to pops or something and it’s just fluffy.

hey! happy valentines day gays! and get you, two imagines in one day, it must be the day of love. i hope you all like this because it’s really fluffy and i enjoyed writing this a lot!

Overnight, Riverdale became a shell of its former self. Two months since Kevin Keller and Moose Mason stumbled upon the body of Jason Blossom, and nobody has been the same since. 

The town is riddled with secrets, they’re slowly destroying it like a disease. Nobody trusts anybody anymore, everyone is on high alert, and everyone is a suspect. 

Cheryl usually loves being the centre of attention, she has done ever she was a kid. It’s something that comes naturally with being a twin, you share everything and as much as she loves loved the shared birthdays and friends, she has always loved being the centre of attention.

Now however, she hates it. Her life is a true crime documentary at the minute, and all she wants is for the killer to be caught so the crew can pack up and leave and she no longer has to stare down at the blinding lights being cast over her and her family. 

The only thing that’s kept her sane over the past two months, is you. Despite everything happening, despite the murder and the secrets and the suspicion, you’ve stuck by her side. You were with her when they found the body, and you haven’t really left since. 

The two of you are unlikely friends, she’s Cheryl. Bright and bold and never one to back down from confrontation. But you’re Y/n, sweet and shy and always the first to shrink away from any sort of attention directed at you. 

She knows you hate the constant attention recently, it’s something you get used when you’re best friends with the victim’s sister, but not once have you complained. 

You’ve being questioned by police, journalists and strangers on the internet. You’ve had camera’s shoved in your face on your walk back from school and been asked countless questions about what you know about the Blossom’s. And you’ve also been offered ridiculous amounts of money in order to talk. But no matter what happens, you always just rush past them and join Cheryl, who’s always waiting for you with a sad smile and warm hand. 

Due to the constant hoard of vultures swarming Riverdale High, the two of you had to figure out somewhere else to meet after school so you could walk the long way home. It adds twenty minutes to your walk, but it’s not that well known around town, meaning people can’t bother you. 

Plus, the extra twenty minutes that you get to spend with Cheryl isn’t the worst thing. It’s the opposite in fact. It’s the thing you look forward to, even if you are looking over your shoulder every so often 

But today you’re not at your meeting spot. 

When Cheryl pushes her way through the stares of her fellow students with you and only you on her mind and makes her way through the school basement, back up the stairs and out of the fire exit, you’re not waiting for her with a smile that makes her feel warm and a cold slice of pizza you snuck out of the cafe earlier. 

The only thing waiting for her is a full bin and an empty field. 

“Y/n?” She calls out and looks around the corner. She’s met with three seniors, all of which are smoking with absolutely no care for being caught. 

“She’s not here.” One of them says, her blonde hair and large glasses cover half of her face and Cheryl forces a smile. 

“Hey, Blossom.” A boy says and Cheryl freezes. Who knows what they want, but whatever it is, it probably won’t be nice. It’ll probably be something along the lines of ‘hey, did you kill your brother’ and no matter how many times she’s asked that, it doesn’t get any easier. “Maybe try the bleachers.” He says, ending his sentence with a sympathetic smile and Cheryl nods slowly, not really sure what to say. 

“Thanks.” She forces and spins on her heel. 

“We’re sorry about your brother, Cheryl.” The blonde one says and she turns around again. Each of them look sad, with matching frowns and sorrow swimming in their eyes. 

Jason meant the world to Cheryl, but he also meant a hell of a lot to other people too. And that’s when it hits her. Of course you’re at the bleachers. 

For some bizarre reason, only known by your father. You and your family used to come along every other week to watch the Bulldogs play. For a while you thought it was because your dad was trying to get you and your brother into football and this was a lot cheaper than the actual game, but the older you got the more you figured it was because he was just trying to relive his youth. For 90 minutes he could pretend that he was quarterback again and for those 90 minutes your dad would be the happiest he’d been all week. 

Then one week, a redhead sat beside you. In clothes that were far too expensive to be worn to a high school football game. Her parents looked like they wanted to be there as much as she did, but then a boy with matching red hair ran out on to the pitch and you’d never seen a smile quite like it. 

After that, you made sure to sit beside her at every game. And then one day she sat opposite you at lunch. The first few times she was alone, but then soon she began to appear with a group of other girls, but you were the only one she’d talk to. 

Eventually lunch times and football games turned into group projects and sleepovers. You spend hours braiding her hair and listening to her tell you stories of other worlds and the creatures that live in them. You’d sneak down the dark and creepy halls of Thornhill in hopes of finding a midnight snack, and instead be met by Jason and your older brother in clown masks. 

Eventually, you found a different way to get to the kitchen, one that Jason didn’t know about. And when he’d come looking for you, both of you would jump out  and chase him around the house, much to the dismay of Penelope and Clifford. 

Those bleachers are what started a whole friendship, not only between you and her, but also you and Jason. When you’re brother eventually made the team, thanks to a good word put in my Jason, despite him being a year younger. Him and Jason became as inseparable as you and Cheryl and so it wasn’t an uncommon occurrence to see the four of you hanging out. It also meant that if Cheryl was busy, you and Jason would hang out until she finished whatever she was doing. 

Grief is a hell of a lonely thing, and sometimes Cheryl forgets that other people miss Jason too. With everything going on, she didn’t even think about how you were doing. With all the questions, accusations and crying that constantly fills Cheryl’s house. She never even asked how you were. 

And now her legs can’t carry her quick enough to were she hopes your sat. Because she’s already lost her brother, she can’t lose you too. She wobbles as her heels dig into the dirt, kicking up dust and mud as she runs across the field. Her hair swings behind her, and she can feel the red scrunchie loosen the quicker she runs. 

The bleachers have all sorts carved into them. Initials in hearts, some of them still there, some of them crossed out so aggressively that it’s a miracle they didn’t chop it in half. There’s inside jokes and ridiculous rumours. Codes and dates and everything in between. 

But something new has been added in the past few days. 

cheryl murdered jason

and y/n helped

The writing is small and barely legible, but it’s there and the more you run your fingers over it the more it carves itself into your heart. 

“Y/n?” Cheryl pants breathlessly and you quickly pull yourself away from it. Instead you stand up properly and pull the sleeves of your sweater down over your hands. The y/f/c scrunchie remains still in your hair and Cheryl has to stare at it for a few seconds to calm herself down. “You weren’t at our spot.” She says quietly and you close your eyes. 

You let her down. You let her down. You always let her down.  

“Sorry Cheryl.” You sigh and sit down in the dirt. Cheryl looks around before sitting beside you. “I just wanted some space.” You add and force yourself to look at her. 

The sun sits behind her, but even that doesn’t seem as bright as it used to be. Nothing is what it used to be. For the past two months, you’ve been told that thats a good thing. But what’s good about someone you loved being dead. What’s good about watching someone else you love go through life but not really live. 

Cheryl just exists. 

But she exists for you. 

Because as lost as she would be without you, she knows you would be just as lost without her. 

It’s an unspoken rule now, you always text each other when you wake up and before you go to sleep. It’s something you used to do anyway, but now you make a point not to forget. Because forgetting means that the worst could have happened, and that’s something neither of you can bare to deal with. 

“I get it.” She nods. “I was just worried that’s all.” She adds, trying to sound as casual as she can. But on the inside she’s screaming. Because she thought you had died, she thought whoever had killed Jason had gotten to you too, and the whole reason you’re both dead is because she wronged the wrong person. 

There’s a lot of people that don’t like Cheryl, being unliked comes naturally to her. But she doesn’t know how she’ll cope if she’s so unlikeable someone she loves died. 

She has no idea why your friends with her to be honest. She saw you staring at her at a football game once. But it wasn’t a stare she was used to. It wasn’t cold like her mothers or jealous like her friends. No, this was nice. You were staring at her like you wanted to know about her, like when you looked at her, you saw a friend not someone to be feared. 

And so Cheryl clung onto the tiny hint of friendship, the crack of a door into something that could happen, and she shoved herself through it. It worked, and now you’re the only person she’s nice to. She’s mean to everyone else, she calls them names and teases them, especially when they’re rude to you...but you stay. And she has no idea why, but she’s not going to wish it away. 

“Shit, sorry Cheryl.” You drop your head into your hands and Cheryl looks at you confused. She looks around, not really sure of what to do. “I didn’t think, God knows what you thought had happened.” You ramble and she realizes you’re crying. Her eyes widen and you look at her, your eyes red and puffed and your lips pulls into frown. 

“It’s okay.” She replies and wraps her arms around you. You bury your head into her neck, the smell of maple and cherries invade your senses and you let out a shaky breath. 

It smells like home and happier times, and you want to crawl into those happy memories and never come back out. “I was just being ridiculous.” She tries to play it off, to make it seem like she couldn’t feel her heartbeat in her throat and the ringing in her ears. Pretend like it didn’t feel like someone had pulled her heart out and stamped on it. 

“No, no you weren’t. I’m really sorry.” You sob and wrap your arms around her. She falls into your neck, surprised but not upset with how tight you’re holding her. She never wants you to let go. But of course she has to, and so however reluctant, she untangles herself from you and lets out a deep sigh. 

“I’m sorry.” You sniffle. She hands you a tissue and you wipe your eyes with it before scrunching it up in your hand. “I’ve just had a rubbish day. Somebody shoved this in my locker.” You frown and pull a balled up piece of paper out of your pocket. 

Cheryl’s eyebrows knit in confusion as she takes it from you, her fingers graze yours and you freeze for a few seconds. 

who do you think did it? 

cheryl __

y/n __

Jamie __

“Why is your brother on here?” Cheryl asks, her voice rising with each word and you rest your hand on top of hers to calm her down. 

“I dunno.” You shrug. “Your parents are on there too.” You add and point further down the page. 

“What a bunch of dicks.” She grumbles and crumples it up. “Do you know who it was?” You shrug and she sighs. 

“I’ve just gotten tired of the staring and the whispers. So I thought I’d just have five minutes peace before going home and having to listen to Jamie cry in his room but pretend he’s okay. Or for my parents to walk on eggshells around both of us. Neither of them know what to say, and because of that they keep saying the wrong thing.” You ramble and she listens intently, trying her best to find a resolution to all of your problems. 

Unfortunately, she doesn’t know the answer to everything, no matter what her mom says. 

“I just thought five minutes by myself can’t be terrible. But then I came down here and someone carve-well it doesn’t matter what they wrote. What matters is that I made you worry at the worst possible time in your life. I hurt you, and I’m really sorry. Believe me, hurting you is the last thing I want to do you. I feel sick even just thinking about it. I never, ever want to hurt you. I love you too much. I love you more that I’ve ever loved anything or anyone ever. I just love yo-” Your eyes widen when you realize what you’ve just admitted to. 

You don’t want to look at her, but she hasn’t said anything in a while and that’s strange for her. So you force yourself to look at her, expecting the worst. Expecting disgust, disappointment, betrayal. But it’s none of those. 

Instead she’s smiling. And she looks actually happy. Something you haven’t seen in so long, something you’re glad to see, despite the circumstances. 

Oh yeah, you’ve just told her you’re in love with her. What do you say after that? 

“I-er-”

“Y/n?” She cuts you off before you get the chance to ruin the moment. She’s known you for long enough to know that when you get nervous, you ramble and when you ramble you say weird things. 

You’re grateful for her cutting you off, usually if she talks over you, it annoys the hell out of you. But this time it’s welcomed and she stifles a small laugh and the sigh of relief you let out. 

But the next thing she says is something that you weren’t expecting, but you’re sure as hell grateful for. 

“Would you like to go on a date?” 

---

The red lights from outside, illuminate Cheryl’s pale face in the night, painting her in a reddish hue and you find yourself staring at her for far longer than would be considered normal. 

Lucky for you, she hasn’t noticed. She doesn’t seem to be paying attention to anything, not really anyway. Instead she stares down at her food, pushing a few fries around the plate and anxiety rises in your chest. 

She’s already regretting doing this. She’s made a mistake and now she doesn’t know how to let you down gently. 

She seems to sense you nerves because she’s looking at you quickly, a sad smile twitching at her lips.

“Sorry, I just. Jason always used to tease me about the two of us. It’s the only thing we’d take about sometimes. He’d constantly ask me if I’d asked you out yet. And every time I would say ‘no, we’re just friends’ but, well neither of us really believed that.” She says, a small laugh escapes her lips near the end, but she quickly shuts it off. It’s too soon for her to be laughing, too soon for her to be happy. 

“Yeah.” You nod and finish your drink. “He used to tease me too. ‘if you don’t tell her, I’ll do it myself’.” You mimic his voice and a ghost of a smile twitches at her lips as she forces herself to look at you. “I am really glad you did ask me though.” Your voice shakes a little with nerves and Cheryl stares at you confused. “I do really like you Cheryl.” 

“I really like you too.” She smiles softly and you stare at her lips. Sometimes you think the red lipstick has permanently stained her lips cherry red. Even when you guys are a sleepover, she still has bright red lips and the other part of you wonders if that’s just what they look like. 

“Hey.” You start and a sly smile twitches at your lips as you remember an old memory. She leans forward, excited to know what you’re smiling about. 

It could literally be anything, from a musty old book she let you borrow from the Thornhill archive, to a new tv show you started to watch. But whatever it is, she’s excited to hear you talk about it. 

“Can you remember last year. It was Jamie’s 16th birthday and you and Jason were invited over. Jason was there because him and Jamie were planning on sneaking out later that night, and you tagged along so you could keep me company.” You start and she smiles at the memory. 

The four of you sat in the living room, while your mom brought cake and your dad sang ‘happy birthday’. Cheryl remembers how happy she was, and she remembers talking to Jason afterwards, the two of them whispering and wondering if that was what a normal family was supposed to look like. 

You, Cheryl and Jason had each pitched in for the record player he wanted. And even though you all knew that just Cheryl alone could have been able to buy him it if she really wanted, you knew they split it for you. 

Jamie was ecstatic when he opened the box, and then all of the records you’d bought to go with it. He’d played it every single day since getting it, but now you haven’t heard it in months.

“Yeah.” She nods, a sad smiling taking over he face. “Can you remember when Jason pushed his face into the cake.” She adds making you snort a laugh. 

The bell above Pop’s rings and Betty and Archie walk in. They send you a sympathetic smile before sitting at their own booth, and you and Cheryl share a look. 

“Would you like another one?” You point at her milkshake and she nods, smiling shyly. 

---

The walk home is over far too soon, and it’s only when you’re standing on your porch do you realize you took the normal way home by accident. Either the media has gone to sleep, or people are starting to forget about Jason and Riverdale. 

That thought makes you frown and Cheryl watches your expression falter before you look back at her again. 

“Thank you for walking me home.” You smile shyly and a nervous laugh escapes her lips. 

“It’s no problem.” She shrugs and the two of you stare at each other for a few seconds longer than normal. She’s about to leave when you grab her hand and spin her around to face you. 

She’s surprised for a second, until suddenly she feels a pair of lips on hers, and then the only thing she can feel is them. Everything else disappears, and though the kiss is short and a little awkward, it’s still perfect. 

“Would you like to come in?” You ask and motion your head to large wooden door. The pain is chipped around the metal numbers, something your mom has nagged your dad about for the past 6 months. “We still have the rest of y/f/s to watch.” 

“I’d love to.” She nods and the two of you grin at each other. “But seriously, how many times have you seen that now?” 

“It doesn’t matter how many times I’ve seen it.” You unlock the front door, giving it a quick kick before you stumble through it. “What matters is that this is the first time you’re seeing it.” You add and she rolls her eyes but follows you up the stairs anyway. 

The sun sets over another day in Riverdale and darkness floods the town. The streets are cold and scary, but wrapped in your duvet and Cheryl’s arms, you’ve never felt warmer. 

#cheryl blossom #cheryl blossom imagine #cheryl blossom x reader #cheryl blossom x y/n #cheryl blossom x you #riverdale #riverdale imagine

[writingdotcoffee]

#181: Venturing Into the Unknown

To write, you have to face yourself. That can be incredibly difficult sometimes. Harder than many other things are. But before we get into that, imagine that you're a firefighter.

You're pretty new — just been through training. You’ve read all the books, done all the drills. Today is your first shift. The sirens go off at the station. It's a massive fire — an entire residential building engulfed in flames. You arrive with the rest of the crew. There's absolute mayhem outside. You can hear screams coming from within.

On paper, you're qualified to get in and get those people out. In reality, however, nobody knows how this could end. The fire doesn’t care what the textbook says. It makes its own rules. Even an experienced firefighter can end up in a difficult situation.

Writing is sometimes like this. No matter how much you study the craft or outline the story before you start writing, at some point, you'll be venturing into the unknown. You'll have very little idea whether the thing will work. The voices inside the burning building are your stories, and you'll have to get them out of there.

Where this metaphor couldn't be more different are the stakes. Firefighters put everything on the line. Maybe the conspiracy nut that lives on the third floor illegally stacked his flat full of ammo to protect himself when the Illuminati come knocking. You open the door to his place. A massive explosion blasts through the building. There's nothing you could've done.

As a writer, it's not even close. The worst thing that can happen? You will have to throw the story away. But you can write another one. And you're free to keep what you've learned and use it to make the next one better.

While that's not easy at all to part ways with hundreds of thousands of words that you might have worked on for months and years, you still get another shot. And another one after that. As long as you want to keep going, you can keep going.

So when you're stuck or unsure where to go next, just pick one thing and run with it. You may be entering a burning building, but no matter what happens you will come out alive.

Don't be afraid to take risks. As a writer, that's one thing that you can afford.

Only one thing can be fatal to a writer: doing nothing at all.

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Past Editions

#180: Will It Work?, January 2021

#179: Throwaway Stories, January 2021

#178: Progress Over Perfection, January 2021

#177: Change Is Good, January 2021

#176: Start Before You’re Ready, January 2021

#writing #writers #write #writing tips #writing advice #amwriting #writing life #writeblr #writing update #update #personal update #me

[nct-lian]

nct 127 reaction to jinwoo cheating on lian

warnings: mention of shooting (angry yuta), swearing

𖧧࣪⠀⌗  —  TAEIL!

was literally furious. when he entered the dorms with leftover food from his lunch, he saw her sobbing on the couch next to taeyong, who was trying his best to calm her down. he knew what was going on on the internet, but he never expected any of it to be true. he genuinely thought jinwoo was a good guy, but he was proven wrong once taeyong told him about what happened when the boys were all gone.

𖧧࣪⠀⌗  —  JOHNNY!

johnny wanted nothing more than to beat his ass for what he had done to lian. was what he told them all fake? was it for show? did jinwoo really break his promise to them when he said he would never dare to hurt her? what he saw the minute he entered the dorms with taeyong and doyoung was a sight he would never forget no matter how he hard he tried; seeing lian scream at jinwoo, throwing glass everywhere and stomping around the living room furiously as jinwoo continued to apologize to her.

𖧧࣪⠀⌗  —  TAEYONG!

he had always vowed to protect lian, and he will never forgive himself for standing there and watching as lian screamed and cried for it all to be a joke. he was no doubt absolutely furious at jinwoo for putting his baby through all this emotional stress, but he couldn’t do more than stand there in shock. he wanted to cry with her and tell her that everything was okay, and that there’s someone better out there that was waiting for her right now.

𖧧࣪⠀⌗  —  YUTA!

yuta only found out the news when he had come by hours later for dinner as a group. but when jungwoo quietly answered his question about why lian wouldn’t be joining them for their meal, johnny had to physically restrain him from walking out that door and putting a hole right through that guy’s chest. he swore that he was going to kill him if he had the chance—how dare he hurt lian? if it were up to yuta, jinwoo wouldn’t be saying another ray of sunlight again.

𖧧࣪⠀⌗  —  DOYOUNG!

i think you guys already know how furious he’d be. the night lian introduced jinwoo to all of them, he knew that it wouldn’t end well. in no way does doyoung judge anyone off of their appearance, but when he first looked at jinwoo, there was definitely something off. the tattoos littering basically his entire body and the cocky smirk that was set on his lips the entire time his members were introducing themselves—he was arrogant and smug. doyoung only wished lian knew the damage he could do to jinwoo if he were allowed.

𖧧࣪⠀⌗  —  JAEHYUN!

he really couldn’t believe what he was hearing. yeah, jaehyun had never liked him, but the audacity he had to even tug on a single heart string of hers was beyond him. much like yuta, all jaehyun wanted to do was kill jinwoo, but he held back for the sake of not causing a scene. the last thing he wanted to do was have lian walk out of her room to see him raging. all he could think of was how much better he could have treated her if it were him.

𖧧࣪⠀⌗  —  WINWIN!

winwin surprsingly only found out through the internet. lian previously told him that she was seeing someone, but with all the things going around on the internet a month later, he knew something was wrong. the minute he saw that sm had made a statement regarding their relationship and how they broke up, he called lian and asked if she was okay. they spent about two more hours on the phone that night and just talked. it’s safe to say that winwin’s protective instincts really showed that day, and he’s happy he was able to help her through some of the pain.

𖧧࣪⠀⌗  —  JUNGWOO!

i mean, he was devastated for her. to everyone’s surprise, he actually stayed away from her long enough for her to collect her thoughts. he knew her well enough to tell whether or not she was ready to talk about anything, and at that moment, all he would get from her was a cold shoulder if he tried to talk. all he was able to say was that he was in shock, and that she deserved none of what was going on. it happened so long ago but he’s yet to forget jinwoo’s name, nor will he ever forget what he put his lianna through.

𖧧࣪⠀⌗  —  MARK!

he probably missed her more than anything. he was there every second of their relationship, watching as lian fell harder for jinwoo, only for him to do a complete 180 and break her heart. how could he hurt his best friend like that? who does that? lian was no doubt the most lovable person in the world with the biggest heart. mark would sleep over on the fifth floor all the time in hopes lian would finally leave her room to talk to somebody, and everytime she did, he would ask if she was up to do something with him. fun fact: mark was the first person she went out with after her breakup and they went to go get drinks together :(

𖧧࣪⠀⌗  —  HAECHAN!

he honestly thought that lian would be better by a week— he knew that she was strong and he believed that she would get over it, so that’s why he wasn’t as mad as everyone else. but god, was he wrong. lian took weeks to fully recover; the walking dread of not feeling good enough following her everywhere she went was too much to handle, and haechan noticed. he heard her crying every night before he went to bed, and everytime he would walk by her room, he would hear the faint noise of something smashing to the ground. little by little, he grew more upset. he was finally noticing what was going on, and he promised her that she’d always have his constant support from now on. nobody hurts his noona and gets away with it.

#i finished this in class for you guys you’re welcome #lian: reactions #nct addition #nct female member #kim chungha #nct 127 #nct #nct dream #wayv #moon taeil #johnny suh #lee taeyong #nakamoto yuta #kim doyoung #jung jaehyun #dong sicheng #kim jungwoo #mark lee #lianna bae #lee donghyuck #nct 127 added member #nct 127 female member #nct dream female member #nct dream added member #nct 22nd member #nct 24th member

[rpmemesbyarat]

RP meme from Scream Queens Ep 10 "Thanksgiving"

Listen. I don't want you to take this the wrong way, but I don't think I can bone you right now.

My wanger is way stressed out.

I've killed for our love.

I just gave her a little push.

You and I can pick up right where we left off.

You can bring me home for Thanksgiving and introduce me to my future in-laws.

What did you do with the body?

I put it in the meat locker. It's where we've been putting all the dead bodies.

I need to see the body.

Look, we can have a three-way with the body.

I'll show you the body, but not so you can have sex with it.

I'll show it to you so that you and I will share a dangerous secret that will strengthen our relationship and bring us closer together.

I don't understand how this keeps happening!

Is this meat locker, like, a wormhole to an alternate universe or something?

She'll probably stop at nothing until she gets her revenge by murdering you.

No one wants to spend a room service Thanksgiving alone.

Are you going to talk at all?

You shouldn't be mad at me.

We're the sane ones.

Now, I know you've got other plans today, and for alibi's sake we need to protect your cover, but I am not letting you leave on an empty stomach.

Is that what quail is? I thought they were bigger.

You know what I was picturing? Pheasant.

Time to slice off those breasts.

I feel like this holiday is all about family, and, well, as you know, I gave up on my real family a long time ago.

I mean, at this point, the closest thing I have to family is. . . you.

I understand that Thanksgiving is supposed to be about family and being together and thanking God that we were born rich in America and not in Uganda or Venezuela or any of those other African countries.

You're late. The game's just about to start.

What do you think would happen if those instructions were incorrect?

This family's fortune is built on being right on time.

There's nothing better than sitting together as a family, watching the game. Laughing, smiling, just enjoying the warmth of each other's company. That's what it's all about today. Togetherness.

I hate defrosted food.

Why is it called Italian Style Chicken Cacciatore? All chicken cacciatore is Italian style.

This is not what Thanksgiving is supposed to be.

A bunch of my sort-of friends have been killed and no one has asked me about it.

Oh. And I'm starting a new family tradition. It involves me never coming to any family occasions ever again.

Would you stop with the screaming?

It's more like a stay of execution until no one is looking.

I've never cooked before, but that should be fine, since I usually just pretend to eat.

Well, I can cook and eat for the both of us.

So we've decided to have an orphans Thanksgiving all together.

I mean, I guess you could come over here if you wanted.

And this year I'm so thankful for the lax indecency laws in Eastern Europe that inundate our Internet with millions of hours of hard-core porn.

You know, ever since I was a little boy, I knew what God wanted me to do and that was make money off the backs of creative people.

I am so thankful that he, for whatever reason, has not murdered me yet.

You have such a vast future ahead of you.

You'll meet so many new and different women. So many wonderful women to go out with and break up with and move on from.

You should be thankful that this table is too long for me to reach across and strangle you, bitch!

What are you doing here? How are you alive?

When I woke up and regained consciousness, I felt better than ever.

The only thing you're carrying is water weight, you bloated little tramp.

I have a little game to play that's gonna make the time fly right by.

No, I've never killed anyone as far as I know.

Okay, there is no evidence at all that mass murder is genetic.

I would say that is more than a little suspicious.

I have bathroom shame issues. I always wait until everyone is asleep and then I sneak down to poop in the little powder room downstairs.

I mean, don't we all agree that those babies are the killers?

That seems like an unnecessarily complicated cover story.

I think we have plenty here to go to the police.

What, are you drunk?

You know, the one time I call you for a little advice, you're hammered.

I suppose we should discuss the matter of payment.

I'm asking you to name your price.

Are you propositioning me?

No, I'm asking how much money it'll take to make you go away.

My family is super-gross rich.

That outfit screams desperation.

I am, however, willing to write you a check for $50,000 if you will leave now and never come back.

It's a lot of money for a family like yours.

What is the best part about Thanksgiving?

Tastes like Henry VIII just barfed in my mouth.

Well, I don't want to sound like a dick here, but have you ever considered maybe you should leave?

I brought some of my famous eight-meat stuffing. It's beef, venison, alligator, buffalo, rabbit, goat, rattlesnake and Spam. I cut all of the meats super thin, so that you're guaranteed every meat in every bite.

I thought you said you were leaving forever or something like that?

Have you ever even cracked open a book?

You did say just the other day that the only way to live is to play the long game.

I really hope you can come up with something better than that.

I can prove that you're the only person in this room we know for a fact is a murderer.

I saw you in the coffee shop the other day, reading one of your old Playgirl magazines.

Okay, look, there's just some stuff that doesn't add up.

Look, I've gone through all the suspects in my mind, and I can explain away all my suspicions for everyone except you.

Can we just talk this out, so you can help me see that I'm wrong?

I mean, it would fit in with your whole hard worker, let's find out the truth, never take no for an answer, awful personality.

Anything to redeem your beloved dead mother.

I can't rest when the killer's still out there, so I stayed behind to do some more research.

You're skinny and pretty, so that's a plus, but it's highly competitive, so you'd better be rich, too.

You know how at the beginning of the year, I was always secretly following you so I could just keep an eye on you, make sure you were safe?

I heard you talking to someone, but I couldn't hear what it was about.

Thank you for letting me talk about this, talk this out, and hear your side of the story.

Um, homely, ugly.

Gold digger! Not welcome.

No, no, too chunky to wear that outfit.

I'm fairly certain this board game's been tampered with.

And while my motivations were airtight and my conscience clear, still, I'm sorry.

I mean, no one deserves to be spoken to like that, particularly not by what is, without a doubt, the most awful family in America.

I've honestly seen more tasteful decor at a Sizzler.

And you, sir, give the kind, hard-working, deeply moral people who work in such a wonderful industry as Hollywood a bad name.

I am walking out that door and never speaking to you again.

How could such a stud evolve from a boy who was so clearly a douche?

Oh, please, look, I-I was so bombed at that party. I mean, I remember I puked while I was making out with some girl, but there is no way that I could've found my way back down there 20 minutes later, let alone 20 years.

This is really embarrassing, um, but I started the paleo diet, because I'm back on the dating scene now, and I-I wanted to lose some weight.

I never saw a body down there.

I-I was a bit of a man slut back in the day, and it was the '90s, so nobody wore condoms.

I'm obligated to take it to the police.

What are you gonna do with the money?

didn't take the money, idiot.

Okay, first of all, I experienced extreme emotional trauma this evening, and second, I'm the one delegating tasks, thank you very much.

I couldn't find any matches.

I was sharpening this knife.

You haven't eaten yet, have you? I knew it!

You've come back. You've chosen me over your awful family.

First of all, my family is awesome. How dare you?

So, without further ado, dinner is served.

#rp meme #rp memes #rp starters #roleplay meme #roleplay starters #roleplay memes #scream queens

[theoriginalcarnivorousmuffin]

#ask the writer

How can I write a couple with a healthy relationship?

I mean I don't want them to change themselves to make the other happy but I want them to work well

You know, it’s funny, this is a very serious question but I’m just laughing.

Because I feel like I am not the writer you’re looking for as I have never, in my life, written a story that is solely centered around two characters having a healthy relationship.

I like to think I write relationships well, that I write well period, but I have never written a story with the goal you outline in mind. 

Still, I’ll do my best and see where this takes us. Though caveat that as I’ll be speaking very generally it may not apply to your situation.

First, a post I made earlier, how to write organic, believable, relationships period.

All of that still applies which... makes your goal a little harder.

What do I mean?

Stories Are About Change

At their heart, stories are always a journey. Something happens. It can be big, it can be small, maybe the characters learned something, maybe they pointedly learned nothing. Some things changed, some things didn’t, but as an audience we left feeling something. However, the point being, it is not a snapshot.

Which automatically puts us in deep water with your premise.

If I’m writing a story that’s focused on a relationship, and I want that relationship to be depicted in a certain manner and only that manner, and that’s all I want to touch on: I don’t have a story, I have an aesthetic. It’s a nice aesthetic, I like it, but it is just a snapshot in time.

If our characters are only ever in a healthy relationship, if they never enter or grow into this relationship, or leave this relationship, and we have nothing else going on... Then what’s this even about?

Nobody grows, nobody changes, it’s just... stagnant.

So, right away that presents a problem. If the relationship is the whole point then it must change throughout the story. That’s what people do, we change, we learn things about the world and about each other. 

And that means... it might not always be at its healthiest.

Mitigation One: Don’t Focus on the Relationship

Alright, well, what if the story’s not about the relationship? What if there are just two characters who have a very healthy relationship inside the story and I have some other, larger, plot going on?

Well, you’re in a better place here. We have an excuse for things with the couple to move more slowly, we have other sources of conflict that the characters can focus on while still relying on one another but...

You’re still going to have issues because our characters are still growing as people.

As they confront things out there in the wide world their view of the world, of themselves, and of each other will change. There will be miscommunications, their beliefs may come into conflict, their desires may come into conflict, and they may grow to be people who cannot in fact maintain a healthy relationship (which, ending a relationship that’s bad for you can be a very healthy thing to do).

Now, maybe they work through these issues, which is a very healthy thing to do. However, they will likely still run into these issues and may have periods where tensions are running very high and the relationship seems like it will fail. In other words, in working through issues, you may have periods where you’re writing a relationship you do not wish to.

Relationships have highs and they have lows, you have to be willing to write such things even if said relationship is taking a backseat to the greater plot.

Mitigation Two: Move From an Unhealthy Relationship to a Healthy Relationship

To me some of the greatest stories that focus on a pair are those which focus on Character A realizing they’re in a horrible relationship and getting out, sometimes finding a better one.

Take, “The Revolutionary Girl Utena”. That is what this entire, beautiful, show is about. The characters begin in the most toxic, horrific, abusive relationships and yet we end on a very hopeful note where people recognize the relationships they were in, get out, and someday in the future might begin again with healthier partners.

You have everything a story needs in this. You have growth of characters, you have a lot of tension and conflict, you have a recognition of what love is, what healthy relationships truly are, and what bad relationships are.

However, this is a very dark path, as it involves writing the relationship you do not, in fact, wish to write at all. You end up where you want to, which might be sweeter for it, but maybe as a writer this isn’t what you want to focus on.

Mitigation Three: The Story is the Development of the Relationship

Perhaps the story closest to what you’re looking for is one that focuses on the relationship coming into being. In other words, the slow burn route. The characters are well suited to each other, they treat each other with dignity and respect, but for a variety of legitimate reasons they do not get together until the very end of your story.

The story, then, is how these people end up together (among other things).

However, this isn’t quite the Healthy Relationship I see bandied about on Ao3 either, because it’s slow burn. The characters still have to grow as people, undoubtedly have their own faults or barriers that get in the way of the relationship starting, and may have significant communication issues.

They end up where you want them to be, in a great communicative relationship, but there are reasons they don’t start there which violate the Healthy Relationship axiom.

Some Other Problems

Changing Your Characters to Make the Ship Work

In your ask you outline one of the major issues with the Healthy Relationship trope. Sometimes, if you have two characters in mind, they will simply never enter a healthy relationship. Ever.

Their backgrounds, personalities, goals, or something are completely incompatible. Trying to get them together is like trying to fit a round peg into a square hole. It’s just not going to work and feel very hamfisted if you try.

And honestly, the best advice I have for that is to accept it. I’m sorry it sucks your ship isn’t going to work out the way you wanted, but if you’re working that hard, it means your brain is screaming at you “DON’T DO IT!!!” Your brain is usually right in these matters.

If you change too much of a character to make it work, then it’s not even the character you wanted to smash together with the other character.

Now, that said, while you should never enter a relationship expecting to change your partner into someone you like (nor should they have to change for you), I will say that people do change. More, if we’re talking things like “my partner is a mass murderer”, then yeah, we should change that to enter a healthy relationship (or, perhaps the safest option, don’t enter that relationship at all). 

I once read a fic that, while mostly good, ended on the hilariously terrible morale of Character A realizing it was wrong to what to change her love interest Character B and that she should accept her for who she is. Great moral at a distance, a great lesson learned, but in the scope of the story fell to pieces. What did Character B do that Character A initially objected to? She murdered thousands of people. I’m still with Character A’s initial thoughts on that one.

What the Hell is a Healthy Relationship?

If you read fics focusing on healthy relationships a lot of the time they’re... really weird. The couple never seem to have any emotions, they’re always placid and calm (with a great BDSM sex life), never have any fights, never have any conflict between their interest, and just smile at each other and become complete Stepford Wives.

The author is so focused on the relationship being healthy, the pair never fighting and having fantastic safe yet realistic sex, that they forget what relationships are.

It’s okay if your characters fight, it’s okay if they sometimes forget how to communicate, the point is if they are able to work through these barriers or not.

Why Are You Asking Me?

Now, all that said, I am just one person on the internet. A lot of people love the healthy relationship trope, and frankly, if you give it to them they will love you forever. 

People will routinely read and adore 100k stories where nothing happens, at all, except we see two characters just be in this stagnant healthy relationship with each other interrupted by your occasional lemon. Maybe during the story a second set of characters will enter an equally healthy relationship to fuel the plot. 

And hey, if other people like it, who am I to complain? Go for it, have fun, have your healthy relationship and slice of life story. I personally may not read it, but you’re not writing it for me, are you?

#writing #writing meta #healthy relationships #relationships #meta

[stupid-stew]

two vent fics in as many days? me? nooooo.

the answer is actually yes. i am in crisis all of the time. here take a gender one because why the heck not it's 4:30 am and i have nothing to lose. luz, toady you are me. there is also a little bit of parent eda because what do you take me for? a fool? (Pronouns? AO3 link if that floats ur boat)

Luz Noceda had a lot of problems.

Sure, she was stuck in a hell dimension with no way home in sight, where her best chance of surviving was reliant on her having magic, of which she had none, and was separated from her mom, and was currently blaming herself for her surrogate mom having lost her magic, but that wasn’t the point right now.

Right now, Luz was focused on herself. That’s usually how these nights ended up, with her so lost in thought that she circled back to the root of the problem, she didn’t know who she was.

That wasn’t entirely true, she was Luz Noceda, average teen, lover of Azura, daughter of Camila, professional witch in training, student at Hexside School of Magic and Demonics, foe to an unlucky few, friend to most, the girl who had managed to outsmart the emperor and get herself stuck so far from home she might as well just give up now. Luz knew what she was, she was what other people knew her for, but who was she? Anyone’s guess, suggestions much appreciated.

She had grown up in an environment that exposed her to many different people, the internet. Yeah, maybe she had seen a lot of stuff way before she should have, but she also had the whole world at her fingertips, many types of people and experiences just on the other side of her screen, and it had led to some amazing things. Her mom had also been a big help, allowing Luz to question and experiment any which way she pleased, as long as she was happy and safe. That had helped Luz figure out who she liked, she was comfortable telling her mom she liked girls confidently at the ripe age of 10, Camila had of course been nothing but accepting.

That was easy enough, right? She knew exactly what she was, who she liked, hell she could figure out most people just by looking at them, so why couldn’t she figure out herself?

And that was where Luz was at, laying on the floor in her makeshift bedroom in the owl house, once again wondering what in the hell was a gender.

Luz was no stranger to this internal battle, it sort of came with the whole territory of figuring out your sexuality, but for the life of her she didn’t even know where to start.

Ok, she thought to herself, let’s start from the top. I don’t know where the top is. What is the easiest way to go about this. Most people start with pronouns, maybe that’s a good place to start? Luz let out a groan, this was going nowhere. Back on track. she/her. Simple enough, good solid pronouns. That’s what most people have called me forever. I'm comfortable with it, other people are comfortable with it, no, what other people think doesn’t matter, this is about me. Focus, Luz. Ok, she/her, fine. Though not always, doesn’t always feel right, how can words feel right or wrong that doesn’t even make sense. Whatever, most of the time she/her equals a girl.

Luz shivered at that, girl, the word had never felt right to her, something about it was gross in her mind. She had always hated being referred to as girl or daughter, but never had the guts to speak up about it in the moment. Luz chuckled to herself, and look where we are now. she/her moved to the maybe pile for now.

Next on the list was he/him. Luz smiled at that. Being a somewhat androgynous child for most of her life with short hair, being called her mother’s son at the grocery store was a fairly common occurrence. She recalled one time she was out with a couple of friends and some sweet old lady had said to them “you ladies have a nice day.” and then looked at Luz and added “oh, my bad, and gentleman.” Luz had to leave the store at that, her friends had assumed she was upset that the lady had called her a gentleman, but that wasn’t the case. She was more upset about having been singled out than anything, in fact she hadn’t at all minded being called a gentleman. It didn’t feel completely right, but it didn’t feel completely wrong either.

Ok, so pronouns, this is Luz, he is my apprentice. Eh, feels about the same as she. That’s so lame I was hoping there would be some sort of difference. The only discomfort is that i’m used to she, god my head hurts just thinking about this. Luz rolled over to her other side and covered her head with her sleeping bag. How can I feel literally the same about the two, I haven’t even left the binary, there’s only two options, one should be right, the other should be wrong. This is the same idea as answering an either or question and both options are the same but both are neither right nor wrong. It doesn’t even make sense. If the binary isn’t going to give me my answers then I need to step it up.

They/Them was dangerous territory for Luz and she knew it. This wasn’t her first time around the block, she knew that she loved they/them pronouns for herself. “This is Luz, they’re my apprentice.” God it just felt so right. She could never figure out why, much less bring herself to even try, which was probably how she kept landing herself in this situation. Laying up at night, staring at the ceiling, running pronouns, of all things, through her head over and over. It probably would have been easier if she had someone to tell her how gender was supposed to feel. What it was supposed to identify, what it was supposed to offer for her identity, but alas. It had been easier with her sexuality, she knew from the moment someone had told her that liking girls was even an option that was who she was. She was confident in that, it was simple enough. So why was this still so hard?

Luz took her head out from under her sleeping bag and rubbed the heel of her palms over her eyes. I know I like they/them pronouns, they’re my favorite, they feel so correct, huh go figure I finally got my answer, words can feel right. Still not sure how… anyways, what the hell do I do about it? Ask people to just change the way they refer to me? That’s absurd. Luz knew it wasn’t absurd. Not in the slightest. She knew she had done it for plenty of people before, people she had known for years. It wasn’t hard, it was actually pretty easy and she was glad to switch around how she referred to them no matter how many times they asked. So why can’t I just do the same. Most people see me as a boy or a girl, it’s fine, it’s ok, well at the very least I can deal with it. What are they supposed to do? Just not?

Luz sprawled out on her back and shut her eyes as tight as she could. She knew she had met plenty of people who were non binary, and somehow she had been able to erase the idea of them being either a boy or a girl out of her head almost completely. It’s just how it had worked, was it because she didn’t really see herself in that way either? Maybe I’m just making it up. Maybe it’s all in my head and I’m stopping myself from causing a lot of problems, what if I’m wrong, what if I make a mistake and have to ask people to change around again? I barely figured out what pronouns I prefer, ok well I’ve known for a while, but I still don’t have a label. Non binary? Maybe? I wish I knew what gender was supposed to feel like. She placed her hands behind her head and sighed. If you asked me what gender felt like to me I either wouldn’t have an answer and would start crying or would just scream shrilly at you for a few minutes. Pronouns don’t equal gender but what are either of those. If I use they/them pronouns do I have to identify as non binary? I don’t even like labeling my sexuality and I know what that is. God, I haven’t even scratched the surface of how I present mysel-

Her thoughts were muted by a knock at her door.

“Luz I know you’re awake.”

It was Eda, of course it was. Who else would be awake at this hour and hear her singular sigh from the hallway?

Luz pushed herself up from off the ground and slowly opened the door.

“Can’t sleep?” Eda asked.

Luz just shook her head. She didn’t have the energy for words at the moment.

Eda sighed and stretched out her arm to reach behind her head and pull out a clock from her hair. “Me neither, looks like it’s too late for either of us to be awake. Want some tea?”

Luz nodded and followed Eda down the creaky stairs and to the kitchen. Eda immediately found a kettle and started filling it with water to boil while Luz took a seat at the counter. They sat with just the sound of the running tap for a few uncomfortable seconds before Eda asked the question Luz had been dreading.

“What’s keeping you up?”

Shoot. Can I talk to her about this? It’s Eda, she doesn’t care, does she? Nobody here seems to mind anything, cool non binary witches. That’s so rad. I don’t want to bother her, what if she doesn’t understand, so I have the energy to explain? How would I even go about dropping this if it goes south?

“Hellooooo? Isles to Luz?”

She was snapped out of her thoughts by Eda waving her hands in her face, she looked… worried? Oh, I haven’t answered her question.

“Hm? Oh, it’s nothing.”

Eda didn’t believe her for a minute.

“It doesn’t seem like nothing.”

Luz just sort of turned her head away and shrugged. Eda knew she couldn’t pry it out of the kid. Instead, she just decided to finish making the tea. The two of them sat in silence while the tea bags steeped, which gave Luz a moment back to herself to question her next move.

Eda handed Luz the steaming mug. “You can talk about it if you want. I’ll listen.”

“I don’t know how to do this.”

Eda grinned. They were getting somewhere, whatever was keeping the kid awake this late at night was reaching the surface.

“Just go for it, what’s the worst that could happen?”

Sooo many things Eda.

Luz decided to just start out simple. “Do you know what pronouns are?”

Eda nodded. Ok, good.

“Ok, what are your pronouns?”

Eda was taken aback by this a little, nobody had asked her that in years. What was the kid dealing with? “Well, I use she/her pronouns, but I’ve never really felt attached to any of them, so whatever works just works I guess. Same for King, I don’t really think he cares much as long as you’re referring to him as royalty.” Eda snorted with laughter.

Luz was kind of in shock. Does she feel the same way I do? How did she pick? “How did you know?” the words just kind of fell out of her mouth in a mess.

“Know what?”

Eda looked at her with confusion.

“What pronouns you use?”

“I don’t know, here nobody really cared that much, why should I?”

Then Eda remembered.

“Ooooh yeah you humans use them for that whole gender identity thing. We kind of have that here but it’s not as big of a deal, you guys have all those labels, yeah?”

Luz swallowed deeply and nodded.

“Is that what’s keeping you up?”

Another nod.

“Do you wanna talk at me? I know you do better with your words than your mind, I can do the dishes while you talk if you don’t want my focus.”

Luz was now completely dumbfounded. In the last two minutes, Eda had told her that not only was gender a human thing, but that she was willing to let Luz process it the way that she needed, how had she known? Wait…. Just how similar are Eda and I? Luz couldn’t help but wonder.

Luz nodded and Eda got up without a word and headed straight for the sink.

“I don’t know. Back in the human world, people have a lot of words that they use to describe their genders. I don’t understand any of them, I know their definitions, but I don’t know how to relate to them.”

Luz paused and Eda gave her a gentle hum of interest as a signal to continue.

“They’ve just never made sense to me, I don’t know why and I don’t know how but it’s incredibly frustrating. I gave up on trying to get it and moved on to the things that I do get, which is limited to pronouns. You’ve got the binary pronouns like she and he, usually those fit the words girl and boy, not always, sometimes people use more than one set of pronouns, but the thing is I can’t pick. They feel the exact same to me. There are other ones, the most common being they/them, and I really like those, Eda I really really like them.”

Eda smiled at her, glad to see Luz’s face lighting up.

“But I don’t know. I don’t know if I should use one set, multiple. It’s really bothering that so many people back home understand, they just seem so sure of themselves, they know who they are, they know that they’re a boy or a girl or neither or even both, there’s even more genders to be a combination of, but I can’t. I think there has to be something wrong with me because I know it shouldn’t be this hard but it is, it’s always on my mind, and I can’t stop it or make it make sense. I haven’t even begun to entertain the idea of asking people to change the pronouns they use for me because I can’t tell myself what label even goes with what, and I feel stupid.”

Eda stopped what she was doing.

“You aren’t stupd Luz.”

“How can you say that when I don’t even know who I am, I can’t even figure out what words I want people to use when they refer to me.” Luz sounded exhausted.

Eda turned around and looked her in the face, dead serious. “You aren’t stupid, you just don’t know who you are,” she dried her hands on a towel and sat down across from Luz. “and that’s ok. I know it’s maddening not knowing, but you’re allowed to feel that way, if you don’t have all the answers, what’s gonna happen? Are you gonna die?”

Luz rolled her eyes “sometimes it really does feel like it.”

Eda stood up. “Well we can’t have that, no dead apprentices. You seem to have been thinking about this for a long time, you just need a little bit of a push. Pick some new pronouns.”

Luz stared at her, “what?”

“You can’t figure out how the feeling works, or if there even is one, that’s ok. But, you know that there are some words that fit better than others. You might not be able to tell me why, but you know what they are. What are they?”

Luz didn’t know what to do, she hadn’t prepared herself for this. She was ready for Eda not knowing what was going on, not this. She’s right, time to rip off the bandaid.

“I don’t know…”

“Yes you do.”

There really is no getting out of this one.

“I don’t know, I guess they/them feels ok? Better than the others?”

“And so it shall be.” Eda stated matter-of-factly.

Luz shifted uncomfortably in her seat, “but I don’t know, I’m really used to she/her, they don’t fit quite right but they’ve never really felt wrong enough to get rid of completely.”

Eda shrugged, “you don’t have to. You can use both if you want.”

Luz wasn’t sure, she knew Eda was right, but she couldn’t help but recall the time someone had told her that adding they/them to your pronouns was performative and accomplished nothing. Screw them.

“Ok.” It was simple, but it’s all she had.

“Anything else I should know?”

Luz took a deep breath, she was in this far, might as well keep it up.

“It really bothers me when I get referred to as a girl, I know that I don’t know what labels go where, but I know that one is wrong.”

“Good to know.”

This was going way better than Luz expected, but now all her thoughts were out and she had a little bit of a resolution, she was finally starting to feel how late it was. She yawned, “I think I’m done for the night.”

Eda put on a mock offended look, “But you didn’t even touch your tea? I worked so hard on that for you!”

Luz gave her a weak smile. “It was never about the tea, was it, you just wanted me to talk.”

Eda reached out and ruffled Luz’s hair, “It worked, huh?”

“Yeah I guess it did.”

“Good.”

They emptied their cups into the now pristine sink and went back up the stairs.

“Thanks Eda.”

“Don’t mention it.”

#the owl house #luz noceda #pronouns #fanfic #eda clawthorne

[chocolateheart]

My life is gone

Title: My life is gone

Word count: 2518

Pairing: Dean x Reader, Sam x Reader (friendship)

Summary: You lost him. Now you have to deal with pain, heartbreak and memories.

Warnings: angst, death, dead body, losing someone, losing faith and hope, suicidal thoughts, dealing with loss, a hint of depression, heartbreak, a mention of eating disorders and sleeping issues, in general - mental disorders caused by losing someone.

A/N: This is my one shot for @deanwanddamons 1k followers celebration. My prompt was "Though my heart is broken, it keeps breaking everyday." but I couldn't stop myself from using some other lyrics of the song. They are written in italics. I’m far away from being the angst queen or an amazing writer for that matter but I did my best! I hope you’ll like it :)

A/N: Thank you to my lovely beta and friend @winchest09 for taking a moment to look at this and assuring me that posting this won't be an insult on the angst. Love you, girl!

A/N: @talesmaniac89 thank you so so so much for those gorgeous dividers!

You didn’t know how long you’ve been sitting there. Maybe a few hours, maybe a few days. You didn’t really care. Nothing mattered anymore. 

Your body went numb from not moving, your chest was barely rising as you almost completely forgot that you have to breathe. Wet trails on your cheeks from streams of tears, eyes red and pinching, your eyelids heavy from a pulsing headache. You were feeling sick and you were sure that if you’d puke, it would burn your sore throat; you were screaming loud as indescribable pain was rending your chest. 

Your knees hurt after hours of being dug into the ground. Your spine was begging to be straightened, your cold skin was yelling for even a little bit of warmth. The clothes you were wearing got soaked and heavy from rain, wet hair stuck to your face and neck; thunder from another upcoming storm shook the earth. But you didn’t listen. The only sound you wanted to hear was his voice as that you would listen to; you would go to hell if this voice asked you to. 

Opening your eyes you knew what you were going to see; but it didn’t stop you. You blindly believed that it’s just some stupid nightmare and when you wake up he would smile at you and calm you down. But it didn’t happen. 

Dean’s cold body lay on the mudded ground, wet and dirty. Head limply turned to the side, eyes closed, lips parted slightly. You stared at his chest for a few agonizingly long seconds, waiting for it to rise up; for him to inhale. A pained grimace appeared on your face when you, once again, realised it wouldn’t happen; he won’t breathe. 

You lifted your head up to the dark sky and yelled from deep within your lungs as another painful wave went through your body. You punched the ground, kneeling next to him, splashing the mud; furious, mad and broken. Then you crowled to him weakly, taking his inert head in your hands, crying and whining. You brushed away his wet hair from his face, leaving dirty lines from your fingers. 

“Dean,” you choked yet again and rubbed your thumbs on his cheekbones. He felt so cold and hard, almost like it wasn’t him. “Baby, please,” you whimpered. “Talk to me…open your eyes.” You waited with stupid hope but again, nothing happened. Crying loudly you pulled him to your chest and hugged tight.

Those eyes. Those full of life, green orbs that would shimmer every time he saw you. They would shine in the sunlight, they were glistening in the evening when you sat together in front of the fireplace, darkening under the cover of the night when the two of you were making love, confessing how much you meant to each other. Green crystals which were the most valuable stones for you. Those eyes will never smile at you again.

Drowning in agony you started shaking, you felt your every cell shattering, falling into million pieces. You were bleeding inside, your heart was screaming, burning from anguish. Your hands fisted his jacket, you clawed to him like you were planning to never let go, like it was supposed to protect you from losing yourself completely. 

Protect you from darkness. 

Suddenly you got stiff. You pulled away, put his head back on the ground and touched his cheek. You tilted your head, your eyes flicking over those familiar features. Gold freckles shedded on his face, light scruff running along his jawline, long lashes you were so jealous of. He was your treasure. Your anchor, your shelter, your home and your safe harbor. He gave you strength, power, a will to wake up every morning, to fight with evil. He gave a sense to your life. 

Who were you without that?

An empty vessel ready to give up. 

Staring at his lifeless figure you turned off your brain; you turned off your whole system. You didn’t cry, scream, you closed yourself on this torture that was waiting to hit you. The only one thing you let get to you was Dean. Memories flashed in front of your eyes; every moment with him, bad or good, every time you shared your thoughts, dreams and plans, you held each other, protected the other; saving lifes, hunting things. 

You have been writing your book since you were twelve and he saved your life. Now you couldn’t save him. Was this supposed to be the last chapter?

“Y/N,” Sam’s broken voice was barely audible in the hum of a rainstorm you hadn’t noticed started. “It’s time.”

Your lower lip wobbled, you were not able to hold back tears and pained whimper as realisation of what comes next hit you. You bent down, closed your eyes and placed a small kiss on his forehead, putting your hand on his heart. For the last time you prayed to feel even the slightest beat under your fingers.

Nothing.

8 months later

"Hey…"

You jerked, detached from the dark world you had drowned in again when Sam spoke, leaning against the door frame.

“Sorry, I didn’t want to scare you,” you looked at him, noticing his worried expression. It wasn’t the first time he found you like this; sitting numbly on your bed, staring into the space. 

“That’s okay,” you said, sending him a small smile which he gave back.

“I left some pizza for you.” Just now you noticed the plate with a few pieces of italian food on it being offered to you by Sam .

Patting the bed you invited him to sit down next to you. You took the plate and stared at the food. You needed the fuel, you knew that; your stomach was sucking itself, grumbling every so often. You had lost a lot of weight, your skin was hanging on bones, your muscles were weak; but you didn’t care. Finding enough will to do something with yourself was impossible. Because, what was the point?

Your point of living was dead. And the only one reason you were still breathing, holding to this life with last strands, was this giant right in front of you. 

“Y/N, please,” Sam whispered and you looked up at him. His sad eyes were begging you to come back. “You have to eat.” You huffed a sad laugh.

“I can’t, Sam.” Putting the plate on the sheets you pulled your knees to the chest. “I can’t swallow anything.”

“It’s not good for you, Y/N/N.”

His voice was so sad and weak that for a second you felt like a bitch for doing this to him. But then you noticed the dark spots under his eyes, attenuate face, sharp cheekbones and glassy, heavy brown orbs. You weren’t the only broken person in this bunker. Not thinking much, you pulled him into a hug, wrapping your hands around his neck as he closed you in his. You both needed this as only you two understood the pain. 

“I’m worrying about you,” he murmured and you smiled.

“I know, I’m sorry.” He squeezed you harder but you pulled away. “But…” he looked at you, cupping your cheeks, checking your face; you knew it was pale and your eyes bloody. “Sam, there is no point to worry.”

“Y/N,” he started the defense, shaking his head.

“Listen to me,” you cut him off and looked in his eyes, feeling your own starting to tear up. “I’m dead, Sammy.” 

He flinched, because of both what you said and how you called him; nobody had used this nickname since that night.

“Stop talking like that,” he warned you but you just smiled.

“You miss him too, I know that. And I know that you suffer, but…” you searched for proper words. “Sam, I lost… that night took away everything from me. In two months it’ll be a year and every day I am losing another piece of what’s left inside.” You touched your chest. “I can’t sleep and when I do, I have nightmares. After I wake up, the fact that he’s not here kicks me again and again. I see him everywhere, he never leaves my mind and it hurts. So much of him is left behind. There are moments I even expect him to walk into the room. But he won’t.” You shook your head and sniffed, feeling tears on your cheeks. 

“But it doesn’t mean you have to be a zombie, Y/N.”

“It does, Sam… Because he was my life…” you felt another wave of pain slowly spreading all over you. “And my life is gone.”

There were not many reasons for you to get out of your room. Sometimes you were so hungry it was unbearable, so you would visit the kitchen, steal some fruit or some leftovers. Bathroom was a must, so was a bar full of whiskey; you were torturing yourself with its taste as it reminded you of Dean but it was also an escape.

You didn’t see the outside world for half a year, every 24 hours of the last six months you spent in the bunker. You weren’t sure if you remembered how to hunt. Sam reduced the amount of cases, he didn’t have much more strength than you. At the beginning you were going through books, papers and the internet, making calls, catching witches and every monster that could know something; just to find a way to bring Dean back. All you got was a collection of dead ends, so you quit and locked yourself in your room. You couldn’t do it anymore, not without him. 

After weeks of crying, screaming, falling apart and fighting with nightmares; yearning for him got so intense that only feeling him would stop you from suicide. So one night, in the middle of the panic attack, you rushed out of your room, stumbling and shaking. Inhaling shallowly, you hit his door before you opened it and dropped to your knees in his room. His scent surrounded you, deepening the wound in your heart but healing the longing at the same time. You struck the drawers, picked up his shirt and held it to your nose, inhaling deeply. That’s how Sam found you, clutching Dean’s shirt on the floor, crying silently. 

Since then you were doing this regularly, not sure why. You were floating around every place you ever walked and everywhere you talked. The Impala that stood unused since her owner didn’t come back. You could spend hours there, sitting in the corner of the passenger seat, staring at the place he used to sit in while you were driving down the road. His wide smile on his face while he sang along with old tapes...

The kitchen where you cooked together, the library table you occupied while cleaning weapons or doing research, or drinking. The map table you threw your bags on after coming back from hunt. Dean’s cave where hours of movies were watched and boxes of pizza were emptied. Your room, your bed where the two of you exchanged your love so many times you forgot the life before being with him. 

One day screaming and crying wasn’t enough. The burden was so heavy you needed to get this all out of you or you were sure the first bullet you’d shoot since that night will end your suffering. Finding a piece of paper and a pen you wrote down everything that what was biting you, addressing the letter to Dean. You didn’t finish it right away; from time to time you would add a new sentence or paragraph, writing letters that you’ll never send and he’ll never see. 

Every line was full of emotions, full of pain and memories. Feelings you wanted to reveal, all those words you wanted him to hear. Letters were your pain, tears were your dots. 

The agony went on and on, slowly killing you inside, leaving behind just a walking vessel. If not for Sam, you would have ended this a long time ago but he gave you this little, tiny kick to wake up the next day. But it didn’t mean the suffering was smaller. Actually, sometimes he made it worse. Watching Sam dealing with his brother's death, the death of the man who raised him, who was a home, a strength, a family - it was just another dagger stuck in your heart. Their bond was one of the most incredible, beautiful things you've seen in your life and now it was broken too. 

Finally, you even got to the point where you were laying on your bed, blankly staring at your phone. It didn’t make any sense and you knew it but you wanted to see his name on the screen so bad that your fingers started trembling. Entering any room in the bunker gave you this stupid, false hope he'd be there. You realised how this place was full of him, how wherever your eyes laid on, it reminded you of Dean. And just then you understood - no matter what you do or where you go, it will haunt you. The feeling of loss, of emptiness, of nonsense. The feeling of regret and guilt that you didn't save him, didn't bring him back. 

"I thought I was strong…" you muttered one day, sitting at the library table, bringing Sam's attention to you. He frowned and looked at you, slightly shaking his head. 

"What?" You tightened the grip on the mug with already cold tea inside and with the corner of your eye you noticed him standing up, then sitting on the chair right next to you. "Hey…" he put a hand on your thigh, assuring you it's okay to speak up.

"I thought I was strong, Sam. I thought I could deal with it, I was telling myself it's just a matter of time and it'll be okay, it'll be normal. Time heals the pain right?" you chuckled pitifully. "But…" you swallowed the lump in your throat. "But it's not better at all, Sammy," you whimpered and looked at him.

Tears in your eyes, worry and pain in his. You opened your mouth but before the right words came out, he managed to brush single drops away from your cheeks with his thumbs, giving you a sad smile. 

"Though my heart is broken… it keeps breaking everyday," you cried out and in a second Sam pulled you into his arms, closing in a tight hug. You clawed at his shirt and allowed yourself to ugly cry, wetting the material. He was shushing you, stroking your hair as you were shaking in his arms. "I can't… I can't take it anymore. I- I can't." 

"Shhh, Y/N… it's okay. We'll figure something out," he promised but you knew Sam himself had stopped believing in it. 

There was no more hope, no faith. You tried everything; there was no door left that you could try to walk through. It was the end. 

Your end. 

There was nothing left except the pain. And the only person who could take this pain away, was the one causing it.

A/N: Thank you so much for reading! I hope you liked it. Feel free to leave some feedback, every word from you is gold :) 

Tags: @deanwanddamons @katehuntington @jay-and-dean @winchest09 @talesmaniac89 @roonyxx @bunkerconfessions @akshi8278 @snffbeebee​

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#deanwanddamons1Kfollowerschallenge #angst #my life is gone #dean winchester #dean winchester one shot #one shot #dean winchester x reader #dean x reader #dean winchester fanfiction #spn fanfiction #death #pain #loss #please forgive me #sam winchester #chocolateheart

[aurelie-celine]

Mi Alma - Part Five

A few years ago, Miguel, Lina, Nestor, and you were laughing together in a restaurant in Florence, Italy. Back then, you thought you would have many other happy moments with them. But then everything changed - was it for the worse, or for the best?

Love, Murder, Friendship, and Trust.

Mi Alma, a story with Miguel Galindo, Nestor Oceteva, Lina Brayer (OC) and Aurélie „Elie“ Gaillard (OC)

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five

Warning: smut

Words: 1983

London, UK – Present

As soon as you open your front door, you see Nestor jumping from your sofa and walking toward you. Without saying anything or giving you the chance to walk away, he kisses you passionately. You take a few seconds to process before kissing him back. His reaction and his words are still hurting, but you also really missed the feeling of his lips and his arms around you. This kiss leaves you breathless, and when he pulls you in his arms, you are burying your face in his chest.

"I'm sorry, Mi Alma. I'm sorry for not believing in you. I'm sorry for thinking that you were playing with me. And I'm sorry for comparing you to Lina. Miguel explained to me why he was here as soon as you left!" he says while tightly his hold on you.

"It was 3 weeks ago, Nes ..." you say while trying to pull away to look at him.

"Yeah, I know ..." He whispers while letting you step back a little. His hands are still holding your waist, ready to pull you back if you decide to reject him.

"So why did you not come sooner?"

"I struggled a bit to process the fact that Miguel could have a Female friend."

You couldn't help yourself but smile at that statement. When Nestor sees it, he leans again to kiss you. It's a lot softer than earlier. He knows you enough to understand that you will not reject him now.

The alarm of your oven interrupts you to signal that the diner that Nestor prepared is ready. While he is dressing the plates, you open a bottle of wine and pour some into two glasses before placing them on your dining table.

As soon as the diner is finished, you basically jump on him. He catches you without any effort and takes you to the bedroom. You strip each other of your clothes. He sits against the head of the bed and pulls you on top. He grabs the back of your head to bring it toward him and kiss you with such a force that you know your lips are going to be swollen tomorrow.

You try to roll, but he holds you tight and whispers: "Ride me."

You grab his hard member and slide down, taking all of him inside of you. A moan escapes your both months at the same time. He seems bigger than you remember, and you have to stay still to get used to the feeling.

Seeing you almost in pain, Nestor cups your cheek and make you look at him.

"Maybe we should do a bit more of foreplays next time," you say softly while kissing his hand.

He was about to say something when you start to move your hips in circles. The feeling makes him pull his head back immediately.

You now bounce on him, his hands running on your thighs until they reach your ass and give you a small spank. You moan at the feeling and close your eyes. He gives you a harder one, and you fall back on him.

"You like that?" He asks you while placing his arms around your waist to hold you tight. He doesn't give you a chance to reply and start to thrust deeper and faster into you. You come almost at the same time, screaming each other names.

----

It is now eight months that you and Nestor are together. Most of the time, you see each other in your apartment, but he manages to organize a few weekends in remote places in Europe. Even if it's not like if the location matters really.

You spent more and more time on foreplays, and you could stay hours in bed with your man. You lost track of the number of beard burns you had between your thighs or bit marks on your chest. You also discover that he is your favorite flavor, and scratching his lower stomach with your nails will always make him twitch deep inside your throat.  

You never spoke about it, but he was already keeping your connection as secret as possible before, so nothing change at that level. Therefore, all the marks you leave on each other bodies have to be in hidden places. You both became really good at that and you are fine with it: you couldn't really go to work with prints of his fingers around your throat. Your waist, was much more discreet.

You were about to enter a meeting still thinking about that when you see an incoming call from a hidden number. As soon as you answer, you smile like a teenager when you recognize the voice.

"Can you take a few days off?"

"Are you organizing another nice weekend?" you ask him playfully.

"He needs you." the seriousness in his voice combined with his words make you shiver.

"I will take the first plane in the morning."

 Santo Padre, USA – Present

After almost a 20-hour journey, you finally reach Miguel's home. You came several times, and even if he always make sure that you feel comfortable, you are still a bit intimated with its size.

Nestor welcomes you at the door and gives you a quick kiss on the corner of your lips. The gestor will typically make you smile, but you can feel that he is tense and looks tired.

"What wrong?" you ask him while taking his hand and giving it a quick squeeze before releasing him. You know most house employees are somehow already aware of your relationship with him, but you also noticed several bikes.

"It's business-related, so I can't give you all the details. He is furious, and none of us can approach him."

"Us?" you interrogate him while following him inside the house toward two men that you never met before.

"This is Marcus, his new advisor, and Bishop, a business partner."

"Nice to meet you, I'm..." Before you have the chance to answer, you hear a loud sound behind the door following by Miguel's voice. You instantly go to the door and enter the room.

"What the fuck are you doing?! I ask that nobody disturb me!" he screams while slapping his hands on his desk.

"Miguel?" you say with a soft voice. When he sees you, he just crashes into his office chair behind him. Any other person over than you will have probably spent a very painful moment for disturbing him, but not you. You are his safe place. You immediately go to him and drop on your knees in front of him. You are putting your hands on his thighs before saying still with your soft voice: "What happen?"

"Elie ... I can't speak about it with you," he tells you while robbing his face with both hands before looking down at you.

"I know, but you can speak with the people standing on the other side of this door. You choose them to be around you, which means that you trusted them and their abilities to do business with you. Is it not the case anymore?"

His features soften at your words. You never push him to tell you about his "job," and you always trusted him. You proved it a few months after what happen in Morocco, in this room.

Gently placing back a lock of your hair behind your ear, he pulls you a bit toward him before leaning down to you and kissing the tip of your nose.

"Thank you."

"That's what friends are for," you say with a smile on your face.

"Yeah ..." he replies while looking at your hands still on his thighs and giving you a wink.

You laugh a bit shily before removing them and standing up. There was never any real sexual tension between Miguel and you; you just happen to be two extremely touchy people. But that doesn't mean that Miguel was not playing with it from time to time, and you have to admit that your hands were a bit too high on his thighs.

After making sure that he was presentable, you ask him if he is ready before opening the door.

"Marcus, come in," Miguels says as soon as you leave the room.

Once the door closes behind Marcus, Nestor comes to you and asks you if you already ate something today.

"Just my usual liter of coffee," you reply with an innocent smile on your face. He breath deeply while shaking his head before bringing you to the kitchen to prepare you a sandwich. As much as he hates when you replace food with coffee, you love when he prepare you something to eat.

"Don't think I didn't notice the bruises," you say pointing at his head and hands. As you say that, you can hear a laugh behind, and when you turn, you notice that the man has some matching ones. Your eyes meet for a moment, and he stops laughing almost immediately.

Bishop walks to you and shakes your hand before saying: "I'm not sure who you are but thank you. It was quite impressive that you manage to calm him so quickly."

"Yeah, she tends to do that," says Nestor while putting the sandwich in front of you. He robs your back discretely so Bishop can't see it and asks you to eat.

You thank him, but before you had the time to say anything else, Nestor asks him to follow him. They go a bit further away to discuss, so you take your phone to check your emails. That was one of your job's advantages, as long as you had an internet connection, you could work from everywhere in the world.

Felling someone looking at you, you check around you and see the man from earlier staring at you. Tall, with tattooed arms, dark hair, and a thick beard, he is a good looking guy, this you have to admit. But you don't know whether you want to hug him or punch him. You see him take a step toward you when Miguel and Marcus get out of the office. They both start giving orders to everyone, and soon after, there is just you, Miguel, Nestor, and Marcus left in the house.

"Marcus, let me properly introduce you to Aurélie. She is one of our dearest friends. Aurélie, Marcus is my new adviser."

"Aurélie? That's an unusual name. Nice to meet you." says Marcus before giving you a quick kiss on both cheeks.

"It's French. Nice to meet you too, Marcus," you reply. You like him; he seems calm and gives you a fatherly feeling.

"How long are you staying?" asks Miguel

"I actually didn't book any return ticket, so I'm not sure yet."

"Well, you know you can stay for as long as you want and use the studio to work."

The rest of the evening is just doing some small talk, but you just want to go to bed with Nestor. You understand he needed to be distant while the other men were still there, but now it's only the four of you. Unfortunately, they still have to speak about some business topic, so you excuse yourself and go to your bedroom. It's not really yours, but you always sleep in this one ever since the first time.

#mayans mc #mayans smut #miguel galindo x oc #miguel galindo #nestor oceteva #nestor oceteva x oc #nestor oceteva smut #aurelie gaillard

[qqueenofhades]

(1/2) Honestly, Hilary, you are a blessing. I want to scream about your amazing Fic, how I love Immortal Husbands and the whole Immortal Family and how I had more fun learning history from your writing than in my whole damn school. But I also want to appreciate your TOG answers and meta. All the more because my friends outside the internet saw TOG as some boring movie with shitty plot and I'm just here in the corner, wanting to scream at someone who will understand about FINALLY seeing...

"(2/2) ...some GOOD queer representation, without throwing stereotypes in our faces, and I can't even begin with the found family trope because THE FEELS. Anyway, what I was trying to say with this rambling: thank you. <3"

....I’m sorry what. Who. Who is saying this. Straight people? I feel like the answer is definitely straight people. Because they have had EIGHTY FUCKING THOUSAND shitty action movies with the Boring White Man Hero, the disposable Muslim-coded (or actually Muslim) villains, the equally disposable eye-candy female love interest who either gets fridged or is secretly evil, Grimdark Everyone Is Secretly Bad And Nothing Matters crap philosophy, Moral Hand Wringing Over Superhero Violence, on and on. So of course they can moan and whine about “iT’s nOt OrIGinAL” and apparently not sufficiently Grimdark and Amoral, and how the dynamics of the team are completely reshuffled in a way that actually doesn’t prioritize THEM, and like.... this is why I never trust media only beloved by straight people, and only ever watch anything after it’s been recommended to me by a trusted queer friend. Because sometimes I remember the difference, and WHOOF.

Because: the gays and people of color DESERVE formulaic action/superhero movies as much as the Generic White Bro (in fact, we can all agree, far more than the Generic White Bro). This is the trap where every piece of media that’s not made by a Mediocre White Man has to be the best all-time of its genre, apparently, rather than using some of the same well-loved storytelling tropes but recoding them and re-deploying them for a more diverse audience. Instead of the Hard Bitten White Man Action Hero, we have Andy and Nile (two women, and Nile as a young Black woman who literally cannot be shot to death, in the year 2020, is fucking revolutionary on its own don’t @ me). As I said in my first meta, even Booker, who comes closest to fulfilling that trope, is made the closest thing to a “villain” there is on the team and even then for entirely sympathetic motives that rest on him having teary-eyed conversations with Nile about how he misses his family and feels like he failed them. His emotions help drive the story in an actually GOOD and useful way, rather than sacrificing everyone else to coddle him through his feeble heterosexual manchildness (why yes, I AM staring directly at the Abomination without blinking). Nobody in the story is EVER penalized or made a fool of for loving their found family (itself an intensely queer trope, even before the queerness of the individual characters) or trying to do the right thing even in the middle of the horrors, and frankly, I just want to consume more media with that as the main message. I’M SO FREAKING TIRED OF GRIMDARK. GOD. IF I WANTED THAT I COULD JUST TURN ON THE NEWS.

And of course, my BELOVED Joe and Nicky: an interracial, interreligious gay couple that has been wildly in love for literal CENTURIES and gives me the opportunity to do things like write the most self-indulgent historical romance backstory fic ever with DVLA. They met in the embodiment of religious conflict and have transcended that, there are never any cruel jokes or expectation for you to congratulate the narrative for being so beneficent as to give you “an exclusively gay moment” (fuck you Disney!). Joe and Nicky’s love story is central both to who they are as characters, doesn’t revolve around them being suffering or being Tormented over being gay (when the cops pull them apart for kissing, they beat the cops the fuck up, WE STAN), gets to unfold naturally in the background of the story with these beautiful little beats of casual intimacy (the SPOONING /clutches heart) and since THEY LITERALLY CANNOT DIE, no chance of the “burying your gays” bullshit. Even when they’re captured first by the bad guys, and I briefly, upon first viewing, worried that they were going the Gay Pain route just for cheap emotional points, they remain constantly united and fighting together and able to do stupid things like flirt when they’re strapped to gurneys by a mad scientist. Then the rest of the team ends up right there with them, so it’s not something that happens to them alone, and Nile comes in to save everyone’s asses, and Joe and Nicky get ANOTHER beautiful moment of fighting the bad guys and being worried about each other and tender even in the middle of this chaos and GOD! MY HEART! MY WHOLE ASS HEART! I LOVE THEM!

And just the fact that it’s not the Evul Mooslim Turrorists or Boilerplate Scary Eastern Europeans or whoever else who are the bad guys, but Big Pharma, nasty white men with too much money and not enough ethics, the CIA (at least tangentially; they could have pushed a lot harder on that but I’ll give Copley individually a pass), and the very forces that want to stop the Old Guard and discount what they do (helping the little people) as worthless... GOD. That is fucking POWERFUL. They literally take the time to explain with Copley’s Conspiracy Wall that even the little things the team does, when they can’t see it themselves, spiral out through centuries and have positive effects down the line. And it’s NOT just in the Western world (no scene in the movie takes place in America, none of the main four characters/heroes are American, and they only go to England when the English villains capture them). They’re in Africa, in Asia, in South America, in all these places where the Western/imperial world order has harmed people the most and in a way that Euro/American audience often gets to forget. On the surface this might be an action movie with Charlize Theron beating up men (which I mean, that alone is fine if you ask me) but there are SO MANY WAYS in which it achieves these deeper moments of meaning and subversion of the narrative that we are so often fed and the ways it could have done this (i.e. the same old Mediocre White Man ways).

I love the fact that the team unabashedly LOVES each other as their family members (I will never get over them all liking to sleep in one room even in their safe house in France), even when they struggle, and that they continue trying to make it right and never consider leaving Booker behind, because he screwed up but they still love him (and he them). I LOVE LOVE LOVE that this movie gave me not just Joe and Nicky but Andy and Quynh: two completely badass queer couples who kick tons of ass and have romance and Drama and rich and well-realized lives outside being used as emotional manipulation or suffering porn for straight people. (I realise it’s only been two weeks since the first one released, but where is my sequel, I have Needs. Especially Andy/Quynh and Quynh/Joe/Nicky needs). I was disappointed that they’d gotten rid of Quynh in a Bad Medieval Way to cause pain for Andy and then shocked and DELIGHTED when she turned up alive in Booker’s apartment at the end of the film. I LOVE that this movie gave me Nile Freeman and everything that she represents in the middle of this hellish year. I even love Booker! BOOKER! When he’s usually the character type I can’t stand and have the least patience with!

So yes. I have watched it three times already. I am sure I am going to watch it several times more. It just makes me so happy.

#the old guard #the old guard meta #joe x nicky #weaverofthenight #ask

[nymphigeon]

From me, to you || 04

♤ Pairing: Taehyung x Reader

♤ Genre: fluff, angst, romance, hybrid au, hybrid!Taehyung, detective!reader

♤ Words: 3.2k

♤ Rating: PG-13

♤ Warnings (for this chapter): swearing, mentions of blood, mentions of hybrid abuse, a panic attack.

♤ A/N: Sorry this was uploaded late, I couldn’t make the deadline T_T

* Chuffing: The sound tigers make when they feel content.

Synopsis: A story in which he has never known love, so you’ll give it to him.

Series masterlist

03 04 05

“Y/N, can we talk in my office?” My supervisor, Ella Baker, stands at the end of my desk. Her blood red lipstick contrasting against her pale skin causes her to look intimidating. Perhaps she did it on purpose. I quickly put my computer on stand-by before standing up and following her into her personal office. She shuts the door after I’ve entered and motions for me to take a seat, while she sits on the side of her desk.

“How’s the hybrid doing?” A careful start to the conversation, no way for me to figure out what she needs from me now. “Doing okay. He’s traumatized, but they’re taking care of him well at the hospital.” She nods at my words. “You did a great job finding the hybrid. Had you not checked the entire area we would’ve missed it.” I don’t care much for her praise. Me finding Taehyung has a completely different value to her than is has to me.

“It’s an important source of information for us. When can we interrogate it?” She really gets right to the point, doesn’t she? I have to hold in a sigh of disappointment. “He gets released tomorrow, the hospital is sending him to a hybrid care centre after.” The words pain me, but as sketchy as the hybrid care centres are, there is nothing I can do on my own… Unless- “Not needed, take this file to the hospital tomorrow.” Unless my supervisor helps me. She hands me sealed envelope with the police symbol stamped on the front.

Truth be told, I don’t want to question Taehyung. I’ve been visiting him every day during his stay at the hospital and have come to know quite a few things about him. Anything that reminds him of the person he used to live with makes him upset. Obviously, he has a lot of negative feelings towards his owner. I’m scared that interrogating him will make him panic. If I told my supervisor though, I’m sure she would definitely not agree to waiting. She wants to catch this offender and she wants it now.

“The hybrid is under our care until it is proven innocent.” She smirks, a scary look crossing over her face. “The envelope contains…. Well you’ll see when you hand it off.” Standing back up, she moves behind her desk and sits on the chair. I know what that envelope contains, she doesn’t have to tell me. I just got ordered to arrest a potential suspect, the very hybrid I’ve grown to care for.

“You’re dismissed.” Her hand lazily waves in the direction of the door. I don’t waste a second, quickly bowing after standing up. Before I actually walk out however, there is just one thing I need to clear up. “He. The hybrid is a he.”

“Well I guess this settles it.” Putting down the file, the doctor sighs. “He is all yours.” The hybrid in question has been swinging his legs as he sits on the side of the hospital bed. A small bag containing the few belongings the hybrid has lays next to him on the ground. He hasn’t been paying attention to our conversation, too occupied with the game on my phone.

I nod to the doctor before turning to Taehyung, who has since noticed our conversation is over. “Leaving?” He hands me my phone back and stands up, taking the small bag off the ground. “Let’s go.” The phone in my hand disappear inside my pocket so my hand is free to hold for the boy. Said hybrid happily accepts the gesture, waving to the doctor, who is extremely confused about the lack of handcuffs, as we walk out the door. As much as this is an arrest, Taehyung doesn’t need to know.

The ride back to the office is quiet, except for the sound of Taehyung nervously tapping whatever he can find. When we’re about five minutes away, I decide to speak up. “Nobody will hurt you, everyone knows the hybrid laws and is trained to keep themselves to it.” And so is every other human being on earth who has been on the internet in the past two years, but I don’t tell him that. The hybrid nods and sends a nervous smile my way.

“I’ll be fine.” He says it more to himself than to me. An unspoken conversation takes place in his head, apparent by the few confident nods he gives. “Yes, I’ll be fine. You’ll protect me.” I don’t reply him in any way after that. No matter how hard I try, I can’t tell him he’s wrong. That back in the office I don’t have any power. I can’t do anything, but something tells me that I will.

The moment we walk into my office we get greeted by my supervisor. She smiles sweetly at the hybrid desperately trying to hide his body behind my smaller form, completely ignoring the state he is in. Much like myself she doesn’t seem to be afraid of Taehyung, in fact, there is almost something mischievous glinting in her eyes.

“This will be your home for a while, if you could follow me I’ll lead you to the place you’ll be staying.” Knowing that Taehyung will not follow her on his own, combined with my distrust for Ella, I start walking behind her. Taehyung follows my steps, staying close to my side. The office is rather empty today, but there are still people watching us, making him uncomfortable.

It doesn’t take long for us to reach our destination. My heart drops at the sight. A thought I’ve been trying to push to the back of my mind calls attention upon itself. As a potential suspect in the case, Taehyung will be sleeping in a cell. I was trained not to pick sides until all necessary evidence is collected, but everything in my body screams for me to defend him.

He didn’t do it, he definitely didn’t kill anyone. Yet still, I have to stand here, watching as the realization seeps into Taehyung, his eyes widening when they land on the bars. He whips his head back in my direction, bringing his hand up to gently, with uncertainty, tug on my uniform. He doesn’t understand what’s happening, silently asking for my help, or even just an explanation of sorts.

My supervisor quickly catches on, giving me a warning look not to let my mouth slip. Any real word of what is happening could send Taehyung running, taking the truth of the murders with him. I swallow down my nerves, focussing on what I had learned during collage.

“It’s just temporarily, we don’t have anywhere else where you could legally stay right now.” A lie, but needed if I don’t want to get scolded. Ella’s warning look turns into an approving smile as the hybrid visibly calms down. His hand still clings to the fabric of my uniform, a voice in his head doesn’t trust the situation. Was he ever kept behind bars? A cage?

Something my supervisor clearly didn’t think of and neither did I. “Is there any chance we could keep the door open?” I despise looking in the eyes of those that I dislike, but I catch myself searching for her’s anyway. Telepathically I try to convey my, as well as Taehyung’s distress. Ella sends me a suspicious look, not knowing what I mean.

Making sure Taehyung is not looking at me, I mouth the word ‘cage’ to her, signing the bars with one hand and quickly tilting my head in Taehyung’s direction. When her eyes squint, I follow up with ‘please’, hoping that somehow she understands what I’m doing this for.

My supervisor sighs, then nods. “We’ll keep the door unlocked, so you can get out at any time.” This seems to persuade Taehyung, letting go of me when Ella opens up the door so he can get in. He takes a few steps forward before looking back at me, like he’s making sure this is okay.

After I’ve given him a nod and a smile, he steps inside tentatively sitting on the bed. “Alright then, we have some things for entertainment on the shelves, so go take a look when you want to. Please do not come out unless there is an emergency. If you have any questions or need anything, you can alert the guards”

With that Ella closes the door, not locking it. She gives the hybrid a small wave before walking past me, whispering the second warning of the day right into my ear. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”

It’s been three days since Taehyung has come here. For the entirety of the three days, I haven’t heard a word from him. When I pass by his cell he simply smiles at me, though it looks awfully forced. I’ve been trying to stay by his side as much as I can, though that proved difficult.

Now that I don’t have to visit the hospital anymore, I’ve been given piles of work to catch up on. Any time I try to check up on him, there is something else keeping me at my desk. Like someone is trying to keep me away from him.

I’ve heard co-workers whispering about the new cute hybrid boy, some even talking about if there is any way they can get him to come home with them. A tiger hybrid at home, many would dream of seeing one in real life, owning one would be like winning a jackpot.

During the small amounts of time I had been able to see him, I’ve been trying to get him to eat. The tray of questionable food usually stood on a small table in the corner untouched. With some of my encouraging he has taken a few bites, though I wonder if he continued eating when I left.

Unlike I suspected, nobody has reached out to me about questioning him yet. Instead, we’re all somehow trying to make sense of the situation with evidence we found at the crime scene. Hybrid hairs found in the room have confirmed Taehyung’s involvement, though they have not cleared him of suspicion.

Somewhere throughout the day after Taehyung arrived, my supervisor managed to get the hoodie Taehyung was wearing the day of the crime from the hospital. It arrived completely unwashed, leaving me questioning what they did with it.

The blood stained the hoodie ended up not belonging to the victims, but there was no one else in our data base that did match with the dna They even looked into the possibility of it being Taehyung’s own blood, despite him not sustaining any injuries that night. Obviously that test came back negative.

It’s not until the fourth day that my supervisor talks to me about questioning Taehyung. “I was thinking, I wanted to switch things up a bit. I know you or someone else usually does the questioning, but I’d like to do it myself.” Nothing in her words indicate that she had any bad intentions, but my distrust for her stays firmly rooted in place. “At least let me into the room with you.” I stopped typing to fully face her, not missing the way she rolls her eyes. “You still want to keep the cub in your sight? Very well, might as well use the help.”

Standing up from her seat on the side of my desk, she motions for me to stand up. “Wait right now?” Nobody ever even uttered a word about the questioning, I haven’t had any time to prepare myself. “Yes. I expect you not to be in my way though, but I’m sure you knew that.” Not waiting for my response, she turns, walking towards the cell area. I quickly scramble to my feet, trying to keep up with her pace.

Taehyung looks up from his place on the bed. The dark circles under his eyes and his pale colour worry me. I make a mental note to work harder so I can see him more often, before giving him an apologetic look. “We would like to ask you some questions, I trust that we don’t have to handcuff you, but make one wrong move and you’re in for a treat.”

I have no idea what Taehyung has been told as he resided here, but it can’t be anything good. He simply nods to her threat, standing up to walk behind her. Everything about the tense air hanging around wants me to just grab his hand and run away from here. I didn’t expect Ella to be so harsh on him, what has happened while I was away?

The questioning rooms sit at the back of the office. My supervisor beckons the hybrid inside, not entering yet herself, turning to me first. “You’re staying out here, you can watch through the window and come in when I say so, understood?” Her face is serious. Having no other choice, I move to the one way window. He can’t see me, he has no idea I’m there, though I really hope he does know.

I see Ella entering, taking a seat at the other side of the table. She clicks her pen a few times before speaking. “As I said, I’m just going to ask you some questions. I’m recording our conversation. You have the right to remain silent, though just know that we can use your silence against you.”

Taehyung looks around the room, clearly uncomfortable in the small space together with her. “What is the name of your owner?” She starts off nice and calm, but she has a demanding aura around her. With his sensitive hybrid senses it must be ten times worse for Taehyung. He opens and closes his mouth a few times, not much coming out.

“I- uumm.. I- I can’t-” Shaking his head, he eyes the table, avoiding the eyes that seem to just see through him. It’s the first few sounds I’ve heard coming from him in a while. I decide I’ve missed his voice, but I also still miss his excitement when he feels safe, which he definitely does not now.

“Okay, then what about your involvement in the crime?” Ella questions just as calmly as her last question. “Did you kill those people?” Her voice is sharp, cutting through the hybrid like blade. “N-no I- I-” His stuttering continues, he can’t get anything out.

“If you didn’t do it then who did?” A different tactic to get the name she’s searching for. Unfortunately, this one doesn’t work either. “No, no, I- I didn’t- I won’t-” His breathing picks up, his distress under her pressure getting more visible now. “What happened inside that room?”

Taehyung wildly shakes his head. “No, no, please-” His chest rapidly comes up and downs, not holding in his breaths for long enough. The lack of responses gets to my supervisor’s head, finally snapping out of the calm facade she has been keeping. It’s knows around the office that if you need pressure, you’ll definitely need her to do the job, but never did I know it could get this bad.

“Give me answers you animal!” Her hands slam down on the table, making Taehyung flinch. When that isn’t enough she stands up so fast her chair almost falls backwards. “Tell me who killed them! Stop being such a whiney little bitch!” Said whiney little bitch falls off of his chair, crawling to one of the corners of the room.

He is full on sobbing now, panic taking over his entire body. He curls in on himself, sprouting out some low pleas about not wanting to be hurt. The ears on top of his head lay flat, his tail wrapped around his waist. It doesn’t stop Ella though, stalking towards him, looking as intimidating as possible like that will get him to talk.

I run to the door as fast as I can, tugging on the handle just to figure out it doesn’t open. She locked it. Desperately trying to remember the code to this specific room, I enter a few wrong ones, before finally getting the right digits. I swing the door open, anger running through my veins.

“Stop this nonsense!” I know shouting will just cause Taehyung to panic even more, but sweet nothings aren’t going to make my supervisor get out. “So you’re disobeying me now? What did I tell you about coming in?” She turns her attention away from the crying hybrid to me. “This is not how you question someone!”

I’m not scared of her. I’m well aware that this could cost me my job, but I know I’m doing the right thing. I swore to always find justice, I am a detective and I will not stand for such outrageous behaviours. “Except that this is not a person, just some filthy animal!” I stalk to her, no hesitation to be found in my steps.

“This is not the way to get anything out of him. This way all you’re doing is scaring him. Give him some time and I promise you I’ll get you the answers you’re looking for.” A nice quality of practicing this type of job is being able to read people well. Persuasion with the promise of what she’s looking for is the way to go.

I’m right. I see the look on her face changing for anger and annoyance to just simply annoyance. She breathes out and gets close into my face. “Get the information out of him before next week or you’re fired.” With that she stomps out of the room, slamming the door behind her and leaving me behind to take care of the hybrid.

I fall onto my knees before him, reaching out a hand to touch him, though I retreat when he flinches. “It’s just me, you’re safe now. She’s all gone.” Taehyung reluctantly lifts up his head a tiny bit, just so he can see me with one eye.

I open up my arms, giving him the chance to accept a hug. He doesn’t waste any time, jumping into me and clinging onto my uniform. Tightly wrapping my arms around him, I rock him back and forth. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry..” His broken voice sounds between sobs. “It’s okay, you didn’t do anything wrong. Everything is okay now.”

Hesitantly I bring up my hand to scratch the back of his ears. I patiently wait for any sign of objection, though it does not come. The hybrid softly bumps his head into my floating hand, giving me permission. Despite the years of negligence, his hair is awfully soft. Perhaps they used some magical shampoo at the hospital.

We sit like this in the corner of the room for what feels like ages. Now and then Taehyung let’s out a chuff*, enjoying the way my fingers scratch his head. I’ve long forgotten the work left on my desk as I do my best to calm the boy down, not caring about the tears staining the top of my uniform. All I need to be focused on right now is him, with the back of my mind cursing the one that left him in this state.

Taglist

@suhappysuho @intellectualxprincess @sana-b

#bangtanarmynet #mikrogalaxynet #btsgoldnet #btsguild #bts #bts scenario #bts fanfiction #bts imagines #bts taehyung #bts fluff #bts fanfic #bts angst #bts hybrid au #bts hybrid fanfic #bts taehyung x reader #taehyung #taehyung fanfic #taehyung hybrid au #taehyung fluff #taehyung angst #taehyung x reader #taehyung scenarios #kpop fanfic #kpop angst #kpop scenarios #kpop fluff #kpop imagines #kpop hybrid au

[libsterslobsters]

Dazed and Confused

Description: Almost a month has past since Bucky and the reader met. Since then, they've had absolutely no contact or communication. What happens when someone decides to make the first move? More importantly: is this a date?

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x fem!enhanced! reader

(Reader can see shards of the future, understand all languages, and process information abnormally fast)

Warnings: Strong language, mostly fluff, mild angst, two idiots who could really benefit from a lesson in basic communication skills

Author's note: As per usual, the reader is unnamed, but when I'm writing, I refer to her as Violet. Also, Bucky Barnes is a poor lost puppy, and you can pry him from my cold, dead fingers before I'll let you hurt him.

*************************************************

 The text comes when he’s ankle-deep in various pipes and tools (he could call the building’s super to fix the plumbing but with this great new thing called the internet, he figured it would be pretty simple to figure out why every time he takes a shower, the bathroom sink fills with sludge), and his hands are so full, he can’t check it. Besides, Bucky reasons with himself, it’s probably nothing. Nobody texts him unless it’s a wrong number or a telemarketer. In fact, at this point, he’s not even sure why he has a phone.

 It takes a full hour to put everything back together (the youtube tutorials he watched made it all seem much simpler than it is), this time sans dead rat in the elbow fitting (he’s trying not to think too hard about that), and by that time, he’s nearly forgotten about the text. It’s only when he checks the time that he sees the alert on his phone. With a tap, he opens his messages, and as he reads the name attached to the latest one, he nearly drops the phone. It’s her.

 He hasn’t seen the woman who has visions in nearly a month. Never expected to hear from her again, if he’s being honest. But there it is: a message with her listed as the contact. It’s not very long; only four words, actually. “Hey. Are you busy?”

 He quickly types, “Why?” but realizes just as he’s about to hit “send” that it’s probably not the best response, all things considered (especially since he really, really wants to see her again… despite his better judgment). Alright, he needs to concentrate. Possibly, “That depends. What’ve you got in mind?” No. That’s too suggestive. Too flirty. Although he is flirting… sort of… maybe… he hasn’t figured that out yet. Finally, he decides to go with a simple, “No.” There. No way that can be misconstrued or make her uncomfortable (which is the last thing he wants to do). Unless she takes into account that it took him an hour to reply. Dammit. How do you even go about talking to a pretty girl these days? Is there a YouTube video on that?

 Two minutes tick by. Then five. Then fifteen. He’s almost decided she’s not going to respond when his phone chirps again. “Sorry. Got caught up grading a paper.” This time, he’s fast on the draw. “That’s fine.” But not fast enough, because before he can hit send, another message appears. “This may be weird, but would you want to meet up? It’s okay if not. I just don’t know many people, so…” So…? That’s it? Is he supposed to wait for her to finish the thought or come up with a witty reply? How the hell does he do this?

 Finally he comes up with another simple response. “When?” Great. He’s a monosyllabic wonder. It’s been a long time, and he can’t prove it (you know, because everyone who could bear witness to it is either ancient or dead) but he’s fairly certain he used to be better at this whole “talking” thing.

 Less than thirty seconds pass by before there’s another message. “Now.” Now? Now! Okay, yeah, that’s fine. The shower’s fixed, so maybe he can hose off and change clothes fast enough that it won’t cause much of a delay. But he also hasn’t shaved in… when was the last time he shaved? At least he did laundry two days ago, so he has something clean- another ding. “Or, you know, whenever.” followed by… a yellow smiling face with a bead of sweat. What does that mean? Why is the face yellow? Once again, a ding. “What I meant is, I have this afternoon free. If you do too, that would work fine. No pressure.” No, he’s free pretty much for the foreseeable future. He should probably say something back sooner rather than later.

 “Where?” No, that’s too short. “Where would you like to meet?” There. Better. Maybe. When did people stop talking on phones and only… texting? You used to be able to tell where a person stood because you could hear their voice. Now it’s all guesswork. God, he’s old. Definitely too old to be possibly thinking about her like-

 “Wherever is fine. We could do a coffee shop again, or my apartment. Whatever’s most convenient for you.” Ball’s in his court. Um… he’d really rather not be out in public. For now, he’s safe (at least as far as he can tell), but it’s always a gamble, him betting against himself that his simple disguises will work, he won’t be recognized. That leaves… oh boy.

 “Your place, if that’s alright.” That’s forward. Maybe too forward. She offered, but maybe that was just being polite? More importantly, is this a date? No. Can’t be. Possibly. Oh my god, what’s wrong with him?!

 “Sure.” the words are followed by a string of numbers and a street name. “Just give me half an hour to make the place presentable.” Another yellow, sweaty smile. He really needs to look up what that means.

 “Alright. See you then.” He presses another button and the screen goes black. Thirty minutes. What can he do in thirty minutes? As he catches sight of his reflection in the mirror, he makes a decision. Start with getting the sewage off his face.

___________________________________________________________________________________

 “What the hell is the matter with me?” She mutters it to herself as, for the fourth time in ten minutes, she chances her clothes. “This is NOT a date. Not a date.” Just two lost souls swimming in a fishbowl… she shakes her head. She needs to get a grip. Now. Because this is definitely not a date. Barnes might be many things, but at all interested in her THAT way is not one of them. How could he be? She’s… weird. And damaged. Not that he’s all there either, but the possibility of this being anything more than a potential friendship? Uh-uh. No way. She doesn’t need to see the future to know that much.

 A knock on her front door makes her jump, immediately hating herself. Why is she nervous? There’s nothing strange about this. People meet up all the time to talk and eat… in one or the other’s apartment… after finding out they both have special abilities. Okay, all of this is pretty strange, especially since it’s her.

 After taking one last glance in the mirror (and smoothing down her hair that’s sticking straight up, thanks to switching out her shirts so many times), she steps out of her bedroom and makes her way towards the door. Not a date, she mentally repeats to herself. No reason to be nervous. Not a date.Then why the hell is she shaking a little? She needs to get a grip. Now.

 Taking a deep breath, she pulls the door open (as it so happens, just as the man on the other side raises his hand to knock again).

 “Hey. You made it.” That sounded almost normal. Not like she’s quaking in her boots.

 “I did.” He’s smiling, so she must not sound as awkward as she feels.

 “Did you find the place okay?” Wow. She sounds like she’s reading from a script. A really boring script at that.

 “Yeah. There’s this thing called GPS now, and…” He trails off. “You probably already know about that.” Great. Now they’re both fish out of water.

 “I do. Super helpful.” It occurs to her that she’s just leaving him standing in the hallway, so she asks, “Would you like to come in?” Oh my god. Her brain. Where is it?

 “Thanks.” He doesn’t make a move, and that’s when she realizes she’s still blocking the doorway. Dumb-ass. Trying not to seem awkward, she walks backwards, promptly running into her kitchen chair.

 “Ouch.” Bucky winces, and she wishes the floor would open up and swallow her.

 “Graceful as an elephant.” She murmurs it under her breath, but a snicker from the man behind her lets her know it’s been heard. Right. Super hearing.

 “That should turn into a nice, purple bruise by tomorrow.”

 “Oh, yeah?” She calls it over her shoulder. “Do you see the future by any chance?”

 “Nah.” He shakes his head, grinning. He has a nice smile. No, she needs to stop thinking like that. Right now. “I’ve just had a lot of experience running into things.”

 They’ve gone so far into the room that they’ve walked straight past the tiny kitchen into the living room. She wasn’t really intending to jump straight into, “Why don’t we sit on the couch, which happens to barely be big enough for two people”, but there’s no way to work, “Let’s retrace our steps into the kitchen” into conversation smoothly, so she takes a seat, scooting as far to one side as she can.

 “I thought super soldiers were supposed to be agile.” Thank god, he’s sitting too.

 “They are, but for around twenty-eight years before that, I was as clumsy as the next person.” Immediately, he freezes. “Not that you’re clumsy-” So maybe she’s not the only one out of practice in the fine art of making friends.

 “No, you had it right. I am.” He still looks a little unsure so, ignoring the little voice in her head screaming, “Don’t do it! You’re coming on too strong!” she leans towards him. “Actually, that new bruise is the latest of at least five others I currently have, and I can’t remember how I got any of them.” Does that make her sound weird? But no, he seems to be rolling with it.

 “Haven’t you ever heard of looking where you’re going?” She goes out on a limb, assuming he’s joking.

 “I’ve heard of the concept, but I’m usually too busy looking ahead, so-”

 “Fair point.”

 There’s a lull in the conversation. It goes on so long, that she blurts out, “Are you allergic to anything?” just to fill the silence.

 “Huh?” He frowns. “Don’t think so. Why?” There actually is a reason, but now that she thinks about it, how would he be allergic to anything? If her frantic googling is correct, whatever Captain America is hopped up on took care of all physical weaknesses, so it’s unlikely Barnes will suffer anaphilactic shock due to something in her kitchen.

 “I cooked, and…” She trails off. “… never mind.”

 “Oh.” Now she really wishes her “power” had something to do with disappearing. “Thanks, um-” he clears his throat. “-was I supposed to bring anything? I thought about flowers, but-” he scratches the back of his neck, and if she had to guess, she’d say he’s nervous too.

 “No, just yourself.”

 “Great, because that’s all I brought.” Splendid. Neither of them know how to hold a conversation.

 Finally, she decides to just come out and say it:

 “I’m not good at this sort of thing.” He looks mildly confused, so she explains, “Talking to people. That is, unless I’m teaching them.”

 “I don’t think I am either.” She starts to ask, “You don’t think?” but reels it in. Apparently, her face must show what she’s thinking, because he continues. “This is the most of it I’ve done in a long time.”

 It’s completely inappropriate, but she laughs.

 “Same for me. Hiding out to avoid capture doesn’t really leave many opportunities to practice your social skills, does it?”

 He chuckles.

 “Not unless I’m doing it wrong.”

 It may be a mistake, but she decides to make a suggestion.

 “You know, I think I heard from someone that there’s this really great solution when two people are in a room together and are out of practice holding a conversation.”

 “What’s that?” At least he doesn’t seem offended.

 “Watching a movie.”

 “Huh.” He nods. “That was the go-to when the cat’s got your tongue back in my day too.” Good, so it’s not a foreign concept. “I’m afraid I don’t know of any theaters around here though, or even what’s playing.”

 “Not a problem.” As she says it, she powers up her laptop “Any preferences? They’ve got pretty much anything if you know where to look.”

 He thinks for a minute, then asks, “Fantasia? Do you think they have that?” It’s an unexpected request; out of all things, the ex-soldier wants to see a Disney movie.

 “I’m sure they do. Give me a second.”  Luckily, it’s on the first service she tries.

 As the opening credits play, she struggles not to laugh at how wide his eyes go.

 “How did you-”

 “It’s on Netflix.” Nothing. He doesn’t know what that is. “It’s a website. I just typed in what I wanted to find, and there it is.”

 The only sound for a few minutes is the swelling music coming from the speakers, then finally, Bucky murmurs,

 “I don’t think I’ve been using the internet to it’s full potential.”

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 “Really?” Somehow, over the course of the evening, they’ve stopped sitting stiffly next to each other and watching their words. Now she���s turned towards him, a plate balanced on her knees, both of them completely ignoring the movie playing in the background. “A rat in your pipes? Are you serious?”

 He nods.

 “Afraid so.”

 “How the hell did it even get in there?”

 “Beats me. I didn’t ask it.”

 She’s got a great laugh, Bucky thinks to himself. It’s the kind of laugh that makes you want to give into the giggles too.

 “That’s probably for the best. From the sound of things, it wasn’t in any condition to answer your questions.”

 He’s about to shoot back a reply, but then he remembers.

 “That reminds me-” Careful not to elbow her (this sofa is barely a sofa; he’s not complaining though, because now that the ice has been broken, it’s actually kind of nice being close to another person again), he digs his phone out of his pocket and pulls up her texts from earlier. “-what does this yellow face mean?”

 She frowns and leans towards him (she smells like cinnamon, maybe cloves… it’s not weird that he’s noticed that, right?).

 “Oh.” Again, that laugh, but quieter this time. “It basically means, ‘I’m second guessing what I just said and I hope it didn’t come off the wrong way.’”  That makes sense, given the context, but he still has another question.

 “But why is the face yellow?”

 Her brow furrows slightly as she thinks.

 “You know, I’m really not sure. That’s just how most emojis look.”

 “Emojis?”

 “May I?” She indicates his phone.

 “Sure.”

 With a brief tap to the screen, a full page of yellow faces (amongst other odd symbols) appears.

 “These are emojis. They sort of add interest to a text.”

 “Huh.” Taking back the offered phone, he studies the symbols. “That would’ve been useful to have when we sent telegrams.” As soon as he says it, he realizes how he sounds. “I just dated myself, didn’t I?”

 She smirks.

 “Just a little, but don’t worry. It’s charming.”

 He places a smile on his face and laughs lightly, but on the inside, he’s still trying to figure out whether or not this is a date. Is she, against all odds, actually interested in him, or is she just being kind? Two hours later when the clock strikes nine, he’s still not sure.

 “Well, I hate to kick you out, Bucky, but I have a student coming by tomorrow at seven a.m., so I need to get to bed.” Has he overstayed his welcome? But no, she doesn’t look offended.

 “Sure. No problem.” He stands and, without thinking, offers her his hand to pull her up, which she takes. How long has it been since he’s touched another person, or another person has touched him, like that? A casual gesture that normal people with simple secrets share?

 “Thanks for the meal, by the way.”

 “Oh, no trouble.” She still hasn’t let go. “Did you want to take some leftovers with you?”

 “No, that’s okay.” Yes, he really does want to (its much better than what he usually comes up with on his own) but if he had to venture a guess, she probably doesn’t have the funds to be giving away food willy-nilly.

 “Alright.” She pulls her hand away, and immediately, he feels colder.

 They walk single file towards the door (this apartment is too small for them both to pass through  shoulder-to-shoulder), her right behind him. As he pulls open the door, he tells her,

 “Thanks again for everything.”

 She chuckles.

 “Thank you for the conversation.”

 He’s about to say something more (although he’s not sure what) when she wraps her arms around him in a hug. It takes a second for him to realize what’s happening, but then he returns the embrace.

 It’s over far too quickly, and when she stands back, her cheeks are flushed.

 “Be careful on your way home.”

 “Will do. Have a good night.”

 On the bus ride home, he plays over the events of the evening. He’s still uncertain as to whether or not it was a date. He feels like it was, but it’s been so long… time to consult the internet. As it turns out, there’s quite a few websites that offer opinions on the subject. He finds one that has a quiz attached and, calculating how much time it’ll take him to get home, decides to take it.

 The questions are pretty generic, and he gets through them in under two minutes. Waiting for the result to load, however? He’s back in his apartment before he gets a solid answer on that. There’s a graph showing how they measure each factor, but the final result is stands at, “You’ve been on a date- likelihood, 99%.” Huh. First time in seventy years. Maybe he’ll give the whole “texting” thing another go.

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 Morning dawns far too early for her liking, and with it, her memories of last night return. It was going okay. Really it was. Until she hugged him, that is. Oh my god. Why couldn’t she show some common sense for once? Friends don’t hug goodbye, especially not, “I’m just getting to know you” friends. She’s never going to hear from him again because she came on too strong, and now he really doesn’t want to have the, “I’m not attracted to you” conversation.

 As she makes a cup of tea, a scene plays out before her eyes. The phone dings with a text alert under the name “Barnes.” She doesn’t realize it’s a vision until that exact thing happens ten seconds later. “Wow. So helpful. Really.” She mutters to herself. It’s almost as useful as someone yelling “Duck!” just as you get hit in the head.

 She really shouldn’t read the message. She has a job to do, a student to teach, and if she’s distracted during their lesson, she’ll feel terrible. But, another “ding” sounds and curiousity gets the better of her.

 The first text is simple: “Good morning” followed by… she has to choke back a laugh… several various smiley faces. Guess he’s decided to give emojis a go. “Hope your class goes well today.” Shaking her head, she scrolls down to the next message. “Last night was fun. Would you want to do it again sometime?”

 “Well, I’ll be damned.” She whispers as her fingertips make contact with the keyboard. Maybe he didn’t take it as her trying to make something happen between them that never will. Or maybe he’s just been away from normal human interraction for so long, he’s accepting whatever she throws at him simply so he’ll have a friend. Either way, she likes him and would like to know him better, and if that means swallowing down the silly crush that’s starting to develop, she can do that.

 “Good morning. That sounds great.” She types back, then puts her phone on silent. Certain areas of her life may be changing, but for now- a knock sounds on her door- class is in session.

#marvel #bucky x y/n #bucky fanfic #bucky x reader #the winter soldier #avengers #captain america