#the whole ‘going out swinging’ he didn’t even go out dramatically because he got fucking impaled

[ceilingfan5]

thinkin about bard kravitz

“I’ve got secrets to spill, revenge to fulfill, I’m sure you expected some discretion, But you kept me awake, gave me a headache, So forgive just a bit of aggression.

But while I tried to sleep, I stayed awake, counting sheep, With no way to block out the loud moaning. It couldn’t be missed; we all heard your tryst, And now the whole town will know you were boning.

Aw, don’t be nervous, I’m doing you a service, Your wife will surely be pleased to know. The mayor fucked the cobbler, can’t hide it any longer, You’re welcome, it’s my pleasure, gotta go!!”

Kravitz strums his lute dramatically, and then appears to burst into ravens and completely disperse. The assembled crowd goes absolutely nuts, and Taako is easily able to slip away, laughing his ass off, and trail the bard’s invisible steps back to the big meaty oak tree behind the inn. 

The din of the mayor’s protests and wild accusations from the people who aren’t so happy with him fades a bit, and Taako peers up at the crunching noise coming from the tree. 

“Hail and well met,” he hollers, maybe a bit too loudly. “That was one hell of a performance.” 

“Shh-” Kravitz invisibly hushes. “Don’t let them know I’m up here!”

“That apple you’re smackin’ on didn’t do the trick, bud?” Taako snickers. “You mighta fooled everyone in town with that illusion, but I know a bit of magic when I see it.” 

“You know when to shut your mouth?” Kravitz hisses. He drops the apple core, and it falls out of invisibility as Taako sidesteps it and it bounces off the ground. 

“Categorically nah,” Taako drawls, amused with himself. “But you won’t mind, gorgeous. I’m looking for a bard. Are you looking for a job?”

“What kind of job?” Kravitz swings out of the tree and drops back into view across from Taako, and Taako sizes him up. Yeah. Perfect for the job. They’re gonna get in so much trouble. “Because I don’t do ventures where I’m the bait anymore.”

“Shame,” Taako quips, “I’ll bet you were a master baiter. Nah, what I need is a fool with some acting chops. I need to sneak into the castle, and my old party fucked off to greener pastures with softer cowpies. And it’s not the kind of thing a guy wants to put on Craig’s List.” 

Kravitz folds his arms and squints at Taako. Man, he is handsome. That definitely won’t be an issue, though, because he’s clearly some kind of stupid asshole. 

But you know, takes one to know one. 

“What sort of pay?” 

“Forty percent,” Taako says, wishing he didn’t have to. 

“Fifty-fifty.” 

“You don’t even know what we’re stealing!”

“But I know we’re stealing something, and I’m pretty loud–” 

“Fucking hells,” Taako snaps. “Fifty-five, forty-five.”

“Fifty-fifty,” Kravitz insists. “Unless, gUARDS-”

“You shut your whore mouth!” Taako hisses. “Aren’t they looking for you too?”

“Ah,” Kravitz says, putting his hands on his hips. “So true. How fast can you run?” 

Taako might have made a mistake.  

#taakitz fic #taakitz #tazb #the adventure zone #taz #the adventure zone balance #fan5fics #taz balance #👁️👁️

[whatareyoudoingwithamaserati]

hello. character asks:

2, 4, and 7 for princezam

17 and 30 for one seth gordon. enjoy (:

I AM GOING TO BITE YOU <333 it is Autism Time alright alright okay!!!!!!

PrinceZam!

2) When I think I truly started to like them

Honestly, the exact moment slips me! He got in my head one day and then he Did Not Get Out. I did run back through my discord channel and apparently an hour and a half after starting Zam’s s3 POV I messaged “WHAT IS THIS, THE BULLY ZAM SERVER????” so I think about then! (I had already watched Clown’s POV and thought that Zam was oooo such an asshole oooo for his whole building walls bit and then you watch Zam and he is so wet and pathetic that all of a sudden he did nothing wrong ever) It did not take me long to go ah. Yeah this is The Guy. I’m gonna make a plushie of him and throw it at walls

4) How many people I ship them with

SO many people. SO many fucking people. I think if princezam makes it on a server and doesn’t act like a raging gay then he will crumble to ash and fall apart in the wind. That said I am particularly fond of the idea of clownzam. They’re two guys committed to a bit defined by their usernames (clown) (prince) while also somehow managing to be mortal enemies and homoerotic losers at the same time. Would love to see more out of them

7) A quote of them that you remember

Okay so this one is. Not even going to be remotely serious despite his ability to be gutwrenching and dramatic. There’s a lot of Zam quotes I love and remember (shoutout “YES! YES! YESSSS!! VINDICATION!!!!” my beloved) but there is one in particular. that I cannot escape from. One that frequently comes to mind. Hey guys. Uhm. “YO. LEO. LEO. IF YOU DON’T STOP SWINGING THAT SWORD AT ME RIGHT NOW MAN I SWEAR TO FUCKING GOD I’M GONNA KICK YOUR ASS MAN I’M FUCKIN- I GOT I GOT I GOT LIKE FIFTEEN PEOPLE ON ME I’M NOT CLOWNPIERCE I CAN’T WIN THIS Y’KNOW LIKE I’M GETTING MY ASS BEAT I’VE GOT LIKE EVERYONE ON ME I DON’T KNOW I’M JUST SPAWNING PHANTOMS. I’M JUST TRYING TO SPAWN PHANTOMS. I DON’T SEE THE ISSUE. I PERSONALLY DON’T SEE THE ISSUE. I PERSONALLY DON’T EVEN SEE THE ISSUE I’M JUST TRYING TO SPAWN A COUPLE MOBS LIKE I DON’T EVEN SEE WHAT’S GOING ON—“

^^clip because his voice SELLS that shit. Luv this guy <3

Seth Gordon (the man the myth the legend <333)

17) What do you think their first word was?

For the jokes, I want to say his first word was fuck. His parents didn’t really care much about keeping their language in check, and I see him as one of the middle-younger kids of a big family, so all of his older brothers would be swearing already, and it would rub off on him. For the non jokes….. I think I would say his first word was dada. Give me a daddy’s boy Seth who had his father be his whole world for so many years only to be disappointed in the end that his father was just a man after all. He’s a Fox for a reason

30) The funniest scene they had?

OH MY GOD OKAY SO. Personally I am a fan of every scene he is in, and I think among his funniest are the ones where he drops everything to slug Kevin in the face. That said I think the funniest one is when he straight up hears Kevin's name and drags his ass out of deep sleep so he can fight him. There is NOTHING like a man and his homoerotic enemy who he hates with everything in him. Or maybe his funniest scene is the iconic "are you stupid" "yes" I'm sorry Seth you gotta deal with Neil being an absolute dumbass I'm not sure what else you expected. OR when Neil asked if Andrew and Renee were a thing and Seth looked like he might vomit. Or him flipping off their opponents and then Kevin. OR—[I am forcibly dragged off the stage. He could raise an eyebrow and I would probably find it funny]

#BELOVED!!!! THANK YOU SO MUCH!!!! #rotating the guys around in my head. i can be so normal about them both (i will froth at the mouth at any given opportunity) #(we do not talk about jepexx) #holland !! #<- i hope it is okay to keep that as your tag. I can also change it to Lucas

[lovecolibri]

Would love to hear your thoughts about the BT breakup scene if you feel like it (I thought they didn't do enough with it and it was barely worth all the build up), and also what you think of their final goodbye moment which had me like :/// like, the way she touched him?? And kind of smiled and shook her head at him?? And he kind of smiled back at her? Wtf? As if they're these amicable lovers tragically torn apart by circumstance, parting on good terms or something?? WAY too nice and friendly for my liking. Not at all the vibe I hoped for from bt ending tbh.

*deep sigh* Look, am I thrilled it’s finally fucking over? Yes. Did I cheer, toast my grandma with our champagne and post a lot of petty ass memes? Absolutely. Did I think it was worth all the fucking screentime they wasted on her and the way the drug Buck’s character down to keep it going long enough for this moment. Not even a little bit.

Yes the costume callback to the eddieana breakup was great, yes Buck getting to be angry and being the one to end things was nice, but there was SO much there that wasn’t even touched on?! The cheating plot looks beyond pointless, even if they had kept in all the “flirting” and “poking” because it had nothing to do with the breakup. Also what was the whole dramatic “I have nowhere else to go” and “you trapped me here” BS all about if she ultimately left with zero fight and zero problems?

Also, Buck saying he was questioned by the LAFD brought up a really interesting point and bit of contention that didn’t get brought up either! And a single line drop that a lot of people missed means the reason for Buck being upset and deciding this was the thing he couldn’t move past with tay kay went over many viewers heads if a lot of the comments I’ve been seeing are to be believed. Buck losing the 118, losing his family is important, but they were ultimately okay(ish) and tay kay clearly believes she did “good” in getting the “truth” out there since the guy was caught and couldn’t physically hurt them at that point. But it wasn’t just about that! People keep siding with her because she was just doing her job, but she wasn’t! She doesn’t work for the NY Times or CNN, she’s a local station breaking news reporter. It wouldn’t have mattered if “someone else” got the scoop first. A) because he whole thing was people’s lives being in danger and if that was actually what she was concerned about it wouldn’t have mattered who broke the story as long as people were safe AND he was not currently a threat to public safety, and B) no one else COULD have gotten the scoop because the LAFD wouldn’t have commented to anyone in the press about an ongoing investigation. BUT she easily could have gone to the LAFD and told them she knew people involved and asked if when they were ready to release info if she could do exclusive interviews. She might have been able to swing that without anyone getting in trouble.

Had Jonah not taken Hen and Chim and the LAFD determined he was a danger to the public, he would have been brought in for questioning and there likely would have been some info released, but there is a reason the line “I can’t comment on an on-going investigation” exists. His case spans multiple states and departments with possibly thousands of potential victims. Tay Kay leaked information about an ongoing investigation that could have jeopardized the investigation or at least muddied the waters, and could have gotten Buck, Hen, and Chim, possibly even Bobby and Athena in trouble for talking to the press about it. Buck was angry because he could have lost his job, his identity and purpose that he finds in being a firefighter, as could have his friends because he told them she was trustworthy. She put all their jobs in jeopardy and THAT’S why he’s so upset. But we didn’t get to see that because we apparently needed 3 emergencies in the finale instead of actually focusing on our main characters and wrapping up their strorylines. 🙄

And don’t even get me STARTED on their final scene in the montage. What TF was the point of Buck finally getting to be even a little bit angry, or them having her character be shown to still care about no one but herself and nothing but her job, if they were STILL going to show them having an amicable split?! And I’ve seen the comparisons of her touching him with the eddieana breakup scene, but even that is so incredibly different?! Like, Eddie is so tense and that moment is so viscerally uncomfortable to watch because he does not want that woman putting her hands on him. And he wasn’t even MAD at her! He’d just realized the relationship wasn’t what he wanted or needed. But Buck was justifiably pissed. People he loves got hurt, he got questioned at work, but sure let’s have them end on a sweet note. That man should have been staring out the window as she left the key on the counter and we see him breathe a sigh of relief when he hears the door close. 

It’s just so fucking clear that she was always one of KR’s pet characters and BT was her pet project and no matter what she wanted to leave it amicable even though it really, really shouldn’t have been. She is the master at undercutting the narrative and the emotional beats. We saw it with what she did with 4x14 and wedging tay kay and BT into an episode that SHOULD have been about Eddie and we saw it again here. She even said that even though BT are for sure done, tay kay could come back. So that explains the amicable split even though Buck deserved so much better than having to still be friendly with her after being miserable all season. 

She’s gone, and Buck got to be a little angry and got to be the one to end it. But satisfying it was NOT. Not after everything we had to suffer through to get her, not after all the screentime wasted on her character when this could have ended this way AGES ago, not after watching her suck the light and life out of Buck all season, and certainly not after them dragging Buck’s character down and turning him into a liar and a cheater for what turned out to be no reason at all. 

#my sweet not so anonymous friends #911 #911 spoilers #evan buckley #anti bucktaylor #anti taylor kelly #evan buckley deserved better and so did we #he deserved to talk about being miserable and the way she always talks down to him #he deserved to talk about her jeopardizing his job and the lives and jobs of people he loves for a story #but at least she's gone and we buck and oliver are out of our misery as is eddie #so there's that

[yolki-palki]

For the ask game my friend: How Deep the Water and Memento Mori. Also, even though I'm 99% sure I misunderstood what you meant by the drawings: Illustration_120

<3

How Deep the Water

How Deep The Water is the WIP of the sequel to Sloom which grapples with recovery both of physical and psychological kind. It addresses a lot of Geralt's trauma. If you haven't read Sloom I won't spoil it for you here. But here is a snip from How Deep The Water, titled after the song Deep the Water by Lewis Watson.

"What is wrong with you?" 

"Nothing." Geralt snapped, practically growling. 

"Right." Jaskier nodded solemnly. "Wanna try that again? The truth this time."

Geralt couldn't seem to form the words, his thoughts suddenly tangling up in a knotted mess twisting tighter and tighter around his lungs.

"Do you wanna talk about it?" Jaskier took another step closer, careful to avoid the shards of ceramic scattered across the tile.

"Nothing to talk about." Geralt wished Jaskier would shout and scream. Wished that he would strike him. He'd give anything to feel anything but this. 

"We both know that's not true." Jaskier reached for him but Geralt pulled away as if the gentle touch would burn.

"Fuck off, Jas — I'm fine."

The look Jaskier gave him sparked a rage that made Geralt want to put his fist through the small single pane window above the sink.

"Fuck off." It was a warning, the best Geralt could manage to grind out through gritted teeth.

"Yeah, because you always screech at me to fuck off when you're fine." Jaskier tried to raise his voice to match Geralt's but it broke and with it something inside of Geralt's chest gave way.

"Talking about it won't change what happened." He was screaming now, shredding his voice and hearing it crack in his throat and he couldn't seem to stop it. "Talking won't change the fact that I wasn't there, that I left you alone, that you almost died — I almost let you die.”

(idk why the formatting looks all fucky-wucky but oh well)

Memento Mori

Memento Mori is another in the series of cat!Jaskier fuckery fics in my WIP folder.

(Fun fact, the entirety of Memento Mori found its way into a document other than the one it was written in somehow, and in the process I found a very strange bit I began writing one night about a modern AU that I completely forgot about where Jaskier is bemoaning his not-quite-break-up with his definitely-not-BF when he got left at a truckstop in the middle off buttfuck nowhere to his buddy Lambert lol)

“I seem to recall you claiming that you came after me? Or was that a lie like everything else you’ve said?” 

“I’ve never lied to you, Geralt and it wounds me that you would accuse me of such.” Jaskier’s voice trembled and Geralt rolled his eyes, feeling an odd sense of embarrassment at simply being in the presence of Jaskier’s performance to the empty graveyard. “But since you asked so very sweetly, I shall tell you.”

Jaskier paused, lifting his head from where it was cradled in the marble lap of another angel, billowing robes carved into the white stone, his leg swinging lazily back and forth like the tail of a cat. “Now that? That was a lie. You didn’t ask sweetly at all, you’re being a bit of a prick about it to be perfectly honest. I have, much to your explicit good fortune, reneged on that contract. I’d say it’s nothing personal, but we both know that’s a lie.” 

“Dangerous.” Geralt hummed. 

“Oh, quite. But I do like a challenge and would gladly pit myself against Queen Calanthe’s army any given day.” He emphasized the last three words with three loud and unrefined whacks as his boot hit the base of the statue.

“Calanthe, hmm?” 

Fuck. That was bad news, very bad news.

“Oh my! Did I say Queen Calanthe, the Lionness of Cintra? Well, damn my careless tongue.” Jaskier held his hand to his mouth, lips forming a pretty little ‘o’ in feign surprise. 

“Hmm, one incredibly unstable Cat against the whole of the Cintran armed forces? What could possibly go wrong.” 

“Ha!” Jaskier waved the hypothetical away with a dramatic flourish of his hand. “If that impudent child wishes to cut off my head and piss down my bloodied throat, she’ll have to catch me first.”

“I can’t help but notice you didn’t refute the claim that you are incredibly unstable.”

Jaskier shrugged as if the implication were so obvious it didn’t deserve a response. “Oh, and you forget Skellige as well, she took Eist Tuirseach as a concubine or something of the sort.” Throwing a finger up to the sky he let his arm fall to hang over the cradled arms of the graveyard angel, his other arm behind his head toying with his hair. “And now she has the Skelligen navy at her beck and call. But you already knew that, didn’t you, butcher?”

Geralt stopped dead in his tracks. 

“Naughty little dog. And you walk around as though you’ve done no wrong in this life. Shame on you. He who treats me as some sort of depraved thing. At least I don’t go running around laying claim to unborn royal babies.” 

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” Geralt hated the sour clench of his gut and the way he ground the words out between his teeth.

“What kind of man snatches a baby and then changes his mind? Either claim her or don’t but you invoked the law of surprise and now you must rise to the occasion.”  

“Her?” Geralt found himself saying. 

“Yes. A bright, young girl, she is. Though she’s dreadful at knucklebones.”

Geralt physically shook the thoughts from his head, refusing to entertain even the idea of his child surprise. 

"She's better off in the care of Queen Calanthe and we both know that." 

“That’s certainly a possibility. I’d like to think even the likes of me would make a better father than you.” 

“Is that so?” Geralt laughed so hard his ribs began to ache. “You shouldn’t be allowed within sword’s length of any child.” 

Jaskier scoffed indignantly and Geralt only laughed. 

“Far worse an influence than any beast and more dangerous than any wild animal I’ve ever seen.” 

“Yes, but for all my faults I wouldn’t have abandoned her as our mothers so coldly abandoned us.” 

Geralt was getting really fucking tired of this conversation. He stood from where he knelt and with a warning growl, tossed his leather satchel back over his shoulder, adding a very spirited, “I hate you.” 

“You’re very rude and I think it’s mostly uncalled for.” 

“It’s because I hate you.” Geralt reaffirmed. 

“I know you do, darling.” Jaskier sighed dejectedly. 

"How long have you been here wallowing in this graveyard wailing like a banshee?" 

"Couldn't say." Jaskier batted his eyes, sprawling out over the top of an ivy-covered headstone as if he were trying to scratch an unreachable itch. "For my grief is a prison wherein time itself holds no power." 

“Wait. Where are you going? You’ve only just arrived.” 

“To bed.” Geralt huffed, sheathing his sword and slinging his leather pack over his shoulder. “I came here to kill a wraith and there is no wraith. Leave, Jaskier. Move on — roam where you will, I don’t care. But go. Your dramatic wails of anguish are scaring the locals.” 

Geralt had combed through the graveyard, Jaskier following behind like a lost puppy. And he had found no sign of a wraith or any other monster for that matter. 

There went the brothel plans. Geralt wasn't going to take money for the head of a beast that was never there to begin with. Though, dealing with Jaskier was arguably more painful, irritating, and potentially more dangerous than a wraith.

As for the illustration -- I think you understood perfectly actually. Excellent choice by the way. In the great Autodesk Crash of 2021 I lost every file to some corrupted mess and a portion of a screenshot was all I had left of this piece. This is the current WIP version of the recovery. I mean, I spent probably ten hours painting it and was nearly done when I lost all my files. It was so tragic, my guy. Many tears were shed.

Behold, WIP Illustration_120

#honey lemon answers #the witcher #honey lemon draws #honey lemon writes #my WIPS #aw fiddlesticks #honey lemons trash #witcher fan art #wip #wip game

[unknownjpegs]

team bonding

“Team bonding.” Tino says without glancing up from his desk.

“We’re bonded.” Benji throws himself into the chair with a dramatic huff that gets him nowhere, nothing. At least, nothing but an equally theatric side-eye. We: me, you, Lark.

A long sigh accompanies it. “Not you and Xavier.”

“Xavier’s a prick.” Benji says immediately, then snaps his jaw shut. Tino wags a finger. “Pft. He is, okay? Even before he got a fuckin’ brain injury from that basement.”

Their priest groans and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Benji, c’mon now. Why’d you have to go and say that?” His brown fingers pluck the reading glasses from their perilous perch, hand scrubbing over his whole face. “God's sake. Gonna be worryin’ over that boy for the rest of this afternoon.”

You should be. It’s on the tip of his tongue, bitter-tasting anxiety. He swallows it like bad medicine, keeps that to himself. You should be worried. He’s been weird lately. It might actually be a brain thing, Ti. It might be something worse.

Benji shakes the thought away internally. It’s a silly one. No merit. Xavier’s weird to begin with, the sort of person you gotta be an expert to get. And unlike Lark, he simply hasn't put the hours in.

He doesn’t want to. He doesn’t. He swears he fucking doesn’t. Because—

“Need to worry over him being a proper fucking dickhead all the time.”

“Well, we get along.” Tino sing-songs, shuffling a stack of papers. “And after this, you will too.” 

Benji very much doubts that — or wants to.

*

He tries, anyway. For Tino mostly, if not for Lark.

(And even a bit for Xavier, their wobbly ground of truce.)

The job won’t be particularly difficult. He’s thankful for that. He can’t focus on making nice and clearing the way for a wandering spirit at the same time. 

It’s a long drive to the little farmhouse out in the countryside where Tino has steered them. Benji suggests stopping for snacks, and Xavier pulls into a gas station. He swings them expertly into a reverse parallel maneuver, arm over the back of Benji’s seat to show off. 

“Cool.” Benji compliments dryly, punctuating it with an eye-roll so he doesn’t look as fond as he feels. He heaves himself out of the truck with a grunt and then slams the open-windowed door. “Earned yourself something special for that.”

“Ooooh. How special?” 

Benji pauses, discomfort prickling up the back of his neck like the cold set of fingers.

He doesn’t turn around at the suggestive noise because he feels heat creep up his cheeks at the low, rumbling coo.You're overthinking it, he tells himself, shaking his head a bit. Was a joke.

So Benji pretends he didn’t hear anything at all, instead jogging between cars and into the convenience store. 

You're overthinking it. He convinces himself. Grabs an energy drink. Heard it wrong. Tucks crisps for himself into the crook of his elbow. No way. Another crinkly packet of crisps, nasty flavor for Xavier. You heard wrong, Benji. Two bottles of water. Relax. Shit celebrity magazine for the inevitable camera-watching downtime, meter reading, sitting in silence around Xavier, near Xavier

— ooh, how special — 

Relax. 

The pump dings right on time as Benji returns, his arms laden with their mini-roadtrip haul.

Team bonding. Relax. Team bonding. Relax. 

He waits until they’re on the road again to reveal his hoard of goodies, fighting a smile when he holds up the back of crisps for Xavier to take.

Except the man only spares them a look brief enough to read the label, then scrunches his nose.

“I’ll skip for now.” Xavier hands the bag back, half-smiling at Benji. It isn't crooked how it usually is when he's polite.

“Oh.”

He takes it back with a frown, glancing between the blue crinkly packaging and the driver’s seat. The turn signal blinks on, a lulling beat that echoes in Benji’s left ear too loud. It aches a bit, like how loud, bass-deep sounds ache after a concert. How you can feel it in your chest for a few hours. Benji swallows, feeling suddenly on-the-spot — and a bit daft. 

“Are…I thought you liked these ones?” He laughs nervously as they merge back onto the highway. “Or, was it only the salt and vinegar in that one brand?” 

Xavier chuckles at him. He leans dramatically to the side during the left turn, bumping their shoulders together teasingly. The silence in the cabin feels strange; like it wants to be congenial, but they’re not quite there. Pushing it.

“Relax, Benj. You’re thinking too hard. Gonna give yourself an aneurysm.”

Even as his face heats at the nickname, Benji's eyes narrow. He doesn’t know why he feels…suspicious. And why that makes him feel vulnerable, besides. How completely stupid is it that he's vulnerable over buying the wrong fucking flavor?

“Yeah. Yeah, you’re probably right. Need to relax. Need a fuckin’ nap.” He twists to the door and curls his knees up against it, forehead to the cool window. “Tap me in once we’re half-way? Wanna catch the scenery.” 

“Heard, chef,” Xavier tilts his head dramatically to either side as he chirps it out, gives a cheeky salute. They’ve been watching some cooking drama show in their downtime; for the past week, Xavier’s taken absolute delight in quoting his favorite character. 

Benji sighs, pulling the hem of his shirt over his nose to get comfortable. A quick peripheral peek tells him Xavier does too: his eyes are ringed dark, but alert enough to drive.

At least, Benji hopes so. All of Xavier’s baselines have been hard to determine lately.

*

He narrowly ducks the plate as it’s hurtled across the kitchen by some invisible force. It shatters against the far wall, leaving a scratch in the lavender paint and ceramic shards raining into his hair. 

“Fuckin’ hell!” Benji shouts, leaping backwards. Until now, the activity has been minimal. Kid’s voice in the bedroom, whispers that stood the air on the back of their necks. Nothing volatile — nothing violent. 

“You alright?” Xavier shouts. He jumps gracefully over a camera cable that bisects the walkway into the dining room, dropping heavily to his knees beside Benji. His hair is brushed out of his face. Xavier peers down at him, eyes of fresh sage dark and fathomless in the low light. Everything in the room fades out for a second; the static churn of their spirit box, the soft yellow-caution light and tinny whir of the EMF still clutched tight in Benji’s fist. 

He only looks away from Xavier to scrunch an eye closed against a sudden intrusion. His eyelashes flutter against the warm, wet trickle that flows over his lid and down his cheek.

Xavier sucks in a sharp breath and touches his thumb to the spot. “Shit, Benji. You’re bleeding.”

We have to go. Benji’s gut shrieks. He wipes the rest of the blood away with the back of his hand. He doesn’t feel dizzy, but something is in the air — something that makes it hard to think straight. And for once, it’s not that Xavier-induced vertigo. We have to fucking go. 

“Yeah,” he says, voice thick. He clears it to try again. “Yeah, yeah. She didn’t mean to — it didn’t mean to. Just a kid, it doesn’t know better. Sometimes they just... anyway. Let’s see if we can’t find the remains, yeah? Get this one on its way.” 

He gets to his knees a bit too quick, but plays off the stumble well. For some reason, being hurt makes him embarrassed. Nah — being hurt in front of Xavier embarrasses him. Benji’s got that shameful look at me, look at me! kid voice going off in the back of his head. Are you watching me? Ah, shit, not this. Don’t watch this. Look when I’m doing something cool, instead of gettin’ fucking domed by some spirit who doesn’t know their own clumsy strength.

“Benji?”

Xavier reaches for him, two cold fingertips brushing his shoulder. Benji snaps out of it and twists out of range, a shiver going through him at the touch. His spine feels liquid. 

“Are you sure you're okay?”

When he glances over his shoulder, Xavier’s staring down at the smear of crimson across his palm. There’s a strange heat in his gaze when he pulls it up to look Benji in the eye. 

“Yeah. Fine.” He says slowly. “It’s shallow. Doesn’t even hurt.”

Xavier’s brow pulls in concern. “I…you’re acting weird, man. Did it get you anywhere —”

This time, it’s not just two fingers. Xavier presses his whole, broad hand to the center of Benji’s chest for a brief but delayed beat. Benji's heart thumps beneath it. Then, honey-slow and more reverent than it takes to check for injuries, that soft press slips up over his collarbone, brushing the collar of his jacket away to cradle the side of his neck. Another shiver wracks through him, beginning at the point where a dry, calloused skin caresses him with something a little more severe than concern. 

Benji takes a full step back, nodding too quickly. He takes a steadying breath before shooting Xavier what he hopes is a normal grin. 

“Nah, nurse. M’good, yeah? Swear.”

At that, Xavier's suggestive smile drops off. It doesn't slip into quite his usual pout, but it's close.

Benji watches him wipe his palms on his jeans. Then he goes to lead the way back to their surveillance setup. His boots are heavy on the farmhouse’s hardwood floor — there's a brief pause before Xavier follows. His steps are lighter. 

He makes sure Benji is facing away before he lifts his hand to his mouth, drags his pink tongue across the remaining smear of rusty, crackling blood drying tacky in the creases. He stifles a moan at the taste.

*

“We’ll talk to Tino.”  Benji declares as they approach the truck. He tucks his fists into the jacket’s pockets to ward off the rest of the early morning chill. The sun is just rising over the horizon and the singular tree down the country road casts a long, long shadow. Shadows. Three of them — Benji’s wide one, Xavier’s hilariously long-limbed, and the tree's: spiraling branches dotting speckle shadowed leaves between their stretching forms. 

“He’ll know where to go from here. Have a feeling that place’s problems aren’t gonna be solved with the last rites, and I don’t feel comfortable tryin’ without backup. There’s something else there.” He shakes his head thoughtfully, squinting into the spill of light across fields of steadily growing wheat. “Tino’ll know what to do.” 

“Can Tino fix it?” Xavier bellows, cadence dipping to a beat Benji doesn’t recognize. He marches goofily in place as he rounds the driver’s side door. “Yes he can!” 

Benji snorts a laugh, shaking his head. He peers over the hood at Xavier, his windswept hair and pale, freckly face. He’s smiling again. That crooked, close-mouthed thing. A normal one, or as close to it as he's seen in awhile. Benji tries to remember the last time Xavier tossed his head back for a laugh, the last time he saw tooth. The flash of a pink tongue, the shiny filling in a molar — like Benji’s own family, he has a sneaking suspicion Xavier’s didn’t have spare funds to throw at the fake-enamel kind that blended in.

Nothing about Xavier, Benji thinks fondly, blends in. 

“That from something?”

“Old cartoon.” Xavier declares as he slides into the driver’s seat. “Bob the Builder.”

Benji does the same. “Lemme guess. ‘Bout a guy who fixes stuff? Shit, Xavier—!”

Just as he reaches for his seatbelt to click it in place, Xavier presses on the gas too hard. The truck jerks forward, throwing them both back and forth with the quickness he engages the brake. 

“Sorry,” he laughs wildly, scrubbing a hand through his hair. He takes his eyes off the road briefly to snicker at Benji’s expression, eyebrows pinched in embarrassed concern. “Fuck, sorry. I…I forgot how touchy this pedal is.”

Benji notices a lot of things about Xavier. His favorite snacks and flavors, how his smile stretches his face, what anger and concern look like gracing pretty, pouty features. What music he likes, the volume he likes to keep it at while driving. 

And there are things Benji doesn’t notice. Things he misses. Things he can't know, because they're all happening internally. He doesn’t see that Xavier has been losing time. Blacking out. Forgetting where he's been, not just forgetting what he's come into a room for. He doesn't notice that his bright, big eyes have become a little more hollowed out in his face. That he’s lost weight around the middle. That he sometimes can't remember who he’s talked to, what he's said, what he's done, where he goes any given day.

Benji misses obvious things. The swipe of a hungry tongue into blood. A quiet retreat when the crucifix and salt had been retrieved from their bag of supplies. 

But he has missed subtle ones, too. Like how the untouched bag of crisps (Xavier's favorite flavor, he'd been right after all) goes eventually stale in the backseat. How Xavier doesn’t touch the turn signal once for the entire duration of their four-hour drive back home. 

And how, as of recent, the only time Xavier smiles with teeth is when the thing that wears him passes a mirror and finds that terrified, freckled face in the reflection.

#writing #ua #bp #tl #xw #lt #bp x xw #ghost hunters au

[sosaysdean]

that one dude on youtube who watched the pilot of spn and then the finale and was like wtf don’t tell me they kill dean off like that wtf. yea he gets it. and he doesn’t even watch the show

#like it’s so. idk it feels disrespectful 😭 #like fifteen years with a character and this is how u end their story and it’s not even #the whole ‘going out swinging’ he didn’t even go out dramatically because he got fucking impaled #like what #he should have lived he should have gotten to live his best life it’s what he deserved #I hate everyone

[lovecanyon]

“that song gives me flashbacks of when they were broken up”

WHAT. NO

harryxband!reader were broken up for a while??!😖could you write something about that please

the sweethearts

harry x band!reader

(more of my work here)

-

“Fuck you.” Y/N says before slamming the car door shut making Harry quickly follow after her into their shared Malibu house.

She swings the door closed which made him almost walk into it. That definitely got him more angry.

“Who the hell do you think you are!” Harry yells watching Y/N walk up the stairs. The only response he gets was her middle finger.

A huff comes from him as rushes up the stairs following his girlfriend’s figure. By the time he made it to their bedroom the door was shut and locked.

He couldn’t believe this whole fight happened because of a party. In her words “he had left her alone while he went to talk to other women.”

It was complete bullshit in his opinion.

“Y/N open the fucking door.” Harry seethes as he wiggles the door handle.

She didn’t open it because on the other side of the door she was packing all her clothes into a suitcase.

Maybe she was dramatic but she was sick of the way she got treated. Ever since tour finished Harry had been going out every night leaving his girlfriend at home treating her like a maid.

Yeah he had asked her if she wanted to go but she had went out every night during tour. She was tired, all just wanted to do was stay home with her boyfriend. But he had other plans.

And every time she brought it up it turned into a fight. Which was exactly happening right now.

-

The musician was sat on the floor for about an hour begging for his girlfriend to come out and when she did he was shocked at the sight.

Mascara running down her face and hair messy all while she held a suitcase. It made his heart drop.

“W-what are you doing—“

“I have to go Harry.” Y/N sniffles walking down the hallway. He quickly follows her and grabs her arm softly.

“Y/N baby where are you going?” He questions trying to stop her but she continued to keep going downstairs. “Please baby—“

“No Harry! You don’t get to do that. Every fucking night I stay up waiting for you to come home. I cook for you, I keep this house clean, I even fucking do your laundry and what do I get?” She yells dropping the suitcase on the marble floor.

He doesn’t respond because he knows she has every right to be like that.

“You constantly talk shit about other people and how they are so caught up in their fantasy. Look in the fucking mirror one time. I’m done with you.” Y/N tells Harry which made him stop and freeze.

She gives him one final look before walking out of the house.

-

taglist: @harrysmatcha @harryspinkpillow @helen-with-an-a @florencepughily @needyghosts @peterparkerbae @deadass1011 @toji-dabi-wife @fallonx @pilgrimharry13 @cherriesrae @alienorknight @valluvsu @quinnjackluke @drphilssoulmate @ivegotparticulartaste @ayeshathestyles @hazgoldenstyles @eiffelmezarry @tsukishimawhore @renatavieira @michellekstyles @ke-deidra @eleanordaisy @shawnsblue @academiaghosts

#harry styles x reader #dad!harry #boyfriend!harry #husband!harry #ceo!harry #dilf!harry #harry styles #harry styles au #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles writing #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #harry styles fake ig #harry styles fake instagram #harry styles fake social media

[kimnjss]

being dramatic

>>>

august 19, 2014 | 11:36

the cool summer breeze tickles your cheeks, slowly pulling you from your slumber. it's weird. the familiar weight on your waist gone, actually being able to stretch without hearing the grunt of disapproval from your boyfriend. refusing to let you put any space between your bodies, who cares if you already spent the night tangled with each other.

you're not getting that this time around and when you're reaching out to his side of the bed – you're being met with nothing but the mess of sheets. cold sheets. sleepy eyes blinking open, confusion settles when you're not seeing his messy brown curls. you had convinced him to dye it nearly a year ago and he liked the look so much, that he kept up with it. you thought it looked cute, of course, you thought everything about him was cute.

and despite the fact you tell him all the time, you're bummed that he did stay the whole night – because you'd love to tell him right now. taehyung wasn't one to leave without saying goodbye, so you can't help the way you think the worse upon fully waking up. “shit,” scrambling to shove the blanket from your body, legs swinging around to find your slippers. fuzzy cheetah print ones, a gift from tae.

he's probably in his room. maybe he got up to use the bathroom sometime during the night and forgot he was spending the night with you and went back to his room? that made sense, right? you're rushing down the stairs without so much of a backward glance at your mother who stands in the kitchen. heart pounding in your chest as you cross the hall, not even thinking to knock. “taehyung!?” you're calling into the seemingly empty house, waiting for a response.

and you're getting nothing. the house was completely silent, nothing but the sound of your slippers hitting against the hardwood. he couldn't just be gone, right? he wouldn't leave. not after last night... last night was huge, it was different. a moment that the two of you had been saving for the perfect moment, surely he wouldn't just leave after a night like that. right? you've searched his room. the living room and even his parents. the game room is empty, same with the theater. there's no sign of him, even the shorts he never brought in for the pool were gone.

he was gone.

you had been too busy shouting his name throughout the entire house, you didn’t even think of calling him. not until you’re back in your room and catching sight of your phone amongst the wrinkle of sheets. you’re quick to reach for it, being greeted by the picture the two of you had taken after your first party. two whole years ago before either of you knew you were mad for each other. the call goes past one ring which is really weird, he’s always answering right away. and you’ve never been greeted by his voicemail, you don’t like the way it sounds.

and that doesn’t change after the fifth time you’re hearing it. “what the fuck is going on, tae?” you’re saying through a huff as you sink onto your bed. two seconds from calling him again when the knock at your door catches your attention, head snapping up as it opens. “taehyung?” the hopefulness is evident in your tone, crumbling at the sight of your mother’s face. sporting a sad smile as she enters, a plate of french toast in hand.

“hey, baby.” she’s setting the plate down on your dresser before taking slow steps to you. “mom. have you heard from tae? he slept her last night, but now he’s not answering and all of his stuff is gone an-..” your words are fading at the sight of her reaching out to you, that same sad look in her eye as her hand pants at your head.

she takes her time with sitting on the bed, sighing softly while gesturing to the empty space beside her. but you don’t want to sit and talk, you had much more important things to worry about. like why your boyfriend wasn’t answering you. “do you know where tae went, mom?” you don’t like the way she’s looking at you, an arm reaching out for yours. she’s gently tugging you toward her.

he didn’t really leave, right? there was no way he’d just up and leave and not tell you anything about it? but all of his stuff were gone… and he wasn’t answering his phone. it didn’t make sense and you felt like you could throw up. even if he did leave, he was coming back, right? he wouldn’t just go somewhere and leave you behind like that, he wouldn’t. yet, the way your mother is looking at you makes your words harder to believe.

a soothing thumb rubbing against your wrist as her free hand pats against the bed and you want nothing more than to run to wherever taehyung went, make sure he was okay – rather than have the conversation you knew was coming. but you can’t, body sinking into the mattress, your gaze shifting onto your mother who’s still wearing that stupid sad smile, sighing as she says. “come sit. we have a lot to talk about,”

— bruised knees from climbing trees, each summer was spent the same. now eight years of nothing have passed and they’re back where they started, forced to navigate through all the heartbreak that comes with seeing each other again in order to make a great summer for their friends.

↲ masterlist ↳

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A/N: timestamps make sense throughout the fic. if u want to be added to the tag list, send me an ask! + if you’ve asked to be on my permanent taglist, you do not need to ask to be added to this one !!

#taehyung #taehyung angst #kim taehyung #taehyung sm au #🏕 sm au #taehyung imagine #taehyung fluff #taehyung reaction #taehyung fic #namjoon #jin #yoongi #hoseok #jimin #jungkook #bts #bts social media au #jikook #sope #bts sm au

[bitsandbobsandstuff]

The Midnight Coconuts

Summary: Bucky and his girl take a trip to the grocery store. Several things are involved, including coconuts, a 25cent gum-ball machine, Avengers branded Jell-O, chocolate milk straight from the jug, and tampons.  Characters: Bucky x Reader Words: 3k Warnings: Some swearing. Insane levels of fluff. Dangerously adorable Bucky. One (1) random reference to Not Another Teen Movie. 

A/N: Listen, I will never be over silly domestic Bucky! I originally started this story before TFATWS came out and when I imagined Sam had a niece, so just go with it. Part of me wrote this, because I needed to convince myself that I love grocery shopping (one can only eat takeaway and Trader Joe’s Orange Chicken for so long) and the other part wrote this because I firmly believe domestic routines can be the most romantic adventures out there.

When the doors to the grocery store whoosh open with a gust of stale manufactured air, Bucky skids to an abrupt and dramatic stop.  

“WAIT!”

Behind him, you stumble in panic, fumbling with an armful of reusable grocery bags. Instantly you’re imagining spilled blood and stab wounds and clean ups on aisle three and god dammit, how can there be a problem? This is a grocery store at midnight on a Wednesday. Shouldn’t the forces of evil be sleeping? Why is it so impossible to get a day off work? Don’t they know you need rest? And peanut butter? And that you’re dangerously low on toilet paper?

The forces of evil are the worst.

Raising weary fists, you huff.

“What? Where is it?”

Bucky sidesteps toward a row of small red and green machines beside the entrance, falling to his knees and smushing his nose eagerly against the glass. Reaching a hand behind him, there are several impatient grabby motions, before he glances back.

“Babe, can you give me a quarter? I need a gum-ball.”

Planting a sneaker clad foot on his ass, you shove. Hard.  

“Bucky, we talked about this. Remember how you agreed to lower the drama and keep things in perspective? I thought we were under attack.”

“If I don’t get a green gum-ball,” he declares dramatically, “there will be an attack.”

Throwing the cloth bags at his face, you stomp off to retrieve a shopping cart, plunking your purse in the front and hunching over the handlebars.  

“I thought you said you were a millionaire now. Buy your own gum-ball.”

Bucky rolls his eyes.

“Like I carry loose change,” he scoffs. “C’mon, just one quarter. Please?”

This time, he gives you the Look. That patented Bucky Barnes stare, with the wide eyes and full pouty lips and faux innocent expression, and if this man wasn’t the love of your life you’d quite happily stab him in the heart.

Instead, you open your purse and fish out a quarter, flinging it at his frustratingly pretty face. It bounces off his forehead and he scoops it up with a grin.

“So just to clarify. You came to the grocery store covered in knives, but you forgot to bring money?”

Giving you an indulgent smile, he jams the quarter into the slot. With a twist and shake, a gum-ball rattles free, and Bucky crows with delight when he sees the green candy. He pops it in his mouth. 

“I didn’t forget. I made a conscious decision to remove the temptation. If I bring cash, I’ll spend it. You know I ain’t great with that whole self control thing.”

“How encouraging to hear, from the man with knives pouring out his ass.”  

Jumping to his feet, he throws an arm around your shoulders. 

“Ass knives sound painful.”

“Depends on how sharp they are,” you mumble, pulling a carefully folded sheet of paper from your jacket.

“Excuse you? My knives are always perfectly sharpened, thank you very much. What kind of expert assassin runs around with dull knives? Damn baby, it’s like you don’t even know me.”

Ignoring him, you flatten out the paper and smooth the edges, sighing happily at the block letters and structured diagrams drawn in deep blue ink. 

Here it is, your masterpiece. A monument to productivity. The gold standard by which all optimization models should be benchmarked. This isn’t just any list, this is The List.

Everything is grouped, first by aisle, then by product location within the aisle, and then from top to bottom shelf order, to maximize efficiency. This is the dream list. The kind that inspires jealousy. The kind people hold up at TED talks when they talk about time management techniques. Marie Kondo wishes she had this list. 

Bucky snorts when he sees the carefully printed boxes.  

“God, you’re such a square,” he says adoringly. He plants a sugary wet kiss on your temple and you grind an elbow into his ribs.

“We discussed this, Bucky. Don’t mock my lists.” 

“Sorry babe, I ain’t mocking. Your lists are beautiful, they always get me all hot and bothered,” he agrees, dipping lower to lick behind your ear. “And I really love that list you keep with all those dirty, filthy, sex things you wanna do to me.”

“I don’t have a list like that.”

“Yeah, I know,” Bucky sighs, “and I don’t know how many more hints I can drop here.”

Reaching under his shirt, you rub his belly consolingly. “Okay then. This weekend I’ll sit down and make you a special list. One so disgusting and dirty and depraved, it would make Wade Wilson cry.”

Bucky laughs and squeezes you tighter. 

“About damn time honey. I’m equally parts terrified and horny. So where’re we headed first?”

“Produce,” you answer promptly, plowing forward, Bucky still chuckling beside you.

The whole scenario was ironic, actually. There was no need to grocery shop - automatic ordering mechanisms  across the Avengers tower rendered the task meaningless - but sometimes it was a welcome relief to partake in such an ordinary thing. Unable to sleep after one particularly terrible mission, you found yourself wandering the aisles of your 24-hour supermarket, dressed in pineapple adorned pajama pants and one of Bucky’s rattier sweatshirts, searching for ice cream. The unexpected symmetry of products arranged along the shelves, the rainbow hued produce, the hint of baking bread wafting from the ovens, all those everyday trappings of normality, they washed over like a soothing balm. Soon enough, the boiling bad thoughts simmered to nothing more than a cache of blurry memories.

When you got home, sleep came fast, deep and dreamless.

One month later, the idea struck again.

After 36 hours of Bucky tossing and turning, dark shadows bruising beneath weary blue eyes, you took his hand and led him down the dark street for a midnight adventure. He was skeptical, disbelieving that something so simple could chase away the insomnia. But he dutifully followed you, strolling aimlessly through the aisles, throwing odds and ends into the cart. 

The tension gradually eased, he began to relax, and suddenly? 

He was hooked.

An hour later, after arguing the health benefits of frosted Cheerios over oatmeal, poking each hunk of cheese in the display, and loading the cart with every single flavor of spaghetti sauce on the shelf, the heavy weight of remembering began to ease. When he collapsed into bed, he slept for eight hours straight.

I don’t know what that was, he swore the next morning, munching through his third bowl of frosted Cheerios, but it was magic.

And with that, a midnight ritual was born. Sometimes you make the trek alone, sometimes Bucky does the same, but whenever life permits you go together. This small slice of domesticity brings a warm comfort to this strange life.   

There is no doubt, this is your favorite area of the entire store.

Barrels filled with tart oranges and smooth red apples. Tables piled high with bananas, some just shy of yellow, others sunshine perfect, and a few with speckles of black (which are the best). Shelves lining the walls, overflowing with bundles of herbs and lettuce, all coated in a fine layer of mist. 

Bliss. 

Heading straight for the apples, you plunge into the Gala pile, rummaging until you come up with ten perfect ones. Peaches follow, fingers rubbing along the delicate pinky-orange fuzz. Squeeze, smell, squeeze, smell. Five are chosen for a pie (Sam pleaded shamelessly until you agreed to make him one), and in the cart they go. Heading toward the wall of herbs, you’re reaching for the basil when a metallic bang makes you jump. Spinning around, you find Bucky lobbing coconuts into the cart.

“We need these.”

“We really don’t, Buck. I hate coconut, it tastes like suntan lotion.”

“They’re not for eating,” he grabs an apple, wipes it on his shirt, and takes a juicy bite. “They’re for security.”

Sticky juice drips from his lip, catching in his beard. When you reach over to swipe it away, he nips your finger with a grin.

“Explain please.”

“See it’s like this. We’re just here shopping, doin’ our thang -”

“Don’t say thang.”

“- when someone attacks. What happens? BAM. One of these furry beauties breaks their face. Problem solved.”

Giving him a slow perusal, you raise an eyebrow.

“Were the 47 knives you’re carrying not enough to deflect this attack?”

Finishing off the apple in three sloppy bites, he carefully tucks the price sticker in his pocket so he can scan it before leaving and sets the mangled core beside your purse.

“Babe, these are my back-up plan. A good soldier always has a back-up plan.”

While you grab a bottle of extra-pulpy orange juice, Bucky picks two jugs of chocolate milk, snaps one open and takes a swing. Ever the thrifty shopper, he pulls a familiar bag from his back pocket, fishes out a crumpled piece of newspaper, and dangles it before you.

“Found a coupon for this,” he says gleefully. “Buy one, get one free. It’s called a BOGO. A BOGO. Hilarious, right? Fuck me, I love the future.”

Still laughing, he takes another long drink of chocolate milk and smacks his lips.

It was a lazy Sunday morning when you discovered this particular habit. Walking into the living room, you found Bucky buried in a sea of Sunday newspaper, tongue between his teeth and scissors in hand while he clipped coupons. He wasn’t picky, if it was remotely interesting, it went into the YES pile. It was one of those random things that brought him inordinate levels of joy, so of course you encouraged it. On his last birthday, you gifted him with a green zippered bag decorated with angry looking owls and official looking letters stitched across the front:

Bucky’s Coupon Bag  Thriftn’ Machine Since 1917

He laughed for five straight minutes and then stuffed it full. The bag accompanies you on every trip and the sight of Bucky excitedly rifling through his wad of coupons still makes your heart swell.  

Setting aside his BOGO, Bucky continues down the aisle, leaving you to pause in front of the yogurt. While you contemplate the merits of blackberry vs strawberry, Bucky slides over holding three cans of Reddi-Whip. 

“Are you actually planning to eat that? I thought you said whipped air is for, and I quote, ‘spineless, tasteless trash heathens’?”

Bucky shakes the can of spray whipped cream and wiggles his eyebrows, leveling you with a sultry stare. 

“Hell no I’m not eating it. This is for the bedroom. Last week I watched this god-awful movie where some blond guy - who looked exactly like Steve, by the way - made himself a whipped cream bikini for his girl. Decided I’m gonna do that for you. You’re welcome.”

“That sounds gross and unsanitary.” 

“If by gross and unsanitary you mean spicy and sexy, then yes. Yes it does.”

Whistling what sounds like the theme music from a bad porn, he adds two tubs of honey swirled Greek yogurt, pats your butt, and strolls ahead, throwing a roughish wink over his shoulder. Imagining the melted whipped cream soaking into your bedsheets, you mentally add more laundry detergent to the list.

“Hang on, turn here.”

Tugging the cart behind him, Bucky stalks toward the feminine hygiene display. It takes him a minute to scan the products before squatting down to the bottom shelf. Grabbing two jumbo boxes of tampons, oddly enough the brand you prefer, he pops back to his feet.  

“Dare I ask why you need these?”

A faint pink flush crawls up his neck.  

“Well, you know, two reasons. They’re really great for stopping bloody noses, you know? Just poke ‘em up there and they soak it all up.”

 He mimes the execution and adds a thumbs up.

“And the second reason?”

Squinting at his boots, he shuffles his feet a bit. The pink flush deepens. 

“Um, you know - I know you’re out, since I stuck the last one up Steve’s nose last week, and yeah. Anyway. It’s about that time. Of the month. For you.”

Clearing his throat, he reaches for his chocolate milk, but you grab his wrist.  

“You know when my period’s going to start?”

He shrugs self-consciously and fiddles with a loose thread on his shirt.  

“Well yeah. You think it’s just a coincidence when all your favorite candy shows up every month?” Looking up, he shoots you a crooked smile and leans over the cart to kiss your forehead. Grabbing a fistful of his shirt, you haul him in for a real kiss instead and his startled laughter tickles your lips. When you break away, those bright blue eyes are shining. 

“Thank you, Bucky,” you murmur.

“Anytime, sweetheart,” he whispers. 

This is the aisle where the cart officially explodes.

Lasagna noodles.

Egg noodles.

Spaghetti noodles.

Penne.

Linguine. 

Fettuccine.

Literally one of every noodle is selected, because Bucky Barnes is a self-proclaimed noodle slut. 

As you organize the boxes and search for orzo, you see him furtively add an extra bag of elbow macaroni. A quiet cough hides your laughter.

The last time Sam’s four-year-old niece came to the tower, she and Bucky spent hours making glittery elbow macaroni necklaces, which they ceremoniously gifted to everyone. When Sam casually mentioned her enthusiastically telling everyone at pre-school about her friend Bucky and how much fun she had visiting him, Bucky ran to a craft store and bulk bought supplies of glue, string, paint, and glitter, just in case she comes over again.

Months later and the entire team are still finding puddles of glitter all over the tower, but the delight on Bucky’s face anytime someone mentions that arts and crafts afternoon? 

It’s worth the mess.     

Gathering up brown sugar, instant oats, and chocolate chips, you turn to drop them in the cart when Bucky makes a strangled noise. Glancing over, you find him bouncing on his toes, vibrating with excitement.

“Babe. Babe. Are you making monster cookies?”

Adding a can of raisins, you search for the good vanilla. The kind that actually tastes like vanilla, not a cheap car wash air freshener. 

“I promised I would,” you remind him. Bucky plasters himself against your back, wrapping you in an enthusiastic hug and nuzzling his face against your neck.

“I love those fucking cookies,” he declares. “They’re my favorite thing ever. Next to you I mean.”

Finding the vanilla, you spin in his arms and return the squeeze.  

“I know you do. But you have to share them this time, okay? You can’t just eat them all yourself like the last two times. Agree?”

“Agree…to disagree. They’re wasted on other people, no one else loves as much. It’s for the best when I eat them all, it’s proof how much I love you. I’m doing it for you. I’m supporting you. Because I love you.”

“You’re completely full of shit,” you reply.

“I swear I’m not! Just listen!”

The excuses grow longer and wilder as Bucky outlines his rationale against sharing, walking backward and dragging the cart with him as he pleads his case. He’s diving into the science of super soldier metabolism levels and caloric requirements and the fact that his sister never shared anything with him, when he bumps into a tall display. 

He pulls up short, eyes narrowing. Plunking his fists on his hips, he growls a disgruntled sigh and glares at the rows of packaging. 

“You’ve gotta be shitting me.”

Lined up in neat rows, you see boxes of Jell-O organized by color and flavor. On the cover of each are an assortment of familiar images.  

“Are these Avengers themed Jell-O?” you ask, picking up a box with Sam’s image and the words Wild Berry Wilson. The rows extend further, filled with Lime Green Hulk and Blue Raspberry Rogers and Black Cherry Widow and Strawberry Lemon Stark. Exasperated, Bucky grabs the Sparkling Orange Spider flavor. 

“Is this for real? The kid gets one and I didn’t? Someone in PR is getting fired.”

“Well there’re only so many flavors, Buck,” you point out practically, but Bucky’s not in the mood for logic. Instead, he swipes an entire shelf of Jell-O flavors into the cart.  

“I swear to god, I have to do everything around here. Fine then. I’ll make my own flavor, Blackberry Kiwi Soldier or Winter Watermelon Rainbow, or something.” He pauses thoughtfully. “Anyway, I’ll work on the name. But I’m bringing it to dinner tomorrow night and everyone is gonna eat it.”

He dumps in a bag of mini-marshmallows and grabs sprinkles for topping, before marching down the aisle. Cringing at the volume of sugar in the cart, you make another mental note to schedule a dentist appointment.

“Go do your manly duty and find the meat. We need two 5lb rump roasts.”

“I like your rump roast,” he instantly responds and reaches over to smack your butt again. Anticipating the move, you catch his arm and twist it behind his back. He barks out a breathless laugh and you slap his ass in return.

“Your innuendos are tragic.”

Releasing him with a gentle shove, Bucky snatches up his three coconuts and ambles away, laughing while he juggles them. When he returns, he has the requested rump roasts, several packages of bacon, and a bundle of cocktail shrimp.

“If my innuendos get better, then can I touch your butt?”

“Maybe. But they better be real good.”

An added benefit to shopping at midnight? Not a soul in line.

Loading everything onto the conveyer belt, you automatically organize for bagging. Boxes together, produce together, meat together. Bucky adds a pack of batteries, a tin of mints, and some trashy magazines.

The last three items in the cart are his coconuts. They rattle around until you toss them at him, motioning back to the produce department. 

“We made it out alive. Go put them back.”

Still chomping his tasteless green gum-ball, he shakes his head and plops them down. 

“Nah, I have another idea for them. Got all those craft supplies at home, I’m gonna make you something.”

“Should I even ask?”

Bucky blows a huge, wet bubble and looks you up and down.

“Have you every worn one of those coconut bras? Like on TV, with the ladies in grass skirts? I’m gonna make you one. I already have string and glue. And glitter.”

“I think you may be overestimating your crafting abilities.” Digging out your credit card, you wait for the final tally. 

“Well, if it’s terrible then you’ll just be naked. Either way, I win.”

Shaking out your grocery sacks, he packs everything with Tetris-like efficiency and slides all of them up the vibranium arm.   

“How about I make you a deal. I’ll wear a coconut bra, if you’ll make yourself something to wear as well.”

Bucky blows another sugary bubble, pondering the idea.

“Like a coconut man thong?”

“Exactly like a coconut man thong.”

“Deal. Add it to that special dirty list you’re making me honey. We got loads to do.” 

Outside, the night air smells sweet and cool, the barest hint of a spring rain and fresh grass lingering on the breeze. Already, your eyes are feeling heavy, tonight’s quiet adventure ushering in that sought after peace. 

In your right hand, the three coconuts swing gently in their plastic sack. Humming under his breath, Bucky yawns, reaching for your other hand. His warm, calloused palm squeezes tight, his thumb stroking lightly over your skin.

He turns to you with a sleepy, lopsided smile.

Midnight and coconuts.  

It always does the trick.

***

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky fic #bucky imagine #bucky barnes imagine

[sargeant-bxrnes]

1 step forward, 3 steps back.

warnings: rafe being… rafe. drug mention & consumption, cursing, toxic relationship, sexual situations/implications, mental health issues. ANGST.

[AN: this is the first thing i’ve written, ever, so my apologies if it’s not flawless ; also, english is not my first language, that’s a warning on its own]

my requests are open btw

click for my master list

word count: 4.4K

Called you on the phone today

Just to ask you how you were

All I did was speak normally

Somehow I still struck a nerve

“Hey,” you said in a soft tone as soon as Rafe picked up the phone, you were laying down on your bed, staring at the ceiling.

“Hey princess,” his tone was calm, but his voice was rough and raspy all together.

“How you doing?” you asked him, even though you’d seen him last night, up close.

“I’m doing great,” he replied in a surprisingly cheerful tone, which is weird this early in the morning. Rafe is not a morning person. “You sound tired.”

“I am tired,” you confirmed with a sigh. “Guess I have you to thank for that.”

“My pleasure.” he replied cockily, and even though you couldn’t see him, you could practically hear his proud smirk.

“So, what’s the plan today?” you asked in a casual tone, fidgeting with the edge of Rafe’s shirt, the one you wore to sleep.

“Uh, what do you mean?” he asked in a distracted tone, he sniffed subtly and coughed.

You knew what that meant, but still, you hoped it wasn’t what you deep down knew it was.

“Yeah, I mean—“ you said and made a brief pause. “Wanna go to the club? Maybe we can take a ride on the boat, you know, with food, alcohol... just us.”

“Can’t, I’m busy.” he said after a few seconds, if you didn’t know him better and his occasional mood swings, you would’ve said his tone was harsh.

"Really?" you asked in a soft tone, trying to disguise your disappointment with interest. "But I thought we were going out together today."

"Y/N, just because I'm your boyfriend it doesn't mean I have to be with you all the fucking time."

Okay, now he was definitely angry, you thought you said the right thing, but it still made him angry.

"Rafe-"

"No, Y/N. I have a life of my own, you know? Things to do besides you."

“That’s okay Rafe, I get it,” You said calmly, nodding your head softly. “Have fun today.”

Now you clearly heard the sound of him sniffing something and the sigh that left his lips after, and Barry’s voice in the background. “Don’t play the victim card on me, that’s not gonna work. I deserve to have some time off.”

“I didn’t,” you said softly. “And it’s okay baby, you’re right, you deserve to have some fun.”

“See? No need to be so fucking dramatic,” he said, his voice and words slurring. You? Dramatic? It was all him. “But don’t worry princess, I’ll drop by tonight and fuck the attitude out of you, yeah? That way I’m not just doing things with you, I’m doing you.”

And with such a vulgar comment and a harsh tone, Rafe hung up on you, leaving you completely dumbfounded and filled with incredulity.

What you did know for a fact, is that he would keep up his word. And judging by his tone of voice and how annoyed he was, you could already imagine the ache between your legs.

You got me fucked up in the head, boy

Never doubted myself so much

Like, am I pretty? Am I fun, boy?

I hate that I give you power over that kind of stuff

You knew exactly what you were getting into when you started hooking up with Rafe, and what you were committing to when you agreed to be his girlfriend.

You know that man carries more problems than he shows, he prefers to make himself appear as the Kook prince who lives a life of partying and money; hiding all the things that were going on in his head.

However, there were times when his attitude made you doubt yourself.

You couldn't help but think, ‘What if one day I don't manage to calm him down?’ ‘What if one day he realizes that there is someone prettier, or hotter, or wealthier out there?’

And Rafe would get angry if you doubted yourself. He would complain to you about it, saying you had no reason to be insecure about your looks; if you are absolutely gorgeous, or to feel insecure about your personality; if you were the most genuine person he'd ever met, and you could make him laugh until he forgot all his problems.

But what really made him furious was when you had doubts about the relationship itself, about whether or not he was capable of leaving you for someone else. He took those doubts personally, as if he wasn't trying hard enough to show you how much you mean to him.

When in reality; you were doubting yourself.

'Cause it's always one step forward

You were preparing dinner for you and Rafe, your family was out for the weekend, and Rafe had decided to spend it with you.

Your hair was tied up in a bun, your attire consisted of nothing but your underwear and a shirt that used to be Rafe's, but you took it so long ago that it's yours now.

Music from your shared playlist played in the background, as you danced absentmindedly with a spatula in hand, extremely calm and enjoying time with your boyfriend.

Rafe could do nothing but stare at you with admiration, you are literally the only good thing in his life; his little piece of heaven. You are everything to him.

As soon as Dark Red by Steve Lacy started playing, you let out an excited gasp. That song in particular is Rafe’s and yours, like… if you two had to choose a song to describe your relationship, it would be that one. It represented how you two did not always have good times, but your love prevailed.

Seeing you this happy, comfortable and at ease with him made Rafe's soul happy. All his life, he had done nothing else besides make people angry, disappointed, terrified. But with you, everything was different.

You were so focused on swaying your hips to the music and singing, that you didn't notice when Rafe stood up and walked over to where you were.

It wasn't until he stood behind you, chest to back and with his hands on your hips, that you realized he was closer. His head was bowed, you could feel his breathing close to your ear, so he was able to murmur in your ear the lyrics of the song:

“Only you, my girl, only you, babe,” he sang in your ear, his voice a soft whisper as he wrapped his arms around your body and started to sway with you. “Only you, darling, only you, babe.”

The gesture quickened your heart to unsuspected levels, you felt your knees weaken as you pressed closer to his body, appreciating his closeness as he pressed a kiss against your temple.

“You know I love you so much, right?” he mumbled in your ear, as you closed your eyes and relished his presence.

“I love you too, baby.”  you mumbled back, leaning your head against his chest, caressing one of his arms around your waist with your fingertips, and bringing your hand to his ash blond hair, stroking it softly.

and three steps back

“Why is he mad at you, again?” Topper asked you with a raised eyebrow, after witnessing Rafe utterly avoiding even looking at you when he walked into the room and then left without a word.

“Because I told Barry to not open the door if Rafe dropped by,” You replied with a shrug, closing your eyes and leaning back against the chair. “And when Rafe tried to lash out on him, Barry said it all had been ‘Mrs.Country Club’s’ request.”

“And he’s mad at you because you don’t want him to get all fucked up?” Topper questioned next, trying to understand the situation. But he never knew what the fuck you two were up to.

“Yes, but it’s Rafe, are you surprised?” you said with a heavy sigh.

“No, not really,” Topper admitted. “Honestly, I don’t know why you keep up with him, Y/N.”

“I ask myself that all the time…” you said with a deep sigh. “But I love him, so I guess that’s the answer.”

“And? I mean, I don’t want to be ‘that guy’ Y/N, but he’s…” Topper trailed off, apparently looking for the right word.

“I know exactly how he is, Topper, I don’t need you to remind me. I already think about that way too much.”

You and Topper had easily assumed that Rafe was no longer around, since he seemed to be making his best efforts to avoid you.

But Rafe was there, and he heard everything. He’d heard Topper giving you bad advice (or what he considered bad advice) And he heard you, having doubts about why you loved him or stood by him at all,and it made him want to lash out again.

I'm the love of your life until I make you mad

It's always one step forward and three steps back

Do you love me, want me, hate me? Boy, I don't understand

No, I don't understand

[+18. Really]

“Leave me alone!” his voice boomed in the room, his brows furrowed and the veins in his neck were popping out.

“Rafe—“ you tried once again, approaching slowly in an attempt to place a hand on his shoulder, but he waved it away aggressively.

“Leave-me-alone,” he said, pausing in between each word to emphasize on how much he meant it. His eyes were bloodshot, his nose had specks of white dust, his lips were dry and his voice was coarse.

You weren’t entirely sure what you could say to get him to calm down. Or if there was anything at all you could do.

Normally, what upsets him the most is Ward. His own father. Rafe has spent his whole life trying to prove he's a good son, to make his father proud, and Ward never appreciates his efforts, only notices the bad, and ignores Rafe's clear calls for help, has since Rafe was 10 years old, so he certainly wasn't going to pay attention to him now that Rafe finally had a steady girlfriend, someone who had willingly decided to help.

95% of the time, you managed to talk to Rafe before he decided to resort to intoxication. Most of the time just seeing you helped him calm down, hearing your voice soothed him, and your lips, your skin, put him in a state of peace.

But the other 5% is when Rafe resorted to alcohol and, above all, drugs.

When Rafe is upset and decides to get high, he only manages to become unstable, erratic and yes, aggressive if not handled with care.

In those situations, the best thing you can do, putting yourself first, is to give him his space. Let him screw himself as much as he wants for that day, and help him deal with the consequences the next day, while you listen to him lament his attitude.

Rafe always said he would quit the vice; claiming you were all he needed to calm himself down, that you made him feel at peace. And above all, that you weren't slowly killing him; on the contrary, every minute he spent with you made him feel more alive.

However, for one reason or another, he always came back to it. Whether it was at a party, because Kelce suggested it, or, as is almost always the case, when he's upset with his father and needs quick relief.

And usually, this ‘quick relief’ ends up with Rafe fucked up, big time.

Once he was convinced that you wouldn't try to intervene again, Rafe went back to his business. He turned to the table, and since he already had the line ready, he simply leaned over and inhaled it, throwing his head back, running his hand through his hair and exhaling as he closed his eyes.

You exhaled heavily, shaking your head as you stared at your feet.  You knew he would struggle to quit, after all it is an addiction and he has to fight it, but sometimes you get the impression that Rafe doesn't want to quit, not really.

"Do you want to help me?" asked Rafe eventually, turning his head to look at you. You didn't know if it was a trick question or not, so you hesitated before answering. "Answer me."

"Yes, of course I want to, Rafe." you replied with your respective hesitations, wondering what he was up to.

"Come here then," he said, making a 'come hither’ sign with his fingers.

You took a hesitant step but stopped, your eyes narrowing as you analyzed Rafe, trying to determine his intentions.

He raised both eyebrows in your direction, in a silent question of whether or not you're going to go with him.

Eventually you walked over to where Rafe was, he smiled at you while biting his lip lightly. Without saying anything he approached you and kissed you; the drugs made his senses heighten, so the kiss was intense from the beginning.

So that's when it made sense to you what he wanted, he wanted you. Your most obvious thought is that he would use you to take out your frustration, put the drugs aside and, most likely, fuck you.

Your idea seemed to be the right one as soon as Rafe grabbed you by the waist, still with his lips on yours, left a little bite on your lip before pulling away; and without any problem, lifted you off the floor and placed you on the table.

It's something you wouldn't admit out loud,—mostly out of shame and guilt,—but this kind of sex with Rafe was the best, he's completely unrestrained, rough, full of stamina and teasing, and above all, possessive. And that, in combination with his attractiveness, always drove you crazy.

And honestly; if what he wanted was to fuck you to take out his frustration, you'd let him.

His kisses were hungry and his hands desperate, running all over your body without distinction, as if he didn't know where to start.

He parted his lips from yours, and left a kiss at the corner of them, on your jaw; and began to make a little trail of slow kisses down your neck. The feeling of his lips on your neck made you bite your lip as you wrapped your legs around his waist to feel him closer.

You slid your hand under his shirt, caressing his defined abs and the sides of his body gently with the tips of your fingers, as he left little bites on your neck. Your hands slowly moved up, intending to remove his shirt, but Rafe was quicker and brought his hands to the edge of your shirt, causing you to stop your movements to raise your arms, so he could remove your shirt with ease. And so he did.

He parted his lips from your neck and stared at you, the hunger in his eyes made you feel a fire in the pit of your stomach that only he could put out.

Desperately, your lips connected again as he settled between your legs. One of his hands traveled to your neck, and he wrapped his fingers around it, pressing lightly to the sides. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head; though he couldn't see it.

With just enough strength, Rafe used the grip he had on your neck to push you down onto the table, so that you were lying on top of it.

As soon as he leaned over the table, you could feel his breath over abdomen, so you bit your lip in anticipation for what was to come.

He began to leave slow, wet kisses on your abdomen, making a slow trail to the edge of your shorts. Your automatic reaction was to close your eyes and put a hand in his hair, stroking it gently.

What you didn’t know is that the fact that you closed your eyes had given Rafe an opportunity he couldn't miss. Without you noticing, he slid a hand to the side of the table, where the small bag of white powder was.

To conceal his actions, he unbuttoned your shorts, and returned his lips to the beginning of your abdomen for more time.

The little bite he left to distract your attention caused a gasp to escape your lips; and that sound almost caused him to change plans completely.

He did want to fuck you, don’t get him wrong. He even had a mental debate about whether to continue what he was doing or simply sink his head between your thighs and provoke more sounds like that.

But he wanted to try something first. He had always wanted to try it, but had never asked you, because he knew that you would most likely say no.

With ease, he slid your shorts down your legs; so that they stayed at your ankles or fell to the floor; he didn't care. One of his hands slid into your underwear with ease, his fingers going straight to where he knew you needed him the most.

Trusting that you would not open your eyes, carefully, he put the white substance on your body, so delicately you didn’t notice. He began to prepare to inhale, while biting his lip in reaction to the sinful sounds that left your lips.

And obviously, without warning, Rafe inhaled a line from your thigh.

And all your sounds stopped, your eyes opened and your expression was filled with surprise, the bad kind.

You couldn't believe what Rafe had just done, you felt like an idiot for falling into the trap.

You also had to bite your lip to keep from letting out a moan in reaction to what his fingers were doing in between your legs, but your pride forbade it.

But more than anything else, you were outraged.

“Rafe, you did not just—“

“It felt nice, yeah?” Rafe’s voice was hoarse, you could feel his breath over your skin, as he left little kisses around. “After all, I did feel you clench around my fingers.”

His dirty words, hoarse voice, and close proximity to your body, not to mention his fingers deep inside you, caused you to let out a soft moan, causing Rafe to smirk in what he thought was victory.

But you wouldn't let him win this little game.

Although you really didn't want to, you grabbed his hand by the wrist and pulled him away, your legs trembling slightly at the sudden lack of anything between them.

Rafe's eyebrows furrowed in confusion as soon as you pushed him away from you and got off the table, lifting your shorts off the floor and putting them back on without a word.

"What are you doing?"

You didn't answer, as you searched for  your shirt, feeling his heavy gaze on your body.

"Y/N, where do you think you're going?"

“I’m leaving you alone as you asked me to, remember?” you said in irony. “Before you sniffed a line off me after I begged you to quit that shit?”

“Oh, so now you’re playing the victim?” his voice rose. “Don't- Don’t act as if you wouldn’t have let me fuck you less than a minute ago!”

"Yes I would have let you, to distract you from that shit!" you admitted to him, failing to control your anger. "I said I wanted to help you, to distract you, to give you something different to do. Not that I'd give you another place to snort lines from!"

Rafe knew you were right, of course he did.

You had spent months after months trying to get him to quit, you had offered him countless hours of your days to give him something new to do, distractions, attention and love. And this is how he had decided to pay you back?

But Rafe was angry too, very. You had interrupted him, you were yelling at him; and you had left him so hard, that it would start to hurt unless he did something about it.

“Fine, then get the fuck out of here.” Rafe spat, his anger clearly getting the best of him.

Your eyes widened at that, you hadn't expected him to react like that.

Your best case scenario would be that your attitude would piss him off, yes, but that he would retaliate by getting you back to the table and showing you everything you were missing.

Instead, he simply took your word for it and told you to get out of the room.

“What?”

“You heard me, get out.”

“Rafe—“

“You uh, you have three options, yeah? You let me fuck you over that table and do whatever I want, you get out of here, or I’ll get you out of here.”

The first offer was tempting, it really was, but you wouldn’t allow him to talk to you like that. Before anything, came respect and dignity, and no matter how much you wanted him to fuck you silly, you were too angry and disappointed at him to let it slip.

Blinking repeatedly to chase away the tears from your eyes, you grabbed your phone from the other end of the table, your jacket from Rafe's bed, and walked out of there without another word as you heard him calling your name.

And maybe in some masochistic way

I kinda find it all exciting

Like, which lover will I get today?

Will you walk me to the door or send me home cryin'?

Your relationship with Rafe was unique.

Not because of the circumstances in which it was created. A one-night-stand that turned into something casual, that was formalized after a dinner.

If not for Rafe.

You loved him, no doubt about it. You would give anything to see him happy and at peace, at peace with himself and succeeding in his life.

Rafe would do anything for you, really, anything. No matter how risky, demanding or dangerous, he would do anything for you.

He would die and kill for you.

But that surely didn’t mean it was an easy relationship, hell no. In fact, the willingness both of you had to do anything for each other sometimes made things too complicated; for at times it seemed that not a single rational thought crossed your minds.

And yes, Rafe’s addiction was a big issue. Whenever he was too high, or going through withdrawals, he wasn’t the Rafe you knew or had grown to love, it was another side of him you wanted to help get rid off. And the process wasn’t easy.

While trying to get clean; there was no way to know how he’d behave. He could either get clingy and want you around at all times to calm himself down, or he’d be in a very bad mood all the time, constantly snapping at you and raising his voice.

So there were days where he’d walk you to the door of your house and leave you there with a tender kiss and a smile.

Or days when you’d get out of his truck without a word, with tears streaming down your cheeks while he kept yelling for probably the stupidest thing.

No, it's back and forth, did I say something wrong?

It's back and forth, goin' over everything I said

It's back and forth, did I do something wrong?

'It's back and forth, maybe this is all your fault

Rafe knew he wasn’t okay. After all, he had begged his father for help, begged for anything that would get those thoughts to stop, but his father hadn’t listened, had only told him to ‘man up.’

You knew he wasn’t okay. Which is why you wanted to help him, to offer the support no one else had bothered to give him before he met you.

Whether he wanted it or not, those thoughts were still there. Being with you made them easier to ignore, but it’s not like they vanished entirely. He still had some ideas that made his own skin crawl.

And sometimes, you’d say or do the wrong thing and trigger those thoughts. And things got bad again for him.

Rafe knew you wanted nothing but to help him get better and be the best version of himself, and he really wanted to give you that. To change and make an effort. Not only for himself but for you. He wanted to be a man worthy of your love.

But it was hard to be anywhere near decent when you two went out and a guy stared at you for longer than Rafe’s limits allowed, or when guys tried to hit on you, when his friends got a little bit too close for his comfort.

Whenever he got jealous, he turned into a walking, talking ticking bomb. Anything could, and would set him off.

It wasn’t your fault, not really, but most of the time you felt it was. You knew Rafe dealt with a lot of insecurities already, of not being a nice person, not being good enough and so many other things. And you hated being one of the factors that caused his insecurities to arise.

And I'd leave you, but the roller coaster is all I've ever had

It was a complicated relationship, and it would probably never stop being complicated because both of you are complex people, plus there are other factors that affect the relationship.

But that didn't mean either of you would stop fighting to keep it alive. Neither would let the other go.

Rafe utterly refused to ever let you go. He loved you as he had never loved anyone, as he never thought himself capable of loving with that twisted heart of his.

You are, without exception, the best thing in his life, the best thing that ever happened to him. And you being in his heart was slowly turning him into who he had wanted to be during all those years of loneliness.

And you would never let him go, because you loved him with all your heart, soul and nerve of your body. And because you know that no one will ever love you like him. With so much passion, intensity, honesty and purity.

Because every feeling Rafe expressed with you was true; he was himself with you. And you didn't want to let him go.

Even if the two of you went one step forward, and three steps back, that single step would be longer than any step life makes you take backwards.

#outerbanks rafe #rafe fic #rafe smut #rafe imagine #rafe cameron #rafe obx #rafe fanfiction #rafe x y/n #rafe fluff #rafe cameron imagine #rafe one shot #rafe angst #drew starkey #outer banks #hes toxic af but i can fix him #rafe cameron one shot #drew starkey imagine #rafe cameron obx2 #obx imagine #outer banks netflix #obx 2 imagines #obx2 #obx one shot #rafe cameron fanfiction

[plaguedocboi]

woah can you tell us about your own ghost experiences? - a nonbeliever always hoping to change my mind

It always sounds a little silly when I try to explain it (it’s a ‘you had to be there’ kinda thing I guess) so I don’t know how convincing this will be but I’ll do my best.

I go urban exploring (which, for those of you who don’t know, is a fancy name for breaking into old abandoned buildings with the intent of looking around and taking creepy pictures). Last summer, myself and my explorer friend heard about a supposedly haunted mansion in the town next to ours, so we decided to check it out.

We head inside and start looking around. This is an absolutely gigantic, labyrinthine house in a fairly advanced state of decay, with collapsing ceilings and broken windows and chock-full of rotting furniture and personal items. It definitely looks “haunted”, in the stereotypical sense. But I’ve been in plenty of creepy places, and I wasn’t terribly worried about ghosts.

Then we get up to the attic. We start looking around. Out of nowhere, I start to feel like I can’t breathe. It felt like someone was constricting my chest and I couldn’t catch my breath. I get dizzy and nauseous and I tell my friend I need to leave. (My friend, by the way, has no symptoms whatsoever, which seems to rule out something physical in the air. I am not allergic to anything, either.)

As we go back downstairs, we stumble upon a room we didn’t see before. It’s full of old medical equipment; unused syringes, pills, and, most notably, a vintage oxygen mask.

Immediately after we step outside, I feel 100% better. Everything just lifted away and I was back to normal. I figured that whatever was happening, we should probably just go home. I then proceed to have the most dramatic mood swings I’ve ever experienced, including, at one point, my friend saying it was angriest he’s ever seen me. There’s no real cause for it, either! I’m just furious and upset and feel so, so terribly empty and alone. I eventually collapse into a fit of sobbing, tell my mom “something horrible happened in that house” and fall asleep.

So, that was weird. But I assumed I’d come up with some rational explanation and move on. Wrong! I can’t get the place out of my head. For months I dwell on it even though I don’t really want to. Eventually I decide I need to go back.

Cue my friend and I returning to the house on Halloween night with a Ouija board (because hey, why not). We did, in fact, have a whole conversation with an entity claiming to be a 54-year old man who died there, who says he projected those feelings into me because he wanted me to feel how he feels. The conversation ends with me asking “should we be afraid of you?” and he responded “yes.”

We promptly got the fuck out of there and haven’t gone back.

#asks #long post #my ghost story

[honeypiehotchner]

That’s When (Hotch x Fem!Reader) -- part three of Bye Bye, Baby

Part three has arrived! Guys, this was so much fun to write and this part made me so weepy. Thank y’all so much for reading <3

Loosely based on “That’s When” by Taylor Swift ft. Keith Urban xx

Summary: Juliet wants to meet Aaron, so you set it up. Things go better than you were expecting.

Warnings: angst, happy ending!

Word count: 3.7k this time EYE

Bye Bye, Baby (part one) || Don’t You (part two) || Hotch Masterlist

You said, “I know,” when I said I need some time, need some space/to think about all of this

You pour the coffee Aaron got you down the drain. You took maybe two sips on your way home.

Juliet is still with Dannie, but she’s on her way now to drop her off. And once Jules is asleep, you’ll be filling Dannie in on everything.

Easier said than done, because Juliet all but refuses to fall asleep.

“Munchkin,” you sigh. “You have school tomorrow.”

“M’not tired.”

You give her a look.

“What’s wrong, Mommy?” She asks out of nowhere. “You look sad.”

“I’m okay, baby,” you whisper, even though you nearly start crying. “Get some sleep. I’ll see you in the morning, okay?”

“French toast for breakfast?”

You chuckle, tapping her nose gently. “French toast. You got it.”

“Love you bunches,” she murmurs, already falling asleep.

You lean over and kiss her forehead. “Love you, munchkin.”

Juliet keeps her eyes closed as you stand and turn off the light, and you don’t doubt that she’s fast asleep by the time you pull her door closed.

Dannie is waiting on the couch, two glasses of wine already poured.

“You know me too well,” you laugh, taking your glass from her. “Thanks.”

“Don’t thank me, it’s your wine,” Dannie grins.

“Right.”

Dannie watches you stare at your wine. Something you never do.

“How’d it go?” She asks. “It looks like it went bad.”

You snort. “Well, it wasn’t great.”

You watched me go/And I knew my words were hard to hear

“Oh boy.” Dannie shifts her body and faces you on the couch, her legs bent underneath her. “Go on.”

“His first question was if she’s his.”

Dannie scrunches her nose in disgust, an expression Jules has picked up from her. “What did you say?”

“That she’s mine, but he is her dad,” you exhale shakily. “I forgot she has his dimples, too.”

Dannie smiles sadly. “Honey…”

“Yeah, it was bad,” you admit. “It was so easy to forget all of that when I was angry and when I was too busy being pregnant,” you joke. “Seeing him just opened that door again.”

You swirl your wine for a second. “He said he wants to meet her. I told him I’d have to ask her first.”

“That’s good,” Dannie nods.

“How do I even bring that up?” You ask, defeated. “And what if she says no?”

“Then she says no,” Dannie shrugs her shoulders. “Then life goes back the way it was.”

You take in a deep breath. “Is it wrong that I kind of want her to say no?”

“I think that’s very motherly of you,” Dannie smiles. “You’ve protected her so well, I hope you know that.”

“I’ve tried.” You take a big sip of wine before your next sentence. “He asked me for a second chance.”

Dannie blinks. “Seriously?”

You nod.

“Did you tell him about the phone calls? He’s ignored you this whole time and now just because he realized he’s a father, he wants a second chance?” Dannie scoffs loudly. “Maybe I want her to say no, too. I hate men.”

You nearly inhale your wine in laughter. “You and me both.”

+++

As it turns out, bringing up Aaron to Juliet is easy. She asks you the next night why you still look sad, and you use it to bring him up.

“I’m not sad, munchkin, I’m just thinking really hard about something.”

Juliet furrows her eyebrows. “What?”

You slide off the couch to sit on the floor next to her where she’s coloring a picture of Elsa. “Remember how I told you that your dad and I don’t talk anymore?”

It was the easiest way to explain Aaron’s absence when Juliet started to ask about it. It was hard to think about because you and Aaron were never married, he didn’t die, and to make matters worse, he had no idea Juliet existed.

She nods, picking up a blue marker. “Yeah, you said adults have to stop talking to each other sometimes.”

“That’s right,” you nod. “Sometimes it’s better for us if we don’t speak. But sometimes, after a while, we can start talking again.”

“Okay.”’

“Well, your dad and I have started talking again,” you pause. “And he said he’d like to meet you. But only if you want to.”

Juliet thinks for a moment, then shrugs, switching to an orange marker. “Okay.”

“Yeah?” You ask, just to be sure. “Where do you want to go?”

“I can pick?”

“Sure can. Wherever you want.”

“Hmm,” she taps her chin for emphasis, and you try hard not to laugh. “What about McDonalds in the park?”

It’s a somewhat tradition of yours to get McDonalds, then go to her favorite park and have a picnic. It’s one of her favorite things to do, so you should’ve known.

“I love that,” you smile. “What about this Saturday?”

“Mhm!” She nods. “Can Dannie come, too?”

“I’ll ask her, but I don’t see why not.”

Juliet is completely satisfied with this answer and goes right back to coloring Elsa.

You chuckle quietly. Kids.

+++

It’s almost noon by the time you get Juliet in the car. And surprisingly, you were the one running behind today. Juliet was ready and sitting on your bed, watching you get dressed before you had even done your hair.

Now, though, you’ve picked up Dannie, and the three of you are headed to McDonalds.

Juliet hasn’t mentioned meeting Aaron once this morning, but she has talked about McDonalds at least four times now.

“How are you holding up?” Dannie asks while Juliet is occupied singing along to ‘Let It Go.’

“Nervous,” you admit quietly. “Thank you for coming.”

“I wouldn’t turn down McDonalds any day,” Dannie scoffs, then turns around to Juliet. “Are you excited?”

Listening to the two of them ramble makes you smile wide, and the drive to the park feels infinitely shorter.

You told Aaron you’d text him when you get there, so he can come over. He said he’d already be there, but for what reason you have no clue.

All you care about is setting out the blanket and getting Juliet to eat her food before she plays with her new Frozen toy.

Truthfully, you’re expecting him to text you and say he called on a case. Not that you blame him because you’ve been there, the BAU is unpredictable like that. But you wouldn’t be surprised.

However, you are surprised when Aaron jogs over.

Yes, jogs.

In shorts, a t-shirt, and sneakers, with sweat clinging to his hair, he jogs over. And you lose all semblance of reality. There’s cotton in your mouth. Good fucking god, he looks good.

“When the hell did you start running?” It's the first thing that comes out of your mouth, and it’s complete word vomit.

Juliet gasps dramatically. “Bad word, Mommy.”

Dannie tries and fails to hold in her laugh.

“You’re right,” you chuckle. “Bad word.”

Aaron, with a smile, answers your question. “The BAU is having a triathlon. I’m training for it.”

“When is it?” You ask without entirely meaning to. You hate how easily you fall right back into conversation with him, how easily he makes you dumbfounded just by his looks.

“In a few weeks, so I’ve got some time,” he breathes. “Mind if I sit?”

You shake your head, scooting over. “Here, I got some nuggets.” You ordered enough for the two of you to share, mostly to save money, but now you’re realizing the implications of it.

You don’t have time to think about that, though, because Juliet has been staring at Aaron for a few moments.

“Munchkin?” You ask. Dannie nudges Juliet’s arm.

“Didn’t you hit us in the grocery store?”

Dannie bursts into laughter then, unable to control it this time, and thankfully, Aaron laughs, too.

“I did,” he nods. “I’m really sorry about that.”

“It’s okay, Aaron,” Juliet says, going right back to her nuggets, sandwiching fries in between two pieces of chicken.

His eyebrows raise and he looks at you.

All you can do is shrug. “She forgets nothing.”

From there, lunch is...uneventful.

Juliet is more focused on playing than she is talking to Aaron, but thankfully, she doesn’t seem upset by him being here.

Dannie asks him a couple questions, mostly standard ones. “What’s the BAU like? I bet the hours suck. You’re unit chief, too, right?”

Aaron answers everything politely, and seems mostly at ease.

After a while, you begin to relax, too.

You have no choice, really, when Juliet feels comfortable to ask questions like, “Are you really my dad? Why weren’t you talking to my mommy?”

Aaron handles the questions like a pro. “I am. Your mom and I needed some time to ourselves, so that’s why we weren’t talking.”

“Adults are weird,” she says, but she seems satisfied with his answers and even hands him her Olaf toy. “I’m gonna go swing.”

Aaron chuckles and sets Olaf in the shade of his leg. “I’ll make sure he doesn’t melt.”

Juliet tilts her head. “He’s a toy, he won’t melt.”

This time you’re the one incapable of holding in your laughter.

“Dannie, come on!” Juliet yells out, giggling when Dannie nearly trips over her feet to stand up.

As they run off, you start picking up Juliet’s trash and stuffing it back in the bag.

“Here, I’ll run it over to the trash can.”

You turn your head to Aaron with a smirk. “You’ll run it over there? Promise?”

He gives you a look.

He doesn’t actually take it over to the trash can because he goes completely still, then says, “She has my eyes.”

You take a deep breath. “Yeah. She does. Your dimples, too.”

He smiles. “Thank god she got your nose, though.”

“What?” You whip your head around. “She has your nose.”

“She does not,” he argues. “And as I said, thank god.”

“Oh, shut up, I love your nose.”

His smile is never-ending. “Really?”

You move on from it quickly. “Thanks for meeting us today.”

“Thank you for letting me.”

You nod slowly, deciding to blurt out what’s been eating at you. “You know, if— If you’re doing this just to get a second chance with me, please don’t.”

“I’m not.”

“Because I don’t need that kind of stress, and Juliet doesn’t either—”

I said, “I know,” when you said I did you wrong/made mistakes, and put you through all of this

“Y/N,” Aaron’s hand rests gently on your arm, getting your attention. He lifts it when you stop talking. “I’m not. I’m doing this because I want to be a part of her life, as her dad. I wasn’t there for her, or you, and I’m sorry. I just want to make it right. Let me make it up to you — to her.”

You stare at him closely, watching. “You mean that?”

He nods. “I do. And I’m so sorry my actions in the past made you think differently of me.”

“I just don’t want her to get hurt,” you murmur. “She’s my baby.”

“I know,” Aaron says. “I know.”

+++

Co-parenting with Aaron is surprisingly easy. Or maybe he makes it easy.

Every Saturday, you and Juliet meet him in the park for a picnic lunch after he’s done training for the triathlon. Sometimes you get there early — which happens nearly every week as Juliet becomes more eager to see him — and you get to cheer Aaron on as he finishes his run.

Dannie comes sometimes, but the few times that she hasn’t have been just as pleasant.

Aaron keeps his word. He does this to spend time with Juliet as her dad, and he doesn’t make any advances on you. The two of you don’t even hug at the end of the afternoon, but Juliet has taken to running and jumping in his arms.

She’s growing more and more attached to him every week, and you hate the dread that you feel. So far, you’ve been lucky. Aaron’s cases have been during the week, so he hasn’t missed a single Saturday — yet.

It’s one of the reasons you are grateful for your transfer at the time four years ago. If you had been in as unpredictable of a job as the BAU when you were pregnant, or when Juliet was born, you have no idea how you would’ve done it. Your job now is a perfect 8 to 5, sometimes 6, but that’s only been a handful of times in the past four years.

Juliet is used to you being there every day. And now, she’s getting used to seeing Aaron every week. You’re just bracing yourself for the time when he has a case and won’t be able to make it.

You try not to think that far ahead, but you can’t help yourself. You were once an agent under him. You know just how crazy the BAU can get. You know exactly what to expect when it gets busy.

Which is why you don’t understand the feelings that are growing inside of you.

You told him he wasn’t getting a second chance — at least not right now. Because you don’t have it in you, and you don’t want to do that to Juliet if it doesn’t work out.

But that was before things started working out.

And you said, “When can I come back?”

Before he never missed a single Saturday. Before he insisted on a birthday dinner when he realized her birthday was a few months ago. Before she started running into his arms. Before he started lifting her up and spinning her around, listening to her giggles as she squealed, “Mommy! I’m flying!” Before she fell asleep on the blanket in the park, and he moved over to shield her from the sun, all while still talking to you.

Now, you don’t know what to do. It sounds awful, but you didn’t expect him to prove himself this well.

You’ve always loved him. That is easy enough to recognize and admit. But you never imagined feeling this way again.

“Mommy?” Juliet pushes your bedroom door open a little.

You sit up, patting your bed. “Good morning, munchkin. C’mere.”

She climbs into bed and right to your side, and you spread the blanket over her, letting her snuggle into your side.

After a moment, you think she’s asleep, but then she whispers, “Are you and dad going to stop talking again?”

You freeze. Up until now, Juliet has called him “Aaron.” Obviously, she knows Aaron is her dad, but she’s never called him that.

“Why do you ask that, baby?” You murmur, kissing the top of her head.

“I don’t want you guys to stop talking again. I like hanging out with him.” She buries her head further into your chest. “He makes me laugh.”

Tears fill your eyes. “He makes me laugh, too.”

“I know,” she smiles into your shirt. “He looks at you a lot.”

“What?”

“When you’re not looking,” she whispers, half-asleep again. “He smiles a lot. He has dimples like me.”

“He does,” you smile softly, wiping your tears away.

+++

The day of the triathlon, Juliet is more than eager to get to the park to cheer Aaron on.

You, on the other hand, feel like you could throw up from the thought of it.

Aaron told you the rest of the team will be there, and you’re grateful for the heads up, but you’re also nervous as shit. You haven’t seen them since your send off party. You haven’t texted with Penelope and Derek in...probably two years now.

He said he didn’t tell the team you’re coming because he didn’t want you to feel pressured, but he also warned you that the team has been questioning him nonstop if he’s seeing someone. He said he’s told them that he isn’t, but of course, they think he’s lying.

Dannie comes with to the triathlon, mainly because Juliet asked her to. It’s been a few days since Juliet has seen Dannie because she was out of town for work, but now she’s back, so Juliet wants her around all the time again.

You’re grateful for Dannie’s presence once again to calm your nerves and offer distractions at every second.

Surprisingly, you don’t see the team anywhere when you arrive, so you, Juliet, and Dannie set up your chairs and blanket peacefully. It’s a while before Aaron will be over here for the run, the last part of the triathlon, so Juliet breaks out her coloring book at your and Dannie’s feet.

You and Dannie spend the wait while idly talking, and after about an hour, the first cheers begin echoing out.

Juliet perks up with the noise. “Is that dad?”

Dannie’s eyes snap to yours and she mouths, “Did she?”

You nod, smiling stupidly. It brings you way more joy to hear Juliet freely call Aaron her dad. Way more joy than you thought.

“Maybe,” you stand up and reach for Juliet’s hand. “Let’s go see.”

Juliet grabs your hand and starts tugging you toward the front, and Dannie follows with a laugh, watching you get drug away by a four-year-old.

A few runners are passing by, but none of them are Aaron. Juliet is watching impatiently, and squeals when Dannie lifts her up onto her shoulders.

“Can you see now, munchkin?” You ask, your hand resting gently on her back, even though Dannie is holding onto her ankles.

Juliet nods. “I see him!”

You look down the way, and you see him, too.

Your lips split into a grin almost immediately. His black shorts, black t-shirt, with his number pinned to the front. His hair is slick with sweat, and yet, you still have a burning desire to run your fingers through it.

Aaron moves to the side, running right next to you, giving Juliet a high five on his way by, and you, too, only when his fingers graze yours, he squeezes.

As soon as he crosses the finish line, Juliet is scrambling out of Dannie’s arms, and when she hits the ground, she runs.

You’re running after her, Dannie too, calling her name, because she really shouldn’t run off like that.

But your nerves calm down the second you see Juliet jumping into her dad’s arms.

Slowing to a walk, you shake your head with a smile as Aaron spins her around, squeezing her tightly.

“Hey,” he says when he sees you. “I’m glad you guys could make it.”

“Me too,” you smile. “She wouldn’t let me miss it,” you nod toward Juliet.

“You’re smelly,” Juliet says out of nowhere, pinching her nose.

Dannie laughs loudly at her comment as Aaron sets her down. But despite her comment, she doesn’t move from next to him.

“Is that who I think it is?” Derek Morgan’s voice floats through your ears.

You turn around to face him, putting your hands on your hips. “Depends, who do you think it is?”

Derek grins wide. “Come here, you.”

You hug him tightly, and over his shoulder you see everyone else, all with shocked looks on their faces. JJ, Emily, Penelope, Spencer, and Rossi, too.

After giving out hugs all around, you look back to see Juliet still clinging to Aaron’s leg.

“Who is this?” Morgan asks quietly, kneeling down to Juliet’s level. “Hey there.”

She eyes him skeptically. “Hi.”

“Munchkin, this is Derek. He’s a friend, too.”

Derek waves.

“Do you like Frozen?” Juliet asks.

Derek nods seriously. “I love it.”

“Hmph,” she wraps her arm tighter around Aaron’s leg. The sight makes you want to crumble. She looks up at Aaron, and says, “Dad?” To get his attention.

Everyone stills. Even Derek.

“Yes, honey?” Aaron replies, kneeling down, too.

“Are they your friends, too?”

He nods. “We’re all really good friends.”

She shrugs. “Okay.” She looks around at everyone, and gasps when she sees Penelope. “I like your bracelet!”

Penelope looks down at it with a smile. “You wanna try it on?”

Juliet practically sprints toward Penelope with a dramatic nod.

While the two of them are playing with Pen’s jewelry, everyone else is looking at you and Hotch with blatantly shocked expressions.

“We’ll explain later,” you offer. “But the answer is yes.”

Rossi, bless him, breaks the awkward, silent tension. “Is anyone else starving?”

You laugh some nerves away. “Yeah, I am. We just need to go pack up our stuff.”

“I can help,” Aaron says.

“Okay, yeah,” you nod, glancing over at Juliet, but her, Penelope, JJ, and Emily are now sitting in the grass, talking animatedly about Frozen.

“I’ll stay over here,” Dannie says, nudging your arm.

“Thank you,” you murmur, trying to hide your dumb smile at the thought of being alone with Aaron, even if for only a few seconds.

Regardless, you try to keep your cool when you turn back to him. “We’re just over here.”

“Lead the way,” he gestures ahead.

You ignore all efforts to hide your smile now as you start walking. He falls into step beside you, his sweaty shoulder brushing yours, but you don’t mind.

And against all of your better judgement, you slide your hand into his.

His surprised look is priceless, and you can’t help the snort of laughter that escapes you. “What? Am I not allowed to make the first move?”

You don’t know if the red on his cheeks is from running or blushing. “No, no, you’re allowed.”

“Good,” you murmur, walking a little closer. Your things are far too close for your liking. You want to walk with him like this for longer.

When you stop next to your chairs, you don’t let go of his hand. He doesn’t let go, either.

“Can I ask something?” He says, squeezing your hand.

“Sure.”

He steps closer, his toes nearly touching yours. “If you make the first move, am I allowed to make the second?”

You can’t help the violent swarm of butterflies in your stomach. “I think that’s how that works.” You pause, tilting your head, gesturing to how close your feet are. “Was that your move?”

He shakes his head. “No. This is.”

That’s when, when I saw your face/You let me in, and baby, that’s when

Aaron’s free hand holds your jaw as he kisses you in the same tender, gentle way that he used to, only this one has four years’ worth of apologies in every touch. You let go of his hand to smooth your hands on his chest, his neck, any place you can touch because it’s been too long. Way too long.

That’s when I want you/That’s when I love you/That’s when

#bye bye baby #don't you #that's when #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #hotch #hotch x fem!reader #hotch x you #hotch x y/n #hotch x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #aaron hotchner angst #angst #aaron hotchner songfic #taylor swift

[scribble-blog]

Happy birthday! I hope you had an amazing day! Could you please do a magically betrothed daminette where Mari and Damian are separated and they both think the other is dead. Twist though, Mari comes to Gotham during a class trip and uses the tiger miraculous because it was her favorite after the ladybug and Damian instantly recognizes her on the roofs and tackles her in a hug. Batfam is confused. Thank you!!!!!

oh boy I just LOVE a good betrothed story ESPECIALLY with the double whammy of thinking your fiance was dead. Thank you!!!!!!

***** “I’ve got eyes on the new one,” Damian relayed into his comm, staring down at where the shadowed figure was- calmly tying up the two muggers he’d been seconds from dropping down and stopping himself.

Except that the figure looked up at him as he spoke, and he sucked in a breath, displeased. They must have some sort of amplified hearing ability- which leant towards Drake’s theory that they were a meta. They didn’t look away, blue feline eyes shining with streetlight reflections and Damian made a decision. “They spotted me. Seems to be waiting. I’m going to speak to them.”

In his ear, multiple voices protested but he turned the comm down to an ignorable level. They seemed familiar, the way they held themselves. The way they watched him. He dropped down, first to a window, then a balcony, then an awning, and then he was in front of her.

He took in the tiger motif for all of a second before he gasped her name, suddenly feeling breathless. It couldn’t be. “Marinette?”

She stilled, eyes narrowed at him, and he waited, desperate for confirmation. And then they widened, recognition like a wave crashing between the two of them. “Damian?”

He lunged for her as soon as he heard her voice, it was her, it was her, and she wrapped her arms around his waist as he grabbed her by the shoulders, holding her close to him once again. He had thought she was dead. He had left her for dead. He had mourned her.

“Robin!” A voice jolted him back to awareness, and he looked up to see Red Hood, barreling out of an alley, ready to fight.

Instinctively, Damian spun, swinging Marinette behind him as his hands came up to ready position, the muscle memory of training with his betrothed at his back coming to him without effort, still as natural as breathing. Behind him, Marinette almost hissed, but he held up a hand and she stopped. She still understood him like this. She still trusted him.

“Hood, stand down,” Damian ordered, turning his comm back up to hear everyone yelling at him. “All of you, stand down. She isn’t a threat.”

The next person to land in the street was his Father, and Damian made an effort to relax from his defensive pose, feeling Marinette do the same beside him.

“Explain,” Batman ordered, voice low. Damian took a breath, for once discomposed, wondering where to even start.

“My name is Shere,” Marinette said before he could try, stepping up to Damian’s side. He can’t stop himself from shooting her a look, remembering when she told him she’d rather be the tiger than ladybug. “And I’m your son’s betrothed.”

Damian turned the volume back down in an instant, still feeling assaulted by the sound that blasted from the earpiece. He winced at the amount of talking to his siblings this development would require, but Marinette’s hand was still in his, clinging tight despite her projected air of confidence. “I thought she was dead.” He said, hearing everyone shut up to hear what he’s saying.

“I thought you were dead,” she said, head turning back to him so fast he thought she should have whiplash. “You were the one who got shot.”

“The building fell on you!” He shouted back, the anger building under his skin and buzzing. “This whole time you’ve been okay?”

“And you’ve been gallivanting around Gotham as Robin?” She pointed her finger in his face, stepping closer. “I’ve been trying to forget you for seven years! I thought we were going to get out together, D- Robin,” She stumbled over his name, stopping herself at the last. “And I mourned you and I tried to move on and you were just… across the ocean.”

“You wanted to forget me?” The words felt like a punch, worse than anything else. “I couldn’t.”

“I couldn’t either,” She sniffed, eyes still narrowed in anger but with tears beginning to gather along her lashes. He took her hand in both of his, lowering it between them.

Jason interrupted any answer he might have made. “As bafflingly sweet as this is, what the actual fuck.”

***** Taglist!

@ash-amg @athena452 @lady-bee-fechin @dramatic-squirrel @dreamykitty25 @iloveitwhen @pr-y-sha @novaloptr @redscarlet95 @vixen-uchiha

#maribat #maribat fic #daminette #daminette fic #betrothed au #oh i LOVED this its such a fun prompt #Also. Jason only goes bc it's so rare that Damian needs backup he wants big brother blackmail opportunities and INSTEAD #he finds Damian... HUGGING SOMEONE????

[warmau]

☆ [nostalgic] summer romance!au jisung another late birthday au for the february neos ;__; find others here: johnny | haechan | taeil | taeyong | mark | jaemin | yangyang | yuta | sicheng | chenle | kun | yukhei | doyoung | jaehyun | jungwoo | ten

a sour taste makes its way down jisung's throat

he pulls the candy out of his mouth and scrunches his face up

"did this shit expire?"

renjun's lips thin, "since when have you started cursing?"

chenle harks on the grass beside the other two

"ever since he got dumped."

jisung doesn't disagree.

out of everyone to pick up on his change of habits, it'd be his best friend.

he doesn't like to admit it, but the breakup that launched the beginning of his summer has made him feel different

bitter, angry, empty

he's sure if he told someone older like his parents or a professor they'd explain that it's normal.

it's part of growing up to have to process these horrible emotions and learn to feel them less extremely.

that somehow doesn't comfort jisung at all, why is it his fault that being young makes everything feel more vivid? the shatter of the heart in his chest and all the little pieces wedged up in his veins hurt so bad.

"jisung, you'll find someone better."

renjun ties his shoelaces and gets up, he's still chewing on the taffy they brought from the corner store.

jisung follows and he's never been so awkward about his budding height more than he is now

"i doubt that, i don't think i could find anyone better than my first love."

chenle gives a depressed sounding laugh and renjun starts a spiel about how he's being dramatic and silly

the sounds gloss over in jisung's ears, he tosses the candy he'd spit out and the wrapper over his shoulder

"you shouldn't litter."

three sets of eyes turn to the voice, you stand there with your gym bag over your shoulder on a path a little way down from the grassy hill the boys are on

you look at jisung with an unwavering gaze that drops to where he assumes the candy wrapper landed

you bend down and pick it up, shake your head and walk away

jisung follows your figure through the park as renjun and chenle mutter about how you're kind of right but kind of rude

"do you know them?"

jisung asks and renjun taps the bottom of his chin

"i think ive seen them at the tennis courts."

jisung doesn't know what it is about you.

he mistakenly thinks it is dislike that breeds curiosity when he shows up at the public tennis court the next day

you're out on the court with a group of middle schoolers, showing them the right way to swing a racket

jisung leans against the shade of a tree as you go through each step slowly and then have the kids copy you one by one

when you make a sudden movement to turn in the direction he's standing, he slinks behind the trunk

this is so fucking weird, im being a creep

he doesn't have anything to do for the rest of the day, or the rest of the summer, but still he cringes at himself

i should find something better than staring at a goddamn stranger. chenle was right, im cursing way too much.

so he leaves and he doesn't come back

but he visits the park for the next week with the slight hope that your path will cross with him on accident

not that he entertains that as actual hope - just that curiosity that nips at his heel like a cat asking to be feed

on day seven it happens

jisung is staring up at the expanse of the warm blue sky and you're walking from the direction of the tennis courts, you pause to check your phone and jisung springs to his feet

he's in front of you before he really knows what to even say

you don't look as freaked out as he was scared you might, you actually just blink and then point your finger at him

looks like they've got bad habits just like me

"you're the boy who litters!"

"i don't usually litter, i was just in a bad mood that day."

"doesn't excuse throwing your garbage around."

"is that why you remembered me?"

you slip your phone into the pocket of your duffel bag and shake your head

"no, there's another reason."

jisung itches to ask why but he realizes now that this conversation is going exponentially better than it could have

you could have said something like get the hell away from me....or who are you?

"do you want to walk with me for a little bit?"

fuck, i should have just asked why - asking them to walk is weirder

"why not."

you and jisung do loops around the park - it's pretty big so by the time you're on the third loop the night lamps are coming on and the sun is slowly disappearing

you two have talked about everything and nothing at the same time

jisung asks you if you're going to be at the park tomorrow

"i teach a summer tennis course for the park three times a week, but tomorrow is my off day."

"have any plans?"

he puts his hands in his pockets because they're sweating - i should have asked if they wanted me to carry their bag while we were walking. god did getting broken up with make me so stupid too?

"are you asking me out?"

jisungs palms stick to the fabric of his pants

"i got broken up with before summer started."

he blurts out before he can take it back, you poke your tongue into your cheek

"me too."

the genuine surprise makes jisung look younger than he is and you cross your hands over your chest as if you regret sharing the information

"sorry, i have to go."

you edge around him and jisung has one million thoughts run through his brain, how he should apologize or ask for your number or suggest something that could heal you both in the snap of this one summer minute

but instead he watches you walk ahead for a whole two minutes before you turn on your heel and uncross your arms

"can you meet me here at noon?"

"tomorrow?"

jisung feels the sweat on the nape of his neck now too, matching the moistness on his palms

"no, in twenty years. yes - tomorrow."

he nods and you don't give him anything else to work with as you disappear and jisung catches the last little slither of sunlight wave goodbye with you

"are you rebounding already?"

chenle's voice comes through the headphones as jisung clicks on a zombie with his mouse and shoots it

"it's not a rebound - we both got dumped so i thought we could like...FUCK! i died dude."

chenle groans

"maybe they can help you fix this cursing problem, but uhhh it totally sounds like a rebound to me."

jisung thinks about that as he waits for you at the park

rebounding has actually never even occurred to him as a possibility.

then again falling head over heels and getting tossed aside by the person he thought was his soulmate also never occurred to him as a possibility either - especially not before he's even managed to graduate university

but using someone to feel better about himself - that just isn't him.

"oh you actually came?"

he stops staring at the grass and meets the half smile you're wearing. he matches it with a shy one of his own.

you take jisung's hand easily - as if you weren't strangers a week ago - and tug him toward the park gates

"where-"

you look over your shoulder

"we have to eat ice-cream on a date."

jisung and you have the same taste, getting the same flavor of ice cream with a hard no to sprinkles. you tell jisung about this kid you teach privately for tennis and how he's a little rich brat but his parents always tip you nicely. jisung tells you that his best friend is chenle and they met when he nearly broke an elbow on the first day of middle school.

jisung pays for your bus ticket into the busier part of the city, you beat him at a couple of arcade games, and then he absolutely crushes you at mini-basketball. you pile all your tickets together and jisung tells you to pick the prize you want.

he watches you as you scan the cheap toys and then turn to your left where a younger girl is trying to see if she has enough for a sad looking stuffed panda

you dump the tickets into her hand and grin when her whole face lights up, jisung walks out behind you and goes

"you're actually nice aren't you?"

"oh - you didn't think i was nice when we first met?"

"i-"

jisung stutters when you look directly at him

"i just mean you- it was nice what you did in the arcade."

"why did your ex break up with you?"

jisung's world sort of stops for a moment. you still haven't looked away and he gets lightheaded by the sudden question.

"i don't know."

you nod, as if the answer is what you expected, and you take his hand again and make way toward the bus

he curls his larger fingers around yours and is silently thankful you don't ask for any more details

actually you both don't say anything the ride back, even though you rest your head on his shoulder the entire time

your hands are still clasped together and jisung finds himself not wanting to let go even when you stop in front of the park again

"thanks for the date."

you unwind your fingers first and jisung swallows

"do you want to go on another one?"

you shake your head

"sorry, i don't think i can do this more than once."

genuine shock sets in on jisung's face

"w-what do you mean?"

"i know being heartbroken makes you lonely, it makes me lonely too, but i can't just be someone's summer fling and get abandoned again. plus jisung -"

you tilt your head with a small laugh

"i think you're really cute and if we do this again i will start liking you seriously."

what the fuck do i say?

jisung thinks the summer heat in the air constricts around him - especially when he can't open his mouth to answer and you give a solemn wave as you turn and start to disappear down the sidewalk

fuck fuck fuck fuck

the curses start to hurt his brain and jisung breaks into a sprint to catch you before you make it to the end of the block

slipping his hand back into yours and spinning you to face him

"im not going to abandon you. and i - i already like you so please let me take you on another date."

the words fall out like letters into alphabet soup and you stare wide-eyed at him for about a second before you lean in and kiss him

and jisung forgets the entire language he's spoken since he was a child, curses and vulgarity gone with it

the second date comes and goes, then the third, and then the fourth, fifth, and sixth.

jisung watches you give tennis lessons and you even tug him onto the court one day to help with picking up the scattered balls off the court

the younger kids you teach really adore him, tall and smiley, they cling to him more than they do to you

and there really isn't any way you can stop them because soon enough you feel that urgency to be near him always too

it might be because jisung is so different from your ex, and you are so different from his

the reality is that when you finally tell each other what happened before your respective summers started

it turns out - it's almost exactly the same

jisung looks up at you as you lay across him in the tall grass of an empty corner of the parks sprawling fields, your tennis equipment abandoned and his shoes sitting beside yours in a lazy heap

"they just told me one day i wasn't enough."

you bury your face in his chest and sigh

"maybe im not, maybe something about me is still missing."

the tenor of his voice is sad and you put both hands on the grass to lift yourself up above him, you stare down into the prettiest eyes you've ever seen on a boy in your life

"shuttup park jisung. nothing is missing from you. you're enough."

he gives you a goofy smile and you want so badly to smile back and kiss him but you take the moment seriously and add

"remember when you asked me if i only remembered you because i caught you littering like weeks ago?"

the furrow of his eyebrow is enough of an answer

"i said there was another reason."

he sits up and you fall gently back against his knees and lap, jisung opens his mouth as if to ask what it was but you put your hands on both his cheeks before he can

"that reason was because i could see all of you - people tend to be shrouded in something, but it was all on your face the moment you made eye contact with me. jisung - you're the farthest person i know from being incomplete. you're you and no one else."

the weight of your words comes crashing down on you a second later and you get up off of jisung in a fit of embarrassment

even though you meant what you said it felt like something of a wedding vow than something you say someone you've been dating for only a month

but jisung just breaks into a bigger smile - he pulls you back down into a hug that gets you both covered in grass stains

"im so happy"

you smell the fabric softener on his t-shirt and suddenly wish you could slip it off of him and put it on yourself

his hands tighten around you

"i always thought the other reason was because i was ugly or something."

you scrunch up your nose and tell him to be quiet, but jisung just laughs and buries his nose in your hair

the rest of the summer is smooth and the happiest one you've had so far - and jisung, who had thought it would be hell, agrees

renjun points out that he hasn't heard jisung even utter the word 'damn' since he started dating you

and chenle cuts in that it's true - now whenever they game jisung just groans into the mic (or abandoned the game completely to fool around you with - as it is in chenle's imagination)

you notice it too, and you notice how everyday jisung grows further from the heartbreak that he had festered on for so long

and just becomes more open with you

on your last day at your summer job and what feels like the last day of summer in general, jisung picks you up with balloons

you both hand them out to the kids you worked with and keep one shaped like a big red heart tied around your wrist as you two walk through the dimming evening of the park

fall is coming, your shoulders shake and jisung pulls you closer into him, and when he stops suddenly

you see that you're in the place where you first met - when jisung had let that candy wrapper tumble down a grassy hill and you had picked it up with disdain

"is untying the balloon and letting it float off considered littering?"

he asks and you think for a second

"probably, it'll get stuck in a tree somewhere and we don't want that."

he looks down and leans in to kiss you gently, letting your lower lip sit between his teeth for a moment before he pulls away

"can we do it anyway to make the moment special?"

you look at him, eyes clear as day, and answer

"every moment is special with you."

jisung manages to get ten of those red balloons through the door of your shared apartment on your tenth anniversary

you fret about how balloons are bad for the environment, but still launch yourself at him in a big hug when he gets them all settled into your living room

he catches you, laughing as you both muse that you can't believe it has been ten years since you met

"and i haven't cursed once since then - can you believe it?"

you roll your eyes and say yeah sure, like he didn't curse when he stubbed his toe on your bed this morning

he pouts his lip and asks, "play along ok - just say i haven't cursed once."

"you haven't cursed once in the ten years we have been dating."

something twinkles in jisung's eye and you bite back your lip

"exactly - so is it ok if i curse this one time and say-"

he fishes something out of his pocket that looks like a small box, you think your breath catches in your throat

"i fuc-freaking love you - will you marry me?"

#i know this is read from jisung's perspective in the beginning but i didn't know how else to get across the like cursing thing #if i wasnt writing from his kind of vision but like the turning point shifts to the reader #anyway none of you give a fuck so ill stop talking #nct scenarios #nct dream scenarios #park jisung #jisung scenarios #jisung au #jisung imagines #nct imagines #nct dream imagines #nct dream au #nct dream #sfw #cursing/ #nostalgia

[secondhand-trash]

There’s (supposed to be) only one bed

A/N: lmao I wasn’t gonna write anything for bakugou’s bday but I was chatting with @redbeanteax​ about this prompt list idea I have and it just seems to fitting for him for me to pass on. I’m sorry for doing this to him on his bday I guess LOL

If you want more Bakugou, there’s a B(akugou).B(irthday).B(ash) goig on rn! You can find the other creator’s work here^^

Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki x reader

Warning: shamelessly suggestive but I won’t say it’s nsfw lmao

Word count: 1056

“I am fucking gonna write a letter to their management,” Bakugou slammed the sturdy door shut and let out a displeased ‘tsk’ when it did not come out as loud and aggressive as he had hoped it would be, “no, I’m calling the head of the hotel company-”

“Baby, your PR team will cry,” you sighed as you sat on the smooth sheets of your hotel bed.

Note, yours, as in, you on your own.

“Fucking-” he sucked in a deep breath, running his palm down his strong jaw to stop himself from letting the string of curses that sat on his tongue run free.

You almost wanted to chuckle at his state. You did not think you had heard him cuss so much ever since he grew out of his hedgehog phase in high school but since you knew him well enough to know there would be no turning back if the giggle slipped through, you bite the inside of your cheeks and held it in.

“It’s fine,” you leaned over the mattress to tuck at his sleeve, “two beds aren’t that different to one.”

“Huh?” he barely let you finished before snapping his gaze towards you.

Bakugou Katsuki had a lot of plans on how his birthday was supposed to go.

He was not really one for birthdays in all honesty. Replying to messages and fan comments were a hustle he did not want to deal with and his head ached just from seeing the “99+” when his publicist sat him down every year because he needed to cash in on that parasocial relationship. Then work would have to continue like always, villains weren’t going to stay in for the day because it was your birthday. Actually, now that he thought of it, he was almost sure that there were people going out of their way to aggravate him more just because it was his birthday. Then he would have to work facing the mountain of presents and letters for the next several weeks until they finally found places in the storage unit to put them to the side. God knows how angry people would get if even just one letter addressed to Great Explosion Murder God Dynamite.

People only seemed to want to call him by his full hero name when it’s a special occasion which was another thing he held pettiness over, but that was a whole different story.

The thing was, he actually managed to get a day off hero work this year, finally, after years of packing schedules together only to have something tricky thrown to his hands when he was so near scoring that sweet sweet vacation. The first thing he did when he got the confirmation was to call that luxury hotel he knew you had wanted to book secretly for your anniversary in the coming month. He thought it was insanely cute how you wanted to surprise him but hell, why wait when it could happen now. 

He reserved the nicest room they had to offer, the one that was a suite and had a built-in massage tub in the bathroom. He had seen pictures of it before, the whole thing was right in front of a wall-length window and facing towards the sea. He paid the deposit immediately when he thought of all the things you could do separately or together in that tub, in front of the window, looking out towards the sea.

You screamed at him when he sent you the screencap of his bill without saying a word. “I’m supposed to be the one surprising you, not the other way around!” 

Your irritated voice from the other end of the phone made him smirk. “Now, I think I gave you plenty of hints on what to do for me already,” he laughed as you fell into silent, cutting the call right when you got the hint and started going off on him again.

He did not specifically bring it up again, but he was looking forward to the day. Bakugou knew that you made dinner reservations without telling him when he saw the confirmation text from the hotel in your notifications but remained quiet about it, humming a soft tune as he turned away like he saw nothing. He ordered for champagne to be sent to your room at night, the kind that both of you liked a little too much. You were clicking into your emails after you woke up one morning to see that you had been subscribed to an email list for a lingerie company you did not recognise.

‘Demanding,” you rolled your eyes with a smile before clicking into the link, going straight to the ‘all items’ page and started scrolling.

There was no way you did not get the hint, and he was thrilled about it.

Now imagine how he felt when he was told that the hotel had an error in his system and gave him the wrong room, one with two twin beds instead of a double bed.

He was so close to losing it at the poor staff who checked you in and had to tell him that they ran out of other rooms with a large bed.

As he stood between the painful space between the two beds, you were sure you could see steam rising from his head.

“Twin beds aren’t that bad,” you said, not with much certainty.

He huffed, “Is that so.”

“You can still fuck me into a twin-sized bed,” you suggested.

You could see the jump at his pulse point right below his jaw, and bite back the smile that was crawling up onto your face.

You got up and pouted dramatically before taking his hand again, swinging it back and forth as you step closer to him. “Besides,” you said, leaning into his face, “we still have the wall-length window.”

He gulped. You could hear him gulp. The scowl on his face slowly eased away, until the imagery you successfully coaxed into his head brought a sly grin onto his lips.

“I also got a new set,” you tilted your head when you felt his hand creeping onto your waist, “wouldn’t you want to see?”

The bed size suddenly didn’t bother him anymore when it was at just the convenient location for him to push you down on.

#bnha x reader #bnha imagines #bnha imagine #bakugou x reader #bakugou imagine #bakugou imagines

[hydrangeasimagination]

hihi! can i have some kaidou, aren, and saiki k dating headcanons? thank you!!! ☺️❤️

I kinda wanted to explore what it's like to date them after high school and they've grown up some more.

So, they're in college!!

Gender Neutral, of course -

~ Dari

Kaidou Shun

still fairly dramatic once the pair of you settle into a relationship - lovingly referring to you as the being that the gods blessed him with

he's switches back and forth between hamming up his character and being just completely normal, if not a little awkward

you probably have to be under some pretty heavy scutiny because of how his mother is but if you both attended the same college, it's safe to say that you're smart enough

stops wearing bandages but is unused to feeling the warmth and softness of your hands so he will just shut down occasionally if you hold his hand or arm - god forbid you start tracing his hands

not strong but very handy, fixing things through your place is something he can do pretty well

dates mostly consist of daredevil things he wants to try and seem like he likes, but he'd really just prefer something else - usually if you make it seem like you're nervous or scared then he'd take you somewhere else

even if Shun acts like an extrovert, would like to take time away from the bustle of college life just to spend some time with you without the pressure of homework or lectures or deadlines

brings you home at least one item whenever he gets home from work, usually something small to show you that he's been thinking about you

Kuboyasu Aren

honestly didn't expect to get this far into a relationship but hey, he's really invested and intent on not letting you go if you didn't want to leave

Aren's kinda grown out of the whole instant marriage thing because he realizes it likely wasn't the most realistic, but he plans to have this for the long term and hopefully marriage is in the future if the both of you are ready

a good mixture of gentleman and bad boy; being confident without being a jerk, especially to you - as you're special to him

motorcycle rides and dates where he just takes you wherever, finding little hole in the wall joints and discovering new places to go to

the both of you either work or attend college so it's likely finding time is difficult but he tries hard to make things work and set aside time for you

will absolutely throw down for you, no hesitation, his hands will swing and the people that have a problem with you will be fucked up - his fists are rated E for everybody

probably scares the shit out of rude people, especially if they have the balls to disrespect you in front of him

he'll never go straight to violence if you're not okay with it though and is likely to just glare and shuffle you away instead

Saiki Kusuo

also a protective boyfriend - it's a given after all, if he's drawn to you then it's likely there will be others that follow

does not give one shit if his brother approves or not and somewhat continues dating you out of spite towards him, displaying affection in a manner that makes you a little confused and flustered since it is unusual

honestly though, if you both are attending college and have stable jobs enough to support rent for a small place - he wants to move in with you

mostly as one of the reasons Kusuo got with you is because he can be around you for extended periods of time without being annoyed or feeling the need to seclude himself - also that living with you sounds very nice

doesn't usually need to read your mind when your expressions change, able to kind of tell what you need or want based around your mannerisms

date nights are usually inside or at cafes, the pair of you also will go to expos having to do with the games or anime you're into and get new merch and things of the like

also baking/cooking together, truly an image of domestic bliss at its peak

a fan of your affection, will seek you out just for that - being older and more away from chaotic friends meant that he was less stressed so he's way more mellow

#the disaster of psi kusuo saiki #saiki k #saiki kusuo no ψ nan #Kaidou Shun #kaidou shun x reader #kuboyasu aren #kuboyasu aren x reader #saiki kusuo #saiki kusuo x reader #reader insert #x reader #x reader insert #gender neutral reader #headcanons #request asks #dari writes