#and somehow got a hamburger out of it

[bisexualelphie]

julie e os fantasmas (original julie and the phantoms) was so wild. like, what do you mean the boys were crushed to death by a truck? what do you mean julie has committed more than one crime? what do you mean the main triangle consists of a rockstar with a closet dnd player vs a my chemical romance revenge era rejected song? what do you mean the ghost love interest was a menace to society in life and public enemy number 1 in death? what do you mean he was tortured more than once? what do you mean there was a dude trying to enslave ghosts and this plotline only lasted two episodes????

#julie e os fantasmas #julie and the phantoms #julie and the phantoms og #this show shaped my entire personality #it was my childhood #i didn't realize how wild it was until i watched it as an adult #the one with the creepy teacher is particularly crazy #he actually breaks into julie's house and finds a way to physically torture GHOSTS #i love the remake but the original shaped me y'all don't understand #and i love luke but daniel is just so iconic #i wasn't lying about him being a menace #the dude broke into a hotel (by pushing the lobby guy and running) and caused chaos just to get his idol to listen to his band's music #and somehow got a hamburger out of it #and not only is he (all three of them are #but demetrius targets daniel specifically) being chased by the chief of the ghost police #he also completely throws 500 years of ghost laws out the window by causing a rebellion with just one story #“i never followed the rules when i was alive i'm not gonna follow them now that i'm dead” he took that seriously #also julie thinks cheating at school is wrong but she has no problem with breaking into places or potentially injuring thalita #her pettiness knows no boundaries lmfao #they truly are meant for each other 🤩 #too bad he's dead #daniel every two episodes: i could make her worse #while he doesn't know that most of the crimes julie commits are of her own volition #i love my angsty little criminals #juliel #julie x daniel

[watchmegetobsessed]

THE USUAL

A/N: i fell down a rabbithole of AI pics and this was inspired by those👀

WORD COUNT: 2.2k

SUMMARY: It's a slow day at the diner, everyone is in a post-Christmas haze. However yours clears up when your favorite stranger shows up, smug as always but this time some nasty bruises are all over his handsome face.

MASTERLIST | SUPPORT ME!

The days after Christmas feel like you’re just floating through the void. Nothing feels real, you have no sense of time and it’s all a blur.

This year you’re working on the 27th, most of your colleagues have families so you wanted them to have an extra day at home. All that’s waiting for you at home is your leftover takeout, unfolded laundry and reruns of Home Alone. Working at least gets you out of your cave.

It’s always a slow day, the diner is almost entirely empty, only a few of the regulars are occupying their usual spots by the counter or in their booth. It’s just you and Molly, the college girl waiting tables, she was keen on escaping her family as soon as possible after the holidays, and then Jeff is back in the kitchen probably playing on his phone, because it’s so dead here. 

You like to keep yourself busy even when there’s nothing to do. Wipe down the tables, rearrange the shelves, get rid of old receipts from behind the counter. In a weird way this place feels like a second home, you’ve spent most of your time here the past three years, working 50 hours a week usually. Of course you like to keep it clean and organized. 

You’re watering the plants when you near the booth in the corner and you can’t help but think of who usually occupies it. You can see his signature smile in front of you, the way his eyes follow your every move, his smooth voice is ringing in your ears as he greets you. You know so many tiny details about him, yet you know he is just a stranger. You know his name, his order, you know how you get butterflies in your stomach every time the bell rings above the door and you see him walk in, but nothing more.

He is a mystery. A very handsome one, might you add.

It’s been weeks since the last time he wandered into the diner, but still, every time a tall curly haired man walks inside, for a split second you think it’s him, as if you’re expecting him to show up. 

A family of four comes in around five so at least you have a table to tend, they order hamburgers and pancakes and you listen to the kids rave about the gifts they got from Santa. 

Once they leave you clean up after them and grab the trash to take out. You’re mindlessly humming the song that was playing inside as you drag the bags out to the back where the containers are. The lighting is not the best out here, you’re usually cautious when you step out after sunset, but somehow you’re too caught up in your thoughts to look around this time. So when you throw one of the bags into the container and a tall figure steps closer from somewhere next to it, you jump with a squeak.

“Not even a proper scream, Darling? What if it was someone else?”

Harry, your mysterious stranger walks over to you with a charming smirk, his hands hidden in the pockets of his leather jacket. 

“Shut up, why were you hiding there?!” you scold him with a hand on your chest as you wait for your pulse to slow down. 

“Was just having a cig, no hiding.”

“Why didn’t you come inside?”

“Mm, I think I need the cold air right now.”

It’s only now that you notice the nasty bruise on the side of his face. A curl is kind of covering it, but it’s noticeably there and very likely fresh. There’s a cut too, obviously bloody and it hasn’t been treated. 

“Harry…” you breathe out as you step closer and without hesitation, you reach up, brush his hair out of his face to see his wound. The pad of your finger touches the cut and his face flinches the tiniest bit before he moves his head away, the smug look back on his face.

“Nothing to worry about.”

“You’re bleeding.”

“And you’re worrying,” he cheekily replies.

“What happened?”

“Just a bit of a disagreement,” he shrugs his shoulders.

Your gaze moves down his arms subconsciously, because somehow, deep down you know that if someone did this to him, there’s no way he didn’t fight back. And if he did, then his hands…

He notices you staring at his hidden hands and with a defeated sigh he pulls them out, revealing his bruised knuckles. 

“Nothing to worry about?!” you snap as you take his right hand, running the pad of your thumb over the dark red, purple and almost black marks gently. 

“It’ll heal. Not my first rodeo.”

It was supposed to be a joke, you see the smirk on his face, but it just bubbles anxiety in the pit of your stomach, thinking of all the times he ended up beaten up before. You feel silly for caring so much, it shouldn’t matter, but you can’t help it. 

“Hey,” he says, seeing the look on your face, his voice now soft and tender as his bruised hand takes yours. “I’m fine, really. I didn’t mean to worry you, that’s why I didn’t go inside.”

“Then why did you come here?”

You look him in the eyes as he hesitates before answering.

“Wanted to see you. I saw you through the window and decided not to go inside. I was about to leave when you came out.”

He sounds honest and you’re not sure what to think of his words. He gets into a fight, comes here to see you but then doesn’t come inside so you don’t see his wounds. Why did he come here? Were you his first thought?

“Let me clean that cut up,” you then say, ignoring the butterflies in your stomach that are now very much awake. 

“No need, Darling. I’ll be fine–”

“I know you’re a big boy and you’ll be fine on your own, but let me do this one thing so I’ll worry less about you.”

His lips press together into a thin line before he finally nods. He lets go of your hand and grabs the other trash bag you dropped when he came out of the dark, he throws it into the container and gestures for you to go inside, he’ll be following you. 

It’s still just as dead inside as before, so no one notices when you bring him into the restroom that’s for the staff. He closes the toilet seat and sits on top, watching you snatch the first aid kit from under the sink. 

“How was Christmas?”

He asks while you grab everything you need from the kit and angle his head so you see the cut clearly. It looks worse in the light, but you swallow down your theories of how he got it and just start to clean it.

“Fine. Quiet.”

“No big family get together?”

“No family,” you correct him with a straight face and you see the surprise on his face. He stays quiet for a bit before speaking up again.

“You spent it alone?”

“Yeah.”

“What about friends?”

“Don’t have many. I’m usually working. I like my colleagues but we’re not close enough to spend Christmas together,” you explain with a shrug, gently tapping a cotton ball drenched in alcohol on the cut, earning a hiss from him. His hand comes up to your hip out of instinct and you stop at the feeling of his fingers digging into your skin. His grip is firm and warm and it makes you think of how it would feel if you weren’t wearing your uniform. 

Your eyes lock with his for a second before he removes his hand.

“Sorry.”

You just shake your head, almost disappointed at the lack of his touch, but force yourself to return to the cut.

“So then spend Christmas with me next year,” he speaks up after a while, the corners of his mouth curling up in a cheeky grin.

“Sure,” you chuckle.

“I’m serious. We can have a feast, watch Christmas movies, anything you want.”

“Don’t you have anyone to spend the holidays with?”

“I’m usually with friends, but I would trade that in a heartbeat to be with you.”

Oh fuck, he is so smooth!

He is definitely turning you into a giddy little girl, as if he knew what to say to make you melt, but you try your best to mask just how much his words affect you. Shaking your head with a smile you just continue tending to his wound without a word. 

“Ow, she is silent, not a good sign,” he teases you as you put on a few butterfly bandages on the cut to help it heal prettier. “Did I say something wrong?”

“Nope,” you shake your head avoiding looking at him. “And you’re all done.”

You turn back to the sink, busying yourself with packing up the kit, but you see him standing up in the mirror and stepping right behind you, so close that if you leaned just a tiny bit back, you’d bump against his chest. 

“Y/N, would you look at me with those pretty eyes, please?” he asks and you have to take a deep, shaky breath before forcing yourself to look up and meet his gaze in the mirror. He brings his face down a bit, so his cheek brushes against the side of your head and you finally give in. 

Moving your weight back you lean against him and his arms curl around your waist instantly, as if he’s been waiting for this all along. His embrace is welcoming, warm and you fit into his arms perfectly. 

“Thank you,” he murmurs, his eyes never leaving yours in the mirror.

“It’s just a few bandages,” you whisper.

“No, not for that. Thank you for caring, Y/N.”

Your knees would probably give up if he wasn’t holding you up. His words sink into your mind and burn into your memory forever. Even if you never see him again, you’ll remember this moment for the rest of your life, how he just made you feel, how the connection felt unbreakable and irresistible.

Not able to speak, you just let yourself sink further in his hold, turning your head a bit so his lips meet with your forehead. You’re not sure if they just brush against your skin or he kisses you, you’re burning up way too much to decide but whichever it is, it’s just drawing you even closer to him.

His hands move to your hips and he gently turns your body until you’re facing him, wedged between him and the sink. His eyes find yours again and you imagine a thousand possible things that could happen right now. Yet, when he opens his mouth, the words still surprise you.

“I care about you too.”

Your lips part and you suck on your breath. Maybe it’s his charm, maybe it’s the force pulling you towards him or maybe it’s how long you’ve been on your own, but you feel so weak yet so courageous in this moment. His eyes flicker down to your lips and you know what’s about to come and you are so ready–

“Y/N? You in there?”

Molly’s voice is coming from outside with a knock on the door, completely shattering the moment.

“Yeah,” you call out. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s just that woman, Jo, I think? She’s here and she only wants you to take her order.”

Jo is a regular and she always insists on having you as her waitress, because she thinks only you know how to put her order in right. You do nothing differently, but she doesn’t know that.

“I’ll be out in a minute.”

You wait until you hear her footsteps go down the hallway. Harry moves back just enough so that he is not pressed up against you anymore and he runs his thumb over his bottom lip while you put the first aid kit away.

“I need to go back.”

“I know,” he smiles at you. “Is my booth free?”

“Yes.”

“Good, I’m feeling quite hungry.”

His eyes return to your lips and you know he is not talking about the food right now and you wish to have just a little more time with him right now, but you need to go out. 

“You can’t come out from here,” you simply tell him. So when you step out of the restroom you turn him towards the back door and give him a push. You hear his chuckle, but he doesn’t protest, just walks out.

When you return Molly is eyeing you with suspicion and you wonder if she heard Harry’s voice in the restroom before knocking, but you ignore her and start stacking the glasses.

The front door opens, the bell rings and you don’t have to look up to know that it’s Harry.

“Good evening, ladies,” he greets you and you finally glance at him only to see that smug smirk on his face as he walks over to his usual booth and slides in. 

“I assume you’re taking him, right?” Molly asks with an arched eyebrow.

“Yeah,” you say, grabbing a menu even though you know what he’ll order and walking over to his booth with your notepad and pen you stop by the table and look at him, unable to hold back a smile. “What can I get you?”

“The usual, Darling.”

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!

#harry #styles #harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles oneshot #harry styles one shot #harry styles fluff #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #harry styles blurb

[judeslove]

opposites attract

pairing - jude bellingham x reader (reader wears a dress) genre - fluff, bit of smau warnings - none summary - this req

everybody knows that jude is a very social person. however, you are the biggest opposite of him, always avoiding conversations with strangers, anxious in spaces with many people, etc.

the way you guys got together was, interesting.

you got a dm from the jude bellingham. your heart was racing, clicking to open the dm.

“interested in going on a date?”

no way, you thought. jude bellingham just asked you on a date? you were even more nervous while thinking about how to respond. you obviously wanted to say yes, but couldn’t stop thinking about the date. like, what would you say to him, what if it was too awkward. fighting your thoughts, you finally settled on a response.

“yes! when would that be?”

you cringed at the reply, shutting your phone. you took a deep breath and leaned onto your bed. head in your hands, you heard a “ping” from your phone.

you took a deep breath, picking up the phone and opening up instagram. seeing that he responded made you mentally jump in excitement.

“9pm, tonight, at the restaurant you posted about”

you panicked, you didn’t even know what to wear, and it was tonight aswell. quickly you ran to your closet and picked out a beautiful black dress. it was slightly loose around the chest part, and had a slit on the left side.

you checked the time. 8.46pm. shoot, you thought. you were now racing against time, knowing it takes you 30 minutes to the restaurant. somehow you had to arrive in 14 minutes.

“just letting you know that im most likely gonna be late since it takes me some time to get there xx”

you closed you phone and got in your car.

—

you stepped into the restaurant, scanning the people for him. the he was, sitting beside the window. when jude saw you, he smiled and waved at you. you smiled back, already feeling anxious by how many people there were.

“heyy how are you doin’?” jude asked, looking at your dress.

“uhh i’m doing fine, how about you?” you mentally cringed at how awkward you were.

“good, was the food here good?” jude said, trying to lighten up the awkward mood.

“huh? oh yeah, it was” you answered. you were thanking everything when the waiter came. it was horribly awkward, doubting that anything sparked between you and jude.

after your orders, you both went your phones. the food finally came. you ordered your usual, a chicken alfredo pasta, while jude ordered a hamburger along with fries.

“do you mind if i post about the food?” jude questioned, looking at you.

“not at all” you smiled.

—

judebellingham

liked by vinijr, rodrygogoes and 6.562.547 others

judebellingham eating at their favourite

view all 345.628 comments

user1 excuse me? THEIR favourite 🤨

↪️ user2 maybe about his mum or something

vinijr 🫣

↪️ user3 is this a confirmation?

user4 everyone, we lost him 😔😔

user5 watch this be a soft launch

↪️ user6 it definitely is

↪️ user7 stop acting delusional and let him live his life

trentarnold66 😂😂

↪️ judebellingham what

↪️ trentarnold66 i thought you’d never pull

↪️ judebellingham shush

—

but now, you are happier than ever, your relationship blooming. you are still shy though, never too confident to go in public with or without him.

“babe can i post this picture of you?” jude asked you, pointing his phone at you.

“no” you said loud and clear.

“meh, i’ll do it anyways”

💌 judeslove on tumblr.

#🤍 #judeslove #football #football imagine #football x reader #football x y/n #football x you #jude bellingham imagine #fluff #football fluff #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham angst #jude bellingham x you #jude bellingham fanfic #jude bellingham imagines #jude fluff #jude angst #jude imagine #jude bellingham #jude bellingham fluff #jude bellingham smau #football masterlist #football imagines #football angst

[skribblezcorner]

Another zosan post bc they invade my thoughts every waking moment !! also i'm typing on mobile so this might be weirdly formatted

anyways, hc that Sanji is the MOST TOUCHY DRUNK to ever exist and he's all over all of his crewmates all the time. in addition to this, Sanji is also a fucking horrible lightweight. like.... tipsy after two beers lightweight. Sanji also YAPS to whoever's nearest to him about everything and anything that comes to his mind. Zoro is his main victim all of the time and does not appreciate it (yes he does, hes so gay) and its so funny to the rest of the crew b/c he has to peel a rambling sanji off of him while blushing so much he looks like a really tan tomato.

Nami + Usopp appear briefly here b/c i love their friendship so much heart emoji!!! <3333

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Ugh, marimo, get off of me."

Zoro sighs from his position pressed against the edge of a bench, having what is arguably the worst time ever in the corner of some random bar he's been dragged to by the rest of the crew.

"I'm not on you, cook. move your goddamn leg."

"No, you move your leg."

Zoro tries in vain to shuffle away from the lanky limb draped across his lap, narrowly avoiding spilling his beer all across said limb.

The blonde always got touchy when he was drunk, plastering his entire body on the nearest person and talking their ear off for the remainder of the night.

Somehow, it was always Zoro who ended up with a tipsy Sanji draped over him, his breath smelling strongly of cheap liquor as he rambled about god knows what.

Zoro sighs again, resigning himself to his fate as the blond proceeds to hook his heel around one of Zoro's legs and pull himself forward so that he's pressed up against the other man's side. Zoro feels Sanji's elbow poking his arm. He tells himself it's very unpleasant.

"Yknow, you're coming with me to get... uh... groceries tomorrow. Yeah. We need bread."

"You've told me that three times tonight."

"Well, I'm telling you again, you algae head." Sanji lolls his head back to look at the ceiling, using the hand not trapped between them to loosely gesture at the man next to him.

"Nice one," Zoro deadpans.

"Oh, fuck you," Sanji replies, and then rests his head on Zoro's shoulder. "you want hamburgers for lunch tomorrow?" he asks over the loud murmur of the bar.

Zoro, however, does not reply. Instead, he stares straight ahead and tries to focus on the fact that Sanji's chin is digging uncomfortably into his shoulder rather than how his face is inches away.

Sanji doesn't seem to notice, his breath fanning along Zoro's cheek as he prattles on about brioche buns.

Zoro is trying very hard to stay still, internally processing the warmth of the cook's flushed face against his own and sending a silent prayer to whatever deity is out there this will be over soon. He also pointedly does not look at Nami and Usopp snickering over their wine glasses in the corner either.

He's snapped out of his impromptu staring contest with a stain on the wall when he feels Sanji slump almost completely off of the chair, and then suffers a mini heart attack when the blond kicks his legs up on the other side of the bench and straight up puts his head in Zoro's lap.

Zoro stares down at him in surprise and Sanji stares back, both eyes visible with his bangs swept out of his face. They're half-lidded and his face is tinted red from the liquor. Neither of them says anything, for a moment. Sanji's gaze sweeps across Zoro's face, looking for something. He pauses, and Zoro has to clamp his mouth shut because every time he sees Sanji like this he suddenly gains the inexplicable urge to say I've been in love with you for three years, please make out with me, which would be very bad.

The cook's eyebrows furrow, and he parts his pretty, pink lips before mumbling softly;

"...Did you get a haircut?"

Zoro throws his head back and groans. "That's it, we're going back to the ship."

He can hear Nami and Usopp's shrieking laughter clearly, even over Sanji's slurred protests as Zoro chugs the rest of his beer, hoists the fucking idiot up on his back, and marches out of the bar.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Zoro did, in fact, get a haircut. Sanji should know b/c hes the one who did it lmao. Also, it takes Zoro an hour to walk the 15 minutes back to the ship, and Sanji talks about bread the entire time.

Am i making Zoro whipped for Sanji because i am whipped for Sanji? Interesting question, indeed. Will i ever stop? No.

Ty to my loyal 5 followers i gained yesterday!!! shoutout to yall.

Also i would REALLY appreciate comments about how i can improve my writing style so if you have any feedback please comment !!!!!

okay bye :p

#one piece #platonic usonami forever #cat burglar nami #usopp #zosan #zosan brainrot #roronoa zoro #vinsmoke sanji #theyre so gay #maybe one day i'll make them kiss #today is not that day

[depravitycentral]

Partnership

Yandere! Uvogin x fem! reader

Tw: kidnapping, stalking, theft, threats of violence, implied non-con, if your name is Stacy pretend it isn't, Stockholm Syndrome, brief mention of vomiting, Nobunaga is featured a bit in this but don't worry he doesn't want you, fem reader, MDNI

This is dedicated to @ramwrites, who is amazing and wonderful and offered to write me a welcome back gift, and I couldn't not give something back in return! Thanks for letting me write this for you; your writing is so good and makes me all giggly and inspired. For those interested, please check out her Shalnark piece - I haven't read it yet, but I'm sure it's just as good as everything else Ram produces.

WC: 10K

I do not condone any of the actions described in this post - this is fiction and should be treated as such. If you or a loved one is in a similar situation to anything contained in this post or my blog in general, please seek help. You're in charge of your internet consumption; please make responsible choices. With that, enjoy! 

“So you went and got yourself kidnapped, huh?” Uvogin asks, cocking a brow at you.

               You, who’s tied to a metal chair, gagged and blindfolded, very clearly having no fucking clue what is going on.

               You squirm, sitting up straight at the sound of a new, unfamiliar voice. Your cute little sleeping shorts had ridden up a bit, exposing more of your thigh than you were probably comfortable with, and Uvo notices with a distant sense of enjoyment that the thin nightshirt you’re sporting is doing very little to hide the way the cold air is affecting your chest.

               You’re weak, really; a pathetic little thing that has him scoffing and crossing his arms.

               “Listen up, I’m only gonna tell you this once. A friend of yours – Stacy, was it? Anyway, this friend of yours got herself noticed by the wrong type of guy.” He starts, plopping down and sitting in his own identical metal chair, just without the restraints.

               You stop struggling when he mentions her name, and he takes this as a sign to continue.

               “See, Nobuanga’s not a bad guy. He’s a little rough around the edges, sure, but any guy who isn’t is hardly worth knowing.” He chuckles at his own assessment of his closest friend, though you don’t seem to share the sentiment. “Stacy works at that shitty little restaurant he loves – the one with the sticky, greasy booths and the fries that come drenched with salt and are so limp they literally drip oil.”

               He shivers at the mere memory, the hamburger he’d ordered barely worth eating.

               “Don’t know what she did, exactly, but somehow he’s smitten – she’s got him all fucked up, ranting and raving about how beautiful she is and how she smiles at him all the time and flirts with him on the clock. Real annoying, if you ask me.” He sighs heavily, letting his thumb sit at his chin as he loses himself in the story of his best friend falling in love – with your best friend, no less.

               “And then she quit her job, I’m sure you know. Started working up at that movie theater – more shitty, oily food, just popcorn instead of fries this time.” He laughs again. “Nobunaga went crazy over that, you know, thinking that maybe she wanted to work in a more intimate setting like that so that he could sneak her off into some abandoned theater and get some one-on-one quality time, if you know what I mean.”

               You grimace, at both the implications of his last statement and the mention of Stacy quitting. You know exactly why she’d quit – it was the whole reason you’d been staying at her place, really. She was convinced she had a stalker, that there was this crazy man who used to bother her at the diner and follow her home. It’d scared her, obviously, and she’d requested – with a guilty look and fiddling thumbs – if you’d be willing to spend the next few nights are her place with her, because maybe if there was more than one person home he wouldn’t get gutsy and break in. Of course you’d agreed, believing her fully and not wanting to leave her alone to deal with this crazed freak.

               Although now, you’re starting to regret that decision just a bit.

               “As I’m sure you know, it didn’t change much. Pretty stupid, to be honest – if a stalker’s that dedicated, how the hell is a change of occupation going to change anything? Chick’s pretty dumb, if you ask me.” He shrugs, and although you can’t see it through your blindfold, you’re sure his face is awfully apathetic about the whole situation. “She was ignoring him, refusing to serve him at the theater, reporting him to her manager, even calling the police and getting a description of him circulating. She was going to get a restraining order against him, even – again, like that’d do shit.”

               He snorts, and you bite into the gag harder.

               Sighing, he looks up at the ceiling. “See, that’s the thing about Nobunaga. He might seem a little lazy sometimes, but he’s got a heart of gold when it comes to the ones he cares about. He’d do anything for that woman – steal for her, kill for her, anything at all. He’s a sap, totally obsessed with the chick, but it’s kind of sweet in a way, I guess. Means he really cares about her. Isn’t that funny? Her stalker really is in love with her.”

               You don’t find it particularly funny, but you can’t say much.

               “Anyways, the police finally got a sighting of him last night. Went through the system pretty fast – I’m a little impressed, to be honest. Normally takes those bastards much longer to process things. Regardless, a few too many sirens were going last night, even a few cars parked outside the apartment he’s been squatting in, yelling his name in those big, gaudy megaphones of theirs. Caused a real stir, and sent the guy into a panic.”

               He takes a moment to breath, tapping his foot lightly on the ground. “So what does he do? He calls me, in the middle of the night, talking so fast that I can’t even understand the guy. All I’m hearing is Stacy this, Stacy that, police and blah blah blah recognized. I had to force the words out of him before it made any sense, the idiot.” That same laugh rattles in your ears.

               “Eventually I got him to be coherent, and he told me that he had to ‘make his move’, whatever the hell that meant. Said he couldn’t wait anymore, that he had to take Stacy and run – the police were coming, and even though it’s not hard to take out a couple of poorly trained guys, it’s still a pain in the ass and Shizuku’s not here to clean up his mess.

               “Anyways, he starts begging me – literally, actually pleading with me, imagine that – to come and help him out. He told me there’s this other chick at her place – some girl she’s been keeping around for some unknown reason, and he needs someone to take care of the body.” Your blood goes cold, fear suddenly creeping back up your throat.

               Was he going to kill you? Why was he bothering to tell you all this if he was just planning on slicing open your neck? Did he find some sick pleasure in prolonging your death?

               He notices your discomfort, it seems, because soon he’s rolling his eyes, scoffing at you. “Calm down. You’re such a bad actor – can’t even see your face, really, and I know you’re scared shitless now. I’m not going to kill you, don’t get your panties in a twist.”

               You calm slightly, but not much.

               “As I was saying, there’s this girl he needs me to take care of – a quick death, nothing too flashy, which makes me immediately ask why the hell he’d request me of all people, when every time I kill it’s messy. It’s kind of my trademark, you know?”

               You didn’t, and you hoped it’d stay that way.

               He sighs again. “Anyways, I head on over to Stacy’s apartment, meeting Nobunaga outside and listening to him run down the plan. He’s going to run inside and knock her out, pulling her out of bed and running off to God knows where he’s got all set up for the two of them. And while he’s busy doing that, I’m supposed to head in and eliminate the friend. Seemed easy enough, if not a bit tedious, so I agree and we head inside, keeping mind of the sirens still in the distance.

               “Everything’s going smoothly, except once we get the front door open, it becomes very clear that Nobunaga was stupid and panicked and didn’t bother to doublecheck if Stacy was actually asleep.” He pauses to sigh dramatically, like it’s some big annoyance. “She’s fully awake, standing about ten feet away from the door, and then she starts fucking screaming.”

               You remember that bit – the screaming, that is, because it had woken you up from your slumber on Stacy’s couch. Everything is still blurry after that, disorientation fogging your brain from being so abruptly woken up.

               “She’s yelling and screeching, and if Nobunaga hadn’t been there I probably would’ve killed her myself just to get her to shut the fuck up. She’s got one of those high, shrill, shrieky voices, you know? The kind that really drive me up the wall - it’s damn annoying.” He pauses, looking at you skeptically. “Hope you haven’t got one of those, things’ll get messy real quick if you do.”

               You hope you don’t, either.

               “He rushes forward and tries to grab her, but she swats at him and, get this, manages to punch him in the dick.” He laughs aloud at that, slapping his knee and throwing his head back. “This weak-ass girl manages to get him on the ground flat, stupid ass’s hands clutching at his dick, and what does she do in the meantime? She runs over to the couch, grabbing this girl and staring back at me like I’m some monster.”

               You make a noise through the gag, but Uvogin ignores it.

               “I’ve gotta hand it to Stacy, though, she’s got guts. She starts yellin’ at us about how she won’t let us kill the girl, how she’ll kill herself before she lets us get our hands on her, and immediately Nobunaga crumbles. I don’t know why the idiot didn’t think of the possibility earlier, but he totally freezes up when she threatens that, just gaping like a fish. It was pretty awkward for me, to be honest, because watching him get so thoroughly rejected was giving me serious second hand embarrassment. I mean, the chick literally said she’d rather kill herself than let Nobuanga take her – pretty harsh if you ask me.”

               He looks back at your covered face, letting his gaze linger on the edges of the blindfold. “So he panics and gives into her demand, telling her he won’t kill her friend – says that he’ll just take her too, so that way everyone’s happy.”

               He frowns a bit at you, scratching the back of his neck. “Well, everyone except you, probably. And except Stacy, too, probably. And except me. So really, Nobunaga’s the only happy one.”

               Your face would sour if it was able to.

               “Anyways, it wasn’t hard to knock them both out and bring ‘em to their respective holding places. I’ve got no clue where the hell Nobunaga’s keeping his chick, but I’m sure you’ve figured out that you’re Stacy’s little friend.”

               You nod, slowly, the movement limited by your restraints. Your wrists have gone numb and your ankles feel bruised and sore, the ropes keeping them pinned the legs of the chair making blood flow difficult.

               “So, what to do with you now.” His voice is wistful, like he’s actually contemplating, and that same familiar fear washes over you again.

               He groans, the chair skidding out behind him as he stands to his full height. “Would you quit it with the fear? I already told you I’m not killing you, are you even listening to me?”

               You nod again, faster this time.

               Uvogin sighs, shuffling forward towards you. You can hear him approaching, and although your shoulders stiffen up, you try not to look as terrified as you feel. It doesn’t seem to work all that well, but he spares you another comment about it.

               Soon the blindfold is ripped off your head, leaving your hair messy and out of place, your eyes squinting and blinking rapidly to adjust to the rather bright white light hanging over you and what you can now see is an absolute behemoth of a man.

               He’s fucking huge – towering over you in every sense of the word, muscles practically bulging out of his body with how defined and massive they are. Black hairs cover every inch of his body you can see, even his arms and especially the bits of chest peeking out of his white top. Ragged, unruly hair sweeps down to his shoulders, making the muscles of his neck look even firmer, and you gulp. Any chance of escaping has basically left you now – there’s no way in hell you could ever beat that, especially if he’d already managed to kidnap you once.

               He clears his throat and your gaze is brought up to his face, a small, strange wave of embarrassment flooding through you as you realize you’ve been caught staring. He’s smirking, though, and you take in the sharp line of his jaw, the thick, dark eyebrows that frame equally dark eyes. He’s attractive, in a strange, rugged sort of way, and you immediately feel sick at the thought.

               “You like what you’re seein’?” He teases, and you immediately look away, still unable to reply with the gag covering your mouth.

               He laughs, and sets his hands on his lips. “Well, looks like you’re stuck with me. Before you freak out, I can’t kill you because that damn Stacy really seems to care about you, and she’s told Nobunaga she’ll kill herself if she doesn’t get regular proof that you’re still alive.”

               A flame of hope ignites in your chest, and internally you thank Stacy, even if this whole situation is less than ideal.

               He seems to sense your sudden upturn in mood, chuckling with a condescending lilt. “Oh no, princess, that doesn’t mean I’m letting you go. No, you’ve gotta stay put, because now that you know what I look like, you’ll go to the cops and report me as fast as those little legs of yours can manage.”

               You shake your head at that, eyes glistening with tears as he shuts down your last hope of escaping. Please, you internally beg him, hoping he’ll somehow be able to sense this too. I won’t, I promise!

               His gaze narrows at you, before that same smirk is back. “I’m sure if you could talk you’d be telling me how you’ll never tell a soul, but you and I both know that’s bullshit. So I’ll save us both some time and keep you here, so that I don’t have to track you down again and lock you back up once you’ve just gotten free.”

               You visibly deflate, and if Uvogin had been a kinder man, he would’ve almost felt bad for you. But instead, he just hums, crouching down in front of you. Even squatting he’s still taller than you, and it does nothing to make you feel less scared.

               “Now listen up, here are the rules. I’m a pretty nice guy, all things considered, so don’t break my rules and I won’t break your bones.”

               Your eyes get wide, but you nod along. He smiles, patting your knee.

               “That’s good, see? You’re already doing better than that Stacy girl, at least you’re not fighting me every step of the way.” Something about his statement makes guilt eat away at your chest – are you supposed to be fighting more? There doesn’t really seem to be a point – this man is massive, and you’re all bound and unable to move. You’re doing the best you can, right?

               “First,” He holds up a finger, “don’t even bother trying to escape. I’m bigger than you, faster than you, stronger than you, and smarter than you. There’s nothing you can try that I won’t see through, and you’ll end up regretting it more than you can imagine.

               “Second, no trying to hurt yourself. Nobunaga will kill me if I let you die, and it’d be a pain to deal with him.” He fixes you a stern look, and you nod.

               “Third, don’t go digging through my shit. I’m doing my buddy a favor by keeping you here, and if I find you snooping around… He didn’t say anything about roughing you up a bit, and it might be good for Stacy to see you with some bruises or a cast or two.” His threat doesn’t go unheard, and you nod again, throat bobbing as you swallow.

               He stares at you for a moment more, gaze calculating and judging whether you’ve really accepted his conditions, before strong fingers come up to untie the knot keeping your gag in place.

               “Don’t you scream, I’ll have to shut you up if you do.” He warns, before pulling the fabric away. Immediately you’re flexing your jaw, the muscle aching as you move it, and he watches with a neutral expression. You’re still tied up, unable to move really, and Uvogin gets a fleeting thought of how pitiful you look.

               “Um,” You start, your voice a bit hoarse from being so dry and unused for the last few hours. “What’s your name?”

               He blinks, before laughing a bit. “Of all the questions you could’ve asked, all the things you could’ve said and done as soon as you woke up from learning you’ve been kidnapped, and that’s what you chose? Shit, you wouldn’t survive in the wild, would you?”

               Shame creeps up your neck at his belittlement, but before you can defend yourself he’s answering. “It’s Uvogin.”

               You nod, not willing to look at him. It’s silent for a few moments, before he sighs again and reaches forward to untie the rope shackling your ankles and wrists. As soon as you’re free, you try to stretch out your limbs, keeping a weary eye on the man – Uvogin.

               What a stupid name.

               “Well, the fact that you’re not screaming your head off is a promising sign. Get up, I’ll show you where you’ll be sleeping.” He orders, already taking off towards the door in the corner of the small room. You try to follow him, but your legs aren’t moving right, and it takes you a while to make your way over there. He looks irritated at your lack of speed, but says nothing, only holding open the door until you make your way through.

               You’re led down into a rather sparse apartment, only furnished with a single gray couch against one wall (with a few stains on it that make you wince a bit), a TV and some cabinets, a wooden table and two chairs, and a beat-up fridge in the adjoining kitchen. Everything’s clean, but the space lacks any sort of personality, and it makes you uncomfortable.

               “That’s your bed, extra blankets are in the closet. If you need anything tell me, and I might snag it for you next time I’m out on a job.” Something about the way he says ‘snag’ makes you nervous, so you just mutter a small affirmation.

               He gives you one last glance over, his eyes once again lingering on your chest, before stepping through the doorway.

               “Wait, Uvogin!” Your voice, a bit wobbly and unsure, makes him turn back, his brow cocked and curiosity dancing on his features. (And a bit of surprise, too, because he hadn’t expected you to say anything to him, or even use his name. Maybe you weren’t as skittish and weak as you seemed – though, he doubted that.)

               “Um, is it possible for me to see Stacy soon?” You asked, voice growing smaller with every word. He blinks, before standing up a bit straighter.

               “Actually, you’re in luck. Nobunaga called me about an hour ago and let me know we’re meeting up in a few days – he said it would be good for Stacy to have a ‘playdate’ with you. Whatever the fuck that means.” Uvogin shrugs, looking entirely uninterested, and you bristle at Nobunaga’s choice of words. Poor Stacy.

               Excitement brews in your chest; at least you’ll have a familiar face, and hopefully the stranger hasn’t done anything too terrible to your friend. Nodding, you glance back to the floor, wishing the hulking man staring at you would just leave. He does, a few moments later, and only then do you allow yourself to slump onto the bed he’s assigned you. The bedroom is bare like the rest of the home, with a twin bed set in the corner and a small set of drawers sitting nearby. It makes you laugh humorlessly – were you supposed to fill that chest? With what? You hadn’t brought anything with you, and you seriously doubted Uvogin would let you return home to grab some of your clothes.

               Sighing, you sat onto the bed, the mattress firm under you. Distantly, some part of you was pleased – at least the bed would be comfortable enough.

               Time passes slowly as you sit on the bed – not your bed, not yet. You stare at the wall ahead of you, the fear slowly seeping out of your system until only exhaustion remains. Sleep eventually takes over, and although you try to fight it, you’re slipping into a dreamless slumber before long.

               Uvogin’s tolerable, you’ve found. He’s certainly not nice, nor is he an especially great person to be around, but he could be much worse, you suppose. He’s fed you twice daily for however long you’ve been stuck here (it feels like a week, so you’re assuming it is, if only to stave off any self-doubt that’s creeping into the corners of your mind), and the food’s not terrible. It’s clearly takeout, the packaging sometimes even having Chinese characters on it or restaurant logos, and you’ve been mostly satisfied with his choices so far. He’ll sometimes ask you what you want, and while you were too scared to answer the first few times (which only makes him scowl and roll his eyes, muttering a small damn, Nobunaga owes me one), eventually you’d felt safe enough to be honest.

               He hasn’t hurt you, either. At least, not yet. You’re aware he could, if he wanted to – those muscles make it hard to forget, and you’d seen him crush his phone in his hand like a bug when a phone call with someone named Franklinwent poorly.

               He’s scary, still, but you’ve reached the point now where you aren’t practically hyperventilating every time he enters the room. You still keep him in your field of vision, weary for any sudden changes in his behavior, but every day that passes has you growing more complacent with your position. The constant threat of Stacy potentially facing consequences for your actions doesn’t deter you from being on your best behavior, either.

               Besides, sometimes he’s even a little bit funny – not that you’d ever laugh at his jokes, but he has this weird sense of humor that you think you’d like, if the situation had been different. If you’d met him on the street you definitely would’ve tried to cross to the other side, but you would’ve found him oddly charming, his snide remarks and cocky air a bit entertaining.

               You try not to think about that, though, because the mere presence of these thoughts means the Stockholm Syndrome is starting to kick in. And while you aren’t the most resilient person on the planet, even you have to admit it’s a bit early for that.

               Sighing, you take another bite of the curry he’d brought you, pleasantly surprised that the spice level was perfect. Uvogin didn’t have many rules, it was true, but he did have a few unspoken ones – one of which being that meals, particularly take-out meals, were to be eaten at the small, rickety table. Together, which wasn’t ideal.

               “I’ve gotta make sure you don’t try to starve yourself or choke.” He’d told you the first time, grabbing your shoulders and forcing you into the seat across from his, the noodles sitting in front of you still packaged neatly in their container. At first you’d been nervous he would try to poison you, but eventually hunger got the best of you and you were slurping the noodles down, still keeping a nervous eye on the hulking man in front of you.

               “So, big news.” He starts, taking a bite out of his chicken. He always took big bites, you’d noticed, but he ordered enough food that even if his pace was twice as fast as yours, he never finished before you.

               You glance up at him, trying not to let toomuch curiosity show on your face, but he seems to realize anyway.

               “I know you haven’t been up to much, but don’t make your excitement so obvious. Hurts my feelings to know you think I’m so boring.” He’s joking, you think, and to sate him you attempt to smile.

               “Nobunaga called me again this morning; today’s the day.”

               You practically choke on your food, eyes blowing wide and your hands beginning to shake. Finally, finally you’d be able to see Stacy – you’d been worried sick about her the last week or so, terrified that her transition to the life of being a captive hadn’t gone as smoothly as your own. (You snorted bitterly at that – smooth probably wasn’t the best word for how you’d been feeling, but at least you hadn’t been hit yet, or assaulted or any number of things. Hopefully Nobunaga wasn’t any worse of a person than your own captor.)

               Uvogin is watching you, you realize, with a strange look in his eye. As soon as you glance up at him you look away again, clearing your throat and trying to keep your voice even as you ask, “That’s good, it’ll be nice to see her again.”

               It’s silent for a moment, before his booming laugh makes you wince a bit. “Yeah, I’m sure you are. Finish up, I don’t like wasting food. Once you’re done we’ll head out - try to not to choke.”

               He says that right as you start shoveling the food into your mouth, hoping that eating quicker will mean you can see Stacy quicker. He chuckles at you, but you follow his orders and slow down a bit. He throws you one more glance, that cocky smile on his lips, before digging into his own food again.

               He’s eating a bit faster than normal, too, you notice.

               He apologizes with an insincere tone as he ties the blindfold back on you (he’d told you that you can’t know where you are just in case you decide to get rebellious and run away), and soon you’re stuffed into a car. Everything’s hard to keep track of when you can’t see, but Uvogin’s talking (like normal), so you try to tune into the sound of his voice to help the time pass.

               “Now listen, you might not wanna touch her too much, Nobunaga’s a bit…” He trails off, and you can hear his hand tightening on the steering wheel. “Possessive. You’re her friend and all, and I’m sure he won’t hurt you, especially not in front of her, but be careful.”

               You nod, absentmindedly.

               “Also, don’t be too surprised if she doesn’t look the way she used to. He was always going on about how she was dressed too inappropriately in her day-to-day life, so she might be a little underdressed.”

               He’d hesitated to say underdressed, and you tried not to think about what that could mean.

               It’s quiet for a few moments, and you shift in the car seat. He’d let you sit in the front, an unexpected luxury, but you didn’t like that he could see you while you couldn’t see him. He wouldn’t hurt you, you were mostly confident of that now, but who knew what he had planned.

               “We’re almost there. If things go badly, I’ll get you out of there. You’re pretty damn weak, a broken bone would probably take a few weeks for you to heal. I don’t want to deal with you being injured, and I’m sure you don’t, either.”

               Your lips must’ve given away your fear, because a moment later he’s sighing. “Did you know that you practically reek your emotions? I feel like I can smell ‘em, even when I can’t even see half your damn face.”

               You don’t have anything to say to that, but you force yourself to speak anyway, not wanting to dignify his last comment. “Do you think – well, do you think Nobunaga will want to hurt me?”

               Uvogin ponders your question for a moment, surprised that you’d spoken up. You hadn’t done much talking in the time he’d had you – he was sure it was because you were scared, but it was nice to hear you talking to him like you weren’t scared shitless of him. Even if you had every reason to be so terrified.

               “Honestly, probably. Especially if you touch her.”

               You suck in a breath, and Uvogin hums. “But it’s not going to happen.”

               “What do you mean?”

               You could practically hear his toothy grin.

               “It’s my job to protect you, right? So I will. Even if the one you need protecting from is the same guy who wants you to be protected.”

               Something in his tone gives you the impression he means those words more than he’s letting on, and you shiver as you imagine just who this Nobunaga guy could possibly be.

               “Oh my god, oh my god – you’re alive! Thank god!” Stacy sobs, arms wrapping around you like a vice before you can even respond. You clutch her back just as tightly, burying your face into her brown curls, a few tears pricking at your eyes. You’d been nervous that Nobunaga would’ve hurt her, with the way Uvogin was describing him, but after a thorough look-over, you find no bruises or marks marring her olive skin.

               Eventually she pulls back, but keeps her hands firmly grasping your shoulders. Her eyes are red with tears, and her lower lip is wobbling. She’s not hurt, but she looks bad – there’s heavy bags under eyes and her hair is frazzled, her lips look swollen and she’s clutching onto you hard. Really hard.

               “Stacy, are you hurt?” You ask, letting your hands cup her cheeks. You see Nobunaga – who Uvogin had pointed out with a small that’s the guy when you’d walked in – stiffen up at that, and Uvogin’s warning flashes through your mind. You might not want to touch her. Right.

               Stacy glances over at her captor, and you follow her gaze, only to see Uvogin give you a small nod and drag his friend out the door by the collar of his purple kimono, calling over his shoulder that they’ll be back in exactly five minutes, and that they’ll know if you try to escape.

               As soon as the door closes, Stacy pulls you in for another hug, the words flying out of her mouth so quickly you can barely understand her. “He’s – Nobunaga, he’s horrible. He never leaves me alone, and he treats me like I’m some incompetent little baby, and he’s always touching me and I just – I can’t –“

               You cut her off by pressing her face into your neck again, rubbing the back of her head and letting her cry. You’re crying too, now, but your tears fall silently compared to her sobbing.

               You don’t say much, because what can you say? It would be a lie to tell her that everything’s going to be okay, and every other reassurance that dances on the tip of your tongue just feels wrong, like you’d be pointedly lying to her. Instead, you let her get it out, her grip on you never loosening. You’d known Nobunaga had been the root of all her anxieties the last few months, long before he’d gotten the gall to kidnap her. And while you were happy that she wasn’t hurt, it still pained you to see her like this.

               Eventually she’d calmed down, and you feel her pull back and wipe at her sniffling nose. “I’m so sorry.” She whispers to you, looking like she’s on the verge of crying again. “I didn’t mean to drag you into this mess, I should’ve just gone quietly and left you alone. I shouldn’t have asked you to stay with me for a few weeks, now you’re really stuck with that monster.”

               You don’t tell her that it’s okay, because it’s not. Some part of you is still bitter and resentful towards her for involving you, because she’s right. You could be still living your life if she hadn’t requested you to help deter her stalker from making a move. But despite your anger, you can’t find it in yourself to hate her. Not when she’s like this – not when she’s probably experiencing something even worse than you.

               “It doesn’t matter now, all that matters is that we’re both alive, and we’re both okay. Or, at least, okay as we can be, given the situation.” You tell her, smiling softly. She blinks at you, eyes wide and vulnerable, before nodding and swallowing.

               “Yeah, I was worried that you wouldn’t be, with the way Nobunaga was talking about Uvogin.” Her voice was hoarse still, and you laughed humorlessly at that.

               “Yeah, well, he hasn’t hurt me yet, so I think I’ll be okay. He mostly just ignores me, honestly, so I guess I’m lucky.” Your attempt at optimism doesn’t make Stacy smile like you’d hoped. Rather, her lips pull into a frown and her eyebrows furrow.

               “He ignores you? That doesn’t make sense.”

               You expression mirrors hers. “What? I mean, the only reason I got kidnapped too was insurance so that you wouldn’t kill yourself –“

               Stacy’s face morphs into one of horror, and her grip on your shoulders goes slack.

               Quickly you’re backpedaling, worried the mention of her self-imposed death might’ve triggered something you wanted to avoid. “I’m not saying it’s your fault, I totally understand why you –“

               “Alright, time’s up.” Nobunaga’s voice interrupts, and knuckly hands are suddenly on your shoulders, pushing you aside so that Nobunaga can stand in front of Stacy. You stumble back, falling backwards against Uvogin’s hard chest, immediately standing up straight.

               Nobunaga’s cupping Stacy’s chin, and you can see from this angle the way he smiles, a slight pink color flooding his cheeks. It makes you sick, and the pained look on Stacy’s face only makes your gut sink more. She’s looking at you still, and something about the way her brows are cocked inward that makes you feel like she’s almost pitying you.  

               “Did you miss me, baby?” Nobunaga’s cooing down at her, and it makes your skin crawl. Uvogin sighs from behind you and grabs your wrist, dragging you out of the room. His grip is surprisingly gentle, and as you watch Stacy slowly fade from your view, you can’t help but be slightly grateful that at least your captor isn’t leaning down for a kiss like hers.

               The car ride home is mostly quiet, and it’s not until you’re nearing the end of your time in the vehicle that Uvogin breaks the silence.

               “So, what did you talk about while we were gone? Girly shit?” You think he’s attempting a joke, but you can’t even pretend to laugh at it.

               “She’s not happy.” You comment, voice slightly flat, and Uvogin snorts at your words.

               “Of course she’s not happy, she’s just been kidnapped. And by her stalker, no less – would anyone be happy? Hell, are you happy?” He asks you, and you blanch at his question. Somehow, though, it feels like some sort of trap, so you stay quiet.

               He doesn’t say anything more until he’s pulling you out of the car, your footsteps hesitant and clumsy because he’d put that damn blindfold on you again. He guides you up to the apartment, and soon you’re standing in the living room area, the fabric falling from your eyes.

               “I’ve got some errands to run today, so I’ll be gone for a while. Do you want anything while I’m out?” He asks, standing in front of the door with his arms crossed. You’re a bit touched that he’s offering to get you something, but you try not to focus on it. Of course you’re feeling grateful for him – he may be holding you captive, yes, but at least he hasn’t tried to kiss you or touch you. Poor Stacy didn’t share your luck.

               “Um, maybe some chips? I don’t care what flavor, just something crunchy…” You trail off, looking at him nervously. You’d never requested anything before, and some part of you is convinced he’d only asked you the question to laugh in your face and deny you.

               He cracks a smile and nods, hand already on the doorknob. “Okay. Okay, but you’d better be prepared to share, because I happen to be a big chip fan myself. So don’t get greedy, yeah?”

               You half-smile, rubbing at your arm. “Yeah, I won’t be.”

               He steps out the door, and once again the apartment is silent, his presence gone and all movement within the room gone, too.

               The TV won’t work for you, you know that, but you’re still trying to get it to behave. Uvogin had to type in some password every time he turned it on, and it was too long and encoded for you to ever be able to decipher it. Still, you were clicking the power button of the remote over and over, hoping against hope that it would somehow short circuit and bypass that password screen. When it didn’t, you only sighed, rising to your feet and wandering towards the monitor.

               Uvogin, you’d learned, was surprisingly meticulous – surprisingly organized, really. Meaning there was a chance he’d written down the password to the TV and had it stored somewhere. He’d only been gone for about a half hour, if the clock was any indication, and you had a lot of time to kill before he returned home. Not that he was your only source of entertainment – though, you’d read the single book he owned three times already.

               Your knees crack as you kneel down in front of the cupboard the TV was sitting on, the wooden doors creaking as they open. The shelves are mostly empty – a few older remotes, and a cable channel guide.

               Frustrated, you huff and let your shoulders slump, trying to decide what to do next. The TV obviously wasn’t planning on cooperating, though there was a cupboard right next to the one you’re searching through that could potentially hold the answer.

               Uvogin’s rules distantly float through your mind, his gruff voice replaying in perfect clarity. Third, don’t go digging through my shit. Glancing back up the clock, you bite your lip. You had time, because while he was massive and huge and scary, there was no way he could get all his errands done in just thirty minutes.

               With a deep breath, you move over to the other cabinet, letting your fingers curl around the knob. The doors don’t creak when they open, and immediately you’re scanning the shelves. These ones are full – with boxes, each labeled with a date on them. Cocking a brow, you examine the dates. January 4th – January 25th, April 29th – May 7th, and so on.

               Intrigued, you slowly slide out one of the boxes, noticing not a single bit of dust is sitting on the cover. He must use this cabinet much more often than the one you’d been searching through previously, as a thick layer of dust had sprung up in your face the moment you opened the cabinet door.

               The box itself is light, but you still set it down in front of you, your fingers delicate and careful, too worried that you’ll break something if you press too hard. And then Uvogin would know, surely, especially if he truly used this cabinet that often.

               Slowly, you take off the box’s cover, and immediately your brows are scrunching together. What the hell?

               When you’d imagined the kind of ‘shit’ Uvogin didn’t want you to snoop through, you hadn’t pegged it to be this. Whatever this was, that is.

               It looked like a box full of receipts – tons of pieces of paper, all in weird sizes or shapes that looked like they were ripped out of some sort of notebook. The handwriting is messy, the letters all crammed together and difficult to decipher. You pick the paper on top up, turning it this way and that, trying to read the text.

               Her: Sorry, I know it’s late, but I need to ask you a quick question.

               Them: Yeah? What’s up?

               Her: Do you think he’s alright? Chris, I mean – he hasn’t called me back for a few days, and I’m worried about him.

               Them: You know Chris, it always takes him a while to respond. I wouldn’t worry, he’s just unpredictable.

               Her: Yeah, I guess…

               [6 second pause]

               Them: Go to sleep, it’s late. You’ve got work in the morning, right?

               Her: Yeah, I do. Okay, okay, I’m getting into bed now. Goodnight.

               Them: Goodnight, call me when you hear back from him.

               Her: Okay.

               What was this? The ambiguity of it all confused you – who was her? Them? Chris?

               You furrowed your brows, confusion sitting in your gut alongside a strange feeling. The hairs at the back of your neck prickled up, and a small pang of unease bolted through you.

               Setting the piece of paper back into the bin, you picked up another one. This one was shorter, more to the point.

               Her: Are we still on for Friday night?

               Them: Yeah! Freddy’s, nine o’clock sharp. I’m buying, remember.

               Her: You always say that, and you always get too shit faced to pay. Liar!

               Them: Hey, I just know how to have fun! You could learn how to do that, you know.

               Her: Yeah yeah, okay, I’ll see you later.

               Your fingers are shaking as you finish reading the small, triangular slip of paper. Your lips are slightly parted, brows still crunched together. Something about the interaction between Her and Them felt oddly familiar – like something you’d heard before.

               And the mention of Freddy’s. That’d been the name of a bar you frequented often with your friends, back before everything had gone to shit with Stacy.

               Unnerved, you set the piece of paper back in the box and slide the box into its place on the shelf, running your eyes back over the listed date. August 28th – September 16th. One of your best friend’s birthdays was in that range.

               Wiping your palms on your thighs, you try to calm the pounding of your heart. Something feels off, wrong in a way you can’t quite place. Surely, Freddy’s is a common enough name; it doesn’t necessarily mean your favorite bar. Plus, even if it does mean that particular bar, who knew who these people were. You surely don’t - who the hell is Chris?

               Wanting to put some distance between you and the cabinet, you get to your feet again and close it, wandering away into the little hallway connecting the living space, bathroom and two bedrooms. Cupping some water in your hands from the bathroom sink, you splash your face, letting the cold wash over your skin. Closing your eyes, you try to calm down. It doesn’t mean anything – how could it? You’re probably just all shaken up after seeing Stacy and her freaky captor. Nobunaga disturbed you, you can’t deny it.

               Sighing, you open your eyes, wiping your face with your towel. (Uvogin had been kind enough to give you one designated as your own, saving you from the horrible fate of having you dry your body with a towel that he’d already used.) Though you notice with a small start that the towel is wet, despite you not having showered recently. Odd.

               As you turn to leave the room, you notice a shirt sitting piled up in the corner. It was black, and surely not your own – holding it up, it looked big enough to dwarf you. Must be Uvogin’s, then.

               His bedroom is across from your own, and while you haven’t been inside it yet, it feels wrong to just leave his shirt on the floor, where it could get dirty and maybe even moldy. Besides, doing a little cleaning would keep you occupied – both from boredom, and from contemplating those weird slips of paper further.

               You slowly open the door, immediately getting hit with a wave of musk. Uvogin normally smelled decent, but the scent in here is strong enough to make you wince a bit, the overwhelming stench of sweat, mint, and male making you a bit nauseous. To your surprise, the room is spotless – a very, very large bed sits floated in the middle, a navy and black flannel comforter covering the top while a few large, puffy pillows sit at attention at the head. A few pairs of boots are lined up in the corner, and a single picture looks to be taped up on the wall above them. Curiously, you step forward, moving towards the photo.

               Uvogin had told you very little about himself – only that he worked as a contractor, of sorts, and that he didn’t have too many friends, so you wouldn’t have to worry about visitors. But now that you’re looking at the photo, you’re wondering if maybe that last statement hadn’t been so true – the photo is of a dozen or so people, all posing for the camera with various degrees of a smile on their face. Uvogin’s in the back, on the left side, his arm wrapped around the shoulders of a shorter blond man, his blue eyes in a wink and holding up his thumb. Uvogin’s smiling, and as you scan the photo, you stop when you hit Nobunaga, who’s seated in the front row next to a woman with big glasses and a modified cross necklace. Everyone looks happy, and briefly you wonder whether Uvogin considers these people friends. He must, if Nobunaga’s present – an odd sort of satisfaction worms its way into your chest at the thought. You don’t like Uvogin, surely not – but still, everyone needs friends, right? Even kidnappers.

               God, you really are starting to develop Stockholm Syndrome.

               Shaking your head to try and clear the thoughts, you approach his closet and snag a hanger, trying to hang up the shirt you’re holding in your arms. The thing is tall, and as you try to get the hanger’s hook to wrap over the metal bar, your eyes fall to the side, noticing something out of the corner of your vision.

               It’s a soft pink, and you cock a brow. Uvogin? Owning something pink?

               Eventually, and with a soft grunt, you get the hanger to successfully sit onto the bar, and immediately you’re investigating the pink thing. This goes directly against his rules, you know – you’re quite literally snooping, but hopefully he’d still be out for longer. Besides, even if he comes back, you could just tell him you’re putting away his shirt, and maybe he wouldn’t call you on your half-lie.

               Whatever the thing is, it’s wedged pretty far back in the closet – you’d only managed to catch a brief glimpse of it, and for good reason. There’s a storage container in the back of the closet, an organizer of sorts with some compartments that all seem to be stuffed full. It’s hard to see, the overhead light dim to begin with and not penetrating too deeply into the dark closet, but you’re able to fish out the pink fabric soon enough.

               It's lace, you realize, your curiosity only doubling. That same pin-prickly feeling is back, and as you slowly flatten out the cloth, your breath catches.

               It’s a thong. Pink and lacy, with a bow decorating the back, right over the tailbone.

               But more than that, the thong looks familiar. There’s a thread pulled on the front right side, and a stain on the fabric at the very bottom, looking awfully similar to the color your own discharge makes once it’s been washed.

               Your fingers are shaking again, and you stumble back a bit, the back of your knees catching onto the bed so that you fall back and land on your ass, too busy staring at the cloth in your hands to bother trying to situate yourself.

               These panties are yours.

               You’re sure of it – you know because Stacy bought them for you a few months ago. She’d cheekily handed them to you with a big, gaudy bow on top, a wink sent your way and a demure because I know you’ve got a date tonight, and I also know you haven’t gotten laid in way too long. That was the night you’d been set up on a blind date with a friend’s coworker. He’d been nice, though you hadn’t slept with him, and you hadn’t gone out again after that. He didn’t seem all that interested in you as a romantic pursuit, but he was funny, and you’d hoped you could become friends, at least.

               And his name was Chris. And he’d gone missing a few days after.

               You drop the panties, a hand coming up to cover your mouth.

               You don’t want to, and you know you shouldn’t, but before you can stop yourself you’re rushing forward to the closet, digging back to that storage compartment and rooting around for anything else you can find. It must be a coincidence; it has to be a coincidence. These can’t be your panties, you must be mistaken – why would Uvogin have these? How could he have these? You’d lost them in the laundry a while back.

               At least, that’s what you’d assumed.

               Pulling your hand back, you see you’ve grabbed a few items. They’re smaller, not clothing, but nonetheless incriminating. There’s a chapstick container, with a strange flavor on it that you’ve only seen once, back when you won it in some weird fundraising fair you’d been at for your job. Kiwi banana grape, it said in curling black lettering, and when you pop open the top, you notice it’s almost completely empty.

               There’s also a button; it’s black with a strange shape, one you recognize as being from your favorite jacket. It’d fallen off one day, but you’d been too busy walking around the city to have realized. It was a real bummer, because it’d rendered the jacket unwearable because too big a draft would sneak through it.

               And lastly, there’s a bandaid – it’s old, you can tell, with a kiddy pattern of some fairies and a dinosaur on it that the nurse had apologized for having to use, telling you it was all they had available at the time. You remembered it – it’d made you laugh that you’d gotten your flu shot and she’d patched it up with a bandaid designed for six year olds, even going so far as to snap a photo and send it in the group chat you kept with your friends.

               You feel sick.

               Throwing the small items back into the compartment, you rush to the bathroom, barely making it before you’re heaving, all the curry you’d forced down your throat earlier coming right back up.

               What the fuck?

               Who was Uvogin? Why did he have all of this? How did he have all of this? What did it mean? Your head’s rushing, too many thoughts and implications swimming through your oversaturated mind, and you have just barely enough strength to flush the toilet and stand up, staring at yourself in the mirror.

               Stacy’s words rush back to you as you examine your face, seeing your wide eyes and the way your chest is rising and falling with each harsh breath slipping through your lips. He ignores you? That doesn’t make sense. None of it makes sense – none of it at all. Why would your by-association captor have any of your personal items? Especially personal items you’d lost or thrown away literal months ago, long before you’d ever started staying over at Stacy’s?

               You know why, you just don’t want to admit it, and as you stare at yourself in the mirror, you try to come up with any other possible explanation. No. It can’t be. Stacy’s the one with the creepy stalker, not me.

               Suddenly, the sound of the front door’s lock clicking open makes you snap up, adrenaline suddenly coursing through your veins. Uvogin’s home.

               Immediately you’re running to your bed, jumping under the covers and shutting your eyes tightly, praying that Uvogin will think you’re asleep and won’t bother you. You need more time to figure this out – it’s all too much, and while it probably won’t be any easier the longer you wait, you need something.

               You can’t look at him yet. You won’t.

               “I got your chips! Didn’t know which flavor to choose, so I got three I think you might like. I’m serious, though, you have to share. I’m an animal, and I will steal your food.” He laughs at that, and you hear him set down the grocery bags on the kitchen counter. Your eyes are still closed so tightly that it hurts, and you ball your fists up in the blankets as hard as you can. You’d curled up into a fetal position, and you force yourself to stay still as you hear his loud footsteps coming down the hall.

               He calls your name, peeking his head into every room he passes. Soon he sees you in your bed, and although you look a little stiff, his shoulders immediately lose their tension. A smile flits across his lips, and he slowly, quietly shuts the door, retreating back to his own room.

               You sigh, peeling open your eyes and trying to get your breathing under control. You’d been holding your breath, and now that he’s actually home in the apartment, it’s difficult to not let yourself panic.

               It becomes much, much more difficult when you hear a noise come from his bedroom, though. What the hell’s this?

               There’s a muffled curse, and your blood runs cold as quick, heavy footsteps lead right up to your door. He swings it open and your eyes fly shut, trying desperately in vain to appear like you’re still sleeping.

               “Wake the fuck up.” He says, and immediately you open your eyes, your fear too strong to ignore. He’s holding the pink panties in his hands, and you realize with a small burst of terror that in your haste to get to the bathroom, you’d left them on the floor. In his room. Right where he can see that they’ve been moved.

               Fuck fuck fuck.

               "I only have three rules. What are they?” He barks, and you’re trying to curl up even smaller, hoping his promise of not hurting you will still ring true. Though, he’s lied about pretty much everything else – how do you know if that part wasn’t all a lie, too?

               “No hurting myself, no escaping, and no – no snooping.” You whisper, and Uvogin bares his teeth.

               “I’ve been good to you – patient, something that takes a hell of a lot of effort for me. And what do you do in return? You go and do one of the very few things I’ve forbidden.” He looks impossibly tall right now, towering over you with those muscles, the panties looking downright tiny between his monstrous fingers. “Tell me why. Explain to me why the hell you were snooping through my closet.”

               You shut your eyes again, too scared to look at him. “I was putting away a shirt you left in the bathroom. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I don’t know why I did it, please don’t hurt me, please –“

               He interrupts you with a huff, and you tense up, waiting for some blow to land. It doesn’t, though, and after a good thirty seconds, you finally peel an eye open, almost too scared to see what he’s doing.

               You don’t expect the small smile that’s sitting on his lips, nor the hand on his hip. He locks his eyes with yours, then sighs. “Well, this is most definitely not the way I wanted you to find out. See, I had this whole plan – Nobunaga came up with it, one of the very few things he’s ever thought of that actually impressed me.”

               You’re confused again, but that sick feeling still hasn’t gone away. All you can seem to look at are your panties, wedged in his fist.

               “He told me that since you and Stacy were so close, we could cut a deal – kidnap you both at once, get more bang for our buck. There was no way to hide Nobunaga’s feelings for Stacy, sure, but you? Well, you haven’t noticed anyone following you, have you?” Uvogin asks, cocking his head at you and letting his smile get a bit wider.

               You quickly shake your head no.

               “I’m better at this stuff than he is. He always gets too excited to talk to her, wants to interact and have her lookin’ at him. I get it, I really do. Even now, even with you scared shitless and looking at me like I’m about to kill you, just you acknowledging me is getting me hard as a fucking rock.”

               Involuntarily, your eyes dart down to his navel, and with a small, strangled sound of fear, you notice the way there’s a prominent bulge forming in those shorts of his.

               He laughs at your change in focus, and steps forward. Hooking a finger under your chin, he smirks down at you. “I’m better at hiding myself, and I was willing to play the long game, content with watching you until the right time came to snatch you up. But when Nobunaga offered, telling me there was a way to get you all to myself and make sure you grew to want me organically? Well, I couldn’t resist, could I?”

               You want to tell him he absolutely could’ve, or that you wouldn’t have ‘wanted him organically’, whatever the hell that meant, but your tongue doesn’t seem to be working.

               He leans down, face coming closer and closer to yours. “You had no idea, did you? How do you think I knew what kind of mattress to get you? How do you think I knew exactly what to order for you for takeout, even when you were too scared to tell me? How do you think I know what shampoo and conditioner to buy you, or even what kind of fucking cologne you like? Believe me, I’m only wearing this shit for you.”

               You’re frozen, unable to move, unable to do anything but stare at him.

               “Do you get it now, princess? See, Nobunaga doesn’t give two shits about whether you live or die – he’ll get Stacy to do what he wants no matter what. But me? I give a shit.” He’s so close to you that you can smell his breath. It’s minty, like he’s just recently brushed his teeth. The cold smell only makes you shiver, fear still tingling up your spine.

               “Why?” You whisper, overwhelmed at his sudden confession.

               He pauses at that, smirk falling away as he genuinely considers your words. He’s quiet for a moment, before he smiles again, but this time it’s not as predatory – there’s something oddly soft about it, and it makes you feel worse.

               “Because you’re perfect. That’s all.” He answers like it’s the easiest thing in the world, and before you can say anything he’s clambering on the bed next to you. You want to fight him off, to jump up off the bed and run, but you can’t seem to find the energy to. Besides, you’re not delusional enough to think you could beat Uvogin in any sort of physical altercation or chase. And while he still seemed to be adhering to his promise of not hurting you, you didn’t feel like testing the waters.

               “So I guess the jig’s up. I was hoping you wouldn’t find out, but I can work with this, too. At least now I don’t have to act like I don’t know you. And now, I don’t have to do all that respectful distance shit – you’re mine now, babe, and now I don’t have to hide it.” He’s grinning again, his teeth looking too sharp, and before you can blink he’s above you, your wrists pinned above your head and his lips inches away from yours.

               “So why don’t I show you just how much your attention the last week’s been affecting me?” His voice is low, sultry, and makes you gulp. He presses his face into your neck, deeply inhaling and groaning. “I promise I can make you feel good… I’ll tell you my last rule, okay?”

               You’re frozen, but when he pulls back to glare at you, you shakily mutter out an ‘okay’.

               His grin is wolfish, predatory, scary. “Rule number four is no running away from me, even if that cute little body of yours can’t take anymore. Got it?”

               You nod.

#yandere hxh #yandere hunter x hunter #yandere uvogin #_lee's fics #_lee writes for ramwrites #_uvogin #_hxh

[levi-venn]

Accolades

500 Words Timeline: Pre-Order 66 Era Bad Batch Summary: Hunter turns official accolades into something more meaningful for his brothers.

Clone Force 99 never accepted accolades. It wasn't their thing. After all, they were created specifically for the missions no one else could do. Being rewarded for it seemed pointless.

And Hunter didn’t disagree…

…but when accolades were assigned, he always ended up sneaking out after his brothers had settled in for the night to speak to Commander Cody. 

The conversation was always the same.

“I’m sorry your brothers couldn’t make it…again,” Cody would say, handing the medals over.

“Yeah, well, they’re tired from the mission.” One of many excuses he had given Cody during this war.

“Tell them that, on behalf of myself and the generals, 'Keep up the great work, soldiers.'"

“Will do, Commander.” Hunter always said this with a smile. 

Cody returned that smile. They both knew Hunter wouldn’t relay the message. They both knew these medals weren't for his brothers, they were for Hunter.

Hunter had a painted box full of medals and ribbons for each of his brothers.

There was a digital skull skewered by a lightning bolt on Tech's box.

A bomb with a happy face for Wrecker.

And a skull with a crosshair vector over one eye for his youngest brother.

Recently, he added a box for Echo too. He went with a blue handprint for his newest brother, to honor Echo's old armor before the Separatists took nearly everything from him. 

With the exception of Echo’s box, Hunter had been filling these boxes since they were cadets. Their earliest medals had simple accolades from simpler times:

“Fastest Swimmer” - Tech. 

“Most Bullseyes in 60 Seconds” - Crosshair. 

“Feats of Strength” - Wrecker. 

“Leadership and Valor” - Hunter

The accolades shifted after graduation. They came from dangerous missions that ended in violence. Assigned to a bad batch of clones who were somehow expendable, yet the only ones who could survive these impossible situations.

This last mission had taken their toll on the whole squad. Too many clankers, not enough intel, they won the day, but throwing medals at them felt like an insult, even if Cody's appreciation was genuine.

Hunter wanted to turn those medals into something meaningful.

And so, Hunter sat on his bunk, a small laser tool in his bandaged hand, etching over each medal with his own accolades for his brothers.

Tech was awarded “Shooting the most clankers while slicing an AAT-1 and throwing barbed insults at Echo”.

For Crosshair: “The most WIZARD precision shot through a tank’s barrel while spitting a toothpick in a clanker’s eye”.

Wrecker received: “The loudest laugh while mowing down four dozen clankers and eating a hamburger simultaneously”. Hunter still didn’t know where he got that burger.

And finally for Echo, “The most somersaults during a stealth mission while throwing barbed insults back at Tech”

Hunter hesitated over his own medal, as he always did.

Giving himself accolades never sat right.  He could never think of anything, anyway.

So he wrote what he always wrote: “This medal is awarded to Hunter for being the proudest oldest brother in this Badass Batch. I love you guys.”

He tucked the medal away in his own box, a skull with cross-vibroblades beneath it, and tucked it under his mattress with the other boxes.

One day, this war was going to be over.

And on that day, Hunter planned to give these boxes to his brothers.

He couldn’t wait to see their faces.

#the bad batch #tbb hunter #the bad batch hunter #clone force 99 #tbb crosshair #tbb tech #tbb wrecker #tbb echo #the clone wars #commander cody #I had a lot of feelings today #usually my feelings are Crosshair and Tech centered #today I just want to hug Hunter and tell him its gonna be okay

[kirarifutari]

enhypen as fast food workers (enhypen ot7.)

GENRE .. !? enhypen ot7 headcanons i guess... pureee crack, comedy

WARNINGS .. !? not proof read, swearing, for shits and giggles don't take anything to heart lol

WC ..?! approx 852

NOTES.. ?! okay pls blame @dazed-hee for putting this thought into my head and helping me w this... i cannot believe i sat my ass down and wrote this,, yes i just got off work ... anyway i hope u enjoy this goofy little piece pls like + reblog to support!!

heeseung

actually does his job properly LOLLL

he's so good at it asw he is never ever stressed 😭😭 he never complains either he just gets shit done ?? like you'll be on shift w him and magically you don't have to do anything ever bc somehow he has it under control…?

all the customers love him asw LMAO he's the type to remember regulars 🙏

god sent everyone needs a heeseung to work with, he's even nice to the rude customers but is not afraid to be a little passive aggressive bitch 🤧

he never talks badly about anyone so no one ever shit talks him?? but if you ask him ab drama he'd be like “not naming any names but…” 😭

jay

he is exactly like heeseung except when is jay ever NOT stressed

he is internally crying every five seconds over something and every time a customer complains about something you can see the light in his eyes die little by little 💀💀

he doesn't even care what anyone else is doing he's just so caught up in doing his job he doesn't realise that he's doing everything himself…  more utc!

if you catch him on a good day tho you can hear him make fun of customer orders 😭 “who the fuck orders 3 hamburgers past the age of three years old…”

let's you do whatever you want bc hes too busy dealing w the emerging grey hairs 🙏

jake

the best person to work your shift w for a good time hands downnn

he's so funny he will make you cackle every five seconds,, you'll be taking a drive thru order and you'd be trying so fucking hard not to laugh into the mic 😭 he will fr start SINGING in ur ear goodbye

super friendly w customers and will literally start a conversation ab the most random things ?? “bro did you just order this family box?? you eating that yourself? that's crazy, mad respect” 💀

dawg does everything all at once, making burgers, taking orders, handing out food, changing the bins ??? yet somehow he's the one goofing off the most ? 

sunghoon

doesn't know how he landed the job tbh… everyone expected him to be unemployed the rest of his life 🔥

HE DOESNT KNOW HOW TO COUNT CHANGE W CASH 😭 bro tries his hardest but is always fumbling around fr,, our maths legend

the type to be like “hm? i can't hear you” “what did you say? “yeah just gimme a minute” he is TOO CHILL he's so unserious ab this job he clocks on and does nothing half the time 🙏 he'll say he'll do what you ask him too but... you both know he won't xoxox

somehow he's still one of the managers favourites and gets good shifts every week… 

if a customer yells at him he'd be like “yeah give me a second” and then just gets someone else to deal with it LMFAO 💀

sunoo

THE BIGGEST SHIT TALKER having a shift w him is so good, he somehow knows everything that's going on w everyone ??? fills you in w all the gossip fr.

he's rly bubbly w all the nice customers and is one of the nicer employees to work with but if ur on his bad side … 💀💀💀

like if you annoy him as a customer he will hand you order wordlessly and look you up and down HE DOESNT CAREEE BROOO 😭

if anyone ever blames him for doing something wrong on shift he literally will just be like “that wasn't me tho 😄😄” biggest liar and everyone knows it but no one cares cus we all love him 🫶

sunoo will definitely be the type to buy you food on his break or give you free stuff when you clock off 😭

jungwon

would be the biggest gas lighter LMFAO

“oh you ordered a double big mac and not a regular? yeah on our register it's gone through as regular so i don't know what you want me to do, you can pay for another one tho!” 💀💀💀💀

bro gives so much sass to rude customers he does NOT gaf, he does it all w a smile on his face too like “sorry about that but we can't do anything to fix it 😊” 

he’d be so chill w his co workers asw, he would really care if everyone's messing around but somehow w him on shift everything goes oddly smoothly… 

working w him is so fucking funny cus he will never take no for an answer w a customer he will keep pushing until they LEAVE 😭

niki

LMFAOOO okay this kid fucking hates his job LOL

will spit in a customers drink because he can 🙏 he will not take shit from anyone and he knows no one will fire him bc they're understaffed 😚

plays the best music and always has kitchen speaker aux !!!

if you ask him to remake a burger or help you with something he'll either give you a blank stare or a “no, i won't.” and then do it for you anyway 👊👊 he is such a little menace but he doesn't care 

w annoying ass customers he will literally start arguing w them STOP

would go viral on tiktok cus some customer was filming him being rude but everyone would be siding w him bc niki is always in the right godbless.

#ser writes ! #enhypen x reader #enhypen ot7 #enhypen #niki x reader #jake x reader #sunghoon x reader #heeseung x reader #sunoo x reader #jay x reader #jungwon x reader #enhypen fic #enhypen fluff #enhypen imagines #im past the point of caring this is too funny to me #yes i work at a fast food joint and yes i hate my job

[gotham-ruaidh]

Little Bit Better Than I Used To Be

Catch up: Chapter 1 (Starry Eyes) || Chapter 2 (Save Our Souls) || Chapter 3 (Dancing On Glass)|| Chapter 4 (Merry-Go-Round)|| Backstage (1) || Backstage (2) || Chapter 5 (Danger)|| Backstage (3) || Chapter 6A (Love Walked In) || Chapter 6B (Without You) || Backstage (4) || Chapter 7 (Stick To Your Guns) || Chapter 8 (Time For Change) || Backstage (5) || Chapter 9 (Take Me To The Top) || Backstage (6) || Chapter 10 (Home Sweet Home) || Backstage (7) || Chapter 11a (Nightrain) || Chapter 11b (Nothing Else Matters) || Chapter 12a (Handle With Care) || Chapter 12b (I’m So Tired of Being Lonely) || Chapter 13a (Angel) || Chapter 13b (She’s My Addiction) || Chapter 13c (Patience) Chapter 14a (Where Do We Go Now?) ||| Also posted at AO3

Chapter 14B: Where Do We Go Now?

Soundtrack: “Sweet Child O’ Mine,” Guns N’ Roses, 1987 [click here to listen]

Now and then when I see her face She takes me away to that special place And if I stare too long, I'd probably break down and cry

- Guns N’ Roses, “Sweet Child O’ Mine” (1987)

Tucson || July 1988

It didn’t matter what Colum or the label or anyone else said – all recording studios looked the same on the inside.

Sure, there were always small differences. The really comfortable couches at Sound City in Los Angeles. Electric Lady in Manhattan still had the really cool paint scheme that Jimi Hendrix himself had designed. Muscle Shoals in Alabama oozed coolness.

But this studio, whose name he couldn’t and didn’t care to remember, nestled down a back street in Tuscon was…tired.

Almost as tired as Jamie.

The “quick three week tour” had stretched to eight weeks, with no end in sight. Theater shows had been upgraded to arenas. Playing to thousands and thousands of ecstatic fans. Pouring their hearts out night after night after night, and squeezing in radio promos and sound checks and business meetings during the day.

Fucking exhilarating.

Everybody wanted a piece of Print – their music, their story. Jamie still hadn’t granted too many interviews this tour, but the press ate up every word he said about sobriety and music and forgiveness. Insatiable for details about the woman he had met in rehab, and written all the new songs about, and refused to name publicly.

Print was making more money than they knew what to do with. The label had sprung for a private plane, and nobody in the band missed the rickety and smelly tour bus (except Claire, because it was still all so new to her, which Jamie added to the list of thousands of reasons why he loved her). Their hotel rooms were bigger. Catering in the dressing rooms was much nicer.

Fucking exhausting.

So many people wanted a piece of Jamie every day. Ian and Angus, to run through the new material that just kept pouring out of them. Colum, to talk ticket sales and adding second and third nights in each city. The suits from the label, who kept finding them in Dallas and Kansas City and Detroit, slapping Jamie’s back and pushing terrible ideas for duets with pop stars or contributing to a movie soundtrack or pleading to do the acoustic set in a special for MTV.

And on top of that, some dirtbag reporter from the National Enquirer had figured out who Claire was, somehow got a hold of her personnel file from the hospital, and tracked down her shitty ex-husband for an exclusive interview. Splashed her life all over the tabloids, complete with very grainy photographs of the she and Jamie together, holding hands, on a rare day off in Nashville when he took her to a few honky-tonks. The one saving grace was that thankfully, nobody at The Ridge had said a word about anything about her time there, or the time they shared together.

Claire took it all in stride. She always understood. Holding him in the bathtub of their suite in Denver as he shook from another panic attack. Smiling over a three AM hamburger at a diner in Topeka. Whimpering as he came off stage in Atlanta, sweaty and keyed up from singing about her, hoisting her in his arms for a long kiss against the lighting equipment at side stage, heart stuttering to see his eye makeup smudged against her cheeks.

The man he was on the last tour – unhappy, unfulfilled, so deep in an addition he didn’t care to acknowledge – would not recognize the man he’d become on this tour.

“In ’86, we played seventy eight dates. We had a number one record. I bought my house, and my motorcycle, and my car.” Quietly he sipped coffee in their suite in Seattle, watching the city wake up, running his thumb over Claire’s shoulder as she settled against him in front of the window.

“You had everything you had always dreamed of.”

He snorted. “I was a mess. All I could think about during every show was how to find a girl or a bottle or a baggie as quickly as possible. And the crew would always do that for me.”

The crew respected his – and Claire’s – request for no drugs or alcohol backstage this tour. What the techs and roadies and production crew did on their own time, in their own hotel rooms, with whoever they wanted to – Jamie didn’t care. But for everyone to help with, to respect, his sobriety was a gift. And he never stopped saying thank you.

“If only those reporters could see you now – Jamie Fraser swaggering off stage for an Evian.”

He smiled. “And to kiss this beautiful doctor who for some reason keeps following him around. Because he loves her, more than any man has ever loved any woman.”

He wanted to provide for her. To shelter and protect her. To never leave her side ever again.

She didn’t need him to do any of that, of course. They’d talked about it many times. But she wanted him to do that. And the fact that she chose him, kept choosing him…that was why they kept going. Kept each other sober. Kept holding each other up.

They’d agreed that this time on tour was for her to understand this part of him – and to help both of them decide how and where they would live once the tour was done.

Which is why the radio silence from Boston, four weeks after mailing the letter from Philadelphia asking, politely, just what the hell was going on…was so fucking crushing.

The stress of that – and the grind of touring – did make it just a bit more difficult every day.

Thankfully Colum had scheduled a week-long break at the end of the month. Angus was already planning a trip to Aruba with the two groupies, who truth be told had grown on the rest of the band. Ian was planning to spend the week with his wife, Jamie’s sister Jenny, and their kids.

And Jamie and Claire – well, they’d be getting married.

Only a few people knew, with good reason. Ian and Jenny, of course. Alec and Faith, in New York. Colum. Dougal MacKenzie and his wife Gillian, who had helped both Jamie and Claire so much at The Ridge. Uncle Lamb, who would officiate. And Claire’s friends Joe and Gail Abernathy, who had quite literally saved her life by getting her to The Ridge in the first place.

The service would be simple. Exactly what they wanted – what they needed.

And after that…well. They would truly be husband and wife.

But there was a lot to do – a lot to take care of – between now and then. Not the least of which was, wrapping up this recording session.

The time laying down acoustic tracks in Philadelphia last month was very well spent. They weren't so rusty. But the guys were eager to hear the songs in electric form. And since they were in Tucson, and Colum knew Bobby Higgins – who not only owned this studio, but who had also produced that really killer Ratt album in ’84…

“OK, Jamie.”

Jamie took a deep breath, and looked up through the glass at Bobby, hunched over the console in the control room.

“Ready for take two?”

Jamie looked left, to Angus – and right, to Ian.

“Yup.”

“OK – this is In My Veins, take two.”

Jamie grit his teeth.

Caught Claire’s eye in the control room.

She smiled.

He relaxed.

Angus counted in on his drumsticks, and then started the heavy beat like they’d discussed.

Four bars – and Jamie’s guitar and Ian’s bass joined in.

--

“That was really, really great, Jamie.”

Claire handed him a new bottle of water, cap already twisted off. He drank it in four deep gulps.

“I know you’re not shitting me. So thank you.”

Quickly she looked over her shoulder – Angus’ cheeks were being loudly kissed by the groupies, and Ian played around with his bass, and Colum and Bobby were deep in conversation in the control room.

“Where are you?”

She had pulled him away before, when the panic attacks were coming, and he knew she’d do it again right now if needed.

He wiped his mouth with the back of a sweaty hand. “About an eight out of ten.”

“Do you need a break?”

He met her eyes. “I need a meeting. Been thinking about my old friend Jack Daniels all day.”

“Did you see something?”

He sighed. “I’ve only played electric a handful of times since I got back from The Ridge.” He looked down at the gorgeous Stratocaster strapped across his chest, fist flexing. “I got this guitar because the black tone and white trim matched the label on the bottle. Stupid, I know. But it’s all I could think about today.”

“Not stupid. We’ll deal with it. You should call Alec. And I can find you a meeting.”

He leaned in, and kissed her forehead. “I love you. I’ll call him. And I need to sell this guitar.”

She nodded. “We’ll find a charity.”

He kissed her again. “I love you.”

She kissed him quickly, and returned to the control room.

Grateful that Jamie had turned away to talk to the guys, when Colum tapped her on the shoulder, and slid over an envelope postmarked Boston.

“Mail call. Do I want to know?”

She shook her head, folded the letter, and slid it into the back pocket of her jeans. “Is there a Yellow Pages I can borrow?”

#outlander #outlander fanfic #jamie and claire #little bit better than i used to be

[i-am-church-the-cat]

Logan Sargeant is a silly little guy

@vii-tto idk why but it wouldn't let me tag you. Hopefully you see this. also @spell-of-the-rain i added things if you want to check out 75-87

But here's the list of things i know/want to know about logan sargeant

Favorite Actor is Brad Pitt

Favorite Movie is Wolf of Wall Street

Favorite food is a hamburger

Has a boat and often goes deep sea fishing

Lived in London since he was 15

Lose Yourself by Eminem is his favorite hype up song

Is a Dolphins and Heat fan

Enjoyed “No Man, No Cry” by Jimmy Sax

Drinks iced lattes with oat milk

Pumpkin spice lattes?? Edit 12/16/23: No

Has been to Wimbledon

Knows what cricket is

Has a rescue dog named Coco

Also enjoys hockey Edit 11/1/23: Supports the Florida Panthers NHL team and has gone to at least 1 of their games with his friend Kyle Kirkwood

Does he follow college football?

What does he think of the new Miami head coach? 

If not for motorsport, does he think he would have gone pro in a different sport, and if so which one?

Enjoys listening to 50 Cent (is also a big rap fan in general)

Can he speak any other languages with any degree of familiarity?

Cannot draw

Can make a sandwich (other foods?)

Rates all food from one bite and with weird decimals

Gritty-ed in his f1 car

Makes the Williams photographers look like they take good photos

Does he have an English or a Florida driver’s license? And does he still have US citizenship even though he lives in the UK? What kind of visa is he on?

Top three female athletes? (Serena Williams, Simone Biles, and Megan Rapinoe are all acceptable answers) 

Collects Aussies and Kiwis for friends

Does he like the snow? Prefers the heat but does he like snow?

Does he like Missy Elliot? (Requirement) 

“Basic Halloween Bitch”

Calls people “mate” but in an American accent which will never stop being funny

Eye Crinkles™️

Does not have a set eye color he’s just too mystical for that

Has never been to a concert (presumably too busy with racing)

He can swim, he can drive, but can he ride a bike? Edit 11/15/23: He can indeed ride a bike

American commercial cars or  European ones?

Has an older brother but is like an older brother to Benny’s kid

Likes marshmallows

Does not like black beans

Did not think apple could be chips

Knows how to sail??

Knows how to golf

Can paddle (required for any F1 driver)

Lost the F3 championship in 2020 bc of a DNF in the last race

Can he sing??

Does he drink energy drinks? Red Bull or Monster? 

He and Duracell are passionately making out

Blush is very pretty 

Wears a lot of baseball hats

Somehow beat jet lag (expat king)

Mostly spends his nights in but he has some nights out (presumably very interesting ones)

Has an iPhone with a blue case

He looks very pretty in blue

His eyes are sometimes blue

Blue=fav color?? Edit 11/6/23: favorite color is Ocean blue (credit to @spell-of-the-rain)

Pretty insecure (armchair diagnosed anxiety)

Close with his brother and parents but maybe not his extended family?

Is Florida State his college team?? (Worst thing a man can be is a Florida St fan) Edit 12/16/23: believing that FSU got screwed over this year is acceptable

Did he graduate high school??

Did he ever consider going into NASCAR or did moving to Europe at a young age kind of set in stone his path towards open-wheel racing?

Hair is blond/dirty blond

Does he vote in American elections?? (If he supports RonD I cannot stan)

Burger Sauce™️

Logan Hunter Sargeant, certified Frat Bro, most American man ever

Has seen peaky blinder and presumably stranger things

Knows how to carve a pumpkin but has not celebrated Halloween at home in a bit

Possibly dating some instagram model

Caused $4 million in damages, gets payed $1 million a year, and supposedly brings in $30 million in sponsors

Key phrases: “Locked in”, “Bam/Boom”, “Done and dusted” Additions 11/1/23: "Oh hell yeah", "I think you're a little lost here, Chief". Additions 11/6/23: “Yeh” (gets quieter throughout the word (how it’s one syllable??)), “on the bounce” (credit to @spell-of-the-rain i believe)

Joined the Williams Driver Academy in 2021 

Got stuck in F3 bc he didn’t have the money to move up

Driver for Carlin in 2022

Former teammates include Liam Lawson, Oscar Piastri, Frederick Vesti (Edit 11/6/23: Max Fewtrell possibly?)

DOB: December 31, 2000

5'11

Had a giveaway for gloves he used to win an F4 race on Twitter in 2017 and both Lando Norris and Max Fewtrell replied

Originally his number was 3 but he switched to 2 for F1 (to much fan consternation who thought he had so many better options)

Childhood best friends with Kyle Kirkwood, a current Indycar driver

Logan's older brother Dalton raced in NASCAR until 2018

Did a commercial for Sport23

Does not have cowboy boots as of COTA 2023

Born in Ft. Lauderdale, Florida, USA

lived in Switzerland from 14-15(?)

knows the conversion rate for a kilometer

is taller than a tuna fish

Podiumed at the Macau Grand Prix in 2019

Won the CIK-FIA championship when he was 14 Additions as of 11/1/23

Loves waffles but they are not his favorite dessert

Very patriotic (oh hell yeah)

is the first American F1 point scorer in 30 years and the first one to score on home soil since 1989

Went to see the Nets in NYC (but would have preferred to see the Knicks)

has a custom Miami Dolphins jersey with his last name on the back

Claims to know all the lyrics to "Ice Ice Baby" (credit to @formulaaone) (Edited 11/6/23)

Additions as of 11/6/23:

Under the same talent agency as Alex Albon

Has the same manager as George Russell

George Russell was his mentor coming up

Went to a catholic private school (credit to @wenevrknew)

Does not like fish? (Credit to @spell-of-the-rain)

He runs weird (in my opinion as he reminds me of my brother when he was 12 (he ran very strangely))

Karted in Las Vegas when he was a kid

Can he drive a stick shift? (Alex believes he cannot)

Enjoys video games

Refers to his car as “she”

Knew how to attach a visor to his helmet prior to February(? Could’ve been March but before the season) 2023

Additions as of 12/16/23

Broke his arm in a 2014 German Karting Championship when Marcus Armstrong took him out at T1 (credit to @spell-of-the-rain )

Has gotten his head eaten by the Golden Knights mascot

If he could have any superpower, he would like to teleport

Has never flown a drone

Favorite racing movie is Talladega Nights (sad Mater noises)

Does not trust other people to drive him

Would rather sleep in then get up early

Considers himself fairly organized

His mother makes a very good sweet potato casserole

Got his habit of worrying from his mom

“Santa’s Little Helper”

Driving for Williams Racing Formula 1 Team in 2024

Got out qualified by his teammate every race of 2023

#logan sargeant #formula 1 #only one other person asked for this and they dmed me #but i'll make a post anyway #this is also an in progress list #so feel free to add stuff #logan lore list

[krukel]

After @seokoilua posted about the My Life, My Music interview (a while ago, this post is partially from my drafts!) I went to relisten to it. And in general it is a very fun interview with a lot of insightful moments about their creation process (Ne Bi Smel in particular) and the mixing process for example. Their voices in general are very soft (in tone, not volume) especially when talking to each other and the vibe is 🥰 I wanted to highlights some of my favourite moments because I want more people to know about them:

2:35 - They talk a bit about doing many concerts in a row and Kris says: "At one point in the summer we had four consecutive days of concerts and the fourth day was already the wors-" (gets cut of by Bojan). Knowing they have now done 7 concerts in 6 days during the nordic tour this is a little funny and a little sad to hear :(

3:59 - Not necessarily a moment but the first song (chosen by Bojan) is Ni Panike by Masayah and I think more people should go listen to Masayah so I'm including it >:)

14:30 - Ne Bi Smel was first called "burning room" and, quoting Bojan, "it couldn't have been more of an Ed Sheeran song." It sounds like the rest was not initially impressed: "and when I brought it to the rehearsal room the boys were like, yeah, hm, yeah no. and I think Jure just started banging on the drums and the guys took on the guitars and started playing some riff."

15:35 - The host asks a question about something they said somewhere else and Bojan and Kris argue a bit about who said that in the first place. It's very cute and my favourite moment is Bojan whispering at the end "I don't think so" because of course he needs to get last word in

21:34 - Hater!Kris returns because apparently he sends "not to appealing" songs to the groupchat?

Kris (about Jet Black Diamonds): The first time that we heard them it was their first single Retro Anorak, and I remember sending over the video to the guys in the group chat and I was like "oh, this is interesting," because usually I send some really… not too- Host: Obscure Kris: No no. Not too appealing Slovenian songs, because- Bojan: Yeah, Kris does that Kris: to be honest there's loads of them and I keep kinda getting them recommended somehow on Facebook or I dunno, it's like a positive feedback loop

Honestly the most surprising thing to me about this is that in the year of our lord 2022 Kris still used Facebook actively enough to stumble across things like that

23:56 - Kris talks about forming Buržoazija and how his guitar instructor recommended Jan: "Jan at that point was really like- I didn't really understand what he was about, he was like an introverted guy, really, also listening to a lot of metal and I was like "okaaay? I guess we'll try?" and then we started to practice and really got along."

25:45 - Luka (Apokalipsa's guitar player) and Martin already knew how to play and Bojan didn't and that's how they decided that he should sing. Also their first performance (also up on youtube, baby Bojči is very cute) was two (2!!) weeks after they started practising together

28:49 - About creating outside of Slovenia

Host: Is there something specific that you haven't yet done that you are desperately keen to do, or is this gonna gently evolve? Bojan: I dunno about the desperately want to do, I guess one thing we "truly desperately want to do" is go out of Slovenia to create. To try a new space. So go to a studio somewhere outside of our borders and see if the mindflow is different there. That is the only thing I can think of right now. Maybe Kris has- Kris: In addition to that, I really wanna see us tour anywhere, anywhere outside of Slovenia" Host: You are beginning to get to the audience already a little bit, […], you can find opportunities Kris: Yes, yes, we are, don't worry about it. We just don't want to talk to much about it yet Bojan: Let's say we're gonna have another interview next year and we're gonna have so much to talk about

This was before Hamburg where they created Carpe Diem and before London and honestly I'm glad they're getting to experience that Erasmus+/semester abroad experience because it's something they really wanted to do and they seem to be enjoying it a lot

#joker out #bojan cvjetićanin #kris guštin #bojan #kris #hater kris is my favourite kris 🥰 #hope you don't mind me tagging you seokoilua!

[yuurivoiceincorporated]

I need headcannons on how al, Seth and listener would act as parents.

Al, Seth, Listener as Parent headcanons

-i am going to assume that this is polyamorous

-I think Al would be super upbeat and fun to have as a dad, but he for sure holds his kid accountable when they mess up

-he always tell them not to be stupid and that’s probably because of what he did in his past

-that is to say, I don’t think he’s super strict, but be definitely disciplines when needed (in a healthy way ofc)

-Seth is the classic beer hamburger grilling dad there is lmao

-insists on teaching the kid life skills instead of only focusing on academics

-sometimes he’d take out the kid for a ride on his motorcycle, with a little helmet (once they’re old enough)

-I think his relationship with his parents would make him a more active parent in the child’s life

-kid’s got a game? He’s there. Kid has a concert? Already bought tickets somehow.

-definitely calls the kid champ or kiddo

-listener is like the nurturing gentle parent until the kid fucks up

-anytime the kid wants something or wants to do something, Al and Seth always tell them to ask Listener

-listener teaches the kid how to cook and bake so that they don’t end up like Alphonse who burnt mf pancakes

-always there to listen and help

-but much like Al, when the kid messes up, discipline is enforced

-but very empathetic and understanding

#yuurivoice #x listener #x reader #yuurivoice seth #yuurivoice alphonse

[hmshermitcraft]

Tango loves all the hermits and Jimmy he knows they all really want to try decked out 2 especially Jimmy but given how tango has seen Jimmy play out in the life series…he’s reasonably concerned and when he mentioned to Grian he was gonna let jimmy play it Grian just froze for a solid ten minutes before telling tango he’s only gonna be allowed the first level right?…Right?!

Well nope! Turns out jimmy asked for the hardest level out the gate. And on one hand most of the other hermits were amused to see both Tango and Grian running around like headless chickens panicking but on the other many of the other hermits who were apart of the life games very much understood their concerns for jimmy. And all the more so when not a week earlier Joel showed them all a video of Jimmy losing a fight to an axolotl over a hamburger now Tango was only panicking more!

So some of the hermits pulled Jimmy aside and explained to them that Tango is sorta having a major freak out over his safety. And Jimmy understands he’s clumsier than a greased up chicken but he wants a chance to experience decked out like everyone else! And when it was time to let Jimmy have a run he went in and hoped for the best!

And by whatever god hasn’t forsaken the hermitcraft server yet he survived!…Well after almost getting skewered, incinerated, ravagered, and winning a fist fight with a warden of all things! He came out alive albeit slightly cooked and Tango was just speechless before Jimmy said “So? How’d I do?” at which point Tango fainted on the spot.

Rando anon

Tango gave Jimmy a deck he thought would be fair for the harder difficulty, with advice from some of the other hermits. Zed even did a test run or two to see if it was possible!

They still didn't expect Jimmy to do it. They didn't even expect him to reach the third floor. Grian guessed he'd die on the first floor, feel horrible embarrassed, and start doing runs on easy like a normal person.

He guesses his mistake was thinking Jimmy is in any way a normal person that thinks thoughts using logic. Because he's not. He's an idiot. But even worse, he's their idiot and he's in mines and somehow he's surviving.

It takes a while to believe Tango didn't manipulate the game for him to survive. Jimmy got out the game and got confused when the frost embers took a while to come out. He didn't even realise he could buy things in the shop! How did he survive that?!

He's an enigma. And now he's using the fact he survived to demand attention from anybody he wants.

They can't really say no after that performance, can they?

#hermitshipping #ask #grian tag #tango tag #jimmy tag #polyhermits + Jimmy #rando anon #mod 🎀

[thcfountain]

anonymous asked: "I just had like the worst day at work 🙃 could I request a cute little something where Matt helps reader get her mind off of a bad day? I love the way you write Matt 💙"

content tags: prestablished relationship between Matt Dierkes and fem!readed (no use of pronouns used for reader, but the words "my girl" are used.) fluff, comedy. 872 words.

banner from here. to join my tag list click here.

tag list: @to-be-written @th4t-em0-k1d @cheyyyr @somewhere-diamond @ravieisunhinged @blackveilomens @sprokat @jilliemiw86

Your day had been, for better lack of eloquent words, complete and utter shit. Anything that could possibly go wrong, somehow did, and to add to your growing frustration and despair, your coworkers were absolutely buffoons who offered you no help, leaving you to fix everything on your own.

Truthfully, the only thing that got you to the end of the day without an outburst or crying, were the little texts that your boyfriend, Matt, sent you as the day progressed. He was unaware of your terrible day as it was happening since you had little time to reply at any point, but the messages made things easier.

At lunch, he had sent you a selfie with Boo, with a message that said, “someone misses mommy :).”

And then half an hour later he followed it with, “it's me. I miss you. Can't wait for you to come home.”

An hour before you were set to clock out, he sent one last text, “Hater Mode Activated against your job for keeping you from me!!!”

Suffice it to say but without Matt and his little texts, you might not have gotten through the day at all. So when you got home, you quickly slipped off your shoes and jacket and placed your keys and other belongings down almost immediately and then practically ran to find Matt.

From the open patio door, you hear music and the occasional bark from Boo and when you finally step out the door, you find Matt in his Slipknot apron, standing over the grill as he grills up dinner, occasionally tossing Boo little pieces of unseasoned hamburger as a treat.

It wasn't hard to sneak up on him since he had his back turned, attention on his furry son, who was begging for another piece of hamburger. You slipped your arms around him from behind, wrapping them around the middle of his stomach and pressing your face into his back, finally sighing in relief at being home, at your work day officially being over.

“There's my girl,” says Matt, gently patting your hands and then turning around in your embrace in order to give you a proper hug. “Dinner is almost ready,” he adds and then pauses as he takes in the look on your face, reading you as easily as one read a beloved book that they had read a hundred times before. “Hey what's wrong? Bad day?”

“Yes,” you reply and he immediately pulls you tight against his chest, hugging you so hard that it felt like he was trying to squeeze the sadness out of you.

“I know what will make you feel better,” he says, rubbing your back in a comforting circle. “Some good, fuckin hot dogs,” he says it so gently, so full of love and seriousness that you can't help but laugh. He lets you go and puts together a plate for you of food from his grill. “Let me turn the grill off and I'll meet you inside with my plate and you can tell me about your day as we eat.”

You had popped open a bottle of wine and as the two of you ate, he listened to your complaints and frustrations, letting you talk out your feelings until you had nothing else left to say. You downed your glass having finished your dinner somewhere amidst the complaints and rants and suddenly felt a little bad that you'd spent the entire meal talking about yourself and your own issues, not even having yet thanked Matt for making dinner.

He doesn't seemed fazed by it though - he understood that you needed that space to vent freely about your emotions and he had given it to you without a second thought. “Want me to go in and kick some asses tomorrow?” He asks, a touch of that Texan twang coming through. “Or better yet, I'll call Noah and let him put his new muscles to use and beat up everyone who upset you.” He gives you a little smile to let you know that he's joking.

He reaches across your shared dining table, taking your hand in his own. “Thank you,” the words come out softly and he furrows his brows, looking a little confused when you say them. “For listening,” you clarify, giving his hand a squeeze. “And for making dinner.”

His free hand cups your cheek, thumb caressing your skin. “I love you.” He doesn't list all the reasons why he did these things or give you any other reasoning because I love you covered it all for Matt. His ‘I love you’ was big enough to cover your needs, to explain why he did things for you - those three words were all he needed to say. “And you're welcome for the best fucking hot dog you've ever had, minus my hot dog, because we both know you love my meat in your mouth.”

You burst into uncontrollable laughter, unable to contain it after hearing such ridiculous words following such a sweet sentiment as ‘I love you.’ 

“You did not just call your dick a hot dog!” You almost can't breathe between the much needed bouts of laughter. “I'm texting that to Noah.”

“Wait no, he won't let it go-”

#matt dierkes x reader

[meanferalbutch]

I can’t stop thinking about a pretty little femme who tries to tame a butch werewolf in both of her forms.

She comes across this giant dog stalking by the edge of the woods one day after work, and she watches it closely. It clearly distrusts humans, as it won’t take the hamburger she had left over from lunch, even after she leaves it 30 feet away. She’s not sure what type of breed the dog is, maybe a husky? What’s that big one, a malamute? (Listen, she’s never met a wolf before!) With a coat so soft and shiny looking she doubts it’s a stray, but the skittish behavior towards humans and the goosebumps that raise on her neck to warn her of danger whenever this dog meets her eyes makes her doubt this could ever be someone’s domesticated pet.

So she starts to come by every day with a hamburger to try and catch it. She learns the dog is very standoffish, and picky. She didn’t know this was possible for a dog, but it somehow knows when she hasn’t taken the pickles off. It also seems to eat much quicker, come much closer when she puts an effort into the presentation of the meal.

She talks for hours to her butch coworker about how she started with plain Tupperware, now the spoiled thing requires her to plate the dish and take the pickles off. Her coworker just shakes her head and asks why she keeps making hamburgers alongside her regular lunch if it’s so much effort. She replies that it’s not really about the effort, it’s about teaching this wild thing that not all people are bad. That there’s kindness in the world, too. The femme explains that she’s actually not a big fan of hamburgers, but she is great at making them, in fact, would she like for her to bring an extra one for the butch to eat tomorrow? Her coworker nods very enthusiastically, so enthusiastic she could have sworn she saw her start to salivate.

“No pickles, please”, the butch says.

“Just like the dog!”

“Just like the dog.” The butch smirks back.

She can tell they are both opening up, even if it is slowly. To be honest, it seems like neither of them have really been shown much kindness. That’s a real shame, the femme decides, so she starts religiously packing her coworker a pickle-free hamburger every day, with one kind note in the bag of each one. The dog also gets its own hamburger, of course. So they carry on like this, one hamburger for the butch, one for the dog after work.

Until one day the dog doesn’t show up. The coworker is also out sick that day, so the femme asks around for her address to bring her some chicken noodle soup (but she also packs a hamburger, just in case). When the butch opens the door for her she’s clearly been hurt.

She’s got her right leg bundled up and she keeps dismissing questions about it. “Hunting accident.” Is about the only details the femme gets out of her. Says she will be back tomorrow, not to worry about her. Thanks her kindly for the soup and hamburger and when they get to the door to say goodbye she hugs her, even though she winces a bit when her leg shifts.

The femme tries to find the wolf that same day with no luck. At least, she thinks it’s a wolf. she’s done some research by now and is pretty certain that her “husky” isn’t some house pet. It might be dangerous and stupid to feed a wolf, but she can’t stop herself, she has to pet it, she has to show it how soft the world can be.

A few days later, after her coworker had returned to work, the wolf comes back. It slinks out of the tree line, and for a second she thinks that it can’t possibly be, but she can see the wolf is also limping on her right leg. It looks slightly healed up, but clearly the poor thing stepped in a trap at some point. She disappears for a few moments to her car, and comes back with some minor first aid supplies. She didn’t have vet wrap, but maybe if she moved very slowly and carefully she could at least try to clean it and put some gauze over it.

The wolf is shockingly calm and peaceable about the process. Of course, she starts slow, placing her hands ever so gently around the back paw. She pours some alcohol over the wound, which the wolf winces at but astonishingly does not bare her teeth or show any aggression. When she gets to the end, she struggles with how to wrap and secure the wound. The bandaids won’t stick to fur, and her gauze isn’t self adhesive. She tries in vain for a few moments before the wolf stills her hand, licking her palm and then her forearm to get her to stop.

“I’m so sorry baby, I know it hurts, I’m trying to take care of it for you” the femme explains gently

Then suddenly, she no longer is holding a big burly wolf in her lap. In a bright flash, she is now instead holding her big burly butch coworker in her lap. While her brain struggles to catch up, the butch reaches up to hold her cheek.

“It feels alright, but i figured you might find this process easier with some skin to work with” the butch smirks, like all of this is completely obvious and a giant wolf didn’t just turn into a woman in her arms. The butch giggles at her expression and gives her a big, wet kiss only slightly reminiscent of the licks she got on her hand earlier.

“Sorry to surprise you, but thanks for all of the hamburgers!”

The femme takes a beat before replying

“…Have you been tricking me so you can get two hamburgers this whole time?!”

And they both collapse onto the cool forest ground to laugh in each others arms.

This is about lesbians and my blog is nsft so men minors and terfs dni

#sorry this is so long ahhhh #something came over me #mine #my stories #I haven’t written in so long be nice lol #butch werewolf #butch4femme #butch4femme stories #butch werewolf and pretty femme #are these OCs now? I guess they have a tag #long post #if anyone hasn’t turned off long posts on your dash lol #lesbian monster fucker #lesbian werewolf #ooos forgot to put the warning at the end so edit

[royallygray]

JUST WATCHED EP3 TO THE END OF THE LIGHTNING THIEF AND OH BOY

I enjoyed that. Significantly. SOME OF MY FAVORITE THINGS (spoilers):

Hades is so fucking based? And for what? Like he's so chill he's chill in the books but Hades is cool as a cucumber

Pausing the show to rant to my friend about stuff that was inaccurate or just how cool stuff is. I love the show.

The funniest fucking thing was when Cerberus fucking broke through the clouds after Percy squeaked the ball and that was a literal jump scare and I screamed. It was fucking amazing.

I was so mad after Annabeth hugged Percy at the Arch and Grover didn't get a hug. LET MY FUCKING BOYS HUG OH MY GODS IDK IF THEY HUG IN THE BOOKS BUT GROVER LOOKED SO LONELY

Speaking of: GROVER IS THE MOST FUCKING AMAZING CHARACTER. HE GASLIT ARES. I LOVE HIM.

Speaking of, I also enjoyed Annabeth gaslighting Hermes.

I also liked screaming "LIN-MANUEL MIRANDA" when he was going up the elevator.

Also Medusa was kind of like... nice? And I got weirdly attached to her? Also where was the diner I wanted them to eat their hamburgers in the diner

grovers conflict resolution skills are. peak

the scene where he snaps at them after Medusa is dead is fucking amazing.

My friend and I were so upset that Percy and Annabeth didn't have the double stuf Oreo scene in the shitty animal trafficking truck

although when they got out of the truck and let the animals escape, I fucking adored Grover being like "the animals are safe" and Percy being like "I meant the humans" and Grover going "oh. them. well, the animals are safe!"

Fucking hated Echidna. Bitch. I enjoyed hating her. She looks like if a school counselor got sent to an insane asylum and broke out. I don't know how, but it works in my brain.

I was screaming the entire time they were at the Arch. I went summer o' 2023 and LIKE. IT WAS SO COOL. Also Thomas Jefferson? Legend. I went to Monticello and the UVA on the same trip. I fucking love architecture. Really hate that he had slaves. The architecture was really cool though. Not a good person, but he does like his fucking brick roads. Seriously. So many brick roads. He's a hypocrite politician who had slaves, he is, but also designed some pretty fucking cool architecture.

Anyways back to the Arch, I WALKED ON THAT GROUND THAT THEY WALKED ON YIPPEE :D

Also I was a little disappointed that Percy slipped off of the Arch rather than jumping but whatever

OMG THE HEPHAESTUS SCENE ANNABETH I LOVE YOU. I fucking loved that scene she fucking solved it.

Also Sally wanting Percy to be different from the gods because their family is shitty AF? sad. AND him actually being different and Annabeth believing in him? sad.

AND LUKE. SOMEHOW I LIKED LUKE AT THE END. AND MY FRIEND AND I HAD AN ENTIRE DISCUSSION.

LUKE'S REASONS WERE SO FUCKING JUSTIFIED AND IT MAKES ME SAD. Sure, he shouldn't've fucking SOLD HIS SOUL to Kronos, but gods. Luke. You were right. You are right. The gods should fucking carry their slack, and while I don't think Percy believed him at first, at least not completely, I think by Last Olympian Percy understands completely where he's coming from, because Percy has a lot of pent up emotions at the gods too and I think Luke got part of what he wanted. I think

ANYWAYS HERE ARE SOME PHOTOS I TOOK WHEN WE PAUSED THE SHOW TO TALK:

the second one of Ares (the contemplation face) is a meme. I guarantee it. I can't remember which meme, I just remember that I've seen that facial expression before.

the angles of Ares and Grover for the 1st Grover one (the weird above angle) were strange. like a detective scene. a strange detective scene. it was fucking hilarious.

Grover having his head out of the roof was such an amazing moment for me. I loved it. It's such a good picture.

also here's a meme I made

Thank you for coming to my ted talk and have a nice rotation of Earth's axis :)

#pjo hoo toa #pjo #pjo series #pjo spoilers #percy jackson #annabeth chase #grover underwood #pjo tv show

[alittlebirb]

Some excitement and enthusiasm from the MCC 23 Lime Llamas!

The panic and excitement from Antfrost when he was able to sub in, as well as his determination to be PGfrost

Antfrost saying he's been wanting to team with Scar for a while

"I'm so glad you're on our team, because you destroyed me yesterday. You had your claws out!" -Scar to Ant

Jimmy being very impressed at Ant's dedication to getting the Mike Wazowski skin on short notice

Scar doing a Ghost of Top Gun Past bit in order to roast Timmy for not watching the movie

Scar's destressing techniques including holding a hamburger Cub gave him and petting a cat that's playing chess

"I am the slushy fairy here on MCC. I do what I can." -Scar

Jimmy turning into an advertising bot and calling for everyone to join Youtube Gaming today!

Scar giving out fries and keeping everyone salted up

Everyone one upping each other on the amount of times they rewatched the update video

Scar setting everyone up in a burger line, Ant - Cub -Tim -Scar, and pronouncing this will be the order they play the games in

Scar comparing the light show at the beginning to the Disneyland fireworks

"I always find a way to tie it back to Disneyland, you know that." -Scar

"I hope we're intimidating the other teams with our crazy cool skins." -Scar

SG being chosen and Scar asking Ant, "have you ever heard of the barn strategy?"

"They will sense blood, because I watched the vods last time and they were all, Scar Bad! Get Him! We'll stay in the shadows, and then I'll water bucket mlg them to death." -Scar

Scar going on a rant about how disrespectful and ugly capri pants are, and sliding in "Impulse, big capri pants fan, by the way."

Martyn staring at the team and Scar saying he's killed him twice in Double Life, and he'll kill him again

Jimmy trying to find allies for his refusal to use a mouse pad and in absolute contrast, Ant saying he has a special mouse pad which fits to his keyboard

Cub saying he never finished Harry Potter and asking for no spoilers, please

"I don't think Scar can read." -Jim

"I often go on long, winding monologues." -Scar

Ants beginning to crawl up Scar's legs, and Scar talking about how one time ants crawled in his ear, to everyone's great chagrin

Scar quietly saying hawkeye! in the background

Lime winning SG!

"I've got tears in my eyes, tears in my eyes!" -Jimmy

Scar having trouble saying multiplier and asking for Bdubs

Scar comparing the elevator joke to the Twlight Tower of Terror...rip to the Twilight Tower of Terror

Scar muting before AR in order to go on his winding monologues

Tim somehow thinking that there were 2 laps in the new AR map and being aghast at the fact there's 4

Scar calling PeteZahHutt "Pete the Pizza Man" in GR

Jimmy asking Scar if this is what they do in Top Gun when shooting targets, and Scar telling him that "if you bring up that sore subject again, I'll burn your barn down."

The struggle of trying to get everyone into the tubes in the golf room, with Ant trying to get everyone across and then falling off himself

"It's in the hips, it's in the hips!" -Cub

"Send me home!" -Scar

"He was too busy hitting us to think about himself!" -TJ

Scar saying he has the glasses ready for when they play RSR

Scar calling Cub the speedrunner and giving him the job of crafting during SB

Jimmy calling Sapnap's win in the last round "actually criminal to watch"

Ant finally getting into the Top 5 players, after being gatekept for so long

Scar saying it's now his time, it's slurpee time! during break, and giving every afk player (including Ant) slurpees under the name of the slurpee bandit

Cub helping Scar in this endeavor by pointing him towards which players are afk

Jimmy scolding Quig and telling him to put his glasses back on

Scar saying they can only speak in W's during PKT, greatly taxing their vocabulary, and the three of them going through the repertoire of chanting "We Will Win Whales!", "We Will Win Wales!", and "When Will We Win?"

"I've mcfallen." -Timmy

The chat calling them the Winning Wazowskis and Marvelous Mikes

"Scott hit me with no hesitation. Joel too, not even a hello!" -Jim

MD coming into the decision dome and Jimmy pointing and saying "There's our boy. There's our boy."

Scar getting the dunk and being directed to dunk Aqua, but dunking the innocent Cyan instead and getting blasted by Jimmy

"This man doesn't know his colors!" -Tim

Ant, Gumi, and Cub peacefully crossteaming for a few seconds in RSR before the platform is destroyed along with their friendship

Scar attributing his top 4 RSR performance to his glasses and the fact he was daydreaming about Disneyland

"I've actually only played BuildMart once. And I made a catastrophic mistake that haunts me to this day." -Scar

"...maybe should've mentioned that earlier bud." -Tim

"What are the snowballs in TGTTOS for?" -Jimmy

"Uh...griefing." -Ant

Cub watching Ant toss Tommy into the lava, and Scar watching Wilbur punching Eret and saying "I can't believe I witnessed a murder."

Everyone consistently calling themselves Team Consistent

"I don't think I killed anyone that time around, and I was out for blood!" -Scar

"Why is Phil standing alone in the bathroom right now?" -Cub

Scar saying he doesn't want to play BM without Grian, he wants a sand duo BM

Ant being the ultimate leader in MD

Ant getting an ace against Purple and Tim calling it a "quad freeze!"

"We didn't hold out for consistency, we said put it in the last!" -Timmy

Cub calling them the Meltdown Mikes

Cub saying that if Martyn wins this one he also wins against Covid, so it's two wins

Jimmy having no faith and believing Martyn's going to lose

Scar turning on his lightsaber during DB

"Martyn's heartbeat just went up 15 beats. Mine did too!" -Scar

Jimmy yelling "HE PLAYS THE SIMS!" when Zeuz gets the 1v3 clutch

Scar calling Martyn "the Covid Crusader" when he wins

Lime Llamas finished MCC 23 in 5th place!

#mcc #mcc 23 #antfrost #cubfan135 #goodtimeswithscar #solidaritygaming #birb's mcc recaps #me hearing about this team: on one hand no Illumina and hermits #on the other hand Antfrost and hermits #antfrost was such a good leader and so helpful the whole way through #I'm so proud of their meltdown performance! #manifesting scar and tubbo next mcc pls