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rillils · 3 months

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so um, so maybe i'm addicted to prompt generators. that might be a thing. hm. *screeches into the void*

rating: T wordcount: 1342 tags: fluff, crack, established relationship, bearded Steve because i've got a soft spot for him, general silliness, dorks in love, domestic bliss, aaand that's it i think

If life was fair, and not plotting to give Bucky an inappropriate boner in the middle of a crowded beach, then for once Steve might deign to look like an average guy enjoying a hot summer day with his man, rather than, you know, put to shame the rest of humankind with his luxuriant, marble-carved, sexy lumberjack league, mouth-watering presence.

But nope.

He walks out of the ocean with seafoam lapping longingly at his ankles, looking for all the world like Aphrodite and Magic Mike had hot writhing sex right there on the shore, without ever getting a single grain of sand in any uncomfortable places, and nine months later he happened, with his thick thighs and his tapered waist, and droplets of saltwater gliding down the slick planes of his torso like liquid diamonds. Which Bucky will abstain from licking off Steve’s skin, not because he’s feeling especially strong today, no – just so they don’t end up charged with public indecency. Again.

Steve’s face, though, as he splashes eagerly towards him, is the face of a kid who just spent the better part of an hour frolicking about in the water, flushed and animated, ecstatic, and bearing the promise of one hell of a nap sometime in the near future.

He seizes Bucky by the waist with his big wet paws, and presses a victorious kiss to Bucky’s mouth, nearly causing him to drop his ice cream bar – yes, the one Bucky bought just so he’d have an excuse to step back and enjoy the newly familiar sight of Steve Rogers having the time of his life, in the most joyful, delightfully mundane of ways.

He should get to be this carefree every day. Bucky feels very strongly about that.

“Come back in, honey, come on,” Steve cajoles, wearing the biggest, goofiest grin Bucky’s seen on him since the day he caught this very man hurtling down their driveway on a hoverboard at breakneck speed. It would have taken some pretty heavy divine intervention for him not to go crashing straight into the trashcans – and God must have thought it wasn’t worth the hassle, if the big oaf was just going to pick himself up and try again anyways.

“In a minute,” Bucky promises him. Because, while there might be a universe out there where he’s actually capable of denying this guy something he wants, it’s definitely not this one.

“Come on, the water’s great!” Steve presses on, his meaty hands squeezing gently at Bucky’s waist, deliciously cool against Bucky’s sun-warm skin. He’s like a big puppy begging for another treat, buzzing with energy, glowing with it from the apples of his flushed cheeks to the sparkling blue of his eyes. He is, for lack of a better word, fucking. precious.

Bucky slides his free hand up Steve’s chest, metal fingers stroking appreciatively over the dark whorls of his chest-hair. It’s ridiculous, how quickly he’s ready to give in.

“At least let me finish my ice cream, first,” he says, waving the thing under Steve’s nose. He could swear Steve’s ears perk up, like he’s only just noticed the stick in Bucky’s hand.

“Oh,” he says, and it’s a pleased kind of oh. “Can I have some?”

“’course. Here.”

Rather than passing the ice cream over to him, Bucky just lifts it to Steve’s lips, inviting him to take a bite.

Eyes crinkled with some secret pleasure, Steve leans in. The thin chocolate shell breaks with a crisp, satisfying crunch under his teeth, the creamy vanilla filling kissing his bottom lip and lingering there, helpless, until Steve collects it with a slow sweep of his tongue, never one to leave someone behind. The soft mmh he releases goes straight to Bucky’s gut, warming him from deep within.

He smiles, like he’s been trying to hold back and he just can’t help himself anymore. “Is it good?”

Steve gives him the Look – the one he gets in his eyes sometimes, when the toe-curling intensity of his gaze tells Bucky that he’s thinking about them – them in their bedroom, stumbling their way through the door with groping hands and tangled legs, laugh slipping into moan slipping back around into laugh, or on the kitchen counter, making the cabinets shake and the bag of sugar spill everywhere, or in the broom closet, caught by a mid-morning frenzy like they were last Saturday, quick and frantic and muffling each other’s moans, as if somebody might have walked in on them any second. And they’re in public, so Steve can’t do anything about it; but Bucky can tell he’s filing away all the words he wants to say and saving them for later, when he can lavish them straight onto Bucky’s sweat-slick skin.

“’S nice,” Steve rumbles, gaze dropping to Bucky’s lips for a long, deliberate moment. “But I know something better.”

A sweet shiver rolls down Bucky’s spine. “Do you, now.” He palms the side Steve’s neck, thumb circling over the delicate skin behind his earlobe, and pulls Steve to him, meeting him halfway into the kiss. Steve’s lips part gloriously for him, the hot caress of his tongue slipping the taste of chocolate and vanilla into Bucky’s welcoming mouth, spiked by a thrilling hint of salt.

A few drops of saltwater drip from Steve’s beard to land on Bucky’s bare chest, and from there trickle down his stomach, skirting his navel to soak into the waistband of his swim trunks, following a path Steve himself has traced with the tip of his tongue many a time.

Only too soon, Steve nudges his chin into Bucky’s own, pulling away, and Bucky chases his lips for one last peck before he lets go.

Steve looks back at him, eyelashes fanning darkly, thick with moisture. His eyes come alive with his smile, gleaming with the pure, blinding joy behind it. Openly adoring, they are, in a way Bucky couldn’t perceive any more clearly if Steve were spelling it out for him. He thinks Steve knows (how deeply, desperately) he feels the same way. He thinks he should tell Steve more often, just in case.

“You gonna join me, then?” Steve asks, all sun-kissed freckles and hopeful eyes, hands giving Bucky’s hips a playful little wiggle. Silly man. Bucky would reach up and pluck the sun out of the sky for him, if he only asked.

Bucky grins, and hopes it doesn’t scandalize any onlookers, with how obscenely fond it must be. “What about my ice cream, though?”

The curl of Steve’s mouth turns unexpectedly mischievous.

“Just hold it out of the water,” he says, and with no further ado, he swoops in to hook one arm behind Bucky’s knees and hoists him up, startling an undignified squeal out of him.

“What–! ”

Steve beams down at him, an almost manic glint in his eye. “Let’s go!”

And with the enthusiasm of an excited golden retriever, he goes bounding towards the glittering waves, kicking up wet sand behind them. Bucky grabs onto his broad shoulders, partly just to feel the firm muscle there, and partly out of a last-minute sense of self-preservation.

“Steve!” He calls out, laughter ripped out of his chest, sudden and shocking, as they splash a bunch of shrieking children on their path. “Put me down, you punk-ass manchild–”

“Nope,” says Steve, relenting only once the water’s reaching up to their chests. There, he stops, swaying gently with the tide, and shifts Bucky in his arms until he’s got Bucky’s legs wrapped around his middle, gathering him close. “I’m your ride for the day.”

And how could Bucky ever object to that? The ocean dances sweet and placid around them, warm under the midday sun, and the man he loves wants him here, tucked in the circle of his arms.

“Fine,” he says, pressing the word to Steve’s lips with a slow kiss. Fine, have it your way.

His last coherent thought, before Steve licks expertly into his mouth, is that they might not escape the public indecency allegations today, after all.

#stucky #stevebucky #rillers scribbles #why yes i do think my writing gets progressively dumber xD #can't help it #the braincell loves these boys #the braincell is trying its best #the braincell is probably going to take a break for the next 2837445098 years given my history #just wanted to exploit it a little bit before that happens

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queenofthequillandink · 1 year

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I posted 3,107 times in 2022

That's 306 more posts than 2021!

19 posts created (1%)

3,088 posts reblogged (99%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@canatrix

@punsbulletsandpointythings

@trainwreckgenerator

@transthaumaturge

@marvelous-goose

I tagged 2,876 of my posts in 2022

Only 7% of my posts had no tags

#rad art - 184 posts

#batman - 134 posts

#trashcan (affectionate) - 130 posts

#danny phantom - 129 posts

#tiktoks - 105 posts

#dc comics - 94 posts

#for partner - 92 posts

#asdfghjkl - 88 posts

#amazing - 84 posts

#tumblr biome - 64 posts

Longest Tag: 133 characters

#not me turning on bittersweet symphony to experience whatever the fuck emotion you experience when you listen to bittersweet symphony

My Top Posts in 2022:

✨get to know me✨

tagged by @listen-to-the-inner-walrus, thank you darling. <3

last song: The last song I listened to period was something new Big Band-y that my partner had playing, but the last song I listened to on PURPOSE was The Highwayman by Loreena McKennitt.

last show/currently watching: Uhhhhhhhhh great question. I THINK the last thing I watched was Bridgerton, technically? But I binge things and then forget about them halfway through, so. Could have been something else.

currently reading: Mostly fanfic because my brain is fried lol, but I’m somewhere in the middle of Mortal Arts by Anna Lee Huber. I should honestly restart it.

current obsession: Danny Phantom and Batman, plus dp x dc crossovers. Would probably be more invested in sewing/cross stitch if I had more energy.

I’m tagging @transthaumaturge, @sunsetcurvecuddles, @a-tomb-with-a-view, @bibogbanshee, @dyoniisus

12 notes - Posted September 26, 2022

ok, no, i think my favorite thing about the magical misfits is that you can’t safely piss off any single one of them. like these motherfuckers took “you mess with the goat, you get the horns” to a whole new level.

even setting aside the fact that if you mess with one of them, you mess with all of them, who are you gonna piss off?

evan? the dude literally chock full of demons who’s packing at least three improvised weapons at any time and knows exactly where to hit you?

k? the wizard who can summon literal hordes of rats and birds to tear you to shreds while verbally eviscerating your entire life from behind one of the strongest shields you’ve seen on a school-aged kid?

sam? the girl who could probably blink and know each and every one of your insecurities ON TOP OF WHICH she’ll tilt her head and make you feel bad for attacking her in the first place?

whitney “mcrib” jammer? jammer, the guy who acts as personal coach to all of chimeron, who could absolutely body your ass wand or no, who’s probably halfway to stealing your entire squad and getting them on his team as we speak?

not to mention that even sam, who refuses to run, is in physically better shape than most of the school and all four of them could absolutely rock your world even without a wand. so go on.

fuck around and find out.

25 notes - Posted January 19, 2022

Team Phantom continues to vibe. Danny pretends he is not going to be the Ghost King, even while handing out political titles to his best friends. So what! They deserve them!

Rating: T (for swearing)

Relationships: Danny/Tucker/Sam

Danny and co are just chilling, but also, Danny is fully prepared to abuse his position of power to give his friends cool titles.

71 notes - Posted April 11, 2022

Manson, Foley, and Fenton were different, junior year. And Casper High doesn't really know what to do with that.

Rating: T (for swearing)

Relationships: Danny/Tucker/Sam

Team Phantom, including Valerie and Wes, centric fic because you know at some point they just got ripped over the summer and no one knew how to react.

100 notes - Posted January 29, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

24-year-old Danny isn't sure what, exactly, is going on when he stumbles on newly-formed halfa Jay in the Ghost Zone. Unfortunately, Jay can't really remember enough to give him any hints. Oh well, who needs to know their past anyway? This is Gotham; no one cares about your past here.

Besides, Jay just got adopted by the weirdest trio of people he's ever met, so he's got more important things to focus on

Well, I did it. I finally fell into crossover hell. Based on this prompt.

@roseinbloom02, since you specifically asked for a tag.

191 notes - Posted September 6, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #fully posting this EXCLUSIVELY for my longest tag #no idea what that's in reference to <3 #about me

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makerkenzie · 2 years

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"He was in my way...any knight would've done the same."

I want to rant a bit about one of those book-to-show changes that made Jaime look like more of a trashcan.

It's his first escape attempt, the one in S2 where he kills his cousin Ser Alton and then kills the Karstark kid who was guarding his pen. (Which one of the Karstark sons was he? I don't remember. It hardly matters.)

Look, folks. Book-version, Jaime certainly did NOT kill his cousin. He wasn't exactly broken up about Ser Cleos Frey's death, but he wasn't the cause of it.

He DID kill two of Rickard Karstark's sons...in battle. Not in escaping captivity.

Thus in show version, Rickard Karstark seems more reasonable for wanting to kill Jaime as vengeance for his son. He doesn't seem any more reasonable when he murders Jaime's younger cousins, so...the change from book version doesn't make the story any more coherent.

Book version, when Jaime says "any knight would've done the same," he is talking about the battle. Book and show both, Catelyn says "How can you call yourself a knight when you've broken every vow you've ever made?" ANd she seems much more reasonable in show version, when they're talking about Jaime strangling his guard rather than killing another soldier in battle.

Why does she need to seem more reasonable? There's no disputing that Catelyn's one of the good guys. Just let her be a hothead.

Book version, there IS a first escape attempt. It involves Tyrion pulling some shady shit. Book version, Jaime kills Poul Pemford and Myles the squire in the first attempt. Do we ever hear about Poul's and Myles's families swearing vengeance against the Lannisters? No, because their families are already at war with the Lannisters and war is plenty hell enough.

Book version, he also kills Lord and Lady Hornwood's son Daryn at the same time as Eddard and Torrhen Karstark. Daryn Hornwood's death is much more devastating to his House than the Karstark boys for theirs, and no one ever suggests that the Hornwoods are owed vengeance against the Lannisters for their losses in battle. Nope, it's all Rickard Karstark acting like the war isn't meeting his expectations.

Show version, Jaime's all on his own with the first attempt, as we wouldn't want to have Tyrion seem less than honorable.

However, show version DOES include the bit in S1 where Jaime, just after his capture, explicitly proposes single combat with Robb to settle the war. That does make Jaime seem more sympathetic and the Starks less so by contrast.

So when he kills his cousin in S2, they're just throwing shit at the wall.

#asoiaf vs. got #whispering wood #jaime lannister #catelyn stark #rickard karstark #war of five kings

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unholyobsessions · 3 years

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Those who get sick together, stay together

Pairing: Julie x Luke

Description: Luke and Julie are best friends and it takes a delirious love confession for them to finally get together

Requested: Yes

A/N: It may seem kind of rushed? not my best work but at the same time i really like it

Warnings: Sickness, throwing up

Word Count: 2.5k

Masterlist

Here’s the thing, when you’ve known someone all your life you get used to doing everything together. Whether it be going to the arcade, the movies, shopping sprees, or vacations, where one goes, the other follows. That is the case with Julie Molina and Luke Patterson.

Growing up as neighbors in a suburban neighborhood of mostly retired couples made them the only kids within a five mile radius (and the winners of every chocolate selling competition the school hosted.) It was impossible to see the two of them apart and they liked it that way. They took the same classes and same extracurriculars, going as far as getting in trouble on purpose if the other had already gotten detention (when they were given a different schedule their freshmen year of high school, they gave a powerpoint presentation to the principle on the reasons they needed to be together… it worked.)

Considering the fact that they were never apart, it really came as no surprise when they both came down with the stomach flu the same weekend. Whenever they’re sick, they normally FaceTime the entire time, neither strong enough to visit and staying away if the other had miraculously not caught the sickness. This time however, Luke’s parents have to go on a business trip that has been scheduled for over a month that they really could not afford to cancel. Rose, ever the angel, immediately offered to have Luke stay over, saying that she is already going to take care of Julie, might as well nurse Luke back to health as well.

So that is why they both find themselves tucked into Julie’s bed with wet rags on their foreheads and grimaces on their faces. They each have their respective trash cans next to them in case they don’t have the time to run to the bathroom before throwing up.

Rose walks into the room with a bowl of ice in her hand but instead of going straight to the bed, she goes to Julie’s windows and pulls open the the purple blinds with butterfly stickers stuck to them. As a result, Luke and Julie let out loud groans and pull the covers over their heads. Rose rolls her eyes and walks over.

“The two of you are so dramatic I swear.” She pulls down the cover and takes both the rags to put them in the bowl.

“Mom,” they say, dragging out the word. A smile pulls at Rose’s lips, as it always does whenever Luke calls her mom. It’s been happening for years really, just as he calls Ray, Dad and Julie calls Mr. and Mrs. Patterson Ma and Pops respectively.

“Don’t mom me. You should be thankful I’m even here taking care of you.” They all know she’s lying. She would move a mountain for them, for anyone really, that’s just how Rose is.

She grabs the packet of pills from her pocket and gets two giving one to each of them. “Put these under your tongue and let them dissolve.” They both obediently do it but shoot up from the bed a few seconds later. Julie makes a run for the bathroom and Luke opts for the trashcan. Rose rushes after Julie, holding her hair back as she retches into the toilet. She faintly hears the sounds of Luke gagging and she lets out a sigh. So much for the pills.

Julie brushes her teeth and goes back to the bed, Luke getting up to rinse his mouth as well. Rose turn on the TV, hoping a couple of Friends reruns will brighten up their mood, and is about to walk out of the room when she hears a crash from the bathroom. She runs in to see Luke standing over a broken glass. He looks up with tears in his eyes.

“I-it fell. I didn’t mean too. I’m sorry.” Rose has to resist the urge to laugh as she grabs his hand and leads him back to the bed. She gets the now cold rags and places them over their foreheads again before turning off the light and going back to the bathroom to clean the mess.

Julie scoots closer to Luke and lays her head on his shoulder. Luke has the urge to push her away because the room feels much too hot for cuddling but when he opens his mouth to tell her to move she looks up at him with the biggest puppy dog eyes he has ever seen. He sighs and ignores the sweat forming under his clothes, pulling Julie closer against him, both drifting off to sleep after a few episodes.

. . .

The next morning they’re no longer running a fever but they do find out the hard way that they still cannot keep any food down. When Rose tries to give them some plain toast, hoping that they will at least get some food in them, they both got up from the bed, this time Luke going to the bathroom and Julie using the trashcan.

With a heavy sigh, Rose phones the doctor, questioning him on what is the best option for two picky teenagers.

He suggests using syrup medicine instead of pills and tells her a pharmacy where she could pick it up in a couple of minutes. She thanks him profusely before hanging up. When she goes back upstairs she sees Julie and Luke both making their way back to the bed after brushing their teeth.

“Hey guys I’m going to pick up some medicine, I’ll be about forty-five minutes. You going to be okay by yourselves?” She calls from the doorway. Julie groans and tucks herself further into the bed. Luke laughs and looks up at Rose.

“We’ll be okay mom. I’m pretty sure Julie is going back to sleep,” he answers with a smile. He still felt terrible but he wasn’t nauseous anymore and he called that a win. She smiled and said goodbye before leaving.

. . .

A few hours later, Rose goes into the room with the medicine in hand. She hadn’t given it to them when she first arrived because they had both fallen asleep. They had been awake for a few hours but the medicine is supposed to make them drowsy so she preferred to give it to them at night.

Julie’s sitting on the bed, brushing through her wet hair and Luke is changing in the bathroom. Rose sits behind Julie and gently takes the hairbrush from her. She finishes untangling her hair and gives it a final dry through with a towel. Luke comes out of the bathroom and smiles sheepishly.

“I threw up again.”

Rose simply holds out her hand and Luke speed walks to the bed. He lays down and cuddles at her side, with Julie leaning back against her chest. She places kisses on both their heads before telling them to sit up so they can take the medicine.

They each take a tablespoon and take a sip of water. Rose tucks them into bed and turns off the lights, wishing them a goodnight and waiting a beat for them to say it back.

A few minutes later, they’re laying side by side, the darkness of the room providing a sense of comfort. The medicine hits Luke harder than it should, and Julie teases him about being a lightweight as he says nothing but nonsense.

“Jules?” Luke’s voice is groggy, as if it’s fading away.

“Yeah Luke?” Julie however is fully awake, the medicine not hitting her yet.

“I love you.”

She blushes, a foolish smile pulling at her lips. “I love you too.”

“No but like, love you love you.” He’s not quite sure what he’s saying. He feels sort of like that time he got his wisdom teeth out.

Her breath hitches. “You’re delirious,” she whispers, wishing for him to take the words back before she can read too much into them.

“Maybe. But that doesn’t mean it’s not true. I’m in love with you Jules, have been for a while.” He says it as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world, but his eyes are drooping and she’s sure he won’t remember this tomorrow.

“Go to sleep Lu.” her heart clenches and she blinks the tears away, blaming the pain in her stomach and not her feelings.

“Okay. Goodnight.” And just like that he’s out like a light. A few tears slip down her cheeks and after a while, the medicine hits her and her eyes flutter shut.

The next morning she waits for him to say something, anything, and when he doesn’t she decides she won’t either. She pretends it never happened and tries her best to act normal but Luke’s not an idiot. He notices quickly that something’s wrong. She stays as far away from him in the bed as possible, flinching if even his arm brushed against hers which is a large contrast to her cuddly behavior the days prior. She would jump whenever he said her name, more specifically when he said, “Jules.”

When Rose greets them, Julie is thankful for the distraction. She keeps looking at her mom, avoiding turning her head when she gives them another dose of medicine. They’re both feeling much better and are able to hold down the toast. Rose thinks they’ll feel good as new by the next day and personally, Julie doesn’t think it can come quick enough. She stays quiet most of the day, only giving Luke short replies and nods of her head whenever he tries to start conversation. Eventually he gives up, not knowing what he did wrong but deciding to give her some time, hoping that she will approach him when she’s ready.

The next day, Luke’s parents arrive to pick him up. Julie hears them speaking to her parents; they ask for her and how she’s doing but Julie pretends to be asleep in order to avoid any conversation. She hears Luke shuffling around the room as he gets his stuff together. She pretends she doesn’t feel Luke’s lingering touch on her shoulder when he says goodbye and she ignores the tears that fall down her face when she hears the door close downstairs.

. . .

Julie and Luke did not fight. They argued but they made up within the span of a few hours, so to say Luke is worried when Julie does not reply to his texts is an understatement. It has been about two hours since he had gone home and he has sent Julie a text every ten minutes.

Julie knows Luke is not stupid and that her not answering him is suspicious but she can’t help it. She ignores every single message and turns off her phone. She keeps it off the rest of the day and tries to not think about him, because even a single thought of him breaks her heart.

The next day she leaves her phone in her room all day and stays in the living room watching Netflix with her mom. She resists the urge to go upstairs to at least read his texts because that would just make the situation worst. Late in the evening when Rose goes to make dinner Julie makes her way to the studio, itching to play the piano after four days of not doing so. She isn’t expecting to see Luke sitting on the couch with his guitar resting on his leg.

He stands up quickly once he hears her come in. They stare at each other for a couple of seconds.

“What are you doing here?” Julie asks.

“I knew it would only be a matter of time before you came in here. Julie we need to talk.” He puts his guitar down and Julie shakes her head.

“We don’t need to talk? Why would we? I’m okay. We’re okay.” Julie averts her gaze, the words falling out of her lips in rapid succession.

“We’re not okay Julie. What did I do?” He asks desperately.

“Nothing. We’re fine,” Julie assures, trying her best to sound convincing.

“Jules,” Julie flinches and Luke’s face falls. “Why haven’t you been answering my texts?”

“My phone’s been off,” she states in a matter of fact but Luke shakes his head. He’s growing frustrated and her lack of explanation is pissing him off.

“Why are you ignoring me?” His voice is loud and hurt causing Julie to break.

“Because you told me you loved me!” The silence that comes after is deafening.

“What- Jules of course I love you. I’ve said it hundreds of times.” He really hopes his nerves aren’t as evident as he thinks they are.

“Yeah, but you said you were in love with me,” Julie whispers. She looks everywhere but at him and continues to speak. “And I know you didn’t mean it and it hurts so much because I do mean it. I’m in love with you Luke. And hearing you say it while you were barely conscious broke me.”

Luke stares at her, mouth hanging open as he struggles to find the right words to say. He walks closer to her, stopping when the tips of his shoes brushed against hers. “Jules look at me please.” She begrudgingly lifts her gaze to him and his heart clenches at the sight of tears forming in her eyes. He reaches a hand up to cup her cheek, gently wiping away the first stray tear with his thumb. “I am so incredibly in love with you.”

“What?” He wishes she didn’t sound as surprised as she does.

“I’m in love with you Julie Molina. I love every single thing about you. The gap between your teeth when you smile. The way your hair never stays the way you want it to but it still looks beautiful. I love your voice, and hearing you play piano. I love how you draw on the edge of your shoes and will stop whatever you are doing to write down a melody, even if we’re in the middle of a test. I love your little jokes and how you laugh so unapologetically loud no matter where you are. I love you so much and god do I hate myself for telling you while I was high off of flu medicine.” Julie was full on crying now and Luke’s own eyes were starting to fill with tears.

Going off instinct, Julie goes up on her tiptoes and presses her lips against Luke’s, cupping the back of his neck to pull him closer. Luke is taken by surprise at first but once his brain starts working again, he reciprocates the kiss. When they pull away they both have similar grins plastered on their faces.

“Are we good?” Luke asks.

Julie nods her head. “More than good.”

Rose smiles when they both come back into the house at dinner time and exchanges a look with her husband when they make their way up the stairs with Luke placing a hand on Julie’s lower back.

. . .

No one is surprised when they walk into school at the end of summer break holding hands, and if they spot a few teacher exchanging twenty dollar bills, they don’t mention it.

#julie molina #luke patterson #Julie and Luke #julie x luke #luke x julie #luke and julie #julie and the phantoms fanfiction #julie and the phantoms fanfic #julie and the phantoms #julie and the himbos #jatp #jatp fanfiction #jatp fanfic #jukebox #palina

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some-dr-writings · 4 years

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SHSL Theatre Actress comes out as aromantic to Mikan, Ibuki and Korekiyo

Mikan Tsumiki: pt.1

· It was a day just like any other. That morning you had invited Mikan to come to rehearsal to watch. Having a massive crush on you she more than eagerly accepted! She also knew how reckless you tended to be with your own safety, she liked being nearby to patch you up quickly.

· It seemed to be a miracle that nothing happened during the practice. Mikan decided to meet you backstage. If nothing happened on stage, then you likely would end up getting injured helping change the spotlights or something. Maybe fall off a ladder or try lifting something and hurt your back. Who knows?

· She rather quickly spotted you actually… With a guy leaning in rather close to you. “Come on, just one date. What’s the big deal?” “The big deal is, NO. I don’t want to go on a date with you!” “What? Think you’re better than me? Am I not your type?” “Yes! I am better than you! I don’t persist when people withdraw their consent!” Oh no. You were fuming. You had absolutely no sense of danger when you were mad. “And YES, you are not my type! I HAVE NO TYPE! SO LEAVE ME ALONE YOU CREEP OR I SWEAR I’LL DESTROY ANY CHANCE YOU BOUGHT WITH MONEY SINCE YOU CERTAINLY DON’T HAVE TALENT OR PASSION, OF MAKING IT ANYWHERE IN THIS INDUSTRY! DO YOU SERIOUSLY THINK YOU’LL GET FAR DISRESPECTING PEOPLE?! THAT’S HOW YOU IMPRESS SOMEONE!? SORRY ASSHOLE THAT’S NOT HOW THE WORLD WORKS! HOW LONG HAVE YOU BEEN AT THIS? A WEEK NOW! AND GUESS WHAT MY ANSWER HAS BEEN EVERY SINGLE TIME YOU ASK! OH, YOU DON’T NEED TO GUESS, I ALREADY TOLD YOU! NO! NEVER! NOW LEAVE ME ALONE!” As you were stomping away the guy grabbed your hand! The guy was about to say something when you headbutted him in the jaw. He likely bit his lip or tongue because he started bleeding. Mikan chased after you as you ran away.

· You just kept running and running. “Y-Y/N!” “Mikan!?” You slowed your paced for a moment, grabbing Mikan’s hand, continuing to run.

· The pair of you hid in Mikan’s dorm room. She sat you down on her bed before scurrying around getting supplies to examine you. Her cheeks were lightly dusted with pink as she held your face getting a close look at the top of your head. “Tsumiki… I-I think I’m fine.” “W-well, you may think so, but many illnesses can be present without making themselves known. The same can be said with injuries… I-I’m sorry am I annoying you!?” “N-no, no! You’re okay! I just don’t want you to waste supplies on me.” “Supplies w-would never be wasted on you! E-even if they don’t help, i-if it’s for you, it’s never a waste!” Her blush only grew as she looked at you with such determined eyes…

· She really cared about you…

· “Y/N w-what’s wrong!? Are you hurting? Why are you crying!?” You tried holding back the sobs as you quickly wiped those tears away. “I-I’m so sorry.” “Sorry? Sorry for what? I don’t need or deserve apologies! Did I do something wrong!?” “N-no, you’re amazing.” You buried your face in your hands, absolutely ashamed of yourself. “E-even if I was interested in romance I would never go out with that guy, but, b-but you…” You forced yourself to take deep breaths. You forced yourself to look at her even in that blur. You forced yourself to… to confess. “But you’re amazing! And I’ve been awful to you! I know you have a crush on me, I knew for a long time! I thought if I didn’t say anything, maybe nothing would change and it’d all be fine, but… I can’t keep doing this to you! I don’t, I can’t ever return your feelings. I love you, but not like how you love me! I’m aromantic. I’m just not attracted to people like that! And I honestly don’t mind, I’m so happy to simply have friends, I don’t need any other type of relationships to feel complete or happy, but, I can’t just keep stringing you along like this! I’m sorry. I’m so sorry Mikan!”

· “Y-Y/N, p-please don’t cry for me!” Tears were already streaking down her cheeks. “I really don’t mind!” “H-huh? What?” “If you’re aromantic, I don’t mind. Just please keep calling me your friend! That’s honestly all I want!” “I-I, no, I don’t want this to get toxic! You’re my best friend! I don’t want to hurt you!” You stood up, pulling her into a hug before burrowing your tear stained face onto her shoulder. Trembling, you hugged her tightly. “I can’t keep hurting you.” Mikan hugged you back, letting you get your emotions out.

· Once you calmed down, she sat you back on her bed. “Y/N, as long as you keep talking to me, I don’t mind. As long as you keep calling me your friend, I honestly can’t care less if you return my feelings. I’ve never had such an amazing friend like you! So please don’t feel guilty!” “… Mikan… I… but you’ve been treated so badly, I don’t want to be another person who does the same to you.” “What are you talking about? You’re the kindest person I’ve ever met! I’m happy the way things are! I don’t need you to love me!” “But I do love you, but just… not romantically. Which is what you have for me!” “I really don’t mind! Even if you weren’t aromantic and you fell in love with and dated someone else, I wouldn’t mind!” “But I never can… maybe that can be some condolence for you?” “I don’t want condolences. Just keep calling me your friend!” “… You… You really are okay with just being friends?” Taking an icepack out of the ice chest beside her, she placed it on your head. “It’s not ‘just being friends’ friendships are just as important as romantic ones, if not more! Having friends can do wonders for your health!” “I… If you’re sure. It’s just… I don’t know, romantic love is everywhere in plays and media so… I know it’s a big deal to others.” “Well, it’s not for me! I love you, and you love me, but in a different way! And that’s okay!” You couldn’t help but smile.

· “A-although, if you don’t want to be friends, that’s fine too! Whatever you want!” “Mikan, no! Dang it, I thought you were gaining confidence!” “I-I’m so sorry!” “Stop it! We’re friends! You don’t annoy me! But please believe in yourself more!”

Ibuki Mioda:

· Your group decided to do a musical and who better than the Super High School Level Light Music Club Member to ask for help about the music!

· It was… an interesting experience. She spoke of how before she could help, she needed to see if you could all perform together. Being more of the shy sort you found Ibuki to be a bit much at first, but through playing her games you rather quickly warmed up to her. You still were a bit quiet around her, but she did more than enough talking for the both of you.

· Performing with her was certainly a lively event. It was also the most fun you ever had performing and that was saying something! You absolutely adored the stage but with Ibuki it was like you entered an entirely new world! One of boundless energy and excitement! One of pure passion and nothing else! The stress of wanting the other performers not mess up seemed to fade away as you just got lost in the music pouring your heart and soul into every last note! It was amazing!

· Though it seems others may have misinterpreted your passion. Specifically, your co-star. He was a nice boy. New to performing, but he certainly had talent and passion. He was a good kid.

· After the performance you ran straight to Ibuki, hopping around still feeling that boundless energy flowing through you. As the two of you were excitedly talking over one another neither of you notice as your co-star approached. Once the two of you finished spinning around and headbanging you finally noticed him. “O-oh, hi.” “Hey, Y/N, uh, could we talk for a moment… alone?” “Sure?” Hesitantly you followed the guy. Once you were alone, he asked you out. “Sorry, but, no thank you.” “Oh, really? I thought we might have had something. You were always so stiff during the kiss scene in practice but tonight you were more relaxed! I, thought that maybe… you started liking me?” “Oh, no, no, no. Sorry, that was just the passion of the performance.” He rather awkwardly walked away.

· As you marched away you overheard some conversations. The usual really. You were stuck up, that’s why you never gave nice guys a chance. You burned fan mail because you were so disgusted by them. The usual really. There’s bound to be poison thrown your way given how runaway popular you were. Besides, it’s not like they were entirely wrong, who were you to refute them.

· You decided to hide in your dressing room to ignore it all. As expected, a large pile of gifts and fan letters sat waiting for you there. After changing out of your costume and removing your makeup you started slowly going through it. It was normally nice, genuine compliments and the like, but sometimes the gifts and letters got… creepy. Those letters in particular, you burned. After emptying the small trashcan, you placed the letter at the bottom, you lit a match readying to drop it in the can.

· As you were doing so you heard that bubbly voice call out your name before opening the door. “Whow, Y/N, what’s with the match? Wait! Ibuki can guess!” The girl quickly skipped over to you, looking into the trash bin. “Oooh, so the rumors of ‘the heart breaker’ are true.” “Ah, so you’ve heard those rumors and nickname.” You limply dropped the match, watching the letter burn. “I don’t get why people can’t take ‘no’ for an answer. I swear, it can’t just be me. There must be people, who even if they are interested in romance, must find this uncomfortable, right?” “Oh, you’re aromantic?” You flinched not expecting to hear that. “… Uh, y-yeah.” You were immediately filled with dread. Being aromantic was not something you tried keeping secret, but you did try to be selective with who you told. “Nice! Ibuki has a fellow, repeat after me! A! RO! MAN! TIC! Aromantic buddy!” “Fellow aromantic buddy? You’re aromantic too?” A big smile creased the rock star’s lips as she eagerly nodded. “Ding! Ding! Ding! Ding! That’s correct!” You let go of the breath you didn’t even realize you were holding.

· “So, what’s with that letter?” “Ah, well… A ‘fan’ I had to file a restraining order against, they stalked me for some time and constantly showered me in very uncomfortable gifts like their baby book and letters of proposal. The proposal letters in particular always make my skin crawl knowing I even touched the unnerving thing. And even with the restraining order they always find some way to get them to me. I’ve tried throwing them away, but they somehow get back to me. The only way to get rid of it is to burn it. I can’t be the only person who finds this creepy! It’s not just because I’m aromantic, right? So many people have told me that I should be nicer since they’re a fan, but… I just can’t. I don’t think it’s okay, but… when so many people tell you you’re wrong, you can’t help but wonder…” “No, you’re right. They’re a total creepo! The girls from my old band would get letters like that and they weren’t aromantic and found them creepy!” “Oh thank goodness, it’s not just me!”

· After that performance your confidence in yourself outside of acting slowly blossomed with Ibuki’s help. It felt amazing to have a friend who was the same as you in that aspect, truly being able to understand your position. Since you two worked so well together on stage she insisted on forming a band with you, and even made outfits for the pair of you with aromantic pride flag colors. Ibuki very quickly became a very dear friend to you.

Korekiyo Shinguji:

· Ah, Valentine’s day, a day you dreaded. It was nice getting chocolate, but many of the girls asking you out was the bad part. Having to reject girls all day was rather tiring, especially so when they insisted on you telling them who you gave your chocolate to. No one. Even when you told them that, none believed you. From some reason not liking anyone romantically was impossible to them and they said you were stuck up or lying.

· As the day loomed ever closer bringing white and pink hues with it, you decided to try to save yourself some grief. Maybe you could tell them you weren’t interested in anyone, but you were gifting your friends chocolates? You hoped this would help. You had to try something, hiding didn’t work last year, somehow, they always found you.

· The morning of Valentine’s day you took a deep breath before leaving your dorm room. Aaand you were already surrounded by girls… This was going to be a long day.

· You managed to find and gift each of your friends a chocolate bar… all except one.

· Kiyo.

· You were having trouble getting the proper inspiration for your role, so you began to do research. In your research you met the anthropologist. He immersed you in the region, it’s traditions, history, everything. When speaking with him you felt you were truly there. From then on, you always went to him for guidance, after all, plays were deeply intertwined with anthropology and you really liked people who were especially passionate about their interests, like him. Even as shy as you were his calm demeanor could ease you and get you out of your shell.

· He was most certainly your friend and you were determined to gift him some chocolate before the day ended! He wasn’t answering his phone, he wasn’t in his lab, if he was in his dorm room, he didn’t answer the door. Where could he be? You spent the majority of the day dashing down hall after hall, hiding from your fans, and searching for your friend.

· You were exhausted seeing that bright sunset. Sighing, you laid down on the snowy ground looking up at that clear sky. “I guess I can just give it to him tomorrow… I mean, today isn’t the only day I can show I love someone… NO!” You abruptly sat up. “He’s done too much for me! I have to find him today!” “Simply beautiful.” “Kiyo!?” The man slowly strode towards you with his hands in his pockets. “Such wonderful determination. And for love no less.” “Finally.” You scrambled to get up, pulling the chocolate bar out of your pocket. “Happy Valentine’s Day!” Kiyo simply stared at you in surprise for a moment before gently taking the chocolate. “I had no idea. I accept your feelings but my heart belongs to another so I can not return them to you in kind.” “Oh! No, no! I’m giving all my friends chocolate today.” “All your friends you say? So, you’re celebrating Philia today instead of Eros. The love of friendships, not passion and romance.” “Yeah! It seems most media and so many people always focus on romance that other relationships are left behind.” “I can see where you’re coming from. There have been countless traditions through out the ages celebrating the pleasure, passion, and lust of the romantic. Eros is so tightly intertwined with reproduction and continuing the species it’s almost instinctual, natural to find it so important. Though… I must wonder if you are thinking this because you have yet to find someone to treasure in that way.” There it was. You sighed, hearing that all too familiar sentiment. “Is something wrong, Y/N? Did I hit too close to home there?” “Well… Yeah. It seems everywhere I look not being in or not wanting to be in a relationship is seen as wrong. Like it’s demonized to not want that. People will say to just lower your standards, or to just wait because you’ll meet the right person SOMEDAY or that if you’re not in a romantic relationship you’ll be completely lonely! Like only romantic love can make a person complete or something! Like you’re some alien for not wanting that! Because clearly something MUST be WRONG with me, right!? Because everyone else wants it! Because friendship isn’t good enough, right!? So if it’s not, then why do people make friends in the first place!? If all people want is romance, then why make friends!? Do people only make friends to turn them into potential partners some day!? Is that what I’ve been missing this whole time!? Do all my relationships, my friends, mean nothing!? SHOULD I want more from my friends!? Is that what’s wrong with me!? Because according to the world I have to want more, so there has to be SOMETHING WRONG WITH ME, RIGHT!? BECAUSE I NEED TO LOVE SOMEONE ROMANTICALLY, TO HAVE A PARTNER, TO HAVE KIDS, TO RAISE A FAMILY BECAUSE THAT’S WHAT ALL THIS IS ABOUT, RIGHT!? BECAUSE I’M BROKEN RIGHT!? I’M BROKEN FOR NOT WANTING THIS! I’M SOME FREAK-SHOW PEOPLE THINK IS SOME EMOTIONLESS HUSK! BECAUSE I CAN’T LOVE, RIGHT!?”

· And you laughed. Hugging yourself, through broken sobs you kept laughing. That chopped up hyperventilating turned warped drowning laughter. You didn’t know why, but you just couldn’t stop laughing. Maybe it was all the stresses of the day had taken it’s toll on you. Maybe you were scared that Kiyo, a person who you knew had a reverent respect for romantic love would tell you, you were wrong like so many others had. Maybe… maybe you were just exhausted from having ran around all day.

· “s-sorry kiyo…” You tried wiping the tears from your eyes but they just kept flooding out. “i-i’m not ma-mad at you, i-i swear…” You buried you face into your hands wanting to disappear. You wished Korekiyo would just walk away and pretend he didn’t see your outburst. You hated yourself for yelling at him. It wasn’t his or anyone else’s fault. You were just so sick and tired of romance being shoved down your throat, for others acting like it was some necessity that you were missing to be a complete person. You hated it all so much. You knew you weren’t wrong, that you were okay the way you were, but… having that constant pressure on you always made holding on to the truth difficult at times… It just hurt. You merely melted in the gentle suffocating warmth that surrounded you.

· “… If you want romantic love, yet don’t want it in the moment, you are valid. If you don’t want romance at all or ever, that is valid too. And friendships do not merely exist to morph them into partnerships. Aristotle spoke much on the subject. He spoke of how there are different kinds of friendship just as there are different kinds of love. Friendships are necessary to get a better view of the world, even if one had the whole world in the palm of their hand, it would mean nothing without friends, companionship. You are valid, Y/N.” He hugged you tighter, trying to show he was there for you.

· He let you go, letting you take a step back. Taking one last deep breath those tears finally stopped flowing. “s-sorry.” “Hmm? Care to elaborate? I see no reason for you to do so.” “I-I… I’m aromantic, and… your comment just really got to me.” “Then, I believe I should be apologizing. I didn’t realize those words would hurt you so.” “E-exactly, you didn’t know.” “Yet, they still hurt. Just because I knew not the damage they’d bring dose not numb the pain any less.” “… yeah.”

· To your confusion he turned around… He was changing masks? He only ever turned around like this when doing so. When he turned back to face you the chocolate bar was partly unwrapped. “I accept and return your love, Y/N.” “Thank you.” Cheerily he snapped a piece off and popped it into his mouth… somehow. You still had no idea how he ate or drank with those things on. “So, shall we go to my lab for the evening? We have much research to do.” “Hmm? I’m not starting any new plays, Kiyo.” “No, not for that. To search for examples of aromantic orientation through history. Very few examples spring to mind on the subject and I’d like your help remedying that.” “Kiyo.” You couldn’t bring yourself to speak for a moment. You just… took in how overwhelmingly happy and relieved you felt. “Yeah, I’d love to help you. Let’s go.”

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crowsvalentine · 4 years

Note

Please please please more single parent kanej au. Can we have like they were stuck volunteering on a trip or at a bake sale sort of fic/hc

A hundred cupcakes

A hundred purple cupcakes that Inej had no idea how to bake or ice for a bake sale to raise money for a club her son would never want to be a part of

“Nina I swear I’m going to kill you one day,” she said into the phone as she mixed her latest batch

It would be her fifth, hopefully the first to actually end up in the oven to bake

Nina just laughed at her, probably enjoying the fact that she offered to bring cutlery and cups so she wouldn’t be in Inej’s position

“Look on the bright side, Jesper Fahey volunteered himself to sell raffle tickets”

“And why is that something I should be looking forward to?”

She could almost hear the smirk through the phone

“Because so did Kaz-”

There was a splash when her phone hit the bowl

And Inej cursed at the splatters of batter all over herself

Zayan laughed from where he sat at the kitchen table and Inej just glared at him as she flicked some batter his way

“Inej you still there?” The bowl asked a minute later

When Inej finished setting up her section of the table and sighed happily to herself

Sleeping at 5am paid off, now she just hoped people actually bought them

“Those look good.”

The voice made her jump, and Kaz let out a breath that sounded vaguely like he was laughing at her

“Didn’t take you for a school fundraiser type,” she didn’t turn as she spoke, just continued to straighten already straight trays and pick at invisible bits on her table

Last time she saw him they’d been at the birthday party

Zayan and Diedrick sitting on the hood of her car, explaining themselves for their fight

Kaz had called it justified

Inej had called it uncontrollable anger

He’d simply just lifted his son and walked off to his own car, barely offering a decent apology for his son’s behaviour before he drove off

Now there he stood, still not apologizing, probably making fun of her wonky cupcakes

“I usually just write a check but Jesper convinced me to actually participate this time.”

She finally looked over her shoulder at him, moved her eyes up and down him for a second

And then scoffed

“The amount you spent on that outfit probably cost more than double what the school is going to make today, you should have just written the check.”

And then she turned back to her table

Until there was a tap on her shoulder and when she turned she was ready to tell him to fuck off

But it wasn’t him

He’d disappeared, and in his place was a smiling Nina Zenik

“Matthias told me what happened at the birthday party since you failed inform me, glad to see you two are still on speaking terms”

“His kid kicked my kid’s ass and didn’t apologize for it, we’re not on any terms right now”

Nina just hummed

And winked

And Inej rolled her eyes when she walked off

She tried ignoring him the rest of the afternoon

But of course the raffle table was directly across from her cupcakes

She found herself looking at him whenever she let her eyes wander

Always finding him again and again

At one point she even found herself mirroring his smile, something she’d only seen once since that first day

He was talking an old woman into buying an entire roll of tickets, and it seemed to be working

No wonder the man was rich, it seemed he could convince anyone of anything

Her on the other hand?

In the three hours she’d been standing there she’d only sold nine cupcakes

Well, ten, but she didn’t could that one because the man who bought it spit it out into a napkin and put it back on her table as if she wouldn’t notice

It was the fourth hour that Kaz finally walked off with just a nod to Jesper

Inej guessed his tolerance for real community work ran low and needed a break

But she didn’t dwell on the thought

Because a minute later a family arrived and made a beeline for her table

And to Inej’s surprise, they bought two cupcakes each

And then another family did the same

Then an elderly couple bought a dozen

And for the rest of the fundraiser that’s how it went

Before the day was over Inej was confused when her table was empty except for one last sad looking purple cupcake

“Successful day?”

Kaz now stood across from her

A smile on his face, different than before, but still a smile

She could only nod, still in too much shock

“I’d like to purchase a cupcake,” he said, holding out a crisp twenty dollar bill, just like the one every other person that day had been paying with

She smirked as she took the money and tried not to laugh as he raised the cupcake that she handed him before biting into it

Inej couldn’t contain her amusement when his eyes widened

“That bad?”

“No, uhm, it’s-”

“You can spit it out, I don’t mind”

He did, right into the trashcan next to them

“I hope your cooking isn’t that bad, Zayan doesn’t deserve this torture, he’s too good of a kid”

She finally laughed then as she nodded

He was funny too

Good looking and funny, no wonder Nina was pushing so hard

Too bad he was still pretentiously rich

“You didn’t have to pay all those people to buy my cupcakes you know” she finally said, “you could have just given all the extra change to the school instead of paying them all”

“I wrote this place a check already. Paying all of those people was more for you than for the school”

She stared at him

But he didn’t explain further

Just tossed the remainder of his cupcake into the trash before turning on his heel

“Just accept the apology, Ghafa, your friend Nina would be happy if you told her we were back on good terms,” he said before walking off

Inej could only sigh

Because he was right

#i write for soc #kanej #kaz brekker #inej ghafa #six of crows #crooked kingdom

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bluesey-182 · 5 years

Text

Chapter 2 of my Jurdan AU!!!!

Statistics was going to be the death of Jude. She had been doing her homework for stats for over two hours and was still no closer to understanding a single goddamn thing she was doing. Her nerves were frayed almost to their ends and she knew without looking that she looked like a crazy woman with bloodshot eyes and hair knotted from raking her hands through it every ten seconds. She needed a break. She needed a lighter to set the homework on fire.

She needed to set the college on fire.

Before she could further contemplate the destruction of her school, a load crash came from the apartment’s kitchen, promptly followed by the sound of shattering glass and Taryn muttering, “Buttercup!”

That was as good an excuse as any to take a break. Jude padded through the hallway to the kitchen to see Taryn towering over the remnants of a bowl and an orange cat looking sickeningly satisfied with itself.

“Cat knock a dish off the counter again?” Jude asked as she navigated through the broken glass to the fridge to get some juice.

Taryn sighed. “Yeah.”

Where Jude was loud and competitive, her twin Taryn did everything quietly. She spoke quietly, moved quietly, even as she scolded the cat her voice was lower than Jude would have used on the infernal creature. Still, it was Taryn’s cat so Jude had no room to tell her how to discipline it.

“Jude?”

“What?”

“There’s this party tonight,” Taryn said as she began sweeping the broken glass into the tray. “And this guy I like is going to be there…”

A moan of annoyance escaped from behind Jude’s lips before she could stop herself. “Taryn–”

“Please come with me,” her sister begged.

Jude glowered down at her from where she had perched herself on the counter with the juice container. “I have homework.”

“Yes, and I’ve heard you swearing to yourself about it for the last two hours. You want a break and you know it.”

“Can’t Vivi go with you?” Jude asked, even though she already knew she was going to say yes. It was nearly impossible to deny her twin anything she asked for. Still, Jude couldn’t help trying to pawn the party off to their older sister.

“Vivi,” Taryn began as she dumped the swept up bits into the trashcan under the sink, “has a date tonight with her new girlfriend.”

Jude didn’t know Vivi had a new girlfriend. She felt a small spark of irritation that her older sister hadn’t told her build in her chest before she quickly tamped it down. Taryn was looking at Jude with those big doe eyes and Jude made a show of taking a deep breath and hopping off the counter to throw away the now empty juice container. She dragged it out by pretending to care enough about her hair to fix it, and straightening out her shirt, and scratching at an invisible stain on her pants. Taryn saw through it and pleaded, “Juuuuuude.”

“Fine, I’ll go.” Taryn actually started to jump up and down and clap like a child. Jude rolled her eyes in mock irritation. “But you owe me.”

“Okay sure whatever,” Taryn called over her shoulder as she darted to her room to likely change for the party.

Jude stayed where she was in the kitchen and massaged her temples. She hated parties almost as much as she hated statistics homework. However, after weighing the two against each other for just a second she decided she did, in fact, hate statistics more.

It was going to be a long night.

—-

Taryn was prattling on about some new spring line for some new designer (she was majoring in design) as they pulled up to the mansion. Valerian was infamous for being one of the richest and most asshole-ish frat boys at their college, and even more infamous for getting the cops called on almost all of his parties. He also happened to be the host of tonight’s party, much to Jude’s irritation. It seemed alcohol would be essential to make it through the night without fighting one of the douche bags that made up Valerian’s click. Luckily, Taryn was designated driver.

Jude hopped down from their shared Jeep and came around the back of it, scowling at the chipped paint from the other day’s accident. At the drivers side, Taryn finally clambered down a little less than gracefully in her flowing sundress and heels. In contrast, Jude was wearing jeans with holes worn through them and a beat up pair of sneakers. She tried not to feel underdressed as she walked up the driveway with her sister. Afterall, she was the one that refused to let Taryn help her get dolled up for the party.

A long night, indeed, she thought to herself as they climbed the steps of the front porch.

The door was hanging open and already the house was packed. Music played somewhere but was drowned out by all the voices. Really, with as loud as the music was, it was almost impressive that the crowd managed to be louder. Already Jude could feel a headache starting to pound behind her eyes and she wished she had taken some Ibuprofen before they left the apartment.

Taryn made some sort of high pitched, animalistic noise as she spotted someone in the crowd she knew and waved emphatically at them. After a quick one sided conversation on Taryn’s part (“Are you cool if I go say hi?” “I’ll catch up to you later!” “Will you be okay?” “Love you!”) Jude was left standing on the threshold of the party by herself, thusly abandoned by the one person she knew at the party. The same person who had insisted on bringing Jude along in the first place. Already she was miserable.

There had to be a kitchen here somewhere. Jude had forgotten to eat and she needed something to drink, but with every turn through the ground floor she found nothing but people, people, and even more people. She was jostled from every direction, voices shouted by her ears until they were ringing, one room had a strobe light going and she quickly retreated away from the flashing lights.

“Remind me again why I came here?” She mumbled under her breath to an absent Taryn while she cursed her sister’s existence. Her twin definitely owed her.

It was while Jude was thinking of ways to have her sister pay her back that she finally found the kitchen–quite by accident. She had been trying to squeeze past a group of people in the hall when someone bumped into her and she tumbled through a swinging door into a room that was–well, not empty, but surprising unpacked compared to the rest of the house. She saw Valerian in all his douche-bag glory standing by the counter with a red-headed boy leaning against the refrigerator and a girl with dyed blue hair lounging on the counter top. As soon as Jude entered the room they all turned to look at her and Jude couldn’t help but feel like the red-head was smiling at her like he knew her.

“Is that–?” Valerian started.

“No,” the red-head quickly cut off. “No, it is not.”

“But–”

“Shut up, Val.”

The girl on the counter cut the boys off and demanded, rudely, “What do you want, little girl?”

For the life of her Jude couldn’t figure out why the girl was calling Jude a “little girl” when they couldn’t be more than a year apart. A quick glance at the girls legs stretching out for miles suggested that the comment had been a short joke. Fantastic. Jude’s cheeks began to heat.

“Where’s the alcohol?” She asked, glad that her voice didn’t crack.

With an impatient wave of his hand Valerian indicated a doorway next to the fridge that led into the dining room. As the three of them continued on with whatever conversation they had been having when Jude walked in–the one with the red hair still watching her with his mouth quirked ever so slightly–Jude ducked into the dining room to find the massive table covered with bottles of various hard liquors.

The voices died down as the door swung shut behind her and she took a grateful breath of air. Strange as it was that the room with the alcohol was the only room empty in the whole place, Jude was grateful for the small pocket of space and quiet.

She poured herself a drink–some monstrosity of flavored vodka and juice she found in a cooler under the table. After a taste test she cringed away from bite of the alcohol but decided getting buzzed on the vile thing would be better than being sober tonight. She turned to leave just as the door opened and omitted a boy still laughing over his shoulder at the group in the kitchen. Before Jude could pull back, the two of them collided in a tangle of limbs and solo cups and her face smacking into someone’s chest.

She jerked back. “I’m so sorr–,” She began at the same time the person said, “Shiiiiit,” in the long, drawn out way one does when they’ve been drinking.

Jude finally looked at the guy’s face.

And her stomach fell.

The boy from the car accident from days previous smiled down at her with his lazy, arrogant grin.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Jude said.

“Jude, was it?” He asked teasingly. “Looks like your walking skills are as bad as you claim my driving skills to be.”

She continued to glare at him as he pulled his wet shirt away from his skin and she refused to feel bad about the giant red stain of her drink dripping off his shirt. “Since you ran into me this time,” he said as he tilted his head to smile down at her again, “I’d say we’re even?”

Jude felt her grip on the now empty solo cup in her hand tighten enough to start crushing the plastic as she considered upending the nearest bottle onto his head.

“You’re a dick,” she growled through her teeth.

“Actually, I’m Cardan. Not that you bothered to ask the other day.”

“It’s because I don’t care.”

His hand came up to his chest in an imitation of being stung by her words. “I’m deeply wounded that someone as bitter and unfriendly as you could possibly not care about me!”

Loathe though she was to admit it, she had nothing to bite back at him. Mostly due to the fact that her rage had left her speechless. So instead of saying anything else, she shoved passed him into the kitchen, but the asshat followed her through.

“Aren’t you going to say sorry?” He asked as the three people in the kitchen caught sight of his destroyed shirt and began to laugh at him.

“Cardan what the fuck happened to you?” The red-headed boy asked around his laughter.

Cardan didn’t even take his eyes off Jude as he shot back, “Shut up, Locke, or I’ll take the shirt off and smother you with it.”

“Oh, promise?” The red-head (Locke, apparently) teased back. But Cardan still wasn’t paying any attention to him. Without taking his piercing gaze off Jude, he took a measured step closer to where she stood by the kitchen door.

His voice was low, meant only for her, as he asked. “Well? Are you going to apologize?”

Jude narrowed her eyes at him and, instead of stepping back like he was probably hoping she would, she stepped closer so their chests were almost touching. “Fuck you.”

She stormed out of the kitchen to the sound of uproarious laughter from the rest of the group in the kitchen, not bothering to look back at Cardan.

#yeeeeeee im so happy with how this whole fic is going so far #the cruel prince #the wicked king #the folk of the air #jude x cardan #my writing #text post #okay to reblog #jurdan au #jurdan

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quinoaquinao3 · 4 years

Text

Unknowable (1/11) - dark!Crowley fic

"Oh, angel," he purred dreamily, "too good, too good for me," and Aziraphale wondered briefly whether he should be worried by how quickly Crowley got lost in this again, how easily his hesitance and caution melted away, how quickly he forgot to worry about doing the wrong thing. But Aziraphale didn't want to think about that right now, he didn't want to be smart and responsible and to play it safe. He wanted to indulge - to bathe in Crowley's praise and adoration, so intense it could only stem from something dark and dangerous, an unhealthy obsession. But God, it felt so good if he let it.

Mind the warnings in the tags, please :) Human AU with a dark-ish Crowley and endless angst.

Chapter 1: You Can't Control What Crosses Your Mind

Spring, 1994

Anathema met Crowley when they were both children. Crowley had just moved into the neighborhood, taking up residence in what Crowley called a house but Anathema thought was a castle - turns out, as she learned many years later, castles can be houses if you're filthy fucking rich.

Naturally, Crowley's family also owned lots of beautiful, white horses, and that's how it all started - with "the horse incident".

Anathema could hear the animal's cries from where she was playing at a river nearby, and without thinking started to run as fast as she could towards the source of distress. She was out of breath when she made it to the top of the hill, bending forward to rest her hands on her knees and take a few deep breaths as she scanned the field before her. Then she saw it - a beautiful, snow-white horse lying on the ground, tied to a post with a rope. There were angry red marks running across their body, visible even from where she was standing. The horse was attempting to stand up, struggling pathetically.

Anathema noticed two figures a few feet away - an older woman was holding a boy with dark red hair - who was holding a whip. As Anathema began to run closer, she noticed that the woman's face was stained with tears, but the boy's eyes were dry. The woman let go of the boy suddenly, pushing away at him halfheartedly, and when he fell back to the ground she walked quickly to the injured horse. Anathema hurried over to the boy. As she offered her hand and helped him up, she noticed small blood splats over his clothes and hands.

When Anathema's mother came looking for her more than an hour later, the two kids were playing in a tall field of wheat. Her mom promptly dragged her away from the still blood-covered boy, and when they got home, she sat her down and told her to never go near him again. Your father saw it, she said, he beat that horse, nearly killed the poor thing.

As soon as Anathema finished her cereal the next morning though, she ran over to where she last saw the boy, and found him not far off. "I'm gonna follow you forever and make sure you never hurt another horse!" Anathema screamed at him then, and proceeded to do just that.

She followed him around the entire day. Crowley rarely spoke and was just so strange, Anathema thought, not at all like her other friends, but there were so many fun things to do in the castle Crowley lived in that Anathema soon forgot all about it. And maybe her dad was wrong, anyway. She was old enough now to know parents weren't always right about everything.

. . .

More than twenty years later, Anathema was still by his side. Crowley never hurt another horse again - at least as far as she knew - but he was still... him. He was still that same boy, with that sometimes unnervingly empty look in his eye that seemed to come to life at the wrong time and in all the wrong ways.

Despite all that, Crowley did seem to genuinely care about Anathema, and even went so far as to tell her he loved her a few times. She took those confessions with a grain of salt and didn't particularly enjoy hearing them in the first place - she'd learned that love meant something very different for Crowley, and wasn't sure she wanted to be on the receiving end of it. But he wanted to "be good" - he told her so often and meant it, as far as she could tell. He also trusted Anathema to teach him what that meant. And she tried, for years and years, keeping Crowley close - because he was her friend, her best friend really, but more importantly... he was her responsibility. If Crowley ever... if anything ever happened to someone, Anathema would blame herself.

So this was her life. Probably forever. Because although he did seem to be improving, even managing to feel something good every now and then, Anathema could never really be sure. She could never really know. Maybe he was just getting better at what Crowley used to call 'the performance' - swearing he only ever did it for other people, not her. Indeed, Crowley didn't pretend, not with her. Oh, no. She got to have the absolute mis-fucking-fortune of knowing him.

Fall 2002

"Always tell me the truth, always always always," Anathema told him many years ago after finding a girl Crowley had sworn he had no interest in, passed out from drinking and locked in Crowley's dorm closet. "You said you didn't want to hurt her. Now tell me the truth, all of it."

And Crowley did as he was told - told her the truth, all of it, uncensored, with none of the usual sugar-coating. Anathema watched him as he spoke, Crowley's face as neutral and dead-looking as ever as he described... unspeakable things, awful things, and Anathema was kneeling in front of a trash can, emptying her stomach before Crowley even got to the juicy parts.

"You said the truth," Crowley said from behind her, defensively. "And I wasn't going to do any of those things."

Anathema stared at her half-digested lunch in the trashcan. She didn't want to turn around, couldn't face him, not yet. "I know," she said. Lied. Because she didn't know, not at all.

How could she possibly trust this man wouldn't do the things he'd described when he was capable of thinking them in the first place? A normal, healthy person wasn't capable of coming up with that sort of shit and- and... fuck, Anathema cursed under her breath - she couldn't let Crowley see her right now or he'd know, he'd know she was thinking those hurtful things about him. Though the fact that she just vomited merely from hearing his unfiltered thoughts might have tipped him off.

(Every now and then, Anathema swore she could sense the dark energy radiating from him, sinister and malevolent and unpredictable, and then she'd hear those... godawful screams of the white and red horse in her head and remember the blood-stained hands on that little boy, and it would all just be... too much, just too much for such a young girl to bear all on her own, and she'd be unable to stop the frustration and fear and hatred and disgust that she sometimes felt for her best friend from overpowering her love for him and becoming visible on her face. And in those moments she just went by instinct, curling her lips in disgust at him, slamming her fists against his chest, hurling objects in his direction, screaming hateful accusations at him or doing any number of things she later regretted but dammit, she just wanted to hurt the- the vile thing in front of her sometimes. Not the way he wanted to hurt others, of course - her need felt... righteous, like something she had to do, like it was good. Like pouring holy water on a demon or cutting a poisonous serpent's head off with the sharp edge of a shovel. And when she succeeded in hurting him, when her cruel words managed to shake up his shell of a soul enough for him to feel it, it would be only moments before she was apologizing and telling him she didn't mean any of it, 'but at least it made you feel something, right, this is good, it's a good thing, Crowley' and he'd nod and she'd be forgiven, and they would both try their best to do better until one of them failed again and the cycle repeated.)

Her thoughts were interrupted by a light touch on her shoulder then and she jerked violently, jumping forward and away from the touch, spilling the contents of the trashcan as she scrambled over it before turned around. Now facing Crowley, she saw something that - perhaps - looked vaguely like hurt on his face. It was too strange, too Crowley for it to be his 'performance' - he could do better than that. He seemed to recognize her reluctance.

"Sorry, sorry, it's fine, I'm fine," she said, trying her best to hide the fear and anger and revulsion she still felt throbbing in her chest. Crowley looked unconvinced.

"You're a bad liar," he told Anathema, who held his gaze.

"Yeah... You aren't though, are you?" she returned unkindly, more of a statement than a question, and Crowley was the first to look away.

"I don't lie to you," Crowley said quietly at his feet, keeping his body limp and slow as he shuffled slightly back and away from her, trying to appear harmless - just the way Anathema had taught him throughout the years. (1. "could you not freaking loom, Crowley?", 2. "stop staring at me like that", 3. "fuck, don't- don't touch me, you-!", 4. "don't raise your voice like that, it scares people".)

Ah shit, thought Anathema, he saw it. He's gonna crawl back into his shell and send out some... hologram, and play a recording of some emotion he saw somewhere, on someone else. She finally got up from the floor, standing to face him.

"Right," she sighed as she cleaned some of the sick off her shirt and pants. "You don't lie, you just don't tell me things."

"I can't tell you every single thought that crosses my mind, how would that work?"

Anathema felt a spark of anger. "Don't play stupid, Crowley. You know exactly what sort of things I'm talking about."

Crowley's eyes darted away again, and he was clearly trying to think of a way to get out of this and ah, here we go, she thought, wily fucking bastard. Anathema felt like punching him for the millionth time since they've known each other.

"You know I can't always tell," Crowley said, looking at her now, his eyes big and vulnerable and his voice soft and innocent. "That's why I need you, Anathema."

Motherfucker, she thought, her hands forming tight fists. "Don't pull that shit with me, Crowley, or I swear to god I'm gonna walk away right now and fucking disappear."

Whatever emotion Crowley was attempting to simulate on his face was gone with a blink, and Anathema was too fucking pissed off to shiver. That wicked energy of his was suddenly pouring off him in waves.

"You're not going to leave me," he said, quietly, calmly - confidently, the fucking bastard - and Anathema could hear the threat behind it. She pressed her lips into a thin line.

"You sound mighty sure of yourself there, friend," she hissed, an unkind tone to her voice. "And you're gonna make sure of that, are you?"

They stood there, watching each other, neither willing to admit to the other that they were afraid.

"Yes," Crowley replied, finally.

Anathema's nostrils flared, face contorting in anger. "How you gonna do that, Crowley?"

He was almost like a statue, unmoving and silent.

"You gonna lock me up in your closet? Huh? Gonna keep me like a fucking pet?"

Crowley said nothing, but the words that were coming from Anathema were having an effect. Snake - meet shovel.

"Yeah, you've thought about that, haven't you? Any other sick fantasies involving me I should be aware of? All that- all that- fucking- psycho shit you wanted to do to that girl? What's stopping you from doing that shit to me, huh? Why don't you just bash my fucking head in right now and-"

For what seemed like the longest moment of her life, Anathema actually thought she was going to die. So many thoughts ran through her head in those few seconds that they seemed like a fucking eternity as she stood trembling in her friend's strong hold. And on the question of fight or flight, she was, it would seem, in favour of the third option - freeze in complete terror. She couldn't breathe, couldn't think. She opened her eyes when she felt a warm palm slowly and softly drawing large circles on her back. Air rushed into her lungs again, kick-starting her brain. The circles on her back continued, and slowly but surely began to relax her taut muscles. He's hugging me, she thought in disbelief. She heard Crowley whisper something but she couldn't make it out though the loud drumming of her heart.

"What?" she managed.

"I'm sorry."

"Oh."

Crowley squeezed her harder then, pressing her closer, only to loosen the embrace again when Anathema tensed. He kept moving his hand on her back.

"You said to tell you the truth. All of it," he said, sounding a little desperate.

"Yeah. I did, didn't I," Anathema returned, trying to chuckle but it sounded more like a sob. Christ. This was life with Crowley. The man who felt barely anything but made you feel so intensely a mix of emotions that did not belong together. Like affection and disgust. Love and fear. Anathema swore to herself she would be more prepared next time, she wouldn't get this hysterical again when Crowley was honest with her. (Which is what she told herself every time.) "I can't control what crosses my mind," Crowley said to her once, and Anathema told him that sounded like a lazy excuse. Crowley agreed.

But it was Anathema's responsibility to know his thoughts, wasn't it? That meant she had to be able to handle hearing him speak about these things and, more importantly, he had to be willing to speak of them and that meant she had to do better. She had to stop punishing him for thinking.

She felt the hold tighten again, only slightly.

"I won't ever harm you. Not you. I swear it."

Despite everything, Anathema believed him. That was the last time Crowley ever threatened her for a long, long time.

But then... that man came along.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/22316332

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spencer-is-amazing · 5 years

Text

Salvation (Michael Langdon x OC)

Pairing: Michael Langdon x Original Character

Length: 2.5k~

Warnings: Smut

Chapter 1: The Beginning (x)

Chapter 2: The End

May 15, 2017- 3 years before the Apocalypse

“-And remember class, that paper on Huck Finn is due next Thursday, beginning of class and not a moment later. I’ll be out of town this weekend so any questions you have will just have to wait until Monday. Have a good weekend kids!”

Julie smiled to herself and packed up her folder and thick binder, stuffing them in the black backpack and hitching the heavy appendage onto her shoulder with a huff. She made her way out of the now empty classroom to give a warm smile to Chloe, her friend of only a year but really her only friend.

Chloe was nothing like Julie; Chloe liked to talk about all the things she liked to do with boys in the locker room and Julie liked to spend time with her mom at the Hotel Cortez, checking the book records of old inhabitants and walking through the empty halls.

She thought it was fun; it was exciting to touch the old wooden doors and feel like the queen of her own castle.

“Hey Chloe, how was class?”

Chloe flipped her hair over her exposed shoulder and smirked; “Got a B+ on my Chem paper and Mr. Johnson promised me some extra credit later this weekend.”

Julie had stopped trying to talk her friend out of fucking teachers, seeing as she would typically run to the principal and get them fired/arrested. Chloe saw it as justice and Julie couldn’t say she was wrong.

Though Julie never knew how Chloe always seemed to know which ones were the creepers; just luck she guessed.

Chloe inquired Julie about her weekend, which included doing absolutely nothing aside from staring out her window and wishing she had more friends. It only sucked sometimes to have close to no friends, but she just needed to be out of high school before she could really bloom.

“Well, my dad is picking me up, sure you don’t need a ride?”

Julie waved her off, “Nah, I’m good. It’s always fun to catch up on new music on my way home.”

She’d never tell Chloe the real reason why she enjoyed her walks home. She’d come across the famous Murder House a year ago, and she loved it. It was a big luxurious house that was something out of the story books and it made her feel like a princess.

And the stories were true; there were dead people in that house. One of the girls, Violet, told her that if you died there, then your spirit was trapped forever, that you could never leave.

Violet had said the house killed her and her family, a ghost boy Tate had been responsible for her pain and suffering and that he too was still there. Julie had asked if the house was going to kill her, and a grown man had stepped forward and said she would never be hurt under his watch.

So every so often, Julie found herself at the steps of the Murder House, just like today. It was cloudy and she enjoyed the feel of the wind on her skin.

There was a kick to her step as she opened the doors, frowning when there were no ghosts in sight. Usually they would see her coming from the windows and come to greet her, so this was odd.

“Violet? Mr. Harmon? Hello?” There was no answer. “Tate? Anybody?”

Julie stopped in the living room, eyes widening at the sight of the dead woman on the couch, and the identical copy sitting right next to her.

“Ah, so you return. My children have told me much about you.”

Julie tried to take a step back but something kept her in place. She couldn’t run but she refused to back down. She was a ghost; she couldn’t actually do anything to her- well… she could kill Julie, but Mr. Harmon said he would protect her.“I don’t believe we’ve met.”

“No, we haven’t. I’m Constance Langdon, Tate’s mother.” Constance turned to look at her corpse, “I couldn’t live in this world anymore Julie. So I came here, where I can live on and be the mother I was meant to be.”

Julie watched her pick up her amber glass and down it in one gulp, “Now tell me child, why are you here? Hm?”

Julie had no reason to lie. “Nothing in particular. The ghosts are kind to me and it makes me feel less lonely.”

And that was the truth, they were like friends that actually found her interesting and were always there.

But Constance clearly disagreed. She threw her glass against the wall and stood on shaky legs, stumbling towards Julie’s frozen form and gripping the smaller girls shoulders with her sharp nails.

Julie should’ve been able to smell the alcohol on her breath but then again, Constance was dead, but she could sure as hell feel those nails digging into her shoulders.

“You need to get out of this house and never come back.” Constance shoved her away and sprawled Julie on the floor. “I see the same evil in you that I saw in my grandson.”

Julie watched as what looked like realization entered the old woman’s eyes and suddenly her old aged face was much too close, though instead of anger, her eyes were full of pain.

Those nails lifted up Julie by her dark thick sweater and whispered in her ear, “He will find you, and you must run. Save yourself Julie March.”

She didn’t understand what she meant, or what she was supposed to do. Who was her grandson? And what kind of evil was in him? Or better yet… what evil was in her?

There were so many things she wanted to ask but both women froze at the sound of footsteps.

“Grandma?”

She was there, on the floor of the living room with Constance leaning over her, and in the next moment she was outside the kitchen door, watching it slam shut and lock her out. She wasn’t stupid enough to wait around and see Constance’s grandson; that was an evil she was better off not knowing.

She sprinted to the street and the whole way home, hiding away in her room and curling up on her bed.

Julie wasn’t going to lie and say that hadn’t made her scared. Her hands splayed out in front of her eyes, tracing the lines that were meant to tell your future. Did her lines say anything about an evil in her life?

A ding from her pocket had her fingers scrabbling to get her phone, a message from Chloe reading ‘you home?’

She texted back a quick ‘yeah’ before stuffing her phone under her pillow and gazing out the window. The house next door had been empty so long, she hoped no one bought it anytime soon, they’d think she was a creep for always watching.

But behold, two months later the house sold, and instead of having the view of a dark empty room, there was a boy in there now. She never really got a good view of him, and she never saw him leave the house. It was like he didn’t exist.

“Hey mom?”

“Hm?”

“Have you met the neighbors? I think there’s someone my age in the room across from mine. Have you seen him?”

Jessie March looked at her daughter with a smile that could rival the beating sun, “Of course I have dear. His name is Michael and his Aunt is Miriam. Lovely woman Miriam, bit hard on the face but I think I might invite her to Lydia’s book club this weekend, you know, really show her the neighbors. And if she says yes then maybe you and Michael can get to know each other. How does that sound?”

Julie picked at her eggs and ignored her mom’s questioning gaze, “What if he doesn’t like me? Or what if I say something stupid?”

Jessie March scoffed and bit into her crunch toast square, “Well, just thinking that he wouldn’t like you is quiet stupid, and I swear to you Julie, that boy will adore you.”

“Whatever you say mom.” Her mother took a sip of cold OJ, “I’m just saying baby, you can’t just sit around and wait for Chloe every weekend to drag of to do something ridiculous. You need other people in your life.”

Her daughter was silent as she finished off her fluffy white eggs, “And who knows, you may need him just as much as he needs you.”

“Whatever you say mom.” Jessie stood up and patted her Julie on the head, ruffling the already messy strands of brown hair. Her heels clicked as she took both of their plates and put them in the sink, and made a sneer at the overflowing trashcan.

“Before you go can you empty the trash? Don’t want to get rats like last time.”

Last summer when Jessie March had left town for a week on a Business venture in Seattle, Julie had had the house to herself and had not once taken out the trash, leading to an infestation in the basement and kitchen cupboards. They’d had to call an exterminator and Julie had been grounded for a week.

“Sure thing.” She stood and stretch, rubbing her full belly before grabbing engorged trash bin and hauling it out the front door, groaning at the bright rays of sun that hit her skin. She hated the warmer months, wishing that the world would stay cold.

A huff of gratitude left her lips when the bag was officially dropped in, the lid closing with a slam. Her eyes watched the empty streets, finding no one out and not a single car in any driveway. A thought that perhaps there was a farmers market close came and went, it was odd.

“Would you be a dear and get me some lemonade?”

“Yes Ms. Mead.”

Julie March turned in time to watch the front door to the neighbor’s house close, leaving her eyes to turn to the short stout dark dressed woman who was without a doubt Miriam Mead.

She looked mean, the dark lipstick and pitch black hair made her think of everything dark in the world packed into one woman. Miriam Mead raised her hand in a wave, “Hey Neighbor!”

Julie gave a shy wave and sprinted as fast as an Olympian into the house, shutting her own door just as the sound of the neighbors door opening echoed through her ears. Her hands shook, her ears were ringing and she ignored her moms questioning look as her legs carried her to her room.

The lock on the door clicked shut and her body shook, but instead of any fear or uncertainty it was a hot burning desire that rang through her lower half.

She groaned and moaned “Are you kidding me?”

Masturbation was such a Chloe thing; her friend had given her a bright pink vibrator last year and said she needed to loosen up once in a while. It was still in its original box in the closet on the upper shelf, hidden from sight.

But out of sight yet not out of mind and Julie scrambled to her closet and thanked the heavens that it came with batteries. She scrambled to get off her sleep pants and panties- shirt and bra as well cause her nipples were crazy sensitive- and placed herself near the headboard.

The pink vibrator was thick and short and the box mostly talked about clitoral stimulation, and she clicked the power button onto the lowest setting. It was a nice hard buzz that had her biting her lip, running the vibe along her hardening nipples and letting out a soft moan. Her soft fingers pinched the other one with a groan.

She would never tell a soul that she wished a man would lean over and suck her tits until they were raw and her voice was hoarse with pleas for him to stop but he would never give in, taking everything she had to offer. She wondered if Michael would suck her tits till they bled.

The vibrator skimmed her love handled tummy and along the thin stretch marks, eventually reaching her glistening pussy. There was very little hair; Chloe had gotten her into shaving.

Julie never did this and she should’ve taken it slow, but instead she placed the head of the buzz right on her clit, arching up at the buzz of pleasure streaming down her legs. It was electricity, the power of the gods were striking her very core and making her weak. Would Michael feast on her as if she were his last meal?

Why was he in her thoughts, why could she see behind her eyelids a man with hair as gold as sun but eyes as dark as night, watching her with a lust she’d never know? Was this Michael? Was he a sinner standing before a sin?

Her finger clicked to the next setting and she tried not to scream; it just felt so fucking good.

Her eyes closed once more and he was there again, closer this time, close enough to touch. Her hands wanted to reach out and feel him, but her bones were stuck in place, her thighs wide and open for him to take.

“Please, touch me.” He smirked at her and moved like wind, his touch being all too real. Her eyes opened and a scream nearly left her throat at the blonde haired boy looming over her, mouth suckling her nipple as if she was his last meal.

He was real- he had to be- and his hand ripped the vibrator from her pussy and moved down her body, gazing at the glistening wetness before him. It was his to taste, only his.

This time she did scream when his tongue circled her clit, nibbling on the sensitive bud as if it were a pesky grape attached to a vine. He hungered for her sweet cunt, wanting her juices to flow into a cup that only he could drink from. He craved her.

“Mich-Michael, please, please.” He didn’t relent, feasting with a fury that rivaled a rabid dog, hands holding her plush thighs in place as he took everything she had to offer.

She was nearing her release when he pulled back, forcing a sob from her throat, why was he being cruel when she was so close?

Michael crawled up her body and gazed at her red bitten lips with lust in his eyes, wishing this would never end. But all good things did.

She came with a scream as he bit into her left nipple with a pain blossoming across her chest. Tears fell as her body collapsed on her sheets; bleary eyes watching the golden haired boy wipe away her watery cheeks.

He placed a kiss on her cheek as her eyes shut, hand caressing her soft warm cheeks with an adoration she would soon come to crave with every breath.

According to her clock, Julie awoke 3 hours later, fully clothed and under the covers. A gasp echoed the room as the memories came back; Michael had been in her room and he’d touched her in ways she’d never been touched.

But had that been real? It couldn’t have been…

“Ow…the hell?” Her hand pulled down her sleep shirt, eyes widening at the massive bruising surrounding her left nipple.

It had been real, and the worst part was, she craved more.

Like/Reblog and check out my Ao3 account Spencebox!

#michael langdon #michael langdon fanfic #michael langdon smut #michael langdon fluff #american horror story fanfiction #ahs #michael langdon fanfiction #cody fern fanfic #american horror story apocalypse #ahs season 8 #ahs 8 #cody fern #ahs series #ahs murder house #ahs 1 #ahs apocalypse fanfic #ahs apocalypse fanfiction #ahs murder house fanfic

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uas-fics · 5 years

Text

Title: Lukewarm bath water Summary: Kyle knows Stan can handle his emotional downswings just fine on his own, or he thought he knew that until he came home to find Stan in a tub of lukewarm bathwater still wearing his boxers. Rating: T Ships: Style past Stendy

Content warnings: Talks of depression, mental illness, and suicide.

If you are struggling with thoughts of self-harm, you can check out this list of hotlines for help.

---

“Go talk to Stan, now.”

Kyle held the phone from his ear. He stared down at it for a few seconds as his brain tried to comprehend the order. He placed it back pinned between his shoulder and ear as he organized papers.

“What? Why? Stan’s sleeping. He works nights.”

Wendy groaned into the phone. “You haven’t talked to him much lately, have you?”

“No? I work days, and the last few weekends, one of us has been busy. We don’t need to talk every day to be happy together, Wendy.” Kyle hoped she could hear the eye roll in his tone. She knew he was working. Besides, Stan wasn’t her problem anymore. They broke up last year.

“Don’t start, Kyle. I’ve told you a million times I am fine with how Stan and I ended.” Wendy heaved a sigh. “Look, I didn’t want to do this, but I have to. Stan’s been texting me...”

Kyle froze, his heart skipping a beat. Stan was texting her? Well, there was nothing wrong with that, per se. As Wendy said, they were still friends, even if they were exes, but then why would Wendy call to tell him, unless…

“What was it about?”

“He’s depressed.”

Kyle scoffed. “Oh, that’s all? Why’d you worry me like that?”

“Kyle!” Wendy’s tone was full of irritation. He winced. He had misspoken.

“What? Stan gets down in the dumps every few months. It’s no big deal. He’ll call in sick for work and sleep it off.” He picked up some papers and tapped them into an orderly stack.

“You are a complete ignoramus!” Wendy shouted, making him jump. His phone fell from his shoulder to his desk with a clatter. With a swear, he picked it back up. Luckily, he hadn’t disconnected the call.

“Easy on the yelling," He told her. "Maybe when you and Stan were together, you needed to coddle him through it, but that’s not how he and I work. I give him his space to work everything out and he gives me mine. We’re a well-oiled machine like that.”

Wendy hissed a breath. “Damn, he must really love you to put up with this.”

“Put up with what?”

He heard her shuffling on the other end of the line. Thinking she might have meant to hang up on him, he went to end the call on his end, when Wendy’s voice came through.

“Kyle, please, listen to me,” Wendy spoke slowly, choosing her words carefully. “Don’t take offense to this, but you are shit at emotional support. You have no skills in that category what so ever.”

Kyle nearly expressed his distinct offense but forced himself to stay quiet.

When he didn’t reply, she went on, “You have never been good at helping Stan through his emotional swings. Not when we were kids and not now. I want you to know that. Usually, it was the other way around. Stan was the one calming you down.”

“Uh-huh.” Kyle rested his chin in his hands. “So, what? Stan is a grown man. He can handle feeling sad sometimes.”

“He has a mental illness, Kyle!” Wendy snapped, exasperated. “Those aren’t as easy to work through as you think.”

“Mind over matter,” Kyle replied. “He can handle it.”

“Then why has he been texting me constantly over the past few days? I have logs and logs of chats from Stan about how he's feeling, and none of them are particularly good.” She sighed, her voice growing soft. “Kyle, Stan needs emotional support right now, and I don’t know how comfortable it would be for you if his support was me. He needs you to show you care enough to help him.”

“Of course, I care.” Kyle instantly responded. “I love him.”

She hummed in an unsure tone, which irritated Kyle to no end. He was Stan’s super best friend and his boyfriend. He knew what Stan needed better than she did, but, still, something about Stan texting Wendy about his feelings left a pit in his stomach.

“Fine.” Kyle opened his desk drawer for a file folder. “I’ll go check on him and prove to you he doesn’t need me to get over it.”

With a smile in her voice, Wendy thanked him and hung up.

Kyle rolled his eyes and pulled up Stan’s contact. He pressed to dial then held it to his ear. With any luck, Stan would answer, tell him everything was hunky-dory and Kyle wouldn’t have to leave work early.

The phone rang and rang until his voice mail picked up. Kyle held the phone away from his face with a frown. That was unusual. Stan always answered him.

Maybe he was still sleeping, so Kyle called him again, and again, all to the same result.

Running a hand through his hair, Kyle shoved his phone in his pocket before heading to tell his boss he was leaving.

---

The kitchen light was on and so was the hallway leading to the bathroom, but not in the living room. Kyle wandered carefully through the maze of mismatch chairs and the couch that made up their living room furniture until he came to the kitchen.

A half-made sandwich sat on a plate surrounded by mustard, a head of lettuce, sliced ham, and an open jar of mayonnaise. The mayonnaise on the bread had turned a translucent yellow color. Kyle wrinkled his nose before quickly putting the lettuce, sliced ham, and mustard back into the refrigerator. He wasn’t sure he trusted the open mayonnaise anymore, so he just screwed the top on.

The half finished sandwich he threw away in the trash.

Setting the plate in the sink, Kyle wandered down the hallway. A light shone out from under the bathroom door.

He tapped his knuckles against the wood.

“Stan? Stan, are you in here?”

Water sloshed before Stan replied, “Kyle? What are you doing home?”

“I...No reason.” Kyle chewed his lip. “Can I come in?”

“I’m in the bath.”

“I’ve already seen everything there is to see, dude, and I did like what I saw.”

He’d hoped to get a laugh out of that, but nothing came. Ice settled in Kyle’s stomach as he reached for the knob and twisted. It was unlocked, so he wandered in.

Stan stared at him from the corner of a filled bathtub with a startled expression that reminded Kyle of a raccoon he once caught digging through the trashcans outside the back of his house. He tensed but soon relaxed back into the water.

They hadn’t seen each other much lately. Nothing more than passing each other when one was heading for work while the other was coming home. Even so, how had Kyle not noticed how run down Stan looked? His face drooped with deep bags under his eyes. Even in the bath, his hair was shiny with grease. When was the last time Stan properly shaved his face? There was an attempt made, but a very weak one. Patches of wiry black hair covered his face like poke-a-dots along his chin.

“Hey,” Kyle greeted, stepping close.

“Hey.” Stan waved at him, but there was no enthusiasm behind it. “Did you get fired?”

“No, I just didn’t feel like working.”

“That’s how you get fire, you know.”

Stan had on his boxer shorts in the tub. Why did he have on his boxer shorts in the tub?

His foot hit an empty container of dish soap. Did Stan use dish soap to make a bubble bath? Well, if he did, he did it a while ago. Not a single bubble floated along the water’s surface.

“Stan, are you ok?” Kyle's lips turned downwards.

“Me? I’m fine.” He shrugged. “Just thought I’d take a bath and relax.”

Kyle sat down on the rim of the tub and stuck his hand in. His frown deepened.

“This is lukewarm at best."

“I’ve been relaxing for a long time. You can come in if you want.” Stan sprawled out with his arms spread along the edges. He tried to flash a flirtatious smile at him, but it came out as more tired than anything else.

Kyle’s chest squeezed as Wendy’s words played back in his head. Now that he thought about it, Kyle never bothered to pay attention to Stan when he got like this. He left Stan to mope by himself since it was a pain to listen to him whine and sigh.

Now he regretted that decision.

“Stan, Wendy called me.” He reached over to set a hand on Stan’s open palm. His fingers were wrinkled terribly, another statement to how long Stan had been in there.

“Oh? Why?” He jerked his hand back into the water, resting both his palms on his boxer-covered upper thighs.

Kyle cut to the chase. “Are you having a depressive episode?”

Stan scoffed. “No. What? I’m fine, just overworked, thus the bath. This is all normal stuff, dude. Nothing to worry about.” He gestured to the water around him.

“Stan,” Kyle pointed, “you took a bath in your boxers. Normal people don’t take baths in their boxers.”

Stan flinched. “Oh. I, um, I forgot.”

Worry gripped his stomach, crushing the block of ice into sharp splinters that stabbed at his insides. Either Stan was lying to him, or Wendy was, and Wendy had no reason to lie about this.

The urge to get up and walk out of the bathroom nearly overtook Kyle. He clenched his hands into fists on his knees and curled his toes in his shoes to keep himself rooted to the spot. No, he was not going to leave Stan alone like this. Not this time. His boyfriend needed him.

“Stan, please, tell me if something is wrong,” Kyle pleaded. “I’ll listen. I’ll help. Just tell me what to do.”

Stan squirmed, lowering himself down into the water until only from his nose up peeked out. His eyes never left the wall.

He lifted his head just enough to mutter, “It’ll be fine. I’ll get over it.” He forced another smile then made a shooing motion with his hand.

Kyle chewed his lower lip then stood. “Ok, then.” He took three steps before he stopped. “No. Not ‘ok’.” He spun back around and marched over. Kicking off his shoes then pulling off his socks, Kyle stepped right into the tub, slacks, shirt, and all.

Stan shifted back, both in surprise and in an attempt to make room, when Kyle placed his hands on either side of him, boxing him in.

“Now who’s the not normal one?” Stan pinched at his wet shirt between his finger and thumb. His determined expression did not shift from Stan’s joke.

“What is wrong? How can I fix it?” Kyle demanded, leaving no room for arguments.

Stan scanned over his face then looked away. “Mental illness isn’t something you can fix, Kyle.” He murmured. “There’s no more a cure for what I have than there is for your diabetes. I know that’s frustrating for you but that’s how it is.”

“Frustrating for me?” Kyle fell back to his knees. “I’m not the one moping around in a bathtub channeling my inner prune.”

Was calling this moping a good idea? That’s what he always called it, but was he hurting Stan’s feelings when he did? He made a mental note to ask later when Stan felt a little better.

Stan laughed once, softly. “Kyle, no offense, but you have the emotional support capabilities of a rock. You want things to follow your nice, logical path, and if they don’t follow that path, you get frustrated and leave.” He held up his hand when Kyle opened his mouth to counter. “Don’t try to argue with that. I’ve been with you since we were toddlers. I know what I’m talking about.”

Kyle’s mouth snapped shut. His face burned as red as his curls.

“Am I that bad?” He asked with a wince already on his face for the answer.

“You’re not good,” Stan replied, setting a hand on his forearm, “Remember when I went through a goth phase? Your logical idea of replacing Wendy failed and you got mad about it, or in high school, when my parents got divorced again and you kind of washed your hands with me until I worked everything out?”

Kyle nearly pointed out that he had been in the right in both those situations, but stopped himself. Maybe he hadn’t been.

The first one, Kyle had to admit he might have overreacted. He’d never been broken up with before. Finding a new girlfriend seemed like a logical step, like replacing an old toy with a new one.

As for high school, well, he was going through his own problems. He didn’t want to be dragged down with Stan’s, but, looking back, maybe that was a bit of a douche move on his part to throw his hands up and walk away.

“That’s only two times,” Kyle defended.

“When I was diagnosed with Aspergers, when my grandpa passed away, Cartman’s whole deal with his anxiety disorder--”

“Hey, Cartman was using his as an excuse to be a dick.” Kyle cut in. “What you went through was different.”

“Was it?” Stan sat up a little straighter. “I’m not going to lie and say Cartman wasn’t abusing his diagnosis to get away with shit more often than not, because he totally was, but did you really see a difference between what he pulled and me? Was him ignoring everyone to be on his phone and me canceling plans because I didn't have the energy to go out all that different to you? Before now, I mean?”

He opened his mouth, shut it, opened it again, before sighing. “No. Not really.”

Stan patted his arm. “Emotional support skills of a rock, my dude.”

“I’m sorry, Stan.” Kyle took his hand from his arm and squeezed it. “I shouldn’t have left you when things got hard. Best friend or boyfriend, that’s a dick move. No wonder you stopped telling me when these episodes happened.”

“It wasn’t that you left. It was that--” Stan shook his head. “It was that I thought you thought I was weak for it. I don’t want you to think I’m weak.”

“I’ve never thought you were weak,” Kyle lied. Yes, he did, and now he was kicking himself for it. Stan’s emotional downturns annoyed him and he didn’t understand them, which, yes, frustrated him, but that didn’t make Stan weak. If anything, Kyle felt weaker for not bothering to understand in the first place.

He shook himself. “Well, I’m here now, and I want to help. I’ll be your rock, but one with amazing support skills and emotional understanding.”

This got a sincere smile from Stan. “You don’t have to if it makes you uncomfortable.”

“Yes, I do.” Kyle fixed his gazed with Stan’s, trying to impress on him that he was going to step up and be better, even if Stan didn’t want him to Stan pulled his hand away and brought his knees to his chest.

When he didn’t reply, Kyle wracked his brain for something to say or do to prove himself.

“Tell me how you're feeling.”

Would that help? Talking is supposed to make people feel better, isn’t it? Now Kyle wished he’d asked Wendy what he should do when he went to talk to Stan.

“What are you sad about?” He coaxed, “Please, tell me.”

Stan rested his chin on his knees. “I’m not sad, not really.”

“You’re depressed.”

“I have depression. That doesn’t always mean I’m sad.” Stan took a breath. “Right now, for example, it’s feeling hopeless about my life that's the problem.”

“Hopeless?” Kyle echoed. “What’s there to feel hopeless about? You’ve got a job. You’re in your twenties and have a group of close friends still. Your life is far from hopeless.”

Stan raised a shoulder in a half shrug. “I know, but that doesn’t mean I still don’t feel hopeless and like a failure. There was so much I wanted to have accomplished by now that I haven't.” He pursed his lips before slowly and quietly asking, “Do you remember that Pip kid in elementary school?”

Kyle nodded. He couldn’t recall Pip’s face, but he remembered him well enough regardless.

“He died trying to save everyone. Like a hero.” Stan shut his eyes. “I’ve been thinking I wish that it had been me. He should have lived to go on to do great things. He wouldn’t have been wasting his life like I am. I should have died, not him.”

The ice shards in his stomach reformed into a knife and stabbed at Kyle’s chest. He had to force air into his lungs, feeling a stab of pain when he did.

“Stan, are you...” He swallowed. “Are you saying you want to die?”

Stan opened his eyes. God, he looked so tired. Where was his energy? Where was his life? Why were his eyes dull and glassy like a dead fish's?

“I don’t want to die,” He whispered, as if he were scared speaking to loud would hurt. “I just don’t want to feel like this anymore.” He curled in on himself. “I’m really tired, Kyle. I won't do it, but, still, I want it to stop.”

“I don’t understand,” Kyle replied honestly. “It will stop. These episodes don’t last forever.”

“They don’t.” Stan smiled grimly. “It’s like—well think of it like this: you’re driving down the freeway and you miss your turn. You could keep driving until you near an off-ramp and turn around. That’s how you’re supposed to do it. But sometimes you can’t help but think it would be faster to drive across the grass and through the fence in between the two freeways.

“It wouldn’t take as long, even if you might damage your car or get arrested for it. You’ll probably hurt or piss off other people, too, but at least you don’t have to wait as long to get to your destination. It’s not logical or a good idea, and you know that, but the thought is still there egging you on. You just can’t help it.” Stan paused, peeking at Kyle thought his eyelashes. “Does that make sense?”

“A little, I guess.” Kyle whistled through his teeth. “Do you want to get out now? We can keep talking when I’m not, ah...” He held out his arms. Water poured off his sleeves back into the tub. “Yeah.”

---

His hair still dripped, but at least Kyle had on clean, warm sweat pants and an old, comfortable shirt.

In the few moments of privacy Kyle had while Stan emptied the tub and put on his dry clothes, he quickly googled what to do to help Stan out. By some stroke of luck, he was able to find a checklist that seemed trustworthy enough to employ.

He came into their bedroom to find Stan laying on the bed in just dry boxers, his eyes shut and breathing slow. Kyle watched him. He didn't look so different now. Maybe it wasn't fully Kyle's lack of observational skills that he didn't see how bad Stan got.

“Here,” He held out the cup of apple juice, “drink this, and,” He offered a cup of yogurt, “eat this. It’ll help.”

Stan peeked open his eyes at him before pushing himself up. “Thanks.” He took the offered drink and sipped before grabbing the yogurt with his other hand. After setting the juice down, Stan put a spoonful of yogurt in his mouth then, like a hungry beast, he gobbled up the rest.

“Did you eat today?” Kyle asked.

“When I got up, I had a hot pocket, but it was a few hours ago,” Stan admitted around a mouthful of yogurt.

“I’ll cook something in a bit then,” Kyle promised as Stan set the yogurt down to retrieve the juice. According to the alarm clock, it was only four forty. Did that count as day or night? The list said something about wearing clean clothes for the day time and comfortable PJs for the night. Were Stan’s PJs even clean?

Shelving that particular list item away, Kyle sat on the bed with his arms lazily set on his knees.

“Did you take your medication today?” Kyle asked.

Stan chuckled nervously, hiding his mouth behind the glass. “Um, no. I was feeling pretty good until recently and didn’t refill my prescription.” He admitted, setting the near empty glass by the yogurt. “Oops?”

“Don’t 'oops' me.” Kyle rolled his eyes. “If I have to take pills for my blood sugar to stay stable, you have to take yours to keep your brain chemistry stable.” He looked at the clock again. “We still have time to go to the pharmacy if you get some pants on.”

If they did that, Kyle could check both ‘stretch legs’ and ‘get in clean clothes’ off the list. Stan cringed.

“But I’m comfortable.” He purposefully snuggled down. “Tomorrow’s Saturday, and I already got a friend to cover my shift tonight, so we could go together in the morning.” With a smile, Stan wrapped his arms around Kyle’s waist and lifted him, only to fall back. He buried his face in the crook of his neck.

“Let’s stay here for a while and get cozy.”

His hair was still greasy with white flecks of dandruff near his scalp. His chin hair scraped against Kyle’s skin, but Kyle didn’t mind.

The list said snuggle with a living thing. Kyle was, in fact, a living thing, so he twisted around and moved his arms to looped them around his shoulders. Stan coiled his hands into Kyle's shirt, pulling him closer and mumbling how warm he was. Kyle breathed a single laugh before setting his chin on the top of his head.

“Stan, I am sorry I didn’t try to understand your feelings.” He muttered into his ear. “I will do better, but be patient with me. Old habits die hard.”

Stan chuckled and kissed his cheek. “I know. I’ll work on making sure to tell you before things get this bad next time.” He snuggled closer and Kyle held him tighter, vowing he would become the best emotional support Stan would ever have.

---

AN: I didn’t make up the list. It’s a real thing you can check out here.

Anyway, I think I’ve mentioned this on at least one of my blogs that the reason I don’t really ship style is that I don’t think Kyle can handle Stan on an emotional level, but the concept of Kyle learning how to handle him? Very fun to play around with in this circumstance.

#south park #sp style #stan marsh #kyle broflovski #stan x kyle #fanfiction #style #one-shot

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jay-and-dean · 5 years

Text

Love me once, shame on me Chapter 4 : Addictive.

Dean x named reader (is this a thing ?)

Love me Once, Shame on me MASTERLIST

Serie Warnings : Violence, swearing, Angst, Smut, unprotected sex (you are smarter than this), Fluffy fluff.

Chapter warnings : Violence, swearing, angst, smut, fluff.

Words : 5k

Chapter summary : She just can’t live without him. He just needs to understand why he can’t stay away.

gifs not mine, edited by @justjensenanddean

The hunt took two days, cursed object, classic, easy. The true challenges were sleeping in the same room as Dean -well just looking at him sleep for hours actually-, being in the same car as Dean, doing everything with Dean. That was challenging.

I try my best to act with him like I do with Sam or Jack. But I fail most of the time... He keeps talking to me and smiling at me, but I'm on the defensive. The worse is Dean is still the sweetest, bravest most special man I know and my hopes of getting over him are slowly dying in the back of my head.

We stopped on our way home and Dean took us to this noisy bar. Staring absently in the bottom of my glass I hear Sam coming back next to me.

"Wow, my brother really doesn't like to lose !" he smiles.

I lift my eyes on Dean, still beside the pool. I can see he drank just a little too much. Just when I lost myself in the sight of him, he turns his glare on me, piercing me with his intense green eyes.

"I'm heading back to the motel" says Sam.

I nod, drinking bottoms up at the idea of staying alone with his brother.

When Sam's gone, just-a-little-drunk-Dean comes next to me.

"So what do you want to do ?" he says with a large grin.

"Have another drink" I say showing the barman my empty glass.

I have to be at least as drunk as him to bear his attitude.

"You were a real badass on this hunt again" he says. "And you shoot like a fucking sniper !"

I shrug and drink half my glass. He comes closer to me, like a big cat, and my entire body tenses.

"Badass and beautiful, do you have any flaws ?" he purrs looking at me.

"Shut up Dean" I warn with my jaw clenched. "Don't do that."

"Don't do what ?" he tries to look innocent. "I'm just saying you're my type."

I get up and rub my face with my two hands, to hide I'm on the verge of crying. I can't do this. I take my jacket, finish my drink and head for the door, but Dean catches me halfway.

"Hey, don't leave Jay. I..."

"I'm just tired" I cut him but he frowns.

"Okay what is it ?" he asks and I start to panic.

"What ?" shit my tone was cold again.

"This ! You. You're kind and open with everyone except with me. Everything I say seems to annoy you. What did I do ?" he asks looking deep in my eyes.

"Nothing" I lie biting my lower lip.

"Sure" he groans.

He's perfect.

He's manly.

How can he be even sexier than he was years ago ? Is this even possible ?

I've missed his lips for years.

FOR YEARS.

"Fuck you Dean" I say getting on my tiptoes.

I crush my lips on his and the world stops. Fourteen years ago, now and my every dreams are combining and I just can't think anymore.

Dean deepens the kiss, all tongue and teeth, he acts like he knew the deprivation too. I can't hear him because everything single thing in this bar is loud, but I can feel him moan on my lips.

I take him by the hand and lead him toward the restroom, not looking back.

Once inside, I close the door and secure it with a chair. Dean takes me in his arms again and starts to kiss my jaw, but I am already opening my jeans. I can’t allow myself to indulge in thinking too much. Taking my panties down, I turn around, putting my hands on the sink, watching him in the mirror.

"Wha... wow, Jay, you aren't kidding !" he says looking at my ass, surprised and impressed.

"Fuck me" I groan spreading my legs the best I can with my jeans on the knees.

He throws himself at me, his hands on my ass, his mouth on my neck, licking and biting. I feel one of his hand grip my hip strongly to press my ass against his crotch, he starts moving his hips, and I can feel his jeans getting tighter and tighter. His other hand comes under my long sleeves shirt and scratches my stomach eagerly, moving up to my bra. He massages my covered breasts and I know how much he wants to take my bra off, I know how much he craves for the skin just around the nipples, how much he loves breasts. How much he loves mine.

I'm a panting mess. My body recognizes his master, everything falls in place. His mouth on my neck could make me come alone and I feel my pussy clench around nothing, soaking my thighs almost like I was peeing. I'm so dizzy.

"Please" I just beg in a soft wail.

He groans low, his hand leaving my chest to go down. When his fingers brush my pussy I moan loudly, letting my head down.

"Shit !" he whimpers. "How can you be so wet already !"

Saying that he lets his middle finger run through my folds, caressing my clit and I can't help but scream. The hand that was holding my hip comes across my waist to keep me up, unless I would have fell, head on the mirror.

I come. Hard. Just like that, after years of dreaming of him, just feeling him touch me that way makes my brain go blank. I cry in pleasure as my body shakes.

"Fuck..." he pants, releasing me just enough to open his belt and take his boxers down.

With hunter speed, he bends me over and thrust his iron hard cock inside me until he’s fully seated, and I think he's going to break me.

"Fuck me Dean" I whisper in a pleading tone.

And he does. Taking my hair in one hand to brutally keep me from falling, and the other arm still locked around my waist to keep me still, he starts thrusting hard and sharp.

Someone tries to open the door but I don't care anymore, about anything else than Dean being deep inside of me. When I manage to open my eyes, I look at his perfect face in the mirror. His mouth open, his eyes closed, like he was in pain, extreme pain ; I've only seen him like that when I was teasing to torture him, after he taught me every secret of his body. He's enjoying this as much as I do, and he won't last longer than me. He’s so deep I can feel him pushing inside of me, I’m full again, and I’m whole again.

"God... Jay..." he groans and I feel my body react to his voice, like it always did.

Hearing him lost in pleasure pushes me toward my own orgasm and when I feel his grip on my hair tighten almost until pain, I come again.

His head falls on my shoulder and he bites it, strangling a scream as my pussy is pulsating around him with force. Then his movements become erratic and I feel his delicious cum splash inside me for the first time in years.

I feel like an ex junkie taking a shot of heroin. It's like I'm finally living again, and dying for good, I care about nothing. Dean comes out of me panting and let go of my hair.

"Sorry" he says realizing out hard he was pulling at it. "That was..." he tries but I cut him.

"Give me some toilet paper" I ask dizzy and he gives me too much of it.

I wipe his cum running on my thigh with my own juice and throw the paper in the trashcan. He just keeps looking at me when I rearrange myself.

"Jay..." he tries but I cut him again.

"I need a drink, then I need to sleep."

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

2005

I open my eyes and look around me. The light of a sunny day is shining through the little window of her -sort of- bedroom. She is naked in my arms.

Her alarm rings and I hate it with all my heart. She moves and yawns, tightening her grip on me, kissing my chest.

"You okay ?" I ask, taking a strand of hair away from her face.

"Yeah”

After a short minute of silence, she adds :

“I still feel you… you know, there.”

She moves her thighs slightly.

"Does it hurt ?"

"No" she smiles with her eyes still closed. "It reminds me of last night. I like it."

I kiss her gently, just brushing my lips against hers and her alarm rings again. She opens her eyes and turns it off. She sits on the bed, mouthing a little “oh” when her body is straight. I rub her lower back and she smiles at me.

“I want to do that again” she says.

I catch her in my arms to force her to lie against me and she doesn’t struggle at all.

“Don’t go” I say. “Stay with me.”

“You know I can’t” she touches my face, smiling at me. “And I don’t want to become an addict. You’re dangerously addictive Dean Winchester, you know that ?”

I move quickly to stuck her under me and nuzzle in her neck. The way her hands always find my hair makes my heart so light.

“You’ll be there when I finish school ?” she asks wistful.

“Of course, baby. I’ll always be there…”

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

The ride to the motel is silent again. I can’t talk, I’m too drunk and too high on him to find which words I could use. I let him touch me again. I swore it would never happen. If someone told me back then that this day would come, I would have cried and yell and hit this person for being so cruel. But it happened.

It’s been a week. I met Rowena and Castiel. They asked a lot of questions, and as usual, I lied only when it was vital. Rowena didn’t stay long, she asked for the Book of the Damned to do research but the brothers laughed at her, saying it was a nice try. She promised to think of it, mostly because she likes Sam, she said. If this is witchcraft, she’ll find it, they assured me. It’s kind of scary actually. What if, all this time after, someone found an answer ? What would I do with it ?

We spent three days together and when the witch were gone, I started packing my few stuff, Sam asked me to stay a little longer. “We could use your help really” he said. If Dean wasn’t the one who broke me, this proposition would have been thrilling, I actually love this place, it is so good to have friends, to hunt with partners and to eat when hungry… But Dean is the one. And everything about it is complicated and painful.

I stayed though. Like an addict, knowing stay will be painful as hell, but unable to take a single step away from him.

I keep my distance as much as possible, still, avoiding him most of the time. But I see how upset he looks sometimes when my behavior change with him entering the room. He sees how I start to relax with Jack, listening to music with him, talking about movies and life, and with Sam when he makes me laugh. I just can’t let my guard down when it comes to him.

We never talked about that night. He tried to flirt once or twice but I was cold and he just stopped. I try not to be rude, I don’t want him to think he’s worth less than the others, I know he already does most of the time. The problem is I hate him… And I realize I still love him. I fell desperately in love with him again.

Jack and I have developed a strange relationship, more like family. I think I was the first to talk to him really like an adult.

It started the night I showed him Requiem for a dream, I don’t know why. He wanted to watch a movie and after a discussion on violence in movies (and that blood is not the worst violence), I showed him this movie.

He started asking questions during our nights together (he barely sleeps because of this archangel thing, I barely because of how fucked up I am). He asked about life, about violence, not the supernatural one, the world’s violence, from hateful crimes and political repression, to domestic violence ; about social movements ; about illness, drugs and poverty. But he also started asking questions about love, friendship, faith, art and sex. Jack is an adult, Sam and Dean keep saying he’s a child, but I doubt that. I mean he looks like an adult and he’s an archangel’s child. Treating him like a kid isn’t going to protect him. So our relationship evolved that way, and now I’m the big sister, or like the cool cousin that takes you with her when with cool friends. The one that makes you grow. And he’s a perfect friend. Faithful and kind.

Sam, I love him so much. Not the way I love Dean. But the more I know him, the more I admire and love the man. He makes me comfortable. He makes me so serene, I sometimes become my old me for a while. Dancing alone and being almost hysterical talking about a movie or a book… like I was healing. When Sam and I talk, I understand why Dean was so devastated about him leaving to college. When I follow him on his morning runs sometimes, it’s like my body was free for a moment, and I sleep better those nights…

Except the pain is always there, and each details that reminds me of what I lost shatters my heart in tinier pieces.

We’re in the kitchen all together, Jack opened a beer and Sam lectured him about how young he is, but I can see how he just wants to do everything Dean does, he looks up to him, and I must admit he’s right. Dean is the best person I know.

When he’s not breaking your heart…

The night is light and we all spent the day apart, doing researches, watching movies and reading. I went to town to do the shopping, careful not to forget pie and beer.

It’s good to be all together right now.

I try not to be so cold with Dean and give him a beer with a warm smile, he stares at me surprised and brush my hand while taking the bottle. At his smooth touch, I look down and he keeps his hand there just a second too long for it not to be intentional.

Almost two hours after, I’m telling that story where my car fell of a cliff, using unnecessary but funny details and comments to make them laugh. Dean’s laughter is intoxicating, I was used to it, but now it’s rarer and louder, like its value increased. So I drink to not think too much, flashes of my lost boyfriend torturing me regularly.

Then there is this moment I get up to take something in the fridge, and my sleeve comes up. Revealing one of my long deep scar, almost all the way up my forearm. Sam and Dean frown in unison, and I take it down quickly.

“You got hurt on a hunt ?” Jack asks with his kind ingenuity.

Dean clear his voice and stares at me with a sad look. I could punch him right now.

“Was it a big werewolf ? Or a…” Jack continues but Sam cuts him.

“No, Jack”

“A boy broke my heart” I just say sadly.

I want to storm out of the room but Sam speaks :

“The other too ?”

“Of course, Sam. The other too, when you… It was for real, I really wanted too…”

“I’m sorry” Sam says.

“Fuck, what did this guy did to you…” Dean whispers.

And I feel burning tears rolling down my cheek.

You did this to me Dean.

You.

And now you…

“You can talk to us, Jay” Sam says.

I give him a sour laugh.

“What do you want me to say ? I fell in love and he broke my heart and I tried to kill myself. Pathetic isn’t it ?”

I take his glass from Sam’s hand and drink it. Then I leave the room, heading for my bedroom.

Almost one hour later, I hear a knock on my door, and this time, I recognize Dean.

“What do you want ?” I say through the door.

He enters and closes the door behind him.

“I knew you weren’t sleeping yet” he says sitting on my bed.

I take my knees in my arms and try not to look at him in the eye.

“I’m sorry we were rude” he states, looking at his palms.

“You weren’t”.

The room is silent for a moment. I need him to take me in his arms so bad it hurts, my body starts to shake. The sharp pain in my stomach makes a tear roll down my cheek.

“Are you angry at me ?” he suddenly asks out of the blue.

I shake my head no, unable to speak.

“You’re beautiful, you know. In every ways. You deserve better…” he whispers.

My eyes meet his, and I hear my breathing shake and whistle a little. Big heavy tears crash on my hands.

“Why do you say that ?” I cry on an unwitting pleading voice.

“Because you are…” This sincere shyness in his voice reminds me of my Dean, my Baby, my love… Even if I can see he’s a bit drunk.

“Shut up !”

“No, you really are…” He sighs. “And that time we… It was…” He look at my tears soaking my hands and rubs his face. “It breaks my heart to know that an asshole hurt you so much” his hand finds mine and I take it away as fast as possible.

“He’s not an asshole ! He’s the best man in the world. And I still love him, alw-always will. Don’t talk about him like that. Don’t talk about him at all” I sob. “And don’t-don’t fucking tell me I’m beautiful. Fuck you !”

He looks shocked for a second then very sad. He looks at his hand, where he tried to touch mine, on my knee.

“Why do you hate me ?” he says with a light hipcup. “Is it because of, you know, the last time ?”

“I’m sorry Dean I don’t hate you. I- I’m just so… I don’t know. Broken. I should leave. I should leave the bunker and leave you alone. You don’t need my shitty life and my shitty moods and…”

But Dean cuts me. By kissing me.

He kisses my lips and deepens the kiss right away. Slipping his hot whiskey flavored tongue in my mouth.

I push him on the shoulders, to make him stop but he takes my arms in his hand strongly. And he bends to kiss me deeper and deeper, crushing my back on the headboard a bit. It’s like he’d missed this as much as I did. And I can’t stop crying.

“Dean… Dean stop” I manage to say against his perfect mouth.

“I just…” he pants. “I’m sorry. There is just something about you… Forget it.”

“I can’t do this Dean. I’m sorry I…” I burst in tears.

“Don’t be sorry. You don’t have to be sorry” he says, touching my cheek to wipe away a tear.

“Please, Dean, I just need to be alone”.

When he gets up to reach the door, I can see he’s thinking really hard even if my vision is blurry through the tears I keep wiping with my sleeves.

“If you need me, for anything, I’m here. I’ll always be here, okay Jay ?” he says and I see myself screaming my lungs out, puking, calling him in the night for hours, begging him to come back holding my chest because I felt my heart fall in pieces. I was the worst pain ever.

He wasn’t there anymore.

Dean Winchester left me and the world was crashing down.

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

2005

When the bell rings my heart starts pounding, just because it knows she'll be here soon. I stay in the car, waiting for her to climb inside and smile at me. Since I kissed her for the first time, we've never been apart this long. And at this point, two nights is a very long time. We only made love one other time after that first time night, before dad sent me coordinates for a case. I texted her from the hunt, from the crappy motel room I was staying at, hours away from her, and I caught myself hoping this can last, imagining going on hunts and coming back to her on every occasion. I have never been with someone who knows about hunts and accepts it. And I've never been with someone I care about this much. Maybe this could work.

My phone rings. Dad. He sends me a text saying he is investigating an important case in Michigan. For the first time in my life knowing he's so far away is comforting. I just want some time alone with Jay.

"Hey !" she says opening the door and I smile.

She gets in the car and kisses me with her two hands holding my face.

"Wow, you smell funny" she says with a mocking smile and I shrug.

"Yeah, no time to shower. I wanted to be here on time. I think I have vampire blood in my hair" I say starting the engine.

"My hero" she smiles looking in my hair. "Yeah. Yeah, blood here" she says with a disgusted grimace.

When we reach her trailer, she offers me to take a shower. As I come out of the bathroom, wearing only a towel, she's working on a math book or whatever.

The instant she lifts her glare on me, I see her pupils blow. She gets up and runs her fingers on my collarbones, with that shyness I love, kissing my jaw.

"You are so handsome" she whispers and goosebumps roam my body. "I'm sorry I'm so inexperienced... I feel like I owned a Ferrari but never had my driving license."

I laugh and take one of her hands to flatten it on my still moist chest. She's trembling again, every time we get close, she becomes so vulnerable.

"I'm not that exceptional, and you don't need to be experienced to be perfect" I tell her kissing her lips softly.

Still holding her hand I make it touch my skin, deliberately making it brush my nipple on its way to my stomach. With my other hand I let the towel fall on the ground and her eyes widen.

"You wanted me to teach you baby" I whisper against her mouth.

"Y-yeah..." she mutters.

I see she's trying not to look south and focus on my mouth, so I stop kissing her and take half a step back, not enough to take her hands off of me, but just enough to enable her to see me from head to toe.

"Look at me" I tell her letting her hand go.

She bites her lower lip and lets her eyes fall on my most private parts. I could be embarrassed, with any other woman I've been with I would probably be. But she's different, and she asked me twice now to teach her, to let her see me. This is so intimate I fell like my body was made for her to touch ; every flaw, every scar, every freckle she lays eyes on becomes hers.

She stares at me for a moment, flushed and shy. Her two hands come to her side, she’s looking everywhere but my face.

“Touch me” I tell her and a tiny gasp escape her lips.

The two times we had sex, I was in control and she was so shy. But she’s always so responsive, especially when it comes to my own sounds, moves… like she was hanging onto my body’s reactions. And I love it.

She hesitates, but finally, her hands comes to my lower abdomen and it shivers. She bites her lip, brushing lower. My cock starts to harden at her approach.

“Wow” she says. “This is… Wow. Is it always so sensible ?”

“No. This is what you do to me.”

Her fingers shyly touch where I need her and my cock twitches, making her slightly jump. She looks up to search my face and I smile at her.

“I don’t know how to make you feel good” she sighs.

“Just touch me, anywhere you want to. And see what works.”

This is incredibly hot, I don’t know which one of us is the more vulnerable in this scenario but I don’t really care. I thought about it for two days.

She comes closer and kisses my lips, then my jaw, and her lips end on my throat, half kissing, half sucking it. I moan. She takes me in her arms, stroking my hair gently –she always touches my hair-, and I fight myself to stay still.

“You are delicious Dean Winchester” she sighs on my neck.

Her hand come back to my length and wraps around it very gently. I moan and she bites my throat at the sound. She barely dares touching me, discovering me. When she starts stroking me I can feel her hesitation.

“There” I tell her joining her hand to make her grip firmer. “Oh fuck baby I dreamt about this…”

“R-really ?” she stammers looking up in my eyes.

“Yeah” I groan when she starts to move up and down frankly. “Touching myself, imagining it was you. Oh fuck, Jay. There !”

She freezes and looks down to see what made me scream her name. And she does it again, and again, turning me to a panting mess.

“Stop” I beg and she stops.

“Did I hurt you ?”

“No, it’s just… I want more of you than just your hand” I pant.

Surprising me, she takes a step back and takes off her clothe, piece by piece, until she’s in her panties and bra.

“Come here” I say sitting on her bed.

She straddles me and kisses me with passion. My fingers come to her core and she tries to close her legs in reflex as usual, but her knees are on each side of my hips. She’s really wet, and, touching her through the thin fabric, I can feel my hand getting damp.

She can’t kiss me anymore, breathing heavily against my skin, her head fallen on my neck. I hold her tight as I slip my hand in her underwear and slip a finger inside her.

“Dean !” she almost yells.

Her knees crush my hips trying to close, but she starts rubbing against my hand, almost fucking herself on my finger.

“Dean…”

She’s so lost now.

“I’m here”

“Dean… Dean…”

Then I take my hand back suddenly.

She looks at me, all sweaty and perfect and I kiss her while her hips keep on moving to get friction.

“You’re in charge now baby” I smile tenderly, making her eyes widen.

She takes a deep breath and gets up to take her panties down. I reach behind her to open her bra, desperate to touch that skin, tossing it away. When she straddles me again, focused on my crotch, I take one of her nipple on my mouth and the other breast on my hand. Her head and shoulders fall back, trusting me enough to let me catch her before she fells, wrapping one arm around her.

“I love it when you do that” she whispers.

I gently bite her nipple and she grabs my hair again holding my mouth on her soft sensitive skin. Her other hand slips between us, touching herself and brushing me.

“I need you” I say.

I kiss her, biting her lip.

“Right now I need you so much it hurts” I pant.

“It hurts ?” she asks worried.

“Yeah, a little” I admit.

She takes my cock in her trembling hand and guides it to her entrance. Looking deep in my eyes she sinks in me slowly. No pain at all on her face this time, just bliss and a hint of concentration. I grab the sheet to keep myself from thrusting, and drown in the feeling of her clenching walls stretching for me.

She goes all the way down, and I’ve never been so deep inside her. Her stomach is shaking, her hands grip my shoulders. Then she starts to move, in circle at first, making both of us moan and gasp. Then she lifts her hips, taking me almost all the way out to sink again and I groan loudly, I can’t let my hands on the sheet anymore, my arms clasp her strongly. She does it again, quicker. And again…

As my vision goes blurry I suck a hickey on her neck.

“Dean, I… I can’t…” she whines;

Her legs are getting weak as her growing orgasm is sucking all her energy.

“It’s okay” I say positioning myself. “You’re perfect…”

I start to thrust upward, making her gasp. I really try my best not to go to hard, but I’m going crazy seeing her this close to her relief, chest and neck bright red, mouth open, breast dancing with our movements. I know I might be a little too rough.

“Are you okay baby ?” I pant, holding back the most I can.

She doesn’t answer, she just swears in silent, her head falling on my shoulder, speaking incoherent prayers in each shaky breath.

This is too much and when she clenches around me a little too hard, I come groaning loud, filling her with my cum as I realize we didn’t use protection. I don’t know if it’s my own orgasm than triggers her but she comes harder than she ever did, scratching my back.

When we both get down from our high enough to talk I tell her.

“We didn’t use a condom, baby.”

“I’m on pill now” she smiles in bliss.

She gets up and my cum comes down her thigh. She looks at it for a moment, not knowing what to do and I smile, getting up to grab the towel I left on the floor, I wipe her gently and she closes her eyes.

“I missed you” she says.

“I missed you more… I don’t want us to be apart again” I kiss her with all my heart. “Maybe we don’t have to be apart…”

Feedback is what keeps me going :)

@tftumblin @mirandaaustin93

#supernatural #supernatural fic #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester fic #smut #fluff #spn #spn fanfic

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quokkalatte · 5 years

Text

Shot for Shot [K.NJ]

Category: One Shot

Pairing: Mafia!Namjoon x Female!Reader

Summary: After seeing something you shouldn't have seen you were taken by a group of the most hostile Mafia tycoons, but what happens after is quite unexpected

Warnings: Gang Violence, mentions of blood, light smut, mentions of torture, torture, slight secular harassment

Warnings for this chapter: Gang violence, mentions of blood

Requested by: @yer-cute-when-you-scream

Authors note: sorry this took me so long to post!

[Based off my Number Scenarios 11, 13, 15, & 27]

× × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × × ×

I was always told the nights of Seoul were the most dangerous and brutal time to be out. I never believed that. I found them to be serene and quiet, lacking the crazy, packed people coming and going and the loud honking of cars. I didn't realize that the quiet was simply a disguise used by those who knew how to maneuver through the city without notice and commit crimes that show up in the headlines of papers the next morning. And I didn't realize that I'd become part of those headlines.

It was the first actual warm night of the year. The dwindling winter being replaced by spring was apparent, there was even a slight buzz that singled spring rain. I'd just wanted to get some Happy Hour pancakes as a nearby diner. They were always half off on account of the time being so late and no one was really out and about as of the crime rate being high. Of course I was nieve. Sure I'd read about the tragic deaths and disappearances on the news. But I always thought 'that could never happen to me'. I was wrong.

The diner was mainly emptied save for a couple of college kids pushing some more hours of studying before finals. I'd eaten my pancakes and chatted with Hoseok, the only employee crazy enough to enjoy night shifts. He went on endlessly about his day and the different people coming in and I just smiled and nodded and put in my two cents. I just enjoyed hearing him talk, he always seemed to get excited for the smallest things people pass up on.

It was nearing one in the morning when I finally left the Diner, promising Hoseok I'd be there for breakfast the following morning. The air was warm and slightly humid and felt good against the bare skin of my arms. I put my hands in my pockets and turned the street corner towards my apartment. I walked passed an alleyway, and heard a commotion behind me, muffled grunts and a loud bang of a trashcan. I frown, turning around and glanced warily towards the opening of the alley. Every instinct told me to run, but I was always naturally curious, and it sounded like someone was being hurt. I approached the left side of the building, gripping the brick walls to peer around the corner, just a peek. To see what was going on.

There were three men, all dressed in black. One with a shock of bleach blonde hair, two others with black hair. They were kicking kicking a fourth man on the ground, stomping into his body and cries were muffled by a bandana shoved into his mouth. My eyes widened, and I covered my mouth to hide a gasp at the sight. The blonde grabbed the beaten man by his shirt and slammed him into the wall with such force I thought the building gave a small shake, but it was only me. I was so frozen stiff with fear for this poor man. The blonde pulled a gun from his hip and pressed it to the man's throat, a cold smirk on his face.

"Give a message to Anjo for me. This is what happens when I'm shorted. I want what I paid for, and then some to repay for this insult. I won't be this lenient again" He growls in a deep voice. The man nodded mutely, and the blonde stepped back, and with no one holding him uptight, the assaulted man fell to ground in a lump.

One of the black haired men took a drag of a cigarette, and flicked the ashes onto the fallen man and let out a chuckle. The blonde patted the two on the shoulder

"Come on let's go. Namjoon will want to hear our progress report" He says, and they turn for the entrance. I backed away from the wall, just as they came under the light of the street lamps. Of course they immediately saw me, and by the look of fear and shock on my face they all realized what I'd just seen. The blonde let out a angry cry and I turned heel and took off down the street.

My feet slammed on the pavement and I could hear the stomping of the men behind me. I turned down the block then cut through a small park. Trees rushed passed me as I tried to dodge their persuit, and I looked behind me to see that they were hot on my heels. Of course this meant I didn't see what was in front of me until I ran into the fence that enclosed the park. I let out a gasp of pain and I fell backwards and onto the ground, the breath knocked out me. They were on in an instant, grabbing me and dragged me to my feet. The blonde stood in front of me, surveying me. The one to my right spoke up

"What do we do Yoongi? She saw us" He said. The blonde, I guess the one called Yoongi, watched me carefully.

"We'll take her to Namjoon. It's his call" He says slowly, his face I passive.

"Please don't tell him" I begged, trying to tug out of my captor's grips. "I won't tell anyone"

"They always say that, and then they turn around and rat to the cops. No, we'll take to to our boss. It's his call" Yoongi says, and gestures for the other two to bring me to their van.

From then I was blindfolded and cuffed. I sat between two of them. Fear ate away at me and I shivered to imagine what their boss Namjoon would do to me. From the stories in the papers I've read, the mafia were never soft and forgiving. Witnesses were left in gutters and in dumpsters. This thought didn't settle my nerves and I was on the verge of tears.

They put me in a room, tied me to a chair and took the blindfold off. The room was dimly lit and there were mysterious stains on the floor, dark red and looked suspiciously like blood.

"Is that blood?" I whispered, horror in my tone.

"Among other things" Yoongi says, sounding bored. My eyes widened and I didn't dare speak again. A knock on the door signaled a fourth person had joined the three. When he walked in, my breath was taken away. His tan skin contrasted with his bleached hair. His suit was sharp his brown eyes were curious. His gaze was immediately on me, and he straighten up.

"Leave us" He says firmly and the three leave without a word. My eyes went to the floor, to the probable blood stains, which didn't help my heart rate. I could feel it in my throat, and I became very aware that this was the leader and then of all the things he could do to me. Tears welled in my eyes, that this may be the last night I'll ever live.

Gentle fingers pushed my chin up and I met soft eyes.

"Pretty girls shouldn't cry" He says, wiping away a tear that had escaped down my cheek. I whimpered at his touch, and he gripped my by my chin. "Yoongi tells me you saw the little show earlier tonight"

"I didn't mean to, really. I was walking home and heard noises in the alley" I mumble

"You should have kept walking princess. Save you some few trouble you've gotten yourself into" He says

"Now you tell me" I say, a slight whimper in my you voice. Namjoon nods, leaving away from me. He folded his arms over his chest, a thoughtful look on his face.

"Now I just have to decide what to do with you" he says, and my eyes widened.

"Please don't kill me" I whisper desperately. "I'll do anything, I swear" Namjoon raised his eyebrows.

"Anything?" He hummed, and I nodded "Well, how about a date then?" He asks. I stared at him in shock.

"W-What?" I gaped.

"You said anything. Let me take you out" he says.

"You don't want me to have sex with you? Or blow you or anything?" I say. He snorts

"We just met sweetheart. I'm not that type of guy. Let me take you to dinner and I'll let you live."

"O-Okay" I say, and Namjoon's face split into a wide smile, flashing his dimples happily.

"Excellent"

× × × × × ×

That was over a year ago. Namjoon drove me home that night, and picked me up later that day for a date. He was dressed casual, a button up blue shirt and black slacks.

"Where are you taking me?" I'd asked as he led me to a nice looking car.

"Dinner and a movie if that's alright with you kitten" He said, opening the door for me like a proper gentleman

The restaurant hadn't been overly fancy, Namjoon admitting that he had wanted to take me somewhere fancy, but his funds were short this month due to a few problems he didn't disclose. I told him that it was quite alright, flashy things made me uncomfortable, especially in the beginning of a date.

He had asked me questions, about myself and your hobbies, what classes I'd taken in college, small things. He listened intently, and even looked like he was interested in what I'd had to say.

"I wanted to do music," Namjoon told me when I'd'd ask what he did while in college . "But everyone seemed to tell me it was a dead end, so I dropped it" he shrugged, taking a bite of his food. I frowned, eyebrows nitting together.

"You shouldn't have given up if you wanted to do it" I say and he shrugs again

"It's okay. If I hadn't had dropped out, then I wouldn't have ended up taking the path I did. And I wouldn't have had the opportunity to meet" he smiled softly, and my cheeks flushing bright pink

"Namjoon we've only just met" I tried to argue "In the most weirdest of circumstances" His dimples came out as he grinned

"And I like you already. I consider myself lucky I got to take you out" he says, a tad but smugly

"You blackmailed me, remember?"I point out

"I don't see you complaining though" he retorts, and he had me there.

The movie wasn't some cheesy Rom Com or horror movie tatic to comfort the scared girl. It was an action comedy, right up my alley. It was like he knew me already. I enjoyed the movie and raved about it afterwards when Namjoon was driving me home. The entire time Namjoon remained quiet, a smile on his face as he listened to me. I had smack his arm lightly,

"Are you even listening?" I laughed and he smiled lightly

"I'm hanging on every word" He says truthfully

Hands wrapped around my waist, startling me and I dropped the dishes I'd been washing. There was deep chuckle from behind me, and a warm kiss was placed on my neck.

"Did mean to startle you kitten" he hummed. I smile, turning around in his arms and pressed a kiss to his awaiting lips. He pulled me closer and nuzzled into my neck when we pulled away. "What were you so deep in thought about?" He asked

"How we met" I say and he laughed, pressing another kiss into my neck

"I remember that. You were downright terrified and you looked so innocent and cute" I huff against his chest and felt the vibrations of a chuckle. He pressed a lingering kiss into my hair, and I knew that meant he was going out again.

"I'll be home late" he says, his words muffled by my hair. I frown, looking up at him.

"I thought you had the night off?" I ask, a bit disappointed. He'd been so busy lately and while I appreciated and respected what he did for a living, but I missed his warmth at night.

"I did but something came up. Anjo wants to have a.... calm discussion" His voice turned cold and I raise my eyebrows.

"Namjoon that worries me. There have been several disappearances as of late. Remember Taehyung was almost taken by his thugs just the other night." I say in protest. He sighs, fingers playing with the hem of my shirt and he nods.

"That's why we're meeting up. Come to some kind of agreement and get his goonies off our back. They did a number on Jimin, he's so jumpy now" My mind went to after Jimin had been taken and questioned a month ago. He was dumped behind my favorite Diner, bruised and bloody and shaking. He'd had a long cut down his face, a scar he'd probably have forever.

"I remember" I mumble. "You better be safe Kim Namjoon or I'll go in there myself and give Anjo a piece of my mind" I threaten, and Namjoon laughs, placing a kiss on my lips

"That's something I'd love to see. We'll be okay kitten don't you worry" We kissed, his head tilting to get a better angle. I let out a soft moan and he grunted, his hands gripping my hips. A knock on the door caused us to pull away, and a second later Yoongi and Jin walked in. Yoongi smirked when he saw us and Jin blushed darkly. "Bye kitten. I'll be home soon" Namjoon murmurs, before leaving with the other two.

I stepped out of the shower, wringing my hair dry and searched for my pajamas. I was worried for Namjoon, he'd been gone a couple of hours and while I knew that it may take longer, until he came home.

I slipped on one of his t-shirts and a pair of shorts before climbing into bed. I scrolled through my phone, trying to pass the time before I was tired enough to fall asleep. A creaking noise caused me to freeze. I stared at my closed door, and heard another creak. I turned off my phone, hand slipping under the mattress for the gun Namjoon had put down there in case I needed help. I gripped it, flipping off the safety and tried to calm my pounding heart.

The creaks grew louder, mixed with the sounds of heavy footsteps. The door slammed open and I screamed, aiming the gun and squeezing the trigger. The bang was loud, and jolted me off the bed. The man gave a cry, and clutched at his shoulder. Two more men came in, and I aimed at them. One was quicker, and grabbed my wrist and twisted it until I cried out and dropped the gun. The other came and grabbed me around during the middle and I kicked and screamed, scratching at his back. He hissed in pain and I kneed him in the gut and it sent us both crashing to the ground.

I shoved past as one tried to grab me and I took off down the hall and out the broken down front door. I heard thuds and curses as I knew they were following me. I ran down the steps two at a time, and I ran out the apartment lobby. A dark van was parked there and I skidded to a halt, the bottoms of my feet scratching against the asphalt. Two more men got out of the car, and lunged at me. They grabbed me and I fought against them, biting and scratching and raising bloody murder. In the distance I saw a familiar figure walking down the road and I screamed as they shoved me into the van. The other three men clambered in after me and the van took off with a screech down the road.

#bts #bts jin #bts rap monster #bts namjoon #bts hoseok #bts ships #bts smut #bts suga #bts jhope #bts j-hope #bts jungkook #bts jimin #bts v #bts yoongi

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futurewriter2000 · 5 years

Text

So my brain did the thing and started to think too much. Here's everything I just thought in 30 minutes.

Parenting

I sat there, eating my lunch when I started to think about the time I was in Croatia with my family, eating in a hotel. And I wanted to think of anything else of that time but couldn't. Why? Because bad memories have overtaken all the good ones. I kept remembering the bad memories and never even once thought of the good ones that happened there. I was a kid. Maybe 6 years old and I can't remember a single thing.

Why?

Because my dad was "strict". And by "strict" I mean he was always yelling for every little thing that went wrong. And he was so terryfying to me that I kept being afraid to talk outloud, afraid to say the wrong thing just to be yelled at. I was afraid.

And I grew up an over-weight kid. Why? Because I ate lunch in school and when I came home my dad forced me to eat with them. "Family thing". And I was afraid to say no so I don't get yelled at. And if I couldn't finish. If I left more than half of the plate full I got yelled at. So I forced myself to eat and resulted into being over-weight and having stomach issues.

I didn't talk much. I was always afraid of being yelled at. I was a shy kid. I didn't want to say the wrong thing. Afraid for people to take it offensively and yell at me.

I kept being afraid and soon from that shy kid grew up a woman who realised that she will never EVER let her kids be afraid of her. She doesn't want them to fear her. She wants them to respect her, without using screaming and shouting as a way to do it.

Islands

Yeah. I know. How could I come from parenting to islands. Well, listen up.

My dad was searching for a tv program and there was some documentary on sea and navy life on National Geographic. And I turned around and saw these beautiful islands but since everybody keep posting on facebook that 10 year posts about how everything went wrong from 2009 to 2019 I kept thinking.

And at some point I came to a conclusion that what did the dinosaurs do to get what they did? Going extinct. Maybe they messed with the natural balance? Maybe there is so much more to them that we do not know.

So if universe, the light, God, whatever you want to call that higher power if it did that to dinasours...belueve it or not it could be in few years or in few months,days or even a minute after you read this...a comet to wipe us from the earth and let the new population in million and million years scratch up our remains, calling us fosils.

And so I thought of everything I have been doing and there was this time where I wanted to throw this paper on the ground but somehow finding a trashcan and threw it there and for a small, tiny moment there was a voice in the back of my head saying " She says thank you." and idk why it felt like that or anything but I just felt better. It's stupid I know but it felt good, honestly. Just take care of nature and nature will take care of you.

Education

Just going to say it. Education is everything. And before you start to believe otherwise, education is different in every country. Not everything is strict like in your country, not everything is as bad as in your country, or good school sytem or too many work...but believe once you got education it's not only better for your future and your carrier. It's better for you. The more you know the better.

Back in 2nd year of highschool I sidn't know how to express myself because to be honest...I didn't know a lot of words. But then I started to read a lot. And I mean A LOT and i swear to you I sometimes surprise myself with big and long words I didn't know I knew. You feel smarter, more intelligent. And it's a good feeling. It's a GREAT feeling.

And there are people that just don't care and they act like such gangstas...like my sister. She curses fluently but she can't tell me three sentaces without stuttering or pausing for 2 minutes in between. And sometimes I say something at her and she looks at me with a confused look in her eyes and asks me what that word means. The more words you know the faster you think and the faster you think the sooner you get to realize situations and problems.

I'm just saying you can not go to school and still be intelligent. I'm saying about education being important, not school. And my best friend doesn't go to school but is quite mature and is really intelligent but there comes times that she should really reconsider school for her future. Because education is so important in the world that if you ever want a job that you wanted when you were a little kid, education is really a way to do it. Don't rely on movies you see on TV or biographies of people who lived in different times and suceeded. Rely on yourself and rely on education. It's better for you not only for the carrier.

Thats pretty much it what happened in my brain for half an hour. Wouldn't believe what happens 24hours.

#parenting #islands #nature #education #school system

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seungkwanslowqualityenglish · 6 years

Text

VIXX reacting to their partner pranking them.

Sorry this took a while, and also I changed girlfriend into partner to make it more gender neutral. - Jae

N - Your prank on N wasn’t really a prank you had planned, he had been gone for about nine months, due to a world tour. The prank was really the idea of his nieces and nephews, and you were just like sure, let’s prank him. Upon coming home, the first thing he saw was like four little children running around calling you mom/dad, and a baby in your arms. His first thought was literally why the hell did they adopt five children when I wasn’t here. He would be lowkey freaking out about how you’ve adopted five kids while he was gone, honestly not even realizing how much they look like him. The kids would also start calling him dad, since you know it was their idea all along. He would spend the whole day freaking out, about this. It isn’t until his sisters come to get their children, and they finally call him Uncle Hakyeon, and you aunt/uncle as they leave, that he finally realizes just how much the children look like him. He’d honestly be mad that you’d prank him like that, but once you explain how it was his oldest nephew/niece’s idea and the rest just went along with it, he’d finally find it hilarious, how they seemed to know how he’d react to it and all.

Leo - When Leo woke up, he was suspicious after seeing you already up, since usually he’ll have to coerce you to wake you up. It made him even more suspicious seeing you drinking your coffee/tea from a bowl, yet, he ignored the suspicion just assuming you were being weird again. Upon opening the cabinet, seeing only cups, plates, and bowls, he turned towards you. “A bit muggy out today isn’t it.” You simply said, not acknowledging the look he gave you, just sipping at your tea/coffee again. He didn’t say it allowed, yet you heard Leo murmur under his breath, “I swear if all our mugs are in the yard.” Moments later, you heard a muffled scream, Leo was trying to contain his anger as to not scare the neighbors, their children, or their pets. Not even moments later, he started carrying mugs in, while murmuring that he was gonna have to wash all the damn mugs. He’d honestly give you the silent treatment, well until he finally admitted it was a kinda funny joke since it was muggy out, he’ll sorta laugh about it, but he’s still mad about having to wash all the mugs.

Ken - Your prank on Ken had been a bit more gradual than most of the other pranks you have pulled on him. Ken liked to put up photos of him and you around you apartment, starting a few weeks ago, you had slowly started replacing photos of you two, with photos of Nicolas Cage. He hadn’t noticed, or if he had, he never said anything. Today was the day you had finally changed every single photo of him or you or both, to Nicolas Cage. The last photo was the one by your bed, and as you changed it, you knew he’d finally realize what you had been doing. You sadly had to work that night, yet, luckily for you, the two of you had put surveillance cameras throughout your house as a precaution. As he came home that night from practice, showering before climbing into bed, you found it sweet how he always told the photo of you he kept by his bed goodnight, well it was until he turned and looked at the photo, noticing the photo wasn’t you looking surprised. In his fatigue he fell asleep before he thought to call you. Yet, come morning, after you had already came back home and switched all the photos back, he finally remembered the photo of the odd looking man staring back at him where a photo of you usually did. As he brought it up, you acted confused, pointing out how the photo in the frame was of you. He honestly just thought maybe he was so out of it, he imagined seeing all the photos of Nicolas Cage, instead of you and him. Yet, when he went into the kitchen and found the trashcan full of photos of Nicolas Cage, since you had forgotten to take the trash out, he realized he wasn’t out of it, and you might have sparked a prank war with him.

Ravi - Your prank on Ravi was really just little things. You put sugar in the flour container, flour in the sugar container, you had mixed cheese mix from mac and cheese into water and poured it into an empty orange juice bottle, and so forth. It’s early morning and he’s not fully awaken when he realizes things aren’t going right. Like the ‘sugar’ didn’t dissolve into his coffee, the orange juice tasted weird, and so forth. Thinking he might just not be fully awake, so he instead decided to take a shower, not thinking much of it. As he showered you switched the labels on everything back, along with pouring out the cheese juice and putting the actual orange juice bottle into the fridge. It wasn’t until he saw the empty orange juice bottle in the trash, that he realized that something wasn’t off, he was angry for a moment, angered at how you would do that to him, especially in the morning. Yet, as he realized he himself would also do something like that, his anger faded, as he started slightly laughing, planning how he’d get you back.

Hongbin - While Hongbin slept, you switched all his clothing with different clothing in all shades of his least favorite colors. When you woke him up, as usual, you watched as he went into his closet, picking items as he usually does in his morning stupor. It wasn’t until he got dressed and went into the kitchen, making breakfast with you, that he realized what he was wearing. Part of you expected him to yell, he just shrugged, checking himself out in the mirror. “You should have known this wasn’t a good prank, like nothing looks bad on me, you should know that at this point.” He simply said, before going about his day. Honestly, you realized in hindsight this wasn’t a really good prank. He honestly always looked great in everything, so it wasn’t like the clothing would make him look bad, plus even in the items he picked, he still looked real damn good.

Hyuk - When Hyuk had played the first prank on you, putting peanut-butter/butter in your house-shoes, he didn’t expect you to retaliate, yet you did. The great thing about dating Hyuk is him being able to get you stuff from the top shelf, his height, that’s pretty much the greatest thing. You used that height and his early morning stupor to your advantage. Waking up earlier than usual, you put a layer of plastic wrap on a few doors that you’d run though, in running to the kitchen. After waking him up, by pouring water on him, he runs after you, running into the first layer of plastic wrap. Still being half asleep he runs into again, tearing through it. When he finally gets to the kitchen, you see many of the layers of plastic wrap in his hand, and him suddenly fully away. After he throws it away, he glares at you momentarily, letting you know that you have sparked a prank war.

#vixx #jae #reaction #leo #hyuk #hongbin #n #ravi #ken

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argentarium · 7 years

Text

kara sevda (4) ↠ stilinski

author ; fessa

rating ; 18+ nsfw

pairing ; fuckboy!stiles X oc!reader

word count ; 1987

warnings ; angst?? , i cant even tell you this time idk how i feel about this part, i feel like this is trash except the dream scene but oh well

a/n ; wait… did you guys really think i wasn’t going to post another part? well you were wrong.. don’t ever judge a book by it’s cover

i. ii. iii. -

*not my gif*

kara sevda

/noun/

1. blinding love;

literally translates as “black love”

The blaring noise of his alarm clock caused the spastic boy to jerk awake from his recurring dream. As he sat up, he clutched his head in his hand, wiping up the cold sweat, thinking of the details and trying to remember if anything changed.

Your voice echoed through his ears as a light giggle caused him to sit up in his bed. His room was no longer the same; everything was pure white: the walls, his blankets, his pillows, and even his clothes. Stiles was naturally inquisitive and, as curious as his white-washed bedroom was, he could not help but follow the sweet, soft and inviting sound of your laughter.

Slowly, the familiar giggle began to die down, but he could not let go of your voice. He felt compelled to pursue it, not wanting the precious noise that was your laughter to leave his ears. Stiles rushed to his door and swung it open, revealing not his hallway but a golden light, shimmering in his eyes. He held up his hand, blocking out some of the rays, but his eyes still squinted as he began walking a few steps and found himself inside a grand meadow of beautiful, blooming, blue jasmine.

Your melodic laughter made contact with his ears again, and the instinct to find you overtook him again. He scanned the meadow until he laid his eyes upon you. You were across the field, decorating a young lamb with flowers, nurturing the small creature with your gentle touch. Stiles, however, was not just watching your actions, he was gazing at you with awe. He found himself entranced with the way your head fell back, laughing more when the lamb nibbled at you as your natural hair reflected the warm light. All the bright hues of azure contrasted with your long, ivory dress – which Stiles worried would get dirty from the grass – and he was truly able to see you happy.

You never looked like this before and never in his life had he seen you look so beautiful. Stiles had never seen your hair down before and he had never seen you calm either, it was always homework, quizzes, and tests which always had to not just be passed, but absolutely aced.

“Stiles!” He heard you call out, causing him to snap out of his trance. “Stiles! Come help me add more flowers!” He saw you flashing a kind and warm smile towards him. Stiles could not and would not say no for anything in the world. Nothing was going to stop him from being with you now that he finally saw you, for what you really were: radiating beauty, inside and out.

Once he finally reached you, he watched you stand up and brush off a bit of debris that had caught on your dress. You leaned back down and picked a flower out of the earth next to you. You held it out, delicately brushing the petals out before looking up at him. “I picked this one just for you. It’s the most beautiful one here, don’t you think?” You said softly, holding it out for him. “You deserve the best, Stiles. Here.” Stiles did not have to think twice about taking the flower.

As soon as he went to grasp the flower, however, something else happened. The flower disappeared and a wooden stake appeared to be tightly held in his hand, already have impaled your chest. Stiles’s eyes widened in disbelief, “No, no, Y/N, I swear I didn’t-”

“Why did you do this to me, Stiles?” You sobbed between coughing spurts of blood. “What have you done?” Stiles looked between you and the lamb, which was quickly dying too. The harmless creature looked as if it was stabbed along with you as it laid on its side with a large gash in its stomach. From the lamb’s stomach oozed something other than blood but some type of black substance. Stiles looked from the lamb back to you in shock and horror.

You were hunched over, tear stains all over your face, your throat burning from the coughing up of the metallic liquid on your tongue. Your pure white dress was no longer pure, nor was the beautiful field. It was now a dark, inhabitable area with bats flying around, bothering the corpse of the lamb. Stiles lurched forward suddenly, seeing as you were about to topple over. He caught you in his arms and held you, letting your head rest on his knees as he caressed your face. “No, no, no, stay with me Min, stay with me..” Stiles began to cry. Your breaths became weaker, and more blood spurted out of your mouth involuntarily. “No! Don’t do this Y/N, don’t-”

“Rise and shine, kid, it’s time to go to school.” Noah announced resting on the doorframe, knocking on the door, coffee in hand. “I’m heading down to the station, make sure to be on time for school.”

Lifting up his head, Stiles flashed a flat smile to his dad, waving the sheriff off. Stiles sighed, pushing himself off of his bed and picking up a few shirts lying around his room, sniffing them until he came across one which did not reek lacrosse as much as the others.

Stiles’s days were dark, ever since his mistake he had been spiraling. He promised himself he would not have sex with you because if he did, he would know that everything would be ruined. He reminded himself day by day to not even try anything on you since you were the only girl who was truly in his life considering that Lydia barely acknowledged him and Allison did not count.

It wasn’t like he was desperate but he knew he couldn’t get a girl to stay. It didn’t take him so long to make himself a sex legend in the school, but that was all he had because other than that he was just a nerdy kid, the bench warmer, and the slowest runner on the lacrosse team. He couldn’t impress any girl with his spastic, know-it-all personality enough to make them stay.

With this being said, if Stiles couldn’t just entice one of the many girls he has been with, how was he ever going to make you stay?

What seemed like a headstrong, cocky, egotistical high school fuckboy was all a lie but he was an insecure boy with attachment issues. Stiles believed one way or another, no matter what you did to even protest, you would leave him for what he did to you

He simply stopped the inevitable from happening by just ripping off the bandaid now. The pain lasts for a moment before you don’t even remember why it hurt.. but why was he still hurting?

Dwelling on the thought made him want to try to get you back. And Stiles wanted you to be his best friend but he broke a promise to himself, doing the unthinkable to you. You were a piece of artwork, only to gaze at, not to touch.

Stiles felt no different than anytime else. School hadn’t changed, coach hadn’t changed, and he simply was stuck in this stagnant point where he was so fixated on being indifferent.

Stiles was walking out of chemistry when he noticed something did not feel right. He noticed you were not in class like how he noticed every single time you were absent otherwise yet he still forced his toxic self to stay away from you. As he was treading along the hallways of Beacon Hills High School, he noticed the janitor rummaging through your locker.

Somehow, the mere act of invasion sparked something in the teenager which was not present in his system for weeks. A mild fury rushed over him as his facial features contorted to fit this slightest bit of emotion he finally revealed.

“Hey! What the hell do you think you’re doing?!” Stiles jabbed at the worker. “You can’t just go through someone’s stuff, that’s invasion of privacy!”

The janitor sighed boredly, turning to the overzealous boy. “I’m just doing my job, kid.” He shrugged, pulling out pieces of papers and dropping them in the trashcan next to him.

“Well, she’s going to come back and see all her stuff has disappeared!” Stiles hissed, placing his hands on his hips as he waited for the janitor to stop his actions.

“How would she know if it disappeared if she does not go to this school anymore?” The janitor sassed at Stiles, rolling his eyes as he tugged a random picture off of locker door and let it fall in the trash.

Stiles’s eyes softened, his head slightly tilting, “What?” He whispered in a faint tone.

“Listen, kid,” The janitor began as he reached in his pocket and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper, showing off what looked like a list of chores, “Whoever this is left the school,” he pointed to the specific point on the list, “and this whole thing has everything I need to finish today so if you could just get to class, my life would be much easier.”

Stiles was in the midst of shock as he stared at the middle-aged man. He did not expect you to leave Beacon Hills, let alone not even mention it. Then again, Stiles remembered everything he said to you and instantly regretted it.

“Uh.. Why don’t you just do whatever’s next on your list, I can finish this for you.” Stiles offered, his eyes locking on the picture the janitor set in the trash bin.

“Aren’t you supposed to be in-“

“Great! So by the time you’re back this will be all cleaned out!” Stiles faked his eagerness as he pushed in the way of the janitor and began to take out loads of papers, which created more of a mess.

The janitor put his hands up in surrender, “Alright, kid, have at it.” He sighed, walking away. “Weird…” he muttered under his breath and Stiles snapped his head towards him and glared at the back of the man’s head.

Stiles soon forgot about the janitor and reached in the trashcan, pulling out the photo strip from a photobooth you two created a memory at. Stiles reminisced on that day, he remembered going ice skating with Lydia, Allison, and Scott, having a blast spending time with his crush until Lydia had some sort of episode. He knew he had to take you with him one day and he did, and he admit to himself he had a much better time with you.

It was a continuous cycle, a picture or a pen, even a piece of paper with writing triggered a memory of when he was still your best friend. He stood there the whole class period, not caring if he skipped or what the consequences were. All the bottled up emotions were seeping through and he did not want to make it stop.

As soon as the bell rang, Scott came walking out of his class and walked down the halls to his next class. He wanted to see his best friend again, to see how he was doing or if he was any better today than the other days. As Scott was nearing his next class he saw Stiles against a vacant locker, staring at something in his hands.

Scott walked up to Stiles to see what he was up to. Once Scott got closer he was able to notice the glossiness in Stiles’s eyes and feel his sorrow while he took a look at the strip of pictures.

Scott was eventually going to tell Stiles about your leave but he was beat to it. He looked between the motionless Stiles and the picture before clearing his throat, “Hey.” He said simply, waiting for Stiles to yell at him for not saying anything to him.

Stiles quietly turned to Scott, his eyes teary, “I messed up.”

tags :) ; @squirels-angels-and-moose @were-cheetah-stiles @shameless-danni @danopeg @aestheticallytrashysunflower @lcnelykth @rememberstilinski @wydobrien @amethystmerm4id @charmedjeri @itskatiemahoney @leilaelizabth @pufflethehuff @parislight @unfoxs @infinitydunbar @ellie-bee242 @iknowisoundcrazy @mieczzyslaw @gluetwentyfourobrien @xqueenarianax @danielisnotonbranding @iknowisoundcrazy @surpeme-bean @maddie110201 @danny-the-coolest @stilinski-lover-24 @vogue-sweetie @stilinski-stydia-obrien @codysdimples @awkwarddly @xmadwonderland @oneshot-obsessed

and an amazing special thank you & dedication to cat ( @were-cheetah-stiles ) because without her, i wouldnt have made it through in terms of writing this part

#teen wolf #stiles stilinski #kara sevda #teen wolf imagines #teen wolf images #Stiles #Stilinski

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