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ozzgin · 3 months

Note

Hii I was wondering if u could do a yandere Kazuya x yn x yandere Daitou I’m not sure if u do character x yn x character tho

Yandere! Yakuza x Reader Spinoff

Two yakuza men who have fallen in love with their new foreign tenant. A what-if spinoff to the original story for that love triangle spice. Happy Valentine's Day!

Content: female reader, NSFW, organized crime, obsessive behavior, violence, BDSM themes (choking), threats

Credits: My boyfriend for giving me the Daitou smut idea

[Main Story] [General Headcanons]

Kazuya is sitting on the sidewalk, checking his watch occasionally and tapping his foot. The cigarette seems to have been forgotten, hanging lowly from his lips.

"Sorry I'm late." Daitou speedily makes his way towards his friend, smiling awkwardly.

"Where the fuck were you, man? We don't know how much time we have before the cops arrive."

"Uh uh, leave it to me." The cheeky grin doesn't leave his face as he pulls out his gun and carefully but swiftly inspects the barrel and safety one final time. "(Y/N) needed some help with the mailbox. I couldn't just say no, ya know?"

The blonde man's eyebrows raise for a second, but he quickly recollects himself.

"I see. That's good."

"She asked me to show her the area tomorrow, so I'll be working extra hard tonight. Hehe."

"That's good."

Daitou glances at Kazuya, somewhat wary.

"You okay?"

Stupid question. What's he supposed to answer? Yeah, he loves waiting like a dumbass while his friend flirts with the new tenant, who conveniently happens to be a cute foreigner, who's been unexpectedly nice and relaxed around them despite them explicitly stating they're part of the Japanese mafia. Fucking hell. It doesn't help that this idiot is as obvious as a blaring, blinding cluster of ads smack in the middle of Kabukicho. He can tell from miles away that Daitou's completely fallen for her. Just like that, in an instant.

They've been partners and best friends for years now, so the natural reaction would be happiness, right? Daitou has always been one scary motherfucker. Even the seniors scramble when he's in the room, let alone women. For him to find someone that isn't bothered the slightest by his appearance or background should be a celebratory occasion. Kazuya should be rooting for him. Except, well, he fell for you just as hard. Tough luck.

The Bushido moral code, often used as guidance within their own lifestyle, covers matters such as loyalty and honesty quite extensively. A true warrior remains fiercely faithful to his master or companions. And yet, love interests are more of a grey area, especially if they happen to overlap. Who dictates the proper etiquette for this dilemma? To whom is loyalty directed towards? Truth be told, Kazuya couldn’t care less. He’s always been a man of vice, impulsive and greedy. If he wants something, he takes it.

The trouble starts when the other person is of the same mindset. Two ferocious predators eyeing the same victim.

***

You fiddle next to the tall, dark-haired man. Similarly, Daitou is avoiding eye contact, looking around in hopes of finding something to focus on. It’s the first time he’s come over since the incident. After his little mission with Kazuya, he was tasked to “interrogate” some of the remaining members to get even more names for the hitlist. He’d completely forgotten about his promise to show you the neighborhood. Hands sticky with blood, he was in the middle of his signature act of benevolence, putting the lad out of his misery.

It was around that time you decided to be the one picking him up instead, for your grand tour. Your knocks on the door remained unheard, however, so you decided to politely make your way in.

“Sorry, I hope I’m not-”

You froze in place. A man (you assumed at least based on the few visible traits left), tied up on the chair, canvas bag roped around his head. Daitou’s hands were secured around his throat. In the few seconds of silence, you could hear a muffled wheezing, as the stranger’s chest heaved in short convulsions.

“-intruding.” You mumbled, regaining your speech.

He messed up, didn’t he? Daitou sighs and slicks his hair back. He can’t blame you if you’re now terrified of him. He had to come over for some tenant checkups and you’ve been maintaining a safe distance from him during his entire visit. What can he possibly tell you? “Hey, I know I threatened to chop you up and you’ve now witnessed firsthand I’m a legit murderer, but, uh…I have a crush on you? Dinner at seven?”

You’re terrified alright, but not of his deeds. Rather, your newly discovered perversion as a consequence of the gory scene. It’s not that you relished in the torment of another. It’s the other details that left you reminiscing. Daitou’s imposing frame, the unbuttoned shirt revealing his traditional tattoos glistening in beads of sweat, his flexed, brawny arms, and large hands. You’re scared of your shamelessness. It can’t be normal. Yet you can’t stop thinking about it. Just a glimpse into this memory and your cheeks become burning red.

“I’ll be on my way then”, the yakuza announces politely.

Though he immediately stops in his tracks, and you realize you’ve unconsciously grabbed onto his sleeve. Uh oh. What now? You mumble an apology without releasing your hold. Being this close to him makes your heart drum inside your chest.

To hell with it.

“I might say something terribly inappropriate right now, but…”

“Sorry?” He stares at you, dumbfounded.

“Do you have anything planned after this?” You ask quietly.

“N-no?”

“Would you mind staying over?”

“Huh? Sure…w-what for?” His mouth is dry, and he searches your eyes in confusion.

“You know…” Choke me until I pass out and such, you think to yourself sarcastically.

He turns to face you, lips pursed awkwardly.

“You’ll have to be clear with me, Miss (Y/N). I’m not good with all this tiptoeing around and I might get the wrong idea.”

Your ears perk up hearing his final words, a deep blush now spreading over your flustered features.

“What wrong idea?”

Daitou fidgets with his glass prosthetic nervously.

“Well, uh, a man can only dream, ya know? Especially around a cute girl like you.” He reveals with a stutter.

“Suppose I’d be willing to go along with anything on your mind. What then?” You twirl your hair, gazing shyly at the floor. Not even you can believe the audacity leaving your lips.

The tall man steps before you, towering above with a certain gleam in his eye. It’s yearning. Your knees weaken.

“Don’t tease me, please. I can hardly control myself around you as it is.”

You release his sleeve and instead cling onto his shirt with both hands, looking up through your lashes.

“I’m dead serious.”

He ponders his next move with a click of the tongue, then cups your cheeks between his hands and lowers himself until his hot breath tickles your nose.

“Are you? There’s no going back after this. Can you handle it?” His voice is suddenly deeper, raspier.

Before you can respond, you feel yourself lifted and you yelp, surprised, instinctively wrapping your limbs around the yakuza. In between the greedy kisses that leave your lips bruised and swollen, you don’t notice the movement back towards the seating area.

As you pull away to gasp for air, he throws you onto the couch, flipping you over in the process so that you’re kneeling away from him. Your nails dig into the soft fabric of the sofa. You hear Daitou unbuckle his belt and you squeeze your legs together, heavily aroused. He presses his palm gently into your back, arching it. You sense his fingers grazing over your core and you whimper.

“G-go on, please.” You beg, swaying your hips tentatively. “I really can’t wait anymore.”

“As you wish, Miss.” He reassures you with a grin.

He adjusts himself and carefully makes his way in. You don’t have time to enjoy the feeling; following almost instantly is his belt looped around your neck, tightening under his grip as he pulls the ends towards him. Your head is forced back, and you groan. You can hear the leather stretch and creak over your assaulted skin, the constriction briefly cutting your oxygen intake. Hot drool trickles down your chin and your eyes almost roll back in pleasure.

“Look at my little Miss (Y/N), taking it like a champion.” He bends over and bites your earlobe playfully. “Does that mean I can be as rough as I want?”

You nod erratically.

The grip around your throat intensifies and your vision becomes blurry.

“Hey, don’t pass out now.” He inserts two fingers in your mouth, pulling you by the cheek and tilting your head to look him in the eye. “Not before you show me that you understand your situation. You’re mine. Is that clear?”

He drags his fingers downwards, aiding your response as you struggle to contract your muscles.

“Attagirl.” He concludes, satisfied.

In the morning you wake up with a dreadful soreness, and you can quickly see why. Your body is peppered in bruises. Daitou is smoking by the window and promptly flicks his cigarette out once he realizes you’re no longer asleep.

“Are you okay? I’m so sorry, I don’t know what’s gotten into me.” He begins, remorseful, and squats in front of the bed. “I hope I didn’t hurt you.”

“I will need a day or two to recover before the next time, but otherwise I’m fine.”

He beams with delight upon registering your words: next time. You can’t help but snicker at his childish enthusiasm. It’s a mystery how Daitou can switch between ruthless killer and cute partner with such ease.

Although it’s no secret, really. It’s you.

***

“Thanks for driving me home, Kazuya.”

You smile and unbuckle your seatbelt, reaching for the door handle. Daitou has been busy with work for the past days, so Kazuya took his place in looking after your needs.

“Huh?” You rattle the grab handle one more time to make sure. “It’s still locked.”

The blonde raps the wheel impatiently with his fingers. Is he to silently accept his loss? Does it even count as a loss when he hasn’t even had the chance to present his piece? Daitou has been quiet about it, but he can read that bastard like an open book. Something definitely happened between the two of you and the mere thought drives him insane.

Ah, this is so unlike him. There are few things he cares about. His pride, his Family’s honor, his freedom. Women aren’t exactly on that list, yet somehow, you’ve snuck your way to the very top of priorities and he’s realizing it just now. It’s becoming harder to ignore his maddening urge to have you. Out of all the things…He’d give Daitou the world. But not you. He can’t. He can’t.

“Kazuya? Are you listening? You forgot to unlock the door.”

“Say, (Y/N) …ever fucked in a car before?”

“What?” You ask, baffled.

“Come here for a moment.” He swiftly slides his seat all the way back and pats his thigh.

“Are you out of your mind?”

He answers your inquiry by pulling out his handgun and lazily pointing it towards you.

“I’m only going to ask once.”

You clumsily climb over the center console, straddling the yakuza with a slight pout.

“Someone’s in a sour mood, that’s for sure”, you complain. “It’s not even loaded.”

“Even I’m not crazy enough to risk shooting my Princess.” He smiles apologetically, throwing the gun on the backseat. “I thought it’d be more threatening that way.”

He removes a strand of hair from your face, gazing at you intently. His hand lingers for a second, before sliding its way down, tracing the side of your body. You shiver.

“Can you truly blame me when there’s such a pretty girl right before my eyes?” The blonde exhales and focuses on your shirt instead. “Won’t you let me prove myself?”

From this distance, despite the dim lights, you can discern his features in agonizing detail. His long lashes, his fleshy lips, currently parted, the luscious locks of hair casually thrown back. Kazuya has always been effortlessly handsome. It’s not just his good looks, but his overflowing charisma. He always knows exactly what to say and do. A devilish power to have over people, and you’re presently his victim.

His slender fingers play with your first button and cheekily undo it. You can only observe it, entranced. Your legs are weak, and your arms are stuck in place, resting limply over his broad shoulders.

“May I?” He glances up at you with a pleading expression. “I won’t be able to hold back afterwards.”

You bite your lower lip, distracted. Whether or not this is a wise choice, you can’t currently tell. You squirm in his lap and suddenly feel the pressure coming from below.

“Go ahead.” You finally confess.

He doesn’t hesitate and slithers his hand underneath your shirt, popping the rest of the buttons open. Like a hungry animal that has stumbled upon a feast, he sinks his teeth into your neck, leaving mean, wet kisses on his way down.

One hand is greedily kneading your curves, encouraged by your soft whimpers, while the other strokes your thigh in anticipation. With a bit of readjustment, he finds the right spot between your trembling legs. You jolt at the sensation of his cold fingers.

“My, you’re already dripping. How lewd.” He whispers between breaths. “Do you want it now?”

He nonchalantly slips out and undoes his own pants. You lift yourself expectantly and let a moan escape your lips upon feeling the erection throbbing right below.

“Well then, can’t forget our manners, can we?” He announces, visibly excited. “What should I do?”

You glare at him, feverish.

“Stop teasing me.”

“Come on, be a good girl. Tell me what to do and I will do it, Love.”

Why, this…You lower yourself to his ear and answer in a lulled whine.

“Isn’t it obvious? I want you to fuck me.”

Words enough to send the blonde man over the edge. He abruptly clutches your thighs for support, easing himself in before continuing with increasingly aggressive thrusts. Husky whimpers roll out of his mouth, desperate and starved.

“Oh, I’ve waited so long for this. My darling, perfect little (Y/N).” He presses his forehead into your chest, indulging in the moment. “Now say that you’re mine. Please. Please say it.”

“I’m…ah…I’m all yours, Kazuya.” You manage to blurt out, growing dizzy.

“That’s my girl. Such a good girl.”

Once the deed is finished, you flop your head over his chest, trying to catch your breath. Kazuya smoothens your clothes meticulously, holding you with one arm for support. Can’t leave a lady all disheveled, after all.

“Won’t Daitou be upset?” You point out, somewhat anxiously.

His muscles are tense for a second and he furrows his brows.

“That’s one strange way to thank me for making you come at least twice. Mentioning another man’s name.”

“I’m just…” your words trail off.

“What? Worried? You think I can’t handle it or something?”

Far from the truth. Both Kazuya and Daitou are violent, dangerous men. Given their stubbornness, you’re rather certain they’d end up killing each other. Not your favorite outcome.

“I don’t want either of you to get hurt.”

He sighs loudly.

“I’ll tell you what. Under normal circumstances, I’d probably dismember whoever had the guts to even entertain the idea of meddling with you. But…just because it’s Daitou, I might be willing to share. Nothing more than that.”

Kazuya ruffles your hair and chuckles.

“Aren’t you glad I’m such a diplomat, Love?”

“More like batshit crazy, both of you.” You retort, stretching.

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kiwanopie · 2 years

Text

Biggest Fan

boyfriend!kiyoomi part VI! one (1) instance of suggestion tooth rotting fluff. 1.3k

Belatedly, he realizes his request to have you move in with him may have been a little redundant.

You two traded keys within the twelve month mark in your relationship, by a year and a half were you coming back from your respective jobs to find the other somewhere cozied up in your respective flats. Fights didn’t really change much to the routine. Maybe a passive aggressive comment to clean your kitchen when he was too miffed at you to do it himself, a high protein lunch “Not!! made with love >:(!” But nothing could ever come between him and having his arms wrapped around you by nightfall. By year two, you were giving your clients the number to the fax at his place. Since ‘Why buy a new one when I’ve got a perfectly good one (that I just bought) at my apartment?”

Now, at year three - Full home office set up in his quaint little penthouse apartment, tenant parking spot, and a front office that signs his alerts with “To the recipients of…” He can’t really wrap his head around why you’re still paying rent at your old apartment? He knows you visit sometimes but hardly enough to keep paying for it. And even as he pads his socked feet around your modest living room, he finds it mostly bare save for a thrifted coffee table and a suede couch he’s fucked you on way too many times to count.

You push another box to him from the threshold of the hallway, another one that sounds a little glassy when he picks it up. “Seriously, what's in these?”

“Just two more of those, baby.” He hears you wheeze. “Then we’ll drop the keys off at the front desk.”

“Do you need any help?”

“Nu-uh.” You punctuate with a grunt.

Kiyoomi knits his brows at the box but turns his heel for the balcony anyway.

Although, maybe the decision to have you move in just yet was a little asinine. He’s been thinking of buying a house. One with a nice view of the stars and the city lights - right on the cusp of the rural area but not a full on road trip to the city; with a big lawn and grassy hedges, white picket fence, open windows, and a mailbox with your names on it.

Or name.

Kiyoomi almost drops the box when those October winds start to nip through his jacket. The falling sky promises something much colder as he tips his reddened nose to the clouds, and watches as they darken with rumbling rain.

It doesn’t take him but a few long strides to get back to the second level where you are, strenuously pushing the next much bigger box into the living room.

“Do you have a coat? It’s gonna start to rain soon.”

You sigh a little tiredly to yourself. “I’m already pretty heated up from all this moving, a little rain won’t hurt.”

“No, you’ll get sick.” Kiyoomi parries. “I’ll put you in my jacket then. I can just run to the car.”

“Nu-uh. I don’t want you to over exert yourself, Omi. You’ve got a game coming up, remember? If anyone shouldn’t be getting sick it’s you.”

You follow his movements as he bends for one of the boxes, avoiding the second much lighter one as you nudge it in his view. “Besides, I doubt it’ll start raining before we can drive back to Tokyo. Forecast says the storm will just miss us.”

Kiyoomi shorts you a glance that’s mostly concerned with the loaded box in front of him. “I- Angel, I still don’t want you to get sick. I can handle a little overwork. You, I very much doubt.”

“Ok, wow. What’s that supposed to- Oh wait, baby that one’s really heavy-“

He lifts it up like it’s nothing.

“Oh…” You gawp. “Right. Pro-athlete.”

Kiyoomi scoffs in favor of letting your astonished gape boost his ego. Though his eyes do catch on the little sliver of polished oak peeking through the box in his hands.

He tilts his head. “What’s this?”

- You break out in a full sweat.

“Uh- W-Wait, wait, baby don’t-“

He’s already swerving to the side to dodge you. Long muscled limbs suddenly too lithe to catch as he turns his shoulder to duck your attempts to stop him, and missing the way you moue at the realization that Christ, you forgot this guy was still somebody’s little brother.

Which means beside his usual indifferent candor, he evades your efforts to stop him from peaking inside with the kind of goading of someone used to slinking away with something he shouldn’t have. Even as you whine he half taunts at the way you try to get a hold of him. “What? What is-“

Kiyoomi nudges open the seal a little more. “Are these posters?”

“Omi-“

“Are these my posters?”

“Stop-“

“Have you been-“ He almost wants to laugh. You’re jumping. “Have you been collecting my posters? All this time?”

“Can you just-“

“Oh, you framed them too.”

“S-Stop it!”

Kiyoomi actually does laugh this time. Like, he actually laughs. And you know it’s supposed to be mean but it flutters out with such genuine mirth that it gives you butterflies. It makes you feel hot to the apples of your cheeks and punches you in the gut with the kind of love struck ardor that should’ve worn off over three years ago - but hasn’t. ~ He cards his eyes through the box. You watch him. But instead of horror or disgust, or worse the realization that his girlfriend might be a little lamer than he originally thought;

It’s pride. Honest to god delight that raises his lips over his teeth and turns his cheeks a little chubby. Zeal, and glee, and that kind of love struck ardor that should’ve worn off over three years ago -

But hasn’t. “Why have you been hiding these? We could’ve kept these next to all your stuff I keep.”

“All my…?”

“Your diploma, your board certificate, your license,” Kiyoomi absently taps his fingers against the box. Which as he does you all but stiffen at the realization. You figured he encouraged you to make copies because it was safer having a backup, and when you found them framed in his hallway later on you thought nothing of it. I mean, he has a lot of frames in his hallway. Family pictures, the Photo Booth reel from your first date, some miscellaneous pictures of his two siblings,

Your graduation picture, your first anniversary photo, the picture he made you take before your first day as a therapist-

Oh.

Kiyoomi gestures you forward as he starts the motion of walking to his car. “With the way you iced me out before we started dating I was worried you didn’t even like volleyball.”

“Of course I like volleyball?” If the little fan trinkets in the box you’re carrying should mean anything. “I’ve been to like all of your games?”

“Yeah, I know that now,”

He makes the motion of shimming his jacket down his shoulders as he carefully sits the box where the others are, easily lifting the final one out of your grasp as he passes it over; and the way his biceps pop out of his t-shirt makes you shudder when he lifts his arms to close the trunk.

His jacket is warm, it smells just like him. “But you were sure playing coy when we first got together.”

- You, again, break into a sweat.

The way your nose crinkles up in embarrassment is honestly enough to have him suppressing a smirk when he turns to you again. Albeit poorly. Seriously, this guy seems intent on teasing you into the mud today.

“Well!” You stammer. “Because-“

“Well, because!” Kiyoomi kisses you on the forehead as you gasp at the way he openly mocks you. “Shut up. You’re so cute it’s stupid.”

He pinches your cheeks when you rightfully pout at him. “And fix your face. It’ll get stuck like that.”

“When did you become such a bully?!”

“Somewhere between “Can you be my girlfriend?” and “I love you too.””

He titters a little as you grumble your way into the car.

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holylulusworld · 8 months

Text

Puppy

Summary: You meet a clingy but sweet guy.

Pairing: Cole Turner x fem!Reader

Warnings: clingy Cole, meet cute, fluff

“Wait, miss. You lost this,” a cute guy chases after you. He pants as he finally catches up with you. “You forgot—” he wheezes. “Phew…I ran faster than I thought.”

“Oh, my wallet,” you smile sweetly at the guy selling you a plant moments ago. “I would forget my head if it wasn't screwed on.” He laughs and hands you your wallet.

“You’re very welcome, miss. Uh-I’m Cole by the way. I sold you the plant.” He nervously babbles. “Do you want me to carry the plant to your car?”

You chuckle. It’s a small plant, and he seems a little too eager for your taste. But you hold out your hand and tell him your name. “Y/N, thank you again. No, the plant isn’t heavy, I’ve got this.”

His face falls, and his eyes sadden. Cole wrings his hands, and he struggles to find a way to invite you. “Maybe next time.”

“How can I thank you?” you try to be polite. Cole seems to be nervous around women, and a little shy. “Do you want to go for coffee? You’re invited.”

“Coffee? Now? I mean,” he flashes you a sweet smile. “Oh…okay…wait. I’ll tell Edna to watch my stall.” He runs off but stops in his tracks to look over his shoulder. “You’ll be here when I come back, right?”

“Sure. I invited you for coffee,” you playfully say. “Remember? It was like ten seconds ago.”

“I’ll be right back.” This time he runs off to talk with one of the other stall owners.

“So…uh are you single?” He walks next to you. Cole holds the coffee you bought him in a tight grip, almost crushing the cup in his hand. “Crap. I didn’t want to overstep. Sorry. I sometimes babble when I’m around a pretty woman.”

“I wouldn’t have invited you for coffee if I was taken,” you stop walking to wrap your hand around his wrist. He’s the right amount of cute and confused. Like a lost puppy and you kinda of like being the confident one for once. “How about you?”

“Free as a bird,” he rolls his eyes at his words and internally curses himself. If he messes this spontaneous date up, he will kick his own ass. “I’m single.” Cole hastily adds. “What brings you here, Y/N?”

“I wanted to buy a plant,” you joke, “and honey.”

Cole smiles widely. His heart flutters a little when you look up at him.

“Shoot, look at the time. I got to go. I need to check on a few e-mails and call my boss.”

He sighs and nods. Somewhere between walking to the coffee shop and going for a walk, he messed things up again.

“That was nice, though,” you lick your lips. “We should do this again. Maybe next time we can have lunch together, or brunch. I don’t know what the kids these days do on their second date.”

Cole furrows his brows. His eyes light up and he grins. “I could invite you for dinner or cook for you. Maybe we can have lunch and coffee… or a walk in the park. I know a perfect spot.”

“Cole,” you place your hand on his chest and look up at him, “relax. You’ve got ten out of ten. I want to see you again, so…relax.” You stand on tiptoes to peck his lips. “Just you know, I don’t kiss a guy on a first date.”

He nods and swallows thickly when you grab his phone to save your number. “I can bring a new plant to our next date.”

“Just bring you,” you cup the back of his neck to bring Cole down for a kiss. “That will be enough…”

“Hey it’s me…uh Cole. I called to ask if we wanted to meet at six or seven. Call me if you have time.”

You checked on your mailbox only to find you missed ten calls from Cole.

You sigh deeply.

Cole is a sweet guy, and you liked him from the beginning, but this is a little much.

It’s been barely two days since you met and he won't stop calling and sending messages.

“Hey, it’s me again…Cole.”

The last message almost sounds desperate.

“I didn’t want to scare you off. I’m sorry. Fuck…I always mess things up. I understand if you don’t want to see me again.”

You are about to delete all of his messages and forget about Cole. He’s a little too clingy for your taste.

Your finger hovers over the button, ready to block Cole but your eyes land on the plant, and you change your mind.

Instead of deleting his number, you call him back. He deserves a second chance.

Cole immediately answers the phone, making you chuckle.

“Hi, sorry. I couldn’t take your calls. I thought about cooking tonight. I have the rest of the week off and wanted to ask if you have time to join me for dinner tonight.”

He tells you that he'll be there. Of course, he does. Cole waited two days for you to answer his calls or messages.

Cole may be a lost puppy, but he’s your puppy and you won’t let him slip through your fingers.

You always had a thing for sweet guys…

Part 2

Tags in reblogs.

#cole turner #ghosted fanfiction #Puppy #cole turner x reader #cole turner x you #cole turner x y/n #cole turner x female reader #ghosted fanfic

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vangh17a · 28 days

Note

Could you share "favorite"?

I won't share the whole thing because it's long and wow the style kind of hurts, but!

It may have been mildly based off of some real life shenanigans :D

Will I finish it? Maybe at one point. Hm. Not sure.

I'll put it under a cut since it's def still gonna be long! (I'll also put the text and ID in alt text for those who struggle to read my messy handwriting lol)

The concept is April is getting ready to leave, and instead of the typical "Love you guys!" she decides to add some fuel to the fire and mess with the boys.

He knows exactly what he's doing...

Will I finish this one day? Maybe. There's a lot of filler panels in here too that I don't feel like adding onto this because they're redundant WHEEZE

#wip game #wip #mailbox #I'm gonna count this as uh #standalone comics #my art #WHEEZE

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jiubilant · 1 month

Text

The decrepit red Mini in the apartment building's drive stops, pollutes the air with a rattling cough, then creeps forward another foot. Lydia, doing pull-ups on her balcony railing, looks over her shoulder.

"Ravi's teaching Shiv to drive," she remarks, the rail creaking under her weight. Twenty-eight. Twenty-nine.

Her fiancée, with a slow and luminous grin, comes out to look. "Not in the clown car."

"In the clown car."

They watch the clown car, overburdened with parking tickets and flaking degree-mill bumper stickers, back up with a wheeze. Then it stalls. Both doors, like rusty wings, scrape open.

"—en't like picking locks at all," comes a wail from the driver's side.

"Yes, it is," the man struggling from the passenger's side rejoins. "The main things to bear in mind are to stay vigilant and, ah, to obey the law when officers are around—Ayo, dear," he calls up to the balcony, his face bright with both a smile and a lit cigarette, "would you mind giving us a jump?"

He'd stopped scolding Lydia for the pull-ups a few months ago. (Thirty-six. Thirty-seven.) Her fiancée, flattening out a smile, leans over the railing. "Again?"

"S'important to my edification," says the girl on the driver's side, straight-faced. "We're going to knock over the dean's mailbox—"

#occurred to me that in a modern setting i wouldn't have to change any of their names. happy april fools'

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kithtaehyung · 1 year

Note

Let me tell you I was nervous for those fan calls but I think we’re good

https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZTRcv85qC/

AHHHHH HAHAHAHAH YESSSS💀💀💀

#the way i WHEEZED #oh he’s ready ready #60 seconds you decide ur fate with this man🤣#anon #club myg #videos #yoongi #mailbox💌

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sleepingdeath-light · 1 year

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relationship hcs ; barnaby

requested by ; anonymous (09/05/23)

fandom(s) ; welcome home

fandom masterlist(s) ; here

character(s) ; barnaby b. beagle

outline ; “i LOVEEE the way you write so much🙏!!Is it possible that you could do barnaby head cannons but romantic? If you want😭”

warning(s) ; none, just fluff!

this relationship is built on a foundation of shared humour, carefreeness and just generally being on the same wavelength whilst also being in love with each other

his love language is quality time, which usually involves him doing everything he can to make you laugh — even making a fool of himself in order to have you folding in on yourself and wheezing from laughter

dates aren’t really a fixed thing since the two of you spend basically all of you time around each other anyway, but you do try to take one day out of the week and just dedicate it to doing something new together

this can be trying a new food, visiting a new place or trying to learn a new phrase in a new language (usually a joke)

this way you end up making plenty of memories and, even if you end up looking like fools a lot of the time, you end up growing as people and as a couple through these new experiences

he gives you lots of stupid nicknames and they change with basically every sentence he says — and, somehow, he’s never repeated one, which is actually quite impressive

you are his arm rest. this is non negotiable

he loves hugging and cuddling you, meaning you’ll usually end up spending the evening wrapped up in his arms as you watch whatever new vhs he managed to snag from howdy on a loan

scratching behind his ears will make him fall asleep — but be warned that he both snores like a freight train and kicks like a mule in his sleep

he will pick you up at random and it’s 50/50 whether you’ll get the princess treatment or just get flung over his shoulders like a sack of potatoes

it depends on his mood, honestly

he didn’t realise that he had feelings for you until, midway through his 90th rant about how awesome you are, julie piped up and asked when he was going to ask you out

and he did, about twenty minutes after she said it

he only ever gets jealous of dogs — like if you come home after petting and cuddling with a friend’s puppy then he’ll get incredibly pouty

this only really lasts about ten minutes though, so don’t worry, he can’t stay mad at you

usually goes to wally for relationship advice — and, no, wally doesn’t know why he does this either and will usually flag down julie or eddie to give him a nudge in the right direction

he’d 100% do the handprint thing from up and your mailbox 100% has your smaller handprint inside of his massive paw print — his in blue and yours in your favourite (non-blue) colour

(eddie thinks it’s adorable whenever he delivers your mail and wants to do the same thing with frank)

you have frequent prank wars that can involve anything from whoopee cushions to pies-to-the-face to water-filled fake flowers to basically anything else

as one could expect, this means that your house is pretty much always in a state of chaos — but it’s still your home and neither of you would have it any other way

#sleepingdeath #gender neutral reader #fluff #fluff hcs #welcome home fluff #welcome home x reader #barnaby b beagle fluff #barnaby b beagle x reader

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sammy-deserves-better · 4 months

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Coughs, hacks and wheezes

I bring to you all another Mkulia au, this one is a bit more unconventional buuuut

MK illegal street racer x Julia ‘perfect princess (devil in disguise)’

MK drives a cool car, Julia likes that and dates her! So it’s basically a classic ‘forbidden’ love au but it doesn’t end in tragedy (there’s tragedy in the au probably but it doesn’t end in tragedy!)

MK loves the thrill, the rush, and most importantly, the money. Julia loves how freeing it is to tear up the streets with a girl she likes.

I wanna imagine their first meeting is so stupid, like MK knocks over a mailbox or something and Julia just goes ‘nice parking idiot’ and then they argue.

Also, Julia 100% helps MK cheat in races, whether it’s a log of every single shortcut in the city, or convenient distractions like a spike strip, this girl is willing to do anything to ensure her girlfriend wins.

There’s a lot of shenanigans, all that jazz, Axel gets hired as MK’s bodyguard, Emma and Chase make the street races super popular from their videos on it. Hell, some of the cast are probably also street racers like Ripper and Chase!

Anyways these are just my silly thoughts, add more if you want

#total drama #total drama reboot #total drama island 2023 #td mk #td julia #mkulia #karmas aus

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writereleaserepeat · 9 months

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Fan Mail

Fan work based on the Kane & Jim series by @whumpsday . I’m always so inspired by K&J, both in how to make a compelling story and how to be a better author. Please go read the original K&J before reading this - I promise you the investment of time is worth it. Some creative liberties and departures from canon have been taken to make this story work.

Summary: Jim gets a special delivery - fan mail. Kane is horrified when he finds out what this means, and Liz manages to make it worse.

WC: ~5500

CW: recovery from abuse and torture, PTSD symptoms, hate comments

Kane heard the familiar hum of the mail truck long before it reached the end of Jim’s driveway. The poor excuse for a vehicle sputtered along with its usual concerning wheeze. After hearing it for the first time, Kane had been waiting for the day when it inevitably gave out for good. In the meantime, however, it would continue to deposit a meager collection of mass-mailed pamphlets in Jim’s mailbox once every weekday.

“Is that the mail?” Jim called from the kitchen, having apparently heard the telltale rattling on his own.

“Yes,” Kane answered simply, unsurprised that even a human was able to hear the metallic beast’s pathetic keening. After a moment he heard the vehicle’s direction of travel change, and Kane’s red eyes widened as his heart accelerated in his chest.

“It’s… it’s coming up the driveway.” His words came out strangled by fear, terror at the sudden and unexpected.

Of the days Kane had spent tucked away inside, hiding from the daylight that blazed beyond dark curtains, he’d come to embrace the comfort routine. He heard when the birds first began their song before dawn, and he listened to the wind shift through the nearby trees as mid-morning became afternoon. He found melodies in Jim’s footsteps upstairs, tracing the man’s path throughout the home each morning before he fetched Kane from the basement. Crickets began their crescendo as the sun began to fall towards the horizon, signaling that it would soon be time for Kane to return to the basement once more.

But the mail truck was supposed to pause for a moment before carrying on down the road. It wasn’t supposed to travel across Jim’s driveway and sputter ever-closer, carrying another human and goodness knows what else in its belly.

“Oh, Liz and Laken must have sent me a package,” Jim said with nonchalance. “Blaise drops any packages off on the porch, instead of the mailbox.”

The fact that Jim sounded unfazed did little to settle Kane’s growing panic.

“A package? But- but don’t they visit often? Why would they mail something when they can just bring it over?” The questions were all hiding Kane’s true concern: what’s the catch? How is this going to hurt me? Are the hunters finally coming back for me?

There was the brief sound of Jim drying his hands on the kitchen towel, and then he reemerged in the living room with a half-smile on his face. This one seemed genuine, kind.

“I think they want me to have a pleasant surprise now and then. I know money is tight for them, but they always find new ways to try and lift my spirits. Besides, if I refuse, Liz just starts counting how many birthdays and Christmases I missed.”

“Oh.” Kane’s anxiety coiled inside him like a spring. It was a painful reminder of those years he’d stolen from Jim, the years that Liz would never be able to return with a thousand well-meaning gifts. It was a reminder that Kane was a monster, and always would be.

The vampire soon realized that Jim had picked up on his nerves. He’d drawn the jacket tight around himself, pulled the hood in close to his cheeks, formed a barrier between himself and the rest of the world. It was like Kane was a child, trying to hide from the monsters in his closet.

Jim ran a hand through his curls and gestured halfheartedly towards the basement door.

“Why don’t you go downstairs for a few minutes? I’ll have to open the front door to get the package, and I don’t want you to worry about the sun.”

That was all the convincing that Kane needed. He willingly went down the stairs, past the silver door, and down into the dark recesses of his basement – no, the basement. He even let out a breath of relief as he heard the lock secured.

Moments later the rattling of the mail truck ceased to an idle hum. Kane could then hear Jim chatting with a stranger, their smiles evident in their tones.

“Hey, Blaise, how are you?”

“Doin’ just fine, Jim. I have a package here for you, not too heavy, but figured I’d spare you the walk down the driveway.”

“Thanks, I appreciate it, man. Can I get you something to drink?”

“Oh, I’m okay, the missus packed me some water for the road this morning.”

“Alright, if you say so. You take care now.”

“Likewise. Enjoy your afternoon, the weather out here is beautiful.”

Both of their voices were warm, friendly, alight with the jovial tone of passing acquaintances. The front door closed and Jim walked back to the kitchen, dropped his package and letters on the kitchen table, and then the lock on the basement door slid open.

“You can come up now. Blaise is gone, and the door is closed.”

Kane trotted up the stares obediently, relieved that Jim had been telling the truth, but simultaneously burning with shame. He’d made Jim go out of his way for something as simple as getting the mail, all because he couldn’t quell his own anxieties. Kane did nothing but complicate Jim’s life, all he’d done for the last decade was complicate it, and he wasn’t poised to stop any time soon. He felt the full weight of his burdensome existence deep in his stomach.

Although he’d heard the front door close, Kane swept his eyes carefully around the room before letting the basement door shut behind him. True to his senses, and much to his relief, there was no sunlight leaking into the house. Further inspection revealed pamphlets and a large box on the kitchen table, but Jim had seemingly ignored them in favor of the meal he had working on the stove.

The question dropped from his lips before Kane could swallow it. As anxious as the unexpected mail drop had made him, he was just as curious what Liz could have sent along through the post.

“Aren’t- aren’t you going to open it?”

“Nope,” Jim said without hesitation, and without apparent annoyance at Kane’s prodding inquiry. “It’s not a gift. Its garbage, and the garbage is where it’s going as soon as I’m done cooking these onions.”

“I can take care of that for you,” Kane offered, desperate to be helpful, especially after the scene he’d nearly caused because of a simple package delivery. Whatever was in that box was definitely a sensitive subject for Jim: Kane could hear it in the human’s rapid heartbeat and he could see it in his tensed muscles.

“It’s fine,” Jim said, his voice wavering a touch. “But… sure. Just dump the contents right into the trash, and put the box in after it, alright? Might have to cut the box down for it to fit.”

“Yes, Jim.”

Eager to assist, and pleased he’d remembered to use Jim’s name under pressure, Kane sprang forward and whisked the box off the table. His talons effortlessly split the tape and he proceeded to shake out the contents into the nearby trash can.

Much to Kane’s surprise, a pile of letters came fluttering out of the box, and they fell in piles onto the waste that was already sitting in the bottom of the trash bag. The panic that had just been quelled re-emerged. Kane drew in a breath and let out a shaking whimper. There was no way Jim had meant to throw out letters, right? They were handwritten, addressed to him by name, sealed with stamps and beautifully scrawling script.

“I- Jim- I don’t think this is- these are letters! They’re addressed to you!” His nervous exclamation was louder than he intended, but Kane wasted no time in digging his arms down into the wastebin, fishing out fistfuls of letters in a hurried attempt to save them.

When he glanced up, Jim had a scornful look on his face, which made Kane shirk back.

“Yeah, I know. That’s why they’re trash. Put ‘em back, stuff ‘em to the bottom of the can, and get the bag ready to go to the curb.”

Kane had to force a swallow, and he quickly dropped the letters back into the bottom of the trash. The rest followed, and he tore the cardboard box into pieces that he piled on top of the letters. Whatever they were, Jim didn’t want to see them, much less acknowledge them.

Before he closed the lid he noted the return address on the box. It fluttered to the bottom of the trash just like the letters, but not before Kane had taken in the sender’s identity.

Birchwood Forest Publishing, Inc.

That created more questions than it answered. However, Kane knew he had already pushed on Jim’s good graces with this matter, and the thought of upsetting him further made the hair on the back of Kane’s neck stand up straight. If this was something Jim wanted to keep a secret, Kane would let him have that secret.

Still, the curiosity gnawed at him like hunger.

---

Five days after the incident with the mysterious package, and four days since any remaining evidence had been schlepped outside for trash collection, Liz and Laken came to visit. Kane had been gradually growing accustomed to their visits, including Liz’s caustic stare. It was no less than he deserved.

The two hunters had just come off shift, so it was quite early in the morning when they’d arrived. Kane had heard their arrival upstairs, and he’d listened with earnest pining as the family laughed and joked and made their way through the otherwise quiet house.

Kane had been allowed upstairs after sunrise. The ankle restraints were familiar by now, even comfortable, and he was able to sit on Jim’s couch in silence as Laken retold stories of the last week in town. He was sure the interest was apparent on his face, but he sat rapt through Laken’s retelling of the butcher who had finally gained the courage to ask the diner owner on a date. Although the entire affair could have lasted no more than two minutes, Laken had managed to stretch the tale into almost ten minutes, and their impassioned dramatization was the most relaxed Kane had been in days.

It was pleasant. There was no denying how nice it was, sat like a friend among these three humans, even if they largely ignored Kane’s presence. He was soaking in the laughter, the smiles, no matter the fact none were directed at him. Their blood smelled sweet, but not nearly as sweet as the joy Kane gained from listening to them laugh at something aside from his own pain.

The illusion of perfection was shattered when Jim finally piped up.

“Yeah, you won’t believe what I got in the mail this week. Another box of fan mail from the fuckin’ publishers. I told them months ago that I didn’t want them forwarding that shit anymore.” When he spoke he only sounded mildly irritated, at best, while Kane knew he’d been furious when the box had first arrived.

Kane immediately sat at attention, his calm dissipated, and he leaned forward as the siblings scowled in unison.

It had to be about the box and the letters, of course. There was no other noteworthy mail that Jim had received over the last week. “Them” could only mean one thing: Birchwood Forest Publishing, Inc.

“Fuckers,” Liz grumbled, and she took a sip of her cold cola, her lips smudging the frost on the side of the glass. “You’d think they’d at least screen it, right? You know, actually look at what they’re sending you, not just stuff it in a box and hope all is well.”

Jim scoffed.

“I don’t want any of it. No praise, no love letters, nothing. They can burn it, for all I care. Just stop sending it to my doorstep.” There was no hiding the sheer disgust that dripped from every word.

This only piqued Kane’s interest further. Why would Birchwood Forest Publishing send Jim love letters? And if they were indeed love letters, why did Jim speak of them with such vehement hatred?

Of the humans in attendance, Laken seemed the least bothered by the cryptic discussion. They stood up and stretched before grabbing the now-empty plate in front of them.

“I’m going to the kitchen to grab a beer and get the dishes started. Anyone else want anything?”

“I’ll be back once I take a leak,” Jim said, standing up alongside Laken.

“Guess that leaves me to babysit,” Liz said, to which the other humans laughed.

Kane’s cheeks flushed hot with embarrassment. He knew that Liz’s words were in jest, but dread knotted in his stomach nonetheless. As Jim and Laken left, Kane wrung his hands together. Being left alone with Liz was always scary. Even now, before Jim had left the room, her glare burned holes in his tattered soul.

“So, do you even know what Jim was talking about? The letters?” She asked once both humans were out of earshot. The accusatory tone was yet another clue Kane hadn’t picked up on before – whatever this was about, it was because of him.

When it came to Jim’s endless pain and suffering, what wasn’t Kane’s fault?

“J- Jim got a package the other day,” Kane started. There was a soft waver to his voice, but he pushed on. “It was large box that came with the mail. He told me to throw it away, and I did- well, I started to. I thought he made a mistake, because it was letters, and they were addressed to him. But… he made it very clear that he didn’t make a mistake. He told me to throw them out without even looking at them.”

“Mhm.” Liz leaned back into the chair and crossed her right leg across her lap. “Do you know what those letters were?”

For a moment, Kane was tempted to lie. After all, Jim had told him to throw the letters out, not look at who the box was from. He didn’t want to admit that he had learned more than he’d been allowed to. At the same time, he felt as though Liz could stare through him and all his secrets.

“No. All I know is that the box was sent from Birchwood Forest Publishing, and that it made Jim very upset.” This confession came just as quietly, an admission that he’d snooped where he shouldn’t have.

“You know that Jim published a book, right? A book about what you did to him. A book about how he survived, despite that.” There was no missing the accusatory tone in her voice, that anger she never quite abandoned when speaking to Kane. It was a sound that made him want to sink into the earth and never reemerge.

Yes, and I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I swear that I’m sorry, please don’t hurt me please please please…

“Yes,” he squeaked out, and pulled his hands close to his chest, as though that could protect him from a hunter’s stake.

“Well, you see,” Liz continued with another sip of her cola, “the book was a bestseller. Everyone loved the story. A human escaping from vampire territory? It was unheard of, especially after five years in captivity. It sold like wildfire the first year, and the sales haven’t slowed down since. But that level of notoriety, well, it causes problems too.”

Of course it did. Everything Kane touched caused problems for Jim. Even the very story of Jim’s captivity, and his attempt to make some profit from it, caused years of cascading pain.

“I’m sorry.” This time he couldn’t stop the apology slipping from his lips. It burned in his throat, and tears pricked his eyes. There would never be enough apologies in the world for what he’d done, and the thought that it continued to this day ached in Kane’s very bones.

“You don’t know the half of it.” That acidic abrasiveness gave Liz’s voice an edge. “The book had only been out for a week when the publishers forwarded the first box of fan mail. That’s what they called it, anyway. These were letters that readers had sent in to the publisher, addressed for Jim, because the publishers are some of the only people in the world with his address. They gathered up the letters, put them in a box, and sent them his way. You should have seen the way he smiled, thinking that maybe he’d inspired hope in some people, or that he’d find someone else who went through the same thing.

“Sure, some of the letters were like that. They told him how brave he was, how they could never imagine being so strong, or that his story gave him hope that their missing relatives would come home safe one day. But there were awful letters too. People who wrote solely to tell him that he should have died in captivity. Vampires who snuck into human territory to send words of vitriol for all humans, not just Jim. There were letters that accused him of being a liar, that he’d made up all of that suffering for the fame. For every kind letter of inspiration, there were at least two more than made him sick. They hurt him all over again.”

Kane’s head spun. He’d known that humans could be cruel – he knew that intimately well after his stint with the hunters – but he had no idea they could be so cruel to one another. And because of his own ignorance, not just trusting Jim when he said to throw the letters out, he’d dredged up all that hurt again.

“I didn’t know,” he whispered, wishing he could hide his face. “I swear, I didn’t- I didn’t know. I never meant for people to hurt him like that, I swear, if I could stop it-”

Liz cut him off with a wave of her hand.

“For once, this isn’t your fault. I mean, it is your fault. But people being dicks for the sake of being dicks? Humans have done that to each other since the beginning of time. Still, it doesn’t mean that Jim can handle it, not anymore.”

That sisterly softness crept into her expression, sadness clouding her eyes. She didn’t look up at Kane, but instead down at the floor, focused intently on the edges of Jim’s rug.

“I won’t ask about the letters again,” Kane assured her. If he’d learned anything from his time in captivity, it had been that making mistakes was unforgivable. Jim had been kind enough to let the letters slide this once, and without comment. If Jim had been upset by Kane’s inquiries about the letters, he’d hidden it well.

“I’m sure you won’t,” Liz said. “If you do, and he gets upset, you’ll have to deal with me.”

It was a threat that was often left unspoken, so Kane didn’t hesitate to acknowledge it.

“Yes, I understand.”

After a moment of thought, Liz tilted her head to the side.

“Have you read his book?”

“N- no, I haven’t. The only books I’ve read are the ones he’s given me.” These were the words that Kane managed to say, but even more ran through his mind.

I don’t think I can read Jim’s book, not by myself. You’d have to tie me down and read it to me so I can’t run away from what I did. It just hurts too much. Haven’t I already paid the price? Do I just have to keep reliving my sins over, and over, and over again? Is this the rest of my life?

“Well, maybe you should one day.” Liz spoke in a noncommittal tone. “I know he has some advanced reader copies still up in his attic.”

Kane was spared having to answer as Jim walked back into the room. He patted water off his hands onto his jeans, and stared at Liz with a smirk.

“What, not helping Laken with the dishes?”

“It’s their turn,” Liz shot back without a moment’s hesitation. “I did them last time!”

The siblings continued their chatter and Kane took the opportunity to retreat into himself, pushing out the questions and the discomforts from his time with Liz. If he sat with them for much longer, he’d be sick.

---

Kane had excused himself to the basement looking rather ill, and Jim hadn’t pushed the issue. The hood on the jacket had come up and Kane had wrapped his arms around himself, which Jim had come to recognize meant Kane was having a bad time. Given that it had only happened after he’d left the vampire with Liz, however, he had his suspicions as to the sudden cause.

“What did you say to Kane?” he asked, giving Liz a pointed look. Her shrug and averted gaze told him that she’d pushed something she shouldn’t have.

“I just told him about the hate mail.”

“Dammit, Liz,” Jim groaned. “You think the guy doesn’t have enough guilt? I tried not to tell him when it came in the mail the other day, and that was on purpose. I can promise you he’s blaming himself for it now, and I’m sure that’s why he left early.”

“I told him it wasn’t his fault,” she said, somewhat defensively.

“Yeah, like that’s going to make a difference in his fucked-up brain! Ask me how I know.”

“He needs to understand that his actions have consequences. Sometimes, those consequences are so far removed from the action that they’re hard to conceive. I just wanted him to see that his actions have long-lasting effects in ways he’d never have expected.”

Jim sighed and brought a hand up to his neck. In his discomfort, even in front of his sister, he was compelled to cover his scar.

“He sees those consequences. He sees them every day, and I don’t think he needs any more punishment than he’s received. You’re not here all day with him. The guilt, and the trauma, they’re eating him alive. Every. Day.”

“If you say so,” Liz said. She wrapped her arms around him, a sensation he’d never grow tired of. “But if you ever need any help keeping him in line, you call me, alright?”

“I know,” he said, and closed his eyes. All he could see was Kane cowering away from him on the first day he’d been home. How was that the same vampire that had tortured him for years? “I know.”

---

“Hey, Kane?” Jim called down the basement stairs, unwilling to enter Kane’s space without permission or good reason. “Are you alright? Liz and Laken are gone, you can come up if you’d like.”

It took a few moments for the vampire to take him up on the offer. There was the telltale shuffle of chains around his ankles, which he hadn’t removed before Kane retreated to the basement. Those familiar red eyes appeared at the base of the stairs and Kane made his way up slowly, cautiously.

“You’re not in trouble,” Jim reassured him, hoping to head off any nervous questions before they emerged. “I’m not upset that you and Liz talked about the letters.”

“Oh. Okay, I’m… Thank you.”

“You don’t need to thank me,” Jim said as Kane tip-toed into the first floor of the house. “You’re allowed to talk with my sister about things like that. Hell, you’re allowed to talk to me. You know you’re allowed to ask questions, right? If I’m uncomfortable I won’t answer, but you’re still allowed to ask. You’ll never be punished for asking.”

“Yes, Jim.” The answer wasn’t particularly convincing, but Jim wasn’t going to push it. He carried on instead.

“I know I was upset when the mail came, but you were still allowed to ask about it if you had questions. I would have told you why I was uipset. I was mad at the publishers for sending it, not at you for checking about the letters.”

Kane’s red eyes watered with sadness, but tears didn’t fall.

“I’m sorry,” the vampire said, all but blubbering. “I’m sorry that people have been so cruel to you. I know it’s- it’s my fault.”

“No, it’s not your fault.” Jim tried to stress this, despite the small voice in his mind wanting to scream. Yes, of course it was Kane’s fault, in some distant way. But the Kane in that stupid book, the Kane that the rest of the world got to know, wasn’t the Kane that stood before him today. This Kane could hardly get a word out without sobbing.

“I’m… I’m sorry. Thank you for not getting upset.”

“Not upset at you,” Jim reiterated. “If you have any questions about the book, or the letters, you can ask. I might not be able to answer all of your questions, but I’ll try.”

He watched carefully as Kane looked down at the floor, then back up to Jim, and then back to the floor again.

“I… I had an idea.”

“Oh?” This came as a surprise to Jim. There were some things Kane had taken an initiative with, such as being useful around the house, but he rarely contributed any attempted ingenuity.

Kane fidgeted where he stood before continuing.

“You, uhm, did you like some of the letters? The nice ones?”

It had been a year since Jim had even opened one of the boxes from the publisher, and even longer since he’d read any letters the boxes contained. Even if there were a dozen letters praising his courage and complimenting the storytelling, one hate-filled page was enough to send him spiraling. It got to the point where even seeing the box in the mail spiked his anxiety and brought on nightmares.

It took a letter from a vampire, one who had managed to post the letter into human territory, to make Jim swear off opening them altogether. Those were the letters he remembered, not the kind ones. Those letters were the ones that gave him new nightmares.

“I suppose so,” Jim admitted with a sigh. “It was nice to hear from people who were supportive. I used to wonder if putting that book out into the world was the right thing to do, but enough letters convinced me that it did some good. I’d like to think it helped some people, wherever they might be in their lives. Maybe it still is.”

“Then… maybe I could screen the letters for you?”

This was something that Jim hadn’t foreseen. He stared at Kane with wide eyes, blinking in disbelief.

“Wait. You mean you’d read through all of the letters?”

“Yes, Jim.” Kane’s voice rose in pitch, likely a combination of nerves and excitement. “I could read all the letters, and only pass on the ones that are kind and supportive. You’d never even see the other ones.”

An ache blossomed in Jim’s heart. This wasn’t just groveling and begging: it was Kane offering himself up as a barricade between Jim and the rest of the world, and he was doing so without any care for his own self-preservation.

Jim didn’t need prompting to remember some of the other letters he received. Letters that were neither expressing hatred towards himself nor admiration. There’d also been the letters from the vampire hunters and various victims, all dripping with hatred for not just all vampires, but Kane specifically. Undoubtedly, there were similar letters in the box that had been discarded just a few nights prior.

No words of affirmation from strangers would be worth putting Kane through that. Not now, not after everything had changed. Kane’s well-being was worth more than any hollow words of praise.

“No, man, it’s all trash. I don’t need that shit.” His smile felt painfully fake, but he put it on for Kane’s sake. “I appreciate the offer, though.”

A pause spanned the air between them as Kane’s distress prickled.

“And, uhm, Jim?”

“Yeah?”

“Liz said I should… she said I should read the book. You never gave it to me, so, uhm, I’m not sure if you wanted me to, but I… I would do it, if that’s what you wanted. It would… it would be hard, I’m not sure I could do it on my own, but I’d try, I’d really try, if you said to.” The tears Kane was holding back were obvious as his voice cracked. He couldn’t even look up at Jim as he spoke.

Dammit, Liz. Part of Jim wished she was still in his living room so he could ask her what the hell she’d been thinking when she said that.

Instead, he had to draw a deep breath in through his nose and let it out through his mouth. Yes, this was a sensitive subject, but he was ready to navigate it. Jim knew he was healing, because he patted Kane gently on the top of his head instead of screaming. There were things in those pages neither would be able to bear revisiting.

“To tell you the truth, I’ve never read the whole thing,” he ended up saying. He was painfully aware of just how much in the book could wind up traumatizing them both if they ever dared to read the words. “I would never, ever ask you to read that. It was something from a different time in my life. A different time in your life. So long as the cheques keep coming in the mail, that’s all I’ll ever care about it.”

“Are you… are you sure?” The incredulity in Kane’s voice never ceased to break Jim’s heart all over again. Even after all this time in Jim’s home, it was like the vampire expected him to become as grotesque as the hunters.

“I’m sure.” Say it until you believe it. “It’s in the past now. For me, and for you.”

“I can handle the pain,” Kane choked out, tears coming in thick now. “I can, I swear. It’s the least I deserve, to try and understand…”

“No. I mean it. You’ve been through enough; no, we’ve both been through enough. The book is a paycheck, that’s it: it’s not a part of any fucked-up penance you think you deserve. I don’t want you to read it.”

“Okay. I understand, Jim.” The pain in Kane’s voice was still heavy, but Jim could bear it now. So long as the vampire was willing to back down, rather than spiral into a panic, they were making progress.

“Alright.” Another smile on Jim’s lips, this one feeling slightly more real. “As long as we’re on the same page – no pun intended.”

For the first time in almost two days Kane let out a sound that resembled a chuckle. He still didn’t meet Jim’s eyes, but that was okay. This is how their life was now. Baby steps, one day at a time.

“How about we get the kitchen properly cleaned up?” Jim offered, trying to brighten his tone. He couldn’t be jovial, not with his heart thundering so fast and the weight of the conversation on his shoulders, but he tried nonetheless. “I know Laken and Liz try to be good guests, but they never put the glasses back in the right spot.”

“Yes! I can do that.” Kane was still wiping tears from his cheeks, but his enthusiasm was impossible to miss. There was no mistaking his relief at being granted a task, one that he’d been praised for before.

Without another word, Kane darted off towards the kitchen on light feet, the jacket relaxed a touch across his shoulders.

Jim followed after him, trying not to think about the advanced readers’ copies of the book that sat in his attic.

#whump #whump writing #whump community #whump blog #kane & jim #whumpsday #tagging a creator who is so heralded in the community is honestly intimidating #I could have done better on this work... but I'm just glad I'm writing #I am so self conscious about this #I'm a very exhausted and out of practice author without a beta and alcohol in my veins #but kane and jim give me so much inspiration... I love this series so dearly #I have other ideas for fanworks but we'll see #thank you whumpsday for being so tremendous and such a cornerstone of the whump community #fanfiction

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beneathashadytree · 2 years

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Hey! I’m new to your page but I love it so much and your writing is literally amazing!! I don’t want to say you have talent because that under mines all the hard work you’ve put into writing but you are amazing :< My request is a one piece fluff with Sanji, Zoro, Luffy, Kid, Law, Robin, Nami, Killer and and any of your favorite characters too ^ I don’t know if this is considered modern or not but basically them asking you to go grab their wallet and you see their drivers license or ID picture and it’s such an old crusty caught off guard picture like (sanji’s wanted poster bad) and they get embarrassed about it once they see you start laughing 😭. It can be modern or even within the one piece realm I just thought this would be so funny since this just happened to me 💔 Have a good day!!!

-aif

TEENAGE DIRTBAG - SANJI, ZORO, LUFFY, KID, LAW, ROBIN, NAMI, & KILLER X READER

Warnings : modern AU, cursing, lighthearted teasing from the reader, Kid always has a couple of empty threats at hand, they are all disasters, this is not proofread, reader is gender-neutral!

Genre : fluff, crack

Word count : 2.4K words (oh shit)

Additional notes : Ahhh, you’re being so unbelievably sweet! I’m so so glad you enjoy my writing. I loved this idea so much because it’s the perfect mix of playful and cute. Sadly, I’ve only ever seen Killer like twice and he’s barely said anything, and I haven’t really graspd his personality yet, so please excuse me if he’s OOC🥲 I just wanted to give you a heads up that I only write for a maximum of 6 characters per post, and in headcanon form. If fluff pieces were what you wanted, then I only take single characters per post🫣 I did them all anyways and as fluff pieces because I’m sure you didn’t know this, given that you’re new to my blog. I hope you enjoy this, nonnie! Let me know what you think💗

Requests : Are open! Check the rules over here.

Want to support me financially? Here’s my CashApp!

Masterlist

“Could you grab me my wallet from my bedside table, sweetheart?” Sanji called from the kitchen, “I’m a little busy at the stove right now, and the set of knives I ordered last week should be here in a few minutes. They’ll need my identification.”

“Sure thing.” Getting up from the living room couch, they went to snatch his wallet off his table. It was a little messy, filled with tiny coupons and various credit cards (yes, including the ones he froze years ago after his estranged biological father had practically forced them upon him). Struggling to pull out his ID amidst all this jumble, they said, “You really should sort out the stuff you don’t use anymore. I’m pretty sure at least half of these coupons have—“

They paused, their fingers finally picking at his ID. “Oh my fucking God,” they choked out, before a wheezing laugh escaped them, “Sanji, what on earth is this?”

“Hey!” he cried out, thumping sounds coming from the stove as he no doubt was switching the knobs off, “Stop looking at that!”

“It looks nothing like you,” they laughed, as he ran to their side. “What’s with the terrible frown? And why did they edit your face to look so… boxy? And—“

“Yes, yes, very funny dear,” he scowled even deeper than in the picture, cheeks burning red with embarrassment. He snatched it from their fingers, as they continued to shake with laughter. “Stupid shitty photographer didn’t even give me a chance to blink before he took it.”

“You do look like you had your eyes open for hours,” they chuckled behind their hand, trying to stifle the sound as he stuffed it back into the wallet, preferably for burial. Shaking their head, they sweetly kissed his cheek, enjoying his raging flush.

“Oh well, might as well keep your handsomeness for my eyes only.”

“Zoro, did you pay our taxes?” they asked, frowning as they stared at the letter that had been sent to their mailbox.

“…No, I forgot,” their boyfriend grunted from the next room, continuing to deadlift in his little private gym, “Just use my phone and do it online.”

“Fine,” the sighed, making to get up, “Where do you keep your wallet? I’m gonna need your ID.”

“Probably on the coffee table.”

Humming in response, they followed his instructions and began to take out what looked like his ID, before they loudly cursed bloody murder.

“What’s wrong?” Zoro’s voice was worried, and he soon appeared in front of them with a concerned look on his face, drenched in sweat and a little flushed with the exertion of effort.

“This fucking jumpscare,” they managed to cry out, choking on a laugh as they thrust the ID in his direction, “You look like you’ve been convincted of twenty cases of homicide. What are you glaring so hard for?”

“Shut up. It’s only cause I couldn’t see well,” he grumbled, blushing furiously as he stomped over to reach for it.

Swooping out of his way, they snickered at him, “Was your “not seeing well” also the reason behind the tongue in your cheek and hardened jaw? Or is your face just programmed to permanently look like you want to deck someone?”

“Should’ve done these taxes myself if you were gonna be a little shit about it,” Zoro swore, his entire face blooming red down to his neck. The mortification won over, and he grabbed his ID.

“You probably should’ve, yeah,” they giggled, leaning over to kiss his jaw, much to his chagrin, “Guess you’re not photogenic. Doesn’t matter, you’re the best looking man to me.”

When Luffy asked them to go for a trip of snack scourging at the supermarket, the implication that they would buy booze was very clearly there. His hands busy with all the bags of food they’d bought, he’d pointed out the bottles of sake and beer he’d wanted, but hadn’t been able to pull out his wallet with his hands full.

“My hands are full, can you get that for me?” Luffy begged, after having huffed and puffed for a few minutes trying to pull it out of his pocket with only his pinky finger.

Chuckling, they nodded and did as their boyfriend asked, before glancing at his ID photo and choking on their spit.

“Holy shit, babe,” they wheezed out, body trembling with their laughter as they handed it over to the cashier, “What’s with that face? Constipated much?”

“Listen, I was hungry,” he moaned pathetically, one of his busy hands pressing onto his stomach as he pouted at them, “Like right now. And the man kept stalling for no good reason. I thought I was going to pass out.”

“So you somehow ended up looking like a wilted flower?” they arched their brow at him as they carried their drinks and tugged him by the arm. “Should I worry about you dying out on me now?”

“Yes, if you don’t hurry and drive us back quickly.” Luffy looked dead-serious as he started moving so fast that it turned into him pulling them along and not the opposite. “Unless you want me to eat the snacks right now—“

“Coming, coming!”

As per their almost-monthly usual, they got pulled over by the police in the middle of the road, and Kid could only grit his teeth and hiss out a “Fine” when asked for his driver’s license (because past experience taught him that calling an officer bringing him in for speeding a “cunt” was a sure fire way to end up in jail).

He fumbled with his pockets, before realizing that his wallet wasn’t there as it usually was. Before he could ask for it, they found it in the space between the driver’s seat and the gearstick. They quickly pulled out his driver’s license, briefly glancing at it once before their eyes blew comically wide and they slapped a hand on their face, trying to muffle their laughter.

Kid murderously glared at them, before finishing the routine up with the officer. As soon as they drove past him, they let their hand fall and howled with laughter.

“The fuck do you find so amusing?” he growled after they grew increasingly more hysterical.

“Your-your face!” they cried out, tears now falling down their face, “You never told me you had an emo phase! The black bangs, piercings, smokey eye…” they trailed off, interrupted by their loud laughter.

“I think I’m going to actually fucking kill you,” he hissed, despite the light dusting of red on his cheeks, which only fueled their amusement even further.

“Was this another one of your catchphrases in your teenage years?” they chortled, wiping away their tears and very clearly enjoying this.

“I’m parking right fucking now and kicking you out of the car.”

“Got everything?” they asked Law at the doorstep, pulling their suitcases along behind them.

He nodded, but still went on to flit through his waistbag, checking the stuff along as he did. Their flight was still in a bit, but he didn’t want to turn around halfway through the drive to the airport. “Passport, visa, cash, credit cards, ID… wait. The driver’s license.”

Cocking their head to the side, they looked a little confused. “What do you need that for? We’re vacationing abroad.”

He gave his partner a very pointed look, and they shrugged and went to get his license nonetheless. “Weren’t you the one who insisted on visiting every single monument around the city? We’ll need a rental car for that, and I’m the one that has an international driver’s license.”

Before he could say anything else, a howl of laughter erupted from the bedroom, growing louder as they came up to him. Exasperation in his eyes, he turned to them, already knowing the reason behind their extreme amusement.

“Yes, haha, very funny, Law’s squinting at the camera,” he drawled, holding his hand out, “Now could we get this over with? We’ll run late.”

“Oh no, you’re not getting out of this,” they smirked, clutching the license close to their chest and taking another peek. “The squint’s not so bad, honestly. I can tell you just weren’t wearing your lenses. My problem’s with the god-awful hair.”

“Mullets were a thing when I was 18,” he snapped, trying to come up with an excuse—and clearly failing, if their peels of laughter were any proof. “And most teenagers don’t have much of a sense of style.” Law finally snatched the driver’s license from them, and took his suitcase rolling behind him on the way to where their Uber would pick them up.

Locking up behind him, they grinned, shaking their head. “Not much of a sense of style now either, love…”

“Robin, darling, I love you, and I would buy you anything you ask for, but we’re going to find ourselves broke by the end of the month if you keep spending ludicrous amounts of cash on book shipments,” they sighed, hurrying over to the bedroom where their girlfriend sat perched on her armchair, book in hand, “I think you need an intervention.”

The girlfriend in question chuckled, setting her reading glasses down, “Oh dear, that must’ve been last month’s ARC package. Let me get my wallet.”

“I already paid for it, but they asked for your ID for confirmation of the delivery. Is it in your wallet?”

Robin looked thoughtful for a moment. “No, I think I left it out on the coffee table when I came back from buying wine for our date night.”

They nodded and made their way out. It was silent for a few moments, before they snorted with laughter. “Oh God,” they choked out, before muffling the sound and opening the door once again. Moments later, it shut behind them, and they exploded into a fit of laughter, bursting into their bedroom.

“What’s so funny?” Robin smiled patiently, watching them fail to catch their breath.

Patting their chest, they finally managed to speak. “Y-your-your face! Why do you look so murderous?”

The woman chuckled, closing her book and walking up to them to glance at the ID. “I think I’d been woken up pretty early that day to take this picture, so I was rather grumpy. The photographer had made an inappropriate comment, and this was the only way I could express my displeasure.”

Their laughter quieted for a moment as they mumbled, “Fucking bastard,” before they glanced at the picture again and giggled, “And what’s with the half-shaved head?”

Robin shook her head, swiftly taking the ID from their fingers and pocketing it stealthily. “Let it be a reminder to not let teenage bullies stick gum in your hair.”

“There’s a lot to unpack in that statement…”

“I’m telling you, sir, I’m definitely old enough to be driving this.” Nami gritted her teeth, trying her best to smile sweetly at the police officer. “As a matter of fact, I’m old enough to carry out every single legal procedure in this country.”

“No driver’s license, no passage,” he firmly said, though he did hesitate for a second afterwards, probably after noticing just how stunning she was as she fluttered her eyelashes like that.

They placed a hand on her arm. “It’s alright, Nami. I’ve got your wallet in the drawer. Brought it just in case.” Pulling it out, they began to rifle through her numerous cards, before blurting out, “Holy fuck,” and bursting into laughter that they desperately tried to muffle behind their hand, their other hand giving their girlfriend her license.

With a look that could kill, she snatched it and gave it to the waiting officer, who soon sent them on their way. Revving the car back up, Nami glared at them.

“What, you didn’t expect me to comment on that picture?”

“What do you say we forget about that and turn on the radio?” Nami forced a big grin on her face, though the vein in her forehead remained prominent.

“Aw, it’s not that bad,” they cooed, before cracking up, “I mean, of course there’s the outdated perm, and the garish blue glitter eyeshadow, and the very obvious fact that these are not the eyes of anyone even remotely sober…”

“You’re paying for today’s date and next week’s one too,” Nami snapped, before exhaling loudly and slumping in her seat. “God, why’d you have to see the worst photo I’ve ever taken? I’d even had a terrible acne breakout then, so my face was in pain the entire time.”

“It’s alright, love. I still think you’re the most beautiful girl in the world,” they said as they leaned across to kiss her cheek.

Tension left her body, but she still managed to say, “You’re still paying for the next two dates.”

“Fuck, I’d been hoping you’d let that go.”

Killer had been stopped at the entrance of the concert arena as usual. With his mask almost always on, the security guards always needed to check he was of age by asking for his ID. He didn’t say much, knowing that this was a routine procedure, but he did tense a little with annoyance at having to take time out and possibly miss out on the best seats up front.

“I’ve got both of ours’ here,” they nodded from beside him, taking out both their wallets from their pockets and pulling each of their IDs. When it came to their boyfriend’s, however, they couldn’t help the snicker that left them at the sight of his picture.

“You’re having too much fun with this,” he grumbled, before taking it and handing it over to the man, briefly lifting his mask for a second for him to confirm his identity.

As they began to walk in, they took his hand in theirs, still laughing a bit. “Not my fault you never told me you used to imitate Kid’s punk style.”

“He was the only friend I had, of course I’d want to look like him,” Killer shrugged, “No one told me that straightening hair like mine does that much heat damage though…”

“Can’t believe you had a side part, Jesus,” they chuckled, shaking their head, “Not to mention the patchy beard. And what’s with the panda makeup?”

“Again, Kid’s idea,” he sounded a little annoyed, a light dusting of pink climbing down his neck, “He was all for the kohl-rimmed eyes, but neither of us knew how to apply it—hence why it got all smudged.”

They hummed, squeezing his arm lovingly. “Love the bright red lipstick-hair combo, by the way, but I still prefer the light purple lipstick on you. It’s very… you.”

Killer cocked his head curiously in their direction, wondering what they meant by that. With one last chuckle, they said, “As… interesting as other colors look on you, purple suits you best because it goes well with your pretty blue eyes.” Before he could get flustered and grunt that they were being foolish, they began to drag him by the arm. “We gotta hurry, there’s only 2 front row seats left.”

Taglist: @stories-that-shaped-me @wifeofkyojuro @finch-ya @livwritesfics

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