#‘plus it’s good to have someone else with a sense of smell and who can legally drive my dad around

[lokiiied]

i am a child of johnlock…and these idiots

[undercoverpena]

11. dusky pink

frankie morales x f!reader | chapter eleven of do me yourself

summary: a meet-cute in a hardware store? impossible, out of the question. except, that's exactly what happens. a need for screws leads you to a broad-shouldered, brown-eyed man who you're sure is about to change your day, never mind your life.

wordcount: 3.7k chapter warnings: frankie calls you 'rainy' (paint-related from chp.1) no other descriptions or name used. no use of y/n. frankie being a boy!dad, luca appearance. an: this one is called jo kicked her feet mid-writing and editing.

prev chapter | series masterlist

key: frankie is in bold, you are in italics

“You didn’t have to come to help me.”

Tilting your head, a grin playing at the corners of your lips, you adjust the apron he gave you. “I don’t mind. Plus, you did promise me food after, so.”

A hint of mischief dances in his eyes, tongue sweeping across his lower lip. “So, if I want to persuade you to do something, I should wave a carrot in your face.”

Smirking, biting down on your cheek as you slide the boxed screws onto the shelf. “Oh, you can definitely wave something in front of my face.”

It's instant, the way his mouth falls open, hanging. Frankie's arm pauses, mid-air, on the shelf as he stares, blinks, and eventually clears his throat. “That's… good to know.”

“Your voice cracked there a little bit.”

Glancing at you from the corner of his eye, body beginning to restock again, you watch as he swallows, his forehead crinkling. Did it?”

Laughing, you remove the empty box from the cart—grabbing the Stanley knife attached to the side of it to slice open the next.

Even though you've been here at night before, it's different being down the aisles than when you shared food. There's an eerie stillness that hangs in the air under the low lights, punctuated by the occasional creak of the shelving when the two of you stack something. The strong scent of disinfectant is wavering from its assault on your senses, mingling with the musty odour of warehouse cardboard boxes. A smell that worsens, for a moment, each time one of you empties and flattens it.

But, you wouldn't want to be anywhere else.

Finding yourself charmed by the place. Although, you suspect it's by the man beside you. The one who had been prepared to do all of this himself all evening.

“Frankie?” you ask, hearing him hmm. “You ever thought of owning this place? Maybe, making it your own or something?”

Snorting, he shakes his head as his fingers slide to itch at the back of his forearm. “No. Not… Well, I’ve thought about it, obviously. Not owning this place, but…”

“But...?”

Shrugging, mouth open, all but chewing his response as he stacks the shelf and answers with, “Doesn't matter. Wouldn’t be good at it.”

Scoffing, you lift your head, finding him staring. “Sorry, I’ll scoff quieter next time.”

“It's a lot of work. And, it's risky. The place can barely afford me, never mind someone else.”

Shaking his head, you see that look appear—the disbelieving one—catching it flutter across his face. His attempt at making it unreadable fails, as you spot it written all over his expression, practically in bold, italic, and underlined; all very much screaming he very much believes he couldn’t.

Continuing, he shrugs, nostrils flaring under a sigh. “S’not worth thinking about. Got bills. Luca. I… I failed him once, don’t wanna do it again.”

Dropping the contents back into the box, you don't think when you gently lay a hand on his arm, urging him to look. You're just grateful that he does.

Head tilting, trying to find words you swap easily for the truth. “I know I don’t know the version of you from back then, but I really doubt you failed him. You were trying to do the best you could, with what you had.”

His gaze meets yours, a blend of gratitude and uncertainty shimmering in his eyes. “I… just...I want to do right by him now, you know?”

“I know,” you answer softly, giving his arm a comforting squeeze. “And for what it's worth, I think you're doing an amazing job.”

He gives a small, appreciative smile at your words, eyes blinking past you as if trying to process the unexpected validation. Then, when his eyes fall back to you, his smile widens ever so slightly, a gleam of hope seemingly emerging from the shadows of doubt.

“I think you could do something like this.”

Flicking his eyes from yours to your lips, he smiles. “I don’t wanna own this.”

“What do you want then?” Hand sliding back inside the box, pulling out glue—the industrial kind, you imagine—that thankfully is labelled. “Outside of me helping you restock after hours.”

Grinning, he shakes his head. “Haven’t given it much thought.”

Smiling to yourself, turning the labels out, you leave him in silence for a moment. Letting him think, stew. “Not renovating?”

Tipping his head, his eyes meet yours—something twinkling in them. Shimmering. It makes you wonder to yourself if he’s ever been given a chance to think about something that he wants in a while.

“Maybe. I don’t know,” he replies, evidence there of a smile, of something turning, cogs shifting.

“Could get Luca to help—get him a mini tool belt.”

Laughing, he nudges you. “He’d charm them all into giving us free coffee.”

“From the stories you’ve told me, I don’t doubt it.”

It’s then he slides his hand across your back, fingers fanning, spreading warmth through the thin fabric covering your spine. “You still looking forward to meeting him?”

“Only when I don’t overthink it, and worry about the possibility of making the only person who matters in your world cry or something,” you smile, hand gesturing. “Outside of that thought process, very excited.”

Shaking his head, he steps closer, arm sliding around your waist—lips pressing to the top of your head. “Don’t tell him dinosaurs are extinct and you’re good.”

“Noted,” you whisper, staring up at him.

Eyes holding his, lingering. Your throat becomes full with letters, lips rolling as you weigh up whether it’s worth saying them—confessing them.

Instead, you press your mouth to his—hoping he can taste them, and how badly you want to share them.

Did you put that song over your latest Reel for my benefit?

If I did, was it appreciated?

I’m disappointed it’s not the loud-cat-screeching version I gave you in the car, but guess the original would be more well-known.

I want to keep that version, selfishly, to myself.

Just like I want to keep the photo of you with fries in your mouth just for me.

See, we have our things. Thanks for the help putting the Reel together.

I liked being your camerawoman. But next time, could I have a clapboard—maybe one of those chairs that says ‘Director’ on it?

I think I could find something for you to sit on.

Think that movie is something we’d selfishly keep to ourselves.

Be a good movie, though.

[SENDS PHOTO]

Wow, I didn’t even know they did coffees that large.

It was a special request. I told you she’s persuasive.

I wish I wasn’t on my own, otherwise I’d come down and see you both.

You just want her to get you a large coffee. Which I think she would—she likes you.

Rainy, that is the largest coffee I’ve ever seen. I’m glad she does. It matters your friends like me like mine like you.

Yours love me.

I am very aware.

If you’re good, I might drop you one off before I go home.

Have I told you how pretty you are today?

Such a charmer. [SENDS PHOTO]

See I knew you looked pretty.

Waiting, nerves prickling beneath your skin, your fingers interlacing tightly as you flick your eyes from the array of items you've arranged to the still-closed front door.

For the past, so many minutes, you've paced, chewed your cheeks, and endlessly rearranged the items on the table until they blur into a mess of neatness or chaos, you're not quite sure anymore.

Because it matters. Not just to him but to you.

Speaking to Luca (briefly, and on the phone) is so wildly different from meeting him. A thing you're aware of.

It's big. Fucking huge. A thing that you don't take lightly, or ever wish to. Not the permission to meet him, or the fact it's happening. It's why it keeps churning inside of you, bubbling and swimming up your throat; hands wringing out in front of you, thinking over what you'll do when his big eyes draw out the shape of you, standing there, waiting for you, this person who has entered his dad’s life, to say or do something.

You suppose that’s why your fingernail has migrated to scratching at the skin on your index finger, why your stomach is doing somersaults—more so when you hear the sound of Frankie’s vehicle pulling onto his drive.

You’ve got this. You can do this. Just breathe, just breathe, just—

The door finally opens, and there he is. The biggest eyes meet yours, all curious and wide. Even if the shadow of Frankie is behind him, you don’t take your eyes off Luca. Offering a small, reassuring smile, hoping it’ll be enough to show you’re trustworthy as he steps hesitantly into the room.

Not bending over, but crouching down, you let him approach. Watching as Frankie takes his jacket from his son before the soft introduction you've practised over and over again rolls from you—the sweet hello, followed by your name and I’m your dad’s friend.

And you knew it from photos—from the glimpses of the boy in front of you—but he has his eyes. Those soft, expressive eyes twinkle and shimmer at you as he offers his tiny hand for you to shake. One you take happily, with nothing but joy.

“Hey,” you say, voice soft and friendly. “I've heard so much about you.”

He looks at you for a moment longer, taking in your presence. Then, with a shy smile, he mumbles, “Hi.”

Frankie, watching the interaction from the doorway, closes the door, stepping further into the room as he presses his hand to Luca’s shoulder.

"Luca, you remember her from the phone?” He pauses, looking at you for a moment, before finishing, “...the one who struggled to say Aegyptosaurus.”

Narrowing your eyes a little, you smirk playfully at Frankie, the slightest shake of your head as you stare at the boy—warmth spreading through you as Luca begins to grin.

“Speaking of dinosaurs, I wasn’t sure if you wanted to help me with something?” you ask, gaze flicking up to Frankie who gives a supportive nod. “So, I’ve found this colouring book full of dinosaurs inside your Daddy’s coffee table, and I’m not sure what colours to make them.”

Slowly, his face shifts—from a questionable blank one to a slow smile that has the shadow of his dad’s, but breaks into something you assume must be his mom’s.

And god, it’s the most beautiful smile you think you’ve ever seen.

“Sure, I can helps,” Luca says, walking to the coffee table where the book is—before he’s beckoning you, little fingers urging you to come closer.

And you take a breath, a sigh—letting it flow into your lungs, as you reply with a quick ‘coming’ before you glance at the man still giving you both space.

Joining Luca on the floor, you sit cross-legged, the book propped up already on the table as colouring pens, crayons and pencils begin littering the wood not covered by un-coloured pages.

He's eager, flipping through the book, pointing out the different dinosaurs and naming them with an enthusiastic flourish that makes you chuckle. But, when he finds one, he stops. Head tilting from side to side, little finger tapping on the page before he sighs.

“This one!”

Grinning, you take a closer look. “Perfect.”

His smile mirrors yours, before he copies the pitch of your perfect and begins grasping for colours as he hands them to you.

“What’s your favourite dinosaur, Luca?”

Pausing, Luca brings his finger to his lips—dabbing it, scrunching his face before it explodes into a grin so large it almost makes you laugh. “Stegosaurus.”

“Cause of the spikey back?”

Nodding, he grins even wider, doing a little wiggle. “His name means roof lizard, you know that?” Shaking your head, he scrunches his nose as the corner of his lips rises. “And, and it used its back to defend himself.”

“He has a little beak too, right?”

Nodding, Luca begins to scribble his crayon onto the page. "You know him?"

“I’ve been doing my research.”

At Luca’s loud wow, and insistence on you using a colour he doesn’t like—maroon, which looks barely used—you glance towards Frankie, finding him leaning against the doorway, arms crossed, fingers lazily tracing up and down the back of his arm, while sporting a soft smile.

Returning your attention to Luca, you spend the next hour engrossed in colouring (a thing you discover you’re doing wrong), dinosaur facts (you’re not sure how he knows so many) and hilarious stories. Finding, with each passing minute, the anxiety sliding from your bones, it falling from you altogether—slipping away, disappearing completely the more Luca interacts.

The two of you only come to a stop when Frankie mentions that it’s almost dinner time, putting the cap on your pen down.

“Hey, Luca. I have to go now. But, I’ve had the best time.”

“You’re not wanting to stay for dinner?” he asks, eyes full of hope as you spot his fist clenched around the pen he’s pressing to the page—the colour bleeding out.

Leaning forward, you smile. “Next time, promise.”

“Okay.”

“Okay. Thanks so much for letting me colour with you.”

Getting up, suppressing a groan as your body aches from having to unfold itself from sitting cross-legged, you find Frankie waiting, his expression soft and tender.

“Hi handsome,” you whisper, taking the jacket from his hands.

Frankie leans down, pressing a chaste kiss to your forehead—all out of view, just like the two of you had agreed. “You did good,” he tells you quietly. “He likes you.”

Heart swelling at his words, you look back at Luca, who is now animatedly talking to his colouring book, and you find yourself unable to stop smiling.

“I like him too,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper.

And as you listen to Luca's excited chatter, you realise just how much you mean it.

Think you have a new fan.

Stop, do I really?

Apparently, you’re very pretty, and old like me, and so I should kiss you.

Well, not that I love all of those sentiments, I do like the last one.

Do you want me to call when he’s in bed?

You not sick of me?

Not even a little bit.

I’ll wrap up these amends, shower and then I’m all yours.

The image of you covered in soap suds is going to get me through the next half an hour of this show.

It vibrates softly against the bedsheets, your smile spreading—replacing the earlier irksome client and the nervousness from your afternoon.

“He hasn’t shut up about you.”

No hello. Just a continuation, as if the two of you had only paused from the texting to now. Biting your cheek, you smile, knees pulling up as you feel your Lee scrunch.

“Yeah?”

“Baby, he’s pulled out books to show you the next time you come round.”

Grinning, you sigh. “He’s really great, Frankie. He’s so funny? You never told me how funny he was, and how smart. God, when he—”

And you ramble.

For longer than you’re even aware of as you accidentally go into a play-by-play from this morning—as though the man hadn’t been loitering, standing close by or joining in when Luca’s stories got more outrageous. A standout favourite had been Frankie saving the neighbour's lion from a tree, which had turned out to be a cat called Leon.

“—Also, how does he know so much about dinosaurs? And, fuck—Frankie. Did I just ramble to you about your own son?”

You hear his laugh, real and airy, flow down the phone. “I like it, don’t worry. It’s nice hearing you ramble.”

“You’re a filthy liar.”

With a deep, resonant snort, his sigh of contentment drifts through the phone, making your body, in response, relax. Every muscle slowly uncoils, back sinking further into the plush comfort of the bed beneath you. Ear meeting the pillow as it wrinkles gently under the weight of your head.

“Did it… do you think it went as well as you thought?”

“Better,” he confesses, hearing the breath he releases with it.

Biting your lip, you settle yourself further into your duvet—resting your back against the pillows. “Have I told you today that I really like you?”

“Pretty sure that’s my line.”

Smirking, you rest your tongue between your teeth.

“And, really like? That’s a new one.”

“Well,” you grin, unable to fight a smile, “Felt you deserved the extra word.”

Rolling your head, you trace your teeth over your bottom lip—hearing it, absorbing it, the way he repeats it back. I really like you too. The words find a home, rather than sliding in one ear and out the other. Burying themselves, slotting into a place so perfect as they fit so snugly.

A comfortable beat passes, a moment to linger in it before he asks about your work—about the latest thing you’re working on. Even if you always feel you’ll bore him, he always surprises you by reminding you he won’t be. Engaged, asking questions. Listening and recalling back to things you’ve said before, that you suspect most wouldn’t have paid much mind to.

But, then, he’s not anyone.

“I think I left my hoodie at yours.”

Humming, you hear sheets rustling, before rummaging. “Um, the—yes, yeah you have. I’ll hang it up for you.”

“Only if you have the space too.”

“Well, this is… awkward. I wanted to do it in person—”

Even if there’s no indication to do so, your stomach knots. Tangles. Your heart slams into your chest as your throat, all of a sudden, dries.

“I… fuck, if this is too much tell me, but I’ve made you some space—in my wardrobe. And a drawer. And—”

“And, Frankie? How much space are you giving me?”

Swallowing, you hear him click his tongue. “Well... I mean, as much as you want, baby.”

“Frankie…”

“Have I… Is it too much?”

Pulling your knees up, grinning. Quickly wanting to fire a text to your friend and scream HE’S MADE ME A DRAWER, only stopping yourself because, instead, you, all high-pitched and squeaky ask if you can swap to video. Fingers trembling, your face filling the screen before you can eventually push it to the corner when his greets yours.

“You’re so sweet, thank you—it isn’t too much. Not even a little bit. I want—if you want—to give you the same.”

Laughing lowly, you watch him slide back into bed—the freckles on his collarbone illuminated by the bedside lamp. “Baby, you have half my tools at your house—you’ve made plenty of room for me.”

“Yeah, that toolbox is a health hazard—it is very heavy.”

“I’ll make sure to move it next time”

Scrunching your nose. “Oh no, I moved it. Managed to find some strength from somewhere to do so. That’s my workout for the week.”

Shaking his head, you watch him get into bed—arm resting above his head, fingers teasing at his curls as he smiles at you—eyes somehow just as bright even in low light as he begins telling you about his day tomorrow.

You watch, noticing the little lift of his lips when he talks about Benny, when he mentions taking Luca to training—which in turn (he explains) means Luca bosses them around and they all have to listen. Then after they’ll go on a boys’ lunch, where ice cream is usually consumed, the tradition having started when Luca was teething.

“Send me a photo—post-training.”

His tongue slides into his cheek, eyebrow lifting as he stares at you.

“Dripping in sweat do it for you, Rainy?”

“I’m not rewatching your Reels because I want to use a circle-saw, Frankie. Plus, you look so good in sweats—that black pair. Fuck.”

Chuckling to himself, he runs his hand over his face—and you imagine his cheeks are warm, that if the lighting were better, you’d see the beginning of his pink embarrassment crawling up his neck.

Yawning and stretching, you reach for your charger, plugging it in before moving to lie on your side, hearing him ask—as soft, and as sleepily, as he would if you were next to him—you comfy, baby? as your heart does a little flicker as you rest the phone against the pillow.

“Very,” you assure him, pulling the duvet closer around you. “Be more comfy if you were here.”

“Would you, though?”

Hesitating, you hum—hearing the lightest laugh come from him. “You’re very warm—like a furnace. I like it.”

“That all I’m good for, warming your bed?”

Smirking, your eyes heavy, you sigh. “You have some other uses.”

“I’m glad I’m useful.”

Settling further into the bed, hearing him shuffle and rustle from his end, you clear your throat to ask, “Do you think you'd rather have a pineapple for a head or a watermelon?”

Even with your eyes struggling to stay open, you sneak a glance to see his grin break out. “I'd love to live in your head.”

“You sure about that?”

Snorting, he shakes his head, fingers pushing the hair back from his forehead. “Pineapple. Sweeter for you to kiss.”

“You're so thoughtful.”

Giggling, you find a response sitting on your tongue, it just not able to form as you hum again—finding yourself so comfortable and warm under the sheets you’re barely able to hang onto his voice until he whispers ‘baby’. A little noise coming from you that in your head is clearly words, but not to anyone else.

Only realising it isn’t when he says your name. Calls it.

“Frankie…”

“Baby, why don’t we hang—“

“No,” you groan, the O sound stretching out—hardly with any intent. More said with tenderness and pouting than anything as you hear him chuckle. “I’ll wake up.”

“No, don’t… don’t do that. I’ll stay—listen to you snore.”

Flicking your eyes open, glaring at the screen. “I do not snore.”

Chuckling, his voice wraps around you like a warm blanket. “Sure, baby. You just keep telling yourself that.”

“Francisco!”

His laugh roars down the phone, making your cheeks hurt from smiling, shaking your head against the pillow as his laugh turns to an ‘aww’.

“Do you know how pretty you look right now?”

“You can barely see me, Morales. Stop trying to flatter me.”

Somehow, his laugh is even louder than it was before. And somehow, your smile is larger too.

NEXT CHAPTER ->

[lani-heart]

|| series masterlist || next // previously ||

genre(s) -> angst, fluff, non-idol, hybrid au, poly au paring(s) -> jung wooyoung x reader warning(s) -> angst, mentions of neglect, mentions of depression words -> 1.9K

abstract -> he just wants to enjoy everything she gives him... while he still can.

wooyoung's perspective

“Wooyoung, stop acting like this!! She’s pregnant… don’t you understand!” he yelled at me. Maybe he’s right… It's not good for her health.

“Yah! You’ve got to do something about this hybrid of yours!” the baby shower guest said… “I know… it's just hard you know? He was my mom’s hybrid” she said… I know I was probably hurting her again.

“Please!” I begged and he scoffed. “We’re here for the baby… not you” he said as he grabbed y/n’s book from my hands and put it back. I missed her.

“Hasn’t he been acting weird?” “One minute he’s jumping off the walls then he’s in a corner?”

“Wooyoung?” I heard as I saw the familiar figure. His name was Kun…. I think? I remember seeing him around y/n. 

“Oh? You know him?” my owner said and he nodded. “He was the neighbor of an old friend” he confessed and they scoffed. I don’t think they really liked her…

“Why are you admitting him here?” the doctor asked and they sighed. “He’s been having these mood swings and it's bad for my baby,” she said and I sighed… I did another thing wrong? “And for your health, honey,” he said. Was I hurting them again?

“I don’t think mood swings are bad for children. In fact, maybe Wooyoung just needs some atten–""Are you telling us what's good for our child?!” they yelled. “No, of course not,” Kun said clearly dejected.

“Well, he isn’t our responsibility anymore,” they said and I felt confused. “This is his information and the application,” they said… they were giving me up?

“Of course, we’ll do that right now”

How long have I been here? It seems like too long…

I smelt a familiar scent… it was coming from a panther hybrid. He was in their red code protocol… was he dangerous?  His application had a clear red highlight… San was his name. 

“You smell familiar” I must've talked out loud since he looked at me but didn’t answer… “Who’s your owner?” I asked… maybe it was them I knew?

“I don’t have an owner, '' he said but it didn’t make sense… “You smell like someone though… it's faint but you don’t have the medicinal scent from here or an adoption center” I said but he scoffed clearly annoyed at the thought

“Hmmm… y/nnie” I muttered… it's the only name I could think of “No way she’s your owner… why would you be here then?” I thought out loud… I missed her. 

“She adopted me two days ago,” he said and I was shocked… When was the last time I felt this much energy? “SHE’S YOUR OWNER?!” I asked and he growled… “Not anymore hopefully,” he said… I was confused. Why wasn’t he happy?

“How can you not be grateful?” I said and he glared while saying... “I’m not a pet,” 

“I would love it if she came to rescue me… I haven’t seen her in years” I said and he didn’t say anything else but an employee came saying she was here for him

“y/n is here?!” I asked and the employee seemed shocked. “Hmm? You know his owner Wooyoung?” the young employee asked and I nodded. “She used to be my neighbor! Can I see her?” I asked  hopefully that he’d say yes but… he didn't. 

“How’d you get so lucky?” I said the stupid panther and he scoffed. “This isn’t luck, it's a curse,” I said and he scoffed. 

They let me see her! She wanted to see me… but not even she wanted me.

Rejected again… I'd never find an owner.

I owe it a lot to the others though… here I was. With the woman I've liked since her highschool days… happy with her and my new best friend! Everything was in the past, she would never abandon me. Right?

I mean the panther and her are now mated…

I was an outcast yet again. “Why are you so quiet?” San asked and I smiled. “Tired,” I said, hoping he’d believe it. I’m only here because of him, she wouldn’t have adopted me otherwise. I was just his plus two. 

“You’re acting like you did back four months ago,” he said. Four months have passed since I lived in those kennels. I don’t miss it… not even a little bit. 

“I’m just tired,” I muttered while laying down on my bed. He didn’t say anything… Instead he left the room. 

I wanna enjoy it all before I lose it all. 

I guess losing it came faster than I thought. I was sitting in the same seat that they abandoned me in. Looking at Kun and the doctor. “You said your visit was because of Wooyoung’s mood right?” he asked. My mood? 

“Yeah… recently Wooyoung has been very down, even San agrees' ' she said while looking at me worriedly. “Wooyoung, do you wanna say anything about how you've been adjusting?” Kun asked and I shook my head. “I love it!” I said with a big grin. It must’ve not been convincing though. 

“What would you like to do?” the doctor asked y/n and she sighed. Was she gonna abandon me now? “I don't know, '' she confessed. 

“We can sign him up for therapy sessions, behavior training, or it might be the home that's the problem,” he said. “If it's the home, then Wooyoung you’d have to tell us and you’ll be taken from her care–” “NO!” I cut off… “I… I'm sorry I didn’t mean to yell” I muttered and I felt her hand rub my arm up and down.  

“Wooyoung, so you like your new home?” he asks me and I nod. I loved it… I really did.

“I’m sorry, Wooyoung but y/n I think it's best if you leave him here at least for the night. We’ll do a check-up, do a mental analysis, and see what’s the problem” the doctor said and I hugged her arm tightly.

“No, please don’t leave me here” I cried and he she looked at me worried. “I don’t think it's a good choice Doyoung–” “Trust us" he asked and she sighed.

She looked at me with a sad expression. “Wooyoung,” she said and I tightened my grip. “Just for today. I’ll pick you up in the morning” she said with her soft smile and I could cry as she petted my head. Why was she leaving me so soon? 

“If anything goes wrong call me” she told them and they nodded as she waved at me with a  soft smile. 

Please comeback...

-> y/n perspective

I couldn’t sleep tonight. San stayed with me all night waiting for me to fall asleep but he did first. I was worried about Wooyoung and why he was acting differently. 

He seemed to have faked his smiles… acted more down and was overall more tired. 

I could only hope he was okay and that he was healthy. 

The morning couldn’t have come sooner. I silently got ready so I didn’t wake up the panther as he probably didn’t get enough sleep trying to stay awake with me. 

I got there early and saw Haechan who tried telling me everything was gonna be fine. 

“Kun is here, y/nnie!” Haechan said as he led me to his office where I didn’t see the lovable fox. “Is he okay?” I asked and he smiled. “You look like you didn’t get any sleep?” he asked and I glared. He chuckled as he put his hands in the air playfully.

“He’s completely healthy… and he’s really happy with you, maybe a little too happy, '' he said, now confusing me. “Wooyoung was abandoned and his owner died. He actually originally asked for you to adopt him and you know that… but with years of neglect and being told his behavior is too much it has affected his mental health. He has an attachment disorder linked with his fear of abandonment.” he explained and I nodded. Was he worried I'd do that to him?

“He tells me San chose you as his mate… and Wooyoung confessed to having this obsession with you. He has since you were in school…” he said and I was shocked. San kept teasing me about it but I didn’t think it was true. 

“So what's the problem?” I am still confused. Kun only sighed… “He thinks you’ll abandon him because San chose you as a mate. That you’ll now neglect him and eventually leave him like everyone else” he explains and I felt sad that he’d think that of me. 

“It's more of his insecurity and his past experiences affecting his mood. You’d just need to give him as much attention as you can and reassure him” he explained and I nodded. 

“Jaemin, will take you to him,” he said and I nodded as I saw Jaemin here shortly waving at me happily. “y/n!!” he said and I smiled. “I’m happy that Wooyoung has you. He used to be so down and always caused Doyoung-hyung to seek medical attention due to not eating” he explained. 

All I could remember was happy Wooyoung who’d see me after my classes. He’d be the one scolding me to eat and make sure I took some rest after studying to not overwork myself. 

“Wooyoung, you have a visitor~” Jaemin said as I saw Wooyoung look at me with sad and relieved eyes. “y/n…” he muttered in disbelief. 

I smiled softly. 

“Let’s go home?” I asked and he nodded. He took my hand as I put his collar back on and we said goodbye to the staff. I held his hand tightly as he stood by closely to me. 

When we got outside I decided to stop. “Wooyoung?” I asked and he looked at me confused.

“Remember in high school that I told you I would always go get street food for dinner?” I asked and he chuckled. “Yeah! But that's not good for you, especially with how much you used to study. You needed a proper meal!” He scolded me and I smiled. “Wanna try it?” I asked and he smiled softly.

“It can’t be better than my food” he challenged and I smiled. “Nothing is better than your cooking… I just think it's nice to have from time to time?” I asked and he nodded. 

“Ok!” he said, now happily looping our arms together. As we walked his tail wagged slightly. “Hey, Wooyoung?” I asked and he looked at me again. “I could never abandon you. I promise that you’re stuck with me forever” I said and his smile dropped softly as his eyes turned teary-eyed. “You don’t mean that. Don’t make promises you can’t keep” he muttered and I smiled. 

“I do mean it! You’re stuck with me!! I promise I owe you so much Wooyoung. More than you’d imagine… in high school, you were keeping me going so thank you” I said and he smiled. “I owe you a lot also…” he said and I smiled. 

“San loves you too. You’ve seen how he is… the only reason he’s given me a chance was for you. So I owe you everything… because of you I'm no longer alone” I confessed and he hugged me. “And because of you and San, I'm not either,” he muttered. 

“You’re stuck with me” he said and I smiled. “I wouldn’t have it any other way!” I said happily as we finally made it to the street food place. 

“So what should we have first?” he asked me and I shrugged. 

“We have forever to try new things. There's no rush!”

@wonuangel @danirael @angelsaway @krissroo @minkysmilk @mayonnaise-on-toast @robertsbbygirl @superbbananananana @hyukssunflower @kitty4hwa @justconniez @senpai-of-doom @kibs-and-bits @caityelise99 @ilovekinny @ateezennie23 @wooahaelemons @purplelady85 @watamotee33@chidess97 @littlelostdemonofthelight @maliamaiden @burntarm1n @spooo00oky @eastleighsblog @momo-peachy @kitstar1117 @quartzpirate @sunnyhokyu @iwishiwasrichasfuck @theginger543210 @pandolinka @ddaeing @kpopnightingale @slid3er @kekdo-520 @puppyminnnie @sparklinghwa222 @calicanbeevil @itsvxlentine @atinism @loumin908 @smally97 @rxnexxi @acetruepunk @majesticbeluga @namjooncrabs @tashizxy @itstheghostofmypast @smilefordongil @teeziny @totallynotlyntv @kyeos4ng @prodsh00ky @acescavern

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[damagedintellect]

ADA Dazai x Reader

💌Obligatory sex pollen fic I guess??💌

Summary: Certain abilities Dazai can dispel outright without touching the user. This has always confused the brunette greatly where the technical line was drawn. During Q's apocalypse, he couldn't bring individuals back to their senses but with Shiwabusa's fog he could prevent Chuuya’s ability from manifesting. Apparently this “Sex pollen” ability was more like the former example. Which left Dazai the only one conscious of their actions as everyone fucked like rabbits.

Notes: Based on a dream I had a few nights ago. At least what I can remember of it. It's got some plot holes & semi ooc but it was hilarious, I had to share it with the class.

Contains: sex pollen, dubcon, pregnancy, mpreg, pregnant Fyodor, Fyodor being painfully religious, 🍋

💌 Wordcount 5,160 💌 Chapter 1 of ?? [I might actually continue this bc I want to see where it goes but not a priority unless ppl like it]

Next chapter =>

After the Shiwabusa incident you thought most ability users left Yokohama but it turns out someone is hunting down the surviving few. It's the reason why the special divisions unit Ango is a part of reached out to the ADA. There had been missing people cases flooding his desk, all with one thing in common. Every last one of them had been ability users. This didn't seem like the work of the Decay of Angles or any other known organization on record. It didn't line up with their past methods and ideologies. Plus Dazai added that Fyodor would never be this sloppy. Most were taken in broad daylight with no concerns about witnesses.

Between Ranpo and Dazai, they were able to sniff out the new threat with ease but they still didn't have enough information to assume the motive behind the kidnappings. Ango could only give so much details to go on because the member of his team that was investigating this case also disappeared. The first priority would be to find the hostages. With that in mind Ranpo insisted on working alongside the remaining guild members and, for some reason Akutagawa. Your guess was that Mori sent him to reclaim some mafia members who vanished as well. Apparently Chuuya was also supposed to join the investigation but ended up being stuck overseas. Instead you were to partner with Dazai.

You and Dazai, Kunikida and Yosano, and Ranpo and Poe were on recognizance while Lucy, Kenji, Kyouka, and Junichiro were on rescue, leaving Atsushi and Akutagawa as a diversion first and foremost but if they can capture the culprits that's an added bonus. Despite splitting up, you, Dazai, Kunikida and Yosano ended up trapped in the same room. Not exactly trapped, you could use your ability to get out but you still needed info.

“This isn't looking good.” Kunikida said flipping through the radio frequencies. “The signals jammed.” He looked up at Dazai as he nodded. “They know we're here.”

“We walked into a trap” Dazai gritted his teeth. There was no way to warn the others. He pushed you out of the way frantically typing at the computer that you finally hacked into. You look back at the scattered files on the desk. You were kicking up dirt. So far you've found a comprehensive guide to all the missing people. Which you already had from Ango. The only difference is that this seemed like a test subject profile. The more you read through them the more you realized they really focused on the compatibility of certain abilities. That's when you smelled something alluring and you dropped everything. 

Dazai heard the clattering and ignored it. He was pissed off. It felt like he was missing something glaringly obvious. He slammed his hand on the desk muttering under his breath.

“Anyone else find-” Dazai stopped mid sentence as he took in the sight infront of him. Kunikida and Yosano were looking at each other lovingly as they hastily stripped, and pulled the other close. That's when Dazai finally noticed the faint pink dust in the air. An ability?

“I know what they're trying to do.” You said standing in front of the distracted brunette. He snapped out of his stupor when you gripped his shirt. Your pupils were dilated and your breathing was ragged. Biting your lip, it took your last bit of sanity to not jump Dazai. You took a deep breath. “P-please touch me, before I can't think straight.” Your eyes were narrowing on his lips. The desire to kiss him while you fuck like rabbits was swirling in the pit of your stomach.

He reached out to touch your forearm but it didn't do anything to help clear your head. “Shit, you gotta be kidding me” You are trying to fight your impulses . Internally you moaned at the touch. Your head lulled forward pressing into his chest. You couldn’t describe it but something about his scent was luring you in. This is really bad. Dazai looked over to Yosano and Kunikida. They were being really lovey dovey and handsy. He gulped as he felt you unbuttoning his vest. He grabbed your hands to prevent you from undressing him further. “Stay with me (Y/N). What's their goal?”

“They,” you inhaled heavily “no I, want you to fuck a baby into me!”

Dazai blinked back at you dumbfounded. He took a step backwards, that's what he was afraid of. They were up against a sex pollen ability user and he was the only one not affected. He tried to push you away but he was conflicted, you had him pushed against the wall with your body. Dazai has had a soft spot for you that he never intended on tapping into. A crush? A sexual fantasy? He didn't want to explore it but here he was letting you paw at him while you stripped away your clothes. He's had dreams about this and now it's actually happening but it couldn't have been at a more inopportune time and place. Just staring into your horny hungry eyes already left him half hard and he cursed his body for reacting this way.

“Dazai don't you love me?” You cooed.

Love was a strong word, he would rather not think about but he was left at your mercy as you crashed your lips on his. He groaned into your mouth. This was the best and worst case scenario. Best because you are forcing yourself onto him and not someone else. He could only imagine the jealousy he would have felt if you ended up with any of his coworkers. Although this was the worst because he knows he’s not going to stop your advances. Slowly he slid down the wall and let you crawl into his lap. He couldn't say no to you. Dazai has always made sure to keep everyone at a distance but not you. His head and his heart couldn't be bothered to make decisions right now. He found his hands caressing you just as feverishly as you were feeling him. He should stop. Dazai was in his right mind you were not but your touch was intoxicating. He let you unzip his pants and set his member free. Dazai threw his head back as you fully engulfed him. You were so warm and wet with no prep needed, ready to take him in. This was wrong but it felt so right. Dazai has always found it easier to beg for forgiveness than ask for permission.

You were kissing his jawline and bouncing on him with such vigor he wasn't going to last much longer. You were both a mess and as he felt your walls shake around him he held you in place and finished you off with a thrust of his own. You both were spasming in bliss as he hit his climax. He had been too enthralled with his own pleasure; he forgot to think about why you all were here in the first place. He was about to ask you what it was you found when he felt you roll your hips again. 

A jolt of pleasure washed over him as he gently held your hips from doing that again. He just came, he needed a minute. Dazai was easily overstimulated and he feared that he might not have a choice in a moment but while he still had the strength he needed to do something. 

“But Dazai~” You whined into his ear “You need to fuck a baby into me! Once isn't going to cut it.” You struggled to move as he pinned you to the floor. He hoped with this new position you wouldn't be able to do that much damage before he was capable of another round. On the other side of the room he could hear Yosano and Kunikida still going at it. Sounds he really never wanted to hear from either of his colleagues. Dazai weighed out his options, grabbing for the files you dropped earlier. He dug out his phone. The signal was back, probably because they knew everyone would be incapacitated. He tried calling Ango to update him that the plan failed and everyone needs extracting now before the rest of you get captured.

—

When you finally came too you were exhausted and sticky with Dazai’s arms wrapped around you. You tried to push him away but his grip only tightened as he cried out “Aaahng~ Stop moving! I can't take anymore! Nghh~” He was trembling and breathing heavily like he was going to pass out.

“D-Dazai?” You don't remember anything past when you dropped the papers. You tried retracing your steps. It finally occurred to you that you were sitting flesh against Dazai’s lap, feeling the fullness of multiple rounds with his dick pulsing inside of you. You choked on a moan as you involuntarily clenched around him. The events of the evening were catching up with you. You had been begging Dazai to fuck you which is something you had always wanted to do but never had the guts to say. You've had a crush on him since you joined the agency but never tried to pursue a relationship with Dazai. Mostly because he was a massive flirt to most women. You would reciprocate his flirty jokes and he always gave you a look like no one's ever done that before. Playful banter aside you don't think it meant anything on Dazai’s end.

 He whimpered in your ear again “hmmmng P-please don't move I swear I’ll explain. I just need a minute. You've been riding me for an hour I-” He was panting desperately trying to catch his breath. His fingers were digging into your skin to keep you as still as possible. “sex pollen user, couldn't stop it. Fuck” 

You felt Dazai lift you up to pull out, gasping as his body slumped against the wall. You tried to move out of his lap but your legs were numb. Although the slight movement made you feel the cum dripping out of you. Your head was a mess. The words “you had sex with Dazai” were repeating like a mantra. 

 “I'm so sorry-” you had started to say but he grabbed your shoulders “It's not your fault. I could have stopped you at any point but I didn't know if we were being watched.” Which was true but definitely not the reason he didn't stop but you didn’t need to know that. “As soon as everyone was affected they stopped jamming the signal so I managed to have Ango send reinforcements. I should be the one apologizing for taking advantage of you.”

You were both at fault but not at fault. Net neutral you guess? You didn't dwell on it because you don't remember. Still you were embarrassed by everything. You know you weren't in control of your behavior but still. Dazai was being too dismissive about it. You wanted him to look at you disrespectfully. You understand that the mission comes first but you're still a woman. You have assets he should be ogling at. Like right now as your clothes were long forgotten about besides you. 

As soon as you opened your mouth Ango and his men busted down the door. Apparently the rescue team managed to move all the hostages to Anne's room before the sex pollen hit the air and they were just waiting for it to dissipate. So the mission was not a complete failure like you thought. If anything you'd have to wait to see what Ranpo and Poe had discovered. All you were able to report was that they were trying to match make compatible ability users.

Ango tried helping you to your feet but your legs were unstable and you were back on the ground in a matter of seconds. It made getting redressed a challenge but Yosano was able to help. The doctor wasn't nearly as fucked out as you were but considering Dazai let you have your way with him it makes sense. Since your legs were still wobbly Dazai ended up carrying you out. This flustered you way more than the realization of having sex with your crush. His cum was currently inside you and somehow being princess carried was what made your head explode. You buried your face in his neck as you met up with the others. No one batted an eye except Ranpo who smirked and gave you a thumbs up. 

On the bright side everyone seemed just as disheveled and out of it. You don't blame them either. Ranpo and Poe were probably just fine, you've always suspected that they were that close already but Poe was extremely skittish more so than usual. Both Atsushi and Akutagawa looked traumatized. Kunikida was in a similar state but Yosano didn't mind one bit. If anything, her being unfazed was unnerving everyone. Well everyone but Ranpo, Dazai and Akutagawa but you doubt Akutagawa would care even if he wasn’t so distraught at the moment. Whatever the case it was interesting watching everyone's reactions to whatever happened tonight. You were just glad that Lucy, Kyouka, Kenji and Junichiro didn't have to go through it.

By the looks of it the sex pollen user got away but Atsushi and Akutagawa did manage to tie up some goons for further questioning. After a quick debrief Yosano came up to you and pulled out a sealed tablet, instructing you to take it as soon as possible. A morning after pill, you assume. It suddenly clicked why she was so casual. Every time you've gone out drinking with Yosano she's always managed to go home with some attractive stranger. This was similar to one of her drunken escapes except this time Kunikida was the victim of her flirty advances. Poor Kunikida looks like he's about to kill himself for stepping outside of his ideals.

With everything seemingly done and dusted you all went home. Ango drove you all back to the dorms and you managed to walk to your room just fine. You were still haunted by the events you don't remember and you want to ask Dazai but then again maybe you don't. If you don't remember you could almost gaslight yourself into believing that it never happened. That way you could still preserve the idea that your first time with him will be special. Although based on the fact he dismissed it so easily, you don't think he finds you attractive in a sexual sense. Again you'll never know unless you talk to him but it's still embarrassing for you, but hey it could have been worse. Originally you were supposed to be on a different team had Chuuya not been overseas. Or maybe it was because Chuuya wasn't here that the ability user was able to incapacitate all of you. None of you were captured so it's fine. 

Within the next few days everything went back to normal. Well close to normal, you still couldn't look Dazai in the eyes but you haven't partnered with him since that night. Currently you were with Kunikida and Atsushi for a mission. The boys have done most of the work but as you were finishing up one of the bastards tried to take you from behind. You dodged the initial attack but as you went to retaliate you froze. Your ability wasn't working. You ended up getting shot twice before Atsushi was able to get to you.

“My ability is gone, I can't feel it at all.” You coughed up blood holding your wounds. It wasn't fatal but you were losing blood and fast. Your vision was starting to sway as you were rushed to Yosano.

When you woke up you were in the infirmary at the agency. Atsushi was still getting checked out even though the tiger would ultimately heal any major injuries. As you sat up you felt the pain of the two bullet wounds. Normally Yosano would use her ability to fix it instead of letting you heal naturally. They both looked at you with a wary expression.

“Atsushi, can you check if Dazai’s done and send him in?”

He only nodded before scampering off. You tilted your head at why Dazai needed to be called in. Yosano sat next to you “How are you feeling? Are you able to use your ability now?”

You tried really hard but no dice. “I feel like I've definitely been shot twice but more unnerving I can't feel my ability at all. What's wrong with me?”

She nodded, handing you a cup. “I'll try to explain it if I can, but I need you to get me a urine sample. How long has it been since you ate?”

You looked at the clock you had breakfast at 9 and it was currently 4, whoops that means you skipped lunch. “About Seven hours?” 

“I can give you painkillers after you get blood drawn. Not being able to feel your ability is throwing me a curveball so I want to make sure I check all my bases.”

“Okay.” You grabbed the cup and made your way to the bathroom. As you stepped out into the hallway you nearly bumped into Dazai, whose look of concern didn't go unnoticed but you only bowed slightly before you hurried off.

By the time you came back Dazai was already in the room. Yosano took the urine sample and walked into her office for a second before folding her arms across her chest. “There’s no eloquent way to put this and honestly as a doctor this is the grossest thing I've had to do but the reason why you can't use your ability is because Dazai’s sperm is probably still swimming around in your uterus.”

Your face started heating up as you stuttered “I-It's almost been a week how is that possible!”

Dazai hummed “Oh, so that's what the sample was for.” 

Yosano rolled her eyes “Unfortunately” she frowned before she continued her explanation. “Technically it's only been five days and that's about the cut off for irregular sperm lifespans.” She walked back to her office and came back with two negative pregnancy tests. “I wasn’t too worried about the results since you took the contraceptive but it's my job to be thorough. You should be able to use your ability by tomorrow unless Dazai’s sperm is just as hard to kill as Dazai is.”

Dazai shrugged, “I'm just surprised this hasn't come up before. Back when I was-”

Yosano put her hand up “I don't need to hear the rest of that. It's bad enough we had sex ten feet away from each other.” Yosano looked back at you, “Until you get your ability back I won't be able to use my ability on you either.  For now you'll have to heal your injuries the normal way.” You nodded.

Unfortunately as tomorrow came you still couldn't use your ability. You glared at Dazai who laughed at the situation. He was having a field day with how powerful his seed was. You haven't told the others what was going on but you're sure all the adults understood why you were out of commission. Kenji was the only one who kept asking questions you genuinely didn't know how to respond to. He was so innocent and Dazai was playing into it. This was killing you. How are you supposed to forget that night if it's all anyone is talking about. Not to mention that you were basically tied to your desk for the time being taking painkillers like candy.

A few more days later and to mostly Dazai’s surprise, since Yosano was out on a mission, you still couldn't manifest your ability. This was getting ridiculous. At first Dazai joked about it almost having a sense of pride but today he had been awfully quiet and no one likes a quiet Dazai. 

You had been more tired than usual. The injuries were taking their toll so you got up to make some tea in the office kitchen to help you relax. Today was a fairly busy day for everyone, but you. The others were all coming and going but you were still confined to the office. It was a jarring situation,  typically Dazai was the only one who had to heal like a normal human being. You sighed, pouring your tea. 

“Still nothing?”

You turn around to see Dazai holding a small paper bag, leaning against the doorframe. You shook your head. “Still nothing.” You didn’t want to think about it but you set your tea down motioning to the bag he was holding “Is that what I think it is?” You took a pregnancy test the other day, Yosano gave you a pill, this really shouldn’t be happening. Actually, did you even take the pill? Thinking back you were exhausted and out of it and you remember drinking water and going to sleep but did you not actually take the pill? Your head was hurting just thinking about it.

“Only if you want it to be. I can throw it away if you'd prefer.” Dazai put the bag in his coat pocket as he approached you. “To be honest I'm not sure if I want you to find out either. Logically I doubt you are, because if you were, then your ability should have come back by now. My DNA would have turned into our child's DNA and the nullification should have stopped.” He stood next to you leaning back on the counter. “However if you somehow are, I fear it wasn’t just a sex pollen ability at play.” He grit his teeth yet another ability he wasn't able to negate the effects of.

You looked at him eyes wide. That was their true goal. “They were trying to breed ability users.” He nodded as he looked down.

“That's why they waited for us to show up. I have a feeling they were after one of our abilities. Which is probably why Ranpo paired you with me. A copycat ability is already strong as it is but in the wrong hands it would be astronomical.”

You swallowed hard “I don't know how I feel about this. I kinda don't want to know because if you're right then what? If I'm pregnant then somehow everyone is pregnant? How would that work for the guys? Would you want to keep the child, or wait if it's an ability, is it even possible to keep the child?” You looked at Dazai, he was clearly uncomfortable with your questioning. “I guess I should probably take it before I work myself up over nothing.” You held your hand out lowering your head, waiting for him to give you the test. He raised an eyebrow “Do you want moral support or?”

“Depends if it's positive are you going to go buy milk and never return?”

“No promises, I never planned on having kids.” He shrugged.

“No really? I'm surprised” you said sarcastically “I've always wanted kids but I don't think this is the right time.”

Dazai stood outside the bathroom while you paced back and forth. The wait was killing you. You still had a minute left. Grabbing the test you opened the door. “Dazai we're friends right?”

“I would say so. Why?” He gave you a quizzical look. 

“I just wanted to make sure that you don't hate me? I don't know, that might change in a second.” You bite your lip as you flip the test over. Sure enough it was positive. Dazai leaned over your shoulder causing you to nearly drop it. “Well, I still don't hate you in case you were wondering. If anything I hate that what I speculated may be right to some degree. Which is more annoying than anything else.” Dazai's eyes narrowed thinking about, for lack of a better moniker, the anti-Fyodor. What were they trying to gain out of making more ability users?

Dazai didn't move and being in his proximity after finding out he did in fact fuck a child in to you, was making you dizzy. “I need to lay down”

You moved sluggishly as Dazai reached out and touched your shoulder “If you need anything just let me know. I'm the one who's responsible for all of this. I'm not going to make you do this alone.”

You both made your way to the couches in the waiting area as Ranpo came back from his mission. Dazai pulled him into the other room presumably to update him on the situation. That this “threat” isn't over and indeed was just the beginning.

You carefully laid on the couch your thoughts were scattered. On one hand you were glad it was Dazai but at the same time this just makes your relationship more complicated. As your eyes slowly close you realize you never actually drank your tea either. There was a good chance you forgot to take the pill too, it's probably still in the pocket of what you wore that night. Yawning you shifted to make yourself more comfortable. It had been hard sleeping the past few days but the pain has decreased significantly today. You were so lost in thought that you didn't even notice that Dazai draped his trench coat on your sleeping form. He stood there for a moment thinking about how cute you looked while you were sleeping. 

He wondered if his kid would look as cute. Speaking of kid, he should probably check on Ranpo. Dazai only took a guess at who the other possible pregnant people were but knowing that Ranpo is often lazy and chooses to forego physical activity if he could help it, he wouldn't doubt for a second that he had Poe do all the work. As he walked into the bathroom Ranpo was already using his glasses to stare down at the pink piece of plastic. The detective frowned, discarding the spectacles. 

“I blame you for this.” Ranpo showed the other the result. “This probably means Atsushi is also pregnant?” He took a deep sigh before adding “Things are about to get a lot more complicated.”

Dazai frowns. “No kidding.”

Ranpo smirks, opening his eyes to look at you on the couch before addressing Dazai again as he walks away. “Congratulations by the way.”

—

 It had been about a month and morning sickness was no joke. You would rush to the bathroom midsentece if you even felt remotely queasy which was a stark difference to how the other two handled it. Ranpo had placed waste receptacles around the whole office but still ended up puking out the window once or twice because he couldn’t be bothered to move the three feet to use a bin. Atsushi on the other hand would grab a waste bin but would end up swallowing it half the time off of pure reflex because he didn't want to waste food. The first time you watched him do it you and Ranpo immediately grabbed for a bin. Today hadn't been too bad for the nausea but you might have spoken too soon. You watched Atsushi perk up standing up from his desk.

“Knock knock!” out of thin air a familiar yellow portal appeared at the entrance. Your favorite jester took a bow before he opened his cape to release who knows what into the office.

“Nikolai!” Atsushi was the first one to jump into action as the rest took a defensive stance waiting for a fight. Dazai pulled you behind him as Fyodor casually stepped through the overcoat. “Long time no see, Dazai.”

“Fyodor, why are you here?” It was more of a statement than a question. 

The air was tense as Ranpo crossed his arms “Don’t tell me you're also pregnant!” Everyone looked shocked and waited for confirmation.

“I am and the child is an affront to god. That is why I've come to inquire your services. I require assistance with the abomination.” He motioned over to Kunikida “I made an appointment under a different name.”

Kunikida raised an eyebrow as he looked through the client meeting list and sure enough there was one scheduled for an ambiguous medical inquiry. “You came to get rid of the child?”

Gasping Fyodor looked taken aback. “Absolutely not, for a man to be pregnant is a miracle. Although most doctors are ill equipped to accommodate for the male anatomy.” He placed his hand over his stomach for emphasis.

Dazai rolled his eyes. “I thought you said it was an affront to god?” He crossed his arm clearly trying to upset the other.

Fyodor glared at Dazai. “It is but having an abortion is a worse sin than the child being born of wedlock. Nikolai will simply kill the child after they are baptized. I am here to take advantage of your doctor, as they are already overseeing male pregnancies.”

Atsushi was confused how Fyodor was even in the same situation to begin with but even more so now after hearing his reasoning for coming to the ADA. “Why don't you guys just get married? I don't know, it just sounds like a lot of work if you plan on killing the kid anyways.”

“Do you have any idea how difficult immigration can be? It is disgustingly time consuming to get married overseas.” Fyodor groaned “Not to mention the child will be a Japanese citizen while Nikolai is Ukrainian and they do not allow dual citizenship, it's all so messy.”

Ranpo walked up, putting a hand on Atsushi’s shoulder. “He's right you know, it's a massive pain in the ass.”

“Of course it's a pain in the ass we're here on work visas. I'm not dealing with immigration, I'm a terrorist not a psychopath.” Fyodor seemed to slump into Nikolai’s side as the white haired man held him upright “Dos-kun you should probably sit down.” the russian nodded and let Nikolai lead him into the waiting area.

Yosano looked over Kunikida's shoulder. “If they have an appointment I guess we should at least hear them out. Especially if what he says is true and he is with child.” This was all incredibly bizarre for everyone.

Dazai nodded “Fyodor wouldn’t make his presence known if he didn't have something up his sleeve. Any insight Ranpo?”

Ranpo had his glasses on and shrugged “It all checks out. He's not lying about genuinely coming here for medical attention but I suspect they were accidentally caught by the sex pollen. They probably had planned to wipe out as many ability users as possible but underestimated our opponents just as we did.”

You turned to go make tea but Dazai immediately grabbed your arm “I'll handle the tea. I don't want him getting too close to anyone just in case he tries to pull something.” His serious expression softened as he patted your head. “You should go rest for a bit too. You're still healing.” You nodded with a light blush on your cheeks.

[lebenspurpur]

what do they smell like

AN: I know I did this before, but I need to correct myself. Plus, it was like 2 years ago, so..

ℝℤ 𝕄𝕚𝕔𝕙𝕒𝕖𝕝 𝕄𝕪𝕖𝕣𝕤

Most of the time, he smells like sweat and that sweet coppery odor of blood.

That changes whenever he actually decides to take a shower and change his clothes.

Suddenly he smells like nothing. And I mean nothing.

If you inhale deeply enough, you might get a faint whiff of sanitizer, like the kind they use in hospitals, but that's it.

You can decide for yourself if that's a blessing or a curse.

𝕍𝕚𝕟𝕔𝕖𝕟𝕥 𝕊𝕚𝕟𝕔𝕝𝕒𝕚𝕣

Paraffin wax.

So he smells like plastic and, like, the worst kind.

Maybe you need to convince him to use some bee wax candles for a change. Or some wax that smells like something nice, at least.

Which makes me think of another headcannon: Vincent hates the smell of cheap scented candles. He can not stand them. You'd think his nose might be desensitized to bad smells by now, but no.

The only scented candles he allows in his basement are the expensive ones, with real dried flowers or some good essential oils.

Other than paraffin wax, he smells like his body wash, which is the same as Bo's.

(You can not convince me they do not share one. Maybe buy him some nice shampoo while we're at it.)

The smell of the wax easily overpowers anything else, though.

𝔹𝕠 𝕊𝕚𝕟𝕔𝕝𝕒𝕚𝕣

Bo prides himself on owning some really nice cologne.

So, if he applies that, he actually smells really nice.

Other than that: cigarettes.

I feel like he actually has a nice smell, though. He smells like someone who'd call you sugar, if that makes sense.

𝕃𝕖𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕊𝕚𝕟𝕔𝕝𝕒𝕚𝕣

I know, we have the ongoing joke of Lester smelling bad, but I've changed my mind.

Of course, after working, he smells very bad. Like a dead animal that has been cooking in the sun for way too long.

But he's a clean boy! After he takes a shower, he smells like a mix of leather and something flowery, airy. Kind of like a freshly picked bouquet of wildflowers. Don't ask me where that comes from.

When he's been crafting something, he also smells like hot glue and wood, but it's not powerful enough to be unpleasant.

𝔹𝕣𝕒𝕙𝕞𝕤 ℍ𝕖𝕖𝕝𝕤𝕙𝕚𝕣𝕖

Dust.

Like, you know when something smells old because it's been standing somewhere without being touched for too long?

That's what he smells like.

He doesn't need to, though. He probably has an arsenal of really expensive perfumes and colognes standing somewhere in that mansion.

After he meets you, there's a slight chance that he'll take more care of himself. And in that case, he will finally use those fragrances.

As soon as he does that, he smells like that mansion looks. Rich, educated, charming, handsome even.

𝕋𝕙𝕠𝕞𝕒𝕤 ℍ𝕖𝕨𝕚𝕥𝕥

Hay, dry earth, Tommy smells like a hot day on a field.

When he spent some more time in the basement, the smell becomes even earthier and damp. Like a crypt.

Though, most days the 'warm' smell is stronger and it's really wholesome. When you hug him, it feels like you're hugging a cat who's been lounging in the sun for a while and got all heated up. (I just want to hug him, man.)

𝕆𝕥𝕚𝕤 𝔻𝕣𝕚𝕗𝕥𝕨𝕠𝕠𝕕

Now, that man smells bad.

Rotting corpses, vomit kind of bad. It's not good.

When he does his makeup and actually showers, it's not that bad anymore. Then, he just smells like the makeup he applies (you know, the stuff they paint children's faces with?) and (probably Baby's) body wash.

𝔹𝕒𝕓𝕪 𝔽𝕚𝕣𝕖𝕗𝕝𝕪

Baby loves sweet perfumes, especially when they have a fruity note (pun intended).

She has a few fragrances she always uses, and they make her smell really nice, and really sweet, kind of like candy.

If she doesn't apply those, she smells like lotion and body oil.

Pretty, that's what she smells like.

ℝ𝕁 𝔽𝕚𝕣𝕖𝕗𝕝𝕪

Motor oil, leather and rain.

Motor oil from working on the trucks all day long, leather from his jackets. Where does the smell of rain come from? Don't ask me.

He smells really masculine in that sense, like a ride on a motorcycle.

𝕁𝕒𝕤𝕠𝕟 𝕍𝕠𝕠𝕣𝕙𝕖𝕖𝕤

Do corpses emit smell if they're still alive?

Well, Jason does.

He smells like wet earth, rain, and the forest. A really grounding smell overall.

Hugging him feels like laying on the forest ground after it has been raining for a while. In a nice way, though.

It's really refreshing, and really pleasant.

𝔸𝕞𝕒𝕟𝕕𝕒 𝕐𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕘

Amanda uses really nice body wash. Something that smells like pine needles.

Other than that, she smells like old metal and disinfectant.

Old metal, because she spends half of her days designing traps and disinfectant because of John.

[koritoraa]

Accidentally revealing to you they have a mommy kink ❦

A/n: who have a mommy kink & it’s canon ? Luffy, Sanji & Zoro!

Ft: Monster trio that’s what the girlies saying

❦ Luffy

You and your boyfriend Luffy were playing a fighting game, the both of you were very focused on winning and had y’all eyes glued to the tv screen. You and Luffy play this game all the time and you always won; today was no different, the only difference was the new surprise attack that you memorized. The room was kind of silent, the only two things that filled the room was heavy breathing and the sound of buttons being smashed. The round was coming to an end and you quickly glanced over at Luffy who was panicking at the upcoming lost that you was about to give to him. You just laughed at him and use the special move that you had up your sleeve. Usually when you win Luffy would rage and throw a whole fit but not today though, he was really impressed and excited at you destroying his character.

“Wow mommy that was a really cool move you did there, I wanna learn how to do that !”

you quickly sat up and looked over at Luffy, you wanted to verify what you just heard, cause you know you wasn’t tripping.

“Huh ? What you just called me ?”

“I called you y/n.”

“No you didn’t, I heard mommy.”

You heard him the first time but you just wanted him to repeat it because it sounded like music to your ears and truth be told you’re screaming without the s right now. But that’s not for Luffy to know, all you know is that you have to hear it again. Luffy tilted his head to the side and looked at you very confused, he wasn’t sure why you was asking him that.

“Hm, wym ? I called you y/n. anyways I’m going to get something to eat, I’m hungry.” and like always when he’s in a situation like this he’s gonna change the subject and act like nothing happened. You love your bby but when he do shit like this it make you wanna slap him in the back of his head.

❦ Sanji

You woke up from your sleep to the smell of breakfast and the sound of quiet singing. You knew it was your boyfriend downstairs making you something to eat as he always does in the morning. You didn’t feel like getting up just yet so you stayed in your bed and started scrolling through your phone and looking through posts online. Few minutes passed by and you heard the sounds of footsteps walking up the stairs getting closer and closer to the room. When your boyfriend Sanji finally made it to the door you looked up at him and the food he was holding and gave him a smile.

“Good morning my love, I made you breakfast here you go.” You took the plate from Sanji and gave him a quick kiss on his cheek.

“Thank you baby, I appreciate it.” as usual when you kiss him & thank him Sanji started shutting down.

“You’re welcome momm- beautiful anytime.”

You looked up at Sanji who face was now bright red and started laughing at his reaction. He was really embarrassed so before he can be anymore awkward he decided to change the subject & quickly moved onto to talking about something else. You wasn’t surprised at all that he called you that since you already seen the obvious signs and the way Sanji can act and plus he would call you any name in the book so ofc mommy wasn’t off limits. It’s just your clothes bout be off that’s all.

❦ Zoro

You and your crew was in the middle of a battle and you notice while your boyfriend was fighting with an enemy another one appear behind him. Zoro already sense that someone was behind him and he was about to quickly finish them off until you jump right in front of the enemy’s attack and block the attack with your own.

“Nice save momm- y/n.”

You was kinda of surprise at what you heard, your boyfriend was about to call you mommy. You didn’t think he was into that type of thing but if he is then that’s fine with you cause now y’all on the same page. After the battle ended you asked him about what happened earlier and he said it was a simple mistake. You didn’t believe it so you just bully him for the rest of the day.

“So you was about to call me mommy earlier?”

“No it was a mistake, you know I was about to say y/n.”

“nah you said what you said, and it was mommy.”

“whatever I’m not about to do this with you, I’m taking a nap.”

He already knew you was right about the whole thing he just didn’t feel like getting awkward about it again so that’s why he used taking a nap as a excuse to not have that conversation, probably someday but just not today.

[lunatic-pudge]

Spy SWF Headcanons

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TW for SH in the U section

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A: Affection (How do they show affection? And how affectionate are they?)

Poor Spy can be iffy with affection. There are days he enjoys being able to cuddle up with his partner, and other times, he needs his space. It all really depends on how he's feeling that day. He'll usually let you know when he's having one of those "don't touch me" days. Also no PDA in front of the other mercs. If you guys were in a different area where no one knew you two, then he's a little more open to it. But only little things like hand holding, little kisses here and there, an arm around the waist, that sort of thing

B: Best Friend (What would they be like a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

Good luck trying to befriend this guy. Lots of trust issues. Lots of commitment issues. Cause of his line of work, he can't just be going around befriending people, plus he's kinda an introvert. Finding comfort in being alone with some alcohol and a book. But once you do befriend him, you got yourself such a sassy queen. He's the perfect person to go to if you're looking for some juicy drama, fashion advice, or just someone to BS with. I can see him being such an unintentional mom friend too. Fussing over you while acting like he doesn't want to and has better things to do. He doesn't like showing people that he cares

C: Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

He does like a good cuddle, he really does, but remember,  there's times he just can't handle physical contact. He claims that he has to be the big spoon and how dare you wanna spoil him by being the big spoon. But with some determination and patience, you can get him to cave him and let you spoil him. It takes a while cause he's not used to being doted over like that. plz help him

D: Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking & cleaning?)

Spy? Settling down? Such a preposterous thing! Okay, but like, he's never really let such thing come across his mind. He's like Medic in the sense where he's so dedicated to his work. It's all he's ever really known. I'm sure he's thought about settling down when he was actively with Scout's Ma. Cause think about it. He's got a baddie that loves him. He's got a son (and a bunch of step sons). But there's a reason why he wasn't there, there's a reason why he left. Imma get more into it later though.

But as for cooking and cleaning? He's def up there with Engie when it comes to who's the best cook. He just doesn't like having to cook. To go through all that work and mess, and only be made to share with everyone else. He'd rather just go to some fancy restaurant or wait for some merc to make dinner (depends on who's cooking). And he's definitely the cleanest one of all mercs. He can't stand messes. His bedroom and smoking room are in such perfect condition. The only way you can tell that someone was even in the room is from the perpetual smell of cigarettes and a bottle of alcohol/glass that's been moved

E: Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

Due to his commitment issues, it's very hard for Spy to be in a relationship. He's got too much trauma and baggage for anyone (and even himself at times) to handle. Sometimes, he does the right thing and tells the person that he can't do it anymore. Other times, he'll just up and leave, never to be seen again. Yeah, it's a real shitty thing to do, but it's what he feels he has to do. It's easier for him to just disappear and act like he never existed. He doesn't know how to cope with his issues and it shows

F: Fiancé(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

Yeaaah, no. Absolutely not. Never. Marriage is a line Spy doesn't have the strength to cross. Dating is one thing. Marriage is a whole other thing. He could believe he's with his soulmate and still woudn't be able to propose. The thought alone fills him with anxiety. If you wanna be with this man, you gotta understand that he ain't ever gonna pop the question. Not even as an old man on his death bed. The most he can do is get you a pretty ring and let you say that he's your husband, but even that can be a little too muc

G: Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

Spy is a lot more gentle than you think. More so physically than emotionally though. He will love all over you as much as you want. Emotionally, it can be tough. He's a good person to vent your worries to. He does give some real good advice. But if you ever want him to let his walls down and open up, that's gonna be something that would take YEARS to do. He can let little bits of info out, but nothing too big. He's trying though. It's easier for him to hold you and let you spill your worries out to him

H: Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

Hugs are only in private or if he's trying to show that he's better than the person who's trying to win your affections over. His hugs aren't the best? Like, it's basically hugging a chain-smoking skeleton in a suit. I'm also gonna go on a limb and say that he's perpetually cold (cause he ain't got no meat or fat on them bones, ya know) so he'd use hugging you as a way to warm up. You wouldn't let this poor old man freeze to death, would you? Also, homie's got some of the NICEST cologne ever. So yeah, while he's got that constant cigarette smell to him, he also smells divine? I dunno. He's weird like that

I: I Love You (How fast do they say the L-Word?)

Ain't no way in hell this man is saying I love you first. And yet at the same time when you say I love you for the first time, he might cry. Spy might think he's some bad boy who pulls bitches like no other, but deep down, he's just a boy who's been through hell his whole life, never was able to cope with it in a healthy way which led him to down a rabbit hole of essentially made everything worse (I'm trying to not derail this entire post, plz help, I'm struggling) But he will say it. It'll take a while, but it's worth it when he says it. God, he could probably write a whole ass novel on why he loves you

J: Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

I wouldn't say that Spy is a jealous person, more so he just likes being able to woo/seduce you in front of the person who's trying to flirt with you. It fuels his ego. He knows he's better than that pathetic excuse of a person that thinks they could ever be on his level. It's one of those times he gets to be so smug and prideful

K: Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

Oh boy oh boy, does this man know how to kiss. He's got the experience,  he's got the skill, he can easily make one little peck on the lips turn to a full make out session. He will leave you breathless. He will leave you wanting more. And he won't stop til he's satisfied,  gosh darn it! And I know you ain't gonna stop it. I know that you want this Frenchy, disgusting. (I'm kidding, plz, I luv u, don't leave yet)

L: Little Ones (How are they around kids?)

Now Spy has never really been much of a kid person. Like, he can tolerate kids, but only for so long before he needs to leave the room to recoup from how chaotic kids can be. Now, I'm sure that when Scout's Ma told Spy she was pregnant, he was over the moon with how happy and exciting this news was. And I bet he cried when he held Scout for the first time. I bet you he still has baby pics of Scout hidden in his room he looks at when life isn't going well. But remember, there's a reason why he left. And as he got older, dealing with kids became more of a chore to deal with. He's a mercenary! He doesn't have time to be dealing with kids, he's got a job to do, man!

M: Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

He's GRUMPY in the mornings. He just wants to be left alone til he's ready to deal with everyone. And since he's an old man, he's up early. I... I don't think he sleeps to be honest

N: Night (How are nights spent with them?)

He's got a whole ass night routine he follows every night before bed or he'll kill someone. He tends to stay up late so he tends to not get much sleep at all. He won't cuddle when he first goes to bed, but then if you wake up in the middle of the night, he's all cuddled up with you, refusing to move. It will take a while for him to let you spend the night with him. He doesn't like having to sleep with his Balaclava on. He does get frequent nightmares though so be ready to be there to comfort him

O: Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait awhile to reveal things slowly?)

As I said before, it takes Spy a very long time for him to open up about himself. And even then, he isn't gonna tell you everything. It's just not his thing.

P: Patience (How easily angered are they?)

This is another thing that's weird. Like it's a 50/50 sort of thing, but also depends on the person? When it comes to his partner, he tends to be more lenient with them as compared to someone like Scout or Soldier. I would say he's also good at keeping a level head, unless he's stressed out, then oops

Q: Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every detail in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

Oh honey, this man knows EVERYTHING about you, whether you told him or not. Even the most private things like your family's medical history, he knows it already. Don't question it. As a matter of fact, why are you even questioning it? He's a spy! of course he knows all these little things about you. He never forgets >:(

R: Remember (What is their favourite moment in your relationship?)

It was the moment you let him doll you up for the first time. This man wouldn't stop going on about how he wanted to dress you up and do your makeup (if that's something you're comfortable with). FInally, you gave in and let him. And boy, was he ready. He already knew you're measurements and was so quick to take you to the tailor and fit you in an outfit that costs more than your house. He'd do your hair, nails, makeup, he'd go all out for you and make you look like a GOD (or goddess)

S: Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

He can be rather protective of his partners. He will literally have you living in a luxury house, filled with security, in a country of your choosing if it means to keep you safe. And, man, if you protected him, he'd be at a loss for words. He wouldn't even know what to do. He'd be so confused as to why you would ever wanna protect him? He'd probably get upset and scold you for putting yourself in such a dangerous situation

T: Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, and everyday tasks?)

Homie's going ALL OUT. He loves being able to go all out and show off. You guys will be dressed to the 10's, at a fancy restaurant, eating some of the finest foods, and you sure as hell are getting spoiled with gifts. Every occasion is a chance for Spy to spoil you and show off how perfect you are. Don't fight it, he won't listen

U: Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

He's got a lot of bad habits. He doesn't know how to cope with trauma well. He's definitely someone who has or actively self harms. I'm sorry to say that, but it's just something I can see. Also he chain smokes. He's ALWAYS smoking, never giving himself a break

V: Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

Oh you know he is always concerned about his looks. Even if he's got his Balaclava on, he's still fussing over his appearance. He'll fuss over yours too. He wants you both to constantly look your best. Even a tiny speck of dirt if your cheek is the end of the world for him. He will fuss about it for HOURS

W: Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

Spy is very much used to being alone. He can handle it. He'll miss having you around. You were always his favorite person to complain to. But he's not worried about it. He's a tough cookie

X: Xtra (A random headcanon for them)

Finally, I can say what I've been wanting to say. >:)

I fully believe that Spy is still in love with Scout's Ma. He most definitely is still in communication with her. Helping her out and even coming to see her when he can. That's his baby mama! He can't just abandoned her like he has with every lover he's had. He does still very much care about her, even if it's hard for him to express it and such. He only left so her and the kids could stay safe. Him being there just causes problems. She was the only one who was willing to stay with him no matter what. Even now, with Scout being an adult, she's still around, sending him letters and even gifts.

Yeah, if you couldn't tell, I'm a hard Spy x Scout's Ma defender. Their relationship may not be perfect, but God does it have me in such a chokehold, and I'm not really one for shipping

Y: Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

Spy don't want no slob. He has very high standards. He doesn't want someone who's sloppy and doesn't take care of themselves (I smell some slight hypocrisy here)

Z: Zzz (What is a sleep habit of theirs?)

Awful sleep schedule. What even is sleep? He stays up late like a youngster, and wakes up early like an old man. I basically said what needs to be said up in the night section, oops

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[wordsvomit101]

2. Late night snack

(2 years after the death of Mr and Mrs Lee)

It's late, almost midnight, yet here he is, cooking japchae as quietly as he can not wake everyone else in the house in front of the girl who was sitting at the kitchen table, looking wide awake for someone who should be in bed. With an impish grin on her face while she hums a pop song that he can barely recognize due to just waking up. 

Minhyeok, despite his heavy eyelids and a yawn escaping him, still with nimble fingers, sizzles fragrant sesame oil in a well-seasoned wok, the air filling with an alluring aroma that teases the senses of the girl who praised:

"Smell great as always Min"

"Why would you even want to eat at this ungodly hour anyway?" He said but his hands still deftly tossed in vibrant julienned carrots, their orange hues illuminating the wok like miniature sunbeams. The carrots dance and twirl, absorbing the warmth of the oil, their sweetness beginning to caramelize. 

Raon flashed a mischievous smile, "Oh, I just felt hungry all of a sudden. Plus, I wanted to keep you company while you cook. You know, teamwork!" 

She said as he added long, translucent glass noodles, their delicate strands resembling silken threads. They coil and soften in the hot oil, absorbing the savory flavors of the carrots. 

Minhyeok raised an eyebrow, unconvinced by her playful act. "You're rarely this hungry at midnight. What's really going on, Raon?" He glanced back at her as he stirred rhythmically, ensuring even cooking. As the noodles reach their al dente perfection, he incorporates a symphony of vegetables: crisp bell peppers, earthy mushrooms, and tender zucchini. Each ingredient contributes its unique texture and flavor, creating a harmonious balance.

Raon was quiet for a bit but tried to keep up her demeanor, shrugging nonchalantly. "What? Can't a girl not get a craving every now and then? I don't want all that effort to wake you up to go to waste, you know" she quipped, while carefully avoiding his gaze.

"You don't need to lie, not even I convinced when groggy like this"

With a deft flick of his wrist, he pours in a rich, mahogany-colored sauce made from soy sauce, garlic, and ginger. The sauce coats the noodles and vegetables, infusing them with umami-rich goodness. 

As the japchae nears completion, he sprinkles in a generous handful of toasted sesame seeds, their nutty flavor adding a final touch of complexity. He looked back at her again to see her looking at her fidgeting hands, gaze far away:

"…Maybe I just want to see you being a night owl for once, who goes to sleep at 10:30 on the dock like you?"

"Sure, sure. But really, what's on your mind? You can tell me," he pressed gently, concern evident in his voice.

When he gently lifted the japchae from the wok and arranged it on a warm serving dish, it made her look up to see his worried face. The vibrant colors and tantalizing aroma create a visual feast that beckons one to indulge. Raon hesitated for a moment, her laid-back facade crumbling. 

With a sigh, she finally said in a grumpy voice, "Your food really works its magic as always..." but continued in a quieter tone, "I had a nightmare earlier. I just... needed something to distract me from it." Her eyes glistened with unshed tears, prompting Minhyeok to pull her into a comforting hug.

"Hey, it's okay. Let's have some japchae and talk about it," he offered, and Raon nodded gratefully and picked up the utensil from the kitchen counter before joining him.

Raon smiled happily as she took a bite of Minhyeok's japchae. "Wow, Min, this japchae is absolutely delicious! You really outdid yourself this time." 

With each bite, the flavors meld together harmoniously, creating a symphony of textures and tastes. The carrots provide a sweet crunch, the glass noodles a tender chewiness, and the vegetables a medley of textures. The savory sauce envelops the palate, leaving a lingering warmth that satisfies the soul.

Minhyeok chuckled modestly and looked at Raon fondly, it's a nice feeling seeing her like this, "Oh, it's nothing special, just my usual recipe. But I'm glad you like it."

They chatted about their plans for the next day, deciding to go to a new cafe that just opened in the town this weekend and go to the library the next day for their upcoming exam. Raon was trying to keep the conversation light, enjoying the normalcy of it all.

Suddenly, Raon's expression shifted, her brow furrowed slightly. "Hey, Min, about the nightmare... I saw them again but it was different this time"

Minhyeok's smile faded, concern taking its place. "Sure, what happened in your dream?"

Raon recounted the vivid images of her parents' corpses, the usual scene that plagued her for years, but this time it was different. "But this time, I saw a glimpse of a white feather, so beautiful, like nothing I've ever seen before. Along with... these slash marks all over the furniture"

Raon chewed her lips before her words poured out in rapid succession as if trying to escape the grasp of her memories. Her breaths came in short, panicked gasps, and Minhyeok could see the fear etched across her face.

As she described the tall man with pure white wings and the haunting loop of her parents' screams, Minhyeok instinctively pulled her into a hug. He held her tightly, letting her emotions wash over him as he tried to convey his support without words. Gradually, Raon's breathing began to slow, her trembling subsiding under the reassurance of his touch.

In the quiet moments that followed, Minhyeok remained by her side, giving her a moment to her thoughts to ease herself. The weight of her dream lingered in the air, heavy and unsettling, but he knew that his presence was the best he could offer her at that point. 

As the clock struck midnight, the stillness of the night was abruptly shattered by the soft voice of Raon penetrating the darkness. "Minhyeok, do you ever get tired of me?" she asked tentatively, her tone betraying a hint of vulnerability.

"It's not Min this time..."

Minhyeok, without missing a beat, responded with a reassuring "No. I'm happy you trust me enough to depend on me." His words carried a deep sincerity that only a true friend could muster.

Minhyeok understood why Raon had asked him such a question. He knew that Raon had been struggling to cope with the loss of her parents and that it had taken a toll on her daily life. His family had taken her in after the tragedy, treating her as one of their own. And he, being the one person she truly trusted, so he felt a sense of responsibility towards her well-being. It was presumptuous of him, perhaps, but he knew it was what her parents would have wanted for their beloved daughter. 

"Even if I do, you can rest easy because I would still be there. I'm your friend after all"

[thisishowgalaxiescollide]

You're honestly so close to getting me into nico/jack it isn't even funny anymore 😂

Anyway, if you're willing, give me the final push there and/or your fave fic (if you're reading any). I know I am tempting fate here but... Yolo. 😌 I accept it.

Come, friend, to the dark side. no, seriously, though, they make me ridiculously happy. Like, we don't have to do anything as a fandom because they already do the gay and the loving for us.

I must confess I haven't been reading much lately because work and life have been complicated enough to keep me from doing much more than reblogging a few things here and there. BUT my past self used to read, so I have a few treats for you, <3

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So, like—was he just not supposed to notice, or—?

So, so, so good!

Caveat Emptor, by Kerfluffle

Summary:

Two months of advance preparation—memorizing detailed building blueprints, stalking specialists on LinkedIn, reading The $12 Million Stuffed Shark—and Nico gets fucked over by his turtleneck. Or, Nico lands himself in hot water after a recon mission goes awry.

Delightful and sweet.

50 Ways to Leave Your Lover, by Kerfluffle

Summary:

Unlike some supernatural disasters, theirs starts ordinary—with a harmless bar bet.

Fluffy, horny and funny. Great characterization.

kiss me on the mouth (set me free), by coastalhighway

Summary:

Headlights as bright as Jack’s should be illegal, probably. Nico locks the door behind him - three twists, one two three - and counts his steps to the car. He gets to twenty-seven and opens the door, and Jack smiles at him, sharp as a razor’s edge. He smells like smoke. “You good, baby?” he says, and Nico wonders if he tastes like smoke, too. Smoke and lies and broken mirrors, a nasally voice whispers in his ear, breath hot on his cheek. You broke the mirror, soothsayer, sweet-talker. Liar, liar. Nico sits down in the passenger seat. “Drive.” Jack doesn’t bother asking questions. He drives.

Gorgeous. Jack calling Nico "baby" has me !!!

deep into that darkness, by countthestars

Summary:

Quinn’s whole thing is talking to the dead, but Jack’s gift is dealing with the living.

Amazing. Quinn needs a nap and jack is a brat. I love him a lot.

Double Play, by dilangley

Summary:

This is minor league baseball, long days in little towns no one’s ever heard of playing games no one will remember once the lights go out.

This one blew my mind and broke my heart simultaneously even though I know nothing about baseball.

sense of expectation, by greenteam

Summary:

“No, no, hear me out on this…” Jack’s mind is running a million miles a minute as he tries to compile his thoughts into something even vaguely coherent. “I don’t have to go out and find someone new to be in family photos who I know I’m gonna turn around and dump the next week. And you get a free invite to the Hollywood wedding of the century.” Nico looks pensive as he lounges back on the sheets. “I think Ellen would give me an invite anyway.” Jack facewashes him for that. (or: 5 +1 plus ones)

Adorable.

won’t believe half the things i see inside my head, by rafting

Summary:

Jack can’t perfectly shift into anyone anyway; he has to concentrate and base his shifts on what he’s seen, what he knows of someone else’s face and body. So he’s never a perfect copy, often missing freckles or getting the hair or eye shades slightly off. He can’t shift his own dick into someone else’s if he’s never seen it, which is what most guys want to know. He thinks he’s got Nico’s face down pretty well. He’s spent enough time looking at it by now. or, the USNTDP is a program designed to help mutant hockey players control their powers, and Jack’s a shapeshifter who is starting to suspect Nico can read his mind.

Very interesting concept.

take the wheel, by greenteam

Summary:

Nico rakes a hand through his hair. “I just worry. That’s my job. You drive, I worry.” “I thought your job was to fix,” Jack says instead of doing something stupid like kissing Nico.

Just !!!

The tag is thriving, though, so I've probably only scratched the surface. I need to get go back and start reading again. One day soon.

[thedevilshardy]

What they will do to you - Tom Hardy Character Study

Part III - dirty!

James Delaney

This man does not only do magic somewhere in his house or in the woods, but also inside you. Forget everyone you knew before you were allowed to climb into bed with James!

His seduction doesn't start with dating, no. He makes you dream of him, crawling into your pretty night's sleep like he belongs there. These dreams make you pulsing, your inner walls won't stop contracting, ruling your body and your whole soul. Your screams are so loud you know everyone will hear it. But all you can do is clawing to your sheets and be dream-fucked the finest.

God - there's teeth, nips, bites, howling hums out of the depth of his throat while he claims you. His hands are your new leader, and they keep you where he wants you to be. Only in high dizzyness, drunk with lust, will you know what he does with the velvet cuffs and ropes, that sneak around your body like the snake out of garden Eden.

You've never kept your legs that much spread just to let him rut between them. All wet sounds, rattling bed, bitten off moans.

You never knew an orgasm can keep up this long, leaving you shaking, leaving you completely boneless. But you can't move, these bondage stripes keep you there in your high...

Eames

He's smart, and you know he's a damn good player for everything that lies beyond the curtain. His sometimes terrible choice of colours still makes him even more interesting.

As a gambler, he knows how to play. He needs to keep his mind occupied - that's why he can lick your pussy and still tell you how fucking good you taste on his tongue, with a smug smile.

He loves games, that's why you find yourself wide-legged and wet on his lap, riding his swollen dick like there's no one watching. "Come on, show Daddy how you make him cum"- ohhhhh, that raspy voice so close to your ear.

Eames doesn't like to get off just in bed. You'll find yourself spread out on a gaming table, on the rattling washing machine when you wanted to do laundry, you get fucked mindless bend over the kitchen counter. Plus, he uses his skilled fingers to double your orgasm.

Would never admit it, but he's an absolute fan of cuddling after. Although he'll sneak out of the window at night, once you fall asleep.

Eddie Brock

He seems a bit shy sometimes, and it's you who needs to take the first step. Although you can feel his intense gazes right on you whenever you move.

Absolutely gentle at first, might push you over the edge even before you two get completely started. He just knows how to touch a woman and make her go all soft beneath him.

His in-and-out-game is goals. His dick just glides perfectly well into you, out of you, deep, hard, just fucking touching and pushing everything right. He's got a tight hold on you, keeps you all wet and wanting, whispering filthy things into your ear.

He goes wild, you can feel it, smell it, sense it, in and out - oh god, he's so good, but wait, was that a dark tentacle sliding around your wrist, pining you down to the bed...?

It is a dark tentacle, and it holds you tight, keeps you down, and there's another one, sliding wetly between your legs, it's so omgfuckinggood and suddenly you feel so stretched out and fucked open, longing for air...

So, that's it so far. I would have Max Rockatansky as a backup, if anyone wanna have him (did I miss someone else that is absolutely turning you on?) - and I'm always open for any wishes. Thank you so much for reading, sharing, liking, commenting! It means so damn much to me. 🤍

[missielynne]

CBS Ghosts Review: Isaac's Wedding

I specifically remember telling a Nonnie that I didn't think the stripper would be a big problem but turns out he wasn't NOTHING (at least in the context of Nisaac.) I love how they made him absolutely everything Isaac could want in a man INCLUDING hating Hamilton and having no sense of smell (which is why I was really rooting for him to die and become a ghost because it would have been just perfect for Isaac.)

I know Nisaac was the big point of the episode and the main gay rep for the show but I really like that Isaac was showing interest in someone else too so they didn't go through with the wedding. Was the timing perfect? No. But ever since the Christmas episode when Nigel slept with Jenkins based off like a one day estrangement and constantly let the man lurk in the background without being firm about where they were, I've soured on Nisaac at least where Nigel is concerned, so the thought that someone could be so perfect for Isaac as he is made me so happy (plus I like the idea of Isaac being willing to explore the dating pool instead of just marrying the first guy who wants to because he's afraid he'll never find anyone else.) He deserves better than that, and both he and Nigel deserve better development so they have a deeper, richer story, which is why I'm glad the writers took the chance and didn't go through with the wedding, even though it would have been good for representation. They built up a reason in the story why there shouldn't be a wedding so it wasn't just for shock value, allowing both our men to grow as people.

Now...the same cannot be said for our would-be throple: it took all of two seconds for them to put Thor and Flower back together again and I am not happy about it because the way they're writing it just allows the romance (which is written in a way that doesn't fit either Flower or Thor's characters at all and consumes them at the expense of the family and friendship connections that make both lovable and enjoyable to watch.) I can only hope that now that they've said "I love you" and seem to be on stable relationship ground, they'll start to make them more compelling.

My favorite part of the episode was definitely Pete on the island. I definitely felt the happiest I've ever felt watching him on this show so far. Donna was absolutely perfect for him: they were from around the same time, they found one another attractive, she found his goofy way of flirting ("My wife is terrible, I'm single") sweet and endearing and really got into his water-rafting role play without treating it like something silly or him like some sort of a dork and that's the kind of relationship he deserves. I was literally so sad when he started to disappear and the only way to fix it was to go back to a place where he isn't as appreciated as he should be and has to do all the work to make things peaceful and happy.

His speech at the wedding was so nice and so real, and I love that it was what made Isaac realize that there was more out there for him. No one thinks anything he says is that sort of meaningful, so that was nice...even if it did ruin things for Isaac and Nigel, but at least Nigel seems to have taken it well. (And I'm glad that even though it's weird, Baxter has Carol. He's been a third wheel in the shed for too long.)

And then we get to Patience: I love hearing Flower talking about her and how she was built up. (Also Thor and Nancy's "Just smile and nod" as she talked.) The first time I watched the episode, I didn't see the figure of Patience with her face obscured by her bonnet so that was creepy the second time around. And when she finally kidnapped Isaac, aided by the basement ghosts, that was the creepiest "God bless you" before he was grabbed that I've ever heard, but I loved Nancy's "let's not tell anyone about this: it's not a good look for us."

It's good payback for the ways Isaac's choices have affected other people and I can't wait to see what happens to him next!

Well, that's it, folks! The last review of CBS Ghosts season 3. It had highs and lows but there are definitely several eps that I will add to my rewatch list as we wait for a full season four (which I will also review when it premieres this fall.)

Cheers and happy Ghosts watching, everyone! :)

[theknightmarket]

This is like the most random concept to probably ever come to me so out of the blue, you don't have to do it if you don't want to, but also I feel like if anyone could make something interesting out of this it'd be you. (love your fics btw<3)

So like, Illinois, with his whole knock-off Indiana Jones bullshit, with an s/o who's similarly akin to James Bond...….yeah idk either, man- You can come up with whatever action movie plot, or maybe just some domestic fluff with comically abrupt fight scenes sprinkled in cus that's just how chaotic I imagine their life would be. It's entirely up to you. I am very tired rn.

“Berlin, 1996.”

In which Illinois and his partner – in more than one sense – relive their meeting.

TW: cursing, blood, drug use, general mature themes

Pages: 12 – Words: 5,000

[Requests: OPEN]

The distant sizzle of waffle batter on a pan was the first thing you recognised when you woke in your bed. The smell of coffee wafting from the same place was the second, and the third, while a strange sensation to anyone else, was comforting to you. Your dog lapping at your hand that dangled over the side of the bed had you shaking yourself from the fuzzy grip of sleep. It was going to be a long and laborious process considering the amount of work you’d had for the last week, but this was finally a day that you could spend doing whatever you wished – which, right now, looked a lot like following the sweet scent of breakfast into the kitchen.

Moriarty led the way, the beautiful puppy, although actually a six-year-old Belgian Malinois, whom you had adopted a few years back. He had never liked many of your friends, and you trusted his nose enough to follow his advice. Sure, it might have seemed weird to take social cues from a canine, but he hadn’t steered you wrong yet. Whether it was a Russian spy you’d accidentally offered coffee to, or the smuggler who moved in down the road, Moriarty told you when people were off, and that just happened to be most of those you came in contact with. You’d long since given up making connections when the tenth potential acquaintance had turned out to be the head of some mafia you’d never even heard of. 

And then imagine your surprise when you finally brought home someone he liked. 

And your further surprise when he stayed the night, and then the morning, and then a week, and then a month, a year, and so on, until you should have been asking him for rent. All the while, Moriarty hadn’t made a peep, leaving you to your devices with this new and, for lack of a better term, strange fellow.

“Morning, gorgeous!” 

Speak of the devil and he may appear. 

That ‘devil’, affectionate, of course, was none other than the infamous Illinois Jones. A man chased by many, found by few, and held onto by only the luckiest of the lot. You were one of these people, aware that you had him in the palm of your hand, and you thanked him routinely in the morning with a kiss on the cheek for staying. 

The clock on the oven flashed a sharp 08:41, an unusual time for Illi to be awake at, but you weren’t complaining. Your job was stressful; you were sure that any doctor would tell you to quit immediately with how often your blood pressure spiked, so you treasured these couple of moments when you were given a break. Your partner had an on-and-off relationship with missions, the things he preferred to call adventures, but he had a likewise relationship with the agency itself. He had a habit of running off to foreign lands without permission, looking for trouble and finding it, too. You wouldn’t mind it, had it not been for your unfortunate love of the man that drew you after him, like a dog on a leash. In the meantime, a good rest was well deserved, now that you were back in the comfort of your own home after an unexpected visit to Guyana. 

Plus, he looked damn good in boxers and an apron. 

You lazily wrapped your arms around his waist, unintentionally distracting him from the food he was preparing, and muttered into his neck, “G’morning.”

“If you want breakfast, you’re gonna have to let me cook, babe,” he laughed, though that didn’t stop him from leaning back into you. 

Your only response was a muffled groan. It wasn’t your fault that you were so touchy-feely today. Work took up most of the daylight, and upkeep stole the rest away. The only time you really got together was in the late hours of the night when twilight would draw a sheet of privacy over the two of you and leave you alone. The stars would dance together, fireflies entertained themselves and you could just be together. Forgive yourself if you wanted to savor the minutes. 

Alas, you couldn’t stay at Illinois’ side forever. You’d have to come out of hiding eventually, and now was as good a time as any, so you drowsily shuffled towards the front door. The rusted latches groaned with a mere press of your hand, swinging open with an inching pace. Immediately, a gust of dry air trampled past your face, and the faint smell of dust had you sighing more than breathing. It was a classic Louisiana morning, something you haven’t experienced in a long time – not for a lack of breaks. No, although your recent schedule has been clogged, this quant place was a safe house paid for by the agency, meaning it wasn’t only yours to begin with. It was difficult to get used to using the same amenities that a stranger had just a few days ago, in a room that had a tagline of ‘safe’, but you got over it. It just meant that sanitizing every surface was the chore of the first day. 

Illinois didn’t have those reservations; the second that he stepped out of the truck, he declared it home, and went on the search for a good cave. He only agreed to come over camping in the wilderness because of the free food. Or, at least, that’s what he said. There was a small part of you that was sure it was because he didn’t want to be alone, you having no chance to agree on tents – and there was a big part of him that knew you were right. 

You laughed to yourself, pulling a porch chair into the orange sunlight. Being a safe house, it was surrounded by the thickest stretch of trees in the state and, even further, lakes and rivers that made it looked untouched by human hands. The second day had been spent exploring nature together. Illinois tugged you by your hand through bushes, over boulders, underneath a couple fallen trees, all the way to the perimeter of the land. From atop a small cliff, you could see the start of urbanization, but it was sheltered by a haze of smog and lights. The city stayed alight until well into midnight and beyond, like a dying campfire, only to be fed at the crack of dawn. 

A similar flicker of a flame shot into the air in front of you. 

The metal of your lighter was calming, the grooves of the ingrained letters basing you in the present. ‘Berlin, 1996’ was written in small italic near the lever, making it unlikely for you to ever resist the temptation of running your fingers over the markings. It made you smile and, from time to time, had the added benefit of you putting the lighter back in your pocket. This was not one of those times, but a grin did spread over your lips, nonetheless. 

The flicker met the end of a cigarette, which you promptly pulled towards your mouth when it took the flame. Illinois didn’t like the fact that you smoked, he always said how he wanted to be fit in his 90s, but you weren’t cheering for him when he jumped 20 feet down for the fun of it either. The compromise you came to was that both of you would continue to indulge the devils on your shoulders and could laugh at the other’s funeral if they died first. 

In all honesty, it was not a situation that you liked to be in. The constant, looming cloud of loss scared you more than any danger the agency put you in ever could. Nights spent waiting for Illinois to come home, the fear that time would go by, and the sun would rise and set again, and the door wouldn’t open… it was damn-near paralyzing. The only thing that kept you going, ironically enough, was that same man. At least, if you went on the same jobs that he did, you could keep an eye on him. You would know what kind of danger he was in, and you had the chance to stop it. The question was: would you be fast enough?

You took another drag of your cigarette.

“You shouldn’t smoke, y’know.” The porch crackled as Illinois stepped onto the wooden planks. “It’s not good for you.”

“I hadn’t noticed.”

A light-hearted chuckle brushed against your ear, accompanied by the click of his boots and humming of cicadas. The deep sound stopped when he swung another chair next to yours. As he came into view, you saw he had replaced his apron with a simple, loose shirt that fell from him like a woman who had fainted in distress. To catch Illinois in a shirt that actually fit him would be to kill the king – impossible and, according to him, a crime punishable by death. 

“You know,” he spoke up, “you don’t look like the rumors.”

Your head unconsciously twisted to the side, so that you could see Illinois only slightly better. His own gaze was fixated in the distant spread of trees. Questions as to what he was starting at batted against you, but you settled on making a curious noise, instead. 

“When we first met, I thought you’d lied to me. I’d heard all these stories about a suave, collected, expert of a heartbreaker, and then…”

“They were proved incorrect?”

He took in a steady breath. “No. They were proved, uh, very correct. Actually, after hearing about you, I kinda,” he coughed, as though that would transfer his thoughts directly to you and take away the need to say the words, “made some assumptions that were not as correct.” 

Illinois prided himself on being right most of the time – and expressed himself as being right all of the time. However, this was one of the only things that he would admit he was wrong about, this being you. The image he had conjured of you was snide and snobby, only in it for themself and with the biggest case of holier-than-thou syndrome he’d ever thought of. Those stories of you driving fancy cars had pushed him into a corner, trapped by a cage of disgust and partial envy. Then, the rumors of how many people you had seduced worked their magic, followed by a notorious habit of smoking and drinking, which designated you, though he perished the thought now, a scumbag. 

But when he’d actually met you…

“And I’m, uh, glad they weren’t.” 

He swung an arm around your chair, drew rough fingers across your collarbone and directed your jaw into facing him. The light breeze shifted your hair like a lover’s touch, and the yellow sun decorated you like a bespoke artwork. Something he’d steal from a museum if he had to, but, no, he had you sitting right in front of him, with the quirk of an eyebrow and a small smile on your lips. He was lucky, he knew that, and he thanked his lucky stars every time he woke up next to you in sparkling mornings, every time your hands brushed when he pulled you up from a ledge, every time your eyes met from across a ballroom. 

The first time that happened was still something he treasured more than any bespoke jewel or painting. 

“Let’s get this business started.”

The night was young, the guests were pleasantly tipsy, and you were perched at one of the centre tables, next to three attractive models and the focus of your attention. 

At this moment, you and your company were in the Berlin Operetta House, a classic establishment with smoke and liquor running through its veins. You had joined in – for lack of anything better to do while biding your time – and had been seated with these four the last two hours. The women you had no information on, except for what you had observed in the time given, most of which boiled down to being pretty faces for the big guy sitting across from you. 

Earnest Whimson, dramatic irony demanding repentance of his parents as he was anything but earnest. He’d made his living on buying and selling anything he could get him tobacco-stained hands on, be it stolen goods, illegal drugs, or people themselves. It was a desolate trade, rotten but protected by the wallets of the people at the top. In those cases, there was only one person the authorities would routinely turn to. 

You. 

The authorities, the uncorrupted minorities, would plead with your agency for help, and you were the first person on the list. Call it luck or honed skill, you didn’t care. What you did care about was getting the job done in a quick and efficient manner. These places weren’t good to stay in for more than a day, lest you want to gain a certain reputation in all of the sectors. Thus, speed was top billing this night. That, and types like Whimson made it hard to keep your cover with the way he was talking. 

Luckily for you, nine o’clock was rearing its head, the lights were dimming and only a few people were left still chatting over their expensive dining. All eyes were directed towards the stage with fervor, those who didn’t know what was happening watching in piqued interest and those who did waiting with bated breath for the real show to begin.

You did know what was happening, you were indeed waiting, but your breaths were slow and steady, like a smooth rock in a brook. The plan was simple; starting at nine, you’d watch Whimson, make friendly banter with him while he bid on whatever items caught his eye. When he inevitably would call out a ludicrous amount of money for a bejeweled crown or statue and the night comes to a close, you’d excuse yourself and make your way to where that thing was located, wait for Whimson, and kindly dispatch the man before anyone could catch wind of what happened. The money he had taken out the few hours before would go to any witnesses, and you’d get back home in time for a smoke and martini.

Simple. 

Except your life had to be hard, didn’t it? You couldn’t just have a plan and stick to it, without something going wrong. Why? You didn’t know. If it had to do with karma or just bad luck, you didn’t know. A pity, really, when it would have made it so much easier to fix it if you did. It almost made you laugh, the thought of what a normal, easy mission was like. 

And the things that went wrong never stayed the same. In one instance, you’d find your getaway driver with a bullet through his skull – in another, your target was informed of your mission and managed to get away – sometimes, it was just raining. 

Right now, the thing that went wrong was something that had never happened before. 

That thing being the infamous Illinois Jones. 

Not even half an hour into the auction, and yet this man, adorned in an open, off-white shirt and multiple belts, was leaping onto the wooden slats. Your jaw would have been on the ground had it not been for the table, if not for his bravado, then for his stupidity. The artifact Whimson had bid on – go figure, a bejeweled crown – slotted nicely into his hand as he snatched it from its marble pedestal, shocking the woman presenting it into stumbling back. A wink was sent her way, she ran off, and Illinois turned to the audience. 

You listened as he spoke. You sat quietly, pretending that you were shocked, when, in reality, you were seething. The boiling of your blood was louder than the whispering of the bidders, and you found yourself restraining the urge to run up there and slap him for ruining your mission. Questions preoccupied your mind while he lectured the guests about the importance of culture and integrity. Why him - why now?! He wasn’t even a part of the agency, he shouldn’t have known about this bid, and yet there he was, like a smug reaper coming to steal your soul into hell. Did he even know you were there? Did it matter to him?

You only noticed Illinois had stopped talking when he swiveled on the heel of his boot, presumably struck a pose, and then stalked off the stage. Everyone was in such a shock that they didn’t stop him, at least, not at first. After a few seconds had passed for people to gain their composures, that was the cue for havoc to befall the room. Illinois had single-handedly converted an organization of logical, fat cats into a daycare for screaming toddlers; suited men pushed themselves away from tables and darted down the hallways, bodyguards unequipped their guns and set about searching for the adventurer, while some of the wives, understandably, stayed to sip on white wine. You would very much join them if it weren’t for Whimson leaning over to his personal bouncer to whisper in his ear. 

“Get the street rat.”

You sighed and took a final swig of your drink. Illinois was a menace, sure, but you weren’t willing to let him die for his ignorance. The agency may have applauded you as you returned, but you had maintained something of a moral compass during your work, so you liked to think you wouldn’t let him die like this. As you said, the man was infamous, and infamous people would not find their ends at the hands of a capitalist bastard’s lapdogs. 

The clink of your glass against the wooden table did not draw Whimson’s attention, but, if it had, he might have been able to avoid the bullet that wedged itself into his skull. You had aimed for his temple, and you were a brilliant shot. The smoke of your pistol camouflaged itself into the ceiling’s belt of fog. Cigarettes, similar to the one you now pulled out from a pocket to light. This job was not only stressful, it was stress. No mission could be easy, no day could go according to plan, and no panicked mob of refined guests could leave the building in an orderly fashion. People swarmed to the exits at the sound of the gunshot, tripping over one another and abandoning their guests to, presumably, your slaughter. 

You took a drag of your cigarette, pressed it between your lips, and gathered the suit jacket that had been on the back of your chair. Movements slow and deliberate, it was a wonder how the guard dogs Whimson had sent to Illinois hadn’t turned around yet to catch you. Good for you, but stupid on their part. Nevertheless, you were out of the manic tide of bidders before they could even realise their owner was slumped against the mahogany, brain matter splayed on his dress shirt. 

The sound of clicking dress shoes amidst the cacophony of panic sent leftover guests into hiding, with the thought that anyone that calm in the sea of chaos was in control of the situation, and that anyone who wouldn’t do anything to stop it was not to be messed with. This gave you the perfect path towards your new target. Calling out Illinois’ name was unnecessary, given you could already hear distant shots echoing down the hallways. 

And when you came to the end, asking where those gunshots were meant to hit was also unnecessary. 

The wall behind Illinois was pepped with holes, like a coral beach, while Whimson’s bodyguards looked relatively unharmed. From your position, it looked like Illinois was doing everything he could to dodge the bullets, and nothing to actually fight back. Putting your cigarette out on a recently polished cabinet, you delved into the fray. 

The first man down was yours, with an ornamental vase smashed against his skull, the kind of ones only used for grasping at when someone’s strangling you, but they still worked well to knock him out. Next down was his friend, who charged at you with intent to kill, but a shard of the broken porcelain stuck in his throat sent him to the ground. Blood trickled from the cut like a damaged water fountain, but none of the others paid him mind. Really, how would they ever survive without comradery?

You didn’t know, because they wouldn’t; Illinois, in tandem with your bloodier style, brought a table leg down onto another of the staff, the frail wood cracking the second it touched his head. The man whirled around with fury in his eyes, but those soon rolled back with the force of a punch to his face. You watched on, subtly impressed, though now was no time to ogle. Instead, you could do so after these people had been dispatched. 

Strikes to the lower abdomens, blunt-force trauma to their foreheads, and what you hoped were lethal cracks of bone kept everyone wanting to live away from the corridor. You brought one dress shoe down on a woman’s fingers, sighed at the pitiful crunch that was muffled by her scream, and then stood up to assess the situation. One, two, three- four, two were on top of each other, and the one that Illinois was currently bashing against the wall. That made five at the scene.

Six, if you were to include the one that popped a bullet past your thigh. Lousy shot, they barely grazed the clothing, though it was a shame; that outfit had been one of your favorites. 

Swiping a hand to your gun, you whirled around to see a particularly bulky bastard rounding the corner you’d come from. Illinois jumped to your side to look at the arrivals and took notice of your weapon in quick fashion. If only he had more trouble with brutalizing that last one, you might have hit the bullseye.

But a pressure on your wrist distracted you enough to miss. With your target swiveling to look at the newly cracked mirror and one end of the corridor swarmed by suited staff members, your night was only getting worse, and you lamented as such while Illinois dragged you down to the only available exit. 

Your job required a lot of running – more than the average desk job did, at least – and that was why your legs were able to work on autopilot despite the adrenaline working through your veins that pressured you to be aware of every little thing that crossed your mind. The shattered glass from dropped plates, the swinging of doors as the last party members escaped, the texture of Illinois’ hand that had steadily moved to wrap around your own fingers. He was decorated with callouses and rough patches, war wounds sustained in the battlefield of caves and climbing. They told a story, one that you could have read had you enough time, but, for now, you had to be satisfied with knowing his present – told to you, not by his skin, but by you also experiencing it at his side.

That involved the darting through doors, ducking under pipes, skirting around the staff members who hadn’t gotten the memo. You didn’t even have the chance to ask where Illinois was bringing you, too focused on not slamming straight into a wall. The steady sounds of boots marching behind you, of which you counted six or seven, propelled you forward, like striking a match against a line of gas. You barely felt conscious throughout the run; the rattle of Illinois’ pickup truck went over your head, and the jingle of a bar’s bell hardly registered until you were seated in one of the old bar seats where you came to, a drink in your hand and Illinois staring right at you. Well, not just staring right at you, but also spilling every bad pick-up line in his book. 

“I was wondering if you had an extra heart, because mine was just stolen.”

You had half a mind to put your martini down and walk out the door.

“I’m really glad I bought life insurance, because when I saw you, my heart stopped.”

Did he have life insurance?

“You must be a bank loan, because you’ve got my int—” 

“Why do you even want that thing, anyway?” you interrupted, vaguely gesturing to the crown peeking out of his satchel with your non-drink hand. 

“So, now you’re interested?” he chuckled, but only stopped long enough to order a whiskey before he commented, “The crown of Dos Partom, an old relic from the Mesopotamian era. No idea how it ended up in a bidding war, but, really, it belongs in a museum—” he shot a glance to the side, acting as though he hadn’t been watching you for the past ten minutes, “—that, and the company isn’t bad.”

So, he was the cocky type? You could’ve guessed that from the million stories about his personality, but it was a wonder to see it in action. Sure, you had a habit of using your charisma to get into places you shouldn’t have been, but this? What was he hoping to achieve? You’d already saved his ass from Whimson’s lackeys, and yet there he was, perched on the bar stool next to you, continuing his verbal assault of shoddy lines. Your eyes rolling and your annoyance growing, you twisted in your seat and removed a cigarette from your belt’s pocket. Normally, on mission days, you had five or six, a large step down from when you had days off, and yet this day was taking its toll on your stash. 

“You shouldn’t smoke, y’know.”

And so, too, was Illinois taking his toll on your patience. 

“It’s not good for you.” Regardless, you continued your strut to the backgarden of the bar. Lucky for you, despite the lateness, the weather had taken pity on you. A gentle breeze carved through the foliage and guided the smoke of your cigarette into the moonlit sky. The growl of cars and humming of lights brought you to lean against the white brick wall and take in the scenery. When you got a moment to yourself, appreciating where you were was the best you could do – because, who knows, you could be dead tomorrow. 

You took another drag, and then placed it on your bottom lip as you retrieved your phone. It was just a burner that you took on missions, but it had all the essentials, including the number of your assigned agency representative. The handlers, you called them. You didn’t know the name of yours, but you trusted them with everything about yourself; where you were, who you were with, what you were doing down to the shift of a foot. Right now, you were entrusting them with the simple name of your mission and the promise of it having been finished at your normal quality.

“Berlin, 1996,” you muttered as you typed the letters. 

“Keeping a diary there, sweetheart?” 

Could you catch a break? Apparently not, you assumed, as the sight of Illinois wrapped around the corner. His hat was off, held in one hand, and both your drinks in the other. You met his eyes, he stared back, and then you removed your glass. 

“Thank you.”

“No problem.”

“What do you want?”

Illinois pretended to be shocked, reeling back and pressing his hat to his chest. “Me? Want something? From you?” he gasped, a smirk overthrowing his lips only when you didn’t react. “Not at all.”

“Don’t play dumb, Jones,” you warned. 

“I appreciate that you think I play dumb.”

That teasing smile, the glistening eyes, you had to look away before you did anything drastic. Whether that was punching him or kissing him, you didn’t know, but you knew that looked off into the well-trimmed hedges halted the urge. “I know you’re not just a pretty face, what do you want?”

“And I’m pretty?” Another chuckle. “You don’t need to say all that to get me interested.” 

“Just—” you took a breath in, “—tell me what you want from me, and then we can part ways. Easy.”

“And what if I don’t want it to be easy?”

Someone inside the bar shouted that it was last call, but neither of you moved to grab your final drinks. Neither of you moved, at all. You stayed still, Illinois stayed still, and the only sound between you was the buzz of moths at the dangling light just a few inches away. Illinois was… he was something else, that was for sure. Either he was going to kill himself, or you were going to kill him yourself. No matter what, you wanted to be there for it. 

Reaching out, you pulled a thumb along his jawline and took a sip of your martini out of the other hand. Illinois was too stunned to speak, leaving you the chance to remove your hand, snatch his hat and shove it onto his head in one, fast motion. He made some sort of sound, one that you didn’t catch as you waltzed back into the bar.

Illinois, standing in the porchlight, laughed to himself and followed you inside – and then, in another year, five months and two days, he’d be doing the exact same thing, except, this time, with a golden band around both of your fingers. 

[As a Brit myself, and having seen neither James Bond nor Indiana Jones, this was a treat for me! Thank you for requesting! Also, as some of you may have noticed, I have currently closed my requests because exam season is coming up, but I should be back around the end of June. Thank you for sticking with me, and, again, thank you for requesting!]

[vemberposting]

thinking about a very specific brand of degradation and praise plus switchyness

need someone to come up and pin me against the wall, tell me

i see how you look at me… everyone else does too

me quickly becoming offended and angry as they say that i’m

such a stupid slut who can’t even fucking think for themselves

using biting words back, telling them to

fuck off- quit being a dick- you’re wrong

them thinking of the perfect way to push my buttons and switching up their tactics

you’re just a fucking slut, yeah? so infatuated with me, so obsessed with my cock. you just want to get down on your knees and suck and gag and choke on it, hm?

me opening my mouth to argue but they press closer and cut me off

i know how your pretty little head works. i know that all you want is to be a good boy for me.

much to my frustration, my eyes flicker just a bit as my mind drops down towards subspace for a split second- of course, they notice

aw, do you like it when i call you that? you’ve really got nothing going on up there… such a stupid little whore for me, all you can do is obey, right? all you want to do is obey.

my face is flushed and i’m frowning in a mix of embarrassment and indignation, still determined to hang onto my pride but feeling it chip away by the second

aww, you trying so hard to be strong! trying so hard not to give into your instincts… sweetheart, don’t you know? you don’t have to be strong around me.

the idea making my shoulders drop a bit as i work through the pros and cons of trusting them

there you go. open up to me, you can be a good boy for me like your fucking mind is absolutely begging for. i’m sure your cunt is dripping right now, absolutely throbbing, because deep down you know that’s all you’re good for.

them tracing their fingertips across my jawline as i stiffen slightly, but they notice my quiet gasp and move their palm to cup my jawline, and in spite of myself, i gently lean into their touch

i know, sweet pet. you’re just a fucktoy, and everyone else knows it, but, tsk, your sense of pride. you’re so self assured. but i just know how soaked you are. in fact… i can fucking smell it.

turning red as i try to turn away, but they roughly grab my jaw and growl under their breath

oh, no. you’re not going anywhere. what you’re going to do, is tell me over and over again what a beautiful slut you are for cock, isn’t that right?

desperately shaking my head, as they chuckle at me before groping my cunt through my jeans, laughing as my knees buckle and i let out a broken moan

there it is. there’s my good fucking whore. now say it. “i’m a toy, my only use is for your pleasure and to take your cum.”

opening my mouth just slightly but quickly closing it, my brow furrowing just a bit as a last attempt to resist. my expression clears after they slap my face, leaving a stinging pain on my cheek as they growl

say it. do you need me to repeat myself, you brainless cumslut? it’s so simple, and yet… “i’m a toy, my only use is for your pleasure and to take your cum.” be a good boy for me and fucking. say. it.

tears welling up in my eyes as i mutter out the phrase for them, and no later than the last word falls from my lips do i feel another sting across my face

good boy. but i know you can say it louder. be proud of yourself, you’re being so good for me. such a pretty fucking whore. say it.

steams of tears falling down my cheeks as i sob and repeat it over and over and over again, begging for them to stop

stop? is that all you want, sweet pet? i know there’s something else you want, something you want right… here

groping my cunt again as i cry out and beg them over and over again to make me feel good until my words dissolve into incoherence

kneel.

i drop to my knees instantly as they chuckle at me and pull their cock out, tapping it on my chin as a signal to open my mouth, which i gladly do

there you go. what a good boy for me. suck.

sucking and licking and kissing their cock as i squirm, my boycunt feeling so fucking empty and deprived

aww, are you that desperate? wanna make yourself feel good? there’s a perfectly good boot right there. that’s the best you’re going to get, my sweet pet, now grind on it. now.

unintentionally stuffing their cock further down my throat and feeling more tears stream down my cheeks as i shuffle closer to position myself on their boot, finding the best way to get the most friction through my jeans as i moan and whimper.

yes baby, make those pretty sounds for me like a good boy. such a good fucktoy, taking my cock in my mouth so well. spit and pre dribbling down your chin… you look so fucking cute

talking me through their blowjob as i get myself to the edge and they hear my moans becoming more frequent and high pitched

aw, you gonna come? need to come so so soon? you have to make me come first. there you go, suck. suck harder. use your tongue on the head, that’s it. what a good slut. hold on just a bit longer, let me tug on your hair… that’s perfect, just like that, god you’re so perfect… ready, sweet boy? come with me. come with me now, grind on my fucking boot as i come down your whore mouth, you were made for this, such a pretty slut

coming down from their high before sinking down to my level and giving me a warm hug right there on the floor, shushing me and rubbing my back

you did such a good job for me, my angel. are you okay? yes, yes i loved it, of course i did, love. are you sure you’re okay? shh, shh, it’s okay to cry, i’m here with you. i’ve got you. you’re safe, we were just playing, right? right. hold onto me a bit longer, love, you’re still shaky. breathe deep, baby. there you go. good boy.

[house-of-slayterr]

Hmm okay I have an idea. You requested the same thing so I'd like to see our different HC'S whenever we're both done with it lol

Peepaw with vamp s/o 😌

This is honestly a dangerous combo for the citizens of Haddonfield.

I’m not sure who would catch who’s eye first. If Peepaw was out in his full Myers gear, the reader would surely notice him first. Vampires are trained to look for the most dangerous person around. But if Michael notices them first, it would probably be for their strange attire.

Vampires are supposed to try and blend in, but the reader doesn't care about that much. They probably wear more alternative clothing, and I imagine, especially if they wear platform boots, they are quite tall. Maybe even Michael levels of tall.

Micheal takes to following them around, he’s intrigued what someone who looks like them gets up to in a town like this. But they know he’s following. They do just enough to keep his interested, but don’t want to spoil all the fun right away.

Micheal however, doesn’t even notice he’s being followed in return. On days where he’s not stalking his new favourite toy, they take to watching him instead. Except they are surprisingly more secretive about it. Vampire can see and hear better, so they don’t have to follow as closely. They like to hide up in trees or watch from roof tops as Peepaw does his thing.

The reader definitely snacks on what’s left of Micheal’s victims sometimes. It makes it easy so they don’t have to hunt. Plus the town will be none the wiser, his victims are so brutalised it’s easy to hide a few bite marks.

But Peepaw isn’t stupid. He knows something is up, he just can’t pinpoint it yet. He’s never encountered the supernatural before. But he remembers back when he was a boy in Smiths Grove, some of the patients and staff talked about “monsters” He was never one to believe in that shit.

The reader slips up once, getting too close to Peepaw. They didn’t even noticed they’d grown to like the man, see him more a just their “food delivery service” so they got closer, wanting to see in detail how he killed. But when they snapped a branch, Micheal was quit to dispose of the victim in question and turn his attention to them.

They new they could have run, Micheal expected them too, but just tilted his head when they stood there. They both heard a sputtered cry from behind him, the victim not having completely passed over yet. “You going to finish him?” The reader would ask.

It was in that moment that Peepaw understood they were more than just his new interest. He stepped to the side, allowing them to approach the victim. He watched in confusion as they dug into the flesh of their neck.

From that moment on, the pair would begin to hunt together. Micheal sometimes allowing victims to think they could get away, just to see the fear in their eyes as they ran into his new “friend” He would find it a little weird if they explained they were older than him. He sees them as their physical age, but he’d love to hear them talk about the past. Hear about all the history they lived through.

Quickly Peepaw started to realised he was aroused by watching them kill. Of course Micheal had known about sex for a while. But not often was he able to think about having it with someone else. He had accepted that it would just be him and his hand. Nobody would ever love “the devil” as Sam Loomis used to call him. This man normally has no shame, but he couldn’t help the thoughts that he wasn’t good enough for them.

He tried to hide his feelings for a while, being annoyed that he felt something so vulnerable. He thought it made him “weak” the reader made him weak. But they quickly picked up on Micheal’s feelings. Vampires have keen senses, and as embarrassing as it is, they can smell when someone is aroused. So after a few months of waiting for Micheal to just say something to them, they grew fed up.

Peepaw was surprised when after a kill, he was slammed up against the wall. He thought maybe they’d grown bored of him, and he had no idea how to kill a vampire. But he figured if something were to finally take him out, at least it was them. But he stood there even more shocked when they just ripped off his mask and kissed him.

It’s hard to stun this man, but he would let his body just run on instinct. He’d switch the rolls, pushing them up against the other wall, wanting to be dominate instead. But they wouldn’t mind at all. Similar to how Micheal would be ok if they hurt or kill him, they were ok with letting him dominate them.

Peepaw would be confused when the reader expressed they wanted the relationship to be more than sexual after a while. Despite them saying this while frustrated and covered in a strangers blood, Micheal would swear that the gods had sent him an Angel. Someone who would kill for/with him, wasn’t afraid of him, wanted to have sex with him, and now was looking at him with love in their eyes. Micheal could have sworn he hit his head and was hallucinating.

He’d allow them to give him weird pet names. He doesn’t like speaking much, so he probably wouldn’t give them back. But he showed his love in other ways. Leaving them meals, or cooking dinner for the two of them. Peepaw had the urge to visit Sam Loomis’s grave and rub it in his face that he now had a hot significant other that loved and adored him more than anything in the world.

This man doesn’t show a lot of emotions, but he’d be the happiest he’d ever been in his life. Maybe even consider marrying his little vampire. There’s no way in hell he’d let them leave now. They belonged to him just as much as he belonged to them.

Not gonna lie, Peepaw might gain a biting kink after a while. He really loves the way their teeth look covered in fresh blood. At first, he would not let them bite him. Again, he has to be the dominate one. But one time during sex, in the heat of the moment, he bit down on them hard. A weird way to show his love for them. I don’t even think the reader would mind, thinking it’s cute that he’d want to bite them.

But once the trust has fully set in, Micheal would let the reader feed off him. He quickly found out it felt good, and would grow jealous of all the victims that were still clinging to life when you bit them. Why would you want to make them feel nice when you were his? But in a similar way, they’d let him play with knives in the bedroom. Vampires heal quickly so he could cut them over and over again and it wouldn’t matter.

If they’re the style of vampire that has things that can leave a more permanent injury and actually scare, I think they would even trust Micheal with that knowledge. Of course Peepaw wouldn’t want to actually hurt them, but he’d feel very loved that they trusted him of all people with the knowledge of how to kill or hurt them. If he used a weapon to scar them, he’d definitely be the type to kiss them. They’d both be proud of the scares in a weird way.

Now vampires live forever. And while it may seem like Peepaw is immortal, in the sense that nobody seems to be able to kill him, he is still mortal. It would probably take years of discussion and begging on the readers part, he would agree to let them turn him. I mean come on, Vampire Michael would be the most terrifying thing the world has ever seen. He’d love the idea that he’d be infinitely more strong. But the reader refuses to loose him, and that would be his main reason for allowing them to turn him. Peepaw doesn’t want to leave them either.

An: I hope this was good lol, I’m not really versed well in the headcannon style of writing yet. But I think this is how Micheal would be with a vampire significant other. I’m now curious how OG and Rob Zombie Micheal’s would be if they had vampires of their own. I feel like OG would definitely try to kill them, and be mad that they keep coming back to life 😂 and Rob’s is definitely obsessed with them. He seems the type to want a goth style significant other, and what’s more goth than being a literally vampire. Can’t wait to read your headcannons. Love you Ty ❤️

[meraki24601]

When You Wake

This one is for  @sublimepainterwitch who commented on my post No Avoiding It. They asked for a part 2, but since the post was based off of someone else’s original post, I decided to make a similar but separate post. 

In this, Hero was still injured and rescued by their very protective ex-lover, Villain. Plus, Villain still disappeared for a period of time. Sublimepainterwitch I hope you enjoy and this scratches that part 2 itch! -----------*-***-*-----------

Waking up in the morning has never been one of Hero’s favorite things. They’re a night owl who fights crime in the dark. It seems like it would come with the territory. The sun shining in their eyes through their ugly, thin curtains. The sound of their neighbors arguing. Dogs, birds, car horns, and noise. 

Yet, waking up without all that, Hero decides is much worse. They haven’t even opened their eyes, but it’s obvious Hero is not waking up to a fresh new day inside their crappy apartment. All they can hear is their own breathing, their lumpy bed isn’t lumpy at all, and they can smell… cologne. Wherever they are, Hero isn’t alone. 

Hero’s eyes snap open and they lunge up into a sitting position. “Who’s there?” They call into the pitch-black room. Their chest heaves. Hero can’t seem to catch a full breath. It’s wrong. So wrong. They don’t understand what’s happening… and then the pain sets in, and a few things start to make sense. 

“That would be the broken ribs.” A voice pierces the darkness, “Lay back down. Those wounds didn’t heal overnight, and you can’t escape with your leg broken like that. Go back to sleep, Darling.” 

Hero turns their head toward the dark corner where the voice had come from. Too fast, actually. A wave of nausea and dizziness knocks them back onto their shaky elbows. Their fists are barely closed as they clench them against the additional wave of pain. A faint outline of a person is visible sitting in a chair disturbingly close to Hero. “Who are you? What have you done to me?”

“It’s alright, Hero. It’s just me.” The voice sighs as they click on a lamp. The light blinds Hero for a moment. When their eyes finally adjust, the person has moved from their chair and is hovering over Hero.

“Villain!” Hero’s chest clenches. They remember now. They had been punished for failing again. Hero still wasn’t sure what they had done wrong, but they didn’t question it anymore. They had been on their way home to care for their wounds when they were jumped by 3 of Supervillain’s minions. They had run from their attackers as long as they could, but their leg was weak from their punishment. Maybe even already broken. It gave out, and Hero was surrounded. 

Hero’s life had flashed before their eyes in those last moments. The final thing they saw was Villain, their ex-lover, stepping into the alleyway. It had hurt, to see them again. The world thought Villain was dead. They had gone out of their way to make sure of that. Villain betrayed Hero. When put to the test, Villain had chosen Supervillain. The last person Hero had left in the world had left them without so much as a glance behind them. Supervillain must have sent them back to finish Hero off. 

Tears had run down Hero’s cheeks as they struggled against Villain’s reaching hands. They heard laughter as a voice asked “Who did this to you?” They felt the weight of gravity as their body was moved, then it all faded to black. 

“You need to breathe, Darling. You’re safe. They can’t hurt you anymore.” Villain stands from their chair in the corner. Their fingers are gentle as they run through Hero’s hair. “Please, lay down. You need to rest.” 

Hero shakes their head and Villain’s hands shift. One hand grips the back of their neck, pulling them back toward the bed, and the other presses on their chest. Hero’s arms give out instantly. Biting the inside of their cheek is the only thing that keeps them from crying out as Villain shifts their broken leg. 

Villain pulls the blanket up and tucks Hero in. “There you go. Now, be good and answer my question from before. Okay, My Love?”

“Don’t. Don’t do that.”

“Do what, Darling?”

“Call me that.”

“Call you what, My Love?”

A shiver runs down Hero’s back. “That. Don’t you ever call me that again. Just, just kill me. That’s why Supervillain sent you, isn’t it? That’s why Supervillain’s minions attacked me.”

“You are partially right. Supervillain did send their minions to attack you. However, I am not here to kill you, and Supervillain didn’t send me.” Villain settles back into their chair next to the bed.

“Liar!” Hero lunges back upright. Their chest heaves as they fight through the pain. “You’re a liar. You’ve been working for Supervillain since the day you left me. Don’t pretend like you’re trying to help me. Don’t pretend like you still love me!”

“Enough.”

“Kill me, Villain. If you ever loved me, you’ll just kill me. I can’t do this anymore. I hate you. I don’t want to hurt anymore. Please, don’t let them hurt me. Let it end. It won’t hurt as bad if it's you.”

“Enough.” Villain’s voice is loud in Hero’s ear. Their body is hanging over the edge of the bed, Villain’s arms the only thing keeping them from falling. When did they try to stand? “Lay down. If you try to stand again I will tie you to the bed.”

Hero doesn’t try to fight as Villain lowers them slowly back onto the bed. They start to speak, but Villain cover’s their mouth with one large hand. “Darling, what do you remember from when I found you?” Villain’s grip on them loosens and Hero shakes their head, drawing another sigh from Villain.

“Supervillain is dead. I killed them.” Villain shifts to sit on the side of the bed. “They did try to kill you. The order they gave as they died was to kill you. If I hadn’t left with them, you would have died that day. I couldn’t protect you back then. I had to fake my own death to protect you. I thought you would be safe until I gathered enough power to protect you. I’m sorry I was wrong.

“If I had known they had broken you this badly, I would have done whatever it took to come back sooner. I’m going to make it up to you. I know you couldn’t tell me before when I asked, so tell me now. Who hurt you? Tell me, Darling, who is next to die?”

“You’re a liar.” Hero tries to sit up, but Villain stops them. They pounce on top of Hero, grabbing their hands and pinning them above Hero’s head. Villain’s knee lands between Hero’s legs as they straddle Hero while staying wary of their broken leg. Villain’s eyes close as they rest their forehead against Hero’s. 

“What did I tell you about standing, My Love? Please, I can’t bear to see you get hurt again.” Villain’s grip on Hero’s hands loosens and their fingers intertwine so they’re holding hands. “You don’t have to believe me now. I’ll prove how much I love you. But first, I need to know who did this to you.”

Hero is exhausted. They shift slightly under Villain’s intense declaration. “Supervillain’s minions. There were 3 of them but I…” 

“Who’s the liar now? You know what I mean, Darling. Supervillain’s minions hurt you and they paid for it with their lives, but they aren’t the reason you’re like this. They didn’t break your leg. Now, tell me. Who. Did. This.” Villain’s eyes open slowly and Hero feels as if they’re staring straight into their soul. 

Hero says nothing. If they talk, Villain will go after them. The enemy is too strong. Villain won’t survive by themselves.

Villain exhales heavily, their breath tickling Hero’s nose, “Alright. I’ll show you it’s okay to trust me again. In the meantime… Minion!” 

A quiet person dressed in Villain’s colors enters the room as Villain rises from their position over Hero. “What did you find? Do you have a name?”

Minion bows their head and offers Villain a file. “Hero works for Superhero. They are known in the business for their extreme “punishments” when they feel an underling has failed. Spy retrieved the record of Hero’s punishments you can find in that folder.”

“Well done. That is all.” Villain doesn’t look up as Minion leaves. Their attention is riveted on the contents of the folder. If that truly is the record from Superhero’s office, Hero knows what Villain is seeing. Superhero always made sure everything was well documented for future reference.

“Villain, please don’t. You can’t beat Superhero. Not on your own. They’re too strong!” Villain ignores Hero’s pleas and opens the door, inviting another person in. They both approach Hero as they continue to beg. “Please. Don’t leave me again. I can’t lose you a second time. Don’t do this.” 

With gentle hands, Villain takes Hero’s hand and extends their arm out to the new person. Hero barely has the strength to flinch as they stick a needle in their arm. Villain rubs their thumb over Hero’s bandaged wrist as new tears form in Hero’s eyes. “Don’t fret, My Love. I’m not alone anymore. Supervillain’s army is loyal to me now. I’m going to make you safe. No one will ever dare hurt you again, and I’ll prove I’m not lying when I tell you I still love you. Just rest, My Darling. Rest, and I’ll be back when you wake.”

[cistranny]

do you want to talk about your ocs because i want to hear about your ocs

hey I wrote this all out and then tumblr glitched and deleted it all. haha. anyway this is just a WIP! :3

Backstory, set five years before Yasmin (5YB even):

Two middle aged women called Eden and Eve. Eve is one of the few people Eden enjoys being around, the only person Eden loves. Eden is not the only person Eve loves and will never be. Eve is married and has a child by the name Alice who Eve is the godmother of.

Alice is eight years old when their parents die. Eden being forced to take them in, even though she doesn't particularly want to. Eden is.. losing it mentally because her only person is gone, forever, but feels as though she owes Eve which is why Eden takes Alice in.

Eden is wealthy and extremely comfortable in that, but, does not take good care of Alice for the next two years. In fact, barely acknowledges them and is rarely home or around them. She does notice, though, that Alice never seems surprised or actively does things that they shouldn't know how to do. When pressed, over and over again, Alice admits to knowing the future. Eden obviously takes this as a joke and lashes out at Alice for it but they back it up easily. Eden spirals.

If Alice can see the future, if Alice has always been able to.. then they knew that their parents were going to die. They knew Eve was going to die. And, they did nothing at all. Eden spirals hard.

Alice lost their mother- no, Eden lost her Eve and Alice didn't even try to stop this? Eden becomes convinced Alice is evil, that ability had.. rotted their brain and made them hateful and horrible. She justifies what she does next as much as possible.

There is a ward in a town that no one really knows, a ward with five girls specifically in it. The oldest named Lorna, she's a 19 year old in a relationship with an intern at the ward who breaks her heart and destabilises her even further. She swears she can see through the walls, that things speak to her that are just not there. She degrades and dies, no one believing her, not even the four younger girls she had befriended in the ward.

Her death gets the town known for a brief period of time, the ward more known and eventually almost closed. But, a woman named Dr. Cromwell buys the hospital out, funding it by her own money. She makes it a closed patient ward and keeps only the four girls plus.. some kid in it. Asking the girls parents to pay extraordinary fees if they want their children to receive "proper" care.

The girls (named oldest to youngest) Solmaz, Khadija, Iris and Marie discover that since the night Lorna died, they have all.. gained something. Something strange. Each one of them has a weak but there power. Something that specifically affects the present. To make someone see something. To hear. To taste or smell. To feel something that is not there. Each one of them has power over a sense but cannot infringe on the others power.

So for example, Marie could make someone feel something crawl up their calf but couldn't make them see, hear or anything else it. But, Khadija could make someone see something that isn't there, but only Solmaz could make someone hear something that isn't there. Iris has the perceived weakest ability out of the four, being only able to make someone able to smell or taste something that isn't there (She is the most important for the end).

Enter in on the scene a woman named Abeba Yi. A 28 year old woman who really wants to be an investigative journalist who travels around the country and discovers scoops, and who really did buy a while caravan to go travelling around the country in but.. kind of just became a food blogger and recipe writer because the journalism was not making any money. The food blogging also doesn't really, but she does odd jobs at the towns and places she visits so she's living!

She visits a small town in a pitspot and ends up driving upon this old looking hospital, where a very flustered woman appears from and tells Abeba she Cannot be here and to get off this property quickly. Abeba flees but is.. severely curious. For the day, she helps out at this antique store until the same flustered woman shows up.

Her name is Sydney and she works as a receptionist at that ward, Sydney tells Abeba over drinks in a run down bar. They tell Abeba a lot over as the night progresses, about the apparently very young kid they see going down and out of the basement in a stretcher, how she has had to sign an NDA over so many incidents and things, how off and odd all the employees are, how strange the matron is and- Abeba hears a scoop.

A night of research later and Abeba fakes a meet-cute with the woman who runs the ward, Dr. Cromwell or as she quickly finds out, Eden. She forces her way into her life, asking her about food and recipes until the doctor just invites her over for dinner.

Abeba stays in that town longer then she expected, accidentally falling into a weird relationship with Cromwell. Until, she finds files. Files upon files ducked and locked inside hidden cabinets. The doctor has been becoming tired of Abeba, she can tell so steals some files and..

Fuck, Abeba can't just leave that kid that Sydney mentioned in there, can she? She tries to call Sydney but.. she hasn't seen her recently and after a few calls, Abeba gives up calling. She just wants to leave because she's in far too deep and these files are fucking insane, there's no way all this shit is real and she feels kind of insane just reading them.

Abeba fakes a visit to Eden and after a very, very little amount of convincing it struggle, technically and legally kidnaps a child named Alice.

OKAY. FUCK. that's like majority of the backstory, I mean it's not even half of the story at all at all. I didn't even get into the main character but I've been writing for like an hour now so I'm done fuck this stupid baka life. GO THROUGH THE #GARDEN OF DOGS TAG IF U WANNA SEE SILLY POSTS ABT THE CHARACTERS!!! my art account posts r tagged w it too so check out my art account if u wanna see art of Abeba or her future gf Yasmin :3