#and screw those damn gear heads too

[nimhmistsong]

First purple tear, now the blood-red night. I'm gonna need to draw fanart for my fucking Binah firing squad. Because nothing else I have played has been so fun and so successful at the same time.

ALL HAIL!!

[insomniactic-daydream]

Really?- Bakugo x Reader

Bakugo x Support Course Shoto's Twin Sister Reader (Part 5)

<- (Previous Part 4)

Summary: Y/n and Bakugo being supportive love sick idiots. (I'm too lazy to write a summary rn)

"What is this shit? Why is the fabric weird?"

"Those are your gloves. They'll help you adjust to the seasonal changes. Warmer in the winter and even more sweat in these warmer temperatures.

It's made with metal thread produced by yours truly. That way, they dont wear out easily." you say while tidying up some screws.

Bakugo's questioning has been going on for the last few minutes. If you didn't know better, you'd think he's trying to take your place in the support course. You swear he's taking up all the oxygen in the unventilated shed; nothing but an open window.

"You spent time sewing this shit together after creating the thread?"

"I am the best, aren't I?" You say, looking up from the gauntlets to meet his eyes with a smirk. He quickly turns his head in another direction, avoiding being caught flustered.

"Tch, as if. I just didn't think you losers had to put together so much shit just for one hero's gear." He grumbles, taking on a new appreciation to support course people and workers.

"Well, now you know not to be cheap when it comes to your agency's gear in the future, right Number One?" You say before grabbing the gloves and one of his arms.

You slip his hands into the fingerless gloves; shockingly compliant. Meanwhile, Bakugo is wondering how the hell your hands are so soft given your job. One of the pros of having a lava quirk.

"Tch damn right, nerd. Now the hell are we doing now?" He says, eyeing Y/n's calm and zone in look on her face.

"Do you ever stop asking questions? We're assembling your shit together already. If anything too tight or loose, tell me, and I'll adjust it. " You say as he examines the gauntlets on his arms, opening and closing his fists.

"One of the rings for my ultimate blast is a bit snug. It's making harder to pull on to activate it." He says while Y/n grabs the defective gauntlet pulling out the ring.

Y/n also grabs his hand again while heating up the ring with her quirk and goes to the finger in question; which so happens to be his ring finger.

"Oi, what the hell do yo -" Bakugo says in fear for his finger to be charred off or 3rd degree burns at least. He pauses as he realizes the ring is also being cooled down with your ice quirk.

"What too soon for you to say yes?" you say through a chuckle, jokingly makes it seem she's proposing to him.

That's when Bakugo quirk goes off, earning a little harmless explosion to Y/n's face. Even Bakugo was not sure he meant to do that, but he quickly composed himself.

"You're an idiot." He says, rolling his eyes and his face away from you. You let out a giggle.

"What? If this this career doesn't work out for me I had to make sure I'm rich somehow." She says sarcastically.

"Your father is literally loaded, dumbass." He says to you; now chuckling at your stupid joke. Totally forgetting that you almost burned his finger off. (He's being overdramatic)

You were an idiot he thought. But something warm erupted in his chest, thinking about your unwavering confidence in him to be number one in the future.

You always refer to his goal as something you believe he can actually achieve. You don't criticize his personality or tell him it's impossible with an ego like his. You actually think he's going to be someone big someday.

And if he were honest with himself, he wouldn't mind if you're there when he does make his dream a reality.

"Hm, I guess you're right." You say laughing, and you help him reattach parts of the gauntlets.

"Besides, you're not half bad at this shit. I don't think you'll fail even if you tried." He grumbles softly, almost embarrassed he's complimenting you.

"Guess I proved myself to you, huh then number one?" You look up to make eye contact with him.

He stares back intensely. Like a trance, he can't shake off.

"I guess you did, idiot." He says softly. He admit he had his reservations about you, but you ended up proving him wrong in the such short duration of time you've known each other.

The room falls silent for a while. Nobody mentioned the moment that just happened between them. Too stubborn to say the obvious.

"So why the support course? And how come not your brother too?" Bakugo says, clearing his throat into a new conversation. Y/n, let's out a pondering hum.

"Hm, well, I did get my quirk a little later than him. I was always around my dad, but he only focused on training Shoto for the time being."

"I'd usually stay around the agency when I was younger while my mother took care of my siblings at home. That's how I ended being looked after by the agency's support crew." You say with a shrug.

The information made Bakugo uneasy. How come your mother didn't take care of you? But your speaking cut off his thoughts.

"From then, I already learned the basics. And so, even when my quirk came and my dad pushed me towards becoming a hero, I knew that I wanted to make support gear. And I wanted to be the best at it." You say with a smile as you adjust the newly fitted ring back into the now newly completed gauntlets.

"Well, if my gauntlets serve any proof, I'd say your smartass is already halfway there." Bakugo says wholeheartedly to you. Hoping his words gave you an ounce of confidence you've given him.

"Really?"

"Really"

"Guess I should charge you extra then, huh? I mean, I'm going to be in pretty high demand then."

"You know what. I take it back."

As if he wouldn't pay top dollar for you if that were the case.

(Part 6) ->

I literally cringed writing this. Idk why I can't write lovey stuff 😭

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[thedvilsinthedetails]

Rosekiller microfic suggestion 😊

Barty and Evan have always been very affectionate and touchy, lots of pet names etc and one day they find out a lot of hogwarts thinks they’re dating and they’re both like “are we dating? Damn I guess we are” and make out lmaooo

HELP IM REPLYING SO LATE TO ALL THESE PROMPTS BUT I FINALLY FOUND THE TJME AND MOTIVATION TO WRITE

sorry the ending is a bit rushed but yeah✨

•••

They were sat outside in the courtyard. Barty could feel the warm sun shining down on his face and Evan’s fingers softly running though his hair as he let a gentle sense of tranquility wash over him. He had his head resting in Evan’s lap, eyes screwed shut as Evan fiddled with his hair while they waited for Regulus and the girls to get back from Hogsmeade. 

He heard some students walk by and blinked his eyes opened confusedly as he heard their whispers and giggles. He frowned, lifting his head as he caught the end of what one of them was saying.

“Such couple goals.”

But then Evan had his hand pressed gently to Barty’s cheek, looking down at him as he murmured.

“Everything ok?”

“Yeah.” Barty nodded, deciding to ignore what he’d heard, those students could have been talking about anyone.

“Yeah everything’s good.”

Evan just grinned in response and Barty went back to resting his head on Evan’s thigh.

•••

Evan soared through the air, decked out in his quidditch gear as he and the Slytherin team flew a celebratory victory lap around the pitch, shooting a wink and a smirk at Barty who was already heading excitedly for the stairs to get down to the ground. Once he got there he sprinted for where Evan was standing, chatting excitedly to his teammates. He launched himself at Evan who caught him and then promptly tripped over, landing them both on the ground in a fit of laughter. Barty rolled over to face him with a grin.

“Well done Rosie!” 

Evan grinned back, face flushed with adrenaline.

“Thanks Bee.” 

He got up, brushing himself off and helping Barty to his feet too, wrapping an arm around his waist.

“You two are so cute.” 

Edgar Bones spoke, smiling as he passed them.

Evan turned to Barty and sent him a wink.

“Hear that? We’re practically the darlings of the year group” 

“Well of course we are, just look at us.”

Barty responded. Evan laughed slightly and Barty huffed questioningly.

“Sorry just- you have grass in your hair.”

Evan reached up a hand and picked out the grass that had gotten into Barty’s hair, then finally he ran a hand through, messing it up for good measure.

•••

“Students, as many of you may know, today marks the  muggle holiday of Valentines Day. Despite the excitement we would like you all to continue on like normal and save the celebrations for this weekends trip to Hogsmeade. Please be civilised and behave norma-“ 

That was when Barty got on the table. He held a bouquet of red roses in the air with a grin and announced loudly.

“Evan Rosier, my rose, light of my life, would you please be my Valentine?” 

He kneeled down, holding the bouquet out to Evan with a grin.

“Why of course.”

Evan took the bouquet and pressed a kiss to Barty’s cheek. As Barty stood up, he took a bow and the students actually began to clap. That was sort of surprising because usually his antics gained groans of annoyance from everyone around him. 

•••

The group was sat in a circle with the new addition of James Potter fiddling nervously with his wand next to Regulus. 

“So…it’s really nice to finally meet you guys. Reggie has told me a lot about you.” James cleared his throat awkwardly before he spoke.

Barty rolled his eyes before turning to Regulus.

“Reggie what happened to friendship solidarity? I’m single so you should be too, it’s not fair.”

“Single?” James asked confusedly.

“But I thought you and Evan were together.”

Barty turned to Evan and raised his eyebrows in surprise.

“Me and Evan? Please as if I could ever pull Rosie, why would you think that?” 

“Well you two are awfully cuddly.”

“Are you saying friends can’t cuddle one another James? Does that mean there’s something going on between you and Sirius? Don’t know how Reggie feels being cheated on with his own brother.”

James’ eyes widened as he struggled to find words.

“No- no I would never, I don’t- sorry I just thought because you- you know, you regularly call Evan ‘your rose’ and that a pretty couple-y nickname so.”

“Well yeah but-“

“Plus you made a massive show of asking him out on Valentine’s Day. Everyone’s convinced you guys started dating this year, that’s why they clapped. Everyone thought it was really romantic.” 

Pandora added with a little self satisfied nod at the end of her statement.

“Huh I guess we kind of are together.” 

Barty turned back to Evan and found that he had a blush dusting his face in a dark shade of red. 

“Rosie.” Barty turned to Evan, lifting a hand to cup his face. 

“Well we can’t disappoint the people, would you do the honours of being with me?” 

Evan glanced down at him through half lidded eyes before pressing a small chaste kiss to his lips, letting a small sound escape his throat as Barty deepened it. 

When they broke apart Barty couldn’t hold back a dopey grin as Evan spoke.

“Well I guess I could.” 

“Brilliant.” Barty jumped up quickly, pulling Evan up with him.

“Where are we going?” Evan asked.

“Well I owe you a date don’t I?” 

“What? Right now?” Evan suppressed a smile and quirked up an eyebrow.

“No time like the present. Oh and before I forget-“ Barty turned back quickly to the group.

“James Potter? Thank you very very much.”

“You’re uh- you’re very very welcome.”

James appeared to be sweating profusely now in confusion, face slightly fear stricken. Regulus would probably murder Barty later but that didn’t matter right now. Nothing mattered right now except the warm weight of the hand holding his and the boy attached to it.

“I still don’t like you though.”

And with that, Barty excitedly tugged Evan out of the common room.

[feral-lore-creature]

oh boy oh boy oh boy am i here to tell you how much that was not rhetorical.

i guess the best place to start wpuld be simply with HR Giger and his rise to fame with his biomechanical artwork. Biomech, as it sounds, is the combination of organics and mechanics, most often represented with human/animal anatomy where joints are replaces with gears and pistons, but infused with muscles and tendons. Gigers art was particularly inspired by Salvador Dali, HP Lovecraft, and Alfred Kubin

(some examples of their work in order of who was listed)

(The Temptation of St. Anthony ,The Shaggoth,Homage to Rimbaud)

Giger was enlisted to the design set by Ridley after he viewed Giger "Necronimicon IV", for which the Xenomorph was designed after.

"Giger's design for the Alien evoked many contradictory sexual images. As critic Ximena Gallardo notes, the creature's combination of sexually evocative physical and behavioral characteristics creates 'a nightmare vision of sex and death. It subdues and opens the male body to make it pregnant, and then explodes it in birth. In its adult form, the alien strikes its victims with a rigid phallic tongue that breaks through skin and bone. More than a phallus, however, the retractable tongue has its own set of snapping, metallic teeth that connects it to the castrating vagina dentata.'"

The Alien is meant to incite sexual horror in men specifically, between ita phallic shaped head/inner tongue and vaginal secondatry mouth, whule still maintining no sexual dimorphism (except feom the queen) so you cant tell if its a male or female.

"however, he could not conceive of an interesting way for it to get onto the ship. Inspired after waking from a dream, Shusett said, "I have an idea: the monster screws one of them", planting its egg in his body, and then bursting out of his chest. Both realized the idea had never been done before, and it subsequently became the core of the film. "This is a movie about alien interspecies rape", O'Bannon said in the documentary Alien Evolution. "That's scary because it hits all of our buttons." O'Bannon felt that the symbolism of "homosexual oral rape" was an effective means of discomforting male viewers."

after this point all of my thoughts devolve into a garble of pointing and hand flapping so enjoy what i was able to provide and i hope we become moots bc i wanna talk abt alien w ppl so so bad

BY THE VOID, THANK YOU! This is so well done. I fucking LOVE IT. I'd LOVE being moots! 😭 I need somebody to info dump on, too!

Putting my own thoughts below the cut so nothing gets too long.

I always thought the idea of making (usually cis) men uncomfortable via graphic, fictional representations of rape was SUCH a good change of pace. It's refreshing, not just in terms of "flipping the script", but the way it's presented is often beautiful, and grotesque.

I remember watched the "horror" (read: fetish) movie "Don't Breathe" with my FATHER not knowing the plot twist (because that's the point of watching the damn movie...) It made me so fucking uncomfortable. It's just a fetish film, honestly. It handles extreme, very real events with no grace or creative liberty. It's horrible.

ANYWAY! Back to Aliens, I think that's also why I fucking LOVE the hive system the Xenomorphs work in. I know some people don't enjoy these terrifying, eldritch organisms being "reduced" to something so earthly as a hive system, but let's be honest, it's effective way to reproduce/gain numbers, and it's still just as scary.

That's the reason I adore the QUEEN herself. Her design is powerful, and elaborate. She sure as hell plays and looks the roll of queen. She's the epicenter of the species who commands all those under her as she "births" more of the monstrosities to destroy worlds in her children's wake. She's the only feminine being binding the hive together into an organized destructive force, and she doesn't even need a male to fertilize the eggs. (<- also a detail I really like.) She's quite literally an evil girl boss LMAO I love her.

These are the main reasons (and I'm sure there's more,) as to why I love HR Giger's original art work, and how it was shown in the first two movies, then later beautifully presented again in Prometheus 2012. (<- somebody please be obsessed with the Engineers with me, I love them, and need to bang one asap LMAO)

It's an amazing example of art that's meant to "comfort the disturbed, and disturb the comfortable."

[blessyourhondahurley]

Night Watching

Insomniac motel guest eavesdrops on Winchester bickering

Suptober prompt: Sleepless Nights Flufftober prompt: POV Outsider Fictober prompt: "Not on my watch!" Inktober prompt: Booger

(Read on AO3)

“Auuggggh,” she growls, throwing the blankets back and twisting to turn the bedside light on.

She knows she can't expect to get a fantastic night of sleep in a strange bed in a cheap motel, but this is ridiculous. She's been lying here, staring at the clock, waiting to drift off, for almost two hours.

The room is too hot, except every few minutes it starts to get too cold. But then the heater will kick in, making a gear-grinding racket as it spits out great gouts of lukewarm air that carries with it the smell of dust and someone's feet. The single blanket provided with the room is scratchy and thin. When the heater's off it's inadequate, and when the heater comes on it's stifling.

“Screw this,” she announces to nobody, and stands up. She pulls on a hoodie and a pair of sweatpants and takes her scratchy thin blanket outside with her. There's a cheap white plastic lawn chair in front of each unit of the motel. She plants herself in hers.

It's a clear night and the sky is full of stars. Resplendent is the word that pops into her mind as she traces the path of the Milky Way with her eyes. The air has a bite to it, an autumn chill, but with the blanket wrapped around her legs she's pretty cozy. Ridiculously, she starts to feel like she actually might fall asleep out here.

Her almost-doze is interrupted by the deep rumble of an engine as a dark behemoth of a muscle car pulls into the parking lot. Three men get out, slamming doors behind them. One of them walks briskly into the room across the way from hers and disappears from view. The other two are in the thick of an argument, and they clearly have no qualms about continuing it in the middle of the lot. She feels no qualms in her turn about watching the show.

“Because I could have been fucking dead for all you knew, Dean. That's why!” one of them yells. Here in the dark she can't make out their faces or much of anything else about their appearance, but this guy's the taller of the two, by several inches. His long limbs flail as he vents his frustration.

“You were never in any danger, Sammy! Not on my watch!” Dean replies forcefully. He got his hands busy in the trunk of the car, and Sammy stalks around the car to get back in his face.

“You weren't watching me, man! That's my point! You were only watching Cas!” He points towards the  room. Cas must be the guy who had the good sense to skedaddle at his first opportunity and leave the other two out here to air their grievances to the night sky.

Dean seems to take great umbrage to this. “Don't you dare imply that I'd let a case get boogered up because I can't keep it in my pants!” he hollers, voice edging towards shrill with offense.

“You said it, not me,” Sammy growls.

They stand glaring at each other in tense silence for a handful of heartbeats. She find herself leaning forward in suspense. The chair creaks under her, and the sound reverberates across the lot. Belatedly realizing they're in public, the men break their standoff. Their posture changes from confrontational to something softer, more familial.

“Look, Dean,” Sammy says, his voice conciliatory. “I'm not accusing you of anything. I just... There was a minute there, tonight, when it felt like you didn't have my back, and that was... It was really fuckin' scary, man.”

“I get that, but Sammy, you gotta know by now I'm always gonna be there when you need me. Since I was four, man. Trust.”

“Yeah. I know. Ditto.”

“I know. Bitch.”

“Jerk.”

Those last two words come out sounding like terms of endearment. They hug – a rough, full-bodied thing with back slapping and brotherly jostling (at this point she's pretty damn sure these two are brothers). Then Sammy shoves him towards the room.

“You better head to bed. Your husband's gonna be asleep by the time you get in there.”

“Oh, I know how to wake him up if I want him,” Dean says lasciviously.

Sam chuckles and holds up a hand. “No details. I took a room across the lot for a reason. 'Night.”

“'Night, Sammy.”

Dean slams the trunk shut and they part ways – Dean to the room where Cas waits, Sammy to the room next to hers. He nods at her as he unlocks his door and disappears inside.

She settles into her lawn chair and looks up at the stars.

[anoctoberpepper]

Fifa and Twisted Teas (Grant & Nick)

Grant’s in the middle of cooking a 9pm dinner when his phone screams to life. His, usually set-to-silent unless there’s an emergency, phone. He scrambles for it to see a call coming in hot from Nick. 

“What’s up?” Grant rushes to turn off the stove, and starts heading for his gear neatly hung under a sheet by the door. He’s panicked until he hears Nick’s raspy singing.

“Can I crash at your house tonight. You’re house tonight, you’re house toniiggghhhhtttt. tonighhhhtttt,” Nick’s been on an X-Ambassador kick, apparently. 

“Nicki, this is an emergency line,” Grant reminds. 

“You didn’t answer my text.” 

Grant pulls his phone away from his face and sees that exactly thirty seconds ago Nick texted those exact same song lyrics to him.

“It’s an emergency meeting of the queer committee minus Terry and the aces,” Nick says, as a ridiculous explanation. Grant doesn’t have it in him to explain again how wrong Nick is. Lark’s screwed his way across the city, and Terry still won’t call himself bisexual despite the high-school thing. Grant certainly doesn’t have the energy to go against the unstoppable force that Nick is when he wants to hang out. Grant looks at his pot of cooking perogies, the salad he made up. 

“Are you hungry?” Grant asks. He made enough for dinner and lunch the next day, he could easily feed Nick.

“Ah, hell yeah.” Nick pauses then asks, “is there peppermint in it?” “No” “Even more awesome. I’ll be up there in a sec.” 

Before Grant can even hang up his phone there’s a crack in the living room and the scent of sulfur and Christmas spices. 

“I have arrived!” Nick walks into Grant’s tiny kitchen triumphantly holding Twisted teas and an ancient copy of Left for Dead, two things Grant likes, but he’s less sure that Nick does. Apparently the guy is going with his default programing of doing whatever he thinks the other person wants to do. Years spent copying his dad and other boys until he was seamlessly one of them, then more years trying to remember which dad to follow fully wrecked his sense of himself. The guy doesn’t know who he is let alone what he likes. It kills Grant to see it. 

“What brings you to this side of hell?” Grant asks. He pulls an iron skillet from a cabinet and sets it on the stove to warm. Chops some onions. Of all the things his dad is good at, cooking is one of them, and he didn’t let Grant leave the house without knowing several solid recipes. 

Grant sees the flicker in Nick’s eyes, the momentary calculation of him trying to remember which timeline to live in, which person he wants to inhabit.

“Dads are fighting,” Nick says. 

“Damn,” Grant says, not for the first time. He puts the onions in possibly too much oil, makes a face then adds more oil. He’s not that good of a cook. 

Nick sets the teas on the counter, followed by the game. 

“Figured you wanted to do video game night,” Nick says. 

“Or we could go out,” Grant counters, harmlessly poking at other options. Things Nick might finally glom onto as his own. “See some music. I heard Force to Reckon With is playing downtown.” Nick had showed some passing interest in the band a few months ago. Nick goes into buffering mode at the suggestion. Grant stirs the onions.

“How about food and you get to pick the video game?” Grant negotiates himself down. 

“Games are good,” Nick says. It’s something.

“Go look through my X box,” Grant says, “I finally got holographic guitar hero. Thought you might like to play it sometime.” “Nah,” Nick says. “Why goof around when I can play the real thing.” “Because it’s fun,” Grant says, silently happy that Nick at least has that opinion in his pocket. Grant dabbled with guitar at the tail end of high school thinking it would subtly get someone’s attention. He still prefers guitar hero though. 

Nick wanders into the next room, and Grant hears his tv hum to life. He finishes with the onions, fries the pierogies, still doesn’t hear anything from the living room. He plates everything, considers adding an insulting spring of peppermint on top just to mess with Nick. Doesn’t.

When he gets to the living room, Nick is still scrolling through the games. There aren’t as many as Grant would like, he’s working on a senior-in-college shoestring budget, but there’s a good selection.

“Have you at least narrowed it down?” Grant asks. 

Nick flicks back and forth between Fifa and Halo. That’s something at least, Grant thinks. 

“How about fifa,” he compromises again, making choices he knows Nick can’t. 

Nick smiles wide, “love it.” Grant hands him a plate, nods back toward the ratty couch. “Fifa and Twisted Teas it is.”

[the-firebird69]

Donald Trump news: For years, I couldn’t say what he did on The Apprentice. Now I can. (slate.com)

It's saying that it's a deception that he was conning people and it's not the point is you're all criminals you all do this stuff but he does a lot of it. And he wouldn't give anything back he's not really fighting that hard things are getting all screwed up because of him and that's what he is he's a numb skull. We're going to war with this guy and we're going to take him down and we're going to take his places and his spots in his cities does everyone else is sitting around even Brian after attacking him they're just sitting there taking hits and screw him and it's too slow it's a smoldering **** and we're going to go through this guy like crap through a goose he's very small and nobody's going to do it we have stuff we can put there false flag and just mulch your **** **** this is all taken way too long we have people that say if you're going to get out of the way.

-- He's a liar in this show he can catch him in about five lives of show he's a nasty stupid person he's not even a human being he's so gosh darn dumb. On being on our son and his people are getting slaughtered he's a cow or something he's so damn stupid. You have to use force on him to get him in the line or to have him shut up or have him go missing by shooting him in the head every once in awhile 2 three times a week. That's how dumb this **** is and he needs to leave. Right now he's gearing up to attack these pseudo empire in the Western Hemisphere and the Pseudo Empire is coming in and killing his **** because that's all you can do to stop him he's like a completely out of control **** there's a huge enemy below he doesn't want to go near is also to projects he started and doesn't do and we don't need him around he's a huge huge **** and our son has started more businesses and is more successful than this guy could dream of being. This guy just went around and took businesses from people and screwed them up because he's a ****. He's not a business person he's not a good satanist he's not a fighter not a warrior or leader. Is a sleazeball a belly crawler. Using him because people would just leave him here and we're gonna take over.

-- In the Midwest right now we're working on the 3rd and 4th band of Tennessee and we're pushing them out and these idiots are just sitting there we take over factories they try for them a few times then they flee. We're gonna keep doing it and doing it and like we said like today they'll be out of those bands and by the end of the week they'll be out fully of the Tennessee parallel and halfway up Kansas I mean they're just really lame. We have a lot of work to do and we're going after them hard and we're putting issuing warnings about them and so forth. But toy what a bunch of ****. To begin invasions of their stupid cities and weed them out and thin them down so they leave. I'm starting another program in some military program

Thor Freya

more news later this am

Olympus

[aliassinvestigations]

KILLGRAVE

The same dream, it was always that dream. Her bedroom was a sensual ambience pulling her into a moment of serenity. Jessica Jones laid next to Faith and lit oak and vanilla incense. This was perfect; a movie and her girlfriend. For the first time since Killgrave, there was a sense of normality. Her cases gave her money and Faith gave her those fulfilling moments of being a real hero.

She turned to look at Faith, the candles lit and filling the room with a warm scent.

"Where did you go my love?" Faith asked, resting her head on Jessica's chest.

Jessica tilted her head to look down into Faith's curious stare. "Nowhere, what are-- oh." Jessica Jones jumped at a loud bang that snapped through her ears, buzzing filled her mind as she looked up to see herself and that Bastard standing at the foot of the bed.

Looking back down, Faith's listless face stared up at her and blood seeping into their blue sheets.

Jessica Jones snapped awake to the screaming of her alarm. Her head buzzed and stomach doing flips from the two bottles of Jack she'd had the night before. Same damn memory, how long until that asshole would stop haunting her? At this rate "till death do you part" wasn't a marriage vow, but a promise that if you stay with someone too long, they'll be burned in your subconscious till you were buried.

She laid on her back and stared at the spinning ceiling. She tried to remember her, the good memories were fading too quickly and being replaced by his poison. Faith jumped out of bed and ran to the bathroom to purge the remnants of liquor. If only she could purge those memories of Killgrave too. It was never that easy, no matter how much she wished it was.

Jessica sat on the floor and rest her head against the sink. She reached under the sink and pulled out a dusty candle from the back of the cupboard. Oak and Vanilla mixed with dust wafted a nostalgic smell. It became her smell, the last memento that she once existed in this space before that night.

She stood and lit the candle, letting pull her into a memory-- any memory that wasn't with him.

Everything hurt. Her muscles burned and her stomach tumbled and lurched from last night. Her head was split in two, throbbing and pulsing.

A knocking on her front door snapped Jessica’s eyes open. She stood up, gagging from the abrupt movement. She stumbled to her bed and searched for her pants. Another knock, she cursed and looked for her shirt. Screw it. Jessica threw open the door in nothing but a sports bra and blood stained jeans. 

“What?” She said.

“Jessica Jones?”

“You are?” Said Jessica. Her eyes straining from the bright lights in the hallway.

“I’m detective Ben Hargreeves, I was hoping I could speak to you about a recent homicide I’m investigating.” He stepped inside and let Jessica get comfortable at her desk. 

“So, you need a consult or...” Jessica reached under her desk and pulled out a few forms. 

“No nothing like that. I’m here because Patricia Walker is deceased.” He sat down across from her and pulled out a folder with her autopsy reports and other details. He guessed from research she’d want to see all the evidence up front, otherwise shut down and deny it. “We suspect she’d been--”

Her heart seized and breath ripped from her lungs. “Murdered.” Jessica cut him off. Why else come with paperwork? She couldn’t process it, instead she forced herself to treat this like any other case. There was time for tears later, she had a killer to find. 

Jessica reached into the bottom drawer of her desk and pulled out a bottle of scotch on it’s final swigs. “What do you already know about this guy?” First thought, a stalker. Trish was a popular radio and podcast host. She was an advice columnist and all around was in the lime light. Her charisma would put her in the crosshairs of sick freak.

Telling her to not get involved was futile. Ben saw the gears spinning behind her cold gaze. She was already running through a victim pool, “Do you know anyone who’d want to hurt her?” 

Jessica stood up and strode over to the couch to grab her jacket off the armrest. “Lets go find out. You drive.” She knew this song and dance, she wasn’t going to play it. If he wanted to know, then he could take her to Trish’s himself.

Ben drove them to the crime scene, he was going to hear about this later. Jessica was too close to the case. They’d been able to rule her out as a suspect, but, bringing a victim’s family to the crime scene wasn’t a good idea. Jessica would’ve gone anyway, he reasoned, this way he could ensure she’d preserve the crime scene.

The apartment was pristine as they walked in. Markers set up in an otherwise unassuming modern home. When Jessica circled into the kitchen, she froze at the red streaking the sink and countertops. Her stomach clenched and bile stung her throat. They moved her for autopsy, all Jessica could see was the remnants of what transpired. She tore her eyes from the blood spatter on the countertops and walked the house.

“What are you looking for?” Ben said as he followed her down the hall.

Jessica looked at the fortress Trish built in her gym. It doubled as her panic room by the looks of how it was reenforced. Smart move. Jessica tried to get inside Trish’s mind, where would she put her valuables? She felt around the walls, ignoring Ben’s curious stare. A tiny compartment popped out behind the wrack of barbells, Jessica pulled out a small USB drive. Jessica pocketed it and looked around the room for anything else. There wasn’t anything she immediately noticed, but, knowing Trish this room was likely one of many that housed her secrets. Jessica brushed past Ben and continued searching the house for more clues. She found a pocketbook containing only a list of first names and couple of other oddities. Jessica feared Trish was going off the deep end again, trying to drive herself to some 

[lifeasatargetedindividual]

Magnets, magnets, magnets.

After doing much research on how to possibly block some of the frequencies the Program uses to torture T.I.'s via DEW's, I purchased more than a few myself online.

Several people claimed neodymium magents help block or at least ease the technological harassment. One foreign sounding lady reported in her youtube video she sticks a small bag of the things up her vagina 🤢 She described the feeling of being messed with down there through the Program's silent weapons. I know exactly what she's talking about as sometimes out of nowhere I feel the very same thing. More research revealed the Program can force orgasms and sexual stimulation on their victims at any time. A complete violation crossing all bounds. Still, the idea of shoving anything up my nether regions that should not be there was too much for me. It worked for her apparently though. Male T.I.'s in general reported mirrors and magnets all around or over the body provides relief and drives perps crazy because they can no longer lock onto you as easily. So I decided to give it a whirl.

Chile, please 🙄 I must be the exception to just about every remedy conceived in terms of gangstalking. Yesterday, my family took turns laughing and making jokes, seeing me with little magnets all over my sleeping cap I wear on my head. Adding to the slight embarrassment on my end, no matter how much I spaced the suckers out, if the sleep cap moved the wrong way on my head, the magnets are so strong, they'd click together, making a loud, obvious noise in the process no one could ignore. All you'd hear was "click, click!" And the damn cap would be all screwed up in practically a ball on my head. I'd actually expected my Harassers to roar with laughter in my ears over seeing it all, but they instead kept with the derogatory insults while telling me how stupid and crazy I am. Well, at least they didn't laugh. J did all the laughing for them on the inside. "You look crazy as hell! This shit is pure comedy gold, I'm sorry, baby!" He's gotten a real kick out of my efforts for protection and relief.

The bigger magnets I bought haven't been much better. Two of them got stuck to my shirt and bra (don't ask). Had to literally rip both articles of clothing apart to free them then had to ask my dad to separate the magnets. Again, my harassers didn't laugh, surprisingly. I was practically on the verge of tears by then as nothing seems to ever work for me like it does others!

Nevertheless, I remain wearing them. Sometimes it DOES seems like it makes a difference, but the pulsing around my head where they sit gets very uncomfortable at times. Every now and then I will also get a metallic taste in my mouth. I'm not sure if the Program is during those times trying to gear up with their devices and the magnets are messing with their frequencies to some extent. But either way it goes, most times I'm still Sickened out with or without them. So to all other T.I.'s, unless you are deeply hated as much as I am with more advanced forms of weaponry being used against you, magnets do not entirely work, if at all.

[bisexualvampires]

The Coffee Kissing Crisis

For @caskarass Happy Birthday! 🥳

4.6k

Read below or on ao3

It was seconds after Dean finally closed his eyes that his alarm began screeching in his ear. At least it felt like seconds anyway.

He rolled over, attempting to smother the damn thing with a pillow. The beeping only grew louder, more insistent. If Dean hadn’t been one step too far out of a dreamless sleep, the phone would've been smashed against the wall by now.

Begrudgingly opening one eyelid, Dean glared at the phone. Weighed up whether it was worth the satisfaction of breaking it anyway.

It wasn’t.

Dean huffed. His face screwed up against the light creeping into his bedroom. Beyond the door, the sounds of shuffling feet and the hum of the coffee machine whirred in the kitchen.

Coffee. Good. Yeah.

With a groan, Dean peeled back the blankets. Once he kicked his legs out into the cool bunker air, he knew there was no going back. He had to get up. Couldn’t remember why, but he did.

Dean’s knees cracked when he got to his feet. His back was stiff and aching, and it took a minute of forcefully grinding the gears in his head to remember why he hurt so bad.

Werewolf hunt. Tumbling backwards down a hill. Landing his ass in a pile of thorns and enough pollen to have him sneeze through two showers and a whole pack of allergy pills.

Dean sniffed. All clear.

He rubbed his eyes with the back of his palms. Slipped his feet into his slippers. Where was his robe?

Right, he’s already wearing it.

Dean leaned against the wall as he opened his bedroom door. His eyes weren’t fully open but that was fine. He wasn’t fully awake neither.

The word “shower” came to mind but that thought died the moment the whiff of coffee travelled down the hallway and up his mercifully unblocked nose. Following the scent, Dean let his feet trail him toward the kitchen.

In the split-seconds between each step, Dean sunk into the warm haziness of sleep still pulling at his tired mind. Nothing felt real just yet.

Maybe it wasn’t.

“You look like hell, dude,” Sam’s smug voice reached him through the haze.

Dean blinked real slow at the blurry person shaped-thing in front of him.

“Did you even sleep last night?”

“’m sleepin’,” Dean mumbled in reply.

He felt his shoulder bump against the thing that sounded like Sam as he walked by. Dean turned to glare at his brother, but that would involve opening his eyes all the way so screw that.

He took another couple steps forward and bumped into something warm and solid.

“Good morning, Dean,” said the tan-coloured blur with the sexy voice. “I made you coffee.”

A fond smile pulled on Dean’s lips. He took the proffered mug in hand, inhaling the bitter scent like a lifeline.

The angel smelled good too. He always smelled good.

Dean leaned close to the warmth of Cas’ body. His half-closed lids fell shut. “Thanks, Cas,” he murmured, and pressed a quick kiss to his buddy’s lips.

Cas’ lips are so soft.

Dean patted Cas on the shoulder and shuffled off with his coffee. The first sip burned through the lingering pleasant touch to Dean’s lips. The second tasted bitter and hot, and the third had him sighing in relief.

A quarter way through the coffee, Dean finally felt the first drop of reality settle in his mind. He leaned back in his chair, no longer needing to brace his elbows on the table for support.

Another sip, and the sounds in the bunker finally caught up to him. The distant noise of the shower running. The hum of the florescent lighting. Soft drips from the coffee machine.

The next sip had Dean rolling out his shoulders, thinking about that close call on the hunt yesterday. How stupid he’d been to let the werewolf get the drop on him. How, if it weren’t for that damn hill he’d tumbled down, he would’a been flat on his back with his guts decorating the pavement. Totally at the mercy of that big bastard.

The memory of the werewolf’s breath so close to his face sent a shiver down Dean’s spine. He could still see those yellowed teeth. The gums stained black with old blood and its maw still dripping red from its latest victim.

Eddie was kind of a dick, but he didn’t deserve that shit. His boyfriend hadn’t neither.

Dean pressed the hot mug to his cheek and inhaled deeply. Winced as the sound of the guy’s screams echoed in his ears.

Eddie’s whole leg had been ripped to shreds by the wolf’s teeth. His shirt clinging to his belly in bloody ribbons.

Dean gulped down another sip of coffee.

It was a damn miracle Cas had been on the road with them.

Eddie'd lost a lot of blood. After they’d put the werewolf down – silver bullet through the heart; a clean shot after a messy fight – the dude was passed out. Pale as a damn ghost by the time Cas got to healing him.

Sammy’d done a good job cleaning up the evidence. Dean figured he’d lied pretty convincingly; explaining away Eddie’s torn and bloodied clothes despite his lack of injuries once he came to. Might have patted himself on the back for it if it weren’t for the thorns and dirt littering his skin. Two showers later, and he still felt a coat of filth all over his body.

Dean shifted about in his seat, weary of any lasting thorns digging into his ass.

He took a long drag of his coffee, wondering if he could stamp down his ego for a minute and let Cas heal him up, too. Where the hell was Cas any-

Dean spat his coffee across the table, choking hard. He stood fast, knocking his chair to the floor. A shock of heat burst through his body and his heart pounded dangerously in his chest. Dean continued choking as he raced across the kitchen. Ducked his head around the open doors to peer down the empty hallway.

A bead of sweat trickled down his forehead. Blood rushed to his ears, leaving him unsteady on his feet.

Dean backed into the table, his hand leaning on the cold patch of coffee he’s spat across the table. He lifted his hand in disgust, flicking his wrist to get rid of the drops.

The roaring in his ears worsened.

Dean realised he was still flicking out his wrist and slowed to a stop.

What the fuck?

What the fuck what the fuck what the fuck?

The memory played out before his eyes: Cas handing him the coffee. The surprised smile on Cas’ face as he looked down at their held hands.

Oh my god, Dean had held Cas’ hand over the coffee cup. Cas had been the one to pull away.

Dean froze, staring at the spot in the kitchen where it’d all went down. He watched himself lean in, his lips slanting against the angel’s.

He felt the phantom touch of those lips on his own now.

How soft they’d been.

The quiet hitch in Cas’ breath the moment before.

Dean replayed the memory over and over until it seemed fake.

It had to be fake. There’s no way he just kissed his best friend and then patted him on the shoulder like “hey, good game, man!”

There was no fucking way.

Dean ran his fingers through his hair.

His skin felt too hot. Too tight. He had to be dreaming. There was no god damn way.

Dean lifted the abandoned coffee mug, staring into it accusingly. As if it was the coffee’s fault. As if there was any rational explanation for what the fuck he’d just done.

Where the hell was Cas?

A second wave of panic had Dean bracing himself against the table again.

Had Sam seen it happen?

Where was Cas?

What had he done?

Dean paced the kitchen, hands gripping at the short strands of his hair. He caught sight of his reflection on the glass door of the oven. His face was bright red. His damn robe was inside out. He looked down to see part of the robe tucked into the ass of his PJ pants.

Great. Fucking perfect.

He’d just made a move on the guy he was pretty certain he’d been in love with for the past – how many years? – and he looked like this? Really?

Dean banged his forehead against a cabinet.

This can’t be happening. Ain’t no way.

He checked his watch.

Not even 6.15 a.m. and he’d already ruined everything.

                                                                                               #

Castiel stood in a public park, watching the morning dew trickle from the freshly bloomed flowers.

A woman jogged along the open path, skirting an elderly couple walking their dog.

All the world was still waking up, and they had no idea it was the best day of the angel’s life.

A familiar buzzing sounded from the angel’s right. Cas crouched low, bracing a hand on one knee as he regarded the bees.

“Hello, gentle friends,” Cas smiled warmly. He touched two fingers to his bottom lip as if to recall the press of Dean’s lips against his own. “I’ve got some good news for you today.”

                                                                                               #

Sam didn’t know.

That had to count for something, right?

Dean had paced outside the bunker library for twenty minutes. Swinging his arms by his sides, like if he did it enough, it would give him the momentum to stop being a little bitch and propel his ass into the room.

Okay, so maybe Sam caught him and asked what the hell he was doing. So what?

Point was, Sam didn’t seem to know a thing. Which was good. Great, even.

But where the hell was Cas?

Dean had spent the better part of an hour in the shower, switching between zoning out, thinking about all the ways he’d imagined kissing Cas for the first time and the holy terror he felt for how it finally happened.

He’d kissed Cas. Cas, the dorky little guy who didn’t know who John Bonham was. Who wore his tie backwards and listened to pop music in secret. The guy who interrogated a damn cat and once watched porn right there in a room full of dudes.

Dean really didn’t want to think about that right now.

By eleven, Dean had come up with four different speeches on how to worm his way out of this situation. Each was stupider than the last and not a single one close to the truth.

By mid-day, he’d run out of bullets for target practise. Anything to drown out the thoughts racing in his head.

When lunch came around and Sammy droned on and on about some case in Louisiana, Dean had flinched twice at the mention of Cas’ name.

There was still no sign of the guy.

Sam wasn’t surprised in the least when Dean interrupted him to ask where Cas had gone. His brother only shrugged, bitched at Dean for not paying attention to whatever crap he was saying, and kept going.

Dean drowned him out. He couldn’t help it.

He’d gone through all seven stages of grief twice over in the past seven hours. The shock still hit him smack in the face every time Dean let himself think straight for more than a second. The bargaining turned out to be a waste of time. There was no changing what happened.

Dean had kissed his best friend, and now he had to deal with it.

He hadn’t noticed when Sam had left the table. Dean had been pushing his bacon around on his plate long after it went cold, and his beer turned warm. The table was littered with torn off pieces of the label on his beer bottle.

What the hell could he say to Cas?

What if Cas never came back?

What if he hated Dean? Felt violated by what he’d done?

What if he wanted to talk to Dean about it? To ask him why the fuck he’d done something so stupid. They were friends, damn it! Why did Dean have to go ruin it?

What if he’d ruined everything?

What if…

Dean dumped his bacon in the trash. Poured his beer down the sink, and watched the fizz turn to foam turn to nothing but a brown stain that disappeared down the drain.

He had to get out of here.

Cas shouldn’t be the one to leave. This was Dean’s mess. He had to fix it. And the only way to do that was to put as much distance between him and his best friend as Baby could manage.

Dean ignored the voice in the back of his mind calling him a coward for running away. Fuck that. What was he supposed to do? Tell the truth? Confess his undying love to a fucking angel of the lord?

“Oh hey, Cas, remember this morning when I was half-asleep and kissed you like it was a normal thing to do? Sorry about that, by the way. Anyway, I’m in love with you, and I’ve wanted to kiss you stupid for as long as I’ve known you, and I guess the wires crossed in my head and I wasn’t really awake, you see, so yeah. Let’s forget this ever happened because we both know that’s not what you want – which is totally fine by the way – you’re my best friend and it was a total accident.”

Hell no.

Dean had his bag packed and his keys in hand in under five minutes.

He met Sam in the hallway and let the bullshit “booty call” excuse roll off his tongue without looking his brother in the eye. Sam crossed his arms and did that annoying judgey hair flick thing he does before going full lawyer bitch on Dean’s ass. Dean painted on a smug smile and said, “some of us still get laid, Sammy,” and let the dude stew on it.

He supressed the cold realisation that he’d lied about his last couple of hook ups, too. And even those had been few and far between these past couple years.

Maybe that was it – maybe what he needed was to get laid. Didn’t take a genius to realise he was about as touch starved as a man could get.

The first purr of Baby’s engine sent a wave of calm through Dean’s body. Duffle bag in the back seat and Zeppelin on the radio, he was ready to hit the highway. He hadn’t told Sam when he’d be back. He had no idea where he was going. As his foot hit the gas pedal and Baby roared out of the garage, all that mattered was that he was getting out.

                                                                                               #

“I appreciate your advice,” Cas said to the bumble bee pollinating a dandelion, “although I think it’s time I tell the truth.”

The bees had listened to the angel’s story all morning. They’d found the lack of build-up to the moment strange, but despite his own confusion about the timing of the kiss, Cas didn’t mind. He wasn’t always adept to picking up on social cues, never mind those of the romantic sort.

Maybe there was something he’d missed. Dean hadn’t acted any differently around him lately, as far as Cas could recall. He’d recited their recent conversations and interactions to his buzzing friends, and they, too, had been stumped.

He’d made Dean coffee before, of course, and it hadn’t led to a kiss. Dean had thanked him plenty of times over the years.

What had changed?

Cas caught himself smiling again.

Dean had looked beautiful this morning. His freckles muted by flushed cheeks, and his eyes hazy beneath those long lashes.

Castiel had wondered many times what it would be like to be kissed by Dean Winchester. He never imagined it would happen on an unassuming Thursday morning before the sun had fully risen.

He’d pictured soft moments where he’d finally told Dean the truth of him, and Dean responded in kind. Charged kisses in the heat of battle, and devouring kisses in the back of the Impala with Dean pressed into the back seat beneath him. He’d imagined forehead kisses, cheek kisses, kissing under the stars and under imminent threat of death. Slow kisses and hungry kisses, and kisses just because.

But with every waking dream he’d build upon these hopes, the truth had already been spoken.

Perhaps the why and when and how didn’t matter. Maybe the time was right, and that’s all there was to it.

Hope was a buzzing thing in the angel’s chest, and what a friend hope made to a heart filled with love.

Dean had kissed him. And Cas had spent long enough gossiping with his tiny friends about it.

“When I kiss him,” Castiel said to the bees, “I hope he feels the love I feel for him.”

He plucked a single flower from the garden. Lest he make an enemy of loyal friends, Cas regrew the flower from the earth with the touch of his grace, gifting the bees several others for their help.

                                                                                               #

Dean’s belly rumbled over the sound of the engine by five p.m.

He pulled into the nearest diner and parked beneath its flashing red neon sign. He doubled checked the locks on the Impala and did the same with his appearance in the side mirrors.

Not too shabby for a guy who just fucked up his life.

In the diner, he slid into a small corner booth. He winked at the waitress who handed him a menu, more out of obligation than flirting. She was pretty; long blonde hair and hazel eyes hidden beneath long lashes. Exactly Dean’s type.

Too bad he wasn’t interested.

When she returned to take his order, Dean smiled politely and kept the chit-chat to a minimum. The last thing he needed right now was to land his ass in more hot water.

He chowed down on his cheeseburger before the waitress had even come back with the condiments. She’d given him a huge portion of fries – bigger than anyone else seemed to be getting, if all those rednecks glaring at him meant anything – and twirled her hair around her finger when she asked if there was anything else he fancied.

Dean said he was good. Probably didn’t help that he spoke through a mouthful of food, but whatever. Sooner he was back on the road, the better.

His phone buzzed loudly on the table and Dean almost choked on his fries. Coughing and ignoring the stares he’d earned around the cramped diner, he checked the number.

Sam: You heard from Cas?

The food in Dean’s stomach turned to lead. Frankly it was embarrassing how fast his heart was beating at the mention of Cas’ name.

God, this was so stupid.

His phone buzzed again.

Sam: He’s looking for you.

Sam: How’s the ‘date’ going?

Dean felt the back of his neck burn as he typed out his reply.

Dean: Great. What did you tell Cas?

The three dots indicating Sam was typing kept stopping and restarting. Dean was starting to fear the worst, and almost hit ‘call’ when Sam’s reply finally came through.

Sam: Told him you were being weird and drove off somewhere.

Dean: I told you I have a date.

Sam: Sure.

Irritation at his brother’s disbelief aside, Dean felt some of that weight slip from his shoulders.

Sam hadn’t told Cas about the phony date. That was good, right? At least Cas wasn’t thinking Dean had put the moves on him only to run off with some chick.

Different versions of his brother and Cas’ conversation played out in rapid speed in Dean’s head, and he hated every one of ‘em. Worst of all, he realised as the waitress came back with a sullen face and his check, Cas and Sam were talking.

Would Cas tell Sam what he’d done?

Dean pulled the cash from his wallet and left a hefty tip behind on the table. He didn’t wait for the waitress to return. He needed air, and he needed to put a hell of a lot more miles between him and this dumbass situation he’d put himself in.

Two minutes later, he was speeding out of the road-side diner, and pulling back onto the highway. He cranked the radio up and the window down; the cold air welcome on his flushed skin. Just a couple more hours driving, and he’d pull into some motel. Maybe.

He still had no idea where he was headed, but after an hour driving straight, he pulled off the highway into some smooth dirt road. He lowered the volume on Zepp II and made to check the map on his phone for where the hell this road would take him, when suddenly he was slamming on the breaks, his phone lost beneath the bench seat.

“Hello, Dean.”

Dean swerved onto the grassy shoulder, grateful there were no other cars about. He killed the engine and dropped his head to the steering wheel, not sure if his heart was going to burst through his chest or drop out of his ass.

“Damn it, Cas,” he whispered weakly, not lifting his head from the wheel.

He felt the leather of the bench seat dip as the angel scooted closer. A hand rested on Dean’s shoulder a moment later, and Dean didn’t need to look to see the tilted head and furrowed brow of his best friend.

“Are you okay?”

Fuck no.

“’m fine,” Dean mumbled gruffly.

“I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Dean choked out a sullen laugh. “Right.”

The car fell silent for a moment; only the distant sound of cars passing on the highway beyond filled the space between them.

“I’m sorry,” Dean said into the steering wheel. His voice was so small, he wasn’t sure Cas could hear him.

“You kissed me,” Cas replied. Short and simple and matter-of-fact.

Shame roiled in Dean’s guts, but he had to face up to it. He had to. This was Cas, for fuck sake. If anyone deserved a little honesty, it was him.

“Yeah,” Dean said, lifting his head from the wheel but still not looking at the man at his side. “Look, I’m sorry, man. I-“

“Why are you sorry? I’m the one who should apologise.”

Something in Cas’ tone had Dean’s head snapping around to face him. The angel was staring at him with those big wide eyes. Dean fought hard not to look at Cas’ lips, or the small smile crooking at the corner.

“Why the hell should you be sorry?” Dean rasped, turning his body fully to face the angel.

Cas’ gaze dropped to his lap. “I didn’t mean to bail on you,” he said, and Dean blinked in confusion at the warm smile growing on the angel’s lips. “I needed time… I was very happy, Dean.”

All the air punched from Dean’s lungs. Certain the ringing in his ears was playing tricks on him, he said, “you were what?”

“Happy,” Cas said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Dean would have rolled his eyes at the tone if his heart wasn’t doing backflips.

“Happy,” Dean repeated, the word tasting foreign on his tongue. “You were… happy?”

Cas frowned. “Was I not supposed to feel that way?”

The dude looked so genuinely concerned that something in Dean finally settled into place. His heart was still beating the crap out of his ribs, and he was pretty sure one wrong move and he’d meet his cheeseburger all over again, but slowly his thoughts started piecing themselves together.

They stared at each other in that intense way they always did. Where the world seemed to narrow down to just the two of them; time slowing down until it ceased to exist at all.

“Cas?” Dean started, wetting his lips nervously before continuing. “Did you… I mean, did you want me to? Kiss you, I mean.”

The smile that bloomed on his best friend’s face knocked the wind out of Dean all over again.

“I did,” Cas said, serious in that way only he could be. “I do.”

Dean blinked. Blinked again.

Thoughts scrambled over one another like numbers on a slot machine but not a single one formed a complete sentence.

“Dean?”

Cas’ hand cupped Dean’s cheek, warm and rough and so very, very real. Dean leaned into the touch, swallowing hard before looking the angel in the eye again.

“You do?” was all he managed to say. His voice came out gruff and bashful. If his cheeks burned any hotter, he was going to have to crack another window. No way was he taking off his jacket right now. Not with Cas looking at him like that. Not with the air so charged between them he could almost taste the words they weren’t saying.

Cas nodded slowly in response, entirely unashamed.

“…So, you and me,” Dean waved a finger between the two of them, “we’re okay?”

Cas’ smile dimmed to an impatient frown. “Of course.”

Dean blew out a shaking breath. He rubbed his eyes with his palms, seeing stars burst behind his eyelids. All the tension drained from his body at those two simple words from his best friend.

He hadn’t fucked up. Cas wasn’t going anywhere. Not everything was –

Dean’s heart slammed on the breaks as Cas’ words took on a whole new meaning.

Cas wanted Dean to kiss him.

He wanted..?

“Dean, I’d very much like to kiss you now.”

Dean’s attention snapped to the angel, eyes wide and lips parted in surprise.

“You… wanna… huh,” Dean cleared his throat. “No, I mean, yeah. I guess that’s only… yeah,” there wasn’t a single credible thought in Dean’s mind that his mouth could latch onto right now. But that didn’t seem to matter.

Cas closed the distance between them, one hand on Dean’s shoulder and the other resting gently at the back of Dean’s head.

The kiss was soft at first and Dean was too stunned to move. It was only when Cas made to pull back that Dean kissed him back for real, pulling the angel closer. Then Cas wasn’t holding back; kissing Dean like he meant business.

Dean wasn’t sure how he ended up on his back with the weight of Cas laying on top of him. There was so much he needed to say, so much they had to figure out. But by the way Cas was kissing him, Dean knew this had to mean more than just physical stuff to the guy, too.

Cas kissed him like he was starving for it. Like he’d waited years for this.

They broke apart, breathing heavy and not daring to move too far. Like if they pulled away, they’d somehow take it all back.

Dean couldn’t go back to how things were. Not now.

“Dean, I have to tell you something.”

The bruises on the angel’s lips had never made for a more beautiful smile.

“Me too, Cas,” Dean said, smiling so hard his face hurt. He hoped Cas heard the meaning behind his words. If not, well. They were doing just fine communicating without words for now.

A tulip fell from Cas' breast pocket, and Dean didn't think twice before tucking it safely against the angel's heart. Cas was so damn weird, Dean thought, feeling his chest swell with love.

They’d get there eventually, to those three words.

Right now, Dean felt them in the press of Cas’ lips against his own. In the beating of their hearts pressed close together, in their joined hands and tangled limbs.

Kissing Cas tasted like freedom. It felt like home. And maybe Dean was too far gone on this dorky little guy, but it felt right.

It felt real.

[chaoticorganizedmess]

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MHA Jealousy Headcanons

Ft. Dabi, Hawks, Shigaraki & Aizawa [18+]

[Part 2]

Dabi/Todoroki Touya:

This guy's had to deal with plenty of issues in his young life.

With you, he's found a confidence he's never had.

Never been able to have until you.

He's knows what you feel about him.

You don't just tell him but show him everyday.

So there's not much he doesn't trust you with.

But when it comes to other people, he'll never trust them.

So when he spots you saddled up to Hawks at the bar, smiling and giggling as you chat away, he feels his flames lick at the underside of his skin. (Whether he can feel that skin or not.)

Ready to make some rotisserie chicken out of the feathered bastard.🍗

Or when Shigaraki actually breaks away from his game to come stand at the doorway at the bottom of the stairs when Dabi hears him call out to you.

"You coming up so you can do this co-op with me or what, Child?"

You smirk and give your usual response about not being a child before you rise from your seat and actually follow his ass.

As he turns to head back up Dabi swears he sees his leader purposely eye him as a red orb peeks out from behind Father.

As if he knows he's making the older man's blood boil.

That's ok. Dabi can be a patient man when he wants to be.

When he needs to be.

And what he needs to do is wait for you to finish with Crusty Boy.

As soon as you leave his room Dabi will grab you and pull you into your shared room.

Then he'll fuck you into the mattress all night long. Just how you like it.

He'll keep your mind on him and only him as he jackhammers into your needy cunt.

Dabi will make damn sure he's got you screaming so your leader can hear through the wall.

He wants to hear you, loud and proud.

Hawks/Takami Keigo:

This guy here had always exuded confidence with that 'laid-back' aura of his.

However there are times when it's not easy for him to stay so casual.

One of those times tends to be when he gets jealous.

Those are the times he sees someone else getting too casual with his Babybird.

Especially if he doesn't have that much of an edge against that person.

Like when the Commission hires a friendly new intern to assist multiple agencies, they of course place him to start at Hawks' agency.

Why?

Because of the big set of wings on his back.

So it's obvious they decided based on the whole "birds of a feather" thing.

Tokoyami is one thing. He's practically family to Keigo now.

This guy however, just grinds his gears.

The wings aren't as big as Hawks' and white in color.

He can't control the individual feathers either. They have no power in them other to flap and make him fly.

(He secretly hopes the bird bitch flies into a giant window one day.)💀

He tries to keep him busy. At times even keeping him running errands and out of the building as much as he can.

So Hawks can't help but wonder why he always seems to find him cozying up to you whenever he comes to look for you.

Keigo is just coming out of his office when he sees you two chatting down the hall.

You're a safe distance apart, but he watches as the guy's hand rests on your shoulder as he's telling his funny story.

Keigo just sees red.

A loud whistle is heard and both of your heads snap in his direction.

He's standing in the doorway to his office. Arms crossed at his chest as he leans against the doorframe.

Your smile grows as Keigo calls your name in a soft tone, nodding his head for you to come to him.

As soon as you're close you begin to ask "What's up, Babe - Mmph!"

Keigo had gripped your chin with his thumb and pointer finger and pushed his lips to yours in a slow, sensual kiss.

You were left breathless as he pulled away, your eyes still screwed shut.

When you heard him call out to the intern your eyes shot open and you watched curiously as he approached.

(Obviously attempting to mask his nervousness as he made his way over after witnessing Hawks display his dominance.)

"Stick around out here until I'm done this meeting with my Babybird. Don't go far."

Even as he spoke with his charming smile you and the intern knew this command wasn't meant to be friendly.

He may have sounded casual but you could tell by his dark tone and lidded eyes what type of impromptu "meeting" you were about to have.

Suddenly he grabbed your hand and swiftly pulled you into his office, slamming his office door behind the two of you.

Sure enough just minutes later you were sitting on top of Keigo's desk as he pounded his fat cock into you.

One hand gripped what meat of your ass he could while you were atop his desk. The other found purchase on your shoulder for leverage. Taking over the spot where the intern had touched you.

"Louder, Babybird. I want him to hear every sweet chirp that comes outta that pretty mouth."

"I'll pound your tight cunt all night and make him listen if I have to. Just so he gets that you and this pussy are mine."

Your walls clench around him like a vice at his words. You know he would really do it...and you love it.

He may be the fastest Hero, but he can certainly last in the long run.

Shigaraki Tomura:

This guy definitely has his complexes.

So what gets him jealous is when you do something with someone else. Something that has grown to be an activity the two of you share.

Somehow he loves everything about that. Having things that just you two to enjoy together.

Like playing video games for instance.🎮

You're his Player 2.

So why are you following Spinner into his room to play games with him?!

Looks like he's gonna have to remind you who's in charge.

When you saunter back into Shigaraki's room later on you find him sitting at the edge of his bed playing his own games.

(Your heart aches a bit seeing him alone and you feel guilty you didn't invite him to play with you guys.)

He doesn't look at you, which isn't uncommon when he's playing.

He slides his position back a bit on the bed and spreads his legs ever so slightly.

"Come here, Princess.", is all he says with a nod for emphasis.

His raspy voice has taken on a darker tone.

You're immediately clenching between your legs as you approach your boyfriend.

He instructs you to take his pants off, and you comply of course.

After you unzip him he lifts his hips to help you along.

Now sitting in his boxers he'll instruct you to pull out his cock.

After plunging two fingers into your hot core he felt you were wet enough to begin taking him.

The next thing you knew he had you impaled on his lap with his cock deep within you.

You began to rock back and forth as you rode him, his grunts and groans spurring you on.

It really got you wet when you finally heard his controller drop to the floor and felt his iron grip on your hips.

Four fingers digging into each side.

Aizawa Shouta:

This is a fairly simple man right here.

You always keep him relaxed...mind, body and soul.

So you'll come to learn he'll find himself growing jealous when he sees you relax into someone else.

One extra tiring day he released his students and left his classroom with the hope of finding you eating lunch in a faculty lounge.

He was slow to come to the door but stopped immediately after opening up.

You were seated at a table and by the looks of it you were already done eating.

What got him jealous was seeing your tired form slumped in your seat, but with your head resting on Present Mic's shoulder.

He was rambling on about whatever and Aizawa watches as you smile and answer him with brief comments.

Your eyes were closed and you hadn't seen your fiancé standing in the doorway.

Mic hadn't even noticed his best friend until he suddenly approached them.

Your eyes shot open when you felt a tug at your arm.

Once you realized it was Shouta you shot to your feet and followed behind as he drug you along to wherever the hell he was dragging you to.

"Long day already?", he questioned without even looking back.

"Yeah."

When he heard you reply with a sigh he finally glanced back at you.

"Don't worry, Kitten. Daddy will make you feel better so he can brighten up your day."

You don't miss the dark look of his eyes.

It's obvious he isn't just tired anymore.

And you feel yourself growing wetter down south.💦

Luckily Aizawa doesn't keep you waiting because a few minutes later he's pulling you into his homeroom and locking the door.

You're so ready and waiting before he's even got you in position.

He fucks his jealousy away by pounding into you.

Aizawa is pretty sure it's Koda's desk he's got you bent over but he can't be sure.

His mind is nearly blank and he's positive he's fucked you so dumb you wouldn't know your own name if he asked.

[rawmeknockout]

TFA Megatron X Biologist Human Reader - Major voice kink like dear god ;; Megatron found a willing human to be a diplomat between their bots and the rest of the human world, However… The price the human has asked for in return is unconventional, a chance to study their alien biology. He soon finds out why the human enjoys pinning all their questions on him and no one else, his voice makes the reader literally weak, Megatron tries to see how far he can take this ;3

You're just supposed to make him look good. A little social media PR. It's not hard. You're pretty good at the whole social media optics thing, using socials so often yourself, and you know what people want to hear. It just takes a little selectivity with Megatron's messages, and you can make the Decepticons look like interstellar martyrs! You pat yourself on the back with every positive tweet you see in favor of the Decepticons, no matter how many buildings they smash.

Really, this is for the good of everyone. You're the first to document the biology of real aliens! How exciting is that? You practically bounce out of bed now. It helps that you sort of sympathize with the Decepticons. They aren't so bad. Rough around the edges. And maybe they terrorize people but so what! They're really just playful goobers. If you can show them that humans are evolved and a potential ally, Megatron may rethink his plans for total organic annihilation.

Perhaps you're a bit too emotionally attached to the situation, though, because you can practically feel the moment your relationship with Megatron turns from professional to... Something else.

You were covering it pretty well, you thought. How would he even be able to tell that his voice did absolutely ridiculous things to you? Once again, you totally underestimate Megatron's perceptiveness and your own lack of tact. It takes just one dreamy little sigh, while he's explaining the mechanics of the optics, to get the little gears in his head turning. You wanted to kick yourself so bad! Thankfully, or so you thought, it was easy to blow over that little screw up. He would forget the next time he fought the Autobots...

The next time you think to ask him about mech biology Megatron's voice is just a touch breathier, low as he speaks for your ears only. He really has no reason to keep his voice so soft, lean closer to your side, but there's a wide, knowing smirk on his face that has you feeling incredibly vulnerable. His voice is practically rumbling into your bones, knocking around against your spine to tickle nerves alight with pleasure. You are not supposed to be horned up at work, but you can't help the way your mouth parts with the desire to taste those words on his glossa.

You're pudding in his giant fist before you even know it, leaning hard against throne and nodding absentmindedly with whatever he's saying. You can't even think to pretend this is for your scientific work, too focused on his dreamy red optics and the way his mouth curls around every word like it's a precious treat. In fact, you hardly notice when he suggests to take this to his berthroom, gently lifting you from the floor. Which is just as well, you could practically feel your knees start to give out beneath you.

His thumb strokes clothed thighs tenderly, his optics still focused on you with that damned arrogance he always exudes. You can hardly wait to be in his habsuite to feel that smirk against your lips.

[stardustvanilla]

— softy (b.b.)

dating bucky barnes headcanon 

masterlist | bucky masterlist

Bucky would take you out for a ride on his motorcycle 

No doubt

He would call you ‘doll’ all the damn time

Kisses on the forehead while your out and about

Bucky letting you put his hair in a bun (he would love it even though Sam would tease him)

Cuddles 24/7 (he literally loves cuddles)

Tons of sex

Since Bucky is way older than you he would always make sure you were okay with whatever you guys do in bed

1940′s version of Bucky that Steve always talks about

Charming smile, head tilts, ice cream dates, anything cliche really

Hickeys, mostly on your neck, because he likes to make sure that people know you belong to him 

He will call you princess/babygirl/little girl in bed

Him asking Steve for advice all the damn time because he doesn’t want to screw anything up

“What the hell do 21st century girls like?!”

Protective Bucky (he would be very uncomfortable durning undercover missions that include you having to flirt)

After those undercover missions he would probably pull you into the first private room he saw and make sure you know who you belong too

“Your mine you know that?” “I hated the look on that guys face” “I’m never letting him touch you again” 

Bucky finds it so adorable when you make the ‘grabby hands’ when you want a hug

He picks you up and spins you around all the time (especially when you’re wearing a fancy dress and going to one of Stark’s galas)

Inside jokes non-stop

Bucky loves showering together (he enjoys the look of water drops on your skin and helping you clean up)

He always has a hand on your back when you’re out in the street or even during an event (like I said before, possessive!bucky)

Braiding his hair and “don’t tell Sam, he won’t stop talking about it for years”

Sticking magnets on his metal arm (spelling out ‘I love u’)

He loves when you wear his clothes because he finds it comforting

“RED HENLEY!”

Leather jackets, that’s all I need to say (honestly they look sooo good on him and they turn you on so much)

He makes great spaghetti and rarely makes it for the others

Lot’s of sarcasm which makes the other Avengers laugh when they see you giving him the death glare

“Hey Y/N! I bought you a colouring book!” “Shut up, James!”

Him acting like the older adult (which technically he is)

“Hey gramps!” “I don’t look it!”

Going for evening motorcycle rides with your arms around his waist

Moving his hair out of his eyes for him

Bucky’s aftercare is honestly amazing!

He loves to help you into the bath tub and make it look all pretty with bubbles

Bucky will pick you up bridal style to put you in bed (or on the couch for round two)

He is always caring and will always comfort you (he hates seeing you sad)

You would always comfort him after nightmares (he would call you if he had one during a mission)

He finds it very very sexy when you wear tactical gear (or when you’re only wearing a bra and underwear)

Onetime you bought lingerie and he almost died from the sight of you

Bucky bought you another set for your birthday

You would snuggle up on the couch while one of you read a book out loud

Lots of hot chocolate 

Your first date had a lot of candles since Bucky wanted to make a romantic dinner for the both of you

When he has trouble sleeping he will quietly go to the kitchen at night because of cold sweats and a few minutes afterward your tired figure would walk to the kitchen and find him

He always wondered how you knew he left the bed and you just shrug saying ‘my body doesn’t feel warm anymore’

Sometimes he’ll say ‘back in my day’ and you just laugh

Bucky is always carrying candy with him and you love to steal some from his pockets

A lot of your friends dislike him because they think he is scaring and intimidating but you know that he really is a sweet guy who likes sugar in his coffee

You find it hilarious when him and Steve call each other names and use old people jokes

He sometimes forgets about his super strength and breaks things

Bucky’s morning voice is sooo attractive 

Alpine follows him around everywhere and she is usually in his arms while eating breakfast

He always talks about his two favourite girls: you and the cat

Bucky will let kids touch his arm and ask questions about it. You will just sit and listen to him talk with them

He has you, Peter, and Shuri explain things to him all the damn time

He LOVES sitting on rooftops with you and just looking at the sky and reading books together

Bucky lets the kid avengers draw on his arm and he always comments about the drawings and how good they look

Bucky is obsessed with bringing you flowers

He smells like cologne mixed with leather, metal, and sandalwood 

[snackleggg]

It wasn't hard, in that moment

~~~

Angsty one shot without a happy ending. Sometimes hate can blind you to the simplest things.

~~~

This couldn't be happening.

There was no way this was happening.

But the screen didn't change as Maddie and Jack Fenton stared at the news on their TV.

" -and with all this in mind the government has not only decided to revoke the Anti-ecto act but to also give ghosts and other ectoplasmic entities that fall under that category basic civil rights. The GIW and several other unethical ghost hunting organisations are being shut down as a result and the government will soon be moving onto the inspection of smaller groups and individuals that have shown excessive malice towards these beings-" The news reporter continued on but Maddie couldn't really listen to anything else they were saying.

She didn't think it would ever get this out of hand. At first it had been small things, the impressionable and naive children of Casper high supporting that menace Phantom. Then when word of ghosts being real spread to the rest of the world other groups supporting them and their rights as people started popping up.

Now the Anti-ecto laws were not only taken down but new laws protecting the scum were put up. How did this happen?

A growl escaped Maddie "Phantom".

Of course that evil menace had to be up to this. He and his ghost pals must have mind controlled government officials. Now Fenton works would undoubtedly be inspected and shut down considering the new Ectoplasmic Protection Act.

They had to work fast Maddie decided.

If they could destroy Phantom then whatever ghostly hold he had over the government would disappear and they would all come to their senses.

Maddie stood up and started stomping her way down the stairs. She didn't even notice Jack continuing to watch the news as they interviewed some ghosts on what they thought about the situation. She didn't even notice how Jazz was standing proudly at the top of the stairs or the suspicious look Jazz threw her way when she had left.

With her new urgency it wasn't hard for her to finish a project they had in the works for a while. Her and Jack had kept it top secret so that the scum couldn't somehow find out and destroy it like they did with some of their other brilliant inventions.

The Fenton Ghost Filter was about to get a test run on the local menace.

Unlike something like the Ghost Grabber or a Ghost Shield, the Ghost Filter didn't filter ghosts from an object or just force them away. It filtered them from existence. Separating all their ectoplasm down to the molecular bond, they would become nothing but air.

It wasn't hard to find the menace. He had just finished sucking another ghost into a Fenton Thermos, Maddie still couldn't figure out where he had got his hands on one. It wasn't hard to get his attention and expertly lie about her intentions, about seeing the news and understanding how wrong she had been, about how she wanted to speak to him and make a truce.

The words were bitter on her tongue and it took everything in her to keep her expression of friendliness up and not let any venom or disgust leak into her voice.

He was obviously still cautious when he approached her. He carried himself with the air of someone ready to bolt at the slightest sign of danger. Of course Maddie would never give him that chance.

The moment he was in close enough where she knew she wouldn't miss she pulled out her newest invention. She saw the moment he realised what she was about to do, the moment he realised she had lied and the moment he realised that even with his speed he wouldn't be able to dodge in time.

Maddie saw the fear in Phantom's acid green eyes.

She smiled.

She was proud to be the cause of that fear.

She pulled the trigger.

Time seemed to slow down after Phantom collapsed. Not in the good way either.

It wasn't the same kind of slow as when she was about to shoot him, when she was savouring that moment, that victory.

At first it was caused by confusion.

Why hadn't he been torn apart instantly? Maybe she had gotten something wrong in her rush to finish it? Maybe a calculation had been off?

Then white rings appeared around Phantom's waist and travelled up his body.

She was tense. Was this a new power? A new attack? Thanks to those damn new laws it would be seen as self defense if he attacked her now.

Then when the rings of white light disappeared her son was left there on the ground. He was screaming.

Over the years Maddie had learned to ignore the screams of ghosts, they were all just ploys to gain her sympathy of the emotionless creatures. The screams of ghosts had become white noise to her, nothing more than a passing irritation.

But infront of her right now was not a ghost but her son. Her baby boy. He was screaming. He was in pain.

The mother in her wanted to run over to her boy right then and try and make him feel better, comfort him and make his pain stop.

The ghost hunter in her, the part of her that had been driving her every action up until that point, whispered in her ear how this was a trap. Phantom was trying to trick her like always, trying to gain her sympathy by making himself look like her son.

The two sides were at war, and so Maddie was frozen.

Then time seemed to snap back into gear, moving fast now like a rushing river.

Someone ran past her, towards Danny (Phantomphantomphantom). It took her a moment to realise it was Jazz. She was quickly followed by Danny's two friends, Sam and Tucker.

They were all panicking. All calling out to Danny, asking what was wrong, asking what happened and what they should do. Reassuring him that everything was going to be okay, though it sounded like they were trying to convince themselves just as much as they were trying to convince him.

The entire time Maddie could barely hear them over the screams, over her son's (Phantom's) screams.

Then it all stopped.

The screams cut off abruptly, like the plug being pulled from a TV.

Danny (Phantom that's Phantom it's Phantom) fell limp.

Sam was crying, Maddie had never seen her cry before. She was always such a strong girl.

Tucker seemed to be franctically looking for a plus, both on Danny's wrist and neck.

Jazz was-

Maddie felt like she had been slapped when she looked at Jazz.

Jazz was staring at her- no, glaring.

There was so much in that glare.

Jazz had always expressed a lot of emotion through her eyes, she could never really hide what she was feeling if you looked her in the eyes.

There was rage, and sadness and- what Maddie didn't want to admit looked like hatred. Unshed tears sat in the corners of her eyes as she glared at Maddie like she had just taken everything from her.

Then her eyes trailed back to Danny's (Phantom's) limp form.

He wasn't breathing. He was still, too still.

His eyes closed from when they had been screwed shut in pain.

Tucker was now also crying, he had stopping looking for a pulse.

Maddie felt bile rise to the back of her throat as she replayed the events in her head.

Maddie saw the fear in Phantom's acid green eyes. (She didn't need to try hard to imagine those same eyes as blue- sky blue like the day the baby in her arms opened his eyes and she swore to always protect him)

She smiled. (That's the last thing he saw, her smiling. Smiling because she was about to kill hurt him)

She was proud to be the cause of that fear. (She caused that fear. Her own baby was afraid of her, and she had been proud of that)

She pulled the trigger. (She pulled the trigger, she shot him, she hurt him, she killed him)

"Tragedy struck today as Amity park's local ghostly hero Phantom, whose identity was revealed to be Damiel Fenton, was killed by none other than Madeline Fenton. It has been a common fact in the town of Amity for many years that the adult Fentons have harboured a, at times, unreasonable hatred to ghostly entities. While not all the details are yet known, the broader strokes of the story are that after the government's public declaration of the Ectoplasmic Protection Act yesterday Madeline Fenton decided to act out to destroy Phantom who she and her husband had claimed to be a menace multiple times. Taking a, as of yet unidentified, weapon and lulling Phantom into a false sense of security around her before she shot him and subsequently killed him. When he died his identity was revealed to be that of her own son who, we are told, after an accident involving their prized invention, the ghost portal, became part ghost and took personal responsibility for making sure that Amity park was safe from those who wished to harm it. Madeline Fenton is being charged with first degree murder and there is currently much debate on whether Jasmine Fenton should be removed from Jack Fenton's custody-" The news reporter went on.

Jack couldn't focuse on the TV anymore. His sobs having grown too loud to be able to hear what was being said.

His wife was going to be sent to prison.

His daughter hated them both.

His son was dead.

His son had died nearly two years ago and they hadn't noticed. They hadn't questioned his strange behaviour, the falling grades, the breaking curfew. They hadn't seen their son when they looked at Phantom, hadn't recognised him.

Then his son died again, by their invention again.

He was a terrible father.

He was a terrible person.

[retrievablememories]

what happens at night | taeyong

title: what happens at night

characters: vampire!taeyong, reader, BP jisoo, side character ocs

genre: vampire!au, fantasy, angst

summary: There has been a vampire sighting in a nearby town. You and a few other amateur vampire hunters flock to the area for fun, but are soon in over your heads when you come face to face with a real vampire. 

word count: 2.6k

warnings: some violence, use of weapons, mentions of blood and blood drinking, cursing

a/n: i got the prompt for this fic from this writing prompt post

writing vampire fic just reveals that i am maybe a little too intrigued with finding different ways to describe blood, lmao

also, this picture...are you fuckin kidding me

"Y/N, look. You aren’t gonna believe this.”

Adrienne holds the digital ledger out in front of you, and you look at it with tired, uninterested eyes until your brain registers what you’re seeing. Your eyes light up as you recognize whose face is on the screen.

“Taeyong.”

You take the ledger from her as she offers it to you, holding it tight with both hands.

“The Vampire King?” Jisoo perks up and gets up from her seat to rush over to see the ledger, peering wildly over your shoulder. Likewise, Percy makes his way over to the rest of you at a slightly speedier gait than his usual unaffected amble.

“Can’t be,” he says, shaking his head in quiet disbelief even as he looks over your other shoulder.

“But it is.”

The ledger’s screen displays the seal of Hawthorn Academy and its vampire registry, which holds the name, age, suspected location, and family lineage of every registered vampire in the world, along with a plethora of other pertinent details. On Taeyong’s profile, there is the familiar portrait of him you’ve always seen—his hair styled perfectly and curling over his forehead, and his eyes dark, piercing, and shining vermillion.

Under the list of Status Updates, there is a new entry from yesterday—a sighting nearby in the city of Dresden. Within that entry, there is a blurry, zoomed-in photo of a man in a dark trench coat and black boots, walking away from the viewer and down a shadowy street lit up with lampposts, almost too vague to be worth deciphering to the average viewer; but that silhouette is unmistakable.

“When was the last time Taeyong was seen out in public? I can hardly believe it,” Jisoo says, her voice practically trembling with awe.

“If he’s letting himself be seen, he must have specific intentions...whatever those are,” Percy notes.

“Let’s go pay Dresden a visit,” Adrienne announces, darting off to her desk and starting to gather up her essentials—phone and silver staff among them.

“Go? Pay it a visit?” Percy echoes, his mouth rounding on the word go and his eyes widening.

“Of course! Why not? Isn’t this exciting? A sighting of the Vampire King so nearby, and so recently,” Jisoo replies, grinning with all her teeth. 

Percy narrows his eyes at her, uncertainty marring his features. “Yes, but what about dangerous?”

“Come on Percy, it’ll be fun,” you chime in. “Think of it as a field trip for baby vampire hunters. Dresden is huge, anyway, there’s like zero chance we’ll actually find him.”

“Just take it as more skills training,” Adrienne adds, grabbing her backpack and heading off to her quarters to get the rest of her things. “Except this time, we’re actually in the field instead of that same boring facility.”

Percy grumbles to himself, but he knows there’s nothing much left to argue about; when the three of you outvote him on a topic, he has no choice left.

--

By the time the four of you arrive at Dresden, it’s dusk. The perfect witching hour for the vampires to be out, with the last bleeding streaks of the sun fading out of the sky. The lack of sunlight unnerves Percy even more—you can tell by his disturbed countenance—but he says nothing. He quietly follows you out of the train once it stops.

On the outside, you all look like four regular sight-seeing young adults, taking a trip from the next city over and ready for a night on the town; but most of your weapons and gear are concealed within your clothes and the backpacks you wear.

“There’s a slight blood scent here,” you note, taking in a deep lungful of air once you notice it. Indeed, there is the lingering hint of sweetness and iron, and something more musky and earthy underneath it—like decaying organic matter. The smell every vampire hunter is trained to be able to recognize—the odor of a vampire who hasn’t taken their scent blockers.

“There is, though I’m just barely picking up on it,” Jisoo agrees, waving her hand across her nose and screwing her eyebrows up. “God, I’ll never get used to that.”

“Do you think he’s been here?” Adrienne asks, leading the pack as you all walk through the train station.

“I would think a high-ranking, old-ass vamp would know better than to leave their funk trailing everywhere,” Percy disagrees. “Maybe it’s a younger one.”

“Maybe we could get an actual kill tonight, then. Our first,” Adrienne suggests, and though her tone is nonchalant, her expression betrays her enthusiasm.

You chuckle. “Wishful thinking, but maybe that would make the seniors stop treating us like children for once.”

--

Your group ends up bouncing from the train station to a pub and then to a nearby park, where a festival is being held. There’s bright lanterns, food, dancing, singing, and little kids running around galore, which makes you think these citizens either don’t know about the recent vampire sighting in their area or don’t care.

You all spend an hour mingling around and checking out the festival’s fun-filled offerings, chatting in low tones about the recent vampire appearance and trying to put your skills to the test to scout out any other vampires that might be hiding in plain sight within this mass of people.

“Hey!” Adrienne’s shout rings across the area, and you whip your head around in shock as you watch her take off running behind some teenage boy, maybe 12 or 13 at most, who has managed to nip the digital ledger from her belt and take off with it.

“What the fuck?” Percy barks, and you all shoot each other a wild, surprised look before you and him follow behind her.

“Guys, really? Don’t leave me here!” Jisoo calls out from behind you. “You don’t need three people just to get the ledger back!”

You and Percy round the alley corner that Adrienne disappeared behind and spot her farther up ahead, still hot on the boy’s trail and cursing him profusely. He’s a lot faster than he looks. Just before you can get a good look at him, he’s turning down another road with her behind him.

“Maybe we can cut him off. I’ll go down one of the connecting streets,” Percy suggests.

“Wait, what? Shouldn’t we stay together?”

“That ledger is too important to lose to some street urchin, and the seniors will never let us leave campus again if we come back without it. You go that way, I’ll be down here.” He’s ducking into an adjacent alley before you can even respond.

“Shit…” you sigh and shake your head before running down the road he indicated.

You unstrap your silver staff from a hidden section of your pants and extend it, just to be safe.

This land is not overly familiar to you, with you only having been to Dresden a couple times before. You carefully navigate your way through the maze of interconnecting streets, listening for Percy’s and Adrienne’s footfalls, which have become distinctive to you by now, and the sounds of Adrienne’s yelling. There are few people on the streets, most of them at the festival or in their homes, which makes it easier to navigate and watch for the others as you catch glimpses of them rushing past neighboring alleys.

Percy bursts into the same alleyway Adrienne is running down, finally trapping the boy between them on either end of the narrow passageway. However, the boy remains undeterred from Percy charging toward him as he deftly jumps up onto a nearby closed dumpster and uses it to launch himself over the older man.

“Shit!” Percy makes a mad grab for the end of the boy’s shirt, but the boy is a few seconds faster and narrowly gives him the slip.

“Are you serious? You can’t catch a damn kid?!” Adrienne shouts; Percy only curses again and whips around to follow the boy.

You hear the commotion from a few roads over, and you make a beeline for the area.

Just before you make it there, Adrienne screams. The sound almost startles you into dropping your staff, and you tighten your grip around it. “Adrienne?! What’s happened?”

You reach the alleyway, your shoes skidding on the ground as you nearly overshoot it, but Adrienne is nowhere in sight. You look around confused and alarmed with your chest heaving, but there is no trace of her — when she was there only seconds ago. “Adrienne?” Repeating her name still doesn’t bring her out, and you see nothing as you walk farther into the narrow back street and search every shadow and corner. Something dark and distressing settles in your stomach, and when you catch a whiff of that blood-decay smell on the night breeze, your unease turns into an avalanche of fear.

“Percy,” you whisper, and you take off again. “Percy!”

Your heartbeat rushes in your ears, nearly blocking out all other sounds, and your legs and arms burn as you run. You are abruptly stopped in your tracks as there is another shorter sound, like someone suddenly being cut off in the middle of a scream.

You desperately want to call out for him, and the syllables of his name crawl up your throat though you struggle to contain them. The blood-decay smell still inundates your senses, and whatever vampire is skulking around this maze of streets with you is likely still present somewhere. You don’t want to call any attention to yourself with a shout, though it may already be too late. 

With a spiny chill driving itself down your back, you realize everything is suddenly silent. No insects, no night birds, no other people on the streets surrounding you.

Pushing the button on your staff ejects the silver blades from both ends, and you hold it for dear life as you stand in the middle of the dim alley, shivering despite your sweat and waiting for any hint that the monster is approaching you.

It happens so quickly that it’s almost outside of your perception.

The air around you grows significantly colder even with the existing chill from the early-winter season, and you shudder once more, your jaw clenching and molars chattering against each other. When you blink again, he is standing in front of you.

Taeyong.

Melting out of the shadows and becoming one with them all at the same time, a strange liminality similar to his existence—being alive and dead in the same time and space.

His mouth and chin are wet and red from blood, presumably that of your friends and teammates, which sends an intense ache through your stomach. The newness and excitement of the vampire sighting has drained out of you, replaced with stone cold dread. You’re not sure what any of you were thinking. Percy tried to warn you, but now he is likely dead for it.

Maybe it’s a foolish move. All your training has gone out the window in your panic and fear. You make a sloppy, sudden swipe at his front with the blade of your staff; and the next thing you know, it’s flying out of your hand and clattering feet away. Behind him, and out of reach.

It takes a second for you to realize he’s knocked it out of your hand without even touching it or you; his own hand is still raised with the movement of telekinetically shifting the object. “You came terribly unprepared. I guess I shouldn’t expect anything more from you fledglings.”

Your sweaty palm slides against the other leg of your pants where a smaller silver dagger is concealed in a tearaway pocket, but that idea is useless. In the time it’d take to get any weapon out, he could kill you.

“The Academy has really been in decline the last few decades. This is the caliber of hunters they’re putting out now?” Taeyong sucks his teeth, and he takes a step closer to you. Your entire body is on high-alert, but you feel too stiff to move a muscle, and you vaguely wonder if this is somehow his doing, too. Only in the stillness of this moment do you realize that you cannot detect any of that blood scent coming directly from him, though the putridness of it still lingers in your nose. It’s coming from somewhere else, then. This confuses you more.

When he realizes you aren’t going to speak, he stops approaching you and takes a moment to really study your face, his big and curious eyes blinking slowly. The redness of his irises and the shiny, pale quality of his skin from the moonlight shining on it make him look just as surreal as he truly is.

“You’re a pretty thing. Maybe I could make you one of mine.”

“Never,” you blurt out, and it’s the first thing you can bring yourself to say to the Vampire King.

“Oh, so you can speak.” Taeyong reaches for your chin. His fingers brush the underside of it, the coolness of his skin freezing you, before you snatch away from his touch, stumbling backwards. A flash of irritation sparks on his face. 

His hand reaches for you again, this time clasping at the back of your neck, and it is impossible to move away quickly enough. “Don’t waste any more of your time fighting. This will all be over soon. Well—this life, anyway.”

His teeth in your neck are sharper than needles, making your nerves twinge with stabbing pain; and then it’s strangely pleasant, like having painkillers injected into your veins. You can’t feel anything anymore except warmth and endorphins and his fangs inside you as the alley around you smears into a bunch of incomprehensible shapes—bricks, streetlights, strewn trash, Taeyong.

--

When you wake up, you’re in an unfamiliar place. An unfamiliar bed. You startle out of unconsciousness sweating and frightened, but with barely enough strength to push yourself up on your elbows. Looking around doesn’t provide you with many more clues; this space is murky with darkness, and your vision is foggy. You think you can make out the rectangular shape of a large curtained window, but it’s unclear.

You’re still wearing your clothes from the trip, although your backpack is now gone. Your throat has never felt drier in your life, and the pounding in your head threatens to split it clean apart.

You feel sick and feverish, like your body is trying to fight against some virus it’s picked up, but you haven’t the slightest idea where you could’ve contracted anything—you didn’t even eat at the festival—until you remember—

A door opens with a bang somewhere in the distance, and it isn’t until the footsteps grow nearer and a blurry figure approaches the bed that you realize the door is the entrance of the room you're in.

“You’ll want to feed soon.” As soon as those words break the quiet, you’re struck by the pungent smell of blood. Unlike the relative lack of response it would elicit any other time, its aroma pokes at a sudden and peculiar craving inside of you, and you find yourself futilely scrabbling on the bed to reach the source. “Lucky you. I have just what you need.”

There is a cold hand tilting your face up, the press of equally cold glass against your bottom lip, then the tang of blood entering your mouth. It is the best thing you have ever tasted, and a slowly dying, still-human part of you is horrified.

You finish the blood quickly. It doesn’t really seem like enough, but it does make you feel a little less like you’re actively decomposing. Despite your hazy vision, there is no misreading the small smile on Taeyong’s face.

“Happy Birthday, little one.”

[seijorhi]

All I Want For Christmas (Is You)

there was a much bigger, much better fic that was planned for this but it wasn’t gonna get finished in time for Christmas so have this drabble-y thing instead ❄️

Bokuto Kotaro x Female Reader

TW implied non-con, implied kidnapping, very slight nsfw

It’s Atsumu who puts the idea in his head.

‘Oi, Bokkun, whaddya want for Christmas?’

Of course, Atsumu only asked because he managed to land Bokuto for secret Santa, and wasn’t all that worried about keeping a secret. And of course, at the time he’d just kinda shrugged and made a vague ‘I-dunno’ sound, eyes all wide and caught on the spot. 

Normally, there’s a list a mile long; new training gear, expensive alcohol, designer clothes, a speaker system for his pad, a fancy new watch he’s had his eye on, a jacuzzi… 

The problem isn’t that he doesn’t want anything this year - it’s that he can’t even begin to think about stuff like that when he‘s hopelessly brokenhearted. 

He never really stood a chance with you. 

You were sunshine. The very moment you laid eyes on him, you smiled and Bokuto’s heart skipped a beat and he fell so damn hard it almost stole his breath away. He could have sworn up and down that he’d been to the little cafe just by the front desk at the gym, but he’d never noticed you before. 

And you were impossible to miss - at least you were to him.

Bokuto can’t remember what he ordered that day, can’t remember what he said or even if he introduced himself - though most cafes ask for your name when you order, don’t they? So surely he had to have told you - all he can remember is the sound of your laugh and the warmth that flooded his gut when your hand accidentally brushed against his. Your skin was so soft and smooth, he still thinks about the way it’d feel to have you touch him on purpose - hands gliding down the planes of his abs, gentle fingers cupping his cheek, your pretty little hand sitting nestled in his.

He thinks (probably a little too much) about what it’d be like to touch you.

Bokuto’s had crushes before, he knows what infatuation is - but this is different. You’re different. It’s not just that you’re so pretty it almost hurts (though you are) or even that you laugh at his jokes and spend the extra few minutes chatting with him when there aren’t too many customers (and he’s gotten pretty damn good at figuring out when those quiet moments are gonna be). He can’t really explain it - he knows it’s love, he’s never felt this way about anyone else - but it’s addictive. 

Being around you - with you - even for a few measly minutes after a long day training makes him happier than he’s ever felt. Makes him think of long summer days spent basking in the sun - a little dazed, but warm, giddy and sated.

But he had to go and fuck that up, didn’t he? 

The date was his idea, but you said yes easily enough. You liked him - don’t think he didn’t notice the way your gaze trailed after him when you thought he wasn’t looking. And if you got all wide eyed and flustered whenever he showed off, tried to impress you with his muscles and golden sense of humour, well who was he to complain?

And of course, he’d asked his teammates for advice, and when that had inevitably failed he’d turned to Akaashi for help. Bokuto wasn’t going to screw this up, everything had to be perfect. 

He was the perfect gentleman - he took you to the local aquarium and then out for dinner afterwards. He brought you flowers and complimented you on your dress (you looked so beautiful, you dressed up all nice and pretty just for him?) and held your hand the entire time - he even offered you his jacket on the walk back home!

It was going great, he just got a little… carried away, s’all. Can you blame him, really? He just loves you so, so much, and you liked him too, right? 

But the sight of you crying, flinching away from him - the pretty eyes he loves to lose himself in filling with fear as you stumbled over excuses in your hurry to get away from him hurt like a dagger shoved deep into his heart.

He thought you wanted it - he certainly did. He’s lost count of the times he’s come undone in the showers at the gym, at home, lying on silk sheets in his bed with his hand wrapped around his aching cock, imagining that it was your sweet, warm cunt he was fucking instead. You’re all he thinks about, he loves you - why can’t you see that? Why don’t you feel it too?

He still doesn’t really understand why you started freaking out when he started to lead you inside after you kissed him on the doorstep, why you fought him so hard when he tried to take your clothes off and kiss you again.

All he knows is that you won’t answer his messages anymore, and when he ducks into the cafe after training instead of a wide sunny smile, your face just pales and you find any excuse to run out back and hide until he leaves. 

It hurts.

He just needs a second chance without you running away from him to explain - no, to show you that the two of you are meant to be together. You don’t have to be scared, baby, he’d never hurt you, he’ll take the best care of you. He loves you so, so much - the two of you are made for each other, he knows it. 

Maybe it’s not something that Atsumu can get for him, but this year Bokuto knows exactly what he wants for Christmas.