#another case of him sniffing stuff

[knottyforlegoshi]

sound bites from the bedroom.

how legoshi sounds in bed. not sfw

"Ah.... Ah...!"

Legoshi does his best to stifle his grunts and moans; he finds them embarrassing and usually has a hand clasped over his jaw to stop himself from getting too loud. When he learns his partner has a kink for his voice though, he does his best to accommodate their wish to hear him while not doing anything too out of his comfort zone.

"God... you're so perfect..."

He usually thinks this while you're riding him. He's clutching your thighs, being careful not to dig his claws into your thighs, but fuck, does it feel too good. He often ends up accidentally blurting out something sweet aloud though, and he always gets embarrassed by it.

"Use me... ngh..."

Legoshi's wet dreams and fap material often centers around the thought of you riding him. He's much too nervous to take control, even in his fantasies, but he does like to think about gripping you fully, helping you take him faster, deeper.

"I want to make you mine."

Legoshi can't suppress his possessive instincts and the need to make you his. He's overwhelmed by the idea of claiming you in such an intimate way.

"I'm about to... I'm gonna c-come inside you.... Tell me I need to stop! Ngh."

He does like to warn you just in case you want him to finish elsewhere. He really really enjoys finishing inside you, but he wants to do what you're comfortable with first and foremost.

"I'm cumming! I can't... control... nghhh."

He's the most vocal when he's cumming. He tilts his head back and whines and whimpers as he slowly bucks his hips into you, making sure to fuck every drop into you. A big thing about Legoshi is control, even in the bedroom. He doesn't want to get too wild and risk hurting you or scaring you.

"Mmph... ah.... I love you."

It's not sex with Legoshi if he's not declaring his love for you. Snout pressed up against your neck as he pants his adoration for you, his hips slowing their thrusts, the two of you joined by his knot. Even balls deep inside you, eyes clenched shut as you ride him. He can't help but blurt out those three words out at the most random moments. Sex with him is very intimate.

"Take it. Fuck... yes. Take it...."

In his rut, he can be quite different. Focused solely on the task before him, of reassuring his and your mutual pleasure. He'll often urge you to take his knot. He enjoys the sight of it disappearing inside your slick channel.

"You're mine."

He gets incredibly possessive during his ruts. He's already pumping load after load into you, his knot not deflating in the slightest. He's already left a bite mark on your neck that proves to any carnivore who bothers sniffing around you're his. It's just the verbal proclamation that seals the deal.

In his rut, he's unfiltered. Lots of growls and groans and curses. His deep voice sending tingles down your spine as he rocks into you. Unashamed of the sheer carnality of his urges. Usually he's not much for dirty talk, but in his rut, he very much leans towards his carnal/possessive side.

"Everyone outside is going to see... how you're mine, and only mine."

He likes to say this when he's indulging in his breeding kink. After filling you up so much to the point you're leaking, to the point where his smell is all over you, inside you. Another claim to show you're his.

"Come for me. I wanna feel you tighten around me. Gonna stuff you again."

Again, he's much more unfiltered and confident in himself in his rut. He becomes much more dominant as well.

"I'm sorry... did I hurt you?"

Legoshi is doting after his ruts or after a rather intense session in general. He takes his time to scan you for any bruises or scratch and feels immensely guilty if he sees any. He's very dutiful about washing you up, cleaning you off, making sure you're comfortable.

"...You liked it? Oh. Okay."

He likes hearing what you like and dislike in your sessions. He always wants to be improving. It still surprises him when you like him to be rough with you. He's so worried about hurting you, but the knowledge that you trust him enough to let him hurt you? He tries so hard not to get aroused by it, but it's hard. (Also he is. Hard.)

[twistyfish]

Your writing is so good whaaatt!! Could you do another comfort fic with the lad boys? Maybe like they come home and the reader is crying for whatever reason and so onnn. I love comfort fics 🤧🤧

thank you very much! here you are. i’m in a bit of a writing slump honestly 🥲, but i tried. also, some of you are requesting, which i’m very grateful for! if I don’t respond immediately it’s because i’m working on something else at the moment.

prompt~ they come home to you crying.

𖣴 𖣴 𖣴 𖣴 𖣴 𖣴 𖣴 𖣴 𖣴 𖣴 𖣴 𖣴 𖣴 𖣴 𖣴 𖣴 𖣴 𖣴 𖣴 𖣴 𖣴

Zayne

You were so exhausted. You woke up with a horrible headache and did badly in training today because of that. Captain Jenna snapped at you over your simple errors, which made you feel worse.

You wordlessly picked a mug out of the cupboard and filled it with water. You brought it to your lips and drank, each gulp sounding against the metronomic headache that wouldn’t let you rest. A trickle of blood dripped down your philtrum, making a small splash in your cup. Sniffing, you wiped your nose.

Each drop of blood that ran from your nose overwhelmed you more and more until you were scrubbing your nose with your sweater sleeve, the wool fibers catching the liquid. You pulled your arm away and it looked like a surgeon’s rags.

Speaking of surgeons, your boyfriend chose that unaesthetic moment of you messily wiping your nose to walk into the kitchen. You put your arm by your side and tried to act normal as he fixed himself a cup of juice.

You kept your back turned to him as he asked, “How was training today?”

“Training was pretty standard. Tara told me she’s thinking of getting a tattoo.”

“Really? Did she tell you what kind of tattoo?”

“A pair of cherries.” You were just making stuff up, trying to find an exit from the conversation so you could clean up. “I’m going to go change into pajamas.” You quickly walked up the stairs before he could say anything.

Lip quivering, you picked out a set of pajamas and put it on the bed. You stripped out of your sweater, and the red patch on the sleeve caught your eye. Shit. Why did you wipe your nose on it? It would definitely stain. You really liked this sweater, too.

You felt your eyes burn, a fun contrast to the other sensations of your throbbing head and leaky nose. Tears slipped from your eyes, and you held back the sobs for a few beats before giving up and muffling your face in the already stained sweater.

You must have been like that for a while, because Zayne meandered upstairs without you hearing and peeked inside the bedroom door. “You’ve been up here for a while. What are you-,” he stopped, eyes widening. “Hey. Hey, what’s wrong?”

He quickly walked over and put a hand on your back, peering down at you. “Is that blood?”

You wiped your face on the sweater before letting it plop to the floor. “Yeah,” you said tearily.

“Why are you bleeding? And why are you crying?” Came his calm response.

“I had a bloody nose, and… I don’t know.” You dissolved into sobs again. He looked at you sadly, his hazel eyes big and worried. He pulled you into a hug, holding you tightly for a few minutes until you calmed down. He rubbed your bare back, feeling the goosebumps and pulling your pajama shirt over your head.

“You don’t have to run away. From me, or your feelings,” he whispered.

𐦖 𐦖 𐦖 𐦖 𐦖 𐦖 𐦖 𐦖 𐦖 𐦖 𐦖 𐦖 𐦖 𐦖 𐦖 𐦖 𐦖 𐦖

Sylus

The air was too heavy. There was too much to dwell on, too many morbid and sickening atrocities that made you feel sour. You couldn’t comprehend how the world was still spinning with so many terrible people weighing it down. You certainly felt like you had been kicked off your axis.

It was more than anyone could take. One too many cases of something horrible on the news, and your stomach was churning. The reporter had described the event so plainly, with a grim resignation. The world was so advanced, and yet….

You didn’t feel the remote slip from your hand. You didn’t hear it clatter on the floor. You didn’t feel the tears swim down your face. You only registered that you were crying when your throat produced a strangled sound, and you finally clapped your hands to your eyes and just bawled.

You cried until you were dehydrated and numb and the garage door opened with a muted whirring. Your large boyfriend entered a few moments later, and you heard a quiet gasp as he took in the sight of you sobbing on the couch.

Sylus seemed less like a fiend and more like a fairy with the way he flitted around you, uncharacteristically lacking composure while trying to figure out what was wrong. By that point, the news had changed to some other story, and he looked confusedly at the TV.

“Darling, are you crying about inflation?”

That didn’t even get a smile from you, so he just picked you up from under the armpits and rocked you slowly, like a baby. You continued to cry softly as he shushed you and whispered comforting words in your ear.

“What’s wrong, sweetie?” He asked gently.

“There are so many bad people in the world,” you managed to say through weak hiccups.

“I know. You’re dating one of them.”

“You’re different,” you mumbled. “

“Oh? How am I different?”

“You’re an evil bastard, but I love you.”

He laughed throatily at that, and you felt a little better.

𓆝 𓆝 𓆝 𓆝 𓆝 𓆝 𓆝 𓆝 𓆝 𓆝 𓆝 𓆝 𓆝 𓆝

Rafayel

You were in a nice hotel, lying amidst silky duvets and plush, fat pillows. The moonlight snuck through the gaps between the ivory curtains and created beautiful spectral patterns on the walls.

Your darling fiancé was sleeping with his arm wrapped around you, so why were your shoulders shaking? Why were soft, choked sobs escaping your lips? Why the hell were you crying on vacation?

You didn’t know. All you did know was that Rafayel was stirring, surely awoken by your movement.

“Are you crying?” He murmured sleepily, propping himself up.

You willed yourself to stop shaking, stop being weak and just shut up. But it wasn’t working. The misery and self pity was eating you alive.

“Oh, sweetie,” he said, gently turning you around and cupping your head, kissing your wet cheek. “Don’t cry. You’ll get dehydrated.”

More tears ran down your face, and he continued to brush them away with soft fingers. “What’s wrong, my gorgeous girl?”

“I don’t know,” you choked out. “I just feel bad.”

“Oh, my love….” Rafayel kissed you again with sweetness and compassion. He combed through your hair with his fingers and rubbed your cheek with his thumb. He didn’t know how to soothe you, so he did the only thing he could think to do. He distracted you.

He brought his lips to yours and gently showed you his love for you. Whatever you were feeling, he would overpower it with all his heart.

✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰

Xavier

The clash of metal exploded in the air as your swords collided yet again, and you dodged another attack. Your eyes were burning. There was absolutely no way you were about to cry while sparring with Xavier.

But the next time your swords collided and you met Xavier’s soft, focused gaze, you failed to hold it back. You stared intently into his eyes as both of you struggled, and while straining against his sword, tears began falling from your eyes. His own eyes widened, and he stepped back, pulling his mask down.

“Are you injured?” He asked worriedly. “Did I hurt you?”

You shook your head, lip trembling. You let out a shaky sob, and that was enough to concern him further.

“__….” He was at a loss for words. He had never seen you cry, and now….

“What happened?” He bent down, trying to assess your expression. You were trying not to let the tears win, but they definitely were. You finally gave up trying to hold it in and let your sword drop to the floor with a soft clink, now crying openly.

Xavier reached out hesitantly and pulled you into his embrace. Both of you were hot and stinky from sparring, but that didn’t matter. Not while you were crying.

You let out muffled sobs into his neck, letting him hold you as the two of you sank to the floor. Your tears mingled with the sweat on his shoulder, and he rubbed your back soothingly as you cried. He held you like that for a while.

“I’m sorry,” you said once the sobs had died down.

“It’s okay. I just want to know where this came from,” he replied in that sweet, soft voice.

“I’m tired,” came your plain response. He didn’t question you further, and gently patted your head.

He helped you pick up your things and walked you to the locker room, and you stopped to take a drink at the water fountain. His gaze was fixed on you as you drank, eyes tracing the curvature of your lips. He was so engrossed in watching you drink that you couldn’t help but feel shy.

You finished drinking and said bye to Xavier, still thinking about the interaction. He was always soft spoken, but you didn’t know he could be this gentle. Maybe you should talk to him more outside of sparring.

[cherrybr4t]

coups and panty stuffing?

A/N: a continuation from cheol + panty sniffing! 😆 THANK YOUU ANON for requesting <3 let’s dive into hard hours. 🍒💋 (WC: 1.9k)

+18, MDNI!!

WARNINGS: smut, unprotected sex, f reader, fingering, panty stuffing (mouth n c*nt), spanking, lots of the nickname baby (from cheol), praising + degradation combi, filth. yep.

roommate!cheol who continues to sneak into your room to steal your pretty panties even after getting caught getting off to it once

roommate!cheol who is now your boyfriend — one thing led to another, confessions were in place and he is still as obsessed with you months after dating

roommate!cheol knows that you’ve been purchasing more panties — raunchy, with little to no coverage, decorative laces ranging from bright red to black, just because you know how much he loves to steal them (or collect them)

roommate/boyfriend!cheol mentions to you how he wants to try panty stuffing, and you agreed—rather excitingly. you trust him, and trust that he’s always able to bring you to new heights of pleasure every time.

“fuck baby, look at you, showing off your pretty collection of panties every night just for me,” he runs his finger along the edges of your new black satin string panty, with decorative lace at the sides. he looks at you like you’re the most beautiful person he’s ever laid eyes on, and you feel it.

“so fucking sexy laid out for me, spoiling me with new pretty panties on your perfect cunt — it’s like opening a present every damn time,” he groans, gripping onto your hips tightly as he lowers himself, face to face with your dripping cunt.

the smell of your arousal makes him so dizzy, nothing could ever beat coming home to you, all wet and ready for him.

“it’s like you want me obsessed with you,” he licks and sucks around your inner thighs as you whine, anticipation causing you to writhe in his grasp.

he holds your hips tighter, not like you had a chance against his strong grasp, “i already am, was — from the very beginning, but god, baby. i just wanna live with your pussy in my face forever,” he moans out, removing the black satin material from you slowly. his fingers play with the sticky substance pulling apart, scooping your essence with his fingers and licking it dry, groaning at how good you taste.

your legs clamp at the sight, rubbing your thighs together subconsciously as you feel yourself drip even more. “cheol…” you prop yourself up on your elbows, admiring your boyfriend as he gets lost in your taste.

“open up for me baby, say ah,” he climbs over you, with your panty scrunched up. you obey, eyes hooded with lust and jaw wide open. he chuckles at the sight, pushing your rolled-up panty into your mouth.

“that’s my good girl, gotta prep you before i stuff those pretty panties up your pretty cunt,” he grabs a hold of your jaw, thumb caressing your cheek, “so fucking gorgeous,”

he pumps two fingers inside you, and your moan gets choked up your throat. “can you taste yourself princess? y’look so pretty with your own panty stuffed in that mouth of yours,” it’s embarrassing how easy his fingers slip in and out of you, and he adds a third, then a fourth finger.

“that pretty cunt just can’t get enough of me huh,” the squelching sounds get faster as he moves his wrist at inhumane speed. the rough movements causing the base of his palm to hit your sensitive nub continuously, and you feel like you’re at your breaking point, letting out cries after cries.

your panty is soaked from your choked out saliva, and you feel tears pricking, it feels too fucking good — “wanna cum baby? not yet you can’t,” he coos, but there’s a sadistic tone to his voice, and you know better than to cum without his consent.

words of plea gets muffled behind your panty, your desperation to cum makes cheol so fucking hard, he’s enjoying it way too much and wants to see how far he can push you.

he removes the soaked fabric from your mouth, making sure you’re able to yell out your safeword in case it gets too much. “think this is ready to go in—” he takes the soaked fabric, before stuffing it in your stretched cunt. “here—fuck baby, your cunt’s so desperate for anything, it sucked it righht in,” he chuckles darkly.

you moan at how full your pussy feels, how the material applies pressure to that spot that makes you weak. cheol starts stroking his own length, on his knees, the pretty sight in front of him makes him sigh in pleasure. his head falls back for a minute, “baby—you’re gonna make me cum—just by laying there looking like the most beautiful piece of artwork,”

hearing his words, you reach up to play with your own tits, wanting to stimulate yourself even more. “that’s right baby, play with yourself for me—looking like my pretty desperate slut,” he bites his bottom lip, letting out an animalistic groan, hands eager to chase his own release.

“to-touch me please, need to feel you. please cheol,” you cry out, eager to do anything for him to just fuck you already. cheol moans, sweat dripping down his chest, before shooting his release all over your tummy to your stuffed pussy. “fuuuuck..so fucking beautiful baby, covered with my cum,” a surge of possessiveness overcomes him as he takes swipes of his cum with his fingers, forcing them down your throat.

you suck and swallow eagerly, ever so enthusiastic in showing him what a good slut you are to him. his one and only, only his.

cheol takes the black satin out of your cunt, and looks at your creamy essence that the thin fabric has been doused in. you feel your whole body flush, suddenly feeling so small under him. “nothing to be embarrassed about baby, you’re perfect,” he gives you a kiss—a wet and sloppy one, before flipping you over, grabbing your legs and propping you up on your knees.

”now it’s time for me to reward my pretty baby—for being so good, looking so fucking pretty with her panties filling her up,” he pushes his already hard again length inside you, hands gripping onto your ass so tight to get a hold of himself.

”aarrgh, cheol, so good—so so good,” you feel cold numbing relief wash all over you, heart rate picking up—finally feeling him inside you. gripping your sheets, you arch back, pushing yourself back—greedy to feel more of him.

his strong hands grip onto your hips so tight you can already foresee the bruises in the mirror later, and that does nothing but make you moan even louder. “yeah?” he gives a hard smack across your cheeks, the jiggle making him pound even harder inside you. “look so good bent over on your knees for me, made for me weren’t you,”

“y-yes cheol, fuck—“ he feels that familiar pulse around his cock. knowing that he didn’t let you cum earlier, he knows you deserve nothing but to cum right now. and he also knows that you’re his good girl that will only cum on his command.

”cum. cum for me now baby, remind me what a good slut you are for me, hmm?” he brings a hand to your clit, rubbing tight circles in an insane speed, knowing just what you need to reach your high.

and you snap. seeing stars in front of you, you scream out, and the pleasure bleeds into the pain of cumming so hard—before all you can feel is the gratification of blissful release.

cheol slows down, before pumping himself and releasing himself for the second time all over your ass marked red with his handprints.

you both still for a moment, before collapsing on your backs.

he leans in to give you a peck, “you did so well for me baby, bath time?” you nod slowly, exhausted, reaching your arms up for him to carry you.

roommate turned boyfriend!cheol is always the sweetest; and the nastiest(affectionately) in bed and catching him getting off to you may’ve been the best accident ever!

A/N: my endings are aws…subpar..horrible..ANWS. I HOPE U LIKE IT @ anon,, and i hope i did panty stuffing justice. if u liked it, feel free to like/rb/comment how u felt abt it <3 ALRIGHT I LOVE U GUYS BYE 💋🍒

[maybankswhore]

𝐀𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐒𝐓.

summary: the possibility of a relationship with you was enough to give rafe cameron the hope of something better.

lyrics: “ to live for the hope of it all. cancel plans just in case you call. ” & “ back when we were still changing for the better. wanting was enough. for me it was enough. ”

folklore masterlist. . .

Rafe knew what it was going to be from the start. He knew it was wrong , not that he ever cared about the difference between right and wrong and where his choice fell between that line. Somewhere deep inside of him— he knew he wasn’t the chosen one. He knew that it was a fling , that you were still growing up and figuring life out as you went along. Rafe knew he was a pit stop through your journey , but he didn’t regret it.

It all happened by coincidence. Right place at the right time.

After another shit day dealing with his dad , Rafe had ran off to the beach. Usually he would’ve sniffed some coke and gone to a strip club , but he just didn’t have the energy.

He liked the beach at night , anyway. It was quiet. There usually wasn’t anyone else there and the sound of the waves crashing against one another soothed him. Helped him forget. Helped him focus.

The moon was currently at its crescent stage. The stars twinkled a little bit brighter , and it reflected against the water. His shoulders weren’t tensed. His chest wasn’t heavy. He could breathe.

When he stumbled across you , sitting in the sand with your head in your knees , crying loudly to yourself— he stared. He just stared. His brain was telling him— no , yelling , at him to walk away. Mind his business. Although he couldn’t see your face , he knew exactly who it was sitting there.

You had the same denim shorts that you always wore over your pink bikini. Your hair was wild around you , blowing softly in the wind. It pushed your vanilla scented perfume his way and he froze— gulping.

“Hey. . .”

His voice had startled you. It made you gasp and retreat within yourself. Instinctively bringing an arm up to cover your face. Rafe stood there with his hands in his pocket , a stoic expression on his face.

“Rafe?”

You said his name so softly , so shyly. Rafe couldn’t deny that the sound made the hairs on his arm stand. Goosebumps.

“You , uh , you okay?” He asked awkwardly. He cursed himself inwardly for the stupid question and tried his best to keep himself emotionless. Regardless , you were a pogue. JJ’s pogue girlfriend nonetheless. He shouldn’t have even tried talking to you. He should’ve walked away , let you cry.

But he didn’t.

And to this day , despite everything , he didn’t regret it.

That night he had sat with you. And it was the first night in his entire life that he had felt comfortable. There was this aura around you that was safe. You looked at him with softness , like he was fragile and he hadn’t ever experienced something like that in his life.

He hung on to your every word , listening , learning. It was just you and him underneath a big open sky and Rafe could feel it melting off of him. That baggage. That. . . that hurt.

He didn’t know how you did it , but you had managed to make a tiny , minuscule crack in the huge cement walls he had built around himself.

After that , it just seemed to fall into place. You’d meet him there almost every night. At first it was innocent. You’d bring a blanket , grinning as he approached. The two of you talked about nothing serious. The light stuff. Getting to know eachother , friendly.

And then. . . and then it happened. Rafe still doesn’t know he allowed it. It happened quick , but the memory was anything but blurry. He remembered it vividly , forever replaying that moment over and over again in the back of his mind.

This night was different. Something tense hung over in the air. Something Rafe couldn’t quite understand. Not at the time.

Your head was leaning on his shoulder. Both of you stared forward , watching as the waves raced against eachother. Racing against time , against this one moment that was so fleeting— so temporary. Something Rafe knew , you knew , but both refused to acknowledge.

“Isn’t it crazy? That we understand eachother so well?” You murmured to him.

Rafe hummed. “So much for that whole Kook versus Pogue thing.”

You pushed yourself off of him , and looked at him. “You’re not who I thought you were.” There wasn’t anything mean hidden behind your sentence. You said it softly , quietly. A hidden message that he understood.

Finally , he had tore his eyes away from the water and looked at you. Really looked at you. His breath was caught in his throat and his chest was aching. The air was warm , it smelled like pine and wood mixed with the saltiness of the sea. The night air clung to you gracefully , suiting you. The aura around you was clear to see. You were glowing underneath the stars and Rafe swore to himself he’d never forget what you looked like. Nothing in his life , had ever come close to being that beautiful.

“What if I am?” He wondered. Second guessing her , and himself. “What if I am this terrible person everyone thinks I am?”

Your face relaxed. It softened as you stared in his eyes. Rafe noticed how the crinkles by your eyes disappeared and your lips pursed as if wondering what you should say next.

“You aren’t.” You said it with such certainty , it took him back. “You’re broken. We all are. It doesn’t make you a terrible person.”

In an instant , Rafe’s entire perspective of himself had changed. The little boy inside of him cried. He felt understood , and truly seen. Seen by an angel. Without thinking , without knowing , Rafe leaned forward to kiss you. It was soft , hesitant , like he was asking for permission to continue.

Then as if the stars aligned for just the two of you , you melted into him. You kissed him back. Everything around you had faded , everything before him— before this moment had disappeared because nothing else mattered. At least right now.

The feel of your lips were soft and gentle. Tender. He was afraid to rush it and it’d disappear. Deep down he knew that the outcome would be nothing short of painful but he didn’t care. Not now. Right now , all he could focus on was you. How it felt to be loved by you.

Rafe’s lips felt like a puzzle against yours. His hand reached up to hold the side of your face gently , deepening the kiss to secure the connection floating between the two of you.

He could taste the sweetness of summer on your mouth. His tongue slipping past the barrier of your lips to consume all parts of you. To enjoy , to feel , to taste everything he could.

As the two of you pulled , Rafe leaned his forehead against yours breathlessly. Both pair of lips swollen , both cheeks flushed and both chest heaving.

It was a mess.

A beautiful mess.

But still , a mess.

“We should come back here tomorrow night.” You breathed , letting your eyes stay closed.

And Rafe nodded.

He knew this wasn’t going to last forever. That this was temporary.

But for now , it was enough. The summer , August , you— this , it was enough.

And he would keep coming back as long as you wanted him to , over and over again.

Which he did. Nights turned into days. Days turned into weeks. As he promised , he kept coming back. But as time went on , the more pulled back you were. The stolen kisses were now sparse. And you were more reserved during sex.

You were pulling away from and he knew why.

You had mentioned it in June , when he first met you on the beach. The reason you were crying: because JJ had left for the summer. JJ didn’t tell you why. Just kissed you goodbye , promising he’d come back.

He just guessed that with summer ending , you were expecting JJ back. JJ. Not him.

Never him.

Rafe wasn’t stupid. He knew was mourning you before you even left him. Not that you could leave him. You weren’t ever really his , were you?

“I don’t want you to forget about me.” Rafe said in the middle of August. He couldn’t help but feel sad. “Forget about what we have. Forget about summer.”

The look in your eyes he’d never forget.

“I could never forget this.”

And then , Rafe decided , that everything was worth it. The loving and the losing.

tag list: @redhead1180 @eddsthemunson @valuunit @a-lovers-card

[chrisisvbun]

guilty as sin. logan howlett x bunny!femreader

synopsis: after realizing that Jean wasn't really the best option, Logan decides it's time for him to forget about dating and shit and try to put his libido on being an xmen (tho he'll never confess it). That until, in a mission, they find the most dangerous mutant... a bunny mutant.

cw: age gap (logan is 35-40, reader is 25-30); a bit of chasing game; dom!Logan; mention of prostitution, killing, poison, seizures, non-con and neglection; brat!reader but also really submissive; reader goes by she/her, afab terms used top; animalistic stuff like heats, and scents and shit; logan's wolf side is exaggerated; reader is much smaller than Logan; albin!reader and her appearence its described; smut, creampie, praise kink, really animalistic, slight fingering, unprotected p in v. red coded character bcs logan has a type, obviously. A bit of ooc!Logan sorry.

words: 4.3k

second.

"Show yourself!" Scott's shout echoed in the big house.

"Sure, now they're gonna show themselves, of course." Logan teased, which only earned him a dirty look from Cyclops. "Relax, glasses, I'm sure t-"

Whatever tease was about to come out from Logan's lips was interrupted by the sound of wood cracking. Scott, Jean, Ororo and him looked around, but the first three moved their eyes to Logan, who was the one with sharp audition.

The mission requires the four best mutants of Xavier. The mutant they were chasing was, apparently, the most dangerous mutant around at that time, nobody knew how they looked like, because they were really quiet when killing with some type of poison. The four heroes were expecting any type of lizard or reptile, or a mutant that had poison abilities, so they tried to be as cautious as possible.

Logan looked at began sniffing around, too. I have smelled prey. It was a scent that he had smelled back when he was in the mountains, but never again until that second. He frowned, confused, and wrinkled his nose more like that would help distinguish the source.

"What is it—" Scott asked.

"Sh."

"What is it, Logan?" Jean asked.

Logan sniffed a bit more before answering. "Meat."

"Huh?" Storm said. "Meat?"

Another creek.

Everyone turned their head to try finding the source of the sound. Logan seemed to find it and began approaching slowly to the pile of wood in the corner of the house.

"You can come out."

No answer.

"Come out." He ordered. But still no answer.

It is public knowledge that Logan was not a man of much patience, he snaps quickly, just like now. He dumped the pile of wood away with his claws, to expose the creature behind it.

Everything they expected: a lizard, a reptile, a poison mutant, everything evaporated in the mere thought when Logan saw those long, white, fluffy, bunny ears falling on the sides of your pale face.

Logan frowned, confused. "This is the most dangerous mutant?" He chuckled as he retracted his claws.

You, a bunny mutant, were shaking in tour place, wrapped around yourself while you looked at Logan with eyes bright with fear.

Yeah, a bunny mutant, that's why he smelled meat, why he smelled prey.

"Don't worry, bub. 'not gonna hurt you." He said, looking at you up and down. He reached his forearm for you to grab like he was to scared to put his hands on you in case he would break you. You sniffed at his arm a bit, your flat pink nose moving up and down quickly as you took in his scent.

Shyly, you put your small pale hands on his big forearm and lifted yourself.

Logan didn't miss a chance to check your appearance. You had pale skin, a pinkish hue in your elbows, shoulders, nose, and cheeks, your eyes were big and red, bright as two rubies, your hands were small, you were small in general, and your body was so tiny in comparison to his. So delicate, like porcelain. Like it's been mentioned before, you had a flat, pink nose that wrinkled whenever you began sniffing something, and your pale face was between two long, fluffy, white bunny ears. Logan also noticed how your arms, legs, neck, face, and whole body were covered in a white, soft fur. When you turned around to see the rest of the team, Logan saw your round, fluffy, white bunny tail lifting the back of your short dress.

Wait, a short, slik dress? In a house like this?

Logan instantly frowned, glancing at his team with you still gripping at his forearm.

"Logan, careful." Scott stood in front of Jean, trying to protect her.

"You want to protect her from this?" Logan chuckled, pointing at you. "Sure thing, bub."

"Charles said we were going to meet the most dangerous mutant around..." Jean said.

"I'm sorry, but that doesn't look that dangerous..." Storm crossed her arms, looking at you, smiling at the sight of your white curly hair falling messigly through your shy, scared eyes.

"Why would they say she is dangerous when she looks like this?" Scott put his hands in his waist.

"I don't know, but they seem harmless to me too" Jean peeked through Scott's figure.

"More like a scared little creature rather than a dangerous mutant, yeah" Storm kneeled a bit.

While they talked, Logan was looking at your tail. Yeah, he was almost ignoring your round, fat ass, just looking at your puffy tail. Out of instinct, he moved his hand to touch it, grabbing it in his hand and squeezing a bit, gently.

"Soft..." He mumbled.

Yeah. He better have enjoyed it, because in the second you felt a strange hand from someone who smelled like a predator grabbing your tail from behind, you sank your nails in his chest, the red poison getting in his system for long enough to make Logan faint , but not enough to kill him, just because Scott managed to shoot some tranquilizer in your neck.

(...)

Logan woke up in the nurse bed of the mansion. Because it was a familiar situation, he just stood up, plugged the wires off and walked out, grabbing his white top that was on the chair.

As soon as he had his shirt on, his searched for the team until he found them at Charles office, where he barged in.

"What a pleasant entrance" Scott said in a mumbled, which made Logan roll his eyes.

"What the hell happened and where the fuck is that bunny bitch?" Logan frowned.

"Relax, Logan, we will explain everything" Charles said.

The explanation had a bit of a lore. You were victims of a group of men that experimented with babies to turn them into mutants. But these weren't any men, and they didn't want any mutants. We are talking about pimps indeed, and they decided, after investigating the porn industry for a long time, to create women that had everything a nasty, kinky man would want, they created a mutant for every fetish a man could imagine. For example, a bunny woman. Of course, they also took their time to perfect this and made them age slower, so even though you were close to thirty, you hardly looked twenty. And obviously, they didn't do it for the hell of it, clients paid big amounts of money to have a scent of you. Men took their time to praise you before taking you over and over again. You were desired and you hated it.

This went through since you were fifteen, of course in this type of industry, age was the last thing they cared about. And they had you in the worst conditions ever, not just you, because it wasn't just you. There were too many women in those conditions, in that situation. To say a number, you once counted fifty in one room, and there were more than forty rooms, you do the math. all stacked, one over the other in not enough beds, crying, suffering, your bodies bruised, dirty, abused.

Logan couldn't help but feel bad. Bad is an understatement. Awful. Because how such a delicate, pure thing like you could have gone through that? He was furious.

The end of the story is that the tools those men used to turn you into a mutant had... imperfections, which caused your defensive ability. You had a chemical that they've used on the creation of your mutation running through your blood and you were able to expulse it through your fingertips, so when you sank your nails into someone's flesh, the poison went through your nails to get to that person's system, causing a seizure that led them to death, of course.

Thanks to Logan's healing abilities, that didn't happen, but Logan noticed how you were determined to do it, to kill him, how scared you were of, not him, but every single man that laid his hands on you without your consent.

The reason why you were in that silk, dark green dress, that covered your body till half way of your thigh, was that that was the last 'meeting' you had with a man. You had been convocated to get to that cabin with another woman, before that happened, the pimps were already suspecting that you were the one that was killing all of their clients, and you suspected that you weren't gonna go home after that 'meeting' in the cabin with a regular.

Thinking about it, you didn't mind the sex. The clients were usually handsome men, and because you were 'the bunny girl' they've always praised you over and over again, you were the pretty bunny, you were a delicate feather, they didn't want to break you, even the ones that had a corruption kink. You were the premium meat, that's what they used to call you when selling you, you were available for the best and only the best clients. You were the luckiest, and the one that worked harder, because you would've gotten touched and fucked at least two times a day. The thing that made you sick was the context, you knew that you would love to fuck those men if you would've done it willingly, but the mere thought of someone paying to have the freedom to use you made you sick. Why? You didn't understand, they were handsome men, and they could've found a pretty woman like you in a bar if they wanted. But no, why? Because they wanted the bunny. The fat prize.

But when the pimps began suspecting, the type of men that you were given to began to be worse, not because they were ugly, but because they were less kind. This last client was one of those, and for your luck, this girl that came with you was one of your closest friends, a girl that was also a hybrid, an orange cat hybrid. And the mess started.

The second the client began to get violent, you sank your claws into his shoulders and watched him faint above you. In that second, the security of the pimps walked in and tried to get rid of you, making a mess in the house till you managed to get rid of all. You were punched and bruised, fortunately, no open wounds, but you were exhausted. Your friend got rid of the bodies and said they were going to find help, but never came back. You thought she got caught, and that's why she never came back, but a part of you feared that maybe she just ran away and left you there.

Anyway, that's how you ended up there, in that dress, covered in that mess of a house. Logan couldn't believe what he was hearing, the team always thought they could avoid all of the mutants' pain, but they didn't know half of them to even start thinking about saving them.

"She is going to stay, of course. Not only for her safety but also because we have to get as much information as we can of this sick business" Charles explained.

And that's what happened. Logan stepped in the kitchen where you were sitting peacefully, with a bowl of cereal, binging at it like it was your last meal. The second your gazes connected, you couldn't help to get embarrassed and put the bowl down, sitting straight as looking at him. "Hi." You mumbled shyly.

"Hi there, bun." He smiled. Not just you but everyone was surprised that he wasn't mad at you.

"I'm sorry... that I tried killing you... you scared me" You said, playing with your spoon.

Logan chuckled. "That's okay, bunny, it's in the past." He leaned on the counter, you had a grey jumper with the school logo, and grey sweatpants and you were barefoot, your toes didn't even reach the floor. "That jumper suites you."

"You think I'm a prey." You talked on top of him. A silence built between you two, and you broke it. "You are a wolf, aren't you?"

"Yes and no, sweetheart." He sighed. "You do smell like a good piece of meat, tho"

You frowned a bit. "A piece of meat?"

Logan pressed his lips in a line. "Yeah, that didn't sound pretty well, did it?"

"Surely didn't" You put your plate on the sink next to him, and he took his time to see your tail peeking between your jumper and your sweatpants.

"It was soft, you know?" He cleared his throat.

"I live with it 24/7" You said, putting your clean plate in the dryer before looking at him. "Of course I know it's soft."

Logan chuckled. "Careful with your tone, rabbit".

You raised an eyebrow, not really enjoying the tease. "Dumb wolf." You muttered before walking to your room.

You didn't like him, yeah. But he? Oh, he craved you.

(...)

Slowly, you began to adapt to your new life. It was hard, you went through a life in which you were neglected and abused, to one where you had anything you could ask for.

Months came by, and Xavier asked you to coordinate the art club, which you gladly did since you loved art.

You hung out a lot with Ororo, Kurt, surprisingly Logan (more like joking, teasing and mocking you until you git comfortable enough to through them back at him), and the kids, you didn't avoid the rest, but you were pretty shy, so you didn't approach them.

But of course, you couldn't ignore the times were Logan stood in the doorframe of your classroom and watched you teach the kids, your apron covered in paint as you tried to help the teens and the little ones to paint on their canvases. You also couldn't ignore the way he smiled at you, always saying that he is just checking that Rouge is having a good time.

You also noticed how mad he would get whenever you spoke to Kurt in the library, how would you look up at him, accommodating your white hair behind your ear as you smiled. He could get so pissed with just that, so furious because he wanted those smiles, he wanted to see your skin wrinkle around your red eyes standing in front of you, looking at you, having you looking at him.

Having you.

Gosh, what was wrong with him?

It was something primal that got him whenever he saw your white body hair, or whenever he saw you in the living your, cutting your dresses so you could accommodate your pompom tail, or whenever you watched television with Ororo in the TV room, surrounded by the kids, wearing some cozy pajamas.

He didn't put a single finger on you, tho. He has never touched that hairy skin of your, tho he craved it.

He couldn't understand if he sexually wanted you or if he was just so desperate for your attention. Maybe both. Maybe none... no, definitely both, yeah.

He could dream about you for a week, about having you in his arms, sometimes not doing anything, just running his hands through your fur up and down slowly, petting you, showing you how much of him you had. Other nights, he was just fantazising about parting your wet cunt in half with his cock.

He is not guilty, he thinks, it's normal. Although, he was indeed thinking like a teen.

One of sleepover nights, he was drinking a coke with Bobby in the kitchen, hearing you laugh and chat with Ororo and the rest of the kids until he just heard your voice and Rouge's. Both boys stood up and peeked through the living room, seeing all the kids and Ororo sleeping, one girl had her head in your lap as you caressed her ginger hair softly. When both of you heard them approach, you turn to them and giggled.

"What's so funny?" Bobby asked Rouge.

"Nothing, nothing" she giggled, looking at the white-haired one.

"Wolf, help me get the kids to bed" you said, passing right by him with a girl in your hands.

Logan sighed, pressing his tongue in the inside of his bottom lip. "Yes, ma'am" he said, and grabbed one kid in his arms.

"Bobby, Marie, you too. Go to sleep, come on." You said, both kids sighed and nodded.

When everyone was all tucked in at their rooms (including Ororo) you began climbing upstairs.

"Bunny."

You flipped around, looking at him with those big eyes he loved so bad.

"Hm..."

Some way, you were sitting on the counter, him in a chair of the kitchen table, both drinking from your cola bottles silently. He couldn't take his eyes from you, you are wearing a red silk pajama, thin straps held your breasts from peeking out from that thin fabric, and the scent of your exposed skin was driving him mad. He was about to get feral, that a sure thing. And seeing your white-haired thighs brushing against each other as you bounced your lega in the counter wasn't helping him either.

"So..." He started, trying to distract himself. "You adapted pretty well" he took a sip.

"Uh-hum." You said, playing with the straw of your bottle. "Ororo and Kurt helped a lot."

Logan grumbled at the mention of the German. "Yeah, Kurt..."

"Yeah, Kurt." You repeated with a giggle at his disgusted tone. "What's the matter with him?"

"Nothing, nothing, he is just a weirdo".

"We are all weirdos here, Logan" You laughed, taking a sip.

"He is just a guy with weird eyes and fur, no big deal." He rolled his eyes.

You raised your eyebrows. "What am I then?" You crossed your legs.

Logan looked at you, the white fur in your bare legs and your red big eyes, and he chuckled.

"You don't want me to answer that, bunny." he drank the whole bottle.

"No, please, illuminate me, wolf." You crossed your arms too. "Because last time I checked I also have a strange eye color and fur all over. What am I?" You got off the counter, still crossing your arms as you looked at him cleaning the glass bottle.

He put it on the counter with a dry noise, looking down at you with a small smirk.

"You are a beautiful, small, vulnerable, delicious bunny with gorgeous ruby eyes and fucking cutest fur i've ever seen" He smiled as biting his lip, looking down at you, taking long steps to approach to you, as you stepped back. "You happy?"

"What makes you think I'm delicious?" You asked, stepping into the wall.

Logan chuckled dryly again. "Out of all the things I said, you kept that?" He laughed. "Damn rabbit, you know well that I can smell how sweet you are."

"I don't." You stepped firm, crossing your arms, looking at him. You tried to stay firm but as you could smell him, he obviously could scent your arousal. He was laughing at you.

He sighed exaggerating, looking at you up and down. "You smell really good, bunny, and you are so tiny too, you know how much I'm restraining myself to not scoop you up?" He kept teasing you, loving how, with every word, you were squeezing harder against nothing.

He got closer, one hand on the wall and the other moving up your thigh, not touching you. You looked confused and he looked up at you, pausing everything.

"May I?" He asked, your felt your breath hitch in your throat as you nodded, you could've came right there. God, he was doing the bare minimum and he was so hot while that.

"Yeah..." You answered in a nod.

His hand pressed against your thigh, his fingertips squeezed around the white hair of your leg, he smiled at the feeling. "So soft, such a soft flesh, bunny. I could devour you."

God, please do. You didn't know why or when Logan became so hot, maybe all the teasing, all the mocking, and all the jokes were a way for you guys to mate. You don't really care now, your throbbing pussy either. You don't remember if you got this wet when he asked to touch you, when he called you delicious, when he asked you to have a drink with him in the kitchen or when he peeked through the living room wearing that tight white top that showed his huge tanned shoulders so perfectly. Definitely the last one, yeah.

His hand began to climb up, your hands gripped his shoulders as your breath got heavier. His touch was gentle and soft, like you were made out of porcelain. His hands touched your center, that point were your lips touched against each other again in your juicy pussy, he chuckled in a mocking tongue. "What got you so wet, bub? I didn't even started" He said in your mouth, laughing on top of your lips.

Your body began to warm up, your whole body began to get so hot and sweaty as his fingers bullied your clothed entrance. "That's it, that's a good bunny. 'M getting you all ready for me, I don't need you wet for this, I need you dripping" He was teasing you so bad, mocking your reactions at his fingers in your most sensitive part. When you frowned, he did the same, when you opened your mouth to moan, he would imitate you too. "Such a pretty little thing, getting all wet for your mate."

"Logan, please..."

"Please what, rabbit?" He pushed the clothes covering your heat.

"Please! I need..." You tried to talk, but moaned loudly.

"You need what, bunny? Use that pretty mouth of yours." He used his free hand to squeeze your cheeks until your mouth was opened. "Gosh, one day I'm gonna fill that mouth of yours. I want this beautiful lips around some good stuff, but not now, sweetheart, I need to show you what you are here for, bun'".

(...)

Your face was pressed on the cold counter of the kitchen, your mouth drooled your saliva as you tried to speak, only being able to babble some incoherent words. Your saliva was mixing with your pleasure and pain tears, because Logan was gripping your bunny ears tight from behind as he thrusts against your wet, tight pussy. His free hand us pressing your middle back, making you arch your spine, giving him the best angle ever as you cried and moaned.

His tip was hitting your cervix perfectly, your velvety insides were squeezing him tight, almost sucking him in. He groaned every time he thrusted his hips against your ass, the kitchen getting filled with the wet noises of his balls against your skin. He looked down to the spot where his cock disappeared inside of you, the ring of precum mixed with your slick in his base.

Your toes hurt as you were on your tiptoes and your nails scratched the marble of the counter in desperation as he quicked his pace.

"Gosh, bunny, so freaking tight..." He growled under his breath. Even though you had been fucked a lot, you were still so tight inside, and he was going nuts about it.

He moved the hand that he had in your back to your low stomach, caressing your womb and almost moaning at the feeling of his tip pressing against it.

"Taking me so freaking well, gosh." He bit his lip and closed his eyes as he kept fucking you.

You were so cock drunk from him, you had a very sexual life but no cock had opened you so well like Logan's did. Not only it was huge, but also it was so warm that almost felt like a cuddle for your insides. From now on, you are sure that you'll get wet with just the thought of his warm, fat cock inside of you.

"Please..." you cried and drooled, Logan chuckled, his eyes still closed.

"Please what, rabbit?" He teased.

You moved your hips in circles and he pulled your ears more, making you lift your head from the counter.

"Words." He ordered.

" 'm gonna come..." You managed to say, hissing in a beautiful pain. "M-may I?"

So fucking polite, he thought.

"I couldn't deny you that, no when you asked so nicely, bun'" He smiled widely and bit his lip, starting to fuck you almost brutally. "Come on my cock, be a good bunny."

You screamed at his new pace, your hands gripping the edge of the counter, crying pathetically when his cock began hitting your sweet point.

He was looking for your pleasure desperately, he wanted you to feel so good, so drunk in him. And god he was being successful, you had never been so well fucked, he was taking great care of you.

It didn't take you much longer to come in his cock, your body shivering as saliva dripped on the counter with your tears, your eyes rolled to the back of your head as you tensed your body and your pussy began dripping your release.

You didn't notice you were about to wall in the ground until Logan hugged your waist and flush you against him completely, filling you with his seed, you swear you heard him moan in your ear as he did, even though he is sure he doesn't moan.

He leaned against the table for a second, still hugging you and panting heavily. His hand caressed your belly with lazy patterns.

"Too rough?" He asked. You denied.

"Just perfect." You answered breathlessly, he huffed a smile. "Thanks."

"Anytime, bunny."

"I have a name, you know?" You chucked a bit.

"Bunny suits you better." He kissed your shoulder. "Let's get you cleaned up so you can rest that pretty ass for yours." You laughed as he lifted you, grabbing your princess style to walk you to your room.

[catapparently]

Kaz Brekker Headcanons

Cat entering her hc era thanks to my maid of honor @x-liv25 . Please go read her TIG headcanons!

MASTERLIST

Kaz once said "you shouldn't make friends with crows," "why not?" "they don't have any manners." I headcanon that he tried to feed a crow and actually be nice to it but it bit him so now he forever holds the grudge

He has a stack of makeup in his desk drawer in case he needs to change his face up a bit for a job and he's excellent at it

At some point, when he was still struggling with finding a job after Jordie's death, he stole someone's purse and found bronzer/contour that he used to draw himself abs to look strong and "hirable".

He doesn't mind touching animals without his gloves

He realized that when he tried to save an abandoned kitten in the rain when he was younger

He felt bad for it because it reminded him of him and Jordie

He saw it as a debt-ish to Jordie to save the kitten

It once brought Kaz a mouse as a gift and Kaz genuinely appreciated the gesture

Kaz POV: "What a distinguished gentleman who knows I'm worthy of great gifts and appreciation"

Kaz knew he couldn't really keep a cat in his line of work, it'd be a weakness, so when it was old enough, he snuck it into Pekka's office and watched the vicious little feline tear Pekka's stuff to shreds

"A cat after my own heart"

When Kaz got the Dregs tattoo, he didn't want the artist to touch him, so he tattooed the logo himself. It was a bit shaky but then he hired a Tailor to fix the edges without touching him

Alternative solution to the bad edges: He fixes them up with stolen foundation whenever he isn't wearing long sleeves or something that would cover it up.

They day he first saw Inej and she snuck up on him, he had a panic attack but hid it well

At this point in his life, he was used to being in control, to knowing everything. Having Inej sneak up on him (and knowing that she could have potentially killed him without him having time to retaliate had she been trained) freaked him out. He felt weak, Kaz Rietveld again.

Kaz spends half an hour every other day locked in his office without his gloves, lathering his hands in hand cream.

Whenever he'd grab someone by the collar or any form of violence with contact, the last thing the victim could think about is why his hands smell nice. Nobody ever lived to tell the tale.

He's a sucker for a good chocolate cake.

He absolutely HATES ice cream. It makes too much of a sticky gooey mess for him.

He also probably has a sensitive throat so he doesn't really eat cold/frozen stuff or drinks

Once he made a deal with Nina which resulted in him going to a café to buy her a pumpkin spice latte. Once he sniffed Nina's, he quickly bought another one for himself and chugged it before he could get back. Obviously he did that in a dark alleyway so that nobody could see him and use it as blackmail.

Once he used (obviously stolen) paint to decorate his very own set of cards.

He then made another elaborate plan of his and managed to auction them off for a grotesque amount of kruge.

Probably forged DeKappel's signature on the back of each with perfect precision

For those that forgot, DeKappel is some famous painter in the series. Kaz stole a DeKappel oil painting from Van Eck.

Help I didn't realize how fun HCs were, I could make a thousand of these

[doctorbitchcrxft]

The Benders | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader (Eventual)

Warnings: people are crazy, canon violence, canon gore

Word Count: 2370

A/N: I'm scheduling two of these today since this one's so short!! The Benders episode makes me really uncomfortable, tbh, so I kinda sped through it... lol

Mobile Supernatural Series Rewrite Masterlist

Supernatural Series Rewrite Masterlist

Supernatural Series Rewrite Playlist

You and the boys sniffed out a case in Hibbing, Minnesota. A child had watched a neighbor get dragged under his car. When you spoke to the young boy, his mother didn’t seem to believe him at all. You decided to head to a bar to collect your thoughts and grab a beer. 

You and Dean played darts while Sam explained to you that his dad had earmarked this area due to the insane number of disappearances in this area. In the midst of his explanation, you realized you needed to change your tampon and hadn’t brought any into the bar with you.

“Dean, keys?” you asked.

He tossed them at you. "Why, you stealin' my car?"

“Gotta go get some girl stuff,” you responded.

“Gross. Don’t wanna know.” You knew he was kidding by the smirk on his face.

You scoffed. “It’s not gross, it’s natural! Asshole.” You shoved his shoulder playfully and headed out of the bar. On your way out, you heard a noise and stopped. You turned over your shoulder to the other cars lining the gravel parking lot, feeling uneasy. You pushed through it, deciding that it wouldn’t take you longer than two seconds to get back inside after you’d grabbed your products. 

You turned at another sound, hurrying over to the Impala. You reached into the trunk and grabbed what you needed. Before you could even turn back around, you were lying on the gravel out cold.

***

The next thing you knew, you jerked up in a metal cage covered with hay at the bottom. Your hair felt a mess, and the back of your head was tender from your fall. You looked to your left and noticed the guy you’d originally come to investigate the disappearance of asleep in the cage next to you. You scrambled to your feet, trying to kick the cage door open. Nothing was working.

Stirring in the cage next to you caught your attention. “You’re alive! You okay?” you asked.

Mr. Jenkins groaned. “Does it look like I’m doin’ okay?”

You stretched your neck. “Touché. Where are we?’

“I don’t know. The country, I think. Smells like the country,” the man responded.

“You’re Alvin Jenkins, aren’t you?”

He nodded.

“I was lookin’ for you,” you told him.

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you nodded.

“Well, no offense, but this is a piss-poor rescue.”

You kept up your plucky attitude in spite of the sinking feeling in your stomach. “Well, my friends are out there right now, too. They’re lookin’ for us. So—”

“So, they’re not gonna find us. We’re in the middle of nowhere.” He nodded at the door of the building you were in. “Waiting for them to come back and do god-knows-what to us.”

“What are they? Have you seen them?” you asked.

He looked at you confused. “What are you talking about?”

“Whatever’s got us, what’d they look like?”

“See for yourself,” he said.

At that moment, the door opened and two men wearing black hats and coats walked in. One walked over to Alvin’s cage and kicked the side of it. Alvin moved back into the corner, yelling at them not to touch him as they entered the cage. Instead of doing anything to him, they just left a plate of food on the floor and left.

“I’ll be damned,” you said more to yourself than your fellow kidnappee. “They’re just people.”

Alvin looked at you like you were stupid. “Yeah. What’d you expect?”

You paused a moment. “How often do they feed you?”

“Once a day. And they use that thing over there to open the cage.” The man pointed at a panel on a post a few feet away.

“And that’s the only time you see ‘em?”

He shrugged. “So far. But I’m waitin’.”

“Waitin’ for what?”

“Ned Beatty time.”

“That's fucking gross, dude.”

“What do you think they want, then?”

You began trying to climb the walls of your cage to grab a long metal wire stretching from the top of the pole next to you to the ground. You got hold of it and began pulling down the wire. “Depends on who they are.”

“They’re a bunch of psycho hillbilly rednecks, if you ask me. Lookin’ for love in all the wrong places.”

You continued to pull on the wire, doing your best to hold yourself up, and it gradually began to detach from the pole.

***

Hours had gone by. You were still trying to pull the wire off; climbing back up and continuously slipping down the cage’s metal bars.

“Why don’t you give it up, sweetheart, there’s no way out,” Alvin told you.

“Don’t call me that!” You used your anger and frustration to finally tear the wire down. A piece of metal fell with it. “It’s a bracket.”

Alvin scoffed. “Well, thank God, a bracket. Now we’ve got ‘em, huh?” 

His cage suddenly swung open on its own. He scrambled out of it. “Maybe you knocked somethin’ loose.”

Your heart rate began to pick up. “I think you should get back in there, Jenkins. This isn’t right.”

“Don’t you wanna get out of here?” 

“Of course, I do. But that was too easy.” Your mind was going a million miles per minute.

“Look, I’m gonna get out of here, and I’m gonna send help, okay, don’t worry,” he assured you, turning for the door.

“I’m serious, dude! This might be a trap!”

“Bye, sweetheart.” He pushed the door open and left. 

“Jenkins!” you called. “Alvin! Dude! Come back!”

Moments later, Alvin’s former cage slammed shut. 

You shivered on the floor, hugging your knees to your chest in the center of the cage. You began to count the minutes going by. You counted all the way up to twenty minutes before you heard a distant scream from a voice that sounded a lot like Alvin.

Not even an hour later, another woman was dragged unconscious into another cage next to you. You watched her carefully until she woke up.

“You alright?” you asked her once she’d gotten a glimpse of her surroundings.

She turned her head to you. “Are you (Y/N) (Y/L/N)?”

You furrowed your eyebrows at her. “Yeah…?”

“Your friends are looking for you.”

You laughed, relieved. “Thank god. Where are they?

“I, uh, I cuffed ‘em to my car,” the woman explained.

You sighed. 

Moments later, the door of the barn burst open. You couldn’t see who the figures were, but you backed up into the corner of your cage. Finally, Dean’s face came into view.

“(Y/N)?” 

You scrambled to your feet and grabbed onto the bars in front of him. “Dean!”

“Are you hurt?” Sam asked, looking you over.

You shook your head.

“Damn, it’s good to see you," Dean breathed out.

You smiled at him and ignored the way your heart fluttered in your chest.

“How did you get out of the cuffs?” the woman in the other cage asked.

The older brother turned toward her. “Oh, I know a trick or two. Alright. These locks look like they’re gonna be a bitch.” 

“Try that box over there,” you suggested, pointing to the control panel.

“Have you seen ‘em?”

“Yeah, dude, they’re just people.”

“And they jumped you? Must be gettin’ a little rusty there, sweetheart.” 

“Shut up, asshole.”

Sam walked over to the control panel and started trying different buttons. “What do they want?” 

You shrugged. “I don’t know. They let Jenkins go, but that was some sort of trap. It doesn’t make any sense to me.”

“Well, that’s the point. You know, with our usual playmates, there’s rules, there’s patterns. But with people, they’re just crazy,” Dean responded. He was still sizing up your cage, occasionally looking to the door to see if they’d been followed.

“See anything else out there?” you asked.

“Uh, he has about a dozen junked cars hidden out back. Plates from all over, so I’m thinkin’ when they take someone, they take their car, too.”

“Did you see a black Mustang out there? About ten years old?” the woman in the other cage asked.

“Yeah, actually, I did.”

She seemed sad.

“Your brother’s?” Sam asked her, looking upset when she nodded. “I’m sorry.”

“Let’s get you guys out of here, then we’ll take care of those bastards,” Dean jumped back in. “This thing takes a key. Key?”

You shook your head, and the brothers set off to find it.

“Guys?”

They turned back to you. 

“Be careful.”

Dean nodded and left with Sam.

***

You abandoned your jacket and looked over to the woman in the cage next to you. “You hurt? Your face is all scratched.”

She shrugged. “I’ve had worse.”

“I’m (Y/N), by the way.”

“Kathleen.”

“I’d shake your hand, but, uh—”

She laughed at your joke. 

“How’d you meet the guys?” you questioned after a moment’s silence.

“They came runnin’ up into my station. The pretty boy nicked an ID off another cop and was raving about some girl he needed to find. That was kinda my first hint that he wasn’t really a cop.”

Your stomach did a somersault. “He seemed worried about me?”

“Yeah, he did.”

“Huh.” A silence settled over the two of you before you spoke again. “You said you had a brother?”

Kathleen nodded. “Riley. Disappeared about ten years ago. I’ve been looking for him ever since.”

“I’m sorry,” you told her.

She didn’t answer. The two of you sat in silence again for quite some time until the door reopened. You could tell it wasn’t the two brothers, though. This man was wearing a hat and a puffer vest and inserted the key into the panel.

‘Fuck,’ you thought and grabbed at the bracket that had fallen to the ground. The door to your cage unlocked and you backed up against the far wall.

The man in the cap opened the door and aimed his gun straight at you. You threw the bracket at his gun, knocking it off-kilter, and used that opportunity to lunge at the man. You tackled him to the floor and began fighting with him for his gun. Shots rang out three times as he attempted to shoot you in the midst of the struggle.

“You son of a bitch, let go!” you screamed. You twisted your body to where your foot was on his throat and leveraged yourself that way. You pushed your foot in one direction and pulled the gun in the other, finally managing to get the gun away from him. You hit him with the but of the shotgun thrice in the head, knocking him out cold. You tried to fire the gun at him, but it didn’t work

“Fuck.”

You quickly took the key from the man on the floor and unlocked Kathleen’s cage. She helped you drag the unconscious man into the cage and relock him inside. You then smashed the control panel with the gun to disable it and keep the man locked inside. 

You heard footsteps approaching the barn and ducked behind a bale of hay. You hadn’t been able to see where Kathleen had gone, and held your breath when you heard the door open.

“Lee!”

‘Oh, that was his name.’

“Where are ya? Lee!” A rough voice called again. “Damn it, Jared, get the lights!” 

The barn stayed dark despite the switch you could hear being flipped.

“They must have blown the fuse,” a second male voice said.

You could hear the men running in separate directions; one clambering up the ladder and the other going in the opposite direction of your hiding place. You suddenly heard Kathleen grunting and fighting one of the men before hearing a gun cock.

“Hey!” you called, jumping up from your hiding spot. You ducked quickly when the man fighting Kathleen turned to shoot you. A voice behind you groaned in pain after you’d ducked and you ran over to Kathleen and the man she was fighting. You jumped on his back and began strangling him in the crook of your elbow. Kathleen wrestled the gun away from him while he fumbled through fighting you. 

“(Y/N), drop!” Kathleen told you, and you listened just before she hit the man with the but of the shotgun. He collapsed to the ground and the two of you turned your attention to the older man on the floor behind you. 

You dragged the man over to Kathleen’s cage and locked him inside. Out of breath from lugging his heavy body, you turned back to Kathleen who was aiming her gun at the older man on the ground.

“I’ll watch this one. You go ahead.” 

You stared at her, motionless.

“Go ahead,” she urged you.

You sprinted out of the barn, trying to make sense of your surroundings. You found nothing but trees, dirt, and old cars. “Motherfucker.” You then heard a snapping twig coming from the woods before you.

“Hey!” you yelled. “Come out, motherfucker!”

“Whoa, whoa, (Y/N), calm down,” Dean told you, appearing with Sam from behind you.

You breathed a sigh of relief. “Dean!” You threw yourself into his arms and squeezed tightly. He hesitated for a moment, but hugged you back strongly. You reveled in the feeling of his touch before forcing yourself to break away. You turned to Sam and hugged him, thanking the boys for coming to find you.

A gunshot sounded before Kathleen emerged from the barn. “Where’s the girl?”

“Locked her in a closet,” Dean chuckled. “What about the dad?”

“Shot. Trying to escape.” She looked uncomfortable, but you took her word for it.

Later after you’d said your goodbyes to Kathleen, the three of you were walking back to the police station to get the car.

Sam walked a little in front of you and Dean.

“Never do that again,” the older brother told you.

“Do what?”

Dean muttered, “Go missin’ like that.”

“Aw, look at you.” You playfully pinched his cheek. “You were worried about me.”

“All I’m sayin’ is, you vanish like that again, I’m not lookin’ for ya,” he grumbled.

You rolled your eyes. “Sure, you won’t.”

“I’m not.”

You giggled. “So, you got sidelined by a thirteen-year-old girl, huh?”

“Oh, shut up.”

“Just sayin’, gettin’ rusty there, sweetheart.”

“Shut up.”

Series Rewrite Taglist: @polireader @brightlilith @atcamillanorrman @jrizzelle @insomnia-bookworm @procrastination20 @mrs-liebgott @djs8891 @tiggytaylor @staple-your-mouth @iloveshawn @jesstherebel @rach5ive @strawberrykiwisdogog @bruhidkjustwannaread @mxltifxnd0m @sunshine-on-marz @big-ol-boat @mgchaser @capncrankle @davina-clairee @chervbs @simpingdeadcharacters @nesnejwritings @stillhere197 @stephshaww @tearsforhan @take-it-on-the-run @iloveyou2mia @maxinehufflepuffprincess @ohgeehowdigethere @here-for-the-extravaganza @seninjakitey @berarenado @s0urw00lf @princessleahorgana @quarterhorse19 @rei0812 @isla-finke-blog @silverdoragon @karacaroldanvers @gayandfairycore @examishbookwyrm

[betterinvienna]

Hello, I don't know if you are taking requests but I was wondering if you could make a female reader x Aki Hayakawa where they are both a couple (they have been dating for a while) and she moves in with him so she helps him deal with his roommates (including Nayuta because she is very cute) I don't know if I explained myself well, do what you want hahaha I only ask that it be fun and fluffy

pink cheeks and hot coffee | aki hayakawa x reader

synopsis: 8 months ago, in the cold Tokyo snow, you met him. Time-skip, and you're moving in with him, and meeting the people closest to him. Aki Hayakawa truly is a rom-com dream.

[ 2.8k words — fluff — no warnings ]

author's note:

uuuugh this took me a month to complete im so sorry to who requested this i've been infinitely busy :( changed some stuff up & left some key aspects of the request out, so let me know if you want me to continue this story rather than stop here. + not sure if this is ooc or not. fujimoto took my babies away from me so i havent seen their personality in forever dont beat me up pls

8 months ago, you met Aki Hayakawa in the café a block from your apartment. Having just moved to Tokyo, you needed something familiar – thankfully, cafés are essentially the same everywhere. He ordered his coffee black – and you only remembered because that’s weird, ew – and shot you two fleeting glances before awkwardly returning to staring out the window.

Ten minutes later, you saw him leave a nice sum of yen on the table, exiting the café with a ding as he pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his back pocket. Naturally, cigarettes repel you – secondhand smoke, ew again – but you shrugged and slid out of your booth, leaving the money necessary to cover your meal and then some, your shoes crunching the snow as you left the warm café. To be fair, you just wanted to test your luck – he’s cute and you like to talk. The worst he could do is start running in the opposite direction.

“Hi.” You breathed, cold fog punctuating your words.

He gave you a quizzical look, almost annoyed, even, and you chewed down on your bottom lip, regretting your bold choice already. He returned his gaze to his cigarette, flicking on the lighter and directing it to the end of the stick.

“Hello. Can I help you?”

“Right. Sorry. I noticed you –” You drew a blank. What’d you notice? Quick! Lie – he’s too cute. “Had the new Onitsukas. I like the, um, colorway. Black and grey. Suits your vibe.” You gesture to his black and grey Onitsuka Tigers, laced with matching black threads.

“Oh.” Confusion settled deeper into the man’s face, but a fresh pink tint decorated his cheeks. “Right.” He looked down, kicking some snow around and checking out his Tigers as if he forgot they were there. “Thank you.”

“I’m a big shoe fan myself, you know.” What a lie. You gave him a meek smile and kicked your Isabel Marants into the air for him to see. “The viral ones. Sold out everywhere. Couldn’t get them anywhere – well, except for one place. I stood in the rain for these.” Another lie. You ordered these online on a whim, because your best friend, Lou, said they’d look good on you and you were desperate for some new fashion options.

“Uh… okay,” His ears were red by now. Are you annoying him? Why did you think he cared about shoes? Get this guy’s number and get out of here. “That’s cool.”

You scratch your neck, running out of things to say. Ugh. Whatever. “I’m kind of new here. I was hoping I could get a friend or two, so, um…” you press your lips together, digging your phone out of your jacket’s pocket. His lips curled faintly upward when he saw your Sonny Angel glued to the back of your stickered phone case, but you handed him the overly decorated phone and pulled up the keypad screen anyway, hoping he got the gist.

Thankfully, he did. Aki snuffed the cigarette out under his shoe and sniffed through his frost-nipped, red nose. “Uh, I’m Aki. Aki Hayakawa.” He finally gave you a lopsided, awkward grin as he turned your phone back to you – with his number typed in it. Score! Cute guy’s number in your phone on just week 2 in Tokyo. Seems the ¥1.7k spent on YesStyle for this new-and-hip lip tint didn’t go to waste.

You nodded, smiling as you stared at the white numbers. By now, passersby were starting to notice your awkward exchange, but when have you ever been able to keep your mouth shut? “Thank you – I’ll text you. Also, why do you order your coffee black?”

—

aki my baby: I’m going to stop by the corner store before I come over to help you pack. Do you want anything?

You roll over on your bed and pick up your phone, checking out the notification. Behind it, a picture of you and your boyfriend, Aki, on a Ferris wheel. Aki is pictured with a downwards smile and a comically large corndog in hand, while you grin ear to ear, holding up a peace sign. It’s a beautiful picture, with all the night city lights in the back and your hair blowing just right in the high wind. You stare at your room, boxes vacant of any item when today is your move-in day. You should probably stop reminiscing and get on that.

You: no ty

aki my baby: ??? Are you sure?

aki my baby: [1 Attachment]

A picture of your favorite gummy bears. Okay, it looks like you forgot that. Aki: 1. You: 0.

You: omg

You: wait

You: yes those ones

You: thank u. i love u… ( ͒ ́ඉ .̫ ඉ ̀ ͒)...

aki my baby: I love you too. See you in a bit.

It’s been maybe two and a half years into your relationship with Aki Hayakawa, and you already have a vision board in your closet for the wedding. Well, no, not really, but now that the idea has come up… you’re seriously considering it.

Aki is like a dream-come-true, rom-com movie kind of boyfriend – that boy next door, best friend’s older brother vibe. He’s almost fake. Your life right now is what 13-year-old you watched through a screen, and you love that – and him. He knows your favorite flowers, favorite TV show, favorite movie, favorite book, all 20 of your favorite songs, which lyrics you like most out of each of them, and how many times you cried over losing your favorite hoodie – which he promptly found 2 hours later because he was there, front and center, to count all of the times you cried – making him the perfect boyfriend. To top off this quintessential boyfriend act, he – reluctantly – offered you a spot at his place, since you got tired of everything breaking down at yours.

However, there is one thing missing.

Aki had previously refused to let you meet his three friends – roommates? Siblings? Children? Whatever. All that you know of them is that they cause a ton of trouble for him.

You just brushed it off. I mean, who are you to request for even more of his personal life than however much you know right now? But… you’ve always been just a little curious. Anyone would want to show off their partner, right?

They sound interesting enough from the tales Aki tells you. He only spoke of them in passing: a peanut butter and jelly sandwich in the bathtub, sleeping on the toilet, roleplaying as a “queen” and her lowly subordinates, and an overwhelming number of dogs. You have to meet them. It’s a risible concept really – how’d he end up with them if he’s so… reserved? Then again, how’d he end up with you?

Di-i-uhh—thunk!

Oh. Right. The doorbell is broken too.

“I’m coming!” Two and a half years ago, the doorbell made the same, ugly “thunk” sound when Aki came to pick you up for the date – or hangout, whatever you wanna call it – that made you official, so you supposed it was alright to leave it broken. For memories.

It was on the rooftop of your apartment building, so you didn’t think anything special of it – until he started dropping indirect, heavy hints like “You’re so pretty… uh, you always have been,” followed up by “You’d be even prettier as my partner.” Well, the latter was mumbled under his breath, and you had to fill in the blanks, so you’re not 100% sure if you’re quoting it verbatim. Regardless, it was cute, he was – is – cute, and his personality is cute – which checks all of your boxes. So, you said yes. And in the end, the doorbell never got fixed. He asked you about it a couple of months ago, and instead of telling him the whole story, you just told him it was important that it was kept that way. He didn’t question you any further, because you started shoving this new recipe you found on Instagram into his mouth.

“Hi, baby,” This long, yet your stomach still flips at his every word.

“Hi,” By now, you’re practically cheesing. He steps aside and invites himself into the apartment he practically shares – well, now shared – with you.

“You haven’t packed?” Oh. Too busy eating chips and watching random re-runs of your favorite TV shows, but you won’t tell him that.

“What?” You look around, feigning innocence, and throw your hands up with a smile. “Sooooorry. I’ll get on it now. With you here, it’ll be super fast.” At this, Aki just smiled and shook his head, putting his house slippers on (I told you, he practically shared this apartment with you) and shuffled into your kitchen, leaning on the island.

“I talked to my, uh, roommates today.” He said, scratching the side of his neck.

Your eyes widen. “You’re just now telling them I’m moving in?”

Aki slid his tongue over his teeth and loosened his grip on the counter behind him, watching you. “Yeah. You know Denji – well, no, you don’t, not yet – but he’s been dying to meet you for a while now, and if I told him too early, he’d never shut up about you moving in until you did.”

You smiled at him, shoving some stuff into the boxes in your living room. “Denji sounds like more fun than you are,” you joked. “Are you gonna come and help me pack, or are you here to watch me do it?”

He sighed, walking over to the empty box adjacent to yours. “This is unpaid labor. Definitely illegal.”

“You came here, willingly.” You pointed out, then leaned over to give him a quick peck on the cheek. “There. I paid you. Totally legal.”

Aki points to his lips. “That’s minimum wage. I deserve a bonus, since I’m working last minute, don’t I?”

—

“That’s the last one.” Aki huffed and smoothed out his incredible slick back and stick-up ponytail, looking over at you in shorts, the huge t-shirt you stole from him, and slippers that are definitely overdue a replacement.

“I told you we should’ve hired movers.” You sneered and rolled your eyes, sweat lining your eyebrows as the hot sun poured onto the two of you. You hopped into the van's passenger seat, immediately pulling down the sunshade and basking in the coolness.

“You have every home decor item from every home decor store in every city in Japan and probably beyond in your house. I wasn’t anticipating that.” Aki reached down to put the car in reverse, backing out of the parking spot. “Plus, I did most of the heavy work.”

You rested your tilted head on your propped arm on the center console of the car, fighting back a giggle – not gonna give him the satisfaction of a joke that actually landed for once. “You’re so sassy.”

“You like it.”

“...Whatever.”

—

Before entering the complex, Aki gave you a stringent set of rules and a rather cohesive oral rundown of how your meeting with Denji and the others is going to go. The former was on a piece of paper, written in oddly legible chicken scratch. On the top, there was a directory of sorts of all 3 of his roommates, paired with rough doodles of their images. It read as follows:

NO screaming with Denji, Power, or Nayuta. Do NOT ask Nayuta about the dog’s personalities, names, ages, or any of the sort. Do NOT ask Power or Denji any questions. NO play-fighting, no sparring, no physical contact with ANY of the idiots roommates. Do NOT talk too much with them.

Yeah, sure. You’ll follow them, but sometimes… rules are suggestions. You’ve known Aki for over 3 years; anyone who keeps him company is your friend. Any friend of yours is treated with wholehearted love. So, it’ll be justified when you break the physical contact rule. A hug should be fine, right?

Walking up the stairs with Aki, he reminds you of the makeshift contract. “You don’t want to deal with Power especially. Trust me. It’s all in your best interest to adhere to it.”

You brushed him off with a wave of the hand. “Sure. I bet they’re the coolest ever and you’re just a huge grump.” He turned the knob for you, pushed the door open, and rolled his eyes, ushering you into the apartment where the three were gathered around the chabudai, playing cards.

“YES!” The red-horned one started screaming, slamming the cards down as the blonde started to grumble in discontent, mumbling something about cheating, fluidly mixed with an impressive string of profanities. It was obvious they had not recognized your presence, but the black-haired child did, neck craned, eyes burning a hole in your skull. Dogs surrounded her figure seated by the chabudai as she fed each one a bone-shaped treat. Surprisingly, they’re oddly well-behaved for such a numerous bunch. Wow. The prophecies are true.

You stood there awkwardly, looking up at Aki for help; however, he let go of your hand and shrugged, making his way to the kitchen to wash dishes that had a substance burned and caked onto them beyond repair.

“Hello,” your voice, although naturally loud, barely overpowered the even louder atmosphere, courtesy of the red-horned and the blonde – which, by the drawings on the paper, you presume are Power and Denji – prompting the black-haired child – Nayuta? – to roll her eyes and hit her hand on the low table to get their attention, gesturing to you. “They're here.”

The blonde – sorry – Denji’s jaw drops. Aki tugs an apron on, puts something in the oven, and completely ignores the event as if it happens daily. Does it happen every day? Power immediately jumps up from the table and hops over to you. “You’re Aki’s partner?” She says, mildly judgmental.

You nod, beaming. Forget the rules, she’s adorable! “You’re literally so cute! Are your horns real?” You reach to touch them, and she slightly maneuvers her head to make it easier for you.

“Yeah. But don’t get any ideas,” she says, seemingly sizing you up. “Just ‘cause you’re moving in doesn’t mean you get to call the shots. I still do.” Power says, pushing her proud chest out.

You laugh, feeling tears prickle your waterline… from fear, or is she just funny? Okay, this one is the queen in that “queen and her lowly subordinates” game. You hear Aki reprimand her from the kitchen, and she answers with an annoyed “What?”

Denji sighed, pushing Power aside with one arm, prompting a grunt and a sudden dive of her head, mouth open and clearly aimed to snatch off the skin of Denji’s forearm. However, the fiasco is immediately stopped by a stern “Hey!” from Aki.

“Sorry about her,” Denji sighs. “She doesn’t know how to act.” He rolls his eyes and then sticks out a hand for you to shake. What a gentleman! Aki must’ve been exaggerating in those horror stories about him. You take his hand, nodding and saying hello.

It’s sticky.

His hand is… tacky. You blink once, twice, and one more time before tightening all of your facial features and retracting your hand with extraordinary quickness, clenching your hand in your t-shirt. “Your hand,” you breathe out. “It’s, um,”

“Oh. Sticky? No big deal.” Denji laughs from his stomach. “But uhh, I don’t know where from. Probably like, from cleaning up after Nayuta’s dogs.”

You look over at Aki once again. He’s got oven mitts on and sharp flour on the part of his apron that meets the counter.

He shrugs.

—

You flop down on the bed, exhausted with a raw hand – from scrubbing off every trace of … whatever … that could’ve been left on your hand.

“Are you okay?” Aki walks in, wet-haired and with a towel wrapped around his waist. He eyes your figure splayed out across the bed, with a telling look that screams “I told you so”. He gets dressed, climbs into the bed, and lets you rest your head on his chest. “Well,” he starts, but you shoot him an annoyed look, so he pushes his lower lip up in a cartoonish frown and stays silent.

“I like them,” you finally say, after 10 minutes of deafening silence, punctuated by a snore coming from a neighboring room. It seems the others are asleep. “They’re cool. Fun.” Okay – optimistic much? Your cup is half full, not half empty.

Aki laughs at you, kissing you on the head and pulling the covers up. “Okay,” is all he says, but you could tell he still wanted to declare himself right. “You’re staying?” He asks, an eyebrow up under his wet bangs.

Today, you indirectly touched dried dog urine – question mark? –, got threatened by a loud red-horned girl, and walked into what is practically a dog shelter.

You nod, sighing. “Yes, I’m staying.” You look up at him, a smile on his face, one he was very obviously trying to fight earlier. “Quit smiling. It takes a lot to deter me, so I’ll stay. I like them.”

“I’ll stop smiling if you kiss me.”

“Go to sleep.”

[bookloover35]

Silent Shadows- Mark Hoffman x fem reader.

Mark Hoffman kept to the shadows as he always did, his expression carved from stone. The precinct buzzed with the usual chaos—officers scrambling to answer calls, detectives hunched over their desks deciphering cases. But his eyes were locked on one figure.

You.

It wasn't just your sharp mind or your unshakable confidence that had drawn him in. It was the flicker of darkness in your gaze, the barely concealed edge that told him you weren't like the others. You weren't bound by the same moral code. You understood him.

And now, you carried his child.

The first time you and Hoffman crossed paths, it was during a case that left your entire department on edge. A series of gruesome murders had rocked the city, the work of an unrelenting mastermind. You had watched Hoffman as he worked, the way his jaw clenched when someone got too close to the truth, the subtle smirk when they didn't.

It wasn't long before you began piecing things together. Hoffman wasn't just hunting Jigsaw. He was Jigsaw—or at least, his protégé. You could've turned him in. But you didn't.

Because deep down, you knew the law wasn't enough.

"You're not like the others," he'd said to you one night after everyone else had gone home, his voice low, eyes searching yours.

"Neither are you," you'd replied, your lips curving into a smile that matched his.

Now, months later, your secret relationship was a web of lies and stolen moments. The knowledge of your shared insanity bound you together in a way nothing else could. You worked cases during the day, keeping up the façade of dutiful cops, only to retreat into the darkness at night.

But the pregnancy had changed things.

You hadn't planned for this—neither of you had. Yet, when you told him, his reaction had surprised you. Hoffman wasn't a man who wore his emotions openly, but in that moment, you saw something flicker in his eyes: possessiveness.

"Nobody can know," he'd said, his hand resting on your stomach protectively. "They'd tear us apart. They'd never understand."

You had agreed. After all, wasn't that the truth? No one would understand the twisted bond you shared, the lengths you'd both go to protect each other.

Your relationship grew even more dangerous as your pregnancy progressed. Late nights spent planning how to cover your tracks, crafting alibis, and ensuring that your coworkers remained oblivious. The tension only fueled the fire between you, every glance across the precinct charged with an electricity that only you two could feel.

And then came the moment you couldn't avoid.

A lead in one of your cases—a murder that Hoffman himself had orchestrated—brought the precinct uncomfortably close to the truth. You found yourself paired with another detective, a rookie too eager for his own good, as you combed through evidence that you knew would implicate Hoffman if you weren't careful.

"What do you think of Hoffman?" the rookie asked, his tone casual but his eyes sharp.

You froze for half a second before forcing a smirk. "He's a good cop. Knows his stuff. Why?"

The rookie shrugged. "Just seems... I don't know. Like there's more to him than he lets on."

Your grip tightened on your pen. "You should focus on what's in front of you, not conspiracy theories."

That night, you told Hoffman about the rookie, your voice low but urgent.

"He's sniffing around," you said. "If he gets too close..."

Hoffman didn't hesitate. "I'll handle it."

There was no question about what that meant.

The rookie's disappearance was chalked up to bad luck, another casualty of the city's rising crime rate. You couldn't deny the thrill it gave you, knowing you were part of something so powerful, so untouchable.

But as your due date approached, you began to wonder how long you could keep this up. How long before someone put the pieces together? How long before the life you were building came crashing down?

Hoffman seemed to sense your unease. One night, as you lay tangled together in the dim light of his apartment, he pressed a hand to your stomach and said, "We'll protect them. No matter what."

You believed him.

The birth of your child was both a moment of pure joy and a reminder of the stakes. A boy, with his father's sharp features and your defiant spirit. You and Hoffman took turns staying home with him, crafting excuses for your absences at work, weaving your double lives even tighter.

The darkness in both of you hadn't dimmed—it had only grown. Now, it wasn't just about survival. It was about creating a world where your son could thrive, free from the constraints of laws and systems that had failed you both.

Together, you and Hoffman were unstoppable. Partners in crime. Lovers. Parents.

And no one would ever tear that apart.

[redflagshipwriter]

Nest Swap 6

masterpost

Mrs. Henderson was a lot friendlier with that explanation. He was grateful because that gave him a little space to think about escape plans. “You’re lucky I was here at all,” Mrs. Henderson chattered. “Goodness knows I’ll be out of town soon. My grandson is getting married this weekend, down in that shithole Metropolis.” She shut the window that he’d come in through, which looked a little difficult with her mace wedged in her armpit. 

It would probably be really nice if her walker had a ledge for storage on it, Tim thought. He let his eyes glaze over a little bit as he imagined how he would design it. He ended up following the retiree through her house to the wall that he knew connected with the other apartment. The door stuck out because it kind of looked like an outside door: sturdier than a door usually needs to be inside.

Mrs. Henderson optimistically tried the door that internally connected the duplex. It rattled a rejection. “He never used to keep this locked,” she lamented. She gave up with a sigh and put her mace back on the display case a few feet away. 

Tim hummed and bounced on his heels. He thought that made sense. If Jason wanted the neighbor man investigated, he probably had stuff to hide. Tim would lock out his neighbor, too. 

“That's too bad,” Tim lamented. He clasped his hands behind his back. “I guess I'll go back to my Mom.”

“Oh, nonsense.”

Tim froze. Mrs. Henderson started walking to her kitchen. . Her long robe dragged behind her about an inch on cold hardwood floors. “You can wait for a while with me.”

Oh. Oh, this wasn’t great.

On the one hand, he would get to see the sausage man if Mrs. Henderson let him wait with her. On the other hand, he was going to know that Tim had lied about being a relative, and he would probably say so.

Tim followed Mrs. Henderson a bit woodenly and climbed up onto the stool on autopilot as she leaned over to the sink. Heck. What did he do? He searched his mind for a reference he could rely on. He had nothing.

‘I’m not a very good vigilante,’ Tim thought sadly. He kicked his feet against the bars of the stool and then suddenly stopped when Mrs. Henderson glanced over at him. She flicked the red light on on her kettle. ‘I should have watched more spy movies.’

He made a silent promise to himself to study before he went into action again. He didn’t know how he was going to get out of this, but once he did, he was going to learn from it. A few minutes passed before Mrs. Henderson poured the hot water into mugs and then stirred something.

“Do you like marshmallows?” 

Tim blinked. Like, merengue? “I have sophisticated tastes,” he answered on autopilot. Then he wondered why she’d asked.

She laughed. “Me too.” She opened a bag and dumped a pile of sweets into the tea.

His brain shut down a little at the audacious display of dietary recklessness. “Thank you,” he said, and accepted the mug with both hands. He peered down and breathed in the sweet steam.

It was weirdly dark tea. And- really, really sweet-smelling. He sniffed it cautiously and then took a look at his hostess. 

“It’s hot,” she warned, and then took a cautious sip of her own.

Tim copied her out of well-bred reflex and instantly coughed. It was thick. Why was it thick? “What kind of tea is this?” His voice squeaked up high.

Mrs. Henderson snorted brown liquid out her nose and then cried out in pain. Tim startled but she kept laughing, hand pressed over her face.

“... It's not tea,” Tim said. He took another suspicious taste. Now that he wasn't expecting something else, he could identify chocolate. “Wow. My mom wouldn't give this to me.” He slurped up a marshmallow. Then he froze because Mrs. Henderson had put a hand over the top of his cup. 

“Do you have allergies?” Her dark eyes were serious underneath her eyeglasses. 

“Prawns,” Tim supplied. “That's all.” 

Mrs. Henderson took her hand away. “Ah. There's no prawns in there, so….” She pursed her lips. “Well, I was a scout when I was your age. I have to peddle sweets to show my pride.” 

“You what?” Tim leaned a little closer. 

She blinked at him and then took another sip of her chocolate. “You know, scouts? They sell cookies?” 

Wow. Tim hid his reaction to that. Were things really that bad in public schools? She'd been working at 9? That was brutal and unjust. Tim worried his lip between his teeth for a few moments before he decided that he really did have to say something.

“That seems unjust,” he said. Tim worried that it was a little rude to say so, but he didn't want people to think he approved of child labor.

She choked on her chocolate again.

A car door slammed on the other side of the building. When his hostess cleared her throat, there were tears in her eyes. She patted at Tim's hand. “You can come back anytime you want, honey,” she said, in a funny voice. “Your Uncle is home! That was his door. I'll walk you around.” 

Tim stood up. “No, I'm fine!” He chirped. His heart thudded in his chest. “Thank you so much!” He went to the door a lot faster than she could, pulled it open, and then felt bad. “The drink was really good,” he added, and then he hopped out and shut the door behind him.

“Oh. Hello.” A middle-aged man stood on the sidewalk outside of the duplex. He had a huge duffle bag over his shoulder and he was sort of leaning as if it was heavy. He eyed Tim and Mrs. Henderson’s door with a sort of sharp, calculating expression. “...Visiting my neighbor?”

Ah. His stomach wrenched.

Tim flashed a gala-ready smile up at the sausage guy, deploying maximum cuteness. “Yepp!” He chirped. “I’m her grandson.”

‘Don’t be suspicious,’ he chanted internally. ‘Don’t be suspicious, don’t be suspicious.’

Sausage man frowned a little. “...Not the one who is getting married?” he asked in a funny voice. “I thought she only had the one.” He eyed Tim a little harder. “And, not to be rude, but i would have assumed he’d also be Black.”

Oh. Heck. Jason’s bad guy was definitely getting suspicious of him. He needed to deflect, fast.

“I was joking!” Tim giggled. “You’re funny. No, I’m a scout selling cookies.” He straightened his posture to look like a child with stable employment. “Do you want some?”

“...Cookies?” he clarified. “Not popcorn?” 

“Definitely cookies,” said Tim, who had just learnt this fact today. “It’s okay, it’s confusing.”

Sausage man cocked his head to the side, opened his mouth, and then apparently thought better of whatever he’d been about to say. “Yes, actually, I love those cookies.” The man readjusted his duffle bag. “Do you have an order form?” He held out a hand expectantly.

Tim eyed it and resisted the urge to fling himself off the two concrete steps separating him from the lawn. “Not with me,” he bluffed. “What kind do you want?”

“You’re not going to just remember my order,” said the Sausage man, who was beginning to look genuinely irritated. He took a half a step closer. His heavy bag swung. Tim stole a glance down at it. Sausage man followed his gaze and then looked back at Tim. He narrowed his eyes and he smiled.

It did not feel like a nice smile. 

“Why don’t you come in?” he said, and put a hand on Tim’s shoulder. “No one is waiting for you, right?”

“My boyfriend is,” Tim lied immediately. It was kind of true. 

Sausage man snorted, because he didn’t know that Jason was going to kick his ass. “That’s probably alright,” he said, amused. He squeezed down on Tim’s shoulder a little. Tim tensed. He needed help, he needed an adult-

“There’s my mom!” Tim chirped. The man let go like he thought Tim was on fire. Tim took advantage of the moment and ducked under the Sausage man’s arm. His heart was pounding so hard. “I’ll see you later, bye!” He sprinted down the walkway and turned left onto the real sidewalk without slowing down. 

Haha, sucker. Janet wasn’t even there! And the guy just believed him when he said he saw his Mom? Ridiculous! She was probably in Peru or in a board meeting! He pumped his arms a little harder until he realized that he wasn’t being chased.

The sausage man didn’t chase after him or call out. When Tim stole a look backwards, he saw the door pulling shut.

“Whew,” said Tim, slowing down. “That went okay. Except I didn’t learn anything.”

…He could try again tomorrow.

[foulfeast]

Need to organize today but some thoughts on Bitchmare vs ou/tlast characters (first game with the assumption that they would be at mount massive)

Spacing for character names bc meh i dont wanny this in the main tags 😅

M I L E S U P S H U R / W A Y L O N P A R K

Realistically would literally be chill as fuck. The gameplay makes them out to be very avoidant, and at worst Bitchmare would come around sniffing them, and leave them be when they get no response. Park is much more lost & confused and Bitchmare might develop a strong care instinct, though.

However if I think about them as an enemy variant for funsies, one of them could be mistaken to show agression towards Puppy (their baby/wolfskull) and trigger the typical mama bear instinct: maul.

Cont under cut

G E N E R A L P A T I E N T S

Most likely to treat them like stray cats? Pspsps-ing them, feeding them. A lot of them would probably be scared. Honestly I don't think its out of realm of reality that if a patient was open to being cradled and cared for they would just start guarding that person. Mostly I think people would just run from the gangly slendermanlike figure crawling over furniature, though. Agressive ones would get put in time out. You can try to imagine what that is urself.

F A T H E R M A R T I N

Now this is actually really interesting since Bitchmare does have some Virgin Mary theming. If he had some previous info on Bitchmare & was open to pool their collective delusions, there could be something weird there. Bitchmare themself would probably treat him w some reverence too: he's calm, vunerable, he's bringing people together.. it's very possible that Bitchmare would straight up listen to him and fulfill his requests. They are headstrong, but they're just as lost as most of the patients. I don't think religion would be a draw for Bitchmare, EXCEPT if Martin was truly treating them as an immaculate mother, as it would validate them a lot. That they would lean into for shore.

T H E T W I N S

Oh my god i think instant baby. Big grotesque hunters. Bitchmare is treating them like juveline wolves learning to hunt. They're more... lucid than Bitchmare, and their interactions would really depend on how they react to them. If allowed, Bitchmare would be licking their heads clean and dragging them ... stuff to eat. Out of all characters they could also pose Bitchmare the greatest threat, let them get close and ambush. But honestly I think it would be poetically a delight to Bitchmare too. They would see it as some kind of beautiful matriphagy cycle.

C H R I S W A L K E R

An another one that would be a genuine threat to Bitchmare- the problem being that Walker just has such a strong mission and would not be able to chill w the killing. If that wasn't the case, Bitchmare would even probably have a positive, pack like approach to him- he's stong, big, why not make friends? However, it would be best if these two just straight up avoided eachother, Walker would kill them but get mauled in the process.

R I C H A R D T R A G E R

Genuinely kinda unsure what tf would happen here. Ricky could probably manipulate them? But also Bitchmare wouldn't love his lil clinic? They would immediately get attached to the babies (victims). Im unsure. Worst case scenario IS him being able to turn Bitchmare into some kind of guard dog. Pretend that Puppy is sick and offer help in extange for help? I dont wanna think about it they would be such a destructive combo. Smth smth abt how capitalism takes advantage of parents? Anyways on the other hand i think in a fight Bitchmare could take him so gbless

Comes down to- they're not really that agressive, in fact they seek social interaction very actively ! Just don't touch their baby or express any threating behaviour towards it.

[bananaguyboi]

[[ SNEAK PEEK ]]

Yep, yep, just- yeah-

Suffers-

Idk even know what to say other than yeah- This is the part where I spend an unnecessary amount of time detailing the damn room, and movements lmao.

( Took me 1-2 hours? Maybe even 3- )

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

Tang Bo opened the door, and entered his bedroom.

He expected his room to be covered with cobwebs, and dusted furniture, However, to his surprise, his eyes was greeted by how perfectly polished the room is. Everything was tailored with beautiful, and organized furniture, his desk was glimmering spotlessly, his bed mattress looked as new, and the corners of his room had a sparkling vase with a fresh white tulips that he never even placed.

Tang Bo whistled, and observed the room.

Compared to the last he had seen it, which was littered with crumpled papers, neglected books, and wasted poisons. This looked freshly made, as if someone was taking care of it.

Tang Bo trudge his way in middle of the room, and noticed a large painting hanging above his bed.

The painting was eye-catching.

A man of grandeur, wearing a perfectly tailored black outfit with a green robe draped over him. His chestnut hair with a few grey strands, tied in a bun with a hairpin. The man wore extravagant jewelries around his neck, and golden bracelet on his wrist.

The painting of the man was familiar yet he wasn't.

It was a portrait of the Dark Saint of the Tang Family.

Tang Bo tilted his head.

Who would go so far for someone like him?

From what he remembered, he was hated, and feared by his entire family due to his "lack of discipline" or whatever they call it, so he was sure that he'd be forgotten out of disrespect.

He even had a back-up plan in case that if his room now entirely belongs to another higher-up person from the Tang Family, but he never could have expected this.

Tang Bo shook his head, and spotted something.

'Kkiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii' the marten left Tang Bo's shoulder, and scurry it's way to a desk with a lantern.

It sniffed something, and burried its head to the drawers.

It held a hair pin up in the hair, continuesly sniffing

Tang bo's eyes went blank.

A pink hair pin.

Tang Bo pursed his lips.

He made his way to the cabinet, and snatched the pin away from the marten.

The marten frowned, "..Kkiiii....."

"It's not for you to play"

"Kliiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii !" The Marten stomped its foot at Tang Bo, but he simply ignored it.

He gently held the hair pin and observed it. The item was still polished, and gleaming. Tang Bo's eyes flickered.

'Why is it here?'

From what he remembered, he died while wearing it.

It was simply impossible for someone to recover it.

Unless..

...

Tang Bo closed his eyes shut, and gripped the hair pin.

Maybe dying first was a blessing.

So, that he wouldn't have to witness his death.

He lowered his eyelid, and impassively stared at the item he is holding.

He could imagine Chung Myung hitting him in the head, and cursing him.

With a huge sigh, Tang Bo used the pink hair pin, and tied half of his hair to a bun.

He walked his way to the drawers, and haphazardly rummaged his hands through his stuff.

"The Ginseng root is in here somewhere...."

Shuffle, shuffle.

"Not this."

Shuffle, Shuffle.

"Nope, not this either.."

Shuffle..

'?'

Tang Bo paused as he saw the coffer. "There you are" he whispered with a grin.

He opened the lid with gleaming eyes, but soon stopped, and stared intently at the insides of the coffer.

One..

One ginseng root..

Only one left..?

...

HUUUHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH????????????????????????

WASN'T THERE SUPPOSED TO BE TEN OF THEM?

Tang Bo's face contorted. One?

one.

ONE.

O N E !

This would take him a whole YEAR for him to be cured!

"WHO ATE MY GINSENG ROOT!" He fiercely slammed the coffer to the ground.

His head swiftly shifted to the door. "THOSE TANG BASTARDS-"

Fucking..- alright, let's calm down..

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hope that I atleast portray the comedy, and the kind of sad scenes in a decent way hehe.

Also yeah- It's a bit fast paced as usual lmao- might need to fix that

[charliedawn]

The Last Neighbor

Joel had never been known for his good actions. Quite the opposite, actually. If there was a Guinness World Record for being an asshole, he’d probably hold the title. Self-preservation was his only concern; if someone got in his way, he’d shoot first and forget their name second. He could shoot a human being straight through his skull just for another day of living. Actually, he already had—on more than one occasion. So, when he was jolted awake in the dead of night by loud banging outside, his reflexes kicked in immediately. He grabbed his rifle, ready to confront whatever or whoever had dared wake him up.

But, he wasn’t ready for the show waiting for him outside. He saw a young woman standing there with a cardboard box in her hands, her face breaking into a startled smile when she saw him. Then her eyes landed on the rifle, and her smile dropped.

"Don’t shoot ! Please ! I am not infected !", she called out, raising her hands halfway—as far as the cardboard box still in her arms would allow her to.

Joel groaned, leveling the rifle at her.

"Hands where I can see ‘em !"

She was quick to comply—almost dropping the cardboard box on his doorstep in her haste to raise her hands up. He looked her up and down.

"Weapons ?" He asked shortly and she nodded.

"Knife and gun. For the infected." She didn’t wait for his command, slowly lowering the items onto the ground before standing back up, her hands raised high once more. "I mean no harm. My name is Lace and—"

"What the hell you doing here ?", he interrupted, not interested in small talk. Lace winced, nudging the box slightly with her foot.

"Hum…Well, I saw that you had just moved in from the house across the street and I decided to drop a few essentials—in case you were running out. Food, medicine and water bottles. Stuff like that."

Joel’s eyes widened a little—momentarily glancing at the box—before they narrowed suspiciously and returned on the young woman. "What do you want ?"

Lace blinked, genuinely taken aback. "W-What ? Nothing."

He glared at her.

"Do not bullshit me. Why would ya come and bring me stuff if you didn’t want somethin’ ?"

Her mouth opened, then closed before she shrugged nervously.

"…Because it was the neighbourly thing to do ?" She offered—her eyes still fixed on his rifle in case he decided to shoot. "Hum…Could you please lower the rifle ? My arms are getting tired…"

He scoffed.

"What’s tellin’ me ya ain’t got no bomb in there or poison ?" He gestured towards the box. She sighed and grabbed an apple from the box before taking a bite of it.

"See ? Perfectly fine. Hmm. Juicy." She then threw the apple at Joel who barely managed to grab it with one hand. He still seemed suspicious and sniffed the apple before giving her a long side eye—waiting a few seconds before taking a bite too. He chewed slowly—his eyes not leaving hers for a second before he swallowed. He waited to see if he felt any dizziness or discomfort—but he felt nothing. He took another bite. Then another. Then another—until the apple was gone.

When he finished, she gave him an expectant smile. "Good ?"

Joel didn’t answer and she sighed again.

"Well…Could you at least stop pointing that rifle at me ?"

He scoffed and seemed to think about it for a moment before slowly lowering his rifle. He then carefully approached to take a look inside the box and at its contents. There were water bottles, various food products and cans, as well as medical supplies. Once he had scanned everything, his eyes returned on you.

"…Why you givin’ me all this ?"

She smiled again and shrugged.

"Like I said, neighbourly thing to do."

He scoffed, but didn’t say anything.

"Well anyway…It was nice meeting you, neighbour. Hope you’ll stick around." She said and then walked back towards her house. Joel’s eyes followed her before he scoffed again and muttered under his breath.

"Crazy woman…"

He took the box and slammed the door behind him.

A few days later:

When Joel opened his front door, prepared to go on a supply run, he stopped short. A freshly baked pie sat on his porch. He didn’t need to look far to know who had left it.

He looked up at the house opposite his and sure enough, he caught Lace peeking through a window. She smiled and waved when he noticed her. Joel sighed, rolling his eyes as he reached down, grabbing the pie, and closing the door behind him.

Maybe he’d stay a few more days...especially if she kept feeding him…

…….

Another week passed by and Joel had now received pies, pizzas, cakes, cookies, casseroles and many tupperwares filled with homemade meals. His kitchen was now a pile of plates, containers and other things she had decided to leave on his porch. He knew he should probably get rid of them—bring them back to her. But for some reason, he felt as if that would be losing some kind of war he had no intention of losing…

Finally, one morning, he opened his door only to come face-to-face with Lace herself, a paper plate held out in front of her. For a moment, they stared at each other in surprise—neither spoke. He looked down and sure enough…here was another plate of food. This time—it was on a paper plate. Looks like she had ran out of the good ones…Lace seemed frozen before she wordlessly extended the plate forward. "Uh…lasagna ?" she managed, her voice uncertain. "Made it myself."

He looked down and instead of accepting, he asked.

"How’re you cooking without an oven ?"

Her smile turned sheepish. "Wood-fired. I make a small fire in my yard…cook what I can." She shrugged.

Joel stared at her, the plate of lasagna between them, and let out a long sigh. Right. He finally accepted the plate and returned inside his house…He didn’t close the door, but she didn’t dare come in. She returned to her home and Joel forgot to mention the containers he had yet succeeded in giving back to her.

A few days later:

Joel eventually invited Lace inside—not that he’d admit it was an invitation. More like she showed up with another meal and he’d grumbled, "If you’re gonna bring all this damn food, might as well sit down." She took it as a warm welcome and walked in, balancing a tray of chicken stew and cornbread.

The silence was heavy as they sat across from each other at his small kitchen table, the stew steaming between them. Joel shifted, watching her with his usual suspicion.

"So," she started, looking around at the scattered dishes she’d left over the past few days, "enjoying my cooking ?"

He scoffed. "Edible." It’s not like he waited for her to bring him something good everyday or that he looked forward to it even.

A laugh escaped her, bright and unrestrained. Joel just looked at her, one brow raised as if to say, ‘What’s so funny ?’ She shook her head, taking a bite of stew.

"Well, I’m just guessing that that’s high praise, coming from you. Since you seem like the silent type of guy." She took another spoonful, and they lapsed back into silence. Joel watched her, his gaze unreadable, until Lace finally couldn’t help herself.

"Do you…I mean, have you been alone for a long time ?" she asked carefully.

He tensed, eyes darkening and immediately replied defensively. "Why do you care ?"

She shrugged and smiled nervously. "I just wonder sometimes, y’know ? The things people have been through."

Joel huffed, his jaw tightening. "People’ve all got their sob stories. Doesn’t make ’em special."

Lace nodded slowly, respecting his reticence but unable to hide her curiosity. "Fair enough." She set her spoon down, glancing at him. "But it doesn’t mean you have to go through it alone either."

He looked up, an edge of surprise crossing his face, but he quickly masked it, pushing his chair back and standing up. Lace watched as he moved to the sink, his shoulders tense as he washed his dish. After a long pause, he finally spoke, his tone gruff.

"So what’s your story, then ? Why waste your time cooking for people who don’t care ?"

She didn’t seem fazed by the harshness of his words. Instead, she met his gaze and smiled, a touch sadder than her usual one. "Guess it’s just nice to feel…useful. It’s rare to even find a neighbor these days, much less one that doesn’t try to rob you."

Joel snorted, almost amused. "Lucky me, huh ?"

She smiled and nodded.

"Lucky you indeed…"

….

Days turned to weeks, and their cautious alliance became a part of their daily routine. Joel didn’t question when she left supplies or when she knocked and said, "Dinner’s ready." He’d just grunt, maybe crack a rare smile that looked more like a grimace. And she’d laugh every time, knowing it was the closest he’d ever come to gratitude.

One evening, as they sat on the porch after dark, sharing the last of the coffee she’d bartered for at a nearby settlement, Lace leaned back, gazing at the moon. It cast a soft light over the deserted houses, making the street look almost peaceful.

"You ever think there might be…you know…more than this ?", she asked, her voice quiet.

Joel shrugged. "This is all there is. Survive another day. That’s the job."

She tilted her head, studying him. "And what happens when there’s no one left to survive for ?"

For a moment, he couldn’t answer. The question hung heavy in the air, gnawing at the walls he’d built around himself. He turned away, jaw clenched. "Survival’s a habit. Doesn’t matter what’s waiting at the end."

She gave a soft, understanding smile, sensing he wasn’t ready for that conversation. Not yet.

"Well," she said, breaking the silence, "if you ever want to talk, you know where to find me."

He looked at her and hummed.

"Right…Thanks, Lace."

She smiled. It was the first time he had ever called her by her name…

But in the apocalypse, peace is always short-lived. Just a few days later, Lace’s house was dark, and she didn’t show up with any new dishes or supplies. Joel tried not to notice. He told himself it wasn’t his business, that she could take care of herself. But after a few hours, he started to feel that old itch of worry. He waited until nightfall, slinging his rifle over his shoulder, before he crossed the street, heading toward her house. The front door was unlocked, creaking open with the slightest push.

Inside, the place was deserted. No sign of struggle, but no sign of her either. Joel’s jaw tightened. He checked each room, feeling a chill settle in his gut as he found only silence. Finally, in her kitchen, he spotted a note left hastily on the table:

Ran low on supplies. Be back soon. Don’t miss me too much.

He couldn’t help but roll his eyes, despite the knot of worry tightening in his chest. Damn idiot, he thought. Without a second thought, he headed out into the night, rifle at the ready.

…He was gonna kill that idiot if not someone had already.

Meanwhile, Lace had entered into a store and discreetly sought out for supplies. She smiled as she found more than a few cans and even a dozen water bottles.

"Well well…Lucky me."

She started stocking up when suddenly, she felt a presence behind her. She was about to get her gun out when she recognised the familiar feeling of the sharp edge of a knife against her throat.

"Wait wait wait…Please. You don’t have to do this." She pleaded—genuinely scared. The grip on her tightened, the blade pressing just enough against her skin to remind her of the threat on her life. She took a steadying breath, hoping she sounded calm.

"Please," she repeated, barely above a whisper. "I don’t have anything you want. Just let me go."

A rough chuckle sounded close to her ear. "That so ? All those cans say otherwise." The pressure from the knife eased just a fraction, but his hold on her remained firm. "Not every day I see someone alone. And a woman, no less. I bet you’d be worth a fortune if I were to sell you…"

There was a young man with him who didn’t seem as comfortable as his partner.

"Come on, Barry. We should just take the cand and go…"

But Barry groaned.

"Mind your own business, kid !"

Lace forced herself not to move. "Look, we can share. I don’t need all of it." She nodded toward the cans in her arms. "Take what you want. Just…leave me enough to take back home. We’re two and we are just trying to survive—like you."

"Home ?" Barry laughed again, low and cold. "No one’s got a home anymore, sweetheart." The knife stayed close, but she felt his grip shift, loosening ever so slightly.

She seized the moment. Dropping her supplies to the floor with a loud clang, Lace twisted out of his hold, spinning to face him as she backed up, pulling her own knife and holding it defensively in front of her. Her heart pounded, but her hand remained steady.

The man sneered, amused at her sudden boldness. "What you gonna do now, huh ? Stab me ? You ain’t got that nerve, girl. I can see it in your eyes."

"Look, I don’t want any trouble." She raised her chin, keeping her voice steady. "But if you force me, I’ll defend myself."

He tilted his head, appraising her, but his expression grew dark. "Think you can take me ?" He took a menacing step forward.

Before he could close the distance, a sudden loud bang echoed from behind him. His sneer turned into confusion as he staggered, reaching for the back of his head, his legs buckling beneath him as he fell to the floor—blood gushing out the bullet wound now in his back. Lace saw the shadowy figure looming just beyond him, rifle in hand. Joel.

"Guess she doesn’t have to," Joel drawled, lowering his rifle.

The young man took a few cans and ran out fast before Joel could stop him and he groaned. His gaze shifted to Lace, eyes dark with anger. "You, You should have asked me to come with you."

Lace took a shaky breath, trying to process what had just happened. "How did you find me ?"

Joel crossed his arms, unimpressed. "Followed your trail. You’re not exactly subtle."

She managed a small, wry smile. "Wasn’t expecting a stalker."

He ignored her attempt at humor, stepping forward and nudging the dead man with his boot. "This one won’t bother you again," he muttered, though his eyes stayed on Lace, his expression hard.

"Joel…" she began, wanting to thank him, but he shook his head.

"Save it." His voice was gruff. "Just…be smarter next time." His gaze softened just a fraction. "There are worse things out here than an empty stomach."

She nodded, still clutching her knife. "I know."

He sighed, glancing at the scattered cans on the floor before picking them up. "Come on," he said. "Let’s get you home."

She followed him with her head hanging low in shame. But she then opened her mouth to ask: "I still managed to get more than my fair share of cans. What would you like for dinner ? I could make some risotto with what I got or…?"

Joel didn’t respond at first, just kept walking, his eyes scanning their surroundings as he led her back toward the safe zone. Lace bit her lip, starting to think he’d ignore her altogether. But after a few moments, he muttered, "Risotto, huh ? Fancy for the apocalypse."

She smiled, a little relieved he’d answered. "Hey, even the end of the world deserves a good meal every now and then. I’ll make it worth your while."

Joel scoffed, though she caught the slight softening at the corners of his mouth. "Long as it’s edible."

They walked the rest of the way in silence until they reached her doorstep. Joel glanced at the supplies she held and then at her, his expression unreadable. "Just…be careful next time," he said, his voice softer than she expected. "You won’t always get this lucky."

She nodded, still feeling a hint of guilt. "I know. Thanks again, Joel."

He shrugged, averting his gaze. "Get inside. I’ll come by later to check if that ‘risotto’ of yours is any good."

With that, he turned and started to leave, but not before she called after him, a spark of hope in her voice. "Bring your appetite !"

…She almost facepalmed herself.

He didn’t look back, but she could’ve sworn she saw his shoulders relax as he walked away.

[maxwell-grant]

Playing Princess Peach: Showtime got me the Mario brainvurms again so I wanna ramble a bit: As much as I adore and put a lot of stock into Wario and Waluigi's dynamic (and as much as Waluigi's my favorite character), I actually don't think Waluigi should be in the Wario games. Particularly Ware, but that also goes for Land in case that ever comes back from the grave. And it's not because of anything wrong or lacking with Waluigi as a character, quite the opposite: I think a lot of what defines him, what makes him interesting in different ways than Wario, actually makes him a terrible fit for Wario's narrative real state. Not an issue when they're together filling in a necessary dynamic in Mario territory, but it gets trickier when Wario's supposed to be the lead in an actual story.

In regards to Land, the central appeal of Wario Land is in the fact that you can play as Wario. I'd said as much before that, generally speaking, where as Mario is altered to fit his games, Wario's games are built to fit him. As much as WL did to flesh out Wario as a character, the core concept for Wario Land 1, and every subsequent game, comes back to the idea that you are playing a bigger, nastier Mario, who can't run as fast or jump as high, but is stronger and full of stranger surprises, so he engages with different kinds of obstacle courses and yyou have to figure out what he can and can't do to solve them. Every alteration made to the Wario Land series over the years, not just in relation to the Super Mario Land platformers it spun out of, was built around turning Wario's existing traits into gameplay mechanics.

He is a bully and a brute and thus you shoulder bash your way through problems, his propensity for comedic slapstick turned into full blown immortality and the source of his power-ups, he is far more interested in sniffing for gold than actually saving anyone so his adventures are less linear, your endgoal is to get the biggest treasures possible, his thieving bastard explorer nature eventually allowed for a timed Indiana Jones boulder escape at every level, Shake It lets you literally shake down enemies for cash, etc. The one time they took the opposite route and really altered Wario to fit a pre-ordained gimmick was in Master of Disguise, and soundtrack aside there's some good reasons why that one's so unpopular it's not even considered a Wario Land game.

All of these are traits that are built to fit Wario, and mainly Wario, and you could argue that these by extension apply to Waluigi because of his traits that overlap with Wario's, and for sure the spin-offs demonstrate that Waluigi does tag along on Wario's treasure hunts sometimes, but if we concede this and add Waluigi as a Player 2, then: A: What is so great and unique about Wario, if other characters can also do all the absurd things he does? And B: What is so great and weird about Waluigi, if all he's doing is just the stuff Wario already does?

The Mario platformers don't really have this issue with Luigi not just because Luigi as the Player 2 is grandfathered in, but because mechanically speaking Luigi isn't very different from Mario, and because the gameplay mechanics for Mario platformers are nowhere near as specialized as Wario's is. Everybody runs and jumps and collects power-ups and does the same things Mario does, that's why the Toads and the princesses can jump in on it just fine. Wario sharing the glory of being Wario is just not what Wario does, and it's Waluigi's thing even less. With everyman all-ages Mario, everyone's invited to join in the fun, but when the whole point is you reveling in "you get to play as Wario!", WHERE BEING BAD IS GOOD AND GREED IS GOOD HEHEHEHEHEH, you really lose a lot of the appeal turning it into "you get to play as Wario, and another guy (or even more) who can also do the things Wario does, turns out Wario's willing to share I guess". Even working in a different set of paths and solutions per level so Wario and Waluigi could solve problems differently would just be splitting levels by half of the work and half of the fun.

For comparison's sake, Pizza Tower has a second playable character in the form of The Noise, a rival who is opposite to Peppino personality-wise. Despite having more or less the same proportions (and in prior builds playing identically to Peppino), in order to accomodate his personality that is also his main selling point, he plays in a different manner through levels that weren't designed around him (not different enough that it excludes co-op though), and so he actually breaks the game, and that is in fact worked into everything he does: Pretty much the main running gag through The Noise Update is that he is brazenly cheating and easily clearing through the things Peppino worked so hard to beat "fairly", and that he is a piece of shit with no emotional stakes in what he's doing, turning every hardship or battle into a joke.

Pizza Tower is just as much built around Peppino's character as Wario Land is (which is part of why the game became faster and more stressful, and thus played increasingly less and less like Wario Land over every subsequent build up until release), and it was only ever going to accomodate the Noise's personality by either designing new levels (and thus a new game) around him, or going all the way on him breaking the existing ones and occupying an opposite role to Peppino's, which fits him. Again, you could argue this dirty cheater angle fits Waluigi. The problem is, again, redundancy, and it not fitting Wario Land. Gameplay-wise, Wario is already breaking and even cheating through levels to clear them, he is already flipping the middle finger to traditional Mario-style platforming the way The Noise is doing to Peppino's playstyle. And story-wise, Wario doesn't let himself be outdone, he is not getting upstaged from his own adventures. Peppino doesn't WANT to be in his own adventures, that's why the game plays him for pathos and The Noise gets played for pure satire. They get to do completely different things in a way I'm not sure you could do with Wario and Waluigi without significantly overhauling the way Wario Land works, and at that point, why bother.

That being said, I definitely do want there to be a way Wario and Waluigi could star in a platformer together, it would be a dream for me. But I don't think that's going to work for Wario Land, and not doing Wario Land runs the risk of doing Master of Disguise again so, it'd take a lot of work. I want to say there is at least a possibility of making it work, which is definitely not an argument I'd make for Waluigi joining the WarioWare cast.

The thing about how WarioWare's cast works, and how it manages to keep Wario recognizably Wario even in a drastically different role than the one he occupies in Mario spin-offs and Wario Land alike, is a very simple but effective dynamic: Wario is the boss, and everyone else is your friend/co-worker. Wario is the ringmaster, and the circus freaks need your help to keep the show afloat. Wario is Michael Scott/J Jonah Jameson, and you're in the Dunder Mifflin/Daily Bugle trenches with everyone else.

All of the WarioWare characters are lovable weirdos, it comes with the question of "what kind of person would not just be friends with, but willingly work for Wario?". They are weird, they are dorks, they are (mostly) nice, they (mostly) get along, but above all, they are accomodating. Of their weirdness, of your weirdness, even of their boss' weirdness. Their goal is to guide you through the challenges and fun and encourage you to succeed. They do all the hard work in making these games fun to play. They are directly, proportionately opposite to how much of an dynamic jerk Wario is, and that's why Wario gets to keep on doing Wario things.

He gets to cause problems and lead the gang into trouble, he gets be mean, he gets to hijack proceedings and directly insult and mess with the player, he gets to be the villain, he gets to be the butt of the joke, he gets to crash and fail. The Ware crew gets to be people you come to know and relate to and love, while he gets to be the GOTTA WIIIIN guy. It's a fine balance and a very good deal on their end.

It also has no room whatsoever for Waluigi, anti-social party crasher conniving drama queen extraordinaire, in anything other than a cameo or a one-off antagonistic competition with them. He isn't going to take Wario, or anyone's place, and his dynamic with Wario in the spin-offs just doesn't translate to Wario's role in WarioWare. And he belongs even less in the WarioWare crew (especially with characters like Jimmy T and Crygor, who have significant overlapping traits with Waluigi already), he is just not made for playing nice with others like that. It's not that he can't, his player interactions can be remarkably non-antagonistic and chill even, but it's not his thing.

He is Waluigi, as they reiterate in every bio, he is dastardly and mean and also a tryhard loser who "thinks" he's Luigi's rival more so than he actually is, and who doesn't seem to get along with anyone other than Wario, in fact he barely plays nice with Wario a lot of the time, they're partners in crime first and foremost and are depicting bickering over spoils when they work together. He'd just break the balance that makes this cast dynamic work so well without offering anything in return, and would be worse off for it. If anything Waluigi should be the last person to work for WarioWare, it has nothing to do with what he's about and the dude knows firsthand how little Wario intends to pay anyone ever. You could get stuff out of playing him as a rival trying to muscle in their gigs, or beat Jimmy T on the dance floor, and even that's stretching a bit.

I think the biggest problem comes down to the fact that the main thing with Waluigi, much like Wario, IS his outsized personality and the role it offers him, and with how Wario's games are precision-built around him and him alone as the center, putting Waluigi in those is dooming him to get sucked into Wario's orbit in roles that just don't work for him and dillute the chief appeal of putting Waluigi in stuff. Even if he's already secondary to Wario in the spin-offs, in there they fill in a niche together, two halves of one idiot, Camelot's favorite boys and all that, that you can't carry over when Wario has bigger things to do than just play along and be a nuisance to Mario.

I was very happy with Princess Peach: Showtime in part because of how committed it was to the idea of putting Peach and Peach alone in the spotlight, with NO Mario elements whatsoever tagging along for the ride. There is not a single trace of Mario or Bowser anywhere, the Toads leave at the opening cutscene and don't come back until the post-credits when their only role is to give her crown back. The game is just Peach going on adventures, righting wrongs and trying new personas and putting on a show with the people she's saving.

It's short, sweet, it's kind of a baby game and it has to be for the target audience, and it doesn't seem to be super popular in general but I'm glad it sold well, I'd like for Nintendo to make more games like it. It got me to like Peach more than I ever have before, and it got me feeling very good about the fact that this exists at all. Seems like there really has been a creative renaissance for Mario over the past years. Not that I ever expect it to happen anymore, but I always dreamed of Waluigi getting to have something like this, although I'll say that Peach's was a very long time coming (especially given the failure of Super Princess Peach) and I'm glad this premise was made with her. I never thought it'd happen and that makes the former dream seem, y'know, a little less impossible. Maybe.

Semi-unrelated but I am also extremely glad that Madame Grape exists, definitely a character I'd like to see return to occupy a position akin to King Boo or just go-karting with the others. And by no means was this intentional, but I definitely get a kick out of the fact that the villain in Showtime is an overlooked purple-clad drama queen who creates and leads a group literally called "Sour Grapes", who wants to claim her role in a world of happy shining people who don't APPRECIATE her work unless she makes them, who wants to plaster her face and name and colors everywhere, and who is incredibly invested in making Peach her nemesis and foil, even though this story was supposed to be about Peach taking a break for a change and Grape is very far from being the worst thing Peach has to deal with on a regular basis. Just reminded me of another guy who tried to hypnotize "the rhythmless masses" with sweet dance moves once.

[alta1r1an]

Warmaster Torvi Scorchgear flumps down next to Pythus in the mess hall, covered in grease and ash.

"Don't ask," she begins, flashing him a mischievous side eye, helping herself to a slab of meat and a token potato. "Say, the Tribune ain't particularly attached to that shed near the lumber pile....right?"

The smell of gasoline coming off her hair is stronger than usual, and she is uncharacteristically unarmed, her trusty flamethrower nowhere to be seen.

"-and uh...don't suppose you've got a torque wrench in your quarters that I could borrow, have you?"

Pythus lets out an inquisitive 'mmf?' around a mouthful of scrambled eggs he had just shoveled into his muzzle at the sudden question. The food in his mouth barely swallowed when he spoke up to reply.

"Uh, no I don't think- Wait hang on no, Tell me nothing happened to that bleeding lumber pile. Centurion will have me and my warband doing laps of the whole Plateau if they think I signed off on our work without ACTUALLY having the lumber piled."

He grabs a fistful of his bacon and shoves it down his mouth. Chewing loudly as he grunts, not bothering to swallow before speaking again. "Ah don fink is an ishue?" He swallows. "The tribune certainly wont come down on your case for it. And well if you weren't seen... stuff gets vandalized here all the time, flame legion, seperatists, skritt."

He suddenly leaned in, sniffing Torvi's hair. "...burn me, you might want to splash yourself into one of the river's after this. Unless you're looking to get some cruddy Iron engineer to stroke himself to you like they do their blasted war wagons"

He snorts, taking another bite of his eggs. "I don't particularly got much in my quarters, but a torque wrench? I'm blood and I carry lumber all day." He tilts his head. "Actually, what is a torque wrench?"