#it makes the incomprehensibly loud wail of a dying star

[thunderheadfred]

Finally caught Bonnie in pacifier mode

[cruelzy]

movie

ao3 cross

pairing: bakugou/reader

“What?”

“I said,” you spoke offhandedly, eyes trailing the blonde ambling into the room with his mail. “We should go watch a movie on your day off.”

“Oh wouldn’t I just love that?” His voice was utterly drenched in sarcasm as he dropped the package, pressing a hand into the column of his neck with an irritated hiss. He sat without a semblance of grace, kicking the chair back.

“What? Why not?” You whined, begged, leaned over the table to invade his personal space. He batted away your flailing arms with a single hand, eyes never moving from the box he was opening. 

“I don’t have time,” he grumbled.

“Please?” Your muffled voice came from underneath his palm. Peering through the gaps in his spread fingers your tone softened, lips pressing gently to the rough skin. “You’re always training.” The young hero barely had any time to do anything, and it was driving you nuts. “Spend some time with me?”

Bakugou glared down at you. You found yourself being lost in the tunnel of those blood red eyes--a familiar storm within them quietly brewing, calm for now but ready to rage when necessary. 

He grunted a sigh, reluctantly submitting to your request. “Fine.”

You positively beamed, wiggling your eyebrows. “Yes! It’s a date then.”

“Not a date.”

“Shh,” You flicked his forehead. “Get into the spirit you brat.”

This’ll be nice, you thought to yourself as you jumped over the couch, dodging the chair that was thrown at you by the enraged hero. A nice, peaceful escape from the stress and excitement. After all, what could go wrong?

As it turned out, the right question to ask may have been ‘what could go right.’

Because everything was going wrong.

“We are not watching some dumb chick flick,” he eyed the poster of the movie with disdain.

The cashier looked nervously between the two of you from the booth, raising his hand slightly. “U-uh, you guys are holding up the l-line-”

“Shut up!” You both turned on him simultaneously, and he let out a terrified squeakclose to that of a dying animal. 

 You hissed a sigh through your teeth, turning back to Bakugou. “This is supposed to be a time to relax.”

“Sure.”

“Peace. Tranquility.”

“And?”

“What about loud explosions is relaxing to you?!”

His scowl deepened. “Do you even see who you’re talking to?”

“I-If i may cut in,” the cashier spoke again, quickly, rushing over the words lest the two of you decided to turn dark stares upon him again. “How about a c-compromise? There’s the n-newest comedy out?”

You paused. That might actually not be that bad. You turned hopeful eyes to your companion as he groaned for the third time that day.

“Fine,” that seemed to be his favourite word for handling the exhaustion that came with you, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

The cashier smiled, handing you the movie tickets with your receipt. “There you go! I hope you enjoy your date!”

Bakugou snatched the tickets with a bit more force than necessary. “Not a date.”

You rolled your eyes, ignoring the cashier’s flabbergasted expression and rushing to follow after his long strides. “Don’t worry--he’s just shy. Have a good day!”

The movie itself, quite plainly, sucked.

It was corny--and not intentionally so, but the kind that was trying way too hard with every bad pun. The row in front you seated a woman whose extravagant hair-do was attempting to shoot into the ceiling, and consequently you had to find creative ways to maneuver your head so that you could even see the screen. A couple elementary school kids across from you were snickering at everything. And you meant everything. 

You had to physically hold down Bakugou’s hand from blasting them through the wall.

Bakugou himself only got more annoyed as time passed--though you think that attributed more to the people around than the movie itself. He seemed pretty impassive on the film, apart from the occasional smirk whenever the main character would get hurt for comedic effect. Figures that would be what he found funny.

Your own mood increasingly soured with each second. Soon you lost interest completely, the screen becoming a collage of flickering pictures and background noise.

By the time the movie had ended, you had a stiff back from the seats, a headache from the rowdiness, and a strong temporary dislike for children.

“That was dumb,” Bakugou said, cut clear and straight to the point as the two of you walked down the sidewalk. You agreed.

“It was. I always seem to mess everything up yeah?” You mused absentmindedly that you hadn’t seen the stars in a while - what with the light pollution in your neighbourhood. It was nice to admire the twinkling lights for even a moment.

When you glanced back down, Bakugou was looking at you as if you had just said you were planning to go fly to the moon.

“What are you on about now?” He narrowed his crimson eyes at you in incomprehension, small wrinkles cresting by his eyebrows, his mouth twisted down in a familiar yet entirely alien gesture.

“You said you didn’t want to come, but I pushed anyway,” you laughed. “Right?” The laughter wouldn’t stop, and soon you found that words were falling from your lips without passing through your brain first. “Every time we try something like this, it fails. I should have learned my lesson by now, but I guess not. Looks like I’m even more stubborn than you.”

He stopped still, the scuffling of his shoes on the gravel fading to a silence that echoed down the empty street. You didn’t notice, already caught up in the white noise that buzzed and pounded inside your head.

“I don’t know why I even try anymore. Is it pity why you still tolerate me?” you rambled, choking on the laughter that had turned to gasping convulsions of giggles. Self deprecation twisted inside you, burrowed deep, writhing. “Not that I’d be very surprised-”

You tripped.

It wasn’t of your own volition, more a side effect of the hand that had suddenly grabbed onto the back of your shirt and pulled. The collar tightened around the front of your throat momentarily as you tried not to stumble. 

Bakugou released you once you were firmly put back by his side, making you realize you had begun walking without him. When had he stopped moving?

“Baku-?”

“First,” he made abrupt eye contact with you, his storm fully raging now, yet somehow still managing to look almost bored. You couldn’t break the gaze--it successfully planted you to the ground, preventing you from leaving whether you wanted to or not. “Stop with the waterworks.”

You blinked owlishly, mute in confusion, before you slowly registered the wetness on your cheeks. You touched a hand cautiously to the skin in disbelief. You hadn’t even noticed you’d been crying. Your mind further blanked when a coarse thumb wiped underneath your left eye, taking some of the moisture with it. 

“You’re being more of an idiot than usual. How are you responsible for the cashier recommending us that waste of time? Or for the morons in the theater?”

You couldn’t find a rebuttal. “I-”

“Quiet,” he growled, yet the caressing motion of his thumb on your cheek contradicted the harsh statement. “You’re messing up that damn makeup you wailed and fussed over this morning.” You flushed in embarrassment, knowing you over dressed for this simple outing. You couldn’t help it. You had just been so…happy. 

The blonde’s utter disregard of sugar coating the ridiculousness of what you were doing cut through your emotional fog, and you sighed. 

“You’re…right,” You murmured, tugging at the end of your shirt absentmindedly. “I’m sorry.” 

You made to move, already eager to get back home. You were exhausted, the shoes you had chosen to wear uncomfortable and squeezing the life out of your toes, makeup no doubt smudged. Your bed was calling to you, inviting you in its warm embrace.

“Didn’t I just say to shut up?” 

Perplexity and soon annoyance flooded you at his words, and your head snapped up, ready to lay it on him thick. Your mouth opened but any thoughts fell on a noiseless tongue as he slid his hand to the back of your neck, unnaturally warm against your clammy skin, the pads of his fingers pushing you closer abruptly. 

His mouth met yours and the world fell away. 

Against anything you ever would have predicted, it was soft at first. He was gentle even. (That’s it, that’s the sign, you must have been hallucinating, this is Bakugou you were talking about.) He pressed a short kiss to the corner of your mouth, once, twice, barely there, hovering. The third time he noticeably lingered, as if savouring the contact, fingers grazing the baby hairs at the base of your neck.

There was a lull, a split second where nothing was happening at all, merely shared breaths and uncertain hesitancies. You swallowed shakily, letting out a shocked whisper of his name from your lips onto his. 

The moment snapped and then his hand was suddenly tangled in your hair, and he was kissing you. You swear you felt sparks, bursts of heat running along your skin--and there was a good chance that it wasn’t your imagination, steam rising in your peripheral from him. He took advantage of your slightly parted lips--open from the words you never got to say--and dove deeper, pressed his free hand into the arch of your spine so that he could close the distance between you forcefully. You tried to think, comprehend what was going on, but anything other than the feel of his hands on your skin, the desperation curling in your chest, the taste of him was shoved to the back of your mind. 

It was over all too soon, and you opened your eyes (opened, when had you even closed them?) to see him studying you with an unreadable expression. He licked his lips briefly, causing your heart to stutter, before he turned wordlessly.

“Terrible date,” he spoke, but his words had no bite as he began to walk once more. You stood for another second, speechless, before a grin spread contagiously across your face.

“You admitted it was a date!” You yelled as you ran to catch up with him, nearly face-planting from your unsteady feet.

He snorted.

“I knew it!”

[whoaimhellatrash]

Devoured

Some sort of H.P. Lovecraft inspired horror about beasts that lurk in the jungle. It's not too long but have some more under the cut! (Warning! there’s some gore and lots of..descriptive language)

Though intangible, darkness weighed thick and heavy all around a lone figure whose shape was purely hidden within the dancing shadows of bleak, inky blackness all around it. The shape of a man, or what could be presumed to be a man, moved swiftly and soundlessly through the lush foliage that was sparsely illuminated by the waning crescent of the moon, a mere sliver in the dark void of the sky that held it and the tiny, blinking specks of stars. Mostly void, partially stars, the infinitely expanding universe splayed out above him in the deep sky that bathed the world below it in a shrouding blanket of darkness and incomprehensible infinity.

Despite such thick underbrush and leaf litter that carpeted the jungle floor, the figure moved with a fluid and silent step, each foot fall precise and careful, barely disturbing even a single leaf. Keen eyes scanned the shadows for whatever may lurk within them, the dangers that the forest retained inside it’s foreboding maze of looming trees whose canopies reached high into the endless nothingness of the sky.

Everything seemed still and quiet but the figure still remained wary, vigilant eyes and ears meticulously scanning each niche and corner of the jungle. Despite the hot, burning sun having found it’s grave beyond the horizon, the hot, thick air still weighed like a wet blanket on the figure’s chest and shoulders, making him feel like he was inhaling water, yet he still kept his breathing quiet and smooth. Silently taken in through the nose and a hot, soft breath released through his parted lips. In, out..in, out..in, out..in, out..in, stop.

Everything in his body stilled, frozen and stiff. The figure lowly crouched against the base of a tree, hidden in it’s tall, thick roots, knees touching his chest as he scanned across the forest floor. Without light, he was left to rely on his hearing to seek out what had suddenly caused his hairs to stand on end. The damp earth beneath his feet and hands shifted just barely beneath the delicate weight of his body, no movement nor sound betraying what had suddenly brought his attention to high alert. Minutes pulled by like hours, the moon’s journey across the night sky hardly making even the slightest bit of headway as he waited; patient...cautious.

Perhaps a little over 15 minutes had ticked by, stillness and quiet surrounding the figure, only disturbed by an occasional scurry of tiny paws across the floor or the shifting of a branch high above him. Although his guard was slowly ebbing down, he could still sense a creature, lurking within the shadows just as he himself was; a stand off to see who would move first, who would attack, who would run, who would be predator and who would be prey.

A soft breeze pushed through the trees, leading a stray beam of moonlight to cascade down onto the forest floor, briefly reflecting off of a pair of eyes that seemed to pierce into his soul, locked onto him with the intense stare of a predator ready to pounce. They were pitch black, pupils blending into iris and into a similarly black cornea. The only color he could see was a ring of red, sharp and focused, circling what was most likely the pupil. He stared back just as intensely, challenging yet submissive, ready to fight but not wanting to, ready to kill but likely unable to.

A low, inhuman sound bubbled from the penumbra cast across the night-locked jungle floor. A deep, throaty growl, gurgling and pouring out from behind rows of white, sharp fangs. Rows of them, sharp and dangerous, all revealed with a snap and crack of a dislocating jaw, unset from it’s normal place like a snake. The nauseating sounds of joints shifting out of place and popping back in paired with a low, guttural snarl that didn’t sound anything like an animal was enough to make his stomach lurch and twist. Bile burned the inside of his throat and he soon heard a splash of liquid and some sort of solids sloshing and splattering onto the forest floor, crushing leaves and still dripping loudly. Petrified in fear, he did not move, watching as the predator grew massively in size out of the brush, shoulders higher than haunches which led him to assume it was a quadruped. The hips of it’s bones and the blades of it’s shoulders was seemingly just one sliver of a cut away from breaking open skin and poking out of the dry, rough hide that blended in with the blackness around it.

The man, still under a spell of fear, watched the gangly, boney creature step out into the few yards of grass between them, view unhindered by the underbrush that he himself hid in. His previously slow and silent breathing grew faster as he watched the beast grow higher, thick, viscous tar dripping from it’s mouth and splashing onto the floor a few meters beneath it’s unhinged and slack jaw. It smelled rancid and sharp and the desire to empty his stomach contents was growing ever more present.

Threatening, deadly claws dug into the dirt, almost human like paws meeting the base of the claws, boney as the rest of the body. The disgustingly slackened maw looked like it was hanging on by the barest threads of muscle and cartilage, the skin around it torn and filled with holes as though burned through by something, likely the tar that singed and burned the leaves where it dripped. The jaw swayed with each step forward and the man could only cower lower and lower, eyes terrified, flickering across the beast, desperate and cornered, pitifully quivering where he crouched.

Perhaps in a stroke of good luck or bad, an even larger beast, one resembling that of a hyena perhaps but with the size of a tiger, lunged from the darkness, revealing that their previous standoff had not been between himself and the beast in front of him, but in fact two beasts who equally wanted him as prey. A powerful roar bellowed from the new beast and the lanky, horrifying leviathan of a predator who was so close to devouring the man, crashed to the floor with a mortifying, desperate shriek. The sounds of tearing flesh and clattering bones, snapping beneath the weight of it’s killer replaced the heavy silence that once controlled the air around them.

The man watched in awe and with a vile, morbid curiosity. The organs of his near killer spilled with a gushing splatter out of it’s chest and stomach cavity, a powerful jaw and sharp claws ripping and tearing into the thick, tough hide to the warm, bloody flesh below. Bones snapped and loud, terrified wails of a cornered and dying animal filled the air, the putrid scent of blood soon following.

He sat and watched until cat eye pupils narrowed in on him, the low growl, a warning snarl from bloody chops, snapped him out of his trance. He slowly backed up, low and submissive to the ground before turning tail and running, his panic preventing him from being as cautious and quiet as before.

He barely escaped with his life, yet the jungle will forever be as relentless and harsh as she always is, unsparingly slaughtering those who are not strong, fast or smart enough to survive. He will not survive. Some other beast, or disease, or perhaps even starvation will soon consume him. But tonight, one night of many, he will live. He will survive through sheer, pathetic luck that some other unholy soul was perhaps a little more fitting of a meal than himself.