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voidaus · 4 years

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Final Goodbyes

Summary: Your a Youtuber and in a stream you see this pen-pal app and download it, creating an account. This all happened months ago. The guy you met on there was amazing, and you talked for months until he just... stopped.

Genre: Angst?

warnings: swearing, fighting

Requested? No

Word count: 1402

I believe everyone deserves a second chance. No matter how difficult things are. No matter how ugly things got. But maybe sometimes, the problem is that I believe too much. Seeing good in every person, while of course, some people are just... not good.

But that's not how this story goes. No, he is good. I am a hundred percent sure of that. The question is, 'is he willing to change and show that side of him?'. I guess we won't find out if I don't reach out to him huh?

The grey laptop is on my couch, still warm from the last time I used it just an hour ago. Grabbing myself some hot chocolate I lay down on the soft pillows and pull my blanket up to my chest. Whilst finally deciding I'm comfortable in this position I grab the laptop again and open it, typing in my password. The device starts up, letting me in.

"miaow" a soft purring comes from the ground. My cat, Athena, jumps on the couch as soon as I pat it. "Hey there gorgeous" I greet her. The laptop dings, making it clear that it's ready to be used. I give it my full attention again. Should I really open Zaira?

Zaira is an online penpal app where you can anonymously make friends. I signed up about 2 years ago and never really managed to find someone I really hit it off with. You know, I just couldn't find the words to talk to any of the people who messaged me. My anxiety not really helping with making friends, of course, I thought meeting them online would be easier. I was wrong.

No one understood me, which isn't really surprising. I'm a bookworm, but also a gamer. I have lots of hobbies but not quite the energy to pursue them. The only thing that still has me uploading videos and streaming is the money and my supporters. My supporters standing first on the list, of course. I upload mostly gaming videos under the name Void. I go faceless. I never really liked my appearance for that matter.

I hesitate but still open it. The familiar logo greets me and only a moment after that my only friend on the site shows up, bringing back memories.

Zaira? What's this? "An online penpal app where you can add strangers and make friends. Now free in the AppStore!" I read the description out loud for my viewers. "Should I download it guys?" I ask the live chat, hoping they would say yes. Soon enough I get the confirmation from them and I click the button, hoping it won't take too long to download. I create a profile typing in my bio: 'Bookworm, Gamer, Weeb :)' The chat confirms that that pretty much describes me making me laugh. "Perhaps we can actually meet some cool people on here guys! Who knows?""Alright." I scroll through the site, reading people's bios until one of them spots the fans' eyes. The comments are going crazy fast right now. "click them!""omg Void, you have to message Sasori!" and more comments like that. I click on the profile, reading it's bio. Their given name is Sasori Matsudo. I laugh, explaining to some of the viewers that don't watch anime that these are names from Naruto and Death Note. "I suggest you watch them. those are some good animes!".

I smile at the memories and click on his profile. "Sasori Matsudo" the name rolls off my tongue. I chuckle "not a weeb huh?" Slowly looking through the messages, the familiar empty feeling enters my body again. To be honest, it never left. Ever since the fight, it was always there, following my every step. I close my eyes, letting the painful memories flood in again.

"I just don't understand why you can't talk about it with me!" your voice is slightly raised as you hold the phone in your shaking hand. "Because I just can't, okay! I can't keep throwing all of my shit onto you. you know I could never do that!" The man you know as Corpse yells back. You're both stressed out and upset, and this is the worst fight you ever had. You had decided to message 'Sasori Matsudo' on Zaira, and you two grew close very quickly. After 4 months of chatting on the site, he gave you his number. Not long after, he told you That he's the famous Youtuber known as Corpse Husband. You began to watch his videos and enjoyed them a lot, telling him so. In the fifth month of you two knowing each other, You started to call each other once in a while. That turned into calling every day, and soon you were calling more than 4 hours a day.

Your voice softens at his upset tone, realizing you're not the only one hurt here. You give a deep sigh before talking into your phone again. "I'm always here for you Corpse. I don't care how many times you call me, even if it's in the middle of the night. You make me feel better, you make me happy, and I want to be there for you. Please don't shut me out like this." you're practically begging at this point. He can't shut you out! Not like this.

"Void... You know I love you. Please, keep doing what you're doing, keep making videos and baking, and all the little things I love about you. But I just can't continue doing this to you. I'm sorry." He speaks up. The low voice you adore so much is soft and trembling. He sounds like he could break down crying any time now. "No, please, Corpse! Please don't leav-"

your phone lets out a long beep cutting you off. Breaking down crying, you hurl your hand against your mouth, attempting to silence your sobs. On the other side of the line, the man with the curly black mop on his head is doing the same. Tears flow down both of your eyes as void fills your hearts.

It hurts, but he knows he had to do this. He was always troubling you with his feelings, and he couldn't even show you his face! What kind of friend is that? Loud sobs take over his apartment, as his heart hurts, knowing he can't talk to you again.

And he didn't.

You lay on the couch, clenching your blanket awfully hard. You don't notice the tears streaming down your face till Athena climbs onto your lap and licks them off. You cuddle her in an attempt to comfort yourself, as the dark feeling in your chest grows stronger.

You open a new tab and type in his number. All the old messages show up. He probably blocked you, but you have to try. He wanted you to be happy, but then why did he leave you?!

After that night, he never messaged you again. Did he really not want to talk to you anymore? You ask yourself.

But all Corpse has been doing is lay in bed and upload videos once in a while. His followers noticed something is off, and so has his friends. He's acting off whenever he streams and rarely jokes around anymore.

You text him a simple 'how are you' and close your laptop after. The next day you check if he's replied. Nothing. You keep checking for two weeks, but nothing comes in. It's over. He's not coming back. You begin sobbing and lift yourself from the couch, scaring a sleeping Athena. You jog to the kitchen and shove everything off the counter, breaking some cups and plates in the process. Sliding down against the sink, you put your face in your hands, letting out an ear-piercing scream. The weight of the world is crashing down on you, and all you can do is cry and scream. The daydream is finally over.

Corpse saw your message. He's tried messaging you so many times, but each time he holds himself back. All he wants is to talk to you, but he knows he shouldn't. Well, that's what he believes is best. Every day he thinks about you, thinking that you have already forgotten him, though it's the opposite. You think about him every day, remembering all of the memories.

All the laughs and all the cries. All the comforts, to final goodbyes.

Hey Guys! I hope you're okay after this lil angsty piece of crap lmao. I tried my best. Anyways, if you have any comments or feedback, I always appreciate it! Oh, and 200 notes on 'Grocery Shopping'?!!??? Y'all are crazy, thank you so much!

If you liked this, my taglist is always open and so are my requests!

@persephone-sideblog @reinyrei @cherry-piee @alienvarmint @divine-artemis @milanienne

#corpse husband #corpse x reader #corpse x y/n #corpse fic #corpse imagines #corpse #x reader #Y/N #imagine #corpse husband imagine #angst #corpse angst #softboiicorpse

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rowanfoster · 4 years

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{ odeya rush ♔ twenty-three ♔ she/her } well, well, well if it isn’t rowan foster running around peach hollow. legend has it, she comes from tangerine towers and has lived here her entire life. if you’re wondering what she’s been up to, i hear she’s a make up artist / freelance musician for a living. she has been known to be impulsive yet insightful. a word of advice to her, always look over your shoulder. you never know who is watching.

why yes, it is i, admin kim, with another character that should’ve been kept in the drafts of my mind. if you’ve not met daysia or serenity, here’s a lil low down on me. i’m 26, i use she/her pronouns, and live on the east coast. i thrive on writing angst and my animal crossing villagers being happy. also caffeine. i luv chris klemens. most likely to have a mental breakdown on twitter. meet rowan! trigger warnings for mental illness, bipolar disorder specifically, and inpatient treatment

have a playlist and a pinterest board dedicated to her

rowan celeste foster was born may 27th, 1996. she’s the oldest of two, a baby sister coming to the scene in 1999.

her family is extremely close. they’ve been in peach hollow their whole lives. she grew up in a crowded house on blueberry boulevard, crammed in with her mother, father, sister, maternal grandmother and maternal grandfather. rowan never knew peace or privacy growing up – it just wasn’t possible with that many people which has really contributed to her somewhat isolated adulthood

her mother is a charge nurse at peach hollow general, working on the emergency room floor. her father is a retired car salesman. her grandparents moved into the house when her sister was born in order to help take care of the girls while their parents worked full time. rowan is especially grateful for their care, because she feels like she’d be a little more sour had she been raised by absent parents.

growing up, she shared a room with her younger sister. they told each other everything because they had no choice not to. they both developed an interest in make up and music at very young ages, but rowan particularly took to those things while maci took more interest in sports. when rowan was gifted her first ukulele at age 6, maci got her first basketball. they are polar opposites, but maci was the only person rowan really confided in as a child and an adolescent.

she’d always been rather moody. tantrums and fits were nearly unavoidable. her self esteem lacked before she even had a chance to develop any confidence. she was always the try hard, the girl who stood out because she was just a little different, the emotional one, the one the other kids didn’t want to mess with, not because she’d fight back, but because she would absolutely lose it. there were countless times where rowan ended up in the guidance counselor’s office, waiting on her grandmother to show up and bring her home. that was the beginning of their problems.

her mental health really started to decline in her mid teenage years. she spent hours upon hours in her room, writing songs, playing guitar, practicing make up looks – she’d go days without sleeping and snap at anyone who crossed her path. she got into screaming matches with everyone in the house, only to find herself crying in her bed for the next few days. she started missing days at a time from school, while her artistry thrive, the rest of her crumbled. her grades, all of it.

eventually, this resulted in her parents yanking her out of peach hollow high and putting her in counseling, which lead her to a psychiatrist and a diagnosis of bipolar disorder at the age of 17. while it made sense, she dreaded taking the medications. they numbed everything. her writing suffered, and while her moods weren’t swinging from the trees anymore, she feared that this empty feeling was worse.

she finished her high school diploma in homeschooling with her grandmother while maci went on to thrive in school. the attention shifted to her, and rowan couldn’t really blame them. she turned 18 and started performing in clubs, bars, and anywhere she could get in. ps her voice is a mix of bishop briggs & mary lambert. the thrill of performing to small crowds sucked her in. she began to gain an even smaller following on social media, mainly the locals following her. every once in a while she’ll book a show in atlanta and she’ll make the long drive just to sing in front of a bit of a larger crowd. she’ll gain a few followers from those shows, but this still isn’t her main source of income.

most of her money comes from the make up artistry she does through pop of peach. she doesn’t go in every day, but when someone has an event scheduled or needs their make up done for a dance or something, she’s there. she tries to spread things out bc she’s always late lmao and finds it hard to stick to a schedule

she was doing so well for a few years, even moved out of her parents’ house and into an apartment at the towers. that’s where she really found herself, made some real friends and built relationships that were good for her. however, she missed a few doctor’s appointments and was discharged from her psychiatrist’s office. she went off meds, and for a few weeks it was fine. when she ran out of meds, the next few weeks were okay as well. it was when every single drop of medication had drained from her body that things got bad.

rowan was missing appointments she scheduled at pop of peach. she was spending far too much time out at nights, giving in to alcohol for the most part. she tried not to touch any drugs, but drinking became a nightly thing. she’d perform, then spend the rest of the night partying with whoever she could find at the venue.

one night in atlanta after a particularly shaky performance, rowan found herself in a dark place and simply went into the women’s bathroom to calm down, but police say they found her laying flat on the ground, refusing to respond to anyone. she vaguely remembers the end of the manic episode, but it did land her in the emergency room for a change in mental status.

much to her chagrin, they admitted her overnight before transporting her to skyland trail, a mental health facility in atlanta. she spend about two and a half months there getting medications regulated and learning new coping mechanisms. she was discharged about two weeks ago and finally made it back to peach hollow and her apartment.

she’d lead everyone other than her family and maybe one or two other people that she was away on a musician’s retreat, but really, was in inpatient treatment.

she’s currently working full time as a make up artist at pop of peach and performing when she can, but doesn’t really go outside of peach hollow

fun facts & personality

rowan despises small talk. conversations about the weather or political climate don’t stimulate her and she gets snarky pretty easily. it isn’t that she wants to come off rude or unapproachable, but nine times out of ten, small talk is fake and she feels as though she doesn’t have the time or energy to indulge in it. ask her about the sky or some shit. she won’t shut up

she has a tendency to overshare, aside from what’s been going on in the past few months. her lips are sealed tight about that. however, she’s open to talking about her mental health and is a big advocate for erasing the stigma. this makes rowan a very good listener and a huge supportive presence for anyone struggling. she’s the mom friend, and no matter what time of day or night, if someone says they need an ear, she’ll go to them. she knows what it’s like to be alone.

despite her past and her demons, rowan finds a way to put on a smile. it might often be snarky or sarcastic, but rarely is it insincere. she’s an empath and feels everything so very deeply, but can easily put it away when necessarily.

her apartment is her safe haven. she rarely has company. it isn’t really her thing. she prefers to go to other people’s places. she has her record collection proudly displayed on her living room wall, all the plants you can imagine, incense burning whenever she’s home, and a scottish fold munchkin cat named loonette after her favorite childhood tv show, the big comfy couch. she has hopes to get another cat named molly to match. you know, because we’re all clowns !

she takes great pride in her instagram. it sounds superficial, but often times, rowan will post a good picture and then link to her next show in hopes that somebody will come based on that. while she does have a passion for make up and a second instagram for it, ultimately, she’d like for there to come a time where she can live solely on the money she makes through music

catch her driving her old ass ford focus blaring 00s alternative, mainly fuckin paramore bc she’s heart eyes for hayley williams

wanted connections if ya made it this far!!!!

childhood friends – those who she’s known since elementary school. they’ve most likely watched her go through her many trials and tribulations in class. these could be acquaintances, close friends, or even a ride or die or two.

bullies – people who fucked with her through school. it’s essential that they’re on bad terms currently, but perhaps an enemy turned friend or romantic could be fun??

group therapy pal – this would be super fun and might entail the person finding out about her secret…. msg me for deets

exes – there will be a couple of these, gender does not matter. i’d like to find one that she was dating when she went into treatment and maybe hasn’t seen/spoken to them since they’ve been back, first love, high school sweetheart?? omg possibilities are endless

flirtationship – self explanatory, gender doesn’t matter she’s pan

any other ideas literally lmk!! thanks for reading ♥

#ok.... one more time kngrdjsnh

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makeste · 5 years

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BnHA Chapter 229: The Real Me

Previously on BnHA: Dabi fought a dude who could control ice. For like three pages. Then we cut to my boy Twice, who had located an unconscious Toga (who as you recall had her blood blown up a couple chapters back, so yeah) and was understandably freaking out about how to get her some help. To make a long and somewhat confusing story short, you know that long-haired guy who hacked Giran’s phone? Turns out he has the power to create human puppets or some shit, and he created a bunch of Twice duplicates and sent them to capture the real Twice (who you might also recall has some traumatic history involving clones of himself). Seems they want to use Twice’s quirk to create a backup clone of Re-Destro, just in case history repeats himself and he ends up kicking the bucket like his great-great granddad. Wouldn’t that be sad. Re-Destro getting murdered. Wouldn’t that just be a darn shame. Anyways so let’s see where this leads.

Today on BnHA: The Villain Flashback Arc continues with today’s installment featuring, you guessed it, more villain flashbacks! We learn more about our little buddy Twice who was apparently orphaned as a young teen and subsequently found himself alone in a cold and uncaring world. Honestly you guys, after reading this I’m amazed that he’s still as nice of a guy as he is. Anyway, so he used his quirk to clone himself because he was lonely, and the clones and him engaged in a petty crime spree or two, and then somehow or other it all led to the whole murderfest that fucked up his head so badly. Back in the present, a struggling Jin tries to escape and help Toga, so Skeptic orders his puppets to break Jin’s arms. They do so, but this has a curious side-effect that Skeptic may not have been expecting. Namely, that having that much damage dealt to him makes Twice realize that he definitely is not one of his clones, and is in fact the real deal. This appears to at least temporarily cure his split personality woes, and the chapter ends with him creating about a dozen duplicates to go fuck up the Liberation Army’s day. Hell yes.

(All comments are my unspoiled reactions from my initial readthrough of the chapter. I did a quick edit for grammar and clarity immediately afterward, but aside from that there are no changes.)

hey guys, sorry I’ve been inactive all week; I’ve been sick and haven’t really had much energy. I still am sick, but I appear to have reached the stage of exhaustion where I’m all “eh, fuck it, yeah sure whatever” where it’s ironically easy to motivate myself to do stuff because I have no willpower to resist, lol

so anyway. we’re apparently not missing a beat, picking up right where we left off last week with Twice’s mask being pulled off by one of the gorilla puppets

wow and they’re just like. flinging him aside

DON’T FLING MY BOY NO!! AND GET AWAY FROM TOGA

AHHHH

shit, how creepy is that? are they cold because they’re just ~puppets~ and not actually real, living people? what a disturbing touch

now we’re cutting back to Skeptic, who’s giving the puppets orders and addressing them as various letters of the alphabet. how can he tell them the fuck apart

meanwhile Giran’s asking what they’re doing to his pal. ;_; Giran you continue to be the best

and Re-Destro’s forcibly directing his attention elsewhere, but he’s also answering his question, strangely enough

that’s a lot of detail to be giving the guy when you could have just smacked him and told him to shut up. these villains are so confusing

but I guess they’re just telling him all this to taunt him more, because now Skeptic is bragging that he learned about Jin’s psychological disorder from Giran’s client data

hey btw I don’t think I’ve said this yet, but fuck this guy so hard for taking advantage of Twice’s trauma and using it against him. what a shocker, the Meta Liberation Army of dickheads pulls another dickhead move. these guys are so classy

oh my fucking god you guys Giran is getting hotter with each fucking chapter though fffffffff

if you’d told me a month ago that this dude would be nipping at Aizawa and All Might’s heels for the title of BnHA’s most eligible bachelor I would have called you a liar and a thief, yet here we are. good lord

that said, I appreciate that he’s thinking about how hard it’ll be on poor Twice, but they also just said they’d kill Toga as well, so I imagine that part of it would be pretty hard on her too. just saying

SDLFKSDLFHK SPEAKING OF

FUCK ME YOU GUYS I ALMOST LEAPED TO MY FUCKING FEET, WHAT THE FUCK. DON’T TELL ME THEY’RE GOING TO SNAP HER NECK. HOLY SHIT

SOMEONE BETTER SAVE HER OR I’M GOING TO FLY OUT TO JAPAN AND GIVE HORIKOSHI MY STUPID COLD. THAT’LL SHOW THAT BASTARD. HAVE SOME BRONCHITIS YOU PIECE OF SHIT

AND TWICE IS WATCHING ALL PANICKED AND SCREAMING THAT HE’S GOING TO KILL HER

AT FIRST I WAS CONFUSED AND WAS LIKE, DOES HE BLAME HIMSELF FOR GETTING HER IN THIS SITUATION? BUT THEN I REMEMBERED THE CLONES AND THAT YEAH IT’S LITERALLY HIM KILLING HER THOUGH OMGGGGG

AHHH HE’S SO CONFUSED THIS IS SO CONFUSING

I’M TOO SICK TO DEAL WITH TWICE’S EXISTENTIAL CRISIS YOU GUYS, IT’S REALLY FREAKING ME OUT, HELP. THE FUCKING PANELS ARE ALL WOBBLY-LINED AND THEY KEEP ZOOMING IN ON HIS FACE AND SHOWING HIM ALL BUG-EYED SCREAMING “WHO AM I” OVER AND OVER AGAIN OH GOD

OH SHIT!?!?

ACTUAL TWICE FLASHBACKS OH SHIT?! I was not expecting this oh snap. I am so into this

anyway, so he’s thinking -- with surprising coherence -- that because of his rough appearance, people were always afraid of him growing up

but also, what was that part about him not having a family? so he was an orphan then?? Horikoshi you are aware that I already love Twice and am emotionally attached to him, yes? but like if you want to hit me with even more feels and fuck me up some more then be my guest I suppose?

anyway so whoever he’s talking to here says Jin, who is apparently sixteen here, evidently hit some dude with his motorcycle by accident. oh shit

and baby!Jin says the guy jumped out in front of him and he was obeying the speed limit and everything

and the man he’s talking to seems vaguely sympathetic but says that regardless, it’s usually the victim who ends up winning these cases, and that Jin may end up with a criminal record. “but don’t let it get to you.” oh, sure. yeah, let’s just look on the bright side here

he says that no matter how many times you stumble in life, you can always start over

well shit is it any wonder this kid ended up going the villain route and making a bunch of clones of himself to live his best life? I mean jeez, he had absolutely no one on his side and was slapped with a criminal record when he was only sixteen. that shit is rough

oh fuck me and it just keeps getting worse

well that’s nice. so make that homeless with a criminal record, then. jesus christ he was still just a kid

so apparently his parents died in a villain attack when he was in middle school, and he had no relatives. I guess the state didn’t give a fuck either, damn

I find it extraordinarily easy to empathize with, actually! that’s one of the things that makes you such a great character!

so I guess he originally ended up making a clone of himself just because he was lonely. okay wow. not only does Twice continue to be the most likable villain in the series, he’s working his way up there as one of the most likable and relatably human characters, period

look at this shit! he’s just a guy who had a run of bad luck and tried his best to cope with it in whatever ways he could. there’s nothing villainous about him, he was just someone whom nobody wanted. he had his entire future stolen out from under him in the blink of an eye and had nowhere else to turn. he just wanted some friends for fuck’s sake

and so then he and his merry band committed a bunch of petty crimes. but they just needed some cash so they could live! like, all he wanted to do was just chill out and be happy. I got your back Twice. it’s not your fault

and then the flashback just kind of cuts to him tied to the chair in the aftermath of the clone hunger games. so I guess that’s all the backstory we’re getting as far as that goes. ngl I would have really liked to see just a bit more of the lead-up to that specific event. he’s such a nice guy that it’s a bit hard to picture him just suddenly going “RAWR I’M GONNA MURDER ALL Y’ALL.” but what I’m thinking is that all of the tragedy in his past contributed to him forming his violent alter ego personality, and that one of the clones must have just snapped one day and the rest is history

anyway so now we’re cutting to his first meeting with my new boyfriend Giran

ah okay, so he’s scared because if he actually is one of the clones then just a tiny bit of damage would be enough to finally do him in

btw Giran, possibly the one good thing Re-Destro and his buds did was getting rid of that scarf and sunglasses though bud. if you decide to change up your look after all of this, I’m not going to complain. there’s a reason I thought you were just some douchebag this whole time. obviously I shouldn’t have been so quick to judge you, I realize that now of course

but seriously Giran who wears sunglasses at night indoors. I mean, idk, maybe you get migraines or something. but if not I’m just saying

regardless, questionable fashion choices aside, Giran is actually a super nice guy, a mensch if you will, and he is now casually changing Twice’s entire life in the span of a few sentences. awww

how the fuck were you planning on smoking that cigarette while wearing a paper bag over your face. ??

also, Giran on this page kinda reminds me of Sanji, if Sanji was, like, a beatnik about to throw down on open mic poetry night

anyway so that’s the end of our happy flashback, and now we’re back in the present with Twice resuming his freakout!

but in spite of his mental struggles, he’s shaking the puppet clones off and trying to dash toward Toga again omg!

up in his little tower Skeptic seems fairly surprised

in related news, fuck this guy so much. also he’s using one of his puppets as a chair, which is one of the creepiest touches Horikoshi has put in this manga to date. but also they mentioned last week that Skeptic makes the puppets out of any human-sized materials that happen to be lying around, so I kind of wonder if maybe this dude originally was a chair. the mysteries of BnHA

moving on though, yeah, Twice and Toga really do have a strong bond though, don’t they? their chemistry is as beautiful as it is strange

oh shit but they really did hit him though

FUCK YOU F AND G

FFFFF SON OF A BITCH

DLASFKJLKJ PLEASE DON’T YOU FUCKING PSYCHOPATH, I CAN’T WAIT FOR YOU TO FUCKING DIE YOU ASSHOLE!!!

motherfucker! and we just established that he’s afraid that a broken bone will be enough to kill him if it turns out he really is a clone!

-- holy shit, but. on the other hand, if it doesn’t kill him though, that just might be enough to cure him of that particular fear once and for all. oh shit, unexpected plot twist

though in this particular situation it probably won’t make much of a difference how sane he is if he’s still got two broken arms though fuuuuuuuck

anyway... gotta click to the next page... even though I really don’t want to, sob

aaaaaaaand they’ve broken them. well shit. at least it wasn’t graphic. he’s just hunching forward and screaming and his arms are facing the wrong way, fuck

and now Skeptic is all “your legs are next,” and uh, can Twice actually hear him, though?? like, what? did I miss something here? is he piping his voice in through the shed’s convenient sound system or something?

anyway he’s telling Twice not to struggle anymore, and Twice is muttering to himself all darkly about how much that hurt

and apparently Toga’s regained consciousness now!!

wow Skeptic, okay sure, go ahead and keep talking about how you’re about to kill Toga in front of his eyes. just keep on digging yourself deeper. it’s like he doesn’t realize there’s only one page left in the chapter and things are just about reaching a tipping point and our heroes (?! I mean they are, though, for this arc at any rate) have had just about enough of his bullshit

lol I can’t take the tension omg

please do something badass please do something badass please d --

oh snap

Twiiiiiiice ;_; so it’s like I thought. they unexpectedly cured you of your identity crisis angst

anyway I guess this chapter is a longer one than usual because it’s page 15 now and we’re still going! so I will now resume my “please do something badass” chant. c’mon Twice. kick some assssssss

YESSSSSSSSSSSSSS

THIS TIME I REALLY DID LEAP OUT OF MY CHAIR OMG. BOIIIIIIIIIIIIIII

LMAO ARE ALL OF THEIR ARMS BROKEN TOO. FUCK IT, IT DOESN’T MATTER. DEKU HAS SPENT APPROXIMATELY HALF THE MANGA WITH BROKEN ARMS AND IT’S NEVER STOPPED HIM*

*forest angst aside. and anyways that all worked out in the end, so

“wounded heroes are the most dangerous.” well fuck. given that we’ve just seen an exhausted and delirious Shigaraki eradicate an entire wave of people, and a bloodied and wounded Toga straight up murder one of the Army’s leaders, I think it’s safe to say we can apply this statement to villains too. and I for one can’t wait how dangerous a wounded -- but now sane -- Twice can be. motherfucker how I am loving this glorious arc

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ezilyamuzed · 6 years

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My Tangerine

Summary: Innocent back and forth between two hunters online turns into a little more.

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warnings: Fluff. Angst. Language. Mentions of blood. Decapitation. Drinking.

A/N: This was developed for @frejahertziswritingthistime 800 Follower writing challenge. The trope I picked was ‘internet pen pals’. I apologize for any grammatical errors, but I am human. Thank you all for taking the time to read this. Any comments and feedback are greatly appreciated! Enjoy!

It all started off simple enough, just a harmless back and forth conversation with an internet stranger, but it slowly turned into.. much more. About two months ago you were trolling the online group message boards, hoping a case would pop up. Most of them of course had no merit to them. Michael Jackson had not possessed their child. Idjits. You couldn’t help yourself as you were scrolling through while finishing off a bottle of Jack to call them out. To have fun with them if you will. Back and forth arguments about Steve Jobs haunting all Apple™ products kept you amused for the next hour. You were about to call it a night when you received a private message request

IMPALA67: You seem to know a lot about ghosts.

You rolled your eyes at the screen. Of course you knew about ghosts, you had just took out one the other night. The dirt from the grave site was still stuck under your nails. You were just going to ignore it, but decided to see what this stranger wanted. Maybe they had a case for you to work and were just trying to find someone to help them

Tangerine23: I might know a thing or two.

Tangerine23: Why do you ask?

IMPALA67: I thought it was funny the way you were handling those conspiracy freaks. They don’t seem to know anything about what they are talking about.

Tangerine23: ….

Tangerine23: No. No they don’t. They watch too much Ghostfacers.

IMPALA67: LOL. Yeah, they are douches.

Tangerine23: So do you just randomly stalk people’s online debates to find people to talk to or do you have a point to all of this?

IMPALA67: Just found you interesting. That’s all.

Tangerine23: If you are a weirdo web stalker that lives in your parent’s basement you really need to find a new hobby.

IMPALA67: I most definitely am not.

IMPALA67: Why were YOU picking arguments with those posers anyways? Maybe you are the weirdo web stalker living in your parent’s basement.

Tangerine23: Maybe I am…you will never know IMPALA67.

IMPALA67: A mystery huh? Okay, I’ll bite.

IMPALA67: So Tangerine, what do you know about ghosts?

The message lingered in front of you as you sat pondering what you should say. Normally you would lie your ass off to any civilian, they would just call you crazy anyways. Even worse have you committed. This was different though, this was an unknown person on the internet. You most likely would never talk to this person, let alone actually meet them. The fifth of whisky you had finished off and your presumptions of the circumstances led you to the simple conclusion. Fuck it.

Tangerine23: More than you will ever know.

IMPALA67: Try me.

Hours had past as the two of you traded stories of the encounters you both had endured. Providing each other with little tidbits on some of the more interesting ways you have had to relinquish a pissed off spirit. As the stranger disclosed to you some of the things that would definitely have placed them in the looney bin, you came to only one possible conclusion.

Tangerine23: You’re a hunter aren’t you???

IMPALA67: Well I’m sure not gearin after Bambi if that’s what you mean.

Tangerine23: You know what I mean smartass. You hunt monsters.

IMPALA67: Monday-Friday, every other weekend. Well, depending on the case. I kind of already figured you were one by the way you were talking there.

Tangerine23: I’ve only known a couple of other hunters.

IMPALA67: Maybe you have met me then.

Tangerine23: Unless you are also dead, then no I haven’t.

IMPALA67: Yeah, that’s what comes with the territory unfortunately. Sorry to hear about your friends, I’ve lost a lot of good ones too myself.

Tangerine23: Never said they were my friends…

IMPALA67: Lone wolf then?

Tangerine23: It’s how I work best.

Tangerine23: Hunter’s tend to be sexiest asshole anyways.

IMPALA67: …?

IMPALA67: Wait, you’re a girl?

Tangerine23: Yeah dude. A girl. Got a problem with that?

IMPALA67: Nah, I’ve known quite a few girls that have kicked my ass once or twice. Just talking to you…it was like talking to one of the boys. Shootin the shit, ya know?

Tangerine23: So because I wasn’t all, “Like totally. OMG! Those shoes!” you just assumed.

IMPALA67: You’re a rare bread sweetheart.

Tangerine23: That I am. Not many of us girls getting the job done.

IMPALA67: So why do you call yourself Tangerine23?

Tangerine23: Well 23 is just a number…

Tangerine23: The other part deals with a song. If you don’t know it, then I don’t think I can continue this conversation any further.

IMPALA67: Tangerine, Tangerine, living reflection from a dream I was her love, she was my queen, and now a thousand years between

IMPALA67: Who doesn’t love Zeppelin?

His comment made you laugh while a smile rose upon your face. No one ever gotten it before. Heck, if it didn’t have anything to do with Stairway to Heaven, most people gave you glossed over looks when you even talked about Led Zeppelin.

Tangerine23: I see you can web search lyrics real quick there.

IMPALA67: If you could only see my tape collection. It’s a good song.

Tangerine23: That it is. Let me guess Impala67 is the year and model of your car?

IMPALA67: That it is.

IMPALA67: My Baby.

Tangerine23: Eh, a ’70 Impala is better…

IMPALA67: YOU SHUT YOUR MOUTH!

Tangerine23: LOL! Touchy about your car huh? Sorry but I’m a little biased on the models there. I have a ’70 Impala parked right outside that is MY BABY.

IMPALA67: Well I accept your apology, and appreciate your choice in models, but I will have to disagree on your year choice. Clearly you are insane.

Tangerine23: Whatever dude. You know we’ve been at this for like 5 hours now…the sun is rising here.

IMPALA67: Where would that be?

Tangerine23: Like I am going to tell you.

IMPALA67: Okay… so I guess you won’t tell me your name then?

Tangerine23: Correct-a-mundo. Give the man his prize…

IMPALA67: And what prize would that be sweetheart.

Tangerine23: Dude, no.

Tangerine23: But seriously, I need some type of sleep. I got a long drive coming up.

IMPALA67: Yeah, me too. I got another case in the works.

Tangerine23: Well good luck with it Impala man.

IMPALA67: Can I talk to you again?

You sat back staring at the screen. It was nice to talk to someone about, well everything. Too often you lied so much about who you were, that you actually started to forget the truth yourself. An internet pen pal…why not? Someone you could just talk to on the road when you found yourself lonely on the road. Someone you could just be yourself with, without consequences.

Tangerine23: Yeah. Goodnight Impala man.

IMPALA67: Goodnight Tangerine.

Your drive was going to take you at least a day if you didn’t waste time sleeping or eating. There was a vamp nest on the other side of the country that was catching a lot of attention from the media. Of course they had no clue what was going on. They chalked it up to unusual animal attacks, but after a while of hacking into the coroner’s report you had your proof that there was definitely a case.

By the time you reach hour 15 of your drive you couldn’t take it anymore. You needed a break from staring at the same yellow and white lines along the road go by. You decided to check into a dump off the highway to maybe get something to eat and an hour or two of shut eye.

When you finally fed your hunger, you decided to flop on your bed with your laptop to see if there were any new reports of attacks. You had only been on it a minute when you had the pop up notification on the bottom of your screen that IMPALA67 had sent you another message.

IMPALA67: I’m dragging ass today. How about you?

Tangerine23: I’m here, that’s as much as I can say.

IMPALA67: So besides ganking monsters what do you do for fun?

That was the start of it. Your almost 6 hour conversation about everything and nothing at the same time. The two of you exchanging stories about your past hunts, the interesting people you’ve met, and what you did to pass the time by that was often lonely. It was easy to fall into since he understood what the life was like, for once it was like having a friend.

IMPALA67: Do you ever wish for the apple pie life?

Tangerine23: You mean the white picket fence, 2 ½ kids, and a dog life?

IMPALA67: Yeah, normal.

Tangerine23: I think I bypassed normal a long time ago.

Tangerine23: I don’t know, it’s just not really in the cards. I couldn’t really see myself settling down like that.

IMPALA67: Yeah, me too.

IMPALA67: I don’t know, I guess it would just be nice to actually share somethings with. You know?

Tangerine23: Yeah, I get it. It’s a lonely life.

IMPALA67: Yeah. I’m lucky I have my brother, but it may be nice to have someone else around.

Tangerine23: …….

Tangerine23: You hinting at something there Impala man?

IMPALA67: No…

IMPALA67: I guess, yeah. Say you and I were to meet tomorrow, what do you think would happen?

Tangerine23: We wouldn’t know.

Tangerine23: Look, I have to catch some sleep now.

You shut your laptop quick to not look at what he could have possibly responded with. The pit of your stomach felt like butterflies were going a thousand miles a second. Meeting him…this stranger. The stranger you met on the internet that you felt so comfortable exposing your true self to. Were you crazy? This was how serial killers find their prey. Humans were the worst monsters of them all. They had too many emotions going on that they usually picked the one that was the strongest. Yours right now bordered on fear and what was that? Infatuation? It had been so long since you had felt like this before. The last time you felt like this it ended horribly. End of your steel blade, horribly. There was no way you would ever let that happen again. You would not let yourself fall down that rabbit hole.

After a couple of hours of sleep you found yourself back on the road once more, picking up speed along the way trimming some time off your journey. You found a crappy motel in town that would make due for your base camp. As long as there was Wi-Fi and a bed you were set.

You pulled out your laptop to check out anything that could be found about the town, local hang outs, abandoned houses, the kind of places that screamed nest. You noticed a lingering message icon on the bottom of your screen. It was probably him. You hesitated before clicking on it to read what he said.

IMPALA67: Sorry if I had freaked you out. I just think you are a pretty interesting person, if you don’t want to talk to me anymore it is fine, I get it. Take care of yourself Tangerine.

Ugh! How could this guy be so sweet and understanding? He was literally making you sick to your stomach now, mostly from the guilt that you just shut him out so quickly. This was just an internet friendship. Two hunters shooting the shit. What was the harm really in that?

You stared at his message for quite a while, contemplating your words. You didn’t want to lead him on, but the last couple of days felt so nice. Being able to talk to someone else. Someone who got it. Got you.

Tangerine23: No, it’s fine. I had just really needed sleep.

You went to go and grab a beer from the 6 pack you bought earlier when you heard the computer chime with another message. You sat yourself back into the dusty chair in front of the screen to read the message.

IMPALA67: I get it. Hell I needed sleep too.

IMPALA67: What kind of case are you working on?

Tangerine23: One that is driving me up the walls right now. I can’t find the link anywhere.

IMPALA67: Care to share some details? Maybe I can help.

Tangerine23: And have Mr. IMPALA swoop in on my case? No thanks.

IMPALA67: Alright then. The cliff notes.

Tangerine23: Something alive killing a whole bunch of people.

IMPALA67: Well that really narrows it down lol.

Tangerine23: Small town with very little suspects.

IMPALA67: Small towns usually mean small town bars. Everyone knows everyone in them. That’s where I would probably start. If anything I’m sure you could use the drink during your investigation.

Tangerine23: You have no idea.

IMPALA67: I would try that first before running around crazy into abandoned buildings. You don’t know what you will walk into.

IMPALA67: I know you will disagree with me, but having back up isn’t a crazy idea.

Tangerine23: I’m good on my own.

IMPALA67: Just watching out for you.

Tangerine23: …..

IMPALA67: I mean, I don’t really want to lose this fun pen pal I’ve met. Kind of stubborn, but easy to talk to. Lol

Tangerine23: I’ll be fine. Actually I am going to check out somethings now while I still have a couple of hours.

Tangerine23: Talk to you later.

IMPALA67: You better. Stay safe Tangerine.

You decided to drive around the town for a bit while checking out the locals. This town screamed the white picket fenced life. Hell there was a coffee shop with a huge advertisement for homemade pies that you knew IMPALA67 would love. As he entered your thoughts you tried to shake it off. Got to get your head in the game. A run down bar appeared in the distance as the sun was starting to set. You shrugged while thinking ‘what the hell’. Maybe it did have answers for you in there. It definitely had the beer you needed.

When you walked you there was only a couple of people sitting around the bar. They looked like they were permanent fixtures in this place. You found a stool near the end where your back could be against the wall so you could keep your eyes open for anything strange and suspicious walking in. The bar tender brought you your beer while you just sat back and waited.

About two hours had past when a group of very pale 80’s looking rockers all fumbled in together. Your instincts screamed vampires as they walked to a back corner booth. The son of a bitch was right. A tall brunette man with a leather jacket and torn jeans led them in. He was definitely the leader of the group. He was going to be the prize fight tonight.

You found yourself watching them carefully, noting their antics as they interacted with one another. Some of the others watched the other bar patrons walk in while showing the hunger in their eyes. They were going to find someone right here, tonight. Out of the corner of your eye you saw someone walking towards you. You reached into your jacket pocket slowly as they drew closer to you, feeling the handle of your machete that hid underneath.

“Hey there sweetheart.”

You looked over at the deep voice, ready to attack. There stood a tall muscular man with the brightest damn green eyes you had ever seen. He gave you a half smile as he placed his hand on the stool next to you to sit himself down.

“Get lost buddy,” you snapped.

He stepped back and put his hands up in defense. “Sorry there sweetheart. I just noticed you were sitting here all by yourself. I figured you would want the company.”

“I’m spoken for buddy,” you lied.

He nodded his head and went to go sit down with a long haired guy who was holding back his laughter. Stupid men. Just then you saw that the vampire leader was starting to motion to the group that they were going to take off. You quickly fixed yourself up as you jumped down from the stool. Show time.

“Oh, my…” you cried as you “tripped” into the leader. He had caught you and pulled you up to his gaze. “I’m so sorry sugar, I must have had a bit too much tonight. I guess I am a little clumsy.”

“That’s alright there Darlin,” he replied with the smell of iron lingering in his breath and a malicious smile rising upon his lips. “We can get you home safe.”

“Well that would be mighty kind of you mister,” you smiled your most innocent smile you could muster. Damn your acting skills were good.

He led you outside by placing his hand at the small of your back, slowly rubbing it back and forth. The others in the group all chattering amongst themselves while displaying devilish grins toward you. You were going to be their dinner, but little did they know they weren’t going to get the chance.

Walking around to the back of the building you slowed yourself a bit, pushing yourself back into the leader’s hand. Were they going to do it here? You turned to face him, as he was licking his lips hungrily. Your hand shot to the inside of your jacket to grab the hidden machete, but the strong force of his hand across your face made you stumble down, hitting your head hard on the ground. You tried to get up quickly, but your vision was foggy along with an intense ringing in your ears. Someone was on top of you now, trying to push their mouth down to your neck as you swung and pushed back with all the strength you could. There was muffled yelling in the distance that you couldn’t make out as you fought your attacker. You managed to push them up just quick enough to feel the hot splatter of his blood across your face. You pushed the headless body off of you while you sat up, rubbing the blood off from your face. Your vision cleared enough to see the guy who had hit on you in the bar with his long haired friend standing above you with machetes in hand. Hunters.

“You alright miss?” The long haired one asked while reaching for you hand to pull you up. You ignored it and pushed yourself to your feet, rubbing your dirty and bloodied hands on your jeans.

“Just peachy,” you replied.

“I’m Sam, this is Dean,” he stated while pointing over to the green eyed flirt behind him.

“Good for you,” you said while pushing yourself past him.

“You were attacked, those things were not human,” he started to say, but you quickly turned to him with a scowl.

“No shit Sherlock,” you sarcastically replied.

“Do you need a ride someplace?” Dean asked while watching you look around to where you parked.

“No, asshat, I got it,” you said while collecting your bearings. You walked away angrily at them, but it was really mostly at yourself. How stupid could you have been to let them get a one-up on you. That was almost bad. You had really cut it too close that time. If it hadn’t been for the two guys showing up, you would have been the main course. You got into your car and punched the steering wheel releasing your frustration on it.

“Son of a bitch.”

After taking a much need hot shower, you passed out in your hotel room until early afternoon the next day. Your stomach grumbled that you needed food, and coffee was going to be a necessity to get you through the rest of your day. The small coffee shop in town that advertised the pies sounded like the best choice. After ordering you sat down at a table towards the back that was hidden behind a low wall so you could go through the web to find your next case in peace.

Others were coming in and out as the hours passed, but you weren’t paying attention to them as you searched through the web for anything that looked suspicious. An incoming messaged popped up on the screen that made a smile form across your face.

IMPALA67: How did the case go?

Tangerine23: Shitty, but it’s all taken care of now. How is yours going?

You heard a familiar ding almost as soon as you hit send, but it wasn’t coming from your screen. You shrugged it off awaiting his reply.

IMPALA67: It was a bit messy but it’s done. A civilian was stuck in the middle of all of it.

Tangerine23: That is always hard when civilians get stuck in the crossfire.

There was that damn ding again right after you hit send on the keyboard. You peaked your head over the wall a bit to see the same two guys from the night before sitting on the other side. The green eyed one typing on the computer in front of him.

IMPALA67: Yeah, she called me an asshat.

Your eyes widened as you read his reply. IMPALA67 was right there. The man you had been fighting feelings for was less than two feet away from you. A wall only dividing the truth. You watched him as he happily took a bite of apple pie while waiting for your response. This was it, you could fall down the rabbit hole or run away.

Tangerine23: Enjoying your apple pie?

You quickly and quietly packed up your stuff to sneak out the back, away from his sight as the nervousness hit you while tapping the send button. What had you done? You didn’t even stick around to see him staring at his screen in confusion while also looking around the shop to see if any one there could be you.

As you walked out you saw it, the sleek black ’67 Chevy Impala. You ran your fingers over her hood while appreciating her beauty. She was gorgeous. You leaned up against her and pulled out your phone to get to the messenger app, Sam and Dean walking out at the same time. Dean had a look of furry on his face that someone was on his baby as he stomped over but you just held up one finger while typing, stopping him in his tracks. You then held out your phone’s screen for him to read. He furrowed his eyebrows while leaning down his face to read it, the shock rising up in his face as he reread what it said.

Tangerine23: Hello IMPALA67.

He looked up with a shine in his green eyes. A smile growing so wide that every line in his face became deeper in pure happiness.

“My Tangerine.”

#pen pals #my tangerine #tropechallenge #supernatural #spn fanfic #dean x reader

43 notes · View notes

soldierkiara · 6 years

Note

Omg can you make sequel headcanons for the angst ones? Like the reader just moved on because they aren't going to deal with their shit and they see the reader happy and get mad? Idk but I need some sequel cause your writing is amazing!

Thanks anon! I know these have been long awaited, and I’m finally getting the energy to work on them.

Reaper

For the first couple days, he was happy not to see you. He was happy that you were finally away from him, finally safe from him and the people he surrounds himself with.

Three days after your argument, his mind began to wonder.

You weren’t the type to give up so easily; but you hadn’t come back to pester him. Did you finally get the hint, or had something bad happened?

He got his answer in the form of bloodied hair in a cardboard box that was neatly perched on his desk.

Immediately anger consumed him; He was going to find whoever did this to you and tear them to shreds with his bare hands.

He searched relentlessly for you, but to no avail. Your captors had you hidden quite well, leaving no trace where the gift he received came from.

It took him six months before he was able to get a lead on where you were.

They were hiding you deep in the Arctic, away from prying eyes.

Talon operatives. His higher ups.

The last straw came when they sent him a video. A video of you on your knees, bloody and emaciated. Your eyes were dull, cheeks gaunt. Your hair had been shaved completely off, chunks having obviously been pulled out harshly.

“Tell your lover what his punishment is.” A voice purred off-screen, a black boot connecting with your jaw. You would have fallen over from the force of it, but chains held your hands behind you and up off the floor.

“G-abe..” You croaked, blood dripping from your mouth. “I.. Love you.”

You coughed as the boot kicked your stomach, and Reaper was able to hear the crack of your ribs over the laughter of your captors.

“Anything else, Sunshine? Any last words to the man who doomed you?”

You smiled a weak smile. You knew you were going to die here; you had accepted that long ago. But you didn’t want to make him worry about you. About the pain you were in.

“I’ll always.. b-be.. by your s-side.”

The men’s laughter grew louder at your feeble words. “See what happens when people love you? You tried to hide them from us, but you seem to have forgotten that we’re always watching. Do keep that in mind the next time you try to secretly acquire another pet.” The screen went black as Reaper’s mind.

It only took him two days to find your prison.

And, like he had vowed, each person who was in your prison was brutally torn to shreds, each in the most excruciating manner possible.

He found your cell, the stench of blood filling his nose. He easily broke the door, light filling the room.

You lay in a crumpled heap in the corner, back to him. You were unconscious, barely able to move due to your broken bones and torn muscles. A fresh wave of anger flooded Reaper, but he carefully scooped you into his arms and took you out.

“Y/N.” He whispered, voice unusually soft. “I’m so sorry. I just.. wanted you to be safe.”

You shifted slightly in his arms, looking up at him with a soft smile. “I’m safe when I’m with you.”

Genji

It wasn’t ending like this.

He wasn’t just going to toss your relationship in the trash so easily. You refused.

That bastard could at least break up with you to your face.

You demanded a plane to Nepal from Jack, who obliged easily.

You knew Genji would be at Zenyatta’s temple. You wondered if Zenyatta had convinced Genji to break up with you, but you had a more ominous feeling in your gut.

You arrived at the temple. It was unusually quiet, as if no one was existing in the space. You walked inside, and did the dumbest thing you could think of doing.

“GENJI SHIMADA!” You screamed at the top of your lungs, his name echoing off the walls.

You waited in silence for what seemed like an eternity before he finally stepped out of the shadows, a soft purple glow chasing away the shadows he had come from.

“You shouldn’t be here.” He said quietly, staring at you. “Didn’t you get the hint? I don’t want you anymore.”

“I don’t fucking think so pal.” You snarled back, stalking towards him. He didn’t back down and regarded you with a cold gaze. “You’re not the type to just end things on a whim. What the fuck is going on? Why are you purple?”

“I have accepted.. other arrangements.” Was all he said as he crossed his arms. “Now leave. Or I will have to make you.”

“Then make me.” You hissed.

He didn’t hesitate as he pulled out his sword, the usual neon green replaced with a deep purple. “Are you sure you want to do this.”

You looked him over. “What are your other arrangements?” You asked instead, taking a small and slow step back.

“They are not of your concern.” He stepped forward and raised his sword again. “Now, are you going to leave or are you going to make you?”

“Make me.” You responded simply, shoving your hands in your pockets.

Genji lifted his sword and swung with no hesitation.

You braced for the impact of it, but it never came.

As if he was short circuiting, his muscles spasmed, causing him to drop his sword. He bent over and clutched his head, falling to his knees with a small groan.

“Y/N, please.” He begged softly, the purple flickering back to his usual green. “I don’t want to do this. Make her stop.”

You stared at him in shock, looking around for the hacker. You weren’t able to spot her. “How can I help you, Genji?”

“Kill her.” He snarled, burying his head in his stomach, his arms over his head as if he was able to block out her influence on him.

“Aw, pobrecito.” The soft trill of the Spaniard seemed to surround you. “It seem’s like he’s no use to me anymore. You just had to ruin him, didn’t you?”

Genji’s light slowly faded back to green as he collapsed, a small groan emitting from him.

You crouched in front of him, hissing. You knew Sombra was going to escape, but you couldn’t risk Genji falling into her hands again. You carefully helped him onto the plane when he regained consciousness.

“I love you, Y/N.” He said immediately.

“We’ll talk about it when we get back to base.”

McCree

You didn’t know where you were.

Your head throbbed as you opened your eyes, the white light of your room nearly blinding you. You tried to sit up, pain shooting through your stomach. You carefully layed back down, wincing.

“Don’t move too much.” A gruff voice spoke from the edge of the bed. You looked over to see a very disheveled McCree.

“What happened?” You croaked, wincing again. Jesse carefully handed you a glass of ice water to soothe your dry throat.

“I shot you.” He said quietly. “When I was drunk at the bar.”

“Oh.” The memories came flooding back. Of walking in on him with another woman. With her blonde hair and ruby lips.

“Who was she?” You tried to ask casually, but the hurt in your voice was clear.

“Honest answer? I’ve no clue.” He wouldn’t look at you. “Some floozy I met at the bar, I think.”

“I see.”

“YN. I’m not expecting you to forgive me. At all. But, I need to apologize. Not just for.. shooting you.. but for cheating on you like that. You’re the most amazing person anyone could ever ask for, and you deserve the whole damn world and more on a gold platter. I..I can never excuse what I did. I can never forgive myself for what I did. I know that. I just.. I want you to know that I mean it when I say that I’m so fuckin’ sorry.” He turned his back to you as his voice broke, coughing slightly to clear his throat from the lump that was threatening to choke him. “If… If you want me to, I’ll be with you ever step of the way until you recover. I understand if you don’t want me, but I don’t want you to feel like you’ve got no one to rely on right now. And then after you’re all healed, you’ll never have to deal with me again. Sound good?” He gave a soft laugh, a nervous laugh as he scratched his beard, trying to subtly wipe the flowing tears from his face.

You watched him quietly. Watched the way he tried to hide his tears. The way his hands balled into fists when he tried to breathe deeply to calm himself.

“Jesse.” You murmured. “I… I can’t forgive you right now. You really hurt me.” You paused. “Emotionally more than physically. I can live with you shooting me, though I’m surprised you did If I’m being honest. “ You smiled a little, but it faded quickly. “It was.. It was her and what she said that hurt the most.” You looked down. “And don’t say it isn’t true. You’re a lot more truthful when you’re drunk.”

He nodded, carefully taking your hand. “I truly am sorry, Y/N.”

“I know you are, Jesse.”

Widowmaker

“Stupide putain de putain d'idiot.” She hissed, her fist colliding with the cement wall of her room. Reaper had forced her listen to your cries of terror and pain as the men beat you senseless when you awoke.

She should have just killed you.

It would have been much more painless and merciful then what they were going to do to you.

It had been a test for her. To see if she would still willingly kill what she held dear even after all these years. This time she had failed.

She sat on her bed with her hands on her head, furiously pulling at her hair. If only she hadn’t been so stupid, so reckless, so emotional-

“Get up.” Reaper’s voice growled as he came in. He grabbed her wrist and dragged her through the base towards the cells. Towards your cell.

Towards you.

She followed willingly, already trying to devise a plan to break you free.

The two of them walked into your cell, the heavy metal door clicking shut behind you. You were chained to the wall, stripped of your clothes. She was able to see every bruise, cut and scrape on your. Fury consumed her as she thought about the men touching you, about hurting you.

Her heart cracked in two as you gave her a sad smile, one filled with love.

“So, Amelie.” One of the men purred, his gloved hand trailing over your naked body. “Reaper thought it would be best to just show you the videos of what we are going to do to your precious lover, but we thought it would make a better point to have you here in the room with us. What do you think?”

“Go to hell.” She spat angrily at the man.

“If that’s how you really feel.” He shrugged. Reaper restrained her as the man slid a knife just below your chest, a shrill scream of pain escaping your lips.

Amelie was forced to watch as the man tortured you, unable to escape Repear’s grasp.

She couldn’t bear to listen to your screams of pain, screams of mercy, your shrill voice begging for the pain to stop.

For her to help you.

But you couldn’t.

And for the first time since becoming Widowmaker, she cried.

She cried so hard, her sobs wracking her body and causing her to shake.

She continued to cry as your screams died off.

Continued to cry as the small whimpers you made went silent.

She cried as Reaper grabbed her face and slapped her hard, forcing her to look at him.

“Don’t forget who you are. Who you were made to be. Don’t forget, Widowmaker.”

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mycasandstarrs · 6 years

Text

SPN 8x11: “LARP and the Real Girl”

THEN: Charlie Bradbury. Things with Sam and Amelia officially end. Things between Dean and Benny officially end. The brothers choose each other.

The tree of pain thing.

RIP first victim. Drawn and quartered.

“China Grove” by the Doobie Brothers.

Ah, it’s been weeks.

“I know what you gave up wasn't easy.” What you gave up wasn’t easy either, Dean.

Garth! Sending them another case.

“Yeah, you’ve been Garthed.” hahaha

“Okay, we got to lose the GPS on our phones, because Garth has been tracking us, and other hunters, apparently, to assign cases.”

That’s what Bobby would do. Dean even said so.

Special Agents Taggart and Rosewood.

“FBI? You guys are quick. Haven't even got the body out yet.”

“Well, the FBI is all work…no play.”

Huh, is Dean going off of Sam’s recent attitude?

“Uh, neighbor downstairs said she got woke up in the middle of the night by the sound of horses stomping their feet and galloping. We didn't find any hoof prints. She probably heard a TV or was having a bad dream or she was high as balls.” I love this Sheriff.

haha

Lance Jacobsen.

“We want to know about the, uh – the texts you sent Ed last night.”

“I told them when they brought me in those texts weren't from me.”

“Well, your phone and Ed's phone say otherwise.”

“No, I mean, they were from me, but they weren't from me me.”

That cleared it up.

Greyfox the Mystic (Lance), Thargim the Mystical (Ed), and Moondoor.

“Oh, ye Gods! Thargrim the Difficult has fallen!” He is not taking Ed’s death well.

"Welcome to Moondoor, Michigan's largest LARPing game."

“And I thought we needed to get out more.”

Technically, they are getting out.

Dean’s right, Moondoor does look awesome.

There’s our Queen of Moons.

The tree.

OH JESUS WHAT’S HAPPENING TO HIM

RIP Lance Jacobsen. Greyfox the Mystic has fallen.

“God forbid he was contagious. I'm gonna go dip myself in hand sanitizer.” Not a bad idea at all.

Moondoor looks amazing.

“Excuse me. Hi. Uh, you are a LARPer, yeah?”

“I prefer the term ‘interactive literaturist’.”

“These aren’t fake badges.”

“Uh, yeah, they are, and they're...very good, but, um, well, the I.D. number shifted to 10 digits with, uh, two letters mixed in at the end of the year, and, uh, the seal's from last month. Really good work.”

Ha, exposed. I’m sure they stopped by Kinko’s after this.

The shot of Charlie taking off her helmet always makes my heart flutter.

Charlie is pissed.

“No, I buried myself. Then Dick Roman went down, his company belly-up, and I figure, ‘Hey, it's all good,’ and I was fine. I got my life back. Now you're here, and if you guys are here, monsters are here. Why do I have such bad luck? What am I – some kind of monster magnet? Is there such a thing as a monster magnet? You know what? Don't answer that. I don't care. What I care about is not getting my other arm broken... or dying.”

“Greyfox and Thargrim – uh, Ed and Lance – they're not missing. They're dead.”

Charlie’s army has had a string of bad luck. “ A month ago, one of my guys had both her ankles broken before battle. Before that, I had three people have hospital-worthy accidents while at home. You think there's any connection there?”

“You know, if you, uh... move your archers back and your broadswordsmen to the west...”

“Huh. Fight the warriors.”

“Yep.”

“My point, which is usually yours, is that she should get somewhere safe and get back to a normal life.” Oof, never noticed Dean telling Sam that it’s usually Sam’s thing to want people to have a safe, normal life.

“Hey, I am right here, and I want to leave.”

“Thank you.”

“But the queen...she has to stay. I mean, Sam is right. People are dying. That can't happen on my watch. And you know what? I am tired of running. I like my life here. I'm gonna stay and fight for it.”

I love you, Charlie.

Dean and Charlie: “The pornstar?”

“...the poison.”

LMAO

DEAN’S SO EXCITED TO LARP!

“Beware: this is a gateway to the future.”

Maria...aka Gholandria the Wicked.

You look so good Dean!

“You sent Sam a phantom text from his ex? Dick move, sir.”

“Yeah, not my finest hour.”

“So he found some normalcy with this chick, and now it's gone... again. Thanks to you.”

Uh, Sam did choose to not stay with Amelia.

“Yeah, well, now he's more committed than ever, so there's that. But, trust me, this life – you can't afford attachments. You just got to... let go.”

“Are we still talking about Sam, or did you break up with someone, too?”

Charlie kknneewww.

“Now, wait a second. If it wasn't for you, we would have never been able to take down Dick Roman. Out there in the real world, you are a hero.”

What a sweet interaction between Charlie and Dean.

“I'm noticing a lot of these maidens checking you out.”

“What? I can’t shut this down. It’s good to be queen.”

I mean it, Charlie is self esteem goals.

Sam’s got himself a research partner.

“I haven't seen anything like it in my travels throughout the realms, your highness.”

“All right. Well, if you think of anything, come see me in my tent. Anytime.”

OOHHH CHARLIE’S PICKING UP CHICKS. GET IT!!

The Tree of Pain.

Dean even threatens people with fake weapons.

“First time for everything, right?”

“First time for a lot of things if you want to come find my tent later.”

OH, Sam got himself a date.

“Another time.” Awww no.

Your loss.” I’d say so too.

Charlie’s sent back to safety to find Sam.

“Lead the way to the Orcs, Bolty.”

“Speak when spoken to, handmaiden.”

Uh, r u d e.

Oh boy. Charlie’s been taken.

“Our, uh, pal Boltar the chatty is getting the, uh, Shadow Orc prisoner. We're gonna do a little prisoner exchange, try to draw the king out of hiding. It was my idea.” No it wasn’t, omg.

“I’m just an I.T girl...standing in front of a monster...asking it not to kill her.”

“I just want my old life back!”

“That is all I want, as well.”

Ooh, pretty fairy.

“Now, before we exchange, a few announcements. Um, there is a peewee-league soccer playoff game tomorrow on the alpha field. We don't want to freak out the mundanes, so we got to move the Battle of Kingdoms to the beta field.” pfft.

“All right. I need real answers. This here is a real gun, see?” Dean, please.

Sam barely flinched, haha.

“Is the queen really in danger?”

“Okay, we got – there was something odd down by the creek. It's this weird tent. It's not one of ours. It's kind of creepy.”

“Why are you being so helpful all of a sudden?”

“Look, I harbor an epic crush on the queen. Maybe you could put in a good word for me when you find her.”

Yeah, that ain’t gonna work out.

“My name is Gilda. I'm from the Hollow Forest of Arkhmoor. I'm a fairy.”

“Man, someone is taking this game way too seriously.” Yeah, that’s pretty much what happened.

“Gilda, my name is Charlie Bradbury, and I am here to rescue you.” Hmm, swoon.

“Why don't you take off, Bolty? We got it from here.”

“A handmaiden and a time traveler rescue the queen? I think not, kind lady.”

Screw off, dude.

Get it!!!!

Boltar. You evil little bastard.

“Well, now what, Gerry?“

“My name is Boltar the Furious!”

Oh, he’s furious all right.

“My plan was, after getting rid of all of my competition, to win the battle tomorrow, convincing the queen that I should be her king.” EW COME ON.

“But then you two idiots showed up, and I was forced to improvise. Rescue the damsel in distress from Orcs, become king, kill you both – that'll work, too.” Oh yeah, kill her friends. That’ll make her like you.

Charlie destroys the book, Horcrux style.

WHAT A MOVE.

“I'm free of the spell. You saved me. The Hollow Forest is forever in your debt. I must return to those green hills now. I will take my former master with me. He must face a fairy tribunal for his sins.”

So he gets to go to Fairy jail?

“Call me...maybe?”

“Smell you later, bitches.”

“So, what's, uh... what's next? 'Cause no fun, right? Look, before you say anything, I – I – I get it. No amount of fun is gonna help you get over what you gave up. You just, uh... you need time, right?” AWW Dean.

“Yeah. Thanks. And you're right. Having fun won't help me. It'll help both of us. Shall we?” AWWW SAM.

WOW DEAN REALLY WENT ALL OUT

AND SAM AND HIS LITTLE PONY TAIL.

"This episode is dedicated to the men, women, elves, demigods, magi, druids and chamber pot servants who gave their lives fighting and winning for the Queen of Moons in the Battle of the Kingdoms. Go bravely into the next world, fallen soldiers."

I love this episode.

#supernatural #spn summer rewatch #spn liveblog #spn 8x11 #larp and the real girl

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sian22redux · 7 years

Text

He followed me home

Title: He Followed Me Home

Pairing: Chris Evans/Reader

Rating: T for tooth rotting fluff!

Setup: Ok..so in a rash moment of weakness I bet @theycallmebecca that my beloved Cleveland Indians could best her Boston Red Sox in the latest series. Whoever won got a drabble. It was close and an awesome game but unfortunately an L for Cleveland. So here is her choice: Chris and Reader adopt a puppy and have to decide on its name: from the Patriots. Bosox or Disney. Aannd because I can never write short it’s more of a fic. Enjoy!

Summary:

The whole world gets involved when you and your new boyfriend, Chris Evans, adopt a friend for Dodger but then can’t settle on a name.

Thanks so much to @mypatronusismrpricklepants and @arizonapoppy for their awesome help.

Chapter 1: Surprise, March 2018

“He followed me home…”

As defenses for impromptu madness go, it’s a little bit predictable. You’re standing, sheepish and flustered, with an armload of wriggling, wagging tricolor fluff while your boyfriend Chris leans against the front hall closet door.

His arms are folded across his chest. His deep ocean eyes are bleary and amused at once. It is technically his Laurel Canyon home, although your socks and books and curling iron moved in two months ago. Long enough to feel a bit like they belong, but not long enough to be certain if you’ve erred.

“Oh really.” The sound of Boston twangs as one skeptical eyebrow raises.

It was just the first thing that popped into your head. Chris pauses to take in the mammoth paws, the blunt short snout and drawls, “So SuperPuppy jogs a cool tens k’s?”

“Maybe,” you squeak. It’s not easy to shuffle one’s feet while juggling a possible hot potato in canine form.

Chris laughs and shakes his head as much at the sound as the ridiculousness of it all.

On the scale of crazy spur-of-the-moment things you’ve done this falls somewhere between late night skinny dipping in his mother’s pool (scary but fun) and filling La Jolla High’s atrium with foam (fun until you all were caught).

You sincerely hope this is closer to the first.

“Y/N, you are so full of shit.”

Behind you the door is still ajar—open to the bright spring day that lies lazily golden and blue under California sun. It’s ten o’clock and only seventy degrees. Dry with just enough heat to remind you summer will be soon, just enough breeze to lift the sweet scent of Sierra Salvia blooming beside the walk.

Perfect weather for a mid-morning jog (or a mid-morning nap if one is desperately jet-lagged two days after crossing eight time zones from damp and windy London).

Chris yawns and rubs at his eyes. His hair is mussed; his t-shirt’s askew and you can tell from the creases on his cheek that he’s been crashed on the man-eating white leather couch. Probably with Dodger on his chest.

While you’ve been out burning off the prickling excitement of reunion after two weeks apart, the pair of them, inseparable since the moment Chris walked through the door, have been busy catching zzz’s.

You smile wanly at the dark smudges under those dark and ridiculously heavy lashes.

He so needs it. The press for Red Sea Diving has been brutal tacked onto Avengers 4.

“Dodger missed you while you were away,” you offer by way of explanation.

This is true, but not perhaps entirely the whole point. The pair of you had talked about the problem just the night before. How Dodger pined terribly for Chris while he was in South Africa. How you two had whispered the word ‘airport’ but still Dodger had gone crazy when he saw the latest suitcase coming out. That it might be a good idea to get him another friend; a constant pal when he has to shuttle between L.A. and Massachusetts; crashing for months at time with Chris’s sister’s kids.

At least the heavens had aligned for the latest trip. You’d dog sat and watched the house, spoiled him with lots of love, but still Dodger moped, ignored his ratty favorite blanket and had to be coaxed to eat. Change was hard for animals.

But even so, this follow through might be just a teensy bit premature.

How do you explain? You’d finished breakfast, thought it a good idea to give the two best buds space to chill and took yourself off for a longer run. Turned right instead of left along Mulholland and wound up outside Ace of Hearts with its ‘Dog of the day” sign plastered on the window. So cute, and so in need.

You’d given in, asked to see their featured rescue and wound up outside puppy’s cage, getting a hopeful shy wag and your fingers licked through the metal bars.

How could you resist? Puppy looked small and alone and so very sweet.

Isn’t this supposed to be one of the things Chris loves about you?? That you are ridiculously spontaneous while he struggles not to overthink every little thing?

“I didn’t plan it,” you admit. “It just kind of happened.” Chris’s eyebrows rise even higher.

“Y/N.”

You lick your lips nervously and try again. “I…” you start but don’t get a chance to explain because fifteen pounds of black and white and brown fluffball wriggles harder in your arms. You’re standing in runners and shades, long brown hair pulled up under a sweaty baseball cap. At your feet are two shopping bags from Village Pet and in the waistband of your jogging shorts are the rumpled adoption papers

Dodger, that pure soul of joyousness, is not helping things. He’s excitedly jumping up on his hind legs, pawing and yipping, trying to get closer to the pup. The little guy whimpers mournfully. You lift your shoulders, struggling to hold him a little higher, crooning softly to reassure. The smells and sounds are new. There’s a strange dog who is trying to say hi and a big, broad, bearded man who is leaning over to inspect him.

It’s overwhelming and a bit startling to go straight from a 2x4 metal cage to an open expanse of cool and white.

And Dodger’s idea of friendly can sometimes be a little much

“Come on pal, leave off.” Chris grabs at the red collar in tawny fur, pulls the mutt back, clamps his knees around the wriggling and whining, overly enthusiastic host. The ghost of a beginning grin on his handsome face fades quickly to a frown of concern.

Puppy is still scared. He’s shivering silently in fear, trying to hide himself underneath your chin.

You can almost hear Chris Evan’s enormous heart melting on the spot.

“Hey, it’s ok… don’t be afraid,” he says, softly, hunching his huge shoulders down to make himself a little less imposing. “Don’t mind this big, crazy lug.” A free hand that knows something about anxiety reaches out to stroke the black wavy fur, caressing it slowly, in time to slow easy breaths, resting gently against the little warm body until the shivers ease.

Chris, thrilled at his feat, smiles wide and looks up underneath your brim. “Boy or girl?”

“Boy. He’s a Bernerdoodle...” you say as if this explains everything.

“A what?” Chris is chuckling, quieter than usual so as not to startle the poof of dark wavy fur. He snickers, clutching lightly at his pec, imitating Ned Flanders nasal accent perfectly. "Homer, I can see your doodle…"

“Chris!”

You roll your eyes elaborately, thinking not for the first time that omg this man is such a kid. Yes doodle is slang for penis. It is also a recognized crossbreed.

You shake your head and very very carefully shove him with your hip. “Shuddup. A Bernerdoodle is a Bernese Mountain Dog and Poodle cross. You shouldn’t tease the little guy. He’s had a really rocky start. Was just busted out of a puppy mill. He’s the last of his litter. No one wanted him because his markings aren’t symmetrical.

They aren’t. Puppy has two white paws, one fore, one aft; a white blaze on his chest and a white stripe down his nose. His eyebrows are tan, as is half his muzzle. Quirky and utterly adorable. You give him a gentle hug and a small pink tongue licks at the bottom of your chin.

Chris leans close and wrinkles up his nose as he too, gets a lick. “Awww. Sorry dude.”

You shift the warm furry load at your hip. A moth flutters past and Chris looks up, startled, realizing belatedly you are still standing in front of the open door.

“Whatever he is, he’s a cutie that’s for sure. Bring him in.”

He lets Dodger go and swings the white oak door shut, picks up the shopping bags while you walk over to the couch, balancing the awkward bundle of big paws and floppy ears and tail. So much for cardio, it is suddenly resistance day.

You lower yourself gingerly to the deep expanse of butter-soft, not-claw-proof leather as Chris slides across, dropping the bags to one side. The space is light and bright and so relaxing: white walls and furniture, low rough wood tables and dark grey carpet. A haven from the bustle and noise of life.

“You, too. Sit,” Chris says, pointing a finger until Dodger finally masters his inner zen to settle down beside your knee. The older dog is upright, tongue lolling and one ear cocked. A picture of controlled enthusiasm. His amber eyes keep flicking from puppy back to Chris.

Puppy nestles into your lap and makes himself at home, sniffing at the air and taking in members of a new pack. You are clearly alpha female, chief cuddler and source of safety. Chris is the alpha male: one pat and the little guy rolls over to show his belly for a rub.

Chris obliges; bends down to tickle warm pink spotted skin and gets licked excitedly on his chin for his efforts. “Ow.” he announces, laughing and holding a hand across his nose

The white milk teeth are sharp. And curious. “Watch it little fella.

You smile because obviously Puppy’s starting to feel a little braver now but the sight of him mouthing earnestly on Chris’s offered fingers makes you wonder: how does one keep a puppy from chewing up the furniture? You hadn’t thought beyond getting him safely home. The expensive designer to-the-trade originals do already have a few puncture holes--Dodger is rambunctious but he wasn’t a baby when he came home. It’s been years since you had a pet. Your old dog, a white heinz 57 collie-samoyed mix with the honest-to-goodness name of Buck passed away your second year of college. He lived to be seventeen. You can’t even remember what it was like to break in a puppy but there must be somebody around to give you tips.

“We need to set some water out for him and the new wee pads.” you note. He has been so good. Didn’t piddle once on the Uber ride home, or even when he was scared.

Chris nods, unerringly reaching to scratch behind soft and silky ears. Puppy cocks his head and whines. “Check. In a sec. Does he have a name?”

“No,” you admit. “The breeder had shitty records. At Ace they called him by his number. They think he’s about ten weeks old, just enough to be separated from his dam. I bought some food and stuff.” you add, waving in the general direction of the bags. There’s a blue collar to match Dodger’s and a new leash, a comb, smaller steel bowls. Hopefully they show you weren’t completely off your head, totally mesmerized by dark liquid eyes and a cute as a button nose.

You blush, remembering the excitement of signing for him, holding him for the first time: all pink toe beans and soft silky fur and new puppy smell. Pure heaven. And the right thing to do, give a home to a poor little abandoned soul in need of loving.

(No ticking clocks, here. Nope. None at all.)

Puppy whines and sits straight up. Coughs once. Then twice. It’s a huffing, wheezy sort of hack that shakes the little dark body shake from pink nose to white tail tip.

Chris looks over at you alarmed. “Is he ok?”

This time it’s you that melts a little. Chris worries. Always. Empathy, wrapped in caring, wrapped in genuine unselfishness.

“He will be,” you explain, biting nervously at your lip. “Just needs a little time. He’s a rescue from a puppy mill. The whole litter had pneumonia and he almost didn’t make it.”

“Oh fuck.” Chris’s growl is quiet but you know he feels about animal abuse the way you do. Enraged.

You pull the adoption papers out and pass them over. Chris scans them, turning them over and checking the certificate from the shelter and its vet. All is in order. Case # A201206 has been dewormed. Had all shots. Weeks of Baytril for infection and supplements. Has been off his feed because of illness. Is paper trained.

“He’s done his shots and antibiotics, but needs a special diet ‘til he’s all better.”

Chris is nodding, taking it all in, trading the pages back to you for a now braver little guy. You reach down to pull a water bowl and a new blanket and Kong toy out of the first paper bag.

Puppy sits on the soft grey flannel of Chris’s sweat pants and leans against his chest, raising up one enormous paw to ask for attention. Chris catches it in his own equally enormous hand and lets his blue gaze slide to the rubber chew toy that is easily twice as big as your fist.

“How big is he gonna get?”

You flush. This is the tricky part. “Ummm, the lady said they don’t think he’ll get much bigger than seventy pounds.”

“Seventy pounds?!”

Incredulous, Chris looks down at Dodger obediently flopped on the floor and back up to the pup. Dodger is lean and wiry, all muscle and energy; straight flat fur. Puppy is a small mountain of dark wavy coat, paws not quite like dinner plates. Hefty and solid. He’s sitting placidly, taking up a good half of Chris’s lap at less than three months old.

“Dodger’s only thirty pounds,” he frowns.

“I know,” you nod, “but his father was the Bernese. They’re more than a hundred.”

Chris chokes. “Jesuz, Y/N, that’s a pony not a dog!”

You hold your breath. This is a gamble. Chris is obviously a bit thrown by how big the pup will grow. You can see the doubt begin to whirl like a cyclone in his head. “I don’t know…”

You slide closer, up underneath the long, ridiculously muscled arm laid along the couch’s back, reach out to stroke lovingly at his cheek. A big dog is a big commitment, but from everything you know it fits with his big, golden heart. “Chris, I feel like this meant to be. You’ve said yourself that if you were an animal you’d be a St. Bernard. He’s like your kindred spirit. Bernese are also big and loyal and loving. They adore kids. But they get a little anxious in new and different settings.”

“So you’re just like me, hunh?” he says, a little skeptically, lifting the little guy with a firm grip around the middle. “Seventy pounds. I’d be doing curls with you…”

Puppy, oblivious to the moment, tries to gnaw on his largest knuckle.

Doubt starts to curl low below your heart.

Usually if Chris is into something new, your bouncy, exuberant Labrador of a boyfriend will be all over it. Keen on it right away. This time there’s an unsettled crease of worry between his brows and Chris is frowning. Perhaps you hadn’t thought this through? This a puppy and a larger dog. Perhaps you hadn’t considered how much more work one seems. There’s a press tour to do for Avengers 3 and 4. US press for Red Sea Diving. Possibly another Broadway run. There’s a lot on Chris’s plate in the coming year but you’d just felt so bad for Dodger missing his big guy while he was half a world away.

And, if you had to be honest with yourself, you admit a needy pup would keep you little more occupied too. Your job, back-of-house production, keeps you mostly in L.A, tied down and unable to go on tour. It’s out of the Press’s eye which has its good and bad at once. As far as much of the world knows you don’t exist. You’re a name on the end credits. Known as a studio employee, someone no one bats an eyelid to see Chris with. A colleague. No biggie.

For the first months of your relationship it was actually kind of great. Chris, beyond tired with the relentless attention messing with romances, treated it like a game. You can go out and no prying idiots think you’re his date. No one’s calling you a bitch on Twitter. No one’s staking out your house. Above the table top you are talking about scheduling and below his toes are running up your calf. Hidden. Secret. Just for you two. It’s a thrill and nervous making all at once.

You’re happy to have found the one awesome, caring, gorgeous guy in Hollywood who doesn’t brush his hair more often than you do. Doesn’t tell you to keep out of his better side. Who isn’t jealous and gets your irregular, have-to-stay-at-the-last-minute schedule. Who shares your manic love of baseball and the Pats.

But you’re a little unsure of where this is going. Sure he asked you to move in, but both of his best friends have been missing Chris so much. The frequent long distance trips make it hard. Each time you are together it is as if you are on vacation: a treat, easy and relaxed but it’s also always reset mode. Constantly catching up. Two steps forward and one back. Texting every day is great but it’s hard to properly communicate. Case in point: today, when you made a snap decision without discussing first, without thinking that he’s about to go on tour for weeks.

“Sorry….” you admit in a tiny, plaintive voice. “We do have a week to take him back,” You start to pull away, thinking you’ve overstepped the line.

“Hey…hey, no it’s ok.” Chris grabs your hand to pull you closer. Plants a kiss on the top of your sun-faded Bosox cap. He sighs. “This was a really good idea. I might be crazy but I’ll make an appointment tomorrow for him to see Dr. Beltran.”

“Really?” You sit straight up. Dr. Beltran is Dodger’s veterinarian. He experienced and no-nonsense. A pro. You’ve met him once, taking Dodger in for heart-worm meds

“He can stay? You’re not mad at me?”

“Of course I’m not mad, Y/N.” Chris’s spare hand reaches down to play, as it always does at home, with your long ponytail. Relaxed. Easy. Intimate. It sends a shiver down your spine.

“How can anyone resist this face?” he says, tickling Puppy under the chin. It’s true. The little guy’s face is the sweetest thing—a black nose with a pale dot in the middle, bright dark eyes and the most adorable pink tongue sticking out. You’re lost, the both of you.

Chris offers Puppy a thumb to chew and grins. “I was just surprised. Needed to think it through is all. Next time you decide to add to our world, can you give a guy a little warning?”

“You seemed so tired and I didn’t want to wake you,” you start to explain, but then suddenly his words sink in.

Our world.

“What do you….?”

You stop and take in the pure unfettered delight on Chris’s face. He knows he has surprised you. ‘Our world’ means this is for keeps. Serious. He wants you to be an official couple. It’s overwhelming, and unexpected. Perhaps the constant roadblocks are wearing on him too.

Your heart does a heavy flip, somersaulting with giddy happiness.

Chris smiles, drops a gentle kiss to your lips, holds it until the pup begins to squirm.

“Babe, this last tour, oh fuck, I missed you so so much. London’s great but I couldn’t wait to get back and be with you. Knowing you and Dodge and this little guy are happy and at home, here,—that will mean the world.”

You pull away but not too far, lay your head down upon his shoulder, so choked up you don’t know what to say. Going public seems like a giant step. Your bosses, the Russo brothers, know about it, as do both families and close friends—but they’re sworn to secrecy. Chris is gunshy of the media this time—how Jenny was treated really hurt and he wanted things to grow away from the harsh glare of publicity.

You take a deeper, unsteady breath. This is truly what you want but can you make it work?

Chris, as always in tune to you, gives you a soft quick hug and elects to change the conversation. He stretches, holding one big warm hand under puppy and the other up toward the ceiling. “Man you were right about the tired though. Shit. I am getting old. The flights are getting harder.”

“If you’re old, what does that make me?” you ask. You are almost, not quite, two years ahead.

“Ancient.”

He ducks a tastefully neutral, well-used, toss cushion that flies past his head. Dodger’s head pops up. If pillows are flying and his human is stretching then a game of tag might be just ahead. He gets to his feet, yips excitedly but instead of playtime he gets wobbly curiosity. Chris sets the puppy on the floor. The little guy promptly lunges for a shoe, trips over his own feet and tumbles snout-first into deep grey pile.

You all laugh. Puppy looks up at the sound and you could swear he grins. This new development is surprising but not scary. He sneezes, rights himself again, sits down with a blink and barks.

“Woof!” It is a surprisingly deep sounding voice.

“Ho boy, has he got a set of lungs.” Chris is laughing. Puppy seems very pleased with himself. A few minutes cautious exploration brings him over to the wide back windows. Outside the morning is clouding over. It will keep the heat from climbing and for a miracle it might just rain. Puppy wags his tail and barks at a passing bird. Dodger stands sentinel behind, tail waving slowly, resident expert at communing placidly with the neighbourhood.

Pup looks to him and back. “Boof!” Nope, the new kid on the block isn’t going to get a rise out of Dodger. Birds and bees and butterflies are people, too.

They seem fine to let be left alone for a just minute, so you rise and set about getting organized. A second dish of water goes beside Dodger’s in the kitchen. Pad are laid beside the back door. The new blanket is draped beside Dodger’s wicker basket. You set the ingredients for puppy lunch on the countertop and pull the rudiments of a sandwich from the bursting fridge

From the couch you can hear Chris’s stomach grumble loudly. He may be exhausted but his stomach thinks it’s almost time for English Tea.

“Come on, you never ate,” you say, pulling him up and guiding him over to the kitchen. “Lets get the little guy’s space all set. He’ll need to eat soon and then go out. We can play with him outside and then it will be time for a nap.”

Over by the windows Dodger has brought puppy a bedraggled, one-eared teddy he uses for a friend. They play tug of war, shaking their heads and mock growling at each other, the pup repeatedly losing his grip but bouncing forward to catch a leg again. It’s hilarious and sweet. Big brother playing with the little guy, but just when you think they’ll start another round the little guy plonks down on his butt, opens his jaws wide and yawns. And coughs.

“Hey…”

He’s scooped up into Chris’s big strong arms and nestled against that wide, sleep-inducing chest. A whine turns into another mighty yawn, the baby is getting tired. It’s been a busy day and he isn’t quite over his sickness yet.

You wrap your arms around them both and Chris drops a kiss onto your head. He smells like spice and soap and Dodger and the warm-cinnamon-bun perfection of new puppy smell. Intoxicating.

As you brush your fingers lazily across his back he grins, folds you under his shoulder where you fit the best. There’s a twinkle in his eye. One you’ve missed for two whole weeks.

“How long does a puppy sleep?”

#@theycallmebecca #chris evans x reader #I lost the bet #but this was so much fun #puppies #dodger

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juggieheadcoopers-blog · 7 years

Note

Hi!! I've spent the last few hours just reading your work and omg I love the way you interpret the prompts! You're making the long hiatus so much better already and I can't wait to read more! I have a prompt request as well: friends with benefits to realizing they like each other (with some angst added in!) thank you!!! :)

First of all thank you so much, that’s so sweet of you! Second of all, here it is! This is more playful than angsty but I still hope it’s okay!

AU: Jughead never went to Riverdale High and never became friends with Betty and the gang the way they were supposed to. Archie, Jughead, and Betty were close in middle school, but once they parted ways and Jughead followed in his father’s footsteps of becoming a Serpent, their relationship was never the same.

–

Betty brushed past Cheryl Blossom as she hurried her way down the freshly-mowed lawn of Riverdale High’s courtyard, nearly snagging her baby blue sweater on one of Cheryl’s particularly sharp insect brooches as their shoulders slammed into one another.

“B, where the hell have you been?” Veronica called to her from their usual picnic table at the end of the quad, her prized set of pearls shining elegantly in the mid-afternoon sunlight.

Ignoring the icy glare that Cheryl tossed in her direction, Betty maneuvered her way through the crowd of chatting classmates to slip her way onto the bench of the picnic table next to Kevin, just as Veronica turned to narrow her eyes at Betty. “I’ve had to listen to Cheryl’s incessant ramblings regarding the subpar quality of her brand new Louboutins for the past half hour and trust me, when I reach the point of boredom beyond repair talking about designer shoes, you know there’s a problem.”

“Sorry, something came up,” Betty mumbled, shrugging off her pale pink backpack and placing it on the wooden surface in front of her.

“There have been a lot of things ‘coming up’ lately,” Veronica pointed out. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say our little, not-so-innocent Elizabeth Cooper has a man in her life she’s been hiding from us.”

“Yeah, right,” Betty scoffed, unzipping her bag and rummaging through its contents to find the salt and vinegar chips she didn’t eat at lunch. “You know how terrible I am at keeping secrets. Remember your surprise birthday party last year?”

“How could I forget? You asked me to come over to help you with an English paper,” Veronica recounted the event in question, shaking her head in shame at Betty’s failed attempt at such a classic form of surprise. “The day Betty Cooper asks Veronica Lodge for homework advice, you know there has to be something else going on.”

Betty’s lips curled into a slight smile, her expression distant as she reached into the bag of chips and popped one into her mouth, repeating this process for several minutes without blinking or acknowledging that there were other people sitting at the table with her.

“Kind of like now,” Veronica mumbled, waving a perfectly manicured set of nails in front of her in an attempt to snap her out of the trance she had fallen into. “Look at her face, Kev. There’s something wrong with it.”

“You’re right, V,” Kevin concurred, leaning in close and tilting Betty’s chin towards him with a flick of his thumb. “There’s an actual smile on it. Hell must have frozen over.”

“Hey, I smile!” Betty defended herself, her too-tight ponytail nearly smacking Kevin in the face as she whirled around to look from Veronica, to Kevin, and back again.

“Not since Polly-” Kevin started to explain, but before he could get the words out, Veronica lunged across the table to place a hand over his mouth, nearly knocking various textbooks and papers onto the grass in the process.

“Shhh!” Veronica quieted him. “Kevin, we agreed that bringing up such events should be handled as if one were at Hogwarts and in the position of saying the name Voldemort - you just don’t do it!”

“Sorry,” Kevin shrank back onto his spot on the bench. “Let me rephrase. You’ve been a little down the past few months, but lately-”

“You’re happier than Kevin during a Brad Pitt movie marathon,” Veronica finished for him, her eyes dancing wildly as she leaned in to point a finger in Betty’s direction. “And that can only mean one thing.”

“Betty Cooper: number one in her class, editor of the Blue and Gold and all around girl next door, is getting a little ‘Fifty Shades of Freaky’ with one of Riverdale High’s finest young bachelors,” Kevin concluded, his arms crossing in front of his chest as if he were proud of himself for solving such a complicated riddle.

“I am not!” Betty protested. “You two have way too much time on your hands if you’re speculating why I’ve been smiling more lately.”

“What kind of friends would we be if we didn’t notice such things,” Kevin pointed out, his gaze suddenly leaving his friends to focus on the parking lot in front of them. “Kind of like how I’ve noticed Jughead Jones’ massive biceps lately, holy hot and bothered Rolling Stone-meets-Abercrombie you can actually see them bulging through that leather jacket.”

The boy in question stepped out of his midnight-black 1968 Plymouth Roadrunner, his dark hair falling effortlessly over his eyes as he moved to shut the driver’s side door.

“Joining the Southside Serpents has really sat well with his upper body muscles,” Veronica admired, her mouth hanging open slightly as he pulled out a cigarette and lighter from his jacket pocket like he was plucked straight out a scene from the Outsiders. “Too bad he doesn’t go here anymore, I would love to run my hands up and down those-”

“Veronica!” Betty’s eyes went wide as she turned to glare at her friend, whose mouth was practically watering as she took in Jughead leaning against the classic car and taking a drag from his cigarette like she was watching the most sensual thing she had ever laid eyes on. “Last time I checked you still have a boyfriend, or have you forgotten about our good pal Archie Andrews. You know, captain of the football team, lead singer of his very own rock band, Riverdale High honor student. Ring any bells?”

“Oh please, I’m allowed to window shop as long as I resist throwing anything into my basket,” Veronica muttered, picking up her copy of The Sun Also Rises and fanning herself with it, even though it was a perfectly cool fall afternoon that didn’t even come close to meriting such actions.

“That’s wrong on so many levels,” Betty mumbled, pushing her half-eaten bag of chips away from her and wiping her greasy fingers down the front of her sweater.

“What’s Jughead doing here anyway?” Kevin wondered. “I thought he and Archie stopped talking once he moved schools a few years ago.”

“He’s here to see me actually,” Betty admitted, turning in her spot on the bench to look at Jughead for the first time since he had pulled into the parking lot. “He was the best writer we had at the the junior newspaper in middle school and no one’s ever come close to filling his shoes, so he’s helping me out a few times a week after school at the Blue and Gold.”

“You sure he’s not helping you out with a few other things too?” Veronica wiggled her eyebrows at Betty suggestively, her lips creeping up into an amused smile as Betty narrowed her eyes at her.

“Just friends, Veronica,” Betty assured her. “Jughead isn’t Archie’s favorite person right now and after everything that’s happened with their fathers - I just - I wouldn’t do that to him, okay?”

“Whatever you say, B,” Veronica shrugged, still looking unconvinced as she reached underneath the table to retrieve her cheer bag. “Okay, I have to go find Cheryl before River Vixens practice so I can warn her that the choreography she’s been throwing at us is too 90′s cheer routine and not enough Beyonce video like we were going for.”

“Yeah, and I have to go witness the bloodbath of bitchy, yet impressively clever insults that is sure to occur as a result so we’ll see you later, Betty,” Kevin followed Veronica’s lead as she made her way away from the picnic table, the giddiness in his expression made even more evident by the enthused squeal escaping his lips as he bent down to pick up his backpack.

“Bye, guys,” Betty called out to them, shaking her head in amusement as she watched them round the corner to head back into the school.

Betty kept her gaze focused on the chemistry textbook resting open in front of her as she saw the movement coming from the parking lot out of the corner of her eye. Jughead had pushed off his car and was slowly making his way onto the sidewalk leading up to the courtyard. Her breath caught in her throat as he took a step closer. And another. And an-

“And then there was one,” Jughead announced, his leather-clad sleeve brushing the soft fabric of her sweater as he slid his way onto the picnic table next to her. “What’s it like without chatter mouth one and two attached to your hip?”

“I don’t know,” Betty sat up straight, turning slightly on the bench to quirk a challenging eyebrow in his direction. “What’s it like without your manhood to back up that newfound edginess that drives all the girls crazy? Wanna find out?”

“Betty Cooper,”Jughead beamed, one leg tucking underneath itself so that he could turn his body to face hers completely. “Throwing the banter back at me like we’re in a 1940′s black and white screwball comedy. I like it.”

“You’re early,” Betty noticed, her eyes focusing back on the periodic table displayed on the inside cover of the chemistry book.

“I ditched the last two periods,” Jughead shrugged nonchalantly, scooping up the abandoned bag of chips on the table and tossing back a handful into his mouth. “I figured that I’ve already learned as much as I needed to know about 17th Century England and the Taming of the Shrew to pass with at least a C in both history and English and still function in the real world like an adequately intelligent human being so why not skip out early and come see you?”

Jughead crumpled up the now-empty chip bag and tossed it behind him, missing the trashcan completely as he looked back to watch it roll onto the grass. Leaning in close, Jughead rubbed a hand on her knee resting underneath the table, his breath tickling the exposed skin of her neck and nearly causing a thrilled giggle to escape her lips.

“Jug,” Betty warned, reaching down to remove the hand slowly creeping its way up her thigh and turning to give him a leveled glare. “We agreed, remember?”

“You agreed,” Jughead corrected. “I said friends with benefits was a dated form of emotional torture that benefits neither party in any meaningful way.”

“Isn’t that the point?” Betty reminded him. “To not get attached in a way that lets you mean something to the other person?”

“I think that ship has sailed,” Jughead admitted, his eyes flicking to hers with a vulnerable state of truth-turned-worry when he realized that she might night have felt the same way. “At least on my part anyways.”

“You know that we can’t be anything more than what we are,” Betty explained. “At least not right now.”

“Because Archie blames me for my father’s involvement in his father’s shooting and he would love nothing more than to see me strung up on the mantle of his nice and cozy family-sized home,” Jughead recalled, his eyes rolling backwards dramatically sliding his leg back underneath the table and facing the empty set of picnic tables across the courtyard. “Yeah, you said that when we first started - whatever you want to call this. Doesn’t mean I understand it. And it doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

“Juggie,” Betty whispered, resisting the urge to reach out and caress his cheek affectionately the way she had grown accustomed to since they had started their relationship nearly eight weeks before.

“You know how I feel about you, Betty,” Jughead told her, his eyes softening slightly as his head turned to smile weakly down at her lips. “And I think that if you were being completely honest with yourself, you know exactly how you feel about me too.”

Betty knew he was right. She knew that she felt more than just lust, coupled with the added bonus of orchestrating their clandestine meetings, for the boy from the Southside who was more than just his leather jacket and tough demeanor. But she couldn’t risk her friendship with either boy in her life by making things official. Not yet.

“This is the way things have to be right now,” Betty sighed. “At least until Mr. Andrews gets out the hospital and everything just - settles down. Please, Jughead. I don’t want to lose you. But I don’t want to lose him either.”

Betty held Jughead’s gaze, her bottom lip jutting out slightly as her teeth automatically reached out to bite down on the tender skin there, a habit she had formed around the time she had started seeing Jughead in a little-more-than-just-friends kind of way.

“God, why do you have to do that thing with your bottom lip,” Jughead mumbled, his eyes flicking down to her pink lips with a fleck of longing in his gaze. “You know that drives me insane.”

“I know,” Betty beamed, her eyebrow quirking flirtatiously up in his direction. “Why do you think I do it so often?”

“Okay, if we’re still playing by these ridiculous rules you’ve set in place then we better get to the Blue and Gold room because I’m feeling the overwhelming urge to kiss you,” Jughead breathed, his heart beating wildly as Betty’s leg brushed against his, making his palms sweat in the best way possible. “Now.”

“Then what are we waiting for,” Betty leaned in close to Jughead as if she were going to meet her lips to his, but swung her legs out from underneath the picnic table at the last second and stood in front of him with her hands on her hips. “Race you.”

“You’re on.” Jughead grabbed Betty’s bag off the table and sprinted after her, not even noticing that there had been a figure lurking in the shadows who had witnessed their intimate exchange with a devious smile plastered on her flaming red lips. Turning on her less-than-adequate Louboutin heel, Cheryl let her waist-length red hair swing playfully behind her as she sauntered her way to cheer practice, already scheming and plotting how she was going to use this juicy new development to her advantage.

#bughead fanfiction #bughead #betty and jughead fanfiction #betty and jughead #juggiecoopfanfic #betty x jughead #betty cooper #jughead jones #riverdale fanfiction #requests

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jacquelineshyde · 7 years

Note

kill me with 34

OMG! What the fuck is wrong with you, man? D: Now in revenge, i’ll write other kind of dying.

34. In a pool of your own blood

ff.net // AO3

Hyde’s day had been a nightmare.

Not only Kelso and Brooke thought it was a good day to have a big fight and leave their eldest daughter with him so they could resolve their crap alone, but the latest album shipment to Grooves was completely wrong. The distributor had screwed up his order, and he was the one who had to fix it.

He hated this part of being The Boss. He tried his damn best, but on days like this he wished he could still be the lazy kid in the basement. But nope.

Nowdays he was the owner of a growing chain of music stores that also supported small bands, giving them a chance to get heard. He was also a very stressed-out-at-the-moment husband and a very worried-for-the-past-week father.

“Uncle Hyde?” Betsy said. She was almost twelve-years-old and got bored easily. “Are we going to your house soon? I want to see Ally!”

“Almost,” he said and taped his complaint to the distribution company.

“You said that, like, a hundred hours ago!”

“Quit complaining, or I’ll take you to your grandma’s.”

“Ugh!” She lowered her head to his desk with a thump! When she looked up again, she had a red mark on her forehead, and he smiled. No way he was telling her about it. “What if I take the bus to your house?” she said.

“Nope.”

“Argh!”

He shared her frustration. He wanted to be home, too. Jackie was there, hopefully relaxing and enjoying her last maternity leave. Their eight-year-old son and five-year-old daughter were helping her take care of their youngest, seven-month-old Alison.

But in his office at Grooves, he couldn’t relax. Jackie’s calendar was an open sore stinging his brain. It wouldn’t close until she wrote a giant P under one of the days of the week. Any day of the week, as long as it was soon. “Uncle Hyde?” Betsy said as the office phone rang.

“Mmm?”

“Are you almost done?”

“Almost.”

“You said that three years ago!”

“I really am gonna take you to your grandma’s!”

“ARGH!”

He looked at his goddaughter for a moment, a smirk on his face, before answering the phone. Grooves had two numbers, one for the store itself and one for his office, which meant this call could only be from family or important contacts. Eleven o'clock told him the caller was his son, Dave.

“Hey, buddy,” Hyde said.

“Dad, mommy says you have to come home, or she won’t leave the bathroom ever again.”

“What?” He must’ve sounded strange because Betsy stared at him and blinked a few times.

“Mommy’s having a crisis in the bathroom,” Dave said.

“What?” Hyde repeated and shifted in his desk chair. Dave was always calm while talking, even when he was in trouble or reporting that one of his sisters was sick. He didn’t need to practice Zen; he was born Zen. “Dave,” Hyde said, “what’s going on?”

“Not much. Mommy doesn’t want to get out the bathroom because she’s going to traumatize me forever.” He sighed. “She wants you to come home.”

“Why?”

“Don’t know, but get here fast. Alison wakes up in, like, two hours or something. There’s no boob to give her.”

Hyde shook his head. “Dave, please, never say that in front of your mother.”

“There’s no titty to give her.”

“David.”

“Father.”

Just for a second, Hyde wondered how this kid got such personality. Then his giggle, loud and annoying, childish but full of mischief, reminded him who his mother was.

And who his father was.

“You sure she didn’t tell you what the fuss is about?” Hyde said.

“Nope.”

Why was his son such a little prick? “Good. Then … do you know what the fuss is about?”

“Well, not really,” Dave said. “But the chair’s got blood all over it.”

“WHAT!?”

Silence greeted Hyde when he opened the front door to his house—until his eldest daughter, Layla, spotted Betsy beside him.

“Beeeetsssyyyyyyyy!” Layla ran into her cousin’s arms, and Betsy hugged her when Hyde stepped inside and closed the door.

He sighed, looking at them, then smiled. The house seemed just as he left it this morning: peaceful. But neither Jackie nor Dave were anywhere to be seen. He checked the dining room first. One of the chairs was missing, and Dave’s statement about blood being “all over it” became apparent. Red droplets stained the rug where the chair used to be.

The door to the backyard scraped open. He glanced toward it. Betsy and Layla were dashing to the dog, who waited for them outside with his tail wagging.

They’d be safe in the backyard, especially with the dog. Page would bark if the kids needed Hyde’s attention, and he rushed up the stairs to the second floor.

Maybe Jackie was safe, too. If Dave was able to keep his cool, how much danger could she be in … unless she’d kept the truth from him. That sounded a lot like her. She was capable of acting fine as she broke down inside, just to ensure their kid’s happiness remained intact.

“Dave?” he called in the hallway.

“In your room!” Dave shouted back, and Hyde followed his voice.

The master bedroom’s door was opened and by the bathroom’s door, his kid was sitting, slumped in Hyde’s armchair and wearing a frown too deep for his age. He cared as deeply for his mother, as much as Hyde did.

“She’s been there for almost an hour,” Dave said and gestured at the bathroom.

“Just a second, man.” Hyde walked to Allison’s cradle, making sure the baby was okay.

The girl was deep asleep, no clue about the small drama around her. He smiled, caressing her small head and walking to the bathroom’s door. Sighing, he looked at his son first, who only shrugged, then knocked at the door.

“Steven?” Jackie said through the door. Hyde tried to open it, jostling the nob, but he stopped when she shouted, “NO!”

“Jackie, whatever it is, I can’t help if you don’t let me in.”

“Get David out of the room; then you can open the door.”

“What?” Hyde looked at their son, who shrugged. “Jackie? Are you okay?”

“NO!” she shouted again, and Dave looked at him with urgency. “TAKE DAVID AWAY AND GET IN HERE!”

Hyde smiled apologetically. “Sorry, buddy. Your mom seems to be a little stressed.”

“Dad, she sounds like Aunt Donna.”

“I HEARD YOU, DAVID!”

“Okay, never say that in front of your aunt,” Hyde said, but Dave only nodded. “Make sure Layla’s okay, would ya? Betsy’s downstairs with her.”

“All right.” Dave went to the bedroom door but didn’t leave. “Dad? Make sure mommy’s okay.”“Will do, pal.”

“I love you too, David!” Jackie shouted, and Dave’s cheeks went pink. He bolted from the room, and Hyde looked at the bathroom door again. “Steven?” Jackie said.

“Doll, what is going on?”

“I have good news and bad news.”

“Okay…”

“C-come in.”

He opened the door. Jackie was sitting inside the bathtub, wearing only her underwear. Her eyes were red and puffy, and she looked at him like she was a scared puppy. He suppressed a grin at the sight. His impulse was to pull her into his arms, but the room’s smell warned him to stay put, unless he wanted Jackie to kill him.

“So,” she said and hugged her legs to her chest, “I’m not pregnant.”

“Holy shit!” He laughed, unable to hold back his relief. “Look at this! It’s a crime scene!”

“Shut up! Just get the damn pads!”

He cupped his mouth but continued to laugh. It was the first time in over a week he’d had any laughter to piss her off with. When she’d first told him her period was late, they looked at each other for three panicked seconds. Then Alison started to cry, and the real world kept them moving, even while they waited for their luck to turn.

Jackie had always wanted three kids, no less and no more. She’d sounded so practiced when she first explained why: “If one of our children is a genius, the second one will feel bad if she isn’t. So we need to have a third one, who’ll also be of average intelligence. That way we can have one happy genius and two happy dummies!’

But now she didn’t seem prepared at all but ashamed, and he was having the worst time of his life, helpless to stop laughing at the scene in front of him—and about everything that had happened since they thought a fourth kid was on the way.

“Y-you don’t have pads?” he managed to say. “ So—so that’s why you made our son call me at the office–”

Water hit him in the face and cut off his laughter. Jackie had grabbed the tub’s hose and sprayed him.

“What the fuuuck?” He blinked water from his eyes, shook it from his hair.

“I have never, ever given you any problems with my period until today!” she said. “Now be a good husband and go get my pads!”

Another wave of laughter hit him. The situation was too damn hilarious. The tub wasn’t even stained with that much blood, but she pointed the hose at him again, and he put up his hands. “I’m going, I’m going!”

The bathroom fell into silence, and an excited murmur from downstairs reached them. The dog was clearly in the house again. He should’ve told Layla and Betsy to keep Page outside. Jackie didn’t like the dog being around the baby.

He sighed and walked toward the bathtub. His shirt and face were wet, and when he sat down on the bathroom tile, his ass became wet, too.

“And you’re in the tub because…?” he said.

Jackie didn’t answer. She was trying to cover the little blood on the tub’s floor. For what Dave had told him, she’d been in here for at least an hour. He reached over the lip of the tub when she finally looked up. His fingers caressed her blushing cheek, and she leaned into his touch with closed eyes.

“I never gave you problems with my period before,” she said. “No stains, no pad-problem—I always warned you when it was coming—and no pregnancy scares.” She sighed, opening her eyes and looking at him, obviously ashamed. “I’m a grown woman, and I just had a pregnancy scare after three wanted pregnancies! What is wrong with me?”

“Well…” His fingers tunneled into the softness of her dark hair. She sighed and closed her eyes again. “I wasn’t going to live forever thinking you don’t get your period,” he said. “Knew it would happen, eventually. Glad it was now when I can laugh about it and not when I’ll be all cranky–” She glared at him. “Crankier at everything,” he corrected. “We’re fine.”

“Maybe we are,” she said, “but I traumatized our kid for life! He saw the blood on the dining room chair and my clothes!”

He chuckled, but she showed him the hose, and he pressed his lips together to calm himself down. Then he sighed. “Dave is going to be fine. He was just worried about you. Once we explain this is normal and natural, he’ll be cool.”

“He’s eight, Steven.”

“Have you heard him talk?” Hyde stood up half-way, using the bathtub lip for support, and kissed her forehead. “I don’t think he’s eight,” he said and straightened up fully. “Maybe eighteen.”

“He’s my baby and will only stop being that when he leaves the house. GET MY PADS!”

“Yes, dear.” He sighed. “Just take a shower and relax, all right? I gotta change outta these clothes you hosed down.”

He left the bathroom, but before he could reach his dresser, he spotted the dog darting toward Layla’s room. The kids weren’t far behind, and he closed his bedroom door.

“Steven?” Jackie said from the bathroom. She was naked and had started the shower. “If the kids got the dog inside, please don’t tell me.”

“No problem.”

“Thank you, baby.”

He closed the bathroom door for her. Then he removed his wet clothes, put on dry ones, and went to Alison’s cradle. The baby girl was still asleep, hadn’t even move a bit. He kissed his finger and touched it to the top of her head. She could sleep through the most disruptive of noises, ability he both admired and envied.

His laughter returned as he went to the drug store for Jackie’s pads. This was what his life had become: driving home at full-speed, like Dale Earnhardt in the Winston Cup Championship, worried shit something bad had happened to his wife, and ending up having to buy menstrual pads for the first time.

He wouldn’t want it any other way.

***

#that 70s show #jackie burkhart #steven hyde #jackie x hyde #zenmasters #nini got mail #writing games #prompts #mine #my fanfics #hj fanfics #otp: anything for you doll #a guide to domestic life by the zenmasters #golden years #lordhyderon #fanfictions #a writing nini #answered prompts #zenfamily

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belfromhell · 7 years

Text

@flying-toes and @leslipigeonoficial tagged me on this. Why am I doing it? I truly don’t know, but I love their blogs (go and follow them, now!) so I’ll do it with a smile on my face. (Btw sorry if there’s grammatical mistakes, english isn’t my first language).

Ps: @flying-toes is the one of the best persons I’ve met in this page, she’s so funny and sweet all the time! Ilysm girl, thanks for listening and care, ¡te adoro, eres genial!

rules: answer these 85 statements and tag 20 people.

I tag: @rubbersoles19 @fandom-weirdness-for-life @punk-rock-princess-626 @xjustahoneymoon @astronautswife @honeybun-holland @gweniings @mermaid-with-flowers-in-her-hair @s-sun-kissed @petersyoink @havikenhayes @pocketandheart @flylikeajetpack @lawryn-w @allisondra @danceratthestillpoint @tomhollandhollaatme @cassieandra0721 @dorkiustothemax @thebreenutgallery

I love lots of blogs but my memory is just shit so I’ll tag my last 20 followers instead.

the last

1. drink: a very strong lemonade. Basically a lot of lemon juice, a tiny bit of water and almost no sugar. LIKE THE REAL MACHOS.

2. phone call: My mom? I wanted to know how make chicken soup but we ended talking about my new neighbor and her annoying chihuahua. Never got my soup, though.

3. text message: a friend. She’s with her boyfriend’s family so basically she’s having a mental breackdown cause the mom of the boy hates her, lmao.

4. song you listened to: OMG NOOOO HAHAH. “Abrázame muy fuerte” by Juan Gabriel (we miss you mi amor :c).

5. time you cried: last night? I’ll be honest with you guys, I was reading a very emotional fanfic, it’s just science. I couldn’t help it.

6. dated someone twice: My ex, I think. Idk, I’ll date him again soon probably. I’ll use him to get free food and a Netflix account >:v

7. kissed someone and regretted it: LAST MONTH AND SHE’S MY EX LMAO. What can I say? She’s very nice and persuasive o-o

8. been cheated on: Never.

9. lost someone special: My great-grandmother passed away five years ago. I haven’t lost someone special since her, thank God.

10. been depressed: My life consist on been depressed and and angry 24/7

11. gotten drunk and thrown up: Last week. I FINALLY GRADUATED HIGH SCHOOL FUCKERS. (By fuckers I mean my teachers, I love you all okay?)

3 favourite colours

12. Black

13. Blue

14. Red

in the last year have you

15. made new friends: Yep. Some thanks to other friends, some others thanks to my habit of losing important stuff.

16. fallen out of love: No, I still love the same guy, so ???

17. laughed until you cried: Yesterday, my friend’s mother put INTENTIONALLY soap in his eyes.

18. found out someone was talking about you: YES, I WAS WAITING FOR THIS QUESTION. Last month, some girl was talking shit about my whole classroom, just because we are genious and her classmates are total toddlers. It was graduation practice, AND MY PALS AND I WERE CONGRATULATED, NOT YOU SMOL LIL SHIT.

19. met someone who changed you: I’m always making friends. On web sites, on the street, everywere, so I’m always changing cause all of them teach me something everyday, even if they are just being themselves. Watch and learn.

20. found out who your friends are: I’ll just say yes while I keep my eyes shut to avoid cry.

21. kissed someone on your Facebook list: yeah, me and my friends still play 7 Minutes in Heaven, so imagine how that turns out.

general

22. how many of your Facebook friends do you know in real life: I’ve had the same Facebook account for five or six years now, and I’ve being in lots of fandoms. So, to make it short maybe I know five hundred of the three thousand? My school was really big and I’m just a sucker for friends and new people.

23. do you have any pets: Nop, my last pet was a cat called Noah but she run away. But I have lots of plants, does they count?

24. do you want to change your name: Nop, I’m Karla Belén and that’s how family calls me, but other people call me just Karla or Belén or derivations of those two. My closest friends call me Kiwi or Kabe. My teachers used my last name and all my doctors call me Belito. I love my name cause some people has take their valious time to make nicknames or they call me in a certain way cause maybe a thing I’ve made reminds them of something specific and I’m okay with that, so no, I don’t want to change my name.

25. what did you do for your last birthday: I was at my uncle’s house, the whole day we traveled with my parents to the capital, and when we arrived my aunt had cooked fried chicken. It was very simple but my dad let me drive a little bit and my mom was in a good mood, so it was really cute.

26. what time did you wake up: I stay till one am reading fanfics, so I usually wake at ten or eleven am.

27. what were you doing at midnight last night: Talking with @flying-toes about my horrible life decisions.

28. name something you can’t wait for: Start college on September, if they answer my call this Monday. The rest of the MCU movies. Dinner.

29. when was the last time you saw your mom: Five minutes ago? She’s staying with me this days, but nah I don’t care really.

31. what are you listening to right now: I’m watching Parks and Recreation actually, so I’m listening to their voices?

32. have you ever talked to a person named tom: Yes, my friend’s brother is called Tomás, but we call him Tom cause Tomás sounds really pretentious.

33. something that is getting on your nerves: My family, the college applications THAT HAVEN’T BEEN ANSWERED, not having money to waste in shits and stuff.

34. most visited website: AO3, Instagram, and Tumblr.

35. hair color: Black.

36. long or short hair: Both, I like long hair to make braids but I like short hair cause is easy to comb. Now I have it long but that may change next week if I feel like it.

37. do you have a crush on someone: TOM HOLLAND’S GOT MY HEART AND MY SOUL AT THE MOMENT.

38. what do you like about yourself: I’m determined, I like to think that we should all be aware that we are part of a larger project and we must do something about it, but something good, something that helps the rest and make the stay in the planet more enjoyable. I am committed and fight a lot for world problems. I go out to protests and stuff, but I hope to be a politician someday to work for people who are forgotten by people with power.

39. piercings: Nope, just normal earrings holes.

40. blood type: I truly don't know, I think I’m O-, or some weird thing cause the only time i’ve need blood we had to look for a donator cause my family isn't compatible.

41. nickname: Kiwi, Kabe, Belu, Belito, Flaca, Nena.

42. relationship status: Trying to return with my ex but failing.

43. zodiac: Capricorn.

44. pronouns: “she” “her”.

45. favourite tv show: Parks and Recreation, maybe.

46. tattoos: A little moon on my right hip.

47. right or left handed: right.

48. surgery: twice.

50. sport: HA! Noooooo.

51. vacation: My grandparents house is my perfect vacation place.

52. pair of trainers: Converse or Vans? I don’t care about shoes, honestly.

GENERAL

53. eating: I eat everything except for sardines.

54. drinking: I drink everyting.

55. I’m about to: Read some Spideychelle fics?

56. waiting for: UPDATES OF MY FAVORITE FICS. And the damn college card.

57. want: Love.

58. get married: I’m still a baby, but I really want to get married someday.

59. career: I just graduated high school, soy un Bachiller de la República del Ecuador :D, but I want to be a lawyer.

WHICH IS BETTER

60. hugs or kisses: Hugs.

61. lips or eyes: Eyes.

62. shorter or taller: I don’t care, but I prefer taller people cause I’m a little tall and people is dumb about it.

63. older or younger: I don’t care x2. Age it’s just a number, I’m still pretty inmature but I’ve know people of my age that is very responsible and older people that needs to get back to their parents house.

64. nice arms or nice stomach: Nice heart? I like a nice body, but I don’t care x3 about aparience. If something or someone is cute, I like them. If they have fit bodies is cool, and is also cool if they don’t.

65. hookup or relationship: Relationship.

66. troublemaker or hesitant: TROUBLEMAKER AS FUUUUUCK. I have some strong opinios about delicate stuff and usually I get into trouble defending it.

HAVE YOU EVER:

67. kissed a stranger: Yeah, drunk or high.

68. drank hard liquor: Yeah, since I was fifteen probably.

69. lost glasses/contact lenses: Never, I can’t live without my glasses so I never leave them, at any moment.

70. turned someone down: Never.

71. sex on the first date: Never x2.

73. had your heart broken:It’s still broken but I'm pretending I'm fine reading lots of fanfics and going to the dentist.

74. been arrested: Once but I escaped before they called my parents or asked my name. I’m not proud of it but well...

75. cried when someone died: Yeah.

76. fallen for a friend: Yeah :(((

DO YOU BELIEVE IN:

77. yourself: Sometimes, when I’m sure that things will go okay, and if I’m not I just stay positive.

78. miracles: I don’t know, I’m not a religious person. But I think that sometimes things are meant to be and happens in weird ways that can be considered as miracles.

79. love at first sight: No, that’s bullshit.

80. santa claus: Nop, here in Ecuador we don’t believe in that. It’s something that foreign brought like a comercial thing.

81. kiss on the first date: It deppends.

82. angels: Maybe.

OTHER:

84. eye colour: Dark brown.

85. favourite movie: El 49. In 1949 a earthquake shake and destroyed my city. Help was sent from all the country and from close countries but it never came. People with power taked those things and made total empires using all the provitions. But my city didn’t give up. People that lost everyting worked harder that ever and the next year the city was reconstructed and since that year we celebrate on February the FFF (Fiesta de las Flores y de las Frutas) that means Flower and Fruit Festival. I love that movie cause reflects all the pain of those poor citizens but the determination of the ambateños (My city is called Ambato, do the math).

IF YOU GOT TO THE END YOU HAVE A LOT OF FREE TIME. THANKS FOR READING! If you think we have something in common you should send me a message. I’am always willing to talk or listen.

#random

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trashynoona · 7 years

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Seat 5A

Word count: 2,105

Content: Fluff, lot’s of fluff! (It’s our chim chim after all ^^)

It was 2am and the girl was glad to have finally settled down in the plane. She began shuffling around her seat, getting her usual flight routine ready. ‘Earphones, check. Pillow, check. Eyemask, check. Favourite cosy blankie, check.’ She does a little happy dance as she sniffed the blanket she had with her since she was a baby. Once the girl was done sorting out her flight routine, she leaned back on her seat with a sigh of relief. The girl had spent the last 6 months writing her honors thesis and shewere glad it was over and was looking forward towards this month long break in Australia. Her best friend had moved to Australia for his studies upon graduating high school and she finally found time to visit him in the little quaint city he has been gushing about.

It was 2am but Park Jimin is feeling more alive than ever. BTS have had a crazy fruitful year and he was more than grateful for it, however, he was also glad that it has come to an end and he is finally able to take this long awaited solo-trip that he has been planning since forever.

Jimin removed his face mask and hat then fell back on the seat; relieved. He muses at himself and did a happy dance as he recalled how he left his luggage behind in the airport transfer bus in Norway and made a mental note to remember his luggage this time.

Just as he was amused at himself, he noticed the girl next to him; sniffling some sort of a cloth and doing the exact same happy dance he just did. Jimin’s bushy eyebrows tweaked up and he was curious about the girl. Jimin did not feel like the usual shy boy he is tonight because he was happy and the few glasses of wine at the pre-departure lounge probably added some courage as well. So, Jimin decided he was going to talk to the curious girl next to him.

‘Aren’t you a little too energetic for a 2am flight?’ Jimin arched over his seat and addressed the girl.

‘Well, I think I’m very much allowed to be happy at 2am because I just submitted my honors thesis that I had been working on since forever!’ The girl quipped.

‘Aren’t you a little too energetic for a 2am flight as well then? And what’s with the hat and face mask, what, are you a terrorist?!’ The girl teased.

Jimin was dumbfounded, he was not sure of how to respond. He thought that everyone in Korea would know that people who generally hid their faces were celebrity of sorts and now that the girl has seen his face, he thought she would know who he is for sure. Afterall, bts and Park Jimin were indeed pretty huge in 2016.

‘Yaaa!~ Chill. I was just teasing you. Since we are both so happy and we have a long flight ahead of us, let me get us some booze, my treat!’ The girl shot her hand up to catch the attention of a flight attendant.

‘To be fair, these drinks are free since we did pay a lot of money for this full service flight right...’ Jimin corrected the girl.

The girl did not respond. Instead, she shoves a glass of apple maritini in Jimin’s hand and knocked his glass gently before downing the content of her glass.

‘This boy is so uptight, but I guess that makes him kinda cute. The way his eye disappears when he smiles, what on Earth?!’ The girl made a mental note in her head as she watches the boy down his drink. She was feeling a bit of the heat rising to her head. She has never been a good drinker, especially in Korean terms and the fact that she was running on little sleep did not help her alcohol tolerance level. However, she was determined to make the best out of this flight; afterall, she did pay quite a hefty price for a business-class upgrade.

She quietly muses about how the upgrade even came with a cute neighbor.

‘What are you laughing about?’ Jimin enquires.

‘Mm nothing. Busybody.’ The girl shot her tongue out at the boy and they both broke out into laughter, possibly thanks to the alcohol running in their system.

Jimin was smitten. He had not seen anybody so beautifully carefree in a long time. Although he was always surrounded by beautiful idols, he thought they were often uptight and too polished. Himself included. It was refreshing for him to be around somebody who’s so real for a change.

‘BUUuuuuuUURRRrrrrRRrRP’ The girl covered her mouth and giggled.

‘Wow. that. was.... pretty… weak huh?’ Jimin teases; unimpressed. He then proceeds to burp, louder and more obnoxiously.

The duo continued their little burping battle which often follows with a roar of laughter. They were so engrossed in their obnoxious little game that they did not notice the stares of the other patrons.

‘You’re not like a regular korean girl aren’t you.’ Jimin commented.

‘What do you mean?’ The girl shook her head in confusion.

‘I mean, you don’t seem to care who I am at all, and we just had a burp battle... that’s not very much a stereotypical lady-like korean right?’ Jimin muses.

‘Well... perhaps maybe because while I was born in Korea, I practically grew up in America and only came back to Korea for 6 months of university because I have been really intrigued by the richness of Korean culture so I decided to major in Korean studies! What about you? We should be about the same age right, are you in university?’ The girl asked.

‘Well... I am... technically.. sort of..’ Jimin answered.

‘What do you mean sort of? Omg. Are you like a korean idol or something that’s why you don’t have time for school?’ The girl teases and nudges as Jimin.

Jimin’s face was heated and he wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol or the fact that this beautiful girl next to him had no clue who he is. He decided to play along and pretended to be a regular college kid for once.

‘I mean yeah I am in school! Duh! I am 22 years old, obviously I am in college.’ Jimin laughs it off.

The duo continues to be loud and obnoxious through the plane ride but they eventually got tired as the night went by and eventually fell asleep leaning on one another.

The girl shuffled around and rubbed her eyes, only to realize she is very much stuck. Her head was on the boy’s shoulder and his head was gently leaning on top of hers. It felt safe and she smiled to herself. That was when she realised, their hands were linked and the boy was holding onto her hands tightly. Suddenly, she felt her cheeks heat up, slightly overwhelmed by the unexpected skinship from the random cute stranger she met on the plane. The girl felt her heart racing and butterflies growing in her tummy as she gingerly positioned the boy’s head on her shoulder so she can watch the beautiful boy sleep. She felt him shuffled in his sleep and she held her breath; afraid to have awoken him from his slumber.

Jimin tiredly opens an eye, smiles at the girl and reaches forward to place a gentle peck on her cheeks.

Jimin forgot the last time he had so much fun as a regular person. He was glad to be treated like a regular person; unlike a celebrity and just have mindless fun as a typical college kid. It made it extra special since the girl seated next to him was totally his type. She was petite and has cute chubby cheeks and a twinkle of mischief in her eyes. Jimin loved the sound of her laughter, the way her eye crinkles and how she subconsciously tugs a strand of her beautiful long raven hair behind her ear. She kind of reminded him of his best pal, Taehyung. Minus the annoyance and definitely a lot more attractive than his pabo buddy. At least in Jimin’s eyes.

The girl has fallen asleep on his shoulder and he is smiling to himself silly. He knew the members would definitely tease him about it if they had known. Something about ‘ooooh our jiminnie is a big boy now’, so he was quite sure he was never going to tell the members about the girl.

Jimin rested his head on hers as he takes in her comforting scent. She smells like a mixture lavender, roses, jasmine and the ocean. Jimin casually wondered if it is possible to place her scent into a wax candle so he could bring it back home with him.

Just as his thoughts floated away, he quietly reached out for the sleeping girl’s hand. The last time Jimin actually held a girl’s hand for real was in highschool before he debuted with BTS. It felt strange and refreshing as it has been so long. It felt innocent and simple, unlike the occasional flings he had simply to satisfy his needs as a man. This refreshing occurrence made his heart race and butterflies grew in his stomach. He was shy again. He ordered another glass of apple martini and gulped it down; not wanting his shy persona to come out just as he was getting close to the girl who’s still sound asleep on his shoulder.

Jimin felt her shuffle under his head and he immediately kept his eyes shut; pretending to be asleep. Just as the girl gently picked his head up and place it on her shoulder, he smiled to himself. Her scent was even stronger now and it seem to have made Jimin braver, along with the glass of alcohol he had just downed a while ago.

So Jimin did something he never would have dared on a regular day. He reached forward and gave the girl a peck on her cheeks.

The girl turned around and faced him; flustered. Jimin moved closer to get a good view of her response and inched closer to her face, asking for permission to kiss her on her lips. The girl smiled and Jimin took his cue and rested his soft plump lips on hers. Their lips molded together perfectly as Jimin intensifies the kiss, begging for entrance to her lips. The girl smiled into the kiss again and Jimin took the opportunity for his tongue to enter her mouth. Her breath was warm and their tongues did a little dance together. The girl broke off from the kiss and smiled again.

‘You’re an opportunist aren’t you?’ She teases.

‘That’s my motto, sweetheart, I’m known for my greed to be the best and to work hard at everything I set my mind to.’ Jimin kisses the girl again as he bragged about his work ethics.

‘I know... but I’m sorry but I like Yoongi oppa better.’ The girl teases in a sing-song voice in the midst of their kiss.

This time, it was Jimin who pulls away.

‘Wait. what? Yoongi oppa? So you do know who I am! Why did you pretend like you didnt?’ Jimin was confused, slightly worried that he might have just made out with a crazy fan.

‘Erm... to be fair, I did not actually say I don’t know who bts is. Besides, would you prefer if I had made a big deal about it? Relax, I am not a crazy fan. I was introduced to kpop by my roomate in university a few weeks back and that was where I found out about you guys. I must say, Min Yoongi is seriously cute.’ The girl declared.

‘Well... well too bad. Yoongi hyung isn’t here and you’re not even his type!’ Jimin was defensive. He crossed his arms and stuck out his tongue at the girl.

‘And.. I am your type?’ The girl teases as she leans closer to Jimin.

‘Yes.’ Jimin responded as he dives into her lips again. This time stronger and more passionate.

Neither of them knew what was this entire plane ride was about, but they knew they needed to let their overwhelming feelings for one another out and the only way was to be as close to one another as possible as their tongues dance to the rhythm of the airplane’s systems. Nothing mattered at that moment; nothing except the intense, strong feelings they shared with one another.

Jimin thought that maybe, maybe he is already experiencing the highlight of his trip as he secretly pray for the flight slow down.

I have yet to decide if I want to make this a one-shot or a series, so do leave a reply and let me know! And I hope you enjoyed it while I continue to busk in my recent obsession with our chim chim ^.^

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animalexpert · 5 years

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Wlrs; V

It’s a frustrating limbo being conscious of the traits you want to change in yourself but fearful enough of them to try and dodge and avoid the thoughts and actions you need to make to do so. It’s definitely started to help writing things down because you have to be real with yourself, you’re watching the words as they flow, you know if they aren’t true or if the effort behind them is hollow. I didn’t write at all for months and it showed, as soon as I did I came to new lights where I had been previously struggling against myself in darkness, a brawl of the shadowy brain Alston’s came to halt. I wouldn’t say I had a new years resolution, because I don’t agree with giving otherwise mundane and normal days value by saying it’s a special day, especially since nearly all of them are religiously based(Although I can’t lie I enjoy having excuses for parties and to get spooky in the fall, so I still kinda acknowledge them, but just to spend time with my pals). I’ve really found that any day can be those days and it means so much more to think about someone for a reason rather than that you’re supposed to. Like I brought my dad home some Jams and a fresh strawberry rhubarb pie, his favorite, from an amish market on camping trip I went on, and he was happier than he was on fathers day when I gave him a card and a hug, and now his shelf's are overflowing with preserves. When I think or dream about someone and I share that they were important enough to me to casually pass through my brain and stay their long enough for thought, it makes them feel warmth, something I feel like is harder to find when your actions don’t come from the soul.

I sidetracked, but I got a journal/planner in early January and tried making an effort to write down things I was feeling when they were overbearing me, lyrics I thought of that I constantly fucking forget, and trying to keep a schedule of my time along with not forgetting about important dates, as I often lose hold of time. Shortly after I began, I found that I was fearful of the things I was helping myself understand, because they were contrary to much I’ve been doing for myself, I’d fallen into comfort, in my job, social setting and lifestyle. I was slaving myself for a job where I was earning someone else a ridiculous ratio of money as compared to what I was making, like if I ever have big money and need people to work and hold things down for me, they will be compensated graciously. Back when I was working at Sonic, I don’t remember who said this to me, I think it was one of my fave higher ups and friends, he had asked someone to clean the bathroom I think or do some kind of outside work, and they didn’t want to and said something along the lines of “you don’t ever have to go clean the bathrooms” and obviously a manager can just do whatever they want there but instead he cleaned the bathroom, and told them “I wouldn’t make you do anything I wasn’t willing to do myself, we’re a team.” And that shit strikes through me, pisses me off when I’m serving, dudes with great hearts getting disrespected just because they are bussers, busy as fuck while a server is doing nothing. When I bring bus pans back to the dish pit or help the bussers they act like I’m water to their ten days in the dessert just for fucking respecting them. Capitalism is some shit man, makes ignorants think they tread a pedestal because they make 10k more a year than someone working at the same place they are, and if I ever find my way up I’m giving everyone who’s shown me love and respect on the way a chance to be there with me.

Back to the journal thing I sidetracked from, I’d realized how much I fell into comfort and I was like omg this is not me wtf Alston. My social life was dazed I wasn’t hanging out with anyone really, bless Nick for coming over so much but apart from him I was just selling to people and chilling smoking and gaming setting myself up to never get enough sleep. I would and still do sometimes sell to friends, people that I loved and desperately wanted to interact with, and try to be quick as possible just so I could make more sales or likely hole back up, I like when people come to me to pick up for that reason, sometimes they hang for a decent amount of time impromptu, feels nice. I started the Tuesday bowling around that time and it caught on, like 6-12 people show up every week and it’s nice, I’m getting good again too and honestly I fuck with strategy sports heavy, bowling, pool, ping pong, etc. I’d like to have a strategy sport center in my home, damn I could sidetrack so easily into a ramble about this.

Along with my realization of over comfort, I had noticed how often I was thinking and looking back on someone that I dulled out of my life, only to realize I had only been hiding a lot of thoughts the whole time, they were still there I just wasn’t accepting them, I vetoed them from reality as they floated through. It was scary to realize this, because I know how much pain they could cause, and I was so tired of hurting people, so I hid them back away, I stopped journaling any thoughts and feelings even though they popped up everyday, and fell off the scheduling. I started to fall deeper into a hole so soon after I had become conscious of the realities behind the holes existence, why does it sometimes feel like knowing your pain makes it harder to face. I hate it when I feel miserable, I’ll do everything to not feel that way, but when I’m consciously miserable I’ll just be like eh fuck it lets just lay here nothingnessly chafeel. So I was seeing a bunch people every Tuesday which was nice, I was hanging like one other time a week with Nick or someone else, I was more hang outish when I sold, Justin and I hang every time he picks up which is nice, Isaiah as well, great conversationalist. But I was still holding a lot in, and I would bring up to friends that I needed to talk about something, but I was so afraid of causing trouble and hurt that I would dodge it off go somewhere else with what I needed to talk about or tell them it was all good or ignore it entirely sometimes.

It went on and it felt like time was standing still, weeks past and I came back from a small trip and I finally broke and just wanted to talk to them so bad.. So I started to write, and it was so fucking freeing, and I just asked myself why I always let everything build up before I address it, it’s my worst trait, yet the one I’m most conscious of, why it be like that. I wrote and wrote, but as I did I knew it would be at someone’s expense.. It pained me, between each letter I argued with myself whether to send them, or let it pass in anguish, and continue to hide all that I had felt, but I finally broke after consoling myself in the fact that I literally was thinking about it nearly EVERY day, after 3 letters built up I asked them if I could send all the letters, and they replied blatantly, which I think was important, and I’m thankful for. They closed a door, one I couldn’t close myself.

At first I thought I would just revert back to my hole, but I didn’t, it was incredibly helpful to have that shut on me. I knew my thoughts and dreams wouldn’t seize, in fact I even thought of a line to add to one of my sad boy songs “I dream of a queen that want nothing to do with me, speaks with her heart and I know that beat fluently”,that and others, plus thinking about making music about how I was feeling, helped me come to realize that writing and exporting these feelings was helping so much, and I can still do that peacefully and respectfully from behind a door. So I continued to write in peace, knowing that I was working more and more towards processing my feelings, but, deservingly, I was asked to burn all my writings, and in turn burn how I was trying to process myself. I was asked to do so again today, but these writings are powerful to me, it doesn’t feel like burning paper, and it’s intimidating knowing that avoiding that fire will incite another fire. Smokey fuckin hates my ass right now, I hate myself right now a little bit, but I’m aware of how not to. Which is like where I started this post, I hate how aware I am of things I don’t like about myself, or how I’m feeling but I just wanna avoid it. I would be well off if I just processed rationally months ago. It got so bad for a few weeks I didn’t feel real, brains are fucking wild but I’m happy I have the one I do even if it’s a troublemaker. This was a ramblefest but it felt great.

#Me Fuckin feels m8 #Hi

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rowanfoster · 4 years

Text

{ haley lu richardson ♔ twenty-three ♔ she/her } well, well, well if it isn’t rowan foster running around peach hollow. legend has it, she comes from tangerine towers and has lived here her entire life. if you’re wondering what she’s been up to, i hear she’s a make up artist / freelance musician for a living. she has been known to be impulsive yet insightful. a word of advice to her, always look over your shoulder. you never know who is watching.

have a playlist and a pinterest board dedicated to her

rowan celeste foster was born may 27th, 1996. she’s the oldest of two, a baby sister coming to the scene in 1999.

she’d lead everyone other than her family and maybe one or two other people that she was away on a musician’s retreat, but really, was in inpatient treatment.

she’s currently working full time as a make up artist at pop of peach and performing when she can, but doesn’t really go outside of peach hollow

fun facts & personality

catch her driving her old ass ford focus blaring 00s alternative, mainly fuckin paramore bc she’s heart eyes for hayley williams

wanted connections if ya made it this far!!!!

bullies – people who fucked with her through school. it’s essential that they’re on bad terms currently, but perhaps an enemy turned friend or romantic could be fun??

group therapy pal – this would be super fun and might entail the person finding out about her secret…. msg me for deets

flirtationship – self explanatory, gender doesn’t matter she’s pan

any other ideas literally lmk!! thanks for reading ♥

#intro #repost!!!!

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