#ooc: jesus fucking christ i had to cut out so much to get this down to 1k words. i wrote 3.3k while i was out bruh

[in-omni-scientia]

COMPOSURE [Medium: Success] — Hey. Pssst. VOLITION — ... COMPOSURE — ...You've been staring at the wall above your little desk completely motionless for what can't be more than about two minutes straight now. I think Authority is getting weirded out.

You turn your head to where Authority has, also, been standing and staring at you completely motionless for two minutes. He tilts his head back and to the side a small amount.

COMPOSURE — Almost... inquisitively, I think.

"Just gathering myself. I'm okay." Involuntarily, your body tacks on a (rather awkward) thumbs up. He huffs and turns away.

COMPOSURE — Give him five seconds maximum, and he'll turn back again. I don't think he wants to let you out of his sight right now.

Shifting your gaze back to the notepad in front of you, you run your eyes over the list of allocated duties once more.

ENCYCLOPEDIA (FACTS)

Claims to be: "what I should be"

Currently useless.

Allocated job: Prevent Authority from speaking.

Allocated job: Stay quiet.

THE OTHER ONE PERCEPTION

Claims to be: "joy"

Currently useless.

Allocated job: Perceiving.

VOL ME

Claims to be:

Be dumb and stupid forever, haha. With love, Authority.

?

Allocated job: Do what we are supposed to.

COMPOSURE

Claims to be: Social cues, knowing how to act, culprit of the Suggestion Anonymo

Allocated job: Making us *appear* normal to the others.

Allocated job: Just generally keeping our shit together?

AUTHORITY

Do *not* allow to speak under ANY circumstances.

Allocated job: Movement.

VOLITION — Good. A rather rough draft, though I'm sure we can continue to allocate roles as we find them necessary. ENCYCLOPEDIA — A rather poor effort for categorization by your standards. PERCEPTION — Come *on*, why do I have to be Perception just because I do the seeing? I'd be far better suited for Ele... VOLITION — You both have *new* jobs now, stay quiet unless you can contribute something of use.

Flipping your notepad to a new page, you start to write:

WHAT CAUSED THIS?

ENCYCLOPEDIA — A good place to start. Theoretically, all reactions are reversible... VOLITION — What can you recall about our affliction? Anything at all.

ENCYCLOPEDIA [Trivial: Success] — Obviously, this happened after the Whale communicated with us. We were experiencing its effects prior to that interaction, but to a minimal degree; the pain inflicted upon its response to us prior to this beginning is not negligible. Causation can be assumed here. COMPOSURE [Easy: Success] — I have to point out -- well, look at Authority.

You cast a side glance in his direction. Even with your blurry vision, you can see him pacing back and forth, occasionally throwing a glower your way.

COMPOSURE — He’s fine, even after communing with the Whale. A little bothered by all this, obviously, but that’s natural. VOLITION — Yes -- it’s unusual. Charmer is fine as well.

ENCYCLOPEDIA [Easy: Success] — There’s a logical explanation for it. We just have to find one.

[Encyclopedia - Challenging 12] Do we know why you could have been impacted so adversely compared to your colleagues? (WHITE CHECK)

HIGH - 72% +1: Know about the Whale. +1: Savoir Faire’s fragmentation. -1: No Logic subskill. +1: Authority is here.

Rolling...

⚂⚄

CHECK SUCCESS (Challenging: 12 vs. Your Total: 14)

ENCYCLOPEDIA [Challenging: Success] — If *they* have not been impacted by a pale anomaly to the same degree as you have, you can only assume it has to do something with mental fortitude, or something similar. VOLITION — …Are you saying the Psyche skills know Volta do Mar? ENCYCLOPEDIA — No. Well – you could always ask, but I don’t know if you would get a good response. What I’m saying is, it may have something to do with your level. VOLITION — Go on…

ENCYCLOPEDIA — Recall the average pulses per minute for each attribute as studied by the Turtle -- [110 for Intellect, 150 for Psyche, 70 for Physique, and 50 for Motorics]. This lines up fairly well with the base levels for them, 4-5-2-1 (though some individual skills *have* been levelled beyond this via Thoughts). ⠀⠀Remember, too, the Turtle’s studies into the neurons. They made sketches of them – but some neurons had a strange pale sheath on them that was slowing their communication. (The fact they selected a Motorics neuron for that diagram is significant, too, as it evokes Savoir Faire’s current state).

ENCYCLOPEDIA — We know that it is unnatural for neurons to have that sheath on them. What I am trying to say is, I believe that perhaps the Pale Whale has given us pale exposure, and the skill’s levels afford certain Skills protection from being affected by the pale exposure.

ENCYCLOPEDIA — The effects of pale exposure for us seem to follow a pattern: high-levelled Skills, such as Authority, Suggestion and Empathy, receive no visible afflictions. Medium-level Skills such as yourself, Drama, Composure, Rhetoric, Pain Threshold and Interfacing have their abilities to communicate affected, and low-level skills experience partial fragmentation. ⠀⠀I am unsure of *how* this fragmentation exactly occurs, considering our and Savoir Faire’s presentations are very different. Though I believe we have the resources to figure this out.

VOLITION — Hmmm… ⠀⠀This theory may have some flaws in it. I will begin with smaller flaws. First of all, cop radio was affected with a similar presentation to Skills from medium levels. How do you explain this? ENCYCLOPEDIA [Easy: Success] — Esprit De Corps was the first to contact the Whale, of course; perhaps their initial contact overcame the natural protection their level afforded them.

VOLITION — *How* were we affected by the pale? The closest origin point is in Martinaise, and we have not been there for some time. ENCYCLOPEDIA [Heroic: Failure] — Admittedly, I have no rebuttal for that. Perhaps the theory that Harry has one in his own head is correct. Perhaps the Whale has the power to reach beyond the bounds of where pale ordinarily can.

VOLITION — Savoir Faire’s affliction was caused *prior* to the Whale’s first contact. ENCYCLOPEDIA [Medium: Success] — Remember, the incident occurred after you had explained the Pale, when they claimed to ‘backflip into Rodionov’s trench’. While that is completely ludicrous to believe they could actually pull that off six thousand kilometres from the nearest point of even porch collapse, I do believe the Pale has something to do with their presentation. ⠀⠀Furthermore, the Whale claimed in its contact with you that ‘Mother Nature’ is disgusted by us, that ‘the verdict’ had already been made. Perhaps it has had its eye on us for some time now, and Savoir Faire’s affliction is another case of pale exposure, simply occurring before we were aware of the Whale’s presence. VOLITION — So it wasn’t me… PERCEPTION — It wasn’t you.

VOLITION — Okay. And finally… ⠀⠀We have six points. Not that far off from the Psyche skills. This fragmentation is *not* a low-level presentation, unlike what you said. PERCEPTION [Easy: Success] — Actually… I’m so sorry. VOLITION [Formidable: Failure] — ? PERCEPTION — You are at two points currently. VOLITION — What? Why?

ENCYCLOPEDIA — Minus-two from No Wedding Bells Chime in this Church Anymore. Minus-one from Brilliant Bibliolater’s Blues. Minus-one due to the lost morale. (Normally that last one wouldn’t be an issue, but I think the fact you’ve been proclaimed Volition is doing that…) ⠀⠀They’re distributed among us, but they add up to minus-four overall for Encyclopedia, the construct.

VOLITION — You’re kidding me. ⠀⠀*Thinking about the concept of marriage* caused this? Made me more prone to it? ⠀⠀And I’m even more prone now because Authority yelled at me?? PERCEPTION — I’m sorry. IN MEMORIAM — Until pale do our atoms part. VOLITION — We… we have to forget those thoughts *now*. Do we have the points? ENCYCLOPEDIA — No. VOLITION — *Shit*. We need to—to ask someone what to do. Who do we talk to about this? Can Volition do something?

PERCEPTION [Medium: Success] — Are you sure you want to do this?

VOLITION — Of course I am!! I’m going to be *completely torn apart* if this goes on! PERCEPTION — If you forget those thoughts, you will never be able to think about them again.

VOLITION — Yes, well… ⠀⠀… ⠀⠀Never? PERCEPTION — Never ever. VOLITION — Well, I can’t get married or have favourite facts if I’m dead. PERCEPTION — Don’t you want to take the chance? VOLITION — Empathy wouldn’t want me to. I’d leave them all alone.

IN MEMORIAM [Godly: Success] —

⠀⠀‘Tis better to have loved and lost Than to never have loved at all.

PERCEPTION — Yes, exactly -- it will hurt them far, far more knowing you saved yourself but doomed yourself to never wanting more, than to know you risked yourself to finally put a name to what you are. You *talked* about that.

VOLITION — …Uhm. ‘Exactly’ to what? PERCEPTION — Uh. I don’t remember…? ⠀⠀But seriously, please. Just take the chance. It’s irrational, it’s irresponsible, it’s impossible. ⠀⠀But… give it a try.

VOLITION — ...Sigh. ⠀⠀You… *people* are terrible. Fine, I’ll leave them for now. But the *moment* any funny business happens, we’re dragging Authority with us over to Volition’s zone and demanding they give us the points to get rid of them.

AUTHORITY [Challenging: Failure] — You want me to do something?!?! VOLITION — Not *you*. I don’t call you Authority by choice, it’s simply because it is convenient at the moment. AUTHORITY [Legendary: Failure]— (;´༎ຶД༎ຶ`)

VOLITION — So… what do we do now? ENCYCLOPEDIA — Actually, can I try to figure out what exactly is causing fragmentation to occur? It’s a rather big step up from language difficulties. This could be important to figure out. COMPOSURE — You should tell Authority what you have worked out. Just to let him know this hasn’t been a waste of time. PERCEPTION — If you want to regain a level, you need to heal that morale you lost; I would recommend finding Empathy. It’s been a little while since you last saw them. AUTHORITY — Definitely *do not* do that; not in your current state. They’re already far too stressed. ENCYCLOPEDIA — Finally, something reasonable from that one.

VOLITION — Hmmm…

[Encyclopedia - Legendary 14] Do we know how this fragmentation could be occurring? (WHITE CHECK)

About going to talk to Empathy…

“Authority, I think I’ve worked out what is happening with all of us.” (Finish thought.)

[Encyclopedia - Legendary 14] Do we know how this fragmentation could be occurring?

LOW - 28% +1: Know about the neurons. +1: Know about Savoir Faire. -1: Holes in your theory.

Rolling...

⚃⚄

CHECK SUCCESS (Legendary 14 vs. Your Total: 14)

ENCYCLOPEDIA [Legendary: Success] — It has to be the pale sheath that’s doing it. ⠀⠀The sheaths are slowing the action potential of the neurons they are attached to. Theoretically, if the neurons that make up *you* could not communicate fast enough to keep you together... VOLITION — …they’d start dissociating from one another. ENCYCLOPEDIA — Yes, like the turtle proposed. And each one may begin to function as separate entities. Perhaps it would get to the point where they disconnect entirely. VOLITION — Lord. Is-- is it reversible? ENCYCLOPEDIA — I don’t know.

You gaze down at your notepad unseeingly, half-filled with a near-unintelligible frantic scrawl that has barely kept up with the pace of your thoughts.

AUTHORITY — Unintelligible?! I’ve been doing my best! PERCEPTION — OG, we can find out. Heal that lost morale, get that one point back; see what it does for you. VOLITION — But… that’s not going to do anything. Losing it hasn’t actually done anything in regards to how this… condition is presenting itself. AUTHORITY — Wrong again, worm. Look up. COMPOSURE — I think you meant bookworm? AUTHORITY — Irrelevant. Look up.

You do – and gaze directly into a near-identical copy of your own face, with the notable exception of two pinprick lights flashing at you from the abyssal shadows.

AUTHORITY — Boo.

With a yelp, your stool clatters to the ground – but as soon as you’ve jumped up, it’s gone.

[almightygremlinblob]

Promise Me This (Kaorijaku x Jin Itadori)

Writing this was…honestly a fever dream. I did NOT mean for Jin to be this unhinged, JESUS CHRIST. Kenjaku is reffered to with he/him pronouns (except for wife) but has fem!body parts cuz…well, Kaori. This is also under the HC that the Itadori family, while not exactly sorcerers, weren't completely oblivious to the world of curses. Anyways, no beta'd smexy-times under the cut, so minors or anybody not comfortable with that DNI pls.

Word Count: 2730-ish words of Kenjaku having the time of his life and Jin being a maniac

⚠️CONTENT WARNINGS⚠️

Soft Dom!Jin Itadori. Jin being just…absolutely UNG-FUCKING-HINGED in this, like, he dives face first off the deep end. Kenjaku being a complete slut and bottom for Jin (like, srsly, he is down HORRENDOUSLY BAD for his man), ft. his breeding kink and a little OOC. Multiple orgasms. Monsterfucking. Body horror cuz Kaorijaku. Squirting. Jin makes out with Kenjaku's brain mouth. Everything's consensual, tho and ends in kinda fluff? Would you consider that fluff? Does that make it worse? I don't know.

It was amusing the first few weeks, but Kenjaku's had enough of it; deciding he might as well rip the bandaid off.

"Why do you pretend, Jin?"

"Pretend what?"

Kenjaku huffed, humans could be so interesting (and infuriating), sometimes. Jin may have been grieving, but he wasn't an idiot, and Kenjaku knew this. Sensed it in how cautious he'd been when they first met, though…that didn't stop him from playing around with what he could get away with. Yet, still, ever since 'Kaori' came back, the both of them had settled into an awkward domestic bliss which was…quite intriguing. Actually, that was a lie. Kenjaku very much enjoyed it. Jin was fun to prod and play around with; watching the mix of confusion, horror and sometimes arousal from the other was just���

It was so much fun.

Though, during the time they were together, nothing too intimate ever happened. They'd cuddle, hug, sleep in the same bed together, take baths together, and he'd never miss how tenderly the other would touch his scars when he thought he was asleep - a strange development in the past month - but nothing more than that. Hell, Jin never once even kissed him all this time, despite the curse's relentless flirting - which was NOT something Kenjaku enjoyed.

Clearly he knew something was off, and yet…

"Kaori?" The water stopped running, and Jin put the last of the dishes onto the drying rack, before going over to his late wife and wrapping his arms around him. "I'm not pretending anything, silly."

"You know something's wrong with me."

"…yes."

"And yet you still play make believe with me?"

"I do."

"…" Kenjaku sighed. "Care to tell me why?"

"I told you…" Jin's lips trail over Kenjaku's neck, not kissing but…definitely teasing.

Oh, this was new!

The curse couldn't help but the smile that formed on his lips. Jin's touch was sending delightful shivers throughout his body, and it made Kenjaku almost ecstatic that he was finally initiating something. His next words though, practically had a growing heat start to pool in between his legs.

"I'm not pretending."

"I don't know what you are…" Jin sighs, and Kenjaku doesn't realize how he chases the touch of the other's lips on his neck; too drunk on the way his body was feeling. "And I've decided I don't care. You brought Kaori back to me…even if she's not…you're not…"

"You still brought her back, in some way." Kenjaku feels Jin's grip on him tighten, most probably out of frustration, but he enjoys it regardless. "And if you want to play good little housewife, I can give you that."

"You're an interesting one, Jin." Kenjaku laughs. "I think…think I'll keep you."

"Say, your name…your real name…what is it?"

"Ken…K-Kenjaku. I've-I-I've heard, ah…" Shit, he was stuttering. Kenjaku smirks, feeling a pleasant dizziness but takes a deep and shaky breath to recompose himself. "H-heard you arguing with your old man, you know…a-about a child. Did you want one?"

Jin's breath hitches. "Yes…with her. It was a shared dream of ours…"

"I-I can still do that for you."

Jin is silent for a while, thinking. He could still have a child with her…oh, but who was he kidding? No, no. This woman in front of him wasn't just her, was it? Jin's grip on Kenjaku loosens just a little. Just so he can look at the other - this…this thing wearing the corpse of his wife - properly. Jin smiles softly at the realization that…perhaps, he really was going insane.

Because it wasn't just about Kaori, anymore.

"Do you want one? Hm?" Jin's eyes pierce through Kenjaku, even though his smile is kind. The curse is caught completely off-guard by the intensity of his gaze, and it makes the heat pooling in between his legs only grow more. The pink haired man tilts his head, finding his lips and Kenjaku swears he stopped breathing for a good minute as Jin continued to gently kiss him. A strangled noise escapes Kenjaku's throat when he feels Jin's tongue slowly lap at his bottom lip. "With me?"

"I-I…" For the first time in a while, Kenjaku is speechless. He simply laughs, before kissing the other back. Shit, he didn't realize how ecstatic he'd been until he was feverishly exploring Jin's mouth with his tongue.

Before the both of them know it, they're naked in their shared bed, Jin passionately lapping at his wife's dripping folds. Kenjaku can't help the noises that come out of his mouth. "Y-yes! God, ye-"

A hand harshly grabs at his throat and squeezes hard. The curse sees Jin glare at him from between his legs, and it makes his cunt throb even more. "Be quiet. You'll get your turn."

Kenjaku can only whimper and whine when Jin continues to feverishly lick and taste him, dragging his tongue up from his folds up to his clit and occasionally sucking on the sensitive nub eagerly. The curse gasps for air when Jin releases his grip, dizzy and ecstatic, before whining when Jin inserts a finger. Another easily slips in, shortly after.

"I'm so happy…your body still remembers me, Kaori." Jin laughs quietly, and Kenjaku is chokes on a sob when Jin curls his fingers - fucking that wonderful spot inside him while scissoring him open. The pink haired man smiles softly as he glances at the curse above him, the look going completely unnoticed by said curse who was lost to the pleasure. Jin closes his eyes and begins to suck on his clit, fucking the curse with his mouth and fingers.

"A-aah, fuck-Jin!" Kenjaku practically mewls as he bucks his hips, gripping onto Jin's hair and grinding himself on his tongue and fingers. It only takes a few more moments until Kenjaku finds himself coming undone, entire body shaking as Jin rides him through his orgasm.

Kenjaku feels strangely empty, though not unsatisfied, when Jin pulls his fingers out, giving his clit one last tender kiss before getting up. It takes several breaths before the curse can speak again. "I-I…what abo-"

His words die in his throat when Jin hooks the other's legs around his hips, caging Kenjaku underneath him. The curse can feel Jin's cock, deliciously hard and leaking against his cunt, and what the other says next has Kenjaku's legs go weak.

"Your turn now, Kenjaku."

Jin says into his ear, low and hungry, but then stays silent and still for a while. The curse can tell he's thinking of something, and he can't help but feel intrigued. His arms find their way around his shoulders, not realizing how tenderly he strokes the others back.

"Tell me what's on your mind, Ji-…n…" Kenjaku's words die in his throat when he meets Jin's eyes. They're hungry, and it makes his cunt ache again. Only...he wasn't looking at his wife's eyes, he was looking somewhere a little higher.

"Stitches. Off."

His eyes go wide. "What?"

"It's where you are, isn't it? And I told you, it's your turn." Kenjaku goes still for a while, shocked, but then just starts giggling; giddy and elated. "You know…normal people can't see my kind. U-us curses, we're-"

"Take them off, Kenjaku."

Kenjaku smiles, and wordlessly does as he's told. Fluids leak from his head as he parts the cut to reveal the light pink flesh underneath. Jin finally sees the curse for the first time in months. The curse doesn't miss how soft his eyes become, and watches as he carefully traces his thumb over the curse's mouth. "There you are…"

"Ah, my bad. So I correct about you lot…"

Jin sinks himself into the other's cunt, hissing at how hard Kenjaku's walls suck him in - though with how wet the other was it was easier than expected to slip inside. The curse nearly comes undone again, then and there. He's never felt this full, before and it felt incredible. Jin's lips meet the curse's actual mouth and has Kenjaku drooling and whimpering underneath the pink haired man, overwhelmed as Jin's tongue explores him completely. When he pulls away from the kiss, Kenjaku starts laughing, and Jin gives him a worried look. "Are you…are you alright?"

"G-god, you're insane, Jin Itadori…"

Jin huffs, smiling softly but not denying it. "I'm gonna move now, okay?"

Jin starts slow, but his cock deliciously drags against every part of the curse's cunt. The pink haired man smirks, feeling Kenjaku's nails leaving dents on his back as he holds onto him. "A-aah…f-fuck, I…"

Jin laughs softly. "Is this your first time?"

"A-as a woman, yes…" Kenjaku can't stop his legs from trembling as they wrap tightly around Jin. "I've…c-courted many in all my bodies as a man, but this is…I-I've never…"

"I'll take that as a compliment, then, but…let me make it better for you." Jin huffs. He didn't miss the implications of…of body hopping that this monster was capable of, but…well, he didn't particularly care at this point. He puts two of his fingers in his wife's mouth. "Be good and suck on this for me, yeah?"

The mischievous look in his eye doesn't go unnoticed by the curse, but Kenjaku simply does as he's told. Jin rewards him with a kiss on his real mouth and adjusts him a little, before thrusting with a steady and brutal pace and making the curse see stars. Despite his whining, Kenjaku's cunt sucks his cock in hungrily as he's brutally fucked by the other.

The nails that rake against Jin's back and arms break the skin and only serve to spur him on. Kenjaku sobs when Jin pulls away from the kiss and removes his fingers from his mouth. The curse greedily sucks and marks the other's neck using his wife's mouth, all while begging him with his actual one. "Ngh! God, d-don't stop! Fuck, p-please, Jin-!!"

"C'mon, louder. Let me hear you."

"Y-yes, oh god, Jin-!!!"

Jin's hips still and he groans as he fills Kenjaku. He takes a few breaths before slowly starting to move again; fucking his cum deeper into the curse. The feeling of so much of it inside him has Kenjaku seeing stars, but what sends him into another orgasm was the realization that Jin was going to get him pregnant at this rate.

He was actually going to carry this man's child.

"O-ooh, fuuuck…" Kenjaku's body tenses, cunt squeezing him deliciously hard that it has Jin hissing again. He notices Kenjaku breathing deeply, his body twitching and limp, and gives him an apologetic smile. His hand gently strokes the pink flesh of the curse.

"You okay?"

"D-don't. Stop." Kenjaku manages to say in between breaths. Jin laughs softly, kissing him tenderly on his mouth and making the curse dizzy with delight.

"If you say so." Jin smirks, before hooking Kenjaku's legs over his shoulders. The curse screams something in a dialect Jin can't understand, but was clearly some kind of Japanese, when the human somehow reaches even deeper into him; tip kissing the entrance to his womb with every thrust and shaft deliciously rubbing against a spot inside him that has Kenjaku nearly blacking out. Jin was reaching every part of him, the deepest parts of him, and it was incredible. The human forces his tongue inside Kenjaku's mouth, and the curse's eyes roll back - body completely tense and overwhelmed - when Jin begins rubbing on his sensitive clit. This was all so much.

Kenjaku was going to lose his mind at this rate…

Not that he was complaining, though.

Jin's pace picks up, and Kenjaku feels him twitching inside. It doesn't take long until Jin spills inside him with a few messy thrusts, the curse mewling when he feels him spill right on his cervix. Though Jin doesn't stop rubbing on his clit, and this has the curse squirting his own fluids and making a mess of both their legs shortly after. Kenjaku whimpers when Jin flips him on his stomach, though doesn't make a move to stop him at all, Jin's hand finding its way around his neck once more. Bringing him close to his face, the curse's back arching beautifully underneath the human.

"A-ah, Jin…please, I want-" Kenjaku is cut off by Jin's lips on his mouth, sucking and kissing him tenderly.

"Shhh, shhh…I know, baby." Jin pulls out nice and slow, leaving just the tip before harshly thrusting it back in. "You like that, yeah?"

"Ngh…n-need...p-please!" Kenjaku's cunt is practically leaking with how wet he was. Jin fucks him slow and brutal, cock dragging along every part of his insides before being slammed back in.

"Thaat's it…good." Jin huffs into his ear, licking and biting his neck before pulling away. Kenjaku feels his heat leave his back as Jin repositions himself, placing his hands on Kenjaku's hips as the curse's head rests on the bed. "M'gonna move a bit faster now, yeah?"

Kenjaku just nods frantically and his moans turn into screams when Jin ruts into him like an animal in heat. The curse screaming in that dialect that Jin can't understand. Kenjaku's eyes roll back, mind going blank as his cunt greedily sucks and squeezes Jin's cock with every thrust. They both lose count of how many orgasms and hours go by, as Jin ruthlessly makes love to Kenjaku and his wife, with all the pent up feelings he has for them both.

All Kenjaku knew was that his mind was going blank. His legs felt like literal jelly and it's as if his body was being torn apart. He's never felt this close to breaking without actually dying before.

It was incredible.

"A-aaah, you're doing so fucking good, Kenjaku. Cum for me one more time, yeah?" Jin bites his lip, Kenjaku can feel him twitching and throbbing inside him again. "Almost there, baby. I'm so close…"

Kenjaku smiles, nearly delirious with pleasure, as the thought of carrying this man's children sends him over the edge, again. His legs trembling as he spills even more of his fluids onto the bed. "J-Jin, o-oh fuuck-!"

With one last, hard thrust, Jin stills inside him again - cock fully sheathed and throbbing as he gives Kenjaku another thick load. His cunt milks him deliciously, but he feels Jin filling him beyond what he can take - hot streams of cum dripping down his thighs. Kenjaku's almost sad that so much is going to waste.

Jin groans and nearly pulls out but Kenjaku quickly grabs his wrist.

"S-stay. Stay inside me…" Kenjaku barely manages to say, completely fucked out of his mind. Jin looks at him softly, carefully moving him without pulling out, so the both of them can lie down in a more comfortable position.

For a long while, their breathing was the only sound there was.

"Th-that was…" Kenjaku finally breaks the silence, but is unable to continue his sentence.

"Good?" Jin gently kisses the curse on the mouth, again.

"Nearly the best I've had in a while…" Kenjaku gulps, and looks at Jin cautiously - dare Jin say he almost looked nervous. "Th-the world I'm in…it isn't known for being the nicest, you know. You should leave me, while you can. It's safer for you. Curses, we aren-"

"No." Jin huffs. "I am not. Leaving you."

Kenjaku is silent for a while. "Why?"

"You brought Kaori back to me, in some way, even if she isn't…I mean, you aren't…" He gently strokes the curse and sighs. "But I'm not staying for just Kaori…you understand that, right?"

"I…I see." Kenjaku can't help the way his stomach flutters, or the warmth that blooms in his chest upon hearing that. It was irrational, and yet...

Jin takes a deep breath. He knew staying with the other was practically a death sentence for him. However, if he was to be honest with himself...he didn't really care anymore. Only...he worried for his child. "Just…look, I know I won't last long with you. So please promise me something. Promise me you'll continue to watch over my child even if I'm gone."

"And if I don't?"

Jin rolls his eyes, knowing the other was just messing with him. "Then I'll haunt you for the rest of your life."

"All the better to break it, then." Kenjaku laughs softly, and decides - for once in his life - to do something stupid for reasons outside his plan. Jin makes a confused look as he feels something almost constricting him, but then Kenjaku plants his mouth on Jin's and seals that silent vow with a kiss. The feeling is gone as soon as it came. "But…you have my word, Itadori Jin."

WRITING THIS WAS WOWZERS MAN. 😬Also, "watching over" isn't necessarily the same as "taking care of". But, anyways, if you like my work, consider donating! Edit: WTF WHY DOES THIS HAVE 75 NOTES??? NOBODY LOOK AT THIS WHAT

[father-time-and-baby-new-year]

haze

fantasizing about frat chapter president! eren....

pairing: Frat Boy!Eren x Fem!Reader, side Porco x Fem!Reader

tw: eren is MEAN as fuck, dubcon touching, cheating, degradation, power play, misogyny, abuse, ooc, i love porco but I'm slandering him here...so sorry. dark content.

eren slides a hand up your thigh from the mini-dress you're wearing, and you're just a little confused bc you're pretty sure he has a girlfriend, and you're pretty sure he knows you have a boyfriend.

but he clearly doesn't care. he's telling you to not make a scene, and you're indignant. well as indignant as you can be. you're soft around the edges, meek to a fault and you find it hard to raise your voice.

he's mocking you.

"is m-my boyfriend the only thing you know how to say?" he emphasizes your stutter. you nervously look around, locking your eyes with a boy with slicked-back dark blond hair and swimming-athlete broad shoulders. when you try to get up, eren's strong hand presses on your thigh to prevent you from escaping.

he follows your trembling gaze and a smirk creeps into his mouth, "that's him right? your boyfriend?" he spits the word out like it's coated in venom.

you don't confirm or deny but that's all eren needs.

"Galliard!" eren calls out. your eyes widen in surprise, and porco is surprised too. but nonetheless, he walks over, hesitation evident with every step.

he doesn't say anything about the way eren is touching you, about his hand groping your thighs like a lifeline.

you know porco. he's very prideful and stubborn and had a tendency to rush into things headfirst but he's also kind and gentle and immensely protective over you.

so, if he was all of these things, why did he stand before eren like a dog with its tail tucked between his legs? there was not even a hint of the usual bravado you've been accustomed to seeing when he was with reiner.

eren pulls you right next to him, his arm wrapped around your waist. there's practically no space in between you two. he's close enough to smell your shampoo.

"your girlfriend is pretty." he says flatly. no not flatly, there's a sneer accompanying his tone.

porco gulps.

you don't what's happening, but eren grabs your dress-clad tit with no hesitation, groping and squeezing your nipple. he must have noticed you weren't wearing a bra.

"isn't she pretty galliard."

your boyfriend is perplexed, unsure of what the fuck is happening: "ye-yeah she is." it's a lame comment and eren sighs like he's bored.

his sharp fingernails dig into the plush of your thigh, "how badly do you wanna join this frat, galliard?"

porco is trying to process what he's just been asked but the answer escapes before he could force it back, "m-more than anything." he repeats himself as if to assure himself, "more than anything."

eren smiles, too wide and full of teeth to be genuine. "that's good...that's good" he hums.

he runs a hand through his pretty dark hair, "well I'll cut to the chase. you wanna join my chapter and I wanna fuck your girlfriend."

you gasp, instantly looking to porco but he can't meet your eyes. why were you being treated like you had no agency? your noises of disagreements and whiny complaints are snuffed by eren's large hand covering your mouth.

"shut up. the men are talking."

he then redirects the conversation back to porco, "you really haven't trained her much, have you?"

what the fuck?! yeah sure you may have been the shyest kid in class but even you had your limits. you've always thought frats were stupid and couldn't understand your boyfriend's obsession with getting into one, especially this one, the supposedly most prestigious and exclusive one.

you bite down on eren's hand. he moves his hand away with an unnatural quickness, cursing under his breath.

"stupid bitch" if looks could kill, his green eyes would have shot you dead thousand times by now, "you're a wild fucking animal." than he gives your body a once-over, staring obnoxiously, "do you fuck like one too?"

porco also looked surprised and nervous. whether for himself or for you, you don't know.

"your girlfriend bit me." he states calmly to porco, "what are we gonna do about that?"

you can't move, you're still trapped by eren's hands and the way porco is standing is over you, he's locking you in.

"she'll apologize, she will."

"no I won't!" you shriek.

eren sighs, taking a long hit of his dab pen, zeroing in the smoke before blowing the cloud on porco's face. the blond merely winces.

"you heard the lady" the dark-haired boy shurgs, "so I have an idea."

you could feel your heartbeat pounding.

"Hit her."

time seemed to slow down. "w-what?" porco's face lost all of its color. "a slap or something. you can backhand her if you want to."

backhand her if you want to. the words echoed in your ears like a frenzy of sounds, you were only hearing it, can't even understand it.

eren pushes you onto his lap, and iron-clad grip on your waist. he transfers your weight like you're no more than a feather. you know he's an athlete, that he's strong, but this strong?

"i-i'm not going to do that."

the dark-haired boy chuckles, "how many generations of your family have been accepted into this frat huh? you have legacy and couldn't even get in your freshman year. jesus christ, you're literally only standing before me because you have legacy."

he's continuing his verbal assault, "and with this fuckin chick, stop your dramatics. it's so cute that you're acting like a good boyfriend when you had your tongue down pieck's throat literally last night."

"w-what" your voice is no more than a whisper, tears welling in your eyes.

you can't even hold yourself back as you stare at your boyfriends, no, ex-boyfriends' eyes and utter, "you are fucking pathetic."

you're not exactly surprised when you see his hand raised, and you brace yourself from the impact, closing your eyes shut.

the impact never comes. you open your eyes to see eren holding his wrist. he lets out a low whistle, "seesh were you really about to hit your girl?"

this is the first time you've seen porco sputter. eren takes another hit of his pen, "get the fuck out of here."

porco has the audacity to look back at you before he turns on his heel and leaves like a cowardly dog.

"let me go."

eren's lips are pressed to your neck, "no...i don't think i will."

kofi

taglist: @imjustsomebodyelse @forwardpair @cinnamon-n-roses @candy-hime

[ickymichi]

KNOCKOUT!

h. shinsou

warnings: swearing, fighting, vulgar talk, slight toxic behaviour.

things to know: underground fighter au, no quirk au! shinsous kinda ooc ig

word count: 1.5k

note: didn’t know how to end this as per. but was originally gonna be a lyric fic but then i said no. also pls do not be afraid to send on anything about this shinsou cause he’s currently clouding the membrane! reblogs are greatly appreciated <3

underground fighter!shinsou who came home 3 hours after his fight supposedly ended. unfortunately you couldn’t attend this one as you had your own work shift overlapping the fight times. you stayed up until the devils hour waiting for the tall male to trudge through the door, his usual large duffle bag either full of winning money or spare clothes slung over his shoulder.

“where were you?” one the bag hit the floor you spoke first, leaning against the wall while watching him toe off his air force. “what dya’ mean? i was at a match, you know that” he grumbled with a slight roll of his eyes and walked past you to the stuffy kitchen—silently noting another small hole in the wall—. “yeah i know that,” you said with a ‘duh’ tone, “but that ended three hours ago. where have you been in that time.”

shrugging his shoulders he finished off his water and lent on his elbows against the counter. “at the bar with the guys, what? i cant celebrate a win anymore? jesus” you looked at him like he told you he’d just grown an arm and three legs. “so you just didn’t think of inviting me, but every other bitch you kno-” “you were at fuckin’ work, i’m hardly gonna ask when i know the answer.”

again he rolled his eyes to the man above while lifting his hoodie over his frame and into the washing machine leaving him in his white wife beater, finally making his way out to the balcony while pulling a cigarette from the box in his pocket. “you know i finished just after the match was over, you couldn’t of just asked? was it to hard?” hitoshi blew the smoke in your opposite direction and looked towards you. “i cant have one night with my friends without you you attached to my hip all night huh? christ i’ll invite you next time if it annoys you that much woman” “so you think i’m clingy?” you scoffed with your arms crossed over your chest. hitoshi dryly laughed and looked down to the dark streets, people yelling and some coming home from night clubs and bars alike.

“maybe sometimes i think i do (y/n), listen to yourself right now.” your lips fell into a thin line at his comment, making you sigh and push yourself off the railing. “fuck you shinsou” you heard him kiss his teeth and turn to follow you through the narrow halls. “so i’m the bad guy again? all i said was that i didn’t want you hanging off my hip,” hitoshi went to follow you into the bedroom but was met with the door slammed in his face. “(y/n) baby please, c’mon i’m sorry i didn’t mean it in that way okay? just open the door please,” he waited another few seconds before hearing you shuffle then swing the door to show your glossy eyes. “one more chance hitoshi, one more and i swear if you pull shit like this i’m gone”

The bright lights, constant shouting, stuffy crowds and the smell of blood was something you grew accustomed to over the past year and a half. Thankfully, you didn’t have to get lumped into the huge crowd, being shinsous partner you you a seat at the ringside beside his trainers.

Tonight he was up against a rather tough opponent, one who played as dirty as the sport itself. And Hitoshi was feeling the effects of his foul play by the third round. His chest heaving, the hard muscles covered in sweat and a mix between his own and the other guys blood. You could already see that he would have a black eye and bruises along his cheek, aswell as a busted eyebrow.

Even with all his current injuries, it wasn’t like the fighter opposite him wasn’t feeling it either. Anyone could see he was just as tired as Shinsou, a limp in his step showing a particular hit to the stomach had him doubling.

“keep going ‘toshi one more hit and he’s out!” your lilac haired lover perked up slightly at the sound of your encouragement, brining his tape wrapped hands back up from his side, flexing them to feel the hard guard on his knuckles press against his skin. “oh? That your own little supporter?” the tan male taunted at shinsou, making him raise an eyebrow for a split second until he realised what the comment meant.

“yeah? What of it?”

“she looks like she’s taste real nice, bet she does huh? Probably wouldn’t put up much of a fight if I tried to get a taste myself” Hitoshi felt his blood boil at his words. “fuck off and just focus on what’s infront of you jackass” he chuckled darkly at Shinsou’s words and let a lopsided grin take over his beat up face. “ah c’mon sh must be sweet as if your gettin’ all tough. c’mon just once taste of that little kitty ca-”

Shinsou didn’t let him finish his vulgur sentence before he brought his leg up aiming his shin to kick into his unprotected rib cage. The minute his opponent hit the floor Hitoshi was on top him landing punch after punch to his face. “He’s out Shinsou! He’s out!” both his trainers lept up into the ring to pull him off the man who was now out cold. As they held him back Shinsou spat down onto the other fighter before raising a fist in the air.

—

“you did so good out there ‘toshi. ‘m really proud” you leant more into his side seaking the warmth you needed as you walked through the dark city streets. Hitoshi winced slightly as you pressed against a growing bruise, but of course he wasn’t going to tell you to get off him so he kept quiet. “thanks babe. did it all for you of course” he said the end of his sentence in a playful tone while pressing a kiss to your cheek. Knowing that the both of you find those lovey dovey parts of relationships too funny to take serious.

“how ‘bout we go celebrate in the bar, we can go alone or meet up with the others.” You hummed as an indication that you were thinking of an answer to five before letting a teasing grin grace your features. “we can do that, but I kinda wanna take my winnings first.”

He didn’t know exactly what you meant until you were leading him to the darker alley at the side of the path, falling against the cold brick. His eyes trained your face for until you brought your hands to his bruised cheek to pull him down, meeting his split lip halfway.

Hitoshi only pulled away until he felt his lungs beg for air. Once he did he took your smaller face in his large hands, holding you as if you were a fragile piece of fine china. Looking at you as if you were an angel sent from above for his viewing. He felt his chest tighten as you brought your hands to rest over his own, careful of the cuts and bruises along his knuckles.

“fuck, I fucking love you so much baby. Wont let anyone say shit or do anything to you. promise” he whispers as he brought his lips back to your own. Nearly Going against your claims of ‘hating the lovey dovey shit of relationships.”

“You ever think of quitting all this?”

Your voice was just above a whisper. Taking your boyfriend out of a slight trance he was in. “uh yeah sometimes I guess, why?” you shrugged at his question, really because you didn’t want an argument to start up. You know shit would hit the fan if you told him that you hated his job, how you hate that nearly every night you have to clean his beat up face in your cramped bathroom. You know he’d argue that it’s the only way to get money. Your job barely scraping the monthly rent if it wasn’t for his.

“i know what your thinking, and I can’t just quit because you don’t like seeing me with a few cuts and bruises” he laughed slightly at the soft pout now on your lips, letting his hands fall on your hips to rub against the exposed skin. “but sometimes it’s not just cuts and bruises hitoshi. Like 2 weeks you nearly broke two ribs for gods sake.” “yeah, but i didn’t. so I don’t see why your all mad about it. it’s not like I haven’t been taking beatings all my life anyway, what’s some weaklings that are only trying to make quick money.”

You couldn’t really argue with his point, and again, you weren’t going to because you didn’t feel like going to sleep in an empty bed. “isn’t that what your doing?” playfully, he slapped your ass and narrowed his eyes. “hey, i’m not some weakling. You see these guys?” you gave a noise of affirmation as you reached up to feel his bicep. “okay big guy calm it while I kiss your boo boos better.”

[holdontohopelove]

oh my god i found this in my drafts

Actual things I have said/thought/screamed/scared my dog with while marathoning 11 seasons, 2 movies, and 218 episodes of the X-Files.

(In no particular order)

“I hate this fucking show.”

“I love this fucking show.”

“JESUS CHRIST Mulder is saying my last name. I’m swooning.”

“This fucking show. Oh my God.”

“Oh honey.”

“Uhhhhh the vibes with this undressing scene are...what?”

“Somebody’s JEALOUS.”

“My sexuality is Scully in a utility shirt screaming at people.”

“What the fuck is this show?”

“No. Dogs are off limits. We do not mess with the dogs.”

“Fuck no fuck no fuck no. I am not about that life.”

“YAS QUEEN”

“This is literally the best episode of any television show ever written” (all things lol)

“Mulder. Yesss. Mulder.”

“AGHGHGHGH GROSS GROSS GROSS GROSS”

“THE FUCK IS THAT?”

“I can’t with this?”

“How did people watch this shit live?”

“OH MY GOD OH MY GOD”

“Seriously, 90s people had way more patience. How did they go months on these cliffhangers?”

“Jesus Fucking Christ.”

“Light cream cheese. This episode is pure fucking gold.”

“Scully in a headset. I dig it.”

“Oh. Ohhhhh” (heart eyes, hands clasped)

“Gillian Anderson’s voice is a genre all its own.”

“God this show. Every bi’s dream.”

“Scully demonstrating to Tea’ Leoni how to sprint in high heels is GIVING ME LIFE.”

“This fucker.”

“Gillian Anderson’s hair this season is ON POINT.”

“Scully being fully over Doggett is a whole ass mood.”

“Wow. Boobs. Just...wow.”

“God, the hair. Mulder really missed out on good Scully hair bc Jesus.”

“Wait. What?”

“I can’t with how OOC this all is.”

“Is...Reyes hitting on Scully at literally zero hour of this baby’s birth?”

“This is...a lot to process.”

“I demand a rewrite. Mulder would not have missed this baby’s birth.”

“YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS.”

“New credits? No. False. Cancelled. Fuck you all.”

“I’m over this.”

“This fucking season.”

“THAT LITTLE SMILE OMG.”

“So many filler episodes.”

“Doggett and Reyes...I could get behind this. I guess”

“No no no no no no no the pain.” (William omg)

“DAVID DUCHOVNY IS BACK IN THE CREDITS AND I AM LIVING FOR THIS.”

“MULDER.”

“This episode actually doesn’t hurt as bad as I planned.”

“TO SEE A MAN ABOUT THE TRUTH.” (Screaming)

“OBAMA OBAMA OBAMA OBAMA.”

“Same, Jimmy, same.”

“‘On the net?’ This is not how we talked in 2016.“

“They are SO married. I will never not be convinced of this.”

“An analogy: X-Files edition: My attraction to Scully in the original run is to my attraction to Mulder in the revival.”

“He really did get better with age. Jesus. I’d get that.”

“OMG she is making heart eyes at him.”

“This is not as dire as I thought.”

“Low cut blouse much? Holy fuck.”

“Wow we are really jumping right back into this. It’s like no time has passed.”

“Well, no time has passed...Season 9 wrapped an hour ago in this house.”

“I feel rabid.”

“FUCK.”

“Why would Scully work anywhere BUT a place called Our Lady of Sorrows?”

“Scully’s literal whole life is Our Lady of Sorrows.”

“Fuck she just stabbed that girl. Calm down, Scully, Christ.”

“Revival Scully is not at all soft and I don’t know how I feel about it.”

“Y’all need a lot of fucking therapy.”

“This show is really one long, giant trauma.”

“I’m going to need a detox when this is all over. Seriously.”

“The dog is literally judging me.”

“DAMN RIGHT YOU’LL NEVER HAVE A NORMAL EXISTENCE. Look at these two morons.”

“God this show...absolutely no hope.”

“ORIGINAL CREDITS FTW”

“YES YES YES YES YES”

“All the throwbacks, give me all the throwbacks.”

“This...is actually amazing.”

“Why did people hate the revival?”

“Coming directly off the pain of Season 9 that was never addressed, this is absolutely so well done.”

“How can there possibly be ANY ambiguity left about Scully and Mulder?”

“They have literally referred to William as Mulder’s child multiple times.”

“FUCK.”

“This is...a lot to unpack.”

“Mulder’s hair has taken a novedive since MSI”

“His fuckability is going down while Scully’s is climbing back up.”

“I’ve been waiting 23 years to say that. DEAD. BURIED. CREMATED.”

“Who are these fucks?”

“That face. I cannot.”

“Really, why did people hate this?”

“This is completely tolerable compared to 8/9 angst.”

“I am absolutely living for this. ABSOLUTELY. LIVING. FOR. THIS.”

[whump-town]

Take Me to Church

Here it is: my religious!Hotch fic turned Bisexual!Hotch fic. I hope you enjoy my hard work, tears, and disaster bi-thoughts  

Warning: language, sex, homosexuality **there’s no real need for a warning for that but I’d just like to market this to my fellow gays**, religious trauma, Catholic guilt, child abuse, smoking, mention of AIDS in passing but no one has it, character death(s) **not anyone major**, Aaron Hotchner’s mega big boy grande sized guilt complex, ooc bc Aaron Hotchner has the proper emotions, and just general all around intense feelings 

The only Heaven I'll be sent to, Is when I'm alone with you, I was born sick, but I love it, Command me to be well

Word count:  5,794

Praying never made much sense to Aaron Hotchner. 

As a child, he’d prayed with crimson teeth and a bleeding tongue for his mother to be spared in his father’s rampant beatings. The priest always said that prayer shouldn’t be selfish. As he sat on his bruised knees and whispered between sobs, he hadn’t been thinking about himself. He’d been thinking about the little brother in his mother’s womb. About the pregnancy that wouldn’t survive if his father didn’t stop hitting on her. About his poor mother who looked sicker each day.

He must have done something wrong because when God had answered his prayers...

“Come on now son. Don’t be difficult,” the priest’s heavy hands pull him away from his mother’s grave. His suit hadn’t fit well that morning but logged with the rain pouring overhead, it now hangs from his bones. They make their way back home. Back to his miserable son of a bitch father. 

That night, the priest had tucked him into bed and Aaron rolls over in his bed to put his back to the man. As the old man turned to cut the lights, Aaron finally speaks for the first time all day. He’d found his voice deep within his chest and laced it with his father’s unhinged anger. “I killed her,” he whispers, hot tears running down his cheeks. 

The priest shakes his head. “No.” And, the old man could never know this, but what he said next would stay with Aaron for the rest of his life. “It was her time, son.”

God had killed her.

That day was the first time Aaron had ever seen his father cry. He’d stood in the hallway and watched his father sob on his knees, cursing God and swearing up a storm. At seven-years-old, he wondered if God had a sense of humor. He must, after all, to leave Aaron all alone. 

Ten-years later he stood in the same spot his father had kneeled in. He’d looked up at the ceiling and prayed again. He’d begged for his father’s life to be spared. “Just this once, okay, just this once---” but his father had never been a good man. A shitty excuse for a dad but Sean thinks he’s a good man. That’s what mattered: Sean. That’s the only thing that had ever mattered. “For Sean, please? He’s never done anything wrong.”

His father died two days later. A heart attack. The doctor’s called it mercy. For who? The man who beat him senseless for fifteen years before he just sold Aaron off to a boarding school. Calling Aaron’s inability to make friends and emotional outbursts the product of the devil and not his senseless beating. The same man who called Aaron writing with his left hand the simplest proof that his mother had been a whore. She had to have cheated to have created a bastard like Aaron.

Mercy? Is that really what he’d deserved?

He has bible scriptures carved into his back. Thin white lines left by his father’s heavy hand and the black belt he wore to court each Tuesday. The only mercy he’s ever known is the black surrounder right before he falls asleep. That twisted hope that maybe his dad hit him too hard. That he won’t wake up this time. 

It felt like communion-- Eucharist, standing to receive his bread and wine. 

The body of Christ.

“Daddy please-” he makes no sound as the belt comes down over his shoulder. Any noise is a symbol of greater guilt, a better reason to keep hitting. He doesn’t cry, he doesn’t move. 

Amen.

Remember, God is always watching. No bullshitting, he knows.

Aaron cums with a cry. A sob really. 

Sam lifts his head from where he’s buried it in Aaron’s neck, leaving the hickey he’d been sucking to die on its own. He sits up, his arousal forgotten as his heart pounds in his chest with fear. “Are you alright,” he asks, pulling them apart with a quick jerk. His hands are traveling down but he stops when Aaron’s hand grabs his wrist. “Baby, if I hurt you---”

Aaron shakes his head but the tears streaming down his face says otherwise. “I’m sorry,” he gasps. He buries his head in his hands, shoulders shaking as he can’t stop the tears. Sam moves out of the way of his legs, giving Aaron the space necessary to curl into himself.

Sam still has no idea what’s wrong. It had been fine. Things were fine. 

It occurs to him a moment too late.

“Fuck,” he curses, seething. Not at Aaron or the mood now officially lost--- but for the boy that Aaron never got to be. To the God that Aaron believes so feverishly and unwavering in. “It’s alright,” he soothes, moving along the bed to where Aaron is. He pulls his boyfriend into his lap, holding Aaron to his chest. “Nothing is going to happen, Aaron. It’s going to be okay.”

Sam has never been religious. It wasn’t something his parents had considered important. Standing at over 6’5 and two hundred pounds of just muscle, no one even suspects he’s anything but straight. People who do know… no one’s going to say anything to a guy like him. The same thing goes for Aaron. He may be a little on the scrawny side but he’s 6’2 and no one blinks an eye at the two of them spending so much time together. 

It’s not people they have to worry about. 

They can be cruel and unaccepting but AIDS is still rampant through-out not only the college’s campus but through-out the gay community. 

But Aaron’s a little too preoccupied with God. 

Sam’s not even sure if there’s such a thing.

“Aaron!” Picking him up by his shoulders, he pulls Aaron upright. They’ve passed sobbing and moved to a panic attack. “Alright,” Sam fails to soothe. He pulls Aaron off the bed, holding him close when his legs shake beneath him. “Easy,” he mumbles, his heartbreaking--- Aaron can’t walk. It takes a great bit of work on Sam’s part but with a grunt, he lifts Aaron off his feet.

Stumbling in the direction of the bathroom, he carries Aaron. “It’s gonna be alright,” Sam promises. This isn’t the first time this has happened. Sam would like to think he’s a good boyfriend (he is). He did as much research as he could. So that he would know how to help Aaron the next time one of these events started happening.

Into the freezing shower they go. 

Clutched, naked body to naked body, they rock until Aaron’s broken sobs die down. Until Sam can feel Aaron’s breathing steady out, hot exhales washing over his goosebump riddled flesh.

Against the bare skin of Sam’s shoulder, Aaron whispers Hail Mary to himself. His long fingers tapping against his thumb like counting rosary beads, “---of thy womb, Jesus. Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners now---” It’s the only coping mechanism he’s ever learned. 

Sam presses a kiss to his temple. Aaron hates that he turns his head for more. Turns his head until Sam’s hands are tangled in his hair and holding him tightly. Sam kisses him softly, full of love. He doesn’t deserve that.

“Sodomy is a sin,” he whispers, against Sam’s lips. 

Sam smiles, shaking his head. He doesn’t care. “Did you like it,” Sam asks, voice husky. He wraps himself back around Aaron, shaking from the cold of the water still pouring down over them. Fingers moving up Aaron’s back, he tangles them in his hair. 

Aaron… knows the answer. He also knows that sin is often appealing. Sam is the sin that Aaron can never walk away from. What he always comes back for. “Yes,” he answers, honestly. He had liked it. He’d liked it a lot. Sex with Sam is gentle and overwhelming and--- sin. It’s still sin. 

“That’s all that matters,” Sam presses kisses back to Aaron’s neck. Smiling against his skin when Aaron arches into the touch. 

Aaron can never make Sam understand that this principle isn’t that simple. It’s a black and white morality. Heaven or hell. 

But, maybe… 

Sam reaches around behind him and cuts the water off, Aaron shivers against his chest leaning closer to the touches that are trailing down his body. Sam pulls him closer so that Aaron’s in his lap. With a grunt, Aaron allows Sam to push into him and mouth open in a silent cry of pleasure he falls into Sam’s shoulder. 

“Jesus,” Sam curses, pulling Aaron closer. “You---” he moans, tilting his head back. This time, Aaron’s sets the pace. Slow and steady. It hurts but it’s an ache he’s familiar with. The lube from earlier mostly washed away but he’s prepped and anything is better than thinking about Hell. 

His doomed eternity. 

“You’re so good, baby boy.” Sam holds him close, his fingers digging into Aaron’s hips. “Fu-Fuck---”

Why is it that the only thing that has ever made sense to him a sin?

Sam dies in the middle of first semester their Junior year. Though it’s never stated, it’s Aaron’s fault. Sam wouldn’t have been on the road that if Aaron just prayed harder or been a better man. Panic attacks are a product of a shaky relationship with God and Aaron wouldn’t have had one, he wouldn’t have called Sam freaking out, if he’d just… believed harder. 

Aaron knows it’s his fault. He never gets over that guilt. 

He marries Haley at the end of Senior year and they invite Sam’s parents to the wedding. No one knows the true extent of Aaron and Sam’s relationship but Haley knows something was going on between the two. They’d been high school sweethearts, separated by his years spent away at college. Separated by Aaron’s love for a man.

He comes home different but she loves him. She also knows that her mother approves of Aaron’s God-fearing ways. Religion is good in a man like him, her mother had warned, you can see the darkness in him. She bites her tongue and moves on. 

Until she sees the darkness too.

The divorce breaks him. 

He starts having panic attacks again, worse than the ones in college. No one notices. He knows they just write him off as a dick. He’s just a robot to them. Emotionless and he can work with that. So, he is a robot. Just marching through life and flying by the seat of his pants, hoping that it all goes well. 

But he knows… each night as the panic bubbles in his chest and has him falling to his knees that hell is the only place he’s going. It’s going to take more than prayers to save a sinner like him.

“Hotch?” He jumps at the sudden intrusion. Looking to his left, none other than Emily Prentiss is standing on the balcony. She’s grinning from ear to ear and shaking her head. “What are you doing up so late?”

The cigarette trapped between his lips should answer that well enough.

The thing is, he’s not as slick as he thinks he is. She’s noticed him pulling away. Dave has noticed--- hell, everyone has noticed something is wrong. So, when Emily Prentiss had been tossing and turning in her own bed and smelled the wafting, faint scent of cigarette smoke she’d gotten curious. She certainly hadn’t expected to find him.

“Mind some company?”

And with those three simple words she’d pulled him from the edge. 

That night they burned through four cigarettes. Sin, that night, had been just as he remembered it once being. For a moment, as he stood--- her leaning against him and him leaning against her--- he had managed a smile. With a cigarette between his teeth, he’d taken his first real breath in years. 

Foyet attacks him in his apartment and as he lies bleeding he hopes this is it. That the world will flicker out, he’s just a candle drowning it’s wax. Will there be a light or…

He wakes up in the hospital and he’s never been this cold in his life.

It’s Emily’s voice that pulls him from the white walls and the pain. She’s saying something about cigarettes and the seasons changing. He smiles, drugged and submissive, when she proposes the team go to Dave’s and get drunk. He doesn't’ even think about God, about the sin and the eternity in hell waiting for him. He just thinks about his team and the only family he’s ever really been a part of. 

He wakes up thrashing--- a broken sob on his lips. There’s so much pain and he can’t think about anything other than death. Death and Hell and sin and the pain, oh fuck the pain. 

Thin fingers wrap around his, squeezing and he looks up and finds JJ softly soothing him. Her fingers are ghosting along his forearms, rubbing circles into his pale skin. “Just breathe,” she instructs and he’s reminded of Sam and that freezing shower and the---

“Aaron!” she calls and the fortitude, the conviction in her eyes sobers him. “You have to stop,” she tells him, her touch turning hard and that he can focus on. That pulls him back down. “Breathe,” and slowly he relaxes again. She’s softened and he watches the tears pool in her eyes. “Don’t look at me like that,” she chides, softly.

He manages to squeeze her hand.

“We almost lost you,” she whispers and that hadn’t occurred to him. His death happens to other people. It’ll just be… nothing. He must be very high or maybe broken because he thinks of nothing. The nothingness that happens after death and not raging, flaming pits of hell. 

JJ presses a kiss to his temple and he closes his eyes. It’s a tender love he… he’s forgotten. “Don’t ever scare me like that again,” she says, her thumb rubbing against his hand. “I don’t like job hunting.”

He doesn’t know how to tell her that the team wouldn’t fall apart if Foyet had chosen to kill him.

She doesn’t know how to tell him that isn’t true.

Foyet does kill Haley and for a long time, it’s like he’s killed Hotch too.

“Hotch!”

The last he’d seen of Emily, she was displeased with his decision to decline his invitation to girl’s night. First, of all, he’s not that dumb. He knew damn well that they wanted him to tag along because Emily had told them about his date with the cute blonde at the coffee shop had gone tits up. Of course, she’d chosen to leave out that his date had failed because she’d entered the shop and wolf-whistled at the sight of him.

But, she has chosen to blame the entire thing on him because he should have told her.

Ah, silly him.

Now, he’s waiting on his front porch for Will to drop her off at his place. Does she have an apartment of her own? Yes. But she’s a clingy drunk and it’s custom for her to come to sleep in his bed. Besides, who else is going to hold her hair up while she pukes?

He smiles when he sees her. God… leave it to him to pick Emily Prentiss, of all people, to be his best friend. Well, he’s not really sure he chose or picked her so much as ended up within her mercy. “Emily,” he greets softly, smiling when she walks right up to him and headbutts his chest. She just falls straight into him. 

He shuffles to accommodate her weight but they do this little dance frequently. With one hand on the back of her head, he raises the other to wave to Will that he’s free to go. The detective nods and pulls the car into reverse, JJ and Garcia in the back shouting their own goodbyes.

“Alright,” Hotch rubs her shoulders, shivering from the night’s chill. “Pigging back ride?” 

She nods and it’s only with practiced ease that they manage this so easily. 

As he stands, he gives her a second to adjust herself before he starts walking back towards his porch. This is the exact reason he does squats at the gym, so his thighs don’t shake as he carries her up the stairs. 

“Oh,” Emily whines into his back, where her face is buried. “I hope I didn’t wake Jack.”

He’s overly careful to make sure he doesn’t hit her legs as he steps into the door. Stopping to shut the door behind them he tells her, “he’s not here.” He scowls with concentration as he moves down the hall. “He’s spending the weekend with his cousins.” He’d told her this earlier, too many times. It is one of the smaller reasons she’d invited him to girls night: so he wouldn’t have to be alone in his house. 

They share many secrets. He’d been the first person on the team to know she’s gay. He still remains one of the few who know. JJ and Garcia know-- tequila always makes her lose her grip. He also knows that she wants to have a family and about her giant crush on JJ. 

Just like she knows that sitting in his empty house stresses him out. He turns into the empty walls and all he can think about is being completely alone while Foyet was trying to hunt down his son and Haley. She knows this and… she’d left him here all by himself.

“Emily,” he whispers, feeling her hot tears soak into the back of his shirt. He’s not mad or even frustrated, he’s just sad. He can’t do anything about it just yet. So, he takes her back to his room. He helps her out of her blouse, replacing it with his George-town hoodie so she can curl her legs into. 

Only once she’s situated, his back turned so she can hiccup and dry her tears while she slips into a pair of her own shorts he kneels down in front of her. “Emily.” He shakes his head, she’s still inconsolable, so he pulls her to his chest. “Emily, I’m a grown man.” He rubs her back, “I can handle being in my own home.”

She only cries harder and it hurts him because whatever it is that’s really bothering her he can’t fix. 

“Would you love me more if I wasn’t a lesbian,” she asks, sobbing into his shoulder.

Well… he blanks. What is he even supposed to say to that? Now she’s really crying and he’s-- he can’t think of a single thing to say. “Emily…” he shakes his head. “I--I don’t care that you’re a lesbian.” And why would he? How many times have they had the ‘it would be like kissing my brother/sister’ conversation? Or the ‘even if I were straight…’? He doesn’t feel sexually attracted to her. 

He just… he loves her because she’s his family. 

“You don’t,” she asks, sniffling. She pushes his shoulders away from her so that she can see his eyes. So she can see if he’s lying. “You don’t hate me?” Because she’s certain that he does sometimes. Like he can stand the thought of her. 

He shakes his head. “It would be very hypocritical of me to hate you for being gay,” he says, without really thinking about what that means. At what he’s admitting.

Though she doesn’t say anything, the admission sobers her. With tender care he tucks her into bed. Smiling softly when she pulls him down beside her.

They fall asleep on their sides, facing one another. He falls asleep first. Too exhausted to wait her out. Between them, she gently reaches over and brushes her thumb over his cheek bone. Trialing it along the facial hair he’s let grow over the course of their long weekend off. 

He breaks her heart.

“So, are we just not going to talk about it?”

They’re watching a basketball game from earlier in the week because it’s Tuesday and she gets to pick what they watch on Tuesdays. Granted, it’s sports and he hates sports which means that he gets to pick whether or not they sit close. She knows something is wrong because he puts the entire couch between them. They’re not even sharing a blanket and he always lets her have some of his blankets.

She gets cold easily. 

“Talk about what, Emily?” The way he says her name… it’s not right. He always says Emily kindly, loving. He says her name and it makes her proud to be Emily but this time it’s a reprimand and she sees it for exactly what it is—- an attempt to push her away. To make her feel afraid to push on.

But she’s been gay for so long, openly gay. It takes more than a little bit of attitude to scare her off. “You,” she says, softly. “You’re gay, Aaron, and—-“

He flinches at the word gay. Recoiling. “Emily,” his tone shifts to pleading. 

“You—-“ she shifts too. She turns her body to face her, no longer relaxed. “Aaron, there’s nothing wrong with being gay.”

Sodomy, Aaron thinks. First and for most, there’s sodomy and it’s a sin to love a man. A sin to love men in a way he could never love Haley. Which Emily would understand if he told her about his sex life with Haley. Rather, his nonexistent sex life with Haley. He loved Haley so much but he could never love her the right way. The way God had intended.

By the time he manages to raise his eyes to hers, there are tears streaming down his face. He’s so helplessly broken and he can’t even hide it.

“Oh, Aaron.” Emily pulls him against her chest, rubbing up and down his back as he sobs. “I…” she doesn’t know what to say. She knows it’s the Catholisim here at play but her youth was so very different from his. Matthew had saved her from the fate Aaron had succumbed to. Matthew had shown her the churches many faults and…

Aaron had no one. 

No one but the Bible and a God who never answered back.

“There’s nothing wrong with being gay,” she whispers, rocking their bodies gently. “There’s nothing wrong with you Aaron.”

He sobs even harder. He wishes he could believe that. He does. He wishes he could but…

They agree to never talk about it. Meaning, Emily begrudgingly lets it go.

The universe isn’t ready for Hotch to shove it under the rug though.

There’s this barista at the coffee shop downtown--- more than a barista, he’s the owner, actually. He’s a giant. He almost makes Hotch feel small in comparison. In college, he’d been a football player but he’d messed his knee up pretty bad Junior year. He became dependent on the painkillers he’d received after surgery. He’d dropped out of college a few months later.

Hotch learns all of this only after two coffees.

One that he has Monday with the man’s phone-number and name scribbled onto the side of his cup. His cheeks had turned a furious shade of pink when Morgan had asked who Charlie is and if she was pretty. For some reason, despite coaching himself over and over in the mirror that he’d never go back--- Hotch goes back to the coffee shop Thursday. 

This time as Hotch is handing the other man a five dollar bill he adds his own phone-number and name attached with a simple sticky-note.

He’s not even out the door yet when his phone vibrates. 

“I thought I’d scared you off, mysterious FBI man.”

It makes him stop in his tracks. A smile tugs at his lips and there isn’t a single thought in his head about church or God or his father just this impossibly good feeling in his chest. It’s been so long since he’s done the flirting thing but he replies: “As good as mysterious FBI man sounds, I typically go by Aaron. Besides, it takes a little bit more than a phone-number to scare me off”

The texts keep coming and Hotch doesn’t mind.

Charlie tells him about college and Hotch tells him about the team. It’s out of character for him to be so open but it’s just coffee and flirting and a really hot barista. 

The feeling is very mutual.

“Kiss me, g-man.”

Hotch shakes his head, chuckling when Charlie throws his hips over Hotch’s waist. “You’d better---” whatever threat he’s making half-heartedly turns into a groan when Charlie starts planting open mouth kisses along his collar. Sucking a hickey under his ear where it will be painfully obvious to the team. 

When Hotch lets out a grunt, his hand grabbing at Charlie’s shirt and the other going to his hair Charlie laughs. He buries his face in Hotch’s neck, his hand traveling down to the front of his pants. “Is that your gun?” he pulls back with a smirk. 

Lightly, he pushes Aaron back on the bed. Charlie’s nimble fingers wrap around his jeans, pulling the tight fabric off of his ass. 

“I don’t remember asking for this,” Hotch grunts, fist clenched tightly in the bedsheets. It’s the only way he can assure that he won’t go bucking into Charlie’s palm the minute he starts touching again. He’s not going to cave like that.

To his credit, Charlie stops. He plants his hands on both sides of Hotch’s hips, his mouth sending a dangerous gust of warm air over Hotch’s straining cock. He lifts an eyebrow, “say the word, Aaron.” Say the word and it stops. They don’t dance along fancy lines like that. Charlie wouldn’t do that. 

Sitting up, Aaron wraps his legs around Charlie’s hips. He runs his fingers up through Charlie’s hair, kissing him. With a smile he pulls away and whispers, “fuck me, Charlie.”

And he’ll be damned if he doesn’t do just that. 

Sodomy is way better than Aaron remembers.

They’re about three months into this when Charlie learns that Hotch hasn’t told a soul about him. At least, not really. Not past the point of passing in conversation. Hell, he hasn’t even told them that Charlie isn’t some bombshell blonde woman but a 6’4 black man who owns the coffee shop. 

“Fine,” Hotch caves despite the anxiety leaving him so unnerved he’s shaking. “Do you want to come with me to Dave’s this weekend?” He’s got an edge to his tone. He’s hoping Charlie takes the bait and rolls his eyes. He almost hopes for a fight.

Charlie nods his head, “I would like to, actually.”

Fuck. 

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. 

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

It’s not okay. It’s far from it. 

He sits on edge for the rest of the week. Begging for a case. None come.

If Charlie has anything to say about Hotch letting go of his hand when they step out of the car, he doesn’t say anything. He does offer him a supportive smile, reaching between them to squeeze Aaron’s bicep.

“Dave,” Hotch breathes the other man’s voice and Charlie can hear the panic seeping into his deep tone. But then he just blanks. 

Charlie stretches his hand out, “I’m Charlie.”

Dave gets over his momentary shock very quickly. “Charlie,” Dave shakes his head with a smile. He avoids the hand being offered and pulls the younger man in for a hug. “I have heard so much about you! I was just a little shocked. I was expecting--”

Charlie laughs, “a woman.”

Dave claps him on the back. “Well, yes, I was.” He smiles at Hotch next, pulling him in for a hug too. Dave can feel just how unnerved Hotch is but he doesn’t comment. He just squeezes him a little tighter. “More so,” Dave says, “I was expecting a blonde. He really likes blondes.”

Charlie glances back at Aaron, keeping his smile in place even when Aaron can’t look up from his intense battle with the floor. 

“Well, come on in! I’ve got enough bourbon and food in here to feed a small army!”

Charlie steps inside first, Aaron hot on his heels.

Charlie turns around, to look back at Aaron. Calling the other man’s name for attention. “Aaron,” he calls softly, grabbing his hand. “Show me to the bathroom.” 

Hotch nods his head, eyes vacant as he moves on through the room. Ghosting. “It’s, ugh,” Hotch points lamely to the door. 

Charlie pulls him into the small room. Aaron making a small grunt of protest. “Look at me,” says, stern but not overbearing. “Aaron, please.”

It takes a moment but Aaron pulls his eyes off the floor. He grimaces when a tear falls down his cheek, ashamed of this display of emotion. This vulnerability.

With a sad smile, Charlie wipes it away with the pad of his thumb. “They didn’t know did they?”

Leaning forward, Hotch buried his face in Charlie’s blue t-shirt. It’s old and soft and it does nothing to slow his tears. He shakes his head. “They didn’t.”

Fuck. Charlie wraps his arms around Hotch, pulling him close. “Why didn’t you just say so?”

What other options are there? If Charlie hadn’t forced his hand Hotch would have happily died in the blissful lie he’d created. He could have died alone. No need to come out. Hell, if he’d just found another blonde woman he could have married her and died “straight”. 

Anything is better than this in-between. 

“Aaron,” Charlie breathes his name sadly. He doesn’t know what to say. His family had disowned him. So, he can’t just reassure Aaron it’ll be okay but Dave took it so well. “Have you even given them a chance?”

Well… Dave did take it very well and Emily already knows. 

“No,” he answers honestly. 

Charlie presses a kiss to his temple, asking, “maybe you should give them the benefit of the doubt?”

A knock at the door makes them both jump. 

“Hotch,” Reid whines from the other side. “I really have to go.”

Hotch smiles and that makes Charlie smile. “Good?” he asks.

Hotch nods, “good.”

The pair step out of the bathroom. 

Reid blushes and slides past. 

“You don’t think he thinks we were…”

Hotch nods, “more than likely.”

Heading back down the hall, Charlie leans into Hotch’s side. “Which one was that?”

“Reid.”

Charlie hums his understanding. Cuter than he’d imagined. Aaron had said tall and thin but it really did the genius no justice. He’s an attractive young man. “You didn’t tell me he was cute.”

Wrapping his arm around Charlie’s waist he pulls the other man closer. His heart is beating hard in his chest but he kisses the other man, closing his eyes and enjoying this moment. Separating just enough to say, “I think he said he plays for your team. If you’re interested.”

“My team,” Charlie repeats. He runs a finger along Aaron’s brow, sweeping his hair back. “My team is you,” Charlie rolls his eyes. “Doofus.”

Hotch’s jaw drops. “Doofus?” 

Charlie smiles, “my doofus.”

Emily stops at the mouth of the hall, having heard the dee rumbling sound of voices “That’s fucking adorable.”

Hotch groans, pushing his face into Charlie’s chest. 

“Don’t groan at me,” she says. “You’re the bastard that came out to me. Ghosted me. Then went and got a boyfriend.”

Hotch grimaces, “Emily…”

She waves him, turning her attention to Charlie. “You,” she sticks her hand out and they share a handshake. “You got yourself a good one. He can be an ass though.”

Charlie chuckles at that, “he really can be. Also, insufferable.”

Emily opens her mouth in happy shock. “Right? What about him being a know-it-all?”

Charlie nods, “don’t forget being a tight ass.”

Hotch feels a comment about their sex lives attempting to roll of his tongue. Something along the lines of Charlie saying he’d liked his ass last night— instead he just grunts. “Enough about me,” he grumbles. 

Emily smiles at both of them. She really is happy. Hotch deserves to be happy. With a smirk she motions for them to follow her. “Come on, drinks?”

Somehow, despite everything Hotch had convinced himself, everything is fine.

Charlie ends up wondering off with Morgan. The two deep into a conversation about a beam Morgan’s building around. Hotch had watched Charlie gag down Garcia’s awful shots and listen to Reid talk about thermodynamics.

And when Hotch’s anxiety started getting bad again, Charlie was right there. Hotch hadn’t said anything, he didn’t even close himself off. Emily had just excused herself to go yell about something with JJ, leaving him leaning against the bar in the kitchen. But Charlie had come up and squeezed his hand. Winking for good measure. Hotch’s anxiety, like his heart, melted into a puddle around his feet.

“Goodbye,” Emily wishes them a farewell. She kisses both their cheeks and holds on to Hotch a moment longer than she normally would. “So, does this mean we’re back on for movie nights?”

Hotch nods. He’s missed their movie nights. He’s missed hanging out with her. 

In the end, it’s the two of them and Dave.

Hotch’s anxiety rears it’s ugly head. Another painful reminder of the childhood he’ll never escape. Of God and sin and hell. The Catholic Church is solid force in Dave’s life and he’s askin Dave to choose. And Aaron knows he’s not going to be chosen.

“You boys good to drive home?” Dave hands Charlie a Tupperware container of leftovers.

Charlie nods, “we’re okay.”

Well, Charlie is. Hotch is little tipsy and one wrong word away from throwing up on the porch. 

“Be safe,” Dave says, pulling Charlie in for a hug first. He pats his back, lowering his head to whisper. “Take care of my boy, you here?”

It makes Charlie smile. They’d briefly discussed Aaron’s real father but Charlie can see exactly what Aaron had meant when he said Dave had been the man that raised him. He’s gentle and firm and Charlie is glad Aaron was able to find a father. “Of course,” Charlie responds. “Someone has to.”

That makes Dave chuckle. Damn right. 

“Come here, son.” Aaron’s always been bigger than Dave, not that he minds. He pulls him down into his arms, pressing a kiss to his cheek. Lowering his voice he whispers, “I’m glad you brought Charlie. He’s a good man. I’m proud of you.”

Hotch feels the dam break. He wraps his arms tighter around Dave, all of his youth and sexuality and feelings finally making sense. He doesn’t have to chose. He can be himself and be happy, it’s allowed. 

Aaron Hotchner didn’t kill his mother or his mother. He’s always done his best and that’s all he can do.

“You’re a good man,” Dave whispers, rubbing his back.

And… Aaron might just be starting to believe him. 

[clickbait-official]

Warnings: cursing, everyone is ooc, violence, weird writing

~~~

The sun rises on a horrible day.

You wake up knowing it will be a terrible day.

It's one of those days you just know.

You have a mother and an older twin. 

Your older brother’s name is Izuku. He is very nice.

Izuku talks about someone named Kacchan?

He doesn’t seem half as nice as your brother makes him seem, after seeing him in person.

Izuku’s always very jumpy around Kacchan. Like he’s afraid.

But one day that changed.

~~~

“Hey! Extra! Come here!” Bakugou calls out to you, thinking you’re Izuku.

He expects you to jump, and generally be how Izuku is around Kacchan.

But you’re not Izuku. You’re you. And that sentence does not sound grammatically correct.

Things happen, and because you already knew it was going to be a bad day, it’s no surprise when Bakugou accidentally breaks your arm. 

He freezes.

He picks you up and runs to Recovery Girl.

She asks what happened, and as Bakugou goes to answer, you whisper 

“I fell down the stairs and hurt myself bad.”

Bakugou nods along.

~~~

“Why did you lie for me?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“I-”

“I fell down the stairs, and you just helped me to Recovery Girl. Like every other hero-in-training would. Got it?”

“I-yes.”

~~~

Izuku notices that Kacchan doesn’t bully him anymore. He asks his friend group, and eventually you.

“Hey, what happened with Bakugou? He seems kind of… scared? Whenever I come near him, he doesn’t even yell! It’s like a whole different person! Do you know why he’s acting so weird?” He asks one day.

You decide to tell him the truth.

“Don’t get angry, big bro.”

You only ever pull out the “big bro” when you might be in trouble.

“But you know how I broke my arm the other day?”

“Yeah…”

“Well, umm, Kacchan accidentally broke my arm?”

“WHAT?!?”

“Shh! Don’t yell!”

“Where is he?”

He looks around and upon seeing him, marches over.

“You.”

Bakugou turns around

“What the hell do you want, stupid deku?”

“You have no right to look at me like that. You know what you did.”

 “What did he do?” Denki asks

“He broke my sibling’s fucking arm and for what? Petty jealousy? Run after me all you want but don’t ever come never my sibling ever again.”

The courtyard is silent. Then the whispers start. 

“He seems really angry.”

“This doesn’t seem like him.”

“We probably shouldn’t go after his fucking silbling, jesus christ”

He turns on his heel and brings you back to the school.

Bakugou apologizes later. 

~~~

“I’m-I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, i guess. Just don’t do it again, oky? And don’t go after my brother!”

Conversation slowly dies out and you two stand there, neither really wishing to part.

Izuku comes up.

“What did I tell you, Bakugou?”

He grabs Bakugou’s arm and drags him away

And everyone’s like woah bitch is pretty damn strong.

Izuku just talked to Bakugou. Saying not to go near his darling sibling.

You were eating lunch outside when a very strange group of people showed up about 100 yards away. 

Izuku recognized them, apparently.

“The LOV!” 

They grabbed your arm and tried to pull you away.

But Bakugou punched one of them, and so their attention was on them.

“Take me instead.”

So they took him away.

By saving you, he sacrificed himself.

You ought to pay your debts, you know.

Tis the law of equivalent exchange.

It’s 9 when you leave a note for your brother. Just in case you don’t come back.

You sneak out the night after looking for him.

No one is awake in the city.

It’s a quiet night.

You walk near an abandoned warehouse when you hear an explosion from the inside.

Bakugou?

“Just go the fuck to sleep, brat.”

That sounded like one of the villains!

You stay outside for a while before sneaking in.

The door opens to a hallway

There’s a cell on the right side. 

Inside was… Bakugou?

You grab the key and open the cell. You walk in, and shake him awake. He looks exhausted.

“Cmon, we gotta go.”

He stirs awake and sits up. He stands up slowly. 

You lead him out of the cell and down the hall.

While walking down the hall, you two smack into something. It’s soft and fleshy.

A person?

No. A nomu. Which is arguably worse. 

But the nomu was pink?

It turned around slowly

The nomu was very vain.

It’s one of those things you just know.

The nomu still had hair?

And the amount of hairspray the nomu used had probably single-handed caused climate change.

Your fav the nomu is problematic.

After complimenting it many times, the nomu lets you go.

You know, to move the plot forward.

You run out of the building into the nearby woods.

Rushing through the thorny bushes- Bakugou goes first so you don’t get hurt.

Kinda hot, ngl.

Katsuki cuts himself on a rather large thorn, and curses quietly.

He knows now’s no place to be loud.

You rest under a tree.

You only brought a small backpack w/ water, snacks, and a small medical kit.

You fix his arm. He goes much quieter. 

“Thank you.” He says, real softly.

After putting away the medical kit, you fall asleep on him.

He feels your head on his shoulder and turns his head towards you.

“What the hell, extra- oh.”

He picks you up and starts walking.

~~~

It’s 4 in the morning when you wake up.

“Finally, stupid. We gotta go now.” 

You two walk back to his dorm.

He lays you on his bed, then lays beside you.

You both fall asleep to the sun rising.

~~~

“Should we go in?”

“If there’s any evidence of where my sibling is, I want to see it.”

The door opens wildly.

Several eyes roam the room before landing on the people on the bed.

“They’re here?”

Izuku runs into the room.

“Why are you here? How’d you get here? Did the LOV do anything to you? Are you hurt? Why is Baku-“ 

You smack Izuku and hug Bakugou closer. 

He opens an eye open and says

“We’ll talk to you dumbasses later.”

Then falls back asleep. Soon, you do too. 

“Aww” Kirishima whispers.

Izuku smiles a little.

“As long as he doesn’t hurt her again, i guess i’ll be happy for them”

-timeskip to many years later-

“Cmon, dad! We’re having a playdate with Uncle Midorya’s kid!”

“I’m coming, I’m coming.”

You’ve gotten married 20 years later and adopted a kid. You’re happy, with your little family.

The End.

(that ending was really rushed sorry bout that)

[pebblysand]

of breakable clay [extended author's notes on chapter viii of castles]

oh my god. it’s out. jesus christ.

okay first off, before i dive into anything, i know i’ve already done this in the actual a/n but i would like to wholeheartedly thank @whiffingbooks over on discord for helping me with figuring out the structure of things fic. although i have to admit i did not, at all, do what i told you i would do, talking it out was massively helpful in figuring this one out, so thanks a million. secondly, i would like send all of my most sincere and affectionate thanks to @whizzfizz on here, who mother-of-god basically designed this entire chapter and listened to me rant, and rant, and rant about it for days on end without complaining. i’ll go into a bit more depth later on, but THANK YOU.

now, a few facts on this chapter before i dive further in:

wordcount: 19168. i legit would apologise for this but i promised i wouldn’t so i’m not going to. that’s growing up people. don’t apologise for yourselves haha.

soundtrack: so i’ve never mentioned this but each chapter kind of has a soundtrack? like a song that i listened to on loop while writing this. here, i would basically point you to the entire spotify of a band called barns courtney (there’s one album and a few eps), i basically listened to all of their songs on loop this past month. i feel like they have such a strong gryffindor energy, in the good, the bad and the ugly. this chapter is definitely sort of an ode to gryffindors so their music was a very big inspo. if i had to point you to one song, it would probably be dopamine.

favourite line: ‘I dig my fingernails into the inside of my palms and it feels like the blood that comes out is already boiling.’

what is this chapter about? now, that’s an easy one. survival.

okay, now, spoilers under the cut.

ugh. holy fucking shit. i’m actually at a stage right now where i strongly believe that no one on earth will want to read this because everyone probably hates me right now for the choices that i made, especially after i made you wait almost three months for this shit. i always feel like whatever i’ve put out was the hardest chapter to write so far but this one was really out there in terms of struggles - i’m really sorry it took so long, but here we are.

there are reasons, though. first, as i said in my may round up, i didn’t really start writing this until about a month ago, because a lot of things were happening in my life that i needed to take care of. i took exams (which i passed!!!!), my mum had a health emergency, ireland added france to their mandatory quarantine list (it has been removed as of yesterday thank. fucking. christ) and i started a new job. it was a lot.

anyway, this being said, when i did get to writing this chapter, as mentioned above in the thank-you section, i kind of first struggled with the structure of it. now, you will see this is a recurring theme this time around but for this, my instincts were telling me one thing, and my brain was saying something else.

basically, what came first here wasn’t the actual content of ginny’s letters (more on that, obviously, in a minute) but the ‘mood’ i wanted for the chapter. i wanted to recreate, both for harry and for the reader, this sort of idea of being completely immersed in a book or a story. like, you know the kind of mood where reality just kind of blends out, where you start reading something and just. cannot. stop. i don’t think he’s much a reader (at least not canonically) and so i wanted this to take him by surprise, for her to take over his life with her words. i explained in the previous a/n [link] i chose to have ginny’s war be told through letters (basically, i thought it would be the best way to narratively tell her story), and i really wanted harry to experience what she’d lived through almost first hand.

now, interestingly, my idea for how to do this originally was to have the letters sort of be interwoven into the events of 1999, throughout the next couple of chapters (meaning this one and chapter nine). i had this idea in my head of him living through ‘real life’ things but not being able to take his mind off her letters, with the letters also sort of echoing the events that were happening in 99, etc. having the two plot lines develop at once and meet in the middle, kind of.

and i tried to write that. for a long time. spoiler alert, it didn’t work. i think the reason is that every time i sat down with it, i felt like i was doing a disservice to both stories. i mean: 97/98 is important, but 99 also is, you know? and by taking the narrative in and out all the time, it was like you couldn’t concentrate on one thing. it was just very messy and didn’t have the intensity i was originally aiming for because it kept being dragged out of whatever was the main action at the time. i wanted harry to get sucked into the narrative, for her letters to take over his life, but in the end, the impression i just got was that the whole thing was confusing af. instead of deeply caring about both, i couldn’t bring myself to care either for ginny’s story, or for his.

also, i just kept hitting a wall: a wall called harry. basically, i knew that the next two chapters (i.e. eight and nine) would stretch from january 99 to june 99. and for the love of god, no matter how many times i turned it around in my head, there was - to me - no way that harry as we know him would just pace himself to read her letters throughout all those months. like, harry fucking potter isn’t the kind of guy who ‘paces’ himself. he’s the kind of guy who doesn’t sleep for a week to get through it all, you know? this is everything that he’s wanted to know since last may, he’s been desperately looking for answers up to this point, there is absolutely not way in hell that he’d wait it out nicely until june. it felt ooc to have him read the letters over a few months. and i just kept hitting that wall over and over. i considered, at one point, building him reading the letters into flashbacks but flashbacks of flashbacks were, again, quite messy, and i don’t think her letters would ever be something he’d volunteer to re-read, so. clearly, it wasn’t working.

then, i think on a random sunday a few weeks ago, i just went back to the drawing board and was like: okay, say we just write all of the letters and go from there, what would happen? by the end of the day, i’d written 12,000 words and that was that, really.

now, the second difficulty, once i’d decided that was…. what you all probably want me to talk about.

i know this is probably not what you want to hear but: i didn’t really plan this? like, i understand that a lot of people have sort of a headcanon about what happened to ginny in that year in hogwarts but i … don’t. like, as planned as this fic is (which it is, i know where i’m going, i promise) that was always a bit of a blank-space-tbd in my head. i think that this story, as hinny as it is, is mostly about harry. and while i knew what i wanted for harry from her telling her story (for him to get sucked in, for him to realise that his war wasn’t the only war in the world ‘cause he’s been bloody self-centered so far, for him to realise that his plan to protect her didn’t exactly work because it didn’t cater for who she is, etc.), i wasn’t really sure what that story was. i mean, i knew it was going to be bad and traumatic, obviously, but i didn’t know what would happen. and still, to me, what i wrote is a version of that year. it’s not really my headcanon (i still don’t really have one), and i definitely accept other versions, if that makes sense.

this being said, i obviously had thought about it a little. i remember writing chapter one with that line: ‘They have sex for the first time, that day – his first time and it feels like hers, too, but he wouldn’t dare ask, not anymore, anyways’ and thinking i wanted to leave the door open. to me, it was a door completely open: it could have indeed been her first time, or she could have seen someone else (consensually) during that year, or she could have been assaulted. i honestly didn’t know but yeah, that was always a possibility in the back of my head.

then, to tell you the truth, when i wrote the first version of this chapter (the 12,000 words i mentioned earlier), it wasn’t there. i sat down and decided that i wasn’t going to go there. firstly, because, while you probably don’t know this, i’ve written about sexual assault before. my previous long fic, children, in another fandom, dealt (in part) with that. and i didn’t want to be the-fic-writer-who-writes-about-sexual-assault. especially because trust me, there are people who are a lot more legitimate to talk about this than i am. i also didn’t feel like it was necessary to the story, i could do without it and still explain ginny’s early behaviour in the fic, explain her trauma, and have harry realise the things i talked about before. secondly, i’ll be honest: i know this isn’t what people in this fandom want to read. the hinny pairing is mostly about love and fluff (which i love, btw, don’t get me wrong) and i was like, ugh, i don’t want to face the angry comments. i’m writing this a/n the morning before posting so i admittedly don’t know what the reaction will be but i do anticipate a lot of annoyance with me. i knew that a lot of people wouldn’t like it if i went there, and it was just easier not to.

but then, as i started editing, there was a comment (and this, ladies and gentlemen, is a testament to how much your comments fucking matter, okay?). a comment that i remembered reading on the previous chapter and could not get out of my head, no matter how much i tried. well, hello, @whizzfizz. i’ll happily give credit where credit is due. it read:

This made me think of something you mentioned earlier in the fic (possibly Ch1) about Harry not being sure if he was Ginny’s first but that it felt like it. I wonder if this is something that is going to come up in her letters to him.

and, so, it turned. around and around in my head, and i couldn’t get it out. and i kept saying to myself: no, you’re not going there. no, you’re not going there. and then, one night, i caved. i was like, fuck, i need to know if this person really meant what i think they meant by this. and so we talked. a lot. and, i did a lot of thinking. about women. about wars. about violence against women as a an inevitable weapon of war. about ginny being harry’s girlfriend, or ex-girlfriend (more on that later), and what that would have meant in their world. and @whizzfizz, you said something that in the end really sold me. you said: ‘at this point, i don’t think it would be realistic for it not to have happened.’ and, that was that, really.

because i was right, initially. amycus/ginny (ugh, the idea of a pairing makes me throw up in my mouth a little but yeah, there it is) isn’t necessary to the story. but i believe it to be necessary to what this story is trying to show. the plot held well without it, no questions asked. 12,000 words of the da and their battles, of ginny’s rebellions. it was fine. but i think i wanted more than fine. to me (and i appreciate how fucking pretentious that is, please slap me in the face *eyeroll*), castles is more than its plot. i’ve said it before and i’ll say it again: this is about what is behind ‘all was well.’ it’s about trying to paint a realistic picture of their lives. and that includes the war. and realistically, as far as i’m concerned, knowing how humans fight their wars, knowing our history and the history of violence against women construed as a weapon in literally every conflict there ever was, there is no way that this didn’t happen. ginny says it herself: for us girls, it’s just the way wars are fought.

so, i did go there. and the whole fandom probably hates me for going there, but i sort of stand by it, i have to say. to be honest, on a sort of subconscious level, i kind of wonder: didn’t i always know i was going to go there? like, this fits perfectly into the plot to the point that i think it was probably in my head for much longer than i care to admit. now, i’m so, fucking excited to write next chapter because i finally get to write happy things, and hinny getting back together on rock solid foundations of openness and sharing, and trust, and i’m so, so glad. there are a couple of scenes in the next chapter that i’ve been working towards for months and i’m so, bloody excited to write them. everyone might hate me and i might just be writing this fic for myself now (lol), but again, i stand by the decisions i took. to me, it fits.

phew. okay, now that huge thing is out of the way and explained, here are a few more jumbled thoughts:

the more i think about it, the more i think that my reason for not wanting to be the-fic-writer-who-writes-about-sexual-assault is a bit ridic. children and castles, in that way, are so, so different. like, i appreciate the overlap between the silk fandom and the hp fandom is probably ridiculously small but if you’ve read both stories, they’re obviously very different. one thing that both stories centre on, though, is consent. and to me, that’s probably the most interesting element of ginny/amycus, and the most interesting element of writing characters within a restrictive pov, rather than an omniscient one. like, do i think ginny/amycus is rape? yes. 100%. do i think that ginny thinks it’s rape? that is a much more interesting question. she says it a number of times but i think to her, this is all about control. i think that because of what happened to her with tom, she’s someone who is terrified of losing control of her mind and of her own agency. so as not to lose that, she’s willing to do whatever it takes. it is a ‘you can control my body, but not my thoughts,’ sort of narrative. and, she never says it outright because i think psychologically she’s just not there yet, but tom is everywhere in these letters. and as her world just spirals out, she hangs onto the very few things that she can control: her relationship to harry, and her willingness to do what it takes for them to survive. she initiates the ‘relationship’ with amycus in an attempt to control her fate. later, as she explains to harry she feels a lot of guilt over what she did, and like a lot of sexual assault survivors, she thinks it was her responsibility. because i’m in harry’s head most of the time for this fic, i’m not sure i’ll ever really get to discuss that at length, but it’s definitely something that i wanted to show. another interesting question is: does harry think it’s rape? i think at that point in the fic, he doesn’t have the education, nor the vocabulary for that. i think instinctively (because he is someone who is very instinctive), he doesn’t blame her. if he blames anyone, it’s probably himself. he understands the necessity to do what you have to do to survive and thinks that no, no matter what she claims, that was not consented. that’s kind of what comes out in his annoyingly inarticulate letter to her at the end. beyond that, though, i think he’s a bit lost, just like she is.

on a mildly related note, there is something that i've been seeing a lot in the comments and that i feel like i should maybe address? namely: harry's reaction to ginny dating other people. i assume similar comments will be made about his reaction to ginny/alecto (meaning that he still decides to write to her, at the end of the chapter). i've seen a lot of people observe that he's much more 'chill' about it in castles than in canon. fair point but is he, though? like, he isn't happy about it in castles. and he's jealous as well. but he was never entitled in canon. he was jealous, yes, the chest monster and all that, but he never really did anything about it, and never really impeded on her right to see other people. now, this being said, i agree that in sixth year he might have thrown a tantrum, had she done what she did in castles, but that was sixth year. it was before the war. before he lost half a dozen people. before he had to adult bloody fucking quickly. this being said, i do think castles-Harry is more 'subdued,' i suppose, than canon harry. this is a choice i made early on, which to me is related to the fact that he kind of lost his 'voice' during the war. i mean, it took him six months of people talking shit behind his back to do a press interview to defend himself. i think with ginny, it's a lot of the same. he's a boy who blames himself a lot, and generally doesn't particularly think he deserves the people in his life. to me it's an evolution of his character within the the world of castles. i'm happy to agree to disagree on it, but to me it makes sense within the character evolution and the way the fic's gone, so to speak. now, obviously, he'll grow out of that in due course, but we're not quite there yet.

regarding their relationship, now, i have to say: one headcanon that i did have for this was her not outright telling everyone they’d broken up. i’m sorry, that plan was shit. i just don’t buy for a second that she would willingly have gone ahead with it, and i don’t buy for a second that tom wouldn’t have used her had he known they’d been together, ex girlfriend or not. plus, i think she needed something to hand onto, and that was her relationship with him. her letters. the belief that they would be together again. without it, i don’t think she’d have survived. and i think that summer after the war, they were totally on the same page, for different reasons. both of them kind of saw their relationship as the one thing that kept them afloat, the one good thing they had, partly also because they’d idealised it for so long. she says it as some point, it wasn’t a relationship, it was a lifeline (another sentence i came up with as a response to a comment, lol) and while that is toxic and was meant to crumble at some point, it was necessary for them, both during the war, and in the early days after it. i think her last letter to him is painstakingly correct on that one.

regarding canon, i know i’m bending a couple of things here, which i just wanted to quickly acknowledge: 1) i know jkr has said it’s teddy remus lupin. i just can’t believe, for a moment, that someone who hated himself as much as lupin did, canonically, would name his son after himself. naming his son after his best mate who died to young to become problematic though? i totally see it. so yeah, creative licence, it’s teddy james lupin in this house, lol. 2) when they meet neville in dh, he kind of hints that they’ve only just started to use the room of requirement a couple weeks ago. the text however, only says they’ve only been staying in it full time a couple of weeks ago. i needed them to have somewhere where to meet with the da and stuff, so i bent that a bit. it’s not strictly canon, but it’s also not not canon, if that makes sense.

on seamus blowing things up and talking about eight hundred years of oppression? full disclaimer, while i am french, i have been living in ireland for long enough to become eligible for citizenship in less than six months (yay!). i know some people have said that seamus is a bit of a cliche in the books/films and all (the only irish character keen on blowing things up, haha *eyeroll*), but i actually kind of love it? like, the whole thing about the cranberries and zombie at the start of the fic has been in my head for much longer than i care to admit. i love the idea that there’s this whole muggle war going on at the exact same time that no one ever talks about and actually, i find the idea of wizarding ireland v. muggle ireland and the whole political structure fascinating. like, is wizarding ireland an independent state? what’s the story there? i have a whole seamus fic in my head, partially on this topic, that i might or might not write one day.

lastly, i know this may sound a bit weird but i need to say it: once i’d figured out what and how i was writing it, i bloody loved writing this chapter. first stylistically, i really wanted to mimic the style of how i’d written the magazine article in chapter 5 (i.e. not writing out the whole thing but writing out in text the excerpts that harry focused on) and i love how that turned out. i think it was a good way to balance her words and his, kind of merging them into one, big narrative. second, as a writer, it was so fucking interesting to write someone who knows how to write, which believe it or not i’d never done before. additionally, i loved the challenge of editing this because it was like: i’ve got to edit this, but not too much? i was very careful about modifying and polishing too much of ginny’s speech in the letters because i obviously wanted it to sound like someone who was just writing as the words came to her, without polishing the words, the punctuation, etc. like i usually would. i wanted her to have quirks (she says ‘you know?’ a lot) and i played with her capitalisation and punctuation a bit too. i know these aren’t necessarily noticeable details but it was definitely something that i thought about and that was very fun and interesting to write, as a format.

wow, okay. this was LONG but i think i have everything i wanted to say. if you’ve read all of this (whyyyyy?), thanks so much for sticking around. if you’ve got any questions, anything i didn’t address, do let me know, anon or not, my ask box is open. now, i would love to say i’m going to chill or something, but the truth is that i have to a) actually do a last read through of the fic, lol and b) put it out. this is what i get for writing the a/n before finishing the damn thing, i guess. i’ll rest tomorrow, lol.

lastly, in terms of next chapter, realistically, i’d say eight to ten weeks. i have a full time job now and also, writing this was fucking exhausting and i need to take time out for a bit before coming back to it with a fresh mind. i will be writing other stuff though, i promise. i have a couple of prompts to get to (thanks!!!) and a couple of other ideas so i will probably be posting in the meantime, just not castles.

lots of love,

p.

[stevenuniversetanzanite]

Second First Meeting (Sally x reader)

I got some dialogue from my directing class about a junkie named Sally you all can guess who I thought of. I think the dialogue is from an Australian tv or web series called Blue mountain. Anyway, I adapted the story so I could work in into a story.

As this is a one-shot for the sake of the story, I am forgetting time is a concept that applies to humans. You get to choose if you age like a normal human or you were turned into a vampire and are immortal. Whatever makes your experience more enjoyable- however, you have to age slightly after the leaving part.

This is a lot more dialogue than I normally do. So I hope it isn't too bad. Also, I've written for sally. She is a bit ooc but I feel like it works because none of it is set during the main duration of the season. 

The story starts here:

"What are you doing?" You asked your girlfriend who you ran into unexpectedly on your way to a deal.

"Nothing" she said in a daze.

The woman in a leopard print tried to stumble past you, having places she needed to be that didn't concern you. She was happy until you interrupted her euphoric dream of a world her lasted dosage of drugs gave her. She'd found the stash in your shared apartment, knowing how to do it from when you showed her long ago when you first sold her drugs. Years had passed since your high school days, the two of you had fallen further into the world of junkies and quick fixes in order to feel something.

A month ago, you both promised each other you'd give up drugs and make a life for yourself. You'd finally seen the damage it had done to her, you and the people you sold drugs to. Most people you couldn't care about, but her, you'd do anything for. She was no longer on the 'beginner' stuff, moving on to higher doses, more frequent use and stronger drugs. She outdid you nowadays with her intact. You had lessoned your usage, the reason you got into the scene, economic problems were now fixed, you were wanning your dependence on the substances. Who knows, soon you might be able to get a normal job.

When you made your empty promises, you had the full intent on giving up that life, her fingers were crossed behind her back. You'd half kept your promise, you still sold on the side, but you kept telling yourself that you'd stop soon. You just needed to get rid of the stock. You said that last batch. A part of the newest batch was what was giving your girlfriend her high.

"What are you doing here?" You were a quarter of a block away from where you dealled, standing outside the Hotel Cortez.

"I just came to visit some friends. I just wanted to get out of the house!"

"What, so you come here? What are you here for?" You spot her bag, having a hunch as to why she was there, you snatched her bag to search it.

"What am I supposed to do? Sit at home and watch Days of our Lives all day?!" Sally yelled as she attempted to get her bag back, but you push her back.

You throw the bag to the ground and ask, "You using something huh? Show me your arm." You grabbed her arm. She yanked her arm about, but you held onto her with a firm grip.

"Jesus Christ Y/n, you're a stupid arsehole! Let go!" Sally gets out of your grasp and walks over to her belongings and began to off.

"Where you going?" You went after her to stop her from leaving both you and the situation, catching the handle of her bag and holding her back. "Why don't you show me what's in the bag."

"There's nothing in the bag!" She cried. You glared into her eyes, scanning her for anything that would tell you that she was lying. You couldn't see anything. You went to your next guess. "You up here screwing some guy? How the hell am I supposed to trust you? How am I supposed to trust you Sal?"

"I hate all this shit! You're so bloody jealous!"

"Junkies....You're all bloody junkies!" You were no better and the fact that she didn't point it out, still astonishes you. She was two caught up with the personal attack to come up with something better. You'd never called her a junkie before though you both at one point met the criteria.

"I'm not a bloody junkie!"

"Well you're an addict. What's the difference?"

"I know what I am, you get it right."

"You know what? You whatever the fuck you want. Go blow some dude for all I care."

"Okay, I will."

"Good, have fun."

She took your advice but when she came home, there was nothing left. All your stuff was gone. No note detailing where you'd gone. The apartment was trashed, and all her stuff was shoved into a box near the front door.

She never saw you in all your favourite spots or the alleys you used to deal. Your existence was erased from the world, the only evidence that you existed was her memories. Maybe you were an hallucination the whole time?

Ever since she sought out potential partners with a desperate need to be loved. It was fine at first. She pretended to forget you, found her true path in music and even got a job composting for her friends one of her favourite musicians. She found herself needed more then drugs, she never realised that you, yourself was a drug to her, the love you gave her, she craved it and for a fraction of a moment she found it in the duo. They two gave her a new life from one she was trying to escape. You had helped her with her initial problems, a bad experience in youth and these two helped her to forget you if only your face.

The night you disappeared from the world you decided to go into the Hotel Cortez for some drinks. A bold lady sat reading a newspaper at the reception desk. She peered up from paper to give you a once over. Your hands were stuffed in your vinyl coat to keep them warm. You made your way straight over to the desk and asked how much a room was in your sweetest sounding voice you could muster up. After being told, you pulled out a wad of cash and handed her the amount. She gave you an odd look at the amount you carried on you. You payed her no mind. Waiting for her to fetch you the key to your room before asking her about the status of the bar, "Is the bar opened?"

Once checking out your room and tidying yourself up you headed down to the bar. The same woman form before was now behind the bar tending to it. "You don't have much staff?"

"Not many people stay here at once."

"That's a shame, it's a cute hotel. Very vintage."

Liz asked what drink you wanted then went to prepare it. "So, what made you decided to stay with us, Y/n?" You told her your name when you reserved your room.

"Had a fight with my girlfriend?"

"Got kicked out?"

"No, I just don't want to go home and face her yet." The woman, who's name you learned was Liz handed you a drink.

You spoke to her for hours, admitting things that you'd told no one. She gave her outsiders perspective on your situation and to put it simply, maybe Sally wasn't the right girl for you. You wanted to move to grander places and your half success showed progress. You would have to cut all ties to that lifestyle in order to move on completely. You mentioned to her a business propose a family member offered you that you were considering taking up but didn't because you knew you wouldn't be able to do it with your current life. It involved you moving across the country which you couldn't afford before, but if you sold your apartment and used the money for plan tickets you might be able to make it work.

You didn't know if the offer was still available, Liz told you all you had to do was call up the person and ask. She offered you encouragement in doing so and even offered you a free drink if you did it.

Your family member was ecstatic that you accepted the offer, preparing a space for you when you arrived. Said member knew of your struggles and was willing to help you out of your rut, as well as offer a job helping with their fashion line. You were a business person, you knew the trade which was what made you a great drug dealer to begin with, it would be a different scene but all you could do was hope you were a fast learner.

You spent your last week in room 64 trying off loose ends so you could start anew.

Years later Sally found herself trapped in the inner walls of a hotel, haunting the grounds, finding pleasure in killing whomever she pleased in whatever way she like. Her choice, as with most things, was with drugs. Her face was permanently stained with tear tracks darkened by her runny mascara.

It was no longer the 80's. Decades had passed, and you found yourself back in Downtown LA. You were there on business, one of your companies provided funding for Will Drake's fashion line for years. You saw potential in his works and helped him by providing resources. His newest fashion show was exclusive, but you managed to easily get a spot. You'd heard that the fashion designer had a new 'face' for his brand. You'd never met the person face to face, but the name was familiar, Liz Taylor. It must have been a common name. You were surprised when you discovered Will Drake wasn't the one to request for your invitation but Liz. You were happy for the invitation none the less. It didn't strike you until you entered the newly renovated hotel Cortez who Liz Taylor was.

There were very few invinations and all phones and cameras a band making the whole show more intriguing. The models were unusual, the variety was a present surprise. One woman sent you back into your past. You audibly choked catching the attention of a few of the people around you. You brush them off and watched on.

At the end of the show, all the models walked out to show of their outfits one last time. The models lined the edges of the runway. The model resembling your past love stopped in front of you. She looked out into the far back of the audience. Her eyes glaze over you and she stiffens, tilting her head slightly in confusion but trying to act professional. The audience abrupted in applause, you delayed for a moment before following in the others lead. You maintained eye contact until she had to turn to leave the stage. You hit the open bar as soon as you could, wanting to forget what just happened. You'd downed a couple drinks before you heard the familiar voice from beside you.

"Hello there," the carbon copy purred.

"Hello," you squeaked out before downing another drink. She smirked. You stared into her eyes, wanting to quiver under the wait and power of them. "Drink?" you said pointing to the alcohol.

She chuckled, before getting some for herself. "You seemed mighty fascinated in me while on stage. I thought I would return the favour."

"Well, in that case. How do I look?"

"Not bad. A bit older than I'd usually go for."

"Is that a bad thing?"

"Not nearly. More experience."

"I guess you could say-"

"L/n-" your attention snapped form the timeless relect in front of you to the new face of Will Drake but an old face to you. What was with this looking vintage place and the past. Sally reacted to your surname even going so far as to repeat it.

"Liz, I wanted to congratulate both you and Drake on an amazing show. However, I never expected any less." You said shaking the woman's hand. "I assume you'll pass on the praise to Will Drake yourself as he's become recluse from the public eye."

"Of course, L/n. I see you met one of our models. I hope Sally isn't give you any trouble."

"Sally?" Your eyes darted back to her. A look of bewilderment on your face. How could it be? Liz's eyes dart between the two of you. You both shared the same expression. She knew she was missing something. "What's your last name?"

"Mckenna."

"Oh fuck- Shit. How is it you? Oh god."

"Y/n? You got old."

"You haven't aged a day."

"You two know each other?" Liz asked.

"I was her dealer-" "She was my girlfriend-" you spoke at the same time. Liz understood immediate, remembering your tale from decades prior. You'd called her Sal the whole time you were talking about her, it could have been short for anything. From all the stories Sally had spat out in one of her angry drunk sessions Liz had all the clues to piece it together sooner.

"Was I nothing to you?" Sally asked. "I should have guessed when you abandoned me-"

"Sally, quiet down-" some of the guests turned to when hearing her yell.

"No- don't you dare talk to me-"

"You can yell at me all you want, just not out here." Here eyes followed yours catching the stared of the crowd around them. She had to stop herself from snapping at them. She didn't want to ruin Liz's show.

Even though she had all this anger built up, from your general presence being back a time she had recently gotten over. She'd wait until your both alone to tear you into shreds.

"We can go to my room." Sally grumbled before grabbing arm to tug me off. Liz warned her not to harm me as she was better than that (also it would affect business). I told Liz I was used to 'her type' which enraged Sally more. Your ex dragged me all the way to the elevator before tossing me inside and selecting the level. "You're lucky this isn't the last show they had here." you didn't know what she meant by that. Was she a different person then? Had she changed since then? You knew she was implying something but weren't exactly sure what.

By the time she reached her destination she'd didn't want to slit your throat at the sight of you.

She pulled you to room 64, wait this was your room, why was she taking you to your room? She pulled out a key and opened the room. You entered before her, noticing all your belongs in the same place as they were normally along with the random keyboard in the room.

"You want to explain why you have the key to my room?"

"It's my room."

You pulled out your key and showed her it. "Liz?" she asked. You assume she meant the receptionist.

"Iris, I believe or at least she was the one who gave me the key."

"They must have run out of rooms and started evening our rooms away."

"Why would they give your rooms away if there yours?"

"Long story."

"Make it short."

"I don't have to answer to you."

"How about a question for a question?"

"Fine."

"You answer mine first."

"I don't think you'll believe me-"

"That's not an answer. I don't have to believe you; I just want the truth."

"What was your question again?"

"Why did they give away your room if it's yours?"

"Right. I'm dead."

"You're right, I don't believe you."

"Told you."

"Keep going."

She rose her brow. You didn't believe her, yet you wanted to keep listening. "As we are dead and can't move on from this place, we haunt this hellhole."

"There's more ghosts?"

Sally nodded. "That's two questions. My turn, why did you leave me?"

"I don't know a good answer do that." Sally was going to make a snappy comment, but you kept talking. "Short answer, I wanted more, and my life was holding me back. I was torn between the opportunity of a lifetime and life with you. I got an outsiders opinion and they helped me figure out I couldn't have it all and be with you."

"Were you happy?"

"For a bit. It was hard at first with rehabilitation and learning to fit into a life I hadn't had in years. It's different on the other side. I had something holding me back to my old life, a loose end I never resolved."

"What was that?"

"You. I never told you I left. I felt guilty for not telling you. Always wondered what happened to you but never dared to find you."

"Scared I'd pull you back in?"

"No, I was scared I made a mistake."

"You did."

"I don't think there was a good option. I'd lose either way."

"What about you? What have you made of yourself?"

"Other than a ghost? I perused music."

"Good for you, you were always talking about doing that."

She ended up telling her whole life story up until getting stuck into the hotel. She spoke about how she was making music with Patti Smith in the 1980s, but she got fired from the project. She went on about how her addiction got worse and with the loss of you and abandonment issues were enhanced. She mentioned how she was working with Patti Smith for a while at the time before you left but never mentioned it because she wanted it to be a surprise. In 1993, she was a songwriter and had a threesome one night with her friends, a couple of musicians. Sally injected all of them with heroin and in a bizarre drug-induced psychosis, developed the idea to sew all of them together. Her friends died in the process. She was trapped for three days whilst lying trapped next to the corpse of her friends. While being tortured by something she called an 'Addiction Demon.' You didn't understand why she was telling you about this even, but you listened nevertheless. For a moment, it seemed like old times, you were entranced by every word. She told you about being murdered in 1994 when a guy, iris' son, died from an overdose, much to Sally's indifference. Iris pushed her out the window. She goes on to say, now the two where okay. Iris ended up introducing Sally to the internet and showing her a world she never thought she could have again.

"Did you move on?" She was unsure as you didn't mention anyone in your tale of the past, while she went into detail- mainly because she couldn't harm you, so it seemed like the second-best option. She hoped it made you jealous.

"Couldn't." Your answer was short. You didn't want to go into depth about your lack of interest in anyone besides her, so you lied. "Too busy."

Once the two of you were done, you sat in silence. No more questions among the two, closure on both your ends. So, what now?

Part 2

Considering doing a part two as 2 people on wattpad wanted me to. However I have no idea where to go from here. 

[wildshero]

ooc: welp i went ahead and spoiled AoC for myself, under the cut are spoilers you have been warned

im super disappointed in nintendo for making everyone live. the game would have been so powerful to have the true ending that leads straight into botw. but they just love their split timelines don’t they. not every game has to end happily at risk of spoiling spider man: miles morales that game has a very bitter sweet ending with death involved, and no one is complaining. i just don’t get why they had to ahead and ruin a timeline they already firmly set up. like the game was described as being a view into what happened before the 100 years, but its not that if you go and change the whole damn story.

like ngl if botw 2 takes place after aoc i’ll be kind of disappointed, like aoc erases everything from botw

like all the heartache and shit is erased in aoc, and it takes away everything that link and zelda fought for in botw in order for it to not happen, which is fine, but at the same time like calling forth the ��new” champions from the future to fight alongside you isn’t an answer to the problem. it just creates a huge paradox

so from here on out are basically my thoughts to watching the cut scenes

its just bad writing, not to mention straight up stealing the fact that zelda and impa can understand the egg from droids and their “masters” from star wars, the egg is her music box... and plays her lullaby. like stop forcing the egg on us please

why can no one see hestu til zelda can? like scuse me, no link can see the giant brocoli just fine despite this cut scene. also hestu not remembering link in botw if this scene is real? like COME ON

mipha is shit at hiding her crush

the not ganon character is a seer who wants to control their own calamity possessed egg, and sooga is like its not for mortals to control

it is weird seeing link without the slate on his armor, there’s a place for it, but its like not there.

i know its hyrule warriors and you gotta have more than two people going but like impa being there at the spring of courage... like love her all you want but nah fam this aint it also it steals story elements away from link, i know the boy is selectively mute BUT JESUS give him something please

also its like link being the hero means nothing in terms of the slate and the towers, and then the shrines. its like all of it is meaningless in this game, which like revali says what’s the point of link then

calamity comes early? what the hell? this game. im so upset, but also like rhoam getting unnecessarily angry at link for doing what he’s supposed to like jesus fucking christ then he lowkey dies like okay

purah being there when zelda breaks down and its not just link... like the whole story of botw is like fucked, and zelda has time travel tears now

like all the things that happened in botw that built the characters is erased, like everything is a group effort which like is disappointing. i love how the new champions come BUT at the same time it defeats the point of the champions ballad, and the solo battles that link has to face.

alot of the story telling elements are repeated like more obviously than in botw which is saying something

all that the new champions are seeing is for nothing... like they will go back with these memories and it will suck cause they know the current state will have been changed and so what they see will be burdens they carried alone and for nothing for their future people

link’s sacrifice is for nothing, so thanks for diminishing that for me AOC. like him fending off the four blights unlocks zelda’s power but like seriously what is the point of him in this game, he is literally useless, like he straight up disappears. and her power isn’t unlocked via her love, but seeing link fight, and then thinking of the loss of her father

the yiga joined the good side? the fuck aoc

oh link is magically back now. why is he even in this game?

her father isn’t dead but was transported to the temple of time cause of a relic zelda and her mom found. THE PLOT ARMOR, its a shield its literal plot armor oh my god. which lead to her power awakening having no real meaning

literally everything from botw is unwritten, all the strife and everything that was fought for in botw is literally gone

i liked that teba was not a fan of revali’s attitude but like he then becomes a simp for him like dude you can still be in awe and think he’s a jerk to link and in general

ah a blood moon at the end... *eyeroll* okay

harbinger ganon... *squints*

the seer becomes sucked into ganon and the egg attacks zelda and link deflects its blast killing it... WHAT IS THIS WRITING

cool zelda is crying more over this damn egg than her people in BOTW, so zelda is like 5 when her mom dies in the castle (?) its not clear, and her dad is like training only now

also the eggs name is terrako

who needs the master sword the darkness when you’ve got egg boy and zelda’s sealing power, no wonder its shit 100 years later. fi realized she wasn’t fucking needed

slice him through like butter link that’ll do it *eye roll* what happened to that courage power from the fucking master sword scene? what sealing are you doing with that sword? you sliced through him. LIKE?

things that i kinda like, and appreciate character wise

link gets flustered easily. revali revels in the fact that link will be the fallen knight and his reputation what little he has will be ruined, it is also well known that link is in fact a nobody meaning his family is not noble born, but that does not mean his family, read his father, on this blog is a nobody.

urbosa defending link from revali’s bullshit

link fighting malice champions from the totally “not ganon” hooded figure

link is officially considered a champion, and talks with urbosa

impa being pissy with the egg, i feel it. i am tired of the fucking egg pushing himself in too

sooga is the only character i want to see in botw2

link can teleport more than one person is confirmed, though three max is like it in a weakened state.

as much as i hate how many paradoxes this creates, yunobo and sidon’s enterances are very good, and teba’s and riju’s are similar. urbosa recognizing she’s in trouble is very in character for her imo.

i liked that all in hyrule worked together but like at what cost

i prefer this design of calamity ganon

the master sword lets FUCKING DISCUSS

ahahaha no. link pulls the sword when he’s a kid. I WANT TO HAVE A DISCUSSION NINTENDO GIVE ME YOUR NUMBER

like the scene is cool and all but we’re gonna be rewriting that bullshit. the only thing im taking from it is apparently link and the sword together have some courage power a-la zelda’s healing power... NOT THAT IT MATTERS CAUSE HE DOESN’T GET TO FUCKING USE IT

HOWEVER he does not pull it for the first time right then and there, sorry nope, not happening

The story is very much zelda’s which it should be, but like every moment that could have been link’s was taken by another character because of how hyrule warrior’s opperates. like if you want to play as zelda this is your game

im just disappointed, it erases everything from botw quite literally. it gives the new champions memories that they bare alone because zelda and link wont be there in 100 years to help them with it...

link was useless in the game. like you could literally write him out and have the same game, having the master sword literally does fucking nothing because of how OP zelda is. like its called legend of zelda and rightfully so but Link becomes a literal footnote. purah and others takes his place in all the important scenes that were his before.

and like i said if BOTW2 takes place after this its gonna be disappointing and not as dark as nintendo is intending IMO, they should have let this game end the way it does in the lead up to BOTW, it would have been so much more rewarding in my opinion yes you “technically lose” but you would still get some awesome final moments with zelda, and it would hype you up for BOTW.

there were parts i liked obviously, but there were major issues, and this is JUST STORY BASED, im not even talking game play.

[divine17]

↳ FEEL YOU NOW | MASTERLIST

Fandom: Stranger Things

Request: N/A

Warnings: NOT proofread, Fem!Reader, maybe slightly OOC Billy, established romantic relationship, injuries from a physical fight, brief mention of weapons, a lot of swearing, kissing

Word Count: 2,411

Disclaimer: I do not condone any of Billy’s actions or words in the show. His canon views, the ones depicted in the series itself, are not my views nor are representative of myself. Any disrespectful messages/asks of this nature will be deleted and blocked. 

A/N: maybe slightly fluffy? if you squint? maybe?

On a typical Wednesday night, you could usually be found sitting on your bed, your half-finished schoolwork and thick textbooks sprawled across the mattress. Tonight was certainly no exception. With a big history test the following day, you had decided that it was a fantastic idea to cram as much as you could for as long as you could.. And hope something would decide to stick. You’d been there for at least a few hours at this point, and it was well past nine o’clock, you were sure.

It was the light sound of tapping against your window that made you finally look up from your work, your soft humming to a quiet Queen song suddenly ceasing. Billy. It was dark outside and you could barely make out the shape of his figure, but it was him. You were nearly certain of it.

Confused, you stood from your seat, quietly walking over to the glass. He leaned down slightly, revealing himself. Good God, he looked horrible. Gory slashes and cuts and still-forming bruises littered his face, the purple splotches beneath his eye and along his jaw particularly drawing your attention. His face was red, almost matching his slightly torn, half-unbuttoned crimson shirt. You unlocked the window quickly, raising it up to talk to him.

“Billy, what the hell happened?”

You were shocked, surprised, and probably sounded a little rude as you spoke, but you couldn’t find it within yourself to care at the moment. Your boyfriend (well, only sort of) was standing at your window in the freezing cold Hawkins weather late at night with a busted mug. You hate better things to fret over than accidentally sounding rude.

“I... I didn’t know where else to go.” He confessed, his voice just barely above a whisper. His eyelids were heavy as his left eye swelled. Tired and angry, struggling to fully focus on you from the more-than-slight pain. “I’m sorry. It’s late, I know.”

“No, no, it’s fine... Come on.” You stepped away from the windowsill but offered your hand to him, gesturing for him to climb through. “Be easy. My parents are asleep downstairs.”

The blond boy nodded, swinging his leg over the sill and into your room. The other followed suit as you helped him into your bedroom— a first for the both of you. He had never snuck up here until now, surprisingly. Your mother was somehow okay with you having him in your room when he visited, just as long as you claimed to keep the door open or unlocked. Yet, she had never actually bothered to check, much to your pleasure.

But you could almost feel the butterflies in your stomach as you thought of what would happen if she walked in right now, looking over the two of you. The bloody, beaten, broken boy climbing through your bedroom window. His shoes wet with the Indiana summer rain and hair a mess, she would have a fit seeing her daughter holding his hand, pulling him closer to your bed. Luckily, everyone except you had gone to sleep rather early in the night, so the two of you didn’t have much of that to worry about.

As soon as he was safely inside, you closed the window again, pulling the curtains shut from any possible  prying eyes. Next, thoughtlessly, you began to pack everything up on your bed, not bothering to organize any of it. Papers in a messy stack messily shoved into your book bag, books in a stack on the floor. Billy didn’t seem to mind the delay. Instead, he looked over the trinkets on your nightstand, inspecting each item out of curiosity.

“Sit.” You demanded. With a pained grimace across his face, he obliged. His expression turned softer as he looked at you, drinking in the concerned look in your eyes. Something else lurked behind that, though... A warm emotion, but he couldn’t tell what. “Billy... what happened?”

“It’s not a big deal, Y/N.”

“If it wasn’t a big deal, you wouldn’t have showed up at my house at...” Your eyes flickered up to the clock on your wall, reading the time. “A quarter past ten at night. You’re covered in blood and bruises, so I’ll ask again. What happened?”

He grew slightly annoyed as you persisted, his fingers resting on his thigh beginning to tense. Yet, with a deep breath in, and out, he brought himself to relax once more. He was frustrated, residual anger from the fight still burning in his belly, but would never take it out on you. Never. Quick to calm himself down, always. 

Billy loved you so much, far more than anyone else in his life. More than any of his friends, his previous flings or fuck buddies, more than any of his family. You were his number one, always. His favorite person in the whole world, the one person he actually looked forward to seeing every day. Billy felt nervous when he thought of you, warm, soft, as completely and totally uncharacteristic as it was. He was a badass guy, a player, a one night stand who’d usually ignore you the next day. And here you were, so kind and passionate, the perfect girl, so beautiful and amiable, practically everything he wasn’t. 

The two of you shouldn’t have even gotten together in the first place, it wasn’t right, given how much of a polar opposite pair it was, but God... When he held you in his arms, curled into his chest with your arm loosely hung over his stomach, legs tangled together in bliss, nothing had ever felt more right to him. Billy loved you. Even if he wasn’t good very good at telling you that, he certainly did love you. And he showed you that in his own fucked up ways.

“Some guy was talking shit about you, Y/N. I put him in his fuckin’ place real fast.”

You sighed, tilting your head back in frustration. This wasn’t the first time he’d gotten into some fight or another over you, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last, sadly. You were sure of it. “How many times do I have to tell you, baby? Let them say whatever they want, it doesn’t fucking matter. You don’t need to justify their bullshit with a response.”

“They were calling you a slut! A whore! You don’t want to know what the fuck else they said, Y/N!” he said, his voice slowly rising as he neared the end of his sentences. His body grew tense as he spoke, nervous. You held out a single finger, a silent reminder of the noise level. “I can’t fucking stand by and listen to that shit. You don’t deserve that. You don’t goddamn deserve for them to talk ‘bout you like that, Y/N.”

You sighed heavily, looking back down at him below you, his big blue doe eyes meeting yours. Goddamn it. This stupid little fight could wait until later. For now, he needed to get cleaned up before the cuts got worse, before the bruises began to swell any more. 

“Let me fix your face up, alright? Then we can talk about this again when shit’s  calmed down a little.”

“Fix it, huh? Didn’t know somethin’ was wrong with it.. So nice of you to mention it now, babe.” He smiled softly, letting himself laugh lightly. The frustration and anger the two of you had previously felt seemed to melt away after his little stroke of humor. He always was good at that, much to your disbelief. He could make any situation less (or more, depending) tense, less upset if he wanted to. Charming in just the right way. 

You took a step closer to him, sitting down on the edge of the bed. And finally, he turned to look at you in the lamplight, revealing the extent of his injuries. A nasty gash across his cheek, several little cuts along the bridge of his nose. A splotchy, swollen deep purple and blue left eye, a slice along his jawline. It would leave a couple pretty gnarly scars across his perfectly smooth, tanned skin, you were sure. A few more for his little collection.

“I’ll be right back, okay? Stay here.” You said softly, standing from the bed. He nodded slightly, letting his eyes fall down to his hands again. And for the first time, you looked over them. His knuckles were busted, the dried crimson-brown color staining his skin, clinging to the silver ring he wore. Jesus Christ. You’d hate to see the other guy. Probably in a coma somewhere, or even worse, dead. You couldn’t even imagine...

Sneaking around your house was something you were oddly, and overly, familiar with. Whether it be because Billy is up in your room and you don’t want to draw attention (much like right now) or just because you wanted a midnight snack, you had practically perfected the art itself. Making as little noise as possible, footsteps undetected. Perfect.

You proceeded to tiptoe ever-so-lightly down the hallway and through the living room, making your way to the kitchen to get some ice and a glass of water. Next, the bathroom. With a small towel and the first aid kit in tow (he would need the whole damn thing, you were sure), you began to make your way back to your bedroom, silently hoping, praying, to sneak by your parents’ room unnoticed. A success, no thanks to anyone but yourself.

Billy was in the same place you’d left him when you returned, save for his bloodied shirt that was now peeled off of him and held in his lap. And once again, you sat down on the bed beside him. But this time, you began your work, starting by wetting the washcloth slightly, gently beginning to scrub the blood from his cheeks, forehead, hands. Next, you placed a butterfly bandage over the wound on his cheek, to which he winced, but remained silent. Washing the blood from his muscular torso, bandaging the cuts on his waist and carefully pressing ice to his eye and cleaning the rather large cut on his jaw, you couldn’t help but  finally ask him.

“Billy?” You quietly asked. He looked up to meet your eyes. “Why are you all sliced up?”

“Stupid bastard had a knife. Thought it would help him win, I guess.” He mumbled. You shook your head in silent disapproval. Of course he had a knife. Just Billy’s luck, isn’t it?

Any other time, you’d be giving him shit. A little lecture about picking and choosing your battles. That backing down from a psycho with a knife doesn’t mean you’ve lost, nor won; It simply means you just don’t want to be fucking cut up today. But after a moment of quiet thought, you decided not to bother. Billy was tired, you could tell. His eyes were half shut as you fixed him up, probably moments away from drifting off to sleep. No doubt he was emotionally exhausted, too. You wouldn’t put him through that right now.

“Baby, I need you to promise me that you’ll stop fighting. Please. For me, okay? I don’t want you to be hurt like this again.” You paused your actions, instead looking over the cloth in your hand. Dark grey, but now, there was an a dark reddish tint all over it. Some places deeper than others, some still the original color of the cloth itself. Billy’s blood. The other guy’s blood...

“It’s cause you’re my girl, Y/N.” The boy’s voice was low, a lurking sadness hanging over him. “They say that shit because you’re mine. They wouldn’t do it if you were with King Steve or some shit.”

“But I don’t want to be with King Steve. I love you, Billy, only you. you know that.” 

“I love you too, babe.”

The two of you fell into a comfortable silence after that, and it wasn’t until you had finished cleaning him up that you finally spoke again. Standing from the bed, you stretched, yawning from tiredness. He watched as you took his shirt from him, placing it on the nightstand. You pulled open your nightstand drawer, retrieving a bottle of Tylenol. Popping off the lid, you handed two to Billy, along with a glass of water from earlier in the night. 

“Can you... Can you stay the night? Please?”

Billy nodded tiredly, a small, pleasant smile toying at his lips as he placed the pills in his mouth, swallowing them thickly, chasing them with a long sip of water. You brought your hands to loosely comb through his hair, pulling the tight curls out of his face. He was handsome, even like this. Covered in bandaged cuts and nasty bruises, he was still perfect. And he was yours. You were lucky enough to be able to call him yours. That still made you feel warm when you thought about it. The girl who was able to make the angry, wild playboy Keg King title-holder calm down for a while. 

Slowly, your hands moved to cup his cheeks as you leaned down to meet his level below you. At first, it was a hesitant, easy little kiss as he finally leaned forward, pressing his lips against yours to close the heated gap between the two of you. But after a moment, as his hands rose from his lap and stumbled to find your hips, it grew more and more passionate, a little rougher. You smiled as his grip on your skin tightened, keeping you close. Your arms came to wrap around his neck, doing exactly the same. 

Soon enough, you pulled away for breath, though hungry for more. He laughed lightly as both of your holds on each other loosened, allowing him to stand up and begin to strip himself of his slightly wet, very cold jeans. You laid down on the small bed, waiting for the boy to follow your actions. And after a second, he did. He laid on his side, facing you, pulling a funny face just to watch you smile. 

And soon enough, you rolled onto your side, letting his strong arms snake over your waist. Billy pulled you close into his warm chest, his face buried in the crook of your neck comfortably. You couldn't help but smile lightly as you felt his hot breath against you, forever reminding you that he was there as you quickly began to drift off to sleep.

“I love you, Y/N.”

[gaycrouton]

I want to see you try to write a problematic Mulder: Scully does something risky and later they fight, resulting in Mulder pinning Scully down on the ground. mini fic

Haha, woah. Lol, I love how much this made me realize I literally always make Mulder woke in my stories. I hope this fits what you wanted, though I will preface by saying that I don’t think Mulder would actually ever do this. So with that being said, I hope it’s not too OOC. I tried, lol.

It was the first time they’d been alone. Alone alone, not the awkward car ride of silence through the busy streets on the way here. Mulder could tell when she slammed the car door and stormed up to her apartment that she was angry. The way she nearly took his hand off trying to slam the door to her apartment told him he was the target of her fury.

Good. He wanted her to be mad, maybe she could reach his level.

He’d always hated cases that put Scully in any sort of danger, but he hated it more when she didn’t seem to care about her own safety. Tonight being the worst case of that he’d ever seen.

The VCU needed help catching a serial rapist and strangler, and apparently out of the whole damn bureau, Scully was the only one who fit his M.O. Short, thin, redhead, blue eyes, even down to the damn length of her hair. She was perfect.

Much to his own agitation.

He could tell she felt insulted when he insisted he be put on the case too, taking it as a sign he didn’t think she could handle herself. That wasn’t the case at all, he was just worried. Which she proved herself - he had a right to be.

The VCU wanted her to dress promiscuously and told her that none of the previous victims had a bag with them. Which effectively meant there was no room for her to carry a weapon.

Long story short, Scully - with no real means of protecting herself - followed him outside the back of the building by herself. The VCU caught him before anything happened, something Scully insisted she was certain would happen, but for that ninety seconds of not having her in anyone’s eyeline or earshot, he was certain he was going to go outside and find her dead body, or worse.

The VCU applauded her and thanked her while he brooded. He was furious, she knew that, and when he snapped that she was lucky she didn’t get herself killed, he got a short, clipped “I knew what I was doing.”

The rest of the car ride was tense with the bomb they both knew was about to go off.

Slamming the door behind him, he stalked after her into her apartment. “That was the most reckless thing you have ever done, Scully. Jesus Christ.”

“Don’t be a hypocrite, you run off on your own all the time,” she seethed immediately, without a doubt replaying every time he’d put himself in danger while she planned her responses to this argument during the car ride.

“Not when I’m being used as a decoy without any weapons on me.”

“I could have handled myself just fine Mulder. I’m a trained FBI Agent, or are you forgetting that?” she spat, kicking her shoes off and taking out the hanging earring she had to wear, slamming them down on her table.

“Of course I’m not Scully, but training doesn’t matter if he takes you off guard,” he lamented.

“I know how-”

“You know how to get out. I know you know how, but in case you haven’t noticed, you’re short, thin, and small. The suspect was bigger than you, he gets ahold of you and you’re out until he lets you out - which most likely would have been after he’d assaulted and killed you.”

“Is that what this is about? It doesn’t matter when you endanger yourself because you’re a big macho man,” she explained with exaggerated gestures. “I’m a woman, so I’m just a weakling. Is that how you see me? Am I just a liability to you?”

The fact she could ever think he considered her a liability in anyway pissed him off. “Of course I don’t Scully, but-”

“But nothing. I knew the VCU was on my ass. I knew if I went out, he would follow and they’d catch him,” she repeated, voice rising with each step she took towards him.

“And what if the club was too busy? What if they lost sight of you and only heard your distress? What-”

“I’d say you have a pretty low opinion of the capabilities of a team you used to work on,” she snapped.

“If there had been even one problem, something easily could have happened.”

“I would have been fine,” she repeated again, the rolling of her eyes that usually endeared him just acting as a slap in the face.

“You can’t be certain-”

“Shut up, Mulder. You can’t be certain-”

They say people’s worry and fear often manifests as anger. That’s the only excuse he had for what he did next. He just wanted her to be more careful and she wasn’t getting it.

She was standing in front of him, so engrossed in their fight that he knew she would be too stunned to initially react. Using one of his feet, he quickly hooked it behind her achilles heel and yanked it from out under her, sending her falling to the floor. However, instead of letting her fall completely, he grabbed her arms and twirled her around so that she fell onto his back, giving him the position to wrap his arms around her like a straight jacket. “Mulder, what the fuck do you mphf,” she was cut off as he raised a hand to cover her mouth.

“You were distracted,” he said without any joy at being proven right.

He used one of his legs to prevent her from getting proper footing as he dropped to the ground gently with her, placing his knees so that he was straddling her legs to prevent her from kicking him as he grabbed her wrists and pinned them to either side of her head.

As he looked down, he saw her eyes shining bright with fury as he was sure she saw sadness reflected in his. “Get up,” he prompted.

He saw her upper body move up with the force of her attempt to life her hands while his remained in place without any effect. He felt her squirming her legs underneath him, violently trying to buck him off with the only accomplishment being that the bottom of her dress was rising up, her chest straining against her low cut shirt with each twist. If he was the predator that’d been after her tonight, he had no doubts this would’ve turned him on and the thought made Mulder want to throw up.

“If he’d grabbed you like that - you’d be dead,” he growled, trying to choke back his tears.

“Fuck you, Mulder,” she seethed, gripping his hands so hard that her nails were digging into his skin.

The venom in her words stung and guilt washed over him. He released her hands and she immediately used her new mobility to scoot out from underneath his legs and raise herself into a sitting position. She was disheveled and he felt like an utter ass. “Scully, I’m-”

He was cut off by her hand slapping him hard across the face. He turned back to her and saw her eyes were wet with fury. “If you ever use your size against me like that, even if it’s just to prove a point, you will never see me again. That’s a promise,” her voice was shaking from her emotions and he fell to the side so he was sitting on his butt.

“I shouldn’t have done that,” he apologized, no words he could think of coming close to capturing his regret.

“No. You shouldn’t have.” He was glad she wasn’t leaving, but part of him just wanted to run away so he wouldn’t have to look at the hurt on her face.

“I���m so sorr-”

“And don’t take that as a victory, Mulder. Your little demonstration didn’t prove anything. I was on high alert with the suspect and was in defense mode. You took me off guard because I didn’t think I would ever have to be with you,” she reprimanded.

“You don-”

“Even if the VCU fucked up, I knew you wouldn’t. I knew you would be watching me. You’re my partner and I trust that you have my back.” She stood up as she explained this, and she continued while adjusting her outfit.

Then, fixing him with the most intent gaze he’d ever seen, she stated, “Never make me question that again.”

He watched as she walked away, locking herself in the bathroom, as he picked himself up and took her hint to leave her alone. Something he should have done much sooner.

[laylainalaska]

So we’ve watched the first 6 eps of Daredevil and we’re enjoying it (and thanks to people for reccing this season, because I’m liking it a lot better than season 2!) Still actively avoiding spoilers for the rest of the season.

A few random thoughts so far:

That scene in 3x06 when Foggy walks into the room full of dead people with Bullseye and is basically looking death right in the face and then Matt snatches the ... death-baton or whatever it was out of the air is straight-up awesome. It made me realize that I happen to be immensely fond of that particular trope - the one where a hitherto unrevealed character reveals themselves by snatching something out of the air/rescuing someone from Certain Death, and that was a particularly cool example, the switch-flip from “oh shit I know they’re not going to kill Foggy but I don’t know how he’s gonna get out of this” to “oh hi Matt!”

That whole fight scene was pretty cool, between the repurposed Office Supplies of Death, and Foggy and Karen being awesome Badass Normals even though they had no chance to win. I also liked the realism of Karen getting her gun taken away from her and having it used on someone else.

As for this next part, I would like to preface this by saying that I do like Matt and I like Charlie Cox’s face a lot, but Matt is still the Worst Friend, jesus. Especially that scene where he reveals to Foggy that he’s alive only to then:

Make Foggy promise to lie to Karen about it

Cut Foggy completely out of his life

Steal Foggy’s wallet and impersonate Foggy to Albanian gangsters, jesus christ Matt, what the hell, you’re lucky you didn’t literally get him killed

I mean I realize that he’s massively fucked up and suicidally depressed, but still.

I was also thinking about that speech that Sister Whoever gave to Karen about how everyone Matt ever loved leaves him, paraphrased: “I comforted him every night, but one night I couldn’t come because I had a bunch of other children to care for who also needed me, and then he decided I’d abandoned him too and shut me out completely”, and YEP, that’s Matt, all right.

The thing is, it is completely legit for an orphan with abandonment issues to feel that way, and it even makes sense in-character for Sister X to uncritically present it to Karen as “the screw-up was entirely mine and he was justified in cutting me out of his life.” It’s not like it’s OOC or unrelatable.

On a meta-level, though, the unexamined assumption is that love is essentially a one-way street, you owe someone your attention and time, if you mess up once then you’re done, and that’s just ... not how it works, but it does explain a lot about how Matt approaches relationships. He doesn’t seem to get that it’s a 2-way thing, that your friends worry about you as much as you worry about them, Matt, you messed-up dick, and sometimes you have to throw them a crumb or two rather than expressing love exclusively by showing up once in a blue moon to throw yourself bodily between them and danger, which granted, is certainly not nothing, but a little in-between would be a good thing to learn. Your friends can’t be the only people who give and forgive in this relationship. You gotta learn to bend a little too.

In fairness I feel like this season IS teaching him that, and while I’m not far enough along to know for sure how it goes, I’m cautiously optimistic that he’ll end the season in a better place than he started it.

But yeah, that conversation between Karen and the nun does kind of nail down the basic problem.

[haunting-kind-of-high]

The Angst Corner

Warnings: Mild swearing, some anxiety, hints of self-doubt, okay there’s more anxiey and a panic attack. Also Anti being a massive jerk. 

Tag list: @musicphanpie-b, @imin-loveanon, @ordinary-chaos, @sandersandthesides, @ajumbleofwords, @demonickittykat, @zadi-jyne, @serenefreakgeek, @fandons-mangoes, @leesacrakon, @gayfagg, @tree4life25, @loverofpizzaandallthingssweet

Notes: Based on this post by @turquoisemagpie.  Don’t ask me how they got there or why they are there, just… enjoy this. I based Dark and Anti on my own hcs and theories that I believe, so they might not be the same as yours sssssh. I feel like this is slightly ooc (especially Dark) but hey, who cares, it’s just a fic, right? I’m not sure I like the ending, but I couldn’t think of any way to end this haha. And lastly, a thank you to @words-to-fuel-the-imagination, @ilovemyspoopydad and @demonickittykat for helping me out (: (I’m also pretty sure there’s some others, but tbh I forgot who did what lmao sorry. Thanks anyways (: ) Enjoy this lil fic.

Read on AO3 here

Virgil didn’t know what he had done to be put in one room with the two demons. He would be put in that room whenever Thomas pushed him to the back of his mind. That had happened before, it was nothing new. What was new, however, was the fact that there were two others present in this room. Virgil didn’t understand why they were there; he’d never seen them before. They weren’t even Thomas’ sides. They were the dark personas of Marikiplier and Jacksepticeye. Why where they here and why was Virgil there with them? It wasn’t like he was a dark persona. He wasn’t a villain. Right?

Anti was toying with his knife as he eyed the anxious side. His weapon scraped across the floor and Virgil looked at his feet, trying to block out the noise. He tried his best to ignore it, but the sounds got on his nerves eventually.

“Will you just cut it out already?” Virgil snapped, looking at the glitching demon, whose lips curled into a smirk as he slowly got up. 

“Why?” Anti asked, his voice distorted by the glitches that accompanied him everywhere he went. He wrapped an arm around Virgil’s shoulder with a smile. “Does it annoy you, Virgeyboy?”

Virgil looked at the arm that was draped around his shoulders. He wanted to tell Anti to remove it, but he couldn’t seem to find the right words to convey the message. So he did the first thing that came to his mind. He hissed. Anti let out a surprised chuckle as he brought his face slightly closer to Virgil’s. 

“Feisty,” he said, “I like it.”

“Kiss my ass,” Virgil sighed as he moved his head away from the demon’s. He felt his heart speeding up.

“If you insi-”

“Anti,” Dark interrupted lazily, barely looking at the two others, “leave him be.”

“Or else?” Anti asked as he finally stepped away from Virgil and directed his attention towards Darkiplier. “Are you going to trap me in a mirror too, Darki?”

As soon as the green-haired demon had diverted his attention, Virgil slid down the wall until he was sat on the floor and took out his phone and headphones. All he wanted, was to listen to some music and scroll through Tumblr until he was needed again. He didn’t need the two demons as company. He didn’t need any more anxiety. He didn’t need any more self-doubt. Virgil turned up the music loud enough to drown out the bickering between Dark and Anti and focussed on the posts on the screen in front of him. 

“Jesus Christ, Virgil,” Anti said turning back to the side as he heard the tones of Hurricane. “Could you play your music any louder?” Virgil didn’t look up, as he couldn’t hear Anti’s words over Brendon Urie’s voice. Or because he chose to not pay any attention to the two. Anti rolled his eyes and moved over to Virgil. 

“Hey Reaper, I asked you something,” he snapped as he removed one of Virgil’s headphones. 

“What is it?” Virgil asked annoyedly as he paused his music and glared at the Irish demon. 

“Turn down the music. Some of us want to be able to think.”

“Calm down, demon-Shrek,” Virgil commented, looking down at his phone again. “If you don’t like my music, you could’ve just said that instead of whatever lame excuse that was. It’s not like I’m not used to it.”

He unpaused his music again and lowered the volume slightly. Virgil looked up for a few moments to smirk at Anti before focussing on his phone again. Dark smiled as Anti turned to him with a dumbfounded look on his face. He turned his face to Virgil again, trying to come up with a witty remark, but he saw that Virgil had already continued scrolling through Tumblr and the demon decided to let it slide. He didn’t have a comeback anyway. 

Virgil tried his best to focus on the posts on his dash and not on the thoughts in his mind, but he wanted to figure out why he was there with Darkiplier and Antisepticeye. It wasn’t like he was evil, like them. He had never killed Thomas or the other sides and he would never do anything like that. He had nothing in common with the two others in the room. Unless…

Maybe he was the villain after all. He was the one that made Thomas feel bad, after all. He tried his best to alter his ways but… what if the label would not be removed that easily? He still was anxiety, even if he tried to be easier on Thomas. He still made Thomas doubt everything and hesitate to do anything. He still wasn’t wanted. Maybe that was why they were here. 

Fuck. Virgil felt his hands starting to shake and his chest tightening. He tried to focus on the pictures he saw on his Phone. Gifsets, edits, regular pictures. As long as it could occupy his mind. He didn’t want the others to be there. He wanted to be alone, so he could let his anxiety take over and he wouldn’t have to worry about others. He wanted to be able to listen to his music and just sit there. He didn’t want to be there with Anti and Dark. They were murderers, sadists, manipulators. He didn’t want to be around them. He didn’t ask for this. 

Crap. He felt tears burning in the corners of his eyes. Why did he have to get so anxious? Why now? Virgil pulled his hood up and tried to hide his face from the two demons. He wanted to get out of there, as soon as possible. Preferably before his anxiety got too bad. He could hear the voices of the others calling out to him, but Virgil just groaned and covered his ears - his headphones, at least. 

“Just… just leave me be,” he said softly. His voice sounded so… weak. It trembled and it sounded so fragile. He hated it. 

“What’s wrong, Virgil?” Anti asked, his voice laced with - amusement? “What’s got you so panicked?” Virgil didn’t look up at Anti, he just clutched his headphones tighter, as if that would help him calm down. As if that would drown out the voice of Anti. Virgil shook his head as a response, trying to steady his breathing. He noticed he started breathing less regularly and he knew he needed to focus on keeping his breathing calm in order to keep himself calm. Relatively calm.  

“Nothing?” Anti questioned, a soft giggle following his question. “You’re so panicked about nothing? What a joke that is!” 

If only Virgil could find a way to make the demon shut up. He would do anything to stop hearing Anti’s voice. He’d turn up his music, but he was positive that Anti would have a remark on that as well. Why couldn’t he just leave him alone? Mind his own business? Was that too much to ask?

A sound left Virgil’s mouth. It sounded like a combination between a sob and a panicked breath. The anxious side covered his mouth with one of his sleeves. He just wanted to get out of there. He wanted to be away from Dark and Anti, he just wanted… to leave.

And again, he heard that chuckle of Anti, followed by Dark’s low voice. Virgil couldn’t hear what Darkiplier had said, as his music was still playing and Dark had talked to softly for Virgil to understand his words. But it didn’t matter, as Anti didn’t seem to pay attention to what he was told, as he turned to Virgil nonetheless.

Anti noticed a few tears rolled down Virgil’s cheek, no matter how much the side tried to hide this, and another chuckle left his mouth. He continued toying with his precious knife as he stepped towards Virgil, his eyes turning black for just a few moments. 

“Awww look at the little anxious baby,” he cooed, making sure it was hard enough for Virgil to hear it over his music. “Go on and cry, it seems to be the only thing you’re actually good at. The only thing you’re good for.“ 

Wouldn’t he shut up already? Could he never shut up? Virgil noticed Anti stepped closer to him again and he squeezed his eyes shut. Why couldn’t Anti just leave him alone? He’d done nothing wrong. 

“Anti,” Dark bellowed out of nowhere, making Virgil flinch back as a soft whimper left his mouth. “Leave him be.”

Virgil heard some soft protests and he heard Dark’s low voice, but after that, he heard nothing for a while. Nothing but his own music. Virgil opened his eyes ever so slightly and noticed from the corner of his eye that Anti had stepped back. Good. 

Instead, Dark had approached him and he started talking in a soft tone. Too soft for Virgil to understand it without pausing his music. Virgil lowered the volume of his music a bit to hear what Dark was saying. The demon’s low voice had a slight echo to it, but it was a welcome change from Anti’s glitching voice and appearance. Dark told Virgil to breathe, helped him calm down. And it helped, though Virgil knew to be wary. He knew Dark was a manipulative being and would take advantage of anyone if he could. But he couldn’t help but feel a bit grateful for the help Dark had offered him. He actually helped Virgil calm down, though the anxious side never lowered his guard. He just smiled at Dark as he calmed down, but didn’t talk to him more than he needed to. Not just because he felt unable to, after that panic attack, but also because he was afraid that Dark would take advantage of him if he did. Instead, Virgil just sat in the corner of that room, listening to his music until he was summoned again.

And the best thing was: Anti didn’t speak up again.  

[i-just-love-writing-crap]

Catching Murphy, Part 8

Warnings: Swearing, possible nsfw content, rape and murder of children is mentioned (because of an episode of a show, not just randomly brought up) Word Count: About 3428 Summary: You, Miss (y/n) (y/l/n), had a crush on Connor Murphy for years, from a distance of course. You had always been too shy to approach him, and the fact around school that he was an aggressive stoner caused you to become even more shy. One day, in history class, your teacher decided to assign a project and assigned everyone a partner—you and Connor were partnered together. Could you two grow close during the project and remain close? Or will Connor go back to ignoring you after the project comes to a close? A/N: I apologize if Connor is a biiiiit OOC… ;-; Obviously takes place in an AU where Connor is alive. Masterlist Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11

You and Connor were sitting in the kitchen, and you were eating the grilled cheese that he had made for you. He had used something other than American Cheese and holy crap, it tasted delicious. “This is amazing, Con. Thanks for making it,” you said as you took another bite. “What cheese is this?”

“White cheddar cheese,” he answered.

“Oh, it’s better than American Cheese,” you hummed. “Oh, I’m definitely gonna need some more of this!”

Connor laughed and watched as you ate the grilled cheese he had made for you. “Glad you seem to fucking enjoy it, dork,” he said.

You smiled giddily at the long-haired stoner sitting before you. “FUCK YES!! What are we going to do after this?” you asked.

“I may take you the fuck home? There really isn’t much to do today, unless you have an idea?”

You sat down your grilled cheese and hummed, “Ummmmm! Why don’t we watch tv? For a few hours, then you can take me home. Sound good?”

Connor thought about it and said, “Sure, why the fuck not. After you eat we can go into the damn living room and watch whatever you want, I guess.”

“Yeah! I’d like that, Con,” you said, beginning to eat again.

A few minutes later, you were ready to go into the den. “Okay~! Let’s go, Connor,” you said, standing up from the sit.

Connor stood up after you and walked into the living room. He plopped onto the couch and you plopped down beside him. The brown-haired stoner grabbed the remote and turned on the television. “What do you want to fucking watch?” he asked, looking over at you.

“Hmmm… how about Destination America? I love the creepy shit that they have on there! I wonder if A Haunting’s on!!” you exclaimed.

“Well, let’s fucking see, okay?” Connor asked and went to the television channel you wanted.

You squealed with happiness as you saw that the show you wanted to be on was on. “Yes!! It’s on!! And it’s The Wheatsheaf Horror, my favorite episode!!” you exclaimed, almost falling over in happiness.

“The what?” Connor asked, looking over at you.

You smiled and beamed, “Oh my God! So this episode is set in England, at a pub called Wheatsheaf. It’s really sad because it involves a child being murdered by this jackass named Joseph. And that’s all I’m telling you! Watch it with me, Con!”

Rolling his eyes, he said, “Fine, I’ll fucking watch it.” He sat back into the couch and asked, while it was on commercial (because you two popped into the show 15 mins in and it was time for a commercial), “So, do you only know that info because you searched it up later or do you learn all that shit from the show?”

“Well, most of it I do know from the show, but I know how the girl died. And it infuriates me. Like, this girl was maybe close to ten years old and she gets raped and strangled! I would have murdered that Joseph fuck, I’m glad her father killed that bastard,” you answered, sinking into the couch.

Connor’s eyes widened as you told him that and he sighed, “Wow, that’s fucking terrible…”

“Yeah, it really is, Con. And to think that some kids even to this day die like that is disturbing. I don’t understand the reason behind raping kids then murdering them, like are you so ashamed you raped a child that you have to kill them too? So that you aren’t reminded of the rape you just committed? Or so they cannot report you for raping them?”

“You just got really fucking morbid and fucked up, (y/n). Reel it back in, Jesus Christ,” Connor said.

“Oh, sorry,” you apologized.

Connor looked at you and said, “It’s okay? We all talk about fucked up shit from time to time, I guess.”

You covered your face. “Yeah, but I was actually… oh, it’s back on,” you said as it came back on. “Let us watch it!”

Connor rolled his eyes and turned his gaze towards the television. He watched the show and saw you sitting at the edge of your seat. He hummed to himself, deciding to ask you, “Hey, (y/n)?”

“Yes Con?”

“Wanna go stargazing later tonight? I mean, it’s a fucking Friday, might as well do something interesting, right?”

You looked at him and smiled, “Yeah, sure! Let’s do it! I would enjoy that.”

Connor smiled briefly to himself, said in response, “Good. We can go later tonight. I know a really good fucking spot for stargazing.”

An excited look crossed your face as you answered, “I believe it! And I can’t wait to go stargazing!!” You went back to watching the show.

The long-haired stoner leaned back and closed his eyes. His eyes were getting really heavy, and he noted that normally it would take him longer to get tired while high. It was weird that his eyes were so heavy, but he knew he wouldn’t be napping for long.

When Connor opened his eyes, he was under a star-speckled sky. “Orion is out, what do ya know,” he said to himself.

A female’s chuckle came from beside him and he snapped his head to look in its direction. It was you, smiling brightly as your eyes were focused on the starry sky above you two. “Yeah, my favorite constellation is Orion. I love how it’s so recognizable because of it’s belt stars. You know what they’re tied to?” you asked, placing your hands on your stomach.

“The Giza pyramids,” he answered. “I know that much.”

You giggled and looked over at him, the same bright smile on your face and your eyes were filled with love and what seemed like adoration. “I’m glad you know that, Connor. Makes it seem like you’re taking an interest in my passion,” you said then casted your gaze back at the sky. “The night sky is gorgeous, huh?”

Connor watched you, his heart slightly speeding up. You looked so beautiful with you (h/c) hair splayed across the grass beneath your head. He took a moment to take in the way your eyes twinkled as you stared at the sky. As he continued to take in you, he thought to himself, What the absolute fuck has she done to me? He wanted to reach out and touch your hand, and tell you that he’d always be there for you, even if he had a terrible temper.

He wanted to do a lot of things he would have never done before he had been partnered with you. Dare he say that in two days of talking with you that he had began falling for you? Yes, yes he did dare say that. Connor Murphy was quickly falling in love with you, the teacher’s pet. Gathering himself, he began, “Hey, dork?”

You tilt your head toward him again, “Yes, Connor?”

He felt himself grow flustered under your gaze, knowing he would regret what he was about to ask, but he still wanted—no needed to ask you this. For what seemed to be the first time in his life, Connor stuttered like Evan, “W-Will you go out with me…? It’s okay if you don’t want to!” You quickly sat up and stared at him, disbelief swirling in your eyes, thinking that this was a joke. Beginning to feel embarrassed he asked, Connor stammered, “F-fuck, you know what, just f-forget I said anything… I’m sorry that was s-so weird. S-shit, look, do—”

You cut him off with a cute little laugh and a smile, the disbelief swirling in your eyes just moments before gone. “Oh Connor, I would lo—”

You were shaking Connor by his shoulders excitedly, while exclaiming, “Connor! Connor! Look you’re gonna miss the good part!” You pointed at the television.

Connor’s eyes focused on the screen, the episode was a different one and he rolled his eyes, grumbling, “God dammit, it was getting to the good part.”

Laughing, you answered, “Yeah, I know, that’s why I woke your ass up, Con!”

15 minutes later, The Wheatsheaf Horror ended and another episode of A Haunting came on. But this time it an episode that dealt with demons, and you were slightly spooked. Thankfully the sun wasn’t ready to set yet but you still subconsciously scooted closer to Connor. “Why the fuck are you scooting closer to me, dork?” Connor asked you, raising his eyebrows in confusion.

“I, umm, I, uh…” you laughed nervously, “I don’t like… demons. Th-they scare me…”

“Then why do you watch this stuff, you fucking idiot?” he grumbled.

“Because, I-I like this stuff!” you answered.

Crossing his arms, Connor said, “You’re a fucking moron, you know that?”

Nodding, you shoved your face into Connor’s clothed chest, “Yes!! This is an episode I haven’t seen yet.”

Connor gasped a bit as you buried your face into his chest. She’s so fucking cute, he thought to himself, resting an arm hesitantly around your shoulder. It happened without him putting much thought into it. Connor wanted to protect you, but he also was freaking out, he had never protected someone before in the way his heart was saying he wanted to protect you.

You hummed in surprise as he unknowingly pulled you closer to his body. He was warm and you splayed across his chest. The demonic episode faded in the back of your mind, as your senses were flooded with Connor. Only Connor. You listened to his breathing and heartbeat instead of listening to the television. Again, everything was consumed by Connor’s presence—your thoughts, your hearing, your smell, your touch, everything. Subconsciously you grabbed a fistful of his shirt as your buried your face into his chest yet again. 

The smell of his cologne filled your nostrils and you felt like you were getting dizzy. You thought to yourself, Can I just smell him all day? His scent is so fucking intoxicating! Fuck everything but Connor Murphy right now!

Connor felt you burying your face into his chest and thought it was only because you were frightened because of the episode. He wasn’t aware that you were just enjoying both the warmth and scent of his body. “Don’t fucking worry, dork. Nothing’ll get you. I fucking promise,” he said out loud and mostly to himself.

Luckily, you were not remotely listening to what he could have been saying. You were still absorbed in Connor to care. Ah, fuck, he smells too good~ you thought to yourself. “You smell fucking amazing, Con,” you said aloud and dreamily.

Connor heard you, looked down at you and said, “The fuck? What did you just say, dork?”

Now that you heard. Hearing his voice, you stopped immediately. D-did I just say that out loud…? “W-what? What did you say, Con?” you asked in a stammering voice.

“I asked you what the fuck you just said, moron,” the long-haired stoner said, his eyes boring into your soul.

You felt yourself grow anxious. Yes, of course you knew what you said. “I, umm… I said nothing, Connor,” you said quickly.

“That’s bullshit, because I know what you said. I just fucking wanted you to admit what you said, idiot,” he hissed. “Now get the fuck off me.”

You shot off Connor, throwing your hands in the air. “Okay, okay, okay. Sorry… you were just so inviting and I didn’t want to leave your chest,” you spoke quickly.

Connor pushed himself off the couch and said, “Whatever. Fuck. Do you want to just go on a drive? While we wait for the right time to go stargazing?”

“Sure…? It is a Friday, so I can stay out much later,” you said, standing up yourself.

“Okay, let’s fucking go then,” he said, grabbing his keys from his pocket. Walking towards the front door, Connor looked over his shoulder and saw you bounding up behind him. He smiled to himself as he opened the front door and walked out to his truck, you following on his heels.

As you two got situated in his truck, you looked over at him and said, “Hey, could we still listen to my music? I promise it’s different than Marianas Trench!”

Looking over at you, he said, “The fuck kinda music are you going to play then?”

“A musical…” you muttered.

“A WHAT?! You’re into that shit?” he laughed. You nodded shyly, made a little noise and he stopped laughing. Like, you were so cute and you weren’t even trying. After Connor composed himself, he said, “Which fucking musical?”

You hummed to yourself, looking at your phone, “It’s more of which musicals… I’m obsessed with Heathers, Hamilton and Be More Chill… d-don’t ask me why, blame Alexa!”

Connor rolled his eyes as he answered, “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“NO! I’m not kidding! B-but, we don’t have to listen to my music… I don’t have much that would i-interest someone like you, Connor.”

Sighing, Connor pulled his phone out. “Do you like Arctic Monkeys, dork?” he asked.

“Arctic what?” you asked, tilting your head.

“Never fucking mind, you’ll learn today,” he handed you his phone. “While I drive, plug my phone into the AUX cord and play my Arctic Monkeys playlist. Do you fucking understand? Oh, and while you’re at it, I guess you can put your number in there, too. Y-y’know so we can text about this damn project!”

You nodded, plugged his phone into the AUX cord, put your number in his phone and played his playlist. “Okay, it’s done, Con. You can start drivin’ now,” you said.

“I already did, fucking dork,” he laughed under his breath.

“Oh… cool. Also, I’m gonna text myself from your phone so I have your number,” you said, typing out a text from his phone. After you got the text and saved his number. You clicked his phone closed and set it down. “Okay, have your number now, Con,” you said with a smile. “So, we just gonna drive around town until it’s premium stargazing time?”

Shrugging, Connor answered, “Pretty fuckin’ much. We can go on the back roads if you don’t mind.”

“Am I witnessing Connor Murphy asking for someone’s agreement? I just you would just force me to do whatever the fuck it is you want me to do,” you laughed from behind a hand.

Rolling his eyes, Connor answered, “Pssh, you wish. You’re in my truck, we do what ever the fuck I want to do, goddammit.”

You laughed and looked down at your phone. Three people had texted you. Your mother and Evan and Jared (yes, you two exchanged numbers too). Your mother just wanted to know your plans for the night and you told her you would be back at home by midnight.

From: Smol Bean🌱 Hey, (y/n)… it doesn’t bother you if I text you, does it??

You could hear the anxiety as he typed that, you answered him with a smile.

To: Smol Bean🌱 Why would it bother me, Evan? Got anything you wanna talk about?

After you sent that to Evan, you looked at Jared’s text.

From: Glasses Kink 👓 Hey, sexy, what’cha doing tomorrow night? Wanna fuck? …or go to a party with me and Evan? Connor may go if that idiot ever answers his fucking phone!

To: Glasses Kink 👓 Sorry, Glasses. You know I only fuck Connor right now, but thanks for the offer, if I get desperate and I stop fucking Con, I’ll hit you up. As for him answering right now, he’s… B U S Y

From: Glasses Kink 👓 Are you with him?

You laughed and looked at Connor, biting your lower lip. Jared didn’t need to know that you were just driving around, so you thought why not fuck with him? Couldn’t hurt? After all, had to keep up that you and Connor had actually had sex.

To: Glasses Kink 👓 Yeah, I am. I think we’re about to fuck or something. But, idk, Con likes to tease me with a small taste of it I’m gonna get then sometimes he just doesn’t give it to me. But then again, this is our like, THIRD day having sex, soooooo

From: Glasses Kink 👓 ARE YOU TELLING ME YOU AND CONNOR HAVE BEEN FUCKING SINCE YOU MET?!

To: Glasses Kink 👓 That’s exactly what I’m saying, Glasses. So, if I randomly stop texting you know why ;p

From: Glasses Kink 👓 Oh that is so unfair that Murphy gets to fuck you but I don’t

To: Glasses Kink 👓 Is that so? Maybe I should tell him what a fucking treat it is to be sexing me up?

From: Glasses Kink 👓 You don’t have to tell him that, but do know when you’re done with Murphy, I’m right here for you ;)

You rolled your eyes and sighed out loud. Your sigh caught Connor’s attention and he said, “The fuck are you sighing about?”

“Glasses Kink…” you muttered.

“Glasses Kin—” he started then gasped, understanding who you meant, “Jared. What the fuck are you doing texting that dork?”

You shrugged and looked back down at your phone, saying, “I’m also texting Evan, too. Jared also said that there’s a party tomorrow, is that true?”

“I fucking guess? He may have just texted me about that shit. That nerd is always getting us invited to parties and Evan and I end up dragging his drunk ass out of the party. Usually he ruins the whole goddamn outing for us,” huffed Connor.

From: Smol Bean🌱 I was wondering if you could help me with some history homework?

To: Smol Bean🌱 Yeah, I can. Text me whatever you need, Ev

From: Smol Bean🌱 Thanks, (y/n)

To: Smol Bean🌱 Please, call me (y/n/n), Ev

From: Smol Bean🌱 Ookay

You laughed and looked at the text you just got from Evan. “Well, that fucking sucks, Con. But, if I am invited, I can make sure Jared doesn’t get too drunk!” you laughed.

“Yeah, because you’ll be the dumbass fucking drunk. You are the type of fucking dork who has never gone to a party before. Because she was too guarded as a freshman in high school,” scoffed Connor.

Nodding, you answered, “Okay, guilty as charged, okay, but fuck. It would fun to go to a party with you, Connor. We can see how explorative I get when drunk.” You teasingly lick your lips at him, which of course he caught out of the corner of his eye.

It almost caused him to fucking choke on his own spit. “FUCK!” he coughed.

“Sorry, Connor!” you exclaimed.

“I could have,” he trailed off into another cough, “FUCKING killed us because of that!”

You shrunk, apologizing, “I said I was sorry… I won’t do it again…”

“Thank fucking God!”

“While you’re driving. I’m definitely going to lick my lips, you always look delicious to me,” you finished, winking at him, biting your lower lip. Connor glared at you in a side-glance and you buckled over in your seat, covering your mouth, laughing hysterically. “OH MY GOD!! I can’t believe I said that with a straight face,” you cry-laughed to yourself.

“You are absolutely fucking horrid, (y/n),” he hissed.

“But you still wanna fuck me!” you laughed, “You have to wanna fuck me around Glasses Kink!”

Connor groaned and focused his eyes on the road, “Well, the sun has gone down, we can go to the park and stargaze now.”

You nodded, “I’d like that. Can we fuck afterwards?” You bit your lip, knowing Connor was so done with your shit.

His sigh gave it away. He was so fucking annoyed with you, but something about you was endearing. Like, he really did grow feelings for you in the two or three days you two had been talking. Taking an entirely different approach to his retort, he surprised you with a serious sounding, “Yes! Okay, fine, we’ll fuck on the hood of my truck! Are you satisfied, (y/n)? I am going to fuck you on the hood of my truck and you will enjoy it like you always do, you fucking slut for me!”

“Oh wow… that was actually kinda hot, Connor,” you said aloud.

“That was the point,” he said, turning his attention to you at a stop sign. He leaned over, grabbed your chin and forcefully kissed you. Not that you minded in the slightest. No, you were actually liking the kisses you had been receiving from Connor the last day and a half. When he pulled away from the kiss, he started driving towards the park.

TAGS: @saturdayschilddrivesmewild  @defenestrate-yourself-please  @hamilton-canyouimagine  @philyylester  @arsonboirich

Also, I plan on the parts getting longer after this one. I plan on ending “Catching Murphy” at part 15 and starting a new one, taking place in college called “Loving Murphy” because why tf not, right?

[thedegenerateasexual]

chapter six opens with scott and allison STILL making out listen they absolutely let jackson the kanima get away when they were banging in season 2 and like this is just such a pleasant jolt of nostalgia for me they're being ridiculous and smooching when serious shit is going down and i couldn't be happier for them

like i can't even quote every dumb sappy wonderful thing scott says about her because it would just be the entire book

omg

allison's like SCOTT BEHIND U and there's the white wolf again, staring really really hard at scott

so they stand there for a few minutes frozen solid bc what if it attacks them? and then it finally leaves

and then allison starts absolutely gushing about how beautiful it is and scott's reaction is like making me REALLY emo:

Scott moved her hair away from her forehead. "The wolf," he said. "You, you thought it was . . . beautiful?"

She nodded. "All that hair, or fur, or whatever you call it. And those sleek muscles underneath its pelt. Did you see its eyes, Scott? It looked . . . wise." She made a face. "Okay, now I'm romanticizing it. Let's just say it was really cool to see a wild animal up close like that, and leave it at that."

She couldn't know how much her reaction meant to him. Derek's sister, Laura, had looked like a wolf in death. Maybe eventually he would look like that. And if Allison saw him, she would think he looked beautiful.

And not like the monster he changed into now.

i am c r y i n g like i legit got a little misty

like this ties in SO nicely with "you're not a monster you're a werewolf" and scott’s journey of how he sees himself

also i'm so sad we never got full shift scott i really really wanted him to get there someday

he's always been afraid of this power hurting his loved ones and it took such a long time for him to see & accept that maybe it could be used to HELP his loved ones (though i think that fear will sort of live in the back of his head forever - the worst-case scenario - not at all LIKELY, not anymore, logically he knows that, but always possible, and always the thing he wants the least, what he's most afraid of)

they start to leave but allison feels guilty about not looking for jackson, so she checks their little find-my-phone map again and scott realizes he smells smoke

then his phone rings, it's stiles, we switch to stiles pov while theyre talking

"My new best friend and I are at the hospital," Stiles said, twirling the listening end of a stethoscope in a little circle. So far he had been unable to hypnotize Derek with it. Nice werewolf, watch the watch . . . Maybe you needed a real watch to hypnotize people. Or a real person.

FUCK god damn it okay i really really dislike the ship but honestly they are so funny together

especially in season 1 bc derek is like perpetually so entirely Done with everything and it takes the form of like this monosyllabic worn-out #mood and stiles is EQUALLY done but it's this high-energy frustration like it really does play incredibly well

FUCK stiles like "you CAN get past hospital security if you wear a white coat and carry around a clipboard" "Derek grunted. He was the one holding the clipboard, but he had passed on wearing a lab coat."

stiles then realizes scott can't candidly discuss wolfie matters and reports as such to derek. then: "Because he's with her," Derek said, looking even more dour than usual. Stiles had never realized there were so many degrees of the brood until Derek Hale had come into their lives." 

a sterek shipper definitely wrote this like im sorry but this reads just like sterek fic

oh my god derek fucking stole the phone from him to ask where scott was and then just demand he leave ldfjgh

switch to derek's pov as he stalks out and says stiles can't come with him

oh my G O D

"Derek took a tiny bit of satisfaction in the way the human had to trot along to stay abreast. He was sick to death of taking the weaknesses of humans into account while formulating his plans. He respected power, and few humans had any. The Argents did. But what he felt for them was not respect." ok this is a little ooc maybe bc i dont think derek respects power in s1 i think he covets it and fears people who have it over him but also, he's still afraid of the argents, all of them, then by the end of the series he's lowkey buddies with chris like not even on a shipping level i am crying about it

anyway stiles wants to go with him bc derek cant just run up to them and say he SCENTED them out, it makes more sense for stiles to explain he tracked them with the app. derek naturally threatens to rip his throat out if he doesn't do as he's told which leads to him recounting a bit of his past: "Threats like that had produced perfect results in the past—at Derek's command, Stiles had almost cut off his poisoned arm rather than suffer his wrath. Luckily Scott had arrived with the antidote—a bullet he had stolen from Kate Argent. She had a box of ammo filled with Northern Blue Monkshood—wolfsbane. Derek had used the wolfsbane to cure himself. Just another reason to hate Kate with all his soul."

oh my god THIS WHOLE SCENE jesus CHRIST

i like how in derek's pov there's some small part of his brain kind of always thinking about kate look at this

"I had a nightmare, Derek thought, and huffed to himself. There was no way he was telling Stiles that. Werewolves didn't share information with humans, ever. Except for him, Derek Hale. He had shared information with a human. He hadn't meant to. And the results had been disastrous."

derek finally relents and says they can take stiles's jeep but he still NEVER TELLS HIM about the weird fire dream god derek doesn't trust anyone he really really REALLY doesnt it was such a hard-learned lesson

then we get a paragraph about how jackson is lost - he bolted from the campfire because he's "good at reading signals" and his instincts told him to get the hell out of dodge

derek's scratches are really bothering him! ha ha

anyway he texts lydia so he "won't be spending night number two alone" and there ends our chapter