#oof this was a word vomit for the ages

[exitpursuedbyavulcan]

Lord Flea Bottom's Heir: A Silver Dragon Story

Word Count: 1334

Story Summary: Daemon had expected to be welcomed with the news of his wife's demise when he returned to King's Landing. Instead, he is greeted with the decidedly unwelcome news that the Bitch was to give him an heir. His plans to finally take Rhaenyra to wife thoroughly dashed, he leaves the Red Keep behind to wallow in his own domain: Flea Bottom.

Ignored by her father, and alone following the death of her mother, she is raised in King’s Landing alongside her cousin, Prince Aemond Targaryen. As they grow, the two find themselves indelibly bonded. But their lives are far from the fairy tales they read, and as tensions in the family rise, they find their paths may diverge.

Will they be pulled apart when the dragons dance?

This is a spin-off POV from my main Aemond/OC story, The Silver Dragon. But it can be read as a one-off, standalone look into Daemon's mind.

Warnings: Allusions to rape. Daemon being a dick.

Author's Note: Oof, it was hard to write such mean things about Rhea. Forgive me!

Series Masterlist

Lord Flea Bottom's Heir

The stench of Flea Bottom was invigorating. The competing smells of ale and wine and sweat and sex sent a thrill through his blood. Even the reek of tallow candles and vomit in the streets was as comforting to him as the smell of a warm fire and a hearty meal was to most. It made him want to drink until he finally felt full, fight until there was no more blood to spill, and fuck until there were no virgins left in all of King’s Landing.

It was, after all, his domain. He was Daemon Targaryen, Lord Flea Bottom.

So why could he not get his ass out of this godsdamned chair?

He had sat down over an hour ago and had yet to finish even his first pint of ale. The gold cloaks he had brought along with him – only the handful that remained that hadn’t been corrupted with “righteousness and honor” by their insufferable new Lord Commander Strong – had already provoked various brawls, but none tempted him enough to join. And while several lovely whores had come his way, he had turned them all down.

Daemon couldn’t get his mind off his Bronze Bitch.

He would never get hard so long as she was in his head.

She had sapped him of his desire to drink, as well. There was no telling where his mind may go should he let himself get drunk while thinking of her.

And though he would like nothing more than to pummel the next person to look at him wrong into the ground, he couldn’t.

The last time he had tried to break someone – to break her – he had failed spectacularly.

It was supposed to be quick and easy. He would fly to the Vale one last time, when he was sure she would be alone, and rid himself of the bronze shackles of his marriage. Finally, he would be free to take the wife he truly wanted. The wife he deserved.

But then the fucking horse hadn’t done the job. There was no reason why not; it was an obscenely large beast. It had certainly made quite the meal for Caraxes.

He had been content to let her die where she lay. To allow the elements of her beloved Vale to take her. Her boring, soggy, primitive, sheep-ridden Vale.

Gods, what an agonizingly dull place. He had only lasted weeks in her pitiful excuse for a castle before he went out of his mind with boredom. The Bitch had been smart enough to give him leave to do as he wished.

She hadn’t been smart enough to keep her mouth shut, however.

“I knew you couldn’t finish.”

A Bitch indeed.

He had run hot enough with anger that he’d gotten hard, a feat he never thought to accomplish when faced with his wife.

That had been the greatest disappointment when they finally met on their wedding day. She was old and ugly. At least ten years older than him – he’d never bothered to find out exactly.

Her many hours spent in what little sun appeared in the Vale had aged her prematurely, so her painfully plain face was tanned and rough, and bore many lines. Her dull gray eyes were too far apart and framed by thick, bush brows, her lips too small, and her nose pointed up like a pig’s. Even her hair was unappealing. As bushy as sheep’s wool and the color of burnt wood.

In short, she was precisely what a virile young man of twenty, a Prince of the Realm and the Blood of the Dragon, did not want for a wife. And yet, he was stuck with her.

He still was.

Dropping her off at her pathetic keep was supposed to be the final insult. To paint the “Warrior Lady of Runestone” as no more than a damsel in distress. So that in her last hours, she could wallow in the knowledge that she would only be remembered as the poor girl rescued by the Prince.

But she hadn’t. Fucking. Died.

Maybe there was some magic in those stupid little Runes.

And still, that wasn’t the worst of it.

He was supposed to be free, and now, he had never been more shackled to the cunt.

“I hear congratulations are in order, my Prince,” Mysaria’s accent was perhaps the most gentle thing in Flea Bottom. But today, it grated in Daemon’s ears.

He took a great gulp of his ale. Bitter, but bracing. “Condolences would be better appreciated.”

Mysaria took the seat across from him. She had continued to do well for herself, judging by her clothes. Only the most influential whores showed that little skin. “As I recall, you were once quite eager to have children of your own. Heirs to strengthen your claim.”

“Heirs, yes,” Daemon conceded. “Bitch-spawn, not so much.”

“I see,” she smiled politely, but he could tell his words bothered her. For a woman who assured her own barrenness, she was quite protective of children. “So, you are not here to steal another egg, then.”

“No. If she doesn’t die before the runt is born, it can claim a dragon for itself – if it’s worthy of it, which I doubt.” He chuckled as a dark thought entered his mind, the kind he could only voice here in his vile little kingdom. “Sheepstealer may be a good fit. Though for a child of the Vale, ‘Sheepfucker’ would be a more apt name.”

Mysaria did not laugh with him.

“Oh, come on,” he sighed. “That was funny.”

She only frowned. “No matter your opinion of the mother, this child will still be yours. Your family, Daemon.”

He scoffed, turning away from her. But she did not relent.

“You have always been so careful not to leave bastards in your wake,” she insisted. “Yet now that you have the chance of a trueborn heir, you have no interest. I know you better than perhaps anyone, my Prince. But I do not understand this.”

Daemon scowled, his brow forming a hard line over his violet eyes.

“Whatever this child is, it’s worse than a bastard. Because it’s hers, and I hate her. I don’t want to live my life being forced to look at whatever crawls out of her wretched cunt. I don’t care if it is the very image of me – of a trueborn Targaryen. Because it will be, and will always be hers.”

He leaned forward, close enough that even the White Worm showed a glimmer of fear. “I have spent nine years of my life chained by my ‘marriage’ to that Bronze Bitch. The very worst thing I can imagine is having to live the rest of my life tied to her because my seed somehow found purchase in the arid desert of her womb.”

Even after all the years he had spent with her, he could not tell whether it was pity or disdain that now sparkled in Mysaria’s eyes. Perhaps both.

She stood and refilled his mug. “If she makes it through the pregnancy, she will not survive the birth.” When he raised an eyebrow in question, she clarified. “I have heard vivid accounts of her wounds. Tell me, was that you or Caraxes?”

“Bit of both, I suspect,” he snickered. “It is dangerous to ride a dragon without being properly strapped to the saddle. I must have forgotten.”

“I have only one last question.”

He gestured for her to go on. However personal and maddening this had gotten, it was at least mildly entertaining. A vent for his frustrations.

“Why give her your seed? Even to humiliate her, why take that risk? Why not just kill her?”

Silence fell in their little corner of the brothel.

“That was three questions.”

“Yes, but I seek only one answer.”

Daemon’s eyes grew ever dark. It was a darkness only a Targaryen with dragonfire in his blood could muster. The darkness that had made Visenya and Maegor, and many of his ancestors before, so fearsome.

“She mocked me.”

[thestarryskiesofpalaven]

ok i took my sweet time w starting on this post but time for semi-coherent thoughts abt fates after finishing it for the first time w both vanilla and w the gay fates hack

short version: intsys perish challenge

long version: BOI

- why the FUCK does corrin have s-supports w their adoptive siblings

- if i go into the fates tumblr/ao3 tag and i see u shipping corrin/hoshidan or nohrian royals im gonna come to ur house and stab u with a toothpick

- for that matter why do the cousins in this game have s-supports intsys. im gonna kill u. corrin/azura??? midori/asugi????? knife emoji x1000

- on-topic kinda but y’all lured me in w the promise of corrin/azura getting so many cutscenes and romantic buildup and leading an army together for truth and justice only to then go ‘whoops guess what they’re cousins’ y’all better watch ur backs intsys im comin for u

- soleil fire emblem big lesbian and intsys’ homophobia can’t do a goddamn thing abt it.

- why is there a literal fujoshi character in the game. intsys face my blade!!!!! nina is my character now im saving her from u.

- for that matter every character is mine now. intsys perish.

- intsys’ camilla was completely shafted by them to be a fanservice ‘waifu’ (blegh that felt physically painful to type) and removed any depth she has for the sake of tiddy; thank u gay fates hack for much more depth for camilla and also v good support lines for her. best mom friend.

- caminoka rights

- on a related note who was the character designer for fates i wanna have a word w them abt their horny levels and also they can perish

- charlotte honey i’m sorry u got done so dirty. u too camilla

- also no matter how much the game or anyone in the fandom plugs their ears and chants ‘elise sakura and hayato are adults; elise sakura and hayato are adults; elise sakura and hayato are adults it says so in the game-’ its not gonna change that they’re at the biggest stretchity stretch 15-16. dont get me started on nyx either, or on fire emblem’s continuing obsession w ‘immortals/dragons/gods/whatever that look like 12-yo kids’.

- or midori for that matter. game: ‘refers to midori as an adult’ me: im gonna KILL you intsys

- or HANA how could i forget hana

- srsly you look at their portraits and you think that’s an adult???? im calling the police u fuckin creeps

- story felt rly stilted like i WANTED to like it but its just. bland. this is primarily abt br/cq, but even revelations like. i LOVE ‘everyone lives and is happy’ endings but they made even that somehow stilted!!

- my story now too, needless to say.

- give rinkah the str and def stats she DESERVES look at those MUSCLES

- OH RIGHT also what the FUCK kind of bullshit are the deeprealms???? ‘baby safety and caretaking away from war’???? more like oocrealms????? badparentingrealms???????? either learn to use condoms or actually raise your goddamn kid intsys what kinda writing is this??? perish

- seriously the paralogues made me so goddamn mad!!! the negligence!!!! the abandonment!!!!!!! visiting every few months/years by the kids’ reckoning!!!!!!! anyway nobody in the main cast is that much of a bastarde y’all just can’t write.

- again, my characters now.

- appreciated unbreakable weapons, mandatory armsthrift was tiring to get for everyone in awakening

- elise and sakura are the best and most sensible characters of all and also they’re gfs

- also sakura and hana they’re gfs too……… childhood friends AND lady and knight??????? bro…

- elise: “this is my girlfriend sakura and this is sakura’s girlfriend hana :D”

- gay fates hack made me ship severa/azura what the fuck that c-s support line was so GOOD

- severa/oboro’s c-s too????????? GOD

- THE HACK’S XANDER/OBORO C-S………………… chef kiss… gimme that relationship drama and resolutions!!!!!!!

- lots more v good supports in gay fates but this is Gettin Long

- leo and takumi are absolute nerds who are 2 peas in a pod except when they’re too busy failing to be enemies to actively be the friends they already are i love them and they love each other

- my awakening kids!!! they were one of the high points of this game admittedly altho not what intsys attempted to do w them lmao

- kagerochi rights!! love those childhood friends to lovers

- scarlet deserves better in revelations for fuck’s sake

- ‘maid’ and ‘butler’ classes………………… seriously. insert ben affleck smoking image here

- let flora and felicia live their dreams…… reclass your local flora to hero Today

- that hearts minigame in the private quarters where u invite ppl to hang out just screamed ‘we wanted to make it as horny as possible but we were stopped by someone with a bit more sense’

- thank u gay fates team for 10 times better supports than in the game and also giving soleil the gfs she deserves.

idk there’s probably more to say im forgetting but this is already v long. anyway fates bad, intsys bad, my characters now

[slothspaghettiwrites]

I Need You In My Bloodstream

I Need You In My Bloodstream

Story Rating: Explicit, 18+ only

Kink: Blood Play - is an umbrella term for any erotic or sexual activity involving blood. Blood play typically involves self-harm or damaging a partner’s body to spill blood.

Warnings: blood and guts, noncon blowjob, referenced past/future noncon, major character death (your friend and implied future you), kidnapping, gore, almost modern AU, body horror, almost vomitting, choking with a belt, slight cum play, it's just a bad time for everyone but Mr Freezy.

Relationships: Ghoul!Robert Pronge x GN!Reader

Word Count: 1319

A/N: Ghoul - scavenger creatures that live in graveyards and traditionally feed on the flesh and blood of the dead. This was supposed to be my darkest fic for kinktober... I'm not sure if it hits the mark, but I couldn't resist this combo so here we are.

This work has Adult Content. By clicking “Keep Reading” you have agreed that you are over the age of 18 and are willing to view such content. My work is not to be copied or translated onto any other platform. I have discontinued my taglist - follow @slothspaghettilibrary to be notified of when I post new fics.

You followed your friend through the array of tombstones and food trucks, cool air mixed with waves of scrumptious warm food as you tried to keep up. The halloween festival was in full swing, people in costumes crowding in for drinks and niche hipster food. You were stuffed full, but your friend was desperate to try everything.

“Okay this is the last one, then we will call a cab and never eat again.”

They pointed down the line, to a truck that had one yellowed light and rust growing around the wheel wells. The old school ice cream truck was nearly out of the festival completely. It’s dirty, stained awning casting a darker shadow over the inside of it.

"What can I get ya?" A unkempt man in an unwashed white suit asked, his long stringy hair hiding his features.

You tried to not to think about when he'd last washed his hands.

"Oof, well what would you recommend?" Your friend prattled on, not a care in the world and completely unaware of the food poison no doubt waiting for them. "I'm open to anything."

The man grinned, shining yellowed teeth catching what little light there was available, as he whipped around. Your stomach rolled. The moment you were out of sight your treat was going into the trash.

"Here you go," he handed over two red swirled cones. "The Mr Freezy Special."

Your friend slapped some cash down and dove in, taking a huge gulp off the top of the soft serve and moaning. They gave you the eyes and waved their hand, unable to speak with how quickly they were eating. You took a lick of the cone, catching the melting bits running down your hand. The cream spread across your tongue, coating your gums in icy, tangy syrup while your eyes fluttered close. It… it was too good. Before you could stop yourself, you lapped at the swirled treat, sucking down as much as possible.

Pain pierced your chest, but you didn't stop. Even as you lost feeling in your limbs, eyelids so heavy you couldn't open them, you kept eating until all thought slipped from your grasp.

Moans woke you up, garbled wet sounds that drowned out the slurping and crunching. Bile rose in your throat as you rolled to your side, head reeling you tried to calm down. Everything ached, like you’d been run over by a truck then dragged for miles. You opened your eyes slowly, cautious of lights that would only make it worse and blinking away the haze. Tears rimmed your eyes as they tried to work, clear up your vision to see the dead eyes staring back at you.

Skin peeled away from the eye sockets, the person who lay next to you forced to watch what was happening to them. You squeezed your eyes closed, hoping if you opened them again you wouldn’t see the other’s. That you’d wake up in your bed. That you weren't lying next to who you thought it was. But that didn’t happen. The same eyes, starting to go cloudy, stared back. You forced yourself to look away, gaze unconsciously following the sounds until you found the source.

A monster drenched in blood, snarling and chomping away at their belly. You tried to inhale, to gasp at the sight, but every part of you froze. Your lungs refused to fill with air, your throat refused to open for the bile rising in your throat again, your tongue refused to utter a sound. A blood soaked reached up, the monster eyes never leaving it's meal, until it's fingers found the mouth. Your jaw snapped shut and yours closed on their own at the sound of flesh ripping, your brain kicking it into overdrive to keep you alive.

"What's a matter, cupcake?"

Your friend's voice filled your ears and sob ripped through you. It was all real, whatever was happening was real and you were going to die.

"Don't like th-" the voice cracked, growing deeper, "at do ya, huh? Cry all you want, fun's only just getting started."

It slapped you, a wet sticky hand collided with your cheek hard enough to bust your lip open. The taste of blood flooding your mouth, a whimper of pain and wet choking, it was pathetic but you were stuck, paralyzed by your own fear. You covered your face with your arms and curled your legs in tighter, ready for another blow, ready to defend, but not to attack.

"Please," you said, blood and saliva leaking from your busted lip.

There was a rustling, but you refused to look, it was better to not know what was about to happen to you. It yanked and pulled and shoved until you were forced on to your knees. A hand pinched your underarm until you dropped them, revealing your tear stained face.

"Open your eyes before I make ya."

You obeyed instantly, visions of your friend's shredded face coming making you sob more as you looked at your captor, at the monster who was going to kill you. He stood, taller and more muscular than what you remembered, over you in the same suit, now stained with blood and guts and God knew what else. His stringy hair was thicker now, still hanging down. Nothing about his teeth had changed though, that shade of yellow you'd never forget.

"Sometimes, you go with your gut." His thumb pressed into your split lip until you cried out in pain. He brought it to his face, nostrils flaring as he inhaled the scent and stuck the digit in this mouth. "Sometimes, your a stupid cunt. Guess we know which unlucky shit you are today."

You watched him remove his belt, the leather sliding through the loops of his trousers and wrapping around your throat. You watched his one blood dripping hand undo his pants, every tooth on the zip unclicking echoed around the room. You watched him stroke his cock until it was coated in blood too.

Resolutely you ground your teeth together, breathing harshly through your nose as adrenaline, fight or flight instinct, over came your fear. The belt cut into your neck but you refused to comply again. You looked at the hellish monster in his bright, icy eyes, and curled your lip sneer. Even as your lungs burned, your lips trembled with the effort to stay stiff, you refused to open your mouth. Spots started to float behind your eyes and another slap landed across your cheeks.

"You either use those dick sucking lips, cupcake, or I will."

The belt was yanked up into the air and then dropped, instinctively your mouth opened, gulping for air. He slammed his cock down your throat. You gagged, scrambled for some kind of leverage as you tried not to throw up. Your fingers dug into the blood stained pants, and he took that as an invitation, thrusting hard and faster. The taste of blood in your mouth only made you sicker, mixing with the overwhelming stench of death and rot. Tears fell freely down your face washing away lines of the drying blood.

"God, shit, you done this a lot? Your throat is trying to fucking milk me. How's your friend taste huh? They fought back a lot harder, got a bit messy."

You garbled out a sob, mucus bubbling out of your nose and mouth. He grinned down at you, yellow teeth looking sharper here, made for ripping and tearing away flesh. His hips stuttered, crushing your face into his crotch as he came down your throat. Just when you thought you'd pass out, he pulled his cock out of your mouth. Drool and blood and cum poured from your lips as you choked on the stale air. He groaned, smearing the mess around your face as you coughed around the belt still choking you.

"Don't worry, cupcake, I like it messy."

[letarasstuff]

Minimal Loss - Maximal Stress

(A/N): This was requested by an anon and plays in the intern universe. It’s based on 4x3 “Mininal Loss”. I didn’t follow the exact plot, but the quint essence is there (you’ll see what I mean). I hope you enjoy it.

Summary: An intern goes along on a seemingly undangerous case with Emily and Spencer on a ranch under the lead of Benjamin Cyrus. What could go possibly wrong (well, everything ig)?

Warnings: Mentions of child abuse, guns, vomit, swear words, ususal Criminal Mind stuff

Wordcount: 2.9k

✨Masterlist✨ ________________________________

“Do you guys really think it’s a good idea to bring a child to an interview about child abuse?” Agent Lunde asks skeptically while steering the car towards the ranch, where the allegions originated from.

“(Y/N) is our intern and we thought she has to make some experience in the field and since this is the most peaceful case you can find within the BAU, it’s her opportunity”, Emily defends the team’s decision.

“Also, she is nearly the same age as the girls, so it’s easier for them to open up to her and she is incredibly bright, meaning she can help us deducing a profile”, Spencer adds. The teenager doesn’t acknowledge anything they say, too engrossed in listening to One Direction over her bluetooth earbuds.

Soon the quartet arrives at the Saptarian ranch. “I’m looking for Benjamin Cyrus.” “You found him”, answers the man, who sits in front of a chapel.

“He really is nicely placed. I feel like I looked like this in my math classes. I was like beautiful decoration, but had no use”, (Y/N) whispers to Emily. She in turn has a look of confusion on her face. “You aced math, you graduated with an A+ in it.” “Just because I have good grades doesn’t mean I’m not stupid. I mean, I’m educated, but stoopid.”

A little later she sits across from a blonde girl named Jessica, asking her questions about the 911 call. Her mother continuously steps into that conversation.

“Jessica, can you tell me, if anyone here were ever touched inappropriately?” “Is this really necessary? You are a child yourself, shouldn’t ask one of the other agents the questions?” Slowly the teenager’s patience is wearing down and Spencer can definitely see that from five meters away.

“Ma’am, with all due respect, but I’m perfectly capable of conducting this interview, if you stop interrupting me. I may be young, which doesn’t stand in my way of being an intern for CPS and still knowing my way around, so please step to me colleagues or something and let me do my job.” Hesitantly the mother gives the two girls their space.

As soon as she is out of earshot, Jessica begins to explain. “Nobody is touched in a way they shouldn’t be touched. Or is it wrong for a wife to share a bed with her husband.”

(Y/N) remembers Emily telling her to not judge anything anyone of the girls will say. But damn it, this girl is really hard not to judge.

“Wait wait wait. Let me get this straight: You are simping for that walking quote machine?” Okay, maybe she is judging. But just a little bit.

“If simping means deeply in love then yes, I am simping for Benjamin Cyrus, my husband.” At this point the other three agents get closer again. “Jessica, the state of Colorado demands parental consent. You aren’t married to him unles-'' The black haired woman cuts the young doctor off. “She did give consent.”

(Y/N) can barely contain the unsurprised “surprised” gasp leaving her mouth. But it would have been cut short nonetheless, since sudden gunfire erupted outside the school building.

Fairly quickly everybody is evacuated through the tunnels. As Cyrus tells the cult members to trust in god, the teenager turns to the agents. “This much to it’s safe for me here. Didn’t anybody check for weapons or something?” Flabbergasted because of the whole situation Spencer answers. “Yes, Garcia checked with the authorities and nothing was suspicious.”

Suddenly Lunde takes all the courage she has (maybe because a teenager she brought into this is in immediate danger like all the other kids) and goes up with the cult leader to speak to the shooting law enforcement officers. Shortly after the other three get the message of her death.

But they don’t have any time to think about her, since they all are shoved into the chapel.

While Cyrus holds a speech about trust in god in dangerous and trying times like this the BAU in Quantico learns about the shooting through the tv news report.

“HOTCH”, Morgan yells up to the Unit Chief’s office, probably giving everybody else a heart attack. Alarmed Aaron storms out into the bullpen followed by Rossi, who is attracted by the tumult. “Aren’t Prentiss and Reid on that ranch?” Derek asks, his eyebrows furrowing in worry.

Squinting at the screen, horror etches on the other agent’s face. “(Y/N) is also there”, he says, realizing that they sent a minor with zero field experience into a lava hot situation.

Suddenly the whole bullpen’s phones ring, which results in Hotch barking his first commands.

After a nightflight to Colorado the team sets up at the crime scene.

“Dave, I was appointed to determine the primary negotiator”, Aaron tells him after he pulls him to the side. “It makes sense. I trained most of the people here, if you want me I can give you a few recommendations.” But the Unit Chief shakes his head. “No, I want you to be the negotiator in this.”

Now it’s Rossi’s turn to shake his head. “Aaron, I can’t do it, I’m too emotionally involved.” “So are all of us and why should I take the student if I can have the teacher?” The older one sighs in resignation and accepts the offer. They don’t have the team nor reccourses for any mistakes in this.

As he goes to prepare for his task at hand, Hotch hears a man complaining loudly. “I demand to talk to know why I wasn't told that the FBI was sending undercover agents into the Saptarian ranch?” “The only thing you are in position to demand is a lawyer”, he says while stepping closer to the scene.

“Who the hell are you?” The man spits out into his direction. “I’m Aaron Hotchner, Unit Chief. I’m the guy who is gonna tell the Attorney General of the United States whether to charge you with obstructing a federal investigation or negligent homicide.” “You can’t talk to me like that”.

Upon closing the little bit of space between both of them, Aaron stares him down. “Get off my crime scene.” Just a few seconds of the intense and pissed Hotch Stare are enough to chase that man down to his car and go on his way to Coward Island.

Meanwhile the first contact is made, Emily and Spencer tell (Y/N) in hushed voices what the situation means. “There are three groups here. The leader, in this case Cyrus. The hard die hard believers, the goons of him, and the followers”, Spencer explains.

“In a case like this we go for minimal loss. We try to get as many of the followers out as possible, because the rest won’t give up as long as they can breathe. At first we go with one or two people, children mostly, then with smaller groups and in the end we get out as many of these people we can. Soon, there will be the first supply delivery from our team, but it’s gonna be bugged, which means we know they are listening. Understood?” Emily adds.

Aside from the knowledge that there is a great possibility that they won’t come out alive of this one, (Y/N) is pretty calm. “Honestly, it’s pretty extra here. I mean I can’t even, look at the walls and the whole pseudo decoration. Why would anybody choose this willingly? But yeah, I understand.” Seeing that these phrases are a kind of a coping mechanism, the two agents aren’t too concerned about her right now. I mean, of course they are pretty much on edge because they all are in a hostage situation, but since the teenager doesn’t seem to be on the verge of a breakdown she has to be fine.

“Is there anything you want to know?” The black haired woman asks, stroking the younger one’s hair out of her face. “No, not right now. This is anything but basic, but I’ll hit you up if something shoots into my mind.”

When Rossi comes in to hand make the first delivery, he looks beyond worried. It seems like he got years older in the span of the last 24 hours. As he glances through the rows of people, he subtly acknowledges their presence and well being.

“How do we know this will be nothing like Waco?” (Y/N) asks out of the blue as all the members get a cup of wine. Surprised Emily turns towards her. “You know about Waco?” “Duh? I told you, I’m educated. So, how do we kno-” “And together we drank the poison.” “Oh well, I guess we do now. It’s nearly iconic how bad his acting is.” Now both of the agents look confused at her.

“What? Didn’t I tell you that I was a theater kid? Also, his goons are writing the reactions down, so it’s just a test to know who to separate from the group and who not.” Even in a situation like this a girl in a red and black flannel over a white graphic tee - it is a Doctor Who Tardis - astounds them.

Not long after this, the three of them are shoved into a small room, which looks sort of like an office.

“Which one of you is it?” Cyrus asks. Confused Prentiss, Reid and the intern look at him. When nobody speaks up he pulls out his gun. “One of you is an FBI agent. So who is it?”

In the short silence he points his weapon at (Y/N). “Oof. Dude, what the fu-” “She is a child. The FBI doesn’t recruit children. But she is a good leverage. So, if neither of you reveals their identity, I will blow her brain out.” This is the final point for the teenager to slowly freak out.

“It’s me. I’m the FBI agent”, Emily confesses. Seeing the young girl with panic in her eyes sets something off in her. Roughly she is taken away by two big guys.

“No no no! This can’t be right. Nobody of us is from the feds. It’s not her, you stupid piece of boom-” With a swift motion of his gun Cyrus knocks her out.

“Damn, this is an annoying one. I don’t know how you can even take her seriously.”

(Y/N) wakes up half an hour later in the chapel draped over two stools with her head in Spencer’s lap. He strokes her hair while his mind is running non stop looking for a solution to this situation. A groan tells him that she is awake.

“Hey, how are you feeling?” The young doctor asks in a soft voice. “If good means your head feels like it’s dancing samba without me, then I’m good.”

He smiles. “We are going to get out here, soon. I convinced Cyrus that we are on his side. He also won’t hurt Emily any further. I saw her earlier, he held a speech. She is fine, just a bit roughen up.”

To lie to the girl like that feels wrong to Reid, but he can see signs of a concussion by her behavior and doesn’t want to worry her more than she already is.

Three o’clock rolls closer and closer, which makes both of them more nervous. Because of the lack of communication they don’t know the tactic the team will use to come in. They can only hope that they all come out alive and in one piece.

Since they are in the chapel, their attention is solely on the cult leader. They don’t even notice all the women and children leaving. As (Y/N) and Spencer spot Cyrus with the remote for detonating the explosives, she mumbles “Let’s get this bread”.

When the leader sees Spencer trying to convince one of the die hard believers that he has a choice to change his mind, he punches the young doctor so hard in the gut that even (Y/N), whose vision is slightly blurred, feels the pain he endures.

“Hey Cyrus”, she calls out, “TBH I think all the shit you are doing here didn’t pass my vibe check. Also, the whole system is pretty whack.”

“You are a child, you don’t know anything. If god doesn’t want me to do any of this, he would stop me.” As Cyrus cocks his gun towards Spencer, Derek runs in and shoots him in the chest twice.

(Y/N) crosses her arms over her chest, says “Ok, Boomer” and rolls her eyes.

“Are you ok, princess?” Morgan asks, going over to her and examining the wound on the side of her head. “Never felt better now that there are two Derek Morgans to protect me.” Concerned he goes to say something else, but is cut short by Spencer shouting “RUN!”.

A look behind them shows Jessica short circuiting upon her husband’s death and grabbing the remote.

When the explosion erupts, Emily looks terrified at the remains of the chapel.

“Morgan! Reid! (Y/N)!” She shouts, followed by the other members and their calls after the three. A certain fear captures every single one of them. If only one of them is- No. Nobody can go through this thought. They are going to be fine. They are alive and-

“Thank god”, JJ breathes as she spots three limping figures. They slowly approach the group of four. “EMILY!” The teenager shouts relieved, though a little loud for the proximity between them. “SPENCER WOULDN’T REALLY TELL ME HOW YOU ARE! YOU LOOK TERRIBLE! THANK HARRY STYLES YOU ARE FINE!” Yes, the explosion definitely messed all of their hearings up, since Morgan and Reid also speak with the same volume.

Emily hugs her. “I’m okay. But you need to get checked out.” But the teenager vehemently shakes her head as she hugs Aaron. “I DON’T NEED TO”, when she sees her teammate’s faces, she reduces her loudness. “I am ok. But Spencer, he got a good blow to his guts. I think the Queen in England even felt that vibe check.”

As Derek escorted the young doctor to one of the awaiting ambulances, JJ also gently stirs the girl in the same direction. “Just let a doctor look over your head, it looks like a nasty cut and believe me, you want to get this checked out, Honey.” “But Jayje-” She begins to complain, but gets cut off by bile rising up her throat. In the next moment (Y/N) kneels on the floor, letting out anything she got in her system over the course of the past few days.

“I think this is nothing your body should do, Bambi”, Rossi adds up. Unwillingly the intern goes with the blonde mother to the EMTs. They decide to have a doctor looking over her and getting her x-rays done at the hospital.

A few hours and uncountable complaints from (Y/N) later, the team is back on the jet on their way home. She thanked Emily in a heartfelt moment in the hospital shortly after she got pain killers, which made her loopy, for saving her life by putting her own on the line by exposing her identity. Even Prentiss had tears in her eyes as she saw the young and innocent girl so frayed by the just occured events.

Unusual for Rossi, he takes a seat on the sofa, petting his lap as (Y/N) sits beside him. With pleasure she lays her head onto it, cuddling closer into the fuzzy blanket she got from Morgan.

A few minutes into the flight, Rossi just got into describing the interviews he conducted with Ted Bundy, Aaron motions him to make space. David excuses himself with the reasoning of getting a cup of tea for her.

“I’m sorry”, Hotch says as he runs his hands through his youngest employee’s hair. He is careful to not mess with the bandage she has on the side of her head. Confused (Y/N) looks up to him. “What for?” “For sending you into a situation, where you got seriously hurt.”

This makes the girl sit up, though her world once again begins to spin. “Aaron Hotchner, I hope you don’t mean that. You nor anybody else knew that this was going to happen. You only wanted for me to get as much experience as possible while this internship lasts and I tell you, with that story I’ll go viral on TikTok. Just because I got a medium severe concussion and a wound, which hopefully will leave a badass scar, doesn’t mean you have to apologize. But you can do me one favor.” “Anything.” “When I fall asleep, please make sure I don’t choke on my own vomit. The doctor told me it could happen, that’s why I am not allowed to fall asleep unsupervised. But I haven’t slept in three days and I think I'm beginning to feel uncomfy because of that.”

Smiling softly Hotch nods and lets the teenager take her original place in his lap. Minutes later she is fast asleep. But one thing is certain: As soon as she wakes up and feels any better, she is going to tell everybody who wants to listen about the one time where she got blown up by a fifteen years old girl, who was married to a cult leader. And nobody is gonna believe her tea. Except for Penelope, who greets (Y/N) with a hug and the promise to never let her out of her eyesight.

All works:

@agentshortstacc

Criminal Minds:

@averyhotchner @mggsprettygirl

Spencer Reid:

@calm-and-doctor

[creativeashproductions]

Hiking Buddy // Charlie Gillespie

Summary: Once upon a time you could joke that quaratine bordom was the cause of the mass amount of 2020 pregnancies. Well you could until you found yourself in the same boat...or shall we say crib?? Go on the journey as Y/N reveals the pregnancy to Charlie and later their friends.

Warnings: Swearing, talk of vomiting, pregnancy, and fluff.

Words: 2.5k

Requested: Yes. Anon

A/N: Someone asked for dad!Charlie and I couldn’t resist.

Please ask to be tagged in my inbox because I can’t promise you will be through commenting on the posts!

I take requests as well!

Masterlist

Pulled from deep in your chest was a groan at the dizziness rushing from the bedroom into the bathroom. The tile floor cool to the touch as your body was flush on the bathroom floor recovering from the bout of sickness. The fortunate thing about the pandemic was that you had no obligations taking you out of the home. Sitting up, you sat back against the white porcelain tub grimacing at the bitter aftertaste of your date with the toilet.

Slowly you found your grounding enough to shakily stand on two feet to brush your teeth to get rid of the nasty aftertaste. Your eyes found the pale expression of your reflection fading as nausea faded as well.

“This is tainting naps for me.” You muttered under your breath, washing your hands before proceeding to splash your face.

Your social media had been flooded with many people in your personal life and celebrities announcing pregnancies. You and Charlie often made teasing remarks about if people were so bored. Guess you couldn’t joke about it anymore.

Your hand splayed across the bare skin under the band shirt hanging loose on your form with a small smile. It had been a hectic year getting married to Charlie while filming the first season of Julie and the Phantoms. The plan had been to wait a few years to enjoy your careers and marriage before children. Get more established in the film industry as a woman was necessary, but you couldn’t get mad. This child would be a gift.

“I’d appreciate if I don’t have gross cravings okay? I have to put up with your dad’s questionable food combinations. I may throw up looking at it.” You muttered smiling at the smooth skin you couldn’t wait to grow into a bump.

At the beginning of the pandemic, you, along with Charlie, had flown back to Canada. Living outside of city limits, Charlie was able to still hike and meet up with family in a safe condition. You grew more as a couple as well.

Turning the light off in the bathroom, you made your way to slip your faux fur lined grey and burgundy moccasins—the mid-afternoon sun shining through the windows of the bedroom giving a picturesque view of the forest. Charlie was more than likely in the home gym you had thrown together once arriving at the home.

“I have an idea a little one.” You spoke to the little life you carried inside your womb. After the positive pregnancy and your confirmation with the OB/GYN, you had ordered a few items.

First, it was baby-sized pair of hiking boots to go with a forest green, that matched Charlie’s eyes, onesie with black lettering. The lettering saying ‘And so the Adventure Begins’. The background had with trees and mountains. As nature enthusiasts, you thought it would be perfect.

The box had arrived early this morning when Charlie had been in the shower giving you time to hide it. Now you just had to mention you wanted to go hiking with him.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Charlie spoke, kissing your forehead as he walked into the home. His first instinct to grab a snack after his workout, “How was your nap?”

“Energized me. Hey, are you too tired to go on a short hike?” You questioned filling a glass with water to hand to him. His smile was thanks enough as he tugged you to sit in his lap.

“We haven’t gone on one in quite a while. What brought it on?” Charlie asked, wrapping his arms around to finish his protein bar. His chin coming to rest of your shoulder familiarly; you relaxed into his chest.

“It’s a nice day. We’ve been cooped up in the house for a while. Just wanna get out.” You replied heart doing a flutter when his arms wrapped around your midsection.

“Let me get a few things,” Charlie spoke gently, pushing you up to the job to the spare bedroom. The closet kept the supplies you used for hikes, like the first aid kit that he started bringing after you cut your knee once.

As he collected the items, you quickly changed into clothing acceptable for the hike and shoving the things into the backpack. Slipping it on, you met your husband at the front door lacing up your boots. Charlie lifted the house keys in his hands before he tugged you outside, excited for the escape. His hand never leaving yours, you found the well-used trail you had explored countless times.

“Are you feeling better?” Charlie asked, swinging your hands together, refusing to release his grip. His eyes glancing over to catch your expression.

“I think I was overtired.” You replied, keeping your eyes on the trail looking for the rock you wanted to use.

Charlie’s phone was pulled out to make a short video.

“Get yourself a partner that suggests a hike before you.” Charlie slowed to press a kiss to your flushed cheek, “No but seriously. I’m incredibly lucky to have someone like my wife here.”

“Oh, shush.” You snickered as he intentionally pulled you to a stop to press kisses all over your face. His grin and his love would melt the hearts of his followers. Charlie returned the phone to his pocket as he hummed the melody to Unsaid Emily.

“Be right back.” Charlie spoke, squeezing your hand as he jogged to the forest, “I drank too much coffee this morning!”

You couldn’t help the laugh at his blunt words and his typical caffeine intake, but it gave you the perfect opportunity. Using the limited time, you were quick to place the onesie on the rock with the baby hiking boots near the shoulder. You had forgone on asking for a sonogram picture so you could share that moment with Charlie.

“I always forget to pee before we leave the house. Good thing we live near nature.” Charlie spoke jogging closer to where you were hiding the items behind you.

“Do you think green or mine?” You asked, bringing an expression of confusion on your husband’s face. He stepped closer halting when you stepped to the side, “I think yours. I love your eyes.”

Charlie was frozen entirely at the surprise you had planted in his short absence. He didn’t even notice he had moved until the soft cotton of the onesie brushed his fingertips. With his attention solely on the boots, he hadn’t seen you had a stepped up a camera to catch his reaction.

“Are those…?”

“They won’t need the boots in our arms, but I thought we could match.” You continued shifting with the camera to catch his wonder-filled gaze. His expression melted your heart as he gently caressed the side of the boot from his crouched position.

“We’re-“

“-getting a new hiking buddy.” You finished beaming as Charlie lunged you swing you in his arms, “Okay Char. I’d prefer not throwing up again.”

Charlie stumbled back glancing around the area, “I love how you surprised me, but what if you had fallen? I can’t have my loves hurt.”

 “Charlie. We’re on an easy trail, not Everest. I’m fine.” You deadpanned watching his cheeks flush at your response, “But I would like to get home. I’m so hungry.”

September 2020

Emma Roberts, Sasha Pieterse, Bindi Irwin, High School Music alumni Ashley Tisdale, and Hilary Duff were only a handful of celebrities welcoming babies. If hiding your marriage with Charlie was hard during filming, hiding the pregnancy was harder with your friends. Especially hitting seven months with a big bump concealed with camera angles.

You wanted to keep the news under wraps, so the media focused on the show, not your pregnancy at an early age. Of course, your friends were suspicious of Charlie’s posts and stories, not showing their favourite Gillespie. Carolynn knew just by the fullness of your face barely noticeable to the others.

“Oof.” You breathed wincing at the sharp kick to your ribs from Sprout. Charlie’s concerned gaze glancing over from his interview.

Swiftly rubbing the area, the kick happened your fingers returned to flip the page of the pregnancy book. You had grown used to the concern Charlie carried, he always had his phone fully charged on his hikes. Hikes you hadn’t taken since you surprised him with the little boots; it had been a disagreement, but you got where he was coming from.

“I’m fine, Charles.” You spoke, forcing him to turn his attention back to the closing interview. Once he turned the camera off, he rushed over to crouch in front of the couch, placing his hands on your stretched belly.

“Thought we had a deal Sprout.” He cooed caressing the band shirt covering your stretched skin, “Don’t hurt your mama.”

Your face twisted as the baby shifted, while you were enthralled by the fact you were carrying a child it felt like an alien. It was weird feeling something move inside and kick your damn inside like a fucking soccer ball.

“I can’t wait for the baby to be out.” You groaned, hiding the smile as Charlie’s lips pressed against your belly. You couldn’t wait to see him interact with his child.

“I say we name him Luke.” Charlie teased shifting you ahead so he could slide behind you in the usual position. His fingers immediately massaging your stiff shoulders and neck.

“I like Alex better. He’s the best Phantom.” You retorted reaching up to hold his hands, “Sensitive and his sarcasm? Immaculate.”

“We can table the options at a later time.” Charlie quickly replied chuckling as you moved position once more to rest against his chest. His fingers finding their way into your silky hair, pregnancy hormones had sped up hair growth.

“Hey-“ Your words fractured as your phone buzzed with a FaceTime request from Jeremy. Charlie quickly answered with a snicker as your response was cut off.

Jeremy’s eyes narrowed at the sight of you two on your couch, “My wife and I had drinks with our family. Carolynn slipped and told me something interesting.”

You and your husband froze as Carolynn sheepishly joined her husband in their white bedroom with a quick apology. Guess the cat was out of the bag.

“You guys are having a kid?” Jeremy asked, taking in the two actors he had quickly become good friends with during filming. His mind recalling a moment at his wedding when you guys had disappeared for a good twenty minutes.

March 2020

The Shada wedding had been gorgeous and like a dream to see someone you saw as a brother find his other half. Your hand was kept tight in your husband’s sitting among Owen, Tori and Kenny himself. Owen had snuck himself and Tori wine while Kenny turned his eye to the underage drinking.

“Wanna take a walk?” Charlie murmured in your ear as Jeremy and Carolynn made their way around their guests. His hot breath sending a chill down your spine as his left hand came to rest on your thigh.

The romantic atmosphere with the wine you had had during dinner lowered your inhibitions that you and Charlie snuck to the less used bathroom. You two quickly gave evidence that wedding hookups were very real. You managed to sneak back into the reception where dancing was taking place; a perfect story to why you and Charlie were a little dishevelled.

“Hey!” Owen called seeing you two join him on the floor. The wine had blinded his view of the very obvious couple, Owen knew from catching you two what a quickie appearance looked like.

“I think you’ve had enough to drink Bud.” Charlie spoke to the teenager as Jeremy made his way over to his friends, “Congrats Jer!”

“Thanks, man! When will we get the Gillespie wedding we didn’t get?” Jeremy called over the music beaming when his new wife plastered herself to Jeremy.

“Maybe in the next year.” You retorted twirling in Charlie’s arms thanks to the dance lessons of boot camp.

“Oh my god. Little Gillespie was conceived at our wedding.” Jeremy spoke, leaning back to his wife, “You’d be due in November, right?”

Your cheeks burned as Jeremy and Carolynn put the pieces together swiftly, “Well can we keep this a secret until October? I don’t want to take attention away from the show.”

“You should tell the others.” Jeremy suggested squeezing his wife’s hand, “They might think Charlie kidnapped a baby otherwise.”

Agreeing to announce to your friends Charlie had set up a video hangout with Owen, Mads, Savannah, Jeremy and even Kenny. It was in the later evening with the hiking boots out of shot and your shirt and belly below the camera view.

“Hey, guys!” Charlie greeted his friends as everyone entered the video, “Insane how many fan edits there are!”

“So cool!” Mads beamed addressing Kenny, “Thanks for giving me the chance to be involved in the coolest project.”

“You did all the work.” Kenny waved it off, taking in the cast of one of his favourite projects to date. You all meshed together so perfectly even if your character was only recurring like Sav.

“Hey, Kenny can we get your opinion on something?” You asked, gaining everyone’s attention and excitement after only using texting with the group. Morning sickness and fatigue had depleted your desire to be physically seen.

Kenny nodded, leading you to grab the baby hiking boots, “Do you think these are adequate enough to run from the witches?”

It was utterly silent as Charlie raised the little plaque he had ordered. The plaque included the Hocus Pocus witches in front of a cream moon, faces featureless other than eyebrows and lips. The corner had a cobweb with a little spider and just under it said ‘Winnie, I smell…a child’ with the pregnancy test snug in the cut out. Your favourite was the ‘it’s just a bunch of hocus pocus’ under the test.

“No way!” Owen screamed as all hell broke loose with the others. Charlie beamed at the sheer excitement on their faces.

“You’re having a baby?” Kenny murmured with a smile at the touching announcement and acting being involved.

“Charlie suggested the Hocus Pocus theme because we may have kept it to ourselves and our family?” Your voice went up a few octaves as the truth broke free.

“You haven’t had the kid, right?” Mads questioned peering in the background behind you finding nothing.

“Hopefully we have our hiking buddy in November on the due date. I don’t want to overdue, this kid weighs a ton.” You moaned snuggling into Charlie’s side, “We defin-“

“Jer’s wedding.” Owen interrupted with narrowed eyes, “You disappeared and came back with-“

“-O there is a child present.” Sav joked getting Mads to scoff at her, but everyone made a face as they recalled your disappearing act.

“Oh, your house must be filled with gross food combos. I hope the baby gets Y/N’s looks and taste buds.” Mads called hanging up before Charlie could retort at her. His eyes rolled, but the smile told another story, but slowly each of their friends said their goodbyes.

“At least Owen won’t go spilling the news to anyone.” You snorted playing your hand on Charlie’s large one splayed across your tummy.

You had a lot to thank Kenny for too. Without being cast by him, you wouldn’t have met your friends which in turn would mean you wouldn’t have been at Jer’s wedding. That would have been tragic since his marriage is the sole reason you had a child due in two months.

Tag List (PLEASE SEND AN INBOX TO BE ADDED! I CANNOT GUARANTEE YOU WILL BE ON THE LIST VIA POST COMMENTS!)

@safehavenmuse @siennanoelle01 @whiterose291 @mell-bell @blackhood5sos @ficrecsideblog @ifilwtmfc @deadpoolgirl23 @crappy-unicorn @sunsetcurve-h @elioelioeli0 @lovesanimals @popcrone818 @lolychu @deepsleepnat @tenaciousperfectionunknown @aunicornmademedoit @just-a-writer-here @simp4reggie @parkeret @faithiebrock01 @overlyhypedup @differentsoulrascalsalad @aesthetic-lyss @versaceapa @carleywhittaker @lostgirl219 @itsalexx21 @elllaoo4 @merxxleighann @mediocremunge @fantomlovesjuke4ever @dpaccione @oswin05 @kaylinfayezink @aberette13 @faithie-brock-gillespie01 @eharvey0218 @overlyhypedup @benstormy @auriandthepussicats @sarcasticsagittarius1998 @whothefuckstolemykeds  @siriuswvrld​ @princessvader15​ @xoxbloodreinaxox @heimdoodle​ @joshy-obx​ @lovesanimals​ @oopsiedoopsie23​ @am3l1a-24 @flying-solo-without-you​ @jaskiers-sweetkiss​ @lostrandomfangirl​n @must-be-a-weasley-92​ @jatp-holland​ @ilikealotofpeople-younotsomuch @dxlanhxlland​ @dasexydevitt13​ @ifilwtmfc @arianagrandes-things @kinda-really-lost​ @marinettepotterandplagg​​ @ssprayberrythings​​ @morgandamrose @thedarkqueenofavalon​ @zukoshonourr​ @crybabyddl @spooky-season-bitch​ @kcd15​ @morganayennefertyrell @magnet-girl​ @all-in-fangirl​

[chewiedon]

HOME | SHINAZUGAWA S.

im still trying to find a consistent layout, I’m still working on requests from wattpad and Tumblr, but there's good shit on the way so stay tuned >:) ALSO TYSM FOR ALL THE SUPPORT!!

request: “(y/n) is really close to sanemi, and during a hashira get together he gets drunk and in a fight with giyuu. (y/n) breaks up the fight and calms sanemi down, shinobu teases her the next morning.”

“Waa! Drinks for everyone, it’s all on me!” The sound hashira’s voice was booming throughout the bar, following a very loud laugh and cheering from his intoxicated coworkers.

“My! Do you even have enough money, Uzui?” A sweet voice piped up once the clamoring had died down, an empty smile on her face.

“Obviously I do, Kocho darling you doubt me too much!” The large man had insisted, his smile turning into a playful scowl as he slapped her on the back.

She let off a small “Oof,” before giving up.

Another sweet voice had been heard, “Speaking of darling, where is (Y/N)? I was so sure she’d be here, she was so excited about this get together too,” She put a finger to her chin in some kind of ponder.

“What the fuck do you mean (Y/N) isn’t here? Speak the fuck up Kanroji!” A much rougher voice interrupted the atmosphere, the Wind Hashira wore a viscous scowl across his face. His aggression seemed to have risen with the amount of alcohol in his body.

“I saw her when we got here, but I don’t think I’ve seen her since,” The water hashira, Giyuu had commented, making Sanemi’s blood boil even more.

“The fuck you watching (Y/N) for? She can take care of herself just damn fine without your fucking help, you’re useless be your damn self anyways!” His body looked as if he was on fire, the unnecessary aggression only seemed to rise more and more.

With a click of his tongue, Sanemi sat back down and continued to sip the beverage that he had as the ruckus continued around him. (Y/N) was the only person in the entire Demon Slayer Corps, maybe the population of humanity itself he trusted. She was a beauty no doubt, but that wasn’t what captured the hothead’s eyes. It might’ve been her soft voice or the way her hands would run through his hair, but he couldn’t seem to get enough of the girl. The only thing that got in the way of him embracing those feelings was his wall of pride, and his past experiences with other people. He couldn’t rely on anybody, he refused to rely on (Y/N) too, but he promised to enjoy her company as long as he could. Until God took her away from him. An entire hour passed, and things began to get quieter. And a certain man’s fuse only became shorter and shorter.

Chatter was around the table, but one particular sentence sent him ablaze, “Hey, you don’t think some nasty people got a hold of (Y/N), right? That would be really bad,” A snap could almost be heard from the way Sanemi’s fist almost crushed the lip of the low table they sat at.

“Keep her name of your filthy fucking mouths! Who do you guys think you are, talking about her like she’s some kind of object?!” He didn’t stand up, but he slammed his hand on to the table, voice booming throughout the entire place. The fact that Giyuu piped up next didn’t calm his intense rage.

“Nobody said she was an object, we just hoped she didn’t have a bad run in with anybody.” He said, brows furrowed at the aggression that was directed towards him.

A smirk contorted on to Sanemi’s face, his cheeks glowing with red. “You seem real confident today, Tomioka. Are you trying to start something?” His words were slurred, but not too much it wasn’t able to understand.

Giyuu’s patience and tolerance was running short, but he managed to control his anger, “Nobody wants to fight you, small dogs shouldn’t yap so loud.”

That last comment completely changed the table, literally. Giyuu’s face was smashed into the wooden low table by Sanemi, leaving the table's center in bits and pieces. Everyone around them were dead silent, nobody even bothered lifting a finger to say anything.

“The fuck did you say? Say it again, I dare you,” Sanemi’s ego was through the sky.

Giyuu raised himself from where his face was busted into the table, a trail of blood coming out of his nose. He stood up, positioning himself on his shaky legs.

“I said,” He started, “Small dogs shouldn’t yap so loud.”

From a logical standpoint, Giyuu’s comment didn’t make any sense. Sanemi was one of the tallest people in the room, taller than Giyuu. However, both of these men were emotional and intoxicated as shit. So the things they say don’t make sense, and they don’t have to. Sanemi’s fist was thrown into the air, but it didn’t even reach the man he wanted to hit. Giyuu took the opportunity to strike the hothead right in the stomach, making him stagger backwards while his insides began to tremble. A drunken crowd around them cheered and egged the two on.

“What the hell is going on?” A feminine voice sounded throughout the room, both men ignored it. The light chatter that filled the room seemed to outrule her voice.

Uzui tensed up, “Oh, (Y/N) where have you been-”

“Shut your trap,” Her voice was harsh, which was something rare.

Sanemi stood up quick, his stun pushed aside as he made way to tackle Giyuu entirely. His blood boiled with rage, but his entire body seemed to be stopped midair as soon as a certain girl came into view. He tripped over himself entirely, his nose at (Y/N)’s feet.

“(Y/N)!” Giyuu exclaimed, Sanemi was left completely speechless as he peered up at her form.

She put her hands on her hips while turning towards the ravenette with fierce ice behind her gaze, “You out of all people, were the least person I’d expect to act so childish. Last time I checked you weren’t a hormonal teenager, please act your age,” Her voice was chilling.

All of the chatter among the restaurant ceased completely, all eyes were on the trio. (Y/N)’s gaze then drifted to the man that laid at the bottom of her feet, Sanemi sat upwards while his face was flushed with embarrassment. He embarrassed himself in front of a whole crowd of people, not to mention he embarrassed himself in front of her. Sanemi did nothing but admire (Y/N), you could almost hear his pride swan diving off a cliff. She did nothing but gaze softly at the poor man and headed outside.

“Someone clean this shit up,” Her chilling voice froze the room up before she officially exited.

The sound of the front door slamming made everyone flinch, before most of the bystanders started continuing as they usually did. The waitresses had helped the hashira’s cleaned, while Sanemi remained in the same position on the floor. Should he try to defend himself, or should he let it be? He’s drunk, so that’s a reasonable excuse, right? The snow haired man managed on his feet, running outside with adrenaline coursing through his body while he was completely driven by impulse. And it all pulled to her. (Y/N). The only name that was going through his head, her figure was visible as it walked into the street.

“(Y/N)!” He yelled, but what was he supposed to say? How was he supposed to ‘redeem himself’ in front of the person he admired the most?

She let out a small hum, signalling that he had her attention. “Can we talk (Y/N)? Please,” Sanemi’s voice was higher than normal, as if it was cracked and hoarse.

Why was he so stressed in the first place? His head began to pound as his stomach twisted at all the sudden movement. The contents of his stomach spilled onto the street, soft grunts came from him as he vomited his lunch. He spent the next few moments hung over his knees, panting like hell. (Y/N) had put a hand on his back.

“Are you okay? I’m sorry if I seemed a little scary back there, I lost my cool,” As soon as their gazes had met, the same warm feeling flooded inside the hot head’s chest. His eyes felt glossy.

“Beautiful,” He muttered, reaching out to touch the girl’s cheek, “You’re so beautiful.”

It might’ve been that alcohol still flowing within his veins, but he’ll never forget the feeling he felt with her that night, that nostalgic feeling he hasn’t felt since his family died. The feeling of home.

The rest of that night was a blur, but (Y/N) had spent the next day at the Butterfly Estate, laughing at all the hashira’s who were cursed with nasty hangover’s. Shinobu almost joined in on the fun, making fun of Giyuu for getting in a fight despite him hardly remembering it.

“I got in a fight?” Giyuu said, pointing to himself in disbelief.

“Yes, and (Y/N) had to tame the Shinazugawa beast and save you, she’s the reason you don’t have a broken nose you know,” Shinobu said matter of factly.

“Why are you saying that as if I’m some fantasy heroine? All I did was shit talk him and lure Sanemi outside,” (Y/N) stated, her cheeks beginning to heat up at the mention of the occasion.

“Yeah, and what happened after that?” Shinobu asked, innocently teasing her.

“Nothing!”

[marvelslut16]

Prank gone wrong

Prompt number: 19 “I can’t do this anymore”

Fandom: It

Paring: Richie Tozier x reader (aged up to 17 or 18)

Rating: T

Word count: 2.6k (this was supposed to be short!)

Warnings: Swearing. Bullying. Mentions of domestic abuse/domestic violence- nothing graphic. asshole Richie. Angst but ends fluffy

A/N: Oof I’ve been gone for ages, I’m sorry guys. But here’s day one of fictober, so hopefully I’ll be able to keep up and this will motivate me to write regularly again. I’m not sure if I love this one or not. I liked the idea when I started and then it took some turns and this is what I ended up with while writing between zoom classes, so sorry if it sucks. I added the second gif cause it’s closer to the age in the story. 

It all started as a stupid prank, a way to get back at Greta for years and years of torture, you never thought it would end in you losing a friend. Just over three months ago Richie agreed to Bev’s plan, take Greta out on a few dates and then publicly humiliate her- give her a taste of her own medicine. But to everyone's surprise, it lasted way longer than a few dates and there was no end in sight. Worst of all it seemed that Richie was actually falling for her- he would defend her any chance he got and even started ditching the losers to spend time with her and her friends. 

It was no surprise to you that Greta fell for Richie, he’s funny, sweet, and he’s aged well. His head has grown into his coke bottle glasses, he still wears hawian shirts but now he has a leather jacket over them constantly- a leather jacket that the two of you picked out together. There is no better than one Richie Tozier, and your feelings are getting harder and harder to deny. Your crush on the trashmouth developed back in middle school- the summer Pennywise reigned terror, but through the years your crush turned into something stronger- by senior year you knew you loved him. Halfway into said school year every loser, besides Richie of course, knew of your feelings for him. The pitied glances they would send your way were almost suffocating. 

Richie is late to lunch yet again, probably making out with Greta in the hallway, so each of you are using this time to talk about the personal hell her and her friends have created for each of you today. You go last, quickly giving them a rundown of your encounter with her in the bathroom, where she threatened you to stay away from ‘her Richie’ and that you would live to regret it if you didn’t. She even ripped one of your textbooks out of your hands, dropping it into the disgusting toilet water- calling you a worthless slut on her way out. 

“Greta is such a bitch!” you complain to your friends, mindlessly pushing around the mush they call lunch at Derry high with the cheap plastic spork they provide. 

“I’d prefer if you didn’t talk about my girlfriend that way,” Richie’s voice is calm and even- lacking the normal excitement and joking lilt to it. Your eyes widen in horror at him having heard you, then they narrow at how genuine his defense of her is. 

“Richie, c’mon, let it go,” Eddie pleads, glancing between your shocked and hurt face and Richie’s angry one. 

“No Eddie, I’m so sick of (Y/N) talking shit about my girlfriend!” you whip around in your seat and look at him in shock. 

“Richie what the hell?” you rise out of your seat so he won’t look down on you literally and figuratively anymore. He cocks his eyebrow, head dropping to the side as he crosses his arms and lets out a huff of annoyance. “Ya know what? I can’t do this anymore!”

“Do what anymore?” Richie doesn’t drop the cocky attitude, making the next words out of your mouth slightly less painful. 

“Be your friend,” there’s a collective gasp from your friends. Richie’s face morphs into shock and sadness for a split second before hardening and sending you another glare. “Not when you’re dating her. She’s changing you Richie!” 

“Greta was right about you, you are a bitch,” your breath catches in your throat and you fight the tears that well up in your eyes. Richie’s glare is unflinching as you stare him in the eye, a tell-tale sign that he doesn’t regret a single word that he said. The murmuring from the table behind you stops the moment the words leave his mouth, they all stare at their friend in shock. 

“Fine, then you’ll never have to deal with this bitch again,” you spin around and grab your backpack and lunch tray. “Fuck you Richard Tozier!” you dump your tray of mush into the trach on your way out of the cafeteria nad away from that stupid boy you somehow fell for. 

“What did you just do?” Stan is the first one to regain the use of his voice, he’s glaring at Richie as the boy takes your recently vacated seat. 

“I’m sick of her attitude towards Greta,” he tries to defend, shocked when all of his friends level him with matching glares. 

“W-wh-what h-ha-ha-happen-ned to th-he pr-pr-prank-k?” Bill’s recently improved stuttering growing worse as he grows anxious at the turn of events between his friends. 

“Greta isn’t the bad one here, we’ve been rude to her all of these years!” Richie once again tries to effectively defend his girlfriend.

“She wrote loser on my cast!” Eddie practically screeches before he goes into an anxiety attack, beleving it’s an asthma attack he takes two puffs from his inhaler.

“Her and her friends dumped wet garbage on me,” Bev adds, quieter than Eddie. 

“That was in middle school,” Richie rolls his eyes, leaning back in his seat. 

“I thought you were in love with (Y/N) before the whole prank, that you did it to get over her,” Eddie says slowly this time, having calmed down from moments prior. 

“Greta helped me realize I never loved (Y/N), I was doing what was expected after years of friendship,” the losers stare at him- open mouthed and gaping at Richie’s stupidity. 

“She attacked (Y/N) in the bathroom this morning,” Mike tries to reason with his brainwashed friend. 

“No, (Y/N) was lying to you guys. She attacked Greta earlier, not the other way around. She screamed at Greta to break up with me or she’d regret it, and then dumped her books in the toilet and called her slut.”

“Greta did that to (Y/N), you dumbass!” Bev grows increasingly angry, at Richie and herself for coming up with the stupid prank. “I was in there with her, Greta’s convinced (Y/N)’s in love with you so she wants to rip you apart. Do you honestly believe (Y/N) would do something like that?”

“Shit!” Richie slams his fists on the table, causing most of the cafeteria to turn and looking at him briefly before going back to their individual tasks. Everything Greta had blamed on you in the past three months comes rushing back and he realizes that they’re all out of character but in character for Greta. Somewhere along the way he convinced himself that Greta was telling the truth so he had a reason to stop being in love with his best friend- he was too scared to tell you because you’re the only person that could actually hurt him. 

“(Y/N) (L/N) to the principal's office immediately,” the voiceover the intercom cracks showing the age of the ancient system. 

“Richie?” Stan isn’t sure he wants to know the truth as he asks the question. 

“I told Greta to tell the principal,” his voice is oddly quiet and broken, definitely out of character for the jokester trashmouth. 

“You fucking idiot!” Bev seethes, staring Richie down. They’re the only two that know the truth about your father. 

--

You quickly get up from your place in the library and walk down the empty halls to get to the principal's office. Once you arrive the secretary gives you a dirty look, causing you to sink back and the pit of anxiety in your gut to grow. Greta sends you a triumphant smirk before going back to fake sobbing as she walks out of the principal's office and past you. 

You feel like you're going to vomit as you walk into the principal's office behind him, the look on his face says you’ll get after school detention for at least a week! Whatever lies Greta told about you are clearly being believed by him and the secretary. 

“You’re a good student Miss. (L/N), so why have you been harassing Miss. Keene?” he crosses his arms over his chest, they rest lightly on top of his bulging gut. 

“I haven’t-” you try to defend, but he puts up a hand to stop you. 

“She alleges it’s because you have feelings for her boyfriend Mr. Tozier and you’re upset that she chose her over you.”

“That’s not true-” his glare cuts you off this time. 

“Today alone you threw her books in the toilet, threatened her for being with Richie, and called her a slut,” the words today alone stand out to you, how many lies did she tell? 

“She did that to me! Not the other way around!” you try desperately for him to believe you. 

“Then why didn’t you come to me?” he raises a brow much like Richie did in the  cafeteria, Greta has both of them wrapped around her finger and against you. 

“Because no ones ever done anything! She’s been torturing me since we were in grade school and she’s never got in trouble! A freshman came to you last week saying Greta was bullying her and you didn’t do anything!”

“I’m afraid I’ll have to suspend you for the rest of the week.” he says firmly, no room for negotiation or pleading. 

“That’s four days!” you cry out incredulously.

“Do you want to make it longer?” when you don’t respond he continues talking. “Your father is on his way, go get your books from your locker and leave school property.” 

You hear someone call your name from down the hall as you grab all of your textbooks from your locker, trying to shove all five thick books into your bag. You ignore the voice up until it’s right next to you and you realize it’s Richie trying to plead for forgiveness. 

“Lose my number, and while you’re at it forget my name. Stay the fuck away from me Tozier!” Your outburst grabs the attention of the other students walking to their next class, everyone shocked by the inseparable duo of Tozier and (L/N) fighting. You slam your locker shut with a loud bang, heading for the door and away from him calling your name.

--

Monday comes agonizingly slowly, but when it does you're sitting with Bev in the bathroom during third period, both of you telling your teachers you don’t feel good. 

“How bad was it?” she flicks her lighter and lights her cigarette, standing next to the window so she can blow the smoke outside. 

“Worse than it's ever been,” you feel ghost pains on your back from where your dad's leather belt met your flesh for the past six days. “Since Richie didn’t sneak in to help clean them this time I think I may have an infection.”

“He broke up with Greta,” Bev changes the subject, she knows you only trust Richie enough to see the damage your father inflicts, so she doesn’t bother to ask to check on it.” 

“Good for him,” you stare down at the gross linoleum tile under your beat up Chuck Taylor’s. Richie had promised to take you away from your father the moment you two graduated, he’d been promising it for years, even while he was with Greta, but now you aren’t holding out hope for the promise. 

“He’s been miserable without you,” the bell signaling the end of the period saves you from formulating an answer. Bev quickly flushes her cigarette butt and the two of you head to the cafeteria, you’re a little worried about sitting with the losers after your fight with Richie. Bev grabs your hand and gently pulls you to the table when she notices your hesitance. You catch up with the rest of the losers, minus Richie who isn’t in the lunchroom which you’re oddly sad about, finding out about tests and break ups you missed while you were suspended. The loud ear splitting sound of feedback causes the entire cafeteria to cover their ears and look to the microphone stand in the front of the room. Richie is standing in the front holding the microphone, cringing slightly at the loud sound. No lunch ladies run to grab the microphone from him, meaning he got permission to do whatever it is he’s about to do. His wild curls bounce as he nervously shifts from foot to foot as he looks around the cafeteria until he locks eyes with you. You can’t look away from him so you miss the smiles the losers give each other and the high five Bev and Ben share. 

“(Y/N) I don’t know what I could ever say to you to get you to forgive me, I can never forgive myself for hurting you,” he talks into the microphone, everyone looking between the two of you, but neither of you seem to notice anyone but each other. “I know I embarrassed you, so maybe if I embarrass myself in front of everyone you’ll forgive me a little bit. (Y/N), I never meant to hurt you, I only agreed to the prank because I wanted to forget you. No- fuck that doesn’t sound right.

“I’ve been in love with you since middle school and I knew you could never love me too, even when Ed’s told me you did I couldn’t believe it. I wanted to forget my feelings for you because I never wanted to hurt you, so I agreed to the prank. But I hurt you anyway because I let Greta get in my head, so I even failed the damn prank. But I love you so fucking much (Y/N) and I’m sick of running from these damn feelings. All I want to do is take you away from this hellhole after we graduate, and go to NYU together like we’ve planned since Freshman year. I love you (Y/N) (L/N), and I’ll spend the rest of my life apologizing to you about how shitty I was if you give me a second chance.” 

Your body stands up on autopilot, and you don’t realize you’re walking towards him until your face to face. Lifting your hand you gently push a curl that fell in front of his eye away and tuck it behind his ear, he leans his head into your hand as a lunch lady comes and takes the microphone out his hand grinning largely at teen love. You struggle to find words, so you wrap both your hands around the lapels of his leather jacket and pull him into a kiss. It isn’t your first kiss, Bill had dared you two to kiss sophomore year in a game of truth or dare in the barrens, but this kiss is different. These aren't two kids afraid of the adult feelings that were overcoming them, these are two almost adults finally giving into the most powerful and amazing feeling in existence. Richie makes sure to keep his hands away from your back, he’ll clean out your cuts later, instead he tangles his fingers into your hair pulling you in deeper. Before the kiss can go too far you pull back giggling as Richie follows your face trying to kiss you again. 

“I love you too,” you rest your forehead on his, turning your giggling face into a mock serious one. “But you’re on thin ice mister.” 

“I love you more,” he caresses your cheek and you grin happily, laughing at his antics when he starts speaking again. “Than I love Eddie’s mom.” the entire cafeteria is whooping and hollering at your kiss, but non louder than your losers. Well, everyone except Greta, who lets out a high pitched huff and storms out of the cafeteria. 

“I think the prank ended up working out,” you giggle, lightly nipping at Richie’s thumb as it grazes over your lower lip.

Permanent tags: @crimson-knuckled-queen​ @rexorangecouny​

[adarlingmess]

Surprise, the Last Boss x OC brainrot hasn’t left me yet!

I’m still knee-deep in academic work but I took a much needed break and tried my improved inking and coloring style on these two’s portraits before I apply it to my thesis output oof

anyway if anyone wants to read me word vomit about my thoughts about these two, it’s all under the cut

26 cm/10 inch height difference. Last Boss is taller, but Yamaneko’s muscles are denser.

I kind of based Last Boss’ age on his actor’s, and judging from his manga appearance and his mother’s appearance, I think we’re within the correct range. Yamaneko’s born March 3, 1998, so that makes her 23 during the events of the game.

Neither uses conventional pet names. Last Boss was the one to give Yamaneko her nickname/moniker, but everyone else uses it now, so it doesn’t count. Yamaneko affectionately calls Takatora “tiger” or shortens his name to “Tora” only when no one is around.

Being militants, they have a reputation to protect, so neither really engages in PDA much. Last Boss is a quiet man, so he prefers letting his lover physically feel his affection instead, but he will respond to “I love you”.

Oh boy. He’s just quiet about it, but Takatora can be quite the jealous monster. My headcanon is his jealous tendencies stem from the fact that he felt unworthy of human interaction in the past, and Yamaneko’s one of the few people who interacts with him. When jealous, he needs to be reassured and often physically. Yamaneko is more secure in their relationship, but when she gets jealous, she’ll need some space to think things through and avoid saying anything that might hurt him.

Between the two of them, Yamaneko is more chill because she knows how capable her lover is in the games, and oftentimes, she’d head to the meeting room after games because she knows she’ll see Last Boss among the executives. On the other hand, Last Boss worries about her in the games, especially when she’s separated from the group and he couldn’t protect her. Expect him to seek her out immediately after a game. As much as possible, he wants to stay by her side at all times, like a second shadow.

Yamaneko was forced to confess to him in a Heart game and asks him to kiss her after the game.

Yamaneko is first to say both daisuki and aishiteru, but it takes some time for her to use the “heavier” I love you. And the situation is heavy for her to use it too.

Like what’s mentioned above, Last Boss is more worried about his lover than she is for him. Aside from the games, he’s worried about Yamaneko disappearing from his life. Even though she had expressed the desire to stay in the Borderland, she hasn’t completely turned her back from her fashion design dream, and he doesn’t know what to do if she’s given the opportunity to trade her life now for the one that she always wanted.

As someone who was kicked out at 18 and had to enter the workforce early, Yamaneko budgeted her meager salary well enough for her to rent out a studio apartment by the time she was 20. Her major in college before she got expelled for intentionally flunking it was Business Administration too, and she remembers some of what she learned. Conversely, Last Boss was coddled by his mother and is sheltered, so he doesn’t know jack shit about finances. In the Borderland, money doesn’t matter, but Yamaneko still fares better, having the initiative to stock up on goods like food, water, and fuel, while Last Boss mostly floundered about before being invited to the Beach.

I headcanon Last Boss to be a virgin, tbh. He’s that isolated from other people. Meanwhile, Yamaneko was a maneater in high school, and is definitely far more experienced. When she was disowned at 18, she had to do some shady things to survive too, including compensated dating.

Yamaneko is a deeper sleeper and is the type of person who needs more than 8 hours of sleep to feel well-rested so she tends to wake up later. Last Boss is skinnier and tends to get cold easy, so he hoards blankets when they’re available.

Even in the Borderland where he’s known as a menacing entity, Last Boss is still a shy and quiet man. Yamaneko becomes a chatterbox when she’s comfortable with the person she’s speaking to.

As mentioned above, Yamaneko had to fend for herself since 18, while Last Boss was coddled as hell, so it takes some time for him to be useful in the kitchen. It doesn’t bother Yamaneko though.

It’s not that Last Boss doesn’t know how to apologize when he’s in the wrong, he doesn’t know how to use his words. Yamaneko breathed the word “sorry” on a daily basis in her difficult upbringing, so she apologized for the most minor transgressions, perceived or real, and it bled to her romantic/sexual relationships.

heehee Last Boss ticklish

I’m a Deftones fan I’m sorry that their songs are all from the band lmfao

Entombed is their main song and describes the general progression of their relationship. Key Lyrics: From the day you arrived / I've remained on your side / In chains, entombed.

Beauty School is more about the physical aspect of their relationship. Sex is one of the few times they allow themselves to be vulnerable. Key Lyrics: I like you when / When you take off your face / Put away all your teeth / And take us way underneath 

Rosemary reflects how their relationship is influenced by the Borderland. They’re both lonely souls, albeit in different ways, and the Borderland is a means of an escape to them. Now, they’re fulfilling their escapist tendencies together, and neither wants to leave each other or the new world they’re in. Key Lyrics: Stay with me / As we cross the empty skies / Come sail with me / We play in dreams / As we cross through space and time / Just stay with me

Sidenote: Last Boss’ appearance here is different from his Netflix depiction as an attempt to reconcile it with his manga design, and I added some new tattoos as seen in my other post

[omegawolverine]

Plesse tell me about queerness in the get down!!

okay okay queerness in the get down let's fuckn goooo

disclaimer: I havent watched this show in full for like 5 months at least, probably gonna get something wrong and/or forget some more important bits. also this wasnt proof read I just word vomited

tws: period typical homophobia, abuse mention, f slur use, bury your gays trope, overdose mention, mention of a creepy possible age gap (the age gap hasnt been confirmed so that's why its possible), cops

going from least to most prominent queer characters, let's start with mylene cruz!

so, from the beginning of this show she has an established romantic relationship with ezekiel (although the status of their actual relationship changes frequently throughout the show) and though this was a relationship she was hesitant to pursue, it is clear that she does have romantic feelings for him and if not for them both having growing careers in very different music genres (zeke specifically working in a genre that she repeatedly labels as bad because she thinks they're ruining records + that it isnt real music because they're using someone elses piece and rapping over it, that's not really important here tho lol) they probably wouldve had a much healthier, smooth sailing romance. that being said theres a few things that happen in the show that, while not explicitly clear, or even really good coding at that—to the point where you wont catch if you really arent looking for it (and trust me, I always look for coding, hers was just so little that it flew over my head until I saw someone else mention it)—are still cool to think about!

so, for starters, I wanna mention the toy box performance, which was performed by mylene and regina, who are best friends. that's all cool and shit, and you dont really think much about it...until you hear about the fact that the show runners purposely colored a lot of the scenes in that performance with the bi colors. like. the writers after the show ended basically said "oh yeah there was plans to make her coding more explicit, but our shit got cancelled soooo" and then dropped the fact that she was gonna be bi (or at least implies bi) in the series, which puts a new twist on a few things.

now, besides the bi coloring in the background of the toy box performance (which was mostly on scenes with her and regina, which involved a lot of uh,, lowkey lewd dancing. with each other. in very revealing outfits. wooooo), there's her music! I dont tend to read too much into this one bc, like I said before, her coding is fucking light and the writers themselves said they didnt really get to do much with it, but I think some stuff with her music is interesting. specifically how her, yolanda and regina's song set me free blew up because dizzee, resident (lowkey enby coded) bicon, got their song played in a queer club. also that the song was majorly important to dizzee and started playing literally right as he kissed a boy for the first time and realized "oh shit I like boys that's bonkers". also that the song can be taken in a gay way since literally the entire thing is about becoming your true self, fully and unapologetically, which is what both dizzee and mylene's entire character arcs are about. dizzee (and a lot of other queer people, apparently), heard this song about being set free and it resonated with them so much that they got that shit most of its popularity.

speaking of dizzee and mylene, they parallel each other a lot in the way that their arcs are about them realizing who they are, coming into themselves and no longer just letting people treat them like shit in a sense (dizzee starting to tell people essentially that they can call him weird all they want, they can make fun of how he acts, what he likes, how he dresses, etc. but he likes how he is and quite literally saying "it's okay to be an alien" as he has consistently compared himself to one throughout the show vs mylene learning that if she wants to be a disco singer she needs to put her foot down, not let anyone, not even the love of her life, not even her abusive father, stop her from achieving her dreams, etc. and continuing to pursue her career with or without their support). one more little parallel that I think is interesting is during I think s2 towards the end of the show is when dizzee and thor are shown together having fun with each other, painting all over the building and each other and are basically just being happy and in love together and then they have these clips of them being interspersed with clips of mylene at a party where she is starting to realize that if she wants to get anywhere she needs to be her own main priority and that she needs to put her career and her dream, which is what makes her the happiest, above all else if she wants to succeed. idk I just think how the show made these two into a weird parallel, accidental or not, is neat. maybe not an explicitly queer parallel, but I think at least how her music and whatnot helped dizzee, the main queer character in this show, blossom, is important.

moving on we got shaolin fantastic also known as "oh no your internalized homophobia is showing-"

so, heres a quick list of...interesting shao facts:

Consistently referred to as fag/faggot (shaolin fanfaggot is my personal favorite); he gets really defensive about this despite nobody actually thinking he's queer, it's just people being assholes to be assholes, and he is the only character consistently referred to using a slur, especially a homophobic one, especially for a "straight" character. dizzee, a canonically queer character, is called a fag less than shaolin is even though dizzee actively goes to gay clubs, has a not so secret dude he "hangs out with" and wont let anyone properly meet, paints his nails, wears less than straight clothes even by the 70s standards and is just all around the definition of fucking queer (and I mean like in the weird way, not the gay way). in fact theres only like once I can remember him being called a fag and it had nothing to do with him actually being gay it was literally just like thrown out there the same way you would call someone a bitch.

Has only shown sexual interest in women, yet refuses to have deeper relationships with women in general (possibly because of trauma but who knows) but takes his relationships with his "brothers", specifically zeke, very seriously

Tells zeke and zeke ONLY his real name when zeke was planning to stop being his friend bc shao more or less got boo boo, a like 14 year old black kid, arrested for selling hard drugs; he was clearly scared and trying to do anything to keep zeke around, literally chasing him down the street and hounding him until he got zeke to stop and argue with him

Kept threatening to beat up zeke in the end but couldn't actually bring himself to do so, instead saying that zeke is "fucking lucky" before walking away

Let's zeke get away with things that nobody else can, in general just has a weird soft spot for ezekiel that he shows with nobody else

when shao found dizzee with thor in a vaguely compromising situation (like they were just shirtless covered in paint sleeping next to each other but shao had also seen everything they painted on the walls ((which some of it was sus)), it was clear they had painted on each others bodies and dizzee had been routinely disappearing with this guy for weeks now yet not producing nearly as much art, at least, as far as we audience members know) he didnt judge him but instead, waited for him to get cleaned up and then told him something along the lines of "theres a reason why im so secretive blah blah blah [not everyone needs to know everything about me]", which, in context, kinda implies that he might be a lil. a lil homiesexual. jus a lil.

whenever even the possibility of zeke leaving him comes up he absolutely loses it. he has literally cost ezekiel life changing opportunities because he thought zeke would just up and leave him for them. this could be abandonment issues bc he's a severely traumatized character, and that probably does contribute to it, but it also is just not a reaction he has to any of their other friends just randomly dipping in and out of his life soooooo

generally speaking, this mfer has got either bisexual with a big hard on for zeke coding or homosexual with terrible internalized homophobia and still a hard on for zeke coding. either fucking way, that nigga gay. he gay as hell. gay as fuck man. there wasn't really much to analyze here tbh bc the coding is just so fucking obvious if you look for it or you are/have been a gay person who's dealt with at least a little bit of internalized homophobia.

also, just a sidenote, idk how fucking old shao, but I'm praying hes like at max 19 bc I'm pretty sure zeke is a minor in this show and shao definetly is not so the whole him being heavily implied to have a crush on ezekiel thing is kinda. oof. not oof if zeke is like 17 but any younger than that? OOF.

edit: apparently the characters are only supposed to be a year apart in age but i had no clue about that before writing this post and since shaos age was never actually stated in the show i naturally assumed he was an adult since his actor Looks Like An Adult. this is definetly on me to a certain extent, but i also never saw anything about this when trying to find our their ages so 🤷‍♀️ maybe i just didnt look deep enough, sorry!

now moving on to the main event...marcus dizzee kipling :]

so, first things first, let's talk enby coding bc him being bisexual was already confirmed!

um, to start off, I just wanna say I dont think this enby coding was intentional or even really coding, it's just moreso me being a dizzee kin on main and knowing as a transmasc enby he has very transmasc enby vibes. for example:

cool, gender neutral nickname that everyone calls him

paints nails various different colors

the whole wardrobe is just a transmasc enby heaven...fishnet shirts, jean overalls, jackets and cuffed pants galore, the big colorful pins, etc

gender neutral hairstyle (when I had my fro it was very sexy and made it easy to transition between hyper masc and vaguely fem, which is pog)

comparing himself to/representing himself consistently with an alien character (though this is meant to represent his sexuality, it could also double as a gender thing too, not neccesarily bc of the whole nonbinary alien trope but bc an enby who likes aliens might heavily identify or compare themselves to whatever their idea of an alien is, whether that just be a genderless entity or a motherfucker with fly style and no need to be perceived as anything other Wacky As Hell)

moving on from there, let's talk about how his queerness is presented to us and how, while it may be a really good piece of representation, especially coming from netflix, it still lacks in A Lot of places.

so, let's start with good things!

i personally really like the get down's queer rep with dizzee bc it's (for the most part) nonsexualized and very very soft, about dizzee figuring himself out and realizing there is a place where he fits in, and about two teenagers in the 70s falling in love over their shared passion for street art. it also features an interracial couple where both boys challenge stereotypes both about queer men and men of color, which is epic poggers and very sexy. this piece of rep specifically is very important to me bc I am a queer black person and even tho interracial relationships are mostly normalized now, I've still had people give me shit for primarily dating white people in a town that is...primarily white lol

mm anyways, I can also appreciate how in the get down, dizzee being represented by rumi the alien is not a thing specifically related to gender (as it often is) and instead is about his sexuality and just in general weirdness and how it has led to him being alienated amongst his peers, poc or otherwise. him seeing himself as an alien is not about just his queerness, which is important, it is about him being a queer black man who talks different, acts different, dresses different and is "soft"—he isnt a walking black male stereotype and he wouldnt have been seen as masculine back in the 70s by any stretch of the imagination. this can be relatable to a wide spectrum of queer poc, from queer black men currently who still have to deal with this shit or to people like myself who are afab neurodivergent mixed race enbies that have always been signaled out as weird and alienated for it. dizzee is god rep bc while he has a small part in this show, his parts are very impactful, hard hitting and show queer poc of all ages that they arent alone and that it's okay to "weird", you just need to embrace it because somebody will love you for you, as thor did for dizzee.

that being said theres um. some minor problemas here,,,

namely:

dizzee and thors first kiss

the lack of development this pairing got

the way dizzee was confirmed bisexual off screen, he never said the words himself, just showed interest in both genders

the way dizzee and thor were never even confirmed boyfriends or just fwb so most of the fandom just calls them boyfriends bc Why Not

dizzee was implied fucking DEAD??? AT THE END OF THE SERIES?????? AND THOR WAS IMPLIED ARRESTED?????????????

now, these might have been things that wouldve been fine had the show been given it's full run but it wasnt which is why we are now left with probelms.

so, from the top, let's go over these: dizzee and thor's first (and only "on screen") kiss was one that was shown in a montage of other queer people making over and doing other vaguely romantic/sexual things, one of those things being a whole ass naked titty being mouthed at, but the actual kiss...was just not shown? like they really did just say "yes they kissed <3 you know this from the context clues of it being in a montage with kissing, hickey giving and titty sucking <3 but no we will not show it <3" LIKE HELLO? I SAW A NAKED BOOBIE BUT NOT TWO MEN KISS??? HUH????????

also, dizzee and thor were both fucking high as hell during this bit like this isnt a terrible thing but it's also like sometimes you do shit when you're high that you wouldnt do sober and they just never kissed again on screen so like?? like idk that's not that bad but it does kinda irk me since they deadass got no other on screen intimacy after that unless you including painting on eacher other or sleeping next to each other on a shitty mattress but not touching at all during it bc they were both at opposite ends of the mattress like half way off it

so yeah, that was trash. then we got lack of development, which kinda goes with the "dizzee being a bisexual but he never says it in canon" thing cause like...okay dizzee was already sort of a side character from the get go like he wasnt the mc by any means, but he became way more of a background character as things continued until we basically only saw him for performances or when he was with thor, yet they got no fucking development as a pairing other than "dizzee realize he gay, he like thor, he and thor spend time together and ig probably do some gay stuff but we dont really know bc we only ever see them do graffiti together now" like?? tf am I supposed to do with that shit. answer. quickly. and then theres dizzee not being confirmed bisexual, which is just a running problem with shows literally doing everything to say a character is bi except for having the character just...say they're bi? which would be so easy? like a good way dizzee and thor couldve had some development is by thor teaching dizzee things about the queer community that he didnt even know existed, thor couldve helped him understand what being bi meant and helped him label himself and whatnot but instead we got an off screen confirmation that the writers had bisexual in mind when writing him. which is garbagé.

the whole thor and dizzee never having a confirmed relationship status is also a development problem cause like literally nobody knows if they were just friends who made out, maybe fucked, who knows, or if they were dating bc dizzee does give a love confession but a love confession doesn't mean there is a relationship, especially since thor didn't say he was in love either (as far as I remember, I could be wrong, plus whether or not that really happened or was apart of dizzee literally overdosing during a performance is unclear so 🤪)

and now for the biggest issue...bury your gays trope.

during the season 2 finale, dizzee and thor are chased by cops after they are found doing graffiti, one of the cops is able to catch thor while the other chases dizzee into a train tunnel and there is a train seen headed straight for him before the show cuts to black on a train horn. the show writers claim that if they had gotten another season, dizzee wouldve been alive but since they didnt and since that's essentially super fan trivia knowledge, most people dont fucking know that and instead had to watch a black queer teenager chose death over being fucking arrested by a white cop. on top of that, thor didnt see any of that shit because he was caught and the cop started hauling him off while dizzee was still being chased so thor literally has no clue where his friend/possible boyfriend fucking is or that he's likely dead in a goddamn tunnel all alone, unless you count the fucking pig that chased him in there who wouldve died too. this shows rep was so fucking good as far as most shows go on not having major fucking problems, on not being toxic and over sexualized, etc, etc. and then they just. killed a black queer teenager for no fucking reason. like it was literally the last episode ever, it would add nothing to the plot, it would just devastate fans and devastate it fucking did. I dont cry easy but seeing a character I identified with, who I had hyperfixated on, die because he'd rather that than be arrested is terrible. it fucking sucked.

so yeah. that's my all too extensive thoughts/analysis on the get down's queerness. theres definitely stuff I missed, or misinterpreted, or looked too much into, etc, etc., but this was a fun thing to spend time writing sooo yeah!! thanks for the ask anon, sorry this was just a big rambley info dump, but hopefully you get some enjoyment out of it since it took like 3 hours at least 😭😭 feel free to ask clarifying questions lol

[nandalorian]

All the even ones <3

JESUS, REALLY?

Fiiiiiiine.

2: Shoe size

US10.5

4: Do you drink?

Yes, moderately.

6: Age you get mistaken for

Nothing specific but usually younger.

8: Want any tattoos?

Always more!

10: Want any piercings?

Not a huge fan of needles but I'd like to get my nose re-pierced.

12: Relationship status

Single

14: Biggest turn offs

People allergic to compromise or who talk about themselves waaaaay too much.

16: I’ll love you if…

You enjoy talking bollocks and hearing useless facts about horses.

18: Most traumatic experience

My dad dying.

20: What I hate most about myself

Oof, nothing. Plenty to improve but "hate" is too strong a word.

22: What I want to be when I get older

Unemployed on a good salary.

24: My relationship with my parent(s)

Good relationship with my mum!

26: My biggest pet peeves

People who don't clean up after themselves or don't pull their weight at work.

28: A description of the person I dislike the most

Can I say Trump? That about covers it.

30: What I hate the most about work/school

Commuting.

32: What words upset me the most

You don't matter.

34: What I find attractive in women

Everything?

36: Where I would like to live

I'd love to move back to the UK.

38: My childhood career choice

Paleontologist or marine biologist

40: Who I wish I could be

Someone with several million dollars to spend on horses and fun shoes.

42: The last thing I ate

Pizza

44: A random fact about anything

Horses can't vomit.

[imaginingsoftly]

Wedding Date Pt 4 - Tyler Seguin

Type: strangers-enemies-lovers, series

Requested: no

Warnings: swearing

Three weeks. Melissa made it three weeks in Dallas before she ran into any members of the Dallas Stars. Her brain, paranoid as it was, had convinced her it would be Tyler that she ran into. Everyone else she could skate by unnoticed, but not Tyler. He’d tried to message her on Instagram a few times after the wedding, though he gave up after a couple of weeks when her messages remained short and detached or nonexistent.

It wasn’t that she was uninterested; if anything, she was a little too interested in him. She also knew that he wasn’t the type to do a relationship, and despite all of her joking that weekend of the wedding Melissa wasn’t the type for a hookup. Kirsten was still pissed at her for ghosting him. Actually, pretty much everyone that had seen them together was upset. 

Melissa strode out of a coffee shop and directly into what felt approximately like a brick wall. Said wall made a small “oof” noise, like her shoulder had knocked the wind out of it, and she squinted up to see it was a person, not a wall. Most of the team should have still been out of the city; training camp wasn’t due to begin for another month or so. Instead of being on vacation like a normal NHLer, however, Jordie Benn was standing in front of her. One of his hands came up to Melissa’s shoulder to steady her as she stumbled backward slightly. “You’re Melissa. You were in that wedding Segs went to.” It was impressive that he had recognized her from one Instagram post, and Melissa knew that lying to him would get her nowhere. 

“I am. How the hell do you know who I am?” She hadn’t meant to sound so combative, but Jordie just laughed. 

“Segs hasn’t shut up about you for weeks. Plus, he posted those photos.” True. He’d even tagged her in them, despite her best efforts to convince him not to. She’d been deleting follow requests on her private Instagram account ever since. “Segs was under the impression that you live outside DC, but I’m gonna guess you moved?” He waited for Melissa to nod. Damn, he was good. “C’mon.” Jordie gestured at his car. “I’ll bring you to my place to meet my wife. Make a friend your age, and maybe you can get her out of the house on occasion so that I can have baby time without her hovering over me?” 

Melissa laughed. She wouldn’t normally just follow some random person, but this was Jordie. Tyler had talked about him that night he word-vomited and made her coffee, and he sounded like her kind of people. Plus, it’s hard to resist a bear of a man talking about wanting one-on-one time with his baby. “Lead the way, then. I’ll never say no to friends and babies.” 

He led her to an SUV that didn’t fit what Melissa expected him to drive at all. She’d almost expected a jacked-up truck or a Jeep. “He hasn’t shut up about you, you know.” Melissa fumbled with her seat belt when Jordie spoke again. Sure, he’d been messaging her, but she hadn’t expected him to talk about her with his friends. Melissa didn’t respond, and the pair fell silent as they drove to the outskirts of the city. 

The outside of the Benn house looked cozy, mostly natural woods and an all-American type front yard. Melissa felt a jolt of nerves as Jordie pulled into the driveway, like it had finally hit her that she let some random stranger drive her to his house without a second thought. It was probably the dumbest thing she’d ever done. “Hey. I promise you and Jess will get along. And everybody loves babies, yeah?” He sounded like the older brother she’d never had, and his voice was more reassuring than she expected. 

Jordie led Melissa inside, calling out a quiet “babe?” as he shut the front door. They walked down a long hallway into the kitchen, where a woman was shuffling coffee and a baby. “Jess, I brought a friend of Segs’ home with me. Melissa just moved to the city, needs some female friends.” It was a little embarrassing to hear Jordie lay it all out there like that, but he was right. Melissa had been in the city for almost a month now, and she’d yet to meet anyone outside of the other professors in her department. Introversion a million, Melissa zero. 

“It’s nice to meet you, Melissa. I’m Jess and this,” she bounced the baby on her hip slightly, “is Billie.” Billie made grabby hands at Melissa, and she laughed. Jess put out her other hand for Melissa to shake, and she gripped the other woman’s hand gratefully. Jordie slung an arm around Jess’ waist, pulling her in so he could plant a kiss on her forehead. Melissa made faces at Billie while Jordie whispered in his wife’s ear, and Jess nodded. “You up for burgers and drinks?” she asked. “We’ve moved Billie completely to baby food, so I can actually consume more than one drink a day now.”  Melissa nodded in agreement. It would be stupid to pass up such a good opportunity to make a new friend. And one with a cute baby, no less.

They made their way out to the patio, when Jordie turned on the grill and Jess handed Billie over to Melissa. “So,” the other woman said with a smirk, “you and Tyler?” Melissa groaned. Not even ten minutes. She looked over at Jordie for help, practically begging him with her eyes to step in, but he leaned back against the railing of the patio like he wanted to know as well.

Melissa turned her gaze down to Billie and ran her fingers through the baby’s hair. “My best friend Kirsten is his cousin. She got it into her head that Tyler and I both needed a good person to be in a relationship, and that meant we should be in a relationship with each other. She spent most of her wedding weekend trying to set us up, and that included putting us in the same hotel suite.” Jordie groaned in sympathy, muttering something about Tyler as a roommate. “We got along really really well, actually. It was fun to talk to him. He made me laugh harder than any guy has been able to in a long time.” She smiled down at Billie gently. “The night of the wedding he got me to dance with him, and then we went back to the hotel suite. We hooked up, it was awkward the next morning, and then I kinda ghosted him.” That was where it all went wrong, really. It was a pretty asshole thing on her part, and she knew it. 

She didn’t get a chance to continue before Jordie was stepping in. “He doesn’t even know you’re in the city, and he’d been talking about how much he wants to see you again. He talked about trying to get you to see him when the team plays in DC this season.” Melissa’s stomach dropped. She didn’t see the judgement in either Benn’s faces when she looked up at them, though Jordie’s face still made her feel bad. He looked almost disappointed in her, and it hurt a surprising amount for someone she had literally just met. “He really liked you too.” Melissa didn’t have anything to say to that, and Jess quickly changed the subject.

It was nice to just sit and talk with Jess and Jordie, especially as the conversation moved to how they’d met and stories about Jordie’s career. Hours passed as they sat there and talked, and Melissa and Jess managed to work through a bottle and a half of white wine together. For once she was relaxing and just enjoying the flow of conversation without the crutch of a familiar face alongside her. 

She was still holding Billie when Tyler appeared. Billie giggled sleepily on Melissa’s shoulder as she swayed along to the country song playing softly on the patio, though Melissa froze when she saw Tyler staring at her in the doorway. “Tyler,” she breathed. Her words broke the spell that held him in place, and Tyler strode back into the house without a word. “Shit.” Melissa handed Billie back to Jessie and took off in Tyler’s direction. She could hear Jordie arguing with Tyler near the front door, and then a thud as Tyler threw the door open. 

Jordie stared at Melissa as she ran past him and out the front door. She threw an apology at the larger man over her shoulder, though she didn’t stop. Tyler was almost at his car. “Tyler!” He didn’t stop. If anything, it looked like he sped up. “Ty, stop.” He froze at the sound of his nickname. Melissa’s breath came out slightly ragged when she finally reached him, taking in the set of his shoulders and the way the muscles in his neck clenched. “I’m sorry.”

Of all the things she could have said in that moment, it seemed like those were the worst words she could have chosen. “Oh, you’re sorry?” Tyler whipped his head around. His eyes were angry, but there was more there. Frustration? Embarrassment? She couldn’t place it. “What are you sorry for, exactly? Sorry that you hooked up with me? Sorry that you ghosted me?” He gestured shortly at the house, where Jordie was standing outside with his arms crossed. “Sorry that you showed up at my friend’s house after ignoring me for weeks, acting like nothing happened? Sorry for what, Melissa?” He was breathing heavily, arms spread out on either side of his body, and the guy standing in front of her was nothing like the Tyler she’d seen on television or the one that had made her laugh so much over that weekend. 

She didn’t get a chance to say anything else. “I really don’t want to talk to you right now.” Tyler jumped into his car and slammed the door shut before Melissa even got a chance to open her mouth. 

“You deserved that, you know.” Jordie’s voice sounded from beside Melissa. “I’m sure that’s not what you want to hear, but you do.” Melissa looked over at the larger man to see him staring down at her with something akin to sympathy. “Doesn’t mean I won’t help you fix it though. You’ve got friends in Jessi and I now, and Segs is one of my best buddies. We’ll help you work it out, if that’s what you want.” Was that what she wanted? Tyler leaving her alone had been the goal, or at least she’d thought it was, so why did him leaving bother her so much?

Jordie put a hand on Melissa’s shoulder when she nodded. “Alrighty then. We’ll start tomorrow. I’m hosting a barbeque, and Segs will be there. For now, let’s get you home, yeah?” 

[meandmypagancrew]

Maybe What You Think Of Me Won’t Change

Did you guys know that in addition to being a gifmaker and a dollmaker, I’m also a writer? I know! I am a woman of many talents most mediocre and useless. Anyway, I wrote this little fic about Clark and Farrah from We Are The Tigers, so if you’re into that kind of thing, give it a read under the cut!

It wasn’t super uncommon for Farrah to suddenly come to and not know where she was or how she got there. So when, in her drunken haze, she had a sudden moment of clarity and found herself outside by a dumpster, she groaned. In the dim light from a streetlight, she took stock as she pushed one of her braids over her shoulder. Clothes? Still on. Phone? Not dead. Purse? There. There wasn’t any vomit or blood or anything. All in all, not the worst night she had ever had.

As she got on shaky feet, she tried to remember what had happened. Marissa had picked her up, and they went to a house party at Rich’s. She had a few flashes of the party, a red solo cup in her hand, Liz doing a keg stand, Kayla and Jason trying to subtly sneak upstairs- but then nothing. Fuck. There was no one around, so how was she supposed to get home? She pulled out her phone again and clicked the home button, being greeted by a picture of Tom Holland as Spiderman- her favorite celebrity crush- and the time 3:42. It was a Thursday, but still summer, so thank God she didn’t have to worry about being up for school. 

She pushed that thought to the back of her mind. First she needed to get home. She unlocked her phone- her home screen was a picture of her and her mom when she was born, which caused her to squint, both because of the lighter color scheme being brighter and the memory of her mom- and clicked to her contacts. Family was strictly out of the question, Annleigh would kill her for waking her up, her stepmom hated her, and her dad wouldn’t be mad but he’d be so disappointed he would probably cry the entire way and making your dad cry is a soul crushing experience.

She sat back down as she scrolled through her contacts. Party friends. A guy who was her partner for a chem project last year. Former Captain Kimberly, future Captain Riley. A guy who was rumored to be a drug dealer, but was only her contact for buying alcohol. Her first try was Marissa- she got her into this, it seemed only natural she’d get her out, but it went straight to voice mail. She kept looking, her drunk mind trying to think. Her finger tapped on Bridget, a girl who had been a cheerleader at Giles Corey but transferred back to public school after her dad had been laid off. They weren’t close, but Bridget had shown her the ropes when she joined the team, and she was a night owl so she should still be awake.

Before the first ring even finished, her usual deadpan voice answered. 

“What.” She said, and Farrah struggled to not sound as drunk as she was as she responded.

“Bridged?” Despite her best efforts, her speech was a little slurred. “Canyou comeaaand git mee?”

“Farrah, it’s almost four AM.” Her voice still had no inflection. Even when sober, it was very difficult to discern where Bridget was standing, and if you were getting anywhere with her. Drunk? It was pretty much impossible.

“Yeeeeaaaaaaah… but Imm stuuuuuuck.” 

“No.” Was the response, unusually harsh for Bridget. 

“Whaa…?” She asked, though she was pretty sure she heard her correctly. It just didn’t seem right. Bridget wouldn’t just abandon her like this, right? As she had so astutely noted it was almost 4 AM- she was the only person who would be awake.

“No. I’m not your babysitter, Farrah. You got yourself into this mess, take some goddamn responsibility for your actions.”

“Buuu… butMarissa took meee dribking-“

“Did Marissa force the alcohol down your throat?” Bridget asked, a little too abruptly and Farrah didn’t respond. She knew she was right, and Bridget knew from her silence she had hit the nail on her head. “You made a choice. You deal with the consequences.”

The line went dead. Bridget’s words were true, but how the hell was Farrah supposed to get out of this? Buses weren’t running this time of night, she didn’t even know where she was, let alone how to get home- she needed help.

As she resumed scrolling through her contacts, a very depressing thought hit her. She didn’t have anyone to call. She was the girl you call for a party, not the girl you depend on when you need help. She didn’t have a single true friend she could depend on right now. There were no clutch friends. To put it quite frankly, she was completely fucked.

As she settled in against the dumpster to wait for daybreak, hoping the sun would bring with it some ideas, a memory she didn’t know she had came to the forefront of her mind. 

“I think she’s asleep.” A voice that must have been Annleigh’s said in her memory. 

She was lying down, but her eyes were closed. From the lights that occasionally shone through her eyelids, the soft rumbling, and the feeling of movement, she must have been in the backseat of the car.

“Okay.” Came another voice, male- Clark. “I’ll carry her in when we get there.”

“You don’t have to do that!” Annleigh immediately replied, and Farrah could picture the heart eyes she was almost undoubtedly making. “You’ve already done so much, helping me come get her.”

“Don’t mention it.” He replied. “I’m happy to help.”

“You must get tired of it.” Annleigh replied with a sigh. “I mean, she’s not even your family.”

“Well, first off, we are all sisters and brothers in the eyes of our Heavenly Father,” She could hear the smile in his voice, and a gentle sound of contact as if Annleigh had playfully hit his arm. When he spoke again, though, the smile was gone. “In all seriousness, though, your family is my family. I will always be there for Farrah, because I love her like a sister.”

The conversation turned to some boring bullshit about theology, so she had tuned it out. But her mind kept coming back to that promise. Did he mean it? Did he say it just because he thought it would win him brownie points? Either way, it was her last possible option, so she navigated to his contact and hit call.

After a few rings, his groggy voice answered.

“Hello?”

“Clark?” She asked, and she could almost feel him snap awake.

“Farrah? What’s happening? Is Annleigh okay? Are you okay?”

“Iiii’m fiiiiine. I need a riiide.”

Clark exhaled, and she felt a little bad for waking him up. He was probably going to do thing Bridget had. This was a speculator waste of time for everyone.

“I’m…. I don’t knoooow…”

“Do you see any landmarks?” He asked, his voice patient even though she could hear him moving about, probably grabbing his keys and heading out.

“Let me… check…” She stumbled a little bit, struggling to hold the phone and climb to her feet. “Oof, okay…”

“Farrah, what’s going on?” He asked, and she waved it off before realizing he couldn’t see her as she meandered out of the alley to the street.

“Iiiit’s fiiine. You worry too much!” 

She put a hand on the wall to steady her as she took stock of her surroundings. Sure enough, she was at a bar, but she didn’t recognize the name and found it highly unlikely Clark would either. Most of the storefronts were dark, and even the ones that weren’t, she felt like the words were spinning in front of her. 

“What do you see?” He asked, and she scrunched up her face.

“Uhhh…” She stalled but then she saw it. She thought it was maybe the most beautiful building she had ever seen in her life, down at the end of the street. “There’s a castle…”

“A… castle?” He asked, confused.

“It’s all white. It’s so pretty. It has flowers.”

“An all white building?” He tried to clarify. “The hospital?”

“No… there’s a man on the building…” She had to squint, but sure enough.

“A man on a castle that’s white with flowers?” The skepticism in his voice was so evident that even in her state she could pick up on it and it annoyed her.

“He’s golden!” She insisted, just wanting him to believe her, that she wasn’t hallucinating.

“A golden man on- the Mormon temple?” He asked, which Farrah couldn’t say for sure, but it seemed like the best bet. “Farrah, are you at the Mormon temple?”

“Nooo… I’m in front of a bar down the street…”

“Okay. Okay. Hold on.” Clark said as Farrah leaned against the wall, already feeling a hangover starting to set in. “I’ll be there in five minutes. Can you hang on for five minutes?”

“Yeah…” She replied, closing her eyes against the light filtering through the bar’s windows.

“Okay. I’ll see you soon.”

Once he hung up, she pocketed her phone after making sure it was on vibration in case something happened. She had considered doing something on her phone while she waited, but even on the lowest setting, it seemed so bright it might burn her. Out of sheer boredom, she started to undo her braids. After all, even if she slept in them, she’d have to redo them tomorrow, because they’d be messy. 

Just as she was relocating her second hair tie to her wrist, and shaking out the braid, the door to the bar opened, and a man walked out. Farrah didn’t notice him at first, busy combing her hair out, but he sure noticed her.

“Oh, hey, pretty girl.” He said and she looked up into eyes that looked at her like she was less of a person and more of a meal. Ugh. She had met so many predatory men like this, and she really wasn’t up to it right now. “What are you doing out here all alone?”

“My ride is coming.” She said, both as an answer to the question and a way of informing him that there was someone who knew where she was supposed to be, so he better not try anything.

“I can take you wherever you need to go, baby.” He was almost purring, which was about as unsettling as being called baby by a stranger twice her age. “Especially if where you need to go is back to my place.”

That statement was punctuated with a wink, and she felt like she needed a shower.

“No, thank you.” She replied, trying to walk the line between being polite enough that he didn’t think she was a cunt and murdered her, but not so polite that he thought she was into him and when she rejected him, didn’t think she was a cunt and murdered her. 

“Aw, come on, I can make you feel reeeeal good.”

He started to advance towards her and Farrah took a step back before she realized that would just back her into an alleyway, which was a dead end. She had no option but to stand her ground.

“I said no!” She almost yelled, and he grabbed her arm.

“Come on, baby, don’t be like that.” She tried to struggle against his grip, but he tightened his grip, which only scared her more. He was so much more powerful than she was.

“Get off of me!” Now she was yelling, a hint of desperation in her voice and he grabbed her other arm as well, which she continued to try to resist, but he was too strong.

“I said don’t be-“

“Get away from her!” She heard a car door slamming and while she couldn’t see who it was, she recognized his voice. The dude’s attention was fractured by the interruption, and his grip loosened as he looked over his shoulder. Farrah took advantage of that to pry herself from his grasp, running straight at Clark, throwing her arms around him and clutching the back of his shirt as tightly as she could, squeezing her eyes shut as she buried her face in his chest. He immediately wrapped one arm around her, holding her close.

“What are you, her boyfriend?” He sneered, and the fear in Farrah’s heart didn’t subside much. What even could Clark do? This guy, he looked like he could be a stunt double for Thor. And Clark? Clark could be the stunt double for Captain America- pre-serum.

“I’m her BROTHER!” He said, his voice taking on a hint of fierceness that Farrah had never heard before, and somehow she knew that he was going to protect her, whatever it took. “And she clearly said no, not to mention the fact that she’s 15! Take one more step towards us and I’m calling the cops on you, you pervert!”

There was a very tense moment, a pregnant pause where Farrah could feel Clark’s heart pounding against her forehead. He talked a big game, but he was terrified. If he called their bluff? The two of them together couldn’t even come close to taking him on, especially in her state. But he must have moved away, because she felt Clark exhale.

“Whatever. She’s a fat bitch anyway.” His voice was moving away, but Clark continued to hold on for several moments. He put his other arm around her before pressing a soft kiss to the top of her head.

“Oh, Farrah…” 

She pulled away and looked up at him, furrowing her eyebrows at the soft murmur, confused about what he meant. Before she could ask, he pulled away even more to open the door of the car for her.

“Let’s get you home.”

She obediently climbed in, again running a hand through her hair as she checked in the mirror her reflection. Her makeup was a mess and she had definitely seen better days, but the wave in her hair was gorgeous. As Clark got into the car next to her and immediately locked the door, she expected him to say something, but he stayed silent. Even as he started the car and some sort of Christian rock- Switchfoot, maybe?- started filtering through his car speakers, a little distorted because the bass was ruined. If Farrah recalled correctly, that was because when Greatest Showman came out, Annleigh adored it so much that not only did she make Clark take her to go see it in the theatres at least six different times, it was the only thing she would listen to and she would play it whenever he drove her anywhere and was not afraid to blast it.

She expected a lecture, some kind of explosion, but instead he just stared straight ahead, clutching the wheel so tightly that his knuckles turned white. His silence was agonizing, and when she finally recognized their surroundings as he turned into their neighborhood, she braved speaking.

“Are you mad?”

“No.” He answered quickly. It wasn’t snapping at her, just a decisive statement.

“Are you sad?”

“No.” It was said the same way and she exhaled in frustration, feeling like she had to get to the bottom of this before he dropped her off, which would be soon despite the meandering streets of the neighborhood that made little sense- Clark was an expert and could navigate it like nobody’s business.

“Are you hungry?”

“No.”

“Are you annoyed?”

“No.”

“Are you disgusted?”

“Farrah, I’m worried.” He said as he pulled in front of the Victorian manor replica that she called her home. 

She was surprised that he cared so much, and surprised at herself that she also felt defensive. As he unbuckled his seatbelt to turn and look at her, she crossed her arms.

“You’re only saying that because of Annleigh. You don’t care about me. Or at least you only care about me as Annleigh’s sister.”

“Farrah, look around.” He said, and she furrowed her eyebrows, turning to him. Look at what? The dark buses that lined the pathway up to the front door? The neighbors across the street who’s porch light was green instead of normal? The empty McDonalds bag at her feet? The little pop figures from whatever weeb shit he was into on the dashboard?

“Do you see Annleigh anywhere?” Her brows still furrowed, she shook her head. Of course Annleigh wasn’t here, she would be inside asleep, like the good little girl she was. “This isn’t an act for her. I’m not even planning on telling her this happened. I’m worried about you because I care about you. Not the Farrah who’s Annleigh’s sister, but the Farrah who’s an amazing flier, the Farrah who knows all the words to Princess Bride and watches it every year on her birthday, the Farrah who hasn’t taken ballet in four years but still sometimes twirls when she thinks no one is looking. I care about the Farrah who goes horseback riding and even if she’s in a skirt refuses to ride side-saddle. I care about the Farrah who hides books in her backpack because she loves to read but would hate for anyone to find out. I care about the Farrah who sits on her phone and pretends not to pay attention to whatever’s on TV but when her dad falls asleep during the middle of an episode and then when he wakes up and asks what he missed, always knows exactly what’s going on. I care about the Farrah who found an abandoned kitten in a rainstorm and took him home and took care of him until she could be rehomed despite the fact that she’s very allergic. I care about the Farrah that named that cat Aaron Purr. I care about that Farrah a whole lot more than I care about Annleigh’s sister.”

She didn’t have a response to that. Clark had only been actively in her life for about a year, since her dad got married, but in that time he had been paying attention. She had gone through the mortifying ordeal of being known by him and she didn’t even realize. But at the same time, even though those things were all true, they all seemed so far away. When was the last time she had danced? Finished a book? Gone horse riding at all? The person he described sounded like such a nice person, she wanted her back. When she realized that, she started to cry.

“Oh- oh, no, no, Farrah, please don’t cry-“ Clark started to panic, placing a hand on her back as she dropped her head into her hands as he continued to move around as if looking for something. “I didn’t mean it as a bad thing, I just think you’re an amazing young woman and if you keep getting into bad situations like you did tonight, I don’t know what’s going to happen-“

“Help me.” She managed to get out through her sobs, and he suddenly stilled.

“What?”

“Help me. Please.” Once she started, it seemed like she couldn’t stop, even though the plea had to be filtered through sobs and snot. “I know I’m in trouble, but I don’t know how to stop- I can’t stop. I know everyone hates me, even my friends, and I know that it’s gone too far, but I’m scared, Clark, I’m so scared-“

“Hey, hey, shhh…” His voice brought her to an immediate halt, bringing her back to earth. She looked up at him, and even with her smeared mascara, snotty nose, tear stained cheeks, and red, puffy eyes, he didn’t turn away. He didn’t recoil in disgust. He offered her some napkins from a fast food chain he must have found somewhere with an encouraging smile. “It’s going to be okay. I’ll talk to your parents with you about it. If you have to go to rehab, I’ll visit you there and write. A bunch of my friends have sisters about your age, I’ll introduce you to them and maybe you’ll really hit it off and find some better friends. It won’t be easy, but I promise you don’t have to do it alone. Just say when.”

She accepted his offering and transferred her makeup from her face to the little caricature of the Grecian from the Little Ceasers logo, thinking hard about it. Right now was not an option, even with the sun beginning to appear on the horizon, she didn’t want to wake anyone up. But she also knew if she waited too long, she would lose her nerve. She was already starting to waver as she pulled herself back together. Surely things weren’t that bad, right? She could handle it on her own. But Clark was still looking at her for an answer.

“The day after tomorrow.” She finally said, and he seemed a little confused about the random time, so she explained. “The cheer sleepover is tomorrow night. You’re picking Annleigh and I up in the morning. When you drop us off, my parents should be home.”

Understanding the timeline, he nodded. It would give him enough time to research how to be a support system for her, and it would give her enough time to figure out how to backtrack, and tell Clark she didn’t really mean it and she was actually fine. That decided, she sling her purse over her shoulder and opened the car door to get out.

“Farrah?” He asked as she put her foot on the sidewalk, and she turned a little to look at him.

“Hmm?”

The light in the interior turned on when she opened the door, so she could see him clearly for the first time all night. He looked tired, but still as charismatically cheerful as ever, the human equivalent of a golden retriever. 

“Chin up, buttercup.”

He gave her shoulder a playful punch and she couldn’t help but smile back before fully getting out of the car. As she walked up to her door, she thought that maybe it wouldn’t be too bad after all. Maybe he could help her find the girl he saw again, and she could be better. As she opened the door she looked back. He was still waiting and gave a small wave. She waved back before taking a deep breath and stepping inside, hearing his car start up again and drive off as the door closed behind her.

[pips-fics]

lucy fic, as requested!  this one’s about wonsang getting some kind of stomach flu and involves a lot of random headcanons i have about these boys

——

the truth was, wonsang hadn’t been feeling great for the past two days.  a moderate headache had become the norm, and everything felt just a tad fuzzier than normal, a tad achier than someone his age should feel.  even on his best days, wonsang wasn’t the most clearheaded person, but music was normally an exception to that rule - and yet, he felt so off that yenevara* decided to postpone the production of the new album until the following day in favor of allowing wonsang to get some rest.

they didn’t talk about it, but the whole group knew that wonsang had trouble sleeping most nights.  it didn’t usually impact him so much, of course.  he could handle it.  but, sleep being a basic bodily function, it was only to be expected that he’d have days where his general lack of rest intruded on his abilities to function as a productive human being.  the other members of yenevara didn’t question it because wonsang didn’t mention the fact that he in fact had slept well the previous night - abnormally well, in fact.  and yet, when he returned to the dorm at 5 pm, he fell back asleep instantly.

his sleep started light and restless - he couldn’t quite get comfortable, and he woke slightly upon overhearing his bandmates when they returned from practicing in the studio.  they were loud - well, yechan was loud, the others were more or less normal human beings - and before too long they had their instruments out again.  this was typical; they practiced seriously at the studio, and then continued playing with a more variable level of focus when they returned to the dorm, sometimes splitting up to work on their own individual projects.  today they quickly dissolved into laughter and groans.  wonsang vaguely gathered that someone (probably gwangil) had spilled something in an attempt to create an unconventional instrument.  they were very noisy today, but it didn’t bother wonsang too much.  he was glad they were home.

he drifted off and then regained a bit of consciousness some time later, still half-asleep, to the sound of voices once again, but this time they were hushed, and much closer in proximity.

“he’s been sleeping here the whole time?”  gwangil whispered.

sangyeop hummed, pensive.  “he must have been.”

“but how did he sleep through all of that?”

“why was he back so early?  wasn’t yenevara working on demos or something today?”  the shower started up and wonsang was glad yechan wasn’t in here with the others.  as much as he loved their oldest member, he didn’t particularly enjoy the idea of being woken up by his consistently chaotic state of being at this specific moment.  “do you think he had dinner?”

“we should let him rest,” gwangil said.  wonsang felt fingers carding through his hair and didn’t bother trying to figure who they belonged to.  someone else’s weight caused the foot of the bed to dip, and wonsang relaxed further as whoever it was pulled off his shoes.  he hadn’t even realized they were still on his feet.  “he probably just didn’t sleep well last night.”

sangyeop sounded less sure.  “i guess we’ll just have to wait and see.”

after that, wonsang fell into a deep, undisturbed sleep.  he didn’t wake up until late the next morning, when someone (yechan) yelled for some unknown reason (based on sangyeop’s deadpan response of “dumbass,” best guess is he burned his tongue on his coffee.  again).

wonsang did not want to get up.

“what the hell is wrong with him?”  gwangil grumbled, referring to their violinist no doubt, as he sat up in bed.

“what time is it?”  wonsang asked quietly.  pitifully, if he was being honest.  but here’s the thing: he was exhausted.

“ten-thirty.  too early.  i’m going back to sleep.”

wonsang nearly started crying.  it took everything he had to restrain himself to a faint whimper as he rolled himself out of bed.  at the sound, gwangil straightened up.

“hyung?  What’s wrong?”

wonsang shook his aching head, mumbling something about the rescheduled production meeting at 11 that he was definitely going to be late for, and trudged towards the bathroom to get ready.

everything seemed to take five times as long as it should have.  everything was ten times as difficult.  he didn’t bother styling his hair, or even wetting it for that matter - the thought of putting water on his head right now was absolutely repulsive.  as he was doing his best to pat it down to a reasonable nest rather than a rather explosive one, he noted the deep bags under his eyes and wondered what right they had to be there when he’d just slept for over 12 hours straight.  the light was too bright and he had to put on makeup but he didn’t want to and nothing seemed fair and everything hurt.

by the time he left the bathroom, he was closer to tears than ever.

“wonsangie!”  The moment yechan plowed into him, wonsang crumpled to the ground, unintentionally bringing yechan with him as well.  “oof.”

wonsang did not feel good.  he hadn’t before, and collapsing so suddenly threw him into what could almost be called a state of shock.  he could feel that his own eyes were open too wide, getting dried out, but he couldn’t do anything to fix that at the moment.  he scooted backwards until he could lean against a wall, then started wringing his hands, keeping them close to his chest.  a bad habit.

yechan was staring at him intently, saying something and waving a hand in front of his face, rubbing his arm - probably an attempt to ground him - but wonsang was struggling just to breathe.  he could feel things, but he couldn’t feel them, let alone hear whatever questions or reassurances yechan had for him.

“what happened?”  the very distinct timbre of sangyeop’s voice brought wonsang back a bit and he coughed, gasping for air and shuddering as his body processed it.  he looked up at sangyeop and saw that his eyes were cartoonishly wide as well.  “are you two okay?”

“i- i don’t know.  wonsang?  i’m sorry,” yechan said, almost pleading.  sangyeop put a comforting hand on yechan’s head before helping him to his feet, the vocalist quickly filling the spot on the ground next to wonsang and looking him over much more deliberately than yechan had.  yechan and wonsang both watched in silence, the prior filled with worry and the latter still a bit shellshocked.  sangyeop poked and prodded and gently bent joints and finally breathed a sigh of relief.

“hey, bub,” he said to wonsang, taking his hands and massaging them.  preventing wonsang from accidentally injuring himself.  “you seem to be okay.  how are you feeling?”

and that was the end of wonsang’s composure.  his hands, numb and clumsy, fumbled around in search of sangyeop’s shirt.  upon finding it, wonsang puled the older boy into a limp but encompassing embrace and started sobbing loudly into sangyeop’s shoulder.  

he heard sangyeop sigh, but knew it was out of something like knowing compassion rather than disappointment.  “hey, what’s wrong, baby?  Is anything hurting?”

wonsang shook his head, unable to form words, but calmed his sobs to soft whimpers as sangyeop continued to pet his head. “i feel sick,” he said quietly.  sangyeop shifted and wonsang panicked, “hyung, please don’t- please don’t leave!”

sangyeop frowned.  “shhh, i won’t, baby, i promise.”

“b-but you’ll get sick, too?”  sangyeop was known to be the most health-conscious of the group.  usually, if someone was sick, he made a point of keeping his distance, so this response was somewhat surprising to not only wonsang, but also yechan, who was watching on with ever-increasing concern after leaving briefly to retrieve a bottle of water, as well.

“don’t worry about that, wonsangie.  as long as you’re okay, i’m okay.”  he pet the back of wonsang’s head for a minute before taking the water from yechan and offering it to the sick boy.  “can you drink some of this, baby?  just a little.”

wonsang made a face but complied, drinking a few sips before stopping abruptly.  “my meeting!”

it took sangyeop just a moment to catch on.  “yenevara?”

wonsang nodded, then winced at the way his head throbbed.  “we rescheduled because i was falling asleep yesterday…”

“i’ll call jihwan!”  yechan shouted, then immediately looked apologetic.  “sorry, sorry,” he amended, whispering now.  “i’ll cancel for you.”

at that, wonsang had to crack a smile.  loud and in-your-face was yechan’s default - it was cute seeing him make an effort to adjust right now.

“you’re calling jihwan?” gwangil stepped into the hallway, bedhead nothing short of glorious.  he stopped in his tracks. “wait.  what’s going on.”

wonsang felt his face heat up in embarrassment.  now that the shock had faded, the tears and the collapsing and the having to cancel all felt a little… shameful.  sangyeop squeezed his hand and offered a reassuring smile before turning back to their youngest.

“can you help me get wonsang to bed?  he’s not feeling well,” sangyeop replied calmly.

“ah, so that’s what was going on!”  gwangil wedged himself under wonsang’s arm and helped him to his feet.  “hyung, why didn’t you say something earlier?  i knew something was off.”

wonsang just shrugged, too tired and ill to explain himself, but gwangil didn’t seem to mind as they maneuvered back to the bedroom.  the bed felt 100 times nicer than the floor had, but that was, unfortunately, the only thing that felt good to wonsang at the moment.  his stomach felt about ready to crawl up his throat.

“we should’ve gone to the bathroom,” he whispered, all of about 3 minutes after being tucked in.  he hadn’t let go of sangyeop’s hand since, but now he did, suddenly requiring both of his own hands to cover his mouth as he gagged, eyes squeezed shut.  he heard sangyeop suck in a harsh breath, and then someone was helping wonsang sit up as he retched a second time.  he shuddered as he choked back vomit, only to lurch forward with a pained heave that forced his eyes to open and fill with tears.

“hey, it’s okay.”  yechan was here and had placed a bucket on wonsang’s lap.  wonsang’s eyes darted around the room.  “sangyeopie had to leave, bub.  you now how his stomach is.”  wonsang did know, but that didn’t mean he had to like it.  his tears started spilling over as he breathed heavily through the nausea.

“hey, hey.  don’t cry, hyung.  he’ll be back before you know it.”  gwangil squeezed his shoulder.  wonsang opened his mouth to protest - he knew he shouldn’t, he knew it was better this way, but still, he just wanted sangyeop - but his stomach didn’t give him a chance.  with a lurch he bent over the bucket and struggled to breathe through the mess of vomit that spilled from his mouth.  somehow, impossibly, the nausea increased and he retched desperately before bringing up more barf.  gwangil dabbed a wet rag against his skin and coolness of it was a small comfort.

“you’re okay,” yechan said sadly.  whispered.  yechan whispering twice in one day?  wonsang would have laughed if he didn’t feel so awful.  instead he shook his head.  he didn’t feel okay at all.  he squeezed yechan’s hand and doubled over to be sick again.  by then, there was very little left in his stomach and most of what came out was a the harsh sound of his throat trying to reject air.  it hurt, but he had no control over his body.  finally, a thin stream of bile splashed into the bucket and wonsang took a deep breath.  he nearly gagged again at the smell and turned his head away.

“are you done?”  gwangil asked quietly, immediately removing the disgusting bucket of sick when wonsang nodded.  he leaned heavily against yechan, grateful as the older boy stayed quiet and simply began petting his hair.  a moment after gwangil left, sangyeop returned, looking only a tad green.  tears sprung to wonsang’s eyes again.

“you left—“ his voice cracked.  sangyeop looked devastated.

“i know, baby, i’m so sorry.  i didn’t want to make a bigger mess…” he trailed off, lips curving up gently as wonsang pouted and made grabby hands at the older boy.  he slid into the small bed next to wonsang and cuddled up close.  “there,” he whispered.  “better?”

wonsang made an incomprehensible but clearly affirmative noise and sangyeop’s smile grew.  the sick boy was already asleep.  yechan started squirming under the weight of wonsang’s head, but a single glare from sangyeop stopped him.

“i can’t stay here forever!”  he whined softly, hands in the air.  gwangil, who had joined them at the foot of the bed, giggled.  yechan eyed him.  “what?”

“nothing, it’s just… you wouldn’t have let him lay on you in the first place if you didn’t mind it, hyung.  you’re a lot cuter when you’re pretending to be annoyed than when you actually are.”

yechan stuck out his tongue.  “just wait and see who’s annoyed when we all get sick, brat.”

sangyeop snorted.  “you two aren’t making any sense.”

and, well, they couldn’t really say anything to that.

——

*yenevara is a production team including jo/cho wonsang from LUCY, park jihwan (he recently did a cover of my favorite polyphia song on his insta and i—), and o.yeon (she’s so smol and so talented)

note: i don’t love the way this fic turned out, if i’m being honest, but i think it’s just a matter of getting used to writing for another group.  hopefully my next lucy fic turns out better XD

——

feel free to send asks!

[theprodigypenguin]

👀 (I hope it isn't closed yet, love you! 💙)

It’s an end of the year game so I guess it’s open till the end of the year (or until I run out of WIPs, ya know?). Thank you for the Raven-heart! This is from a Jeddy that I initially wanted to be one of those semi-cliche fuck-or-die fics, just to test my abilities and play around with their characters. Never got to the “fuck” part of the fic cuz smut and I have a bad relationship SO this is what I have to share~ This was also written back before I’d decided James was smol in my headcanon, so he’s semi-tall in the oof.

Most of what Teddy did was assess the properties of certain objects in order to pass them along to the more diverse segments of the Department. When something unusual came in, he had to figure out if it pertained to Love, Time, Death, or any other mysterious magic, or if it was harmless enough to send up to the top floors of the Ministry for the rest of the workers to deal with.

In the months he’d been working there, Teddy had seen it all. A teapot that had been tampered with that they’d sent up to the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts department, a Muggle broom that a young wizard had accidentally infused with magic because he wanted to fly already, among more dangerous items. Broken time turners that still had a bit of magic in them and needed to be disposed of properly, a vial of smoky green liquid that nearly made Harry vomit when he looked at it, and their most recent discovery.

They’d deduced that the item wasn’t dangerous or toxic in any immediate way, so Teddy’s supervisor had given him authorization to bring it home for further research and an order to get some rest and eat something other than caffeine. It was an unusual artifact, that was certain.

Like most of the relics stored in the Department of Mysteries, this one didn’t look imposing or dangerous at all. Found in the cellar of an old Death Eater who’d recently passed, sitting on a pillow of black velvet set into a stained mahogany box with a glass inlaid lid that allowed viewing of the item within without opening.

It was a deep scarlet red in color, roughly three feet in length, but folded carefully, a thin ribbon with lightly frayed ends. No, it didn’t look dangerous at all, but when Teddy set his fingertips against the box, he could feel the magic, the power, that made his fingers almost burn. They didn’t know what it was, what it was supposed to do, who made it or why. So Teddy had taken it home, grabbed every book he could on magic infused cloth and clothes, and settled down in his living room. That’s where he was sitting when the floo came to life, flames lashing up before spitting out five foot seven inches of Quidditch Chaser with a cocky grin.

“Evening Teddy!”

Teddy lifted his eyes from the faded pages of an old journal about weaving protective spells into wizard robes, greeting James with a smile of his own.

“Hey, what are you doing here? I thought you had practice today?”

“Mate it’s nearly midnight.”

“What?” Teddy slowly closed the journal. “What are you doing at my house at midnight? Did something happen? Are you okay? Is Harry okay?”

James just laughed. “Calm down, everything’s fine. We haven’t heard from you in days is all, and last time that happened you passed out in the middle of the Ministry, so dad and aunt ‘Mione asked me to come check in on you. Dad probably would have, you know how he is, but he’s been busy too. I said I’d stop by.”

“You didn’t have to do that,” Teddy chided, setting the book down on the coffee table and trying not to feel endeared at the fact James was worried about him. “I’m alright.” 

“Sure mate, I believe you,” James said, stopping on the other side of the coffee table with his hands up, “but that’s just me. Dad on the other hand sent me with a list,” and he reached down, pulling out a folded paper from the front pocket in his jeans and holding it up with his usual flare that had Teddy snorting.

“You’re kidding me.”

“Not even a little.”

“You don’t need to-”

“Stuff it Tedward, I had to sit through it while dad told me what to write down, you have to sit through it too.” James cleared his throat. “Item number one, have you eaten?”

“Please tell me this is a joke.”

“Should I mark it no?”

“I’ve eaten.”

“Have you properly hydrated? Those are the exact words he used, Ted.”

“Yes.”

“Have you bathed?”

“Yes.”

“Changed into clean clothes?”

“Yes.”

“Rested? He means sleep by the way, have you actually slept?”

“Yes.”

“Are you lying?”

“No, James gimme that.” Teddy stood and grabbed the paper from him, shaking his head at the list that had at least ten more items in it. “Guy blacks out one time in the food court and it’s the apocalypse.”

“You can’t blame them. I’m worried too.”

Teddy almost thought better of looking at James, but his curiosity won him over and he looked up from the paper to meet the intense brown eyes that always seemed to make it hard for him to breathe. Honestly, did this this idiot know what he did to Teddy?

“This job of yours is really debilitating, it drains you more than any job you’ve ever had before. You already blacked out once because you pushed yourself too hard, and the work itself is some of the most dangerous in the entire Ministry. We’re worried about you.”

“It only drains me because I’m not fully used to it yet.” Teddy was quick to defend, setting the paper on the coffee table and holding his hands up. “I’m getting better. I really like this job, Jamie, I’m doing good work and learning amazing stuff. Sure I may have completely lost consciousness while standing and slept three days straight because I hadn’t taken a break or even a nap in six days, but I’m much better at managing my time now, and my supervisor has been keeping an eye on me-”

“Yea, yea, yea.” James waved a hand, looking away. “I believe you, Lupin. So are you going to offer me some tea or coffee? Some snacks maybe?”

Teddy shrugged and turned. “Of course, make yourself at home,” he had a half smile on his lips as he made his way towards the kitchen. “You practically live here anyway.”

“I’d apologize but I’m not sorry!” James called after, and Teddy laughed.

“I should get you a key to the front door already. How’s your work been? How’s training?”

“Exhausting, but it can’t be worse than what your dumbass is doing.”

There was a pause as Teddy pulled down a tin of tea from the cupboard, setting it on the counter before going back for coffee mugs. There was a half pot of burnt coffee sitting to the side, but Teddy wasn’t going to send James home hyped off caffeine, and he himself needed to sleep soon anyway, it was midnight after all, so tea it would be.

“Just got the last pieces of my required uniform,” James picked up again, and Teddy hummed, even though James probably couldn’t hear him. “Still not crazy on the colors, but I guess they’ll do.”

“Just remember to keep an eye out when you’re playing,” Teddy warned. “The Falcons are famous for playing rough, and National games are more violent than Hogwarts anyway.”

“I already know that, Teddy, you don’t have to baby me about it,” there was a high to his tone, annoyance, but Teddy wasn’t surprised.

He was only eighteen, but James had developed a kind of complex about people noting his young age. He was technically an adult after all, he even had a job, and was searching for a place to stay so he could move out of his parents house and be independent. Teddy was proud of him, but his worry wasn’t spurred by a misguided belief that James was somehow still just a baby. Teddy just worried about everyone.

Still, it seemed like he must have offended James somehow, so he sighed, pouring hot water into the two mugs and thinking of what to say to apologize as he balanced them in his hands and started back for the living room.

“Hey, Jamie, you know I’m not warning you because I think you’re a kid. You’re young, but you’re grown enough,” Teddy started, eyes down to keep himself from spilling. “I just don’t want to see you hurt, okay? I don’t know what I’d do if something happened…”

“Ted…,” James’ voice was soft. “I know, Teddy. I’m sorry, I just… I know.”

Teddy shook his head. “Never mind that. How’s everything else been? How are Lily and Albus?”

James was starting a response when Teddy finally stopped and lifted his head from the cups of tea. The younger man was saying something about Lily getting in a fistfight and chopping her hair off before the Hogwarts semester, but Teddy didn’t hear him as the sound of water roared into his ears, and his tedious attempts to not spill any hot water became insignificant as he dropped both cups. One shattered on the floor, the second broke on the coffee table and soaked several important looking documents, but Teddy was focused entirely on James.

He was gaping at Teddy in shock, there was an open box on the table, and the red ribbon Teddy had been studying was hanging in James’ right hand.

“Ted, fuck, are you okay?! Did you burn yourself?”

“James,” Teddy carefully, slowly raised his hands, his posture cautious, eyes locked on the ribbon like it was an explosive. “Jamie. James. What did you do?”

“What?” James’ worry had faded to puzzlement. “Do?”

“That thing…”

“Oh, right, it was just sitting here-”

“James what have I fucking told you about touching shit in my house?”

James looked dumbfounded, morphing to a blend of irritation and panic, because Teddy never talked like that. “What are you going off for? It’s just some stupid ribbon!”

“That is an artifact from work, James, it’s dangerous!”

“Why’s it on your fucking coffee table?!”

“I was researching it to figure out what the bloody hell it was!”

“You don’t even know what it is?!”

“No, James, that’s why they gave it to me, to figure it the fuck out!”

“Well fuck, am I gonna fucking die?!”

“Why would I know that, you dumbass?!” Teddy took a sharp breath in, running his hands through his hair, staring at the ribbon hanging innocently between James’ fingers. “Okay don’t panic-”

“That’s exactly what you say to make people panic!”

“Can it! Let me think! Maybe you can just …  just put it back, maybe it’s not as powerful as I thought. Maybe it’s just the box that’s magic infused and the ribbon is just… just a ribbon. Yea, this is fine, just don’t move, okay?”

Teddy shifted around, side stepping closer to the coffee table and reaching down to pick up the box, standing slowly as he lifted it.

“Okay, slowly, place it back onto the pillow.”

“Wait if the box is what’s magic should you be touching it?”

“We’re well past that, Jamie, just put it in the box.”

James inhaled shakily as he held his right wrist in his left hand like he was bracing against a spell, easing the ribbon down towards the box as Teddy raised the box up to meet him. They were both holding their breath, and when James had the last piece of the ribbon sitting in the box, they breathed a sigh of relief, looking at each other and laughing anxiously.

James cursed. “You prick, I really thought I might die for a minute there.”

Teddy laughed. “Actually I was worried about that too, but it seems everything is fine no-”

The universe didn’t even let Teddy finish before proving him wrong. The box in his hand seemed to burn, and he cursed as he released it, but when it fell and clattered against the coffee table, the ribbon hovered. It moved like it was possessed, both ends flinging out like it was a living thing. Teddy cursed colorfully in both English and Welsh as the strip of cloth that looked so silky smooth before wound around his wrist like a vice of course fraying rope that burned into his skin.

James was in the same boat, yelping as the ribbon wrapped itself around his left wrist and arm, winding tight around both of them like it was a Boa Constrictor, only letting up when they’d been yanked closer together. Then it stopped, but one pull at it told Teddy all he needed to know. They were stuck like this.

“Oh Merlin…”

“What?!” James yanked on his right arm, eyes wide and cheeks flush. “What happened?!”

“I don’t know, stop moving!” Teddy reached over with his right hand to stop James, flexing the fingers of his left hand that was bound to James’ right. “Shit, it’s not letting up.”

“Okay, I’m not freaked out by this or anything, but are we gonna die?”

“I… I don’t know. Just don’t panic.”

“No of course, why would anyone panic in this situation?”

“I told you to put it down, I have told you countless times that if you were going to visit, that you couldn’t just touch everything!”

“Well don’t just yell at me about it! How was I supposed to know?! It was a ribbon in a bloody box! I thought it was just a decoration!”

“James why in the name of Godric would I have a ribbon in a box decorating my bloody coffee table?!”

“You’re a weird guy, Teddy, I don’t know what you do in your free time, the oddities you might collect, maybe you like to display vintage ribbons, I’m not judging!”

“Would you shut up?!” Teddy snapped. “Just let me think!”

James listened, kept his lips tightly sealed as he glared anxiously at the ribbon around his wrist and arm. Teddy did his best to assess the situation, tugging at the material and sighing. Whatever this thing was, it had wrapped around his wrist before winding down his arm to his elbow. His left arm was now bound to James’ right, where he was in the same situation with the ribbon. It seemed magically stuck, it wouldn’t loosen or come away, even the ends that hung at their elbows wouldn’t peel up.

“Alright. There’s procedures we have to take when something like this happens,” Teddy explained, his right hand still holding the ends of the ribbon. “Come around the table, stand next to me so we aren’t leaning awkwardly towards each other.”

James shuffled on his feet to get around the table, standing shoulder to shoulder with Teddy and slowly sitting down together as Teddy continued to eye the stupid thing.

“Alright, are you in any pain?” James shook his head. “Is the material burning you or itching or-”

“There’s no pain, I can’t even feel it,” James insisted. “I just can’t move it.”

“Me either,” Teddy sighed, leaning back. James slumped back with him, unable to do much else, their arms hanging between them as they both stared dumbstruck at the wall.

Teddy could feel the back of his hand pressed against James, could feel the warmth of his skin, in fact it was almost too warm, but that probably was just him. Touching, being close to James like this, was something he tried to avoid. Teddy had a good handle on his self control for the most part, but he’d be lying if he said there weren’t moments he nearly grabbed James by the face and kissed him in front of everyone.

He could’ve been magically glued to anyone else and it would have been fine. Why did it have to be the one person he’d been crushing hard on since he was seventeen, left Hogwarts, and claimed he was going to be more famous a Quidditch player than his mum had been, with the air and confidence of a man who’d already won the World Cup?

“So what do we do?” James asked. “Got some scissors lying around this mess somewhere?”

“Jamie I really don’t think scissors are going to win this match.”

“Worth a shot.”

Teddy wanted to argue, but at this point what other choice did they have? Teddy knew next to nothing about this thing, so maybe all they had to do was snip it?

“They’re in the kitchen,” Teddy said, standing and hauling James up with him, stepping over the shattered porcelain tea cups. “Watch the cups.”

“Sorry about that tea.”

“There are more important things.”

The scissors didn’t work. In fact, when Teddy started to cut at the ribbon, the scent of burning metal overwhelmed them both, and he lifted the scissors up to reveal the ribbon had essentially eaten into and melted the blades.

“Scissors are a no go,” James muttered. “What about… wands?”

“You want me to try magically cutting this thing off? I could miss and cut you, or it could bounce off the ribbon-”

“Teddy what else are we supposed to do in this situation?!”

“Not freak out!” Teddy ran his hand through his hair again, then groaned. “Damn it. I’ve spent hours studying this stupid thing and I still haven’t got a clue what it is. We need to go back to the Ministry.”

“What for?” 

“My boss might know more about this kind of thing. Magic infused cloth, and it… somehow is capable of binding people together. It doesn’t hurt, but it won’t let go. Merlin’s sake.”

“Dad’s gonna kill me,” James lamented, staring at the ribbon. “If I miss practice my captain’s gonna kill me too.”

Teddy could only sigh in silent agreement.

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #272

“i don’t care what you have to say - it makes no difference / it’s all because of you, we’re fuckin’ infamous.”

How many children are in your family? I have a big extended family, so uh... and what is the age cutoff for "children?" My simplest answer is three, that being my older sister's kids, but I do have a half-sister with some young-ish children, but I know none of them. Oh, and my other half-sister has kids too, but again, they're not that young, and the youngest son I've never met. What is something you and your parents used to argue over often? Money. What was your first word? "Dada." A fast food restaurant that you hate with a passion? Arby's is fucking disgusting. Give me a song that is underestimated/not well known. Probably like half of Otep's songs. "Lords of War" comes to mind first. Which one of your friends knows everything about you? Sara knows the most. Who is your favorite teacher that you have this year? N/A Have you ever solved a Rubik’s Cube? No, I don't have that kind of patience. Like I've fiddled with 'em before if they're right at my disposal and I'm just sitting and waiting or something, but I've never gotten far. Who do you think is the easiest to talk to? It depends on what I'm talking about, but probably Sara. Or Mom, idk. Do you have a favorite metal band or do you not like metal? Ozzy, of course. Metal is my favorite genre. Are you talking to anyone right now? No. What’s your favorite kind of science? Genetics. Do you walk home or take a bus? From school? Well I'm not in school anymore, but for almost the entire time I was, my mom drove me and picked me up. I only took a bus for some of Jason's junior and all of his senior year to his house afterwards. Who did you last go to the movies with? My dad, I think. If you could see anyone (dead or alive) in concert, who would you pick? I'd probably choose Metallica so long as my mom could come. She laughed/cried hysterically when she found out they were finally coming here I think two years ago, but we couldn't go. She fucking adores Metallica, maybe more than I do Ozzy. She's always said that she only needs three things in life: God, her babies, and Metallica. Who’s the cutest person you know? Define "cute." The cutest fucking thing I have EVER seen was Sara when we went to a reptile expo together; she was a kid in Willy Wonka's Chocolate Factory. I could not stop smiling at her, jc. "Cute" as in who I feel most fits the traditional definition, my old friend Alon. I think I'll always answer "Alon" to questions like this lmao. How about the funniest? GIRT. Oh my FUCKING god, Girt. I've had my biggest and most frequent laughs with that guy. Have you ever had acne? I sure did going through puberty. It wasn't the worst in the world, but I definitely had it. Where is your biggest scar located? I think the scar from my surgery, but I can't see it so I can't *really* tell? Look up what a pilonidal cyst is to figure out where that's at, oof. Where did your last hug take place? A hotel room. Recently, Mom, my sisters, and I saw my grandmother for probably the last time. She was with her husband and Mom's brother passing through. She's quit chemo for pancreatic cancer as now it's just become unbearable, and it's obvious she doesn't have much time left. It was... weird, seeing her in such a skin-and-bone, very frail state. We've had a rocky relationship, but I'm going to miss her regardless. What is your current desktop picture? My favorite picture of Teddy. Do you still think of that Gwen Stefani song when you spell "bananas?" HA HA yes! Do you like the way your hair naturally is, or do you change it? I love how healthy my hair is, but I'm definitely not a fan of how quickly it becomes oily. And I wish it knew how to hold some damn dye. Do you know anyone who died accidentally by doing something stupid? Not personally, but yes. How many different languages have you taken in school? First I took Latin, but I SUCKED at it, and then I took German for four semesters and loved it. If your cell phone broke, would your parents make you pay for a new one? No, considering I don't have a source of income. Are your parents still married? No. Are you in a monogamous relationship? Not currently, but I'd only go into one that's monogamous. Have you ever met your favorite band? No. Have you ever drawn on someone's face while they were sleeping? No, I'm not an asshole. Have you ever fallen down a hill? No, but I've certainly rolled down them as a kid. Would you scuba dive in shark-infested waters if you had the chance? I hate the term "shark-infested." It's where they live. But anyway, I don't think I'd swim with sharks, but maybe. What is your favorite slow song? BRO idk there's so many. Do you believe in karma? No. If there were aliens on earth, would you be afraid? It would depend on their demeanor. If your best friend died, would you be able to speak at their funeral? I'd sure as hell want to, but I'd have a hard time getting through it. Are your pets asleep? Roman is probably snoozing by the window in the living room, and Venus probably is, given she's nocturnal. Have you ever wished you were an only child? No. Have you ever hurt someone on purpose? As a kid I got in huge trouble for smacking my sister before. As an adult I haven't. What is your current favorite song? I'm pretty obsessed with NateWantsToBattle's cover of "Feel Good Inc." Is there something you do on a regular basis, that you don’t enjoy doing? Why? The person I copied this from answered "shower" and big same. Like of course I do it, but boy do I hate it. It's a chore to me and especially when I'm depressed, I'll put it off. Have you ever felt jealous of anyone else’s success? Yes. When it comes to success, I can be very envious. Never in a hateful way/wishing the person wasn't where they were at, but nevertheless, still envious. Who did you last speak to in person? Mom. Have you ever had a one-night stand? If you have, did you regret it afterwards? Never had one, don't plan to. Have you ever done something that you said you’d NEVER do? Yes. What was the last thing you asked for help with? Who did you go to for help? Uhhh... probably something from Mom, though I don't remember what. I've avoided that since she's recovering from surgery. Who was the last person to text you? Sara! If your significant other had several other sexual partners before you, how much would that bother you? Would you worry about being compared to the others? How many previous sexual partners do you think is acceptable? If they were serious relationships genuinely based on love, it wouldn't - to a degree. I have to be honest with myself and say like if my s/o had a large number of past sexual partners at our age, I'd be wary about their loyalty and dedication to one person. Idk what I'd consider "too many" exactly. For me, maybe like... six? Who was the last person of the opposite sex to send you a message on Facebook? What if you had a baby with that person? My friend Ian, and whoa buddy, we're just above acquaintances. How many people of your preferred sex have hurt you? Just one seriously. Have your friends ever talked to you about the forms of contraception they use? What form of contraception do you prefer? It's been casually mentioned, sure. I'm not sexually active so don't take any right now, but if I was, I'd be on birth control and demand condom usage because FUCK the chances of getting pregnant. If you told your parents that you were going to be a parent, how do you think they would react? I think they'd both be terrified for me. I have NO business raising a kid when I'm barely a proper adult. They'd also be confused as fuck about who the dad would be. You find out that the person you love/like is having a child with someone else. What do you say? If I found out somehow that Jason was going to be a dad, I can 100% GUARANTEE you I would faint, vomit, and have an emotional breakdown. Literally all three. I wouldn't be able to "say" anything. If I found out Sara was, I'd be pretty speechless and beyond terrified for her. When was the last time you said something and thought “Why the hell did I say that?” What exactly did you say, and who did you say it to? How did the person react? Hm. It's funny, I'm both very impulsive with what I can say if I'm upset or angry, but otherwise I seriously think twice about what's coming out of my mouth. I can't remember the last time the former happened. NO WAIT. So my chronic nightmares/terrors, right? A few days ago I woke up from one growling, "I'll break your fucking neck too, bitch," and it was to my very own mother, as she was choking me for some reason I don't remember. I was disgusted when I woke up. In these nightmares, I am SO much more aggressive than I actually am and it really scares me. It's gotten to the point that I'm genuinely scared of what I may be capable of. Who was the last person outside of family that told you they loved you? Sara. What song reminds you of your first boyfriend/girlfriend? My first real one, holy fucking shit, a lot. For where we currently stand, "Another Life" by Motionless In White haunts me. Not only is it his favorite band, but the lyrics just scream him and me. It's one of those that sometimes makes me tear up. I hate that I love that song. Outside of family, who were the last three girls you talked to? Sara, Summer, and Chelsea, I think. Outside of family, who were the last three guys you talked to? Uhhh Ian, my grandma's husband (he's not my actual grampa), and my sister's husband, probably, or nephew. Who is/was your strictest teacher in school? Mrs. P-something in 7th grade. I didn't not like her, she was just very strict. Have you ever felt so ill that you literally didn’t know what to do? Oh yeah, emotionally at least. At your part of the world, is it summer now? Yes, ew. What’s the warmest it can get over there? How about the coldest? Around 110*F; coldest, around... sub-20*F on rare days. Is there a bad habit you’re trying to break right now? I need to lay off the soda. Is it easy to find a job in your preferred field in your home town? FUCK no. Have you ever played the original Mass Effect trilogy? Nope. Have you ever made jewelry? The kiddy kinds with beads and stuff, yeah. Which app do you use the most on your phone? Umm Facebook or Dragons of Atlantis. Did you learn to play an instrument as a kid? If so, which one? In elementary school, we all learned the recorder. From middle school to my junior high school year, I played the flute. What is the best part of your most ordinary day? I don't even know anymore. If you learned that you suddenly needed an aid of some sort to do something that you normally don’t need (glasses, hearing aid, etc.) Would you comply or would you put it off until there was no choice anymore? It would definitely depend on the issue and its severity. What’s the strangest saying you’ve come across? Please tell me it's not just the South that says "it's colder than a witch's titty" lmao. Do you read any web comics? No. Which social media platform do you use the most, if any? Facebook. Which game did you play the most as a kid during recess? Does anyone remember "Four Square?" I don't even remember the rules, but my friends and I played it all the time. Are you one of those lucky people to own a walk-in closet? No, not that I need one honestly. Is there a random object you own that has a huge personal significance? I’ve told the story of my pebble from my partial hospitalization program many times. Besides that, something really random? Uhhh. There’s probably something, seeing as a lot of the things I keep mean something deep to me, but I don’t know about another truly strange one. Are you one of those people who chew two pieces of gum, not one? Usually. Do you have a wall calendar? In the kitchen. Have you ever been to Canada? No, but totally serious, I want to move there. I just realistically won’t because I don’t want to leave my family. Do you believe in superstitions? Nope. When was the last time you took a taxi somewhere? I’ve never been in a taxi. Would you ever join the army, airforce or navy? Hell no. How old is the person you last kissed? 22. What was the most embarrassing thing you've had to buy? Nothing. Have you ever mistaken a person's gender? Yes. What was the most expensive thing you've broken? I don’t know. Have you ever been in a car accident? Yes, but thankfully it wasn’t severe. Can you focus well in high-stress situations? FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK NO. Without the aid of mascara, do you have long eyelashes? Yes. I think I’ve shared before that in 9th grade, my teacher like deadass stopped her lecture just to point that out lmaoo. Is there anyone you dread going into public with? Not generally. It can sometimes happen with Dad just because he’s brutally honest and doesn’t have a filter, but it’s more like a discomfort than dread. Are you easily frightened? It depends on the situation. In most instances, yes. Do you have a favorite model? No. What's your current facebook display picture of? It’s just a headshot of me with my skull necklace and a tank top. Is there anyone whose hair you envy? Peoples’ whose actually hold color. >_> Have you ever dated someone who was extremely shy? No, I’m the shy one. Or have you dated someone who took things too fast? Yes. Do you or anyone you know have an account on Deviantart? I have one, and I know a few other people who do. Do you listen to Daughtry? Not really, except “No Surprise.” Do you get your eyebrows waxed? Not anymore. Is there a pet that you desperately want? A tarantula, preferably a Brazilian Black. I’ve gotten soooo into tarantulas, but it’s a “hell no” from Mom about having one in her house. Would you ever get your bellybutton pierced? No. My stomach isn’t “pretty” and I know it sure wouldn’t look flattering. Are you one of those people who are always pushing their limits? I wish I could say yes. Have you ever made a totally amazing snow fort? No. I didn’t have the patience for that as a kid. All we really made out of snow were snowmen and balls to throw. If you draw, what's one thing you always have trouble with? Proportions. Is there someone you know moving away any time soon? I don’t believe so. Is there a garbage can in the room you’re currently in? No. Have you ever been snorkeling? No. Who was the last person you apologized to? Mom, probably. Do you throw things when you’re frustrated? No. People who throw shit scare me. Do you prefer sharks or dolphins? Dolphins. Before meerkats, they were my favorite animal. What was the last piece of furniture you purchased? Purchased, I don’t know. A lot of what we have now is second-hand. Has anyone ever told you that you are too picky when it comes to the people you date? What about not picky enough? No one has said either. When was the last time you went to a bar? Never. What three things would you change about your life? Number one, be mentally stable. Two, my body. Three, be financially stable. Was there anything unusual or unique about your birth? There was an ice storm that Dad had to drive through lmao. What was the best conversation you’ve had recently? Man, idk. I don’t talk a lot to begin with. What is the next book you are going to read? Wings of Fire: The Dark Secret should come in the mail today!! :’) Describe the hardest decision you have ever made. I had to choose to either let Jason go or keep him in my heart until it killed me/I killed myself. I can almost 100% absolutely promise you if my life was continued how it was in 2016, I would NOOOOOOOT still be here. I think it’s pretty clear by now some scars are buried too deep to heal, seeing as he is literally faintly on my mind every day, but at least I know how to be happy without someone who didn’t believe in my strength. Why did you last see the doctor? I thought I broke my foot. Turns out I just tore a ligament, but badly. I think it’s been… one and half-two months and it’s only JUST starting to feel truly better. Day one, I couldn’t even walk. Days after, I had to have help. Then for weeks it was nothing but walking at a snail’s pace on the side of my foot. I’m so surprised it wasn’t broken. Post a recent picture of yourself. WOW what timing considering I took a picture yesterday, and I barely ever take any. I EVEN PUT MAKEUP ON!!!

[blushingjared]

Cherry Flavored Whiskey

We Get What We Deserve CH. 1: Cherry Flavored Whiskey (Rockstar! Dean Winchester x Reporter! Reader) 

Square(s) Filled: Tattoos for @spnkinkbingo , Lust for @spndeanbingo , and Growling/Whining for @spnabobingo Ship: Rockstar! Alpha! Dean x Reporter! Omega! Reader Characters: Lead Singer! Dean, Reporter! Reader, OMC, Manager! Crowley, Bass Player! Sam (mentioned), Drummer! Castiel (mentioned) Rating: Explicit Warnings: Tattoo Kink, A/B/O Dynamics, drinking, drugs, Oral (male receiving), Dom! Dean, Also Bon Jovi (in case you don’t like the music) Word Count: 7.7k words (oof I know...) Beta’d by: @impandagrl

Summary: Dean Winchester has been compared to the Rock Gods of old. He’s rebellious, gorgeous as hell, and an amazing musician. Times have become tough for his band though and with no one else to turn to, he decides to go solo. His manager wants to spread the word, so he offers Common Measure, the magazine you work at, an exclusive interview with Dean. Knowing you need to prove yourself, you offer to perform it. 

We Get What We Deserve Masterlist

A/N: This is heavily inspired by the movie Rock of Ages and Tom Cruise’s character (I save heavily when really most of this is lifted straight from it). I absolutely love the tattoos from it (reference in the upper right hand corner of the banner) and so this Fic was born. I am in love with the song Wanted Dead or Alive and I hope y’all enjoy my longest fic to date. Let me Know if you want to be tagged in this series!

“Y/N! Get in here!” A voice screamed out for you as you picked your head up. You’d had your nose buried in your work, but being yelled at seemed to refocus you to the present. You quickly collected the few stacks of paper on your desk and rushed towards your boss's office.

Your boss, Thomas Gallagher, ran Common Measure, a pop culture and music industry magazine centered in the hub of it all, LA. Being his assistant wasn’t easy, he was constantly looking over your shoulder, making you scramble to reach the deadlines he set and  had you attempting to get exclusive interviews for the good of the magazine. All the while, you were trying to learn how to be a better reporter.

It was your dream after all. Working for a publication like Common Measure. You’d ached to be in the center of gossip and learn what was really going on behind the people that everyone always looked up to. Most would call what you wanted to do harmful. All you wanted to do was get to the bottom of a story. That’s what mattered, the story.

“Yes, sir?” You squeaked as the man swiveled around to face you in the giant chair behind his desk. The weight of the paper stacks that you had grabbed making your arms ache with exertion. This job was harder than you had initially expected and you half wished you had listened to your mother’s warnings more closely.

She hated that you wanted to escape the boring life that was planned for you as an Omega. You needed more, you needed to be able to choose your own path, and right now, that didn’t include an Alpha.

Thomas reached forwards and opened his desk drawer to slide a CD towards you. You recognized the artist, Dean Winchester;rockstar, playboy, and public rebel. “I need you to get an interview for me.” Your eyes went wide as he spoke. “Dean’s decided to go solo.” The news shocked you.

Team Free Will, a band made up of Dean Winchester, his brother Sam, and Castiel Novak had been formed almost a decade ago. While the group wasn’t nearly as popular as it had been in recent years, the more pressing issue was the fact that your boss was asking you to handle such an important assignment on your own- and as your first interview for the company.

“Sir? Are-are you sure? I mean this-“ Thomas’s voice cut you off.

“If I had any other option besides you, I’d be sending them in there, but none of my other reporters will go. He’s got a reputation for uh…sleeping around with the press.” He cleared his throat and looked up at you. “And the other half complain he’s too hard to work with, which is why I’m sending you.” He smirked, standing up and stepping towards you.

“I understand, sir, but still…I’d need time to research and- and..” You trailed off as your boss sat on the edge of his desk. Never in your life would you have dreamed of giving up a story. This was the opportunity of a lifetime

“You’ll have time. Team Free Will is performing at The Roadhouse next week as the start of the band’s farewell tour. You’ll go then. If you can get a good interview out of him, I’ll promote you to a real journalist Y/N..”

Words formed in your mouth but none left. It’s impossible. He was dangling the golden apple right in your face; giving you everything you wanted. All you have to do is complete an impossible task.

“Okay sir. I’ll do it.”

After a week of research on Dean Winchester, you’d come to the conclusion that the man had to be going insane. Despite having sold out shows, none of his current work had been doing any chart topping. And to make matters worse, the band hadn’t released a full album in at least two years. You could only assume it was because Dean had been growing ever increasingly harder to work with. Story after story came up with how Dean would show up to sessions drunk, high, or with the random guy or girl of the day. He would spend thousands of dollars a day on his life philosophy about “knowing yourself” as he would say it.

Born and raised in Kansas, he had a rough home life growing up. An absent mother and a more than likely abusive father, Dean seemed to have only one family member that he still kept in touch with, his baby brother. He had left home when Sam turned 18 and brought along his high school sweetheart, Lisa Braden.

Dean began playing covers of classic rock bands with Sam in his mid 20’s before adding Castiel Novak to the group four years later. Not only was Dean able to play the guitar, but he also played piano, drums, bass and sang (although when the group performed he stuck to guitar and vocals). Sam played bass and back up vocals, while Castiel rounded them out with drums.

At some point after the band’s first original album, that high school sweetheart seemed to disappear, only to be replaced by an endless string of lovers that couldn’t resist a Rock God Alpha, alcohol and drugs. While there was a period of 5 good years, the other half of the band’s decade had been filled with mediocre hit after mediocre hit.

It was obvious Dean had grown out of favor with the public, but Dean couldn’t let that stand, even to the point of going solo and picking fights with his bandmates, Sam included. He needed to be in the spotlight, otherwise he’d have to actually think about what he’d done in his life. While you’d known some of those details already, no one had put them together in a way you had.

Now, standing in line outside the Roadhouse, you felt fully prepared for this interview. You'd had your concerns that being here, where Team Free Will had played their first concert would be daunting. Instead, you had a focused drive to rip the man's life story from him.

What had to be thousands of fans had lined up around the outside of the small bar. Bulky security guards stood around them, holding back hoards of screaming fans. Mostly Omegas by the smell. You crinkled your nose at the scents of sweat and slick. It almost made you want to vomit.

A large security guard opened the door and asked to see your pass. You raised the Press Pass that was dangling around your neck and tilted it towards him. He grunted and nodded his head, indicating she could enter. A second guard walked up to you soon after. “I’m here to take you to the green room, Miss Y/L/N.” You gave the man a soft nod before falling behind him.

Crowley MacLeod stood outside the double doors that must have been the entrance to the greenroom. He offered you a smile, though it felt ice cold. You knew the man was Dean’s Manager. A harsh and ruthless individual and though he was always ahead of the curve on what the music industry was looking for, never really cared about what it actually meant to be a musician.

“Miss Y/L/N I presume.” He extended his hand towards you and after a moment, you took his hand in a firm grasp and shook.  While most accents seemed to put people at ease, Crowley’s only made you shiver. “It’s always a pleasure to work with Common Measure.” The man held your hand a little too long for your liking, but eventually he let go. Turning around, he pushed open the doors and walked into the room.

A wave of sex hit you, the smell was so bad that it physically made you stumble. Once you’d straightened up, you tugged your bag closer to your chest, hoping it would ground you. Not long after that, the tell tale odor of weed hit you next. Your eyes lingered on the  pool table in the center of the room, where Dean Winchester lay.

An omega woman up on the table with him, lying legs extended, legs extended for Dean to place his head on, a  cowboy hat placed over his face. Four Omegas, two women and two men, stood by the bar, huddled around another man making them all drinks. It took every last cell in your body not to roll your eyes, but you manage to control yourself for the moment. Bottles of empty booze, food trash and a comical amount of drugs litter the room as well. It feels so damn cliche for Dean to really be as bad as what you’d been reading.

Crowley ushered you closer,  and you’re able to get a better look at his body. He’s wearing what had to be the tightest leather pants that you’d seen on a man, a matching leather jacket lays fanned out so that anyone can see his chest- seeing as he was bare underneath.

While you’d seen what his looked like before, seeing them in person was a whole other ordeal.

They were enough to make you swoon. You had to quickly check yourself before unconsciously tugging the pencil skirt you wore further down your legs. An indisputable sense of connection hit you out of nowhere. You could smell his scent from here and while the weed and smell of sex is definitely there, underneath there’s a layer of whiskey and something sweet, cherries if you had to pick something.

The most eye catching of his tattoos were the dual pistols drawn over his v-line. To onlookers, it seemed like the guns were being holstered around his belt. Over his left pec an intricate heart was drawn, the word Mary written in cursive. The first thoughts that popped into your head were something to the affect of, sexy.

You averted your eyes, while Crowley leaned forward and spoke into Dean’s ear. “Hey Dean, there’s someone here to meet you.” He turned around to look back at you, making you push your glasses up the bridge of your nose. The information didn’t seem to be too important to the Rock God as he continued to lounge on the table. Crowley gave you an awkward laugh before turning back to Dean.

“It’s Y/N Y/L/N from Common Measure. She’s got a couple questions for you to answer.” You held back a laugh as Dean continued to lay there. Of course. One of the male Omega’s behind you giggled, the other three of the pack leaned in and whispered to each other as they stared at you. You forced yourself to remember that you didn’t care what they thought, you were here to do a job.

Crowley must have finally said something that got Dean’s attention as he began to sit up. “Common Measure...” He trailed off as he moved the hat off of his face and set it aside. Dean dropped his feet to the floor and looked around before turning to face you, the sunglasses on his face, hiding his eyes. “Where’s Thomas?” His voice was gruff and full of sleep, he looked around again before looking back at Crowley.

“Thomas is a little busy, so he sent his newest reporter, Y/N. She’s here to do a report on your new solo career, Dean.” A groan fell through Dean’s lips as he turned away from you both, Crowley gripped his arm, whispering something once more that convinced Dean to do what Crowley wanted. 

After a pause, Dean slowly turned back to you; that cold, heartless smile spread across Crowley’s face. He stepped back from and clapped his hands together. “You know what? I’m gonna leave you two alone.” He began to back out from the room. “Gotta return some phone calls.” With one last wink he was gone. “Play nice!” He called out behind him.

Finally alone, well sort of, Dean gave you a proper once over. The attention made you once again lower your gaze the floor. Your tongue peeked out and ran over your bottom lip. Seconds ticked by before you  extended your hand to Dean. “Pleasure to finally meet you.”

Something about you must have bored him, because he didn’t even look at you. Your hand still stuck out, waiting for a hand shake. Before you could say something else, a high pitched scream rang out and made your head turn.

A blonde haired girl ran past the still-open doors, past the distracted security guards and right up to Dean. “Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god. I love you Dean!” The guards finally reacted to the runaway fan, but stilled as she opened up her shirt and proudly showed off the fact that she wasn’t wearing a bra underneath. 

Your eyes widened as you watched the small omega unashamedly show off her tits. Dean held up a hand to hold her off from coming any closer. Once more he looked towards you and stepped in close. He grinned as he slid his hand along your waist and into the bag hanging at your side. An almost inaudible gasp left your lips as he touched you. Warmth began to blossom through your body as he did. Dean must have found what he was looking for as he pulled out your sharpie and bit down on the cap to pull it off.

The girl began to pant heavily as Dean reached down and began to sign his name on the girl’s chest. You and the fan made eye contact for a split second, but she didn’t seem to mind the fact that another woman was watching this happen.

When you turned away, you noticed Dean’s face was turned towards you. Though you couldn’t actually tell, you were certain he had been staring right back at you the whole time. Once his name was proudly written on the womans tits, he leaned forwards and kissed the girls cheek, making the omega moan and release a distinct scent of slick. Only then did the two security guards decide to pick her up and drag her back out.

She continued to call out for Dean, though. “I love you. Love you...” Her voice echoed out. Dean spitting the cap from his mouth brought your attention back to him. You offered your hand out for the sharpie and he moved to hand it back. At the last second, he dropped it to the floor on purpose and brushed past you to sit down on one of the couches provided for him.

Wrinkling your nose in disgust, you picked up both the pen and cap, wiping away the saliva from the later before setting the /used/ item back into your bag. “Okay...you get five minutes.” Dean slumped back, arms stretched out. A sense of panic flooded your systems.

Though it wasn’t nearly enough time to get what you needed, it was the best you were going to get from him. You scrambled to pull out your voice recorder to set  on the table then grabbed a pen and your notebook filled with the list of questions you had prepared. Once sitting, you shouldered your jacket off and looked back at Dean.

“Five minutes.” He slurred as he looked at his watch. “Anndddddddddddddd…” He trailed off for a second as you waited eagerly for your time to start. “Go.”

“Okay, Dean Winchester, back at the Road-“ Dean cut you off with his voice, still looking at his watch. Confused, you waited.

“No, no, no.” He paused yet again as he looked at his watch. “Now go.” Dean gave you a soft smirk before settling back into the couch.

“A-at the Road House where it all started.” The pause had made you stumble for a moment, but you were eager to get back on track. “Your first album gave birth to some of rock’s greatest anthems and now a solo career. Why now?” You tilted your head as you waited for a response.

Dean’s eyes lingered on your voice recorder, leaning forwards to pick it up and bring it closer to his mouth. He looked relatively serious as he answered. “Well, due to the changing nature of the music industry. The changing uh...” he stuck his hand out and gave a small wave as he thought. “Cultural trends. And uh… when you think of blah, blah, blah..”

Unable to contain his smile, Dean grinned at you and started laughing as he continued. “Especially once you take in blah, blah, blah.” You sighed and sat back, unamused by his joke. Dean laughed so hard that he even let out a snort, although it was much more likely that he simply didn’t care about this interview. You’d have to push back and not be afraid to be mean to him. While daunting, yes, he was still just a man…

“Four Minutes.” Dean still laughed every so often, but extend the recorder to you, holding on to it. Giving your question list a once over, you leaned forwards to ask him your next question.

“You know,” you started, eyes narrowing at him. “Some people say that you’ve become quite difficult to work with. That you’re constantly late, reclusive, sometimes even nonsensical.” Dean pulled the recorder back towards his mouth and tilted his head as he looked at you.

“And I ask you this, have these /people/ even met themselves?” Yet, again he extended the recorder back to you. A part of you wondered if he’s doing this to try and keep control of the interview and that he’s afraid to let go of his control of every situation.

Pursing your lips together, you decided to hit him with the answer. “Well, I’m talking about your band.” A silence fell between you  before he scooted closer and looked over at you. He seemed to not believe you, perhaps because his own brother is included in that. Perhaps he couldn’t believe his brother would say that about him.

Dean pulled the recorder away and whispered. “Let me tell you something. I know me better than anyone else.” To you, he sounded more than a little defensive. “Because I live in here.” He pointed to his head, before reaching down to grab one of the bottles of scotch on the table.

He used the top of it to push the sides of his sunglasses up. Tipping his bottle to you, he looked back down at his watch. “Eight minutes.” He spoke into the recorder. It throws you because even the man's own timeline is being fucked up. Is he so drunk that he can’t keep five minutes straight in his head?

“You just said four.” You leaned forward, your anger so great it seeps into your words; the need to call him out is so overwhelming, you don't even consider taking advantage of his slip up. You had gotten absolutely nowhere with him.. You needed something about Dean Winchester to bring back.

Realizing his mistake, Dean brought the recorder back to his mouth. “Three.”

“But you..” Dean dropped the thing back down onto the table, making a loud THUD noise.

“Do you think that it’s possible that you shut out and alienated so many people in your life that you had no other option, but to go solo?” Of course, Dean wasn’t paying attention. Instead his focus is on the bottle of booze in his hand. He has it completely tipped over and poured the last drop into his mouth, giving it a little shake even, to make sure that nothing else would come out. He held it above his head for a couple more seconds before swallowing and bringing it back down.

“Gotta stay true to the music. Hey dude! Can I get some more Scotch?” He leaned to the side to catch eyes with the bartender. The man smirked and pushed a small trolley towards the both of  you, filled with what must be the most expensive alcohol you’ve ever seen.

It sits closer to you, so that Dean had to walk towards you to get it. His crotch now eye level with you and the tight leather left nothing to imagination. You could clearly see the outline of his cock and that made your face burn red. It’s more than a little hard to focus on asking him another question. He leaned forward to reach out for a bottle planting his hips squarely in front of your face and pressing forward. You had to lean away for his body not to mash into your face. Dean didn’t even seem to notice what he’s done. 

“Who is you're mu-muse?” You stumbled again as Dean popped open the top of the bottle and resumed drinking. When Dean didn’t answer, you cursed under your breath and resituated yourself in the chair. You needed to glance down at your notes to figure out where you left off in your list of questions.

“One Dean Winchester, raised in Lebanon Kansas, raised by a Mother who died when you were four and your Father who died almost 12 years ago now. You dropped out of High School in 11th grade. Your first concert was Aerosmith. And you were 22 when you hitchhiked with your little brother all the way to L.A., along with your High School Sweetheart.” All of this was information you already knew but there was a point you were trying to make. “Remember her?”

Dean’s face grew somber, his eyes focused on the bottle of scotch in his hand and he didn’t answer. “No comment?” You let a teasing tone bleed through, it was enjoyable to watch him have nothing to say. He inhaled and glanced at his watch.

“Two minutes.” His voice was soft, his teasing smile from earlier completely gone.

“Did I hit a nerve?” You smiled and sat back, enjoying the look on his face. He was close to cracking, you could tell. “Was it Aerosmith? Lebanon?” You paused as you leaned forwards to whisper to him. “High School Sweetheart?”

Dean continued to say nothing as he dropped his head, matching your gaze. You kept pushing. “Lisa Braden. Your first love. And your last hit single, it was written about her.”

His jaw clenches as the anger in him  builds before sadness hits him instead. “Record sold a hundred million copies.” He mumbles, before brings the now empty bottle to his lip. He’d sipped through it all during your talk and his eyes focused on it instead of you.

“And that record was released about eight years ago. Some people say you’ve sold out since then.” Dean growled in anger. It caught you off guard and you had to fight back the natural instinct to whine, submit to his anger and shut up. You find a way to suppress it.

“I’ve sold out, alright; every seat, every stadium I ever played.” Behind the anger, his previous untold sadness still lingered. You felt desperate to be real with him. Nothing he’d said to you so far has been true.

“And yet, creatively you’ve come to a stand still. You’ve been in and out of the studio for the past two years? And no results. Nothing.”

The two of you locked in a harsh gaze as you wondered what his eyes looked like. What color they were, what emotion he’s truly feeling behind all the makeup, leather and tattoos. You had grown to genuinely enjoy the man’s early music. A part of you could feel something you had never felt when listening to other bands music. You desperately wished that Dean would stop acting so surface deep.

Dean shrugged his shoulders and set the bottle on the table. After a glance at his watch, he stood up. “Time’s up.”

“You know, you’re not so special. You’re just a lonely man with a lot of regrets.” You fired back. Dean, instead of replying,  reached down to the recorder on the table and pressed the Stop recording button.

“I said time.” Dean sighed as he moved away from you and over to the bar. Huffing in frustration, you began to pack up your things, sliding the notebook and pen into the bag. You stared at the tape recorder for a second before standing up and pressing the record button.

“Final question. What happens when you realize you can’t get rid of Dean Winchester?” He stilled for a moment, back to you, before turning around and narrowing his eyes at you.

“You have no idea what it’s like to be me.” A calloused hand came up to his face and rubbed at his jaw. You stepped purposefully towards him.

“Well now’s your chance to tell me. What’s it like to be /the/ Dean Winchester.” Finally, as if the words resonated with him, Dean slid his sunglasses off to reveal deep forest green eyes. They’re weary and older but a hint of playfulness was still in them. A determined look filled them too, as he stepped in front of you and crooked his finger.

“I’ll show you.” He leaned in to whisper, his beard scratching along your jaw. The small pain made you jump a bit and he stepped back and motioned towards his security guards. Each man took one of your arms and carried you out to the stage where he would be performing later that night. It seemed the Technicians needed Dean for a mic check.

You are forcibly plopped into a seat near the edge. It irked you that you’d been manhandled, but if Dean was willing to talk about himself truthfully, then you were there to listen. He stepped up on the stage and narrowed his eyes as he began to sing.

“It’s all the same, only the names will change. Everyday, it seems we're wastin' away. Another place where the faces are so cold. I drive all night just to get back home.” You recognized the song. One that Dean had always been fond of and had even recorded a cover for one of their more recent albums. “I’m a cowboy, on a steel horse I ride. I’m wanted dead or alive, wanted dead or alive.”

Even though Dean was looking at you, one of the omegas from the green room moved to the stage and began to touch across his chest, even going so far as to kiss along his chest. Soon a second and third one joined in. One of the male omegas dropped to his knees and kissed the inside of Dean’s leather clad thighs.

“Sometimes I sleep, sometimes it's not for days. The people I meet always go their separate ways. Sometimes you tell the day. By the bottle that you drink, and times when you're all alone all you do is think.” Dean grabbed a bottle of scotch from the floor of the stage and took a shot of whatever was in it. He grinned as one of the girls tugged him by his belt over to her instead.

“I'm a cowboy, on a steel horse I ride. I’m wanted dead or alive, wanted dead or alive.” Four pairs of hands yanked off Dean’s jacket, revealing his torso completely to you. A surprised gasp left your lips as he turned around- only to reveal more of his tattoos. Shit. You groaned as you let your mind wander for a split second, imagining yourself on your knees for him, dragging your tongue along the pattern of each and every one of his tattoos.

You brought your thoughts back though, knowing you had to stay focused. No matter how desperately your omega side wanted to give in and let him really show you what it’s like to be a cowboy.

“I walk these streets, a loaded six-string on my back.I play for keeps 'cause I might not make it back. I been everywhere, still, I'm standing tall. I’ve seen a million faces, and I've rocked them all.” Dean finally seemed to get lost in the song. His eyes were wide as he picked up his guitar and strummed the lead guitar portion of the song. He seemed to have transported his mind somewhere else. He no longer looked in your direction, but at an undetermined spot in the distance, like he was imagining a sea of people there watching him.

In that moment, he’s relaxed. Despite the sweat gathering on his body, he seemed completely calm. Once more, you could practically feel the energy from him, but in your own skin. Pain hit you deep in your core, followed by a unmistakable sense of longing.

“I’m a cowboy, on a steel horse I ride. I’m wanted dead or alive. I’m a cowboy, I got the night on my side. I’m wanted dead or alive, and I ride, dead or alive. I still drive. Dead or alive. Dead or alive, dead or alive, dead or alive, dead or alive.” But then, just as Dean’s concentration and beautiful form is created. It’s broken by something. He’s snapped out of it and looked around as the song finished. He swallowed thickly and set down the guitar.

Dean stepped down and headed towards you once again. “Does that answer your question?” He asked and headed off, shouldering his jacket back onto his body. The security guards picked you up once more and dragged you into the green room again. You managed to shove them off and follow behind Dean on your own, feet stomping loudly as you did.

Once there, you found Dean back on the couch, beer in hand. Only this time, Crowley was there. He raised his hand and frowned when he sees how pissed off you are. “A great interview, love. Hope you got everything.”

You ignored him , stepping up right in front of Dean, anger building inside you. Where was the passion that he had on stage? Dean was nothing more than a blob of sex, drugs, and booze now. He was lifeless, dull. No wonder his albums stunk. None of his albums in recent years had come anything close to the level of passion that you had seen on that stage.

“You’re not cowboy. You’re a man child, stuck in a rut.” Dean only laughed and closed his eyes, He tipped his head back.

“Love it when you talk dirty.” Crowley stepped towards you, not liking the comments you were hurling at his star.

“You know Dean, you were great, but whatever made you that way is gone.” You don’t even have the anger to yell at him. Instead you spoke with a broken whisper.

“That’s right, just give it to me.” You realized his sunglasses aren’t there to hide the emotions that he’s really feeling at the moment. He was vulnerable to you but he doesn’t hide. He knew you’re right too.

“Now you’re just another rocker asleep at the wheel, singing the same songs you wrote ten years ago.” Crowley let out a tense laugh as you spoke.

“Okay lady. Why don’t-” But you’re not about to start caring what some dick in a suit thought about you.

“And as long as you’ve got this manager keeping you on the road and doping you up with girls and booze and-and..” You point to the bar, where the omegas have come back and are huddled against it. They all smile over at Dean.  “And million dollar record deals. He’s gonna keep you asleep and drive your career right off a cliff.”

As soon as you said it, you know you’ve gone too far. If you’re honest with yourself, you’ve become personally invested now that you know what Dean used to perform like. Something inside of you needed it to come out, even if it meant having to  bruise Dean and his manager’s ego.

“Alright, lined crossed. Let’s go.” Crowley reached forwards for your arm, but you force it out of his grip and snarl at the Beta.

“Don’t touch me.” Crowley only scoffs, but Dean looked to actually be listening to you now. No jokes, just listening. Maybe what you’d said was getting to him. “You used to write great music. Where are they now?” You plead with him for an answer. For something. This has become so much more than your editorial piece now. No, now it’s about you, asking Dean where he went. “Where’s the real Dean?”

“You know what? I’m gonna have to get your editor on the phone. You’re out of here.” Crowley pulled his phone from his jacket pocket and dialed a number. “Thomas Gallagher’s office please.”

“Get out.” Dean whispered. Your heart ached as he says that and you nodded as you backed away

“My feelings exactly. This interview is over.” With a snap of his fingers, the guards moved in and began to surround you. Dean raised a finger and moved it from you over to Crowley.

“Not her. You.” Dean’s eyes stayed locked with yours, a small squeak of happiness left your lips. It made a soft smirk fall on the rock stars lips. “Everyone but her.” He replied. A confused Crowley hangs up the phone and sighed as he left, along with the omegas, bartender, and guards. Once the door’s shut, you realized. You two are alone, more than you were comfortable with at the moment.

“You know, I think you have this sense of entitlement. Due to the fact that you’re a rock god.” It takes a second to register the fact that Dean has started to move towards you. Once he’s close enough to break your personal space bubble, you began to step back. “But it’s not real. It’s not…love.”

Dean shook his head. “It isn’t love.” He repeated. The two of you continued the dance, when Dean took one step forward, you took one step back.

“Off the record?” He breathed. Warmth from his words fanned across your face and your steps faltered before you regain yourself. You nodded yes, sparing a look down to his lips. “Sex,” he drawled the word out and you slipped down onto the couch after the back of your thighs hit against it. “And other people’s projections of what they want me to be."

You clear your throat, having to scoot away as Dean began to slide down beside you. Heat made its way through your lower belly. He purposefully tried to get close to you and while your head screamed Don’t let him. He just wanted into your pants. Another part, the omega in you, said that Dean thought you were special. You understood him like no one else had. “Of what you want me to be.”

Every part of you ached to turn your head and look at him. You stole a glance, but forced yourself to turn  away from Dean, having to further shift away from him on the couch.

“Sex. It keeps me from going out and getting the one thing that could save me.” Dean grinned as you once again half turn to face him, but will yourself to face forward. “But I can’t have that now. I’m a slave to rock and roll.” Again and again, Dean crawled towards you but again and again you slid away. “Like I said, I know me better than anyone, because I live in here and no one else can.”

It got you, the pain that Dean had. The anger was all because of the burden he was carrying. He once had someone to love but she left and then Dean was on his own. He didn’t know how to share himself with another person.

“I can.” You whispered and turned your head to face Dean. Eyes wide as he looked at you with a primal need you’ve never seen in someone’s eyes before. It’s because he believed that. He needed that.

And yet, he’s slow and gentle as he leant forward and pressed your lips together. One hand moved up to cup your cheek and bring you closer to him. A soft sigh left your lips as you tried and pull back for a second, only to dive in deeper the moment his tongue swiped across your bottom lip. “Open for me Omega.” He growled into your lips and you answered back with a high and needy whine.

You do as he asked and you let your lips part in the kiss. His hand moved down and began to press you further into the couch. One of his hands moved up to your face to pull your glasses off. You decided to reach up and pull your hair out of the tight ponytail that you had it in.

Dean moved up to really look at you, a hand moving through your hair and fanned it out. “Is this really what you want, omega?” He asked as a hand moved up to squeeze at your breast. His large hands gripped onto you tightly and pulled at the soft flesh under his grasp. A soft breath fanned over your neck as he drug his lips across your skin.

You jumped at the way his beard brushed against the skin of your neck, you let out a desperate whine for more. “Dean.” You breathed his name out in pleasure and tried your best not to sound too desperate. A breathless chuckle left the man’s lips as he spread apart your thighs.

“You..you’re different, aren’t you Y/N?” Dean tilted his head and you’re a bit surprised he remembered your name. “You don’t expect something from me. Do you?” You shook your head at his question. Part of you wondered if he’s guessing what you want, his truth. You expect nothing, but honesty from him.

“I’ve been looking for you ‘mega.” Dean sat up on his knees and looked down at you. He shouldered off the jacket that hid those beautiful tattoo’s of his.

“I’ve been look for you, Alpha.” Heat begins to rise to your cheeks. Now tinged pink due to the fact that you’ve never called someone alpha before. It felt perfect. Dean’s eyes rolled back a bit and he let out a low growl.

“Say it again.” Dean placed his hand over your throat. He forced  your head back to look him in the eyes. “Tell me what I am.” He demanded.

“My alpha.” You whined as he looked down at you with lust blown eyes. He looked down at his hand on your throat and pulled it away only to push up the pencil skirt you wore. The itchy fabric dragged along the smooth skin of your thighs. Dean's eyes zeroed in on your panties, but you snapped your thighs shut.

You placed the tip of your index finger on Dean’s skin to draw a shudder  from him. The touch shocked you and the both of you sat in silence as you traced the pattern of the pistol along Dean’s adonis line.

“Mmmm, you like them?” He questioned and brushed his thumb along your lower lip, pulling it down for a split second. Eagerly, you nod your head yes for him. It’s hard to deny the look Dean’s replicated. An eighties rock god was definitely befitting of Dean Winchester.

“I love them. Can I..?” You start to question, but you don’t even have to finish. Dean moved off the couch and stood on his feet in front of you. The Alpha’s right hand moved through your hair as he guided you forward, letting you do whatever you want.

You purse your lips and kissed his hip bone before you dragged your tongue over to where Deans tattoo was.  You outlined the design with your tongue. Not wanting to leave the other one unattended, you moved over to the matching design and gave it the same amount of attention as the other one. You brought your hand up and started to unbuckle his belt. The leather pants he wore, pushed far enough down his body to get to his cock. It came  as a bit of surprise as his cock sprung right into your face.

Dean didn’t order you to do anything. Once you pressed your mouth to the side of his cock, you could feel his grip tighten on your hair. Every time he let out a growl, your body reacted before you can. Slick began to collect inside your folds, but you pushed past it. Eager to please Dean and get him off.

A few gentle kisses and kitten licks have the Alpha’s cock hard and aching for the attention that you planned to give. “You ever suck a cock before sweetheart?” While it wasn’t your first, you wouldn’t say you were an expert. So, you gave him a tentative nod.

“Relax okay? You’ll get used to it.” Dean offered you a reassuring smile as he let you take the first part of his cock into your mouth. A few movements and you realized that his whole cock wasn’t going to fit inside your mouth, not like this anyway.

Dean bucks his hips into your mouth and the tip of his dick rams past your gag reflexes and makes your eyes widen. It burns your throat but you can handle it. So, you pull away, a small string of saliva connect dick and lips, how romantic.

“Use me Alpha. Wanna..” You struggle to catch your breath as you speak. “Wanna make you feel good.” It’s all he needs to hear as he really grips onto your hair with one hand, the other on the back of your head.

“Tap out if you gotta.” He whispered before he moved his cock back into your mouth. His dick slipped past every barrier and slipped into the back of your throat. It stung and you’re certain your throat will be sore tomorrow. Only when he sees you handle the depth he’s reaching does he pull out and slam your face against his pelvis. Your nose squished against his skin.

You didn’t notice it at first but you feel tears stream down your cheeks. Dean’s head is tipped back and his eyes closed, full lips parted in pleasure. Even though your face is being fucked, you realized that you enjoy the way Dean looked in this moment more than anything. The concentration that he had on stage is back and you love the way he looked in this moment.

Just as you think you can’t last much longer, Dean stilled, his cock completely buried in your mouth and comes. You don’t know if you should swallow or not. So you let instinct guide you as you swallow what he gave you. There’s a moment of silence as you lingered on the floor.

Dean stepped back and eased his cock back into his leather pants and guided you back up onto your feet. He tilted his head before he smashed your lips together in a bruising kiss. Teeth banged each other as he held onto you.

Once you feel the need for air, you pulled away and looked up at Dean, wondering what he’ll do next. “I..I think I’m ready to give you that story you were looking for.” He breathed out and pressed his forehead to yours.

Dean’s eyes opened up to gaze at the familiar ceiling of his bedroom in the bunker. Moments tick by and he turned his head to glance at the cheap clock on the opposite side of the room. It displayed the time- 3:16 am. 

Despite the time, Dean felt wide awake. He hissed as he tried to move around, feeling a sick pain/pleasure course from his cock. The seasoned Hunter was unbearably hard, to the point where it was a struggle to get out of his bed.

He’d had the dream the night before and last night when he’d woken up, Dean had to fight with himself to jack off to it. Sure, dreaming about getting sucked off was always nice, but the other stuff weirded him out. He didn’t understand what Alpha’s and Omega’s were, but he didn’t think he wanted to know. Everything worked a bit too much like a bad romance novel.

Now, he laid in bed and tried his best not to think about his dick or the way Y/N had the prettiest mouth he'd ever seen. Dean had wracked his brain, unable to figure out why he dreamt of this you in particular. Dean grabbed his laptop and looked up your name. Unable to find any in any database that matched your description, Dean set his laptop back down. 

Dean hesitated before he grabbed the laptop again. His eyes lingered on the search bar as he typed in Alpha and Omega. God. I'm already regretting this.

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