#fuck off ee fuck right off
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psa: don’t read spoilers at work bc they will make you sad and you won’t want to do anything
#ee spoilers#ben’s sl#tw: rape#ee please stop making me hate callum#ok i don’t hate him i just.. idek man#my heart hurts for ben#not only has he been violated the arsehole gave him and sti#and now he has to watch his attacker manipulate his husband and there’s nothing he can do about it#his husband aka the man he’s just been trying to protect this whole time#fuck off ee fuck right off#BUT i am very happy that kathy and jay will know soon and ben will get some support
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she !!! has !!! a !!! dad !!!
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still keeping this post because it is about the xenophobia from westerners — and the author tagged it as such —, but i want to make clear that i do not condone the racism and double standards in the treatment of refugees (white ukrainians being welcomed while refugees of color are mistreated, etc.) by european countries, western and eastern alike. it’s a very real, serious and, honestly, disheartening thing that’s happening; addressing it doesn’t automatically make one a tankie. this is why i highly recommend to familiarize yourselves with what their rhetoric looks like, so it can be properly called out and prevent us from both repeating it, or using the existence of tankies as a strawman whenever we stumble across something we don’t like. words have meaning.
#entries#racism#xenophobia#tankie punks fuck off#followup to my last reblog#<- talking about this post i don’t think the ee person meant to come off as patronizing and i get where they’re coming from#but nejihguyas was right#anyway post over i just wanted to add this followup comment to bring some nuance to the table
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begging for some more older! eddie maybe us out late at a bar let’s have him be jealous and mean😈😈
ohhhhh bestie I can do that 👀
18+ only!!! allusions to smut, mean eddie but he’s just worried about you, jealous eddie, mentions of reader drinking alcohol
Eddie spots you the second he enters the bar. The whole place is sleazy, shitty music blaring in his ears as he pushes through the inebriated crowds. He can feel his boots sticking to the floor as he walks and the air feels thick with the heat radiating off of these strangers’ bodies.
You’re leaning against the bar, your elbows propped up on the probably-filthy countertop as you chat with the bartender. You flip your hair slightly, shifting your weight where you stand and wobbling slightly in your high heels. Definitely tipsy.
Your skirt is obscenely short, and the problem Eddie has with this is that you’re wearing it now, in front of these other men, when you blew him off.
Unable to get ahold of you, he’d been an anxious mess at home. He knew you were going out with friends but you’d promised you’d be at his place by 10. It’s 12:15.
His jaw clenches when he doesn’t see a single one of your friends around, and the way the bartender keeps smiling at you makes him want to punch the guy’s teeth in. He stomps up behind you, a firm hand gripping your arm and turning you to face him. Your eyes widen in surprise when you see him, the anger in his face. You’d fucked up, letting your phone die and not getting in touch with him. Staying out later than you’d said you would.
“I think you’re done here,” he says, and it’s not a question or a request or a joke. It’s a command, an order. You are done here, and we’re going the fuck home.
“Eddie-ee,” you hiccup, trying to keep some composure but failing with the alcohol in your system.
“You’re fucking wasted. Are you fucking kidding me, honey? It’s nearly half past midnight and I haven’t heard a thing from you.” His voice is firm, gruff as he tightens his grip on your arm.
“Is there a problem here?” the bartender asks, and Eddie seriously contemplates the consequences of beating this guy’s ass.
“Yeah, you. She’s not interested, pal. And she’s certainly not going home with you tonight,” he barks, yanking you away before the nuisance can respond.
“I’m sorry, Ed, my phone—”
“It died, right? Because you didn’t charge it even though I asked you to fucking charge it before you left,” he grits, and you look down at the floor in shame. He asked you one simple thing, and you neglected to do it. You won’t say it, but he has every right to be upset.
“I’m sorry,” you squeak, barely loud enough for him to hear.
“Do you have any idea how worried I was!? When I couldn’t get ahold of you? Knowing you were out drinking?” Eddie asks, guilt clawing at your insides.
He shoves open the door to the bar, ushering you out into the parking lot. You shiver at the chill in the air, far colder out than it had been when you’d arrived.
“Nothing bad happened, Ed, I’m fine,” you stress, but he’s having none of it.
“But it could have!” he barks, his voice stern and louder than he usually ever speaks to you. “Sure looked like you were having fun entertaining that bartender,” he scoffs.
You grimace, suddenly sobering up rapidly. You hadn’t been flirting with the guy, but it couldn’t have looked good from Eddie’s perspective. You do tend to get overly friendly when you drink, talkative and chipper.
“We were just talking, I had ordered a drink!” is what comes out of your mouth, for reasons unbeknownst to you. You’d meant to quell his suspicions, but instead you sound petulant and defensive.
“Just fucking talking,” he chuckles, albeit humorlessly. “Don’t think he thought you were just talking, sweets.”
He opens the passenger door of his vehicle, slamming it behind you after you get in. The way he forces the key into the ignition and peels out of the parking lot makes your stomach churn. You make it to his place in record timing, the entire ride silent. He doesn’t open the door this time, or help you out of the car. Your feet ache in your heels and your hands wring together as you walk to his front door.
“I’m sorry, Eddie,” you say meekly, standing helplessly in his living room as he regards you out of his peripheral.
You see the way his jaw clenches and unclenches, and he brings one hand up to rub at his chin, the gray and brown scruff that litters the skin.
“You had me worried fucking sick,” he says, emphasizing this. He walks toward you until the backs of your thighs are hitting the arm of the couch. “I need you to follow rules, baby. All I asked was that you charge your phone,” his eyes don’t look away from yours for even a second, making sure you’re listening.
You nod, feeling the heat that radiates off of his body. He smells like his cologne and a hint of tobacco, a scent so familiar and comforting to you. You wonder why you’d wanted to go out tonight at all, when he’s been here all along.
He steps even closer, resting a hand on your hip possessively. “And don’t even think about chatting up anymore bartenders,” he warns, his mouth hovering beside your ear. “Got it?” His voice is gruff, sending a shiver down your spine.
“I won’t,” you agree, knees nearly buckling when an index finger reaches out to stroke your cheek.
“That’s a good girl,” he says. “Now why don’t you take these clothes off and go get on the bed for me, pretty girl. Gotta remind you who you belong to.”
#eddie munson#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x fem!reader#eddie munson smut#eddie munson blurb#older!eddie munson#older!eddie munson x reader#leah’s got mail 💌
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by any chance do you write for naoya 👉👈 ,,,big brother naoya and him with his sweet little obedient sister 👉👈 he makes her sit on his lap during a clan meeting or something public where he touches her secretly ahsgdjsgd;;;;;
Tags: incest!! Antis and minors DNI pleaseeee I’m not responsible for the content you do or do not consume!!! I know the meeting part isn’t like accurate and not how meetings go traditionally in the Zenin clan but whatever :3
Ee this is so cute 😭 okayyy but sitting on big bro Naoya’s lap maybe while at a meeting that’s supposed to be formal but he insists on letting his little sister sit on his lap… :< and of course they don’t say anything about it because he’s just so intimidating!??
But while they think you just share a very close, and innocently enough, relationship with each other, he has his big hand tucked underneath your skirt, two of his fingers slowly sliding in and out of your poor cunt, all while you’re trying to keep quiet so you don’t ruin this big opportunity for big bro Naoya.
Your juices paint his digits, clenching around them tightly while also trying to keep your breathing even and steady. Your hand clings onto his leg, occasional gasps falling from your lips that you pray no one notices.
“Can’t—“ you whisper in his ear after tilting your head back just a bit, a pout gracing your lips when Naoya laughs it off.
“Shh,” Naoya raises his other hand and presses his index finger to his lips, slowly shaking his head which makes you whine. In response, a cheeky grin tugs at his lips before he pays your cheek, turning his attention back to the meeting, keeping his digits slow and steady not only to keep the noises down, but also to fuck with you.
Naoya’s long fingers carefully sliding in and out of your wet pussy so casually as if this was just another Tuesday, your walls warm and tight around him. Your squirming doesn’t go unnoticed by everyone else in the room, but when someone brings it up, Naoya is quick to dismiss it, saying, “oh, sweet girl’s just a bit tired.” Yes, the way he addresses you is a bit… odd, but they don’t mention it.
“Too much…” you mumble as quietly as you can, attempting to subtly grind against your big brother’s wrist.
“Uh-uh, behave,” so you do, putting a halt to your hips but you do look down at his hand with a pout. “I know you can take it, be quiet, okay?”
“Mkay,” you huff and raise your wrists to your eyes to rub them. It’s too much, Naoya’s so mean for making his own sister keep quiet, right? Knowing what he’s doing, too!
“Tell you what,” he begins, “after this meeting, when we get home, I’ll give you eve you want, yeah? Only if you behave though.” In response to that, you eagerly nod your head, a wide smile falling upon your glossy lips. “Aw, that’s a good girl…”
#jjk smut#jjk x reader smut#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen smut#Naoya Zenin smut#Naoya Zenin x reader#Naoya smut#Naoya x reader#Naoya Zenin x reader smut#Naoya x reader smut
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Hello! I absolutely love your Vox content and he's currently my character fixation, I wonder if you could possibly write a Drabble or oneshot(whichever you prefer!) with Reader taking care of a wasted TV man? Thanks!
a/n — YES ABSOLUTELY!! I was actually just thinking about this, to be honest.
Also reader and him aren’t technically dating in this because I love pining and have commitment issues.
Vox clung to your neck and leaned his full body weight on you as you struggled to get him through the door.
“Your ssso sstrong,” he remarked, words slurred. He poked your face with his finger and giggled dumbly.
“Fuck, ah, doesn’t really feel like it,” you grunted. It was getting harder and harder to drag the wasted man everywhere.
Luckily, however, you had just made it to your apartment. The plan was to let him sleep in your bed and you would take the couch. It felt like the least you could do.
From the looks of it, or rather how he looked when you found him, he had a rough day. He was sitting hunched over on a bar stool, suit jacket off and bow tie undone.
By the time you’d noticed him, he was already completely drunk. He didn’t give you much to work with either when you asked why he looked so miserable.
He simply mumbled and stammered about how ‘I do all the work’ ‘never get a break’ ‘just bitching to me about everything.’ It was clear that an all-too-big amount of stress had led him to the barstool.
So, with all your strength you had helped him walk, practically carried, more like, him back to your loft.
“Mm, your sso pre—ee—tty,” Vox slurred, once again falling into a fit of giggles. If his words weren’t already incoherent, the added buffering didn’t help.
“Uh-huh,” you say, leading him over to the couch where you sat him down.
“My feet hhurt,” Vox whines, eyes dropping slightly when he meets the soft cushions.
It was strange to see him like this. He was usually so composed and put together, and now it seemed he would say anything that came to mind.
“Well, Vox, let’s take your shoes off, then.” You kneel down to untie his shoes and he continues incoherently babbling about whatever thought popped up.
Lots of which, might I add, were thoughts about how pretty and nice you were.
You knew he was going to hate himself the next morning for letting anyone see him like this. So in your mind, you already came up with reassuring words to make him less embarrassed.
‘Oh you were already almost passed out so you didn’t even say anything’ or something along those lines would probably ease his mind.
“Are we go—oo—gonna kiss?” Vox asked dreamily.
“You’re drunk,” you answer quickly. He didn’t know what he was saying.
“Oh,” he frowned, “but we sshould.”
You helped him get up from the couch by hoisting him up by his sides. Unfortunately, Vox had already hooked his arms around your neck and began leaning fully on you, making you wobble slightly.
His giggles started up again as he obnoxiously started poking your face and pulling your hair.
“God, you really are completely wasted, aren’t you?” You remark, mostly to yourself.
His drunken laughter subsided, “‘m sorry. ‘m sorry that ‘m so drunk.”
He sounded just plain sad, like you had unplugged the drain in the bathtub, letting all of his playfulness out.
“It’s okay, sweetie. You had a long day,” you rub his back comfortingly. He sighs in your arms.
Sweetie, you think, where did that come from? You weren’t sure. It just felt like the right thing to say.
“mmh, your nice,” his incoherent giggling was back, “ssso nice to m—mh—me.”
Once again, you half carried him into the bedroom and lied him down on the mattress. You unbuttoned his shirt about a third down in an attempt to make sleep more comfortable for him.
You placed the covers over him and started to leave. You were thinking about leaving some advil on the table for the morning when you heard Vox whine from behind you.
“Don’t leave,” he whispered, words still slurred. “Stay, please.” His hand had a weak grip on your own, trying to pull you closer to him.
“What?” you asked dumbly.
But Vox didn’t say anything else, just pleaded with his eyes for you too stay at least until he fell asleep.
You obliged. You sat down in the space next to him and rubbed his back. He sighed contently and nuzzled up against your leg, as you were still sitting up.
After that it didn’t take long for him to doze off, not before muttering a small ‘thank you.’
a/n — I think I’m gonna do a Velvette fic after this. Not entirely sure.
Also, disclaimer, the only reason you go back to your apartment and not his is because i’m not entirely sure where the Vees live.
So, yea, please don’t take your drunk situationship back to your apartment that’s kinda weird.
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half empty glasses with unchanging perspectives
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summary: You hated time spent alone as it encouraged all your past traumas to come flooding in. Seeking some semblance of relief, you find yourself drinking alone at the pub. However, you regret your decision when you lock eyes with Simon.
part i - behind closed doors
part ii - hollow apologies and avoiding glances
pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x gn!reader (but like not even a pairing at this point lol)
okay real talk here and same psa as before but please do not read if you are not comfortable with ANY OF THIS! it is upsetting in all aspects!!
warnings: mentions of torture/violence/cuts/scars, swearing, abusive language, ANGST GALORE
a/n: PART III IS HERE! i busted this out after doing some studying but i hope you enjoy another dose of angst
💌 @nadinesabre @casualunknownrunaway @originaldeerhottub @justpasssingby @missroro @josieguts @miss-i-ship-it @sicknasty03 @jojoblossom @azwong @shadofireshinobi @caramlizedtomatoes @deltottoro @kenz-ee @teehee-47 @tiredmetalenthusiast @hollowmasque
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You crossed off the calendar marking another “successful” therapy appointment. “Only forty of those fucking crying sessions,” you laughed sardonically. Your hand was smeared with the wet red ink as you sat down on your uniformly made bed. Today was your day off and you fidgeted at the lack of obligations. Most of your colleagues had gone home or spent little time off base. You missed those days when you actually could let your guard down and enjoy the company of others. You sighed as you sunk into your bed, squeezing your eyes tightly as another migraine coursed through your head.
After months since your ordeal, you finally returned to base. Your eyes stung at the fluorescent lights in the hallway and the squeak of military-grade boots. "You alright, Sergeant?" the pharmacist asked as she dispensed a large bag of pills and blister packs to you. "Just a headache," you mumbled as you brought a scarred hand to your face. She had a pleasant smile as she put the bag on the counter "The paracetamol should help," she hummed and you thanked her on your way out of the automatic doors. That night as you counted out 7 different pills of varying size and color, you swallowed them hard with a bottle of water. "God, can't wait until I'm done with these."
Your hand searched for the pill case on your nightstand until you felt the large plastic container. You systematically counted your daily meds, each colored tablet making your stomach churn at the idea. "And another paracetamol for luck," you chuckled to yourself as you swallowed the handful. You continued to stare at the ceiling in absolute boredom. Part of the reason why you hated the silence on base was the creeping thoughts of that dark, cold room. You tried books, drawing, meditation, and even increasing your visits to the gym by twofold. Yet, every time you returned to your quarters, you felt yourself unravel piece by piece.
"Fuck this," you yelled at no one and got up to change into something more presentable. You tried to smooth your hair and poked at the almost naturally appearing eye bags that aged you immensely. Pleasantries of fragrance and accessories weren't your prerogative as you closed your door and walked to inform the appropriate officials of your last-minute decision to leave the base. You tried to suppress the rising anger at the surprised looks on your superiors' faces as well as the turned heads as you climbed into your car. You beat your fingers rhythmically on the steering wheel as you thought of your next actions with all the free time in the world. As your car crept slowly on the street, you took a right turn to the only destination you could think of: the pub.
As you found parking amongst the hundreds of cars, you smiled at the notion of finding solitude along with the drunken crowds and clangs of glasses. You pushed through the loud laughter and cheers as you ordered a single lowball glass of cheap whiskey. You threw your money on the counter and found a quiet corner to peoplewatch. Your throat burned as you swallowed the brown liquor and cursed the hangover you would have in the morning. Your wallowing was interrupted by the loud cheers of a certain group, one you never wanted to see again.
"SHOTS ALL AROUND!" you could hear Soap call as you observed him hand small glasses of a highly flammable liquid around. The group laughed and then slightly cringed at the taste of it. You could feel your hands tighten around the glass as you looked at the group. "So goddamn normal," you mumbled under your breath before you took another drink. You turned your body slightly and shielded yourself from their merriment. You tried to calm your breathing as you drank faster and faster. This was the last fucking thing you needed. "Slow down there, friend," the bartender winked at you as he watched you down the beverage. You rolled your eyes at the suggestion before you continued to look at the half-empty glass.
'You really should slow down," a voice said as he joined on the empty seat next to you. Your body tensed at the voice and you didn't even need to look to know it was your old lieutenant seated next to you. So much for enjoying a night out. "And what the fuck would you know," you shouted over the loud crowd. Your throat winced at the rising tone and ached from the liquor that burned your insides. "I know that those aren't good for the medication you're taking," Simon softly replied and you threw a hand at him in dismissal. "Now who told you that," you countered, "the same man who gave you the go-ahead to keep me in a room and torture me until I confessed."
There was a beat of silence, as for once, Simon was at a loss for words. He thumbed at his frosty glass, letting the condensation drip onto the counter. "Anyways what are you here for?" you asked sarcastically, "wonder how many bodies you boys left before you returned." Simon shook his head at your comment, taking another sip from his drink. He practically finished it, necessitating a refill from the overworked bartender. "What are you getting at, Eclipse?" he replied and you cringed at the use of your old codename. You let out a dry laugh as you casually sipped on the disgusting beverage. "Don't fucking lie, Simon," you said, venom in your tone, "you can come here, drink in victory, but I know how cruel you can be."
You sat uncomfortably for a few moments and looked on at the roaring crowds. The rest of the 141 had dispersed among the patrons but you could feel their piercing gaze on your scarred skin. "Nothing to say, Simon," you cynically laughed again, "god you really haven't changed." From the corner of your eye, you could see how he shifted in his seat and picked at the calluses on his hands. It almost felt relieving seeing the amount of power you held over him in this moment. This should have made you whole again. If not the previous altercation in the hallway, then this right here. But as you looked back down at your glass, you still felt the same painful wounds ooze open.
“It’s nice to see you again, Eclipse,” Ghost spoke, barely reaching an audible volume over the loud pub, “I’m haunted by the things I did to you.” At that, you couldn’t help but let your drink drop on the counter, sloshing a sickly reddish brown liquid across the wood. “Sure you fucking are, Simon,” you mumbled as you looked at the mess, “I hope you have nightmares about the shit you did.” He hung his head in response, taking another long swig of his all-too-expensive drink. “Will you ever forgive me?” he asked and you practically could double over laughing. “Gaz and Soap maybe but as for you and the Captain,” you said lowly as you got up from the stool. You leaned closely to his ear to reiterate your sentiments, “You would have to crawl across the earth for my forgiveness.”
#task force 141 x reader#task force 141#cod x reader#call of duty modern warfare#cod mwii#modern warfare 2#simon riley x reader#simon ghost riley#call of duty#john soap mactavish#kyle gaz garrick#gaz x reader#soap x reader#price x reader#kyle garrick x reader#john price x reader#Johnny mactavish x reader#mw2 imagine#madebyizzie#izzie is writing#eclipse!series
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Cherry Pie Kiss
Slice Two
Pairing: Dean Winchester x fem!reader
Summary: Out on the hunt, out of state and out of options; with your life on the line, Dean makes a call you're not happy with. Just when you thought you couldn't take any more, he brings a peace offering.
Haven't read Part One? - Catch up here.
Words: ~3.5k
A/N: This is part 2 of 3 of what started as a short one shot, but someone asked for another slice of pie so I'm here to deliver. There isn't any smut in this part (its all going to be in part 3 😂) but there are graphic depictions of gore, violence and death which is why I ask minors not to read or interact. Reader is female but generic, and obviously has feelings but is kind of stuck in this hate to love him type thing which carries on from part 1. I hope you enjoy the read and are ready for the goonfest and gratuitous smut coming in part 3.
Warnings: gore, death and gruesome depictions of canon-type violence, profanity as standard for my work, bit of angst, bit of fluff right at the end.
***Minor do not read or interact***
Dean Winchester. You hate him. His saviour complex, his unwavering strength, the way he’s so damn selfish though not in the ways that count… But boy, can he wear a pair of jeans. Phew-ee!
You hate that you can’t stop looking at him, leaning on the jukebox of the bar you’re in, feeding it quarters in exchange for some feel-good tunes. Ugh! Asshole!
Tonight had been a tough night. Even Sam was feeling the burn. Out on the hunt, out of state and out of options, the three of you had played a Hail Mary and it had paid off. Those damn vamps had just kept on coming. Sam was down and you were in a bad way with what felt like a hoard of those fuckers piling into the abandoned factory to make a meal out of you all. Starting out, you had all been so sure that you had this little group in the bag but, as per usual with these goddamn things, the plan didn’t pan out.
Dean had dragged you and a semi-conscious Sam into a tight space between the machines. One way in, one way out. You were both toast if you were found and of course you would be found; the vamps had your scent.
Groggily, you watched dean uncoil something from his pocket and string it across the opening at about neck height.
“Guitar string.” He winked at you as if this idea was the best idea he had ever had and should have been plan A from the start.
“We’re fucking bait?” You hissed furiously. No, surely not? Dean would never use his brother as bait. Would he? “Goddamn asshole!” You snarled with as much vitriol you could muster between your gasping breaths and painful ribs.
He just gave you that weary look he had been wearing for the past hour and shrugged his shoulders before pulling out his machete and hiding himself out of sight. “Get ready.”
You brandished your blade and hauled yourself to your feet, ready to fight. There was no point wasting any more breath insulting him. If you got out of this alive, you would have plenty of opportunity to call him all the names under the sun. IF you got out alive.
The first vamps that found you came rushing in, right down the tight alley framed by the large machinery and with a sharp twang, Dean’s trap garrotted them straight through, taking their heads clean off. Of the next three, the wire took the first two but the third approached cautiously despite you calling him to come get you.
Dean ran out from his hiding place and attacked the vamp from behind, slashing at the guy’s thick neck twice in order to cut all the way through. As the body fell you saw why the vamp had stopped – the trap had remnants of flesh and blood along it from its previous victims making it easier to see. You wiped your sleeve along it to clean the bits of hanging flesh off making it almost invisible again. Dean gave you an impressed nod.
Another two vamps fell to the wire but the last one got snagged as she fell, snapping it and making it useless. Well, it was a good idea while it lasted, you thought.
It took you two a little while longer to attract the remaining few vamps who obviously knew something was up. Sam was in no fit state, still groaning on the ground. You were weak and in a lot of pain but you kept swinging your blade, struggling to breathe let alone stand.
The fight had been brutal and both you and Dean were covered in blood by the time it was over. You were on your knees, slumped over a vamp you had had to hack into to remove the head, your blade surely blunt by now. You were ready to close your eyes and give up when Dean pulled you to your feet.
“C’mon,” he said gruffly, “up and at’em.” Helping you out over the pile of decapitated bodies, he hauled a now mostly conscious Sam through the mess.
You had made it to the Impala and, for once, Dean hadn’t grumbled about getting blood on Baby’s seats but throwing a couple blankets down instead. Sam slumped in the front while you crawled in the back, weary and sore. Your eyes met Dean’s in the rearview mirror but yours flicked away immediately, unable to look at him without getting angry. When you looked back so did he, like he knew you’d be looking, and held on, asking if you were okay without actually asking. If he really cared he wouldn’t have used you as bait.
You let your head fall back onto the seat and closed your eyes frustrated by his dichotomy.
After a while on the road, Dean turned the radio on, breaking the silence which opened the door for you to say what was on your mind. Sam hadn’t been bothered one bit by the fact that Dean had used you both as bait, but you were furious.
“It worked, didn’t it?” Dean snapped, frustrated by your anger.
“I hate you.”
“Yeah, yeah, you and a whole long list of other people. Aint nothin’ new.”
Around five miles out of Crocker, Missouri, Dean pulled into a truck stop complex which had a convenience store, gas station, diner, a small motel and a dive bar. The dawn was still hours away and the need for a couple of hours sleep in a comfortable bed was showing on all three of you. Sam was the cleanest so he made the arrangements; two rooms because there was no way you were sharing a room with that asshole after what he did. You were just as likely to fuck him out of anger as fight him at that point.
You used the showers in the truck stop to clean off all the blood and get into some clean clothes, relishing in the feel of the warm water and decent water pressure. You felt a slight pang of guilt that someone would likely be picking vamp chunks out of the drain in the next couple of days but it passed quickly, it probably wasn’t the worst thing these truck stop attendants had seen over the years.
Refreshed by the shower and a take-out burger from the diner, you decided you needed a drink or five, which sounded good to Sam and Dean – you all deserved it.
So, here you are, several drinks in, pounding another tequila shot, trying not to stare at Dean Winchester’s ass while Sam bids you goodnight and takes himself off to one of the two rooms you had paid for at the run-down motel on site.
It seems as if you’re not the only one with an eye for a firm ass in tight Wranglers; a scantily clad barfly sidles up to Dean and strokes her hand down his back as he plugs his final song into the jukebox. When her hand reaches that ass of his, he straightens and turns, grinning at her with that look you know means he’s going to ride her all the way to dawn.
You can’t watch this. You don’t have the stomach for it, not tonight. You pound your remaining two shots and eat the lime slice, peel and all. Then you’re up off your stool and pushing past Dean and his lady friend, and out into the night where the air cools your heated skin but not your confusing emotions.
In the second of the two rooms, you look at your bruised face and neck in the mirror. No wonder he didn’t look twice at you, you’re a mess. It shouldn’t pain you like it does to think of him with another woman. He asked once and you said no, so that is the end of that. Plus, you hate him, can’t forget that. Still, it gives you some small satisfaction that he now has no empty room to take his new friend to so he’ll have to bang her in Baby, on the bloody blankets. With a spiteful smirk you flop on the bed and fall into a light disturbed sleep.
A loud knock on the door wakes you up with a start. At first you don’t know where you are. So used to your room in the bunker, you had almost forgotten what it feels like to sleep that first night in a new place, never truly resting for fear of attack. It’s only an hour or so since you left the bar and you’re groggy from the tequila and from the waking.
You don’t turn on the lights when you go to the peephole, looking out with your pistol muzzle pushed up against the flimsy wood door. Dean sways on the other side, his head turned as though he’s listening.
“Sam’s in the other room,” you call, clicking the safety back onto your pistol.
“I know,” he grumbles, “open up. I got something.”
“It can wait until the morning.”
“Can’t wait,” it sounds muffled, “owwww!” he hisses.
“What the hell,” you sigh, sliding the chain and turning the handle.
Dean stumbles in with his mouth shaped like an “O” as he slides two bowls onto the unit next to the TV, shaking his hands afterwards as if burned. You close the door and engage the chain out of habit.
“Got you something.” He grins goofily, obviously much more drunk than you had left him in the bar, and you wonder what happened to the barfly. Surely the womanizing Dean Winchester hadn’t banged and dropped her in that short a time?
“It’s two in the morning, Dean.” You wipe a hand down your tired face, lifting your eyes again to see him handing you one of the bowls from the diner.
“Peace offering.” He says with a smile as he pushes the hot ceramic into your hands, his eyes glistening with mirth and the effects of all the whiskey he shot back earlier.
You look at what he brought you and your heart almost stops. It’s a steaming hot piece of cherry pie, drizzled in a large puddle of vanilla custard just the way you like it. You look at his, with his tiny dollop of cream just the way he likes it, and you can’t help but smile.
“Why?” You ask as you sit on the edge of the bed with him in the chair by the TV, the bowl in your hand, spoon loaded with goodness.
He finishes chewing a piece of the hot pie, sucking in air to cool it in his mouth before he replies. “I know you hate me.”
“I don’t hate you,” you admit too quickly but the words are out now whether he believes them or not.
“And I know it’s my fault,” he looks at you with those eyes, “I shouldn’t have made things awkward from day one. So, I’m sorry about that.”
“Thank you.” You never thought you would ever hear Dean Winchester apologise, or what you would say in return.
“I didn’t know how to take the rejection,” he sighed heavily, “especially not from someone I have this amazing chemistry with, y’know? But that’s on me.”
What great chemistry did Dean think he had with you? All the years you had known him, you’d harboured a bit of a crush on him but he always acted like you were one of the guys. When you two crossed paths it had felt effortless to slip into the old camaraderie but he treated you like a sister, a fellow hunter, until you had shown up on his radar this time covered in blood and all kinds of messed up and he’d gotten all pissed and… ohhhh.
“You were right all those years ago when you said hunters shouldn’t get close,” he continues, “I should’ve listened and never asked that question.”
You remember the conversation clearly. It was something you had said because you thought it was what he wanted to hear from you. Younger and more naïve, you had thought that what he wanted was for you to be like one of the guys so you had said the words and hoped that you could remain where you were with him, always close but never at risk of blowing everything. Over time you had begun to regret that decision, and as soon as he started acting like an asshole it had been easy to trade the feelings you had for ones of resentment.
“I wish I never said it. I didn’t realise what I would be losing when I asked.” He looks at you again, beseechingly. “Do you think we can start again? Be friends like before?”
You think about it for a moment but the more you think the surer you are that you can’t go back. You can’t know these things and have these experiences and go back to the beginning.
“No, Dean, I don’t think we can.” Your words are soft but the devastation in his eyes is sharp and painful.
You stand, placing your untouched bowl on the bedside table, and walk towards him. His bowl is empty now, but there’s a little piece of pie left on his spoon when you take it from him. He’s confused but follows your every movement with a mixture of sadness and reverence.
The pie is sweet on your tongue and the way his eyebrows raise when your lips close around the spoon brings a cheeky glint to your eyes. You sit on his knee, wrapping one arm around his shoulders while the other pulls the now clean spoon past your lips. You swallow with a sigh. His hands go to your hip and thigh to steady you as he looks up at you.
You dip your head slowly and he tilts up to meet you, his eyes flicking between yours and your mouth. He tastes sweet just like you do when you lay your lips on his, a soft kiss that is both the testing of waters and the soothing of sharp emotions. He squeezes your thigh tighter for a brief moment and you pull back to see the questioning look on his face.
“But you said…”
You shush him with a finger laid over his lips. “I know what I said.”
“Then what did you mean?” He swallows hard, licking his lips nervously afterwards as if you’re about to pull the rug out from under him.
“I wish I’d said yes.”
#dean winchester x reader kiss#dean winchester x reader#dean x reader#dean winchester fic#spn#spn fanfic#dean winchester fanfic#dean winchester hurt/comfort#dean winchester angst#dean winchester#dean winchester x you#dean winchester x female!reader#dean winchester fanfiction#cloudy's writing
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would love to see what exactly occurred when rafe slapped our ass black and blue for bitching too much 🤭 and whether he got any of the other kooks involved or he took this on as his responsibility…
(edit: adding a little more to this because I thought of more🫶🏻)
You were pissed, fully prepared to brat to your hearts content when Rafe, Topper, and Kelce came over. They hadn’t paid you nearly enough attention lately, hadn’t bought you any new gifts, too fucking busy golfing and partying to pay attention to you. You’d complained to each of them individually, and then to all of them at once in the group chat. Telling them that you were bored, that they weren’t answering fast enough, that they needed to answer you now or buy you something to make up for it. It’s all they heard for the last few days and they were getting fed up, part of it was their fault, they spoiled you too much, but you were bitching just a little too much for their liking. All of you were supposed to hang out at your place that weekend, ready to make it up to you then. So when they walked into your living room, they expected their usual greeting, a kiss to their lips and a hello, but when they walked in? You’d walked over and slapped Rafe in the face, hard, and walked back to your couch. Sitting with a loud huff, arms crossed and brows furrowed. Rafe touched his face, tracing the hot splotch your hand left, jaw clenched and tongue sucking his teeth. You knew you fucked up, you knew it was soon as your hand made contact, but it was already done. He’d stormed over to you, hand harshly gripping your upper arm and bending you over the arm of the couch. He ripped off the tiny skirt you had on, smirking when he saw you had no panties on and telling the boys to watch him , and slapped your ass. “Ow, that fucking hurts you dick. First you abandon me, no gifts or anything, and now you’re hurting me.” you whined, a harsher slap landed on your ass followed by a firm ‘shut the fuck up’. Then you’d heard that sound, the sound you both dreaded and desired, his belt buckle being undone. It wasn’t but a few seconds later the rather made contact with your right ass cheek, a loud crack filling the room and echoing off the walls as the welt began to show. He moved on to the left one, the same cracking noise filling the room as you tried to squirm away. He’d brought your hands behind your back and held them there, moving his legs to tangle with yours and hold you in place as he kept up with his relentless attack. You could feel your cunt dripping, the sticky arousal coating your inner thighs, leaking more and more with each whip of the belt. The boys watched in pure satisfaction, knowing if you couldn’t handle it you’d let them know, eyes moving to the glistening on your thighs and dripping hole. Your ass was on fire, sore and hot to the touch, but Rafe kept going. Tears cascaded down your face like a crystal river, small drops falling onto the couch. “3 more. Count them and fucking thank me you fucking brat”
He’d brought the belt down again “O-one. Thank y-you Rafe”
Again “Tw-o. T-thank you Rafe”
Again, but this time you forgot to answer, head too empty to remember.
“I said,” the hand not holding the belt letting go of your hands and moving to wrap around your throat to squeeze it, loving the way you gasped for air “Fucking count. You’re not that much of a dumb slut to do that right? You’re so smart yeah, our smart girl? So try that again” he’d coo, releasing your throat as you coughed and caught your breath.
One final crack of the harsh leather against your ass “Thr-ee. Thank you R-Rafe”
“Good girl baby, all done now okay? Did so so good for me sweet girl” his voice soft and gentle, his hands caressing the bruised and broken skin. He’d cleaned you up, having the others grab some ointment to rub on the broken areas of skin, before the three of them admired Rafe’s handy work, splotches of red, purple, black, and blue covering your ass. He let go of your body, moving to sit on the couch, before pulling you into his lap and smirking at the hiss you let out. Ass sore and sensitive.
“Let this serve as a reminder not to ever fucking do that shit again. Not to me, not to Kelce, not to Topper. If something is bothering you, you talk to us and tell us how to fix it like the big girl you are princess” you’d nodded your head, curling into Rafe’s chest as the other two began rolling a joint.
Safe to say, you never dared brat that way again. Especially not towards Rafe, it took several weeks for the bruises to go away and for you to be able to sit properly.
Tag List: @sweetestdesire @congratsloserr @xyzstar @madelynie
#rafe cameron#rafe cameron blurb#rafe cameron imagine#rafe cameron smut#asks <3#rafe cameron x kook!reader#topper thornton smut#kelce outer banks
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Headcanons- Sobieslaw "Gromsko" Kościuszko
Is not-so-secretly displeased that no one can pronounce his name. He is absolutely a Polish Culture fanatic and is incredibly patriotic. It bothers him that people either can’t or aren’t willing to learn how to say his name.
For this reason, a quick way to get in his good books is to practice his name and get it right to him. If a pretty girl does it, he’s not-so-subtly hearing wedding bells.
Lowkey misogynist, very traditional
Wants a wife and kids. No kids are a deal breaker for him.
Wants a wife who will clean and cook for him when he can fix stuff around the house and earn income with the military
Grew up with 4 siblings, two brothers, and two sisters, they all have the most Polish names imaginable.
Desperately wants at least three kids.
Generally very outgoing and boisterous. Is commonly told that he’s “too loud”
His response is to smile and laugh even louder than previously.
The exception to this is when he’s embarrassed, which is incredibly infrequent. He will get quiet and turn red if he does anything particularly stupid
He bought a copy of Silence of the Lambs thinking it was a field cooking guide. He gets genuinely flustered when people bring it up
Reads a lot in his off time, and learned English from reading almost exclusively
As such he mispronounces words in ways that people that learned from English speakers typically don’t, like pronouncing “chassis” like “chass-iss” not “chass-ee”
If anyone brings it up he blue screens for a second and argues back that that makes no sense and why can’t it be phonetic?
He inadvertently started a book club with Reyes, Nova, and a few other SpecGru operators by asking around for books to practice with.
Sleeps naked or in very tight boxers much to his bunk mates' chagrin.
He has the unique habit of sleeping on his arm and holding his pillow to his chest and between his legs when he’s asleep.
It’s because his right knee is damaged from a particularly rough infill landing, having his knees together when he sleeps is really painful
Everyone assumes it’s something to do with humping his pillow because he’s just. Got no shame like that, but it isn’t actually.
Has no insecurities appearance-wise. He is how he is and people can like that or not, he doesn’t give a shit.
Cocky? confident? Self-assured?
all of the above and then some.
Magic touch when it comes to being a medic. He has stabilized people who damn well should have bled out and died on the field.
He should be a bad medic because he’s so loud and aggressive on the field
And yet, he’s nearly always right on target and right where he needs to be to help someone out.
His whole demeanor changes from patient to patient.
Otherworldly sense of what people need emotionally when they’re hurt.
Need someone to empathize with you? He’s already telling you how much your family back home needs you to pull through.
Need to get your mind off the pain? He’s telling you knock-knock jokes that don’t really make sense in between stories of his childhood misadventures.
Need someone to kick you into gear? He’s spitting in your face about how you can’t just give up now and die like a fucking dog.
Need some peace and quiet? He’s holding your hand and stroking your wrist with his thumb, only providing pulses of pressure to keep you in the moment.
Absolutely capable of gentleness and caring, but just does so very infrequently.
He is kind, not nice.
He will help out anyone with anything without being asked to, but he’s gonna make fun of them the whole time. (Playful banter, he means no harm by it)
Much more likely to be “nice” to a woman or a child than a man.
Handles his liquor poorly at the moment, will get black-out drunk without batting an eye, and yet somehow never gets hungover.
The others are convinced he takes medical supplies for homemade hangover cures, he doesn’t but he lets them think that.
Superior Polish genes, baby. His liver is the strongest thing about him.
He does not necessarily need to be “the alpha male” in any given room or situation, but very much commands a certain kind of attention.
This man occupies space. Wide stance, a loud voice, a louder laugh, and the personality of a wrecking ball. His ego is through the door before he is.
Despite this, most of his coworkers don’t really find him all that jarring because he doesn’t demand subservience. He knows his station and does not need validation outside of it.
He doesn’t care to be a leader, it’s not that he’s opposed, he just has a different skill set.
He tends to wander on the battlefield, always hyper-vigilant to where he is needed most.
His weapon of choice is a rocket launcher.
AVADA KADABRA KURWA
BOOM
He and Soap are on the top of the “UNDER NO FUCKING CIRCUMSTANCES ALLOWED TO USE A ROCKET LAUNCHER” list, followed closely (and inexplicably) by Farah?
Read about that story here!
Despite being in a profession centered around fixing people/caring for wounds, has a natural tendency towards destruction.
Soldiers' vocabulary all the way. Every 5th word is a swear, and that’s on a “clean” day.
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𝐍𝐎. 𝟕 ❛ 𝐡𝐨𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐟𝐚𝐬𝐭 ❜ | AUGUST 1991
❧ 𝐝𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 / 𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 / 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 / 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭.
Trish Fitzpatrick wore many hats, but her favorite was “freelance journalist.” Her area of expertise grew directly out of myriad side gigs: what she called portrait pieces of interesting people. Outlets clamored for them—or, they had since she’d buttered up famous, neurotic opera singer-turned-starlet Prudence Boone into revealing she had a glass eye, a secret runaway daughter, and a hair-eating habit. Of course, Prudence was basically a stranger. They had once had a fifteen minute conversation on the deck of a yacht, bonding over the fact that neither actually knew to whom the vessel belonged. Prudence thought Trish’s outlandish suggestions were funny enough to remember her when she called to pitch the piece. It had gone the same way with Renzo. Of course, they had met while fighting over a scarf in a vintage clothing store. Trish considered letting him win to be a debt, one for which she would demand recompense at the ideal time. Opportunities passed, and then August 1991 proved to be the time.
❧ i got the irresistible urge to do renzo backstory, which was meant to be an outtake, but then i was like, "uh, no, this totally works as story proper if i put leonor in it," so here we are ! context and such. given the amount of work, this might be my magnum opus until further notice ... it was also just fun to do :^) checked off the sex, drugs, and rock-n-roll boxes ?? where's my prize. in conclusion, i love my white boy of the week or whatever
𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐭 ↓
I grew up in a tiny town—Petunia. Petunia? You say it differently. It’s the country coming out, I guess. Not “pee-tyoon-ee-ah,” it’s “puh-toon-yuh.” Petunia. That’s it. So, how was it? Fond memories? In retrospect, maybe. I wanted to get the hell out of there from day one. What I remember is being very unhappy—dispositionally sullen, not just a pouty kid, but fully down and out. Born that way, probably. And your parents? My parents … Life had the upper hand, man. They were good at losing. I didn’t want that life.
My dad professed to be a traveling salesman—What, he wasn’t? I mean, he didn’t know jack shit about vacuums or whatever the fuck. I don’t know. But, he wasn’t around a lot, it sounds like? Gone for weeks at a time. Just me and my mom. How was she? Not really there either. When I got home from school, she’d pop her pills and be gone until morning. She wasn’t avoiding me; she was avoiding life. She did what she had to do in the mornings—you know, I had what I needed, the bare essentials—but she was checked out. You had a lot of unsupervised time, then. Oh, did I. Too much. I mean, I had books to read, and I got into music early—From her? No. My dad’d blow into town and bring pity gifts. Not kid-appropriate shit, now that I think about it. Heavy, gritty stories. A guitar I was too little to use. Flip lighter. But, you know, I was a kid. I wanted to run and play with everyone else, too. Of course.
Here’s the thing: it was hard to be a scrawny kid named Lorencio in Petunia. Shit, I can imagine. What was that like? … Hard, like I said. Well—Details? I got the shit kicked out of me. Regularly. What do they call it—um—“school of hard knocks”? Yeah. I remember, one time, I limped home on a Saturday. Mom was out of it, but she leapt up when she saw all the blood. Cleaned me up. It’s like I’m there now—in that bathroom with the dirty tile, her burning me with peroxide … She didn’t really talk, you know, not in a serious way? But she did then? She said, in Uspanian, “‘Don’t roll over for anyone.’” Interesting. So, that’s the lesson? Part of it. I realized that summer it didn’t matter if you were scrawny, if you talked funny, if you were poor. What mattered was not being a pussy. [Laughs] Oh, yeah? If you want credibility, if you want respect, sometimes you gotta be able to take a beating. Don’t roll over. That’s right.
I think it also helped when the growth spurt hit. You must’ve still been scrawny. [Laughs] String bean. So it goes. Adolescence . Now, you grew up fast, is what I’ve heard. You could say that. My life changed when Marty got out of lock-up—Sorry, what?—for “teen offenders”; he set his grandparents’ car on fire—oh, I see, regular kid shit—Uh huh. We hit it off. He introduced me to other guys, including Jesse. They’d huff gas together. Oh my God. Not whippits? Sure, but less convenient. That’s—No good, yeah. Fun though. Have you—? I’ve tried everything, Patricia.
Jesus! So, Marty and Jesse…? We got on like a house fire. [Groans] They were into petty crime for the thrill of it—Now, Renzo, is arson petty? He did it one fucking time. Everyone overreacted. They got into trouble for fun, and for you it was—? Money. Not a lot. I was too dumb to consider the risks. But, you did other things for money, too? Don’t say it like that. I wasn’t hooking. [Snorts] I worked a lot. I was cutting school to work, getting paid under the table, all of that. Maybe—hear me out—some of it was thrilling for you, too? I won’t tell anyone. [Chuckles] What can I say? Credibility.
I feel like I’m mischaracterizing … I love Marty and Jesse, to this day. Jesse’s daughter is your godchild, right? Yeah. Marty went back to Petunia in … ‘88? Jesse and I had better luck, or maybe we were just more desperate. Either way, my point is that delinquents get a bad rap—With good reason! Sure, okay. Both of them were deeper and more complicated than that. You’re not an outlier. No. We’re a dime a dozen. No one gives them the chances you got. Uh huh. So, we bonded over that—feeling down and out, like I said, but also the fact that we loved music. Marty’s family had money, so they’d bought him a nice bass guitar. But, Jesse’s mind … He’s so fucking creative. He wasn’t a reader, but I could tell him about something I’d been chewing on, and he’d have a song inspired by it within the hour. He has an incredible voice, too. He does.
I guess it’s not surprising that you guys did what you did. There was nothing for us at home, you know? Packing up and heading out west didn’t feel like a risk. And your mom understood that? Better than anyone. I know people judged her—shit, I judge her, too—but I always knew she was trying. That’s sweet. Is it? I mean, I think so … She met my dad at a bus stop three weeks after she arrived in the country and made the mistake of getting off at his stop. That’s it. That was her crime. Well, I’m sure she’s doing better now, huh? She lives in a nicer house in a nicer city, but that doesn’t cure depression, now does it? I suppose not. There was this woman whose lawn I’d cut all the time … A real bitch, but she was extra nice because she felt bad for me. Hated my mother. I think she was just jealous because my dad was her high school sweetheart. Isn’t that just how it goes? Damn foreigner stealing a real catch from her. [Scoffs] Sticky fingers when she invited me inside for lemonade—cigs and quarters from her purse, Valium from the cabinet, that kind of thing. [Laughs] Casual. It was pretty brazen, honestly. Fucking dumb kid.
Alright, so, you come out here with Marty and Jesse to make music, and now you’re a serious actor with a name and a big career ahead of you. How’d that happen? It was completely accidental. While we waited for a record deal, I did odd jobs, like auto work—you know, in a body shop. It was decent. Had you worked on cars before that? So, I got familiar, uh … [Chuckles] We’ve established I was a rascal. We could get under the hood of a parked car and make a few dollars off parts. I can get you in so much trouble, Renzo! [Laughs]
Don’t tell anyone, come on! I was a kid. Have a heart. I guess it paid off. But, alright, body work? What’s the connection? It’s kind of convoluted. When business was slow, the guy I worked for loaned his employees out to another mechanic. This guy, long story short, brought me along to assist him on a movie set. I guess he was a known quantity? Everyone knows the right guy! That’s everyone’s explanation for where they end up. Me, too. Uh huh. I don’t know why they let me do it, but—Somehow it worked out. Yeah, it did. Right place, right time.
You’re in the spot. How did you get into it, though? This is embarrassing as hell but, fuck it, I’ll be honest. Please. Don’t stop now. [Chuckles] I got a shot because I’d been chatting up this girl who, as it turns out, was the director’s kid—or, in fact, she approached me. I had no idea who she was or why she was there. Of course she did! That’s not surprising, is it? I think I was the most disinterested person there. I don’t know. Anyway, we talked a couple times, then—out of the blue—someone asked me if I wanted to hop into a scene, say a line, ten seconds flat. She did that for you? I don’t know what she did. No one mentioned her. Maybe she thought you looked like a movie star. [Snorts] Fuck. I hope not. Did you want to do it? I wanted to make music. I wanted to finish reading my book. I wanted … I mean, I said yeah. Can’t decline that. Makes a good story, right? What happened with her—? Oh, hell. Sorry! Moving on, for now. [Groans]
I got a call several weeks later about an audition. How did that feel? Bizarre. We’d done a demo for a producer once, but this was different. Were you excited? I was terrified. But, I went. Didn’t get that part, although everyone was perfectly nice to me. How disappointing. You always remember your first … But, hey, you have to look at it this way: I didn’t want to be an actor. I thought it was cool, but it felt like … ? Go ahead, give me a good metaphor. Like when you’ve been craving your favorite food, but then someone offers you a helping of something different, new, appetizing. How’s that? Passable. C-plus. [Laughs] Fuck you, Pat.
Okay, so the road didn’t end there. No, it didn’t. I got another call, and that one went well. This was for … Sugar Sweet? That’s the one. Cornball, but I love that movie. Never seen it. What! How is that possible? You were in it. You went to the premiere screening. There are pictures. Saw my first scene, excused myself to go piss, didn’t come back until the applause had started. Wow. Everyone has opinions about that movie these days—very contentious, whether or not Alicia was in the wrong when she left me and stole my lifelong dream. What do you think? Me, Renzo? Good for her. I thought it was kind of bitchy. It’s peculiar how many women say that. I wonder why … ! Billy’s so dreamy. Please, ask me about something else, Pat. So, this romantic comedy is your launching pad. It leads to the television show. The television show blows up immediately. Walk me through what that felt like?
Also terrifying. I really cannot emphasize enough that I didn’t want attention. I wanted money and time to support my music, and acting seemed like a good way to do that. Just didn’t account for the side effects. Like fame? Uh huh. I was a nobody in Sugar Sweet, and the pay was shit, but it felt like a miraculously good deal at the time. What it did is put me in the running for more serious work. I think, even then, sometimes the casting folks were hesitant to take a risk on someone with no experience whatsoever, even if they had—A spark? Talent? Sure. It was unsettling, the idea that I was some kind of “natural,” and I compensated by working really hard. Well, you’ve established yourself as a hard worker. Sure. I guess they saw that—the improvement, in addition to the fact that I had a resume to speak of by then. Or, eh, they saw that you were pretty. Right, of course, you don’t need talent if you have Teen Mag’s favorite cheekbones. [Snickers] I joined a cast with other people who had very little experience, and we bonded over that. I just didn’t expect to be … What, the center of attention? That, yeah.
You know what’s fucking weird? Huh? Signing your name on a picture of your own face that belongs to someone else. That they’re going to take it home and pin it to their fucking wall or frame it on their bedside table. Someone’s kid treating you like their school crush, blushing and shit while they’re asking for you to do it. That does seem like a strange experience. Over and over again. Teenyboppers, goddamn. You were in the magazines for them. I read a couple interviews. No the fuck I was not. I did not do those. No? What they do is take quotes from actual, consented conversations and stitch them together for their own use. It’s legal. That’s fascinating. Maybe I should try that. Less work. [Laughs] Yeah, alright, flush your “exclusive access” privilege right down the toilet.
But, look, I’m not disparaging the fans wholesale. That’d be unfair. And, ouch, ungrateful? Yeah. The initial couple years were fucking insane, but I was with people I liked, and a lot of the fans we actually met were … Normal? Uh huh. Not a hysterical, handsy, screaming blob. You got grabbed? Groped, Pat. Oh boy. We don’t like grabass, I guess. Well, hold on now, just not like that—You keep sidetracking me. What kind of interviewer are you? I’m having fun with my buddy! Sue me. [Chuckles] You got it, baby. What was I saying? The fans? Yeah. The ones we met one-on-one were cool, usually. They had deep thoughts about the show, you know? Ideas about the characters, the plots—filled in holes in the shitty writing. No offense to Jack and Reuben, I hope! Don’t print that, Pat.
If I’m being honest, having to answer their questions made me think deeply about the role. That’s stayed with me. I don’t like being walked up on in public, but sometimes it’d go fine. The first time someone came up to me in the wild, her mother looked so fucking apologetic that I decided, “Cool it, don’t be a jackass.” She wanted to talk about the book I was buying. Same thing would happen to Frank, Perry, Vicky. How about the show itself? That was a three year commitment.
It was alright. In retrospect, I understand that television isn’t for respectable actors, which made the transition hard. Harder to have been on a show for teenagers. But, you made that switch in Uspana. So, did that play into the calculus at all? I lucked out, in the sense that the show was co-produced, and I got to do the dubbing for the Uspanian version. I wasn’t a total unknown, even if they thought my Uspanian was shitty. Is it? Losing an accent is hard, in my defense.
When my contract ended, I hit the road. You didn’t think about staying on? I thought about it with horror, yes. [Laughs] You’d keep shit-talking the whole production if I let you. Maybe. So, in Uspana? It was like exhaling for the first time in a while. I did nothing for a couple months. All that hard work, being a beloved TV star … Throw me a bone, Pat. But, anyway, I didn’t even see my mom’s family again for a few weeks—You knew them, though? Yeah, we’d met, during the press trips. Beach life by yourself. Luxury.
You know, I needed to reconnect with myself. That’s how I felt. I felt like I had been an imposter, then I felt like I had to be someone I wasn’t, and now … You could go a different way. A fork in the road, for your career. Your life, really. Right, yeah. I went to Canarís like any good tourist. I had more money than I’d ever had in my life. I had no plans. Sounds like a dream. It was.
Crucially, I was out of my mind most of the time. Kite high. So fucking high. I swear I almost drowned twice, at which point it was politely suggested that I stop using the pool. Did you politely agree? Fuck no. [Laughs] Troublemaking aside, I ended up taking phone calls, making plans with people—Industry people? Yeah. There were people I knew already, but meeting the ones I really wanted to work with happened kind of organically—parties, premieres for other films, cafes. At the Morningstar Cafe in Canarís? Right, exactly. Same way I ended up finding The Den. Someone at the cafe had worked with Karolina Teague, and she took me there one evening after we all got tossed out of some poor son of a bitch’s house. Sounds rowdy. Can’t blame him. It was after midnight. And? Well, it was a lunch that’d started at eleven in the morning, so. [Chuckles]
So, I have a question. You’re pretty consistent—in terms of behavior. “Behavior?” [Snorts] Yeah, okay, I understand. What was that like, with cameras on you? The photographers in Uspana definitely aren’t less aggressive. That’s part of it. I don’t know if I’d call it an epiphany, but I left Canarís for Nakawe with the understanding that I was going to just do what I wanted to do. Oh boy. Within reason, fuck. Reason. Sure, yes. You didn’t feel like a dumb kid anymore. I mean, I guess I have more fun with the camera guys here. They can get away with more, ergo, so can we.
I distinctly recall you got arrested for—I barely touched that guy or his fucking camera. Did him a favor, if I did. Dogshit quality device. [Chuckles] Not sure he saw it that way, but the charges were dropped. I mean, don’t get me wrong, shouldn’t have reacted that way. I kept thinking about my mom seeing those pictures … The one time I got picked up, she backhanded me in the middle of the station, right in front of the cops. Jesus. In the car, she goes, “If you get caught again, I’m going to rip your ears off.” Empty threat, I guess.
The Den—I want to talk about that. Please, let’s. Your first time there? It was with Karolina, like I said, and there was a local band playing that night. They’d wrapped up their set by the time we arrived and were just … jamming on the stage, taking feedback and requests from the people who were still there. Some kind of funky jazz mash-up. I liked it. How did it come to you? It opened in ‘57 as a bar and, at some point, it turned into more of a music venue open to a certain segment of Nakawe. The guy who owned it gave exposure to a lot of people who went on to really do something with their art, and that’s why it ended up being a somewhat exclusive spot. Celebrities already knew it and brought their friends. Uh huh. I could stroll up, and the cameras weren’t with me because they were already there. He got tired of that, I think—He was an older fella, right? Yeah. But, really, he managed other properties, and The Den wasn’t his passion project the way it’s become for me. So, you had the money and took it off his hands.
What goes on in there? [Laughs] Pat, you’ve been inside. Well, not for me! If I’m going to describe it to people who’ll never go inside, what would I say? I mean, it’s a hangout spot. It’s a performance venue. We had, uh, mimes last month. Truly gifted, those people. [Laughs] Really? I don’t come up with all of the ideas myself, but I only agree to the shit I’m interested in. It’s kind of selfish, but I guess I’m lucky to know a lot of people who’ll toss in five dollars to enjoy it. It’s something. Compelling. I mean it. Thanks. That’s not all, though. I mean, you describe it as a “haven.” It’s very private. Some of your regulars are troubled individuals. Damn, Patricia, just say it. I feel like a cop! “Do you condone drug use in your establishment?” nonsense. But, well … I’m not explaining it. Either you—they, whoever the hell—get it or don’t. Come for the music, come to unwind however you like, doesn’t fucking matter to me as long as you’re coming with an invitation. I like to go in the back room, close the door, let the music and noise seep through. Muffled. You don’t really strike me as a partier, frankly. You never have. I wouldn’t argue with that. I like parties, but I don’t need to be at the center. Some do. That’s fine. This place is for us all.
Maybe it works out because of that, that you’re curating this space but not necessarily always in it? What do you mean? Well, you reopened it and then, if memory serves, immediately went off to do a film. The party kept going. You just like to know it’s happening. Alright, sure. That’s true. Knowing it’s there … Yeah. I like it. I was in that back room, thinking about the script, when I decided to do it, actually. Life felt like it was falling into place. It was a good time to take a leap. “’You are going to be a cowboy?’” “’No, I’m going to be a farmer.’” I had that conversation a thousand times. Reporters, man. Hey! Everyone was so surprised. I think they thought the premise was … I don’t know, that it just wasn’t something I would want to do? Or, worse, that the filmmakers wouldn’t want to work with someone like me? Unflattering assumptions, sounds like. Can’t blame them. I had a lot to prove. Still do.
How was six weeks in Texict? Fucking heaven. I loved it. My mother’s from the northwest so, even when I visited family, it wasn’t anywhere close. No reason to visit until we dropped in to do the film. Every day, I woke up happy to be alive. Happy to be doing this job. Gorgeous. I’m gonna go out on a limb and guess it wasn’t just the location, was it?
No, you’re right. I felt like I was really acting—for the first time, seriously. Maybe the cast helped? I’d worked with established actors before. The leads in Sugar Sweet were—well, you know who they were. I learned a ton from them. But, yeah, I guess Sasha was the first person I’d worked alongside who had me sweating. Oh? I wanted to impress her so fucking badly. I wanted to keep up, you know? So talented. So raw. She rips every line out of her chest with her bare hands. Bloodbath of emotion. The premise was new, too. Not a lighthearted romance this time. No. We were young parents of a ill child—stressed as fuck, trying to make life work, struggling separately to be together. Can’t lie, I ate that shit up. So did the critics. Hell yeah.
Every nomination felt surreal. The recognition was incredible. Validating. Sasha and some of the others swept up. I was just honored to be up there with them, honestly. Okay, well, let’s talk about Sasha. Do we have to? Yes. Indulge me! [Grumbling] I mean, all I can really say at this point is that I was obsessed, and it wasn’t until it was over that I had the clarity of mind to really wonder, hm, “Was I in love with Sasha, my coworker, or was I in love with Sasha playing Lucy, my wife?” That seems like an occupational hazard. I wouldn’t describe it that way. You take sensitive, delusional, beautiful people, pay them to get vulnerable and intimate with each other … It’s special, even if it’s … Not genuine? No, it is that. It’s not real, but it is genuine. How else can you say, “Well, our schedules don’t line up anymore, but I’ll have this scar of our initials forever?” You do not! No, I don’t. The letter S is really hard to cut without fucking up. Not a sober man’s idea. No.
Since I have you on the topic—hey, no, absolutely not—I’m obligated to ask if there’s anyone in your life right now. How’s that? Women’s magazines can snap this up and stitch it together for themselves. This is a public service. Patricia … Yes, Lorencio?
Look, I know you do your research. I do. I’m very good at it, too. What’s that like, princess pus—Pat. Pat, I’m begging you—Are you obsessed? The letter L is easier, I bet. It is. Would you go with another L or an R?
I’m not talking about this—not for you to print, anyway. Well, talk to me as a friend, then? I’m not just professionally nosy. We’re friends? Who else calls me Pat and gets away with it? You haven’t been Trish in a long time, it’s true … [Sighs] Fuck. Someone can be precious, right? Lovable. You can hold them in your hands and think, “This person matters to me. They’re special. I like to be around them; I like to listen to them; I want their affection.” You can really, genuinely cherish someone.
But? Maybe you find their life to be completely fucking repellent. Unbearable. … Damn.
There’s parallels, though, right? I mean, fame is fame, there’s got to be value in relatability, and—There’s an open mic going on downstairs in the hotel bar right this minute. Let’s take a break, Pat, what do you say? Let’s just go watch some of it. I’ll let you print dick measurements and my deepest, darkest secrets if you say yes. [Laughs] Well, if that’s on the table—
#just gonna toss in a cw#cw drugs#long post#ts4 story#sims story#sims 4 story#royal sims#simblr#ts4 legacy#1992.story.post#1992.a1#1992.e04
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KAWAII -
[ ot7 x reader ]
SLUT CENTRAL 🤮
———————————
8 participants - 8 online
jin: so i just raised a slut like???
namjoon: ??
y/n: RIGHT ITS INSANE
jk: ur a father?
tae: where the sluts at lol
yoongi: honestly i could throw up
jimin: if i raised jungkook i would not be taking credit for that shit just saying
hobi: you raised me up
jk: i’m the slut? ☹️
jin: YES YOU ARE WHY
ARE YOU HALF NAKED ON WEVERSE
WHAT IS UR ISSUE???
jk: jimin did it first
jimin: UMM EXUSE ME????
IT WAS FOR YOUR BIRTHDAY MIGHT I ADD
DONT DRAG ME INTO UR MESS
hobi: wasn’t namjoon half naked the other day too?
namjoon: this isn’t about me
y/n: whores the lot of you!
tae: namjoon the biggest whore
namjoon: again this isn’t about me
tae: ok mr automatic dick
hobi: who was the automatic bitch?
y/n: what does that even mean
namjoon: yoongi was the one talking about his tongue technology
yoongi: ??????
leave me alone wtf
tae: ur all nasty
hobi: be honest are you a virgin
tae: ME????
ARE YOU SILLY LOOK AT ME
hobi: looking
i see a virgin
tae: if anyone is a virgin it’s jin
jin: okay wtf not true at all
jimin: he’s lived for like 79 years there’s no way he’s a virgin lmao
y/n: i mean think about that one photo
with the comdoms in the back
jin BEEN fucking!!
hobi: #kingsize
jin: i mean what can i say
jimin: you picked up the wrong size?
jin: kill yourself?
namjoon: could we not talk about the size of jin’s dick please and thank you
tae: right pls stop guy me and namjoon are getting turned on
jk: it’s ok me 3
jin: what
y/n: what
namjoon: what????
yoongi: strangling jungkook gotta feel better than opiates i just know it in my heart
jimin: retweet
tae: bro said retweet 😭😭😭😭
his ass is NOT on twitter 🤣🤣
y/n: you are so unfunny it makes me want to punch things
tae: i’m so into that
y/n: burn
tae: ummmm?
y/n: alive
tae: don’t hate me cuz you want to passionately kiss me on the mouth
y/n: would rather get shot 450 times
tae: fuck you never speak to me again
y/n: finally
tae: guys i miss her 😕💔
WRONG CHAT
WRONG CHAT FUCK YOU BYE
hobi: wow
jk: guys let’s start using tone indicators!
yoongi: ur ugly /srs
jk: ok nvm!
jimin: and she said she said she’s from hawaii /srs
namjoon: …
hobi: do you know how to say cute in japanese? /srs
jk: i do i do i do
namjoon: please stop
tae: did someone say japan lol???
jin: when you said bye i had hope you would be gone for more that 2 seconds
y/n: he said japanese
jimin: idiot
tae: they call me senpai down under
yoongi: ?
jk: in australia??
tae: tf is an australia??
yoongi: what the actual fuck is wrong with you?
tae: did you mean astronaut?
jk: maybe…
y/n: you didn’t
jk: i didn’t
hobi: naur
jin: pls don’t do this again
hobi: naur i have to mate
tae: somone call me senpai rn see what happens
y/n: no
jin: is he’s gonna do something weird?
i feel like he’s gonna do something weird
pls don’t do something weird
jk: let’s find out!!!
namjoon: let’s not!
jk: senpai~
tae: nnnuugghhhhhhhhh 😫
jin: told u
tae: what’s up baby 😉
yoongi removed tae from “SLUT CENTRAL 🤮”
jimin: i HATE jungkook
jk: /srs ?
jimin: /srs
jk: FUCK
hobi: personally if i was to ever get hit by a car i would just get up and walk away
like thats so embarrassing
am i a pussy?
absolutely NOT
jk: hobi btw i do know how to say cute in japanese
namjoon: what if your legs were badly hurt?
hobi: namjoon idk about YOU but hoseok is definitely gonna walk it off
namjoon: why are you talking in 3rd person?
jk: do you want to know how to say cute in japanese??
i can tell you
yoongi: no
jk: k y ee
y/n: oh my god
yoongi removed jk from “SLUT CENTRAL 🤮”
jimin: did he just say that
like fr
k y ee?
as in kawaii
im not hallucinating right
jin: unfortunately not
hobi: i need a car
it’s time to hit a couple people
yoongi: talking to them kills me inside
jin: i’m here for u yoongi
yoongi: and you
jin: hobi make sure you hit him too
jin added tae to “SLUT CENTRAL 🤮”
jin added jk to “SLUT CENTRAL 🤮”
jin: karma
tae: sometimes i call the number on missing dog posters and just bark
jk: hi guys i’m back thx for adding me back jin hi guys i’m back did you miss me cuz i’m back now so it’s ok
namjoon: you bark?
tae: so they think it’s their dog trying to contact them
but it’s not
cuz it’s me
jimin: why would they think it’s their dog?
how tf a dog gonna use a phone
tae: dogs don’t normally use phones?
guess yeontan just built different 🤷🏻♂️
i mean what do you expect from a son of mine
hobi: he’s built different cuz you don’t feed him
y/n: LAMSOSOKSKD THAT IS NOT FUNNY AT ALL YOU CANT SAY THAT OH MY GODJDJDJDJJFJFN
jimin: HELP THATS CRAZY
yoongi: wow
namjoon: guys please
jin: INSANE HOSEOK INSANE
tae: ok that was not funny at all
i look after him
really well actually
..
i swear
i feed him
i do
jk: i believe you tae
tae: you do? 🥺
jk: yeah
tae: thanks jungkook i love you
jk: ok
tae: ok?
jk: ok?
tae: okay
jk: okay
tae: fucking whore whose the other woman then??
jk: guys help i’m really scared rn
jimin: omg speaking of that fucking mutt
tae: MUTT???
jimin: bro has NO stage presence at ALL
expressions lame as hell and all he did was run around trying to get camera time he looked a fool
hobi: dozen core
y/n: was his first performance pls don’t make fun of him he’s trying his best :(((
jimin: his best wasn’t good enough
tae: HE WORKED VERY HARD FOR THAT STAGE
jimin: it did not show
jk: bam could of done it better
yoongi: would of shit on stage
jimin: still would of been better than whatever yeontan was doing
tae: can you leave him alone omg
he was nervous
jimin: i’ll cook him
hobi: do you know how to say cute in japanese?
jk: yes
i do
namjoon: stop
jk: i can give you a hint if you don’t know namjoon
namjoon: jungkook please don’t talk to me
jimin: he’s losing it guys
y/n: lowkey hot
i love a man on the edge
tae: just say ur a slut
y/n: ??
yoongi: tae shut the fuck up
jimin: that so screams i have never felt the touch of a woman before
tae: how tf u think i made yeontan?
jk: you fucked a dog??????
tae: wait no wtf
jk: oh MH GOD GUYS TAE FUCKED A DOG
that’s illegal
i hope
OHMY GOD CALL TBE POLICE
hobi: that’s gross i’m gonna throw up
tae: THATS NOT TRUE HES LYING I DIDNT STOP PLS
jin: where is namjoon when you need him change the the subject i’m begging you
namjoon: i think i'm having a psychotic break rn
y/n: holds you and whispers it's gonna be okay
jimin: kill your neighbor kill your neighbor kill your neighbor
tae: GUYSBPLS BELIEVE ME
IM CRYING
SOBBING PLS
IM GONNA THROW UP EVERYWHERE
IVE HAD SEX
WITH A WOMAN BEFORE NEVER A DOG
PLS IM TELLINV THE TRUTH PLS
GIYS
PLS HWLLO
GIUSYSSSJSJJDD
PLEASE
y/n: can’t wait for the day it’s gc gets leaked
we will all be locked up
jimin: severing 10 years not even that bad if you think about it
yoongi: tae severing at least 25
tae: NOT TRUE
namjoon serving life
little drug abuser
y/n: be fr the worst drug joon has done is take 4 paracetamols at one time
jk: 4?????
WOW JOON U CRAZY
namjoon: no
hobi: caught namjoon sipping lean on august 13th 2023 10:45 pm
namjoon: no you didn’t
hobi: u right i didn’t
sorry guys i like to lie
jin: that’s a problem actually
hobi: i’m working on it
tae: work harder
jimin: tell ur dog that
tae: CAN YOU LEAVE HIM ALONE
yoongi: can you come over
tae: yeah
yoongi: wrong chat mb
and why tf would i be taking to you
tae: i’m gonna shoot myself
jin: who you inviting over yoongi omg 🙈
should i bring you a nda??
jk: nine dead animals?
y/n: no jungkook
jk: oh
namjoon: breathe in breathe out
jk: personally i’m worried if i give good head or not because no one has ever willingly asked me to give them head so is my head that bad you don’t even want me to try
jin: invest in a diary pls
jk: cant i’m lacktoes intolerant :(
jimin: lactose?
y/n: and the way thats not even true
hobi: the head or the lactose part?
tae: trust me bro ur head crazy good
jk: fr?
tae: fr
it’s so good girls afraid to ask
jk: girls?
tae: boys?
jk: boys???
tae: people????
jk: what people??
tae: you have like people ur fucking right?
jk: no?
tae: what?
jk: no people
jimin: are you expecting a rando to just to ask you to given them head?
jk: no?
jin: i’m so confused
jk: y/n
y/n: yes?
yoongi: no
y/n: ?
namjoon: moving on
hobi: you think tae’s dog can learn black swan?
tae: he has a name yk?
hobi: say my name say my name
jk: jung hoseok
hobi: thx
jk: yes
k y ee
namjoon left “yeontan ugly”
tae: THE GC NAME??????
WHO DID THAT
y/n: poor joonie see what you guys do to him?
jimin: bet he’s gone to see his automatic bitch
hobi: robot sex
yoongi: what??
hobi: cyber sex doja cat
jin: illuminati
jk: when did he become poor thats so sad i’m here for him if he ever needs ¥
yoongi: why would he need yen?
jk: who is yen?
tae: NO IM SO FR WHO CHANGED THE GC NAME TO THAT
ITS NOT TRUE BTW
MY BABY TAKES AFTER ME
jimin: oh no i’m praying for him ❤️
tae: IT WAS U WASNT IT
ALWAYS KNEW U WERE A JELOUS LOSER
jk: guys ur not being very k y ee rn
yoongi: i’m going to skin you alive
#bts crack#bts fanfic#bts fluff#bts imagines#bts fic#bts text#bts x reader#bts x y/n#bts x you#namjoon x reader#jin x reader#yoongi x reader#hoseok x reader#jimin x reader#taehyung x reader#jungkook x reader#bts texts#rm x reader#suga x reader#v x reader#jhope x reader#hobi x reader#bts fake chats#bts incorrect texts
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Hi there cutiepie
Thought I'd jump in to request
I was thinking like Michael Afton X reader after a fighr reader sleeps on the couch (sfw)
Ofcourse if your comfy writing that!! I did read rules so I'm hoping for it to be okay. (Also reader can be either female or gender neutral I don't mind either so I'd leave it up to you to decide with what you prefer writing)
Anyways darling have a nice day and don't forget to eat ( ◜‿◝ )♡
Ee this request is cute as hell. No one's ever called me cutiepie before, got me blushing over here 😘 Thank you so much for such a lovely ask.
I hope this is alright, I can never judge if this kind of thing is actually decent lol.
Anywhooo, michael x gn reader - Sleeping on the sofa (sfw angst with fluff)
"What do you mean 'no'- it's your turn!" your boyfriend interrogated, he looked more than annoyed, mocking how you spoke the word no.
You snigger as reflex, a little taken aback at how angry he was already, you'd only just walked in the door. You let your shoulder bag slide off and on to the floor, shruging sarcastically, "Mike I called you and said I was going to be late - I've had Hell on at work - you really haven't made plans for dinner?!"
"It's your turn." He reiterates, taking his eyes off you as he realised that he probably was in the wrong, but stubbornness making him double down.
"You could have ordered something- you really expect me to cook right now?!" As you spoke, you approach your boyfriend irritated, holding your watch up for him to see, "It's half ten, Mike. Half fucking ten."
He scoffed, "So what am I-"
Keep reading
"Find something, Mike. I swear to God." you hiss. You have to walk away from him to stop this from escalating because if he keeps talking to you so entitled you're going to snap. Well, snap more than you just did.
Storming upstairs, you go in a shower which does nothing to calm you down. In fact it does the opposite, making you more heated, replaying the look of 'hard-done-by' on Michael's face. By the time you're done and hop out, you decide you can't even look at him, grabbing your pillows and a blanket off the bed.
He appears whilst you’re mid action, opening his mouth to say something but it dies in his throat when you throw him the dirtiest look he's ever seen. "Fine." he mutters, walking straight past you into the bathroom.
You make yourself a nest on the sofa downstairs, hoping Mike knows to keep away right now, and eventually fall asleep with some tv show blaring in the background.
~
Laid in your usually shared bed upstairs, Michael tosses and turns. He felt guilty. Which he supposed was just, really. You had a long day and he didn’t even ask you how it was, just went off on you, took his stress out on you. And now the hunger-fueled anger had subsided, he was sober to that and the guilt wouldn’t let him drift off.
So he got up, didn’t bother putting a shirt on and went downstairs as quietly as he could, trying not to disturb your sleeping form snuggled on the sofa. But seeing you there, you looked so sweet, your brows not furrowed like they had been earlier, your mouth not pressed into that tired hard line, he smiled a little just at the view before going into the kitchen and getting a glass of water.
You woke up to the tap running in the adjacent room, the sound obnoxiously loud in the quiet of the house, you peer over your blanket waiting for him to walk back in, “Really? I was-” you start, but he puts his hands up in surrender, one holding the glass.
“Look I’m sorry... About waking you up but also… earlier, I don’t know why I-”
You cut him off, sitting up to talk properly.“You were being a prick, Mike.” It was hard to keep your tone as mean as you wanted it at seeing the sheepish look on his face.
“I know, sorry.”
You crack, his apologetic voice working. And so, you scooch back on the cushions, making some room for him and lifting up the blanket for him to get in. Instead he scoops you and all your belongings off the piece of furniture, somehow making it look easy, and bundles you in his arms.
You giggle, his arms tickling you. Though to be honest you’re glad to not be arguing anymore, even more glad to be able to sleep in your own bed.
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"Out for love."
just total yuri
"And to think someone as worthless as you landed Lilith's little hottie." Adam's words rang through Vaggie's head.
Charlie was going through the streets, helping others who survived the extermination and such. She was walking through the alley way before seeing a person infront of her. The "sinner" was clearly in pain. Charlie walked towards them, noticing the details of her pain. A missing eye. She said nothing as she silently crouched down and bandaged over the eye, after the short moment ended, the sinner smiled. Charlie took in her details, short hair, on the shorter side, as the sinner gave a weak smile. Charlie was caught off guard by this, but for some reason it made her feel warm inside. She quickly looked away, smiling, but then looking back slightly. She held her hand out infront of the sinner, and she took it. "Are you okay to walk?" She asked, only getting a slight nod in return. "I'm Charlie. Daughter of Lucifer! Well, you probably already know that. Heh." Charlie pulled the sinner up by her hand. "Do you have a home I can take you to?" Charlie asked. "No." She answered, not when she was very clearly kicked out of heaven by Adam and Lute. But, she assumed Charlie didn't need to know that. "You can speak! Woah. Anyway! I think it's awesome you managed to survive the extermination looking as well as you do, besides the missing eye. And, you don't have a home? I can take you to my place! My dad has this old castle built for me, and you can crash there! I'm pretty sure it has a guest room." "Thank you.. You're kinder than any demon I've ever hea- met." Vaggie responded, she could put on a sinner facade, right? Just act like she normally does but replace angel terminology with demon terminology, easy! She had learnt alot about hell when training to be an exorcist. "Thanks! I try to be very nice. But, not many people respect me. You're one of the nicer sinners that have let me help them. Most people just tell me to go fuck myself or something like that. I get it though. It's hell!" Charlie responded, walking in the direction of her castle. As they walked up to the castle, the sinner looked in amazement. It was huge. Like, really huge. "This is where you live? Alone?" "Not really alone, I have Razzle and Dazzle with me! And KeeKee." "Who?" "Razzle and Dazzle are my bodyguards, they're tiny goats! KeeKee is a cat that can turn into a key, used for unlocking anything built and locked by my dad or me!" "That's, really, that's a lot." Vaggie smiled, though. She'd always had to endure Adam's basic misogynistic rambles, always talking about some 'bitch' who wouldn't subserve to him, but with Charlie, it felt nice for her to ramble. "So, you never told me your name." Charlie looked at her, she only thought. Vag-Gy, which sounded like "vagina" wasn't an appropriate pronunciation for a sinner, she could change it to the name she was called by Lute and other exorcists, as only Adam called her by that nickname. "Hello?" "D'ah- Sorry. It's.. Vaggie." Vaggie answered, Vag-ee was a better pronunciation, she decided. "That's a nice name! I hope you don't mind living with me, I never really gave you an option, did I?" "No, it's fine. Better than living on the streets." "We've been standing in front of the castle for awhile. Uh, let's go in!" Charlie grabbed Vaggie's hand and dragged her inside. "I'll show you to your room, and I'm pretty sure I have some clothes you can use for the night." "Thanks, again. You're one of the kindest people I've ever met, even when I was human." That was a lie, she was never human. But, the taller girl didn't seem to notice. It was fine. "Really? That's so sad! Maybe I can start a chain of events!" "Maybe you can." "Okay! Here's the guest room, if you want I can get rid of the decorative pillows. Nobody really uses this room. I'll go see if I can find Razzle and Dazzle. They're gonna love you!" Vaggie watched as Charlie walked off to go find her bodyguards. She really thought she was just gonna pass out and die right there in the alley way, but she didn't. Charlie saved her. She was different, much like how she had heard Emily was. She took off the decorative pillows and just laid there, on the bed.
#chaggie#yuri#hazbin hotel#Charlie x vaggie#hazbin hotel charlie#hazbin hotel vaggie#hazbin hotel adam#I had no idea there was a text limit for posts on tumblr#if it feels unfinished to y'all I can finish it on Ao3#just lmk#no beta btw we die like adam
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Ee Varsham Sakshiga [With the Rain as Our Witness]
My submission for #varadevaloveday!
On the way back from Vedha's housewarming party, Deva and Varadha run into a storm. They take shelter in a hut, and Varadha suggests Truth or Dare. Which is a terrible game to play when you've been pining over your best friend for more than two decades.
Or: Modern AU Varadeva
-
“If you’re tired, go to sleep, raa,” Deva tells Varadha, breaking the sound of raindrops hitting the windshield of their rental car.
Damn, Varadha thinks.
Was Varadha tired? Yes. Was he actually pretending to be sleeping so he could ogle the other man? Also yes. Now he could either deny it, forcing himself to stay awake when his eyes probably wouldn’t stay open after the next few minutes and look like an idiot, or he could actually go to sleep, missing out on the wonderful sight of Deva driving. The angle at which he lifted the arm closest to Varadha as he steered was enough to ensure Varadha could see the muscle hidden beneath Deva’s dress shirt, a rare article of clothing for someone who usually preferred ratty T-shirts or tank tops. Deva had complained about it, of course.
“Why the fuck were these torture devices invented?” Deva had snapped, fed up with being unable to fasten the tie to his neck. Varadha, already dressed up, had just laughed at him.
“How are you, at your big age, unable to tie a tie?”
Deva just pouted, eyes pleading. And how could Varadha resist that?
He had obliged, sliding off his perch on Deva’s desk to help him. Varadha’s fingers had felt like they were touching a live wire with every brush of his fingers against Deva’s neck, and the scent of Deva’s cologne so close hadn’t helped matters.
“There, now you won’t look like a hobo at Vedha’s housewarming party,” Varadha jokes.
“Vedha dresses just like me,” Deva complains.
“Not today, he won’t.”
Varadha had been right, all of their friends had shown up wearing some of their best. Not as fancy as the suits they had been wearing for the wedding a few months ago, but still classy.
Now, the tie had been loosened, laying around his neck in a way that had Varadha imagining different circumstances. It did nothing to conceal the way the first few buttons on Deva’s shirt had been loosened, exposing Deva’s chest. Hence, the secret ogling. Varadha pushes down the instinctive fear that Deva had realized what was going on, that he had somehow found out about Varadha’s feelings. If Deva hadn’t realized in the last thirty years they had known each other, he damn well wasn’t figuring it out now.
“Alright,” Varadha sighs. “My wonderful driver, wake me up when we get to your home.”
Varadha closes his eyes and leans onto the window, smiling at the chuckle he hears. The sound is more of a deep rumble with Deva’s voice, and it’s heavenly. Still smiling, Varadha lets thoughts of Deva lull him into sleep.
-
The sound of the wipers furiously scrubbing the windshield breaks Varadha out of his nap. He opens his eyes to see a blur of water droplets and vague images of the road ahead of them.
“Arey, em kanipisthundi ra neeku? [Dude, what can you see?]” He scoffs. “The rain’s gotten so much worse.”
Deva grits his teeth. “I’m fine. Go back to sleep.” Varadha makes an incredulous sound, drawing Deva’s attention. He can see Deva briefly turn to him out of the corner of his eyes, and his tone softens. “Really, raa. It’s fine; it’s a straight road until we reach the state border. By that time the rain’s probably gonna be better.”
“You don’t know that-” Varadha gasps in the middle of his sentence. “DEER!”
Deva swerves on the wheel, slamming the breaks. They narrowly miss the brown creature annoyingly parked in the middle of the fucking road, and the action sends them hydroplaning onto the other lane where they stop.
Varadha takes a second to calm himself, and Deva quickly turns to Varadha to scan him for injuries. They hadn’t even hit the deer, for fuck’s sake, but something in Varadha warms to see Deva being protective over him. However, the warmth won’t stop him from teasing the other man. After all, it was one of his favorite activities.
“What are you looking at? Koncham road atu pothene gaayalosthaya? [Just because we went a little bit out of the lane will I suddenly have injuries?]”
Seemingly satisfied with his scan, Deva just rolls his eyes. “Ah? Rani gariki antha sukhamgane unda ani, check chesthunna [Just checking to see if Her Majesty is still comfortable].”
Varadha half-heartedly smacks Deva’s arm, before his eyes land on the dashboard GPS.
“Rey, there’s no signal here,” he points out.
Deva starts the car, pulling it into first gear. “I don’t need a GPS to tell me where to go.”
“Mahanubhavuda [Oh great man],” Varadha says, folding his hands sarcastically, “You can do whatever you want when you’re by yourself. Me personally, I don’t want to get lost outside in this rain. Stop by the side of the road. Let’s wait for the GPS to figure its shit out.”
“I told you already, it’ll be fine-” Deva’s interrupted by the sound of the tires hitting a pothole, and they both wince as they jolt in their seats.
Varadha scans what he can see of the road, and finds a small hut coming up by the side, a few feet in.
“Rey, rey, rey, there’s something there, stop!” He taps Deva’s arm in succession. “We can wait out the storm.”
Deva sighs but acquiesces. He pulls over to the side, in front of the structure, which looks more like a hut now that Varadha can get a less blurry look at it. Deva turns to look at Varadha, giving him a happy now? look.
Varadha just grins at him. For all his teasing, for all his insults, Deva would agree to do anything Varadha asked of him when the time came. Varadha slowly curls his hand around the door handle.
“Last one to the hut pays for gas!” He barely finishes before he gets out. The rain pelts his back as he lifts a hand above his head, trying and failing to keep his hair dry. Varadha hears an indignant shout and a “Vara!” muffled behind him, and suppresses the giggle that wants to climb out of him as he enters the hut.
First, he thinks smugly as he observes the interior. Never mind that he had had the advantage there. Not like Deva hadn’t ever pulled some shit like this before. Tom and Jerry, Deva’s mom had lovingly called them as kids when they wouldn’t stop fighting when Varadha came over. Only she had realized that behind each prank, behind each childish insult, was a deep bond of love, and that fighting with each other was just the way they expressed their affection. They could go from happily playing with toys, to getting into a wrestling match, to guiltily soothing each other, all within the span of a few minutes.
Varadha briefly spares a thought to the fact that Atha [aunt/mother-in-law] might be worried that they hadn’t come back home yet. There was nothing to do now, though. A quick glance at his phone shows no bars, just as he had expected. He and Deva would just have to apologize once they got to his home.
Deva runs in a second later, almost knocking Varadha over. He frowns as he examines what he can see of the cramped space they’re now in. Varadha pulls on the wire near his face, and is rewarded with a flickering, weak light above their heads. Now that they can see better, it’s clear the hut wasn’t meant for someone to live in. Neither of them would be able to lie down flat on the floor, the rounded walls would prevent that.
“Rey Vara-”
Oh, Varadha can’t take that tone. That gentle, you deserve so much better tone. He sits down fully, resting his back to the wall, before Deva finishes. He glares up at Deva, still standing, who just looks exasperated.
“I’m fine,” Varadha stresses, and what a reversal that is.
Deva hesitates for a few more seconds before he gives up and joins him, sitting across so their calves touch.
Varadha hates these moments. He loves now living with Deva and Atha, and being able to be around Deva more. If he has to adjust to living less lavishly than he had growing up, that’s a sacrifice he’s willing to make.
Deva doesn’t see it that way, though. Every time Varadha’s had to eat leftover rice, take public transportation, stand in the hot sun for more than a few minutes, he gets this look on his face, some combination of guilt and anger, the latter emotion only for Varadha’s ex-family, of course. It never seems to get into his head that Varadha’s fine with this, that he’s not so soft as to consider any of these more than minor inconveniences. Deva had been both elated and sad to hear that Varadha and Baachi had left the Mannars.
Elated because he had been there for all of the times Varadha’s family had humiliated, hurt, and insulted them, all for the crime of being born to a different mother. It had been Varadha who had kept Deva from trying to get back at his siblings numerous times for the shit they had put him through. Sad, because it meant Varadha was leaving his comfortable life with his wealthy family, to come tough it out inside Deva’s apartment, which was barely big enough for Deva and Atha by themselves.
Well, the Raisans being in that situation was Raja Mannar’s fault in the first place, but Varadha was genuinely happy to live with Deva, and his decision had nothing to do with his separate secondhand guilt for the way Deva and Atha had to live their lives as he grew up with all of his basic needs automatically taken care of. Baachi had figured out a roommate situation with his own boyfriend, Rinda, and Varadha had begrudgingly accepted, not before attempting a shovel talk (successful, Rinda looked terrified) and a lecture on using protection (unsuccessful, Baachi had all but shoved him out the door after that).
Fuck. Now they’re both upset, and there’s a storm raging outside. Varadha can hear faint thunder in the distance, and he knows with their luck the storm will pass right over them.
He tries to think of something that’ll lighten the mood, something to do to pass the time. Varadha nudges Deva’s foot with his own, to get Deva’s attention. He had been staring morosely at the ground, but he looks up to meet Varadha’s eyes.
“Truth or dare?” Varadha asks.
Deva just raises an eyebrow, and Varadha flushes.
“I don’t see you coming up with something. Either figure something out or answer the question,” Varadha demands.
Deva sighs. “Sare [Ok], raa. Dare.”
Varadha looks around the hut. What the fuck could he even dare Deva to do here?
Deva seems to also realize this, and snickers. Oh, it’s on, Varadha thinks. Both of them had competitive streaks, and the best way to provoke was to act like the other was powerless.
“I dare you to spend thirty seconds outside.”
Deva’s jaw drops. “It’s raining!”
“Exactly. Get out.”
Deva rolls his eyes, but dutifully crawls outside to lie in the grass for thirty seconds. Varadha definitely doesn’t admire the way the water droplets run across his skin.
When he comes back inside, he’s fully soaked, and Varadha realizes he’s made a mistake. The space is so small the puddles that Deva makes flow over to where Varadha is.
Deva suddenly leans over Varadha, and before he can react, roughly shakes his head so the droplets in his hair land onto Varadha’s face. Varadha sputters, jumping away, and Deva laughs back to his spot on the floor.
“Kukka [dog],” Varadha mutters, as Deva’s laughter slowly trails off.
“Ok, my turn,” Deva says, still grinning widely. “Truth or Dare, Vara?”
Well, Varadha’s not going to pick dare. “Truth.” Deva opens his mouth, then closes it. Varadha smirks at him. “Whatever diabolical plan you had, it’s not happening.”
Deva pouts. “Damn, I gotta actually think of something to ask you now.” His brows knit together in concentration. “What don’t I know about you?”
A good question, actually. They had been inseparable ever since they had been introduced as toddlers, the sons of Raja Mannar and Dhaara Raisan. Every joy, every sorrow in their lives, they had shared with each other.
“Do you actually approve of Rinda, or are you just ok with it for Baachi’s sake?”
That’s easy. “He’s an idiot, but not bad.” Not bad, Deva mouths at him, and Varadha flips him off, grinning. “He’s higher on my list than most other people, at least. And I trust Baachi to keep him in line.”
They smile at each other for a few more seconds.
“My turn. Truth or dare?”
“Truth.”
Varadha flicks an eyebrow, and Deva rolls his eyes once more. “You could barely come up with a dare last time. There’s nothing to do in here. Might as well make it a truth game.” He doesn’t like it, but Varadha can see the logic in that.
“Alright.” He racks his brain for what he can ask Deva that he doesn’t already know. “Have you ever had a crush on anyone? Obviously, someone you didn’t tell me about.”
Nice going Varadha , he thinks. Totally subtle.
But Deva just contemplates it. Like there actually was an answer to that that wasn’t, Are you out of your mind? If there was someone I would’ve told you.
“Promise me.” Varadha says, suddenly. “Promise me that everything you say for the rest of the game is true.” He hopes that if there really were secrets between them, this night would change that.
Deva stares, mouth set in a hard line, for long enough that Varadha starts to sweat. Does.. does Deva want to keep secrets from him? Eventually he does lift up his pinky. “I swear.”
Varadha gives him a Look, now trusting him even less. Deva sighs. “I pinky swear, on our friendship, that I’ll tell the truth.” He then quickly links the pinky with Varadha’s. “And Varadharaja Mannar will also tell the truth.” Varadha opens his mouth, and then closes it. Well, he’d be a hypocrite if he didn’t agree to the deal as well. Complete honestly from both, then.
“Sare, sare [Ok, ok]. Now answer the question.”
Deva looks at the ground for the first time, not being able to meet Varadha’s eyes. “Yes,” he mumbles, and Varadha’s heart sinks.
“My turn,” Deva says, quickly. “Have you..” He hesitates, but forges on. “Have you ever went all the way with anyone?”
“Have I had sex, you mean?”
“I’m just curious,” he defends himself. “Isn’t that the kind of question you would ask in a Truth or Dare game?”
“Yes,” Varadha answers honestly, to his first question. Deva takes in that information, eyes unreadable. “Now you. Do you still feel that way for that person?”
Deva closes his eyes, as if expecting a reaction from Varadha. “...Yes.”
Oh. Varadha forces a laugh. “Rasikudive, raa nuvvu [you’re really a player],” he jokes. “Pakkane mogudni pettukoni vere valla gurinchi matladthunnavu [you’re talking about other people with your husband right next to you].” The flirtatious banter was an inside joke between them, sometimes referring to each other as their husband or wife in private. It doesn’t seem to land in this moment, where Deva just looks pained.
“Rey..” he starts, and Varadha interrupts.
“It’s your turn to ask me something.”
Deva just looks at him. “Does it bother you? That I said yes to the past two questions?”
Fuck. Varadha hates his past self for suggesting this game. But he had promised. And it’s not like Varadha wasn’t a jealous person in general, even towards people Deva knows he has only platonic feelings for.
“Yes,” he answers. Deva’s eyes widen. Moving on.
“Does the person know you have feelings for them?” They’re getting dangerously close to what Varadha really wants to know, the identity of this mysterious crush of Deva’s.
“No.” Deva says, quickly, but surely. Like that was unquestionable, like he had resigned himself to unrequited feelings a long time ago. “Do you? Have someone you like, I mean.”
Varadha keeps his eyes on Deva, thinking again about how if Deva had suspected anything he probably would’ve done so a long time ago. “Yes.” Deva’s eyes widen once again, and Varadha can see genuine surprise and hurt.
Well, if they were talking about secrets. “Were you the one who beat up Ranga?”
Deva flinches.
Varadha had always felt estranged from his family, but a few years ago, the catalyst for his leaving was Ranga. His brother’s boytoy? Boyfriend? Pet? Varadha still doesn’t know what he is to Rudra, but one day Ranga apparently thought it would be funny to call and withdraw Varadha’s application to his dream university. Varadha had been devastated, but knew better than to start something when Rudra could just as easily do the same to the other colleges he had applied to in retaliation. Let them pay for his college, graduate and then cut them off - this was Varadha’s mantra for higher education.
He had, of course, raged about it in private with Deva. Had broken down, barely eaten dinner that night, slept with his head in Deva’s lap on the couch with Atha glancing worriedly at him. Varadha hadn’t told another soul about it.
The day after, he went home to get a suitcase of his clothes and other belongings thrown at him the second he walked through the door. From the doorway, he could see all his trophies, his certificates, smashed on the living room floor.
Someone had beaten up Ranga that morning. They had beaten him so bad he was in the hospital in a coma. Rudra had furiously enquired as to what happened, and somehow found out about what Ranga did. He had assumed it was Varadha, taking revenge, and had told Raja Mannar. And of course he only focused on the fact that Varadha had hurt someone, not even caring about the reason why. With Radha Rama’s encouragement, he had taken the decision to legally disown Varadha.
That was the last day Varadha stepped foot in that house. He had gone numbly over to Deva’s apartment, holding nothing but his suitcase. Atha had opened the door, taken one look at him and the suitcase, and waved him in, had told him the guest room was always his. When Deva got home, Varadha could see the shock and clear guilt across his face.
He had never asked Deva about it, and Deva didn’t talk about it. Varadha didn’t even blame him. He only felt mildly upset that if Ranga’s face did get smashed in, it wasn’t Varadha that had done it.
“Was it you?” Varadha repeats the question. He knows the answer, of course. He just wants Deva to say something about it, now that they had both sworn to tell the truth.
A shadow of Deva’s guilt that day comes back now, shoulders slumping. “Yes,” Deva whispers. “But you knew that.”
“I did.”
They sit in silence for a few more seconds. Varadha can be patient when he wants to, and can outwait even Deva, a man of few words.
Eventually the tension is too much for Deva. “I’m sorry, raa,” he says, desperate. “I wasn’t thinking, at all. I didn’t expect them to take it out on you. That morning, I woke up still dreaming of your tears, and I couldn’t do anything, think of anything other than fucking that bastard up.” The last part is gritted out. “He’s lucky I didn’t kill him. I definitely wanted to, just for making you cry, for taking away your chances at your dream college.”
Varadha swallows. He knows Deva cares about him more than anything, but to hear it put like that, it’s scary and reassuring at the same time. “You didn’t say anything about it afterwards, though. Even when I came to your house that day.”
Deva closes his eyes. “Does it make me a terrible person if some part of me, some small part of me was glad it happened?”
“Glad?”
“Because.. because it led to you staying with me.” He quickly clears his throat. “With us. Me and Amma.”
Varadha stares. Deva opens his eyes, and winces at whatever he finds on Varadha’s face. “I’m sorry. But it’s the truth. I felt awful for you getting kicked out, I felt awful that I ruined your life. I genuinely wanted to end it all, for a few days.” Varadha remembers the quiet, devastated glances Deva kept sending him all week, when he thought Varadha couldn’t see him. “But then I would see you, eating with us, laughing along with us into the late hours of the night, sleeping in the room that was now yours…” He swallows. Deva doesn’t finish the sentence, but Varadha, so closely attuned with his best friend, could easily tell what he wanted to convey.
They sit in silence as Varadha digests this information, both looking anywhere other than each other. Eventually, Deva leans his head out of the hut, and comes back in, only slightly wet.
He hesitantly tries to tell Varadha, “The storm seems to have broken-”
“Your turn.” Varadha interrupts.
“My what?”
“Your turn.” Varadha nudges him with his foot. “Truth or.. truth I guess.”
“Are you angry at me?” He whispers, looking genuinely scared. Like what Varadha says now would screw with him for the rest of his life. “For what I did?”
Varadha just stares at him, letting Deva squirm.
Finally, he responds, mouth slowly curving into a smile. “Yedava [idiot]. If I actually was mad at you I’d have let you know the day it happened. I’m just mad you didn’t call me when you were beating him up because I had shit to say as well.”
Deva’s jaw drops. “You- you- dongasachinoda [fucking asshole]. You had me thinking you hated me!”
Varadha can’t hold it back anymore, starts laughing uncontrollably. “Your-your face!” He wheezes. “You were so scared!”
Deva attempts to pout but fails to hold back a relieved grin. “Dick.”
“Well, if that’s what you want-,” Varadha winks, then laughs again as Deva attempts to hit him for that. He overshoots, and ends up falling on his face, onto Varadha’s thighs. Deva shifts into a more comfortable position, looking up at Varadha now.
Varadha looks at Deva’s affectionate smile, and thinks back to the admission that Deva had loved having Varadha living with him. Suddenly, Varadha’s a lot less scared about who Deva’s been talking about. He thinks, he hopes, that he’s guessing it correctly. “What’s his name?”
Deva’s smile dims a bit. “Who?”
“It’s my turn, raa. What’s his name, the one you’ve been pining over?”
“How’d you know it was a guy?”
“You can’t ask questions, you only can answer mine. That’s how the game works.”
Deva looks deep into Varadha’s eyes, searching. Finally, he answers. “You seem so confident. Why don’t you answer, and I’ll tell you if it’s right?”
In response, desperately praying to every god he can think of that he’s not fucking this up, not ruining their friendship irrevocably, Varadha leans down and kisses Deva.
There’s a brief moment of shock, a moment where Deva freezes, that Varadha starts panicking.
Oh fuck shit fuck shit shit shit fuck fuck fuuuuuuuck-
Deva pulls back.
I’ve gotta move out I can’t show my face anymore-
He sits up fully, so he’s facing Varadha.
I’ve got to change my name, move to a different country, fuck fuck fuck fuck-
“What was that?” Deva’s face is carefully blank, but Varadha knows his own must be giving all of his feelings away.
“I… thought it was me?” Varadha tries, feeling like a lump of embarrassment. He clears his throat, averting his eyes. “Or not. That’s fine. I’ll just-” He attempts to stand up, trying to push Deva off his lap. Fuck the rain, he’ll walk to Deva's house if that’s what he has to do to get out of here. And immediately start packing his shit once he gets there.
He hears the unmistakable sound of a giggle from Deva, and Varadha snaps his head back around to see Deva with his hands clapped over his mouth. They can’t hide the wide grin he’s struggling to hold back well enough, though.
“What the fuck?”
Deva gives up and tugs Varadha back down, eyes sparkling with mirth. “Oh so only you’re allowed to pretend you’re mad at me?”
“Ohh, you fucker!” Varadha pinches Deva in the side, hard, and Deva yelps, but it doesn’t stop either of their laughter.
Deva pulls Varadha into a kiss, and this time it’s heavenly with both of them reciprocating. Both of their lips are chapped and dry from the lack of food or water, but Varadha doesn’t care. Deva, his Deva, is kissing him.
They pull back, only far enough so Deva can rest his forehead on Varadha’s.
He laughs incredulously. “Let me guess, you’ve also been secretly pining for your best friend all your life.”
“Fucking hell,” is all Varadha says in response, grinning.
“We’re idiots.”
“Yep.”
Deva groans. “Even your brother saw it before we did, he kept teasing us at the party that we showed up together like a couple.”
“I think the whole world saw it before we did,” Varadha sighs. “I don’t know about your mom, though.” Deva winces, and Varadha pulls back, frowning. “What?”
“I might’ve…. told my mom at age six if I was going to marry anyone it was going to be you? And then repeated it when I was twenty-one and she started talking about people I might be interested in?” He grins, embarrassed.
Varadha’s eyes widen as something occurs to him, and Deva immediately starts protesting.
“No, no, it’s not like that-”
“Damn, you really were down bad for me, huh,” Varadha smirks, and Deva groans, hiding his face in Varadha’s chest. “What else, were you doodling our names together in your notebooks with hearts? Were you the one that put that sappy ass love letter in my locker in the ninth grade?” Deva doesn’t say anything, and Varadha bursts out laughing. “Wait, seriously?”
Deva immediately pushes himself out of the light embrace Varadha’s been holding him in, and looks outside. “Well would you look at that, the sun is shining and it’s not pouring anymore.”
Varadha gets to his feet as well, grinning. He’s absolutely delighted at this turn of events, and won’t ever let Deva live this down.
Deva’s about to go outside to the car, cheeks red, when he stops. He hesitantly takes Varadha’s hand in his own, looks at him like Is this okay? Is this too fast?
Varadha just brings the hand up to his lips, presses a kiss to the knuckles. An unspoken It’s very okay.
Deva smiles shyly, and they head out to their car, hand in hand. The combination of the light rain and the bright sun makes a very visible half rainbow at the end of the field across from them, and Varadha smiles.
"Let's go to our home, raa," he says.
-
tags: @deadloverscity @ghostdriftexistence @zici @sambaridli @sometimesbrave @just-a-lazy-person @vijayasena @sinistergooseberries all the other server lovelies as well
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i achoo you
Pairings: Peter Parker x Wade Wilson
Summary: Peter is sick and Wade is smitten.
Whumptober prompt #26 : working to exhaustion / 'you look awful'
Notes: i love this pairing so much ill cry. (also, peter is mid 20s)
masterlist || whumptober2023
"I'm totally 100% definitely dying."
Peter stretched out on the couch, sniffling woefully. His phone was pressed against his left cheek, sticky with sweat.
"Is it that even possible?"
"Yes. Yes it is. And I've got two college essays due in this wee-ee- ACHOO"
Matt let out a laugh, "You know spiders cant actually sneeze?"
"Lucky for the-em- ACHOO"
"This is pathetic, even for you."
"Wow, thanks Red. This is the last time I ever call you for advice."
"Yet you'll call me next week over a stubbed toe no doubt."
Peter could practically hear the eye roll in his voice, frowning as shivers once again decided to wrack his body.
"I dont have any other semi-responsible friends that I can talk to, and I - I dont want to bother May -"
"Dont make me feel sorry for you, or I'll really regret sending the backup."
Peter groaned, "Oh god, who?"
"Blasphemy - and he should be arriving any time now. Foggy's just arriving at the office so I've got to go. Drink lots of water, okay?"
Matt hung up before he could answer, a knock at the door occurring seconds later.
"It's op-ehh-eehhh-ACHOO"
"Say it, don't spray it baby boy!"
Peter groaned again, louder this time, and threw his arm across his eyes. "Why you?"
"That's not a nice way to greet someone bringing you soup!"
Peter made a pathetic noise, halfway between a sniffle and a cough, moving his arm so he could sneak a peek at the merc as he made himself at home in the kitchen.
"That's a pathetic excuse for an apology, but I'm willing to accept it due to your pretty face." Wade was humming quietly to himself as he rummaged around in the cupboard, taking out a bowl with flair and transferring the soup in to it in one smooth motion.
"That wa-aa-as -" Peter paused a moment, waiting to see if the sneeze was about to escape him, continuing as the urge dissipated, "was the most elegant thing I've ever seen you do."
"I dont fuck around with my food," He replied, walking towards the couch, "Unless it's in a sexy-I'm-going-to-lick-chocolate-off-your-body-way, which I'm totally down for any time."
"Charming." Peter rolled his eyes, fighting against his tired muscles and moving into an uneasy sitting position.
"Always for you, baby b- wow. Petey pie, you look awful."
Peter let out a hoarse laugh, accepting the soup with a sarcastic smile.
"Not holding back, huh?"
Wade collapsed backwards on to the ratty futon opposite the couch, throwing his feet up on the coffee table. After wiggling in to a comfortable position, he lifted his mask to just under his nose and popped a bright pink unicorn lollipop into his mouth. "So, how did the amazing spider-man come down with the common cold? I thought you were immune to shit like that."
Peter shrugged, gulping down the soup.
Wade looked around the room for a few moments, sucking loudly on the lollipop. "How about this for a theory: you worked your pretty little butt off, on your daily patrols, part time job and now... college?"
Peter paused his eating for a moment, "Bio-chem."
"Smart and sexy, the whole package!"
"How you find me sexy right now, I have no idea."
Wade slurped extra loudly on the lollipop, looking Peter up and down. "Those hello kitty pyjama pants look good on you. Plus I can't get sick."
"Is that so?"
"Scientifically proven, baby boy. My skins so fucked up because my cells are dying and reproducing every second. Ergo, can't get sick."
"That... proven how, exactly?"
"Trial and error." At Peter's questioning look, he smirked, "There's only so many times you can regrow the majority of your body and not realise that something's funky."
"Funky is one word fo-oor-ACHOOO."
Wade jumped up from his seat, running to his bag and pulling out a disney themed box of tissues. "I came prepared!"
"Princesses? Really?"
"Yes, and look there you are!" He replied, pointing at Cinderella.
"Okay... I'm going to need an explanation."
"She's broke, you're broke. Twins!"
Peter rolled his eyes, though accepted the tissues. Wade laughed, "I guess you're just lucky that I'm here, your knight in shining armour, offering to be your sugar daddy."
"Oh god - don't phrase it like that. I've been getting by on my own just fine, tha-ahhh-ahhh-"
"Bless you."
Peter glared at him. "You jinxed me."
Wade pouted, "Want me to kiss it better?"
At this, Peter threw the tissue box, successfully hitting him in between the eyes.
"Ow!"
Peter grumbled something under his breath, placing the empty soup bowl on the table and burying himself once more into the couch.
"I take back the Cinderella comparison. You're much more like Grumpy Peg-Leg Pete."
Wade laughed at the offended noise emanating from the sofa, finishing his lollipop with a satisfied sigh and jumping up from his seat. "Well, if my assistance is no longer needed..."
"Wait."
Wade grinned, holding his hand up to his ear mockingly, "Sorry what was that? I didn't quite hear you."
Peter huffed, sticking his head fully out of his blankets, enunciating his words clearly. "Don't leave... please."
Wade's grin widened, throwing himself on to the end of the couch, grabbing Peter's feet and placing them on his lap. "I knew you needed me Petey Pie."
"How did you know," the boy replied, sarcasm strong in his tone, "I want you, I need you, oh baby, baby."
The merc's smile didn't drop, relaxing into the chair as he began massaging one of the spider's feet. "Jokes on you, your sarcasm just turns me on more."
"You're insatiable."
"For you? Yes. I'm all the big words. Unquenchable, titillated, concupiscent." He gave a look off to the side, "Thanks for the tutoring Prodigy."
"You -" Peter tried to see what he was looking at, writing it off as one of Deadpool's quirks, "whatever. You missed a word though: persistent."
"How else am I going to get you to admit your deep and passionate love for me?"
Peter rolled his eyes, though didn't offer a rebuttal, instead allowing himself to melt into the pillows as Wade's fingers methodically worked out all the tension in his feet. He let out a sigh, arm thrown over his eyes once again as he willed for the grogginess to leave.
"What's troubling you, baby boy?"
"College essay is due in three days and I still haven't started it."
"Oh?"
"'S all about chemical bonding agents and I - aaaACHOO -" He paused, using his webs to grab the tissue box from across the room and blowing his nose with a pathetic lack of energy before continuing. "I just think that if I think too long about one thing I might die."
"And you can't get an extension?"
"No."
"What about if Bea and Arthur ask?"
"You're not going to threaten my professor with your katanas."
Wade sighed dramatically, but let the issue drop. Now bored, he began to tap out the tune of Grace Kelly on Peter's legs, humming quietly under his breath.
In that moment, the weird domesticity of the scene hit the student, peaking out from under his arm to watch Wade. It felt comfortable, safe in a way that he hadn't felt since developing his powers. He felt cared for. Loved.
Eyes flaring slightly, he pushed that thought away.
"Thank you, 'Pool."
"Hm?"
"Thank you. For coming to look after me."
"Anything to spend time with you and your tight little ass, Petey!"
He snorted, rolling his eyes fondly at the intentional lewdness, gently kicking his chest with his foot. "I mean it."
Wade pressed both hands to his cheeks, shoulders raising as he let out a squeal. "Oh em gee, are you saying what I think you're saying?"
"This is what I get for trying to be serious -"
To Peter's surprise, Wade paused for a moment. When he next spoke, it was with a certain genuineness that he rarely heard from the merc. "I'll always be here for you, no matter what. There's nothing to thank."
Breath caught in his chest, Peter allowed himself to sit up, looking at Wade with new eyes. Without even realising it, his hands had moved to lie on the edges of the mask, waiting for an answer.
"Webs -"
He could feel Wade's breath brush along his palms, finally removing the mask as the merc let out a hesitant nod.
Wade's eyes were blue, deep and endlessly curious.
Mask laid to the side, Peter's eyes rushed to drink in every detail of the man's face, fingers moving across the textured surface with barely restrained admiration.
"I think you're my favourite person."
The confession escaped him, surprising even him with the certainty behind the words.
Wade's eyes sparkle when they smile.
"You're going to make me blush, baby boy."
His eyes flickered to his lips.
"Did you mean what you said... about not caring that I'm sick?"
Wade's eyes widened, wordlessly nodding.
"Good."
Their lips clashed together with unbridled passion, Peter pushing away any doubt he held on to and clinging on to Wade's deceptively strong arms for balance.
The merc met him eagerly, gleeful as he buried his hands into the boy's hair, gripping just hard enough to send a shiver down Peter's spine. At his reaction, Wade smiled, nipping at his lower lip in order to pull another delicious response from him.
The spider had to pull away first, cheeks blazing and chest heaving.
Wade moved one hand down from his hair to cup his cheek, thumb caressing the smooth skin as his eyes searched for any sign of regret. "Webs..."
"I think - I think I lo-oo-ACHOO." He quickly turned away, sneezing into his shoulder.
Wade roared with laughter, offering a tissue as Peter's blush deepened.
"I achoo you too."
#whumptober 2023#marvel#whumptober#peter parker fic#peter parker#wade wilson#peter parker x wade wilson#spideypool#spiderman#deadpool#team red#marvel fluff#fluff#whump and fluff#whump#spiderman whump
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