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b1ackgh0st · 4 months

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Writing as many HCs for Trolls characters as humanly possible!

Starting off strong with the Snack Pack + Poppy & Branch!

♡Poppy♡

She was a later bloomer. Most (pop) trolls have a little bit of tit, but she was flat as Branch's voice at the beginning of the first movie.

Had a toxic best friend at one point. Nobody liked Poppy when she was young, but as soon as she became an adult, she was mote liked than anyone else.

Prefers black coffee over any other kind

Her favorite flavour is strawberry!

Even though she likes almost any flavour, any candy she has that's lemon or watermelon she gives to Branch because he is very addicted.

Speaking of which, she can't stomach spicy food at all and tends to projectile vomit.

Gets sick pretty easily, but won't admit it.

No one knows how she does it, but she can appear almost instantly. Whether it's in Branch's room at midnight or behind anyone in a crowded area, it's alarming.

Not physically violent.

However...

Poppy is deranged AF!

She will verbally and mentally threaten people... and lord it's probably scary.

Too much of a morning person

By that, I mean she wakes up at around 3 am everyday after falling asleep at around 7 pm and starts her daily routine.

Refuses to wear make-up

Has never had acne or anything similar

Most Pop Trolls, Poppy included, have extream hair growth. She has to shave her legs daily.

Has literally no skincare routine

Unfortunately, she has to make her own shampoo because anything she can find in shops doesn't work and just causes dead ends and very greasy hair.

Very fidgety ADHD-er

□Branch□

Branch has the most excessive skincare routine ever

Wears A LOT of makeup to hide scars and stuff

Breaks out really easily

Autistic! Not Yay!

Or maybe it is Yay

Anyways, he had problems with bright lights, loud sounds, being close to other people, some kinds fo texture, and some scents

Has around seventy homemade candles around the bunker, all scented slightly different.

Most of them smell like citrus

Sucks at making coffee at home, therefore his coffee orders are pretty specific.

Despite going back onto society, he's still a feral troll.

Which means that, while pop trolls are omnivores who need lots of plants and sweets in their diet, Branch's diet is almost exclusively meat, sweets, and breads.

Has bitten Poppy before. (It was an accident, I promise. No trolls were harmed.)

While he may not overreact on safty stuff or the Bergens anymore, he' started overreacting to everything else.

Oh, Guy tripped and scraped his knee? GET HIM TO THE DOCTOR HE'S DYING!

Mr. Dinkles is lost again? HE COULD BE ANYWHERE WE'LL NEVER MIND HIM!

Yeah.

Insomniac, unfortunately.

Biggie!!

Eats bugs. (Small stuff like ants)

Also kind of deranged.

Or he had some undiagnosed mental stuff

Prefers tea

Also has ADHD

I ddont really have much since he's pretty perfect when it comes to the movies and his character-

SMIDGE

Oldest in the gang, actually

She's thirty-eight, and witness Poppy hatching UP CLOSE

Poppy kind of sees her as a mother figure, mostly because Poppy never had a mother.

Smidge tried to have a kid once (yes, it was Milton's.), but it was a miscarriage

Her short stature and abnormal strength is actually a very rare genetic phenomenon

She used to have a really smooth, "feminine" voice,but after years of working out and screaming at the top of her lungs, her voice is scratchy now

Wants to do speech therapy to try and get her old voice back, but... well, Pop Village doesn't have stuff like that.

Has low self-esteem

Has been married to Milton for about a year (By the end of TBT)

Only drinks energy drinks, always Cherry flavour. (Or something similar)

Just a little crazy, but aren't we all?

The reason she's so close to Poppy is because right before the tunnel thing to get away from the Bergens, she worked with Peppy.

Won't continue with that.

Enjoys playfully bullying Suki because she's the only one who doesn't take it seriously.

Guy Diamond ◇

Oh man

Did NOT get enough attention as a kid

His parents were either too busy, and were both taken while running through the tunnels

Sky Toronto (From TBGO and Trollstopia) is his uncle, but neither of them know that

The only clothes he'd ever wear would be a scarf and leg warmers, maybe gloves.

Either he just dislikes it or he's genuinely afraid of it, he won't drink alcohol.

Secretly likes to eat things that aren't really edible

Also, scroll past this if you wanna because imma explain how it's not awkward that the glitter trolls are almost all naked.

So, since Glitter trolls are a subspecies, one which probably derived from a tribe long ago, their anatomy is a little different

They have protective slits that hide their genitals until needed

Essentially, the glitter trolls that have dicks.. their disks are hidden kn that slit, and will start to come out when said glitter troll is aroused.

For the one that don't, the slit will just start to open on it's own

Having a cock or not doesn't decide the gender of a Pop Troll, BTW!!

Cooper & Darnell

Darnell yassified him.

He ended up with silver tattoos on one arm, multiple silver bracelets, necklaces, and earrings, and silver dread cuffs

C & D spend a lot of time together

C had a hard time deciding, but ultimately chose to stay woth the Funk Tribe and his family rather than with the Pop Trolls

He stolll visits them <3

I'll make more later, dw.

#dreamworks trolls #trolls #autistic things #broppy #guy diamond #trolls branch #poppy trolls #trolls world tour #trolls band together #biggie #smidge #trolls smidge #adhd things

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fluffypandabun · 1 year

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Braiding Giggles

AN: Ahhhh my first fic!! Ofc it had to be ROTTMNT, Ive have rottmnt brainrot for so long, especially about my boy Casey. I hope you guys enjoy!

Words: 2893

Summary: After spending most of his life in the apocalypse with little access to baths, Casey's hair needs a lot of work. Luckily the hamato clan is more than eager to help their newest addition, along the way they discover something new about the future teen.

Casey let out a pained noise as the brush caught on a tangle in his hair, followed by a few more as he struggled to yank the brush out none to gently from his long tangled locks of jet black hair.

Growing up in the apocalypse did not leave a lot of room for things such proper hair care, or even really bathing in general. And the last few days he had spent in his own timeline had been some of the most hectic days of his life, not to mention that he was tasked with saving this timeline's world as soon as he had arrived smack dab in the middle of it. So showering hasn't really been something that had crossed his mind at the time.

But after the dust had settled, and the hamato clan had been given time to rest and properly treat their wounds, physically and maybe just a little emotionally, April had taken one good look at his greasy slicked back hair and had demanded he’d shower.

And who was he to deny Commander O'neil when she gave him a direct order.

So now he found himself standing in front of a slightly cracked mirror, wearing a shirt and shorts that were both way too big on his skinny, and probably malnourished body. His hair, that he was used to being slicked back with either grease, sweat or sometimes blood, was now poofed out and looking soft and fluffy, falling just above his shoulders in wavy layers.

And there was also now a hairbrush stuck in it.

He let out a groan from the back of his throat, giving the brush one last good tug, which had him wincing and feeling sympathy for his already sore scalp, he let his arms drop to his side in defeat.

He turned, leaving the lairs' makeshift washroom to return to the living room where the turtles and April sat, Splinter off somewhere in his room,napping. He stood in the doorway, not quite sure how to let himself be known when Raph suddenly turned to face his direction.

He smiled and started to say something when he suddenly noticed the brush firmly tangled in the boys locks and he stopped, his expression shifted from confused, to amused, before stopping on fond.

“Aw buddy.” He chuckled, “Having trouble with your hair?”

His acknowledgement of the teen gained the attention of everyone, save for maybe Donnie who was hunched over his phone doing who knows what, he received the same fondly amused looks from April and Mikey, though Leo let out a loud snort, causing April to elbow him in the side and send him a glare.

Casey felt his cheeks tint slightly pink and he shuffled on his feet, rubbing his hand up and down his arm. “I uh….” he stuttered, before clearing his throat.

“I…can one of you maybe…help me with my hair…please..?”

Raph smiled. “Of course we can buddy.” He said, at the same time Leo's face lit up and he immediately began to make grabby hands towards the human.

“Oh oh!! Let me do your hair!” The mutant said excitedly, eyes alight in a way they hadn't been in awhile since the attack on new york.

Casey blinked a few times in surprise. “I….”

Ralph Rolled his eyes. “Ignore him Cass, Leos always had this weird obsession with hair.”

“Yeah probably because he's bald.” Mikey added on giggling, which earned him a playful push from said turtle.

“Excuse you, it's not an obsession it's an appreciation, plus April never lets me mess with her hair so i neeever get to show off my amazing hair skills!” The red eared slider huffed, crossing his arms across his chest as if this was the biggest offense he’d ever experienced in his life. But quickly his expression morphed back into a bright eyed grin as he reached out towards case again.

“Come onnnn Cass my man, i’ll fix your hair up real nice, trust me!”

“Trusting you sounds like a horrible idea, Nardo.” Donnie said, finally choosing to join in on the conversation. Leo sent his twin a glare.

“Don't listen to him Casey, I'm like, one of the most trustworthy people ever.”

“I won't even waste my breath on giving all the reasons on why you are wrong on that one.”

Casey stood there in the doorway, watching the two turtles bicker back and forth, lips twitching. Growing up back….in his own timeline, he had the distant memory of his Sensei running his fingers through his hair, twisting it into little braids, or helping Casey pull it back into a ponytail to keep it out of his face during training.

Master Leonardo had always enjoyed doing Casey's hair, so he guessed it shouldnt surprised him that this Leo would want to do it as well.

Thinking about his sensei made his eyes burn, so he was quick to blink the wetness out of them. Clearing his throat as he spoke up.

“Um…” He muttered, stopping the two turtles bickering. “I wouldn't mind if you did my hair.”

Leo turned to him and blinked, before he did his signature grin. “Awesome!”

The turtle teen plopped himself down crossed legged on the couch, patting the spot in front of him eagerly. Casey smiled as he made his way over, sitting down in front of the turtle, albeit a bit awkwardly. He allowed himself to press his back against the couch and he only jumped a little when two three fingered hands came into his vision.

“Alright.” Leo said, cracking his knuckles.” First we need to deal with this rat's nest and then we can really doll you up huh?”

Casey gave a slight nod, tensing up when he felt Leo grab onto the brush still firmly stuck in his hair.

“Be gentle Leo.” Came Raphs warning tone from Casey's right where he couldn't see him from his position on the floor. From above him Leo scoffed.

“Relax big brother.” He hummed, though his tone had taken a more gentle tone. “I'll be careful.”

And to his credit he was, or as gentle as he could be when brushing hair that was as tangled as Caseys. After a lot of yanking, cursing, and threats to simply cut it out, the brush had finally been removed from Casey's hair. Leo brandished it like it was a powerful weapon as he attacked Casey's raven locks. It still hurt, but it went a lot better then it would have if Casey had done it alone.

Everytime the teen hissed in pain or let out a flinch, Leo would pause and apologize, before continuing even more carefully then before. After a bit his hair started to untangle, becoming softer and more fluffy the more Leo brushed. Pretty soon Casey was sure there weren't any tangles left in his hair, and that Leo was brushing it just for the sake of brushing it.

Not that Casey was complaining, it felt….nice….really nice. And after going so long without any sort of close physical touch like this, no offense to his family from his timeline, they did their best while raising him in the apocalypse, it's safe to say he pretty much melted.

He barely registered the others talking above him, or the sound of a movie being put on. He simply allowed himself to tilt his head back and relax, at some point he was pretty sure that Leo had switched out the hairbrush for the sake of running his own fingers through the boy's locks.

He could feel himself almost falling asleep when suddenly one of Leo's fingers brushed gently against the shell of his ear. The sudden tingle of electricity was so unsuspected and unfamiliar that Casey found himself jumping and flinching forward away from whatever had caused that feeling. Looking back he found all the turtles and april, even Donnie, looking at him in bemused concern.

Especially Leo, who had frozen with his hands mid air.

Raph spoke up first. “Casey? You alright?”

“I didn't hurt you did I?” Leo asked, and though his voice was calm there was a hint of anxiousness behind it. Quickly Casey shook his head.

“No! No no your fine, I'm fine, I just…” He bit his lip, hoping the others didn't notice the pink begging to form on his cheeks.

“It was….one of those like, feeling like your falling things, you know, like when you're about to fall asleep. Yeah..”

Everyone seemed to relax a little bit, Mikey adding in a “I hate those” as they all turned back to watch the movie still playing on screen, Leo gave him a look.

“Are you sure…?”

Casey gave him a smile. “Yeah Leo its all good.” He turned back around and pressed his head into the turtle's hands. “You…you can keep going.”

The teen looked at him and then smirked, though there was a fondness to it, he said nothing as he continued with his mission of giving Casey head scratches.

After a moment Casey found himself relaxing again, his eyes starting to droop as he felt himself begin to drift off….

Leo's fingers brushed against both of his ears this time.

This time, Casey let out a very loud and more importantly, very embarrassing squeak. Once again silence filled the room and all eyes were on him.

“Okay.” April spoke up after a moment of silence. “Something is going on, what is up with you future boy?”

“N-Nothing!” Casey spluttered, holding up his hands. “It's nothing really I promise-”

“Casey.”

He froze, feeling a chill up his spine, because he did not like the sound of Leo's voice. Carefully he turned around and oh he did not like the look of Leo's face either.

The shit eating grin on the turtle's face said it all, that and the mischievous glint in his eyes.

Casey swallowed, already able to feel his face getting warm “W..What..?”

The slider's grin grew even wider. “Caseyyyyyy!”

“Whahat?” Casey grinned nervously, already frantically looking around for an exit of some sort.

Confused, Raph glanced between the two of them. “I'm sorry, but am I missing something?”

“Yeah.” Mikey spoke up, now fully facing him. “Why is Leo giving you the look?”

Casey swallowed, showing off the gap in his teeth as he grinned nervously. “The uh..the look?”

Mikey nodded. “Yeah the look he gives someone usually before he…” the younger turtle trailed off as a look of realization passed over his face, immediately following it was an almost equally mischievous look making its way on the turtle's freckled face.

“Ohhhh I see.” He giggled, making Casey flush even more.

Even more confused Raph groaned. “Okay can someone please tell me what i'm missing?”

Leo grinned at him. “How bout I just show you instead~?”

Caseys eyes went wide. “Wait-!” he squeaked, trying to scramble forward and out of the turtle's reach. But the ninja was too fast for him, grabbing him by the shoulders and pulling him back against the couch. Whatever protests or pleas he might have had died on his lips and were instantly replaced by a stream of squeaky giggles as Leo gently hooked his fingers under the teens chin keeping him in place as he traces the outer shell of his ear.

“Casey here's just ticklish, see?” Leo hummed, speaking over the humans giggling. He seemed to have no problem keeping him in place even as he kicked and squirmed frantically trying to grasp at the turtle's wrist.

Raph blinked a few times before it clicked. “Ohhhhhh.” he grinned.

“Yeah that makes sense.”

Somewhere to his far right April cooed softly. “Awwww look at the future boy all giggly, he's so sweet.”

“Humans can have ticklish ears!?” Mikey gasped, eyes alight, he quickly made to reach for April. “Are yours ticklish too April?”

The human was quick to gently smack his hand away. “Nuh-uh, not happening.”

Sitting on the ground Casey was in stitches, frantically jerking his body back as forth to try and dislodge Leos fingers, seeing as that wasn't working in the slightest he settled on scrunching up his shoulders to his ears in a desperate attempt to shield himself from leos attack.

“Awww Cass look what you did, Now my fingers are stuck.” The turtle shrugged, a grin still plastered on his face. “Guess ill just have to keep tickling you here.”

Casey, much to his horror, squealed, which earned him fond looks from both Raph and April, even Donnie sent him a look that could be called fond, at least by his standards.

Mikey giggled alongside him. “Awww Cass! You're so giggly!”

Leo chuckled. “Yeah, how come you aren't like this all the time? Instead of being all sullen and sad lookin, you're worse than Donnie.”

“I'm choosing to ignore that comment.”

Casey squeezed his eyes shut and frantically shook his head, laughing harder when Leo moved to gently tracing along his jawline. Tracing a small scar that seemed to be a lot more sensitive than the rest of the surrounding area.

It had been….a very long time since Casey had laughed like this, since Casey had..felt like this. Felt safe enough to let himself go and relax, to show such vulnerability to a group of people. The last people he’d let see him like this….

Casey chose to pretend the tears welling up in his eyes were just from how hard he was laughing. He simply tilted his head back and grasped onto Leo's wrists, body shaking with laughter as he cracked an eye open to look up at Leo.

The slider was looking down at him with such fondness it nearly took Casey's breath away, he looked at him the same way he looked at Mikey whenever the younger turtle would manage to draw a straight line without his damaged hands shaking and messing him up.

Casey felt his already pink cheeks turning an even darker shade as red as he was quick to look away from the turtle's gaze, ignoring the own warmth he felt in his chest.

Raph, his savior, finally spoke up. Sounding just as fond as Leo had looked.

“Arlight Leo, don't overwhelm him, you know he probably isn't used to this sort of thing.”

Leo scoffed. “Overwhelm him? Pshh the kid loves it, don't you?” The turtle dug his fingers gently into the underside of Casey's chin causing him to snort.

“Leo.” Raph said, using his ‘big brother voice’, Leo sighed.dramtically.

“Alright alright, fine I’ll give the kid a break.” Finally, after a few more pokes, the turtle's fingers slowed to a stop as he released his hold on the teen. Though he kept both his hands resting gently on the boy's shoulder.

Casey gasped softly for air, leaning his head back against Leo's legs as he hiccuped. Rubbing his face with his hands, he groaned.

Amused, Mikey patted him on the head, “Aww, don't be embarrassed Cass, everyones a little ticklish. Plus you have a really cute laugh!”

Casey let out another much more exaggerated groan, Raph chuckled.

“I don't think you're helping him much here Mikey.” The larger turtle said, patting the box turtle on the head, before he turned to look at Casey.

“He's right though, no need to be embarrassed.”

“Yeah.” April snorted. “You might as well get used to it, especially now that you're a part of this family.”

“Unfortunately..” Donnie deadpanned under his breath, earning him a playful prod in the side from April.

“Awww come on D, you know you love it. “

“A hisssss!!”

Casey allowed himself to peek out from his fingers, face still pink, he allowed a slight smile to make its way onto his face.

“I suppose so…” He muttered, Leo sent him a grin, clasping his hands together.

“Right! So that adorable discovery aside-”

“Its not adorable-”

“Hush. Anyways, Now we can work on actually styling your hair for real, all that squirming you did messed up all my work, but since I'm so kind and caring I'm willing to start back from scratch. “

Casey saw the turtle reach from him out of the corner of the eye and he gave a little flinch, Leo froze for a second before he grinned.

“Don't worry Cass, I promise I won't tickle you again….for now..”

Casey narrowed his eyes at the slider, especially for that last part, before he sighed. He let himself relax, leaning against Leo's legs once again.

True to his word, Leo stuck to his promise. He ran his fingers through the teens fluffy hair and began the process of separating it to turn it into a braid. The motions brought a sort of bittersweet nostalgia to Casey's mind as he smiled softly, once again relaxing into the gentle touch.

He listened, half asleep, as the others spoke above him. Leo and Donnie bickering while Mikey hushed them because he was trying to watch the movie, with April threatening to put them all in the get along shirt, whatever that was.

Casey felt himself begin to slip off to sleep for real this time, a small smile on his lips. April's earlier words echoing in his head as he finally drifted off.

“Now that you're a part of this family.”

Yeah, he could get used to this.

#rottmnt tickle #rottmnt tickle fic #tickle fic #pandabuns fic #ticklish! Casey #Ler! Leo #this was sm fun 2 write u have no idea #wow im a bit rusty #i still hope u guys enjoy!!

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its-monster-mash · 2 years

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Didn’t Your Momma Ever Tell You not to Talk to Strangers?

Bo Sinclair x Reader - Part One

WARNINGS: Fem!Reader, Gendered terms of endearments/insults, violent thoughts—but they don’t get enacted in this chapter, Bo is…Bo. Sexist Pig.

Part Two Part Three

Bo still thinks back on that first day he saw you.

The first thing he heard when that busted up old van rolled into town was a god awful rattling that told him the wheel bearing was beyond fucked and you were all lucky the wheel hadn’t popped right off and went careening down the highway without you.

You didn’t get his funeral act—he happened to already be hard at work when the rust bucket rolled in, so of course, he was in a pretty shit mood about having to deal with new arrivals right that second until you popped out of the window like a Dukes of Hazzard reject—your sweaty hair matted to your face and your ratty old band tee clinging to your body for dear life in the summer heat.

That lightened his mood right away—you’d look real pretty in his basement, and he was already running through all the ways he’d enjoy making you cry when he realized something awfully damn disappointing.

The rest of your little crew was packed into that van like a goddamn clown car, and judging by the outline of the knife in your tight little cut off shorts, you ladies weren’t fucking around.

But you were fuckin’ nice, weren’t you? All polite and shit. ‘Course, you couldn’t have been too awfully bright, asking the guy in the greasy coveralls if he’s a mechanic—no shit bitch; you think he just rolls around in motor oil because it smells pretty? Get fucked.

His momma would have thought you were trash—the way you were strutting around like that with all that ink in your skin—but god help him, it got him hot. Just the thought of slapping his own name down on you sent a rush through him.

He knows better though. As easy as it would be to grab you and drag you away—the way you were smiling at him like you fucking trusted him and the bullshit charming persona he was feeding you—but even he was smart enough to know that if he tried anything, your little pack of women would fall upon him like wolves—that’d be a fuckin’ stupid way to go out.

So he replaced the wheel-bearing on your friend’s shitty van, you paid him, and his eye twitched at the thought of letting you slip from his grasp when you’d been just about close enough for him to taste your blood under his teeth.

You called him a ‘Lifesaver’ before giving him a peck on the cheek and climbing back in through the window.

You had no idea how right you were—the fact that he let you walk out of Ambrose may as well have been the same thing as saving your useless life.

What a fuckin’ joke.

He didn’t figure he’d see you again after that.

~*~

That is, until two weeks later when he heard the most goddamn annoying custom horn he’d ever heard in his life, and in rolls the slutwagon—you were already leaning out the window with a big stupid smile, waving at him like you two were buddies or something.

Fuck, he was annoyed to see you—it was a goddamned tease—he couldn’t get his hands on you, and yet here you were, darkening his doorstep with that big fuckin’ smile. You probably thought you were so adorable.

He did have to hand it to you about your taste in music though—assuming you weren’t just some vapid bitch wearing someone else’s shirts.

More interesting though, was the shiny loaf of tinfoil you presented to him.

Banana bread—you’d told him—baked it yourself.

Like he was supposed to be touched.

He figured you’d stopped by because you needed him to fix something else on that rolling death trap, but no; all you wanted to do was stop by while you went on your road trip and bring him something nice—since he had been so good to you before.

Fucking freak; who does that?

That damn banana bread was fucking good though—maybe there was hope to make a fuckin’ woman out of you yet.

~*~

Week after week, he had come to expect your little visits—and the sweets you always brought with you. It was like tribute—and goddamn if he didn’t deserve it for being so fucking patient with you.

It was fucking rude of you, honestly, training him like a fucking dog to get all excited when you would come in to town. It had been an awfully long time since he was actually excited to see a specific person—been a long fuckin’ time since there was anyone outside of Ambrose who actually wanted to see him—and part of him hated you for the way your smile spread to his lips when he saw you.

The more genuine his happiness, the more he wanted to fucking punish you.

Honestly, how dare you? How dare you go and make yourself important enough to him that he actually misses you between your little visits?

And then you have the nerve to leave too?

Fuck you, Cunt. The least you could do is go ahead and chain yourself up in his basement, for all the trouble you’ve caused him.

Maybe then he could forgive you.

Fuckin’ doubt it though.

~*~

He hates this day—the day you’re supposed to visit always puts him on edge, and he spends the hours until you and your little pack of wolves actually decide to roll in pacing around by his shop—as if he’s got nothing better to be doing—because that’s where you always come looking for him.

And why not?

You’ve got no idea anything’s weird about Ambrose—you only ever come ‘round to fuck with his heart anyway.

He oughta let Vincent immortalize you in wax—that way you could never fucking leave him again—but then who’d bake him pumpkin bread with the little chocolate chips, just the way he likes it?

Seriously, somehow it was like the chocolate stayed melty even after the bread was long cooled—the bakery in the closest town over doesn’t even sell pumpkin bread. It had to be some kind of fuckin’ witchcraft—that’s it, you bewitched him with your cooking—it’s the only explanation for the for the way his heart stirs when he hears that goddamn horn.

Quickest way to a man’s heart is through his stomach after all—honestly—you must have done this to him on purpose.

“Hey Bo!” You call out of the window as that sad excuse for a van stops out in front of his shop.

He could have fixed that door of course, but he loves watching you climb out of that little window, so he’s never offered.

“Hey Pretty Lady, got something good for me today?”

“Your favorite,” you beam proudly, presenting a wrapped up loaf that better be fucking pumpkin.

He’d be awful hurt if after all this time you thought his favorite was anything else—not sure how well he could hold himself back if you managed to screw that up.

You are cute though, standing there expectantly, waiting for the hug that’s become a part of your little ritual. He likes the way your titties crush against his chest when you wrap your arms around him, and he lifts you off the ground just a bit for good measure—even he knows that girls love that shit, and to be honest, he’s not quite sure how he’d react if you just up and decided to never come visit him again.

So he’ll keep playing nice, even when it makes the bile rise up to the back of his throat every time your vapid little friends make immature little noises mocking you—and by extension him—for how damn cute you look.

He doesn’t hear the cacophony of hyenas this time though—no—this time it’s a man’s voice.

“So that’s my competition?”

Bo’s jaw goes tense immediately, and he’s not sure if he’s more angry with you for being a fucking slut, or the douchebag leaning out the window and eye-fucking you.

“Get fucked, Corey,” you hiss, throwing the bird over your shoulder without so much as looking at him.

Good Girl, he thinks. Don’t you fucking dare look at that yuppie little fucker.

But that yuppie little fucker is in the shitbucket van—the van you came in on. There’s a metallic taste in Bo’s mouth, and it’s only now that he realizes he’d been biting the inside of his cheek. Truth is, all he is to you is a fucking stop on your road trip—whoever the fuck Corey is, he’s part of your world.

The thought of that shrimpy little cuck bitch getting to fuck you makes him see fucking red.

You have no idea how much danger you’re in right now. There’s nothing Bo wants more that to smack the shit out of your pretty little face for making a fool out of him.

That would teach you—fuck you up so bad no one but him ever wanted to fuck you again.

But he deserves better—he likes your pretty face—so you’d better fucking make it up to him.

What stings the most is that he can’t do shit about any of it right now—and he knows damn well that maybe he never will.

He is not used to feeling powerless, and he is not a fan.

“Oh come on,” The dickprint whines. “You’ll fuck around with this hick but not me?”

So you weren’t fucking him.

That eases Bo’s temper a little bit—even in spite of the fucking rude bullshit the little shit is spewing—and his world stops falling down around him.

“Hey Cumstain, how about you shut your fucking mouth when you’re in my damn town,” Bo fires off, pulling you off to the side of him as he stalks toward the van—your stupid little friends actually look intimidated for once, and it fills him with a surge of pride.

“Oh don’t worry, I’m not staying—unlike you I actually have places to go in life.”

“Corey,” you hiss, and the way your lip curls with rage is getting Bo hot under the collar—you look fucking good when you’re angry.

“Oh calm down,” he waves you off. “You’re not this guy’s type anyway—he looks like he gets all his action at the family reunion.”

Bo’s about two seconds shy of dragging this fucker out of the van and making him settle their differences like men—which is to say, he’d utterly pummel the much smaller guy—because God Damn would it feel good to bash that guy’s skull in until his brain matter is clinging to his fists.

But you get in the way.

You’re marching right back to that van with a fire in your eyes that makes Bo wonder if you might actually have more in common with him than he’d originally thought.

You take a fistful off the fucker’s necklaces, and drag him close to you. “You’re gonna fucking apologize to Bo, and you’re gonna do it right fucking now,” you snarl.

“No way, you fucking crazy bitch!” He squirms, but you don’t let him go until one of your usual group shouts your name a couple of times.

Bo kind of wants to rip her throat out for that—he was really looking forward to seeing what you would have done to that guy if he kept up his disrespectful mouth.

“Okay, Tasha, I’m not going one more mile with this piece of shit—so we’re gonna have to figure something else out,” you save Bo the trouble of snapping at her.

“We’re six hours away from home—what are you planning to do?” She huffs. “Walk?”

“Don’t know, don’t care.” You put your hands up in exasperation, and Bo can’t help but watch you with baited breath—praying to God that this goes where he hopes it’s going.

Maybe, fucking finally, all his patience is about to pay off.

You turn to face him, and he slaps on a super forced looking smile to cover up the manic glee that’s threatening to burst through. “Is there a hotel in Ambrose?”

“Nah,” Bo shakes his head in a mockery of solemnity, before seeming to perk up with an idea that of course hadn’t crossed his mind before. “You can crash with me though if you want—I got plenty’a room for ya.”

He looks like such a fucking gentleman, and you just fucking nod, taking his hand like a fucking dumb slut who has no idea how much danger she’s getting herself into. “Thanks, Bo, I think I’ll have to take you up on that, if it’s not to much trouble.”

“If it were, I wouldn’t have offered.” That should have been fucking obvious—that’s okay though, he’ll have so much time to force some sense into you now—all the time in the fucking world.

“Are you crazy?” Tasha stares at you in utter disbelief, but you don’t budge—at this point, Bo’s not sure if he’d let you, not when he’s so close to finally bringing you home where you belong. “Come on, just get in the van, okay?”

“No, I’m staying—so don’t bother worrying about me.” You squeeze Bo’s hand a little tighter, and it takes all his willpower not to laugh.

He’s well aware that you’re at least partly using him to antagonize your friends, but he’s more than happy to indulge you right now—you’ll be indulging him soon enough.

“Fine, be that way,” she huffs, kicking the van into drive. “I’ll pick you up next week.”

“Fine,” you sneer, and with that, you’ve sealed your fate.

Bo had spent so much time wracking his brain trying to figure out how to separate you from your little friends, but you went and did all the hard work for him.

Stupid little slut.

He watches that rolling scrap pile leave, and the animal in his chest pants and whines and begs him to maul you like the savage dog you’ve made him—but not yet.

He’s the master of this kennel, and he’s feeling like having a little foreplay this time around.

Lucky you.

#Bo Sinclair #bo sinclair simping #bo sinclair x you #bo sinclair x female reader #Bo Sinclair x reader #good god I love this disaster man #dymetynttts #probably going to be at least a short series for when I need to decompress from work

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crybaby-bkg · 8 months

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sᴄᴏʀɴᴇᴅ | ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ғɪᴠᴇ

Bakugou x f!reader Warnings/Tags: male OC tries to assault reader, short scuffle between reader and OC, attempted sexual assault (but nothing actually happens), poor living conditions, slowly creeping into the hesitant friends arc!!, panic attacks, very brief suicidal ideations Word Count: 4.6k Minors/blank/ageless blogs DNI!

Main Masterlist AO3

A couple days have gone by since your meeting with the heroes and the Hero Commission’s worker. You still haven’t come to a clear decision yet, but granted, this is a big decision and its not just one that you can make over night.

As you head home from your job, you try to weigh the pros and cons of rebranding as a hero. For one, you’d probably make more money and be able to afford your apartment. You wouldn’t have to sneak around so much, and you’d probably get a lot more respect and credit when walking amongst people, and not just in online spaces.

But…who’s to say the rest of society will accept you? In hero society, being a vigilante is illegal. You know that if you accept the conditions of rebranding, then your crimes will be forgiven, but for the rest of your career, you’ll be under strict watch. What’s the point of saving people if you have to be monitored the whole time?

A lot of those who have become victims themselves, or had been saved by you, respected what you did and how you went about it. But so, so many, including heroes and the government and police alike, hated you. Not because of what you stood for, that most didn’t know or didn’t care to know, but because you were targeting men. Its not like those men were innocent, but due diligence and the whole concept of “judge, jury, and executioner” really turned people off from you.

If you did accept, how would other heroes see you? Would they find new respect for you, after hearing your story? Or would they only condemn you to being a vigilante, someone who should’ve never been forgiven?

How would Miruko see you? Would she respect you, and what you’ve become? Would she still carry the same disdain she shows on the news?

What would become of you, if you let the Red Medusa lay forever forgotten in the streets, and become someone new? Should you bring up your vigilante days, or do you let the news dig it all up and find out when you start flourishing as a hero? Do you keep the gap between victim and hero empty, or would you have to spill it all to everyone?

The thoughts overwhelm you, and you find yourself in front of your door before you know it. You drop your keys twice, and by the time you finally unlock your door, someone clearing their throat interrupts you. Your head whips around to find your landlord standing a few feet beside you with his hands tucked into his jeans.

He’s a younger guy, which was a surprise when you first met him. You thought all landlords looked like sewer rats with greasy hair and a creepy aura. This landlord, Mr. Riku only exudes one of those things—creepiness.

“I’ve been meaning to talk to you about your rent, sweetheart.” Mr. Riku nods his head to you, and you bristle at the name.

“Don’t call me sweetheart.” You snap at him, keeping your hand locked on your doorknob, the other holding a pocket knife tight in the front of your hoodie. Mr. Riku rolls his eyes at you, holding his hands up in mock surrender as he laughs.

“Ah, right. Trauma, and shit.” He says flippantly, making a face that you think is supposed to disarm you and make you laugh with him. You don’t. You stare at him for a minute, chewing the inside of your cheek as you take all of him in.

“What do you want?” You bark when he stands there staring at you for too long. Every time you talk to him, you feel like you’re going to emerge out of the conversation covered in slime weighing you down.

“You’re three months behind on rent. I should evict you.” He singsongs, twisting his mouth as he leans against the wall beside your door.

“So why don’t you?” You sneer at him, all bite and sharp teeth that he ignores to instead clean invisible dirt from under his nails.

“It would be a shame to lose such a pretty face in my building, you know? I’d miss it.” Mr. Riku looks up at you from under white haired bangs, grinning something evil that makes your stomach churn and your chest tighten. Before you can say anything, he’s slinking his way inside of your apartment through your open door, coming in before you can stop him.

“The fuck are you doing?” You shout at him, hand tightening on the pocket knife as you flip it open inside your pocket. You really don’t wanna slice up your landlord and get into actual non-vigilante trouble for this, but you’re starting to fall into fight or flight mode. Right now, he’s one of the men who’s hurt you, and you refuse to be a victim again.

“I own the building, sweetheart.” Mr. Riku says snootily, walking into your living room, violating it with his yuck. “I’m entitled to come into each and every unit when I damn so please.” He looks around the place, holding up a shirt you left on the couch and sniffing it blatantly in your face.

You cringe at that, heart rate picking up as you take a step to him, frozen in your spot when he suddenly appears in front of you again. He reaches a hand out to your own that’s still in your pocket, and you finally find it in you to move, snatching away as you stumble into the still ajar door.

“What do you think you’re doing?” You growl at him, though your voice shakes much more than you’d like. Usually, when facing off with creepy men like this, they don’t know who you are, can’t hang your living situation over your head, don’t know your connections to a high ranking hero who paid for you to live here..

“I have an offer for you, that I can’t let the other neighbors hear.” Mr. Riku whispers, inching closer to you until his nose damn near brushes yours.

You jerk back, one hand still gripping the knife, the other curling up into a fist at your side. If he attacks, you can either cut him or punch him, but that might not be enough. You might have to get your gun strapped to your hip, even though you’re sure that it’ll be too loud and alert the neighbors. You’re not sure if that’s a good thing or bad thing.

“Which is?” You reply back, calculating his next move as much as you can, trying to keep your head leveled.

“I’ll extend your stay here. But you have to treat me right in return.” Mr. Riku mutters, hands—creepy, disgusting, too bony, too long, too veiny hands—reaching out to cup your chest. Before he can, you swing your fist, nailing him directly in the jaw, sending him crashing into your bookshelf next to your front door. A few books fall on him, and you stand above him, heart racing at the thought of what he just tried to do to you.

“Fuck you, you fucking pig.” You spit at him, voice cracking as he moans in pain. You pick up your bag, kicking him between the legs once as hard as you can before you finally dart out into the hallway.

From there, you run and run and run until your legs take you to a safe place, heart in your throat all the while. You don’t think you can breathe; you don’t think you took a single breath the entire way there until you found your back against a familiar door, gasping in the musky air of the warehouse.

Nobody seems to be here, as all the lights are off and its quieter than it usually is. You call out Vanity’s name, expecting for at least her to be there, but nobody answers you. You feel rooted to your place at the door, eyes welling with tears as your shaking hands hold tightly onto your bag. You can’t move—have your limbs always been weighed down so heavily by lead? Has your heartbeat always been so loud in your ears?

After what feels like hours, do you slowly start sinking down onto the hard, cold floor beneath you. Your fingers are warm and clammy when you finally let go of the bag, to instead wrap your arms around your figure. You take a breath, and then another, before the sobs start to wrack your body, heavy and loud and ugly, shaking and screeching, angry and full of—of, rage, fear, terrifying, body consuming fear.

Your eyes burn with every blink, your chest getting too tight, you don’t think you can muster anymore breath inside of your lungs. You can’t move, you can’t move, you can’t move.

A shadow emerges from the steps in the back corner, and you think that this might be the end for you. Maybe it should be—you won’t have to fight anymore, you won’t have to suffer. You won’t be such a pain in the ass for Dynamight anymore.

But instead, you’re greeted with an emerald green eyepatch and a golden, glowing eye. Vanity.

She says something to you, but your ears feel like they’re filled with cotton. She crouches in front of you, waving a hand in front of your face, but your eyes have been unseeing for a while now. So she holds you, close to her chest, gathers you up in her arms like a mother would, and she holds you.

You don’t think you’ve ever cried harder.

You two stay like that for what feels like days, before your tears have slowed to trickles down your cheeks, and your sobs have dissipated into quiet little hiccups. You don’t know when you started holding her back, but your hands grip her shirt, and you belatedly realize that she’s wearing her usual pajamas.

“Sorry for waking you,” you croak out, throat dry and scratchy. Vanity leans back to fix you with a frown, and you notice that her own eye holds tears.

“Don’t apologize. I heard my girl crying, and what kind of best friend would I be to not comfort her?” She reassures you, wiping away the few stray tears that still fall down your face. You smile wobbly at her, before planting your head in her chest again. She’s warm, and holds you close to her with her arms wrapped tight around your shoulders, stroking your hair. She lets you stay like that for a few more minutes, before she speaks,

“Can I ask what happened?” Her voice is tiny in the big, spacious room. “It’s okay if you don’t want to share.” You sit with her question hanging in the air, trying to gather the words in your mouth to spit out.

“Creepy, shitty landlord.” Is all you can muster up. It’s enough though, as she only hums in acknowledgement, muttering,

“It’s always creepy, shitty landlords, ain’t it?” You can hear her smile when you start to laugh against her skin, finally pulling back to look at her. Her cheeks are tear-stained, and you wonder if she can cry from an empty socket.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, yeah?” She asks, helping you to your feet.

The rest of the afternoon goes by in a blur, with Vanity helping you to the shower, lending you some clothes since you didn’t have anything clean in your bag, and fixing you up something quick and easy to eat. You two are quiet in the empty warehouse, and you fall asleep next to her on the cot in her room. It’s uncomfortable sharing such a small space, but at least you know you’re safe.

…

Things went by uneventfully when you “broke” into your apartment to get some extra clothes and other necessities with Vanity. After that though, you’ve stayed in the warehouse full time. It’s not the most ideal living situation though, long term, since there’s no Wi-Fi and it interferes with your connection to the outside world and possible villain activity going on. Also, there’s no hot water, nor is there a fully functioning kitchen besides a microwave.

This hideaway was only supposed to be for temporary usage—running away from the cops, needing to get stitched up, some extra ammo, a safe place to sleep for a few nights.

Not for two weeks. Once your higher ups started asking questions about your performance after a few patients expressed their worry about your near constant zombie-like state, you realized that you had to find another solution. (You think its the consistent cold showers that really did you in. Miruko spoiled you with such a nice place.)

You finally decide to swallow your pride, grumbling all the while as you stand behind the warehouse, holding your phone up high to the sky.

[ You , sent at 8:49pm ]

hey asshole, its trm. got a minute to chat?

[ Dynamight , sent at 8:52pm ]

yeah, only took you three years to text me

what?

[ You , sent at 8:55pm ]

you're even ruder over text

I need a favor, but don’t expect anything in return

[ Dynamight , sent at 8:57pm ]

Never.

[ You , sent at 8:58pm ]

got some housing issues going on rn. do you have any recs for low rent apartments in the area?

[ Dynamight , sent at 9:00pm ]

Ur shitting bricks if you think you can get something low in this neighborhood

[ You , sent at 9:05pm ]

thanks for the fucking help then

[ Dynamight , sent at 9:06pm ]

got a spare room at my place tho?

[ You , sent at 9:06pm ]

And what the fuck does that mean?

“What the fuck does that mean, Dynamight?” You immediately call him before the text can even send through, heart in your throat, your breathing heavy. Dynamight answers on the second ring, and grunts at your loud tone this late at night.

“What else would it mean?” He asks, voice disinterested as he yawns on the other end of the line. “I gotta spare room at my place, if you wanna crash.” He offers up like its the most casual thing a person could ever do. You’re silent on the other line as you let his words sink in, eyebrows furrowing as your gaze unfocuses on the thicket of trees in front of you.

Why would he offer up his place to you? Is he looking for something in return? Would he take advantage of you? What if the fucker had some kind of freaky room where he could tie you up and do whatever freaky shit repressed heroes do? You bite at your lip, mind reeling, as you form your mouth to reject his offer.

“Look, not to be an intrusive dumbass but—” Dynamight speaks up after a long stretch of silence.

“You are.” You cut him off, listening to him grunt on the other end of the line.

“Shuddup.” You can practically hear the frown in his voice before he continues. “But I see Miruko hooked you up at a shelter near the apartment you were staying at, and its pretty close to where I’m at. If you don’t wanna take an hour commute to get there because you gotta stay in some shitty apartment, then you could come crash with me.”

He’s too fucking nonchalant for you, to be offering up something so hugely important. You just don’t get it, you think, as you exhale, one hand gripping your phone tightly and the other gripping the roots of your hair.

“And why would you do that?” You ask him in the tiniest whisper you can muster, brain struggling to figure out why someone like him would offer his space to someone like you.

“The fuck? I just explained why.” Dynamight grunts confusedly on the other end, and you can damn near see his thick brows scrunching in confusion.

“No, I mean why you?” You ask desperately, hands starting to tremor as you speak through your teeth. “Why are you offering up your place for me to live? We don’t even know each other, much less like each other.” Your voice, quiet, shaking under the weight of the words. Dynamight is silent for a few seconds before he retorts,

“We’d have to know each other to dislike each other.”

“Shut up, you know what I mean.” You snap at him, back straightening as if he could see you. He goes silent for a few beats, formulating the right words in his head before he talks quietly into the mic.

“Call this a gesture of good faith.” He states, voice firm and unwavering. “I’ve intruded on your life a fuckton these past weeks, trying to rope you into hero life, ‘nd all that, so I wanna offer up something that means a lot to me. Even playing field, and shit.”

You fall silent, mulling over his words, everything that could go wrong if you were to put your trust into a hero, a man. He could hurt you. He could get away with it, easily. He could paint you out to be the crazy one, the problem.

But…he could help you. You would never need a man’s help but—Dynamight, in all of your interactions, never seemed like the type of scummy guys you frequently punished. He felt genuine, in a sense, firm but not too pushy. And maybe—maybe you could trust him. Just a little bit.

He hasn’t turned you into the police or to Hero Commission (yet?). You guess the guy couldn’t be all bad.

“I’m not taking any fuckin’ handouts.” You snap at him after a minute of silence. You can hear him chuckle on the other end before fabric starts ruffling in the background.

“Not a handout, dumbass. Just letting you borrow some shit for the time being.” He shrugs, and you swear you hear him yawn once. You frown, kicking up some branches that lay fallen at your feet.

“I’ll pay rent.” You mutter to him.

“No shit you’re paying rent.” Dynamight snorts, barely giving you a second to even offer. Shit head.

“Okay. Text me your address.” You go to pull your phone away to hang up, interrupted by his voice calling out on the other end.

“You’re coming now? I was about to go to bed.” He grumbles. Your eyebrows furrow in confusion, pulling the phone away from your ear to check the time.

“The fuck? It’s not even 9:30 yet, you old fart.” You poke at him, listening to his annoyed mumbling on the other side.

“Shut the fuck up.” Dynamight says with no real malice. “Call me when you’re outside.” He hangs up before you can say another word, and sends his address through to you only seconds later.

You look up at the sky before going back inside, gaze focused on the full moon and the cloudless skies, and wonder how the hell you’re gonna tell Vanity that you're moving in with a male pro hero. You decide that the best way to tell her, is by not telling her face to face at all.

Before you leave, you write a note left on your cot for her to find. You know she’s not going to be happy about this, but you have to put yourself first every once in a while.

…

“Well you look like shit.” Is the first thing you tell Dynamight when he opens the door to his apartment. He’s frowning at you, with half of his ash blond mane flattened on one side, his tank top twisted at the neck a little, his sweatpants low on his hips, and his feet bare. He looks like you’ve just woken him up.

“Fuck off,” he mutters, yawning before he turns on his heel to walk back inside. You follow, albeit hesitantly, afraid that something or someone might be wanting for you around the corner, ready to attack. But you take off your shoes, and pad into the living room, and it looks like no boogeymen are plotting on snatching you before you can even scream.

Dynamight stands behind the couch with his hands on his hips, a sleepy little frown on his face as he looks at you. He gestures to the open layout of his place, voice a deep grumble in his throat.

“Living room. Tv remote there,” he points to the coffee table before hooking his thumb behind him. “Kitchen—don’t eat my fuckin’ protein bars.” He points at you next and you only sneer at him. He tries to match your look but he’s too sleepy to keep up, so he only turns on his heel again before guiding you down a long hallway.

“Did you fall asleep already? We just hung up like, thirty minutes ago.” You ask him, frowning when it takes more effort than you’d like to keep up with his long legs.

“Shut it. I thought I was gonna stay up, but ‘m fuckin’ exhausted.” Dynamight grunts at you, sidestepping at a door across from what looks like the bathroom. You peer inside, hiking your heavy book bag up higher on your shoulder. Dynamight goes to take it without warning, and you instinctively grab it back, head whipping up to stare at him in confusion. He scrunches his face up before shaking his head at you.

“Sorry. Looks heavy, and I was gonna put it down for you.” His voice is small, and he folds his arms across his chest. You blink up at him for a few seconds, taking a few breaths to calm your suddenly racing heart before you drop the bag into his barely ready hands. He grunts at the weight of it, tired face surprised at how much you’ve stuffed inside.

“This my room?” You ask him, ignoring his question of how many bodies you’ve packed in there, to walk inside the new space.

It’s big. Entirely so, almost as big as your whole apartment from before. There’s a deep marooned carpet covering the floor, the walls a muted gray, with cream colored black out curtains covering the windows. The bed looks too big for just you to sleep in, decorated with more gray and cream sheets. Four pillows sit against a wooden headboard, and a small circular decorative one sits in the middle. There’s a purple throw blanket at the end of the bed that doesn’t match anything, but you see that its knitted, and you wonder why someone like Dynamight owns something so soft.

There’s a TV in front of the bed, and a small couch at the end of it. A closet on one side of the room, open and empty, the other wall decorated with a wooden dresser pressed against it. The room is beautiful and so…un-Dynamight.

“Why’s the bed so big?” Is the only thing you can muster up, shocked at how nice the room really is. Dynamight grunts at that, and you think it might’ve actually been a chuckle. He enters the room, setting your bag on the cream couch and letting you enter, before he stands back at the doorway again.

“‘Cause I’m a big guy, with some big friends who like to invite themselves over and get too fuckin’ drunk to go home.” Dynamight leans against the doorsill with his arms crossed over his chest, yawning at the end of his sentence. His eyes are so low, and droopy, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d think his quirk was actually being half lion. If you tilt your head enough, you’re sure you’d see some fluffy ears hidden in the mane of his hair.

You look away, realizing you’ve been staring as you run your hand over the soft blanket. You look back to him, almost as if in question, but he only blinks at you. You’re quiet for a while, taking everything in.

“Bathrooms across the hall, too. It’s all yours, since I have my own in my room.” Dynamight tells you, head jerking back to across the hall. Your eyes flicker behind him before landing on him again, feeling something warm starting to light up your chest.

“Thank you, Dynamight.” You whisper to him, voice tiny, as you awkwardly fold your arms over your chest. You hate feeling so meek, so in debt, so needy. But he doesn’t seem to take advantage of it, rolling his eyes as he pushes off the wall.

“We’re roommates now. Call me Bakugou.” He tells you, voice firm. You want to be an asshole and come up with some smart remark, but you can’t seem to find any. So you nod at him, once, and give him your last name, too. He smiles a tiny little smile at that before a yawn breaks his face again. He backs up from your door with a small wave, nodding to you.

“We can discuss rent and shit in the morning. Get some sleep.” He tells you, going to turn his back before you speak up as you start unzipping your bag to pull out some pajamas.

“I could say the same to you.” You call out to him, watching his eyebrow quirk in surprise.

“So say it.” He nods his chin to you, slowly walking backwards to his own room. You bristle at that though, shoulders hiking up to your ears as you flip him the bird, something you’re really starting to like doing to him.

“Fuck off.” You snap at him, no real malice in your tone. Dynamight—Bakugou, laughs at that, before turning on his heel to enter his room. He closes it without another look and you feel yourself release the breath you hadn’t realized you were holding in.

So what now? You think to yourself, your eyes falling to the pajamas you’re tightly holding before glancing up to the bathroom.

Now—a hot shower.

The bathroom is just as big as your room, with the same maroon-grey-cream color scheme going on. He’s even got some decorative towels in here, and it makes you wonder if someone did all of this for him, or if he did it himself. Either way, it doesn’t matter much when the hot water is all you really came for.

You go on about your nightly routine without further preamble, stiffening every time you hear a bump in the loft. You keep your gun close to you, even seating it on the toilet as you shower and brush your teeth. But nothing happens, and you dart quickly into your room, locking it behind you the moment you’re safe.

You check the closet, behind the door, and under your bed, and find nothing thankfully. You let yourself breathe for the first time in a long time, as you sit on the side of the bed in your pajamas. You won’t stay here long, you muse over with yourself. Just use his Wi-Fi and shower and oven until you can find a reasonable place to live, even if you have to start taking extra shifts at your job, even if it means having to do less vigilante work.

This is only temporary, you tell yourself as you lay back in bed, pulling up the purple blanket until it reaches your chin. You don’t want to get under the bed covers—it’ll signify that you’ll overstay your welcome. You can’t stay long. You can’t.

You don’t sleep much the first night, watching the door all night long, anticipating someone to try the doorknob. It’s left alone the entire time, and only when the sunlight rises, do you finally rest your eyes and let sleep take you.

chapter six

please do not repost or rec on tik tok!

tag list: @endlessfreaky @iamaconfusedpan

#—new treat in the streets! 🍫#crybaby.bkg.scorned

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octuscle · 1 year

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Mick - Good Boy To Chav

"ANTISOCIAL I DON'T LIKE YOU". Great shirt, Michael thought. With his lanky torso, he'd probably look a little silly in it. But to shock his stuffy middle-class parents, it would be just the thing. They hadn't thought it was a good idea for him to travel around England alone for six weeks during the summer vacations. They probably just thought he was too young and inexperienced at just 18 years old. But Michael had had a great time, with the last of his money he had been able to afford three more days in London in a shabby hotel, and now he had found a souvenir.

Sunday, departure day. Michael didn't really appreciate the breakfast at the hotel, but he was hungry and probably he would have to eat more for a longer time after the greasy English Breakfast. So he showered, styled his hair, put on jeans us sneakers and took the tank top.