#‘least he hasn’t tried to kill anyone of somethin’

[the-alphonze]

I’m startin’ to regret lettin’ that doppleganger on the ship

[pagannatural]

2.04 Children Shouldn’t Play with Dead Things

-“Yeah right—stuck with those people making awkward small talk until you show up? No thanks”

Clingy Dean is my favorite. He’s going through a hard time and he only wants to be around his Emotional Support Sammy

-At the hotel, Sam does that thing he does where he tells Dean he can see through him and he knows that he’s feeling some type of way about their dad’s death. This is a common romance trope. He knows Dean so so well.

-Every single episode now Sam has pushed Dean to talk to him. I wonder if he suspects that there is more to it than grief for Dean.

-It’s so interesting how their different ways of caring for each other come out—in s1 Dean was always worried about Sam because he’d just lost Jessica. He was patient with Sam and didn’t push him, but it was clear he was noting how much he ate and slept, and he did things like letting Sam sleep while he researched or offering food or letting him drive or putting on music he likes to doze to. Sam needs that respectful caregiving. Sam, however, is relentless when he sees that Dean is suffering and won’t let Dean ignore it. Dean needs that so that he can’t lie or turn away.

-Dean finally looks at Sam head-on after evading him the whole conversation, and Sam kind of draws back. Not fearfully, more like when the person you’re walking with suddenly stops so you do too.

-Sam says “you wanna take another swing? Go ahead, if it’ll make you feel better.” He sounds a little bratty, almost condescending. Like, You wanna do it again since you loved it so much? Since you felt so good after? (Dean didn’t.)

Underneath that, though…there’s softness, like Sam really would let Dean hit him again. He needs Dean to give him something. That punch in the face just didn’t last and he’s desperate.

Dean leaves and I think he’s feeling pretty exposed right now. He’s a liar and his lies don’t work on Sam.

-Sam is a kicked puppy when Dean leaves him. He looks much more devastated here than he did after Dean punched him and walked away. At least when he punched him he didn’t ask to be alone after.

Sam is so worried about Dean. His expression is pleading.

-When Dean comes back, Sam is watching something called “casa erotica 4.” He’s watching it with what looks like scholarly interest, or like he’s trying to figure out the plot from the first three movies he missed. Did he think maybe erotica would make him feel less sad about Dean? Evidently it’s pay per view so Sam had to have actually sought this out. He hasn’t done more than kiss anyone since Jessica died, so maybe this is meant to remind the viewer that he’s horny. So to recount, this episode he’s horny and he’s pleading desperately with Dean for something. I’m just contextualizing.

-Sam says “where the hell were you?” which is something an angry girlfriend would say.

-Dean is very indignant that Sam thought he was wrong about the case. Dean was right, and tells Sam he does actually know how to do his job. Sam used to openly look up to him so of course this is important to him, that Sam still thinks he’s capable.

-Their fights are just SO good. Sam is yelling at Dean that he’s scary and erratic and if this hadn’t been a case “you would’ve just found something else to kill” which gets Dean’s attention. Last episode he basically told Sam that he needs him to keep him from his violent impulses, from just being a killer. Dean walks away again until Sam says “Please—Dean—it’s killing you. Please.” I wonder if Sam says “please” to Dean like this only when he really, really needs him to listen because he knows that it works. Dean finally stops and looks at him, almost reproachfully. His kryptonite.

The fact that Dean feeling unhappy is such an issue for Sam that he’s fighting and begging and asking to be punched makes me want to hurl myself into the sun. He REALLY needs Dean to be okay. If Dean ever tried to pull away from him when they were kids, or ever seemed like he was refusing to talk about something bothering him, Sam must have lost his damn mind. And that’s exactly how Dean would’ve coped with feelings for Sam.

-Sam says they’ve already lost their parents. He says “I’ve lost Jessica. And now I’m gonna lose you too?”

If someone said to you “I’ve already lost my girlfriend. And now I’m going to lose you too?” It would probably feel like you were in a similar role to their girlfriend.

It’s also wild that Sam is comparing their parents’ and his girlfriend’s horrific and violent deaths with Dean just simply not talking about his pain. Like, Jessica burned to a crisp on my ceiling and now this? Emotional distance when I’m sad?

-The way Sam nods when Dean says “I’m being an ass and I’m sorry” is very baby brother. It’s similar to the way he nods when Dean asks him if he’s hungry when he comes back from the dead, just more cross.

-Dean tells him “I hear you” but right now they have a zombie to catch, and he starts walking, leaving Sam crestfallen.

-Dean thinks that Angela’s description of Neal being a shoulder to cry on and understanding what she’s going through sounds like Neal is in “unrequited ducky love” with her and your honor that’s exactly how Sam is treating Dean in this very episode, if only Dean would accept his shoulder.

-Dean says the following while making uninterrupted eye contact with Sam:

Okay!

-Sam tells Dean his plan was “pretty sharp” so now Dean can stop worrying that Sam doesn’t think he’s good at hunting

-Episode theme is “what’s dead should stay dead.”

Dean eventually pulls over and gets out of the car to tell Sam they both know John traded his life for Dean’s. Dean thinks he should be dead and that Sam thinks so too.

This conversation is heartbreaking because Dean asks what Sam could possibly say to make it alright, and when Sam struggles with something but doesn’t speak, Dean seems to take this as him agreeing.

Sam clearly doesn’t agree that Dean should be dead or blaming himself. Sam looks frustrated and worried and upset that Dean could even think that. For one thing Sam just sees things differently and probably hasn’t bothered questioning John’s death very much, and for another Sam chose Dean over John so many times that we can safely assume he’s at peace with this exchange. But he couldn’t possibly say anything right now to make Dean understand, so he just listens.

-Dean’s guilt over John dying for him weighs heavily, and keeping things from Sam is slowly ripping him apart. It will be important in later episodes that Dean struggles so much to keep anything from Sam.

-The way Sam looks at Dean here. He loves him so much. He looks resolute, and I wonder if he’s thinking that he’s going to show Dean he wants him and doesn’t blame him.

[yurinaa-world]

Dan Heng, Welt, Boothill, &Jing yuan with a S/O that’s like Homura Akemi (From Puella Magi) but like they have a boss fight where S/O is similar to Homulily (aka Homura’s witch form). Maybe after they’re defeated or when fighting them!

(●’◡’●)ﾉ

𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓇𝒶𝒸𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓈: Dan Heng, Welt, Boothill, & Jing yuan x Gender-neutral Reader

𝒮𝓎𝓃𝑜𝓅𝓈𝒾𝓈: with a reader thats their s/o yet get into boss fight with + after they've been defeated

𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈: fluff, spelling mistakes, I'm sorry this isn't what you had in mind and I realized that after writing it...(Ps: if you want to request I'll happily rewrite this because this isn't my best work), tried to make readers' personalities like Homura but honestly, the wiki did me dirty, Slight reference to Homura’s witch form (jing yuan).

𝒟𝒶𝓃 𝐻𝑒𝓃𝑔

He held you so close in his arms as if you were the most gentle thing in the entire universe. 

He didn’t believe it, he couldn’t take your betrayal, not like this. 

He wants to be mad, to let go, yet he can’t.

Looking at you, the way you gazed back at him with wide eyes and tears in the corner of your eyes. He loves you too much to lose you.

“Please don’t run away from me, I’ll care for you no matter what.”

𝒲𝑒𝓁𝓉 𝓎𝒶𝓃𝑔

“Tell me if it’s too tight.”

Feeling the bandage wrapped around your leg so gently as if you were made of delicate glass. You didn’t even want to look at any of your injuries only for it to bring shame in your mind. You never wanted anyone to see you like this, even welt.

“is it too tight?”

“It’s fine.” 

you just huff out, not even looking his way—just afraid of making eye contact with him— with your eyes staring intently at the wall instead. 

“I’m not mad at you if you think I am.”

 he whispers to you, but it sounds like he is shouting it, “I’m just worried about you.” tying the knot around the bandage.

feeling like your throat goes dry, leaving your lungs airless, unsure of what to say back; if you mess up again “I’m glad you still care. that's what I wanted to say.”

𝐵𝑜𝑜𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓁𝓁

“What do you think you’re doing?”

You sigh, taking in the loss of this fight. You betrayed your lover, betrayed him, and also lost to him. Yet now he’s still carrying you in his arms like you’re the most delicate thing the world would have to offer.

“Duh, takin’ care of ya.”

“But why?” Staring up at him with a confused look “Are you stupid or have a couple bolts loose after our?” 

“Hey, that ain’t no way to talk about yer’ saviour? I loved ya once and still do, even if ya stab. You’re stuck with me until I just blown up or somethin’”

“I tried to kill you.”

“Who hasn’t? Least’ ya were gentle with it, Means ya still love me.”

“I wasn’t even gentle..”

“Ya were. Don’t get embarrassed.”

𝒥𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒴𝓊𝒶𝓃

You just lay on the cold ground, hoping to be swallowed by the world or just be killed. Your arms were restrained, which probably just made it easier for Jing Yuan to deal with the aftermath of all of this. 

Feeling your breath choke up on you, tears well up in the corners of your eyes. “Crying never suited you in the slightest.” He moved your hair to the side, so it wouldn’t playfully poke your eyes. His hand gently goes over the restraints and pulls them off of you.

Tears ran down your face but you didn’t make a noise or even move to stop it.  You didn’t have much energy left in you to try. 

“If you want to protect me so badly then maybe I should try playing a damsel in distress.”

his hand goes to wipe the tear off of your face,  his thumb softly moving across your cheekbone before moving to your chin. blood rushing to your cheeks,  your eyes wide in shock as you look at him through blurry vision.

“I’ll love you even when you’ll hate me. Stab me. Boucher me. I’ll love you”

if you liked this, consider tipping me on ko-fi! it'd mean a lot!

[nihilnothings]

The Contradictions of Denji Hayakawa and why it’s humanly real

Introduction

“Why does Denji not learn his lesson, is he stupid?”

You’re not entirely wrong but you’re not entirely right.

One of the common gripes of some fans is that Denji appears to not have changed because he keeps falling for women with red flags in exchange for sexual favours, but honestly if anyone paid attention and not get let their emotions do the thinking, he actually has changed for the better in one aspect but he’s struggling for another:

Denji has succeeded in familial love but it doesn’t necessarily mean that it translates to his romantic life.

You can be a decent/good friend or good brother but that doesn’t mean you’ll not fumble with women or romance

What Denji Has Succeeded and How He Did It

One good thing that Makima (unintentionally) did was putting him with Power and Aki. They had a rough start but eventually as all people know he eventually saw them as surrogate family members and Power became one of if not the first close female character he viewed in a platonic sense than in a romantic/sexual sense as at least from his end.

Though they were gone from his life, the lessons he learned never left. Old Denji would only think about his own survival and the carnal pleasures of sex as well as basic necessities, New Denji however stepped up and took on the big gamble of raising the ticking time bomb that is the Control Devil, Nayuta. It can be implied that due to him being shown good examples, Denji was able to succeed in raising Nayuta.

This can strongly conclude that Denji learns by being shown and eventually doing it himself.

For all his setbacks he was a good brother because he had one himself

Interlude: A Common Trope Being Slightly Subverted

We and most of their mothers here know how Part 1 ended, Denji’s broken spirit is mended, he learns more about love and relationships, defeated Makima, and now focuses on living another day as CSM raising her so hooray no more issues right?

It even ended in a seemingly victorious note

I feel like when a long-running series has a continuation and replaces them with a new protagonist, people expect the old protagonist to act as some sort of “mentor” who has everything figured out and helps out the new protagonist in the ropes.

The thing is just because you have one thing figured out doesn’t necessarily mean it translates to everything, real life isn’t like that.

For all of its fantastic elements, Fujimoto characters tend to be praised for being “human” or “real”, it doesn’t exactly mean that it 100% translates to our reality but the way they behave at least resembles somewhat to us humans in real life. Like humans we are, we don’t move linearly forwards or backwards, we move in a haphazard direction that eventually, hopefully, takes us forward, only to repeat that cycle again for a different experience until we reach our inevitable death.

This is what’s currently happening to Denji, he hasn’t had all the things figured out (considering his background, pretty impressive tbh) and he hasn’t reached his goals of finding a good romantic partner. If he had succeeded, then we would be shown a “perfect” Denji that’ll eventually woo Asa without having his own issues or a character who acts as Denji’s girlfriend as a sign that he as a character is fully actualized.

Which is why we see him relapsing against his better judgement.

What Denji is Struggling Right Now and Why Old Habits Die Hard

One of the other things that Makima taught him right is that the activity of sex will be good when it’s done with someone significant and this usually means a romantic partner.

Therefore, when Denji wants sex he also wants a romantic partner along with it.

Now the problem lies in the fact that most of Denji’s romantic experiences weren’t really good at all, most of the women in his life tried to kill and use him, even Asa did once, but thankfully he was shown that she might not be all that bad after all and might lead onto something good for once even if the paths have now caused them to diverge putting that development to a halt. As it is strongly suggested that Denji learns by example, the fact that terrible examples were mostly shown is what’s probably causing him to blunder his romantic life which inadvertently blocks him from having good sex.Not only that but he was essentially mind-broken by Makima to the point of him losing any desire at all, considering how IRL abuse leaves scars, it cannot be denied that toxic patterns still exist within Denji in relation to romance and sex.

He used Chainsaw Man, an important part of him and the part that many people love (especially the ladies), as a means to hook women into a romantic relationship with him, though with Yoshida’s attempts and no sign of a girlfriend, it seems that tactic might not be as effective after all (ironically it did lead him to score Asa unknowingly).

Then, for the sake of Nayuta, he gave away that identity, and thus no longer had a tool to woo women because with all the things that happened in Part 1 and in Part 2, no women seemed to be interested in Denji Hayakawa, thus leaving him listless and desperate. With that he removed the intimate part of sex and hyper-focused on the carnal part out of boredom and desperation with Sus Girl.

However, him struggling doesn’t necessarily mean zero progress, Old Denji wouldn’t have thought of anything and just went with the flow but the fact that he did thought of it shows that he shouldn’t be doing it (he even has a look of shame of doing making the scene of 137 both hilarious and depressing, in the words of abridged Popo, deprerious).

Relapse is a bitch

If Fujimoto didn’t show the hypothetical scenario then we would’ve thought that it was just a cheap gag but the fact that he showed it means that Denji and he knows that this is what the character should be doing but instead he did the opposite making the scene both a gag and a message that change isn’t easy.

Relapsing is a real thing, ask any druggie, addict, junkie, smoker, etc. they all know that it’s wrong but they do it anyway because it’s been their “normal” for so damn long. Heck, let’s not even get to addiction, how many times do you know that procrastination is bad yet still keep doing it anyways? Some might already succeed but a large part of people still keep doing it because it’s been their “normal” even if being productive is better than doing useless shit like making an analysis of Denji’s contradictory behaviours instead of revising your thesis.

Conclusion

Denji’s constant back and forth on the surface looks inconsistent on the outside, but considering all that happened is it a surprise that he’s failing at romance and attempts despite his best in dealing with it? What he needs is someone to show him the right way of handling it, that person doesn’t have to be perfect, but at least teach him that relationships should not be completely transactory and is the work of two people, only then can he probably reduce his mistakes and develop healthier approaches.

Relapsing is a human experience and considering that CSM characters are said to be close to real life, maybe we should view his experience as someone who is struggling to be better but has no capable person to show him.

[daryl-dixon-daydreams]

Words: 3,324 Daryl Dixon x Reader Reader pronouns: she/her Era: Alexandria Warnings: Language, typical TWD stuff A/N: This is Part 6 of a series! Find the previous parts on the Masterlist! Summary: Daryl worries about Y/N after the traumatic incident outside the wall.

Your name: submit What is this?

Daryl didn’t see you that whole day after he had talked with Rick, or the next morning so he decided to pay you a visit and make sure you were okay. He wiped his hands on the rag he always kept in his back pocket and put away the tools he had been using to work on his bike. Just as he was getting ready to leave, Aaron stepped out into the garage and Daryl greeted him with a nod.

“Done for the day?”

Daryl shrugged. “For now at least.” He thoughtfully chewed his bottom lip for a moment. “Hey, uhh, ya seen Y/N since that night we got back?”

Aaron’s face fell a bit but he nodded. “I stopped by her place yesterday.”

Daryl leaned back against the table, crossing his arms over his chest. “How’d she seem?”

Aaron shrugged and sighed heavily. “She seemed… okay. I don’t think she’s been sleeping,” he said a little hesitantly. He shook his head, frowning. “The bruising on her neck… it’s bad. Thank God you were there.”

Daryl’s stomach flipped at the thought. “Ya… Well, the whole thing was bad. Those people? Seemed like—” he hesitated to say what was on his mind, to confide in Aaron, but he also felt like it was eating him alive. Maybe if he spoke it, he would feel less consumed by it. “It seemed like they knew her.”

Aaron’s brow drew down low over his eyes. “Hmm. What do you mean?”

“I heard ‘em say she was comin’ ‘back where she belongs.’ And more than that—if they had wanted to kill her, she’d be dead. They both had guns and knives on ‘em. But they didn’t. They were tryin’ ta take her.”

The shadow on Aaron’s face deepened and he rubbed a hand thoughtfully over his chin and mouth. “Well, I don’t think I need to tell you that the intentions of some men out there in this world are even more emboldened now,” he said with disgust.

“Yeah… But ain’t the first time neither. That night I stitched up that gash in her arm she said the same thing. She said ‘if they had wanted to kill me, I’d be dead.’”

Aaron gulped and shook his head. “I don’t know what—I just—I don’t know,” he said vaguely. “She hasn’t told me much about before.”

Daryl turned back to the table and fiddled with some of the parts. “Seems like she’s got a target painted on her. Maybe she shouldn’t be out,” he thought aloud.

Aaron shook his head. “Yeah, well that will never happen. Trying to keep her inside Alexandria is like trying to hold water in your hands. We’d probably have to lock her up.” He sighed heavily again and rested his hands on his hips. “Whatever is out there, whatever her past is… she knows the risks of going out. There isn’t going to be any convincing her to stay inside.”

Daryl nodded and chewed the side of his thumbnail. “Ya…”

Aaron let out a wry laugh. “I mean, can you imagine if someone told you that you needed to stay inside?”

One corner of Daryl’s mouth twitched upwards. “Ya. I know. Ain’t happenin’.” Daryl sighed. “Well, I guess the only thing for it is to try to convince her not to go alone.”

Aaron smiled at the archer. “Sounds reasonable. Know anyone for the job?” he joked. Daryl shot him a look and Aaron laughed and held his hands up. “See you later, Daryl.”

Daryl hummed an acknowledgement, set down the part he’d been anxiously fiddling with, and headed out of the garage in the direction of your house.

He felt a bit nervous as he climbed the stairs on your front porch, noticing how clammy his palms suddenly felt, and when first he knocked there was a long silence. He wondered if you were going to answer the door at all and a distinct worry seized him—that you really weren’t okay. But, finally, he could hear some soft footsteps approaching the other side of the door and then it opened a crack.

You peeked out hesitantly but as soon as you saw it was Daryl you opened the door wide. “Daryl. Hi.”

He cleared his throat a little awkwardly. “Hey.”

Aaron was right. You looked exhausted. There were dark circles under your eyes and your shoulders were somewhat slumped.

You continued to peer at him, waiting for some explanation for why he was standing there at your door.

“I, uhh—I hadn’t seen ya since we got back. Just wanted to see if ya needed anything. Ya know, and see how you’re healin’ up.”

“Oh. That’s—you want to come in?” you offered stepping back to make way for his broad-shouldered frame.

“Thanks,” Daryl murmured as he crossed the threshold. You shut the door behind him and he followed you up the hall and into the kitchen. He could see a pillow and blanket laid out on the couch in the living room. It looked like you’d been camping out there. He gave you a questioning glance. “So, how ya feelin’?” Daryl’s eyes found the dark bruising around your neck.

“I’m fine. Thanks,” you said a little quietly.

He considered you thoughtfully for a moment, chewing the inside of his cheek. “Ya sure?”

You sighed heavily and pressed a hand to your forehead. “Yeah. I just—haven’t slept really,” you admitted.

Daryl nodded, looking again at the makeshift bed in your living room. “Ya camping out down here?”

You followed him as he trailed over to peer at the blankets spilling off the couch and onto the floor. “Uhh… sort of. I thought maybe a change of scenery would help.” And you had the thought that if you were on the ground floor, you’d hear someone trying to break into your house…

“Did it?” he asked, his blue eyes finding yours.

“Not really.”

The archer’s brow drew down, veiling his eyes in shadow, and he let out a hum of acknowledgement. “Ya know if having other people around would help, ya could—” he cleared his throat again, his heart racing, “ya could come stay over at our place. We’ve got a full house. Ya know, if—if it’d feel safer. Ya could take my bed. It’s in the basement away from everybody.” He watched your eyelashes flutter as you looked up at him in surprise.

“Oh. I can’t—that—that’s okay,” you said, averting your eyes back down toward your feet.

Daryl’s heart was pounding as he offered up his second idea, nervously rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. “Well, I—I could stay over here. Just to, ya know, keep an eye on things. If it’d help.” Your eyes lifted back up to his face again and there was that vulnerability in your eyes again that always surprised him. He watched as your lips parted slightly as you prepared to speak.

“I can’t—I can’t ask you to do that,” you said softly, quickly averting your eyes from the sudden softness in his and fiddling with the hem of your sleeve.

“Ya ain’t askin’. I offered,” he said. “If ya think it’d help ya get some sleep. You’re healin’ up. Ya need it.”

You glanced up at him again, now your expression was somewhat guarded as you took him in. You gulped at the nervous lump in your throat. “They aren’t gonna miss you over there?” you asked hesitantly.

“Nah,” he said.

You watched him for a long moment, considering his offer, but at length you nodded, remembering how well you had slept with him nearby even outside of Alexandria’s walls. Since you’d gotten back the nightmares had returned and gotten worse, likely a result of your latest encounter. “Okay. If—if you don’t mind.”

Daryl’s heart fluttered at the grateful look you gave him, your eyes fixed on him and only him. He nodded. “I dun mind.” He nudged his nose up at you twice in a nod. “I’ll come by later.” You watched as he stalked into the kitchen and went over to the refrigerator.

“What are you doing?” You watched him pull it open and look inside before glancing back over his shoulder at you.

He closed the door pointedly. “Just what I thought. Ain’t got no damn food in here either. Ya been eatin’?”

You gulped and shrugged vaguely.

“Ya, uh huh. I’ll bring somethin’ later. Ya need to eat,” he rumbled. He started to stride quickly to the front door and you trailed a little behind him. He stopped on the threshold and looked back at you. There was that softness in his eyes again that always made your heart jump. “I’ll be back later, alright?”

You avoided his eyes, feeling suddenly silly and ashamed of what you were asking him to do, that you needed someone else when you tried so hard not to need anyone or anything. His deep voice, rough with gravel called your eyes back to his.

“Hey. It ain’t no big deal. Alright?” he said, trying to reassure you, reading the shame on your face as clearly as if the word had been tattooed on your forehead.

You nodded a little, giving in to his reassurance. “Okay.”

“’Kay,” he agreed. You watched him cross the porch and go down your stairs, headed back home. That’s what he had. A home. It hit you that all you really had was an empty house and your heart ached. It was the price you paid for trying to keep almost everyone at arm’s length. You sighed heavily and shut the door.

Several hours later, there was another knock on the front door. You got up from your spot on the couch, still carrying your book and went to the door. Daryl was standing there with his crossbow slung over his shoulder and a small container in his hands. Night had fallen outside and the porchlights illuminated the strong angles of his jaw. You felt a flush in your cheeks and hoped he couldn’t see it.

You stepped back and gestured for him to come in.

“Brought ya some stew. Venison. We’ve still got a bunch of it,” he said, heading immediately for the kitchen and starting to open cabinets, looking for a pot to dump it in so he could heat it up. “And you’re eatin’ some of this now.” He paused and looked up at you over the counter. “When is the last time ya ate?”

“Uhh…”

He scoffed and rolled his eyes at you. “Too damn long, then.” He resumed his searching and eventually succeeded. He set it on the stove to heat up. You sank down onto one of the kitchen stools at the island, watching him as he stirred the hearty meal. Daryl turned around and took in your expression from across the kitchen, slinging his crossbow off his shoulder and letting it hang at his side.

“Whatcha readin’?” he asked.

Your eyes shot up at the sound of his voice. “Oh, uhh… it’s just this classic novel. The Brothers Karamazov.”

Daryl’s eyes narrowed as he looked at you. “The what?”

You actually smiled at him, your whole face lighting up. Daryl felt his heart flutter and he was relieved to see that some of the weight that seemed to be on you was lifted, even if just for a moment. “Yeah, it’s a mouthful,” you said. “I’ve got this thing for the great Russian writers so…”

“Russian, huh? What’s so special about ‘em?”

“They just—I don’t know. They write these beautiful, insane, touching, tragic stories. I just—” you shrugged. “The writing is incredible, even in translation.” You paused thoughtfully and Daryl felt a warmth in his chest as you looked down at the novel in your hand and smoothed your hand over the cover, staring at it like it was something precious. “And I suppose now, since the world changed, the tragedy in the stories is even more relatable,” you said softly.

Daryl felt a pang in his heart at your words. Your eyes flitted back up to meet his and he felt a spark of electricity jump up his spine.

Daryl rubbed a hand across the back of his neck and hoisted his crossbow up onto the counter, using it as an excuse to break eye contact with you as he felt suddenly terrified of the magnetic pull he was feeling.

“What’d you tell everybody?” you asked quietly.

Daryl didn’t look up from the bolt he was examining closely. “Didn’t tell ‘em nothin’.”

“Won’t they worry about where you are?”

He shrugged. “Nah. S’fine.” He quickly turned back to the stew on the stove which now had curls of steam rising from the surface of it. He pulled open some more cabinets until he found a bowl and quickly poured stew from the pan into it before setting it in front of you. He opened drawers until he found a spoon, which he slid over to you with a metallic clinking against the granite of the countertop. You were giving him a queer look. “What?”

You shook your head, one corner of your mouth twitching up. “Nothing.”

“Mmm,” he hummed, his eyes narrowed. “Eat,” he drawled.

The corners of your eyes crinkled in a smile. “You’re awfully bossy today,” you joked, picking up the spoon. You stared down into the stew, not feeling the least bit hungry despite not eating anything all day.

He let out a scoff and leaned on his forearms on the counter, his curtain of brown hair falling forward around his face. “I’m bossy when someone needs bossin’,” he quipped.

You took a bite of the stew, holding the spoon a bit awkwardly with the brace on your wrist, and chewed it slowly. Daryl watched you carefully. The smile on your face had disappeared again and he couldn’t stop his eyes from drifting to the bruises on your neck. He felt a renewed flush of hot anger every time. He sighed and straightened up, picking up his crossbow and slinging it over his shoulder in a well-practiced habit.

“How’re your ribs feelin’?” he drawled.

You dipped your spoon back into the bowl of stew and shrugged. “Fine. Really, I’m fine.”

Daryl nodded, but you could tell he was a little skeptical. He moved around the counter and into the living room, sinking into a chair and kicking his feet up to rest on the coffee table. You dutifully sat and ate your stew until it was gone before going to join him with your book. You pushed the blankets on the couch out of the way and allowed yourself to watch the nimble workings of his strong fingers as he fiddled with his bow and the narrowing of his blue eyes in concentration. Your heart increased its pace. Finally, you broke the silence again. “Thanks for doing this,” you said. You hadn’t meant for it to come out in a whisper but it had, the tightness in your throat from shame and nerves strangling your voice a little.

The workings of Daryl’s fingers ceased for a moment and he looked like he was frozen, turned to stone. “I dun mind,” he finally said. His blue eyes lifted and met yours and briefly he thought he saw some glistening light there, but in a moment he had blinked and it was gone. You were simply pulling the blanket over your lap and running your fingers along the spine of your book. Daryl pulled out a sharpening stone and went about carefully sharpening some of his bolts. You settled back against the couch and opened your book, curled up beneath the blanket. It was strange how usual, how comfortable this felt. Each passing moment of silence, each murmur to one another, each question and response all felt so easy, and that was something Daryl kept turning over and over in his mind. He wasn’t used to that. He wasn’t used to feeling so at home around another person and it was becoming a habit with you. The thought made him bounce his knee nervously.

Daryl wasn’t sure when, but at some point as he sat across from you sharpening his bolts you had drifted off to sleep. Your book was still open but had dropped down onto your chest, your left hand resting on it. Your breathing was slow and deep and Daryl felt a wave of warmth and gladness wash over him that you were actually asleep. And he wondered at the fact that not only were your comfortable enough with him around to fall asleep, but he was what enabled you to when you otherwise couldn’t. Did you think of him as safety? God, he hoped so… He was puzzling over this, smoothing his thumb across his lower lip as he took in your soft expression and the way your hair was falling around your face.

He felt his heart speed up as his eyes traced the gentle pout of your mouth and the slope of your nose in profile. He rubbed a hand at the warm and achy feeling in his chest that was becoming common, annoyed at how his mind was running away on him...

The archer stood and silently crossed the room to you. He grasped one corner of your open book and slipped it gently from your hands, setting it on the coffee table. He pulled the blanket up over you before retreating back to his chair and his bow.

You awoke as the sun was coming up, lighting the living room slowly, drenching everything in warm light. You blinked a few times, getting your bearings, and then gingerly pulled yourself up into a sitting position. Your eyes landed on the archer, asleep in his chair with his head cocked to one side, his bow leaning up against the armrest next to him. He must have heard you stirring because he was awake the next instant, taking in a deep breath and straightening. His eyes meeting yours. “Hey.” The gravel in his voice was thick, heavy with sleep still.

“Hey,” you replied. Daryl was relieved to see how much brighter your eyes looked. The dark circles beneath them were also diminished.

“I didn’t—I slept,” you said with gentle surprise.

He nodded. “Ya. Ya were exhausted. Ya fell asleep early. Ya needed it,” he said, grabbing his crossbow and pulling it onto his lap, his heart rushing at the sight of your somewhat tousled hair and the rosy glow in your cheeks.

“Thank you,” you said softly.

He nodded and stood, throwing his bow over his shoulder again. “S’nothin’. Glad ya got some sleep.”

You pulled yourself up, subconsciously wrapping an arm around your ribs as they panged with the movement. Daryl was already heading through the kitchen and toward the front door. He stopped and his blue eyes fixed on your face. “Ya know, I get ‘em too sometimes,” he said quietly.

You heart raced. Had he guessed why you weren’t sleeping so easily? “What?”

“Nightmares,” he said. “About the people we’ve lost. About losing more.”

You gulped at the tightness in your throat and nodded. “Yeah…”

“I’ll see ya later, Y/N,” he drawled. He pointed at you sharply. “Eat some more of that damn stew.”

You smiled at him, the corners of your eyes crinkling. “You got it.”

[godstiel-coded]

So... What if Jimmy fell in love with Dean?

In Heaven, in Chuck's days, you could watch over anyone you were tethered to. Most people didn't. It made 'em sad and they bad everything they could ever want and the time didn't pass the same. Jimmy did, watched Cas, but the way one watches a soap opera. Cas' left over shreds of grace connected them. Technically Cas' vessel was made in his image and not of his body, apparently? So, he guesses that's the only other connection.

He's with his wife, she's sworn off watching Claire. It hurts her too bad to see her baby girl running around with strange women and killing things and doing sinful things. She never shared a body with an Angel, she doesn't get it.

Jimmy watches the 'tv' whenever he gets a chance,sometimes with his Wife. Usually? Not. Cas isn't him. In fact, they have almost nothing in common, and his body grows less like Jimmy steadily, while Jimmy hasn't aged a day, in fact he's a bit younger than when he started vesseling. Amelia says it's because he was he was happier then. Amelia hates Cas.

Jimmy should hate Cas. He's got every right to. He's not him and he's wearing his face and raising his Daughter and being really fucking weird the whole way.

Amelia is Homophobic. Not something Jimmy thought would ever affect them, he's more sympathetic but it never affected him.

Not until he hosted a Gay Angel anyways.

Now it... Kinda matters to him. He remembers that. The way the Angel felt for Dean.... Jimmy didn't think Humans could feel that way. He never had.

He couldn't stop watching. He remembered how Dean had made Cas feel and he was fascinated, looking for all those little things. He didn't think Dean even knew he did them.

Cas is not Jimmy.

Yet, he can't help but to sorta project onto him, relate to him. Afterall, that is his face, and he remembers what it likes to love Dean.

The feeling returns to the front of his memory when he watched them together.

The memory.

Because things with Amelia are almost perfect.

Would be perfect, if it wasn't for how.... Complicated, the Claire thing was.

The years going by don't feel so long to Jimmy. Not the way they do for Cas or Dean.

Not the way it shows on how fast Claire is growing up. Without him.

That still stings. Gay or not, Hunter or not, that's his daughter and he's had too much time to reflect to care about the rest.

She has Cas and Jody and Kaia and Donna.... At least there's that.

If Jimmy maybe wishes he was down there, it was because that's where his kid is. Where the important things--other than Amelia--are.

Not because Dean looks weirdly good when he tosses up a blade.

Not because he can't help but see himself, in Cas, even when he shouldn't, even when there's nothing to see.

That'd be absurd.

When he sees what isn't quite him, on the couch with his daughter who's all grown up, calling someone else Dad "on accident" sometimes and painting the son of Lucifer's nails while a beautiful man he remembers loving stroke his-not his-head.

Jimmy can't quite stand it.

He stops watching.

He tries to make it okay, with Amelia. It's not okay. Maybe it was never really that okay.

Maybe he resents her.

Maybe he wishes those green eyes looked at the real him like that. Wish anyone did.

Maybe he impulsively sought Dean out, after he died, to ask about Claire. Told Amelia to stay, that he didn't want her in that mess.

Maybe Dean stared at him with that look. The one he wanted and it wasn't even for him. Dean realised Jimmy wasn't Cas almost too quickly. Which makes sense. He was younger and different in almost every way. He wasn't Cas. He never could be. No one would ever look at him like that. His own Daughter wouldn't look at hin the way she looked at Cas. Not after all these years.

Jimmy didn't even have it in him to hate him for it. So he had a drink with Dean, and was told about the things he couldn't see, his heart tearing with every word for a million reasons. Told him that Castiel's love for him was somethin' to cherish.

And then he went home to his Wife.

In heaven.

He told her about how much Claire loved Kaia and he didn't turn his head for Amelia's ways any more.

Maybe one day he would tell her that she was the dirty outlier of their family.

[rodeo-boots]

Last Embers on a Quiet Night

Rating: General

Pairing: Lenny Summers x Sean MacGuire

Prompts: First Kiss, Darkness

Notes: Late Contribution to the RDRRarePairWeek, why are these two a rarepair?? They’re the best <3

AO3

–––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

He had stared at his friend for many nights already, had sat across from him at the campfire with a bottle in hand and simply looked. But Sean had never paid as much attention as now, not to the stories that left Lenny's mouth nor how the flames illuminated his features in a bright and orange glow.

By now, he had even forgotten all about the bottle in his hands, the beer he had nursed for the entire evening already, it's presence reminding him that he wasn't even drunk. Sean had no excuse to be staring at his friend like this, least of all sober, had no excuse to seek his gaze time and time again just to catch another glimpse of the intelligence in the younger man's eyes.

They weren't alone at the campfire, but it sure felt that way. It felt like the entire world revolved around them alone, and yet, no one noticed but them. Though Sean wasn't even sure if Lenny paid any attention to his glances.

His thoughts carried on, leading him into realms he had never allowed them to wander before and soon enough, his eyes were glued to Lenny's lips. Wondering if the man had ever kissed another – if the man had even had his first kiss at all. With the lives they've lived until now, the hardships Lenny had to overcome and the fight for survival that came with it, Sean figured he hasn't had time for the brighter sides of life. That he had never even dared to think of better times waiting ahead of him in the future.

The further the night progressed, the darker it became. Before long, most members of camp had retired to their bedrolls, even the strumming of Javier's guitar strings soon silenced around them. Only Lenny and Sean were left now, the atmosphere quiet but for the crackling of the fire.

Lenny picked up a twig, poking at the remnants of wood and ashes before leaning back where he sat. He had a thoughtful look about him, almost as if his thoughts had wandered just like Sean's had all this time.

"You think we'll be fine?" He spoke up, his eyes suddenly trained on Sean's face. Not expecting the question, or for any words to be spoken here and now to begin with, Sean blinked at the other man, shrugged his shoulders.

"Dutch always found a way 'til now." And for the time being, it seemed like they would be alright. They had saved him from being hanged, and had freed him from the grasp of bounty hunters. Sean didn't want to think anything but positive thoughts. "We had it worse," he added, needing to say something more before the conversation would die and Lenny might decide he'd rather go to sleep for the time being.

They all needed their rest, needed their strength up for the days to come, for the jobs they were meant to do. Money was their priority for now, getting back onto their feet the most important thing they had left to do. Sean felt lucky that he hadn't been up the same snowy mountains the other gang-members had survived; though not all of them had made their way down again.

Lenny released a thoughtful sigh, glancing into the embers of the fire. It was going to burn down before long, Sean could tell. But neither of them made a move to gather more firewood and keep it alive. "I was just thinkin', because Hosea said I should get out while I still can." His voice was low, almost as if he didn't want anyone to overhear.

Sean raised a brow. He hadn't heard anything of the like from the older man, briefly turning backwards now to take a look at the spot he had chosen to sleep. "You're a smart man," he spoke up eventually. "Y'know what's best for you." Lifting the bottle back to his lips, Sean took a sip, only absentmindedly fearing that Lenny might truly take his chances to leave the gang behind. "But you wouldn’t wanna leave good ol’ Sean behind," he raised a brow, the corners of his mouth lifting into a lopsided smile.

There was no doubt that Lenny could make something of himself out in the real world, no doubt that he had it in him to try and earn money the honorable way. Which was where he and Sean were inherently different. Because for Sean, there was no other possibility than to rob and steal and kill. He needed the thrill, the gratification. He wanted change, but he wanted it on his own terms.

Lenny chuckled, mumbling an "if you say so" with a shake of his head. He brought his hands over his face, yawning softly before turning his head towards Sean. Using one hand to reach out, he gestured for his friend to pass him the bottle of beer. It was still full, after all, plenty left for them to share. And Sean didn't have a problem doing that. Right now, he knew he didn't have to keep up an image, knew that he didn't have to impress anyone. Morgan and Dutch were asleep, only Lenny and he left to witness the quieter side of his character.

His eyes didn't move on again when Lenny brought the bottle to his lips, watching how he drank from the same beer he had nursed just a few moments ago. He was unable to get it out of his head how their lips had been in the same spot now, swallowing when he realized that he'd been staring for much too long.

"Do I have somethin' on my face?" Lenny laughed, passing the bottle back over to him, only for Sean to instantly shake his head. His cheeks were glowing through the darkness, but now that the last of the fire had been blown out by the wind, it was hard to see that.

Instead of answering, Sean gulped down more of the beer, bringing the bottle away with a cough, burping into his fist and smiling when Lenny playfully smacked his arm in response. "You're disgusting," said his friend, though it sounded like a compliment coming from him.

"And you love it," Sean replied before he knew it, easily teasing the other right back as though he's never done anything else in his life. It was easy to talk to Lenny, to feel comfortable around him. The two of them were closer in age than Sean was with any other member of camp, excluding the girls who only enjoyed his company on some occasions.

The night continued, and neither of them seemed ready for bed just yet. They only sat there and drank, Sean lighting a cigarette to share among them as well. Their breaths had been visible through the cold atmosphere before, but now that smoke was added to the mix, each exhale brought a small cloud with it.

Despite the silence around them and the song of the cicadas coming from left and right, Sean started to feel more confident the longer he sat by his friend's side. He glanced over at him after a while, just from the corners of his eyes, surprised when he found Lenny's eyes on him as well. "I've been wonderin'," he spoke up now, setting the bottle down between them and stubbing his cigarette out in the dirt. "If you ever been kissed by a girl."

Lenny chortled, certainly not having expected that kind of thing to go through his friend's head. "Why?" He asked, curiosity within his tone of voice. "You wanna play cupid and pair me off with one of the girls?"

Sean shook his head, a toothy grin appearing on his lips. He wasn't all that drunk, could definitely take much more than half a bottle of beer, but he was feeling sure of himself by now nonetheless. "Maybe I wanna kiss ya," he mumbled, masking his words as a joke just to see his friend's reaction, knowing that as an outlaw, he shouldn't speak a suggestion such as this in the first place.

Just like he had expected, Lenny looked taken aback for a moment. He stared at him as if he had three heads, tension building between then until it was easily broken by the man's bright laughter. "Sure," he chuckled. "And I'll be all too happy to give my first kiss to a man who can't be bothered to chew mint-leaves once a day." Despite his playful tone of voice, and the disbelief within it, he seemed interested – at least to some degree.

"You never even tried kissin' anyone?" Sean was sure that he could've, if he had ever wished to, Lenny being an attractive man to begin with, a smart one at that – definitely one the ladies would choose over him any day.

"Not everyone's as much of a lady's man as you," Lenny joked, alluding to the relationship between Sean and Karen. The relationship that Sean wasn't sure he was in by now. They had gone back and forth for a while, had messed around a couple of times, but maybe they were better off as friends after all.

"Well– I ain't no lady," Sean grinned once again, feeling like he had just said the smartest thing he's thought of all night. "And I'm right here," he scooted closer, sitting down by his friend's side with their thighs pressed together. "So if you wanna give it a shot..." but he didn't need to ask for more, Lenny rolling his eyes before leaning in, his mouth closed when he pecked Sean's lips for little more than a second.

The touch had lasted them way too shortly, Sean pouting when Lenny pulled away again, finding his eyes through the darkness that surrounded them. "That wasn't romantic at all," he complained, opening his mouth to say something more.

Lenny cut him off by speaking a challenge, however. "Show me, then," he baited, a smile once again at his lips.

And Sean happily did, reaching out with a tenderness no one would think he'd possess, resting his hand on the side of Lenny's face before leaning in. He tilted his head in what he hoped to be an expert move, their noses still bumping once he leaned in further. His eyes fluttered shut when their lips finally met properly, and while the kiss wasn't as polished and perfect as he had planned it out in his head, it was undeniably good.

Lenny's lips were soft beneath his own, shyly moving against Sean's while he tried to keep up with the kiss. He had to pull away for air soon, because no matter how much of a lady's man people thought him to be, he hadn't properly kissed anyone before, either.

[maraudersbutmuggle]

Summer 2012, Part 6

Check part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, and part 5.

It was the perfect day. At least Sirius had been distracted. He didn't take his shades off. Not even at night. Nobody pressured him to do so, or talk about the subject. The boys just talked about other things.

Remus noticed sometimes Sirius dozed off. Perhaps thinking about Regulus. Perhaps thinking about the consequences.

Guilt. Guilt. Guilt. That's all that Remus felt. He hadn't talked to his father in days. And Grant didn't have any parents. And Sirius had horrible ones. Nobody knew the reason he was kicked out. Sirius wouldn't talk about it.

And Remus would have to talk with Grant. Euphemia and Fleamont had begged Remus and Peter to stay for the rest of the summer. Promising them to take them to the train on September. Remus hoped to see Grant again. He didn't know what Grant did to Remus' feelings for Sirius. He only knew they were still there.

The Marauders were lying in the living room after dinner. Playing video games. They were tired and full. Maaike had forced Remus to eat a second plate, claiming he was too skinny for her taste.

"So..." Peter interrupted the silence "James thinks my mum is hot. Tell me you don't think that Sirius"

Sirius laughed "Oh I definitely think your mum is hot"

"I'm no longer participating in this conversation" Peter grunted

"You started it, mate" James protested.

Remus laughed.

"Remus?" Peter asked

Remus considered telling his friends about him being gay and all. They were cool with the trans thing. But there was a part of Remus that was scared of what they were going to say. And somehow, he wanted to keep Grant to himself.

"Don't worry, I'm not into mums, Wormy"

"Thank you"

"Don't worry Wormy" James sighed "I have eyes for someone else"

"Who? Moony's mum?" Sirius joked.

James threw him a pillow. Sirius laughed.

"Oh please no" Remus groaned.

"Lily... You assholes"

Remus, Sirius and Peter groaned at the same time.

"Not again" Peter covered his face with his pillow.

"Excuse me?" James protested "I haven't talked about Evans in a long time"

"Yeah because you were with Macdonald"

"And I actually fancied Mary" James explained "But lately, I can't stop thinking about Evans"

Remus understood the feeling. It had happened with the boy lying next to him. The gorgeous asshole with his stupid shades. He looked like a rockstar.

"That's great..." Peter commented "Oh yes! I killed you Moony"

Remus had been distracted staring at Sirius that he stopped defending himself in Mortal Kombat.

"Oh shit..." Remus said sarcastically "Please plan a good funeral for me"

"Never" Peter joked

"Hello?" James said "I'm currently whining about my crush"

"What can we do about it Prongs?" Sirius asked

"I think she hates me" James pouted "She hasn't spoken to me since you know..." they knew he was talking about the Snape incident. "Maybe she is right, Maybe I am a bad person"

"Woow, handsome" Sirius said "I'm gonna stop you right there. You're not bad"

James didn't look convinced.

"You're not, James" Remus added. Now very serious "You were only defending me. You all were. It was all my fault and..."

"It was all Snivellus!" Peter interrupted,

"I couldn't let that asshole say those things about you, Moony" James said "You guys are my family, okay? I could kill anyone that hurts you. As cliche and cheesy as it sounds" he rubbed his hair.

Sirius smiled for the first time in the night.

"Prongsie. You are an incredible motherfucker" he said

"No need to insult me..."

"If Evans doesn't see how awful Snape is and how amazing you are, that's her fucking problem"

Remus smiled at that. Because it was true. Even if he liked Lily.

"Yeah fuck that bitch" Peter added

James smiled, then he pouted "But fuck, she is so pretty"

The boys groaned again.

***********************

"Hey, Grant"

"Hello sweetheart. I was wondering if you choked smoking a fag or somethin'. Then I felt bad to sell those to ya. They would know it was me fault and send me to jail for killin' ya"

Remus laughed. He was bloody gonna miss Grant.

"Sorry..." he said "I had a problem with a friend. He was kicked out of his house. And I needed to check if he was okay..."

"Blimey" Grant sighed

"What?"

"You've a crush on him, don' cha sweetheart?"

Remus blushed and he thanked to be talking over the phone. Was he too obvious? Was he like an open book? Or Grant was too clever to see things?

"No..." Remus lied. But he sounded terrible.

Grant laughed on the other line.

"Of course you do"

"I have a crush on you too". Remus wanted to say. But he didn't dare.

"I guess. But it doesn't matter. He doesn't feel the same"

Of this, Remus was convinced.

"Is he from the posh school you attend?"

Remus had told Grant briefly about Hogwarts. Grant had rolled in the ground with laughter as he told him about the horses.

"Yeah. We are best friends"

Grant whistled. "Tell me more about him, sweetheart"

"Why?"

Remus was embarrassed. Haven't they been snogging practically half of the summer? Was Grant jealous of Sirius? He didn't sound like it.

"I wan' to help you with him"

Remus snorted. Sirius was just inside. Watching Effie and Maaike prepare scones. Peter had told them his recipe. And he was making his own (Peter's scones were amazing).

Remus told Grant about Sirius. It felt so nice to finally talk to someone about Sirius. How he made him feel. Remus knew Grant wouldn't judge him. So he let himself be carried away.

When Remus was done, Grant let out a long whistle.

"He sounds like a freaking prince charming, sweetheart"

Remus couldn't agree more.

"The only problem is that he is very into girls"

"Is there a possibility he swings both ways?"

"Sorry?"

Grant laughed "That he's into both, sweetheart. Boys and girls"

Remus didn't know that was a possibility for Sirius. He never thought about it.

"I don't know"

"Maybe you should try just to bloody ask, or kiss 'im. Jus' like I did with ya"

Remus laughed embarrassed.

"I'm not like you"

"Righ' you're bloody nicer"

Remus blushed.

"Soo..." Grant continued after a brief silence "Are you stayin' there all summer? Could I see your sweet ass again?"

"I'm staying all summer"

"Oh..." Grant snorted, and Remus imagined him rubbing his neck. Something Remus learned he did when he was nervous, which didn't happen often "That's alrigh' sweetheart, don' worry"

"Maybe I'll see you on Christmas' '

Unlikely possibility, since The Potters had already asked them over. But he wanted to assure Grant, Remus wanted to see him again.

"Sure, darling" Grant said. Remus pictured him grinning "Don' worry about me"

"I'll call you, so pick up" Remus warned. He tried to swallow his tears. He was already missing Grant.

"Of course" Grant said "Take care of your prince charming"

Remus smiled "I'll miss you a lot"

Grant was silent for a while.

"See you around, sweetheart"

When he hung up, Remus cried a little. But he composed himself before going back inside.

[zodiyack]

Protection For The Lost

Requested by anon: hello! would you consider writing lost and found but instead of them meeting and having this cute reunion he finds out that she has a abusive possessive boyfriend (some arranged dating) and that boyfriend tries to keep tommy away from her? with a happy end?

Pairing: Thomas Shelby x reader

Warnings: Swearing, angst, violence, mentions of abuse, small abuse(?), alcohol mention, cigarettes (the word “fag” is used for it once, but it’s British slang, not a slur!), kinda cheating??

Note: I’m sorry! I'm sorry if I strayed from the request a bit! I’m not sure if I went a bit overboard with any angst or violence or anything- feedback is appreciated! In other words, I hope you like it and now I’ll leave you to read the fic.

Taglist: @captivatedbycillianmurphy​, @stydia-4-ever​, @matth1w​, @redspaceace​, @jenepleurepasbaby​, @simonsbluee​

Masterlist | Peaky Blinders Masterlist

Everyone has a reason. A reason to live, a reason to fight, a reason to sing, a reason to do things in general. If it wasn’t a lover, it was a person of an equal, yet platonic love. Perhaps a relative, a friend, a best friend, it could really be anyone. 

Most of the Shelby family already had theirs. Although John had Martha, who sadly passed, he grew to crush on a woman. A woman who, unfortunately for him, was only interested in pleasure. Arthur had Linda, their marriage happy and strong. Ada was...under suspicion to have a lover, but the point was that she had someone.

Sad, horrifying, terrible memories burned their way into Tommy’s memory. The war had an impact on him, an impact horrible and scary, but there was a sliver of light to those memories.

A woman. Or as Tommy called her, an angel sent from the heavens. As soon as he got home, he was determined to find the mystery woman who helped him, healed him, saved his life, and became his reason.

So shockingly to everyone, Tommy did have reason. She just hasn’t found her way back to him. Worries struck his heart each day, wonders of her health and if she was even alive. But determination and love were quick to ease his racing thoughts.

“I’ll find you, Angel. I’ll never give up. I promise.” Though he was aware that his vow to her was unheard, he still planned to stay true to it. 

And that he did.

Each day he got up, went on a search for Y/n/n, and talked to his family about her appearance, hopefully giving enough information that they could spot her if she were to end up in the Garrison or betting shop, pretty much anywhere they were.

With each ask of her name, everyone said no. A couple people recommended asking nurses from France who just so happened to be in Birmingham currently, or to ask a hospital. 

Tommy followed their advice and set off to the nearest hospital, only earning back a bit of information. But a bit was more than plenty to Tommy, at least in this situation.

Soon enough, he ended up far away from Birmingham, at the doorstep of a man named Henry Bennett. He didn’t know why but if it got Y/n one step closer into his arms, he was willing to do anything. Maybe it was her father? Or brother? Maybe a friend? He was so deep in thought that he didn’t notice the door swing open and an agitated looking man lean against the door frame.

The man, who Tommy assumed was Henry, cleared his throat. “What do you want?”

“To ask you some questions.”

The man chuckled mockingly, “about what?”

“Well, do you know anyone by the name of Y/n/n?” Tommy quirked a brow when the man froze and widened his eyes after hearing the name. He glared at Tommy and readjusted his position to a more intimating stance- failing miserably at scaring the raven haired Shelby.

“Yeah. What of her?”

John stepped up from behind Tommy, “mind if we come inside, eh?”

“Personally, I’d prefer you didn’t, but seeing as the conversation’s topic is of importance,” He moved backwards and kicked the door open harshly with his boot, “come on in.”

The three brothers stepped inside the house, looking around and taking in the place. It smelled strongly of alcohol and cigars. They sat down on the sofa and waited for the man to sit in the chair next to it.

“What’d you say your boys’ names were again?” He groaned as he sat down, moving a bit to get comfortable.

“We didn’t. However, I believe I know yours. Henry, is it? Henry Bennett?”

The man, now confirmed as Henry, nodded his head and lit a cigarette, putting the fag between his lips. “That’s me.” Henry breathed out the smoke before moving the stick back to his mouth, stopping only to ask a question. “How’d you know that though?”

“We have our sources. Now, back to Y/n/n?” Tommy was eager to learn more- whatever he could about the woman he was so whipped for. He would take anything he could get, let it be another address, name, number, meal, anything that could possibly be of any help to his search. “What do you know about her?”

“I could be askin’ you the same thing. Bloody Peaky Blinder goin’ after my girl.”

Arthur and John froze in place, like Henry did earlier, and slowly turned to Tommy. Their faces held confusion and slight worry, Tommy, much to their dismay, returning a similar look, mixed with a tint of jealousy. Arthur tried his go at the maker of their clueless emotions. “How-”

“You think I wouldn’t notice you lot? I don’t know your names, nor do I give two fucks, I don’t know if the rumors are true, again, I don’t really care, and my lack of knowledge for the two subjects do not matter to me.” He got up, walking to the fireplace and grabbing a shot glass from beside it, “plus, the hats really gave you away. I was warned ‘bout those.”

“Where are you from, Mr. Bennett?”

“Here in the United Kingdom actually. But I went to France after the war. And before you ask, no I did not fight in it. Frankly, I don’t care about that shit either.” 

John chuckled quietly at Henry’s response, a chuckle of bitter amusement. Purely disgust of the man. Tommy shared the same feeling, whispering “coward” under his breath.

Arthur continued questioning Henry, “Then why did you go to France?”

“Same reason your glare-y friend here came to my home.” Arthur raised his left eyebrow. “Y/n.”

John and Arthur looked over to their brother, communicating with their eyes to wordlessly see if he was alright. His jaw was clenched and his fist tightened. He couldn’t have been- was Tommy too late? Y/n promised herself to him, why was Henry saying, or rather hinting, that they were an item? Had she forgotten about him? Had she lost hope?

“What’s going on? Between you two? Are you childhood friend’s or somethin’?”

“Actually, we’re lovers. Engaged, to be married in three months time. Why else would I go to see her in France? I had to ‘confess my undying love’ one way or another.” 

Arthur, being the eldest of four, knew when someone was talking just to piss another person off, and this was definitely one of those times. Whether what he said was true or not, he was running his mouth to spite Tommy. “Okay, then wh-”

A door creaked open, causing Arthur to stop in the middle of his sentence, all four men going silent and waiting for the cause of the nose to reveal itself. Soft padded thumps sounded in the hall, stopping next to the entrance of the living room door, the door pushed open to reveal a woman with a blanket draped over the parts of her body that weren’t covered by her night-gown.

“Henry? You have guests?”

Tommy’s eyes shifted from the woman to Henry. He noticed how he tensed up and was quick to dismiss her. “Go, I’ll uh- I’ll be there in a moment.” He turned back to the ashtray next to him, putting out the cigarette. Henry waited a couple seconds before facing her again, “I said go. Get. Out. Now.”

She flinched slightly and backed up like she was the prey to his predator. Tommy swore he could see the fear flash through her eyes. She looked familiar...

The female still hadn’t left the room, cowering even farther into the corner, if that was possible, when Henry jumped up from his seat. “I said get in the fucking room!”

Arthur jumped up from the couch. “Hey! You don’t fuckin’ yell at her like that! I don’t give a fuck if she’s a relative, some woman you’re cheating on Y/n/n with, or really who she is at all. Don’t fucking yell at her!”

Tommy looked at her again, his eyes following hers as they widened with fear and shock. “You don’t get to tell me what to fucking do in my fucking house, got that, Peaky Blinder?”

“Henry-” Her hand reached out his arm in attempt to calm him, the attempt working to no avail as he grabbed her wrist and pulled her closer to him despite her small whimpers; “Henry, stop- you-you’re hurting me-”

“No! I’ve had enough from you too!” He pushed her to the ground. Probably one of his biggest mistakes, action wise, to commit in front of the Shelby boys. The blanket fell off her body, making the hidden marks and bruises visible to everyone in the room.

Her identity clicked into place. Tommy knew exactly who she was. “What the fuck have you done to her?!” He stomped over to Henry, connecting his fist with his jaw before he could respond. “You bastard!”

Henry spat out blood, coming back up with a punch of his own that hardly affected Tom. “Get the fuck out of my house.” He stepped in front of Y/n, blocking her from Tommy’s sight. “Now!”

As much as Tommy wanted to charge at Henry, tackle him to the ground and beat him until he was six feet under, he knew it wasn’t the time. John tugged on his arm, nodding towards the door.

“Let Y/n come with us-”

“No. You’ll stay the fuck away from my fiancé!”

Henry pulled a gun from the side of his pants, pointing it at the men as Tommy repeated himself. “Let-”

“I said no! Get out of my house before I blow your bloody brains out!”

Tommy ignored Henry’s rage, walking to the door with one last look in Y/n’s direction, “We’ll be back for you Y/n/n, I promise.”

“Tommy!? No, he’ll kill y-” the rest of her sentence was muffled, a hand covering her mouth, succeeding at blocking her words but failing to block out her loud cries accompanied by tears. 

Tears that matched the ones falling from Tommy’s ocean eyes as he tried his hardest not to look behind him, in fear that he’d never be able to bring himself to leave.

. . .

Not even a full month had passed, and Tommy stayed true to both promises. He broke into Bennett’s house after learning his schedule. Y/n was forced to stay home and only leave the house with him, likely thanks to Tommy, but it was still a problem, especially if it was already a thing.

Why would she marry him? Why would she accept? Tommy wondered why Y/n was committing to that toxic relationship. The bruises on her once clear and stunning skin were burned into his brain like the war.

This was the war.

His war.

And he was going to win it again.

He quietly walked through the halls, inspecting each room with his gun in hand. Where cold she be? If there was ever a time in Tommy’s life when he prayed so hard he was about to cry, he was 100% sure this was that time. 

A small creak came from under his foot, followed by a feminine sounding squeal. Rushed footsteps were heard from a door on his right, disappearing into silence. That silence was sliced with a sharp squeak of a bed, as if someone had jumped onto it or tried to push their way under it.

“Y/n/n?”

In the room, Y/n hid under Henry and her, unwillingly, shared bed. Her breath matched her heartbeat, uneven and faster than the horse races. Her nickname was spoken from a familiar voice, coming from the other side of the door. The nickname was never spoken again after the war. Henry disliked it and refused to call her by it, as well as told everyone they knew that she hated it.

The door handle twisted a couple times before the door pulled open. “Tommy? You came back?” He nodded. “I- Henry’s gonna murder you, ya know that?”

“...Why?”

“Pardon?”

Thomas looked away, wiping his sweaty palms on his trousers. “Why do you stay with him?”

“Tom...I don’t really have much of a choice. He’d hurt me if I left and it’d hurt my mum if I left. Either way, I can’t get out of this.” Tommy looked back to her, his eyes bulging. “You have to leave. He could be ba- mmpf!”

Tommy’s hands cupped her cheeks, making sure to be gentle with her weakened body. She didn’t finish her sentence or argue, instead, she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him closer.

After they broke the kiss, Tommy pulled Y/n into his chest. “I thought I’d lost you forever.”

“I thought that too...” Y/n drawled, tears threatening to spill.

Tommy wiped away the watery threats and smiled lovingly at her, “run away with me.”

“What?”

“Right now. Let’s go back to Birmingham, you can live with my family and I, we can break the news to your mother whenever you’d like.”

“Tommy...” She thought for a few seconds, Tommy’s smile broke into a frown, his nerves mixing with anticipation. Y/n looked back up to meet his eyes, finally breaking on a decision. “Is there anything I need to grab before we go?”

[thiswasinevitableid]

Furies (Mermay OT4)

Request from @angellioncosplay, fill is NSFW

The jagged edge of the harpoon slices into his tail. 

Barclay knows he’s doomed but he thrashes and tries to dive all the same. He doesn’t know what the boar above wants, doesn’t care, he just wants to go home, he has to make it back to them, please, all he wants is to see them again. 

A second barb pierces his side, blood clouds his vision. 

In the darkness below, he thinks he sees two red lights racing closer. Then the harpooners tug, and the world snaps to black.

--------------------------------------

“Is he stable?” Duck whispers as Aubrey swims out of Barclay’s bedroom, shutting the door behind her. 

“Yeah. I’m glad Indrid warned us when he did; if he’d lost much more blood, I’m not sure even my powers coulda helped.”

“And Joe and ‘Drid?”

“They’re gonna stay with him. I think they’re okay but, well” she sighs, shakes her head, “if that’d happened to Dani, I don’t think anything could make me leave her side.” She loops their arms together as they swim to the door, “do you wanna come stay with us? I know this is hard on them, but you had to, like, break a harpoon in half while one of your friends almost died.”

“Nah, oughta stay in case any of ‘em need somethin.”

“You want to keep Dr. Harris Bonkers for extra support?” She holds out her sea bunny.

Duck rubs it’s back, “I’ll be okay, but thanks for the offer Lady Flame. You get home safe now.”

“I will. Oh” She turns, swimming backwards as she adds, “if he needs any more healing between now and tomorrow, come get me right away!”

He promises he will, locks the house up for the night and floats into the kitchen to put it back in some kind of order. Indrid’s sketch pad and enchanted pen are still on the floor where he dropped them, Joseph’s book and Duck’s half-built model ship knocked sideways from the seer pushing away from the table in a flurry of silver and panic. And on the counter are the ingredients Barclay’d set out for dinner, the ones he was checking off when he realized he needed scallops and swam off with a promise to be right back. 

Duck sighs, jumps when something whaps at the green-glass window. 

“Jesus Winnie, thought you were in the bedroom.” He cracks the window enough to lift the octopus inside. See slowly slides off his arm, swimming across the floor to the pile of salvaged ship instruments Duck and Indrid found for her. 

“Maybe this will keep her from stealing the silverware.” Barclay plucks a knife from the cephalopods tentacle. 

Suddenly, he’s too heavy to swim. They almost lost him. 

It’s simple, really. Duck is in love with Joe and Indrid. Joe and Indrid are in love with Barclay. But that doesn’t mean Duck doesn’t love the other mer; Barclay is one of his best friends, a sympathetic ear when things go south and the only one of the four of them capable of beating Joe at Ten Shells. Barclay also understands something about Duck that escapes many of their kind; that he can love Joe, curious and meticulous from his black hair to his dapper monochrome tail, and Indrid, strange and aloof until you gave him the right kind of stroke on his silver scales, with the same intensity. It just manifests in different ways. 

Duck cracks the bedroom door open, finds the wounded mer on his back in their large, seaweed colored bed. Indrid and Joe are nestled on either side of him. Normally, they’d be an undignified, loving pile, but the bandages on his stomach and tail prevent it. 

Indrid stirs, trilling in distress. His nightmares come and go, are most often the echos of horrible futures he was forced to watch over and over. Duck has a pretty good guess as the which one is playing in his mind tonight. 

He wiggles down onto the bed, draping his arm over Indrid’s side and guiding his bony back and red fin against his chest. When Indrid registers his weight, the nervous twitches of his tail stop. Duck glances up, watches Barclay’s hand glide down the bed to hold Indrid’s own. 

Someone almost took this from them. Almost ripped away pieces of the hearts of the mers he loves most in the world. 

And he wants to know who. 

------------------------------------------------------------------

“Dearest, how are you feeling?”

“Fine, totally fine.” Barclay tries to sit up as a demonstration, only for his whole body to convulse. He falls back against the bed, whimpering pathetically. 

“Hmmm, I was afraid that would be the case. There were some timelines where you healed quickly, but it seems the monsters who attacked you did a great deal of damage.”

“No, no, it was just a twinge, if you give me a sec I can-”

“-You will stay in bed.” Indrid’s red gaze sharpens, “no mate of mine is going to re-open his wounds trying to make me breakfast.”

“Besides” Joseph looks up from setting all the med supplies they need in tidy stacks and lines, “it’s not like Duck or I can’t cook. You need to rest, big guy.” He swims over, strokes Barclays hair. Barclay leans into the feelings, trying to ignore the fear gnawing a new hole in his side. 

In the three days since the attack, he hasn’t been alone. His boyfriends and friend take turns sitting with him, talking when he wants to and letting him sleep when he needs, bringing him food and changing his bandages without complaint. 

It’s all wrong. That’s not their job. It shouldn’t be, that’s what they have him for. Some part of him wishes they’d been too late. Because he doesn’t want to face what’s coming. 

------------------------------------------------

“Any luck?” 

“Some. Juno says she saw an unfamiliar hull pass by about an hour before Barclay got attacked, but she wasn’t close enough to see any details.”

“Damn it.” Joseph slams the book one human weapons in frustration, then cringes at his outburst. 

Duck swims to him, pulling him up from the chair into an embrace, “We’ll figure it out, slick. Nothin else, happen to know we got a real smart mer workin the case.” He winks, kisses Joseph on the cheek. 

He snorts, then looks at the floor, “Some part of me is worried about what will happen if we do figure out who hurt him. I...I don’t believe in violence outside of dire circumstances, but they, they nearly killed him. I’d like to say my motive in seeking them out is to make sure they can’t hurt anyone else but, well, that’s secondary at best. What I want is to make them pay.”

“That makes two of us” Indrid slithers in the door, “he’s sound asleep, not to worry. I have narrowed down our potential culprits with my visions, but I too am afraid of what I may do if I locate the humans who dared harm him.”

“I get the feelin, but right now we’re mostly borrowin trouble. Let’s wait until we know a little more before decidin whether to track ‘em down.”

Joseph nods, opens his mouth to suggest one of them retrieve dinner from the fishmonger down the block, when there’s a crash from the kitchen. 

“Damn, Winnie must’ve gotten into the cabinets again.”

Indrid blinks, then frowns, “No, that is not her doing.”

Rushing into the kitchen reveals Barclay trying to arrange food on the counter. His upper body can barely move, and his tail is unable to maintain direction due to the bandages. 

“Don’t worry about, ow, me” Barclay smiles at them, but Joseph spots panic in his eyes, “th-thought I’d do some meal prep since you’re all gonna be busy this week.”

He’s about to point out that a)they’re all capable of feeding themselves even when busy and b)Barclay’s only been recovering for a week and a half and Aubrey explicitly told him it would be at least a month before he could move around without help.

Before he can make any points at all, Indrid draws himself up to his full height, frills of his ears fanned out and gestures to the bedroom, “You will do no such thing. You need your rest, dearest.”

“But-”

“That was an order, not a request.” It’s a tone that never fails to make Joseph’s spine turn to mush, and by the flash of pink in Barclay’s tail, he feels the same way. Then his whole tail drains of color and he nods. 

“Right. Sorry. I, I didn’t mean to upset you guys.”

Indrid’s frills flatten and he swims swiftly towards the other mer, “Barclay, I’m not-”

“It’s okay. I caused enough trouble already.” He catches Indrid by the chin to kiss him, blows a second kiss Joseph’s way, then disappears into the bedroom. 

As Indrid flicks his tail nervously, Duck clears his throat, “Know I joke about him not havin a selfish bone in his body, but this is startin to get ridiculous.”

The silver-scaled mer sighs, coiling his tail around Joseph’s own and opening his arms so Duck will come give him a hug. When the three of them are close together he murmurs, “ I saw this timeline, but I had so hoped it would not be the one we ended up in. I have mentioned before that the culture Barclay and I grew up in as deep water mers is very different than what you have on the reef. One component of that was the belief that a mer who could not carry his weight in his home would not be in said home for much longer. His mate or mates not only could, but were encouraged to, throw him out to make room for a more useful partner.”

The entirety of Joseph’s stomach crawls up his throat, “He really thinks we’d do that to him?”

“I suspect so.” Indrid rests his head on Duck’s shoulder, “Barclay is already prone to such fears, in that he prides himself on taking care of others. And it is a deeply ingrained message and practice, so much so that there are times I still fear you three may turn me away should my powers disappear.”

“‘Drid-”

The mer purrs reassuringly, “But then I remind myself that I am not down there. I am up here, with you who love me regardless of my strength. Seeing the future helps a great deal as well; I can peek and see there are no timelines where you turn me away. Hmm” his tail taps Sterns lower back, “I wonder, is there a way we can mimic that experience for Barclay? Help him see his future here?”

Joseph gets an idea and, for the first time all day, the sense that he’s getting somewhere, “I have a plan.”

----------------------------------------------------------------

Barclay isn’t sure if this is some cruel joke, or if his boyfriends genuinely believe they won’t grow tired of him needing to be cared for all the time. Regardless, he doesn’t know what to do when Joseph lays beside him, kissing his cheek and shoulder as he talks about how they should go see the Kelpie migration this fall, and how he’s heard about a human beach where they serve a swim-up meal to mers and humans alike, and wouldn’t it be nice for all four of them to visit and try the food?

He doesn’t know what to do when Indrid gently sits him upright and combs his hair, jumping from topic to topic between kisses to the back of his neck but always returning to what they should do for Joseph’s birthday, or Dani and Aubrey’s anniversary, or their own anniversary.

He doesn’t know what to do right now, Indrid sitting and drawing while Joseph finishes changing the bandages on his tail. The one on his side came off a few days ago, scar tissue forming a jagged tooth of pink and white in his skin. 

Duck swims in, greeting them all at once, his usually friendly expression somber. 

“Joe, ‘Drid, could I talk to you in the kitchen? It’ll only be a minute.”

His boyfriends nod, assuring him they’ll be back even as they swim away. He wishes he could believe it, but he can think of only one reason Duck would need to talk to them alone. With a sad little groan, he rolls onto his uninjured side and pities himself to sleep. 

-----------------------------------------------------

“You’re sure that’s the one?”

“Positive. Minerva had a near miss with it this mornin, described the exact same thing Barclay did. Speakin of which, we know they’re down a few harpoons because the ones they sent after her she threw right back at them.”

“A fair response if ever there was one. Do we all agree on the plan?”

“Yep”

“Yes.”

“Good” A smile that could make a sea monster afraid, “then let us begin.”

----------------------------------------------------------------

Winthrop lounges on the deck of the Nemo as his guests and the hired guides mill around the edges of the boat. After that run-in with the mermaid earlier today, they’re on pins and needles, hoping to see and (finally) catch another. 

Is poaching in a protected cove illegal? Only if you don’t have the money to pay the fine. Is it wrong to hunt the rare creatures that call this stretch of ocean home? Wrong is a deeply subjective concept. 

Warmth leaves the deck as clouds swirl above the sun. 

“I say, wasn’t it sunny a moment ago?”

“Yep. Could be again, provided y’all head to shore and never come back here.” A voice calls from the bow. 

Everyone races forward, shouting in excitement when they discover the merman addressing them with an oddly calm expression.

“Don’t even think about tryin to spear me. You ain’t the only ones with weapons.”

A second mer surfaces, armed with a spear gun he clearly knows how to use. 

“Joe’s a damn good shot.”

The other mer fixes them with a steely gaze, “This is your last warning. Leave this cove and never try to hunt here again.”

“Or what?”

The whole boar rocks as something massive bumps the underside. Screams draw his attention to the silver, serpentine shape gliding through the water. A red fin breaks the surface and then it’s gone. 

Then the boat nearly capsizes as it rams the port side. In the darkening waves, the monster turns it’s head to look up at them. It’s red eye is the size of a steering wheel, but he forgets all about that when the creature rears up, jaws snapping, and narrowly misses dragging his wife off the boat between butcher-knife teeth. 

“Our friend here is mighty angry with you” the first merman rubs the monster's fin as it swims by him, “in fact, he’s downright furious.”

“And it looks like he’s decided to build up some speed before hitting you this time. I don’t think your boat will survive that amount of force.”

“Alright, alright we’ll leave, we’ll go and never come back.”

A hissing screech from the monster. 

“We swear!” He says, really meaning it this time. 

The first merman points towards shore, “then get goin’.”

The boat speeds away, and Winthrop decides to never, ever look back. 

-------------------------------------------

“That was fuckin incredible darlin’”

“Thank you” Indrid returns to his usual form, groggy but pleased, “you were both wonderful as well.”

“Never been happier that you’re so into workin out how human machines operate” Duck kisses Joseph hard, one of Indrid’s favorite sights in the whole of the sea.

 “If you like how I handle a spear gun, you should see how I handle, um, other things.”

“I am” Indrid yawns, “in favor of that idea. But first, I believe I am due for a nap, and Barclay is due for an update.”

-----------------------------------------------------------------

“You did all that for me?” Barclay twists his fingers in the blanket beneath him, trying to sound pleasantly surprised instead of confused. From the look Joseph and Duck trade, he’s doing a shit job. 

“Well, technically we also did it to keep the reef safe from hunters, and hopefully start a legend that will keep any like-minded poachers from coming within fifty miles of our home. Or our family. And yes, dearest, that includes you.” In the darkened bedroom, deep purple shimmers up Indrid’s tail. A signal to obey.

“I, I never said it didn’t.”

“Yes, but it has been on your mind for weeks.”

“I…”

“Barclay” Joseph settles beside him, taking his hand, “Indrid told us about what you two were taught about needing care or being helpless. I, we, none of us want you thinking that’s what will happen here. I promise.”

He doesn’t realize he’s crying, not until Indrid whispers “hush now, dear one” and carefully rests their tails together so that the wound is left untouched.

“I, I thought saying it would make it worse. Make you think I needed reassurance, which would just make it clear how useless I am. I, I know that sounds ridiculous.”

“It’s not ridiculous to feel vulnerable or scared after something traumatic.” Joseph traces his fingers up and down his arm and his scales ripple in reply. 

“Nor to feel off-balance when you are unable to do what you usually do.”

“But you gotta tell us next time.” Duck rests next to Joseph, “we care about you, all three of us, but we can’t help if we don’t know what’s wrong.”

He flashes apologetic yellow, “You’re right. I’ll, I’m gonna try to be better about that. It’s just hard for me to let other mers take care of me sometimes.”

The purple returns to Indrid’s tail, and when he turns to look at Barclay his smile is no longer gentle and ethereal. It’s almost tangible enough to slice his chest and send everything he wants pouring onto the bed. 

“It seems to me, my dear one, that you could use some practice in that area.”

“Yes” he murmurs, then yips when Indrid bites his throat, “I mean yes, sir.”

“Much better. After all, your convalescence has made such things difficult until now. And yes, Joseph, I will keep an eye on the futures to be certain no one is hurt. Speaking of which: Duck, please adjust so Barclay’s head is in your lap. You’ll need to hold his shoulders down should he try and disobey me.”

A shift of the bed and then his head rests on mottled green scales. 

“Hey” He smiles up and Duck sends a crooked grin his way, setting more pink off in his tail. He may not want to fuck him, but Barclay’s not about to deny how handsome Duck can be.

This rumination distracts him from Indrid and Joseph’s conversation, so he’s pleasantly surprised when the black-tailed mer catches his lips in a kiss. It’s precise, down with calculated care that always makes him feel like the most interesting, important thing in the world. 

“That’s it big guy, relax for us.”

“I’, I’m tryINGfuck, it’s, it’s kinda hard when Indrid is doing that.”

Indrid chuckles, continues teasing the scales in his upper tail, “Shall I stop?”

“No, please no-”

“Please what?” His slit opens at the steel in Indrid’s voice. 

“Please sir.”

“Good boy. Ah, and here’s that lovely cock of yours. What shall I do with it, hmmm?”

“Anything you want sir.” He tries not to giggle as Joseph nibbles his ear.

“I was not asking you.” Indrid cocks his head at Duck.

“Huh” Duck toys with Barclays hair, “think I wanna see you suck it. Been too damn long since you had a dick in your mouth that wasn’t mine.”

Indrid licks his lips and then Barclay’s moans fill the bedroom as his boyfriend lovingly sucks the head of his cock. 

“Is now the time to mention he sucked me off yesterday while you were at work?” Joseph smiles up at Duck, though his hand is busy teasing Barclay’s nipples. 

Duck growls, “and you didn’t even give an encore where I could watch. Mighty rude of you. Both of you.”

“Don’t blame me” Indrid jerks Barclay off with one hand and fingers his slit with the other, “you know how needy our pet gets.”

“True. Guess I’ll have to put him in his place.” Duck looks down at Barclay, gaze soft in spite of his tone, “not tonight though. Tonight his job is to take care of you.”

“Speaking of which” Joseph turns his face into another kiss just as Indrid’s mouth envelopes his cock once again. He moans and whimpers between those perfect lips, a month of not even being able to touch himself meaning his body is already being dragged towards orgasm. His hand finds Joseph’s tail, petting it enticingly. 

“If you AHnnnfuck, lay perpendicular babe, I can suck you off without hurting myself.”

Joseph glances at Indrid, who pulls off of Barclay’s cock and shakes his head, “Not tonight, dearest.”

He whimpers, tries to lift his head, use his tongue to tease Joseph’s retreating tail, only or Duck to hold him firmly in place. 

“I know, sweet one, you do so love being inside our pet, whether with that talented tongue, those skillful hands, or this sinful thing.” He gives a final jerk, then uses his tail to guide Joseph into his former position, “And I would never deny you that pleasure. He’s such a good little pet after all.” He kisses Joseph posessively, then glides behind him and sets his hands on his waist, “which is why I am going to fuck him on you. I will control his movements, so as to avoid aggravating your injury.”

“And because you get off on it.” Duck adds.

“That too.”

“AHfuck!” Barclay’s whole tail lights up purple for an instant as Indrid shoves Joseph down onto his cock. He might submit to Indrid, but Joseph is the mer in the sea he most wants to claim, to fuck until he’s begging for more.

“Nghnshit, shit that’s so good big guy, fuck I missed this.”

“Ahem.” 

“Thank you Indridoh, ohohohohfuck.” Joseph’s hands scrabble on Barclay’s tail as Indrid bounces him up and down. He looks so handsome like this, cock hard and slit swallowing Barclay to the hilt, dark hair loose and framing his head like a crown. 

Barclay reaches for him, desperate for a touch, but Duck holds him down.

“Thank you, love, if he had moved just then he would have hurt himself.”

“Don’t care” Barclay growlwhines, “Joseph, babe, wanna touch you so bad.”

“You’ll get to, big guy, there’ll be plenty of chances after this.”

He growls, teeth clenched as the riptide of his orgasm pulls at him. 

“It’s okay big fella, you can let go. We’ve got you.” Duck’s voice, as soothing as the hand he scritches down his scalp. 

“Fuck” is all he gets out before Indrid pushes Joseph down and Barclay spurts up into him with moan. 

“Better, big guy?” Joseph’s smile is as dazzling as ever. 

“Uh huh.” His bones are mud, his eyes heavy, and he feels better than he has all month. 

“Good. Come, let me look you over and hold you. Duck and Joseph will join us shortly.”

“But I thoughtAHfuck” is all he hears before the sound of Duck frantically fucking Joseph fills one half of the room, his boyfriends moan switching from charming to mouthwatering as Duck keeps fucking him after he’s cum. 

Indrid builds them a nest on the other side of the bed, guides him into it to comb his hair and rub his aching shoulders, humming as he does. Eventually, Duck swims over to join them, Joseph more floating than swimming in his embrace. 

“How do you feel, big guy?”

“Good. Really, really good.” He closes his eyes, safe in the knowledge that his home and family will still be his when he wakes up.

Then he opens them again.

“Wait, so what the fuck did you actually do to the guy who harpooned me?”

[archived-gtronpa-account]

So what if for a motive instead of kokichi being a giant he’s shrunk and stuck with shuichi :0! ( like continuing off of the other motive writing you did -)

hiii I'm glad for this req I was hoping someone would catch my drift and ask for a sequel since I had an idea for it in mind 💃 altho I took a wittle little bit of liberty with your req I hope you don't mind

(again terribly sorry for the delay friend I hardly had any time for this hope you'll enjoy either way)

___

Word count: 1800

Summary: The game master has a new dirty trick up their sleeve to get rid of a certain little liar; but Kokichi isn't going down so easily, even with the threat of now death waiting for him at every corner.

___

It seemed the mastermind wasn’t too pleased when the motive hadn’t gotten him murdering and executed, so their next plan was to get him directly murdered.

Kokichi stands in Monokuma’s shadow, expression blank in face of the bear’s cruel cackles. It's a wonder how the mastermind can see him as a threat when he hasn't been able to stop any of the past murders, but he's still flattered that he's managed to mess with their plans enough that they'd stoop to such a low motive.

When the monochromatic bear leaves, Kokichi is left silently staring at the rest of his classmates from his spot on the cafeteria table, standing at the miserable height of a toy. Any other day, jokes and taunts and lies would be flowing out of his mouth, but his mind doesn’t come up with anything when he’s surrounded by classmates who he knows are already thinking of killing him and hiding his body to avoid a class trial; the same classmates whom he could hold in the palm of his hand only yesterday.

Silent and unmoving as he is, they must think him a scared little child; Kokichi Ouma, supreme leader of evil, reduced to some cute joke, some fanservice for an audience to coo at before he inevitably dies. The thought of the mastermind looking down on him and laughing to themselves at the moment is near sickening.

Kiibo is first to speak up, “So… What should we do about this?”

“I say,” Maki’s reply is instantaneous, like she’d been waiting to say those next words for too long, “We end this killing game right here and now.”

And when she takes a swift step forward, red eyes piercing through his tiny form with a murderous intent he’s seen too many times already, Kokichi can’t do anything but resign himself to the fact that he won’t live to stop the killing game.

Then something darts in front of him and blocks his view, and he thinks he somehow must’ve dreamed the words, “Maki, don’t hurt him.”

It takes his paranoid brain longer than he’d like to admit to realize that the hand in front of him isn’t coming to grab him and squeeze his guts out, rather, it’s shielding him. A gesture he wouldn’t expect coming from anyone in this room, except-

“You can't fall for the mastermind's trick so easily.” Shuichi stands towering in front of him in a protective stance, like some knight in shining armor; and to think this is the same boy who was cowering in his presence only days ago.

"Yeah! Harumaki, you promised, remember?" Kaito, the actual knight in shining armor of the academy, doesn't come to protect him; instead, he steps up to Maki and places a hand on her shoulder. Of course, when killer girl is trying to kill poor lil' Kokichi, it's still her who needs help and support and not the doll-sized villainous boy about to be murdered. "This has gotta be a trap or somethin'."

"Right," Shuichi joins in. He briefly glances over his shoulder at Kokichi, and the now tiny boy meets his gaze with the same blank expression. "Think about it, doesn't this new motive seem more like a way to…" his gaze lingers on Kokichi's small form for a second longer, before he tears it away, "… to get rid of a specific classmate?"

"Yeah," Kaito chimes in, "I'm starting to think the mastermind wants Kokichi dead for whatever reason," The grave expression on his face matches the morbidity of his statement. He slams his fists together in determination, "We can't let that happen."

"I do agree," Kiibo pipes up, "That if Kokichi was the enemy hiding among us, it wouldn't make sense to put himself in such… disadvantageous situation," he's hesitant and careful with his choice of word, like he could somehow be tiny-phobic.

"You're all overthinking this too much," Maki's cold gaze falls back on him, and if looks could kill, a body discovery announcement would have played out, "The killing game stops when the mastermind is dead. Simple as that."

The pressure of her stare threatens to crush him. Kokichi's legs nearly give out under his weight, and his first reaction is to stumble a few steps back and plaster a grin on his face.

“Pish posh, poor Harumaki… wants to kill me so badly, she's ready to do it in front of everyone,” His voice nearly wavers, he takes another step back for good measure. No use in trying to reason with an assassin or try to gain anyone’s sympathy; it’s always easier to stick to the role he’s written himself into.

Kokichi speaking for the first time seems to trigger the whole cafeteria to erupt in a cacophony again. Maki tries to push past Kaito and Shuichi to get her grubby hands on the little leader, and the two boys defend him (at least he thinks they do); someone yawns and someone else gasps and exclamations and accusations are thrown around.

"There has to be more to this motive!"

"You're protecting him over a maybe?"

"This is terrible, we shouldn't fight!"

"Nyeh… we still haven't had breakfast…"

They argue and bicker, like they always do when a new motive is presented and they don’t know what to make of it. Kokichi finds it easy enough to block out the obnoxious voices. He lets cold logic take over his mind and shadow his fear as he assesses the situation.

Even if he refuses, they'll probably force him to be baby-sat by someone. Staying with Maki or Miu is out of the question. Kiibo would be a good choice if Kokichi wanted the eyes of the mastermind and the audience on his back at all time, and Himiko would be a good choice if he wanted all the protection of a bodyguard who doesn't tolerate him and sleeps most of the time.

Gonta does tolerate him and has already worked with him in the past; he wouldn't be a bad choice, but for now Kokichi has a feeling he'll end up sleeping in a bug case with cockroaches if he goes with the giant entomologist, so he'll pass. Kaito superman-wannabe-Momota wouldn't be so bad either, but he'll probably take advantage of the situation and try to get the tiny boy to open up about his super evil dark past or whatever; so again, he'll pass for now.

And then there's Shuichi… Staying with his beloved detective, they could stay up late at night and braid each other's hair and share their secrets, they could make plans together and explore the school and beat the mastermind like some iconic duo, they could even pick that night's game of chess back up since Kokichi still remembered the setting of the board. Staying with Shuichi, truely a dream come true, and a dream right in his reach. But he wasn't in dreamland, he was stuck in a killing game hell where he couldn't let his facade slip and show vulnerability so easily to the protagonist of their game. His eyes fall to the floor with the shame of entertaining such a dream before remembering the sobering reality. Staying with Shuichi is out the question.

Kokichi goes back to listening to the conversarion, but he finds the room silent and eight pairs of eyes on him.

“Kokichi,” Shuichi speaks again. The boy is tempted to look away, but he forces his eyes to meet the giant detective's faded gold ones, “you can stay with me if you want?"

A taunting smirk pushes its way to his face. “Man, Saihara wants to get a hold of me so he can do all kindsa weird stuff to me? Ew ew ew, so gross, I'm so terrified! How could you do this to a frightened little boy?”

“Kokichi,” he considers the exasperation in the detective’s tone a victory to him, although an unpleasant one, “You don’t need to be so obnoxious, if there’s someone you want to stay with, you can say it.” Sheesh, wasn't Shuichi dying to talk to him the other night?

His best option isn’t ideal, but he can't get too picky in his current situation. “Welll, I think I’d like to stay with big sis Shirogane!” he hears the girl in question sputter a noise of surprise, and all eyes turn to her.

“What are you planning?” Maki speaks again after a long silence, voice betraying her skepticism.

“Oh, are you jealous I didn’t pick you, big sis Harumaki?” Do you want to die?

“Do you want to die?” Bingo. Too predictable.

“Uhm,” Tsumugi’s meek voice cuts him off before he can retort, “Why me? I-I mean, I don’t mind, I just don’t understand?”

Kokichi turns to her, and she nearly flinches at his attention. At least there’s one person in the room who’s still intimidated by him. “I just wanted to stay with my absolute favourite girl in this academy," as he says that, he walks around Shuichi's still outstretched hand to better face the absolute favourite girl in question, shooting on his way a quick glance up the detective, "aaand there's also this one cosplay I really wanna try now that I'm cutie-sized. That is, if Shirogane is fine with it?"

Tsumugi looks down to her feet and starts to vibrate with excitement hard enough that he can feel it under his feet. "O-Oh, I am fine with it. I wonder if we're both thinking of the same anime… but the only male character there has a dark skin tone, and there's one girl that really looks like you… You don't mind wearing a dress, do you?" She's already walking up to him with an outstretched hand, as if driven by the by the force of her love of cosplay.

Kokichi blinks his fear away and steps into the unsteady surface, immediately understanding the fear and discomfort in Shuichi's face that last night. Questions and accusations are still coming at him left and right, but he pointedly ignores it all and waves back to his remaining classmates with his cockiest smile as he leaves in the giant girl's hand, mind already buzzing with plans to survive the new motive.

___

hope you don't mind the bit of saiou angst twist thing in the end 😔😔 I was too tempted to resist. Well hope u enjoyed dear !!

[og-danny-dorito]

Hellboy Headcanons

it's MY blog and I get to choose the hyperfixation (also it’s yearning hours)

S F W :

- big man big man big man big man big man b

- i love big man v much, and let me tell u smthn it's not for no reason

- so, let's just get a few things straight, the dude is canonically 7 feet tall, meaning that he towers over pretty much anyone. on top of that's he's got horns, a tail, a big ass rock hand thing, and on top of it all a fiery temper. at this you may be asking yourself “danny, if the man hasn't like no redeemable qualities why do you like him so much?” unless you're here because you ALSO like him and know he has a lot of them. let me explain

- so let me start off with some simple facts; he LOVES cats. he loves cats so much so that he actually has a fuckton of them, as seen in the first and second movies (not the one directed by david harbor because i'm not even going to look in that general direction)

- in fact, he loves cats so much that he probably wants to go to a cat café. the issue is that his hulking figure would probably scare away any other patrons at the cafés, so sadly he can't go. as an alternative he just has a whole lot of cats. a lot of the time he'll find himself taking pity on the cats on the street and thus leaving out cans of tuna or cat food in places he might frequent

- he also has a pajama set with cats printed on them but NEVER tell him that it's cute or he may not make eye contact with you for a week

- ah, on that subject matter, he actually gets flustered pretty easily. the only issue is that it's not easy to tell when he does, and when he allows himself to feel like that. it's usually when he's sitting in his room and not really thinking about much of anything (aka: relaxed)

- you can tell by how his face somehow turns a slightly darker shade of red, and the frown and gruff grunt he gives as a response imply an almost evasive nature. he doesn't get how you can say something so innocent about him of all people, but regardless it makes him feel a little bit a somethin

- i know he LOOKS like he will crush your skull, but he's a huge softie. yeah, he comes back to the BPRD base looking like he just fought god bare handed and butt ass naked, but that doesn't mean he's a huge meanie. in FACT, if he really does like you that much he's probably going to treat you like the exact opposite of his stereotype

- he tends to be attracted to anyone who can make him laugh, which is pretty easy considering his biggest weakness is puns. yes, you read that correctly, puns

- catch this dude loosing his shit because you walked in to his room, saw his cats piled up on his torso to absorb his body heat, and said “Wow, looks like you've got a MEOWntain on you, Red.” seriously he won't be able to breathe for a good few seconds

- his laugh is pretty hearty and rumbles in his chest like a washing machine on spin cycle, ending with a dry heave. if you've cracked him up that much he will snort. tiny little piggy snort. and then deny it directly afterwards like a big baby

- he himself is a pretty funny dude, the only issue is that he's selectively funny. usually when he's relaxed and just chillin out he finds himself cracking more jokes than he normally would. making someone he likes laugh motivates him to make more jokes, especially if their laughter is contagious. seriously, he's weak against funny laughs he can't MAKE himself NOT laugh if you sound like a dying horse when you laugh

- he's also pretty affected by other people’s moods even though like 90% of the time he feels shitty. if you're in a good mood then he can't help but feel a little bit better. the positiivty is contagious and not even hellboy can resist it

- thus why he can't for the life of him resist any ounce of cuteness or innocence or impenetrable positivity. like, he just can't help but feel the immediate need to protect

- yeah he likes goth chicks (have you SEEN liz) but have you ever walked around with a literal ray of sunshine glued to your hip? cause big man can't handle the amount of joy it brings him to have someone so happy all the time next to him. it just,,, makes him weak

- that and he's a huge dummy for anyone who's smaller than average but also tends to be fiery and hotheaded like him

- like he doesn't even have a “type” appearance wise but catch him falling head over heels for a positive, firey, and outright goofy person to match his dry and dull attitude towards most things

- he tries to act like he's above it, but the man likes cute stuff. even when he gets caught red-handed petting a litter of kittens he'll just be like “what? never seen a demon before?” and continue with his activities

- if you do end up being his s/o you may very well be the person who has to take care of his wounds because he barely trusts anyone in the med bay to take care of him without trying to experiment or take weird samples without his knowing. that said, he really hates going to the doctor

- you'd be susprized how uncomfortable it makes him, really. so you're probably the one to actually make sure he doesn't fucking die

- it's rare he'll come from work unscathed. in fact, a good portion of the time there's a new scar to add to the count. when asked he'll play it off with some dry humor, barely addressing the fact that his muscles ache like hell and his joints are killing him. you'll have to pressure him into letting you take care of him, which results in a pout and grumbles of protest as he removes his shirt. if he has any injuries near his thighs he'll probably be really hesitant to let you take care of them until you've been with each other for like a month or so

- that and he lowkey would die of embarrassment if you were trying to tend to his thigh wounds and just saw how HUNG he is but i'm gonna save that content for possible NSFW headcanons in the future

- mans super gentle with his s/o, like SUPER gentle. he doesn't want to hurt them, honestly, and just leaving a small bruise from getting frisky or play fighting makes him feel like a fucking monster. in fact, it makes his self-esteem issues worse. he might not touch you for a while if you happen to get a particularly bad injury, on or off the field (implying that you work at the BPRD- if you don't he still feels like shit)

- which means that he probably would like some validation if he does start to feel like complete shit. his skin is thick from his experience over the years, but shit still happens and it always will. he's reminded every day that he doesn't deserve you just by seeing your visual differences. he knows he's a danger to you and the people around him, and it makes him want to avoid everyone. but some gentle words of affirmation and kisses all over make him feel 10x better. it isn't hard to get him out of a funk if he knows you love him too much to find disgust in him

- he doesn't seem very affectionate, but once he knows it's okay to touch up on his s/o like it's no tomorrow he will most definitely release all his touch-starved cravings and be attatched to you all the fucking time

- he's pretty much always holding your hand (although his hands are pretty big so he might just resort to having your and in his without linking fingers) or got his arm around you or, his favorite, having you sit in his lap. he tends to be pretty up close and personal with you if you're all about it

- the only real problems i can see with this are personal distaste or maybe the fact that he's a walking space heater. seriously, hellboy is quite literally hot as hell regardless of the environment, and turns his heater up crazy high. he thrives best in the heat and remains pretty much unaffected by all temperatures. he hates the cold because it makes the tips of his tail and ears cold, but that's pretty much all it does

- you could be in a freezer and the most discomfort he'll feel is that his ears are like a little 👌🏼 bit cold

- so yes, space heater, and it's great if you live in heat like he does. sleeping with him means you'll never get cold again, and since he takes up a lot of space in his bed it's very likely that you'll be sleeping on top of him or at least somewhat touching him. so win win for him, obviously

- he also likes to crank the heater up because it causes you to shed more clothes, probably leaving you in a tank top and shorts while a sheen of sweat forms on your skin and your hair sticks to your face. and if that ain't hot, he doesn't know what is (pun intended). he'll put it down if you ask him to though, begrudgingly. he just likes seeing you breathless is all- ow, don't punch his arm like that

- god forbid anyone look at you like that though. you're wearing something mildly revealing? hell no. there are some bad people out there with even worse intentions and he is not letting some asshole look at you like you're a piece of meat at a butcher's shop

- so obviously he's a bit jealous. well, he's actually a lot jealous, but he won't admit it. just like he won't admit that he was about to kill the guy that catcalled you while you were walking down the street. or that he glared down at the person chatting casually to you about your dress. or that he- you get the picture. he's very protective of you and wants everyone else to know, although it may be because of an inherent self-doubt that says you might leave him

- maybe one day you'll see that you've been dating a demon all this time and be horrified and scared of him, leaving him in the dust for good. it's probably best for you, he thinks, but you'd never do that...right?

- regardless, he's protective of you and thus gets jealous easily. one way to tell is that he tends to become somehow even more attached to you with the person in question nearby. if it gets bad enough he'll just scoop you up and leave, no questions asked. maybe for the sake of your pride and protecting your embarrassment he'll make up some excuse, but as soon as you can tell that he's following you around like a lost puppy it's clear to see that something is up

- if he's getting particularly annoyed though or just wants to tease you, he'll slide his tail up your leg and watch you squeak and jump until pretending he did nothing wrong. the only real way to one-up this is to pinch the head of his tail softly and watch him tense up and give you a look of betrayal because he's crazy sensitive there and gets super unscrewed if you mess with him like that

- of course, looking at him innocently and letting him go once he finally retaliates is always entertaining enough to do again. it may even become a competition between you two to see who looses it and gives out the quickest (spoiler: you're probably going to loose if your relationship is sexual- dude knows his way around the human body and WILL use it against you)

- but it's kind of cute how much he craves your attention, considering it seems he'll do anything to get you to stay by him most of the time. he hates being apart from you and hates knowing you could get hurt at the same time, so it's very likely that you'll have protection wherever you go (if you're in his line of work though he may consider making you his partner, but when he brings this up to Abe the fish man automatically is baffled that a person could bring this kind of reaction out of his stoic and dry-humored friend)

- now for my FAVORITE part; Miscellaneous Headcanons :

   he finds it hot as fuck when you wield weapons of any kind. like yeah you might be his soft precious angel and no one is allowed to touch you but him, but seeing you with a weapon of any sort makes him think about things he's guilty to even know to have though

  oh i forgot to add that he's probably pansexual but is more attracted to feminine body types. doesn't mean he won't fuck someone with a dick, but it does mean that he's a big dom and he likes tiny feminine figures so he's more well-rounded and comfortable with women

   calls you pet names all the time, including Doll, Kitten, Darlin, Sweet-cheeks, and maybe a shorter version of your name or a play at one of your defining traits (for instance, if your hair is red he might call you Little Red as a joke cause he's Big Red ahaha size joke funnyyyy). calling him a nickname in turn that isn't one of the usual like Sweetheart or Honey Bunches gets him blushing like he's got a fever. don't mention that to him though, or he'll get even more flustered (or do, your choice)

   tends to be super flirty with you for shits and giggles, but gets a little riled up if you hit him with an equally witty and flirtatious remark. a little bite never hurt anyone, and he enjoys it more than most

   he really likes spicy stuff, and is currently the champion of "The BPRD Fire-Eating Contest" which didn't involve actual fire from hell (opposed to popular belief) but rather various spicy foods from all over the place and even some from different realms. he won when he ate a concoction Abe made that involved multiple peppers that probably would kill a normal human if eaten all at once but just made Hellboy tear up a little bit and have a runny nose. anything else doesn't affect him at all, and thus why he puts insane amounts of hot sauce in food just to get a tiny sting from it

   his love language is physical contact

- and that's all! hellboy is an affectionate dude with a slew of insecurities. under those scars and rough exterior he can't help but feel his whole day brightened when he sees his s/o and/or best bud, regardless of his mood that day. as a goofball at heart and dad of a thousand cats, the guy is really just misunderstood. take a few minutes out of your day to get to know him over a beer or two and maybe you'll even get a new friend till the end of the line. once he likes you though, there's no way you're getting rid of this big teddy bear

[aelysianmuse]

SUMMARY: Canon-divergence post-Purgatory fic where Benny decides to meddle, make Cas feel appreciated and Dean jealous enough for them to pull their heads out of their asses and get together once and for all. AO3 LINK.

On the first morning back from Purgatory, Benny learns that comfort zones are where Dean fails to thrive.

Without any imminent threat to Castiel, Dean is quick to leave addressing him as his ‘angel’ behind. Instead, he slips right back into the authoritative ‘Cas’. Lingering touches shift into brief pats, and intense stare-offs turn into avoidant glances when the other one’s not looking.

Right at the very end, before the three of them had found the portal, the tensions between Dean and Castiel were so high that, if he’d left them alone for longer than ten minutes, Benny had half-expected to return to them fucking in a tent.

How they’d gone from that to this, in just a matter of days, beats him.

Either way, if he’s learned anything about them throughout these past couple of months, it’s that both of them are idiots in love. They’re wasting their time pining for each other, when they could be spending it together. It’s only Dean who seems to engage these in self-sabotaging behaviors, and right when he’s at the cusp of having everything that he’s ever wanted.

As he watches the two bicker over unwashed dishes, like a married couple does, Benny takes a sip of his coffee and smirks into the mug. He knows he ain’t much, but he’s a solid meddler. If he can get Dean back to feeling like Castiel being here’s not a guaranteed thing, he thinks he can get him to act on his feelings.

“Game on, brotha.”

1. Benny.

Benny’s in the kitchen when he hears them come back from the case.

Sam’s still unhappy that he’s allowed to stay in the Bunker, even if it’s for a couple of days, but Dean was very firm about it not being up for negotiations. They’ve found a compromise in not letting Benny join them on the hunts. Sam doesn’t trust a vamp, and Benny’s alright with that.

“Benny!” Dean’s voice cuts through the Bunker, loud and clear. “We’re back.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He responds from the other room, taking a couple of minutes to join them by the map table.

He’s carrying two cups of hot tea with him, and he walks over to Castiel’s right, placing one cup in front of himself and the other in front of the angel.

Both Dean and Cas seem to be confused at the gesture, and they’re sporting a matching frown to prove it. Okay, so maybe he’s decided to go a bit bold right at the start, but he’s only got a week so he has to skip a couple of steps.

“Dean said somethin’ about you likin’ honey. I found this guy who’s willin’ to deliver me some top-notch raw one, straight from the honeycomb.” Benny explains. “I reckon it should be good.”

The atmosphere in the room feels awkward for a couple of more seconds. Not a sound is to be heard, but for Castiel’s uncertain “Um.” The angel picks up the cup to taste the honey-laced tea, and all eyes seem to be at him.

Benny can sense Dean brimming with nervous energy.

“I know you don’t drink tea, so I figured you wouldn’t want any. But if ya want—“

“No, no. That’s…it’s fine.” Dean finishes instead of him.

“This is very good, Benny. Thank you.” Castiel offers, once he’s done with the tasting.

“Good. That’s good.” Benny responds with a soft smile. “I know nothin’ about honey, but I wanted to do somethin’ nice. Despite our differences, you had my back in there. So. Thank you.” He finishes, making sure that the expressed gratitude holds enough gravity.

Dean shifts uncomfortably from across the table and Castiel gives him one of those soft smiles he’s only ever seen Dean receive, so he counts it a win. Dean takes notice of it as well so he counts it as a double win.

“Anyway—“ Benny goes on to change the subject. Go easy on him, he thinks. He wants to shake Dean up a bit, but has to be careful not to frighten him completely away. “—Did you take care of that vamps’ nest?”

“It was challenging to track them down at first, but once we found them they didn’t put up much of a fight. I don’t expect for any remains of the nest to not taken care of.” Castiel explains, lowering the cup down to the table.

“Nice.” Benny takes a glance at Dean’s disheveled appearance. A cut here and a blooming bruise there, and then he looks at the angel. Castiel looks like he hasn’t even broken a sweat, taking on those vamps. “You look great for someone who’s just taken down a nest.” He points out, directing the observation at Castiel in particular.

It’s quite entertaining, if you ask him, watching the angel squirm. Castiel clears his throat, clearly picking up from Dean that something’s odd about this exchange, and Benny can almost see the gears shifting in his head as he tries to figure out what a proper response to this situation would be. They haven’t been exactly friendly in Purgatory, and Benny’s mostly used whatever time off from killing they had to tease him mercilessly. He figures this newfound gratitude and exchange of pleasantries between them must be weird as heck.

“Ooo-kay.” Dean is the first one to point it out. “I think I’m gonna go get a shower, now.”

“Yeah, alright, man. Cas here can tell me the rest of the details.”

“Cas?” Dean quirks a brow, not addressing the angel, but rather Benny’s usage of the nickname. Instead of acknowledging that there’s something odd about it and responding, Benny dives straight into questioning Castiel about the case until he hears Dean disappear in the background.

2. Dean.

On his way from the shower, Dean feels off. He knows well enough that it’s got something to do with Benny and Cas, but when he tries to rationalize his feelings, he doesn’t really have a reason to feel wrong about their exchange.

Two of his best friends are getting along, Benny’s given up on the teasing, he’s engaging with Cas, they’re having civil conversations and being nice with each other. It’s good. It’s what he wanted all along, right?

He runs the towel through his hair and enters the room, only to find Cas and Benny leaning into each other and laughing over something they’re discussing.

“I don’t remember there being anything that funny about the case.” He blurts out thoughtlessly, and where the hell did that come from? “Unless you’re talking about decapitation. Then I kinda get it.” Dean attempts to recover.

“Nah, brotha. Cas was just telling me his buddy up there –“ Benny points up with his face. “Benjamin, right?” Cas nods to that. “Here I was, thinking the angels are uptight, but turns out they just have a different social custom there. Once you get into it, they actually have a solid sense of humor.”

“It is true, Dean.” Castiel deadpans and Dean finds him endearing for being as socially inept as ever.

“Alright, you two. Wanna share and elaborate, maybe?” Dean asks, hating the way light annoyance tints his voice. Why does he sound like that? Like a—jealous…thing. Person. Whatever.

“It’s not of import.” Cas says. “I never would have brought it up if Benny hadn’t asked what my favorite things about Heaven are.”

Dean feels something squeeze tight around his heart. He’s never even thought of asking him that. He didn’t even know about this Benjamin, who was apparently among Cas’s favorite people. Hell, he’s been so self-centered that he assumed Cas didn’t even have anyone besides them.

He wants to say that Cas’s favorite things can’t be irrelevant, and they aren’t to him, and that he wants to know. Benny’s faster on the draw.

“I beg to differ. If it’s making you smile like that, it’s important.” Benny drawls, and for a good measure presses a brief touch against Cas’s forearm. Dean feels his stomach lurch at the sight.

It’s even worse that Cas looks all shy and grateful for that declaration, and it makes Dean want to jump out of his skin and put at least five feet of distance between them.

Dean must’ve been glaring daggers, because there’s a sudden shift in the way Cas holds himself. Like a reprimanded child, he moves back from where he was leaning into Benny, and looks worriedly at Dean.

Dean pretends not to notice.

“Sam arrived while you were showering. He said he’ll go sort through the archive. I should go and help him.” Cas gets up from the chair and leaves the room somewhat abruptly. Benny doesn’t seem to find anything odd about it. If he does, he’s as good at pretending as Dean.

When they’re left alone, Dean somehow musters up the courage to ask.

“What was that?” he tries to sound casual.

“What was what?” Benny asks, playing dumb. Or maybe he really doesn’t have any idea what Dean’s talking about, and Dean’s embarrassing himself by being paranoid.

“You, being like that. With Cas.”

“Like what, Dean?” Benny asks and leans back into his chair.

“Like…suddenly interested in anecdotes about his life, all thoughtful and appreciative.” Nice, Dean. If it sounded bad in his brain, it sounds even worse coming straight out of his mouth

“You don’t think Cas deserves someone to be thoughtful and appreciate to him?”

“I didn’t say that.” Dean snaps defensively. “You know what, nevermind. I’m gonna go get some rest, my back’s killing me.” Suddenly, he feels twice as tired, his bones twice as weary.

“Sure thing, man.” Benny responds, not pushing. Dean appreciates that, at least.

When he gets into bed, sleep doesn’t come easy.

3. Dean.

When Benny tells him he’s leaving for Louisiana on Sunday, Dean hates himself for feeling relief. He tells himself it’s because his relationship with Sam has become strained due to Dean’s willingness to fraternize with a vampire.

Five more days doesn’t seem that long, until Benny makes sure that it does.

He and Cas seem to be inseparable, and they’re always smiling and doing things.

Benny seems to be right there, all the time. Whatever Cas is doing, he’s itching to offer a hand. Throughout the week, Dean sees them baking together, playing scrabble, discussing lore, watching Our Planet on Netflix…one day he even sees them doing crafts together. Just for fun, Cas says.

On Friday, there’s a Wendigo in Topeka and Cas doesn’t offer to go with him and Sam.

Instead, he asks “Do you need me to join you?” And he phrases it in a way that Dean reads as ‘if it’s not necessary, I’d prefer to stay here, with Benny”.

So, naturally, Dean says “No.” He makes sure not to linger, so he wouldn’t see Cas’s joy upon hearing the words.

It’s nighttime by the time they return to the Bunker, and Benny and Cas are nowhere to be found. Dean makes sure to check the whole place, and if it takes him too long to knock on the doors of either of their bedrooms, no one has to know. No one answers anyway.

He considers texting one of them, and spends at least two hours mulling over the idea, which turns out to be long enough for the pair to come back from wherever they were. Dean hears them speaking in gentle, hushed tones and though a part of him wants to remain hidden behind the wall, so he can listen in on their conversation without being exposed – a stronger part of him propels him forward to interrupt.

“Hey.” He announces himself, and Cas takes a step back from Benny, stopping mid-sentence when he sees him. Dean’s nails dig into his palm. “I was worried about you-” comes right out of his mouth, the honesty and vulnerability of the admission scaring him. “-you didn’t say where you went.”

“Benny wanted to see the planetarium, so he asked if I’d like to come along.” Cas explains, sounding apologetic.

“I happen to know a thing or two about the stars.” Benny chimes in. “Me and my buddies from old nest used to be pirates.”

“You’re a vampirate?” Dean asks, stunned. Benny chuckles.

“Sure, brotha. If that’s how you wanna call it.”

“I learned a lot about the constellations.” Cas joins in and he seems genuinely excited to share this piece of information. Dean thought he already knew everything that’s to know about this universe, so he finds Cas’s claim that he’s learned something new from Benny odd. What if he wants to stroke his ego, what if—

“So you had fun.” Dean clears his throat, barely managing to tear his gaze away from Cas’s. He looks at Benny instead and shuffles his hands around the pockets somewhat awkwardly. He wishes he could be anywhere but here, but also, he thinks if he’s to leave now, something horrible could happen.

Not the ‘someone might die’ kind of horrible, no. Benny wouldn’t hurt Cas, that much he knows. But Benny could…

It’s a different kind of horrible.

“I’m actually pretty wiped.” Benny says instead of responding to Dean’s question, or well, more of a statement. “You two can catch up – I’m gonna go to my room now. And Cas—“

“Yes.” Cas turns to face him.

“Think about my offer. I mean, take your time but…lemme know.” Benny says and leaves it at that.

Cas doesn’t sleep, and that night neither does Dean.

4. Dean.

When Benny leaves, he decides to take the guns out and clean them. Cas decides to keep him company, in silence.

It probably would’ve been a polite thing of Dean to ask more about their little…date, but Dean doesn’t want to know. So he doesn’t ask. And Cas doesn’t tell.

For thirty minutes of muscle memory work, Dean lets this feeling stir within and gnaw at him. It takes him precisely thirty minutes to ask.

“So. Benny made you an offer?”

“He did.” Cas responds, matter-of-factly. He doesn’t seem too keen to elaborate, at least not without Dean’s further prompting. Dean’s far too curious, so he caves in.

“Can I ask what it is?” He sounds vulnerable, even to himself, and he doesn’t like that Cas picks up on it right away.

“He asked me to go with him to Louisiana, on Sunday.”

Dean doesn’t mean to, but he stops dead in his tracks and lowers the gun he’s holding on the table.

“Like…to visit?” Dean asks, unable to form any coherent thought at the moment.

“No.” Cas responds, gaze avoidant, looking down at his lap. He parts his lips, seemingly to offer further explanation, but ultimately decides against it.

The words he doesn’t say speak louder than the ones he does.

Dean swallows the lump in his throat, and he can feel the fear creep up and take roots in his lungs.

“Well, what did you decide?” he dares to ask. He feels anchored to his seat, paralyzed, and at the same time like he’s floating above and looking down at two of them.

“I told him I’d think about it.” Cas admits and Dean wishes he could refrain from reacting, but he flinches at the admission. When Cas does look up at him, he seems to be looking for Dean to say or do something.

But Dean’s left speechless. Because Cas has to think about it. He’s not sure about whether he wants to stay with Dean or leave, and Dean thinks back to ‘I always come when you call. I do everything that you ask.’

He thinks where along the way he’s screwed up so epically that he hasn’t given Cas reason enough to stay, but made him doubt whether this is where he belongs.

And then he looks back at the past week. At how Benny’s greeted Cas in the mornings, made him breakfast and coffee, and asked him about his life; learned things about him that Dean’s never bothered to in all these years. How Benny’s taken time to spend with him, out of the context of their jobs, and made it all about Cas – and how Dean’s never done that.

Of course, Cas thought about leaving. Of course.

“Well.” Dean swallows. “If you think that’s gonna make you happy…then I’m happy for you.”

Dean’s been selfish enough for a lifetime. With Sam, particularly, but everyone else that he’s ever cared about too. He wasn’t going to do that to Cas.

“Thank you, Dean.” Cas says, and Dean sees his shoulders sag. Whether in defeat or relief, because Dean’s green-lighted the decision, he can’t tell.

They don’t talk for the rest of the night.

5. Dean.

After hours of tossing and turning, Dean gives up on trying to fall asleep.

He gets up and gets into the car. He drives to the nearest open store to pick up stuff for an apple pie. It’s 4 AM and he’s baking, because it’s the only way to distract himself from the anxiety settling low in his belly.

Dean recognizes Cas’s steps when he hears them, and realizes then that he’s been making the pie with him in mind. The fact that Cas will be gone tomorrow makes it that much harder to face him, so Dean’s quick to scribble ‘For you. Hope you like it.’ on a sticky note. He leaves it by the baked good before Cas can find him.

When he comes back to the Bunker, he’s that much more certain that Cas has decided to leave. He doesn’t run into him until much later into the day, but finds a matching sticky note right where he’s left one.

‘Thank you, Dean. It was wonderful. I appreciate it.’ It reads, and Dean takes a sharp inhale to hold in, certain that if he allows himself to exhale right away he’ll crumble into pieces.

By the time sun goes down, it hits Dean that in less than twelve hours Cas will be gone and that he’s wasted what last precious moments he’s had with him on running. Panic settles deep in his bones when Cas joins him in the room, for the first time of the day.

“Hey, stranger.” He decides to speak up first. “Haven’t seen much of you today.” Or Benny, he thinks.

“Yeah.” Cas makes an attempt at a smile, but it falls flat.

“Were you out with Benny?” Dean tries not to make a big deal out of it.

“No. I don’t really know where he is. I just thought you would want some space, so I took a walk.”

“Why would I need space?” Dean frowns.

“You’ve been avoiding me.” Cas puts it right out there, raw and unfiltered. Should’ve seen that one coming.

“I wasn’t—“ he starts but fails to defend himself because that’s exactly what he’s been doing. Although, not because he needed space. What Dean needed was to come to terms with what was about to happen. He needed to prepare himself because this time he was given an actual notice. A chance to see it coming and get accustomed to it. Other times, when Cas would disappear for days, he usually did so without any warning or explanation, leaving Dean to wonder what had happened. This time, he at least knew. And understood.

“It’s okay, Dean. I know that things are different here than down there.” Cas finishes for him, and he sounds so understanding, so empathetic, and without holding a single grudge against Dean. It’s like he’d take whatever Dean will throw his way, and Dean feels sick.

“What does that mean?” he asks, and sounds defensive about it, but he knows. He may not fully comprehend all that he’s feeling, but he knows some—enough of it, despite having tried so hard and for so long to push it all down.

“I’m not trying to accuse you of anything, Dean. I’m just saying it’s different when we don’t have all kinds of monsters breathing down our necks, and we don’t know if today will be our last day on Earth.”

“What are you talking about? This gig, this life…we never know—“

“You know what I mean.”

Dean’s lips press together, preventing him from speaking any further.

He feels cornered. Cas hasn’t said anything, nothing’s really out there yet, but it kind of is. It’s like they finally acknowledged this elephant in the room between them, with as few words as they could, and Dean doesn’t know how to take a step back from here.

But more importantly, Dean feels ungrateful and he feels like a coward because Cas is right – and he shouldn’t be. It shouldn’t make any difference, this thing.

“I’m going to—“

“Yeah.” Dean gives him a quick nod, seeing Cas drift towards his room after a long moment of shared silence.

6. Cas

Although he doesn’t always understand humans, the things they do, and why they do them, Cas thinks he knows what’s going on here.

When Dean asked him about the answer he’s given to Benny’s offer, Cas doesn’t think he lied when he said he’s thinking about it. ‘Cause he is. He’s been thinking about whether he should stay here, more so than whether he should leave with Benny, ever since the topic came up.

He just failed to mention that when Benny offered, Cas immediately turned him down.

“That’s very generous of you, but I’ll have to politely decline.” He’d said.

“Thought so. Still, I’d like you to think about it for a couple of more days. The offer will stand.” Benny insisted, and Cas listened.

He’s not dumb. He knows what Dean thinks of them. He also knows that’s not what Benny wants from him.

Cas figured that, while initially it was all about pushing Dean to a breaking point and getting him to speak up about his desires, Benny’s intentions transformed. After a while, because he has spent a considerable amount of time with Benny and not all of it was pretending for the sake of provoking Dean, he and Benny did get closer. Although not in a way that Dean thinks, Benny has grown to respect and even like Cas, and he believed that’s at least a part of the reason why he’s asked him to come along.

There’s nothing respectful about the way Cas lets himself be treated, and he knows that.

He sits on the bed of his room in the Bunker, and he thinks how messed up he has to be to know that nothing’s ever going to change, and yet he chooses to stay – hoping that it will. Isn’t that the definition of stupidity?

He considers what it’d be like to allow himself, for once, to seek some finality. To ditch the hope in entirety and make peace with his truth.

If he left, it’d mean that he’s giving himself a chance to move on. He wouldn’t have to wonder anymore/ Wouldn’t feel so helpless, insecure, and stripped down to his very grace every time he’s around Dean. He’d just…know.

He’d make a choice and live with the consequences, whatever they are. It sounds as close to free will as he’ll ever get, and it’s tempting, but it doesn’t feel right.

And if he decides to stray, then what? Does he give himself a time constraint, for how much longer he gets to hope and wait? Or does he accept that regardless of him staying, everything else will remain the same and he’s going to be fine with that?

A knock grips him out of his thoughts, and he pushes himself up from the mattress to open the doors to the bedroom. On the other side, he finds Dean.

“Hey.” Dean says, and Cas doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to the way he gets weaker in the knees when he sees him. Once he started falling, he never stopped. Anna was right – all of these feelings that have found their way into every crevice of his being, they were massively beyond those first human experiences he’s had. Nothing could have warned or prepared him for the sheer intensity of loving Dean.

It was a different kind of pain. One as sweet as tempting, and although one didn’t want to be experiencing it, one was too weak to stop. After having heard about enough human experiences, he thought it was comparable to getting rehabilitation for drug addiction.

“Hello Dean.” He manages, unable to look anywhere but at Dean.

Dean doesn’t say anything after that, and Cas doesn’t really know what this is about, so he waits. And he waits.

And then asks.

“Is there something—“

“Stay.” Dean jumps in, and there’s urgency in the way he lets that word spill over.

“What.”

Cas can see him straighten and push his shoulders back. Dean reels in, the same way that he does when he’s expecting a punch.

Dean licks his lips, taking time to draws a sharp inhale before continuing.

“Look, man—“ he stops, then corrects himself. “—Cas.”

“If leaving…if going with Benny’s what you want, then I’m not going to stop you. But…”

Dean looks like he’s struggling to find the words, and Cas has no intent to rush him. He does feel instinctively drawn to lay a gentle touch on him, to offer comfort and reassurance, but he doesn’t.

He waits.

“If you’re looking for a reason to stay, if you need one – I want you to know that I want you to stay.” Dean says, and he looks like he has so much more to add, and he wants to, but this is as far as he can go. For now.

“Okay.” Cas manages after a while.

“Okay.” Dean nods and lets himself exhale as his shoulders sag further down. “That’s…that’s all I wanted to say.”

They both take one long look at each other after that, and then Dean leaves down the hallway and goes to his room.

7. Dean.

Dean doesn’t want to, but he sleeps soundly through the night. The exhaustion from not having rested properly these past couple of days runs him over. He dreams of nothing.

He wakes up abruptly to the clock reading 10:00 AM. That’s two hours after Benny’s planned departure.

He’s up on his feet before he knows it, running to the common room, as though he could catch up with them if he runs fast enough. There’s nothing rational about the way he’s thinking, but he can’t stop moving, can’t stop—

He gets to the map table and Sam and Cas are there, going through the lore, working on a case.

“Morning.” Sam greets him, brows furrowed in response to Dean’s disheveled looks and panicked appearance. Cas just stands there, trenchcoat on as always, nothing odd about him.

“Where’s Benny?” he asks, heart thundering loud against his chest as he grapples to reach full, sane awareness.

“He left.” Cas is the one to respond this time around, and Dean feels lighter than he has in a while.

“He left?” Dean repeats, dumbfounded. “Why didn’t you wake me up to say goodbye?”

“He said he hasn’t seen you sleep this long from the day he’s met you. Quite frankly, neither have we.” Sam offers. “We decided to let you rest. Besides, he said to tell you it’s not a goodbye – it’s just a see you later.”

“And you’re okay with that?”

“I’ll try to be.” Sam offers.

He’s finally awake enough to make further steps towards the table, and join the two of them in going through the papers scattered across.

“So.” He takes a look at Cas, not yet taking a seat next to them. “You decided to stay.”

“I did. Benny’s offer was nice but this is my home.” Cas pauses for a moment, before adding “It’s where I want to be.”

Dean sees a smile tug on Cas’s lips, and he allows for a matching one to bloom across his own.

“Good. That’s good. I’m glad.” He swallows and breaks the gaze, sitting down to look at the case.

“So get this.” Sam begins. “We have reports of witnesses seeing someone leave the house of the vic, thought they saw pitch-black eyes. Victim is a young male; pathologists say the corpse looks like someone had been gnawing at it…”

“So we’re thinking rugaru?” Dean asks, feeling himself slip into sense of normalcy that he hasn’t even realized to have been missing.

He lets the voices of Sam and Cas carry him through the rest of the case as everything falls back into its place.

[positivecorrelation]

Stealing my heart 'stead of stealing my crown

“If I had a gun, I'd shoot a hole into the sun, and love would burn this city down for you.

...‘Cus you're the only God that I will ever need, I'm holding on and waiting for the moment to find me.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It’s a modern day fairytale, where a mob prince falls for a commoner. They rarely talked, simple queries about the horses are all the words they’ve ever exchanged whenever they meet each other. Circumstances and positions didn’t allow them to be more than that. Yet they never fail to notice each other’s presence. Their individual professions demand keen observation and they do observe... everyone and everything around each other. 

The prince leads a luxurious yet risky life, he can have anyone at anytime, money is never the issue neither the pleasure. He’s got many admirers, many suitors who are more than happy to throw themselves at him but the prince is well aware about their ultimate goal and it sure as hell not love.

Power rules in this profession. Love has no place in this world, showing emotions is the ultimate suicide note. Colson knows it all, he’s been taught well. The members of his “kingdom” can vouch for that. 

~~~~~~~~~~~

It took a second to know the name, an hour to know his past and only a day to shift him to his mansion to look after his horses. The prince has appointed staffs for his commoner. No... not ‘his’ commoner, he didn’t buy him. He would be more than happy to buy him something but this commoner hardly ever makes eye contact. The guy mostly answers in grunts and shrugs, actions that are enough to get anyone killed within a moment. The prince, however, likes him that way.

Colson always tries to give Em space but every morning he mounts his favorite horse and gallops towards east side of his mansion where he knows Em will be taking care of his other horses. Em speaks less but always make sure to answer each and every query and at least make some eye contact with Colson. It’s their routine. Sometimes they both ride towards the nearest lake and exchange few more words. Those moments are Colson’s favorite, it’s the only time he sees Em smile. In those moments it almost feels like they’re two friends and not a prince and a commoner. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I’ll leave on new year. Need to think about my mission, my future,” Em informs Colson one day while brushing down the horse’s coat.

“But why?” Colson asks. “You’ve got everything here. What else do you need?” Colson rakes his brain while trying his best to keep his voice devoid of tremor. 

“You won’t understand”, Em tells him in a firm voice as he looks towards the mansion.

The prince has money, he’s got people who’d fulfil his every command, he can provide Em with everything, there’s nothing he cannot do. Colson looks down at his own clothes and tries to remember what day it is. Did he do something or somethin wrong?

“Come on, there’s nothing I... Colson begins as he gracefully dismounts from his horse. 

 “A family. Someone to lo... someone who’d give a damn about me like I do for these horses”. Em says as he pats his horse and starts waking toward the stable.

~~~~~~~~~~

 Colson knows that with Em, he still haven’t made any progress in the talking department or any another department for that matter. In fact, Colson’s quite surprised at his own level of patience for the last few months. He would love to blame anyone and everyone for this subtle change in him but deep down he knows the truth. Late in the night, when he lays awake and alone in his bed, staring at the ceiling for hours till the morning birds starts singing outside, in his garden, Colson can admit, at least to himself that it’s hope.

It’s scares him, it keeps him awake at night. This profession, this life has no place for hope, no real happiness. Showing such weakness will be equivalent to signing his own death contract but the prince is stubborn too. He’s no damsel in distress and neither is Em. He just wants to feel, he wants to be in love. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Em’s not a stable boy, cowboy or a mere staff for the prince. He’s... Colson’s not sure what he is, but in his mind, it’s just Em and that’s enough. It was enough until now because as much as he hates to admit it, he likes festivals, always tries to spend these few weeks away from all the bloodbath and legal issues. His kingdom is well aware of his confidence and lack of patience, however when it comes to Em, everything always turns upside down, in a good way.

The prince have got plans. This year, he plans to stay at his mansion for the first time in a long time. Maybe convince his members to take a week off or two, even reduce the staff members, decorate the entire mansion and invite Em for a grand dinner. He hopes Em comes because a lot of things depends on this single visit. Colson hasn’t bought a gift for him, the prince knows Em hates his reckless lifestyle and buying expensive gifts would be seen as throwing money at him, insulting him in the worst way possible. Instead of gifts, Colson has a question that he would love to ask Em. He trusts Em with his life, he just hopes he receives the best gift in this world when the guy finally answers.

~~~~~~ 

It’s a modern day fairytale, where a mob prince falls for a commoner. Except, he’s no commoner. He’s a prince of another kingdom of underworld, who’ve been able keep their entire business a secret all these years. And this prince had some plans of his own. The plan was to enter Colson’s kingdom, to earn his trust while showing no trust in him, plan to make him fall in love with his indifference and subtle queries, plan to make him suffer but failing miserably, plan to not fall in love but falling hopelessly. 

As Marshall looks on at the invitation envelope laying on his nightstand, he makes up his mind. He looks at himself in the mirror then checks the time. His team has already surrounded the property, all he needs to do is give them the signal. It’s almost time. He opens the door of his room and starts walking towards his final destination. He would fulfil his mission but not before answering Colson’s question first. He would destroy this kingdom and return to his own but not before taking his “princess” with him to create their own new world.

[the-awkward-outlaw]

“ I hate you. ”

Oof, this one made me sad! There’s a lot of angst in this one! 

Masterlist on AO3! 

Arthur’s been in a strange mood for the past few days. He’s hardly been in camp, which is nothing new. This man is constantly running around, doing jobs for people in camp and finding treasures, hunting and trading animals, meeting new people. What’s weird about his recent behavior is that the times he’s been in camp, he’s avoided you. 

You and Arthur have been a couple for nearly a year and you’ve rarely fought. Arthur’s always been thoughtful and sweet, and he knows you better than anyone else. If he asked you to marry him, you’d say yes. A few days back, he’d been in camp and he’d just snipped at everything you seemed to do or say. It was almost like he wanted to start a fight. Worse was that he didn’t seem to want you close to him. You’ve never been an overly touchy person, but he’s the exception. That day, whenever you tried to hold his hand or touch his arm, he’d brush you off. 

Then later that night, he went into your shared tent and found your journal, which you’d left there and forgotten. It was lying open on a page where you’d drawn his face and a small entry that had nothing to do with him. Arthur picked it up and flipped through the pages and found that on almost every single one, he was mentioned or you’d drawn him.

When you came in to go to sleep, he jumped on you. He accused you of being obsessive, even on the edge of being creepy. He said some pretty bad things along with those and you just stood there, not defending yourself. It was a habit of yours from your childhood as your parents constantly yelled at you and if you argued back, they’d get meaner. So you just let Arthur be mad and say those things. You wiped away a tear before he saw and left the tent to sleep elsewhere. 

Were you creepy? Was your habit of focusing on Arthur unhealthy, even borderline stalker? You don’t know, you’ve never been in love before. Not like this anyways. He saved your life a few months before you started dating, there’s no doubt about that. 

Your parents had died a long time ago and they left you in the care of your mother’s sister. She was more of a proper mother than yours ever was and she raised you properly, teaching you how to take care of  yourself. She was your best friend too. But then she got sick and within days was dead. In your grief, you left her home and just wandered, searching for purpose. Sunk in your grief and depression, Hosea found you and brought you to his gang, but it was Arthur who helped you go through your grief. He was the one who took interest in you, who you told about your past, and it was he who helped you go through the motions of grief and he was always the one there to help you stand when you didn’t have the strength. There’s no doubt in your mind that without his help, you would have killed yourself. Arthur saved you. 

You never saw your habits of drawing him or talking about him in your journal was unhealthy. Sure, you stuck to him more than the others, but he was your boyfriend, isn’t that what you’re supposed to do? You’d thought your relationship was strong, healthy, but Arthur pointed out the obvious flaws that night. You still remember the way he threw your journal on the ground. 

Over the past couple of days since the fight, Arthur’s hardly been around and he’s avoided you like the plague. You’ve come to a particularly painful decision; it’s time to end the relationship. Arthur clearly wants nothing to do with it, or you for that matter. He strolls in on his big horse and you call him over. You see him roll his eyes a bit and take in a deep breath, but he walks over. 

“What is it?” he says in a cold voice, his hands on his gunbelt. 

“We need to talk, Arthur. Alone.” You walk off into the trees, listening to him follow. When you’re near the river’s edge beneath Horseshoe Overlook, you stop and turn. Your chest is tight and there’s a big lump in your throat. You don’t talk for a while. 

“You gonna say somethin’ or am I free to let my mind wander?” Arthur snaps after waiting a few moments. 

You sigh again. “Sorry. I’m just… trying to decide how to do this.” You bite your lip and then speak up. “Arthur, I think it’s best we stop seeing each other.” 

“Well that ain’t possible, the camp ain’t that big.” 

“You know what I mean, Arthur. I clearly creep you out and I… I don’t want to be with you anymore,” you lie. 

Arthur lowers his brow and looks at you hard. “Fine. That’s just fine.” 

He stalks back up the hill before you have a chance to say anything further. You sink down on a rock and cry. Time passes and when you’re ready to rejoin camp, it’s well into the afternoon. 

The next few days are particularly difficult. Arthur comes around camp more often now that you’re not dating, but whenever you’re in ear shot, you swear you hear him make some kind of snide remark. He doesn’t bother to hide the fact that you broke up, but he doesn’t go boasting about it either. At least he has the decency to do that. Whenever he goes to greet the girls and make sure they’re doing fine, he pointedly ignores you. 

Four days of this go by and you’re not sure how much longer you can take it. You feel yourself sinking into that familiar pit that Arthur helped you climb out of. 

One afternoon, you’re standing at Pearson’s wagon, making the last parts of tonight’s stew. Arthur walks past without throwing you a glance, but then Abigail walks up to him. 

“How you doin’, Arthur? I hear you went and saw that Mary again.” 

Arthur just chuckles and hides his eyes beneath his hat, a faint blush on his cheeks. “Yes, but I just helped her with a favor.” 

“I always did like her,” Abigail says. You know she’d never say this in front of you, but she clearly hasn’t noticed you. “You two sweet on each other again? Sure it’d be a change for you.” 

Arthur huffs a bit. “Nah, like I said, just helpin’ her with a favor.” He peaks over Abigail’s shoulder and spots you. “Was nice bein’ with a woman who at least pretended like I wasn’t the center of her world.” 

You wince at the remark as it was clearly intended for you. Your eyes begin to tear up and you hear Abigail say something, but you don’t hear what she says over the roaring in your ears. “I hate you, Arthur Morgan,” you mutter under your breath. 

Feeling hurt and betrayed, you slam down the corn you’d been stripping of its hair and stalk off over to the horses. Without looking back at him, you mount up on your horse and gallop out of camp. You hear someone calling your name, but you ignore it. You’re glad that you always keep your tent, bedroll, guns and extra clothes in your saddlebag. You’re leaving the Van der Linde gang and you’re not coming back. You can’t come back. 

*********************************

Right after Arthur made the remark about Mary not being “obsessed” with him, he felt incredibly guilty, especially when he saw your face. How your entire face went red and your eyes grew shiny with moisture and your lip trembled. He knew he’d taken things too far, but then you got off on your horse and ran off. He’d called your name but you ignored him. 

Arthur puts his hands on his hips and sighs. He’s really messed up now, he knows it. He shouldn’t have been so hard on you, but he was devastated when you’d broken things off with him. When you said you didn’t want to be with him anymore, it broke his heart but he wasn’t going to force you to do anything you didn’t want to do. 

It was true, Arthur had found it strange and a little unsettling how he seemed to be your entire world. When he’d flipped through your journal, he hadn’t really bothered to read the passages. He’d just seen his name scribbled among them and seen your sketches of his face, his body. If he’d read it, he would have found them filled with emotion, gratitude and love. He’d gotten angry with you because he was worn out, exhausted from how much he’d been sent off on jobs. Then he’d gotten that damn letter from Mary and his mind went into a confusing whirlwind of emotions, with memories of both you and Mary tumbling around. 

Arthur did love you more than Mary, but she had some kind of mysterious hold on him. She always had and he hated it, especially since she knew it and played him better than anyone else could. You never once accused him of being a horrible man, never asked him to change, never looked down on him. He felt better when he was around you, like he was worthy of gaining redemption for his bad choices. Mary only told him how she should have hung him years ago. 

Arthur rubs his jaw, staring off into the trees where you’d run off. He’d heard you mutter that you hated him and he doesn’t blame you. He knows he’s taken things too far since you broke up and he has a feeling you didn’t do it because you wanted to, but because you were under the impression it was what he wanted. He also remembers the horrible things he’d said to you in the tent that night, how you’d just stood there. You must have believed those things, why else wouldn’t you try to contradict him? 

Hosea walks up to him and claps a hand on his shoulder. “Son, think you got a little out of hand with her,” he says. 

“No doubt,” Arthur says. “But maybe it’s for the best, Hosea. After all, she was a little….  Don’t you think she was a little too obsessed with me?” 

Hosea gives him a curious look. “No, I don’t think that at all.” 

“Well, you didn’t see her journal. I was on almost every page of that thing.” 

Hosea smiles. “And how many pages of your journal does she occupy? I dare you to count them, Arthur. You might be surprised. There’s a fine line between being obsessed and being in love.” 

Arthur just huffs and walks off to his tent. Hosea’s got him thinking: how much of his journal are you in? He pulls it out and flips through it. Sure enough, you’re mentioned or sketched on a large portion of the pages. In fact, most of them have you. Arthur’s heart sinks further and then he looks up at the table where he keeps a picture of you next to the photo of his mother. Lying next to it is your journal. You never picked it up after he threw it on the ground, too afraid to come back to the tent to collect it. 

He grabs it and flips through it again. He takes the time to read the passages and most of the ones he’s mentioned is you stating the things he’s taken you to see or do, how grateful you are he helped you to live so you could experience life. He realizes your behavior is not obsession, but love and adoration. 

When he gets to the last page in your journal that you wrote in, he comes to the conclusion that it’s a good thing you dumped him. After all, he’s not worthy of you.

***********************************

Two weeks have passed since you left camp. You’ve made no plans or intentions to ever go back, not when you know Arthur will be there. You’ve set up a small, make-shift camp in Big Valley, a place Arthur showed you months ago. It’s been one of your favorite places ever since and the sunrises and sunsets are out of this world. Game and wild herbs are plentiful, the stream provides more than enough water to support you. This is the perfect place. You’ll stay here for a long time. 

Of the gang, you’ve heard nothing, to which you’re grateful. Most of them were your friends and you didn’t take the time to say good-bye. Arthur had hurt you so badly, you couldn’t stay any longer. You still think about him everyday. How could you not? You were intending to be with him your entire life, even if you never got married. You just wish things hadn’t ended so badly, all your memories of him are tainted by it. Sometimes, you wish you’d never fallen in love with him. It would make things easier. 

It’s late afternoon and you’re out hunting. A large herd of pronghorns graze peacefully near a large dead tree on the banks of the shallow stream. You take down a buck easily, but you feel another pang that if it weren’t for Arthur, you’d be starving right about now. He was the one who taught you how to hunt and butcher. You skin the pronghorn and take as much meat as you can carry, then you go back to your little camp. When you get there, you’re forced to a stop. Someone’s in your camp. 

You recognize Arthur’s form too easily and your heart begins to pound in your chest. What has he come here for? Has Dutch sent him to hunt you down and drag you back to camp? No, Dutch always said no one was forced to stay with the gang, it’s not a prison camp. Then is Arthur here to start another fight? Is he going to try and kill you? You don’t like to think he intends to, but the thought still crosses your mind. 

You stand there and stare at his back for a long time. He’s sitting at the fire, clearly waiting for you. He must feel your presence because he finally turns around and looks at you. He sighs, looking a little relieved. He stands up and turns his body to face you. 

“Hey sweetheart. Don’t be nervous, I ain’t here to hurt ya.” He puts his arms up as if he’s surrendering. 

You’re in a defensive stance, your eyes don’t blink as they flit over his form. “What do you want, Arthur?” you say quietly. 

“I just wanted to come and apologize. I’ve always been a fool, but lately I’ve been a complete ass.” 

You breathe out hard, almost as though you’re skeptical. “Why would you apologize to me, Arthur? I’m your stalker, remember? I give you the creeps.” 

He looks down. “I’m so sorry, darlin’. I should never have said those things. They aren’t true, never have been. I just… saw your journal, but didn’t bother to really look at it and I jumped to conclusions. Hosea gave me some hard truths and I’ve realized you ain’t ever been what I accused you of. You’re… you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” 

He looks up again and his eyes are glittering. “Darlin’, I ain’t here to try and convince you to take me back. Hell, don’t! I don’t deserve ya. But I made ya feel like you weren’t welcome anymore and that’s not fair. I just wanted to let you know you still have a home with the gang. I won’t get in the way of that.” 

You haven’t relaxed your stance. He sighs again. “Well, I just wanted to let you know that I’m sorry. I… I hope you’ll come home. Not for me, but for everyone else. They all miss you. Especially Mary-Beth and Jack. They’ve missed your funny stories.” 

Arthur heads over to his horse and mounts up. Without another word, he rides off. When you’re sure he’s gone, you creep over to your camp. Nothing has been moved or taken, in fact you see a folded piece of paper on your bedroll. Opening it, you see a sketch of you. You recognize Arthur’s work. At the bottom of the page, you see in his loopy writing, the words “I love Y/N”. A ball forms in your throat again, but you’re not really sure how to respond from here. 

*******************************

Two days later, you finally pack up your camp and head back to Horseshoe Overlook. When you return, you’re welcomed with open arms and happy smiles. Hosea pats your shoulder, stating it’s good to have you back. Pearson’s ecstatic when you give him all the pelts and meat you’ve collected during your trip. Jack runs over, asking if you saw any unicorns (your last story had been about a princess who met a unicorn in a forest). 

The last person who comes to greet you is Arthur. When you both lock eyes, everyone turns away and goes back to their own tasks, knowing you both need your privacy. Arthur wears a small, shy smile and he walks over to you. 

“I’m glad you came home, Y/N.” He shuffles his feet a little, wanting to say a thousand things to  you. However, he doesn’t want to pressure you to take him back, knowing it’s not fair to you. “Well, let me know if you need anything.” He tips his hat and starts walking away. 

Before he gets far, you grab his hand, spin him around to face you and bury your head into his chest. His chest clenches hard, but he folds his arms around you. He feels the moisture from your eyes seeping into his shirt, but he doesn’t care. He kisses the top of your head and squeezes you. 

“I love ya,” he whispers in your ear. 

You look up at him, your eyes red and puffy, fresh tracks running down your cheeks. “I love you, Arthur Morgan.”

[peckin-pat-marlow]

Tagged by @captain-teddy-reese

50 Questions: OC Interview

1. What’s your name?

“Howdy. I’m Patricia Marlow.”

2. Give us your full name

“...Ah fine! My middle name’s Winifred... Patricia...Winifred...Marlow.

3. Do you have a nickname? If yes, what is it and how did you come to have it?

“I’ve been called shorter of my names: Pat, Patsy, Patty Cake (don’t bother askin’ why.) But folks way out south west know me as “Peckin’ Pat Marlow. I shot my town’s sheriff the day after...his obstruction of justice. Gave him that kiss he wanted afterwards. And it became a habit with anyone I killed as leader of the Marlow Marauders.”

4. What species are you? (Human, werewolf, etc? Or are you an alien?)

“Last I checked...I’m still human.”

5. Where were you born?

“I was born in a town the south west of texas. It was famous for its large lake and gold mine a few miles out. Just make sure you have ginseng and special vegetation for the snakes and lizards...I wouldn’t head there if I were you. Hasn’t rained for 13 years.”

6. I see. And that would make your age...?

“That would make me...36 years old.”

7. Okay, now...are you a good guy, or a bad guy?

“What I’ve done doesn’t make me a saint, but it don’t mean I have bad morals.”

Part II: Tell Us More About Yourself...

8. How would you describe your personality?

“Back before I was soft, sweet and kind..had to be for the kids, but I still held myself firm for the adults as well. When the town reared it’s ugly head...I became a different person; ruthless, vengeful, hard hearted, didn’t take shit from no person when it came to me and my gang. It take no responsibility for indirect harm because they didn’t handle circumstances better! I was willing to do whatever it takes to get vengeance not with death, but with nothin’ for ‘em left! But I couldn’t my gang be taken with me in my final moments.

But after that last score, when I suddenly found myself alive and rescued. I began to mellow out...I still had my temper and was satisfied with what I’ve accomplished, but I became more aware of how the world was changing. So I just wander the lands to keep an eye on this changing world and hope it’s for the better.”

9. Would you say you're someone who can handle pressure?

“I’ve had moments where I was frustrated...but I’ve managed to maintain my composure around misbehaving kids and disrespectful adults.”

10. Do you like to read?

“Well, yeah. What kind of teacher doesn’t like to read?”

11. Favourite Colour

“I’ve grown fond of the colour black.”

12. Do you get along with others?

“Just because I get along with people doesn’t mean I like them. I do so to get the job done, and if they don’t cross me I choose them to stick close and see how things turn out.”

13. Do you have any enemies?

“Many could call me their enemy, but the one I call my nemesis won’t bother me anymore...”

14. How about friends?

“I became friends with my gang through the trust and teamwork we had for over 13 years. I’m sure they’re all fine and free. I have met other folks but I can’t call them friends just yet.”

15. Are you patient?

“I can be...When your a teacher you have to be patient to know more about situations.”

Part lll: Hypothetically...

16. Suppose that you could become any creature you know of. What would you pick, and why?

“I’ll say a cougar. They’re just as vicious, independent, dexterous, with some self indulgence. They can still purr, y’know?”

17. One of your enemies in question 13 just complimented you. Response?

“Which one? If it’s Gill then he’s complimenting me with sarcasm and rage since he’s still not found the loot. His generation’s gonna be diggin’ for years and won’t be the ones to find it.”

18. One of your friends in Question 14 just insulted you. Response?

“I prefer their insults as criticism. But at least their words won’t mean they betray me straight away.”

19. If you could change anything about yourself...

“I can’t see me changin’ anytime soon...but I guess I gotta find somethin’ else to do without second guessin’.”

20. About your home...

“It ain’t like a manor, but It had enough space for my parents and my things...But it was so damn expensive thanks to Gill’s daddy...it got burnt down by an angry mob, along with my school, Miles’s stand and his donkey, Sally-Ann...

Part IV: Now We Get Personal

21. What're your parents like?

“They were geniuses compared to the other folk in town. Both of em met in the city where they got their degree. I don’t think their families approved though, as I haven’t heard a thing about my grandparents. But they were good people using their money to buy two properties, for my home and school.

But I can’t give em that. Their last wish was to make sure I improved the head on my soldiers before they slowly died together from Diphtheria...I didn’t know they passed until Miles came to check on me.”

22. Do you have any siblings?

“None. I was an only child, thank goodness. If I had a younger baby sister, Gill would target her more than me...”

23. What's your occupation?

“I used to be a teacher in my hometown. Since I was the only women with the knowledge thanks to my parents education, I took up the role. Taught both kids and adults to read and write.”

24. I see, that's a good job to have. Do you like it?

“I enjoyed my job when it came to the kids. Nothin made me feel better than givin’ them somewhere to be while adults did their own thing, though I wished I could have give them more subjects, but reading and writing was more tolerable to teach than the other things that adults couldn’t make sense of. As for the adults...I won’t lie there are some worse than the children. Way worse.”

25. Are you seeing/dating anyone?

“No...”

26. Married/Engaged/Other?

“I wished for that with someone once.”

27. If yes, how did you meet?

“...I met Miles Wiley when I first came to town after my parents moved. He was a vegetable farmer with a donkey he claimed was over a century old from the vegetables he ate. Many folks who can’t afford the doctor’s fee often came to him for tonics, ointments, all sorts of ailments that were reliable, especially for the gold miners who came for the juice as repellent for the lizards. Before me he was the only stranger in that town...He made me welcome even after I took over the town’s teacher and helped repair my school, only askin’ for the spiced apricots I made.

But the town found out how close we really was from our first...and last kiss. He only wanted to fix me after being broken down for so long...We tried to escape by boat, but of course Gill had his ferry and me and Miles weren’t much of a shot...He wasn’t even armed but he shot him...he shot him even as I held him.

28. Tell us your biggest secret.

“Aside from people thinkin’ I’m dead? Everyone knew about me and Miles so I got no big secret to hide.”

29. Your worst fear? You don't have to answer this one if you don't want to.

“After what the Sheriff did, I fear being put into that situation again where I was taken advantage of right under others noses...Then there’s being in the middle of a ring of fire.”

30. Favorite food?

“I may had made spiced apricots once upon a time but it ain’t my favourite food. I don’t have it as much as I like to...but I do miss that Pecan pie.”

30. Favorite drink?

“Spiced Island Moonshine. I just discovered this recipe and it tastes like the goods of home and warm escape. I could kiss Marcel for makin’ this but... then I’d have have to kill him.”

31. Tell us one thing you're the most proud of.

“I would have said getting revenge on Gill for killing Miles was the best thing that happened...But I never imagined letting the group go free after our last score would take that. Some graduation, huh?”

32. Something embarrassing? You don't have to answer this one, either.

“Whatever is embarrassing is what happens when I’m drunk...”

33. If you didn't answer Questions 29 and/or 33, tell me why.

“I may have mellowed out from my recovery, but I have my damn pride still.”

34. Is that a good reason?

“Just take it as you will...”

Part V: Closing

35. Are you satisfied with your life?

“I felt like my life was nearly wasted than satisfied. I loved Miles but I wasted my life in that town. I remembered my gang more fondly than the town. But I’m still young to do somethin’.”

36. Anything you feel like you have to do? It can be something long-term, like a bucket list, or something you need to do right now.

“Well my vengeance has been achieved and leading a gang is something to tick off. I’m gonna start looking for things as Patricia Marlow and not Peckin’ Pat.”

37. Any hobbies?

“I have developed a thing for watching shows in the theatre, and I used to play the banjo to sing songs with kids. I’m sure I haven’t gone too rusty.”

38. Quick, you get one wish! What did you just wish for? It's alright, you can tell me...

“I wish Miles was alive....That’s the one thing I can’t have back.”

39. How would you describe that wish? Good? Bad? Selfish? Selfless? Other?

“I don’t give a damn what anyone thinks of us...Folk wouldn’t have approved of us, but...we’d be more free if we got out together.”

40. Have you been honest with these questions?

“That I have...Now that you know me it’s all about what u gonna do?”

41. Your personal quote?

“The snake which cannot cast its skin has to die. As well the minds which are prevented from changing their opinions; they cease to be mind.” - Friedrich Nietzsche

42. Do you like change?

“It’s what I fought for when things didn’t change enough...”

43. What's your most valued possession?

“Since they burned Miles’s body, I wasn’t left with much to remember him. It was a good thing I found his hat after I left town, but I haven’t taken it out of my satchel since.”

44. Anything else you feel like sharing?

“Not right now, I ain’t.”

50. Last question!...yup, that's it! How do you feel?

“Like a few pounds has been lifted off my shoulders. Or it might just be one of my firearms...Haha! Don’t worry, I just gotta reload.”