#(shout out to my poor step dad who had to deal with me throwing up within 20 minutes of our first car trip together)

[noirhistories]

"you had a guy like that come in and there wasn't a bar fight? surprising." ari can just imagine the kind of rhetoric that guy was spewing, but one doesn't go to nails for the high brow clientele. there's a reason for their reputation and it's well deserved, but he doesn't need to explain that to max, who must have some kind of preservation instinct. ari doesn't blame max for finding his podcasts about murder more interesting than a chat about politics with someone like that, but ari has never been one for political talks. or religious talks, for what's likely obvious reasons, and yet the proselytizers keep finding him like they could smell something on him.

despite all the time he spends with criminals, the necrophilia twist is unexpected and gets a snort out of ari before he tilts his head in thought. "if he had some kind of obsession with necrophilia, i would argue that he tried killing her because he loved her. he loved her enough to want to have her in life and death and possess her completely. if there wasn't something about her to make it special, he could have just dug up a dead body. if he waited for a flood, he could have his pick and store them for a lonely night." morbid, but he isn't saying that the guy was in his right mind. love is just a chemical cocktail and it's so easy for love to tip into paranoia or worse, so fuck the idea that love is only ever a good and pure thing.

maybe he shouldn't have been making jokes about desecrating a corpse, but ari's never been known for his social skills and he isn't particularly worried about scandalizing max even if there was a chance max was trying to poison him at that moment. "nuclear waste isn't nearly as impressive to look at compared to barbicide," ari comments, strictly for the sake of being a dick as he takes a sip and he has to hand it to max, he wants to make a face over how sour it tastes. "it's like a jolly rancher made of acid. i'm impressed." and curious to see if max is going to dare try taking a sip.

"yeah, everyone in this shithole is a weirdo. but they're not—there's different kinds of weirdos. a guy came in last week with a leather jacket hand painted to look like the american flag. you can imagine what he had to say about politics. nothing i want to hear about." human evil is always so... boring and unimaginative. oh, sure. hate the unknown. hate the differences. hate what base instinct and horrible upbringing tells you is the easiest. it's that kind of hatred that undermines what he's trying to do—he should be the face of ultimate evil! instead, he's out gunned by a bunch of lunatics! but he'll give ari something—it probably doesn't hold a candle to the true horror that is the criminal mind. that's the kind of evil he would like to hear more about, the inherent, creeping darkness of it all... no, instead he gets a bunch of people drugged up on fear. what a useless emotion it is, too. he knows his underground friend will agree with that sentiment. "serial killer, actually. i guess those are kind of like crimes of passion... of your passion is necrophilia. but anyway, he tried to kill his girlfriend and one host said that means it's obvious he never loved her. the other argued that maybe he did, but that love wasn't good enough to save him, or whatever. curious what someone who actually works with these people would think... other than that they're a bunch of losers. which, obviously—that's why they get caught." he watches ari sip and is surprised when he doesn't immediately double over in pain. "i call it nuclear waste," he says, brow arched. "and you know what, if that's not good enough for you..." he snatches the glass back, offering one last evil glare before he lunges for the shelves. what does he put into it? the better question is what doesn't he? hanging it back to ari, he seethes with daring spirit—go on, future heart attack, drink it! "review that."

[boredfanwrites]

Buddie #1

There is not a bone in my body that can accept that in any other universe they wouldn't be perfect together. Post 4x14 so SPOILERS for that. This got so much longer than I thought it would be. Sorry in advance, there's much more under the cut.

· Eddie tells him about the will. Chris goes to Buck if anything happens to Eddie. Which it very nearly did.

· It causes Buck to actually stop and think things through before rushing into danger.

· The rest of the team question it while Eddie's recovering but he just says there's someone relying on him now.

· They take it to mean Taylor - well Chimney and Albert do, Hen and Bobby are more clued in.

· Buck talks about Eddie and Chris like he did when they quarantined together - like they're living together again.

· They are.

· Buck moved in to help Eddie and his recovery, with Ana stepping in when he was on shifts - even if she tended to undo everything Buck had done.

· He tells himself it's because she's not used to the way he and Eddie do things - yes that one singular bowl and plate live in the lower cupboard, it's so Eddie can reach them easily. Chris always picks the movie on movie nights, Eddie and Buck alternate when he's gone to bed.

· Eddie is stubborn as always, but has managed to allow Buck to help him dress and shower - Ana is very much not allowed, despite her protests they're barely in a relationship.

· Eddie explains to Buck that yes, they've been together for six months but they've not really been togetherand he quietly admits that he regrets telling Chris so soon.

· Buck calms him and says that it was right to introduce Chris to the idea of Eddie dating, but yeah, maybe it wasn't smart to spring Ana on him so early - especially because she decided she had to be a bigger part of his life now he was aware.

· Chris manages to get to the station once while Buck is on shift.

· Buck comes back to Albert making him pancakes and Chris scribbling with the things they keep for the school trips.

· 'What are you doing here, bud? Does your dad know?'

· 'Kinda.'

· 'What does kinda mean here?'

· 'He knows I wanted to see you. I don't think he knows that I came here.'

· Albert quickly jumps in saying he's texted Eddie and he and Carla are on their way, it just happens that the rig got back before they got there.

· Buck sits down with Chris, leaning his head on his arms and looks at the picture. It's him, Eddie and Buck with Carla and her husband in the background.

· 'What's wrong, Chris?'

· 'Ana.'

· 'Ok, what did she do?'

· 'Tried to get me to bath before I ate and then said I had to do my homework before TV time.'

· 'Buddy, you always have to do your homework before TV time.'

· 'But she tried to help me.'

· 'Your dad and I try our best to help you. She's a teacher, she's better use than us.'

· 'No that's not it.'

· Chris has tears in his eyes and a death grip on his crayon.

· 'She told the poor boy his handwriting was ineligible and took his pencil, tried to get him to tell her the answers and that she would write them for him.' Carla sighs.

· She stands with her arms open and Chris runs into them. Eddie looms behind them, looking sad.

· Well, neutral really, but Buck knows his micro expressions well enough.

· After that Ana is banned from the house in the afternoons/evenings and Carla steps back in. The new problem is Ana turning up when Buck has days off - their schedule was she was here when Buck wasn't, for multiple reasons.

· Ana's great, there's just something about her that Buck doesn't like and she definitely doesn't like Buck. Maybe it's because they're just opposites.

· Eddie tries to gently tell her that he barely gets to see Buck anymore and he needs it for his mental health. Ana starts pestering about the fact that he should want to see his girlfriend more than his best friend.

· It's one of their biggest fights and turns into a screaming match one night (Chris is at Hen's with Denny but Buck is hiding away in the guest room) where Eddie shouts that she had decided that she was his girlfriend without asking Eddie if that was what he wanted and she was suffocating.

· She leaves pretty quickly after that and Buck is incredibly happy as their paths never cross again.

· There's an emptiness settling in his chest when he finds out that the two are still together and are treating the relationship as though they're just dating again. He hates that he really doesn't like the idea that it's working out now that they're on even footing.

· He decides to push it away and starts getting reckless again. Taylor's hanging around the station more like she wants more from Buck, but he'd given up. She liked being chased and now that he's tired of it, she wants him. He knows she'll get bored if he shows interest again.

· It's interest he doesn't have. Eddie had called him Evan and told him he deserved more. How was he supposed to go back to normal after that?

· Why doesn't Eddie see how life changing that was?

· Eddie does. But in typical Eddie fashion, he pushes it deep down and replaces it with his content being with Ana. She makes his parents happy, which makes him happy. She gets along with Pepa and Isabel and his sisters, but they act a lot more familial with Buck.

· It makes sense, he tells himself - they've had years with Buck.

· Nothing really changes for Buck until TK and Judd find themselves in LA. Buck hastily explains to TK that he wasn't asking him out back in Austin, he just wanted a friend and really he wasn't attracted to guys.

· TK just straight up laughs at Buck.

· 'Buckley, you checked me, Carlos, and the barista out in the span of like five minutes. You're a little attracted to guys.'

· 'Wait, you mean you and Diaz ain't datin'?'

· Judd's question throws Buck through a loop.

· 'What? No...we're just...we're friends. Best friends.'

· TK laughs again, patting Buck on the shoulder.

· Once they're on their last day, TK takes Buck out for a drink like he'd promised. Buck tries to ignore the fact he's brought him to a gay bar.

· He gets hit on at least three times in an hour, not to mention the building collection of beers for both him and TK and he decides he doesn't actually mind it.

· 'Ok, I want you to do something for me. Scan the crowd and pick a guy, any guy, and tell me what you find attractive about him.'

· Buck picks out a shorter man, tanned skin and dark hair.

· 'He's got a cute smile.'

· 'Oh boy, you have a type.'

· 'Huh?'

· 'He looks like Eddie.'

· And he does. Like a Walmart version of Eddie though. He didn't laugh like Eddie, didn't have the same laugh lines. Or frown lines. His eyes weren't as warm when he met Buck's nor did he smile as fondly. And...

· 'Fuck.'

· 'You just now realizing your feelings for him?'

· 'Yeah. How did I not know?'

· 'Honestly, it was probably such a subtle shift. From what you've told me you've basically been a couple for a year and a half, so you didn't realize anything had changed for you.'

· 'I've never denied it.'

· 'I mean you clearly must have.'

· 'No. I meant that there have been so many times people assumed Eddie and I were a couple and I never denied it, I went along with it all.'

· 'Shit man, you had it bad before you even realized.'

· Buck groans as TK throws an arm around him, leaning against his shoulder.

· Things change after that. Buck is hesitant with physical touch with Eddie - it's his main love language and he needs to make sure he's not overdoing it and making Eddie uncomfortable.

· Eddie notices because of course, he does. Buck has pulled away from him for seemingly no reason. The second Eddie can dress, shower, and reach the high cabinets himself Buck is talking about going home.

· He is home.

· Eddie doesn't say it, he just hums, not really agreeing. He's gotten used to Buck being around and so has Chris. They'd easily fallen back into their quarantine routine and now Buck would be leaving again.

· A quick thought of getting shot again fills Eddie's head. Though this time it's nothing to do with his PTSD and more so that he doesn't want Buck to leave. So he exaggerates just a little.

· 'You know, my PTSD is still acting up. Maybe, you could stay until it balances out a little?'

· 'You'd want me to?'

· 'Yeah, you're great at getting me out and calming me and Christopher down.'

· 'You don't think Ana should start taking up some night shifts?'

· 'I don't really want her to deal with that side of me yet.'

· 'Okay.'

· 'Okay?'

· 'Yeah, I'll stay.'

· Eddie keeps an eye on Buck just as much as he keeps an eye on Eddie. He quickly realizes that Buck is holding in his own troubles. He knows from experience that Buck does not think his problems are anywhere near as bad as everyone else's. He has a lot of unlearning to do.

· Subtly, Eddie starts talking to him about his mental state, his worries, trying to let Buck know it's ok to do the same.

· When he and Ana inevitably break up not even a month later, it's Buck that he tells first.

· Buck, who has his back.

· Buck, who loves Christopher as his own.

· Buck, who is insecure about everything he does except saving people.

· Buck, who thinks he is unworthy and undeserving of love.

· Buck, who shows his love through acts of kindness and physical affection.

· Buck, who Eddie is so unapologetically in love with and probably has been for years.

· The revelation doesn't shock him like he thought it would. More so, it was a natural progression of their relationship.

· Friends. Best friends. Co-parents. Co-habiting. Partners. Partners.

· Eddie sees a future with Buck, a future he'd only ever seen with Shannon but it's so much brighter.

· He comes home from his first shift back - Buck wasn't working and offered to look after Christopher so Eddie knew he was safe - to find Buck on the couch, staring into an empty beer bottle.

· 'Hey?' it's broken and Eddie drops his things to rush over to him.

· 'You good?'

· 'No. I'm not.'

· Buck looks up, tears in his eyes, cheeks red and puffy.

· 'What's going on, Evan?'

· That's all it takes. He breaks. He babbles about watching Eddie die over and over in his dreams. How sometimes the shower will splash his face just so and he's thrown back with Eddie's blood on his face. How he was trying to get through it with Dr. Copeland but it wasn't helping.

· Nothing was helping.

· 'It's ok. I'm here, I'm okay.'

· 'You weren't. You died, Eds. You died on me.'

· 'You saved me.'

· 'What if I hadn't? I don't know a life without you anymore. I can't lose another person I love.'

· 'You love me?'

· 'Of course I do. Why wouldn't I?'

· Buck registers his words, quickly backing away from Eddie and tries to make a break for the open door. Eddie isn't letting him run away anymore. His wrist snakes around Buck's.

· 'Evan. I told you there wasn't anyone else I'd want to look after Christ. I told you you weren't expendable. I said that because I love you and you needed to hear it. You had to learn you deserved love. Love that Chris shows you. Love that I can show you. I love you so much, Evan Buckley.'

· Buck crumples in Eddie's arms, Eddie rocks him gently until the sobs subside.

· It's not an immediate or obvious change. There are still things the two need to work through.

· It's different but the same. There's more contact now; hugs, tactile hands on waists, and backs at work. Kisses in the bunk, soft and slow.

· It's new and exciting. Especially when they finally get together, officially and exclusively.

· Chris loves telling everyone about his two dads.

· Eddie and Buck are happier, closer.

· Buck had always been a Diaz. He'd always had a family who loved him. The big change was he got to love them both endlessly in return.

[tomtenadia]

Fire in her veins - a Island Dreams AU oneshot

So, yesterday Island Dream reached the amazing milestone of 5k hits on AO3. For me, it means the world especially because ID has a special place in my heart. It was my first long Rowaelin, set in a place that I adore. It’s more than just a story. It’s set in a part of Scotland that has completely stolen my heart.

So, to celebrate I asked for prompts and @whimsicallyreading​ gave me a brilliant one.

“Aelin accidentally distracts Rowan and their stove catches on fire 🥰 would be funny to see the ID crew interact with a Fire Department 🤣”

inspiration hit in an instant. This fic is set about three years after the epilogue. The twins are 7 and Dalamar is 4. The  story has a very Freyja-centred ending, mostly because she is my favourite. She is wild and fierce like her mother and she is funny.  (Don’t get me wrong I adore Morrigan and Dalamar too. They are calmer and adorable in their own way.)

If you are new to Island Dream you can find it HERE

Well, without much further ado I will leave you to the story.

Rowan had a busy day at work. The bookshop had become very popular in town and business was good especially since Aelin had convinced him a while before to set up an internet page and an online ordering system. It had taken a while to really kick in but now he was basically serving the whole of the Hebrides and he had started getting orders as well from some remote location on the western highlands. Aelin had been right. She was the one who had started his Facebook page after all. He hated the whole thing - he had even deleted the profile he had created for fun, but he could not deny that it was handy for business. He had started promoting his events, he had hosted some indie authors and also had started a reading club at the weekend. He was proud of the job he had done. And now, with his aunt he was working on another stage. Her cafe had been shut for a few months after the last bad storm and flooding had caused some heavy damage. So when the bill for repairs had come Maeve knew it was too much and had decided to close to the dismay of the locals who loved her cakes and food. But Rowan had come up with a plan. The unit next to his shop had been vacant for a while so, he offered his aunt a deal. She could reopen her cafe inside his bookshop and they could merge the two units together. It had taken some convincing but in the end Maeve had accepted and the works had officially started. 

Life was busy but he had never been happier. The twins were seven and were in P2 and Rowan could not believe how quickly they were growing up. Freyja was still as wild and school had been a challenge. She hated being forced to sit at a desk. Hated the uniform. Hated school, but apart from her rebel attitude, the teachers kept telling them that she was a bright pupil and both Rowan and Aelin relaxed. Morrigan, on the other hand was the opposite of her twin. She adored school and was still the quiet one in the family. Dalamar was still at nursery and was meant to start school the following year. 

On that day Evalin had picked up the kids and brought them to the shop, something they adored. Then Rowan had taken them to swimming practice. He had kept his part time job as swimming instructor and the kids had followed in his footsteps. The twins being older were taking proper swimming classes while Dalamar just joined the club for the wee ones and splashed happily in the water while his sisters learnt to swim. When Aelin was not busy at the hospital she would accompany them and play with Dalamar. 

Usually the swimming classes were enough to exhaust his kids that he could cook in peace while waiting for Aelin to get back. That evening she had texted him that they had a last minute emergency and was running late. 

He tried for the umpteenth time to concentrate on a recipe for the evening when Freyja barged in the kitchen running followed by her brother and screaming that a dragon was chasing her. 

Rowan grabbed his daughter and lifted her in his arms burying his face in her belly causing the girl to laugh hard “dad, the dragon” and wiggled in her father’s arms to get free but Rowan did not let go. He just walked to Dalamar and offered him his free arm “hop on, oh mighty dragon.” The boy grabbed his father’s forearm swinging like a monkey and Rowan walked into the living room, his daughter under one arms and his son swinging from the other like a jungle creature.

Morrigan joined the chaos a moment later. Rowan kneeled and she climbed on his back.

In that moment he heard the door of the house open and an instant later Aelin waltzed in the living room and saw her husband completely overwhelmed by their children. She laughed at the scene “what is happening in here?” Her hands on the hips.

“A dragon is following me.” Shouted Freyja, with still too much energy in her. 

“I am not a dragon, I am a monkey.” Replied Dalamar, swinging a bit more from Rowan’s arm.

“And what are you doing, Morrigan?”

“The dragon has burned the floor.”

Rowan moved to the sofa and started to deposit the kids down “come on, let dad cook dinner. And don’t shout too much, mum is tired.”

The kids slowly climbed down their father and went to greet Aelin who hugged them all “did you all had a nice day? Did you go swimming tonight?”

“Yes.” The two girls shouted “Dad taught us how to jump in head first.”

Rowan roared with laughter “and they still are two clumsy little terrors who smash their bellies.”

“Be careful with that.” Said Aelin in full doctor mode “that type of jump is very risky, they can snap their neck if do not enter correctly.”

Rowan took a step towards his wife and wrapped his arms around her “I know. I would never put our daughters in danger.”

“Good,” she gave him a chaste kiss “now let mum take a shower and dad cook?”

“Tha.” Replied the three kids in unison.

The kids climbed back on the carpet Dalamar going back to his bricks, Morrigan to her colouring book and Freyja just kept swinging her plastic sword fighting some imaginary monster. While Aelin disappeared in the bathroom, Rowan finally managed to get back to the kitchen and think about dinner. It was getting late for the kids and he knew they would soon start to become agitated again and start bellowing for food. He grabbed a towel and threw it on his shoulder and then started preparing the ingredients. He was preparing veggie burgers made out of cous cous and chickpeas. The kids loved them. He was the one who cooked the most in the house since his hours were far more reliable and he had been doing his best to cook healthy meals, to Aelin displeasure as she complained that there were always far to many vegetables in his dishes. But she was okay with the kids following a healthy diet. Morrigan was pescatarian. The girl could not stand eating meat and last time Rowan had tried to give her beef or chicken, the poor girl had been sick all night. Whereas fish, she loved it and she was a happy veggie eater like her father. Dalamar would occasionally eat meat but with very little enthusiasms whereas Freyja was just like her mother. She would eat anything on her plate.

He was busy preparing the patties when he felt Aelin’s hand around his waist and a gentle kiss on his back.

“How the shift at the hospital?” He asked while finishing the patties and heating up the oil in the pan.

“Long.” She sighed against his chest “your dear wife might need some adult cuddling tonight.”

Rowan laughed and turned in her arms, throwing his towel on the counter. A deep kiss that, after seven years of marriage still made her toes curl. Aelin’s hands linked behind his neck and Rowan pushed her against the island and Aelin moaned in appreciation.

Until all hell broke loose.

The smoke alarm pierced the quiet of the room with its grating sound and when Aelin opened her eyes again she saw a quickly spreading fire behind Rowan.

“Rowan!” She shouted.

He turned quickly and looked for something to stop the fire but he was paralysed and he knew enough that water was not an option.

Aelin was already on the phone with the emergency services while Rowan grabbed another towel and tried to smother the fire with the only result of burning his hand.

“Ro, fire department is on its way.” She took his hand “a bad first degree burn.”

He was about to go and put it under the sink but Aelin stopped him.

At the deafening sound, the kids burst in the kitchen but Aelin pushed them away, taking Rowan with her “Come on kids let’s go back to the carpet.”

Morrigan and Dalamar went in their mother arms scared by the commotion. Freyja was standing just near the sofa looking at the fire in the kitchen in a daze.

Rowan noticed her and grabbed his daughter in his arms, ignoring the searing pain in his hand “That is dangerous.”

“It’s pretty.” Said the little girl.

It wasn’t long after that the fire department arrived. 

A woman with blonde hair, who was clearly in charge gave some orders and the team had the fire out in no time.

“Is anyone hurt?” Asked her, joining the family in the living room.

“My husband. First degree burn on his hand.” Replied Aelin pointing at Rowan leaning against the back of the sofa.

The woman called over the radio for a paramedic and Rowan scoffed claiming that he did not need one but at Aelin glared at him and he shut up.

And while Morrigan and Dalamar were still on the carpet quite shaken by the ordeal, Freyja was moving toward the tall woman. She reached for the hem of her bunker gear and pulled, claiming attention.

“Hello little one.” Said the woman kneeling to be at eye level with the girl “There’s no more fire. We fixed it. You don’t have to be scared.”

Freyja pouted “I was not scared.”

The woman laughed and brushed her silver hair and the girl grinned.

“Are you a fire woman?” She asked, looking at the adult in front of her with deep admiration.

In that instant another woman and a man came through and gave her a report, the woman nodded and got back to the girl in front of her “Yes, I am.”

Freyja beamed “can I be a fire woman too?”

The fire captain placed her heavy hat on the girl’s head which was gigantic on her but Freyja shouted for her parents but Aelin was busy speaking to the man and her dad was in the capable hands of a paramedic who was tending to his hand.

“You can be anything you want to be.” Said the woman softly, taking her hat back then she stood and Freyja bent her head upwards to stare at the woman while she walked to her parents.

“There is some damage and you will have to replace the stove and probably paint the wall near it.” She explained “I would suggest to have a fire blanket and a small fire extinguisher for cooking oils. They can easily be found online and they are good to have in emergencies.”

“We will. Thank you so much.”

The woman nodded and left with her team, while the paramedic was finishing fixing up Rowan’s hand “Keep it clean and change the bandage regularly. There are ointments that you can use to help the healing process. If it gets worse make sure you go to the hospital.” Rowan looked at Aelin and grinned “thank you. My wife is an A&E doctor, I am sure she will keep me right.”

“That’s why she looks familiar. Western Isles hospital, isn’t it? You are Aelin.”

“Hi Sarah.”

 Once the house was quiet again Aelin relaxed for a moment and Rowan went to Morrigan and Dalamar while Freyja was still staring at the door where the fire department had left.

“What is it, my love?”

Freyja turned at her mother’s voice, her face beaming with unbridled joy. They were all shaken by the evening, but her fierce girl was actually smiling.

“That was a fire woman.”

“Yes, my darling.”

“I want to be a fire woman too.”

Aelin crouched down to meet her daughter’s eyes and brushed some hair off her face “you can be anything you want to be, mo chridhe.  Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

Freyja hugged her mother then ran to her father, sister and brother shouting that she was going to be a fire woman.

Rowan joined Aelin a moment later and pulled her to his chest “I am sorry.”

“For what?”

“I got distracted.”

Aelin lightly punched him in the chest “I am the one who distracted you.”

He sighed “we have no dinner.”

“I’ll phone mum and ask her if we can go to her place.”

Aelin disappeared and Rowan stood in the kitchen looking at the mess. The fire had quickly spread and a part of the counter was damaged too. Everything was covered in foam and wasn’t even sure if it was safe to use the oven. The patties lay like burned blobs at the side. 

Aelin came back a moment later “mum is happy to have us. She is probably making dinner already.” She tugged her husband “let’s go, buzzard. We’ll think about it tomorrow.”

Once they finished getting the kids ready they went back to their room “So, Freyja wants to be a firefighter. She was staring at the fire in marvel and was amazed at seeing the two women firefighters.”

Rowan pulled Aelin to his chest “She is fearless like you. She has fire in her. I can totally see her become a badass firefighter.”

Aelin hugged him back in silence.

“She is our wee fireheart.”

Twelve years later, when Freyja finished her training at the fire academy and was assigned at the firehouse in Stornoway Aelin and Rowan happily looked back at that night knowing that it had changed the life of their daughter and were never happier of a fire in their house.

[herstarburststories]

you and me and the devil makes three.

Pairings: Dean Winchester x reader, Demon!Dean Winchester x reader, past Lisa x Dean

Summary: Dean is a demon, he will take whatever he wants.

A/N: This got darker than I expected. I wanna make it clear I don't condone or engage with Dean's acts on this. This is my submission for @jawritter 's Make Me Cry Challenge. Congrats, honey! Hope you like it. Dividers by talesmanic and gif credit here

Prompt: I guess I should have been more like her.

Warnings: non consensual kissing, language, UNHEALTHY BEHAVIOR, non con (kissing and touching but no sex), dirty talk

Dean Winchester was a dreamer.

In the rawest way of the word, the meaning in the dust-collecting dictionaries and not the idealistic form. His eyelids shut close and, just like magic, Dean’s head was as haunted as the home he swore he’d never come back to in Kansas. The ghosts of the past, not ever so very friendly, coming to greet him at least three times per week. Sometimes they were happy films he could never starre in real life, his mom singing or a picnic with a lover saying that they needed to hurry up to get their kid at the baseball. The nightmares were sleepy visions of flesh and blood, mostly about his time underneath, Sam hurting, or his father spilling out his worst fears at his face. 

Maybe it was how the eldest Winchester’s brain compensated for the lack of bedtime tales and docile affairs growing up. The own way that his brittle soul discovered and molded not to let him collapse, or to always keep him on red alert. 

Good and bad deals are mostly a matter of which side you are betting your money on, really.

Because yeah, Dean did wake up feeling like he had shut his forest eyes briefly for twenty minutes instead of hours when he dreamed, but he also had never spent so long trapped in a better place. The green eyed hunter didn’t know which one was worse: the good dreams or the horrific ones. After all, he had went through all the atrocity and made it out alive, but the engulfed craving for light-hearted scenarios was suffocating. The hunter could never have it all. Trust him, he tried. Then, which is more agonizing: to have everything you ever wanted for a couple hours and have every scrap of it taken from you, or to undergo the calamity that accompanied your breaking point? 

Dean didn’t know, he didn’t even know what to tell Sam when he wondered what his brother had dreamt about to wake up sweating and screaming, all the light and stupid apple pie desires and the sharp brutality crawling out of the back of his mind. He made a joke, Megan Fox really liked knives, man. He kept it in, shoved down a good amount of alcohol, and mocked the worry of doing the lawn. Ready for another day. 

But now he was a demon, and apparently whatever he was made of - sulfur, cruelty, and black eyes under garden ones - wasn't worthy quiet reliefs in the middle of the night, or even frightening figments of memory. He became his worst dreams and all the dreams slipped beyond his reaches because of that. Demons, those unholy creatures, didn’t get the human peculiarities. You know what? Fine by him.

Who needed dreams when you don't need sleep, anyway? Even better: who needed dreams when you don't care about what you gotta do to put your greedy hands on the prize you had been eyeing for years? 

Dean Winchester was finally free. Free for the first time since he was a four years little boy who watched his mother burning with a terrorized expression, ironically mimicking the one Mary wore on the ceiling. His dad’s shouting for him to grab Sammy and run, take your little brother and run, echoing through years and years. There was never time for Dean, for his grief or his questions or whatever the child frozen in time under his rib cage could come up with. They said, stupid psychologists with their fancy degrees and malicious bartenders with a unfriendly grun under the counter who learned a little too much, everybody said that when someone was so traumatized as a kid, that person would tend to get frozen at that age. Therefore, how tremendously alleviating was to kill any reminiscing emotion of the whiny child he used to be. 

The kind of freedom that no traveler longed for; when one’s ruined and damaged enough not to care, and just take and take and take like hunger itself. Dean was an evil thing now, what else could he do but act on the figments of the worst intentions?

And feel so fucking good when doing that. 

‘’Where do you think he's going?’’ Your eyes raked over the street, darting between the asphalt under Baby’s wheels and Sam’s weary features.

‘’I don't know.’’ He sighed, attempting to organize his thoughts. Even as a demon, his brother wouldn’t just run miles and miles away by himself for no apparent reason. There had to be something you and Sam were missing out, some unseen clue or a hidden meaning. ‘’What the localizator says?’’

At least you had managed to put a tracker in his boots during your last encounter. Whatever Dean was thinking of starting there, you and Sam wouldn’t let him.

‘’Still Cicero, Indiana.’’ You sighed. Sammy furrowed his eyebrows, a long forgotten memory rising. ‘’What?’’

‘’We had a case there once years ago.’’ He explained, opting not to elaborate. Your and Dean’s relationship was troubled enough with his new self. Sam didn’t want to blow it up completely. His brother would need you once he came back to himself. The look on your face, though, reported how you weren’t buying his cheap excuses. The long haired hunter sighed. ‘’Did Dean ever tell you about that?’’

‘’No.’’

He stepped on the accelerator.

To find the woman was excruciatingly easy. The freckled demon couldn't believe he opened his computer many times and gave up before today. He glanced through the glass window and there she was, standing in all her glory with a body that seemed to forget how to grow old. Her tan skin still glowing, as appetizing as ever. Brown eyes shining so bright, tiny hands that always seemed to know where he wanted to be touched. She was laughing like there was no tomorrow, holding a glass of wine with one hand and her cellphone with the other, while her dark hair was falling so perfectly over her shoulder, like waves against the rocks in the sea.

Dean can’t wait to smell her again, to taste her, to prove her. His fingers were tingling, begging to touch what was his as he hopped off the car, walking towards the porch. He had been gone for a long time, but now he was back. 

He will destroy that quintessential, sequin woman so good.

The Winchester buckled in front of the white door, graced with the sound of the female giggle. Thin walls, he thought, those will be useful to make sure the neighbors know who’s back home. Her steps on the wood floor growing closer and closer as he heard a goodbye, probably aimed at whoever she was on the phone with. It was almost like the caramel skinned woman knew that whoever was on her doorstep wasn’t gonna be a hustled visitor. Or so the demon’s arranged mind said.

‘’Hey, Lis.’’ Dean’s voice lacked any cherishment as she opened the door, who would know that the absence of a soul wouldn't be gelid, just dry? As for her, Lisa’s face was drained of love. For all she was aware of, he was a stranger who knew her name. The male let out a chuckle empty of joy. She really didn’t remember, huh? ‘’Whoa. Cass really fucked up your head, huh? At least he did one thing right.’’

‘’Excuse me?’’ The man with dirty blonde hair and perfect teeth smelled like alcohol. She wasn’t having any of this tonight. ‘’Listen, I don’t know who you are and--’’

‘’Don’t worry.’’ He tranquilized her, although the lopsided grin on his lips held anything but good intentions. ‘’I’ll make you remember. I have a spell. You won’t believe how much you missed me.’’

The mocking laugh that left her lips utterly aggravated him. ‘’I don’t know you. Please leave or I’ll call the police.’’

Dean didn’t need a crowd for that part, a bratty woman in need of a firm hand should get a particular lesson. 

‘’You always liked a little cat and mouse.’’

Speaking of, the demon pushed the door wide open without any effort. Lisa jumped at the sudden move, every instinct inside her deciding that man was a threat and not some harmless wasted guy. Her body was quickly erect, thinking about ways to run and get help, but Dean swiftly pushed her to him and kicked the door closed-- her small figure collided to his chest.

Human savagery was cut in urban ways, molded to civilize the animalistic instincts. Imagine meat. A dead animal on a silver plate, and we couldn’t wait to chew every inch of it. We couldn’t wait to eat it, put that dead thing inside us and hope it’ll be enough to control the predatory hungry. Humans will always be animals, but so will be their rests that constructed the demons. 

Dean may not be a hunter anymore, but he’s still a predator who can't wait to taste his prey. He could small it, the fear in Lisa’s sweat making his mouth water. How much she tried to fight against him and scream other names when his was the only one he wanted her to need tonight. The resistance of a poor human barely made the monster shiver.

He closed his hands around her arms, throwing her against the wall like someone tossed an old toy away. There was no space for delicaly. In that moment, Dean Winchester was a tiger, a lion, the big bad wolf attacking the omega. Lis winced, her back hurting as her fibers. She couldn’t believe this was happening, that man was about to do something so terrible and disgusting to her in her own house, the place she was supposed to feel warm and safe. Why did he seem to know her? Why did he say she was gonna remember? Was he crazy, hallucinating, or drugged? Why was he so satisfied with how frightened her tiny body looked? How could she use all that information to somehow push him away?

‘’Let me go!’’ She demanded, her legs kicking the demon with ferocity. ‘’What’s wrong with you? LET ME GO NOW!’’

The brunette’s skilled body moved itself desperately, and the act of resistance only brought a hysterical laugh out of Dean. The wrong kind of goosebumps washed her skin, she had to run away for her life. This man was mad.

‘’FIRE! FIRE!’’ Lisa started to scream. Well-aware that people were most likely to come around and help a woman screaming if she said fire. ‘’THERE’S A FIRE. SOMEONE HELP ME!’’

One of his hands went to her neck, wrapping his fingers around it to shut her up. That was rubbing him off the wrong way. Lisa Braeden used to beg for his touch, how dared her not to want him anymore? Now that he was better, stronger, and thicker.

The brown eyed girl went quiet, probably scared by his brutal behavior. Dean smiled, a blood stained grin that carried mischief and pervertment. He licked the tears savoring the salty horror coming from her. Just like the day he was a vampire who almost gave in to drinking every drop of her luptuos blood. She may not remember but he did and he couldn't wait to get inside her, those tight walls squeezing his hard cock.

‘’You’re gonna do as I say, Lis. And I won't hurt you… Much.’’ He risped, crooked nose stroking her wet cheek. She whined. ‘’Don’t worry, honey. You loved it. Bet you’ll scream so much once I fuck you good.’’

‘’Please, don’t do it.’’ She begged as he coaxed his body against his. That man was stronger than her, she had no other choice but to plead to his human side. If only she knew.

‘’Begging already?’’ Dean lifted his head, smirking at her. Lisa just wanted to cry and close her eyes until everything was done. How could someone do that? ‘’I told you, don’t worry. I’m gonna make a lil’ spell that will give your memories back and you’ll remember everything. And then we’re gonna have so much fun, Lis.’’

His last murmur was finished with a kiss. A harsh, ruthless kiss. Actually, she wasn’t even sure if she could call it a kiss; teeth against each other, his vicious mouth pressed to her weakened lips, his tongue invading her like a robber and showing an unrequited dominance.

‘’Dean!’’ Your voice resonated stridently, louder than the door Sam had stormed open. You couldn’t believe what your eyes witnessed. ‘’Stop it!’’

Dean groaned, as if you and Sam were stepping on his territory. He simply turned his head to you two, not pulling away from Lisa. You couldn’t see her face, your boyfriend’s large shoulder and tall body covering her up. His eyes were still green, which set the scene in an even more atrocious light. 

Your thoughts were racing. How could he come to her, crave her so badly that he drove away miles and miles as a demon? He was supposed not to feel a thing. You prepared yourself for a cold man, not an obsessive one. Apparently, a heart hidden under the black smoke. Choose if it's a gift or Pandora's box. Sam told you their history. Of course he would want that and not you. Dean never left Lisa because he fell out of love for her, he was ripped out from her life. You were so pissed at yourself; how could you picture playing the woman in his veins? How stupid were you? He may be a demon guided by wants and not emotions, but what was love but an amount of outrageous desires laced up with some pretty words and flavored with dependency?

‘’Y/N and Sammy--’’

Love was the wrong word here. Anyway. Go head and unwrap it.

‘’Please help me!’’ Lisa’s voice came to life once more through her quiet cry. Dean hardened the hold around her throat, making her cough a little.

Suddenly, your body is frozen. That, whatever that is, whatever he’s doing to Lisa. It wasn’t love. She didn’t want it. When his frame moved to face you and Sam, you caught a glimpse of her face. She was petrified, her delicate features contorted in wrath and fear and beg for help.

‘’Quiet.’’ Dean howled, glancing at her rapidly before his eyes fell on you and Sam again. ‘’You two are such killjoys. I told you to let me go.’’

You couldn’t believe what you were witnessing. You wanted to puke your guts out.

‘’And what? Kill your ex? Or do something even worse to her?’’ You elicited with disgust.

‘’She’ll come around eventually. Just playing hard to get. You know how frisky women are.’’ The corner of his lips curved into a barbaric grim, one of his hands touching Lisa’s cheek. The victim winced at the touch. ‘’Besides, I’m not just gonna take her. I’ll make her remember and she’ll want me.’’ He shrugged, unbothered by the horrified looks of everyone in the room. ‘’Are you really worried about Lis, Y/N? Or are you just jealous that I didn’t go for you?’’

‘’Enough, Dean.’’ Sam groaned, holding the gun up. It felt oily. ‘’Let her go. And come with us.’’

The demon tossed the brunette away with a simple sleight of hand, pulling his sleeves up with a marred beam. His eyes switched from starry green to black, showing his true facette. It was a peculiar relief. It wasn’t Dean. It wasn’t Dean. It wasn’t Dean.

Yet, Dean’s gruff voice said in a twisted playful tone:

‘’Come get me, Sammy.’’

Dean Winchester was cured. For most people, to heal is to let go or to learn with things. In the doctor’s case, healing is leaving a bruise to cover up a wound. Everyone believed the war started and ended, and that was it. But when something so ravaging is gone, you gotta deal with the trauma.

He was a trauma. Cured from a sickness, drowning in sorrow and waves of woe. All the worst things Dean ever did, he knew now, weren’t to himself or to the monster he so proudly killed. His unspoken acts were against the people he cared about.

The hunter never thought his hands, his bruised and tough hands could ever hurt Lis. The woman who was his lifeline when Sam died, who allowed him to be a father and live in his dreamland of suburban life. All she ever did was to love him, and what did she get for it?

He was disgusted with himself. What almost did to her was enough to hunt him and make him sure he was going back to hell, very deserving this time. Threating to do that to a woman, and enjoy it… Dean couldn’t bear driving into memories. He was selfishly glad he didn’t remember about that, only Sam’s explanation was enough: he went to Lisa, he kissed her without her consent, and Sam and you stopped him going any further. Would his unscrupulous, demon self go ahead? He was too scared to wonder, even though his brother said that he apparently had a spell to make Lis remember and wasn’t planning on just taking her. A forced kiss was disgusting enough. He just wished Sam had put a bullet in his black eyes right there.

You walked in the bathroom that you once shared with the eldest Winchester

She was everything he ever wanted, all the suburban dreams and acceptance of hunter reality without being in it. Lisa loved him completely and you could only love him sideways-- you never wanted to be a mom, or to have a family or live in a suburb. Those were valid goals, just not yours. You thought you and Dean were on the same page about it, but this other side, not only the pervert demon but the domestic man, hadn’t been shown to you until a couple days ago. Sam had cured his brother, his dirty nature washed away with holy water, but you couldn’t help the bruises that came from the dog days. Lisa had her memory erased by Cass again, you didn’t have the same unfair luxury.

‘’Dean.’’ You said, making him look up at you. Bags under his eyes and wrinkles more evident than ever. ‘’We need to talk.’’

He sighed and wiped his face. ‘’Y/N, I don’t want to talk right now.’’

‘’You never do.’’ You scoffed, gaining an incredulous glance from him. ‘’I know that what happened was disgusting and sick and the worst thing you could ever do, but we need to talk.’’

He took a deep breath. ‘’What do you wanna talk about?’’

‘’You went to her.’’ You stated as a lawyer in front of a jury. Dean furrowed.

‘’What?’’

‘’Lisa. You went to her.’’ When the arrow hit someone so damaged, it was like an animal with his teeth there that wouldn't let go. Yeah, his human soul wasn't the same brittle glass as before but it lingered in his demon self in the shape of delusion, and it was distorted by whatever he was made of, violence and darkness, and turned into something disgusting. ‘’You love her.’’

‘’Love?’’ The word burned his tongue, Dean didn’t think he had the right to ever use it again. ‘’I was a demon, Y/N. I didn’t love or feel anything. What I did--’’

‘’You didn’t do anything.’’ You interrupted, loyal as a soldier.

‘’I forced a kiss on her and wanted to bring her memories back to have sex with her. That’s disgusting and I did half of that.’’ He pointed out aggitadly, plump lips moving fast and voice deeper. ‘’It wasn’t love. Leaving her years back was love.’’

You didn’t miss how Dean didn’t even dare to say her name. ‘’So you don’t think about her? Not even once?’’

He scoffed humourless. ‘’Are you kidding me?’’

‘’I guess I should have been more like her.’’ You hugged yourself, glancing at the wall. You didn’t want to cry in front of him. Not again, not for another woman. That wasn’t even your cicatrix to ache. 

‘’Y/N, what the fuck are you talking about?’’ The fully green eyed man raised to his feet, glancing at you with disbelief. He couldn’t face how messed up it was. ‘’I can’t believe you are jealous of what happened. I thought I was the broken one here.’’

‘’I’m not her.’’ You two shared it, the glance that only two women who were hurt by the same man could. You both understood that when he got inside you, it was like the syringe in an eutanasia. Once you were happy because you loved him, now you were scared and not so sure this was what you wanted. ‘’I’m not her and you knew it. When you became just instincts and selfish and did whatever you wanted, you didn’t come to me. You came to her.’’

‘’I hurt her.’’

The next words fly out of your mouth, as weak and totaled as you felt: ‘’Why didn’t you hurt me?’’

‘’This is the most unhealthy shit we ever went through.’’ Dean’s right. You have her expression mesmerized on your brain. Dean was the man on top of her, teaching her how to hate. How to fear. You can’t trust yourself. ‘’I can’t believe you.’’

‘’Neither can I.’’ You were so sick. How ravaged and annihilated one had to be to wish to be a demon's object of obsession? To get jealous that another woman almost died in the arms of a beast that cried his blood out once he came back to being a man and saw what he had done? ‘’I hate it. I hate feeling like this. I was there and I saw how scared of you she was, how all she wanted was to push you away and run because she was so disgusted--’’

‘’Stop.’’ He groaned, but it came out more like a whine than anything. ‘’It wasn’t me. I would never hurt Lis. I would never force her to do anything! I--’’

You gave him a sad smile. ‘’You love her.’’

‘’I love you.’’ Dean approached you, fumbling in despair to fix yet another thing his hands destroyed. If Rome was built in ruins, he was a kingdom. You pulled away before his tough hands landed on you.

‘’But you love her too.’’ The hunter stopped on his spot, unable to answer. ‘’I ruined myself for you, Dean. I can’t-- I won’t do that again. You are right. This is unhealthy. The fact that you’ve been pining for her for so long, pushing down those feelings to the point they are twisted into something so cruel and disgusting. You need help.’’ What kind of ugly you have to have inside you for a monster to love you? And, even worse, what kind of sickness you have trapped, written in your blood to want it to be spilled out in his name? ‘’You really are venom. If this is how you love, it’s scary as fuck.’’ When you loved a broken man, you were never sure if his shattered pieces would glisten or cut your hand once the light came in. Here’s your answer. His parts crawled inside you through pulled up scars, scraping your insides to make into ruins, but you never liked Rome much. You had to be better than that. ‘’Goodbye, Dean.’’

He couldn’t bring himself to go after your steps.

Once again, it’s the kind of freedom no traveler wants. When you lost it all and didn't have any person or place to cling to, when you had to leave because you were becoming the girl you swore you’d never leave, when you walked away willingly without a map.

Still, it was all you had. You’d make a good use of it. You’d be okay. No more ugly emotions or sentiments that made you unrecognizable. No more knives that cut both ways, or situations so complicated you weren’t sure where your morals could rely on.

You’d be okay, healthy, and happy.

You’d be okay.

Comment & reblog. Feedback is magic! Check my masterlist ♡ Tags in reblog!

[redridinnghood]

How should I call it?💕 Part 1

Hello There,

I'm Back with a new Story, Story will contain more parts and be a bit slow burn.

You meet a man with a Addiction and other Problems. For example he doesn't have any Impulse Control. Can you work it out? Can you help him heal? Or will he be your End?

What happens when you meet a certain Chaotic blonde?

Polyam relationship between Rafe, JJ and Reader. Don't like, don't read.

(Y/N Pov)

The first time I met him it was a late Summer Night. Met is the wrong word, I found him lying in an Back alley behind some Fancy Club.

He was clearly under the Influence of some Drugs and Probably Drunk as Fuck. But I couldn´t just leave him there like that at three in the morning. Should I call an Ambulance? Shit but I couldn´t risk it to pay for it. On the other Hand he needed defiantly help. I let out a deep sigh. Y/N how do you get yourself always in such situations? Leaning down I check his pulse, it´s fast but not dangerously fast. His skin is hot nearly Burning and his breathing is uneven.

Gently I stroke his head. ”Hey Man wake up, you shouldn´t sleep here it’s Dangerous.” My Voice is soft, I know how People under the Influence can act out. He just slightly lifted his head he tried looking at me, he failed his Head rolled Back. His Long limbs splattering out on the Pavement. Dam it! “Can I call someone to pick you up?” Voice still soft. He shook his head slightly. No. “Okay that’s not a big Deal do you live anywhere near here? I could call you an Uber and bring you there.” My Voice sounded a little more desperate. He blinked slowly. “No..” his Voice was raspy and sounded worn out.

Again I sighed deep. I held my Hand out for him, “Come on Big Boy, you can crash at my place but I can´t carry you so you need to help me a little bit.” He blinked Again slowly he reached out to take my hand. As I got a grip I pulled him up at first into a sitting Position, scared he might throw up. I waited a few seconds than I helped him up on his feet. He stumbled into me but I managed to help him stay Upright.

He groaned, he was distressed, his Head spun and he is pretty worn out. Yeah I know how it feels being slightly overdosed, not from my own experience but from a few people I grew up with.

His body felt Hot and I could feel his shirt being drenched in his own sweat. He needed a shower and to take of his drenched clothes. Slowly I made my way towards the big Apartment complex dragging him with me. Thank God it wasn´t far away, finally we reached the building climbing up some stairs.

As I put my Keys into the door I felt him clinging to me as if his life depended on it. It kind of did, I mean this neighborhood isn´t peaceful. Isn´t good to people who fall asleep on the pavement. After a few moments of struggling with the door it finally opened. Gosh when will the Landlord finally repair those fucking doors. Carefully they made their Way into the small apartment. I placed him on the couch.

“Alright Big Boy, can you tell me your Name?” Voice Soft but louder than before. Blue eyes with giant orbs fixated me, Truthfully he was quite Handsome. “Rafe” I heard his hoarse Voice. “Okay” I smiled a little. “We need to get you out of those dirty Clothes. It would be best if you would take a Quick Cold Shower.” He nodded absently. I walked out of the small living room into my Bedroom, searching for a few clothes my best friend Luca always left here. It were just a pair of gray shorts and an old Band Shirt but that would do it, Just in case I put a pair of Boxer in the pile. Since Luca wouldn´t wear them again I could throw them Away. I walked back into the Living room handing him the Clothes.

“Here take those, and there is the Bathroom. It´s nothing special.” He nodded and took the clothes. Slowly like in slow motion he got up steading himself on the couch. Than he reached for the wall because he started stumbling a bit. “Don´t look the door in Case you faint and keep in Mind it should be a cold shower.” I said loud enough so he could hear me but not loud enough to be shouting. When I heard the Water in the shower I started preparing the couch for him. After I prepared the Couch I filled a big Cup with water and placed it on the small Table. I made myself a tea and waited in the Kitchen area for him to finish. As he walked by I could just confirm my statement.

He was Handsome, beautiful Face with storming blue Eyes, he was Tall and had Dirty Blonde hair. When he spotted me he looked at me intensely. I just smiled “You are ready, that’s good I prepared the Couch for you and some Water. I will hop in the shower next If you want I can throw your clothes into the washing machine.” He looked at me and nodded I took a deep inhale. “I hope the cold shower lifted the fog a little bit of your mind.” His Gaze softened. “Yes, thank you” his voice was still cracking and the small smile he gave me didn´t quite reach his eyes.

Giving him a small nod I disappeared into my small Bathroom. The old blue tiles were still a bit wet I looked around and found his small pile of clothes throwing it into the Machine with my clothes. Turning her on, on a short Program so she would be ready in 20 minutes. As I stepped into my shower letting the Hot water embrace me. So I started thinking. He doesn´t Look Poor, his clothes seem to be pretty expensive. So what is he doing here? And why did I help him, I mean yeah I couldn´t just left him there I mean I could have. Why didn´t I just called the Police? It didn´t matter anymore he would crash here tonight and be gone tomorrow. Leaving the shower I hop into an old shirt and some panties hanging up the freshly washed clothes.

As quietly as possible I walk down the apartment into the bedroom. Soft snores coming from the Man, so I stop and look at him. The way the slow sunrise aluminates his Body makes him look so peaceful so out of a fairytale. Realizing that I just stared at a Stranger while he slept I quickly kept going. Carefully I lay down in my Bed, its full of Pillows and I have a few Books laid out on the other side. Sleep came faster than expected.

 

(Rafe Pov)

A soft humming sound wakes me gently I open my Eyes. Where am I? This is not the new Mansion? Not the Hotel where I usually stay when I go out.

It´s a small living room with a weird combination of furniture but it looks Good. Kind of. It seems cozy. Slowly I sit up stretching out. Wait those are not my Clothes. What the actual fu…

“Good Morning Big Boy” I hear a soft Voice. Why does it sound so angelic? Turning around I spot a Young girl in the Kitchenette. It´s probably her apartment.

“Want some coffee?” she asks while turning around grabbing a cup. “Sure” I reply while standing up and walking towards her. As I reach her she hands me a Baby Blue Mug with Puppy´s on it. Really?

She smiles, a smile so pure I never seen before. “thanks” I answer as I take the Mug. “Milk is in the Fridge and Sugar there.” She points at a small Container. “You want some Breakfast? I suppose after your consumptions yesterday you are pretty Hungry.” She asks while I pour some sugar in the Mug. “ This would be really nice.” I give her a small smile. My Memories of yesterday are coming back slowly. Why did she take Me in? Rafe takes a moment to Look at her, really look an her.

She is small around 5`3 her (Y/H/C) is tied in a lose ponytail her Skin looks so smooth and her (Y/E/C) are trained on the food she´s making. She is not skinny but also Fat, She´s just Beautiful.

But at the same time I´m  concerned, why did she took a stranger in? What if I had Lashed out on her? “ Thank you for Yesterday. I.. Honestly I´m really grateful but you could have gotten Hurt.” I swallow the Lump in my throat. “I could have Lashed out on you or something.” She hands me a plate with scrambled Eggs and some Toast. “Come let’s sit down and eat.” She just rounds me and sits down on the couch placing her plate on the small table and mentioning me to sit back down where I slept the last night. I obliged.

“Listen I´m Fine and that’s all that counts. You didn´t Lash out. You didn´t hurt me. And I couldn´t let you stay there.” Her Voice was genuine. It feels weird having someone so lovely not fearing me. Everyone fears me. “I.. Thank you.” I was dumbfounded she was right and I shouldn´t think about what if´s. Peacefully she sits next to me eating her Breakfast so I also start eating.

And oh my I never thought scrambled Eggs could taste so good. “This really good.” I smile at her, and she smile´s Back. “Thanks” she mumbles, she is cute.

Than it struck me I don´t even know her Name. “Hey.. um.. I think you didn´t tell me your Name…so.. What is your Name?” Why am I so Nervous. “ (Y/N). My Name is (Y/N)” I felt like my Heart skipped a beat the way she smiled and how soft her voice was. We ate the rest of our Breakfast in silence. It´s weird but I didn´t want this moment to end. I don´t know when it was the last time I felt so at ease. So content with myself. After Breakfast she handed me my Clothes and I changed. When it´s time to say goodbye and go our separate ways I find longing for staying. As if she could read my mind she hands me a small piece of paper. Confused I Look at her. “My Number. In case you need anything like a place to crash or something. Or just want to talk. I´m here.” Her gentle smile mesmerizes me and I can´t help it but embrace her in my arms hugging her. Carefully or she might break. “Thank you so much. I will defiantly reach out to you.” I say a little to enthuasstic. When I realise hear I hear a small giggle. I´m making my way down the stairs notifying my Dad I won´t be home for a few Days. Then massaging my dealer that I need some new Stuff.

After that I stare at the small pice of Paper, alright nothing to lose. It's late when I send her a Message, just a basic Hi.

[wannabemobwife]

Guns, Glamour and Goodfellas - Chapter 16

Chapter 16: Things We Supposedly Lost in the Fire

Dad!Mob!Tom x Mom!Mob!Reader

-Pairings: Tom Holland x Reader, Rosie Holland x Henry Osterfield

-Warnings: Grief, barely suicidal thoughts, fire

-Words: 4K

Author note: Tom and Y/N don’t really age, I think of them as like Barbie and Ken, never aging. Final chapter will be up tonight around 9-10 PM PST. Sorry for the wait, you guys are so patient. Love ya.

Chapter 16: Things We Supposedly Lost in the Fire

Words: 4K

There you were, standing alongside your husband, daughter and friend as the building before your eyes erupted in a blaze. Smashing windows as the remaining members of Wilson’s mob, funneled their way out of the burning warehouse. Coughing up all the inhaled smoke.

One by one, people bursted out of the doors gasping for fresh air. Their lungs constricted from the dark ash that bled through the sky. You just stood there, next to your family, taking in the sight before you. As sirens rang through the air

The smoke and flames kept raging on, but there was still no sign of Parker.

That was 5 days ago. Now, you were in the present, trying to survive. The fire that took 3 days to put out, claimed the lives of your son Parker, Carter Wilson and multiple men.

Everyone was dealing with Parker’s demise differently. Harrison and Henry had so generously offered to stay with all of you for the time being. You took them up on that.

You refused to leave your room for a week, barely acknowledging Tom and Rosie. Tom would try to get some reaction from you, but you would lay there, catatonic. Oblivious to the outside world. Maybe coming down for a cup of coffee but then heading straight up back to your room.

Parker was your baby boy, words couldn’t express how you were feeling. A piece of you was missing.

You would walk down stairs and catch a glimpse of all the photographs perched everywhere, showcasing you, Tom, Rosie and Parker’s greatest moments. Everything reminded you of him.

The car keys flooded back memories of first teaching him how to drive. You were so scared. Every parent feels the same but it is hard to relinquish control of your car and put your life in someone else’s hands. You would flinch anytime he broke a little too hard. Always pushing on your imaginary brake.

“Ok, now put the car in drive. Make sure you keep your foot on the brake.” You began, instructing Parker how to drive.

You thought it be best if Tom taught Rosie and you taught Parker how to drive. You didn’t need twice the amount of heart attacks. “Ok, what next?” Parker asked after shifting from park gear to drive gear. Or so he thought.

“Give it a little gas now.” “Ok….” Parker barely touched the accelerator and the car shot backwards.

“PARKER! AAAAHHHHH!” You screamed as he lost control of the car. He slammed so hard on the brake, sending you flying into the dashboard. Your head knocked into the front, instantly creating a splitting headache.

“Oh, mom are you okay?” Parker questioned, preparing himself for your outburst.

“No, switch seats I’m driving home. That’s enough for today. The problem was you were in reverse and you hit the brake way too hard.” You explained with a calm voice, inside you were seething with anger. Pressing your hand to your head to try and subside your head.

“How did I know R stood for reverse, it could have been the R in drive?” Parker mocked sarcastically. “Honey, I love you but your dad is going to teach you from now on.”

You drove home safely and immediately went to the kitchen for an ice pack. Your head was throbbing. Tom greeted you, he was reading in the living room.

“How did the first lesson go?” Tom asked, noticing the scowl with adorned your face.

“Why don’t you ask Parker?” You snapped, pressing the cool ice pack to the soon to be bump on your head.

“Ok.… Parker any idea what your mom is talking about?” Tom inquired, knowing to not press you with anymore questions.

“I may have gone a little too fast and slammed on the brake,” Parker mumbled

“There’s more to that story,” you barked. Of course Parker was leaving the part of going in reverse instead of drive.

“I may have picked the wrong gear…” Parker divulged.

“HE WAS IN REVERSE!! NOT DRIVE!!” You shouted.

“Oh—“ Tom started to say but was cut off by you again.

“And then when he braked, he stopped so hard my head hit the dashboard.” You explaining, throwing your hands up in fury to point at your head. Tom started to chuckle. He tried to suppress a laugh but you were not having it.

“Are you laughing?” You thundered.

“Umm… no.” Tom’s entire expression totally changed as he saw the daggers you were shooting him.

“Tom, it’s not funny. Our son doesn’t know the difference between drive and reverse.”

“Guys, I’m still right here.” Parker chimed in as you spoke of him as if he wasn’t in the room.

“SAY SOMETHING!” You snapped at Tom’s defeating silence.

“Parker be more careful next time.” Tom explained to Parker.

“That’s it? Seriously?… Next time, you drive with him and you will feel my frustration and pain.” You sighed, giving up on this fight.

Life was so much simpler then, you were just trying to raise two wonderful kids. Helping them along the path of life, but there are always detours. You never expected life to have this many bumps. You especially didn’t expect your son to not live a full life. One full of wonder and joy.

Tom had his own way of mourning. He began to relish in his kills, channeling all his emotion into running the mob. Spending night after night bashing in skulls. Coming home with blood drenched clothes.

You understood everyone worked through their grief differently but his way seemed unhealthy. Tom had a few quarrels with anyone associated with the Wilson mob. He blamed them for the death of Parker.

Tom was currently, in his warehouse torturing some poor sap who was a well known capo of the Wilsons. “Tom, give it up. He’s not going to talk,” Haz told Tom as the continued to torture one of Wilson’s soldiers in front of him.

Carter had died along with Parker in the fire and Tom didn’t really know who the new leader was. All he knew is that he still wanted revenge.

“He���s right, you should just kill me. I know to keep my mouth shut unlike your dead son,” the soldier barked, warranting a swift strike to the jaw.

“Don’t you ever fucking mention him again. Your leader killed him. I should do the same to you to receive a smidge of compensation,” Tom snarled as he wrapped his hands around his throat, cutting off his airway completely.

“Tom, come on. He’s not worth it. Let him go,” Haz pleaded as the man started to turn blue.

“Haz, I can’t. How can I let him walk free, when he is the reason Parker is dead?” Tom explained, loosening his hands.

“That was Carter, not some menial soldier. He probably has a family like you,” Harrison talked Tom down.

“You’re free to go,” Haz concluded as he untied the poor man in front of them. He bolted for the door as quick as possible.

“Haz, I can’t do this. I need Parker here. He was supposed to be doing this. Not me… I feels unreal how much I miss him,” Tom cried.

“I know. We all miss him.”

“I couldn’t even protect my own son. Do you get that? And this can’t be the end. I can’t just move on, knowing I’m supposed to bury him tomorrow,” Tom swore.

“Tom, it will get better,” Harrison consoled him.

“How? I can’t just have an open ended statement. I need a solution. Something to fix this ache in my heart. How can I make this pain go away?” Tom pleaded.

“Tom, there is no answer. You just have to try and work through your grief and eventually move forward.”

“You know, Parker asked me the same thing right after Charlotte died. He needed the pain of her death to be lifted from his shoulders. I told him he needed time, but I lied. I knew he could never move on. That this would stick with him for years to come. That’s how I feel right now. There is no remedy except trying to make those bastards pay. Can you let me do that?” Tom exclaimed.

“Tom, I… yes, I can. Only because I know that is what you need right now. Someone to have your back. And I promise I always will.” Harrison tried to comfort his grieving friend but it was hard. Hard to explain to Tom that it only seemed like his world was ending.

That night Tom came into your shared room looking half dead. He had black eye and bruises that littered all over his body. From that moment you knew you both couldn’t keep living like this. You couldn’t keep shoving down your feelings and refusing to face the world, same with Tom but instead of shutting people out the was instigating fights left and right.

“Tom, I need to talk to you,” you sighed as Tom entered the room

“Yes, baby. Anything. I’m just happy to hear your voice,” Tom replied, surprised you were speaking to him. This was his first verbal conversation with you in days.

“We need to make a change, we can’t keep living like this. It isn’t healthy,” you began but was faced with a heart broken Tom.

“Y/N, don’t say that please,” Tom pleaded.

“Tom, we aren’t moving forward. We’re stuck.”

“No, Y/N we can move on from this. Please don’t leave me.”

“What? Tom, I would never. I need you more than you need me,” you questioned.

“Seriously doubt that. Baby please don’t scare me like that again. If I don’t have you. I don’t have anything,” Tom whispered as he came to your side, wrapping his arms around you.

“Tom, you’ll always have me. But what I was meaning to talk about is, I think you need to step away from the mob for a while. You aren’t dealing with losing Parker healthily. Killing people for sport doesn’t help process your pain.” You said, trying to fight back the tears.

“Y/N, I’m not ready to accept it. He can’t be gone. Our son can’t be gone,” Tom cried out.

“Tom, I’ve been feeling the same way. Instead of working through our grief together, we’ve been fighting our own battles and it is doing more damage than good. I’m drowning here, I need you. I need you next to my side to help me through this because I wake up most mornings and have thoughts that I should never think about. Like I don’t want to live this life anymore or live at all.”

“Love, I didn’t know. Y/N, I don’t ever want you feeling that way.”

“I know but I don’t want to feel this way either. We need to get away. Eventually far from the mob, maybe travel like you always wanted to,” you sniffled, wiping away tears.

“Y/N, you know I want that but, I can’t just leave. Our life is here,” Tom explained.

“I’m not saying now. But I can’t live out my days in this house, all I see is him and everything that we’ve lost. I can’t do it anymore. It’s killing me. Don’t you see that? I need to know that we will have our happy ending somewhere other than here. Once Rosie has graduated. In three years, we leave. Please give me that, you pleaded.

“Y/N, I promise. In 3 years we can start our happily ever after.” Tom agreed. You finally had a date in mind. You needed to find happiness somewhere else that wasn’t tainted with Parker’s memory.

Everyone was suffering, Rosie however was very good at hiding it. She was the rock when Parker passed. She knew if the roles were reversed, Parker would be there for everyone.

She threw herself in the mob and other aspects, refusing to let herself break down like the rest of her family. She was mostly consoling Henry. Henry had a hard time adjusting to life without his best friend. He tried to be strong for Rosie but nights she would find him crying himself to sleep.

“Are you coming to bed?” Rosie asked as Henry was held up in living room.

“I don’t think so just yet, I have to finish this,” Henry sighed in frustration, while lounging on the couch.

“What is it?” Rosie asked, coming over to snuggle with him.

“Parker’s eulogy. Did you finish your’s?”

“Umm, yeah I did.” Rosie responded, in reality she hadn’t even thought about it. Planning on making it up as she went tomorrow.

“It’s just killing me. To actually think of him as gone, especially because of tomorrow. I’m not ready to say goodbye,” Henry cried, trying to fight back tears.

“I know. I miss him too,” Rosie responded. Henry started breaking into a fit of sobs and Rosie moved to comfort him. “It’s okay, I’m here.”

“Why are you not sadder? I haven’t once seen you break down, like everyone else,” Henry sniffled.

“I don’t know, maybe I just went through the stages of grief quicker. I’ve already accepted it.”

“Ok well, glad you aren’t as sad as me. Then we would have two blubbering messes. I know this probably a huge turn off,” Henry muttered, stopping to blow his nose. She chuckled in response but Rosie knew something was off. She shed a few tears looking at the building blazing that night but she hadn’t cried since.

Quickly changing the subject to not seem like a heartless wrench she asked. “What are you writing about? Can I have a sneak peek?”

“That’s the hard part, I was trying to think of a story about Parker and I’s friendship but I keep coming up blank. Either he wasn’t actually my best friend or I’ve just repressed all memories about him.”

“Oh baby—,“

“It’s ok. I’m okay.… I’m sorry Roo, but could you help me?”

“Of course, what do you have so far?” “I have the title “Parker’s eulogy,” and that’s it,” Henry said, reading off the words written on the paper he had been staring at for an hour.

“Oh okay, well. Maybe you should talk about a funny story between the two of you.”

“Ok, I have one. Once upon a time…”

“Henry, you can’t start a eulogy with once upon a time.”

“You didn’t let me finish, once upon a time I met this boy and he had the most adorable, and at the same time, beautiful sister. She is so perfect in so many ways. I grew hopelessly in love with her. To this day I still am.”

“Aww, as much as I love that story it barely mentions Parker.”

“Roo, it’s too hard. I can’t sit here and reminisce all the times we spent together. I can’t write down stories that I’ve already lived. I can’t tell them to others and start referring to him as a ‘was’ and not a ‘is’. I’m not capable of telling the story of how one year where both our families went skiing, Parker and I snuck on a black diamond slope without permission and both ended up with a broken leg. Or the story of how I knew Parker and I would be best friends forever, I shouldn’t be the only one telling it, he should be here too. It’s not fair. Why could’ve it been me?”

“Henry, don’t say that. I don’t know what I’d do without you. But that seems like a good anecdote, write about that.”

“Rosie, you don’t get it. I can’t, I physically can’t do it… I’m sorry but I don’t understand why you aren’t sad. It’s weird. My best friend is dead and the weird part is that HE WAS YOUR BROTHER and you don’t even seem the least bit bothered by it,” Henry thundered, his sad voice morphing into an accusatory one. “Sorry, I was just trying to help…. I’ll see you tomorrow, night.” Rosie finished quickly excusing herself without so much as a goodnight kiss. She knew Henry was going through something but he didn’t have to take it out on her. She quickly made her way to bed and waited for the next day to come.

The day no one was actually prepared for.

The day of Parker’s funeral. Everyone’s final goodbye to your son.

Everyone managed to dress appropriately, in all black to symbolize your mourning. The day however was rather beautiful, a bright blue streaked across ever corner of the sky. Not a single cloud in sight, which was near impossible thing in London. Parker would’ve loved a day like this. For one he wouldn’t be at a funeral, especially not his own. He would be at the beach or going for a bike ride under the gorgeous sun.

The weather kind of taunted you. How dare the day be beautiful the day you bury your son. You knew it was silly but it felt like a cosmic joke of some sorts.

People started gathering at the cemetery. Nikki, Dom, Harry, Sam and Paddy were already there to help you and everyone else get through that day.

Nikki was mostly concerned with helping Rosie. She knew you had been a little checked out lately, no fault of your own, you were grieving. Nikki just wanted to make sure Rosie was dealing with her emotions, not shoving them aside.

“Rosie, I understand if the eulogy will be too hard. I can read it for you,” Nikki offered, catching a glance of Rosie going over he eulogy underneath a tree. “No, it’s ok. I should be the one to do it,” Rosie exclaimed.

“Parker would understand. All your emotions couldn’t be more valid. Have you allowed yourself to cry over him yet?” “Don’t worry I did. Odd question though, thought you’d be wanting me to be strong. I have been for everyone else.” “Rosie, you don’t have to with me. I’m here for you, flower.”

“I’m fine grandma, I should check on mom.”

“It’s okay, I’ll send Harry,” Nikki concluded, grabbing her phone to shoot Harry a text.

“Mom, I gonna get Y/N to eat something” Harry said, calling out to Nikki.

“Really, how?” “I came prepared. Granted it is only chocolate but baby steps. How’s Rosie? Is she freaking out about the eulogy?”

“She says she can handle it. I believe her. I just don’t know where that girl got all her strength. Certainly not from us.”

“I have a clue…” Harry explained, his eyes wandering to you sitting in the front row.

“Come on, the proceedings are about to start.” Nikki said, pulling her son to meet everyone else, atop the small hill.

The person officiating the ceremony was standing behind a chestnut colored casket, about to be lowered into the ground. There were 3 chairs, for you, Tom, and Rosie. Everyone else stood as they witnessed Parker be lowered into his final resting place.

Tears manage to fall throughout the entire day, but they came more frequently as Rosie stood up to deliver her eulogy. Rosie somberly walked near the casket, passing the dozens of roses on top. She was clutching to her note cards, her guideline to the hardest goodbye ever.

“My brother was the greatest person I ever knew. He had already dealt with so much loss, it is unfair that we are gathered here today to mourn him. I’ve been trying to think of what to say, maybe an amusing anecdote or embarrassing story. Maybe one where he demonstrated bravery. But I think I’ll just say what all of us having been thinking. It feels unreal that he is gone. He was my twin and I can honestly say not having him beside me, feels like a piece of me is missing.” Rosie began, fighting back the urge to cry.

“He would always manage to bring a smile to my face even the darkest of times. I’ve celebrated every birthday with him, every school event, my entire life with him. We were supposed to be the same age till the end of time together. I miss him more than I can bare but we have a chance to honor him and not mourn, it is what he would have wanted. My brother was always there for me, especially at my weakest. From carrying me into the house after I fell on my tricycle and skinned my knee to comforting me with cupcakes and ice cream after a break up. We all need that person in our lives. And Parker was my anchor, my savior and my best friend. If you have that person now, please give them a reminder of how much you love them. Parker and I both know I should I’ve said more often, he the same. I’m sorry P. And with this flower, I finally say goodbye to my guide post, my better half, my brother. We will always miss you.” Rosie finished and quickly wiped the tears that had fallen with the back of her hand.

She glanced over at you, bailing into Tom’s shoulder. Her words moved you to a whole other level of grief. This whole time you had been grieving for yourself. It’s not selfish, but you realized just how bad everyone else was hurting.

After the funeral, everyone made it back to the manor for the reception. Hors d’oeuvres made their way around to guests, conveniently managing to skip you. Harry was still getting on your nerves, hoping you’d eat something.

Harry would constantly bring food beneath your nose, waving an assortment of healthy snacks and candy in front of your face. He was determined to get you to eat something even if chocolate melted in his suit pockets.

“Hey, Y/N/N. How are you holding up?” Harry asked, finding you staring blankly into space. “I’ve definitely been better,” you responded, chuckling at your current state.

“Y/N, can you please eat something?” Harry asked, shoved food in your face. “I’m fine, thank you though,” you blatantly stated, probably for the tenth time.

“Come on, I have your favorite,” Harry smirked. “You have MnM’s?” you quipped, your ears perking up.

“Yes…”

“Ok give them to me.” You nearly lunged to grab the bag from his hands. In truth you had been starving yourself, you were hungry but couldn’t find the will to eat. Sweets were sure better than the fancy finger food your cook was serving.

Everyone else seemed to be within their own world. Tom had immediately gone back to talking shop, more like who are we gonna kill next week. People seemed to disappear, one in particular, Rosie. You asked Henry, to try and find her. He scoured the house in search of her and eventually found her in Parker’s room. For days the door had been locked, no one wanted to confront the reality of his bed not being slept in or his clothes not worn. It would reaffirm that he is gone and it was going to take a long time to heal.

“Rosie? You in here?” Henry whispered, knocking softly on the door. It creaked opener evening a distraught Rosie, crying on her bed.

Tears streamed down her face as she croaked out, “Hi.”

“Oh, Rosie,” Henry consoled as he moved to embrace her. She broke into a fit of sobs.

“He’s gone. He said he was right behind me,” Rosie looked up, with puffy red eyes.

“Shhh, it’s ok. I’m here,” Henry said, moving to bring her in his arms.

“I should’ve never left him behind. I keep blaming myself. If I never left him, he would still be here.”

“Roo, baby. You can’t do that.”

“I know, I know but I can’t do this. I’m not ready for him to be gone,” Rosie cried, into Henry’s suit. Tears never bothered to stop coming. She completely broke with him, all the pain and grief she had been hiding was now in the spotlight. Rosie wasn’t ready for a goodbye, none of you were.

Everyone eventually came to the same conclusion, that all the scars in your heart will heal with time. Even though the sadness never fades, you learn to grow with it.

Guns, Glamour and Goodfellas Masterlist

Taglist: @dummiesshort @thenoddingbunny-blog @adriannauni @allthisfortommy @bi-lmg @quaksonhehe @housepartyprotocol

[keanan1501]

Notable swaps: Dream & Tubbo, Fundy & Ranboo, DreamXD & Micheal

TRIGGER WARNINGS: mentioned child death, attempted child murder, intrusive thoughts

Short synopsis: Tubbo escapes prison and heads to Logsteadshire to deal with Dream once and for all, instead he finds something intresting in Logsteadshire... or should i say someone? Tubbo swings his sword in a lazy arch, a pleased grin on his face as the sword's enchantments hum under his hand "This is perfect" he breathes, turning to face his three companions with a bright smile "You three did wonderfully! Sam, consider your debt repayed" The creeper hybrid huffs, eyeing Tubbo as if the younger male was nothing but dirt beneath his shoes "Whatever, just don't expect me to come running when that cranky hog starts chasing" Tubbo giggles, grabbing Sam's arm and pulling him down, allowing Tubbo to pet Sam like one would pet a dog, the ram hybrid is blissfully ignorant of the creeper hissing in protest "Awe, Sam~ It almost sounds like you care for me~" he coos, and his bright smile transforms into something more sinister "Let Techno come, i escaped his 'unescapeable' prison after all. There's nothing that stupid pig can do that i can't counter"

Sam nods, a short and tight one, before he turns around and takes a few steps away from the group "Also, Tubbo. Keep away from Fundy, or else" Tubbo blinks, tilting his head slightly as Sam walks off, he'd known Fundy had moved in with Sam and Ponk shortly after L'manburg exploded, but for someone like Sam, who had rumors surrounding him about his heartlessness, warming up to the cheeky fox hybrid? That was something he didn't expect, he could feel excitement bubbling inside of him, Fundy was his little spy, and Sam and Ponk were both very powerful people, if his motto wasn't "the higher the risk the better the reward" he would have felt fear, unfortunately for Sam and Ponk, he only sees this as a challenge.

"Tubbo, everything alright?" right, he isn't alone. "I'm fine, just scheming" Tubbo shrugs Purpled's concern off, and smiles at Tommy, who is looking at him like he hung the moon and stars just for the blond, maybe he had, the white streak in Tommy's hair certainly proved he had. A small chuckle escapes his lips as he thought back to his now dead ally, Quackity, the duck hybrid had given him the revive book, allowing him to bring his two favorite toys back to life after their deaths, both now sporting a white streak amongst their usual brown and blond hair, proudly showing off the fact that they belong to him, that they're his toys, and noone else could ever hope to claim them.

Sure, Wilbur would have protested with every inch of his being if he could hear Tubbo now, but Tommy had accepted it, embraced it even, all he has to do is give Wilbur a nudge in the right direction, and his favorite toy will fall back into place, just like he'd done during exile. And Tubbo knows exactly how to give said first nudge, who better to target than Wilbur's best friend, his emotional support, his other half, his Dream?

Tubbo digs inside of his pocket, taking out a slightly dented but otherwise beautiful and functioning compass, the words "your Wilbur" carved into it with so much care, Tubbo could insult Phantommy in a lot of different ways, but he can't help but compliment the late ghost's designing skills and steady hands. Phantommy had given the compass to Dream, giving a similar one to Wilbur, except Wilbur's was labled with "your Dream" during exile, Tubbo wanted to tear Phantommy a new one right then and there, but he knew better. Phantommy wasn't Tommy, of course the silly ghost would think Wilbur belonged to Dream, he simply made a mistake, Wilbur belonged to Tubbo, not to Dream! So when Dream, Schlatt and Ranboo were attacked by a horde of creepers Tubbo swooped in and stole the compass, giving it to its rightful owner.

"I'm going to give a short visit to everyone's least favorite president" Tubbo announces, clicking the compass shut and stuffing it back into his pocket "Tommy, i trust you can distract Wilbur and Fundy long enough for me to have a pleasant chat with Dream?" the blond nods quickly, and Tubbo affectionately rolls his eyes, Tommy knows his place as Tubbo's toy, but even Tubbo is sometimes suprised by how much Tommy wants to please his "hero". The poor boy hadn't learned a thing in Pogtopia, had he? As soon as someone more powerful comes along Tubbo would drop Tommy like a stone, but until then Tubbo could enjoy soaking in the pure wonder and awe Tommy has for him.

The blond scurries off, and Tubbo turns to Purpled, smirks and winks, which causes the purple-hoodied male to grumble in either disgust or adoration, Tubbo liked to believe it is the latter "Don't forget i left Ranboo at the alter for you!" Tubbo shouts teasingly as he runs off, laughing as he could hear Purpled make fake gagging noises, definitely disgust.

The trek from the prison to Dream's new village... what was it called again? Logsteadshire or something? wasn't long, and Tubbo cringed as the buildings came into view. Sure, the odd mish-mash of dirt, stone, wood and diamond were passable as houses, but Dream never did have the best eye for design. Tubbo was glad Dream let Schlatt, Ranboo, Fundy, Ponk and Techno do most of the rebuilding for L'manburg, Blood God knows what Tubbo would have done if that stupid country was filled with Dream's odd shacks.

He wasn't here to bash on Dream, he was here to get his armor and weapons back, most notablely his sword "Wasp's Stinger" otherwise known as one of, if not the, most powerful weapon in his land. The dry sand crunches under his feet as he walks confidently across the sand, he could see Eret's kid, Junior, peeking out of one of the holes in the second biggest dirt shack, which must mean that Dream lives in the biggest shack.

Tubbo throws the door open with reckless abandon, walking in to the space like one would walk into their own house, he knows Dream isn't home yet, a good predator waits for their prey after all. He plops down on the couch, his ram ears perking up as the couch lets out a creaking noise, he can't help but wonder if the couch is older than him.

Then he freezes as hurried footsteps thunder down the stairs. Had he been wrong? Is Dream home? Is someone else here to housesit?

"Daddy! Daddy! Look!" Tubbo relaxes as a young ocelot hybrid comes around the corner, the kid couldn't be older then three, which means there is no threat. The kid is beaming, eyes screwed shut and a large droopy smile on their face as the kid proudly holds up a drawing containing four stick figures.

"I'm not your dad, kid" Tubbo chuckles "Sorry to disappoint you" the kid gasps and their round big cat ears pin back, their green eyes wide with both curiosity and fear. Tubbo blinks, and suddenly the ocelot hybrid is gone, and in their place is a ziglin, looking at him like Tubbo was the savior of the world, back then it had felt nice to have someone depend on him, now? It fills his chest with a burning emotion he can't quite place, a mix between grief, anger, confusion and betrayal. Michael can't look at him anymore, so why is he still looking at Micheal?

"Come sit kid, i won't hurt you" Tubbo pats the seat next to him, kids tended to overshare, he was going to use the kid to get some info on Dream, that was all, he wasn't being nice because the kid reminds him of Micheal, he's just being tactical. The kid slowly shuffles over, clutching the drawing like a lifeline, once the kid decides they're close enough he stops, and Tubbo leans forewards to inspect the drawing.

For a three year old he had to give the kid props, the lines looked good and he could make out who was who. Dream and Fundy are standing close together, the kid inbetween them, Wilbur is off to the side, but just like the three in the foreground the kid had drawn him with the biggest smile.

"Who did you draw?" Tubbo asks, looking at the kid with a genuinely curious expression, the kid glows at the question, and points to each stick figure in turn "That's my papa Dre! That's my daddy Funwy! And un'le Wilby! And me!" Tubbo nods, a small smile on his face, so what if the kid reminds him of Michael, noone would get hurt if he entertains the kid for a bit, right?

"Owl?" the kid asks, poking Tubbo in the leg and Tubbo chuckles "I'm not a owl, i'm a ram" he helpfully informs the kid, who pouts in response "Owl?" the kid asks again "You want to go see Wilbur?" Tubbo asks back, knowing Wilbur's wings were often compared to those of a owl, but the kid shakes their head, grabs a book, and flips through the pages. The kid holds up the book and presses it against Tubbo's face "Owl?" Tubbo backs away a bit so he can read the words on the page, it's a classic toddlers book, going over different animal sounds, and a lightbulb turns on in Tubbo's head "Are you asking me who i am?"

The kid nods, gleeful that Tubbo finally understands "I'm Tubbo, can you try saying my name?" Tubbo crouches next to the kid, gently grabbing the kid's hand and writes each letter of his name on the kid's palm, as the kid reads them out loud "T-u-b-b-o" a second of silence "T'bbi!" the kid cries victoriously, and Tubbo just puts his arms up in celebration with the kid, not having the heart to correct them.

"T'bbi, out?" the kid asks, looking at him with the biggest puppy eyes Tubbo's ever seen, how does this kid know his one weakness? Tubbo signs but smiles, opening the door, the kid rushes out and throws themself into the sand, letting out a screech of excitement "Daddy and papa do not let me out!" the kid babbles, making sand hills with such vigor that Tubbo can't help but admire the kid.

Would Micheal be like that if he'd hadn't...? His hand twitches. It was Dream's fault. The handle of his sword felt cold against his hand. He could get revenge. He takes a step forewards, his sword hanging limply by his side, when did he take it out of the scabbard? He could make Dream feel the same pain, the same dark spiral that he went through. His eyes flicker across the kid's body, quickly finding every weak point that would ensure a quick and painless death. He wasn't heartless, he wouldn't let the kid suffer. He puts his hand on the kid's cheek, the kid leans in to the touch, leaving their neck vulnerable. He wasn't a monster like Dream, he wouldn't leave the kid to bleed out, scared and alone.

He snaps from his thoughts as he feels  something rumble beneath his hand, his ears face towards the kid, flicking whenever he could pick up on the faint sound of purring. Tubbo quickly sheaths his sword, noone deserves to go through the loss of a child, not even his greatest enemy. He lets out a sigh and pats the kid on the head, the kid purring even louder.

His ears flick backwards, and he realizes someone is approaching, probably either Fundy or Dream, and as much as he wanted to stick around and taunt the two, the ocelot kid was too young to get wrapped up in their silly game of chess. "Hey kid? I have to go" the kid whines as Tubbo pulls his hand back, short stubby arms reach out to his hand, trying to grab hold of it, but Tubbo is faster, he jumps up and silently runs to the other side of house that the approaching person is coming from. He could hear the kid yell "Daddy!" loudly, the kid's feet kick up sand as they run towards Fundy, the fox hybrid's orange hair standing out against the pale sand "XD?!" Fundy asks, worry coating his tone like Tubbo coats things he likes with honey "How did you get outside?! Is Dream here?!"

"T'bbi!" the kid answers simply, and Tubbo could almost see the fear rolling off of Fundy in waves "Y-you aren't try-ing to say Tubbo, are you?" the kid doesn't answer verbally, but from Fundy's sharp intake of breath he could tell the kid confirmed Fundy's words.

"Tubbo?! I know you're here! I'm calling Techno!" Fundy barks, and Tubbo peeks around the corner to see Fundy typing something on his communicator. With a ease that clearly shows he's done this many times before Tubbo pulls out a bow & arrow and shoots, the arrow goes straight through Fundy's communicator, breaking it, leaving Fundy with no way to call for help, and judging by Fundy's startled yip, the fox knows it. Tubbo steps out in the open, and the kid reaches towards him with a delighted cry "T'bbi!" Fundy grabs the kid's arm and pulls them close, baring his teeth at Tubbo. The ram hybrid just smiles and walks towards them, hand already on his most dangerous weapon of all, eyes unmoving from Fundy's stone-still form. Tubbo whips out his most dangerous weapon and fires, Fundy letting out a screech as he's assaulted by twin streams of thick honey. Tubbo knew repurposing those water guns into honey guns was  a genius idea, he can't believe Sam doubted him.

"What?! Why?!" Fundy groans, trying to brush the sticky liquid out of his coat, but only succeeding in smearing it out more "Because, you and me, we're friends Fundy, best friends even!" Tubbo replies, walking past Fundy like he didn't just doom the poor fox to being a bee attraction for the next week "We're not friends!" Fundy snaps back, and Tubbo turns to face him, blue-green eyes almost seeming to glow in the light of dusk

"If we weren't friends, why would you help me so much? Blowing up the community house, spying on important events, guarding Wilbur's music disc, setting off the TNT trapping Wilbur in prison. All of those things are things that you did, things i asked you to do"

[bxthharmon]

Never Go Home Again, Pt. I || JJ Maybanks x Reader

Words: 2667

Series Warnings: violence / talking about abuse / toxic relationships / talking about nudes sex tapes and sex tapes / drugs / underage drinking

Pt. Warnings: self harm (kind of?)

Series Summary: A new girl, a shoebox of old memories, a past she’s trying to forget coincide with a hotheaded, but selfless, boy.  teenagers getting in way over their heads

Pt. Summary: the second time she saw him, it was at a kook party.

A/N: Okay so I KNOW i havent finished WB (im not even halfway lol) but i got this idea from rewatching euphoria. you dont have to look too closely to see that ive mirrored a couple of seens, but the plot, while inspired by euphoria, wont be the same. let me know what you think, or if you wanna be tagged!

Chapters linked in my masterlist.

“masterlist”

This story does follow the plot, so beware of any spoilers.

This town seemed too perfect. Sure, you were on the poor side of the town, but the houses were well kept and everyone was happy and friendly. It was as far from home as you could get. You hated this. The boxes stacked up in the boot, and the bags piled up in the seats behind you. The fact that you were over two and half thousand miles away from home. The fact that this was a new beginning you were sure you didn’t need. 

You watched as people loaded boats with shopping bags or crates of beer, and how they all seemed to be happy with their small roles in this small town. It was everything you hated and more.

You looked at your dad, in the seat next to you. He kept his eyes on the road, glancing down while he tried to find a radio station with decent music. He settled on reggae track by Bob Marley, and hummed along. You rolled your window down, smelling the salty air that blew in from the coast even as you wound your way further into the poor housing of this end of the island.

That was when you saw him.

He was on his bike, no helmet, his longish blonde hair waving around his face, and a baseball cap slung backwards over his head. You drove past, pushing your head out of the window to keep the view, and his eyes found yours in a way you couldn’t describe. You held his gaze until the car turned, pulling into a driveway. Your new house.

Your dad turned to you with a long sigh.

“I know you’re not happy about this.” he started, and you looked at his concerned face.

“I just don’t understand how moving almost three thousand miles will change anything.” you reasoned.

“Well, you know why. She’s not here, and you won’t have to deal with all of that shit that happened at school.”

“So we’re running away?”

“Y/N, just give this place a chance.”

You nodded. “Dad, how can we afford this?”

He looked at you defeatedly.

You continued, “I mean, with the divorce, and what she did, how could we afford the moving fees and the house? Cross-state moving fees are mad, let alone when you’re on an island too.”

“Hey,” he shook his head, “I’m the adult, I’ll worry about that.”

In your first week on the island, you made friends with a girl called Sarah. She was from Figure 8, but had explained the dynamics between the pogues and kooks to you, and invited you to a party. It was her boyfriend, Topper’s, but she explained that plenty of pogues and tourons would crash anyway.

You arrived without her, a pair of cycling shorts and a crop top thrown over your bikini in a minimal-effort kind of way. Your one stab at an effort was the blue and purple glitter dabbed over your cheek bone to recreate a highlighter effect. When you got there, you could immediately tell you were underdressed. Everyone else were in shirts and dresses, and your glitter was definitely too ‘city’ to be cool here, so you stuck out, obviously the only pogue there. You spent twenty minutes trying to find Sarah, picking up some vodka on your way around. 

Eventually, after leaving a few texts, you sat down on the kitchen counter and nursed your vodka. You had no idea how long you sat there for, but at some point, Sarah’s brother stormed in. You recognised him from one of Sarah’s instagram posts, but you knew he’d never seen you in person. He looked high. And angry.

“Get out of the fucking kitchen!” he was yelling, and people began to filter out, but due to your obscured path, you couldn’t get out. He turned on you.

“Who the fuck are you?” he demanded, “‘Cause I don’t fucking know you!”

“Uh,” you mumbled, “I’m Y/N, I got invited by a friend.”

Where the fuck was Sarah?

“Well I don’t know any Y/Ns. And I don’t see any fucking friends!” He yelled, slurring and stumbling. “Does anybody know Y/N?” 

You looked around the gathering crowd, trying to spot Sarah, hoping she would appear and get you out of this.

“I said, does anybody fucking know Y/N? What the fuck are you doing in this house?” He cornered you, and you were beginning to panic. How the fuck do I get out of this situation?

You didn’t even realise what you were doing, but you felt yourself grab a knife from the counter and thrust it towards him. He stumbled back and you stepped forwards.

“Don’t fucking yell at me!” you shouted, watching him lean back against the wall in fear. You didn’t even register doing it but you felt the blade slice your arm.

You stepped back, addressing the shocked audience. “By the way, I’m Y/N,” You looked around, finding those blue eyes you’d seen a week ago. “And I just moved here.”

You dropped the knife on the counter and pushed your way out of the house, pulling your phone out when you got to the pavement. You checked your messages with Sarah.

You: just got here, where r u?

You: girl, where u at?

You: sarah, i dont know anyone, where r u?

You: im going home, shit turned sour. Msg me later.

Putting your phone away, you looked around. You hardly knew where you were, and you were desperate to get home.

“That was quite a show.” You heard a voice behind you. Shit.

You turned, and saw your blonde haired boy. “Well I knew someone was gonna get hurt either way, so I chose to deescalate the situation, you know?”

He nodded, reaching for your arm, looking at the cut. “You need to get that looked at.” 

“You offering?” you asked, pushing down a smile. 

“Sure.” he shrugged. You looked at him. He looked at the ground, an uncharacteristic shyness taking him over, “Can I stay at yours?”

You watched him stare at the ground, and however much you wanted to ask, you chose not to. “Sure, we just gotta be extra quiet.” 

He grinned, “‘Course.”

“Okay,” you sighed, “This is where I confess that I don’t actually know my way home.”

“We’ll work it out.” he grinned.

When you reached your house, learning that it was only a minute down the road from the blonde boy’s friend's house, you opened the door as quietly as possible, the pair of you pulling off your shoes and carrying them for extra quiet. You snuck up the stairs, trying to avoid the creaky stair boards, and pausing in terror every time there was a creak. By the time you’d made it to your room, the only other room upstairs being a bathroom, you both relaxed. You searched your moving boxes, finding your brother’s old sweat and tee for him, and going to the bathroom so that you could change into an oversized top and old gym shorts.

When you came back, a first aid kit in hand, the boy sat you down on the bed and began to address the cut.

You watched him work in silence. “What’s your name?” you whispered, and he glanced up at you, a smile on his lips.

“JJ.” he said simply, a small smirk adorning his lips as he finished dressing your arm.

You flopped down, so that you were lying on your back in the bed, and he looked at you with an odd sense of curiosity. “Lie down.” softly, you coaxed.

“Usually I get to know a girl before I get in her bed.” he joked, and the way you laughed made him want to freeze the moment in time. 

“Why do I feel like that’s not true?” you snarked.

He gasped, putting his hand to his chest in feigned hurt, “Oh Y/N, I’ve known you for an hour and you’re already breaking my heart!”

“What can I say?” you bantered, “I’m just pure femme fatale.”

He crawled onto the bed, resting his head on the pillows above you. “Oh,” he replied, “I’m sure.”

You flipped onto your stomach, looking at him, relaxed, head on the pillows, gazing down at you. “At home, there weren’t any guys like you.”

He laughed, unsure of himself, “Love, there aren’t any other guys like me.”

You hummed, fiddling with the corner of your throw blanket, looking at him through your lashes, you giggled. “You’re so full of shit.”

He grabbed a pillow and threw it straight at your head. You picked it up, your face scrunched up from the impact, and he laughed. You sat up, crossing your legs, and threw it back at his face, only he caught, laughing, saying something about you having a bad throw. He put the pillow back, and you crawled back up the bed, lying on your back, your arms touching as you both stared at the ceiling.

You glanced at him, taking how his warm tan contrasted the blue light of the moon that shone through the large window above your bed. You took in the way his muscles gave him definition, and how the top stretched slightly over his chest, and how his long blonde hair splayed over the pillow, your own, waist-length hair tickling his arm as you lay there. You took in the curve of his nose and the tiny, mischievous smirk that never seemed to leave his face. You took in his long eyelashes and the blue of his eyes and the pink of his cheeks.

At some point, you drifted off.

When you woke up, you were tucked into him, your legs tangled in his, hair spread over his arm. His eyes were still closed, and you didn’t move from your spot, keeping your eyes on his face.

“You know,” he murmured, “If you take a picture, it’d last longer.”

Blushing, you pulled away. “I don’t know what you’re on about.” you sat up, feeling his fingers trace the curve of your back as you moved out of his reach. You left the bed, looking back to see him sit up, rubbing sleep out of his eyes, and you watched him take in the way your top fell over your frame. You searched your moving boxes again, looking for an outfit for the day. You really needed to move everything into the wardrobe. Eventually, you pulled out a bikini and shorts. You looked back at him, and he grinned at you.

You looked at him curiously, “What are you doing today, JJ?”

He thought for a second, electing against going home, but rather to go to John B’s for a day of weed and joking around. “Introducing you to my friends.” he shrugged, “The one who lives a minute down the road.”

You nodded, “What are we, in a relationship?” you joked, “Introducing me to your friends? Next thing I know I’ll be round for dinner.”

He felt dirty when you said that, shrinking into himself, hoping that you would never experience the shit that came with meeting his dad. You must have realised you’d hit a nerve, because you backtracked, saying you’d been stupid and whatever you’d said to upset him wasn’t intentional. When he looked back up, he saw how the tears of worry were building, and he immediately changed his demeanor, rushing forwards to hug you, assured you that it was all good. 

You went to get changed, leaving him in your room. 

He looked around. The corner was full of boxes yet to be unpacked, the open ones mainly clothes. There was a desk under the window, with some makeup, a book and a notebook thrown on top. The wardrobe doors were open, revealing that the few clothes that were in your wardrobe were very messily so, most either hung up or on the floor. There was a shelf above the hangers, with a shoebox pushed carefully to the side. He pulled it out, conscious that he was snooping. He pulled the lid off, and saw a set of pictures.

The first - you at a funfair when you were a little, a boy two years older (must be your brother) and a woman, almost identical to you, hugging you close. The second, you were older, perhaps twelve - you were wearing a Christmas onesie that matched the woman’s, your brother and dad laughing as you and the woman - your mother - danced around. The third - you were in a hospital gown, and your mother was crying, holding you close. 

There were more, but he didn’t look. Under the photos, there was a tiny crocheted rabbit and a baby blanket with little elephants on it. He heard your bathroom door open, and rushed to put the lid on, putting the box back. You walked in, smiling at him as you checked your phone.

Dad missed calls (6)

Bro missed calls (3)

Sarah missed calls (11)

You sighed, checking Sarah’s messages.

 Sarah: Sorry!! I heard what happened, i should hv been there. Meet up 2day?

You: Rain check? I met a guy last night and he wants to introduce me to his mates.

Sarah: U go girl!! Enjoy urself, msg me if u need me <3

You flicked off Sarah’s messages, glancing back at JJ, who was looking at your make up.

Mom: Darling, call me when you can.

The last text made you want to throw up, and you tossed your phone on the bed, drawing JJ’s attention back to you. “You okay?” he asks, and you nod, grabbing your purse and picking your phone back up, and getting ready to go.

“Okay, I’ll go down first, I’ll signal if there’s no one there so you can come down.” you ran down the stairs, checking the kitchen and living room, then giving JJ the all-clear. You left the house, letting him walk you to his friend’s place.

He took your hand, guiding your through the front door and into the house. You wrinkled your nose at the mess, food, clothes and empty cans littering the room. “This is a mess.” you muttered, stepping over an empty packet of sweets.

“His mom left when he was three and his dad’s missing, the lack of adults means… well, you can see what it means.”

You nodded, only just noticing a boy asleep on the sofa next to you. JJ leans over, sighing. “That’s Pope, I’ll go get John B and see if Kiara’s here.” he let go of your hand, walking down the hall, leaving you with the sleeping boy. You watched the boy shuffle and then open his eyes, jumping at the sight of a stranger standing over him. 

“Who are you?” he asked, sitting up and staring at you. 

“JJ’s friend.” you said, and he raised an eyebrow. 

“You’re the girl who cut herself.” he said, recognition relaxing his features.

“My reputation precedes me.” you laugh, and he stands up. 

“Food?” he offers, walking to the kitchen.

“Y’all have food here? It looks like you live off Swedish Fish and beer.” 

He grins, “That’s the life.” he jokes, pulling a slice of moldy bread from its packet, and then throwing it straight in the bin. “That said, John B does need to get groceries more.”

“I do?” you heard a voice behind you. You turned, and were met with the sight of a tall brunette boy. He stares at you for a second, and rather than Pope’s blunt recollection, he grins, “You’re Y/N, right?” You nod, “You left quite the impression at Topper’s party.”

“What can I say?” you laughed.

JJ came back from the hallway, accompanied by a girl. “You must be Y/N!” she greets, smiling brightly, “I’m Kiara.” 

“Well…” JJ pipes up, “Let's take the HMS out to the marsh and introduce Y/N to the OBX properly!”

“I’m down.” Kiara shrugged, “I don’t have any shifts today.” 

“Sure,” agreed Pope.

“Leave in twenty?” John B offered.

[sleepdeprivedheretic]

Restrained

  Notes: I have no excuse, I just want a crack fic with smut treated seriously with Tai-chan to step on me the reader while looking down cockily. Humor, angst, fluff, splashed with pining dust :’) Also, I love Linkin Park.  

Setting: Reader-chan is a villain and is terrible at being one, cue ongoing physical and snark battles with Tai-chan.  

Warnings: Kinky Smut (So here’s what my unacknowledged, vanilla self, has tried to write and nobody has to read it but it’s here in the story: Dirty talk, safe words, possessiveness, edging, talk about inexperience, handcuffs, breeding kink, unsafe sex, Tai’s mean and leaves the reader unattended, but he feels bad afterwards, lube, somehow there’s vanilla, and fluff) and my weak emotions for Good Boys.  

……….

       You didn’t exactly chose the Villain life, it basically chose you. Cue your dad’s maniacal laughter, your mother’s evil smirks and her ways of teaching you how to go for the jugular since you were five...wasn’t the most heroic childhood.  You grew up distant away from others, living life learning how to avoid the law and training heavily to avoid losing a fight, your parents seemed to take that as a green-light and pushed you into the family business. Not like you could fight it, anyway. You were an outcast from day one, and had no close friends.  

That being said, you didn’t really like hurting other people or doing typical villainy stuff, but you liked fighting. It gave you a feeling of pushing all of your aggression and bottled up anger onto somebody without killing them, whether it be heroes, vigilantes, or hell, other villains. It wasn’t healthy, but you had nothing else, really.  

 Cue in the physical form of your recent excitement, the BMI hero who resembled a matryoshka doll and was kinda cute in his big form, no lie. The two of you had met near his agency with Sakura petals floating along with the breeze, and honestly it reminded you of a shojo manga. Well, him minding his own business until he’d seen your pathetic attempts at shoplifting.

He was there for a fight, and at first you overestimated him, thinking that he would go down quickly, but you were wrong. So wrong. You weren’t the best of the villains, but you held your ground, the both of you panting and sweaty and for the first time, you liked fighting against a hero.

Of course being a self-called villain full of dirty tricks up your sleeve, you were good at vanishing, leaving him to shout curses at you, but you didn’t care. From then on out, the two of you would continue ironically meeting in places. It was either you stumbling into him walking around town, eating Takoyaki, or him catching you...not doing anything villainous because you sucked at it, but you know, it’s the thought that counts.  

Then the snark happened.

“Where did you get your hero outfit? From the thrift store?” You quipped.

“As in a matter of fact, I did. Saw yer mom there buyin’ old man’s underwear, Sweetheart.”

Kami help you.

“You don’t even know my mom! But yeah, she’d probably do that.” You answered.

“Wait, really?”

“Yeah, she’s kind of weird.”    

      You weren’t on the top of the villain lists (or if you were on the list), but you were good at holding your ground, and he seemed to know of you, and thus seemed as if he was always making plans to run into you. You were no better. You had gotten into the habit of causing small trouble around his agency, and your battles were always lengthy, full of snark, and you admit you kind of liked to feel him push you against a brick building, leering down at you before the whole thing started.

Anyway, you’ve always managed to either escape or he’d just throw up his hands and turn and walk away in a frustrated huff, like that one time you fell flat on your face, accidentally dodging his spear-formed punch. It was one time, but he didn’t let you live it down, asking about your nose.

 Oddly enough, the other pro-heroes, Miruko and Hawks, would just glance at you, sigh and then leave, muttering something about idiots, Eraserhead would just guide the children away from the two of you with a blank look, and Endeavor would just avoid the two of your messy fights altogether, opting that he ironically wasn’t going to deal with “an old married couple”. Whatever that meant.

It didn’t stop smaller, weaker heroes from trying, though. Trying to be hotshots and bring you in. Of course, they failed. You didn’t listen to Linkin Park while training your ass out in the cold rain just to be brought down by some punks.    

Tai-chan, or what you’ve become calling him (thanks for Hawks just silently handing you a paper with his name on it, the absolute Wing-man), noticed. Although he was a hero and didn’t dissuade the young ones from chasing after villains, he did basically say that anybody around his area was his to battle. It melted your heart, a little.

It didn’t stop the two of your bantering and bickering, or sometimes he’d say something, trying to be serious but it comes out as silly, that you couldn’t help but burst into a fit of giggles and he’d get flustered, having a cute blush that you couldn’t help but just eat up.

It was like an odd addiction, you wanted to see more of him, even though it was through unhealthy things such as your fights, you wanted to hear more corny catchphrases, see his eye twitch of annoyance (you were a little shit), and finally, the both of you panting in defeat as he angrily munched on Takoyaki, snarling as you stole one, but let you have it, and so on.

You weren’t sure if you were becoming an unhealthy masochist, or you just really liked him. Perhaps both, because your heart would flutter every time you see him smile around his sidekicks from afar, and then clench because you were so far gone into the life of a villain, you knew that you could never have that life. Be a hero, or have him at least as a friend.

Such sad thoughts did plague you, and it must have shown through, because you would halfheartedly remark to his commentary or sometimes, you just wouldn’t show up for a day. He noticed. He was keen like that, and so to your surprise, he would take your fights more seriously, as if trying to keep you there, not letting you keep running away.

Honestly, it was a little sweet, but your poor heart was getting confused at your little game, and didn’t know how to honestly feel for him.      

Of course, everything must come to an end, doesn’t it?

 He was leering down at you with a cocky smirk, clothes ruined, showing off whatever he had, a boot stepping onto your chest, rain soaking through his soft hair and splattering your cheeks. An odd feeling came over you. Something you weren’t familiar with, but through your mask, you felt that it was safe to just take a mental picture and burn it forever within your brain.

 The fight was different. You were sick all week with the common cold, and when you returned from your little hibernation, weird gossip and rumors were littering about near the FatGum Agency. It was either you left him because you were getting bored, or you had found another hero to play with, or you were finally caught. Whatever it was, he seemed to be excited, relieved(?), and at the same time furious to see you. He demanded where have you been, and feeling increasingly snarky and not sure what to feel with your pining dumbass heart, you retaliated that you were on a vacation from his stupidity.

 Yeah, you lost.  

“Finally caught ya.” His voice rasped out and hot damn did that not help with the odd searing warmth churning within your guts. The feeling of losing always frightened you, for you weren’t sure whether or not your family would actually give a damn. Yet, you felt elated and calm. It was over, he could finally call the shots, and you could just sit in a jail cell and atone for whatever petty crimes you committed.

“So you have. How’s the weather up there, you giraffe?” You couldn’t help but ask, and the boot on your chest pressed a tiny bit down in annoyance, but he made sure that you weren’t hurting.

“Just fine. I think I stepped in shit, though.”  

You couldn’t help it. You began laughing, and to your astonishment, he did, too.

“I missed ya.” He admitted as the both of you calmed down. That surprised you.

“I thought you hated me?”

He gave you a look.

“You’re annoying, and persistent, but not evil. Like a flea, you keep on bouncin’ back up, and I can’t help but not dislike ya.” The words sent a warm tingling up your spine, and you found yourself smiling softly.

“I couldn’t hate you either, you know. You’re the only one,” You swallowed, and the continued as his eyes now focused onto yours. “who I can freely just be myself around with.”

“Whaddya mean?” The tone was softer, now, but ever so curious. Well, it’s a good time as any to release your tragic backstory while in the drizzling rain.

“My parents are both villains, and so I was raised as one. I could never be friends with heroes, or really anybody. I could never dream to be a hero, because of my background. It’s shady from the start, who in their right mind would pick a hero who could just end up being like their parents?”

 The words tumbled out of you, feeling the metaphorical weight be lifted off from your chest, as the rain quickened it’s pace. An uncomfortable silence washed over the two of you, and already you were regretting the word vomit that had just spilled out of your mouth. You said too much, you cringed inwardly. You should have just kept your mouth shut, now he’s going to pity you-

“You know what? Fuck it.” Your eyes widened with shock and confusion as the so-called “DadGum”  had just said one of the worst bad words.  

“Did you just-”

“Your parents can jump into the nearest jail-cell. You,” His eyes glinted with an unknown darkness that set your insides ablaze. “have two options. Either you can platonically become a hero-in-training  and live with me, or you can be mine. My hero-in-training, my roommate, my lover, just, mine.” He put an emphasize on the word, and your face flushed despite the chilly autumn rain.  

You would be surprised, but you oddly weren’t. Endeavor was right, the two of you were basically an old married couple, bickering and bantering, always staring at each other when one was sure the other wasn’t looking.

“Alright. I’d like us to try...um...being more than...rivals?” You stammered. He cocked an eyebrow.

“I didn’ just pour my heart out for ya so ya can deliver that. Try a lil’ harder.” He scoffed.  

“Fine, fine! I..I like you too-”

“Love.”

“Love, you too! I just...I dunno, always wanted to find an excuse to just be around you.”

“That’s sweet, an’ I love ya too, Sugarplum, but ya weren’t here for a whole week-

“I was sick with the common cold!”

“N’ then these shitty rumors started-

“Don’t act as if that’s my fault!”

“So I’m feelin’ a lil’ snappy an’ hungry today, but not for food.” He humored you.

“What does that mean?” You tested the waters, knowing the truth, already. He took his boot off of you, crouching down to give you a predatory smile.

“I won’ touch ya unless ya beg me, but our lil’ cat’n’mouse games have had me riled up, for a very, very long time.” He leaned in and whispered in your ear, and you couldn’t help but swallow thickly with want as he continued.

“N’ now we’ve discussed our feelin’s, I’m all just wantin’ to tie you to my bed.” He finished as he continued leering at you as if you were the sheep, and him the wolf. You didn’t blame him, you’ve been wanting this, too. It was a little fast paced, but several months of mutual pining would probably do that to you.

 “I mean, at least take me out to dinner, first.” You tried to joke. He just shrugged.

“Done.”

“What? I’m a villain! My family are villains!” You tried to argue. He gave a smile mixed in with a humorous look.  

“Villain? Last time I checked, starin’ at candy from the hand of a baby, isn’t puttin’ ya on any wanted list. You’re mine, now. Doesn’t matter what yer shitty family thinks. I’ll fight’em, too.” The sentence made your heart swell, feelings of joy and acceptance fluttered within your for the first time in a long time, and you let yourself give a warm smile. His eyes softened, as he helped pull you up to your feet, letting you lean against him as you maintained your balance.

    “Alright. We...we can just be a normal couple? How does this even work?” You tried out. He glanced at you.

“Yeah, we’re goin’ to jus’ be a normal couple. Well, you’re gonna train with me, so that we can eventually get ya a license. N’ you’re gonna kick your parent’s asses, not as a villain or a civilian, but as a hero.” He started off softly, but then a more rambunctious grin took over his face at the prospect, and to be honest, you felt like that was a good idea, spitting everything that they’ve taught you, back in their faces as you live life the way you want it, with your partner, of course.

Speaking of which.

“So...we’re just going to continue getting soaked?” You asked, trying to keep yourself from shuddering.

“Yeah, but not in the rain. C’mon, my place.” He gruffed, and you found yourself eagerly nodding.

You weren’t sure how this happened so fast. First you entered his apartment, shivering, then he said that your clothes needed to be washed, aaaaand you were here, on his bed, naked, chilled, and your hands completely cuffed to the post as he was staring at you with such a dirty, hungry look, you felt thrilled by it.

“You want this? Say no an’ we’ll stop.” He offered one last time.

“I want this.” You admitted, and he gave off an almost predatory grin as you watched in amazement of him shucking off his clothes at the pace of the speed of light. Hot damn, he was huge, and beautiful. He grinned at your unabashed stare, crawling towards you on the king-sized bed, opening your legs as he slotted himself between them.

“So pretty, and wet.” He chuckled, giving you little time to think as his thumb swiped at your leaking opening, causing you to gasp.

“I think that I’m gonna eat you out.” Was the only warning you were given as your legs were pulled further apart, and the next thing you knew, he was on you. Your hands jerked against the fuzzy handcuffs as you felt him licking long, hot, and wet stripes from your opening, to your clit. You couldn’t help but mewl as you subconsciously fought against your restraints, thighs trying to clench around him as he gripped them, keeping them apart as he suckled at your clit.

You felt helpless as he was giving you such an intense and dark stare while he was driving you to the edge, gauging your teary-eyed reaction while you bit your lips, hands squeezing onto thin air as you felt yourself getting closer and closer, hips bucking wildly.

Then, he stopped, and you growled into a pitiful whine, causing him to laugh.

“How does it feel, causin’ others to wait?”

You huffed. He seriously couldn’t be that petty!  

“Common. Cold.” You let out a hiss, and he gave you an unimpressed stare.

“Are ya givin’ me an attitude?” Was a warning.  

“Yeah, I am!” Like a bull, you ran right into that red flag. He grinned, a little darkly. It honestly would’ve scared you a little, if you weren’t so turned on.

“Yer still a lil’ too feisty. As much as I love it, I ‘ave other plans in mind.” He gave a false pout, and your stomach churned with awaited excitement in what he was going to do, next.

“I’ll be back. I’m going to the store. Be good, okay?” He gave your surprised look a dark smirk, and you couldn’t help but growl. The audacity! You loved him, but the audacity! You couldn’t help but look on with bewilderment as he gotten dressed, opening and closing the bedroom door shut as he left you all alone and tied up.

 You waited for what seemed forever, pissed off and bored out of your mind as you felt increasingly cold and still wet. You refused to cry. He said he’d be back, didn’t he? Then why do you feel so helpless and lonesome. You felt tears shed with relief and frustration as he finally opened the door to the bedroom, black bag in hand.

“Bastard!” You hissed, and he eyed you with a sympathetic expression mixed in with a little guilt. He got undressed and set the bag next to the two of you, crawling towards you and wiped away the wetness on your cheeks, kissing them and your mouth as he held a gentler expression. He held your chilled frame against his too warm one, nuzzling you as he soothed your ruffled feathers.    

“I know, Darlin’. I’ll make it all better for you, I promise.”  He kissed your nose as he gathered the blankets to surround your skin, still letting you be exposed, but at least you’ll be a little warmer.

“Do you wanna continue?”

“Yes.” You said without hesitation, feeling relieved after seeing his softer side, and still wanting release, and received a wet, dirty kiss. You moaned into it, feeling his hands rub your breasts, squeezing them rather roughly as he toyed with the nubs with his roughed up hands. He broke away too soon, leaving the two of you panting as his dark, feral look returned as he eyed you.

“Bought you a lil’ somethin’.” He turned away, rummaging through the bag. You eyed it wearily, hoping that he didn’t go too crazy. He pulled out a bottle of strawberry lube, that was good, and...your face flushed.

“Ever used these, before?” He held out the little vibrating bullets for you to see. You shook your head, and he chuckled.  

“You’re very vanilla, ain’t you?”  

“I-I…” You stuttered, but he kissed your forehead.

“What’s yer safe word?” He asked. Safe word? Why couldn’t the two of you have a normal first time, together? You thought about it.

“Grapes.”

“Why that word?”

“I hate them.” You shrugged.

“Fair enough. Alright, let’s get started.” He said lowly, opening the lube and bullets. He added some of the lube onto the bullets, attaching one bullet to your clit, and the other to your nipple with little pieces of tape. Yeah, you were confused, too, but he didn’t pay you any mind as he set the controller to both bullets to the side, flipping the switch to a low setting.

You let out a choked whimper as your clit was being stimulated, him leaning forward and enjoying the view of your wetness drenching the sheets.

“Such an eager slut.” He bit out almost darkly as his fingers spread open your labia.

“’M notta slut!” You protested, but it was on deaf ears as he had something else in mind. He generously poured a dime amount of lube onto his fingers, grinning down at you as the strawberry scent floated nicely in the room, mixing in with your own scent of arousal. You almost jolted as his lubed up fingers prodded the tight muscle to your vaginal entrance.  

“Damn, relax, you’re so fuckin’ tight.” He murmured, and through your lust-fogged brain, you wondered if anybody else knew about this side of “Dad-gum”. Although having a rough demeanor, he was gently opening you up, and you felt warmth blossom in your chest at the extra attention that he was giving you, glancing at you from time to time to see if you were alright.

You were more than fine. Five fingers deep, and a higher setting to the mini bullets, you were very close to coming. You rocked your hips in a desperate fashion, hands clenched tightly as the fuzz to the handcuffs prevented you from hurting yourself.

“You gonna cum?” He leered.

“Yes!” You bit out, and your stomach fluttered with excitement mixed with dread at that dark chuckle.  

   “Not yet.” He switched the vibrator off, and you swore you could hear yourself huff into an annoyed growl.  Tears of frustration threatened to spill, and he gave another sympathetic look. You swore that he was mocking you.

“It’s okay, alright? I’ll give you what ya want.” He kissed your eyes, holding your frame close to him as he then rubbed his cheek against yours.

“Patience, Baby. I’m hurtin’ too. Right now, let’s let ya cool down while I mark up this pretty skin of yours, alright?” He kissed you gently, and you were now aware of his own need. It was swollen and looked angry as precum was headily dripping onto the sheets. It twitched as you realized that he knew that you were staring. You licked your lips and he groaned with want.

“See? Hurtin.”. He then continued to do as he promised, kissing you slowly as his hands rubbed against your skin, squeezing here and there as your hands itched to touch him. He paid your whining no heed as he licked at the juncture at your neck, biting it harshly, suckling at the blossoming bruise as his dick twitched at your wanton whine and buck of hips. He kissed the spot gingerly, eyeing your debauched frame with greed as he lowered his mouth to another spot.

“Damned young punks, trying to bring you in. They should know better. You’re in my territory.” Bite. You winced, but keened with need as he lathered the blossoming bruises with gentle kisses.  

“Every inch of you is mine.” His eyes glittered almost darkly as he tore away from his work. Oh yes, you were looking nice. He didn’t do too much, but the love bites he imprinted onto your neck and clavicle helped soothe the possessive ache that he had. He knew that you wanted to touch him, too, and was thrilled at the aspect.

“You wanna touch?” He prodded. You keened into a hurried nod, not caring about your pride.

“Please.” What a cute sound, how could he refuse? He relented, and you were on him. It felt as if he was guiding you, letting your hands roam, doing your own squeezing at his stomach, biceps, and pecs while you kissed him feverishly. He basked in your attention, letting you claim your prize for being such a wonderful and patient Sweetheart. Of course he kept you from touching his dick, promising that another time, definitely, so you relented in favoring of returning his little marking game.

He swore he could come untouched by your less rough touch, eyeing him to see if he acknowledged that you were doing a good job, to which he couldn’t help but find that adorable, as well.

“You’re so good for me. So patient and sweet. I’m going to breed you, now. Would you like that?” He hummed, and you swore that your brain stopped and your core clenched with need. One sentence should not sound that hot, but it did.

“Yes. I would like that.” You answered a little too gently, and he hummed with approval, kissing you.

“If you don’t, remember that we don’t hafta do anything that you don’t wanna do. Remember your safe word?” He inquired, you nodded and told him.

“Good. You wanna be bred n’ dirty-talked? I gotcha some Plan B at the store, didn’t really think about condoms. Is that fine?”

You nodded, telling him that you liked both ideas. To be honest, you didn’t mind being marked up in such a way. Not with your pent up lust and feelings of love towards this sadistic Himbo of a man.    

“Lie on yer back. I wanna see ya.” He growled out, and you hastily complied.

“Now, tell me, how experienced are ya, really? Not hard to notice that you seem to be learnin’ a few things.” He gave you look in which you couldn’t decipher.

“It’s dumb.”

“No it ain’t. Doesn’t matter to me if ya have history.” He kissed your knee softly as his expression gentled, and you felt yourself relax.

“Your possessiveness says otherwise.” You tried.

“’Cause they’ve been houndin’ around what’s been mine in my territory. Your earlier experiences don’t count. You’re mine, now, and I’m planning on keepin’ it that way.” He smoothed your leg gently despite the dark edge in his tone of words. Really, you feel elated.

“So no judgment?” You inquired.

“None.” He promised.  You believed him. Feeling a bit more braver and relaxed, you could trust him with your secrets. You didn’t know a way how to make it less cringe-worthy to admit, but you wanted to tell him, anyway.

“I never really had to time or opportunity.” You found yourself saying, and that’s all he needed to hear.  

 His eyes flashed into something that you couldn’t decipher, but it didn’t matter. He wan onto you, kissing you slowly yet frequently, retouching every place where he could reach with a more gentle approach.

“Don’t make a kink out of it.” You groaned. He chuckled lowly.

“Why not? Ya get to do this, once.”

“It’s a social construct, and dumb. It’s not like my personality is magically going to change after having something within me.”

“I agree completely, Dearest, but I find it endearin’ and sweet that you’re willing to share this with me.”  

“That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.” You huffed out softly.

“Might be, but my dick’s trying to convince itself to do the thinkin’.”

“Maybe you should let it, then.” You prodded, and he then gave you a dark grin.

“As ya wish. Don’t forget yer safe word.” Was the only warning you had.

 You were already loosened and wet, and although his actions resembled of that like an animal as he kissed you with fervor and biting some new areas, he was gentle when he decided that it was time for the main course. Coating himself with a generous amount of cold lube, he hissed as he turned on the bullet vibrators, letting you get stimulated as he breached your vaginal opening, teasing and prodding the muscle as it opened up for him.

You felt the hot, thick head of his dick slip inside with little to no restraint, surprising you as your legs widened further, allowing him to sink in further. He was big, and your walls had to stretch to accommodate him, but you wanted it so damned badly. It hurt so good, you thought. There was a little pain, but the delicious stretch heavily outweighed it, and it reached places that you didn’t know that just needed to be itched.  

Hot damn, did you feel stuffed.

“How are ya?” He then asked, and then you realized that he was fully seated inside, and you could tell that he was desperate and hot as you were.

“If you stop this time, I might actually kill you.” Your threat was light, but he swallowed thickly at the intensity of your stare and heated gaze of want.

“Good?”

“Wonderful. Move.” You all but demanded, but he eagerly complied, letting your too-tight walls massage him.

“Fuck! So tight. Might keep ya like this, re-tie ya to my bed. Fuck ya full n’ heavy.” He couldn’t help but growl out the words, being rewarded with the tightened clench of your walls.

“Ya like that? Bein’ my personal cocksleeve? Belly round n’ breasts heavy with milk?” His movements jerked faster as he squeezed your breast that didn’t have the bullet pleasantly buzzing against it. You couldn’t help but nod, arousal dripping onto the sheets as the bullet roughly buzzed against your clit, the both of you feeling the painful aching need for release. His hips were all but snapping to meet your thrusts, balls slapping against your ass, as he engaged you into a filthy kiss as the lewd sounds and scents echoed and filtered within the walls.

Your head felt light and the both of you were covered in a sheen of sweat, he opted to weave his hand into yours, holding it rather almost gently as he moved as if a man possessed. Yours hit first, gripping you and clenching you out of nowhere as you let out his name in a frantic shout, clutching onto him ever so tightly as your head fogged into a sharp relief that left you into tears from finally able to cum. He was no better, hips faltering as he felt you embrace your own orgasm, causing his mind to almost go blank as the movement of his hips bucked into a frantic state. He huffed out, calling out to you as he held onto you tightly, anchoring the both of you into a freight train of orgasmic bliss.

You whimpered out your oversensitive clit and breast, hitting the damned power button to those little bullets as you came down from your high. Taishiro collapsed next to you as the both of you were panting, trying to catch your breaths. You were so drowsy, but you really didn’t want to sleep in your own spunk and messes.

“Dirty.” You whined, and he laughed, kissing you.

“Let’s get cleaned up, then. Know ya don’t wanna, but you could seriously get an UTI if ya don’t use the bathroom.” You agreed, tearing off the bullets, and pulling your weakened state up to use the bathroom as he decided to lazily change the sheets, throwing the used sheets, toys, and the black bag in the corner, somewhere. He would deal with that, later.

He caught you as you stumbled into him from coming out of the bathroom. Gently, he maneuvered you to where you were snuggled up against him, a heavy blanket re-warming up your cooling skin as he hummed, gently playing with your hair as he kissed you softly.

“Ya good?”

“Tired n’ fine.” You mumbled, peeking up to look at him. He smiled gently.

“I looooove you.” He singsonged, earning him your own gentle smile and a soft kiss.

“I love you, too. Go to sleep.” You playfully griped at the last part, and he chuckled in compliance.

…………..

Bonus:  Yeah your parents were pissed, but you were a hero, and their opinions didn’t really count, anymore. They knew your potential, so they cleared away from you as you and your fiance moved into a safer city. End.

……….

 Here’s my poor attempt at being more versatile in writing kinky smut. Hope it’s not too much cringe, I’m usually too vanilla :’)  

[niksixx]

Patience

~Part 3. I hope you’re loving it.~

Pairing: Axl Rose/Vince Neil x Female Reader 

Warning: Vince hits Reader 

A/N: Please reblog for me :) 

*Picture is NOT mine. Found on Google. Credit to the owner.*

Tag list: @littlemisscare-all @curly-hudson @julessworldd @madamsixx @headlight-queen @metalheartofgold @ginny-baker-sixx @mickmarstookmyheart @gunsngunners @bex-tothe-rescue

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

The ride home to your house is eerily quiet. In the passenger seat, Vince leans his head out the window, slowly breathing in the cool air while a trash bag hangs between his legs.

Eyes focused on the road, your grip on the steering wheel tightens as Vince empties the contents of his stomach into the bag. Knowing that Vince isn’t phased by his antics fuels a fire in your bones.

As you park the car, Vince stumbles out to the curb. You throw open your door, locking the car, before walking past him. He mutters under his breath, most likely a string of curses, steading himself on the metal railing before throwing his body against the door.

On your couch is Mick Mars, book in his lap, glass of water on the side table. He turns his head, blinking twice at Vince who ignores him and heads for the shower, before gazing at you.

You lock the door, throw your purse, and slide down the door, face buried in your hands. You should have waited until you went to your room to let the tears fall, not wanting to drag poor Mick into your relationship drama. The boys had witnessed plenty of the fights between you and Vince, and most of the time they were at a loss for words on how to help. Nothing would be different this time.

Mick lifts you to your feet, arms wrapping around your shoulders, pulling you in. You go slack against him as he runs a hand up your back, dusting a sweet kiss on your head. “I’ll deal with him tonight. You rest, okay?”

You nod as Mick stalks off toward the bathroom, waiting just outside for Vince to finish up. In the fridge is a brand new bottle of Chardonnay, which you pop open, pouring a generous amount into a glass. From the kitchen you spot Nikki and Tommy in the pool, beer in Nikki’s hand, cigarette in Tommy’s mouth. It wasn’t unusual to find the boys in your house while you weren’t home.

Wiping the tears from your eyes, you kick off your shoes and slide open the doors to the pool deck. When the boys see you, they stop laughing. Setting your glass off to the side, you roll up your work pants, dipping your legs in the heated pool water.

As you guzzle the sweet wine, Nikki and Tommy exchange looks before swimming over to you. Tommy rests his arms on your legs, Nikki squeezing your arm gently.

“Half the time I’m too embarrassed about our fucked up relationship to say anything,” you mumble, licking the leftover liquid from your lips. “But I don’t know what to do anymore.”

“AA?” Tommy suggests, blowing a smoke ring.

You shake your head. “He won’t go on his own. I can’t force him to do something he doesn’t want to do.”

Even if he was forced, Vince wouldn’t thrive in rehab. The people in rehab want to get better for their friends, their families, for themselves. Vince? He wants no part of it.

“He thinks he’s invincible, and he’s not,” you whisper solemnly. “Who drinks a whole bottle of Jack and then gets behind the wheel?”

“If it helps, I tried to take it away from him at the studio,” Nikki offers, pointing to a bloody cut on his eyebrow. “I mean it didn’t work and then he punched me, but I tried. Really did.”

“Dude,” Tommy warns, shaking his head. “Not really helping, my man.”

“And then to make matters worse, he sees me with Axl and then--.”

“Wait, Axl?” Nikki asks, eyes widening. “Axl Rose?”

“What were you doing with him?” Tommy questions, frowning.

You’d never told them about your childhood best friend. For one, they wouldn't approve. And God only knows what would happen if they met Axl in the street after finding out you were once close to him.

“Axl and I go way back,” you confess, swirling the wine as the memories resurface. “He was my first best friend. We were friends all through high school too, that is until I left to move here. Since then I hadn’t spoken to him. I actually bumped into him today while I was picking up lunch. First time I’ve seen him in seven years. We went back to the store to eat lunch together and I lost track of time. And then in comes Vince.”

The picture is ingrained in your brain. Vince stumbling in. The anger and rage on his face. The surprising calmness on Axl’s. And even though you couldn’t see your own face, there had to have been a mixture of panic and horror.

“You know this gives Vince even more of a reason to hate him, right?” Nikki asks. “He’s not going to let you near the guy.”

“I don’t care,” you state, standing your ground. “I finally have him back in my life. I won’t let Vince ruin my friendship with Axl.”

“Your what?”

Slightly sober, Vince struts onto the deck in only a pair of silky white shorts. Mick follows sheepishly behind, avoiding your gaze.

“What are you doing awake?” Standing from the pool, you give Vince a hard look. Nikki and Tommy heave themselves up onto the deck, coming to your defense if necessary. “Go to bed, Vince.”

“Since when are you friends with that self righteous prick?” He questions angrily, lips curled in a snarl. “He’s nothing but trouble, Y/N. Stay the fuck away from him.”

“You don’t even know him!” It was just like old times. You coming to Axl’s defense. Only this time, he wasn’t around to witness it.

“People talk, sweetheart. This is Hollywood. You think I don’t know about him? About his fucked up childhood? How his step-dad used to beat the shit out of him? About how he was bullied his entire life? The guy’s got pent up rage brewing, Y/N. He’s a fucking hothead.”

“He’s nothing like you try to convince me he is. I’ve been friends with him since I was ten years old, Vince. I was the fucking person protecting him. We were best friends until I moved to California.”

“Oh so he’s a pussy too,” Vince concludes, arms crossed over his bare chest. “And you’ve been here for seven years, baby girl, and not once did he try to contact you. He’s a dick. Open your eyes.” Vince spits, disgusted that you’re defending him.

“He didn’t know where to find me, you asshole!” Tommy’s hand lightly squeezes your shoulder, but the touch isn’t comforting. Shoving his hand off your body, you step up to your boyfriend, who leans against the side of the deck. “The sad part is, he tried. When Axl moved to LA, he tried to find me. Asked anyone and everyone if they knew who I was or where he could find me. And if it wasn’t for you and your stupid fucking label keeping me hidden from the public eye all these years, I would’ve had my friend back.”

Vince groans dramatically, hanging his head. “Goddamn it, the same fucking conversation. You know why you have to stay under the radar.”

“It doesn’t mean I like it or agree with it, Vince!”

Mick holds out a hand. “Hey, guys, maybe we should take this inside--.”

“God, don’t I mean anything to you?” Your voice cracks. “Don’t I deserve better than this?”

Vince hangs his head, hand on his hip. “I really don’t know what you want me to do.”

Grabbing his chin, you make him look at you. His jaw clenches under your touch. “I want you to fight for me. I want you to say ‘fuck the label’ and treat me how I deserve to be treated as your girlfriend. Take me out in public, show me off, kiss me when the cameras are on us. Goddamn it Vince, I want you to love me. Why can’t you do that?”

Mick stares.

Nikki whistles.

Tommy elbows Nikki.

This isn’t how you imagined your night. The last thing, the very last thing on this Earth you wanted to do right now, was fight. Your bed had been calling your name ever since you set foot in the house. It’s eight-thirty at night and you’re exhausted. You should have just gone to sleep.

Vince had no answer. Shaking your head, an empty laugh falls from your lips. “You know what? I’m done. I’m done doing this with you. I deserve more than an alcoholic boyfriend who can’t stand up to his label, and who treats me like I’m his bitch. I deserve better. Even Axl fucking knows I deserve better, and he hasn’t been in my life for seven years,” you say, stepping back. “Maybe I should date him instead.”

Vince does the unthinkable.

When his hand collides against the side of your face, the wine glass shatters against the wooden deck as you stumble. Nikki catches you as Tommy leaps over your body, towering over Vince to shield you as Mick grabs Vince’s shoulders, watching the scene unfold in horror.

“Are you fucking crazy?” Nikki shouts, pulling you to your feet, pushing you behind him. “Are you kidding me, dude?”

“You think you’re tough hitting a woman? Huh?” Tommy taunts, shoving Vince’s chest. “Huh?! Get your shit together, man!”

Reality hits Vince as Tommy continues to shove him. Choppy breaths leave his lips, eyes wide, jaw dropping. He swallows nervously, glancing at his hand, before his eyes lock back on you. “B-babe?”

There’s no hesitation as you push past the four men, throwing open the deck doors, snatching your purse, and sprinting for the front door. They’re all shouting for you, but Vince’s voice is crystal clear as it stands out.

“Baby, wait! Please!”

He chases you out the door, but you’re already running down the street, legs on fire.

“I’m sorry! Babe! Please, come back!”

You run. You run as fast and as far as your legs can carry you, weaving in and out of people crowding the sidewalk. A few call out to you, asking if you need help, but you keep running until you end up back at your store.

And as soon as you reach the store, it begins to rain.

And then you break.

Tears mixing with the rain, you collapse on the pavement, letting the water soak your body. Your hair is damp, clothing drenched, and you don’t even have any shoes on. You’re a mess, physically and emotionally.

You remember that your car is still parked on the street from having to drive Vince’s back home, and you run to it, settling in your seat as the rain pours down from the heavens. You’re alone, and the sound of your cries is louder than the thunder that accompanies the downpour.

You can’t go home. Not yet. You don’t want to see him, you can’t. Your cheek still burns from the sting of the hit, and if you see your boyfriend again tonight, one of you may end up dead.

The notepad. It’s in your purse.

You fish it out along with your phone, dialing the numbers with your thumb. Holding it to your ear, you choke back a sob as the man on the other end of the line picks up on the second ring.

“Are you home? Can I come over, please? I need you.”

~~~

In the corner by the TV, Izzy Stradlin sits on a chair strumming his guitar as Steven Adler lounges on the floor, drumming furiously on the TV stand with two wooden salad spoons. Slash is lying on the couch, hat covering his face, while Duff sits at the tiny kitchen table, enjoying a platter of buffalo wings all to himself.

Their heads turn as Axl walks through the door, more jubilant than he was before he left to grab lunch almost four hours ago. He shrugs off his shoes, fishing around in his back pocket for a pack of cigarettes.

“Where in the hell have you been?” Duff asks as he bites into a wing. Untying the bandana around his head, Axl lets his hair fall, shaking it, and runs a hand through it. “You left at two. It’s almost six-thirty.”

Axl’s smile broadens as he heads for the couch, pushing Slash’s legs to the side. The curly haired guitarist grumbles and flips him off. “I ran into an old friend today.”

“Oh yeah?” Izzy asks, setting his guitar on his lap, full attention on Axl. He’d always been that kind of friend. The one who stopped everything and listened if someone had something to say. “Who?”

“Y/N.”

Steven and Izzy exchange a look before Steven pipes up, “Wait. The Y/N? From high school? Like, I came to LA specifically to find her and couldn’t after all these years and somehow magically ran into her today, Y/N?”

Axl nods. “I ran into her at the restaurant and I swear my heart stopped.”

“Spoken like a lovesick fool,” Slash groans, flipping Axl off once again when he knocks the hat off his face. “First time you’ve seen her in what? Seven years? What’s up with her?”

Axl grabs a cigarette from the pack, lighting it. “She owns a bakery on the Strip. Cute little shop, not much business though. It’s a shame. She’s damn good at what she does. I tried one of the little chocolate cakes on display? Best damn cake I ever had.”

“I wonder what her cake tastes like,” Steven mutters to himself, snickering at his own joke.

There was a sparkle in your eyes whenever you talked about your bakery. It was your passion. From the decor inside the shop to the variety of desserts, it was clear that you dedicated so much to your little business. If only more people knew about it.

“She look the same?” Izzy asks.

Axl’s mouth twitches. “She’s even more beautiful now than I remember.”

“Oh fucking barf,” Slash teases, sitting up from the couch, brushing hair from his eyes.

“You smashing that?” Steven grins, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. Izzy rolls his eyes.

“Do you think of anything else?” Duff questions, shaking his head as he chucks a chicken wing bone at Steven’s head.

“Okay first off, no,” Axl points a finger.

“But you want to smash her?” Steven challenges, pointing a spoon right back at the singer.

Axl glares. “Just say fuck, Steven. Fuck. And second, Y/N isn’t just any girl to me. She never has been.”

“Then quit whining and go after her,” Izzy says, pursing his lips. “You’ve been in love with this girl since you were sixteen you told us.”

“Yeah and there’s one big fucking problem, Iz. She’s dating Vince Neil.”

Slash turns. “The bitchy blonde fuck from Mötley Crüe? Are you kidding me?”

“Their label is keeping their relationship on the downlow. Apparently it’ll fuck with Vince’s image if word of their love life gets out.” Axl sighs, scrubbing a hand over his face.

“How does that make sense?” Duff asks, standing from the table. “Wouldn’t it harm his image if they let him run around like a madman and shag a bunch of women?”

“You’d think,” Axl agrees, holding up his hands. “But apparently, that’s the kind of image they want their frontman to have. All I know is I need to get Y/N out of that relationship, and fast.”

Axl had promised himself he’d never interfere with any of your relationships. Now, he was considering going back on his word. You weren’t happy. He could easily tell by the way your body tensed around Vince, from the sheer terror in your eyes when he was mad or cursed or raised his voice.

“Look man, I know you’re in love with the girl, but is that really your place?” Steven asks, serious for the first time that night. “What if she really loves the dude? Who are you to try and ruin something good for her?”

Axl shakes his head, leaning forward on his knees. “He drank a whole bottle of Jack Daniels and drove drunk to Y/N’s store. It might not be my place, but I’ll be damned if I sit around knowing she’s in harm’s way and I don’t do anything about it.”

~~~

“Ah, shit, sorry about that fellas,” Duff says, slapping his guitar. “Take it from the top?”

Axl nods, yawning, before checking the time on the clock. Eight-thirty and it feels like two in the morning. To wake himself up, he goes to the fridge for ice water, only to be interrupted by the screeching of his phone.

He picks it up. “Hello?”

“Are you home? Can I come over, please? I need you.”

He knows your voice without even needing a greeting. It’s soft over the phone, and Axl’s gut tells him something isn’t right. “Yeah, of course. Is everything okay? You remember the address?”

“I do. I’ll be over in ten minutes.”

You hang up quickly, startling him, before he hangs up and turns to his bandmates. They look at him curiously. “Y/N’s coming over.”

~~~

Your wet feet slide against the metal stairs as you ascend toward the address Axl had given you earlier that day. Looking from door to door, you shuffle down the chilled hallway, warming your arms, until you find yourself out front of apartment 6C. Christ, this place was more like a hotel with all the damn rooms it had.

You knock timidly, but loud enough to be heard.

The door opens. Axl stands in front of you, gray cutoff covering his top, white sweatpants on his legs. He looks warm, comfortable, and you want to hold him. His face falls when he sees your soaking wet figure and bare feet.

“Hey sugar,” he says softly, and it tugs at your heart. “Let’s get you inside.”

And when you step foot inside the apartment, you're greeted by four other men, all staring at you as if they’d never seen a woman before.

The first blonde shakes his head. “Damn, bro. You weren’t kidding. She’s hot.”

You laugh slightly, looking at Axl, moreso to see his reaction. His cheeks are noticeably pinker. “Steven, fuck off. That’s not even what I said and you know it.” He turns back to you shyly. “These are my bandmates. From left to right, meet Steven, Izzy, Duff, and Slash. Guys, meet Y/N.”

The one named Slash steps forward, giving you a nod. “Wanna see my snake?”

Oh, he’s bold. “Um...is that like...code? For your penis or something?”

And they all burst out laughing. Even beside you, Axl lets out a chuckle.

“No, he literally has a pet snake,” Izzy says, hiding a smile.

Oh. Whoops. “Then, sure. I guess so.”

A smile spreads across Slash’s face. “I like her.”

Axl wraps an arm around your shoulder, leading you down a hallway. His room is surprisingly neat, with only a few hats and bandanas scattered around. He rummages through a drawer and hands you a tee shirt and sweatpants. Without thinking, you begin to pull off your damp clothes.

“Uh,” Axl licks his lips. “I uh-.”

“Don’t act like you haven’t seen me change before,” you tease, turning your back to him. “And don’t act like you’re not enjoying it, either.”

“Hey, you won’t get any complaints from me,” Axl grins, eyes roaming over your backside.

Fully dressed, you spread out your arms, showing off the new attire. Both the shirt and sweatpants are extremely comfortable. And they smell like him, too. “How do I look?”

Axl swallows the lump in his throat. If he wanted to name all the ways you looked absolutely beautiful, you’d both be there all night. “You look like you belong in my clothes.”

You give a half smile before following Axl out into the main room. The rest of his bandmates are in different parts of the apartment, and they all give you smiles as you walk past them.

“Y/N, are you hungry? There’s some left over pizza in the fridge.” Izzy offers, pointing toward the kitchen.

“Damn it, I was planning on eating that for breakfast tomorrow,” Steven pouts, chucking what appears to be a wooden spoon at Izzy’s feet.

A chuckle falls from your lips as you settle into the couch, instantly relaxing as a blanket is draped over your shoulders. You look behind yourself just as Axl comes around to the front of the sofa, settling back in the spot beside you.

“Do you want to watch a movie or something?” He asks, grabbing another blanket for himself.

You shake your head, positioning yourself so that your head rests gently in his lap. It was something you did as kids. Whenever you were upset but didn’t want to talk about it, you’d settle into his lap. He’d let you lie there for as long as you needed, always making sure to scratch your head or run a hand through your hair. It was his way of letting you know he was there.

And just like when you were young, Axl’s hand finds your hair, lightly kneading your scalp. Your eyes flutter shut briefly, sinking into his gentle touch, and when you open your eyes, Steven and Izzy are standing to leave the room, sending not so subtle winks in Axl’s direction.

When it’s just the two of you, you’re finally at peace.

Until Axl asks the question. “Does Vince know you’re here?”

Chewing on your lip, you pull the blanket closer to your neck. You could only hope that Axl would leave it alone after you answered. “He’s the reason I came here.”

Why Vince truly hated Axl was a mystery. He’d never explicitly told you. Thinking about it, you couldn’t even come up with a reason.

“Did something happen?” He presses. Not that he’s nosy, but because he cares.

Sitting up, you tug the blanket around your body, legs curling in a pretzel. Axl watches you carefully, and the three words he never expected to hear crash into him like a wave on the shore. “He hit me.”

Blood drains from Axl’s face. He blinks twice, letting the words settle in his head, before sitting up straighter, body locking. “He did what?”

“It’s no big deal,” you brush it off. You had to. If not, you’d be a puddle of tears on his couch. “It was an accident. I said something and it triggered him. Plus, he was still a bit drunk from today. I instigated everything. It was my fault.”

Axl feels rage ignite in his body, fists clenching as he listens to you wrongfully blame yourself for Vince’s actions. His fingers twitch, itching to meet with Vince’s face, give him a taste of his own medicine. Because no one, no one, laid a hand on you and got away with it.

He grabs your jaw and you flinch. He sees it now. The outline of a hand on your cheek.

He softens his grip but makes sure to keep your face close to his own. Tears gather in the corners of your eyes, but he knows you won’t let them fall. “I’ll make him pay.”

“Axl--.”

“No, listen to me,” he says, forehead against yours. He’s breathing deep, heavy, angrily. “I swear to you, I will make him fucking regret the moment he put his hands on you.”

The roles are reversed. Once the victim, now the protector. In this moment, this very instance where your bodies are only an inch away, noses brushing against each other, lips centimeters apart, you see Axl in a whole new light.

And there’s now a part of you that wants to find out what would happen if you pushed forward gently and kissed him. Would he pull away? Kiss you back?

But you don’t find out. Instead, you’re the one that pulls back, fingers twisting around his wrist to keep his palm flat against your burning cheek. There’s something between you. You felt it the second you bumped into him at the restaurant. A certain force, a pull, bringing you together.

“I can handle him, Axl.” What you’ll say isn’t clear. It could end in tears, in a fight. Or, on a brighter side, it could end in forgiveness. “When I see him tomorrow, I’ll just—.”

“You don’t need to go back there,” Axl says, almost pleading. If he has to get on his knees and beg he’ll do it. He’ll do anything to make you stay. Keep you safe. “Stay here with me. You’re more than welcome here. You know that.”

His heart, his caring soul, his love for you shines through. He’d turned into such a wonderful, handsome, courageous man, but even you could still see some glimpses of the boy he used to be. He wants to protect you, but he’s nervous. Nervous for you. “I want you to hold me. Can you do that?”

He nods, quickly kissing your forehead before he pulls you down, nuzzling the side of your head as you sink into the couch. It’s a tight fit, but he manages to wrap both arms around you. You’re safe this way. And after a few more moments of talking, and Axl promising that he’d come to your home tomorrow to help you bake the cupcakes for Lei’s son’s party, you fall asleep blissfully in his arms.

[babysizedfics]

romans teen tantrums

(continues below the cut bc it got long)

tw swearing and arguments (lighthearted)

patton sighs when roman storms back into his room for the fourth time that day and slams the bedroom door loud enough to wake baby vee

after him and logan sigh in relief that roman is at least no longer arguing with them, logan starts comforting vee who is very confused and teary after being woken up

and then the whole house RUMBLES as upstairs roman turns his music on full volume

"I'm not okay, I'm not okay, well I'm not okay, I'm not o-f*cking-kay!"

logan groans and does his best to comfort vee as she starts whining from the vibrations and holding minty over her ears

patton puts on his stern dad face 'that's it I'm talking to him'

'good luck, love' logan calls after him as patton marches up to romans room

patton knocks on romans door and he DOES plan to be stern, but when roman opens the door and pouts at him and groans 'what am i doing wrong now?!' patton just cant bring himself to reprimand him. the poor kiddo is just experiemnting with this new headspace after all! its not his fault

so patton assures him he didnt do anything wrong, but could roman please turn the music down as its upsetting vee.

he holds back a gasp when he sees roman's face turn very grumpy and sees romans eyes go glossy with tears - again. 'everythings always for vee! i literally just wantt to listen to my music, dad!' roman yells

patton winces and compromises by telling roman he can listen to his music as loud as he wants if he uses his headphones, but otherwise on the speaker he has to turn it down

roman huffs and throws himself into his room to grab his headphones and throw a pointed glare at patton as he turns the headphones volume up to the max.

patton smiles and gives him a thumbs up then goes back downstairs - pausing in the hallway to give himself time to breathe deeply and rub at his eyes tiredly - but when he returns to the living room and lifts vee into his lap and explains to logan how he got ro to turn the music off, logan growls in frustration

'patton thats a terrible idea, its going to damage his hearing!'

patton counters tiredly 'lo its only for today it wont be permanent'

'you're encouraging him to form a habit!' logan yells, clearly on a short fuse today

baby vee starts whimpering and wriggling in her papas lap, meanwhile patton is trying to cradle him and keep him from wiggling to the floor while looking at logan incredulously

'excuse me, i am not encouraging any of this behaviour!' he argues back

logan just shakes his head as if he has no time for this. 'im going up to tell him to turn it down'

patton feels a bubble of hot frustration swell in his chest. 'logan for goodness sake if you do that he's going to be even more upset!'

and that was louder than patton had intended because now vee is fully crying, and patton hurriedly apologises and shushes her but it does nothing to stop the tears

logan rubs his face harshly with his hands feeling a headache coming on. 'well he will just have to deal with that emotion, won't he?!'

he goes up to romans room ignoring pattons hushed protests

when logan knocks and receives no answer he peeks into the room and roman glares at him for coming in, he has to SHOUT above the music to be heard 'your dad and I would like you to - Your dad and i w- TURN IT DOWN, ROMAN!'

then roman FINALLY takes his hesdphones off and yells right back 'why are u yelling at me mom?!'

and logan is so TIRED. 'to get you to hear me over your damn music! turn it down, roman, youre going to damage your hearing!'

at that roman goes D:< and instead of turning the volume down he turns off the music COMPLETELY and shoves his headphones off his head and throws them and his phone onto his beanbag

and logans like oh god not again because when roman looks back at logan he has angry tears in his eyes for the FIFTH time that day and he sends a wicked glare to logan before flopping down on his bed facefirst

'mmphfaphmfamhph!!!' roman yells into his pilow

logan braces himself, takes a deep breath, and says calmly 'roman i cannot hear you if you speak into your pillow. please sit up and say that again'

roman pushes himself up from his mattress, angry tears overspilling from his eyes and running down his red cheeks 'YOU NEVER LET ME DO ANYTHING FUN!' he yells, furious

logan is interanlly like roman.. yes we do... PLEASE for the love of GOD, CALM DOWN

but outwardly its calm. besides the twitch of his eye. 'i hear your concern roman, but i cannot speak to you civilly if you do not offer me the same level of respect. now can we please take a deep breath, lower our voices, and speak like adults about what is bothering you?'

and instead of doing any of that, roman just throws himself back onto his mattress and screams into his pillow , louder this time so logan can hear the pleasant message from his son:

'F*CK! OFF!'

logan is DONE with patience and maturity so he simply shouts 'FINE!' and leaves and forgoes pattons worried questions to march out of the door and go on a walk to cool down because he doesnt want his family to see him so angry

then the next day when logan has a migraine oncoming and patton has heavy bags under his eyes and virgil is only semi verbal, roman comes down to the breakfast table with a spring in his step and practically singing good morning to everyone

and when patton delicately asks how roman feels he responds very confidently 'I'm great! :D this middlespace thing really helps me relax! :D'

...

it wont always be like that they just need to figure out how to interact with teen roman to get him to listen to their concerns and strike more of a balance, this is romans rebelious experiemental phase of middlespace where hes trying to figure out how this headspace works and how it can help him

[writtenfan]

♦Dancing with The Dangerous yet Devilish Devil♦

Part 3/3: Supernatural Lucifer x Reader

Warning: ♪ Some Badass Dance Moves ♪

✦  1 ½ weeks Later✦ 

“How long have these demons and angels been coming after you?”

You look up from the recliner and take another sip of the drink you had on the end table.

“Well...It’s only been a few. Just a few…” you sigh as you rub your eyes.

“That doesn’t matter. They obviously are seeking you out. But why?”

You look over at the Angel and give a sleep delirious chuckle as you rock yourself up from the chair. He looks at you with an emotionless face.

“Well, maybe its because...Lucifer found some surprising interest in me.” You throw the can towards the wastebasket and it hits the rim and lands on the floor.

“Darn.” 

The Angel steps closer to you with a concerned look on his face.

“How so?”

“He like...like likes me” you laugh with a sad expression as you start feeling woozy and he supports you by guiding you back to the chair.

“Sit.” and so you do.

He gets you some water and lets you sit for awhile before he pops back in the room.

“So. They’re trying to kill you because Lucifer favors you or…”

“...They keep mentioning that they want to, take me back to him. To get in his good favor.” you close your eyes. “A few wanted to kill me, but somehow I always managed to get out of being slaughtered. You laugh and lean back.

“Apparently he’s been sulking in Hell like an absolute mess, having temper tantrums that keep re-decorating the whole “fucking” (he air quotes ) underworld..to think its because of you-

“-A depressed Lucifer is the best Lucifer I say” the gruff voice walks into the room eyeing you cautiously.

“Your sure their human, right Cas?”

“Absolutely.”

“Fine.” He stares at you and points “I don’t wanna be babysitting, but if Lucifers messing with ya I cant let that stand.”

You sigh and look up at the clock on the hotel room wall.  

“Yeah...messing with me…”

♡~Music~ ♡ ←--You hear music start to play from out the window and with confused expression all three of you walk towards it.

Outside, in the alley, in a black suit with an untied tie, and hair that has been tried to be syled but got frizzled on the way...

...Was a dancing Lucifer.

He pointed to you, even with the, now three guys looming over your shoulder with shocked expressions.

He backed up, shimmying his shoulders as he pointed to you, mouthing the words, walking in place and striking a Micheal Jackson pose with a hip thrust at the most perfect part.

God, he had such a fucking fantastic dad bod.

He then made a gesture with his hands and the music box in the corner paused and he got on his knees in the post-rain alley muck and raised his hand to you as if for worship.

“(Y/N) Please! I know I’m fucked up! But I will do anything in this universe and beyond to make it up to you...” he says with a surprisingly serious tone.

 “I cant function without you...I miss you. I miss you so, very very much.” he looks behind him and gestures and a couple of people burst out the entrance of the alley and the sound starts back up and he starts singing with the words along with the...demons?

He flipped off the sky at the God part of the song and, wow damn he could really put the emotion into it his music recital.

During the instrumental music part. Dean turned to you mouthing you wtf. But you all had to cover your eyes as a sudden light show erupted from the alley, You shielded your eyes as you peered back out and saw that the demons were dancing with sparkers in sync as Lucifer began to levite rather dramatically, hands up to the sky, drifting towards the window. 

“Ah, Hell No.” said Dean as he shut the window and the blinds and hurried you towards the door.

“Come on, we have to get you out of here.” he says facing you as he  opens the door. But the music suddenly fills the room and Lucifer comes bursting in with about 6 demons and he tones the music down at a “I was wrong…” part. 

(Music can be paused now~)

The demons space themselves throughout the room, no weapons drawn just people in fighting stance, and so were the boys but with guns and knives drawn.

“Sammy, Dean...Cassssstiel.” he sang

Sam and Dean positioned themselves in front of you and Cas right behind you.

“You either leave or you'll have some trouble Lucifer.” said Sam as he furrowed his eyebrows.

“Oh, I think I wont.” He laughs.

 “But you will... if you don’t give me back my soon to be (Queen/King) i’ll cut all of  ya’ll’s (he gestures to them with a smile and does a slicing motion) “throats”. 

“Lucifer.” you say with a croaky tone.

He snaps his face to you with a love stricken expression and looks you up and down.

“On Dad, you look exhausted, c’mere…” He gestures for you to come to him, which you don’t do and he brushes this off by returning his focus to the Winchester’s crew.

 “My, you boys don’t know how to treat a (lady/gentleman)...I mean What kind of mattress is that?!” He gestures to the bed. “Is it made out of a Little Ceasers Pizza box?”

“(She/He) isn’t tired because of the mattress quality Lucifer, (she/he’s) tired because you've been sending demons to abduct them.”

He gasps dramatically and looks at the guys behind him who look back nervously.

He raises a hand to his chest. “Me? nooooo….no, no, no…”

You catch his eyes and he lets out a low whine. 

“Check up maybe, but no, no abducting!”

“And to kill (her/him)!” Said Dean with a growl.

The air around the room got warm, and tingly as Lucifer stiffened and looked back at a few demons.

“Kill (her/him)?” His eyes grew red. His tone made everyone in the room nervous.

He turned his head and focused on the demons.

“You guys know anything about this?!” 

They all said their no’s, never’s and not at all’s but this didn’t satisfy him.

“You recognize anyone here sweetheart?” You shift your gaze to one woman in the corner and before she had a chance to protest, Lucifer clutches his hand towards her.

Magma spewed from her mouth and onto the floor and her demon essence disintegrated leaving a body to melt in the flames that were now burning the wooden floor.

“Nobody will harm (her/him), ever.” He points to the rest, then he turns his focus back to the men besides you.

He looks back at you with pleading eyes and reaches out his hands.

“(Y/N) please come back to me...I-I’ll do anything. I’ll try my best to be the “better guy”...I just, I need you, I want,  you!” You look at his face and you feel something that you couldn’t hold back.

“Stop being creepy and let leave poor (guy/girl) alone. They’re human Lucifer, you’ll just play with them and  get bored and we won’t let that happen.” Dean says as he places a hand on your upper chest to push you back towards the window.

“You get your hand off (her/him).” Mutters Lucifer with a deep drawl and a spark of red in his eyes. 

“Dean-“ 

“Now unless you want to have more of a problem you’ll go-“

“-Dean!” You shout and all eyes turn on you.

“Thank you...but.” You look at Lucifer with tears in your eyes.

Lucifers expression gets serious as he sees you cry  and he starts whispering “no no no…” as he reaches out to you. 

The boys almost lurch forward, but you press them back and walk towards Lucifer with an angry but sad and exhausted look on your face.

“No no...don’t cry. Don’t cry...why are you crying. I’m sorry. I’m sorry…” Lucifer coos as he pulls you in and presses your forehead against this chest and rests his cheek against your head.

“I would never play with you and get bored. Not you. Your too special to me. Never. I never would…”he whispers to you as you wrap your arms around him.

“You better not start treating me like that you asshole. You understand?!” You pull away from him and look him in the eye as he try’s to reach out for you again.

“I promise I’m sorry. I-I didn’t know how to deal with the fact that I loved you…” his face, sunken looks at you. And pulls you in once more and you breathe in the cherry cologne he had on.

“...ugh, what?” Sams voice made Lucifer look up then made him look at the demons and with a swift snap, all the demons disintegrated.

You pull back at the noise as see the dust fall and you look back up at him with an eyebrow raised.  “Come on, can’t have them living after seeing me so venerable can I?” He says with a smile.

You surprisingly smirk back and hit him playfully and he turns you around to face the Winchester’s.

“As for you guys…” he raises his hand and you quickly place your hand over his.

He looks down at you. 

“Fine. Yeah alright, woohoo ♫ ~ Even the most important person in my existence stands you guys yeesh.”

He rolls his eyes and he kisses your cheek then takes your hand.

“Say bye bye to the hunter boys, because all I want is some Grade A snuggle and binge watch time.” 

You pull your hand from his with a laugh and look over at the Winchester’s.

“Thank you guys...you see, I never really got over him…”

Dean opens his mouth but you gesture for him to stop and he does as he lowers his gun.

“I- I thank you for helping me...I really do, I hope to see you boys again.” 

With that Lucifer gestures a peace-out sign to the boys, places his arm around your waist and your snapped into an entirely different place.

“What the fucking hell was that”

[alfredosauce50]

What makes me human [Cyberpunk! America x reader 10]

Wordcount: 5,809 Rating: T for strong language and mild violence “Can’t you see that none of this is real? You’re living in the past, dumbass! It’s all a dream! If you don’t wake up soon, you’ll regret it!” Chapter synopsis: Half-dead, Allen falls into a strange realm of existence. It's nothing he's seen before, but it feels awfully familiar. He soon learns he's stuck in the past, and it's all in his head. He'll do whatever it takes to wake up and save Alfred from his demise he once played a part in. The reader is referred to as she/her.

Songs to listen to while you read (in order as found in playlist): 2049, Ghost in the shell - Original mix, Something about us, Cloudy day, L, The voice in my head. I have indented song titles throughout the chapter so you can change accordingly. Starting now:

2049, Ghost in the Shell - Original mix

“His condition is stable. He’s in a coma, but he’s gonna be fine.”

“A coma? For how long?”

Where were the voices coming from? Was there one person or two people speaking? He couldn’t tell. But his interest quickly changed to another subject.

Am I dead?  

With whatever brain activity he had left, that question was the only thing he heard repeating in his head like a broken record. 

He couldn’t see anything, let alone feel anything as he drifted into an abyss of nothingness. In fact, it was so empty, he couldn’t even say it was darkness he was engulfed in. Just nothingness. Was this what people experienced before walking over to the other side? Or was he going to be stuck here forever? Allen couldn’t tell. Not when there was no concept of time in this strange realm of existence, anyway. 

His eyes shot open. It took a few moments for his vision to adjust, but he came to realize he was sitting in his car. Huh. Was that all a dream? Whatever it was, it had escaped his mind so seamlessly, he couldn’t remember anything. Leaning forward to peer out the window, he was greeted with an onslaught of neon lights. Neon signs, holograms, and posters surrounded him from all angles and heights. At least that told him he wasn’t far from home. Turning to the front, he attached his hands to the wheel. Now, to get back. 

If he drove around for a few minutes, he’d surely pinpoint his location relative to Arthur’s auto shop. Revving up the engine, he heard it purr to life. As a small grin stretched over his lips, he pulled out of the cul-de-sac to move to the main street. “I missed you too.” He murmured, never letting his gaze stray from the road. Eventually, he made it to a familiar intersection. Before he could pass through it, he stopped and found himself staring at what looked like a police chase coming to an end. 

A helicopter hovered over a car stopped in the center. Over the fierce thumping of its blades, he heard a grungy voice barking out orders through a loudspeaker. He couldn’t make out what it was, but it didn’t look like they were followed. Not when the occupants in the vehicle were immediately shot upon stepping out–collapsing to the ground after a rain of machine gunfire blew them apart. 

“Jesus Christ…” He mumbled under a frown. “Poor bastards.” 

After they all dropped like flies, the helicopter took off in another direction. And just like that, they were gone. 

The police in Twilight city were ruthless as always. Quick to action, and yet, just as dismissive. But it wasn’t his business. So long as he played his cards right, he wouldn’t have to deal with them. Making a right turn, he breathed out a sigh as he made a detour. He never liked using alleyways. There was no saying if he’d run into a couple of weirdos in places like these. Speaking of weirdos, there was a couple of men huddling around a corner.  It piqued his curiosity to see them so interested in whatever it was they surrounded. Or more accurately put, who they surrounded. A girl. Slowing to a stop behind a tall bundle of crates, he leaned over to the right to get a better look. She was shaking in her boots, and her lips were trembling as she struggled to respond to the questions thrown at her. And how old was she anyway? 10? 11?

“That doesn’t look good.” Allen narrowed his eyes.

He climbed out of his car.  

Shoving his hands into the pockets of his bomber jacket, he approached the group slowly. But when one of the men took a hold of her shoulder, adrenaline surged through his veins and he burst into a sprint. When he got close enough, he grabbed said man’s shoulder before throwing his fist back. “Why don’t you pick on someone your own size?” Punching him square in the face, he sent him hurtling towards the ground. 

Immediately, his cronies responded by pouncing on the newcomer for giving one of their buddies a black eye. After a few minutes of violent tousling, he managed to beat them all into submission. 

Leaving them groaning and wincing in the dirt, he gave his hand a rough shake. Phew. He hadn’t had a good fight in ages. Giving his bottom lip a light tap to find a small blotch of red on his fingertip. And he won against three people too,  escaping with only a busted lip. Before he could gloat about it, he glanced around to find the girl. Where did she go? 

Assuming she ran away, he shrugged and moved back to his car. If she wasn’t here, then he wouldn’t be obliged to help her any more than that. But upon nearing his vehicle, he spotted a small pair of feet poking out from the back. Then, they proceeded to shuffle back to become completely concealed. Breathing out a chuckle at that, he rested his hands on his hips. 

“I can see you.” 

No response. 

“You can come out now.” Making his way around the trunk, the child buried her face into her knees upon realizing she had been discovered. A light frown downturned his features at the sight of her shaking like a leaf. “Man, am I that scary?” He murmured, lowering himself to his knees. “Hey, kid. I’m not gonna hurt ya. I was just passing by. I promise I won’t do anything.” 

She kept her face hidden, but her trembling seemed to calm. 

“Well, if you’re not gonna say anything, I’ll be on my way. Just make sure to move out of the way so I don’t run you over.” Standing up on his feet, he turned his back to her. Before his fingers could do so little as graze over the car handles, a faint voice piped up. 

“Wait!” 

Allen grinned and spun on his heel. “Yes?”

She stood up slowly, but kept her head low to avoid his gaze. Without removing her hands from her pants, which she was clenching at, she opened her mouth again. “Could you maybe… Tell me where the train station is? I got kinda lost.” The way she spoke was soft, breathless even, and more so than Allen’s who just beat up a bunch of no-good-doers. 

“The train station?” The redhead questioned. Not that he didn’t know where it was. In fact, it was only a few blocks down, but he had to think twice about sending a ten-year-old off to wander the streets around here. The same streets a police shootout just took place, and the same streets where she was approached by a couple of hooligans. “How about I drop you off? I’m not in a hurry. I dunno if you wanna walk around by yourself after what happened.” 

He said it before, and he’d say it again. This city was an absolute shithole. 

“R-really? But I’m not sure…” The enthusiasm faded as quickly as she lit up. “I don’t know you.” 

“And I don’t know you either.” Allen hummed. “So you’re just as dangerous to me as I am to you. Sound fair?” 

The girl furrowed her brows. 

“That doesn’t make sense. You’re way older than me.”

“Oh yeah? I’m only eighteen though. Lemme guess, ten? Twelve?”

“Thirteen.” She answered, relaxing just a touch at the sound of his age. At first glance, one would have assumed he was in his early twenties, but she was relieved to know she was wrong. “Are you still in high school?”

The man blinked. Was she warming up already? “Nope. I finished nearly a year ago. But that doesn’t mean I sit around all day with nothing to do.” He opened the car door to the driver’s seat. “You’re lucky I was out and about to get your ass out of trouble. So what do you say we keep it that way?” 

The ride there didn’t take long, much to Allen’s surprise. By the time his GPS revealed that they had arrived, he had slowed down near the curb in front of one of the tallest skyscrapers in Twilight city. Sliding the window down, he poked his head out to give his surroundings a gander. The blinding lights of the liveliest commercial center forced him to squint, but he could still tell this was the city center. And that only meant the residential lots were a little further down. 

“You sure this is the right address? There’s nothing but malls and stuff around here.” He shouted over the bustle of people crossing the streets and pounding of music. 

“No, this it the right place. I live right there in that building!” Climbing over to the side, she pointed at Matsumoto Optics. 

Exchanging glances with the said building, then the girl, he gave his head a light shake. “What do you mean, you live right there? Nobody–” He paused, feeling dread settle in his stomach. “Wait a sec. What was your name again, kid?”

“(F/N) Matsumoto. My dad actually owns the whole plaza.” 

He paled. 

“Holy shit.”

Why did it feel like a gun was pointing at him?

Because there was one. 

Whipping his head to the window next to him, he found himself staring straight down the barrel of a gun. While his heart broke out into a pounding frenzy, he came to notice that his whole car was surrounded by men in suits. Bringing out every kind of shootable weapon that existed, his blood ran cold at the sound of more than twenty firearms cocking at once. From every angle there was, he was aimed at by something. “Fuck.” 

“Put your hands where I can see them!” One of the men demanded.

Allen threw his arms up. “Alright, alright!”

Glass shattered. A hand shot through the broken window and hit him in the back of the neck, hard. “Gh-!” It knocked him out immediately. Then, his unconscious body was dragged out of the car with next to no grace.

So much for following orders. 

When he finally came to, all he knew was the throbbing pain in his neck, and the rope burns around his arms and wrists. Since they were tightly bound together, he could only blink away the fuzz in his vision. This day had to be the longest yet. All he remembered was waking up in his car completely disoriented, then saving a middle-schooler from a bunch of creeps. Where was this place? An office of some sort? How did he wind up here again? All he could do was speculate as he continued to kneel on the carpeted ground. 

“My daughter told me you saved her from a group of ruffians.” A low voice began, forcing him to look up. My daughter? Did that mean he was Matsumoto? The Takahiro Matsumoto? The most powerful person on the planet? The person whose name he heard every minute of the day from slogans? His suspicions were confirmed when he found himself gawking at a beast of a man, who stood a little over six feet with a long gray beard. 

Wait a minute, this guy was old? And this… Built? “If she hadn’t, you wouldn’t have woken up.” 

Allen tensed. 

“… Right. Well, I’m sorry for whatever I did. I didn’t know she was… A Matsumoto.” He breathed. “If I did, I would’ve let her ride the train herself. Didn’t think putting her in my car warranted a death sentence.” 

“But you are alive, boy. And she is too, thanks to you.” The older man graciously responded, giving his head a firm pat. Then, he lowered his gaze to meet the other’s eyes. “I see an unwavering sense of justice from you. There were three men you had to fend off to keep her safe, and you only managed to let them hit you once.”

“…”

“You have talent.” 

“… Thanks.”

“If you haven’t noticed already, I want to recruit you.” 

The redhead had to do a double-take. Were his ears playing tricks on him, or did he actually say– 

“You wanna… Hire me?” 

Matsumoto nodded. “Like I just said. You have the skills to be a bodyguard, and we are in urgent need of one.” An ominous light glinted in his dark eyes as he opened his mouth again. “Did you ever wonder why there was a job opening?”

Allen gave a nervous laugh. On second thoughts, maybe laying low in Arthur’s auto shop was the better option. “Thanks, but no thanks. I was just lucky today, and I’m not a pro. I think you’re better off hiring somebody else–” 

The other hardened his stare at him. “We have an elaborate training program to prepare you for your duties. I see no reason for you to reject.” With a swift flick of his wrist, he beckoned over a few men who had been standing on the sidelines. “These gentlemen weren’t half as good as you when they began. Now, they are the best any secret service has to offer. Their combat skills are impeccable, and their instincts refined to perfection.” 

When he sensed he had fallen right into a trap, he wasn’t wrong. 

“I wouldn’t imagine it to be hard for them to locate anybody residing in this city. Even your friend, Arthur, the British mechanic.” 

Seeing that Allen was now at loss for words, he smiled. 

“I believe it would be in your best interest to work for me, Jekyll.”

That same day he was recruited, his induction took place. And boy, was it a lot. By the time they had finished, night had fallen. Fortunately, he could treat himself to a hot dinner in the dining court before retiring to his room. He couldn’t say being given his own condo was unexpected, but when he stepped inside to become completely immersed in luxury, he was faced with a rude awakening. Up here where the air stretched thin over the blinking lights of Twilight city, he was reminded how out of place he was.

All his life, he was at the bottom. He grew up a street rat before he was taken in by a kind mechanic. And he taught him everything he knew. Never did he imagine he would ever be this high up in the clouds, working in a high-ranking position under a man comparable to God. And the longer he lingered on this reality, thrusted to him without his say, the hotter his eyes felt. There was no saying if he could go home again.

And that meant he wouldn’t be seeing Arthur anytime soon.

The next morning, he woke up the groggiest he’d ever felt in his life. Squinting at the window that happened to take up his whole wall, he was graced with a hot orange sunrise. It cast a pinkish haze over everything in his sight like a filter, but he was far too exhausted to appreciate the scenery. He checked his phone. 6:23 AM. Twenty missed calls and twelve text messages. Crap. He’d call him later. He needed to figure himself out first.

Giving his face a cold splash of water, he rubbed his eyes clean. Lifting his head to the mirror, he found himself staring at his reflection, which of course, stared right back. Did he always look this young? He snorted. What was he thinking? Of course he did. He was only eighteen, after all. Sliding himself in a dress shirt and pants, he finished off the look by throwing on a black blazer. Then, he gave his appearance a hard stare. “… Nope. This looks stupid.” Leaving the bathroom in a white tank and bomber jacket, he ventured out into empty morning halls to find the elevator.

Once he made it to the third floor, he began his journey to the training dojo. The walls were a beige white, the floors a polished wood, and there were shoji screens everywhere. He was washed over with a strange sense of déjà vu. But considering this was his first time here, that couldn’t be the right phrase. Jamais vu was more like it. He was here with the impression he’d never been before, but he somehow knew that was a lie.

And it was a gut feeling so strong, it was kind of eerie.

He couldn’t understand why he was feeling this way. And not being the thinking type, he chose to brush it off. He had enough to worry about already, so the last thing he wanted was to overthink a foreign environment. Maybe some exercise could clear his head— and that was exactly what he’d be doing today. His rigorous training program.

Entering a spacious room, he stepped inside to feel his shoes sink into soft tatami mats.

“Don’t even think about taking another step in here with those shoes on, Jekyll.”

A very rigorous training program.

***

Something about us, L

It had only been a few days since arriving here at Arthur’s, but you were slowly regaining your strength. With every new morning, you awakened with more energy than the last. Perhaps the small light of hope of seeing Allen do the same was what urged you to become an early riser. But like yesterday, and the day before, that hope was shattered at the sight of him unconscious in bed. He didn’t even move an inch.

Nearing his side, you lowered yourself to your knees and reached out to his cheek. Talking to him while he slept had become routine to you. You’d tell him about your day, everything you did, and all your conversations you ever had. If not, you’d reminisce the past so he wouldn’t feel left out. He never interrupted, and let you run off on tangents until you were sick of talking. “I really hope you wake up soon, Allen. I feel like… I’m talking to myself here.” Your voice was soft with a heart-wrenching kind of sadness, but you refused to linger on it.

After all, how could you expect him to wake so soon? You knew how strong he was, but it would be selfish to want something impossible. So you forced yourself to leave the room, figuring you would feel better if you focused on something else. Little did you know, someone had been lurking in the halls during your visit.

Alfred had his back pressed up to the wall outside while you dropped by, and he heard everything. And not even from just this morning. Everything you ever told Allen, he listened in on too. 

He knew better than to infringe on your privacy, and hear things that were better off left unheard. But he kept finding himself hiding outside in the hall, doing it again and again—even Arthur had caught wind of it. 

He heard footsteps clunking against the metal floor, but he never bothered to turn to it. Usually, Arthur would’ve kept on walking. But not today he didn’t. “If you like her so much, you should just tell her.” He’d murmur. 

Alfred whipped his head to him with his eyes widened ever so slightly. But he visibly eased seeing it was just him. And rather than denying his claims, he tore his gaze away. “I can’t.” His brows were furrowed for creases to form between them. Arthur was almost taken aback, having never seen him so frustrated. 

“Why not?” The Brit responded, resting his back against the wall beside the man. “It’s painful seeing you loiter out here all day. I’d say I felt sorry for you, but you’ve been eavesdropping on her for a while.” At the sound of that, the other’s cheeks flushed red. So his guess was right on the mark, after all. “She’s coming out right now. Might wanna make a run for it while you still can.” 

“Guys?” Another voice joined, forcing the two men to spin around. 

The mechanic bit back a snort. “Too late. I’ll be in the garage.” He whispered. Shooting you a brief smile, he turned on his heels to leave. “You two have fun now. I have lots of work to do today.” With that said, he disappeared to do exactly that, but not without a few chuckles under his breath. For the many years he knew the guy, he never found anything he wasn’t good at. There was nothing he couldn’t do. Looking over his shoulder, he caught a glimpse of Alfred with a hand on his neck, laughing nervously. 

That perfect track record was finally ending, it seemed. 

At least he wouldn’t have to watch him fumble around with his feelings for long. You and Alfred were planning to leave in a few days to God knows where, to do God knows what. Frankly speaking, he didn’t know what you were doing, hanging around such a shady guy like him. That was right. You two arrived with your bodyguard Allen, who was half-dead then, and barely clinging to life now. What the hell happened? Wouldn’t your father be concerned?

Maybe he’d ask Allen himself, if he’d awaken anytime soon, that was. For now, he’d stay on the sidelines and help Alfred repair his missing Mantis blades as he’d requested. He was restless without them, frequently interrupting his work with, “Are you done yet?” until he finished for the day. Arthur narrowed his eyes and clicked his tongue, shutting the garage door behind him. Whatever you two had planned, he couldn’t imagine it to be legal. 

***

Cloudy day

A few months had gone by, and he was finally getting settled in his new workplace. But there was no saying when he’d ever be forgiven for it. Not that he could even explain himself. What was he even supposed to say? I saved a girl from a bunch of creeps and put her in my car to take her home but she wasn’t just any girl and turned out to be the daughter of Matsumoto himself and now I’m being threatened to work for them because they know where you live. That surely wouldn’t fly. Especially when he went through all that just to be a glorified babysitter. 

He just knew Arthur was buried up to the neck with work, now that he was alone. Breathing out a sigh at the thought, he rolled his head to the said girl sitting by a cherry wood coffee table, whose nose was buried in a book. 

“You ever get bored reading stuff all day?” He began, stretching his arms across the backrest of the couch. 

She shrugged. “Sometimes. But I have to study, otherwise I’ll fall behind.” 

Allen nodded, stretching his lips into a flat line. “Fair enough. Well, I did just graduate high school, so if you need any help with… Math or whatever, just let me know.” Surely, seventh-grade level wouldn’t be too difficult for him.

“Mm… Thanks, but I don’t think you can help me with what I’m doing. This is like… College level stuff.” You gave him a sheepish smile, to where he gawked at you in response. 

“Wow, you a genius or something?” 

“I don’t think I am.” 

“You’re just being humble, kid. It’s fine to be proud of yourself, ya know. ‘Specially now, cuz it gets kinda annoying when adults do it.” Allen grinned, hopping up from his spot to give her hair a ruffle. She could only hang her head to hide the embarrassed pout on her lips. Fortunately, their height difference let her do so. 

“Thanks, I guess…” It was only when he pulled his hand away did she look up again. In her line of vision was a chest of drawers, and she reached out to point towards it. “Also, could you mind checking if my USB’s in there? I think I left it in one of the drawers yesterday.” 

The redhead spun around. “Sure, no prob.” 

Pulling out one of the compartments, he rummaged around random bits and bobs until he caught sight of said USB. Besides the connecter, the storage disk was fairly long and flat. This thing could’ve stored hundreds of terabytes of data if it could. That translated to hundreds of computers’ worth of information. Picking it up, he held it in his fingers to give it a brief study. Before he called over to you with his lips separated ajar, he found himself entranced by it. 

But what was so interesting about something as common as a storage disk? For some reason, the small object in his hand resonated with him. It was… So familiar. As if he’d seen something like this before. Or perhaps, it reminded him of something he forgot about. Problem was, he didn’t know what. And it was a gut feeling so strong, he couldn’t seem to shake it off. 

The voice in my head

That night, he was called to his superior’s office for a security briefing. Appearing through the tall double door, he walked in with his hands in his pockets. Situated deep in the room, and just by the window overlooking the blinking lights of the city, was his desk, and the man Matsumoto himself. His chair spun around to reveal a bearded man well into his seventies with a light scowl on his face. “I expect you to wear the uniform suitable for these occasions, Jekyll.” 

Allen blinked before rubbing his neck. “Right, sorry. Forgot.” In all honesty, he considered showing up in a black tie and all, but it wasn’t the most comfortable fit in the world. “So, what’dya call me in for?”

The other clasped his hands together and gave him a firm stare. “Even in my company, you have moments of… Stepping out of line. Breaches of discipline.” He gestured to his attire, letting it do the speaking. “I may overlook some inconsistencies in exchange for your services, but there is one rule you must not break under any circumstances.” 

Silence fell in the room so you could hear a pin drop. It gave Allen some room to think–to guess what his superior was going to warn him about. A secret basement that locked up human guinea pigs he wasn’t supposed to stumble into, perhaps? But that was ridiculous. So he stayed quiet, prepared to listen intently to the man. Surely, his guess was far from reality. 

“There is a… Basement a few floors beneath the lobby.” 

Allen froze. He’d heard this before. 

Otherwise, how else could he guess that he’d say this? 

“I keep my most prized possessions in there. Personal vehicles and upgrades. Nothing goes in and out undetected. So don’t even think about stepping inside.” He couldn’t believe a word he said, as calm and convincing his tone was. 

Allen had an idea why. 

He sensed something was off the minute he came here. It was all so obvious–the familiarity of the dojo halls, the USB, and even his face in the mirror. He’d seen it all before. Previously, he’d brushed it all off. But he couldn’t deny it any longer now that he had this conversation, a conversation he already had. So if his intuition was right, that meant he could guess what was actually in the basement. And there were no fancy sports cars to speak of. 

He gritted his teeth as his tanned complexion began to pale. Then, his stomach began to churn. 

“… Are you unwell?” 

He lifted his head and shook it. “Nah. Just lost in thought.” 

“You may lose yourself in the emptiness in your head as much as you desire, but not in my presence. If you don’t have any questions, you are dismissed.” 

“Yessir.” 

Turning on the spot to leave, a deep frown downturned his features now that he wasn’t facing him anymore. Something was terribly wrong. And he was about to confirm it. A couple of hours later when the whole building fell quiet, he snuck down to the basement floor through the elevator. And while he ran through the pitch-black halls to the door in the end, he couldn’t get this thought out of his mind. He’d definitely done this before, too. 

Swinging the door open, he was greeted with a familiar stench of death. But he didn’t have time to gag. Running to the two pods, he never bothered turning on his night vision. He trusted his body and his muscle memories to guide the way. And it was the right call, because he found himself standing by the pods in no time. Lifting up one of the hatches to find a mummified corpse, he stared with an unreadable expression. 

He wasn’t even surprised. And that was really telling, considering he would’ve vomited at the sight. But this only solidified his suspicions. This wasn’t new.

Nothing was. 

Turning to the other pod, he fiddled around the latches for a minute or so before giving in. This one couldn’t be opened, not without proper authorization. Okay, this was new. He didn’t remember this pod being locked. So he jabbed his fingers into a couple of buttons, unable to resist his curiosity. He couldn’t leave any stones unturned. Thankfully, his rapid button smashing eventually did do something to reveal what was inside. 

The glass that was previously fogged up cleared. 

Inside lay a man. A blonde. His skin was flawless in save for the outlines of removable plates. He was a cybernetically enhanced individual, but not one he wasn’t already acquainted with. 

“We put him to sleep for fifty years…” 

“By the time he gained his consciousness, we turned him into a killing machine.”

 “Even to this day, he remains my greatest creation.“

Fragments of his memory began to play in his head. All until he could remember the name of the sleeping figure. It was Alfred. And he had yet to wake up to go on a killing rampage, or in other words, the first time they’d ever meet.

Allen eventually retreated back to his condo. The first thing he did was go to the bathroom and splash cold water to his face. If he wanted to figure out what the hell was going on, he needed to clear his convoluted mind first. Either he was a psychic or stuck in another reality. But he wasn’t bright enough to be a psychic. And interdimensional travel wasn’t invented. Yet. So what could it be?

While he rubbed the bridge of his nose with his wet fingers, his train of thought was interrupted by a voice. And it sounded just like his, but deeper. 

Glancing up to the source, he found himself staring at his own reflection in his mirror. But he came to realize it wasn’t him–rather, it was an older version of him. They had the same face, eye color, and hair, but the person who glared back at him had sharper features, and a more defined jawline. Unbeknownst to him, it was the subconscious of his present self.

“What the hell are you doing?” He hissed.

Slamming his hands against the mirror, the loud bang caused Allen to jump. “Can’t you see that none of this is real? You’re living in the past, dumbass! It’s all a dream! If you don’t wake up soon, you’ll regret it!” 

Allen dug his hands through his hair, and before he could even question him, panic overwhelmed his system. Not that he needed to, because everything he was just told made perfect sense. “W-Wake up? But… But how?”

“What do you think genius? You have to die!” The other screamed. “If you don’t wake up soon, Alfred and (F/N) are gonna get away with the chip! You can’t let him put it in his head! The Soulkiller will destroy him!” 

Fuck. 

He felt himself tense up in all reality as more memories flowed back to him. That was right. He was in a coma after being stabbed by a katana. He remembered how desperate he was as he fought to stay awake, all so he could warn Alfred he was falling into a trap. But he failed, and wound up in another realm of reality. His dreams. And if he didn’t wake up soon, there was going to be hell to pay. 

Shoving his hand into his jacket, he pulled out a gun. 

Then, he exchanged wary glances with his subconscious, who nodded at him. 

He cocked it. “If you’re wrong… And I die in real life…” It wasn’t like he had anything to threaten him with, though. “Let’s hope I don’t.” Sliding the gun into his mouth, he screwed his eyes shut. Then, he pulled the trigger.

Shooting up with a loud gasp, he finally awakened from the longest trauma-induced sleep he’d ever had. Almost immediately, he heard somebody else let out a scream of genuine fear. “Ah–!” By the foot of the bed he was laying in was Arthur, and he’d fallen right out of his chair. “Jesus fucking Christ! If I’d known you’d wake up like that, I would’ve sat further away!”

Standing back onto his feet, he was never fast enough to stop Allen from sliding himself off the bed. “Hey– watch it! You can’t move right away!” 

“How did I get here?” 

Arthur stepped back as his friend loomed over him. “Well–I’m not sure how you fell into a coma, but it was Alfred and (F/N) who brought you in.” 

Thank god.  “And where are they now?”

The other shrugged with a look of defeat. “I don’t know, honestly. All I know is they’re doing something dangerous. Alfred wouldn’t leave before I helped him install a new set of mantis blades.” 

“Fuck!” He hissed, feeling his heart sink to the pit of his stomach. Bile was even rising in his throat as he reflected on the possibility that Alfred was already dead. “I was too late. I was too fucking late.” Shaking his head as heat accumulated behind his eyes, he paused for a moment, letting hot tears of frustration run down his face. Then, he gripped Arthur’s shoulders when he was hit with an epiphany. With the slim chance they only left recently, he still had time. 

“How long have they been gone for?”

The blonde pondered for a moment, but the concern in his eyes never faded. “Only a week, give or take. Why? What’s wrong?” 

Before Allen could breathe out a sigh of relief, he was gripped with a panic-inducing sense of urgency. “That means I can still save him!” If he remembered correctly, the Soulkiller virus needed at least two weeks before the damage became permanent. So if he could somehow find you both in seven days, he could save Alfred. “No questions. I’ll explain in the car! We have to find them as soon as possible!” 

He would’ve been dead if it weren’t for him. 

So in return for saving his life, he’d do anything to save his too. 

[trashyswitch]

The Muddy War of The Twins

Young twins Roman and Remus are playing in the mud! It's King against Duke in a War against the Mud kingdoms. Which twin will be victorious? Or, will the twins become one kingdom?

Tickletober day 21: Playing Dirty

“I AM REMUS! DUKE OF MUDDY CASTLE!” Remus shouted, standing on a pile of mud.

“WHAT?! WHAT ABOUT ME?!” Roman shouted, standing on another castle.

“You’re the king, silly! BOW DOWN TO THE KING OF DIRT STAIN!” Remus declared, bowing down himself as well.

Roman giggled and cheered. “Yes! Thank you, thank you all! As your new king, I will give you all farm jobs! So you can become rich!” Roman declared.

“Or, you all can join ME! Where you can become rich, WITHOUT working hard!” Remus declared right after him.

“But- you get to work with animals! What could be fun about NOT doing work? You’d get bored!” Roman reacted, feeling annoyed.

“Not if we have mud wars to start…” Remus replied as he made multiple mud balls. “I DECLARE WAR ON DIRT STAIN!” Remus shouted.

“COME ON, MEN! LET’S SHOW MUDDY CASTLE WHO’S THE #1 KINGDOM!” Roman shouted to his fake audience. Roman and Remus both let out loud war cries and started throwing mud balls at each other.

The creative twins were shirtless and completely drenched in mud! The mud ball war only made their muddy exterior even worse. Roman kept throwing mud balls at Remus’s chest and legs, while Remus was aiming for his chest and face! While Roman was well aware getting mud in the eyes really hurts, Roman was also aware of how strong he was! So, he could handle some muddy eyes!

It didn’t take long for the kingdom leaders to gang up on each other. “Surrender now, King!” Remus ordered.

“NEVER!” Roman shouted back.

“Then I shall unlock my most powerful weapon…” Remus warned.

Roman giggled as he went along with it. “oH nO! It CoUlDn’T bE…” Roman reacted.

“That’s right, King Roman…” Remus said with an evil giggle as he rolled up his mud-made sleeves, “Fear! My! FINGERS!” The Duke shouted.

Remus started squeezing Roman’s sides and tickling Roman’s belly button! “hehEHEHEHEY! NOHOHOHOT THIHIHIHIHIS!” Roman shouted.

“But of COURSE! The most evil of weapons MUST be used to take over your mud kingdom! My weapon? TICKLING!” Remus declared proudly.

Roman squealed and only squirmed around more in the mud. “REHEHEHEHEMUHUHUHUS! IHIHIHIHIT TIHIHIHICKLEHEHEHES!” Roman laughed.

Remus gasped. “WhAaAaAt?! It’s not SuPpOsEd To TiCkLe! It’S sUpPoSeD to HuRt!” Remus reacted sarcastically.

Roman shook his head and tried getting him back. He reached his arms up and managed to give him a hip squeeze! “aaaAAAH! Ohoho!” Remus jumped before grabbing his wrists. “Not happening, bro!” Remus said with a smirk.

In an attempt to get the upper hand, Roman placed both his feet against Remus’s chest and gave his body a push! It actually worked miraculous wonders and managed to push Remus right off into the mud puddle!

SPLASH! Remus went! If he wasn’t covered in mud before, he DEFINITELY was NOW!

Roman quickly crawled himself on top of Remus and started successfully squeezing his hips. “Wahaha-HAHAHAHAHAIT! HAHAHAHAHAHAHA! UHUHUHUHUNFAHAHAHAIR!” Remus shouted.

Roman scoffed. “Since when was war ever fair?” Roman reminded him.

Remus guffawed at that statement amidst his laughing. Remus knew very well that Roman had a point. But he couldn’t actually tell him that because of Roman’s constant tickling. “THAHAHAHAT’S TRUHUHUHUE, IHIHI GUEHEHEHESS.” Remus managed to tell him.

Roman smiled and gave Remus a small break. “Glad to know you agree!” Roman reacted.

“Joseph Stalin, tho! He was the most unfair of unfair people!” Remus added.

Roman tilted his head and upper body back and forth in uncertainty. “Eeeehh...Adolf Hitler was also pretty bad.” Roman added.

“But Stalin killed SO MANY PEOPLE!” Remus added. “But someone else managed to beat Hitler AND Stalin COMBINED:” Remus added.

Roman dropped his mudball. “...Who? And how many?” Roman asked.

“Mao Dezong. And 78 million people were killed in 33 years.” Remus replied.

Roman widened his eyes and looked down. “I don’t wanna play war anymore.” Roman told him.

“Those wars happened decades ago.” Remus added, before looking at Roman and noticing his fearful face. “Hey...we can join forces if you’d like. We can be the Dirty Castle.” Remus suggested. “We can be the ultimate duo kingdom! And the best part?” Remus declared.

Roman looked up in hope.

“Little bloodshed!” Remus replied.

Roman smiled and stepped on the mudballs he had created earlier. “It’s a deal, Duke.” Roman replied as he shook Remus’s muddy hand. Remus smiled and made an official shake before taking a bit of mud and rubbing it on his forehead like a type of ritual. “King Roman of Dirty Castle.” Remus declared, holding his muddy arm up. When Remus let go of Roman’s hand, Roman bowed to the new mixed kingdom and put his right hand up. “I, King Roman of Dirty Castle, promise to be a loyal, brave and intellectual leader alongside the Duke.” Roman said to the invisible crowd.

“WHAT IN THE WORLD ARE YOU TWO DOING?!” someone shouted from a few metres away. Roman and Remus looked to the right and widened their eyes:

Patton had found them! And Logan was with them! UH OH!

Logan took off his glasses and rubbed his nose. “Boys, boys, boys...What am I going to do with you?” He asked rhetorically in slight annoyance but mostly amusement.

Patton stormed up to them. “You two are covered in mud! Honestly!” Patton reacted, rubbing the mud off Roman’s forehead. “Some of it is already dried onto you!” Patton added in horror.

“Aww, come on Dad! We were having fun! We were having a mud kingdom war, and we just made a truce when you came out!” Remus reacted.

Patton groaned. “War games?” Patton whined in worry.

Logan nodded his head in curiosity. “Hmm...Sounds like you two signed an Act of Union and became one kingdom then.” Logan reacted. He giggled as he pointed at Remus. “Scotland, I’m guessing…” Logan then pointed to Roman. “And England.” Logan assigned.

“Awww yeah! I’m a SCOTTISH VIKING!” Remus shouted in a mediocre scottish accent.

“And I’m the Biscuits and Tea Country, known as England!” Roman declared in a fairly accurate english accent while lifting his pinky finger up and pretending to drink a cup of tea.

Logan was giggling at the two, before he was elbowed in the shoulder by Patton. “What?” Logan asked.

“We need to get these two hosed down.” Patton told him. “Where are your shirts?” Patton asked.

Roman and Remus both pointed to the car. Sure enough, their black and green costume shirts were laying on the engine hood of the car, slightly wet and dirt-stained. Patton sighed and decided to grab both kids hands and drag them to the water hose.

When the water hose was turned on towards their bodies, Roman full on shrieked and started shivering right away! “IT’S FREEZING!” Roman shouted.

Meanwhile, Remus didn’t mind it and actually tried to drink the water despite the mud from his face running down into his mouth. “Remus, stop drinking the water. It’s not drinkable!” Logan ordered.

Remus just laughed. “Tastes fine to me!” he declared back, sticking his tongue out to him. Logan rolled his eyes and continued to wash the kids off.

When the water reached their bellies however, both of them bursted out laughing and squirmed around like crazy! “IHIHIHIT TIHIHICKLEHEHES SOHOHOHO MUHUHUHUCH!” Roman shouted, struggling to cover up the ticklish spot with his hands. Logan kept constantly moving the hose around, making it almost impossible to cover up any ticklish spot!

Remus had already collapsed onto the ground, and was kitty fighting the air while he flopped around and rolled all over the place. “Remus, hold still!” Patton begged, bringing the hose water to Remus’s legs and aiming at his thighs. Remus went BALLISTIC after that! “NAHAHAHAHAHA! THIHIHIHIHIHIHIGHS TIHIHICKLHLHEHEHEHEHEHAHAHAHAHA!” Remus shouted at Patton.

“I know, but this would go a lot quicker if you stopped moving!” Patton told Remus.

At the same time, Logan was washing the back of Roman’s scalp off. This was making Roman all giggly and super squirmy. “Ihihihihi cahahahahan’t! Tohohohohohoo tihihihicklihihihish!” Roman giggled.

“Funny...Your brother is getting tickled even worse than you. I don’t think you should be complaining, Ro.” Logan warned.

When the kids were hosed down enough, Patton and Logan summoned them some towels and let them dry off. The kids were all giggly and squirmy by the time the tick-I mean hosing down, had finished. Thankfully though, the giggles seemed to die down by the time they got into the bathtub.

Logan and Patton were both washing the twins. Patton was washing Remus’s hair, while Logan was rubbing a sponge on Roman’s back.

Roman let out a relaxed sigh. “I feel like a king.” Roman told his brother.

“Me too, bro.” Remus said, melting from the scalp massages.

Patton rolled his eyes but giggled at the silly kids. It didn’t take long for the calming bath to turn playful as Patton tickled Remus’s neck. “Mmmm...this feels- BAHA! HAHAhahahaha!” Remus said before being interrupted by surprised laughter.

Patton was smirking and scratching at the back of Remus’s neck. “Feeling relaxed yet?” Patton teased.

“NOOOHOhohohoho! Come ohohohon!” Remus begged, reaching his arms up and over his head to grab Patton’s hands.

Roman couldn’t stop the evil snicker from leaving his lips as a mean idea came to mind. Roman poked Remus’s right armpit and scratched a finger on Remus’s left armpit.

“HahahAHAHAHAHAHAHA! ROHOHOHOHO! STAHAHAHAHAP!” Remus shouted to him, dropping his arms down and squishing Roman’s fingers. Remus’s laughter and Roman’s evil giggles echoed through the bathroom more, thanks to the poor soundproof walls. Not only that, but the water was causing the sound to bounce all over the place as well! That just made the room almost chaotically echoey!

“OHOHOKAHAY, OHOHOHOKAHAHAHAHAY! YOHOHOU CAHAHAN STAHAHAP!” Remus ordered. “WEHEHE UNIHIHITEHED, REHEHEHEMBEHER?!” Remus asked as well.

“Oh, I remember. I just wanted to tickle you.” Roman teased before retreating his fingers.

Remus’s laughter slowed to giggles a little and went slightly limp. But the giggling continued to plague him, thanks to Patton’s nimble fingers STILL tickling his neck.

“Okay, Patton. You can stop now.” Roman suggested.

“What if I don’t wanna?” Patton asked.

Roman sat himself up straight and made himself look triumphant. “I, King Roman, order you to cease your tickle attacks on the Duke of Dirty Castle!” Roman ordered proudly.

“Oh?” Patton reacted with a smirk, before looking at Logan.

Logan gave him a smirk back and wrapped his arms around Roman’s bare chest. “Now YOU listen here, King Roman of Dirty Castle! I am a king too! King of this household! And YOU shall bow to me!” Logan ordered, tickling Roman’s upper ribs in the process.

Roman shrieked and bursted out laughing! “BAHAHAHAHA! HEHEHEHEYYY!” Roman laughed, squirming everywhere and splashing water all over the place.

“Goodness gracious! We have a fighter here, Padre.” Logan warned. “Should I cease or continue? If I continue, you may end up getting wet or worse: get your glasses wet.” Logan warned.

Patton bursted out laughing at that and leaned back. “You have glasses too! And they’re gonna get wet as well!” Patton added.

“Well, looks like we’ll both have to sacrifice our sight to conquer THIS kingdom…” Logan decided.

Roman and Remus looked at each other with confident smirks on their faces. “I’ll get Logan!” Roman declared.

“I’ll get Patton!” Remus declared back.

“rrRRAAAAAAAAWWWWWWRRRR!”

The twins screamed to their older sides and started tickling the daylights out of them! Their wet and soapy fingers only increased the ticklish sensations, and made their fingers more slippery while tickling. It didn’t take long for Patton and Logan to fall onto their back, and for Roman and Remus to jump onto them and continue their war against the other kingdom!

Even after being hosed and bathed...the twins never truly forgot about the war games they played. The only difference was:

There were more players! ...whether the adults liked it or not.

[jovialyouthmusic]

Silver Service

So, this is the final chapter. Have we seen the end of Anton? Will Olivia say yes? At last the answers are here!

Word Count 2592

WARNING Death of a major character (but no suprise)

A/N You haven’t seen the last of the characters in this series, but this is the end of the story for now, and many loose ends are tied up and stowed away. The very first chapter of the prequel ‘Protect and Serve’ was posted in April 2019. That means I’ve been writing about Bastien and his LI Sophia for 17 months, and possibly around 200k words. I’ve already written some shorts and short series about the continuing adventures of ‘Basphia’, and I will go on doing so - but this series finishes here. Thanks for reading!

22 This is the End, my friends...

The last day of the Winter Games and Fair dawned in Lythikos. Olivia stirred, feeling Liam’s arm thrown over her hip, and groaned, reaching out to the bedside table for a dry biscuit to quell the nausea she felt. She sat up, munching away and making sure the crumbs stayed on the bedcover and not on the sheets. Liam rolled over onto his back and turned his head to gaze at her. He stayed silent as she finished the biscuit, then sat up beside her

‘Is that herbal remedy not working?’ he asked. She shook her head

‘I had the last of it yesterday, and Lucretia refuses to get me any more. She says a little suffering is good for the soul’ Liam raised his eyebrow and made a wry face.

‘I’m sorry to hear that’ he said. She drew a deep breath and turned toward him, her face grave.

‘I’ve made my decision’ she said, and Liam’s eyes widened. ‘I will be your Queen’ He let his breath go, and picked up her hand to kiss it.

‘You make me so happy’ he said, smiling broadly ‘I know it won’t be easy – we both need to work at this, but I think we’ll be good together. And our child will be cherished’ he gently put his hand on her belly. ‘I’d like to announce it at the closing ceremony’

‘Of course’ she said, placing her hand over his ‘and the pregnancy?’

‘Not just yet’ he replied ‘We can deal with any speculation about that later’

-------

The day progressed well, excitement growing as the finals of each event was held, and the stallholders had one last chance to sell their dwindling wares, happy at their success. At midday, Liam received news that the machines had been turned off at the hospital, witnessed by Lord Rashad. The press asked him for a statement, and he made sure to inform them that the decision had been taken by the Council, with he and Olivia abstaining from the vote.

‘It is with a heavy heart that I hear that Lord Anton has been taken off life support this morning. The Council was assured that his quality of life was very poor. There is a very small chance that he may survive independently, but it was thought it would be a mercy not to let him linger further, with no family or loved ones to care for him. I await to hear of his final passing, and will mourn for a young man who lost his way in fighting for what he believed in. He will be made as comfortable as possible, but that is all that can be done. I thank you for your attention. May he find peace at last.’

Thankfully, Anton’s situation did not mar the tone and excitement of the day, and the finals were followed and enjoyed avidly. The medal ceremonies were watched by a huge crowd who waited for the final speeches. Olivia made another stirring address about harmony between all the duchies which was well received with much cheering and applause, but everyone was eager to hear the King speak. He began by praising both participants and sponsors and congratulating the medal winners. He echoed Olivia’s sentiments of Cordonian unity and at last he came to the moment he had been hoping and planning for the last few days.

‘Citizens of Cordonia, I have an announcement that I hope all of you will rejoice in. It has been but a short time since I learned I was to be your King in my brother’s stead, and even less since I announced that I would take no Queen. I know that many of you feared for the succession and continuation of the Monarchy, and for that I apologise. As you know, I plan to hand over much more power to you, my loyal subjects, and am working on legislation to make this a reality. However, over the last few weeks I have realised that having a Queen by my side would be beneficial to both myself and to the country. To that end, I have asked Lady Olivia to rule with me, and she has consented’ a murmur ran through the crowd, and he paused to let his words sink in. The murmur grew louder, and people started to rise to their feet, at first clapping, then raising their voices, cheering, stamping and shouting congratulations. Liam’s throat tightened, and he held out his hand for Olivia to take and stand close to him. She smiled broadly and waved as the crowd went wild, and any further words from him were impossible. The press surged forward and cameras clicked and flashed and clicked again, capturing the moment as Liam turned to Olivia and kissed her on the lips. She willingly melted into it, drawing him closer as her Lythican spirit kicked in. Finally nothing more could be said, and the two of them retreated to the Lodge with the help of the King’s Guard. Bastien drew them aside into Olivia’s office.

‘My sincere congratulations your majesty, Lady Olivia.’

‘Thankyou Bastien. I think the wedding will have to be held very soon, and I have yet to work out when to announce the pregnancy’ Liam replied. Olivia looked happy but pale.

‘I’m sure you will come up with a good plan, but I am at your service and will offer advice if you need it’  

‘Is there any more news of Severus?’ Olivia asked

‘It appears he is slowly deteriorating. May I ask permission to visit him in hospital?’

‘Of course. I don’t think it’s appropriate for either of us to go, but I’d like to have a reliable witness at his end. Of course, any member of the Guard is sufficient, but you may feel some satisfaction in being there.’

‘Thankyou Sir, I shall indeed. I’ll leave shortly.’ Bastien bowed and left the room to make his way back to the Capitol.

-------

‘Are you sure about this?’ Sophia asked, Bastien at the wheel as they travelled the long road back. She had already been packed ready to leave the next day, and it only took Bastien a moment. They didn’t know how long Bastien would be at the hospital, so he had to be prepared to go wherever the King was.

‘Never more sure of anything, theá mou’ he replied ‘I will get closure, and can report back to the King when he’s finally gone’ He briefly turned his head toward her. ‘You know I will never forgive him for his crimes, most of all for what he put you through’

‘Agapé mou’ Sophia said softly. ‘I won’t come into the room with you, but I’ll be nearby. I can bring you coffee, and we can be together when it’s finally over’

‘Yes’ he replied ‘But if you need to rest, get one of the guards to drive you back to the Palace’

‘Bas’ she said, and her tone made him listen carefully ‘Does this mean you’ll be resigning as Captain?’

‘Formally, yes. I’ll be sworn onto the Council at their next scheduled meeting. That’s not for a week or so, so if you like, we can take a short break’ Eyes on the road, he heard her gasp.

‘Oh Bas, that would be wonderful’ she breathed ‘I’d love to be near the sea’

‘Greece is still warm’ he said ‘It’s not too far, so if I’m needed…’

‘You won’t be’ she said firmly ‘If I have to throw your phone into the sea, we’re going to have time completely to ourselves.’ He chuckled softly.

‘My foster parents have a villa on the coast’ he replied ‘I’m sure they’d love to meet you – they don’t travel far now my foster mother’s in a wheelchair, but she could manage that’

‘I’d really like that. Mum and Dad have been hinting that they could visit us in December, so that would fit in nicely’

‘You don’t want to visit them instead?’ he asked

‘I’d rather go in Spring, make sure we have plenty of time. Now would be too rushed. I have so many places I want to show you’

‘And I you’ he smiled. ‘The sea will still be warm, so we can go swimming’ They reached the outskirts of the city, and Bastien set his face into his grim work expression. ‘We’re nearly there. Be strong, my goddess’

-------

Six hours later Bastien rose to stretch his stiff limbs, the steady bleep of the heart monitor slow and monotonous. There was no movement  apart from the shallow erratic rise and fall of Anton’s chest. He was still attached to drips for hydration and pain relief, and Bastien fought the impulse to tear out the medication tubes. He found himself hoping that even though he was shielded from physical pain, some part of his mind and spirit suffered torment. He remembered the words of the King, diplomatically expressing sorrow and regret. He knew he could never feel those things for the prone figure, and could manage only neutral words or silence when asked his opinion. The Captain of the Guard would never voice his thoughts to another living creature. He intended his role to end the second Anton’s last breath faded, so he sat again and waited, silent and watchful.

He jerked awake, his head falling forward as the muscles in his neck went slack. He blinked and registered the change in the heart monitor. It was definitely slower, and Anton’s closed eyes had somehow opened, staring blankly at the ceiling. Bastien sat up straight and called a nurse in to sit vigil with him. There was a CCTV camera in the room recording all that happened, but for this vital moment he needed another human to witness that he did not approach the bed or rise from his chair two feet away save to leave the room for a bathroom break or walk the length of the room to restore his circulation.

The nurse leaned over the bed and closed his eyes again, but as she stepped away, horribly they slowly opened again, his eyes still fixed on the ceiling. She stared at him in disbelief.

‘I’ve never seen that happen before’ she said ‘But then they say it’s a Lythican poison, so goodness knows…’ her voice trailed away.

‘Indeed’ Bastien said ‘The Council thought it merciful to let him slip away’ The nurse jumped as Anton’s body suddenly jerked, and the heart monitor shrieked its alarm as it lost signal. His back arched off the bed and she ran over to hold him down, pulling the alarm cord, and staff rushed in to help her. Bastien stood back, determined to have no part in the unfolding drama. Just as suddenly as he had convulsed, Anton’s body went limp, and the beep of the flatlining heart monitor echoed around the room, the shocked medical staff stepping away. At last Anton’s body lay lifeless on the bed and Bastien felt a ton weight lift from his shoulders. Still he sat for another half hour before he rose and left, leaving the body of Anton Severus alone and unmourned.

------

The news reached Lythikos, where Olivia and Liam sat waiting to hear. Olivia broke into tears, weeping uncontrollably while Liam held her.

‘He’s really gone’ she said ‘At last that monster is dead. He can’t hurt us any more’

‘We can go forward now’ Liam said gently ‘This is a new era for Cordonia – one of peace and diplomacy, with our two families united.’ He lifted her chin and gazed into her eyes. ‘You’re the strongest person I know, Livvy – but you can let your guard down with me. Any burden you bear, I bear it with you. We stand together, whatever life brings us’ Olivia smiled through her tears. Truly Liam was the only one she could be herself with, and although she hadn’t declared her love for him, she felt that might come with time. He had called her loyal, and that was a quality they shared. He had always stood up for her when they were children, and they may have lost touch for a while as teenagers, but he was coming full circle, and she hoped that would continue into the future.

‘Liam, you don’t have to demonstrate your statesmanship with me’ she said ‘You can just be Liam, and I can be Olivia. It’s that simple’ Liam relaxed suddenly, letting his forehead rest against hers.

‘You’re right, Livvy’ he replied ‘That’s what being King is like. I have to think about everything I say before I utter a word’ She laughed

‘Whereas I say what I think. Perhaps you should teach me about diplomacy. I’ll have to start by keeping my mouth shut.’

‘Passion has just as much a place as restraint’ Liam smiled ‘you just need to channel it’

‘It comes naturally to you’ she sighed ‘I’ll have to work hard at it’

‘I’m sure you’ll rise to the challenge. After all, Nevrakis always succeed at whatever they do’ Olivia made a sour face.

‘Then let’s hope Lucretia decides that you making me Queen is enough for her not to plot against you’

‘I told you, she won’t be the first or the last’ he assured her ‘Bastien may be retiring, but Lewis is a superb replacement and I’m sure we’ll rule together for a long time. I’m handing over more responsibility to the Council, so hopefully we’ll have more time to ourselves than my father ever had.’

‘You’re such an optimist’ Olivia smiled ‘Perhaps you can teach me that too’

--------

Anton was buried next to his father, last of his line and mourned only for show by Liam, Rashad (as a representative of the Council) and Lewis. Hints of a large power base held by the Sons of the Earth had dissolved, as had that organisation, disappearing like a puff of smoke. Claudius and the other men arrested at Valtoria awaited trial although most of them co-operated once they knew Anton was dead.

The Charity tour came to an end, and Liam and Olivia went back to the Palace, now clear after extensive security sweeps. The Royal Wedding and Olivia’s coronation was planned in one ceremony,  and it was decided that the pregnancy would be announced soon after. Olivia visited Lucretia and the old woman grudgingly congratulated her niece on her elevation to Royalty, but Olivia did not trust her to be out where she could harm Liam. She was charged with treason before it was decided that she was to be kept in a maximum security prison with strictly limited visitors awaiting trial.

Bastien did at last resign his position and take up his place on the new Cordonian Council of Citizens, but not before taking Sophia on a well earned break to meet his foster parents. Drake and Riley went on a trip to New York and Texas after the Royal Wedding, but decided to return to Cordonia while they worked out where their relationship was taking them.

By the time Olivia’s pregnancy was announced, the country had taken her to their heart, and few people criticised her for jumping the gun. The fact that there would be a new heir filled the gossip magazines, and the Royal Couple were in demand on front pages everywhere – not just in Cordonia, but Europe and further afield. It really was a new dawn for the country, and although all was not plain sailing, King Liam’s reign was set to be peaceful and prosperous.

THE END (for now)

@sirbeepsalot @stopforamoment @drakesensworld @katedrakeohd​ @texaskitten30​ @be-still-my-aching-heart @hopefulmoonobject @dcbbw @classylady1234 @rainbowsinthestorm @kimmiedoo5 @bascmve01  @ibldw-main @addictedtodrakefanfic @trappedinfandoms @ravenpuff02 @kingliam2019​

[ifyoulovemeletmebinge]

We’re All Monsters

destiel au where everything in canon is used at the wrong time and oh also cas is a monster. 

for @beingforcedtolivebadwriting

RATED M 

read it on ao3 here:

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Dean Winchester knows he hates monsters.

That’s one thing. It’s almost the first thing. In almost every situation.

Dean wakes up and all he can think of is how much he hates monsters.

Some of it comes from the fact that John is a shitty dad and that’s not because of him being a shitty dad. Dean can’t remember much at all from his life before the fire, but from what John tells him, they were The Perfect American Family. He knows that at least.

He also knows that because monsters fucked that dynamic up for his family, he hates them unconditionally.

None of that has been truer than how he feels tonight. Tonight, his hands are still shifty on the wheel of the Impala, tonight his feet are still struggling to reach the brake pedal without stretching, and tonight the sky is pitch black and the air is warm and humid, and tonight he’s gonna kill some monsters.

Well. Maybe not.

John’s instructions were to stop by (by which he means break in) the morgue, take an extra look at the bodies, and identify any marks that stand out for a tell of what kind of son of a bitch they were dealing with.

John usually does this himself, but Dean thought it best to not bring up the fact that his dad needs to drink himself to blissful unconsciousness on the week of the anniversary of his dead wife. The case was bad timing, thus, Dean is the lucky pick to do the dirty work.

Not that he minds. This is something he wants to do. This is something he craves. Dean has been getting taller and bigger and stronger, and his hands have been itching more, and he can’t stop shifting his weight, and lately he feels like doing something that will fully transition him into the man he’s supposed to be. Except all he knows is John, and John is a hunter.

But Dean doesn’t mind. He’s good with a gun, and he’s a quick runner (he would have joined the track team if John had let them stay past Christmas break at his last school), and if that’s all he’s got, he’ll use it to do something. He’ll figure it out.

He’d way prefer to risk himself getting arrested, and going to juvie (again), than Sammy. Sammy, who’s back at the motel. Sammy who’s hopefully, peacefully sleeping. Sammy, who he hopes won’t be awake to see John come back from the bar. Dean intends to make it back before that. It’s only 11pm. He’s got time.

Dean parks the Impala (he only struggles for a few seconds with it, alright) a couple blocks down from the police station. His shoulders crowd up around his ears, cotton of his sweatshirt brushing his jaw, as he walks, as silent as he can, between the shadows of the decorative trees in this stupid suburb, to the back of the station.

He’s already scouted the place earlier in the day, so he knows which window leads to the desired formaldehyde smelling room. The station is only one story high, so he’s easily able to unlatch the outside lock with his pocket knife, and heave himself up. He shimmies himself in (fuck, that window’s tight) and ends up doing a supported handstand on the morgue floor. He throws his legs to the side--only hurting his ankles a little on the edge of the window--and then he’s finally got both his feet on the ground.

Dean stands up from his crouch, slowly. Then he scoffs to himself. Who the fuck is gonna hear him in here?

He moves closer to where the target is. There’s a sleek metal table in front of him, and yes, there’s a dead person on it, covered by a thin white sheet. Dean searches for gloves in the dark, because he’s a teenage boy but he’s not that gross, and he snaps them on, pulling back the sheet and averting his eyes from the corpse’s face. He goes straight to where the money is.

At the junction between the corpse’s shoulder and jaw, right in the middle of the neck, there’s a big bite. It’s not anything his dad has seen before, as he kept complaining so much since they found the case, and Dean has to swallow back bile at how ugly it looks. Black and protruded, half scaly-like, half-raw ripped skin, at least under the moonlight coming from the window. He should have brought a flashlight.

Dean is cataloging the patterns to draw for his dad later, tracing his fingers over the lines carefully, really feeling the texture and the way it’s swollen the skin. He thinks he imagines the sound at first.

Then he stops his hand, and he thinks again.

That’s definitely a sound. Like a real movement that wasn���t him, and it’s coming—it came at least—from the room right next door, the main storage for the other bodies. Dean turns his head to look at the door, and oh, would you look at that, it’s peeking open to more darkness on the other side. Where the sound came from. Except how is there a sound at a morgue in the dead of night?

Dean was not prepared for this. His heartbeat starts announcing itself in his ears, and he’s almost vibrating with fear. He thinks of his dad. What would John do at a time like this? Probably start shooting.

But Dean didn’t have a gun. Even if he did, it could just be the doctor, or a policeman staying after (they always got in his way), and he can’t go around shooting random people. It’s hard to explain to a dead person: “Hey! Sorry! Thought you were a monster! My bad!”

Then he remembers his pocket knife, whips it out, and holds it tight in his right fist. Dean starts walking towards the door, but he wants to knock the whole wall down and skeet the fuck out of there.

He holds his breath as he gently kicks the door with the tip of his boot (he figured out a way to make Sam convince John to get him new ones, and yeah, these loggers are pretty fucking cool), and then he’s in the room.

The first thing he notices when his eyes adjust to how dark it is in there (honestly, would it kill a monster to turn on a light?), is the two figures bent over what he assumes is another poor corpse being taken advantage of. He also hears… ew. Those are chomping and chewing noises. He never gets the clean ones.

Dean doesn’t know what to do! Does he shout? Scare them? Lunge at them? Anything he does next could be the last thing he does. Is he ready to die?

Luckily, Dean doesn’t have to decide his first move because the figures do it for him.

It happens too fast—and maybe he’s reading too many comics because his first thought is I wish I had super speed like Barry so I could gank these fuckers, except he doesn’t, so it’s fast.

He’s on his back in a blink. There’s a bony arm on his neck and another holding one of his wrists in a grip so tight Dean wants to make a eulogy for his circulation. There’s also a normal-ish weight on his hips and his stomach, which suddenly lurches because fuck. Fuck. The monster’s on him, he’s pinned. And for some reason he’s still alive.

Still. Fuck.

After a moment of heaving breathing from the guy on top of him, the figure lurking around, and his own wheezing lungs, Dean grunts out: “You guys gonna eat me or what?”

The guy above him doesn’t let up, but Dean does feel the other one walking around. Like the ground shakes with his every step as he comes closer to Dean’s ears near the floor.

“Personally,” says Figure 2 from way above him, and Dean feels disoriented at how far away his voice sounds, “I’m fairly content. My son here, however… well, he’s just famished.”

Dean’s eyes flick to the guy on him, trying to make out his features but it’s just too dark, and all he can feel is the terribly tight grip on his wrist, the way his forearm is crushing on his neck, and—hey. His pocket knife is still in his hand. His free hand, the one trapped under the small of his back, where he can feel the butt of the handle digging into his skin slightly.

“Go on, son.”

Figure 1, aka The Son, seems to be hesitating, and Dean doesn’t want to wait till he decides if he wants more salt on him or not before the meal, so he wriggles his hand out, and drives it across his body and downwards in a surprisingly strong stroke. He knows he hit something when the arms on top of him lift up entirely, and there’s a pained groan resounding amid the darkness.

He rolls on his side, scrambles up, and flies out of the room, back into the main morgue lab, through the door, down and down the long hallway, past the reception desk, and he’s out the main entrance, not caring one bit about the obnoxious ringing of the alarm behind him.

His calves are burning by the time he throws himself in the Impala, and he clumsily fishes out his dad’s keys, turning the car on. He drives 50 above the speed limit until he gets to the motel.

Dean tells John everything. He draws what he remembers with shaky hands. He neglects to mention how many of them there were.

<15 years later>

“And then, like a fucking Clint Eastwood movie, he comes back home--”

“You mean the motel?” Sam interrupts.

“Yeah, whatever. So he barges in the door--” Dean frames a rectangle with his hands “--silhouetted by the moonlight, and he tucks his gun in and he swings his dirty machete over his shoulder and he tilts his head and then he says: ‘Boy, pack your stuff. Our job here is done.’ I mean… it was fucking awesome,” Dean chuckles.

“I think your memory is unreliable.”

“Sam, you were dead to the world that night. On my bed, might I add, so you didn’t even see any of this. John kicked ass!”

Eileen’s smile is a little forced, and a little awkward, but Dean can’t blame her. His energy is hard to match when he’s a few beers in. Sam keeps eyeing her, like he's checking in on how she’s receiving this story about their dad. Like she would ever judge him for it.

“He sounds like a brave hunter,” she signs and says. Dean feels way too proud.

Sam tries and fails to keep the grimace off his face. “Yeah. Babe, is it late? We should…” he trails off, tilting his head in the direction of their bedrooms. Eileen nods in agreement, seeming relieved. She squeezes Dean’s hands as she leaves. Sam is standing now, and he waits until Eileen is gone to turn his bitchface on.

“Dean, please stop doing that.”

Dean furrows his eyebrows. “Doing what?”

Sam sighs, exasperated. “Praising dad. I don’t know, sugarcoating him, painting him as the hero. You know damn well he wasn’t.”

Dean’s throat tightens. If that’s what Sam thinks he was doing, he really doesn’t know him at all. He's full of indignation when he answers: “That’s the last thing that I would do. I know firsthand, more than you, how shitty John was. Sam, I know. I was telling the story how I remembered it. ‘Cause back then? Yeah, he was my hero. I’m old enough to know better now, but--what the fuck do you care? You think I’m purposely lying to Eileen? For what?”

Sam can’t meet his eyes. “Dean, no that’s not what I-I just can’t hear that shit. It makes me… uncomfortable. I don’t wanna talk about dad like that anymore. I'd rather not talk about him at all, actually! I just… I can’t hear that shit from you.”

Dean balks, mouth open. He scoffs, “Fine.” He stands up and puts his jacket back on, checking his pockets for his keys and his wallet.

He’s halfway up the stairs when Sam calls from the library, “Dean, come on. Let’s talk about this. Or not! Dude, we just got back from a hunt, don’t leave. Let just-let’s forget about it, alright?”

Dean pauses at the railing. He turns around and shouts down at Sam: “Yeah, sure, Sammy! Let's forget our whole heritage. It never fucking mattered to you anyways.”

He’s slamming the door to the bunker closed behind him, and hopping in the Impala (which he didn’t have time to wash or put in the garage since their hunt), and then he’s off god knows where. He needs a drink.

Dean picks the fourth bar/restaurant place he sees. That seems like far enough away from his brother for now. It’s one he hasn’t gone to yet. Fun, new, and exciting!

He’s working on his third whiskey, maybe half an hour after he arrived, when the bartender puts down another glass in front of him.

Dean glances up. “Hey, um. I’m good for now, really.”

The bartender is tying his long cornrows in a ponytail on the back of his head, and when he meets Dean’s eyes, he gives him a shit-eating grin. He nods off to the side, “Courtesy of your secret admirer.” Then he winks at him and leaves for the kitchen behind him. Dean feels all warm inside at that, but he doesn’t have much time to revel in it before a man sits down on the stool next to him, a non-respectable four inch distance away.

Dean is appalled before he takes in this dude, and okay. Not bad. Looks about the same age, dresses like a grandpa from the trenchcoat he sees, has spiky black hair that Dean might want to run his hands through, and shit, fuck, he’s looking at Dean, say something!

“Hello,” the man says and whoa, who died and made you Batman? His lips are plumper than a guy’s lips usually are (look who’s talking, Dean) and chapped and they’ve got a nice shape. Dean likes the cupid’s arch on his upper lip, it looks classy. His nose is pointy, and maybe a bit small, but damn if it doesn’t work well with his sharp cheekbones. By the time Dean can register his eyes, all his brain can think of is wow.

Dean’s never seen bluer eyes. They’re as clear as the sky, but Dean feels like he could drown in them. Or maybe that’s just the way this man is looking at him. Dean’s rarely been stared at with this much intensity, and he feels a blush spread to the tips of his hot ears.

He clears his throat. “Hi.” Dean has to look away now, back to his own glass before he combusts. He’s surprised a dude like him would buy him a drink.

Apparently, the man can’t sense how awkward and unprepared Dean was for this because he starts talking again, keeping his voice low so that only Dean can hear him, so it’s only a rumble in his chest. “I hope I’m not overstepping. You looked like you needed some company. Is that the kind you like to drink?”

Dean is so flustered at the sheer… whatever this dude has, he has to remind himself this is a normal human interaction. Be nice. Make eye contact.

“Yeah, it’s uh--it’s great. Thanks. For buying it. Um, I’m kinda driving tonight, though, so I might want to stop at this--” Dean raises his own drink in his hand “--You can-you want it? I'd be a waste otherwise.” He’s cringing so bad inside that his stomach hurts.

The man levels him a neutral stare. A few seconds later, he nods and reaches over to pick up the extra whiskey. Dean follows his hands and fuck they’re nice. He’s got long fingers, and for some reason the way his metacarpals shift under his skin is incredibly attractive.

The fun doesn’t stop there though, because then the guy is bringing the glass to his mouth, and he’s not taking his eyes off Dean’s own wide ones, and he’s taking a drink and it all looks sinful. The way his trachea shifts as he swallows, the opening and closing of his enticing jaw, and especially the way his pink tongue peeks out from his mouth to lick at the rim of the glass.

Dean swallows what feels like sandpaper.

“My name is Castiel,” he says, putting the glass down, holding it between his hands like he's bracketing it. He shifts his hands and the glass follows, rotating back and forth.

“Dean.”

Castiel nods, his lips quirk up a little, and this might be the first sort-of smile Dean has seen from him.

“Why’d you buy me a drink?” he blurts out.

The grin grows by a millimeter. “You looked like you needed one.”

Dean snorts. “That bad, huh?”

“Maybe that good.” Dean sees a peek of teeth from Castiel and he can’t help but shiver.

Dean recognizes it for what it is, so he turns on his own charm, slipping into familiar flirting territory.

“So what do you do, Castiel?”

Castiel’s eyes flick to Dean’s mouth for the quickest moment, and then his mouth is a neutral plane again, smirk vanishing completely. He thinks for a few seconds. “I’m an accountant.”

Dean knows that could mean literally anything, except the guy is wearing a tie and there’s a trenchcoat, so yeah. He’s an accountant for real.

“Cool. Numbers, huh?”

Castiel narrows his eyes, like he’s squinting. Dean finds it both intimidating and endearing. “Yes. How about you, Dean?”

He blushes harder at hearing his name in that gravelly voice, but keeps his cool when he answers, rehearsed: “Odd jobs, here and there.”

Castiel doesn’t miss a beat. “Fascinating.”

Dean blinks. Okay. “Is it?”

“Yes. You must travel a lot.”

“I do, yeah,” he nods, feeling a little vulnerable.

Castiel is back to staring at him intensely, and it makes Dean’s veins sizzle a little with want. They’re upgrading from Flirting/Small Talk Territory to Let’s Go Like Now Territory. Dean’s breathing comes a little deeper.

“Would you like to travel right now?”

“What?”

Castiel is definitely looking at his mouth. “Would you like to go outside?”

Dean raises his eyebrows in surprise. This guy does not waste time. Not that he’s complaining, he’s been feeling hot all over since Castiel sat down, and he’d give himself at most another half an hour before he proposed they move this interaction somewhere else himself. So Dean downs the rest of his whiskey, feels the buzz in his ears and the tips of his fingers, and he stands up. “Let’s go.”

Castiel follows him outside.

The night is more humid than it should be for August, but Dean can feel the chill of Fall coming, and he’s grateful for his jacket. He’s shoved his hands in his jean pockets as he walks to the corner where the sidewall of the bar meets the front wall of it. He stops and leans one shoulder right at the edge of the wall to the side, facing the parking lot. Out of options for what to say, Dean waits until Castiel comes closer (his hands are in his trench coat pockets and it’s weirdly cute), and he points at his Baby, thirty feet away.

“That’s my car. She’s my Baby.”

Castiel stops two feet away from him, but right in front, and he turns his body to the side to follow where Dean’s finger points. He stares at the Impala for a bit, before he turns his head to Dean again. The light coming from inside the restaurant is what brightens Castiel’s face and Dean is a little breathless as he admires his illuminated features.

“She’s very beautiful.”

Dean smiles, proud and sheepish. “Thanks. Um, what about yours?”

Castiel inhales, taken aback. “Oh. I didn’t drive here tonight. I like walking.” he says slowly.

“Oh, okay.” Dean answers stupidly. It’s not that he’s disappointed they can’t talk about cars, it’s just… what else are they supposed to talk about at a moment like this?

“So what brought you here tonight, Cas?” Dean doesn’t catch himself in time, and the nickname is out. Oops. Castiel seems to inflate a little in response though, so he’s fine. For now.

“Rough day.” He says, then like an afterthought he adds, “At work.”

This dude is so fucking weird. Dean is obsessed with him.

Suddenly, he doesn’t want to wait anymore, he just wants to take what Castiel offered. He’s been wanting to taste him since he looked at his lips, so he smirks at Castiel and he asks, “Come here, Cas.”

For a moment Castiel tilts his head, and Dean can’t figure him out, and he kinda loves that, the anticipation of not knowing what this guy is gonna do or who he is. Dean beckons him with a hand. He’s drunk enough on the beers from earlier and the whiskey and the adrenaline drop from the finished hunt that he’s allowing himself this tonight. A little recklessness can’t hurt.

Castiel walks closer than Dean expected him to, and Dean turns to press his back to the side wall, his shoulder barely off the edge where the front and side connect. Castiel follows the twist of his body perfectly because suddenly he’s crowding Dean against the small space with his hands on either side of his head on the wall. Their faces are mere inches apart.

Dean loves the way the air shifts then, like someone pulled a lever down and the current of electricity started running. They’re breathing each other’s air, and Castiel’s eyes are glued to Dean’s mouth, while Dean alternates his staring between Castiel’s darkened eyes and those chapped lips. Dean feels like he's vibrating.

He forces his hands to unfreeze and brush the trench coat flaps aside, coming to rest on top of Castiel’s hips, over his belt. This moves their bodies closer still, Dean subconsciously opening his legs wider to let Castiel slot a knee in between them. Their hips press, Dean shivers, and then he shivers even more when he feels Castiel’s lips pressing against his.

It’s exactly like he imagined, except it’s about a thousand times better. Castiel’s lips are soft and pliant, and he presses brushing kisses and pecks Dean’s lips for a bit, leaving them tingling for more, until he starts to really get into it. Castiel softly clamps his mouth around Dean’s bottom lip and he pulls back, and Dean is so fucked. He tries to keep his knees from wobbling, and then he gets what he wants when Castiel presses forward again, kissing him open mouthed, and there is his tongue, and it tastes really sweet and Dean feels positively intoxicated.

He can’t remember when he closed his eyes, but there are fireworks exploding behind them, and his dick is saying “Hell, yeah!” and he’s tilting his head to kiss Castiel deeper, chasing more of his mouth and his taste and his smell. His hands are gripping Castiel’s hips in a vice.

Dean can’t help the moan he lets out when Castiel’s tongue does a thing, and he also can’t help his surprise when Castiel pulls back abruptly after the sound has registered. His shock is almost overshadowed by the crude things his brain is thinking when he takes in Castiel, whose lips are shiny and wet, and whose pupils are enormous.

Dean holds his breath, furrows his eyebrows, and waits. Castiel is looking at him, pained.

“Dean, I can’t,” he whispers.

There is a moment, and then Dean blinks, understanding everything. He’s a little upset, but mostly embarrassed, except his brain can’t fully express that, so it’s put through a well-oiled machine that converts it into anger. Now, that he can do.

He’s pushing Castiel off him, walking five steps away then pivoting and walking back. He repeats this path, running a hand down his face as Castiel just fucking stands there, looking at him sadly.

“Dude, what the fuck?” Dean bites out.

“Dean, I can-” Casties tries.

“No, seriously. What the fuck is wrong with you?” he whirls around to stare right at Castiel a few feet away. Castiel’s shoulders fall and it enrages Dean even more.

“You know what, Cas? Go fuck yourself. You got some issues to figure out, and it’s not gonna be with me. Go to hell, asshole.” Dean spits out, fixing Castiel with a furious stare, feeling his jaw tick in anger, and then he’s stomping away.

As he gets closer to the Impala, he crosses his arms, feeling indignation constrict his chest. This is not the first time this has happened with Dean and unfortunately, he thinks it probably won’t be the last.

Damn it. A guy like that? Probably has a pretty little wife, probably hides his wedding band right in his front pocket, which Dean completely skipped on his way to grab at Castiel’s ass. He groans internally as he rounds the back of the car till he reaches the driver’s door. He’s going home with the worst case of blue balls he’s ever had.

“I’m sorry, Dean.” He hears as he fishes out his keys and puts the right one in the slot to unlock the door, and hey, Castiel’s voice is much closer than he expected, but Dean doesn’t have time to turn around and yell at him some more because suddenly the ground is completely gone from under his feet. Dean’s vision goes blinding white, and then pitch black.

The pain finally registers on the back of his head, and the last thing he sees before he's out, is the key chain dangling from the lock on the Impala’s door.

****

The world slowly slots back together as Dean wakes up. There’s four, then three, then two, and then it all merges into one again. Dean acutely feels the pouding in his head.

He’s… laying down? Yeah, he’s on a bed. The mattress is nice. There's even a thin blanket on top of him, dark grey. He turns his head to the side-nope, that’s a wall-tries the other side and okay good, there’s the rest of the room. He feels a little less claustrophobic now that he’s seen the whole space. It’s dark just because the lights are off. It looks like a normal basement, unfinished ceiling and all, with boxes stacked in the corner covering a whole wall. There’s a couch facing him, parallel to the bed, and there’s a figure sitting there. Dean eyes his phone, wallet, car keys, and pocket knife on a night stand next to the bed. It’s just out of his reach.

He pinches his eyes shut, wiggles his toes in his boots (no brain damage done, yay), and then he groans out: “What can I do for ya, Mr. Monster?”

When he opens his eyes, Castiel has turned one of the overhead light bulbs on. He looks serious.

“Firstly, I want to apologize, Dean. I didn’t want to have to do this, and I didn’t plan for it.”

Dean is more than confused. “What.”

Castiel stands up from his couch, he’s only in his suit now, tie loosened, and damn Dean’s stupid (probably concussed) brain, but he still looks yummy. Monster, Dean. Focus.

Castiel crosses his arms, and plants his feet. He keeps a very respectable distance away from the bed, and Dean’s gut twists at the thought that he was playing him all along.

“I didn’t… want to seduce you. I just wanted to talk. I might have derailed from my plan slightly.”

Dean’s jaw ticks. “And what was that amazing plan of yours, Castiel? If that’s your real name.”

Castiel narrows his eyes at Dean’s tone. He huffs a breath out his nose, frowning.

“You know, Dean, you may not remember me, but I remember you. Fifteen years ago, your father killed my father, and I’ve been keeping tabs on you ever since.”

“Son of a bitch,” Dean breaths out after a few seconds of stunned silence, propping himself up to fully sit up on the bed. He feels his bruised brain click things together. “You’re the second one. You survived.”

Castiel is silent, and that’s all the confirmation Dean needs to know he was pinned down by this guy way before tonight.

Dean laughs. “What kind of fucked up revenge plot is this? You’ve been stalking me for years? Well, then you must know my father died of alcohol poisoning almost a decade ago. It was ugly and painful, and you missed your chance, asshole.”

Castiel rolls his eyes. “Dean,” he says sternly, “I didn’t want to kill your father. And I don’t want to kill you. That’s not why I ended up kidnapping you tonight. I’m grateful for what your father did for me.”

Dean does a double take, swings his feet off the bed and onto the ground. “You’re what?”

“This may come as a surprise, but not every monster is a monster. Not fully, anyway. I’m half-human. And I need your help to go all the way.”