#He really said get outta my swamp

[ask-dancing-fox]

"No more...water.."

You again....

For one so scared of water he was certainly drawn to it. The one thing that destroyed the shinigami beckoned him and he was helpless to the siren's song, running torwards water as much as he did from it.

It was interesting- in a tragic way. Sabito almost felt pitty.

Almost.

There was nothing he could do to help the god of death, not that he would anyway but that's almost what Adrian was seeking from him- help, assistance from an embodiment of the element as if he could somehow rid him of his affliction.

There was only one remedy Sabito could offer. Death.

Alas this wasn't a demon he was dealing with but a god, a god of the very thing Sabito brought so much of. Could it be their fates were intwined somehow? No matter how much Sabito warded him away the man kept reappearing in his life.

It was as if they were haunting eachother.

Except, Sabito didn't fear death and as a god of that very thing he failed to understand why anything would frighten such a being. He surely couldn't die. Did he fear being imprisoned in a dark, cold void where even his screans would be swallowed by an endless abyss for all of his immortal life? Did the unknown creatures lurking within it disturb his mind?

He didn't know. It was fascinating nonetheless but Sabito wouldn't let the man torture himself nor disturb his peace any longer.

"You're the one who came to me. Whatever it is you're dealing with I have no solution. Leave...And don't come back again..."

[passivenovember]

Billy knows he's pregnant because he has a double whopper with no cheese on the way home from Loch Nora.

Billy hates the Burger King. It tastes like cardboard and the cheese burns noxious holes in his stomach, probably, but things change when you're gonna be a mom.

A dad. Whatever.

Steve Harrington shoots his wad and, like magic, like Steve Harrington's spunk has turned everything inside him into stardust, Billy can't get enough of the shit. He'd buy cologne made of BK's burger fat, if he could, and spend all day sucking on his wrist like a dog.

So. Billy's pregnant. It's obvious. Among other things.

And no one ever said Steve Harrington was smart, not in any way that matters, and Billy can't learn his lesson. They fuck on Thursday night because apparently this is a middle-of-the-week kind of arrangement, now, and Harrington comes apart inside of Billy because you're on the pill, Malibu, it's okay.

Billy likes it. Lets him. Thinks, there's probably no harm in it now that he's no longer the Virgin Mary. It feels immaculate, anyhow, that this could happen.

Steve fucks into him sloppy, losing his rhythm until he spills, and tears swamp Billy's vision so he misses the whole fuckin' thing. The main show.

He wants to keep the baby. No one ever said Billy was smart, either.

But there are things in this life he'll keep to himself. He's allowed that. He shares so much with Max and Steve, and by association all the other fucking people that love Steve, and it gets old.

He can have this.

Billy thinks that this could be just for him.

"Fuck, Billy," Steve pulls out, but not before peppering Billy's face with soft butterfly kisses. His breath smells like them. Like blueberry seeds, underneath it all, "Goddamn, your pussy's magic."

Billy's hole runs sloppy. Too fucked out to hold anything in.

Billy almost laughs out loud, because. It's magic. It's a joke, right, his pussy swallowed and now there's--

"Love that thing you do with your hips. Love the sounds you make when my shaft rubs--"

"You're a fucking pervert."

"I was normal, before you let me hit," Steve trails damp, sticky fingers through Billy's chest hair. "You hungry?"

I'm pregnant. "No."

"Sure?" Steve rolls closer on the mattress, nosing Billy's damp, pillow-squashed curls out of the way, "You smell like you could eat a fucking village."

"I'm fine."

"Orphans and all, baby."

"So fucking weird."

Steve hums. Pulls on Billy's earring with his teeth and then licks a wet, fat stripe over his bonding patch. Teasing. "If you're hungry I could get us food."

"I'm fine."

"Really, I just need to put some shorts on and I'm outta here, fuckin'. Pedal to the metal--"

"Jesus Christ, I said I'm not hungry so fucking drop it, asshole," Billy shoves away, sitting on the edge of the mattress. He feels around on the carpet for his jeans, his t-shirt, his converse.

Steve runs out of him, gluing him to 500 count Egyptian Cotton. Pisses him off.

"Billy," Steve says.

Billy tugs his socks on. He was freezing, apparently. Never realized it. His teeth chatter so he stoops, reaching for the closest hoodie shaped thing in their heap of discarded clothes, and then.

"You don't have to go, baby," Steve pokes him between the shoulder blades, gentle as a falling leaf. "Please stay."

"You're pissing me off."

"What else is new."

"I'm gonna--"

Steve wraps around Billy like a blanket, cock soft and sticky against Billy's tailbone. His legs are lean and strong, all muscle and good intentions, just like the rest of him.

Billy hates it.

He melts back against Steve's chest, anyway, vision swamped again.

"You gonna tell me what's wrong, or do I gotta beg?"

"Little manners might be nice."

"Billy Hargrove. Please tell me what's got you smelling like a sugar factory caught fire." Steve pets through his hair. Knows how it turns Billy to putty. Has to. "Omega troubles?"

Billy bites down on the inside of his cheek. Tastes blood. "You wouldn't get it."

"I could try," Steve tells him. His lips are soft against he back of Billy's neck, at his ear lobe, on the tense knob of his shoulder. "Please. Tell me so I can fix it."

"You can't," Billy says, traitor voice cracking open, raw, "You can't fix it. It's mine."

My life. My baby.

"Okay," Steve says easily. Kind and good and sweeter than anything Billy could ever deserve, "Stay the night, so I can cook for you before you fall asleep, and again in the morning."

Billy swallows, throat clicking like a dead lighter. Can't breathe, can't--

"It's alright," Steve kisses his neck, "Everything will feel better in the morning."

"We never should've started this bullshit," Billy sits up, heart lurching at the soft, pained noise Steve lets out into the air between them. He can't handle this shit. He can't do this, he can't--

"Billy--

"I'm pregnant," Billy says to Steve's Duran-Duran poster. Can't believe how young he feels, in this moment. Can't begin to wrap his head around the fact that he's twenty years old, and he's in Hawkins, Indiana, and he's going to have a fucking baby with someone who's got such a shitty taste in music, and--

He wants it.

More than he's ever wanted anything. Billy opens his mouth to say it, to scream it at the popcorn stucco, watching like a trillion angel eyes overhead.

But Steve breathes, like an old car trying to start. "You're sure?" He asks.

Billy's shaking even though Steve is a warm, solid weight against his back, burning them up. "Yes."

"How?" Steve asks, full of wonder, and Billy has to get away.

The carpet is heaven under his feet. "I've been. Eating a lot of Burger King."

"Burger King."

"Yeah. Cravings for shit I never liked before. Double whoppers with no cheese," Billy wrings his hands, "And. I didn't have a heat this month, so Joyce took me to the clinic. They said I'm only a few weeks along, but everything is good with her."

Steve makes a wet, heavy sound.

"I dunno. It kinda. Feels like one," Billy rubs a palm over his belly, quick as lightning, "I think it's a girl."

"Billy, please look at me."

Billy does, horrified but swallowing it, one bitter mouthful at a time. He plants his feet and everything bubbles up inside him. This is his life, his body, his baby, and he's going to to this for himself. Steve doesn't have to worry or fork out any cash or put his life on hold just because he knocked up some desperate omega--

Steve's crying. "We're having a baby."

Billy didn't expect this. He falters, mouth working in shocked silence.

But then Steve moves.

He pulls Billy to him, chest heaving as he laughs, high and bright. "Holy, shit we're gonna be parents," Steve twirls them, hooping and hollering like they just won the NBA championship. "Goddamn, your pussy really is magic!"

Billy giggles, in spite of himself. All the other shit melts away, for now, shadows receding under the blinding light of Steve Harrington.

"I can't fucking believe this," Steve says, pulling back to hunt over Billy's face, full of wonder. "Do you think she's gonna have your eyes?"

"I. I don't--"

"I feel like in high school science class we learned something about the brown eyes gene kicking the blue eyes gene's ass? But I would fucking die if our baby comes out looking like you."

"You're not," Billy swallows, choking on tears. "You're not mad at me? Or disappointed?"

"Disappointed?" Steve repeats, his face falling. "Billy, are you serious? No. No, I've fucking. Ever since I met you I've been sitting in this room every night twirling my hair around one finger and kicking my feet because, I--"

Steve's thumb rubs soft, soothing circles against Billy's cheek.

"Billy, I love you," He says gently, "I love everything about you. You're smart and you're hilarious and you're so beautiful--"

"--Steve--"

"--You make my heart feel like it's gonna beat out of my chest. I can't believe you let a loser like me climb on top of you, much less--"

Billy kisses him, eating up Steve's next words.

They don't matter, when Steve leads them back to the mattress. He eats every soft, gooey whimper out of Billy's lungs, swallowing them down and tasting the damp running between Billy's legs.

Makes love to him, while they talk about the future.

Steve only makes one joke about his dick hurting the baby's head, and Billy thinks they should sign up for a class or two.

[heavenlymorals]

In Defense of Bill Williamson: A Curious Case Of Hear Me OUT-

Warning: this post contains mentions of rape, homophobia, and period typical attitudes.

The first time I played RDR2, I was very curious and went into Sonny's cabin. If you know, you know.

I was horrified over learning what happened to Arthur and the shock of it all was impalpable. The fact that Rockstar put in such an encounter was diabolical, but either way, it happened, and I was pissed and heartbroken for Arthur. Out of all the encounters that happened in this game, all the awful encounters, this is the only one that did not get a journal entry- mostly likely due to the trauma of getting raped and the shame of it as well- let us not forget that Arthur is a man, a very tough and burly man, living in 1899 America. The likelihood that there would be any support for him is nigh on none.

I fed Sonny to the alligators (obviously) later and more or less forgot about it because I avenged my Arthur.

Then Bill came along.

"I met a guy at the swamp who seemed to know a lot about you. I mean A LOT about you…"

I was pissed and it was the first time in the game that I heard pure, unadulterated hatred in Arthur's voice as he more or less growled at Bill to go away. From then on, I always antagonized Bill for seemingly mocking Arthur like that for getting raped.

But then I played again and again and played Red Dead 1 too and learned that Bill is gay. Even though it isn't said outright, it is implied so heavily that it would be laughable to suggest that he liked women.

So after a while, my reaction to Bill's words changed. I pity him now.

Now I know what you are thinking- Heytham, how the hell can you pity a man who mocked a fucking rape victim?

Because I don't think Bill thought Arthur was raped.

Here is how I came to this conclusion (feel free to disagree with me, but here is how I came to this conclusion):

Being a homosexual in the 1800s was a very isolating and daunting experience, with the threat of jail time and even death. Society was super judgemental and cruel to people who did not fit into what was expected of them, so being a homosexual would feel like hell on Earth because there wasn't a real way to express this attraction beyond longing and secrecy, which would make finding other gay people hard to do.

Beyond just isolation, homosexual actions can ruin careers, which we can assume is one of the reasons that Bill got dishonorably discharged ("deviancy") alongside attempted murder. Crazy to think that "deviancy" is on the same level of attempted murder and was probably shamed more, but that is neither here nor there.

Even the gang wasn't really accepting of Bill's sexuality, which speaks a lot about the gang's supposedly "progressive politics", as they aren't really politically progressive and more so idealistic in the romantic standards of 1800s America. In terms of Bill's sexuality, it felt more like a outta sight, outta mind sort of deal. Bill is the butt of jokes and his sexuality is too ("Is he gonna kiss that guy or punch him", "Bill and Phil", "He likes to do a lot of things with men on their knees (RDR1- John says it to purposely shame Bill more to the people he works with)")).

When his sexuality seems to be a bit more upfront, there is agression and disgust. The biggest example of this is Arthur's reaction to Bill wanting hair pomade. He sounds disgusted and mean and the sneer in his "Yeah, I'll get you your hair pomade…" is very telling that Arthur thinks that Bill is asking him for pomade for gay sex because of the way he reacts to it- he already has a disposition to thinking this is why Bill wants the pomade and it disgusts him, even though he does it anyways.

To give Arthur the benefit of the doubt, I'd be pretty weirded out if someone asked me for lube, but Arthur didn't know if that is what Bill actually wants. He could very well just need it for a job that requires him to look nice, which happens in the ball mission. The point is that he had a disposition and that disposition made him react in not only a bewildered way but a disgusted way. Im serious, just listen to that interaction- I don't think I am reaching.

In any case, it is quite obvious that Bill feels isolated and that isolation makes him awkward and aggressive around men that he does like (Kieran) and overall just angry at the world because of it, amongst other things. He has no one to talk to, no one to relate to, and he is shunned and despaired over something he cannot control.

So then Bill meets Sonny and whatever the hell they did together, Sonny talks about Arthur, and let us be real, what is the likelihood that he would flat out tell Bill that he raped Arthur? Low, I'd think. Most likely, he would just say that the two of them had sex.

Now think about this- Bill has mostly likely lived his entire life hiding his sexuality and only expressing it in secret because if he does otherwise, he will be punished in some form or another. But now he learns that another man in camp, the fucking enforcer of all people, has apparently went to this man for sex.

Do you realize what this means for a gay person? Especially a gay person who lives in a society that actively discourages and punishes same-sex relations? It doesn't necessarily mean that that person would try to drum up a relationship, but there is comfort in the fact that now you know another person who is experiencing the same thing you are- the solidarity in that is priceless. I would know, I come from a culture that still kills gay people.

When Bill comes up to Athur, he genuinely sound giddy, like he found a big secret. There wasn't really any malice in his voice, other than a "haha, guess what I just found out" sort of tone.

When Arthur tells him to get out of there, he didn't seem offended. He didn't seem annoyed or aggressive, which is unusual for Bill. He just puts his hands up in surrender and goes off, almost as if he was saying "hey, I get it man," in the sense that a man during this time period, especially a man like Arthur, wouldn't want to be found out as gay. Internalized homophobia was definietly rampant.

He genuinely doesn't seem to have malice in that tone- Bill only talks like that when he is either excited or happy or acting like a human being. And at this point in the game, Bill still respected Arthur, so I doubt he would want to step on his toes, especially in a way like that.

If I am not talking out of my ass, this could be such a great moment of character development for Bill- sympathy for another man supposedly like him in the world that they lived in. Fucking Bill having sympathy and empathy- who would've thought.

Or he could be mocking Arthur for being a rape victim because Bill is genuinely a piece of shit.

But on the off chance that he does not? What an interesting microcosm of LGBTQ+ dynamics in 1899 America.

In any case, FUCK SONNY AND DONT GET INVITED INTO HOUSES IN THE SWAMPS-

[trappedinafantasy37]

Let me tell you about my first time meeting Minthara and locking myself into the grove raid

I was having a chat with someone in the comments of my fanfic where I had told them I locked myself into the grove raid on my first run. They got really curious as to how I managed that. But, my response got a bit too long, so I figured I’d kinda do a bit of a writeup and reminisce about my first time playing Baldurs Gate 3 all the way back on Christmas Day and how I raided the grove with Minthara.

And oooo boi, where do I begin! Just a massive string of first time player who doesn’t know how to look, how to listen, or how to read. To start, never found Wyll in the grove (and when I eventually did he was big mad). I have no idea how I missed him. For some reason, my dumb ass also didn’t explore north of Blighted Village. So, I never found Karlach (and when I eventually did she was big mad). I went down to the swamp and Ethel just humiliated me, so I decided to go back until I was level 5 cause she was level 5. I never found Wood Woad so I never learned of the Shadow Druid stuff. I also never found the Underdark or Grymforge until exploring the goblin camp AFTER the raid so the only thing left for me to do was the grove.

Kagha wouldn’t talk to me cause she wanted me to go to Zevlor. I don’t know how I did it, but Zevlor wanted me to kill Kagha and just refused to talk to me when I said I wasn’t gonna kill Kagha. I also never found Mol so never got the quest to steal the idol.

So, all that was left was the goblin camp. Went downstairs to find the bear in the cage, I kinda figured it was Halsin. But, I think I picked the wrong dialogue options with the goblin kids and pissed off the bear. Long story short, bear got dead. All that was left was talking with Minthara and man she scared the absolute fucking shit outta me! When she told me to tell her where the grove was, I was literally too scared to tell her no and gave her the location. Don’t know bout you, but powerful and scary women can convince me to do just about anything! I felt awful, but it felt like it was the only way to progress the grove conflict.

Then I started the raid and saw that I still had the option to turn against her. I was so excited and thought “Yay! I can still save them AND I’ll have an army of tiefling and druids.” WRONG! I had 3 tieflings and only 1 was actually worth a damn and the druids slept through their big day. Minthara swept the floor with my ass, again, and again, and again. I tried that fight for 3 hours and Minthara won the fight every time. Mind you, I was severely under leveled and was doing the raid at level 3.

I may have found Withers, but didn’t know about respecing so Shadowheart was still in her default class of Trickery Domain (WHICH IS GARBAGE), Astarion who was an Arcane Trickster (WHICH IS GARBAGE), and Bae’zel who carried our asses as best as she could. And then there was me, a Rogue Assassin who loses her biggest advantage after round 1.

In typical drow fashion, she quite literally beat me into submission and I just said, “fuck it, I’mma join her.” Easiest fight in the game, didn’t break a sweat. When I talked to her in the inner sanctum, I genuinely felt nauseous to my stomach, but I decided I wasn’t gonna reload and was live with my choices, even if they’re stupid. I told Minthara that what we did was murder and we deserve to hang for it. Then she said “Look at me” and I was hooked. She has had me in her clutches ever since.

I did the goblin party and her and I went to the chapel. I figured I was gonna get a fade to black kinda sex scene. WRONG! It has got to be the most graphic and explicit sex scene I’ve seen in a game second to Cyberpunk. I was literally in shock the whole time. And then, afterwards, I cuddled with her and she wanted to talk about my feelings and I'm all "O.o, you're supposed to be evil?" The game may have been painting her as an evil character, but that moment showed that there was so much depth to her than just being an evil character. A moment most players will never see cause most don't raid the grove. I truly wasn’t expecting to see her again in Moonrise. And when I did, I knew I had to get her outta there no matter what.

Looking back on it now, it’s interesting for me to see how many things had to go wrong in order for me to end up raiding the grove. If I had found Karlach first, it wouldn’t have happened. If I found the Underdark/Grymforge first and leveled up a bit, wouldn’t have happened. If I freed Halsin, I probably would have killed the goblin leaders (including Minthara cause I did not know about the knock out method on my first play through) and the raid wouldn’t have happened. Hell, if I had thought to lower the difficulty to Explorer it wouldn’t have happened! But I didn’t get that big brain idea until the fight with Nere, well after the grove raid.

Minthara left such a massive impression on me because I did raid the grove. It really does make me think of her line “I would have just been another casualty in your crusade against the Absolute and no one would remember me.” If I did things right, that’s exactly who she would have been and probably would have been dead in most of my playthroughs. But, instead, I fucked everything up and she most certainly wasn’t a casualty and I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forget her. When meeting her in the goblin camp, never could I have imagined relating so much to a character. Out of all the companions, I relate to Minthara the most and Karlach comes a close second.

I don’t always raid the grove, but I will never kill her under any circumstance. Her and Shadowheart are the only two companions who have survived every playthough I’ve done and will survive every future runs cause I just cannot play this game without them. And it’s all because I was a chronic dumbass and raided the grove.

[cfcreative]

If Korydass was a Companion in BG3

This is just touching on Act 1…

The big Kory disapproval moments are any time you’re an outright asshole, really. Abandoning or killing potential companions is a huge no-no. Killing the tieflings OR the druids and she will turn against you outright. You get an approval bump from her for saving the Owlbear Cub and Scratch, but there’s also a big approval boost for treating the distressed Frog in the swamp with kindness.

General chatter in early game will see her very awkwardly flirting with Karlach (of course ❤️‍🔥); but also getting a little flirty with Wyll or Shadowheart.

(So much more after the break!)

When Kory gets the slightest hint that Shadowheart likes animals but is trying to suppress it, Kory goes all in on pointing out rare birds or offering to help with her fears of wolves. The wolf thing doesn’t get a great response, but there will be another ambient dialogue about it in Act 3 after the events of the House of Grief, one where Shadowheart does take Kory up on the offer.

Another ambient dialogue soon after recruiting Karlach would be Kory and Karlach both offering horn-care suggestions for Wyll after his transformation. Towards the end of the conversation there’s an exchange that goes somewhere along these lines:

Wyll: Is it polite to ask for assistance with the cleaning process?

Karlach: “Depends with tieflings.I’d pick stones outta my friends’ if we got too rough-and-tumble. Mum and Dad and I would help each other out with the annoying nooks in each others’. But you know, you gotta gauge it person to person and never handle someone else’s horns without asking first.

Korydass: “I’ve been led to understand that is always something… intimate for Dragonborn. Something that you’d only ask a lover to do.”

Wyll: “Led to understand?”

Korydass: “I haven’t spent a lot of time around other Dragonborn.”

Wyll: “Oh.”

Shortly after this Karlach would offer to point out the proper oil to buy for his horns when they next saw it and the dialogue would end.

Kory would absolutely have something to say about the exsanguinated boar, which would change depending on if Astarion was in the party at the time or not. After the Vampire reveal, she’ll note she’d suspected he was a vampire since then (if you have not found the boar or she wasn’t in party, she’ll be surprised).

An early exchange with Lae’zel would have her nearly flirting with Kory, and it all going over Kory’s head:

Lae’zel: “You fight ferociously, like the beasts you embody.”

Korydass: “Well, that’s, um, the point of undergoing the transformation.”

Lae’zel: “I appreciate your tactical approach as well. You beguile your foes with your seemingly soft nature, then you tear out their throats when they’ve let their guard down.”

Korydass (surprised, and honestly a little alarmed by the description): “I—uh… thank… you?”

Lae’zel: “However, you could do with physical training for this form. Should you wish it, I will assist you.”

Korydass: “I’ll… take that into considerstion.”

There will be chatter between her and Gale about assisting him with the cooking; Gale politely calls her cooking “rustic” and Kory takes it as a massive compliment. They do discuss foraging quite at bit, with Gale occasionally making requests of Kory for certain ingredients if she can manage it or use druidic magic to grow said ingredients.

If you’re wondering about her romance, check under the bonus on this post.

[dajaregambler]

HeliosR - Fight out vivid colors! - Chapter 3

Translation of chapter 3 of the event ‘Fight out vivid colors!’ from ‘Helios Rising Heroes’.

Faith: Dino, we’re done with strength training.

Dino: Huh, ah, you two are impressive!

Dino: You guys were able to do it easily even with raising the amount of burden. The results of training daily♪

Junior: …..Dino, are you worried about something?

Dino: Eh? Totally don’t have anything to be upset about♪

Faith: No need to pretend. It’s easy to guess what’s on your mind. 

Dino: Uugh…..

Faith: It’s about Keith, no? Don’t shoulder it on your own and tell us about it.

Faith: Both I and Ochibi-chan understand the circumstances, so maybe you can clear out your mind a little

Dino: ……Right. Thanks.

Dino: Lately, Keith has been doing his best at work, right?

Faith: Well, more than before yes.

Dino: I really think that’s admirable, I even think of how I want to help him. But….

Dino: What he did yesterday, I just can’t let that slide after all…..!

Faith: You mean, the whole case about the street fair right?

Dino: Yeah…… I know that he’s busy, however if everyone came together to lend a hand we should’ve been able to join

Junior: In the first place Keith’s only said how he’s got more work on this plate than before, it’s not like he’s overworking himself 

Dino: Yeah. And also… I’m somewhat extremely, extremeeeeeeely……

Dino: Annoyed!!!

Junior: He’s acting like a spoiled kid. Up until now he wasn’t trying, and once he does a lil’ bit he’s whining how he’s sooo busy… 

Junior: What the hell does he think it’s like for us, who are always being pushed around by him!

Faith: …….Then how about we give him a taste of his own medicine for once?

Dino & Junior: Eh……?

Faith: Aha. Something interesting had popped up in my mind♪

-

Keith: I’m baaack~.... Aaah~ so tired. Meetings first thing in the morning seriously sucks……

Faith: Welcome back, Keith… Fwaah…

Junior: Aah~ Tired…..

Keith: ? Whatcha lazing around for like that

Faith: Kiiinda am outta energy y’see

Junior: Ain’t in the mood for anything anymore today……

Keith: Geez, while I’m swamped with work…..

Keith: Actually, what happened to training?

Faith: Dino got in the mood for pizza so we stopped

Keith: Haaah? What the hell…. Where is he?

Junior: Making pizza in the kitchen

Keith: Hey, Dino. Just what are ya…..

Dino: Puhaaah. This drink goes well with pizza

Keith: You’re- that’s- ain’t that my bottle of alcohol! The hell are ya doing!?

Dino: Ah, what are you doing, Keith! Give it back! You said I could have a drink whenever I’d like to from the alcohol that’s left here!

Keith: Aah~ did I say that……?

Dino: I also get in the mood for drinks sometimes. So leave me be!

Keith: Nah, as if I can do that! You skipping work and drinking in broad daylight is weird as hell!

Dino: I-it’s absolutely not weird at all! I do what I wanna do…….!

Dino: If there’s alcohol I’ll drink it, and I’ll skip out on work… and sloppily… teach….

Keith: Huh?

Dino: Ngh, anyway, I want to laze around and do nothing too!

Keith: And I’m telling ya to stop!

Dino: I decided on becoming an awful mentor. Don’t get in my way!

Faith: I mean, didn’t you drink whenever you wanted to, Keith? So why can’t Dino?

Keith: It just ain’t like him no matter how ya look at that. You cut it out too---

Keith: Wait, in your hands- are those my cigarettes!?

Faith: Yup. Thought to give them a shot. No problem, right?

Keith: As if!

Faith: Ochibi-chan, want to try smoking too?

Junior: Yeah

Keith: Waiwaiwait, don’t you out of all people even dare!

[mykneeshurt]

Mister Morgan - Chapter 7

Arthur Morgan x F!reader

All warnings are on the title page

Chapter eight

“I don’t know why I bother wit you Dutch Van Der Linde! I seen you lookin at er!” Molly shrieked at the top of her lungs. That voice of hers was enough to pull you from your deep slumber. Rolling over in the cot your head thumped with every movement, a wave of nausea gripped your stomach. With a hoarse groan you emptied the remaining bile from your stomach onto the grass below. “Will you shut the fuck up!” You groaned from the tent rolling back over to bury your face into the pillow.

It had been two days since your run in with the O’Driscolls, luckily you only ended up with a concussion. Arthur was racing Dutch back from Rhodes when he heard your screams, he shot the O’Driscoll on top of you before you passed out. He put you on his horse and brought you back to camp, where he and the girls took turns looking after you.

You stayed in Arthur’s tent while he slept on a make shift bed outside, when he wasn’t off galavanting, which was quite often. To keep your mind occupied you studied his belongings on his table; a picture of his mother and father, a newspaper clipping from his first bank robbery, an orchid, a picture of him, Duch and Hosea when they were younger and lastly a picture of his old dog. The sentimental fool.

The tent flap burst open bringing with it a subtle evening glow and a chuckle from Arthur. “They wake you?”

Without moving your head from the pillow you mumbled “Arthur I can’t take no more of their bickering. My head is killin’ me.” Arthur walked over and sat next to you on the cot, “here, drink this, Hosea whipped it up for you.” Arthur produced a bottle of gensing elixir while he helped you sit up straight. “Damn darlin’ that’s quite a shiner you got there.”

“Yes. Thank you Arthur” you huffed as you rolled your eyes and took the liquid from his hand.

As you chugged the vile medicine you caught Arthur examining you in the corner of your eye. “Arthur, I’m fine. I’ve dealt with worse” you huffed, “what I can’t deal with is their incessant arguin’” you said just loud enough for them to hear. You felt claustrophobic being confined to this tent for so long, you needed to get out, even if it was to help old Grimshaw with the chores.

Something shiny caught your eye, “Arthur? What the hell is that?” You laughed, flicking the Deputy Badge that adorned his chest. Arthur let out a snort and rubbed the back of his neck “We’ll, I’m one of the Deputy Sheriffs of Rhodes mi’lady.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Dutch?”

“Yeah, wants us to get in with the Gray boys. They got gold apparently..”

You rolled your eyes. He continued to fill you in about the last two days, how he, Dutch, Bill and another Deputy raided a local moonshine distillery in the swamp. How he and Hosea went into Rhodes to re-sell the moonshine, as Catherine Braithwaite knew it was hers when they went to sell it back to them.

“Sorry what?” You cackled mid way through that story “your name is now ‘Fenton’ the idiot brother of ‘Melvin’. Not far wrong on the idiot part is he” you winked at him. Arthur chuckled “yeah not my finest moment I will admit. Bunch of Lemoyne raiders found us, caused havoc in the saloon.”

“Chrissakes Arthur. That ain’t bein’ exactly low key.” He lowered his gaze with a grimace. “I know I know. I tried tellin Dutch but he ain’ listening. Even Hosea hasn’t been too sure bout all this.” You felt him tense up, you reached out and placed your hand on his knee with a gentle squeeze. “Talk to me Arthur.”

He let out a sigh. “I just … I don’t know what Dutch is playin’ at. I keep tellin’ him this don’t feel right n he just dismisses me. Really don’t feel right.”

You took his hand in yours and stroked the top of it “I don’t know what’s goin’ through his head, but you need to keep yours on straight Arthur. Who else is gonna save me from O’Driscolls” you said as you playfully shoved into his shoulder. “Go on, get outta here ‘fore people start talking.” You gave Arthur a small kiss on his cheek before he left.

Over the next few days you slowly started to get back into the swing of things, chores, arguing with Pearson and even a small hunting trip with Charles. It felt so good to be out of that tent and into the fresh air. Micah was back to his normal shit eating self, constantly making comments under his breath about you and making his dislike of you very obvious.

It all came to a head one evening as the sun descended over Flat Iron Lake. Micah was sat at the table beer in hand, you walked past after helping clear away the dinner and knew by the look on his face he was going to start. “Aw well look, if it ain’t the O’Driscoll whore. Surprised you ain’t rat us out yet.”

You stopped in your tracks and let out a sigh, you’d had enough. “Why don’t you shut the fuck up Micah.”

His eyes widened in shock or annoyance you weren’t quite sure. “Who the fuck you talkin’ to? You’re dead weight O’Driscoll.”

You felt your blood pressure rising, your chest became tight and knuckles turned white from your shaking fists. “I ain’t a damn O’Driscoll Micah! When you gonna get that through your thick skull?!”

He jumped up from his chair and came towards you trying to be intimidating. You were both in each other’s faces, the gang had started to notice what was going on and we’re coming over. “You got a a lotta nerve O’Driscoll.” Micah yelled as he grabbed your arm. You saw red. In one sudden movement you whipped your hunting knife from its holster to his neck.

You saw red. In one sudden movement you whipped your hunting knife from its holster to his neck. The blue steel pressed firmly against his neck, the skin turned red from the pressure. You’re not sure what stopped you from plunging the knife deep into his neck, nothing would have given you more pleasure. “Give me a fuckin’ reason.” You spat. Your eyes narrowed, waiting for another retort from him. You could feel his pulse thrash against the edge of your knife. Tempting you drive the it deep into his neck. He broke out into a shit eating smirk ‘Now Morgan, why don’t you keep your woman on a leash.”

You felt a firm grip on your waist and another on your hand holding the knife. You’re not sure when Arthur had even returned to camp. “Darlin’” he firmly whispered. The camp had gone deathly silent, all eyes were on you. You responded to Arthur’s firm touch and slowly dropped the knife from his neck, not breaking away from Micah’s gaze.

Arthur guided you by your waist to a more secluded spot by the lake. You sat down on a boulder in silence and stared out across the water. Your heart hadn’t stopped pounding against your ribs as you let out a few deep breaths. Your jaw clenched as you gritted your teeth in a silent rage.

After what felt like an eternity you managed to look at him. “I’m fine.”

“Clearly.” He huffed “what the hell was that?”

You sucked your teeth, “Had enough of the comments from him Arthur. Thinks he can get away with anythin’ without no consequences. I’ll kill him, don’t think I won’t.”

Arthur slipped his arm around you “I don’t doubt that for a second. But yah know, Dutch don’t quite like murder in camp.”

You managed to let out a small giggle as you relaxed into Arthur. He smelt of gunpowder, a smell you never thought you’d like, but he wore it so well. “I won’t put up with Arthur, had years of the O’Driscolls walkin’ all over me. I ain’t taking shit from him.”

Arthur gently kissed your forehead “I know sweetheart, I know.”

“Don’t even know why Dutch puts up with him. Ain nothin’ but a snake.”

“Micah saved Dutch’s life once. He respects him, even if he is a pissant.”

“I guess” you sighed “what’s happening with these two families? Ain’t seen you all day.”

Arthur let out an exasperated sigh, he filled you in on the eventful day.

He, Javier and John went to the Braithwaite’s to steal some prize horses which were meant to be around $5000 a head. But, of course it wasn’t their lucky day. Couple hundred each for them at most.

“I could have come along Arthur, I know my horses, would have saved you the hassle” you remarked.

“Didn’t wanna put you out, besides you’ve only just recovered” he said while he rested his head agonist yours.

“I can help Arthur, I ain’t afraid of gettin’ my hands dirty. Besides I’m a better long range shot than you.” You giggled.

“So you keep sayin’. Fine come with Me and Sean tomorrow. We’re gonna torch the Gray’s tobacco fields.”

“I’m in.”

———

Surprised how well this reads lmao

[ase-trollplays]

Vvv Mimi says that a lot. She always tells me I'll get stuff when I'm older, or she'll tell me about stuff when I'm older. It's real annoying. vvV

>> You pout and glare down at the ground. You hate that more than just about anything.

>> You respond with "Yeah, that!" when he corrects you. At least you were close. You had the first part right, and they're both animal related. That's good enough for you.

Vvv Danny said when I'm bigger and stronger, I'll be able to wear bone armor without problems. I'm too little right now, and it would be too heavy for me and make me slow. vvV

Vvv I wanna make it outta boar bones cuz there's lots of them where Danny lives, and they're real tough and strong. Plus their skulls are real big and look real cool. vvV

>> You blink and tilt your head at him when he mentions going to your place. He's already in your place, essentially. Does he mean the lake where all your alligators usually hang out?

Vvv I don't think Mimi and Danny would want me to leave the swamp if you live that far away, and Mama would be real upset, too. She doesn't like me leaving if it's not with Mimi or Danny. vvV

Vvv I can take you to where I live, though. It's a lake where all my alligators like to stay. I keep all my stuff there and sleep at the bottom. vvV

>> You'll have to think of what kind of great animal you should hunt to make something really cool. You were content with the frog, but now you want to get something bigger and cooler.

>> After a few moments, you hand the skull back to Yarrex and retrieve the frog you dropped. You brush off most of the dirt and start peeling pieces and chunks off the skeleton to eat rather than just taking bites out of it.

ase-trollplays​:

Vvv Yeah, but it’s all minty stuff, and I hate mint. It’s nasty and gross. vvV

>> You give a raspberry of disapproval as you remember the one time Thiomi tried giving you less sugary gum. Mint very quickly joined sour on the list of flavors you hate.

>> At the mention of stuffing animals, though, you immediately perk up with a big smile on your face. 

Vvv I know all about stuffing animals! Danny can do that! It’s called– He called it, uhhhh taxonomy! He said he would teach me when I’m older! And maybe he can teach me to make bone armor, too! vvV

>> That was probably about a sweep ago, and you’ve grown a lot in that time if you say so yourself. Maybe now he’ll be able to teach you! You look back down at the now thoroughly dirtied skull. 

Vvv I dunno about the other stuff, but d’ya think you can show me how to make the earrings and rings and the other stuff? vvV

“| Mint is +n +cquir-d t+st-. |“

“| M+yb- wh-n you +r- old-r you will +ppr-ci+t- how fr-sh it is. |“

> You’re pretty sure wrigglers flat out have different tastebuds compared to older trolls - hence the virulent hatred of vegetables and anything lacking sufficient sugar.

“| T+xid-rmy. |“

“| T+xonomy is th- fi-ld of cl+ssifying +nim+ls by typ-. |“

> Close enough though, you suppose. At least she got the ‘tax’ part right - and knowing one of the two things that were eternal was very important for life.

“| Bon–pl+t- +rmor, though? Huh. You do not s– th+t v-ry oft-n. |“

“ | Not v-ry fl-xibl-, I im+gin-, but v-ry good for st+nding up to mod-r+t- imp+ct. |“

“| Would b- conc-rn-d +bout th- forc- going through it, though… |“

> You shrug.

“| Th+t sounds v-ry cool, how-v-r! I look forw+rd to you l-+rning th- +rt of it! |“

“| You will h+v- to hunt som-thing truly f-+rsom- if you w+nt suffici-ntly strong +rmor in th+t c+s-. |“

> Your grin widens slightly when she asks if you can show her how to make earrings and necklaces, and you nod.

“| I c-rt+inly c+n! Not right now, though, I do not bring cr+fting suppli-s on my hunts. |“

“| Such d-lic+t- work is b-st suit-d for within + hiv-. L-ss +nim+ls thr-+t-ning to bit- you, l-ss ins-cts sucking +t your fluids. |“

> You brush a mosquito off the side of your face as you speak, waving it away from yourself.

“| I could visit wh-r- you liv-, should your… c+r-t+k-rs… +llow it. |“

“| Or you could visit my hiv-! Though it is + f+ir dist+nc- from h-r-, no sw+mp +t +ll. |“

“| Plus, you still n–d to hunt som-thing gr-+t -nough to m+k- +rts from. Th+t frog could b- nic-, but I +m sur- you could find som-thing -v-n gr-+t-r. |“

[fire-down-the-vine]

Ok so like I don’t know enough of what I’m doing with this plot to tag it properly on ao3 so I’m posting chapter 1 and the rest of 2 here🕺

TW: Implied physical abuse, homophobia, puking

——————————————————

Chapter 1

Lying half-upright on the ground, beneath a moonlit sky, the damp grass soaks through my clothes and cools my skin. The night is still and the sky is bright and brilliant despite the hour. I glance down at my wrist. Half past one in the morning, my watch reads. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t tired, though getting to sleep could be a chore sometimes. I look up from my watch, back to the illuminated sky, then to the side of my house about ten feet behind me. My open bedroom window I had crawled out of stares back at me. Looking away, my attention is quickly drawn back to the sky. I lift an arm out to trace the imaginary outline of a constellation; Andromeda. I often point out constellations to my friends whenever the sun sets and the stars appear above. I’d trace one out in the sky and tell them the name and every other unnecessary detail I knew about it, whether they were listening or not.

Sometimes I felt like I was one of the few people that took time to see what others chose to not pay much attention to, like the night sky. No one really stops to realize the beauty and mystery of it, I think. If I can notice anything as small and meaningless as that, anyone can. Cuz’ not anyone’s half damn blind like I am. Anyone else has got two good working eyes to see out of, but not me. My eye’s an ugly sight too. A ghostly pale swamp of what should be a regular iris. Mom always told me it was what made me unique. I think moms say that a lot though.

My elbows slump down to either side of me as I allow myself to fully lay down under the tall trees beside my house that surround me. I feel almost obligated to crawl up to my feet and make my way back to my bedroom window, but my eyelids grow heavier and heavier, and my body, weaker and weaker. I heave my hands up to smack them back down onto my face in an unhelpful attempt to stay awake

No use

I think to myself. I don’t even spare a second glance at the house.

I bring my wrist to the front of my face to check the time again. Quarter after two; the last thing I see before my mind gives in and my eyes shut.

Xx

“Jude!“

I hear my name being shouted, but can’t bother to respond to it in my half-conscious state, let alone lift myself and be able to stand stably on two feet.

“JUDE!”

Again, more forceful this time. My mind dismisses it against my will and I feel myself doze off again when something hits my head with enough force to make me jolt up, suddenly completely awake. I twist halfway to find a worn-out black sneaker. It’s my worn-out black sneaker. I whip the full way around to where the shoe had come from behind me. My eyes are met with my brother’s, who’s standing half hunched out of my window. He holds my other tattered shoe that matches the first one, aimed at my head, looking seconds away from chucking that one at me too.

“Pass out in the woods again fuck head?”

He calls with a playful edge to his voice.

“Outta my room, Scuzzo!”,

I shout back with the same edge.

I snatch up the shoe that had hit my head and fling it back at him, hitting him right between the eyes. He yells, following it with an unnecessary loud curse. Without warning, he leaps up and out of the window charging straight at me and I’m forced to scramble to my feet. I run into the small wooded area ahead, attempting to restrain my giggling. I trip over my own feet and am immediately tackled the rest of the way to the ground, my brother’s fist going straight to my hair to grind my face into the dirt.

“Hey! Let up man!”

I yell, kicking wherever I can, hoping I’d at least hit him somewhere.

I feel my foot strike him and hear him groan behind me. He shifts off of me and onto the ground.

“Have you been out here all night?”

He questions.

“Are you trying to get kidnapped? Die of hypothermia maybe?”

He goes on when I don’t answer.

“I didn’t mean to stay out!”

“What were you even doing?”

“Just sittin’.”

“Just sittin’?”

He raises an eyebrow at me and laughs.

“I just wanted some fresh air, y’know? Screw off, Lucian!”

I laugh back.

“Whatever. Get inside, Mom’s wondering where the hell you’ve gone.”

He grabs my forearm to yank me to my feet and I watch as he walks back around the house to the front door. I don’t follow him. I go to my window and climb through into my room, just like how I’d gotten out the previous night. I go to my door to close it after it had been left wide open from Lucian barging in. Once I feel the click of it shutting, I slump my back against the wood and slide down until I’m sitting on the floor with my knees to my chest. I rummage through the pocket of my jacket that hangs on the doorknob for my Winstons and a lighter. I stick a cigarette between my lips and flick the spark wheel of my lighter a few times, burning my thumb a bit before it lights. I take a drag and blow the smoke toward my still open window across the room as best I can. I’d recently taken up a habit of inhaling the smog of a cigarette in the morning before putting any real nutrients into my body, though I could tell without looking at the time that it was already well into the afternoon.

Mom doesn’t like when I smoke in the house, or at all really. I don’t do it often, but since Lucian can get away with it often, I thought of it as only fair. It was always “well, Lucian’s older” this, and “Lucian‘s more mature” that from Dad. Dad always preferred Lucian over me, him being his first born son, and a hard working one at that, as much as I didn’t like to admit it. He graduated with honors this year, while working half-time, full-time on weekends, at the auto shop down the road. Since my dad had Lucian, my mom wasn’t able to shove all her affection down his throat, so instead it went down my younger sister, Helena’s. In a way though, I was okay with Helena having Mom. They had a mother/daughter relationship that Lucian and I would never experience. I take one last long drag off my cigarette and push myself off the floor, making my way towards my window. I reached out of it to put the butt out on the brick of the house then flicked it outside.

I stand at the window for another minute, just to feel the cool autumn breeze against my face, before I have to shut it and walk away. Exiting my bedroom, through the small hallway, to the kitchen, I’m met with Mom sitting at the dining table with a semi-annoyed expression.

“Good afternoon, Jude.”

“Hey, Ma.”

I respond, sliding a couple pieces of bread into the toaster.

“He’s been outside all night. Fell asleep out there. Thought he was dead.”

Lucian pipes in.

Mom sighs.

“Oh Jude, what’ll we do with you?”

I don’t comment, assuming she doesn’t need my response. I turn my attention back to the toaster when my afternoon breakfast pops out of it. As I make my way to the kitchen table, I feel a hand grab my shoulder.

“Forgot to tell you, Kovach stopped by the shop. He wanted me to give this to you.”

Lucian says to me quietly.

He sets something wrapped in old newspaper next to my hand on the table. I mumble a thanks as I take a bite of my toast.

“See ya, J.”

He gives a rough pat to my shoulder blade before heading to the front door, shouting a goodbye to everyone else in the house, then leaving for work. I barely finish the rest of my food before taking whatever Lucian gave me and heading straight back to my room. I sit on my bed with my legs crossed still holding what I could now feel to be a vinyl record. I turn it over to see “to: JJ, from: Finn” scribbled on the back with a smiley face shakily drawn next to it. Finn Kovach is my best, and probably closest friend I’ll ever have. I’ve known Finn since we were twelve and we’ve only gotten closer since then, even after I was held back a year in the ninth grade. I peel back the newspaper to reveal the record with a note taped to the front.

“Happy early birthday, Judey! Call me when you can!

Sincerely: Your Favorite”

I’ve almost totally forgotten that my birthday’s coming up. Sixteen in only a couple weeks. I lift the note up to see that the record was Never Mind the Bullocks by The Sex Pistols in seemingly great condition. I can feel a smile spread across my face as I internally thank my best friend a million times over. I look back to the letter again, my eye wandering back to “Judey.” I don’t know how it started, but I can’t help but smile to myself whenever he calls me the idiotic nickname, or JJ or, on occasion, Jelly Beans; another name I didn’t know the origin of. I continue to scan back over the letter. Even if he hadn’t asked me to call, I would’ve today anyway to meet up and listen to the record with him. Sitting around and listening to music was one of my favorite things to do. When Finn came by, I liked to play him whatever new record I’d gotten since he last saw me, and we’d sit around and do whatever we could in the minimal space of my bedroom. We used to hang around his place a lot too, but my house came to be the preferred option, ‘cuz Finn’s dad doesn’t like me much. Hell, I’m not even allowed in his house anymore. If I even step foot on his property he’d probably chase me away with an iron shovel.

I often yearn for the times when we’d see each other damn near every day. The days where we could get off school together and loiter at a local fast food joint, or blow every ounce of change we had at the arcade, or race our bikes down dirt roads until one of us fell off and fucked up his knees and elbows. The days when I didn’t have to sneak him out, and when he didn’t have to lie about where he was going.

Chapter 2

It was around mid October a couple years ago, and I was with Finn. The sun was just below the horizon and his house was empty aside the two of us. I had just turned fourteen; he was a few months shy of fifteen. We grew bored of sitting around his living room, so Finn dug through his freezer for a bottle, a little less than half full, of vodka that he knew his dad kept underneath the ice. We went up to his room and sat in comfortable silence for awhile, just enjoying each other’s presence.

We didn’t drink right away. We were too sissy at first I think, but when the bottle did open, the contents of it were close to gone in only an hour. We passed the bottle back and forth to each other, taking turns to steal a sip of the harsh liquid, then handing it back. The first few swigs felt like flames going down my throat, but I grew used to it until it felt as refreshing as ice cold water. I hadn’t drank before that moment, maybe taking a sip off my mom’s wine when she wasn’t looking, but that was it. The silence between us began to fill with lively rambling as the liquid continued to drain from the bottle into our systems.

“Dance with me Jude!”

Finn slurred with pure ecstasy in his voice; and with that, he cranked up his radio that was previously only being used for a quiet background sound.

He held out his hands to me and I pushed myself to my feet, grabbing them and nearly collapsing in the process, my inane laughter never ceasing. We stumbled around the small space of his room, my hands grasping his. We didn’t actually dance; it was far from dancing if anything, but we were too out of touch with the world around us at that point to care. Finn let go of one of my hands suddenly and spun me around, laughing at me when I tumbled backwards and fell over. He let himself plummet down next to where I lay on the floor, both of us panting and hysterical. As our breath calmed, I sat up and my gaze dropped to his face, still laid on the floor beside me. He shot me the same crooked smile I’ve been met with every time I looked at him as he tucked his arms behind his head to support it up.

“Hey, you.”

He said, and I found myself giggling for what seemed like the thousandth time that night at his somewhat charming stupidity.

We went silent again, but the radio was still loud enough for it to not be awkward anymore.

“Ay, Finn?”

I spoke mostly just to break the silence.

He hummed in response and turned to me, resting his head on only one arm now.

“Have you ever been kissed before?”

It was a random question that I had no explanation to other than my utter drunkenness, but I also think curiosity played a role in it; I wanted to know what it was like.

“Yeah. Once,”

He responded, breaking his gaze from mine to look up at the ceiling.

“Why?”

“Who was it?”

I asked, ignoring his questioning me.

“Grace Flonnet.”

He answered casually.

I knew Grace. We had a couple classes together that year. She was pretty, real pretty. I understood why he’d get to kiss her. Finn was probably the most charismatic and lovable person I’d ever met. He could walk into a funeral filled with people he didn’t know and brighten up the whole room, and bring the corpse back to life with just his presence. Hell, he could probably get anyone to kiss him if he really wanted to.

In addition to his cheery personality, he was considerably attractive. His features were soft and inviting, and his face didn’t display a single harsh mark or rough edge. His head was littered with loose, light brown, almost blonde curls that reached just above his shoulders. His skin was lightly tanned with a small patch of freckles dusted over the bridge of his nose and tops of his cheeks, and his eyes were a shade that I couldn’t describe as any color other than gold.

“Have you ever been kissed, J?”

I snapped out of my thoughts at that.

“No. Never.”

I knew why I had never been kissed. Unlike Finn, my face was made up of only harsh marks and rough edges, my skin was pale, my hair was messy and uneven, and my eyes contrasted each other in a way that wasn’t normal. I had been called freakish and received looks often. Some were of wonder, some of sourness, but no matter what, I was constantly getting some kind of glare thrown at me.

“What’re you thinkin’ about?”

Finn asked, sitting up, his curiosity obviously peaked by my unresponsiveness.

“Nothin.’ Not thinking.”

Finn laughed slightly, a short snort out of his nose, then surged in to push a sloppy kiss to my cheek meant to make me retreat away in revulsion.

“Fag.”

He uttered playfully.

“Ay, watch your mouth.”

I said in attempt to mask my nerves.

I wasn’t a fag, and neither was Finn. We were just two exceptionally curious and obscenely stupid teenagers left alone with easy access to a bottle of liquor; that was all. Nothing more, nothing less, and I was fine with that.

“Ay I’m just makin’ an observation. You asked a faggotty question,”

He chuckled, and I could feel the heat in my face as I let out a small laugh back.

Finn scooted closer to me with slight reluctancy. He took my hands and brought them to his shoulders, and wrapped his around my middle, all unsureness he displayed prior seeming to wash away when I let him.

“You okay?”

The question was unexpected, but too soft to startle me, yet I couldn’t muster a response.

I can’t remember if I decided, or if the vodka decided for me, but I leaned forward slow and carefully, waiting for him to pull back, but he didn’t. I kissed him. It was a small kiss; lasting not even a second before I pulled away, worry for my best friend’s reaction probably evident on my face. Maybe to sooth my concern, or maybe to test my boundaries, Finn leaned in like I had but quicker. More urgently, almost. This kiss was longer, nicer, but still nothing more than a peck on the lips. I understood then why he had placed our hands the way he did, and it brought me to realize he was just as filled with curiosity as I was. Finn was the first to pull away that time, and I missed him, despite him being right in front of me. I looked to the floor, then back up, then to the wall behind him. My eye seemed to do everything in its power to avoid Finn’s gaze as if it were the plague. The rest of me was frozen. I couldn’t move; I had forgotten how.

Was I okay with this? Was I just more drunk than I thought?

Would anyone else be okay with this?

The answer was: probably not,

But he pulled me in again anyway; as if it didn’t matter, but it mattered. We both knew it mattered. This time he was actually kissing me, like how men kissed their wives, and I found myself kissing back. I felt myself melting and able to move again; able to feel again. I moved my once frigid hands down from his shoulders, to his arms, to his back, and up to his shoulders again, reminiscing on how he felt in my arms. All of my morals and thoughts on what was right and what was wrong were shifted to focus on just Finn. His lips were softer than mine, and I couldn’t help but wonder how mine felt against his. I wondered if he could taste the alcohol as heavily in my mouth as I could taste it in his. I wondered if the same thoughts were going through his mind. I wasn’t even able to hear the blaring of the radio anymore, as my mind tuned out everything around me except for Finn; only Finn. It was just us.

I was torn away from the haven of my thoughts as I felt Finn rip himself away from me, and I grew cold again. I looked back to him with worry in my eyes and confusion in my mind, but he wasn’t looking at me anymore. He was looking ahead, and I followed his gaze with my own until it met his father’s. I hadn’t heard him arrive at the house or even open the door, and I supposed Finn hadn’t either. A sudden bolt of terror struck me as realization took over, and I could feel a fire ignite inside of me that burned from the inside out. Everything I could touch and feel before was making my skin sizzle and blister. I wanted to wince away in pain but I couldn’t move again; the burning was too much.

“Finnegan…”

Finn’s dad spoke in sheer disgust and I could feel my heart sink.

It was then that the blissful fog of my drunken state cleared enough for me to have one single rational thought that night. I would never find redemption from this moment. I would never find forgiveness from this mistake. That’s what it was. A mistake.

“Father.”

Finn muttered barely above a whisper, and his grip on me seemed to tighten, as if he would rip me away.

Finn’s dad stepped forward toward us, looking down on us with a shocked expression. Instead of ripping me away, he grabbed Finn by the shoulder and wrenched him upright; his expression gone from shock to pure rage. Finn let out a sharp gasp and all I could do was watch in horror and regret as he attempted to jerk away. He was dragged out of the room, and I was left alone and petrified. I could hear yelling, but only from his dad; I didn’t hear Finn say a word. His voice rumbled through the house like the way thunder disturbs the sky, and I jumped despite most of the words being incoherent to me over the radio that was left on. I was able to make out the things that were yelled the loudest; things like:

“I’D ALWAYS KNOWN THAT KID WAS NO GOOD.”

And,

“YOU WANNA’ BE A FAGGOT? I’LL TREAT YOU LIKE A FAGGOT!”

And with that I finally heard Finn’s voice in the form of a shrilled cry.

It was then that I could feel my previously unresponsive body start to move on its own as I rushed to my feet without giving my mind a chance to catch up with how urgent I was trying to pull myself off the floor. My fingers slipped as I fiddled with the lock on Finn’s window until it budged. I heard more unintelligible yelling and more screaming as I thrust the window open and hurdled out of it, face-planting into the dirt below. I didn’t want to leave Finn. The last thing I wanted to do was leave, but I knew only worse would come if I stayed. As I frantically struggled to my feet I was able to catch:

“I DON’T WANT THAT FREAK ANYWHERE NEAR MY HOUSE AGAIN, FINNEGAN. UNDERSTAND?”

I didn’t stay to listen for Finn’s response; all I knew how to do at that moment was run. I stumbled in every direction as I struggled to run, let alone walk in a straight line, causing myself to collapse on the way, but forcing myself up again until Finn’s house was out of sight. My pace slowed as I got closer to my street, though I was still shaken and dizzy. I walked the rest of the way back to my house, reeling with every step. I attempted to mask my state by standing as upright as I could before digging my house key out of my pocket and unlocking the front door. Luckily it was only Lucian and Helena in the house at the time. I staggered through the door and darted to the bathroom where I hunched over the toilet to puke. I heard Lucian’s door creak open and saw him out of the corner of my eye in a matter of seconds.

“Are you alright? Where the hell were you?”

He sounded confused and irate at the same time.

He didn’t look away from me as he awaited a response, but a response didn’t come, only more vomit. He walked away from the bathroom and I slid from the toilet onto the cold tile floor once my stomach had entirely emptied itself. Lucian came back with a glass of water in hand and set it on the ledge of the sink. I looked from the glass to his face and he made a small gesture to it as if to say “it’s for you, stupid.” I pushed myself off the floor and tried to stand but my knees buckled and I had to take hold of the sink in able to support myself. I put the glass to my lips and drank like I hadn’t drank anything in days. I hadn’t realized how thirsty I was, but the liquid trickled down my chin and neck as I set the glass back down to take in a heavy breath.

“You’re drunk.”

My body stilled. I couldn’t see myself, but I couldn’t imagine it being that obvious.

I realized there was no point in denying it, but I still said nothing; what was I supposed to say? My gaze dropped from his face to the floor. I heard the jingle of a key in the front door’s lock and Lucian’s head shot around to where the sound came from, then faced me again.

“Aw, shit.”

He muttered under his breath as he hastily yanked me out of the bathroom and into his room, shutting the door behind him. I heard the front door open and my dad’s voice call out for him.

“Stay here. Don’t come out.”

He whispered to me through gritted teeth, then left, shutting the door.

Lucian scolded me later that night before sending me into my own room once both of our parents were asleep down the hall. The whole rest of the night I wondered and worried about what had happened between Finn and his dad, and I couldn’t help but feel like it was my fault. It wasn’t like we had gone faggot. We were just kids. Was it such a sin to be curious?

Finn never told me what happened either. He said he didn’t wanna’ scare me, but that only ruled in more bad possibilities. I didn’t sleep that night. Years later I still hate the scum that is Sean Kovach.

Now here I am, standing in front of the coffee table in my living room, staring daggers down at the phone that sits on it.

Just call. He wants you to call. He asked you to call.

The same mantra that I repeated over and over to myself right before a phone call to Finn’s house plays in my head like a broken record. My eye stays locked on the phone as I lean down to pick it up. My hand’s slick with sweat and felt like it was burning up holding it. With my other hand, I dial the same number I’ve been dialing consistently for years. I prayed to any superior being that nobody in Finn’s house except for him would pick up. The other line rang too loudly in my ear; once, twice, three times…

“Hello?”

The all too familiar voice flourishes through my head like a rainbow appearing in the sky after a brutal storm. All worry satisfyingly washes away from my body. I relax my muscles and let out a breath that I didn’t know I was holding in.

“Hey, what’s up, man?”

I speak into the phone holding back a dorky smile, trying not to draw attention from my family.

“Hey, JJ!”

It feels like forever since I last talked to Finn at all, but in actuality, it had probably only been a couple weeks. We didn’t talk nearly as much as we used to, and maybe only saw each other out of school once every few months in an attempt to keep our friendship on the down low from his dad. I was still in awe at how our lack of interaction hasn’t caused Finn to completely forget about me yet, but I was grateful for it. I had other friends, sure, but I never felt like any of them came close to what Finn and I had. He was like a one and only type of friend. Someone I could never let go of.

“Thanks a shit ton for the record! Where’d you get it?”

I say more excitedly than I would’ve liked, but I knew Finn didn’t let himself be bothered by my outbursts of energy. I could punch him square in the jaw and he’d go on to assure me that he didn’t mind.

“Mars. What’ve you been up to?”

I could hear the idiotic smirk in his voice and I clear my throat, trying to tone myself down before continuing.

“Nothin’. Lou went and got fireworks the other day if you wanna’ come by.”

“Actually since you called, J, I’ve got my dad’s car tonight. Did you wanna’ go see a movie or something? It’s been awhile.”

I think about it for a brief moment, Running through every possible outcome of accepting his invitation. Normally I would’ve agreed immediately, but something about even being in Sean’s car made anger boil up inside of me.

“My dad said I gotta’ bring Evie along if I go out. She shouldn’t be a bother. Maybe you could bring around your sister to keep her busy?”

My anger ceased once Finn spoke again. Evie, his sister who wasn’t much younger than us. I didn’t have a problem with her, but I was skeptic if she’d go telling her father that Finn brought her around me, the freak. I barely knew Evie though, and I was hoping she knew equally as little about me.

“Is your dad okay with it?”

“It’s not like I’d tell him you’re coming.”

“Is your sister okay with it?”

“Why wouldn’t she be okay with it?”

He half-laughs.

“I’d have to ask my brother for money, probably. He gets off work at five.”

“That’s fine, I can pick you up around then. I’ll pay for your ticket too if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“No. You shouldn’t.”

“I was the one to invite you. I should.”

“But you’re already driving me!”

“Jude, I’ve got it!”

“But if-“

I hear a raspberry noise from Finn before I can get another word in, then the sound of the line going dead. I scrunch my face in annoyance and set the phone back. I draw out a long exhale then check the clock that sits by the phone. It just turned four.

“You going somewhere?”

I jump at the sudden voice from behind me already knowing who’s it is, and wondering how long she’d been there. Obviously long enough. I turn to Helena in the hallway glaring at me expectantly.

“Yeah. Later,”

I reply walking the short distance to the kitchen while Helena follows my every step.

“Where you goin’?”

“Out.”

“Where?”

I can hear an annoyed hint to her voice now and I snicker under my breath.

We go back and forth like this for a few minutes straight before Helena storms off down the hall. I knew Finn expressed to me the idea of bringing Helena to keep Evie out of the way, but to me, it’d just be one more kid to look after.

I sit back on the sofa, relieved, until I see Helena appear from the hallway again, this time with Dad behind her.

“Jude, where are you going?”

He demands.

I finally give knowing that I could take Helena on in an argument, but definitely not my dad.

“To see a movie.”

“Dad, I wanna’ go to the movies,”

Helena pipes in.

“Take your sister with you.”

I let out an exaggerated groan to make my disapproval apparent, but in actuality, I didn’t truly dislike Helena. If anything I only liked to mess with her.

“When will you be back?” He continues, ignoring my protest.

“Probably round’ eight.”

Dad pauses for a moment.

“Take your brother too.”

I shoot up from my place on the sofa at that, though I already knew he’d tell me to bring Lucian. It was a rule in our house that Lucian had to go with me or Helena anywhere if we were gonna’ be out past sunset. It was a stupid rule if you asked me; what’s Lucian gonna’ do if someone holds a gun to my head or kidnaps me for ransom? I’m about to protest further, but quickly change my mind when my dad sends me a look, as if telling me he already knew what I was about to do, so I shouldn’t start. I trudge back to my room instead.

Xx

I look myself over in the mirror that’s supported by nothing but being propped up against my wall. I was considering not altering my appearance out of laziness, but it took me less than a second to realize I was in no condition to leave the house. I was still in my ripped and generously stained sweatpants from the night before and one of Lucian’s old t-shirts. It was a faded gray color with “f*#k disco” across the chest. I couldn’t tell you where he got it, but it had to have been at least four years old. The shirt was already wrinkled and hideous enough on its own, and pairing it with dirty sweats and my unkept hair in turn made me appear more than hideous. I throw on a clean pair of jeans and a plain colored sweater. I eye my reflection over again.

Good enough

I grab my jacket off the doorknob as I slip out of my room and down the hall. I flop stomach-first onto the sofa in the living room and bring my lighter from my pocket to flick the spark wheel, stare at the flame for a second, then blow it out. I repeat this until I get lost looking into the red and orange blaze. I sigh a puff of air to put out the light for probably the twentieth time before I slide my body off of the sofa to lay on the shabby thin rug that covers the hardwood. I reach for the tv remote that had seemingly been kicked under the coffee table and flick on the television, watching it upside down from my position on the floor.

[primeval-dreams]

...well darn diddly I have no idea how to get outta this one. Intern, any bright ideas to get doomguy? I'd like to see what you can come up with.

First, you say he's in Ingmore's Sanctum, which requires completing the Trial of Maligog in order to reach. Now, thanks to the Slayer's own trip to the Blood Swamps to get the Dark Lord's life sphere, we know what's included in the trial, and it's not just fighting a whole lot of demons- there are also trials of mobility, and trials of endurance. So if I'm going to go to rescue him, I'm going to need to be in much better shape.

Then there's the problem of VEGA. What tomes we have translated suggests the Maykrs don't really go to Ingmore's Sanctum often, but that's not so much out of an inability, just because it was like the Father's private space. I'm going to hope there aren't any Maykrs there to guard the Slayer, but I don't think we can count on it, either. Luckily, both the Slayer and the Night Sentinels fought the Maykrs for a long time, so they're not unbeatable, and if I can get strong enough to fight demons, I'll bet I can do the same and fight the Maykrs too.

Finally, there's the problem of support- or the lack thereof. Like I said, I don't think bringing this to Earth's command is going to get us anywhere useful, so I'm probably not going to be able to get my hands on much in the way of supplies or trained manpower. There's... at least one person here on Earth I could definitely call to help out, and trust to keep it a secret, too, but... That's hardly the full squad of armed and trained soldiers I'd want to watch my back.

We owe him that much.

[thiswasinevitableid]

Riddle Me This (Indruck)

I wanted to do the sphinx fill off of the Monster March list, so here it is.

One thing they never tell you about being a hero is how much fucking walking it involves. Walking into swamps to extract a pissed-off hydra, walking in slow circles to calm a panicked pegasus, walking up a mountain to fight a bloodthirsty Roc and then walking all the way back down the damn thing to ask the townspeople why they didn’t mention that they’d been systematically hunting all the Rocs food sources in hopes of killing it and then were surprised when it started eating sheep. 

And for the last two days, walking the road between Kepler and Sylvain in the blistering heat to find the lair of the Sphinx. The sphinx who is currently lazing on rock, watching him as he writes out and erases words in the earth.

“I know what you wish of me, hero.” A voice sighs from the depths of a ruined temple, “so I will offer you the same bargain I offer any who pass here; answer my riddle correctly, and you may have what you desire, be that wealth, safe passage, or my departure from this land. Answer incorrectly and I will do whatever I desire to you, instead.”

“Deal.” He likes a battle of wits much better than a bloody extermination. And he’s not bad at brainteasers.

“Very well. Here is my question: What is it that tears into small pieces, whatever falls in its toothless mouth? And if you put your fingers in its eyes, it will instantly prick up its ears?”

Duck leans on the stony wall, rubbing his chin as he contemplates the first answers that come to mind, tossing them out one by one. 

“How long do I got?”

A wide, sharp smile prowls into view, “Until moonrise. But to tell the truth, I doubt that matters.”

To the Sphinx's credit, he hasn’t rushed Duck to answer, instead lounging about and observing him. Duck could do without the ostentatious claw sharpening, though. 

Whenever he gives his mind a rest, his attention drifts to his opponent. The sphinx is larger than him, but not the towering beast he assumed lived here. His fur is a silvery-white, his wings camouflaging easily against his sides. He can also stand on two legs and, worryingly, grab things with his front paws. If this comes to a fight, Duck was really hoping he’d at least have the edge of opposable thumbs. 

Were he not ready to eat him, Duck might call him beautiful. As it is, his red eyes glow brighter and brighter as the sun sinks behind the hills.

“You have ten minutes.”

Duck takes a deep breath and gives his best guess, “Fire.”

The sphinx cocks his head, “Interesting. But wrong.” He leaps, landing only a few feet from Duck. 

Duck unsheaths his sword, Beacon, “Right, I was hopin it wouldn’t come to this.”

“Yeees, yeees, at last, Duck Newton. Youuu neeeeed not have dithhhhered with theeee riddle.”

“Oh, oh I do not like that one bit, please put it away.”

“I ain’t fond of him either, but it beats bein’ eaten.”

“I never said I would eat you!” The sphinx’s tail lashes, “and what happened to our agreement?”

“Slaayyyy it nowww, forget theeeee bargain.”

“That’s enough outta you.” He wraps Beacon back around his waist.

“The terms were I could do what I wished with you.” 

“Which is?” Duck tenses as the creature curls around him, grinning.

“Company. And perhaps a little nibble, nothing fatal of course.” 

Before Duck can react, the sphinx pounces, ripping Beacon free and hurling him into the nearby dunes. 

“Hey, what the fuck?!” Duck kicks at him but the sphinx dodges easily, grabbing him by the back of his armor. 

“I am taking no chances.” He drags Duck across the threshold of the ruins. 

“Y’know, I was startin to feel bad about bein’ sent to kill you.”

“Oh boohoo. So you don't have a shiny sword anymore. At least people don't come to your house everyday trying to slay you.”

“People wouldn’t come to slay you if you didn’t eat them! You can just let people go on their way without answering your riddles!”

The sphinx tosses him onto a patch of dusty ground, “if I don't ask I get turned to stone! Do you think alI want from life is to sit here and ask anyone who passes a riddle?” He paces back and forth, ears back and teeth bared, “and praytell, should I not consume people who try to murder me? I haven’t eaten an innocent traveler in years.”

“Good for you.” Duck mutters, then yelps as chains descend from the ceiling and trap his wrists, “so, what, you’re gonna keep me here forever?”

“If I let you go you’ll just come back. Like a murderous carrier pigeon.”

Duck jerks his head at the monster’s back, “You got wings, you could fly to where I can’t find you.”

“I’m stuck here. The terms of my agreement with…another dictate it.” Under his breath he adds, “the whole blasted thing is just a curse these days.”

“Piss off a god or somethin?” Duck tests the chains, but even his heroic strength can’t break them. 

“No. I bargained with one. I was a man of Sylvain, once upon a time, and we were beset by wave after wave of ill luck. I asked a god for the power to see the future, so that I could help my city plan for what was coming. In exchange, I would guard their temple in a monstrous form.”

“Oh. Uh. That was real noble of you.” 

The sphinx blinks at him, “Thank you. I am going to remove your armor now, in case you are hiding anything dangerous underneath.”

“ ain’tWHOAHkay” Duck shudders as his chest plate clatters to the floor, leaving him in nothing but his white tunic, which he now wishes went lower than his thighs. He jokes when he’s nervous, which is the only reason (he swears, the feeling of soft fur on his legs has nothing to do with it) he blurts out, “usually I like to know a fellas’ name before I let him tie me up and strip me.”

“Indrid. It was Indrid. Now I am merely the Sphinx.” A paw settles on his back, and after a moment it rubs in a circle, “ohhhhhhh, this is soft.”

“Glad you like it, uh, uh okay”  the paws circle to his belly, then drop to caress his thighs, “you, uh, you think I got weapons under this thin thing?”

“Nono, I am simply enjoying your shape. Your body is such a waste on a hero, you should have been in someone's harem.”

It takes a second for the words to come together, due to the purr now filling the air. 

“Are…are you comin’ onto me?”

Indrid shrinks backwards, “Do you want me to be?”

“Beats bein’ eaten.”

“That is not a yes.” Warm arms encircle his waist and hot breath caresses the back of his neck, “I, ah, I was a very good lover in my day. If you would permit me the chance, I could attend to you in such a way.” He nuzzles his neck shyly, his voice reminding Duck of the wide-eyed fans who would approach him in inns, hoping to show the hero their admiration for his services. 

Maybe the sphinx doesn’t need to be slain, just subdued like a big, needy pussycat.

Duck sighs, leaning back into his hold, “I’m listenin’.”

The sphinx is petting his leg with his tail and running his claws up his sides, “you are so very handsome. someone so lovely deserves all the fine things and attention a creature can offer.”

Duck tips his head back with a teasing smile, “lemme guess, you've got a lot of attention to offer?”

“I am lonely, brave hero. My only visitors fear me or wish for my blood. But I have jewels, sweet words and sweeter kisses, for one who would hear me out and stay awhile.” Claws trace gently up his biceps and there’s an appreciative purr, “I have seen many, many men in my time. But none so charming as you. You have fine, strong arms. A belly on which to rest my head. A handsome face. Every inch of you  was made to caress, to worship.”

“Holy fuck, you really do know how to charm a guy.” The chains are taking more of his weight, his body relaxing as Indrid drops to all fours and rubs against him and kisses his body with pleased, reverent sighs. There’s no trace of aggression left in him, and Duck’s cock stirs at the fact he can be a hero, bound and defeated, yet completely safe in his helpless state. 

“Thank you. I have a bed of fine silks, if you would care to join me?”

“Hell yeah. But, uh, I ain’t sure I’m in a state to; I got more sand and dust on me than I’d really like.”

“Hmmm” Indrid nudges up his tunic, licking his inner thigh, “should I bathe my new toy before putting it to use?”

“Fuuuuck, no one’s ever called me that before.” He giggles as the sphinx licks the other thigh with his scratchy tongue.

“I foresaw you might enjoy it. But if you do not, tell me and I will not say such things.” The chains drop, “while the sun has burnished your skin beautifully, such sweat, dust, and grit is unfitting for so lovely a man. Come.”

Duck follows him through the winding halls to the back of the temple, where an oasis has been crafted into a bathing spot, complete with tiled benches beneath the water and flowers perfuming the summer air. Duck pulls off his tunic, tossing it aside as he sinks into the cool water with a groan of relief. 

“Fuck, didn’t realize how hot and tired I really was. I wish they’d let me use a fuckin horse or donkey or somethin to get from point A to point B. They don’t wanna waste them on ‘heroes who can withstand the hard journey.”

“What utter nonsense.”  Indrid sets a bottle on the stone, then lounges with his front paws in the water, “and deeply inefficient. I mean, you could do more heroing if you weren’t spending excess time on travel.”

“I keep tellin’ ‘em that! But kings and lords got some kinda problem where what you say goes in one ear and out the other.”

“Oh, indeed. Once, early on, one came to me for advice–I gave him an easy riddle–nodded along as I told him how to proceed, and then, apparently, did the exact opposite and got himself killed.”

“Eeesh. Wait, easy riddle? You got more than one?”

“I have dozens; I look to the future to see the odds that someone will answer correctly. I’m not going to give some poor merchant trying to get home the one I gave you; I’ll give them something obvious so they can pass by unscathed. I gave you a difficult one because I didn’t want to leave and turn to stone, and I foresaw that you might…listen to reason if you did solve it. This is all completely unexpected, by the by.” He gestures to Duck and the pool. 

“There were futures where I got it right? How far off was I?”

“You must have been close, because those didn’t disappear until right before you answered.”

“...You gonna tell me what it was?”

Indrid settles his chin on Duck’s shoulder, “Scissors.”

“Fuck, that was one I thought of. Psyched myself out.”

“It happens, hence my wording the bargain broadly so I didn’t have to eat you if you got it wrong. I learned that the hard way. You must be very good at riddles, as you are the only one who has ever gotten close.”

“Yeah, I got a head for ‘em” He kisses a fuzzy cheek and gets a mrrp in reply, “tell me some more.”

“Gladly, but I propose a trade; a riddle from me for a story of your adventures. I wish to know of the world outside the temple.” He sits up, adjusts so Duck is sitting between his legs, his back toes skimming the water as Indrid pours minty shampoo into his hair. It’s followed by claws gently massaging his scalp. 

“Fuuuuck, that’s nice.”

“I must see to it that you receive the treatment such a treasure deserves.”

“You’re sweet, pussycat.” Duck closes his eyes, more content than he’s been in years, “hit me with a riddle?”

Indrid obliges, and when Duck gets it right he regales the sphinx with a tale of his time chasing sea dragons up the coast. They trade stories and puzzles as the stars brighten in the sky. Duck eventually leaves the pool, laying on a stone still holding the warmth of the sun while Indrid waves a wing over his back to expedite his drying off. Duck is perilously close to falling asleep and so doesn’t protest when Indrid suggests he carry him on his back. As they pass beneath an arch, bright red flowers blooming on the vines within it, Duck plucks one free and tucks it behind the sphinxes ear. 

“Thank you, sweet one.” Indrid purrs, turning them into a room that’s in much better shape than the rest. In the far corner is a large bed, resting on the floor and covered in silk sheets and pillows. Indrid eases Duck onto it, then prowls atop him with a deep, hungry purr. 

“Well, my magnificent toy, what shall we do now?”

“Would you, uh, you got anythin’ that ain’t chains to tie my hands with?”

Indrid retrieves a long piece of silk, “This was in one of the offerings sent from a nearby town. Several of them have settled on bringing me fine food or other treasures in hopes of keeping me from attacking them. I told them that is not how it works but, ah, as we discussed lords do not listen well.” He ties Duck’s wrists above his head, licking and kissing his way down his right arm, across his cheek, and finally planting one on Duck’s eager lips. When he pulls back, his tail twitches and his gaze keeps darting sideways.

“Indrid? Everythin’ okay?”

“Yes, it’s just that I, no one has wanted this with me since my transformation. The fact that you do, you with your handsome face and noble heart, is a gift I cannot fully fathom.” He flashes a smile, “not to mention I did not think I would find a hero who so loves being at my mercy.”

“I don’t wanna be the tough one all the time. Sometimes a fella just wants to be a spoiled thing for a monster to play with.”

“Sweet one, I have not even begun to spoil you. For instance,” claws trace down his belly, then prick and part his thighs, his cock half-hard as it waits for attention, “I have not paid any attention to this lovely thing. Shall I use my mouth?”

“Fuck yes, just be careful with the teeEEth” he arches his back as Indrid hungrily licks from the root to the tip, “that, that works too.”

Indrid purrs, the sensation making his toes curl, and massages his thighs as his tongue dips lower to ease his balls. The roughness of his tongue is just on the right side of painful, Duck twitching and moaning whenever it runs along his cock. 

“Fuuuck, can’t believe no one ever asked you for this, fuckin’ incredible, gods I’m so fucked, no one’s mouth is ever gonna compare to you.”

“Then it’s a good thing no one else will get the chance” Indrid laps at the head, snickering when Duck moans louder, “you are my toy, sweet hero, and this cock is mine to suck whenever I please. Which will be often.”

“Fine by me, fuck, Indrid, I’m gonna cum soon, if you need to-”

“I’m not moving” Indrid licks messily over and over, “all of you is mine to enjoy, including that.” He closes his eyes an instant before Duck cums with a sound that he meant to be the combination of two curse words. Were it possible, he’d cum a second time from the sight of Indrid happily licking his cum from his chin. 

“Do, do you wanna, I mean I can use my mouth or you can fuck me or, fuck, whatever you want really I just don’t want this to be over.” He sits halfway up, only for a strong paw to push him back down. 

“Hush, hero, I’m far from finished with you. But since I have run out of patience and also have claws, I am not making use of that delectable ass of yours tonight. It wouldn’t do to break my toy.” He kisses Duck’s nose, “be a good little human and roll onto your side while I fetch what I need.”

Duck does as he’s asked, sliding against silk as he tucks his bound hands against his chest. Indrid is humming as he retrieves a bottle of oil from a pile of of jewels and what seem to be casks of wine, and it’s the most endearing thing Duck’s ever seen. 

Indrid slinks back onto the bed, curling up behind him and draping his tail over his calf, “Open your thighs. Good toy.” He spreads oil across his skin, then purrs as he settles his cock into place between his thighs. When Duck closes them, the sphinx trills, tangling one paw in his hand and throwing the other around his waist.

He thrusts slowly at first, pawing at Duck’s belly and chest, mussing his hair, and playfully licking his neck and cheeks. Duck laughs, presses his ass back just to make him purr louder.

“Having fun, treasured one?”

“Fuck yeah, Indrid, you’re so big” he squeezes his thighs together and Indrid yowls, “not just that part either, it’s so fuckin nice to feel you all around me, it makes me feel safe, like you’re, you’re protectin’ me.”

“I am, and I will.” A wing curves over him, “you protect others so often, you deserve someone to do the same to you. Provided you let him, ah, ravish your perfect form whenever he pleases.”

Duck reaches out and pets his wing, intensifying the purr, “Gods these are perfect.”

“I am glad you like them. If you want you can help me groom them later.”

“You know I want it. Wanna, wannaAH, do everythin with you.” He clings to the edge of the wing as Indrid cock bumps against his softening one, turns his face to muffle his whines in the pale fur of his chest.

“Nnff, it’s alright, be a good toy and last a little longer. That little cock of yours can take some extra attention can’t it? For me?”

“Uhhuh” Duck is blushing from top to toe, body twisting in all directions and mouth going slack with the pleasure of being used. 

“That’s what I like to hear. OH, ohohohyes, yes!” He thrusts all the way, balls hitting the back of Duck’s legs as he cums up his navel and thighs. 

Clever claws undo his bound wrists, Indrid kissing his back with grateful little purrs. Duck flips to his other side, nestling into his fur. Indrid carefully nudges him onto his back, licks the droplets from his skin before resting his head on his belly. When he looks up, his pupils are pleased slits. 

“This is just as wonderful to rest on as I hoped.”

“Be your pillow whenever you want, pussycat.”

“Mmmm, I cannot wait.” He rubs his cheek along his stomach, “you…you truly wish to stay?”

“You know it. I could do with a few days off, and even if I go back to Kepler for quests, no reason I can’t spend most of my downtime with you. Where else am I gonna find such a stunnin beast for company?” 

Indrid smiles, relieved, and closes his eyes, “The same place I would find a better hero than you. Nowhere.”

Duck rubs one soft, short ear and shuts his eyes, purrs already guiding him towards sleep, “damn right.”

[borisvonshweet]

You believe me right?

"They should have muzzled you when it happened"

Chapter 2 It was Freddy, and he didn't looked very pleased with something, but his expression was hard to ready. It was soft, but very displeased and Monty couldn't tell weather he was about to get an ear full or if Freddy was going to hug him. "Well howdy do to you Freddy Bear, and what brings you to my swamp pit?", Monty gave a forced smile cringing at the way he gave an overly happy hello to the orange bear. Freddy clutched the area in-between his eyes and sighed, "Montgomery, we both know that you have your.. grievances but imitating our fallen friend is Unacceptable" Freddy scolded Monty, the gator rolling his eyes and looking to the side knowing what is gonna come next. Well what Monty expected was heavy lecture about how he "Was only doing it for attention" and that " you're doing this on purpose like you pushed bonnie into the moat" but the lecture didn't come Freddy just stared at the disheveled figure the gears in his brain clicking ever so loudly as if he was thinking of something to say. "Hey. Monty, Look at me" Freddy said with a commanding tone as he got down to Monty's level so he could be eye to eye with him. "Look. I've been.... Thinking.. and I-", Freddy quickly cut himself off as he noticed a familiar shade of purple sticking outta Monty's floor. He cocked his eyebrow and shuffled his way to the compartment that Monty has haphazardly. Monty watched in silence as the bear opened the compartment to find the water logged and rotten head of their former band member sitting in front of him. "Glamrock Montgomery Gator....", Monty cringed at his full name knowing what was about to happen. "Do, Do you just think this is all just some sick game? Don't you have a sense of dignity! a sense of compassion? even the slightest smidge of sanity left in that empty endoskeleton head?!? Our band member! our friend and family!! You desecrated his body, stole from him, and play puppet with his head, acting like he if your best friend!!?". Monty shrunk down into his skin as he tried to hide from the degrading words of the bear, his eyes flickered from the door to the bear’s harsh glare hoping, just willing for someone to interrupt the bear and pull his attention away from the gator. “Are you even listening to me?!? .. To think I came down here to try and make peace with you, you really are the horrible monster everyone sees you as.”. “Freddy! I can-”, Monty was cut off by Freddy shutting his mouth with his enlarged paws. “That's Mr. Fazbear from now on, You should have been muzzled a long time ago. just, I can not even speak to you anymore you disgust me. Here take this tainted head back I’ll make sure to keep you away from him once he’s been rebuilt”. Freddy shoved the head into Monty’s hands, Giving one more disapproving stare at the gator, he left slamming the door behind him. Monty stared at the door, completely in shock, looking at the head in his hands he thought over the words that had furiously left Freddy’s mouth. “They.. are.. Rebuilding him? I, I can clear my name!” He thought aloud, ignoring the harsh word Freddy had said he began happily dancing around his room with the stinky rabbit head. “I’m Getting my best friend back”

[tiny-slasher]

Bo Sinclair x Reader | Swamped

Alternate Universe where Bo and Vince aren’t murderers.

* . °•★|•°∵ ∵°•|☆•° . *

I had a dream the other night about Bo, and decided to turn it into a fic. My dream was actually a bit darker toned...but it didn’t turn out that way in the fic. So if this seems a little chaotic, that’s why. Blame dream me. Dream Sweepy is a different entity altogether. She should not be trifled with.

* . °•★|•°∵ ∵°•|☆•° . *

Your soaked shoes squelched against the burning pavement, steps heavy as your waterlogged clothes weighed you down. You angrily wiped the sweat from your brows as you squinted, trying to see even a foot in front of you in the bright, afternoon sun.

"I'm sorry, okay?"

Your sister's voice grated on your ears, making you clench your teeth in frustration. You heard her quicker steps try and keep up with yours; her own shoes splashing water against your legs as she got closer.

"Please say something? I said I was sorry!"

You sharply turned to her and snapped, "Tell that to the car sinking in the swamp."

Your sister pushed her sweat-soaked hair from her face, expression the most apologetic you'd ever seen. The anger in your heart fizzled a bit when she whispered another apology, but that didn't ease your frustration. Your nerves were still a bit rattled after the ordeal, and there was a bruise forming on your shoulder from where you'd hit the window of your car. Irritated didn't begin to cover how you felt.

Still, you were thankful neither of you had gotten hurt.

"How far do you think we gotta walk?" she asked hesitantly.

"I don't know."

"My feet are starting to hurt..."

"Be thankful you still have feet."

She huffed and crossed her arms, muttering under her breath as she trailed after you. You couldn't really blame her...it was very hot, and the two of you had been walking for over an hour. You continued for a while longer, each step more difficult than the last. You'd developed a pretty nasty headache, either from thirst or from the heat, and your sister wasn't doing much better.

"Hey, you think there's anyone up over there?"

You looked up to where your sister was pointing, eyes widening. There, slightly obscured by trees was some sort of old building, made almost entirely out of wooden planks. The windows were dingy, and a screen door covering the entryway. It almost seemed abandoned, if it hadn't been for the old pickup truck parked on the dirt in front of it.

"Come on," you said, making your way off the paved road and onto the dirt.

As the two of you made your way over, you saw a sloppy, hand-painted sign at the top of the building that read "Mechanic", and you raised an eyebrow at it. The hairs on the back of your neck stood up as you walked up the front creaking front steps. Your sister stood close behind you, her posture just as nervous as your own. You rolled your shoulders back and straightened up, and headed into the building.

The screen door rattled and creaked loudly as you pushed it open, the springs holding it shut straining against your hold. You heard the low, static hum of a radio playing some sort of old country song. There were boxes of tools and grease-covered appliances without any real organization, and the floor looked like it had never been swept.

"Vince, shut the damn door 'fore you let the gnats in!"

You stepped into the room, your sister less than a foot behind you, and turned to your right to see two young men. One was standing, resting his arms on a wooden rail that acted as a room divider. A dirty hat rested on his head, and his grimy hands picked at the splintering wood they rested on. The other man was sitting in a chair, with his boot-covered feet up on a scratched up desk that took up nearly all the space in the cramped area. He was messing around with a pocket knife, running his thumb over the blade innocuously. There were papers scattered over the entirety of the desk, rustling in the breeze of the desk fan that sat in the corner. You noted the few other pocket knives laying around, holding the papers down.

The one standing noticed you first, and his relaxed expression grew a bit nervous. He cleared his throat, offering you a grimy, but polite smile. The one sitting lifted his gaze towards you, and paused in his fiddling. You swallowed as his gaze pierced you, pinning you in place without having to move a single muscle.

"You definitely ain't Vince."

You shifted on your feet uncomfortably, eyeing the man down almost glaringly.

"Well come on in then," he sighed, setting his feet on the ground and running a hand through his tousled and slightly sweaty hair.

You stiffly walked and sat in a chair on the other side of the desk, thankful to finally give your feet a break.

The standing one walked over with another chair, gesturing for your sister to sit in it. She thanked him, and practically fell into it with a loud sigh. You caught an amused glint in the sitting man's eyes, before he turned back to look at you, squinting at your damp clothes.

"What can I do for ya?"

"We need a ride."

"Car troubles, right?" His brows furrowed, "You too cheap to have me fix it or somethin'?"

"I don't think you can fix it," you dryly replied, earning an offended scoff from him.

"If anyone can, it's Bo," the standing man said behind you, a proud smile on his face as he gestured to the man in front of him.

You rubbed the bridge of your nose, "No it's not...trust me it's not worth the trouble at this point."

The man standing behind you shifted as he continued to lean on the railing, as the sitting man...Bo, squinted at you.

"The hell'd you do to it?" he asked judgmentally.

You crossed your arms with a pout, and out of your peripheral you saw your sister begin to sink lower and lower in her seat, hoping to not be brought into the conversation. Bo, however, noticed, and leaned back in his chair with a raised eyebrow.

He smirked at you, "Ah, someone decided to sabotage the ride, huh? What'd she do? Put her hand over your eyes?"

Your sister sunk even lower, and you didn't feel the need to reply.

Bo leaned back in his seat, "Well where's the car at? Lester can tow it over here for ya."

You glanced back at the man behind you, who gave you a confirming nod, and you sighed, "He might not be able to find it."

"Why not?" Bo asked, twirling his pocket knife in his hand.

You reached over to trace the scratches in the wood of the desk, your fingers coming dangerously close to one of the pocket knifes lying there. You slowly lifted your gaze up to Bo, eyes dark.

"It's sinking in the damn swamp somewhere."

There was a long drawn out silence, before Bo laughed so hard his head lolled back. The man behind you...Lester, began to laugh as well, but tried to be a bit more polite about it. If you hadn't been extremely annoyed, you might've noticed that Bo's laugh was very endearing.

"Ah shit," Bo coughed and snickered at you. "Is that why you're drippin' all over my floor?"

You narrowed your eyes, and grumpily leaned onto the desk.

"Look, can you just give us a ride into town please?"

Bo continued to calculatingly stare at you, as if weighing his options.

"I mean, my services ain't free, darlin'."

Normally, you might've been lured in by that southern drawl, as Bo had intended, but you glanced over at your sister. She was tired, hungry, and most likely had blisters on her feet just as bad as your own. The anger on your face melted into concern, and Bo noticed. The two of you shared a look, and you could see the moment that Bo had made up his mind.

With a deep sigh he stood up, and grabbed the car keys on the desk. "Come on then, I ain't got all day."

As he walked out of the building, you grabbed one of the pocket knives on the desk and stuffed it into your pocket...just in case, and then followed him out.

He surprised you by opening the passenger door, waiting for you to get in.

"Didn't realize you were such a gentlemen."

He smirked at you, about to reply when your sister cut in, "I want to sit in the back!"

She was already in the truck bed next to Lester before you could so much as roll your eyes. After you and Bo got into the truck yourselves, he started it up and began driving into town.

"So, what brings ya all the way down here to Ambrose?"

You shrugged, "Just a road trip, we were passing through."

"Yeah, most people do. There ain't much to see down here, 'sides a buncha mosquitos," Bo hummed. "And a wax museum...but it's kinda an eyesore. Definitely overrated."

You hummed in reply

"Do you even get business out here?" you asked curiously.

"You'd be surprised how many people run outta gas, or blow out a tire," Bo glanced at you with a smirk. "Although, I ain't had many people drive straight into the water before. Most people tend to stay on the road, yknow?"

"Fuck you."

Bo's laugh was hearty, and a bit wheezy. You tried to ignore the flip flops your stomach did at hearing it, but a smile still managed to reach your lips.

You stared at the scenery for a while, thinking about all the things you'd have to sort out once you got into town. You'd definitely need some new clothes, and a shower...you were sure you'd begun to smell pretty awful.

"Sorry for getting your truck all gross," you gestured to your damp and sweaty clothes.

"Nah, don't worry 'bout it. Lester stunk it up long 'fore you got here."

You huffed out a small laugh, catching the way his lip curled when he grinned. You relished in the warm feeling in your stomach upon seeing it, until you glanced out the window and saw that he was pulling into the parking lot of a small restaurant.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm hungry, and I'll bet you and your sister back there are too after all that walkin'," Bo replied, getting out of the truck, walking around to your side to open the door.

"I-"

"You can consider it as your payment for havin' me chauffeur you all over town."

"You drove me ten miles down the road...that's not exactly going all over town," you retorted, folding your arms. "And I don't want to buy you dinner."

Bo just smiled at you, and began to walk into the restaurant, expecting you to follow him. Your sister ran up beside you, droning on about whatever she and Lester had been talking about. Bo stood at the door, holding it open expectantly at you. What were you gonna do? Walk to the nearest hotel? With an angry huff, you shoved past him, sending a scathing look his way. His smirk was smug towards you.

The restaurant was pretty old, but full of people. The food smelled good, at least...and you were hungry.

"Alright, so you grab a tray, and then walk over to that lovely lady behind the counter to tell you what you want-"

"I know how to order," you bit out to Bo, as he leaned away from your ear. He simply smirked at you and then looked back up the menu hanging above the food line.

"Damn, that steak sounds pretty good..."

"Don't you fucking dare," you hissed, earning a glance from your sister. Her eyes flitted between you and Bo, and then she grinned at you. The look you gave her was enough to keep her mouth shut, but her grin spoke paragraphs.

Eventually, the four of you made it through the line. You'd been nervous when Bo ordered, but was relieved when he picked something cheap; reciting it as though he'd done it a thousand times before. You grabbed a cup and swiftly walked over to the drink fountain, filling it with water...since you hadn't had anything to drink in hours. You turned to head to the table you saw Lester and your sister sitting at, only to run straight into Bo and spill water down your already damp front.

"Need me to carry that for ya, sweetheart?" he drawled, eyes lidded.

"No, I've got it," you bit out, rushing away from him as fast as you could.

Sitting down, you picked at your food with your fork. Your stomach felt a bit queasy, just from the entire ordeal you'd been through that day, so you didn't eat much. You focused on sipping your water, instead.

Bo sat down across from you, his legs hitting yours as he stretched them out obnoxiously far. You glared up at him, but he pretended to not notice. When you shoved at his leg, he just smiled at you, and ate a bite of his meal, stretching his legs even farther into your space.

"So, Lester said you had a twin, Bo," your sister said. "Is he as handsome as you?"

Bo snorted, "He wishes."

"Uh...Vince has a...his face 's got a lotta scars," Lester said awkwardly. "He and Bo were conjugated."

"Conjoined, dipshit," Bo barked. "The fucker stole half of the back of my head, and never gave it back."

"He might still be holdin' a grudge, since you got half his face."

Bo turned to Lester, who was failing to hold back a grin, and smacked him upside the head. Lester let out a loud laugh, and you couldn't help but feel a bit amused.

"So, are you the baby brother?" your sister grinned at Lester, who turned red.

"Yeah ma'am, s'pose I am..."

You sipped at your water, making an effort not to guzzle it down.

"Not hungry?" Bo asked, nudging your ankle with his foot.

You looked back down at your food, "Not really...it's been a long day."

Your sister took that as confirmation that she could help herself to it, but you couldn't bring yourself to care. You felt Bo's eyes on you the entire time, but you tried to ignore him.

Lester spoke to your sister, both of them enjoying each other's company and friendly banter. You could hear them, but your mind didn't process anything they said. You simply continued to sip your water, mentally going over what you would need to do once you were a hotel somewhere.

You were abruptly torn from your thoughts when Bo's boot nudged your foot, aggravating the blisters that had already formed there. You winced and irritatingly looked up at Bo, only to find him leaning back and looking over at Lester. Rolling your eyes you looked away, glancing over at the desserts in the corner. Your eye twitched when you felt his boot touch your foot again, a bit more strongly than before. It wasn't until the fourth time he did it that you finally snapped your head over to glare at him, only to have him get up from the table and walk off. You slumped in your seat grumpily, running your finger along the rim of your cup of water.

You blinked when a piece of pie was set down in front of you.

"Ooh thanks!" your sister exclaimed, when Bo set another piece down in front of her.

You stared at Bo as he sat back down across from you, with his own piece.

"Come on now, don't tell me you ain't got room for dessert, at least?" Bo incredulously remarked, biting into his own.

You huffed, "Not when I'm the one paying for it..."

Bo snorted, "Come on, just eat it 'fore it gets dust on it. If you don't like it, you can have mine."

Sighing, you took a bite of your piece, and found it much more enjoyable than you'd expected.

"Good, ain't it?" Bo smirked, and you resisted the urge to flip him off.

You watched tiredly as your sister devoured her own piece, telling Lester about the gator they'd seen out their window earlier that day. It hadn't been that impressive...a tiny little thing, really, but Lester seemed entranced by the conversation nonetheless. You smiled at a joke he made, when you heard a clinking noise from in front of you. Glancing down, your eyes widened at the sight of Bo quickly snatching his fork, which had snagged a large chunk of your pie, back and shoving it into his mouth.

"Hey!"

"You were lettin' get all nasty!" he defended himself, laughing and wincing as you kicked at his legs.

Your sister was snickering at the two of you, when Bo's phone starting buzzing. He pulled it out, and answered it with a sigh.

"Yeah? No we're fine, we'll be home in a little while," he said. "Yeah sorry...forgot to tell you. Okay, bye."

Bo hung up, and then stood, "Guess we'll have to get a move on. I forgot it's movie night."

"Oh yeah!" Lester exclaimed. "Vince is probably so mad..."

"He'll live," Bo rolled his eyes, heading towards the door.

"Wait...aren't I supposed to pay?" you frowned, confused.

Bo smirked, "Nah, I already paid. Come on."

Your mouth hung open as he walked off, and you couldn't tell if you were relieved or infuriated. Deciding it was the latter, you stormed up to him as he pulled open the door of his truck to let you in. Getting up in his face, you hissed, "You did that all on purpose, you jackass!"

"Sure did," he winked. "What're you gonna do?"

You just huffed at him and crawled into your seat, glaring at him as he shut the door and began to walk to his side. Suddenly struck with an evil idea, you leaned over and locked his door. The smirk on his face fell, and he stared at you through the window.

"The hell are you doin'?"

You flipped him off, earning a fiery glare in response.

"Open the damn door!" he demanded, before sending you a confused smile. "This is my truck!"

You just casually sat on your side, seeing your sister and Lester watch everything unfold from the back window, and smirked at him.

He tugged harshly on the door handle, jiggling it as if that would magically unlock it, "If you don't open this door, I'm gonna call the cops!"

You rolled your eyes, "You've got keys dumbass."

Bo froze, his cheeks heating up in embarrassment, as he reached into his pocket and pulled out his car keys. You could hear Lester howl in laughter, and Bo yelling at him to shut up. He practically slammed the door shut behind him as he got in, turning to give you a scathing glare.

"...Where to, sweetheart?" he bit out lowly, his eyes burning.

"Hotel please," you replied with a smile.

He started the engine and then began the short drive into town, sending you angry glances every so often.

"Don't be like that," you grinned. "I was just getting even."

He just fumed in embarrassed silence, his grip on the steering wheel white-knuckled. You frowned, realizing he'd gotten much angrier than you'd expected.

"I'm sorry, I was just messing with you," you sighed. "Thanks for giving my sister and I a ride...you didn't have to."

He grunted in affirmation, his grip loosening a bit.

"And for putting up with how bad I must smell."

At that, Bo let out a soft laugh, "Nah, I've smelled worse, trust me."

The rest of the car ride was comfortably silent, with the two of you occasionally making eye contact with each other. Soon, a hotel came into view, and you tried to ignore the feeling of disappointment in your chest. It only grew heavier as he pulled into the parking lot there.

"Well, here ya are," he said, not looking at you.

"Thank you," you assured him, opening the door to get out.

You paused, reaching into your pocket to pull out the knife, and held it out to him.

"Is that...did you snag one of my knives?" he asked with a laugh, eyebrows raised in surprise.

"Yeah..." you mumbled. "Sorry I just..."

"You're smarter than I thought. You keep it," he chuckled, a glimmer of admiration in his eyes, and shoved it back towards you. "Somethin' to remember me by. Besides, you know where I'm at if you ever wanna look at this handsome face again."

The heaviness in your stomach lifted at that realization, and you smiled at him. Leaning over, you gave him a kiss on the cheek, to which he stiffened and stared at you in surprise.

"I'll see you around, Bo," you said, getting out of the truck.

He nodded, beet red and adjusting the collar of his shirt, while Lester climbed into the passenger seat.

"Y'all be safe," Lester said with a smile.

You and your sister waved at them as they drove off, a bit sad when they finally disappeared down the road.

Your sister nudged you in the side, "You're welcome."

"For what?"

"Wrecking the car," she grinned. "If it weren't for me, you would never have met Mr. Handsome."

You kicked at her shins, "Shut up."

"We're goin' to see them again tomorrow, right?"

"Of course."

[crashdevlin]

Intense

One Night at a Time Masterlist

Author’s Note: Part seven of One Night at a Time series.

Summary: Y/n is trying to move on after Dean gets sent to Purgatory. She's hunting nonstop to outrun the questions in her head...what does she do when Dean shows up after more than a year?

Pairing: Dean x Reader, Benny x Reader (kinda)

Word count: 3575

Story Warnings:  mentions of harm to reader, mentions of scars, poor self-esteem, angst, Dean being Dean (a bit of a jerk),  18+! HERE BE SEX!! DON’T READ IF YOU’RE A YOUNG’UN!!!, unprotected sex, vaginal fingering, rough sex, creampie

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

I should have been there, closer, beside him when he stabbed Dick Roman and sent him back to Purgatory. I should have stopped Crowley from getting his hands on Kevin. I should have done something more than just stand there while everything fell apart.

And I tried, you know? I tried to find another way into Purgatory. I tried for months to get Dean back. But it was useless. I was useless. Useless to Dean and Kevin and Sam, but not useless on a hunt. I’ve always been at my best on a job.

So I go back to hunting. Vamps and ghosts and this shifter in Utah...a few demons here and there. I jump from job to job, catching a few that aren’t even monsters because as soon as I slow down, my brain goes to Dean. Missing him, yes. Missing him with everything in me, but also...he might have liked me, but...he never said he dreamed of me until after Castiel fixed my scars. He never got nervous about sleeping with me when I had the scars. He was a bit of an asshole to me, actually.

So I hunt. To avoid questions that plague me that don’t even matter anymore, I hunt.

I haven’t heard from Sam in over a year. He’s not on the radar. He’s not hunting. I guess that’s better, leaves more jobs for me.

I get wind of a vampire sighting in Clayton, Louisiana. No body drop, just someone saying they saw a fanger, but I check it out anyway. I have to do something to keep my mind busy.

I go the normal route, bars and nightclubs are generally the way you find a fang, but there’s not a lot in that area in Clayton. One bar full of blue collar boys and no nightclubs. Still no bodies. I head to a local park overlooking a lake and sit on a small wooden bench. There’s something interesting about cypress trees sticking out of the water, Spanish moss hanging from the branches. It’s not pretty, not in any conventional way, but it is at the same time.

“You not from aroun’ here, are you?” a man says, moving to sit next to me on the bench.

I turn to look at him. A blue-eyed man with a light beard and a hat. He’s not quite the swamp-dwelling men I found at the bar. “What makes you say that?”

“Just got a feelin’ about you. Says you’s a traveler. You got a nomad look,” he says, smiling brightly.

I smile and nod. “Yeah. You could say that. I’ve been pretty much everywhere.”

“I used to do a lotta sailin’, so I been around a few times. Sometimes, I think I can sense people with an envie to roam. Mus’ be what drew me ta you.” He smiles at me again and I chuckle.

“Are you sure it wasn’t the fact that I was a weirdo staring at the water? Didn’t come over here to check me into a mental hospital or something?” I ask, smirking.

“Nah. Pretty lady with her head lost in the cypress? Nothin’ wrong wit’ dat.”

I feel my cheeks heat up and look away toward the trees again. “Thank you.”

“No problem, cher. I’m Benny.”

“Y/n,” I respond, offering my hand. He takes it and kisses the knuckles. His lips are a bit cold, but it’s pretty cool for August.

“Well, iss real nice meetin’ you, Y/n. You gonna be around town a few days?” he asks. Is he flirting with me?

“Maybe. The ‘envie to roam’ might kick up real soon.” Might not be anything here and I have to find a job soon. I have to find a distraction.

“Well, if you don’t roam before tonight, I could buy you a drink?”

I lick my bottom lip between my teeth and nod. What better way to look inconspicuous on a vamp hunt than to have drinks with a handsome man? “That’d be nice, Benny. I’ll meet you at the bar at 7?”

“I’d like that.”

He’d like that. Why would he? Why did he even want to talk to me?

I go anyway. He buys us beers. He's charming and funny, down to earth but not simple. I don't know if it's the quaint Louisiana backwoods of him or what, but he seems like a man out of time. Which should have been the first clue, but my Spidey-sense doesn't go off until he walks me to my car and leans in to kiss me.

It's nice and he's an amazing kisser, but the fact that he's kissing me?

My mind goes to Marco.

I whisper 'Cristo' when he pulls away, but he doesn't flinch, just looks at me a bit odd. "I didn't think I was that good a kisser you gotta call for the Lord, cher."

I nod and smile tightly. "Right. Uh...I had a nice night, Benny. You've got my number. Text me sometime," I ramble out a bit before I slide into my driver's seat and peel out of the parking lot. He must be the fang I'm looking for. Only explanation. It's the only reason he'd flirt with me, kiss me, why his lips were cold. Trying to get me alone so he can drink me or turn me.

I'll set a trap, get some dead man's blood, confirm what he is...Benny's big so maybe I should have some backup but at the end of the day, he's just one vamp and I've taken down bigger.

I'm trying to figure out a way to get some dead man's blood in this nowhere town when there's a knock on my motel door. I grab my gun and approach, looking through the peephole. I almost drop my gun.

Dean Winchester, or something that looks like him, is standing at my door.

“Open the door, Y/n!” It knows my name. “And put the piece away. You can test me as soon as you open up.”

It can’t be him. It can’t but...if anyone could claw his way back…

I open the door and stare blankly at him for a minute. “You...can’t...be.”

He smiles and steps inside. “You got some borax, holy water, silver knife?” I just stare for another few moments. “Okay, well, I got the knife,” he says, pulling out a knife I recognize and slicing it across his arm.

“How are you here?” I whisper.

“Long story,” he says, wrapping a handkerchief around his arm. “Borax?”

I swallow and rush to my duffel bag. After I splash him with cleaner and holy water, I hand him a towel. “It’s really you?”

“Yeah. It’s really me.” He sets the towel aside and licks his lips, grimacing at the taste of the borax. “I was sad when Sammy told me he hadn’t seen you all year.”

I shrug and look away. “I was keepin’ busy...he wasn’t.”

“How busy?” he asks.

“Busy enough.” Had a lot on my mind.

“Sam retired. You hear about that?”

“I assumed. He dropped off the face of the earth and left all the good cases for me.” I sit on the edge of the bed and look at my feet.

“He was in Texas.” He moves to stand over me, looking down. “You been hunting by yourself again?”

“Nothing new, Dean.” I shake my head. “The only time I wasn’t hunting solo was the few months I was with you and Sam. I’m good without backup.”

“But Sam shouldn’t have abandoned you to go play house with some chick in-”

“Does it really matter?” I look up and sigh. “He deserved a break.”

“No, he didn’t! I was in Purgatory and he just quit. At least you kept fighting.”

“I didn’t really have a choice.” I clear my throat and bite my bottom lip. "So you got out."

"Yep. I did."

"How'd you find me?" I ask.

"Friend found you for me...not that he was really looking." He clicks his tongue against his teeth and clears his throat. "So Sam and I just got done doin’ a wolf case in Michigan...got a few days probably...unless you got something-”

“I’m on a fang. If you wanted to-”

“How many victims?” he asks, a little too quickly.

“Well, none but someone I trust saw the thing. Just because they haven’t killed anyone yet doesn’t mean-”

“Y/n.” He grabs my chin and tilts my face up to look at him. He’s still so beautiful but there’s something primal in his eyes. “No body means no monster. You don’t need to be here.”

“I’m s-sure there’s a...there was this guy, B-Benny, he-”

“No, babe.”

“Guys don’t give me attention unless they have a motive, Dean.” I pull away from him and his eyes narrow at me and a chill goes down my spine. Not a good one, though. I’m fucking scared...of Dean. That primal look in his eyes is terrifying and I’ve faced down a lot scarier shit than him.

“Motive? What’s that supposed to-” His jaw ticks as he steps close and crowds me a bit. “You’re back on your bullshit about people not liking you, aren’t you?”

“I don’t get attention, Dean. Benny is just Marco part two.”

“Marco was sent after you, Y/n. Benny just found you.”

“Or I found him! Maybe he’s the one I was here looking for and-”

Dean reaches out and grabs my hair, making me gasp. “Benny is not your concern. No one’s died. You’re after nothing,” he practically growls at me.

“Okay!” I squeak and it’s pathetic...but he’s scaring the fuck outta me. What the hell? What happened to him while he was gone? “There’s nothing here.”

He lets go of my hair and sighs. “Why don’t you pack up and we’ll go meet up with Sam?”

“Dean...I don’t-”

“Y/n.” There’s a warning in his tone and I look away from him.

“Fine. Can we stay here tonight? I’m kinda exhausted.” I don’t wanna go anywhere with him acting like this. Maybe he’ll be less scary in the morning. Unlikely.

He sighs again, obviously annoyed with me, but he nods and pulls his jacket off. He tosses it at the chair in the corner and flops down onto the bed, pulling out his phone. “I’ll call Sam. Let him know.”

I nod and move to the other side of the bed, lying down and turning onto my side away from him.

All the questions I was running from, working to hide from, they all come flooding back as Dean settles into the bed with me. The questions bring friends. Why is he here? Why would he come here? Who found me for him? Why did he want me found? And why’s he being an asshole again?

Not just an asshole, but a scary asshole. And I don’t think I want to hunt with him like this. I’m uncomfortable. I’m anxious. I’m confused. I’m...sneaking out of bed while he sleeps and getting out of Louisiana. I’ll call Sam when I get some miles between me and Dean. I just can’t do this right now.

I know he hates it when I leave without saying ‘goodbye’ so I leave a note.

Then I leave. I make it to a convenience store in Meridian, Mississippi before I have to stop. I get bad mileage in this old car. I set the pump and head inside, grabbing a case of beer and a hand basket full of snacks. I drop them in the backseat and go around to the restrooms, hoping for something clean-ish. I push open the door, but I haven’t stepped into the room when a hand covers my mouth and I get forced into the room.

“Don’t fuckin’ scream.” It’s Dean. Fuck. At least the bathroom’s clean, I’m not grossed out when he presses me into the wall with his body. “The fuck do you think you’re doin’?”

He pulls his hand away from my mouth and I take a deep breath. “You’re scaring me, Dean,” I whisper.

“Oh, I’m scaring you?” he snaps, grabbing my shoulder and twisting me around to face him. His eyes are wild and full of rage. “You know I hate it when you disappear on me. You didn’t even stick around an hour before you left this time! Ya know, you’re always worried about how people don’t like you, but you’re the one that’s not givin’ anyone a chance to get close.”

“Dean, you’re being a dick. Why would I stick around when you’re scaring me?” My voice is squeaky, my body almost shaking. I can face monsters any day of the week, but I’m shaking over this man.

His face softens, his eyes losing a bit of their edge, and I think he’s gonna step back from me for a moment, but he doesn’t. He steps closer, leans his head down, hovers his lips over mine. Suddenly, I’m feeling a tingling lust between my thighs on top of the fearful shaking in my limbs. “Wasn’t tryin’ to be a dick, baby,” he whispers, his breath warming my lips. “Just spent a year in Purgatory. Came back a little...intense.”

“That’s an understatement.” My head’s getting a little dizzy as my heart thuds in my chest.

“Spent all that time missin’ you, wanting you, dreaming of burying my cock in your tight little cunt.” I gasp as he grabs my waist with one hand and braces himself against the wall next to my head with the other. “Intense isn’t necessarily a bad thing, Y/n.”

"Dean," I whimper. I want him. I always want him, but hearing those words...that he was thinking of me… "Why would you miss me?"

He rolls his eyes, and it's this aggressive thing that chills me. "You gotta stop this shit. I spent all those months buildin' you up, showin' you how much I appreciate you and all that work I put in...it's just gone?"

"Why?" I whisper before I can stop myself. His eyebrows come together and I close my eyes. "I'm not...worth...any-"

'Shut it!" he growls and I jolt against him, eyes opening and finding his. "You are worth everything I could ever fuckin' give you. I put the effort in because you deserve it, because I need you, Y/n. The last year of my life has been death and destruction, and fear and adrenaline, and the only thing that kept me going was the thought of makin' it back here to you and my brother. You're like family.”

‘Family’. I’m like...needs me? He-

I lean forward and kiss him, wrapping my arms around his neck and pulling him close. My brain’s not working right, I’m overwhelmed and confused, but my body knows what I want. He groans and presses me harder into the wall, pushing my shirt up and grabbing my breasts over the bra. He drops his hands to the front of my jeans, popping open the button and sliding his hand into my underwear to cup my mound.

I suck his tongue into my mouth as he starts fingering me. He’s going a little rougher than he used to. That scary primal energy is translating into something...so sexy. “Oh, god,” I whisper as he works two fingers against my inner walls. “Shit! Dean, fuck!”

“You make the prettiest fuckin’ noises.” His voice rumbles in my ear, makes me clench around his fingers. “You gonna cum on my fingers, baby?”

I whine and grind against his fingers. I’m so close. God, he’s so good at making me feel good. “I’m gonna--Dean, I’m gonna--Don’t stop!”

“I’m gonna make you cum ‘til you can’t fuckin’ stand it, Y/n,” he promises, pressing the heel of his palm into my clit. I squeal as my toes curl in my shoes and my orgasm crashes over me. I don’t even have a chance to get my wits about me before he’s spun me around and pushed me over the sink. He yanks my pants down to my boots, but he tears my panties off. I hold back the shriek that wants to bubble up as the cotton rips at the sides. He starts sucking at the skin of my neck, digging his teeth into my shoulder as he fumbles with his belt and jeans. He knocks my knees apart and leans over me, sliding his cock along my slit a few times before he slides in all at once.

“Dean!”

He’s rough, fucks me hard, digs his fingertips into my waist, my boobs, my thighs. He bites into my shoulder through my shirt, punches air out of my lungs with each thrust. He moves a hand between my thighs to pluck at my clit and I scream as I cum again, but he’s not done. He’s making good on his promise to make me cum ‘til I can’t stand it, definitely ‘til I can’t stand, because my legs are shaking and weak, the sink is the only thing holding me up as he keeps going. How is he still going?

“Dean, please! I need--I need you--”

“What’d’you need?”

“Need to feel you fill me up,” I whimper. Oh, that’s stupid. I’m not on the pill. But why is it so hot?

He hisses and kisses my jaw and pinches my clit. “One more, Y/n. Gimme one more.”

“I can’t!”

“Yes, you can,” he demands. He sucks my earlobe into his mouth and nibbles on it, rolls my clit between his thumb and first finger. “Cum for me, one more time, cowgirl.” He moves faster, fucks me hard and plays with my clit more and I cum screaming into the mirror over the sink. “Good girl.” He moves his hand away from my clit and braces it against our reflection. He hammers into me, lasts another few thrusts before his breath catches as he cums, his cock twitching as he gasps in pulls of air. “Fuck. That was...so worth it.”

I don’t disagree. Fuck.

He pulls out, holds me up as he fixes his clothes, then moves to fix mine. He caresses my cheek and leans in to kiss me passionately. I’m a bit breathless when he pulls away. Intense. He’s definitely...intense.

“You changed,” I whisper. “Purgatory changed you.”

“Of course it did,” he responds, licking his lips. “But what are you, specifically, referring to?”

I look away. His eyes are too green, too hypnotic. “You were gentle before you left...almost awkward with me after Castiel made me kinda...pretty again?” I don’t know why that turned into a question.

“You were always pretty.” He bites his bottom lip and sighs. “Last time we were here, when you gave me your motel key...I was gentle then too, right? And that was way before Cas healed you. You’re right that I wasn’t awkward then, but I wasn’t tryin’ to build a relationship back then.”

My eyes go wide. “Relationship?” I squeak.

“Well, duh.” He seems amused by my shock. “What’d you think this was, Y/n? An extended one night stand?”

I shake my head. “I...I, um...relationship? What kind of-”

He shrugs and leans against the wall he originally pushed me into. “Why we gotta label it? It’s...I mean, I like you. You like me. We like bein’ around each other. We like fuckin’ each other.”

“Oh, for a second I thought you might be saying something real,” I snap. Thought he might want something like he had with...never mind. “You’re right. Why label what I mean to you?”

He rolls his eyes and sighs. “You comin’ with me or not?” he asks.

I swallow and bite the edge of my tongue. “Yeah. I guess. Since you chased me off from Clayton.”

He licks his lips. “Full disclosure, babe...there was a vamp in Clayton. Benny. Benny was a vamp, but he really approached you just because he thought you were hot and he’s not bad. Dude’s practically vegan.”

My eyes go wide. “I was right? And you know him?”

“It’s a long story,” he says again. “I met him in Purgatory. He helped me stay alive, helped me get free. Like I said, he’s a good guy and he hasn’t been a danger since before he got sent to Purgatory, okay?”

I blink at him a few times. “You…”

“Look, he’s the whole reason I knew where to find you, so you should be thankin’ him for callin’ me.”

“Wh--how’d he even know who I was?” I ask.

“Recognized you from my description.”

“You talked about me? To a...some fang?”

He steps close to me again. “I missed you. So I talked about you. So he recognized you and he called me.” He bites his bottom lip and reaches out to touch my cheek again. “Label or not...you’re important to me. Benny knows that.”

I lick my lips. “Okay...I guess?”

“I’ll tell Sam we’re comin’.” He starts to walk away but he stops at the bathroom door. “Don’t tell Sam about Benny. Please. Not yet. He’s not...we’re still gettin’ our footing. Please.”

I nod and push off from the sink. “Guess he doesn’t need to know yet.”

“Awesome. Let’s get out of here.” He reaches out and I take his hand and he pulls me out of the bathroom.

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

The Kitchen Sink - @emoryhemsworth​ @flamencodiva​ @wasabiwitteks​ @rainbowkisses31​ @rissbennett @mariekoukie6661​ @officiallyunofficialperson​ @dolphincliffs​ @mrs-meghan-winchester​ @gayspacenerd​ @foxyjwls007​ @ilovefanfic86​ @marvelfansworld​ @f-yeahfandoms​ @wonderlandfandomkingdom​ @hhiggs​ @sev3nruby​  @hobby27​ @paintballkid711​ @divadinag​ @thewhiterabbit42​ @fantasymyth-1 @queenoftheunderdark​ @cosicas-cuquis​ @superfanficnatural​ @letsby​ @supernatural-bellawinchester​ @onethirstyunicorn​ @swinchester27​ @chalicia​ @sunnyroadtrips​ @screechingartisancashbailiff​ @death-unbecomes-you​ Hunter Tags - @atc74​ @sandlee44​ @spnbaby-67​ @kalesrebellion​ @tumbler-tidbits​ @hoboal87​ @stoneyggirl​ @kbl1313​ @cookiechipdough​ @mrswhozeewhatsis​ @winchesterxfamilybusiness​ @holylulusworld​ @pretty-fortune​ @screechingartisancashbailiff​ @we-are-all-a-bunch-of-idjits​ @imperiusimpala​ Gaga For Green Eyes Tags- @typicalweirdbookworm​ @deanmonandnegansbitch​ @jadesupernatural​ @stoneyggirl​ @4fareader​ @squirrelnotsam​ @lyarr24​ @akshi8278​ @pretty-fortune​ @we-are-all-a-bunch-of-idjits​

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99 Perspectives on a Single Love Story #19

A/N: The Story of Kurt and Blaine told through the eyes of everyone else but them. Each chapter is a different perspective in the ongoing tale of their love story.

I started something like this a while back - and now I’m taking the idea and really running with it. Each chapter is a ficlet of a different character at a different point in Kurt and Blaine’s life - documenting their love story. This starts in Audition, and each chapter will be paired with a different episode until reaching Dreams Come True.

[Ao3]

***

Sam Evans (Rumours) 

Sam takes in a deep breath before he rings the doorbell.  He had been picking up the deliveries that take him to the farthest parts of Lima in hopes that no one would notice him.  But it’s Friday night, and they’re swamped, and of course, Matt being the lazy ass that he is, won’t go farther than a mile away, so he’s left delivering to pretty much everyone.  Including an address he recognizes -- The Hummels.  

Kurt, of course, already knows about his situation -- just last week he had delivered to Dalton, but after everything that had been going on lately, everyone digging into his business, everyone making weird assumptions about him, he really doesn’t want to be near anyone from school.  Not helping is the strange sense that he’s being followed.  He rings the doorbell again, inspecting some bushes that might be moving as the door opens.  

“Sam!” Kurt cries as he opens the door.  Kurt is… well, Kurt’s weirdly happy to see him.  Or maybe just happy.  He’s got the goofiest grin on his face, and Sam isn’t quite sure how to react.  The short amount of time he did know Kurt before he left, he barely smiled.  And now he’s, maybe, radiating?  He’s also, uh, unkempt -- at least for Kurt.  Sam doesn’t usually notice these things, but he does know that Kurt is particular about his hair and his wardrobe.  Kurt’s hair is a mess and his shirt is half untucked.  

“Uh, hey, Kurt -- nice place,” Sam stammers as he sets the pizza on the end table.  

“Come in, don’t stand in the cold,” Kurt insists.  “Thank god you are here.  Oh my god, we are starving and I’m practically a beast when not fed properly.  Now, where is that money Dad left us?” He’s leafing through some mail on the table as Sam quietly waits.  

“So… pretty crazy today in class, right?” Sam says - just trying to fill the uncomfortable silence.  

Kurt freezes to give a stone-cold stare.  At first Sam thinks he’s done something wrong, but he quickly realizes that Kurt’s giving him his normal reaction glare.  “You would think after all the drama the glee club has been through over the years, that they would learn that it doesn’t matter and we should really be focusing on the music.  We’re going to New York -- and these people take one Sue Sylvester led newspaper cycle and everything is falling apart.  I mean, who cares if they think we’re dating…” 

“Wait, uh, what?” Sam’s brain starts to reel.  He knows people are thinking he and Quinn are getting back together.  And they’re not.  So not.  Though he would be lying if he hadn’t thought about it.  But Kurt?  Really? How many times has he got to tell people he’s not gay before they believe him.  

“Oh, god, Rachel practically had my head about it between classes today,” Kurt continues, giving the biggest eye-roll.  “And don’t worry - I deflected perfectly, no one knows about your secret -- my word is always the best.  But please.  Don’t get me wrong, Sam, you are adorable, but Blaine and I are ravishingly happy.” 

Sam’s brain is still processing the idea that Rachel thinks he’s dating Kurt.  “Why does she think that?” 

“She recognized the jacket I gave you,” Kurt explains.  “Which reminds me, do you need any other clothes?” 

Before Sam can answer, he sees Kurt’s boyfriend on the top of the stairs, pulling a white t-shirt over his head as he starts to descend the stairs.  Oh, god… Did he interrupt… He gets the image of Kurt kissing his boyfriend in his head and it’s… weird.  Well, no, it’s fine.  Like - Kurt can kiss whoever he wants, even if it is a dude, he’s cool with that.  Really, he is.   But, like, it’s Kurt.  Kissing people.  And that just seems weird.  Shit, why is he thinking about this?

“What’s taking you so long?” Blaine asks.  He comes up right behind Kurt, and wraps his arms around Kurt’s waist, placing his chin on Kurt’s shoulder.  

Kurt leans back into him, clearly enjoying it.  “I was telling Sam that Rachel thought he and I were dating, Kurt says, turning his head to face Blaine.  

“Well, that’s ridiculous.” 

“That’s what I said.” 

The two of them are doing that thing that couples do -- that Sam has seen his parents do -- where they talk to each other with just looks.  He’s not sure what they’re saying but he feels like he’s intruding on something more… private.  “You guys, I’m so sorry, I really didn’t mean to stop you from… whatever.” 

“What?” Kurt looks genuinely confused.  

Blaine grins, and speaks close into Kurt’s ear.  “He thinks we were having sex.” 

“Oh,” Kurt flushes deeply, becoming flustered. “No, we were just, uh, hanging out.  Blaine was just changing.” 

“Yeah, because you wanted me out of the blazer,” Blaine says, giving a kiss to Kurt’s cheek. 

“Blaine!” 

“You know, I really should go,” Sam says.  Seeing the two of them together - he guess it does make sense.  They are super into each other.  But the room is getting a little warm, and Sam more than anything wants to not be there anymore.  

“You sure you don’t need any more of my clothes?” Kurt offers again.  

“No, I’m fine…” Sam says, backing to leave.

“C’mon, Kurt, I’m hungry,” Blaine says, biting at Kurt’s ear.  

Kurt all but melts in Blaine’s arms.  “We should really feed you then.”  

“Well, then.”  

They’re doing that weird nonverbal thing with their eyes, which means it's Sam’s queue to get the hell outta there.   

They’re only looking at each other as Kurt grabs the pizza, and Blaine pulls him back to the stairs.  “Money’s on the table, Sam,” he calls as the two of them race to the second floor, pizza box in hand.  “See you on Monday.”  

Sam looks awkwardly around for a moment, grabs the two bills Kurt had unearthed on the table (score, does Kurt realize he gave, like, a one-hundred percent tip?), and leaves the house. As he walks back to his car, his brain mildly wonders if they’re going to eat first -- and then have sex, or the other way around.  And people think he’s hooking up with Kurt. He’s barely made it to third base with a girl, while Kurt is obviously getting some now.  Wild.  

[hermannsthumb]

"newt isn’t sleazy and is also too busy wrestling with the ethics of hitting on his hot TA if the guy is 5 months older than him to even notice" pleeeease write this

Anonymous asked: "When I Kissed the Teacher" AU ft professor newt and his hot 5-month-older TA hermann

and coincidentally, this older one

Anonymous asked: i just rewatched mamma mia 2 and was wondering if i could request a "when i kissed the teacher" newmann fic?? love your writing!!!!!!

Ask And Ye Shall Receive. sorry ive been MIA 😔 concept from this post I made earlier this month. idk what class newt teaches that hermann would be qualified to TA for but just like, decide for yourselves

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

Newt’s never been a list-making kind of guy, or--for that matter--even really a planning ahead kind of guy, but certain circumstances have thrown his life more out of wack than usual lately, and he kind of needs the stability the like of things like lists offer. Desperate times and everything. Or, at the very least, Newt is desperate. 

So Newt plans, and plots, and deliberates, and he even agonizes a little, but most of all, he makes a list.

On one half of the page, he writes pros. On the other, he writes cons. On top, he writes--what else?--Hermann.

The problem started in late August. Newt knew for months he was going to be assigned a teaching assistant come that semester--it was him, after all, who’d suggested it to the dean in the first place--but the Hermann Gottlieb of extensive, impressive, overachieving CV and overly-former cover letter was a far cry from Hermann Gottlieb in the flesh. Newt expected a dork, frankly. Someone too socially awkward to feel brave enough to thank someone for holding a door open for him. He expected a PhD student so eager to please he’d cater to Newt’s every whim, whether it was grading horrendous freshman lab reports or fetching him a sandwich from the commissary between class sections. 

They met for the first time at the campus coffee shop. Hermann was dressed in an oversized pair of slacks, a threadbare green sweatervest, and honest-to-God saddle shoes; the buttons of his Oxford were done up all the way, from the collar to the cuffs, and an ornate cane was settled against his thigh. His haircut was tragic. “Dr. Geiszler,” he said, all clipped and English, and held his hand out to Newt. “Hermann Gottlieb. It is a great pleasure to meet you. I’m an admirer of your work.”

"Sup,” Newt said, and tried to bump their fists together.

Newt knew he was in deep shit then. It wasn’t just because Hermann was gorgeous (which he was, in a sort of weird, frumpy, ripped-outta-1945 way), or that the scowl he proceeded to level Newt with made his soul wither and his heart race a little bit too fast, but both of those things in conjunction with a big one: Newt was, and is, so fucking love-starved. It’s an unfortunate byproduct of being made a professor when he was as young as he was and completing a PhD before he completed puberty. His early twenties should’ve been spent dyeing his hair terrible colors and adding to his already impressive tattoo collection and having questionable hookups with other young twentysomethings; unfortunately, the only young twentysomethings Newt ever seems to come across are his students, and he has a very strict code of ethics. Not to mention it wasn’t like he was getting any action before that as a weird, gangly teenager with peers several years his senior. He was bound to latch onto the first genius hottie who crossed his path who wasn’t trying to flirt their way into bumping that B- to a B+. And better yet, Hermann is five whole months his senior!

The shit only got deeper when the semester started. No, Hermann was not the sort to fetch Newt sandwiches, or coffee, or Aspirin from his office, nor was he the sort to handle the dreaded lab reports (at least not unless Newt handled them with him), and he definitely wasn’t eager to please. Newt, anyway. If anything the opposite was true: he seemed to actively derive enjoyment from undermining Newt at every turn.

“Wrong,” he’d mutter during class if Newt screwed something up in a lecture, or “No, Geiszler, you’re doing it wrong again,” or “How in the blazes did you get three bloody PhDs when you can’t even do simple addition?” and snatch Newt’s dry erase marker away to scrawl his own answers on the whiteboard. It was less like having a TA and more like having...well, a bitchy, annoying co-teacher. Or, God help Newt, a colleague. And boy, did he wave those five months over Newt’s head like a fucking flag. Newt was immature; inexperienced; clearly not as serious about his studies--his completed studies--as Hermann. Meanwhile Newt’s class (bright young twenty somethings, taller than Newt, cooler than Newt, with more friends than Newt) would giggle and snicker, and Hermann would look smug.

It drove Newt fucking batty.

It also made him, like, super turned on.

The two can co-exist. Apparently. Hermann Gottlieb is already helping Newt discover new and existing concepts; what a fucking excellent TA he is. Someone give that man a raise.

So Newt draws up a list, and he writes Pros, and he writes Cons, and he writes Hermann. The pros are regrettably easy to come up with, because Hermann is Hermann, and (bitchiness and undermining of Newt aside) it’s unfair how many he has. Hot. Stupid sexy accent. Stupidly smart. This is crossed out and replaced with so smart he makes me feel stupid (in a good way), because it seems like an important distinction. Glasses on chain. Mysterious. (In a tall, dark, and handsome way. Sort of. Average height--which is tall to Newt, pale, and handsome. He still scowls more than he talks, which makes him feel mysterious. In a Bronte sort of way. Newt can picture Hermann drawing a billowing cloak around his shoulders and stalking some desolate moor in the moonlight, though in this case maybe’s more of a puffy parka than a cloak.) In tiniest font of all is makes me laugh, because Hermann does, goddamn it, with his snide asides and cutting remarks and sarcasm, often not even directed at Newt when it’s just the two of them alone in Newt’s office at night.

The placement of “is my TA” on the chart is acting as a particular annoyance to Newt, entirely on account of the fact that he can think of several pros and cons for that as well, and he’s not sure whether to nestle it between dark eyelashes and once called me a moron in front of my class and I got a hard-on or beneath sweaters smell like sweat and mothballs, has annoying tic of clearing throat when lost in thought, and the dick wins 86% of our arguments. Sexy forbidden fling. Abuse of power. Is older than me so it's not as weird as it could be? I’m his boss. The school’s paying Hermann though, not Newt, and it’s not like he’s going to scurry off to the dean and demand Hermann’s funding slashed if Hermann turns him down (which he’d most likely do). But it still feels like a breach of ethics.

On the other hand, Hermann is exactly the sort of guy he’d try to pick up at a bar if he still did things like that. (Tenure, rather than giving Newt breathing space to kick back and relax a little, has only increased his obsession with his work, and now when he gets a Friday night free to himself he mostly switches crap on the TV and falls asleep with his cat on the couch.) It’s about the experience, the impossible task of seducing someone who--by all accounts--is too straight-laced and tight-buttoned to indulge in something that debase. They were always the best in bed. Tension, Newt knows, has to snap at some point.

He’d like to wrap Hermann’s personal piano wire around his thumb and bang away at the keys until it snaps, too. Ethics, Newt thinks (folding up the list and stuffing it out of sight), his ass.

Newt sacrifices a Friday night with his cat and Unsolved Mysteries in favor of working on a solution to his Hermann Problem. Swamped with work, he tells Hermann over the phone, it fucking sucks, dude, I could really use your help in my office, and Hermann grumbles, and snaps that Newt should learn to be better prepared for his own damn classes, but declares he’ll be on campus in half an hour and that Newt will be ordering him takeaway for dinner as an apology.

The door swings open at half past five. Hermann is bundled in that heavy parka and scarf (which, even for a Boston November, still looks a little too warm), and his hair is damp. “Is it raining?” Newt says, perhaps stupidly, because there’s not a single droplet of water anywhere else on Hermann’s body.

Hermann makes a face at him and pushes the door shut with his cane. “No,” he says, tersely.

“Then why...” Newt touches his own hair.

“I was taking a bloody bath,” Hermann snaps. “I don’t work on Fridays, as you well know, Newton.”

The use of his full first name stings Newt oddly even as the notion of Hermann luxuriating in a bathtub excites him. “That’s Dr. Geiszler,” Newt snaps back, because goddamn it, he’s Hermann’s boss, he deserves respect, and then mentally adds a small, depressing tally to the Cons half of the board. Ethics, ethics. 

“Oh, I’m terribly sorry, Dr. Geiszler,” Hermann says. He throws his scarf and coat viciously at the small couch in the corner of Newt’s office, then takes his usual seat across from Newt. “Well? Where are those papers it’s so crucial we grade?”

Hermann in a bathtub, Newt thinks. Hermann naked. Papers, Newt thinks. “Papers,” Newt says, and he shoves a stack at Hermann with twice as much force as he means to, causing several to flutter to the ground. “We need...to grade them,” he says. Hermann naked, in a bathtub, maybe some candles lit around him, some nice music on, daydreaming about that wretched professor he works for. Damn it. “I have a pen,” he says. “To grade.”

“What on earth are you saying?” Hermann says. “Be quiet. I can’t concentrate with your abominable prattling on.” Then he mumbles something that sounds like incessant, rips the top paper off the stack, and begins to slash at it in red ink. He doesn’t bother gathering the two from the ground.

Why did Newt invite him here, again?

Oh, right. He pushes his glasses up his nose and feigns casualness, pulling out another paper for himself to grade. “A bath,” he says. “Just to, uh, relax? Or...?”

Hermann narrows his eyes. “Or?”

Newt shrugs. “It’s Friday. Were you getting ready for a date or something?”

This time, Hermann’s mouth twists down into a frown. Almost suspicious. “Why do you care?” he says.

“I don’t,” Newt says quickly. “Just making small talk.” God, he could picture some stud of a computer science PhD candidate winning Hermann over with techno babble--or maybe one of his fellow students, ugh, maybe they made a study group together that meets Friday nights, and Hermann was getting all gussied up, goddamn handsome astrophysics grad students--

“I was relaxing,” Hermann says. “You must be aware at this point you cause me a great deal of stress, Dr. Geiszler, on a daily basis.”

“Oh,” Newt says.

He gives up on the small talk after that. Hermann’s promised takeout arrives--a small carton of pad thai--as does Newt’s--a large carton of the spiciest thing they had on the menu--and they eat in silence. They have about three-quarters of the papers to go when Hermann suddenly sits back in his seat with a groan and rubs at his eyes under his granny glasses. “Bugger,” he says. “I can’t fathom this one for the life of me. I’m too tired.”

“It’s getting kinda late,” Newt agrees. “Maybe we should--”

“It’s not that,” Hermann says. “I had a glass of wine earlier, and--oh, it doesn’t matter. Your students need to learn how to write in a way that’s actually bloody legible--it’s like chicken scratch.”

Newt hops up and leans over his shoulder, squinting down at the page. Hermann’s hair smells nice, like something floral, and his skin has a small hint of what could almost be cologne. Why is Hermann wearing cologne? “Okay, let me see it,” Newt says, struggling to keep from getting lightheaded at the close proximity to Hermann. “I’m used to that kind of shit.”

“No,” Hermann says, drawing the paper close to his chest. “I am perfectly capable of managing it on my own.”

“Dude,” Newt says, “let me look at it, seriously. Hermann--”

He manages to tug it away from him. The handwriting is pretty bad, but the math seems to be worse. “Didn’t they do the readings?” Newt mutters under his breath. “That’s not even the right equation for the diameter. I gave them a cheat sheet, man.” They’re junior year engineering students--they should know this shit.

“I know what the equation is,” Hermann snaps. “I can grade it on my own. Give it back.”

“I didn’t say you didn’t know,” Newt says, “I said this kid--”

“It’s the radius squared--”

“Hermann, dude,” Newt says, “I know you’re--”

And that’s when Hermann grabs him by his skinny tie and kisses him, hard. 

They stare at each other afterwards. Hermann’s eyes are as wide as saucers; his mouth is hanging open. Newt’s tie slips from his fingers, which then fall limp to his lap. “Holy shit,” Newt squeaks.

Hermann is gone with a swish of his parka and a loud clack of his cane. And with a stack of papers Newt still has to somehow get through. Figures.

Their next few classes together are subdued. Hermann doesn’t interject any of his biting commentary or corrections, or even offer critiques of Newt’s lack of professionalism (when in the past his skinny jeans were such an easy target), and when the period is over, he practically sprints from the classroom before he and Newt can be alone together for even a second. It’s fine by Newt. Whatever. Maybe Hermann can get over it over Thanksgiving break, and Newt can try to get over the memory of Hermann’s strong fingers tugging him down, Hermann’s floral shampoo, Hermann’s chapped, wide lips against his, the little grunt of shock Hermann made as he did it, like he couldn’t believe his own audacity...

It’s not likely.

It’s December, the last week before finals, and Newt’s in his office bundled up in a sweatshirt (because the heat never seems to fucking work in here), revising a draft of an exam, and dreading the thought of trudging home in the snow, when there’s suddenly a knock at his door. Anticipating some overeager freshman here outside of office hours, he doesn’t look up as he says “Come in.”

A familiar clearing of a throat.

Newt shoots straight up to his feet. He knocks a mug of coffee to the floor in the process. “Hermann,” he says. “Uh. Hi. What--what are you doing here?”

Hermann shuts the door behind him, then takes a careful step forward. He’s back in his big dumb coat and big long scarf. “I thought I ought to tell you myself first,” he says, primly. “I’ve submitted a request to the dean to be reassigned to another professor next semester. Our research interests are far more in line, and I don’t imagine our personalities shall clash as much.”

“Oh,” Newt says, pretending his heart isn't sinking in his chest like a hunk of lead. Was he that bad of a kisser? He feels like he deserves a second shot at it--he wasn’t ready last time, you know, he bets he’d really wow Hermann if he had a fair heads up. “Are.. are those the only reasons why?”

“No,” Hermann admits. “They’re not.”

He crosses the room, and corners Newt against his desk before Newt even realizes what’s happening. “They’re not,” he says again, then adds in a murmur (lifting one hand to brush his fingers against Newt’s hair), “Dr. Geiszler.”

Neither of them talk much, after that.