#I’m not gonna put this in the Dandy’s world tag. I’m gonna let them be innocent 😭

[moralocdfromhell]

The funniest fucking things make my moral OCD spiral. Have you guys seen that Dandy’s World game on roblox? I enjoyed it for a while and got into the fandom, played the game and stuff. I see a post on Pinterest about Dandy’s world that says “separate the art from the artist”. I go down a rabbit hole and find out that the co-creator is a groomer. Moral OCD freaks out and makes me think I’m an inherently bad person because I enjoyed something a groomer made (without knowing mind you).

I legitimately spiraled over a bendy and the ink machine ass game. I spiraled over something that has characters called Shrimpo and Goob 😭😭

[malfoysmaybank]

richie x reader where he pretends to hate her but actually doesn’t and the losers don’t know why he hates her but he’s actually in love with her

The Quarry - Richie Tozier x Fem!Reader

a/n: of course!! nobody died/ moved away in this and some street layouts were changed to help with plot details!! also, this is in she/her pronouns as of the request, but lmk if i need to make an alternate version with different pronouns for anyone!! enjoy, and ty to this anon who sent in requests for a bunch of underrated characters!!

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Finally, the last day of sophomore year. The Losers burst through the front entrance of Derry High School and headed towards the trash cans, like usual, to dump the contents of their school bags into the garbage. Y/N, the only other girl loser besides Bev, joined them as she had done since the 5th grade. 

------

Y/N had been brought to the group by Stan, the shyest but most friendly loser. The others had been suspicious of her at first, but she soon proved herself worthy of being a loser when she stood up to the Bowers Gang, who were making fun of the others.

Richie instantly liked Y/N. With her fiery personality and sarcastic humor that in ways rivaled his, how couldn’t he? They grew close fast, soon becoming best friends. They did everything together: homework, skating, they even killed Pennywise together when they were only 12. 

But in the 8th grade, he started pushing her away and blowing off plans with her, he never even told her why. They were obviously in the same friend group, so he couldn’t ignore her forever, so he went for the second best option: being a dick.

Now Y/N had very thick skin, but when he started hating her all of a sudden, she started to become very insecure and upset over him. Alas, she wasn’t about to let a man talk to her like that and not do anything. Eddie was the only one who knew how Y/N truly felt about how Richie treated her, having confided in him early on. But in the eyes of the other losers, Y/N didn’t give a shit what he said about her.

------

“Dude, why does she have to tag along for everything?” Richie groaned when he saw Y/N approach. “I don’t know, maybe cause these are my friends too? An odd concept to you, I know, since you think the world revolves around you.” She shot back and turned to the rest of the group. “What are you all doing tomorrow?” She asked. “I-I don’t know yet. I was thinking we sh-s-should go down to the quarry if everyone else is c-cool with that.” Bill said, still stuttering but only slightly, as he was growing out of it as he got older. 

The rest of the group agreed, including Richie, (surprising, considering he never agreed to anything if you did), and you made a plan to meet at the quarry with food at noon for a losers-only picnic. Y/N bid goodbye to her friends and walked back home.

------

“Bye, mom!” Y/N headed out of her house, backpack over her shoulder and bike in tow, to meet her friends at the quarry. As she neared the end of her street, she hopped on her bike and started riding down the sidewalk. “Yo Y/N, wait up!” She looked back to see Mike riding towards her, a couple of the others trailing behind. 

Mike, Ben, Stan, and Y/N all lived in the same area of Derry, while Bill, Beverly, Eddie, and Richie lived on the exact opposite side. Going anywhere usually meant each half of the group gathering and then meeting halfway. Speaking of the others...

------

“I still don’t understand why we can’t do anything without Y/N. She always makes everything so boring!” Richie complained as he walked to the quarry with the other 3 losers in his half. “Dude, you were just fine and dandy with her until the end of middle school when you started acting like she’s worthless!” Eddie argued back. 

“Look, I don’t know what the fuck has gotten into you, but you need to learn to at least deal with her, got it? She’s our friend and no matter what reason, you need to tolerate her because we love her.” Eddie gestured to Bill and Beverly who nodded, and then to Y/N and the other 3 losers approaching, who were all laughing at some dumb joke she said. I do too, he thought.

Richie’s heart skipped a beat and butterflies erupted in his stomach as he looked at you. Fuck, why does this always happen?! He suppressed the urge to hug you (why the fuck did he want to hug you for no reason?!) as he greeted the other three losers with a smile and wave. When she saw him smile, it was her turn to get butterflies in her stomach, as per usual. But forget it, she thinks. He hates you.

Y/N stripped down to her bathing suit and waited for the others to do the same. Richie subtly checked her out as he pulled his shirt off and turned to talk to Eddie and Bill. His muscles became more toned since last year, so Y/N was surprised when she saw him. She not-so-subtly checked him out as well. “Take a picture, it’ll last longer!” Richie calls behind him. “Could say the same to you, Tozier. I saw that, earlier!” Richie’s face flushed and he turned to Eddie again. That whole ‘jumping in the water with only undergarments on’ thing ended in 7th grade when everyone hit puberty, it just wasn’t going to work anymore (and for obvious reasons). 

Before anyone could battle her, she ran towards the edge of the cliff and jumped off. Her body hit the cold water and it felt amazing compared to the sweltering summer heat. She swam out of the way for the boys to follow and unsurprisingly, Richie was next. He was always the daredevil of the group. This was followed by Beverly, then Bill, Ben, Stan, and then Mike and Eddie at the same time.

After they all ate lunch, Y/N sat on the little shore on the edge of the water. She soon heard her name being called. “Y/N!! We’re playing chicken, get over here!” Beverly yelled. Y/N swam over and hoisted herself onto Bill’s shoulders. Beverly got onto Mike’s shoulders and the game started. Richie sat next to Stanley as he watched the game from the rocks. “You like her, don’t you?” Stan said gently. “What?! Of course not? Why would you even think that...” Richie wasn’t convincing him. “Whatever you say, my friend.” Stan said and patted him on the shoulder. Richie rolled his eyes and turned back to the game.

Y/N defeated Beverly for the second time and raised her arms in victory. That’s kinda cute, Richie thought. And he didn’t even second guess or correct himself this time. “We play the winner!” Stan yelled towards Bill and Y/N. “We do?” Richie whispered to him. “Yep, we do.” Stan replied and swam towards them. Richie soon followed suit. 

“Okay Richie, get on Stan’s shoulders. Whoever wins the most rounds out of 3 wins.” While Bill explained the game and all the rules, Y/N looked at Bev on the rocks. Bev gave her a wink and a thumbs up, whatever that was supposed to mean.

The game began and she tried her hardest to push Richie off of Stan’s shoulders. “Damn Stan, you got grip!” She laughed and Richie laughed too. Why was he being so friendly all of a sudden? She decided to talk to him about it later, she was having fun and she didn’t want to ruin it. 

Richie finally got her off of Bill’s shoulders and she tumbled into the water. She came back up and started laughing along with everyone else. “Y/N, we should clean that up real quick.” Eddie said and pointed to her elbow, which was scratched up. “Oh okay, that’s fine.” She said. “It must have happened when I was fighting Bev because it looks like it already started to heal up. I didn’t notice it at all.” She laughed and went up to the rocks to clean the small wound.

She grabbed the rubbing alcohol from Eddie’s backpack and started pouring some on the edge of a spare towel she brought. “Well, this is gonna hurt.” She said and hissed as she placed it on her elbow. She felt a hand rubbing her back and leaned her back onto the person’s chest, thinking it was Stanley, only to realize as she was reaching for the Neosporin and a bandaid that it was Richie. Since the other losers were maybe 10 feet away, she thought now would be a great time to confront him.

“What’s with you being all chill with me now? I thought you hated me.” She said and Richie sucked in a sharp breath. “Eddie talked to me earlier as about you. He said that I should ‘at least put up with you’ because you were part of the Losers Club and you deserve to be treated with respect because you’re their- our! Our friend.” He explained. Her heart sunk as she thought she realized what he meant.

“Oh, so you’re just being nice to me because you have to be?” She asked, dissapointed. “No no no!! Not at all, I’m genuinely sorry. To be honest... I don’t know why I was such a dick to you. I’m so sorry, Y/N. I should’ve had a mature conversation with you on why I was feeling so insecure and shit instead of ghosting you. Not only did it fuck up our friendship, but it fucked up any chances I had of being with you, as more than friends.” Wait, what did he just say? 

“It wasn’t cool and I feel so stupid knowing that I-” “Just shut up.” Y/N cut him off and placed her lips on his. He got over the shock fast, brought his hand up to hold her face, and kissed back. Their moment was cut short by Beverly. “Yeah Tozier, get some!!” She yelled and Y/N giggled as they pulled away and stood up. Richie laughed and flipped her off. 

“I know I’m not off scot-free, but does this mean you’ll at least give me a chance?” Richie asks hesitantly as they walk towards the other losers. Y/N put a finger to her chin and pretended to think. “Hmmm... okay. But only one. And we’ll be discussing boundaries and all that jazz tonight when I sneak you through my window and you stay the night.” She says with a serious tone and Richie nodded. He picked her up and spun her around. “Thank youuuuuuuu!” He sets her down and kisses her forehead, his lips lingering there for a moment. “Ewwww, do we have to deal with all your gross PDA now?” Ben and Mike say in sync and all the losers laugh. It’s not perfect, she thinks, but it’s pretty fucking close.

[septicbro1005]

Paint Me How You See Me

A/N: Okay, you have no idea how excited I was to see that I had permission to write this. I literally am so happy I could scream. Will I? Not out loud. This actually made me so excited that I got up and started walking around my room and smiling holy shit. Alright. Enough of that. I was inspired to write this story by a comic made by the fantastic @venadorosas​ and I just am so damn excited to write this! I am not an art student myself, but I will do my best to replicate it with what I know. I hope I do the comic justice! Just a few more things before this thing starts: I'm gonna do myself and make this a Quirkless AU as well as make Yuuei a university instead of a high school. This is unedited, so if there are sentences or misspellings, that is why, and I apologize. Anyway, let's get rolling!

Kirishima's POV

One stroke after the other.

Small, swift.

One stroke makes a world of a difference.

So don't… mess… up.

I only have one canvas left after this one, but I'm saving it for something important. Something special. Just need to figure out what.

I mean, yeah, I have others on back order, and Mr. Miyoshi is usually pretty cool with giving me some, but I still need to think about what to do with the 106 cm by 106 cm canvas.

A canvas that big needs something worth being put on there.

"Psst, Kiri--" "Shhhhhhhhhhhhhut," I hissed out through clenched teeth.

"You nee--" "I said shut,"

"B--" "No. Shut. Lemme finish,"

The person who proceeded to pester me, even after I told him to be quiet, was none other than Hanta Sero.

He was an art student, along with myself and several others I know by name.

One of which was Katsuki Bakugou.

And damn, was he confusing.

He was this aloof dude who talked to maybe two people by his own volition.

Some random girl who I see him talk to ever now and again. I think we've spoken twice? All I remember is she told me to call her Tsu.

And then me.

Sure, he'd talk to the professors and people like that, but if he didn't have to speak, he wouldn't.

Yet, he spoke to me.

Not only did he barely talk to people, but he also is probably one of the best looking people on campus.

I kid you not, the first time I saw this dude, I was totally sure I'd met Adonis in human form.

His ash blond hair was styled into a fluffy undercut that I would pay money for to be able to run my hands through, even once. His gauges and helix piercings gave him a bit of an edge, but that's what made him more alluring. He came into class one day, wearing a wife beater, which put a tattoo on full display, resting on his right shoulder.

It isn't just his looks that are attractive either. The way he holds himself, presents himself, just his whole aura is indescribable, to keep it brief.

And he was the person I was painting this for.

This wasn't his first commission. Not by a long shot. And this one was fairly simple as well. Still, I poured my heart and soul into it, just like every piece.

But with his commissions, I feel the need to work that much harder. To push myself that much farther. To make it perfect, in a word.

Now, I know that perfection is impossible, but I still want to achieve it.

I mean, if Bakugou could, I could too, right?

"Kirishima, I've been talking to you for the past couple of seconds and you haven't shushed me. Don't zone out on me right now, man,"

Sero's voice managed to pull me out of this trance, but only a bit.

The ash blond with the scarlet glare was still in the back of my mind.

"What?"

"You need lunch, man," Sero said, putting a hand on my shoulder.

"Listen, I thank you for your concern, but I had a protein shake maybe six hours ago. I'm dandy," I mumbled, doing a few more soft strokes before standing up. "Plus, I'm not even hungry," 

"Dunno what kind of protein shake you're drinking, but you still need sustenance. C'mon," Sero attempted to persuade me as I walked to the sink to clean the small brush.

"I'm cool, dude. I have a granola bar or two in my bag. I'll eat when I'm hungry," I chuckled lightly, turning on the water and cleaning the brush.

Sero sighed in defeat, as this marked the second week in a row where I substituted breakfast with a protein drink and lunch with a granola bar.

"Alright, fine. Make sure you eat dinner tonight, or Mr. Miyoshi is gonna kick you out again," Sero said, beginning to walk to the door.

"I know, I know,"

"I'll be off, then,"

"Peace out, dude,"

I heard the door to the studio shut, and it was just me in here.

Just me and the paint.

"Hey, Siri,"

My phone lit up, hearing its name.

"Play Rex Orange County on Spotify,"

As I began to finish up some touches on the snow covered forests surrounding a bright red cardinal, the song Uno filled my ears.

The song had no real relevance, but I love that song so much. I dunno if its just because it sounds so simple and sweet, but I just think the song's pretty great.

I'd say after maybe forty-five minutes of doing seemingly pointless touch-ups, I stood back, admiring my work.

Not much needed to be done, but I needed this to be phenomenal.

"I'll just use a simple varnish once everything is dry, then I can move it into the back," I muttered to myself, as if someone was there and I had to be quiet. "Can I finish it today? I could tell him where it is, and wait for the money to come in, I guess,"

A few seconds pause later, and I continued.

"Wow, great job, Eijirou. You sound like a dickwad who just wants money,"

A short sigh, a granola bar and maybe a half an hour or so later, everything seemed dry.

"Let's varnish this motherfucker, and I'll text him when that's done," I mumbled, going into the cabinets, looking for the varnish.

No other assignments at the moment… okay! Cool! I can probably head back to my dorm, chill there, and text Bakugou when it's done!

When I finally found it, I got to work on the varnish.

***

"And sent," I whispered as I approached the dormitories.

I just sent Bakugou a short text, telling him where to find it, how to send me the money (although he probably knows the process by heart at this point) and all that jazz.

My dorm building was in sight when my phone buzzed once.

It was a different buzzing pattern than all the others.

"Oh, Bakugou responded this quickly?" I thought aloud.

Opening my phone, I checked the message.

Sent the ¥321.7K 

My eyes widened at the number.

"I sure as hell didn't tell him to send me that much, what the hell?"

                                                   What!? The commission was only ¥48.2K?!

His response was immediate.

Left a tip.

Get yourself something nice.

"Whoa," I murmured.

Now, I knew Bakugou was on the higher end of the economic spectrum, but hot damn! 

He did usually give me more money than I told him to, but that fact that he gave me that much more this time just seemed to solidify the thought of him being rich.

So manly.

Heading into my dorm building, I looked to the elevators, only to see an out of order sign on them both.

"Are you kidding me?" I whispered. "Fine, guess I'm just gonna take the damn stairs,"

I got a notification, seeing the ¥321.7K was successfully put into my account, and I knew this commission was over.

But at this point, I knew what to expect from Bakugou. Next time I see him, he's gonna ask me about another one.

Not that I mind, not one damn bit. I'm cool with any excuse to talk to him, and I'm happy to please him with my art.

I just gotta brace myself for the next time I see him.

Trudging up the stairs, I began pondering what he would want next.

He seems to really like requesting animals, mainly birds such as crows and cardinals, but will he do something different? Ooh, maybe a peacock! Or maybe he'd want some other winged creature… like maybe an insect? Or possibly he'll switch it up on me.

As I ended up on the next staircase, I heard someone else's footsteps approaching.

Looking up, my eyes were met with a familiar scarlet pair of eyes.

"Oh, hey, Bakugou!" I said with a wave.

"Hey," he replied with a simple nod.

Fuck, he was just as gorgeous as always.

A grey turtleneck hugged his torso, with a black and white pinstripe button up on over it. The shirt was tucked into a pair of black jeans, a wallet chain dangling on his right side. A pair of black converse and a dog tag finished his look, alongside my composure.

"Thanks again for the great work," he said, his husky voice hypnotizing me further.

"You haven't already picked it up, have you?" I asked, cocking my head to the side. "I don't think I saw you walk past me to get to the parking lot,"

"Nah, but I know it's gonna look good," his compliment was accompanied by a smirk.

Short-lived, yes. But a smirk nonetheless.

"Aw, thanks dude! Always happy to make something for my best customer!" I felt myself beam at him. 

"See you around, Red," he said, continuing down the stairs.

"Bye," I waved with a small smile on my face as he disappeared down the stairs.

I quickly hauled ass up to my floor, speed walked to my door and slammed the keys in.

Gay panic in private, dude.

Opening the door, I pulled my key out and shut the door.

"I'm back, Omi!" I shouted into the apartment to see if my roommate was here.

"Hey," my roommate responded from his bed.

"Is it cool if I hop in the shower real quick?" I asked, jerking a thumb toward the bathroom.

"Sure thing. Keep it brief," Omi said, making me roll my eyes.

"Okay, dad," I sighed, but I gave a smile to show it was all in jest.

After locking myself in the bathroom and stripping myself down to absolutely nothing, I got in the shower and had a gay crisis.

Because that's the only place you can have those, y'know?

But a good ol' Panic! In The Shower was enough to calm my nerves.

As I stepped out of the bathroom to grab clothing, I heard Omi laughing.

"What?"

"That Bakugou guy really messes you up, huh?" his laughter was thrown in between words, but I knew exactly what he was referencing.

"If I'm being too loud, just knock on the door, dude! Tell me to shut it, I don't care," I flushed, looking at the ground, my hand tightening around the towel that hung on my waist.

Omi just kept laughing at me as I grabbed my clothes; a simple crimson riot shirt, boxers, black shorts and my wave socks.

It isn't like I'm going anywhere tonight, right?

…

Is what I originally thought until I was dressed and realized I left my motherfucking cardigan at the studio.

"Ugh, fuck," I groaned, rubbing a towel on my head.

"Left your cardigan again?"

"Perhaps," 

"You might as well just wrap it around your waist," Omi suggested.

"And risk getting paint on it?" I looked at Omi like he was a motherfucking psychopath. "Hell no. The cardigan was my grandmother's, so I ain't doing shit to it,"

"Clearly, if you're leaving it in the studio again," Omi mumbled.

"Shush!" I whined, grabbing my keys and slipping on my red sneakers. "I'll be back,"

"Okay,"

Leaving my dorm, I began going down the stairs when I ran into someone.

It was Bakugou, again.

And just when I thought my gay panic was over for the day.

"Oh, hey," I said as casually as possible.

Which probably sounded forces as fuck, because it felt like my heart was just about ready to implode.

"Red," Bakugou was looking me up and down.

I don't think I've ever felt more self-conscious about my appearance in my life.

"I've got another request, if it isn't too much,"

"O-oh, okay!" 

Why did I stutter?! That was so unmanly!

"So, what is it?"

I looked into his gorgeous eyes, trying to see further into him, but I was only met with his right hand slamming into the wall next to my head.

Oh shit, oh fuck. I'm gonna die. I'm gonna collapse, right here. Right now. I can't handle this.

"Uh, dude? You--" "Paint me how you see me, Kirishima,"

Uh, what?

I was stuck between saying "Got it," and "What?" so my dumbass just responded with this:

"Gweh?"

We sat there, in silence, staring at each other.

My face was flushing bright red, and I wanted to look away, but I didn't. I couldn't. His eyes just drew me in.

He moved his arm to his side, and began to head up the stairs.

Quick, say something coherent!

"O-on it!"

I swear, I saw him smile a bit before he was completely gone.

What was I doing again?

***

It's been around three weeks.

It's been three weeks of planning, sketching, and small, swift strokes.

And plenty of panic, but that's irrelevant. There was a bit of disco, so it balances out anyway.

Mr. Miyoshi did end up setting a curfew on me, to make sure I didn't pass out at the studio, but it wasn't set until it had already happened.

But, since I wanted to work on it after the curfew, I brought it to the dorm, keeping it on newspaper and buying the paint I needed.

I had the picture in my mind, which I did my best to replicate without him genuinely modelling for me.

It was a ¾ shot of his shirtless back, with him looking over his right shoulder, giving a perfect view of his side profile. I also made sure I replicated his tattoo to the best of my abilities, and I think it came out okay.

But that isn't all!

Monarch butterflies lined his back, as a fiery looking echo was placed slightly to the left. 

Those warm colors contrasted like hell, compared to the blues and navy of the background.

Just to fuck around with more color, flecks of brighter colors adorned the background, giving it sort of galaxy look.

I thought it looked gorgeous.

And not just because it's Bakugou.

You know how when you make something, and you worked so damn hard on it, and when it's done, you're just filled with pride?

This is one of those works for me.

"Omi!" I yelled about before cringing.

It's 01:35.

"Yeah?" 

Why the fuck does he sound like he's been awake?

"First of all, have you been awake this whole time? Second of all, could you grab me my phone?" I said a little quieter.

"It's done?" Omi asked, coming over with my phone.

"I'm happy with it," I said with a huge grin.

"Looks fantastic," Omi pat my shoulder before walking off.

Using my nose, I unlocked my phone and took a picture before putting my phone down.

I just looked at the painting, with Bakugou's slight pout catching my eyes.

I have absolutely zero clue what came over me, but I lifted my forefinger to my mouth, and pressed a small peck to it.

My forefinger rested against the painting's lips, and I just felt warm.

And that was probably the best feeling ever.

I gotta give this to him in person. It's about time I told him.

***

What floor are you on again?

                                                                                    Number two. Room 204.

Okay, I'm coming over.

I let out a shuddery breath, looking at the canvas, which I covered with a blanket.

I need to tell him.

It's time.

I kept opening my phone, making sure I had the song ready to play at the click of a button.

He needs to know.

A loud knock landed on my door, and I jumped.

I walked over to the door, playing the song as I opened it.

"Hey, Bakugou! Come in!"

The ash blond entered, wearing a button up and jeans again, just no turtleneck this time.

"So, I wanted to give this one to you in person… because I…" I was stumbling over my words.

Calm down, Eijirou. You got this.

"Because this could very well be the last commission you want from me,"

This made Bakugou's usual deadpan change ever so slightly. His left brow rose up as his head tilted to the side.

"And why might that be?"

"I…"

Fucking say it.

Spit it out.

"I like you," I barely got out before throwing my gaze at the ground. "I like you a lot. You're just so cool and collected, and from what I know about you, I like it. And I want to know more. I'm sorry if this makes you uncomfortable, but I just had to get that out," 

Before I even looked at him, I walked over to the painting, still looking at the ground, and pulled the blanket off.

Everything was silent, except for the music in the background. But even the song was at a quieter part than the rest of it.

I felt Bakugou's eyes on me and not the painting, which terrified me to no end.

Should I have even said anything?

"You don't have to pay if you don't want to or if you don't like it. And…" I took in a shaky breath, looking at the ground, lazily gesturing to the painting and then myself. "If you don't want to be friends anymore, if you even thought of us as friends, then you can ignore me,"

His footsteps were soft, but I knew they were coming. So when his black converse appeared in my vision, I looked off to the side as my vision blurred with tears that threatened to spill. 

A finger went under my chin, turning my face to him.

His eyes met mine, and he was smiling.

"You really are oblivious, huh?"

"Gweh?"

Fucking, again?

Bakugou laughed before leaning in a bit, his head turning to the left.

"Can I kiss you as a tip?"

My whole brain has short-circuited, but I turned my head to the right and leaned in closer.

My eyes slowly closed, and when his lips met mine, I was immediately thrown into a state of euphoria.

Holy shit, this is happening.

This is actually happening!

I couldn't help the smile that bloomed on my face as I draped my arms over his shoulders, and I couldn't stop laughing either.

It was so fucking amazing.

Small blazes of tears made tracks down my cheeks, but I didn't care. Unless my nose starts running, I'm not gonna let some tears mess up this kiss.

But, all good things must come to an end, as Bakugou pulled back.

His eyes were on mine, and for once, they were soft. A small grin was pasted on his features, his hands on my face.

"Why are you crying?" he asked as his thumb rubbed at my dampened cheek.

I just felt myself giggle in response. 

"Well, I was originally gonna cry because I thought you wouldn't be cool with my confession, but these tears quickly turned sweet," I just couldn't stop laughing. "Shit, I'm so happy,"

We just stood there for a few moments of content silence before Bakugou spoke up.

"So, how the hell am I supposed to bring this painting to my dorm?" 

"I can help you bring it up there!" I offered.

"I get to bring two masterpieces to my dorm? Great!" Bakugou oozed confidence as he said that.

"Dear christ," I began giggling again, since that was unexpected.

We grabbed the painting, and I made sure Bakugou was careful with it, but was also holding it properly.

"Hey, Omi! Could you get the door?"

"Sure,"

"Your roommate was here?" Bakugou asked.

"Well, it's his dorm too." I pointed out as Omi got the door for me. "Plus, it isn't like I wasn't so obviously crushing on you,"

"It really wasn't," Omi said, patting my back carefully. "But congratulations to the both of you,"

"Thanks, Omi,"

Bakugou just gave a small murmur to thank Omi.

"Alright, Bakugou, you go through the door first, then we can keep walking," I said, turning us so Bakugou could walk out the door properly.

"Okay,"

After a quick minute of maneuvering, we managed to get the painting up the stairs without damaging it.

"So you're which dorm?"

"302," Bakugou said as we got to his door.

"Coolio!" I grinned.

"Dork," Bakugou snickered at me. "How d'you want this to be put down?"

"We can just rest it against the wall," I said, propping the painting up on the wall.

"Give me a quick sec," Bakugou mumbled, unlocking the door.

He swung the door open and made sure it stayed open. 

"Alright,"

"At this point, I'm gonna follow you. You know where you wanna put this?" I asked him.

"Uhm… I think Misumi wouldn't mind if I placed this on his side of the room until I know exactly where to hang it," Bakugou said as we walked into the room.

***

My paintings were all on the wall. The snow surrounded cardinal, the murder of crows, all of them.

Except one.

The other paintings sort of made a frame, with a 106 cm x 106 cm square in the middle.

"Hey, honey?" I called out.

"What's up, Rourou?" Katsuki asked from the other room.

"Could you grab me the step ladder?"

"Shorty," I heard Katsuki laugh.

"I heard that, Katsu! You aren't as quiet as you think!"

"Says you, of all people!" Katsuki chuckled, coming on with the step ladder.

"Thank you, baby," I said, pecking his cheek.

"Of course. Putting up the last one?" He asked.

"Yep!" I said, grabbing the painting I made all those years back.

The monarch butterflies dotting his spine, his scarlet glare, gorgeous fluffy hair, all of it brought together, and hung up on our wall.

I got off the step ladder, and looked at the paintings. Every single one of them.

A hand snaked around my waist and pulled me in close.

"I love you so much, baby," Katsuki whispered, kissing my forehead.

"I love you too,"

His hand rubbed against my waist, but I could feel one thing that was inconsistent with the feeling of the rest of his hand.

A golden band sat on his left ring finger, practically identical to the one that sat on my left ring finger.

A/N: And that's all! Honestly, I'm very pleased with this, and think this came out well! I hope that those of you who see this like it too! I want to thank @venadorosas for allowing me to write a story based off of their comic and for making such fantastic art. If you like my writing, I'm also on Wattpad, so check me out there, if you're up for it. Same username and profile picture. I do believe that this is it! I apologize for the ending, as it feels a little odd to me, I just don't have any idea how to end it properly. I sincerely hope that I did the comic justice. Love y'all! Stay safe and healthy! - Septic

[minaminokyoko]

Peace Talks Reactions

Hey, Dresden Fandom. You guys may or may not be knee deep in Peace Talks, but if you are, I welcome you to the below reactions, in handy dandy bullet form. I would love to discuss the book if you’re interested, whether you reblog with comments or shoot me a chat. I just finished the book, so all spoilers are below the Read More tag. 

Woof. Well, at least it was something after six fucking years of waiting.

·         So before Butcher’s giant hiatus, we had this first chapter of Peace Talks already and I have to say I still feel like I felt six years ago: I don’t really know where he’s going with Thomas becoming a father. In terms of what that will do for him as a character. For Harry, it’s different. Harry keeps it close to the chest with his decisions, willing to die for the greater good in an instant, and becoming a father made him have to be more careful and thoughtful in his actions to be sure he can be there for his baby girl. I’m not sure where Butcher is going with this for Thomas, but I guess we’ll see.

·         I was pleased to find out Harry decided to stick with the protected apartment and is trying his best on Dad duty. Me gusta.

·         Right, let’s get to the first big elephant in the room: Ebenezar. Oh my fucking God. I want to punch his fucking lights out. My friend and I have argued about his reaction to seeing Thomas at the apartment already. I know Eb has Harry by a thousand years or more in experience, but it pisses me off that Eb can’t be bothered to learn more about Thomas. Nope. Just skip straight to irrational anger.  It was also disappointing to find out that Eb is not a part of Harry’s life as much as I thought he was in the past, so clearly he doesn’t understand how important Thomas is to him. I’m a bit miffed that Harry didn’t explain Thomas is his half-grandson to help him understand, but at the same time, Harry might be worried about what that revelation will do. Either way, it displays a massive lack of trust in Harry. To think Harry—who has survived all this fucking shit from the supernatural world so far—is just a pawn and he doesn’t know how incredibly dangerous the White Court is. Eb is downright disrespectful and insulting to his own grandson. I’m sorry, but I think he’s being an asshat in huge proportions by just thinking Harry is too stupid to know better and by not asking him why he feels loyal to Thomas.

·         In that same vein, Eb’s whole thing about wanting Harry to leave Maggie somewhere can kiss my ass. I’m with Harry on this one. It’s not that I don’t trust the foster care system and I think anything negative about adoption, either. Maggie is a target because she’s a Dresden. That’s it. There is nothing she can ever do about it. She is the daughter of Harry Dresden, Captain fuckin’ Disaster of the supernatural world. There is no place she can go where she will be safe and Harry is honestly her best shot at being watched over and protected, but not only that, if she’s gonna be in danger her whole life, she might as well be loved and cared for by her father too. Harry brings up such a good point about feeling abandoned and rejected and how Eb’s “protection” jag didn’t work for Margaret either. I know he wants what’s best for her, but I agree that Maggie has a better chance of surviving at Harry’s side than somewhere else. Hell’s bells, that’s how this whole fucking thing started anyway. Susan’s bitch ass hid the kid and it didn’t work. Sheesh.

·         And now the other elephant in the room: Murphy. I think part of me forgot how severe her injuries were. I had assumed months of PT and such would allow her to be mobile again, but then I read Chapter 5 and now I’m just angry and hurt. You don’t know what you’ve got ‘til it’s gone. You just don’t. I can’t help it. Murphy is my favorite, goddamn it. I’ve reread the books where she’s helping Harry the most because their dynamic is so phenomenal. They’re my OTP. She is one of the best written female characters I’ve ever known, so ripping her ability to be at Harry’s side away is so…2020. It’s just a nasty, horrible thing and it’s shot my excitement for this novel right in the foot. I didn’t realize how important it was to me that Murphy is Harry’s badass ace in the hole until I was told she’ll be lucky to walk again. I know things have to get worse for characters in order for them to grow, but fuck this so much. I am praying she gets a magical contract or healing or a wish or something so she’s back in action or I’m done.

·         With that same elephant, fuck Jim Butcher for skipping over the foreplay at the end of Chapter 5. Yes, I said it. Fuck him. I know he thinks it’s funny to frustrate us, but this is an act of betrayal of the highest order. Why? Because I’ve waited TWENTY FUCKING YEARS for Harry and Murphy to go canon, and what does he do the first time we, the audience, get to see them in a relationship? Cut to curtains fluttering. Fuck you. We deserved that foreplay scene. No, I will NOT use my fucking imagination, pun intended. I just paid you $15 to use YOUR imagination, Jim. You spent fifteen books building up the trust, love, loyalty, and sexual tension of these two characters. That’s countless words and countless pages. And now that they’re FINALLY together, nope, skip it. Skip what should have been something intimate and powerfully emotional. Ha-ha-fucking-ha. I hope you step on a Lego barefoot. I will try to have faith that Butcher will give us what we want—a canon version of Chapter 14 of Skin Game—but if he doesn’t, I’m gonna lose my fucking mind.

·         The thought of Mab and Lara Raith working together is utterly terrifying. No. Just no. Ugh, there are bad times ahead. I also thought it was kind of contrived that Lara is owed favors, which forces Harry to not be able to say no, and I think it’s a bit lazy on Jim’s part for this convenient block to be there and he can’t refuse the favors. It just felt like he didn’t want to put the energy into painting Harry into a corner this time, so here, a convenient favor. That being said, I cackled when Mab called him a bowl of porridge. That was legitimately hilarious. What a bitch.

·         Mm, Harry just called Murphy his girlfriend. I’ve waited twenty years for that alone. *happy sigh*

·         Oh, great. Someone sent Thomas to assassinate someone. I’m betting blackmail, whether he admits to it or not.

·         LOL @ Harry’s cursing policy with Maggie.

·         Harry. Don’t. Make. Promises. EVER.

·         I would not be the least bit surprised if this assassination attempt is Mab’s idea to cut off all of Harry’s allies but her so he will have no choice but to use her protection more often. Mab is a cold fuckin’ piece. Pun intended.

·         Harry, for real, do not square up with Ebenezar. You are a wolf, for sure, but that man is a werewolf by comparison.

·         I’m getting real tired of Ebenezar’s anti-vampire schtick. I get it. They’re bad. Now shut up.

·         This is so unfortunate: I’ve been missing Lara Raith just because she’s a hoot but with this whole favor thing and Harry and Murphy being fitted for chastity belts, I’m more tired than anything else.

·         Oh, neat, one of Gard’s sisters!

·         Of course Lara knows about Thomas being Ebenezar’s grandson. It’s Lara.

·         Oh, good, I’m sure whatever deal Harry just made with Molly isn’t stupid or reckless.

·         Yes, Sanya is a VERY weird man. That is an understatement, Butters.

·         Aha. I had a hunch it was River Shoulders and not the Genoskwa.

·         And oh good, the Genoskwa’s not dead. Yay. I hate you, Butcher.

·         Now there is a good tidbit of story for the series: that the reason everything is accelerating into bad news is we’re about to hit that 666 year mark that people are talking about, where the even worse shit hits. We’ve had small clues about Harry being starborn and this helps provide context for the shit that happens to him. I hope it’s not a Chosen One scenario, but it does explain why he’s been in so many scrapes and why he’s made it out of them so far. However, I tend to dislike destiny in most stories. It can get tedious. We’ll see what’s in store.

·         Ugh, and there it is, but I already knew Lara was gonna make poor Harry break Thomas out from the book trailer anyhow. Sigh.

·         Murphy calling the White Council useless is a fuckin’ mood and a half. I swear, they ain’t nothing but useless since these books first started. Harry hit the nail on the head earlier with Carlos and the Wardens, that they spend a lot of time talking at Harry but not listening. That’s been their entire M.O. from the start. They don’t listen to anything he has to say; they just insist they know better and that he should fall in line, not caring about what he has on said line, which is very often innocent lives. I love the hypocrisy of them preaching to him about making cold, rational decisions when it’s not their asses who have to deal with the consequences. Yes, there is fallout from what Harry does, but the opposition is always there and it doesn’t act solely based on what Harry Dresden does. I really fucking hate the Council at this point.

·         So we get a second of tender kissing in the tub and an “I love you” and then Butcher cuts away again. I am so over it. I don’t have enough energy to put towards how angry he’s making me right now and he doesn’t deserve it anyway. I cannot believe he spent all this time building this relationship up and then makes it canon and won’t touch it. Fuck you.

·         Murphy immediately spotting all three of Harry’s tails is life. God, I love my bad bitch.

·         I do like that Harry has been practicing his Veils. That’s smart. It also shows character development and wisdom that he’s recognizing how much more useful stealth is and that even though it’s hard for him, it’s worth the effort to learn. Good book boyfriend.

·         It’s still Murphy, bitch. Injured or not. My queen is a queen. Try her if you want, Freydis.

·         PFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFT MURPHY YOU POOR CATHOLIC DARLING COME HERE. That pass was hilariously unexpected in a book that hasn’t been all that funny so far. Thanks, Jim. That got a whole bunch of cackling out of me.

·         “I like your brother.” I just clapped and squealed. I mean, duh, of course Murphy likes Thomas, but this pleases me greatly to hear her say it aloud. Murph is tough and doesn’t like to say stuff like that out loud usually. I’m delighted.

·         For all my complaints, I appreciate Butcher bringing Murphy in to help Harry plan everything. She’s hella smart and experienced in matters where you need to get someone out without being all guns a-blazing. And it is an apology for her being benched halfway thru Skin Game, imo.

·         Oh, shit. Harry doesn’t know Molly’s the one who attacked Carlos. Ugh. I bet this is gonna explode in someone’s face.

·         And Harry just fucked up the rest of his friendship with Carlos, not know Molly already did the same thing. Greeeeeeeeeeeeeeat.

·         “You just went from a three to a six.” Jesus Christ, immortals are so savage, I swear. I laughed, tho. That was mean as hell.

·         I’m dying that Freydis wants a threesome with Harry and Murphy. I mean, who can blame her? Fuck, I want a threesome with Harry and Murphy, if I’m being totally honest here. The thirst is so fucking real.

·         Finally, someone made a joke about Harry and Murphy getting together.

·         Ah, this IS what I missed about Lara, though—she loves to fuck with Harry for the lolz and nothing other than the lolz. I mean, he’s such a peach. I would do the same thing.

·         Also, Jim, for God’s sake, make up your mind about vampires getting burned! I don’t get it. Thomas can touch Harry, and Harry is and always has been loved, so when do vampires get burned and when do they not? We’ve seen Harry touch Lara even when Susan was still alive and remember the kiss in White Night? MAKE UP YOUR GODDAMN MIND. I had a debate about this with another fan because it’s so goddamn inconsistent! If anyone being loved by anyone else burns them, then that would mean the entire world would be in the know about White Court vampires because they’d get burnt left and right touching people who are loved. I thought it only happens if they try to feed, not just touching each other. I think Jim needs to pay better attention to his own lore or finally spit out an explanation. We’ll see if he does later with that whole kiss thing from the book trailer, I guess. Argh! *Yosemite Sam curses*

·         I’m really starting to hate Harry’s condition and the fact that he didn’t stop to ask Eb what it is or how to stop it. Ugh.

·         Oh, good, and now everyone will think Harry and Lara are a couple. Convenient. Like they don’t already have constant trust issues. I’m sure Eb won’t block a gasket or anything.

·         Oh, yay, a Malcolm Dresden flashback! This is a delightful surprise. Like a lot of the fanbase, we’ve always wanted to know more about him. He seemed like a good man.

·         Yay! Vadderung to the rescue!

·         Okay, I do NOT like Murphy being alone with a starving Thomas and Lara. Not one little bit.

·         Ah, so the goddess Ethniu gets introduced in this book. That’s why Peace Talks got split and then Battle Ground popped out as the next book.

·         “You’re out of the White Council if you do this.” FUCK YOU, EBENEZAR. Jesus Christ, fuck you. All the Council has EVER done is use and abuse Harry Dresden. They have constantly blamed him for everything or forced him to fight their goddamn battles. You can shove it right up your old crusty ass for all I care. I am sick to death of this belief that they are just so righteous and trustworthy and good when they’re self-important douchebags who think that people are ants and can’t be bothered to protect them unless it directly benefits the Council.

·         I think I’m angriest because up until this point, Ebenezar has been mostly reasonable and it feels inorganic that Jim pushed him this hard. It’s just kind of exhausting because it feels like the plot needs Eb to lose his shit instead of it being something natural. I won’t be shocked if we find out he’s been compromised somehow, but I guess I’ll have to find out myself.

·         Murphy is right on the money. We thought we knew Eb, but we REALLY don’t. And that sucks. A lot. Especially since Harry has barely any family at all.

·         I can honestly tell why this book took Jim six years to write. It’s awful stagnant. It’s the exact same reason that the first draft of Of Fury and Fangs kicked my ass. I wrote the story in the first draft incorrectly, in a way, because all the characters were passive for the most part, and the other half of the problem was that I got halfway through this book and thought up an idea for a better book, but in order for the better book to happen, there were too many things I couldn’t ignore in this one, so I still had to finish it and make it good. Peace Talks, to me, feels like it’s obligatory to set up the next book, and maybe that’s why it feels lackluster to me. It’s a transitional book, which isn’t a bad thing, but it’s definitely in the bottom five of the entire series. Transitional books aren’t bad, but they aren’t good either. Most authors know that this tends to happen if you write a trilogy. All the really big, important shit tends to happen in the first and third book if you’re not careful. In this case, yeah, there’s stuff happening, but it’s largely passive. It’s kind of like why back in 2010 people were so hard on Iron Man 2—it spent all this time setting up shit for the MCU, which in the long run is a good thing, but that makes it weak when it tries to stand on its own. 

As it stands, Peace Talks is mediocre. Jim took way too many shortcuts. It felt rushed, ironically enough, because he was so busy moving pieces around to set up for Battle Ground that Peace Talks doesn’t really stand out as interesting or likable like the other books. I really understand why he got stuck and couldn’t write on it for six years. My two biggest beefs here are him pushing Ebenezar into the antagonist role and him completely fucking bailing on the Harry/Murphy relationship after sixteen books of waiting. I mean, yeah, fine, because everything in this book is just set up for Battle Ground, maybe then we’ll get more acknowledgment of the romance and the importance of the relationship, but as it stands, I’m dissatisfied with both aspects. This is part of why we didn’t want a hiatus. If you make us wait this long, inevitably, the result is not going to be up to par. There are VERY few things we as people have waited forever for that ended up living up to our expectations. I almost feel like all the fan theories and fanfiction was a better, more creative result than what actually happened in Peace Talks. That’s harsh, I know, but I’ve been reading the fan generated stuff for six years and that’s just how I feel. 

This is a mediocre novel that’s placing a LOT of weight on what’s to come, which is dangerous from a quality standpoint. It could be a lot worse. I was expecting a disaster. Instead, I got a disappointment. I can live with it, but only if Battle Ground makes up for it. If it doesn’t, then we’re all in a world of hurt.

I’ll take maybe a week or so and then consider if I want to do an actual review or not. We’ll see how I feel once I digest everything and talk it out with friends.

Overall Grade: 3 out of 5 stars

[daminwayne]

Hello it is me I am back with an angst one shot. Above is the ao3 link but I will also post the fic below the line.

Summary: Dick is diagnosed with cancer, and Damian has a hard time understanding the situation.

It was easier to assess your enemy when they stood before you, present in their physical form. You could gauge how big of a threat they were, study their strengths and weaknesses and finally, visualize your attack. When you can see your enemy, you can formulate a solid plan and follow through with it. Whether it succeeds or fails is dependent on how you carry out your attack; do you misplace your footing? Had you under or overestimated the threat? Either way, the damage would be external. Your enemy stood before you, visible, ready for the quarrel.

Damian had trained his entire life to take down his enemies.

He was agile, swift and light on his feet. He was strong and calculating, and though he was a child–– only ten years of age––he could defeat enemies twice his size if he acted accordingly.

This enemy, however?

This enemy was different.

Damian could not fight it, even if he tried. It was entirely out of his control.

He wanted nothing more than to take it out, to beat it, to end it, but––

How could he, when it was impossible?

Damian Wayne was a smart child. He had learnt far more than the majority of his children had had the opportunity of learning, whether it was with regards to battle or math or vocabulary.

But ultimately he was just that: a child. He could only learn so much of the world in those ten years.

So he stood by his father’s side, glancing around between him and the doctor who stood across from them. His words made no sense. He was talking about whatever he had found as though it were a common enemy, a dangerous thug he had found in the street. Honestly? Damian could barely understand what he was saying.

“I don’t understand,” he whispered, leaning into his father.

Bruce raised his eyebrows in surprise at the gesture, seeing as he and Damian hardly shared any physical touch, but then his expression fell into something akin to pity. He looked to the doctor then back to Damian, taking a sharp breath before he answered.

“He’s going to beat it, Damian.”

“Beat what?” Damian pressed, furrowing his eyebrows together. How could you beat something you could not see? Something that wasn’t living or fighting? Their words confused him.

“Mr. Wayne,” the doctor called out, giving him a sad smile.

Bruce nodded at him, and the doctor knelt down next to Damian. “Do you understand what cancer is, Damian?”

Damian shook his head.

He had heard of it––a disease of sorts––but had never received extensive learning regarding the subject. It was not one of his mother’s priorities, nor his father’s.

“It’s a disease where some of the cells in a person’s body decide to rebel a bit and go rogue,” the doctor said slowly. “They kinda do their own thing, instead of cooperating with the rest of the body, like they should. When that happens, they can disrupt a lot of things. They can affect body temperatures, organ function, energy levels… it basically throws the entire body off balance.”

“Like a bad team player?” Damian asked, trying to make sense of his words. “If someone goes out of position, he risks everyone else’s life because he ruined the plan.”

Bruce gave him an odd look, but Damian ignored it.

The doctor continued. “Exactly like that. They disrupt the plan, and when the others need them to have their back, they’re gone. Everything falls apart. That’s not to say it can’t be fixed, though. If you help them get back in time, everything can get back on track. They suffer a bit before everything is good and dandy again. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

Damian nodded.

“That’s what your brother Richard is going through right now. He’s gonna have to put up a fight, you know? He’s really gonna have to fight this guy. But he’s a strong young man, and he can definitely beat it. It won’t be easy, so he’ll definitely need your backup, yeah?”

“Richard is a very skilled man,” Damian said, lifting his chin in defiance. “He is very physically fit and used to be an acrobat. He worked with the police. He can beat anyone up.”

The doctor watched him for a moment, puzzled, before shaking his head. “This is gonna be different. He’s gonna change a bit, alright? This disease… it will affect his physical fitness. He won’t be as strong as before, not for a while.”

“I don’t understand,” Damian said again, feeling stupid. He could hear the words, he knew what they were saying to him but… He could simply not comprehend it. How could something just take down his brother like that? Illnesses were cured with medication. If you have a fever, you bring it down. If you get shot, you take the bullet out. They faced injuries every day in their line of work as vigilantes. But this was not an injury. Nothing had caused it.

“Why can’t you just medicate it?” He asked. “Like give him Tylenol or antibiotics. He wasn’t injured. Why does he have to stay at the hospital?”

“Damian,” Bruce said, his voice clipped. “That’s enough. So, Dr. Loving, what’s next? When can we take him home?”

Dr. Loving stood back up, clearing his throat. “We’re going to have run some more tests on him, Mr. Wayne, and then… I would like to get him started on the chemotherapy as soon as possible. Tomorrow, if I can. And I would like to keep him here for the first session to monitor his reaction.”

Bruce nodded. “Alright. Of course, whatever you think would be the best course of action. Can I––can we see him? It just… this all happened very suddenly. One moment I was speaking with him about work and the next he had crashed and… the last thing I expected to hear when I brought him here is that he…” his voice cracked. “Is this diagnosis.”

Dr. Loving lowered his gaze to the ground. “I know, and I’m very to sorry to have delivered these news to you. I’m happy you’ve brought him in, although I do wish he could have come in sooner for a checkup of the sort. You said he had not been exhibiting any odd symptoms before today?”

“He was feeling very faint,” Damian supplied. “I noticed when we went out on––when he took me out to ice cream and such a few times. He had reassured me that it was nothing, though. He took some ibuprofen as well because he was feverish for a short while. It was nothing severe. I don’t understand why you are making it sound as though Richard is dying.”

Bruce closed his eyes, clenching his jaw. “Dick will be fine, Damian.”

“I’m sure he will,” added the doctor. “You can see him before I send him down for a few more tests, if you would like. I will book a room for him in the inpatient unit, and see what I can do to kickstart his therapy.”

“Thank you, doctor. Please keep me updated.”

“I will.”

With that, Dr. Loving excused himself.

“Let’s go see Dick,” Bruce said, making his way down the long hospital hallway. Damian tagged along closely. “And Damian––this is not the time to play the public persona, alright? Just… Just keep to yourself, for now. Try not to say anything harsh in front of Dick.”

“Public persona? What do you mean, Father?”

“I know you’re a smart child,” Bruce began, keeping his eyes focused on the path before him, “and you understand what’s going on. The doctor knows what he’s doing, alright? You don’t have to take jabs at him and question his decisions. He will make sure Dick will be fine.”

Damian simply looked at his father in confusion, unsure of what he was referring to. When had Damian undermined the doctor’s decisions? He had simply been asking the questions on his mind. He was confused because he did not, in fact, understand the situation. Why was Father speaking to him in this way?

“I’m not,” he said in a small voice. “I was just asking him a few questions.”

Bruce only nodded briefly.

In that moment, Damian felt incredibly small and lost.

He was Damian Wayne, son of batman and grandson of Ra’s Al-Ghul. He was smart, determined, educated, hotheaded. He was––

He was scared, because he did not understand how Grayson could have gone from joking with him the one minute to collapsing on the floor the minute after. How he would not wake up and––and how his body shivered and trembled as he profusely sweat and––and how his temperature spiked and would not come down––

He did not understand how he was now bedridden, confined to stay in the hospital to ‘beat’ a disease and start a course of ‘therapy’ and––

No, Damian Wayne was many things, but he was not educated about this topic. About this situation. He did not know how to react.

He could do one thing, however, that he did best: act strong, no matter how he truly felt on the inside.

When they approached Dick in his hospital bed, Damian immediately noted that he was looking much better than before. His eyes were sunken, his hair was damp and pressed down to his forehead because of the sweat, but he was awake and stable. That’s what mattered.

“Grayson,” Damian greeted, rushing to his side. Bruce trailed in behind him. “You’re awake.”

Dick gave Damian a weak smile. “Hey, little D. Yeah, I’m awake. God, I don’t even know what happened there.” He looked up at Bruce, and his smile fell, replaced by a defeated expression. “The doctor told me everything.”

Bruce took a seat by his side, placing a hand over Dick’s. “You’ll be alright. I promise.”

“It’s gonna suck,” Dick said, shaking his head. “It’s really gonna suck, Bruce.”

“You’re ill,” Damian said, climbing over onto the small hospital bed. He snuck in close to Grayson. “But you’re not injured. So you don’t require any emergency surgeries, and none of your vital organs are injured. The doctors can medicate you. Advil can bring down your fevers, and I’m not sure what can stop the trembling. Maybe you need to be hydrated so you don’t pass out again.”

“Damian,” Bruce muttered, exhaustion lining his words. “That’s enough.”

Dick furrowed his eyebrows, looking between Damian and Bruce.

Damian looked at his father. “I’m just saying he will get better. He has no life threatening injuries, and he was not injected with any poison or drugs, so he will simply need some medication and then he can get back out of the hospital.”

“That’s not how the world works, Damian,” Bruce snapped, losing his cool. He gulped slowly, trying to regain his composure, and exhaled slowly. “I know you were taught that you just have to snap out of any illness and sickness, that you must bear through whatever injuries you acquire, but that’s not how the world works. There are serious illnesses that aren’t related to our––our work. Do you understand that? And just because you can’t see it doesn’t mean it’s not serious or that you can expect him to just snap out of it  like that.”

Damian stared at Bruce dumbly, unsure of how to respond.

Dick’s eyes softened in understanding.

“Hey, Dami,” he whispered, barely able to muster strength into his voice. “I’ll be fine. Maybe you can’t see this bad guy and fight him by hand, but there’s other ways we can fight him. My own body is fighting itself, that’s why I became so weak. I’m gonna need more than a few meds, little D. It’s gonna be a few months at least of treatment.”

“A few months?”

“Yeah. Chemotherapy basically attacks those cells that are going out of line. But to kill them, it’s gonna have to kill other healthy cells too. So I’m gonna feel a lot worse before I feel better.”

Damian’s eyes widened. “Why can’t they perform surgery or––or directly medicate it?”

“Because it’s in my blood cells, Dami, and it circulates through my whole body. It’s not in one place.”

“So it’s like a poison? Is there an antidote?”

“Damian,” Bruce snapped again. “Enough with the questions. Let Dick rest.”

“It’s okay, Bruce,” Dick said, reaching out to his brother with his other hand. “He doesn’t understand what’s going on. He can ask questions.”

Bruce’s expression fell, perhaps in a sudden realization that Damian was, in fact, asking genuine questions about the situation. That he was not playing stupid, but that he was just a child who could not comprehend why his older brother had collapsed without visible injury or an easy explanation.

He felt stupid.

His youngest child was lost––lost and scared––and… and he’d been snapping at him. He’d assumed the worst of him.

In all fairness, Damian wasn’t usually such a… child. He was usually a smartass who liked to show off how skilled and knowledgeable he was. He hardly acted like the child he was. In this moment, however, Bruce was reminded that his youngest had seen so little of the world. So, so little.

And now his oldest would be fighting cancer.

Bruce fought to keep it together. He could not collapse crying in front of his boys.

Alfred was back at the manor, and last Bruce had checked, Tim had joined him in the cave to work on some files while they waited for their return from the hospital. Bruce would have to break the news to them.

He was dreading that.

“It’s not like a poison,” Dick was saying to Damian. “This is a chronic thing. It’s strong, and it’s gonna need a strong therapy to combat it. But guess what? I’m also strong. I can handle both of them going at it inside my body.”

“Like a battle between your cells?”

“Yeah, exactly. I can’t really partake in it, you know, but… I can handle it. I’ll do my best to fight it.”

“Of course you will. You’re Grayson,” Damian said, his voice softer than Bruce had ever heard. “You’re my batman. You can’t lose to anything.”

Bruce could see the tears glistening in Dick’s eyes upon hearing that statement.

“Will I have to be nicer to Drake because you’re ill?” Damian continued.

Dick began to laugh out of surprise. “What?”

“You know, to keep you happy and stress free.”

“Well… Yes. Yeah, of course.”

“I will do that, then. I promise. I will also let you cuddle with Titus and Alfred the cat to boost your mood. And I will prepare for you a smoothie every morning to provide you with the proper nutrients. Although, I may need Alfred’s help. And maybe we can watch more movies after I return from school! And…”

Bruce closed his eyes as Damian’s voice faded into the background.

The upcoming months would be difficult, but they would support Dick through it.

He would not lose another son––not to anything.

[madiwritesthings]

Daughter of Anarchy. Chapter 1. Part 5.

3rd person’s POV.

Elizabeth and Jax pulled up at the clubhouse, Lizzie got off of her dad’s bike the second it was parked, the air around her dad right now was so tense and all she could think about was how she wanted to get away from it. In hindsight, Lizzie should have tried to talk to him, considering how lost she was feeling. Her mother in the hospital and her little brother on the verge of dying. It was a lot to take in for a 13 year old kid but her dad had enough issues and he didn’t to be dealing with hers. Lizzie threw a half smile to her dad before walking towards and into the clubhouse. She didn’t really think anyone would be awake or at least out in the clubhouse, she assumed they would shacking up with some croweater but she didn’t like thinking about that because it’s gross, so she was surprised to see Chibs sitting at the bar with Half-Sack. Both their heads snapped up at her, she really didn’t want to hear their sympathies about her mom because at this point, with Wendy, it’s nothing new.

“Hi Darlin.” Chibs said to her with a sympathetic look in his eye and on his face which Lizzie hated, she didn’t like sympathy, and to be honest it should be directed more at her dad than her, it was his son who was going to die.

“Hey Uncle Chibs.” She said, and nodding to Half-Sack as some sort of greeting, and made her way to her dad’s dorm room, when she opened the door she was hit smell of man, she couldn’t find any other way to describe it but that. It was also a mess but for tonight she could deal with it, she made a mental note to talk to her grandmother about staying with her instead of here, and thinking about it, she didn’t know why she just didn’t go with her gram in the first place. Taking a look at her dad’s dorm room made her regret that decision big time. Lizzie set down her bag and sat on her dad’s bed, she leaned her head back and just sighed. She really wasn’t in the mood to sleep and after everything that happened today she wasn’t sure she could if she wanted too. After about 5 minutes of peace, which was the only 5 minutes of peace she had gotten all day was interrupted by a knock on the door. 

“Come in” Lizzie sighed out, mentally preparing herself for a conversation with whoever was behind the door, the door opened and Chibs walked in.

“What?” Lizzie asked Chibs as he came in and sat next to her. 

“Just checkin’ on you Lass” Chibs said putting his hands up in mock way of defense. “Chill, I’m not gonna bite your head off” Lizzie said rolling her eyes “but anyway thanks for your concern, but I’m fine and dandy” Lizzie answers, Chibs looked at her, and gave her look that pretty much said“You’re lying, and I know you are, so start talking”, Lizzie didn’t like that look but she knew that there wasn’t anyway she was about to get out of this conversation. “My dad has just been you know distant, not really in the mood to talk, which I get and I don’t judge him for, he’s going though a lot too, but..” Lizzie stopped and let out a sigh. “But?” Chibs asked, egging her on to continue.

“It’s hard to explain, it just feels like he’s pulling away when I really need him most or we need each other most.” Lizzie said, she had no idea where that came from, Chibs just has a way of getting people to spill their hearts out to him, it was weird. Chibs was silent for a second and Lizzie thought for once in her life, she had finally been able to silence him, but her thoughts were interrupted when he started talking.

“Your dad loves you Darlin”, more than anything in this world, don’t ever doubt that” He said sternly. Lizzie gave him a sad smile but didn’t say anything, she really just wanted this conversation to be over, she guessed Chibs got the memo from her silence.

“Get some sleep sweetheart, we’ll talk more in the morning.” He said, leaned down and kissed her forehead and left the room, Lizzie decided to take his advice and try to sleep. She turned off the light and laid down, soon enough she was out like a light.

————————————————————————————————————————————————

“Hey, Kid.” was the first thing Lizzie heard when she woke up, and she realized she was also being shaken pretty hard.

“Yo, what the fuck?” Lizzie said as she opened her eyes and saw it was Tig.

“Ah look, sleeping beauty is awake, get up, Gemma is leavin for the hospital soon.” Tig said, Lizzie sat up and looked at Tig. “My dad here?” She asked, but she felt like she already knew the answer. 

“Nah, he left a little bit ago, but Gemma is leaving soon.” He said and left the room. Lizzie ran a hand through her hair, today was the day of Abel’s stomach surgery and she was more than nervous, she loved that kid so much already and she honestly believed she wouldn’t be able to handle if anything happened to him. After she was done getting ready she walked out of the dorm to see Sack, Chibs, Tig and Piney. 

“Mornin Darlin’” Piney greets her, Lizzie gives him a smile and nod, Tig walked over and handed her a cup of coffee that she knew for a fact he didn’t make because Tig can’t do shit on his own and made a mental note to thank Half-Sack later.

“Here, hopefully this will help with your bitchy attitude.” Tig said.

“And they say chivarly is dead.” Lizzie deadpans back, Tig just laughs and walks away to go do whatever the fuck Tig does. Lizzie walked away in search of her grandmother because she was the reason she was so rudely awoken. Lizzie made her way to the office, which was where Gemma mostly likely was, because she did spend most of her there, and surprise that’s exactly where she was.

“Hey Babe, you ready?” Gemma said as Lizzie entered her office, Lizzie nodded her head and set down her empty cup on Gemma’s desk. 

“Go wait in the car, I’ll be right there” she said, Lizzie sat her grandmother’s small car that always made her feel trapped. About 5 minutes later Gemma came out. 

“Luann is meeting us at the hospital.” Gemma said as she sat down in the car. 

“Okay.” Lizzie said, most of the car ride was silent, Gemma said a few things here and there but didn’t really try to start up a conversation. When they both arrive at the hospital, they go into the waiting area, they see Luann is already waiting for them. When she spots them, she rushes over and gives Lizzie a hug. 

“Hi Lizzie, how are you?” Luann says as she pulls away, leaving her hands on Lizzie’s shoulders.

“To be honest, I’ve been better.” Lizzie says, a little shocked. 

“I can only imagine.” Luann says and removes her hands from her shoulders. Lizzie, Gemma and Luann all sit and wait for the doctors to come out and update them on Abel.

——————————————————————————————————————

About an hour later, Dr. Knowles came out, they all stood up and walked over to her. 

“Abel’s stomach surgery went well, but it’s putting a strain on his system. Dr Namid doesn’t want to wait, thinks we should do the heart surgery now.” She said.

“Okay so what happens—“ Gemma starts but Tara interrupts her.

“A specialist is on his way from San Francisco, one of the best pediatric cardiovascular surgeons in the country. Soon as he gets here, we’ll begin the procedure on Abel’s heart.” Tara said.

“That’s good right?, that they aren’t waiting?” Lizzie asks, Tara looks at her and her eyes go soft from the previous “doctor eyes” as Lizzie calls them. 

“It’s the best choice, yes” Tara answers and gives Lizzie a smile. “Okay, Thank you.” Gemma says. After a beat of silence Tara turns to Gemma.

“Can we talk?” Tara asks. Gemma looks at Luann and Lizzie.

“We’ll be right here baby.” Luann says and leads Lizzie away, even though she didn’t really want to go, Lizzie shots Gemma a look that reminds Tara so much of Jax that she has to look away, when she looks back she notices Lizzie is now looking at her, and gives her a smile and walks away with Gemma. 

“What is it?” Gemma asks.

“Wendy’s in really bad shape, Can’t stop crying.” Tara says, Gemma rolls her eyes.

“And?” She asks.

“I was hoping you could talk to her, or at least let her see her daughter. Just let her know she’s not all alone.” Tara says, automatically assuming Gemma is the reason that Lizzie won’t see Wendy.

“Trust me, nothing I’m gonna say to that crank whore is gonna make her feel loved.” Gemma says.

“Forgot just how forthright you could be.” Tara says back sarcastically. 

“You forgot a lot of things, sweetheart.” Gemma says, she wasn’t going to stand there and let the doctor who left her son talk to her like that. 

“If you have a problem with assisting on Abel’s case, just say so.” Tara says completely done with Gemma. 

“You a good doctor?” Gemma asks.

“Yes” Tara answers quickly. 

“Then I don’t have a problem” Gemma says. 

“Okay.” Tara says and starts to walk away when Gemma pulls up her shirt, this draws Lizzie’s attention and she sees the crow on Tara’s back, she assumed she got that for her dad, because all old lady’s do. 

“Guess there are something you can’t change” Gemma says.

“I leave it there as reminder that all the shit is behind is me” Tara says.

“I forgot just how clever you can be” Gemma says.

“If you change your mind, Wendy’s in there” Tara walks away and goes down the hallway and Gemma comes back to Luann and Lizzie. 

“What was all that about?” Lizzie asks Gemma.

“Nothing baby, don’t worry about it” she answers. As she, Gemma and Luann walk away, she makes it one of her top priorities to have a private conversation with Dr. Knowles. 

———————————

Tag List: @oh-no-stenbrough

Authors Note: So I’m backkkk, I tried a new style of writing for the story hoping it works better because I really wanted to be able to give more detail and I also tried to expand the relationship between Lizzie and the guys, I hope you enjoyed this chapter, I might be able to post another one today but I’m not sure, I love you all and thank you for the support. 

[hobbitsetal]

Prodigal son s1e3 live blog, and we’re expanding the tag list! @thisbibliomaniac @loubuttons @emberslovesthearmadillo, and @jayykesley, onward into the world of dysfunction and murder!

These childhood flashbacks remind me of Psych, except they’re depressing.

“I’m coming back to you, to our children.” Broski, she does not want your murderous behind. Props to Jessica for severing ties, at least.

Heels that high look so amazingly uncomfortable.

Oh, she has a key to his place. I mean, obviously, she got in for the first episode.

He changed the locks. You go, Malcolm, you keep her out!!

...except for the part where he flings himself out the window with his night terrors. My gosh.

Oh, she knows he’s seeing his dad. Fabulous.

“My mental health is just fine.” It very very very much is not.

I have mixed feelings about his therapist. Hyperbole? Dude is having some horrific night terrors, ma’am, I don’t think it’s hyperbole. At least she recommends he stay away from his dad, one small thing we agree on.

He brought everybody lollipops. That is utterly precious.

White eyes on the corpse! Well that’s freaky.

Tanaka is also precious. I feel like she and Malcolm aren’t going to be a thing, but she’s very cute.

Note from the killer. Welp. Now I’m thinking of all the serial killers I’ve read about who left notes, like Son of Sam. Yeesh.

EW HIS HEAD PEELED OPEN AND HIS BRAIN IS GONE EW EW EWWWW.

“So cause of death is...no brain?” JT, you adorable boy.

Poor Tanaka, she’s so clearly attracted to Malcolm and his mental process and he’s so clearly not reciprocating.

“My, uh, dentist.” Malcolm, you are fooling exactly nobody.

Martin, please nope off this earth. Though okay, I’ll bite, how are brains and Elaine Brown connected?

“Here we go again with the blame game.” It’s not a GAME, you absolute sick walnut. You traumatized your kid.

He brought Dr. Brown’s book for an autograph. What an adorable nerd. Though “never meet your heroes” is probably gonna apply here.

Ooh, complicated family politics! Ainsley doesn’t know her dad and is helping her brother because of that. Jessica’s manipulations make it clear why she and Martin did so well till the murders...

Ahahaha, Malcolm just said “never meet your heroes.” Called it.

LSD experiments. Dandy. Dr. Brown clearly has no morals. And Dr. Mitchell is about to die. I had a feeling he wasn’t gonna last.

Oh wait, he’s not dead yet! Malcolm shouldn’t have untied him, this is about to be really bad.

“In large enough doses, it can mimic a psychotic break.” Oh rly now. Liiike the one their letter-writer was apparently having??

Oh geez, definitely thought Carl was a goner. Glad he didn’t decide to finish the job.

Tanaka is so stoked to say Malcolm was right. Nice.

So Dr. Brown knew she was putting her students in dangerous situations. And the fact she got a name immediately from Malcolm’s profile isn’t good.

“Dropped out due to doctoral pressures?” Get her, JT.

I don’t like Jessica talking to Gil. She needs to MIND her BUSINESS.

Oh, so Jessica let Malcolm see his dad in an attempt to cure his hero worship. And now she’s admitted she still wants to control him. What a wretched woman.

Hadn’t thought about the implications of Martin’s manipulations in relation to his wife, but the implied complicity is unsettling. He really is the absolute worst.

“Professor bad trip.” JT is my boy. I am also 500% down for stakeout bonding between Malcolm and JT. I’m also profoundly interested in their different perception of respect.

Asking Dr. Brown about himself is proooobably a bad idea and I’m starting to think she’s the bad guy.

Oh maybe not, she’s about to get hit by her killer. FRICK, the light just went out!! Yep okay she’s definitely not the bad guy. I’ve got to stop expecting double twist endings; this show is more interested in the psychological and how many ways Malcolm can almost-break than in psyching viewers. I respect that, honestly.

Glad JT realizes something is very wrong. Also Malcolm arming himself with the poker is classic. He needs to stay with Brown, though.

I was going to ask what IS it with Malcolm trying to talk down the killers, but the obvious point is that he identifies with the mentally ill. This dude is going to get himself killed.

Oh FRICK, I expected it to be JT who shot Render, not Brown! Yiiiikes yikes yikes she needs to put the gun down.

Malcolm still trying to gues what the J is for is fabulous.

And now Jessica has come to see her husband. UGH. “Burn in hell” seems an appropriate greeting, especially with his immediate flirting.

“What does any good father want? A relationship.” You are a horrible human being and you do not deserve this relationship.

“Malcolm’s gonna be just fine.” He is REALLY not fine. Martin needs to stop with the praise and the pity because he does not deserve anything.

okay, Jessica’s working a little hard to declare how much she hates him. “We had everything.” A’ight, I’ll give them points, this is as complex as anything else.

“You’re breaking him! He is nearly broken.” Okay, so we recognize Malcolm’s Not Okay. Witness the fact he’s about to huff chloroform to try to unlock his repressed memories. This boy needs somebody to look after him...

Jessica yelling at him for touching the chest confirms it: she was complicit. Doooon’t like that.

[keelywolfe]

FIC: Reaction Shots, ch.3 (baon)

Summary:   Still in the aftermath of the events of ‘Any Other Tuesday’.

Notes: Time for another POV! This time we are looking from Red’s POV. Yeah, good luck with that. Lookout for the kustard in this one!

Tags: Spicyhoney, Original Undertale Characters, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Prejudice Against Monsters, Violence, Injury, Prejudice from Police Officers, LV issues, Kustard

part of the ‘by any other name’ series.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

~~*~~

Read Chapter 3 on AO3

or

Read it here!

~~*~~

Red

No one could’ve dragged it out of him, not even with pliers, but Red was exhausted and that was a fact.

Didn’t matter, not a fucking jot or tittle. Not like it was the first time he’d gone without sleep. Once this shit was finished, he’d go down but until then? He’d learned years ago how to use his magic to shore him up when he was flagging. Both he and the idiot twins had magic in spades, and if those two never bothered to figure out how to use it right, well, Red wasn’t interested in demonstrating. He had a handle on this.

After he returned the Blueberry’s car, keys left in the ignition for him to bitch about later, Red stopped back at his place for a coupla things. He made a point of walking, even if he was bitchin’ tired. Shortcuts ate up magic and he needed all he could spare. He already had another car lined up to borrow, that was next on his list.

Turned out that choosing not to teleport was a mistake, but what could you do? His hindsight had always needed glasses.

“so where do you think you’re off to?”

Red stopped, briefly closing his sockets. Sans hadn’t asked permission before coming into his house for a couple months now, not since their little spat.

Spat, yeah, that was a good name for it. More like someone forcing a choice that he hadn’t wanted to make, but Sans…well, Sans was a fucking asshole.

The real problem was that Red had a thing for assholes, hell, he’d mostly raised one. Assholes were handy dandy, so long as they were facing the other way.

Red didn’t need any fucking liabilities, thanks. It was enough of a pain in the ass to look after Edge’s and no matter what Sans said, trying to play it off like it wasn’t like that, didn’t change anything, did it.

That smirking asshole was his own personal albatross and now Red got to lug him around. The bitch of it was, that sometimes? He didn’t even mind.

Today was not one of those fucking times.

He turned, taking in Sans’s lazy sprawl on his sofa, for all the world like he was on the Titanic just waiting to strip off so someone could draw his nudey shot. But see, Red knew better than to believe that shit. Those pale eye lights didn’t miss much, Sans was a shit and an asshole, but he was on the ball.

Where was he off to? Please, like they both didn’t know where he was headed and what he had planned. Sans might not that the details but he knew, same way he knew that Red’s soul was cobwebbed with cracks, LV or no. He saw, like Stretch did. Like Red did.

They always knew too much when they wanted to; only difference was that lately, Stretch didn’t go looking very often. That was honestly okay by Red, kept him out of trouble.

But Sans knew, of course he fucking knew. Only question was whether or not he was gonna let Red play it off. “aw, you worryin’ about me, sweets? i’m heading in to work is all.”

“you can’t kill them.”

Welp, that was a pretty clear no. Red sighed and made a mental note to delete all of his living room recordings. They were locked down with triple redundancies, but no such thing as too careful, now was there.

“can’t?” Red said, lightly. “thought we were pretty clear last time about my cans and can’ts.”

That was the deal they’d settled on with pinkie swears and spitting in palms, the works. They could fuck exclusively, no outside players, and Sans didn’t have to keep it a secret anymore so long as he didn’t hire a sky writer or some shit. But that was it, there was none of that telling each other what to do bullshit, no fuzzy bunnies and matching outfits.

Well. Not more than they already matched, anyway.

Sans didn’t look particularly moved by that, and yeah, none of ‘em liked to break a promise. Didn’t mean they wouldn’t squeeze around it if they could find some wiggle room. “i get the urge, but you gotta let this one play out. last time, i get it. he was threatening a lotta people, that game needed called. these assholes though? it was just a few drunk guys pulling stupid shit.”

“stupid shit?” Red said, low. “that what we’re callin’ attempted murder these days?”

He looked hard at Sans, at that face, similar and yet not to his own. “it wasn’t just a coupla drunk guys, those fuckers aren't even from ebott. they came in from out of town special for this, all ready for dinner and a show. they were lookin’ for a couple of monsters to fuck over.”

Sans didn’t so much as flinch and yeah, that was how Red ended up in his pants to begin with. Stupid fucker, almost suicidal tendencies, really, ‘cause he didn’t get involved until he did, and when Sans was in, you better believe it was for 110%.

“yeah, and you need to stop planning some of your own stupid shit right now,” Sans said, cool as a drink of water. “they need to go to court. it’s shitty, but we need this publicity. i don’t want to wait for someone to get dusted before they actually make attacking monsters a real hate crime, with real consequences.”

“they would have killed stretch. they almost killed andy.”

That was the flat fucking truth of it, didn’t even get into the rest of the trouble it caused. He’d seen the cell phone footage, all of it. None of ‘em had a clear shot of Stretch healing Andy and the ones that came dangerously close were taken care of before they even hit YouTube. That had been the important part, making sure no one with an agenda and any mad scientist tendencies in ‘em got their hands on it…or on Stretch.

They’d all had their fill of that kind of shit, thanks, and the buffet was closed.

“would have. almost. didn’t. you can’t fix this that way. not yet.”

And wasn’t it chuckilicious that Sans was right? Because he was, Red knew he was. Antwan has been busting his balls for months on proposals for the criminality on hate crimes against Monsters, being that it was a fuckton more dangerous than a lil’ human on human action. Humans bled, Monsters died, and that was a fact. This was almost a fucked up blessing in disguise, really, but—

—that wobbly cell phone footage. The kid laying there, bleeding on the ground, the shock on his face, on Antwan’s face, and his bro, the cold fury in his sockets and he had it covered, he did, might have killed those fuckers right there if Stretch hadn't said something and he had LV, would always have LV, he protected what was his, shouldn’t have to but he did, and so did Red…

Sans only sat there like he was waiting on some tea and fucking scones. No pity on that face, no sympathy, only maybe a shred of understanding, but Red got the picture in crystal-clear HD. Sans wasn’t going to let him do anything; he’d put in the effort this time to stop him, and that…would not end well.

It took Red a sec to sort through his internal sarcasm files but in the end, he settled on grudging honesty. “i can’t just sit here.”

Neither of them had the capacity to not smile, but wasn’t nothing stopping their smirks from widening and Sansy’s did. “well, see, i knew that, dollface. why do you think i’m here?”

The way he licked his teeth made a lotta dirty promises and wet dreams seem like a possible raunchy reality.

Wellie, well well. Sans was a shit and an asshole, but he wasn’t half-bad as a distraction, too.

Beneath that bulky hoodie were sleek bones, not quite as stocky as his own, Sans wasn’t a battle-ready model. He was more delicate, more fragile. Almost pretty.

Fucking liabilities.

And as Red pushed Sans down on the sofa, most of his thoughts were on those bones and that mouth doing a damn fine Hoover impression. But there was a dark corner set aside, in the same place that Stretch kept his math brain and Sans kept his tech one. Red’s quirk was planning, yeah, and that never turned off.

All right, so he couldn’t kill them. But what no one could see wasn’t gonna be a problem. A little pain tended to build character and Red was in the mood for a little karmic retribution.

-finis-

[21st-century-daydreamer]

This Stupid Little Thing Called Life. (Prologue)

Summary: 6 teenagers got kidnapped while on a trip across Europe. The reader finds out that it’s not just a usual kidnapping. That the world is not what she thought it was. The mundane girl got swept into the world S.H.I.E.L.D and H.Y.D.R.A.

Word Count: 1,851

Warnings: Nothing yet...Maybe violence?

Pairing: Eventual Steve Rogers x Reader, Bucky Barnes x Reader, OC x Reader, Avengers x platonic!Reader

if you wanna be tagged on the next part please message me here.

Part 1

Salut=Hello

2007

“Everything is packed and ready right?” I asked as I paced around the baggage.

“Okay... everything is fine and dandy alright...relax,” Felicity said while putting her arms around my shoulder. 

“I can’t believe we’re on vacation across Europe!”  Britney shrieks.

“I know... you’ve said that a week ago when we landed in Athens.” I giggled. I looked around searching for Lizzy. “Where is Liz?” I asked around.

“I think she’s in the bathroom,” David said. I walked over to the bathroom door and knocked “Liz? We need to check out in like 10 minute. You gotta hurry!”

“Yep.” I heard a reply.

“hey sit down for a bit. I assure you we’re not gonna miss our train.” Noah said.

The six of us decided that it would be a great idea to go backpacking across Europe after our high school graduation before we go our separate way to college. We started our journey from Athene, Greece. Well at first I thought they really wanna go backpacking the whole way until Brit can’t take the dingy sketchy motel anymore. And decided to check us in a three-star hotel in Bucharest. In an hour our train will leave for Paris. 

“Let’s go!” I heard a flush from a bathroom and started to descend to the lobby.

“Salut, how can I help you?” The receptionist greets me.

“Salut I’m here to check out from our room.” she took my cards and type something into the computer. As I was waiting, a man walked up to the receptionist. I gave him a polite smile, and he said “vacation?” he looked like a typical dude, black pants and a black top with a brown jacket.

“yeah” I replied. 

“Where are you going next?” he said with a thick accent.

“Paris.” I smiled. “Long way huh?” he smiled.

“yeah...”

“You are all done, miss. Have a nice trip.” Sophia the receptionist gave me a polite smile and proceed to the guy next to me. “Thank you.” I gave the guy a smile and left. I walked over to the group and Britney immediately asked about the guy at the reception. “Who is the hottie that chats you up?”

“No one Brit, I didn’t even ask his name.”

“If you need like 15 minutes in the bathroom with him, we have time...” she smirked. “He’s still checking you out.” I turned around and saw him gave me a smile. “No, he just asked me where I’m going next, that’s it.” 

“You tell him you’re checking out?” Brit asked her brow furrowed in confusion.

“No...” hmm that’s weird, how would he know that I was checking out. He definitely didn’t see me handing her the card, he wasn’t there yet. 

“Lucky guess, maybe? Come on we need to go.” and with that, we left to the train station.

As soon as we got inside the train and put our belonging on the compartment above us, I prepare everything for the 15-hour train ride. I put on my neck pillow and open my book. But as soon as I finished the first paragraph Brit who was sitting next to me grabbed the book. “The Education of a Coroner: Lessons in Investigating Death. Really? Can you be more normal? Bitch, we’re stuck in this moving metal box for 15 hours, and you are not gonna spend it buried in your books. Listen I brought face mask, we can do face masks together. And paint my nails, you brought the nail polish right?” she said as she pulled out the face mask.

“Brit painting your nail in a moving and shaky place is not a good idea.” I took off my neck pillow and set it aside.

“I trust that artistic hand of yours, (y/n/n)”

After hours of chatting, I realized that everyone that boarded the train has left on the last station. “We’re the only one here in this car.” Noah pointed out. 

“Yeah if it was any other day, I’d do something crazy. But I’m exhausted.” David replied with his sleeping mask still on. Felicity and Liz who sat beside each other have passed out like hours ago. We got 11 hours more to go. I looked over Brit that has passed out next to me. That was quick for her to fall asleep I thought. Suddenly this wave of exhaustion and sleepiness came out of nowhere and hit me. “Night guys.” I closed my eyes and fell into a deep slumber.

When I woke up it was still dark outside. I looked at my watch and realized that I have only been sleeping for 3 hours. Noah and David were just starting to wake up from their deep sleep. My stomach grumbled and suddenly I felt really thirsty. That’s really weird considering 5 minutes before I fell asleep I had a pretty big meal. I turned to Noah asking him whether he wanted to go to the food car with me, but Noah seemed to still be pretty out of it. So I walked up towards the car door passing through the deserted isle of the train, for some reason it felt really eerie.

I opened the door but it won’t budge. I can see through the door window to the food car, I waved my hand towards the server that was standing in front of a counter to get his attention. After a couple waves, he turned towards my direction but he didn’t even acknowledge me. I waved more erratically and he didn’t even budge. Behind him, there was a guy in a blue shirt picking up his coffee from the counter after a couple seconds he did the same thing again. I stood there baffled watching the whole ordeal. After the 10th coffee and 10th head turn from the server, I realized something was wrong. 

“Guys I think something is not right” I called out to them.

“Every situation is always problematic for your paranoid ass,” Felicity replied with an annoyed tone.

“No seriously, the door is locked. I’ve been waving to that server over there for the past 5 minutes!” I started to panic.

“Maybe he didn’t see you?” Liz chimed in.

“Seriously I’m not kidding you guys...Something is definitely wrong.”

“Have you seen my phone anywhere?” Brit asked. From her tone, I assume she just woke up. “Drop call it, please anyone. I can’t find it anywhere.” Everyone started to look around for their phones. “I can’t find mine either,” David said. No one could find their phones. “Have we been robbed?”

“That’s unlikely Liz, my wallet is still on my lap. And our bag is still in the compartment.” Noah stood up and walked towards me.

I panicked and looked around other windows. It was pitch black.

Noah looked at the door window and I explained to them what is going on. He tilted his head to the side. “Y/n I want you to not panic, but I think this is a screen.” he brought his fingers to my chin and tilted my head to the side. I saw it, the little dot’s that you usually see if you put your face close enough to a tv.

WHAT THE HELL

I ran to my bag and retrieve my handy dandy flashlight. “What are you doing?” Noah asked me. I turned it on and face it towards the pitch black window and the light bounce back. “What does it mean?” Brit asked, her voice is shaking. 

“If this is a real window the light would go through it and we can see something outside. This is not a window.” 

“Wait I don’t understand... does this mean that we are in danger?” Liz said.

“I don-” Suddenly the shaking of the train stopped and we can’t hear the engine anymore, it’s like the train stopped moving. The screen on the door turned black. It’s insanely quiet.

“Guys, what’s going on?” Brit started crying.

“Take anything to protect yourself with,” I told them.

“Why? You’re so paranoid it’s not like people are gonna come in here and atta-”

“SHUT UP!! THIS IS NOT HER PARANOIA ANYMORE THIS SHIT IS REAL!” Brit screamed at her face. 

Suddenly the door started sliding open. So as the one behind us.

There were men, armed men with guns. Dozens of them on the door behind us. Same with the one in front of us but there was an old guy with a lab coat standing in front of them. 

“No one moves,” I told them.

“Welcome...You’ve come a long way.” The guy with the lab coat said. I heard there was a couple sob behind me, I’m guessing it was the three girls I’m with.

“You are not Paris’s welcome wagon, are you? Cause it’s pretty depressing for Paris.”

“Y/n Y/l/n, always with the sarcasm. I’m Doctor Ba-”

“I don’t care. What is this? What do you want?”

He smiled “We want you.” He motioned his men to take us. We do as our instinct says. I started to hit them with my flashlight, use the things I know about hand to hand combat from a survival class that my dad told me to get. I jabbed one of the guards in the neck. He didn’t shoot me so I thought they needed us alive. I continue to kick the second guard on his shin, and then I heard two gunshots from behind me and a deafening scream. I turned around and saw that Felicity and David lying on the floor blood seeping through their clothes. My adrenalin went crazy all I see is red, I started attacking every guard in front of me, knowing that they’re gonna either shoot me or overpower me.

“Don’t shoot her.” I heard doctor asshole’s voice.

One of the guards kicked me in the back of the knees and I tumbled down to the floor. He cuffed my hand on my back. 

“Stand up!” He dragged me towards the doctor. He was holding some type of syringe with a green liquid inside of it. “What is that?” he ignored me and injected whatever it was into my neck. It burned. I screamed and kicked everywhere. He brought me outside. It looked like a huge warehouse the only thing that I realized was the train was a simulation. I heard more screams they got it too I thought to myself. The guard pushed open a large door. I couldn’t really see what’s around me, it’s hard to focus when you feel like your body is on fire. I tried to take in as much information as I can. There were computers and other things around me. It looked dirty and things are clustered everywhere. He turned right towards a small hallway and stopped at another metal door. He opened it and there were cells lining up the wall. He threw me in one, it’s all concrete. He opened my cuffs but it’s too painful to do anything. He shackled both my arms and legs. I realized that they’re separating us, I grabbed his kevlar and saw one symbol an octopus with a skull for the head.

[oorumaiito]

WOWIE, A WHOLE YEAR!!

// ok, so, i’m not doing anything super special for my first year anniversary with this blog. kinda boring, i know. but i am gonna write this to express my appreciation. under the cut is some mushy-ass stuff, so you don’t have to read it, but you can. you can also reblog this, if i tagged you, or if you just. wanna celebrate with me with these party poppers here.

// tws for: animal death, divorce.

// sooooo on October 14, 2017, i established my original A.ll M.ight blog in a dire time of need. my stepfather had abandoned my family the day after my birthday, leaving my mother, my brother, our pets, and myself behind. i’d already been going through a lot; my transition, my semi-shitty birthday, my bad thoughts, and my mother and brother were stressed about a lot of other stuff too, and on top of that, our dog —  who was originally my stepdad’s — was dying of old age and mild neglect by her original owner. a few days before i had established this blog, we had her put out of her misery. i never really got to give her a proper goodbye, nor did i get to see her drift away. in short, my world as i knew it was crumbling around me, and i once again found myself shrouded in darkness. it continued to crumble around me for many months to come.

this blog was an escape from that hell. i thought i’d needed some positivity in my life — a proper roll model to follow, whether fictional or not. A.ll M.ight had always stood out to me as a character from the moment i got into bn.ha, and i originally had plans to make a blog in July of that year, but they never took off until October, when i realized that i needed to make this blog for myself. i needed some sort of inspiration to continue to be creative and have a reason to propel myself through a dark time in my life, and i needed some sort of light to break through that darkness. A.ll M.ight shined that light, and i continued to write him through thick and thin. my muse for him has been alive and well longer than any other muse for any other character that i’ve ever interpreted in my 5 years of roleplaying, and at this point, A.ll M.ight is not just some sort of obsession for me, but an inspiration and a motivator to keep going and push through whatever obstacle is thrown at me. 

i’d like to thanks those that i have become especially closest to  —  those that were always here for me in this past year of darkness, and those that i know i can trust. i may not have many friends here, but those that i do have i hope will be friends for life.

@cchouwa  — rhi!! i love you so, so much!! you’ve been an inspiration to me from the start, with your fantastic writing, your willingness to put up with my bullshit, and your willingness to help me and support me throughout a tough time in my life. the fact that you were even so trusting of me as to let me stay with you at o.hayocon2k18 was so amazing to me, and really solidified the idea that you were a true friend. i look up to you a lot, you know, even if we bitch at each other all the time. you’re such a good friend, and i’ll never abandon you or betray you. i can’t wait to see you again!

@thievinggentleman  —  jay!! my dad!! i love you basically as much as i love rhi (but don’t tell them that), and you have shown me the same trust that rhi did and given me so much inspiration to simply be myself and embrace that. i can tell that you and i have both been through a lot these past few months, and i’m proud of you for pulling through all of the bullshit and surviving. you’re another inspiration to me, and a father figure that i can really count on. i hope to see you again soon, too!

@ghoulcka  —  ok nanners you probably don’t even give a shit about this bc you’re so fucking busy but i love you and just wanted to give you a shoutout for being so fucking amazing. you’ve also been an inspiration to me in the writing department (whenever you’re actually ic fnjsnafnkfndsaknfj) and i can’t thank you enough for what you’ve done to support the communities you’re in. 

@spitefulpumpkin / @engclsgeist — jasper!! i know we haven’t talked in a long time and i feel kinda bad about it lmao. but you’re still a big ol dad inspiration to me, and i hope that you’re proud of the improvements i’ve made since we first met, because i’m definitely hella proud of you!! if you ever wanna talk to me, shoot me an im on d.iscord!!

@conmiito  — ok jewel idk where the fuck you are rn but the fact that i have another millennial to make stupid jokes and memes with is a fucking blessing and ily so much. we need to start talking again bc hoog misses you

// hooookay! that’s all fine and dandy. there are plenty of other people that i love around here, so please don’t feel left out if you weren’t shouted out. 

in general, i want to thank all of you for  supporting me on this journey that has been this past year. this time last year, i’d just moved into my great-grandmother’s house because we had literally no where else to turn, and i’d recently lost a close friend. i’m so happy that this has been such a wonderful coping mechanism for me, to get past all of the bullshit that my life has thrown at me. so many things have changed and improved within the past year that it completely blows me away. it feels amazing to be at this point, and i want to thank everyone for supporting me over the past year.

TO ANOTHER WONDERFUL YEAR!

[bluraaven]

Smoke and Mirrors

Chapter 6

[[  AN: story-relevant tags apply.  You can find those here  ]]

"We got him!"

Guyot's grin practically stretched from ear to ear, and his enthusiasm, which was usually infectious, only moved Reynauld to respond with a twitch that did not resemble a valiant attempt at a smile so much as it did him suddenly suffering a stroke.

Guyot was right though.  Dismas was under lock and key in one of the holding cells, and in theory today's work was done and the operation a full success.  They had gotten their target, and as the leading officer in charge, Reynauld should be celebrating his victory.

But the truth was that instead of receiving back-pats and congratulations from the whole department, Reynauld would much rather have spent the night in someone else's arms.

Guyot had driven the van on their way back from the hotel, and that at least had left Reynauld to slump in the passenger seat, too out of it to do more than watch the city lights speed past them.  Once they had arrived, he had been able to hold it together long enough to escort Dismas to the prison, and then he had promptly fled to his office under the pretext of having to write reports.

That had been an hour ago.  He hadn't even fired up the computer yet.  Instead, he had chosen to wallow in alcohol-fortified self-pity.  With his arms crossed on his desk, and his head resting upon them, Reynauld passed the time by watching his office sway gently, as if it were inside a boat that was floating on a relatively calm sea.   His right hand had slipped from the wooden surface of his desk, and back then it had seemed like too much of a bother to lift it back up.

Only when somebody knocked at his door did Reynauld look up, but as soon as it turned out to be Guyot, he lowered his head again.  And because Guyot was Guyot, he was brimming with energy and joy, the combination as loathsome to Reynauld at this very moment, as sunshine and music were to the hungover.  But he was still Reynauld's best friend, and so Reynauld had greeted him with a limp flap of his hand that could mean anything really, but which Guyot interpreted as an invitation to come in and sit down.

"Yeah," Reynauld sighed, because some manner of verbal answer was necessary, lest his friend call the paramedics on him.  "We did."

"This don't work on me, ya know?" Guyot said and dipped his head so that he could look Rey in the eyes.  

Reynauld, in turn, could verify that that infuriating smile was still in place. He didn't like how Guyot could look through him.  Not that he had been putting any kind of effort into pretending that everything was fine and dandy, but still.  He guessed that was the price you had to pay for having friends you have known since you both had been in diapers.  They cared enough to make you miserable to make you feel better.

The thought struck, wrapping itself around Reynauld's brain like a python, writhing and constricting, and after a moment he wasn't even sure what he'd meant by thinking that.  It hurt to think.  And because he was hurting enough already, he stopped.  Thinking, not being in pain.  If Reynauld had been able to something about the latter, he already would have.

"Come on," Guyot cajoled in a sweet, patient voice.  "What's wrong?"

Reynauld shook his head, something that required major effort, since it still rested upon his arms.  He could hear the sigh float over him like a raincloud.

"Rey?"

"You were right," Reynauld finally replied and nodded.  A moment later he couldn't tell whether his head was still moving, or whether his office was accelerating.  He swallowed, closed his eyes, and muttered, "This was a terrible idea."

A moment of silence followed. Then,

"Look, I'm sorry ya had to put up with that sleazebag," Guyot began tentatively, but– .  

"What?" Reynauld blurted out.  He had meant moving, but slowly the meaning of Guyot's words wormed its way through to his brain.

"Remember when I said it couldn't be worse than my last date?" Reynauld said slowly.

"Yeah?"  Guyot sounded confused.

Reynauld had a hunch that if he'd been sober this conversation would not be happening, at least not like this.  

"Well, was it?" his friend finally asked, when he forgot to continue.

"No." Reynauld remembered the way Dismas' thigh had pressed against his in the bar, how it had felt to hold him close on the ride to the hotel.   All the little sounds he'd made when Reynauld had kissed him breathless.  "Wasn't the second worst either," he mumbled.  "Wasn't bad at all."

"Rey?"

"It was the best date I've ever had." Reynauld looked at Guyot in accusation, as if he were to blame for the unfairness of it all.  It had to be the drink.  It was to blame for turning him maudlin, and erasing that invaluable filter between his brain and his mouth.

"Oh no," he heard, Guyot sigh, before the warm comforting weight of a hand landed on his shoulder.  His friend gave him a little shake that Reynauld did not respond to.  "I'm sure Para has something that could cheer you up," Guyot said, making an attempt at levity.

"Fuck off," Reynauld muttered, suddenly on the verge of tears.  He was tired, drunk, and his best friend was being an ass, all of which amounted to him feeling like a steaming pile of shit.

"That bad, huh?" Guyot asked, and with a deep breath he wrapped an arm around Reynauld.  "C'mere."

Reynauld leaned into the offered embrace like a tree being felled.  Guyot caught him, held him, and rubbed large, soothing circles into his back.  It felt good.  Safe and familiar.  Guyot smelled like coffee and industrial detergent and Reynauld didn't know how long he ended up sniffing into his friend's collar while the world wavered between warm and fuzzy, and being a cold hopeless place.  

"I'm drunk," Reynauld eventually confessed in a whisper.

"I can tell," Guyot replied, his voice thick with amusement.  "Good thing I didn't let you drive."

"I didn't mean to get drunk," Reynauld complained.  But Dismas had been company, and he'd lost count of the drinks they'd had.  Finally he'd found what he had been looking for, something – someone fun and exciting, and now they were gonna take him away, and he had no one to blame but himself.

"So, just how much did ya drink?" Guyot wanted to know.

"I don't remember," Reynauld answered in a low murmur, slightly embarrassed.  He had not felt nearly as drunk in the hotel room, but it had gradually gotten worse, over time.  Some of the stronger booze had to be hitting him late.  

"Well, that's one too much for sure," Guyot chuckled, and gave Reynauld's arm a sympathetic pat.  Why don't ya get some sleep?  Things'll look brighter in the morning, I promise ya."

Reynauld didn't want to go back to an empty home.  His wife was gone, his kid wasn't there either, and his almost-lover of half a night was behind bars.  His eyes began to burn again.

This was why he didn't drink in first place.

It was not the first time he had decided to save himself the train ride home, and Guyot helped him set up with the emergency camping kit that consisted of a therm-a-rest mat, a small blow up pillow, a sheet and some blankets.  Guyot even got him a bottle of water, which became just half of one within seconds of meeting Reynauld.

Reynauld brushed his teeth in one of the nearby bathrooms and undressed back in his room, folding his clothes as neatly as he could manage on his desk.  Then, he laid down on the mattress.

The air escaped with a noise like a fart, and he groaned, an unhappy little sound, unwitnessed by anything but the floorboards.  It was a show of iron self-control when Reynauld got up again to let the mat refill before he twisted the little air vent to screw it shut.  Tomorrow he could take a shower downstairs, get a clean uniform, and be as good as new.

Today, he was allowed to be as miserable as he wanted to be.  And because he was already on his feet, Reynauld remembered to lock his office.  The last thing he wanted was for one of his superiors to encounter him in his briefs, drooling on the floor.

Morning did eventually arrive after a much too short night that Reynauld had thankfully managed to sleep through.   With the sun shining through the window everything was literally brighter, just as Guyot had promised, although Reynauld wasn't so sure about whether he felt better or worse.  It would take approximately half a galleon coffee for him to find out, so he decided to get an early start on that front.

He dressed and cleaned himself up, then brewed a pot, immediately consumed half of it, and headed downstairs to see who was already in.  Guyot wasn't going to arrive until midday, and most of his team were off-duty until much later in the day.  After a brief chat with Barristan, Reynauld headed back to his office to catch up on paperwork which he had neglected yesterday.

Once finished, he stretched, and called for Marci to take the reports to the Chief.

"Oh, but he's got a conference outta town," Marci said apologetically. "Neville told me, when I mentioned I thought I'd seen his car earlier. Anyway, I guess that means Mal's in charge."

She would be; and Reynauld had Marci take the folders to her instead.

Her reply came soon enough.

If he'd had a moderately crappy night, Dismas' must have been quite a ways further up on the Scale of Suck.  Reynauld wasn't sure why a couple of hours later he tormented himself with personally escorting the prisoner when he could have sent anybody else to do the job.

Maybe it was an inherent streak of masochism, or maybe it was guilt – but either way, he found himself in front of Dismas' cell.  Dismas, who actually looked marginally relieved to see him again.

Judging by the dark circles under his eyes, Dismas had not been able to rest at all, and Reynauld would have been surprised if he had.  The holding cells were meant to make the stay in them as unpleasant as possible, and the regular visits from the forensics team did not make matters any better. Dismas was probably right in that half of what went on in that tract was against the law.

Not that anybody would know from how operations were being run topside.

Mallory was the epitome of professionalism, and Reynauld had to sit through a very uncomfortable hour in which Dismas' defences were one by one pulled down until defeated, he agreed to cooperate.

It took roughly another hour for Reynauld to read and explain all the legal paperwork, and for Dismas to sign all the forms before Reynauld could escort him back to a cell – this time, a more adequate one for long-term detention.

They rounded the corner, but they were not the only ones, and what happened did so too fast for Reynauld to intervene.  A surprised gasp was followed by a shout of pain, coffee cups went sailing and Marci stared at them in wide-eyed shock, the tablet still clutched in her hands.  Reynauld was spared the torrent of brown liquid, but Dismas caught the brunt of it and he let out a litany of curses while trying to tug the sodden and undoubtedly scalding shirt away from his chest.

"I'm so sorry–"

"Feckin' shite– !"

"I didn't see you– "

"Fuck this cunt piece of a day with a splintering two by four!"

"Marci," Reynauld said, trying to keep his calm.  It wasn't her fault.  It wasn't anybody's fault.  It was a stupid accident.  Those happened sometimes.

"I'm so sorry!"  Marci stammered, the tablet shaking in her hands so much, she threatened to spill more coffee.  "I'm so sorry, Rey."

"What am I, chopped liver?" Dismas muttered darkly.

"Guyot sent me for some coffee; he's interrogating the other guy, and I didn't see you around the corner– ,"

"What other guy?" Dismas asked, but Marci was still stuttering apologies, so Reynauld hushed her and ordered her to get a mop and wipe the floor while he would take care of Dismas.

Reynauld half expected a little puff of dust to rise from how quickly Marci made a dash for it, undoubtedly relieved that he wasn't upset or going to shout at her in the middle of the office and not willing to hang around in case he changed his mind.

"Well, this is great," Dismas bit out through clenched teeth a moment later.  "This whole fucking mess is just.   Fantastic.  You get to be my babysitter and I'm fucked six ways to Sunday if anybody ever finds out I talked."

"Did she burn you?" Reynauld asked, trying to be patient, calm, professional.  To channel a little bit of Mallory.

"No," Dismas grunted.  

"I mean it.  I can take you to the medical wing," Reynauld offered.

"M'fine," Dismas said in a tone that made Reynauld feel slightly uncomfortable because of how familiar it sounded.

So that's what it was like to be on the receiving end of that.  "If you say so," Reynauld agreed, not believing it for a second and feeling a twinge of sympathy for Guyot.

"Are you gonna get me out of this, or do I have to smell like cafeteria from now on?" Dismas asked, once more tugging on the clothes he had been given upon his arrival at the PD.  Both the shirt and sweatpants were marred by large, brown coffee stains.

"You'll get clean clothes," Reynauld assured him.  

"Good."

For a moment, Reynauld thought that Dismas sounded slightly mollified, but apparently he had just been getting ready to throw the next punch.

"I wouldn't want you pigs all over me like strays over a bitch in heat."

"No danger there," Reynauld choked out, once he was done picking his jaw off the floor.  What the hell?  

"Just you then, huh?" Dismas asked in a mock sweet tone.  "You know, you should receive an award for that act.

"Don't." Reynauld bit out.  He understood the other man's anger.  He did not deserve it, not after going out of his way to make sure Dismas wouldn't look like an illiterate idiot in front of Mallory, but he understood it.  That did not mean he was willing to put up with everything Dismas threw his way.

"Why not?"  Dismas cocked a brow.  "Should be proud o'yerself.  Had me fooled, ya know?"

"I'm not– ,"  Reynauld near-shouted.

"Will you mention it in your report?" Dismas continued, his voice rising in volume too, but his tone had soured, had become spiteful.  "What it was like to kiss me?  Or how you were hard for me?"

Reynauld's eyes narrowed, but Dismas took no heed.  "And today I almost though ya were the Good Cop."

"I very much hope that I am a good cop," Reynauld finally cut him short, stepping in front of Dismas and blocking his further way.  From their encounter at Jubert's, Reynauld already knew Dismas wasn't intimidated by thugs larger than he was, but he wasn't some bar-brawling punk and if Dismas wanted some, he could say whatever he wanted to get it right here, right now.  If he had the balls.

Anybody who might have passed by in that moment, would be greeted by an interesting sight; a silent standoff between a man in cuffs and ruined clothes, and one officer in slightly rumpled uniform.

Dismas was the first to look away.

Reynauld shook his head, and pushed Dismas in the direction of the nearest showers that also happened to contain his locker.  He should follow protocol and take him back to the prison tract, but the faster he got this job done, the faster he could hand off Dismas to somebody else, and take his mounting frustration out on the dummies in the gym rather than on the prisoner next to him.

"Mind the stairs – ," Reynauld barked, one-finger-punching the light switch with more force than it deserved.  

"F– !"

Dismas pitched forward and Reynauld reacted instantly, catching him under the arm.  Having a kid had honed his reflexes of catching smaller people from busting their skulls on the floor.  Dismas counted, because he only came up to Reynauld's nose.

Reynauld expected another tirade, but when he turned to face Dismas, he could see that Dismas' brows had drawn together, and up.

"Why?" Dismas asked the sound of his voice brittle.  

"Why what?" Reynauld repeated, confused and unsure of what had just happened.

"If I were you," Dismas explained, as if he were talking to a child, "I would have kicked myself down those stairs."

"Too much paperwork," Reynauld replied before he could think of any better reply.

Dismas blinked and then he failed at fighting off a smile, which resulted in the corners of his mouth being tugged in different directions.

"Rey– ," Dismas said, exasperated.

"Yeah?"

Dismas' brows drew up in surprise.  "So that really is your name?"

"It is," Reynauld confirmed.

"You're the guy who arrested me.  I don't want to like you," Dismas said, and instantly looked like he would have rather bitten off his own tongue.

"... but you do?" Reynauld dared to ask, and he was met with a pained look.

He had never apologized a to a crook before.  (But then he had also never arrested one during foreplay.)  Yet this seemed important, somehow.

"I told you, I'm sorry," Reynauld began.  "I mean it.  And I know it's not much, but I was after a criminal.  My job was to catch the Grave Robber.  I didn't mean to hurt... you."

A muscle on the side of Dismas' jaw twitched, and he gave Reynauld a curt nod.

"I like you too," Reynauld admitted softly and watched the furrows on Dismas' brow and between his eyes deepen.

Dismas took a deep breath, and it appeared as if he wanted to say something, because his mouth worked, but in the end, couldn't.  A couple of tries later, he finally managed to croak, "You're alright.  An' a good cop, I guess."

Reynauld sensed that he'd have a crick in his neck if he suffered any more whiplash, but he appreciated the sentiment.  This was better than being an outlet for the other man's anger.  Much better.

"Thank you."

There. They'd talked.  Things had been said.  In the low light, Dismas' eyes looked nearly black.  Reynauld wished he had something more to add, or that Dismas would make a joke, say something clever.  He didn't.

Rey did.  "Hey."

Dismas looked up, and the sane part of Reynauld watched with detached terror as he stroked a hand over Dismas cheek, before leaning down and kissing him.

Reynauld realized he might have made a mistake when Dismas' teeth closed on his lip with enough force to hold him in place and do some serious damage if he bit down.

"Ain't you lucky I never hurt a lover," Dismas murmured, and, as if the arrest had never happened, he pulled himself into the kiss, open-mouthed and soothing the sting in Reynauld's lip by sucking on it.

Reynauld wrapped his arms around the smaller man's frame.  Why did this have to feel so good?  Why did Dismas' rugged looks and snarky remarks rouse something in him that none of his 'respectable' dates ever had?  He licked over Dismas' lips, who opened right up and ran his tongue over Reynauld's.  Reynauld thought that his chest might burst if that bubble of happiness inside it swelled any more.

Dismas' cuffed hands ran over his stomach, stroking, petting, groping.  "See?  Told ya 'bout the coffee stains," Dismas mumbled between kisses.

Reynauld's laughter was muffled, and he reached under Dismas' shirt and pulled it over the other man's head.   There was no way to get it past the handcuffs and off completely, so Reynauld simply made Dismas lift his arms over his head where they were in no danger of coming close to his belt again.  Dismas didn't seem to mind.  He held Reynauld's head with both hands and tongue kissed him like there was no tomorrow.  

Reynauld grabbed Dismas by the hips, and began to walk them towards the showers.  Small steps, one leg between Dismas', it was almost like a slow dance.  One that ended once they were on the tiled floor on the other side of the room.

Dismas was alternatively running his hands through Reynauld's hair, and cupping his jaw.  The handcuffs barely seemed to hinder him.

Reynauld broke off their kiss only when he shoved down Dismas' sweats and briefs in one go, kneeling to get them down around Dismas' ankles.  He felt Dismas' weight as the other man braced himself on his shoulder.

Reynauld thought that as he came up, he caught a flash of disappointment, but then Dismas stepped out of his pants, kicked them off, and wiggled his brows.  He was only half-hard, but that changed quickly when Reynauld's hand wrapped around his cock, giving him a few good tugs from base to tip.

"Ah, fuck!"

Dismas' arms tightened around Reynauld's neck.  Reynauld could see that his pupils were blown wide, and he leaned in again, claiming Dismas' mouth with his own.  His own pants were tight, but he could wait.  First he wanted to enjoy Dismas' cock in his hand, the weight and feel of it once it filled out.  Its heat, the softness of skin.

He wanted to hear the noises Dismas was making against his lips when Reynauld pulled on him, slow and hard, or how his breathing stopped and picked up again with how he thumbed the sensitive head.  Dismas twitched in his hand, and after only a few passes, he was leaking slick.

Reynauld grinned and ignored the growl and the nip of teeth against his neck as he let go of Dismas to run his hands over the other man's backside, kneading his firm buttocks.  If this were another time and place, he might have done more than just trace Dismas' crack with his index finger before brushing past it.  Or he would have paid more attention to Dismas' balls.  

But time was one of the things they were short on, and with only the mildest pangs of regret, Reynauld returned his attention to Dismas' cock, running the backs of his knuckles lightly over its underside.

Dismas nudged Reynauld's nose with his own, to get some attention.

"You too," he panted.  "C'mon."

Reynauld could not take off his pants without also losing his belt, and that was actually a whole lot more complicated than it sounded.  He just unzipped his fly, tugged his underwear to the side, and pulled out his own prick.

They barely touched like this, the position not allowing for proper contact, and Dismas grunted in frustration.   Reynauld picked up one of Dismas' legs, and lifted it so that the crook of the other man's knee was right over that of his elbow.  Unbalanced, Dismas pitched backwards, and hit one of the shower knobs.  Cold water sprayed them both.

They gasped, then laughed, and then Dismas' low moan was the only sound to be heard for a long time as Reynauld began to grind against him.

"Yeah.  Fuck, yes."

Dismas bit the lobe of Reynauld's ear, pulled on it and then mouthed along his neck.  Despite his limited options of movement, Dismas was rutting back as much as he could.

The water turned from icy to warm quickly, and their new position allowed Reynauld to stoke them both in tandem. His back and the backs of his thighs were burning, but it was only a mild inconvenience at this point, because Dismas was panting against Reynauld's lips, open-mouthed and with a look of intense concentration on his face.  A couple of tugs later and he swallowed, opening his eyes briefly, and then squeezed them shut again, hips bucking wildly.

Reynauld stroked himself faster.  He could feel Dismas come and the additional weight as the other man let himself be held up.  Reynauld rested his forehead against Dismas' and tightened his hold until the dark bathroom was suddenly lit up by a shower of bright sparks, the water instantly sluicing away any evidence of their tryst.

Dismas let him catch his breath on his own time, his fingers massaging the back of Reynauld's neck.  His nose was buried in his cheek, and he drew back slightly as Reynauld came down from his high.  Dismas placed a tender, almost shy kiss on his cheek before withdrawing completely.

The position they were in was becoming more and more uncomfortable.  Reynauld let go of Dismas' leg, who took a second to find his balance.  They didn't look at each other.  Reynauld reached over Dismas' shoulder to turn off the water.  As soon as it was cut off, so was the magic of the moment.

Dismas was nearly naked and started to shiver while Reynauld's uniform was soaked right down to his socks.  They let go of each other, and stepped back.  Reynauld undid Dismas' handcuffs long enough for him to dry himself off and get dressed, before he closed them again and changed into a new uniform himself.

All the time, the rush of his own blood in his ears was still the only thing Reynauld could hear, along with a curious ringing.  It nicely balanced out the feeling of having swallowed a black hole.

 What had he just done?  He must be insane.  This could have cost him his work, it still could.  Anybody could have come down, could have seen–

"Your friend," Dismas said suddenly, interrupting Reynauld's inner meltdown.

"What? Who?" Reynauld stammered, confused.  This was not the right time to bring up any of his friends.  Merely thinking about how they would react if they knew was enough mortification for a lifetime.

Dismas huffed.  "The soulless wannabe maxillofacial surgeon," he explained.

Reynauld had an inkling that Dismas meant Guyot, but no idea why he would want to talk about the other police officer.  Still... "Soulless?"

"Yeah.  Ain't that what they say about redheads?"

"You don't really believe that," Reynauld said.

"It don't matter what I believe," Dismas said with a slight trace of annoyance.  "Thing is, " he added, and Reynauld perceived something in his voice he recognized instantly.

It was urgency.

"He's the one interrogating Louet, ain't he?" Dismas asked.  "I was wondrin' if ya'd let me talk ta him.  Louet, not yer friend.  He's a dick."

"Why?" Reyauld wanted to know, wary of where this was going.  He did not rise to the bait.  Just by how Dismas' accent thickened, Reynauld could tell that the other man was much more nervous about this request than he was letting on.  Probably because it was important to him.

"Cause he might tell me something he won't tell you," Dismas retorted, as if Reynauld was an idiot for not thinking of the possibility.

"I doubt that," Reynauld replied.  "Besides, you could just as well mean to silence him."

"Because he sold me out?" Dismas asked with raised brows.  The grin he shot Reynauld looked strained, and his tone just missed his usual cocky drawl.  "Eh, thought by now ya'd know there's no honour amongst thieves.  'S all water under the bridge."

"We made him an offer," Reynauld said.  "The same we did you.  Can you blame him?"

"I don't blame 'im," Dismas said, and sighed, shoulders slumping.  Sensing that this approach was not going to work, he appeared to briefly war with himself, before he straightened again and looked Reynauld in the eye.  "I just wanna talk.  And I fucking hate asking for favours, but please.  Just let me talk ta 'im.  M' in cuffs anyway, and I know you're gonna be listening, might learn somethin' new that way.  I just... c'mon Rey.  Louet and I, we go way back.  Waddya got to lose?"

What did he have to lose?  Reynauld weighted his options.  Dismas wouldn't be able to attack Louet physically.  If he just wanted to grab the opportunity to fling some profanities his way well, that wasn't gonna harm the other prisoner.  Anything they said would be on record, and even if they had some code – that could be broken.  But this way at least they would find out about its existence, which was still better than nothing.

"I'm pulling you out if that conversation takes a turn I don't like," Reynauld said, after arriving at a conclusion.

"Sounds fair," Dismas sighed, and Reynauld realized that he had not expected to be granted this wish.  "Thanks."  It sounded like Dismas had developed a sudden toothache.

The awkwardness of what they had done hung heavily over them until Reynauld cleared his throat.  They had both finished dressing, and he had stuffed his soaked uniform in a bag to take home at the end of the day.  "Let's go, shall we?"

Dismas nodded without saying another word, and trudged along Reynauld as he led them both through the building, back to the interrogation rooms.   Either Dismas was too lost in thought, or too tired for his usual witticism, and the walk passed in uncomfortable, although not-quite tense silence.

Until they went by the cafeteria, where he stopped as if rooted to the ground.

"Is that a cattle prod?  Why is there a cattle prod next to the coffee machine?"  Dismas looked from said item back to Reynauld.

"To keep away forensics and interns," Reynauld sighed.  "You should know why, since you already met the former.  This way."  He tugged on Dismas' arm, and the other man stumbled along, his eyes still glued to the coffee machine.

But if Dismas wanted his chance of talking to Louet, he better hurry up.  It wasn't everyday that the Chief was gone and Reynauld was willing to bend the rules... a lot, actually.

Louet had already agreed to work with the police.  He was afforded special status in exchange for what information he might have, the extraction of which was Guyot's job.  And if they were lucky, the two still had not finished.

They met Guyot halfway to the cells.  He had just gotten himself some fresh coffee, and after Reynauld called out, he waited for them to catch up.

"Have you seen Marci?" Guyot asked in greeting.  "I told her to get me some coffee, but it seems she forgot."

Reynauld noticed how Dismas tensed next to him, but before he could explain, Guyot remarked,

"Hey, why is your hair all wet?"

Dismas snorted and Reynauld suddenly felt like somebody had upended a bucketful of ice water over him.  In his mind, he saw Dismas wrapped around him, soaked clothes clinging to their forms as they rutted in the department showers, where everybody could have walked in on them.   Light help him, that had to be the stupidest thing he had ever done in his life, and he'd certainly had a thousand times more luck than brains to get away with it.

He needed a distraction, and fast.  As luck would have it, Dismas had provided him with one.

"I was wondering if Dismas could talk to your guy?" Reynauld asked without offering an answer, and tried to convey everything else that he could not say out loud via telepathy.

Thankfully, Guyot's psychic abilities proved to be infallible.  "Sure," the redhead replied with a shrug.  "Just make sure to chain him out of reach."

Well, that had been easier than anticipated.  Reynauld gave Dismas an encouraging nod and smile, while Guyot swept the key card through the lock system which emitted a low buzzing sound.  After a second, the red light flashed briefly before turning to green.

"Weird," Guyot said, and raised the coffee cup to take a loud, slurping sip.  He sighed in contentment, licking his lips.

Dismas watched him without bothering to conceal his disgust, and Reynauld tapped his foot impatiently.

The light went out, and the doors finally opened.

Louet was still sitting in the same chair, at the very table he had been handcuffed to.  He would have appeared to have nodded off, if not for the blood.  It pooled around his chair, filled the gaps of the tiled floor, giving off a sweet, thick odour.  Somebody had slit Louet's throat with enough force to lay open half his neck, and even stain the walls.

[harry-puddle]

Two Months IV

Pairing: Prince!Ben Solo x Reader Warnings: Angst and cursing Summary: Ben Solo has two months to marry before being put in an arranged marriage. In a fit of rage he runs away and stumbles into The Cantina Diner where he meets a beautiful waitress. A/N: oops

Prologue/Chapter I/Chapter II/Chapter III

You and Ben had been hanging out everyday for a week now. At the moment the two of you were sitting on your couch watching whatever came up on the tv and cuddling.

Eventually the news came on.

“We have an update on the whereabouts of Prince Benjamin Organa-Solo.”

Ben stiffened and hoped you didn’t notice, you didn’t.

“It seems as if the Prince is either in the town Varykino or in the area of Paonga. The palace is still looking for him so if anyone has any leads please make sure to call the police as this is a very important manhunt. Goodnight.”

“Can I ask you something Y/N?” said Ben, muting the tv.

“What’s up?”

“Why do you hate the Prince so much?”

“Everything we know about him says he isn’t prepared to rule. He’s self centered. The only things he knows how to focus on, besides himself, are women and training. He clearly comes from a loving family considering how the King and Queen rule and treat their subjects so I just don’t understand why he would act like that. I mean sure his dad was just a roughed up drag racer, but that doesn’t give him the excuse to act like that.”

“Maybe that’s not really who he is, there’s probably more to him that just that. And maybe him running away was justified. Not everyone is fit to rule. And also who knows if the King and Queen are truly good parents, just because they can rule doesn’t mean they can parent.”

You shook your head and smiled.

“If you care about the Prince so much maybe you should go on the manhunt to find him.” you said.

“I wouldn’t go that far.”

“It’s kinda crazy to think that a royal could be in Varykino though. Maybe I’ve seen Prince Benjamin already and I don’t even know about it.”

“You have no idea.” thought Ben. 

As Hux sat in his hotel room his stomach grumbled. The only thing he could think about was the waffles from The Cantina Diner. Sure he had been trying to be sneaky in order to not bump into his ex, but those waffles really were to die for. 

Slowly he walked down Main Street and entered the diner.

Hearing the door ring Maz looked up from her paperwork. In strode someone she would never imagine seeing again.

“Hux? What’re are you doing here?” she asked eyes narrowed. She not only wanted to look out for you, but for Ben too. 

“I’m in town on business and as much as I dislike the kitsch of your restaurant I do love your waffles. I found myself craving some earlier today.”

Maz prayed that Ben wouldn’t come to the Cantina today. 

Stretching your neck you walked over to the nearest customer, but just as your eyes landed on him you silently gasped. 

“Hux? What are you doing here?”

“Well I was trying to order waffles but it seems as if my waitress is a lot more interested in my personal life.”

“Oh shove it ginger.”

“Such language.”

“Poe! Will you take this table for me I need to use the bathroom!” you said, turning to leave Hux. You were stopped however by a cold hand encircling your wrist.

“On the contrary, I want you to be my waitress. Not some dandy who thinks he knows everything.”

Snatching your wrist back you gasped.

“Don’t you dare talk about Poe like that.”

“Yeah!” shouted Poe from a few feet away. “My boyfriend is the only one allowed to talk to me like that!”

Although Hux had spent the better half of his “mission” trying to avoid you, now he had almost forgotten why he left you. You were beautiful, you had a fire behind you, one that got stronger when you got mad. Dare he say it but, Hux missed you?

“I’m only gonna be your waitress so I can have the pleasure of spitting in your waffles.” you said walking away haughtily.

You were an asshole when needed, but you weren’t that much of an asshole. As much as you wanted to spit in Hux’s food, you buried the hatchet and decided to let him eat in peace. 

As you walked over to Hux’s table and put the waffles down before you could leave there was Hux’s hand around your wrist again.

“Join me?” 

“What the fuck is up with guys wanting me to join them for food?” you thought.

“If you haven’t noticed I’m currently working so as much as I would love to be graced with your presence I can’t.” 

With that you curtsied and left. 

Eventually you came back with the check for Hux but before you could leave once again he grabbed your wrist.

“I know I’m being forceful but I’d really like to sit down with you, catch up, fix things between us.”

“Okay. No funny stuff okay?” 

“Promise.” said Hux giving you a smile that made your skin crawl a little.

Walking home your felt your phone start to buzz, the caller ID stating it was Ben.

“What’s up?”

“I just wanted to know if you wanted to see a movie or something tonight.”

“Um, I can’t. I’m busy tonight.”

“You’re not going out with another man.” said Ben, his tone joking.

“Not exactly…”

“What?”

“My ex came into the Cantina. He wants to meet up and fix things between us. Nothing more. I have zero feelings for him.”

“You better. Don’t want my girl being stolen from me.”

Your heart flipped at what he said. Were you really his girl? The two of you had been hanging out consistently for three weeks now but never spoke about what your relationship exactly was. Was it even a relationship?

“Be safe okay? We’ll talk later.”

“Okay! L–” you stopped yourself. Did you actually love Ben? No. It was too soon. “Let’s talk afterwards.”

When you got home you sat down on your bed and put your head in your hands. Your mind was racing. What did Hux want to talk about? Did that slime bag still care about you? What was your status with Ben?

Your thoughts were interrupted when a knock at the door came.

“Y/N open up! It’s your best friend in the world!” came Poe’s voice.

Rolling your eyes you opened the door. Before you stood Poe with BB.

“Come in. You can’t stay really long though cause I’m going out later.”

“Ben?”

“No.”

“You already cheating on him?”

“Oh shut up.” you said, bending down to pick up the spaniel. “You love me don’t you BB? You’d never judge me.” 

BB responded by giving you a single bark.

“He’s my child, of course he’d judge you. Whatcha up to then if you’re not cheating on him?”

“Hux wanted to catch up.”

“Y/N…”

“I’m not going to get back together with him. He’s the worst. He just wants to catch up and bury the hatchet. Besides, I’m with Ben.”

“Are you really though?”

“I don’t know. I want to.”

“How long have you known him for?”

“Three weeks or so.”

“And how much do you know about him?”

“I know enough.”

“What’s his last name?”

You went silent. Did you really know Ben? You knew information about him, but everything you told him lacked details. He told you about his parents, but never gave their names. He told you about his childhood, but never told you where he grew up. 

“Do you even know where he’s from?” asked Poe, stirring you from your thoughts. “Word has been getting around. Nobody really knows him. What does he even do for a living?”

“I… don’t know.” you said, hanging your head.

“I don’t know if this is the right thing for you Y/N. You barely know him. He could be dangerous! He could be on the run from the cops!” said Poe, rubbing your back.

You shoved him off of you.

“You do not get to make these decisions for me. I care about him and he cares about me, I think.”

“You don’t even know if he cares about you?!”

“We haven’t defined anything okay!?”

“Y/N me and the rest of the gang care about you. We just want to make sure you’re safe and doing the right thing. Okay? I spoke to Maz and–”

“Oh so now Maz gets a say on my personal life?”

“She’s not so sure you should be with Ben. She thinks it could hurt you.”

“Poe. Leave. Now.”

“Y/N we care about you.”

“Just go. You guys clearly don’t care about what I want.”

Poe sighed, grabbed BB and left. You groaned, still needing to take off your uniform. Hux would be at your apartment in ten minutes.

Releasing a big sigh you got up and got changed. A few minutes later a knock on your door came. 

Opening it you were greeted by the sight of Hux. Casual was never his forte. He was wearing black slacks and a casual button down. 

“Ready?”

The two of you had spent the night at Fett and Son’s just catching up on each other’s life. 

“What went wrong Y/N? We were so good together.” asked Hux.

“You chose your job over me! You tossed me aside like I meant nothing to you. I loved you Armitage.”

Hux’s heart melted a little hearing you call him by his first name. 

“I needed to avoid you. That job was important to me. You knew that I wanted to be consort more than anything.” At this point Hux reached across the table to grab your hands. “I needed to save up money. I was going to ask you to marry me.”

Walking into Fett and Son’s, Ben sat down at the bar and order himself a cocktail, something called Blue Milk. Whatever it was it was strong. Sure your relationship, could he call it a relationship?, with him was really new, but he really liked you. Hearing that you were seeing an ex tonight made him realize how much he love- no, too soon for love.

“Take me back Y/N.” said Hux. “I love you.”

Swiveling around in his seat a head of orange hair caught Ben’s eye. Looking further he realized that he was holding hands with a woman. Upon further inspection he saw those hands belonged to you. 

Ben saw red. 

Tag List (if you wanna be added just send me an ask): @floral-and-fine @nwmtagsb​

[halcyon-writings]

Can you do a #20 in the angst prompt with Dante from Devil May Cry?

since I wasn’t sure if anon wanted the reboot or original I just decided to go with the original

masterlist - fandom list - prompts tag

Not that you minded still being alive or anything, but you were pretty certain that you were going to die on that last job of yours. Well, it was almost a given, as ever since you partnered up with Dante’s business, it seemed like there was always some weirdo that wanted to destroy the world, take over it, or even both, and this was basically one of these times. 

You were putting pressure on the stab wound on your side (which may or may not have been deeper than you anticipated, but did they seriously have to stab you? No, no they did not) and you were pretty sure something was broken. The entirety of your body felt numb, and the new ‘baddie’ decided to take their time and just start monologing about their plans and goals.

They wanted Dante’s attention, with him being the Son of Sparda and all that. So their plan was just why not take a captive for a while.

(You’d eventually learn that he didn’t really want you to know, but seriously, it was a little obvious, what human man had bright white hair and could transform into a powerful demonic form?) 

You were in too much pain to make a snarky remark as they continued on with their speech, but one thing you were certain about was that holy shit, you were gonna die. The thought of that might’ve scared you a little. 

You weren’t going to let yourself be used like bait, and so you attempted to escape, which led to your current predicament: you on the ground, bleeding out, broken, and bruised.

With a rather showy display of breaking down a wall, not like doors had a purpose or anything like that, Dante had appeared, with Trish, Lady, and oh goodness was that Nero and Lucia ? behind him. However, he was uncharacteristically serious, eyes flashing dangerously. 

The baddie, or whatever their name was had no time to react before Dante took them down. Well, at least that was taken care of. 

“Good god what took you guys so long,” You joked tiredly, the pressure from your hand was beginning to get weaker, “With all this blood there wouldn’t even be a need for blood drives anymore.”

Although Dante seemed amused at your remark, you could still see the seriousness in his eyes, along with hints of concern?

“I’d feel a hell of a lot better if you weren’t staring at me as if you were a kid whose dog just got hit by a car,” You muttered weakly.

Dante raised an eyebrow, “Selling yourself short aren’t you Lassie?” 

“If I wasn’t in a lot of pain right now, I’d hit you,” You replied, a sudden jolt of pain surged through your body and the usually cool and aloof Dante was kneeling beside you, 

It was probably because you were losing consciousness, but you let a little bit of your fear show on your face, before grabbing his forearm as tight as you were able (which wasn’t much since you were going to pass out anytime soon). 

“Please don’t let me die, Dante.”

It had been two weeks since then, and you were basically fine, you didn’t need to talk to anyone about your ‘ordeal’, as Lucia had so eloquently put it, and your wound was barely hurting anymore. But, Dante wouldn’t allow you to get back to work right away, believing that no you weren’t fully okay yet. He did let you stay at Devil May Cry during your recovery.

He was a total mother hen, and you were getting a bit annoyed, since half the time he’d be his usual snarky, outgoing self and the other half he’d shoot down any idea of you getting back to work.

This wasn’t the first time this had happened either, as you remember before you fully worked with him, he got this way after what happened to his brother during the Temen-ni-gru fiasco. 

You normally didn’t like to start any arguments, but you were just that tired of being treated like this. Trish and Lady weren’t at Devil May Cry, as the two were out either on an actual job or another shopping trip (to which you declined an invitation, not feeling like walking around a mall a lot to look at different clothes)

And when you confronted your longtime friend/ maybe-possibly? boyfriend (you’ll admit that once or twice the two of you slept together), an argument was bound to start.

“I just don’t see the issue with me getting back into jobs, especially if they’re terribly simple,” You insisted.

“Well for one, you’re still injured,” Dante answered with a scoff, currently seated in the swivel chair you got him as a gift and partially a joke (when he complained about how uncomfortable his old one was), legs propped on his desk, hands behind his head, which irritated you a just a little bit, “and you almost opened your stab wound again a few days ago, when you should’ve been resting.”

“My bladder didn’t mind that I had stitches and I needed to pee man.”

“Yeah and having you bleed out in my bathroom? Doesn’t sound like an ideal situation,” He answered smartly.

You narrowed your eyes, “Fine, but clearly this,” You gestured towards yourself, more specifically where you were wounded, “Isn’t the only thing that’s bothering you.”

“I think I’m doing pretty okay, thank you very much,” He answered tersely, getting up from his seat, which meant the conversation was over, and made his way towards the door of the shop, “I have a job to do, and you should just rest up.”

You clenched your fist, and before you could even stop yourself, you snapped, “For once, stop pretending you’re okay! Just talk to me! How is it that whenever you’re injured basically similarly if not worse than I am, everything’s all fine and dandy but if I even stub my toe, it’s suddenly as if I can’t even function without someone helping me. ”

“Because even if I had those injuries, I’d be more likely to survive, you’re only human (Y/N).”

Your eyes narrowed again, “Are you really insinuating that I’m weak? If you are-”

“I don’t want anyone else important to me to die, alright?” He interrupted, making you go silent, “I’ve dealt with that enough already. And when you grabbed my arm before you went unconscious, I swore to myself that I never wanted to see you be that scared again.”

It was quiet for a few seconds, before you walked over to him, and placed a hand on his shoulder, giving it a comforting squeeze. Despite your annoyance, the more rational part of you could understand where he was coming from, as you were also aware of his life and how difficult it had been for him.Which also meant you felt a little guilty about how you were acting. 

“I’m sorry,” you began, “Here I am, pushing myself to get back to jobs and all that, worrying you more than I probably should. With how much I was just sitting around or laying down, I would’ve felt myself going a little crazy, but I know that you’ve lost good people from your life. So I’ll take it slow, and then I’ll try and get back to the swing of things.

Now come on, you have a job to get too, and the later you are, the less they’ll wanna pay,” You added, beginning to move him in the direction of the doors.

Dante had the usual cocky smirk on his face, but this time, it was  a lot more natural, “Oh come on babe, you know I never keep a client waiting.”

You snorted, “Yeah totally, and seriously, get going, I expect you to bring home something for Dinner, you know as well as I do that I can barely cook.”

“Being able to make instant ramen doesn’t mean you can cook,” Dante reminded you.

Playfully, you swatted at his butt, making him laugh, “Well go on, but I do expect something good to eat later.”

He gave a mock salute and then was out the door.

[authoressskr]

This Secluded Glen

Written for: @d-s-winchester’s Fall in Love with Fall Challenge

Pairing: Castiel x Reader

Characters: Reader (Hey, that’s you!), Castiel, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Donna Hanscum, mentions of Jody Mills and Claire Novak

Warnings: SMUT (it’s not very good smut, but I tried - maybe call it smuttish instead), Language, ugh, can’t think of anything else now...

Summary: Sleepy Hollow is your side passion - besides saving people and hunting things - and Dean calls one night with a lead. And to tease you about your crush on their resident angel.

Tagging: @lyndsay88 @nobodys-baby-now @lucis-unicorn @chelsea072498 @thewhiterabbit42

 “Hello?” You huffed, adrenaline still running high after the tussle with the ghost graveside.

“We got a case.”

“So nice to hear from you too Dean! No, I’m fine! Thank you for asking! How’s Sam? Cas? Good, good.” Donna chuckled at the rampant sarcasm, her face aglow with amusement and the fire from the grave.

“Can you meet us?”

“You know, I always cherish these moments with you.”

“Next time I’ll have Cas call you,” Dean answered with a knowing chuckle.

“Well, it’s been nice talking to you. Tell Sam I said hi.”

“Alright, alright. That was a low blow. Can you meet us or not?” You shifted the shovel from its place tucked under your right armpit to your left hand, moving it back and forth absentmindedly. Donna moved away from the fire a few feet to take a call of her own, lifting her hand to point to the phone at her ear. You nodded at her, wishing the fire would burn faster but the little motel-sized bottle of vodka you’d had in your car and the dry autumn foliage was the only accelerant you’d had on hand...so this might take a bit. You sigh.

“Depends.”

“On?” You can hear Sam’s voice in the background, but can’t quite make out what he’s saying. “Dude, I’m asking. ‘Kay. Well, Sam mentioned you were kind of an expert on whatever the hell this is supposed to be.”

“High praise.”

“Is that Y/N?” You hear Cas over the speakerphone which Dean must have just switched it to and fight the warmth that is rising in your cheeks.

“Hi, Cas. Hi, Sam.”

“Hello, Y/N.”

“Hiya, Y/N. Did Dean tell you we found a case?”

“First thing he said to me actually, Sam.” As the fire began to die down, you dropped the shovel down into the grave to poke at the ashes, watching Donna approach you.

“Don’t act all pissy with me, princess.” You roll your eyes, letting Donna take the shovel as you turn your own phone to speaker.

“Your phone skills are lacking, Dean.” You mutter, following beside Donna as you make your way away from the grave, carefully picking your way through the headstones as the leaves crunch under your feet.

“Hi, Winchesters!” Donna calls out cheerfully, a bright smile on her face.

“Sherriff Hanscum!” Sam calls out. “How’s it going?”

“Better now that Y/N helped me with the ghost. Jody was busy, so she sent her on down. Didn’t even take a whole 24 hours!” You duck your head at Donna’s praise, making her elbow you lightly.

“Y/N is a very thorough hunter,” Cas adds and Donna lets out a little squeal.

“Are you Castiel - the angel?! Claire and Y/N told me ‘bout you!” Donna catches your glare and attempts to backtrack. “Oh, not that we talk about you a lot. Just in passin’, ya know?” You give up and just slap your free hand over your forehead and eyes, stopping at the tree line. “Not that I’m not curious!” She adds hurriedly and you can hear Sam and Dean snicker on the other end. Asshats.

“Alright, alright. Can you meet us or not?” Dean questions again as Donna loads the shovel into her cruiser’s trunk then leans against the side.

“You haven’t told me anything except you found a case. What is it that Team Free Will can’t handle?”

“It’s not that we can’t handle it -”

“Dean, Y/N gave you very detailed instructions to call her if a case came up in or near Sleepy Hollow, New York.” Cas interrupts and you can picture his handsome face so sternly lecturing -- wait.

“Sleepy Hollow? THE Sleepy Hollow?” You manage a deep breath before continuing. “You know what Dean? No. Have a good night Sam and Cas.” Your about to jam your thumb onto the red “End” button - which isn’t half as satisfying as slamming a phone on a receiver or the click of an old school flip phone - when Sam’s voice is calling your name.

“Y/N! Don’t hang up!”

“You gotta give him a chance, Y/N!” Donna yells in tandem, her hands outstretched and aloft in a “Stop” gesture.

“Send me the details, Sam. I’ll read it when I pulled over for my first break. And Dean?”

“Yeah?”

“Just remember I got a hell of a right hook.”

“And I will not heal you from any injuries that Y/N delivers upon you.” You want to brush this off but you know your face has softened at his declaration. Dean’s laughter surprises you a little and when Donna sees your lips curl slightly, she scoffs before smiling herself.

“I love to annoy you, Y/N. You know that. And we’ll be seeing you in few hours.”

“Uh, no. I drive the speed limit, buddy.”

“We’ll see you soon, Y/N. Oh, and I’ve just emailed the news stories to you. And directions.” Dean snickers again and you’d bet your bottom dollar that Sam has a huge grin plastered on his face.

“I get lost once and you two will never let me live it down.”

“Nope. See you soon, kiddo.” Dean calls out and you hear the chair scrape.

“Wait - I have not gotten to say goodbye to Y/N.”

“Goodbye and goodnight Cas. I’ll see you all soon. Bye Sam. Bye asshat.” You disconnect the call, tucking the phone into your back pocket before meeting Donna’s knowing gaze.

”Come on, let’s get you back into town for some shut-eye. You can get a couple hours at least.” Arching an eyebrow, you make your way around to the passenger side and slide in. “Dream some sweet angel-filled dreams.” And there it was.

“Not you too Donna.”

”Oh, I’m all for it. I ship it hard. Isn’t that what that means? All aboard the SS Love Boat featuring Y/N and Cas!” She toots the horn as she pulls onto the road, her laughter filling the cab.

“See if I bring you any more of those caramels you like.”

“I betcha I’ll get lots of those caramels if you get laid.”

---

Even with three hours sleep, you arrive dead ass tired in the town that had fascinated you since childhood.

The seventeen-and-a-half-hour drive was made in about fifteen, which gave you a little time to nap before the Winchesters and Cas showed up. You asked for two rooms, texted Sam that you’d gotten them a room beside yours and you were laying down. Not waiting for a reply, you enter your room, and immediately pulled out your handy dandy notebook which held your handmade stencils. You pull a small can of glow in the dark spray paint out of the side pocket of your duffle before kneeling. You spray on the stencils right above the old baseboards, all except the angel warding, which you put by the light switch with a post-it note below it that read ”Scratch and Sniff: Angel Edition”. Chucking off your dirty skinny jeans and tossing on an overly large t-shirt, you crawl into the cheap motel’s bed, clutching your pillow as you drift off.

---

Three hours later, Dean and Cas kept a lookout while Sam picked the lock to Y/N’s room. A handful of seconds after that, Sam was easing into the room, smirking at the post-it note on the table next to their room keys. “˜Take the keys only if you aren’t going to have loud, obnoxious sex next door. Or sing “Jump” by Kris Kross in the shower at ridiculous-o’clock in the morning.” Y/N and her damn post-it notes. Dean taps the post-it note by the switch, a soft chuckle coming out before he watched Cas slip into the room, closing the door behind him softly, eyeing where he knew she had placed the wardings before his gaze traveled to her sleeping form on the bed farthest from the door. At least she had finally fixed it from the previous hunt they all worked together on.

Sam tossed Dean his room key before shooting Cas a knowing look and slipping through the connecting door. Dean jerked his head towards the open door, Cas following behind with one last look towards Y/N.

“Gonna grab some food, then wake her up and go over everything. Gonna stay here?”

“Yes. I will stay.”

“Thought so.” Cas heard the rumble of the Impala retreat and he wandered back into Y/N’s room, sitting on the edge of the empty bed, listening to her deep, even breaths.

The moment he had met her, it’s like the world had shifted. Each movement she’d made while fighting the vampire was a dance. To someone else, it would seem not as rough, not as trained as Sam and Dean’s kind of fighting - but to him, it was a dance to which only you’d known the music. Three vamps were dead by your hand before he snapped out of it, smiting a few before standing beside Dean, waiting for an introduction. “Oh, by the way, this is Cas. He’s an angel,” Cas had fought not to shoot a sharp look at Dean, extending his hand out. You had taken his hand, squeezing it and smiling at him warmly.

Each encounter, ten in total - not counting this current case - had only made his feelings grow and consume him. Every smile, joke, show of your intelligence and the kindness that radiated from your soul had him longing for you. Desperate for every look and touch you would bestow on him.

He heard your breathing pattern change, watched you shift under the covers then settle back down just minutes before he heard the Impala once more outside.

Dean and Sam entered through their room door, leaving their jackets and taking quiet footsteps into her room. You shifted again, the smell dragging you from unconsciousness.

“Are those tacos?” The rough sleepiness of your voice had Cas filled with want. A want to lie beside you and hear your voice like that every morning. He quickly pushed those thoughts away, moving to stand.

“You bet your sweet little ass they are.” Dean watches as you shift to a sitting position, pushing the covers down to your lap and rub your eyes with the heel of your hand. You give Cas a lopsided smile before making grabby hands at the bag Dean’s holding. Sam sets a cup on the nightstand before sitting down beside you then digging into his own bag.

“Hi, Cas.”

“Hello, Y/N.”

“I see I got the warding right this time. It didn’t cause you any problems?”

“None whatsoever.”

“Good. Now, Dean, hand over the tacos.”

“This bag is all yours, princess.” He drops the bag into your lap before taking a chair from the table and flipping it around to straddle.

“You read the articles?” Sam manages around a mouthful of burrito and you get out a nod, shoving most of a street taco into your mouth as Sam’s lips twitch. “When was the last time you ate?”

“Uh...Donna made me some waffles before I left her house. Then I went to the motel and slept for a couple hours before I started heading here. Ooh! And I had about half a bag of jerky when I stopped just before the Ohio state line.”

“Told ya,” Dean told Sam. “That’s why I got fifteen of those little tacos. Dude looked at me like I was crazy.”

“You kinda are, Dean.” You shifted a little, gesturing to the other bed. “Sit, Cas. Please.” He nods and resumes his seat. You swallow down the fourth - or fifth? Sixth? - taco and unwrap another from its tinfoil prison. “Yeah, I read the articles. Well, two. The last one wouldn’t load all the way. I just assumed I was in a dead spot and you’d fill in whatever was missing. But the basics, of all three articles, are that suddenly people are seeing a headless horseman. Who chases them through the glen and to the bridge. Then disappears.”

“Yep.”

“It’s not possible.” You tell Dean with a heavy sigh, taking a big bite before softly groaning. This would have to be your last taco. For now.

“Y/N, we deal with impossible things all the time. I’m pretty damn sure it’s possible.”

“No, it’s not possible, Dean. Ichabod got rid of the Hessian spirit.”

“That’s a story.”

“You’ll be a story one day. Look, the reason you called me was that every hunter I’ve met and worked with knows how I am about Sleepy Hollow. When I tell you it isn’t possible, it isn’t possible.” You carefully wrap up what’s left of your wonderful taco bounty and push the covers away, moving to the small motel fridge.

Dean smirks when he sees Cas’s eyes go wide at seeing you aren’t wearing pants. And that sleep shirt may be four sizes too wide for you, but it’s not that long. They can all see gray and purple striped bikini-style underwear perfectly. You move from the fridge to your duffle, with a pair of dark sapphire eyes glued to your ass, squatting down to rummage through until you found the college notebook you always kept with you. You return to the bed, shuffling the covers haphazardly over your bare legs.

“Washington did take a lot of things from real life. The names of his main characters, the locations, and the old European stories of headless riders – like the Wild Hunt, The Wild Huntsman, etc. Ichabod Crane was an army captain. Only he wasn’t.”

“I thought he was a schoolteacher.”

“In the story, he is. But apparently, we’ve been bullshitting since we came to this country because Ichabod wasn’t an army captain, he was a Hunter. It took me nearly fifteen years to track down just where his actual resting place was,” You flip the notebook open nearly halfway before handing it to Sam. “And when I did track down a headstone, that’s all it was. He was cremated.”

“Lots of people are cremated,” Dean argues.

“Lots of headstones have the Aquarian Star carved into the stone?” You smirk at the eldest Winchester. “Didn’t think so.” You rise and return to your duffle again, tugging on a pair of clean skinny jeans. “It makes sense. An American hunter who is involved not only in the war for independence but trying to follow any orders he might have gotten from the Men of Letters regarding monsters. Not that they’d be terribly helpful since we were trying to cut ties with them - But he meets a writer who likes his name - enough to use it for his most famous tale. Washington Irving made Ichabod superstitious...but what if that was something he noticed in the captain? What if he saw the Aquarian Star or a Devil’s Trap and decided that was a great basis for his story?” You sit at the end of your bed, face to face with Dean. “Dean - this, this place - I’ve been dreaming about it since I was little. Not like other girls dreamed of being Disney princesses, though I did that too. But I can hear it. The leaves shaking in the breeze, the even breaths of the old horse and the soft hoofbeats on the old trail.” Dean is searching your face, trying to find the lie. “I know Ichabod crossed that bridge. I know he had something of the horseman’s. And once he was safely across, he burned it, getting rid of the spirit.” You sigh, letting your head fall into your waiting hands, tugging softly at your hair trying to clear out all the thoughts and sounds.

“I’ve asked you before if you were psychic. And you said no.”

“It’s not that. It’s more like a memory. Like I was there or close by.”

“Could you recognize it?” Sam speaks up from behind you, leaning forward enough that a few pieces of hair swing towards his eyes.

“I’ve been all over the area, searching for the place I saw. I’ve never found it.” You shrug, taking your bottom lip between your teeth.”I’ve got a map in my notebook, I always start at the bridge and wander from there... but I don’t know anymore.”

“Time changes how things look. I could alter how you would see the woods, how it would have appeared around Ichabod’s time.” Cas offers, standing and shifting minutely as her gaze settled on him.

“Really? That would be amazing Castiel!” You toss yourself at Cas, wrapping your arms around him tightly. His hands hesitate before patting your back a few times, silently memorizing every detail of this encounter. You pull away with a giant grin. “Let me grab my shoes and socks and we can head out, okay?” Castiel nodded at her words, his eyes darting to Dean who was sporting a knowing, wide grin. Cas narrowed his eyes at Dean as Sam handed the notebook back, heading between Dean and Cas to their room for his jacket, his own small smile at Cas and your exchange tugging at his lips.

“Ready?” You ask breathlessly, eagerness flowing from you, hurriedly pulling on your cotton-lined, dark blue faux leather jacket and sliding the room key into the inner pocket before zipping it up.

“I am always ready,” Castiel answers with a small smile, moving to hold the door open as the Winchesters come back through her room and follow behind her, still sporting those stupid smiles.

---

In the dark, nothing looked familiar. Not even with Cas’s long fingers wrapped around your wrist, altering your view of the autumn trees and the black path ahead.

Dean made the decision about forty minutes in that it’d be better to come back in the morning, after a visit to the police in Fed gear to get more information and a few hours’ sleep.

Sam and Dean began heading back to the Impala, talking softly while you hung back, Cas’s hand still warm on your wrist. The contact had your face flushing, happy it was dark enough to cover the way your gaze couldn’t settle on just one thing.

“I am sorry we could not discern anything more. Hopefully, tomorrow will bring more luck.”

“It’s okay Cas. At this point, I’m pretty used to disappointment when it comes to this.” You wave your free hand for emphasis at the surrounding trees. “Why do you think I remem -” You froze, hearing a breeze whip up as the leaves shudder around the pair of you, hoofbeats sounding off in the distance. Sam could be seen at the head of the path.

“You guys coming?!” You can see the shiny black paint of the car just behind him as you turn back to Cas, his fingers digging into your wrist as he tugged you behind him, the hoofbeats getting louder. “Dean! Gun it!” You hear Sam shout before Cas turns slightly, keeping his gaze trained further up the trail.

“Get to the car.” His order is firm, his Angel blade slipping from his coat sleeve, the silver metal shining in the faint moonlight. Your hands grasp his biceps through his trench coat, pressing yourself against his back as dirt flies around your lower body - Dean whipping Baby into the tight space just behind you.

That’s when he appeared.

Astride a huge black horse, it’s rider seemingly looking down upon you - even with his lack of head - as the orange and red leaves of autumn settled around the hooves of his steed.

The chill that ran down your spine was a mix of anticipation, nervousness, and the quick seeping cold of the fall night.

The rider let loose a deep chuckle, pulling up the dark red bag that hung loosely from his pommel as you feel big hands on your arms, tugging you from your place behind Cas. It just made you cling tighter to the angel, staring just past him.

And anger welled within you from so deep, you couldn’t even fathom where this burst came from. It was just suddenly there, as large and tangible as the rider.

Poor Cas didn’t even have time to react when you shoved him into Sam, running towards the horseman as rage flowed through your veins.

By the time Cas popped over to you, Dean and Sam hot on his feathery heels, you had yanked the rider from his horse and straddled his torso. The first cries from the man beneath you have Cas withdrawing his hands from your upper arms, peering curiously down at the being.

“Please! I just wanted to have some fun! Please ma’am! I’m only twenty-four!”

“You little motherfucker!!” You grunt, yanking the large black hood that blocked his head from view before dealing him a vicious right hook. “You little shit! Do you know what I’ve -- ma’am?!”

“Okay, that’s enough of that.” Dean snaps out as Cas hauls you off the guy. “Ya know, the lady that just handed your ass to you just drove nearly fifteen hours to get here. All because you were playing a prank.” Dean licks his lips, smirking down at the kid. “I should let her wail on you some more...”

“I swear I won’t do it again, sir! I’ll never pull another prank again! I swear! I swear!” The poor dumbass is nearly in tears by the end and you’re so zoned out by the sudden loss of your rage you can’t manage anything but feeling.

And Lord - what you’re currently feeling is the stuff of dreams.

Cas’s chest is pressed against your back, his arm still wound tightly around your middle as his heat warms you. All of him is lean, strong, warm and a particular part is hard. If you’d been in your right mind, you would have told yourself that it was just adrenaline or some other excuse, but in this mindset, where you were so beyond anger, you couldn’t give two shits. You lean against him, letting your head loll back to rest against his shoulder, taking in his ozone and rain scent as your eyes flutter closed. He tenses beneath you for a millisecond before his fingers tighten, holding you close.

---

The ride back to the motel is quiet. Dean tries to make a few lighthearted jokes, but you can’t stop thinking back to being in Cas’s embrace. Hell, he had to maneuver you into the Impala after the Winchesters had threatened the bastard who was running around scaring the locals and you’d followed them back to the car with the angel’s gentle grip on your elbow.

Lord, this was a mess. You were a mess. First falling for the angel and now loosing yourself in this feeling after the blunder that you’d been waiting your whole life for. For the thing you’d always been trying to track down.

Maybe you were crazy.

That seemed the most likely outcome.

You sigh heavily, looking at the orange, yellow and red-brown leaves that still clung resolutely to the trees in yellow streetlights of town, watching as they sway slightly in the light breeze of the night.

A warm, large hand covers your own, drawing your gaze to the man beside you - more importantly, it’s drawing you from your thoughts to just focus on him.

You’d known Cas for the last two years and had been almost immediately (and embarrassedly) smitten. Those navy eyes had drawn you in, but his naturally sweet and loving demeanor had sealed your fate. How life had screwed him over multiple times, how he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders, and how he longed for Heaven and for absolution. A year ago, was when you had finally admitted you were in love with the former garrison captain, the night he had shoved his hand into a werewolf’s chest with a snarl of “No!” stopping the wolf from shoving his claws any farther into your thigh.

Are you alright?

“Humm?” Oh. Yeah. I, uh, I’m alright. A little disappointed, but that’s nothing new regarding this.

You are thinking again.

I’m usually overthinking things, Cas. You drop your gaze to your lap, then glance back out the window, fingers tangling with Castiel’s.

It is a trait that makes you a very good hunter.

And a mess of a human.

A beautiful human. Your eyes go wide, snapping your head back to face Cas.

“You two lovebirds coming?” Dean teases as he put the car in park, throwing his arm over the back and winking at the two of you.

“In a minute,” Cas answers, allowing Dean and Sam ample time to exit before turning to you, his sapphire eyes locked at our entwined hands.

“Y/N.” You stare at his handsome face peering down, his hand clenching and loosening around your own. “So delicate.” You scoff, his eyes looking at you from under his lashes. “So beautiful.”

“Castiel.”

“I love how you say my name.” He confesses in a deep rumble, unable to keep the words from tumbling from his lips. “How soft you say it, like a breeze that flits softly through the leaves. Or how gently you pray it, even in your mind. Or how you’ll send images. Of a cup of hot chocolate when you want me beside you. Of the fall leaves basked in the bright moonlight when you switch to thinking about Sleepy Hollow. Sometimes you send them without thinking. Of the two of us sitting on a blanket by the bridge, where you remember throwing red leaves into the river below when you were five or six with your mom, sipping coffee in the early afternoon when there isn’t any traffic, just past any passerby’s line of sight.” His free hand comes up to cup your face. “I’d never pry into your mind. But I enjoy those moments when your mind wanders to me.” His face eases closer as your heart begins to race. “Gives me hope.” His breath fans over your face. “Am I right to have hope?”

“So right.” You mumble before you press your lips against his, sliding closer. Feeling his lips move against yours, pressing more eagerly before you pull away for air. The blue of his eyes is slowly being swallowed by black as his pupils dilate and your chest heaves. Your hands fist eagerly in his trench coat as you press your lips against his, your tongue teasing against the seam of his lips. Cas lets the hand by your jawline drop, wrapping it tightly around you, pressing you two chest to chest as his mouth moves eagerly against yours. The squeak you made when he hauled you upright turns into a sigh as his tongue runs along the seam of your mouth, wrapping your legs around his waist as you open to him.

Your pushing at his trench coat and suit coat, hungry for the angel.

“Dean.” His deep voice pants out.

“Uh, nope. That’s not my name.”

“I’m aware. I meant to say that Dean will certainly attempt bodily harm to us if we go any further in his car.”

“I think if Dean can have sex with an angel in his car, so can I.” You lean forward, capturing his lips again, cutting him off from any further arguments. He responded just as eagerly, finally releasing your joined hands and dragging your lower body closer to his own, shifting you until you were nearly lying on the bench seat.

“Off.” You mutter against his lips, pulling away for air as his lips kiss down your throat, the roughness of his stubble feeling soooo good against the sensitive skin. Cas shrugs out of his jackets before he settles atop you, his hand is pushing your shirt up, those warm, long fingers brushing over your hip then your stomach skimming higher as his lips return to yours briefly.

“So beautiful. My beautiful huntress.” You whine as he finally squeezes your left breast, his fingers brushing over your nipple. “I love you, Y/N. Your eyes, your soul,” He lets out a little grunt as he ruts his hips against yours, “all of you is wondrous and amazing.” You stop, your hands releasing the shirt you’d been unbuttoning to cup his face as those sapphire eyes stare down at you. The emotions swirling in those fathomless depths sent a thrill through you.

“I love you, Castiel.” As soon as you finish saying his name, his lips are pressed firmly against yours, his hands roaming everywhere suddenly - as if your confession had unleashed something within the angel. You chuckle slightly as you break apart, forgoing dealing with his shirt anymore and going straight for his belt buckle.

“WHOA!” A loud banging sounds on the roof, startling you, making you hide your face in Cas’s shoulder. “Not in Baby!!”

“You said I am a Winchester. All of you have had sex in this car.” You cough to cover up your laugh at what Cas snarked out to Dean.

“No. NO. NO!” Dean calls out loudly, bending down to peer into the car. “Sorry. Not gonna happen, Cas.”

“Fine.” He grits out before snapping his fingers. A soft mattress is at your back, and Cas’s weight comfortably pressing into you.

“Where were we?” You ask, nipping at his bottom lip while your hands undo his fly, fingertips sliding into the back of his pants, under his boxers, your hands digging firmly into his ass. You gasp as he rolls his hips just after.

“Need you now. Waited so long.”

“Fuck. Yes. Yes, Cas. Slow can wait until next time.” He gives a short nod, snapping to remove both your clothes. You couldn’t even bring yourself to feel embarrassed by your miles of stretch marks and the twenty extra pounds you were carrying. This tall, tan, beautiful and eternal being is looking down at you like you are the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

Cas kisses you softly, using his thigh to push your legs wider before settling between them. You kiss at his neck, sucking on the pulse point hard before nipping at his Adam’s apple, loving the groan you pull from him. Cas braces his arms beside your shoulders as you reach down between your bodies, guiding him to your core. You tease yourself first, rubbing his tip through your damp folds and tossing your head back with a moan as his grace appears, vibrating against your breasts - pulling, sucking and buzzing over every inch of skin - before slipping down to your clit. Cas moves forward in your hand before reaching down to bat your hand away, notching himself at your entrance before slowly sinking in.

”Oh.” You gasp out, revealing in the feeling of him stretching you. “Oh, fuck. Cas, Cas, I need you to move. Please.” He starts with shallow thrusts, letting you adjust while his mouth maps out your neck with open-mouthed kisses and a few hard bites. “Yes, angel.” You whimper out, digging your nails into his back, causing him to thrust harder.

“Do that again. Please.” Thank God, he sounds as wrecked as you. You obliged, digging your nails more into his back, closer to his spine now, causing him to buck up into you as you whisper “Angel” over and over again.

You tense then, your eyes glued to the air just past Cas’s shoulder. He freezes, looking over his shoulder.

“What?” You reach forward, still clinging to your angel, your fingers meeting soft, semi-opaque black feathers. You can mostly see through his wings, turning to glance at Castiel who is staring at you with wide cobalt eyes. “You can see my wings?” His deep voice is just above a whisper. A nod is all you can manage. “Have you ever seen them before?” You shake your head, his head dropping to your shoulder as you run your hand firmer against his wings causing Cas to thrust into you again, burying himself deeper in you. “Mine,” Cas growled, resuming thrusting against you. “Knew you were special.” He’s panting the words against your neck as he picks up speed, nearly shoving you up the bed as he lets himself go. “My human.”

“Yes, Castiel. All yours.” It takes a handful of seconds for you to reply, that warmth blossoming in your belly as his grace keeps buzzing over every sensitive spot on your skin, making it hard to remember the English language. “Angel.” You reply, one hand tugging at his dark locks to bring his mouth to yours, hungry to feel those chapped lips so eager against yours. You dissolve into whimpers and pants as he brings you closer to the edge, the motel bed creaking and hitting the wall as he grabbed your thigh, lifting your leg around his waist. “Fuuuuuck,” tears itself from your throat, your hand tightening in his hair as the other dug your nails into the smooth, warm juncture where his wings joined against his back. He snarled against your throat, moving to claim your mouth once more.

“Jesus!” You hear through the wall as a few loud knocks sound against it before a door slams loudly. Cas ignores Dean’s outburst, digging his knees into the mattress to get more leverage as you tightened around him.

“So perfect. So tight. Squeezing around me so good, Y/N.” How he can even string together more than obscenities and your name is beyond you at this point, leaning up to return the favor of marking his neck as you cling harder to Cas, so close to the edge.

“Cas.” You whine, clenching hard around your angel as your vision whites out. “CASTIEL!” He manages a half-dozen sloppy thrusts before he’s coming, chanting your name like a prayer, and his thrusts slowing, riding out both your orgasms.

“I,” He swallows audibly by your ear, pressing a few errant kisses against your throat and jaw. “I love you. Thank you.” He pushes a few pieces of hair away from your sweaty forehead, peering down at you with such affection it makes your chest tight.

“I love you too, Castiel. And, uh, thank you too.” He chuckles at the awkwardness as he moves to kiss you properly, easing out of you before nuzzling against your throat.

“I know this is not in the usual order of things,” Cas begins, snapping to clean away the mess before lying on his back, letting you curl up against him and tightening his arm around you. “But could we, uh, perhaps, maybe -”

“Get coffee?”

“Yes. And perhaps dinner?” You chuckle, tracing random patterns on his chest.

“Cas, you don’t eat.” You prop yourself up on your elbow, smiling down at him. He opened his mouth to answer before your lips press firmly against his in a quick kiss. “Coffee is great. Cuddling and maybe another round or two later?”

“I am very much in agreement with that,” Cas mutters, pulling you down into a deeper kiss. “After you get some sleep, beloved.” You ease back down, head on his chest and curling against him you hum in agreement. You drift off to sleep as Cas strokes his fingers through your hair.

---

“Beloved.” A soft kiss is pressed against your shoulder before a light nip. “I have something planned for us this morning,” Cas mumbles against your skin, his fingers digging into your side lightly.

“Mmmm.” You reply, pressing your face harder into the pillow.

“I have started the shower for you.” His presses a few more kisses down your neck and shoulder. “But you must rise.” You shuffle and wiggle until you are facing Cas, trying to pry your unwilling eyes open some more.

“Are you a morning person? Cause if we’re gonna date, that’s gotta stop. I’m only bringing this up because, while rounds two and three were very, very amazing, I really wanna sleep in, Cas.”

“Thank you for commenting on my sexual prowess. And it is nearly ten thirty in the morning. I believe I have let you sleep in sufficiently.”

“Oh.” You pause, pursing your lips in thought. “Alright. Okay.” You push yourself into a sitting position, holding the sheet to your chest. “You win.” A yawn escapes as you ease away from your lover. You lean down, grabbing his trench coat off the floor for the quick jaunt to the bathroom.

A deep growl emanates from his chest as he presses you against the wall.

“You look very sexy in my coat.”

You chuckle, pressing a few kisses along his jawline, working your way to his lips.

“I think you’re insatiable.” You murmur as his hand runs through your hair, piercing you with those galaxy-riddled blue eyes.

“When it comes to you, yes.” Cas purrs before kissing you hard. “The shower will get cold. Go bathe.”

You do as he asks, exiting from the shower a handful of minutes later, teeth brushed and mostly awake.

Cas is dressed and waiting at the door, an eager smile tugging at his lips.

“Ready?” He asks as you approach, rolling your neck before smiling kindly at him.

“Yeah.” You lean up to brush your lips against his in a barely there kiss, letting him pull you tight against his body as you disappear from the motel room.

---

The sun is a lot brighter than you expect, yellow and orange leaves dancing around your feet as you take in your surroundings.

You’re by the covered bridge, on the “safe” side - the side that once you’re on, the Hessian ghost is through and his powers end - with a large plaid blanket spread out a few feet further down the embankment, just out of sight of any potential passerby.

“I wanted to make your vision, the one that always makes me happiest to see, a reality.” He presses a kiss to the side of your head then leads you forward, letting you drop down to the blanket and get situated before joining you. He elects to sit behind you, letting your back rest against his chest as he hands you a large to go cup.

“Does this also count as our coffee date?”

“Yes. I would like to believe it does.” You turn your head to look up at Cas, your head right by his shoulder as he looks down at you with a bright, white smile. His eyes dart over to the cup and you wrinkle your nose slightly, raising your head to look at the white cup.

My Mate, Y/N   Is scrawled is Castiel’s handwriting, and you tear up.

“I, I didn’t mean to make you cry.” You turn halfway, planting your hand on his chest and sniffling.

“Good tears, honey. Good tears.” He relaxes under your hand, reaching up to cup your face and bring you in for a deep kiss. “Also, I’ve read enough lore in the Batcave to know seeing your wings without my eyeballs frying is a pretty,” You peck his lips. “Big.” Another kiss. “Deal.” Another. “Feathers.”

“And you're - you are okay with this?”

“Yeah.” You settle against his chest again, sipping your rich hot chocolate with a sigh. “Are you okay with this?”

“Far more than okay. I am glad you’re my mate. I believe ecstatic is the word - it is the word Sam used this morning to describe my demeanor.” A small breeze ruffles your hair, his words soft right by your ear, but you can hear the smile in his voice.

“How’d, uh, how’d that meeting go this morning?”

“Dean mentioned considering silencing sigils. I told him we have all had to endure hearing his lovemaking through the walls of various establishments but that it would not happen again. Sam laughed and Dean shut up.”

“Nice.” You snicker out, turning your head to press a quick kiss to his jaw before you turn back, watching as handfuls of leaves flow down the little river below where you two sat. “This is beyond perfect. Thank you, Castiel.” You take a deep breath, loving the scent of earth, of the slight decay of leaves and the warm scent of the angel you were in love with surrounding you. “I should send that kid a gift basket.”

“For punching him?”

“For getting us together. Oh, and can you remind me to order some caramels from that place in Wyoming? I owe Donna.”

[peterparkerneverland]

On The Edge: A Bucky Barnes Series (Part 2)

Part 1 Here

Plot: Everyone has nightmares. You show up to school in your underwear, or you get kidnapped, or there’s a purple dinosaur chasing you around your neighborhood. Those sort of things. But the nightmares that torment the avengers aren’t like that. They’re heroes, they throw themselves in the scariest most dangerous real life disasters in the hopes of stopping them. But they can’t save everyone. Innocent people die. And those images stay in their minds forever. Pictures seemingly depicted from horror movies twist their dreams into terror, you’ve seen them with your own eyes. Because that’s your power. You can calm anyone in any situation with a simple touch of your hand, the only catch, you absorb the panic that has overcome them. The memories, the emotions, the moments you take to keep them calm, become your own. And there’s no one to take them from you. 

Warnings: mentions for anxiety, language

Characters: I mention nearly all the avengers at some point

//

“Woah, be careful. Gotta take it slow” Bruce instructs all doctor like. 

“I’ve been asleep for a week, I’m fucking starving” you mumble between mouthfuls of chinese food. 

“You’re gonna throw up (y/n)” Steve chuckles from next to you, Jeopardy playing on the television. 

You reach over to push his shoulder playfully, but he flinches away. You know he doesn’t mean to, that it’s a reflex, meant to protect you not him. But still. You’ve gotten awfully good at reading emotions even without using your powers, and you can sense his wavering cautiousness. 

“I’ve got gloves on Rogers geez, and you’re supposed to be the fearless avenger” you say jokingly, trying to lighten the blanket of tension that has suddenly fallen over the living room. 

Every inch of you, except your head, is covered in a stretchy fabric with a metallic outside and a warm fleece inside, something Tony put together while you were sleep. He says it’s just a prototype and he’s working on a better one, one with some cool features, but for now this is what you wear twenty four seven. It keeps you from touching anyone and anyone from touching you. 

“Sorry, sorry, I just don’t...” he lets his voice trail off, trying to regain his casual composure, but coming off as stiff. 

“It’s fine” you whisper, standing to your feet and taking your plate of half eaten food to the kitchen, appetite suddenly lost. 

Hushed whispers find their way to you as you walk to your room. Whispers of worry, safety concern, next steps for a future you don’t seem to have any part in. A feeling that has become terribly familiar to you bubbles up in your chest, coursing through the veins throughout your entire body. 

Anger.

You hate how well you’ve come to know it. You begin to move before your brain even knows where you’re going. Take a right, down the stairs, a left past the gun range Tony installed forever ago, down one more small flight, and you’re at the steel doors of the gym. You began coming down here more and more at night when the memories got bad, and the emotions became too much. You’d run on the treadmill for hours on end, imagining every horrible moment you’d absorbed being released along with your steady breaths. Although you are weaker now, having been out of it for a week, you shove the doors open anyways. 

But there is already someone inside. 

Bucky. You haven’t seen or spoken to him since that night, not that either one of you has any idea what to say. Even now, standing three feet away as he runs at unbelievable speed on the treadmill, you are unable to form words. But it’s not like you can just get on the treadmill next to him and start casually running as if nothing has happened between the two of you and this is just a normal dandy day at the avengers hq. That would be weird right? 

Before you have time to make that decision, you hear the machine whir to a stop, and he turns to face you. His hair has fallen in front of his eyes as he tosses a towel across his shoulders, although there isn’t a drop of sweat on his shirtless body. The empty water bottle in his hand drops to the floor with an echoing clatter. You both are still. 

“Sorry” you say without really meaning to. It’s the first word that pops into your head. 

“For what?” seemingly confused. 

“For...for...for scaring you” is all you’re able to come up, kind of vague and not really making sense, “Just now I mean. I snuck up on you, I didn’t mean to. I didn’t know you were in here” you take a short breath, “And I’m sorry for scaring you that night. I should’ve been more careful, should’ve stopped you-”

“You couldn’t have it was my fault I wasn’t thinking” he says in an apologetic stream of words. 

“But that’s the thing” you interject, “I was thinking. I could’ve stooped you. We were both leaning in and I could see your arms start to move before you even touched me. I knew what was going to happen and I didn’t stop it because...because I just...sometimes-”

“You wish people weren’t afraid to be close to you” his voice nothing but a floating whisper. 

The anger that once tightened your fists melts away into something loose and free falling. It can be so easy to believe that no one in the world feels the things your feelings. That this isolation is unique to you. But here he is, so close this whole time. Two people alike in their loneliness. There’s something so comforting in his understanding.

“Yes, yes exactly” you breathe a sigh of relief, “Everyone is afraid to sit near me, to walk next to me, to touch me. And, for just a moment, you weren’t. You took my hand and squeezed it gently and I felt that. I felt your hand in mine, your warmth, your comfort, unlike anything I’d ever felt before and I just...I wanted that moment. Because, as stupid as it sounds, I dream of moments like that. Nothing crazy, just holding hands, or a hug, casual things everyone else takes for granted that I’ve never experienced before” 

You take a sharp breath, closing your eyes to try and relax. Your heart has begun beating much too fast and much too loud and your find yourself wondering if he can hear it. Your knees start to tremble as it becomes increasingly harder to stand up. Tony told you to take it easy for a while, your muscles have literally been doing nothing for a week and need time to regain the tissue they’ve lost. Maybe you should’ve listened. 

You see a moment of darkness and feel your body crashing, seeming to take and endless amount of time to hit the ground. Then, a feeling you don’t recognize spreads through your back, some strong force holding you up.

Bucky has his arm around you, pulling you against him, his face mere inches from yours. You place your hand on his chest and blink away the dark spots in the corners of your vision, trying to gage what is happening. He holds a look of such strong concern, of such gentle caring, you feel tears well in your eyes. 

The sensation of his body against yours, his warmth still palpable through the suit that protects you from absorbing anymore of his mind, loosens something inside you. 

“Are you okay?” he asks. 

You take a shaking breath, “No”

And he is embracing you. His arms hold you protectively against him and, only mimicking what you’ve studied in movies, your wrap your arms around him as well, hoping this is what a hug is supposed to be like. It certainly feels right. 

“I’m not okay either” he whispers against your ear.

Everything about him feels safe. Is this what hugging always feel like? Is this how some people get to feel everyday? Why don’t more people do this on a regular basis? 

Slowly, his hold loosens and you slip from his arms. 

“We don’t need to be okay right now” he assures, “But we will be. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but someday. And I’ll be here for you until that someday comes” 

And you believe him. 

//

Tag List:

@owllson​ @nairobi13​ @chuckennuggets1213​ @jessicamueschenig​ @thatsparklything​ @drinkapplejuicecuzojwillkillyou​ @therealcanadianqueen​ @sementnativa​ @goodtanaba​ @meredithicus

[hawkofflight]

20 for Regan?

20 for Regan! “did you just make that sound?”

Thank you!!————————————-

Rick never really admitted the attraction to himself. He kept it relatively concealed, only really an issue when the damned man was actually around him- it wasn’t something he was proud of, or really wanted to expand on. He couldn’t have Negan. He didn’t want Negan…even if Rick could have him. Rick knew that the other man liked to toy around with him. He liked to get his attention by at first, roughly grabbing his shoulder, pulling him- but now, now he’d figured out how to assert his dominance. Assert it to everyone. “Hey Alexandria! What a beautiful mornin’- hope you got my shit, or else, well… we all remember the last time that happened, eh?” And he’d say it all with an arm around Rick’s waist, pulling him close, sometimes patting his cheek, lingering hands. He made sure it was of course in front of everyone. Every single person needed to know that he fucking OWNED Rick fucking Grimes. He got more and more touchy, and that’s where Rick’s hard lines began to blur. It didn’t put him in crisis, more often than not he’d just get damn blushy, biting his lip and keeping his eyes cast downwards. Perfect, though Negan did like seeing those eyes, hell yeah he did. They always looked so tense, except when he was with his kids, his fucking girlfriend- she was all fine and dandy, super hot samurai chick, really everything that Rick wasn’t, besides the hot part. If Negan thought about it seriously, yeah, Rick was sexy, attractive, downright cute when he was scared into submission, but not hot. Pretty, pouty, a real southern doll.

But for Rick, he didn’t want to get into thinking about the way he felt when the older man played with his hair, teasingly. When he pulled Rick by his waist, grabbed his hips, touched his face, and once kissed his forehead after a particularly good haul that Alexandria had provided. He’d spoken quietly, near threateningly- “good boy, you know how to make me happy, don’t you?” Rick had nearly lost it then, right about to melt into the touch and just eat up all the affection, but he held back.

Today it was unexpected, Rick was exhausted, busy- touch starved because Michonne was away at hilltop currently. He had Judith with him all day, and of course as much as he’d love to be a stay at home dad, he just couldn’t. There were things to do, people to care for. So if it were a damn normal world, ‘bring your daughter to work day’ Is what he’d classified it until Olivia came back and took the toddler off of his hands. And then the saviors came, right on time, their damn truck and all, Negan tagging along again with the bat, that stupid fucking bat. Rick didn’t even notice the footsteps inside his fucking house, he was trying to make himself a decent lunch that wasn’t canned turkey, and for once, his attempt was paying off. Boxed kraft. Hell yeah.

“Not gonna come out and even fuckin’ greet me, Rick? I’d expect better of you. Holy fucking shit, is that mac n’ cheese? I want a box, damn. Where’d you get it? That’s already made and I’m sure your little one would like it too. I won’t take her portion.” This man rambles on and on, he just never shut up. Never. At some point, he zoned out, staring over Negan’s shoulder through the window to see what was going on outside. Seemed routine enough. What snapped him out of it was a leather clad hand grabbing his face- Negan’s body was close, too close for comfort. Rick had to hold back again with those pretty blue eyes looking up, directly at the other. He was a good four or five inches shorter, Negan did look more threatening this close. “You there, Rick? Because you know when someone is talking to ya, it’s real fuckin’ rude to ignore them.”After that was said, he immediately nodded, looking down and mumbling a ‘yes’. The next thing happened so fast that he could hardly comprehend what exactly happened, but he heard himself lose it, a full on moan when Negan shoved him against the counter, hair pulled roughly in his fist. A real, obvious moan. “Ho-ly… did you just?” Rick was already pink in the cheeks, and Negan’s booming laugh was not helping. He was just going to be humiliated by this guy. “Rick, doll eyes, look at me, sweets.” The pet names did it and Rick glanced up. “Did you just make that sound? Did Rick fucking Grimes, leader of this town- just moan when Big Bad Scary Negan gave his hair a tug?” Negan did it again, collecting more hair in his fist now, tugging and chuckling when he got the same reaction, a sweet, low moan. “Damn, I wanna hear more of that, I knew you were a pretty boy down under that macho shit, but fuck, that was slutty as hell in summer.” And it was true. Ricks moans when he really let go were loud, breathy and oh so sweet. “I don’t hear you saying no, does that mean I can do this, sweetheart?” The pet names were also a huge weakness of his. ‘This’, was Negan’s hands coming under Rick’s thighs, fucking /lifting/ him onto the kitchen island, his body positioned between his legs, hands tight around his hips. Negan wouldn’t shut up now either. “I’ve always wanted to do that… grab those pretty thighs. So pretty, I wanna see more of em’ but is there much to see? I feel like there isn’t, you know, because of these skin tight fuckin’ jeans. They hug you so nicely, where the hell did you find them?” This praise was getting to the younger of the two, and he was letting Negan take more and more by the minute. He submitted so quickly, it even made Negan a bit surprised. “God almighty.” Rick felt cool, firm hands press under his shirt, and he REALLY couldn’t help but shiver and sigh then, pressing under the fabric. So different than anything he’s had before.

“You’re so responsive, damn. Could just pick you up and take you home, huh? You’d like that, don’t even try to deny it. You’re a real pillow princess if I’ve ever seen one.” The way Negan then gripped his ass made Rick practically whine. If Negan was gonna be this much of a tease… “Just touch me already.” Rick hissed between clenched teeth and a locked jaw, knuckles white with the death grip on the ledge of the counter. “Is that…Rick Grimes asking me to get him off? Well, fuck if I don’t take this opportunity. I wish I could record this but I bet you’d be into that.” Before Rick could even protest the words, his jeans were on the floor, his knees pushed apart, and his face hidden in Negan’s shoulder. He couldn’t really tell what damn Grimes was saying, but he nonetheless enjoyed the little grunts and whines whenever Negan stroked the right way, or pulled his hair, forcing him to look up. “God-fuck… can’ believe m’ lettin’ shit- y'do 'is…” it was all slurred, and he couldn’t always understand the words but it sounded an awful lot like begging. “That’s it, doll. That’s it… good.” And when he felt Rick’s body tense, he knew he was coming from the shudder and the short, loud yelp, followed by heavy panting, gradually slowing down. “Now what do you say to me, babydoll?” Negan was using his hand that was not covered in cum to stroke up and down ricks back, urging the words. “Thank…thank you…” Negan grinned, biting his lip with that smirk that always appeared. “Good boy.”

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