#and it’s also why i’m posting this in the dead of night instead of waiting until ppl are actually online

[acrobattack]

this would fix them trust me

[sanjisleggy]

imagine being loved by me (sanji x reader) [pt2]

PART 1

a/n: here’s part 2 to ‘welcome to cupid island’ :D yippee! lowkey i wanna turn this into a larger series but i have no idea what i'd wanna add lmao but if people are interested in more of this reader x sanji dynamic i’d be happy to consider :3c imma add a poll at the end of this post to see what’s the reception like. anyway pls enjoy! 

also pls send some zoro requests if u have any, ty :3c

contents: some suggestive themes but nothing explicit (16+ only ty!), jealous sanji, very insecure sanji, angst to fluff, hurt/reverse comfort

wc. 2.25k

wanna be on my taglist?

i. 

he imagines you would have an amazing life.

he imagines after you accept the proposal, you would be transformed into a beautiful queen, both regaled by your countless servants and beloved by your people. he can practically see right in front of him how King Aphr would worship the very ground you walked on, kiss the soles of your feet and the palms of your soft hands every night before ravishing you under the sheets until your eyes fill with tears of pleasure–things a mere pirate cook could never provide. 

he imagines in a few years you would have two beautiful children: a girl and a boy, of course. they would be spitting images of you–or maybe one of them would have their father’s fluffy brown hair or gorgeous eyes. whatever the genetic combination, Sanji doesn’t doubt they would be absolutely beautiful solely because they came from you. 

he imagines you living the life you deserve above everyone else on this godforsaken planet: happy, loved and safe from the dangers that come with life on the sea. you’d live a long life and be left wanting for nothing.

it’s a life Sanji cannot give you.

“oh. no, thanks.” your response to the kneeling crown prince is curt with your mouth hidden behind your hand to obscure the fact that you’re mid-chew. “i’m not interested.”

the matter-of-factness of your tone rips Sanji straight out of his self-deprecating nightmare as his head snaps in your direction. still holding his hand, you give it a soft squeeze as you maintain eye contact with your latest suitor. the entire restaurant is dead silent and even the wait staff are frozen in place, trays of freshly prepared gourmet food left to slowly cool before they can even be touched.

the Prince doesn’t hide his disappointment but he takes it better than any of the Straw Hats anticipated. if anything, they were all prepared for a fight but instead, the man simply apologises for disrupting your dinner and takes his leave. once he’s gone, you swallow your food before turning to meet Sanji’s eyes with your own. you can’t help but feel a pang in your chest when you see how teary he looks; you give his hand another squeeze before bringing the back of it to your lips and give him a soft kiss.

“we can talk about this later,” is the message your eyes convey to him and he nods in response.

although business gradually goes back to normal and the usual dining room chatter resumes, you and your group finish the rest of your meal with an odd sense of awkwardness encompassing the establishment. much to your–and Sanji’s–pleasure, however, it seems that your rejection of the Prince’s proposal is enough to ward off any other suitors, at least for the rest of dinner.

ii.

whilst some of your crewmates opt to sleep in early or explore the night market, you and your usual group of drinking buddies head to the hotel’s bar. out of habit, you find a table with four seats for Nami, Robin, Zoro and yourself, though you soon realise your mistake when you notice Sanji’s still holding onto your hand.

“what? not gonna chase skirts tonight, shitty cook?” Zoro speaks your mind. the blond chef’s grip on your hand tightens slightly.

“no, of course not, you stupid mosshead.” Sanji doesn’t elaborate any further but everyone knows the reason why: news of your rejection of the Prince hasn’t spread far enough yet, it seems, and already new faces are peering your way, presents in hand.

less than an hour passes and you’re not the only person who’s been approached by suitors: every one of your Straw Hat companions has been accosted at least three times. you try to keep count but eventually lose track when you reach double digits.

“it seems like they’re more desperate as the week comes to an end,” Robin observes, mumbling into her glass after turning down her fifteenth admirer. 

“desperate’s putting it lightly,” Zoro replies, growing more visibly annoyed as the minutes pass and he can’t seem to enjoy one drink without a man or woman shyly sneaking up on him with more homemade cookies. “they’re even going after the shitty cook, they must be more than desperate,” he adds with a snort, clearly happy to take up any opportunity possible to rile up your boyfriend.

though you can tell Zoro’s ‘joke’ bugs him, Sanji remains quiet, opting to just shoot the swordsman a sharp glare from across the round table.

“here comes another one,” Nami groans, praying she’s not the target.

unfortunately for you, her wish comes true.

Zoro’s guard dog comparison from earlier in the day rings true yet again when the man taps your shoulder to get your attention. before you can even turn to look at what they look like, Sanji’s head snaps around first. although there’s an unmistakable look of pure rage in his eyes as he scowls at the man that makes the suitor almost instantly break out into a cold sweat, the cook’s grip on your hand remains the same gentleness as always.

“fuck off!” Sanji barks, subtlety be damned. your companions each react in a similar manner, choking on their respective drinks to some degree. you even catch Zoro murmuring to himself, “goddamn.” valuing his life, the stranger turns tail and disappears in a matter of seconds.

half a minute passes and the same bitter expression is stuck to your beloved’s face. your free hand reaches up to his head before you run your fingers through his soft hair. the gesture alone seems enough to snap him back to reality as his scowl melts away to be replaced by a small smile. Sanji closes his eyes and lets out a breath, tensed shoulders relaxing as you continue to caress his head. your hand slowly trails down his face before stopping to rest on his shoulder, your palm wrapped around the base of his neck, thumb rubbing along the edge of his sharp jawline. 

your gentle ministrations send his heart into overdrive, the fragile organ threatening to beat so fast and so hard that it shatters his ribcage into nothingness. despite having known you for so long, he can’t ever seem to get used to your love.

“what a coincidence seeing you here, miss (Y/N),” a familiar voice speaks from behind you. from the looks on your crewmates’ faces, you can already tell you’re not the only one sick and tired of this island’s tradition. before anyone–even Sanji–can react to the blatant interruption, you stand up abruptly and turn around to face Prince Aphr. donning a smile, he’s dressed differently than when you first met him at dinner but his expensive clothes only serve to annoy you even further.

“i’ll only say this one more time, your highness,” you say through gritted teeth, days’ worth of built up irritation finally spilling over the edge and the unlucky target of your wrath just has to be the son of the ruler of the island–but you find it hard to care. “i’m not interested and i’ll never be interested. now, please leave me and my friends alone.”

Sanji stares up at you from his seat with his eyes wide and lips slightly parted. the last time you looked this angry was when an enemy pirate kicked Chopper like a soccer ball–and you’d gone on an absolute rampage back then. however, it seems that due to Prince Aphr’s lack of experience witnessing such devastation, he chooses to press on. as much as Sanji would love to diable jambe his royal ass, both him and the rest of the Straw Hats present at the table know you’re fully capable of handling this yourself.

“may i at least ask what it might take for you to even consider my proposal?” the prince asks. he’s either an extremely convincing actor or he’s genuinely so dense he doesn’t actually realise you’re in a relationship with the man right beside you.

“nothing.” your response seems to take him aback. “you could offer me the entire world on a silver platter and my answer would still be the same. my family is my crew and i’ve already met the love of my life.”

Sanji realises at that moment that a small part of him expected you to give an answer the prince could fulfill. when the finality of your words hits him, he can’t help the tears welling up in his eyes as his heart sinks to impossibly low depths. 

you said it all with such ease, so little effort. have i ever done the same for you? what kind of man have i been?

iii. 

Sanji twiddles his thumbs as he sits on the king sized bed, listening intently to the sound of the shower running. when it stops and he hears the slight creak of the shower door opening, he’s overcome with a great sense of anxiety, knowing that time will not stop just because he needs more time to gather his thoughts.

a few minutes later, you exit from the bathroom in a fluffy white robe, the smell of your shampoo washing over the entire hotel room. with a satisfied hum, you crawl across the bed to sit beside him.

“so,” you say gently as you grab one of his hands to play with his long fingers, “you wanna talk about anything?” the moment his eyes meet yours, all the words he painstakingly prepared to say slip right through his fingers. 

you’re so beautiful.

Sanji opens his mouth but is unable to speak, he can only breathe and stare as you patiently wait for him to let everything out. 

i don’t deserve you.

you tilt your head slightly and hum, as though trying to remind him that you’re still there. you look at him with such pure adoration, he wonders if you’re even looking at him. 

but i want you and i want your love more than anything. so please–

“don’t leave me,” Sanji finally manages to choke out, hot tears now streaming down his face. days’ worth of anger and worry finally catches up to him and he can’t do anything but slump forward to bury his face in your midsection. his lanky arms curl around your waist in a desperate attempt to hold you there, just in case you decide you don’t want him anymore.

“hey, who said anything about leaving you, my sweet boy?” you say with a light chuckle but it does nothing to hide the heaviness in your voice. you wrap your arms around his head, hugging him closer to your stomach as he sobs into your bathrobe. running your fingers of one hand through his hair just the way he likes, you continue, “what makes you think that?”

“Prince Aphr can give you everything.” Sanji pulls his head away just enough to speak clearly but not far enough to break away from your warm embrace. “and i can’t. up until we arrived here–ever since we started dating–i couldn’t even stop flirting with women right in front of you and for what?!”

you shush him when he starts to raise his voice and you feel his fingers tighten their grip on the back of your bathrobe. “it’s okay–”

“no, it’s not,” he cuts you off. “how am i supposed to call myself yours if i can’t even treat you with the respect you deserve? i’m sorry, (Y/N), i’m so sorry i took for granted how open you are with the way i am around other women. just seeing the way so many people wanted to steal you away these past few days, and how you turned them all down, made me realise i’ve been a shitty boyfriend–”

deciding that you’ve heard enough, you lean back to separate his face from your body and use your hands to gently tilt his head up so that your eyes meet. Sanji stares almost pitifully up at you, his own hands still holding on for dear life onto your robe as his long legs splay out behind him across the large bed.

“you’re far from a shitty boyfriend, my love,” you sniffle, feeling tears of your own forming in your eyes, “you take such good care of me. you feed me anything i want, fuss over me when i’m sick, protect me in battle. you always let me shower first aboard the Sunny so i get all the hot water.” cupping his face in between your palms, you rub the pads of your thumbs across his cheeks, wiping away his tears. “you look at me like i hung the stars and the moon in the sky,” you say with a choked laugh, unable to help feeling a bit embarrassed admitting such a thing aloud, “sometimes i don’t even know how to live up to that.”

Sanji takes in a shaky breath as he nuzzles his face into your right hand so you lightly scratch his scalp with your left. the sensation pleases him so much he swears he nearly starts purring. 

“how did i get so lucky?” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your palm.

“how did i get so lucky?” you reply with a laugh before leaning down to brush your lips against his forehead. 

already Sanji feels the aching in his heart slowly fade away, leaving behind a soreness that’s sure to persist but he’s certain that it, too, will disappear over time as long as you’re by his side. 

–

tags: @mlpandr63 @wifeofladyqu @strawberrysanzu @qui-sap @secretlife028 @the-avengers-not-the-nazis @peachycat17 @xiaothedgyemo @chaseyui @certain-tragedies @amei-draws-stuff @carmen-skullz @cobainlover @lara-christensen-me @shondlenoodle @teewon @makingmammonmoves @carmendanny2

[so-long-soldier-writes]

Gorgeous

kai parker x reader (both 18+!) (shy!virgin!kai)

summary: troubled by his own body, kai's afraid to go all the way with you. that is, until you confess you love him regardless of the way he looks, giving him just the confidence he's needed all along.

tags: friends to lovers, kissing, minor fingering, shy!kai, mentions of child abuse / physical abuse [I can't just write a normal fic, can I?], implied s3lf h4rm, emotional hurt / comfort, confessions, making out, blow jobs, virgin!kai, top / bottom switching, reader is a little freaky, nipple sucking, pet names, aftercare, cuddling

word count: 5.5k

a/n: sooooo... this has been sitting in my wips for over a year. for some reason, i just never posted it. but unfortunately, i have work tomorrow, so i'll be dead as a doornail that evening, and the work i wanted to post isn't done yet, so i'll post this in the meantime. that being said, i think i'm finally starting to get back in the swing of things. i'm still working on requests as well as other stuff, but i'm coming back slowly!

also, if this idea is totally unusual, that's probably why it sat in my drafts for a year. it's a year old fluffy smut with a strange premise. bare with me. 😅

The minute you get back from work, you collapse onto the nearest chair and groan.

“You okay there?”

Looking up, you see Jo and her boyfriend on the couch watching a movie. Oops.

“Sorry. Yeah. Long day. Where is everyone?”

“Our dads went to the flooding company people to try and get that situation covered, and our moms took the kids to the park.”

“My brother too?”

“Your brother, but not mine.”

“Cool,” you give the girl a thumbs up. “Hey Cody.”

Jo’s boyfriend looks over at you, “hey, Y/N.”

“Alright, I’m gonna go shower.”

“Okay!”

You make your way up the stairs slowly, wondering where Kai is. Poking your head in his room, you see he’s not in there, but you don’t hear him anywhere else. Oh well. You’ll find him after your shower, because you really, really need that shower. 

In your room - also the Parker’s guest room - you grab a new set of clothes and your hairbrush, before going into the guest bathroom in the hallway. See, you and the Parkers are neighbors and have become close family friends. Though one night after a really bad storm, your basement flooded, as did several other houses nearby. This is a problem Mr. Parker could easily fix with magic, but considering the electric and flooding companies know your house was one of the ones affected, he can’t do anything without revealing his coven. Instead, your family temporarily moved in with his until the county could fix the issue.

It’s been two weeks, no progress. But you’re not complaining; you get to spend more time with Kai - your best friend who you’ve recently started dating in secret. 

As you’re busy undressing and getting the water ready, you don’t hear Kai come in from outside. The boy stands in the kitchen, staring at nothing in particular.

“Is everyone still out?” He hesitantly asks Jo.

“Yeah. But Y/N came home.”

“Oh. Where is she?”

“Mhm, went upstairs.” Then she snaps her fingers, “oh wait! She said she’s taking a shower. So don’t bother her. Just go to your room and wait for her to come out. Don’t be weird.”

Kai scrunches his nose. As if he’d ever make you uncomfortable on purpose. “Okay, thanks.”

Quietly, he makes his way upstairs. When he hears the water running, he bites his lip. Don’t be weird, Jo had just said. But she doesn’t know how close you two actually are. Swallowing hard, he slowly turns the knob to the bathroom door, trying not to alert Jo to which door he’s opening. Inside, the hot water steams up the mirrors, making it hard to see, but he can vaguely point out your figure through the glass. 

“Y/N?”

You hear him and pop your head out of the door, “Kai! Hi. Come in,” you gesture for him to enter all the way.

He does, then shuts the door just as quietly. “I don’t mean to bug you, I just wanted to make sure you were here. Jo said you were, but…” he shrugs.

“You’re not bugging. Come on, join me.”

“What?”

“In here.”

“But… I’m wearing jeans.”

“Well then take them off, you goof.”

“I-I… um.”

Deciding to give him privacy, you stick your head back in the shower and rinse out the shampoo. The whole time you’re finishing your shower routine, you assume Kai’s going to join you at any time. You haven’t gone that far in your relationship yet, but he is a teenage boy, and he does love kissing you every chance he gets.

You two have done more than kissing, of course, but just haven’t gone all the way. And there’s plenty of reasons for that: too many people in this damn house, someone might walk in, someone might overhear, etc. etc. etc. But aside from the obvious reasons, you can’t help but feel like there’s also reasons that Kai isn’t sharing. 

He likes to spend a lot of your time together practically worshipping your body. His lips and fingers have touched nearly every part of you, but he isn’t too keen on letting you do the same. 

Kai holds you in place with a hand on your neck. His lips are attached right below, sucking hard enough to leave a mark. His other hand’s busy farther down - two fingers pumping in and out of you quickly. You bite your lip hard to not moan as you cum on his hands. He continues to finger fuck you through your orgasm, not letting up until your body stills. Then, he tastes one finger before putting the second in your mouth. You suck on it, eyes trained on him the whole time. 

“My turn. Let me make you feel good, Kai.”

“You are. I like watching you like this.”

“No, I know. But I want to taste you, too. Let me blow you.”

Kai bites his lip as if he’s having an internal debate. “Isn’t this so much better, though?” Before you can say anything else, he kisses you, feeling his hands up and down the sides of your body as he does. “Now let me cuddle you, m’kay? Let me take care of you.”

You’re too overwhelmed in pleasure to fight, and succumb to his open arms. Minutes later, you’re both asleep. 

You don’t pry if he tells you ‘no’ the first time, but of course, you can’t help but wonder why he’s never let you even see his body. 

“Take your shirt off, why am I the only one exposed?” You joke, pulling at the hem.

“Hmph, no, baby, I’m too focused on you,” he says. 

Every time. He won’t even take his bracelets off, let alone any of his clothes. Again, you don’t push him - he’ll take that step when he’s ready - but you really want to pleasure him the same way he does you. And besides, he just has to be hot under there; his face is insanely attractive, arms are strong, and figure is lean. You’re dying to know. 

“Y/N?” His voice snaps you from your thoughts.

“Mhm?”

“I, um, actually nevermind.”

“You okay, angel?”

“Yeah, just…”

Done with your shower, you turn off the water and grab your towel. You would just go out nude despite him there, but you know the air will be cold, so you wrap the blue cloth around your body. “Well now I’m done.” Carefully, you open the door and step off the slippery floor.

In front of you, Kai is standing awkwardly. His jeans are still on, but his shirt is off and folded neatly on the bathroom counter. You gulp the minute you see his body for the first time. As you expected, he’s lean and rather well-toned for someone not allowed out of his house much. His arms have some muscle to them, and you can see several prominent veins close to the surface of his skin. What catches your eye most, however, is the sharp v-line shaping his hips, leading to somewhere still hidden from your sight. “Fuck,” you mutter under your breath.

Kai swallows hard. His eyes are red. You don’t notice the signs of discomfort, though, until a small sigh escapes his lips. 

You narrow your eyes when you hear him. “What's wrong, pumpkin?” Hurrying towards him, you cup the sides of his face. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

“I hate it.”

“Hate what?”

“Hate my body.”

“What do you mean? You’re gorgeous, Kai.”

“All the ew, all the stupid… everything.”

“What are you talking about? I don’t see anything ‘ew’.”

“Look closer.”

“Are you sure? If you’re uncomfortable, I won’t.”

“Just do it.”

Nervous, you step back to look at him closer. “Oh,” you mutter, suddenly saddened. Discolored skin in shades of green, yellow, and purple. Bruises, new and old. Handprints, whip marks, slaps from an open palm, all fading from red. Then there are the cuts, up and down his arms, some on his stomach, some on his shoulders. Clearly self-inflicted, though the bruises were all clearly marks of abuse. 

“Now you see how ugly I really am.”

“No, no, Kai…” Gently, you run a finger across a row of evidential abuse. He flinches a little and you can’t help the tear that falls from your eyes. “You’re still gorgeous, baby.”

“Hm,” he mutters, shaking his head ‘no’.

“Shh, shh, you’re okay. I promise. You are still beautiful to me. And I still want you, I still want every inch of your body. You don’t have to hide from me. Hey, I have some, too.”

You peel the towel away a bit to expose several cuts along your upper arm. 

He sniffs, “those weren’t there the other day.”

“I know, baby. But yesterday was really hard with my dad, and this was the only way I could think of to cope.”

Kai remembers yesterday. Your dad had forced you to go out with him to visit different universities in the area. By the time you both got back, he was fuming and you were holding back tears. 

“He got pissed at me when I said I didn’t want to go to college. He asked me why I was the family failure, and why I couldn’t be more like him.”

“I’m sorry, Y/N.”

“It’s okay. I’m okay, now that I’m back beside you.”

“He’s a dick. Your brother’s a dick.”

“My point is, Kai, that we have a lot of the same scars. You don’t think I’m any less beautiful because of them, so why should you think that about yourself?”

“Because I also have bruises from my fucking dad.”

“That’s not your fault, baby. Your dad is an even bigger dick than mine. And just because you have wounds on your body from his hand doesn’t mean I don’t love you or your body any less.”

Kai freezes, “you love me?”

You then freeze, too. “I, um…” Then you realize that that confession may be exactly what he needs to hear. “Yes. I do love you, Kai.”

Tears that were welling in his eyes are now falling, “why?”

“Why? Why not? Because on top of being absolutely gorgeous, you’re an amazing friend and boyfriend. You’re sweet and gentle and trying your best despite the awful circumstances you’ve been given. You’re always there through the good and bad, and I could never get tired of being with you.”

“Can I admit that I love you, too?”

You smile and nod happily before leaning in quickly to kiss him. Amidst your excitement, your towel falls from your body, and your breasts rub up against his bare chest. Kai lets out a moan at the contact, but then separates from the kiss to cover his mouth with his hand. You just raise your eyebrows at him. 

“Feel good?”

Instead of answering, his hands find your breasts and feel them. His eyes roll back in his head. “So soft,” he mutters.

“Kai?”

“Hm?”

“Does this mean I can see you now?”

“Um, I, n- uh-” he stutters over every word. 

“You know what? It’s okay. Later?”

“Okay.”

“Sounds good. And I hate to say it, but we have to stop,” you pause to pull on your panties and jeans, “because Jo will start getting suspicious soon,” you have to ignore Kai’s pouting face as you put on your bra, “and she doesn’t need to see us like this, because she’ll tell your dad.” Your shirt is on next, “and then my dad. And then you’ll get hurt.” He watches you pull your hair out from under your shirt and flip it to curl around your face, “and you’re not getting hurt on my watch. Okay?”

Kai nods, “I love you.”

“I love you, too, pumpkin.” You two share another kiss before leaving the bathroom. Kai grabs his shirt on the way out, fumbling to put it on, along with his multiple bracelets. “Downstairs? I need some water.”

“Sure.”

The minute you reach the last step, Jo calls out to you, “did Kai find you?”

“Yeah, he’s here.”

“Okay. He came in a little bit after you went up. I told him you were in the shower, but not to bother you. He listened to me, right?”

“He didn’t bother me at all. Was very gentlemanly and waited in his room for me to come out.” You wink at Kai as you lie straight to Jo’s turned face. Luckily, she’s fixated on the movie. 

“Okay, good.”

“I’m just going to get a drink and then we’ll be out of your hair shortly.”

◇◇◇◇

“Y/N, are you sure you don’t want to come with us? It’s a huge festival, it’s a lot of fun,” Mr. Parker asks one more time as he’s halfway out the door. 

You take another glance at the amount of people crowding the doorway: your brother and parents, plus Kai’s parents and all his siblings. Minus him, of course. “I’m sure. I’m not too big on crowds, and I’m kinda tired. Might just see if Kai wants to watch a movie.”

“Okay, but be careful.” Then, Mr. Parker leans closer to whisper in your ear. The gray hairs of his beard lightly touch your skin, making you shiver in fear. “And don’t get too close to him.”

“Noted.”

“We should be back around three-ish, more or less,” your Dad adds. 

“Okay.”

“Don’t leave the house, and certainly don’t let him sneak out,” Mr. Parker piggy-backs off your dad’s comment. Jeez, it’s like they’re long-lost irritating brothers.

“I won’t. He’ll stay here with me.”

“But not too close, becau-”

“I heard it the first time, Dad. I trust Kai enough that we’ll be fine for a couple of hours. Go have fun, okay?” You had to downplay your friendship to make them think you only trusted him a little. If they knew the truth - that you’d trust him with your life - they’d definitely stage an intervention and never let you see each other again. 

“Okay, just making sure. See you later, Y/N.”

“Bye.”

Finally, they leave. It takes ten minutes for nine kids to assemble between two cars, between the Parkers’ van and your parents’ SUV, but they eventually make it work. You can literally hear two kids crying over “having to sit in the back again”, but then you hear your Dad’s voice, “ride with me, if it’s okay with your Dad.” The crying ceases at last, and the cars pull out of the gate. 

“Are they gone yet?” Kai comes downstairs about a minute after they left.

“Just pulled out. What were you doing?”

He swallows, “um.” While struggling to answer, you give him a look. “I’m used to hiding during the van-packing process.”

“Okay,” you answer, not entirely convinced. 

He bites his lip, “okay, that part is true. I do hide when they do that because sometimes someone storms back in to grab something to appease the ones stuck in the back, like a snack or whatever. But, um, what I was actually doing was… trying to,” he pauses, and you let him find the words, “build up the courage to, um… can I just kiss you?”

You’re confused, but you’ll never deny him a kiss. Smile forming on your lips, you close the three foot gap between you two, hands tracing his jawline, capturing his face, while kissing him softly. His hands find your waist, gripping your hips. There’s something different about this kiss than your usual ones. Something more hungry… willing, maybe. Whatever it is, you let him take charge. 

As soon as the shift in control changes, he spins the both of you around so that you’re pressed into the counter, rather than himself, while he kisses you deeper. His lips leave your mouth to trail down your jaw, to your neck, but then he suddenly stops to look up at you. 

“Everything okay?”

“Can we go upstairs?”

“Of course.” You joke, “afraid someone’s gonna walk in?”

He misses your teasing tone and replies bluntly, “no, I wanna fuck you.”

You nearly trip up the first stair, causing you to grab a tight hold of his hand. “What’d you say?”

“Is that okay?”

“I-uh-um- yes, just caught me off guard. What brought it on?”

“You said you loved me. And that you liked my body even with all the scars. And that if I can love yours with scars, you can love mine.”

“I did say that. I meant every word.”

“And so now we’re here alone, and I’m going to act on something I’ve wanted to do a long time ago.” 

You reach the top of the stairs. He has an arm around your back to prevent you from falling, just in case, as he stares into your eyes for hesitancy. You give none. “Then do it.”

Instantly, your back collides with the hallway wall and he kisses you with the same tenacity he did downstairs. Out of habit, your hands find his hair; his, your waist, but he’s a lot more confident now. Slowly, he inches the both of you towards his door. His hand fumbles with the knob, making him frustrated.

“Wish I could just open the stupid thing with magic.”

“If I had magic, I’d let you take it whenever,” you answer, again, with no hesitancy. 

He stops to stare at you. “You would?”

“Mhm. I mean it, Kai, I love you.”

“But the siphoning hurts.”

You shrug, “can’t hurt that bad. I imagine it’d probably actually feel good. At least for me, maybe not other people. Send little tingles all the way down to my-”

He cuts you off with an open mouthed kiss. “Now I really wish you had magic.”

“-and then a part of me would kinda be in your blood, too, right?” You finish the second part of what you wanted to say. 

“Holy fuck, you’re turning me on.”

“Open the door, Kai,” you urge. 

He finally does, but in the second you take to catch a breath, he’s back on you. He takes advantage of your state and slips his tongue in your mouth, no regard for anything but his and your pleasures. You go weak in his arms and let him explore, enjoying the feeling much more than you probably should. Then, he taps on your hips signaling for you to jump. You do, wrapping your legs around his waist. He carries you to the bed, finally, and throws you down rather roughly.

Immediately, panic takes over his face. “Shit, that was way harder than I meant to! You okay?”

You, on the other hand, can’t get a word out because you’re giggling too hard. 

“Y/N, are you okay?” He tries again.

“You’re so hot when you’re all dominant. Well, you’re always hot, but-” and then you continue to giggle. 

Kai relaxes, realizing he didn’t hurt you. “Oh you little-” he climbs on top of you until he’s hovering over your face. Legs tangle together, bodies close but not close enough… You buck your hips. There, now they’re close enough. “You’ve been wanting this,” he observes, fighting back a moan at the contact. 

“Yes, but also, your comfort is my number one priority. It’s much better now, with you enjoying it too, than if we were to try when you weren’t ready.”

“Thank you, princess,” he kisses your nose sweetly. 

“Thank you for trusting me. One thing though.”

“Mhm?”

“Do you trust me right now?”

“Of course.”

“Good.” Without further warning, you grab his wrists and flip him over so that his back is pressed into the bed. It’s the first time you’ve ever been on top of him, and the power makes you giddy. 

“I thought you liked me being dominant?”

“Oh, I do. But I also want to see you writhe under me,” you wink at him. 

Kai gives you a look, and you know he’s going to start fighting any minute now. It’s in his eyes, and you can feel his muscles under you tensing to build up the strength. In the last second before you think he’s going to try and take charge, your hand goes down to the outline forming in his jeans. All fight is immediately gone as soon as you start to feel him. He can’t even fight the moan he’s been holding back since you started making out downstairs. The sound spurs you on and you rub him harder.

“More, princess. Please.”

You move your legs to straddle him, hands going to his belt. “This okay?”

“Mhm.”

“Words, please.”

“What am I, five?”

You cock your head at him. “Words, or no further touching.”

“Princess,” he tries to buck his hips like you did, but you’re holding him down.

“Come on, Malachai.”

“Don’t use that name.”

“Mala-”

“Fine! Yes, please. It’s okay. Please.” You smirk, not expecting the begging, but loving it. “You little sadist.”

That only makes you love it more. Not wasting another second, your hands are undoing his belt. As much as you want to take it slowly, you’re both too excited to drag it out any longer. Besides, just by looking at him, you can see how hard he is, and you know you’re almost soaking your panties with wetness. 

“Wait,” he pants. 

You stop immediately. “You okay?”

“I need… I need. C’mere,” he beckons you forward, and you listen. “Need this off,” he pulls off your shirt. “And this,” next is your bra. The minute it’s off, he loses control and grabs your tits like he did in the bathroom a couple days earlier. Before you know it, he’s fondling one while the other’s in his mouth. 

“If mine is, this is coming off, too.” You make a grab for his shirt. He pauses, tongue still around your nipple. “Is that okay?”

“Yes,” he seems to decide in that instant. 

In order for you to pull the fabric over his head, he has to disconnect his mouth from your breast. But when it’s off, he swallows hard and doesn’t reach for them again.

“Kai… c’mon, pumpkin.” You take his hand to put it back on your body, trying to return that sense of comfort, but he doesn’t grasp your breast again. Sighing, you take it as a moment to get a closer look at his body. The bruises, the scars, everything. A tear escapes your eye, and you lean down to press a kiss to one of the purplish wounds. Then, you start to do that with all of them. From his neck to his hips, you kiss every mark made on his body, whether by his dad’s hand or his own. On the fresher ones, your lips are more gentle, barely there, not wanting to cause him more pain. But on the older ones, you leave multiple kisses, or even lick them with your tongue before kissing. “I meant it, Kai. You’re gorgeous. These marks don’t stop me from loving you.”

Slowly, he makes eye contact with you again. His hands reach out to your face, and when he gets a hold of you, he pulls you in for another deep kiss on his lips. “What did I do to deserve you?” He asks with a tear emerging.

“You don’t have to deserve love, baby.” You kiss his collarbone. 

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.” Your lips travel to his chest. Giving him a taste of his own medicine, you swirl your tongue around one of his nipples. He moans loudly, arching his back.

“Holy shit, I didn’t know that would feel that good.”

“Can I continue to make you feel things like that?”

“Yes, please. I need it, I need you. Wait, but let me-” he suddenly sticks two fingers into your wet heat, hovering over his own body, and pops them in his mouth. “You taste so good.”

“Are you gonna let me taste you now?”

“Sure. Yes. I meant yes.”

Your eyes warm and you continue to kiss him further down - this time, trailing his v-line. You had noticed the prominent indents the other day, but are now getting to see it up close. He moans again, enticing you more. 

“Princess.”

“I’m working on it.” Finally, you shrug his jeans down and off his body. You can tell he’s fighting the urge to hide his now-bare legs, but you opt to not pay attention to them anyway. Your gaze goes straight to the bulge in his boxers that looks even thicker without his jeans in the way. Mouth watering, you touch him first, enjoying the feeling. 

“Y/N, please. It’s uncomfortable. Too tight.”

Succumbing to his wishes, you tap his hips for him to lift them, then peel back the final confinement. His cock springs out, slapping his stomach in the process. You’re quick to lean forward and lick a stripe from the base to the tip. Kai sinks his head into the pillow, groaning huskily. After pulling his boxers all the way off, you refocus your attention back to the length in front of you. 

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” you mutter. The praise makes him twitch, and you immediately reach out to grasp him between two of your fingers. “Need to taste.” And then you finally do. You start at the tip, rolling your tongue over the slit counter clockwise, stimulating precum in the process. Some of it leaks into your mouth, straight down your throat, but most of it drips down the side of cock. It doesn’t get far, though, before you move your head to catch it, licking your way from the base to the tip, again. 

A shiver runs through his body. “Feels so good.” Barely audible, but you hear him. 

Positioning your head over him, you prepare to take him fully. To you, it’s a five second break of deep breaths, but to Kai, overwhelmed in pleasure, there’s almost no warning. As soon as you’re ready, you sink your mouth down on him until you get about halfway and your gag reflex kicks in. Cock hitting the back of your throat, you gag around him.

“Y/N, you okay?” He sits up on his elbows, worried he’d accidentally hurt you.

Slowly, you lift your head back up, “I’m good, baby. Just training my throat to take you.”

He swallows so hard that you see his Adam’s apple bob. “Oh, um…” He doesn’t lay back down, opting to watch you instead. 

You don’t mind as you go down for a second time, getting further now. You do it several times, taking more and more of him each time. Your tongue swirls around his length and traces his veins. In fact, there’s one vein in particular that especially makes Kai moan every time you hit it. It’s on the underside of his cock, and you start to pay special attention to it. The rest of his length sits against your face as you focus on it.

Kai doesn’t know if the sight or the feeling is affecting him more. Either way, he feels himself getting close to release. Your mouth is around him, head bobbing up and down rapidly, when he twitches. He whines, resisting the urge to hold your head where he wants. Suddenly, though, you stop and remove your mouth completely. 

“Fuck, wait, I’m about to…”

“I know, pumpkin. Can’t let you do that yet.”

He’s about to ask why, but then sees his answer. In one quick motion, you’re removing your own pants and lining your bodies together. “Ready?”

“Mhm. Yes.”

You smile, grab his cock to hold it upright, then sink your heat down onto him. Kai collapses, elbows no longer supporting him, as pleasure consumes him.

“You okay?”

“Yes, oh- oh god.”

“Can I move? I’ll start slow.”

“Please.”

As promised, you slowly begin to ride his length. Your hands rest on either side of his body and lips are pressed to his chest, leaving hot kisses all over his skin. 

“Let me know if you want to try and take over.”

“Okay.”

When Kai starts to relax, you pick up the pace. Not too fast, but little by little. Soon, his hands find your hips and he helps guide you. His fingers have a tight grip on you, but it only makes you wetter. 

“I think, I wanna… wanna try…”

“Want to be on top, angel?”

“Mhm.”

“Okay. You can just flip us or I can move, what are you feeling?” But the hungry look in his eyes already gives you your answer.

As soon as you nod and grab onto his shoulders, he flips the both of you so that you’re now pressed into the bed. With his usual role re-established, so does his dominance. You open your legs wider to give him more access, and he immediately takes advantage of it. With a lick of his lips, he pushes his cock into you, not stopping until he’s run out of length. 

“Oh my god,” you mutter. 

“Is it too much?”

“No, you’re perfect. Move when you’re ready, mmkay?”

He nods, then copies the way you rode him when he begins to move: arms on your side, head ducked into your chest. His lips attach to your nipples, sucking, and pulling them between his teeth. When he gets a hold of his balance, you feel pressure on your clit, too. 

“Fuck, Kai. You’re so good.”

His body jolts, “say it again.”

“What?”

“Name. Say it again.”

“Kai,” you pant as he quickens pace.

“No one else is home baby, say it louder.”

You had forgotten this fact, actually, but the minute he reminds you, you let yourself go. “Fuck,” you moan, rather loudly, “feels so good, Kai! Fuck. Harder.”

He spreads your legs wider and thrusts harder upon request. Obscene sounds fill the room, mixed with your moans and whimpers.

“Kai,” you pant, “need to hear you, too.”

“I’d rather hear you, Princess.”

“Aw, come on, gorgeous. Nothing turns me on more than men moaning,” you admit. “Need to hear you.”

Previously held-back grunts and groans tumble from his mouth at your confession. When his lips return to your nipple, he makes sure to keep up with your request, sending vibrations throughout your body. 

“I’m close, Kai. So close, so close… don’t stop what you’re doing.”

“I’m getting there, too,” he twitches again. “Come for me, Princess.”

As soon as he asks, your orgasm rips through your body. Loud moans follow, and your eyes roll back in your head. Kai rides you through yours, before pulling out and immediately releasing all over your face and chest. Some drips off your shoulders, down to the bedsheets.

The minute he catches his breath, a worried expression takes over his face, “I’m sorry! I knew I shouldn’t do it inside you, but wasn’t sure where else to. I aimed for your chest and misfired.”

You make direct eye contact with him, then swipe a bunch off your cheek with your finger before sucking it off. “Oh, I’ll never complain about a facial.” You dart your tongue out to the side to gather more. “And don’t worry, I kinda like the taste. How the hell were you a virgin, Kai?! You were amazing the whole way through!”

He blushes, “um, thank you.”

You can’t help but giggle. Only Kai would be sweet enough to thank you for complimenting his sexual ability. Your ex-boyfriend, to whom you had lost your virginity, threw you an, “I know,” when you told him he was good. This little fact just made you love Kai even more. 

Then, as if he couldn’t get more perfect, his next words are, “can I clean you up now, Princess? And then we can cuddle and nap?”

“Of course. Give me a kiss first.”

Kai leans forward and kisses you sweetly. His tongue sweeps over your bottom lip, wetting it gently. 

“Blood,” he comments.

“Hm?”

“There’s blood on your lip.”

You run your own tongue along it, “must’ve bit it in pleasure.”

“I’ll be right back, okay?” He pulls on a loose pair of sweatpants from his drawer, giving you a wink. 

“Okay, darling.”

Two minutes later, Kai returns with a warm rag and a water bottle. First, he cleans the small sore and any remaining blood off your lip, then hands you the bottle. “Drink,” he insists. As you do, he moves the rag over your face and down your neck and chest, cleaning off his drying cum. He rubs your lower body next, easing some of the soreness as well as wiping away your cum. “Anywhere else?”

“No, I’m okay. Do you need anything?”

“Just you,” he sappily replies. 

“Okay, come here then.” Arms wide open, you gather him up and pull him close. You take a hand away for a split-second to pull the blankets over you two, earning a whine before he realizes what you’re doing. As soon as your arm is back around him, he snuggles into your body. “I love you, Kai,” you whisper with your lips against his cheek.

“I love you, too, Princess. Thank you for making me feel like I’m worth something to someone.” 

As much as his words sadden you, they also make you feel warm inside. You’re the one that makes him feel that way, and that’s pretty fucking special. 

“Always, my sweetheart.” You give him a kiss to the cheek, keeping your lips there even afterwards. His heartbeat slows into a comfortable rhythm and breathing evens out, and soon, he’s fast asleep in your arms. 

[itsnotamatterofif]

Loving the Slick love in my ask box today!!! I went with a little scene between Momma and Slick for this one, post the final race. In my head Slick has kind of the Ignored sibling vibes, but her motivations other than ‘money’ aren’t very clear.

Hope you enjoy!

✨Do you want a mini fic? Send me an ask!✨

It's going to be a long night.

Whilst everyone else is out partying and celebrating Rusty's stupidly triumphant win, Slick is alone. Hiding in the maintenance shed, drill in hand, she's instead adamantly focused on the painful joints that had become loose following the crash with Greaseball and Electra. Those two got whisked off to safety immediately, but of course no one at this god-forsaken, stupid, annoying yard had bothered to ask the tanker-

She huffs in annoyance as the drill slips out of her hands again. Why the engineers had to make their tools so fucking tiny she would never know.

With a curse and a groan, she heaves to her wheels, bending down to pick up the drill. This is the second time this has happened now, and to be absolutely honest if she drops it a third time it would be the absolute cherry on this awful cake of a day.

“Here, baby, let me help.”

She jumps back suddenly, apparently too lost in her own thoughts to realise someone had entered too. With a glance upwards, her vision is filled with a figure that is undeniably Momma, and any shock in her system fizzled away into annoyance.

“Piss off Steam train,” she snaps, grabbing the drill and retreating back to her bay, “I can handle this myself-“

“‘Steam Train’?” Momma repeats incredulously, and the fact that she is not only still here but also smiling makes Slick want to scream, “damn, one bad job and it’s like your first day at the yard again - believe it or not, Miss Slick Oil, I came here to make sure you were alright.”

“I’m fine,” Slick grumbles quickly, “doesn’t Rusty need you or something? I’m sure you’re due a speech about the power of steam anytime now.”

“He can wait,” Momma says easily, and with a creak and a groan, situates herself on the bay next to slick, “looks like you got pretty banged up there.”

Slick can’t help the grunt of frustration - why won’t this fucking engine leave her alone? “Ain’t nothing I can’t handle.”

“Was this following your little tangle with Greaseball?”

She can feel Momma’s eyes on her, expectant and perceptive.

“Yeah,” she finally admits, the whir of the drill filling the shed for a second as she screws a loose bracket into place, “Electra took the brunt of it though - you should have seen how smashed up their stupid little chest screen got, it was great-“

“I’m sure it was.” Momma’s tone is even, loaded with patience - considering the fact that she’s been taking care of all the trucks and Rusty for god knows how long, Slick’s surprised at just how much patience she has left. “Slick, baby, why’d you do it?”

Like ice in her fuel pipes, Slick knows exactly what Momma’s on about. Why she sabotaged Rusty, threw the entire final whilst convincing Lumber and Porter to work against their friend, and why she was more than happy to leave Rusty to the mercy of the engines.

She knows why, of course. The empty space where solid bullion should be under her loading bay won’t let her forget, as well as the messages of anger from the various bookies and sponsors she’d been rigging the game for. All of this for a way out of this dead end yard, to get somewhere she’d be actually useful for once, or be able to race with proper engines, not jumped up ego cases like Greaseball and Electra, and not have to deal with the stupid coaches anymore.

Or stupid Rusty, who was actually nice to her sometimes, or the stupid trucks, who were quite useful in her various escapades.

She didn’t think Hydra was capable of hatred, too oblivious to the world to be capable of negative emotions, so the look of sheer disappointment before the downhill race was unexpected.

“Cash,” she admits simply, setting to work on wedging a fuel pipe back into place, “if I’d had pulled it off proper, and your little pet project hadn’t put ideas in Rusty’s head, I’d be set for life.”

“And what would you have done with that cash, Slick?” Momma asks. Slick wants her to be angry - she was expecting fire and brimstone from the old steamer, not patience, and the whole thing is just making her angrier.

“Gotten out of here, for one,” Slick starts with a humourless, dry laugh, “gone somewhere sunny - I’m sure an airport in paradise somewhere needs an A1 tanker, I know people who’ll convert me.”

Momma hums thoughtfully, considering Slick’s answer as if it wasn’t some hasty excuse. “Kid, this ain’t easy-“

“What ain’t easy?” Slick shouts, teeth bared as every ounce of fuel left in her surges and boils with rage - she thought she was prepared for this, prepared to tell the rest of the yard exactly where they can shove it, but apparently not, “kickin’ me out? Telling me to fuck off? I’ll tell you, it’s gonna’ be damn easy - I knew it was comin’, and I wanna’ be out of here as much as you wanna’ see the back of me, so fuck off out of here with that fake pity, it’s-“

“It ain’t easy to apologise, Slick,” Momma interrupts, and Slick feels shock hit her like a cold front. Momma is looking sorrowfully down at her clasped hands, lips bared in a tight line. “I never did do right by you, and I’m sorry about that - if this is because of anything me or the boys did-“

“No, no it ain’t,” Slick mutters, and as the rage begins to seep out of her like sludge, embarrassment fills its place, “I just- I feel trapped here. All I do is follow around those jumped up engines, and they treat me like shit, I’m- I’m tired, Momma.”

Two large arms are around her like a flash, and before she can argue she’s tugged into the steamer’s side; it’s… it’s nice, the hug, nicer than she remembers them. Momma’s been spending most of her time recently making sure Hydra doesn’t blow, or trying to stop Porter and Lumber from blowing him up, she can’t remember the last time she had a hug. Against her will, she feels herself go lax, whatever fight she had draining, and instead she just aches.

“I understand if you still wanna’ leave, baby,” Momma says quietly, muffled slightly from where her face is so close to Slick’s hair, “but you know you’ll always have a bay and a safe place to rest here, and I swear by the Starlight that I will do better by you.”

Something in her throat is threatening to break if she opens her mouth to reply, so she grits her teeth and screws her face up to stop any rogue fuel leaks. She’s not sad, not angry, not pissed off, everything just kind of hurts now, and Momma’s arms are so warm.

“Let me know if I can help with anything,” Momma adds, and Slick can finally hear the smile in her warm tone.

“Sure,” Slick replies, simple and quiet, “will do.”

[bloodhoundsandplagues]

How can I make it OK?

Arthur Morgan x reader

PART 1 🌀 PART 2

Summary : you're homesick.

gender neutral reader, no use of y/n, not explicitly romantic unless you wanna read it that way, 3K words

Warnings : swearing, mentions of suicide, panic attack described in semi detail, not the jolliest thing i've ever written

A/N : first post that's actually writing in 2025 ! wrote most of this on the train while listening to house in nebraska by ethel cain and more than this by wolf alice so yeah. also this isn't arthur heavy in the sense that it's reader rambling about being homesick mostly. to be read in a southern accent as god intended

Of all the places I have travelled with the Van Der Linde gang, I think this is my least favourite. 

Living- or rather, camping- in the ruins of some plantation, bodies of the former owners stagnating in the pond. Sometimes I hear ‘em- the ghosts, in the walls, screamin’. I know it’s my mind, playing tricks on me; but it’s harder to have that rational thought when you’re lying alone in the middle of the night, wind whistling through broken windows. It’s not that I don’t like having a roof over my head. Shit, everyone in this godforsaken gang is happy to have a real shelter from the weather, even one as flimsy as this house. So I shut my mouth, hunt as I’m expected-which is what I am doing now, borrowed bow over my shoulder, quiver resting comfortingly between my shoulder blades. 

Hunting is familiar. Back in the Grizzlies, where my daddy raised me, we’d go out any time of day, in any weather, hunt for the coming storms. I’d do everything the way he taught me to- lay out traps, wait behind a boulder, bow in hand. It builds patience, he told me when I asked why the hell we didn’t just track the damn animal, instead of waitin’ in the cold for it to find us. 

Now, it’s not cold, and dear old daddy ain’t here to help. 

I left my horse hitched by a lake, with enough grass for him to be fed and well until I bring back something worthy of Pearson. It’s near sunrise; already, the heat is uncomfortable; my skin is sticky, my clothes uncomfortable. It’s moments like these that I long for the snow. 

I wipe my forehead with the back of my head. I’ve been walking for a little while now, waiting for a pack of deer to pass by. There’s something that bothers me about killing them- maybe it’s their eyes, so big and brown, caught frozen as they stare at you. Or maybe it’s their resemblance to this little girl I knew, at a local village at the base of the mountain where I grew up. 

I shake the thought of her big brown eyes and twitchy nose as I spot a herd of ‘em, grazing near a small stream. There’s enough light for me to count them- seven, big enough to feed us. 

I get on one knee, like my daddy taught me. Notch an arrow in the bow, pull it back. One of the poor animals raises its head, looks in my direction. 

Before I can hesitate, I let go, and the arrow flies; a fraction of a second later, it has notched itself in the animal’s throat. It falls; its friends, the rest of its herd (its gang, I think, almost laughing) scamper off, into the woods. I don’t go after them. Pearson will have to do with this, and whatever herbs or mushrooms I’m able to pick up. 

The doe is dead by the time I reach her. I kneel. Pull the arrow from her neck; thick, sticky blood gets on my hands. I almost reach for snow, to clean it off; curse myself when my fingertips meet grass and mud. The doe’s dead eye stares up at me, brown and empty as the sky. I resist the urge to close them. 

“Sorry, sweet.” I whisper it as I hoist her up, put her over my shoulder. She’s heavy. I must be getting blood on my shirt- it’s a shame, because it’s my favourite colour, and I’ve just bought it. 

I swallow any regrets I feel as I walk back to my horse, the weight of the doe uncomfortable against my bow and quiver. 

You’re the reason she won’t come home, a little voice whispers in my head. I stop, then, because my chest is tightening and I can’t really breathe. I say something incoherent. The fields around me are empty- it’s just me and this doe. 

I drop her into the mud and loosen my shirt, gasping for air. I want cold, I want crisp mountain air; not this thick, humid, barely-air that clogs my throat and makes my lungs heavy. 

I dig my fingers into the mud and grass, as I would have done in the snow, back home. Home. What a weird thought. I catch the dead doe’s eye again, and that’s when the tears come, thick and hot and nasty, blurring my vision. So stupid, I think, as I force myself to stare at her. She- no, it- is just an animal. She doesn’t have a home, not the way I did. Do. 

I think of crying out for help, but that’s pathetic, and I’m a lot of things, but pathetic ain’t one of them. 

I think I stay there, on my knees, fingers deep in the mud, for a long time- when my vision clears again and I’ve stopped gasping for air, the sky is clear, clear blue, no traces of sunrise left. If I focus hard enough on it, I can almost pretend I’m back in the mountains. 

I get up, teeth digging into my tongue to prevent any new feelings from resurfacing. I’m not in the goddamn mountains. All that’s left for me there is two frozen bodies deep beneath the snow, and a hut that’s probably been raided or taken over by some other gang. 

I pick the doe up, this time careful to avoid looking at her face. Its face. It’s an animal, not my goddamn sister. 

I make it back to my horse without another incident; strap the doe across his back and climb onto his saddle. His name is Coal, ‘cause of the colour o’ him- black and charcoal grey, a streak of white down his face. 

“Hey, boy,” I murmur to him as I flick the reigns. My voice is shaky, hoarse; it’s obvious that I’ve been crying. 

Coal begins to trot back to camp. I think of changing direction, of going to Rhodes, clear my thoughts. But I gotta bring this back to Pearson, or he’ll skin me. 

The camp is still there when I return, which is a relief. I don’t think I’ll forget the moment when I came back after a hunt and found everyone gone, everything burned to the ground. 

I shiver at the memory and get off Coal. “I’ll come ‘nd fix your saddle later,” I say to him, scratching his neck. He grunts, in a tone I hope is affectionate. I remove the doe, put her back over my shoulder. Make it to Pearson’s stand, where he’s angrily chopping vegetables. 

“Hey,” I say, dropping the doe in front of him. I angle her head- her eyes- away from me. “Got some meat.” 

“I can see that,” is Pearson’s kind answer. 

I ignore him and walk away again, into the derelict house we’ve been callin’ home for the last few weeks. My room is on the top floor; I wish I shared it with someone, but I got lucky (Dutch’s words) and got my own, private room. 

I tug off my bloodstained shirt and drop it on the floor. There’s nothin’ to be done about my trousers- they’re the only pair I’ve got (the others have just been washed, and hang soaking wet outside) and I don’t plan on walking around bare-legged. 

I change quickly. Sit down on the bed, stare at the wall. 

I don’t know how long I stay like that; starin’ at the peeling wallpaper, trying to pretend it’s the same white as the snow I used to see out my window. Obviously, the pretendin’ don’t work, because it’s not the snow, it’s a crumbling fuckin’ wall in a crumbling fuckin’ house. I stand, take a deep breath in (of hot, hot, humid, thick air), push it out. It ain’t cleansing- I don’t feel better once I’ve tasted the surrounding bogs- but it’s enough to calm my heartbeat, and make me feel somewhat human again. 

For the rest of the day, I help around camp, doing stupid, mind-numbing tasks. I try not to think of the mountains, and how much better than this godforsaken swamp they were. People talk to me, and I answer, polite and all. I eat Pearson’s stew, listen to another grandiose speech about Dutch’s plan (or, as far as I’m concerned, concepts of a plan). I finally find a moment of quiet sitting on a log, staring out at the swamp. Not the prettiest sight; all brown and green, with hints of yellow dust. 

I’m alone for only a few minutes before I hear footsteps. I turn, and find Arthur approaching, taking his cigarette packet from his satchel. I shift on the log I’m sitting on, making the split second decision that his company is something I want right now. 

He sits next to me, silently. Offers me a cigarette (I decline with a shake of my head and a wave of my hand) then lights his own with a match. He stays quiet for a little while, blowing smoke from his mouth, tinting the world blue and grey. 

It’s strange, sitting next to him. He don’t mind being quiet; seems to like my company well enough, ‘cause he keeps coming back here to smoke. 

He’s the one who found me, all that time ago, on a solo hunt in the Grizzlies. It was at the edge of the mountains, where it starts to get warmer; where the sun melts away most of the snow. Was from Blackwater, he said- I asked if I could go back with him. Promised I’d leave ‘em all alone when I got there, I just needed a job, as far from my daddy’s corpse as I could get. He’d said yes, maybe reluctantly. 

Turns out, I’d found somethin' better than a job. Not quite a family, but a gang, people to rely on, people to distract me from the emptiness created by my father’s death. I suppose it’s these people keeping me here, in this swampy nowhere, sweating my socks off. Here, I’ve got people- back in the mountains, I’ve got two dead bodies and an empty house. 

My chest tightens again, and wordlessly, I take the cigarette from Arthur’s hand, take a long drag. I hand it back, still silent, and dig my fingernails into my knuckles. 

“You miss home?” Arthur asks me, his words marked by the smoke curling from his mouth. I take the cigarette from his fingers again, press it between my teeth, inhale ‘till I can blame the burning in my eyes on the smoking rather than whatever has grabbed hold of me; whatever old, buried feeling I’d thought long gone had chosen to make an appearance. Guess it must be more obvious than I thought, that I’m feelin’ odd, ‘cause he clearly smelled it on me. 

“I don’t know, I guess,” I say, softly, fiddling with the dirty fabric of my trousers as I hand the cigarette back; as if I don’t know the answer, as if I haven’t spent half my goddamn life thinking about this. I exhale, blowing out smoke from my nose.  “Never really thought about it.” The lie burns in my throat, so thick I can hardly breathe. 

It’s not the stability that I miss. The weather in the Grizzlies was nothin’ permanent, not in any sense- one minute it’s a blizzard, the next you’re standing staring at the bright blue sky, knee deep in snow. I guess it’s the wolves howling, it’s the comfort of a fire as wind rattles against the window panes; it’s even the way the stars look after three days holed up inside. There’s no one thing I miss or don’t miss- I just know I miss it, so much that my chest tightens at the thought. 

When my daddy got shot, three- no, four- years ago, I thought the one answer was to leave that place behind; pack up my clothes and go out into the Wild Wild West, make my own future away from the smell of his freshly dug grave, right next to my mama’s frozen bones. And when I came across Arthur, and later his gang of gung-ho outlaws, who seemed ready to take on the world, I thought that was it- my life was set. 

But I don’t like the constant moving like I used to. It don’t feel like adventure anymore; it feels like escaping, like we’re always running from something. 

“I don’t…” I hesitate, reach up to dig my nails into the dip of my collarbone, try to dig the feeling out, hold it up to the light to examine it. “I guess it’s different.” A veiled confession. Away from the Grizzlies (away from home) it’s hot, stiflingly so; I can’t climb onto my horse without breaking a sweat. It’s already too warm by the time the sun rises- clothes sticking to your skin uncomfortably, flies buzzing above, drowning in the smell of swampy nothingness as soon as your eyes open. I don’t hate it- it has become familiar, but familiar in the way the weight of a revolver at my hip has become familiar; the way the constant paranoia that clogs my throat has become familiar. 

“Different how?” 

Another pause, as I scuff the yellow dust ground with the toe of my boot. Different in a whole lotta ways, I want to tell him; even the colour of the sky isn’t quite the same back home. 

Home. I think of the snow as I stare at the yellowed leather of my shoes. Where there’s snow and wolves and no people to shoot at you unless you really look for it. 

“I don’t know,” I say, even though my whole body knows; it courses through me, the knowledge that a few days ride away is the mountains, and the snow. “It just is.”

The answer dissatisfies him, I think. “C’mon,” he says in that gruff voice of his. “You gotta be able to find one difference between here and the goddamn Grizzlies.” 

“’S warmer,” I say, the words followed by a short, slightly forced laugh. “Don’t snow as much.” 

He snorts, shaking his head. “Alright,” he responds, maybe a little condescendingly. “Think o’ anything else?” 

“You got less wolves down here,” I add, after a few moments. I don’t say that I miss the sound of them howling; that when I close my eyes, I try to picture it, try to pretend I’m back there instead of here. 

“Alright.” He says it kinder this time, like we’re getting somewhere. 

“The sky looks different.” I dig my fingers in deeper. He offers me the cigarette; I take it, repurpose the burning in my throat. The smoke flickers around me as I exhale. “It’s- clearer, up there. More blue.” Here, the sky is tinted almost yellow. It ain’t ugly, but it ain’t home. 

He doesn’t answer, now, staring out at the swamps. I don’t know how he feels about this place- about Rhodes, and the foreignness of Saint Denis, with its factories and smoke and cobbled roads. I wonder if he misses home- if he ever had one to begin with. “I guess I do miss it,” I say, to fill the silence more than anything. “But… I don’t know, I don’t think I wanna go back.” Alone is the word I don’t add. I think- maybe- if I had the gang, my new family, I’d go back to the Grizzlies. After we escaped Blackwater, and hid out in that abandoned town up in the mountains; that was the happiest I’d been for a long time. 

But alone isn’t something I want to be. Not the way I was alone, the few weeks after my father passed- just me and the freshly dug grave, me and the wolves, me and the gun that killed him, sittin’ on the table, an unwanted temptation. 

“I don’t wanna be alone again.” It comes out soft, hoarse, pathetic, the words grating in my throat, like sandpaper on my tongue. 

It’s true. Yes, home is in the mountains; I know that now, when my chest clenches at the simple thought of the snow. But home is also with these people- with Arthur, and Mary-Beth, and Pearson, and the rest of them. Hell, even Kieran, the O’Driscoll boy, has become home, in a way. Home is not just the place where I grew up (the place where my daddy now lies); home is also the people that have become my family; who have embraced me so kindly and warmly. I know deep in my stomach that if I were to leave now, take a horse back to the hut, I’d end up like my daddy, a bullet in my head and a gun in my hand. 

He did it ‘cause he was lonely. So lonely that even I wasn’t enough to stop him from pulling the trigger. Lived in the mountains his whole life, but he had my mama then, and his parents. I guess fifty years of snow and not much else can drive you insane. 

My hand goes to my temple; I dig my fingers into the skin, right where I found the bullet in his head. 

“Y’won’t be,” he responds gruffly. He’s finished his cigarette, and yet he’s not made any attempt to get up, leave me with my thoughts. I snort, wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. 

“Don’t know that,” I say. “With the Pinkertons on our asses, ‘nd all.” It’s meant to be lighthearted, but it comes out quiet, rough. 

“Yeah, but they’ve always been on our asses.” He puts a hand on my leg; it engulfs my entire knee. “Tell you what.” He hesitates, clearin’ his throat a little. Squeezes my knee. “I’ll take you huntin’, once a week- or twice, or less, if you want.” 

“I go huntin’ anyway,” I answer. “Not in the mountains, y’don’t.” My chest both tightens and loosens at the same time. I swallow; my heart is thumping in my chest. I put my hand to my collarbone again, digging my nails in. “C’mon, it’ll do you good. Cold air and all that.” 

I know there’s a deeper meaning to that. Cold air- he’s giving me the chance to go home, and not by myself. Even if it’s not for long, it’s enough- to feel the snow again, to hear the wolves. Maybe once I’ll camp overnight, ride back to camp in the morning. The idea fills me with hope- a feeling we’re all starved of, these days. 

“Really?” Is all I manage to croak out. 

“What, you don’t wanna?”

I laugh, and it’s genuine this time. “No, I- I wanna.”

“Alright then.” He gives my knee a last squeeze, then stands. I stand with him, smooth my shirt with the flat of my hand. “Tomorrow then?” Tomorrow. Tomorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow. I’d sing, if my throat weren’t so damn tight. My eyes sting, and I wipe at my nose with my hand. 

“Thank you,” I say, quietly. He don’t respond, but he nods, and I think maybe he smiles a little. 

Tomorrow. Tomorrow I’ll get to take a piece of my new home to the place I grew up- someone I love, to the place that holds my heart. 

I watch him walk away; and suddenly, the humidity don’t feel so bad anymore. 

[voidboymads]

Steter Prompt : Stiles doesn't set Peter on fire at the end of S1, but saves him instead

...I just realized while going to post it that I messed up a bit and did the saving at the wrong part D; I hope that's okay! >.< If not, I can totally redo it T_T

-------

It’s a last-minute decision that Stiles makes as he hands the brewed concoction over to Jackson in the car. The glass flask slips from his fingers as it transfers hands and with it, the guts to throw it in the first place. All night he’d been adamant about - about well murder to be honest. After everything with Lydia and the entire town in chaos, it only felt logical to help Scott. That also meant helping Derek but he was still fuzzy on where Derek stood with the rest of them. Something on the drive over gnawed at Stiles, though. He couldn’t stop remembering the parking garage - the conversation he’d had with Peter.

That crazy psycho was going to give him a gift.

A ‘what if’ he’d been fawning over all semester while watching Scott try to figure things out. Sure, jealousy was there - even amidst the friendship and the desire to help but he couldn’t stop thinking about Peter’s question.

Even if he knew his answer would remain the same, the thought that someone felt that he had the potential to be something more than what he was, more than the comedic relief and a wiz with the computer, was pretty fucking nice.

Peter had called him the clever one.

Decisions. Decisions.

“Wait, Jackson - it actually might not work!” He screams this as they exit the car - pulling right up to the big showdown, but it does no use. Jackson throws the flask anyway. When Peter catches it, Stiles sucks in a shaky breath - a hopeful gasp as it remains intact.

It’s only when the arrow from Allison’s bow hits it - igniting it, that Stiles loses it all. There’s a chance that it won’t engulf him with just his arm aflame but then Jackson takes his own flask and throws it without a second thought.

Peter is wrapped in waves of fire and Scott is sending him to the ground and all Stiles can think is that Peter called him the clever one.

“Derek - if you do this, I’m dead.” Scott’s words filter in and Stiles realizes Peter’s not on fire anymore. He’s lying on the ground, burned to a crisp. Derek hangs over him, glaring down at him with a purpose. The purpose they were all there for that night, and yet - Stiles feels a tug in his chest and his feet are moving on their own. “ - what am I supposed to do?” Scott sounds desperate, but Derek’s gaze won’t stray from Peter’s face.

“You’ve already decided,” Peter gasps, his body bloody and shaking from physical trauma. Stiles’ heart is hammering so loud in his chest, he’s sure everyone there can hear it but all noise begins to drown out again - Peter’s words ringing through like he’s the only one there. “I can smell it on you!”

Derek raises his clawed hand and Stiles flings himself between them without hesitation. “Wait!” He yells, shielding himself over Peter’s body and he just knows - he knows the choice he’s made and the ramifications that will follow from it. He almost expects Derek to claw the shit out of him for mere spite of ruining his crowning moment but silence follows. A heavy one that seems to stretch out for too long.

Stiles lifts his head, his eyes catching everyone’s faces as they stare back at him with mixtures of shock and disbelief. Derek’s screams anger - flared nostrils, brows scrunched, a glaring gaze fixated no longer on Peter, but on him. Those claws remain out, his hand still lifted in the air and Stiles thinks this is it. All the good he’s sure he’s done - all the help he’s given to Scott and Derek and the rest. It’s all for nothing because Derek’s ready to kill him and make sure that Peter drags him down to hell with him.

Except, nothing happens.

Derek lowers his hand, anger slipping into heated confusion as Peter struggles to breathe beneath them. “Why -?”

“I know you want this and I know you have every right but it’s too much.” He’s not exactly sure what he’s doing but he won’t move from his spot. He keeps his arms over Peter as if that might help - though he knows it won’t. But he can’t let this happen - not while he’s in this perplexed state. He can’t tell Derek that Peter called him the clever one and it makes him feel a certain way.

“What the hell are you doing?” Argent’s yelling across the open space, hugging Allison close to him. He’ll never let her out of his sight if Scott stays the way he is, but he can’t let either of them touch Peter.

“He’s done too much,” Derek huffs, and Stiles nods, grimacing as Peter coughs.

“I know - ”

“Stiles,” Scott takes a few steps towards them. “Even if I wanted to stop Derek, it’d be me all the same. I need this or I - I can’t - ”

Peter makes some horrible gurgling noise and Stiles looks back down at him, the stench of his burned body almost a shock to the system at seeing Peter’s icy blue gaze looking back at him. “You don’t know if it’ll work. No one does. Derek and Peter - they were born as wolves. What if - ”

Derek growls and grabs Stiles by the scruff of his shirt. “What the hell does it matter? Get out of the way!” He’s about to toss Stiles and if he gets too far, it’ll be too late. He doesn’t know what he can say to change their minds. It’s a hard win knowing what all they’ve been through.

“H- he is all you have left.” Stiles stammers out. “I know he’s done bad things but he’s your family.” Derek growls again and Stiles shakes like a leaf in his grasp.

“I can always make a new one.” Electric blue eyes flash at Stiles, momentarily stunning him and he knows. He knows if Derek does this and takes that power from Peter that it might be all over for the rest of them. He opens his mouth to protest - to say anything to keep this filibuster going in hopes of winning but Derek surprises him, suddenly dropping him to his feet. “But I can wait. You want him so badly?” He pushes Stiles over, tripping him on the way down.

Stiles lands right next to Peter, catching blue eyes on him as he tries to push himself up.

“You can be his new nurse - since he killed the old one. And when he regains his strength and kills you too, then I’ll have him right back here where I want him.” The words are spoken so harshly that it brings a burning flush to Stiles’ face. He’s done something that can’t be taken back and he can’t even bring himself to look at Scott.

No one but Peter, who’s looking at him like he wants to say something.

“Okay,” Stiles shuts his eyes. “He’s my responsibility.” As much as that might not even be true, he says it anyway.

When he opens his eyes, Peter’s slowly shift to red in their shared silence and Stiles finally feels seen as a deal is made.

[uhohwhathaveidone]

I want to start off w saying i may or may not have binged all your fics (#noragrets free time well spent)

Could i request a jealous/crybaby Sebastian x f!Slytherin reader during the yule ball bcus someone asked her about before him and now he’s pissed about it. Could end cute w them together after all or him ruining her night by being pissy a lá goblet of fire - totally up to you!!

Love ur writing <3<3<3

I lost you for a second and got scared-

With Me Instead (S.S)

<3<3<3 I'm so glad you're enjoying! Your words make me very happy <3. I spent ages with my friend that really likes old fashion to come up with some clothing ideas for this, but the only thing that was really cemented was making a version of the Dark Arts outfit for Sebastian to wear to the ball, everything else was us skimming Pinterest while also looking at old excerpts of high-class 1890's fashion, which was rather strange because we went through dinner dresses, evening toilettes, ball-toilettes, the whole thing. I'd be dead in them. Anyway, I hope you enjoy! This has a slight character x reader that isn't Sebastian Sallow, but it's for the plot, i swear. (Also if you want the like reference images i will post them because i 100% feel like i didn't do these things justice)

      You practically sprinted down the halls as you weaved through the students, making your way to the common room. You halted as you reached the door, moving from one foot to the other as you said the password and waited for the door to open, excitement building in your gut as you saw Sebastian and Ominis on the other side. You shouted to them as you ran up, placing your hands on your knees as you tried to catch your breath. Sebastian looked down at you in confusion, frowning as you tried to speak. “Perhaps you should sit down, we don’t need you passing out before you tell us what’s on that mind of yours.” He said, gesturing to the couch. You nodded as you dropped into a seat, running a hand through your hair. “Where did you come form, anyway?” Ominis asked, taking a seat beside you. You watched Sebastian take a seat on your other side; confusion still etched in his face. “Dining Hall, I ran all the way over here!” You breathed, sighing as you fanned your face. Sebastian’s eyes widened, “The Dining Hall? What’s so important that you had to run up and tell us? I’m sure it could have waited.” You shook your head as you calmed your heart and fixed your breathing, sitting up and clenching your hands into fists.

      “They just released the theme for the Yule Ball!” You said excitedly, a wide smile dancing on your lips. Sebastian scoffed as he shook his head. “The theme to a dance is not that important, you know.” You huffed in response, ignoring Sebastian’s comment as you continued. “It’s House themed, meaning that you must dress according to your house! Meaning that we have to have green on.” Ominis nodded as he listened, hearing Sebastian let a sigh out. “Why should we care about a dance? And it’s two weeks away as well, you don’t to be in such a hurry.” Your face dropped as you listened to Sebastian, his pessimistic attitude dragging you down. Ominis heard the absence of your voice, and quickly tried to cheer you up. “Well, now you know what to look for when choosing a dress, right? There’s plenty of time to find the perfect one, not to mention getting it fitted.” You nodded, biting the inside of your cheek. “Right. That also means that the two of you need to find what you’ll be wearing as well.”

      A week had passed, and you sat with Ominis at the table as you ate, describing the dress to him. “I pick it up tomorrow, it should be fitted and ready by then.” You explained, and Ominis smiled. “I’m glad you found one to your liking.” You hummed in response, taking a bite of your food. “Off topic, but do you know what has gotten into Sebastian? He used to be so excited for the ball.” Ominis shook his head. Although he knew perfectly well why Sebastian was acting the way he did, it was none of Ominis’ business to get into the whole logistics. "I'm sure he’ll come around, though. Could have sworn I heard him talking about finding an outfit.” You let out a huff, shaking your head. “Speaking of, have you gotten your outfit then?” You asked, tilting your head as you watched Ominis nod. “My mother sent it by owl earlier today.” “I’d love to see it later, if you don’t mind?” “Of course.”

      Sebastian continued to be pessimistic about the Ball, claiming that the three of you had more important things to do instead, but you continued to shake him off. The next day, you took a trip to Hogsmeade with Natty and Poppy, in search of dresses. “What about this one?” Poppy asked, pointing to a cotton dress, one with low sleeves, one that would lay against the ground as you walked. You shook your head, “I’d trip on it, and it’ll get hot easy too.” The two nodded in agreement, walking around the shop in search of other dresses. Natty had already chosen one; sent over from her mother. Poppy was still looking but had her eye on a soft yellow dress that would reach her ankles with a subtle corset, white sleeves that reached just past her elbows accompanying it. You sighed as you looked through the different dresses, searching for one that would fit the theme while also allowing you room to breathe and feel comfortable. “Y/n! What about this dress?” Natty said, waving you and Poppy over to where she stood. Poppy gasped as she looked at the details, a smile reaching your lips as you examined it, feeling the soft fabric under your fingers. “It’s perfect!”

      You paced around the common room as you began to doubt yourself, muttering what ifs to Ominis as he sat in a seat, shaking his head at some of the things you said. “What if people think the dress is ugly? I’ll be laughed at the whole time, I couldn’t bear to go through that.” You said, earning another sigh from Ominis. “Your dress sounds beautiful, I’m sure everyone will like it.” You continued to pace, fiddling with your fingers as you thought up more worries. “Okay, then what if I step on someone? What would happen then?” “You worry too much.” A new voice said, and you turned your head to see Sebastian as he took a seat. You huffed in response, plopping into an empty chair as you sighed. “That’s easy for you to say, since you don’t even want to go.” Sebastian shrugged at your comment, a small smile touching his lips. “As a matter of fact, I will be going.” You scoffed, raising an eyebrow at him. “Really? And who would you be taking with you?” Sebastian shrugged, feeling his cheeks heat up slightly as he chose his next words. “I was thinking, you and I could go together, naturally.” Ominis dropped his head as he frowned. You sat there as you looked at Sebastian, a small frown forming as you bit the inside of your cheek. Sebastian watched the two of you, his own smile dropping as he felt the colour drain from his face. “What’s wrong? Did I say something?” You shook your head.

      “Sebastian I was already asked, last week.” You said softly, looking down at your hands. Sebastian furrowed his brows, his face switching between upset and confused. “What do you mean, you were already asked? Who asked you?” He said, his voice crackling slightly. You sighed, “Garreth Weasley.” Sebastian felt his heartbeat faster, cursing himself. “The Gryffindor? Why would you go with him? Why didn’t you let me ask you?” He stood up and began to pace, waiting for your answer. You stood as well, glaring at him. “You ask me, the night before the dance! You acted like you weren’t interested anyway! If I had waited, I may have been without a date!” Sebastian scoffed, shaking his head. “You have no patience, do you? You’d rather go with Weasley? Then go with him, why should I care?” With that, Sebastian turned and walked away, no doubt to his room. You sighed as you sat down next to Ominis, who stayed silent.

      “You heard how he acted, right?” You asked, laying your cheek into your palm. Ominis nodded as he sighed, “He did seem uninterested, but I suppose if you have a one-track mind like him, it’s easy to forget how time works.” You nodded, nudging Ominis’ shoulder with your own as you stood up. “I should retire then; I don’t feel like dealing with him when he comes back down to have another go.” Ominis waved you off, staying seated as he listened to the fire.

      You waited by the fountain in the courtyard, fiddling with the soft sleeves of your dress as you waited for Garreth. The sun had begun to set, meaning that the ball would start soon. You sighed as you listened to the water run behind you, looking down at your heels. Black shoes slowly replaced the empty spot in front of you, and you looked up and met Garreth, who smiled as he offered his hand. You smiled back, taking his hand as you took in his outfit. He wore a white button up, paired with a red waistcoat and gold tie, a black blazer and pants completing the look. You had to admit that he looked dashing, and watched how his hair moved lightly as a breeze blew by. “Shall we go, then?” Garreth asked, and you nodded, your hand still held in his as you left the courtyard and made your way down the halls. You passed by some of your friends, waving to Poppy and Natty as they smiled at you, Natty sending you a thumbs up, trying to calm your nerves. Garreth gestured for you to walk in first, bowing slightly as he smiled up at you. You smiled as a slight blush crept up to your cheeks at the gesture, walking in and taking his hand once again.

      Sebastian sat at a table, frowning. Ominis sat beside him, listening to him as he muttered about how stupid everything was, and criticizing everyone’s outfits. “It’s as if we’re the only ones with any sense of style here, look at us!” Ominis shook his head as he tried to tune Sebastian out, who had begun to talk about his own outfit that he “spent a lot of time looking for.” Sebastian wore a fitted white shirt, paired with a white ascot, which bore a green pendent in the center, with a long golden chain that hooked somewhere under the dark green waistcoat that sat under the black blazer, which was currently laying in a chair next to him. He looked down at his shoes, black to match his pants, and sighed. He listened to the chatter around him, recognizing some voices as he eavesdropped on their conversations. Ominis shook his head as he stood up, fixing up his own outfit, which was similar to Sebastian’s in colour, and excused himself. “Where are you going?” Sebastian asked, watching Ominis. “I’m off to get a drink and talk with some friends, perhaps you should do the same.” Ominis turned and left, disappearing into the crowd.

      You hovered near the drink with Garreth, taking a few sips as you watched people filter in. You smiled as Ominis came into view and walked over to you, greeting you and Garreth. “You look dashing in that, Ominis! You pull it off really well!” You complimented, handing him a drink. Garreth nodded, “It really suits you! I’m sure they’ll be flocking to you soon.” Ominis smiled as he accepted the drink from your hand, “Thank you. Though I might not be able to enjoy myself for too long, otherwise Sebastian may get lonely and upset.” You sighed as you shook your head. “He’s still pouting?” Ominis nodded. Garreth placed his drink down and took your hand, “How about we get a dance out of the way, and you can talk to your friend Sebastian? Maybe he could hang out with us.” You nodded as you said goodbye to Ominis, following Garreth.

      The tall boy stood before you as he placed a hand on your waist, earning a shy smile as you placed your hand on his shoulder. The two of you swayed to the music, smiling at some people as they spun by you. Garreth was gentle with you, but it appeared that he hadn’t taken any lessons for dancing, as he stepped on your toes every so often. You smiled as you brushed it off, mentally noting how bruised they would be in the morning. As the song ended, the two of you finished with a bow, smiling at each other. Leander walked over to the two of you, greeting you as he turned to Garreth, asking him if he wanted to hang out with some of the other Gryffindors. Garreth looked at you, seemingly asking if he was allowed, and you smiled and you waved him off, telling him to have fun.

      Without a date now, you walked around the large room, making small talk with some people as you passed by, searching for Ominis and Sebastian. You mumbled to yourself as you walked, thinking about how sore your feet would be the next day, yet thankful that it was the weekend as you made your way out of the crowd, spotting Ominis and Sebastian. You smiled as you looked at the details of Sebastian’s outfit, noticing the blazer that lay next to him, and walked over to sit next to him. Sebastian didn’t look up as he kept his head down, almost as if he was asleep, and you messed with his hair lightly. “Not now, can’t you see I’m busy?” He mumbled, shifting his head in his arms. You chuckled as you kept messing with it, “You can’t sit here forever, why not dance?” Sebastian scoffed as he turned away from you, exposing his back to you as he grumbled. “Don’t you have Garreth for that? Why not go dance with him?” You sighed, tracing your fingers down his spine in boredom. “He ditched me to go hang out with his friends, and Ominis said you might get lonely.” Ominis chuckled at the mention of his name, shaking his head. Sebastian shivered as you kept tracing his spin, quickly sitting up and turning to you.

      His eyes widened as you looked at you, your face seemingly glowing in the light as you smiled at him. He felt heat grow in his cheeks as he took in your outfit, the dark green bow that laid on your chest adorned with silver chains that hooked onto the ribbons, black beads scattered along the links. You placed your cheek into your palm, the soft white sleeves that clung to your wrists dropping slightly as the elastic wrapped around your skin, the frill falling into your arm. He looked back up at your face, unsure if he would be allowed to see the rest of your dress from where you sat. “Do you like it? I think it’s beautiful!” You said as you stood up, twirling around to show him. The white dress shirt buttoned down until it slipped under a dark green corset, wrapping around your middle as it transitioned into the dark green skirt, the top layer ruffled halfway to your knee as a dark sheer fell from under it, reaching your calf, the final layer a white frill, which ended just under the top layer. Your collar was frilled as well, matching your sleeves as they billowed as you twirled.

      “It’s very…lovely.” Was all Sebastian could say as you beamed at him, sitting down beside him once again. “I really love it, Poppy and Natty helped me find it.” Sebastian nodded as he continued to watch you, unsure if you were aware of the dark tint that covered his cheeks as you spoke. “Enough about the dress, though. I’ll be needing some ice when this is all over.” You said, reaching down and messing with your shoe, checking on your foot. Sebastian scoffed, breaking out of his trance. “Did your date step on them?” You pouted as you nodded, “It doesn’t hurt too much right now, but it’ll be a pain in the morning.” Sebastian shook his head as he looked to where everyone was dancing, sighing. “Guess you won’t be dancing anymore tonight.” “Absolutely not, I’m not passing this up!” You said, sending a playful glare at Sebastian, who only shrugged. “Good luck with that, then.” You huffed as you crossed your arms, watching people walk by.

      You stand, sending a smile to Sebastian as you begin to walk away. “Where are you going?” Sebastian asked, and you waved. “I’m going to dance with Amit! I’m sure he’ll be happy to dance with me!” You turned away and kept walking, hearing footsteps quickly approach you as Sebastian grabbed your arm. “Amit? Why would you dance with him?” He asked, and you shrugged. “Well, someone won’t dance with me, so I’m going to find someone else.” Sebastian sighed as his hand slid down your arm and took your hand, his face heating up as he slowly led you to where everyone was dancing. You smiled as you watched his flustered face, meeting together as you placed a hand on his shoulder and kept his hand in your own. Sebastian’s face grew hotter as he slowly placed his free hand on your waist, avoiding eye contact. You chuckled as you felt your own cheeks flush as he brought you closer, slowly beginning to dance.

      “I’ll try not to step on your toes, don’t need you in anymore pain.” Sebastian said as he watched his feet, carefully dancing around them. You hum in response, raising an eyebrow at him. “What?” You shake your head, smiling. “You seem really eager to dance with me now, for someone who didn’t want to be here.” Sebastian let out a soft chuckle as he shifted his hand on your waist, spinning you. He brought you back to him and lowered his head so he would whisper to you. “I was going to ask you to the Ball earlier, but I got scared.” You scoffed, “Scared? You? Of what?” Sebastian squeezed your hand and blew in your face in annoyance, causing you to laugh. “I figured; you might reject me. So, I pretended to not care.” You smiled softly as danced around Sebastian, hands still together and you waltzed. “So, you rejected yourself? Why would I reject you?” Sebastian shook his head, grabbing your waist again as the music slowed. “I don’t know. Nerves, maybe? There are plenty of other people here, I figured you’d prefer them.” You chuckled as you leaned your head onto his chest. “Why would I prefer anyone else over you? I’d rather you here with me instead.” Sebastian sighed, feeling his heartbeat faster, afraid you’d hear it. “Although, you took forever to ask. I was going to wait, but I’m glad we can end the ball as dates instead.” Sebastian smiled, looking down at you as you wrapped your arm around him, hugging him as you danced.

      “I’m glad we can dance together; this is rather nice.” Sebastian said, leaning his head onto yours. It felt as if you were the only two people left in the room, a small yet intimate moment shared between the two of you. You hummed in response, shift your head so you could look up at Sebastian. “We should do this more often.” Sebastian chuckled, raising a brow. “What, dance? Or would you rather just stay in my arms?” You placed a quick kiss on his chin, watching as his face lit up again. “Both, perhaps.” Sebastian stuttered as he looked into your eyes, biting the inside of his cheek. The song began to end, and he quickly led you into a dip, placing his own soft kiss to your lips. “Agreed then.”

      Poppy and Natty watched the pair, smiling. Ominis walked over with a drink in his hand, taking a sip. “Has anything interesting happened?” He asked. The two girls giggled, sharing smiles. “They’ve kissed twice now.” Natty said, Poppy clapping her hands together. “It’s the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.” Ominis nodded, grabbing a treat from the table behind them. “Maybe Sebastian will be quiet now.” He said, taking a bite.

[foreststranger]

BLADE - There’s A Major Problem: I

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ(ꜱ) *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

↳ you’re dragging around a dead body lol

ꜱᴛᴀʀʀɪɴɢ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

↳ 『honkai: star rail』blade x gn!reader ft. silver wolf and kafka as emotional support

ꜱʏɴᴏᴘꜱɪꜱ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

↳ a kinda (barely) angsty-hurty/comfort-maybe-ish-sorta (?) unpolished short-tiny-small-lazy fic where blade dies so you gotta drag him back home and wait for him to heal himself back to life or wtv

𑁍 ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 0.9k

ɴᴏᴛᴇ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

↳ this is based on a dream i had abt him lol anyway i have like 5 diff fics i’m writing and i have only this one finished lmfaooo anyway anyway i also wanted to say sorry for not posting anything in 10 whole days i’ve been a little unmotivated but i’m not gonna be posting for a bit as i’ll be having some family members visiting and unfortunately they speak english and might catch me writing these… HSR x reader fanfics are not something i’d like them to know i write 😍😍 ANYWAY ANYWAY ANYWAY THEY’RE COMING TODAY SO I DECIDED TO CUT THE FIC SHORT MAYBE I’LL CONTINUE IT SOON THOUGH

“Blade, I promise. I’ll always be there to clean you up and take care of you when you’re hurt.”

It feels like years since you made that promise to him. And you regret it. You didn’t know what you were getting into by involving yourself with this man. Blood soaks into your shirt as you look down at him. He’s definitely dead. While you knew of his immortality and regenerative abilities, you can’t help but be a little worried. What if… he doesn’t wake up this time? Blade would certainly want that, but you’re not sure what you’d do without him. His features are soft in the gentle starlight, and he looks… at peace. The only other times you could see him like this were when he was sleeping. After a few more minutes of just admiring him, you remember what you’re supposed to be doing. Your hands grab him from under his arms, pulling him along the cold ground, huffing as you do so.

“Why did you have to go get yourself killed…” you mutter to yourself. Blade is far too heavy for you to carry, so you’re forced to drag him around instead. Even then, it’s a demanding task. Your home was still around a couple of kilometres (roughly a mile) away. You felt like a murderer, bringing around the bloodied body and leaving trails of blood. How were you meant to go back to your neighbourhood like this? Your clothes and hands soaked in scarlet fluid, a dead man in your arms. Under the cover of night, perhaps no one would notice. You grunt as you hoist Blade up a few steps of stairs. Walking backwards, you don’t realize that you’re about to walk into a wall. Until you bump against it, of course.

You crash down to the floor, a piercing pain attacking your skull. Leaning against the wall, you try to lift Blade onto your lap. The effort of lugging him around and the throbbing pain in your head leave you huffing for air. You wipe your crimson hands on your thighs before hugging Blade against you.

“Do you have to be so reckless, Blade…?” You shut your eyes tight, trying in vain to block out the headache. “How am I meant to take care of you…” You hold him close, your face pressing into his back and his dark raven hair.

“I made a promise to you. So, now… I have to take you back home. Try to make this easy for me, okay?” His familiar scent filling your lungs is almost enough to make you completely forget that he’s a corpse as of now. Blood pools around you, soaking almost every inch of fabric covering you. Is it normal for someone to have this much blood? You can’t even tell where it’s coming from, seeming to just flow out of him.

“I love you…” you whisper, planting a gentle kiss on his head. Closing your eyes again, you try to catch your breath before having to drag him off again. When you finally decide to get up, the light of the stars seems to illuminate a path for you, leading the way home. Maybe that’s why they call it Stargazer Navalia.

After a few more minutes of struggling, your pocket buzzes. You’d forgotten that you were keeping Blade’s phone on you. Quickly reaching for the phone, you realize that it could only be one of the Stellaron Hunters.

You put the phone down and breathe out. Both at Silver Wolf’s ridiculousness and in relief that you won’t have to lug around Blade alone anymore. ‘Dear beloved one and only’ is a huge stretch. Though, it was a little nice for her to recognize your… relationship. The Stellaron Hunters were almost like your in-laws, after all.

“Blade? We’re gonna be home soon. Kafka said she’d come help me out.” You can’t help but let out a little chuckle. “I’m so helpless… I can’t even bring you back by myself. At least you’ll be safe soon, though. You’ll be in bed and awake before you know it, Bladie.”

He hated that nickname — saying it reminded him of someone he’d rather not associate with you — but you couldn’t help but call him it sometimes.

Knowing that Kafka is on her way, you decided to settle down for a little and wait for her. But before you can even sit, Blade’s phone vibrates with another notification.

ask before translating, taking inspo from (not copy), reposting, etc. my work. remember to credit me and if you’re taking inspo from it, please @ me as I’d like to see what you do with my ideas!

[wandas-lovey]

I’m being delulu so i started wondering (¡again!) what life with five would be post-season 3. But like…he’s a teacher in this…

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

* after all his siblings left when Reggie reset the universe you’re left with a mopey five

* you’re both pretty sad the first couple of days having just lost the people you love most :(

* but we don’t have time to be sad we need to get jobs!!!

* im gaslighting myself into believing that five and you have a place to stay the first night in the new timeline instead of being homeless 💀

* five becomes a teacher in the new timeline and you can’t convince me otherwise

* and what do you know!! you become a teacher too :D

* five would definitely teach math while you’d teach history (cuz you traveled through time when working with the commission, idk just go with it)

* while your classes may be a bit hard for the students you two are definitely the schools favorite teachers!!

* i mean why wouldn’t you be? the students can’t get enough of the two mysterious young teachers who showed up out of nowhere in the middle of the school year….

* you two definitelyyyy didn’t threaten the previous math and history teachers to quit their jobs or else they’d be dead by nightfall

* I just know many students are crushing on you BOTH. have you seen yourself lately? You look great ;)

* you both find it funny tho cuz they believe they’re crushing on teachers who are in their early 20s when it’s actually two 50 year olds in their younger bodies

* you two wouldn’t be the type to eat lunch with the rest of the faculty. you’d eat together in each other’s classroom enjoying your time together even if it’s for a short time

* five’s the type of boyfriend/teacher who interrupts your class for the dumbest reasons just cuz he wants to see you :,)

“can i borrow your stapler for a minute?”

“i’m in the middle of class right now”

“Yes I’m aware but i need to finish stapling the students review packets”

“you bought a stapler yesterday…”

“yeah but yours works better”

“OUT!!!”

*your students definitely find it cute :)

* after witnessing playful banter between the teachers that was a little too ~flirtatious~ the students get suspicious of what’s actually going on between their math and history teacher

* “are-are you and mr.hargreeves together..?”

* up until this point neither of you have confirmed to your students what your relationship was with each other

“unfortunately we are” you say with a smile on your face

*after confirming your relationship that day, your students spent the rest of the class asking you all types of questions about your relationship

“how did you and mr.hargreeves meet??”

“how long have you been together?”

“did you ask him out first or did he ask you?”

“why did you wait this long to tell us??”

*when your classes switch out and head to their next class with mr.hargreeves they try and pester him too about your relationship

“why aren’t you married yet?!?”

“ oh wow. i didn’t realize that was any of your business”

* you two are the kind of teachers to always be chosen to be chaperones for school dances.

*five definitely complains the entire night about being tired and wanting to go home

*who could blame him. watching over teenagers for hours making sure no one’s bumping uglies is exhausting

“how much longer till we can leave? This music’s awful. I’d rather throw myself off a building than be here.”

“Five…we just got here”

“What’s your point?”

*after a long night of watching over whore-knee kids, you head home ending the night with curling up on the couch and falling asleep in each other’s arms while The Breakfast Club plays in the background

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

i have no clue how to fucking end this 💀

also this shit ain’t proofread

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

A year later and this post is still better than the way season 4 ended 🤨🤨

[bonefall]

I’m not sure if you talked about it, but what do you think about A Thief in Thunderclan? I actually liked it, though it definitely had a few ehhh moments

Eh, honestly? Im kinda disappointed that James Barry had to go out on such a low note. I did not like it, it felt like a waste of time.

It wasn't like... offensively bad but I have very little good to say about it. It was fine. If you want to see more ThunderClan you can check it out?

(A lot of Thief in ThunderClan critique below the cut, I didn't like it much)

First of all, the mystery was just bad. I'm sorry. An owl? Swooping in at night for dead animals and leaving perfect scores in the dirt? It felt like a real "running out of ideas" type plot.

Brightheart was NOT fun to follow. She was uncomfortable for most of the story and secondhand embarassment is an emotion I really don't enjoy. Even moments that were supposed to be thought-provoking (like the Brambleclaw name confrontation) just felt like cringe because they were written so poorly.

Like, seriously? "Firestar why did you name Bramble after his father who disfigured me?" "Oh its because i uhhhh wanted to remind ppl of it so they would stop being reminded of it eventually" WHAT? That was a brainless enough choice when it was FIRST made, you can't fucking tell me any cat with a brain cell would go "wao... really makes you think... hngsociety"

I disliked the fact they decided to give Brightheart serious suspicion towards people like Longtail and Brambleclaw, I strongly disagree she would be like that. She feels so much to me like someone who would feel awful for doubting people she logically knows are innocent, and express to Cloudtail that it makes her feel like a bad person, but she CANT help it. She is such a kind, loving, and self doubting sort of cat... or, was, I guess? Or maybe it was never there at all and I'm the fool.

On that note? Her character arc was a mess. As much as I hate Shadow in RiverClan, I can say that Feathertail's arc was a competent *story*. Brightheart is having nightmares, suspects Bramble and Long of treason, is trying to figure out this mystery, trying to help train Rainpaw, the fact she resents not being his mentor is mentioned and dropped, she is pregnant... so much shit is going on and it feels absolutely unfocused.

And even worse, because it's overlapping with the beginning of Firestar's Quest, we end up having to Show Off The Continuity instead of telling a cohesive story. Oop Willowpelt died and Rainpaw is kind of sad about it! But wait we have to say bye to Firestar, make sure to squeeze in the Brambleclaw name confrontation before he goes! GO BACK Longtail has been blinded!! ALSO THE OWL! HERES WHY THE OWL WASNT MENTIONED IN FQ!!

And DUDE if there's anything that's a SERIOUS problem, it's Brightheart's stupid ass cutesy "look who's being USEFUL in here!" When blinded Longtail is helping out in the medcat den

First of all fuck you for the wording of that line! Second of all, GET IT THROUGH YOUR HEAD that disabled people shouldn't have to find a way to be "useful" to belong to their society.

The fact we're getting a book from Bright's perspective as a disabled person and the whole thing is chock full of "useful" language as she struggles with PTSD makes the fact this is COMMON in WC sting so much more.

Anyway back to just, normal critique and not frustration with ableism in wc.

I feel like they really wasted Brightheart's family. I enjoyed finally getting Cinder and Bright hanging out as sisters, but we got a MENTION of Frostfur, and barely anything with her brothers. It's already a mess so why not go the whole way?

Ashfur also has his post-TBC personality retcon which absolutely kills me. Why do we need this shitty "foreshadowing"? Why do we need him to have been so obviously controlling and argumentative? Why are these writers fucking allergic to having a villain that people thought was nice and normal once?

NITPICK: if i have to see another cat gently picked up by a large bird of prey without at LEAST getting a cracked rib I will shapeshift into 10,000 crows and fly away forever

I have some good feelings towards it though, and I have to be clear, this is actually Ambivalent Bones. I'm only mad at the "Usefulness" rhetoric, the rest is just my normal amount of whinging lmao.

I do really like Cinderpelt and Brightheart finally getting some interactions. It's long overdo lmao

I like Cloudtail and Brightheart as a ship so it's nice to see them hang out.

Uhhh this is a bit of a backhanded compliment but I liked how she was upset at not getting one of Whitestorm's children to mentor? I don't like how it bodes for the wider narrative though, because we know this ends in her getting shafted FOR YEARS and unable to get an apprentice. But I liked the plot setup of her having resentment for Cloudtail because of this. I thought that would make a really good plot point for putting a wedge between them to work through. Like, stop being cowards, LEAN INTO Firestar making some very serious, insulting, short-sighted mistakes, and it interfering with Brightheart's ability to heal. Kill your darling.

There were some nice lines. I do remember Ashfur's lame "greedyclaw" insult, which was funny.

I enjoyed the cute moments between the cats in ThunderClan. Ferncloud chasing after her kids, Brightheart convincing people to help her investigate, the Willowkin being upset about their mom. It's a mess but there's some nice stuff in that mess, y'know?

Overall, my memory hasn't been kind to it. I think I was giving it a 6/10 when I first saw it, but it's dropped down to a low 5/10. Not (very) offensive but too messy and pointless to revisit.

[rocketboots564]

Here is part one of my thoughts, notes, and reactions to Red Versus Blue Season 9 as a first time watcher!

Yes, I have heard the news about Rooster Teeth. No I will not let that stop me from binging this series one way or another!

The rest of each individual season will be posted separately instead of being a reblog of the first post… mainly because I saw how egregiously long my post on season 8 was.

Season 9 Part 1:

Epsilon… what do you mean nobody’s called you “Director” in a really long time? Sir, season 8 was probably just a couple months ago… I think…

I don’t know how much time has passed from S8 to S9

FIRST OF ALL TUCKER, CHURCH IS CABOOSE’S BEST FRIEND

Wait… how can you get winded if you’re an AI. I mean I know Epsilon is in a memory unit, but does that mean he relives everything in a human body too?

It does make sense that Epsilon doesn’t really know how to use a Rifle. Sure, Church (or Alpha? Imma stick with church) didn’t know how to properly use it either, but he did know how to adjust the scope.

“Torqued in my pants” pffft…

WOAH TUCKER?! You did WHAT IN ALONE TIME? WHAT THE HELL’S “ALONE TIME”? 😦

Erm… what the Metal Gear? I unironically love this stealth mission thing. And knowing South Dakota… I wonder how long it’ll take for this to go tits up…

I’m betting five to ten minutes

also, YESS THE BIG BUCKS BUDGET OF ANIMATED CG SCENES RETURNS.

South MY GOD LISTEN UP?! HAVE YOU NEVER PLAYED ANY STEALTH GAME?! Set up the MOTION DECTETORS!!!

As someone who’s had years of experience sneaking past light sleepers in the dead of night for snacks and video games… I could do this better than you South Dakota.

SOUTH THIS IS WHY WE SET OUR SOLITON RADAR!!! I mean motion detectors… sorry I got Metal Gear Solid on the brain

MY GOD THE ANIMATION?! THE TAG TEAMING?! What happened that got South Dakota to eventually abandon North Dakota?

I too could take 50 of them South… in a fight… definitely a fight

Oop I saw that in the background! Who’s that?!

OOH THEY BAITED ME WITH THE BLACK ARMOR! They almost made me think it Tex… it’s actually well… whoever this cyan lady is

Supportive Sarge? He WANTS to hear the blue perspective? He DOESN’T want to command and yell at his subordinates?

GRIF? CLEANING? Actually I could get behind Maid Grif.

“I actually like being talked down to” woah WOAH SIMMONS?! 🤨 real, me too…

I mean… at least Donut’s still kept his accidental yet somewhat intentional innuendos. And, also his diary apparently…

Damn SHUT UP SOUTH DAKOTA! SHUT UP!! NOBODY HEAR WANTS TO HEAR YOUR SHIT!

North? WHOAH ANIMATED FACES?! NORTH DAKOTA WITH THE CLUTCH!!

Medics = bad luck. Honestly… yeah for you guys they are.

THE PHOTOSHOPPED WET FLOOR SIGN AND MOP IS KILLING ME

The ultimate OTP battle: Caboose x Sheila versus Caboose x Email

Listen… Tucker… never in a million years will I ever call you Professor Fuck

Damn the Freelancer Program only has ranked mode? No wonder they’re all assholes

CONNECTICUT? SHE’S CT? Yeah I can see why you’re so mad about your low rank… you’ll get your shit rocked by Professor Fuck of all people. Fuck it… it’s a funny name

So like… you know you’ve got absolutely dogshit rizz when Caboose has a better shot at dating someone than you.

Speaking of which… Caboose is now in my top 5 of the most dateable guys in this show. Like take this quote from him:

“I just really want to meet someone nice. Someone who appreciates me for who I am not so much because I’m pretty but because they really want to get to know me…”

HOW HAS THIS MAN NOT WOOED THE HEARTS OF THOUSANDS?

Tucker has NO rizz…

Oh wow Epsilon, just drop the existential dread on your teammates like that with no warning. It is a damn good thing your teammates either don’t understand it or don’t care.

Huh… seems even in a memory unit in which everyone is different fate still finds a way to make Grif lazy and sarcastic again.

Then again, that’s kinda happening with the rest of Red Team as well, minus Simmons and Lopez

Also, LOPEZ IS BACK! And this time is immediately beefing with Simmons… or rather the other way around.

“I’ll show you who’s likable and funny, and who people like” SIMMONS BABY ITS YOU! YOUR THE ONE I LOVE! YOUR THE ONE I NEED!

I just like Simmons… a perfectly normal amount…

Conclusion: this season already fucking ROCKS I LOVE IT! HOLY SHIT THIS IS AWESOME!

[nerdasaurus1200]

Movie Night

Finally posting the Percabeth fic!

~~~~~

“How to Train Your Dragon?” Annabeth read aloud, “Is this some kind of instruction video?”

“Nah, it’s a movie about vikings.” Percy explained, “It was either that or Hercules and that kinda felt a little too on the nose.”

Annabeth looked at Percy like he was an idiot (he was growing so fond of that look), but put the disk in the dvd player regardless.

“Also my mom bought us kettlecorn as well as popcorn cause she thinks it’s a crime you never had any before.” Percy informed, “I got a feeling you’ll like this movie, Wise Girl.”

“Don’t count on it, Seaweed Brain.” Annabeth teased as the movie began, “It looks like it’s for little kids….wow. A dark village at night. Never seen that before.”

Percy couldn’t help but snicker a bit, “Just listen to Hiccup’s narration.”

“I’m sorry, Hiccup??” Annabeth did a double take, “His name is Hiccup? Who names their kid that?”

“Shhh, watch the movie.” Percy giggled.

“There’s something wrong with the dragons.” Annabeth said a few minutes later, “Predators never attack villages this much unless they’re really desperate for food.”

Percy took a handful of popcorn to keep himself from smiling. Of course Annabeth would correctly guess the ending of a movie just five minutes in. Percy’s smile though once the great hall scene started. As Gobber and Stoick spoke, the two kids looked at each other in understanding.

“Wait, what is that?” Annabeth asked when Hiccup was in the woods and saw the broken tree, “Is that from the dragon he caught? Is it dead?”

“Nope.” Percy carefully answered.

Later during the training scene, the two of them couldn’t help but giggle at Hiccup’s struggles.

“Oh man, this reminds me of Capture the Flag!” Annabeth laughed.

“This is exactly how I felt when you guys dragged me into Capture the Flag.” Percy said between fits of laughter.

“Does that mean Clarisse is the Gronckle?” Annebeth asked, and Percy choked on his soda.

“See, I told you, it’s not naturally dangerous.” Annabeth bragged later on, “It just thinks he’s a threat. He has to gain its trust.”

“Oh here it is, here it is, this is the best scene in the movie.” Percy lightly tapped Annabeth’s shoulder to get her attention.

“Wait, are they finally flying??” Annabeth’s eyes widened in awe, “He actually did it?!”

Later, during the more romantic flight scene Percy couldn’t help but feel…a little bubbly and achy. Something about the scene made him yearn now. Maybe during his next stay at Camp Half Blood he could earn his pegasus and he and Annabeth could have a flight just like this.

~~~

Annabeth’s eyes widened in pure fear as the Red Death finally emerged from the smoke. After a moment the fear was replaced with a smile of vindication.

“I told you! See, that’s the alpha and it’s taking all the food for itself! It’s making them attack!” Annabeth cried out.

“Look it totally makes sense! It’s like a giant beehive. They’re the workers and that’s their queen. It controls them.” Astrid said as if on cue.

“THANK YOU, ASTRID!” Annabeth yelled at the tv.

~~~

“I swear, if Stoick hurts Toothless I will never forgive him.” Annabeth muttered.

“Don’t worry, Toothless live.” Percy reassured.

“The fact that you didn’t say what condition he’s living in concerns me.” Annabeth gave him a stick eye and he inconspicuously took a sip of his soda.

~~~

“Genius, of course! Instead of fighting with the dragons, now they can use them to help further build the community!” Annabeth began to rant, “They could help each other hunt, they can build taller structures!….why are you looking at me like that?” She began to trail off at Percy’s smirk.

“You enjoyed the movie.” Percy stated smugly.

“No, I didn’t, Seaweed Brain. I just…hated it less than I thought I would.” Annabeth crossed her arms, clearly in denial.

“….Is there more of this?” She asked after a moment.

“They got two tv shows and two more movies.” Percy answered smiling.

[rubydubydoo122]

Jason gets de-aged because I've seen fics of Tim or Dick being de-aged, and Bruce losing his memory, but no one has realized the potential for angst if you de-age Jason.

Turns out, Bruce was taking the day off work, but that just made it that much harder for Jason to sneak into the batcave, with both him and Alfred watching him. They were doing that thing where they were hovering while still giving him space. 

Jason just felt so stupid . You would think with all the random memories popping up, one of them would’ve warned him that his mom was dead— oh wait . One of them did. So really, it was just Jason being dumb. He just really thought he could have a mom again. 

Despite how long it had been since his mami died, he still missed her. Maybe it was because with going from foster home to homeless, to crime house, he never really had time to really grieve her. And with Papi, it kinda felt like he wasn’t allowed to grieve him because Jason had already been living with Bruce for some time. And his Papi was a criminal, but his Dad was Batman. 

Jason barely even knew Sheila Haywood. According to Bruce and Alfred, Jason had only known her for a day. So why did he feel so hurt about this? Why did this grief feel so much deeper than anything else?

Cass somehow practically appeared out of nowhere and handed him a book, “My English is not the best. Can you read to me?”

Jason looked at the cover, “ Pride and Prejudice . This is one of my favorites.”

Cass smiled knowingly, so she probably picked it for that reason. Maybe she didn’t even need him to read to her. Maybe she was doing this for him. Which was honestly really sweet. 

Cass leaned against the arm of the couch, and Jason went to sit on the other side when she opened an arm, “Cuddles too.”

“You make a lot of demands Ma’am.” Though he did lean into her. “Do we do this a lot? Cuddle and read?”

She shook her head, “Not like this. When I’m hurt and come for help, we read.”

“But not smushed up together like this?”

“No. You’re too big.”

Right. He was as big as Bruce. That was kind of weird to think about. 

So Jason opened the book and started reading out loud. 

It was the copy he read out of the most. The spine was worn, not too much, but that perfect amount where you could easily flip the pages. It was a hardback, and there were post-it notes on the pages that his favorite scenes or lines were on. 

Cass would occasionally ask a question about why a character would be doing something, or what a line or phrase meant, and Jason would happily explain. 

Seven chapters in, Jason’s pace of reading was starting to slow down, and his voice was getting hoarse from talking for so long without a pause. 

Jason was tired. He had been tired since this morning, because of his nightmare, and the information he had gathered this morning didn’t make him feel any better. 

Sometime, while he was reading, Bruce had come in and sat on the other end of the couch. Jason did object when Bruce had gently taken the book from him, and started from chapter eight. 

Jason also didn’t object when Cass started carding her hands through his hair. It felt nice. It reminded him of nights when mami’s eyes were clear of influence, and she’d take care of him for the night instead of the other way around. 

Jason let his eyes close, and after a couple minutes Bruce stopped reading. 

“I’m not sleeping, Old man, just resting my eyes.” 

He was definitely just resting his eyes

Cass could feel Jason fully relax and hear his breath deepen. “He’s sleeping now.” 

Bruce had a gaze lingered on Jason. His expression was fond. Reminiscing. Though there was pain too.

“You did good this morning.” Cass made sure to keep her voice quiet. Jason was a light sleeper. He always heard her when she would come into his apartment after patrol.

“How do you know?” It was one question that asked two.

“I know you did good because you spoke what you needed to say. From your heart. You don’t do that often.” Bruce did not know about the blackmail group chat, and he wasn’t allowed to know so Cass wouldn’t tell him about the video Tim had sent of this morning. 

“I was trying not to make him upset, but I ended up making things worse.” Guilt . 

Guilt was always on Bruce’s face whenever he talked about Jason. Guilt, hurt, and grief.

“If you did not tell him about his mom he would be angry. He would go looking for answers. Answers he shouldn’t know. Not like this.” Cass swirled one of Jason’s curls in her fingers, “We have to keep him…” Not happy, because no one could be happy all the time, “We have to protect his light. And you did that. You told him what happened, then you comforted him. It is what he needs. Comfort. So you did well.”

Bruce looked away from Cass, “Jason is probably going to be so angry at me when he’s back to normal. He’s going to hate me for taking advantage of his young state and–”

“No. Not angry. Hurt . He thinks you don’t care about him anymore. When he’s big again, tell him you do. Even though you’re bad at it.” Cass smirked, “Add it to the mission.”

Bruce groaned, “Of course you know about that.” He got up, “I’m going to go back to looking for the sorcerer. If you or Jason need anything…”

Cass smiled, “I know. We’ll come.”

And Bruce gave her a tiny smile back. A smile that said, Thank you. A smile that said I love you. 

Tim had, honest to god, thought Bruce would try his hardest to avoid Jason, so imagine the whiplash he faced when Bruce actually gave Jason a very genuine sounding heart to heart. And a hug . But should he really be surprised? It was Jason.

He knew that when Jason went back to normal it would just cause Bruce even more grief. And that grief would just cause Jason to lash out at Bruce because Jason’s not dead anymore. 

He doesn’t want to deal with the fallout. He couldn’t do that again. Not when he had spent his entire time as Robin dealing with it. He was just so tired of the same cycles over and over again. It’s infuriating. 

Jason needs to step aside from the mantle of angry ex-Robin because Tim could feel himself slowly stepping into that role. Maybe that’s why all of the future versions of himself turned evil. Because he was just done with Batman’s bullshit. 

Tim was going to go back to his apartment after work, but because he had fallen asleep at the batcomputer last night, he still had some work to finish. 

Tim doesn’t know what he was expecting, but he wasn’t expecting to come home to find Cass on the sofa in the living room with Jason napping in her arms.

 He obviously took a picture and sent it in the group chat. All eight of them were in it, so even though they said it was for blackmail purposes, it ended up being something more… sentimental. None of them would admit it though. In their line of work, it’s hard to hang onto the happier things especially with how dark things could get. They've all had near death (or just death) experiences at least once. The pictures made it easier to remember the good times. It made them remember to savor it. 

Jason never responded in the chat, but Tim knew he read through everything . Tim knew he saved every picture posted. 

Maybe Jason wouldn’t like seeing his younger self so close with the rest of them, maybe Jason would see it as emotional manipulation. Tim was pretty sure he was the closest to Jason, and they only talked when their cases overlapped. Though, he hoped that Jason would see it as the rest of them wanting him in their lives. (He wouldn’t, but Tim could hope)  

Cass looked at him with a look that clearly asked what’s up?

Tim’s response look asked how long have you two been here?

Cass lifted up four fingers. So four hours. Or minutes, but four minutes seemed too short of time for Jason to be out like a light.

Tim debated something. The times Jason has physically dragged him around his apartment, or literally thrown him. Tim has tried to drag Jason off his couch before but it’s never worked, but now… Tim wouldn’t get the chance to do this any other time. 

Cass gave him a look that asked what are you doing?

Tim shrugged, and grabbed Jason’s ankles and yanked him to the other side of the couch. 

Jason yelped, and Tim barely had time to dodge a kick, “What gives?!”

“Please, Jason, this is light compared to the things you have done to me.” Tim took Jason’s now vacated spot and curled up next to Cass, “and it’s my turn now.”

Tim could feel Cass smirk. 

Tim was also pretty sure he was about to experience a fist to face, but it never came. There was a light pat on his head, “I’m only allowing this because you’re my baby brother, and I’m hungry, and I want food. Do you guys want anything?”

Tim blinked, “I’m not a baby– I’m not that much younger than you– I’m older than you right now!”

Jason took a blanket out of the shelf and laid it across both him and Cass, “Nope, doesn’t count. Boop!”

Jason booped his nose.  

Tim officially stopped working.

“I’m in the mood for…mm…churros, but Alfred’s probably gonna tell me to eat food first. So what’re you guys in the mood for?”

“Noodles.” Cass answered almost immediately. Was Tim the only one hung up on the fact that Jason booped his nose?

“Like… spaghetti and meatballs or..”

“Stir-fry. You make it spicy. Good.” she lowered her voice, “Better than Alfred.”

Jason laughed, “I don’t think that’s possible, but I’ll try. What time is it? Should I make some for Duke and Damian too? Is anyone allergic to anything?”

“2:43. Yes. No, Damian is vegetarian.”

“Got it!” And Jason skipped off to the kitchen.

Tim looked down at the blanket wrapped around him, and then touched his nose. Ok, it wasn’t out of character for Jason to take care of him. He’s definitely, on more than one occasion, taken care of Tim. It’s just usually, Jason’s really aggressive about it. Grumbling while making food for him, yanking his computer away from him, physically throwing him into his bed after he’s pulled multiple all-nighters. 

It was just weird how gentle Jason was being. Not weird. Different. 

He brought up the security footage from the living room and sent it into the group chat. 

Stephanie replied to a video: NOT THE NOSE BOOP >u<

Duke replied to a video: You really let the intrusive thoughts win when you yanked him by the ankles

Babs replied to a video: AWWWW 

Babs: Sunshine Jason making an appearance was not anywhere on my 2023 bats bingo board

Tim: sunshine jason is scaring me

Tim: this is too ooc 

Dick replied to a video: This is 2 precious

Dick replied to a photo: This is going 2 b my new lockscreen

Stephanie replied to ~Sunshine Jason is scaring…~: Don’t say that about my homie

Tim: jason would say ‘I’m not your Homie’

Stephanie: but sunshine jason wouldn;t

Duke: Steph

Duke: i’m sorry

Duke: but I don’t think sunshine jason likes you because of the picture you took of him tripping in his RedHood uniform 

Stephanie: dwdw I’ll change that

Duke replied to ~This is going to be…~: I thought you just changed it to Damian

Dick: I’ll make a collage

Tim replied to ~This is going to be…~: cass said her and jason were reading before he fell asleep.

Tim: hold up

Tim scrolled back through the footage, but stopped when he realized Bruce was there. Reading to Jason . And Cass, but still. Tim scrolled back a bit farther, and realized that Jason didn’t even have to drag Bruce into doing it. He just did . 

Jason’s back to how he was before he died and Bruce pulls out the love and affection that he apparently just had in his back pocket? That’s not fair . 

No.

It’s not fair for Tim to think like that. Bruce is probably just acting to make sure Jason doesn’t realize he died. Yeah. That's probably it. 

Tim scrolled back further and sent the clip of Cass and Jason reading together, and then stood up. “Ok, I know Jason’s a really good cook, but I feel like we should go watch him considering he’s barely five foot.”

Jason was grabbing some already chopped vegetables out of the fridge. Hopefully Alfred doesn't have plans to use them later. He already had the noodles in the boiling water, but he was going to wait until they were halfway cooked to start cooking the vegetables.

So he started heating up the water, sugar and oil for the churros. 

Jason's pretty sure only Alfred knew this, but Churros are one of his main comfort foods. Especially when he missed his mom. Sure he loved chili-dogs, but those only taste the best from a vendor. And Neapolitan Ice Cream was more like his go-to ice cream flavor. Why choose one when you could have all three? 

Churros reminded him of cold winter days when the heating wouldn’t work properly, and he and Mami would make them to warm up. Mami would always add a little bit of cinnamon and vanilla into the dough. The first time he had made churros with Alfred, Jason had forgotten about that, and they didn’t taste the same. Jason hasn’t forgotten the cinnamon and vanilla since then.

Cass and Tim walked into the kitchen and sat at the counter. 

Jason got out a wok and tossed the oil, chilis, garlic and onions in. None of them were saying anything, but it didn’t feel like an uncomfortable silence. Maybe they’d been doing this for years. Sitting in silence, while Jason cooked. The thought made his chest feel warm.

“When did Bruce take you guys in?”

Tim and Cass had a silent mind conversation. “I started hanging around the manor when I was 13. And then Bruce adopted me when I was 15. Bruce adopted Cass around the same time.”

Cass nodded, “I was 17.” She looked up to think about it, “you were 17 too, 18 when Tim came.”

Jason stirred the vegetables around before adding the noodles, “What about Duke. And Damian, I guess.”

“Talia kinda just dropped Damian off on a random Tuesday. That was also close to two years ago. Dukes the newest. He’s only been here for a couple months.” 

Jason nodded. “Got it.” He turned off the stove with the wok. Then he walked over to the fryer with the churro dough before pausing. “Am I allowed to use the fryer?” 

Tim shrugged, “You’re literally the only one allowed to use the kitchen.”

Even though Jason knows how to use it, it’s the one thing he has to have supervision while using. Because hot oil does not feel good on skin. But technically, he was being supervised. By Cass and Tim. And technically , Jason was an adult. And if Alfred got mad, he could offer him a churro and puppy eyes.

He turned on the fryer, and once the oil was all heated up he started piping the dough in. 

He had almost finished when the garage door opened, followed by the sound of footsteps. 

“Master Jason, you know you are not allowed to use the fryer without supervision.” Alfred was standing at the door with his hands on his hips and his I’m disappointed in you ™ face. 

Duke and Damian were also walking in, but tentatively.

“But I’m 20…”

Alfred pinched the bridge of his nose, but Jason could tell it was just to hide a smile. “You are physically and mentally 15. The rules from then apply now. You need supervision while working with oil.”

“Cass and Tim were here.”

Damian crossed his arms,“Tt, Drake hardly counts as proper supervision.” 

“Cass was here, but I won’t do it again. Sorry Alfred.”

Alfred took the piping bag from Jason, “Well, since the house is still standing, and you are not injured in any way, I suppose I will allow it.” Alfred placed a hand on Jason’s shoulder, “Go eat in the dining room with your siblings, I can finish up here.”

So there they all sat, slurping noodles. 

“Jason, this is really good.” Duke leaned closer to him and whispered, “I’ve been missing spice.”

Jason grinned, “Thank you.” And yes, Alfred’s cooking was good, but after some time you start craving some spice.

Tim sniffled and wiped his nose. His cheeks were pink, and–

“Drake, are you crying?” Damian took the bottle of chili flakes and shook it on top of his noodles, “I knew you were weak, but I didn’t think you were this pathetic.”

“I’m not crying, I just don’t have a super spice tolerance like the rest of you.”

Jason laughed, “If it makes you feel better, Bruce is worse. I once made Nachos for a movie night, and since he’s a white man, I left out the jalapenos and I only put, like, three chili in the salsa. This man ate two chips, and was guzzling milk.”

“Seriously?” Duke looked surprised.

Jason nodded, “Dick should have it on video somewhere.”

“I’m asking him for this right now,” Tim took out his phone, blinked a couple times and then put it away, “Duke, you do it, my eyes are too watery.”

Duke smirked and started typing away.

Cass patted Tim on the shoulder, “Not your fault for crying. You’re just white.”

That earned a laugh from everyone. Except for Tim. He just turned redder if that was possible.

Duke glanced at his phone, “Dick said, ‘I hv a whole folder. We can hv a viewing when I get home.’ Then Steph said ‘Batman’s Kryptonite are nachos’ and then Dick said ‘+ most of the things Jason has made bc he 4got that Bruce was yt man’ Jesus Christ, it’s like deciphering an anagram trying to read Dick’s messages.” 

Tim sighed, “Millennials.”

Jason smirked, Dick’s typing has always been so dumb. Some things never change.

He starts to picture this sight, but it’s his older self. He thinks he can picture his older self. He thinks he can picture his older self maybe playing a supporting role in the Fall play or Spring musical. He thinks he can picture what he would’ve written his college essay about– losing a family, only to gain an even bigger one. He can picture himself with Bruce in his office opening up acceptance letters to Princeton, or NYU, but he’d ultimately choose to go to Gotham University. Actually, maybe he was wrong about that. Damian did seem shocked this morning to see Jason in the kitchen. Maybe Jason goes far enough away to Dorm, but still close enough to patrol when there’s an emergency. Yeah. He can see Bruce and Alfred helping him move into his dorm. He can see himself coming back on some weekends. Maybe he and Dick have become closer as time passed, because He can see Dick stopping by his dorm to pick him up to head to the manor. Maybe Damian’s in the car with them, or Tim, or Cass, or Duke. He can picture Alfred waiting by the door to greet him. He can see Bruce pulling him into a hug and asking him how his classes have been going. He can see them all sitting at the table, Damian and Tim bickering, Stephanie egging them on. Duke and Cass trading food, and Babs and Dick holding hands under the table. He can feel Bruce’s fond, but barely there, smile. Jason could feel the longing in his chest for all of that. 

Though it felt like something was holding back that longing. Like there was something physically blocking Jason from all of that. “Are… are we close?” There was a beat of silence, and then Jason put a hand to his heart, “because I think I feel… I feel calm– at peace when I’m with you Cass.” He looked to Tim, Duke, and Damian, “And you guys are my little brothers. I feel like… I would do anything for you guys.” 

“Jason–”

“But I also feel…guilty?” Jason thought about it for a moment, “No. Ashamed. I don’t know why, but I think I’m ashamed of myself and–”

“Jason, stop.” 

Jason snapped his mouth shut.

Tim set down his fork and had a silent conversation with Cass and Damian. It didn’t seem like Duke was part of their mind conversation, but most of the guilt and shame bubbled up more around Damian and Tim. The guilt and shame felt like it was going to overflow around Tim.

Tim looked Jason firmly in the eye, “A lot was changing all at once during that time. None of us blame you for the way you reacted.” 

Jason carefully inspected Tim’s face. He was doing the weird double mask thing he was doing earlier in the bathroom, “But you got the worst of it.”

“...Dick is so much better at this.” he looked back at Cass and She nodded, “Did you remember anything specific?”

Jason closed his eyes and tried to trace the guilt and shame, but ultimately drew a blank. “..No. It’s more like I’ve been feeling it.”

Tim nodded, “What were you feeling before the guilt.”

“Longing.” He was sitting on a rooftop, red helmet next to him, watching five figures leap across buildings in the distance. “I think I felt… Alone.”

A sad smile briefly appeared on Tim’s face, “A lot was changing during that time. And Bruce and Dick didn’t make sure you felt like you still had a place. You probably were all alone, and I don’t blame you for feeling like that. I didn’t understand until something similar happened to me.”

“Tt, and what happened doesn’t matter anyways, because for all we fight, at the end of the day, you have our backs, Akhi. You would take a bullet for each one of us.”

“And Jason?”

“Yeah?” “Stop being such a sap. You’re ruining your own street cred.”

[berrypass-de-murdler]

87. The Water Tower Bar & Kill

Book 2+ update!

Fletch would prefer to make fewer designs and artworks. She is not dropping out, but doesn't generally like large projects and prefers to only make occasional designs when she has motivation.

Instead of reading and writing episodes in groups, I am going to take them one at a time to try and ensure there aren't many short duds

And episodes will be posted at night my time instead of the afternoon, so there will be a pretty big shift in posting time-

None of this matters to anyone but me lmao

DON'T READ THE EPISODES UNTIL YOU'VE FINISHED THE FIRST BOOK!!

Logi full-body gurgles, lacking a real stomach.

LOGICO: All right I will FOOD. Jesus.

He goes to the Water Tower Bar & Kill to get food. At least the food isn’t served up by Aubergine. But it’s still SO BAD!

LOGICO: EUGH! [spits out] This is SO BAD! What even is this? WAITER: ‘Chicken’. LOGICO: My god.

The waiter that just told him that suddenly drops dead! NOOO, THE VICTIMS CAN’T HAVE LINES OR WE GET ATTACHED TO THEM 😭

LOGICO: Well, there’s an excuse not to finish my food. MIDNIGHT: Oh, Deductive Logico. Funny seeing you around here. LOGICO: Don’t you have a movie to work on? MIDNIGHT: You have a movie to work on.

Dusty and Argyle are tearing at steak together, and some woman suspect is there too.

LOGICO: Who are you? MARENGO: WOW. VERY FUNNY.  LOGICO: No seriously. MARENGO: UGHHHHH.  LOGICO: Oh, ohhh… the background character. MARENGO: YES, idiot!

As if all this behavior wasn’t suspicious enough, Dusty is also inhaling a LOT of wine.

LOGICO: Where did you get that??? ARGYLE: This is a BAR, ya moron. DUSTY: UM, NO! I GOT THIS FROM MY OLD FRIEND FATHER MANGO! HE LOOOVES WINE! LOGICO: Yes, I’m aware. DUSTY: He taught me that wine is so important, I don’t even need the movie industry anymore. I have wine instead!

Logico doesn’t want to hear any more of whatever this is. 

DUSTY: On second thought, I gotta be somewhere.

He runs into the bathroom and never comes out.

ARGYLE: Good. I hate that bloody cheese-stick. MIDNIGHT: Ohhhh, lookit…

Midnight is admiring a framed DVD box set of his movies, hanging on the wall.

MIDNIGHT: It reminds me of my movies.

Logico gets a creepy text.

‘Hey bbg’

He screams aloud. He replies ‘WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE, FUCKING CREEPY ROBOT WITH A DESIRE FOR INTIMACY????’

‘It’s Irratino :’<’

‘OH.’

MIDNIGHT: Logico. Stop staring so endearingly at your phone. You have a job. LOGICO: Oh right. WAIT A SECOND! THE BACKGROUND WOMAN SNUCK AWAY!!

Logi finds her.

MARENGO: Okay… OKAY! Fine. FINE… I wanted to be more than just a FUCKING background extra. Not even… not even DEDUCTIVE LOGICO remembered me. LOGICO: Why can’t you just WORK HARD and develop yourself as an actress to break into the industry? 

Every single other person in the diner starts laughing VERY loud. Even Midnight. 

LOGICO: WHAT?? I’M SERIOUS!!

They laugh louder. 

LOGICO: STOP!!!

It is DEAFENING. Logico gets a headache and can’t hear his own thoughts, so he stumbles out of the building, letting another criminal go.

MARENGO: I’LL NEVER BE IN THE BACKGROUND AGAIN!!

Logico sits for an hour until his nonexistent ears stop ringing.

The end!

I'll be making the last three designs soon <3

Babi drag queen rat

I'm sorry for my mood T-T I'm having a lot of mental problems

The power of Goat Lord compels you!

See you next time murdlers!

[senashenta]

Horror High: Chapter Two

Title: Horror High

Pairing: Destiel

Rating: NC-17 (in future chapters)

Warnings: Sex, Violence

Summary: John Winchester plants his eldest son at Caspar High in Jacksonville because weird things have been happening there: people disappearing. People reappearing only dead and drained of all their bodily fluids. Cocoons. It’s up to Dean to figure out what’s stalking Caspar’s halls and deal with it accordingly; but then he meets the New Kid—newer than him, even, the New-New Kid—Castiel Novak, and all his plans get severely derailed. Now Dean has to juggle the supernatural case—a really hungry jorogumo—and also the fact that he’s very quickly falling in love, something that is absolutely forbidden by his dad.

Meanwhile Castiel, shoved into the third new school in a year because his adoptive father—Chuck Shurley’s—job has them moving around a lot, struggles to fit in at Caspar High, not only because he’s the New Kid but because he’s the weird New Kid. Dean seems like a saving grace, a harbor in a storm, someone who doesn’t judge him—that is until Cas finds out about Dean’s night job. Cas’s life just got a whole lot stranger—but that doesn’t stop him from falling for Dean, regardless.

Notes: Can also be read HERE ON AO3. New chapter next Friday! :)

HORROR HIGH TUMBLR MASTER POST HERE.

HORROR HIGH Chapter Two By Senashenta

Dean ended up walking him all the way home after all. Neither of them said much. Dean’s thoughts were whirling, and Cas seemed a little in shock, but not so bad all things considered. When they arrived at Cas’s house, though, Dean declined to go inside, instead just checking over the other boy’s neck again, then instructing him to clean it and bandage it, and promising he would explain the next day.

Then he took off back to the motel.

Cas followed Dean’s orders, going inside and straight up to his room, where he dried off, changed his clothes, and then bandaged his neck to the best of his ability. He spent the rest of the night laying in bed staring at the ceiling, unable to sleep or even focus enough to do homework because vampires were real. Vampires. Were. Real.

The next day he was tired but felt well enough to go to school and like hell was he going to not go and miss Dean’s promised explanation. He looked for the other boy in the lobby before classes started in the morning but couldn’t spot him, and eventually the first bell rang. He would have to wait until lunch.

When lunch time arrived, he hurried down to the gym to wait anxiously for Dean to show up, half expecting him not to—and was relieved when Dean came around the corner, heading toward him but avoiding his eyes. Why, Cas didn’t know. It wasn’t like Dean had done anything wrong.

“Let me see your neck,” Was the first thing Dean said to him, and when Cas tilted his head to the side, the older teen checked over the bandage there quickly before nodding, “that’s good, it’s… it doesn’t hurt, does it?”

Cas shook his head. “No.”

“Good. Come on.” Dean headed into the gym and Cas followed, and together they climbed in behind the bleachers and settled in their usual spot. Cas fished out their lunches and handed Dean his, but Dean just set his sandwich aside for the time being, something serious obviously on his mind. “Cas, I… I’m sorry. That should never have happened to you.”

Cas was halfway to taking a bite of his sandwich but paused and made a confused noise, “why are you apologizing? You didn’t bite me.” Then he stopped, lowering his sandwich a little and said, vaguely, “vampires are real.” Before asking, “am I going to turn into a vampire now? That’s how it works, right? At least that’s how it works in books and movies, I don’t…” And then, again; “vampires are real.”

That finally seemed to break a little of the tension that had built up in Dean, and he laughed weakly. “You’re not going to turn into a vampire. You have to ingest their blood, or get it in an open wound or something. That’s how they turn people.”

“Vampires are real.” Cas repeated.

“Yes,” Dean confirmed, “and they’re not the only things that are real, there are…” Trailing off, he hesitated before pulling a battered notebook out of his jacket—the notebook he was always scribbling in—and holding it out. “This is my journal. It’s… all the things I’ve Hunted. All the stuff I know, about all the things that are out there. My Dad’s journal is—I mean, mine pales in comparison, but you’ll get the idea.”

“Hunted?”

“Yeah, I…” Another hesitation. This was clearly hard for Dean. “I’m not supposed to talk about this to anyone. It’s the Big Secret. But my family, me and my Dad mostly, we Hunt things. Evil things. Monsters. It’s why we travel around so much, we’re always tracking things down to kill them. My Dad’s in Utah right now taking care of a poltergeist situation.”

Cas set his food aside entirely and opened the notebook, flipping through the pages slowly, just skimming some of the handwritten text and drawings. “Monsters are real.” He amended, “and you… Hunt them?”

“Pretty much.”

That made Cas frown slightly, and he asked, “then why are you here, Dean?”

Dean winced at that. “Yeah, about that.” He rubbed a hand through his hair and heaved a sigh, “there’s something going on in this school. You’re new so you don’t know yet. But people keep vanishing, and turning up dead and dried up, like husks. Boys. And male teachers. It’s been happening for a while now. So… Dad dropped me and Sammy here to take care of it. It’s my first solo Hunt. I’ve only ever Hunted with him before.”

“Hm.” Cas hummed, still thumbling through the notebook. “Can I… hang onto this? Just for today? I’ll bring it back to you tomorrow, I promise, I just…”

“It’s a lot to take it at once.” Dean agreed, “just don’t lose it.”

“I promise.” Cas nodded, and carefully tucked the notebook into his backpack. Then he picked his lunch back up and began to eat, slowly and deliberately. “Hey Dean, tell me more about your family, your Dad and the Hunting stuff.”

More hesitation, but slowly Dean began to talk, laying everything out for him, giving Cas a clear picture of who his dad was as a person and as a Hunter, the way he had grown up, always on the road with his dad and Sam, the different Hunts he had been on, the different monster they had killed, the different people they had saved…

And once the floodgates opened, there seemed to be no closing them.

Dean continued to talk for a long time, about his dad, about his brother, about monsters that needed to be tracked down and eliminated, and Cas just focused on the movement of his mouth as it formed the words, unable to look away until, a few minutes later, he abruptly leaned over and kissed the other boy, effectively silencing him in an instant.

Dean froze—but then surged into movement again, grabbing hard at Cas’s shirt and shoving him back to arms’ length, green eyes darting over the younger’s face. For a moment, Cas worried that he had just bought himself a punch. Maybe two. Maybe more.

Instead, something seemed to click in Dean’s gaze, and he pulled Cas forward again, dragging him into another kiss, hard and deep. Cas made a little surprised sound in the back of his throat but—well—he wasn’t complaining, so he just went along with it, poured himself into the series of kisses that followed until they finally had to part to catch their breaths, Dean’s hands still fisted in the front of his shirt, holding him close the entire time.

“Well.” Cas managed finally, still breathing hard, “I mean. Sorry.”

Dean actually barked a laugh. Releasing Cas’s shirt, he leaned back against the brick wall behind them and shook his head. “My Dad is gonna kill me.”

“No boys?” Cas ventured.

“No relationships.” Dean corrected, “it’s one of the rules. I don’t think he’d care that you’re a boy.”

“Oh.”

“A relationship is a weakness that can be exploited. If I was just screwing you he wouldn’t care.” Dean heaved a sigh and turned his head to look at Cas, almost appraising. Finally, he cracked a little smile. “I think you might be worth it, though.”

Cas blinked in surprise and couldn’t help the small smile that crept across his own face. “So, this is a relationship, then?”

Dean reached with one hand to grab at the front of his shirt again, tugging gently until they were close once more, and leaned in for another kiss. “Yeah, I think. If you want.”

Cas most definitely wanted, not even the weird monster stuff could change that.

-- --

Though he hadn’t really had a chance to do much exploring of Jacksonville proper yet, and he wasn’t what you would call the Mall Type, Cas had discovered a couple of little stores nearby to where he lived that he rather liked shortly after moving there. They were located in a strip mall a couple blocks from his house.

The first was a pet store, Chicks Dig It, which specialized in birds but also sold things for other animals, including fish food, for his goldfish, and crickets that he could feed to his pet tarantula; the second was called Parchment Paper and was a second-hand bookstore, nothing more needed to be said there, and the third, Magickal Things, was a store catering to the local New Age and Pagan community.

He frequented all three, but that weekend he was in Magickal Things looking for talismans to ward off nightmares and coming up empty. He was also just poking around, because every time he went into Magickal Things they seemed to have a ton of new items that he had never seen before. The place was an absolute treasure trove.

Today, he found himself sorting through the gemstones and reading up on their uses, then admiring the suncatchers that were displayed prominently in the front window.

And then he spotted the little box of sew-on patches and a smile brightened his face immediately. He began digging through the box to see if any of them spoke to him, humming over a couple before choosing one that was a hand, palm out with the palmistry lines labelled on it. He kind of liked that one. Then he continued digging—until he found one that was round, just a simple pentagram. He pulled it out of the box, too.

People tended to associate pentagrams with Satanism, but Cas knew from talking with the shop owner that they were actually powerful protection sigils. This was perfect. Now he smiled down at the patch, pleased, and headed up to the front to pay.

-- --

Two days later found him under the bleachers with Dean again, and he handed the older boy his lunch but didn’t get into his own right away, instead digging out the pentagram patch and his needle and thread.

“Dean, take your jacket off.”

Dean looked up from taking a bite of his sandwich. He grinned. “If you want me out of my clothes you just have to ask, Cas.”

Cas rolled his eyes. Ever since they had upgraded their relationship from friends to boyfriends, Dean had been incorrigible, and while Cas actually found it weirdly charming, he refused to let that show. “I’m serious, Dean, I have something for your jacket, just hand it over.”

Dean sighed and wiggled out of his jacket, somehow without setting his sandwich down in the process, and held it out for Cas to take. Cas muttered a quiet thanks and carefully placed the patch on the right shoulder of the jacket before starting to sew. Dean went back to eating but watched him curiously.

“What is it?”

“Pentagram patch.” Cas continued sewing, “I found it at one of the stores that I go to. Pentagrams are supposed to be protection, right? So, I thought…”

Dean’s chewing slowed and he swallowed the bite of food in his mouth. “Cas…”

“I don’t want anything to happen to you.” Cas explained, as if it wasn’t obvious. Blue eyes were still on his work as he sewed, but he could feel Dean’s gaze on him. “I mean—it might not be much, but I’m not a witch or anything, I can’t cast protection spells, this is all I can do. I can sew. So, I…” There was silence from the other boy until Cas was finished and knotted the thread, snapping it off before returning his sewing supplies to his bag and holding the jacket back out for Dean, not quite meeting his eyes. “Here. I hope you don’t mind.”

Dean took the jacket, but just set it aside and reached to grasp Cas’s wrist, tugging him closer. He leaned in to bump their foreheads together gently, then gave Cas a kiss. “You care about me.” He accused, just teasing, then; “thank you.”

“Of course I care about you.” Cas offered a little smile, embarrassed. “You’re welcome.”

The rest of lunch hour was filled with soft murmurs and peanut butter and jelly flavored kisses, all under the protection of the bleachers and a freshly minted pentagram patch.

-- --

The following weekend, on the Saturday, Cas was invited to the motel for a Research Day. Which, admittedly, did not sound like all that much fun. But spending time with Dean was always nice, and maybe he could even get some kisses out of the deal, so Cas agreed and, with some trial and tribulation, found his way to the Seafoam Motel downtown on Saturday morning with some help from google.

He and Dean had exchanged phone numbers a few days before just in case he needed to call with help with directions. Cas had questioned Dean’s beat-up old flip phone—the thing had to be twenty years old—and Dean had gotten minorly defensive. It seemed he was a bit of a technophobe, at least to a certain extent. Cas actually found it endearing.

Now he was standing in front of the Seafoam Motel, a dingy building with everything painted an off-putting (of course) seafoam green, which had obviously seen better days. But from what Dean had told him, it was pretty normal for the motels they stayed at: nondescript, cheap, discrete, with good locks on the doors. It made sense, if half of what Dean had told him about a Hunter’s lifestyle was true.

Cas pulled out his cell and called Dean’s number. When Dean answered, he didn’t even bother with ‘hello’, just asked, “which room are you in?”

Dean laughed, “eleven,” and immediately hung up.

When he knocked on the door to the room he’d been directed to, there was a long pause before the locks all clicked open and Dean pulled the door inward with a grin. “Hey!” He stepped aside so Cas could come in, “Sammy’s at the library so it’s just us for now.”

“I brought my laptop.” Cas nodded to his backpack, where he had stuffed his laptop, along with the charger, a couple of notebooks and his pencil case. “I thought we might need it.”

“Yeah, Sammy took his with him, so that’s great.” Dean closed the door behind them and stood there for a minute before announcing, “and that concludes the tour!”

Cas chuckled softly.

The room wasn’t large, but it wasn’t exactly small, either. It had two double beds, a small dresser with a TV sitting on top of it, a kitchenette with a wobbly looking table and a couple of chairs, and another door which Cas assumed lead to the bathroom. It wasn’t much, but he figured it had everything they needed. Dean and Sam were probably stepping all over each other, though, cooped up in there as they were.

“Do you two actually cook in here?” Cas asked.

“Are you kidding? We live on take-out.” Dean scoffed, then, “do you cook?”

“I can burn water, according to my Father.” Cas blinked at him, “why do you think I always bring peanut butter and jelly for lunch? It’s the only thing I can make.”

Dean laughed while Cas shrugged out of his backpack and set it on the table (which only wobbled a little, to its’ credit), pulling his laptop out—and he was just setting it down next to the backpack when Dean’s arms slid around him from behind, winding around his waist and holding him tightly. Cas uttered a soft surprised noise, but Dean was already kissing at the crook of his neck and—oh. Yeah, that felt pretty nice, actually.

Dean let go of his waist to grab hold of one of his hands and tugged him over toward one of the beds—presumably Dean’s—where he sat down and patted the spot beside him until Cas muffled a laugh and sat as well. “You’re terrible.”

“And you’re really damn tempting.”

“Dean,” The other boy was already leaning to kiss by Cas’s jaw, and Cas sighed quietly. “we’ve been together for about ten minutes. You’re being ridiculous.” But Dean ignored him, continued kissing along Cas’s jaw until a smile began to tug at the younger boy’s lips… and he finally turned his head to meet the next kiss with one of his own. “I hate you.” He mumbled against Dean’s mouth.

“You do not.” Dean mumbled back, grinning, and kissed him again.

Ten minutes later and the next thing Cas knew he was on his back with Dean pressed down overtop of him and they were making out like it was the end of days and they would never get a chance to do it again. They had made out before a couple of times, under the bleachers at school, but this was different.

Dean was half-propped up on one arm against the mattress, kissing Cas deep and firm and hot, his knee pushed up between Cas’s legs and grinding there slightly—and Cas was just going with it, because it felt really freaking good, his entire body thrumming with electric pleasure as he dragged his hands along Dean’s back.

He wasn’t sure if he wanted to admit it or not, because Dean would probably think he was pathetic, being new to all this at his age, but he had never done anything like this before—but then again, it wasn’t like his reactions weren’t giving him away, anyway, squirming and rocking under the other boy like he was a virgin. Which he was, but still. And then Dean’s free hand slid up under his shirt, feeling along his side to his abdomen, making Cas arch into the feeling and—

“DEAN! Oh my God gross! You know Dad’s gonna murder you for bringing a girl here righ—”

Dean practically jerked away from him when the new voice piped up from the doorway, leaving Cas to collect himself before sitting up carefully, hair and clothes mussed, to look over. The door was open and a kid no older than twelve or thirteen was standing there, backpack slung over his shoulder and gaping at the sight in front of him. This had to be Sam. Couldn’t be anyone else. Cas swallowed and licked his lips before lifting a hand in a pathetic half-wave. “Uh. Hi.”

“You’re not a girl.” Sam stated, sounding a weird combination of baffled and impressed. He looked at Dean. “And before you try telling me you’re just friends, you should probably put your hard-on away, dude.”

Dean sputtered and demanded, “there is such a thing as liking both, you know!”

“Oh, I know that.” Sam shrugged, “just didn’t think you did.” Then; “Dad’s still gonna kill you.”

Dean ran a hand through his hair and gave a pointed glare. “Not if he doesn’t know about it, Sam.”

“Ooooh, do I have one over you, here?” The grin that split Sam’s face was downright diabolical. “You are going to owe me for this.”

Dean muttered under his breath but finally agreed. “Fine. Deal. Just keep your trap shut about it, okay?”

Sam shrugged again, a seeming acceptance of the terms, and flung his backpack onto the second bed, then plopped down next to it to look Cas over. He had the same kind of analytical way of looking through a person as his older brother did, and Cas found himself shifting uncomfortably after a minute. Dean, meanwhile, announced that he was going for sodas and left the room entirely, probably just to get some air. Finally, Cas cleared his throat and nodded toward Sam’s shirt, where one of the pockets of his flannel was torn.

“What happened there?”

Sam blinked, surprised, and glanced down at his shirt. “Oh. New Kid hazing. You know how it is.”

Cas nodded. He did know how it was; he remembered the basketball incident his first day, the one that had introduced him to Dean. “I can fix it for you.” He offered and reached for his own backpack where it had been tossed on the floor, then opened it to fish out a spool of thread and a needle. “I always have this stuff on me, just in case. Give me your shirt and I’ll sew it up.”

When Sam looked skeptical, Cas flipped his bag around to show off the collection of patches that were sewn across the front. “I did them all myself. I’m actually pretty good at sewing. This one is my favorite.” He tapped one finger against the pair of black wings in the top center of the backpack. “Like angel wings, right?”

After another moment of hesitation, Sam shrugged out of his flannel and handed it over. Cas smiled and immediately got to work. When Dean came back a few minutes later Cas was deep into sewing the tear in Sam’s shirt and barely acknowledged him when he came in the door. Dean tossed a can of soda over to his brother and nodded toward Cas, “what’s going on here?”

“He’s fixing my shirt.” Sam offered with a blink.

“Oh, yeah, he does that.” Dean set another soda down on the bed next to where Cas was just finishing tying the thread off and snapping it with his teeth, then crossed over to perch on the edge of the kitchenette table. When he was done, Cas smiled down at his work, then tossed the shirt back to Sam, who made a kind of hmm face at him before muttering a thanks around the rim of his drink. Cas sat back, hand bumping into the soda that was sitting next to him, and picked it up to open it with a little thanks of his own. Dean just smiled at him from his position safely behind Sam’s back.

“I have two questions.” Sam announced finally, as if he couldn’t stand the silence.

Cas’s eyebrows rose a little. “Mm?”

“Okay, first, what’s your freaking name, dude, I mean really? I walk in on you and my brother—uh. Doing things—I don’t even want to know what—and you never even introduced yourself?” The younger boy sounded exasperated.

“If by walked in on you mean interrupted.” Dean groused.

Cas nearly choked on his cola, but Sam had a point, there, so once he’d coughed a couple of times, he waved one hand placatingly. “Castiel. I’m Castiel. But just Cas for short is fine.”

“Nice to meet you, Cas.”

“Nice to meet you, too, Sam.” And then; “what’s your second question?”

Sam’s eyebrows lifted and his eyes flicked to Cas’s backpack. “Why are your angel wings black? Shouldn’t they be white?”

“That’s two questions.” Dean pointed out. Sam gave him a flat look.

That was actually a good question, though. Cas smiled to himself almost absently as he considered his answer, one finger tapping against the can in his hands. “I think… angels are God’s warriors, right? That’s how they’re portrayed in the bible a lot of the time. I mean they’re also portrayed as loving and forgiving and graceful, too, but… anyway. I think to be the kind of warrior that God calls upon you would need to get your hands dirty. I think angels probably aren’t the pure, sinless beings that everyone paints them to be. If that makes sense.” He tilted his head slightly, “hence the black wings.”

Sam frowned a little in thought before admitting, “that’s an interesting theory.”

Behind him, Dean just rolled his eyes. “It’s all bullshit. Angels aren’t real. Ghosts are real. Chupacabras are real. We Hunt all kinds of things. But angels? Not so much.”

Sam’s head whipped around, and he stared hard at his brother. “Dean, does he know?!”

“Uh.”

“You told him!”

“I—wh—I mea—” Dean hedged with half-words for a moment, then set his can of soda down and gave Sam a firm look; “we got ambushed by a vampire on the way home from school the other day and I just—what was I supposed to do? Cas saw everything and deserved answers!”

“It’s the big rule, Dean!”

“I know! You think I don’t know?!”

“Was this before or after you started making out with him?” Sam demanded, and when Dean gave him a look, he informed; “just trying to figure out your state of mind, that’s all!”

Dean grumbled but allowed it. “Before.”

Sam continued staring hard at Dean, Dean staring right back, neither of them blinking—until Cas interrupted their little stand off, shifting in his seat, to offer, “I understand how important what Dean told me is. Why it’s all a secret. Telling people could get you hurt, right? But I promise, Sam, I’ll never tell another soul. I care about your brother too much to put him—or you—in danger like that.”

Sam turned back around to face Cas again. “You care about him?”

“Yes. Of course.” Cas nodded, then added, “I don’t kiss people I don’t care for.”

Dean snorted softly and muttered, “oh, please, I was your first kiss and we both know it.”

“Is that a bad thing?” Cas asked with just the faintest flush.

A little, quirk of a smile tugged at Sam’s lips. He heaved a sigh. “Okay, I mean, the cat’s already out of the bag. All we can do is trust you, right?” He looked back at Dean again; “what are you going to tell Dad?”

“Nothing. For now, anyway. What he doesn’t know can’t hurt me.” Dean gestured toward Sam, “don’t you tell him.”

Sam held his hands up placatingly, “I already said I wouldn’t.” And then, “but you still owe me.”

“What does he owe you?” Cas questioned curiously.

“Mmm. A favor.” Sam’s reply was contemplative. “To be determined.”

“I hate this.” Dean muttered.

“You should.” Sam confirmed with a little grin. Then he turned his attention back to Cas to ask, “anyway, what are you even doing here? Aside from the obvious.” A quick glance toward the table, “you brought your laptop, so…”

Cas shifted slightly and ran a hand through his hair, trying to make sure it wasn’t still mussed all to hell. “Dean wanted me to come over and help with research, about whatever’s going on at the school.”

“Research…” The younger teen drawled, “riiiiight.”

Dean made the motion of smacking Sam up the back of the head but didn’t actually do it. Cas laughed. “You were at the library and things just… happened.” He, at least, had the decency to look embarrassed, “but now that you’re back we really can do some research if you want. Though honestly, I’m not really sure what I’m looking for. Dean said something about dried up bodies?”

Sam hesitated just slightly before nodding and adding, “and cocoons. We’ve had at least one cocoon.”

“Cocoon.” Cas stated almost blankly.

“Yeah, cocoon.” Dean sighed and set his can of soda down, heading over to sit down next to Cas again, “look, you don’t have to be here. You can just go. You don’t have to have anything to do with this.”

But Cas shook his head, “no, I…” He frowned. “I want to help. I can’t know about these things and just do nothing.” He wasn’t a Hunter himself, but the least he could do was help with a little research. That couldn’t hurt, right? He stood up and crossed the room to grab his laptop. “So, lets’ get started. What’s the wifi password here?”

Sam looked at Cas for a long moment before glancing toward Dean and saying, “I like him.”

Dean just regarded his new boyfriend fondly. “Yeah, so do I.”

-- --

The three of them hung out and did research for a couple of hours, then Dean left to go get lunch and bring it back. Lunch turned out to be cheeseburgers, which Sam did not seem surprised or particularly plussed by. He ate the food anyway with only the briefest of complaints about all the grease.

While they were eating they talked some more, just about school and other bland topics, and Cas and Sam exchanged phone numbers. Once they were done, they went back to work, until Cas had to pack up and leave around four to walk home—so he would be home in time for dinner and his father wouldn’t worry about him.

Dean pulled him into a couple of little, lingering kisses at the door before he disappeared, and Sam watched the whole display with sharp eyes, taking it all in. He had never seen his big brother act this way before. It was… different. Not bad, necessarily, just not the norm.

“What?” Dean demanded as he closed the door behind Cas and went about locking it. He could feel Sam’s eyes on him even with his back to the younger boy.

Sam looked back down at the book in his hands. “Nothing. I just like your boyfriend, that’s all.”

Dean sputtered and tried to protest, “no, it’s not like that, Sammy, Cas and I are just—”

“Fuck buddies?” Sam suggested without looking up from his book.

“Who taught you that?!” Dean demanded, then waved his hands dismissively and began pacing up and down the room restlessly, “we’re not having sex, Sam!”

“Sure looked like that was the direction you were headed earlier.”

“You are taking that completely out of context!”

“You were on top of him and had your hands up his shirt.” Sam glanced up with a raised eyebrow. “And then you made eyes at each other the entire rest of the time he was here. Like the whole time.”

“We did not!”

“Dude, seriously, Dad is going to murder you if he finds out.”

Dean stopped and pointed a finger at him. “You promised you wouldn’t tell him!”

“Oh, so now there’s something to tell?” Sam smirked—then finally took pity on his older brother. Sort of. He closed his book and chucked it at Dean, but at the same time informed him; “I won’t say anything. I did promise, and besides, I do like Cas. He’s nice. You could do worse.”

Dean swatted the book out of the air and flailed his hand a little before regarding Sam suspiciously. “Really?”

“Believe it or not, Dean, I do not thrive on your misery. Besides, you know how I feel about most of Dad’s rules.”

There was a brief pause before Dean said softly, “thanks, Sammy.”

Sam tilted his head a little, curiously, “you really like him, don’t you? I mean more than the girls you’ve been with before.”

“I… yeah.” Dean agreed, almost embarrassed now; “the girls were just sex. Cas is… different.”

“Well, he’s a dude, first off.”

“No! I mean—yeah, obviously, but that’s not what I mean, and you know it.”

Dean was standing there, so obviously flustered over the entire thing that Sam finally just sighed. “I get it.” He said softly, “you like him, capital L ‘like.’ It’s like your first real crush that isn’t on a celebrity, it’s a big deal.”

“It’s not a crush, it’s…”

“I know, I know. I told you, I get it, Dean. You’re allowed to like someone, and who cares if it’s a guy?”

Dean stared at him for a few seconds before dismissing embarrassedly, “you’re thirteen, what do you know?”

Sam gave him a knowing little smile. “Apparently more than you.”

[canirove]

Rúben Dias Imagine | two

Author’s note: Had this sitting on my drafts for a while, and thought, why not post it today that he finally played again? 😅 It’s something very random inspired by a prompt I saw here on Tumblr about jokingly catcalling someone in a different language, and not knowing they can understand that language. Hope you like it and thank you for reading! 💜

Masterlist

"Ok, ok. Repeat it again. Slowly."

"Te daba... Como cajón... Que no cierra."

"I think I got it. And it means?"

"Basically that you want to fuck him." 

"I mean literally, Sam" I say, rolling my eyes.

"Well, you know when you can't close a drawer and you start hitting it with your hips or your bum?"

"Oh..."

"Exactly. Which is what you want to do to Rúben. Or him to you" Sam says, elbowing me in the ribs.

"Yeah, yeah. But I can't tell him that, I'm not crazy."

"You'll have to be very drunk to say it, and we can't get drunk at a work party."

"We cannot."

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

"Rúben!" I giggle, walking towards him. "Hello."

"Hello. Enjoying the party?"

"Very much. You?"

"It's ok."

"I have something to tell you" I whisper.

"You do?" he asks, arching an eyebrow.

"Yep. Te daba cajón cierra. Wait, no. That wasn't it" I laugh. "Give me a second... Ok, got it. Te daba como cajón que no cierra."

"I beg your pardon?"

"¡Te daba como cajón que no cierra!" I repeat, giggling like an idiot.

"Do you... Do you know what that means?"

"Yeah, Sam told me."

"But the literal translation or...?"

"I know what it means, Rúben. Do you?" I ask, trying to give him a mischievous smile.

"I do, yes."

"Oh... I thought you were Portuguese!"

"I am, but I also speak Spanish. It isn't that different from Portuguese, and my longest relationship was with a Spaniard, I learnt the language while we were together."

"Hot and intelligent" I snort. 

"Thank you?" he chuckles.

"And probably taken. A guy like you is definitely taken. Like, who am I kidding?"

"I'm single."

"And I'm the Queen of England!" I laugh. "Wait, no, she's dead. And I'm not dead. I am alive. Very alive!"

"And drunk. Very drunk" Rúben laughs.

"Don't tell our boss, please."

"It'll be our secret" he winks. "But you should stop drinking."

"And go for a wee."

"Do you know where..." 

But I don't hear what else he says. I'm already running towards the bathroom, feeling like I'm going to explode.

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

"Morning."

"Hm" I grunt.

"Or should I say buenos días?"

"What?" I say, looking up from my coffee and meeting Rúben's eyes. He's talking... To me?

"How is the hangover?"

"The worst ever" I say, focusing again on the coffee machine and trying to process that Rúben knows I exist.

"Did you drink more after going to the bathroom? I didn't see you again."

"Wait, what? We... We spoke last night?" I ask, looking at him again. He looks so fresh and handsome while I look and feel... So ugly. Disgustingly ugly.

"You don't remember?"

"I... Maybe?"

"Dear God" he laughs. "Wait, too loud?"

"Yeah" I hiss.

"I'm sorry" he says with an apologetic smile. "But yes, we spoke last night. You shared with me your knowledge of the Spanish language."

"No!" I say, everything around me starting to move.

"Wow, careful there" he says, grabbing me by the arm and making me sit down. "Are you ok? You just went so pale..."

"I'm fine, I just..."

"You should have stayed home, call in sick."

"I thought I had dreamt that."

"What?" Rúben asks. He's sitting in front of me with his hand still on my arm, his thumb making small circles that instead of soothing me, are making me feel more dizzy. Though I don't want him to stop, to be honest.

"Me saying that in Spanish... I thought I had dreamt it. Did I... Did I also kiss you?"

"No, you didn't" he chuckles. "That was part of your dream."

"Oh, thank God" I sigh. "Not that kissing you is something bad, it's the total opposite. I guess. I don't know. I should stop talking, shouldn't I?"

"What you should do is eat something, you still look very pale."

"I'm not hungry."

"But if you don't eat, you may faint, this time properly, and I may not be there to catch you. You must eat something."

"Ok..." I whisper, trying not to think too much about his arms around me.

"Wait here, I have some energy bars on my desk."

"You don't have to, Rúben."

"I insist" he says, getting up from his chair and letting go of my arm, already making me miss his touch. "Just promise me you won't run away anywhere like you did last night."

"I won't, I promise."

"Chocolate or apple?"

"What?"

"Nothing, I'll bring both" he laughs before disappearing through the door, leaving me thinking that besides being hot and intelligent, now I also know that he is extremely cute and caring, which means that my crush has gone from 10 to 100. Great.