#and they taught him some stuff about being on the road and convinced him to dye his hair

[dilf-docs]

All Roads Lead To Rome

pedro pascal x younger!reader

summary: your boyfriend swears he isn't annoyed at your little surprise visit on the set of gladiator II; you might have to help him release his anger, one way... or another.

warnings: 18+ (minors dni), age gap (BARK BARK BARK), smut, p. in v., bit of exhibition kink cause they fuck on his trailer, he swears he's mad but he just wants head, oral (m. receiving), he also uses his armor and skirt while at it bc its hot and not bc i totally want that to happen to me or smth!!!, brat taming, orgasm denial, breeding and daddy kink lowkey, i'm so down bad for him so there's fluff!!! + pedro being whipped cause that's exactly what i want in my men, the cast makes cameos bc i love them!!! use of spanish (i'm latina so don't even try me), pedro wearing a skirt tehee

word count: 3,519 words

side note: i'm about as FERAL and horny as much as one could be!!! damn u pedro, making me walk out in the middle of class and walk on foot to the nearest theather for an early gladiator II screening (bc they're cheaper and i'm a jobless broke student lmao) that mind u it's my first solo trip to the movies but it's okay!!!! nobody interrupt me on my horny dilf hours amirite I TELL U that cinema was almost empty: just me, pedro and hey there's a spot if u wanna join mescal (look at my blog banner IYKYK) so yeah!!!! enjoy this porn lovechild that steemed from it; my pedro renaissance that'd been asleep since tlou dropped AWAKES (u don't get it, i literally watched narcos just for him) i'm so fr i need this man BIBLICALLY!!

"Lemme guess, that's her, right?"

Pedro looks up from his phone, slightly red and embarrassed. He would blame the color on the sun, and as an actor, fake his way out.

"No idea what you're talking about, Paul"

The young man chuckles.

"I mean, every break we get, you take your chair, sit the farthest and pull your phone with the most ridiculous grin I've ever seen. I'm afraid to tell you, friend, you aren't as slick as you think"

He leans back against the chair, covering his face with his large palm.

"At least I tried" he finds no point in lying anymore, "seems like I'm addicted, but if it wasn't for y/n, I wouldn't touch it"

"I'm curious, though" Paul scoots his chair closer, "who texts who? You or her?"

"Me" he answers, but then corrects himself quickly, a bit ashamed of how that makes him sound, "but it's mostly her first".

"Right" he doesn't sound convinced, rather curious and annoyed, something he's too old and tired for, "I don't believe you"

He's about to lock his phone, but the wallpaper (a selfie with you) would probably earn him another mock from Mescal.

"Too bad I don't need you to"

Before he can do so, the irish man yanks his phone away.

"Give it back!" he shouts, earning a few glances from the crew around them, "what are you, ten?"

"No, twenty-eight" they look like kids bickering. "No need to fight me, Mr. Pascal, they haven't taught us the new fighting choreography yet" he mocks, before the phone chimes; they both stop at the sound.

"What does this mean?" Paul asks. "Malta's nice" he reads out loud, "were you talking about possible future vacations? I might have to tag along"

He doesn't follow the man's joke, instead, looking at the message on your chat. Malta's nice, says the little cryptic message, and yes―it is cryptic, because you were just talking about missing each other and some other corny stuff he'd take to his grave. Not vacations, and certainly, not about the european island, which happens to also be the place were he's filming his latest movie.

"No, we weren't" he replies confused, "what do you think it means?"

"Well, obviously, you boys don't know anything" May pops up from behind, laughing.

"Were you eavesdropping?" he asks playfully, albeit, a little offended.

"No, you guys are just too loud" she replies nonchalant. "Besides, you aren't very good at hiding it, either"

"That's what I said!" Paul backs, laughing on his face.

"Stop being misterious and just drop it"

"It means" she pauses―laughing at her own little dramatic effect, "that you're getting a visit soon"

When you met Pedro, you were working in The Last Of Us. Nothing fancy, just part of the technical cast of the show: helping with the filming and stuff.

During those months, it was easy to find yourself falling for the main star (alongside Bella Ramsey), especially when you spent months behind a camera, capturing all of his perfect features; learning them by memory until you could draw them without seeing his face.

Yes, you had fallen for the older man, because it was as natural as breathing; easy as being alive―the fall so gentle and so easy, it was hard to know when the feelings started. You just woke up one day, feeling different.

You liked to act up―always had what you wanted, and times had changed (so it's not like he had to ask first): why not? Which is why during your last day of shooting you took some liquid courage on your veins and went up his way. It was at a little gathering the crew you've grown to call family organized, while wearing your favorite and tightest dress, that you approached him.

It surprised you that he even recognized you, but that's who he was: warm, welcoming and caring.

To augment the surprise, turns out he had eyed you already, but was too shy to do anything. Yes, the worlds most famous Chilean man. It did stroke your ego, and maybe that's why you feel like most of the time, you've got the upper hand on your relationship, despite the years in between.

You know your boyfriend isn't exactly the type to scold or get mad―despite his strong figure, but going against the only thing he asked you might test him. Which is why you feel nervous, despite the happiness around you, everyone in the airport looking straight out of a picture perfect summer edition magazine.

Still, you feel like the last message you just sent was a bit too blunt. Now you sit at the tiny airport, pondering your next move.

And your theory is proven exactly right when you arrive impromptu at the Gladiator II set: making heads turn and guards almost kick you out, thinking you're a fan.

"You don't get it!" you protest, "he's my boyfriend".

"Sure", they laugh on your face. "you're not the first to say that".

"She's not lying" oh, how you love that gravely voice. But not today: not when he sounds like a parent scolding a naive child. Not when his eyes bore into you, slightly irritated.

So now he's dragging you among the set, right to were his trailer is.

"Aren't you going to introduce me?" you ask, puffing your cheeks out in annoyance. He keeps dragging you by the arm, without sparing a glance in your way. Who does he think he is? "I wanted to tell Paul he made me cry―twice. You know I don't play about Normal People and Aftersun"

"But you do seem to play about my orders" he grunts out, opening the door to his trailer. The sunlight reflects against the white, slightly bothering your eyes with its shine, contrary to your boyfriend's gloomy behaviour.

"Are you being serious right now? You're not my dad to scold me. I just wanted to surprise you" you stand still, refusing to get inside. Pedro knows your character tends to be stubborn, and thought he finds it hot to reel you up sometimes, there are other times where he can't just stand that juvenile spirit of rage you tend to have when things don't go the way you want them to. "What's gotten into you?"

"I could ask you the same" he mocks. "Get inside. Now"

"Rude" you scoff, but obey regardless, and he breathes out relieved you didn't do a scene like last time; he still can't show his face on that restaurant to this day.

"I thought you'd be happy to see me" you say a tad bit dissapointed, and Pascal feels the pissed off feelings clouding his brain start to dissipate.

"I do, amor" he sighs, "just hate to see you do things I tell you not to; waltzing in here like you own the place".

You don't see the mistake, though. What's wrong with wanting to do a little surprise? It's not like you were a stalker or something; just a very clingy girlfriend who happens to miss her boyfriend.

"So, you're not mad?" you venture, "tell me you're not embarrassed"

He looks at you, the fondness of his gaze betraying him.

"I'm not the one wearing a skirt while trying to sound intimidating" you joke while caressing the crook of his nose, knowing you always get on his good side. Being mad isn't something that lasts, "if anyone should be embarrassed, that's you"

"Are you saying I shouldn't wear one because I'm a man?" your boyfriend looks offended, "Have you forgotten the movie I'm starring in? People feared the skirt-wearing Roman army"

"Well, I'm not intimidated" you stand defiant, and something dark tints his brown eyes. You can feel the excitement begin pooling in your stomach.

"You're not?" he grips your wrists and yanks you to him, then holds your chin, tilting your head between his calloused fingers. "Well, cariño, you should be"

Your body slams against one of the trailers walls, and you have to suppress a whine.

"You must be punished for what you did today"

You give him a doe-eye look, pretending to be all innocent, as if you weren't enjoying the punishment.

"I don't know what you're talking about. I've been a good girl"

"You know exactly what I'm talking about" he clicks his tongue, "don't play dumb with me"

"I just came to visit you" you murmur, voice husky against his ear. He grunts, and with the proximity, his hard-on rasps against your bare legs, only partly covered by the flowy summer dress you're wearing, "is that so bad?"

"It is. Has sido mala, cariño" his hand travels down under your dress, carresing with his large palm the silhoutte of your ass. The rings on his fingers create a shock, cold metal against your warm sun-bathed skin. "Naughty girl"

"I promise I'll be good, papi" you purr, using that honeyed voice of yours that makes it hard: hard to say no and hard between his pants.

Pedro sits on a small couch he has inside the trailer, guiding you with his hand enveloped around yours, motioning you to follow with a care so soft, you'd doubt he's about to do to you what he is about to do to you. He pulls you across his lap, smiling (God, you love his smile) as your stomach presses against his tights.

"Don't worry" he breathes low, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'll make you a good girl. Tell me, aren't you?"

You swallow, "I am"

He moves the panties easily to the side, rubbing your pussy a little. He then spanks it softly, making you mewl at the sting.

Pedro continues to trace over it, "Are you sure about that?"

"N-no" you shiver in delight, resolve dissolving as quick as it came. "I'm naughty"

"It's good to be aware" he murmurs, "Dilo otra vez"

"I'm a naughty girl"

He lifts your head by your hair. "Tell me what you did"

"Disobeyed your orders, coming to the set" you whisper. He lets go of your hair, his hands traveling down again, slowly teasingly rubbing your pussy while he humms.

"You were a little brat, amor"

You whimpered and mewled in delight. "I was a very naughty brat"

He pushed his fingers inside you, plunging his fingers into your pussy.

"Look at you. You're soaking wet" he pumped his fingers in you, making you moan, "Is that why you came to see me? Couldn't wait any longer for daddy to be inside of you?"

You bucked a little, making him stop. He drags his fingers out, causing you to beg for him to go back.

"Answer my question you greedy thing" He leaned closer to your ear. "Did you need my cock this much?"

You whimper, "I do! Missed you so much"

He pushed his fingers back into you, provoking a moan out of you.

"You're always so needy for me" your core tenses, making you shiver. "How badly do you want me? Tell me"

You whimpered "Badly, papi"

"Say it" his face contorts in satisfaction at your pathethic display; crying little mess, "Who's cock, fingers and mouth make you feel good?"

You can't think at this point, your brain fuzzy and pussy hot, leaking. You kiss his lips, moaning against them, "you!"

"Just me, yes? Nobody else can make you feel this good?"

"No one!"

You involuntarily roll your hips to aid you in pleasure, yet Pedro stops you just before you can reach your orgasm.

"Little brat." he tuts, making you groan. "Did you think I'd let you? You were naughty today, baby"

You huff in annoyance, used to having your way.

"That's your punishment"

"But I'll behave" you mewl against his ear, "I promise"

“Good, because I'm planning on fucking your brains out” his hot breathe whispers in your ear seductively, trying his best not to slur the words at the drunken haze that your arousal provokes in him, "but you have to help me first"

You get on your knees, looking at the garment he's wearing. The skirt and general costume makes this all the more hot, mouth watering at the sight. You raise the skirt, glancing at the briefs; just seeing his dick strained against the fabric makes you wet in anticipation.

He sees the pleasure bore into your orbs, and before you do any dirty idea of yours, he's already warning:

"You have to take this off, what if we-"

"Alright" you cut him off, "but the skirt stays"

"Sigue, pues" he growls, voice low yet demanding, following you in your little game.

As you pull the briefs down, his erection springs out enthusiastically, slapping up against his lower abdomen. You shifted your gaze up to meet his, his eyelids heavy and his proud smirk driving you absolutely wild.

"That's right" he chokes out, "show me how much you missed it"

You give him a proud lick, and Pedro hisses at the moment his preseminal fluid goes in between your hungry lips.

Your tongue darts to the head of his cock, running over it several times before bobbing your head down, taking most of him in your mouth. He keeps praising as you pump the base of his cock with your hand. Your head bobs, yet you peek up to hear Pascal's little sounds and facial expression, a motivation so intimate in the way his brows furrow and eyes roll, mouth agape at your movements while his lip suck on those pretty lips of his. It makes you keep going. With every bob you take as much of him in your mouth as you can, before slowly moving your way back up to the tip, increasing your suction the closer to his head you got. A throaty moan escapes the man above you when you now focus on the final lick, making him closer to coming, all while maintaining eye contact the entire way through.

"Don't do that" he rasps, yanking you by the hair again, as of punishment, but he knows you enjoy it, "you promised you'd be good"

You can't answer, so instead, you reach the head of his cock again, and now his eyes roll back, mumbling profanities that sound like heaven.

"Do you want them to hear us, brat? Qué necia eres" he manages to chastise while moaning.

You feel his dick stuck in your throat, and the way he's about to come; you think that after some time dating, you know him well enough.

You're about to leave with your mouth when he stops you.

"No" your eyes open in shock, "what? Did you think your punishment is over?" Pedro laughs, "don't look at me like that. Like you have never done it before"

He keeps you in place by the hair, the rings prickling against your scalp. You feel his muscles tense up, and before you can think anything else thick and hot shots of cum invade your mouth, making it sticky and warm.

"Don't pretend you don't like it" his voice goes dark, husky. "Swallow it all. Te han enseñado a no desperdiciar nada, ¿verdad? Show me your good manners, then"

When you pull out, your throat feels raspy.

"You gotta reward me" you cough out.

"I promised, didn't I?" his fingers trace your face delicately, with adoration.

"It's all about duty, General Acacius" you purr, and the dick springs out again. Hard.

"Princess..." he warns.

"For the glory of Rome" you joke and laugh, then cough, as your throat is still sore.

"Have you been reading my script?" as you avoid to answer, he just chuckles, "ay, nena"

"C'mere" he motions, and you sit on his lap again. Pedro lifts your dress, exploring the curve of your ass. There's anticipation as he hooks his finger around the waistband of your panties, pulling them down to access your core.

"Fuck" you squirm at his touch, grinding your freed cunt against his hard cock. He grabs you by the hip, adjusting you right on his lap.

"You taste so good" he kisses down your throat, ending at the chest were your tits peak.

"Want them?" you offer, pulling your dress down. He kisses them, gently nipping at your perked up nipples.

A wave of pleasure courses through you, and with whines and moans, you show how desperate you are, the hunger making the meal taste better. After all those weeks missing him, you just want him to fuck you senseless.

His lips are rosy and swollen against yours, mouths clashing; starved of the yearned contact. Truth is, no matter how much you know how to touch yourself, it'll never be the same as having his hard cock tear through your tight folds.

Pedro easily aligns his leaking cock with your uncovered pussy, all while mantaining the kiss. He pushes down on you, your dripping cunt taking all of his rock-hard cock, fingers holding onto the soft brown grey sprinkled locs.

"Pedro" you cry out his name, full of ecstasy as the stretch burns so sweetly. His low grunts only fuel your desire.

You trace with your eyes his body, now bare without the upper part of the costume: his pecs and abs, flexing with every pump. With now free hands, your fingers travel to softly caress his stomach, even if your tits are jiggling and the pace frenetic.

"I miss your tummy" you pout.

"I miss eating too" he whispers out, tiredly. He's reminded of his old age, forgetting about it as soon as you two kiss, because you bring out a stamina he thinks he doesn't have anymore; almost animalistic. His bones creak and adding the tiring filming day under the hot sun, he feels his body start to give up, the orgams closer and closer.

"No matter how you look" you clash your lips onto his, the adoration translating through the smile you press against, a trail of saliva that symbolizes how interwined you are, "you always look so fucking good"

He blushes, feeling like a stupid school boy with a crush. What did he even do to deserve you? Never thought a pretty young wild thing like you would even spare a glance on his way, but now you're taking all of his cock inside with such greed yet loom into his eyes with a love he's only dreamed of.

You're real, and his.

As soon as those words leave your mouth your orgasm spills over him, some of it dripping onto the skirt, making him curse. You can't stop, still meeting his thrusts halfway, despite your trembling body after reaching your high.

"Mierda" he groans against your mouth,

You feel yourself collapsing on top of him, the weight of the jet lag catching up.

"Getting tired, baby?" he coos. "Shit, and I thought I was old"

"You are" you reply back; you can never not have the last word. And he lets you, because, God, doesn't he love you? He pretends to look offended by it, but the way your eyes shine tell him you didn't mean it that way. "You and your white hairs" tracing over his moustache, a soft hand combing through his locks, "These wrinkles... don't you know how much I love them? how much I love you?"

"And you have no idea how much I love you" he squeezes his eyes shut, feeling it coming through. "God, wanna make you mine. Sólo mía" his pace slows. It's coming, and yes, you will take it all. "Wanna make you a baby, mami. Want you to take it all like the good girl you are"

When he comes, filling you with burning hot cum until you feel like you might burst, you're numb. But there's a feeling so content that pools warmth in your chest, that you can't say anything else, resting your head against his bare chest, both covered in sticky sweat.

"No sé cómo voy a explicar esto" he speaks through ragged breathes, and you can only smirk, "a squirted and cummed roman skirt".

"That isn't my problem" he scoffs, and you feel your head rise against the movement, earning a laugh out of you, "I'm not part of the movie"

"You'd sure think so, with the way you walked in here"

You roll your eyes, face hidden against his chest, "can you let that go?"

"You're right" he pulls you closer to him, hand enveloping you behind your bare back. The quiet doesn't bother you as you lie closer to his chest, his heartbeat the only thing you need to be at peace, "I think punishment time is over. Think you've learned your lesson"

"Then, how about we go out? I've heard Malta's beaches are pretty"

"Relájate, cariño. Seems you've gotten your energy back" he quips, then kisses your forehead. "We need to wait for everyone to get out"

"That embarrased you are of me?" you joke.

"No" he can already imagine his fellow cast members making fun of him, starting with Paul and Joseph when they see you and Connie who she totally notices the fun sticky stains on the costume, "but embarrased of the explanation I'll have to give"

[amica-aenigmata-naboo]

700 Years - Part 2

Astarion x Y/N - drabble - 2K WC

Thank you to all who requested a part 2! :)

Masterlist

Warnings: soft Astarion, depression, anxiety, misinterpretation of feelings, angst, reader reverting to old habits, drow twins (precious babies), slight mention of nudity, brief (and I mean BRIEF) steamy stuff, reassurance, fluff

Part 1

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Astarion was right, adjusting to life outside of the hells was proving to be somewhat difficult. Everything had changed, advanced. You felt like a relic, lost in time. You clung to Astarion like a scared child for weeks. You proved to be an elite combatant, a force to truly be reckoned with. You felt your powers come back to you over time. You just wished your mind would catch up. Know that everything is ok. Know that you are your own. 

You often spend your nights at the lakeside. Throwing rocks into it every so often to watch the ripples glide over the water. You didn’t expect your feelings to come back so easily, and in full force. In hell, you just turned them off when you weren’t alone. Raphael broke you into complete submission. 

“Care for some company?” you heard Astarion say.

You shrugged wordlessly. Astarion noticed your mood declining since you got to camp. You were lost. He did his best to give you space and be there for you, knowing your road was tough, just as his was. You sat in silence for a while before he spoke again.

“I know you’re in great pain, little love, you need not hide it from me.” he scooted closer to you. 

You leaned against him, feeling exhausted. Defeated. “I never thought I was going to leave the hells. Now that I have… I’m trying but… I don’t know if I belong up here. Or down there. I’m not sure I belong anywhere.” your voice was full of sadness. 

Astarion’s arms engulfed you. You clung to him, holding his arms against your chest. “I’m completely alone in the world and I’m… frightened.” you cried into him. 

Astarion took your hands and stood you up, walking you into the shallows of the lake. “Do you ever watch the ripples in the water?” he asked.

You nodded watching as the water splashed around your legs causing the whole lake to ripple.

“See how they unsettle the whole lake, delving it into chaos that will go on until it is brought peace again.” he said, now standing completely still, the lake stilling with him.

“I don’t know if I can bring myself peace.” you looked at the moon's reflection as the water stilled.

Astarion “You can… in time…. Takes a lot of work. But… I’ve got you. I’ll be here for you, whenever you want me.” he said, carding his fingers through your hair causing you to let out a small sigh. 

You leaned back, giving him a small smile. You hesitated before softly kissing his cheek. He looked at you with slightly widened eyes. 

“You don’t have to do that…” Astarion said. He feared showing any intimate interest in you due to everything you had going on, and yet - his heart felt smothered in honey when he was with you. 

Your hand ghosted over where you kissed him, “I know.” you felt bashful. You loved being around Astarion but, as of late, your body grows warm when he is near. Your brain feels overloaded with the urge to kiss him, touch him, love him. Everything about him made you feel better. He made you wonder if you could ever love again, truly love. Everyday you grew more and more convinced. He taught you how to be on your own, not constantly needing him. But now, you just wanted him near always. His presence lighting up your world. 

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The Blushing Mermaid was loud, far louder than you anticipated. It made you wince. Watching men stumble around boorishly and women fawn over each other. It made you smile despite all the noise. Seeing people look happy after so long in a place of unhappiness, it made your heart feel full. Knowing there is always light in the dark. 

Astarion had left you in the corner of the room, trying not to overwhelm you. He told you he would only be gone a moment so you sat down and waited for him. The more time ticked on the more anxious you got. Independent or not, you were anxious like this before the hells. You looked around the patrons, spotting the pale elf at the bar top. 

Your heart felt uneasy when you looked closer. A beautiful drow woman had draped herself across Astarion. He was indulging her in conversation, even going as far to laugh with her. You couldn’t understand why you were feeling the way you were. Astarion was not yours. He was beautiful and free, just like you. He can choose who he gives his attention to. You tried to reason with yourself. All your brain could seem to logically conclude is that he didn’t want you because you had not lay with him. He was healed and could use his body for himself, and here you were. 

You quietly made your way through the crowd, tears falling despite your best efforts to keep them at bay. 

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Astarion wasn’t one to panic easily but right now, his resting heart rate would register as a panic attack. When he returned to your little corner, you were gone. You were without weapons and your armor was in your room when he checked for you back at the Elfsong. He wandered the busy streets of Baldur’s Gate for well over an hour now. He made his way to the Lower City. This area was dangerous before the Absolute and Steel Watchers. It was a cornucopia for crime of all breeds to run amuck.

Astarion sat on a barrel at the front of an alleyway. He ran his hands through his hair and over his face. He was frustrated but beyond that he was scared. You weren’t by any means fragile, but Astarion is the one who brought you out for the night, he felt a sense of responsibility for you and your safety in an unknown place. And now you were missing his worst fear. Astarion continued to wander the city deep into the night. He wandered in and out of taverns and shops trying to spot you. He made his way into Sharess’ Caress, following the twists and turns of the building. He used to hunt here… not for blood but for souls to bring Cazador. Astarion pushed the thought out of his head, refocusing his eyes and scanning the room. He saw a door cracked open in a dark hallway, a bit of light coating the opposite wall. Might as well check, he thought. Inside he found you curled up on a bed. Two similar looking drows sitting near you. The male drow draped a blanket over you; while the female drow gazed upon your face and gently traced your features. Astarion walked in slowly, the drows looking at him.

“So you’re him?” the woman said, a look of disgust gracing her devine features. 

“Pardon?” Astarion said, confused.

“The one they cry for.” spoke the male drow. 

“How did they get here?” Astarion asked, worried about the answer.

“They walked in, looked lost. We offered them our services but instead they broke down in tears. We thought it best to keep them some place safe lest someone try to take advantage. Baldur’s Gate is not as safe as it once was.” the woman answered.

The conversation was interrupted by you stirring in bed, eyes immediately meeting Astarion’s when they opened. You sat up quietly, the drows quickly excused themselves sensing the tension in the room.

Astarion sat next to you on the bed, “Why did you leave?” he asked, sounding slightly angrier than he meant to.

“I didn’t want to impede your evening.” you said sincerely, and yet a tinge of jealousy was there.

“What are you talking about?” Astarion asked with a huff.

“The drow at the tavern… you two looked… comfortable. I figured I would leave you to it and find my way back to Elfsong. Got a little lost but the twins were very kind to me.” you played with the edges of your sleeves, mumbling your response trying not to sound as pathetic as you felt. 

Astarion’s face relaxed with realization, “Darling… I knew that drow from when I was under his power. She would give me peace for a few hours in her room, leaving me to my books and whatever else I wanted to do away from Cazador. She was a good friend to me.”

You felt foolish. He’s not yours. It’s all you could hear. You held your hands over your ears trying to make it all stop. Century after century you felt so numb, and maybe you preferred it that way. This all felt… too much. 

You pulled Astarion to you, kissing him. This felt nice, you wanted this but you had to turn your brain off for what you had to do next. You wanted him to want you, so you took the only route you knew. You started trailing kisses down his jaw, his neck, over his chest. While you pulled your shirt off Astarion looked at your face. Your eyes were vacant, like a shark. Your movements looked practiced and forced. You reached a hand to the laces of Astartions pants, his hand grabbing your wrist. You looked up at him with a blank face. 

“What’s wrong?” you asked, cocking an eyebrow.

“Can’t” was all he said, standing up and pacing the bedroom a bit. He laughed lightly before looking at you, “I could… but I won't.”

You hugged your shirt to your chest, eyes looking down feeling incredibly exposed. “Why not?”

Astarion kneeled in front of you so he could look into your eyes, his heart cracked seeing tears in them. “Because I know that look. I know you don’t truly want to have sex.”

You closed your eyes, tears flowing over silently. You held your shirt tighter, “I’m sorry.” you whispered.

Astarion’s face was covered with confusion. “Little love, what ever could you be sorry for?”

“That I can’t please you… like that… the way you want.” you shifted to quickly slide your shirt back on. 

Astartion breathed out a sigh, he gingerly took your hand, kissing the knuckles. “Darling we could never touch again and I’d still adore you.” he smoothed his thumbs over your knuckles before looking into your eyes. He saw doubt, caution even. 

“You are not in the hells, you never have to reduce yourself like this again. You do what you want with your body when you want to. Sex should be mutually pleasurable, and consensual the entire time. Not something you do because you think you should…. Whatever you’re comfortable with is where I will meet you.” Astarion kissed the tear on your cheek. 

You instinctively smiled at his kind gesture, knowing no expectations were held behind it. “I’m sorry I left… I want you, Astarion.” you said looking into his eyes, “I want you and it terrifies me. I just had to get away. I know you’re not mine but seeing you with… another. It planted this bitter seed inside me.” An understanding smile fell upon his face, his eyes big and doe like. 

“If it’s any consolation… I want you too.” it was your turn to look shocked, you placed a gentle kiss on his lips. Feeling out how the sensation made you feel, truly feel. 

“Was that ok?” he asked, caressing your wrist. 

You nodded, blushing, “I quite like that.” 

Astarion wrapped you in a feather light hug, waiting for you to return it which you instantly did. You two breathed each other in for a moment before Astarion leaned back.

“We should get back to the tavern.” he pecked your forehead. 

You hummed in agreement, following him through the city. Fingers laced together. 

“Can I stay with you?… I sleep better with you near.” you asked quietly when Astarion walked you to your room. 

Astarion smiled, “I’d have it no other way my sweet.”

Hello! I hope this is a good part 2! My first ever request, ahhhhh I feel so special. Thank you all for supporting my writing, it brings me great joy and comfort. Thanks for all the likes, comments, reblogs, and requests! Ilysm, till next time darlings <3 xoxoxo!!

[aces-to-apples]

Tell us your thoughts on Oghren 👀

He’s my best friend, he’s my pal, he’s my homeboy, he's my rotten soldier, he's my sweet cheese, he's my good time boy. He's my comrade-in-arms who thanks me for reminding him what honor is and vows to be the warrior I taught him to be (I am a rogue). He's my sad-sack uncle who drinks to cope with being socially pressured into becoming a Berserker, reliant upon blinding rage in battle, and then being ostracized and practically stripped of his caste for accidentally killing an opponent in a Proving when he has literally no way to put the brakes on the killing rage he was made to cultivate. He makes misogynistic comments because that's how he was taught to treat women but he still speaks fondly of Branka—who despised him, cheated on him, and then left him in Orzammar while stealing the rest of their House and killing them in the Deep Roads—and respects her lover Hespith, his own lover Felsi, Wynne, Morrigan, Sigrun, Velanna, and a female Warden. He makes homophobic comments but holds nothing against queer people and is open to non-traditional sex acts if his partner is interested in them. He's bisexual and has no fucking idea. He thanks the Warden for being his friend and treating him with respect even though he feels he doesn't deserve it and is used to being casually degraded and disrespected by his own people. He dropped his baby twice (I dropped both my nieces more than that lol) and fled his family to become a Grey Warden because he was terrified of genuinely hurting his child with his inexperience and ineptitude and is deeply insecure about it. He drunkenly asks the Warden for a pony because Branka used to collect figurines and he still loves her in some way. He considers insulting banter a form of bonding, both with friends and lovers, and also blushes and stutters and is pleased when the Warden is openly friendly and complimentary. He's doing his best with the shitty tools he's been given, and knows that he needs to improve, but he doesn't know how to do that himself. He genuinely loves drinking and booze of all kinds as a hobby and is so fucking pleased when Wynne takes his offer of taste-testing his brew seriously and professionally breaks down its composition and flavors. He respects Tranquil mages when even other mages don't because he may not understand what Tranquility means but he damn well knows that they're people. When boisterous and over-the-top when you first give him specialized gifts and then when you're actual friends he switches to being genuinely touched and grateful. He wants to drive a war-chariot pulled by mabari and tries multiple times to convince Dog that it's a good idea. He hates the Fade, and dreaming, and the first time he's in the Fade he politely asks you if it's okay if he throws up, and the second time he panickedly asks you why you keep bringing him there and is best calmed down when you promise that he's allowed to kill stuff as a grounding technique. He's ride-or-die, genuinely and without hesitation. He loves you. And I'm like the only person who genuinely loves him back.

[blackjackkent]

Quick camp chats before heading out on the road again. (I'm thinking about making straight for the creche actually, since Rakha definitely thinks it's the most important thing to do right now, and then circling back for final nautiloid map stuff on the way to the Underdark.)

Rakha questioned Gale much more thoroughly about Karsus and the fall of Netheril; even though it happened a long time ago, she's still hungry for any new knowledge, more pieces in her picture of the world. I think this is probably not the last time that he ends up just discoursing to her on some random subject or another; if there's one thing Gale can't resist, it's an attentive student, even if it's one fully capable of ripping his throat out in the wrong moment. He also explained, much to her disappointment, that there's no way she would be strong enough on her own to channel the Weave as they did together - that it requires intense study even for someone with a natural magical gift like her. She's quietly bummed about this; she was taken with the idea of showing it to Wyll.

Having talked to Dammon, we have the option to ask Karlach directly about the engine in camp. She's not willing to give the full story until the Paladins are dead, but does explain that it prevents her from touching anyone and how upset that makes her, that she can't have a hug. Rakha spends a lot of time thinking about this afterwards. She has had sex with Lae'zel and she has had Astarion's weight on her as he sucked the blood at her neck, but beyond this, her experience with physical contact of any sort is... limited. But Karlach's longing for it is obvious. It must be comforting, she decides. Like the blanket of the Weave around her. Like Wyll's hand on her arm was, last night.

Astarion is indignant about Gale's orb: "To think, Gale's had this devastating orb within himself the entire time, and only just mentioned it? Who'd keep a secret like that from his friends? You can't trust anyone these days." It takes Rakha a little while to work out that he is being ironic. His response to the question "What do you think we'll find at Moonrise Towers?" amuses me, because his phrasing feels deliberately calibrated for Rakha specifically: "Who knows? Drow? Mind flayers? Death? Hopefully not ours. But maybe answers, if we can convince the right people to talk." Death and answers are Rakha's two favorite things in the whole world.

Wyll is super cute and kinda shy. "Since the party, I've had a spring in my step, and I've got you to thank." Sadly none of the (positive) dialogue options quite fall in Rakha's blunt conversational wheelhouse, but we'll go with, "It was a lovely evening. I hope we can share even more." Because it's true - talking to him was the best part of the party for her by far. She doesn't fully understand her own feelings, but she is realizing she feels better near him than otherwise. He smiles. "I'm sure we will. And when the time comes... I've got something in mind." He raises a hand to forestall her as she opens her mouth to ask questions. "Now, now - no prodding. You don't want to spoil the surprise. But I'll say this... it'll be worth the wait." The odd sense of pleasant anticipation with which Rakha receives this information is a rather new concept for her. She isn't sure what he means... but she is curious to find out.

He also tells her a little bit about growing up as a Duke's son in Baldur's Gate. Most of his descriptions of court and nobility are somewhat lost on her-- more interesting is his description of the transition into becoming Blade of Frontiers. She asks if it was much of a change. "Yes and no," he answers. "Father taught me the four pillars of power - courage, insight, strategy, justice. He reckoned I'd follow in his footsteps, first as a Fist Marshal, then as a Duke. Vanquish evil, maintain order, save the world. But a duke makes bedfellows with more monsters than he slays. Father called it 'diplomacy'. I called it 'hypocrisy.' In the frontiers, there is no posturing, no diplomacy. I slay monsters; I don't consort with them, even if I might look like one." As usual, Rakha tucks away these foundational tenets of his philosophy to consider for herself. Courage, insight, strategy, justice. None of them mean as much to her as violence, hunger, survival, death. And yet they are, perhaps, something to aspire to, if she should ever learn to control the beast... She wonders about that last statement, though. Wyll claims not to consort with monsters - but he travels with Astarion. He travels with her. He travels with Gale and that bomb in his chest. There are many in their group who could be called monsters. What does he see when he looks at them? Does he see his presence here as just another sort of hypocrisy, deep down?

[mayisgoingnuts]

Honestly yeah lmao

And for Angel and Husk—

So I inspired Angel by Jessica Rabbit from Who Framed Roger Rabbit in this AU—while I had no particular inspiration for Husk besides Eddie Valiant from Who Framed Roger Rabbit and Ray Charles (dude who sang Hit The Road Jack).

Angel in this au is still an inappropriate film star, pole dancer, etc etc—and he still has that sassy charm to him. He mainly acts this way as a front with other people like in the original show, but he can also be REALLYYYY threatening when pissed, and that's usually when his past as a guy from a mob family comes out. He's also more of a shitty person here? Just because he's been in Hell for a long time, so he's bound to lose any sort of kindness he might have had before. He's very rude to Charlie at first and is actually kind of passive aggresive with her sometimes, but grows from this over the show and grows to like her. And when he's not putting on a front, he's very vulnerable and miserable—just to show how much Valentino's treatment of him has effected him. He can also sing pretty well unsurprisingly—and can actually play the saxophone.. for some reason.

Due to his past as a mob family member though, he still has some pretty fucked up tendencies, and due to being sus of Sir Pentious when he first arrives, he basically pulls him to the side and attempts to torture him incase he might have some info (with Vaggie joining him until Charlie puts an end to it). Angel really sees nothing wrong with the way his family taught him during the earlier seasons and always acts like people are over-reacting when they point out this behavior of his. But once again, he slowly learns that it isn't okay over the show, and grows from it.

He's also still an alcoholic and drug addict here, because he wants some feel of escape from all the stuff Valentino makes him do, but he's so convinced that Val loves him due to Valentinos manipulation. And it's even worse because Valentino always acts like nothings wrong whenever other people are around, and even if people knew what he was like, they could basically do nothing about Val due to him being a fuckin Overlord and this being Hell. (Angel's voice is also the same in this rewritten version btw, but with a minor distortion/other voice playing in the back anytime he talks)

As for Husk—he isn't that much different here since I don't see much wrong with him in the show? But he's also very depressed due to losing his position as an Overlord, and holds some slight arrogance due to being once in that position. But he of course grows from this, and realizes maybe all of his confidence was just some stupid front he was putting on for himself so he didn't have to confront his insecurities (which were basically about him dying alone and pathetic in the real world, and he also had a kid in the real world, so he hates himself for leaving her up there). Also he's a little more frightened of Alastor here, and usually just kinda tries his best to shut the fuck up when he's around due to being afraid of what he might do with his soul.

As for Loser Baby in this AU—I think the problem with it was that the poppy beat and light-hearted lyrics made people take it kinda wrong? As an SA victim, I did get the message that it was supposed to be like "Hey, you aren't alone—I'm in the same situation too so don't worry, we're in this together. But I can see how some people would misinterpret it here. So instead of a song number, it's more of an emotional scene where Husk first explains he was an Overlord once, and then tells Angel that he belongs to Alastor now, and tells him that there's really nothing either of them can do about their situations due to their respective tormentors being overlords—but that Angel's pain is valid, and that he's not in this alone. And THEN that's when the sharks come in and the fight scene happens.

Angel's outfit is SO good tho ksjdksjf

But DAMN POOR SIR PENTIOUS D:

[aliensmoothie]

ill be real i know jack shit about skyrim and i forgot. your skyrim ocs name . but canyou tell me about them

HERE THEY ARE the one on the left is Yol-Miin/Jack shes my dragonborn oc and the one of the right is Ruarc hes the ghost in Jack's head and also my eso character . i had some old discord messages that i spruced up ( some stuff has changed a little since i wrote them originally LMAO ) for you below the cut :) this is mainly like their backstory stuff as it's relevant to skyrim but there is a little more ( like the eso stuff ) . its just complicated to explain and ALSO im afraid of sounding cringe . but its ok because the skyrim stuff is like the important part LOL

so she was raised for basically her entire life in windhelm . whenever she ended up there ( as like a very young baby probably ) an old dunmer man ( Malran ) took her in ( also was the one who found him maybe ? ) and to the best of his ability taught her how to survive in windhelm . generally through the route of stealth which he was really talented in but he was very cagey about his past so jack doesnt know like . why . he was also married to a redguard woman ( Shinir ) , who was only in town every now and then , cause she worked as a caravan guard , but taught Yol-miin varying skills she learned out on the road . generally though , Yol-miin was Really talented at being able to read about something and then just . teach himself how to do it . So when he got older he ended up using that skill doing any odd job that needed doing in town ( from chopping firewood to fixing swords to whatever really . the jobs usually came from the dunmer in town and occasionally the dock workers but i know she also helped around the hall of the dead alot ) . Malran ended up getting arrested ( undecided on the reason . there might not have been one ) when she was like 18 , and he disappeared from the prison without a trace . There was like No clues or anything even for Jack , so he was assumed dead . After that he ends up staying at the argonian assemblage at the docks for about a year before realizing that there's really no purpose in staying in windhelm anymore when she feels like she doesnt really belong . So ( mainly because of Shinir's visits i think ) she decides she's going out to start adventuring . Then she goes to helgen , and the whole Skyrim Thing happens .

Ruarc is a little more um . complicated . to explain . he was , when he was alive , a necromantic experiment by a group of daedra ( maybe sheogorath or namira ? i havent decided at all . sheo would be fun though ) cultists living out in valenwood a long long time ago ( like eras before skyrim maybe . it was a while ago ) . the cultists' intent was to summon a demon into a piece of primordial ooze pulled off a dead changeling as a powerful vessel for . whatever demon they were summoning . but instead the demon and whatever like Living Potential was in the ooze fused together and made Ruarc . The cultists weren't awful to Ruarc , but they were trying Very hard to figure out how to get basically the same experiment to go correctly while using him as a catalyst . Eventually , they tried it again and it backfired WAY HARDER and set the whole surrounding area on fire , killing Ruarc and all the cultists . Then , a long time later , he ends up as a ghost living in baby Jack's head . he doesn't remember his life before at all , so he just kind of convinces himself that he's an imaginary friend , and hangs out in Yol-miin's head . He definitely also influences Jack's array of skills with the scraps of Past Life Knowledge that he has .

[sunny6677]

Part 3 of my Hazbin Hotel rewrite!!

TWS FOR ABUSE, MANIPULATION, SA MENTIONS TOWARD THE END, TORTURE, MAFIA MENTIONS.

So I inspired Angel by Jessica Rabbit from Who Framed Roger Rabbit in this AU—while I had no particular inspiration for Husk besides Eddie Valiant from Who Framed Roger Rabbit and Ray Charles (dude who sang Hit The Road Jack).

Angel in this au is still an inappropriate film star, pole dancer, etc etc—and he still has that sassy charm to him. He mainly acts this way as a front with other people like in the original show, but he can also be REALLYYYY threatening when pissed, and that's usually when his past as a guy from a mob family comes out. He's also more of a shitty person here? Just because he's been in Hell for a long time, so he's bound to lose any sort of kindness he might have had before. He's very rude to Charlie at first and is actually kind of passive aggresive with her sometimes, but grows from this over the show and grows to like her. And when he's not putting on a front, he's very vulnerable and miserable—just to show how much Valentino's treatment of him has effected him. He can also sing pretty well unsurprisingly—and can actually play the saxophone.. for some reason.

Due to his past as a mob family member though, he still has some pretty fucked up tendencies, and due to being sus of Sir Pentious when he first arrives, he basically pulls him to the side and attempts to torture him incase he might have some info (with Vaggie joining him until Charlie puts an end to it). Angel really sees nothing wrong with the way his family taught him during the earlier seasons and always acts like people are over-reacting when they point out this behavior of his. But once again, he slowly learns that it isn't okay over the show, and grows from it.

He's also still an alcoholic and drug addict here, because he wants some feel of escape from all the stuff Valentino makes him do, but he's so convinced that Val loves him due to Valentinos manipulation. And it's even worse because Valentino always acts like nothings wrong whenever other people are around, and even if people knew what he was like, they could basically do nothing about Val due to him being a fuckin Overlord and this being Hell. (Angel's voice is also the same in this rewritten version btw, but with a minor distortion/other voice playing in the back anytime he talks)

As for Husk—he isn't that much different here since I don't see much wrong with him in the show? But he's also very depressed due to losing his position as an Overlord, and holds some slight arrogance due to being once in that position. But he of course grows from this, and realizes maybe all of his confidence was just some stupid front he was putting on for himself so he didn't have to confront his insecurities (which were basically about him dying alone and pathetic in the real world, and he also had a kid in the real world, so he hates himself for leaving her up there). Also he's a little more frightened of Alastor here, and usually just kinda tries his best to shut the fuck up when he's around due to being afraid of what he might do with his soul.

As for Loser Baby in this AU—I think the problem with it was that the poppy beat and light-hearted lyrics made people take it kinda wrong? As an SA victim, I did get the message that it was supposed to be like "Hey, you aren't alone—I'm in the same situation too so don't worry, we're in this together. But I can see how some people would misinterpret it here. So instead of a song number, it's more of an emotional scene where Husk first explains he was an Overlord once, and then tells Angel that he belongs to Alastor now, and tells him that there's really nothing either of them can do about their situations due to their respective tormentors being overlords—but that Angel's pain is valid, and that he's not in this alone. And THEN that's when the sharks come in and the fight scene happens.

[larrydempsey]

“But I’m Feeling Much Better Now, Conclusion”

After I graduated from high school, Tom taught me how to drive.  Unlike every other teenager in the universe, I had no interest in getting behind the wheel of a car when I was going to school.  I wanted my uncle (my mom’s brother) to teach me how, since he was a part-time driving instructor, but Tom said there was no way anyone else was going to teach me.      Using Tom’s two-door, silver stick-shift Honda hatchback (which later became my car), I learned to drive in industrial parks, empty parking lots, and on dirt roads outside of town.  It wasn’t fun—either the driving or having to spend more time with Tom—but at least I made it through him trying to teach me something without crying, like I did when I was younger.  That’s progress.     The main reason Tom wanted to teach me how to drive was so I would be able to drive to work.  I strongly suspected he wanted me to get a job and move away from home as soon as possible so he wouldn’t have to deal with me anymore.

I went out looking for jobs where I thought I could make use of my creative skills, places like newspapers, print shops, photo studios, and videographers.  I took examples of my artwork with me to show them what I could do.  But it was pointless.  While they considered me “good,” I wasn’t good enough.  It didn’t help that I didn’t have any real experience or a college degree.  It was naive of me to think I could get a decent job right out of high school.  They took my résumé (such as it was), but I never heard back from any of them.

Since I couldn’t find a “real” job, Tom put me to work on two projects he had going on around town (not that I had a choice).  The first was helping out on the new house that he was having built for his parents, who were moving up from Oregon so they could live near us.  Some of my duties included tidying up the worksite, like sweeping inside the house and picking up stray nails and boards outside.  I also spent days spreading multiple coats of tar sealant on the exterior of the concrete foundation with a paint roller at the end of a long stick.     One afternoon, on the drive home from picking me up, Tom asked me how I liked working on the house.  I don’t remember what I said specifically, only that it wasn’t too enthusiastic.  Tom got angry and confused, wondering why I wasn't thrilled with my new job.  He said, “You don’t seem too excited.”  I thought to myself, “Excited?  I spend all day working with stuff that smells worse than shit.  If I got any more excited, I’d fall into a coma.”     After that, Tom got me a job working at the first Super 1 grocery store when it was being built, since he was the architect for it and had an “in” with the owner.  At the time I was hired, the store was still an enormous concrete shell, big and (mostly) empty, with random metal shelving, refrigeration equipment, and mountains of cardboard, clear plastic, and styrofoam packing material scattered everywhere.  It felt like a huge, dark airplane hanger.  I was assigned to crawl around on my hands and knees on a concrete floor all day wearing hard plastic knee pads and dragging a shop vac behind me, cleaning and vacuuming inside the bases of hundreds of shelving units.  Just like working on Tom’s parent's house, this job was hot as hell as well, with sweat dripping off my face as I breathed in dust from drywall and fought back nausea.  I’m convinced Tom intentionally found me the crappiest jobs he could find just to torture me.

I remember the last place Tom, my mom, my sister, and I went together as a family (well, the four of us together, that is).  We went to the Silverwood theme park, which had just opened for the first time a couple months earlier.  I had no interest in seeing it, but Tom wanted to, as it was the big new thing in town at the time.      Right before we left home, Tom and I got into a huge argument (over something about which I have no idea, but knowing me, I probably didn’t want to go—or go anywhere with him).  I think Mom and my sister were already in the car in the garage, waiting for the two of us to come out.  I wanted to tell Mom about the argument when I got in the car, but I couldn’t since she was one of “the parents.”  But I felt things shift that day.  It was the first time I saw Mom separately from Tom.  They were no longer one unit; this formidable force of the two of them ganged up on me.  Instead, I saw Tom as my adversary and Mom as someone with whom I would soon be able to confide.     There was hardly anything at Silverwood in its early days.  There was the train (which people could use to ride around the perimeter of the park) and a few rides and shops.  I remember riding on the train, sitting in my seat (comfortably far from Tom, naturally), not enjoying it or paying attention to where I was or what was going on.  Mom asked what was wrong, but I didn’t want to say anything, at least not at that point, so I kept it to myself.  All I could do was sit there and think about that big argument I had with Tom and how I could possibly endure living with him for much longer.  Tom and I were seriously becoming enemies.

Tom went out with some friends late one night.  He came home around 2:30 in the morning.  Mom and Tom immediately got into an argument over why he was coming home so late, where he was, and who he was with.  During the argument, he burst into my bedroom and demanded to know what was going on and why Mom was so worked up.  Piss off, buddy.  You’re not getting any help from me.  Mom later found out that Tom had been out dancing with a woman he’d recently met, a woman with whom he’d been spending a lot of time and getting a little too closely acquainted (FORESHADOWING!).     Things quickly started to deteriorate after that.  The tension was constant, and arguments erupted almost every day.  The end was near and inevitable.

After a brief and explosive argument between Tom and Mom one night, Mom threw a large calculator at him (the only thing within arm’s reach), and Tom made a mad dash for the back door.  The sight of him jumping in the car and screeching out of the garage, like the coward he was, is still one of my favorite memories (too bad about the calculator, though; it never quite worked the same after that).  Tom returned not long after, but not for very long.      Near the end of summer and two days before my mom’s birthday, Tom left us for good.  My mom, my sister, and I were watching TV in the living room.  Tom was sitting at the table in the dining room, working on who knows what.  Without warning, he quietly got up from the table, walked out to the garage, got in the car, and left.  We heard him leave, but we didn’t think anything of it at the time—at least not until he didn't come home that night.     When Tom eventually came back a few days later to pick up some clothes and a few other things to bring to the hotel at which he’d been staying, he told my mom that when he heard us laughing at the TV, he felt like he “didn't belong.”  Apparently, the sound of the three of us enjoying whatever show we were watching was the final straw that convinced him we were no longer a family (if we ever really were one).  Tom filed for divorce shortly after.

When the news was going around that my parents were going to get a divorce, my mom’s longtime best friend (who she’d known since first grade) called Tom and invited him to go fishing with her and her husband.  Read that again if you need to.  I’ll wait.

Not long after my parents separated, Mom went to visit Tom while he was working on his parents’ new house.  She asked him if there was any way he would consider coming back and working things out.  Tom turned her down.  To this, Mom replied, “It’s a good thing you said that, or the kids would have left.”  It’s not that she actually wanted him back, but she thought she’d ask, just to see what his response would be.  Tom added that his reason for not wanting to get back together was that he and Mom “didn’t click.”

With Tom gone, we needed money coming in.  Any potential child support was a long way off (but only for my sister since I’d turned 18 earlier that spring).  So after abandoning my delusions of finding a job doing something I liked or was good at, I took whatever I could get.     Mom and I found temporary employment at a computer keyboard plant doing mind-numbing assembly line work.  That lasted for about a month.  After that was over, Mom landed the first in a long line of jobs in retail, while my career path quickly led me to the first of an endless string of janitor jobs.  Everything I was capable of doing, all my “gifts” and “talents,” were useless.  The only jobs I could get were cleaning toilets.

Whenever Tom came over to the house to discuss the divorce, at some point he’d get pissed off and storm out.  Every time.  He’d get up, stomp across the living room, and then dart out the front door, slamming the door behind him.  Every meeting ended the same way, except for one night.  On that night, I jumped up and made it to the door before he did.  As he reached for the doorknob, I grabbed him by the front of his coat with both hands and threw him down into the nearest chair.  He was scared out of his mind, which I could tell from the look of horror on his face, his eyes bulging and his bottom lip trembling.  That was the first time I ever stood up to him.  He never tried storming out again.      Tom later accused my mom of turning my sister and me against him.  Sorry, dude.  She didn’t have to turn us against you.  We never liked you in the first place.  We were glad you left.  Sure, we would be worse off financially, but we would be far better off without you around.      During the divorce trial, Tom was on the stand, and Mom’s lawyer asked Tom when my birthday was.  It seems like a simple enough question, right?  A father should know his children’s birthdays.  After hemming and hawing, obviously having trouble remembering when I was born, he finally said a date—but it was the wrong one.     We had to move out of our second house after the divorce.  We were forced to sell it so Tom could get his half of the money.  We sold all but a quarter acre of our land, took our half of the money, and built a new house on it (that was our third house, for those keeping track).

Not long into Tom’s second marriage (married to the woman with whom he was out dancing before he divorced my mom), my sister and I received a long letter from his new wife, going on and on about how great a man he was, how downhearted he felt about his children ignoring him, and demanding that we treat him better.  Sorry.  No sympathy here.  He treated us like crap, and he’s the victim?  I thought, “Give it time.  You’ll find out what he's really like.”

Tom bought me a computer drawing program one Christmas, probably trying to impress his new wife by pretending he was a good father.  I told him I already had that program.  Three months later, he mailed me the receipt so I could take it back.  The receipt was my birthday present.

Tom came into our new house once, and only once.  I was home alone one afternoon.  Mom must have been at work.  I don’t know where my sister was—either at work or school, probably.  The doorbell rang, and I answered the door.  I couldn’t believe who I saw standing on the other side of it.  I should have just slammed the door, but, being the polite guy (and wimp) that I am, I let him in.  He wanted me to sign a birthday card for his father.  Trying to choke back fake tears, Tom said he thought his father wasn’t going to be around much longer (which was a complete exaggeration; his father was fine; he lived for many more years).  He asked me if I could also draw a little something, too, so I did a ballpoint pen drawing of Superman on the left-hand side of the inside of the card.  I’m assuming his birthday card request was just an excuse to see the inside of our new house.

Tom wanted to pay to send both my sister and me to college, even after the divorce.  Sounds good, right?  Who would turn that down?  Me, for one.  Accepting his offer meant him buying his way into my life again.  First, it would mean he thought he could see me or talk to me whenever he wanted to.  Second, he would hold it over me.  If and when I ever made something of myself, he’d want to take credit for my success since he was the one who paid for my education.  Sorry.  Not interested.  We finally got rid of that asshole.  I didn’t want him back in our lives.  My sister accepted his offer, though, and went to college on his dime a few years later, after she moved to Seattle.     Mom encouraged both of us to take Tom for as much as we could.  While I can see that point of view and I can see why my sister did it, I couldn't do the same.  In my opinion, the bad outweighed the good.  And yes, because my sister accepted Tom’s money, she had to talk to him on the phone and visit with him in person whenever he wanted.

Tom’s second marriage lasted about ten years.  But shockingly, its demise wasn’t due to anything Tom had done (well, not entirely).  It turns out his new wife and her son had been stealing money from his parents.  Pity.  I thought she was the one.

About a year or so after Tom’s second divorce, Mom and I went out to eat at Pizza Hut one night.  Tom came in with a young girl (no older than her 20s or 30s, compared to him in his late 50s).  When I went up to the salad bar, Tom got up and came over to talk to me.  I told him I had recently done some published comic book work (me, having recently had some success in the artistic field and something to brag about).  He said he wanted a copy.  I agreed to give him one, just so I could get away from him.  Later, as Mom and I were leaving, I stopped at the table where Tom was sitting on the same side of the booth as the girl.  I told him, “You’re getting them younger all the time, aren’t you?”  He smiled and laughed, assuming I had said something funny, not realizing what I’d actually said.  But once he finally achieved comprehension, his eyebrows dropped, and his smile quickly faded.  Next, I asked, “How do you live with yourself?”  I walked away from the table and headed toward the door.  When I reached the door, I turned around, and there he was, standing right behind me, looking super pissed.  I got right in his face and said, “Sit the fuck down.”  I turned around and walked out the door without looking back.  That was the second time I ever stood up to him and the first time I ever cussed at him.  It felt great.     The next time I saw Tom was at my grandmother’s funeral (my mom’s mother’s).  He was all chummy-chummy with me, either forgetting what had happened at Pizza Hut or pretending it didn’t happen.  My other grandmother (Tom’s mother) was also there.  She came up to me, sobbing, wondering why I never visited them, even though we live in the same town.  The reason I never visited is because I hated her and her husband almost as much as I hated Tom.  Besides not liking them personally, why would I want anything to do with the two people who spawned the devil, who was my father?  I told her I’d visit, completely lying through my teeth.     The last time I saw Tom was across a grocery store parking lot late one evening.  He was with his fifth wife (you read that right: fifth).  He kept waving at me, trying to get me to come over to talk to him.  I kept ignoring him, pretending I didn’t see or hear him.  He eventually gave up and entered the store.

I still remember where I was when I heard that Tom had died.  I was picking Mom up from work, and she told me the news after she got in the car (she heard the news from her brother, who called her earlier in the day).  I couldn’t have been happier.  Giddy is too small a word.  My first thought was that I wanted to know where he was going to be buried so I could go pee on his grave.  We found out later that it’s in another state, so I haven’t gone there yet.  But I look forward to it.

Tom, along with my bullies and my teachers, seriously screwed me up.  If it weren't for them, I wouldn’t be enjoying the anxiety, depression, obesity, OCD, PTSD, low self-esteem, and poor self-image issues from which I suffer every day.  Who knows how much happier I could have been and how much further I could have gotten in life if they had simply left me alone?  Regardless, I’m working really hard to like myself now, to enjoy my own company, and to not put myself down so much in an effort to undo some of the damage they did to me.  It's not easy.  And it’s been a long,8slow process.  But I’m trying.  Wish me luck.

Copyright © 2023 Larry Dempsey.  All rights reserved.

Commentary for "But I’m Feeling Much Better Now"

[reids-rendering-reality]

Criminal Collar

Summary: Spencer meets Y/N’s ex-boyfriend and renowned criminal consultant for the White Collar Crime Unit of the FBI, Neal Caffrey.

(A/N: this is a cross-over between White Collar and Criminal Minds. There are no spoilers for WC and you don’t need to have watched it to read this. Also, I know I made Neal a little meaner than he is, but it fits better with my storyline oops)

Type: angst, with the end being fluffy and a little smutty

Warnings: mentions of criminal activity, insecurity, jealousy, making out

Word Count: 2.4K

Reader’s POV

I joined the BAU about one and a half years ago, after leaving the White Collar Crime Unit of the FBI. Honestly, I was kind of glad when Strauss requested my transfer and my new team suits me way better. Especially because I’ve started dating Dr. Spencer Reid 6 months ago and he makes me really happy. However, I guess luck wasn’t on my side this week.

Like it always is when things like this happen, it was a regular day at the FBI. I was working on some paperwork at my desk before JJ would brief us on the new case in half an hour. That was when Hotch appeared from his office.

“Y/L/N, can you come into my office?” he said looking down at me into the bullpen. When I just looked up at him confused for a moment, he continued “now, please.”

I got up slowly, exchanging a few worried glances with Spencer before walking into his office.

“Agent Burke from the White Collar unit has requested you to go downstairs and consult on a case,” Hotch said in his typical ultra-serious voice.

“Do you know what case this is? I am working on this team now,” I said, a little worried that I would have to return to the WCU.

“I don’t know. But don’t worry, you won’t be transferred again. Head down now, we’re leaving in an hour. Spencer will brief the case to you on the jet,” he said while mustering my anxious stance.

When I returned to the bullpen, I quickly organised my desk so that I could leave for the jet right away.

“What did he want?” Spencer asked, suddenly standing next to me which made me jump a little.

“WCU needs a consult on a case, but I’ll be back in time for take-off,” I said, avoiding his eyes and getting ready to leave for the elevator.

I walked past Spencer and didn’t turn around once, but I could feel his eyes on the back of my head. Not only his though, I felt the entire team stare me down as I disappeared into the hall.

 The rest of the week was relatively eventless – for the BAU at least. I gave Burke his consult on the case and headed to Texas with the others. The case was not too difficult or straining.

When we returned to the office, it wasn’t even late. It was midday, and everyone was chattering about happily in the elevator. But when the elevator doors opened, the mood shifted completely. Right there, in the bullpen, sitting at my desk, I saw a figure in a black fedora. My breath hitched and I could feel Spencer look over at me. When we exited the elevator, the figure turned around and revealed his face.

“Is that-“ Morgan began baffled.

“Neal Caffrey,” I finished a clear sour undertone to my voice. Both Morgan and Spencer looked at me weirdly. It was unusual for me to talk in this way, I don’t think they have ever heard it before.

I pushed open the glass doors and hurried away from the others towards the man sitting at my desk.

“Y/N/N! So nice to see you again,” he grinned up at me as I approached him. I could still feel the four pairs of eyes burning into the back of my head.

“Neal, what are you doing here?” I said, my voice even more furious than before. At the same time, my mind was racing about how I would explain all of this to Spencer and the others later.

“Can’t we just talk like we used to? I saw you in Burke’s office on Monday,” he said, still grinning and making no move to get out of the chair.

“Fine, come with me,” I walked away towards the conference room, hearing him following behind me in his typically slow and casual stride.

 Spencer’s POV

I felt my jaw being open during their entire interaction and quickly shut it as they entered the conference room.

“What was that all about?” Prentiss asked curiously.

“That’s Neal Caffrey, the criminal consultant down at the-“ I began to explain almost automatically.

“I know who he is, but how does he know Y/N and why is he here?” Prentiss interrupted me.

“Well, Y/N worked down at the WCU before she was transferred here. I heard a rumour from a friend that works there. Apparently, Y/N was dating him during her time there and when a case ended badly for them, they suspected that she couldn’t work there with him anymore. He did some scandalous things that not only endangered the reputation of their entire team, but also the entire FBI. Some say, Y/N was in on it and didn’t tell anyone. But after a couple of examinations, she was transferred here instead because Strauss thinks she’s invaluable to the FBI,” JJ explained to all of us.

“She dated a criminal? Damn, I never would’ve expected that from her,” Derek said and looked up to the conference room and then said a little more quietly, “quite a change in her type since she came here.”

I looked at him incredulously, before looking at my hands and fidgeting with them.

“Did you know about this, Reid?” Prentiss asked me.

“Me?” I looked up again, “What- uh- no, of course not!”

“How did you not know that your girlfriend’s ex-boyfriend is one of the most famous white-collar criminals?” Morgan asked.

“We haven’t really talked about that stuff,” I said quietly, “it’s not like I would’ve had anything to share.”

“So you’re telling me, you’ve never had the uncomfortable talk about exes with her? For a genius, you do not have a lot of experience with relationships,” Prentiss said, her tone almost joking.

“What do you think they’re talking about in there?” I tried to deflect the topic of conversation away from me while looking up at the conference room, where Neal was just closing the blinds.

 Reader’s POV

“So, why did you come here?” I asked, closing the door to the conference room behind me as Neal looked around.

“Surely you miss the WCU. This place is dark and gloomy. The cases are grim and the undercover operations aren’t nearly as glamorous. Plus, I’m not there,” he grinned at me. I couldn’t help but chuckle at his attempt at flirting with me.

“Cut the crap, I left the WCU for a reason. Don’t make me ask again: why are you here?” I could feel my annoyance rise.

“I’m here because of you. I just want to talk to you. We haven’t seen each other in so long, I wanted to catch up a little,” he paused, walking around the table, “you can’t tell me you haven’t missed me.”

“I haven’t,” I said.

Before I could continue to speak, Neal continued, “right. Like I would believe that,” he looked out the window into the bullpen where the team was standing, trying not to stare too obviously, “but then again, here’s that lanky boy. He keeps looking at you in a certain way. Is he your boyfriend?”

Neal glanced at me for a moment, before turning his attention back to the window and closing the blinds with a bright grin.

“That’s none of your business. My life is none of your business anymore. You put me in so much danger without even caring about the consequences. That’s why I transferred here. So please, just leave me alone.”

He now walked over me in casual strides. I mustered him, the memories resurfacing at the sight of him in that typical classy Italian suit, with a pin on his tie. He was always dressed so properly. But the way he behaved was just the opposite. Yet, a tiny little part of me looked at him and saw that attractive man that I had fallen in love with over the years working with him.

He stopped when he was standing right in front of me, brushing a strand of hair out of my face.

“Y/N, don’t you think it’s time to let that go? That was such a long time ago.. I’ve changed, you know?” he looked into my eyes with a sincerity that I would’ve believed one and a half years ago. But working at the BAU taught me a lot about reading people, seeing typical communication and manipulation strategies. I wasn’t falling for his lies anymore.

“Is that all you came here for, Neal? Trying to get me back? Because I won’t ever go back to you. I’ve moved on and I realised that dating you, to begin with, was a huge mistake,” I said with the most confident tone I could muster.

That last part wasn’t entirely true. While he did hurt me, my reputation, and everything I stood for repeatedly, he still was a part of me. We had been in a relationship for years. There were so many good times that I had to let go for my well-being.

To be convincing with my words, I walked past him, towards the door, “it’s time for you to leave.”

After a little bickering back and forth, he finally walked out of the BAU. I could see that the team had left, only Spencer was still sitting at his desk, working on some paperwork. He was waiting for me to go home together, just like always. The sight warmed my heart; Spencer was so good to me.

But of course, Neal wouldn’t just leave without a bang. Walking past Spencer’s desk, he stopped for a second and said, “take care of her. She obviously needs you to get over me.”

Spencer looked up at him with wide eyes as he spoke and didn’t even respond before Neal had left into the elevator. Spencer turned his head and looked up at me.

 We were on the way home to my apartment, just like always when we returned from a case. We sat there in silence, Spencer’s eyes focused intensely on the road as he was driving.

“Spencer?” I asked softly looking over at him. He just gave a tight-lipped hum in response.

“Can we talk? I assume you have questions, but you haven’t said anything yet.”

He cleared his voice before responding calmly and quietly, “I just didn’t want to discuss it at the office. There isn’t anything to talk about. I know about one of your exes now.”

“But what he said to you. And everything. It must-“ I huffed, “you look like it bothers you. Don’t you want to share what you’re feeling? Maybe I can help you process.”

Spencer gave me a quick glance, seemingly ignoring my concerned face with a cold expression.

“What do you want to hear? Do you want to hear how I keep thinking I’m not good enough for you, regardless of what happened today? How that just made me feel worse? Do you want to hear about how embarrassed I was when JJ told us that he is your ex-boyfriend and I, your current boyfriend, didn’t even know about it? Do you want to know about all the other things I’m imagining you hiding from me? How my mind is racing with all my insecurities that you already know about because I tell you things that bother me while you don’t?” he said, his voice getting louder and louder with each question while his grip on the steering wheel tightened.

“Do you want to know about how Morgan even commented on the fact that he is so different from me and your type has changed a lot? How do you think all that makes me feel? When it isn’t coming from you?” he continued angrily.

I didn’t know what to say. To be honest, I was a little speechless. I thought it would bother him, but not like this.

“See? That’s why I didn’t want to open up. It’s not like you have anything to say about it anyway,” he said, his tone ice-cold.

The rest of the car ride was silent. My mind was racing with things I could respond to him, but nothing came to mind. When we arrived at my apartment, I was surprised that he parked the car. I had assumed that after that speech he would just drop me off and go home alone.

Before I could move, Spencer had turned towards me and taken my hand into his gently.

“Can I come inside?” he asked softly, his demeanour completely different from before.

“Yes, of course, Spence,” I replied gently.

Upstairs in my apartment, we sat on the couch together.

“I’m sorry for snapping at you earlier. I’m just really bothered by it. He is everything I’m not. He is attractive, charming, has a good style, and even just muscles. He is-“ Spencer began, but I cut him off.

“and he is a criminal. Listen, Spence, I completely understand how you feel. But, behind his attractive mask, there is so much more, that just isn’t attractive. To me, his personality wasn’t attractive. He didn’t treat me well and only cared about himself. He only cared about the lifestyle he wanted to lead and he could never let go of his criminal past.”

Spencer just looked up at me from his hunched position with his big brown puppy eyes.

“Plus, just because he is attractive doesn’t mean you’re not. God, I think you’re so hot. Your face, your hair, those sweater vests. You’re completely different from him, but that doesn’t mean you aren’t attractive. And when you use that big brain of yours to solve cases and explain things, that no one else knows and that most people don’t even understand. I think you’re incredibly attractive. And your intelligence is very charming, and-,” I began to ramble about all the things I loved about him.

But before I could continue speaking he had grabbed my face and kissed me on the lips passionately. His lips moved against mine, as his hands entangled in my hair. I almost moaned into his mouth as his tongue found mine and my hands reached for the back of his neck.

When we pulled apart, he was breathless and said with a slight pant, “so you think I’m really hot, huh?”

And I didn’t know how to respond to that in any other way than to just slip onto his lap and kiss him again.

[backtobackbakubabe]

Speak Easy Part 18

Dabi x Reader, Bakugo x Reader

Words : 4276

Masterlist

Reader has a siren quirk and has spent the past several years of her life as a captive being experimented on by “heroes” Now that she’s out she needs protection and safe place to heal. Who will be the one to put her pieces back together.

Words with ‘this’ is dialogue written in her journal rather than said out loud and and words with ~this~ is dialogue said in sign language rather than out loud.

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

It’d been a little over a week since Shoto promised to go to the doctor with you and you were getting a little nervous. At first you were just waiting for the doctors to get settled in, but then Shoto was busy helping get things up and running and evacuating people to the bunker. Now you’ve just been chickening out.

Your period was a few days late, which wouldn’t be concerning if it weren’t for your current circumstance.

You woke up this morning and made a cup of coffee before taking Bravo out for a stroll around the bunker. He loved being able to run around and meet new people. He was a hit with the kids. They loved playing with him almost as much as he loved playing with them. The only downside was, there was only two places in the entire massive bunker that he could go to the bathroom. The farm and a small animal relief area near where the trash is dumped.

Needless to say, neither smelled great, but the farm was considerably better. So here you were, sitting on a small platform that oversees the crops with a cup of coffee and a book. Bravo sitting next to you keeping watch.

It was always a little chilly down here, which you honestly preferred. It just meant you could wear lots of hoodies. The more you could hide your body the better. Ever since leaving Dabi’s house you felt like you were always being watched. You felt so exposed and you just wanted to blend into the background.

Today you wore a new hoodie that Izuku had gotten you. It was probably one of the softest things you owned, and it was the prettiest shade of blue. The blue reminded you of a certain someone’s eyes… of the beautiful blue flames they were capable of creating… but then you’d shake the thought from your head and pull it closer around you.

You were enjoying your new freedom. Not that Dabi’s house had been a prison… but you hadn’t realized how much you missed doing things on your own. You had thought being alone would be hard, but you were thriving. It was never being alone that bothered you before, it had been his absence.

Against Katsuki’s wishes… Shoto had shown you the photos of what was left of Dabi’s car. And he hadn’t been exaggerating. You had almost passed out looking at how much blood soaked the driver seat and even the road around it.

You had been so lost lately. You didn’t know how you were supposed to feel. Your heart ached. You thought you had finally found your home. You had finally started to feel your pieces come back together. Now you felt like that would never happen. He took the last few pieces of your heart with him and you felt like you would never be whole again.

Dabi had been your comfort, your safety, your home. Now you were lost.

You hated that you felt this way. You should hate him. You should curse his fucking name. You shouldn’t be crying yourself to sleep over his death.

His death…

Was he dead? You weren’t convinced. It was too convenient, and there wasn’t a body. You wanted proof. Until then you’d go on believing he was still out there.

You closed the book you were reading. You had been on the same page for the past 10 minutes.

There was no way he wrecked his car like that. You had been in the car with him twice. Yes, he drove a little fast… but he wasn’t reckless. Either it was an elaborate cover up, or someone was after him. Or maybe… someone had been after you and he had gotten stuck in the middle as collateral damage.

“You look like you’re thinking too hard.”

Shoto came and took a seat next to you. “I’d ask what’s on your mind, but I’m pretty sure I already know.”

“Am I that obvious?” You leaned your head on his shoulder.

He leaned his head on top of yours. “It’s normal. I’d actually be surprised if you weren’t torn up over it.”

You let out a shaky breath. “I can’t stop worrying about him. I keep wondering where he is. If he’s okay. If there’s some grand explanation for his shitty behavior.” You shrugged. “I’m just finding it hard to grasp that the same man who held me during my panic attacks was also secretly planning to breed me… It just doesn’t add up.”

“Guilt does weird things to people.” Shoto’s hand found yours and gave it a squeeze. “I know he’s my brother, but I have no doubts about who knew him best. I only know a version of him. I only knew what he wanted me to.” He sighed, “It was obvious you meant a lot to him, and I could see him becoming more… I don’t know… human? For the first time in years he was showing emotions that weren’t rage. It would make sense if you were starting to make him question what side he was on.”

Your eyes narrowed, “So what? You think he did some shitty stuff and decided to help me… because he felt guilty about it? That doesn’t make any sense.” You pushed away from him to look him in the eyes. “Dabi only does what Dabi wants to do. That has been clear to me since day one. So what the fuck did he want out of this? None of it makes sense. Was I just a possession to him? Was I a bargaining chip? Was I just some broken pet that he got validation from nursing back to health? What?!”

You could feel your hysteria building and Bravo put his head in your lap in an attempt to calm you down. You took a few deep breaths. “He better fucking be alive… so I can kick his ass myself.”

Shoto chuckled, “Touya doesn’t stand a chance.”

His eyes looked distant and sad. You nudged his shoulder with your own, “Hey can I ask you something?”

He blinked away whatever far away memory he was thinking about, “I don’t see why not.”

“What was he like? Touya I mean… Before he became Dabi.”

Shoto’s lip turned up just slightly, “He was the best big brother I could have ever had. He was always there to help me when our dad was too rough with me. My dad tried to keep us separated… didn’t want me mingling with what he considered to be his biggest failure.” You flinched at the casual way he talked about the abuse they endured. “But Touya would sneak into my room at night. He taught me how to handle my burns and would bring me cold soba on bad days.” His eyes glassed over, “I was devasted when he died. Well… when I thought he died.”

“I blamed my dad, we all did. So, when he came out of hiding, it was like this enormous weight had lifted off of my shoulders. I hadn’t even realized I was carrying it around, but I had never truly gotten over his death.” He chuckled, “So I went looking for him. I didn’t care if he was Touya or Dabi, I just wanted him in my life again. I’d take what I could get. So, I settled for our don’t ask don’t tell relationship.”

You felt a tear that wasn’t yours hit your lap. Of course this would be hard on Shoto, he’s potentially lost his brother for the second time. “If it makes you feel any better… He admitted to me that he loved you.” You smirked, “Well actually he told me he used to hate you which contradicts your story quite a bit. But he said he always wondered if things would have been better for you if he stuck around.”

Shoto laughed, “Sounds like him. Trying to act like the tough guy who didn’t give a shit… Just like how he was with you. I can’t tell you how many times he called me when he was gone checking on you. Texting me every single time your vitals spiked. He would check the cameras and send me voice memos about how he was going to beat my ass if I didn’t keep my hands where he could see them while we were sparing. But then he would deny it when I asked what going on between the two of you.”

“Hey, come on, I have an idea.” You stood and walked over to the corner of the field behind a small tool shed. You picked up a massive rock and moved it so it was hidden from view. “Can you burn his name into it?”

Shoto eyes darkened, “You want to have a funeral? We don’t even know if he’s dead…”

You nodded, “You’re right we don’t… but I think it’ll make it easier. We can have a place to morn him in private. Weather we mourn his death… or the death of who he could have been.”

Shoto’s shoulder slumped and eventually he nodded. His hand heated up and with his finger he wrote on the rock, “R.I.P. TOUYA”

You both sat there for a while just staring at the rock. You felt too cold standing here in the shade of the tool shed. You gripped your hoodie closer to you and held back the tears that you desperately wanted to shed. You knew you shouldn’t, but you let yourself think of Touya. You thought about what he would have been like if he had gone to UA. If he had become a hero. If you had met him under better circumstances. Would the two of you still have ended up together? Without your mountains of combined trauma would you even be the same people?

“You ready? We should head out soon or we’ll be late for your appointment.”

You rubbed your eyes and sniffled, “Yeah… let’s get this over with.”

Bravo wasn’t allowed in the medical side of the bunker, so you made a quick detour to your room to drop him off. Shoto quietly following behind you. “So how are things with you and Bakugo?”

You groaned and rubbed your temples.

Shoto chuckled, “That good huh?”

“He’s been hovering over me like I’m going to shatter into a million pieces at the slightest inconvenience. I appreciate what he’s trying to do… but it’s just too much. I told him I needed space… and we had a fight. He hasn’t spoken to me in two days.”

Shoto whistled, “I never thought I’d see the day that the two of you had a real fight. Sure, you always bickered like an old married couple growing up. But on anything serious he always caved to your every wish.” He paused at your door, “Wait. So, are you the reason he’s been extra grumpy lately?”

You blushed, “I don’t know… Maybe?”

You gave Bravo an extra scratch behind his ear before closing the door. At that same moment you heard the door next door click shut. Your eyes snapped up to meet Katsuki’s. “Oh hey… I didn’t know you were back from the surface yet.”

“Got back early this morning… I was actually on my way to see you. You have a time to get an early lunch? I want to talk to you about something.”

You played with the ends of your hair, which was an immediate give away that you were nervous. “I actually have some plans with Shoto. But I’m free after that. Shouldn’t take too long though.”

His eyes narrowed at your nervous posture and you cursed how well he knew you. “Oh yeah? What are you guys up to? Maybe I’ll tag along.”

You began to stutter but thankfully Shoto interrupted, “Clingy isn’t a good look for you Bakugo. Like she said… it’s not going to take long. Just wait here and she’ll be back soon.”

You saw Katsuki bristle and decided to step in before he picked a fight with Shoto. You stepped over to him and put your hand on his shoulder. “Hey, I just dropped Bravo off. He’s had some pretty bad separation anxiety lately so why don’t you go to my apartment and hang out with him while I’m gone. Make some coffee, pick out a movie or something. I’ll be back soon, and we can talk then.”

His posture softened as he looked you up and down. It was obvious to him that you were nervous. But he was trying his hardest to give you the space you wanted. He pulled you to him as he sighed, trapping you in his arms. “Okay fine. I’ll babysit the mutt. Can you do me a favor and bring back some migraine medication from the medical ward. My heads killing me.”

You nodded stiffly, hoping it was just a coincidence he needed something from the medical ward. “Not a problem. I have the weighted blanket you gave me on the couch if you want to take a nap while I’m gone. You look like you could use one.”

He squeezed you tighter to him. “I’ll be fine.” He leaned his head on top of yours. “I’ll be better once we stop fighting about stupid shit though.” He pressed a quick kiss to the side of your head, “I’ll see you when you get back.” He released you and looked to Shoto, “Try to behave. The two of you hanging out makes me nervous.”

Shoto chuckled, “Good. You should be nervous. If you don’t figure your shit out soon, I’ll be taking your best friend spot… Kacchan.”

You snorted as you pulled Shoto away. “Are you trying to get your ass kicked? You know only Izuku gets away with calling him that! Well… and me when he’s in a good mood. But even that’s pushing it.”

“Oh, he’ll get over it. He needs a reality check. He thinks the world revolves around him.” He led you down the hall. “He can be such a pain sometimes. But I will admit he’s so much easier to be around now than when we were in high school.” He bumped your shoulder, “In a way it’s thanks to you. As sad as it is, when you went missing, he matured. It was like out of nowhere he realized there were more important things in the world then him and his hero status.”

Something about talking about Katsuki’s emotional vulnerability while walking to the clinic to check if you were pregnant with Dabi’s child made you feel slimy. “Can we talk about something else. Literally anything else. How are you and Izuku doing?”

“Good… we settled into our room. It’s a nice enough room… but it’s right next to my dad’s room. Apparently he’s thought all this time that we were just roommates.” He threw his hands up and scoffed, “Honestly! Did he think we were both professional heroes, making tons of money, but couldn’t afford to live on our own?”

You giggled, “That sounds awkward. These walls aren’t exactly thick.”

“Oh believe me I know. And I don’t care. Poor Izuku though can’t even look my dad in the eye now without blushing.”

You laughed so hard you had to wipe away a tear. “Aw poor Izuku… He’s too innocent for this world.”

Shoto scoffed, “Innocent my ass. That man is a freak in—”

You held up a hand. “Stop, stop, stop! I don’t want to know. He is a pure innocent little muffin who used to braid my hair before workouts.”

“I thought Bakugo was the one who braided your hair? I can’t imagine him being okay with Izuku being that close to you.”

You laughed. “Oh he wasn’t at first. But mostly because Izuku was better than him at something. Kats liked to braid my hair in private while we watched TV.” You shook your head at the memory, “He actually got to be really good at it eventually.”

Shoto had succeeded in distracting you long enough to make the trip to the medical ward, but now that you were here the anxiety was creeping back in.

You paused before crossing the threshold. You knew it was important to find out once and for all if you were pregnant. But you were also enjoying living in ignorance. The fact that you didn’t know meant that you could live your life as normal. If you were pregnant… it would flip your entire world upside down. You would have a life you would be responsible for, a little human that would constantly remind you of the love that almost broke you.

If you weren’t pregnant then… you didn’t know how you would feel. Would you be relieved? Would you mourn?

Your hand found your flat stomach and clenched your shirt. You took a few steps further into the ward and was hit an overwhelming sterile smell. Your breathing hitched and your knees shook. It was too clean. It was too white. It reminded you too much of the lab.

Shoto’s hand took yours and gave it a soft tug. “Hey. It’s fine. You don’t have to do all of this. I can go in and request a pregnancy test and we can go back and do this in your room. Would that make you feel better?”

You shook your head, “Katsuki’s there…”

Shoto’s shoulders sagged, “At this point I think he’d be more upset at you hiding this from him. I’m not telling you how to live your life. I think you’ve earned the right to do whatever the fuck you want. But if it were me… I’d want as big of a support system as I could get…”

You chewed on your bottom lip as you thought about it. Did you want Katsuki to know? How would he react? What if you were pregnant? Would he be disgusted with you? Would he want to help? Your head was spiraling down a rabbit hole of what it and it was starting to make you dizzy.

“Hey, breathe! Just take a deep breath. Let’s get you out of here before you have a panic attack. Wait outside for me. I’ll get everything we need.

You pushed the wave of anxious nausea down and gave a shaky nod. “Okay… But remember to get some migraine medication for Ka—”

“Yeah. Yeah, I remember. Go sit down outside and try and focus on your breathing I’ll be right back.”

You made your way outside and immediately sat down and leaned your forehead on your knees. You needed to get these invasive thoughts under control. You thought about what Dabi used to do. He would sit with you and try and distract you by talking about random shit. You knew he’d be pissed if he knew his younger brother left you all alone during one of your episodes. The thought of him yelling at Shoto was almost enough to make you chuckle.

You took a deep breath and held it for a few seconds and started listing animals that start with the letter A. When you couldn’t think of any more you breathed out. Then you repeated the process with the letter B, then C. You had made it F when Shoto made his way back to you.

“Okay, so they gave me some weird looks. Which makes sense considering I am a gay man asking for pregnancy tests. But they didn’t ask too many questions. I have two tests, a bottle of water, some Tylenol, and a phone number for a doctor… you know, for if it’s positive.”

You took his outstretched hand and stood up. “Okay… let’s get this over with.”

Every step towards your room felt heavier than the last. You just wanted to curl up under your blanket and pretend none of this was happening.

You hesitated at your door for a few moments before remembering you were a tough bitch and barreled through it full of false confidence.

You expected to see Katsuki lounging on the couch watching something on the tiny TV. Instead you found him passed out with Bravo curled up next to him. The sight of it calmed your nerves.

“Hey Shoto, can you get some coffee going? I’m going to wake him up.” You tiptoed over to him and sat on the edge of the couch. “Hey…” You shook his shoulder. “Kats? Wake up. I need to tell you something…”

Katsuki grumbled and his arm snaked around you, pulling you down to his level. “Shhh, m’head hurts.”

You giggled “Hey stop I’m being serious… I need you to get up.”

One of his eyes cracked open. “What’s up you sound like you’ve been crying.”

You sighed, “I haven’t been crying, but I am… stressed…” He sat up and moved so you were sitting facing each other. He nodded urging you to go on. “So… The reason Dabi uh… locked me in his office was so he could go to the store to uh… buy a…. pregnancy test.”

Your eyes stared at your hands and you heard him suck in a breath. “Are you? …Pregnant I mean.”

You shrugged, “I don’t know… we got some tests from the medical ward today and I’m about to take them. I’m just… a little scared.”

A medicine bottle whistled through the air and smacked Katsuki in the face. “We got you your medicine too. You’re welcome.” Shoto was smirking over by the coffee maker.

Katsuki groaned as he stood up. “One of these days I’m gonna kick the shit out of you, IcyHot Bastard.”

He stretched and held a hand out to you. “Alright, come on. Let’s go piss on a stick.”

You felt a weight starting to lift from your shoulders. “Wait. So you’re not mad?”

He narrowed his eyes at you, “Why would I be mad? I knew what the two of you were doing. It’s not like you cheated on me. As much as I wish we were, we aren’t together.” His thumb came up to brush a tear away that you didn’t even know had fallen. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily Y/N. You being pregnant wouldn’t change how I feel about you. I would even be willing to tell people it’s mine if it makes it easier for you. Just tell me what you need, and I’ll do it.”

It was quite for a few moments, while you absorbed and processed this new development. He was surprisingly calm about all of this, and it was making it easier for you as well.

“God you’re whipped.” Shoto handed the pregnancy test to you but was smart enough to remain behind you so Katsuki couldn’t hit him.

You left the boys to bicker as you entered your tiny bathroom alone. You peed on both of the sticks and set a timer on Katsuki’s phone. The next three minutes were the longest three minutes of your life.

You paced as you tried to think of anything else. But your thoughts kept going back to that night when Dabi held you in his recliner after fucking you. He had asked about you having a baby. He had sounded so hopeful. His eyes so bright at the idea of you having a kid with him. Part of you couldn’t believe that was an act. He had seemed so sincere. You thought about how he would react if he knew you were taking a test right now.

The timer went off.

Shit.

Was your whole life about to change?

With shaky hands you picked up the first test. You held your breath as you looked to the second one to confirm it.

You opened the door with tears in your eyes.

“So, what’s it say? Am I going to be an uncle?”

You let out an audible sob. “I don’t know why I’m so upset right now.” You showed them the tests. “They’re both negative.”

Katsuki wrapped you in a hug and ran his fingers up and down your back. “It’s okay to be sad. Shoto made some coffee, I don’t have plans today. We can hang out here until you feel better.”

You cried into Katsuki’s chest as you watched some cheesy movie. He didn’t say anything. He wouldn’t even know what to say if he thought it would help.

You were grieving a child you never had, and a love that was nothing but lies. You needed to let it out. You needed to grieve so you could move on. And this is how you do that.

By the time the credits rolled your eyes were dry and you nose stuffy. “You said you wanted to talk to me about something earlier…?”

Katsuki stiffened, “Yeah, but I think it can wait. You’ve already had a rough day.”

You shook your head, “No… I want to know. I’m just going to worry about it until you tell me. I’d rather you just rip the Band-Aid off.”

He nodded, “We got word that Dabi may have been seen by your old place. We aren’t sure it was him though. Toga had been previously spotted as well, so it’s more likely that it was her. But either way, it looks like the LOV is sniffing around.”

“W—What makes you think it was Toga?”

He cleared his throat, “We have an informant working in the LOV and he told us the last thing he heard about Dabi was that Shigaraki had sent a team to collect him… but when they came back they were bloody and he wasn’t with them.”

You sighed, “Of course he wasn’t.”

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

*The Laws* 1. No fucking shrugging 2. No drugs 3. No saying sorry for something that isn’t your fault 4.We work on communication every day 5. Wake up whenever the hell you want 6. No locked doors 7. We eat three full meals a day 8. No means no, no negotiations 9. We work on exercise every day 10. Ice cream must be kept in stock at all times 11. Accept help when it is offered 12. No lying 13. I will not initiate the sexy time without written or verbal consent.

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

Tags: tags: @falling4fandoms @wifunozomi @here-in-never-land @whore-for-anime @klecksstorys @aurorahoneybuns @theunknownrandom @insane-without-delirium @frenchsfryys @officiallydarkgeek @neofixcs @music-is-all-i-need @katsuki-bakubabe@unadulteratedtastemakerpoetry@dabislittlemouse@aimee1602@pinkhatlizzy @kunaigirlx44 @nii-sanfucker@bestgirlb @silver-stardrop@bakubby99 @squichymochi @sarahschance @babayaga67@starenemy

[this-is-spn20]

Imagine… How happy Sam is to find out you have feelings for him and not Dean.

A/N: Here you guys go! As promised I present a new story! This goes out to all my fellow Sam girls! I also want to know if you guys would want to have me add the gender of the reader. If so would you guys want more male readers and GN readers? Let me know in the comments! Requests are always open! There's no limit to requesting! Spread Love guys!

-Marissa

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

You were convinced Sam was blind. Or had some sort of vision problem. You had thrown this man every hint in the fucking book and he still didn’t get it. You were pretty sure if you spelled it out for him he still wouldn’t get it. You had met the Winchesters through an interesting turn of events. They needed help with a particularly tricky group of shapeshifters.

You were mostly doing research and weapons check. When Dean left for a few hours to question the victims, you got to know Sam. You shared a lot of the same interests. You both had just enough differences to teach each other new things. You got to show him your more modern music choices while he taught you the classics. You and Sam had incredible chemistry. You thought you and Sam would be a cute couple. So did Dean. In fact you confide in him more often than not about your school girl crush with Sam. In fact, you weren’t watching old western movies with Dean and eating your ass off, you were snuggled up under Sam laughing and eating your ass off. Though the underlying threat of him tearing your lungs out if you were to hurt Sam is constantly looming over your head. Dean always acts like he’s annoyed but honestly he’s happy that you feel safe about this stuff with him.

You and Dean over a few months became best friends. Brother and sister even. He always jokes about telling Sam everything unless you make some homemade pie. You comply of course, not knowing Sam felt the same way about you. Dean will be the one who pushes you towards Sam. Things have really been awkward per se with you Sam, you try to distance yourself from him, hoping that your feelings will blow over. Of course, that wasn’t the case.

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

Sam was convinced that you were blind. It seemed that every single hint he had thrown at you was dodged. Every compliment towards you was casually casted aside. Sam, as much as he’d hate to admit it, was jealous of Dean. He always got the girl with virtually no effort. Sam felt that maybe, if given the chance, he could make you very happy.

He couldn’t get over you no matter how much he tried. You were the kindest person, but still a badass. You were soft spoken but passionate. You were just… you. Nothing fake or artificial, just all you. Sam wanted you so badly but also felt like you were too good for him. A woman like you must think he’s some sorry sap. A person as pure as you would be corrupted with someone like him.

Yet a man can dream can’t he?

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

Dean is convinced that the both of you are blind, deaf, and everything in between. I mean, How could you guys NOT see the chemistry jumping off you both? Honestly this whole ‘slow burn’ bullshit is getting on his nerves.

If Dean could force you two to kiss, he would. Maybe he should get both of you drunk off your ass and make you spill your guts. Or maybe he should just tell the both of you straight up to stop being little bitches. Yeah.

Yeah.

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

The next morning at breakfast Dean saw you and Sam and the table talking about an upcoming case and what kind of research needs to be done that day. Dean knew this was it.

“Good morning guys.” Dean’s voice alerting you and Sam to his presence.

You both greet him with ‘Hi’ and ‘Hey’. Dean pours his coffee and clears his throat.

“Both of you both have the biggest crush on each other. It makes me sick, just tell each other already.” While Sam chokes on his coffee you give Dean the most evil look as he smirks and walks out the kitchen.

“I can’t believe that fucker just-” You’re stunned in your seat as Sam interrupts you.

“Was he telling the truth (y/n)?” Sam asked, slightly wide-eyed.

As much as you wanted to rip Dean to shreds, you also wanted to thank him.

“Yes Sam, it is.”

Let’s see where this road takes us.

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

It's short but it's the best I could do. Hope it doesn't suck and that you guys like this! I'll be trying to write more in the future!

Spread Love!

-Marissa

[datleggy]

Let’s take “birth day” literally and have pregnant Buck go into labor someplace really dumb and/or inconvenient.

It's the hormones, Buck would like to say in his defense, but honestly, the omega would have done it even if he weren't nearly nine months pregnant....

The doctor's told him some light exercise will help, even with his due date being so close now, and so after picking Christopher up from school they'd decided to take a nice stroll in the park.

And it would have been nice if some asshole hadn't put his hands on his kid on the goddamn playground of all places! One minute Buck had been struggling to get up off the bench to see why it looked as though Christopher was in a seemingly heated argument over something or the other, with another little boy around his age, and the next said boy's mother was shoving Christopher away with a sharply pointed nail, poking at his shoulder and shouting obscenities.

And Buck was there in a flash, putting himself between Christopher and the woman and telling her to back off. "You don't touch someone else's kid like that, lady. If you have a problem, you come find me."

The woman looks flustered for a moment before raising her voice again, yelling about how she had barely even touched the eight year old, and about how maybe he shouldn't bring his son around other kids if he couldn't learn to play nice. "If you taught that boy some manners we wouldn't even be here right now!"

Buck knows he should have let it go, knows they were causing a huge and unnecessary scene, and this? This next part he totally blames on the hormones. "If your parents had taught you some manners and common sense we wouldn't be here right now!"

And that had only served to escalate the situation to the point where police had actually been called and arrived on the scene--and apparently the woman had been very convincing when she'd burst into tears and told the cops that Buck had threatened her with violence.

Which is how Buck ends up in a jailcell on a sunny Friday afternoon, waiting for Eddie to come and bail him out and worrying frantically about Christopher, who last he saw, as they'd cuffed him and put him into the back of their vehicle, was currently in the custody of a child services worker.

Buck puts his head in his hands and groans, beyond stressed. Not only is this humiliating as all hell, but his alpha is probably going to kill him for letting this shit happen. He should have ignored the woman and walked away with Christopher in tow. Instead, he'd made it worse and gotten arrested for an assault he hadn't even committed. "Jesus Christ."

"Buckley? Evan Buckley?" An officer calls out; he's older, maybe mid fifties, with a faint Southern drawl.

Buck raises his head. He'd only called Eddie fifteen minutes ago, was he really here that quickly? "Uh, yeah, that's me." he says.

"You're free to go; luckily a bunch of witnesses came forward with the same story--you weren't the aggressor here, son. Now c'mon, your kid's waiting for you right outside."

"Oh thank God." he breaths out, immeasurably relieved. But when he attempts to stand up Buck lets out a hiss and doubles over, face contorting in pain.

The officers eyes go wide and he rushes to open the cell, which is nearly empty, thankfully, except for Buck and a slumbering man in the corner, arrested that morning for public intoxication. "Whoa, whoa," the man's eyes go even wider, if possible, when he realizes what's happening. "Shoot, I think your water just broke, young man."

Buck shakes his head, even though the proof is on the bench and soaking his jeans through and through. He whines as the contraction continues, huffing and puffing. "H-hospital. Please." He pleads.

There is no way he's having this baby while still technically in custody at a police station. Hell, they're in a jailcell, for shit's sake. He'd rather give birth like a total cliché and in the back of a yellow taxi!

"I'm gonna have 'em call you an ambulance, but let's get you outta here first." the officer tries to help Buck stand but another contraction hits, this one harder and more agonizing than the last and Buck cries out, his knees buckling under him.

The officer manages to hold him aloft just long enough to reposition him on the floor as Buck pants and tries not to lose it. The contractions are way too close...

The officer radios his men and calls for help. "Need help in the holding cell on floor 2B, we've got a custodial here who's gone into labor. Urgent request for help in holding cell 2B."

Buck can't help but let out a sob--it's even worse than he'd imagined--he's going to end up giving birth inside a jailcell five feet away from some guy who smells like tequila and regret. Alone.

"What the hell is going on in--Buck?!"

Buck sniffles as he turns his head towards the door, where Athena is standing, mouth agape at the chaotic scene before her. "Athena!" he cries, reaching out for her, needy as can be and not giving a damn.

Athena doesn't waste any time, dropping to her knees beside him, letting him rest his head on her lap. She sooths back his curly locks, now sweaty, and look at the officer, asking sharply, "What happened?"

"He was being released when he went into labor--must be from the stress of the situation. Tried to get him up, but that baby's comin' and soon." he informs her, grimacing when Buck whines in pain as another contraction follows his statement, as if to prove the mans words true.

"Eddie," Buck clenches his teeth, tries to stifle another groans. "Need Eddie."

"He's right outside," Athena tells him, reassuringly. She nods at the officer. "Reyes, get me Eddie Diaz, he's a medic and he should be waiting down on the first floor for us. Hurry!"

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

Eddie's at the grocery store picking stuff up for dinner tonight when he gets the unexpected call. He almost doesn't answer it, when he sees it's from an unfamiliar number, thinking it's spam, but something nags at him to take the call.

"Hello?"

"Hey..."

It's Buck. And he sounds upset.

"Buck? What's going on? Everything alright? Who's phone are you using?"

He can hear Buck gulp from the other end of the line. "I've been arrested. I need you to come bail me out and get Christopher out of police custody." he says, all in one rushed statement, like he'd ripping off a band aid.

"Wha--I'm sorry, what? Did you say you're in jail? And Christopher's with the police? What the hell is going on?" Eddie's not proud of the way he raises his voice, especially not in the fruit aisle, where a mother with her toddler gives him a dirty look on her way past, but he's so shocked and panicked he can't stop himself from blurting out, "Buck, what the fuck happened? You were picking Christopher up from school today! Where does jail fit into this?!"

"Eddie, I'm sorry." Buck sighs. "I swear I'll explain everything when you get here, but I don't have a lot of time left on this call and I'm kind of freaking out right now. Please, can you just--"

"Of course, yeah, sorry, I'm on my way, give me like twenty minutes, ok? I'm across town."

"Thank you." the line cuts off abruptly and Eddie's left to ponder what could possibly have happened to have led up to his almost nine months pregnant husband being arrested as he abandons his cart and runs out into the parking lot.

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

Eddie nearly gets arrested himself, with the way he's speeding down the highway before turning onto the main road and parking right in front of the station, where only police vehicles are allowed.

The alpha finds his kid with a social worker, happily munching on a donut. “Chris!?” Eddie runs over and engulfs his son in a suffocating hug. “Are you ok? What happened?” 

Christopher pulls away slightly, nodding. “I’m ok. Bucky got in trouble ‘cause the lady at the park lied. Officer Reyes said he’s gonna bring him out soon.” 

The social worker explains the whole story to Eddie, “Thankfully there were a lot of witnesses who corroborated the events. Your husband should be out in a few minutes; it was all just an awful misunderstanding. The woman at the park is in custody right now for giving the police a false accusation and wasting everybody’s time.”  

Eddie’s shoulders slump in relief and he practically falls into a chair nearby, pulling Christopher onto his lap and holding him tight around the middle. “Is he ok? Buck is pregnant. He’s due in two weeks.” 

The social worker gives him a sympathetic look. “I’m sure he’s in good hands. Officer Reyes will have him out here in a couple of minutes.” 

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

After a couple of minutes turns to five, turns to ten, Eddie starts to get angsty. Which is why it’s a good thing, when he happens to spot Athena rounding the corner and into the station. He calls over to her and she furrows her brows in concern before making her way across to them. 

“Eddie? Christopher? What’s going on?” 

“It’s a long story.” Eddie sighs, “But Buck is being held in a cell right now, they said an officer Reyes was supposed to bring him down here, that he was free to go, but that was forever ago,” he exaggerates. “Can you please find out what’s taking so long?” 

“Of course.” 

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

Buck sobs openly when his alpha enters the room, “Eddie!” he calls out desperately. 

Athena holds Buck close and looks up. “He’s in labor. Contractions are less than a minute apart. He needs to start pushing.” 

Eddie doesn’t hesitate, though his brain feels like it’s about to short circuit if even one more insane thing happens within these twenty four hours. He drops between Buck’s knees and reaches out to squeeze his hand. “Hey, I’m here, I’m here, you’ve got this, ok? Cause I’ve got you.” 

“I’m scared.” Buck admits, tears sliding down face, and he’s shaking like a leaf, terrified that something will go wrong. “I don’t--” he groans pitifully against another contraction. “Don’t wanna have her in here.” 

“I know baby, I know, but she’s coming now, Buck. She’s not gonna wait for us to make it to a hospital. She’s impatient,” Eddie kisses his hand, squeezing again, comfortingly. “Just like you.” 

Buck huffs. “No, like you. Y-you never wait for your soup to cool down.” 

“My Tia’s sopa is worth the burnt tongue.” Eddie plays along, trying to distract him from the pain. “Baby, I need you to push, ok? I know this isn’t how we pictured any of this, but it’s time.” 

Buck nods through the tears and steels himself. 

“Good, good, now push, c’mon, you can do this. I’m right here.” 

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

“You look handsome in your mugshot.” Eddie tells Buck, staring at the photo he asked Athena to send him on his phone.

Buck glares at the alpha. “Funny.” 

Eddie leans down to kiss the frown off his face. “Sorry, too soon?” 

Buck turns the other way in bed with an annoyed huff. “You’re on baby night duty for the rest of the week.” he shuts the lamp light off and then the room is dim with just the moon peaking in through their blinds. 

“Hey,” Eddie sits up, tilting his head. It’s been over a month since the incident, and sure, it hadn’t been pleasant, but Buck and their baby had made it through just fine, health intact, and in the hospital Buck hadn’t seemed too phased after the ordeal, mostly content with Christopher and the baby curled up against and on him. “That was a stupid joke, I’m sorry.” 

Buck gulps. He’s being way too sensitive about this. Everything turned out alright and shortly after the whole thing had passed Chimney had even teased him that of course only Buck would have bad enough luck to end up giving birth in a holding cell. And Buck had laughed it off. 

Mostly because he’d been relieved. 

And then of course with the new baby the last month has been a whirlwind of constant activity, of making sure all her needs are met, of making sure Christopher’s not feeling neglected, of debating on when he should start thinking about going back to work and--

Eddie’s heart leaps when he hears Buck’s sharp intake of breath. “Buck?” 

Buck sits up now, too, swiping miserably at the tears that suddenly won’t stop falling. “Sorry, I--ignore me. I didn’t--” he sniffles. “I haven’t really thought about that day since--everything’s been so busy with--you know?--and--” he cuts himself off with a choked off sob. “It’s the hormones.” 

It’s been four weeks now and his hormones from the pregnancy are still driving him every which way and he feels ridiculous right now, crying over something he should have processed a month ago already. 

Eddie wraps his arms around Buck and pulls him between his legs and against his chest. “Let it out.” he says. “I’m here. I’ve got you.” 

Buck curls into Eddie and releases all emotion he hadn’t realized he’d been keeping all pent up inside. The fear, the anguish--Buck lets himself be held, coddled, loved. 

It feels good. 

After he’s cried for what feels like ages Buck rests the side of his head on Eddie’s shoulder and exhales. “You know Christopher wanted to name her Tuubee?” he murmurs. 

Eddie, who’s rubbing up and down his husbands back, pauses a moment. “’Tuubee’?” he repeats. 

Buck half smirks against his shoulder. “Two B. The cell where she was born.”

.

[captaincravatthecapricious]

Getaway

The trip to Scotland.

cw nausea and vomiting but no details I promise, fainting I think?  I don't really remember, dizziness, food mentions, let me know if I need to add something more I haven't looked at this chapter in a while and I a posting in a rush.

Martin’s hand is damp in his.  The same tacky, salty grit of the Lonely fog.  A little bit of fog trapped between their tangled fingers, or maybe just the anxious sweat of two people who don’t really know each other as well as they should.  

If Jon is being honest, it’s not a comfortable sort of hand holding, but he doesn’t care.  He will keep clinging to Martin’s hand as if that single point of contact can keep Martin weathered to the physical plane.  

It makes packing more difficult, but Jon doesn’t care.  Not as if he hasn’t been living out of a backpack for months, or anything.  (Longer still if you count living off a shelf before most of his belongings were ruined in the flesh attack).  Still, he stuffs in the few items not in his back, and takes a healthy stack of statements and shoves those in, too.  Probably depressing that he can fit those in a single bag with all his earthly belongings.  

Jon doesn’t feel well.  

He hasn’t felt well in a while.  But the exhaustion is getting to him.  Apparently shredding a person with his mind is a bit rough on the body.  Even if the supernatural hunger is more than sated.  

Heh.  The unnatural feeling of being content and full and powerful at the same time as hallow and shakes and weak.  It would be enough to make him dizzy, if he wasn’t already dizzy.  If he hasn’t been dizzy constantly since statements were limited to empty paper, as if he hasn’t been dizzy since his early 20s and his POTS diagnosis.  (And before, but that’s where he was still convinced it was nothing).  

Jon is loathed to let go of Martin’s hand when he starts Daisy’s ancient car.  It’s more than a little beat up.  Jon tries very hard not to remember Mike Crew’s blood in the back seat.  It’s clean now.  Mike’s blood and Jon’s vomit long since scrubbed away.  Nothing quite like being carsick at gunpoint.  

Jon shivers.  

He can’t let himself think about Daisy now.  Such a confusing jumble of anger and fear and sadness and regret and friendship and comradely and resentment.  It’s… it’s too much for him to take in.  

He hasn’t ever been able to reconcile his feelings about Daisy, and now it’s worse.  Worsened with his exhaustion.  They were friends, they were enemies, and he couldn’t give up on her because that would mean that he was also lost.  She hurt him and she loved him in a way.  He couldn’t forgive her and  she was his closest friend for a while.  She was terrible, is terrible, but she was all he had and he loved her for being there.  It’s too much to think about.  And Basira.  Christ, he feels terrible losing Daisy like that, and yes he loved her in a way, but he wasn’t in love with her like Basira is, and he knows the helplessness and emptiness of losing someone he’s in love with.  

He shakes his head roughly.  The bite of headache and way the world sickly twists in and out of focus for a moment distracts him enough to start the car.  He looks over at Martin, pale but solid.  He reaches for Martin’s hand as he drives them to Martin’s flat.  

Jon has to do most of the packing for Martin.  Martin more attached to him than free thinking individual.  Drifting after him, pulled taught by their tethered hands.  A balloon pulled along by the wrist of a small child on a rollercoaster.  Although Jon can’t fault him for that, he thinks that might be an apt description for how he’s feeling.  …Pulled along by unknowable forces beyond his control.  And he’s flapping helplessly in the breeze of a battle far bigger than him.  

No.  Focus.  

Martin.  

Shove clothes and toiletries and tea and books and a few items that Jon judges to look treasured.  A worn stuffed tiger, a few faded pictures, a deck of tarot cards, he even takes the ratty binder that are shoved under the other ones (the nicer ones that Jon has already packed with the essentials), a tattered notebook under a layer of dust, a well loved poetry book, a small box of earrings, and what looks to be Martin’s knitting.  

It’s still a pitifully small amount of luggage for an indefinitely long trip.  The large first aid kit that he found makes him feel a little better.  (Emotionally, but also physically after he downs some paracetamol.  He eyes the dramamine, but he’s going to be driving and he can’t risk getting drowsy.  It’s not like they have time to stop).   

Nausea twists down deep before Jon even starts the car.  Catching at his stomach as he settles Martin’s bags in the back seat.  Still trying to search out the stains that are long gone.  

And oh fuck he killed someone.  

And yeah the bastard deserved it, but Christ he feels sick.  Sitting behind the wheel, staring blankly ahead.  

Martin’s hand in his.  

Martin squeezes his hand.  

Jon squeezes back.  

It’s fine.  He’s fine.  Just… Just drive.  

It’s the next step, and he has always been good at pushing from one step to the next.  Don’t worry about what happens next, just drive.  

Martin is here and… not fine, but alive and whole, and slowly thawing next to him.  

“Hey…”  Jon forces his tight throat and tighter chest to allow the word past.  

They haven’t spoken since Basira told them where to go and gave them a ring of keys.  

This almost shakes Martin out of his stupor.  Almost.  “Hey,” he echos.  

Jon wants to pack so much into a question.  How do you ask everything?  Are you okay?  Do you love me?  Do you know I love you?  Do you need anything?  Are you sure you want to come all this way with me?  Are you okay with moving in with me?  Are you hungry?  If the fog comes for you, will you tell me?  But those are too many words.  Martin starts looking glazed over when there is too much going on.  Too much movement, too many people, too much sound, too many questions.  And Jon wonders if the Lonely only served to magnify this, and if so, did he notice?  Did Martin hide it well?  Did Jon make it worse?  What if he makes it worse now, but what if he makes it worse by not saying anything.  

“You ready?”  This will have to be enough.  

Martin nods, apparently not noticing the pause.  

Jon tries not to jump out of his skin when Martin starts rubbing circles on Jon’s hand.  It’s surprising, but it feels nice.  

More than nice.  

Jon starts the car.  

It’s chilly.  Late September.  And it’s getting dark.  Both in that the sun is going down, and in that storm clouds are gathering.  

Jon knows they can’t stop for the night.  

He just has to get them to Scotland.  Hopefully then it will all be okay.  

They stop at a service station just out of the city.  Jon gets a black coffee.  He buys Martin a tea and a sandwich.  

He knows the coffee won’t do his stomach any favors, and will more likely than not set his heart to hammering, but it will be worth it not to fall asleep at the wheel.  

He can’t let Martin drive until Martin looks like less like a space cadet.  

But Jon hopes the tea brings color back to Martin’s face, even if he can’t quite tell in the sickly light of the service station, or the dim light of the evening as Jon tops up the petrol.  

Highway before and behind, and Jon is throwing up.  Pulled to the wrong side of the road in the dark and the rain.  Trembling as Martin rubs his back and gently pulls back his hair.  

They aren’t even halfway there.  His heart is beating too quickly.  Anxiety?  Caffeine?  POTS?  Nausea?  Who’s to say.  But Jon is miserable, but there isn’t much choice, because being a passenger will make it worse, even if that would mean he could take some medicine.  But Martin is in not fit state to drive.  And Martin must know that, because for all his soothing, he doesn’t offer to drive.  Or he almost offers, but Jon can see the thought die on his lips.  Besides, Jon is fairly certain Martin can’t drive a manual transmission car.  Not that Jon is particularly good at it, and stalled the engine twice leaving London.  

The occasional car and lorry thunders past.  On the side of the road, Jon can feel their movement in his core.  He worries how he will get them safely back on the road, as he spits in the dirt.  

“Sorry.  Let’s go,” he mumbles his embarrassment to Martin.  

He tries to ignore the pitying look that Martin has fixed on him.  

“Sure we can’t stop?”  

Jon shakes his head, and the dizziness threatens to take him down.  He sags against Martin for a moment.  “Can’t risk it.  Perils of being on the run, I’m afraid.”  

Martin frowns at him.  

“I’m fine.  Just… tired and… well, carsick.  We’ll be there by morning.”

“Yeah and the fact that you basically collapsed against me is something I’m just supposed to ignore?”  

Jon waves him off.  

The brief conversation seems to have stolen all of Martin’s words.  He quietly gets back in the car, and Jon shudders and sways without Martin’s warm bulk holding him up.  

He starts the car, and takes Martin’s hand.  

Just a few more hours.  Then they can rest.  

[curls-cat]

Sugar/Spice; Snips/Snails

for @grimmtober day 1: Candy! Also on AO3 and ff.net under the same name. but I can’t link it if I want this to show up in the tags. :/ AU: Sabrina grows up in Ferryport Landing.

*

There’s a boy in the woods. Sabrina sees him, even if none of the grown-ups do. He’s bigger than she is, with curly gold hair like hers, wearing a big green hoodie. He keeps looking at her through the trees and grinning. There are fireflies around him, even during the daytime, even now that summer’s all the way over.

Sabrina knows better than to go outside herself. Mamma and Daddy and Granny all say it’s too dangerous, that she’s too little and sometimes people are mean and might hurt her. And even when people aren’t mean, the woods is really big, and she could get lost so easy. Mr. Canis could find her, but someone mean might find her first.

But there’s a boy in the woods. And there aren’t a lot of other kids in Ferryport Landing. Especially not ones she can talk to (in preschool there’s Bella and Natalie and Toby and Wendell, but only Wendell is allowed to be her friend. And everything else is secrets, secrets, secrets—don’t tell anyone about Mr. Canis, Sabrina, or about what being a Grimm means, or about why you’re extra excited to get to first grade and see Ms. Snow). And all Sabrina’s Halloween candy disappeared last night.

Sabrina wanted to be Alice in Wonderland for Halloween, but her parents said No and Granny said Politics and didn’t explain what that meant, so Sabrina was Stephanie from Lazy Town instead and had to wear an itchy pink wig the whole night and none of the grown-ups knew who she was supposed to be. And now all her candy’s gone and nobody believed her when she said she didn’t eat all of it.

So the next time the fireflies come out, when it’s just starting to get dark and the shadows from the woods reach all the way to the house, Sabrina follows them. They’re pretty, even though up close they’re too big to be lightning bugs, and they glow too bright. She didn’t really think they were bugs.

She follows them as they dance between the long shadows of the trees. She didn’t have time to put on her shoes before she left, so her socks are getting wet in the grass. It’s gross. They lead her right to the edge of the woods, and then they scatter.

Sabrina is, for a moment, alone in the gathering dark of the woods. Nearly all the leaves have fallen, and it’s gray and brown and so, so quiet. No birds or bugs. No Mamma or Daddy or Granny calling for her to come inside. She can see the house through the trees, and it looks warm and safe and like it’s calling her back.

“Scared?”

Sabrina spins around and pulls her hands up the way Ms. White taught her—you have to protect your face—and sees the boy, sitting in a tree a few feet above her. Up close, he’s different than she thought. Still a boy, still a kid like her, but older. Taller. And dirty. He’s holding her candy in his hand. She knows it’s hers because it’s still in her plastic jack-o-lantern with her initials on the bottom in her very own handwriting.

“I’m not scared of you,” she tells him.

He grins, flashes too-sharp teeth. “Sure. That’s why you jumped a mile high when I said something, little girl.”

“I’m not a little girl!” she says, even though she is, and she knows it. “I’m a big sister!” She balls her fists tighter. “And that’s my candy.”

“Finders keepers,” he says. He unwraps a pack of oreos and pops them in his mouth. His fingernails are too sharp, too.

“You’re rude,” she says, but she puts her fists down. He doesn’t seem mean, just… messy. And gross. And mean, but she said that already.

“So’re you,” he says, and hands her a pack of Starbursts.

Sabrina accepts her candy, unwraps it. Inside there’s two pink ones and an orange one. She wrinkles her nose and eats the orange one. She’s not supposed to have candy before dinner.

She’s also not supposed to talk to strangers. Especially not strangers who are ab-so-lute-ly Everafters.

“Why’d you take my candy?” She sits on the ground. Her socks are already dirty, might as well get mud on her overalls, too. The boy won’t care. He’s dirtier than she is.

“I was hungry,” he says. “I just told the pixies to get me food.”

Not fireflies. Pixies. Sabrina squints at him. “You’re not supposed to talk about magic.” She doesn’t know what a pixie is, but she knows for sure it’s magic.

“I thought this town was full of magic,” the boy says. “A ‘haven for the homeless,’ that’s what your ancestor said when he convinced all of us to follow him over here. Or a prison, if you listen to anybody else.”

“There’s people, too,” Sabrina informs him. “Lots of ‘em. Normal people. Boring people. I have twelve in my preschool class. And they’ve all got parents. Some have brothers and sisters, too.”

The boy looks suitably impressed. Then he wrinkles his nose. “Boring,” he tells her. “I was hoping this place would be fun. But it’s got rules too, huh?”

“Everywhere has rules,” Sabrina says. “My daddy says they’re to keep people safe.”

The boy snorts. “To keep you from having fun, more like.” He pops a Reese’s into his mouth.

Something occurs to Sabrina, then. “How’d you know about my an-cestor?” The new word feels strange on her tongue. She thinks it means like your grandpa, but extra.

The boy nods in the direction of the house. “I watched him build that place. Slowed him down, too. Plus I’ve been watching.”

“I know,” Sabrina says. “I saw you.”

“What’s your name?” he asks. “Other than Grimm. Your first name.”

“Sabrina,” she offers readily. “What’s yours?”

He tosses her another pack of Starbursts. “Puck.”

*

Sabrina brings Puck food for a few days. She likes keeping him secret. Everyone’s busy with the new baby, and Sabrina loves Daphne, sure, but babies are boring and she doesn’t know why all the grown-ups care so much about someone who can’t even do anything. She also feels a little left out, maybe, and it’s nice having someone who’s hers. They talk. He’s a prince, he says. He’s exiled, he says. He’s famous, he says. He’s the coolest. He doesn’t have to say that part. Sabrina thinks so, too.

They spend afternoons in the cool dark woods, and Puck takes her flying, because he’s not just too sharp, he’s also got wings, because he’s a fairy, which Sabrina has never met before. They share her Halloween candy. He turns into animals, and he listens to her tell him about preschool. She’s learning to read, a little. She can read the street sign for their road. Puck thinks reading and books are boring. She yells at him about it.

That’s the other thing about Puck. If she gets mad at him, he doesn’t tell her to stop throwing a tantrum or go to her room like her parents, and he doesn’t start crying or tattle to someone like the other kids at preschool. He yells back. And then they’re friends again.

*

Mr. Canis is the one who finds out. He follows her to the woods and says, “I wondered where all the caramels went.”

“This is Puck,” Sabrina says. If a grown-up did have to find them, she’s glad it was Mr. Canis. He’s not a regular grown-up, not the kind who tells her what to do and gets worried or talks down to her. He just talks, and listens. Sometimes he says weird stuff, but other than that, he’s almost like a regular person. “He was hungry.”

“I know who he is,” Mr. Canis says. “I’ve been watching him.” He looks down at Sabrina. “What I didn’t know was that you knew him.”

“He took my Halloween candy,” Sabrina says. “Nobody listened.”

Mr. Canis doesn’t say anything. He looks Puck up and down. 

Puck stares right back at him, then, at long last, says, “Don’t get mad at her.”

“I am not angry,” Mr. Canis says. “You should come inside and meet the family.”

Puck wrinkles his nose. “I’m not going to move back inside. I’ve finally broken out of being civilized.”

“I am not asking you to,” Mr. Canis says. “But inside there is food that will not rot your teeth.”

“Everafters don’t get cavities.”

Mr. Canis laughs. It sounds like a dog barking. It always does. “I can assure you we do.” He shows Puck his own too-sharp teeth, points at a shiny silver spot in one of them. “I had this filled myself.”

Puck’s eyes go wide, and his hand comes up to his face. He gives Mr. Canis another long look. “What kind of food?”

“Weird food,” Sabrina informs him. “Granny’s cooking tonight.”

Puck thinks for a second, then shrugs. He grins at Sabrina. “I like weird.”

*

Puck keeps living in the woods. Sabrina has to tell a grown-up before she goes to see him, now. The grown-ups all have a long conversation after Mr. Canis tells them she’s been going in the woods to visit a Strange Boy (he’s not a strange boy, she tries to tell them, but nobody listens). After, her parents sit her down and have A Talk with her about Danger and how Not All Everafters Are Nice. She listens, even if she thinks they’re coming at it wrong. Puck isn’t nice. She doesn’t want him to be nice.

They grow.

*

At age nine, Sabrina runs out of the house, ignoring the sound of her dad shouting after her. This time, at least, she’s wearing shoes. She heads straight for Puck’s trash throne. The pixies greet her on the way, rising out of the shadows of another gathering dark, as they always do. She appreciates it, though she barely needs it, can find her way to Puck without any help.

“What’s Hanky yelling about?” Puck asks instead of greeting her. He’s sitting, as usual, on his porcelain throne atop a mountain of broken furniture.

Sabrina throws him a bag of fun size Milky Ways—it’s the family’s Halloween candy, and her mom’s going to be mad that she has to buy another bag, but Sabrina doesn’t care. She doesn’t care about anything and it’s not like they’ll even be here in a few weeks and her parents don’t care about what she wants, anyway, so why should she care about them?

Puck catches the candy, opens it, and pops one, fully wrapped, into his mouth. He spits the wrapper out onto the ground a few seconds later, covered in spit and melted chocolate. He does this a lot. Sabrina always calls him gross and makes a stink about it. Today all she can think about is how she’s not gonna be able to see this anymore in a few days, because—

Puck notices her silence. “What, Grimm? Finally seen sense about ‘the environment’?”

Sabrina isn’t sure she wanted him to notice. She thinks maybe she wanted him to act like everything was normal and maybe then she could pretend it really was, for a bit. But she sort of also wants someone to listen, someone she can yell at who won’t talk about safety. Someone who cares about what she wants, even if he pretends not to, instead of pretending to when they don’t, like her parents.

“We’re moving,” she says, and she keeps her voice flat, even, because if she doesn’t, she’s going to cry.

Puck stops chewing and stares at her. “You can’t. There needs to be a Grimm in Ferryport Landing.”

“Not all of us,” Sabrina says. “Granny’s staying. But Mom and Dad, and me, and Daphne… we’re leaving. Dad says town is ‘too dangerous.’”

“This is about the stupid ‘Scarlet Hand’ or whatever.” It’s not a question.

“Did they talk to you?” Sabrina asks.

“Nah,” Puck says. “Everyone knows I wouldn’t.”

“Yeah,” Sabrina says. Because they’re friends. He’s her best friend, better than Wendell, even, even though Wendell goes to school with her and they’re in soccer together and he gave her a valentine last year that he’d picked out especially for her, the only one in the pack with a lollipop and a sticker.

“I won’t join anything that I can’t be the leader of,” Puck adds, because he can’t just be honest, ever. That’s okay, though. Sabrina understands. Honesty is hard.

She sits down on the edge of the pool, feels rough concrete under her hands, looks at the murky water, the level dropped low enough that she can dangle her feet in and only the very bottoms of her shoes touch it as they sway back and forth.

“When?” Puck asks.

“By the end of the year,” Sabrina says. “Mom got a job, and Dad asked me if I wanted—” her breath hitches, half anger and half rage— “if I wanted to help him pick out an apartment. Like this was exciting.”

“You could run away,” Puck suggests.

Sabrina laughs without humor.

“Plenty of woods,” Puck says. “You don’t have to stay here. Hey, I know! You could go up to the asylum with the other crazy little girls!”

Sabrina halfheartedly throws a piece of concrete at him. It clatters down the side of his trash mountain nowhere near him and rolls to a stop nearly at her other hand, still resting on cracked cement.

“Mr. Canis would find me,” Sabrina says, at length. “And they’d just make me go, anyway.”

“How? The old lady can’t leave, and neither can he. Just run away again before one of your parents comes to get you.”

“And leave Daphne?”

The younger girl practically worships the both of them. Losing Puck is going to be hard enough for her, but losing Puck and Sabrina… It’ll break her heart. And there’s no question about bringing Daphne with them. 

For a long time, neither of them say anything. Sabrina had sort of been hoping Puck would have an answer. A real one, one that would work.

“You can visit,” he says at last. “They can’t keep you away forever.”

“Yeah,” she says. Because Mom had said that, too. Said that they could come back on weekends and over holidays, as long as Granny said things seemed safe.

She looks up at the boy she’s known for half her life, who’s been her best friend almost as long, who she’s going to stop being able to see soon. He’s been exactly the same the whole time she’s known him. When she sees him next, she’s going to be closer to his height. She might even outgrow him.

She knew it might happen. They don’t talk about it, but they both know. Someday, Sabrina’s going to have to be an adult, and Puck won’t. She’s not sure she wants to be an adult, but she doesn’t think she wants to be stuck, either. Doesn’t want to be powerless forever.

There’s nothing else to do, though, so she rolls her head to look at Puck upside-down, who’s eating another Milky Way, and says, “Pass me one of those.”

*

There are Everafters in New York City, of course. Sabrina sneaks out over the weekends, meets Puck’s brother. Gets in trouble. Finds out the Scarlet Hand is here, too. Tells her dad, hopes it’ll get them moved home. It doesn’t, it just gets her in a different kind of trouble. She doesn’t care, keeps sneaking out to get in the right kind of trouble, the kind that means she’s part of her family, still sort of connected to Puck.

In three years, when the barrier comes crumbling down, and the Everafters start trying, really and truly, to take over the world, it pays off. Because now nowhere is safe. And she wants to tell her dad she told him so, but she’s busy trying to watch the news that her parents won’t let her see and find out if her friends are safe and everything is loud and angry and dangerous and she tried to prepare but it wasn’t enough.

They still make her go to school. It’s stupid. None of this matters, and she tells them that over and over, but they make her go anyway, and when she’s proven right because there’s a lockdown on the third day since the Everafters declared war, she’s just angry about it.

She’s hiding in the bathroom with two other girls who got caught between classes, and the other two are crying, when noises come down the hall in their direction. Sabrina looks around for something she can use as a weapon. 

The door swings open.

Sabrina prepares herself for a fight.

She’s hit in the face before she can do anything, by a small projectile—a bullet? Since when do Everafters use guns? She’d have thought getting shot would hurt more.

She looks down. No blood on the ground. 

Just a green skittle.

She doesn’t have to look up to know who’s going to say “Hey, Grimm.” She doesn't know what's coming next, but as soon as she hears Puck's voice, she knows the can handle it. Together.

[temilyrights]

ask her out

Summary: Alex Blake x Fem!Reader. Your crush on Alex is getting out of hand, so the team calls you out on it and tries to convince you to ask her out. 

A/N: Hello! This is my first time writing for Alex, but I’ve been rewatching season 8 and completely feel in love with her all over again. I definitely will continue writing for her if people are interested.  As always, feedback is welcome and appreciated :) Enjoy!

Fluff, light angst, and a little nsfw/smutty. James doesn’t exist in this fic but she’s still referred to as Blake because I forgot her maiden name was Miller. 

Alex’s eyes flick to you as you step into the room, the door shuts behind you with a click that earns the attention of the students in the hall. Her speech doesn’t falter, drawing back the students to her lecture, she smiles at you though, subtlety telling you she’d be done in a few minutes.

You lean back against the wall and watch. This was the first time you’d seen her teach. You didn’t get the art of linguistics like she did, but you couldn’t help but be captivated by the passion in which she taught. She looked comfortable, confident, and relaxed. It was nice to see. At work there tended to be a constant furrow of her brows due to the stress of the cases, but here, none of that was present.

You didn’t want to admit it, but it was attractive. The way she controlled the room and quizzed her students with such confidence...Your schoolgirl crush had been active since the first time you met her but by god, this was going to spin it out of control.

“Okay, that’s all for today. I’ll see you next week.”

The students quickly pack up their stuff, the rustle of paper and bags along with the screeching of chairs filling the room. A few of them shoot you interested looks as they exit, their eyes falling to the gun strapped to your waist. You don’t pay them much attention as you push yourself off the wall and make your way to where Alex is packing up her own things.

“You were early.” She says in way of greeting. You lean against the table beside her and shrug.

“Wanted to finally see the legendary Dr Blake in action.”

She shakes her head with a small laugh, slipping the last papers into her bag before putting it onto her shoulder. She looks at your gun and arches her brow. “And you couldn’t leave that in your car?”

“Habit.” You shrug. You really hadn’t thought much about it to be honest, but the half-smile on her lips makes you happy you were wearing it. You liked making her smile.  

“Right.” You stand up properly and you fall in step with her as you make your way out of the room and down the corridors towards your car. “So, what did you think?”

You tilt your head, a guilty smile crossing your lips. “Still not my thing, but if I was going to attend a linguistics lecture, you’d definitely be the tutor I’d pick.” oh my god were you flirting?

She looks at you with interest, humour in her eyes as she hums. “Well, there’s still time.”

Your cheeks tinge pink and you quickly avert your gaze, laughing lightly to try and cover up your reaction. Luckily, you’re at your car now, so you unlock the doors and slide in and by the time Alex has moved to get in the other side your cheeks are back to their normal colour.

“Thank you for this again.” She says as you strap your seatbelt on and put the keys into the ignition.

“It’s not a problem.” You smile. Her car had broken down a week ago and she’d been stuck relying on the subway and cabs to get around. It sucked, especially when she had days that switched between lecturing and at the BAU, so you’d ended up offering to give her lifts. She’d tried to refuse but you knew how frazzled she’d been every time she arrived. She’d eventually relented and accepted your offer to pick her up from Georgetown.

“Still, you didn’t have to.”

“I know, but I wanted to.”

Alex smiles, her eyes soft. The way your heart thumps in your chest has you scrambling for a change in conversation.

“Plus, it’s not for free.” She arches a brow as you smirk. “I want coffee and you’re buying.”

She breaks out into laughter as you pull out and onto the road.

---

After that, it becomes harder to ignore the butterflies in your stomach every time you see her. You felt ridiculous for letting the feelings take control, but you couldn’t help the way your eyes always travelled to where she was in the room. Her desk being opposite yours did not help.

It’s about two weeks later after she’s left for a class (she finally had her car back) that Spencer hesitantly approaches your desk. You look up at him with a frown, noticing the way his fingers were drumming against his leg.

“Is everything okay with you and Alex?” He asks sadness and concern deep in his voice. Your eyes widen slightly in surprise.

“Yeah, of course. Why?”

“You keep sending her these sad looks, and you won’t stop watching her. Do you not trust her? Did something happen?” He pressures, a slight dread to his tone. You knew how important Alex was to him, the idea that something was wrong would not do him good.

“Of course, I trust her. Nothing has happened. I promise.” You look around the room to make sure no one else is listening. JJ’s lips are sitting in a subtle smirk, but her eyes remain attached to the paperwork in front of her. She was obviously listening, and you didn’t know whether to be grateful or not that she hadn't joined the conversation. You look back to Spencer who’s frowning.

“Then why do you keep staring at her?”

“I don’t.” You try to refuse, but your cheeks are already turning pink.

“You do. When we’re in here working your eyes flick to her roughly every seven minutes.”

“Seven minutes? No that’s ridiculous.” oh god. oh god. oh god.

“Hers is about every 10. Although last Tuesday it nearly halved in time. She never looks sad though whereas you do.”

“Alex doesn’t stare at me.”

JJ chuckles from her desk, and finally stands up and makes her way over. “Game is over Y/N. You’ve been called out.”

“Game?” Spencer frowns, “What game?”

“The game is which both Y/N and Blake pretend they don’t have a thing for each other.”

“I don’t have a thing for Alex.” You bristle, but your cheeks betray you as they turn pink.

“Right, uh-huh.” JJ laughs.

Spencer’s eyes widen as the realisation hits him. “Oh.” He seems to turn an almost pale shade of green, obviously thinking about the woman who was practically a mother figure to him with someone wasn’t the nicest thing. “Well, uh, I think she feels the same.”

You scoff, “No she doesn’t because there isn’t a thing.”

Spencer smiles genuinely, “Last Tuesday, you wore a shirt that was a lower cut than normal. That was the day Alex wouldn’t stop staring at you. I didn’t make the connection until now. If she’s getting coffee, she’ll almost always offer to get you some too. On the jet, after a bad case, you always sit next to her because she makes you feel safe and relaxed. You listen to her talk about linguistics even though you find it boring. You both are constantly aware when the other is in the room. When-”

“Okay, okay, okay!” You shout, cutting off his ramble. “You win. There may be some feelings but it’s just a crush and I’ll get over it.”

“Or you could just ask her out?” JJ laughs.

You shake your head, “No. We work together. It would be unprofessional, and really uncomfortable for everyone if it didn’t work out. Plus, just because she looks at me occasionally doesn’t mean she likes me like that.”

You did silently feel proud that Alex hadn’t been able to stop looking at you when you wore that shirt, but you could find someone attractive without wanting to date them so really it didn’t mean anything.

“You smile more when she’s around. You should ask her out.” Spencer says, rocking on the balls of his feet slightly.

You sigh and shake your head, but he continues before you can speak. “We should tell the people we care about that we care about them. You both deserve to be happy.” A shadow crosses his face before he pulls a smile back to his lips.

JJ clears her throat, “Spence is right. Ask her out.”

You look between them for a moment and then release a long dramatic sigh, “Fine. Okay. I’ll do it.”

JJ claps her hand while Spencer smiles. You can only groan.

---

The next morning the team is called to Colorado for a case. JJ keeps sending you looks, and Derek won’t stop smirking which means he knows and by extension, Penelope probably too (though she’s yet to say anything). She’s terrible at keeping secrets which means your days are numbered until Alex finds out.

“Why do they keep looking at you?” Alex asks quietly from beside you on the jet. You shoot JJ a glare and turn to face Alex. Your heart immediately starts pounding in your chest when you realise just how close her face is to yours. You clear your throat as you turn away.

“Who knows.” You shrug, burying your face into the book in your hands. Alex watches you for a moment longer before turning back to her own book.

You glare at JJ again over the top of your book and Alex pretends not to notice.

The second the jet hits the floor you’re in case mode. It’s not until the evening that you finally get to sit down properly. Everyone’s still at the police station waiting for the dinner that Rossi and Derek had gone to collect.

You collapse into a chair and yawn, rubbing your eyes tiredly.

“Here,” Alex says as she approaches, holding out a fresh cup of coffee.

“You’re a godsend, Alexandra Blake.” You release a satisfied sigh as you accept the cup and take a sip. Alex moves to sit in the chair beside you arching her brow.

“Alexandra, huh? No one has called me that in a long time.”

You shrug, “It’s a pretty name.”

“It means-”

“Defender of Mankind.” You cut her off and enjoy the impressed look she sends you. “Did my research.”

“I’m proud.”

You roll your eyes, “Please, looking up a few name meanings isn’t exactly difficult, so don’t get your hopes up.”

“My hopes are officially low, don’t you worry.” She smirks and takes a sip of her own coffee before looking back at you. “What other names did you look up?”

“Mine and the rest of the teams. Couldn’t have you thinking you're special.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” She holds your gaze, and it isn’t until JJ enters the room saying something about the food being here that she looks away.

---

The case only lasts a few days and before you know it, you’re back on the jet on your way back to Quantico.

Penelope’s waiting in the squad room, practically jumping on her feet as she welcomes you all. Her eyes flick between you and Alex with absolutely no subtlety and you have to suppress a sigh.

She follows you to your desk and you pray she doesn’t question you with Alex still in the room.

“So?” She asks as you take a seat at your desk. She’s trying to talk quietly but in Garcia’s terms, that’s just normal volume. You look at Alex who’s standing by JJ’s desk, her eyes meet yours and she smiles at you with a slight furrow of her brows. You look back to Penelope.

“No.”

Penelope’s face drops, “Why did she say no? You’re amazing and wonderful and-”

“She didn’t say anything. I didn’t ask.” You turn back to your desk, busying yourself with papers that didn’t actually need your attention. You just wanted her to drop this before Alex’s suspicions that something was wrong were confirmed.

“Well, why not?” She moans.

You release a frustrated groan, “We were on a case, I couldn’t exactly ask her while standing over a dead body.”

“Obviously not, but there were evenings. You could have asked her over dinner or on the jet or literally any other time.”

“Maybe I don’t want to.” You growl, dropping the papers to your desk and turning around to glare at Penelope.

“You said you would!”

“Seriously? Do any conversations stay private in this place?”

“Not when you have them in the squad room,” Alex says as she approaches, Penelope spins around her face frozen in a way that tells Alex she was definitely the topic of conversation. “Everything okay?” She focuses on you, her brows furrowed in concern and you have to look away.

“Yeah, it’s nothing. It’s late and I’m tired so I’ll see you guys tomorrow.” You push yourself up from your desk, grabbing your bag and avoiding both their eyes as you hurry out of the room.

You’re nearly at the elevator when Alex catches up with you. “Y/N, what’s going on?”

You shake your head, your eyes not leaving the elevator as you wait for it to hurry up and arrive. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Can I give you a lift home?” Alex offers.

“I’ll be fine. Thank you though.”

“Please. You shouldn’t drive home if you’re that tired.” You meet her concerned gaze and after a long moment of consideration, you sigh.

“Okay. Sure.”

You expect her to start questioning you the second the doors close, but she doesn’t and you’re relieved. Instead, you both just talk like normal. The conversation comes to an end on the drive home though, and you fall into a comfortable silence. Your eyes remain fixed to the window instead of on her as you debate asking the question everyone wanted you to ask.

You frown when she drives past the turning to your house, “Hey, we just drove-”

“I know.” She cuts you off, eyes not drifting from the road. You release a resigned sigh and sink back into the chair. It wouldn’t do any good to argue with her.

You’re only half surprised when you arrive at her house. She parks and turns off the ignition without a word, and you follow her lead as you make your way into her house. You take your shoes and coat off just as she does and follow her through to her kitchen.

“Tea?”

“Sure.” You agree, leaning back against the counter as she begins making it. It’s silent between you and her, the only sound is the whirring of the kettle and the nervous tapping of your fingers against your arm.

“Here you go.” She passes you the cup before leaning back on the island counter opposite you.

“Thank you.” You take a sip and hum, “Is this from Emily’s tea of the month thing?”

“Yes, Penelope gives me some every time it arrives. This one is my favourite so far.”

You nod, not sure how else to respond. It’s silent for a moment before Alex speaks. “So, do you want to tell me what’s going on?”

You sigh, “It’s just the team trying to get involved in stuff that isn’t any of their business, and you know them, Penelope especially, the second they get their hands on a bit of gossip…” You roll your eyes.

“The bureau thrives off it.” She places her cup of tea down on the counter beside her before crossing her arms and looking at you with a thoughtful expression, “You didn’t quite answer my question though. This gossip, it’s about us, right?”

Her tone leaves no room for argument. You sigh and place your own cup on the side. There was no point in lying to her, and you didn’t want to. “Spencer came to me a few days ago because he thought that we weren’t getting along.”

She frowns, “That wouldn’t cause this amount of gossip because it’s obviously not true. Why would he think that?”

“I know.” You sigh, rubbing at your neck and not quite meeting her eyes. “Uh, so, apparently I look at you a lot and he thought that that meant I didn’t trust you or we’d had an argument or something. I explained that wasn’t the case, but he insisted something must be wrong and then JJ was there and teasing me about it all and it all spiralled out of control and before I knew it, I was agreeing to something that I didn’t want to agree to, not because I didn’t want to ask, but because I was scared that if I do ask that it’ll change things or ruin things and I don’t want-”

“Y/N,”

“-that to happen. I knew you’d find out anyway though, I’m terrible at lying and Penelope can’t keep a secret to save her life and you’re an amazing profiler and I just don’t want to ruin things between us just because I have a giant crush on you and am scared to ask you out on a date. I understand if you’re uncomfortable now.”

“Y/N, honey, look at me.” She comes closer, her hand touching your chin to try and get you to lift your head. You resist. “Please.”

The plea gets you to lift your head. She’s smiling and your heart flutters.

“I’m going to kiss you now, okay?” You can only nod and then she’s gripping your neck and pulling you in. The first brush of her lips has your heart pounding, and then there’s another and another and another and your hands grip onto her blazer and her fingers brush the hair at the base of your head and all you can breathe, and smell is her and it’s amazing.

She pulls back all too soon, and you make a small noise of protest which has her smirking. Your cheeks are flushed and both of you are breathing a little deeply. Her hand leaves your neck to wrap around your waist.

“W-why?”

“For a profiler, you suck at reading the cues when someone is interested in you.”

“I don’t, I just didn’t want to assume or-”

“Y/N, my first case in Seattle, one of the detectives spent the whole case trying to flirt with you and you didn’t see it.”

“She was just being friendly.”

“Right because it would be totally normal for me to tell Dave he has really pretty eyes while touching his arm.”

“I-fine. Okay.” You pout. Alex suppresses her smile by biting on her lip and your eyes immediately zero in on the action. Your tongue swipes over your lips. “I need you to kiss me again.”

Her own tongue swipes over her lips before she dips her head, her nose brushes against yours. Her breath hitting your lips. “I think it’s your turn.”

You take a heavy breath as your hand slides up to grip her neck. Your eyes flick to hers, enjoying her darkened gaze before you close the final bit of distance between you. There’s none of the hesitancy of last time, just kisses that quickly heat up as your hands move to grip at her hair and she pushes you back into the counter.

Her leg slides between yours causing a whine to escape your lips. Alex wastes no time in taking control of the kiss, her tongue sweeping against yours as you begin to squirm against her knee.

“Alex.” You moan as her lips begin to leave a trail of kisses down your neck. “Please, Alex.”

“Please what?”

“I-uh, oh.” You groan as her teeth scrape your neck and her hand begins to make its way under your shirt.

“Use your words.” She smirks.

“Bed. Please.”

“It’s not a sentence, but I’ll make an exception for you.”

You hum as she captures your lips in a toe-curling kiss before completely stepping away. You feel lost without the contact.

“Come on honey, follow me.”

You don’t need to be told twice as you quickly hurry after her, grabbing her hand and twisting her back into you before kissing her deeply. It’s her time to moan against your lips.

“Yeah, sweetheart. Follow me.” You smirk, stepping away before quickly making your way to her bedroom as Alex follows behind you.

[flying-nightwing]

Throne of Blood (3/3)

Hello there! Last part of Throne of Blood, I hope you appreciated this little serie! I loved t write it tbh, it was a nice change from the usual DC stuff I write. If you want a bonus chapter, let me know! I thought about doing either a prequel for when they invaded the castle, or some headcanons if y’all have some.

Ps: I realised I kinda made Bruce to be the bad guy here, oops. Sorry about that, but to my defence, family drama was something I built toward from the beginning 😅 Full disclosure, I have nothing against Bruce and Damian pls don’t come at me

Masterlist in bio / pinned!

Pairing: King!Jason x reader x Roy

Word count: 4414

Warnings: same as the last parts (cautious nsfw) + family drama lmao

"--and the might of the casc… cascade could never compare to the ce… cerul… cerulean of her eyes. She was his hope, the only thing he cherished, none of his posse...ssions could ever be worth as much as a minute with her"

You paused to breathe as you reached a paragraph break. You could feel Roy's relaxed stare on you, a small smile ever present on his lips. His hand was absentmindedly rubbing your knees that were lying over his thigh, while his other arm was snugly wrapped around your waist. The quiet crackling of the fireplace indicated the need to add a log, but neither of you wanted to move from your nestled position. Eventually one would have to, though, before the room grew cold. 

"I like it when you read to me" Roy hummed, almost like he hadn't meant to say it out loud. But if you knew one thing about him, it's that he carried very little shame when it came to love. He would never intend to hide his thoughts when they came, and you admired that about him. Still, you couldn't help but look down in embarrassment. 

Him and Jason had taught you to read some months after you joined them, when he passed you a map to find a town's name and you had to tell him you couldn't. Ever since, you worked often on your reading skills, leafing through whatever seemed interesting from Jason's library. But you weren't a natural, far from it. 

"I can't even pronounce all the words correctly" You mumbled. "It must be hard to follow sometimes"

He gently pushed your chin up so he could look into your eyes again. It didn't matter for one second for him that you didn't have the diction of an erudit or the flow of a poet. All he wanted was to hear your voice and watch your eyebrows knit in concentration when you butted on a difficult word. He liked the little things so much better than the finished product.

"I think it sounds perfect"

The corner of your lips rose slightly at his praise as your heart skipped a few beats. Even after all the time you spent together, he always managed to find the right word to make you love him even more, if it was possible. His constant and unconditional support was your crutch, the thing you could rely on no matter what happened, the safe space in which you would never feel judged for what you couldn't do. 

"You know" He began again when he noticed you had trouble believing what he said. You wanted to believe him, but deep inside he knew it was harder for you, and he understood all too well the feeling of not being enough. "I couldn't read either before I was taken in by my warden"

You tilted your head to the side, frowning slightly. You had never known. 

"Took me years to get average at it. And you should have seen my writing-- Hell, you should see it now, it's catastrophic" 

You couldn't help but giggle along as he laughed. It was contagious.

"It's the same with Jason--No wait, the brat actually taught himself how to read somehow" He blinked slowly, like he was still surprised by it. You weren't really, you knew Jason was even smarter than you were aware of. Than anyone was aware of. "But his writing was terrible until he got a proper tutor, that I know of for a fact"

"But his writing is so…" You trailed off, trying to find the right word. "Exquisite"

"Now who's pulling out the big words, uh?"

"Shut up" You laughed, lightly hitting his chest with the book. “Don’t mock me”

“I’m not!” He argued, giving you wide, innocent eyes. He looked too cute for his own sake. “I swear I’m not. You’re just adorable when you get all flustered”

“We better start gearing up now” You evaded the subject, clearing your throat. “Jason will be expecting us--”

“Just one more chapter” He interrupted softly, caressing your waist. “Please?”

You held his stare for a moment before you were convinced, and you nodded, a sheepish smile on your face. You opened the book to the page you had marked and found the paragraph you had stopped to. 

“As he was sitting by the window, he couldn’t help but think about the ar-arrival of the spring, only a few weeks away if nature de...cided to be kind--”

“My Lord, my Lady” 

You paused your reading and looked up. This time, it was Roy who looked the most annoyed of the two of you. 

“It’s time”

You sighed and nodded, putting down the book on the table. Roy was clearly disappointed, but he helped you nevertheless get back on your feet, being careful not to pull on your bandages too much. You were healing well for your condition, you could now walk around and sit down without much help. Still, Roy and Jason didn’t like the idea of leaving you on your own for too long, just in case someone tried to come for you. You definitely couldn’t wield your axes just yet, so it made you an easy target even if you weren’t bed ridden anymore. 

You walked out of the chamber beside Roy, him following your slower pace without complaint. You reached the other end of the hallways and entered another room with chests and racks, where your equipment was kept. You began putting on your suit, the one you had made when you rode beside the Red Hood, well before he was king. It was all black with a red pointed arch on the chest that imitated Jason’s sigil, which was outlined with a single silver following your collarbone. It rose up the back of your neck and was reinforced to protect your vitals. 

“Could you help me pull it up, please?”

Roy nodded as he finished to lace his arm braces, stepping right behind you. He picked the stiff fabric and gently tugged it over your shoulder, brushing his fingers against your skin along the way. He was even more careful with your injured shoulder, making sure it wasn’t bent in any way to fit through the suit. He and Jason had advised against you wearing it, but you were stubborn and refused to show weakness in front of the enemy. Besides, it looked great on you. Roy then buttoned up the suit on your back and up your neck before giving you a kiss on the temple. 

“Close your eyes, I’ve got a little something for you” He whispered in your eyes, and despite your initial confusion, you did as you were told and shut your eyes. You felt something being passed over your head and gently rest on your shoulders, then straps being adjusted on your sides. “You can open the now”

You did as he said and looked down as he gently directed you to the mirror on your left. He had placed a beautiful piece of equipment that paired well with the colors of your suit, lightweight and practical, that covered your shoulders front and back. You usually went without, but it was appropriate considering another arrow in the back would do you no good right now. And since you most probably wouldn’t be using your axes anyway, you could do without your full shoulder movements range. 

“Where did you get this?” You asked as you trailed your finger on the skillfully crafted metal. There was no doubt it had been made for you by how it fit with both your body and suit. It must have cost a fortune.

“The blacksmith in town, the one living near the gates of the castle” He began. “His son was killed by the guild of thieves that lived uptown, the ones we wiped off right after the undertaking. He wanted to thank us somehow, and when he learned about what happened to you, he made this as a present”

“It’s… Very beautiful” You breathed out. “I’ll have to thank him later on. This must have taken so much time to make”

“But you deserve it” He said as he placed a light kiss on your jaw. “You deserve the best. And the best suits you”

“Thank you” You nodded, taking his hand. The leather of his archery glove was rough against your skin, but it had also become a comfort born from the endless days you spent training and hunting on the road. It was tied to some of your best memories with him, and it still amazed you how a simple touch could bring it all back vividly like that. “Come on, Jason must be waiting for us”

You went down to the court, where Jason was talking with the commander and some generals. Upon hearing your footsteps, he perked up and turned around, taking you specifically in. He smiled and nodded, heading for the three black steeds, groomed and in full armor, in the hands of the stable hands. You followed him and grabbed the reins of your mount, carefully climbing on its back and sitting in the saddle.

“Are we ready?” Jason asked.

“Of course” Roy replied first, then both of their eyes set on you.

“Let’s do this” You nodded firmly.

With a kick of your heels, you took off the court and onto the bridge, in the direction of the Wayne Kingdom.

---

“Soooooo…” Roy trailed off. “Do you think he stood us up or..?”

You looked away from the horizon and to Roy, who was slouched over the pommel of the saddle while his horse was trying to dig for grass through the snow. “Maybe he’s trying to ambush us”

“I don’t think so” Jason mumbled, his eyes still set northwest. His back was straight with a hand resting on his hips, the other holding the reins tight. His horse was attentive, chewing on its bit in anticipation. “It wouldn’t be like him, not while we’re on this hill anyway” 

You nodded as your fingers flexed around the reins, a bit bored and definitely not impressed by the opposite party being late to their own meeting. There was barely any wind over the field, and the thick cover of the cloud didn’t let the sun rays through. Still, smoke came out of the horses’ nostrils with every breath they let out. 

“There they come”

You glanced forward again at Jason’s warning, seeing a small party of riders coming your way. They didn’t seem to be in a hurry, walking rather than trying to reach you at a trot. The closer they came, the better you could point out characteristics for each rider. The one at the front was wearing all black with a cape that fell over the pale gray horse he was riding. It was almost white, but the dark skin around its eyes and nose proved differently. The second rider was on a smaller chestnut horse, and was a child. You blinked a few times, but his youthful features were obvious. The two other riders some paces behind were an escort, soldiers with steel armors and banners from their kingdom. 

After a long waiting for them to actually be at hearing range, they finally stopped a few meters ahead and assessed your party. Jason was visibly tense, but his blue eyes gave nothing out on how he was feeling about seeing his father in front of him after all this time. They stared at each other for long minutes before the piercing glance of Bruce Wayne set on you. You clenched your jaw, not backing down, until his eyes finally left you. 

“Your… Friend seems to have healed quite well” The older king spoke first.

“Don’t act like you give a fuck” Jason sneered. “You were the one who made this coward attack on her happen in the first place”

“Watch your mouth, runt” The child on the side almost barked. “You’re speaking to a legitimate King, unlike you”

“And who the fuck might this goblin be?” Roy said before he could stop himself. While the child looked appalled, Roy was still very relaxed on his horse. He might have been the only one to be, even if you did want to laugh at the outburst.

“I am the blood son, the true heir to the throne” He replied with all his might, except it didn’t quite have the desired effect, since he was on a pony, for one. “You peasant will respect me, or--”

“Damian, please” Bruce interrupted firmly. “Now is not the time to settle this”

“But--”

“Why am I not surprised that you fathered a brat?” Jason leaned forward, feeling taunting for a moment. “Which one of your concubines had enough bad luck to get pregnant? Selina? Or was it Richard’s lover, whatever was her name? Or maybe Talia, oh memorable Talia--”

“Don’t speak of my mother that way” Damian pulled his sword out. 

“So Talia it is” He smirked. 

“We are here to negotiate peace, not fuel a war” Bruce replied sternly. “I can do much worse than an arrow in the shoulder of a loved one, you know it. So be careful what you’re advancing about my family”

“Then keep your son on a tighter leash” Jason said, his face returning to a serious expression. “I still haven’t made my mind about keeping peace, don’t give me reasons to leave this meeting before we can discuss it”

“I should be telling you this” He squinted his eyes slightly. “You have thrown over a stable ally of this kingdom and stole the crown, then taken prisoner the King of Blüdhaven without giving a follow up on his state. You are in no place to threaten a war, yet here you are”

Jason waited a few seconds, not letting his stare waver. Then, he sighed and whistled. The plains were silent, until the faint sound of hooves cantering on the crisp snow grew closer to your position. Soon enough, you were passed on your left by another rider, slowly walking around you and toward Bruce’s party. Dick had a neutral expression as he turned around, stopping at Bruce’s side.

“Here” Jason waved his hand dismissively. “Your golden son, unharmed albeit slightly vexed”

“You should still pay for a crime like this” Bruce said.

“It’s fine” Dick tried to appease the tensions. “I do not wish to further this conflict, I have done enough already as it is”

“Why didn’t you fight back, Richard?” Damian asked in a judging and accusatory tone. “This is a disgrace to our family, and a display of weakness--”

“I was trying to avoid a much worse escalation of this conflict by owning a diplomatic mistake I made in the first place” He bit back. “What would you even know of politics, spoiled child?”

Roy laughed, and the sound only seemed to anger Damian more. You were in the middle of a family conflict, and unlike him, you didn’t know this side of the family well. You didn’t really know how to act, so you observed what would go down rather than actively participate. 

“I find the ginger man’s insolence unwelcomed in this matter” Damian said, trying to wash down the humiliation his brother had just handed to him. “He’s got nothing to do with it, and he’s got no title. He shouldn’t even be speaking”

“He speaks because I say he can” Jason defended Roy in a heartbeat, his tone strong and authoritative. “As far as I’m concerned, I’ve got a crown and you don’t, which puts me above you in status and therefore my wishes outweigh yours”

Your eyebrow rose slowly as your eyes met Roy’s, who had an equally stunned expression. Jason had never used his status against anyone like that. It even seemed to take Damian by surprise, which was, with what you had learned about him in the last minutes, a hard feat to accomplish. If you were honest with yourself, while you loved Jason as a humble king, you were curious about the other side of him, even if he would show it in private.

“Your crown was stolen” Bruce reassessed. “The Kingdoms surrounding yours have decided this gesture would not stand. I wished a peaceful surrender from you, but it doesn’t seem like I will convince you to do so. You have three days to abdicate, until the next full moon, or your kingdom will be taken back by force”

“You think this is wise?” You finally spoke up on instinct, and all eyes turned to you, looking at you with surprise. You weren’t about to let those threats stand, especially not from Bruce. “Ever since King Jason came into power, he wiped out a guild that stole from families and murdered good people. Our kingdom is the safest for miles around, so much we get waves of new settlers even in winter. He lowered taxes on the population so much that most towns in the country have become flourishing trade posts in the span of a year, and instead taxed the nobility and cut on useless balls and dinners. Nobody starved last winter, and nobody is starving this one. Do you think the word didn’t get out to the other countries around? People are starting to want this for themselves too, and you think putting them through a devastating war will make things better? It will only make them resent you, those who didn’t already. We have people in every castle you know of who are ready to turn against you the second they get wind of aggression--”

“Bullshit” Damian called.

“Are you ready to take the risk?” You raised an eyebrow at him, before returning your glance to Bruce, who betrayed no emotion. “You will lose this war if you start it. You should consider your people before you send them to slaughter”

Silence fell over the hill for a moment.

“... What she said” Roy grinned, breaking the silence.

Bruce looked at Jason for a reaction, or most likely, some sort of opposition to what you had just said. Instead, he only readjusted his reins and straightened his back. “You heard right,” He said, not wavering. “You have three days, until the next moon, to annulate the warrants and back down. Think about your people, Bruce. Make the right decision”

With that mocking reprise of his father’s previous words, he turned his horse around and left him dumbfounded. With one last glance to their party, you followed Jason, trotting, then cantering away and back into your borders. Once you passed your soldiers’ road control, you slowed down to a walk.

“Huh” Roy exhaled as he leaned forward to glance at you over Jason’s horse between you two. “I didn’t know we had spies in other kingdoms”

“Now that I think about it,” Jason blinked a few times, his brows slightly furrowed. “Neither did I”

You shrugged. “Maybe we have them. That would be neat” 

You saw confusion, then astonishment flash in their eyes like their reactions were synchronized.

“Wait, did you just--”

“Did you fucking lie to Bruce in his face?” Roy cut off, almost yelling. Then, he laughed. “In his face?”

“By the time he realizes, no, if he even realizes I bluffed, we’ll have a solid plan to ward him off, no matter what he does” You explained. “We win”

“How did you manage to convince him?” Jason had an innocent incomprehension written all over his features, like a child in front of a magic trick. He was adorable. “You had me convinced”

“Oh, boys” You grinned. “You think women survive this long in the world without becoming excellent liars? How do you think I managed to infiltrate the staff for a week before we invaded the castle?”

“By… Um” Roy trailed off. “Cleaning well?”

You laughed. “People had questions, my dear. I had to build myself a credible life to feed them, so I wasn’t thrown out of the castle instantly. Lying to the enemy is a skill I learned to cultivate a long time ago”

“You’re awesome, you know that?” He sighed, a loopy smile on his face. Jason still had a starstruck expression on his face, his eyes sparkling with admiration.

“Wouldn’t hurt to hear it again, I must admit” You teased back, jutting your chin up. “But there is one thing that would be better… Last one in the bedroom owes the first one a shoulder massage”

You didn’t wait for them to register your words before kicking your horse to a gallop, no doubt closely followed by them.

---

The dancing light of the candles of the chandelier left a soft glow on your naked skin, moving around and spreading warmth as it crawled up and down your body. You were sitting upright as hands moved gently on your shoulders, careful to avoid the sensitive area of your still healing wound. In your laps was Jason’s head, your hands threading slowly in his black hair as his eyes were shut close. He wasn’t sleeping, his breathing made his chest rise too fast for him to be. But he was relaxed, his neck muscles were untensed on your legs and there were no harsh lines on his face. 

You looked behind you when Roy’s hand stopped massaging, pulling your hair to the side and kissing the back of your neck. 

“You really gotta get a faster horse” Your lips curved upwards. “You’re always losing these races”

“I think my horse’s speed is just fine” He whispered back. “Besides, you are both right where I want you to be”

Jason smirked. “Losing is always suddenly part of someone’s plan when they never win”

“Laugh all you want” He sighed, dramatically laying down on his side beside you, then leaning forward close to Jason’s ear. “We all know I end up winning anyway when you beg my name like a prayer, My King”

You could feel the shiver travel up his spine on your laps, as well as the sudden shift in the tension in his muscles. You played along and let your hand slightly pull his hair, which surprised a moan out of him. His eyes opened wide, the blue of his irises being quickly consummated by the black of his pupils. Then, his glance set on Roy, something hard to read beside the promising spark in it.

“Are you sure you’re ready for a, what, fourth go at it today?” He raised an eyebrow as his hand brushed his cheek. “I didn’t think you jaw recovered from earlier”

You laughed airily as Roy grinned mischievously. “Maybe you can take that voice when you put that brat child in its place” You suggested as you trailed up your hand up Jason’s bare chest. “I’m sure he would be happy to get back on his knees if you did”

Roy groaned at the suggestion, already imagining the whole scene behind his fluttering eyelids. However, Jason didn’t quite follow up on his reaction. “Don’t tempt me with…” He trailed off, then noticed the mood change. “Hey, is there something wrong?”

Jason blinked, then shook his head and gave a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. “I’m fine” He muttered, leaning forward to place a soft kiss on Roy’s lips. 

“No, something’s bothering you” He insisted gently. “What is it, Jay?”

Jason sighed, shaking his head. “It’s nothing” He replied, looking up to the ceiling. “Don’t worry about it”

“It’s clearly not nothing” You said as your hands threaded softly in his hair. “What’s eating at you?”

A silence followed your words. It was like Jason was searching for the right words, like he wanted to say it so bad but something else was holding him back. You were patient, however, and you didn’t mind that he took his time to tell you. You knew he would talk when he’s ready.

“It’s what Bruce said” Roy beat him to it, speaking barely over a whisper. “Isn’t it?”

You looked in between the two men, noticing how Jason did not deny Roy’s words. It was like they were having a silent conversation for a few seconds, before Roy put a comforting hand on his shoulder. 

“It’s how he didn’t see him as part of his family anymore” Roy spoke up, addressing you this time. “How Bruce didn’t seem to have any regret about replacing him in any way possible”

“Even after all this time” Jason gulped. “He won’t even stop reminding me he didn't care”

“Oh, my love” You reached for his hand and grabbed it, intertwining your fingers with his and giving it a squeeze. “He doesn’t deserve you beating yourself up about him like that. You’re worth so much more than anything he could even give you”

“She’s right,” Roy nodded. “We’re your family now, not him. Not him ever again. And I promise you we’ll never betray you that way, we’ll never set you aside. You’re our lover, you’re our King, you’re the most important person for us, and we would do anything for you”

You could see the crystal gleam of tears pooling in his eyes before he blinked them away, resisting the urge to break down. Jason had not often known true affection until he met Roy, then you. He felt like he didn’t deserve either of you, and sometimes he wondered why exactly you decided everyday to stay by his side. But you did stay, you did support him and guided him when he needed it. He wouldn’t have been anywhere near where he was right now without you. 

“You’re both so good to me” He whispered, adoration clear in his voice as he glanced at you, then Roy. “What would I do without you?”

“You’d be wonderful either way” You smiled as you slipped beside him, careful not to pull on your bandages. Soon enough, Roy joined him on the other side, snuggling into him. “You’d miss on major cuddling, however”

His chest rose in a silent chuckle as he pulled you and Roy just a little bit closer. “Give yourselves more credit, I’d crash and burn without you both by my side”

“Let’s not bother with what ifs, yeah?” Roy replied, his lips curved upward as he kissed his shoulder. “It only matters that you’re here with us today, and that you are a damn good King. The rest doesn’t matter”

“The rest doesn’t matter” Jason repeated in a mutter, nodding lightly. “Only you. Only us”