#anyway at first childe thinks he’s got it in the bag like the cocky shit he is

[zorosdimples]

sending childe—a notoriously impatient man—on an impossible scavenger hunt as a way to stave off his advances (since he won’t take “no” for an answer). you tell him that if he can complete it within a day’s time, he can court you.

[skylarstark4826]

Shit.

She couldn’t think of anything else. She was stooped over her toilet for the fifth time this week. Even when she ate nothing, her stomach clawed its way through her throat. Her core flexed in that telltale sound. The papaya she had for a “light” breakfast spilled out of her. Her eyes stinged. With tears of pain, and of regret. The fruit was perfectly ripped. It was ridiculously delicious going down, but coming back up, it burned like a motherfucker.

She had faced sprained shoulders and broken bones, but morning sickness was another beast. And Attuma could not know about any of this. Not while he was away from home. This mission was huge for the Wakanda-Talokan alliance: a unit of elite warriors from both nations goes to an undisclosed location to destroy some data on vibranium locators. That was the minimum information that her husband of two years was allowed to give her.

And usually that would be enough. She would watch him pack up. She would clean his rebreathers one more time while he dressed. She would hold him tight as she planted small pecks onto his smiling lips. She wouldn’t even tell him to be safe. She would tell him to hurry up. To hurry back to her. He was more than capable, she knew that. He was phenomenal. His fighting prowess was godly. He was a hero to his people, to her. And now, he was off, proving himself to be an ally to her country. She never worried about him.

Yet, she longed for his cool hand on her back. Comforting her with his hearty laugh and his legs encasing hers. She knew that he’d sit on the floor with her. She knew that he wouldn’t stop smiling when he looked at her. His cheeks touching his eyes as he would beam over her. His wife. Carrying their child.

Another wave of nausea crashed over her. Her husband - the father of her unborn child - was somewhere she didn’t know, somewhere she couldn’t reach, somewhere she couldn’t help. He was cocky. She knew his showboating before she even knew his name. It was one of the many things she grew to love. Like the look of confusion and admiration when she landed him flat on his ass. But this mission was high alert. This mission was different from training or game night.

This mission had her husband not coming home. Her child may never know the joy of her father’s hand, or the beauty in his songs. This mission had her raising their child alone, broken from Attuma’s playfulness, his seriousness, his intensity. Her body jerked, but nothing came out. Not even her wails of fear as she slumped down on the bathroom floor.

—

He woke her up with kisses. She was snuggled in their bed, cuddling her pillow close to her chest. She resisted him at first. She pursed her lips and clicked her tongue. All without opening her eyes. Her frustrated grimace made his heart flutter. He was conflicted between letting her sleep more and waking her just to hear her groggy voice.

She had bags under her eyes to which he pressed his thumb to feel the smooth, puffy skin. Her breathing was shallow, constantly sighing, constantly emptying herself. She had a slight snore. Okoye never snores. At least, not lately, not since they got married. She made it a habit of relaxing. Morning stretches, evening mediation, journaling, painting, crafting - she was regularly in search of leisure. A newly found word for her.

No longer Okoye of the Dora Milaje. Occasionally Okoye of the Midnight Angel. But now, she was his yatan, and he was her wíicham, and something was obviously wrong.

But he’ll shower first. He smelled like sweat and saltwater, and he needed to rehydrate his body anyway. Plus, she could get some more rest before getting guided out of her sleep by her clean, sexy, peace-keeping husband. At least, that was the plan.

“When did you get home, Bhabha?” she sat on the couch as he stepped out of the shower. Her legs were bare and crossed, freshly oiled as it reflected the low light of the lamp. He chuckled at her self-controlled tone: low from her lack of sleep and the terrible hiding of her smile. He strided back to their room with her feet pitter-patter behind him. “How did it go? The mission?”

“Well.”

She handed him his pajama bottoms, opting out of the boxers. He rarely wore them anyway. Something about restrictions of the self, he had told her.

“Were you safe?” she sighed. Not waiting for a response, she fired off, “Will they be sending you out again soon?”

He slid into his clothes. An amused smirk planted on his face. She was sitting on the bed, gazing up at him through her eyelashes, pleading for more details, prying actually. He stepped in front before sliding to his knees. Her neck lowered, holding contact with his own. Beautiful, brown, and boring into his soul with a searing curiosity. He couldn’t help himself. He pecked at her lips before asking:

“What’s wrong, K’iino?” his words fanned over her face, surrounding her in gentle sincerity. “What’s with all the questions?”

Her mouth twitched as if she wanted to scream. She turned from him, releasing a muffed sigh. Her calloused fingers cupped his own, and she massaged his bruised knuckles. His adam's apple bobbed at her tight-lipped smile and the restrained tears pooling at the edge of her eyelids.

“Okoye?” his playful voice strained. “What happened?”

“Nothing,” she pressed her lips. “Nothing at all.”

—

Bullshit.

He went to sleep with her cradled to his chest. Since he returned after two weeks from another mission, she would never spend the whole night in bed. Her warmth slipped from his grasp, finding its way into their bathroom. To which he was forbidden from entering with her, so he sat outside the door. Some nights, she just had to pee. Like clockwork, at 2:15, 3:15, 4:15 in the morning, she’d burst from her sleep, softly pushed his arm off her waist, and quietly sprinted to the toilet.

Those were the good nights. On the bad nights, she slept on their tiled floor. Her body weakly carried her to her knees, and she would vomit until her voice was hoarse. He could hear her crying. She knew he could. No matter how quiet she tried to be, she knew he had his ear to the door, waiting for her to call his name.

But he couldn’t see her like this. Her muscles spasmed as she tried to pull herself back to her feet. She shook like a newborn doe, tumbling to the ground with a loud boom. She gripped the counter as her vision blurred. She used to be strong enough to toss grown men like ragdolls. She used to command her body to fight against fatigue and fear, but now, she was struggling to climb off her bathroom floor. She was struggling to tell her husband the news.

She hasn’t yet decided whether it was good news or bad news. For him, it wouldn’t be anything but good. Attuma dreamed of being a father, dreamed of Okoye being the mother of his children (always plural). He was nothing if not doting, if not patient, if not dependable. But what kind of life would their children have? What kind of life could she provide for them?

The products of two of the strongest warriors from two of the most powerful nations: would they be prepped for war? Would they be snatched from her bosom and onto the battlefield? Would they rip them from her body and leave them to die in the name of Wakanda, in the glory of Talokan? Would her children know the joys of laughter, of her? Would she be able to protect them, or would they be wrestled from her grasps?

Who would protect her? Aliens, superhumans, usurpers, colonizers - she’d fought them all. But childbirth. Childbirth.

God, what if she died, and they only knew her as Okoye of the Midnight Angels? What if they only knew her as the woman who chose war over them? Was her country worth more than this baby that her body lulled? Was her husband’s? She needed him. She needed Attuma to be alive and smiling and holding her. They would look like him, she just knew it, and it would break her if the only thing left of him belonged to a baby that would never know their father as their father.

“Okoye! Okoye!” his hands clasped her shoulders, and he was right in her face, “Baby, breathe! You are fine.” She was not. She was going to die. He was going to die. Their baby was going to die. “Okoye, wake up. Wai-”

—

She wasn’t at home. She knew that as soon as she opened her eyes. She also knew that her husband was staring a hole into the side of her head. She dared to look from the corner of her eye, and they locked eyes. His mouth puckered into a scowl, and his jaw clicked as he grinded his teeth.

She was awake. He was angry. And she was pregnant. Fuck.

“Three months,” he said with his voice thick with malice. She avoided his eyes as she sat up in the bed. Her temple reeled with a headache; her stomach campaigned with hunger; and he was mad at her. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I was going to tell you,” she countered.

“You were going to tell me?” he scoffed. “When? When you couldn’t hide it anymore?”

The room felt too small. The walls were constricting on her, and her stomach churned. She had no excuse, no rebuttal. She was going to tell him. That was the honest truth. But she didn’t know when or how. She didn’t mean to hurt him, but here he sat with her. In the hospital, with sad, red eyes, scared for his wife, for his child, and she couldn’t even get out of bed to comfort him. Partly because her legs were still asleep, and because it would break her heart if he rejected her touch.

“I was going to tell you, Attuma.” Breathe, girl. “I swear. I didn’t want you to find out like this.”

He rose from his seat, pacing around her bed, like a shark, singling out his prey “Did you want me to find out at all?”

“Yes! Yes, Isithandwa! I wanted - want - you to know. But I didn’t want to distract you from what’s important-”

He popped his neck as he twisted hard to glare at her. His normally bright blue body was purple. Rage coursed through his body, and Okoye wished she could sink into the floor. Because when he spoke, his voice did not boom. It did not shake the room, or shattered the windows, or echo inside her chest. It was strained and broken, filled with desperation and betrayal.

“What could be more important than you?”

Her heart sank. She bit into her bottom lip, muffing her cries as tears stained her cheeks. She stared at him as he shuddered. His knees were the first to give out. His hands instinctively dived out to catch him, but the sob that escaped his throat was earth-shattering. She shot out of bed, gathered him in her arms as she kissed his temple, mumbling, “I’m so sorry” into his hair.

There they sat, crying, apologizing, confessing that their baby, their future, was the most terrifying thing in the world, yet they would conquer this fear. Together.

[luminnara]

I wonder what Dick would be like trying to flirt on the lead up if the mission, trying to be smooth and cool before screaming next to Weasel. The back track of trying to be cool again after than freak out would be glorious and I would probably fall for it, lol

Dick Hertz x fem!reader

This ended up way longer than intended and I am not mad about that lol

Sfw but raunchy!

Requests for oneshots and HCs are open!

You were no stranger to the concept of the suicide squad.

Thanks to your own colorful past, and powers that you couldn’t always quite control at first, you were stuck serving out a long ass sentence at Belle Reve, the shittiest shit hole of them all. Your only escape from the mundane, high-security monotony was the occasional mission from Waller.

The Suicide Squad—more officially known as Task Force X—was the latest installment in Amanda Waller’s series of highly classified, top secret, black ops teams. She chose Belle Reve’s most infamous criminals, many of whom had extraordinary powers and even more extraordinary reputations, and tossed them together on incredibly dangerous missions. You knew she didn’t care whether you lived or died, but successfully completing such impossible tasks always cut time off your sentence, and with nothing else to do with your time, you always thought it was worth the risk.

And besides...you hadn’t died yet.

So when Waller approached you during your daily yard time, you already knew what to expect.

“Yeah, yeah.” You grumbled as you followed her into the exam room and plopped down in the same old chair. “I know the drill. I go off mission, you blow my brains out.”

“—with the explosive device implanted in the base of your skull. Correct.” Waller said, unimpressed.

“And what, you have to give me a fresh one?” You raised an eyebrow as the doctor made you lean forward. “Lose the button for the last one or something? Or are you afraid that just one won’t do the job?”

Waller looked even less impressed. “I suggest you put a lid on that attitude today.”

“Why?” You winced at the feeling of a thick needle pushing into the back of your neck. “Jesus, fuck! Seriously, how many little bombs do I need in my head?”

“Good luck, puppy.” The doctor sneered as you stood up to follow Waller back out into the corridor.

“This is a black ops mission.” She continued with her usual spiel. “Your commanding officer is Colonel Rick Flag.”

You gasped. “The Colonel Rick Flag?”

She turned to glance at you.

“I have no idea who that is.”

You could hear her sigh in exasperation. “Suit up and go outside to the transport. You’ll meet the rest of the team and fly out to Corto Maltese.”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes. Yeah, the Suicide Squad was a nice distraction from your shitty everyday life...but putting your ass on the line for someone who didn’t give a shit whether you lived or died, and who was always hovering above the button that would splatter your brains all over the wall, wasn’t exactly the greatest feeling in the world.

Waller waited as you ducked into a room to change. There was a black box waiting for you, and upon opening it, you couldn’t help but grin at the sight of your old gear. The dark gray leather suit fit like a glove, and your gun had been cleaned and polished after your last mission, the painfully bright fluorescent lights reflecting off of the barrel with a gleam. You grabbed your gloves and strapped your ammo belts on before buckling a gray carbon fiber mask on.

Wearing your own stuff always lifted your spirits. It was the suit you’d been arrested in a few years ago back in Metropolis, and after seizing it, the feds had been nice enough to give it some upgrades with newer tech. Anything to make you a better government-sanctioned killing machine, you guessed, and it’s not like you were gonna turn it down. After all, killing was how you ended up in Belle Reve in the first place, and it was one of the only things you were good at...it just made sense for Waller to want to put your near-inhuman skills to good use.

You walked out to join her again, lugging a canvas bag of equipment and supplies along behind you.

“Pick that up and carry it correctly.” She snapped as the doors at the end of the hall opened.

“Why don’t you eat my—“

You interrupted yourself by groaning at the bright sunlight as it hit your eyes, raising a hand to shield your face as you managed to spot an armored truck waiting for you.

“You’ll have a lot of new teammates.” Waller called after you. “Be on your best behavior. I’m not responsible for anything they do to you.”

“Probably just a bunch of old farts like always!” You yelled back as you jumped up into the back of the vehicle.

Two guards sat down on either side of you as you got yourself settled in. There was another woman already waiting, her skin orange, her hair in a high ponytail that seemed to be pulled through the top of her helmet. She was regarding you with very little interest, and that was absolutely fine with you. You had a few friends within the Belle Reve prison complex, and you weren’t necessarily looking for more.

The ride was short and uneventful. You passed through a few gates that took forever to open, waited for a few security checks, the usual shit. When the truck came to a halt and you hopped out again, you were at a small airbase hosting a few hangars for planes and helicopters, one of the latter already sitting outside. Guards from Belle Reve were lining the circle of armored vehicles, and as yours joined them and the back doors were opened once more, you grimaced at the bright sunlight.

“Afraid of a little sun?” The orange woman laughed, baring her teeth at you.

“Hurts my eyes,” you mumbled, jumping down after her.

You landed on pavement, looking down at your feet in an attempt to avoid the oncoming headache you knew was imminent. When your shoulder rammed into someone, though, you had to look up anyway.

What you saw wasn’t exactly what you were expecting.

A good looking blond guy was looking down at you, a cocky grin on his face. “Whoa, didn’t realize we were getting a babe this time!”

You glared at him, grateful for the mask covering the lower half of your face.

He couldn’t see you blush that way.

“Little girl’s got some ammo, huh?” He reached for one of the belts strapped across your chest,

Your hand flew up to grab his wrist and you held him in a Vice-like grip, your glare more pointed now. “Touch me, and you can see some of it from behind your eyeballs.”

Blondie whistled lowly, relaxing his arm. “You’re tough, huh? I like that in a girl.”

You dropped his wrist and rolled your eyes. “Still gonna like it when I’m ripping your balls off?”

You could swear he was swooning on his feet. “Baby, you are a goddamn tease...”

“Oy, Dickhead!” An Australian voice rang out, “back off!”

His grin faltered for a moment, obvious disappointment flashing over his face. “Oh. Got a man already. Damn.”

“Who, Boomer?” You grinned, unclipping your mask as you turned to wave at one of your only friends. “Nah, I’d never fuck that wanker.”

“I heard that!” The gold-toothed Aussie yelled.

You let out a loud laugh as you looked back to blondie.

You were caught off guard by the actual, genuine look on his face. He was admiring your smile now that your mask was off, his eyes lingering on your lips for a fraction of a second longer than they should have. He was trying to be smooth, you could tell, and most people wouldn’t have noticed something so slight...but you were an assassin working your way through a couple life sentences, and you weren’t most people.

It all only lasted a moment before the cocky grin was back. “So, after this, you wanna come back to my cell, maybe we could, you know...” he waggled his eyebrows at you, making a hip thrusting motion you almost couldn’t believe a grown criminal was making.

“Maybe focus on not dying first, slim.” You patted his chest before turning towards Boomer, leaving blondie to stare after you—or more precisely, your ass—with a dramatic, longing look.

Your friend was regarding you with an amused expression. “Flirtin’ on the job? Didn’t think you had it in ya.”

“Shut up.” You punched his arm a little too hard and he winced. “Who is that guy, anyway?”

“Dick,” Boomer said, rubbing his arm.

“Don’t call me a dick—“

“No, dumbass, that’s his name. Richard Hertz.”

“...very funny, Boomer, but there’s no fucking way his parents named their kid Dick Hertz.”

Boomer shrugged. “Believe me or don’t, I don’t care. Either way, it’s the truth.”

You scoffed and stole a glance over at your new admirer. He was tall and pretty well built, platinum blond hair short, lips pulled back in a grin that showed off straight white teeth. He was dressed in all black, two guns holstered to his chest, and as he messed with a Belle Reve guard by pretending to reach for one, he looked like an overgrown child who should not have been allowed to hold onto firearms.

“Please tell me he’s got a cooler name,” you groaned.

“Why? So you can scream it at night?” Boomer cackled. “He goes by Blackguard. He’s pretty strong from what I hear. Prolly pretty fun in bed, too.”

You wrinkled your nose and rounded on Boomer. “Shut up.”

“You like him.” Your friend grinned. “Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me. Just remember to name your kid after good ol’ Uncle Boomer.”

You gave him a rough shove and he stumbled back a few steps, laughing like a madman the entire time.

“Hey!” One of the guards barked at you.

Rather than pushing your luck with your armed babysitters, you huffed and crossed your arms over your chest. More cars were pulling up, dropping off the rest of your comrades, and while Boomer was distracted with them, you stole another glance at Dick.

He was still messing with the same guard, and was receiving some harsh warning glares in the process. Was he a complete idiot, or was he so cocky because he could actually handle it? He had to have ended up in Belle Reve for a reason. It wasn’t the type of place you went to for innocent misdemeanors. And if he was chosen for a Suicide Squad mission, that meant that his sentence was long enough to warrant risking his life to lessen it...and it also meant that he was useful.

When he winked at you, you realized with a start that he had totally noticed the way you were checking him out.

Fuck.

“Time to load up!” A voice yelled, saving you from any further embarrassment.

A few minutes later, you were strapping yourself into your seat on the chopper, pretending not to notice as Dick struggled with his seatbelt across from you. The guy sitting next to him had to help, and when you finally couldn’t help yourself, you let out a quiet laugh from behind your mask.

Dick’s head shot up to look at you, that cocky grin plastered to his face again.

“Wish you were over here helpin’ me,” he said bravely. “Rather have your hands down by my—“

“Dick.” Colonel Flag warned as he stood above you all with his gun in his hands.

Boomer let out a loud laugh at the unintentionally dirty euphemism and you snorted.

“What? Just makin’ some conversation,” Blackguard said, leaning towards you with a wolfish glint in his eyes. “You don’t mind, do ya, Princess?”

Your cheeks were heating up behind your mask, and he could see the way your eyes crinkled slightly with your smile.

God, he wished he could see your smile again.

“Hey guys, sorry I’m late!” A familiar voice said. “Had to go number two.”

“...Good to know.” Flag sighed as none other than Harley Quinn herself hopped in.

“Harley!” You called, reaching for her with grabby hands as she looked for her seat.

“Hey there, baby!” The pale blonde woman greeted, slamming her equipment bag into Savant’s head. “Hey, Boomer!”

“What’re you doin’ back in prison, Harls?” Boomer asked, hanging onto the nylon mesh cage behind him as he stretched his arms out.

“Got road rage. In a bank.” She finally found a spot between you and Javelin, and as Flag checked everyone over, the chopper took off into the air.

The lighting was dim and red, the thrumming of the helicopter blades blending in with the white noise of the pressurized cabin. Save for that, it was quiet for a while, everybody either sizing each other up, or, in Dick’s case, imagining how you looked under your suit.

“So, uh...how much longer you in for?” He asked you.

You raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

“Because I don’t exactly think I should be talkin’ about sneakin’ into your cell while Flag is here to rat me out about it,” Dick grinned.

You caught the colonel rolling his eyes.

“Hey, that never stopped anybody,” Harley said brightly.

“Boutta be in a whole big ass jungle,” Boomer elbowed you in the side. “Plentya room in there to be alone.”

You groaned as Dick gave you a sly grin.

“Y’know, this mission’ll be over in no time.” He said, stretching his arms out behind his head. “I’ve got some wicked ass powers. I got this.”

“Oh yeah?” You asked, recognizing the way he was trying to peacock and impress you. “Not worried about anything?”

“Baby, I’ll carry this whole team. Just you watch.”

“I’m looking forward to it, Dick.” You bit his name out as more of an insult, but he didn’t seem to care, giving you another wink.

He obviously thought that his flirting and posturing was working...but you were pretty sure he was just annoying. Cute, but annoying. Maybe good for a hook up here or there...but that was about it.

“We’re in a butcher’s freezer, Harls!” Boomer called from the other end of the bench. “Surrounded by dead hogs hangin’ on hooks. Only they don’t know it yet.”

“Leave ‘em alone, Boomer!” She called back with a laugh.

You chuckled at your friends, leaning your head back as you settled in for the flight. Harley was complimenting Javelin’s accent, you still didn’t know what TDK stood for, and Boomer was just starting to mess with him about the fact that all names were made of letters when the freaky weasel-thing next to Dick stole everyone’s attention.

It was one of the strangest creatures you had ever seen. Human height, covered in mangy brown fur, with big bulging eyes and a mouth full of sharp little teeth all made it both fascinating and concerning to look at, and as it made a few disgustingly wet retching sounds, Dick nodded towards it.

“Yo, is this a dog?” He asked.

“...What?” You asked in disbelief. He had to be fucking with you, right? There was no way he meant it.

“Is this thing a dog?” He repeated.

“A...a dog?”

“Yes.”

“What...what kinda dog do you think it is, mate?” Boomer asked.

“I dunno, I’m not familiar with all the breeds.” Dick gave him an incredulous look.

“I’m gonna go with Afghan hound.” TDK said.

“Since when does an afghan hound have bloody thumbs?”

“Oh my god, is it a werewolf?” Harley asked excitedly. “I’ve wanted to meet a werewolf for ever!”

Dick was already up and struggling against his restraints. “Yo, they sat me next to a werewolf?!”

“That’s not right,” TDK agreed as his neighbor slammed into him in his desperate attempt at an escape.

Boomer was laughing loudly, and you couldn’t help but join in. “You’re seriously scared of werewolves?”

Dick glanced up at you as he tried to unbuckle his seatbelt. “Yes, I fuckin’ am! So fuckin’—get me out! I do not fuck with werewolves, there is no fuckin’ way—“

“Maybe you should hop onto your new girlfriend’s lap!” Boomer cackled, jabbing a finger towards you.

“Poor baby,” you cooed, and as you saw the look in Blackguard’s eyes, you were pretty convinced that he was about to try to tear his way out so that he actually could.

“Hey, hey, he’s not a werewolf!” Flag yelled over the commotion. “He’s a weasel, he’s harmless! I mean, he’s not harmless, he’s killed 27 children, but I—I think we got him to—I think he’s agreed to this, so relax.”

“Thought you were super tough?” You asked as Dick calmed down and caught his breath. “Gonna carry the whole team?”

Rather than the snarky flirtation you expected, he actually looked a bit defeated. When you raised an eyebrow, though, he took the prompt, and the most desperate backtracking you had ever seen began.

“Yeah, well...” he scoffed, trying to give you a cool look. “Caught me off guard, that’s all. No big deal.”

“Off guard? Isn’t guard, like, in your name?” You teased, your smile genuine behind your mask. Alright...he was winning you over now. He was an idiot, but...maybe he was a lovable one.

He faltered for a second. “I-I mean, yeah, well...”

Flag was shaking his head. “Get into position to drop!”

Everyone unbuckled themselves and collected their things, lining up to jump into the ocean off the coast of Corto Maltese. When you saw that Dick was back to struggling with it, again, you smiled to yourself and leaned down in front of him.

“For what it’s worth...” you said as you pulled up on the metal tab, your hand dangerously close to his crotch, “I wouldn’t mind shacking up somewhere in the jungle with you.”

He stated at you with wide eyes, disbelief written all over his face. He really was cuter when he wasn’t putting on such a dumb, cocky facade, and he jumped up as quickly as he could to follow you.

You just laughed as you straightened up and walked away, Blackguard right on your heels. As the door opened and the big, dark ocean came into view below you, you felt a hand brushing against your hip and a firm chest press up against your back. You realized you could have stayed right there forever, patiently waiting to see how far he was brave enough to go...but you were both members of the Suicide Squad, and you had a job to do.

“I’ll see you down there, Dick,” you said, turning your head slightly to glance at him.

“See you on the other side, baby,” he grinned.

[eliemo]

Something Long and Stupid

Summary: Remus knew he wasn't a good person. He was Deadpool, a killer for hire, "the merc with a mouth." He'd come to terms with what he was a long time ago. He didn't need Spiderman to remind him of what he was.

He didn't need Virgil to come into his life and make him question it for the first time

TWs: Violence, threats, strong language, blood

Notes: Superhero au, Spiderman Virgil, Deadpool Remus, enemies to lovers Dukexiety

New project that nobody asked for. I know I should finish my ongoing wips before starting a new one but I do not control the hyperfixation.

(Part 1) (Part 2)

When Virgil kicked Remus in the chest and sent him hurtling off the building into an active construction site, Remus found himself thinking about how they’d met.

Honestly, it hadn’t started off much better. Spiderman was a piece of shit who thought he was so much better than Remus just because Deadpool killed some people every now and then.

Well, that had been the first impression anyway. They hadn’t exactly started off on the right foot.

Remus had been doing his job, thank you very much, he was a mercenary for hire, it wasn’t like he’d been going after a gang of strangers for fun. And he certainly hadn’t needed help.

There were three of them and one of him, just some standard thugs that had been causing a bit too much trouble for people with more money to spend, their names already set to pay for Remus’s rent this month.

He’d unsheathed his swords, (guns would make it over too quickly, and what was the fun in that?) letting the assholes get their hopes up by grabbing for their own weapons and then—

Then all his targets were all suddenly covered in webs, firmly plastered to the nearest wall with threats and screaming that Remus ignored in favor of whirling around, slicing the air with his blades.

“Hey, what the fuck?”

Spiderman was half hanging off the wall, stepping back down onto the ground when he saw Remus staring. “You’re welcome,” he called, like Remus had asked for him to come in ruin is fun.

Remus scoffed, because rude. You don’t just steal someone’s kill like that. But at least they were immobilized now, which meant shooting them and getting the day over with would be a piece of cake. The webs weren’t budging no matter how frantically they kicked.

He yanked his gun from his belt to do exactly that, only to have another web (seriously, fucking spider webs had no business being this strong) wrapped around his wrist, another pulling the pistol right out of his hand.

“Uh, motherfucker?” Remus took a step back, furiously grabbing at the lingering webs with his bare hands, grimacing at the way it clung to his leather. “Jeez, you want me to decapitate them instead?”

“They’re already down,” the asshole said, like Remus hadn’t noticed. “Back off, Deadpool.”

Remus didn’t have time to be surprised that Spiderman knew who he was, far too busy wanting to run over and punch him right in his stupid masked face. “Ok, clearly you don’t know my deal. Move it, Webs.”

“Then you don’t know mine,” he said, masked eye staring blankly from underneath the hood over his suit. “I’m not letting you murder defenseless people.”

“They’re not fucking defenseless.”

“They’re not breaking free,” the spider said. “The cops will take whoever I capture for them. Call them and leave.”

Remus scoffed and tightened his hold on his sword, wondering if he really wanted to get into a fight with Spiderman in the middle of the afternoon. It was only fucking Tuesday, he was too tired to deal with this shit. “And they can take them in body bags. Give me my gun back.”

Remus was a good foot taller than him, and loaded with about three times as many weapons, but the masked asshole didn’t seem bothered in the slightest. God, he was probably smirking under his suit.

“I finished the fight, I get to decide.” He turned around, his back to Remus like he didn’t even care. “Maybe try to be faster next time.”

“Oh, fuck right off with that,” Remus snarled. “Fuck off. Fuck off and suck a fat dick, you fucking—”

“Either you walk away, or I leave you tied to the wall.”

“Kinky,” Remus smirked, even if Spiderman couldn’t see it under his own mask. “But fat fucking luck. No way in hell am I letting some bitch in black and purple spanx steal my kill.”

Spiderman actually had the audacity to sigh, like he was dealing with a petulant child. “Nobody’s getting killed.”

“You know, I’ve got more than one gun,” Remus said, mentally calculating how fast he’d have to move to shoot every single person in this alleyway. “I’m playing nice. Get out of my way.”

“You’re not shooting someone who can’t fight back.”

“Oh, are you the moral police?” Jesus, Remus wanted to punch this guy. “Man, fuck off. It’s none of your business.”

He grabbed for his other gun, only to immediately feel something wrap around his waist and legs, yanking hard and lifting him into the air. He shouted something he really hoped no pedestrians were close by enough to overhear, doing his absolute best to give Spiderman his coldest glare as he was slammed against the brick wall, upside down, held firmly down by fucking spider webs.

“Oh, you bitch.”

Remus twisted and thrashed, and while he could feel the webs giving way already it would be a good few minutes until he was free. That fucking asshole.

“Next time I see you I’m cutting off your spider ass and hanging it on my fucking wall!”

Spiderman ignored him, and Remus watched as he grabbed the thugs Remus was supposed to kill and one by one swung them out of the alleyway before disappearing completely.

That whore.

It hadn’t been long, unfortunately, until they’d met again, and Remus had of course tried to punch the asshole right in the head.

They’d ended up on the same rooftop, which was even worse because Remus came up here to relax. Spiderman had just been sitting there, legs dangling over the edge as he watched over the city, looking almost peaceful with his hood down and the sun beating against his mask.

So Remus had immediately vaulted over and swung at him as hard as he possibly could.

And then he’d missed, because of course Spidey had to have fucking inhuman reflexes, which was bullshit. He’d ducked away and managed to jump to Remus’s side before Remus even registered that his fist had met nothing but air.

“Can you leave?” Spiderman asked, so unbothered it only made Remus angrier. “I’m busy.”

“Doing what?”

“Making sure people don’t get killed,” he said, moving back towards the ledge. “You should try it sometime.”

Remus crossed his arms, watching the vigilante in disbelief. “You get that I’m a mercenary, right? You’re surprised by the killing thing?”

“I’m not,” he said, and he still wouldn’t even look at Remus. “But I’m stopping it when I can.”

“Oh? So you’re ruining a small business?” Remus threw his arms out and turned towards the ledge overlooking the bustling city. “Spiderman doesn’t support small businesses, you heard it here first, folks!”

Spidey was staring at him now, and Remus had a sneaking suspicion he would not appreciate the look he was being given if the mask was taken off. Asshole.

“I don’t support killing people, Deadpool.”

“Sucks,” Remus said. “You should’ve stayed out of the way. If I wasn’t so kind and generous I would have shot you.”

“You mean if you hadn’t been tied up and defenseless,” Spiderman corrected, and Remus was right back to wanting to punch him. “You’re lucky I didn’t get you arrested.”

Remus dramatically put a hand to his chest and gasped, walking along the roof’s edge. “Oh no. What ever would I have done? I’d be defeated! My one weakness. C ops.”

Spidey didn’t respond, but he did get up and move away when Remus got a bit too close to where he was perched on the ledge. Ha .

“Maybe I should have called the cops on you, Spidey,” Remus added. “They’d finally catch the masked menace. Some jail time might humble you.”

“I’d be fine,” Spiderman said. “I wasn’t the one tied to a wall.”

Remus hopped back onto the roof with a growl, grimacing at the reminder of how long it had taken to get those webs off his suit. “Yeah, don’t do that shit again. Seriously, I can and will end you.”

“Get in line behind half the city, Deadpool.”

Remus scoffed, something he apparently did a lot of whenever talking to Spiderman, and followed him across the rooftop. “Man, your ratings are shit. At least I don't act like a hero.”

It was hard to see, barely noticeable, but Remus saw Spidey’s shoulders tense, just a bit. Apparently he’d struck a nerve. Good.

“I don’t act like anything,” he said, and it was just a little less cocky than before. “I’m just trying to help people.”

“Oh, so you’re playing hero.” Remus grinned, moving until he was crouched right in front of the vigilante. “Ooh ooh, let me guess...you’re in college. You’re ...22. Maybe 23, or 24. You got these big bad powers one day and figured you were the only one in the whole wide world who could protect the people who couldn’t protect themselves.”

Spidey didn’t answer, just looked at him with that blank, unamused stare, so Remus continued. “Or were you born with them? Doesn’t seem like it, you’ve only popped up in the last two or three years—”

“It’s none of your business,” Spiderman cut in, and Remus smirked. “And you’re wrong, for the record.”

“Oh I am, am I?” Remus asked, amused despite himself. “If nobody wants you, why are you even trying?”

Spidey was tense now, and doing a real bad job of hiding it. “Maybe I don’t give a shit what people think.”

“Right.” Remus didn’t need to see the guy’s face to know that wasn’t it. “You do realize how much money you could make with those powers, right?”

“I don’t care,” he said. “I’m fine doing what I’m doing.”

Remus looked him over, he’d seen spidey all over newspapers and on TV before, but this was the first time actually talking to him in person, besides the other day when the asshole had ruined his afternoon. Honestly, it was kinda underwhelming. He expected the suit to be higher tech, at least.

“Are you broke?” he asked. “You seem broke. I could make you a way better mask, by the way. It looks like shit.”

“I’m sure,” Spidey said, completely ignoring his generous offer. Rude. “And how much do you get paid for killing people?”

“A lot.”

Spiderman hummed nonchalantly, no longer looking at Remus. “Well, I’m glad it’s worth it.”

“It is! I sleep like a baby in my king sized bed.” And yeah, that was a little bit of a lie. Barely.. He wasn’t living that luxuriously, New York was expensive as shit, but based on his tech he was way better off than Webs.

“That’s wonderful,” Spiderman said and damn, apparently the masked menace was capable of being a sarcastic bastard as well as a cocky asshole. “You done pretending now? Can I go?”

“I’m not pretending anything.”

“Yeah, ok.” Spiderman was back to sounding arrogant, and Remus couldn’t remember why they were talking instead of fighting to the death. “I know you sleep like shit.”

Remus actually laughed, humorless and cold, because what the fuck?

“Oh yeah?”

“Nobody kills for a living if their life is going great,” Spidey said. “What horrible trauma pushed you to that decision?”

Oh, this motherfucker. This piece of shit. He was so dead when Remus could catch him off guard.

“Nobody puts on a costume and fights crime when half the city wants him dead if his life is going great, either.” Remus smirked, moving to try to get Spidey to look at him again. “At least I get money for it. No student loan debt at 26 is pretty nice.”

He probably shouldn’t have given the vigilante that was quickly turning into his sworn enemy his age but eh. What was he gonna do, kill him? Remus didn’t stay dead.

“That’s great,” Spiderman said. “And all it cost was people’s lives.”

“Yep!” Remus hoped it came out cheery enough to piss him off a little more. “Think of it this way, Spidey. They’re gonna die anyway.”

Spiderman immediately straightened up and stalked to the other end of the rooftop, clearly wanting the conversation to end. Mission accomplished. “Jesus Christ.”

“It’s true!” he called, just to drive home the fuck off a bit more. “Someone would have gotten to them eventually.”

“They’re still people, Deadpool.”

Remus shrugged. “Good people don't get hits put on them.”

“Maybe not,” the vigilante agreed. “But good people don’t murder in exchange for money, either.”

Remus barked another laugh at that, more genuine this time because... yeah? Duh. “No shit. I never fucking said I was a good person.”

“You’re lucky you haven't killed anyone innocent yet.” And goddammit there was that ‘hero’ shit again that made Remus want to throw up. He’d just been starting to have fun, too.

“It’s still not your business.”

“It will be,” Spidey said, perched on the ledge in a way that would make Remus dizzy if he cared. “Stick to killing criminals and we'll be fine.”

“Oh?” Remus followed, smirking in a way that would probably get him punched if he took off his mask. “Are you gonna come get me if I’m not good?”

“That’s my job.”

“Aw, don’t worry,” Remus teased. “I’ll wear something sexy for you.”

“Gross.”

“Love you too, Spider Babe!”

Spidey scoffed, responding with a gloved middle finger when Remus winked. Remus watched a web shoot from his wrist, and suddenly Spiderman was gone, swinging across New York rooftops, leaving Remus to try to figure out how he was getting down.

Remus honestly hadn’t expected to see him again. He was fucked in the head, but he didn’t have any plans to lose control and start killing everyone in sight. He was an asshole, but he wasn’t a villain Spiderman needed to spend time tracking down. New York was busy enough for both of them already.

He did plan on chucking the nearest heavy object at him if he ever saw Spidey swinging past. That never ended up happening. Not that he cared. He didn’t miss him.

He expected to catch a glimpse of him eventually, maybe close enough to yell a few lighthearted threats or call him names, but nothing as entertaining as the argument on the roof.

What he hadn’t expected, was to run right into the masked menace while walking home in the middle of the night.

Remus had just finished a job, something standard and quick, and after wiping the blood from his blades he’d decided to take the long way home. The sun had set, the night air was crisp and relaxing, and it helped Remus forget about the blood stains he needed to wash away.

He’d been cutting through sidestreets, mentally mapping out how to get back to his place. He turned a corner into an alleyway, and—

And there was Spiderman, hunched over himself and leaned against the wall like he’d been using it for support, shaking, gasping, and completely drenched in deep red blood.

Remus froze, and Spidey did too as soon as he registered Deadpool standing just a few paces away, the two of them staring silently for what felt like an eternity.

“Dude,” Remus said when he found his voice. “What the fuck happened to you?”

Spiderman was clutching at his chest, black and purple suit barely able to hide the red stains, leaned heavily against the brick wall as he watched Remus warily. “Nothing.”

“Don’t be stupid. Whose blood is that?”

“Doesn’t matter,” he snapped, and his voice was wavering. “Keep walking.”

Remus took a step forward, frowning at the way the vigilante went tense against the wall. He ignored it. “Whose blood is it?” It came out more of a command than a question this time.

“Mostly mine,” Spiderman said, and Remus could see it pooling around his gloves now that he was closer. “It’s fine.”

“Why’re you bleeding?”

“None of your business. Go home.”

Remus tried to get a better look from where he stood, well aware that approaching might not be the best idea right now. “Was it a gun or a knife?”

“It was none of your business and you need to go away.”

Remus watched him, incredulous, because the idiot was barely standing and losing way too much blood way too quickly, and he was pretty sure Spiderman didn’t have Remus’s whole immortality deal.

“You really want to bleed out on the street like some street thug?”

The vigilante hesitated, and Remus listened to the way his breathing was turning into awful sounding wheezes. “I’m...not going to bleed out. I’m fine.”

“Oh, yeah?” Remus challenged, probably a bit more aggressively than was needed for someone who looked like they were about to keel over. “Walk over to me then.”

He’d expected the lack of response, but even though the eyes built into the suit were practically lifeless (he really should get him some more advanced goggles. He’d be a lot more approachable if his eyes weren’t so blank) Remus could still see his whole body tense in fear.

“No,” he said, low and trembling. “Fuck off.”

“Spidey, this isn’t a joke.” Jesus, that was a lot of blood. “You’re gonna bleed out.”

“And you can throw a party—”

“Fucking come here.” He hadn’t meant to snap, but he wasn’t going to just stand here bickering with the city’s hero until he dropped dead. But Spidey still shook his head, pressed even further against the wall now, and Remus sighed. “Fine.”

Remus took a few steps forward, initially planning on prying his arms away to get a better look at the wound, but Spiderman flinched back, trying to scramble away like Remus was coming at him with a weapon.

Well, Remus supposed that made sense. He had threatened to kill him a couple times last time they spoke.

“Chill it, Spidey.” Remus crouched a bit, suddenly painfully aware of how much taller he was, carefully holding his hands out. “I’m not gonna hurt you.”

“I don’t believe you,” he shot back. Which...yeah, fair. “I know you want to.”

“Does it look like I have a knife in my hand?” Remus asked. “No. Chill out and let me see.”

Spidey didn’t pull away when Remus took his shoulders, but he did flinch as soon as Deadpool touched him, probably involuntarily. Remus ignored it, focusing instead on figuring out where the blood was coming from. It was almost impossible in the dark lighting, especially up against the black suit.

“It’s...not that bad,” Spiderman rasped. “Seriously.”

Remus wasn’t buying that for a second. “What happened?”

“I was stupid, that’s what happened,” Spidey said, arms still wrapped firmly around himself. “It...there were five of them and one of them got lucky with a knife.”

“Jesus, fuck.” Remus pulled back, trying to figure out what to do. “You are stupid. Where?”

He only hesitated a moment. “Uh, my chest. I heal fast.”

“Jesus. How fast?”

Spiderman shrugged, then obviously regretted it when it pulled at the stab wound. “Hopefully fast enough,” he said. “I’ll be fine tomorrow or I’ll be dead.”

“Jesus,” Remus said again, because what the fuck else was he supposed to say? “Sit down. Jesus Christ.”

Spidey thankfully did as he said, though Remus suspected it had more to do with the fact that he couldn’t keep himself standing anymore rather than actually following instructions.

He wasn’t fighting anymore, almost limp as Remus took his wrists and moved them to his sides, but he did look like he was ready to bolt the second Deadpool made one wrong move.

Like he wouldn’t fall right on his face and hurt himself worse if he tried.

Remus could see the source of the blood now, a deep gash across his upper chest that had apparently sliced the black and purple suit like butter, still gushing crimson with each passing second.

Shit.

“Alright, uh.” This wasn’t his expertise in the slightest. Other than digging out some bullets, Remus didn't have to tend to his wounds. “I don’t think I have any fabric or...oh, your hoodie. Hand it over.”

Spiderman stared, and if he didn’t hurry up and get with the program Remus was going to knock him out and handle this himself. “Why?”

“Because you’re bleeding out. Give it.”

Spidey at least had the sense to listen and carefully peel the hoodie away from his suit, sliding it down his arms even as his gloved hands shook violently. Remus couldn’t help but wince at the noise Spiderman tried to choke back, because that had to hurt like a bitch.

“Maybe, like...lay down?” Remus suggested. “Yeah, do that. It’ll help.”

Spidey still hesitated, even as the blood continued to flow and he started to slide down against his will. “I...need to see what you’re doing.”

Remus sighed, bunching up the hoodie and pressing it firmly against the wound, ignoring the strangled gasp that came from the vigilante. Blood was quickly soaking through the cloth, and Remus just pressed harder.

“I’m just putting pressure on it to stop the bleeding,” Remus said. “If I wanted to kill you I’d leave you here. If it stops bleeding you’ll heal, right?”

The only answer he got was another wet, trembling gasp when Remus pushed harder, Spiderman’s blood soaking into his gloves. It took a second for him to realize he was grasping at Remus’s wrists, his hold weak.

“H-hopefully,” Spidey managed, and he really didn’t sound great. His eyes were drooping, and Remus figured the biggest danger right now was letting him fall asleep. “Or, you know. I’ll die.”

“You’re not gonna die,” Remus said without thinking. “I’m gonna stop the bleeding, you’re gonna heal with whatever weird powers you have, and then you’ll be less of a careless idiot next time.”

A few moments passed without an answer, and for once Remus wasn’t entirely sure how to fill the silence. The only sound between them was Spiderman’s labored, ragged breathing, which at least sounded a bit less shaky and faint as Remus continued to press down.

“What are you doing?” Spidey asked eventually, catching Remus completely off guard with the stupid question. “Why are you...trying to help?”

Remus wasn’t trying to do anything. He was helping. The city’s beloved hero would have been dead five minutes ago if he hadn’t managed to interrupt Remus’s perfectly nice, peaceful walk.

He hadn’t even really thought about it. Remus was an asshole, a murderer for a living, but he wasn’t stupid. He wasn’t the guy who was going to leave New York’s savior to bleed out in an alleyway.

Besides, he’d been the first person Remus had been able to have a somewhat entertaining conversation with in months.

“Somebody’s gotta save everyone,” he eventually settled on, still pressing hard against the wound. “And I refuse to be the city’s only mouthy vigilante.”

Another beat of silence, and for a moment Remus thought he might have fallen asleep. “I don’t...save anyone. And I’m not mouthy.”

“You do,” Remus argued. “And you are.”

“I don’t,” he snapped, and at least he didn’t seem inclined to argue about the mouthy thing. “You do your job better than I do.”

Remus took a moment to look over the bleeding hero. He was weak and trembling, and probably dangerously pale and clammy under that suit. The blood flow had definitely slowed, but it hadn't stopped. There was a good chance he wouldn’t remember a damn thing Remus said to him tonight.

And if he did, it’s not like he really gave a shit, anyway.

“I’m a mercenary,” Remus said. “Anyone can kill someone. It takes something a lot stronger to save them. So shut up and stop being self deprecating.”

Spiderman shuddered when Remus carefully peeled back the bloody hoodie, leaning in to get a better look at where they were at. Either he was just that good at fixing stab wounds, or Spidey’s healing powers were gradually starting to kick in.

Remus decided to go with the former. He deserved it.

“I got someone killed tonight,” Spidey said, quiet and unbearably sad. “She...she died because I wasn’t fast enough, and I didn’t—”

“You can’t save everyone.”

The vigilante pulled his hands away from Remus’s wrists, like he’d just realized he was holding them. “I should have tried harder.”

Remus sighed. “You tried hard enough. You did fine.”

That was apparently the end of the conversation, Spiderman falling back into silence as Remus went back to making sure he didn’t start bleeding all over the place again. He didn’t have anything on him to properly clean it up, he wasn’t sure he even owned a first-aid kit, but Spidey’s breathing was starting to even out, and after about ten minutes or so the blood stopped flowing completely.

“You, uh...you good?”

“I’ll be fine,” Spiderman said, and it didn’t sound like a desperate lie this time. He still looked like shit, but he was able to slowly sit up on his own. “Not dying this time. Just...still hurts.”

They were plunged back into silence, slightly less tense than before but no less uncomfortable. Remus eventually relinquished his hold on the hoodie when Spidey was able to carefully take it from him.

Right, he was fine now. Remus didn’t need to stay, it wasn’t his business anymore. It hadn’t been his business to begin with.

“I...owe you,” Spiderman said, almost like it was strange for him to admit. “So, thank y—”

“Don’t thank me, Spidey.” God, this had been a mistake, hadn’t it? “Seriously. Just buy me a pizza sometime and we’ll call it square.”

Spiderman stared for second, unsteady hands holding his own hood to his chest, but the small laugh that escaped at least sounded genuine, and no longer quite so pained.

“Ok,” he said. “Yeah, I can do that.”

Remus hesitated before standing, not really sure if it would be more rude to leave or stay at this point. Spiderman probably didn’t want a mercenary for hire standing over him while he was wounded, whether Remus had saved his life or not.

Remus was still just as far from a hero as the villains Spiderman fought, and both of them had a reputation to keep.

“You sure you’re ok?” Remus asked. “I can like...stay. Or call you an ambulance or...something.”

“I’m good,” Spidey said, sitting up with a small hiss of pain until he was propped up against the wall, breathing still heavy. “You stopped the bleeding, I’ll live. You can go home, Deadpool.”

“Right.” He carefully stepped around the vigilante, still keeping a close eye on his chest to make sure the bleeding didn’t start again. “Just don’t die after all my hard work. My gloves are fucking soaked.”

Spiderman scoffed, but it was more good natured and light than it had been the last time they talked. “You got it.”

Remus kept walking down the alley, only turning around once more before turning the corner at the end. “And don’t forget my pizza, Spidey!”

[mrsmaybank]

Apocalypse - Matthew Gray Gubler x Reader

“You’re finally taking Cinema and Literature.” I felt him smile against the skin of my shoulder. He said it so casually. As if my underwear weren’t on his floor and the room didn’t reek of last night’s sex and Absolut. 

CONTENT WARNINGS: Semi-Graphic Descriptions of Sex, Alcohol, Language, Implications of fighting/angst, toxic relationship

A/N:  You can’t tell me that little collage isn’t exactly what it would be like to date college Matthew. He was the embodiment of NYU Film Major. Looked fucking hot doing it too. Cigs After Sex is the soundtrack to your relationship, by the way. Listen to Apocalypse here.

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

NYU TISCH SCHOOL OF THE ARTS 

9:05 AM - Saturday, August 26, 2000 Sophomore Year 

 It was early Saturday morning. I was naked and petrified. Bare back faced to Matthew Gray Gubler. I didn’t know if he was awake, and if he was what the hell would I say. I hoped as soon as he realized the naked girl in his bed was me he’d kick me out. Save me the shameful, deer in headlights bra collecting exit.  I prayed he would tell me to leave so I just....would. I heard pillows and sheets rustle, and I just hoped he just did what was best for the both of us. 

Tell me to leave Matthew. 

Like always though, we were absolutely not on the same page. 

“So..” His big hand slid over my hip from behind me, his palm gently forcing me back onto him, “You’re finally taking Cinema and Literature.” I felt him smile against the skin of my shoulder. He said it so casually. As if my underwear weren’t on his floor and the room didn’t reek of last night’s sex and Absolut. 

“Yeah.” I answered. His short finger nails dug into his hips as his chest met my back. Neck craning over me. I shuddered and he noticed. 

“You like it right?” It was a painfully obvious double entendre and I couldn’t figure out either of the answers. The Cinema and Literature professors unconventional teaching methods were a circulating debate at NYU, but fucking my ex AND staying the night the first weekend back on campus was indisputably wrong. Problem was I really enjoyed both. 

Wet lips began to pepper equally wet kisses on my neck. My ability to move or speak was stripped. It was embarrassing really; I couldn’t focus or function when he touched me. Matthew liked that. A lot. Somethings never change. 

“Your opinion on Scorsese?” His hands traveled through sheets and onto the bare skin of my chest. I sucked in a deep breath and looked him in the eye for the first time since last night. He had a cocky, stupid hot smile on his face. His hands slipped under me and I knew I was gone so I looked away. I didn’t want to see what he was thinking. This was so incredibly self destructive. We were swiftly undoing all the slow healing we’d both already done. 

My brain spun all its gears at once to get out an answer while his hands practically methodically massaged my boobs. The feeling was the best kind of familiar. “You value my opinion?” 

A hand made it’s way to my face, pulling it to his so that we could look at each other again. “Always did.” His voice was soft with sincerity that affected me more then I would’ve liked it to. 

God, why? Why did things end the way they did? Why did....Why was.... Just why? There were so many whys, way too many fucking whys. Just tell me why, Matthew, please. 

Then he kissed me, and it felt like time didn’t exist anymore. 

Your lips, my lips 

Apocalypse

Time was like that for awhile, non-existent. The only thing that existed and mattered were the lips attached to mine and the torturously clever hand in between my legs. He stroked me with such tender care and affinity, I almost forgot we’d exchanged “Fuck you” more times then “I love you”. My breath got heavier and my moans got louder. I’d always meant the “I love you” more then the “Fuck you”. 

“Come on pretty girl, come for me.” The strokes and rubs of my clit and insides got more intense as his mouth nibbled at my earlobe, “I know you missed it.”

“S-shit!” And like that, I let go. I gave him what we both wanted too badly for our own good. 

He got up first. I tried not to look as he dressed himself, but I couldn’t help it. He manipulated all of my senses, vision included. My eyes couldn’t leave him and he smiled when he noticed my shy stare. 

“I was surprised when you said Hi last night.” He said, absent mindedly zipping his fly. 

“It would’ve been weird if I didn’t.” I responded, forcing myself to say it plainly. 

“Not really, all things considered.” He rummaged through still unpacked boxes, “You need a shirt?” It was cheeky and unappreciated, but I still took the offer. 

It was brown and striped, a personal favorite back in the days of cuddlefucking and PDAs in front of all of our friends. This boy was too clever. He tossed it to me before putting on his own and laying back down. I shimmied the shirt on. It smelled like his detergent and the butterflies in my stomach were having a field day. 

“I uh--I annotated the first lecture if you want it.” The sentence coming from him was uncharacteristically low pitched. He’d run out of things he could say without one or both of us choking up. 

“S-sure.” I nodded, “That’d be help-” 

There was a pounding on the door, and instantly in my chest. 

“C’mon Gube! It’s first Saturday back! We got Bloody Mary’s and chicken wings calling our mothafuckin’ names!” It was Danny. Matthew’s best friend, my dormmates friend, all of my friend’s friend, and obviously, MY friend. It was the worst possible person to be knocking on the door right now.

“Gubler, you bitch!” He laughed, “I know you’re in there man.” 

I was silent as a mouse. We could play this off. He’ll leave eventually. 

“Well motherfucker, I’m coming in! Rick gave me his key. Hide your dick if you’re jacking it!” 

Fuckin’ Rick. His dormmate. Didn’t know much about him other then he had good weed and definitely was not here last night. 

I was frozen in fear and Matthew’s hands wiped his face and then didn’t leave. They were trying to hide a smile. I was absolutely horrified and he was slightly amused. One word. Typical. 

“Holy. Fucking. Shit.” Danny’s jaw had swung open when he entered the room and saw what was happening. 

His best friend and the ex-girlfriend he’d probably, no definitely, proclaimed extreme hatred for were sharing a bed and clothes on a Saturday morning. 

“So like.... is it exactly what it looks like?” Danny tried and failed miserably to stifle his laugh when he saw my face. 

“Shut your fucking mouth and get out.” I practically screamed. Thankfully, he listened. 

I was seething. At myself, at Matthew and at fucking Danny for being such a goddamn jackass. 

“Hey..” Matthew rushed to calm me down but I hissed at him before he could touch me. 

I launched myself out of bed and scrambled to get my things. “Phone, keys, wallet...what am I missing?” I muttered to my stupid, hungover, fucking mentally exhausted brain. I was answered with shimmery fabric peeking from behind a sheet. “Dress.” 

“Here.” Matthew threw me some basketball shorts. I didn’t thank him. 

Without a word, I was out the door. Fuck. 

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

The walk back to my dorm was pitiful. I scurried down the halls with dress and heels in hand, in clothes that were so evidently not mine, receiving mixed looks I didn’t have the brain capacity to decipher. I just wanted to cry.

I laid down in my freshly unpacked dorm, and there were two very distinct scents. My dorm mate Lo’s soy linen candles and my regret. 

This kind of regret was laced with confusion and animosity and anger, and as much as I wanted to ignore it, there was a growing feeling of longing. Longing for Matthew and the way those skinny ass arms felt wrapped around my waist. 

I couldn’t think about it for too long though, because Lo and her girlfriend, Jen were now in the doorway. Donuts and coffee in hand. God didn’t hate me so much after all.

“Give me one, right now.” I snatched a chocolate glaze from the box. 

“You good?” Lo laughed and Jen gave me a look. 

Shoving the donut into my face, I figured the best way to do this was bluntly. Danny was going to tell them within the hour anyway. Swallowing, I started rambling immediately. “I fucked Gubler last night.” I took another bite and kept talking with my mouth full, “Woke up and--Shit.” Sprinkles were falling everywhere. “He fucked me again.” I opened my eyes wide, “With his fingers.” I sighed, “They’re so long and--” 

“Do NOT finish that sentence.” Lo interrupted. “Girl, why?” 

“You think I fucking know why?” I threw myself back on my bed. “I barely remember what happened last night. All I know is where I woke up.” 

“You’re fucked kiddo,” Jen said patting my head. “You get your bag, babe?” she asked Lo. 

“Yeah,” Lo came out the closet and gave me a kiss on the forehead, “Sleep well my child.” 

They were gone and so was my ability to not let tears stream down my face.  There was a light knock on my door. If it was Matthew I think I would scream. 

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

Thank you for reading. 

[lahelasaveiro]

Tainted part 2.

Pairing: Tatum Mendoza x F!MC Amelia ‘’Amy’’ Monroe

Words: 1.9k

Summary: Part 2 of Tainted! 

A/N: So sorry it took me so long to write part 2! I’m still adjusting to living in one house with my boyfriends parents and as my boyfriend had a week off I focused on that. Also my motivation to write since Tainted was on an incredibly low. I’m not very convinced about this part, but I did my best to get some closure. Anyways, I hope you guys like it! 

Tatum looked out of the window of his car. DeMarco is behind the wheel but he has been silent ever since their plane landed in Rutherland. The familiar trees and roads welcomed him back to his parental house and his heart sank in his chest. He had to explain his father that he would no longer be with Amy anymore. He cursed at himself and regretted the happy phone call to his father after he and Amy got official. How would he explain his cowardice? He just let her go, as if she meant nothing. His pulse quickened in response. Of course she meant the world to him, she always did. His body tensed when the car stopped at a cottage with a garden full of colourful flowers.

DeMarco awkwardly coughed and looked at Tatum, which seemed like the first contact they had ever since he was escorted back by his own friend. ‘’Listen.. Tatum. I know things are weird right now, but they will get better’’ Tatum snorted while he opened the door and gave DeMarco a hard stare. ‘’Sure. As long as I stay away from her, right?’’ He wanted to get away. Away from the car, from DeMarco. Away from Rutherland. But not from Amy, never her. ‘’I- I really am sorry. You know I wanted to see you both happy’’ Tatum closed his eyes and counted to ten. It used to work when he was younger, to recollect himself and not to lash out to people who wanted to help him. ‘’No, I’m sorry. I know you are only following orders’’ DeMarco seemed relieved at his apology and nodded with a smile. ‘’I don’t know how I would have reacted in your place, Tatum’’ He opened the car boot so that Tatum could get his duffel bag out. The two friends gave each other a goodbye hug just as Tatum’s dad came running out of the door.

‘’Where is my amazing new daughter-in-law?’’ The older man wobbled towards them with his older sister running after him. Tatum’s  voice got caught in his throat and his dad stopped dead in his tracks when he saw his sons facial expression. DeMarco gave Tatum one last look before he stepped in the car and drove off. His father slowly walked over to him and took his son in his arms. For the first time Tatum relaxed and even felt some tears flowing over his cheek. ‘’I let her go, dad’’ His voice broke and he felt his father’s hand hovering over his shoulders and back. ‘’Oh Tate. I don’t know what to say’’ He got out of the embrace and faced his dad. ‘’It was her, wasn’t it? Melissa’’ Tatum couldn’t do anything but nod. His aunt came over and laid a hand on his shoulder. ‘’Come on. Let’s go inside and get some refreshments’’ Her voice was calming but commanding, just as she always was. It made him feel like home when he sat on the familiar couch. He couldn’t help but wonder how it would be with Amy next to him, being introduced as his girlfriend. His father and aunt weren’t strangers to her, but she still would feel a few nerves. Because in that moment she would truly be family. She would be the one he would spend his life with, who his father already see as a daughter. His aunt would make sure she eats enough, and then a little bit more. His father wouldn’t stop smiling, because after years of asking Tatum to stop walking away from his feelings, he finally got together with her.

And yet, there he was. In his old living room, without her. In the same room they would spend so many time together back in the day. In the same room he first realised his feelings for her when he was 14. She would spill some sauce from her sandwich on her new dress and stress about how Melissa would kill her, all while her mouth was covered in the same sauce. He smiled and realised how beautiful she actually was. How her clumsiness seemed to fit his. How when she smiled, the entire room lit up. Thinking of those memories made him want to go the Presidential Manor and carry her to a place no one would ever find them. He would make her happy and she wouldn’t have to ask for anything for the rest of her life. Instead, they were apart once again. How much time did he waste in the army? Time he could have spent with her. His heart was breaking all over again thinking about all the missed chances.

‘’Tatum?’’ His fathers voice got him out of his trance and back to earth. ‘’Sorry, dad. What were you saying?’’ His aunt got him a glass of juice and stared at him with the same confusion as her brother. ‘’I don’t understand what happened. When you called… It made my heart so happy. I could hear the joy in your voice…’’ He didn’t dare to finish his sentence. Not while his son looked so forlorn. ‘’I was happy, dad. More than I ever thought I could be. For the first time in my life, I felt complete. I finally knew what you and mom had. What it felt like to be truly loved as how I was. And then that got taken away from me’’ His shoulders slumped and he buried his face in his hands. His father shared a look with his sister and he could tell his sibling shared his anger. Slowly but surely Tatum told them of the encounter with Melissa Monroe. How Amy tried to fight for him but failed. How Melissa’s cold words stabbed right through him. How she forced the two star crossed lovers to be apart, once more. But most of all, how he let her go. Once again, the two older siblings shared a look.  ‘’Come on, Lucas, I need your help in the kitchen with dinner’’

Tatum reached for his phone in his pocket and his finger hovered between calling a contact and the home button. He should be mad for doing this. Everything he did the last 5 years stood against this. Yet, he saw no other way out. In a frenzy he tapped the green phone and hold the phone to his ear. His heart was pounding in his chest and he had to take the familiar military breathing exercises to calm down. The phone was answered with a cocky voice and Tatum knew the recipient was smirking. ‘’Well, hello loverboy’’ Tatum cursed internally. ‘’Blaine’’ he responded shortly. ‘’Let me guess. Shit hit the fan and you decided to call the expert’’ ‘’Look, I don’t have time for your games. So if you’re gonna be like this I’ll just look for another way out-‘’ He heard a sigh on the other side of the line. ‘’Ugh okay fine, Kevin Costner. Amy told me what happened, so I know what this is about’’ The mention of her name made the butterflies in his stomach come to live again but died a second later. He felt a pang of sadness when he thought about the fact that she talked to Blaine before him. The thought of losing her became much more vivid. He didn’t fought for her and so she went to Blaine. He couldn’t blame her either. She deserved someone who would do everything for her. ‘’This was a mistake, sorr-‘’ He started but Blaine cut him off. ‘’No, it isn’t. Look, the reason she called was to ask how much influence her mother would have here. The answer is none. The Peace Summit doesn’t mean she has more power in Ardona. I can take care of a visa for you and your family. Amy doesn’t need to because she is a First Daughter’’ Tatum looked from his feet to his father and aunt in the kitchen, whispering with concerned looks on their faces. The lack of response made Blaine talk further. ‘’I can take care of everything, you just need to get here with her and your family’’

Tatum coughed to stall time and looked once more to his family. ‘’I will have to discuss this. I can’t expect my family to leave behind any loyalty they have to Rutherland. And Amy… She would be a child of Rutherland in Ardona..’’ Blaine took a deep breath before he replied. ‘’Then they value their country above family. You’d be better off without them. As for Amy, she knows the risks and is willing to take them’’ An anger started deep inside him. ‘’Listen here, dipshit. You might not care much for your family, but I do-’’ ‘’Yeah yeah, I know. Just get here safely, jerk’’ With that, Blaine hung up. With perfect timing, his dad came back in the living room with a plate of food in his hands. Tatum felt nauseous of nerves when he knew what he had to ask from his dad. To run away from Rutherland, move out of the house where he and his wife made unreplaceable memories together. He cleared his throat before his dad took a seat on the sofa next to him. But before he could start, his dad started talking. ‘’You know, the thing about love is.. it’s worth fighting. Worth sacrificing everything for. Your mother did that for me. It is time I paid back the favour for my son’’ He looked at him meaningfully. ‘’I- I talked to Blaine Hayes..’’ Tatum started but was cut off by the hand of father on his own shoulder. ‘’I overheard. If we need to go to Ardona, then so be it. If it means my son can be happy, I will go there. We can make home everywhere in the world, because home is right here’’ He pointed to his chest, his heart. A weight fell off Tatum’s shoulder. ‘’Does that mean..’’ His aunt took the other seat of the sofa. ‘’This family won’t be used to keep you from your beloved. We won’t be pawns in her game. We are better than that, we take care of our own. She betrayed our trust, now we betray her by doing the worst a Rutherlandian can do’’ There was a fiery determination behind her eyes.

Without hesitation he walked outside and ran towards the mansion. But before he could reach the gate, he saw a figure in the distance running towards him. He didn’t needed to second guess who it was. The curves of the body, the shoulder length brown hair… He stopped in his tracks and opened the gate for her. As she collapsed in his arms, he finally felt whole again. Behind him, his aunt and father already started to pack the car with their most needed belongings. For his aunt that meant food, for his father it meant family photos. Amy pulled back and give him a sheepish smile. ‘’I really do need to do something about my physical health, huh?’’ He let out a roaring laugh. ‘’I can’t believe you actually ran away again, just for us to be together’’ She shrugged her shoulders. ‘’I will do everything for you, Tate. I called Blaine and-‘’ ‘’So did I. He explained everything. Everyone is on board already. My main concern was getting you out of the mansion’’ Her smile got even brighter. ‘’Problem solved, you big softie’’ Her hands cradled the side of his face and pushed her lips onto his. The kiss was one of relief, passion and love all at once. Just like that, Tatum knew everything would be alright. Even in Ardona.

Tagging: @drakewalkerfantasy​ 

[redhoodieone]

Hate You More

A new fic that I was inspired to write! There will be a Part 2 since this is going to get VERY smutty. Enjoy!

WARNINGS: Language. Mentions a little smut.

I’m a princess. Well, a “bit” of a princess. But that’s not exactly my fault. I’m an only child. My mom and dad always wanted one kid and once they had me they were happy...until they divorced when I was eight-years-old and my dad left somewhere far away. Ever since then, it was always just me and mom, which was never a bad thing.

We were close and got along just fine. Every weekend was our Nicholas Sparks movie marathons on the couch, eating a shit ton of strawberry ice cream straight from the carton, and painting each other’s nails and having her braid my hair and tell me stories of when I was little.

Everything was perfect with just me and my mom...until she married him.

Bruce Wayne.

I never thought my mom would ever want to remarry but Bruce somehow stole her heart and made her fall in love with him.

I didn’t want to blame her for being so stupid for marrying him. I mean, Bruce did treat my mom right. I just hated him so much for convincing my mom to move us into his mansion.

So far away from my first home.

But I know he really loves her, despite being known as a billionaire playboy, womanizing, man whore. After three years into their marriage, I noticed he really cared about me and treated me like his daughter; certainly overprotective and reminding me if I ever needed anything to always go to him.

He even helped me get into GCU. With his help, I’m now into my second year. He’s really proud that I’m a responsible, twenty-one year old college student, and that makes me feel good.

But it hasn’t always been perfect with Bruce. Not only did I get a stepdad, but I got THREE asshole stepbrothers: Dick, Jason, and Tim. They’re the boys Bruce adopted.

Dick wasn’t exactly an asshole. He’s twenty-five years old and he’s always in and out of the mansion. He’s a party animal and I rarely see him unless he’s home for Sunday dinners and for Alfred to do his laundry.

Tim is tolerable. He’s always kind to me, but he’s also a shy and awkward fourteen-year-old. He’s seriously a nerd and he’s becoming an addict to coffee and always being on his computer. But he doesn’t bother me at all.

Not like Jason Fucking Todd.

He’s twenty-one years old and is a complete lazy ass who mooches on everyone.

I honestly hated him the second I met Jason. The second my mom and I moved into the mansion, I had set down backpack on the kitchen counter so I could remove my sweater and throw away the empty bag of fried fast food I had for lunch. The moment I turned around, Jason had jumped up to sit on the kitchen counter and had the nerve to pick up my backpack and throw it to the floor.

“Oops! Your shit was in my spot.”

I had my fucking cell phone, laptop, and picture frames of my family in there.

And that’s how it all started. Jason made it very clear he hates me and I refuse to back down and be nice to him. I mean, the fucking asshole has zero respect for me anyways. All he does is drink, eat all the food, and bring bar sluts home to fuck loudly in his bedroom which is right NEXT DOOR TO MINE!!!

All night and early in the mornings. All I can hear is Jason’s headboard slamming repeatedly against the wall and his bimbos screaming, “Oh God! Right there, Jay! Oh my God, HARDER!”

Seeing him afterwards is worse though. I could be walking to the bathroom or the kitchen and he’d just happen to come by to use the bathroom too, or get a drink of water...only using a sheet that’s wrapped around his waist!

He’d fucking smirk at me and I would try so hard to not look down at his big bulge and thick hard on.

Jason is my stepbrother...only my stepbrother, I constantly remind myself.

But Jason is also an asshole. He may look sexy and taste delicious but his one unattractive flaw is his behavior.

And I’m not one to sit back and let assholes walk all over me. I do get back at Jason quite a bit; enough to piss him off.

Today is one of the days I decide to have a big appetite. After my shower, I run downstairs only wearing my comfy pajama short shorts and a black tank top. I remember Dick is at his own apartment and Alfred is away in London on “holiday” as he calls it. Entering the kitchen, I see Mom making breakfast for us: pancakes, bacon, and sausage.

Bruce is sitting at the kitchen table, drinking his coffee and reading on his cellphone. Tim is drinking a cup of coffee (maybe 5th refill?) and eating pancakes and some sausage.

“Good morning,” I say to all of them.

“Good morning sweetie,” Mom replies with such a warm motherly smile.

Bruce grins at me. “Good morning, Y/N.”

All Tim does is nod his head to me and continues to eat.

“I’m starving,” I say and already fill my plate with two pancakes and some bacon and sausage as well.

I take a seat next to Tim and dig in. Ace, Bruce’s dog moves closer to my feet and looks up at me for some food. Fucking puppy dog eyes...I sneak a few pieces of bacon to him.

Mom eventually sits down with hers and Bruce’s plate. He smiles lovingly at her and the two kiss.

It’s a calming morning. Everyone’s eating and just enjoying the silence...until the asshole comes into the kitchen.

Jason literally has no shame. He comes in only wearing his black boxers and has very cute bed head. Stop it, Y/N. He’s completely shirtless. Not even acknowledging he’s in the kitchen, Jason quickly makes a plate for himself which he only puts three pancakes and like two handful sizes of bacon.

I silently growl and tighten my hand around my fork as I’m stuck looking at his bare, muscular upper body. His arms look strong. He’s just...all muscle. All man.

But then I remember he’s a fucking asshole and I hate him.

As if he can feel my eyes on him, Jason quickly glances at me and smirks. He actually fucking flexes his muscles for me.

I immediately look down because I just know my cheeks are red like tomatoes. God, does he have to be so attractive???

“Good morning, princess,” Jason taunts me, after greeting everyone else, obviously. He sits directly in front of me with that shit eating grin. “Did you sleep well last night?”

I glare at him. Fuck him. “Yeah, I did. You know very well that I can’t sleep peacefully unless you bring a whore home and fuck her until she’s blue in the face, Jason. I mean, when it’s so quiet at night, I just can’t fall asleep! It’s impossible! It’s like I HAVE to hear you fuck just to go to sleep!” I say sarcastically.

“So, you do listen to me when I fuck my girls, huh? Is your sex life nonexistent that you have to get yourself off on others who actually get off?” Jason jokes and shoves a piece of bacon in his mouth. “That’s pretty pathetic, even for you, Y/N. At least Tiny Tim here watches internet porn. Maybe you should start getting yourself off with that instead of listening to me fuck.”

“Jason...” Bruce warns. “Don’t even start this morning.”

“Start what? I’m not even doing anything,” Jason says. He raises an eyebrow at me and keeps that fucking smirk on his face.

“Leave Y/N alone, Jason,” Tim butts in.

“Quiet Timbers. Let the princess tell me off. I love it when she gets all red and pissed off.”

My mom glances at me with a serious look, too. Why is she giving me that look when I didn’t even do anything?!

“Aw, there’s sausage?! I didn’t know there was sausage up there!” Jason whines. His eyes dart from my plate over to my mom and Bruce.

“I actually served the last few pieces to Bruce. I’m sorry, Jason,” my mom apologizes. She frowns and looks down at hers and Bruce’s empty plates.

“That’s all right. I see there’s still five uneaten sausages on Y/N’s plate,” Jason says and smirks at me. He looks down at my plate and back up at me. “You’re not going to eat them, are you princess? Because if not, I want them.”

He’s fucking teasing me. Jason is mocking me with those green eyes and that fucking smile that wets every girl’s panties. It’s like he actually believes he’s going to get away with this. He really thinks he’s going to get what he wants. Jason slowly reaches a hand towards my plate to get my sausages.

I want to burst his cocky bubble in front of everyone.

“Actually...I’m going to give them to the dog. And by dog, I mean Ace,” I say, quickly grabbing all the sausages in my hand and feed them to Ace under the table. “You see, I don’t feed dirty dogs like you. Ace is a clean, loyal, and sweet dog. You on the other hand are a dirty, disgusting, slut who fucks anything with a hole.”

My sudden outburst startles everyone at the table. I see everyone’s wide eyes and open mouths hanging in shock at me.

Jason chuckles lowly. His eyes are full of anger and hatred for me. “What did you just say to me?” he asks.

“You heard me,” I reply with the same tone. “Unless you lost your hearing due to all the screaming from the banshee skank you brought home last night from only God knows where.”

“You know, you’re starting to sound like a jealous bitch. For someone who has claimed to hate me and not want anything to do with me on multiple occasions, you seem to be really obsessed about my sex life,”

“Oh please, don’t flatter yourself,”

“Y/N stop,” my mom says.

“You think I’m flattering myself?! I’m not the one who always checks myself out! You know, I always see you staring at me right?! If anything, you’re flattered by me!” Jason snaps.

“ENOUGH!!!” Bruce shouts.

We’re all silent but Jason and I continue to stare each other down.

“I’ve had enough of the two of you fighting! It’s old and it’s seriously ridiculous. It needs to end now. Your mother and I are going to leave for Spain tonight, and I don’t want to hear anything bad about the two of you while we’re gone. Now, apologize to each other,” Bruce says.

“Apologize to the princess? For what?! She’s a fucking bitch, who’s always bitching, and she’s basically the biggest bitch who ever bitched!” Jason yells. “She should apologize to me!”

“If I’m a fucking bitch then that makes you the biggest asshole here! You’re literally the most disgusting, disrespectful, lazy ass guy I have ever met! You have NO respect for anyone who lives here! Why should I fucking apologize to you?! All you do is drink, eat all the food, and bring random whores to our house and force us all to listen to you have sex!” I yell back.

“Our house? You think this is your house, too? I hate to burst your “bitching bubble” sweetheart, but this isn’t your house! You’re extra baggage that had to be dragged here! Your mom was wanted here; not you. As far as I’m concerned, you’re not even family!” Jason yells louder than before.

My bottom lip trembles uncontrollably. I feel tears running down my cheeks. I need to get out of here before I completely break down in front of Jason.

“You’re such a fucking asshole, Jason!” I choke out.

I quickly jump out of my seat and run up the stairs. After I slam my bedroom door, I throw myself down onto my bed and cry. I can even hear Bruce screaming his head off and tearing Jason a new one.

——————————————————————————

I wake up to an empty stomach. Rolling over onto my back, I rub my eyes and yawn. It’s dark in my bedroom; indicating it’s already nighttime. I reach for my cellphone on my nightstand and see it’s already eight o’clock.

I must have been really exhausted to have slept the day away. Those days usually happen after I cry a lot and feel like shit.

Mom and Bruce are probably already gone. Their Spain trip is only for the weekend. I’m seriously glad about that since I don’t know how I’m going to get through the weekend with Jason still around.

Maybe if I’m lucky he’s already at the bar and picking up skanks. That means I have time to eat and a few hours of silence for myself.

I decide to go downstairs and I instantly notice all the lights are off except for the kitchen light. Slowly stepping into the kitchen, I see it’s empty and that there’s a big box of pizza and two drinks; a bottle of beer and a glass of orange juice with the bottle of Vodka next to it.

Raising an eyebrow in question, I look around to see who did this. Noticing the back sliding door is open, I walk over slowly to peek out.

Jason.

On the phone and sitting at the patio table.

He doesn’t see me but I can hear him clearly.

“Do you think she’ll really like it?”

[squidproquoclarice]

Yeehawgust Day 18: Gambling Den

May 1877 San Francisco, California

One lesson Arthur had learned two years ago was that Saturday night outside the various gaming hells, cathouses, and bars of the Barbary Coast could always be relied upon for some decent pickings.  There would always be drunks tossed out into the alleys, careless idiots not watching their pockets from gambling winnings, and the madam and painted ladies at Kissing Kate’s were more than amenable to let a skilled pickpocket sneak in a window and make off with a man’s wallet while he was busy.  The poor bastards were always sailors who’d wake up drugged to shit in some alley the next morning courtesy of Kate’s special brew, and they knew if they tried to complain about it, people would just laugh at a randy sailor so eager for a poke he’d been robbed during.  Not to mention they were almost never in town long enough to have time to complain before they shipped out again anyhow.

They’d made out decent uptown already, him and Benji, picking off some of the swells as they came from the theater, and the Barbary Coast was generous tonight as well with the harbor full of ships, and many working men having been paid today.

Feeling cocky with their success and aiming for a treat, he distracted a roasted chestnut vendor by lurking a little too close, and got a kick aimed at him for his trouble.  But the deed was done and as he scurried off, yelling back, “Didn’t want your stuff anyway, old man, probably tastes like it’s been rolled in horseshit!” Benji snagged a bag of chestnuts behind the man’s back and gave Arthur a quick wink before hurrying in the other direction.

They both found their way back to the largely-abandoned tenement, and it was child’s play as usual to get up to the roof by climbing over the buildings beside it, finding the board they used as a narrow footbridge and putting it down to cross, then pulling it after them as safe as if they were in a castle with its drawbridge up.  It had taken them the better part of three months to find various odds and ends of canvas, fruit crates, ropes, tin, and other bits and pieces to make their lean-to, but it kept them safe and dry.  Much better than sleeping down in alleys as they had before, scrapping with other kids most every day for the best spots. He didn’t like to remember the days he’d been entirely alone, before he and Benji agreed to have each other’s backs.  It didn’t matter.  They had each other now, and Benji Davidson was the one person Arthur could rely upon in this world, and that was all he needed.  The rest could all go to hell, so far as he was concerned.

Sitting on the ledge of the building, Benji held out the bag of chestnuts.  They’d cooled enough that they didn’t burn Arthur’s fingers, and he joked, “Hope you didn’t shove that down your pants right after you took them, or you probably got a whole different bag of roasted nuts right now.”

“Shut up, at least I got a sack of nuts to brag about, little boy,” Benji said, throwing a pebble at him, but cackling at the joke all the same.  Not a chestnut.  Food was something they could never waste.

Tomorrow?  It would be more of the same.  Hunting for food, scrounging to survive, looking for marks.  Day after day, and he didn’t know where it all ended in this life they were living.  Probably with a bullet or a rope in the end if they didn’t get caught and dragged to reform school first, and he wasn’t sure which fate would be worse.  He didn’t bother to think about the future.  No point to it.  They lived day by day and that was the way of it.  But until the inevitable, he had Benji by his side, and tonight there were full pockets and a treat of chestnuts, and once again they could sit here at night on the ledge like a pair of kings enjoying a view of the city and the stars that anyone would envy.  That was enough for now.

[chipper9906]

Bound To You - Chapter 9: One Last Idea

< - - - Previous Chapter

WARNING: SPOILERS FOR SEASON 15

NOTE: Pairings and Ratings Will Change As Story Is Updated

Pairings: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester

Rating: General Audiences

Chapter Word Count: 6,324 

Overall Word Count: 70,628

Status: Multi Chapter Fic - In Progress (9/?)

Chapter Preview: 

“Your father shouldn’t have-,” Cas cut himself off with a frustrated grunt, a few octaves away from being a growl. “You were a child. The things he did to you… the responsibilities he forced you to bare… I’m sorry, Dean. I know you have a lot of respect for your father, but that is not a respect I can share.

“Guess we both got too much respect for our dads, huh?” Dean tried to joke, but it fell flat. “You gotta admit that God was more of a disappointment than my dad though, right?”

“The fact that your father is slightly better than an absentee and destructive God isn’t an achievement, Dean.”

Link To Fic

Or

Click Below To Keep Reading

Character Key For Telepathic Conversations

'Italic Text' - Castiel

'Bold Text' - Dean

 * * *

 That morning, Dean woke up with a smile on his face.

They were happening quite often, he realized. At least, ever since Cas has taken up residence in his mind, that was. Part of him’s going to miss having Cas up in his head, helping him to turn his nightmares into significantly more pleasant dreams. He supposes that’ll all stop once they get Cas out of his head and back into his body.

Which they will.

Miracle groggily raised her head from the bed at the feeling of Dean shuffling about, yanking himself over to the edge of the bed and into his wheelchair. She huffed that long-suffering ‘how dare you awaken me’ dog sigh at him, but got to her feet with a bone-cracking stretch none the less, obediently following her owner out of the room.

Sam and Eileen were already up (as usual), huddled around the library’s table with a few sheets of paper haphazardly sprawled out between then; a stark contrast from the usual piles upon piles of books it had been the past few days. The two had their heads close together, whispering excitedly to one another as Sam over-enthusiastically gestured to one of the papers in front of him.

“Morning nerds,” Dean greeted them oh so kindly, balancing a scalding cup of coffee a little too close to the family jewels than he’s comfortable with as he pushed himself towards the two. “What’s got you two so jittery at this time of the day?”

Sam and Eileen straightened themselves up, turning their attention towards Dean. “First of all, it’s eleven in the morning. We’ve been up for five hours.” Sam shot back. “Second of all… what’s got you so smiley?”

“Huh?” Dean finds himself raising a hand to his face self-consciously, only to confirm that yep, he still had the smile planted on his face. “What? Something wrong with me being in a good mood?”

“With you? Yeah, since it usually means you’ve put Nair in my shampoo again or something.”

“Yeah, that was a good one…” Dean said wistfully, thinking back fondly to the memory of Sam throwing every bathroom product on hand at him upon seeing the state of his hair.

“Come on, Sam,” Eileen said playfully, wiggling her eyebrows at Dean whilst nudging at Sam’s elbow with her own. “Obviously, Dean had a… nice dream…”

Sam’s questioning frown quickly broke out into an amused grin, the two sporting similar expressions that they wielded against a quickly reddening Dean. “Ooohhhh… Was that it, Dean? Did you and Cas have a nice ‘talk’ about… y’know, recent events?”

“Shuddup,” Dean grumbled, shooting the two warning glares as he slammed his coffee cup atop the table.

‘You’re very adorable when you blush, Dean. I’ve always wanted to tell you that.’

‘You shut up too. You’re only going to make me blush more.’

‘All the more reason to keep complimenting you,’

“See, look!” Eileen exclaimed jovially to Sam, waving to Dean’s blank face. “He’s been awake, what, ten minutes? Can’t go more than ten minutes without Cas!”

“Actually, Cas was giving me tips on the way I can run over both your feet with my chair and make it seem like an accident.”

‘I did no such thing!’

“Damn Cas, and you want me to hide a bag of Miracle’s crap under their mattress? Now that’s just cruel.”

‘Don’t think I won’t take over your body to apologize, Dean. I’ll do it.’

“Yeah, sure Dean,” Sam’s voice dripped with sarcasm as he shot bitch face number twenty-eight at him. “I’m sure Cas was the one to come up with such childish ideas. I bet Cas has never played a practical joke in his life.”

Dean rolled his eyes at his brother’s condescending tone, picking up his cup of coffee to take a sip. ‘Sam’s getting a little too cocky for my tastes…’

‘I find myself in one of those rare occasions where I agree with you. Although, he is correct I’ve never played a practical joke before. That being said, I now have a good idea of who my first victim will be…’

Dean snorted into the cup of coffee he held to his lips, wincing at the hot splash of coffee to his face whilst simultaneously choking on his own laughter. ‘Only if you promise I can help you. And nothing life-threatening or harmful. Well, nothing too harmful, anyway.’

‘I’m not sure if this is typical of most human’s first dates, but I’m more than happy to agree.’

‘Since when do we do anything the ‘typical way’, Cas?’

‘Good point.’

Sam shook his head with the beginnings of a pleased smile, accepting the box of tissues Eileen had gotten up to get and sliding them over to Dean. “Not sure if I wanna know what you guys are talking about…”

“Glad to see you guys are talking,” Eileen noted as she dropped back down into her chair. “Last we heard you talking to Cas, you uh… you didn’t seem on good terms.”

“All jokes aside, you guys did talk, right?”

Dean quickly mopped up the spilled coffee with a handful of tissues, tossing them into the bin underneath the table with a soft sigh. “Yeah, we talked… Turns out Sergei wasn’t lying. Cas’s grace is running out on its own.”

Eileen and Sam’s face dropped at the news, practically deflating at the table. “So… what does this mean?” Sam asked.

“Mean’s we’re running out of time,” Dean answered somberly, leaning forward to rest against the top of the table, pulling his cup of coffee closer to him.

“How long until…?”

“Few weeks. Month – at most.”

“Shit…” Sam mumbled, running a hand through his hair, glancing down at the papers in front of him. “That’s… not great.”

“No. It sure as hell ain't.” Dean said, finger tapping anxiously at the side of his cup. “I’m fresh out of ideas, and Cas…”

“What? What about Cas?” Eileen questioned.

“Let’s just say Cas don’t have much hope,” Dean answered. “He… he thinks we’re wasting our time here; doesn’t think there’s any way of doing this.”

“Yeah? Well, tell Cas to stop talking like an idiot, because we’re not giving up on him.” Sam said strongly, twisting one of the papers on the desk around before sliding it across to Dean.

“What’s this?” Dean asked, straightening back up as he plucked up the paper from the table.

“An idea,” Sam replied. “I was just thinking… do you remember back after… after what happened to mom, with… with Jack?”

Dean paled at the reminder, glancing up at Sam over the top of the paper. He nods his head.

“We had asked Rowena if there was something she could do to bring her back, remember?”

“Course I remember,” Dean answered dryly, dropping his gaze back down to the paper full of complicated-looking Latin. “Didn’t work. What came back was just…”

The realization struck Dean just as he was about to say it. “A shell…” That was exactly what they were looking for. A shell. A vessel. “But wait, it-,”

“It couldn’t support any life,” Sam answered grimly. “But then… Rowena had been working on the spell behind the scenes. And she succeeded. What you’re holding is the spell I used to bring Eileen’s body back, then put her soul into her body.”

“But-,” Eileen butted out before Dean’s hopeful expression could grow any bigger. “That’s kind of the problem we have. We had my soul to bring me back, to recreate my body. Cas… doesn’t have that.”

“Right,” Sam said. “If we tried to use this spell with Cas’s grace… Cas’s grace isn’t connected to Jimmy’s body. There’s nothing for it to rebuild on.”

“Okay…” Dean muttered, feeling a little disheartened. “So… what then? We can’t use it?”

“Well, I was thinking,” Sam begun, a little more excited this time. “It almost seems like we need a mix of the two spells. Brings back a body that can sustain life, but not one that requires a soul to be built upon.”

“And… how do we do that?” Dean asked.

“I have no idea. But I think I know who can.” Sam said, already standing up from the table. “We need to talk to the person who made the spells. Think we’re gonna have to summon the new Queen of Hell.”

* * *

 Something about summoning always made Dean feel uneasy. Call it past trauma from previous crossroad deals, call it dealing with demons full stop, call it whatever. It didn’t matter if they personally knew the demon in question (which was something he never thought he’d say in his life), there was still something so… wrong about it. Which is good, he supposes. Perhaps something built into the soul that’s repulsed by the twisted one it’s summoning; a glimpse of what will happen to itself if accepting the deal proposed.

Dean eyed Sam as he finished setting up the candles atop the sigils they had hastily drawn onto the library table, the uneasiness he had already been feeling only heightening when Sam picked up his demon blade, holding his hand over the bowl of summoning ingredients, once more ready to bleed for Dean.

“Are you sure this is even going to work?” Dean asked before Sam could make the cut. “This is supposed to summon the king of hell, isn’t it?”

“Doubt summoning spells care much about gender equality, Dean.” Eileen retorted.

Dean sighed, scratching at his furrowed brow. “You know what I mean… Maybe the spell was specifically for Crowley. What if Rowena has a different spell? And what’s to say she’ll even bother showing up anyway?”

“We’re about to find out,” Sam shrugged his shoulders. “If not… we can always take another trip down to Hell.”

“You say that like it’s normal…” Eileen added under her breath.

Sam slides the blade across his palm, barely wincing at the familiar sting it brings. Another scar to add, a long tally both brothers shared. The burn worsens as he squeezes his hand into a fist, forcing out a trickle of blood that darkens the dry herbs within the bowl.

Sam picks up a box of matchsticks next to the bowl, sliding one out of the pack and quickly striking it against the side. A flame bursts into life atop the match, all three pairs of eyes in the room fixated on the little golden flickering tip.

“Et ad congregandum... eos coram… me…” The Latin drops off Sam’s tongue like it was his first language. The match drops along with his last word, the dry ingredients within the bowl setting aflame at the slightest contact with the match, shooting out a tall flame that had Sam stepping back from the bowl at the wave of heat that came with it.

The bunker was unnaturally quiet. Not the creak of the old pipes, or the whirring of old equipment, or the buzzing of electricity running through an ancient wiring system. All three of them were holding their breaths, scanning meticulously around the room for a flash of auburn hair and an unnaturally bright dress that only Rowena could pull off.

“Did… did you do it wrong?” Dean asks, wheeling over to the table and peering inside the burnt contents of the bowl.

“I don’t think so,” Sam replied, not sounding too sure of himself. “I followed the instructions…”

Eileen grabbed Sam’s hand as he peered down at the book on the table, busying herself with cleaning the wound as the two looked over the instructions. “Maybe we didn’t use enough of something?” She offered off-handedly as she began winding a roll of gauze around Sam’s hand, keeping it tight enough to restrict the blood flow, taping it down to his hand and making sure it was secure.

“Maybe…” Dean says, rubbing a hand across his mouth as he thinks. “Or maybe she just didn’t want to show up-,”

“Or maybe I was pondering over what mess you’re bringing me into this time.”

All three wheeled around (quite literally, in Dean’s case) at the unforgettable Scottish accent, greeted by the sight of a – thankfully – smiling Rowena as she stretched out on one of the chairs, a tumbler of whisky already in hand.

You know what they say… Like mother, like son….

“Hello, boys,” She greeted them brightly, eyes sliding over to Eileen who was – understandably – looking rather unsure. “And girls! Who’s this one?”

“A friend,” Eileen answered warily. “And I hope I can say the same of you… considering it’s your spell that brought me back.”

“Oh,” Rowena said brightly, glancing up to Sam. “You found it then? The spell?”

“More like Chuck led me to it…” Sam’s mouth twisted into an uncomfortable grimace. “But… yes.”

“Well-,” Rowena clapped her hands, making them startle somewhat at the harsh sound. “I’m always one for a wee bit of gossip and catch up, but I’m guessing you didn’t invite me here for a chat?”

Rowena’s gaze had dropped down to Dean as she said that, a surprisingly sympathetic look crossing the witches – demons…? Witch-demons-queen of hell’s face. “Firstly, I suppose I should offer my thanks for saving the world again. At least, I assume you have, since we’re all still here.”

“That’s… mostly thanks to you,” Sam said with a genuine smile of appreciation.

“Flattery will get you nowhere, Samuel,” Rowena brushed him off. “And secondly… if you’re here to bargain with me for your legs Dean…”

“That’s not it,” Dean quickly corrected her. “It’s… it’s kind of complicated-,”

“Then I guess it’s something to do with the angel sitting pretty in your head?”

Dean’s mouth swung shut, taken aback by Rowena’s spot-on assessment of the situation.

“Oh yes – I can feel the disgustingly pure energy coming from you, Dean. I’d recognize grace anywhere… Question is: which one is it?”

Before Dean could ever answer, a look of dawning realization had passed over Rowena’s face. She peeled one of her manicured hands off her glass, pointing to all three of them as she counted. “One, two, three… We’re missing one, aren’t we?”

“Two,” Sam says. “We got Jack back, but uh… he’s kind of… God now? We haven’t seen him since we dealt with Chuck…”

Rowena stared blankly at Sam for a few moments. Her eyes flickered between the three of them, waiting for one to reveal the joke. At their serious faces, she raised her glass to her lips and drained the drink in one go, handling the fiery burn of the whisky like it was nothing. “Another God… this one a three-year-old child… what could go wrong?”

“World’s not ended yet,” Dean tried to stay optimistic.

“And what of Mr. Blue Eyes?” Rowena asked. “If I’m putting two and two together… he’s currently the one hitching a ride in your noggin?”

“For the time being. Which is kind of where we could use your help.”

Rowena sighs deeply, looking down drearily to the empty tumbler in her hands. “Come on then; tell me the story.”

“I… we lost Cas. He, uh… he kind of sacrificed himself.”

Rowena raised an eyebrow at him, her long red nails playing a plinking tune across the glass of her drink. “For what?”

Dean swallowed harshly. “For me.”

Rowena narrowed her eyes at him, glancing over to Sam and Eileen for a split second before her eyes settled back on Dean. She kept her focus there, leaning forward in her chair as she asked: “Did you fix it?”

“Huh?” Sam blurted out, unsure of the meaning of Rowena’s question. Because, after all, it wasn’t intended for him. Then again, even Dean seemed unsure of the meaning…

“Dean?” Rowena says his name in the scolding kind of tone you’d expect from a mother. “Did you fix it?”

“Oh…” Dean exclaims as the memory floods back; the two of them sat what felt like miles apart in Rowen’s throne room, unable to even look at one another as they received what – if Dean’s being honest with himself – was a much-needed counseling session from the Queen of Hell, of all people… “Yeah. Yeah, I’d say we fixed it.”

Rowena nodded appreciatively at that, seemingly satisfied with his answer. “Did you finally figure out what fifth base was with him…?”

“Alright, let’s not go there,” Dean grumbled, annoyed to find he was blushing again. “Point is, I should be dead twice by this point if it weren’t for Cas. And that’s only over the span of these past two months.”

“So other than God… what else was trying to kill you?”

“Death herself,” Dean answered. “Cas stepped in… Summoned the Empty on a deal he didn’t tell us about.”

‘I’m sensing you’re still angry about that.’

“I see… And so Castiel here was taken to the Empty?” Rowena asked.

“Yep.”

“…And the second time?”

“It was… there was a bunch of vamps and…” Dean tried to describe his death in a way that didn’t sound as lame as it did in his head. “I kind of got shoved into a nail…”

Dean knew that look on Rowena’s face. That was the look of someone trying really, really hard not to laugh. “I’m sorry?”

“It was this big friggen’ rusty rebar or something, okay!” Dean threw up his hands as he answered. “One of the vamps got the upper hand on me and shoved me onto the damn thing; pipe went straight through my back and pinned me there.”

“Wow… I suppose that explains the new wheels…”

“Rather have these than the death that was coming,” Dean says. “Cas saved me. Again. When I prayed to him, he… he heard me.”

“You woke him up?” Rowena asks, sounding truly amazed by this revelation. “From the Empty?”

“I did,” Dean answers, a hint of a proud smile on his face. “And Cas dragged himself out of that place to get to me.”

“You could ring a bell and that angel of yours will crawl out of any dark crevice to get to you, Dean Winchester. He’s stubbornly loyal, and a damn fool for it.”

“What can I say? He’s a Winchester; willing to defy death itself to save the ones he loves.”

“One…”

“What was that?”

“Hm? Oh, nothing, nothing…” Rowena said dismissively in much too of a high-pitched, cheery voice for Dean to think it’s ‘nothing’. “So, your angel pulls off the impossible once more by escaping the Empty to get to you… and, since he’s in your head, I’m assuming you agreed to possession?”

“Yeah, I did. Like I said, I was dying, and Cas… Cas didn’t have his vessel.”

“The Empty kind of… destroyed it…” Sam added awkwardly to a puzzled looking Rowena. “Cas thinks it’s because he didn’t die like most angels. The Empty literally swallowed him whole; pulled him into the Empty as part of itself.”

“And now Cas’s grace is burning out,” Eileen added on too, feeling a tad bit guilty by how overwhelmed Rowena was looking at the influx of information. “It has been for a while, actually…”

“And that’s why we need your help,” Dean took over. “We can’t just throw Cas into a new body; he’s not strong enough to survive the transfer, and… he kind of has a connection to the old one. Can’t keep him with me either, coz once his grace runs out… well, it’s bad news all round.”

“I’m still not entirely sure what it is you’re asking of me…” Rowena sounded moments away from asking them where their nearest liquor cabinet was.

“We want to know if there’s a way to rebuild Cas’s old body.” Dean wheels himself closer to Rowena, well aware of the pleading tone his voice has taken up. “We’re running out of time, Rowena. Time, and options.”

“We thought maybe something could be done with the resurrection spell,” Sam nervously added on, scrambling for the papers of the spell sat atop the table and waving them in the air. “We were looking over them earlier, and it just… it seems likes a starting point maybe?”

Sam hurried over to Rowena with papers in hand, handing them back over to the witch look a schoolboy apprehensively handing in his work. Rowena accepted the papers being shoved into her free hand, tearing her eyes away from Dean’s desperate face to Sam’s frantic movements.

“Sort of like a mix between the two, actually,” Sam added on hurriedly. “You know, what with the first one not being able to support life without a soul, and the second one needing a soul, so if we-,”

“Sam…” Rowena said his name softly, stopping him from rambling on more. Dean hated that tone. He hated the unusual level of kindness coming from Rowena. Because he knows that’s the kind of tone you use in the hopes of softening the blow of what you’re about to say next.

“You can’t do this, can you?” Rowena’s eyes flicker over to Dean at his crushed words. Considering Rowena had attempted to kill both him and Cas in the past, on top of becoming Queen of Hell… the shine of sympathy in her eyes was surprisingly genuine.

“No, I can’t.”

“But-,” Sam tried, but was promptly stopped by Rowena’s raised hand.

“Angels are different. With Eileen here… her spirit was attached to her physical form. You had something to work with there, you see? The resurrection spell, it’s… it’s more like turning the spirit into flesh. With Castiel…”

“We’ve only got his grace,” Dean says, sinking down into his chair as the realization they’ve met another dead end begins to sink in.

“Which isn’t connected to his vessel,” Rowena continues off Dean’s words. “If we tried messing around with his grace… who knows what could happen? It has nothing to rebuild upon. We could easily end up simply stripping Castiel of the remainder of his grace, and with how volatile an angel's grace can be… we may accidentally turn it into a weapon.”

Rowena stands from her chair, meekly offering the papers of the resurrection spell back to Sam. Sam looks to the papers, shoulders drooped and head hung low as he takes them back.

“I really am sorry, boys,” Rowena tells them, patting Sam’s arm as she glances down to Dean. “If I hear something different… if you find anything in the Book of the Damned, then… you know how to call me. But the truth of the matter is I simply don’t have much experience with angels. And even if I did… I don’t even know how that could help with this matter.”

Dean’s thankful smile comes out more strained than he intended, the effort of forcing his face into one dampened by his crushed spirit. “Well… thanks for showing up, anyway. At least now we know, y’know… you can’t help; so that’s crossed off the list…”

“When you said you didn’t have much time… how much did you-,”

“Not enough,” Dean says with a slight shake of his head.

Rowena dropped her hand down so her fingers were just lightly brushing against the top of Dean’s shoulder. The touch was oddly mother-like, and it had Dean scrunching his eyes shut as he tries to push down the despair that was threatening to rear its ugly head.

“I’m sorry,” Rowena says quietly, as if only to him. It seemed like the final nail in the coffin. Like.. this was it; Cas was right… They couldn’t bring his body back. His grace was going to burn out. He’ll have to force Cas out. He’ll have to say goodbye, again, but now it’s different – now he knows he loves him, now Cas know he loves him, and…

He can’t do this.

“Good luck, boys,” Rowena drawls out, the comforting touch on Dean’s shoulder slipping away. Her eyes drift over to meet Eileen’s, the smallest of a smile twitching at her lips. “And girls… I think you’re going to need it.”

And then, she was gone.

And the last of their hope seemed to go with her.

“That’s that, I guess,” Dean says, staring vacantly at the spot where Rowena was moments ago.

The pitter-patter of paws signals Miracle’s arrival, emerging from her hiding spot now the stranger had left. She makes a bee-line for Dean, slinking over to his wheelchair and resting her head in his lap. It’s able to pull the smallest of smiles from Dean, rubbing underneath her ears and brushing his hands through her thick fur. “Cas was right… you are able to sense a lot of stuff, huh?”

“Dean…” Sam steps away from Eileen’s side. “I’m sorry…”

Dean’s face twists into an amused frown, glancing up to his brother’s guilt-ridden face. “What’s there to be sorry for?”

“Getting your hopes up, I suppose. You… you seemed really invested in this idea too, you know? And I… I don’t know, I guess I’m just sorry it didn’t work out.”

“Yeah, well… couldn’t be that easy, could it? Would have been too good to be true…”

“There’s something I didn’t tell you.”

Dean freezes at Sam’s confession, getting an unhappy whine from Miracle that the scritches had stopped.

“Something I remembered, right before we summoned Rowena. Even if she could help with the spell… I don’t think it would have worked either way.”

“What are you talking about?” Eileen asks, tugging at Sam’s arm to get his attention. “The spell worked with me, didn’t it?”

“Yeah, but that’s… kind of the point,” Sam replied with somewhat of a wince. “Those witches? Back when I was working on the spell? That woman warned me, said that Billie would catch onto what we had done and close the loophole. And yeah, I know Billie’s dead now, but… the new Death - whoever they are - isn’t exactly going to let it slide, either. She made it sound like a one-time thing. And… we used it.”

“Hey, no, it’s a good thing you brought the idea up,” Dean insisted. “If it turned out it could have worked, and we didn’t even bother to try it because you didn’t want to bring it up? That would have been so much worse.”

“Yeah, I guess…” Sam mutters, throwing the papers down onto the table. He brushes his hand across his mouth, letting his eyes slide closed with a deep sigh. “There’s gotta be something else. Something hidden in all these files, otherwise I… I don’t know what to do…”

“We’ll find something,” Eileen said, sensing the need for some sense of optimism. Of hope. “We’ve got to look for an answer to find one, right?”

Dean smiled appreciatively up at Eileen. It didn’t feel real. He’s fairly certain Eileen knew it wasn’t real, either.

“Yeah…” He mumbles. He had never craved a drink more in his life. “Sure… let’s find a way…”

He wasn’t sure if Cas’s silence in his head was one of joint hopelessness; or if, perhaps, he didn’t truly believe there was no answer until he heard Dean himself begin to give up.

* * *

 Castiel found himself stepping into Dean’s bar once more.

This time… there was something different about it. There was no soft music playing from the jukebox – which was switched off, it’s colorful flashing lights left blank and empty. The soft amber glow of the overhead lights were also switched off - bar from one - leaving the bar in a cold and unwelcoming atmosphere. Only one light was lit, aimed at a sullen-looking Dean Winchester sat upon a bar stool in the corner of the room. There was no beaming smile like there was last time, replaced with an empty expression as he leaned back against the corner wall with… a guitar?

In Dean’s hands was a beautiful spruce acoustic, his fingers expertly switching between the six strings. He plucked them quietly, invoking a gentle and solemn sounding sound from the wooden instrument atop his lap. Though, his gaze was not fixated on his fingers as they danced across the fretboard as was expected. His eyes were pointed down towards the laminated wooden panels of the floor, staring without seeing as he played a song that Castiel faintly recognized, though the name wasn’t coming to him.  

“I didn’t know you could play?” Castiel finds it almost criminal to interrupt the beautiful melody Dean was creating.

“I don’t. Not really,” Dean replies, not even a hesitation in his playing. “At least, I haven’t actually played in a long time. Comes easy in my dreams, though.”

Castiel pulls out one of the stools from the bar, dropping it a few steps away from Dean. He takes a seat on the comfortable cushion, content to watch Dean as he plays. “When did you learn?”

“You, uh… you remember when I told you about Sonny’s? That time when Dad was out on a hunt, and I got caught stealing food?”

“You mean when your father abandoned you at a young age, leaving you to fend for both yourself and your brother to the point you were forced to steal to feed yourselves?”

Dean’s fingers did stumble this time, slamming his hands against the strings to mute the obnoxiously loud and screeching note. Usually, he would be up in arms at this point; would tell whoever that it was all his fault, he should have been better prepared for looking after Sammy, that he should have known what to do if Dad was out on a hunt longer than usual… but looking at Castiel’s furious face, knowing such anger wasn’t aimed at him, rather on his behalf… He decided he was tired of making excuses for John.

“Yeah… yeah, when that happened,” Dean gritted out, letting himself feel the anger he should have felt all those years ago. “Kept telling myself that it was only temporary, y’know? That dad would get back, get Sammy and come get me. But then… God, Cas – I was shit scared of what he’d do when he found out. If he knew that I had messed up, got myself caught and left Sammy all alone…”

“Your father shouldn’t have-,” Cas cut himself off with a frustrated grunt, a few octaves away from being a growl.  “You were a child. The things he did to you… the responsibilities he forced you to bare… I’m sorry, Dean. I know you have a lot of respect for your father, but that is not a respect I can share.

“Guess we both got too much respect for our dads, huh?” Dean tried to joke, but it fell flat. “You gotta admit that God was more of a disappointment than my dad though, right?”

“The fact that your father is slightly better than an absentee and destructive God isn’t an achievement, Dean.”

Dean stared at Castiel for a few seconds before nodding. “Alright, you got me there.”

Dean resumed his playing, the gentle tune of the guitar helping to soothe the tension brought on by the mention of John. “There was this girl there… her name was Robin. She came round every now and then to give guitar lessons. I, uh… I was kind of infatuated with her…”

Castiel smiled fondly at that, cocking his head to the side as he waited for Dean to elaborate.

“Shut up…” Dean grumbled, hiding his own smile at the knowing one planted across Cas’s face. “Didn’t care for it much originally, coz it was just a way to hang out with her, you know? But after a while… I dunno, something just clicked. I started to enjoy it.”

“Why didn’t you keep playing?” Castiel asked.

Dean laughed humorlessly, resting his chin on the top of the guitar. “How would I, Cas? You think Dad would have splurged out on a guitar for me? Bring it with us everywhere we go? He’d probably have just scolded me for wasting my time on a ‘useless skill’ when I could be learning something important.”

Castiel had many more words on the subject of John Winchester and his treatment of his kids, but wisely kept them quiet for now. “What about once you settled down in the bunker? You could have then?”

“Eh, I guess so. We’ve always been busy with everything, so… Guess I never really bothered. Plus I’m pretty damn sure my dream guitar playing skills won’t translate well to real-life…”

“Might be a good hobby to pick back up,” Castiel tells him, reaching out to run a hand down the smooth wooden surface of the guitar with the backs of his fingers. “It would be nice to hear you play for me when…”

Dean’s eyes shoot up to Cas as his voice trailed off, the small content smile playing on his face slipping away. He didn’t need to finish the rest of the sentence. It was the issue they had been skirting around ever since they had stepped into his dream.

For when we get me back.

Dean sighed, lifting his head from the guitar and sliding it off his lap, leaning it carefully against the side of the bar next to him. Castiel’s eyes followed him as he stood from the barstool, brushing off non-existent dust from his jeans in what was more of a gesture of habit than anything. Dean’s arms found themselves tugging at Castiel’s arm to get him to stand, answering Castiel’s inquisitive frown with an easy smile.

Castiel followed Dean’s tugs, letting a smile creep onto his face as Dean’s hand slips down to his own, fingers intertwining with his in a perfect fit. “What are you-,” Is all Castiel could ask before Dean had grabbed hold of his other hand and placed it on his hip, separating their joined hands to place his on Castiel’s shoulders. Castiel followed suit, placing his free hand on top of Dean’s shoulder, his other firmly holding Dean’s waist. Dean took his hands off Cas briefly to snap his fingers, smile widening as an absolute classic (at least, in Dean’s opinion) drifted out from the speakers of the jukebox, the old machine blinking to life with Dean’s influence.

It was downright crazy to Dean how much had changed in such a short amount of time. Not too long ago, he was right here with Cas, doing this exact same thing. It was just as heart-skippingly nerve-wracking as it was the last time, but now… now they were a hair-width away from being chest to chest, swaying together on the spot to the calming music as opposed to the more spacious, somewhat awkward half-step dance as before.

And this time… Dean took in the loving smile that was being directed at him, and he could say that now. That look Castiel had reserved just for him was one of love, and the fact that it’s for him? It’s mindboggling, it’s more than he could ever deserve – and the best part? He can love him back. He can lean down, remove that few inches of space between them, and press his lips to Cas. He can do that now, and if that can’t get a smile out of him, then what will?

“Wherever you go…” Dean’s voice is raspy, and yet gentle as he sings to Castiel, sung in a hushed tone in the peaceful space between then. “Whatever you do. I will be right here waiting for you…”

Dean would be blind to say the soft smile on Cas’s face didn’t have a twinge of sadness to it at his words, his grip on Dean’s hip and shoulder tightening as he sang. He had been planning to be… well, to be Dean Winchester. The Dean Winchester that would be all jokey with Castiel in a moment like this, singing a mopey love song in a ‘stereotypical trashed forty-year-old guy at karaoke’ voice to try and get a laugh out of him. Now, as they held each other in the dim lights of the bar… that version of himself had been sedated.

“I really thought we’d found the answer,” Dean says, one of his hands slipping up Cas’s neck, his thumb gently brushing over his pulse point. “That Rowena would be able to do something. But now it all feels like… like it was the last chance… Now I’ve got no more ideas, and I don’t know what to do, Cas. I don’t know how to save you, I-,”

Dean closes his eyes at the burning he felt building, causing a tear to slip out from under his closed eyelid. He shakes his head at the choking sensation in his throat, pulling Cas forward by his neck until their foreheads met. There they both stood, eyes closed as they swayed to their own music, comforted by the warmth of each other held so close.

“I know…” Castiel’s words were meant to be one of assurance, but they were more like sympathy. Building upon the fact that he had long since accepted his fate. Which is perhaps why a few more tears escape Dean’s closed lids, trailing down his cheek, clung to his skin as a painful reminder of why they were there.

“I don’t want to lose you…” Dean’s whisper is broken and harsh, the voice of a man fighting hard to keep the tears out of his voice.

The sound is enough for the dam in Castiel to break, the last of the angel's defenses crumbling down at the raw pain he could hear from the one he loves. “And I don’t want to leave you,” Castiel whispers against his lips, tasting the salt of Dean’s tears as he places a delicate kiss there. “But there’s not much else we can do now than what we’re already doing, and… to hope.”

And so, in the silence of Dean’s bar, Dean holds Castiel tight. He lets his angel hold him just as close, sharing their mutual grief over what could have been, of the time they could have spent together.

They dance.

And they hope. They hope that this dance won't be their last.

Next Chapter - - ->

[dreamescapeswriting]

Masquerade Ball ~ Kim Taehyung X Reader

Word Count: 4,734

Genre: MafiaAu || Cute || Hints of Violence, death, and Smut

Summary: You’re a big secret in the Mafia world, you run your own Mafia business and so does Taehyung…being from two different Mafia families and wanting to marry is a big no no so when Namjoon, the biggest Mafia owner of them all, finds out you’ve secretly been together, it doesn’t go so well.

A/N: I STILL SUCK AT SUMMARIES

Ice pick. That’s what people called you, it was a stupid nickname and you hated it but it did do its job. It made people fear you, which in your line of work was perfect. You were in the Mafia business, you’d been in the Mafia business since your father passed it down to you, many weren’t happy with the crossover from your father to you, but you didn’t care. You didn’t have to prove yourself to anyone if they doubted you they would soon regret it. Your father raised you to be a badass who didn’t take shit from anyone. There was one of your dad’s men who decided to challenge you when you first took over, it didn’t end well for him and it’s where your nickname originated from. You tortured him for three days long, not just because he doubted you but because he’d tried to betray you, attempted to run off to another family with inside information and everyone knew that was a big no, no, but you tortured him with an ice pick, finally killing him at the end of the three days with the same ice pick, after that no one bothered to try and judge you again. You wouldn’t stand for it.

The nickname had some pro’s to it, no one outside of your Mafia family knew who you were, no one knew who your father passed the family down to, he kept you a secret as a child, you were sent away to a private school and when you were home on holidays no one knew who you were thanks to living in a mansion with high security and high walls, you were the secret weapon for your father. Trained since you were old enough to walk and talk on how to run the family business, taking care of the drug runs and protection which is what you specialised in. “We have an event coming up and I can’t have you fucking it up.” You ordered sitting in your office and looking at one of the new guards you’d hired, you had mascarade ball to go to, it was a big charity event going down and you were being hired to look after an old tiara people were bidding on. It was some expensive antique that they charity were selling, people in your family weren’t happy you were protecting a charity event but this is something you cared about, you stole from the rich to give to charities and you sold drugs for money for yourself and those around you, you didn’t need to be greedy about everything. “We won’t fuck it up.” One of the guards named Justin said to you, kicking his legs up onto your desk with a smirk on his lips, he was one of the cocky ones that worked for you, you couldn’t fire him because your dad handpicked him, you sent him a fake smile, leaning forward on the desk to look at him, his eyes darting straight to your chest, you were wearing a low cut top and you wanted nothing more than to smack him for looking at you like that. “Justin. You’re one of the biggest fuck ups in this room.” You grunted pushing his feet off the desk and going back to explaining the plan for the entire night again. “I need Justin and Damien on the tiara at all times, you’re not to leave that case all night, do I make myself clear?” You questioned turning your attention to Justin again who was nodding, then to Damien who was nodding along as well. “Good, I’ll be on the floor all night. They think someone will come for it that night, so we’ll all be armed.” You reminded them, sitting down in your desk chair and relaxing against the cool leather. “Go Home, get some rest and I’ll call you in two days to get ready for it. Justin.” You said stopping him from leaving the room, everyone else all gone. “Get a nice suit, I don’t want you turning up in a tracksuit, we have to make it look like we’re fitting in. Remember no one knows who I am, so it’ll be easy for me to fit in but because your dumb ass likes attention,” You started, getting up from the chair and walking over to him, you patted his back. “And got caught by two different families means they know you, so keep your head down and look like you’re supposed to be there.” You order, shoving him out of the room and going into your bedroom down the end of the hall, relaxing as soon as you heard the front door shut and lock on its own. “Fucking idiots.” You groaned going over to your wardrobe and opening it, you needed to get changed for bed. It had been a long day of explaining the plan to a bunch of morons who didn’t understand why you wanted to do what you were doing, not that they should be questioning your orders anyway, it was their job to do whatever you told them to do, no questions asked or answered. If you wanted something doing it was to be done, end of discussion.

“Justin if you’ve forgotten something you can come back tomorrow.” You groaned into the intercom, he was standing at your front door, ringing the doorbell repeatedly, it was gone midnight and all you wanted to do was sleep, “Please, I just need to grab my jacket.” You groaned going out of the bedroom and down the stairs to unlock the front door, he came bursting in through the door and was holding up a gun to your head. “Justin, what are you doing?” You questioned looking at him, but he kept it aimed at you, “Knees!” He screamed at you, you got down onto your knees and stared at him, he had a weird look in his eyes, the crazy look. “If this for calling you dumb, it was a joke.” You weren’t scared of him, or the gun. You just wanted to show you were willing to co-operate with him, you didn’t see the point in getting shot for nothing. “Just shut up!” He yelled, his eyes were wide now and he reached into his back pocket taking out a fabric bag and handing it to you. “Put it on!” You nodded putting the bag over your head and wishing that you took your dad’s advice for going to sleep with a gun. You never thought someone would show up in the middle of the night to take you, it was insane. You felt Justin begin to tie your wrists behind your back and you knew he’d put the gun down. “Who’s paying you to do this? Whatever they’re paying I’ll triple it.” You offered but ignored you, dragging you up from the floor and out of the front door, your bare feet touching the concrete. “Shut up, just shut up. You’re not talking your way out of this.” He ordered you heard a car door open and then you were shoved against the seats on his car and it slammed behind you.

You were thrown against the floor and the bag was ripped from over your head, stood in front of you was Taehyung, everyone in the Mafia world knew him, he was one of the big ones in town.   “Who’s this? I asked for Ice Pick, surely you know your boss and not his girlfriend?” You were helped up from the floor by one of the guards in the room and Justin was pushed down instead. “I’m sorry for any inconvenience this bone head might have caused you,” Taehyung said turning to look at you and untying your hands, you rubbed where the ropes had started to burn your skin, there were red marks across them too, “He is a bone head, but he’s brought, you the right person.  I am, ice pick.” All eyes were back on you and a gun was being aimed at you by a guard. “I’ve already had this one point a gun at me, just tell me what you want.”  You said, walking over to a chair in front of the main desk and sitting down, Taehyung wanted to smile at the cockiness you were showing. You were confident even though you’d been taking from your own home. “Well Justin did his job he can leave.” You said looking at Justin who was staring at you, you were mad at him but weren’t going to show him that just yet, you’d wait for the right time to kick his ass for this. “You’re pretty confident for someone who’s been kidnapped.”  Taehyung excused everyone in the room and sat down in front of you, you stared at him. “Kidnapped? Is that what we’re calling it now?” You smirked leaning against his desk now that everyone was gone, he smiled back at you, leaning across the table and kissing your lips. “You’ve got interesting foreplay baby.” You teased, Taehyung was your boyfriend. You’d been together for two years now, secretly together. No one wanted the two different families to merge but you and Taehyung were in love, you’d been in love since you were little kids, growing up down the road from one another, going to the same school and same playdates, he sat back against his chair and looked at you. “You’ve been selling in my zones, normally it wouldn’t be a problem but you’ve been selling in my zones without payments to me.” You stared at him, was he being serious right now. Normally he wouldn’t care about that sort of stuff. “That’s it? I owe you money?” He nodded and you leant forward to stare at him. “You could have just asked me Tae instead of getting Justin to take me at 12 am…” You said with a smirk on your face, you looked around the office and spotted a mini bar so you went over and made yourself and him a drink, you’d done this many times before, on secret meetings, you didn’t talk about business on those though, usually, there wasn’t a lot of talking when you met up. Another reason you both kept the relationship a secret was because people would see you as a weakness for one another, and take it upon themselves to take one of you out. “He told me about your little night at the charity event, he’s a snitch if you pay him enough, not good for your family business.”  You put the glass down on the desk and slid him one, pouring scotch into each glass and sitting down again, he was right. Justin was bad for business but you had to keep him around.   “And what? You know I’m involved in the protection business, I didn’t think I had to tell you about everything I did,” You stated, sitting back down in the chair and drinking from your glass, he drank from his own. “You don’t, but I have to be there that night,” You stared at him, waiting for him to continue with his point of the conversation. “I can’t promise the deal will go down smoothly…if you’re there I can’t protect you.”  You scoffed shaking your head at him, it clearly wasn’t his reason. “What’s the real reason?” He smirked, you knew him too well and he loved that sometimes but right now he hated it. “I’m afraid I won’t be able to keep my hands off you all night.” You sighed, you both wanted to tell people about your relationship, not even anyone in your guards knew you were together, it was hard to be around each other when you couldn’t be together. “I’ll be in disguise all night, no one knows me anyway.” You mentioned getting up and walking to his side of the desk, maybe you could sneak off together in the night and have a secret dance, you sat down on his lap and looked into his eyes. “If the plan goes south…You have to stay out of the way.” You bit down on your lip, you knew where this was going. He was going to tell you what he had to do that night, “You’re taking the tiara aren’t you?” He sheepishly nodded and you sighed getting off him and looking at the wall in front of his desk. Your plans had never intertwined this badly before, he took your wrist in his hand and looked at you, leaving a kiss on your skin. “I have to, it’s for Namjoon, you know what his Mafia is like if they don’t get what they ask for,” You knew all too well, Namjoon almost killed your father when he failed to kill someone he wanted killing. Sure you and Taehyung were one of the biggest Mafia families but Namjoon’s family, The Angels, we the top dogs. The biggest ones in Seoul, the ones that owned everything. “Just stay out of the way when it all goes down and there won’t be a problem.”  You bit down on your lip, getting mad at the fact that he was telling you to throw your night away. “Tae…I’m being paid to protect the tiara…if it goes missing under my care what does that say about my business?” He knew you were right but you also knew he couldn’t stop what he had to do for Namjoon, you sighed looking back at him and sitting on his lap once again. “I’ll stay out of the way…please stay safe.” You whispered to him,  kissing him on the lips, leaning your head on his forehead and looking him in the eyes, he chuckled, wrapping his arms around your waist and smiling. “I’m always safe.” You punched him playfully in the arm and getting off his lap. “I should go home, I have to pamper for the next two days if I’m going to look good on Saturday.”  You smirked, you knew he hated the fact that you were going to be dressing up and not just for him. “What are you wearing?”  He questioned getting up from his chair, you turned to face the door and smirked, you could tease him some more. “You’ll see on Saturday night, just hope it isn’t too short.”  He growled pushing your front down onto the desk, you were bent over you ass exposed in the PJ shorts you were wearing, his hand ran along the exposed skin. “No one is allowed to see what’s mine.” He growled in your ear, you smirked biting down on your lip and moved your hips a little, you loved pushing him over the edge and making him mad. “But no one knows it’s yours though.” His lips moved from your ear to your neck, kissing and sucking against the skin, you hissed a little. “Maybe I should leave my mark.”  A sharp smack hit across your ass and you moaned out, giggling a little as he ground his hips into your ass. “You’re fucking mine.” He growled, smacking you again before yanking your shorts down and pulling down his jeans.

The dress was a long tight fitted black ball gown, a sweetheart neckline that exposed your chest and made your breasts look bigger, you knew it would tease Tae over the edge, he hated when your skin was exposed like this, you had a black and silver mascarade mask to cover your face for the night, Taehyung told you he would be wearing a pure black mask with an all-black suit, he wanted to keep his eye out for you but you kept your dress and mask a secret from him. “You look amazing.” He whispered from behind you, you were standing near the entrance hall, your back to him so you could see everyone who was entering the hall, Justin was locked up in your house, you didn’t want him blabbing about your trip to see Taehyung that he organised and it’s not as if Tae’s men were going to start running their mouths, they knew better than that, so Damien was alone with the tiara, it was safely inside a glass casing but not for long and you knew that. “You look better.” You whispered, not looking in his direction, you knew if you looked at him you would want to start kissing him and never stop, “You covered my marks,” You could already tell from the sound of his voice he was pouting, you felt his fingers run along your neck where the heavy-duty foundation was covering the deep purple marks from the night you spent together. “I had no choice since Justin is such a snitch. Didn’t want him running to Namjoon with our little secret love affair now did I?” He grumbled something that you didn’t hear so you went to move away but he gripped onto your wrist, “I’ll make them harder to cover next time.” You smirked at his words, he always kept his threats as promises. “See you then baby,” You whispered back to him going over to Damien to check on him. You had no idea how the night was going to go down but you knew it was going to be a bad one for anyone who got in Taehyung and his crew’s way, they were ruthless. “Damien, you know you’re one of my best right?” You said, trying not to sound sentimental, nothing should happen to him, Tae was trying to make sure of it but there was no promises, no promises in anything you were involved in. Everyone knew it was a life or death situation, no two ways about it. “I know boss, don’t worry. I won’t let you down.” You nodded and left him alone, going to find a bathroom to cool down in, you were almost at the women’s bathroom when a hand gripped your wrist and pulled you along a hallway and up a flight upstairs. “Tae, no.” You giggled as he rushed you up and into an office, he slammed and locked the door behind you, you walked further in and saw a glass window looking down at the entire bottom floor, you could see Damien watching the tiara closely. “Is he going to die?” You questioned, Tae was standing behind you, his hands on your waist and his lips on your neck, you rolled your head back in pleasure and moaned, “We’re not here to talk business.” He whispered, his hands running up and down your spine as he sucked on your neck, your eyes fluttered shut and you turned around to face him, you ran your hands up untied the back of his mask, he did the same to you and you smiled up at him. “Then why are we here? We have a job to do.” You attached your lips to his neck, sucking on the skin and smirking as he groaned out your name. “We’re staying out of the way.” He spun you around to face the window again and pressed your body against it, you hissed as the cold glass hit the exposed top of your breasts and he chuckled leaning down and whispering in your ear. “What’s stopping me from taking you right here and right now.” He growled, you whimpered under his touch, his fingers playing with the laces of your corset cut top, you wanted him to, you wanted him to take you right there and then, have you screaming out his name, fingers scratching down his back, pressed against the glass for everyone to see but you knew you couldn’t. The wrong people could find out and you’d be in deep shit. “Tae we can’t.” He moved away from you and you wanted to cry out from the loss of his touch, you straightened yourself back up, you were about to say something when there was a gunshot downstairs, “Down!” He yelled grabbing your arm and yanking you onto the floor, you looked around and saw the glass to the window had been shot through, people on the ground floor were screaming out and you heard men yelling. “That your guys?” You whispered looking over the glass and down to where Damien was stood, he was gone now and the tiara was gone as well, meaning Tae’s guys had done what they’d come to do. “Tae?” You looked around and he was leaning against a desk, hand holding onto his abdomen, your eyes scanned down and his once white shirt was dripping in blood. “Tae!” You screamed rushing over to him and pulling his shirt open, he began chuckling as you did so, your hands rushing to the bullet wound of his side, you pushed your hands down onto him. “If you wanted me shirtless baby all you had to do was ask.” You ignored him, taking out your phone from your bra and trying to dial for help, but the blood was stopping you. “Fuck sake.” You grumbled the door was booted open and in walked Namjoon and two goons behind him. “Taehyung!” He yelled with a laugh in his voice, you looked at him and he looked at you, you’d never met with him face to face before and you knew you owed him money for selling in his areas but right now that didn’t matter. “Who are you?” You ignored him, keeping your pressure on Taehyung’s skin and trying to keep him alive, he was bleeding too much now. “I’m no one, can you call for help please.” You pleaded, your eyes welling up with the thought of Taehyung dying here. Namjoon nodded and his men and they left the room, “They’ll get some help here,” He threw a belt down to you and you tightened it around the wound and hissed as Taehyung groaned out in pain. “I can’t have one of my best dying on me now can I?” Namjoon chuckled looking at Taehyung who was avoiding eye contact with him, “Where’s Ice Pick, I thought he was supposed to be here tonight,” Namjoon questioned going over to the window, you kept your eyes on Taehyung who was looking at you, his hands gripping onto your wrists. “Don’t leave me.” He pleaded to you, you nodded, tears in your eyes as you looked back into his, “I’m not going anywhere. Stay with me Tae, you can’t die.” You whispered to him trying to ignore Namjoon who’s eyes were back on you again. “Marry me…Marry me, if I survive…Marry me.” He pleaded to you, now it was as if Namjoon wasn’t in the room anymore, your eyes landed on Taehyungs and you nodded. “I’ll marry you, no if, about it, I’ll marry you right here right now.” You giggled to him, he smiled weakly as you and you kissed his lips, Namjoon came over and looked at you both. “I love you Tae, I don’t care if I lose my dad’s business, you’re the only thing that matters to me.” “Ice pick?” You looked around at Namjoon, his gun was aimed at you now and his goons were back with a paramedic, you were pulled off Taehyung and Namjoon dragged you to the broken window, pointing out Damien who was laying on the floor, dead. “Your men aren’t shit.” He threw you down onto your knees and you groaned as the glass cut through the fabric of your dress and into your knees. “You know families aren’t allowed to merge without my saying so.” You ignored him, your eyes going over to Taehyung who was being stitched up by a paramedic who was looking my nervous about the situation. “Then this is me asking for your permission.” Namjoon ragged you up by your hair and made you face Taehyung who was half out of it by now, his head swaying back and forth. “He’s on death’s door, you’re gonna marry him?” You nodded, wriggling from his grasp and going over to Taehyung, “I’ll pay you triple a month, ten times, I don’t care Namjoon…let him live and let me marry him.” Another paramedic came into the room wheeling a bed, Taehyung was put on it and you were held back by Namjoon. “If I let you marry him what does that say about me?” You watched as the bed went out of sight and you felt tears in your eyes again, you knew this wasn’t going to end well. “I let you off just like that? You owe me a lot of money girly, you’ve been late with payments, you’ve been selling in my zones, and now I find out you’ve been fucking Taehyung and planning to marry him…” You nodded and he chuckled shaking his head at you, he liked that you had a cocky attitude but now was not the time and place to act like that. “No. Not happening, you get a punishment, just like he got.” A blade was pulled from his pocket and you knew what was coming, no one got away with hiding anything from Namjoon. There had to be consequences or people would walk all over him. “Do it.” You said with no fear in your voice whatsoever, you weren’t scared of him. Of anyone. “Everyone will know your weakness…that you’re ice pick. Is that what you want?” He quizzed, the blade running along the line of your neck and down to the top of your spine. “If it means I can be with Tae then Yes.” You answered him, he chuckled taking in a deep breath before plunging the blade into your side, the opposite side to where Taehyung had been shot, you groaned out as he pulled it out. “Get her to a paramedic.” He ordered throwing you into the arms of one of his men and leaving the room.

You ran your fingers along Tae’s knuckles, you were sat in the chair beside his hospital bed, your wound was taken care of easily but Tae’s was a little harder, the bullet entered and exited his body and the paramedic who stitched him up did a botched job, so he was now laid up in bed in a coma. “Tae you gotta wake up now.” You mumbled looking at him, you’d paid for the biggest hospital room, one with a chair that reclined into a bed so you didn’t have to leave his side. “Making me nervous here.” You whispered leaning back in the chair and looking over some paperwork, you’d just bought out the auction house that was shot up during the charity evening, you were giving it to Namjoon so he could grow his drugs in ease, his last place was found by the cops so you figured it would be a goodwill gesture. “You’re giving him a building he almost killed us in?” You almost dropped the pen at the sound of Taehyung’s morning voice coming from nowhere. “Shit Tae.” You giggled getting off the chair and hugging him, he looked at the papers still and you pulled them over to him. “A goodwill gesture you know…for allowing us to get married.” You tucked hair behind your ear and he sighed, kissing your neck and then taking the papers, ripping them up and throwing them into the nearby bin. “He’s not having the place I asked you to marry me in…We’ll do it up and we’ll live there. Make it into our own home.” He moved over in the bed and you got in next to him, he kissed your jawline. It was his way of trying to be romantic, converting the building he almost died in, into a family home. “So what did I miss?” He questioned, moving hair from beside your neck and kissing it. “Nothing much, Damien died, Justin, I killed for being a stitch…that and I needed to take my anger out on someone.” He chuckled hearing you admit that to him and you looked at him. “You meant it though…Do you want to marry me? I didn’t get stabbed for no reason?” He chuckled at you and nodded. “I want to spend the rest of my life with you.” He admitted, kissing along your collarbone and pulling you into his chest. He never wanted to let you go, he wanted you by his side always, merging two families together to rule side by side as a bigger and better Mafia duo.

[midnight-writ3r]

Bad for you pt.3

Mark Lee x Genderneutral reader

Inspired by: Idk I have intense straight feelings for Mark Lee ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ

Summary: Just when you think Mark has left your life for good, he appears at your window, with a black rose in hand and a startling request on his tongue.

Genre: Fluff, mystery, strangers to lovers

A/N: He is back!! The bad boy from the window is back! And he is ready to sweep you off your feet! (I´m sorry, this is really all over the place and I have no idea where I´m going with it, but I just really wanted this piece of self-indulgence…)

<– Previous part

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

A couple of days, filled with University, your job at a close-by diner and Donghyuck´s whining in your ear, pass by. There is never a sound from Mark, so you guess that Donghyuck´s worries had been ill-founded in the end. After all, it seems like you´re not going to be seeing the handsome boy again, any time soon. Belatedly you realize, you don´t even have his number, so even if you wanted to, there would have been no way for you to contact him.

Good for Donghyuck. Your best friend had been worried sick, repeating his little lecture from that day over and over again, until he deemed you might have understood. It´s not your fault, really. You had always been drawn to the mysterious – the dangerous. Mark was the embodiment of that and, beyond the surface, maybe even more.

Well, you would never find out now, since your chance has passed you by. After another tiring morning, filled with lectures, you unlock your apartment door, to stumble inside. A yawn breaks through your lips and you decide that a nap before work might be a wise idea. Shouldn´t have stayed up reading that shitty romance novel all night. And it didn´t even have a good final. What a waste of time.

Discarding your bag at the door, you shrug off your jacket and change into sweats and a shirt. In the middle of rubbing your eye and heading for the call of your bed, you suddenly pick up a soft sound. A knock, you realize. But not on your door, no, rather your window.

With wide, slightly terrified eyes, you turn to look at your large window. Who you find there takes your breath for a short moment. Mark is peaking through the glass, clad in a black hoodie and a dumb smirk on his lips. Slowly, you feel your features shift into a disbelieving expression, whether at his audacity, or the sheer possibility of him being back, you don´t know. Either way, you hurry towards the window and open it up. Before you can utter a word, there is a rose in your face. Not a regular one: a black one.

“Is this your way of telling me you´re back from the dead?” You point at the rose, “Black for death and mourning?”

Pursing his lips, Mark gives the flower a glance, as if really seeing it for the first time, “Well, black roses also stand for the beginning of new things, so…” there is a tug at his lips, “I was hoping you could give me a chance for beginning new things…?”

You´re only able to keep up your dead-pan expression for a few heartbeats, before snorting and stepping aside, “Get inside here. If you can´t use the entrance door, like a regular person, at least don´t stand around in the rain.”

Eager like a child, Mark climbs inside next to you. Only when he brushes past you, close enough for you to smell traces of smoke and the cologne he used, do you see the slight teint on his face. It´s shaped like a flower, quite similar to the one in your hand, but it doesn´t quite harbour the same beauty. You reach out on instinct, really not thinking about it, and he flinches softly, when your fingers make contact with the bruise on his cheekbone.

“What happened to you?” You mutter, unsure of whether you really want to hear the answer.

He shakes his head, slightly dripping, black hair waving with the movement, “It´s nothing. Got into a fight.”

You try a gentle smile, but it must look wobbly at best, “Seems like you´re making quite the habit out of that.”

“Seems like it”, His hand is warm and rough against yours, as he pulls it away form his face, “Don´t worry okay? The thing… everything´s settled. I´m okay now.”

You don´t even know why you cared in the first place. Mark and you aren´t connected by anything more than a night of desires and bodily closure. Hell, you don´t even know his surname! Or his favourite band, his hobbies, what he does with his life, any of the things you would usually care about. All you have to think of, when he comes to your mind in the evenings, is that cocky little smile and the big eyes that seem to clash with everything else. Innocence. Donghyuck would call it crush culture.

But that´s stupid, so you ignore it.

“Take those drenched shoes off, I´m not gonna wash up your mess.” You chide, as you walk towards the bathroom. There should still be a tube of healing cream somewhere within your cabinets, so you shuffle through all the contents, while you listen to Mark stumble around and take off his boots. You frown. You could have sworn there was a tube right here somewhere.

“Whatcha looking for?” You jolt softly, when hot breath hits your ear. Mark´s frame is pressed tight against your back, personal space not a necessity anymore. Well, of course, why would personal space be a worry to him, when you have literally seen each other naked? Shaking your head, you finally make out the little thing you had been looking for an turn around to push at his chest. He watches you curiously, as you set him down on the closed toilet-seat and unscrew the healing cream. 

“I don´t know if it helps.” You explain, spreading the white cream over his bruise, “Hell, if these things have an expiration date, that´s probably crossed already.”

His gaze turns soft and there is a smile tugging on his lips, “Thank you, Y/N.”

“Don´t thank me.” You huff, “Thank whatever angel is watching over you, that you didn´t end up in a hospital. Why do you go around beating up people anyways?”

Clearing his throat, Mark averts his eyes down to his fingers in his lap, “There was a disagreement. They didn´t want to, uh… They didn´t want to keep with the deal we made.”

“Must have been an important one, if you thought it was worth risking your health.” You know there is a line that shouldn´t be crossed, somewhere around this conversation. But it´s blurry and Mark isn´t giving you any signals to stop asking. All there is, is the mystery he decides to paint around himself and, while it´s enticing, you also find it worrying.

“It was. But I don´t expect you to understand my rationale.” Sniffing, he gets to his feet. There is a different expression on his face now; something achingly close to exhaution, “Thanks for patching me up with your Stone Age cream.”

You can´t help but laugh at that and as he chimes in, you don´t have the heart to be stern with him anymore. Like a puppy, he follows you back into the living room, where you direct towards the kitchen. After asking Mark, if he prefers coffee or tea, you make two cups of hot cocoa for both of you. It´s strange, to see him shuffle at the kitchen counter, looking around with wide eyes and looking so out of place in his all-black attire. You love to decorate your apartment in soft, slightly pastel colours and there is a lot of light, streaming in through the large windows. In the midst of it all, Mark sticks out like a sore thumb.

Just like he does with the rest of your normal life.

When both of you hold a steaming cup in your hands and the silence has gone on for too long, you finally push yourself to ask the question that has been sitting on your mind: “Mark? Why are you really here?”

“What do you mean?” He asks.

“That ‘beginning new things’ shit was very cute and poetic, but I don´t buy it.” You explain, setting the cup down, “I thought we were just a hook-up. You were dead silent for days and that after disappearing in a really strange way and now… now you´re here, climbing in through my window with your face beaten up.”

Taking a tiny sip of his drink, Mark shrugs, “So?”

“I just wanna know your intentions. So I can brace myself.” Admitting that, seems to surprise you almost as much as him.

“I don´t understand”, You think he does, with the slight hurt that plays behind the stoic mask he is trying to keep in place, “Brace yourself? What for. What do you expect me to do?”

Taking a deep breath, you say: “Donghyuck told me a couple of things.” Immediately, annoyance takes over Mark´s features and you watch his fingers tighten around his cup, “It was all vague as hell, but he´s my best friend, so I listen to him. I´m not someone to judge based on the words of others…” You sigh, try not to stumble over your words and end up saying something you don´t want to say, “I think you´re really cute. I just… don´t wanna get tangled in trouble.”

That leaves the other boy stunned for a long while. You understand of course, that was quite a bomb to drop on him. But, you hadn´t lied. Taking precautions now, is just something you need to do, to avoid getting hurt later. You know yourself, know that Mark is just the kind you´d fall for, if you got invested. But you also know that the kind you fall for isn´t always reliable.

When he runs a hand through his hair, muscles flexing under his shirt, you try to ignore the strange jump of your heart, “I guess you have every right to be…” He hesitates, “…wary.” You smile shyly, staring down at your cup, “I´m gonna be honest with you, I need to lay low somewhere for a while.”

Your eyes zoom up, to gape at him, “Lay low? What the heck did you get yourself into?”

“It´s really not as bad as it sounds. It happened before, I just need to get away from my apartment for a while.” He sighs, rubbing his eyes with his palms.

You can´t help, but scoff. Is this guy serious? “And you come here for that?”

“Yes”, If you didn´t know better, you´d think he is just as frustrated with himself as you are, when he shoves himself away from the counter and stomps towards your window. You watch him pace back and forth for a minute, before the short-lived anger leaves his tense shoulders again. Suddenly, he looks smaller, a little frail almost, “I didn´t know where else to go.”

That makes you think for a brief second. If you allow yourself to look past the barricade of prejudice Donghyuck´s words had drawn in your mind, you find something you didn´t expect; A boy. A lonely boy. Who has no people he can trust, except this one stranger he had helped out at a club. You sigh, thinking back to the sensation of comfort he had given you that night. The reason you had allowed yourself to get drawn into his orbit and tug him into a kiss. The reason you had thought it to be okay to pull him into your apartment and spend the night together. Never once, had it occured to you that maybe, you had been able to give him the same sensation back.

“So what, you thought you could just show up here and stay a few days?” You tease him, no real bite to your voice. He still looks unsure, so all you get is a meek shrug. You snort, not believing yourself, when you say: “Well, congratulations, it worked. But you pay for groceries, I´m not your mom.”

“A-Are you serious?” You have to hold back a laugh at the look he gives you.

“Deadly.” You round the kitchen counter and pinch his chin. He scrunches his nose up in a cute fashion, “But you´re taking the couch.”

For the first time, there is a small grin tugging on his lips and you roll your eyes, when his hands settle around your waist, “You don´t think you could use the company?”

“You are literally impossible.” He makes a startled noise, when you press you palm flat into his face and push him away. It makes you laugh, the way he can look so silly, while still giving off a sort of dangerous aura. Yeah, so maybe it makes him a tiny bit irresistible, you don´t have to let him know. With a new-found ease in your steps, you collect your cup again and fall onto your couch, “You still haven´t told me what was important enough to throw hands.”

He shuffles a little, until he sits down on the floor. His legs crossed and elbows propped on his knees, Mark throws a contemplative look out of the window, “There are just some things that are bigger than me, you know?”

“Bigger?”

“More relevant.” Mark says this with so much certainty, you feel your heart sore for a moment. In your opinion, nothing should be more important to Mark than himself, but at the same time you think you understand the sentiment. “You know, the sort of things that you´d be nothing without. In the grand scheme of things, you might rather not live at all, than live without them.”

The serious nature of the conversation takes you so aback, you have nothing left, but to stare at the boy in front of you for a moment. He doesn´t look back at you, seems hesitant. Probably, because he isn´t sure if he has said too much. You could imagine him feeling the need to walk on eggshells around you, now that you allowed him to stay. A fleeting generosity that not even you, yourself had expected.

However, there is also a part in you that wants to make clear to him that he has nothing to fear. A part that wants to tell him that he can trust you.

“I know what you mean.” You mutter, “Comes with caring a lot, I guess.”

At that, Mark finally looks back at you and you´re almost certain you have said the right, “Do you have things like that?”

You hum, staring through the steam of your cup, “I guess my family. My parents can be a pain in the neck, but at the end of the day, they have given me everything I needed to be who I am today. Living without them… I´m not sure I could imagine that.” A small grin tugs at your lips, “And admittedly, also Donghyuck. The boy is a whole thunderstorm, but he held me when I cried, carried me when I was black-out drunk and celebrated all of my success. He´s like a brother to me. I think, if things came down to it, I´d give him everything.”

Mark looks at you, as you speak, his eyes gentle. There is a smile on his lips, too, as if he enjoys hearing you talk about the people who mean so much to you. As if he is happy, you have those people. A small lump builds in your throat and you ignore the urge to wrap your arms around him. It would be nice to have him close enough, to have his scent around you again. You remember a certain sweetness, beyond his cologne. Especially when you had woken up the morning after, with his bare body pressed against yours.

The memory fills your cheeks with warmth, so you distract yourself by asking: “What are your special things?”

For a moment, it almost looks like he hadn´t heard you, because he just stares at you for a long stretch of silence. He is contemplating, you realize. Contemplating, how much he can tell you.

“Do you want me to show you?”

Your eyebrows lift, “Uh… okay?”

“Go get your jacket”, he prompts, pushing to his feet. A little dazed, you comply, not entirely sure how you have gotten yourself into this current situation. However, when you watch him head for the window, clad in his leather jacket once again, you snap out of it.

“Can we at least use the door this time?”

-*- FIN -*-

[damn-stark]

Child of Ren Ch.2

A/N- We have Rey in this chapter ayye!! I hope you guys like it :) Leave your thoughts!!

Warning- Its a long chapter, violence, light swearing, mentions of physical abuse.

Pairing- Poe Dameron x Reader x Rey , Kylo Ren x Reader (Platonic)

Takes place- after TLJ & before TROS

(Let me know if you want to be tagged)

—

“What happened?” You ask the Pilot so nonchalantly, pretending you didn’t know he had the map in his hand and that you were going to get it.

You knew he wasn’t going to let you take it easily; but for these couple of seconds, you were going to continue to pretend that you didn’t know anything, you were just going to go along with the fact that you didn’t have your helmet on, that you weren’t the Child of Ren. Just for a couple of seconds, before you had to be her again, before you had to blow this building up and everyone inside it for betraying the first order, before you had to fight for the map, and even if you really didn’t want too, before you had to kill him.

“Bad negotiations, man was an ass.” He answered, looking back and glaring at the building as if expecting the man he was talking about to be in front of him.

“Hmm, yeah I’ve had my share of bad negotiations too, usually I just kick their ass though,” or kill them but that’s beside the point.

He let out a chuckle at your comment, turning back to look at you. You take a step a closer to him, your eyes flickering to the drive in his hand, before looking back at him. “You look like you’re a honest man, though, so.” You continue, batting your eyelashes, before noticing that he got a cocky grin on his lips.

“Yeah, well he wasn’t.” His droid chirped something to him but the Pilot seemed to have ignored him, as he continued to look at you as you got closer to him. “I’m Poe. Poe Dameron.” You grin at his introduction, taking one last step closer to him, now only being inches away from him. You expect him to back away but he stays in place, looking down at you with a small smile. Soon though your grin turns into a smirk.

“I don’t care.”

You sneer sharply, before kneeing him in the stomach making him fold forward as he grabbed onto his injured area, letting out a pained grunt. You then grab his hand to try and take the drive but his grip on it is tight, so, instead you elbow his face making him loosen his hold, and letting you take the drive before kicking him back, and throwing an explosive to the building and sprinting away.

The loud boom from the exploding building sends people in a frantic state, making you shove past them as you tried to make it to your ship. You look over your shoulder to see the pilot—Poe, already trying to catch up to you, but he did it in a more careful manner, not compared to you, who didn’t really care for the other people. In a quick motion you tap the screen on your bracelet to try and prepare your ship, but you swerve your body to the side, barely avoiding the blast that was meant to hit you.

You peek over your shoulder to see Poe, hot on your heels; so instead you jump up to the transparisteel platform above. You grab onto the edge of the platform and as you’re about to push yourself up, you’re met with a sharp pain caused by the little orange and white droid, that makes you loosen your grip and fall back to the ground where Poe was. You groan loudly and feel the drive get ripped out of your hand.

“Sorry.” Poe taunted sarcastically, waving the drive in your face before walking away. You let out a small growl as you pushed yourself up, ignoring the growing pain all over your body and the back of your head where you had been hurt previously. Your eyes search frantically as you notice that he’s nowhere to be seen, that is until you see him running on the platform below. Immediately and to not loose track of him, you chase after him, jumping over the edge and capturing him in your arms.

He lets out loud oof, followed by curse “What the hell,” not at all expecting your actions, his droid then chirps or maybe even curses, in surprise calling you crazy as you landed on his master. You both tumble down some stairs until finally coming to a stop, with him landing on top of you with a perplexed look; but you can see the faintest smirk on his face.

You shoot him an icy glare before swiftly rolling him on his back, pining him down with your knee on his throat, while with your other leg you pressed down harshly on his wrist with the bottom of your boot. “You’re cute, I might have just let you gotten away with it.” You tell him with a feigned smile as you take the drive from his hand.

He smiles through his pain as you press harder down on his throat. “Bold.” He strains. You give his wrist one last hard press before you pull your leg away from his throat. As you’re about to move away from him you’re thrown back by a stun blast.

You curse loudly at the impact, “Shit.” Followed by a loud groan as you hit the back your head again, this time taking a minute to lay on the floor as you felt more pain than before, only intensifying as you heard Poe and someone else bickering, and it only got painfully and annoyingly louder as they begin to approach you.

“Maybe she’s dead?” You hear a deep voice say, and as you shoot up you identify the unknown voice as the Traitor’s. Before you pull out your blaster rifle, you shove the drive into your pant pocket; both men then stop, raising their hands as you aimed your blaster at them.

“I’m not, but you’re about to be.” You move you’re finger to the trigger and as you’re about to shoot, you’re all shot back with stun blasts. You let out another pained groan and look up to see...bounty hunters. “Great, just what I needed.”

-

“Look what we have here, two of the most famous resistance fighters and...” the blue sentient pauses, turning to you and examining you, checking on his hologram to see if their was bounty on you or any other information, but nothing came up. “...and a no one.”

You shoot him a pointed look, fidgeting with the restraints around your wrists. “Then let me go. I suggest you do.” You say sharply making him look at you with a questioning look, turning back to his companions, quietly having their own conversation.

“The first order is looking for the both of you, high bounty’s that will cover us for a long while...by the looks of that building they’re not far away,” The blue sentient continues, pacing back and forth, from you and the rebels next to you. “We’ll collect our reward. And as for you, theirs other ways you can reward us.” The sentient crouches down in front you with a wicked smile, combing his fingers through your hair. You snarl at him before head butting him. A couple of “oo’s” are heard beside you as the sentient falls back grabbing onto pained area, cursing at you in his native language.

The other sentient comes over to you, pulling you up by your arm, snatching your backpack from your back. “Lets have a look.”

You begin to panic as the sentient begins to open your bag, your panic only increasing as she pulls out your helmet, she examines it and throws it to the sentient you had hurt.

“This look’s like the Child of Ren’s helmet, what are you doing with it?” The sentient questions, fear flashing in his eyes as he feared the answer.

“Maybe I killed her...or I’m just a fan and copied her helmet.” You respond, ignoring the curious stares from the rebels beside you.

The sentient gives you a puzzled look as you had referred the Child of Ren as a ‘her’ when no one knew anything about who you were, or more specifically who the Child of Ren was. “Killed, HA! The Child of Ren is the most fiercest First order warrior, you couldn't have killed it, especially not with her daddy around it all the time.” The sentient pauses and puts the helmet on his human friend; they all chuckle, making you shoot them all a glare as you ball your hands into fists. “You know what I heard, I heard that no one has seen what’s under the mask, I heard that it’s a monster with four eyes and magic ancient powers.” He continues, taking the helmet and examining it again, he then looks up at you and slowly puts the helmet on you, taking a step back and studying you hard.

“Maybe you are the Child of Ren...what do you guys think, does she look she could be the Child?” He spins you around to the rebels, and they respond with silence; their slight fear at sight of you hidden within them, all except for the traitor who lets a silent shocked gasp. “Tell me, are you the monster under the mask?” He turns you to him, taking your helmet off and grabbing ahold of your jaw. His comment had affected you more than it should have but you didn’t show, not in front of everyone around anyway.

“If I was the Child of Ren, with one of click of a button, one signal and Kylo Ren and the whole first order will be here within seconds; so choose, do you want to risk taking and hurting me or do you want to let me go.” A mischievous smirk grows on your lips as you utter nothing but the truth to your captor; you expect him to fear your threat but all he does is tighten his grip on your jaw.

“You know what I want to risk? If you really are the Child of Ren, your daddy will pay us more than these fools are worth.” He chuckles and let’s go of your jaw, pushing you back and taking something else from your bag, your kyber crystal.

“Don’t touch that! I will kill you all!” You bellow pushing forward only to be kicked down. The sentient brings a dagger to your throat and smirks. You sneer and finally break the restraints off, wrapping your hand around the sharp dagger and throwing your hand forward to punch his face; after that you jump up to your feet, forcing pulling your rifle blaster that had been taken from you and guiding it to your hand. Before the other bounty hunters could shoot, you shoot them all down first, including the sentient that was taunting you.

You move and take your helmet and kyber crystal from the ground and head towards your ship, only to be stopped by the rebels still restrained on their knees. “Could you maybe help us out?” Poe asked, making you turn and walk backwards, offering him a sweet smile before chuckling and shooting him a wink whilst teasing him by taking the drive from your pocket and showing it off, before also shooting the traitor next to him a cold glare.

“Yeah, I already did, by sparing your lives. Godspeed Poe Dameron, I do hope we run into each other again.”

-

“No, No, NO!” You bellow out in anger, as you repeatedly slam your fist down on the holo-table, the sight of what was supposed to be the map to the weapons and ships showing nothing but a blank holo-screen, only making your anger increase tenfold, making you let out a frustrated curse.

You try and control your anger, by briefly closing your eyes and taking in deep shallow breaths; knowing that nothing good comes from you being angry, knowing that you have no control over the force within you when you do get angry. But as you open your eyes again and look at what was supposed to be the map you can’t help but be beyond angry—they had tricked you, the rebels had mostly likely gotten the stupid map, and you failed, you failed Kylo; and the blank holo-screen only seemed to be taunting you on your failure.

“STUPID!!! AGGGHH!!” You slam your fists down hard on the holo-table, using the force to shatter the damn thing; shortly after the shattered pieces of the holo-table begin to slowly rise in mid-air, everything around you beginning to shake. You put your hands on either side of your head as you tried to calm yourself down, but that wasn’t enough, as the force erupted from within you, breaking everything in the room. Unwanted angry tears rolled down your cheeks as you let yourself fall on your knees, placing your head on your hands as you once again try and control your anger, taking in deep breaths and mumbling to yourself.

“What—” The sudden familiar deep voice makes himself known as he cuts himself off, looking at the mess that the room was, knowing that he didn’t need to ask what went wrong.

At the sound of his voice you whip your head up to see Kylo making his way to you, ignoring that metal crunching under his boots. You try and say something but you’re too angry and disappointed in yourself to say anything. He notices your struggle, your anger and kneels in front you, carefully moving your head up to face him, whilst cupping both of your cheeks, using the force to calm and ease your mind; something he has done since you first started dealing with the problem—raging anger that led to you losing control of the force within you, breaking, throwing everything around, sometimes even hurting people that were there too. It was something that he could only seem to help you with.

Your breaths calm down until they’re steady again, he drops his hands from your cheeks and then helps you up. “What happened?” He asks once again, causing you to sigh.

“It was blank, I failed, I let you down, I’m sorry.”

He stays quiet, turning his back to face you; a small hint of fear presenting itself in your mind as you didn’t know what he was thinking, didn’t know if he was angry or not. When he turns back to face you; you gasp and flinch out of pure instinct, part of your mind used to the fact that Snoke would have answered your failure with physical abuse. He notices your reaction and his lips part, taken back that you would think such a thing from him— he would never hurt you like Snoke hurt you...hurt him too. He could never hurt you, not you...well...not in a physical sense nor in a emotional sense, even if it’s happened before, a long time ago.

“No, you didn’t fail. You’ll go stop them, we know where the ships and weapons are being held, you won’t let them get away with any of it, or their lives.” He said to you, letting you nod in agreement. He handed you your helmet before he continued speaking. “You’ll go as the Child of Ren this time, and you’ll take stormtroopers—”

“Stormtroopers?! They’re useless! Let the Knights come with me.” You interjected in bewilderment, the idea of the bucket heads coming along not sitting well with you; they’re a useless army, with no sense of direction when they shoot their blasters.

“No, the knights and I are going somewhere else, you’ll take stormtroopers.”

You groan in a exaggerated manner, rolling your eyes at the idea. “Any type of droid can shoot better than they can.” You complain; Kylo letting out an amused huff of air, the smallest ghost of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips, something close to a laugh and closest you’ll get, also something only you could get him to do, no one else.

“Go, you’ll stop them this time.”

You smile as a response, before carefully putting on your dark helmet, your demeanor instantly changing as the darkness consumed you whole.

-

“Targets secured, just entering the north tunnel.” One of the stormtroopers announced to you, hesitantly turning to you.

“Yeah, I see...go, take the squadron after them, don’t let that speeder reach their ship, I’ll catch up.” You instruct and the trooper doesn’t hesitate to follow orders, afraid of the outcome if he didn’t listen— You push yourself to your full height, before looking once again into your blasters scope; as you’re about to look away you zoom in closer, noticing that the rebels had added someone else to their team, someone that wasn’t with them before, The Scavenger.

Quickly you hang your blaster on your back and hop onto your speeder bike; you notice as the rebels begin to ride away as they spotted the stormtroopers chase after them. You watch from afar as the rebels begin to take down your stormtroopers, one by one, only leaving four that were lucky enough to swerve from the blasts, successfully hitting some blasts themselves; theirs a sense of relief that you sense from the rebels, as they think they’re going to get away with the weapons in their speeder, not knowing that you’re not far behind.

Revving your speeder bike, you quicken the speed, making the Rebels take notice on the sudden loud and additional speeder bike not seen before. Their sense of relief they had, now completely turned into fear...all except for The Scavenger. Upon seeing you ominously appear from the darkness of the tunnel The Scavenger didn’t fear you like her other two rebel friends, the sight of your helmet didn’t fear her like it would have done with everyone else—her lack of fear had suprised you, and it would have been painfully obvious if it wasn’t for your helmet hiding your expression.

“Go Poe! Drive faster!” The traitor shouted pointing his blaster at you, as the stormtroopers parted ways to make a path for you, as you quickly caught up to them. You smirked under your helmet, reaching for your own blaster that was hung on your back. Both The Scavenger and The Traitor begin to shoot at you; but you move your body from side to side, successfully avoiding each blast. You then shoot and manage to hit The Traitors arm; you speed up and start driving by their side. The only stormtroopers that had been left were now gone, only leaving you—which you didn’t at all mind, as they had failed horribly.

Bringing your blaster up, you aim it at the pilot; but he quickly notices and manages to ram your speeder bike away with their own speeder. You let out a small growl and shoot at them again, but The Scavenger quickly deflects your blast; they manage to pick up their speed but you quickly catch up. “Enough games.” You snarl, moving your finger away from the trigger, and to a hidden button on the side of your blaster rifle. The blaster instantly and swiftly retracts within itself, transforming into a lightsaber hilt and letting The Traitor’s eyes go wide as he suddenly saw how your blaster turned into a lightsaber hilt.

“The blaster just turned into a lightsaber!” You heard The traitor shout over his shoulder to Poe.

“What?!” Poe shouted, the panic detectable in his voice; you noticed as he quickly looked over his shoulder to you, letting you notice his fear— He wasn’t scared of you when he had seen you without the helmet; but he didn’t know that the Child of Ren currently chasing after him was actually you, the girl he had met before.

“The blaster just turned into a lightsaber!” The Traitor repeated with urgency, as he tried to shoot at you, ignoring the aching pain on his arm from his wound.

You drove by their side again and ignited your lightsaber, revealing a crimson red unstable blade; moving your lightsaber down, the tip begins to scrape the side of the speeder, melting the metal and leaving a blazing scratch; with your other hand you reach to your side, taking out an explosive— you try and stick it to the side of their speeder to destroy the weapons, but The Scavenger manages to shoot the explosive out of your hand, making you swiftly swerve and lose direction, barely avoiding getting blown up by it yourself.

Regaining your direction, you twist your throttles forward, speeding up whilst throwing your lightsaber, successfully disconnecting the container that had the weapons they were here for. You smile smugly under your helmet and throw once again an explosive, this time successfully destroying the weapons. You catch your lightsaber back in your hand, also taking notice the grim reactions on the rebels faces as they caught sight of what you did, making you for a second get a flicker of feeling of regret; but that feeling quickly vanished letting you drive to their side again.

Letting go of your throttles you jump up, landing on top of your speeder bike, you shift your feet, and jump off, attempting to land inside their speeder but as you were in midair you were violently hurdling to the ground, painfully rolling on the cold ground until you stopped letting you notice The Scavenger on top of you with a scowl on her features.

Taking notice of your lightsaber missing from your hand, you try and force pull it to your hand but before it could reach your hold, The Scavenger caught it and brought it down to your throat. You smirk and bring up your throat closer, making her slightly pull away. “Do it. Kill me.” You tell her, and you expect her to be frightened by your modified voice but she isn’t, once again surprising you, you try and bring up your throat closer to the unstable blade but she can’t bring her self to bring it down on you. “DO IT!” You shout. You expect her to flinch by the harshness of your robotic voice like everyone else; but she doesn’t...no, she’s different, not at all affected by it, or by your appearance.

You tilt your head slightly to the side, slowly moving your hands up to the sides of your helmet; the helmet hissing silently as you took it off, slowly moving it up, your face basked by the burning, crackling unstable red blade; making her the first person out of Kylo, The Knights of Ren and selected first order members to see who the Child of Ren actually was.

Suddenly you freeze under her, as you actually saw her face, actually saw it without your sight being modified by your visor; she looked different, she was different, not at all showing what the first order or Kylo put her out to be. She was...pretty and looked like she was around your age. You didn’t know what had motivated you to remove your helmet and let her see your face; but you did....perhaps you wanted her to fear who really was under the helmet, nothing but a human like her; but again she didn’t fear you, instead she pulled your lightsaber away from your throat and her face softened, the scowl she once carried completely vanishing.

She wasn’t afraid of you but she expected something else completely different than what she saw now; she was leading to believe the rumors of who was really under the mask; something monster like; but you were nothing of the sort, instead just someone who projected anger and fear, kind eyes hidden behind it all. Eyes that told a different story than the one that you tried to project, someone corrupted by the darkness because of....Kylo Ren; someone who she saw do horrible things to you or rather people you loved—she had seen it in his mind, when she had touched his hand that one night. That night though, the one that plagued his mind; that night terrified him, it was terrible and made her wonder why you stayed at his side, loyal to his every word. You deserved the truth, as much it would hurt, you couldn’t continue to believe that he was a good man like he made you believe, you deserved better than him. Why did she want that for you? she didn’t know, she just did.

“Why?”

“What?” You shot back sharply, interrupting what she was going to say, also getting surprised by her suddenly talking when you didn’t expect her to.

“Why are you so loyal to him? After what he’s done to you?” She questioned, only making you shoot her a pointed look before pushing her off from you; you grab your helmet from the ground as you stood up, ignoring the pain caused by her throwing herself at you and tumbling on the ground.

She stands up and you expect her to leave but she stays put, in front of you, making you let out a loud annoyed sigh. “What are you talking about?” You hiss noticing her face fall at your question.

“He’s a horrible man, only bringing you down with him like he tried to do with me...how can you not see that? Why are you loyal—”

“Because he’s raised me, he helps me, he’s not afraid of me, he saved me after my parents abandoned me, he understands me.” You interrupt, anger now rising within you at her sudden and out of nowhere questions of loyalty. Did she know something you didn’t? Or was she just trying to to turn you against your master? If she was trying that, it wasn’t going to work. Nothing could make you betray him. Nothing.

“Tell him to tell you the truth about what really happened, he’s not who you think he is.” She deactivates your lightsaber and shoves it in your hand, sharing a lingering look, before turning away from you and running to her friends. You watch as she turns to look at you one last time, suddenly sharing something with you...through the force.

When you know the truth, and need somewhere to go, you can come find me.

The sight of her finally disappears and the feeling of her force presence in your mind is no longer there. Quietly you stay where she had left you; leaving you with newfound curiosity on what the hell she was talking about, leaving you with unwanted doubts on Kylo and the truth he supposedly hid from you. You looked down at your helmet, letting your gloved fingers graze lightly over the detailing of it, questioning it all, questioning what she meant.

You needed to ask Kylo, to know what she was talking about, or else the curiosity within you was going eat you from the inside out. You didn’t expect it to be anything bad...after all what could he hide?

What “truth” could Kylo Ren hide from you?

.

.

.

.

Tagged- @jennibradley​ , @xxrouge-lexxx​ , @daniellajocelyn​ , @tweedlydumbtweedlydoo​ , @star-marvel-fangirl​ , @leilei-draws​

[undeadsnorlax]

Stick ‘Em Up

Archive of Our Own

@badthingshappenbingo​

I have been struck with Punisher brainrot the last few weeks, so why not fill a prompt up with my man Castle. my first time writing for this universe (or at least, first time publishing). and it’s sort of...my own version of the Marvel universe because canon is a playground and I’m a child who wants to break the swings.

Prompt: Hostage Situation

Fandom: Marvel Comics/The Punisher

Warnings: Canon-typical violence (all the stuff you’d expect from the Punisher, guns and killing)

Wordcount: 4596

Four robbers. Fifteen civilians. And one Punisher.

Or, Frank goes to the bank to cash a cheque and ends up caught in a hostage situation.

“Hey. Can you talk?”

“Yeah, yeah. Keep it quiet though. I’m in public.”

“Ooo, anywhere nice?”

“No. The bank.”

Frank could practically hear Micro rolling his eyes at his bluntness from the other side of the phone, only covered by the slight rumble of his computer chair moving across the floor.

“Cashing the cheque you got from Monroe, huh?”

Frank wrinkled his nose, peering over the line of people in front of him. “Uh-huh. I need a restock. Think you can arrange a meeting with Jackson?”

“Mm, sure can. I still can’t believe Monroe tried to bribe you into not killing him,” Micro scoffed, the usual click-clack of his keyboard audible under his voice, “Like, who the hell does that? You sure it’s a good idea to do this so soon though? The guy only just died…”

“Hasn’t been reported yet.” He dropped his voice, adding a slight growl as he spoke. “Probably won’t for a while, given where he’s laying now.”

“Urgh. I hate when you do that voice.”

On the other end of the line, there were a few beeps and bwoops, as Micro let out a content hum. “Anyway, called because I got more info on Ray Broad. I’ll drop it off at the usual spot at seven – sorry, at nineteen hundred hours. Then I’ll get Jackson to meet you in the usual spot at twenty-three hundred, ask if he’s got anything new in. Think you’ll be done by then?”

Frank shuffled up in the line, seemingly no closer to the front than when he’d started. “Hopefully. Thanks. Keep in touch.”

“Wow, that all I get-“

He hit the hang up button before Micro could finish, tucking his phone back into his jacket. With a small huff, he shoved his hands into his pockets, glancing around the rest of the bank.  Every other line seemed just as slow, the other two that were open, the workers behind the glass looking stressed to get through everyone in good time.

Understaffed maybe?

“Hey grandma, hurry up will you?”

Frank’s attention moved to face ahead of him. He was only three people away from the counter. Currently being served was an elderly woman, and just behind her some impatient suit who crossed his arms.

The old lady turned around, a hand to her chest as she scowled. “Excuse me?”

“Sir, please,” the teller said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, “I understand this is taking a while but-“

“You heard me,” the suit scoffed, ignoring the teller entirely, “Hurry your ass! You’re holding everyone up!”

Frank rolled his eyes a little, tuning out the conversation. Not my problem. Sooner he could get out of here, the better.

He wouldn’t usually waste time like this, but financing could be hard for vigilantes, and it was only a matter of days before Monroe’s body washed up somewhere along the East River. Or parts of him, anyway.

Six grand to save his life. Cheapskate even in the face of death. But it’d get Frank enough bullets to down another several jerks, so he could hardly complain.

The automatic doors at the entrance swung open again. He looked out of habit, keeping cautious to any small sound.

A group of four breezed in, nothing exactly out of the ordinary as three of them separated out to different corners of the room, one staying lingering by the door.

The hairs at the back of his neck pricked up.

They were each wearing a mask, those creepy ones you could get at a craft store in different vibrant colours. Somehow nobody had noticed, but then again not everyone was Frank Castle, years of extensive military training and intense paranoia all rolled up into one man.

The suit and old lady were still arguing, the teller desperately looking toward one of her co-workers for help. The woman just in front of Frank tutted, turning back to make some comment to him about this behaviour, but he was already distracted by flitting his focus on each of the newcomers, watching as one began to lock the door, when-

Bang-bang!

The sound of gunshots rang through the building, the presumably lead dipshit pointing a gun in the air as they looked around.

“Everyone on the ground, now!”

The security shutter was slammed over the door, as a few patrons let out a scream, another shot being fired.

“Nobody move or try anything funny, and this will be over soon.” He swerved around, nodding at the three bank tellers. “We’ve already disabled the alarm system, so don’t even try.”

“Shit,” Frank hissed, slipping his hand inside his jacket before cursing again.

No gun. Not even a goddamn combat knife. Out of character. He gritted his teeth as he remembered he’d just washed this jacket, forgot to put something into the concealed holster in his rush to get this over with. Idiot. You always double check!

Two of the robbers advanced at the counter, pistols outstretched. Frank glanced over what they were wielding – 9mm, semi-automatic. Browning, maybe? Not a scratch, they’re brand new. And it was obvious from how they held them. They had some conviction, some cocky air, but it was clear they’d barely even held the things before.

“I said get down!”

One swung around, aiming at the impatient suited guy from earlier. The guy hesitated just a second too long, frozen at the sight of the gun barrel staring him down, and was met with the base of the pistol smacked into the side of his head.

This was serious then.

He quickly dropped to his knees, hands raised up and shaking. Soon everyone followed, until Frank was the last one standing.

He hesitated, glancing around the room. Four robbers. Fifteen civilians.

And one Punisher.

“Hey! You listening?”

Reluctantly for now, Frank raised his hands and put them behind his head, kneeling down. He’d just have to wait.

“You two, keep everyone here in check,” the leader said, walking up to the staff door and kicking it open.

He reappeared on the other side of the counter and immediately grabbed the wrist of the clerk that had been serving Frank’s line, pinning it behind her back and lodging his gun to her neck. She tried to yell out, but the gun was just shoved harder.

“Shut it! You’re gonna take us through to the safes. Cyrus, you’re with me.”

The last guy nodded, jogging up before the three disappeared into the back room.

Frank swallowed, figuring out how to do this. He never usually found himself on this side of a situation, even when things went really bad. Even then, he usually had something to hand from his arsenal to help him. For now, all he had was his wits.

He took in the two left behind. One in a pink mask, one in a yellow. The leader had been wearing a black one, while the ‘Cyrus’ guy he’d yelled for was in blue. Good way to distinguish them all.

Yellow started to pace around the others being held hostage, whilst Pink, who’d been the one to hit the suited guy, stayed nearby, bouncing on his toes uneasily. It was almost impressive that out of this team of four, only one of them was fully confident, and they’d still managed to get this far, even for a bank branch so small.

Almost impressive.

“Can’t believe we’re doing this in broad daylight,” Pink said, rolling his head around his neck, “This feels too easy.”

“Dude, shut up,” Yellow snapped, kicking someone’s bag out of the way as he passed them, “Okay? Blayke knows what we’re looking for, and we’ll be outta here before anyone realises something’s up.” “I’m just saying, wouldn’t it be easier at night?”

He has a point, Frank thought, watching their movements carefully, Why would you break in during the day?

A whimper came from Frank’s side, distracting him. The woman who had been in front of him in line had huddled in on herself as much as she could, shaking like crazy as tears rolled down her face. He waited a moment until Pink turned away from them, before leaning in a little closer, keeping his voice hushed.

“Hey. What’s your name?”

The woman looked up, puzzled as she sniffed. “I-it’s Moira…”

“Okay Moira, I’m Frank.” He gave his best smile, as warm as he could manage right now. “I’ll get us out of this, okay?”

“How the hell are you gonna do that?!” came the hissed voice of the suited guy, gritting his teeth as he made sure the robber didn’t hear, “They have guns.”

“You have me,” Frank replied. Blunt and honest. “You got a name?”

“Jeremy, and-“ He cut himself off, eyes widening. “Wait, are you an Avenger?”

Frank couldn’t help scoffing, shuffling on his knees a little. If he timed it right, he could probably launch himself up from this position and have one of these assholes on the floor before the other could fire. Or maybe-

“Or like, an X-Men? Or...X-Man? Is...is that the singular?”

Oh, he’s still talking.

“Keep it down. I’m not-“

“Daredevil?”

Frank glared ahead. He went to snap some retort, but was beaten to the punch by the elderly lady smacking Jeremy across his arm.

“Hush, will you? He’s twice the size of Daredevil.” She leaned forward a little, aiming such a sweet smile in Frank’s direction. “Gladys, by the way.”

He blinked and nodded his greeting. Forming a whole little gang here...they could be useful though.

“Do you mean it though?”

Moira’s voice was weak, cracking at the edges as she kept sniffing loudly. “Can you really help us?”

“Yeah. I’ll make sure of it.”

“Hey! Keep it quiet back there!” Pink snapped, glancing over his shoulder.

Frank grinded his teeth together, glancing at the three to his side. He wouldn’t usually involve normal citizens, but he needed to disarm at least one of these jerks...just needed to bring them closer.

“I’m gonna need you to play along,” he whispered, just enough so the three of them heard, “Follow my lead.”

He waited for them all to nod, and he swallowed heavily. Drama had never been his strong suit in school, but he’d have to try.

He scrunched his face up and groaned loudly, lowering his hands to clutch his stomach. This didn’t draw any attention, so Gladys leaned forward a little.

“You alright sweetheart?” she cooed.

Frank forced a fake whine, doubling over and gripping his middle tighter. Moira gulped back some tears and called out.

“H-hey! Excuse me! This guy’s hurt here!”

Pink glanced down at Frank, before looking over at Yellow on the other side of the room. “What’s the protocol?”

“I dunno,” Yellow said, shrugging dismissively, “We were just told to watch them.”

Frank groaned again, slowly inching the zipper of his jacket down. Might as well make this a big entrance when it came to it.

“I know first aid,” Jeremy piped up with a shaky voice, making as if he was going to move, but the gun was pointed in his direction once more.

“You stay there!” Pink barked. He trailed off a little as Frank fell forward onto his elbows, starting to pant a little. “He seriously doesn’t look good Yas. Is this like, a heart attack or something?”

“Christ, just check him, then let that douchebag there help if it’s something serious.”

Perfect.

Irritatingly, Pink holstered his pistol as he came over, tucked into the pocket of his pants, but he could still reach it easily if he was quick enough.

Pink crouched down, putting a hand to Frank’s shoulder and rolling him onto his side a little.

“You good man? You got some kinda meds you need or-”

He froze. Thank God for strong branding and very few of Frank’s clothes not having it. With his jacket now unzipped, there was no missing the skull logo emblazoned on the shirt underneath.

Barely visible behind the holes of the mask, Pink’s eyes bulged. Frank allowed himself a quick grin.

“Shit, Yas, it’s the Pun-!”

Frank didn’t give him much more of a chance to finish as he lunged a hand toward his throat, sitting up in the same swift motion.

Pink was slammed to the floor, choking and flailing helplessly as Frank used his other hand to grab the pistol. My arm is now complete!

“What the fuck-“

Yellow’s focus was drawn to the scene now, as Frank scrambled to his feet, pacing forward as he quickly checked over the gun. Safety off, fully loaded clip. Cheap and cheerful, but it’d do whatever job he asked of it.

Pink still flailed on the ground, pointing at the skull as he desperately tried to catch his breath once more. Yellow faltered, taking a step back in shock.

“He’s the Punisher?!” Jeremy hissed behind him.

“We can do this quickly,” Frank said, dropping his voice down from his previous casual tone, “Best not to draw it out.”

“Thought you were more shoot first, ask questions later,” Yellow said, barely hiding the nervous chuckle he let out, “Too much collateral damage around for the Punisher? 

Shit. The asshole wasn’t wrong. Frank was an exact shot, but it almost wasn’t worth killing these jerks at the risk of the civilians' lives.

Yellow took advantage of that hesitation, grabbing one of the other hostages and holding his gun to her head as she cried out. Frank sucked in through his teeth, calculating how he could do this. If he was clever, he’d manage to hit his hand or maybe his leg, something enough to get him to drop the hostage…

From behind him there was a yell, as Pink finally recovered and ran forward, attempting in vain to rush Frank and push him down. Of course it did nothing, other than piss him off when he was already in a bad mood.

It almost wasn’t worth killing them.

Frank swung a punch into his gut, winding him enough that he stumbled. Pink gasped, clutching his stomach, but still tried to run at him again. Frank huffed, grabbing Pink by the collar, fingers twisting the fabric of his shirt as he lifted him up, just enough that his toes were still on the ground.

He glanced at the pistol still in his hand.

“Wait, no, no, don’t-!”

The gun was lodged under Pink’s chin and fired without another thought.

There were a few screams as the body hit the floor with that dull thud he was numb to. He turned back, wiping the splashes of blood from his cheek with the heel of his hand, teeth bared.

Yellow started to shake, glancing around. Frank moved closer, head cocked to his shoulder.

“Let her go bud,” he growled, tensing the fingers of his free hand, “Don’t make this harder than it needs to be.”

Yellow’s knees buckled slightly, losing all confidence in a few seconds as his gun fell to his side. He still had some cockiness left, as he shoved the hostage right into Frank, unexpectedly enough that he stumbled.

With Frank briefly distracted, muttering an apology to the lady as he got her steady, Yellow tried to make a break for it, rushing toward the staff door the rest of his crew had disappeared into earlier. Before he could make it, however, Gladys threw out her handbag, causing him to get tangled in the strap and trip into the ground with a hard smack.

Thank you grandma, Frank thought with a raised brow, rushing over and standing over Yellow, pressing one heavy boot down into his back.

He tossed a look back at the other customers, then toward the remaining bank tellers, still cowering behind the counter. “Keep quiet. Get that door open and get these people to safety. I’ll take it from here.”

The nearest one nodded, hurrying out and toward the entrance, as several of the hostages started to get to their feet, confused but clearly relieved as they awkwardly sidestepped Pink’s body.

Under his foot, Yellow whimpered. Frank just pushed down harder with a soft growl, a finger tensed against the pistol's trigger guard. “One wrong move kid, and I’ll-“

A hand brushed against his elbow, causing him to flinch as he turned his head, but it was only Moira, still sniffing. Lucky he wasn’t so itchy on the trigger.

“...thank you,” she whispered, smiling weakly as she moved to the exit.

Frank blinked, but gave a small nod, watching as the doors were opened and everyone filed out. He stayed where he was, glancing at the staff door every so often just in case. Still, he caught Jeremy immediately getting his phone out, grabbing his wrist as he passed.

“You better be calling your mommy.”

Jeremy hissed from the grip, struggling to pull away, letting Frank read the 911 already typed onto the screen.

“You’re the goddamn Punisher!” Jeremy said, stumbling as Frank finally let him go, “You killed a guy in front of us!”

“A guy who smacked you with a gun. You’re bruising already.” Frank blew out a dismissive breath, rolling his shoulders. “You wanna call the cops? Go ahead. I’ll be finished before they get here.”

He watched Jeremy fluster. The guy clearly wanted to argue, do some moral highhorsing or whatever it was people who didn’t understand his work did, but one half-hearted glare was all it took for him to back down.

“I’m still calling the authorities!” he cried, showing he’d hit dial on his phone’s screen as he stormed out.

Frank grunted, now alone in the bank’s lobby. Great. Got a time limit now.

Under his boot, Yellow squirmed. He’d almost forgotten about this asshole.

“What are you gonna do to me?” Yellow asked, voice quiet.

“Was waiting for it to be just the two of us, that’s all.” Frank wrinkled his nose, lifting the pistol up and aiming it at the back of Yellow’s head. “Traumatised the civilians enough killing your buddy. But, before I do anything...are you part of some bigger thing?”

Yellow started to answer, but Frank’s heel dug into his spine. “And as you can imagine, I don’t like liars.”

“N-no...there’s a few others, but we’re small time. Smaller than small, barely worth the time. I swear.”

He yelled out as Frank ground his boot down, pushing his full weight into him.

“Mould can start small,” he said, coldly, “Something you can ignore. But it grows eventually if you don’t take care of it, cause a lot more problems later down the line. Address. Names. Now.”

“I don’t know any, I never dealt with the higher ups. That’s Blayke’s job!”

Frank raised a brow. “That the one in the black mask?”

Yellow gasped for air, nodding. “Yeah. That’s all I know. I swear. We’re not important.”

“What the fuck-?!”

Frank looked up, to see the Blue masked robber standing behind the counter. He huffed, firing two shots off into Yellow’s head, feeling the breath leave under him. He’d outlived his usefulness.

Blue gulped, frozen and shaking on the spot. Frank quickly ducked to grab Yellow’s gun, still on the floor where he’d dropped it, tucking it into the waistband of his jeans, before walking through the staff door toward him.

“Yo, Cy! What’s with the racket?” came the leader’s voice from the other room, “Pierce acting up?”

Frank tilted his head, then pressed a finger to his lips, before making a turning gesture. Blue nodded obediently, doing as he was told. He was still shaking, but did well in disguising that anything was out of place as he called back.

“N...nothing boss. All good here. Yeah, just Pierce flexing a little, no worries.”

“Good man,” Frank whispered, stepping up behind and snapping the man’s neck with ease. Compliance deserved something swift.

He fell to the ground like a sack of flour, leaving his mask ripe for plucking off.

Frank took Blue’s face in. He looked young.

Wrong crowd huh kid? he thought, putting the mask on and walking through the back room.

The black masked guy was distracted, standing in front of a wall of half-open safety deposit boxes, most of their contents discarded to the floor.

“Where the fuck is it?!” he cried, turning to glare at the bank teller, cowering in one corner, “You said it was here!”

“I-I opened the safes with the numbers you gave me, there’s not much else I can do-!”

Frank cleared his throat to let them know of his presence. Black turned around, but barely looked, still clearly too frustrated to see his companion had grown a few inches and gained thirty pounds of muscle.

“It’s not here,” he said with a huff, pulling his mask off and throwing it to the ground, revealing another younger guy, “We were lied to.”

“Hm. What a waste.”

Black blinked, finally actually looking at Frank, and of course homing in on the skull.

“Oh...oh shit…! What happened to Cyrus?”

“What do you think?” Frank asked, ripping the mask off with a snap of cheap elastic, “Now let the lady go and we can have a nice civil discussion.”

Black had started to fire at him before he even finished his sentence. Frank was anticipating it though, and dived to the floor, rolling out of the way and behind a nearby desk.

“Shame,” he muttered, checking the one pistol again quickly before firing a few shots over the desk.

They pinged off the wall behind Black, one managing to graze his shoulder and making him hiss out in pain. He kicked down a nearby table to use as his shield, but not before grabbing the poor clerk and dragging her behind.

“Leave her go!” Frank barked, pressing the trigger only to fire blanks, “Shit.”

“No way Punisher,” Black said, his voice shaking, “If I’m gonna die today, I wanna at least put up a fight.”

He peered over the table at just the right moment for Frank to lob the empty gun in his direction, smacking him in the forehead. He fell back, but Frank knew it was nowhere near enough to kill him.

That was until he heard a dull thunk. Then another. What the hell?

Grabbing the second pistol from his waistband, he scrambled over to see the bank teller holding the barrel end of the gun he’d thrown. She brought it down again, slamming the base of the magazine against Black’s head. Blood was starting to trickle down the robber’s face, too dazed now to react.

“Asshole!” she screeched, going again but was met with resistance as Frank grabbed her wrist.

“Hey. Hey. It’s okay. I’ll deal with it.”

She gulped, seemingly coming back to her senses, as she let Frank help her to her feet.

“Is everyone safe?” she asked, watching as he crouched over Black.

“All the customers and your co-workers are, yes. These guys…” He sniffed. “Not so much.”

He paused a moment, before reaching into his jacket, holding out a small brown envelope to her.

“I...I came to cash a cheque. I still gotta get some more info outta this jerk, then leave as soon as possible. You mind getting my money?”

“Psh. Gladly.”

She hurried out of the room, leaving Frank to slap Black’s cheek, making sure he was still awake. He startled a tad, still trying to reach for his own gun that had fallen in the fight, but Frank pushed it further out of reach.

“Your buddy told me you know who hired you,” he growled, digging a knee into his stomach, “So talk. Names, anything.”

“I…I don’t have a name.”

Click. The pistol was pressed to his temple. Black whined.

“I mean it! The closest I got was ‘benefactor’. They call me, me and my boys do their shit. Easy as.”

Frank watched his face then grunted. This much was certainly true. “What were you looking for?”

“A necklace or some shit? With a locket on it. I dunno, I assume it was worth a tonne.”

As if reading his mind, Black added, “Drop off location given only when we reported having got it.”

“Hm. Must be pretty valuable to them.”

Frank was certain he could hear sirens in the distance. Hurry up…

“So that’s everything you got for me, huh?”

“Look, Castle, c’mon,” Black said, gripping at his wrist, struggling in vain to pull the gun away from his head, “I could help! Just give me a chance.”

“Think you screwed any chance you had when you took me hostage.”

His brains were splattered across the floor before he could argue any further.

***

“...and onto our main story. Five branches of the Brighter Bank were attacked at various locations around the city today. At exactly two-fourteen this afternoon, groups of masked individuals held up the banks, going through the safety deposit boxes in search of some unknown item.”

Frank sipped his coffee, eyes not moving from the TV in the corner of the cafe. Micro furrowed his brow, slipping a folder into his hand under the table.

“Thankfully, no civilians were injured,” the newscaster continued, the screen splitting to show another reporter, “However, the bodies of four robbers were found at the Brighter Bank located on Jasmine Avenue. With us is Hailey Edwards at the scene.”

The on-location reporter nodded and took over, gesturing at the cordoned off building behind her. “Eyewitness reports from those held at the building today say the deaths were the work of violent vigilante, Frank Castle, also known as The Punisher.”

“Jesus Christ, Frank,” Micro muttered, picking at the fries on his plate, “You ever take a day off?”

“You know I can’t,” Frank said, flicking through the folder on his lap quickly, before slipping it into the backpack he’d brought that sat at his side, ”Thanks again.”

“Don’t mention it.”

“Police are currently investigating what could have been taken, and are heightening security around all Brighter Banks starting tomorrow. They urge any and all witnesses to step forward if they have any useful information, and also stress – do not approach the Punisher. Despite the reports of him safely getting all the hostages out today, police wish to remind the public that Castle is a highly dangerous individual.”

“How are things boys?” the waitress asked as she approached the table, pot of coffee in hand.

Frank gave her a warm smile, holding out his mug. “Wonderful as ever, Aggie.”

“Aw, that’s nice.”

She refilled his cup before walking on. Micro sighed a little, leaning forward on the table.

“You get any idea what those hold-ups were about?”

“Not much.” Frank poked at his half-eaten burger, wrinkling his nose. “They were hired by some other force. Searching for some locket, but they didn’t find it there. When I interrogated the guy that was meant to know, he said they only talk on the phone. Never met ‘em face-to-face. Maybe one of those other teams found whatever it was.”

“Jeez.” Micro ran his hand over his hair, glancing back at the TV once more. “It even worth pursuing further?”

“...no. Think it was just an ordinary locket. Hope so, anyway.”

Frank tapped at his backpack, raising a brow. “Bigger fish to fry right now. Wanna put my focus into bringing Broad down.”

“If you say so…”

Micro trailed off a little then smirked, getting that look in his eye that meant Frank immediately knew whatever was next out his mouth would irritate him.

“I still can’t believe you got caught up in a hostage situation.”

Frank grunted, taking a bite of his burger so he didn’t have to answer properly. “Shuddup Micro…”

[ms-rampage]

Eden's Gate: Kidnapped Chapter 15 - Winchester vs Seed

Word count: 3,365

Warnings: Smut right off the bat, swearing, angst, pregnancy annoucment, Paige threatening to put a poopy diaper in John's face, Paige giving John the lecture of his life!!!!! and its just a roller coast of emotions in this one. FORESHADOWING THE NEXT SERIES THAT TAKES PLACE A FEW YEARS EARLIER!!!!!!!.

The final 3 chapters are gonna long ones.

He has her pinned to the bed, lavishing her neck with love bites and kisses.

Kenny, who hasn’t gotten to pleasure his wife in months, finally gets to do that.

Her naked body underneath him, her legs wrapped around his waist. 

Paige has been waiting for this day for so long, Kenny’s body pressed against hers.

The day she was kidnapped, they were gonna conceive another baby that same night, but of course Eden’s Gate had to ruin it by taking her away. Fuck them. Fuck the Project. Fuck the Seeds. Fuck them all to Hell.

Kenny continues down her body, his mouth doing all the work, his thick beard tickling her skin, leaving kisses and bites all the way down her body.

“Kenny?” she moans, as he leaves kisses on her abdomen

He stops, and looks up at her, hovering over the lower half of her body.

She sits up, cupping his face and says softly. 

“I want you to impregnate me” 

He looks at her with disbelief, his eyes widened. 

“You serious?” he mutters. 

She nods her head, “Yes, like we were supposed to do months ago”.

A smile grows on his face, and he crashes his lips against hers, his hand getting tangled in her hair. 

He sits up, and takes off his shirt, Paige unbuttons his pants, he gets off the bed and takes them off along with his boxers. 

He climbs on the bed, aligns himself with Paige’s cunt, and shoves himself inside her without hesitation. 

She cries out in pleasure, wanting, waiting for so long for him to fuck her again.

He puts her legs over his shoulders, digging his fingers into her hips, and fucking her senseless without any thought of stopping or slowing down. 

Her moans bounce off the walls, as well as his grunting and the sound of their skin slapping together. 

She can feel his cock twitch inside her, he lets out a throaty whimper, as a sign that he’s getting close. 

She grips the sheets to the bed, and lets out a soft whimper.

She moves her hands up his arms, digging her nails into his muscular biceps.

His muscles tense up, as he’s fucking her the shit out of her. Sweat building up on his forehead, his hair sticking to his forehead. 

Paige lets out a pitchy whimper, Kenny knows that she’s close to cumming. 

“Let it out” he moans, as he’s still shoving himself into her tight cunt.

She arches her back, and cums all of his cock. 

Her body vibrates as she orgasms. Kenny’s not far behind, he’s very close.

“Ready honey?” his voice hoarse, his eyes filled with lust. 

“Yeah” she moans. 

He presses his forehead to hers, they look into each other's eyes, and he releases himself.

His hot seed flowing into her cunt, bathing her in his cum.

He rocks her hips as he continues to release himself into her, wanting to get her pregnant again.

He pulls out, and collapses next to her. Both breathing heavily but both completely satisfied.

“You have no idea how long I’ve waited to do that” he says, pulling her to cuddle with him.

“How do you think I feel?” she says, cuddling up to his chest. 

He chuckles, and pulls her closer to him, wrapping his arms around her. 

Placing a kiss on her head. 

___________________________________________________

A week has passed, well to be exact 9 days have passed, and Paige is starting to feel the early pregnancy symptoms she had when she was pregnant with Cristina.

She doesn’t have any pregnancy tests. 

So she puts Cristina in her carseat, her mom Mandy comes along, and they drive to a nearby drugstore for some pregnancy tests, and some stuff for dinner that evening.

Kate, Kenny, Nate, Mark, Martin, Cody and Adrian stay back to keep an eye, or several eyes on the house. 

They park the car, and walk to some drugstore in Falls End, Paige barely recognizes it, everything looks like it has changed in over the course of 2 months since she was kept prisoner at St. Francis. John Seed must’ve been threatening the owners of the businesses. 

Paige isn’t scared of him, if she saw him right there in Falls End, she’d punched him square in his face. 

Hell maybe she’ll put Cristina’s dirty shitty diaper in his face. Who knows!!. Sometimes the universe decides. 

She has Cristina in a Moby classic wrap baby carrier, Mandy who is a semi paranoid woman walks next to her with a pistol in her holster, and knife in her back pocket, armed and ready incase any peggie fucks want to die. 

They walk past the Spread Eagle bar, and Mary May from the corner of her eye sees Paige and Mandy walk by. She gets out from the behind the bar counter, and goes outside. 

“Paige?!” she says, in shock. 

They both turn around, “Hey Mary” Paige says.

“You’re-you’re alive!?!!!” she exclaims. 

“And well” she jokes.

She sees “Pride” on her chest.

“John got you!?” she says, motioning to her chest.

“Yeah the little fucker marked me. But he’ll get what's coming to him. Him, Joseph, Jacob and even Faith even though she didn’t do anything to me”

Mary crosses her arms over her chest “Yeah, John’s been reaping some of the businesses here. He got the apple farm up the road, he got Rae-Rae’s, a few other businesses and also Lamb of God church” she says.

“So he’s basically got almost every business in Holland Valley?” Mandy asks.

Mary nods her head, “Yep, all he needs now is the Falls End church, the gunshop, the auto shop, Rye’s aviation and my bar”. 

“Oh shit, it's a matter of time before he gets our place” Mandy says to Paige.

“And he won’t because I won’t let him take away my home” she replies to her. 

“Someone’s gotta stop him, and I believe you can do it Paige. Because everyone except you is scared of him, and your sister dated him” 

“Yeah, yeah he told me that during my torture session. I wanted to rip his fucking head off his shoulders” she says looking at the ground.

“Well it great seeing you again Mary, take care” Paige says,

“You too take care” she replies and she goes back into the bar.

Mandy, and Paige make it to the drugstore, and they see a couple of peggies hanging outside of it.

Paige rolls her eyes “Oooohh great, just what we needed” she says, annoyed.

“Just keep walking” Mandy instructs her. 

The peggie fucks see them approaching, and they just stare at them as they walk inside.

Normally Paige would be all over them but she brought her infant daughter with her, and didn’t want her to get caught in the crossfire. 

Paige goes into the aisle with the pregnancy tests, and grabs a couple of them. 

Mandy comes to her with a basket of chips, alcohol and a bunch of random snacks.

Paige looks down at the basket, and lets out a short laugh “Is this dinner?”. 

Mandy lets out a short laugh herself, “No this is just the essentials”. 

They shop for a little bit longer, pay for the stuff, and head back to the car.

As they’re walking back to the car, Paige has the urge to pee. Luckily they’re near the Spread Eagle, “Hold on I really need to use the bathroom” she says to her. 

She takes Cristina out of her wrap, and hands her to Mandy.

She grabs one of the pregnancy tests from the bag, and goes inside the bar.

Mandy waits outside with Cristina, and talks to her.

As she’s talking a few of the Cults truck drive by, and followed by a black SUV with tinted windows.

Paige does her business, she opens the pregnancy tests, and dips it in the urine infested toilet water.

She takes it out, setting it on the box that's on the counter and waits. 

She flushes the toilet and washes her hands. 

It takes a couple minutes for her to get the results, and it's the longest moments of her life!!! 

Finally after 2 minutes of waiting, she gets her results and SHE’S PREGNANT!!!!!!!.

Tears start to form in her eyes, she jumps excitedly in the somewhat dirty bathroom, and she goes outside to her mom. 

Mary sees tears in her eyes.

“Paige are you okay?” she asks, concerned.

She turns her head to face her “I’m fine, Just found out I’m pregnant” she says, holding the pregnancy test.

“Congratulations!!!” she says, excitedly.

Paige goes outside, and shows Mandy the test.

“You’re pregnant?!” she exclaims. 

She nods her head.

“Come on, let's go home, so I can tell the others” she says, and they go into the car.

They drive out of Falls End, down the road home.

When they pull into the driveway, Paige senses something isn’t quite right.

“Something doesn’t feel right” she says.

“It could be gas” Mandy says, “I had a lot of gas when I found out I was pregnant with Kate. But then it could’ve been all the Thai food I ate during that pregnancy”

They get out of the car, Paige wraps Cristina back in her wrap carrier. Mandy walks in front of her, she pulls out her gun, and slowly opens the door.

No one in the kitchen, or dining room.

When you enter the house the first room you enter in the dining room, and the kitchen to the left.

They hear shuffling coming from the living room, Mandy is the first one to enter, and sees Adrian, Martin and Cody tied up on the floor, somewhat bloody, shirtless, and struggling to release themselves.

“Shit” Mandy says, Paige walks in behind her and sees her friends tied up.

“What happened?!?!” she asks, panicking.

“It's the Cult they’re here!!!” Adrian exclaims, pointing his head to behind Paige and Mandy.

They turn around, and see some peggies holding Mark, Nate and Kenny hostage, they’re bloody, shirtless and it looks like they put up a fight against those Cultist fucks.

John Seed enters the room, and Paige’s mood changes from panic to pure raging hatred mixed with violence.

“Thought I wouldn’t get you?” he asks, with a smug cocky smile.

“And you thought it was a good idea to fuck with me? you asshole” she spits at him.

“Is that anyway to talk in front of your child?” he says, motioning to Cristina who is still in her wrap carrier. Paige notices John has a few scratches on his face

A couple of peggies grab them, and point their guns at them. John goes back into the other half of the living room, and brings Kate out who has duct tape over her mouth, a red handprint on her neck like she was choked, and her hands tied up.

“You little fucking shit” Paige yells at him, and is instantly, and aggressively pulled back by the peggie. Which makes Cristina cry, John rolls his eyes, and says “Will someone shut up that little beast!!!”.

That remark completely pissed off, and angered Kenny “You son of bitch” he mutters aggressively, and is pulled back by the peggie. 

The peggie that's holding Paige is about to grab Cristina out of her carrier, and she elbows him in the neck and he falls to the floor. 

She’s pretty sure she broke it with that hard, fast strike. 

“What the fuck do you want John?” she asks, trying to calm down Cristina.

“This” he says, looking around the house.”Your house, it's the 2nd biggest one in town, and of course mine being number 1”.

“Well you can’t have it. So why don’t you take your little merrymen, and get your lawyer ass off my property” she says, with rage.

2 more peggies come out from the other half of the living room, and they both grab Paige.

John approaches her, and says. “You see there is that Greed. You only care about yourself”.

Paige scoffs, and says. “Really? Is that what you think? I only care about myself?. Psssh no John, I care about my family, I care about my friends, but you know who I don't care about John? I don’t care about you, and your family. That does not make me greedy, or selfish, that means I’m selfless, don’t get those two words mixed up Johnny I know your small brain can’t handle that much. I care for my loved ones needs before my own. I care about my family’s business that my father, and his father, and father before him have worked so hard to keep together, and that is something you”ll never know about John”. She stops talking to catch her breath, and lets John take in everything that she said. 

She continues lecturing him “Hell Kate even told me that she told you everything about what my family does, she told me about the demon possessing you a few years ago when she was attending the University. By the way does Joseph know you had pre-marital sex with my sister? Because isn’t that a sin? You’re a hypocrite to own words John!!. But what do I know I’m just a nasty little sinner”. 

She can see the rage building in his eyes, the blue in his eyes are gone. 

Regardless she’s still not scared of him.

He smirks, turning his back to her, he grabs Kate’s arm, bringing her in front of Paige, while he stands next to her.

“It’s funny how you two are related. And yes I’m aware of your family business. Ghosts, vampires, werewolves they don’t exist!” 

Paige looks over at Mandy and rolls her eyes. 

“Then how do you explain Saleos and Merihem?!!!??” she asks.

He ignores her question, and continues his lecture to her

“Your family is filled with sinners. Didn't think I’d remember you Mandy, and after what Joseph did for you. After everything WE did for YOU. You betrayed us. You betrayed Joseph, and you betrayed God”

“God doesn’t give a fuck about you, or any of us!!” Paige yells at him. 

“YOU will not speak of him in that tone” John snaps at Paige.

He calms down a bit, and says while holding Kate’s throat. 

“Some of us had some sin to release, and I did my atonement”. 

He looks at Kate while still holding her throat. 

“And she did hers, whether or not I was in my correct mindset or not”

“Mindset? Or demonic possession?” Mandy says.

John ignores her question, and finishes with. 

“Jacob was very upset that you left, and he wanted me to bring you, and your friends and family to his place. You should know by now what that means”.

He tightens his grip around Kate’s arm, and takes towards the back door.

“But!!” he exclaims, turning back around. “I almost forgot the atonement” he says. 

The peggies turn Paige and Mandy around, and bring Kenny, Nate, Mark, Adrian, Cody and Martin in front of them, lining them up.

John goes through a bag on one of the chairs, and pulls out his tattoo needle. 

He stands in front of them with the needle in hand. All 6 men look at him with pure rage, and anger.

“So who wants to go first?” he asks. 

“Fuck off John” Paige yells at him from behind, but he ignores her remark.

“Kenneth, since your mouthy wife decided to try and tear me a new one. YOU should be the first one to go. Yes?” he says, pointing the needle at him.

“Fuck off, I ain’t saying shit” he snaps at him.

“Just like your wife. The Greed, I can see why you two married each other” he says chuckling. 

“Greed is definitely your sin” he adds.

“No, I ain’t giving in to you. Go fuck yourself” Kenny yells again.

John chuckles again “Why do you WINCHESTERS, make everything so difficult!!!!”.

“Because we’re the Winchesters not the Losechesters” Paige laughs flatly.

Kenny glares at her with “now's not the time honey” eyes, along with everyone else. Paige tries to figure out a plan to get John, and his merrymen out of her house.

Two peggies are holding her, one is holding her mom, three behind the guys and none are holding Kate. 

Paige stares at Kate as a way to get her attention, she looks over at Paige, and she automatically knows what she wants her to do.

"John?!!! John?!!?!" Kate mumbles, to get his attention away from the guys.

“Oooh what is it my dear?” he says, walking over to Kate. Now that she has him preoccupied. 

Paige looks over at Kenny, and he is already looking at her.

She points her eyes to the peggies behind them, and to the ones behind her and Mandy.

They have they’re way of communicating with their eyes, and she’s basically telling him. 

There’s 8 of us. and 6 of them, we kill the peggies, and have John as a hostage. 

Mandy sees their way of communicating, and already knew what they were planning.

All at the same time, they take down all 6 peggies.

Mandy elbows hers in the gut, and hits him with an elbow strike, Paige does the same with hers, and flips them over her shoulders while holding Cristina in her wrap. Stomping on their guts. Adrian, Kenny and Cody take out the other 3 in a similar fashion.

Leaving John defenseless.

Paige takes Cristina out of her wrap putting her in her playpen. 

John laughs nervously with his hands up. “This is the last thing you want to do. Killing me is not gonna be a good thing” he says.

“Oh don’t worry John we’re not gonna kill ya. We might have to convert you” Paige says, “And maybe kill you. But who knows maybe we”ll have a change of heart” she adds. 

They tie John to a chair in the kitchen, he looks completely annoyed, and now he knows what it feels like to be tied up, and a hostage. 

Kate walks into the kitchen and sits next to him, and says.

“You knew, you had it coming John”

He looks at her, and mumbles “Are you gonna let them kill me Katie?” 

She responds “If you cooperate, we won’t have to kill you”. 

He groans through his gag. 

Kate tries to have a heart to heart conversation with him.

“You know deep down I still care about you. Your well being. Because I know how much in love you were with me, and I know you’re still in love with me”.

He looks over at her, she can see the rage in his eyes. But there’s also love there as well, and it's overpowering it.

“Don’t even deny it because I know you still love me. Because I understand the pain you went through, I opened up to you about my past and upbringing. I wanted to put that behind me but I couldn’t. Didn't you see how hesitant I was when we first started talking? I never knew a guy like you would fall in love some dumb 19-20 year old college student like me. That was the closest I’ll ever have to having a normal life, but I gotta live this life until I die. I was brought up saving people, killing evil sons of bitches, and I went insane when that demon douchebag got to you. It drove me crazy”.

Tears start to form in Kate’s eyes, John tries to hold back tears, he never realized how much Kate cared about him. 

Paige is standing in the hallway outside the kitchen, and heard everything she said to John.

“I actually saw you in my future, as my husband, as the father to my kids. I’ll admit there are times where I’m jealous of Paige and Kenny’s relationship because that is one of the biggest rules with having a life like mine. No close friendships unless its with actual hunters of the supernatural, and no relationships”

She removes to gag from his mouth, and he says.

“I really meant that much to you?”

She nods her head, and they sit there in the kitchen. Tears in their eyes.

[max-is-really-okay]

Prom

Lex never thought about going to prom. Life was too hectic. Hannah was going to be in sixth grade when it was time for that night. Lex wouldn’t have time to shop for a dress or make plans, Hannah was more important than a stupid night out that would take weeks to save up for.

Sure, there were times when she and Hannah were at the mall and she’d see a pretty dress, full of blacks and purples. Hannah would tug on her arm, and the two of them would end up at the candy store. Lex would buy her candy, even though she wasn’t supposed to eat sugar. And it was nice to not think about the dress again.

Dentist appointments took time when other sophomores were trying to flirt with seniors to go two years early. Even when Ethan joined her little family, Lex didn’t think about the normalcy that they sort of represented. She couldn’t.

There were nights though, when Ethan came along, that Lex let herself fall into the teenage dream. Hannah was with Alice and Deb, safe and sound, and Lex could let herself relax a bit. She let herself take Ethan’s jacket that was too big on her, and talk about their dreams of leaving Hatchet Field behind.

Those nights were special. The two of them would have a few hours to do whatever they wanted. Whether it be as smoking up while sitting on the back of, or making out in the back seat of Ethan’s shitty beat up truck, Lex was able to be a teenager.

Those nights ended too quickly though. Eventually she had to go home. Home to her mom, who took almost all of the money she got from ‘Toy Zone’. Her mom, who was a violent drunk. Who dropped Hannah when she was only one. Who brought home any man who offered. Who didn’t care.

When Mr. Huston left, the nights of escape got smaller and smaller. She failed. She flunked out of school, and she went full time at ‘Toy Zone’. It only got worse when Black Friday came. She had left work when it started getting crazy, but then she had found Ethan on the floor of the movie theater. She got him to the hospital, but the bills took everything from their fund. The California dream was crushed.

Then someone called Child Protective Services on her mom. There were too many signs to ignore. When she was barely seventeen, she was told to pack her bags.

Things changed for the better when Tom Huston and Becky Barns adopted Lex and Hannah. Lex was no longer in charge of doctors appointments, or finding tutors who could help Hannah understand topics in school.

It was weird when they moved in. Even though, for the first time in her life, Hannah had her own room, she still slept in the same bed as Lex. And in return, Lex still made sure she was at every appointment.

Going back to school was another adjustment. Starting senior year with people younger than her was embarrassing, until she saw that she had at least four classes with Ethan. She had a feeling Mr. Huston had something to do with it when he winked at her in shop class.

She started to accept the whole ‘normal teenager’ thing when her and Ethan were finally able to go on their first real date since she had been adopted. Lex had been too busy preparing for the world to crumble down to do anything with him that took more than an hour.

Ethan had asked her on a date, a real date, when it had been seven months. She had accepted, smiling at him and kissing his cheek. “Christ Ethan, you don’t have to be so nervous about it.” She replied. She still kissed him and held his hand as they walked down the hall together.

It was weird, asking her teacher for an extended curfew. Tom just smiled at her, as if he knew something that she didn’t. It set her on edge. She felt like she was going to be tricked. Lex was so used to being cornered, that she felt like she couldn’t breathe as she waited for Ethan to pick her up.

When she opened the door, she felt the air get knocked out of her once again. Her simple dress no longer looked like effort on her part. Ethan had gone all out, he had even combed his hair. He held her hand when he saw her, “Everything alright babe? You look ready to run off.”

Lex just shrugged and kissed him, pulling him outside. She stopped once she saw his truck. “Shit Ethan, where did you get the money to get this fixed?” She asked. She looked at the new headlights and the new wheels. Even some of the old scrapes had been painted over.

“Paul and Emma treated me to it.” He blushed. Lex smiled at the thought. Ethan had been spending a lot of time with the adults. They had taken him in, in an odd way. “They kind of surprised me with it actually…”

Lex smiled and held onto his arm “Well maybe in a year or two you could talk them into a new truck. One that could get us to California.”

He smiled and kissed her before opening her door for her. “Well you’re a gentleman...where did that come from?” Lex asked, smiling as she climbed in.

“Tonight, Babe, is a very special night. Don’t freak out, but I have got a surprise for you.” He kissed her cheek and closed her door.

Though she tried to pry on the drive, he wouldn’t budge. Eventually he turned the radio on. Classic rock filled the air, and Lex let herself relax. She let herself feel safe when she was next to him. Even though she was still a little nervous, she let the tension out of her shoulders as he held her hand on the drive.

When they arrived in Clivesdale, Lex looked at her boyfriend, “Ethan. Where are we going?” Lex tried to ask again. Her voice was tinged with doubt. All of their nicer dates were at the shitty Olive Garden at the edge of Hatchet Field. Most of the places in Clivesdale were expensive and full of high end adults.

“Babe, just relax. I promise, I’d never let anything happen to ‘ya.” He told her, kissing her hand as he kept driving.

Soon they pulled into a steakhouse. One Lex remembered mentioning that she wanted to try before everything that had happened. “Holy fuck…” She mumbled in awe.

Ethan just gave her a smug smile and walked her inside. He ignored her look of shock as he checked them in for their reservation. They were led back to a table in the corner, the hostess even pulled Lex’s chair out for her.

Ethan seemed to be growing nervous throughout the dinner. His cocky exterior started to fade as they got their dessert. He was picking at his lava cake while she smiled at her cookie cheesecake.

“So, um, Lexie. This year is almost over, and prom is coming up. And now I’ve known you for, jesus, five years. You’ve always talked about how that shit isn’t important, but I was thinking, maybe, we could go anyways. Like, fuck the system, and we go anyways. What...what do you think?”

When Lex Foster-Huston is asked, she didn’t cry. She tells people that she smiled and nodded, holding his hand and acting cool as a cucumber. But, in that moment, she couldn’t lie to herself. She had started sobbing.

The night ended an hour past her extended curfew. She came home with her dress poorly put back on and her hair put up. Tom and Becky were on the couch, his arm wrapped around his girlfriend. “Well you were out late.” Tom started.

“Ethan and I got...caught in traffic.” Lex lied. She knew she couldn’t go up to her room until she was dismissed, she just hoped she wasn’t in trouble.

“Sure. We’ll believe that for tonight.” Becky smiled. “So, what did you say?” She asked. Her eyes were bright with her old cheerleader spirit.

“He told you he was asking me to prom?” She asked. Lex had to admit that she was a little more than surprised.

“He asked me for permission.” Tom smiled at her, “He came up to me, all nervous. Thought it might be right to get my blessing or some shit. Nice kid. I approve. Next time fix your makeup when you come back in, though, kid.”

Lex blushed. “Oh. Well I said yes. And, um, I’ll see you tomorrow.” She mumbled, going upstairs. She wasn’t surprised to see Hannah comfortably in her bed, holding Webby close as she slept.

She quickly changed into some of the pajamas that Becky had bought her and climbed into bed with her little sister, wrapping her arm around one of the two people she would do anything for.

“I got asked to prom today, Banana.” She whispered with a smile on her face. “Ethan made a big deal about it too. Bought me a nice dinner at that place in Clivesdale that dad was always talking about. One day we’ll bring you there too.” She smiled at the thought.

She fell asleep with her entire world in her arms, and she fell into a comfortable world of dreams. Full of unrealistic dreams of her future with Ethan. Lex still loved them though.

The next surprise came when Becky walked up to her holding Hannah’s hand. “What’s going on…?” Lex asked, her voice laced with suspicion.

“Prom dress shopping!” Hannah smiled up at her. Lex felt her heart melt a bit when she saw how excited her little sister was.

Becky smiled at her shocked expression, “We thought it would be nice to go as a girls day.” She chirped in.

The three of them drove to the mall that Hannah and Lex used to go to on their own. The three of them walked around after grabbing cookies for themselves and a soda for Hannah. They finished before they had gotten to the store.

They walked in and they were surrounded by formal dresses in a variety of styles and colors. Lex recognized a few of the dresses immediately from when she used to pass by the window.

She looked at a few and chose three to try on. One was yellow and flowey, Hannah had been eyeing it for years. Every time they would walk by she would point at it. Lex had to give it to her to at least try it on.

The other was blue. Becky had said something about it looking like her own prom dress. Lex thought that it was a bit...preppy for her taste, but she decided to try it on anyways. She owed Becky that much.

Lex looked down at her own choice. A purple and black dress that never seemed to leave the store. She had seen it when the store opened, and it was in her arms at that moment. She smiled at the two with her and walked into the dressing room.

She put on the yellow dress and looked at herself in the mirror. She bit her lip and walked outside. Becky and Hannah lit up, telling her how pretty she looked.

“I look like Spongebob.” Lex complained.

“Yeah…” Hannah agreed. That made Lex smile.

“Well why don’t you go back in there and try on another one.” Becky politely suggested. She smiled as Lex walked back in.

She put on the blue dress that Becky had found for her. It fit her well and made her look like a princess. It was a dress that she could see Venessa from her school buying. She would go on with her boyfriend Rick and the two would be voted king and queen. That wasn’t who she was though.

When she walked out, she thought Becky would start crying. She looked so happy, and Hannah was looking at her with wide eyes. “I guess I can tell what you guys think...” Lex smiled nervously.

“Well it’s a beautiful dress on you sweetheart.” Becky smiled, “But, we want to know what you think of it.”

Hannah nodded, smiling up at her older sister.

“I…” She didn’t know what to say. She couldn’t say that she didn’t like the dress, and if they liked this dress as much as they claimed, they would hate the other one.

“Try on the other dress.” Hannah blurted. She smiled at her older sister. “Webby says that this dress isn’t right. There’s...something wrong with it, but she won’t say what.”

Lex couldn’t be more grateful for a made up spider. “Well if Webby says that it’s not right, then it’s not right.” She smiled. She walked back into the dressing room and put on her choice.

When she looked into the mirror, she couldn’t stop herself from tearing up. It fit her perfectly. It was low cut and tight and then a touch of ballgown. It was dark purple and black.

She walked outside and both Hannah and Becky lit up. “Oh Lex… it’s so beautiful.” Becky smiled at her. She brushed Lex’s hair back and held her hand “You’re so beautiful.”

“It’s perfect.” Hannah smiled, hugging her sister. Lex held her younger sister tightly. She held onto Hannah’s hand.

“I think this is it. I want this one.” Lex smiled.

When they went to the register, the woman who owned the store stared at Lex. The more the older woman stared, the more uncomfortable Lex got.

“Yes?” She asked, biting her lip and tensing up.

“I’ve seen you before. Looking at this dress from the window. I was wondering when you were finally going to buy it. It’s why I haven’t thrown it out or put it on sale yet.”

“Who are you?” Lex asked.

“People call me Molag. Don’t know why, don’t care. Anywho,” She put the dress into a package “Take it for half off. It’s been here longer than your sister has been alive.” She smiled.

On the way home, Lex couldn’t believe how lucky she was. She smiled at Hannah, who was looking out the window. Becky was smiling at them from the front.

“Thank you, for the dress.” Lex told Becky.

“It’s the least I could do. You’re always helping around. I’m glad to finally help you.” She smiled back at the sisters.

Lex smiled back.

Prom came sooner than Lex expected. It felt like it was only a week, and Lex was in her room with Becky and Hannah getting ready. Hannah was happily painting her nails black and Becky was curling her hair.

“Tonight is the night.” Becky smiled as she finished with Lex’s hair.

“Yeah...it is. I’ve been waiting for it for a long time.” Lex admitted.

When she was ready, Lex almost couldn’t tear her eyes away from the mirror. She had always thought prom night would just be her and Ethan sitting where they could see Hannah. And she was okay with that. She loved her little sister more than anything in the world,

She smiled when she heard the doorbell ring, and she slipped on her silver heels. She walked down the hall and felt as everyone looked at her. Tom looked ready to cry, Becky had the biggest grin she had ever seen, Tim was giggling, and Hannah was cheering. And then Lex saw Ethan.

He was looking at her as if she was his entire universe. She walked over and looked at his hands. He had a small silver box. “What’s that?” She asked.

“You look beautiful.” He told her, not answering her question. “You always look beautiful. Every day I’ve known you, you’ve looked more beautiful than anyone I’ve ever seen. And right now, you look just as beautiful as that first time I saw you. But- fuck how do I say this? It’s different.”

“That was so fucking sappy…” She mumbled, but Lex noticed her strained voice. She kissed his cheek.

“I got you this...I think it’s called a corsage. Emma said that it’s what you give girls on prom, but I didn’t want to get you one of the pink ones… “ He rambled, pushing the box into her hands. “So I got you the best one I could find.”

Lex opened the box to find black and silver flowers “Jesus Christ Ethan...it’s beautiful.” She mumbled, hugging him.

He helped her pin the flowers to her dress. Tom and Becky made them pose for photos, and then the two of them were allowed to leave.

They started driving to the school and Lex smiled at Ethan. “I think this is the best night of my life.” She told him. He smiled and nodded.

They arrived at the venue and gave the volunteer their tickets. Inside, music was playing and tables were set up.

Ethan looked nervous as he spoke up above the slow music playing. “Do you want to dance?” He asked.

Lex smiled and nodded. And as she took his hand, she was happy to finally feel normal. As she rested her head on his chest as he wrapped his arms around him, she wasn’t upset that they weren’t in California. She was happy.

[kylankingfiction]

Ryoichi Ishino | Chapter 1

Chapter 1: The Origin of GQO (Part 1)

“Hey, look, Sakura has U.A. on her high school future sheet. There’s no way a quirkless tranny like you could get into U.A,” someone teased me as I sat at my desk, minding my own business. I sighed a bit, fed up with the name-calling and teasing. I scratched at my head, a frown covering my face. Hitoshi, my best friend, looked over to me, seeing if I needed any help, but I gave him no response.

“I’m sorry, first of all, my name isn’t Sakura, dumbasses. Secondly, I’m not fucking quirkless. Thirdly, who the fuck do you think you are? I’ve kicked your ass four times over in the last month alone. Wouldn’t you be sick and tired of getting beat up by me?” I retorted in a calm voice before giving my famous death glare at him. He just gave a cocky chuckle in response.

“What are you going to do, huh? Nothing!” He says, trying to provoke me before I turned my body and punched him across the face. I stood up and grabbed my things before walking out of the classroom as the bell rang. I heard the rest of the class hurry to leave me behind. I grumbled to myself, shoving people out of the way as I walked down the hall.

“Fucking extras…” I mumbled before I noticed Hitoshi catching up with me. “Hey, how’s it going?” I asked him casually, to which he just rolled his eyes in response. I sighed and folded my plan paper, and shoved it into my shirt pocket before tugging at my mandatory skirt uncomfortably.

“You do know I should be asking you that…” he mumbled quietly and then looked towards me, watching me being uncomfortable. “Also, remember what the doctors said… once you get your surgery, you’re not going to be able to work out. You’re going to end up physically weak, and you can’t keep fighting people like you are now,” Hitoshi says to me, clearly concerned. I swapped out my shoes with him before starting to walk home.

“I know, I know, seriously. I’ve been prepared for that…” I mumbled, looking down, shivering at the sight of my chest so prominent under my blazer. “These need to get the fuck off of my fucking body,” I mumbled, gripping my hands. I just wanted to be myself, regardless of what others thought. I just needed to be myself.

***

I was sitting in bed, bandages around my chest after my surgery. I was in so much pain and too sore, but other than that, my top surgery went well. I was working on schematics for gear since I will be fragile when the U.A. entrance exam comes around, and with permission and filling out forums, I can have the equipment.

I could hear someone knocking on my door. “Come in!” I call without looking away from my notepad, tapping my pen on the paper. In comes, Hitoshi is holding a bag of fast food, drinks, and his pack. “Hey, I’m here with homework, and I thought you’d be hungry. I bought you a ten-piece,” Hitoshi said as he walked in, coming to sit with me on my bed.

“Oh, thank you. I am now that you mention it,” I say to Hitoshi, chuckling a bit. I move my notepad off to the side and lightly reach out to him for the food, but unable to really since my body was so stiff. He chuckled and handed me the container of chicken nuggets, then my french fries. I set them down on my lap and start to eat. He then pulled out the packets of homework I needed to do today.

“Everyone thinks you got arrested, by the way,” Hitoshi adds, chuckling lightly. I shook my head as I looked at my homework and ate. “Yeah, I didn’t think you’d be too impressed,” he said, rubbing the back of his head. He moved on my bed and leaned against the wall as he ate his burger.

“It’s whatever, not that funny though,” I said, reading over the packet. I held my hand out for Hitoshi to pass me my drink, which he does without thinking. “Fuck, are you coming over after school every day with food? Because I can get used to this,” I said as I took a drink, which made Hitoshi chuckle.

“Sure, I don’t mind,” he said, smiling at me. I smiled back at him for a moment before I grabbed my pen and set the packet onto my small table my parents bought me so I could work on my bed. I started to fill out the responses as I continued to eat. “Can I see your progress?” Hitoshi asked me, seeing my notebook with my makeshift schematics open. I nodded without looking away from my paper.

He flipped through the schematics and looked at my hero outfit design as well. “These are pretty cool, but your hero costume is so boring,” Hitoshi points out, showing me the page with the hero outfit. “Why not make it more punk? It’s just a baggy jumper with the boots, gloves and goggles,” Hitoshi said, looking back at it again.

“I don’t know… My quirk doesn’t feel like- It doesn’t feel like its punk, and shouldn’t my hero suit represent my quirk?” I explained, shrugging a bit, continuing the homework, and eating. He nodded, sighing a bit, looking at it again, then smiling a bit.

“You could add some buckles; that’d be cool,” Hitoshi suggests, chuckling a bit. He took a pencil and started to sketch some out as I shook my head and continued to do my homework and eat the food, he brought them.

***

Hitoshi came over every day after school for three weeks straight, bringing me food and homework and then bringing my homework back to the teachers. It was my first day returning to school, and everyone kept asking me why I got arrested. I kept telling them arson, and it freaked people out.

“Why did you keep telling them you got arrested for arson?” He asked me as we walked towards the Karaoke bar my dad worked at as a chef. Most of the food there was his original recipes by this point. We were planning on letting off some steam by singing our hearts out like we always did when shit got rough.

I shrugged in response to him asking why I chose arson. “Because it was far left, and I’m dying to burn down the Endeavor building anyways,” I explained, chuckling a bit at the idea. Hitoshi puts his face in his hands and shakes his head.

“That is not something you should say when you’re trying to get into U.A., and you know that already,” Hitoshi said to me, making me laugh even more before and winced a bit, my body still being tense from the surgery. When we got to the karaoke bar, we went to our usual table and sat down, ordering some appetizers and sodas.

“Okay, I’m going to go and sing my first song,” I said, patting his shoulder a few times before going up to the guy running the karaoke and putting in which song I wanted, heading onto the stage. I started to sing January Gloom by All Time Low, getting the usual cheers from the regulars who knew me and the fact that I was the head chef's child.

***

I was sitting and watching Ryoichi on stage. They were so handsome. They had been growing out their hair after having it completely shaved for the last two years. They still had around a third of their head shaved, and then the long part was as long as their ear lobe. And the over-the-top makeup they used looked amazing on them. They had black and dark purple today and black lipstick.

Maybe I was in love with them, but they aren’t interested, and I’m okay with that. I told them that I had feelings for the last year, and they rejected me. But we’re still best friends, and they trust me more than anyone. I notice a guy at the table next to ours staring up at Ryoichi in awe as they sang. I walked over with my soda and leaned on his table.

“You must be new here. Ryoichi normally performs all the time. Their dad is the head chef,” I said to him casually, startling a bit by my presence. “I’m Shinso, that’s Ishino. They prefer their first name, Ryoichi,” I added, holding my hand out. I mostly spoke to him because I didn’t want this guy to misgender them.

“Oh! Uh, yeah. My friend told me this place is a good place to hang out, so I thought I’d check it out,” he said softly, glancing towards me. He saw me holding out my hand and shook it. “I’m Sero,” he said, looking towards me and then glanced back up to them. “She’s beautiful…” he muttered under his breath. I did everything I could to not frown at him.

“They’re nonbinary and go by them and them pronouns. They also don’t like being called pretty or beautiful,” I said, glancing towards Sero, seeing the way he looked at them. I wasn't into the fact someone was looking at them like that, but from what Ryoichi had told me, he was their type. Sero flinched a bit, getting an apologetic look, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Oh shit, my bad…” he apologized and then looked down at his drink, blushing a bit. He seemed to be, well, questioning his sexuality. Ryoichi was the one who helped me figure out I wasn’t straight, so this wasn’t that big of a surprise to me. “They’re handsome…” he mumbled, correcting himself.

“Hey! How was it?” Ryoichi cheered after running over, smiling brightly towards me before hugging me. Before I could say anything, they looked towards Sero, staring for a moment. A light blush appeared on their face. Knowing Ryoichi, their brain probably stopped working if they thought he was cute. “So, who’s this nerd?” They asked, their tone shifting to be a bit flirty as they leaned against the table, smirking a bit. Yup, they thought he was cute, and if I’m not wrong, their exact thought right now has to be ‘Cute nerd boy’ over and over.

Sero looked towards them, blushing a bit. “Oh! I’m Sero; Shinso told me that your name was Ryoichi,” Sero said nervously, holding his hand out for them to shake. They smirked and shook his hand.

“Nice to meet you, hot stuff,” they flirted with him, which made his whole face turn a bright red at their words. I chuckled and put my hand on their shoulder.

“I’m going to go and sing a song. Don’t scare him off,” I whispered to them, chuckling a bit, making them blush as they continued to flirt with him. I haven’t seen Ryoichi show such interest in someone so quickly. Maybe it’s the top surgery? They’ve slowly gotten more confident as they transitioned and gradually became themself more and more.

I went all the way to the stage and performed a song of my own. I watched the scene below of Ryoichi flirting with Sero. He seemed very flustered, but it was nice to see Ryoichi hit it off with someone like this since he appeared to not be against the idea of someone who wasn’t a girl flirting with him, so I wasn’t too worried about that.