#care what's in front of him. he walks into a pole once and ends up with a huge bruise on his shoulder. bernard presses on it for weeks.

[introspectivememories]

well now that we know the cult is back, imma need some heavy bernard angst from the comic. the panic attacks, relapses into unhealthy behavior, pushing people away, imma need all of it.

[lis-likes-fics]

Shades of Red

Pairings: Jonathan Crane x hero!Reader Word Count: 11.4k words Warnings: NSFW, smut, oral (m! and f!receiving), fingering, switch!reader, switch!Jonathan, biting, scratching, multilple orgasms, creampie, p in v sex, riding sex, slight praise kink, slight begging kink, slight degradation, swearing... A/N: I just really love writing for Jonathan Crane. Any Cillian Murphy character in general. Why is he so cunty? Just so good. Anyway, I hope you like it! Thanks!

It's busy tonight. The building has been filling with guests all evening, packed to the brim with men and women here for business and pleasure and everything in between. That's why you're so glad to be in here, tucked away in one of the private rooms of the club. Though less glad that you sit across the lap of a sleazy gang boss that you honestly find quite disgusting.

He has one arm wrapped around your waist and the other resting on your upper thigh. He's whispering in your ear, his lips so close to your skin that they brush her cheek every now and then.

The door opens and the both of you turn to see who is interrupting—for you, fortunately. A sly smirk slips onto your lips as you lay your eyes on a handsome face.

He smiles back at you, watching you through glasses, his unbuttoned shirt displaying his chest to you in his version of laid-back. It's a good look on him.

“Why, hello, Miss Cherry,” Jonathan Crane greets you as he closes the door behind him.

Benjamin looks at him and sits back, his hand still caressing your thigh as he sighs.

You chuckle lightly, licking your bottom lip as you do. “Hello, doctor,” you purr, beckoning him closer with nothing but a look. “I missed you last night.”

He walks forward, standing in front of you as he sets his finger under your chin. “Forgive me, angel,” he says, glancing at Benjamin. “I had business to take care of.”

He sits in the chair next to the sofa Benjamin takes up, leaning back and crossing one leg over the other. “Speaking of,” he sighs, “I think it's best you run along while Mr. Liste and I have a talk.”

You raise an amused brow, your attention shifting when the man in question speaks. “Nonsense,” he says. “She'll behave herself, won't she?” His hand lightly smacks your side and you nod, finding his touch particularly repulsive but being unfazed anyway.

“Of course.” You smile between the two of them, shifting your gaze to Crane. “Anything that makes you happy.”

Benjamin reaches inside of his suit jacket, pulling out an expensive cigar to set between his lips. You reach inside, pressing your hand against his chest as you pull his lighter out. You move slowly, sensually, in your quest to light the end. He thanks you with a grin, and you look at Crane with half-lidded eyes and a permanent smirk.

Crane stares for a moment. “Very well,” he concedes. He points at you with somewhat of a warning finger, tilting his head to the side. “But you have to promise me you'll keep this between the three of us.”

You feign surprise, setting a manicured hand over your chest with a soft gasp. “I won't tell a soul. Promise.” You raise two fingers in boy scout's honor and kiss them.

Benjamin laughs heavily. “That's a good girl.” Your skin crawls. “See? What’d I tell ya?” He hums, sitting back again as his hand continues to stroke you. “So what have you got for me?”

He shrugs, clasping his hands in his lap. “That entirely depends on what you have for me, Mr. Liste.”

He takes in a long breath, holding it for a moment before allowing a puff of smoke to gather in the air around your head. You hold your breath and stifle your tears before they can start.

“Give us a show, little cherry bomb,” he grins, patting you before you stand. You stalk to the wall, turning up the knob that controls the volume until you hear a song playing through the speakers. You go to the small platform in the middle of the room and take a hold of the pole, their eyes glued to your body, the skimpy clothes adorning you leaving little to the imagination.

Once you've begun dancing, they sink into their conversation, and you listen closely as you entertain.

“Shipments made it to the port last night,” Benjamin says as he flicks cigar ashes onto the floor carelessly.

Crane raises an inquisitive brow. “And you didn't tell me then?” You could feel the disdain from here.

Benjamin doesn't care as he shrugs. “Well, Johnny, me and my guys have decided we're gonna hang onto it a little while longer.”

Crane does his best to keep his anger seething and not explosive. He gets a better message across by staying calm. “That wasn't part of our deal.”

“Yeah?” Smoke billows from the butt of his cigar. “This is good stuff we've got on our hands. There are plenty of other interested parties who would double—even triple the fee you're offering.” He shrugs, letting out a heavy sigh. He looks away from you and points to Crane with his cigar. “Why should I give it to you?”

Crane stares at him, unblinking, his expression the same as when he walked in…perfectly cordial. “Let's just say,” he leans forward onto his knees, clasping his hands, “I provide traitors with worse consequences.”

And you believe that…

You've seen what it looks like in that godforsaken prison he runs.

“Let's just say…” he rolls his eyes, “if you can't outbid any of my potential clients, you're wasting my time.” He takes a smoke and looks back at you, admiring the way you move, raking his eyes up and down your body. Your skin feels like syrup, thick and slimy and sticky and gross.

“Besides, betrayal insinuates we had some trust going on between us.” He chuckles at the notion. “I don't trust you, you don't trust me. That's that.”

Crane sighs, looking away from him to look at you. When he drinks you in, you don't feel so slimy and gross. You wink his way just for the fun of it, just to tick Benjamin off just a little bit.

Benjamin clears his throat. “I want my money by tomorrow night at twelve. If you can't get me that, consider your shipment gone.”

There's a long pause as they watch each other, daring the other to give in, to concede and accept an offer. You see something change in Crane’s eyes as he sits back, humming to himself as he nods gently.

“Where shall I meet you?”

You're ready to listen when Benjamin turns to you, his gaze so demeaning as he speaks. “I'm gonna need you to cover your ears for this one, sweetheart.”

You smile, raising your hands to your ears to cover them. When he's sure you've been deafened, his lips form a word you have to piece together with your knowledge of shipment docks in Gotham. Chesterport.

He pushes off his pants, standing and making his way toward you as he sets a hand on your back, cueing you to remove your hands from your ears. You step down from your platform to join him on the floor.

“Thank you, Cherry,” he smiles. He turns to Crane, letting his cigar hang from his lips. “Twelve o'clock or it's done. You got me?”

You can make out the smallest smirk on his lips as he nods slowly. “Twelve o'clock.”

Benjamin chuckles heartily. “Good boy.”

You just know Crane hated that. Part of you finds it amusing. But you'd find it more amusing if you knew he wasn't going to do something insane over it.

“Come on, sweetheart,” Benjamin says, his face inching toward yours. You don't move, but it's clear he won't kiss you. He's big and powerful but he knows the rules. “You and I need a little one-on-one time.”

You chuckle lightly. “Of course, sir,” you murmur. You turn a seductive eye towards your Jonathan Crane, winking at him as you walk. “Buh-bye, doctor. I'll see you soon.”

He nods his head, his eyes dark with an unclaimed desire. The power you hold over these men is a delectable kind of knowledge. “Cherry.”

Blowing a kiss, you spin on your heel and walk away with Benjamin. He's going to pay for a lap dance, and then he's going to leave to take care of the rest of his business. Just as he always does. It's a more fortunate fate than it would have been if certain rules weren't set in place to keep the dancers here as safe as they can be in this godforsaken city.

And once he leaves, you can follow suit to get ready for a midnight appointment tomorrow at Chesterport.

~

Don't judge.

Living in Gotham is dangerous and fucking expensive. Saving it doesn't pay the bills.

If you have to swing on a pole and show a little skin for some extra bills to pay for rent, that’s what you’ll do. And, sure, being a vigilante in this city means you know the Bats. You bumped into him on your second mission, and he laid down the ground rules of you remaining a crime fighter from the very beginning (with plenty of threats to keep you in line with said rules). Over time, you’ve become close and you can honestly call The Batman your friend, but that doesn't mean he's paying your bills either.

Is it because you told him not to? Possibly. But you even it out by making him provide the needs for your weapons and other protections. He's a philanthropist, he wasn't going to let you get away without some financial support. (But it looks weird being funded by the Bruce Wayne when all you are is some stripper down at a popular and dangerous club in Gotham.)

The city won't thank you for helping to save it, but the men sure thank you for winking their way and making them feel a little good-looking every now and then.

So, yes, sneaking into the Wayne Manor isn't unusual for you, and he's never surprised to see you when you randomly appear in the bat-ridden cave.

“Why do you need a gas mask?”

You kick your feet as they dangle off the side of his desk where he tries to work—more improvements on his suit, it seems. Alfred is somewhere in here, but you suppose he's busy for the moment.

“Because Crane is up to stuff,” you shrug, picking up a precision knife and twirling it in your hands, “and that toxin of his is not something I want to have to deal with.” You had a go at it once before…it didn't end pleasantly.

Bruce taps through his tablet, looking at all the designs he has stored in it as he examines said mask. “When do you need it?”

You smile, looking as innocent as you can. But he's fallen immune to your charms by now, no matter how convincing you're trying to be. “Tonight?”

He sighs, shaking his head at your ridiculousness. “Why can't you just make your own?”

You roll your eyes. “Because I'm low on supplies with all of my bomb tech and mine won't be as good as yours anyway. Oh, and you're my supplier. So you're supposed to supply my needs.” When he raises a brow at you, you pout. “You don't want me getting hurt, do you?”

He huffs lightly, looking down at his tablet and murmuring to himself. “Seriously considering it.”

You know he's joking, but it's fun to screw around.

“Shut up,” you say. “It's because of me you have an extra load off your shoulders.”

He shakes his head but doesn't disagree. It's quiet for a moment as he thinks. “I'll give you mine—temporarily—while I make yours for future purposes.” He tilts his head. “Not that there should be one.”

You hum. “We've already had this discussion—and no, I'm still not going to quit.” You hop off the desk, walking around it to meddle with his things. “Besides, Crane is my best patron. What would he do if his favorite hero disappeared?”

Bruce brushes you off and ignores your activities, used to your antics. You have an air around you that drips with seduction and sexual debauchery that he has become immune to by now. So even when you run your finger down his shoulder and linger, he remains entirely unfazed.

He walks off, and you follow as he leads you to the wall of all his different techs. He pulls his mask from one of his suits, similar to that of a medical face mask, but this one is made of metal with respiratory tubes to prevent the user from suffocating.

He doesn't give it to you yet. “Where will you be again?”

“Are you going to crash?” you complain. “I can handle myself.”

He chuckles lightly, it's just a breath through his nose. “I am fully aware of your capabilities.” He shakes his head. “I have my own things to deal with, this is just as a safety measure in case you need backup.”

“Which I won't need.”

You reach for the mask, but he puts it out of your reach.

“Cherry.”

Your lip curls. You always find it amusing when he calls you that. He never uses your real name, always the stage name. It's always fun to hear him say it, so you throw him a bone.

“Chesterport dock at twelve.”

He studies you for a moment before slowly handing you the mask, which you snatch up as you turn on your heel to leave.

Don't get hurt.”

“Never do.”

He shakes his head and gets back to work.

~

Underneath the movement and conversation of the men at the port, the water sounds peaceful. It's easy to hide in a place like this. It's dark, full of giant containers that you can take cover in.

You're practically twiddling your thumbs as you wait there, the past near hour almost as boring as watching paint dry as these gangbangers do nothing but laugh loudly, play cards, all the stereotypical activities of criminals before any real activity happens. You're checking your watch for the hundredth time—a quarter to twelve—and feel a yawn arising in you. You stay later at the club, but this is just boring.

You almost chuckle as you consider taking a brief nap…like that would go over well.

“See? I knew you'd deliver, Johnny Boy.”

You perk up at the sound of Benjamin's voice. You look down from your hiding place, your eyes landing on Dr. Crane as he arrives with a group of goons behind him. He looks as sophisticated as ever. You enjoy looking at him.

He comes to a stop, staring at the man as he thinks to himself. Silently, he tilts his head slightly toward his shoulder and one of his guys steps forward with a briefcase. Benjamin does the same, and his meets the other.

They hand over the case, shoving the playing cards to the side as they set the case on a crate to open it up. Upon the first glance, Benjamin's face screws up in annoyance and disgust.

“What is this?” he scoffs. “This isn't even half of what we originally promised.”

Crane shrugs nonchalantly, clasping his hands in front of him as he sighs. “Your promises weren't kept,” he says, “why should mine be?”

Benjamin's angry now, and it honestly amuses you to see him so peeved as you continue to peer in on the confrontation. “Because I'm a powerful man with a lot of powerful friends.”

Crane’s brows furrow and he turns to look around himself. ��Funny,” he hums. “I don't see any.”

They stare at each other for a long moment, the air thick with suffocating masculinity (though a lot of it drips from Benjamin, as Crane doesn't necessarily need masculinity to frustrate him). Then Benjamin starts to laugh, throwing his head back as he takes it all as some sort of stupid joke.

“Alright,” he says. “I'll give you one last chance to deliver the money. And because you're being such an ass, Johnny, make it quadruple.” He takes a threatening step forward, to which he goons follow.

Crane and his guys don't move an inch.

“Otherwise, I'm afraid it will have to get a little messy.” His hand comes to rest on his gun, where it sits on his hip.

“Well,” he sighs, rubbing his hands together, “that's too bad. Because, you see, Benji, I don't do business with filthy men who don't keep to their word.”

Crane snaps his fingers and another man walks up to him, holding a briefcase that he opens. You brace yourself, unhooking one of the explosives from your weapons belt. You watch as he pulls out a pair of black gloves, slipping them onto his hands as he speaks, taking his own scarecrow mask into his grasp. “So I'm afraid it will have to get a little messy.” Behind him, you watch his few men put on masks of their own. You follow suit.

“And my name isn't Johnny…” he says as he gazes at Benjamin through the worn holes of his mask, “it's Dr. Crane.”

Bored with the stalling, Benjamin rolls his eyes and pulls his gun from his holster. Everyone braces, fully ready to start making bullets fly as the tension raises to meet a climax. Just as guns are clicking with the disabling of the safety, everyone pauses at the ominous sound of clink, clink, clink against the concrete ground.

It rolls, and all eyes watch it until it comes to an inevitable spot. At the sight of a giant red ‘RR’ painted on the front, they panic.

“It's Ruby Red!” Benjamin barks. We're compromised. Go!”

It’s too late to move as the bomb explodes, a loud boom! covering every inch of the dock as the sound echoes off the water. Smoke arises from the destruction, and everyone scrambles to their feet to run in different directions, disoriented from the blow.

You hear Crane’s voice over the commotion of coughs and grunts. “Get the cases!” he orders, and his men go to listen as they rush toward them. Benjamin's men follow suit, standing to rush toward them.

But you're quicker.

Another bomb explodes right on top of the cases. They burst open, a good deal of the contents destroyed. The men who are covering their ears to be rid of the ringing in their brains look around, conflicted on their next course of action.

Clearly, Benjamin is not amused. “Get what you fucking can!”

They listen, as if they haven't learned their lessons by now. They move, you bomb. And you do. Jumping down from where you'd been hiding this whole time, you land easily and toss another. It's perfectly nonlethal—you make sure of that—when that one goes off. It, at the very least, gets rid of a few insubordinates who run the other way after deeming three bombs a bit above their pay grades.

There's so much going on and not enough time for a lot of the people involved to process. When Crane and his men approach the cases after Benjamin and his men flee, he lays his eyes upon the bright red explosive and its green painted stem and is almost amused.

“Cherry bomb.”

“Take cover!” one of the men yells as he runs the other way, the others following in quick haste. Crane turns calmly, spying you standing just outside of the fray. He watches you reach for a trigger and leaps out of the way, ducking down to take cover as you set the bomb off.

The sound would have been deafening if you hadn't been standing as far as you were. There's smoke everywhere, some debris covers the ground. You walk past all the groaning men as they try to get their thoughts in order, checking the smoking cases and ensuring all the drugs have been properly destroyed—and they have, but just to be sure of it, you push the rest off the dock. Job well done, you'd say.

You turn on your heel, smiling underneath your mask. You think he's cute, standing like he is with a couple of his guys pointing guns at you. It's sweet.

When you toss the next bomb, they shoot it, honestly assisting you. It does what all bombs do: it explodes. Only this time, a bout of smoke covers the expanse of the air and it lingers. It sets over everyone and makes it easier for you to make your little get away as you hear boots stomping away as the rest of these “brave” souls escape.

“Long time no see.”

You turn, amusement coloring your face—though he can hardly see it between Bruce's mask and your masquerade-esc one of your own. You tilt your head as you take in the sight of him watching you closely. You walk nearer to him, but don't allow him too much pleasure of your up-close and personal company.

“You were behaving.”

He hums, shrugging a shoulder. “I wouldn't say all that.” He examines your little mask, and you can practically see his hidden smile. “Ooh,” he says, “smart girl.”

It’s your turn to shrug, “I know a thing or two.” You reach for your belt, unhooking the pair of cuffs resting there. “So are you gonna turn yourself in or do I have to do it myself?”

Crane hums. “I have other plans.”

“Alright then.” You sigh, playing with the cuffs as you peek at him through the mask. “I'll do it myself.”

He chuckles. You make the first move, stepping forward and pushing away his hand when he tries shooting you. You're hurt, honestly, as you disarm him and kick his gun away. With being so close, you have the advantage because you're faster than him. Every blow he makes is easily dodged by you.

When you turn on your heel and run, he follows after you as you climb on top of a few small crates, just to turn right back and jump onto him. It's easy for you to swing around his body until your legs wrap around his neck, taking another round before letting him slam into the ground with the strength of your throw. You land on your feet, allowing the cool night air to hit the skin of your bare arms and thighs. If only you hadn't had to wear so much protection, the breeze would have felt so nice.

You jangle the cuffs once more. “Last chance to settle down.”

Crane groans as he pulls himself up from the ground, his muscles sore already from the exertion of the fight. He pulls his mask off, revealing his pretty face as a deep sigh leaves him. He looks up at you with those cold blue eyes, examining your body from top to bottom as he does. His gaze lingers on your thighs, the supple flesh seemingly alluring to him.

“Actually, I was thinking something a little more…” you watch him reveal one of your cherry bombs to you, already lit as the sparks go down the stem of it, and he looks up at you and smiles, “...explosive.”

You already know that Jonathan Crane is mentally insane, but it's always interesting to see him prove it.

“Fuck,” you mutter, glancing at the missing space on your belt. “Well, bye.”

You grip a smoke bomb and set it off before his can blow, the both of you escaping just in time for the blow to take over. As Crane stands from his ducked position and he waves away the smoke to clear it up, his coughing subsides when he spies no sign of you anywhere.

But the memory of the cherry-shaped birthmark on the inside of your thigh is ingrained in his mind.

~

“Cherry.”

You turn slowly to keep from disturbing the tray of glasses in your hand. Spotting the origin of the call, he tosses you a key card.

“Room three.”

You sigh gently, passing the tray to another employee as you turn to make your way to the private rooms. You fix your hair on the way, renewing your lipstick as you come up on the hall.

You swipe the card, walking into the third room to set it up for your patron. You're waiting on the large sofa for all of two minutes before the door opens again. You smile at the sight of your customer.

“Why, hello, Cherry,” Crane smiles, closing the door softly behind him. He's not as fancy today, a button down that he has neglected to button all the way up and a pair of black slacks to match. It's a nice look on him, paired with his tousled hair and framed glasses.

“Hello, doctor,” you greet, your mood suddenly rising at the prospect of some alone time with your favorite criminal. “Do I have an appointment with you tonight?”

It’s been a couple of nights since you last saw him. He's been busy, you presume.

“You do,” he nods, walking into the room. You stand to meet him on the way. His eyes rake over your body, appreciating the sight of the dark red adoring your tiny skirt, your bralette, your lipstick. “I love that color on you.”

You hum gratefully. “That's kind of the point, isn't it?” It is your namesake, after all.

His hands land on your hips, grazing the bare skin they find with appreciative fingers. “What kind of red is it?” He hums, allowing his eyes to take you in. “Scarlet, rose…ruby, perhaps?”

You don't react, smiling at him as you ignore the heavy beating of your heart. Parting your lips, you let out a gentle chuckle. “Cherry.”

“Ah,” he nods, smirking. “That makes sense.”

Placing your hands on his chest, you begin to slowly walk him backwards toward the sofa. “What would you like, doctor?”

He falls onto the cushions with a little bounce, staring up at you with his piercing gaze. His hand cups the back of your thigh, caressing the skin thoughtfully as you stifle the shudder threatening to break. He smiles. “Dance for me.”

You nod gently, examining the expanse of his face. Jonathan Crane is a man of microexpression. He doesn't often let on what he's thinking, and he isn't partial to freely telling. You've always found yourself watching him too closely, waiting for a subtle change, anything to give away what he's really thinking. You take your bottom lip between your teeth, just the slightest nip before you let it free again.

“As you wish,” you whisper.

You break away from him, turning up the dial for the music to play, and walking toward the mini stage and its pole, just waiting for you to join it. You take hold of the cold steel, locking eyes with the man staring back at you, his gaze intense and unyielding. You like this little game between you, this game that pools so much heat within you.

He doesn't let a single movement go unnoticed as you dance for him. Every sway, every dip, every swivel is appreciated in his eyes, and you enjoy the attention at its fullest. He shakes his head, sighing to himself as he praises you.

“I love the way you move,” he says. “So smooth and graceful.”

You giggle lightly. “Why, thank you.”

“A beauty like you deserves to be praised,” he replies, leaning back with an arm thrown over the back of the sofa. He thinks to himself, nibbling his bottom lip and watching you closely.

“Well,” you turn back around, practically hugging the pole as you bend down low to your knees, “I'm feeling praised.”

You stand back up, slowly, sensually, never letting your gaze wander from his own. “Good.” His voice is nearly a purr.

There's a moment where he finds himself lost in the sight of you. He doesn't speak, he doesn't hum. His eyes stay glued to your figure, mesmerized by the spell of your hips swaying in the mood lighting.

He strokes his bottom lip, tilting his head up at you. “There was an explosion the other night at the dock,” he says. “Did you hear?”

You hum, “Here and there, the patrons talk.” You glance over your shoulder at him, “Which one?”

“Chesterport.” Again, you hum. “They say that Ruby Red crashed. Some of her bomb casings were left behind.”

That's one of the only downsides to your bombs. The casings. You don't flinch. “Was there something going on?”

He tilts his head, smirking. “This is Gotham, sweetheart. There's always something going on.”

You shrug. “Then it's probably not that bad.”

Your answers intrigues him. He furrows his brow, “I've never asked.” He sits up, leaning forward curiously. “What do you think about this vigilante, ‘Ruby Red’?”

You're treading on dangerous waters now. If you blow your cover to him, things could end really badly for you.

“You've never needed to ask. It's not really a topic of discussion here.” You turn to him, your dance never halting for a moment as you bend down, your hands on your knees as you roll back up to your full height. He never looks away, relishing in the intensity.

“But what do you think?”

You don't let any silence linger. You say the first thing on your mind and hope it's good enough to pass. You've always had a cunning tongue, you're sure you can get by well enough.

“I think that if she keeps busting the criminals of Gotham, then I'm going to run out of clients.” You chuckle lightly, “Same for the fucking Batman.”

His brows raise in surprise. “So you want her to stop.”

You shrug. “I want her to stay away from you.” You send a wink his way. “You pay me best.”

He sets a hand over his chest. “I thought we had a real connection, Miss Cherry.”

“We do,” you hum. You break away from the pole, stepping slowly over to him as you bend down to rest your hands on the back of the sofa, caging him in. Your faces are inches apart. You tip his chin up slightly with the very tip of your finger. “You, me, skin-to-skin, money-to-palm.”

He sighs gently when you let go of him, shifting your dance into his lap. “Naughty girl,” he tuts. “I thought I wasn't allowed to touch.” Just as he says it, he smooths a hand down your side.

“That's never stopped you before,” you chuckle. “You know you can touch, darling, you're just not allowed to fuck me.”

He hums regretfully. “Such a pity,” he says. There's another pause. “Have you ever been told you look like her?”

Shit.

“Like who?”

“Ruby Red.”

“No.” You look at him, raising an innocent brow. “Why, do I?”

He shrugs. “There's a resemblance.”

You turn it back on him, “So you've seen her before?”

He seems proud of that fact. He leans in slowly, catching your own chin this time. “Up close and personal.”

You love this little game of yours. You close more space, your voice low. “I thought she only got up close and personal with the bad boys.”

“Am I not?” he asks.

Your voice is a whisper. “A little bit.” You break away from him again.

He takes in a deep breath. Thinking. “Can I tell you something?”

You wink at him. “Anything you want, my darling doctor.”

“I was at that dock that night,” he confesses. “Chesterport?”

“Were you?” You feign surprise. “Were you misbehaving?”

He doesn't reply immediately, watching the expressions on your face as you continue on. He smiles, tilting his head. “Well, I wasn't behaving well.”

“Good. I find it boring when you do.”

“I saw her…” He grabs your arm, though not roughly. He takes your arm and pulls you back into him so you stand between his legs. He maneuvers your hands onto his shoulder, setting his own on your waist. You lean into him, wrapping your arms closer. “Up close and personal. I spoke to her, actually. You know what she told me?”

You tilt your head. “What?”

“ ‘You were behaving.’ ” He smiles, staring at your face. “That's what she said.” You still don't flinch. You can't. Anything you do could tip him off, but you have a feeling that your efforts will prove to be futile. He is insistent. “You know,” he narrows his eyes, “you sound a lot like her, too.”

Well, it's too late to change that.

You raise a brow, brushing your thumb over his cheek. “Oh, so you think I’m Ruby?”

“I think it'd be quite the reveal,” he shrugs. “You definitely picked a great work spot if you were her. You're surrounded by criminals of all kinds, you get good intel. Hell, you were here just the other night listening to my conversation with Mr. Liste. I mean, who else would have figured out when and where we were meeting?”

“Okay,” you laugh gently, licking your bottom lip, “even if I was Ruby, how would you figure it out? Because I sound like her?”

He licks his lip this time, sighing gently. His hand continues to stroke up and down the length of your thigh, loving the feeling of your skin under his palm.

“When I saw her,” he begins, “she did this thing where she put her legs around my neck—scandalous, I know. When she had me down, just for a moment, I saw something…” He hooks his hand behind your knee, lifting it up to his side. Your heart plummets to your stomach, but you ignore it in favor of being partial. “It was something…on her upper thigh, on the inside.” His hand smooths under your skirt, slowly, slowly pushing it up. “A birthmark.” He pushes it all the way up, the expanse of your flesh and the slip of your panties revealed to him. “Like a cherry.”

He looks down and pauses at the sight of your bare flesh, barren of any mark, any blemish—just smooth, clear skin. Stopped in his tracks, he hums as he looks back up at you.

You raise a brow, lifting his chin. “Are you done?” you wonder, letting your hand fall back to his shoulder. “A few inches more and you would be past the touching rule.”

He tilts his head, his other hand reaching toward your leg. You reach a hand down, forgetting yourself as you grab his wrist and drop the smile from your face. Your eyes lock, and he grins. You know he's won as you drop your hand.

He wipes the makeup from your skin, the cherry birthmark showing itself in all its splendor. His hand lingers as he stares up at you. His triumph is subtle. There isn't much he needs to say. He leans back, brushing your knee.

“Hello, Miss Ruby.”

You stare at him for a while, planning your next course of action. You could kill him, but then you'd have to face Bruce—and you don't want to do that at all. You could knock him out, claim he broke the “touching” rule, but he'd just let the cat out of the bag. Then you'd be dead.

So instead…you smile. You smile at him and show how impressed you are by his investigation. “Smart boy,” you praise, mirroring his words from a few nights before. “The one time I don't cover it, you find me out.”

He shrugs. “I know a thing or two.” He sighs, examining you from head to toe. He taps his fingers on your thigh. “Now what is to be done about you?”

You let out a long sigh as you lower yourself into his lap, moving closer so that your bodies are practically pressed together. You keep your arms around his shoulders, playing with the hair at the back of his neck.

“You keep quiet,” you smile, “or I put you behind bars? Maybe I'll even throw you in one of your little cells at Arkham.”

His own hand smooths along your thigh, coming up higher so it strokes the round of your ass. “Sweetheart, you are in the middle of a nightclub run by one of the biggest bosses in the city.” He cradles the side of your neck like he'll kiss you. “Do you really think you’ll have the upper hand when they learn that one of their favorite dancers is also one of the city's pesky avengers?”

Your face doesn't change, but your heart is beating so quickly. You think he can feel it with the way he holds you, his hand right over your pulse. The danger you would be in if anyone ever found out is dire…

“All I would have to do is offer to take you in, ensure you never cause problems again. They would release you to me, and I could do…” you swear you can see his eyes rolling back, feel his body shuddering at the idea of such a thing, “...whatever I wanted.”

You refuse to admit the things his words are doing to you.

“I could make you crazy. I could make you…absolutely deranged,” he suggests. “I could visit you every single day, turn your mind to mush, have my way with you as long as I wanted.” He breathes in deeply as he removes his glasses, resting the tip of it between his lips as he sighs heavily through a grin. “You would beg me to do things to you that would make a good girl blush.”

You could almost feel your thighs shaking. The anticipation of his threat—his promise—is sent straight to your core as you try not to clench around nothing. He'd surely feel it with the way you sit atop him. The very idea has your heart beating even quicker, but you don't show it. Not even for a moment. You can't show such a weakness to him, he'd never let you live it down.

So you simply hum and shrug a nonchalant shoulder. “But you won't.”

“Won't I?” He sets his glasses down and leans in, so close to your lips yet so, so far all at the same time. His eyes pierce your soul, they dig deep until you can't control the slightest shiver rushing up your spine. “You'd be ruined. Even worse, I could give a heads up to the cops. You'd be on the run from both sides of the fight.” He chuckles, “I could make things…extremely difficult for you.”

He licks his bottom lip between his teeth. Just thinking about it makes his blood sing. With a sigh, he seems to calm himself. “Or…I could make things rather easy. Beneficial, even. It would be nice having someone like you in my pocket to get rid of my competition when I need it. And it'd be nice for you to have someone like me to deliver information to you when you need it.” He pinches your chin lightly. “This could be a very mutually benefiting relationship.”

When he stops, you raise a brow at him. “But?”

“But,” he agrees, “if we decide on this, I require some assurance.” He shrugs. “Attention, if you will.”

Your lip rises in a smirk. “You want me to fuck you?”

He hums. “Decisions, decisions.”

You roll your eyes to keep from clenching your thighs. Shaking your head, you glance away as you feign disgust. “Ugh,” you groan. “You're such a man.”

Completely unbelieving, he questions, “And you don't want me?” You turn back to him. “You're telling me that you don't wish we could do more than just…touch?” He raises a hand to your cheek, hovering his lips over yours as he teases you. You try not to react, but it's hard. “Do I not attract you?”

You steady your breath. “And what makes you think that I do?”

There's a moment of silence where he just…watches you. The amusement glints in his eyes and you know you've screwed up…again.

“Do you know why a cat's eyes expand so much when they look at their owners?” he asks. “Like little dimes.”

You chuckle. “Because they love their owners. This is not that.”

He disregards your answer. “Well, some of the science is a little more practical. In the dark, pupils will expand to let in more light in order to allow our brains to take in more information. When looking at someone you find attractive, your eyes will expand in the same manner—to take in more of them, to gain more information.” He strokes your cheek. “Every time you look at me, sweetheart, your eyes grow ever so slightly. Right now…” he smiles, “dimes.”

You don't want to hear this. “Listen, Jon–”

“You lick your lips a lot in order to draw my attention to them, to raise my attraction for you.” He tilts his head, and you have to fight the urge to lick your lips as you do the same, forgetting your smile as you stare darkly at him. You don't appreciate the way he picks you apart like this, things so hard for you to change. Mental, psychological things.

“You mirror me.” You straighten your head as soon as he says it, which only makes his smile grow. He's so proud of himself. You want to prove him wrong but you keep proving him right. “You adopt my mannerisms in order to create a bond between us. When you look at me, your body–”

“I think I get it,” you interrupt quickly. You've heard enough.

“Oh…” he pretends to pout. “Don't feel bad. You did try so hard to hide it. But you forget, I've dedicated my life to studying these kinds of things.”

You look away from him, thinking quietly to yourself as you contemple on your course of action. You really don't have much of a choice…

Bruce could protect you, you're sure, but you'd still be in a lot of danger. They would never stop looking for you, none of them, and you know that one day they would.

You sigh, “So I either fuck you or spend the rest of my life running from both the law and crime.”

He tuts to himself, too proud of himself to hide his grin. “Decisions, decisions.”

You really have no choice. On the bright side, you're getting laid.

You collect a big breath, letting it out in a heavy sigh as you release your inhibitions and give in. This should be fun, at least.

“I'm warning you,” you say, “I'm a scratcher.”

He smirks. “I'm a biter.”

Your lips crash together as you grip his hair between your fingers, pulling roughly as the both of you join in a fierce kind of passion that leads to flushed skin and heavy breaths and trembling limbs. It's the kind of passion that burns anything in its wake and leaves you questioning in the morning whether or not you regret the night before.

Immediately he lives up to his word as his teeth sink into your bottom lip. You moan into his mouth, moving his head back as you lift onto your knees to tower over him. The lust is fast, and the urge is strong. He grunts against your lips, pulling you closer to his body as you both devour each other in rough, carnal desire.

It sets a fire within you knowing that you’ve managed to turn the calm and composed Dr. Crane into just another man desperate to give into his lustful cravings. He’s no longer the esteemed doctor you know him to be…now he’s just Jonathan… and that’s a sweet reward you’ve already grown a tooth for.

You grind into his lap, sighing at the way his growing erection feels rubbing into you. A choked sound erupts from his throat as he grabs your waist, moving your hips against him. Your moans fall from your lips, a deep sound in your chest meant to encourage him.

You place a hand over his, gripping it to pull it away as you remove yourself from his lap. Sinking onto your knees, you look up at him through hooded eyes You undo his belt with quick fingers, caught in the heat of the moment. He watches you with kiss-swollen lips, his breath unsteady as you look up at him through hooded eyes. Your hand strokes his lap, moving closer and closer to his crotch before the palm of your hand is massaging him.

He groans, and you can feel his cock twitching in his pants. Eager to set him free, you release him from the confines of his slacks and take him in your hand. A breath escapes you at the sight. Half-hard, he’s well-endowed, and the tiniest part of you feels guilty at the way you feel your need for him rising within you. That part of you is quickly squashed by that same need as you massage the head of his cock with your thumb and he lets out the most delicious sound.

You inhale the heady scent of him, there’s something so expensive and male about him. As you dip your head down, you drag your tongue along the underside of his cock and listen to his quick breath. The dribble of precum that lands on your tongue is a welcomed taste that you immediately endorse as you wrap your lips around the head of him. When you suck, Jonathan’s a goner, reduced to little grunts and tiny puffs through his lips. You’re guessing he doesn’t get laid much.

But a man of his temperament? You suppose he doesn't need to.

He’s hard by the time you’ve taken him down to your throat, your lips brushing his pelvic bone as the slightest gag tickles your throat. You moan as you come up, suckling around him before letting him slip out with a pop. Through grunts, Jonathan shakes his head as he looks down at you. “Come now, sweet girl,” he says. “You shouldn’t play with your food.”

It amuses you that he refers to himself as food. You were pretty sure this whole time he depicted himself the predator and you the prey, but you’re sure there’s an insinuation in there that still leaves him in charge. Either way, you just let a deep chuckle bubble in your chest as you take him again. His hand tangles in your hair, flexing there as he holds you with no real intent to guide you. Yet.

You bob your head up and down his length, keeping your rhythm slow and measured to tease him without actually teasing. And he lets you for a while, watching you with blinking eyes as you suck around him. When he’s fed up, his grip in your hair tightens. “You can do better than that, Cherry.”

You take his words for what they are and suck harder. His jaw clenches as he inhales sharply through his teeth. His gasping hand urges you on, guiding you up and down the length of him to feel his rising pleasure. You move faster, forgetting your teasing for the sake of the heat between your thighs. It grows as you listen to his irregular breaths, as you feel him twitch in your mouth. Your hand snakes between your thighs and teases your clit through the fabric of your cherry red panties.

Between your laving tongue and his tightened grasp, you make quick work of building him up. When you swear he’s on the verge of losing the remainder of his control, he pulls you off of him with the same sultry pop as earlier. He leans his head back and catches his breath, licking his chapped lips as his hand flexes in your hair.

A grin spreads over his lips as he lolls his head to take you in once again. “You’re something special. I knew you would be,” he says. “I wonder if your little cunt is as tight as your throat.”

His words send shivers down your spine, but you’re good at pretending they don’t. Or, at least, if he notices it, he doesn’t say anything. You slowly rise to your feet once more, crawling back into his lap in an attempt to kiss him again. As you lean in, his hand meets your throat as he keeps you away from him. He eyes you, a predatory gaze in his eyes watching your bated breath, your dark eyes, your fluttering lashes.

Without a word, he maneuvers you to lay on your back, his hand still wrapped securely around your throat as he spreads your legs wide. You bring a hand up to his arm, gripping it as you allow your nails to dig into the skin. He smirks, bringing a hand between your thighs and teasing the fabric covering your pussy.

He groans deep in his throat, chuckling to himself. “You’re so fucking wet. All from sucking my cock.” He presses his finger against your clothed clit and a tiny gasp leaves you. It’s a delicious sight. “You’ll do perfectly,” he says mostly to himself.

Another shudder runs down your spine, but this one is more perceptible. A dark chuckle arises from his chest as you watch him smooth his hands over your body, slowly, slowly stripping you of your clothes. Your tiny skirt being pulled down your legs, your decorative bra in all its lace being unhooked from your chest. He sighs contently at the sight of your bare breasts, one hand reaching up to cup you before he kneads the doughy flesh in his palms.

You moan at the feeling, your eyes fluttering closed as you arch your back against him. His finger flicks and circles your nipple, shooting an election shock straight to your core. Your clit pulses, needing him so badly to pay attention to it as he does your hardening nipples. His other hand brushes down your skin and dips beneath your panties, if not to give you what you want, then to remove them from your body. And he does, very, very slowly as he distracts you with his hot tongue on your sensitive nipple, his mouth latched on like he's starving.

What you're doing is dangerous. If anyone were to catch you, you would both end up in a lot of trouble—you probably more than him.

You could say he made you do it—technically he did; although considering your willingness, it probably doesn't matter. You could say he forced you down and ripped your clothes off, told you he would hurt you if you screamed. That would mean he broke the rules, he would be punished according to Gotham fashion.

But he could just as easily spill your secret on the table. He could tell everyone who you were, and that's more dangerous than being fired for having sex with a patron.

There are so few decisions, all with terrible outcomes that could lead to a very difficult life for you.

But you don't have the time to think about that when his mouth latches onto your pussy. Your back arches and your eyes squeeze shut as he licks into you. Your parted lips gasp for breath as his tongue plunges deep inside of your hot cunt. A deep groan shudders within you, and you bury your hands in his hair in an attempt at pulling him even closer.

He mumbles something against your soaked folds, pulling back with a sigh. “Fucking delicious,” he praises, diving back in with the drive of a starved man.

His fingers prod at your opening, pushing inside of you and filling you with the thickness of them. They curl and you curl with them.

You wrap your legs around his head and dig your heels into his back. When he sucks on your clit, you're a goner. Every lick and suck only grows your need for him, for this awful man who you cannot allow to cloud your judgment. But it's far too late for that. You roll your hips against his face, needing more but only receiving what he gives you—the deep coaxing of his fingers, the insistent licking of his tongue, the cruel sucking of his lips.

Your legs twitch as you near that desperate release. It's becoming too much. You need it so badly, you can almost taste it–

You whine when he pulls away from you, licking his lips as he pulls away. “You're so needy,” he chuckles. “As much as a needy whore as I thought you'd be. You know, this job suits you almost as much as plain prostitution would.”

You ignore him because he's annoying. You unhook your legs from his shoulders, moving to sit up with a hand on his chest. For the moment, he lets you lay him back against the arm of the sofa.

“I think it's unfair that I'm naked and you're still fully clothed,” you say, reaching for his buttons.

He hums. “Then you should fix that…”

You straddle his hips as you undo his buttons, taking your time in unlooping each individual one as more and more of his skin is revealed to you. You smooth your hands over the expanse of his chest, leaning forward to take his lips between your own. You sigh against him, your hands grasping his sides, and you can't help the way your nails dig into his skin and drag.

A strangled moan erupts from his throat, his head knocks back at the feeling. He reaches up to grab your arms, cupping your elbows as he grinds his teeth. A heavy breath escapes you, and you reach your hands down to undo his belt. “And you call me the whore,” you quip, a devilish smirk curving your lips.

Jonathan chuckles when you unzip his pants, lifting his hips to help you pull them down until he's completely bare, save for his shirt hanging off his shoulders.

You smirk, leaning down to ghost your lips over his. “I think I should make you beg.”

He raises an amused brow. “Do you now?” He leans forward as you shift away from his face. “And what makes you think I'd beg you for anything?”

“I just want to hear you say it.” Your lips barely brush his, pulling back when he pushes forward, pushing forward when he pulls back. “It's not a big deal. I just want you…to beg me…to fuck you.”

The pauses are where kisses should be. But you don't give them to him. You stare at him, your eyes taunting and your lips swollen from the abusive kisses they'd been granted earlier.

The more time you spend staring at him, the more intrigued he becomes by you. He could not have come across a better business partner…

“Fine,” he shrugs nonchalantly. You feel his cock twitch at the lips of your pussy, wanting so badly to be inside of you. He licks his lips, taking in the smallest breath, “Please, Miss Ruby…” he says as his hands find your waist. “Please fuck me. Please wrap that pretty little pussy around my cock and ride me like the good girl you are.”

You smirk as you shudder, his dominance over you mixing with his—albeit weak—begging for you creating such a sweet cocktail on your tongue.

“See?” you whisper, finally bending down to close the gap as you wrap your lips up in his. Pulling away, his teeth hold onto your lip before he lets it slap gently against your bottom teeth. “That wasn't so hard, was it?”

He grabs your hips and pulls you down, his perfectly aligned cock thrusting all the way into you in one fluid motion. Your moan is sudden, a trembling thing that makes your eyes flutter and your lips part so prettily. He grunts as he leans his head back. You can see the veins in his neck, his clenching jaw. You curl your fingers around his shoulders as you hold on tightly to them.

A quiet curse drops from your lips as you roll your hips on top of him. It's a deep roll, one of those movements that require your whole body to complete. He fills you with himself, and you can't help the shudder that comes from the way he encourages your hips.

Lifting up just barely to the tip of his cock, you drop yourself back down and allow a louder moan to fall out of you. Already drunk on the feeling, you chase it in quick succession, rising and falling and rising and falling until you create a steady rhythm full of the sounds of slapping skin, the slickness of your arousal mixing with his. It's easy to become addicted, it's easy to succumb to the feeling that is only this forbidden kind of pleasure.

You're a hero (of sorts), and he's a villain. You're not supposed to be riding his cock in the middle of a nightclub, moaning his name as he moans yours.

Your hands grasp eagerly at skin, each sudden spike of pleasure forces your nails to dig into his awaiting flesh. The groan he gives is nearly a whimper as he twitches inside of you.

When you look up, your eyes are caught in the reflection of a mirror across the room. The sight of your bodies moving together, the grinding, the thrusting, the grasping—your head is swirling with intoxication.

“Your thighs are shaking so much,” he huffs, his hands tightening on the meat of your thighs. He pushes you further down, and you nearly choke on your own breath.

Your eyes flutter at the mirror, stuck to the sight. “That's good, baby, keep doing that,” you moan, spurring on his desperation.

You actually whimper when he presses the pad of his thumb to your clit. In tight, quick circles, he builds you up as you continue to ride him. Your moans rise, high and breathy and way more pathetic than you intended for them to be.

“Jonathan,” you gasp. The roll of your hips becomes more demanding, short and quick. You're not going to last long like this. You squeeze your eyes shut, “Just a little harder.”

“You're so,” he huffs, “good for me.”

You know he hates it, but you're so blissed out that you can't bring yourself to care when you moan out to him. “Jon, I'm gonna cum.” You drop your head, gripping on tight and thrusting your hips. “Fuck, you're gonna make me cum.”

He doesn't seem to care either, his fingers still going on your clit. “I'm not going to let you cum until you beg me, sweetheart.”

It doesn't matter if it's supposed to be an indignity. Blissed out or not, you couldn't care less about begging him for anything. Your job was the pleasing of (usually) men. Even though you're not really supposed to be fucking them, there are other ways for them to take their pleasure without touching you.

So the words tumble effortlessly from your lips as you continue to grind. “Please, baby. Please let me cum, I need it,” you gasp, your words urgent and full of the need that's driving you.

His thumb rubs faster, rougher, keen on making you fall apart above him. That's all he wants right now, to feel you fall apart from the pleasure he gives to you.

When you do, it's with a muffled shout. Yes, the walls are thick, and yes, it's unlikely someone would hear you, but you don't want to take that chance as the pleasure raids your body. It soaks into your bones and leaves you trembling. You tighten around his cock as he groans, watching your eyes glaze over with the intensity of your release.

Your eyes squeeze shut, your lips part as you gasp for breath. Your hips stutter in their quest to draw out your orgasm for as long as you can as your thighs shake.

“Fuck.” The sound is nearly a sob, still struggling to come down from your high as you let out a couple more rolls. As you look down at him, your mind slowly coming back to you, you can't help your smirk as you stroke your hand over his chest. “You did so good. I'm so proud of you.”

Jonathan ignores the tiny swell of pride at your praise, sitting up to kiss you in that hungry way he seems to love. He pulls out of you as he continues to sit up, moving you backward until he's got you laying on your back. You look up at him, your hands playing with the hair at the base of his neck. Your limbs are heavy, your legs still twitching with the aftershocks of your release.

“Now that you've had your fun…” he says, as though he didn't enjoy watching you above him, riding his cock and telling him good he was making you feel. His teeth graze your jaw, nipping you as he does, “...it's my turn.”

You're still sensitive from your fresh release ,but you don't think he cares. It doesn't matter much anyway. You've concluded that this man is as good with manipulating bodies as he is with manipulating minds.

He takes your leg, spreading you wide to open you up as he pushes his cock back inside of you. You both sigh when he buries himself to the hilt, but you don't have time to relish the delicious stretch because he's already fucking into you, thrusting into you fast and rough, like this is his last chance to do it.

Your eyes squeeze shut, the oversensitivity pickling at you before it melds into the white hot pleasure of his cock. He fists the arm of the couch by your head, his knuckles white and his jaw clenched.

His hair falls over his forehead, sticking to the sheen of sweating coating his skin as his erratic breaths pass through his plump lips. A rough thrust has you whining his name, your arms wrapping around his shoulders and finding purchase at his back. He ruts into you like there’s no tomorrow, his grunts and groans fading in your mind as you lose yourself in the pleasure.

“Fuck, you're so tight,” he grunts. “I expected you to be well used, sweetheart, but this cunt feels fucking new.”

You know he's calling you a whore, but you really don't care. It brushes just right and sends tingles through your body, tingles that are drowned by the crashing waves of his desperation. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, holding you still.

You feel Jonathan's tongue dart out to lick a slip of your skin, and your breath shudders when his teeth graze at your flesh. It feels nice, the way he uses his teeth to mark you. His breaths pass as moans in your ear, and you can't help but to hold him closer, your nails sitting idly in their burrowed spots at his back.

On a rough thrust, he slips up as he clamps his jaw around your shoulder, nearly growling as he loses against his need to sink his teeth into you. The sudden pain that spasms from his bite shoots through you, and you can't help but to moan at the feeling. One of your hands flies to his hair, tangling in his dark locks and pulling lightly. “Fuck, yeah,” you sigh. “God, that feels so good, baby.”

He pulls away from your neck, though his thrusts never let up. He pins you down as he fucks you, reaching a hand out and bringing it down hard on your ass. You gasp at the feeling of his harsh slap, but it only elevates your pleasure until you're seeing stars.

He smacks you again, but your little cry turns into a whine as his thumb meets your clit. He's close. You can feel it. He clenches his teeth and presses his forehead to yours as he continues to fuck into you. Your head swarms with the taunting of a release, your breaths mingling and your mixed arousal smearing all over your skin, dripping onto the couch beneath you.

“Fuck, Jon. Baby, I'm gonna cum again.” You can't stop the words from coming out of you. They're heavy and demanding, they crave attention just like the rest of you.

His nose nudges your neck, inhaling your scent and muffling his higher pitched grunts. “Gonna cum in you, Ruby,” he huffs. “I'm gonna fuck my cum into this tight little pussy.”

His sloppy thrusts support his claim, replacing the measured pumps of his cock into an erratic rhythm that takes you too long to catch up to. You wrap your legs around his waist to pull him deeper. “Please,” you gasp. “I'm so close.”

His hips continue to snap into your own, shoving in hard and rough, reaching so deep that you think you'll be feeling him for days. The pad of his thumb on your clit continues to build you up, bringing you higher and higher until you can no longer control yourself. The coil in your gut snaps and sends you spiraling, your vision blurry and white as you gasp until you can no longer breathe. Jonathan's grunt is more of a whimper as you rake your nails down his back, certain that you're leaving your mark on him as he'd left his mark on you, trading his purple bruises in for angry red lines in his flesh.

A whiny kind of moan tears from your throat as you grind your hips into him, urging on your release. Jonathan moans as your walls spasm around him, clenching so tight. Your cry gets caught in your throat, the blunt head of his cock still pounding inside of you as you fall apart.

He uses you to his own end, his blinding release catching up just to spill inside of you, painting you in white. With a growl, his teeth sink into your shoulder again and they don't let up. The sharp pain mixes with the pleasure until it's all a blur behind glazed eyes.

It takes a while before the pleasure wanes enough for him to loosen up. “Good girl,” he coaxes, lost in the aftershocks of a powerful orgasm. Your legs shake and your jaw ticks as you continue to milk every last drop of his cum, ensuring none of it goes to waste.

Your breaths sound loud in your ears, both of your heavy sighs mixing together as you settle. He pets your hair, pulling away from your neck and watching you through lust-blown eyes. With as much strength as you can muster, you lean forward and push your lips against his. The kiss is just as demanding as the first few, but not as focused, your exertion adding to the laze of it.

With one last rough thrust—and a surprised cry from you—he pulls out of your full pussy. You whine at the empty feeling he leaves you with, especially when he lifts his weight off of you to stand. When he does, his eyes shut as he winces at the pain he finds in his back. Nevertheless, he stands to his feet and stretches his back, sighing at the few pops he finds in the process.

You lay lazily on the couch, an arm draped over your eyes as the other hangs off the cushion. You feel good, after a lazy stretch of your own (also accompanied by a few satisfying pops), you feel loose and limber.

Jonathan leaves you laying there as he redresses himself, taking time in buckling his belt, in buttoning his shirt, in adjusting his hair. You lounge on the couch, shifting onto your stomach and watching him through hooded eyes. You're dripping between your thighs, the air smells like sex, and you're going to have to take a very long shower after this, but you honestly couldn't care less.

You're going to have to figure out how to weasel out of this (temporary, if you can help it) deal of yours, but that's a thought for later. Right now…you're content.

He comes to stand in front of you, looking down as he reaches for his glasses. Placing them on the bridge of his nose, he smiles at you. “I look forward to seeing what we will be desecrating next, Miss Cherry.”

There's an insinuation in his words that alludes to the world outside of this club, ie…he knows where you live and he has no problem showing up to renew your deal. It's an issue and it erupts goosebumps all over your skin, but you feel too good to think about it.

You reach an arm out, wrapping it around his waist and pulling him forward. You open a button near his waist on his shirt, pressing your lips to the bare skin underneath. Then you look him in the eyes as you button it once more. “I will be seeing you, Dr. Crane.”

He chuckles, turning on his heel and walking toward the door. You look after him and hope you're not totally fucked.

Cillian Murphy taglist: @lyarr24​ @runnning-outof-time​ @goblinjnr @kmc1989 @shelbyisms @weepingwitchofthewest @cl-0-vr @thoticious @sinarainbows @the-nerdy-goddess @urmomsgirlfriend1 @bernelflo @dragonslayersupremacy @alurafairy @pietroxreader @darkcastle167 @neonpurplestars89 @motopoppp @mrkdvidal1989 @thegen3sisark @niktwazny303 Tag yourself here...

[xkotaro16w]

Can you do a scenario of Leona's female reader pole dancing please? Cause I was listen to the Hazbin Hotel Addict music video, and I wanna read his reaction of his girl pole dancing to the song

—𝙻𝚎𝚘𝚗𝚊 𝙺𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜𝚌𝚑𝚘𝚕𝚊𝚛 𝚂𝚎𝚎𝚜 𝙷𝚒𝚜 𝙵!𝚂/𝙾 𝙿𝚘𝚕𝚎 𝙳𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚒𝚗𝚐—

Summary: Scenario/short scenario where Leona sees his S/O doing pole dance to Addict - Hazbin Hotel. What’s Leona’s reaction?

Pairing: Leona Kingscholar x F!S/O.  

TW: Fluff, slightly overthinking, slightly suggestive, grammatical error, OOC.  

A/N: ngl it's been a long time since i wrote SUGGESTIVE THINGS (slightly suggestive 2) jhbahabghabgjan ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) Welllll i hope u like this 1 MUEHEHEHE (⑅˘͈ ᵕ ˘͈ ) I THINK THIS IS BAD EABJWKBAJGAHWGJAGAGAJ

Pole dancing is one of your passions, people might think it is an easy dance yet you receive a lot of bruises from the training itself, falling a million times too. Being able to perform pole dance in public is not easy, but once it happens, it is fun and feels satisfying.

Your boyfriend, Leona, does not know you are trying to perform one in public, in front of him, and lots of people. Wait, does he even know you have this kind of hobby? Maybe yes, maybe no. You would rather make this as a surprise for your lazy boyfriend.

Will he like it? Will he think this was outrageous? Are your clothes all nice?? What about your makeup and hair? Do you need to stare in the mirror for hours again like you always do before performing? What if the performance fails? Sometimes you hate how much you overthink about something. After all, you can not blame yourself because you want to show your best to everyone and your boyfriend.

Peeking from behind the stage to see the audience, it makes you feel even worse, well maybe it was a bad idea to peek at them. When you take a few deep breaths, close your eyes, and encourage yourself that you can do it, you walk up to the stage with a smile on your face.

The music starts playing and you start dancing. A familiar figure stopped in his track and stands there, you peek out of the corner of your eyes. It is Leona Kingscholar. After his eyelids and eyebrows lifted, the change occurred in a matter of seconds, a wide grin appears on his lips. Oh my, Leona needs a chair to watch this performance. For him, this is not just an ordinary performance, this must be a special performance to surprise and entertain him, right? Once he finds a seat with a good view to watch your performance, he sits back and enjoys the entire performance until the end.

His emerald eyes are on you, only you. Nothing could disturb him at the moment. The way you move, the way you make those expressions, dear, is this some kind of torture? If it is, he will gladly accept it. He may want you to perform personally for him or watch your practice. Leona could not stop grinning throughout the performance. Herbivore, this entertainment is what he wants from now on. Oh, not to mention you are looking at his way with that seductive expression. Are you free after the performance, herbivore? He needs a little help with something.

But what if you have the courage to approach his position and… Do a dance in front of him? Are you trying to make him go crazier? Because it works. You could see him looking at you like you are his next prey; he is ready to savor you.

Right after the performance ended, Leona approaches you in the backstage, locking his green eyes solely on you and grabbing your waist as if he finally caught his prey. You look in the eye with a smile, or even a grin to tease him about the performance you just put on.

“Herbivore, you really are somethin’, huh.” His eyes continued to stare right into your eyes without looking at anywhere or anyone.

“You better not run away from me after what you just pulled on,” his voice becomes lower and deeper.

Well, care to put on a show in front of him again, herbivore? He is more than happy to enjoy it.

I DO NOT OWN TWISTED WONDERLAND & DO NOT REPOST MY WORKS.

[specialagentlokitty]

Negan x reader - trade skill

Hello. I was wondering if you could please do Negan X reader, where Negan is unable to find Lucille and thinks that someone has taken her. So he has people to search every area in Alexandria (I think it is), only to later find out that Y/N took Lucille in order to clean and repair her, and accidentally forgot to notify him. - Anon💜

You didn’t know why a lot of the saviours were taken to Alexandria, you had a thought maybe it had something to do with Rick not doing what he was supposed to be doing.

You weren’t all too sure but you didn’t really have the time to find out either, you were busy with your own project which is why you refused Dwight when he came to get you to go with him.

Was it the smartest choice?

Definitely not, and you knew you were going to get it in the neck from him and most likely Negan after, but you were always in some kind of trouble.

Sitting on your bed, you picked up the pair of wire cutters, carefully getting ready to cut the barbed wire.

You had already caught your arm once, you just tired a bandanna around it and carried on working.

You had to be careful, you didn’t was to break it, and you had to do everything exactly right otherwise you would be more screwed than you were going to be.

Setting the old barbed wire aside on the floor, you picked up the new one and looked at it.

It was a little rusted with the weather, but it was in a lot better condition than the other one.

Wrapping it around like the other was, you nodded to yourself a little.

Setting the bat aside, you got up, grabbing everything you had been using to fix it you shoved it into a box and left the room.

Making your way down to where the workers were, you walked over and set the box down.

“I’ve not used it all so I’m sure someone can get some use out of it.” You said.

The man looked up, nodding her head as she set the box on the floor.

Humming to yourself, you began to browse through the other things that were laid out on the table, looking for something of interest.

Finding nothing, you decided to head outside instead, looking for some part of a fallen tree or a decent sized branch for a new project.

“Hey (Y/N)?”

You looked to one of the other saviours.

“We got problem with the walkers out front, a few got free somehow.”

You sighed, stopped what you were doing and you pulled out your knife, following him to the front where some of the walkers were banging on the fence.

“You said a fucking few, this is a mini horde dumbass.”

He just shrugged and you glared at him.

“Go get the fucking pole idiot.”

He grabbed the pole and you tried to make quick work of clearing the walkers that were building up.

You heard the cars and trucks pulling up and you ignored it, stabbing the final walker in the head, you turned to the man who went to leave.

“Not so fast, you’re waiting here I’ll deal with your ass in a minute.”

Opening the gate, you walked through the bodies, maybe your way to the far end of the fence, slowly looking along it.

For the walkers to get in the gap would have had to be pretty big, so it wasn’t hard to finally find it.

Kneeling down, you carefully inspected the fence and grabbed some zip ties from your jacket to seal it temporarily for now.

Making your way back over you looked at Simon.

“Sort your dumbass out Simon, this fucker hasn’t been checking the fence, there’s a massive hole.”

“You fix things, you sort it.” He said.

“Not my job asshole.”

He stuck his middle finger up at you and you did the same thing, walking over to the doors to head back inside but you stopped by Dwight.

“What was the trip about anyway?”

He glanced at you.

“He’s pissed someone took that stupid bat of his, I’d stay clear.”

You slowly nodded your head and glanced at the leader.

You had three options, either sneak the bat back into his room, leave it somewhere for someone else or come clean.

You didn’t want someone else to take the heat for your actions, and you couldn’t exactly sneak it into his room so with a heavy sigh, you walked over to where he was stood.

“Negan?”

“What?” He snapped.

He turned around and glared at you and you subconsciously took a step back.

“I know where Lucille is…” you mumbled.

“Where?!”

“I uh… could you follow me?”

Negan didn’t say anything as he trailed behind you, and you took his to your room, opening the door and you gestured to the table.

He walked inside, picking up the bat, carefully inspecting it.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing with her?”

He slowly turned around and you stepped inside the room, closing the door so nobody passing by could look in.

“I uh.. I forgot to tell you…”

“What the fuck were you doing with her?” He growled out.

You sighed, heading under your table you pulled out a box and set it down, showing him to contents.

“I noticed that Lucille was breaking, and you left her on the table so I decided to fix her and forgot to tell you.”

“Why?”

You shrugged a little.

“I like fixing things a guess, plus you wouldn’t be Negan without Lucille.”

Negan stared at you and you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him, but you could feel his eyes practically burning into you.

You couldn’t tell if he was still angry or not, and part of you didn’t want to know.

At least if he wanted to kill you for taking his beloved bat then you wouldn’t see it coming so it would make it easier.

“Look at me.”

You took the box, setting it back under the table and began to inspect a few of your things, just doing anything to avoid looking at him.

“I said look. At. Me.”

You turned around, connecting your eyes with his, he wore a blank expression and you watched as he slowly began to grin.

It was that grin that sent a chill down your spine, the same grin that you knew was the last thing some people saw.

“She looks just as good as the first day I made her, shit (Y/N), if I knew you were so handy I woulda moved you ranks ages ago.”

He put the bat on his shoulder, stuffing a hand in his pocket as he looked at you.

“What do you want? Name me one thing and it’s yours.”

“Anything?”

“Damn straight.”

You went quiet for a moment.

“You got anything else I can fix?”

Negan blinked a little in confusion.

“I just gave you permission to ask for anything, anything you fuckin’ want, anything at all, and you want to fix shit?”

You shrugged a little and he laughed.

“Fucking weird as ball man, but alright. I got a few things for you, you’re to return them directly to me.”

“Yes sir.”

Negan began looking around at a few things you had already repaired and made.

It was why he kept you around at first, you were just handy when it came to fixing something that had broke.

He turned around to look over at you.

“How’d you know how to fix her?”

You paused what you were doing.

“My dad owned a repair shop, mostly just household shit, but he could fix up other crap too, loved baseball.”

Negan slowly nodded his head.

“Next time you take Lucille without asked I’ll start breaking fingers.”

“Understood.”

He smirked at you, and he picked up a little figurine you had fixed of a baseball player you didn’t even know the name to.

“I’m taking this too.”

With that he left and you let out a sigh of relief.

Maybe you shouldn’t have drawn more attention to yourself, but in the world it was now, you needed to have people you could rely on, so you needed to prove yourself to Negan if you wanted a chance of being kept around and surviving.

Maybe you didn’t agree with how he did things, but you sometimes had to do these things in order to survive

[mieeaahhh]

A really looonngggg list of the most useless and boring all for the game head-cannons

Characters:

Neil Josten

He has those two crooked teeth at the sides of his mouth that look like ‘fangs’ and big two front teeth (me too, me too😔)

Wears caps backwards like a freak loser weirdo

He doesn’t care much about facial piercings but he ends up getting a few more ear piercings after awhile (and then he got a tongue piercing because someone told him he wouldn’t)

Regularly walks into glass doors and poles by accident and tries to play it off and act cool when really he just looks like an absolute dumbass

Sneezes like an old man

He wakes up from nightmares sometimes thinking his legs are gone and panics before realising that he’s okay and that he’s safe

Curly mullet curly mullet curly mullet curly mullet

His mum did his ear piercings for him as another way to change his appearance

Once woke up from a nightmare and punched Andrew instead of Andrew waking up from a nightmare and punching him. Andrew had never woken up so confused in his life and Neil burst out laughing while apologising and he immediately forgot about what his nightmare was about

Andrew Minyard

Once he starts relaxing more while sleeping in the same bed as Neil he starts sleep talking and it’s always about something ridiculous or completely random

I’ve said this so many times but idc. Andrew didn’t have any piercings until he moved in with Aaron and Nicky because Aaron has piercings and Andrew thought they were cool

Is good at baking and enjoys it but if you held a gun to his head and told him to cook dinner the gun would go off

When he was a kid he was really into space and constellations and sometimes he’ll point them out while on the roof with Neil

Covers his mouth with his hand or turns his face away when he laughs

He has Arfid? I think that’s what it’s called

Hides away whenever he’s sick because as a child people have gotten angry at him for being sick as it was ‘inconvenient’.

Aaron Minyard

Has slight claustrophobia from when Andrew locked him inside the bathroom. It’s not that bad most of the time but sometimes if the door gets stuck for a second or he’s in a small room for too long then he silently freaks out (he also hates going inside lifts)

Was really big on dinosaurs as a kid. his favourite teddy was a little terradactyl (idfk how to spell it I’ve been trying for ten minutes😭) and he still keeps it under his pillow

Gives the most nastiest looks to people without even realising

Mumbles to himself a lot about the things he’s doing like a narrator

The type of person to not know where their glasses are when they are on top of their head

Whenever he does something that makes him think the person he’s with will get angry with him he either freezes or makes himself smaller

Aaron has a weird thing with being perceived and will often stop doing something (like reading or whatever) if someone sees him/walks in until they go away.

Kevin Day

He’s autistic but only got diagnosed when he was in the foxes (like a few months or so after Wymack finding out he’s his dad and stuff)

Scared if butterflies the same way people are scared of wasps and bees

Sleeps face down and snores really loudly but is in denial about it

He has a keyring that he carries around with him everywhere because he was going to give it to Jean but never got the chance and now he feels it’s a bit late to do it now

Has the most beautiful handwriting

Nicky Hemmick

Really long eyelashes

Had a really bad and embarrassing emo phase that he refuses to talk about but one time the twins found old photos of it and framed them to mess with him

Tongue and smiley piercing

He’s in a the family group chat Erik has with his family

Opening up about his personal problems is hard for him. He thinks that if he’s upset about something then people will get annoyed with him and he’s scared of being an inconvenience

Renee Walker

Dyes her hair to match the holidays

She’s transgender mtf

The first time she died her hair was after she was adopted by Stephanie. She messed it up and Stephanie had walked in on her trying to fix it and offered to help her. It was one of the first things they really did together as mother and daughter

She always stands with her hands clasped together either in-front or behind her

She always has unique/fun hair-clips in her hair

Allison Reynolds

When she’s anxious about something she kinda just rubs her hands together or rubs them across her neck or legs repetitively

She LOVESSS shopping but always enjoys it more when someone is with her (it normally ends up being Neil, Seth or Renee)

Hips + bellybutton pierced🙌

When she was a kid she refused to wear anything but princess dress costumes and tiaras for like two years

A lot of her clothes/accessories or glittery or shimmery but she actually hates glitter because of how inconveniently messy it is

Kisses peoples cheeks to greet them

Matt Boyd

He’s the type of hugger that lifts up whoever it is he’s hugging (Aaron, Dan and Neil are victims of unexpectedly being lifted of the ground and seeing their life flash before their eyes)

Will, has and still does break it down to Brittney spear’s whenever she comes on

He has a tattoo on his hand on a flower and a tattoo on his shoulder of his exy number

He wanted to get both his eyebrows pierced but chickened out after getting the first one done

His favourite animal is a crocodile and has been since he was a little boy. His childhood toy was a teddy crocodile that he still keeps on his bed

Dan Wilds

The foxes all got Wymack a Father’s Day mug with their names signed on it once. It was Dans idea and it was a moustache on the bottom of it

She LOVES maximalist gold jewellery and is covered in it most of the time

During and after her time with the foxes she keeps in touch with her old work sisters and does secret Santa with them every year

Nose freckles nose freckles nose freckles

The teams ‘bonding’ activities are normally planned by her

Seth Gordan

He has dyslexia but is in denial about it and pretends he doesn’t know what dyslexia is💀

He is absolutely COVERED in freckles

He’s wanted to be a professional Exy player since he was a kid and it’s always what he’d tell people he was going to be before he joined the foxes. He lost hope in becoming one after signing with the team (kinda canon lmao?)

He looks the most like his father out of all his siblings

David Wymack

Proper BAWLED his eyes out at Dan and Matts wedding. It was the first time any of the foxes had seen him cry and they thought it was hilarious

Doesn’t know how to work a phone and holds it far away from his face like an old lady to read messages

Has a moustache🫡🤤😍🥰😘

Had an eyebrow piercing as a teenager but took it out YEARS ago

Abby Winfield

Was like super goth as a teenager

Has a tongue piercing and is a FAKE BLONDE🫵

Her only friend growing up was Betsy

Has a raspy voice🤤🤤

Betsy Dobson

Her style is very colourful and maximalist. She wears funky jewellery, crazy accessories and patterned tights, etc

She enjoys crocheting from time to time

She had a crush on Abby when they were in school with each other

Jeremy Knox

Big front teeth like a rabbit

Cries during sad movies. Like full on heaving sobs

Was very very shy as a kid and didn’t have many friends before the Trojans

He’s never really been aloud to do do things like dying his hair, dressing how he wants, going out more than a day a week if he was lucky, getting piercings etc etc so he’s honestly kind of afraid of being himself and a part of him still doesn’t really know who he is

Frecklesssss

A haver of the OCD🫡

Really bad at hiding his facial expressions. If you’re annoying him you WILL know about it but he won’t know that you know🧍

Jean Moreau

Moles EVERYWHERE

Sometimes he has days so bad that he struggles to even drink water because it feels like he’s choking

He’s very fidgety. Never sitting still for too long and whenever he’s holding something he’s always playing around with it in his hands. He fidgets very subtlety as he can though because he doesn’t want people to notice it

His favourite films are the buddy’s films

Absolutely SUCKS at any kind of game, board games, card games, video games etc he’s ridiculously bad at them

The toaster gives him a fright every single time it pops. Even when he pops it himself with the button

Resting sad face

Katelyn Mackenzie

She’s one of the cheerleaders that get thrown up in the air (I don’t know anything about cheerleading it isn’t really a thing where I live)

Her hair is really really curly and long

She’s the oldest sibling of four and the youngest is adopted

She’s always been quite popular amongst her peers growing up because of how kind, helpful and friendly she was but she’s never really had a best friend until the vixens (I like to think her best friend is a really goth girl in the cheer team)

Her part time job as a teenager was babysitting and she LOVED it

She’s 5,11

Groups:

The Monsters

They have a group-chat but they don’t really use it

Have all just fallen asleep in the car outside of Eden’s instead of driving home by accident a lot

They don’t take photos with each other but Nicky has taken sooooo many sneaky photos of them all

When Robin joins the foxes and eventually joins the monsters they all treat her as if she’s their little sister and her parents have invited them all for tea/dinner a few times

Kevin and Aaron are the only ones that can’t drive

Had a karaoke night once and have all agreed to never ever speak of it again

Once Andrew sorts his shit out Katelyn joins them in their outings sometimes

The upperclassmen

Go out for dinner together quite a lot

Were all bridesmaids/groomsmen at each-others weddings

They’ve got a group chat that is still used years after graduation even though they are all busy with their own lives now

They do those hangout things when they all make a PowerPoints about whatever they want and present it to each other etc yk?

They all have matching tattoos of their exy numbers

On the anniversary of Seth's death, the foxes and Wymack gather at Abby's place to have dinner together. They don't really talk about him but they leave one seat empty.

The floozies

They have BBQS together a lot

All have some sort of matching thing like a bracelet or t-shirt I just can’t think of what it would be lol

Cat and Laila have a photo wall/photo album full of photos of them all

They are always helping Jean have fun experiencing things he never got the chance too. He probably won’t tell them directly but he appreciates their patience

Kevin being obsessed with them is a bit of an inside joke of theirs. “Hey guys do you think I look okay in this?” “No but u know who would!” “If you say Kevin I’m punching you in the fucking face” (???) idk how else to demonstrate that LMAO

Love love love having sleepovers at Cat and Lailas

The Vixens

They were all weary of Katelyn’s boyfriend being Aaron grumpy loser pants Minyard but they eventually warmed up to him

When Melissa/Marissa(?) first joined the vixens after being in the foxes she struggled fitting in with everyone. Katelyn was the first friend she made on the team

Most of them are probably the nicest people you will meet in Palmetto and couldn’t care less about the foxes but a lot of them absolutely despise the foxes and want nothing to do with them

Katelyn has her own little group of friends in the vixens who Aaron eventually joined and is now the main source of their gossip (he mainly bitches about Neil and Andrew)

They all absolutely ADORE Robin

Relationships/couples (cannon and not lol):

Andrew and Neil

Andrew runs cold and has to sleep like he’s hibernating for the winter while Neil runs hot and needs a fan (Andrew hates the fan. It is enemy #1)

The cats were Andrews ‘idea’. (He found them outside and took them home without saying anything)

Neil has had to carry drunk andrew a few times because Andrew likes being difficult

The team all have AT LEAST one photo of them sleeping together . On the couch, in the bus, in their bed, ON THE ROOF? They all have one

Andrew enjoys shopping and has a wardrobe full to the brim with clothes. Neil just wears Andrews clothes most of the time

Andrew sits on Neil’s lap more than Neil sits on his but Neil LOVES holding Andrew’s hand

They bake together sometimes but it usually just ends up with them throwing flour at each-other (poor Andrews completely black outfits)

They both actually get ‘flustered’ quite easily around each-other but with Neil it’s literally Impossible to tell. Andrews entire face goes red but that’s IT

Andrew paints Neil’s nails sometimes when he’s bored (it’s obviously black nail varnish too)

Andrew let’s Neil pin his hands,eventually, enjoying being safe in his hold

Aaron and Katelyn

Katelyn is the big spoon🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️

Katelyn enjoys baking but Aaron doesn’t so he is always just sitting on the counter and watching her bake

Aaron is a lot quieter/more insecure than Katelyn is so she’ll often be the one in control of the conversation whether it’s just them two or a group of people but Aaron is a lot more comfortable being himself when he’s with just her (Their a Sunshine and rain cloud basically🙄)

Katelyn’s parents ADORE Aaron

Aaron buys flowers for Katelyn every single time he comes over to see her. When they get a home together he buys her new flowers every week

Katelyn is a big kisser while Aaron is a big hugger

Katelyn always kisses Aaron repeatedly on the face when she’s trying out new lipstick (leaving him covered in lipstick marks how adorbs and lovely)

They are both very physically affectionate with eachother

Katelyn takes 0.5 photos of Aaron all the time trust

Dan and Matt

Matching pajamas🙏🙌🗣️

Randy absolutely loves Dan and is constantly going on about how lucky her son is and how beautiful Dan is etc etc

Matt is the type of guy to wear a t-shirt covered in pictures of dans face at the club or a “I <3 my GF” shirt

They do face masks together during movie nights

Matt absolutely WORSHIPS Dan and it’s so painfully sweet it causes tooth aches

They go on a date once a week after graduation

Wymack walked Dan down the isle at their wedding and was absolutely SOBBING while dancing was giggling at him

Matt doesn’t know how to tie a tie because he’s got hashtag daddy issues so Dan usually does it for him

Always touching somehow. Shoulder to shoulder, hand in hand etc

Seth and Allison

He liked her bossing him around👁️👁️

Sometimes when they were bored Seth would try do Alison’s makeup and she wasn’t aloud to help him and it always ended up with them cry laughing

Allison would help Seth shave his head when it got too long for him

Allison had Seth saved as “wife🏳️‍🌈” in her contacts LMFAO

After he died the foxes photo wall had a photo of him put up with his name and birth to death dates. Allison is the one who picked the photo

Allison always manhandled Seth into doing his skincare and eyebrows etc because she was NOT going to have a scruff as a boyfriend (he secretly enjoyed it)

He liked it when she scratched his back because of her long fake nails

She was the first real girlfriend Seth had (and the last)

Allison and Renee

Allison helps Renee dye her hair when Andrew isn’t around to help (sometimes they both help her at the same time)

Renee is silently a little shy around Allison and gets flustered at all the compliments and praise Allison gives her (Allison is head over heels and is very very much flustered but she can’t let people know that🙄🙄)

^They are basically just very awkwardly sweet with eachother

Allison always ricks Renee’s hair behind her ears

They go on picnic dates a lot during summer and spring

Renee fell first, Allison fell harder🫡

Stephanie is the embarrassing type of mother that’s always teasing her kid about their crush and she most definitely teased Renee about Allison

Renee makes homemade valentines gifts and Allison gets expensive valentines gifts

Allison loves Renee playing with her hair

Renee enjoys taking off Allison makeup for her at the end of the day and always kisses the tip of her nose when she’s done (taking the fake eyelashes off is her favourite part LMAO)

Allison has gone to church with Renee and Stephanie a few times during Christmas

Allison always kisses Renee’s wing tattoo

Renee reads before bed a lot and Allison falls asleep listening to her sometimes

Renee and Allison and Seth (hear me out I’m begging)

Renee and Seth are both dating Allison but they are not dating each-other 🙅‍♀️🙅‍♀️

They are both very playful competitive when it comes to Allison and she thinks it’s hilariously sweet

They have a groupchat named “Renee is cooler” and Seth is a dumbass who doesn’t know how to change the name

After Seth died Allison and Renee stopped dating for a while. Allison needed some time to herself and Renee was okay with that

Renee and Seth are low-key best friends (obviously! they have the same girlfriend) but pretend to be enemies in a way that’s like almost as if they are at war against each-others kingdom LMAO

They all go on dates together but they also take turns going on dates

Seth helped allison help dye Renee’s hair once and accidentally got the dye in his and Allison hair. He was never aloud to help again

Allison sleeps in the middle and they rotate the spooning lmao. One night Seth spoons Allison while Allison spoons Renee and another night it’ll be the other way around. Sometimes they are both just curled into Allison 🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️

Stephanie loves both Allison and Seth and often invited them over for dinner

They all had matching banquet outfits

Jeremy and Jean

Jeremy kisses jeans moles/Beauty marks and Jean kisses Jeremy’s freckles

They sleep facing each-other and so close that they are basically kissing 🙄

Jeremy likes playing with jeans hands when they cuddle and kisses his finger tips

Jeremy screams and runs from bugs while Jean picks them up and puts them outside

Nicky and Eric

At their wedding Nicky was walked down the aisle by Erik’s dad

Their first date was an aquarium date and it was also Nicky’s first time going to an aquarium

They have matching build-a-bears

When Nicky first moved back to take in the twins he and Erik called almost every single night. Nicky was so tired sometimes that he’d fall asleep while Erik was speaking

Nicky only taught the twins basic greetings and manners in German so that when they meet Erik they could at least greet each other but the twins learnt it fluently in their own time without Nicky knowing

Abby and Wymack

They got legally married but instead of a wedding they had a dinner party at their house

They cook together almost every night (Abby is cooking and Wymack is TRYING to cook)

They go on a date every Friday night if they can

They are both very private about their relationship and keep to themselves instead of parading their love around for everyone to see

Abby helps Wymack shave most of the time because he #sucks

They have a daughter together sometime in the future (probably wouldn’t happen but idc😒) and Kevin is her best friend. He buys presents and spoils her whenever he comes to visit

She also absolutely adores Dan and Matt

Katelyn and Aaron and Kevin

Aaron and Katelyn are messy sleepers and move around A LOT so Kevin has woken up from being kicked in the face or something an ridiculous amount of times

Aaron kisses Kevin’s hands and Katelyn’s head/hair a lot, Kevin kisses Aaron’s forehead and katelyns shoulders a lot, then Katelyn kisses Aaron’s cheeks and Kevin’s forehead a lot

Katelyn and Aaron wear eachother and Kevin’s clothes a lot but Kevin barely wears theirs because most of it’s too small for him

Katelyn taught them both how to plait hair and sometimes when they are bored she’ll sit on the floor infront of them while they plait one side each and whoever does the best plait wins

They had a shared playlist but Kevin was banned from adding songs to it because his music taste is bad

Cat and Laila

Bicker like an old married couple

Matching outfits AND hair for banquets but Laila has really long hair and cat has short hair so they are not always FULLY matching hairstyles

Just have a lot of matching things like pajamas and jewellery etc

Sometimes when it’s just them home they play music and slow dance in the kitchen/sitting room quietly

Cat is an ‘organised mess’ kinda person while laila is just a messy person

Friendships/Family:

Katelyn and Neil

Bully Aaron every chance they get bro trust🙏 “look at him” “ikr what a nerd” “I can hear you both😐”

Katelyn is just messing around but Neil is probably actually bullying him LMFAO

Dressed up as each other for Halloween once without telling anybody and gave the twins whip lash

Neil helps her with maths and will help Aaron too if he’s there but Aaron is actually good at maths so he doesn’t need it most of the time

Katelyn was watching when Marissa was asking for Neil’s number because she was the one that told her to ‘go for it!’ And when Marissa got back Katelyn was in tears laughing

They have a secret hand shake that is unnecessarily complicated

Katelyn has bright ginger hair while Neil (cannonicly) had Auburn/dark ginger hair

Aaron and Matt

Aaron was a little awkward about their slowly forming friendship and often tried pushing Matt away but Matt was a little oblivious to it

Randy loved Aaron and always tells Matt to invite him over for the holidays

Whenever Aaron has a nightmare he doesn’t like sleeping by himself and has woken up next to Matt many times because Matt told him he can just sleep in his bed if it makes him feel better

They get really competitive with each other over video games

They play fight/tackle eachother at the most random times and Matt usually wins

Matt had a pair of Spider-Man pajama bottoms and Aaron has a pair of Batman pajama bottoms (Matt bought them)

Matt was the best man at Aaron and Katelyn’s wedding

Matt is Aaron’s first ever best friend

Neil and Matt

Matt gets Neil into playing video games with him sometimes and Neil is wayyyyy better than Matt so he regrets ever letting Neil have a go

There is a photo taped to the photo wall of Neil sitting on matts shoudlers with the biggest smile on his face because he’s laughing and doing this 💪😆💪 LMAO matts doing 💪😁 because he has to hold Neil with his other hand

Matt always holds his hand up high when giving Neil a high five so Neil has to jump to high five him back

Andrew and Neil are the designated babysitters for the team (when they aren’t working obviously) and matt and dans son is constantly copying them and the things they say

Matt insists on them having ‘bro nights’ at least once a week

Matt is Andreils biggest fan

They have a bromance so strong you’d think their actually inlove with each other sometimes, Dan thinks it’s hilarious (Andrew does too but they can’t know that🙄🙄)

Dan, Allison, Renee (+Katelyn!)

Renee, Allison and Dan have girls nights and slumber parties sometimes and after awhile they start inviting Katelyn

When Renee was re-dying her hair once Allison asked her to put pink and black underneath the blonde but she only kept it for a year (Mcbing Allison🫡)

Allison and Katelyn gossip like nobody ever could, they know everything and everyone bro

Dressed up as the powerpuff girls for Halloween once

Aaron, Andrew and Nicky

Nicky was the one that bought Andrew his armbands. Nicky took them shopping for some extra things like clothes and school supplies etc before they went home and Andrew picked them up, Nicky saw him looking at them and told him he can get them if he wants (Nicky never knew why Andrew wanted them until thanksgiving)

Nicky cut the twins hair for them up until the left collage. To begin with it was just Aaron’s hair he did but eventually Andrew trusted him enough for him to cut his too (I don’t think Andrew would like a hairdressers due to a stranger having to touch him and I just think Aaron would hate getting his hair cut)

They had movie nights together before collage every now and again but didn’t have the time for them once they joined the foxes. One night, after the books take place, Nicky asked if the wanted to have one and they ended up meeting in Aaron’s dorm to watch it. Aaron fell asleep against Nicky’s shoulder and while Andrew fell asleep last at the other side of their make shift sofa bed thing

Aaron and Nicky met once or twice when they were little but Aaron doesn’t remember

They have a groupchat and Nicky has the twins contacts saved as ‘thing 1’ and ‘thing 2’

A part of Nicky was upset Andrew never told him he was gay and at some point he asked him if it was because he felt like he couldn’t and Andrew looked him up and down and asked if he was being serious LMAO

Aarons had glasses since he was little but Andrew only got his after moving in with Nicky

Aaron and Andrew eventually just end up sharing most of their clothes either each other after awhile

andrew and aaron both have a very contagious laugh if you’re lucky enough to hear it

Allison, Renee, Neil and Andrew

DOUBLE DATES GUYS TRUST🙏🙏🙏 I think Renee and Allison are more of a dinner date kind of couple while Neil are a staying in or like going on a drive type of couple so they all agree on something that they would all like. a small café or something yk?

Andrew doesn’t gossip but will slide Allison information he’s heard, Renee doesn’t gossip and doesn’t particularly enjoy listening to it, Neil doesn’t gossip but he’ll listen if Allison is, Allison loves gossip and looses her mind when she’s with them

Renee and Andrew have a video of neil and Allison doing karaoke and dancing while drunk in the dorms but nobody else knows about them (not even Neil and Allison)

Allison and Andrew are the best gift givers on the team🫡

Allison put glam makeup on Neil once for fun and the look and Andrews face had them in stitched laughing

I think it would be cute if Allison and Renee adopted a daughter in the future and she would LOVE Andrew and Neil and always want them to ‘come over and play’

^^^Andrew always lets her get away with everything. “Do you want some..?” “My mums said I can’t have sweets before dinner😞” “well they aren’t here right now and I say you can”

Allison and Andrew eventually end up becoming somewhat friends after awhile and she paints his nails for him a lot because she claims he’s ’bad at it’

Neil and Allison

She drags him along for shopping sprees a lot and often ends up buying him clothes even though he has the money for his own

^^^when she and Andrew get closer, there will be a few times she’ll be looking, pick something up and go “you’re buying this for Andrew” and shove it into Neil’s hands

She and Neil have matching skincare headbands/hair-clips

Allison made all Neil’s social media accounts and showed him how to change things like his profile info and how to post. All he’s ever EVER posted is a selfie he has with Allison, a picture of Andrew + the cats and a group photo of the foxes

^^^something similar to this (yes I know that’s the Yellowjackets cats but just imagine it’s the foxes instead LMAO)

She used him as a model when making clothes sometimes (she used Renee as one too🤭🤭)

she made him try do her makeup once and he put the fake eyelashes on her eyebrows

[patheticrafeenjoyer]

ward and rafe both throwing money at barry (or at the ground in front of him) is something very casually sinister imo.

firstly it's important to establish the class disparity between them. we know the camerons are wealthy (big home on obx, another in the bahamas, several cars, dressings of wealth and luxury). conversely, we know barry is not (he lives in a trailer, wears clothes that are worn/older-looking, has money from dealing but obviously owes someone else for the supply). even when we look at the obx map, tannyhill is at the furthest point away from the Cut as possible could be (as deep into Figure 8 as you can get), and barry's trailer is about as far away from Figure 8 as possible (its even right on the furthest border of "livable" land in the Cut before it turns to marshes).

from the literal opposite poles that these two reside on, it draws the implication of it being The Richest Of The Rich (camerons) and The Poorest Of The Poor (barry). i do think there are certainly people poorer than barry, but that's not really the point i'm trying to make here. all i mean is that we are explicitly told/shown the class differences between barry vs. the camerons.

so, to the money throwing. in another post, i talked abt how throwing money the way the camerons do is indicative of the value they have for individual bills being significantly less than the value they have for their whole accumulated wealth. it's less than pennies to them. but before ward and rafe throw money at barry, they both have a moment where they kind of hold the money up and wave it at barry, almost tauntingly, the way you'd tease a dog with a treat.

and then, instead of handing him the money, they toss it onto the ground in front of him. again, this shows how little that money means to them. also, in throwing it on the ground, they just expect barry to bend over backwards to pick it up.

it's incredibly cruel and dehumanizing to taunt someone who can't afford to just literally toss money around with it and then make them get on their hands and knees to pick money up off the ground. there's an obvious hierarchy and power imbalance here.

when ward throws the money at barry, barry gives him shit and says "pick up my money", which ward obviously doesn't. this then creates a moment of tension and chicken between them. who will cow first? who will be the one to get the money?

in the end, it's barry. ward could've thrown that money (and more) on the ground and just walked away, and it wouldn't've made a dent in his bank account. the same cannot be said for barry. so barry gets on his hands and knees and starts picking up the money while ward stands over him, literally looking down at the humiliating scenario he's forced barry into. (and then he kicks the shit out of him but that's another post)

when rafe throws the money at barry, barry's obviously not interested in whatever rafe is trying to rope him into. and then rafe tells him "you know why [you'll do this]? because you'll do anything for money." tossing in barry's face that he will ultimately do what rafe wants so long as he pays because barry needs the money enough that he will subject himself to rafe's whims.

the money ends up in a pile on the ground, which barry once again is forced to get down and pick up. rafe throws it and walks away, like he doesn't need or care about that money (he doesn't), and like he knows that barry is in a position where he does need that money.

and yet again, barry is subjected to this humiliating act of picking up money thrown at him by someone to whom that money means nothing. it's so fucking cruel.

the conversations about class in outer banks are soooo fascinating, and honestly i wish they'd dive into it more, with more nuance. and the potential conversation about race and class would be even more fascinating. alas, these are conversations that have to come from reading between the lines. :/ such is life

[daryldixonfanfiction]

What you fight for pt.5 - chery🍒 (*18+)

masterlist

Summary: Daryl is hurt after ending the clamers. As Julia begins to tend to his wounds he can't stop himself from giving into his deepest desire...

Warnings: *18+, SMUT! los of virginity, unprotected p in v, fingering, touched starved Daryl, age gape, fluff, angst, mentions of blood and death, brief mentions of atemt of SA, protective Daryl,

possesive!Daryl.

Wc: 5k

Their silence spoke volumes of what had happened.

Daryl steered her through the abandoned neighborhood as sundowns' last light glowed against their backs, casting shadows on the asphalt. Julia looked downwards, their hands joined between them. The terrifying nightmare she had been woken to hung around her throat -literally. Everything hurt, her body was still recovering from a sprained ankle, head trauma, the hit she had suffered from the crash and her bruised throat throbbed terebully. 

Her gaze returned to their shadows. 

Julia tried to find it within herself to accept what had happened. Because for Julia -to find acceptance was to find peace. Though it was easier said than done. Reminding herself that other women had endured far worse, but it felt like one of the worst things that had ever happened to her, making it difficult coming to terms with, especially when it happened just moments ago.

The house was left further and further behind, they continued to walk silently until she could feel Daryl letting go of her hand. His loss of touch missed instantly. 

“Stay close.”

Daryl moved in front, leading the way through a white picket fence. It was swinging wide open, welcoming them to white house with a few limp walkers, dead on the overgrown yard. Standing behind him on the porch as he bangs on the front door, alerting anny walkers that could be inside Then they enter and Julia closes the door behind them looking at Daryl, but he wasn't looking at her when he spoke and ordered.

“Stay here.”

Julia did just that, waiting in the hall, patiently for him to sweep the house. The house seemed to be recently lived in and it wasn't in bad shape nor ransacked, if she guessed it looked like a prepper had been living here, probably sins the start, before the turn. There were poles of wax surrounding spent candles on the small table in front of her and if she glanced into the kitchen she could see a dining table, set with a plait of dinner that had been left to root by the resident, indicating the person did not make it. 

Daryl emerged from his sweeping, bow hanging in his left hand which was strange, he always favors his right. Julia moved towards him, and asked,

“Is it safe?”

Julia tried to meet his eyes as Daryl let out a sigh before answering.

"Yeah. It's safe.”

Julia tried to search his face once more, he seemed avoidant as she did so, opting to simply look to the floor. And when he stayed silent in a way that was unlike him, Julia tried and began.“Daryl-  but he cut her off before she could say more.

“The place is nailed up tight. The only way in is through the front door. There's food, running water and electricity. The light should be kept to a minimum though.”

Julia nodes. It made sense when the house looked the way that it did. But she worried greatly about his well-being when he seemed so…not himself, and he hasn't really been himself ever since he had shown up…covered in blood.

The unfavoring of his right hand gave it away. Dried blood stains marks his knuckles, and Julia swore she could see his hand shaking in what looked to be pain, though he seemed to be hiding it well.

Her face changed, and she inhaled - a distraction from her own pain and stated worldly,

"You're hurt.”

Daryl seemed to notice the moment she pointed it out. Perhaps he hadn't felt the pain he was in - she didn't know - all she knew was to care for him, then hurriedly she made him move to the living room, “sit…I’ll get something…”

She gestured for the family sized sofa. For a moment she thought he wouldn't, but then he sat down. With that she began and looked for anything to treat his wound. 

Reentering the living room Julia hurried towards him, placing down a med pack and some rags with water to wet, then turned on the lantern that was placed on the coffee table beside his crossbow and the red machete. Even though it didn't light up the whole rome itself, she pulled the curtains down behind them, just to be safe. Returning to him she grabbed a blanket off the sofa, draping it over his shoulders.

He had sunken down into the sofa, elbows resting on his knees and the way his head hung he looked exhausted -as if the weight of the world had finally caught up to him. Julia stood in front of him. Dropping down to kneel between his knees. Carefully, Julia reached for his wounded hand with both of hers, asking softly,

“Let me see.” Daryl began to pull back, making Julia repeat herself, “Let me see.”

With that Daryl relented and Julia's soft hands remained, her eyes attentively examining the damage. 

“It’s fractured.” Julia frowned in concern.

“Maybe a hairline,” Daryl said, down playing the obvious injury he had suffered, “It'll heal fast.”

Julia didn't believe that for a second when she could clearly feel his hand trembling under her touche. Her hair fell a bit making her pull it behind her ear and Julia felt him watching her hands work as she went on and disinfected the broken skin on the swelling knuckles, before wrapping it up with an elastic compression bandage, much as he had done for her ankle. 

The soft glow of the lantern revealed the lower part of hice face, and she said ever so gently,

“Looks like you’ll live,” she placed the med pack on the tabelle behind her, closing it shut, “I would say it will feel better within 3 or 5 days or so, and it will be held within a month.” Then grabbed the water bottle and the rags she had found, “But only if you let it rest that is...” 

He hummed in agnolishment, and she could feel him looking down, watching her intently where she was and she went on to push herself to a stand with a hand on his thigh for leverage. She felt him tense as she pushed herself up, the rags and bottle of water in the other. His head tilted and he let her seat herself beside him on the sofa. Placing the things in her lap, turning to properly take a look at him, making her frown with worry of his bloody state. Swallowing anxiously she began to soak the rags, asking even though the answer could be something she didn't want to be true.

“All this blood….Is it….?”

As if he knew what she was trying to say, he answered simply, “ 's not mine.”

She sighed in relief. Reaching for his face to clean the dried blood off of him, knowing he would never do it himself. Suddenly Daryl stopped her with his good hand, holding her wrist inches from his face, the blanket fell off his shoulders at the motion and began to say, “I’m fine-”

“No. You're not,” Julia frowned. “Daryl…Let me take care of you.” 

A moment passed between them as he held her there. Then. She could feel him giving in, the hold on her wrist gone and so was the warmth off his skin.

Taking his face with one hand she began and cleaned the blood from his chin with the other down to his neck. She worked scrubbing the crimson from his stubble gently, notesting a deep scratch on his trout. A blooming bruce covered his under eye, on his left eyebrow there was a thin cut already scabbing and then there was the noticeable split lip.  Being this close his eyes were visebulle, though they never met her gaze. 

It was left unsaid, but she knew he had been part of the men he had saved her from. Julia inhaled and asked, breaking their silence. 

“How did you end up with them?”

And maybe for the first time he looked at her, even though it was just for a second she saw regret and the gilt in his eyes. Daryl let out a breath before answering. 

“I was chasing the car, as long as I could. There was now way of telling which way it went. I guess I must have dozed off and that's when they found me. I knew they were bad, but they had a code. It was simple. stupid, but it was something. It was enough.

“And you were alone.” Julia said in understanding, watching how his eyes looked far away as he continued.

“Said they were headed for sum neighborhood, to gather supplies. I was hanging back. I was gonna leave. That's when I saw the car, and I thought…. “

She knew what he was trying to say....Seeing the care, thinking she was dead. And she had thought the same about him, making her squeeze his arm in reassurance. 

A pause…then

“So I stayed,” Daryl confessed.  “Right there when I saw you… like that…” 

He couldn't say more and Julia's heart sank, because she knows why. She kept her eyes closed, squeezing him tighter, shaking her head at the thought of him blaming himself over what had happened. It wasn't his fault, he couldn't have done more than he already had. Julia set the used rags aside, then returned her hand where she had squeezed him and did it once again. 

“Look at me." Her command was soft -yeat grounding.

Slowly he did his eyes sparkling with unshed tears, brows pulled down into an expression of sorrow -sorrow for her it seemed. He had such pure eyes his firm exterior could almost had fold her, but all she saw was a man desperate for something to hold onto. 

Looking into his eyes Julia smiled through the sadness, comforting him with the words she wished she had been given. “Don’t blame yourself over things you can’t control, it will not change the things you blame yourself for,” Then she took his hand to place it over her beating heart, holding it there and he let her, “Instead. Focus on the things that will move you forward.” 

It was the only way she knew how to show him the meaning of what she was telling him. That she wasn't gone and he wasn't alone. Rubbing the back of his hand soothingly with her thumb still pressing him there as her heart thumped beneath she could see him begin to relax and the sadness of his features turned into something -something she found hard to read. His eyes traveled where she pressed him to her chest and he watched how her thumb moves on his skin -how the rise and fall of her breting moves her ribcage. Her soothing motions stills and she questions him, eyebrows coming together, 

“Do you understand?” 

There was no answer. 

His hand began to move upwards, slowly, and he looked to be in a sort of trance watching his own movement from her chest, collarbone, along her throat, stopping at her face. His larger hand holds her there and Julia could only stare in return, confused as just moments ago he had been on the verge of tears. She wondered if what she had told him was the source of such a thing? 

His face was worn by the seasons and by the life he had lived. His under eyes were dark, unrested. But there was also a softness there and she could feel it too. She had seen it in his eyes but now his pupils were blown wide, but if he had just...done what she thought he

had done...he was probably coming down from it. But something told her otherwise. It was famileure, the way he was looking at her and it reminded her of their dinner at the memorial home.

It was that same way he was looking at her, onely more intense as if deep wanting, a need of something. 

Placing her smaller hand on top of his Julia surged his eyes, maybe she thought she would find the answer there? His thumb began to brush the skin on her cheek then it traveled just as slowly like before, bruising over her button lip. Searching his gaze once more just to be chore it's what she thought she noticed how the black has almost swallowed the blue of his irises. It was almost unnoticeable but being this close to one another she saw how he glanced down to her lips then back up again. 

oh…

Julia blinked at him, it surprised her that he wanted to. She had never thought of him in that way before. Not until now and without much thought she spoke to him,

“It’s ok. You can kiss me.”

His adam's apple bobs, his only focus is her lips. His breathing is more laborde and she can feel how his other hand runs through her hair with his fingers until they still - cradling the back of her head. Then tilts her head as he tilts his own and leans in; she closes her eyes, feeling her heart pick up with nerves of anticipation of what is to cume.

And then... 

His lips pressed against hers. They felt rough, not like hers. A stark contrast as stubble rubbed against her face. It was slow and soft at first, him holding her there and she holding on to his jacket. The kisses turned hungrier, slopier and needier. The way he was pressing his lips onto hers, forcing his tongue into her mouth made it seem like he hadn’t felt human contact in years. 

It was…intense…As if deeply needing. Needing something.

When the need for oxygen became too much he broke the kiss to remove his jacket, tossing it aside along with the layer underneath, leaving him in a black t-shirt and jeans. His lips returned to hers and he dipped down, kissing her even needier than before. Without her releasing he unbuttons her cardigan, button after button and when he was done his arms took hold of her to gently being laid against the softness of the sofa, never breaking the kiss. Moving on top of her, settling between her knees she had naturally spread open, welcoming him there with her arms wrapped around his neck to keep him close. She could feel how his hip brushed against her inner thigh before he rested against her completely.  

It was due to his protective nature knowing he could protect her from what’s out there, including those men. It made her feel safe as she laid beneath him, caged between his forearms, elbows on either side of her head, keeping that little space so as not to crush her. She tried to meet his more forceful kisses but she had only made out a couple of times before and therefore followed his lead. Carding her fingers through his hair -It was clear that Daryl was nothing like the boys she had been with, and she liked it.

She continued to run her hand through his hair, smoothing away from his face and then, gripping the nape of his neck as he pulled her tighter to himself, calloused hands slipping under her long skirt  sliding along her bare thighs exposing her underwear beneath, dampened by the arousal. 

He let out a low groan when he pressed into her, he moved his mouth from hers to slide along her jawline. He sounded different than any time she had heard him before. He moved upward again and kissed her and began to rock back and forth against her, and she didn't miss the squeak the sofa made.

She was trembling beneath him. His hands were all over and his touch felt desperate. Almost animalistic in a sense that made her feel vulnerable, but not afraid -she knew he would never hurt her. She had felt nothing like it, being touched and kissed the way he did -not ever. It felt as if her heart was going to explode at every giving moment and her body only wanted more, more and more.

He continued to rock against her -her underwear and his ruff jeans preventing the friction from going any further. It was embarrassing how wet she had gotten at this point -she worried she was leaving the evidence on his pants -and she heard him breath lowly-

“Julia.”

It sounded like a plea, she didn't know. Her mind was all over -spinning…not knowing how it had all come to this. His temple almost met hers and she noticed how he had closed his eyes as if controlling something with himself. Her hands moved soothingly along his face, smoothening hair away to better see the handsome man above her and she answered reassuringly, sensing his search for something.

“I’m here.”

It was all the response he needed, bringing the soaked underwear with his hands -sliding them past her ankles…He was quick to return between her knees, still spread open for him and only him. He kissed her. He seemd to like kissing her and even though he was a bit ruff in his way she still liked it though she tried to slow him down soothing his face once more. She ran her thumb over his cheek to comfort that deep need he seemed to have. 

And then she felt his ruff, broad fingers traveling down and down until finding the ace she had tried to satisfy herself but it never had felt enuff. But as he touched that sensitive place between her legs she could hardly breathe. The anticipation made her mind spin more than it did before. She felt her toes curl, and she reached to embrace him to ground herself to something when she felt so much she almost didn't know what to do with herself. As he continued to move a sound escaped her and she welded herself from allowing more to pass her lips. Heat on her face bloomed of embarrassment; she had never made that noise before as she had always just breathed the noises out soundles into the night when she had dun it to herself. And that habit had become ingrained. 

To her surprise Daryl didn't seem to mind, not at all -prompting him to kiss her temple then after the first finger entered her son another one joined and it was becoming difficult to stay silent, making her hold onto his shirt tightly she worried she was gonna tear it apart. As his fingers moved in and out in a rhythmic motion -the wet sound between her legs was sinful. That also made her embarrassed even though she knew it to be natural. Julia tried to breathe it out but when it didn't work she tried soothing herself planting a kiss on his less stubbled cheek, leaving her lips there feeling how the blooming sounds in her throat had become dangerously close to pass her lips. 

When his fingers removed themselves she missed it instantly, she could never touch herself the way he had touched her…As he shifted -her mind flared with what they had just done, not notesting him positioning himself until he ordered breathlessly…

“Tell me no. Tell me to stop.” 

It caught her off guard -making her wonder if that was truly what he wanted when he was breathing the way he did. She embraced him comfortingly. He was grabbing the edge of the sofa holding himself above her with his forehead against the croak of her neck. Then his mouth pressed to the underside of her exposed jaw, speaking against her skin, "Just say the word and I’ll stop.”

Her Fingers gently prodded the nape of his neck -somewhat confused she hesitated for just a moment before whispering, “But, I want you to do it.” Then tugged the back of his shirt urgingly.

As he had been struck by her words -his inhale was charp. Lips returned to hers, starving and ruff, not gentle like her fingers running through his hair. Then suddenly, he was pressed against her entrance -making her tense in knowing of the pain that followed. The intrusion was slow and it felt larger than his fingers this time. A sound escaped her and it must have startled him, making him pause in his movements. The feeling was overwhelming, not painful, more like a stretch in a way. Breathing heavily against her she could feel how his chest expands and shrinks against her own. He spoke, voice sounding like gravel, “You alright?”

“Yes,” she breathed against his ear.

He pushed further -until he was all the way inside of her. In knowing what was to come Julia wrapped her arms around him, squeezing him closer to herself. He began to rock his hips, moving slowly inside of her. It was overwhelming at first but she could feel herself readjusting to him and the stretch forgotten as she became engulfed by the pleasure bilding inside of herself. She couldn't control the wimpers that escaped her though she tried to keep them to a minimum because of the embarrassment.

All she knew was kissing, the step after was new -making her bury her face in his shoulder, biting back sounds and gasps. Daryl's sounds were low and deep, it was beautiful in a way herring him vulnerable like that. Knowing a man like him would allow himself to be soft as he was with her now. It felt special. It was special. For her it was.

His hands were moving all over her body, it felt as if he was everywhere at once -still needing and needing and she couldn't give any more than she already did. She wrapped her legs around him, sending him deeper inside of her. A small cry escaped her, her head tilting back, and his body followed, pushing her deeper into the sofas bedding.

He then slowed his movements going as deep as he possibly could -as if he was trying to get her to make that sound again. Reaching for his face to slide her fingers over his dashing features. She couldn't help but wonder if he would ever touch her this way again…

Daryl continued his agonizing slow pace - rocking deeply with every stroke. His hand wanted to press into her neck, but he must have noticed the blooming bruises on her throat when he breathed the lowest she had ever heard him do before,

“They will never touch you again,” his thumb on her face pressed to her chin tilting her head towards him, “No one will, because I won't let them.”

“I know. I know” Julia breathed breathlessly.

Staring into his beautiful pools of blue, swallowed by their shared pleasure between them -she could feel his gaze never leaving her face when she closed her eyes, focusing on the feeling of him inside of her. She knew he was watching her reactions intently and she thought about how this was nothing she thought sex would be like -there was no speaking that she thought would leave her dirty afterwards. Instead it was Daryl’s protectiveness and how he touched her so desperately, yet softly with his hands traveling along her skin searching for something within her as their bodies moved in unison and deeper and deeper, until Julia couldn't help the small sounds leaving her lips, one after the other. It was obvious he liked them, each and every single one, because he kept his head close -as if to make sure he didn't miss the whimpers she’d make.

His movements quickend suddenly, making Julia hold on for dear life feeling how she was about to come undone. He grabbed hold of her hip with one hand as he trusted until he stilld completely with a grunt so low she could only describe as animalistic. He fell forward caging her once more with his forearms and hands to either side of her head to keep him from falling on her completely. Sweat was sticking between them where he had bunched up her skirt exposing her to him and she could feel the wetness flowing out of her and the smell of sex in the room.

Their chest heaving, both out of breath from what they had just done. And Julia knew that this was tame compared to what he was capable of. Because, after all, he is a very capable man.

His broad frame loomed over her, and he questioned -breathless, “You alright?”

Julia could onely hum in return as she was still coming down from her high, overwhelmed but in all the good ways possible. She could barely keep her eyes open as she felt him nudge her face with his nose seeking her attention and she gave it to him thru half lidded eyes.

“Hey,” concern was leased in his tone as stroke her cheek with a thumb. “You alright?” 

She swallowed thickly -before nodding, mind still swirling with so many feelings she didn't know where to put them, the pleasure of it all preventing her from thinking straight…

“Yes…Just tired”

He let out a breath of relief. Maybe he was worried he had hurt her somehow? But how could he have done that when he had been so gentle, asking for her to stop him if she didn't want to.

He leaned down -lips pressing to her lips before he moved to lay behind her and pulled the blanket around them she had put on his shoulders. She turned in his hold, snuggling into his warm chest, his arm naturally wrapped around her as his injured arm was draped over her waist.

Julia couldn't help but look in awe upon the man she had just shared the most cherist part of herself, her body. Never before had she felt as safe and close to someone as she did with him and this only made that feeling grow deeper within herself.

Minutes passed with him holding her flush against him and her admiring him beneath his chin, listening to his breathing and feeling the calming pace of his heart against her palm. It almost lulled her into sleep but before she could drift away Daryl confessed,

“I killed them -I killed them all.”

Julia's eyes widened, but she knew, deep down she knew that that was what had happened, the reason he had hidden the bodies, the reason he made her hide, not wanting her to come down. Her gaze left his face where she could see him staring at the selling with a faraway look in his eyes. Julia swallowed before answering,

“I know.” A few moments of silence passed and then, “Every second I was trapped in that car, I was only thinking of you….And when he told me you were–

“He?” Daryl cut her off mid sentence, his hold on her tightening and she could feel his heart racing through his shirt.

“The man who found me,” Julia clarified, “Apparently I was fighting walkers and he saved me. Or that's what he told me.” then clutched his shirt before continuing, “But the more I think about it… It wasn't walkers I was fighting.”

Julia waited for him to say something, anything but he never did so she continued, “You should have seen his eyes. I will never forget that look he had…

He held his breath and he questiond her, “Did he?”

Immediately Julia shook her head against him. The mere thought of it made her sick, “No. I stopped him before he could.”

“Good,” Daryl breathed in return, still looking at the ceiling.

But the growing guilt inside of herself had grown tremendously sinnes it happened, eating at her in every waking moment even haunting her in her sleep. Leaning her cheek against his chest, making her speak against the the fabric there,

“Daryl, I did something terrible.” 

“What you mean?” 

Julia could hear the confusion in his voice but she had to close her eyes as she told him what she did that night, and she told him,

“He got mad when I asked him to turn back, to let me go and he just got so…angry. And then I noticed he had locked me up with one of them handcuffs... So I panicked. I don’t exactly remember how but the car hit something and the next thing I saw was walkers…everywhere.” A shaky breath, then, “He was being eaten alive and the only thing I could think of was saving myself as he screamed for me to help him…But I didn't. I Just left him to die… like that.” Julia completely buried her face into him, softly crying as she held onto his shirt but then she felt his hand stroking the back of her head soothing her to the best of his capabilities. 

When Julia had calmed down a bit Daryl spoke with a voice devoid of emotion, “Some people deserve to die like that.”

“But, that's cruel.” Julia's voice broke, sniffling through the reaments of her tears.

“That’s the truth.”

But It was hard to accept such an ugly reality. At least inside of herself even if she was good at accepting reality, but this time she couldn't. Not yet at least. Drying her tears as she unmoved her face from his chest now dampened by her tears she said,

“I don’t want it to be.”

“I know.” Daryl said softly, continuing to stroke her head.

There were no more words spoken after that, engulfed by what they had said and what they had done, but it wasn't an uncomfortable silence, it was a silence that made one sleepy. Julia very much so. Her eyes continued to get heavier -and Daryl’s body was relaxed against her, welcoming it. Once more she spoke but it was quiet and laced with slip but she said it anyways before she drifted in the solace of sleep in his arms.

“I missed you,” and she fell asleep.

Pulling her closer to himself he left a kiss in her hair and then he whispered,

“I missed you too.” 

masterlist Pt.6

[certifiedlovergirlsstuff]

play with fire

pairing: ethan landry x female!reader

WC: 1.7K

warnings: stabbing, blood mentions. should be it.

summary: intermission to act three

A/N: wrote this in one day so that may explain why it might suck and not make sense at parts. also had this song on repeat as i wrote and was inspire by the ethan edits that used this song. 

@alecmores 💗 (even tho they hate me for this one)

been in the drafts since may 6

masterlist / ethan landry

🎧 play with fire the red means i love you beast

the subway stations of new york were always packed and busy with rushing bodies, but with it being halloween, it was doubled and worse with people wearing costumes. many wearing the ghostface costume, and it felt like they all had eyes watching your little group of friends.

you are stuck near the back with ethan by your side and holding your hand. your group of seven was on the way back to the abandoned theater to lay a trap for ghostface and end this shit before more people die. you just gotta get through the next few stops in a crowded metal tub and hope you aren’t picked off one by one.

you could barely hear anyone over the loud talking and screeching of wheels. the crowds started to get thicker and your hand slowly slipped free from ethan. you stood still as your head swiveled left and right trying to spot his head of curls over the crowd. you pulled your phone from your back pocket and tried calling but you had no signal. with one more look around you finally spotted him with mindy who looked pissed by his mere existence, her guard never dropping around the boy, sticking to the thought of him being a ghostface.

you push past people, saying “excuse me” or “sorry” only a few times before not caring. you saw ethan’s head looking to where you saw mindy stalk towards and then his eyes looked around frantically.

you walked up behind him and grabbed his bicep. he jumped at the touch and turned around, his eyes alert, but melted away once he realized it was just you.

“was wondering where you went.” he pulled you into a hug. an excuse to have you close so as not to be separated again.

“where’s mindy?” ethan jerked his head to the left and you saw mindy who leaned forward and watched the two of you. you waved a hand for her to come back, but she shooed the two of you away. 

“what’s up her ass?” you grumbled. you felt the shake of ethan’s chest from his chuckle and could faintly hear the melody. “still thinks i’m ghostface.” he spoke beside your ear as he rubbed your back.

moving your face away from his chest, you looked up at ethan whose eyes dimmed just a little at the thought of his friend not trusting him. “well i don’t. and mindy is always judging people, it’s the ‘horror expert’ thoughts.” 

ethan flashed a quiet smile, it was there and now it’s gone. you tugged his chin with two fingers before pulling him in for a distracting kiss. as you pulled away you kissed the tip of his nose before turning in his arms, back to his chest. the two of you, plus mindy, just waiting for the next train.

it finally pulled up after a few minutes and you moved with the crowd. mindy continued to stay away from both of you and you narrowed your eyes toward her. “isn’t it best to stick together?” you would have asked her if you could move without someone elbowing your ribs. ethan and you weren’t too far from mindy who leaned against a door as she stared down at her phone. ethan held the metal bar that was attached to the ceiling while you stood in front of his chest with your hand grasping the metal pole beside you.

everyone was swaying with the momentum of the train going and then stopping. some people would get off then more people would crowd the small space. you could barely see mindy at this point and you still had multiple stops to make. you leaned your head on ethan’s chest and focused on his heartbeat, it sped up just a bit and you smiled tenderly.

“i wish you stayed home.” you heard ethan beside your ear. his tone was a bit strained.

with a tilt of your head, you stared into his eyes. his honey-brown, homey eyes. made your insides melt like ice cream on a hot summer day and your legs turn to jelly. “if we stick together, our chances are higher. plus, i can’t leave you. rather get a few cuts and bruises than worry a hole into my floor about your well-being.”

you let your free hand play with ethan’s curls. his eyes closed at the sensation, at your touch. you loved the pull, the power you had over him. the hand moved from his brown tresses and slid to hold his cheek in your palm. pushing up on your tiptoes and dipping your eyes to his lips, ethan closed the distance. he let go of his backpack strap and slipped it around your waist and tugged you in closer.

noses were pressed to cheeks, lips were getting slick with spit and hands were leaving burning touches. you hummed into ethan’s mouth as he got a bit brave and moved his tongue into your mouth. you snaked your arm around his neck and locked him in place, not wanting the moment to end anytime soon.

you saw the flickering of light behind your closed lids and even with your hearing picking bits of ethan’s moans, you could tell no one would hear a thing. releasing the pole, you wrapped your fingers around the sturdy handle and slipped the knife from your pocket slowly. you made sure to keep the weapon concealed as you decided to take a breath.

glistening lips only an inch away, breaths fanning over the skin and smiles beaming, and eyes shining like stars in an open sky. you kept ethan close. “i love you.” you whispered, but knew he heard you.

“i love you too. can’t wait for this to be over.” and ethan moved back in.

you smiled into the kiss as did your boyfriend. it did have to end, but you wish the relationship didn’t. all part of the plan though as you reminded yourself from backing out.

with ethan distracted, you took the plunge and sunk the gleaming knife into his abdomen. you heard his gasp and felt his mouth move. you made sure to keep him enclosed with your arm still tight behind his neck as you swallowed his grunts of pain.

“it’s okay. it’s okay, baby. the worst hasn’t even happened yet. just breathe.” whispered to his ear as you pushed his head onto your shoulder. you felt his arm flex and his hand grabbing the material of your shirt.

“y/n…” your name was a cry from his mouth. the one you kissed just a second ago. you had to shut the sound from your mind. “i wouldn’t scream for help. kinda noisy.” a hard edge to your voice before dropping it and switching back to airy and light.

“you know,” you kept talking to continue the look of a normal couple being sickly in love on the subway, “you were supposed to die in the apartment, but i couldn’t do it. i love you way too much for you to go in a brutal way. plus i wanted to spend our last moments together and in fantasy.” you petted his hair.

you tugged the knife upward, ripping his stomach open. ethan’s groans of pain were muted by the chatter and music playing from a radio. you placed kiss after kiss to his temple. wanting him to know that you cared for him deeply, but the plan always came first.

“i’m sorry, ethan. you weren’t originally part of the plan, but then anika changed her mind. some bullshit about how if her love interest dies, mine should as well.” you rattled away. you made a pass of the car, no one was paying you any mind. not even mindy.

“now,” your voice dropped lower, “you may be wondering, ‘why are y/n and anika ghostface?’ well simply put, boredom… maybe a psychotic.” at the word psychotic, you twisted the knife and you groaned as ethan sank his teeth into your shoulder.

“it’s fine, baby.” nails scraping his scalp, “i know you hate me, i know. and i understand. i would hate me too. i just want you to know,” turning your face closer with your lips brushing the shell of his ear, “our whole relationship… it was one hundred percent real. every kiss, every touch. every word i moaned in bed or shouted when drunk. the whole nine yards.”

your eyes got teary and the people around you got blurry. your heart ached, felt like it was starting to sink to your stomach. while your brain was telling you to man up and finish the job. you slammed your eyes shut and heaved a shaky sigh. you didn’t want the lecture from anika about weakness.

“y/n…” ethan’s breath skated over your neck. you just hummed as you rubbed his shoulder blades. “i’m just… disappointed.” his chest was heaving with each word. “but i still… love you.”

the announcer prepared everyone for the stop. with tears sliding down your cheeks you noticed an empty bench behind the two of you. with ethan leaning on you, you pushed both of your bodies backward until his knees bent and he slumped down. you sat on his lap to cover the knife and blood staining his blue polo.

“i have to meet our friends at the theater. don’t want to be late for the big show.” lips meet his moist forehead. “i have to pull the knife out just before the stop. but if you would just allow me…”

you tilted ethan’s face back to yours. his skin was losing a bit of color and his lips were being stained a light red from the blood pooling in his mouth. “one more kiss?” you dived in before ethan gave a nod or a noise. your smooth lips clashed with his that was beginning to pool with blood. you moaned at the taste and scent. fingers curling tight in his coils.

the loud screeching of wheels was followed by the sway of bodies. and then you heard the swoosh of the doors opening and the thundering of multiple footsteps. you yanked the knife out and pushed off ethan’s lap. joining the swarm of moving bodies and blending into the crowd even though you guessed mindy still wasn’t paying any mind. you couldn’t help the smirk that appeared out of thin air when you thought of the fate she was about to meet at the hands of quinn. you immediately headed out the exit and up the steps.

time for act three.

...

tags: @astrxq

[mermaidgirl30]

Wip Wednesday!

Thank you for the tag @milla-frenchy 🩵 I have been on a little writing break lately, and I’m not sure how long that’ll last. Hopefully in November I can get something out! I haven’t written anything in a couple weeks, but I’ll give a short snippet of the things I was working on before. I also got really inspired playing Silent Hill 2, so I have a one-shot in the works for that.

1. Ch 3 Saving What Was Lost

The front of the truck grows quiet as Joel takes in your answer. His palm rakes against his dark beard slowly, brushing across his mouth like he’s thinking really hard about your answer. And just when you think he’ll drop the conversation, he says something that leaves you speechless.

“I’ll take you back.”

Your eyes blow wide as you repeat the sentence in your head. I’ll take you back. Why would he do that…

“What?” you ask, jaw dropped like you just got slapped in the face.

He gives you a small smile and looks over at you with the softest brown eyes you’ve ever seen. “When you’re ready, that is. And only if you want to go back. I could help you get your feet back on the ground, find you a nice place where you’ll be comfortable. If that’s what you want.”

You stare at him dumbstruck, your words lodged deep in your throat with every second that ticks by. He’ll take you back. But why would he do that for you? Why would he do what no one else would? Why does he care what happens to you…

2. Heaven’s Night (James x Maria Silent Hill 2 One-Shot)

Heaven’s Night. A lit-up little strip club in the middle of an old, abandoned, haunted place. Silent Hill led him here. It led him into the arms of a stranger. A stranger that seems so familiar, yet so new.

Maria. The woman who’s standing right in front of him, hovering, teasing him as she slowly spins on the pole with a huge smirk on those dark crimson lips that entice him more than he’d like to admit.

“Come on, James. I was only just teasing,” Maria giggles as she twirls once more and struts over to the end of the reflective stage.

“Didn’t seem like it,” he mutters, trying to keep his eyes level to the ground, but his gaze keeps wandering to those fucking long legs and that short black leather skirt. If he was a good man, he’d walk away, but he has a hard time with keeping his mind elsewhere when he’s stuck gawking over this gorgeous woman. A woman that’s not Mary…

“Lighten up. Don’t you wanna have a little fun?” she questions with a quirked up brow. He watches the way her fingers curl a strand of blonde and tinted purple piece of hair behind her ear, watches the way her neck elongates when she swallows, watches the way her crystal blue eyes don't leave him for even a second.

“A little fun?” he asks, swallowing a deep gulp as he takes a step back, out of reach of the enchantress that’s trying to take him under.

She slides down and sits on the edge, widening her legs just enough for him to peek what’s underneath. He chokes when he sees the black lacy thong, nearly collapses when he sees how sopping wet she is.

Goddamn it. He feels the blood pumping through his veins like wildfire, feels how hard he’s getting beneath his jeans.

No pressure tags 🩵 @mountainsandmayhem @604to647 @almostfoxglove @almostempty @sawymredfox

@aurorawritestoescape @burntheedges @evolnoomym @beardedjoel @pedrospatch

@lotusbxtch @alltheirdamn @whxtedreams @for-a-longlongtime @mrsmando @bluestar22x

[fairyhaos]

seventeen and tripping over

how seventeen trip over the uneven sidewalk, basically

notes: inspired by me. who tripped over the sidewalk today. twice.

masterlist

seungcheol:

lets out a loud yelp the second his foot catches against the uneven slab of pavement they're walking on. grabs onto mingyu in front of him with so much force that the guy almost faceplants onto the floor. warns everyone behind him that the pavement is uneven, cries out like a human siren whenever someone looks like they're going to make the mistake he did and catch their foot against the concrete

jeonghan:

makes that cute "ah!" sound and stumbles over, but doesn't actually fall. the type to backtrack to the part of the floor that made him trip, wagging a finger and frowning as he scolds it. is all "hey, why did you make me trip over! why are you uneven!". tsks n shakes his head like he's disappointed in the pavement. tells the members the pavement is a little wonky, stands back and just watches as at least three of them still trip over it like he did

joshua:

in the most elegant way possible, he's basically like a baby deer. arms waving in the air and feet kicking upwards as he does a little hop and skip when his foot comes into contact with the uneven part to try and regain his balance. has fallen over onto his hands and knees 40% of the time. jeonghan laughs at him 100% of the time. makes that embarrassed face with his nose all scrunched as he smiles sweetly and tells jeonghan to kindly shut up

junhui:

doesn't trip over the pavement as much as he walks into things. once walked into all five street lamps they passed on the road bc he was too busy looking at his phone. made a surprised "oh" sound each time, before looking down at his phone and walking into a pole again. woozi dragged him from the edge of the pavement so that he was walking on the inside to prevent further incident. he ended up walking into a tree instead. 

hoshi:

saw the uneven paving stone as he was walking up to it, called out to the members to warn them of it, ended up tripping over it himself. had time to cry out, "hey guys, i'm falling over!" as his foot caught against it, but apparently didn't have time to hold out his arms to balance himself. thankfully he didn't fall flat on his face tho, bc dokyeom was in front of him and he fell onto him instead

wonwoo:

rarely trips over uneven stones, and trips over the step at the entrance of someone's house more often. has had to grab onto the front door frame countless times as he enters the dorm bc his feet seem to keep forgetting that they have to step over the slightly raised panel at the bottom of the floor. despite the countless times he's done it, however, he still laughs at mingyu when the guy trips over the front door too

woozi:

somehow always trips over the pavement when it's uneven? especially if it's already been pointed out. jeonghan will tell them that they have to be careful bc there's a paving slab that's wonky, ends up catching his foot against it not even five seconds later. never falls over, though. laughed at soonyoung when the guy tripped and made dokyeom fall over too

minghao:

gives a little yelp but manages to catch himself quickly. lets out those cute embarrassed giggles if anyone turns back to look at him, pats himself down as casually as possible and carries on walking like nothing happened at all

mingyu:

has definitely tripped on a fold in the rug before and fallen flat on his face. had a slight carpet burn on his left cheekbone for three weeks, complained every time he washed his face n said that it hurt so badly. grins guiltily (like it's his fault??) when someone looks back to see what happened whenever he almost trips then manages to catch himself. another person to pretend he didn't trip when he, in fact, did

dokyeom:

is all long, flailing limbs when he trips over, making windmill movements with his arms to stop himself from falling. succeeds in keeping his balance most of the time. screeches like it's the end of the world every single time. afterwards he tells everyone multiple times that the pavement is wonky, then rushes forward to try and catch woozi (and sometimes hoshi) when he ends up still tripping over it

seungkwan:

the clingiest. his hands are grasping at anything within his reach as he trips over, once grabbed onto the zip of vernon's backpack and emptied its contents right there in the middle of the street. releases his hold on whatever he grasped onto then lifts them up in apology once he's regained his balance. makes small surprised noises when he feels himself keel over, but he's defining nowhere near dokyeom-loud

vernon:

doesn't… seem to… trip? like ever? he looks like some sort of game character tbh, n his feet are very firmly placed on the ground. has tripped over his own feet before tho, and did a few stumbly steps and made an "whoops" sound before carrying on with his trip to the kitchen

chan:

doesn't trip over the pavement, does trip over his own feet. seems to trip over his feet every single week. has done it while walking into the practice room, walking to the bathroom, walking into stage, everywhere. the members are used to hearing his panicked noises as he catches his foot against his other foot yet again

currently taking requests

[educationalporpoises]

Before the Fall of Rome

Merry Christmas @blood-mocha-latte from your Secret Santa! (me) Hope you enjoy this fic, and your moodboards totally gave me the bug so I made one to go with this fic too :)) Rie, I had a blast writing this fic for you <33 Also here on AO3 Before the Fall of Rome, Luztoye, 2.2k, M June, 1949. There's a reunion on the fifth anniversary of D-Day. George and Joe meet again for the first time since Bastogne.

June, 1949

George was outside smoking, leaning up against a plaster column in the shade. He was on his second cigarette when a busted cream-colored Willys pulled up in front of the hotel and Babe Heffron got out of the front seat, opening the door for a lady in the passenger seat. The lady in turn pulled open the back door and held out an inconspicuous arm for Bill Guarnere to pull himself up to standing. On the other side, Babe did the same with Joe Toye. George recognized him, but the set of his shoulders, the way he carried himself, had changed from the man George had jumped with. 

Joe had a suitcase in one hand, a cane in the other, and walked purposefully towards the entrance to the hotel. George flicked the butt of his cigarette into the gravel drive and stepped into line with him, passing by the doorman holding the big door to the hotel.

“Hey Joe.” 

Joe grunted.

“Ballroom’s down to the right. We’re all staying on the second floor mostly, and there’s an elevator back here,” George said, trotting alongside Joe. At the elevator Joe set down his suitcase and waited for Babe and the Guarneres to catch up after checking into the hotel, shifting his weight to one side and smoothing out a crease in his pant leg where it caught above the knee. 

George remembered suddenly that this was the first time he’d seen Joe since Belgium, since the snow and the blood and as his throat tightened he smiled, wide, and said “I’d probably get you lost trying to find the room.” 

He left Joe standing in the hallway with his shoulders slumped and his mouth a thin line and went to help set up the ballroom. It was still mostly empty, only the guys that organized the reunion had arrived. George was only there because he’d caught a ride with Winters, who was chronically early and terminally helpful.

Winters was different in civilian clothing, his hair just beyond regulation length, his shoulders and his smile looser. George had stopped by his house in Nixon, New Jersey, a hulking, empty brownstone with a shiny Cadillac parked in the garage. Nixon (the man) had driven in from the city and cooked them dinner both nights, pouring George and himself liberal glasses of vintage wines and retelling the same stories of his childhood they’d all heard through Toccoa and the war. He’d fallen asleep in the back of the Cadillac as Winters drove them to Pennsylvania and told George about the different farms they passed by. 

“We’ve heard enough about cows, Dick,” Nix said blearily from the backseat, “Luz, what are you doing next?” 

“I liked hearing about the cows, sir,” George deflected. He’d told them about the last four years, taking care of his little siblings and the seasonal jobs around town he’d been picking up. But Nix had his number and knew George had no idea for his future. “I was thinking once Molly is in school I’d look into one of those job programs they have for soldiers. Learn a trade.” 

“Trade work is good, Luz. You know, I put myself through college wiring telephone poles. I must have wired half of Lancaster County by the end of it,” Winters said. He glanced in the rearview mirror at Nixon, and George watched his face twist briefly before he looked back at the road. 

In the ballroom Winters was directing Popeye and Tab in putting up a banner that read “506th PIR E Company” in a big red script, with “Currahee” underneath. Nixon was standing by a big table of food, some of it catered by the hotel, some of it brought by the wives and fiances of the men that had arrived. Nixon had made lemon icebox cookies the day before they left. 

“Luz!” Someone behind him called out as George tried to filch a cookie from under Nixon’s nose. He turned around, wiping powdered sugar on his pants, and saw Lipton, smiling around his scar.

“And, well, we’re not telling people yet but Angie is expecting,” Lip said in an undertone, after he’d filled George in on the weeks since their last letter. 

“Well tell her Uncle George is always available for babysitting. Lord knows your rugrats will be easier than the little Luzes.” 

“Everyone’s easier to manage than Luz kids. That’s why they keep you around at home,” Lip joked, “You keep them out of trouble and they keep you busy enough you can’t get into trouble either.” 

Lip made him promise to visit the boarding house before Angie gave birth, “Or we won’t have time to see you until the baby is in school,” and they made tenuous plans for the fall, before Lip went to talk to the other officers. 

George chatted with Popeye and Moore when he arrived, and pulled Johnny Martin into a hug when he arrived. The light grew into sunset, and eventually Nixon officially opened the bar, everyone yelling over each other which drinks they wanted. 

George had an Old Fashioned, in honor of the man himself, and another for confidence. By the time he was teetering between tipsy and drunk the sun had turned mellow and the room was hazy and dim. Men were dancing with their wives while others sat around talking. Winters made a brief statement standing on a chair, a glass of punch (miraculously no one spiked it) in his hand. 

“I was proud to lead you into battle five years ago and I am proud of all that you have accomplished in civilian life, and the futures you have earned. Currahee!” he said, and they all cheered, and afterwards all the men had toasted each other until George was pushed up on the chair and wished them all luck in their lives after the war in Sobel’s marching cadence bellow. He’d done Sink and Dike and a big German caricature, and then mimicked a couple of movie stars, yelling orders or repeating old jokes from the war, before he was let down from the chair and handed another drink. 

He watched Babe Heffron talking to Martin and his wife, a shadow hulking behind him. George went up to the shadow and tapped him on the shoulder. 

“Luz, can’t you see I’m in the middle of a conversation,” Joe grumbled, following George to an empty table.

“You hadn’t said anything in five minutes.” “You were paying attention?” Joe asked, his eyebrow quirked. 

“I just couldn’t see Martin with you in the way, wanted to get another look at his behind,” he said, and Joe smiled, a little. He tilted his head down when he did, as though it was a secret. 

He wasn’t sure how to approach the years of silence between them, but Joe cut through the awkwardness and asked, “So how many little siblings did you come home to?” and George got to tell him about Molly, who was three now, and his nieces and nephew, and being there to see baby Robbie walk for the first time. 

“You could’ve seen me walk for the first time too,” Joe said, the first time either of them made reference to the war, “Babe was there. He was trying not to laugh the whole time. Don’t know how he and Bill are friends, they never stop fighting.” 

“Philly’s still the same, then?” 

“Guess so. When I left the hospital I tried to go back to the mines, but I couldn’t stand long enough. They tried to give me a paperwork job but I don’t have a head for numbers,” Joe said, his shoulders up by his ears again. It was unspoken in the company that not all the boys could read as well as each other– Bull Randleman was the smartest man in the company, but he would dictate letters home to Martin. Joe had left school at twelve. George’s ma had made all of them finish high school, and he was glad for that now. 

“I’m um, I’m back in the city now. Taking some classes at the college. Bill’s wife helped me set it up, it’s free for GIs.” 

“That’s good, Joe, real good,” George tried to hide his surprise, “What are you learning about?” 

Joe spoke further into his beer, “History. When I got back I realized… We were part of something big. They’ll teach about us in school one day. I want it to be right.” 

George imagined Joe sitting in a lecture hall, arguing with the professor. 

“History is long. What’s the best part of it so far?” 

“We read a book about Roman generals. They led these campaigns across the continent– they wouldn’t’ve needed paratroopers. The soldiers just marched,” Joe looked up, “This one fella, well, I guess he was an opposing general, he marched his elephants over the Alps.” 

Joe’s laughter was low but bright, and George indulged another sip of his Old Fashioned, lest he think something untoward about his old friend. 

“Sergeant Toye, you will brush that elephant until he shines. Do you expect to go to war with dusty tusks?” George affected in Sobel’s voice, attracting the other men towards their table. 

Before Bill Guarnere and his wife (Frances, George reminded himself) went to bed he came over to shake hands with Joe and say goodnight. Joe took a minute for quiet words between them, while Frances politely invited George to visit them in Philly next time he was in the area. He got a sense that if she learned he’d been in Pennsylvania without gracing the Guarnere household he’d have a riot on his hands, and promised to call on them when he could. 

“G’night Toye, Luz,” Bill said, and took his wife’s arm as they went back towards the rooms. George looked away, and caught Nixon and Winters in the corner of his eye, standing close together. Nixon had his arm wrapped around Winters’ shoulders, and for a moment his hand cupped the back of his neck, thumb brushing the divot between his skull and spine. So it was like that, George thought, and wondered why an invite into their house had been so readily given. Nixon was not a cautious man, but he guarded the things he regarded as his– dogs, peaches, wine cellars. 

Joe caught him watching the officers, and he turned back to their conversation. 

“I hadn’t planned to come,” Joe said, “I haven’t talked to any of them since Bill and I were in the hospital together. But Babe showed up with Bill and Fran and they would’ve left me alone, but… My brothers weren’t in the war.” George nodded, Joe had told them about the various illness or necessary labor jobs that had protected the other Toyes. 

“I was lonely, I think. So when Babe showed up I went with him,” He said, and sat back, done with his piece. 

George said, before his brain could catch up with him, “Would you come with me now, if I asked?” 

Joe nodded, and pushed himself up from the chair. 

The prosthetic was easier to get off than he expected. Two buckles across his thigh, a snap connecting the harness to the wood, and Joe Toye was naked as the day he was born spread out across the floral pattern of George’s hotel bed. 

George liked to tease, liked to talk and bite and argue, and he hoped they would have time for that, in the bright, impenetrable future they now had, in this time after the war. But Joe was a simple man to please, and the noises he made when George put his mouth on his cock were almost as good as his growl when George teased him to a point of rage. And George liked it pretty fucking well when he let himself draw the blowjob out a little long, until Joe pushed down on the back of his head and said, “Suck.” 

Without speaking Joe curled himself behind George to sleep, his arm resting across George’s stomach. 

“Goodnight, Joe,” George said. Joe grunted. 

The next morning, after breakfast, George got back in Winter’s Cadillac, and went back East for the summer, waiting until Molly went to school and cleaning fish guts off his denim coveralls. He would receive letters in Joe’s stout, blocky handwriting, words scribbled out until everything was spelled correctly. In the fall he left again, and Joe Toye would pick him up at the train station. He would apologize for not having a car, and with his balance on the prosthetic he couldn’t take a bag from George either, but they walked together to the narrow apartment they would share until Joe got his teacher’s license. 

George would work for one of Joe’s cousins (he would come to learn there were always more cousins) in the back of an autobody shop, mopping floors and sweeping up the screws and bolts scattered around. Joe taught history, and at night he would read to George from the books he consumed rapidly, and George would tell him they were Achilles and Patroclus, even with Joe’s Achilles Heel and all. 

After the war, they continued.

[jokingmisfit]

'First' Sights Part 2

Eobard Thawne x Reader

This a part 2 read part 1 first

Warnings- Main character deaths, fear, little description of gore

It was another twenty minutes when I got a message back saying they were sending him back now. With dread in my stomach I made my way back down to help ensure everything went according to plan.

Making my way down the corridor, I find it odd how quiet it is. Looking into the cortex I find a horrific scene. I find it hard to keep everything in my stomach as I stand in fear.

Blood splattered and slightly dried on the main desk. Screens are pulled up to the pipeline cell, which is empty. None of this was as horrific as Joe who laid on the floor leaned against the chair with his heart ripped out of his chest and a look of terror on his face.

Shakily I moved through the front of the cortex. An empty table sat holding a slouched Catlin. Her head rested against the table and her hand held tightly the pole next to her. Walking a bit closer I see the hole in her back… And her heart on the floor.

Where the hell is Cisco?

What the hell happened?

I ran down to the pipeline.

“Harry!” I scream out. “Barry!” I scream louder.

I finally find Harry laying against the wall. His hair is matted and there are dry tears on his face. There’s no holes in his clothes or skin, but there’s also no heartbeat or breath in his lungs. 

My breathing is ragged as I continue down the hall. I haven’t felt so tense, so emotional in a long time. A part of me feels like this isn’t real. A part of me doesn't believe they’re actually dead.

I make my way to the closing, but still there’s no evidence other than their bodies.

“Barry!” I scream out.

I could hear the echo before the wind hit me.

Red. The lightning was red.

I should’ve known Eobard did this…

I turn to face the man in yellow clad and watch him take off his cowl. His eyes glow with pride. His lips turn up in a snarky smile.

“There you are.” He says smiling. “Did you see your little gifts?”

“Where’s Barry?” I whisper.

“Don’t know, don’t care. He’s not important right now.” He says while slowly stepping towards me.

I shake my head in confusion. “You’re obsessed with him; what do you mean he doesn’t matter? I don’t get it… you. He, Barry, wouldn't have let you kill them.”

“Well Flash wasn’t quite fast enough.” Eobard softly grabs my arms. He tilts his head while looking at me.

“Why are you here, what could you have possibly gained from any of this?” My voice breaks at the end of my sentence.

I’ve never felt so helpless, so defeated, confused, and… hurt. I just don’t understand.

He shakes his head with a breathless laugh. “I had to come back to get you, silly girl. I couldn’t just leave you here alone could I?”

I rip my arms away from him. I raise my voice, “You said you didn’t love me! You told me you were faking, using me! You left!” I pause. “How do you even remember me? You, you aren’t the same Eobard I know. You’re not, you're not supposed to know me, so how d-”

“Of course I had to pretend you weren’t important. I needed things to go according to my plans… Then foolish Eddie thought he could be a hero. I had back ups however. I made one little contingency plan just for you.” He steps forward and grips my hands as he speaks. “I used the negative speed force to propel my memories of you and my plans to another version of myself. And once I received those memories I knew I needed to get my princess back.”

I couldn’t gather the words or thoughts. Eobard came back for me. Eobard loves me. Eobard killed all of my friends, but I didn’t actually like them. I didn’t care. It’s like a train. All of the emotions I’ve shut out, coming back.

Tears gathered in my eyes. My voice was broken and quiet, but I need to know. “You love me?”

The smile he gave could light the sky. “I love you.”

A deep breath and a look around. I smile.

“Then take me home, Eobard.”

[blackbat05]

Gravitating

Frank Castle x Reader

Plot: The newest member of the team, you’re determined to prove yourself. Especially to the big bad Punisher. But an unexpected turn of events makes you and him see things in a different light.

Genre: PG-13, Mentions of blood and injuries

A/N: I'm very into enemies to lovers these days. I need to chill tf out. Reblogs appreciated!

“That stupid, big jerk.” You muttered while staring through the binoculars. “How dare he tell me that I’m not capable. I’m perfectly capable! Who found their hideout first? Me!”

You had been tracking down one of Kingpin’s many hideouts along with Red and his team for months. With persistence and a trusted intel, you managed to find a safe house rumored to be in the drug business.

Being the newest member of the team, you eagerly bought the information to Murdock & Nelson, only to be shot down by the Punisher himself.

You shake the memory out of your head but a few words left lingering in your mind - coincidence or not, those words hurt the most.

“Why are you trying so hard to prove yourself?”

What you were trying to block out from your youth, had pierced your heart terribly. You refused to show your tears in front of the vigilante who had an unreadable expression on his face. Instead, you opted leaving the room quickly with Karen chasing after you.

“He didn’t mean that. We just need to check it out first to know what we’re walking into.”

You forced a smile, trying not to break down. “I know Karen. I just need to get out of there before I rip him into two pieces.”

She gives you a significant stare. “I’m fine, pinky promise.” You took her hand, giving it a slight squeeze. “I’m going back to take a rest. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Go straight home.”

Once you made sure Karen disappeared back into the building, you turned the opposite direction of your usual route.

You take a couple of photos of the van moving in unidentifiable boxes, imagining Frank’s reaction at the photos you would slam on the table the next morning at the law firm.

Then, you see it. A young woman is being forcefully dragged in by a burly man who has his hand clamped over her mouth.

Honestly, you were the kind of teammate to be behind the scenes. Especially when you had Matt and Frank - as much as you hate to admit for the latter. But you just couldn’t turn a blind eye to this. You raced down the stairs and ran to the opposite building you were surveilling, ready to attack to attack the assailant.

Sure, you had basic lessons in self-defense. However, as the adrenaline died down, you realized that your opponent was not any ordinary thug. He sees you and gives a sinister smile.

Oh no, he did not just underestimate you. Through sheer luck, you spot a metal pole discarded beside the van for you to wield. You don’t hesitate to make the first move, going in with the intention to hurt.

He howls in pain, clutching the back of his head. The woman is released and she’s momentarily stunned. “Go!” You yelled, snapping her out of her fright. “Don’t turn back!”

Perhaps Frank was right. As the rookie of the team, maybe you were trying to prove something. You were trying so hard that you forgot the most basic thing - to never turn your back against the enemy.

You feel a sharp stab at your side. Clumsily taking another swing of the pole, you don’t hear where it lands, neither do you care to see how he ended up. All you knew was that you had to get out of here immediately too. Clutching your side, you take off into a run.

With each step, your breathing gets more labored and your sweating buckets by now. You don’t know how far you’ve run and your vision is slowly getting disoriented. It’s late at night and the streets are close to empty. You panic at the possibility of you bleeding out on the streets.

An idea pops into your head. It’s the last thing that you would do but desperate times called for desperate measures.

***

Frank drives along the streets, letting the static consume his thoughts. He thinks about the conversation he had with you earlier and tries to shake it out of his head.

He saw the hurt that flashed through your eyes, going away as quickly as it came. Before he could even say anything, you stormed out of the building. Minutes later, Karen comes back alone and she marches over to Frank. She thinks that unlike what you promised, you were too stubborn for your own good.

“You better make sure she’s alright Frank. That was low.”

And so he’s here, trying to find your usual surveillance spot without much success. The phone rings and he picks up, putting it on speaker. He hears heavy and labored breathing and for a moment he thinks it’s one of those blasted prank calls.

“Frank…”

Surprised, he pulls over his car to the side. “Where are you?” He doesn’t know why, but something has gone wrong.

“I’m sorry, I should have listened.” You rambled out your apologies, no longer caring about pride. “I found them… one of them stabbed me.”

He grips the steering wheel hard at your words, heart hammering against his chest. “Where are you? God damn it, where are you!”

“Please, don’t scream at me.” You whimpered, leaning against the wall. “I don’t know Frank. I don’t know.”

And the phone disconnects. Frank tosses his phone aside, starting the engine once more. He needs to find you quickly.

He has to.

***

He can’t find you. It’s the fifth alley and Frank is close to causing a car accident. He couldn’t think of the what ifs. You had to be safe.

As he make a turn for the umpteenth time, the lights from his car shines on the wall with a bloody handprint on it. Frank forces himself to slow down, hopeful for a trail that would lead to you.

He sees that the print starts to get fainter and decides to go on foot. Frank sees a foot sticking out beside the trash can and automatically makes a beeline towards your broken form.

“Hey, hey!” Frank crouches down, checking your condition. You were drifting in and out of consciousness, hand no longer having the strength to put pressure on your wound. He notices that you’re starting to shiver and his brain kicks into overdrive.

Throwing his jacket around you, he carefully lifts you up, taking you to the car. Pressing speed dial, he prepares to call Claire Temple. He can’t take you to a normal hospital. Too many questions, too much risk.

Stepping on the gas, he tells Claire his ETA and the extent of your injuries before checking on your slumped figure at the passenger seat.

“Hey, don’t you sleep!”

And so you try to fight the fatigue. The only way to keep your eyes open was to talk.

“You were right. I overestimated myself. I shouldn’t have let my pride win… but maybe that’s good for you. Today showed that you were right…”

Frank’s knuckles turn white from the tight grip. Why did he have the tendency to let things get so bad?

"If getting things right means that something bad happens to you, I rather be wrong all the time."

You gave a lazy smile. "Don't be such a sap, that's not like you." You wince, clutching your side.

Frank sees a figure waiting on the sidewalk. "Hold on, we're almost there!"

As he screeches to a halt, the last thing you remember is seeing the fur of Frank's coat.

***

You blink the crust from your eyes, a groan escaping your mouth as you try to move.

As the sleep went away, you realize that you weren't in your house. The furniture around you was simple at its best. There were minimal personal belongings and no indication of whose house it belonged to.

Slowly, you attempt to prop yourself up on your good arm, only to hiss in pain.

"Careful, or Claire and Karen might just kill me for letting you open your stitches again." Frank comes into vision, sipping a cup of coffee. He hands you one, and you mumble a small thanks.

Frank drags a chair, sitting across from you. Suddenly, the coffee became very interesting.

You were the first to break the silence, as you remember bits and pieces from yesterday. "Um... thank you... for coming to save me."

Frank doesn't say anything and puts his cup down. The loud clank on the coffee table makes you flinch and you speak up. "I must be overstaying. I'll grab my stuff and go. Thanks for the coffee and I'll- uh... see you at Matt's."

The sudden movement throws you off balance but you fought to steady yourself. Grabbing the things that were left at the table, you sling it on your shoulder, ready to bolt. Frank holds you by the wrist, breath hitched at the edge of his throat.

"Stay. Your wound's still healing. You'll need someone to look after it."

"Don't worry, I can get Karen to help me." You try to pry yourself away from his grip, already feeling out of sorts that you had to seek help from him out of all people. "Please let go, your hurting me."

He jerks his hand back as if he touched hot metal. "Sorry..." Frank was reminiscent of a kicked husky as he tries to find his words. "I just... I shouldn't have said all those things."

You step away from the door and back into his living room. He takes this chance to continue.

"I can't imagine if I didn't find you." He doesn't look at you. Frank's fighting to keep a horrible memory away. "I don't know what I would do if you didn't make it..."

"All those things I said. I knew you were right. You were capable of finding that intel but I didn't want you chasing them on your own because you were too damn stubborn. You were too damn stubborn and you always looked out for others before yourself. I didn't know it would have turned out this way. I get that you hate me but I have to say it. I'm sorry."

Frank sinks down onto the sofa, face in his hands. You drop your bag, sitting beside him. You take a hand away from him, gently turning Frank to face you.

"I don't know if I can accept your apology just yet but I appreciate you always looking out for me Frank." You kiss him on the cheek as a token of appreciation.

There were many unsaid words, and hidden feelings between the two of you. You could never understand the big bad Punisher and he could not wrap his mind around the hot-headedness of the new rookie of the team. Yet here both of you are.

Bringing your bag closer, you unzipped the bag, taking out the stuff that you have. Frank sees you do a once over at the things that you have laid out, a small smile dancing on your face.

“So, I believe I’ll be staying a while more. Just to make sure I don’t bleed out. Do you think you could spare me a set of clothes?”

Frank grins. Tension flowing out of his body. Maybe… just maybe… with time, the unsaid words will be said. And the hidden feelings will be expressed. But for now, the two of you will enjoy this new found moment of what it seems to be shared understanding and deep respect for each other.

“Yeah, I do. In fact, I could spare you a couple.”

[yes-i-am-a-tree]

"I thought I was gonna die. " (Platonic!Kenny Ackerman x reader)

Summary: You were to play a part in a plan Kenny and Levi created to break you out of captivity and get away safely. The ironic thing is, you had no idea such a plan existed, so you take your own route, throwing both Kenny and Levi for a loop. Regardless, you prove to them that you can fend for yourself. You also prove that you're a terrible horse rider.

Genre: Angst but gets wholesome at the end. Happy ending.

Also, Platonic Levi x reader but to a minimal amount.

Warnings: bodily injuries, mentions of execution and murder, Kenny being a disappointed father :')

Somewhat proofread 😅 more notes at the bottom 👍

Set in a Western AU!

High noon. Exactly 12 clock was the time your execution was scheduled.

You were framed. Though they had only gotten one thing right out of their accusations against you.

You were Kenny's apprentice. You were 100% along with him every step of the way. Listening to his every order, and obeying his every command. You owed it to him. You can't even count on both hands how many times he's saved your life.

But they were wrong with everything else. The MP claimed you tried to assassinate the king. The Lord of all three walls. It's a wonder everyone believed them because you weren't big or powerful like Levi or Kenny. But they accused you anyway because they knew you were directly associated with Kenny the Ripper.

But apparently, that was in the past because they welcomed him with open arms and left you in the dust.

So you sat and waited. You tried desperately not to think about your doom but it was always on your mind. It ate away at you during the night and it loomed over during the day.

And soon. It was the morning of the last day you'll ever see the sun again. The last day you'll enjoy (not that there was much too in this cramped musty cell)

You tried to savor your last hour before one of the palace guards knocked on the heavy metal bars of your enclosure. It was time to go.

Once you were forced into the palace square it was almost like an open cathedral.

There were crowds among crowds of people. All watching with their beady greedy eyes.

Surprisingly to you though, and you were handcuffed to a pole, no executioner stood nearby. In fact, you found it weird you were chained to a pole in the first place.

You sat in the brutal sun before the crowd grew silent. The king had arrived to watch.

You looked up at him and scowled. He of all people shod know you were not guilty. It was those fucking snobbish Military Police.

Then, a familiar clop of footsteps sounded behind you. 'Of course, he's here, he's basically the head of the MPs at this point.

He then walked his brown leather boots directly in front of your line of sight. You frowned. 2 weeks ago, you would've been overjoyed to see those boots. But now, you just felt betrayed.

On multiple occasions, you hoped and even prayed that he would come and save you. I mean, hell, you had been with him for over a year, did he not care? You gave up that hope a long time ago when you were being transported to the castle prison and you saw his face in the mass of people. You saw him look away. You saw him turn his back on you.

And now he was here to mock you.

Suddenly he squatted and grabbed your face, forcing you to look up at him. Kenny's signature smirk was condescending.

"Don't you know how to show your owner some respect?"

You could hear a couple of guards snicker. You grimaced.

He seemed to grin wider at your reaction.

"What, you don't wanna talk to me? " Kenny asked teasingly.

You just glared. You regretted the last year of your life. Everything just went wrong from there. And now, you were about to die. Alone. Disrespected. And innocent.

Then, He slapped you across the face. Albeit, it was softer than any of the beats he had given you before, nonetheless, it still hurt like hell. You bit back a couple of cuss words.

You truly hated him.

"Sorry sweetheart, I have to teach you a lesson for trying to touch the King"

As he said this he stroked your face where he slapped you like he was trying to soothe you. That just added fuel to the growing fire of hatred inside. You closed your eyes to conceal your tears. He was the last person you wanted to cry in front of.

If only you had kept them open because it was obvious, while you were up that close, that he regretted hitting you. He hated doing it every time. But now was not the moment to feel sympathy.

He took ahold of your dirty hair and slammed your head against the pole behind you. It was like a shock, the vibrations rolling through your skull and the pain and ache that continued endlessly.

You couldn't help the sound of your pain that left your mouth.

Kenny kept his facade. "Don't act so fearless now, you know what's in store for you."

He back-talked you for about 5 more minutes and gave you a couple more mild hits before a loud noise erupted from the large front doors of the cathedral. A gunshot.

Suddenly there was screaming from the outside. Everyone spectating turned their attention to the doors of the cathedral.

And without warning the doors busted open. And out through the doors came someone on horseback. He had a dark hood on and you couldn't make out any of his features.

It was like a dream like some unexplainable thing just occurred. What in the world was happening? Why would anyone want to interrupt your execution?

Before you could think about the rapidly approaching horseman any further you heard the double doors behind you open as well.

You strained your neck to see. The king's guards came pouring out of them, one after the other. All suited up in armor and all horseback.

But to your astonishment, the hooded horse rider fearlessly steered in the other direction towards them.

You tried to watch their scrimmage but you felt Kenny suddenly grab your face.

"Listen to me, I'm gonna untie you and you're gonna follow after me. Got it? "

Without thinking you nodded immediately. So he quickly got to work on your bindings.

But as he hastily cut the rope off, a fleeting thought took a hold of you.

Did you want to be saved by Kenny? The man who betrayed you? Part of you would instead still be executed than go with him. You didn't want to go back to being his little obedient assistant. You could live on your own right?

Then Kenny leaned back up, finished with your rope, and instead of paying attention

to what he was saying, you noticed a stray horse galloping behind him and suddenly, it became a lot more interesting than whatever he was ordering you to do. 'I can get out myself' you thought. 'I don't need his help anymore, he was going to let me die anyway.’

As you pulled your arms off just to make sure, you put your plan into action. You quickly threw your head back, and headbutted Kenny as hard as you could.

In reality, it wasn't too hard, but the surprise most definitely made up for it. Kenny sat utterly dumbfounded for a second as you took off in the direction you last saw the horse.

"Y/N! " you heard him roar.

A part of you wanted to stop and curl up in fear but the majority of you sped up.

This was unreal, unheard of. The minute you reached the light brown horse you took a hold of her reigns and wasted no time mounting her.

She hiccupped in her movements and made a move to shake you off but obeyed when you yanked suddenly on the reigns.

The whole time this occurred you heard Kenney's yells.

In your mind, you found it funny. It was about time he stopped treating you like some dog.

You sped around the cathedral before racing towards the exit.

The crowd was loud, the guards were loud and the noise drowned out as you steamrolled your way through. You didn't even look back.

The way forward was not clear. After the double door was passed through, the people in the streets screamed in fear for the stallion bounding in their direction.

The wind zipped past your hair, and for once in your life, you felt on top of the world. You were unbeatable, untouchable, immortal.

You zoomed past shops and police, they were too stunned to stop you. You heard a faint cackling and realized it was coming from you. For some time, you felt like you could feel this way forever, free, happy... Like it could never end.

In your haste and carelessness, you failed to notice the cart in front of you until it was too late.

In your spilt second to reflexes, you steered the horse in an extremely harsh right, and it worked for a moment until you realized you were going to crash headfirst into a tree.

You yanked on the reigns once again, but the inertia flung you out of the saddle and out over the horse.

Unfortunately for you, out past the tree you were trying to avoid, laid out a deep River bank. What was supposed to be a short fall off your horse for a moment, ended up being a 4-second tumble down the rocky side of a river bank.

On your way down, the harsh ridged rocks dug into your skin and did little to hinder your fall. Your limbs got caught on small trees and the pain... The pain was immeasurable.

You hit the water with a splash and promptly passed out.

...

Kenny was pissed.

Beyond pissed.

Honestly, he was so angry it surprised him but he didn't dwell on it for too long.

He and Levi had a near perfectly fine plan, but then you had to fuck it all up with that dumbass little stunt you pulled.

Really, what the fuck were you even thinking? Now he has to go out and look for your dumbass. Any sympathy he felt for hitting you earlier felt completely justified in his eyes now.

I mean, why the fuck didn't you just listen to him? He was helping you for God's sake!??

He forced his way through the same crowds you did with his horse. Looking for any sign of your path.

After a minute of riding, through a gap in the road, Levi caught up and rode alongside him. Levi had changed out of his disguise and was looking for you too.

The more they continued through the town without any clues to your wear about, the angrier Kenny became. He was so fed up. He thought that he might actually kill you when he found you.

But as they drove up the road, there was a crowd in the way.

They slowed down but as they got closer, to their dismay, the crowd wasn’t about Y/N. It seemed like they were trying to calm down a horse.

Kenny huffed in annoyance and tried to force his way through but Levi called out to him.

"Kenny wait,” Levi ordered.

"What!? " Kenny asked exasperatedly.

"Shut up and look at the horse."

Kenny stopped at took a good look at the horse. It was light brown... And for a moment he wondered why he should even care but it finally hit him. The horse you left on looked exactly like it.

He and Levi looked around frantically. You couldn't have gone too far, he's sure they didn't feed you well.

Then, he spotted the cart. It seemed out of place from the start but it was quite literally just sitting in the middle of the road.

Moving around the crowd, with Levi following him, he rode up to the cart and dismounted.

Levi got off his horse questioningly and took both reigns and proceeded to tie them to a nearby tree.

Kenny continued to look around. "I think she's around here somewhere, I'm sure that cart tripped her up."

Levi gave no sign of agreement and instead took a look around as well. In truth, he was annoyed too but understood why you would do this in the first place. Kenny never had a good reputation for being genuine or communicative.

But overall, a part of him was worried, both before this and right now. He never thought he'd think this but he didn't want you to die, and right now, you were seriously in danger.

They continued to scout out the area, around the trees and nearby shops, until, while pushing back some bushes, Levi saw the stream. It was a large river bank with rushing water, and there was a steep decline of rocks and trees to it.

"Kenny! " Levi yelled and moved to carefully start his descent to the water.

As he stepped down the more stable rocks, he noticed that some seemed loose, like they had been moved, and there were spots where there were depressions in the ground where a rock used to be.

Soon enough, Kenny came rushing to the bank as well. Immediately taking after Levi (albeit hastily and less carefully)

It took them some time to reach the bottom, but on the way they saw broken trees and... Blood. Blood coated the smooth rocks and twigs left abandoned by the side of the bank. They grew more perturbed.

Once they reached the bottom Kenny immediately looked around the sides of the water. No signs of you, just undisturbed sand.

"She must have gotten carried away by the river!" Kenny yelled over the rushing water.

He and Levi jogged downstream (The decline into the back was too steep for their horses). It was a large basin of water, all flowing and crashing into large rocks down the slope. Further ahead laid a small waterfall, which didn't leave a good feeling in Kenny’s stomach.

They clambered down the sides and continued looking for you. So far down the stream, there was nothing, but it was their only hope in finding your wear abouts.

When Kenny looked ahead, the stream reached somewhat of a turn, or it was more like a couple of large boulders broke the stream into veins, and the largest ran down to the right and out of view.

The other smaller streams kept riding on, out into different directions but what caught his attention was the odd brown object protruding from between some of the rocks.

Without hesitation, he wadded through the strong current towards it. Levi followed doubtlessly, though, he hesitated because he didn't want to get his boots or pants muddy.

Once Kenny eventually reached the other side, he could see what the strange object was.

There, abandoned on the shore was a stray boot. He knelt, picked it up, and studied it.

It was the left boot and when he thought about it, it was suddenly familiar. He took it in his hands and stood up. There were no footprints, or bootprints, just plain sand.

"YN! " he called out. He looked around desperately. "YN!! "

Levi had already strode ahead, taking note of the boot, he walked forward checking behind large boulders. As he progressed forward, he finally spotted what they were looking for.

A body crumpled up along with the rocks. From what he could see, there was a substantial amount of blood.

"Kenny! " Levi called again as he speed walked towards your unconscious form.

Without missing a beat Kenny took off to where he heard Levi. He kept his pace until he spotted you as well, increasing in speed to get to you faster.

He couldn’t will himself to call out to you again, too afraid of the silence that might follow. You can't die. It isn't possible, he doesn't have time for it.

You were in worse shape than he thought. Of course, Levi reached you first, but from what he could see, your left calf was twisted beyond its normal capabilities. There was blood across your stomach and he could see large scratches and the beginnings of bruises started to form on your skin.

Your clothes were tattered and soaked, whatever skin was showing looked damaged in some way or another. Kenny leaned down and watched Levi hurriedly check your pulse. Even Levi looked concerned... or even scared.

Kenny watched as Levi’s face turned from anxious back to his normal scowl.

“Well, is she alive or dead?!” Kenny half yelled out of nervousness.

“She’s alive,” Levi stated in monotone, “But she’s probably broken some bones and we’ll have to carry her back.”

Kenny grumbled but felt a rush of peace. He didn’t want to admit it but he was tense the whole time before Levi said that.

“Well, let’s get a move on, I’m sick and tired of this shit.” Kenny spat. He sat the boot down and squatted to find a way to pick you up. But as his hands breached under your back and knees, you abruptly started coughing and heaving. It was a thick and heaving cough, and every time you did was excruciating.

“Finally awake huh?” Kenny taunted through gritted teeth, “Have a nice trip?”

You were too disoriented to comprehend what Kenny was saying. You groaned because of the pain and let your eyes adjust. The noise of the water and Kenny’s loud ass voice overwhelmed you.

“What…” You croaked. “Kenny?”

“Yeah it’s me, Princess,” Kenny said sarcastically, “I’m here to save your dumbass.”

“What’s going on?” You asked no one in particular. Your eyes finally adjusted and you could make out Kenny and Levi looking down at you. Levi looked more or less normal but Kenny… well, let’s just say Kenny didn’t look pleased.

“You tell me. We had a plan but it seems like you had other ideas.” he bitched.

“I,” you thought about it but found your brain was having a hard time thinking. “I didn’t know” you muttered dumbly.

“Yeah, I can see that,” Kenny said angrily, “You’re in a butt load of trouble for this little stunt you pulled, first you fuckin’ headbutt me, then you run off and now you’ve troubled both me and Levi by having to walk all the way down here to get you. I haven't even mentioned the stuff we're gonna have to do to get you back and fixed.”

You felt embarrassed, to say the least. If your face wasn’t already burning from the blood rushing to it from the pain, it sure was now. “I thought that- I thought-”

“Well you thought fuckin’ wrong, that’s what you fucking did, you screwed it all up,” Kenny cursed.

Levi had already stood up when you weren’t paying attention, but his voice suddenly made his presence known. He wasn’t one to get into his uncle's affairs, you were Kenny's little brat and had little relation to him, but this was getting to be too much.

“Can we do this shit some other time, Kenny?” Levi spoke with an annoyed tone.

“No! No, I have shit to say to this little fucker.” Kenny barked at him while staring at you.

Kenny then reached down and grabbed at your shirt, hauling you up and causing you to huff. Your legs strained and the ankle, which was numb before, suddenly felt very noticeable and painful. You whimpered and hissed.

“When I fucking tell you to do something, you’re supposed to Fucking Do It!” Kenny hissed while jabbing at you, “Don’t fucken ignore me. Don’t do the opposite. And Don’t Fucking Hit me you little-”

He stopped momentarily when he saw the tears running down your cheeks. “Oh, don’t you think for a second those crocodile tears are gonna’ make me forget this mess sweetheart. You fucked this shit up, and now you’re gonna pay for it.”

Levi cursed and anxiously shuffled on his feet, “Kenny, lets just fucking go, our horses are still-”

“Shut Up! I’m not done!” Kenny ordered, “What were you even thinking huh? Do you want this to happen? Did you think you were gonna do something? Did you think this was gonna change anything? Huh?” Kenny shook you with every question, unaware of the pain this was causing you.

Some more tears fell down your face. You kept grimacing.

After you didn’t answer because of the pain, Kenny continued. “Some shit like this happens every single time! Should I have just left you there? Maybe I should've because now I have to deal with your bullshit again. Do you want me to bring you back!?”

“Kenny, I thought I was gonna die” you sobbed.

Kenny stopped at stared at you. Since you said it through tears and hiccups it took a moment to understand you. “You thought you were gonna die?” He questioned condescendingly.

It took a second for you to answer, because of the hiccups and gasping. “I thought- that you had left me for good. You just left me to die- I thought I was gonna die.”

He stayed silent for a moment. Huffing through his nose and staring at your pain-stricken face, trying to understand exactly what you meant.

“It was when- When” You gasped. “When you turned away from me when they took me away. You turned away and left me.”

Kenny stared at you with a confused expression, but then sighed and looked down when he realized where the misunderstanding happened.

Kenny’s voice was much softer now as if explaining to a toddler he spoke, “Y/N I did that so that the MP didn’t think it was a setup. You know that I have to act so that they didn’t suspect anything.”

“No- No I didn’t because I had no clue you were with the MP. You just-” You huffed once more, “You just left me and I had to stay there with- with no food and in fear because- because I was gonna die. I thought I was gonna die for sure.” You whimpered and sputtered. “And- And you’re really h-hurting me.” You added pitifully.

Kenny hesitated, as if somewhat surprised that he was causing you physical pain, before calmly setting you back down.

He waited for a moment over you, mulling over his actions and the miscommunication that had accrued.

“Let’s go,” Kenny decided, “Levi, help me.”

Levi returned to your side hastily, happy this argument was finally over, and supported your body as Kenny carefully pulled you up and held your bridal style. As he adjusted you, you continued to groan and hiss. Your arm rose to grab onto something because of anxiety since you couldn’t remember the last time you were picked up.

Your hand grasped onto the back of Kenny’s collar and your head rested near Kenny’s shoulder. You continued to huff involuntarily.

Levi grabbed your left boot and they began to walk, without the urgency they had before, up the river. Every step Kenny took left a sting in your leg since it moved with the inertia of his movement but you keep silent.

You closed your eyes and tried to fight the shame and embarrassment that was overcoming you. ‘Another time I fuck it all up, Kenny is right, I really am just a burden.’ Your conscious tormented. ‘Every time I’m around something bad happens. They really should’ve just left me to die.’

“Kenny…” You started hesitantly, “I’m really sorry”

You heard no response and it left you feeling incredibly stupid. ‘What was an apology gonna do? Fix things?’ But something distracted you from thinking this way for too long because you noticed Kenny’s heartbeat had increased substantially.

“Just… don’t you ever do that again,” Kenny said softly while stepping over a particularly large rock. Causing you to wince.

“I won't..” You muttered.

He took this as an invitation to continue talking. “You gave me quite a fright ya know? All I know is that you’re gone and you’ve lost a lot of blood. And then we finally find you and you’re unconscious… heh, you said you were scared you were gonna die, well I was scared shitless that you actually were.” He admitted with a weak smile.

After a moment with no response, he suddenly felt a deep despairing pit form in his gut and he quickly looked down at you.

“Levi, she’s not responding.” He spoke with urgency.

“She’s just sleeping” Levi answered calmly, “She lost a lot of blood.”

Kenny tutted with embarrassment. Nodding as if he already knew that.

“Jesus kid, you’re gonna give me a heart attack.” He spoke under his breath.

★ I know I haven't posted in like, 2 years but im a one hit wonder except my hits aren't wonders they're mistakes.

Also, this is NOT lore accurate at all 😅 I can't even remember theast time I've seen at I just randomly remembered my liking towards Kenny and felt the need to write it.

And actually, if you can't tell, I wrote this on the course of 2 years, some of the beginning is low quality but the end is recent so if it sounds different halfway through apologies.

Also, I wish I could recall the name and uthor but this is a little bit inspired by their Kenny x reader fics where it's in a western AU. I just loved it so much that now whenever I imagine Kenny it's when he's some wanted outlaw in the Wild West.

‼️I have a part 2 if anyone is interested. I'll probably post it anyway if this gets attention 👍

[specialagentlokitty]

Rick Grimes x reader - starting with trust, ending with us

Part 1:

You had no intention of staying in one spot for too long, in a world like this one that wasn’t the best idea, it was safer to keep morning.

But the gash in your leg had changed those plans, and you couldn’t travel far on it without falling, so, you stuck to the trees.

You knew there was other nearby, from the traps scattered around, and the fact that when you checked them sometimes they would be empty and set again, sometimes they wouldn’t be, a walker getting to the food before whoever was caring for the traps.

If that was the case you would dispose of the walkers and the spoiled food, and set the traps once again, using them for your own benefit as well.

You didn’t take much from whoever it was, you only took the smaller animals, leaving the bigger ones.

It wasn’t the most ideal way to live but it worked for you, and it kept you alive, and that’s what it was doing right now.

Your camp was surrounded by wooden spike in the ground acting as a wall, going out in all directions, your fire burning as you cooked the rabbit you had caught.

Your shelter was just a couple of sheets you had scavenged a while back and tied together just to keep the blistering sun, or rain off you if it rained.

Rolling up the leg to your trousers, you slowly began to unwrap the dirty bandage, getting a look at the infected wound and you sighed.

Grabbing the pot over your fire, you stretched your leg out, poured the water over it.

You didn’t know if it would help, but at least it would kill any bacteria that was trying to call your wound it’s home.

Your skin was an angry red, and you grabbed your water bottle, pouring the cold water over it to make it a little better.

Rolling your trouser leg back down, you tucked it back into your boot, and you leant against the tree behind you.

You heard noises nearby, and you hauled yourself up, grabbing the pole that you were using as a walking stick and a weapon, making your way to the edge of your camp.

You could see a man fighting a small group of walkers not far from you, and you shuffled between a few of the spikes.

Standing on the outside, you slowly made your way over, mindful not to make any noise at all.

You crept closer, and you stood behind a tree, watching from behind it, trying to figure out if he could handle them and what he was doing so close to your camp.

You watched as he was knocked over, hand on the head of a walked as he tried to grab his weapon.

You made your move, limping over you shoved the pole through the creatures skull, and pulled it out, placing your foot over the handle of his knife.

He pushed the body off, and turned his head towards you.

“You’re the one who’s been taking our food.” He said.

You said nothing, you stabbed the pole into the ground and leant down, picking up the knife and he stood up.

You studied him for a moment, getting a quick read of him and you turned the knife around, holding the blade as you held out the handle to him.

He wasn’t going to kill you, that much you could tell.

He took it.

“What’s your name?”

You turned around, slowly limped back to your camp, pushing the spikes back to where they were supposed to be so nothing else could get in.

The man followed you, and you stood watching him.

“Why did you save me?”

You said nothing, and he sighed, looking around a little unsure.

“May I?”

He gestured to your wall, and you pushed some aside to let him in before closing it again.

He didn’t show signs of leaving soon, and you couldn’t have him attracting walkers to your base, or getting killed in front of it.

You pointed to him, then a spot in front of the fire before walking around to sit on the other side of the camp away from him.

He sat where you pointed, shuffling a little to the side to get a better view of you.

Clad in camouflage trousers, black combat boots, a black shirt and leather jacket with a glove on your right hand, a bandanna around your neck, dried blood on your face.

You had clearly been out here a while.

“Thank you for helping me, and for resetting the traps. Do you have a name? I’m Rick.”

You said nothing.

“How long have you been out here for?”

Again, nothing.

“We know you’re injured, one of my friends saw you limping a week ago, you’re still limping now, have you been bitten?”

You shook your head slowly.

“Can I take a look?”

Rick went to move, only stopping when you picked up the metal pole, aiming to through it right through his head and he stopped, slowly sitting down.

“Okay, okay. I won’t come any closer if you don’t want me to. But I have a safe space, not far away, food, shelter, medicine, someone who can look at your leg for you. I just have three questions.”

With how one sided the conversation had been Rick wasn’t actually expecting you to give him any response, but he still wanted to try.

You had saved his life, that didn’t mean he trusted you, but he still wanted to repay that favour to you, but he had to protect his family first.

“How many walkers have you killed?”

You stared at him.

“How many people have you killed?”

No response.

“Why?”

You just stared at him blankly, not interested in the questions he was asking you, or giving him any answers to them.

Rick sighed, looking at the sky before looking back at you.

“At least come so we can help with your leg, you’re not going to survive much longer out here alone with it like that. There’s more and more coming here every day.”

You knew he was right, because you had noticed the increase in activity. If a horde were to come through your base wouldn’t last, it would fall.

You had made it with the idea of keeping the stragglers away, not a whole army of them.

With your leg the way it was you wouldn’t exactly be running away anywhere soon either, you’d be a sitting duck. You were a sitting duck.

But in your condition you couldn’t fight a large group of humans either, you didn’t know how many he had, or if this was a trap, so, you shook your head.

“Are you sure?”

You slowly nodded.

“Okay.”

Rick pushed himself up and backed away, making his way to your fence and you get up, limping over to move it while keeping your weapon aimed at him.

You took a few steps back and watched him leave before closing it again.

Rick glanced at you again before he left.

You thought that would be the last you saw of him, but the following day he came back with a bag, and he held it over your face, dropping it between a few of the spikes carefully.

“Just a few things, mostly for your leg, some instructions on what to do.”

You got up, making your way over you used the pole to pick it up, backing away as you brought it over.

Sitting down, you dumped the contents on the floor, searching it all throughly.

You noticed the bandages open, so you tossed them back over the spikes, along with some wrapped up food.

Rick picked them up, holding them in one hand.

“You don’t want them?”

He looked at them a little confused before it hit him after a moment.

It was because they weren’t sealed, because they were open or homemade, you didn’t trust him so of course you wouldn’t take that sort of stuff.

He set them by his feet and looked at you, and you held up a notepad.

“Well, I figured since you don’t seem comfortable maybe you could write instead, there’s a pen too.”

You looked for the pen and picked it up, flicking to the first page you scribbled a few things down, tore it out and tossed it at him.

It hit his head and fell to the floor so he picked it up, unballing it to read what you wrote.

“I uh… I don’t understand the language.”

You held out your hand and he threw it back, and you wrote again before tossing it back over.

‘Why?’

Rick glanced at you.

“Why did it bring this?”

You nodded.

“Because you need help, you won’t come to us for help, so I’ll bring the help to you. You don’t trust me, I get that, honestly I wouldn’t trust me either if I was in your shoes, but you do need some of these things.”

You blankly stared at him.

“The world is a shit storm now, I know what it’s like to be on your own in this, and it’s hard. You don’t have to come with me, I won’t make you, but the offer is there.”

You turned your attention to putting things away in the bag.

Rick sighed, picking up the things you had thrown and he left again.

When he was gone you quickly tended to your leg, using what was given to you, and you put the rest in your bag.

He kept coming back, every day for a short while to try talk you into going with him to safety, for help, and to bring you something.

He was determined, and even after a week he hadn’t given up on trying to help you out.

Looking at his empty bag, you got up, swinging it over your shoulder, grabbing your gun for your other shoulder and your metal pole, leaving your camp.

You made your way to the prison first, hiding in the grass as you looked through the scope of your gun.

They had made it into a home, you knew that, but you weren’t expecting a working farm, or children, or so many adults.

They had plenty of guards, and you scanned over the people you could see, and you saw Rick, holding a baby in his arm.

That would explain the questions he had asked you, he needed to make sure you were good, his family would be safe around you.

Putting your gun on your back, you crept back towards your camp and past it.

You knew there was a store nearby, one hidden away by a car pile up, you had been using it for your canned foods, trying to make it last as long as possible.

Making your way there, you pried the door open and walked in, swiping things from the shelves into his bag before going back.

Limping past your camp, you carried on through the forest for maybe half an hour until you found the prison again and you knelt down in the tall grass.

Setting the bag down, you grabbed your gun, looking through the scope.

You counted the people you saw, and determined the best course of action.

You had to wait until the coast was clear, so you sat there waiting, hours slipping by, not making a sound.

Then you saw your break, it must have been the changing of the lookouts, because as a man and a woman started leave one tower, the rest seemed to be heading inside.

Getting up, you made your to their gate as quickly as you could, climbing up on the fence next to it, you carefully placed the bag hanging on a bit of the higher broken fence before climbing down.

Giving the fence a little shake to see if it would stay, you left as quickly as you had come, heading back to your own camp for the night.

It was Rick that found the bag the following morning, and with a bit of struggling he managed to get it down from where you had put it.

Backing away from the fence he opened it carefully, finding it full of tinned food and two tubs of baby food, some clothes, and some toys.

He looked around, but going by how cold the bag was it had definitely been out there all night, but he knew it was you, because he left this bag with you.

You had clearly taken the time to put everything in so it would all fit.

He smiled a little, and he closed it, swinging it over his shoulder to take it inside after his rounds.

He didn’t know you were sat in the grass watching through the scope of your sniper to make sure one of them had gotten it.

When you saw him take it you had left, going back to your own camp, killing a few walkers along the way.

It wasn’t safe there anymore, and you had to find somewhere new to go

[thewidowsghost]

Seeing the Beauty (Piper McLean x Fem!Jackson!Reader) - Chapter 8

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

(Y/n) stands in a clearing in the middle of a redwood forest, In front of her rises the ruins of a stone mansion. Low gray clouds blend with the ground fog, and the cold rain hangs in the air. A pack of large gray beasts mills round her, brushing against her legs and baring their teeth. They gently nudge her towards the ruins.

With no intention of becoming the world's largest dog biscuit, (Y/n) decides to do what they want.

The ground squelches under her combat boots as she walks. Stone spires of chimneys, no longer attached to anything, rise up like totem poles. The house must've been enormous once, multi-storied with massive log walls and a soaring gabled roof, but now nothing remains but its stone skeleton. (Y/n) finds herself passing under a crumbling doorway and almost knocks Jason over.

"Jason?" (Y/n) questions, and Jason turns, looking surprised.

"You're in my dream," both demigods say in unison, and (Y/n) cracks a grin.

(Y/n) and Jason are standing above a drained reflecting pool, long and rectangular. Jason can't tell how deep the pool is, due to the mist filling the bottom. A dirt path lies all the way around, and the house's uneven walls rise on either side. Wolves pace under the archways of rough red volcanic stone.

At the far end of the pool sits a giant she-wolf, several feet taller than the two demigods. Her eyes glow silver into the fog and her coat is the same color as the rocks – warm chocolaty red.

"I know this place," Jason realizes.

(Y/n) glances over at her friend, surprised.

The wolf regards Jason. She doesn't exactly speak, but Jason can understand her. The movements of her ears and whiskers, the flash of her eyes, the way she curls her lips – all a part of her language.

Of course, the she-wolf says. You began your journey here as a pup. Now you must find your way back. A new quest, a new start.

"That isn't fair," Jason replies to the wolf, and (Y/n) figures this is what it would look to others when they saw her talking to Blackjack.

The wolf says: Conquer or die. This is always our way.

Jason wasn't to protest that he can't conquer if she doesn't know who he is, who he was, or where he's supposed to go. But he knows this would. Her name is simply Lupa, the Mother Wolf, the greatest of her kind. Long ago, she'd found him in this place, protected him, nurtured him, chosen him, but if Jason showed weakness, she would tear him to shreds. Rather than being her pup, he would become her dinner. In the wolf pack, weakness is not an option.

"Can you guide me?" Jason asks.

Lupa makes a rumbling noise deep in her throat, and the mist in the pool dissolves.

At first, Jason isn't sure what he's seeing. At opposite ends of the pool two dark spires had erupted from the cement floor lithe drill bits of massive tunneling machines boring through the surface.

(Y/n) can't tell if the spires are made from rock or petrified vines, but they are formed of thick tendrils that come together in a point at the top. Each spire is about five feet tall, but they aren't identical. The one closest to the demigods is darker, and seems like a solid mass, its tendrils fused together. As they watch, it pushes a little farther out of the earth and expands a little wider.

On Lupa's end of the pool, the second spire's tendrils are more open, like the bars of a cage. Inside, (Y/n0 can see a misty figure struggling, shifting within its confines.

"Hera," Jason realizes.

The she-wolf growls in agreement. The other wolves circle the pool, their fur standing up on their backs as they snarl at the spires.

The enemy has chosen this place to awaken her most powerful son, the giant king, Lupa says. Our sacred place, where demigods are claimed – the place of death or life. The burned house. It is an abomination. You must stop her?

"Her?" Jason looks confused. "You mean, Hera?"

The she-wolf gnashes her teeth impatiently. Use your senses, pup. I care nothing for Juno, but if she falls, our enemy wakes. And that will be the end for all of us. You know this place. You can find it again. Cleanse our house. Stop this before it is too late.

The dark spire grows slightly larger, like the bulb of some horrible flower. Jason sense that if it ever opens, it would release something that he did not want to meet.

"Who am I?" Jason asks the she-wolf. "At least tell me that."

Wolves didn't seem to have a sense of humor, but Jason can tell that the question amused Lupa, as though Jason was a cub just trying out his claws, practicing to the alpha male.

You are our saving grace, as always, the she-wolf curls her lip, as if she'd just made a clever joke. Do not fail, Son of Jupiter.

. . .

(Y/n) picks herself off the ground off her cabin.

I have to stop having dreams and flashbacks like this, (Y/n) wipes the blood pouring from her chin.

The main door of the cabin slams open, and (Y/n) opens the door to her room.

"What's going on?" (Y/n) pulls her pen from the pocket of her jeans, uncapping it.

"Hurry!" (Y/n) can't tell if Butch, the Iris camper, was excited or scared. "The dragon is back."

. . .

"Leo?" Piper yells.

Sure enough, there he is, sitting atop a giant bronze death machine and grinning like a lunatic. Even before he lands, the camp alarm goes up. A conch horn blows. All the satyrs start screaming, "Don't kill me!" Half of the camp runs outside in a mixture of pajamas and armor. The dragon sets down right in the middle of the green, and Leo yells, "It's cool! Don't shoot!"

Hesitantly, the archers lower their bows. The warriors back away, keeping their spears and swords ready. They make a loose wide ring around the metal monster. Other demigods hide behind their cabin doors or peep out the windows. Nobody seems anxious to get close.

Piper can't blame them. The dragon is huge, glistening in the morning sun like a living penny sculpture — different shades of copper and bronze — a sixty-foot-long serpent with steel talons and drill-bit teeth and glowing ruby eyes. It had bat-shaped wings twice its length that unfurl like metallic sails, making a sound like coins cascading out of a slot machine every time they flap.

"It's beautiful," Piper murmurs. The other demigods stare at her like she's insane.

The dragon rears its head and shoots a column of fire into the sky. Campers scramble away and heft their weapons, but Leo slides calmly off the dragon's back. He holds up his hands like he is surrendering, except that he still has that crazy grin on his face.

"People of Earth, I come in peace!" he shouts. Leo looks like he'd been rolling around in the campfire. His army coat and his face are smeared with soot. His hands are grease-stained, and he is wearing a new tool belt around his waist. His eyes are bloodshot. His curly hair is so oily it sticks up in porcupine quills, and he smells strangely of Tabasco sauce. But he looks absolutely delighted. "Festus is just saying hello!"

"That thing is dangerous!" an Ares girl shouts, brandishing her spear. "Kill it now!"

"Stand down!" someone orders. To Piper's surprise, it's (Y/n). She pushes through the crowd, slipping her pen into her pocket, flanked by Annabeth, Nyssa, Jason, and Butch.

(Y/n) gazes up at the dragon and shakes her head in amazement. "Leo, what've you done?"

"Found a ride!" Leo beamed, then he glances over at Jason. "You said I could go on the quest if I got you a ride. Well, I got you a class-A metallic flying bad boy! Festus can take us anywhere!"

"It – has wings," Nyssa stammers. Her jaw looks as though it might drop off her face.

"Yeah!" Leo replies. "I found them and reattached them."

"But it never had wings. Where did you find them?"

Leo hesitates, and Piper can tell he is hiding something. "In . . . the woods," he says. "Repaired his circuits, too, mostly, so no more problems with him going haywire."

"Mostly?" Nyssa asks.

The dragon's head twitches. It tilts to one side and a stream of black liquid — maybe oil, hopefully just oil, Piper thinks — pours out of its ear, all over Leo.

"Just a few kinks to work out," Leo grins.

"But how did you survive . . .?" Nyssa is still staring at the creature in awe. "I mean, the fire breath . . ."

"I'm quick," Leo replies. "And lucky. Now, am I on this quest, or what?"

Jason scratches his head. "You named him Festus? You know that in Latin, 'festus' means 'happy'? You want us to ride off to save the world on Happy the Dragon?"

The dragon twitches and shudders and flaps his wings.

"That's a yes, bro!" Leo says. "Now, urn, I'd really suggest we get going, guys. I already picked up some supplies in the — urn, in the woods. And all these people with weapons are making Festus nervous."

Jason frowns. "But we haven't planned anything yet. We can't just—"

"Go," Annabeth says. She is the only one who doesn't look nervous at all. Her expression is sad and wistful, like this reminded her of better times. "Jason, you've only got three days until the solstice now, and you should never keep a nervous dragon waiting. This is certainly a good omen. Go!"

Jason nods. Then he smiles at Piper. "You ready, partner?"

Piper looks at the bronze dragon wings shining against the sky, and the talons that could've shredded her to pieces. "You bet," she says.

. . .

Flying on the dragon has to be the coolest thing I've ever done, Piper thinks.

Up high, the air is freezing cold; but the dragon's metal hide generates so much heat, it is like they are flying in a protective bubble, and the grooves in the dragon's back are designed like high-tech saddles, so they aren't uncomfortable. Leo shows the others how to hook their feet in the chinks of the armor, like in stirrups, and use the leather safety harnesses cleverly concealed under the exterior plating. The demigods sit in single file: Leo in front, then Jason, then Piper, and then (Y/n), and Piper seems hyper aware that (Y/n) is right behind her. Part of her brain wishes that –. Piper cuts off her thoughts, shaking her head.

Leo uses the reins to steer the dragon into the sky like he'd been doing it all his life. The meal wings work perfectly, and soon the coast of Long Island is just a hazy line behind them. They shoot over Connecticut and climb into the gray winter clouds.

Leo grins back at them. "Cool, right?"

"What if we get spotted?" Piper asks.

"The Mist," Jason replies. "It keeps mortals from seeing magic things. If they spot us, they'll probably mistake us for a small plane or something."

Piper glanced over his shoulder. "You sure about that?"

"No," he admits. Then Piper sees he is clutching a photo in his hand — a picture of a girl with dark hair.

She gives Jason a quizzical look, but he blushes and puts the photo in his pocket. "We're making good time. Probably get there by tonight."

Piper wonders who the girl in the picture is, but she doesn't want to ask; and if Jason didn't volunteer the information, that wasn't a good sign. Had he remembered something about his life before? Was that a photo of his real girlfriend? Stop it, she thinks.

Piper asks a safer question. "Where are we heading?"

"To find the god of the North Wind," Jason replies. "And chase some storm spirits."

. . .

"Shut up, me," Leo says aloud, startling (Y/n) a little.

"What?" (Y/n) asks.

"Nothing," Leo replies. "Long night. I think I;m hallucinating. It's cool."

Sitting in front, Leo can't see their faces, but he assumes from their silence that his friends are not pleased to have a sleepless, hallucinating dragon driver.

"Just joking," Leo decides it might be good to change the subject. "So, what's the plan, bro?" Leo asks Jason. "You said something about catching wind, or breaking wind, or something?"

Leo smiles slightly as he hears the snort of laughter that comes from one of his friends – probably (Y/n). He liked joking to make his friends happy.

As they fly over New England, Jason lies out the game plan: First, find some guy named Boreas and grill him for information –

"His name is Boreas?" Leo has to ask. "What is he, the god of Boring?"

Second, Jason continues, they had to find those venti that had attacked them at teh Grand Canyon –

"Can we just call them storm spirits?" Leo asks.

"Venti makes them seem like evil espressos," (Y/n) agrees, and Leo turns to grin at his friend.

And third, Jason finished, they had to find out who the storm spirits worked for, so they could find Hera and free her.

"So you want to look for Dylan, the nasty storm dude, on purpose," Leo said. "The guy who threw me off the skywalk and sucked Coach Hedge into the clouds."

"That's about it," Jason said. "Well ... there may be a wolf involved, too. But I think she's friendly. She probably won't eat us, unless we show weakness."

"So, it was like a weird shared dreamscape," (Y/n) says aloud, and Piper lets out a murmurs of confusion.

Jason and (Y/n) tell Piper and Leo about their dream — the big nasty mother wolf and a burned-out house with stone spires growing out of the swimming pool.

"Uh-huh," Leo says. "But you don't know where this place is."

"Nope," Jason admits.

"There's also giants," Piper adds. "The prophecy said the giants' revenge."

"Hold on," Leo says. "Giants — like more than one? Why can't it be just one giant who wants revenge?"

"I don't think so," Piper says. "I remember in some of the old Greek stories, there was something about an army of giants."

"One to rival each of the gods, like the Titans," (Y/n) adds.

"Great," Leo mutters. "Of course, with our luck, it's an army. So you know anything else about these giants? Didn't you do a bunch of myth research for that movie with your dad, Piper?"

"Your dad's an actor?" Jason asks.

Leo laughs. "I keep forgetting about your amnesia. Heh. Forgetting about amnesia. That's funny. But yeah, her dad's Tristan McLean."

"Uh — Sorry, what was he in?"

"It doesn't matter," Piper says quickly. "The giants — well, there were lots of giants in Greek mythology. But if I'm thinking of the right ones, they were bad news. Huge, almost impossible to kill. They could throw mountains and stuff. I think they were related to the Titans. They rose from the earth after Kronos lost the war — I mean the first Titan war, thousands of years ago — and they tried to destroy Olympus. If we're talking about the same giants —"

"Chiron said it was happening again," Jason recalls. "The last chapter. That's what he meant. No wonder he didn't want us to know all the details."

Leo whistles. "So . . . giants who can throw mountains. Friendly wolves that will eat us if we show weakness. Evil espresso drinks. Gotcha. Maybe this isn't the time to bring up my psycho babysitter."

"Is that another joke?" Piper asks.

Leo tells them about Tia Callida, his evil babysitter, who was really Hera, and how she'd appeared to him at camp. Leo also manages to tell them about the night his mother had died, not mentioning the fire, just that the machine shop had collapsed. It is easier for Leo to tell the story without having to look at his friends, and just keeping his eyes forward as they fly.

And then he tells them about the strange woman in earthen robes who seemed to be asleep, and seemed to know the future.

Leo estimates the whole state of Massachuttes passes below them before his friends speak.

"That's disturbing," Piper says.

"Bout sums it up," Leo agrees. "Thing is, everybody says don't trust Hera. She hates demigods."

(Y/n) laughs bitterly, "You can say that again. She tried to crush me and my friends with a giant statue of herself. Broke my friend Thalia's legs."

Piper glances back at her friend. "You remembered?"

"More of a pass out memory flash," (Y/n) replies, but Piper just looks more confused, but (Y/n) continues, "The prophecy says we'd cause death if we unleash her rage. So why the hell are we doin' this?"

"She chose us," Jason says. "I suspect that Piper, Leo, and I are the first of the seven who have to gather for the Great Prophecy."

(Y/n) adds, "And I think I'm the 'Child of the Sea' that's supposed to 'drop into endless darkness'. Probably hell if I know myself," she jokes, and the others also laugh, and Leo appreciates how easily (Y/n) could put everyone at ease.

"Besides," Jason continues, "helping Hera is the only way (Y/n) and I can get our memories back. And that dark spire in our dream seemed to be feeding off Hera's energy."

(Y/n) nods, "If that thing unleashes a 'king of the giants' by destroying Hera –"

"Not a good trade-off," Piper agrees. "At least Hera is on our side – mostly. Losing her would throw the gods into chaos. She's the main one who keeps peace in the family. And a war with the giants could be even more destructive than the Titan War."

Jason nods. "Chiron also talks about worse forces stirring on the solstice, with it being a good time for dark magic, and all – something that could awaken if Hera were sacrificed on that day. And this mistress who's controlling the storm spirits, the one who wants to kill all the demigods –"

"Might be that weird sleeping lady," (Y/n) finishes.

"Dirt Woman, fully awake?" Leo says. "Not something I want to see."

"But who is she?" Jason asks. "And what does she have to do with the giants?"

All good questions, but none of the demigods have answers. They fly in silence while Leo wonders if he'd done the right thing, sharing so much. He'd never told anyone about that night at the warehouse. Even if he hadn't given them the whole story, it still feels strange, like he'd opened up his chest and taken out all the gears that made him tick. His body is shaking, and not from the cold. He hopes Jason, sitting behind him, can't tell.

The forge and dove shall break the cage. Wasn't that the prophecy line? That meant Leo and Piper would have to figure out how to break into that magic rock prison, assuming they could find it.

Festus keeps flying. The wind gets colder, and below them, snowy forests seem to go on forever. Leo doesn't know exactly where Quebec is – he'd told Festus to take them to the palace of Boreas, and Festus kept going north. Hopefully, the dragon knows the way, and they wouldn't end up at the North Pole.

"Why don't you get some sleep?" Jason says in Leo's ear. "You were up all night."

Leo wants to protest, but the word sleep sound really good. "You won't let me fall off?"

Jason pats his shoulder. "Trust me, Leo."

"Right," he mutters. He leans forward against the warm bronze of the dragon's neck and closes his eyes."

. . .

When Jason shakes Leo awake, the daylight is fading.

"We're here," he says.

Leo rubs the sleep out of his eyes. Below, a city sits on a cliff overlooking a river. The plains around it are dusted with snow, but the city itself glows warmly in the winter sunset. Buildings crowd together inside high walls like a medieval town, way older than anyplace Leo had seen before. In the center is an actual castle – at least Leo assumes it's a castle – with massive red brick walls and a square tower with a peaked, green gabled roof.

"Tell me that's Quebec and not Santa's workshop," Leo says.

"Yeah, Quebec City," Piper confirms. "One of the oldest cities in North America. Founded around sixteen hundred or so?"

Leo raises an eyebrow. "Your dad do a movie about that too?"

(Y/n) laughs while Piper makes a face at him, "I read sometimes, okay?" Piper retorts. "Just because Aphrodite claimed me, doesn't mean I have to be an airhead."

"Feisty!" Leo says. "So you know so much, what's that castle?"

"A hotel, I think."

Leo laughs, "No way."

But as they get closer, the demigods find that Piper is right. The grand entrance is bustling with doormen, valets, and porters taking bags. Sleek black luxury cars idle in the drive. People in elegant suits and winter cloaks hurry to get out of the cold.

"The North Wind is staying in a hotel?" Leo says. "That can't be –"

"Heads up, guys," Jason interrupts. "We got company!"

Leo looks below and sees what Jason means. Rising from the top of the tower are two winged figures – angry angels, with nasty looking swords.

Festus doesn't seem to like the angel guys. He swoops to a halt in midair, wings beating a talons bared, and makes a rumbling sound in his throat that Leo recognizes – the dragon was ready to blow fire.

"Steady, Boy," Leo mutters, patting the dragon's neck. Something tells the son of Hephestus that the angels would not take kindly to getting torched.

"I don't like this," Jason says. "They look like storm spirits."

"The evil espressos," (Y/n) mutters, and Piper glances back at her, amused.

At first, Leo thinks Jason is right, but as the angels get closer, he can see that they are much more solid than venti. They look like regular teenagers except for their icy white hair and feathery purple wings. Their bronze swords are jagged, like icicles. Their faces look similar enough that they might have been brothers, but definitely not twins.

One is the size of an ox, with a bright red hockey jersey, baggy sweatpants, and black leather cleats. The guy clearly had been in too many fights – both eyes are black, and when he bares his teeth, several of them are missing.

The other guys looks like he'd just stepped off of one of Leo's mom's 1980s rock album covers – Journey, maybe, or Hall & Oates. His ice-white hair is long and feathered into a mullet. He wears pointy-toed leather shoes, designer pants that are way too tight, and an awful silk shirt with the top three buttons open. Maybe he thinks he looks like a groovy love got, but the guy couldn't have weighed more than ninety pounds, and a bad case of acne.

The angels pull up in front of the dragon and hover there, swords at the ready.

The 'ox' grunts, "No clearance."

"'Scuse me?" Leo questions.

"You have not flight plan on file," explains the 'groovy love god.' On top of his other problems, he has a French accent so bad (Y/n) is sure it's fake. "This is restricted airspace."

"Destroy them?" The 'ox' shows off his gap-toothed grin.

The dragon begins to hiss steam, ready to defend them.

(Y/n) had summoned her bronze sword, but Leo cries, "Hold on! Let's have some manners here, boys. Can I at least find out who has the honor of destroying me?"

"I am Cal!" the 'ox' grunts. He looks very proud of himself, like he'd taken a long time to memorize that sentence.

"That's short for Calais," the 'love god' says. "Sadly, my brother cannot say words with more than two syllables –"

"Pizza! Hockey! Destroy!" Cal offers.

" – which includes his own name," the 'love god' finishes.

"I am Cal," Cal repeats. And this is Zethes! My brother!"

"Wow," (Y/n) says, her sword shrinking back into a ballpoint pen. "That was almost three sentences, man! Way to go."

Cal grunts, obviously pleased with himself.

"Stupid buffoon," his brother grumbles. "They make fun of you. But no matter. I am Zethes, which is short of Zethes. And the lady there –" he winks at Piper, but the wink is more like a facial seizure. "She can call me anything she likes. Perhaps she would like to have dinner with a famous demigod before we must destroy you?"

Piper makes a sound like gagging on a couch drop. "That's . . . a truly horrifying offer."

"It is no problem," Zethes wiggles his eyebrows. "We are a very romantic people, we Boreads."

"Boreads?" Jason cuts in. "Do you mean, like, the sons of Boreas?"

"Ah, so you've heard of us!" Zethes looks pleased. "We are our father's gatekeepers. So you understand, we cannot have unauthorized people flying in his airspace on creaky dragons, scaring the silly mortal peoples." He points below and (Y/n) sees that the mortals are starting to take notice. Several are pointing up – not with alarm, yet – more with confusion and annoyance, the bronze dragon is a traffic helicopter flying too low.

"Which is sadly why, unless this is an emergency landing," Zethes says, brushing his hair out of his acne-covered face, "we will have to destroy you painfully."

"Destroy!" Cal agrees, with a little more enthusiasm than (Y/n) thinks is necessary.

"Wait!" Piper says. "This is an emergency landing."

"Awww!" Cal looks so disappointed, Leo almost feels sorry for him.

Zethes studies Piper, which of course he'd already been doing. "How does the pretty girl decide this is an emergency, then?"

"We have to see Boreas. It's totally urgent! Please?" She forces a smile, which Leo figures looks been killing her; but she still has that blessing of Aphrodite thing going on, and she looks great. Something about her voice, too — Leo finds himself believing every word. (Y/n) was nodding, looking absolutely convinced.

Zethes picks at his silk shirt, probably making sure it is still open wide enough. "Well . . . I hate to disappoint a lovely lady, but you see, my sister, she would have an avalanche if we allowed you —"

"And our dragon is malfunctioning!" Piper adds. "It could crash any minute!"

Festus shudders helpfully, then turns his head and spills gunk out of his ear, splattering a black Mercedes in the parking lot below.

"No destroy?" Cal whimpers.

Zethes ponders the problem. Then he gives Piper another spasmodic wink. "Well, you are pretty. I mean, you're right. A malfunctioning dragon — this could be an emergency."

"Destroy them later?" Cal offers, which was probably as close to friendly as he ever got.

"It will take some explaining," Zethes decides. "Father has not been kind to visitors lately. But, yes. Come, faulty dragon people. Follow us."

The Boreads sheathes their swords and pull smaller weapons from their belts — or at least Leo thinks they are weapons. Then the Boreads switch them on, and Leo realizes they are flashlights with orange cones, like the ones traffic controller guys use on a runway. Cal and Zethes turn and swoop toward the hotel's tower.

Leo turns to his friends. "I love these guys. Follow them?"

Jason and Piper don't look eager.

"I guess," Jason decides. "We're here now. But I wonder why Boreas hasn't been kind to visitors."

"Pfft, he just hasn't met us." Leo whistles. "Festus, after those flashlights!"

As they get closer, (Y/n) worries that they are going to crash into the tower. The Boreads make right for the green gabled peak and don't slow down. Then a section of the slanted room slides open, revealing an entrance easily wide enough for Festus. The top and bottom are lined with icicles like jagged teeth.

"This cannot be good," Jason mutters, but Leo spurs the dragon downward, and they swoop in after the Boreads.

They land in what must have been the penthouse suite; but the place had been hit by a flash freeze. The entry hall has vaulted ceilings forty feet high, huge draped windows, and lush oriental carpets. A staircase at the back to the room leads up to another equally massive hall, and more corridors branch off to the left and right. But the ice makes the room's beauty a little frightening. When (Y/n) slides off the dragon, the carpet crunches under her feet. A fine layer of frost covers the furniture. The curtains don't budge because they are frozen solid, and the ice-coated windows let in weird watery light from the sunset. Even the ceiling is furry with icicles. As for the stairs, (Y/n) is sure she'd slip and break her neck if she tries to climb them.

"Guys," Leo says, "fix the thermostat in here, and I would totally move in."

"Not me," Jason looks uneasily at the staircase. "Something feels wrong. Something up there . . ."

Festus shudders and snorts flames and frost starts to form on his scales.

"No, no, no," Zethes marches over, though how he could walk in those pointed leather shoes, (Y/n) has no idea. "The dragon must be deactivated. We can't have fire in here. The heat ruins my hair."

"Mine too," (Y/n) jokes, running her hand over her short hair and Piper lets out a snort of laughter.

Festus growls at Zethes and spins his drill-bit teeth.

"S'okay, boy," Leo turns to Zethes. "The dragon's a little touchy about the whole deactivation concept. But I've got a better solution."

"Destroy?" Cal suggests.

"No, man. You gotta stop with the destroy talk. Just wait."

"Leo," Piper says nervously, "what are you –"

"Watch and learn, beauty queen. When I was repairing Festus last night, I found all kinds of buttons. Some, you do not want to know what they do. But others . . . Ah, here we go." Leo hooks his fingers behind the dragon's left foreleg. He pulls a switch, and the dragon shudders from head to toe. Everyone backs away as Festus folds like origami. His bronze plating stacks together. His neck and tail contracts into his body. His wings collapse and his truck compacts until he is a rectangular metal wedge about the size of a suitcase.

Leo tries to lift it, but Festus weighs about six billion pounds. "Um . . . yeah. Hold on. I think – aha." He pushes another button. A handle flips up on the top, and wheels click out on the bottom. "Ta-da!" he announces. "The world's heaviest carry-on bag!"

"That's impossible," Jason says. "Something that big couldn't –"

"Stop!" Zethes orders. He and Cal both draw their swords and glare at Leo.

Leo raises his hands. "Okay ... what'd I do? Stay calm, guys. If it bothers you that much, I don't have to take the dragon as carry-on —"

"Who are you?" Zethes shoves the point of his sword against Leo's chest. "A child of the South Wind, spying on us?"

"What? No!" Leo says. "Son of Hephaestus. Friendly blacksmith, no harm to anyone!"

Cal growls. He puts his face up to Leo's, and he definitely isn't any prettier at point-blank, with his bruised eyes and bashed-in mouth. "Smell fire," he says. "Fire is bad."

Oh." Leo's heart races, "Yeah, well... my clothes are kind of singed, and I've been working with oil, and—"

"No!" Zethes pushes Leo back at sword point. "We can smell fire, demigod. We assumed it was from the creaky dragon, but now the dragon is a suitcase. And I still smell fire . . . on you."

If it hadn't been like three degrees in the penthouse, Leo probably would've started sweating. "Hey . . . look . . . I don't know —" He glanced at his friends desperately. "Guys, a little help?"

(Y/n) already has his pen back in her hand. She steps forward, his eyes on Zethes. "Look, there's been a mistake. Leo isn't a fire guy. Tell them, Leo. Tell them you're not a fire guy."

"Urn ..."

"Zethes?" Piper tries her dazzling smile again, though she looks a little too nervous and cold to pull it off. "We're all friends here. Put down your swords and let's talk."

"The girl is pretty," Zethes admits, "and of course she cannot help being attracted to my amazingness; but sadly, I cannot romance her at this time." He pokes his sword point farther into Leo's chest, and Leo can feel the frost spreading across his shirt, turning his skin numb.

He wishes he could reactivate Festus. He needs some backup. But it would've taken several minutes, even if he could reach the button, with two purple-winged crazy guys in his path.

"Destroy him now?" Cal asks his brother.

Zethes nods. "Sadly, I think —"

"No," (Y/n) insists. She sounds calm enough, but Leo figures she is about two seconds away from uncapping her pen and going into full gladiator mode. "Leo's just a son of Hephaestus. He's no threat. Piper here is a daughter of Aphrodite. Jason's the son of Zeus. I'm a daughter of Poesidon We're on a peaceful . . ."

(Y/n)'s voice falters, because both Boreads had suddenly turned on him.

"What did you say?" Zethes demands, looking at Jason. "You are the son of Zeus?"

"Urn . . . yeah," Jason says. "That's a good thing, right? My name is Jason."

Cal looks so surprised, he almost drops his sword. "Can't be Jason," he says. "Doesn't look the same."

Zethes steps forward and squints at Jason's face. "No, he is not our Jason. Our Jason was more stylish. Not as much as me — but stylish. Besides, our Jason died millennia ago."

"Wait," Jason says. "Your Jason . . . you mean the original Jason? The Golden Fleece guy?"

"Of course," Zethes says. "We were his crewmates aboard his ship, the Argo, in the old times, when we were mortal demigods. Then we accepted immortality to serve our father, so I could look this good for all time, and my silly brother could enjoy pizza and hockey."

"Hockey!" Cal agrees.

"But Jason — our Jason — he died a mortal death," Zethes says. "You can't be him."

"I'm not," Jason agrees.

"So, destroy?" Cal asks. Clearly the conversation is giving his two brain cells a serious workout.

"No," Zethes says regretfully. "If he is a son of Zeus, he could be the one we've been watching for."

"Watching for?" Leo asks. "But you mean like in a good way: you'll shower him with fabulous prizes? Or watching for like in a bad way: he's in trouble?"

A girl's voice says, "That depends on my father's will."

Leo looks up the staircase. His heart nearly stops. At the top stands a girl in a white silk dress. Her skin is unnaturally pale, the color of snow, but her hair is a lush mane of black, and her eyes were coffee brown. She focuses on Leo with no expression, no smile, no friendliness. But it doesn't matter. Leo is in love. She is the most dazzling girl he'd ever seen.

Then she looks at Jason, (Y/n), and Piper, and seems to understand the situation immediately. "Father will want to see the one called Jason," the girl says.

"Then it is him?" Zethes asks excitedly.

"We'll see," the girl says. "Zethes, bring our guests."

Leo grabs the handle of his bronze dragon suitcase. He isn't sure how he'd lug it up the stairs, but he has to get next to that girl and ask her some important questions — like her e-mail address and phone number.

Before he can take a step, she freezes him with a look. Not literally frozen, but she might as well have.

"Not you, Leo Valdez," she says.

In the back of his mind, Leo wonders how she knows his name; but mostly he is just concentrating on how crushed he felt.

"Why not?" He probably sounds like a whiny kindergartner, but he couldn't help it.

"You cannot be in the presence of my father," the girl says. "Fire and ice — it would not be wise."

"We're going together," Jason insists, putting his hand on Leo's shoulder, "or not at all."

The girl tilts her head, like she isn't used to people refusing her orders. "He will not be harmed, Jason Grace, unless you make trouble. Calais, keep Leo Valdez here. Guard him, but do not kill him."

Cal pouts. "Just a little?"

"No," the girl insists. "And take care of his interesting suitcase, until Father passes judgment."

Jason, (Y/n), and Piper look at Leo, their expressions asking him a silent question: How do you want to play this?

Leo feels a surge of gratitude. They are ready to fight for him. They wouldn't leave him alone with the hockey ox. Part of him wants to go for it, bust out his new tool belt and see what he could do, maybe even summon a fireball or two and warm this place up. But the Boread guys scare him. And that gorgeous girl scares him more, even if he still wants her number.

"It's fine, guys," he says. "No sense causing trouble if we don't have to. You go ahead."

"Listen to your friend," the pale girl says. "Leo Valdez will be perfectly safe. I wish I could say the same for you, son of Zeus. Now come, King Boreas is waiting."

Word Count: 6249 words

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