#fighting fro my life over here

[choccymilllk]

small techno because im anxious 👍👍

[cinnamolore]

if lorelune disappears in the next while, we had a good run ✌🏻💕

[er-osion]

Stay (in my life)

pairing: Jason Todd x gn!Reader

summary: Red Hood comes back to your apartment for a patch job again, but his injuries are a bit more severe this time so he accepts your offer to stay over

word count: 4.3k

warnings: blood, fairly detailed descriptions of injuries, fluff

author’s note: sorry this one’s a little long ya’ll, i got a bit carried away. hope you guys enjoy. you can read part one here.

⋄∘∗⋅⋆≁≁⋆⋅∗∘⋄

“Holy shit, you look terrible!” You gasp as you take in Red Hood’s battered form as he clumsily steps over to your couch.

“Thanks, you look great too.” Hood grits out in reply as he slumps into the cushions. You hurry to grab your med kit and rush over beside him.

“You’re getting blood all over my couch, Hood.”

“Don’t worry, sweetheart, I’m really good at getting stains out.”

“I hope you’re also really good at surviving what appears to be multiple stab wounds and severe burns.”

“You’d laugh at that statement if you knew my background.”

“We’re gonna have to move this to the bathroom, I need better lighting and access to the sink.”

“I just sat down.” Hood exasperated.

“You know it’s not far.” You rolled your eyes at his words but couldn’t fight the rising anxiety at his condition. On instinct, you got up and held out your hand for him to take. Hood moved his head to look at your hand.

“Considering my size and condition, I don’t think you’re gonna be much help getting me off this couch by yourself.” He noted, unimpressed.

You narrowed your eyes at him but kept your hand where it was, “It’s more the sentiment. However, in your condition you might very well need all the help you can get walking the short distance to my bathroom.” Hood paused but set his gloved hand in yours. It was dirty with dust and what you assumed was blood and gripped tightly, probably more so than he realized, but you paid no mind with your thoughts wrapped up in Hood’s less than favorable state. The vigilante got up slowly from your couch and he wobbled to and fro once he was on his feet. The two of you started to move carefully to your bathroom, which was just down the hall, but Hood seemed to be more injured than you initially thought because his knees suddenly became weak and you both had to make a combined effort to catch him.

“Did you hit your head tonight?” You ask as Hood tried to restabilize himself.

“You asking if I have a concussion?” Hood responded.

“That’s exactly what I’m asking, yes.”

“It’s highly probable. I was thrown against a cement wall pretty hard.” Hood moved and wrapped one of his large arms around your shoulder for more support, immediately putting more of his weight onto you. The man was heavy beyond belief, but he did his best not to pile his muscle mass on top of you. The arm around your shoulders was secure and his hand gripped the fabric of your t-shirt tightly. Hood groaned while he settled more into you and you began walking again. Despite your rampant mind, your heart hammered in your chest at the contact and you felt the skin touching his arm dance. By some miracle, the two of you made it to your bathroom, and you did your best to help Red Hood down onto the floor in front of your bathtub.

“Can you just start listing off all your possible injuries while I get all my supplies out?” You asked Hood while you opened the first aid kit. Hood complied, and started listing off all the places he suspected was injured during his patrol tonight. You noticed, though, that his words sometimes got slurred and his sentences kept drifting off —in other words, he didn’t seem all there. “Are you sure you don’t have a concussion?” You probed.

“Told you, it’s very possible. What do you think, doc?” Hood shot back.

“In all honesty, I suspect you have a concussion. Maybe not a severe one, but a concussion is still bad no matter the level. How does your head feel, where it got hit?”

“It hurts.”

“No shit Sherlock, but I was hoping for a more detailed answer.”

“I guess it’s kind of a dull pain? Not like a migraine, but it also hurts in my neck and back of the head.”

“Okay, I think we need to deal with your head first.” You stopped when you realized the implications of your words. You’d need his helmet off to examine his head for any open wounds, you’d never seen Red Hood with his helmet off. Hood seemed to realize this at the same time since you saw him tense suddenly. Neither of you moved or said anything for a couple seconds, trying to figure out how to proceed. You quickly tried to remedy the awkwardness, “Look, I know I’m not supposed to see your face, I’m just concerned about your head but the last thing I want to do right now is push your boundaries, so if taking off the helmet is a no-go we’ll figure something else out.”

Red Hood shook his head, “No, you’re right, as usual. I trust you won’t go mouthing off about what the Red Hood’s face looks like.” He teased as he moved his hand up toward his helmet. You heard a clicking noise and a quiet hiss and felt your body still with anticipation. Hood slowly removed the helmet and you saw him peel off a domino mask underneath.

When his face was bare and uncovered in front of you, you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding. He’s beautiful. Red Hood was the most gorgeous man you’d ever seen. His eyes a mystifying swirl of green and blue, dim with exhaustion but there was still this inexplicable unnatural glow to them. His hair —while slightly matted from the helmet— looked deliciously soft, the color of the night sky with a bold white streak at the front. There was a long thin scar connecting one of his eyebrows to his pale pink lips. You were speechless as you took in Hood’s face, trying to wrap your head around how someone could look that goddamn beautiful. It really wasn’t fair. Your heart was racing out of your chest and you were having trouble maintaining a steady breath while you gazed at his features. Red Hood noticed your stare and shifted a little uncomfortably under your gaze, his gemstone eyes gluing themselves to the ground.

“You gonna stare at my face all night, or are you gonna fix me up?” His voice snapped you back to reality.

“Right right, sorry. I just… wasn’t expecting to finally learn what you looked like tonight… got caught up in the surprise I guess.” You tried to cover your embarrassment and scooched closer so you could examine his head. You looked around and felt very gently for any bumps or wounds. “Hood, you’re bleeding at the back of your head.” The worry in your voice was prominent.

“That would help explain the dizziness.”

Your lips pulled into a line and you started to clean his head wound as carefully as you could, and then wrapped it gently with a bandage. You then made the vigilante promise not to fall asleep on you while you worked on the rest of his injuries. The rest of his body made the head injury look like a splinter. Multiple abrasions were littered across his torso, the molested skin was red with blood and irritation. You could see small bits of debris lodged in the surface of his cuts and abdomen. The slashes on his arms were in a similar state. As if the knife assaults weren’t enough, spots of his body were marred with blistering burns the color of bright red and white. Your heart stung at the obvious pain your hero must be in. No one deserved this, especially not Hood. Your eyebrows furrowed deeper with concern and your frown carved further into your face.

You were startled out of your thoughts when a thumb brushed between your eyebrows, forcing the furrow to even out. You blinked, and shot your gaze up to the owner of the hand. Hood was looking at you with green eyes that were clouded with emotions you couldn’t pinpoint. He had been frowning, but when you locked eyes, the edge of his lips quirked upward ever so slightly. “Keep that face up and you’ll get wrinkles before you’re thirty.” He teased as his thumb once again brushed between your brows, to further his point.

You huffed and shook your head slightly, but not too much to force his hand off of your face. “Keep coming here on the brink of death at 2 am and I definitely will.” You fired back with the ghost of a smirk. Neither of you felt the need to say anything more, Hood’s hand lingered at the top of your head for a brief moment before he retracted it back to his side. You instantly missed the contact. But, you turned your attention back to the task at hand and began caring for Hood’s various other injuries. You used tweezers to fish out the pebbles that had burrowed into his skin and then cleaned the subsequent areas with water and your saline solution. You looked at each cut to determine if it needed stitches or not. For the ones that did, you warned Hood of your plans each time and made extra careful work of numbing the areas before stitching his wounds neatly and efficiently.

Jason watched you in a daze. He could never get over how well you handled everything. Even though he knew you were worried and filled with anxiety, you worked calmly and with composure. You were focused and didn’t let your fears rule your movements, something he greatly appreciated as the one with the injuries. Jason hadn’t planned for any of this to happen. He hadn’t planned for tonight’s ambush to go so wrong, he hadn’t planned to hobble into your apartment nearly blind with pain and dizziness, and he certainly hadn’t planned to take both of his masks off in front of you. Sure, the two of you had been getting closer as of late. After your offer to host him even on nights he wasn’t injured, Jason had been showing up to your apartment a couple nights out of the week to make dinner and watch tv with you. In the past few weeks, Jason had been relishing in the change in your dynamic. Just existing in the same space as you put Jason’s head into a flurry, but in the most exciting way. The best part of his day has been visiting you these last few weeks. And of course, each time he’s entered your place he’s thought about removing the helmet and allowing you to get closer to him in a way he hasn’t let anyone in years. But each time, he’s stopped himself in fear. Fear of what exactly? Fear of putting you in danger, fear of scaring you, fear of disappointing you. Jason Tood would not be able to handle it if any of those things occurred. But there’s no time like the present, as they say. At least you didn’t flinch when you saw him. He couldn’t exactly figure out what you were thinking (whether it was positive or negative) but it wasn’t disgust he saw on your face, so a win is a win.

The black-haired man is suddenly overtaken with words and spits out without realizing, “I’m Jason, by the way.”

You freeze and look up at him questioningly. “I’m sorry?”

“My name, it’s Jason.”

“Oh! Okay, Jason…” You test the weight of his name on your tongue, “Jason, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” You conclude with a genuine smile.

Jason’s entire stomach has just done at least 20 flips. His heart is beating so hard and loud in his chest he hopes you don’t hear it. The man never knew a person could say his name so sweetly. He never knew his name could be uttered without any hint of malice by someone outside of his family. Your pronunciation of his name is echoing in his mind like bells to a dizzying effect. He’s been a fool. He’s been such an idiot. How could he let fear prevent him from lifting his helmet and telling you his name, when he could’ve been hearing the beautiful way you say it all this time? Jason realizes he’s left you verbally hanging for a good minute just staring, so he clears his throat and adverts his eyes. “The pleasure is all mine.” When Jason looks back at you, he sees your smile is still plastered on your face and it gives him a strange sense of pride.

“I want you to know though, I know the mask was probably a lot tonight. I don’t want to force you to say or give up anything for my sake, I’m the one treating you. I’m so glad you trust me enough with your face and name, but I don’t want you to think I need it to help you, Jason. I’d fix you up even if you came in here one day as a bat-Frankenstein.” You’re worried you might’ve pushed him too far tonight. You don’t want Ho—Jason, to think you’re only out to discover his secret identity. You want him to understand that you’d care for him no matter the circumstances, whether you knew his face and name or not.

All at once, Jason felt his throat close up and tears brimming his eyes. Do you know what your words mean to him? Do you know how instantly you make him feel loved? Jason is so certain he is undeserving of your kindness and understanding, but here you are giving it to him freely. Will you ever understand the effect you have on him? How you heal pieces of his soul he thought long shattered. Jason’s full, pink lips quiver into a small smile. A smile of profound gratitude, appreciation, and sadness.

“Angel, it’s long overdue. You’re right on one thing though, I do trust you. I trust you far more than my colleagues would probably advise, but I do so anyway because I can’t do anything else. I keep invading your life in sharp broken pieces and asking you to pick me up off the floor, even at risk of hurting yourself. Yet, you do it each time with a grace Shakespeare wishes he could write about. The fact I want you to understand is that; if I didn’t want you to see my face or know my name, you wouldn’t. End of story. But that’s not the case, so it isn’t the end of the story. You’re not pushing me. And to know that you’d fix me up even if I did end up a bat-Frankenstein, is some of the most relieving news I’ve had all month.” Jason had to end his monologue with a small tease, worried his vulnerability would be too obvious without it. You listen to his words with so much intent you’ve forgotten the rest of the world. An invisible hand is squeezing your heart to the point it hurts. You can only take shallow breaths and you feel as though you might tear up.

“Well then, let’s finish fixing you up.” Your words come out barely a whisper and you go back to tending to his wounds. But neither of you can ignore the change in the air. The swift shift into a heavy lull that keeps a smile on both of your faces. You realize you’ll be done treating him soon and a wave of panic rises in you. He can’t leave now, not after everything we just left unsaid. But he leaves every time I finish taking care of him, without wasting a second. Then, an idea comes to mind. One you’ve conjured up multiple times in the past but never really entertained because of its unlikeliness to occur. It’s a risk, for sure. It’s very possible you mess it up and ruin the evening, but things have gone smoothly thus far and the success has given you a boost in confidence. Plus, you are still majorly concerned for his health, so you brave the question once you’ve completed the last bandage.

“I’m done wrapping your injuries, but that in no way means you’re recovered. I know you’re probably anxious to get back to your safe house or whatever, but you’re a severe liability in your condition.”

“So what do you suggest?” Jason asks with a skeptically raised eyebrow.

“…Um well, I was going to offer —and it’s perfectly acceptable if you say no— but I was going to offer you stay over here for the night, to have somewhere to lie down without having to brave Gotham at night with a concussion and several broken ribs.” You refused to meet Jason’s eyes as you offered him to stay the night, so you missed how they widened in surprise and then lit with anticipation.

“Yeah that— um, I—” Jason coughed awkwardly, something you’ve never seen him do but find endearing, “I mean yeah, that’s probably a good idea. Not sure I could make it a block without collapsing. But you uh— you sure you don’t mind?” Jason’s voice softens in volume at the end of his query.

“I wouldn’t be offering if I did.”

“Fair point.” You smiled at his acceptance of your invitation, secretly giddy at the idea of him spending the night. “But um, I don’t really have anything for you to change into.”

“Understandable. I have my compression shorts on though so I’ll be fine.” Jason assures you and you nod your head. You then help him up off of the bathroom floor. Jason once again lays his arm around your shoulders for support and your stomach twists into knots. The two of you say nothing as you move toward your bedroom. Jason helps open the door with his free arm so you can shimmy your two bodies through the opening. Jason suddenly feels very awkward and misplaced inside. He’s never seen your room before, and to do so now feels so intimate it makes him light headed. This is the most personal space in your entire apartment and it is just now striking Jason that this is where he’ll be sleeping since you don’t have a guest room. Too lost in his racing thoughts, the vigilante doesn’t notice you’ve helped him to sit down on the edge of your bed. You reluctantly pull away from his grip around your shoulders to go turn on your bedside lamp, immediately feeling the absence of his body heat. Jason is pulled back into reality at the loss of contact and is hit with the need to say something but he searches for words with no avail.

It’s you who breaks the silence in a quiet but firm voice, instinctively not wanting to ruin the quiet air of the room. “You can sleep in here tonight. I’ll be in the living room if you need anything. If you get thirsty or hungry please help yourself to anything in my kitchen. The bedroom door locks too, just in case that’d make you more comfortable. Like I said though, if you need anything just come grab me, I’ll be on the couch.” You turn to leave him in privacy, but Jason quickly speaks up.

“You’re gonna sleep on the couch?” He asks incredulously.

“Well that is the only other option.” You affirmed with a raised eyebrow.

“No no no. It’s your house, you can sleep in your bed. I’ll take the couch.” Jason started to get up, but you could see him straining with each movement. You rushed over and gently but forcefully pushed him to sit back on the bed.

“Yeah, no. You are the one who’s severely injured, I’m not letting you sleep on a couch in your state. I really don’t mind anyways, it’s just one night.”

“Well I refuse to make you sleep on a couch in your own home, you already sacrifice enough just letting me in here.” You were about to protest his use of the word ‘sacrifice’ before Jason continued, with a suggestion that made you still. “We could… we could share the bed? I mean— it’s big enough for two people and we’re both apparently too stubborn to let the other one sleep in the living room.” Jason’s lake green eyes scanned your face for any sign of disgust or hesitation, his palms felt sweaty and he suddenly felt like an idiot for even suggesting such a thing.

You were frozen, the cogs turning in your head at the implications of his offer. Your heart was racing. The two of you sleep in the same bed? You had just learned his name, and now you two would be sharing a bed? You tried to stop yourself from feeling so excited at the idea. Jason took your silence for uncertainty and continued blabbering, “We’re both adults, right? I don’t mean anything by it, I just— I don’t want you getting a bad night's sleep on your couch, and your stubborn ass clearly won’t let me sleep anywhere that isn’t a real bed so… I don’t know, maybe it was a dumb suggestion. You can forget about it, I’ll take the couch—”

You interrupted him with a burst, shaking your hands in front of you to keep Jason from getting up. “Oh, no no no. It’s fine, it's fine. Really, it’s cool. We can— we can share the bed I don’t mind. It’s a smart idea. Just, ya know, be careful with your stitches and bandages. I’d hate for you to worsen any injuries in your sleep.” You tried to sound calm and collected, but really you were shaking with excitement and nerves. Jason just nodded slowly, still looking a little unsure at your agreement, but he moved to step out of his armor anyway.

You walked over to your side of the bed, and started fiddling with random nick nacks on your nightstand to try and appear busy while Jason got undressed behind you. Lord almighty, it was taking every ounce of your strength not to look behind you and oogle at what you knew were rippling muscles. “Focus, gotta get through this night without making a fool of yourself.” You thought as you felt the bed dip on the other side, signaling Jason was ready to sleep.

With that, you turned the lamp off and slipped underneath the covers. Jason copied you wordlessly and you both laid in the dark, staring at the ceiling in silence. The air was so thick with tension it was near suffocating, but the two of you were too scared to speak and break the spell of the night. You unconsciously let out a little sigh and turned on your side so your back was facing Jason. You closed your eyes to try and force yourself to sleep, but your mind was hyper vigilant at this point. You could feel the bed dipping to accommodate Jason’s gigantic form on the other side. You weren’t used to sharing this space with anyone, and the fact that you could feel his breath through the mattress had your mind in a frenzy. You were fighting every fiber of your being that was telling you —no, begging you to move closer to the man beside you.

Jason was pleading with the universe in hopes that you couldn’t hear how his heart was thundering in his chest. For someone who’s lying down, his breathing sure is quick. Jason thought this would be enough. Just having you near by, occupying the same space, he thought that’d be enough to satisfy his urge to be near you. But for some goddamn reason, it’s making it worse. How can you be so close yet so far? How much closer can he get before he crosses a line? Jason blames his exhaustion for his next move.

Out of nowhere, you feel something heavy curl around your waist. Your eyes pop open in surprise, and you have to force your body to be still. Jason uses the arm draped across your middle to pull you closer to him. Your back presses against his solid chest and you forget what it was ever like to be cold. You can feel warmth seeping into your skin from every point of contact between the two of you. You can feel each breath Jason takes pushing into your back and you can feel the speeding rhythm of his heart, which you’re sure is close to the speed of your own. Your lips have curled into a smile and you’re fighting off a sigh of contentment.

“Is—is this okay?” Jason’s question comes out in an unsure whisper. If you hadn’t been so close you wouldn’t have heard him.

“Yeah, this is okay.” You reassure at an equal volume, worried that being any louder would shatter the moment. Your smile has evolved into a full on grin.

“Okay.” Jason mutters and then presses his head into the curve of your neck. His muscular arm tightens around your waist and his hand grips your shirt gently. You subconsciously shuffle further into him, though, you didn’t think there was anyway you could physically get any closer. Still, any space left between the two of you was eliminated. Your two breaths became one as your heartbeats synced up. You could feel Jason’s warm breath against your neck and it sent shivers down your spine. Jason felt so warm and happy, here with you in his arms. Holding you felt like a reward he didn’t deserve. He only hopes he’ll be able to do this again…and again, and again, and again.

You’ve never felt so safe as you do in Jason’s arms. It’s almost euphoric, being like this with him. You never want this moment to end, but the warmth of Jason’s embrace is quickly dragging you under the spell of sleep. You hope you wake up with him in the morning, you hope this isn’t a dream. You two have probably crossed some sort of line tonight, not that either of you care right now. The unclear nature of your relationship with the vigilante is something for you to wrestle with in the morning. For now, you’ll fall asleep wrapped in Jason’s arms, with the happy thought that he’ll surely be coming back to do this again.

[fanaticsnail]

hi sis can you write me a sanji fic pleaseeeeeee

One hurt/comfort Sanji fic here for you, Smol-Snail.

Limits

Masterlist Here

Word Count: 2,500+

Synopsis: Baratie has been overbooked, and the tension in the kitchen has been overwhelming. Being a hard-working kitchen hand, you have been covering far too many shifts. Sensing the overwhelm, your coworker attempts to aid you through your emotions.

Themes: Sanji x gn!reader, hurt/comfort, kitchen slang, eating food, minor swearing, fluff, angst, domesticity, hidden feelings, almost kisses, playful banter, nicknames.

Notes: Spoiling my sister usually includes Mihawk or Garp, but I am absolutely loving the change. Thanks for the ask, sis! Hope you like it. Also, gosh it's good to be back in Baratie again.

The crackle of water hitting a pan of hot oil popped and simmered, a string of curses and yells following the large rukkus. Voices overlapping, music blaring, orders expediting, and the clangs of silverware shuddering with ceramics in water continued to mute their tones in the air surrounding the lively kitchen of Baratie.

It had been a mean shift tonight. The restaurant was overbooked, over packed, and overwhelmed. Guests on the waiting list were made to wait longer than they had anticipated, adding to tempers flaring and temperaments turning foul on all sides. The front of house were begging with the back of house, the back of house pleading with the front of house. Chef Zeff had even jumped on the line, cooking alongside the lot of you to fight against the rush. The thump of his peg leg hitting the linoleum swelled within the serenade of the lively kitchen, the chorus finally rising without any indication of an interlude.

“Carne, 'hot behind', damn it!” Zeff growled angrily while standing to full stature. Carne was holding a tray of simmering desserts at chest height behind him while shifting from one surface to the other. “Communicate, kitchen. Ya’ hear?”

“Oui chef!” The kitchen all repeated the phrase like a prayer on their tongues to their hierarchical clergyman.

“Ca Marche-!”

“Sharps-!”

“Plate up-!”

“Push-!”

“To the pass-!”

“Through-!”

Sanji stalked through the rows up until the pass, pacing two and fro while jumping in to aid all those that needed support. Garnishing mains, whipping cream for desserts, assorting steel bowls of oils and accompaniments to coincide with breads and greens: Sanji did it all. Each time he stepped in to aid in the dance of the kitchen, his eyes fell to your frame to mentally check in.

Eyes down, shoulders hunched, rubber gloves thrust up to your elbows, you ensured the kitchen remained functional with the fluctuation of crockery, cutlery and dishes for truly impeccable service. The kitchen-hand, or 'Dish Pig', was the backbone to a functional restaurant, the mental wellbeing of the house truly on the shoulders of that individual.

How could a chef create masterpieces without a canvas? How could guests in the dining hall consume their delectable arrangements without the means to raise each bite to their lips? The kitchen-hand ensured all was possible, and the chefs barely paid you any heed while you slaved away to grant them relief in their supplies.

You attempted to hone in on your craft, using your fingernails beneath the rubber gloves to chip at caramelized and caked scorches on iron pots like a scourer. Breaths heavy and labored, you shifted everything from your focus asside from one thing and one thing only:

Keep the kitchen clean.

Bubbles and suds consumed your senses, your hair sticking to your forehead in heavy clumps of sweat and soap. Your nostrils flared with the burn of eucalyptus, lemon and menthol. Working a fortnight of splits and doubles to cover for your colleagues had finally taken its toll on you, and stressors in your personal life added to the tension in your bones. The loss on your own mentality began to slip into a panic as another wave of silverware made their way to your arm side.

The mention of, “‘Ere ye’ go, dish pig. Clean up,” barely phased you, regardless to the usual playful temperament you displayed. You didn't even crack the smile you usually had on your face, your permanent exhaustion falling in the emotionless and dead-stare you displayed down at the dish rack.

The kitchen has began to pack down. Each element was extinguished, and stock was taken alongside a final tally. The chefs had removed their aprons, cravats and hats and began making their way towards the bar for their knockoffs. Your own drink would have to wait, the pile never reducing no matter how hard you had worked.

For each plate you cleared and cleaned, four more would somehow find their way to your hands. Each pot would have a lid to match, each pan would have an array of spatula, tongs, and forks to pair with. The chefs used the tools of their artistry with reckless abandon, and it was now you who was paying the price for their carelessness.

“A'ight, beers? That what we're drinkin'?” Patty clapped his hands and rubbed them enthusiastically together. Carne barked out a long string of laughter, allowing himself to succumb to the relief that came from a grueling shift while he clapped his hand over Patty’s bicep.

“I'm keen on one of them steins we just got in,” he admitted, squeezing lightly before looking to Zeff, “Is that on the menu for knock offs, chef?”

“Only is if you save two for me, you prick,” Zeff stated affectionately, “Give us a pale or an amber, I'll be in my office takin’ a damn breath. What about you, little eggplant? What are you drinkin’ tonight?”

Sanji hadn't spoken a word since he hung up his apron. He had been keeping an eye on you throughout your shift, feeling the tension waft in your aura the longer you silently chipped away at your monotonous task.

“I'm gonna have a cigarette,” he nodded to the head chef without moving his eyes away from you. “Then I think I'll sample that new amaretto rum you got in.” Sanji moved to Zeff’s side, casually glancing back at you while lowering his tone to the head chef, “But first, I'm gonna stay here a while. Leave inventory to me, and I'll take care of it, old man.”

Zeff noticed the drop in Sanji’s usual cadence and finally took notice to the quiver in your shoulders. With a curt nod, Zeff turned to both Patty and Carne and spoke to them with a simple scowl that meant: ‘Get out of the kitchen, now’. The two chefs quickly looked between Zeff and Sanji, then to the source of the noise continuing to fall from the underappreciated corner of the kitchen. With a nod of their own, they silently excused themselves from the kitchen with Zeff trailing behind them.

Where Sanji would've placed an unlit cigarette between his teeth and stalked out behind them, he would never do that without you. Both of you were similar in ages, and the rapport and camaraderie had always been a highlight to his kitchen shifts. The two of you were more than coworkers, more than simple friends, and you both lived and breathed Baratie in your own ways. You both loved that place, thrived on the chaotic energy working the line, and adored spending time in the dark before the next shift would begin.

The only difference between you is Sanji had been working his usual shifts, and you had been overworked far beyond your natural capacity lately. You were running low on mental energy, and you were taking it out on the dishes you were cleaning.

Wiping, scrubbing, clawing, patting, drying, prying, stacking, and placing away in their delegated areas: you had not spoken a word for the whole shift. Nothing more than a soft, shaky breath expelling from an otherwise vacant expression, nobody would know if anything was occurring within the battle of your mind.

But Sanji did.

Unhooking his apron and rolling up the sleeves of his uniform jacket, he placed it over his neck and slowly moved over to work silently in an unoccupied station. Several containers of various raw ingredients were hastily removed from their spots. Pots, water, flours, sugars, utensils and plates were all set up by his skilled hands: making something of your youth that he knew would bring you comfort.

Rolling glutinous rice flour into small balls with regular flour and water, he stuffed them full of purple adzuki mix, hazelnut white chocolate, and yuzu-honey dew custard. Placing the small balls in a steamer, he set a mental timer to check on them after a few minutes. Not his usual method to make dango, but he wanted to experiment for you.

He knew better than to disturb you when you were like this, and he allowed you to work out whatever was brewing in your mind on the dishes you were cleaning. He looked to the bowls and dishes he had just made in crafting you something delectable and grimaced.

‘All of those dishes just to make a simple dessert,’ he mentally scolded himself, ‘And that's just one piece of the kitchen. You're taking care of everyone’s dishes here, not just the kitchen’s.’ He gently lifted the lid of the bamboo steamer to gauge the consistency of the circular treats, nodding to himself once he viewed the squishy exterior.

Plating up the dish by patting them dry and rolling them in rice flour, he softly approached you with the bowl of rainbow-colored treats.

You were in your own head, your thoughts swirling in a tight coil threatening to snap. This shift had been enough to break a seasoned kitchen hand, and you had endured it all with a silent professionalism. Just when you were about to begin the next wave of remaining dishes, you turned and met your eyes with a plate of rainbow and sunshine.

“Hands, chef. You need to eat something,” Sanji softly spoke, his usual smirk and cocky attitude fleeing his face. The replacement of his usual demeanor was something you hadn't experienced with him. His eyes were rounded, his lips softly pouring, his head was lowered and seeking out your gaze with his own, and his empathy was worn with each subtlety.

All in one fluid motion, your head hung low and your glove-covered hands shrouded your eyes from his gaze. At the same motion, Sanji placed the bowl down beside you and hastily drew you into an encumbering embrace. It had finally been too much for you, and this was the first breakdown you had ever had regarding a shift. Heavy sobs were muffled by your rubber-covered palms while Sanji cradled you in his arms.

“Hold onto me, love,” Sanji softly whispered into your ear. You immediately unburied your face within your palms and nuzzled into the blonde man’s neck, arms wrapping beneath his shoulders and clinging to him like a rope offered from a cliff’s edge. “There you go. Good job. Just hold on, okay?”

“S-Sanji?” you attempted to whimper out, only being met with a soft shush and a tighter hold on your form. He rose one arm up to remove your dark chef’s cap from your head and carded his hands over your scalp in a soft brush.

“You've been pushing too many doubles, and saying ‘yes’ a whole lot lately,” he gently soothed you, “And while I love this place as much as you and the old man, I know my limits.” He gently lifted his head to gaze down to where your head was nestled in his collar, “You just hit yours, didn't you?”

“First time since I started,” you whispered into his shirt, “I didn't think I had one ‘til now, Ji.” Your admission alongside his arms holding you firmly dried up your tears after the heavy release.

“Course you do. We all do,” his soft baritone gently coaxed you. You slowly raised your eyes to meet his. His smile was like sunshine after a storm, warmth following a heavy winter, hope where hopelessness was found mere minutes prior, and a sanctuary found after a season of war.

When he looked at you, you felt like the most important person in the world. Time stood still in that moment, eyes darting between one another's and gently focussing briefly on the other’s lips. The close proximity you found yourself in was not unfamiliar to you, but this emotion swelling was far greater than you had anticipated. Sanji made to lean towards you, halting mid-way and second guessing himself from giving you the kiss he truly wanted. Instead, he pressed his forehead to yours in a gentle seal of friendship.

Noses flush with one another’s, you both closed your eyes and dwelled in the silence for a moment. Nothing else was heard: no yells in the kitchen, no music from the dining room, no yells from your coworkers, and no demands from the patrons in the hall. All that was heard was the small thump of your heartbeat in your ears, and your shared breaths gently soothing one another in unison.

“I made you dango,” Sanji uttered softly, making no move to part from you.

“Thank you, Ji,” you expressed your gratitude just as softly.

“And while you eat, I'll finish up on the dishes,” he scrunched his nose playfully, moving away from your head and slowly releasing you from his embrace, “Then we can go and have a knock off. I'll have one of the bar staff take your shift tomorrow- And before you interrupt-!”

Sanji knew you all too well, halting your interjection before you had an opportunity to speak it out with a harsh expression.

“-I know it's a 'double split'. That's a four person job, and I know exactly the four people to do it,” he finally withdrew his arms from your shoulders and soothed your upper arms with a firm caress. “Now, hand over those gloves. I made a right mess cooking you your sweets, and I'm going to see to it that it's spotless while you eat.”

You slowly removed your arms from his body, halting them briefly on his hips while you bowed your head in gratitude.

“Oui, chef,” you huffed out in a bid to add humor to the scenario. Releasing him from your grasp, you began to remove your rubber gloves and hang them over the steel railing beside the sink.

Sanji slid his hands from your shoulders, his right hand moving to gently tap your chin up with his index finger. Following his motions, you met your eyes with his once more, offering him a small smile after the exhaustion of emotional release.

“‘Oui Chef’?” he gently teased you, his eyes playfully narrowing in his jest, “Hush, you. Now go eat your dango and tell me what you like about it. We got sweet red bean, white chocolate hazelnut, and citrus-melon mouse in the centers.”

Your eyes bloomed with a wave of gratitude, Sanji’s understanding washing from his aura and consuming you within his single glance. The only thing to break your joint hypnosis with the scent of the sweetness atop the bench, you bobbed your head a final time to your coworker and dearest friend.

You moved to sit by the sink on a wooden stool, plonking down and resting your worn feet with the plate sat in your lap. Head slumping on the steel bench, you close your eyes and raise one of the squishy spheres to your lips.

Placing the entire blob into your mouth, the center burst on impact of the clamp of your teeth. The flavors erupted over your palate, your emotions once again being forced to the surface at his thoughtfulness. Each tartness was compensated by the sweetness it needed, the sours holding a balance of soft umami to prolong the dance over your tongue.

Watching from the corner of his eye while elbows deep in the sink, Sanji smiled at the encounter, truly pleased that he could offer you that sense of comfort after a grueling few weeks. Each bite you took of his mastery had his heart swell. Knowing he could do this for you, take a piece of that burden away from you and give you some joy to focus on: that was all he ever craved in return from you.

Tag list: @mfreedomstuff @daydreamer-in-training @since-im-already-here @gingernut1314 @writingmysanity @i-am-vita @indydonuts @feral-artistry @the-light-of-star @empirenowmp3 @racfoam @sunflowersatori @carrotsunshine @skullfacedlady @jintaka-hane @thenotsofantasticlifestory

[thebiggerbear]

"I hate you." "You have a weird way of showing that." - Alec McDowell Prompt Response

Summary: You're looking for a way to set yourself up and blend in after breaking out of Manticore. Having heard the rumors, you seek out Max for help. In doing so, you come across someone you had never thought you'd see again.

Pairing: Alec McDowell x Female!Reader; Alec McDowell x Female!Transgenic Reader

A/N: Prompt from @creativepromptsforwriting (#941). I have been in love with the world of Dark Angel and Alec ever since the show aired. To me, it's completely fascinating, and I really wish it had continued. (I was a big Malec fan back then btw; Lomax just wasn't my thing) There's so much to explore, especially with Max herself and how the transgenic community was going to move forward now that the public was aware of them. And of course, Joshua, OC, and Alec. Great stuff. Originally, I wasn't sure what scenario would best suit Alec based on this prompt line but I knew it would definitely be something that would apply to him. As far as It's A Wonderful Life, I was listening to the Christmas radio show they aired back in the 40's as I was outlining this one and the idea sort of came to life on its own. Hope this one's alright.

This is meant to take place mid-s2 and I did use events from the Berrisford Agenda episode (2x11) as inspiration for the beginning. 😉

Thanks to my beta @rieleatiel for her services. You rock, girl!

Warnings: implied violence; implied murder; mention of fatal injury; implied sex

Word Count: 8419

Taglist: @avada-kedavra-bitch-187

Alec Taglist: @heartlessdelusions; @nancymcl

Jensen Taglist: @samanddeaninatrenchcoat; @deansbbyx

This was recc'ed by @winchestergirl2 here.

"I hate you." "You have a weird way of showing that."

Soldier Boy version ✨ Beau version ✨ Dean version ✨ Jenny version ✨ Jason version ✨ Tom version ✨ CJ version ✨ Rachel version ✨ Anael version ✨ SDV Leah version

You made your way into the bike messenger shop, glancing around despite the busy, distracting din. Rumor had it that a transgenic named Max had a sweet hookup here, something a fellow transgenic like yourself could use, being on the run and all. You could get a job, make money, and more importantly: blend in; not to mention it would teach you the layout of the city, the ins and outs, and provide you with legal documentation to let you past checkpoints in case Manticore ever came looking. 

So far, you hadn’t spotted the dark brunette you had been told about, and you didn’t sense any of your kind here. While a few people either walked past you, giving you a once-over as they did or stood there staring, all of them appeared to be human. Everyone else was milling to and fro, and you wondered if perhaps you’d been given wrong information. It had happened before so you were used to it, but this one you had really been hoping would turn out to be true. You could use a lucky break.

A man was barking out orders to a group of messengers before they dispersed, and his eye landed on you once they did. “You need something, Missy-Miss?”

You assumed the crankpot was the boss so you carefully approached him. “Uh, yeah, I was looking for—”

You were interrupted by yells coming from your far left. Your head snapped in the direction of the sounds and your eyes widened at what you saw.

There was the transgenic X5-494 backed up against the lockers, holding his hands out in a ‘whoa’ manner and giving the women in front of him his most charming grin; by the looks of their faces, it wasn’t working. “Ladies, ladies. No need to fight.”

“You didn’t tell me you were already seeing Lena when you asked me out!” One woman seethed.

“He asked you out?” Another woman, who you assumed was Lena, demanded. “I bet it happened right after we slept together, didn’t it?”

“He slept with you?” A third woman blanched.

“Tell me you haven't been making the rounds through the entire company,” another woman scoffed in disgust.

You shook your head, watching the show. Typical 494. Even out here he was still getting himself into trouble. By the sounds of it, he more than deserved the wrath of the women he was currently faced with, but you were still taken aback by his sudden appearance. Just when you thought you’d never see him again…

Before you knew it, the older man you had been talking to made his way over. “Alright, break it up! Break it up!” He forced his way next to 494 and glared at the ladies. “Shouldn’t you be working? You want your paychecks? Packages need to be delivered on time. Get going.”

The women grumbled and began to disperse, glaring in both men’s direction. “You just wait until later, Alec! This isn’t over!” 494 gave them all a sheepish smile while the other man scowled. 

“Okay, okay! You’ve got deliveries to make. Packages don’t deliver themselves so let’s go, keep it moving!” 

By the time they had all left, 494’s smile dropped and he seemed to deflate, gratefully clapping the man’s shoulder. “Thanks. I think they were about to eat me alive,” he laughed.

“Not on my watch,” the other man promised. “How’re you feeling, champ? You okay?”

“Yeah, no, I’m good. Just, you know…” He gestured to where the women had disappeared and bugged his eyes before letting out a nervous chuckle.

“You should’ve let them take a swing at him,” a brunette woman suddenly threw at them as she approached her locker, which was near the two men. “It’s not like he didn’t deserve it.”

494 let out a huff. “Thanks, Max,” he mumbled.

That name caught your attention—so this was Max. It had surprised you to see 494 here of all places, but it made sense considering what X5-452 had set up here.

“Don’t be like that, Missy-Miss,” the older man warned the woman. “There’s no reason to have that kind of attitude.”

Max shook her head and discreetly rolled her eyes, zipping up her backpack. “So what have you got for me today, Normal?”

Normal held out two packages for her to take. “They need these by noon, not one second later.”

Max snatched the packages and nodded. 494 stepped closer to her. “I’ll come with you,” he insisted, still seeing some of the dirty looks he was receiving from girls coming to and fro. 

She made a face at him which clearly said that wasn’t going to happen, and before she could voice that, Normal cleared his throat. “Not a bad idea. You could show him the ropes on that side of town and keep him from the estrogen mob looking to burn him at the stake. He’s got that raw animal charisma working and it’s causing trouble.” This time you made your own face of disgust. And this guy’s name was Normal? Far from it.

“Whatever,” Max snapped and shoved a package into 494’s chest, hard. She turned and was about to leave when you stepped forward.

“Max?” You called.

Her eyes snapped towards you as did 494’s and Normal’s. “Yeah?” She asked, seeming unsure. 

You knew she was sensing who you really were just like you could sense her and 494 across the way, even if you hadn’t just been watching them. You ignored 494’s eyes widening at the sight of you and the sudden tension in his body, making your way closer. “I was wondering if we could have a word.”

Max’s brows furrowed and Normal glanced between you, holding up a finger. “No visitors at work, Miss. You know the rule: packages need to be there by noon. Make it quick.” He turned and walked away, completely uninterested in whatever conversation you two were about to have.

Max stepped over to you, studying you intently. “You know my name, but I don’t know yours. What do you want?”

494 was standing right next to her, his eyes never leaving you. The surprise was still evident in his expression along with something else you couldn’t quite put a name to.

You glanced around, making sure no one was paying attention to you, before turning and lifting your ponytail from your neck, letting her see the barcode tattoo you had. After a moment, you spun on your heel to find her appearing a little more receptive to what you had to say. “So, you got somewhere we can talk?”

She nodded and glanced over at 494 before inclining her head in a direction she expected you to follow her in. You obliged, your eyes briefly flickering to 494’s, before he followed both of you.

Once you were outside in a semi-private spot, Max turned to you, her arms crossed. “So, who are you really?”

“X5-498,” you answered. 

Max glanced over at 494 before addressing you once again. “How long have you been on the run?”

“Since you destroyed the base and helped 494 escape.” You nodded in his direction. Yeah, maybe you were still a little bitter about that. 494 looked like a deer caught in headlights.

“I didn’t help him do anything,” Max insisted, her nose scrunching up in what appeared to be repulsion at the very idea. 

494 ignored her and trained his gaze on you. “I thought you were dead.”

You smirked over at him and crossed your arms. “Sorry to disappoint.” You noticed his jaw tighten and his eyes narrow at the jab.

“You two know each other?” Max was looking between you but neither of you looked away from the other. 

“She was my breeding partner,” 494 informed her. 

Max’s eyes widened and turned on you. “Wait, what?”

“Yeah,” you agreed. “He wouldn’t have been my first choice, either.”

He snorted and the amused smirk you were more than familiar with began to appear on his face, yet he didn’t say a word. 

“Oh-kay. That’s not super weird or anything.” She turned to 494. “You had more than one breeding partner? Were you Manticore’s stud horse or something?” She looked grossed out at the thought.

494’s eyes briefly flickered over to her. “498 and I were paired off long before you got there.”

“But then, if you were already paired off, why were you paired off with me, too?” Your gaze snapped to Max who looked genuinely confused for a moment before realization hit her. “Oh, right. It was all part of your big plan to get me to trust you so I could accidentally kill Logan. Got it.”

494 shrugged unapologetically. “Pretty much.” He turned back to you. “Renfro gave me the mission and told me if I didn’t succeed, then that’d be it for me. I was already on thin ice with them. So, she assigned me to you, Max, and I did what I had to do.”

“And he left me to die,” you supplied, gracing her with your smirk. 

His jaw dropped before he closed his mouth and pressed his lips into a thin line. “I didn’t leave you there to die,” he protested. 

“Leaving me there to burn to death constitutes as leaving me to die,” you countered. He glared at you but you ignored it. You noticed Max’s eyes constantly moving between the two of you and you decided you’d get to the point of why you were here. “452, I’m here because word on the street is that you have a way of helping fellow transgenics like yourself.” You motioned towards 494. “I was hoping you might be able to help me as well.”

She looked taken aback. “I don’t have anything set up like that. As a matter of fact, Alec here only got the job because of Normal’s weird worship of him.” 494 gave her a smug smile which made her roll her eyes. “But as far as other transgenics go, I don’t really have anything in place to help like you’re thinking. Sorry.”

You nodded, figuring as much. You thought it had been unlikely but you had hoped anyway. All you could do now was remain on the run until you could find a place where you could seamlessly blend in. “Thank you for your time.”

“Just hold up a sec,” 494 entreated you, but you ignored him.

You turned to leave when Max’s voice stopped you. “Wait.” You glanced back and found her watching you, compassion twinkling in her eyes. “Maybe there’s something we can do.” She quickly glanced at 494 who was giving her a look. Max rolled her eyes at him but lifted her chin when addressing you. “I wouldn’t put you with this one because it sounds like you’ve been punished enough already.”

494 shot her a glare to which she only smirked. You couldn’t help but smile yourself; perhaps you would like this 452 after all. 

“But I think I have an idea of where you can stay. It’s temporary and you’d have a roommate, but we can see about getting you a job and getting you set up properly. Logan can help, too, with papers. If you’re serious and you plan to stay, that is.”

494 watched you intently. You thought it over for a moment. This proposal was better than anything you had going for you right now. Hell, you would have even stuck yourself with 494 again if it meant you’d have a place to sleep and something to eat, safe from Manticore for a while. You gave Max a nod. “Thank you.” To your surprise, 494 seemed to relax a bit at your response.

She smiled and turned, indicating you should follow. “You’ll be with Joshua for the time being. He’s pretty easy to get along with,” she assured you, her tone softening a bit. You could tell she was fond of the guy she was mentioning.

“Joshua?” You questioned, looking from her to 494.

494 stayed in step with you as you all made your way out onto the street. He shot you a smile as Max retrieved her bike. “You like dogs?”

Joshua did indeed turn out to be a decent roommate. He was kind and thoughtful and actually a little funny. Truthfully, you hadn’t been prepared to find a dogman as your new temporary roommate, but once you found out about his history, you found yourself feeling compassion for his situation. You were glad he had managed to escape the destruction of the base that night. 

Max kept her word and set you up with a job as a bike messenger at Jam Pony (apparently a couple of the girls 494 had been involved with decided to up and quit for some strange reason), which gave you access to all of the legal documentation you’d need to get past certain checkpoints in the city. She’d introduced you to her friends Original Cyndi and Sketchy, who would also turn out to be your coworkers. Normal viewed you as another hooligan he was forced to pay for standing around and not doing your job just like the rest, though despite his warped assertions, you actually did get your work done. You ended up going on runs with 494 and Max to get to know the ins and outs of the job. Outside of work, you kept your distance unless your help was needed. Max and OC had invited you to Crash a couple of times, but you bowed out, especially when Sketch seemed a little too invested in your joining them. You also met Logan and Asha, neither of whom you cared for very much; still, they were important to your fellow transgenics and Logan was helping you, so you kept your thoughts to yourself. All in all, you were settling into life in Seattle and beginning to blend in. And you avoided 494 like the Plague despite his couple of attempts to approach you and strike up a conversation, so everything was going pretty swell. 

You had even found a new place you liked to escape to every now and then. You knew the Space Needle was also Max’s favorite spot—she had told you as much—but after a long day, you liked to get to the highest point and look out over the city you now were beginning to call home. 

It was one such peaceful night when 494 found you.

“Thought I’d find you here.” He carefully lowered himself down next to you.

You didn’t respond and instead focused on the feel of the cool breeze gently blowing through your hair.

“I’m glad you made it out,” he admitted.

You shot him a look before returning your attention to the city. 

“I am.” He rested his forearms on his knees and looked out towards the city skyline. “I know what we had wasn’t of our making, but it wasn’t all horrible, was it?”

You let his question hang in the air. No, it hadn’t been all horrible, but it was still a messed up situation you both had been thrust into. Based on what you’d learned about his sessions with Max, copulation hadn’t needed to happen due to the background plan. You and 494 weren’t so lucky after a while, just like every other pair of breeding partners in the facility. By the time Max was recaptured and brought to the base, Renfro and company were already starting to side-eye the two of you and wanted to know how you hadn’t gotten pregnant yet. Almost every other pairing had been successful or reassigned if they weren’t; you were arousing too much suspicion by your constant failure to report an impregnation despite your successful copulations. The truth was that you and 494 did what you could to prevent it from happening. You had no desire to add to the ranks of Manticore transgenics and neither did he, something you both had been on the same page about since the first night you’d been thrown into a cell together.

You hadn’t fooled yourselves. This wasn’t about love or any attraction you had for one another, nor was it even a fun roll in the sheets; you both would not have chosen each other if you’d had a say in any of it. This was all about science and genetics, and it was purely clinical. That didn’t mean that there weren’t a few moments here and there that you snatched for yourselves: a laugh here, a tender moment there, a camaraderie forged between you in flipping off the organization that had created you and controlled you since your first breaths. So no, it wasn’t all horrible.

Which is why you didn’t protest or move away when you felt him subtly shift a little closer to you. You nearly smiled at the action; 494 had always sought a connection between you, something that superseded the physical. You couldn’t count the amount of times after your sessions that you had both held onto each other: you still remembered how he would wrap his arms around you and pull you close, letting out a content sigh as you ran your fingers through his sweaty hair, scratching at his scalp in the way you knew he liked. And he would make sure every inch of him was still touching you on the uncomfortable cot suspended from the wall, before the guards were due to come back and retrieve him. How he would chatter away about different subjects, doing his best to engage you.

“I went back for you,” he murmured.

Surprise ran through you as you turned wide eyes on him. 

“Once they revealed the base’s location and I was able to get free, I went back for you.” He stared at you, swallowing compulsively. “But by the time I got there, it was too late. I thought you were gone.”

You could see the truth of what he was saying in his green eyes, but you refused to give in that easily. You huffed out a snort and turned back to the view. “More like you were hoping.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see him shaking his head. “I never wanted you gone.”

You ignored him and continued your ritual of observing the city, allowing silence to fall between you. Only when he slowly took your hand into his did you turn a glare on him and finally speak:  “I hate you, you realize that, right?”

“You have a weird way of showing that.” He nodded his head towards your intertwined fingers. 

You rolled your eyes but you didn’t pull away. “Don’t you have a harem to get back to? Or what’s her name…Asha? Now that you’re free to choose who you want to copulate with. You didn’t seem to have any issue finding willing partners before I showed up.”

This time, he was the one who snorted. “Just passing time.”

You finally did pull away, grimacing. “Ew.”

He let out a nervous-sounding laugh. “I just meant it’s all been casual. Nothing serious.”

You side-eyed him. “Good luck with that.” You got to your feet and were about to leave when he grabbed your hand to stop you, forcing you to look down at him.

“Y/N,” he murmured, using the name Max had picked out for you. It wasn’t your favorite, but you needed something to go on the paperwork for Jam Pony and the papers Logan was acquiring for you, so you figured it would do. Perhaps you’d even grow into it and it could be a decent identity for you.

“494?”

He shot you a glare. “Alec.”

Right. Max had named him, too. That was something he’d mentioned on one of the runs you, he, and Max had gone on. You had smirked at Max’s explanation of that choice while 494 had rolled his eyes.

“Okay then. Alec?” It felt weird to call him that yet at the same time…it felt like a good fit.

His thumb tenderly stroked against your skin and he watched you. “Just wanted to see how it sounded. Using our names instead.”

You nodded. You could understand that. All of this was new and…fragile in a way. Any moment you could be found, you could either be killed or worse — brought back to another base. However, from what you’d heard, the former was more likely to happen these days. Max had encouraged you to start thinking about what you wanted out of life, and so far, freedom was certainly at the top of your list. You might be free right now, but you weren’t really free, not with your captors still out there who viewed you as their property, to apprehend or destroy at will. You had a feeling that Alec knew that just as well as you did, no matter the optimistic picture Max tried to paint for Joshua or any other transgenics she might come across.

He tugged on your hand to urge you to sit back down next to him. You resisted for a moment but then decided to oblige. What did a few minutes more matter in the scheme of things? He snuck an arm around your shoulders and pulled you closer. Had it been anyone else, that arm would have been ripped from its socket by now. 

Alec gave you a small smile and leaned down to press a kiss to your hair, flooding you with memories of every time he’d done just that. Other memories made appearances, too: his sharing with you about his side hustle of trading things with guards for certain comforts, something he actually used on your behalf a few times; his laugh and kiss to your head when both of you had gotten a little too much into one copulating session, almost making the two of you forget to take your usual precautions; his promise of getting you both out of there together if you could hold out just a little longer; his expression when he told you that he thought Renfro had a mission for him that would keep him out of your barracks for the next few nights but that he’d do his best to see it through quickly and return; the last time you’d seen him when he’d exchanged a look with you across the yard before you and your unit were led away for more drills and testing, you thinking back to the worry you’d seen in his expression and since you didn’t know the cause, it created your own set of worries — 494 never let it show if he was ever worried or scared. 

You weren’t sure how to feel about any of this. Yes, you and Alec had history but it had been forced upon you. Although you had forged some sort of connection during it all, it didn't mean that either of you were looking to continue that or see where it went on the outside—especially now that you were able to choose for yourselves. Still, that connection hadn’t simply ceased to exist just because you wished it would… Especially not when he was trying his damndest to restore some piece of it, right here and right now.

He lowered his head to meet your eyes and you could feel something familiar inside your chest squeezing a little bit. You told yourself that it had to be heartburn from the chicken stew you’d eaten for dinner earlier, and not anything to do with him at all. “I’ve missed this,” he quietly admitted. “Just talking and being together. Didn’t you?”

You gave him a look of disbelief mixed with amusement. “I don’t really think we did all that much talking as I remember it.”

That cocky smirk of his was back. “True.” 

You rolled your eyes and he laughed. You enjoyed the familiar sound that caused more memories to wash over you. You would never admit it but the bond you’d shared had actually been the only good thing to sustain you when you were running after the explosion. You’d hoped that wherever he was, he had gotten away and was safe. You knew he hadn’t been in his barracks; you’d checked amidst the chaos. 

Thinking back to that night, you rested your head back against his shoulder and stared out into the night. His lips tipped up in a small smile and he laid his head up against yours, following your gaze. You both stayed like that for the next hour until he murmured to you, “Come back with me?”

You turned to frown up at him. Was he for real? “Really?”

“No, not that, I just meant…” He ran his free hand over his hair. “I didn’t think I’d see you again and now you’re here. I didn’t really know how to ask you before without it sounding like that. But I want to show you my place.” He gave you a bit of a proud smile.

You considered it. It would be interesting to see what kind of setup he had going for himself. That had been something you had talked about back in your bunk at the base as he held you to him, his hands roaming your bare back. “You sure Alec’s groupies won’t mind?”

Alec smirked and shook his head. “I don’t have any roommates or regular visitors if that’s what you’re asking.”

You smirked right back and leaned in, making his eyes drop to your lips. “I wasn’t,” you whispered before dropping his hand and getting to your feet. 

He got up as well, grinning over at you, that familiar fire lighting those sharp green eyes. “Just think: no guards to bribe, no need to keep it down, no time limit, no metal cot we both have to try to fit on…”

You snorted. “So you really are asking me to go back with you for that reason.”

“No, I really do want to show you the sweet setup I have.” His smile then turned wicked. “But if that were to happen, I wouldn’t exactly be against it.”

“Uh-huh.” You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms, looking away from him. You did your best to hide your own smile when he wrapped his arms around you from behind, resting his lips near your ear.

“So what do you say? Let me show you my apartment. I got a couch, a bed, a tub…”  

“Ooh, a tub?” You pretended to be impressed though you weren’t pretending too much. If a tub was considered a luxury before the world went to hell, then it was an even rarer commodity now. 

“Yep,” he huskily whispered as he brushed a kiss to your ear lobe. “All the hot water and soap you could want.” He trailed his lips down your neck, making your eyes shut halfway. “And I’ve got glasses, plates, a coffee table… I even have a stereo.”

You dug your teeth into your bottom lip when he found that spot on your neck that he knew you loved. “A stereo?”

“For music,” he explained, pressing a kiss to your jawline. “And I even managed to score some whiskey from years back, pre-pulse. You’ll love it,” he promised before nuzzling your cheek. “Come home with me.”   

You stared out over the horizon, unsure if you should give in to what he was tempting you with. Before, at Manticore, the sex had been clinical and while there was a connection between you, given the circumstances, it made sense to stick together like glue. But now… “I don’t know if I should. We’re out now and everything’s changed.”

He spun you in his arms, his brows furrowed as he cupped your face with his hands. “Not for me. I meant what I said to you in there, we were gonna get out together, find some place to blend in, and make it work.”

“But we didn’t get out together,” you whispered, gently removing his hands from you before stepping around him towards the door. 

He grabbed your hand. “Y/N.” You glanced back at his earnest expression. “I did come back for you. When everything exploded and I didn’t hear or see any trace of you, I thought—”

“I know. I went to look for you, too, once I managed to get out of my barracks.” His eyes widened slightly in surprise. “That guard, Hayes, he let me out. He said something about a deal you had in place with him if things went wrong while you were away on your mission.” You dropped your gaze. “It must’ve really cost you, so… Thanks for that.” You squeezed his hand before letting it go and making your way inside the abandoned building.   

You didn’t look back; there was no point. When you thought back to that night, you remembered Hayes sneering at you as he opened your cell door, spitting something about telling 494 that he owed him something better than cigars and the usual contraband this time. You didn’t bother thanking the man who treated you and every other transgenic on the base as nothing more than freak science experiments that were less than human, and you booked it towards the male barracks, fighting your way through when you needed to. You would never forget the relief you felt finding the specific bunk you were looking for empty, that was then followed by the feeling of betrayal, which quickly shifted into acceptance. You hoped he was alive out there somewhere, whether he had made it out before you got there or he had already been out in the world on his mission. You had chalked up your time together as a weird yet not so bad interaction and kept running. You’d even seen Hayes’ dead body on your way out, his throat torn apart, almost as if that too was closing the book on this messed up chapter of your life.

And that’s what you’d done: closed that chapter of your life and attempted to move on, to do what you could to figure out your own life. You never expected to see 494 again, let alone find him living his life, a harem of women around him. It had stuck a finger into that particular wound for a moment before the blanket acceptance was back in place. Your relationship was exactly as you’d thought it had been for both of you: something that had been forced upon you by your creators and you both had tried to make something good out of it (just not the child Manticore had wanted). And now, it was over. You both were on the outside and it was time for you both to go your separate ways, figuratively if not literally. He’d done right by you in that last moment and you’d escaped, gotten free, and lived. What more could you ask for?

You were just about to scale down to the next level when his hand landed on your shoulder, making you look back at him.

“Y/N, come back with me to my place. I want to show you something.”

You gave him a look. “494—”

“Alec,” he corrected. “I’m not talking about sex, though if you wanted that at some point, like I said, I’m more than willing.” He lifted his hand to cup your cheek and he stared into your eyes, willing you to agree. “I really want to show you something.” 

His thumb tenderly ran along your bottom lip in a familiar gesture that had always preceded a kiss before he left you for the night. A part of you hoped he would repeat the action but when he didn’t, you were more relieved than anything. Your body yearned for his—the familiarity, the comfort—but you still didn’t think you should fall back into old habits—it could only end badly, whether he ended up getting bored or one of you (or both) were found by your enemies. You felt incredibly torn. Truthfully, you weren’t quite sure what you wanted when it came to him. 

“Please,” he added. “Come over.”

He looked so determined, so earnest, that you found yourself slowly nodding in agreement. 

His handsome face lit up with a bright smile. “I promise, you’re really gonna like it.” He urged you to follow him, scaling to the next level down with you right behind him. You hoped he was right, and you also hoped you would finally get some sort of answer for yourself on whether to explore this new great unknown with him with the former Emerald City as the backdrop in contrast to your cramped cell or to close the book on him for good.

You had to admit, Alec had a nice apartment. It was bigger than you’d imagined and he had told you the truth: he had glasses, plates, a coffee table, a couch, a bed, a tub, the so-called stereo (which he turned on for a minute to show you how it worked), and the whiskey he’d promised. As you drank from your glass, marveling at the taste, you glanced around, nodding.

“Nice,” you complimented.

“Thanks.” He took your hand and led you to a corner of the living room where a box sat tall on some sort of stand. He released you to go over and stand next to it, turning to beam over at you. “What do you think?”

Your eyes roved over the box with a glass front, confused. “It’s…great?”

He gave you a look as if you should know what it was before smiling wide again. “It’s a TV,” he crowed. 

Your brows furrowed in confusion. “TV?”

“Yeah, you know, to watch movies and TV shows, that kind of thing.” 

You peered at it, wondering just how it worked. You’d heard of movies of course, but you’d never seen one. Did the images just appear on the glass when you turned it on? Was there something that needed to be selected or perhaps inserted somewhere?

He proudly laid a hand on top of it. “I managed to get ahold of it after one of my customers I’ve been selling synthetics to heard about some old lady dying nearby who had one. I headed right over to her place and got this beauty.” He smiled down at it. 

“You’ve been selling synthetics?” Of course he was still hustling, even out here. In Manticore, it had been a necessity; out here, if it helped him get nice digs like this and set him up, you had to give him credit for keeping it going and getting creative.

“Among other things. Oh, and look.” He gestured down to another smaller box sitting in front of it. “I was also able to get a VCR. It took me a few months to get a lead on one of these, but I got it.” He chuckled and turned a wide smile on you. 

You returned the smile, still unsure of what a VCR was.

“And the best part,” He took your glass from you and placed it on top of the TV before he grabbed something from behind it and shoved it into your hands. You looked down at the rectangular object and spied a familiar image you had only seen once before, when you were on the run from Manticore the first time. Your eyes widened; something you had told Alec about one night after copulating a few times and he was falling asleep, him tiredly rubbing your shoulder as you laid your head on his chest, one of the nights he’d bought more time for you both… The sight made the corners of your eyes sting, yet you forced yourself to keep the tears at bay. He had heard you that night even while nodding off and he’d— he’d managed to get his hands on it. “It’s that movie you told me about,” he began. “It’s—”

“--A Wonderful Life,” you finished in an awed whisper. You reverently traced the picture you’d seen a hundred times before Manticore caught you. You ignored the rips and stains surrounding the rim of the image and focused on the man who’d caught your interest in the first place. He looked happy, staring down at his wife, the two of them surrounded by their children, one hoisted up behind him and holding onto him for dear life. They all looked happy, which was something you’d never had or known. You’d never had a father, never knew your mother, and you’d never had a family, not like the one portrayed in the picture. Sure, you had dozens of brothers and sisters, but you weren’t a family. Manticore would punish you if any of you had even uttered the word. You were soldiers in training and that was it.

Still, this image piqued your interest and many nights, you found that you couldn’t stop staring at it. It was in an old theater, a place you’d managed to find while running the first time—the same place you took shelter in and eventually turned it into your own setup. There were other people throughout the theater who’d had the same idea, but they pretty much left you alone once you’d fought off the biggest guy in the group who had stupidly tried to take your food from you. Once you’d seen that poster, it created a yearning in you for something you had never known, something you never imagined wanting. You didn’t need parents and you didn’t need siblings, but you did crave family… Something that became more and more apparent the more you studied the image, imagining what that life would be like. 

Which is why it was so cruel when Manticore recaptured you and immediately thrust you into its breeding program. Not only had they taken your life from you since conception, viewed you as their property that they were determined to see some sort of return of their investment on—now they wanted to take whatever life you could create from you and control it, too. You weren’t going to let that happen. As a matter of fact, you’d fought 494 off the first night they sent him into your cell. It had taken him by surprise because he’d thought you both were on the same page: you had orders. But he’d quickly learned that you’d rather die than follow those particular ones. He’d maintained his distance until a guard came to retrieve him, and as he’d glanced back at you one last time as he stepped across the threshold, you knew then that you were marked for death. A soldier refusing to obey and follow orders was no good to the organization and more importantly, of no use. Thus, it took you by surprise the next day when 494 confirmed the success of your copulation the previous night to your superiors which led to him being brought back to your cell later that night to continue.

From there, even though it took a little bit, you’d both talked and began getting to know one another. You’d learned that he didn’t want to spawn any kids for Manticore anymore than you did. Eventually, a bond began to form between you and of course, so did an attraction. The night you got hit with your first heat since being recaptured—thanks to a splash of feline DNA in your system, something you’d always been able to manage on the outside before—things had changed between you, and 494 no longer had to lie when reporting that copulation had been successful. Nonetheless, the entire time you’d been back in Manticore’s hands, you’d never forgotten about that picture and what you truly wanted: your freedom, a life, and eventually, family—happiness. You wanted to be happy just like the people in the poster.

And now here you were: on the outside, free for the moment, attempting to build a life, and this picture had somehow made its way back to you, right into your very hands, real enough to literally touch. “How did you get it?”

“One of Max’s fences gave me a line on where I could find one.”

You glanced up to find him watching you intently. You gave him a small grateful smile and you could see relief flood through his expression before he covered it with a smile of his own.

He cleared his throat. “I got it before you showed up, but…I never watched it. I couldn’t bring myself to. It felt wrong to watch it without you, especially after how you talked about it, so it’s been sitting in that case for months. I hope it still works.” He let out in a quiet chuckle.

You placed the box down on top of the TV and approached him. He watched as you cupped his face with your hands and pulled him down to you, your lips meeting for the first time since seeing him again. That all-too familiar feeling flooded you and this time, you didn’t fight the smile that made its way to your face. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” This time, he was the one initiating a kiss, and he snaked his arms around your waist, pulling you into him.

Only when you both needed air and he pulled away to trail kisses down to your neck did you tease into his ear, “So exactly how many girls have you shown this movie to?”

“None,” he breathed, nibbling on your earlobe. “I told you, I didn’t want to watch it without you.”

“You expect me to believe that you haven’t shown the TV or the VCR to any other girls?” You chuckled.

He pulled back to meet your eyes. “Okay, yeah, fair enough, I’ve shown them both of those, but not that movie, I swear. That was always yours.”

You knew you should be disgusted—not only that he had been such a callous player in your absence but also because he had used similar moves on you—but right then, you decided to throw all caution to the wind, even if just for one night. Seeing the movie picture again had reminded you that you needed to take happiness wherever you could find it, because thanks to your life, who knew how much longer you had? 

“So,” you whispered huskily as you ran your fingers through his hair. “What were you saying about a bed and no time limit…?”

His eyes lit up with that familiar fire and he smirked. “Oh, hell yes.” He kissed you harder than before and picked you up, making you laugh into his mouth, as he used his transgenic speed to get you to the bedroom. 

You watched the images on the screen in awe. You and Alec were sharing a blanket to keep your nude bodies warm as you sat in his embrace, the only light in the place coming from the TV. He had his chin resting on your bare shoulder, watching the movie intently with you. The man from the movie poster, George, was telling the woman, Mary, how he was going to travel the world and he was listing off his dreams right before she threw a rock at the abandoned house they were facing. When they started singing, Alec began to frown, but you? You were completely enraptured. You’d never seen or heard anything like this before. 

In the beginning, the tape had seemed like it didn’t want to work, black and white tears in the image as it played, but thankfully Alec knew what he was doing with the equipment and how to get it working. Ever since then, your eyes hadn’t strayed from the screen once, even when Alec had tried to get a second round going, promising you he could pause the film and you could finish watching it later. When he’d failed to garner your attention, he’d pressed a kiss to the back of your head and settled behind you, letting out a quiet sigh of contentment as he’d burrowed into your neck before rejoining you in watching the movie.

When George told Mary that he’d give her the moon, Alec rolled his eyes and dropped a kiss onto your skin. “That’s lame,” he muttered.

You turned to look at him. “Why? Because he wants to give her anything she wants?”

“No. Because he’s going to lasso the moon. Lasso the moon? Really?”

You laughed and he smiled, leaning in to kiss your cheek. “Alright, sure, it’s cheesy, but the message isn’t.”

“It’s not?” Alec moved to kiss your ear.

“No. He likes her that much, he’d do anything for her. Kind of nice actually,” you ended in a whisper as you turned back to the screen. You let out a soft chuckle when the old man interrupted the couple and told George that he talked too much and he should kiss Mary already.

Alec, who had glanced back at the screen to watch that part of the scene, turned an affectionate smile on you before leaning in to nuzzle your cheek. “Stay here tonight,” he urged.

Your eyelids dropped halfway when he moved his lips to your neck and you dug your teeth into your bottom lip. “I can’t. Joshua will be worried.”

“The big guy will be just fine, trust me,” he promised, his lips gliding back to your shoulder. “I want you to stay.”

You thought it over. You both had reacquainted yourselves earlier quite nicely so that wasn’t an issue. Just like Alec had said, it had been amazing to be in a bed for once, not under the pressure of a timeclock or having to worry about prying eyes and listening ears milling around. You didn’t have to separate soon after you were finished if the guards Alec usually bribed weren’t on shift that night. Here, you were free to just be and let things take their own course and that had been a phenomenal feeling. As for what came next… you weren’t too sure about that. You hadn’t done a lot of talking since Alec carried you into his bedroom and playfully dropped you on the bed, knowing it wouldn’t hurt you. You had let out an incredulous laugh and he mirrored your grin before he’d been all over you.

You watched as he pressed tender kisses to your bare skin before glancing up at you hopefully. You took his face into your hand and he leaned into your touch. Seeing that, you decided to state your one condition if he truly wanted you to stay. “No more girls.” You refused to look away as you threw down that gauntlet. While he never said he wanted anything more than tonight with you, you needed him to know that if this did somehow go past that, you wouldn’t be wondering just who he had in his bed or on his couch a few hours before you would arrive at his front door. Or who he might bring back to this apartment to show his TV and VCR to. 

He stared at you for a moment until the corner of his lips tipped up into a bit of a smug smile. “No more girls,” he agreed.

You tilted your head at him, studying his expression.

“What?” He laughed. 

“Just like that?”

Alec’s smile grew and he leaned in to place a kiss to the corner of your mouth. “Just like that.” You weren’t the least bit surprised when he suddenly turned you around in his arms to face him, one hand keeping the blanket over you, cocooning you both. He wiggled his eyebrows playfully at you before covering both of your heads with the blanket and leaning in for the kill.

“What about the movie?” You laughed as he began to kiss your neck.

“That’s the great thing about tapes. We can watch it again anytime we want,” he murmured, his hands starting to roam your body insistently.

“So we can watch the lasso the moon part again?” You teased.

He groaned into your neck, making you laugh. “Yeah, we can, if that’s what you want,” he grumbled, sounding like he was going to majorly suffer when you watched it again.

You pulled back, smiling, and cupped his face. “I want you,” you told him earnestly. And you did. You wanted more nights with him like this, you wanted what you two had managed to create back in your cell. Studying him now, you could see the man who had become almost everything to you back then, who’d kept you going during the rough moments, who ended up looking out for you even though he usually lived by the unwritten rule of only ever looking out for himself.  

His eyes stared into yours and a small smile began to form on his face. “Then stay,” he urged.

You pretended to think over it for a minute and when you grinned over at him, his smile was already mirroring yours. “Okay,” you answered playfully, as if he had only posed a simple question like asking you if you wanted a drink or not. You moved up to kiss him and bury your fingers in his disheveled hair. “No lassoing the moon required,” you murmured to his lips.

He rolled his eyes and quickly maneuvered you onto your back with him right on top of you. He smirked down at you, leaning in to kiss you. “I’ll give you something better than the damn moon,” he mumbled into your mouth, making you laugh. 

You didn’t want the moon or the stars (except the ones Alec made you see exploding behind your eyelids from time to time) or anything else that grand. What you wanted was simple: everything right here in front of you at this moment. A life that was your own, a job that helped keep money coming in, a roof over your head that offered protection from the cold, the wet, and intruders, while offering you a safe space to rest your head at night; food in your stomach, clothes that fit, and the feelings that coursed through you every time Alec kissed you.

Post-pulse Seattle might not be Bedford Falls and you might not be George Bailey or even Mary for that matter, but you were free, you were building a life, and you were happy. And someday, if you lived long enough, you might even get that family you’d been yearning for. From the look of things, between Joshua, Max, and now Alec, you were hopefully already starting to form something akin to the idea. And really, what more could you ask for?

Please let me know if you would like to be tagged for this character.

dividers by @firefly-graphics

banner by @cafekitsune

Main Masterlist

Main Tag List Submission Form

[mint-8]

Yandere Sculptor x GN! Reader

Content/Trigger warning: Mentions of stalking.

- Yandere Sculptor who has dedicated their entire life to the creation of their art. The ability to mold rock, clay, resin, plastic, and even cardboard, into beautiful figures, whether they are useful items such as intricate plates and cups, or to detailed and almost life-like copies of animals and people, or to the most abstract and confusing pieces, they can’t deny that they love their innate talent. Thanks to the support and encouragement from their parents from an early age, they have made a name for themselves in many art circles as an up-and-coming prodigy. With hundreds requesting their time and skill for commissions, from weddings, to museums and to private collections, their future was solidified in stone as one of the greatest sculptors of the decade… so why did you have to exist?

- Yandere Sculptor met you in one of their many art shows. Simple, you were intently watching one of their sculptures with a small glass full of champagne while they were talking with one of their fellow artist.

“I’m telling you, marble is way too overrated. Bronze and brass can be just as good of material as any other!”

“…”

“You’re not listening to me, are you?”

“Correct. I’ll leave for now, bye”

“At least try to be more polite about it!”

- Yandere Sculptor gets beside you and as you continue to stare at their piece. They want to talk to you so badly, but over a million possible introduction questions start fighting in their head over which one would be the most optimal until they realize that you have already left the venue and it's are about to close.

"Not so lucky today, eh?"

"..."

"Don't worry, you'll get them next time, champ. I'm sure they wouldn't mind an asshole who leaves their friend to go and try and fail miserably to flirt"

"... You're angry. I'll let you be so you calm down"

"Can't you even pretend to care?!"

- Yandere Sculptor meets you once again in another exhibition, this time with you seemingly talking with someone else. Perfect timing.

- Yandere Sculptor is determined to talk to you this time. They have prepared over 862 possible scenarios for the perfect conversation, which will definitely end with you completely enamored with them, their number in your phone and yours on theirs, and possibly preparing for marriage. Only for them to forget it all after you greet them back.

"..."

"Uhm... are you alright?"

"You're beautiful"

"Oh! Thank you, but-"

"Let's go out"

"Eh?"

- Yandere Sculptor has clearly won you over with their impeccable charisma, and you definitely didn't agree to hang out because you considered them adorably pathetic or felt bad for them. Yandere Sculptor then prepares for the date of their life with help from their friend. They meet you in the park the two of you agreed to go, on a full tuxedo, a bouquet of flowers and expensive jewelry in a cute little box.

"I think you over dressed for this"

"I didn't"

"Oh really? We are in 30-degree weather, and we were supposed to just get some ice cream and walk around the park"

"You are worthy this and everything else in the galaxy"

"... Unconventional but appreciated. Let's go to a cafe first, ok?"

- Yandere Sculptor really loves you with all their heart, but have a very bad time expressing it appropriately, or even with enough care so as to not embarass you in public.

"What's this?"

"A car"

"Yes, obviously. And why is it here?"

"You said you wanted one, so I bought it"

"... Are you an idiot?"

"Funny, my friend said the same"

- Yandere Sculptor will let you be the one with the pants in the relationship and wouldn't even dare to get in your way in whatever you wish to do. They might not get it completely, or at all really, but are very eager to spend time with you, so they will give it their all to make you smile.

- Yandere Sculptor sometimes uses their wealth and connections to protect you and make you happy fro the shadows, like getting a reservation to that show or restaurant you always wanted to go to, hire some bodyguards and detectives to make sure you are safe, bribe some cops to make sure that stalker of yours gets the death penalty, buy land so they can build the house of your dreams when you eventually get married. You know, small stuff.

- Yandere Sculptor does have a nasty side to them, of course. They might be blunt, somewhat stupid, and clueless, and they are completely head over heels for you, but they sometimes wish you would never leave their side. They wish they could keep you in their house forever, praising you and making art in your honor. They already have many sculptures of you (some with a more angelic or godly design than others), plus some portraits and photos from the many commissions they have paid to portray your beauty in new artistic angles.

- Yandere Sculptor has so many artistic representations of you that are sure to last for decades or even generations thanks to their high-quality materials. But it's not enough for them. Just like any other human, you one day will die and leave this terrenal plain of existence to transcend to a more spiritual form, but they don't want your corpse to rot and destroy the beauty that they believe is the same as that of a goddes.

- Yandere Sculptor has a lot of experience with working with resin, so it wouldn't be too difficult to make you into a perfect statue that will never age and never get hurt. It's an interesting thought, an appealing thought, but then you call them to ask if they wish to go to an art exhibition, and they immediately forget it all to get ready for the event. Who knows, perhaps they will be happy to simply be buried with you in the cemetery, but to immortalize you and them into a sculpture...

"It would be beautiful :)"

[ssa-montgomery]

Secrets I Have Held In My Heart (are harder to hide than I thought)

Word Count: 7489

Summary: Daryl misreads Y/N's laughing and joking with Rick as flirting which leads to a fight between the pair where Daryl's hidden feelings for Y/N are revealed. Little does he know, she's felt the same way the whole time.

Characters: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader, Rick Grimes

Warnings: Swearing, verbal fighting, mutual pining, smut, just the filthiest smut, oral sex (fem receiving), thigh riding, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, dom/sub, degradation kink, use of degrading terms (bitch, slut), punishments, spanking, dirty talk, hickeys, marking, possessive kink, kind of ownership kink too?, choking kink, biting, Daryl has a bit of an oral fixation, rough sex, crying, Daryl is generally very possessive and angry and it gets KINKY

A/N: Yet another Daryl request from here on Tumblr and oh boy am I going to hell for this one! Anon requested a fic with jealous Daryl where the reader and Rick have always been close and Daryl views it as flirting and ends up kissing the reader when he can't take it anymore leading to smut and I well, took it a slight step further. My mind really just ran wild with this prompt and this is probably the roughest, dirtiest smut I've written so I really hope this is still what you wanted from this request Anon! I hope you all enjoy angry possessive Daryl!

Feedback is what motivates me to work so please let me know what you think! Reblogs are also greatly appreciated.

Taglist is open!

Masterlist

It took a long time for your group to find the comfort you had today, years on the road afraid of what would come next, fighting tooth and nail for every ounce of safety you found in Alexandria but it finally felt like the fight was worth it. On the quiet days that you let your mind forget what lay waiting for you beyond those walls, it almost felt like the old world again. It was a sense of normality you never thought you'd find again, walking up every morning under the same roof in your own home rather than the open skies of the woods or the concrete walls of the prison. Deanna had even found you a job taking shifts at the infirmary based on your first aid training.

For the first time in a long time, you were happy. Actually genuinely happy. When you weren't at work you spent your evenings helping the community, tending to the gardens and spending time with friends both new and old. You'd even taken up hosting the occasional dinner party alongside Aaron and Eric. You were content in your life, but still, there was something missing. You couldn't deny the bittersweet feeling of watching everyone around you settle down into relationships, some already happily married and some even starting families.

Relationships were the one element of your old life that you were admittedly finding it hard to settle back into. You had plenty of platonic relationships sure, some closer than others and you valued every single bond you'd created since you met this group back in Atlanta but after everything you'd lost, you were afraid if you let someone get that close again losing them would destroy you. No matter how safe you were in Alexandria this world was still cruel, and you'd learned that the hard way.

It was the exact reason why you hid what you really wanted from the one person you'd let yourself develop feelings for since this all began.

"This seat taken?" You were sitting out on your porch, your legs tucked up underneath you in your old rocking chair just watching the world go by when you heard his voice behind you. A bright smile broke out across your face as you looked up to see Rick standing with his hand on the back of the chair next to you.

"Not at all, please, sit down. You want a drink?" You asked gesturing towards the fresh jug of cold lemonade you'd made just before you came outside. Rick nodded politely at you as he took his seat and you leaned over to the little table beside you, grabbing the spare glass you kept by the jug. You always kept yourself prepared for visitors, a couple of the women from the community including Rosita and Carol had grown fond of stopping by and admittedly you enjoyed the company. 

You listened to the satisfying noise of the ice clinking against the side of the jug as you poured a drink for Rick, taking a moment to enjoy the quiet, strangely familiar feeling of it all. Summer was quickly approaching and it filled the air with that warmth that wasn't yet overbearing but certainly made you appreciate the feeling of a cool drink.

"Thank you Y/N." Rick smiled at you, happily accepting the glass you held out to him before taking a sip. When you first found this group Rick was one of the first people to truly see your potential and he'd quickly become one of your best friends while he helped you become the fighter you were today. The two of you almost immediately formed a close bond and you knew you could always count on him to look out for you and you'd risked your life time and again to protect his family.

"Judith didn't wanna visit her favourite person in the whole town today?" You asked feigning a dramatic, hurt sigh as you pressed your hand over your heart. Judith was growing up so fast, having now reached the age where she was starting to say anything that came to her mind. It led to a rather hilarious situation for you when she blurted out that you were her favourite person to visit in front of Rosita, Carol and Maggie while the group was having dinner at Rick's house. They had sulked over her choice and she quickly followed it up by saying Daryl was her second favourite which only seemed to add insult to injury for them.

"No, she's got another play date with Gracie today. The pair of 'em are inseparable now." Rick chuckled lightly as he spoke, a peaceful look softening his features as he looked over at you. Judith was the light of his life, that much was clear from the way he talked about her. You could see the weight it has lifted off his shoulders now that he was able to give her the childhood she deserved.

"Oh that's good, it's good for them. Being able to play like kids again. She'll do well here Rick." You took a long sip from your drink while you watched Rick. There was something distracting him, something clearly on his mind as he stared out past the road in front of you, staring at nothing in particular. You gave him a curious look, balancing your drink on the arm of your chair before you spoke again. "What brings you out here anyway?"

"Headin' out on a run soon, just wanted some peace and quiet first before I gotta deal with that you know? Thought I'd stop by to say hi in the meantime." He shrugged, seemingly snapping back into the moment as he looked over at you and offered you a warm smile.

"Rick Grimes lookin' for some peace and quiet, I never thought I'd see the day. You were always lookin' for trouble when I first met you." You shot him a teasing grin as you spoke, your eyes sparkling with that look of mischief that always got you in trouble for your comments at town meetings.

"Hey, watch it you. You're one to talk 'bout lookin' for trouble." He scoffed reaching his arm out to lightly smack you for your dig at him. It truly did bring you comfort to see Rick and the kids growing into their new lives here,  it was what they deserved after everything they'd been through. "Can I ask you somethin'?"

Rick's attitude changed then, his expression becoming more serious compared to your previous teasing. It wasn't serious enough to worry you but you knew what came next was going to be a personal question, something Rick seemed unsure about bringing up.

"Sure Rick, course you can." You nodded giving him your full attention.

"You and Daryl, is there something-" 

Rick's question was cut short by a loud, sharp whistle from the road just below your porch, your trained instincts making your eyes immediately snap to the source of the noise. Daryl was leaning against a tree just to the side of your house, his hands shoved in his pockets as he watched the two of you. You offered him a warm smile, giving him a small wave when you spotted him but it was met with a cold, almost angry stare from him.

You could feel your happy expression fall from your face, a heavy feeling weighing on your chest at his reaction, unsure of what you'd done to seemingly upset him. It had taken a while, longer than with anyone else in the group but you'd developed a close friendship with Daryl, finally breaking down the walls he'd built so high around himself but sometimes he would shut you out again and you could never understand why. Maybe things would be simpler if you could understand even just a fraction of what went on inside his head.

"We gotta go Rick."  That was the only form of acknowledgement or conversation the two of you got from him, even his tone towards Rick seemed different. There was none of that usual brotherly respect the two men held for each other present in his voice, instead, he sounded even more annoyed than usual. 

"I'll see you 'round Y/N." Rick nodded at you, his hand resting on your shoulder as he bid his goodbyes, turning to jog down your front steps to catch up with Daryl. By the time he turned away from you, Daryl was already gone turning his back on the two of you without another word as he disappeared up the street.

"What is goin' on with him?" You muttered under your breath, letting out a frustrated sigh as you tapped your nails against your glass. You were growing increasingly concerned that he was angry with you over something you were unaware you'd done and you wished you could talk to him about it, find out what was on his mind but you knew you wouldn't get that chance until they returned from their run now.

What you didn't know was how long Daryl had been standing there, just out of sight, watching the way you and Rick laughed and joked together, catching every innocent touch. Or the way that scene looked to jealous eyes and a cruel imagination that couldn't hear the true conversation.

~~~

It was late when the knock finally came on your door, so late in fact that you'd started to pace, growing worried that you'd just have to give up and accept that he wasn't going to show. You knew who it was the second the three loud knocks echoed through the house, the sound sending your heart racing. You rushed through the kitchen and took one final breath before quickly pulling the front open to be greeted with the sight of Daryl standing on the other side. You opened your mouth to speak but the words died in your throat. You lost your nerve at the way Daryl stared you down, his eyes burning through you with that same angry look as earlier.

"Carol said ya wanted me. Whadda want?" He snapped at you, clearly unimpressed at your lack of conversation. His attitude was completely different towards you today, he was never this short or aggressive with you and on the rare occasion that he was it didn't last long, the anger not having been directed towards you in the first place. Today though, his anger seemed to very much be directed towards you. You hoped he'd have cooled down after your encounter that morning but he seemed just as irritated as he had then.

"I um- can you come in?" You stepped back from the entrance deciding that maybe your doorway wasn't the best place for this conversation as you held the door open for him and gestured for him to come inside. He stared you down for a moment as if he was considering abandoning this whole conversation, walking away before this got too far before he finally stepped inside. You crossed your arms in front of you, your fingers playing nervously with the fabric of your shirt as you started to speak again. "I was hopin' we could talk-"

"'Bout what?" Daryl's voice cut over you, not even letting you finish your sentence as he did everything he could to avoid looking you in the eyes. You could feel your annoyance growing at the sight of him scuffing his dirty boots against your wooden floors.

"What is goin' on with you Daryl?" You asked with more force than you'd originally intended. The original worry and hurt you'd felt were now melting away into frustration at whatever kind of childish tantrum he was having. No matter how much you trusted and respected Daryl you had your limits and you certainly weren't going to let him treat you the way he was without even giving you an explanation.

"Nuthin'."

"Oh, bullshit." You spat back. If there was one thing everyone respected about you it was your ability to put Daryl in his place, even if you did sink to his level in the process. If you wanted answers you were going to get them. "I mean seriously Daryl you've been all pissy with me all day. Did I do something to you? What is wrong?" 

"Rick." You waited for more of an explanation, expecting that maybe the two were arguing but nothing came. You were becoming increasingly fed up with this conversation. Daryl was a man of few words and that was well known in Alexandria but now was hardly the time for him to decide he didn't want to talk. How could you be expected to find a way to fix this when he wouldn't even talk to you about it?

"What about him? Is there somethin' goin' on with the two of you? Will you just fuckin' talk to me, Daryl?" 

"Nah. Ain't nuthin' goin' on with me and Rick but there is between the two of you, ain't there?" Daryl had been trying to bite his tongue on the subject. He knew he shouldn't bring it up but there was a fire burning in his eyes when they finally met yours and there was no putting it out now as it lit the explosive anger inside him. His voice rose in volume until he was almost shouting as he started to rant. "Saw the way you was with him this mornin'. All smilin' and laughin'. Flirtin' with those lil touches. Ya think the rest of us are fuckin' blind or sumthin'?" 

His words were dripping with venom, finally releasing all of his anger that had been building over this situation for weeks as he drew closer to you. His face was inches away from yours and you could smell the smoke from the cigarette he'd lit up on the way to your house still on his breath. He was trying to intimidate you but you weren't going to let it happen as you held your chin up and stood your ground.

"You're jealous? You're actually fuckin' jealous?" You all but laughed in his face. It was entertaining to you, it truly was. What Daryl didn't realise was that even if anyone else in Alexandria was attracted to you in that way, he had absolutely nothing to worry about. There was something about your relationship with him that even Daryl hadn't caught onto yet.

You had denied it for a long time but the truth was you were attracted to the redneck from that first second you'd met him back in Atlanta. There was something about that fiery temper and defiance that drew you in and you couldn't fight it anymore not when it was on full display for you like this. Not when it was over how possessive Daryl had grown over you. You spent countless nights fantasising about what it would be like if you could get Daryl alone like this. If you could get him to unleash that anger on you.

"For fuck sake Daryl, Rick's like a brother to me. I was never flirtin' with him! All that smilin' and jokin' was about Judith and Gracie. Those touches? They're nothin' more than friendly. You wouldn't be havin' such a bitch fit over it if were Carol doin' it would you?" You squared up to him, not caring that you posed absolutely no threat to him as you leaned up towards his face trying to match his aggression. 

"You think I'm stupid, girl?" He growled, his words vibrating low in his throat as he walked you backwards until you were trapped against the wall with nowhere else to run. The feeling should have scared you but as wrong as it was you could already feel the heat growing between your legs. "Don't lie to me. I heard Maggie sayin' you were spillin' all your fantasies to her, she was talkin' 'bout ya wantin' someone 'round here. It's clearly him."

"I really do think you're stupid if you haven't figured out who it really is yet." You bit back with a mocking smirk on your face. You were getting overconfident in just how much you could match Daryl's attitude without facing the consequences. "You wanna know what I really told Maggie? I told her how much I'd been thinkin' 'bout your hands on my body. How rough I thought you'd be with me. I told her how much I wished you'd just get the nerve to just fuck me already. But I mean if your just goin' to sulk instead maybe I should -"

Once you started you couldn't stop yourself from letting exactly how you felt about Daryl and everything you'd been dreaming of spill out before you could overthink it. It didn't matter anyway, he didn't give you a chance to regret it. Before you could even finish your sentence Daryl's hand was around your throat, squeezing the sides just enough to cut off the blood flow as he pressed you back into the wall behind you.

"You want me to show ya who ya belong to? Want me to fuck ya like I mean it huh? Prove I'm the only one who can fuck this pussy good?" Daryl's lips were ghosting over yours now, his breath hot against your skin as he held back from kissing you, teasing you. You were pressed so close together you could feel the rapid rise and fall of his chest as he panted out his anger. He was towering over you, completely caging you in and part of you wanted to melt. To entirely give into everything he wanted to do to you and let him take you over but you were too worked up for that now. Too frustrated and proud to play the role of the good girl.

"I'd like to see you try Dixon." You scoffed with a smug look in your eyes. You let your eyes drag over his body like you were inspecting goods out on a run, trying to keep your expression as unimpressed as you could. It was a challenge, one you knew Daryl would take. He had to. You knew what he was like when he got like this, knew how determined he was to prove a point. He was never going to back down from this, especially not when you challenged his ability. You wanted him to fuck you hard, to punish you for testing him and that was exactly what you were going to get.

"Don't be a fuckin' brat." His voice was low as he spoke, a warning of what was to come if you continued the way you were. He used his grip on your throat to pull you flush against his chest before slamming you back against the wall. 

Your head tipped back against the wall as your hands found his wrist, trying to hold his hand in place as he threatened to move away. He hadn't been rough enough to hurt you, just enough to be forceful but part of you wanted him to tighten his grip, to leave a bruise against your skin in the shape of his hand. You gasped out at the feeling of him squeezing his hand again and he took the chance to finally kiss you. It was a rough and messy kiss, his tongue dragging over yours as his lips moved against you. "I'm gonna make sure everyone knows who ya fuckin' belong to. Show 'em who managed to make this brat submit." 

His lips left your mouth, leaving sloppy kisses across your jaw until they found the junction where your jaw met your throat, sucking on the soft, sensitive skin before sinking his teeth in to make sure it left a mark. You cried out, your skin already burning under the feeling as your hands grasped the back of his neck, holding his mouth against your skin. 

He smirked against your skin in between kisses, knowing you were enjoying it from the way you held him in place. He didn't let up, deciding that just one mark wasn't enough as he moved his mouth all across your neck, sucking and nipping until he was satisfied that you were covered. He pulled back to admire his work, looking at the purple marks that were already starting to blossom against your skin, the slight indents of his teeth, everything that marked you as his.

"Ya like that huh?" He hummed against the shell of your ear, his fingers trailing over the marks on your neck. The feeling of his light touch making shiver. "Like walkin' 'round with a reminder of the only one who can touch ya like this? Wearin' a reminder everyone can see?"

"Prove it." You panted out, that mischief still in your eyes as you watched for his reaction. You weren't going to give in to him so easily, even if you were already growing desperate from the simplest of touches. You'd been dreaming about this for too long to not get exactly what you wanted. "Prove that you're good enough to be the only one touchin' me. All I've seen so far is you talkin' a big game. Got the skills to back it up, pretty boy?" 

Whatever small bit of restraint that Daryl had still been holding onto snapped at that moment. His hands were on you in a second, pulling at your clothes to finally feel your skin. He quickly grew tired of trying to wrestle with the small buttons of your shirt, instead grabbing at the top of the flannel and pulling. 

You could hear the sound of the fabric ripping under his strength as the buttons popped and fell to the floor, revealing your heaving chest to him. You pushed the ruined fabric from your shoulders, letting it fall to the floor as Daryl made quick work of your bra, pulling it down your arms with one hand. His free hand was already groping at your chest before the bra even hit the ground as his thigh moved between your legs, pressing up into you to give you the friction you'd been craving.

You moaned out at the feeling of Daryl's mouth dropping to your chest, sucking another hickey into the curve of your breast where you already knew it would be visible above any of your low-cut tops. He moved his mouth downward, kissing over your skin until he took your nipple into his mouth. His tongue lapped over it, the feeling making you buck against his thigh. The drag against your clit was just right as Daryl kept up his pace, moving between your breasts listening to the gasps that fell from your mouth. 

"Nah." He groaned grabbing at your hips as he decided your movements were getting too desperate, pinning you back against the wall to stop you from grinding against him. You could on his face how much self restrain it was taking for him to stop you, to take his time with this. "Nah if yer gonna cum it's gonna be while I fuck ya so hard ya can't walk for a week. Want to feel you cummin' on my dick. You ain't gonna cum like this. Don't get to cum 'til I say so."

"I wasn't gonna cum I promise." You whined out trying to buck your hips against his hands but his grip was too strong. You weren't going to get anything he wasn't willing to give you. He proved that point, pushing his thigh even further into you, giving you more pressure but none of the friction you were so desperate for. You wanted to break Daryl's rules, wanted to see just how far you could push him and above everything else you wanted to come, your body already so close to that edge. "Just wanna feel you, Daryl."

"You get yerself off before I say ya can and I swear yer gonna regret it." He warned, his voice holding that dangerous tone as his mouth returned to its place on your chest. He was playing his own game with you, testing you to see how far you were willing to let him go as his hands released their grip on your hips. 

He knew you weren't going to listen if he gave you the opportunity to keep grinding against his thigh, you had a reputation for ignoring every instruction you were given. The thing was, you breaking his rules was all the permission he needed to play this rough.  

You ground yourself against his thigh the second he let you go, moaning as the new pressure made the seam of your jeans rub against your clit even through your panties. Daryl's mouth trailed across your chest, biting and sucking at your skin while his hands groped at your ass, pulling you against him. He was toying with you, waiting to see how long it would take for you to beg him to stop, not able to take anymore before you came.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, your fingers threading into his hair as you used the leverage to ride his thigh. You should have stopped, should have listened to his warning and told him how close you were but you couldn't help yourself. The heavy drag of denim against denim was driving you crazy, rubbing you just the right way as the friction built you closer and closer to orgasm. Before you could think to stop yourself your movements grew faster and more desperate, the feeling of Daryl's teeth grazing your nipple throwing you over the edge.

"Daryl - oh fuck -" You threw your head, the dull pain from your head colliding with the wall only heightened the feeling as your arms tightened around his neck, one hand scratching across his clothed shoulders. You barely had time to come down before you felt Daryl's hand around your throat again, pulling you back to the reality of what you'd just done. Your head was already swimming from the force of your orgasm and his hand squeezing your throat had your eyes fluttering shut. 

"You stupid fuckin' bitch." Daryl growled forcing your face up to meet the fiery look in his eyes. That anger you loved was still as strong as ever as you struggled against his grip, your breathing coming more laboured than before as his hand restricted it. "I warned ya but clearly you can't fuckin' listen. Gonna show ya what happens to brats that can't learn to behave. You wanna cum so badly? Gonna make ya cum until ya beg me to stop and then some more. Not gonna stop until I ruined ya." 

"Oh god, Daryl, please." You gasped out, your hips bucking in search of his again already. Your mind was racing with the idea of what Daryl was about to do to you and you knew none of it could live up to the reality of what was about to happen. Even after the orgasm you'd just had you could feel the need building again in the pit of your stomach, the way your heart raced under his hardened stare. "I need it please."

"Look at ya, just came on my thigh and yer already beggin' for me like some dumb slut. You want that don't ya? Want me to use ya until yer all fucked out, can't even remember yer own name?" Daryl's degrading words shouldn't have turned you as much as they did but you were already putty in his hands. He was right. You wanted to be used by him in whatever way he saw fit. He could do whatever he wanted to you at this point and you'd thank him even if it left you bruised for a week.

"Ya really liked my mouth on these tits that much huh?" He asked, punctuating his question by roughly groping at your chest again, his thumbs swiping over your nipples. "I know somewhere else I could put it to good use to make ya cum. Gonna eat yer pussy 'til yer drippin' down my face. Where's yer bedroom?"

"It's - it's -" Your words trailed off into a broken moan as Daryl dropped his hand to cup you through your jeans, his fingers running over your clit even through the material. He thrust his fingers against you, watching the reaction on your face as he mimicked the movements of fingering you over your jeans. The feeling had you moving your hips against him, praying he would just slip his hand inside the waistband of your jeans. Any thought of the question he'd asked you was long gone as your brain completely gave in to him.

"Never fuckin' mind then. Here's good enough. Are ya really that drunk on the thought of me fuckin' ya already?" Daryl dropped to his knees in front of you and roughly pulled at your jeans, undoing the button before he pulled them down your legs in one swift movement. 

You could see his eyes darken as they focused on the wet spot on the front of your panties that you were sure had probably soaked onto your jeans too. He wasted no time, peeling the soaked material away from your body and throwing it to the side to join your jeans. He ran his fingers up the inside of your legs, starting at your knee and stopping at the apex of your thigh, feeling how slick your skin was there. "Already drippin' down yer thighs for me. You want me to fuck ya that badly?"

"Yes, yes Daryl need you to make me cum again please." You gasped out feeling the way he ran his hands up the inside of your thighs again, stopping just before he got to where you really needed to feel him. His lips followed the path his hands had just taken, moving painfully slow as he teased you. He stopped to suck at the inside of your thigh, marking every part of your body that he touched as his. He stuck his tongue out and leaned towards your clit before diverting to your hip bone at the last second, driving you out of your mind with frustration as you tried to press your thighs together for any form of friction. "Daryl fuck sake, please just -"

You yelped at the feeling of Daryl's teeth sinking into the side of your thigh as he pulled your hips closer to his face, his tongue soothing over the sting his bite left behind.

"Watch yer tone Darlin'. You got yourself into this mess, yer gonna take yer punishment like the good lil' slut you are." His fingers traced over the red mark that was raising on your thigh as he spoke, distracting you with the feeling of his feather-light touches before he dived in, lapping his tongue across your folds. 

You jerked forward at the sudden feeling shooting through your body, your hand grasping at his hair. He was messy, making sure every inch of you got attention as he kissed and sucked everywhere he could reach. He grabbed at the backs of your thighs, hooking one leg over his shoulder to spread you out even more to his tongue, his lips finally closing around your clit. "Sweetest thing I've ever tasted. Goddamn woman you taste like fuckin' candy. Wanna taste you cummin' on my tongue."

Daryl didn't give you a chance to process his words before his mouth was on you again, lapping up everything he could. Your fingers in his hair tightened, pulling at the strands as he traced his tongue around your clit in tight circles before sucking on it harshly. You were quickly learning that his sharp tongue was good at more than just biting insults, your thighs squeezing around his head. He didn't seem to care about your tightening grip as he dipped his tongue down to tease around your entrance, listening to the way you whimpered and whined before he pushed it inside of you.

Your hips pressed forward against his face at the feeling of his tongue inside you, his name a broken cry on your lips. He grabbed your hips, tilting them forward so his nose bumped against your clit with each movement. Daryl put everything he had into eating you out, a concentrated look taking over his features as he pressed his whole face into you while his arms wrapped around your thighs to hold you in place, letting him take whatever he wanted from you. He flattened his tongue inside you, grazing against your g-spot and the feeling combined with the pressure on your clit had you coming again.

You cried out as you spasmed around his tongue, your knees almost giving out as you doubled over his head, your hands sliding down from his hair to grasp at his back. His name was a broken moan on your lips as he worked you through your orgasm, his tongue never stopping its movements. You expected him to ease off once your body started to slow down again but instead, he pulled his tongue out, licking you clean before moving his tongue to clit again as he slid two fingers inside of you.

"Daryl what - ah - what are doin'?" You pulled at his hair trying to pull his attention away from your already sensitive clit, the feeling almost too much for you already.

"I never said I was done with ya. You felt too good cummin' 'round my tongue to just leave it at one." Was the only response you got as he dove back in, his lips finding your clit again. His fingers hooked in just the right place on every thrust while he found a steady rhyme with his tongue. Your breathing was broken, every second breath a whimper or moan. Your orgasm was building quicker than you'd ever felt before and you knew you were already close.

Daryl's hand came up to grab at your waist, using his grip and your leg slung over his shoulder as leverage to hold you up against the wall as your legs started to shake. His hand slid across to press against your stomach as the cries of his name started to come quicker, louder with each thrust. He pushed a third finger into you and you screamed out his name at the unexpected feeling. The slight burn as he stretched you out only added to the pleasure he was bringing you.

One more particularly rough thrust of his fingers against your g-spot had you coming around him again. You clenched around his fingers as your legs finally gave out, your eyes snapping shut at the intense orgasm that ripped through your body. Daryl slowly pulled his fingers out of you and stood up again, his grip on you the only thing keeping you standing as every muscle in your body tensed. He pulled you in a kiss, slow and messy as he moved his tongue against yours in the same way he had as he ate you out, letting you taste yourself off his lips.

"Three down, how many more can ya handle? Bet this sweet pussy's gettin' sensitive." He proved his point as he dropped his hand down to tease at your clit, feeling the way your whole body shuddered against him. His hands were back on your waist in an instant, pulling you away from the wall as he lead you over to the kitchen counter. He spun you in his arms letting his hands roam across your body as your head tipped back against his shoulder. Your skin was already sticky with sweat, your breath feeling impossible to catch.

Your hips met the hard surface of the counter and you could feel the bulge in Daryl's pants pressing against your ass as he stepped in behind you, holding you tight against his body. He leaned back slowly running his hand up your spine until he reached your neck, messily wrapping your hair around his hand. You gasped out when he shoved you forward by the makeshift ponytail, bending you over the counter. He tightened his grip on your hair and pulled, hard, forcing your head to snap back so he could catch your mouth in another bruising kiss.

"Better brace yerself for this. Gonna fuck you all hard and rough, just like ya wanted." He warned as his hands left your body, the sound of the scrape of the metal zipper on his pants filling the room. He quickly undid the button and pulled his pants and boxers down just enough to free his cock, not even bothering to fully undress. You reached your hands out in front of you trying to find any purchase on the counter that you could as you pressed your cheek against the cool granite surface.

You were waiting for Daryl's next move, your heart racing with anticipation as you couldn't see Daryl moving behind you in this position. You couldn't even prepare yourself for how big he would be as you realised you still hadn't seen him undress and yet here you were, fully undressed, writhing against the counter for him. You cried out, your hips pressing even further into the counter as you tried to arch away from the pain of Daryl's strong hand landing roughly on your ass. A second later the harsh sting landed on the other side of your ass. A whimper fell from your lips at the pain but you'd be lying if you said the feeling of your skin burning under his hits wasn't turning you on beyond belief.

"Yer ass looks even better all marked up with my handprint," Daryl growled in your ear as he leaned over you, his chest pressed against your back while his hand grabbed at your ass. You could feel his cock dragging against you in this position and the feeling of it had you pushing up on your toes, trying to get Daryl to hurry up and fuck you already. "Might have to take ya over my knee if ya don't learn to behave yerself." 

Daryl was already worked up in a way that clouded his mind to anything but his goal of fucking you. He was painfully hard from seeing you getting off on him so many times already and it didn't take much convincing for him to shove his cock inside you. He pushed himself all the way in with one hard thrust, his hand pressing down on the small of your back as he held you in place. 

You moaned out at the feeling of him filling you up in a way you'd never felt before when you were already so sensitive and he didn't give you a chance to adjust to his thick length. He pulled out until only the tip was still inside you and then slammed back in, setting a cruel pace as he fucked you hard.

Your nails scratched against the surface of the counter trying to find any way to ground yourself in the moment as your brain started to melt, his hips snapping against you so hard you were sure it would leave bruises in the morning. You cried out with each thrust, your moans mixing with his own grunts as the drag of cock against your walls was already becoming too much for you. Daryl's hand found its way around your throat again as he pulled you up until you were flush against his chest.

"Promise ya you wouldn't be able to walk for a week, everyone's gonna see you limpin' 'round after this. Who do ya belong to Darlin'?" He hummed against your ear, his voice was rough and broken as he spoke. He littered kisses all across your jaw, his hands roaming across your chest to grab at your breasts.

"Y-you." You stuttered out barely able to form a coherent thought anymore with the force of his thrusts against you while you drew closer to your fourth orgasm of the night. It was like each thrust pulled any of the bratty fight you'd had earlier in the night from your body.

"Who's pussy is this?" His voice was growing deeper, more possessive as he dropped a hand to tease your clit while his hips never let up their rough pace. You could tell he was losing himself in this feeling just as much as you were.

"Yours- yours Daryl - oh fuck - ah I can't - I'm gonna -" You couldn't take it anymore, Daryl making you admit out loud that you were all his sending you straight into another orgasm. You came hard, a white light exploding behind your eyes as they snapped shut, his fingers still drawing circles around your clit. You whined out, collapsing back against his chest as you tried to grab at his wrist, the feeling of his fingers against you too much for you to handle along with his cock inside you.

"That's right. Mine. Yer all mine." He growled out at the feeling of you clenching around his cock. You could tell he wasn't far behind you, getting closer to his own release as his words started to slur, his head falling to the back of your shoulder where your hair was plastered to your sweat-soaked skin. "Pretty lil' pussy just for me. Nobody else could ever fuck ya as good as this. You know ya can only get it as good as this from me. Nobody else is gonna treat ya as rough as ya need."

Daryl's arm tightened around your waist, clinging to your body as he continued to thrust into you, drowning out your moans and whimpers with sloppy, open-mouthed kisses that were mostly teeth and tongue as he fought to keep up his rhyme. No matter how much your body tried to fight it you could feel another orgasm building inside of you as each thrust hit against your g-spot.

You couldn't kiss Daryl back anymore, your mouth hanging open in a loud gasp as a heavy feeling settled in your chest, weighing down on your lungs as tears pricked at the corner of your eyes. The tension in the pit of your stomach was starting to snap again, you could feel the strain with each thrust.

"I can't - I can't not again Daryl please - it's too much - oh fuck please -" You screamed as he held you close to him, helping you ride it out as another orgasm ripped through you. Your body couldn't take anymore, going numb in his arms as the tears you'd been fighting back spilt freely down your cheeks.

"Mine." Daryl made his point by biting at your shoulder as he thrust into you one last time, the sight of you coming again and so forcefully tipping him over the edge with you. He held himself deep inside you as he came, his own breathing becoming broken against your shoulder as he held you both against the counter. He didn't trust his own legs to support your weight as well as his own as his hand ran comfortingly across your stomach. "S'okay. So good, ya did so good. Did so well for me. Fuck Darlin' yer perfect."

Once he had recovered a little more he slowly pulled out of you, cautious of just how sensitive you were now and turned you around in his arms as he reached a hand up to brush away your tears with his thumb. His lips met yours in a gentle kiss, the softest he'd been with you all day, every ounce of his previous anger now melted away. He pulled you into a tight, comforting hug as he nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck. He left a trail of light kisses across the marks he'd left on your neck earlier in the night and then cupped your face, leaning in to press a kiss to your forehead.

"Didn't mean to make ya cry. Did I really hurt ya?" He said softly, the concern written all over his face as he brushed your hair away from your face where it was stuck down with sweat. "Think I lost control a little." 

"It's okay." You reassured him with a small nod. Your body was slowly coming down at last as you clung to his chest, simply enjoying the feeling of him holding you. You pushed up on your toes to kiss him letting yourself smile into the contact as he cupped the side of your face. "I'm okay I promise. You only hurt me a little and I mean, I all but begged for that. In fact, I'm more than just okay Daryl. That was incredible, I've never felt anything like that. I need to make you jealous more often. Maybe I should flirt with Spencer next."

"I wouldn't recommend that." Daryl chuckled then, the sound was sweet but you could see that fierce look back in his eyes. "I like Rick, Spencer? I might actually break his jaw for touchin' ya."

Taglist: @azanoni @ineedmorefanfics2

[starlight-artbby]

I FUCKING LOVED THE NEW X-MEN EPISODE!!!

We got the Summers Family acting like an actual Family. I love how Kurt gave Jean the best advice like literally Kurt gives everyone the advice they so desperately need. Seeing Scott and Nathan fist bump to also gave me life. I also love when Jean talks about Maddie like I deeply believe Jean saw her as a sister but just didn't know how exactly to reach out when she went through so much.

Also can I talk about how much I love Jean being all Motherly?!?! Like telling Nathan to put on his seatbelt and putting it on for him. Then Scott also being dad and a good husband saying stuff like Nathan, Jean Run! Like ooh those two were finally acting like a family and I am so here for it.

Need more of the Summers Family I fear.

I literally hate Bastion so much already. Like how are you as a Mutant, basically getting rid of your kind? Not to mention Magneto starting war?!?! I could never blame him. Like he literally knew how ostracized Mutants would be from day one.

I also love how Kurt was ready to Kill fro Rogue in an instant. He literally would do anything for his sister and I love him for it .

Now hoo... Roberto's mother done pissed me off. So many parents would rather save face than protect their children. The hurt in his eyes when his mother didn't believe him broke my heart. Can we also talk about how Jubilee literally suicide jumped off that building even for just a second like she would rather hope she learned how to fly instead of surrendering.

I also once again loved the Cute Juberto scenes. I know a lot of people don't fuck with the relationship but I seriously love them. I think they are so cute. Also Roberto learning how to fly and practicing in the danger room! Like I loved that.

Morph was once again killing me with the jokes like not the Wolverine universe thing. I enjoyed seeing the Logan fight sequence when he was in the air and Kurt with swords was everything I didn't know I needed to see animated until that very moment.

Now Professor X done pissed me off still. Like HOW DO YOU FINALLY SHOW UP!!! AFTER EVERYTHING!!! You had the X-Men take over YOUR DREAM! And then you abandon THEM?!?! Like ughhh!!!

Good news thou, STORM WILL HOPEFULLY BE IN THE NEXT EPISODE. And maybe we will get her saving Jubilee and Roberto that would be cool.

I also hope Rogue wakes up soon. (Not to mention I loved seeing all those marvel characters especially Spiderman♡♡♡)

Also, I love Jubilee's new outfit. And the "To me my X-Men was everything. I love when they say that line. And seeing the faces?! Loved that. I am all to excited for the next episode.

[introspectivememories]

what's wrong with data analyst bernard?

summary: tim's a workaholic ceo. bernard is, to put it simply, a down-on-his-luck loser with a kid to take care of. somewhere along the line, they meet. (very loosely based on the 2018 hit kdrama, "what's wrong with secretary kim?")

A/N: for @chamiryokuroi bc this fanart has given me brainrot since the moment i saw it. but also bc, i missed writing and your art helped. i hope you like it. (more notes at the end.) (AO3 LINK)

Today is a good day, Bernard thinks happily, brand new ID badge bouncing on his tie. It's his first day at Wayne Ent. and Mori had sent him off with a hug and muttered, "have a good day, Tou-san." It's been bouncing around in his head all day. Tou-san, Tou-san, Tou-san, he's really a dad now. He's got to make sure Mori has everything he needs and this new job is going to make sure he can do that.

Shaking his head once to clear it, he takes a sip of the complimentary coffee a team member bought him for his first day. His team leader, Young-joon Lee, is taking him on a tour of the building. Young-joon is a wonderful man in his late 30s but it's very clear that he's been consumed by the office lifestyle.

"...and here is our magnificent lobby!" Young-joon is saying as he tunes back in. His team leader spreads his arms wide out as he speaks, "Everyone knows the lobby but it's my personal philosophy that making friends or at least being on amicable terms with the ground floor staff will make your life easier."

Bernard laughs politely, "I know what you mean. I can't tell you how many times being nice to the host at the restaurant I used to work at saved my butt during rush hour."

"A man after my own heart!" Young-joon says, smiling widely as he leads him to the help desk.

Bernard tilts his head up to look at the skylight. It's a gorgeous thing with little animal motifs running alongside it. It lights up the lobby bringing a welcoming feeling into it. With the sunlight pouring into the room, along with the din of busy workers in slacks running to and fro, it really feels like stepping into a movie.

Are you seeing me Darls?, he thinks with a childlike glee, hand coming up to thumb at his badge again, I made it!

"This, my friend," Young-joon says, pulling up to the help-desk, "is our wonder-duo. Tamara and Abhishek. They practically run this building. Lord knows we'd be tripping all over ourselves without them."

Tamara and Abhishek smile as they get introduced.

"They run this building?" he asks confusedly.

"You see, young padawan," Abhishek says, "not only do we help the people that come in here asking questions or for instructions, we also answer any questions the staff has for us."

"Things like, 'What's HR’s number?' or 'Can you page Data for me?' or 'No seriously, I'm calling HR on this man right now. What is their number?'" Tamara says grinning.

Bernard laughs. It feels like that's all he's been doing since he got here. "You have to tell me the story on that one day."

"Sorry," Tamara says, faux-apologetic, "the minimum clearance on that story is half-a-year. Gotta level up."

His cheeks hurt from smiling. This is his and Mori's new beginning. This is where they level up. Nothing's gonna stop him now.

"Do you know the story behind that one?" he asks, turning to Young-joon.

"Of course! But where would be the fun in telling you? You have to stay the six months and if luck comes my way, longer."

"You want me for longer?"

"Of course, I saw the way you worked during those practice problems in the interview. I had to fight the other team leaders for you. It was brutal."

"Get back I say!" Young-joon says, miming a sword fight. A pleased warmth builds in his chest; they wanted him, they wanted him!

Darls you better be fucking watching this. I'm movin' up in the world.

"Ooh, send me that footage. I wanna see our newest recruits skills," Abhishek says.

"You got the data team fighting over you?" Tamara asks, eyebrows raised, "I wanna see it—"

Whatever she was going to say is cut off by the sound of both of their pagers pinging. Immediately going stock still, they start typing on their computers.

Bernard turns to Young-joon confused but his team leader looks like nothing is out of the ordinary.

"The boss is coming." Young-joon says, like that's a reasonable explanation for two people shutting down in the middle of the conversation, "It's always quite a spectacle and they always have to notify the other execs. Just watch."

Still, the boss? Maybe Bruce Wayne will say 'hi' to him and he'll charm the CEO and Mr. Wayne can figure out a way to—

No, no. He's done making those kinds of fantasies. Nobody is coming to help. Bernard is going to figure out his life on his own, he is going to take such good care of his kid, and he is not going to wait for some rich billionaire to swoop in and take care of him. He got this far didn't he? He'll get even farther.

He and his team leader lean against the help desk sipping coffee as they wait for the CEO to come in and sure enough, a black Rolls Royce pulls up to the driveway in the front. The minute the door opens, flashes from the paparazzi's cameras start going off. Out steps a bodyguard in a black suit with an umbrella opened. From below the umbrella he sees a nice pair of brown loafers step out. The CEO seems to be wearing a navy blue suit today. The paparazzi roars and the flashes increase.

"Oh wow," a man remarks a few feet away from him, "the circus is strong today, huh?" His friend laughs.

A woman wearing red heels steps out after the CEO, the paparazzi flashes decrease dramatically. More bodyguards exit after the woman and form a square around the CEO and his assistant/secretary. They shuffle towards the entrance where he sees the elderly doormen greet the executives with a smile. Whatever they say is lost to the sound of the city but the doormen laugh and push the doors open.

Young-joon's been making small talk throughout the entrance and Bernard tries to keep up but whatever the hell is going on at the entrance is way more interesting than anything his team leader is talking about. As they enter the guards spread out and dissolve the square. The woman comes into view first, red heels with a black slacks and a white button down. She's holding a long coat in one hand and a laptop bag slung over her shoulder. She's gorgeous and clearly the one in charge, going by the way she barks orders at the guards.

Young-joon says something and he turns around to respond, grabbing his coffee cup off the desk counter. His CEO's loafers tap across the lobby's marble floor, something about it is comforting. A lull in the room's conversations causes the CEO's voice to carry over.

"...Tam, make sure the quarterly reports are on my desk by at least 4 today and make sure to push back the sales meeting by 30 minutes to an hour, the board wants to talk — Oh Mr. Bardakcı! Thank you for stay—..."

Bernard's heart jackrabbits in his chest. He knows that voice but- it can't be. It's not possible; he chose Wayne Enterprises for a reason. He's not supposed to be here. He's supposed to be at his father's company. Unless... there was a merger? No, that seems like the kind of thing the news wouldn't've shut up about. He would've known.

When was the last time you had time to sit down and read the news, Bear? Darls says inside his head

She's right. With filing for custody of Mori and graduating from college and the job search, he hasn't had time for much else. It's entirely possible that he could've missed one of the biggest mergers of the decade.

Fuck, Fuck.

He wasn't supposed to be here. Bernard was supposed to be moving on. He was supposed to be building a life for himself away from the shadows of his childhood. He was supposed to be forgetting that Tim Drake ever existed.

He has to make sure though. Turning his body around, he prays that it's not the man he thinks it is. But sure enough, there stands Tim Drake, resplendent in a navy blue suit and a golden tie.

Golden ties for golden boys, he thinks absentmindedly.

The suit fits him perfectly, stretching across his shoulders and wrapping around his waist. Even the tie looks knotted perfectly. How long did it take him to learn, Bernard wonders. He could never get it right back in high school. Does his assistant Tam do it- no, no! This is why he didn't apply to Drake Industries. Bernard can't do anything around Tim and Tim is never going to care enough about him to stay.

Tim's head seems to be turning in his direction and Bernard whips his head back to make sure Tim doesn’t even catch a glimpse of him. His hand twitches violently enough that the coffee cup falls out of his hand and spills all over the floor. The cup rattles deafeningly on the floor. Bernard can't fucking breathe.

"-ernard? Bernard!" his team leader's voice cuts through the haze in his head. Young-joon looks concerned, "Are you okay?"

He blinks slowly, "...What?"

"I said, 'Are you okay?’ You look like you've seen a ghost?"

No, Bernard thinks, seeing Darls would be preferable to whatever level of hell I've found myself in.

"I'm—, I'm fine." he says rather unconvincingly. His eyes dart back to the spill, "What am I saying? There's a large puddle of coffee on the floor. I—, I should get some paper towels for that."

"Do you have any paper towels, Wonder-Duo?" he asks, trying desperately to ignore Tamara and Abhishek's concerned looks.

"I already called the custodial staff," Tamara says slowly, like she’s trying not to spook him, "but if it makes you feel any better," she pulls out a huge stack of paper towels, "go crazy, I guess."

Bernard takes a handful of paper towels and gets to work. The cleaning is meditative and with each swipe of the paper towel, the puddle gets smaller. Bernard pretends the puddle is his feelings for Tim. Swipe, forget about the 4pm milkshakes and his laughter when Darls snorted milk out of her nose. Swipe, don't think about the way he used to smell. Swipe, he left and never looked back; you don't look back either.

The tap, tap, tap of loafer on marble is getting closer to them for some reason. Why is it getting closer? Does it not have staff meetings, market research, and people to leave behind?

"What is going on here?" Tim asks.

"Nothing much, sir." Abhishek responds, "Newbie just spilled some coffee."

Abhishek, no!

"Oh is that all? And he took the initiative to start cleaning instead of waiting for the custodial staff. You made a good choice, Young-joon."

"Thank you, sir!" Young-joon says, "I was taking him on the tour when you came in. Most newbies love the show so I thought we'd stop here for a little bit."

Tim laughs. Bernard hates that his heart still skips a beat at the sound.

A pair of brown loafers and a wool-covered knee slowly appear in his vision. Why is Tim crouching in front of him? Why won't this man leave him alone?

"This looks like quite a lot of work, let me help."

You can help by leaving me the hell alone, he thinks uncharitably.

"I hope you found the facilities to your liking," Tim continues, like he hadn't heard Bernard's thoughts, "My name is Tim Drake-Wayne, CEO."

I know, he wants to say. I know you're Tim Drake. I know you like to skateboard and that you stared at Tony Hawk's photo for an hour every day in high school ‘cause didn't want to be one of those people who didn't recognize him. I know you struggled with your dad not really being there. I know you loved Mrs. Winters as much as you loved your mom. I know that you like history more than any other subject even though your best was always math.

Bernard says nothing instead.

Tim laughs awkwardly and Bernard knows he isn't helping the conversation along but whatever, he's allowed to be petty, right?

"I assure you, whatever you heard in the tabloids and the news, isn't true. I promise I won't bite…," Tim’s voice trails off as Bernard lifts his head.

"...Bernard?" Tim whispers, he looks like he's seen a ghost.

Bernard tries for a smile, he's pretty sure it comes out looking like a grimace.

"Sir," he says nodding curtly, hands still moving to sweep up the coffee puddle.

Tim's hand reaches out to touch his face, as if to make sure Bernard is really there. Bernard recoils as Tim's hand grazes his cheek. Tim's hand hangs in the air uselessly.

"Bernard?" Tim says again, as if to make sure his eyes aren't playing tricks on him.

"That's my name, Sir," he says through clenched teeth, "don't wear it out."

He can feel Young-joon and the Wonder-Duo's confused stare but he says nothing. What would he even say, really?

Hey, this is my old friend Tim Drake? Hey, I used to know him like the back of my hand? Hey, our best friend died and it feels like I'm the only one still grieving? Hey, in my junior year, five different gangs shot up my school and my best friend died in my arms and he left and I had to pick up the pieces by myself? Hey, I'm the idiot that's still in love with Tim Drake?

The clack of Tam's heels comes as a welcome distraction.

"Tim!" she says, grabbing his arm and pulling him away, "What the hell do you think you're doing? We have to go talk to the board. Build rapport with your employees later."

Tim stumbles to his feet, "Yes, but—, I—, This is—"

He sounds like he's glitching. Bastard. Is it really such a surprise to see Bernard in a well paying job? Even Tam is starting to look a little concerned now.

"Explain later," she commands, dragging Tim behind her. Bernard keeps his head down and continues wiping up the coffee puddle. Sneaking a glance upward shows him that Tim keeps turning back around to stare at him.

For a moment their eyes meet, brown against blue. 'Bernard?' he sees Tim mouth. Bastard, saying his name so many times. Doesn't he know what that does to Bernard? Why does Tim insist on breaking his heart again and again and again? Was once not enough?

He's tired of putting these walls up and just for a second, he lets them come down. Let Tim see the entirety of his brokenness. Tim already has his heart, he can have this too.

'Tim' he mouths back, smiling sadly. Tim looks stunned and the rage that had been simmering in his gut begins to boil over.

Do you see what I've become? Do you see how thoroughly Grieves ruined me? Is this not your doing too? Why did you leave? Have you ever visited Darla? Why was it so easy for you to not look back? Was I not your friend? Or was it just a time pass? Why wasn't I enough for you to stay?

He watches until the elevator doors close, separating him from Tim once again. His body sags like a marionette cut from its strings and his fingers clench uselessly around the coffee soaked paper towels. A hand lands on his shoulder and he flinches.

"Hey, hey," Young-joon soothes from where he's crouched right next to him. When did Young-joon crouch down? How much time has he missed? "It's just me, Bernard. Are you okay? What was that? Does our CEO know you?"

He exhales shakily. He needs to get out of here. He needs to sob hard enough he throws up. He needs the steady press of a knife on his back. He needs things he's not allowed to have anymore.

Bernard shoots up so fast the world spins around him. holding onto the desk for support, he tries to smile at his team leader. It stretches across his face misshapenly.

"I'm—, I'm sorry," he says stumbling over his words in a rush to get them out, "I have to—"

He has to what? Pretend to not see Darls out of the corner of his eye? Pretend like his hands don't have blood on them? Pretend like he isn't seeing bullet wounds every time he closes his eyes?

"—go to the bathroom," he finishes lamely. Gathering up all of the paper towels, he walks away dazedly, ignoring Young-joon's calls behind him. He shoves the towels in the nearest trashcan, letting his feet lead him to the nearest bathroom.

The bathroom is thankfully empty when he enters and he locks the door behind him. Sliding down the door, he exhales shakily. There's not enough air in this room; he can't breathe. The fluorescent lights hum above their coverings. The one on the left flickers. Who's bright idea was it to install school lights in a business office's bathroom?

The world outside the bathroom rushes on too loudly. Somebody is talking about their vacation. Someone is bemoaning their presentation today. His chest is getting tighter. His hands come up to tug on his hair. Why can't he breathe?

The exhales are coming quicker and quicker. Something comes tapping down the hallway. It's the gunmen, it has to be. A quick glance down tells him all he needs to know: he's covered in blood.

It's Lila's, he thinks dazedly, I had to carry her into the office. Or no, it's Olu's. I held him when he died. He said, he said, what did he say?

Why can't he remember? He hits his head with the heel of his palm.

Think he tells himself, we have to tell Olu's parents what he said. He said—, he said—.

His body sags.

Oh now he remembers. He said, "I don't wanna die Bernard."

A whimper tears itself out of his throat and he slaps a palm over his mouth. There's blood smeared across his face now, he must look like he walked out of a slasher film. He has to be quiet. if he's too loud, the gunmen will find them and then they'll all be dead.

Cry quietly, he tells himself, Darls doesn't need—

Darla! How could he forget about Darla with a hole in her gut? He needs to get to her. Lurching forward, he scrabbles across Mrs. Castillo's linoleum floor. He's smearing Olu's blood everywhere. Why won't Nikhil stop fucking crying so loudly? Goddamn freshmen and their hysterics. Where is Tim? Is he safe? He can't lose both friends today, please Lord, please.

BANG!

A violent flinch tears through his body. He sobs audibly this time, gagging on his spit. It's the gunmen, it has to be. He hasn't even held Darls' hand or counted Tim's moles for the last time. Where are the Darls? She shouldn't be alone. She doesn't like violence like this.

"Why didn't you save me, Bear?" a voice asks from behind him.

He freezes. Slowly he turns around and nearly yells in shock. Falling back on his butt, he stares up at his friend.

(He has to be quiet, he has to be quiet, he has to be quiet-)

Darls is standing behind him still in her crop top and cargo pants. Her once smooth midsection, bloodied and warped. The bullet wound still drips blood.

Plink, plink, plink.

Bernard hates the scent of iron.

"Why didn't you save me, Bear?" she asks, her voice echoing, "I thought we were friends."

There’s blood dripping down the side of her mouth. Now he remembers, the blood on him isn’t Olu’s or Lila’s — although there is that too — it’s almost overwhelmingly Darla’s. He’s covered in it. Elbows deep in it. It streaks up his arms like a macabre tattoo. He wore a white shirt to school today. The stains will never come out. He is Carrie at the end of prom, mortified and humiliated.

He crawls backwards until his back hits the wall, the impact knocking him out of the worst of that night. He's back in the bathroom. The lights hum loudly overhead. Darla hasn’t left yet.

She tilts her head, “Why didn’t you help me, Bear? I thought we were friends.”

“We are,” he rasps out, “we are friends.”

“Are we?” her eyes have no pupils. His Darls had eyes that shone in the sunlight. His Darls is dead. “Then why am I still bleeding? Why am I still hurting? Why is there a bullet in my stomach, Bear?!”

She’s shouting by the end and he flinches. His hands can’t seem to stop tugging at his hair. The blood must’ve smeared all over it. Talk about taking strawberry blond literally.

“I swear I did everything I could Darls,” he sobs out quietly, voice cracking, “I followed all of Mrs. Castillo’s instructions as best I could. I put pressure and tied the dressing as tight as I could.”

“You thought that was enough?” she snarls, hands coming down to grip the wound. It twists grotesquely; he gags, “You think any of that matters when I’m dead and you’re still alive?”

“Please, please. You know I wouldn’t leave you to die, Darls. Please, please, please believe me.”

“Liar, liar!” she screams, blood dripping out of her mouth onto her pink LOVE shirt. It darkens as each drop hits it. Soon it’ll be completely drenched and she’ll be drowning in it. Where did his smiling friend go? “I’m dead, Bear! I’m dead, dead, dead and it’s all your fault! Why didn’t you save me?! Why didn’t you save me?!”

He keens, body curling in on itself. One hand goes down to press on his throat; he’s making too much noise. Nikhil’s just a freshman. He shouldn’t have to die just because Bernard couldn’t shut up for once in his life.

“Please,” he whispers raggedly, “I tried, I tried. I swear I tried, Darls.”

“It hurts, Bear,” she sobs. Darla’s too young to be sounding so wrecked, “It hurts so much. Please help me.”

All of sudden, it’s too much. The taste of iron sits heavy on his tongue and Darla won’t stop sobbing. His fingers fumble for his phone and he presses one. It rings once, twice and finally on the third ring does a voice answer.

“Bear?” the other side says groggily.

“Ty please, I can't do this anymore,“ he sobs.

Tyrone suddenly sounds a lot more alert, “Bear what’s going on?”

“Darla won’t stop crying and she keeps on screaming that it’s my fault she died.” he wails, “I know I should’ve done more but please, can you tell her I tried? That I stayed with her until the end? She won’t listen to me, Ty. She won’t listen to me.”

There’s a muffled yell of ‘Babe!” on the other end. “Yeah,” Ty breathes out, “I’ll tell her.”

“You put me on speaker, okay?” Ty instructs, “And you gotta tell me if she’s nodding or if she’s gone or if she said anything, alright? I can’t see her.”

“Okay,” he whispers, pulling the phone away from his ear to press the speaker button.

“You tell me when to start, Bear,” he says, voice filling the bathroom. Darla looks up from where she’s sobbing.

“You can start now Ty,” he rasps out, holding the phone out.

“Hey Darla,” Ty says, “Bear told me you said a lotta mean things about him. Stuff like, ‘he’s the reason you died’ and that ‘he never cared’. Darla, you gotta believe me when I say Bear never stopped caring. He held your hand the whole way through. Told you stories about all the things you two were gonna do once you got out of that nurse’s office. He tried, Darla, honest. I’ve never seen him as focused as when you stopped breathing and Mrs. Castillo had him give you CPR. He couldn’t stop sobbing the whole time.”

“But I’m still dead,” she says.

“But I’m still dead,” he repeats.

Ty inhales sharply, “Yeah,” he says thickly, “you are. And I’ll never stop being sorry about that. But you can’t take that out on Bear. He’s just trying to live his life.”

Darls’ face twists up like a childs, “But it hurts,” she cries.

“But—, but it hurts,” he repeats, voice hitching.

Ty curses, “Oh, fuck. I can’t do this. Babe, can you—?”

“Yeah, of course.” 

“Hey, Darla. It’s me, Jimmy from the football team. I don’t know if you remember me but I remember you. After high school, me and Tyrone ended up getting married. Somewhere between shitty weed brownies and bad college parties, we fell in love. Isn’t that nice?”

Darls nods; he tells them as such.

“We visited you after the ceremony. I hope you felt that wherever you are these days. But the point I’m trying to make is that from all I’ve told you just now, you can probably figure out that Ty and I didn’t go pro like we planned. The shooting fucked up Ty’s knee and and my arm. After the hospital stays, playing football for a whole bunch of people just didn’t sound appealing anymore. We’re high school teachers now. Ty teaches math and I teach gym. When it rains or gets cold, my arm and Ty’s knee hurts like hell. But Darla, it doesn't hurt forever. It gets better, I promise.”

“Darla,” Jimmy says, voice unusually serious, “you’re right, you are dead and it does hurt. I’m sorry, I’ll never stop being sorry. I don’t know if it’ll ever go away for you; I’m not too much of an expert on the supernatural. Ty’s the smart one, after all. But I love you, Ty loves you, Bear loves you. I hope that when it hurts the most you can use that as a balm.”

“Auntie Bea loves you too!” Ty’s mom hollers from the background, “Aunt Betty, too!”

Ty laughs wetly and Jimmy snorts, “Does that sound okay?” they ask.

Darls smiles, her teeth stained red from all the blood that built up in her mouth. Bernard misses her with an ache he feels in his bones. Darls nods.

“She nodded,” he says quietly. He blinks once and she’s gone. Where did she go? Doesn’t she know that the gunmen are still at large? She needs to be somewhere safe. He can’t lose a friend today.

“Bear, Bear, you gotta breathe. Take a deep breath for me, c’mon,” Jimmy says.

“She’s gone, Jim. She’s gone again. Why does she keep leaving?” he says, crying. His body can’t stop trembling. How long has he been here? How much time has he missed?

“I miss the cult,” he whispers, “I never had things like this happen when I was with them.”

“Yeah,” Ty snaps, “‘Cause you were high off of like 50 different pain meds ‘cause you let them whip you.”

“Ty, not helping.”

“Move over, let me talk to him."

"Hey, sweetheart," Auntie Bea's voice crackles through his tiny speaker, "I know you're tired and I know you're hurting. I know you miss the cult but you gotta breathe for me, okay? You're gonna pass out otherwise."

"I can't, I can't," he gasps out. 

"Sure you can, you just gotta tell me five things you can see. Can you list those five things for me?"

Bernard desperately tries to get his breathing under control, "The sink is dirty."

"Good, good. Anything else?" 

"The tiles need to be re-grouted."

Aunt Betty barks out a laugh. Bernard's lips twitch upward.

"Keep going."

"My pants, my white shirt, my ID badge," he rattles off.

They talk him through the rest of the grounding techniques and by the time he feels like he's in control again, he's exhausted. His eyes hurt and his throat is dry. 

"Can you tell us why you spiraled so hard, Bear? This hasn't happened in a long time," Jimmy asks.

"I spoke to Tim again," he says simply. He pushes himself up onto his feet and walks over to the sink. Setting the phone down on the counter, he grips the sink with both hands and just breathes. The Bernard in the mirror looks like he just came out of a warzone, eyes haunted, hair messed up. 

"Oh fuck," Ty says, "Where did you even meet him?"

"At my new job at Wayne Ent."

"Why would you apply there?" Jimmy asks, stressed.

"I didn't know! It's not like I've had a lotta time in the past few years to check the news!"

"Well, whatever, what’s done is done." Ty says, ever practical, "Are you going to quit?"

"No!” he says vehemently.

“No,” he repeats quieter, “Wayne has the best benefits and Mori needs that. I’ll just suck it up and try to avoid him.”

“Don’t be fucking stupid,” Aunt Betty says.

“Ma!”

“Oh be quiet Jimmy. I’ve never heard of a more stupider thing. He’s your CEO, Bear, and he knows you work there. He’s obviously going to want ‘to catch up’ or whatever. There is no avoiding him. Can you handle that?”

What can he say? Aunt Betty is right. He can’t handle talking to Tim. Even seeing Tim felt like touching a live wire. He can’t deal with another episode. Mori doesn’t need him to be fucked up, Mori needs him to be the stable adult he promised the courts he was. 

“You can’t, sweetheart,” she says softly, “you can’t handle it.”

There’s some shuffling on the other end of the phone. 

“Bear,” Ty says gently, “I love you, man. You’re my brother. Jimmy loves you, Mama loves you, Aunt Betty loves you. But you gotta start thinking about therapy.”

“I know, I know,” he sighs, “I shouldn’t’ve dragged you into this. I’m—”

Ty cuts him off with an exasperated huff, “It’s not about that Bear. I’ll keep talking to your hallucinations for as long as you need me too. Even when we’re seventy, I’ll do it for you. I don’t care about that. I care about you and I want you to be happy and healthy. I don’t want you to keep seeing Darla. I don’t want you to keep trying to scrub the blood off your hands. 

“And I know you’ve been avoiding therapy ‘cause you don’t got the money and ‘cause talking about your problems is scary but it’s not just you anymore. You got Mori now. That custody claim is going through. You can’t just avoid things ‘cause they’re hard now. You work at Wayne now; that paycheck is more than enough to set a few dollars aside each month to save up for therapy. Hell, mental health probably comes with your medical benefits. Please, Bear. If you can’t get help for you, then do it for us, for Mori. Please stop making us watch you hurt.”

Bernard exhales shakily.

“I never wanna find you the way we did after the cult, Bear. I never wanna see you in the hospital bed like that again. Please don’t do that to us, please,” Ty whispers.

Unconsciously, his hand comes up to rub at the scar left behind from the sacrifice. It stretches along the length of his sternum, jagged and rough. On good days, he can pretend that it’s a scar from a heart surgery. He doesn’t have that many good days.

Bernard presses the heel of his palms into his eyes before using his hands to scrub at his face. He’s always so tired these days.

“Okay,” he says simply, “okay.”

“Okay?” Ty asks hopefully.

“Okay, you’re right. It’s not just me anymore. Mori deserves the best and I’m gonna give it to him. And I love Tim, I think I’ll always love Tim but he clearly doesn’t give a shit about me. So I gotta make my peace with it or I’ll go crazy.”

Ty whoops, “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” he chants.

“Bear, it’s still the middle of the workday,” Jimmy says, although he too, sounds happy. Auntie Bea and Betty are muttering about a feast, he thinks. “Don’t you have to get back to work?”

“Yeah, that’s if I’m not fired already,” he mutters.

“Hey!” Jimmy admonishes, “Optimism only, no pessimism.”

“Alright, alright. I gotta get back to work now. Thanks guys.”

“Of course, we’ll let you go now. Ma wants me to tell you that we’re having dinner at your place today.”

“Aunt Betty,” he whines, “I haven’t cleaned and you and Auntie Bea are just looking for a reason to spoil Mori.”

“Absolutely,” they say, unashamed, “he’s our only grandson. We have to spoil him.”

“Fine,” he sighs but he’s smiling. Fuck, he loves these people. God knows he wouldn’t have survived the past six years without them.

“Bye Bear,” they say before he hangs up, “Good luck on your first day!”

He cuts the phone and slides it back into his pocket. Turning on the tap, he splashes some cold water onto his face. Using his wet hands, he tries to rearrange his mussed up hair into something acceptable for an office job.

Time to face the music Darls, he tells her smiling face in the mirror. She gives him a thumbs up in return.

The walk back to his office feels like a death sentence. He’s fucked this up, he knows it. Freaking out over a small interaction with his CEO and then running away only to come back two hours later? It’s over, done for. Bernard takes comfort in the fact that at least the severance package will be nice.

Stepping into the office, immediately draws the eyes of his team members. Every step towards his team leader’s office feels nerve-wracking. Just before he enters, Esperanza, the team’s second in command, stops him.

“Whatever happened,” she says, “just explain it to him. Young-joon’s a reasonable man, he’s not gonna yell at you.”

Some of the tension leaves him and he nods. Knocking on the door, he enters. His team leader looks up and smiles.

“Ah, Bernard! Why don’t you take a seat for me?”

He crosses his wrists behind his back, “I’d rather stand, sir.”

His team leader looks confused, “‘Sir’? Just call me Young-joon like I told you.”

“Anyway, after you left, I took the liberty of going through your file to see if there was anything I missed. I hope that wasn’t overstepping my boundaries.”

“No s-, Young-joon. You’re fine.”

Young-joon sighs and pushes the file he was reading before Bernard came in forward. It’s his file. 

“I’m going to say some statements,” he says, “and I want you to confirm whether it’s true or not. If any of these questions make you uncomfortable, just tell me okay? I’ll drop it immediately.”

Bernard nods.

“You went to Louis E. Grieves Memorial High School.”

“Yes.”

“Based on the dates you put in your file, you were there for the shooting.”

“...Yes. Junior year.”

“You know our CEO.”

“Yes,” he breathes out.

“How?”

He used to fall asleep on my shoulder during lunch and I would listen to him breathe. He’s got moles all over his face. Darls once connected them with a sharpie. His step-mom was so hot, I thought I’d spontaneously combust every time she smiled. HIs dad didn’t really like me and flirting with his wife didn’t help my case. The Drake condo had a crocheted flower blanket on the sofa that his mom had made during her pregnancy. He liked to skateboard but couldn’t roller-blade to save his life. I have all this love and nowhere to put it.

“It’s a little private,” he says instead.

“I’m only asking because we work quite closely with him. We see him often and if that makes you uncomfortable, then I can have you transferred to another team.”

His shoulders sag, “We went to Grieves together for one year. Our mutual friend died. It’s a little hard to look at him.”

“Jesus Christ.” Young-joon says, “Okay well the offer is still on the table, Bernard. Do you want to be transferred?”

“No, I like your team. I’d like to stay,” he says, firmly.

“Are you sure?” Youn-joon asks, eyebrows raised.

“Yes.”

“Okay then,” and it’s like a switch had flipped. Gone is his serious team leader and in its place is the man he met this morning.

“If you plan on staying,” he says smiling, “then my primary recommendation is that you use the medical benefits the company gives you to find a therapist. If you need help, the infirmary here will walk you through it.” 

Oh thank god it comes included with his medical, Ty will be overjoyed to hear that. But first, he has to ask Young-joon why he’s doing all this. Bernard knows his experience with authority figures is a little skewed towards the shitty side of the spectrum but even so, people usually aren’t so kind in his experience.

“Why are you doing this? Why didn’t you fire me? Why are you helping me?”

Young-joon chuckles, “Do you want to be fired?”

“No! But still, why are you helping me?”

Young-joon sighs and stands up. Walking around his desk, he stops right in front of Bernard. Young-joon puts a hand on his shoulder.

“This city takes a lot out of its people, believe me I know. And you were so young, when Gotham took her piece of you. It wasn’t fair of you to go through that. Just like it wasn’t fair to me and my wife when we got kidnapped as children. These kinds of things don’t go away. I still get worked up over zip-ties. My wife still has nightmares. All you can do is learn to live with it.

“You seem like a good kid with a good head on your shoulders. I’d hate to see all that potential go to waste ‘cause you kept getting trapped in your mind. I had a lot of help to get to where and who I am today. Consider this, me paying it forward. One day, I hope you can pay it forward too.”

His eyes feel suspiciously wet. “Thank you,” he chokes out, “thank you.”

Young-joon laughs, “There’s no need for the waterworks, Bernard. Now, pack up your things and go home. You’re in no state to analyze data today but I expect you here at 9AM sharp tomorrow, alright?”

Bernard mock salutes, “Yes, sir.”

“Goodbye, Bernard.”

Right before he exits, he turns around and calls out his team leader’s name.

“Young-joon,” Young-joon looks up confused, “you can call me Bear, by the way.”

A wide grin stretches across his team leader’s face, “Okay then. Goodbye Bear, see you tomorrow.”

Walking out of the office, it feels like a burden has been lifted off his shoulders. Esperanza takes one look at him and snorts.

“You just got Young-joon-ed, huh?”

His jaw drops, “He does that often enough you guys have a name for it?”

The other team members laugh, “Welcome to Data Analysis Team 1, kiddo. We look forward to working with you from now on.”

Smiling, he gathers his things and leaves after a few goodbyes. Once outside the building, the smile drops. It’s an hour-and-a-half bus ride from Wayne Tower to his house. The bus stop sits right in front of the tower too. Some new initiative by the mayor to promote the city moving towards green energy. Hey look, even rich people take the bus! What a fucking joke.

The tower warps the sunlight around it and he stares up at the top floor. Is Tim watching? Can Tim see him from up there? Does he care or was it just the shock of seeing someone he once knew this morning? Has Tim ever thought about him, about them? Or were they just moments in his life? Perpendicular lines, intersecting once and then never again.

I miss you, he thinks staring at the top floor, I miss you more than anything but I’ll walk into oncoming traffic before I ever reach for you again.

The bus pulls up next to him and he snags a seat in the back. Dropping his head onto the seat in front of him, he stares out the window. Darls smiles back at him in the window reflection, perpetually sixteen. He’s twenty-two now.

Fuckin’ hell Darls, he thinks wearily, we’re really in it now.

Darls places her hand against the glass, he leans his shoulder onto it. If he closes his eyes, he can almost feel her warmth.

We’ll make it through, she says.

The bus rumbles forward and he lets the cracked streets of Gotham lull him to sleep. He’ll make it through.

A/N: chami! i hope you like it!!! i've never gifted a fic before, i don't really know how this works. and to everyone who read it, i hope you liked it too! please leave your thoughts in the reblogs or replies!!! i miss the days when td:r was coming out and we were all collectively freaking out. anyway when i said loosely based, i really did mean loosely. props to you guys if you can figure out the direct references to the drama. but this is a one-shot. i'm not gonna be writing anything else for this 'verse? au? (god i'm always so worried im using em dashes wrong)

if you have questions or you're confused by something i wrote, feel free to ask questions or send an ask or message. oh, and i know some people like know the exact wordcount. so, it's exactly 6,785 words long. nice number right?

also, please note that if you want to make art or a podfic or hell, even fanfiction of this, feel free to do so! i hope that's not too presumptuous or anything. idk i see fanfic writers make this disclaimer all the time, so i thought i'd do it to.

thank you for reading!

[heliosthegriffin]

The Witch is overpowered, but overly sensitive to pain

"This is it, Salem!" Jaune shouts.

Ruby slices through a line of Beowolves. "We're here to take you down for good!"

"Oh ho ho, well come and try it!" Salem poses dramatically, pointing a hand at them.

Jaune moves in front of Ruby, taking a hit of magic with his shield. Ruby lowers Crescent Rose on his shoulder, aiming at Salem's heart, if she still possessed one.

Salem does even dodge the shot, a shimmering shield of rainbow-colored magic blocking it, the bullet ricocheting above her, hitting the ceiling.

The bullet hits a gargoyle on the wall, making it wobble, then fall down. It drops like a heavy rock off a cliff. It falls down right next to Salem, and she is distracted.

Ruby speeds forward and cuts through the shield with the blade of her scythe, Jaune following behing her, pushes her back with his shield, and then kick her's in the abdomen.

"OW! FUCK! Ow-ow-ow!" Salem buckles over, breathing hard. Jaune stands uneasily over her, his sword held high, but not quite sure what to do next. He looks to Ruby, who awkwardly shuffles holding Cresent Rose.

Salem falls to her knees, holding her stomach. "Fuff-ha, fuff-ah. Shit, ow." She looks at Jaune in betrayal. "What the hell, man? Who goes and does that to a lady!?"

Jaune's eyes flicker to and fro guiltily. "Um, we're fighting." "Yeah, but like a high-fantasy magic battle! Where beams go pew-pew!"

"I'm not a wizard. I don't have a gun that make pew-pew."

Salem breathes heavily. "I noticed! Ah, my dad might have put me in a tower most of my life, but nobody's ever hit me before! Ah, ouch."

Jaune looked to Ruby, who seemed to have caught a case of second-hand shame. "Ruby over there has a gun and stuff, and shoot lasers of her eyes." Jaune offed.

"Yeah, I'm used to that! It's normal to shoot and use lasers on me, but who punches a lady in the gut?!"

"Kicked. And, I mean Yang, did that to you?"

"That was a double! A body double made of Grimm Ooze!"

Jaune noticed Ruby edging out of the room, but locked her down with a meaningful gaze. Which meant, 'You helped me get into this, you're helping me get out.'.

"I was back here playing Total Remnant Destruction!" Salem moaned, balling up on the floor.

Ruby around and offered a sympathetic hand to Salem. "Hey, hey how about we start this over, and without any hand-to-hand, or gut kicks." Ruby said, giving Jaune a awakward look, which he returned.

Salem took the hand. "Ok, lets do that."

Ruby then gave a pull.

One she did too fast, accidentally giving the Witch a headbutt, causing Ruby to stumble back groaning, as she didn't have her aura up, and Salem fell back to the ground, holding her forehead.

"AH! Ozpin blowing me was less painful!"

Jaune looked at her pathetic form. "I thought that was a double? When Oscar blew up the whale?"

"I was talking about when the first time he did it! When you get blown up with magic, it doesn't it hurt, it like a weird tickle, or your leg falling asleep and then waking back up!' She accidentally bent over, causing her bruised stomach to spasm.

"Oh no, uh urg. I think I'm going to throw up!" Salem's pale face went red.

"Jaune help her!" Ruby said urgently. "She got her hair in her face, don't let it get all messy!"

"Why me?" Jaune moaned, going over to help her.

"Because out of the three of us, you have the most experience with throwing up!"

Jaune scowled, but pulled back Salem's hair, causing her to cry, "Too rough, be more gentle -urggg!" She started hurling over Jaune's boots black ichor, with little tenacles and limbs flaying about.

Jaune's gaze went dead, but continued to hold her hair back, and offer gentle words of comfort, and little rubs on the shoulder blades, promising that everything would get better.

After moving her away from the vomit, and getting rid of his Grimm-stained boots, Salem started crying into his lap, and Jaune realized with horror, that Ruby had abandoned him when he wasn't looking. Probably unable to withstand the sheer uncomfortable air that came with caring for the person you were trying to destroy mere minutes ago.

Then he heard soft snoring. Looking down, the Grimm Queen had fallen asleep. She was almost cute like this, other than the black ichor around her mouth, which he took care of with a spare hanky, which was now quickly dissolving.

Jaune quickly resigned himself to being her awhile, and took out a book he had been meaning to finish, and now seemed just as good a time as any. He put on a pair of reading glasses, and gently patted Salem's head, hoping that she'd stay asleep for a while, and while doing so, keep the world from being destroyed for a bit longer.

---

An: I always thought it would be funny if Salem had a extremly low tolerance for pain, because how much it would contrast her being normally a mostly invincible villain and being a caster type fighter, who isn't used to getting up close and personal.

[huggybearhughes43]

Will you please write an Alex Lyon smut for the Lyon girlies👁️👄👁️?😮‍💨🥹✨

Something about like him being heartbroken breaking up with his gf and where he is lost in life , and y/n who works for red wings social media team helps him out when he’s the lowest and it turns innocent but spicy in the end🥹

Thank you

Alex Lyon x Fem! Reader

Warnings- smut, raw dawgin, riding, oral (m! Receiving), rebound sex, cum swallowing

Summary- in the ask

Word count- 1.2k

I arrived to work early this morning, thinking nothing of it but to merely get more work done. I was sat in my office chair, working on the computer, when I heard the doors open and close in the distance. I glance at the clock in the corner of my computer screen and it was still an hour before the team was meant to arrive. I decide to ignore it, thinking it must be a manager.

That’s what I thought until I heard a soft knocking at my door. “Come in,” I whisper just enough for the person to hear. The last thing I expected was for Alex Lyon to walk it totally disheveled. His hair was a mess, eyes puffy, and cheeks red. I realize who it was, standing up and walking towards him. “Alex? What happened?” My hand raises to his cheek, my thumb wiping away a tear.

He clears his throat, his eyes looking everywhere but me. “She broke up with me.” He doesn’t specify a name but I know exactly who he’s referring to. I saw her sometimes at the practices and at the games but she’s never talked to the team outside of Alex. He shakes his head and places a hand over mine on his face before looking down at me. “Look, I didn’t know who else to come to… I’m sorry I bothered you.” He shakes his head and begins to retract.

“No,” I shake my head with a soft, comforting smile, “it’s okay, really. I have work to finish but you’re welcome to stay if you want.” He nods and makes his way to the comfortable couch I have in the corner of my office. I sit back in my chair and get back to work. After about an half hour my work was complete for now. I twirl my chair around to look at him and I sigh.

“Do you want me to get you anything?” I stand up and walk towards Alex. He shakes his head and a quiet “no” falls from his lips. I pinch my lips closed and sit next to him on the couch. I allow my hand to run through his hair. “Are you going to be okay for practice?” I pause, “If not, you can always stay in here with me.” My hand drops from his hair to my lap, his eyes eventually find mine. “I… I- uh, I’ll stay in here.” I smile and nod, “okay”.

Pretty much for the rest of the day Alex was cooped up in my office, scrolling through his phone while I completed the work the managers give to me. The time on my computer beep six pm, I look over to Alex. He’d been sitting on that couch for twelve hours, alternating through being on his phone, napping, and just staring at the ceiling fighting back tears. I close my laptop and move my chair to face him once again. I stand up and move to sit on one of the arm armrests of the couch.

He looks up from his phone and looks up at me. He was laying down on the couch. “It sucks seeing you like this.” I begin, “what could I possibly do to make you feel better?” He sits up without breaking eye contact. “I mean, I could buy you dinner…” I think, “I could, I dunno, anything you want I guess?” “Kiss me.” My eyes go wide and my neck snaps to look at him. “What?” “You asked what could you do to make me feel better, kiss me.” I go quiet, thinking about it for a moment. He notices the quietness and clears his throat. “Or don’t- I- I mean you don’t have to.”

I cut his paranoid rant off with pressing my lips to his. He takes a second to kiss back, clearly in shock that I did what he asked. But eventually his lips move with mine and he moves his hands to hold the sides of my face. In the heat of the kiss, I slide off of the arm rest and into his lap, straddling him. His hands move from my face, down my back, to rest on my ass. He squeezes and I pull away from the kiss, breathless. “Are you sure, Alex? I mean, will this really make you feel better?”

He looks up at me and presses a soft kiss to my lips before speaking. “Feelings don’t have to be involved… I just wanna forget.” I take in a deep breath and nod, pressing my lips back to his. The kiss was slow and thoughtful, his hands roaming all over the back of my body. I pull away and peel my shirt off of my body, tossing it on the floor. I connect our lips once again as I unclip my bra and disregard it on the floor like my shirt.

Alex moves his kisses down my jaw and all the way down to my breasts. He moves to squeeze them as he peppers kisses all over them. I tug at the hem of his shirt, silently asking him to take it off. He listens and strips it off and throwing it with the rest of the clothes. The skirt I was wearing was bunched at my waist and my panties were pulled to the side in no time. He nestled his head onto my shoulder as he pulled down his sweatpants just enough to let his hard cock spring free.

Alex moves one of his hands to rub through my folds, making sure I was comfortable and ready for him. He slowly moves to line himself up, waiting for any protest before he pushes in. When all he hears is heavy breaths from me, he moves his hands to my hips, pulling me down slowly to sit onto him. I throw my head back as he bottoms out, I allow small breathy moans to fall from my lips. His lips attach themselves to my neck to fight back his moans.

Alex’s hands move my hips back and forth on his. One of his hands fall from my hips, lower for his thumb to rub circles on my clit. “Alex…” I whine out. “I know, pretty girl, cum for me.” He whispers into my neck. My pussy clenches around him, my orgasm getting closer and closer. The band snaps inside of me and my cum coats his cock. I moan out, grounding myself by putting my hand in his hair harshly. The action of pulling his hair sends him over the edge, he pulls me off of him but before he could cum I fall to my knees.

Alex understands what I’m asking for as I stick my tongue out for him. He throws his head back as he cums. His hand jerking back and forth, making sure every drop landed in my mouth. Once he finishes I swallow and show him proof. He laughs as he pulls his sweatpants back up. I readjust my skirt and redress myself, throwing him his shirt. “Feel better now?” He pulls his shirt on and stands up. Before I can react, Alex pulls me into a hug, “Way better, thank you.”

[friendlyneighborhoodsynthezoid]

More Pirate Batch! Wrecker

One more right away, just to prove I've got the rest on the way.

Wrecker was content with his life as a dock worker. Or so he told himself, daily, while he spent long hours hauling heavy crates to and fro in the relentless wind and heat. Wrecker knew he was a strong guy, but even he was going to bed exhausted and dreading the morning that would begin the cycle of endless work once again. Until one day, he spied a strange looking visitor to the docks. A young man, maybe Wreckers age, stepped off a peculiar-looking ship, docked clumsily and with evident difficulty in a secluded corner in the pier. Wrecker would never claim himself to be the brightest sort, but to his eyes, this guy looked green. Both literally, and meta… figur… and that he looked inexperienced. The hat and coat he wore were impressive but didn’t quite fit him right. The ship was sleek and looked well armed, but it appeared damaged and shoddily repaired. And this kid stepped off the ship alone, with no visible escort or companions, and walked right past where Wrecker was gawking without even seeming to see him.

The whole of his workday, Wrecker’s thoughts kept straying to the half-hidden ship and the strange fellow who captained it. That evening, Wrecker went to it and undid the rope which held it. It was a sorry job that Wrecker couldn’t stand not correcting. With a mighty tug, the ship straightened out and drifted closer to the pier, where he fastened it more securely. Wrecker sat on the edge of the pier, legs dangling over the side and daydreaming about weaponry when raised voices caught his attention.

“Hey, you! With the silly hat!” Wrecker turned his head slightly towards the shout, not moving just yet. It didn’t pay to get involved and escalate things when it wasn’t necessary.

“Well lookie here,” a different voice added, “we’ve caught ourselves a Fett!”

That make Wrecker whip his head around, subtly be damned. Wrecker would never presume to be knowledgeable about, well, anything, but even he recognized that name. He scanned the docks until his eyes alighted on the same young man he’d noticed that morning. His carefully constructed air of confidence was cracking slightly as he took small steps back from two hulking figures lurching towards him.

“Hey, fellas, I was just leaving-” he tired, hands up placatingly.

“Yeah, right,” snorted one of the thugs- he was big and ugly, sure, but wrecker decided he could be dealt with, “you’re leaving, Fett? No way yer Jango. Not parading about with no backup and a coat that don’t even fit. You one of his brats?” he punctuated the sentence with a sharp jap of his huge finger. Wrecker’s feet were carrying him closer without any input from his brain.

The young man rolled his eyes, “I dunno about any Fett, but-” his gaze caught Wrecker’s and flashed from searching, to scheming, and finally, smug confidence, “-what was that you said about backup?” he ducked, turned and ran as the two thugs turned to find Wrecker behind them.

Wrecker gave them a chance. “You guys wanna back off and let this one go?” he asked. He meant it, too, but it seemed to Wrecker that people only ever wanted to solve problems by punching them. This suited him just fine. Predictably, the thugs bared teeth and fists, and wrecker mourned the state of peace he’d enjoyed minutes before. Oh well. It would be a short fight.

_______

 A short time later, Wrecker was sitting idly by the water, watching the sunlight play across the rippling surface of the bay. A smoky voice sounded from behind him. “Hey pal, you looking for a career change?”

“What?” Wrecker yelped and turned around to find the young captain standing over him with a calculating sort of smile. “What’re you- but who- i’m just a dock hand!” 

The guy rolled his eyes. “Right. A dock hand who just saved my stupid skin, and – I notice- pulled my ship into port with your bare hands. You, my friend, are something special.” he sat down next to him, kicking his booted feet a little. “The names Hunter Fett, and I’m looking for a crew. I could use a big guy like you. You can probably guess why-" Wrecker tried not to glance at the man's short stature- "I can promise one hell of an adventure if you join up. And a significant amount of firepower.” Wrecker’s eyes lit up, for his nickname was well chosen. Firearms and cannons were his great obsession and his best talent. Hunter smirked. “I may be short on men, but I’ve got guns galore.”

And so Wrecker's new life began.

[ner5y]

@notherpuppet's role reversal lyrics for Hazbin Hotel songs have lived in my head rent free, so I wrote my own rendition of "Ready For This"!

Looking over this again, there are noticeable areas for improvement, but this is my first time writing lyrics.

Maybe I'll make a karaoke style video to show where each syllable fits into the song!

Here's the original post this was inspired by

Alastor: Have you ever wanted something

That was so clear in your mind

That you could taste it?

Exorcist 1: (Spoken) You mean like ice-cream for a friend?

Alastor: (Spoken) Ha! No

It's a feeling like a roaring

In your heart that you could find

If you just faced it

Stand up against the fray and well,

I'll just come out and say it

For the first time in my life

I know that I am ready for this

and to that heavy thrum, I'll lead you from the front

I can't do this on my own

Throughout, history has shown

That our legends never won their wars alone!

I know the burden may be great,

But with your help, I'm sure we'll take the weight!

Aren't you tired of your power and authority so easily belittled?

Exorcist 2: (Spoken) Maybe if we just talked it out-

Alastor: (Spoken) ugh, Face it!

Those in hell will never listen,

Now's the time they feel their rotten egos crippled!

They'll find their power rippled

(Spoken) And yours tripled!

Don't you want to see those bastards set alight?

Join up now, prepare to travel

Onwards to a glorious battle!

Time to steel your nerves, jump in and join the fight!

Set all that hidden bloodlust free

Follow me

And we'll divide and conquer,

Their heads upon a stake!

Charlie: Just think of all the new friends you could make!

Alastor: (Spoken) Christ's sake…

Exorcist 1: (Spoken) New friends? I'm in!

Exorcist 2: (Spoken) Oh, woah!

Exorcist 3: (Spoken) I'm so lonely!

Exorcists: It's time now to act

They're on the attack

When they move to strike

We won't stall striking back!

We'll follow with glee

We can't wait to see

The new friends we'll meet

On this hellish retreat!

Though your lust for blood is something we abhor,

We will help you fight the fight and win the war!

Those overlords won't stand a chance against our light brigade

So we say, "hip hooray!" we will join in your crusade!

Alastor: Hey now, that's the spirit! Can we amp it up?

Vaggie: (Spoken) Oi!

Do not take their jubilation

For easy manipulation!

Alastor: But if I could take their rage and build it up-

Vaggie: (Spoken) Hey, kid!

They're no demons, but they're tough!

Alastor: Fair enough…

Alastor and Vaggie: We are forever thankful for your bravery and aid!

Exorcists: We can't wait to meet the new friends we'll have made!

Alastor: (Spoken) oookay…

For the first time in my life,

I'm going to be ready for this

Ready to be their marshall, leading the parade

They're quite affable, I know,

But I'll help their rage to grow!

Until they're an army ready for the fro!

Though not the most intimidating,

I can help them fix their sorry state!

Vaggie: They're dancing along

They're singing his song!

Charlie: Surprised? Why, I knew he could do it all along!

Vaggie: although his motivations are a little harsh…

Charlie: His confidence will surely help him lead this march!

And I will be the one to heal him of his blight

Vaggie: Fine I'm in!

Charlie and Vaggie: Stick with him, he will surely see the light!

Exorcists and Alastor: For the first time in our lives

We know that we are ready for this!

Exorcists: We'll show them their most righteous battle yet!

Exorcists: We will gladly lend a hand!

Alastor: I will finally take a stand!

Against those sinners and their deadly threat!

All: We'll be the victors in this war

And once it's over, we'll restore

Authority, we're ready for

War!

Alastor: I really hope that they're ready for this…

[letsgofoletsgo]

To Rekindle a Soul

This fic was inspired by the Vox Machina episode Those Who Walk Away. It was one of my favorite episodes, of season two, and I wanted to write something similar with BG3. Hope you enjoy!

TW: Death/revival, angst ~

“Karlach! Get up here now!”

The urgency of Gale’s voice made Karlach’s stomach sink. She could hardly remember ever hearing his voice with such a tone, let alone directed at her. Immediately she bounded to the rope secured at the entrance of the pit, climbing out so swiftly it was as if she was narrowly avoiding her death. Instinct left no time for her imagination to fill the gaps, pressing onward with haste. Her claws sunk into the stone of the temple as she pushed herself upward. 

“Gale, what’s happened, I-”

For the first time, Karlach felt her engine threaten to stop.

A few feet away lay Rivera. Cradled in Halsin’s arms, the rest of the team gathered around him. He lay unmoving, limp, lifeless. Frightened shouts, pleads, and demands echoed within the chasm, panic and severity overwhelming the air as time seemed to warp. Shadowheart trying any spell she could, desperately asking the druid what could be done. Astarion, in a rare moment of concern, yelling at Gale to do something, Gale snapping back fervently that he doesn’t know what he could do. 

It all fell silent to Karlach as she bounded over to him, leaving a singed trail in her wake. 

“RIVERA!!!”

She bellowed as she fell to the ground, snatching his body from Halsin’s grasp, stray embers landing and fading against his body. Her gaze, blurred with tears and horror, flicked over Rivera’s face, feeling utterly sick to her stomach as his glassy eyes stared into nothingness. Her engine clacked violently, steam pouring from her vents, fueling the wildfire that leapt from her back.

“No! No no no! Rivera, please! You can’t- not like this-!” A disfigured string of pleads and cries fell from Karlach’s mouth, desperately wrapping her body around Rivera’s, clutching him into her chest. 

In a moment, a fun-loving, curious, vibrant life was gone. The fellow tiefling that ended up becoming Karlach’s everything. The first hug she received in a decade. The best thing that had ever happened to her, her best friend, her lover, her twin flame- ripped from her embrace just like everything else in her life. 

Gone. 

“Wait-” Halsin said suddenly, “A revival rite!” 

Everyone looked at him. A glimmer of hope had emerged, but there was little time. 

“Wh- A resurrection ritual? I’ve never done one of those before.” Shadowheart admitted. 

“Yes, it’s complicated, but it's his only chance.” Taking his staff, Halsin began to dig runes into the ground, precise even in his hurried motions. 

As Shadowheart went to help him, Gale approached Karlach’s side, kneeling as close as her searing heat would allow. 

“Karlach, look at me.” He said, voice stern with necessity. 

She moved her head just slightly, tears burning away from her lashes as she barely locked eyes with the wizard.

“We’re going to try a resurrection ritual, but we’re going to need him in the spell circle.” 

Gale knew he’d need to be gentle in order to pry Rivera from Karalch’s arms. He seemed to get through to her, grip loosening as Halsin tenderly collected him. However, instinct and emotion tore through as she reached for him once again, almost growling at Halsin. Lae’zel swiftly positioned herself between them, bracing against Karlach’s burning skin. 

“If you want your mate alive, listen to him.” She snarled, laden with solemn concern. 

Karlach remained still. Flames barely contained, shuddering breaths fighting against her roaring engine. She sat in a daze as the ritual commenced, magic flowing from Halsin and Shadowheart’s palms to create a golden capsule. The group’s voices became indistinguishable as Karlach stared forward, hardly able to think, wishing this was a horrible nightmare she could wake up from. 

And then, Karlach noticed. She couldn’t hear their voices anymore. It appeared as if the group in front of her had been frozen. 

She could hardly process it before something caught the corner of her eye. Her attention being torn from Rivera after what felt like hours, now witnessing something otherworldly taking form across the room. It looked like a tree growing before her eyes, green and black magic seeping from its skin as it took shape. Its roots melded into legs, its branches wove into arms. A wooden crest emerged where the canopy would be, curling around a glowing energy. The being now appeared humanoid, donning armor made of bark. Its skin was a vibrant green, casting a warm glow that alleviated the darkness around it. 

Karlach remembered. 

Rivera’s patron. Lord Oberon. 

The ruler of the Fae that he spoke of with such reverence. The king of beasts he had sworn loyalty to, that he had vowed to protect. The being he worshiped like a cleric does their god, he viewed him as salvation, meaning, purpose. It was something Karlach never quite understood, but respected. 

Now, the Green Lord was among the mortals. The death of his champion rippled across realities, beckoning his presence to the Material Plane. He approached Rivera slowly, moving like a great oak swaying in the wind. Oberon towered over his corpse, eyes masking an emotion that Karlach couldn’t place. He brought his hand forward, lowering an outstretched finger to the capsule. As if it were a brittle husk, the capsule broke from a single touch. Oberon then turned his hand, lifting it upwards. Beckoning the body. 

From his chest, it began to emerge. The culmination of Rivera’s soul, blue and ethereal and so fragile compared to the Fey’s near godly aura. Oberon lifted him slowly, standing as an otherworldly reaper ready to escort a soul to the next life. 

Karlach, however, was not ready to watch her life be taken from her once more. 

“Take me instead you Fey bastard!”

Oberon turned to her. The words flew hastily from her mouth, but she showed no remorse as she glared up at him. Karlach felt like her own soul was out in the open, like she was begging for her own life. At that moment, she saw no difference. Broken, burning, crying before the king of the Fey, all she wanted was for him to understand, to give Rivera another chance like he had given her. 

The lord raised his other hand, focusing on the tip of his finger. From it, an orange energy began to glow. It took the form of a small butterfly, marigold wings standing stark against the dark brown of Oberon’s armor. He watched as it flew from his hand, a candlelit beacon through the murky chasm. It approached Karlach, unphased by her radiating heat, and landed on her forehead. She could feel her skin buzzing from its touch, but it wasn’t unpleasant. The butterfly’s warmth felt different from her own, it felt safe, comforting. 

The sensation then began to spread down her face, down her neck, and into her body as the butterfly seemed to melt into her. It was electric, mesmerizing. The energy collected into her engine, calming the metallic clang that Karlach could barely hear. She felt some kind of tug from her chest, something weaving itself within her non-living core. 

The next thing she knew, the glow had faded into the usual red combustion of her engine. Its scorching intensity returned, but it felt… shifted, somehow. Like someone had just slightly realigned the device within her chest. She looked to Oberon, hoping for some answer, some meaning to what had happened. His expression remained unreadable as he remained for a moment. Words failed Karlach as the Lord began his retreat to his own realm, the same green light pouring from his bark as the ground engulfed him. His eyes remained on her, a weighing sense of divine promise as he disappeared. She expected the same light to overwhelm her senses, to drag her to the Feywilds along with him as payment for her lover’s life. 

If that’s what it took, she was ready. 

And yet, Karlach opened her eyes. Still sat in the chasm. Still breathing. 

Her mind was a blur. Her body felt disconnected from her mind, images and sensations flashing across her memory with no rhyme or reason. She tried to remember. To remember a dream, a prophecy, a message delivered in the thick fog of a sunrise. The stifling dread, green and blue, the feeling of electric warmth on her skin…

Then, a sound caught her ear. Karlach focused forward, recognizing her companions huddled around each other. Shaky smiles and soft, relieved voices now filled the room. 

In Halsin’s arms, there was Rivera. Alive. 

Karlach felt the euphoria of her escape from Avernus a thousand times over as her body moved on its own accord. Rivera’s wonderful blue eyes finally met hers as he came to, groggy and disoriented, but living all the same. He could hardly ask what happened before Karlach wrapped him in a powerful embrace, nearly knocking Halsin backwards in the process. He simply smiled at them, eyes heavy with happiness and relief as he muttered his thanks to Silvanus.

“... Karlach?” Rivera managed from her crushing arms. 

Karlach loosened her grip just slightly, face glowing as his voice graced her senses. “Hey, ‘sokay, you’re alright now, it's all okay.” Her voice wavered in her gentle whispers. 

“Where… What happened?” 

“Doesn't-” she fought back a hiccup, “Doesn’t matter. You’re safe, you're okay, it's gonna be okay.” 

Karlach kept on, reassuring her own nerves as well as Rivera’s. In the whirlwind she had just endured, she had finally found the eye of the storm. Safe in her arms, alive and well. To her, in that moment, that’s all that mattered.

And she would do whatever it took to keep it that way.

~

Taglist: @ramblyships @ava-ships @gay-selfships @candyheartedchy @fritzyships @self-shippy @hellfirenacht @blorbosfrommyhead @little-miss-selfships @skipper-self-shipper

(DM me if you want to me added or removed)

[windsweptinred]

@maelstroms-blog and @remolinop I promsied you a wee Eternity short from Metamorphosis. So here it is, full to the brim with fluff. 💖😅

A cool night breeze drifted gently into the nursery through the open casement windows. 

Within an ornate oak cot, engraved with beasts, both fantastical and nightmarish in form, a tiny hand reached upwards, grasping at the air with glee. The gust swept down, caressing the little fingers lovingly, then withdrawing with reluctance, drawing back to skies with a  silent promise to return. 

A small babe, just past his first year of life, staggered clumsily to his feet. Toddering  to the bars of his cot, little fingers grasped tight upon the railing for support, looking towards the night sky longingly. Stepping on wobbly tip toes, he stretched his right hand towards the window, left clutching a small blanket of raven feathers possessively to his chest. "Ma-mi?" He called questioningly into the air. Above, two stars flared brightly down upon him and a great, beaming smile spread across his face. His little feet, stomping excitedly against the soft mattress. 

So enthralled was he, he missed the soft, swirl of sand materialising on the corner of the room, and the pale figure who stepped forth from it, tread quiet and considerate of the occupants within. 

"Do you not wish to visit my kingdom tonight little brother?" A soothing voice enquired. 

The young boy turned abruptly, swaying slightly on his unsteady legs as he did. Three teeth flashing proudly in a wide grin as his clapped his hands together with glee at the sight before him. 

" Deeam! " He cried, reaching now for the new arrival enthusiastically, chubby fingers curling in a grabby motion. Luminous, gold irises dancing and twisting in loops and figure eights on dark eyes at the sight of his older brother. 

Two slender hands reached down, carefully lifting the child and blanket and cradling them to his chest. "Why do you not sleep tonight Etie?" Dream asked. Fingers carding through the boys' silky black locks.

Little hands waved once more towards the open window. "Ma-mi" He called again. 

Dream looked through the frame to the night sky, blazing with unrivalled beauty over the rooftops of London. He reached out in greeting, feeling a wave of love sweep over him in return. 

"He will be back soon, Eternity. He crafts a new galaxy into existence tonight. Is that not exciting?" 

In answer, the young Endless shoved his blanket into his mouth, gumming at the dark, iridescent feathers with determination. 

Frowning slightly, Dream pulled at the blanket, releasing it from his brother's mouth with a soft yank and trail of drool. Earning an angry cry and teary eyes in response. 

"Be careful, Eternity." He scolded gently. "This belonged to your big brother. You must treasure it." 

Tubby legs swung and kicked as the littlest Endless looked at his brother thoughtfully. 

"Pffffiieeess?" He asked. 

Dream smiled indulgently, sitting his baby brother back upon his tiny mattress. "That's right, Orpheus. He wraps about you while you slumber and keeps you safe and warm. Are you not lucky?"

Eternity bounced on his bottom enthusiastically, smile, a carbon copy of his father's, "Cat Deeem?" He enquired loudly. 

Dream shushed him calmly, staring at the antique Elizabethan bassinet, engraved with songbirds, which stood opposite the cot. Within, a baby, only shy of newborn, with a riot of minute auburn curls already sprayed about her head, slept soundly. 

"Be careful Eternity, do not wake your sister. Euphoria plays in fields of Fiddler's Green. Do you not wish to join her?" 

"Cat, cat, cat!" The boy demanded, swaying his little arms too and fro as if to emphasise his point.

Dream raised a white eyebrow, unimpressed at his display. "I have duties to attend to, little brother." 

Eternity's little mouth formed a familiar, forlorn pout, eyes wet in a tiny replica of his mother's hard done by expression. 

Dream sighed, knowing the fight was lost. 

"Only until Mother returns," He warned sternly. And with a slight shift in the air, where once had been a fair young man, now a large white cat, hair long, thick and soft, sat upon the cot mattress. 

With a loud, rumbling purr it sauntered gracefully towards the child. Rubbing itself around the boy as he squealed in glee, clutching at the white tufts of his fur eagerly. 

Kneading happily at the soft bedding below, purr all the louder, Dream graced Eternity's forehead with a single, tender lick. Before settling demurely, legs tucked under himself, letting out a yawn, fangs glistening in the moonlight. 

The baby boy followed suit, little mouth wide as he yawned, snuggling into his brother's fluffy belly, a contented smile upon his lips. 

A few hours later a second form would materialise within the room in a cloud of starlight, long robe awash with magnificent, multicoloured nebula. Behind him, two owls came to perch elegantly upon the sill, as he gazed adoringly into the cot. 

"Dusk, relay a message to Lucienne in the Dreaming." He instructed quietly. "Tell her, Lord Daniel rests, safe and well in our care and will return to her in due course. In his absence, might she send Matthew to watch over my children's dreams?" 

He gave one last glance to the occupants of the cot as Dusk disappeared with a great waft of her wings. Little Eternity, head nestled into his brother's furr. Dream, head propped upon his baby brother's head in peaceful slumber. He checked next upon his daughter, green eyes, so like Dream's, closed tight in sleep. Little body curled up blissfully in her brother Robyn's lovingly restored oak cradle. 

With a quiet whisper to Dawn to keep watch over them, he took in his children one last time. 

"Sweet dreams" He wished them tenderly, before exiting the room to seek out his husband. 

Thank you to @danimydear (I hope I've linked the right blog there 😅) For the suggestion of Euphoria for Eternity's sibling. I loved it as it fills the gap left by Delight perfectly. I really liked Entropy and Evolution too... I sense the second coming of the chaos twins!

If you've got any more mini promots from the Metamorphosis verse you'd like me to tackle, feel free to send me them. 😊

[star-quill]

ok but country rockstar!peter who's engaged, but he's not happy. he thought proposing would make everything better, that it would fix things. but it didn't. they're still having problems. but he can't call off the marriage, it's not good for his image. they act all loved up on red carpets and at award shows and everyone just assumes everything's fine. even if he wins an award, he has to act happy, thank his fiancée in the speech and she pretends to be happy for him, but this is just another thing for him to gloat about. they act fine in the cab ride home, but as soon as the door shuts, they're arguing.

arguing about the award, the event, then it turns to arguments about their relationship, the proposal, the engagement, the wedding.

"well is there even going to be a wedding? because if this is life with you, i don't fuckin' want it.."

"this is it.. for life.. you know that.."

"just.. can we stop this and just go to bed, i'm fuckin' exhausted, honey.."

he hasn't called her honey in so long, it felt like a sting at the back of his throat when he said it.

he wakes up the next day to a call from his manager asking to come to the studio. he grumbles and says he'll be there in an hour. when he arrives, he spots you sitting at reception and smiles. he's about to speak to you when his manager walks in.

"hey.. great timing.. needed you to come in and give a tour.. we got a newbie.."

he extends his hand towards you and peter just nods, letting you stand up and walk towards him, shaking his hand and introducing yourself.

"alright.. well.. have at it, i'm in meetings all day so.. i'll see you later, pete.."

peter just nodded, turning to you and smiling. he walked you through the building, showing you the meeting rooms, the recording booths and the editing suites. he kept asking you questions about your music knowledge, your career and most importantly, yourself.

"well i grew up with country music.. then i started singing 'round the house and.. here i am.. it's nice to know i'm on the same record label as you.. got someone i can look up to.."

"you don't wanna look up to me.."

"why not? you're talented, you've got loads of awards, and your fiancée is so pretty.. you've got like, the perfect life.."

"sweetheart.. it ain't perfect.."

you both walked through the building until he made it to the canteen, making the both of you a coffee and taking you to a table to sit for a bit.

"but.. you were like.. so loved up yesterday.."

"yeah.. then came home and had three different arguments.. we fight all the time at home.. that's why i proposed.. i thought it would fix everything.."

"but it didn't.. i'm so sorry.."

"don't be.. we even tried a marriage councillor.. that shit was worse.."

"sometimes people just aren't meant to be.."

"yeah.. anyway.. what about you? you all loved up?"

"me? no.. i did have a boyfriend in 10th grade but.. we broke up after a week.."

"ouch.."

"yeah, well.. boys will be boys.."

he just laughs and smiles.

"men suck.. i'll tell you that.."

you take a sip of your coffee and smile, looking at him while he does the same.

when you both finished your coffees, he walked you back through the building to reception. he turned to you with a smile.

"i haven't got anythin' else i need to do for the rest of the day.. so.. if you need a ride anywhere.. i got my truck.."

"oh.. i was just gonna go home.. if that's ok?"

"absolutely.. c'mon, let me take you home.."

there was just something about him driving that got you riled up. the way his hand gripped the wheel, his other hand tapping along to the beat of the song playing over the radio. you kept getting urges to kiss him but you had to remind yourself he was engaged. even though he had problems at home, you weren't about to be a home wrecker.

he pulled up outside your apartment complex and got out, jogging round to the passenger side and opening your door for you.

"m'lady.."

you just smiled and coughed up a laugh.

"hey.. i'm trying to be gentlemanly.."

"oh is that what that was.."

he just frowned at you and you smiled.

"well, i'll see you another time, hopefully?"

"yeah.. yeah.."

he walked round to his side, watching you go up to your door. he waited a while and then saw you at a window, waving to him. he waved back, smiling before getting into his car and driving back home. he knew there'd be an argument when he got home, but he really couldn't care less. for the first time in his life, he was truly happy. then the realisation hit him. he was happy because of someone else. he feels like he's cheated on his fiancée, not physically, but emotionally. you and peter just clicked so well, he's actually looking forward to seeing you again. for a second he thinks about turning the car around, going back to your place and kissing you, but he couldn't, he shouldn't. now he's parked up outside his house and he realised he never stopped thinking about you the whole drive home.

everything is fine at home for the rest of the day. then he goes to sleep in his own bedroom, having not slept in the same bed as his fiancée since they got engaged. he drifts off to sleep and there you are, looking so pretty. you're flooding every thought he has and he jolts awake, sweat dripping from his body. and he's hard.

shit.

he needs to get laid and he needs to get laid quick. he gets up, throws a t-shirt on and walks across the hall. he's about to knock the door and wake his fiancée up, but he stops himself. he feels himself walking downstairs and out to the front door. then he slips into his car and drives off, back to your place. he walks up to the front door, finds your name and presses the buzzer. he steps back and looks up, seeing your light come on. after a while, you open the main door to him, still looking half asleep.

"it's like.. two in the morning.. are you ok?"

"i need to get laid.."

"what?"

"i.. i had a dream.. about you.."

"pete.. you're engaged.."

"i don't care.."

"we can't do this.."

"but you want to.. i noticed you when i drove you home.. you were itching for it.."

you knew it wasn't right, but now you were dragging him in and up to your apartment, sitting him on your couch before you sunk down onto his lap. your hands cupped his neck as you leaned down and kissed him, feeling his hands slide up under your t-shirt to grip your waist. you felt him smile against your lips and you pulled away, only to be met with a frown.

"why'd you stop?"

"you were smiling.."

"i ain't kissed anyone like that in so long.. felt so good.."

"mmhm?"

"mmhm.."