#first of all dick needs to be shot out of the fucking sky

[starlooove]

Whoever said batfam was getting too chummy ur right. I want them to stop being happy now sorry

[kookiecrumb]

Too Big.

cw: adult content (18+), smut

pairing: Jungkook x Y/N

wc: <1000

tags: light smacking, it hurts for like a second, graphic language, looooove (bf!jungkook), one shot, short fic, unbetaed, written in about an hour, bigdick!jungkook, idol au

summary: you fly out to meet your boyfriend after being long distance for a while and to do something special for the first time.

a/n: here!

~

You had to put it out of your mind that it was going to happen tonight.

After what felt like a lifetime of waiting, Jungkook was finally going to be right in front of you, completely naked, looking at you in a way that you’ve never experienced before.

Before all that, though, you needed to get picked up from the airport, arrive at his place, shower, and have something to eat.

The flight was excruciating to say the least. Your knees poked into your chest, practically, as you tried not to think too hard about how you were forced into invading your fellow passenger’s personal space by the stupid cabin engineer’s greedy design.

Whatever. It will be over soon and you’ll be up and out of this flying metal tube in the sky in a little over an hour.

You tried not to wince as you reached down for your bag to pluck a bag of seaweed snacks from one of the side pockets. They only charge so much for food at the airport because they know you don’t have any other option.

What are you gonna do? Pick up your car from the overnight parking garage two miles from the airport, drive all the way to the closest McDonald’s, repark your car, walk back to the airport and go through TSA again, all in time for your flight?

Ridiculous.

You’ve never been able to properly sleep on airplanes, so for the rest of the way to Incheon, you delicately balanced your tablet on the sad excuse of a cabin tray and watched your downloaded episodes on Netflix.

Sarah Jessica Parker was so hot back in the day. Retrospectively, though, Kristen Davis was criminally underrated in the earlier seasons. You crossed your arms and waited for the plane to hit the ground running.

—

You had this idea that you were hard to make cum. You weren’t able to do it when taking a dildo, so you figured it would be difficult for you to cum on Jungkook’s dick. No big deal. That wasn’t really the point, anyways.

Not only did you cum on Jungkook’s dick, you were able to several times while he was still inside you, pumping and smacking his hips against you in missionary position as your legs pinned his thighs, bucking upwards to take in as much of him as you physically could.

He’d hold you in his arms and look down at you with his long hair. He would look kind of cute at this angle if he didn’t have such a determined and almost fierce look on his face while he pushed on your thighs to get you to give a little bit.

He fucked you shallow. He methodically placed your hands beside your head to make sure they were out of the way of his arms, pressing into the mattress to offset his harder thrusts.

!!

That’s when you felt a sharp pain deep in your gut. “Ow!” You chirped.

“Ow?!” Jungkook echoed, alarmed. “What? Did I hurt you?!” He pulled away, breathing heavily. Jungkook was kneeling on the bed, a look of concern washing his face as he postured his cock with his right hand.

“I’m not sure…” you frowned. “What happened?”

“I was just getting all the way in. Was that not comfortable at all?”

You glanced down at Jungkook’s cock. Fully hard, he was almost 8 inches long. On top of that, he had exceptional girth. He was just a little bit bigger than the dildo you had at home.

In fact, it was that very dildo that he gifted you to practice with one day that felt so small compared to him in actuality.

After a while of no response, Jungkook added: “It felt really good. I couldn’t really get all the way in until just a second ago and that’s when you said ‘ow’.”

“I think you might be just a little bit… too big,” you hesitated, surprised at the reality of things.

“I’ve heard it before. I’m sorry for hurting you.” Jungkook said, a tinge of disappointment in his voice.

“It’s okay. I still think you’re really hot. Do you think you could help me take your size?” You ask.

“Yeah. Of course. We can do it together. Here. Let me try from the side or back,” he prompts, shifting around so that he is almost spooning you.

He moves your leg over his side and uses his thumb and index to very lightly graze your labia to find your vagina.

He’s found it.

His fat tip splits you as he dives into your sweet and tight intimacy. He scoops your arms up so that your back lay flush against his chest and nips your ear between his teeth. “Is that better?” He puffs, an intoxicated smile spreading on his tender lips.

“Yeah~” you sigh, throwing away every unrelated thought out the window as you took in every drop of sweet fucking that he was giving you.

“Good~” he groans. His hands settle down on your hips as he bottoms out on you, tangibly snug against your cervix. He thrusts experimentally, rolling in.

Again, he rolls in and firmly pressed the tip of his cock against your cervix, his large hands cupping your hips.

“Fuck— Babe,” you whine. “More—“ was all you can manage.

“More?” He teases, pulling out just to smack back into you. His arms catch you in a close embrace as he screws your tight pussy. He fucks you with his leg over your thigh, curving his long, thick cock into you in a strict rhythm.

Not missing a beat, he spreads you on the bed and digs his knees into the mattress. He is now over you, his cock shifting inside of you. “That good?” He asks briefly.

“Mhm,” you insist, your head turned against a large and fluffy pillow.

Holy fuck was this an amazing view. Jungkook balanced on one hand to quickly jiggle your ass and smack it lightly, moaning at the sight. He wanted to bury his face in your cunt and suffocate in your thighs. The idea of being able to fuck you like this with his fat cock made him want to—

“Fuck! Y/N, you’re so hot,” he mumbled as he picked up the pace, his balls slapping against you.

Your mind was in a daze. There was nothing you could focus on expect the deep, pleasurable, satisfying sensation of your boyfriend filling you. His skin felt like soft warm sand on a beach, his languid thrusts milking every bit of delectation from your body.

You swell and contract around him, constricting his cock inside of you, which earns you a drawn out groan from Jungkook. He huffs.

Without much warning, your orgasm rolls over you. Jungkook staggers and rips out a soft, exhausted groan as he cums inside of you.

—

He kisses your cheeks and lips, turning you towards him. His forehead rests on yours. “I love you. I love you very much,” he says. “I will never ever hurt you. If it hurts again, you need to tell me.”

~

fic tag: @silversparkles11 , @lvoekook @sammy-steve-btsarmyakasammy, @kooliv @koobsessed @angelwonie , @hoseokgrecns , @bangsterz @swyseren, @sxtaep , @koostarcandy @hgema , @jjkeverlast, @nglmrk @devilsbooksworld @saweetspoiled , @exactlyfuriouscoffee and @unicornbabylover

[theemporium]

“You’re shitting me, right?”

“Nope.”

“Max—”

“What?” 

“You have your own jet. How the fuck are you not a part of the mile high club?”

Max frowned a little before shrugging. “It isn’t exactly my priority when I’m on a plane, schat.”

There were many perks you learnt that existed as a Formula One driver after you found yourself in a relationship with two of the best drivers in the world. From invitations to countless exclusive events to brand deals with high-end designers, from travelling the world for their job to having a comfy paycheck to be the best of the best. It was a whole new world your boyfriends introduced you to, and it never failed to make you head spin no matter how long you had been dating them.

But the materialistic perks were some of the easiest to spot—the prime example being the fact Max had his own jet that he travelled in when he flew around the world for the different races.

It had been another one of those races that you were currently flying out to. It had just been the three of you for the long haul flight and the boys had been trying everything in their power to stay awake for a few more hours so they wouldn’t fall victim to horrendous jet lag by the time they landed.

You had decided to try passing some time with games. But UNO was quickly abandoned when Lando kept trying to wind Max up with ‘+4’ cards. And ‘truth or dare’ was a bit pointless when you were stuck in the sky. You didn’t really want to start a full ass game of Monopoly (or question why in loving fuck one of the boys brought it in the first place), otherwise you’d be fast asleep before either of them. And every round of ‘two truths and a lie’ lasted less than a few seconds because you knew each other well.

You were left with a game of ‘never have I ever’ but it slowly stopped being a game, and somehow became some weird competition between the boys to try to outdo one another. Which, to be fair, was very amusing for you to watch. 

Until Max had dropped the bomb on you and Lando that he had never had sex on a plane. Ever.

“But,” you paused before gesturing to the plane around you. “You have the perfect setting!”

“The setting is always a plane,” Max stated bluntly. 

“Yeah but usually you’re both locked in a little bathroom, trying to be quiet and not break anything because you’re literally fucking in a box,” Lando jumped in.

Max shot him a look.

“Hey, just talking from experience,” Lando said as he lifted his hands. 

“But you have the whole fucking jet to yourself,” you continued. “You could fuck as much as you please! In any position you want!” 

He raised his brows in amusement. “Thought about it a lot?”

“Yes,” you replied without a moment of hesitation. “You don’t think about fucking us on a plane?”

“It isn’t the first place my mind goes to,” Max confessed with a shrug.

Lando’s eyes narrowed slightly, as though he was lost in thought. “Do you wanna fuck us on a plane?”

Max paused. “Like right now?”

“We need to preoccupy ourselves,” he said with a shrug of his shoulders, trying to bite back the grin that was growing on his lips. “I can think of a few things we could do.”

Your grin matched his, a glint of mischief in your eyes. “What do you say, baby? Wanna join the club?”

“We’ll teach you the ropes,” Lando added teasingly. 

Ten minutes. The teasing and the taunting and the goading lasted all of ten minutes before Max had you both wrapped around his finger. Because despite your big mouths and all your talk, it took one glance and a hand tugging your hair back before you were putty in Max’s hands, ready to comply and obey with whatever he wanted because he always seemed to be in control.

“Is this what you wanted, schat?” Max groaned as he gripped your hips, bouncing you back on his dick at the speed he desired. His cock was deep inside you, pressing against the spot that made you squirm and moan—though your mouth was otherwise preoccupied. “Wanted me to fuck you on my private jet? Wanted to show my staff what a fucking slut the two of you are?”

“Shit,” Lando whined, his hands tugging on his curls as his cock hit the back of your throat. “Max—”

“Hold it,” Max gritted out, his hands tightening on your waist as his chest heaved with soft pants. “Did I say you could come?”

“But—” Lando started, only to be cut off by his own moans.

“I said no,” Max huffed out with a shake of his head, his chin tucked into his chest as he watched the way your greedy pussy took his cock with such ease. The debauched noises echoing through the cabin only seemed to egg him on further. “Don’t be a fucking brat.”

“Please,” Lando cried, his hips bucking up into your mouth as you gagged and choked.

“Both of you are so fucking impatient,” Max grumbled as he squeezed the fat of your ass. “So quick to brag and cry. And now look at you. Two fucking whores.”

“Just for you,” Lando muttered out breathlessly. 

“Of course you are. All mine. All fucking mine.” Max groaned, his voice low and rough as he felt a rush of pleasure run down his spine. “And mine to fucking control. You come when I say you come, and I don’t think either of you deserve it yet.”

You whined, the sound muffled and pathetic with Lando’s cock down your throat, but it was enough to warrant a slap to your ass. 

“Careful, schat. Or I won’t let you come until the plane lands.”

.

[topguncortez]

I Remember Everything - J. Sersin

whumptober masterlist || previous day

prompt: unhealthy coping mechanism

synopsis: In the aftermath of a crash, Jake tries to remember what happened, but unfortunately, he has picked up some new habits along the way

warnings: character death, grief, mentions of drinking, unhealthy ways of coping, brain injury, memory loss

word count: 1.4k

“Hey this is Y/N, sorry I can’t come to the phone right now. Please leave a message and I’ll get back to you as soon as possible. Bye!” 

The Hard Deck was a bustling place for a Friday night. The local retirees who lived on base usually came out for an early dinner followed by a drink or two. Sailors who were docked at port wanting to get a jumpstart on their weekend, before they got back underway. And the TopGun recruits, who knew that for the next ten weeks they needed to have the utmost focus and eliminate all distractions, spending their last night of freedom at the homey bar that the Navy liked to call home. 

Jake had gotten to the Hard Deck before any of his crew did. He didn’t even bother to change out of his khakis, wanting that first sip of cool amber liquid to soothe the ache in his head he’s had all day. Ever since the accident, he hadn’t totally been himself. The doctor had said it was a concussion, giving him a short-term profile before sending him back up to the sky. But others, mainly Phoenix and Bradley, were convinced that they had missed something. They knew that concussions can have serious side effects, but they didn’t know that they could totally change a person they once knew. 

“Seresin,” Phoenix greeted, wearing a pair of ripped jeans and a tank top, “Didn’t want to change?” 

“Nope,” Jake shook his head, downing the shot of clear liquid in his hand. He grimaced at the burning sensation, “Didn’t want to go home.” 

Phoenix nodded her head, counting the glasses in front of him, “Going a little heavy already?” 

“Are you my fucking mom?” 

“Don’t be a dick, Bagman,” Bradley chimed in, stepping up behind Phoenix, “It’s not even five yet and you’re halfway through a bottle of tequila.” 

“My fucking god,” Jake groaned, “This is why I don’t go home. All you two do and Y/N is fucking nag me.” 

Bradley and Phoenix both shared a look, their hearts plummeting in their chests. Bradley lightly nudged Phoenix, telling her that it was her turn to remind him. Last time Bradley had done it, it resulted in a black eye and a busted lip. 

“Jake,” Phoenix started, placing her hand on his arm as he leaned against the bar, “Y/N is gone, remember?” 

Jake blinked for a second, trying to recollect the memories that had been lost. That was another thing from the accident Jake had acquired, memory lost. Sometimes it was a good thing, he didn’t remember the last fight he had with her, or the first time he ever saw his dad hit his mom, or even attending the funeral for his best friend. But other times it was a bad thing, such as not remembering that he had attended her funeral. 

“Oh,” He swallowed, nodding his head, “Yeah I remember. I mean, she used to nag me about it.” 

Neither Bradley or Natasha said anything for the rest of the night, opting to just keep an eye on Jake and slip his keys from his back pocket. It was hard watching someone you love fall apart right in front of you. It was even harder when they didn’t remember why they were falling apart. 

The accident happened so fast. Jake had only been back on land for a couple of days, after a long trip underway. Y/N had made plans for the two of them to spend the day together, getting pampered and then surprising Jake to a fancy steak dinner at one of San Diego’s top spots. Jake would never admit it outloud, but he was a sucker for a good massage and pedicure after months of sleeping on a cardboard thin twin mattress in the middle of the ocean. But while Y/N thought she was going to be surprising Jake, he was actually going to be surprising her. The ring box in his suit pocket was burning a hole while hanging up in the backseat of his truck. 

“I really, really like that girl that Bradley has been seeing,” Y/N chatted mindlessly as they drove to the restaurant, “Oh turn left at the light.” 

“Baby, why can’t you just put the directions on the screen,” Jake chuckled. 

“Cause that would be cheating. It’s a surprise,” Y/N rolled her eyes, “Anyway, back to the girl Bradley is seeing. We hung out a lot while you guys were gone and she’s super cool. I feel like he’d be dumb to not tie this one down.” 

“You and I both know Bradley Bradshaw isn’t going to tie anyone down,” Jake said, turning the direction she wanted him to.

“You two have something in common then,” Y/N poked and Jake shot her a look. After five years together, he knew that she was jumping at the bit to get engaged, and he was too. He just wanted everything to be perfect. 

“I don’t plan on living with a roommate until late in my forties like Bradshaw.” 

“Hey, you’re 35, basically already- Jake!” 

Jake gasped as he slammed on the break, and felt his body jolt forward. The sound of smashing metal and breaking glass was loud. The deploying of the airbags were like a bomb going off in his ears as he felt the force breaking his nose. The silence though, the silence was the loudest thing as the car came to a halt after being hit. The scent of copper filled the air, Jake’s head pounding as he turned to look towards his passenger seat. 

“Baby,” Jake cried out. Blood was gushing from a cut on her forehead, and her shiny hair was matted and stained. Jake reached a shaky hand out, pressing his fingers to her neck, feeling for a pulse, “No, no, no,” He sobbed, “Help me! Call 9-1-1! Please!”  

He could hear the commotion from outside the car, the distant sound of sirens getting closer to them. He could hear chatter and someone yelling if everyone was okay. But all Jake could do was stare at her. Despite the blood and the sprinkle of glass in her hair, she looked peaceful, as if she had just fallen asleep. Jake kissed his fingertips, before placing them against her lips. 

“I love you,” He whispered, tears falling down his face and blurring his vision, “I want you to marry me, baby. I want you to marry me,” He was gasping for breath through his sobs, as he gently closed the eyes he loved to look into. But there was something about those lifeless orbs looking back at him, that he knew was going to haunt him forever. 

— — — 

“Bagman!” Bradley yelled, snapping Jake out of his thoughts, “You alright?” 

“Y-yeah,” Jake nodded his head, “Need some air.” 

Bradley nodded, not totally believing Jake. Ever since the accident, Jake hadn’t been one hundred percent the same. Sure, he had returned to flying. He got a clean bill of health from both his doctor and his shrink (something that Maverick made him go through). He had cleaned out his house, packing up all of Y/N’s things and returning them to her mother. It had been months since the funeral, and Jake had felt like he had gone through all of the stages of grief. 

It was just the lapses in memory that had him screwed up. And led him to picking up the bottle. 

Once Jake was outside the Hard Deck, a fresh glass of beer in his hand, he pulled out his phone, going to the familiar messages that had all gone unread. 

‘Jake: I’m not sure where you are, but can you let me know you are okay?’ 

‘Jake: sometimes i forget that you aren’t coming home’

‘Jake: i miss you’ 

‘Jake: Penny kicked me out of the hard deck tonight. Can you believe it?’ 

‘Jake: i really really need you tonight’ 

‘Jake: i got invited to bradley’s stupid fucking engagement party. I guess you were right’

‘Jake: Where are you at?’ 

Jake sighed as he started typing another text towards her number. He knew that Y/N’s mother had her phone, and how pathetic it was to keep texting her number. Even sometimes he went as far as calling her, when he was too worried about where she was and really couldn’t figure out why she wasn’t home, the calls always went to voicemail. But when Jake couldn’t remember what happened, and was wondering where Y/N was, the text thread was a gentle reminder that she wasn’t coming home. That she was buried, five miles away, in a grave that still hadn’t had a headstone yet. 

‘Jake: Bradley decided to get married on our anniversary. I told him to fuck off, that that’s our day’ 

Jake placed his phone down next to him, picking up his glass and taking a hearty sip.

taglist: @shanimallina87 @desert-fern @mygyn @cherrycola27 @sio-ina-bottle @seitmai @topgun-imagines @bradleybeachbabe @na-ta-sh-aa @xoxabs88xox @atarmychick007 @lunamoonbby @sophiaslastbraincell @bradswolfe @fandom-princess-forevermore @thedroneranger @angelbabyange @dempy @lovelywiseprincess @krismdavis @eternallyvenus @dakotakazansky @pono-pura-vida @starberryhorse @daggersquadphantom @gspenc @poppyalice2001 @els-marvelvsp @nyx2021 @t0kyoreveng3rs @frazie99 @spencvrr @kmc1989 @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @toobouquet @malindacath @badasspizzalover @justenoughmadnesss @sagittarius-flowerchild @hardballoonlove @harrysgothicbitch @hookslove1592 @noonenuts @marvellouscroissant @senawashere @bradshawsprincess @alwayshave-faith @smoothdogsgirl @4everademigod

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[wolfjackle-creates]

Ask Game:

8. "Who did this to you." and 24. Showing up at friend/mentors house.

With hurt Danny and any/all of the Bats.

Okay, but holy shit, you have no idea how perfect this one is. I was imagining a scenario with both of these earlier today. This is an alternate version of Bring Me Home where Danny and Tim were online friends from the time they were preteens. The actual fic will not go this way, so I'm so excited to have an excuse to share this version with y'all.

Nonny, I absolutely love you for sending these two in (no romo).

For those who don't follow Bring Me Home. Tim's username was IKnowYourSecrets and Danny often calls him "Secrets." Danny's username was -xXPolarisXx- and Tim will call him "Polaris."

And for everyone, Sam and Tucker ended up with codenames after all their adventures in Amity. Sam is referred to as Regrowth and Tucker as Pharaoh. This will come up later in Bring Me Home, but hasn't yet (mainly bc what I'm writing now takes place before those events).

Word Count: 1.2k

-----

Danny's vision blurred and he felt himself fall a dozen feet. He clutched his stomach tighter and grit his teeth against the pain.

He was almost there. He could make it.

With the last of his strength, he shot an ectoblast into the sky and fell a few more feet, hitting the roof of a building. He scrapped along the rough surface and the only reason he didn't scream was because he couldn't catch his breath enough to. Everything hurt.

He couldn't even push himself up and so just lay there, trying and failing to catch his breath. Not even when he heard a strange noise and footsteps behind him could he move. He tensed as much as possible.

"Who are you?" asked a man.

Danny just groaned. He hurt. He needed Tim.

The footsteps got closer and Danny opened his eyes. When had he closed them? He saw black boots and skin-tight leggins.

Then the man was kneeling. Blue accents on his chest, a domino over his eyes.

Danny let out a sigh. It tasted of ectoplasm. "Ni-win," he slurred.

"So you know who I am, who are you? What happened? How can I help?"

"R— R'bin. Know me."

"You're looking for Robin?"

His vision was going dark. "R'bin. Yea. Secrets. Friends."

"I'll get Robin here. Can you tell me your name?"

"Polaris. Tell—" Danny coughed weakly and spat out more ectoplasm. "Tell 'im, 'M ready to accept 'is offer."

"I will," promised Nightwing.

The blackness crept in further. Danny could hear Nightwing still talking, but couldn't make out the words. Everything was getting fuzzy. But he was in Gotham. Tim was here. Tim would make it all better. He let go.

---

Despite the quiet night, Tim was tense. He couldn't shake the feeling something was wrong. So when Dick's panicked voice came over the comms asking Damian about a secret friend, he was already pulling up Dick's location.

He was on the roof of Tim's civilian apartment building. Which, what?

"I do not have any secret friends," came Damian's reply.

"He's a meta. Caucasian with white hair. He's hurt bad, bleeding everywhere. Lazarus green blood—"

Tim's blood ran cold and he wished he could grapple faster. "Fuck! I'm heading to your location now. He's my friend, not Robin's. Bring him into my apartment. He needs specialized medicines and I've a supply."

"He called himself Polaris. Said he's ready to accept your offer," said Dick.

"Shit. Fuck. Okay. Eta, fifteen minutes."

"I'll get him inside."

"Don't try to treat his injuries," Tim ordered. "Human treatments won't work."

"Understood."

"And..." Tim hesitated, "Did he say how he was injured?"

"No. He passed out before he could."

Tim cursed again, but didn't reply further, despite the way the rest of his family demanded information. If it was the GIW, he'd need to arrange extraction for Sam and Tucker. But if it was Danny's parents... Well, he might just cross a line he swore he'd never cross when he first put on the Robin suit.

Fifteen minutes later, he was sliding the window to his apartment open. Dick had Danny laid out on the floor and was stripping him and pulling away loose bandages, revealing a large Y-shaped incision on his chest.

Dick looked up at him, face grim. Tim didn't let himself pause to look and ran to his bedroom and threw open his closet door. He slid open a hidden compartment revealing a safe and, with shaking fingers, punched in the code. The door swung open and he grabbed the silver-and-green case inside.

He rushed back to Danny's side. "Who did this to you?" he mumbled as he took stock of the injuries.

"Do you have any idea who might've wanted to hurt him?" asked Dick.

"With these wounds, it would be either the GIW or his parents." Tim bit back a hysterical laugh. "Been trying to get him away from them for three years now, but he swore they'd be okay once they realized who he was. Idiot." Tim bit his lip. He couldn't cry right now. He opened the case and pulled out gloves and antiseptic and began cleaning the wounds. "Dick, I need you to contact Superboy, Impulse, and Wonder Girl. Tell them Phantom's hurt bad and Regrowth and Pharaoh may need immediate extraction."

"Okay." Dick was already typing away on his phone. Moments later, it started ringing and Dick answered it on speaker.

Cassie's voice came over, "Red Robin, what's going on?"

"Phantom's been vivisected. He passed out before he could share the culprits. We're at my apartment in Gotham. If it was the GIW..."

"I'm sure Impulse is already there. I need to go home and grab my deflector first, but I'm going to get to Amity as soon as I can. We'll keep you updated."

"Thanks. Phantom's in bad shape. I don't..."

"Rob, you know what to do. We've known this was a risk for three years. You've talked to Frostbite and Regrowth and Phantom about how to best care for traumatic wounds. You're going to make sure he pulls through this."

Tim's eyes burned, but he kept working. Almost done and then he could start with the stitches. "Thanks."

"Anytime, Rob."

The call disconnected and Tim took a shaky breath. Time to start the stitches. They'd come directly from Frostbite and the thread glowed a bright, ectoplasm green.

"Tim," Dick's voice was tight, "Why do you have a case filled with Lazarus water and Lazarus-green supplies?"

"Not Lazarus water." He didn't bother explaining more. He laid the thread along the wounds and willed it to close the wound.

The thread obeyed, breaking into small pieces and sewing the skin together on his own. For the first time since he realized Danny was hurt, he smiled. Ghost medicine definitely made this part easier.

With the major injury taken care of as best as possible, Tim began checking over the rest of Danny. He had a bad burn on his left thigh, new electricity marks on his right shoulder, and his right ankle was either badly sprained or broken.

So he set to cleaning those as best he could. Creams then bandages covered the burns. The splint he laid along the ankle set itself just like the stitches had.

Dick tried to help, but Tim brushed him aside. It'd take too long to explain what had to be done.

Eventually, Dick got up and walked away. He could hear him in the kitchen area messing around in the fridge and reporting the situation over the comms, but he ignored it.

Finally, everything was categorized and bandaged to the best of his abilities. Now, for the final step. He pulled out a syringe shining bright with ectoplasm and stabbed it into a mostly-uninjured area of Danny's thigh.

Danny's back arched off the ground and he gasped, eyes flying open.

Tim leaned over him, "Danny, it's okay. You're safe now. You made it."

"Tim," gasped Danny.

"Yep. You made it. Can you tell me who did this to you?"

Danny closed his eyes and breathed out. "Mom and Dad."

Tim grasped Danny's hand. "Danny..."

Danny squeezed back. He opened his eyes and met Tim's gaze. "Still have that spare room for me?"

"I've had it since the day you died, idiot. Welcome home."

Danny gave a small smile even as tears tracked down his cheeks. "I'm home."

-----

Okay! That ended up being both longer and shorter than I thought it'd be. Hope you all enjoy. Thanks again for sending the prompt, Nonny! And the rest of you, feel free to keep sending some in. I'm off tomorrow and should be able to fill one or two. Any others I can work on over the course of the week.

For now, it's bedtime.

[hunterofartemis7]

Pt.14

Bruce and Selena: *steps out to control the crowd of reporters and photographers*

Reporters: *yelling a million and a half questions at them as soon as they step out*

Photographers: *getting way to close for comfort trying to get the best pictures*

Raven:…..*clings to Damian*

Damian: *holds her hand* breath Beloved.

Jason, Dick and Tim: *walks outside with Bruce and Selina*

Jason: *covering his eyes from all the camera flashes*

Tim: fuck there wasn’t this many people here when B and cat mom got engaged

Dick: tell me about it

Jason: *whistles loudly* *yells* Yo!! If you assholes wanna actually talk to Rach and Damian, back the fuck up and calm the fuck down!!

Paparazzi: *shocked by his language but backs up a bit*

Selina:😑

Jason: what?

Selina: language!

Jason: hey it was effective

Selina: 🙄

Jason: *turns and waves for Raven and Damian to come out*

Damian: ready Beloved?

Raven: *nods*

Damian: *holds her hand and walks out with her behind him*

Raven: *clings to Damian’s arm and stays behind him*

Paparazzi: *immediately swarms them, yelling questions at them*

Dick, Jason, and Tim: *gets in between them*

Damian: *pushes Raven fully behind him*

Jason: *pulls his gun out and shots up at the sky* I SAID BACK THE FUCK UP!!!

Paparazzi: *backs up in fear*

Jason: better. Little D, the floor is yours

Bruce:😑

Jason: oh get over it. *steps to the side*

Damian: thank you Todd. *turns back to the crowd* If you all have calmed down enough to be civilized, then me and my beloved can answer you questions one at a time; no need to scream at us, understand?

Crowd: *nods*

Damian: good. *points at one reporter* you first

Reporter 1: is it true that you’re pregnant?

Raven: yes it is

Reporter 2: how far along are you?

Raven: 6 weeks

Reporter 3: was this planned?

Damian: no, but we’re excited and happy none the less. *puts his arm around Raven*

Raven: *smiles*

Reporter 4: so you have no plans to abort the baby?

Raven: ofc not. I love my baby and would never get rid of it

Reporter 5: did you only sleep with Damian for his money?

Raven: No!

Damian: *slaps the reporter* anymore questions like that and you will all be heading to the hospital!

Reporters:👀

Reporter 2: how long have you two been together?

Raven: 3 years.

Reporter 6: do you two still plan to get married or is the wedding on a halt?

Raven: we still want to get married…as for the wedding….um..

Damian: that is to be determined.

Reporter 1: what’s the baby’s sex?

Raven: it’s too early to tell.

Reporter 1: Will its gender be announced when you find out?

Raven: umm….im not sure yet

Reporter 5: will the baby be a bastard o—*gets punched in the face by Damian and KO*

Damian: why did I just say jackass!

Crowd: *backs away*

Damian: anyone else?

Reporter 4: how did your family react to the baby? Seeing as it’s the first grandchild

Jason: oh we about shit ourselves when we heard. B actually cried

Bruce: I did not😑

Tim: you did too

Paparazzi: awwwww

Reporter 6: is the baby’s name going to be announced?

Damian: no

Reporter 6: and why not?

Damian: because we have no obligation to announce our baby’s name till it’s birth

Reporter 2: oh! Do you plan to take the easy way out?

Raven: easy way out?

Reporter 2; a c-section. Do you plan to have a c-section or natural birth?

Reporter 3: and will the birth be recorded and posted?

Raven: *getting uncomfortable* umm…I haven’t decided yet…I still have a ways to go but I don’t see a c-section as “the easy way out.” And no…we’re not going to post a video of me giving birth…cause that’s weird

Damian: *seeings she’s getting uncomfortable* okay this interview is over. You people need to leave; now!

Reporter 6: last question! *turns to raven* is Damian forcing you to keep the baby?

Raven: No! Absolutely not! It’s my decision to keep it!

Damian: *slaps the reporter* LEAVE! ALL OF YOU! NOW!!

Jason: *shoots at the sky again* get!

Paparazzi: *runs away in fear*

Bruce: was that necessary?

Jason: yes

Damian: yes

Bruce:🙄

Selina: *sighs* *turns to raven* You okay dear?

Raven: yeah….*wipes the tears away from her eyes*

Damian: *puts an arm around her* come on, let’s get you inside. You’ve had enough to deal with today. *takes her inside*

Raven: *follows him inside* *hugging her belly* Damian…

Damian: yeah?

Raven: is this going to be a normal thing now?

Damian: not if I have anything to say about it *puts his hand on her belly* I’m not letting some fucking noisy assholes ruin this for you.

Raven: thank you

[i1f3klic]

Art in different ways

Klaus Mikaelson x Black Heretic

warnings: smut, kinda kidnapping, really flirty klaus , blowjob , backshots , anal , dom reader , (this reader got the gyat btw)

We found love by Rihanna blasts in the air. Pink bright dresses everywhere , the aesthetics went from chic , to hooker. Homecoming is tomorrow and I need to find the perfect dress. I look at every dress in the boutique. I finally find THE one. The dress is black and shimmering with glitter and at the bottom there's a small cutesy bow. I'm definitely going to eat up for prom. I take the dress up to the register and watch the cashier pack it up.

"Your going to do wonders for that dress" said a man with a deep british accent.

I turned to see a man with light brown hair, green eyes and a cheeky smile. He was mighty fine. "What's your name love"?" he asked. I tell him "Y/n Reid". He looks at me and examines my whole person. "Let's go for a chat"

He takes me back his house and shows me around. His house looks like a mansion. The architecture of it was made beautifully.

"I hope I don't have to take anyone's heart out for you" He says and laughs low. He looks to me and smiles , I smile back. This man was so fine and I'm in his house. He brings me to his art room, what really caught my eye was a drawing. It was a person hugging their knees and there were strings attached to them, with skulls surrounding it. It freaked me out at first but I somehow could decrypt what it meant.

He walked towards the table and took the drawing off it. "You like this ?" He asked. I shake my head yes and ask "What made you draw this" I look at him and in his eyes he looked really hurt like he was mentally in pain.

"A artist never shares their inspiration, someone might take it and twist it" He puts away the drawing and takes my hands and looks at me. His eyes are blue with a hint of green in them. "You're so beautiful Y/n" he says. I smile and it feels like I'm blushing. He raises his hand to caress his thumb on my cheek. He moves his other hand to the back of my neck and pulls me in. He kisses me.

His lips are so soft and they taste like faded cherry chapstick. His tongue and my tongue were fighting. He grabs my waist and I make my hands to the buckle of his zipper. He's rock solid, it feels like a hard ass brick. From that I could tell he was packing. I pull it out and his member shoots up to the sky. He leans back on a wall and I get on my knees.

I placed his cock in my mouth, my nose all on his groan. I motion my head back and forth. His dick had to be like 11/12 inches. Instead of a bbc he had a BWC. I look up to him and he's already looking down at me. He was admiring me. I smile at him and lick his tip. I kiss it and lick all around it. "Stop teasing love" he moans. I get back too it and the whole room sounds like someone is blowing in a ballon with a hole in it.

He grabs my head and starts fucking it. His thrusts are fast , it feels like sonic. He groans loudly, "I can't wait to fuck you" He nuts and I swallow , some of his cum dripped from my lips. I lick it up and he smiles. He grabs me and then grabs my ass gripping it. He speeds off really fast with me into his bedroom. It was literally sonic boom.

"You're a vampire" I say

"And your a heretic"

"You want too stop" he asks. I look at him, he had his shirt off. His pecs looked suckable. "Hell no" I said as I grabbed his face kissing him, I threw us on the bed. I put my hand on his abs, keeping him down. My super strength came in clutch. I climb on top of him and I put it in. I whisper in his ear, "You should've told me earlier , I could've showed you my tricks". He looks at me and whispers back. "I got a trick for you"

He turns us over and bends me down infront of him. He caresses his dick on my hole and puts it in there. His trusts start slow and he sped up after every shot. The room sounded like gunshots. I tried to control my moans but they were out of control. Klaus was moaning too, his sounds were so deep and sexy. My ears were in heaven. He grabs my waist and I feel it in my stomach.

We go on for like another hour or two. He finally nuts. We both fall back on the bed, my head is on his chest and his hand on my ass. "We should do this again" he said.

"I wouldn't pass on that"

[violetganache42]

Highlights from a swashbuckling, futuristic watch party on this fine 6th anniversary of "The Shadow War!":

"No Sail"

The sail deactivating every ten seconds after despositing a nickel

"Warning: Never. Drink. Sea water! Tempting as it is, it'll just make you thirstier."

Mine!

Goofy pulling up a fake shark fin while Donald gets a real shark

Return of the Perfect Cast!

"Duck to the Future"

Godfrey and I DREADING this episode

Not Doofus Drake! ><

WriteBackAtYa: "Who doesn’t want lemonade made by 87 Doofus Drake’s feet?"

(No! Bad Will!)

Magica appearance?!

This episode predicting Scrooge being Doctor Who

$500 BUS FAIR?! DAMN INFLATION!

HDL's "adult" designs (It's not fucking hard to make them look like actual adult ducks!)

Old Man Gyro

Me: "Where's Time Baby when you need him?" Godfrey: "Again, same brain"

Take a shot every time WriteBackAtYa says "It gets worse"

Us HATING Future Webby's design (Her outfit is fine, but everything else? Bless me bagpipes, it's bad!)

Pay no attention to the witch behind the curtain!

Future Doofus being an absolute dick (Webby deserves someone better, and that someone is Lena!)

puffywuffy8904 and Alex: *pointing out how Drake is dead* WriteBackAtYa: "The orange traffic cone above his grave should be stolen by now"

Johnny Quest ass shot

Future Louie riding shotgun

Even in the original series, Dewey crashes a plane

Suddenly, THE HINDENBURG DISASTER

Scrooge disrupting the timeline with Webby saying she's not into Doofus (Thank you for setting the course for a good future, Scrooge. This episode was… UGH… Never again! ><)

"Sky Pirates…in the Sky!"

Dewey wanting to tell his family how he got his hat

"Hey feet off the merchandise!"

Us singing the Sky Pirate song!

Scrooge's golden reaction after the song finished and the treasure was stolen

puffywuffy8904: "even though it was SHIT"

Any: "Busted" Me:

Webby casually gaslighting Louie into believing the Sapphire of Souls is real

Louie being the Gollum of the family

Don Karnage being a bad actor

puffywuffy8904: "you know who ELSE is a botanist" Me: "MY MOM"

Cater-chiller

Godfrey and Kaito stealing my thunder

Discord dunking on Dewey by freezing the stream during his Sky Pirate reprise

Even LAUNCHPAD was mad at Dewey for what he did! LAUNCHPAD OF ALL PEOPLE! That's how you know you and your ego trip fucked up!

Magica having a better disguise than Don Karnage

Sky pirates: "A Duel!" Godfrey: "(cue duel of the fates)"

The way Scrooge boards the Sunchaser with his hat full of treasure. XD

Webby revealing to Louie she tricked him: GASLIGHT GATEKEEP GIRLBOSS

Marshmello x DuckTales - Fly (Music Video)

Scrooge and the kids embodying the element of sassy

Puffy panicking about the family being out in space

"MARSHMELLO IS A DUCKTALES FAN"

This song being in a Fortnite event apparently

Treasure Planet

Everyone realizing Missy hadn't joined yet (The lack of "smash" was noticable.)

Me sharing Treasure Planet Lorcana cards

The offended "Ewww"

melcat33: "family clearly having a huge crisis" "MY JUICE" Tokuvivor: "If anyone needs me, I'll be in the kitchen drinking… juice."

puffywuffy8904: "HEY COOL A DEAD GUY"

Alex pointing out how the dying guys always have to give a vague warning

Jim: "Treasure Planet." Me: "Roll credits."

Delbert immediately being on board to tag along with Jim

The meta in "character-building months"

The TRANSITION from the Hawkins' residence to the Spaceport!

Captain Amelia appearance!

CYBORG…

John Silver 🤝 Hugh Neutron Calling Jim and Jimmy "Jimbo"

MORPH APPEARANCE

Learning the original Treasure Planet novel popularized a lot of pirate tropes

Everyone praising how it is a fun yet underrated movie

puffywuffy8904: "wait are they gonna kiss eww" Me: "Outside. Now!"

Subtitles dying as John Silver was berating the crew

"I'm Still Here" screaming 2000s-core

Subtitles near the end of the montage:

Star Wars doing the "Your father is the true villain" shtick first

TransedMyGender: "You know what's worse than a supernova?" Alex: "see your father leave"

Scroop killing Arrow!

puffywuffy8904: "there ain't gonna be a treasure planet 2 for us to worry about" melcat33: "don't you dare jinx us"

"oh shit, guess i have a kid now"

Morph messing with Jim

Missy FINALLY joining the watch party!

Morph custody fight

Everyone saying who they consider the best duck waifu (Morph can be a duck if he wants to. lol)

Suddenly, ROBOT

Learning that Jim was voiced by Joseph Gordin Levitt (NGL, he sounded a lot like Ben Schwartz at various instances)

The violins playing

"We're not a couple" Delbert and Amelia LITERALLY having a shipping moment immediately after

puffywuffy8904: "this guy stinks" Me and WriteBackAtYa's first thoughts:

THE MEME

"Woof."

Delayed subtitles

🎵Yo ho, yo ho, a pirate's life for me!🎵

The WONDERFUL meshing of 2D animation and CGI

Us @ Scroop's death:

Me: "BITE OF 87" WriteBackAtYa: "87 like ducktales?"

BATHROOM BREAK SPEEDRUN

puffywuffy8904: "hey you know what ELSE has robots and supernovas" Alex: "not Jimbo's dad"

Suddenly, HUEBERRYSHORTCAKE APPEARANCE!

This movie being TaleSpin in Space

Family is the greatest treasure of all!

WriteBackAtYa: "His mom is cool" Me: "She did her very best." WriteBackAtYa: "Like no one ever was"

SHIPPING UP TO BOSTON

Delbert and Amelia already having quatriplets quadruplets

DuckLooneyHistoria bringing up the 1988 Russian Treasure Island movie

[galaxymagitech]

Skyglow

Summary: Jason wakes up in a coffin for the second time, the feeling of satin brushing against his fingers and the thick scent of dirt filling his nostrils. He should probably start digging. But he doesn't.

Characters: Jason Todd, Dick Grayson, Tim Drake, Bruce Wayne

Warnings: Suicidal thoughts, possibly something that counts as a suicide attempt (not sure), a character claws at their skin.

It’s a dark, clear night in Gotham, and if you squint hard enough, you can almost see the stars.

Jason sits at the edge of the roof, staring into the sky and pretending like he’s finding meaning there. There’s the sound of soft footsteps behind him. Out of the corner of his eye, Jason sees Nightwing hang his legs off the roof’s edge a few feet away.

“When I was little,” Jason says, “I used to think they made the stars up.”

Dick hums.

“Bruce took me on a business trip in Metropolis, one day. We wanted to be there before sundown, but we ended up getting delayed. Don’t remember why. And so we were driving on the interstate and I looked up from my book and just—there were stars. Everywhere. And I was just like, oh, I guess stars aren’t just a metaphor. Can you believe that? I was twelve when I learned that stars were real.”

Dick shifts a little. “I never thought of that.”

“What, that a stupid little kid wouldn’t believe in stars?”

“That some people in Gotham haven’t ever seen a star. That’s just…” They sit in silence, for a bit. “Why are we here?” Dick asks, eventually.

Jason shrugs. “I dunno why you followed me.” That’s not entirely true. He’d be willing to bet that Tim snitched. But he doesn’t know why Tim decided his concerns were important enough to bother Nightwing about. Or why Dick decided to actually be concerned.

Dick sighs. “You know what I’m asking. Why are you here?”

Jason doesn’t know. He’s been hanging out on a lot of rooftops, lately. Maybe if he sits on enough ledges, he’ll decide if it’s actually worth it to jump, instead of just slowly sliding off. 

Unlike the stars, that’s a metaphor; Jason wouldn’t jump. A fall isn’t clean enough. Too much of a chance that the universe will fuck him over again. No, if he dies, he wants to stay dead.

“I don’t know what brought me back,” Jason says, well aware that Dick meant here on the rooftop, not here as in alive. “But dead screw-ups don’t come back to life. That’s for…Superman. The forces of evil. Hell, I’d buy it if Batman came back. But me? No fucking way was I supposed to get a second shot.”

“You did, Jason,” Dick says. “You’re alive. I don’t care if we don’t know how, you’re alive.”

But Jason just plows right past. “I figured, if I didn’t deserve a second shot, then I must’ve been brought back for a reason. ‘cause there was something I needed to do.” He frowns. “Do you know the first words I heard once I came back to myself?” Dick shakes his head. “Yeah, why would you? I didn’t say. But. Talia said, ‘you remain unavenged.’ That’s what she told me.”

“Jason—”

 “So I figured it had to be revenge, right? Only, I haven’t been able to kill the Joker. And then I figured, maybe I needed to prove Batman wrong. But he’s still doing the same thing he always did, letting the Joker live, not fixing anything. And then I figured, it was up to me, and my job was to fix things. But I’m not killing right now, I’m following the rules, and I’m a fucking joke, Dick. Everyone knows it. So there isn’t really a point to me after all.”

“Don’t say that.”

Jason shrugs. “It’s true. There isn’t. It would’ve been better if I hadn’t crawled my way out of that grave.”

---

Jason wakes up gasping for air and rolls over, fumbling for the switch of the lamp beside his bed. Instead, his fingers brush against cushioned satin.

Groggily, he opens his eyes, only to see complete darkness. No light filters through the curtains or leaks underneath the door. It’s unnatural. It’s wrong. He reaches up an arm, only to hit the ceiling a couple inches above his face. That’s when the panic sets in.

Jason loses himself to the shocks of fear pulsing through his system, pumped by his pounding heart. For a long time, he can’t think at all. He can only drown in the darkness and terror. When he regains awareness, his breaths are shallow and he can feel strips of satin beneath his fingers, torn from the roof of—

What is the last thing you remember? Jason blinks, but his memories swim. He doesn’t know. There are glimpses, lines thrown out into the water, but as soon as he reaches for them, they’re gone. He leans over Tim’s shoulder in the Batcave, examining a color-coded spreadsheet. He stands in front of Bruce, helmet on, as they brief on top of a rooftop. He sits at the kitchen table of Safehouse 4, the oldest of the safehouses he hasn’t burnt yet, with Around the World in 80 Days propped open as he picks at an omelet. All of the memories feel old. None of them explain where he is now.

His neck is itching, Jason realizes. He reaches up instinctively to loosen his tie. That’s when he realizes that he is, in fact, wearing a tie. These days, Jason only wears one of those for infiltration. Was he on an infiltration mission? He brushes a hand against his face. There doesn’t seem to be any make-up there, not even concealer for his scars.

The realization comes to him dully, this time.

He’s in a suit, surrounded by satin, in a small, enclosed space, and it’s dark. Jason’s been here before.

---

Jason stands across from Bruce, no, Batman. At the man’s side is Robin, arms slightly raised and fists tightly clenched. It’s milliseconds away from a defensive position. Jason should probably feel bad about that, but he doesn’t.

When he speaks, he aims to hurt. “You have no idea what it was like,” Jason says. “I crawled my way out of my own grave.”

This should not be news to anyone, but Bruce still flinches.

Jason grins, all teeth. “I remember it, sometimes. It took hours. I was screaming the whole time. I tore off all my fingernails, you know. Even when I was Robin, the most any torturer got to was four. But I lost ten, and I kept digging.” The Replacement looks like he’s going to be sick. Good. “Up and up and up. I knew I wasn’t gonna make it, you see. You can’t force your way out of your own grave. Mythbusters did an episode on it, yeah? So I had to scoop the dirt away, but I knew I wasn’t gonna have enough air for that. But I kept digging, because I thought—I thought maybe someone would find me, and if I made it just a little bit easier for them—”

“I’m sorry,” Batman says roughly. “Jason, I’m so sorr—"

Jason ignores him. It feels good to ignore an apology from Batman, instead of being grateful for whatever scraps of contrition the man can manage. “I don’t know how I did it. It should’ve been impossible. I think maybe I suffocated, and just came back to life and kept digging again, and suffocated again, and—”

“Stop,” Batman orders.

“Things are fuzzier, after I made it out. But I remember I was cold. So, so cold. It was raining. And I felt like I was as cold as a corpse, like life hadn’t properly warmed me up yet. And I didn’t know where I was going. I couldn’t walk, so I just crawled. I just crawled, Bruce, and then I stood up, and then I walked. A few hours before, I was being beaten to death with a crowbar. I thought someone would find me then. No one did. And I was still stupid enough to think someone would find me that second time.”

Robin’s right hand drifts toward Batman, like he’s going to try to cling to his mentor’s cape, before he clearly thinks better of it and withdraws his hand as if burnt. Batman growls. He doesn’t sound entirely human.

“You know nothing, Bruce,” Jason spits. “Nothing.”

---

Jason is in a coffin. He can smell the dirt around him, and he’s too lucid for that to be entirely an olfactory hallucination. He’s in a coffin, and he’s buried underground.

Although Jason wouldn’t put it past certain Rogues and crime families to bury someone alive, he’s in a suit and he isn’t wearing anything to disguise his identity. He has to face the facts.

Jason can feel phantom pains in his fingers, his lungs burning for oxygen before he’s even begun to truly run out of air.

Jason should probably start digging. But he doesn’t.

It’s quiet, in this coffin, just the sounds of his own ragged breaths. Jason knows that the first time around, he screamed. And when he couldn’t scream anymore, he cried, and when he couldn’t cry, he pleaded in hoarse whispers for someone, anyone, Bruce, Dick, Dad, please, please—

Jason realizes he isn’t breathing anymore and forces himself to inhale, wheezing like a dying man. Hah. He already died. At least twice. Probably—probably more. If he came back this time, how many times in the past have his “brushes with death” in fact taken him past its threshold?

But in the past, he seized his chance at life with both hands. This time…this time…

The universe brought him back for a reason. But it isn’t the Joker, and it isn’t Batman, and it isn’t Gotham. And Jason—Jason had been glad to fulfill it, whatever it was. He’d taken his second chance and used it, used himself as kindling to start whatever fire the universe desired. But he’s fucking tired of being burnt. Speaking of burning—

No one told Jason to write a will. He knows Dick has one and Bruce, of course, has one. Alfred has one, Barbara has one, even Cassandra Cain has one, although she has little to her name. Jason knows it’s standard vigilante/superhero procedure to have your affairs in order. But no one could work up the willpower—heh, willpower—to approach Jason and ask that he prepare for a second death.

Jason wrote a will anyway. Legally, he doesn’t exist. He has a small amount of money in various fake identities, but most of his funds aren’t exactly something he can distribute in a will. But he doesn’t much care what happens to them after his death. No, he wrote the will after one too many nightmares about his resurrection. That night, he picked up a pen and scribbled feverishly in his notebook that he wanted to be cremated. And Jason woke up in the morning and looked at it and thought, yeah, that’s fair. So he made it about as official as it could get.

Right now, it’s really fucking clear that he hasn’t been cremated.

Jason should start digging. But he doesn’t.

Death was supposed to mean that he was done. Cremation was supposed to ensure that. Jason just wants to be done. He thinks he deserves that much, at least. 

Jason thinks, what if I just lay here? Last time, he took his chance to live. What good did that do him? He didn’t get revenge, he didn’t get proof that Bruce cared, hell, he didn’t even properly protect Crime Alley. His dad always told Jason that he had to grow up to be something, “not like your old man.” But one time when he was drunk, Willis looked straight at Jason and said, “you’re never gonna amount to anything” and Jason had never figured out if his father had been talking to Jason or himself. Jason had thought, with Robin, that he mattered. But he was replaced as easy as can be. He never mattered. He squandered his first life, and he failed at his second, and really, Jason thinks, what’s the point of a third?

Jason wonders what will happen if he just stays here. Good corpses stay still. Good corpses don’t dig their way out of graves. Jason’s been dead twice now. He should be a pro at being a corpse.

It’s always been hard to do nothing. The same impulse that urged Jason to take his tire iron to the Batmobile makes his hands twitch to start digging. He’s wasting valuable time. Jason’s always been a do-er, and now he needs to not do anything. He’s always been a survivor, and now he has to lay down and die.

Jason should really start digging. But he doesn’t.

He is done being a zombie, a revenant, a walking memorial. He shouldn’t have come back that first time. The universe put things right and now Jason has to prevent her from having second thoughts.

---

“What the hell was that?” The Replacement shouts, one hand tight around his bo staff and the other clenched into a fist.

“I don’t answer to you,” Jason sneers. He folds his arms across his chest. Fuck it. This is a waste of time. He leans down to snap a ziptie over wrists of one of the less injured traffickers. The sooner he cleans up, the sooner he can get out of this warehouse.

“This is my route, so according to protocol, you do,” Tim insists.

“Yeah, I don’t follow protocol.” Jason gestures at the criminals bleeding all over the warehouse floor. None of them are dead. Probably.

“Clearly, or else you wouldn’t have engaged!”

“I made an informed decision.”

“No, you didn’t. You entered the middle of a freaking firefight, Hood, without your helmet, and you didn’t know you had backup.”

“It was fine.”

“Because I was there! Which you didn’t know, because you refuse to be on our comms.”

“I don’t need you.”

“Hood, do you not see how insane what you just did was? Or do you just not care?”

Jason bristles. “What, concerned about the poor widdle traffickers?”

Tim throws his hands into the air, like Jason’s the one being difficult. “That’s not what I’m talking about! I don’t care about them!”

Jason feels his lips twitch into a smirk, and before he knows it, he’s drawn a gun from its holster and trained it on the goon at his feet. His smirk widens into a grin at Tim’s flinch. “Oh, really? Guess I’ll just take out some trash then.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Tim says, voice carefully measured. “You know that’s not what I meant.”

Well, that’s one way to ensure that Tim never gets to his actual point. Jason flicks the safety off. The click echoes through the warehouse.

“Stop it,” the kid tries to order. Jason’s finger twitches on the trigger. “Please, Hood. Don’t do this.”

Jason shrugs and clicks the safety on, as if it doesn’t physically pain him to leave this scum alive. He knew he wasn’t going to kill anyone the second he dropped down from the rafters, and unlike what Batman thinks, he has self-control.

The Replacement tries to hide his relief, but he does a piss-poor job of it. “That was reckless,” Tim says. “Really, really reckless, and you know it.”

Jason turns around without a word. He doesn’t have to deal with this shit.

“I’ll have to tell B.”

Jason really doesn’t need a lecture from Bruce, but he can just avoid the cave until Bruce gets distracted by something equally reckless Tim does. Or, well, probably not equally reckless—Jason’s well-aware that what he did is pretty close to the edge of the ‘reckless’ spectrum, straddling the line between ‘reckless’ and, well, ‘suicidal.’ But equally stupid, at least. The Replacement seems like a dumb kid.

“I’ll tell Nightwing,” Tim tries desperately, and that makes Jason spin around. Because shit, Nightwing would hunt him down and not be satisfied just giving a lecture. He’d want to talk about feelings.

“Fine,” Jason huffs. “What do you want? A safehouse? Files? Me off this case?”

“I want you to stay alive, because believe it or not, I’d like Batman to not have another mental breakdown.”

Yeah, right. Like that would happen. Batman would still have his precious display case, and he cares far more about the dead kid than the Red Hood.

“Bruce can’t lose his son again,” Tim says, and Jason just—he can’t do this. His vision whites out. He has to leave. So he leaves.

When Jason finally registers the thuds of his boots, he’s three long blocks away from the warehouse. Whatever. The Replacement’s not going to go crying to Nightwing about Hood being a little reckless. If anything, he’ll be pleased.

---

Jason swallows. If he’s going to die, he might as well use up his air faster. Less time to wait. “It is a truth universally acknowledged…”

He recites the first chapter of Pride and Prejudice. Darkness by Lord Byron. Sings You Are My Sunshine five times. Waiting to die is a slow, slow thing, and every second, his entire body is screaming dig, save yourself, survive!

There’s a sound above him, strange thumping. Maybe, Jason thinks, it’s raining. That would be…not ironic, but there’s a strange sort of circle to it, isn’t there? He was born on a rainy day, and Catherine arrived at the hospital soaked. He was reborn in the rain. If he had dug up, he would have been born yet again in the rain. The opposite of a phoenix.

Bruce should have cremated him. Jason doesn’t even know that he won’t just suffocate and then wake up again, but this time with no air. An endless loop of suffocation. The thought sends a thrill of terror through Jason. He regrets not digging.

But if he wakes up again, Jason supposes, then he’ll make his way out. It’ll hurt, but he can take his time. And then after, after, he’ll find a fire. And then he won’t have to remember how much it hurt.

The thought should be comforting, but Jason just feels terrified, and afraid, and alone. He wonders where they buried him this time. Last time, he’d been next to Sheila. But he’d screamed at Bruce for it, so maybe, maybe this time it’s somewhere else. Next to his mom, his real mom, even. Not that Bruce seemed to particularly care about Jason’s wishes, when he was actually real and not just a memorial caged within rose-tinted glass. After all, he’d asked to be cremated.

Jason closes his eyes. Everything feels detached, out of phase. He isn’t sure if it’s oxygen deprivation setting in or a side-effect of his resurrection, or just the strangeness of the scenario. He’s tired. That could be any one of the three as well.

How did I die? Jason wonders. He strains for his memories. The taste of rocky road ice cream from his favorite ice cream shop. Tim laughing. Flashes of blinding light. None of it is an answer. None of it explains what happened.

The thuds are getting louder. Jason wonders if it’s hail. Last he remembers, it was June. If it’s winter now, he supposes six months have passed. Maybe more. Maybe he’s been dead for years.

“I’m tired,” Jason whispers. “I’m so tired.” He blinks. His vision tilts. Definitely oxygen deprivation.

It’s almost over.

And then Jason hears—Jason hears voices and there’s a light, but it’s dim, and there are shadows falling on him. Jason lies there. He wonders if this is what he saw right before he died the second time. The first time, he just saw flames, seared across his eyelids.

“Jason,” someone says. They sound horrified.

That’s his name. Jason doesn’t respond. What’s the point?

“Hold on.”

This dream doesn’t make much sense. Jason hopes it’ll be over soon.

Something grasps his arms and pulls. No. No, Jason has to stay. Corpses have to stay in their graves. If he doesn’t stay, then he’ll have to come back, and he’ll just ruin it again. He has to stay. “No,” Jason can hear himself babbling. “No, let me go, let me—no. I have to. I have to go back.”

“Jason, calm down.”

“No!” Jason shouts, desperately. He throws out a kick and dives forwards, eyes closed. Strong arms catch him around the waist and hold him close, pulling him against someone’s chest. “No, I have to go back! Please!”

“Jason, open your eyes!”

Jason’s eyes snap open and he sees—

Batman. Nightwing. Robin. It’s all wrong.

Jason doubles over. “Please,” he sobs. “I have to go back. You need to let me go back.”

“You’re okay, Jason,” Batman says in his ear, but his voice is all Bruce. “You’re alive.”

“Yeah, that’s the fucking problem.” Dick startles. Jason must’ve said that out loud. “Please,” he whispers.

The first time he dug himself out of his own grave, Jason’s voice was gone by the time he made it to the surface. This time, someone else dug him out, but no one will listen when he speaks.

Jason slumps in Bruce’s hold, and they just…stand there. Eventually, Bruce slowly sets Jason on the ground and kneels down in front of him. 

Jason’s heartbeat pounds in his ear. It’s wrong. His heart shouldn’t be beating. It’s wrongwrongwrongwrong. Desperately, Jason claws at his wrists, trying to dig the heartbeat out. It has to go away. Someone tugs at his hand and Jason snatches it away and cradles his hand against his chest. His pulse continues to tear him apart.

“Jason,” Bruce says. “Do you know where you are right now?”

“A fucking graveyard, right?” Jason says. His eyes burn. He refuses to wipe at them. He can feel the hard, rocky dirt beneath him. He wants to be numb again. He shouldn’t be here. He should be underground.

There’s a sharp silence. “We’re not in a graveyard, Little Wing,” Dick says, eventually.

Jason looks around slowly. His vision feels disconnected, and it takes several moments for each image to register. But there are no gravestones around, just trees, trees and sky. It’s dark out. He thinks, when he looks up, he can almost see the stars. He doesn’t understand. “Then why am I in a suit?”

“Do you remember the gala?” Tim asks, so quietly that Jason almost doesn’t hear him. In fact, it sounds more like “…oo…ber…gala?” with the rest being lost underneath the Replacement’s breath, but Jason figures that’s what he’s saying. Jason shakes his head. 

Dick takes a step closer. “The paparazzi saw us out in Gotham four days ago. With you. You…there was a gala tonight. Bruce convinced you to go with us. And then you went missing. We thought you walked out early. But then…well, Tim was working on a case, and…well…”

“A weird cult thought you were a zombie,” Tim says, when it becomes clear that Dick’s not going to explain anything properly. “So they knocked you out, did a ritual, and re-buried you.”

This is real, Jason thinks suddenly, and then he’s doubled over, retching. Nothing comes out except spit. He can feel grass beneath his hands. When he curls his fingers, he scrapes up dirt. “This is real,” Jason says aloud. “This is real. This is real.”

“This is real,” Dick confirms. Jason retches again.

This is real. Jason doesn’t know what to say.

Tim sighs. “We need to take you to the police.”

Bruce shakes his head. “We need to talk.” His voice is dark. Jason shudders.

“Not like this, Bruce,” Dick says. “Not with the cowl on. Jason, are you good to deal with questions right now?”

“I don’t remember much.” Jason tugs at his tie in the stifling heat. Across the room, Tim is talking to a group of teenage boys and making large, animated gestures. Jason stumbles, catching himself on a nearby table.

“That’s fine, Jay,” Dick says. “We recovered security footage and we have confessions. We’ll be there in civies as soon as we can, okay?”

Jason shrugs. Someone helps him to his feet.

---

On the rooftop, Dick places a hand over Jason’s. “Don’t say that.”

“It’s true,” Jason says quietly. “I shouldn’t have come back.”

“You’re wrong,” Dick says. He sounds so sure. But that’s the first Robin. He’s sure about everything. Jason could never measure up.

“Jason Todd was better off without me insulting his memory.”

“Who cares about a memory?” Dick scoffs. “You’re alive.”

“Tell that to Bruce.”

“Tell that to yourself,” Dick says. “You’re alive, Jason. You’re alive. Don’t you see how amazing that is? All of us—me, Bruce, Tim, Alfred—we’re so happy that you’re alive.”

“I don’t believe you,” Jason says. He believes that Dick believes it. He believes that Dick has to believe it, that Dick won’t admit to himself that he wishes Jason was still dead. Dick will always ignore his darker thoughts. But Jason knows. Jason knows Dick would be happier if Jason never came back. And Bruce? The man doesn’t even think that Jason counts as Jason anymore. Alfred no doubt can see that something in Jason is deeply, deeply wrong—sociopathic tendencies, Talia had theorized, although Jason suspects he’s far beyond tendencies. And Tim has no reason to wish his murderous predecessor well, not after the Tower. So, no, Jason doesn’t believe Dick.

“You will,” Dick says. “I promise.”

Jason stares into the sky. He thinks maybe, just maybe, he can see a star.

[juceynightmare]

dating 101 (18+) part 19 - cody rhodes x reader

my masterlist

dating 101 (18+) masterlist

pairing(s): cody rhodes x reader, roman reigns x reader

warning(s): swearing, based off of real life hazing (hazing is bad) , marijuana and alcohol usage, mentions of religious views

genre(s): college!au, slow burn, fluff, angst

|| previous part || next part ||

basement night. cody had forgotten that tonight was basement night for the new pledges to the frat and cody was a pledge. roman was also a pledge. which also meant that cody would have to see him immediately after literally washing roman’s touch off of y/n. he knew it’d be smart for him to not get high before going, so cody had given y/n 7 milligrams of an edible and was currently enjoying the way the girl was shoveling mcdonalds fries into her mouth.

he shook his head in amusement, reaching out for a fry and popping it in his mouth. y/n had stopped talking a while ago once the weed hit, and she settled for communicating through a series of doe eyes, pouting, and little whines. cody found her absolutely endearing.

the sound of his phone alarm blared through the room, causing y/n to whine out in protest while cody reached for his phone and turned off the alarm. he could tell from y/n best job at trying to be angry that she didn’t want him leaving. she had already scolded him about joining a frat considering all the hazing they do, and basement night was surely the biggest hazing event of them all.

cody remembers jokingly calling her mom followed by a “at least i’m not in the frat that throws bricks at the pledges balls.” he certainly took basement night over losing one of his balls, and he’d do that a hundred times over.

cody had brought y/n back to her room, bidding her farewell with a hug and a kiss on the forehead. he patted down his pockets as he walked out of the building, making sure he had his phone and keys.

there was no way he’d be leaving the frat house with the ability to drive, so cody settled for walking the 15 minutes to get to the house. it did leave him with time to mentally prepare himself.

basement night. a night where all the new pledges to the frat are locked in the basement and are given an entire 750 mililiters of vodka each and have to finish the entire bottle on their own if they wish to leave the basement. cody was certain that he wouldn’t have a stomach by the early morning, but that was part of greek culture and cody loves getting messy.

besides, it wasn’t like cody disliked the other pledges. they were going to be brothers soon, and had already gotten close in the short amount of time since they were declared as pledges for the frat. it was always fun getting together with those guys, but cody had no idea how they were when they got messy.

arriving to the house, cody greeted the brothers before a bottle of vodka was thrust in his hand.

“you’re the last one, codes. you fucking some girl?” one brother, max, teased as he lead cody down to the basement.

cody laughed, opening up his bottle as he walked down the stairs. “you know me so well already.” he mused, taking a step into the basement after max held open the door.

the other pledges were already there, most notably were roman and his cousins who were itching to take the first shot.

max lightly shoved cody further into the room, before announcing, “alright, it’s 10. remember, no sharing your fucking drinks or we’ll throw bricks at your dick like we’re zeta epsilon. if you want to leave, you gotta take your last part of your bottle in front of me right here at the door. knock when you’re ready. good luck, losers.”

the door was slammed shut, followed by the loud sound of a lock.

the room was littered with trash bags everywhere, most likely for whenever they would need to empty out their guts later on in the night.

“cheers everybody! let’s get fucked up!” one of the pledges, kenny, yelled out. he held his bottle up to the sky, and everyone followed suit before throwing their heads back with the bottle to their lips and drinking as much as they could in one go.

cody hated cheap vodka, especially new amsterdam. not only did it burn like hell going down his throat, the taste was absolutely horrendous. he brought the bottle down from his lips after a moment, sticking his tongue out and making a noise of disgust as he walked over to roman and his cousins. on the way, cody greeted the rest of the pledges.

“just barely made it, uce.” roman mused, throwing his arm around cody’s shoulder before taking a short swig out of his bottle.

“got preoccupied.” cody answered, reaching a hand out to fistbump jey and jimmy in greeting.

“oh yeah, pretty girl y/n had a doctor’s appointment, right?” jey asked, clanging his bottle with his brother’s before taking another swig.

it seemed like everyone’s current strategy was to just drink as much as they could before the alcohol started tasting like stomach bile.

but cody couldn’t help but wonder what jey was talking about. y/n didn’t have a doctor’s appointment. instead of answering immediately, cody tipped his head back along with the bottle, letting a stream of, blegh, disgusting cheap vodka burn his throat.

“yeah, i almost made her late for her appointment. she left in a hurry.” roman laughed, his cousins shooting him a knowing look and wiggling their eyebrows suggestively.

cody eventually brought the bottle down from his lips when he felt as though he wanted to throw up from the taste alone. he shook his head, his eyes squeezing shut as he groaned out, “these assholes didn’t even leave out chasers? i fucking hate amsterdam, this shit’s nasty.”

“cheers to that, brother.” jimmy mused, the topic of y/n’s appointment having officially been dropped by the four. cody hesitantly brought his bottle up with the other three, not knowing if he’d be able to take the taste right now, but he’d look like a fucking pussy if he didn’t.

everything became a blur after that swig he took with roman and his cousins, the four of them branching out to hang out with the other pledges. the room had gotten messy fast, with nick being the first one to yack not even thirty minutes after the door was shut on them.

cody didn’t even know what time it was anymore, but he did know that he had half a bottle left and so did roman, jimmy, and jey. kenny was almost done, only having a quarter of his bottle left. matt had already left, the man chugging the final third of his bottle in one go in front of max and throwing up what he had just drank  the second he stepped out of the door. nick was barely making a dent in his bottle, but that was because most of the vomit in the various trash bags were his. he had forgotten the others’ names, but cody just knew that they were absolutely fucked beyond relief. one of them hadn’t lifted his head from his trash bag yet and was still emptying his stomach.

cody’s vision had grown hazy, his mind cloudy, and his stomach was threatening to turn itself inside out. he was sat on a couch with roman to his right and roman’s cousins beside him. in one hand, cody clutched the neck of his bottle, in the other hand, cody held a bag of his vomit. the three other men sat beside him were in the same predicament, but roman was glued to his phone.

“man, i don’t know why you don’t just convince her to get an abortion, uce.” jimmy slurred.

this suddenly piqued cody’s interest, turning his head to look at the man beside him. “abortion?” he slurred out in question.

roman sighed, turning off his phone and taking another swig of his bottle after clanging it against cody’s as if to tell cody to drink with him. “this bitch won’t stop fucking hitting me up about me having to ‘be in our kid’s life’ when i don’t even want the fucking kid. not like the kid is born, she’s only like a little over a month along.” he slurred, his words a jumbled mess after he brought the bottle down from his lips.

cody had simply taken a sip from his, his stomach contents threatening to come back up again.

roman seemed to have remembered exactly who he was talking to, and sent cody a warning look. both men knew that if they had gotten into a fight, roman could easily outpower cody. he was bigger than him, after all.

“don’t snitch. i know you and y/n are close, but if you fucking tell her, uce, then i’ll put you six feet under.” roman threatened, while jey and jimmy laughed beside him.

cody rolled his eyes. clearly roman had no idea where his loyalties lied. and obviously, that was with y/n. he’d just have to dig up more information and hope he remembered in the morning. “are we not pledging to be brothers right now?” he questioned, sitting up straight and holding his bottle out for jey and jimmy to clang their bottles together with his. “but why doesn’t she get an abortion?” cody questioned, watching as roman seemed to have trusted cody’s loyalty and clanged his bottle with theirs.

cody took a swig, blinking away at the tears that welled in his eyes and eventually bringing the bottle away from his mouth at the same time as the others. the taste had only gotten worse, and cody felt himself about to throw up again. he held it back though, as roman began to talk.

“some bullshit about how she’d go to hell. dude, she lives in your fucking building too, like two floors below you. i even tried offering to pay for the fucking abortion and she won’t budge.” roman groaned, pausing for a moment to pull open his trash bag and emptying his stomach into the bag.

the sight was enough to set off a chain reaction amongst jey, jimmy, and cody, as they followed suit. god, the things they would put their bodies through just to get the greek life college experience.

eventually, the four of them stopped yacking, wiping away at their lips with the back of their hands and leaning back against the cushion.

“she the christian girl you banged?” jey asked, his voice hoarse from the abuse they were putting their bodies through.

roman hummed and nodded his head. “easiest fucking money i ever made though. you know seth? he’s trying to be my big. but basically, he bet that i couldn’t get this super christian friend of his to fuck me, and i’m no pussy. condom broke and she insisted that she didn’t want to use plan b because it’s a sin but we literally just fucked. and now she won’t budge about aborting my kid.” he groaned, shaking his head. he turned to cody and raised a brow. “how close are you to y/n?”

cody scoffed, shaking his head. he couldn’t tell if roman was questioning where his loyalties lied once again, or if he was asking a genuine question. “man we all just fucking threw up together and you’re testing me on who i’m loyal to?” cody questioned, watching and roman shook his head and chuckled. of course, roman didn’t have to know that cody was going to absolutely stay awake until he got to tell y/n everything. if he blacks out now, cody was certain he wouldn’t remember.

“no, i just wanna know if she’s a virgin.” roman said with a sigh, relaxing back against the couch and missing the way cody’s jaw had clenched at roman’s choice of words. “man, i take her out for a date. say some sweet words. teach her fucking thermochem because she was struggling. get her that stupidly expensive bouquet, and she still hasn’t put out. if it weren’t for that fucking doctor’s appointment, i could be all happy and fucked out right now.” he laughed, pulling out his phone and going to his and y/n’s text messages.

jey and jimmy seemed to gain interest as soon as roman pulled up his and y/n’s text messages. the two twins leaned in to get a better view, and cody found himself interested in what roman was about to show. he certainly didn’t expect roman to pull up a photo that y/n had sent roman of herself. it wasn’t anything revealing, but it was certainly suggestive.

cody knew that had it been any other girl, cody would be drooling over the photo as much as jimmy and jey were in that moment. he also knew he would also be patting roman on the back, whooping and hollering in celebration. but this is y/n they were talking about.

“god she’s gorgeous. but she hasn’t sent any nudes even though our convos get sexual more often that i think any virgin would be comfortable with.” roman said, clicking off of the photo and scrolling to one of his and y/n’s suggestive conversations, holding it out for the three other men to read.

[roman] do you always have to pick a fight with me over the answers?

[y/n] i’m right, you’re wrong, deal with it.

[roman] you don’t even remember electron configuration.

[y/n] i’m right, you’re wrong, deal with it.

[roman] brat.

[y/n] and what about it?

[roman] i’d tell you to put that mouth to good use instead of running it off saying the same shit over and over again.

y/n had replied with a photo of herself with a lollipop on her tongue. jey and jimmy immediately whooped and hollered at the photo and laughed, while cody simply appeared uninterested.

[roman] i know something else you could be sucking on besides that lollipop, doll.

roman immediately turned off his phone before scrolling down to show the photo he had sent. “alright, forgot i sent a bulge pic in just boxers, not gonna lie. no free bulge for you fiends.” he laughed, shoving his phone back in his pocket. “but codes, you gotta tell me, man. she a virgin? usually by now i would have gotten pussy on like.. the second study date.” he asked.

cody shrugged his shoulders. “she isn’t. but i heard that first guy ruined other men for her, you know? sex so good she still hung up on him or whatever.” he mumbled, bringing the bottle back up to his lips to hide the smirk he had felt growing on his face.

roman rolled his eyes, watching cody take a sip of his vodka before nudging him with his shoulder. “man, everyone here knows i got the best stroke game around. no one comes close.” he bragged.

“yeah, you also got a girl pregnant.” jimmy laughed, and although jey and cody found it funny, clearly roman thought otherwise.

he clenched his bottle tighter in his hand, groaning and shaking his head. “man this is why i need pussy. every fucking waking moment has been filled with just this stupid fucking devout christian bitch begging me to be present in our unborn baby’s life when i just want her to abort it. but if i go off and find some random hookup, i feel like y/n’s going to find out and then won’t ever think about fucking me because she thinks we have a thing going on.” he mumbled.

jey laughed, and said, “man you only have until the end of the semester and you said that was way longer than you needed. looks like i’m about to be 500 bucks richer by the end of this, big uce. i already told you little miss good shoes lab partner would never fuck you.”

cody knew he was too drunk to win a fight, and he’d certainly get kicked out of the frat if he threw a punch at roman right now. one glance down at cody’s bottle and he saw that he wasn’t even two thirds of the way through his bottle yet, and although he had been drinking there was still closer to a half of the bottle left than a quarter left.

he now knew why y/n had said one of his red flags was that cody wanted to pledge for a frat. he also understood why women had such a bad impression of guys like them. if this conversation was about any other girl, cody would happily pitch in his own money on roman’s bet and even throw in that he could probably sleep with the girl before roman does.

roman wasn’t good enough for y/n, and the way he had been acting was simply to get some pussy… and cody was just as bad as roman was…

but instead of picking at his own hypocrisy, cody brought the bottle to his lips once again, let his throat burn, and felt the world turn black.

|| next part ||

[rfsak2]

Spitfire, Pt. 6

Hello friends! This was fun to write. A lot of stuff happened this season so I’m worried it’s a bit disjointed. Hope you enjoy it.

Drop me a line and like if you do!

Spitfire, Pt. 6

Everyone always thought Daryl was the rough one. DarylxOC

Warnings: violence, emotions, injuries, smut under the cut, lots of bad language words

Part 5

**

“Alright.” Daryl drawled. “Got four of them pricks coming our way.”

“Y’all know what to do. Go for their eyes first. Then their throats.” Rick wrapped his belt around his hand and nodded to Mitzi. “Mitzi, if we can’t get free, see if you can shake them up. Take one out.”

Daryl grunted, shaking his head. He pulled her back into him, arm around her waist.

“Hey.” She turned and pressed her lips to his cheek. “It’s okay. I got this.”

“Nah. No way.” He shook his head. “Yer all beat up.”

She nodded. “I’ve had worse and I’ll make it quick. Those dicks won’t see me comin’. They’re too used to things going their way, people rollin’ over and showin’ their bellies.”

He pressed his forehead to hers. “I can do it.”

“Baby, we need to get outta here.” She caught his eyes and held them. “They think they got us cornered. That the threat is eliminated because they took our weapons. I’m gonna show them they have nothin’. Besides, it’ll be more shockin’ for me to do it.”

Daryl sighed and nodded. “A’ight.”

They all arranged themselves in a semi-circle around the door.

“Put your backs to the walls on either side of the car now.”

Mitzi cussed when the sky opened up above her, she could hear someone gasp to her side. 

The men above threw in a flash bang, Abraham shouting for everyone to ‘move!’. She ignored him, averting her eyes and squatting to cover her head with her arms. 

When the flash was over, she straightened, head ringing, and settled back into some sort of a fighting stance. The door opened slightly, a beam of light breaking through the smoky darkness, and she moved quickly to stand next to the main door. 

Two men entered cautiously and she waited until one was inside before throwing herself at him. Using the smoke to get in behind him, she kicked at the back of his knees and reached around to break his neck as he fell to them.

There was stunned silence from behind and she turned over her shoulder to look down at them, smiling. “That all ya got?”

There was a flurry of activity above her, cussing and frantic steps on the metal.

“Fuck, they’re supposed to all be out!”

“How is she still awake?” 

She turned to the one who had entered behind the corpse now lying still at her feet. 

He held up his hands only to be dragged out by a third man. She could vaguely see them watching her through the smoke and moved to stand over the dead man’s head. 

A second later, both men reentered the train car, after some hesitation she noted, and one raised a gun to her head. Through his gas mask, she saw him swallow. “Back up. Against the wall.”

She did, head tilted at a cocky angle, and held her hands up as she pressed back towards where Daryl lay on the floor, standing over him protectively.

Two more men reached in and dragged the dead man out, more than likely to prevent her checking him for weapons. 

The man holding her at gunpoint shook. “Let’s take her too.”

Daryl groaned, shaking his head as if to clear it, hand reaching up to her thigh. “Don’t fuckin’ touch her.”

She grabbed his hand, watching the now trio of men inch closer to her.

The leader, a man standing just outside the train car, shook his head, nodding at where Glenn lay prone. “No. Stick to protocol. Men first.”

One of the three in the car moved toward Glenn and she shoved forward.

“Back off.” The man shot at her feet in front of her, expecting her to flinch or back off. When she didn’t, her eyes meeting his wide eyes behind his mask, he swallowed again. 

“F-fuck.”

“Stick to protocol, don’t let her rattle you.”

“I’m already fuckin’ rattled, man!” He grunted frustrated. “I know why we take the men first. I get that it’s because they pose the biggest risk. But she just killed someone with her bare hands. She’s killed four of us now.” He pressed closer to her, barrel almost touching her forehead. “We need to take her out too.”

“I said no.” 

“Don’t worry, sugar. I’m sure I’ll prove you right soon.” Mitzi grinned. “You hurt any of my family and you can expect t’see me again. And the next person I take out, won’t go out so painlessly.” 

“J-just keep your back against the wall.”

She chuckled. “Y’all are battin’ outta your league with us.”

The leader motioned at Bob next, then Rick. When all three men were out, coughing on the concrete, the leader turned back to her. “Now the archer.”

She knocked the pistol out of the hand of the man holding her at gunpoint and shoved the heel of her palm up into his nose. There was a sick crunch and he slumped lifelessly. She lurched forward for the gun, one of the two remaining moved in and hit her over the face with the butt of his rifle. She shot up and nailed him in the face with a quick right hook before his companion shoved her back against the wall, gun to her cheek. 

“Fuckin’ stay there, bitch.”

Daryl was calmer than she expected when they pulled him to his feet. He looked back at her and shook his head.

**

“I’m fine.” Mitzi groaned as she lowered herself onto a log. “Really, I’m good, just stiff.”

Daryl grunted. “Y’can barely walk. Don't tell me you're good.”

“First, that's a gross overstatement of the facts.” She smiled and knocked her forehead against his. “Second: baby, I’m fine.”

He ignored her and pressed at her knee. “It’s swollen.”

“You’re swollen.” She groused and jumped when she felt another set of hands on her shoulder. 

Carol tsked at her, feeling around her bruised shoulder. “You popped it back in yourself?”

She sighed and nodded. “Wasn’t the first time. It’s no big deal.”

Rick chuckled. “I’m not gonna lie, the number of women I personally know who can reset their own joints… makes me vaguely uncomfortable.” 

There was a faint smattering of noises of agreement. Rick paused and turned to Michonne. 

She nodded. “A couple of times, at least.”

Eugene nodded. “Women have been statistically proven to better tolerate pain and to have more flexible joints.” He paused. “But then, they are also shown to have higher density of pain receptors, thereby feeling said pain more intensely.”

Mitzi arched an eyebrow at him. “Thanks, Eugene.”

He nodded sharply.

Daryl nodded at Carol. “She’s got some goose eggs on her head, a black eye startin’ up, and coupla broken ribs, haven’t had a chance to set n’wrap ‘em.”

Carol nodded at Daryl and shifted to feel at her eye socket then moved to the back of her head as Daryl started lifting her shirt, checking her ribs as gently as he could. 

“We shouldn’t wrap them. Doctors used to, but it’ll make it hard for her to breathe. It could collapse her lung.” Maggie pulled an old torn piece of tent from her pack. “We can use this to make her a sling, though.”

Carol sucked at her lip. “We should take her shirt off.” Daryl looked up at her, questioning. “We need to check, make sure the bruising isn’t getting worse. It could tell us if she’s bleeding internally.”

“Can we stop talkin’ like I ain’t here?” When she was ignored, she huffed. “Is this really necessary?”

“Yes.” Carol brushed her knee against Mitzi’s side. 

Mitzi sucked in a breath, hand instinctively gripping at her side. 

“Are you in pain?” Carol knelt to look at her, batted her eyes at her.

“When did you get so mean?” Mitzi chuckled breathlessly. 

Carol blew her a kiss. She turned back to Daryl. “Did you see her side before Terminus?”

“Yeah. I saw it.” Daryl gently helped Mitzi pull her shirt over her head, Carol supporting her as she slumped forward. He shifted so he was blocking most of the group’s view of her. “Could be kinda difficult to tell though, with all’a her tattoos.”

“You do have a lot of tattoos.” Carol re-examined her shoulder as Daryl checked her side. 

“Had money and time to burn.” Mitzi tried to shrug and thought better of it. “Found a tattoo artist I clicked with and I was off to the races.” She grinned at Daryl and then up at Carol. “Is this a bad time for a threesome joke?”

Daryl pegged her with a hard look. “Stop it.”

Rick chuckled despite himself, shaking his head. “Mildred Elizabeth. There are children present.”

Maggie bit her lip, smiling. “Is it getting harder to breathe at all?”

Mitzi rolled her eyes. “Not when people ain’t pushin’ and proddin’ at me.”

Daryl clenched his jaw, clearly not amused. “Wouldn’t have to poke n’prod if y’didn’t act like a fuckin’ fool.”

“Baby-”

He shook his head and ran his thumb gently over her torso. “Looks th’same.”

It took twice as long to attempt to get her back into her t-shirt. When that failed, Daryl shook his head and pulled one of his button-ups out from his pack. When she was dressed, overlong sleeves rolled up to her elbows as best as possible, Maggie moved in with her hand-fashioned tent sling. 

Mitzi shook her head. “Oh, come on.”

Carol helped keep Mitzi still as Maggie arranged the blue and green tarp sling around her shoulders. Daryl gently fed her arm through the hole and settled her elbow in the corner. 

They all stepped back to survey their work.

“How am I supposed to hold a gun?” She huffed, pouting up at Daryl.

Daryl made a face right back. “You ain’t.” He handed Sasha the M110. “Sasha’s gonna hold your gun.”

Sasha shouldered it, fighting off a smile. “I’ll take good care of it.”

Mitzi sighed, nodding. “Yeah, I know.” She looked around her. “Where’s my bag?” 

Daryl held up his pack. “I’ve already added your pack to mine. You gonna focus on walkin’ and nuthin’ else.”

“D-“

“No.” He shook his head, shouldered his pack and wrapped his arm around her uninjured side, lifting her as gently as he could. “Y’made the decision to act a fool and now you’re payin’ the price.”

Carol nodded, steadying Mitzi on her feet. “Can’t do bed rest, but a strict three to four weeks of no lifting, or carrying-“

Daryl added. “Or firin’, or climbin’-“

Glenn grinned. “Or running, or jumping, or punching, or kicking, or repelling-“

Rick joined in, infinitely amused. “And no cussin’.” Mitzi turned to glare at him. “Believe it or not. Helps in healin’.”

She scoffed. “Judith has heard more cussin’ from your mouth, Richard, than she has from mine.” She sucked her tongue. “Using my full fuckin’ government name.”

“Actually.” Eugene fiddled with his hands. “Cussing has been shown to increase the release of endorphins thereby increasing pain tolerance.”

She stuck her tongue out at Rick. “So there.”

“Wait!” Tara stepped forward and shone a flashlight in her eyes.

Mitzi reared back and groaned, Daryl letting her lean against him to regain her balance.

Mitzi let him steady her. “What was that for?”

Tara grinned. “Nothing, just wanted to be included.”

Mitzi gaped after her.

Abraham giggled. “The balls on this crew, my god!” He slapped his thigh. “That woman just took down two men, twice her size, bare-handed with a recently dislocated shoulder, a sprained-or whatever-knee, two broken ribs and what- a concussion? And y’all are fuckin’ with her like she’s harmless.”

Rick laughed, knuckling at her forehead. “She is harmless… for three to four weeks. Daryl’s gonna make sure of that.” 

Daryl bit back a smile as he tightened his arm around her waist to keep her from lurching forward. Carol tsked and grabbed her wrist when she tried to swat at Rick’s hand.

Michonne grinned. “Gotta get our licks in until she can chase us again.”

“Fuck all y’all.” Mitzi flicked Rick off, Daryl chuckling under his breath. “I will kill you in your sleep, Richard. Me n’Daryl will adopt Judith and Carl and we will call you Dick Grimes for the rest of my life.” 

Carl nodded. “Grimey Dick.”

“Yes!” She pointed at Carl. “I like where your head’s at.”

“And me?” Michonne smiled.

“Nuthin’, I like you too much.” She groused. “And I’m not sure I can take you one handed… so there’s that.”

Rick laughed and walked over to press a hard kiss to the top of her head. “Alright, let’s get movin’.” He turned to Carl, who grinned back cheekily. “And you, watch your language.”

As Daryl led her past them, Mitzi hooked her hand in Carl’s elbow, pulling him along with her. She turned over her shoulder and made a face. “Don’t be talkin’ to my boy like that.”

“Yeah, dad.” Carl stuck his tongue out at Rick. “Don’t be talkin’ to her boy like that.”

**

She kicked at a rock, bored, used to being on guard, gun in hand.

Daryl turned to her, walking backwards in front of her with his eyebrow arched. “Stop whinin’.”

“I ain’t said anythin’.” She glanced up at him. “I’m just bored.”

Daryl nodded and stopped her gently, hand on her uninjured shoulder. Abraham and Rosita passed them with small smiles.

Daryl tilted her head back, hand on her jaw and pressed his forehead against hers. “Y’died.”

She opened her mouth and he shook his head, laying his thumb over her lips.

“I didn’t think there was any way y’coulda survived. Y’died. And I get ya back, all bruised and beat up, and then y’go off n’throw y’self inta danger like y’don’t mean anythin’ t’anybody.”

She shook her head. 

He shushed her. “So you’re gonna rest.”

She sighed. “I’m not good at resting.”

“Mhmm. I got that.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead and turned to walk behind the group alongside her. 

They were silent for a few moments. She raked her hands through her hair and started picking at her fingers. “I wasn’t tryin’ to throw myself into danger.”

He nodded, reaching over for her hand to stop her picking. “I know.”

“Somethin’ needed to be done.” She sighed and leaned against his arm. “I just knew that I could do it.”

“I knew-know- y’ could do it too, prolly have done it, or somethin’ like it, a million times before all’a this.” He turned away from her, scanning his side of the forest. “But y’dont hafta and I’m gonna speak t’Rick ‘bout always askin’ ya to do this shit.”

“Baby, we need me to do the things I do.”

He shook his head, looking behind them before focusing back on her. “I need ya, Spitfire. With me. Alive. It doesn’t always hafta t’be you, my woman, my wife, in the line of fire. Sometimes, we can’t avoid it, know that, but-” He spared her a hard look. “I heard what y’told Carl when Lori died, it doesn’t always hafta be you. We’re part of a team, a family. There are other people who can help defend us. I can defend us.”

Mitzi nodded. “That’s fair.”

“Besides…” He hesitated. “I don’t want ya injured because of me again.”

She shook her head. “Baby, you're my husband. I will always have the instinct to step in when it comes to you.” 

“I don’t mean it that way.” He breathed out roughly. “I mean… this is m’fault.”

She frowned, looking down at the ground. “What’s your fault?” 

He shook his head. “I shouldn’t ‘ve left. I shoulda stayed and made sure y’were okay.”

She made a comforting noise and pressed against him. “D, you didn’t know I was alive.” 

“I shoulda checked.” He clenched his jaw. “You were lying’ in a pile’a ash n’ I just left’ya there.”

She pulled him to a stop. “Baby, you were fighting in a battle, a situation where stopping would’ve meant death-“

“N’I left ya there t’die!” He cast a look around them, up at Rosita and Abraham ahead of them. “I just gave up! Jus’ like I stopped lookin’ for that asshole. If I had found ‘im, none of this woulda happened.”

“You don’t know that.” She reached up with her uninjured hand and pulled his head down to hers. “Lotta things coulda happened. Y’wanna know the one thing that coulda changed what happened that day?”

He sighed, humming, noncommittal.

“If the Governor hadn’t done it. That’s the only thing that could’ve changed that day for sure.” She caught his eyes and held them. “I’m glad you didn’t wait, didn’t look for me. That you got Beth outta there.”

He scoffed at the mention of Beth. “And then lost her.”

She brushed the hair from his eyes. “D, you can’t control any of this. You can’t. Shit happens, shit happened. I know you fought like hell for Beth. I know you did. It’s not your fault that someone took her. Just like it’s not your fault that they tanked the guard tower or attacked the prison.”

He nodded and they started walking after the group. “If- When I figure out who took her…”

She looked up at him when he trailed off. 

“I’m gonna go get her.” He caught her eyes and held them.

She nodded. “‘Course.”

**

“I’d like to propose a toast.” Abraham stood, glass of wine in his bear paw of a hand, the glass looking dainty and breakable by comparison. “I look around this room and I see survivors. Each and everyone of you have earned that title. To the survivors!” 

Mitzi lifted her glass and touched it to Daryl’s as the other’s repeated the cheer.

“Is that all you wanna be?” Everyone settled again, eyes of Abraham. “Wake up in the morning, fight the undead pricks, forage for food, go to sleep at night with two eyes open, rinse and repeat?” Abraham glanced at all of them in turn. “‘Cause you can do that. I mean, you got the strength. You got the skill. Thing is, for you people, for what you can do, that’s just surrender. Now, we get Eugene to Washington and he will make the dead die and the living will have this world again. And that is not a bad takeaway for a little road trip.” 

He breathed deep before turning to address Eugene. “Eugene, what’s in DC?”

Eugene sat stiffly in his pew. He sighed. “Infrastructure constructed to withstand pandemics even of this FUBAR magnitude. That means food, fuel, refuge. Restart.”

Abraham smiled softly. “What do ya think?” He looked around and received a few nods. “However this plays out, however long it takes for the reset button to kick in. You can be safe there. Safer than you’ve been since this whole thing started.” He looked over at Rick. “Come with us. Save the world for that little one. Save it for yourselves. Save it for everyone out there, who doesn’t have anything left to do but survive.”

Judith cooed, babbling at Rick, who chuckled at her. “What was that?” He grinned, nodding at Daryl. “Daryl? Mitzi?”

She cast a glance at Daryl, who shrugged, then back at Rick. “I dunno, man… We do what you do, just faster, more efficiently and with more style.”

Daryl’s shoulder shook next to her. 

Rick covered Judith’s ears. “Screw you, Mildred Elizabeth Dixon.”

“Fuck you back, Richard Andrew Grimes.” Mitzi nodded. “Yeah, that’s right. I know your full name. What now, bitch?”

Rick chuckled, petting at Judith’s head. “How?”

“I happened to find a little somethin’.” She pulled out a wallet. There was a chorus of laughter and she opened it, showing the license picture to Daryl, who smiled. “What a baby-faced degenerate…”

Daryl passed it back to Glenn who reached for it. “Y’look even more like someone who goes by their full fuckin’ name without the beard.”

Mitzi chuckled. “Rick Grimes. I’m Rick Grimes.”

Glenn laughed. “What? Holy shit! You look so young.”

Rick, still smiling, turned to Carl. “You do that?”

Carl shrugged, making a zipping motion over his mouth.

Mitzi made a face. “First of all, I am an Army Ranger, I don’t need no one to get me nuthin’.”

Maggie chuckled. “So, he did.”

“I ain’t no snitch!”

Sasha laughed. “He absolutely did.”

Mitzi shrugged exaggeratedly.

Rick smiled down at Judith who was babbling again and nodded. “I think she knows what I’m gonna say… She’s in. If she’s in, we’re in.”

Abraham looked so relieved, he seemed to shrink. “Alright. Good.”

The conversation continued around them for a while after that, Mitzi finding her body growing increasingly heavy. Fighting back a yawn, she sat, drawing designs on Daryl’s jeans with an idle fingertip, leaning against his shoulder. 

“Go t’bed.” Daryl pressed a kiss to her head. “Y’ain’t gonna be able to go much longer without sleep.”

She swallowed a yawn, nodding. “A’ight.” She moved to lay her head in his lap, catching Carol sneaking out the door out of the corner of her eye and straightening.

Daryl made a noise in the back of his throat and Mitzi nodded. “She has been eyeing that door ever since she sat down.

“Gonna go figure out what’s goin’ on.”

Mitzi looked up at him and drew him down in a” kiss. “A’ight. Stay safe.”

He nodded and sneaked out. Mitzi settled back against the end of the pew, rearranging her and Daryl’s things, trying to take pressure off of her ribs. When she couldn’t get comfortable, she dug a pack of cigarettes out of Daryl’s bag. She stood, albeit stiffly, and nodded to Sasha. “Gonna go smoke.”

Sasha nodded. “Bob may be out there too. Can you look out for him?”

“Course.”

Mitzi settled onto the step with a low groan, sitting against the bannister to support the injured side of her body. Pulling a cigarette free from the pack with her lips, she lit it and settled as comfortably as she could.

The door opened and closed behind her, Abraham sitting next to her in short order. She considered him quietly, offering him a cigarette. He shook his head and they were silent for a long while.

“What do you think about going North?”

She blew out a stream of smoke. “DC is as good a place as any. The thought of going too close to a city makes me nervous, but if they go, if my family goes, I go.”

He smiled. “As good a place as any? Not sure about the cure?”

She tapped ash off of her cigarette. “Ain’t sure of anythin’ I can’t put my hands on. Call me a skeptic.”

He shook his head. “Pragmatic.”

“Horse of a different color.” She sucked on her cigarette. “Why do you believe?”

“I believe Eugene.”

She nodded. “I see that. Why do you believe him? He’s definitely the lab-type and he’s certainly intelligent, but what makes you believe him?”

He shrugged. “Feel it in my bones. This country isn’t done yet.”

She breathed out a faint chuckle. “So it’s patriotism you believe in, not Eugene. You believe in the institution that created Eugene.”

He considered that. “Maybe. Is that so bad?”

She smiled wryly at him. “No, not bad. My experiences say it’s naive, but not bad.”

He frowned. “Naive?”

“Naive.” She pulled a drag on her cigarette. She shook her head, blowing a smoke ring. “Look, man, I know you still believe and I don’t wanna ruin that for you, but I ain’t been there, not in years, well before all this shit. If I ever was.”

“What d’ya mean?”

“Patriotism. Doing what you can for the country.” She scuffed her toe in the dirt. “All that shit.”

He nodded. “With what you’ve seen-”

She shook her head. “Nothing t’do with that. Not really. Y’know when I got out of Basic, there was this group of enlisted dudes who regularly pooled their food stamps together?”

His head hung loose between his shoulders. “Yeah, I saw that too.”

“Politicians out spending billions on useless gadgets we didn’t even use because they were too expensive to risk losing and there are soldiers that can’t afford food.” She took another deep drag. “Hard to believe in an institution like that.”

“With all due respect.” He ran his hand down over his face. “Why did you join if not for God and Country?”

She hesitated, making a face. “Because I beat the shit out of my father and put him in the hospital for a month after his dealer killed my aunt. She was the only person aside from my brothers and my cousin who gave a shit about me.” She smiled and snubbed out her cigarette. “The military made it like it never happened. Come and kill people and we’ll pretend you never tried to kill your dad. Army or Jail.” She winced, huddling into her jacket. “Sorry to ruin the image.”

He grinned. “It’s still a pretty badass reason.”

She snorted. “If you say so.”

The door behind them slammed open and she jumped, wincing as she turned to watch Sasha run toward the cemetery. 

“What’s goin’ on?”

Sasha didn’t answer and Mitzi was struggling to her feet when Tyreese and Rick rushed past her. 

Rick turned and pointed at her. “Stay there. Daryl’ll fuckin’ kill me.”

She huffed and settled back down.

**

She felt Daryl settle next to her, pressing her back into the wall and facing out towards the barn door. 

She yawned and pressed up against him, winding her arms around him to dig under his shirt.

He grunted and grabbed one of her hands from under his shirt and threaded his fingers with her. She pressed a kiss to the back of his neck and hummed, nuzzling into him.

“Go back to sleep.”

“I will when you do.”

He hummed, lifted her hand to press a quick kiss to it.

She responded with a kiss of her own to the nape of his neck. “I love you.”

He nodded. “Love ya.”

She kept her voice low. “You are my favorite person in a group of my favorite people.”

He snorted.

“I will always remember Beth as someone who kept my favorite person alive so I could be with him again.”

He pressed his mouth to her skin again, and while she couldn’t see it, she could guess that his eyes were closed tight, trying to avoid falling tears where others could see him. He nodded. 

“I think if we ever have kids, one should be a Beth.”

He sucked in a breath discreetly. “A’ight.” He was quiet a long moment. “Yer middle name is Elizabeth. We could name ‘em after you n’her.”

She hummed, smiling against his back. “What’s your middle name? I realize I’ve never asked you.”

“William.”

The tone of his voice told her everything. She pressed a kiss to his back. “Are we gonna have a Daryl Jr.?”

He snorted. “No.”

“Why not?” She squeezed him. “We can call ‘em Little D. That’ll be cute.”

“Or we can name them somethin’ of their own.” He turned slightly over his shoulder to smirk at her. “Not make a kid carry my name.”

She scoffed. “You wanna name a kid after me but when I suggest naming your hypothetical son after you then all’a sudden it’s makin’ a kid carry your name.”

He chuckled. “You don’t go by Elizabeth, Mildred. And ‘sides we’re naming her after Beth.”

“Whatever. I’ll still find a way to name a kid after you. Dylan Dixon, Daniel Dixon, Declan Dixon. I actually like some of those.” She rubbed her face against his shoulder. “You ever wanted kids?”

He shrugged. “Never really thought ‘bout it. No reason to, before you.” He turned so he was facing her. She smiled and wiped at his face softly. “You?”

“Never really thought I’d be a good mom.” She shrugged. “My parents hated me and I think I assumed that I wouldn’t know what t’do with a kid of my own.”

He shook his head. “You’d be a good mom.”

“I think we’d do alright.” She moved his hair outta his face. “We may be a tad unorthodox and our kids would be interesting. But I think we’d do alright.”

He chewed on his lip. “Interestin’ how?”

She arched an eyebrow. “Let’s say we have a little one like you. Intense, focused, capable… Too serious for their own good…”

“Or one like you,” he wrapped an arm around her waist and brought her closer. “Bright, charmin’, passionate… a little tiny tornado in a human body.”

She smiled and pressed her nose to his briefly. “I ain’t charmin’.”

“Y’are.” He smiled softly. “Our kids are gonna be cool as fuck.” He kissed her softly chastely. “Don’t want ‘em yet though. Ain’t safe.”

She nodded. “No it ain’t. ‘Sides either gotta wait for my birth control to wear off or get someone to get it outta my arm.”

He frowned. “What d’ya mean?”

She hummed. “I’m on birth control. I thought I told ya about it.” He shook his head. “Never wondered why we ain’t had any pregnancy scares?”

He shrugged. “Neither of us live lives that are exactly stress-free. Figured that and nutrition mighta had somethin’ t’do with it.”

She chuckled. “Makes sense, but no, I have the birth control implant.”

He made a face. “Implant?”

She nodded and grabbed his hand, bringing it up to her shoulder. She felt around for a second and laid his finger against a raised area in her bicep. “Nexplanon. It was pretty new on the market. Got it right before the Turn. Bleeding for a week every month while camping in the desert is no fun.”

He grinned. “Glenn! C’here!”

Glenn frowned, rushing over, only to rear back when Daryl pressed his hand to Mitzi’s shoulder. “God! What is that?”

**

“They’re still your guns. You can check them out whenever you go beyond the wall. But inside here, we’ll store them for safety.”

Mitzi took a deep breath, casting a look at Daryl and Rick. Ricked sighed, hands on hips, and shrugged. Daryl kept both hands around the strap of his crossbow.

She purposefully hung back, allowing the rest of their group to go in front. When she was the last one left holding her gun, she sucked in a shaky breath.

Deanna motioned her forward, seeming to understand how scary what she was asking them to do was.

“Mitzi.” Rick’s voice betrayed his discomfort with the situation but also his desire for her to toe the line.

She rotated her head to look at him. He tilted his chin subtly. Daryl’s hand pressed into her back.

She grit her teeth, hands almost ringing around the barrel of her M110. 

Deanna stepped forward. “It’s still yours.” She smiled gently. “I haven’t had the chance to speak to you yet but I can tell by your bearing that it’s not likely you have been separated from that gun since well before the Turn. Am I right?”

She nodded, eyeing her as if she thought the much more frail, older woman would try to take it off of her. “This is a highly specialized weapon.” 

Deanna nodded. 

“If anyone touches it, and I will know immediately,  I will-“

Rick cleared his throat.

Mitzi turned to him and resisted the urge to flick him off. “If anyone touches my gun, I will smile real big as I punch them in the throat.” 

The woman taking possession of their weapons, Olivia, Mitzi’s mind supplied, gasped. 

Mitzi smiled. “Nicely, of course.”

Abraham threw his head back and laughed. Deanna soon followed, covering her mouth and chuckling into her wrist. Mitzi heard Rick groan and felt Daryl lean forward into her, chuckling softly against the back of her head.

Deanna seemed charmed. “You’ll ‘nicely’ punch them in the throat?”

Mitzi made a face, as if realizing how ridiculous it sounded. “Very nicely.”

Glenn started laughing and that seemed to break open the dam, the rest of her family seeming to leech tension in a sudden wave. 

Mitzi took a deep breath and shrugged. “In for a penny, I guess.” She handed her M110 over to Olivia, who looked briefly panicked and refused to reach for it.

Mitzi frowned. “It’s empty. You’re not gonna accidentally shoot yourself. I wouldn’t hand you a loaded gun.”

Rick chuckled. “I think she’s worried about being punched in the throat, Mitz.”

Mitzi bit her lip as another round of laughter broke out. “Right.” She turned back to Olivia. “If I put this on your cart, it will fall off. I don’t want it to fall off. You can hold it.”

She hesitantly took the rifle and put her arm through the strap. “Should’ve brought another bin.”

**

“Mitzi Dixon.” Deanna smiled. “It’s nice to be able to speak to you.”

Mitzi nodded vaguely. “You too, guess.”

“You’re married to Daryl, right?” Deanna leaned back against the couch she was sitting on. Mitzi briefly envied her ease. “How long have you been married?”

“Depends on what you consider married. We decided we were married like six months ago.”

“Decided?” Deanna smiled.

“Decided.” Mitzi nodded affirmatively, as if Deanna was judging her. “Neither Daryl or me are religious, especially not now. Don’t have any need for some big shindig. Just decided we were married. Been together since just about the Turn. Felt right.”

“Sounds right.” Deanna nodded. “Do you think you would’ve gotten married before the Turn?”

“To Daryl, absolutely. To anyone else? Doubtful.”

“You think you would’ve married Daryl if you had met him before the Turn?” 

Mitzi frowned. “Know I would’ve. We work now and we woulda worked then, even if.”

Deanna hummed. “I feel very similarly about my husband Reg. I cannot conceive of a timeline or universe in which I wouldn’t have loved him.”

Smiling softly, Mitzi nodded. 

“I heard he calls you Spitfire.” She smiled. “How did that come about?”

Mitzi chuckled. “I have a temper. I have been… known to get into verbal altercations with stupid people.”

Deanna snickered. “Consider me warned. Though it’s not much of a surprise.”

Mitzi shrugged. “No… imagine not.”

“What did you do before the Turn?”

Mitzi sighed. “I was in the Army.”

Deanna smiled. “I figured, you hold yourself like a soldier. What did you do?”

Mitzi stared at her for a quiet moment. “I was an Army Ranger. A sniper.”

“Mildred-”

“Please don’t tell me you read ‘bout me or some sh-” Mitzi grimaced. “Crap.”

Deanna nodded. “Sure, of course. It makes sense you survived. I’m glad you made it.”

Mitzi seemed unconvinced, but nodded vaguely.

“Your husband doesn’t seem to want to be here.”

“Neither of us are used to this, now or before.” Mitzi shrugged. “I wouldn’t ‘ve ever thought to live here or anywhere like it. Wouldn’t ‘ve felt comfortable here.”

“So it’s about the wealth that usually comes with a place like this?”

Mitzi shook her head. “I made money. Maybe not enough for a place like this, but I made more than enough for me.” She caught and held Deanna’s eyes. “People who feel comfortable in places like this don’t generally feel comfortable with people like me and Daryl. Besides, with things the way they are now, people who feel comfortable in places like this don’t generally last long enough to matter.”

Deanna seemed stunned. 

“Just sayin’. Not tryin’ to be rude.” Mitzi started picking at her thumb. “I don’t want people to die, but there’s not much that can be done anymore either.”

Deanna smiled. “Maybe we can change that.”

“Change what?”

“Survivability.” Deanna nodded. “I understand what you’re saying. The others said similar things. If you don’t know, if you fear that this place isn’t sustainable, why would you agree to come here?”

Mitzi scoffed. “Because my family needs this. Needs to be safe. Carl and Judith deserve to live someplace more permanent. Rick got us this far, went above and beyond, survived more, lost more than anyone had any right to expect of him. He deserves to rest. My husband, who is selfless to his core, risked his life everyday to make sure we continued to live, deserves to rest.”

“You deserve to rest.” Deanna smiled gently.

“Mmm… Maybe.”

**

“Now’s the time.”

“What?” Daryl drew his whetstone down over his knife. “For what?”

“To take a shower.” Mitzi leaned up against the door to the house. “Everyone is off doin’ whatever and you, love of my life, you are gonna shower.”

Daryl scoffed. “Carol put ya up to this?”

Mitzi laughed. “Carol? No, Carol did not put me up to getting my very sexy husband exactly where I want him, naked and wet in a shower.”

Daryl blushed and looked down the street. “You already showered.”

She nodded and sauntered towards him. Grabbing his hand, she coaxed him to stand and move toward the door. “I’m willing to sacrifice and take another shower so my man can fuck me silly.”

He still seemed hesitant, though his interest was piqued. She tilted her head and paused. “What’s wrong, baby?”

He shuffled. “Don’t trust this.”

“I get that.” She stepped against him, propping her chin on his chest so she could look up at him. “I don’t trust it neither.”

“Don’t wanna like this too much. Get useta it. Lose it.” He sighed. “It’ll make us vulnerable.”

“I agree.” She smiled. “But these people… the danger is in their vulnerability not ours. I doubt they could even stomp out a bug, much less kick down a door.”

He nodded and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

Smiling, she tugged on his hand again. 

Daryl followed her through the door and up the stairs, pausing only to lock the door. “Been awhile.”

She nodded, drawing him in for a kiss. “Ain’t been safe enough to sneak away for a quickie.”

“Never did like quickies anyways.” He smirked and leaned in for a ghost of a kiss as she led him into the bathroom. “Don’t like havin’ t’rush.”

“Me neither. And here we are.” She smiled, toeing the bathroom door closed. She leaned in and mouthed at his chest. “All the time in the world.”

She walked further into the frankly enormous bathroom and held her arms up. “I think it’s the size of my apartment in Savannah.”

He cast a dubious look around. “It’s somethin’.” He cast his eyes at the large tub in the center of the room. 

She followed his line of sight and grinned. “All the time in the world, baby. Bath or shower?’

He shrugged, biting his lip. “Never fucked ya in a bath before.”

“Decision made.” She leaned over and started the bath. She sat on the side of the tub and untied her boots.

He smiled and knelt at her feet to tug her boots free. Grabbing a handful of his shirt, she pulled him into a kiss.

Grinning against her mouth, he caught the edge of her t-shirt. He pulled it over her head and leaned down to press kisses to her sternum.

She smiled, stood, and reached up to unbutton his shirt. When she reached the bottom button, she parted his shirt and vest and ran the flat of her tongue up over his nipple. He groaned and dug his hand into her hair, pulling her hair tie free and fluffing her hair down over her shoulders.

She pushed his shirt and vest off in one motion and added them to the pile of her clothes. He helped her pull her sports bra over her head, her shoulder still stiff and hard to maneuver around.

Dropping it on the clothes pile, he cupped her breasts, one in each hand and pressed them together. With a wicked smile, he caught her eyes and held them as he licked into the seam her breasts created. 

She smiled around a moan and moved to work at his belt. She pushed his pants and briefs down over his hips and knelt to untie his boots. Making a noise deep in his chest, he kept her upright, leaning in to kiss her as he toed his boots off and stepped free of his pants. 

Slipping her tongue into his mouth, she unbuttoned her jeans. He wrapped an arm around her waist, jaw working against hers as he supported her. She stepped out of her jeans and underwear, hands framing his face.

He pulled away and grinned, leaning over to seal his mouth around her nipple. Pulling her into him with hands full of her ass, he groaned her name in a low rasp against the skin of her breast.

He bit at her nipple gently, before mouthing at the swell of her other breast. Hissing, she dug her fingers into his ass and arched up into him. 

She moaned his name, moving to tug at his hair as he switched between breasts. Glancing down at the water, she removed one hand from him long enough to test the temperature. 

“Almost.”

“That’s good, I guess.” He moved to capture her lips again, swallowing her giggle. 

Looking back down, she caught sight of buttons on the side and hummed. “Look, D.”

He pressed a kiss to her temple. “What?”

She smiled and pointed down. “I think it's like a jacuzzi.”

He snorted as she turned to inspect the buttons and pressed up against her from behind, setting his chin on her shoulder. She pressed a button and jumped a little when the water started bubbling and churning under the force of the jets. 

“The things rich people waste money on.”

He hummed in agreement. 

“Wonder what’s in there.” She pointed to a glass and metal shelf to the side of the tub. She moved toward it, laughing when he refused to let her go and instead walked against her over to the shelf. 

She picked up a lid off of a dark glass jar. “Bath bombs.”

“What?” He looked over her shoulder and shook his head at the smell emanating from the jar. “Smells like old lady perfume.”

“Right. No bath bombs.” She set the lid down and turned in his arms. 

He shrugged. “We can if’n you want.”

She made a face and moved his hair out of his face. “No, I’m good. Don’t really wanna smell that strong either.”

He lifted his hands from the small of her back and cradled her jaw in both hands. He kissed her, softly, sweetly, and moved her back towards the tub. She tested the water and nodded against his mouth. “It’s ready. Just gotta get soap and shit.”

“I’ll do it.” He rasped and tapped her ass. “Get in.”

She sat in the center of the tub, hissing as the warmth loosened the tension in her body almost immediately. She smiled as he sniffed at the collection of shampoos, conditioners and soaps.

“All’a this smells like flowers and shit.”

She grinned and pointed to the glass-walled shower. “I think what Rick used yesterday is still in there.”

He nabbed the bottle of men’s shampoo and sniffed it, nodding. 

“Might as well wash up in there. As much as I love your protective layer of dirt, I’d rather not sit in it.”

He made a face. “Fuck you.”

She grinned. “Get clean and you can.”

He scoffed and leaned in to turn the shower on. He kept his eyes on her as he soaped up, grinning as he worked soapy water over the length of his cock.

She moaned softly, eyes alternating between his hand and his eyes. He grinned and stopped, stepping under the shower head and rinsing clear. He washed his hair, rinsed and then moved to step out of the shower. 

“You tease.” She tsked. “Use the conditioner too.”

“Don’t need conditioner.”

“Yes, you do.” Mitzi moved to set her chin on her forearms on the lip of the tub. “Love your hair, D, but if you don’t want to keep it short, you’re gonna take care of it, while we can.”

He huffed and raked conditioner through his hair with quick, probably ineffectual movements.

Rinsing it out quickly, he stepped out and stepped into the tub. He leaned back and groaned lowly as the jets massaged at his back.

With a low hum, he pulled her back against his chest.

She leaned up to kiss at his chin. “This is nice. Even nicer now that you’re clean.”

He nodded, chewing at the inside of his lip as he lifted water in his cupped hands. He poured the water over her breasts and then cupped them, massaging them lightly before pinching and pulling at her nipples.

She moaned and reached down to squeeze at his thighs. 

“It is nice. Not useta bein’ able to just have ya. No one else around, no looking over my shoulder, makin’ sure you’re safe.” He shifted to suck at her neck. “Y’can be as loud as y’want.”

She kissed at his chin, smiling widely. “Never cared to be quiet, baby.”

He chuckled against her neck, moving to suck at her shoulder. One hand drifted down, petting briefly at her stomach, before sinking in between her legs. 

She hissed as the pad of his middle finger touched briefly to her clit. 

“Gonna get you off this way first then you’re gonna bounce on my cock until you cum again. Kay?”

She nodded and he sunk his finger into her, thumb coming up to thrum at her clit. She moaned, caught between arching into the finger inside of her and up into the hand cupping her breast.

“Com’n, Pretty Baby.” He added another finger and set a punishing rhythm. “Love seein’ ya this way.”

“Love you too.” She gasped, one hand coming to claw at the wall of the tub. “Fuck, baby.”

He moved to suck another bruise into the column of her throat. He pinched at the nipple still in his hand. The middle finger of his other hand glided gently against her walls, finding the spongy little spot right behind her pubic bone he didn’t often have time to tease.

She gasped, back going ramrod, her thighs attempting to close tight around his hand. He chuckled, speeding up the motion of his hand, the hand on her breast coming down to hook around a thigh, keeping her legs open. 

His thumb pressed into her clit at the same time his middle finger found that same spot and pressed hard. Her body tightened in a hard motion, hand white-knuckled on the tub edge. 

“Holy shit!”

He smiled and pressed his lips to her temple. “Kiss me.”

She turned and caught his mouth, moaning into him as he continued to rock his hand into her, middle finger dragging against her with each retreat.

She pressed her forehead to his, panting against his mouth. 

His eyes were hot on hers. “Always look so pretty like this, Spitfire. Pretty n’ pink… mine. Y’gonna cum?”

She nodded. “‘Bout to.”

“Do it.”

She threw her head back against his shoulder and her back arched. She moaned his name loudly, loud enough that her voice rang in his ear long after she collapsed against him.

“Good girl.” He hummed, rutting his hips into her ass just enough to take the edge off. “Only problem with doing this in the water is that I can’t lick ya off m’fingers.”

She gasped, core clamping down on his fingers again. “F-fuck.”

He chuckled and mouthed wetly at her jaw as he pulled his fingers free of her. She swatted at his thigh. “Holy fuckin’ shit.”

Pulling her earlobe into his mouth, he moved the hand that had been inside her up to her breast. There was a slick wetness that didn’t feel like water. “Jesus Christ. You’re tryin’ to kill me.”

He laughed. “Catch yer breath, you’re about to ride the fuck outta me.” He rolled her nipple between his fingers. Pinched it, hard.

She moaned. “Can’t catch my breath if you keep doin’ shit.”

“A’ight.” He grasped at her hips. “Lean forward.”

She turned to straddle him, but he stopped her, hand high on her back. She glanced at him, head tilted in confusion. 

“Just like this. Keep y’legs together.” He grasped her hips again and lifted her, grunting. “Put me in ya.”

She steadied herself with a hand on his thigh, reaching down pressing the head of his cock into her core. 

She sighed as he eased her back against his chest. “Fuck.” She breathed deep and petted at her clit.

“What?” He lifted her and groaned into her hair as he pulled her back in. 

She smiled and set her other hand on his thigh, helping him fuck into her. “You’ve always been big, but like this?” She chuckled breathlessly. “I can feel you fuckin’ everywhere.” She cast a look over her shoulder and grinned when she saw him blushing. 

“Stop.” He smiled. 

She winked at him. “Never.”

He planted his feet and fucked up into her. Gasping, she clutched at his thigh. He pressed a toothy grin against her back. “Not so fuckin’ smug now?”

She pushed against his thighs trying to speed up the rhythm. He groaned, shifting his hands to her breasts as she took over the rhythm. 

“Jesus.” She moaned, grinding back against him, shifting the angle he was entering her at. “Feel so good, D.”

He mouthed at her neck, grunting. “You too, baby. So tight. So fuckin’ wet.” 

She nodded. “All yours.”

“That’s right.” Squeezing at her breast, he pulled her down against him, grinding up into her. “You there?”

She nodded and moaned, one of his hands dropping to wedge in between her thighs. Alternating between petting at her clit and tracing where they were joined, he groaned. “That’s it, Spitfire, fuckin’ squeeze me.”

He felt her clamp down around him and thumbed at her clit with hasher, more firm circles. Her head fell back and she screamed his name. Groaning deep and loud, he followed her.

She had just settled back against his chest when they heard something that sounded suspiciously like a broomstick against the ceiling of the floor below.

They both froze. 

“Can you at least keep it down?”

**

“We need a constant patrol along the walls. Not just looking for damage, but signs that anyone climbed in from outside.” He tapped on the corrugated metal, not loud enough to ring the dinner bell for any undead-someone in the vicinity. 

About fifteen seconds later, Mitzi cleared the top of the wall and began climbing down the other side.

Rick looked at Deanna. “You can move right up the supports. That’s what I’d do. People are the real threat now.”

Mitzi nodded. “It wouldn’t take that long, be loud, or even be particularly dangerous. The only thing that would make it risky is walkers and we obviously don’t want any of them hanging around either so we’ll be effectively making it easier for someone bad to climb the walls.”

Deanna shook her head. “Rick, I know you think we should all be armed within the walls. I can’t do that.”

“That’s fine.” Rick nodded. “You make these changes, we won’t need to.”

Mitzi crossed her arms over her chest. “We just need to beef up, formalize security and we can go on living the way y’have been. Won’t always be lucky.”

“Excuse me.” Sasha walked up behind Mitzi. “I want to volunteer to be one of the lookouts in the clock tower.”

“There are no lookouts in the clock tower.”

Mitzi turned back to Deanna, aghast, at the same time Rick almost growled: “What?”

Michonne looked down at the small woman with a furrowed brow. “We saw someone up there earlier.”

Deanna grimaced. “That was an empty rifle my son Spencer put up there. He mans it sometimes, but not often.”

“Why even bother then?” Mitzi shook her head. “People aren’t gonna be scared of a rifle that never fires.”

Deanna looked between them, trying to soothe, smooth over. “Look, there hasn’t been a need.”

Rick set his hands on his hips. “We need a lookout in that tower right now, 24/7.”

Michonne nodded. “It’s the only way we’ll be able to see if someone’s coming at us.”

Deanna sucked in a breath. “Okay, Okay… we’ll make shifts.”

“I’ll take those shifts, as many as possible.”

Mitzi shook her head. “Sash-”

Sasha shook her head and Mitzi moved to speak again. Deanna cut her off. “Why?”

Maggie stepped in. “Sasha is one of our best shots. She can do it.”

Deanna turned to look at Sasha again. “I’m gonna put Spencer up there today. I’ll consider you being our primary lookout.”

“Consider?” Mitzi stepped forward. “I don’t think anyone-“ she shit a look at Sasha, “-should take all the shifts. It’s not healthy. But there ain’t nothin’ to consider. Sasha is almost as good as me with none of the formal trainin’. She’s a fuckin’ natural marksman. What is there to consider?” She reached out and squeezed Sasha’s forearm. 

“It’s not that.” Deanna held her hand up. “I want something in return.”

Sasha glanced at Mitzi, who arched an eyebrow. “You want something in return for Sasha protecting the community?”

“Tonight I’m hosting a welcome for all of you at my home.”  She looked specifically at Sasha, who looked even more confused. “I want you to be there.”

“Why?”

“Come tonight. Then we’ll talk about it.”

Sasha stared at Deanna for a moment longer and then walked away.

“On the topic of safety and security,” Deanna smiled. “I was hoping you’d help me with that, Mitzi.”

“How so?” Mitzi glanced up at Rick and Maggie. 

“I had hoped you’d improve our training regimen. All the necessary skills for runs, basic gun safety for those who routinely go outside the walls. Maybe even some hand to hand. If we want a watch on the walls, maybe you can coordinate that as well.”

Rick brightened, stepping forward. “Mitzi also maintained our armory at the prison, cleaning, cataloging.”

Deanna seemed to pause, considering that. “Olivia, as efficient as she is, doesn’t know much about guns. I’m sure she could use the help.”

Mitzi stared her down, skeptical. “When you say ‘improve your training regimen’-“

Deanna grinned, clearly aware that what she was about to say would irritate them. “I mean create one. We don’t have one.”

Mitzi’s jaw clenched. “How many of these people arrived here knowing how to use guns safely?”

“A handful. Most have figured it out as they went.”

“Figured it out as they-“ Mitzi sucked in a deep breath. “Yeah, okay.”

Michonne reached out to squeeze her shoulder. “Mitzi is very passionate about gun safety.”

“Do you know how many people died before the Turn because they fucked around with a weapon they didn’t know how to use?” Mitzi threw her hands in the air. “And now! One ill-timed shot and everyone on a run dies.”

Rick buried a chuckle. “Mitzi-“

“How have you been this lucky? I genuinely don’t understand.” Mitzi raked her hands through her hair, eyes wide. “Which one of you is blowing God?” She stuttered to a stop. “Holy Fuck!”

Deanna smiled. “That passion is why you’re taking gun safety, safety in general, over.” She reached for and shook Mitzi’s rigid hand. “I’m excited to work with you.”

Mitzi breathed deep, pinching at the space between her thumb and forefinger. “Whatever, I’m cool, I’m good.” She breathed deep again and nodded. “Can I ask you a question?”

Deanna nodded. 

“Why does Sasha bother you?”

Deanna started and Michonne nodded. “I was thinking the same thing.”

“I’m not bothered.” Deanna considered her words for a moment. “There is something about Sasha that makes me anxious, that’s true. Her behav-“

“She has lost two people she cared very deeply about in the last month.” Mitzi crossed her arms over her head. “She has PTSD. Hell, we all have PTSD. If y’all can’t understand that, give consideration for that, beyond the run of the mill, ‘oh, we see what y’all have been through,’ bullshit, this ain’t gonna work.”

“Why is that?” Deanna’s eyes were intense but not angry.

Mitzi glanced at Michonne and Rick. “I’m not tryin’ to be a bitch-“

“No, you’re just very direct.” Deanna smiled. “I appreciate it.”

Mitzi didn’t look like she believed her. “I won’t speak for anyone else, but I’ve never been one for hand-holdin’, that’s even more true now. This world is what it is. I recognize that y’all ain’t had to see it, experience it, here, but I’m not gonna wait around for y’all to catch up.” Mitzi shrugged. “I know that Michonne and Maggie and Rick have all tried to help y’all understand. If y’all don’t catch up quick, there will be a time when lagging behind the learning curve is gonna get someone killed.”

Rick nodded. “I agree with Mitzi. Y’all need to understand that what we’ve experienced is the norm, not the exception.”

“And I honestly don’t mean just out there. That’s where the danger is, sure. But we have changed because of this world. You all, while you’ve lost people, you’ve gone without, you’ve undoubtedly suffered, y’all haven’t had to change to survive this world.” Mitzi caught Deanna’s eyes and held them. “I already told you I have a temper. I’m gonna work at being patient with your people, but I’m not gonna hand-hold, treat y’all with kid gloves. Some of y’all think that because you have it good here, because you have held onto this place, that you’re somehow stronger, tougher, that you’ve made it. I don’t see it that way. Someone comes at one of us sideways on the wrong day and it could get ugly. Try as I might, I can't promise patience.”

Deanna nodded. “Thank you, Mitzi. That’s good insight.”

**

“Are you afraid of guns, ma’am?”

Mitzi snorted, opening her mouth to disabuse the dumbass of his dumbassery. Carol caught her eye.

“Mm… no. Well I had a handgun and I carried a rifle while we were on the outside, but I’m not an expert. Not with those at least.” She flashed him a demure smile and Mitzi arched an eyebrow, settling back against the wall of the armory, such that it was. “Not like Mitzi is.”

The man turned to consider her, and while Mitzi didn’t get the impression that he was a dick, the look he shot at her told her what he thought of her, vaguely apprehensive and more than a little skeptical.

“You’re an expert, ma’am?” 

Mitzi fought the urge to roll her eyes. “Yeah, y’could say that.”

Carol all but batted her eyelashes. “Mitzi was an Army Ranger.”

He looked shocked. “Didn’t think they let women in military spec ops.”

Mitzi chewed on the inside of her cheek, eyeing Carol’a performance. “They didn’t, just me.”

The man seemed to catch the drift Mitzi was putting off and turned back to Carol. “Well, my name is Tobin.” He smiled down at Carol and Mitzi wanted to throw up just a little bit. “And whenever you want, I’d be happy to teach you.”

Olivia, who had been quietly notating and observing, spoke up. “Deanna’s actually put Mitzi in charge of gun safety training.”

Tobin looked shocked, but politely so. “Is that right?”

Mitzi hummed. “Yeah, apparently y’all have just been figurin’ shit out as you went. Lucky none of ya have died due to poor gun handling.”

Tobin bobbed his head noncommitally.

Carol cast another look at Mitzi. “Thanks for the offer, Tobin.”

“Thanks for the offer, Tobin.” Mitzi picked up a box of shells and opened it. “Are you afraid of guns, ma’am?”

Carol looked over her shoulder at Olivia, who was still taking notes. “Stop.”

Mitzi shot her a look. 

“What?”

“Exactly my question. What was that about?”

She shrugged. “They don’t need to know everything about us.”

“I agree, but is it really necessary to play damsel in distress?” Mitzi made a vague motion with her hands. “Well, mister… I’m no expert.”

Carol shrugged. “They wouldn’t expect me to know how to use a gun.”

Mitzi huffed out a shocked laugh. “Then they’re fuckin’ dumb. How were you supposed to survive out there without at least some expertise?”

Carol looked over her shoulder again. “Mitzi, you know the play. We play things close to the chest and wait and see.” She cast Mitzi a look. “Behave.”

Mitzi rolled her eyes and nodded, waving her off before turning to Olivia. “A’ight. Show me how you got this organized.”

**

“Richard.” Mitzi sidled up to him, sipping at her beer. “I love you. You are my brother in every way that counts. That is a bad decision.”

Rick set his hands on his hips and looked down at her. “What d’ya mean?”

She shot him a look. “She is married. She is married to a surgeon. And while you and I know that occupation is no measure of worth. In this world, as it is, he is and will be seen as valuable for that reason alone. Allowances for any character fault will be made on that metric alone.”

“Yeah…” he sighed. “I know.”

“On top of that, he is from here. We ain’t- yet at least. He wins in every way.” She leaned against his arm and smiled up at him. “That sucks, I know it does because you are better than that pretentious dickwad in every way. But that is reality.”

He nodded. “When did you get so smart, Mildred Elizabeth?”

“Excuse the fuck outta you, Richard Andrew.” She grinned. 

“I hate you callin’ me by my full name.”

“No you don’t.” She grinned at him.

He grinned back. “I also hate how right you are sometimes.”

“I’m right most of the time.” She shoved his arm with her elbow as he snorted. “On a slightly related note, if you were to turn your gaze elsewhere, might I suggest our favorite swordswoman?”

Rick blushed. “Nah… I don’t- she wouldn’t be interested-“

Mitzi laughed. “Alright, boss. Keep tellin’ yourself that.” She finished off her beer and put the empty in a nearby, cleverly hidden trash bin. “On that note, Ima head out, find D. I’ve had ‘bout as much as I can stand.”

Rick ruffled her hair and she swatted at his hand. “Thanks, Mitzi.”

She nodded and snuck off towards the front door. Closing it softly behind her, she turned and caught sight of him leaning against a tree. She smiled and took a step down the porch stairs. “Damn! My baby looks good! All clean and wearing sleeves an’ shit.”

Daryl stepped closer to the porch, into the light, and eyed her quietly, reaching out to tug at the hem of her skirt. “Yer in a dress.”

“Carol made me. She wants to make a good impression.” She nodded and wrapped her arms around him. He stepped in closer, burying his face in her sternum. 

He pressed a kiss to her chest. “Y’look pretty.”

“Thank ya, baby.” She smiled, pressing a kiss to his head. “I think I already fucked it up though.”

He snorted. “How?”

“This dude was complaining about missing being able to golf.” 

He scoffed. “What did’ya say?”

She pulled back and winced comically down at him. “I asked him what was stopping him? Told him we could go out tomorrow if he wanted. Judging from Rick’s expression, that was wrong?” She shrugged. “I miss a lot of stuff from before, but like the variety of music and McDonald’s? Not fuckin’ golf.”

He smiled into her skin. “Sounds like a bougie asshole anyways.”

She nodded. “Alotta that in there.” She cast a look over her shoulder. “In fact… let’s start meandering back to the house that way I don’t hafta go back in there.”

He nodded, stepping back to allow her off the porch. She hooked her hand in his elbow as he stuffed his hands in his pockets. They started down the street, Mitzi feeling more at ease and less hurried than she had felt in a long while.

“Daryl.” Aaron stepped out on his porch and smiled down at them. “Mitzi. Hey.”

Mitzi smiled back as Daryl slowed, biting at his thumb nail as he looked up at the other man. Pointing back at Deanna’s house, he rasped, “Thought you we’re going to that party over there.”

Aaron shook his head with a small smile. “Oh, I was never going to go because of Eric’s ankle. Thank god.”

Daryl was tense and Mitzi frowned, moving to Tun at his back discreetly. “Why the hell did you tell me to go, then?”

“I said try, you did.” He shrugged. “It’s a ‘thought that counts’ thing.”

Daryl scoffed. “Alright.” He set his hand in the small of her back and moved her forward.

“Hey!” Aaron stepped closer to the edge of the porch. “Come in. Have some dinner.”

Daryl paused, tense again.

“Come on, man. It’s some pretty serious spaghetti.”

Daryl looked down at her and she smiled back. “Ain’t had spaghetti in a while.”

He sighed and pushed her toward the stairs. She caught his hand from the small of her back and pulled him gently towards the door.

Aaron held the door for them. She smiled at Eric as she passed where he sat waiting for them.

He made to stand and she waved him back down. “No, it’s okay.”

She near jumped when he grabbed her hand and squeezed it. “Thanks for joining us.”

She nodded and took the seat she was directed to. “Thanks for havin’ us.” She made a face. “Sorry, I’m a little outta practice with the whole dinner thing.”

Daryl made a face and took the seat next to her. 

She reached over and squeezed his knee. She caught his eye and mouthed, “we got this.”

**

“They’re just odd.”

Mitzi tried to focus on cleaning the rifle Tobin had returned earlier and not on the voices in the more food centered part of the pantry.

“I mean some of them are great! They fit in, they help.”

“I agree completely. Maggie and Glenn are wonderful… Well, Maggie is wonderful. I’m struggling a bit with Glenn after Aiden.”

“I know, I feel the same way. Carol is very friendly. Rick is intense but seems nice enough. But some of them… I’m sure they are good people but...”

“Did you know that one of them took the construction site from Tobin?”

“What? Why would Deanna allow that?”

Mitzi breathed deep, fighting the urge to correct them. “Patience,” she muttered to herself, setting aside the rifle and clearing a pistol.

“Some of them just don’t belong here. Sasha-“

“Were you there when she lost control at the party? I mean, come on!”

Mitzi shoved to her feet and made for the door to the armory. She thought better of it. “Patience, patience…”

“And that red-haired woman and her husband.”

“Something tells me husband is an exaggeration.” The woman laughed cruelly. “He doesn’t seem to be the type-“

Mitzi’s hand white-knuckled around the door knob.

“Probably tells him she’s pregnant. Doesn’t seem like he would know one way or another.”

“You’re so mean.” The woman twittered. “Did you know that Aaron asked him to be a recruiter?”

“I know!” She gasped, scandalized. “I actually asked Aaron about it. He was adamant that it was a good idea but like, how can it be a good idea? I’ve heard nothing but grunts and mutters from the man since the group got here. Don’t you have to speak coherently to be a rec-“

The door to the armory slammed open and Mitzi stalked at the women who blanched. 

“Thought I’d join your bitch fest, ladies. What else you got?”

One started stuttering out apologies.

“Oh that’s predictable.” Mitzi sniffed. “Now you ain’t got shit t’say? All that brass and now you’re fuckin’ silent?”

Olivia stepped forward, hands shaking. “Mitzi-“

Mitzi waved her off. “Nah, they grown. They talked shit and where I’m from, you talk shit, you get hit.”

The women backed up towards the open garage door. “We’re so sorry-“

“‘Bout what?” Mitzi advanced. “‘Bout what exactly? That fact that you mocked the difficulty we are all having here? Sasha reacted the way she did because the idea that someone would worry about what food someone else likes is fuckin’ ludicrous in this world. We didn’t have fuckin’ food less than a week ago. We ate dog.”

The women backed out of the garage door, hands held up. “S-sorry-“

“You still ain’t said what ‘bout.” Mitzi smiled meanly, following them out into the street. “You sorry that you didn’t mention that Noah died the same day as Aiden or that Tara’s head was split open? You sorry ‘bout insinuating that my friend Abraham carried out some sorta hostile takeover? Not that your friend Tobin couldn’t fuckin’ cut it? That he almost got someone killed and Abraham saved all their asses?”

“No…” One of the women sobbed.

“All those cajones and nuthin’ t’say for yourself.” Mitzi tsked. “Maybe you’re sorry for saying that I would need to trap a man to keep him? Or that my husband would be dumb enough to believe that I was pregnant just ‘cause I said it? Or that my man can’t talk coherently?”

“Mitzi!” Rick rounded the corner in front of her and ran full speed at her, Daryl on his heels. She looked around at the gathering crowd of aghast faces and marveled at how fast information spread.

One of the women tripped over her own foot and went sprawling. Mitzi rolled her eyes.

“You don’t fuckin’ get it.” Mitzi scoffed. “None’a ya do. Hol’up here in a fuckin’ ivory tower. Judgin’ us from on high like some kinda higher bein’. Like you done somethin’ other than gettin’ fuckin’ lucky. Bein’ in the right place at the right time.”

Daryl stepped into her line of sight. “Spitfire, ya need to breathe.”

She shook her head, stepping around him. “Ima make sure they understand. It’s passed time they do.”

Rick grabbed her shoulder and pulled her back. “Mitzi-“

She shook him off and advanced on them again, the woman who had fallen sobbed and crab-walked back. 

A man from Alexandria stepped in. “You need to back off.”

Daryl caught her arm before Mitzi had a chance to clock him. Rick stepped in between him and Mitzi and Daryl, who was still trying to talk her down.

Rick put his hand on the other man’s chest. “Don’t.”

The man scoffed. “Don’t what? You two can’t control her. She’s been strutting around the armory like she owns it. Intimidating poor Olivia and now she verbally assaulting-“

“Don’t start somethin’ you ain’t prepared for.” Rick growled. “She’s more than capable of killin’ you and we’re keepin’ her from doin’ it.”

The man laughed. “That bitch?”

Rick pushed Daryl back towards Mitzi.

“Don’t talk ‘bout my wife-“

“Or what?”

“Shut y’mouth before I shove my fist in it.” Mitzi pointed at the man and turned back to the women, Daryl’s arm back around her waist. 

She sucked in a breath and one of them winced. “I won’t hit ya even though y’fuckin’ deserve it. You ain’t worth one more minute of my time and you wouldn’t survive it if I did. You are weak and pathetic. You are cowards that wouldn’t last a single minute out there. I know that and I know that this mean-girl, high-school bullshit is more about self-medicating your mediocrity than it is ‘bout me or my family.”

The woman nodded. “T-thank you… we’re so sorry-“

“That bein’ said, if you ever speak ‘bout my family like that again, I will beat you into the ground. You hear me?” Mitzi stepped in, pointing at them. “If I ever hear my man’s name in your mouth, you will be black n’blue for a month. And no one will stop me, y’hear?”

They nodded and Mitzi scoffed, turning. Deanna stood directly in front of her, disappointed. “I thought you were going to try to be patient?”

Mitzi threw her head back and stepped closer to the older woman. “I didn’t fuck ‘em up. That is patience.”

She stalked off and Rick nodded after her. 

Daryl found her pacing through the solar panels. He leaned against one and pulled out two cigarettes lighting them together. 

She grunted in frustration, kicking at the dirt. 

“What happened?” He blew out a stream of smoke and passed the other cigarette to her.

She shook her head and took a drag on her cigarette. She made another wordless noise of frustration and kicked at the dirt again.

“Spitfire.”

“I know it was dumb. That I shouldn't've let them get to me.” She clenched her jaw. “But they’re so clueless, so naive. They think that they can just continue livin’ in this fairytale. That nothin’ has changed.”

Daryl nodded and ashed his cigarette. “What did they say?”

She sighed. “Stupid shit. Shit that doesn’t really even matter.”

“Shit about us?”

She nodded and glanced at him for the first time. “It was ignorant, fuckin’ bullshit.” She sucked on her cigarette again and blew out a smoke ring. “It pissed me off because they don’t know. They clearly don’t know.”

He watched her idly. “Know what?”

“They think that they are superior. Like they are more evolved because they held onto ‘civilization’.” She scoffed and shook his head. “But they are going to die. Maybe not soon, but if they don’t catch up, they’re going to die. They got lucky with us. If we had been anyone else…” She trailed off and Daryl nodded. 

“Y’right.” He caught her hand and pulled her to him. “Y’right, n’they will figure it out or they will die.”

“Or cause one of us to die.” She sighed and pressed her face to his chest. “I don’t want anyone else to die.”

“I know, baby.” He pressed a kiss to her head. 

Part 7

[sashi-ya]

𝑪𝒉𝒐𝒄𝒐𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝑩𝒐𝒙 𝑽-𝒅𝒂𝒚 𝑬𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒕 Finally Alone +18. 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐨 𝐱 𝐟! 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

Dear, @alexkanroji your 𝑭𝒓𝒊𝒔𝒔𝒐𝒏 bonbon is filled with 𝒅𝒖𝒍𝒄𝒆 𝒅𝒆 𝒍𝒆𝒄𝒉𝒆, please enjoy the taste of 𝒊𝒎𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒈𝒏𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏

request: @alexkanroji asked: Hi sashi! Could I have a Frisson with matcha for Marco x f! Reader please! | tw: impregnation. love making. vag sex. | wc: 993 | masterlist |

Dancing with the soft rocking motions of the Grandline, you come closer to the first commander of the Shirohige pirates. The Moby Dick has been left by everybody but you two. After it docked, and you made sure you were completely alone, It’s time to have fun, loud, noisy, fun…

“Dr. Marco, I think I’m feeling a little hot” you purr. “Running a fever, my sweet patient?” the phoenix man jokes, fixing his glasses as if he was getting ready to asses you.

You finally get to his arms giggling. A kiss on the crook of his neck and then you look at him. “Yes, I’m sick and I need my medicine ~” you whisper, while you unbutton his sky blue shirt.

Marco smirks, and in a violent, swift motion he lifts you up by your thighs and throws you into the bed. He tops you right after, his hand caresses your face with love and you take his glasses out.

“So, you want my medicine then?” he grunts, with your lower lip trapped in between his teeth. You nod and moan, already feeling your breathing accelerating and you core reacting.

He does not wait; Marco attacks your lips with burning passion. He turns on the flames inside you and all around your tiny little cabin. His skilful doctor’s hands undress you, and his tongue never stops wondering the insides of your mouth.

The phoenix man, that’s always a healer, this time is about to break you with his hardness grazing against your sex. Dry humping as he kisses and bites your neck. As you pull from his blond hair, accompanying his lustful bites and nibbles with whines and whimpers.

Your legs surround his waist, your heel pressing his hips more and more against yours. And all you want is for the fabric that separates you two to be finally out of the middle.

“You are so…” he mumbles, during those moments when you both stop to take air. “Desperate? Yes, for you. Get inside me already~” you plead, playing with your index on his lips.

Marco closes his eyes. The poor man had been shot with a big dose of concupiscence coming from his beloved wife and he is sure he can’t stop himself once he open them again.

A deadly smirk garnishes his face, and a little shiver runs through your spine… Those hips will leave you unable to walk later, you are sure of that.

In a second you are free from your pants. And as he begins unbuttoning his, you help him pull his jeans down with your feet. Feet he traps in his hand and kisses the bridges of them. “You want to put them over my shoulders?” he asks, because he knows you very well.

“Ye- yes, go deeper this time” you moan, resting now your heels over his shoulders.

Marco scoffs, he is desperate to go inside you as much as you are. Before he does, he pumps a few times his shaft, drizzling with his pre cum your slit, making you shiver by the runny feeling of that glorious elixir.

He guides himself into you. Marco plays with your entrance up and down, and around but still he doesn’t fully penetrates you. The doctor is having fun, and you can’t stop squirming to get him to go deeper and deeper.

“You want me so bad, right my love?” he asks, going in and out just by your entrance. You wanna punch him sometimes, and your nails carve into the sheets of your bed. Truth is that even if he isn’t fully inside you, you are in heaven already with those little thrusts he gives you.

But he knows you, he wants to impale you… and while he plays dumb, he does making you throw your head back and say “fuck, Marco!”

He laughs, and goes even deeper, putting all his body weight on your legs, pulling them back until they reach your ears. You discovered how flexible you can be, or maybe it’s just the fact that you want him to fuse with you.

His hips move in and out of you, going hard, filling the room with the splashy noises of your juices and his skin hitting against yours. Moaning and pleading for him to “don’t stop” is all you can do, besides enjoying the way your walls stretch receiving his dick.

And, as everything has a peak, pleasure does too. You are about to reach climax, he is too. Marco is well aware of what to do now, but, does he really want to pull out? He doesn’t.

A doctor like him, who has brought so many children to this world, seems to be in need of one of his own… and you, my darling, are the perfect one to be the mother of his kids.

“Will you take my cum?” he asks, in between panting, as your climaxing walls spasms milk his sex. You widen your eyes; he is asking you to finally…

“Let me impregnate you, make you really damn pregnant. I wanna be a dad, I want- ngh- you to be the mother of my child ~” he finishes, feeling the unstoppable eruption of pleasure from within his guts.

You smirk, and when he finally lets go of your legs you cross them around him. “You ain’t going anywhere until I can call you daddy”

Marco takes a big gasp of air. Closes his eyes, opens them back again and kisses your lips, sealing the perfect climax for him, for you…

You feel the warm bathing sensation of his release, seed that fills you up until you feel like exploding, like bursting. He repeatedly mentions how much he loves you, with his lips pressed against yours.

You close your eyes, enjoying his breathing normalizing next to your ear.

“Hopefully it will take more than one attempt...” You joke, caressing his back as you both rest.

“You naughty wife... 💖”

[melodyatlas]

for the only one bed prompt from a while back!

3 with dickjay, maybe an injured dick (his knee? :D) waking up to a jason who went out his way to get him to a safehouse and patched up. dicks totally bewildered/fighting back tears because what the fuck? i picture it a little post UTRH (ignoring bftc and bib and even their outsiders interaction) so this is their first 'meeting' since jasons Come Back

feel free to ignore/discard whichever parts of my idea you want btw no pressure LOL

Ask Game/Prompt List

dickjay!!! yessss!! i think i used most of what you said? this was super fun cause as much as i like jaydick i havent actually written for them before, hopefully i did it justice 😂❤️💙

i was smart enough to put this one under a cut after it got away from me in length lmao

Consciousness does not come quickly to Dick.

He's just so comfortable; a firm bed beneath him, a soft, vaguely familiar smell invading his senses, and a heavy warmth wrapped around him.

The only thing making this situation less than ideal is a sharp pain in his side and the twinge of his still-healing knee. It reminds him he needs to do his morning leg stretches, but surely those could wait so he can enjoy the embrace of- wait... He's on an off period in his relationships right now.

So who's arms are wrapped around him right now?

He forces his brain to actually wake up, scouring his memories for details of the night before.

His knee-brace has been slowing him down a little more than he would like to admit. And he /might/ have overestimated his flexibilty the night before because of it. He attempted a move that definitely would have worked before he was shot- but with the brace on, he can't tuck that leg as tightly as he needed to be able to in the space he was in.

It meant he didn't make it to cover as intended, getting grazed by a couple of bullets for his trouble. He would have been in real hot water had the newest Gotham rogue not chosen that moment to stroll into the fray.

And stroll he did- the Red Hood didn't seem to have a care in the world as he waltzed right into that crowded warehouse. The drug cartel that had been closing in on Dick had seemed just as surprised as he was by the addition to the fray- and his casual attitude.

It worked in Hood's favor, probably all according to his plan; the confusion it created made the perfect hole for him to announce that he was there to send a message to their boss about dealing cut drugs under his watch.

Apparently he had the whole warehouse rigged to blow and was magnanimously offering them the option of retreat before he blew the whole thing sky high.

His reputation preceded him, and most of the goons bolted at the news, the few who stayed behind arguing in favor of capturing Nightwing as their get out of jail free card getting shot in the arms or legs for their trouble.

Dick was a little surprised that Hood hadn't just outright killed them all. But the light maiming and the yelling that Nightwing was Hood's prize also worked to get the stragglers to finally run off.

Objectively, Dick /knew/ the Red Hood was Jason Todd. But seeing Hood walk up to where he was still laid up on the cold ground- hearing him tell those goons that Dick was his /prize/- it was slightly intimidating. Not that he'd ever tell Jason that.

Still, Dick knows better than to let anyone see him sweat, so he gave Hood his trademark grin even as he kept his hand on the deepest graze on his side. He's lucky it wasn't any closer to his body, no real bullet wound to worry about, but the longest one was bleeding a little more than he would've liked.

Red Hood just sighed as he looked down at Dick, "Sometimes you're really more trouble than you're worth. C'mon then, I was serious about rigging this place. We need to get clear."

He helped haul Dick up to his feet, where he immediately swayed and had to be caught in Hood's arm. Damn, as if needing to be saved wasn't embarrassing enough. He had to go and nearly faint in his arms too?

He must've lost more blood than he thought, because he did nearly pass out on Jason's shoulder- the bigger man nearly having to carry him to a nearby car. And isn't that just a slap in the face- that Jason was bigger than Dick now.

It's not even like Dick is a small man- he's not- but Jason still has a couple inches and at least 20 pounds (of what looks like pure muscle) on him.

No wonder his memory of the rest of the night is so fuzzy. Dick really had to have lost more blood than he thought. But he got what he needed from the memory- /Jason/ is the one wrapped around him.

/Jason/ is the one who crawled into bed with him after saving him from getting in over his head. After carrying him to a safehouse to patch him up.

And he did patch him up- Dick can feel the gauze wrapped around his stomach, the telltale pull of what has to be fresh stitches in his side. He swallows hard, trying to hold back his emotions at the revelation.

He hasn't actually seen Jason since he came back from the grave. He /knew/. Of course he did- he was around tangentially while Jason was taunting Bruce as the Red Hood. So it wasn't hard to find out who he was after Bruce knew.

Dick can feel out the fuzzy memory of Jason taking off the helmet last night, but suddenly he needs to see his face /now/.

So despite the ache in his knee and the pain in his side, he twists around in Jason's hold to lay face to face with him. His movement jostles Jason enough that he furrows his brow, even in his sleep, but the younger man seems to relax back into his sleep pretty quickly.

It's... overwhelming to see Jason like this. Grown. Grown so much from when he last saw him. Logically, Dick knows Jason is still only nineteeen- but he looks older than that. Years beyond what he should- he looks closer to Dick in age.

Muscle he didn't have before built up all over. Hair grown out just enough to really let his curls show. The white tuft at his forehead and long scar along his cheek stark reminders of what he went through.

Dick is reaching out before he even realizes, two fingers tracing up along the scar and then back down to where it cuts into his lips. Surprisingly, it doesn't detract from Jason's good looks at all, in fact, Dick thinks it makes him look even more handsome.

So he can be forgiven, he thinks, for being so entraced by the sight that he doesn't realize when Jason's eyes open.

"A guy could get the wrong idea, waking up to a half-naked bird touching his lips like that."

It's only his years of training that keep Dick from flinching at the new sound of Jason's voice. It sounds like him- but at the same time, it doesn't. Once again, those years twisting the image of Jason he had in his head, now at odds with the man before him.

Still, he can play this game, "You're the one who stripped me half-naked and called me a prize."

Jason just hums, nips a little at Dick's fingertips where they still rest on his lips, and then shoots him a smug little grin when Dick /does/ startle at that before joining him in smiling.

It's crazy how /easy/ this is. Laying in bed with a man he used to know, but certainly doesn't anymore. Jason's been through so much since the last time they saw each other- so has Dick, even- but he's still so comfortable with him.

It's hard to say whether or not he /should/ be this comfortable. He knows what Jason's been up to since he got back. But he also saved him. And is letting him flirt with him. Hell- he's flirting /back/.

Dick thinks he can relax into this for a little bit- let them both have something nice for once. So he doesn't let himself think too hard before leaning up to replace his fingers at Jason's lips with his own mouth.

Yeah, he can definitely let them both have this.

[cavalierious-whim]

Socially Awkward, Chapter Two (Wriolette)

Neuvillette made the first move, Wriothesely responds, and now it's Game, Set, Match.

'Socially Awkward'

Part 2 of 11

modern au

old dude cliche rom-com

Be sure to check out some of the amazing doodles that 18Tea81 drew, inspired by this fic!

Read here on AO3. You can also, follow me on Twitter and Blue Sky.

--

Wriothesley wakes up to a full range of direct messages from the ThirstTrap app. 

>> When will you finally show off that dick? (Never).

>> Baby, let me buy you some lingerie. (There’s a CELESTIA wishlist for that).

>> If you’d just give me your address— (Blooooooock).

One message, though, catches his eye. The words are innocent enough. The username is familiar—a frequent subscriber but quiet in the chat. Wriothesley sees their name in every stream but aside from offering up more than decent tips, all they do is lurk. It’s nice. Wriothesley likes that. This DM has the same sort of feel to it, the words swathed in politeness. 

[LeviathanJudicator] >> I see that you like men in suits. Our tastes seem to align. I think that you may like my account in particular. Enjoy.

Wriothesley is still embarrassed that he let that slip. He’d kicked himself later in bed, dragging a hand down his face with a soft curse. There was a line that had to be drawn, carefully drafted rules that he and Clorinde agreed upon. He’ll flaunt himself and read smut aloud, but The Duke is a facade. He is not and never will be the real Wriothesley. The admittance of his preferences… 

Well, Clorinde will kill him. 

Later, though. His thumb hovers over the link that his follower has sent him. “He’s probably a creep,” says Wriothesley. A reasonable assumption. That’s how these sorts of things usually go. “It’s probably an unsolicited nude.”

It’s a proper Kameragram link, though, and that’s what makes him take the chance and click into it. 

Oh. Oh, this is…

Wriothesley covers his mouth, thumbing at his scruff. “Well, I’ll be,” he mutters, swiping through LeviathanJudicator’s Kameragram feed. It’s exactly what he likes, what he fantasizes about. A tall, lean man in the nicest suits that Wriothesley has ever seen. Perfectly cut and tailored. Barely an inch of wrist or neck on display. There’s even color coordination, and silk ties that likely cost an entire month’s salary for Wriothesley. 

This patron has always tipped well but this is—Wriothesley whistles, impressed. 

“I think you may like my account,” he muses. Those words are a gentle tease. Wriothesley is more than interested, he spends nearly an hour lounging in bed, simping over each picture. He commits them to memory, eyes tracing those perfect, sharp angles. The jut of the man’s wrist. The occasional fringe of hair gracing the length of his jaw, just barely seen. Long, deft fingers, perfectly hidden by leather gloves. And then another, this one with his fingers bare, nails clean-cut and perfectly square. 

“Fuck,” curses Wriothesley, trying and failing to will his boner away. It’s too early in the morning for this. Wriothesley isn’t a teenager, he’s nearly forty, and shouldn’t be sporting spontaneous hard-ons. “Sigewinne,” he thinks. “Clorinde. Clorinde’s gun. That one summer that Clorinde shot me in the thigh. It was intentional, no matter what she still says. She doesn’t fucking miss. Her aim is perfect.”

Wriothesley heaves a ragged sigh as nothing seems to work. Smitten. He’s smitten, and it’s going to make the rest of his day an absolute slog. He’s going to be punching at a bag and thinking of slim hips and the slope of those perfect shoulders if he doesn’t tug one out and even the playing field.

This isn’t new. He’s… indulged upon the rare decent dick pic he’s sent (always seen and never replied to; too messy, too much, but he can look, right? Yeah, that’s okay).

He grinds his palm against his tented sleep trousers, groaning softly. Then he pulls at the waistband, tugging them down just enough to free his cock. A quickie. That’s all he needs and then he’ll be right as rain for the rest of the day. He thinks. The logistics don’t matter right now, his aching dick does. 

Wriothesley's fingers are almost too calloused, catching against his skin just enough to make him hiss. “Shit, where’s the—” On the bedside table where it always is. The half-used bottle of lube is a best friend nowadays, and Wriothesley reaches over blindly. One quick squeeze of it onto his cock has him grunting. Should’ve warmed it up, should’ve thought about that, but he didn’t, and all it takes is one slick stroke of his length to leave him boneless in the bed. 

He only needs one hand. His phone rests against his free palm. Wriothesley scrolls through those pictures again. Those broad shoulders. That line of the man’s throat. The tapered, handsomely tailored waist of a crisp, navy-blue suit. Wriothesley doesn’t even like the color navy, but he adores it on this man. 

He’d be weak in the knees if he were standing. His back arches as he fucks into the tight grip of his hand. The wet squelch of the lube fills the room as he pulls over his cock hard and fast. Heat curls, spreading like wildfire in his veins. Wriothesley stares at the pictures, at the mostly-clothed man that will no doubt haunt his dreams. 

Everything is to the imagination. The pale skin, the silky, soft hair that brushes against his shoulders. Those fingers, long and reedy. Thin, finely boned knuckles, with a wrist bone sharp enough to cut a diamond. Wriothesley moans, his head tipping back as he imagines those fingers around his cock instead, stroking him to completion. 

Wriothesley comes embarrassingly quick, soiling his stomach, and the hemline of his sleeping shirt with come. He jerks, shuddering through his release, and still, he stares at those pictures, licking his lips, thinking, imagining, groaning at the thought of seeing just a smidge more. 

What lies underneath that suit? Gods, this is what he loves about these sorts of pictures. 

His orgasm is abrupt but satisfying. He lets loose a sigh, pleasure wracking through him, sloughing away the tension brought on by a mostly clothed man showing off his fine fits. And then a little bit of dread, a little bit of remorse as he groans against his palm. Who does that? 

Wriothesley apparently, and that’s even more embarrassing his snafu on stream last night when he got a little too close and personal. 

He looks at the clock and winces; half-past ten. “Shit,” he hisses, shooting out of bed. There’s enough time for a three-minute shower and to toss on some clean clothes. He doesn’t have a set schedule but he still should’ve been at the gym earlier than this.

Wriothesley wastes another ten minutes in the shower when his mind drifts off, thinking about pocket squares and coordinating colors. It’s hard to ignore the way his cock twitches, half-hard against his thigh. He’s too old for this sort of distraction. 

Clorinde is definitely going to kill him. 

#

Neuvillette is not a man who makes mistakes. 

Last night he made more than several. He winces at the sunlight that filters in through the slit of the window curtains. It falls just perfectly across his face, taunting him, reminding him that there’s work to do. A day off is never a day off; it’s just a day away from active trials. Neuvillette will still find himself in the office, pouring over paperwork, and eating cold takeout that Navia has to force down his throat. 

His head pounds. He feels sick, rolling over in the bed, and pulling the sheets around his head. No, that’s worse. Moving is worse, and his stomach tilts in the opposite direction as the rest of him, making him feel adrift in the sheets.  

The wine. The stream. The string of bad decisions that led to—

Oh. Oh, no. No, no, no.

Neuvillette scrabbles around and finds his phone stashed underneath a spare pillow. He unlocks it and pulls open the Thirstrap App and sees his crime. A DM. He sent his link to The Duke. Gods, that’s embarrassing. May the waters of Fontaine swell and swallow him right up. 

And worst of all there is no response. Not even a polite thank you, just a read receipt that shows The Duke saw the message. 

Neuvillette pinches the bridge of his nose. The pounding ache in his head is not worth this. To be left on read… Neuvillette may not understand all the intricacies of friendships but even he understands that is considered to be a negative thing. Ah. But he isn’t a friend, and this is a parasocial acquaintance at best. Neuvillette is now sober and knows better than whatever his alcohol-addled brain was fantasizing about. 

That too—his face burns beet red as he remembers just how he touched himself to the thought of the Duke during his stream. Usually, he has the decency to at least do it with the stream off. Just his hands and thoughts, not… Well. Not that. 

No more wine. Never again. Only cool, crisp water, and a nice consommé. And maybe his hand. Wait, no.

“Work,” mutters Neuvillette, peeling back the covers. At least he had the decency to shower off before slipping into bed. Everything beyond his embarrassment is hazy. The sheets are a mess, but those can be changed later. He’s decent enough that he’ll be able to get away with just washing his face and teeth. 

It takes longer than he’s used to, still dealing with the sealegs of a terrible hangover. His head pounds enough to actually take medicine, something that he rarely resorts to. It isn’t so much that he toughs it out, just that he rarely is in such a way. Neuvillette is hardy and healthy, and any pains he sports come from sitting at his desk for too long, or those occasional sleepless nights when pouring over particularly difficult cases. 

Today, he chooses to dress down. Just a pair of trousers and a nice cotton shirt. He’s too tired to do himself up properly. He doesn’t even brush his hair, just combs his fingers through the mess of it. The idea of a stiff, chafing collar makes him queasy, so for the day, he’ll suffer through the thought of being without his proper aesthetic. Besides, he’ll be working from home, not the Opera Epiclese, so there isn’t a reason to force himself to suffer. 

He hears the front door slam shut just as he leaves the bedroom and stills.

Wait. There is one reason to worry, and it just walked into his home. He’d forgotten that Navia was planning on helping him prep his cases for the coming week. Neuvillette curses softly under his breath, about to retreat into his room to at least put a sweater on.

He isn’t quick enough. Navia reaches the hallway of his townhome before he can move, and she stills at the sight of him. Her gaze starts at his face and drops to his feet before lifting again. It’s slow and the glance is long enough for Neuvillette to hear her thoughts grinding together, processing. 

“My,” she says, brows raised high to her hairline. “You look… out of sorts, don’t you? Are you sick?”

“No, I’m fine.” Neuvillette is not fine, nor does he sound fine. But he doesn’t sound sick, he just sounds spent and tired. 

Navia knows him better than he knows himself though, and she gives him a shrewd look. “You were up late,” she says then. 

“I had a bit of wine.”

“You—what? Monsieur Neuvillette, you don’t drink.”

“I did last night,” he says ruefully. “And I’m certainly paying for it now.”

Navia clicks her tongue as she sweeps forward. “I think the last time that I saw you this dressed down was when you had the flu a decade ago—and that was because the nurse made you take off the suit.”

“Please do not remind me.”

Her mouth quirks into an affectionate smile. “Alright, old man. Let’s at least get some breakfast into you.” Neuvillette must look positively ill at the thought of it because her brow wrinkles. “Are you hungover?”

Neuvillette doesn’t want to lie so he just doesn’t answer. Navia’s expression shifts into something of a shock. “I see,” she continues. “I—well. Okay. First time for everything. Still, you should drink some water. And I know you’re probably nauseous, but food will help.”

He doubts it but lets Navia lead him down the corridor. “I’ve been hungover before,” he tells her. 

“When was that?”

Decades ago, but she doesn’t need to know the particulars. Besides, the sensation is the same be it now, or when he was in his early twenties. The roiling in his stomach is nothing unexpected. He sits in the chair like a good boy, though, and lets Navia fuss over him.

“Really, Monsieur Neuvillette.” It’s light-hearted and humorous as she digs around in the kitchen cabinets. “What could have possibly driven you to drink so much?” She pauses and looks at him over her shoulder. “An entire bottle of wine?” she guesses.

“Nearly. I do think there’s a little left on the nightstand.”

Navia hums softly. “Hot cereal then. Ah, don’t give me that look. It’ll be good for you and it’ll settle your stomach. You can grouse about it later.”

Neuvillette reminds himself to do just that because his preference would be soup, but Navia knows best. Or so she claims. He’s too tired to up much of a fight with her. Thankfully, she doesn’t needle him further, she just flits about his kitchen, the stove flaring to life with the click of the Electro starter. The scratch of kitchen utensils and the clinking of porcelain bowls set his teeth on edge, but Neuvillette does his best to tune it out. 

“Here,” she says softly, placing a bowl before him. “It’s plain, I promise. No milk, no sugar, no nothing.”

“Small blessings,” comes Neuvillette’s dry response, but he’s polite enough to tilt his head in thanks. 

“So—” Navia falls into the chair opposite him, helping herself to her own bowl of hot cereal. “—what happened?”

“Nothing happened.”

“Neuvillette,” she says, dropping the title. Just like that she isn’t his paralegal, she’s his friend, and she’s understandably worried. Neuvillette not only doesn’t drink, he wouldn’t imbibe to the point of drunkenness. He’s dressed too casually. He slept in—and even if she didn’t comment on it, he knows that she knows. Red flags all around.

“I…” It would be better to tell her, not just because Navia will eventually find out anyhow, but because she can also help him. Maybe. Perhaps. Wait, why is he entertaining the thought of more? No, this is bad. And yet. “That streamer that I like,” he then says. 

Navia’s expression turns coy. “Oh? Mr. Dark, thick, and broody?”

“I—never say that again, please. As you know he frequently streams on Friday nights. Last night he—”

“Did you pay for a private show?”

“No!” Gods, this is a thousand times worse than he expected it to be. And it isn’t as if he’s never explained similar things in excruciating detail. Neuvillette is known to ramble on about mildly inappropriate things but it is because Navia is his oldest, dearest friend, and she doesn’t mind. She manages his personal accounts; when she’d first seen the subscription fee, she just asked if the streamer was cute. 

He clears his throat. “He doesn’t… do that. Er, that sort of private show, at least. It was his usual fair. Reading aloud a rather explicit book.”

“And what, this one did it for you?” Neuvillette says nothing, only drags his spoon through his cereal, and refuses to look her in the face. “Oh,” murmurs Navia, utterly delighted. “Oh, this is rich. Did you enjoy yourself, Monsieur Neuvillette?”

He thinks about throwing himself into the sea to save embarrassment. Instead, he says, “That isn’t what matters, Miss Navia. What does is what I did afterward—”

“Afterward?”

Oh, this is like pulling teeth. But it’s better to just yank it right out, isn’t it? The pain would cut through him, sharp and sudden, but it would dull quickly at the sound of Navia’s laughter. Because she will laugh. She will laugh loud and long, and then she will pity him. 

“I sent him a direct message.” Navia’s eyes go round like saucers and her mouth falls open. “So rarely is The Duke personal, but last night he shared his appreciation of finely suited men, and so I, in all my inebriated grace, sent the link of my Kameragram to him. I didn’t expect for him to answer, of course, but to be left on read is… strangely hurtful.” 

Neuvilette feels less guilty about unloading personal problems on her when he remembers that he pays Navia a salary and not by the hour. 

Navia snorts softly, hiding a grin behind her palm. “Give me your phone. I know you have it on you, so I want to see just what you sent him.”

He should not. He knows better. But Navia has her ways so Neuvillette opens his phone and app, swiping over to the message, and hands it over without much fight. It’s a better option than finding her rifling through his desk drawers later. 

She hums softly, contemplative. “So, not the worst message,” she says. “Certainly better than I expected, but—”

“But.” Neuvillette groans, hiding his face against his palms. “So it is terrible then.”

“I just said it wasn’t but you didn’t let me finish.” Navia laughs softly, amusement curling her words. “It’s just… very formal.”

Neuvillette peels his face away from his hands. “Did you expect me to not be so?”

“Well, no, but that isn’t the point. When flirting—”

“I am not flirting.”

Navia levels him with a look that could sour milk. “You sent him your Kameragram account as a thirst trap.”

“An ill-devised decision brought upon by overindulgence in alcohol—”

“Because you wanted him to notice. Flirting.” Navia’s expression softens. “I know that you are not particularly good at this sort of thing but this isn’t too hard to fix.”

“Fix?” Oh, that doesn’t bode well. “Navia, I have no intention of fixing anything.”

“Why not?” 

The question sounds so simple when she asks it. Why ever not? Neuvillette is not unhandsome, he knows, and he is confident enough to think that his sense of fashion might fit The Duke’s type. But there is one glaring issue—

“I don’t date, as you know. And he is… I am, effectively, a client. Isn’t that considered taboo?”

Navia places his phone back on the table and rests her chin against her knuckles. “I mean, maybe? Are there rules? You haven’t overstepped a boundary—he could have turned his DMs off. And until he says that he isn’t interested…” She waves vaguely.

This is a mess. Neuvillette feels no better now than he did when he woke up, and he decides to drown his morose thoughts in the hot cereal that Navia has kindly prepared for him. It’s cooled enough to not burn his tongue but she still eats it too fast.

She watches, head tilted, eyes narrowly slit, and that mouth of hers pulled up at one side. He hates that look. 

Eventually, she says, “I’m proud of you, you know. You put yourself out there. You never do that and even if this…” Her eyes flicker back to the phone. “Even if I would have been a little more casual about it, you still did it. Good job.”

Neuvillette’s face burns pink at her praise. “Miss Navia—”

“Oh, so it’s Miss, again.”

It takes a lot of effort to resist rolling his eyes at her. “Navia, I’ve been left on read, as you younger folk like to say.”

Navia looks at the clock on the wall. “It’s six-thirty in the morning. Most people are still dreaming this early. I think that this may be a sign to throw yourself back out into the dating pool.”

“I wish that I carried that same optimism,” says Neuvillette dryly. 

“Well, he hasn’t said no, yet. Or blocked you—”

“Blocked me?”

She snickers, going back to her bowl of food. “The point is that he hasn’t turned you down which means there’s still a chance. And if he’s into handsome guys in suits, like you said he is, well… I don’t think there’s any better option out there.”

“Navia, I…” Neuvillette clears his throat. “It would be unkind of me to not express my thanks to you, I suppose.”

“Oh shut up, you old fish. You know you’re handsome. The expensive suits only enhance what’s already there.”

This, thinks Neuvillette, is why they get along so well. Navia has worked for him for over a decade. She sees reason where he doesn’t and isn’t one to hold back her punches, be it good or bad. This time, she’s in his wheelhouse, which is nice. 

“So,” she continues, her expression turning sly. “I guess the burning question is—what next?”

Neuvillette takes it back. Navia will certainly make this worse. And yet, when she reaches for his phone a second time, Neuvillette does nothing to stop her.

#

“It’s rare for you to want to be here in person.”

Clorinde barely looks up from her laptop. “It’s because you’re a moron. Someone has to keep you in check.”

Wriothesley winces at her harsh words. He pointedly ignores her, messing around with his set, making a point to push around the pillows and blankets. She’s quiet long enough for him to look. Clorinde watches him back, her mouth pursed. 

“Okay, so look—”

“The rules, Wriothesley,” she cuts in. “Repeat them for me.” 

Clorinde is calculated and careful in comparison to him. And no, Wriothesley doesn’t trust others—as mid-life crisis his decision to stream was, he isn’t stupid. But Clorinde has always been to anchor his whiplash tendencies. The rules are meant for safety even if Wriothesley has no intent of stepping past them. 

“Rule one,” he recites with a mock salute, “no real names.”

Hence The Duke. Clorinde had teased him about it for weeks but Wriothesley finds it preferable to Daddy. He shudders at the thought. 

“And two?”

He grimaces. “No personal details.” Clorinde raises one mocking eyebrow and waits for an explanation. “Look, I was tired, and it was harmless.”

“Someone sent you their Kameragram account. A follower.”

“So people can send me dick pics and that’s okay, but—”

“Dick pics get you tips, don’t they? It’s not as if you haven’t jacked off to those either, by the way.”

Right. Wriothesley drags a hand down his face, unwilling to be reminded of that. It’s pathetic, but some of his followers have nice dicks, and he has eyes and a lonely cock, and well— 

“Not the point,” he hisses, peeking at her through his fingers.

“You know, rule number two is for you, not them,” drawls Clorinde. 

Right, right. Wriothesley can’t afford to get attached. He knows it, she knows it, and he never crosses any lines aside from whacking one out to a decent dick pic on occasion. An opening—that’s what she called it earlier. He’s given his weirder, crasser followers an opening to his real tastes. 

Wriothesley clears his throat. “He was polite, at least. In a way that others are never. Fully clothed too.”

“And that does it for you?”

“I didn’t—”

“You did,” she says tartly. “I can tell, you know. You’ve had this glow about you all week—”

“Clorinde.”

She’s teasing him, of course, but the sting of it still burns like the embarrassment that pricks the back of his neck. 

“That begs the question though, what is different about this man?”

Clorinde’s question catches him off guard. “What?”

She’s busy setting up her end of the stream for moderation and still doesn’t look away, her fingers flying over the keys of her laptop. “For all my joking about your appreciation for the good dick pics, you never actually like… respond. But this guy has you thinking about him.”

He does not, and that’s what he tells her, but the moment that the words leave his mouth, Wriothesley is already thinking about the crisp edges of those handsome suit lapels, and how his shirt sleeves have a proper fit, just barely peeking out from underneath the jacket cuff.

“That’s the look that I’m talking about, by the way,” says Clorinde, gesturing at his face unhelpfully. 

“I won’t message him back,” he promises. Clorinde shoots him a critical look that shows she doesn’t believe him. Which she shouldn’t. Wriothesley has waffled back and forth on just how polite he should be when he gives his sincere thanks. Casual? Clipped? Friendly? No, no, he shouldn’t encourage the man.

Wriothesley fiddles with a couch pillow for the umpteenth time. “So, another idea,” he says. “I thank him, at least, but I do it on stream.”

“That might be worse. Do you want to encourage others?”

No, but it’d be no different than the multitude of messages that Wriothesley deletes every time. He shrugs. “He puts effort into what he does. And, besides, he was so… polite. He’s a regular but he’s never spoken in the chat, and I think that he may have been nervous?”

Clorinde’s returning expression is flat. “I think that you might be projecting your own insecurities onto—”

“Okay, enough of that. It’s nearly time to go live and I still need to get dressed.”

She’s always been good at reading the room. Her mouth snaps shut but she’s amused, her mouth pulled into a smile as she watches him flounder about. “Is it another jockstrap tonight? I just need to know whether or not to blind myself with the bleach first or—”

“I’m not holding you here at gunpoint.”

“Right, because I’m the one with the guns.”

“Oh, speaking off, hasn’t the date for the Teyvat Games been set? When are the preliminaries?”

Clorinde shoots him a rude gesture because she hates it when he changes the subject abruptly. “Didn’t you need to get changed? At least close the damn bedroom door.”

Wriothesley does not, knowing there isn’t a reason to, nor does she care. Clorinde has about as much interest in his looks as she does anything aside from marksmanship, which is none. 

“To answer your question, by the way, I thought I’d return the favor. Something a little different for the stream tonight. Remember when I bought that suit for Sigewinne’s med school graduation?” 

There is a moment of contemplative thought before Clorinde asks, “Does that even still fit?”

No. Not entirely. But that’s the point. Wriothesley wears a tight V-neck T-shirt and throws that old, dusty suit jacket atop. The charcoal gray is a nice color on him, and whilst most might try to hide them, Wriothesley thinks that it makes the silvers in his dark hair pop, glittering as they catch the ring lights on his set. 

Clorinde’s head pops in around the frame of his bedroom door. She gives him a once-over and frowns. 

Wriothesley frowns too, looking at himself, dragging a hand down his front. “Is it that bad?”

“What? No. I hate it, which means they’ll love it.”

Oh, Clorinde. Wriothesley shoots her a grin. “So, the plan for tonight—I bought the sequel to the book you gave me last time.” She snorts, leaning against the door frame. Clorinde had admitted that she’d meant it as a joke and that she’d laughed so hard at his dramatic reading of dragon egg-preg smut that she nearly vomited. From anyone else that would be an insult, but Clorinde is typically so serious that he would’ve paid money to be a fly on that wall.

So, now that she’s here….

“That’s unfair,” she tells him. “I won’t be able to keep quiet in the background.”

“Then you better practice.” Wriothesley pulls his signature red tie around his neck, knotting it so that it lays loosely against his collarbone. “Because if I have to suffer through this again, you’re coming with me.”

Clorinde grunts. 

“Anyway, I’m not planning on stripping down much tonight. Just a nice, relaxed stream. Maybe the jacket comes off, maybe the shirt—but I’ll keep the trousers on for your sake.”

“How considerate of you,” deadpans Clorinde. Then, she looks at her watch and clicks her tongue. “You’ve got about five minutes. Your chat’s already popping.”

“Right, right.”

Clorinde then gives him a half-lidded smirk. “What’re you going to do if he’s in your chat tonight?”

He will be. LeviathanJudicator is a long-time, loyal follower of his. Even if he’s quiet, he’s a familiar screen name, and he tips well and frequently. Wriothesley looks in the mirror and ruffles his hair, tousling just so. “I already told you—I’ll thank him.”

Clorinde doesn’t need to know that Wriothesley has another plan. She can kill him later.

#

The reading is a resounding success. Wriothesley doesn’t pretend to know anything about Farewell My Beloved Archon, but what he’s gleaned from just these two books is that there is a very large audience for monster fucking, weird biology, and… eggs. 

Wriothesley doesn’t care as long as it brings in the tips, and oh, are the tips rolling in. Clorinde is red-faced where she sits at the kitchen table, wheezing from having to hold back her laughter. Wriothesley had to apologize several times, explaining that his chat mod was there in person tonight, something that he’s going to hold over her head for the foreseeable future. 

Still. It’s led to questions. Usually, he’s annoyed by this, but it’s the perfect opening for Wriothesley's last hurrah for the night. 

He squints at the screen. “Ah. RexIncognito wants to know if my moderator is a girlfriend,” he reads aloud.

Clorinde squawks in the background, a terribly unflattering noise that makes Wriothesley break his sultry character and laugh. “No, no, she’s merely an old friend. And a lesbian. Besides, I told you all what I like in a partner last week, didn’t I? Tall, handsome men in suits.”

He shoots Clorinde a look and sees that she’s watching him from over her laptop with a shrewd expression. 

“Which reminds me, I feel the need to give thanks to a follower. I’m not going to call them out, but someone sent me a very nice Kameragram account—you know who you are. I know that I don’t typically get personal here but I have to admit… It was certainly appreciated. Several times.”

Oh, the look that Clorinde is giving him is foul. But that’s an issue for later. Wriothesley clears his throat and continues. 

“Anyway, remember how we ran a poll a while back about lingerie? It’s an old meme, but the virgin killer sweater—” His chat goes wild at the mere mention of it and Wriothesley chuckles. “Yes, yes, I didn’t forget. It was the second-place option, so I never prioritized it but in light of recent… indulgences I find myself reconsidering. So, here’s the deal—if say… a certain person were to show off what he’s hiding underneath those crisp suits and perfect cufflinks, I’ll return the favor. I’m not asking for a lot. Seriously, just a slip of skin, a tease of a collarbone.”

Wriothesley shifts, his suit jacket parting to show off his toned chest. The shirt had come off during the stream, but the jacket was slipped back on by popular demand. “I’ll take anything, actually. If my wish were granted, then I’ll wear the damn sweater, live.”

The chat shoots off and tips roll in. Followers beg for him to just treat them to the sweater, and Wriothesley will—all of this is mostly a tease. Clorinde curses softly as she loses control of the text scroll and shoots him a dirty look.

“That’s just some food for thought,” chirps Wriothesley then, giving everyone one last pose for the night. “Until the next—au revoir!”

The stream cuts and Wriothesley heaves a sigh, sagging against the couch. “Gods, it’s hot in here,” he mutters. He stands, already shrugging the jacket off, wiping at the sweat beading on his brow with a forearm. “I thought you’d be angrier.”

“You’re a moron,” she calls him for a second time that night. “But I snooped on his account too, and I don’t blame you.”

“Ah, so you see my vision then.”

“And the sweater?”

“I ordered it weeks ago. I’d be treating them to it anyhow, but what’s the harm in a little fun?”

Clorinde’s face does something strange then; it softens, and she looks at him—really looks at him. “You’re serious, aren’t you? You… like like this guy.”

“You saw him. He’s easy on the eyes. His body at least.” He shrugs. 

“What if he’s horrifically ugly?”

“Then he’d find a great match in me, wouldn’t he?” The joke lands perfectly and Clorinde snickers. “Look, it’s just… fun. I can’t remember the last time someone flirted with me, so… lemme flirt back a little.”

“Only a little,” agrees Clorinde, snapping her laptop shut. “The rules—”

“Are for my own good. I know.”

She sighs, stretching her arms above her head until her joints pop. “Well, if that’s all, I’m going to take my leave. I’ve got to cleanse my ears after listening to… that.”

“You picked the damn book.”

“Yes, well, that was a mistake, wasn’t it?” Clorinde stands and gives him a soft, genuine smile. “Get some rest. Stop jerking off to weirdos on the internet.”

“He isn’t a weirdo!” 

At least Wriothesley doesn’t think the man would be, but then the rational side of his brain kicks in and reminds him that the clean-cut guys are always the weird, fucked up, and kinky ones. 

Still. 

He could fantasize about worse.

#

It has been the work week from hell for Neuvillette, and not just because his boss dumped three extra caseloads on his desk.

“How’s sleep treating you?” 

Sleep isn’t treating him, but Navia knows that. She always knows whatever it is, even when Neuvillette is hiding the things that are bothering him. She’s whip-smart. Sharp like a tack. A go-getter and great at reading people, and the only reason that his finances make a modicum of sense because he is gullible and prone to scams and sales. 

Neuvillette both loves and hates this because Navia is the one person who sees right through his aloof facade. 

“I napped at least,” he says.

“Ah yes, I did notice the blanket on the couch.” Navia holds out a decanter of crisp, clear water and Neuvillette takes it with a quiet thank you. “But that isn’t what I’m asking.”

“Miss Navia, we are at work—”

“And it’s bothering you. Still no reply?”

The Duke did not message him back. He did something worse, something that made Neuvillette gape at the screen as he watched the stream the night prior. He rubs his face, grimacing against his palm, which catches Navia’s attention. 

She pauses, head tilted to the side. “Monsieur Neuvillette, that is not the look of a man who is wallowing about in his self-pity.”

“Last night, on his stream, he—”

Oh, he doesn’t like that sharpness of her eyes as her mouth curls into a smirk. “Do go on,” she says, dropping to the chair opposite him.

‘I feel the need to give thanks to a follower.’

Neuvillette can still hear it now, the way The Duke had thanked him personally for sending him his Kameragram account. 

“He may have mentioned that he pursued my account. He appreciated it.”

‘Several times.’

He leaves that part out. It’s bad enough that Navia knows too much about this entire ordeal, to begin with, but the knowledge that The Duke… Well, he didn’t so much as confirm it but Neuvillette wasn’t born yesterday. The implication is clear and they apparently share a mutual interest that has resulted in their hands around their dicks. To the thought of each other. 

Gods, how embarrassing.

Neuvillette clears his throat. “He expressed his wish to see more.”

Navia’s mouth falls open. “I—so he did message you?”

“No, regrettably. But as I said, on the stream—”

“He mentioned it on the stream?” She hisses this, her voice a sharp whisper. 

“Miss Navia,” he gently chastises her. “Though we’re in my office, there are others around, and that door is not as thick as you would presume it to be.”

She winces. “Sorry, I just. Neuvillette.”

“I do think it was for show, to be honest. A tease—he does that, you know. His stream is nothing but teasing the lot of us. But I do think that his appreciation for my account was sincere at least.”

“And so?” she prompts, waiting for more. 

“And so what?”

“What’d he ask for, you idiot?”

Neuvillette purses his lips and reminds himself to not reprimand her for talking to him as such. This isn’t about work. This isn’t his paralegal talking, this is his friend. Navia is one part concerned, one part dying for more information, and all parts way too involved. 

“Not that he wouldn’t already be giving this to his viewership, I assure you. But…” He gives her an amused look, his mouth just barely quirked into a smile. “If you must know, he offered up stripping off more than he usually does in exchange for seeing my collarbones.”

The skin between Navia’s brow creases slightly. “Specifically… that?” It doesn’t take a genius to see that, perhaps, it’s a strange request. Neuvillette is slow on the uptake but he thinks it’s rather innocent. The Duke could have asked for more, implied something particularly indecent. 

“It was the example that he gave, yes. His exact words were, and I quote: ‘I’m not asking for a lot. Seriously, just a slip of skin, a tease of a collarbone.’”

“He sets the bar low, doesn’t he?”

Neuvillette snorts, offended. “I’ll have you know that my production value is of the highest standard. I spend a lot of time planning my ensembles and just how to shoot…” He frowns. “You’re teasing me.”

“The both of you, really. Is this man just as socially awkward as you? Is it because he’s older too? Are you all like this?” It’s not as if Navia is young herself; but Neuvillette supposes that thirty is enough of a difference for there to be a considerable gap in their experiences.

“Manners, Miss Navia. Please.”

“Manners my ass. This guy is smitten—”

“At the sight of my suits.”

“Are you going to give him a little bit of collarbone?” Navia’s question is genuine and rather innocent, but it burns a hole in Neuvillette’s gut all the same. 

“I… shouldn’t,” is his soft and stilted response. 

Navia, though, doesn’t take the bait. She just gives him a wide, wicked grin, and says, “That isn’t a no.”

It is not. And when they take a break later, and Neuvillette enlists her help in taking a picture that captures the perfect angle and jut of his collarbone, the topmost buttons of his shirt collar undone, she has the decency to not tease him too much. 

“The lighting is good,” she says. “I wouldn’t have thought… Well, you clearly have a good eye.”

“Of course, I do,” sniffs Neuvillette. He feels naked like this, even though so little is shown. He enjoys the press of his collar stays against the underside of his jaw. The air is cool against his clavicle, even with the afternoon sunlight filtering in from the window. 

Navia snaps a few pictures from several angles and they pour over them to select the best one. 

“So,” she says, watching Neuvillette crop out his face, leaving just the bottom edge of his jawline in the frame. “Does this mean you’re officially flirting?”

“It means that I, in a moment of weakness, am being coy.”

“Because you’re looking forward to seeing him in whatever he bribed you with.”

No. Yes. Maybe. Navia doesn’t need the full details of it—even Neuvillette didn’t know what a virgin killer sweater was until a quick Vision search. He was enlightened. And now the idea of The Duke swatched in a small patch of knitted material, the swell of his ass barely covered, jutted out—

“I think that I lost you for a second there,” says Navia, cutting into his thoughts.

“It is because I enjoy the attention.” Which is true enough for Navia to question it no further.

“I’m proud of you, again,” she says. “Even if this is a rather unconventional method of flirting.”

“We are not flirting.”

Are they? Neuvillette certainly isn’t an expert. The last time someone bought him a drink at a bar he’d promptly paid them back, thinking it was a mistake. 

Still, he doesn’t like the look on Navia’s face. “Yet,” she says, tapping her chin.

Neuvillette doesn’t warrant that with a response, he just tilts his phone toward her to show off the final edit of the last-minute photo. Not his best work. It lacks his usual professionalism because it was taken with his phone and he’s in his work clothes, not something curated specifically for his Kameragram, but it is serviceable. 

Navia nods. “Handsome. I’m glad you’re taking the bait. You deserve some action.”

“I will not get any action.”

But there’s a hope, a spark in his gut. He likes the heat that lingers there, and the way his cock twitches at the thought of her being right. 

“Not a regular post,” he says to her, pulling open his Kameragram. “A twenty-four-hour story, the type that self-deletes.” It’ll only be seen if The Duke is actively stalking his page. Neuvillette ignores the flutter in his stomach and the hope that bleeds into his veins. 

Before he loses his nerve, he queues up the post and hits send. The picture posts, waiting, lurking on his account. His collarbone is on display, pale against his shirt collar. A strip of his sternum peeks out from where the top three buttons are undone, framed by the crisp, pressed lapels of his suit jacket. 

The scandalous display comes with two taunting words as its caption: Your turn.

--

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[ravenrambles6229]

Titanium Ninja actually kind of fucks, though

So I rewatched the last episode of season 3. A pretty mid season, right? Well that final episode fucks in all the ways that made my brain vibrate as a 12 year old. So let’s fucking go I need everyone to appreciate this episode.

First up, ninjas trapped in space. Alright. There’s already no solution to this that isn’t bullshit, so just make it cool. Well, I like that they had to use their abilities and knowledge to make the ship instead of tornado of creation-ing it. Really shows how much they’re capable of when they work together!

“How we holding up?” “Bubblegum and a wish!” As they fucking send it. What a legendary line. It burned itself into my brain for years to come and is a part of my standard lexicon.

“Hasn’t Ninjago suffered enough already?” She asks, on season 3 out of what is now 17.

Overlord’s face is kinda silly but the mech honestly kinda slaps.

“My heart has reached critical mass, it appears my unlimited energy is in fact limited!” “Critical mass? You mean it’s gonna blow up?” “Don’t worry about me!” AHJGHSJKG See kids, this is what we call foreshadowing.

Okay but seriously, now that they’re in the atmosphere, they use their elemental powers to shield themselves as they come in from from orbit like goddamn meteors. Is it bullshit? Yes. Do I care? Absolutely the fuck not.

Skales saying they can’t help the people of Ninjago then doing it anyway? Love him for that. Because he presumably sees the ninjas and is like “ugh these fuckers again. Well if they did it once-”

The city recognizing the ninja as they plummet towards the earth as multicolored meteors? There had better be folk songs about this. I’m surprised there isn’t a church. Saviors from the stars here to kill Satan.

Man, people still getting a haircut as the Overlord attacks. Frickin iconic. No wonder people handled season 9 so well.

Pixal on her lil bike.

Also the ninja being caught by their vehicles. Does it make sense? Not really. But the animation for it is cool so once again, I am fully on board.

“A few parachutes would have been nice!” “Friends and family make a good substitute!” Fuck, I love Kai so much.

City fortress. Cloaked in blacks and reds in a dusky sky. What a sick image.

The fact that they were prepared to throw hands with the Overlord even before Borg came to them with a solution. These lil heroes I love them so much.

Lloyd biking through a hole in a window while Cole just WHAM. I love them both so much.

“Go back, and our probability of making it to the temple exponentially diminishes!” “This isn’t about numbers, Zane! It’s about family!” AAAGH the fact that that line came from Kai! Also, foreshadowing!

Cole whooping even as he’s running from certain doom, what an icon.

Lol the ancient seal of the temple being helped by a convenient barrier.

“Let me get this straight, you want us to get close to a guy with armor that, with one touch, will make us toast, and you want us to give him a pill?” “Precisely!” Oh Borg, never change. Unironically my favorite side character, I love this genius idiot so much. He’s just like “well if anyone can do it, it’s you lunatics” and it still feels like pot calling kettle black.

Zane offering his armor to Pixal!!! I love him! Even though he’s so big on probability, he’s so willing to give up his own safety for others!

“I shall see you again.” AAGH

Magic armor toysets!!

The ninja ninja-ing over rooftops will never not make my brain whir.

Okay the golden spiderweb thing goes kinda hard as a villain aesthetic, though. Great way to make the normally heroic golden colors look all evil!

That shot of the ninja, these tiny lil dudes, against this giant evil robot kicks so much ass though.

“Then attack the people.” Holy SHIT Pythor! What a dick move! And the fact that its his former second-in-command that comes to offer the people refuge is so good!

“That was ALL YOU’VE GOT!?” It sure was, but these ninjas are the masters of asspulls so watch yourself.

Okay now we’re getting to the scene. The scene. One of the best scenes in the show, and I am prepared to die on this hill. Actually, I’m prepared to kill on this hill. Because this scene is just fantastic, and has stuck with me vividly for years, even after I fell off the show back around season seven. If you had come up to 16-year-old Raven and told her to quote this scene, she probably could have done so.

“Support me friends, for one last time.” Never does Zane ever think of this as anything less than a group effort. Even here, he’s asking for their support! And they do what little they can!

Then this GOAT just fuckin grabs the armor and demands “Let! My! Friends! Go!” His voice cracking, as the music swells! The way he’s writhing makes him look like he’s in genuine agony but pushing through it anyway!

“Go where, doomed ninja?”

Then they show his fucking heartbeat! It’s robotic, but also very much so a human pulse! Because Zane is as alive as anyone! Then his faceplate falls off!

And you can see the Overlord’s expression change here as he starts running calculations, getting worried!

“The golden weapons are too powerful for you to behold! Your survival chance is ZERO!” “This isn’t about numbers. It’s about family!” What can I even say about this exchange? First of all, the Overlord is appealing to Zane’s survival, rather than his chance of SUCCESS. In all likelihood, he KNOWS that Zane is a threat right now, because that robot is channeling the power of his own armor. But Zane is not swayed by his own chance of survival.

Killing the moment a bit, looks like Zane is programmed in some wacky ass C++. Wonder if Dr. Julien could help me with my Arduino homework. Never was good with stepper motors. Anyway back to drama.

Then the ninja desperately wondering why Zane isn’t letting go, but Wu realizes. “He’s protecting us!”

“I! Am! A Nindroid! And Ninja! Never quit! Go ninja, Go!” There’s so much here. It’s like when he found his true potential on an infinitely larger scale. The Overlord will not hurt his friends, because he knows who he is: A nindroid that never quits, built to protect those who cannot protect themselves.

Also, “Go ninja, go!” Amazing how the addition of one extra “go” completely changes the mood. It sounds desperate, like he’s telling himself to go, to take the plunge, to give everything up, and he DOES that.

Then he just. Fuckin. Goes. What I imagine is happening here is that he is directly powering himself with the golden armor, channeling the Overlord’s golden power THROUGH his heart to boost his own elemental power. Completely frying himself in the process, but able to literally produce the power to kill Satan. 

“No Zane! No!” It being Jay, the one often considered the meek one, to be the first to run after Zane. As Wu has to force them all away, because he can’t lose all his ninja.

Then. The music change. The MUSIC CHANGE. This song. Let me tell you something. I just recently got back into Ninjago. And I was getting caught up on what I missed. Well, I was listening to a music compilation, and suddenly, this song started playing. I Ratatouilled so hard, y’all. I had a flashback to Zane having flashbacks, because this music is absolutely stunning.

His heartbeat plays over the music. The sounds of the fight fade away. As he recounts his time with his brothers. His time meeting his father again, even if it was for only a few short months.

“There’s something special about you Zane.” Cut to Pixal. Then cut to him smiling.

“I know who I am!”

“You were built to protect those who cannot protect themselves.” That’s it. That is the microcosm of Zane’s character. He protects people. He protects his family. And Zane can die happily if it means he has fulfilled that directive.

As he flatlines. Holy hell. I cannot stress enough the impact this had on me as a child.

One final (for now) NOOOOO from the Overlord, then it’s all quiet. The tower light goes out. The manhole freezes over. The robots break. It’s eerily soft compared to what was just happening. Like a single, soft exhale of breath.

Kai looks at a damaged “New Ninjago City” sign. This is symbolism.

And Cole finds a piece of Zane’s body! Is this the only surviving piece? It must be, and that’s devastating! Granted, a kids show probably can’t show what is essentially a corpse, but they don’t even have anything to bury!

Him comforting Nya as she starts to sob. Jay just looking away softly. And Borg. “I used to think technology would be the answer to all of our problems.”

Then it cuts to the memorial.

“Then I saw technology invent new problems. Devastating problems. And then, a Nindroid named Zane saved us all. He was the perfect balance between us and technology.” And nothing encapsulates that better than the heartbeat from a few seconds ago. The heartbeat of a human contained in a machine.

“Technology can improve our lives, but so can people.” The fact that they don’t fully demonize technology, which would be hypocritical seeing as Zane is technology. Instead, it’s all about balance!

“Our city will find its way again, but this time, with Zane as our compass.” Couple things here. First off. That this takes place in a park rather than an urban sprawl. Second, that the photo of Zane is of his season 1 outfit is nice! And that they’re going to look to Zane as an example of what technology should be.

And Zane gets a statue! I love this a lot. I love that it shows up in later seasons. Later on, Zane says he doesn’t need a statue. But it’s not even just about Zane, it’s for the people to remember Zane and his sacrifice by. To remember the mistakes that he fixed so that they don’t repeat them. The Titanium Ninja, a strong metal to act as a foundation for their future. It’s not complex symbolism, but it’s still extremely effective! No wonder I lost my mind at age 12.

Then his falcon sits on his shoulder, with the leitmotif playing! Agh! Just stab me in the heart already, show!

“So, what happens after this?” “I don’t know.” “And I don’t care. Today’s about Zane.” I have a lot of thoughts about this. First up, Jay completely not acknowledging the love triangle right now. He doesn’t care about that, because today IS about Zane. It’s so humanizing. And next up, we know what happens after this. In their grief, the ninja fracture. It’s tragic, but they’re all so devastated by their grief that they don’t know how to carry on together. This is a recurring thing in the show. When Nya becomes the sea, the team splits up. When Lloyd thought his friends died in Sons of Garmadon, he nearly gave up everything. For better or worse, these ninja need each other, they are a very tight-knit family. I wonder if the new series can touch on how they deal with being separated from each other on longer terms. Either way, this family loves each other so much, and I love that,

Kai being the one to give a eulogy. Literally I could type out that entire speech and point to line after line just being like Look! Look at this line! It’s amazingly eloquent, especially coming from Kai. Out of all the ninja, he’s always been the most family-oriented. He’s powered by brotherhood, and Zane continues to power him. We see this in season 4, when he visits Zane’s statue, that he still thinks about Zane every single day, still looking to him for guidance. He has so much love and respect for his family, but also can’t cope with yet another loss in his life.

Wu blinking rapidly as he ducks his head!! Dude is holding back tears big time.

.Dareth sobbing! He loves those funky ninjas too!

“Ninja never quit, and ninja will never be forgotten! Wherever you are Zane, you’ll always be one of us.” As it STARTS TO SNOW! AGH! This is so good!

All of Zane’s flashbacks before it’s revealed that he lived on in the Digiverse! At least before Ronin stole him, lol. Well either way, Pixal moving from grief to hope as she realizes he’s alive! Holy shit! I’d like to draw attention to her speech from crystallized. “Long ago, in a different battle, you gave up half your power source to save my life. Ever since that moment, I felt things I’ve never felt before. I felt love. For you.” Pairing these two moments together just... It hits so hard.

Then the fucking MUSIC. The FUCKING MUSIC! It is triumphant and glorious and a CELEBRATION.

“Are we compatible now?” Holy hell, what an ending.

No wonder this did irreparable damage to my brain chemistry. No wonder I was never normal again. This absolutely DESTROYED me as a kid, and I think it still holds up as one of the most emotionally impactful series of scenes in the show. The beginning is really awesome, the fights are fun, the characterization is stellar, and the death scene is damn near flawless. Is the episode nonsensical and a bit meandering at times? Well, yes, it is. The entire season is all over the place. But this episode still works SO well. I’d say it’s probably top five, easy.

It was something I never considered possible, as a kid. This is coming off season 2, which was pretty Lloyd-centric. I never thought we’d get such an amazing tribute to my, at the time, favorite character. I never thought he’d get such a moment in the spotlight to be as amazing as he was. Granted, he’s since had PLENTY of deaths to call his own, but this one remains the most impactful to me. This was the first death to REALLY be a death and to REALLY hit home. The only deaths that I’d say even come close are Nya’s death in Skybound (since she didn’t really die in Seabound) and Morro’s death for how brutal it is. Nya becoming the sea was also really good, though, with a beautiful funeral. But this one just...

The Titanium Ninja was a revolution for me as a kid. I had adored this show since the pilot. I had kept up religiously since the pilot. But this was the moment that the show went to a whole different level. And honestly, I think it holds up. Ninjago has a list of issues a mile long. But I just want to celebrate for a moment this episode, and everything it does so, so well.

Anyway, that’s my rant about an episode that I really love. I may do this again with episodes like Son of Lily. Because I love this stupid little show so much, guys. I grew up with it, and its always been a big part of my life. Episode 7, Tick Tock, was like, the biggest plot twist of the universe to me as a kid. It was what made Zane my favorite character, and got me so invested in him in the first place. To see Ninjago use that to make a genuinely fantastic character arc, then to use that as the foundation for the fourth season, was absolutely brilliant, and my life is genuinely better for having gotten to enjoy such a show as a kid and now as an adult. This show isn’t some life-changing revolution, but it makes me so happy, and I hope this rant helps illuminate a little bit of why.

[dis-harmony]

[GLM]: Zel’s ballad - GLM MV - Credits to Starbomb

Original song: Luigi’s ballad - Starbomb

CW: Bad edits, long post, strong language, and naughty stuff there

(No hate pls, Enjoy this hilarious but crappy video lmao XD )

Lyrics (made by me)

Miss Lucy Won't you listen to my speech I don't have any stars of invincibility But you're the brightest star in the sky tonight for me I'm your Zel the elf…

What up, bitch, I got a one-up, bitch What's inside my special bag; it's my dick It's-a-me, Stunk, I'm more of a reviewer than a traveler I'll take you by the store and give you the big toy I save you from dragons and evil ghosts that are spooky Must I be a key to get inside your keyhole I will mount you like Eldri and show you things you've never seen My review’s now mega, if you know what I mean SO SHUT UP!

Stunk, you always do this shit I like a girl and then you ruin it By yelling stuff about your dick Until they go away

Hey Zel, it's okay That Stunk's a bit risque Just tell me what you need to say Please don't be afraid

Oh, Lucy, it means so much for me to hear you say that The only thing I've ever wanted to tell you is that- goddamn it

I'm here to pleasure that ass I'd like to go first, Lucy, but I always come last And you say we'll get together but I'm jacking off alone Meidri the bird maid isn’t the woman I like I am tired of you being snuggled around by such a fucking t*tties I go through shit and then you're in another fucking strip club You gotta think about it, well I don't believe the hype You'll have a lot of time to think when you are smoking on my cigarette!

O-M-G, I can't decide On which of you should be the guy To take me on the succu-joint club That'll redefine my life

I'm ready to give love a shot It's not about how many points you've got I just know I like you a lot

Yo, sluts, check out my girls! (ugh)

Let me take you on a demon hole

I'll bust all your balloons when I smack your backside

We'll have such fun, I'll bring my friends along

I'll kick that beast right in his Giga-Chad Come on, miss, it's time to make your choice I'm the only reviewer that can your boobies rejoice Short, perverted-ass elf ain't got shit on me It's time to live out our story, of the female reviewer and the pea-nis

So, who's it gonna be, Lucy?

I choose Crim

Crim?!

Well his whole body's shaped like a girl

Oh yeah, mmmhm, yeah, definitely, angels look like girls