#for a minute i was a little intimidated. when i realized how much money is going into this thing.

[orcelito]

I've realized that this afghan I'm making is going to be Big. Material costs alone will be A Lot, more than I've ever spent on a blanket before. Factor in the fact that this is a handmade, crochet blanket, and like...

If I were to purchase this online, it would be Hundreds of dollars. *Easily*. The kind of thing I'd never even consider buying, bc it'd be way beyond what I'd wanna spend on a blanket.

But it'll be mine. I just gotta make it.

It's incredibly ambitious for such a new crocheter. It's only my 2nd main project, & the very first thing I'm making from a design, And Yet I'm making something that would cost hundreds. Not only that, but with bulky black yarn (everyone always says how difficult dark yarn is to work with).

Ambitious. Hubris, even.

And Yet!

It's going very well, so far. I've got 4 of 40 rows done, not even to mention the edging rows (of which there are 3). It was challenging starting out, but I've since gotten the hang of it, and it's so EASY... The darkness of the yarn doesn't matter at all bc the holes are so clear! I'm crocheting into V stitches!!! It really won't take me That long, in the grand scheme of things.

And I'm just kinda laughing at myself. Bc it's just like me to do something like this. Considering my first fanfiction I posted on ao3 has ended up being 500k words, most of those written in the first year of writing...

Yeah. Of course I'd start a lofty endeavor with limited experience and only Guts and Gusto to get me through it.

And just like with discacc, I'm going to make this good >:]

[queenpiranhadon]

So, it's basically canon that Pro Heroes come to assist heroes in training at UA, right?

Just imagine the horror the new generation of heroes would face when they realize that their opponent for training that day is none other than the Number Two Pro Hero, Dynamight.

It's a hero team vs villain simulation - a joint practice between both hero course classes - Katsuki basically has free range to destroy the mock city UA had built and the students had to prevent him from doing so, which was really just a waste of money because of the Pro Hero's already destructive tendencies.

He already had to regulate himself for Pro Hero work, so this was really just waving the reg flag in front of the bull.

Needless to say, they all got their asses kicked, all 40 of them. Whether it was due to falling debris or evading explosions, all of them were forced to wave their white flags eventually.

The students weren't so much in shock, they were in awe, of how a Pro Hero could be so powerful and intimidating, and well...badass.

Their main takeaway? Katsuki Bakugou was an impenetrable force to be reckoned with.

Or... at least for a few minutes.

You can imagine the shock on their faces when the grim and serious expression on Dynamight's face melts instantly when he hears a voice speak up behind him.

"Katsuki, if you keep frowning all the time, you're going to get wrinkles."

He turns around, a rare smile stretching across his face as he stares at you, his wife, like you're the only person in the world at that moment, like you're the only one that matters.

"Tch. I don't get wrinkle lines, woman. Yer just seein' things."Despite his slight harsh words, they're softer, somehow, and the happy twinkle in his eyes is unmistakable.

The students gape at each other. The Dynamight, Katsuki Bakugou , in love? The same pro hero that was wreaking havoc and creating carnage in his wake was the same one now staring at his wife with a dopey grin and peppering kisses across your face.

"Katsuki!" You whine, but it looses its credibility as you start to laugh at his antics. "What's gotten into you, huh?" you ask, a little softer, so that only he could hear.

He looks at you, a soft look in his eyes as he kisses you gently and lovingly pulling away to admire your pretty face.

"M'just feeling sentimental I guess... We were probably their age when we started dating huh?" He says, referring to the students.

You snort, recalling the time when Katsuki first asked you out. "Aww...is my baby feeling sentimental? You were a dork back then."

Katsuki looks offended and his grumbles, nipping your jawline in annoyance."Oi. I was not a dork back then. If anything, Izuku was the dork."

You smile teasingly, kissing his nose, effectively shutting your explosive husband up.

"Is that so? Because I recall you had your All Might posters set up in chronological order of his costume eras."

Katsuki's ears turn red and his large hand wraps around the back of your hand, burying your face in his chest.

"Shaddup woman. Yer the one who fell for this dork in the first place."

You laugh, your voice muffled by his chest, but he can still hear you just fine. Looking up at him you smile.

"You may be a dork, but you're my dork."

The students watch is abosolute shock, mouth gaping open as they wonder how the hell you were able to render Katsuki Bakugou to the sappy man they saw in front of them.

A/N: He's so silly I love him 🥰

[adoreeenina]

For You, I’ll Risk It All

Part one: High School Crush

-Series Masterlist-

Relationship: DBF! Hank Voight x Plus Size! Olinsky! Reader

WC: 7.3k

Series Summary: He is corrupted and vicious, nothing but a dirty cop. At least that's what you've been told by your mother. You hated him and you weren't afraid to show it at the slightest, but that all changed when he protected you from going to jail when you were 18.

Coming back from New York after five years, you decided to live for yourself for once.

You didn't expect it would start by falling for Hank Voight.

You know your dad's best friend.

Being one of the well known detective’s daughter has its perks, the main one is protection from anyone and anything, the second anyone hears your last name, they quickly back off, knowing what to come of them if they even lay a finger on you; but it also has its downfalls. One of them involving dating.

Anyone who you brought home were intimidated by him almost immediately, you’re pretty sure they know about your fathers being a dirty cop, or atleast the whispers.

Yes. You knew about it, you always known since you were thirteen. You remember the late night arguments between your parents, you would be sitting down on top of the stairs and listen. They weren’t exactly being quiet, atleast your mother wasn’t. Your father trying to calm her down or atleast keep it quiet before you or your sister wake up. Since then, you try to keep your sister Lexi in the dark as much as you can, she doesn’t need to know how many people your father killed.

And that’s where Hank comes in. You haven’t met him yet or seen him. Your mother always mentions him in almost every argument she has with your father. Blaming him for getting your father involved in his dirty work and maybe one day getting himself killed because of it. And that thought scared you.

You were sixteen when you met Hank for the first time. It was the middle of your summer break. Your sister wanted to go to summer camp and your mom volunteered to be one of the chaperones, and the offered you to be home alone most of the time when your father works.

On the rare days when your father gets those days off, he spends them with you. You were having a movie night. Your father let you choose, you decided on a horror movie, Conjuring. You were in the kitchen making popcorn, one with kettle corn powder and the other with white cheddar.

You were making your way to the living room when the door bell rings. Startling you, you pause mid step, you look up the stairs where your father is doing god knows what.

Then you remembered your dad ordered pizza from the closest pizzeria 15 minutes ago. Your stomach grumbled when you thought of food, and you couldn't wait to dig in.

Walking the rest of your way to the living room, you place the bowls of popcorn down on the coffee table. Grabbing money out of your dad’s wallet, you quickly walk over to the front door.

Opening the door, ready to hand the delivery person the money, but pause when you see an unfamiliar man you’ve never seen before.

The man before you stood about 5’10, cropped black brown hair that was greying from the temples upwards and brown eyes that considered you carefully. He had the jaw line of a Greek God.

He looks down at you with a raised brow in confusion. Why the hell is he looking at you like that? If anyone should be staring like that should be you.

He scans you and you only just now realize what you are wearing. Or lack of what you are wearing. In your blue Cookie Monster pajamas shorts and an oversized black shirt that hangs on your left shoulder.

Feeling a little selfconscious by the way he’s looking at you, you subconsciously pull down your pajamas shorts down.

Pushing your feelings aside, you cross your arms across your chest and glare at the man trying to be intimidating but it only amuses him.

“Can I help you?” You ask not caring how rude you might’ve sound.

You could’ve sworn you saw the corner of his mouth twitch as though trying to stifle a smirk, after silently considering you for a few more painful seconds, he decided to speak.

“Hank Voight. I’m looking for Alvin.” your brows raised up slightly at the name.

“Sorry. you must got the wrong house. I don’t know any Alvin.”

He hums in the back of his throat, the only acknowledgement he gave to your answer.

If he is who he says he is, you don’t want him here at all. You only know what your mother said about him. He’s nothing but a dirty cop. Your mother would be infuriated if she were here.

“You sure?” He squints at you, obviously giving you a chance to be honest with him.

You give him a sarcastic smile, “I’m sure.” taking a step back, you grab onto the door to close it, “Sorry you didn’t find what you were looking for” you fake being sympathetic. “Bye bye.” you wave as you close the door with a smile.

“Y/n!” You hear your dad’s fast footsteps rushing behind you to stop the door from closing, grabbing the door to allow it to fully open.

“What?” You faux innocence. Your dad looks down at you with a stern look obviously not buying it.

Turning to face Hank with apologetic grin, “Sorry. My daughter can be a little asshole.”

“Dad!” You gasp with a glare his way.

Hearing Hank chuckle under his breath made you snap your head at his direction and glare.

Spurred by annoyance, you contemplate just slamming the door to his face, the scolding you might get be damned.

“Why the hell is he doing here?” Your face scrunch up as you wave your arm at Hank’s direction.

“Alright, Y/n that’s enough.” your dad grabs you by your bicep and tugs you away from the door.

“You know mom won’t like it if she finds out he’s here.” you whisper. Your dad sighs, glancing at Hank before dragging you to the kitchen.

“That’s why we won’t tell mom.”

“What?”

“Look sweetheart-“

“Are you leaving?” You cut him off. His face softened hearing the distressed pain in your question.

“Y/n-“

“You promised you would spend the day with me. I miss spending time with you, I never get to see you. All you focus on is your stupid job…. Is this why mom made you move to the garage?”

Alvin was lost for words. He should’ve known better he’s oldest daughter would’ve caught on with all the fight and late discussion he had with Meredith. It hurt him the way Meredith looks at him but it hurts even seeing the broken look in your eyes.

“Y/n.” he reaches his out to you, making you take a step back. Feeling betrayed and hurt.

“Actually, You know what dad? You can do whatever you need to do. Clearly I’m not your first priority.” pulling your arm out of his grip, you move past him, and grab your phone from the table.

“Y/n!” Alvin calls behind you, but you ignore his calls, not giving a glance towards the door, knowing Hank is still there waiting. You rush up the stairs to your room, slamming the door behind you.

You might’ve been dramatic, overthinking, or overreacting, but since that day, your relationship with your dad hasn’t been the same. You’ve always been daddy’s girl, so it hit you pretty hard not having that kind of relationship with him anymore. But you were tired of being put a side and not being a priority, you miss spending those days where it’s just the two of you, it could be him taking you shopping,or taking you to the ice cream parlor, or just taking to the park.

Now, it’s like you don’t even have a father, at least one that’s present in your life. Not only is your relationship with your dad went downhill, your mom isn’t any better.

Your mother can be a bit overbearing at times. At least with you. Mostly about your weight. She always been pretty brazen about her opinion on your body. Telling you to lose weight by going to the gym, go on a diet, even going as far to suggest some supplements she seen on TikTok that could help you(which you know are BS).

You’ve always been a big girl, even when you were a little girl. Though you went through puberty pretty early in your life, your curves came in and shaped your body beautifully.

You love your body, you might get a little self conscious about it from time to time but what girl doesn’t? You learned pretty early on you might not be everyone type but you might be someone’s type and that was enough to give you confidence about your plump figure.

Now how your luck has it, you actually know Hank’s son Justin and adopted daughter Erin Lindsay though you didn’t know it at the time. You went to school with them, Erin is a little older than you but Justin is the same age as you.

Now back to your father’s best friend. After your first meeting, you started to hold a little grudge against him.

But it seems like luck isn’t on your side when you keep crossing paths with him once or twice. More since you became close friends with Justin and Erin. Though you you try your best to never interacted with him. Yeah, you might’ve been a little brat about that.

Once Erin graduated, she went straight to the Police Academy, wanting to follow Hank’s footsteps. That left you spending most of your time with Justin. Who would’ve thought you spending so much time together would’ve led you to lose your virginity to Justin Voight.

But sadly it wasn’t mind blowing like you had thought. Your girl friends always talked about how their first time was magical, even went into to much details. Now that you think about it, maybe it was all bullshit to make themselves look better in front of your friend group.

Though you can’t put the full blame on Justin, he has a decent size penis and tried to make you feel good, even tried to put your pleasure over his own. It wasn’t bad but it wasn’t good either. After that, you two decided to just stay friends and act like it never happened, which you were glad it didn’t mess up your friendship.

There’s also one big thing you learned about yourself pretty early on… you liked men. Older men. Old enough to be your father.

You always knew you liked older men but being under aged is what stopped you most of the time. You were flirted with by older men more than boys your age.

And you liked it. You liked it a lot.

You liked the attention they’ve given you, they were shameless and wasn’t afraid to get what they want. They didn’t care about how much you weigh or what size of clothes you are.

You didn’t know what to was about men that really turns you on. It could be the deep voice. Salt and pepper hair. The way men could get protective of you. Or maybe it could be they are experienced.

You need a man who can teach you a thing or two.

Now, you did an amazing job of avoiding Hank but that couldn’t be avoided when you were eighteen.

Justin💙: Party 2night?

You: Fuck Yes!!! You’re picking me up, right???

Justin💙: What about your parents?

You: Told them I’m going over to your place. Besides they won’t even notice. Mom is out with Lexi and Dad is most likely drinking and watching TV

Justin💙: You sure?

You: It’s the only way I’m going

You: What should I wear?

Justin💙: Something Sexy🥴🤤

You: I’m serious Justin😂

Justin💙: What are my options then?

You:

Justin💙: Fuck🫠😩

Justin💙: The red one. Definitely the red one

Justin💙: And wear those heels that makes your legs look so sexy🥴

You:😘

With a smile, you toss your phone to your bed and make your way to your bathroom to take a quick shower.

Today is supposed to be the best day. You’ll graduate the end the week. Which means you’re done with the people you could care less from High School completely.

Tonight you’re going to party. One of your classmates is having at party at his place while his parents are away for their anniversary.

Getting out the bathroom in only a robe and a towel over your head. You sit down in front of your vanity and do your makeup as natural as you can, you’ll be sweating and drinking, you need your makeup to last all night and not look cakey.

You look at the time and quickly put on a pair of biker shorts and a zip up hoodie. Grabbing your backpack, you place your dress, heels, and purse inside, along with your perfume and extra makeup to finish yourself up.

Justin will be coming by to pick you up in his car. Everything was set and making it home from school the excitement made you zone out.

Your phone flashes signaling you Justin has texted you.

Justin💙: I’m outside

Throwing your bag over your shoulder, you race down the stairs.

“Where are you going?” Your dad stops you before you could reach the door. He is sitting on the couch with his feet prompt up on the coffee table with a beer in hand, watching TV.

“Over to Justin’s. I told you already.”

“He’s picking you up?”

“Yes.”

“Just the two of you? Alone?”

“Dad.” you groan, “I’m eighteen, you don’t have to worry about me anymore.”

“That may be true.” you watch as he gets up from the couch with a grunt and stands in front of you, “but you’ll always be my baby girl. No matter what.” He smiles sweetly at you.

You give him a sincere smile. Even though your relationship has been somewhat strained, moments like these is what you cherish the most.

“I love you. C’mere. ” he pull you in for a bear hug.

“I love you too, dad.” you smile into his chest. Alvin presses a kiss on your head then leans his head back to look at you.

“What?” You question. He tilts his head with furrowed brows.

“Are you wearing makeup?”

“Dad!” You whine as you cover your face to hide how embarrassed you are.

Your phone rings once more, another message from Justin telling you to hurry your ass up.

“I gotta go. Justin is waiting for me.”

“He’s outside?”

“Mhmm.” you hum, looking down at your phone messaging Justin back. Your dad nudges you to the door.

“Bye dad.” you peck his cheek.

“Bye baby.”

“Hey, Justin!” Your dad waves once he opens the door allowing you to leave.

“Hey, Mr. Olinsky!” Justin waves back through the open window of the car.

“Better take care of her!”

“Oh I will. Don’t you worry!” Justin winks at you.

“Oh my god.” you roll your eyes at Justin, waving bye at your dad, you get in the back of Justin car.

“Why you sitting in the back?” Justin looks at you through the rear view mirror.

“Hey! Eyes on the road, pretty boy.” you reach from the back seat and hit the back of Justin’s head “I’m changing.”

“Why don’t you wear the dress under your clothes like any normal girl”

“Cause I’m not normal, you should know that by now.”

You unzip the thin jacket you have on and pull it down your shoulders. You’re wearing an adhesive bra, to hold up your heavy breast while wearing the dress that reveals your shoulders.

“Damn.”

“Fucker!” you hiss. Zipping open your backpack, you grab your dress, putting the sleeves of your dress on first, “I said no peaking.”

Justin lets out a low chuckle, keeping his eyes on the road once more.

Placing the dress over your head, you tug it down to your waist. You pull down your shorts and throw them in your backpack, then tug down the rest of your dress down to your mid thigh. Lastly the best for last, you strap on your heels.

“What did you tell your dad, when you left?” You ask to break the silence.

“Nothing. He’s working late. He doesn’t know I’m gone.”

“My, my, what a naughty boy you are, Justin. I might have to punish you.” you lean forward against the center console to look at the side profile of Justin.

“Shut up.” he laughs.

“You know… I might not like your dad but I can’t deny that he’s hot.” you tease.

“Of course you would say that.” Justin face scrunches up in disgust making you laugh, “I forgot how you prefer older men.”

“Yep! And it’s thanks to you.”

“Hey! I wasn’t that bad!”

“You weren’t good either.”

“You’re such a fucking bitch.” Justin shakes his head with a laugh.

“Yeah but you still love me though.” you smile smugly at him.

“Unfortunately.” you slap his shoulder making him recoil away from you with a smile.

Justin parks the car a little further than the house since the road was already cut off from how many cars were parked. ‘Rack City’ by Tyga burst through the loudspeakers, you could feel the vibration in your entire body.

Justin being the gentleman that he is with you, opens the door for you. He helps you of the car and steady you in your heels. He tugs down the back of your dress as he closes the door. You thanked him.

Justin places his hand on your lower back and guides you to the house full of people.

“Woo!!! Senior graduates!!!” You hear someone cheers running into the house.

“Woo!!!” Justin mimics next to you, he wraps his arm around your shoulder pulling close to his side.

Entering the house, the place is decorated in the school colors of blue and black streamers, paper graduation caps hanging from the end of a stream decorates in various places in the ceiling, different color lights shine brightly in different rooms of the house. The party is awesome.

“Yo, Justin! Glad you could make it bro!” Mickey steps in front of the both of you, he hands Justin a drink.

“Wouldn’t miss it.” Justin chugs down whatever alcohol was in the cup like it was nothing.

“N/n you look scrumptious as ever.” Mickey smirks at you.

“Bite me.” you roll your eyes, showing your disinterest at his attempt of flirting.

“I will if-“

“Hey what did I say?” Justin points a threatening finger against Mickey’s chest.

“Sorry.” Mickey raises his hands up, palms out.

Yeah, Justin is over protective of you, that’s much is clear. He’s basically one of the reasons why no one never really picked on you. They were afraid of Justin, he has just as much of a reputation as his father.

The last time a guy tried to pick on you ended up with a concussion and Justin suspended.

Not only is he over protective of people picking on you, he’s also over protective when it comes to guys flirting with you. He acts like an older brother wanting to protect his younger sister’s innocence, which is kinda weird to you since he was the one that took your virginity.

“Y/n!!!” You hear someone suddenly screech and jumps on you wrapping their arms around you.

“Bitch!” You groan at the added weight. You thank the lord for Justin holding you up if not you would’ve fell and everyone would’ve gotten an eyeful.

Recognizing the blue hair, you instantly knew it was Gwen.

Gwen pulls herself away from you, her hands on your shoulder and her eyes gaze up and down at your figure with a smirk.

“You look hot, babe.”

“Thanks Gwen.” you laugh at her bluntness.

“C’mon the others are waiting for you.” she grabs your wrist to tug you along with her.

“Hey!” Justin shouts offensively, throwing his arms up.

“Relax, pretty boy. We’ll be by the pool so you know where she’s at. Geez he acts like he’s your boyfriend or something.” Gwen rolls her eyes.

You smile sheepishly at Justin who doesn’t stop glaring at Gwen. You let Gwen take you to the back of the house where the pool is.

There you meet up with Daniel, Jacky, Sean, and Kate.

“Y/n Olinsky at a house party. Never thought I’ll see the day. I didn’t take you the type to be into this kind of thing. I thought clubs will be more your thing.” Daniel grins.

“Hey if theres alcohol involved I’m coming.”

“Speaking of coming. Here.” Kate hands you a red cup, “its squirt with tequila.”

“You’re the best.” you take the drink and chug it down, wincing a little at the after taste of the tequila but that’s to the soda it keeps it at bay.

Two hours into the party, you’ve danced with your friends, watched the guys play beer pong, and the people who are at the pool.

You, Jacky, and Gwen decided to take a break from the party and sit down on the steps of the porch to get some air that doesn’t smell like sweat and alcohol.

“What you planning on doing after high school?” Ask Jacky before she sips the rest of her alcohol.

“I don’t know about y’all but I’m ain’t going to college. I just want to travel around the world with my cat. I could do it, you know. I could just get a random job, buy a bus, buy the supplies, and just remodel it. I could just work online.”

“That’s sounds badass.” you respond to Gwen.

“What about you?” Gwen turns the question to you. You shrug.

“I got accepted in NYU Groosman School of Medicine.” you mutter. You hear the two girls squeal making you wince.

“Dude isn’t that your dream school?”

“It is.”

“Then why does it sound like you aren’t excited about it?”

“Maybe because I don’t want to go to the medical field. The whole reason I even applied was because I wanted to get out of here and be on my own. My mom wanted me go to a college close by but I want to be independent and be on my own.” you sigh.

You’ve been understandably stressed out. You wanted to get out of your parents house and be independent but you also don’t want to be away from home. You don’t want to leave Lexi alone with your overbearing mom, you know your dad would be there but he’s too busy with work to be at home most of the time.

You didn’t think you’ll be accepted to NYU. It has a reputation of being one of the hardest colleges to be accepted in. The only reason you applied is because you were good in Biology, Chemistry, Physics, and Calculus. Your teachers always encouraged you in the medical field so that’s what you did but now you’re starting to regret your decision.

“You know what you need?” Gwen looks directly at you.

“What’s that?” You answered, taking a sip from the cup in your hand.

“To get laid.”

The way that you choked on your drink was undignified and most unlady-like.

You glare at Jacky and at Gwen who was smirking. Jacky patted your back, sympathetically.

Surprisingly, the thumping music vibrated through your body, calming your mind. The alcohol also helped!

“First of all,” you clear your throat, “I get laid plenty, thank you very much. Second, how did we go from talking about our future to getting me laid?”

“Your still fucking that fire fighter?” Question Jacky

“Oh yeah.”

“I wonder what your dad would say if he ever finds out.” teases Gwen with a knowing smirk

“He will say nothing cause it’s none of his business.” you roll your eyes.

“Not if he finds out which one it is.” Jacky grins down at her cup.

“Maybe.” you shrug

“Dude, what is it with cops and firefighters having a war against each other?”

“Right? What’s up with that?”

“Who knows.” you shrug, “i think-“

“Shh!” Gwen shushes you, “ya hear that?”

Just as when Gwen says that, you hear the distance sound of police sirens. Leaning forward, in the distance you see the red and blue flashing lights.

“COPS!!!”

Just like that everything runs into chaos. Everyone runs around trying to get out of the house and make a run for it.

Everyone is drunk as fuck to even run straight. So were you but you were sober enough to get up and run in the house to look for Justin.

“Justin!” You shout over the crowd of people. You stand on your tippy toes to look over the crowd but couldn’t find him.

"Y/n, what are you doing?” Mickey suddenly appears in front of you, his eyes wide. He quickly takes your hand. "We gotta go."

“But Justin-“

“He’ll be fine. C’mon there’s no time.” you nod, letting him pull you out of the house.

The house is still half empty of drunk teenagers as the cops surrounds the house, but that doesn’t stop Mickey from making a run for it with you behind him.

“Freeze! Stop where you are!”

“Shit!” Mickey curses.

“Hey Cal, there’s alcohol surrounding the place. These kids been drinking.”

Of course someone called the cops on the party, what a cliche.

“Arms in the air and turn around. Slowly.”

Doing as your told. Two cops you don’t recognize, walks towards the two of you.

One reached for the cuffs at his belt, quickly grabbing you by the elbow and cuffs your wrist in front of you. He grabs you by your elbow leading you to a police car.

“Hey!” You whine from the tight grip of his hand on you.

“Keep moving.”

“Calm it, I’m in heels, asshole.” you snap at him.

Opening the door, the cop pushes your head down as you get in, the other cop pushes Mickey in next to you.

“Fuck. My dad is going to kill me.” you quietly groan, throwing your head back. You look out the window seeing some other kids being dragged into different cop cars.

The drive to the police station was a blur. The same cop drags you out of the car with Mickey behind you.

Seeing the familiar silver haired woman with her normal stern face in the front desk, you keep your head down so she won’t recognize you.

“You have to be so rough?!” You glare at the cop as he pushes you down on a chair and cuffs your left hand on the armrest, “is that really necessary?”

The cop ignores you, he walks away with your confiscated purse in his hand.

“Hey asshole, watch it!” you turn your toward the noise to see Mickey being dragged, the cop shoves him down in the chair next to you.

“Both of you wait here till we get back.”

“Like we have much of a choice.” you bite back. The cop gives you a look before leaving.

“Fuck man.” Mickey groans next to you.

“Tell me about it. I had to get arrested wearing this.” you point at your red dress. Compared to the plain looking police station, you stand out like a sore thumb.

“Could be worse.” Mickey smirks down at you.

“Oh yeah? Like what?”

“You could look like him.” Mickey points at what looks like a man in women’s clothing. Is that a prostitute?

“Oh my god, Mickey! Don’t point!” you scold him and pinch his side with your hand that isn’t restraint.

“Ow okay!” he laughs as he tries to get away from you.

“Hank, you’re still here?” You overhear Trudy, you lean over slightly to see none other than Hank.

“Fuck.” you groan.

“I thought you left with the others.”

“Nah. I needed to get some paper work done first.”

“You know him?” Mickey looks between you and Hank.

“Yeah that’s Justin’s dad also my dad’s best friend. Quick make yourself big so he won’t see me.”

“Babe,” Mickey deadpans at you, “your dress is a far cry compared to everything here. He’ll notice you even if I try to cover you.”

“Shut up and do as your told.” you shove him.

“Hey!”

“Alright.” the police officer from before walks up to the two of you. “I’ll need your name”

“Y/n.” he writes it down.

“Last name?”

You hesitate, “Olinsky.” you mumble.

The police officer pauses, he gazes down at you before letting out a hearty laugh, “Olinsky? You’re Alvin’s daughter?” You wince at how loud he’s being, “No fucking way.”

Well so much for being discreet. If Hank didn’t know you were here now he does.

You shift in your seat uncomfortably, your eyes gaze around the room before hiding your face behind you hand. Trying to make yourself small as possible.

“Y/n?” You hear the all familiar gravelled husky voice of Hank. You look up to see Hank gaze on you with a raised brow. You two make eye contact for a split second, before you break it.

“You got to be fucking kidding me.” you mumble, sliding down your chair slightly and cover your eyes with your hand.

You want the floor to swallow you whole.

“What’s going on here?” Hank question the officer.

“Someone called about a house party. These kids been drinking.” You roll your eyes at the officers matter of fact tone.

“Is that right?” Hank gaze goes back to you, his expression hard to read, making you feel uneasy.

God kill me now. Please.

“Apparently this one right here is Al’s daughter.”

“I’ll take her off your hands and take it from here.

Mickey sits quietly next to you with raised brow, astonished. He looks at you and mouths ‘what the fuck’.

“Uhh Sarge, I don’t think-“ one hard look from Hank made him reconsider. “Okay. No problem.”

“Uncuff her.”

“Sure. Okay.”

You watch silently as the officer stumbles a little with the keys and takes off your handcuff. You sigh as you rub your wrist in relief from its tight bounds.

“Let’s go.” Hank gestures for you to get up with his fingers.

“Did you have anything with you before you got arrested?”

“Yeah my purse. It has my phone and wallet in it.”

Hank turns to the police officer.

“Where’s her purse?”

“It’s confiscated in a storage location.”

“Get someone to bring me her belongings and her arrest charges. I’ll be in my office.”

“Yes Sarge.”

He grabs you by the elbow, more gently than the cop did and . You both barely made it half way to wherever he planned on taking you when you start to protest.

“Hey! Wait a second! I’m not going anywhere with you.” you yank your arm out of his grip.

You watch the way Hank clenches his jaw as he looks at you, losing his patience with your bratty attitude, but you don’t shy away from his stare.

“For once, be a good girl and do what I say. Al might tolerate your attitude but I surely won’t.” Hank retorts, his eyes never leaving yours, a shiver going down your spine at his dark tone.

“Now move it, princess.” you roll your eyes at the pet name and begrudgingly let Hank lead you with a hand on the small of your back.

Hank leads you up the stairs to the bullpen and into his office. Opening the door, he allows you to enter first before he does and closes the door behind him.

“Sit down.” At his sharp tone, you oblige instantly with no arguement from you.

Besides your dad, Hank could be scary at times but you do have a tendency of pushing a little too far.

Hank not once takes his eyes off you, he stands in front of his desk. Hank leans back against it with arms cross against his chest.

“Does Al know where you are?”

“What do you think?”

“What the hell were you thinking?”

“Excuse me?”

“You could’ve gotten yourself arrested. You going to graduate on Friday and this is how act? You could’ve ruin your chances for college education.”

“Why does it matter to you?”

“Al told me you got accepted into NYU. You really want to ruin that by getting arrested for underage drinking?”

“Who are you to be getting after me? You’re not my dad.”

“No I’m not. But I am someone who cares about you. I know you don’t like me, Y/n. You made that perfectly clear. But your Al’s daughter and my son’s friend. I protect my own and that includes you!”

You and Hank don’t break eye contact. Both waiting for the other to break first.

“Sargent.?” someone knocks on the door before opening it and entering.

“Yeah?” Hank switches his gaze away from you to the officer who just entered.

“Here’s her belonging and her case file you asked for.” the officer hands hank a yellow folder and your purse.

“Is this all?”

“Yes sir.”

“Thanks.” the officer nods and leaves, closing the door once again.

Hank walks around his desk looking through the file before slamming it shut and throw it the trash making your eyes widen.

Did he really just throw away your arrest charges down the trash?

Hank drops down into his chair behind his desk, not taking his eyes off you. Almost challenging you to say something.

“Why?” Is you could ask.

“Consider this me offering you a truce.”

“Truce? For what?”

“I want us to get along. And I’ll start by doing this.”

You didn’t know what to say. You didn’t think he would basically erase your arrest charges. If anything you thought he would use this to blackmail you or something.

“Are you going to tell my dad?”

He leans back in his chair, fingers interlacing across his mid-section as he considers you for a few moments before replying.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”

Wow. You didn’t expect that. Hank just keeps surprising more and more. You assumed he would call your dad the second he saw you handcuffed in the police station.

“How much did you drink?”

“What?”

“You’ve been drinking haven’t you?”

“Yes.”

“How much?”

“If you’re asking if I’m drunk. No I’m not. I only drank two or three cups but they weren’t strong. I was tipsy when the cops came. I got sober pretty fast when an officer roughly pushed me in the police car.”

“Who?”

“Who what?”

“The officer. Who was the officer that arrested you?”

“I don’t know. He had a pornstache that you see only in bad pornos.” you shrug.

Hank smirks amused at your answer.

“You still feel a little tipsy?”

“A little.”

“Okay.” suddenly Hank stands up from his chair and walks around his desk, grabbing your purse along the way and hands it to you, “let’s go.”

“Wait what?” You were taken back. You stumble over yourself trying to stand up.

“Where we going?”

“To sober you up.”

“I said I was a little tipsy.”

“I don’t care. Let’s go.” once again Hank places his hand in the small of your back to lead you out of his office. He turns off the light and closes the door, locking it.

You walk close behind him down the stairs. Hank stands on your right side, guiding you to the front entrance.

“Heading out for the night, Trudy.”

“Alright. See ya in the morning.”

Stepping outside, he leads you to his SUV. Walking to the passanger side, Hank opens the door and helps you before closing the door behind you once you sat down comfortably.

You reach for the seat belt buckling yourself up, you sit silently watching out the window with your purse on your lap.

The driver side door opens and Hank gets in. He takes a deep breath before shoving the keys in the keyhole and turn on the SUV.

The entire drive was in complete silence. You start to feel a little awkward being in close proximity with Hank. You never been alone with him before.

“Where we going?”

“There’s a diner close by that’s open 24/7.”

“Why we going there?”

“You need something in your stomach other than whatever alcohol you were drinking.”

“Why do you care so much?”

“I told you, I protect my own and that includes you”

For the rest of the ride you kept your mouth shut. Arriving the diner, Hank gets out first, walking around the front of the SUV and opens the door, holding his hand out to help you down.

Such a gentlemen. Now you know where Justin gets it from.

Once the both of you enter the diner, you both get seated in a booth. Hank sitting across from you.

Looking around the place, it’s practically empty, reminding how late it must be. You have yet to check the time.

A woman in her late 30s maybe mid 40s walks towards your table, “Hello, my name is Rachel and I’ll be you waitress” she place down two menus infront of you and Hank.

“Before we start, will the check be separate or together?”

“It’ll be sep-“

“Together.” Hank cuts you off. Your brows raised as you look at him.

Not only did this man saved you from getting arrested, he’s also buying you food.

“Okay, want to start off with drinks?”

“You have sweet tea?”

“Mhmm, we do”

“I’ll take that”

“I’ll get the same thing.”

“Alright. You two ready to order or do you want time to look at the menu.”

“We’ll take the cheeseburger with everything on both and fries.” Hank tells the waitress. She lets out a soft okay, writing it down. She grabs the two menus before leaving, letting you and Hank be alone once more.

“You’re buying me food too?”

“I’m a gentleman.” he retorts making you shake your head with a laugh.

“Well now I know where Justin gets it from.” you grin at him, you place your elbow on the table with your on the palm of your hand.

“Speaking of Justin, was he at the house party with you? You two always been thick as thieves for as long as I can remember.”

“Will he get in trouble if I say he was?”

“Only for leaving you alone to get arrested.”

“He didn’t leave me alone.” you defend Justin, “we were separated with our different group of friends when the cops showed up. I was looking for him but Mickey stopped me and tried to get us out of the house but the cops caught us.”

“The boy that was sitting next to you at the station?”

“Yeah.”

“Here’s your drinks,” the waitress comes back with two cups of sweet tea, “and your burger and fries.” she places down two plates in front of you and Hank, “enjoy.” she leaves.

“My dad told you about me going to NYU?” You mention, stuffing a couple of fries in your mouth, remembering Hank mentioning it back at the station.

“He did. He’s really proud of you. Had the biggest smile on his face when he told me.”

You couldn’t help but smile at that. You knew how excited your dad was about you being accepted to one of the best colleges, you also knew how he didn’t like how you would be moving far away from home but he won’t voice it. He knows this could be big for you.

Your mom is whole another story. She’s been trying to change your mind from going since you gotten the letter.

“Same can’t be said about my mother.” you mutter, taking a sip from your cup.

“Yeah Alvin told me about that too.” Hank sighs, shifting in his seat.

“She’s unbearable. Did my dad tell you she blames him for me leaving?”

“She what?” His eyes widen, telling you your dad hasn’t said a word about it.

“Yep. This whole time I thought my dad was the problem but it turns out it’s my mom. Or both.” you shrug

“Is that why you sneaked out to go to a party?”

“Technically… I didn’t sneak out. My dad saw me leave… but he was drinking when I left but he wasn’t drunk.” you tried to plead your case.

“Did you tell him you were going to a party?”

“No.” you play with your straw.

“Did he see you leave in that?” he points at your dress.

“No.” you mutter in between sips.

“Then you were sneaking out. Did Justin park at the end of the street to pick you up?”

“That’s such a fucking cliche,” you laugh, “he parked in front of my house. My dad saw him and even said hi.”

You smile when Hank lets out laugh and shakes his head at you.

“Why are you being nice to me? I’ve been nothing but a bitch to you since the moment we met.” you start to feel guilty.

Even when you started to hang out with Justin and Erin more, you would sometimes go over to their house. Hank for the most part would stay out of the way but he’s been nothing but kind and caring to you when you stayed over. Now you feel like a complete bitch.

You really let your mother’s words brainwash you into thinking Hank is the devil or something. But he’s far from it. At least with you.

You’re not naive, you know what Hank does in the dark where no one sees, but that’s doesn’t stop him from being gentle and caring to the people he holds dear to him.

You’re surprised one of them is you.

“I know your mom don’t like me. Al mentioned once or twice she argues a lot about me involving him in certain situations. I’m not denying they aren’t true but-“

“It’s okay.” you cut him off, “You don’t have to explain yourself to me. I’m not a kid anymore, I know what’s goes on around me. I know you and my dad -maybe your entire squad- do behind the scene. I know you’ve killed people. it doesn’t scare me.”

“It should, sweetheart.”

“But it doesn’t. You only do it cause you care. You don’t hurt innocent people. You just take justice in your own hands. You just do what others aren’t willing to do. I could respect that.”

Hank hums, considering you for moment before speaking.

“You’re something else, you know that.” he grins making you smile.

Finishing off your meals, Hank pays for both your meals. Once again being a gentleman, he walks you to the passenger side and opens the door for you to get in.

Hank slows down and parks in front of your house. You look out the window to see all the lights in the house are off, telling you everyone should be asleep by now. Giving you the chance to sneak in without being seen.

“Listen,” hearing Hank’s voice, your turn your to look at him, “I know you’re scared about moving away from home but do me a favor.”

“What kind of favor?” You squint your eyes at him.

“Take care yourself in New York.” he says softly and he genuinely means it by the way he looks at you.

“I will.” you gently smile at him. Hank shifts in his seat and opens the center console, grabbing a card handing it to you.

“Here.”

“What is it?”

“My business card. It has my office and my personal number. Don’t be afraid to call me if you need anything.”

“Thank you, Hank.”

“Go inside. You should give Justin a call to let him know you’re alright. He’s probably worried about you.”

“I will.” You smile before leaning over and giving him a small kiss on the cheek, “Goodnight, Hank.”

“Goodnight, sweetheart. Take care.” You nod before getting out of his SUV. Hank softly smiles as he watches you round the SUV.

“Hey!” Hank calls for you, making you turn around. “don’t tell your dad you were with me.”

“It’ll be our little secret.” you wink. Hank shakes his head amusingly. He waits a little longer till you enter the house. The second the front door closes, he drives off.

(This took so long to write but I’m happy how it turned out. Please don’t be shy to let me know what you think. I love reading your comments.

Can anyone guess who the fire fighter reader is sleeping with? Anyone who guesses right gets a cookie🍪)

[imaginesbymonika]

She's electric | Part 5

Pairing: Liam Gallagher x fem!bassist reader

Plot: Liam's hatred for Blur runs deep. However, no matter how much he hates them and their stupid music - he cannot seem to hate their bassist.

Last Part

(2024)

„Why now?“, Jimmy Fallon asks leaning back in his seat, his eyes on the two brothers. „The money.“, Noel jokes, while Liam can’t stop staring at the host in a mix of revulsion and annoyance. He was never the type to pretend to like someone. „It‘s not about the money, is it.”, Liam speaks up:” I missed sharing a stage with me brother, short and simple.”

After a few more minutes, Jimmy Fallon (now visibly intimidated) thanked them for stopping by and added a quick “Good luck on the tour.” But Liam continues his staring. It's something that Noel catches out of the corner of his eye. Some things never change, he reckons.

“This does feel like the old times.”, Noel scoffs softly as they walk down the hallway to their dressing rooms. “Don’t be such a buzzkill, will ya.”, Liam grins, throwing his arm around his brother's shoulders:” Ya love having me back.”

Noel wants to respond when suddenly a voice comes from around the corner that makes Liam stop dead in his tracks. “I don’t know, Damon.” Noel who also halts turns to look at him in confusion:” What’s wrong?”

It's like the world slows down when Blur comes into sight, chatting and laughing. And as if it’s the natural way of all things Liam and Y/N immediately make eye contact. She subconsciously grips Damon’s upper arm for support while a wave of emotions crashes over her. She nearly drowns.

“Well, well, well… look who it is.”, Liam’s voice is icy and distant. There’s a bitterness forming in the pit of his stomach… over how Y/N holds onto the blonde man, over the way she appears almost miserable to see him after all this time, and (it's probably the worst part) over the way she still looks so unbelievably beautiful. He scoffs and watches how she rolls her eyes.

“Let us through, Gallagher.”, Damon lets out, as he glances between the two brothers with a hint of exhaustion in his eyes. He’s been through this enough back in the 90s, he doesn’t need this type of energy now. He's too old for that. “What are you doing here?”, Noel asks, looking at his brother for a few seconds before his gaze shifts back to his almost sister-in-law. “We’re the musical guest.”

Liam’s face hardens further:” Oh yeah, yeah… you still just- just friends?” His index finger moves between Damon and Y/N. “Excuse me?!”, she asks letting go of the front singer. However, Liam just makes a mockery face at her:” Excuse me?! You know exactly what I am talking about.”

A heavy and dense silence falls over the hallway and Y/N tilts her head at Liam, as she studies his facial features. When suddenly the realization hits her like a truck:” Oh my god, you’ve got to be joking.” Noel and the others only stare at her in perplexity. “You still think Damon and I are a thing?! After all those fucking years?! Are you mental?!”

If Liam wasn't feeling as irritated as he already did, he might have felt a little more upset about her words, or perhaps he could have been more rational.

“Damon is still married to his wife! Stop acting like a dickhead!”, she takes an angry step towards him:” Do I have to remind you that he’s our fucking lead singer?!”

“Dickhead?! Oh excuse me that I never liked seeing you on stage with another man!”, Liam mirrors her, while rolling his shoulders back:” I just can’t help but wonder what actually goes on between the two of you.”

As soon as the words leave his lips, the fury on Y/N’s face turns into pure hurt. She blinks a few tears away:” Fuck you, Liam.”

And with that, she walks straight past him.

Liam doesn’t turn around to watch her, instead, he shuts his eyes for a second and murmurs something under his breath. “Damn, mate.”, Damon whispers and scoffs, although there’s a hint of disappointment in his eyes:” You still haven’t changed.”

[sundew199]

Random Reiner HCs (sfw)

A/n: a mix of relationship and non-relationship, some are modern day. Again these are just my headcanons, and just for fun :)

Will sing girly pop songs with you in the car, does not care.

Cannot sit on the couch for longer than 5 minutes or he’ll fall asleep and stay asleep for the rest of the day, you better hope and pray y’all don’t have plans

Has a HORRENDOUS farmers tan 💀, looks like he’s still wearing a shirt when he takes his off

Will only play videos games if Gabi and Falco ask him too, other than that he doesn’t play that often, but does like to watch you play your games. It’s like having your own narrator/commentator :)

Sets at least 10 alarms to get up for work in the morning but doesn’t wake up to any of them, you have to wake him up after the nth alarm by practically shoving him off the bed

Garbage disposal, will eat anything you cook without hesitation and don’t even think about buying snacks because they’ll barely last a day

Physical touch is one of his love languages 100%. If you don’t feel like cuddling in bed he’ll still find a way, like making sure his foot is touching yours 😭

He’s Bob the builders long lost brother, you’ll mention wanting a piece of furniture vaguely and he’s already putting together a mental list of the materials he needs to build it for you

Naturally fit, doesn’t need to go to the gym often to maintain his physique

Bisexual. (And I will not be elaborating)

Doesn’t mind doing skincare with you or letting you use him as a makeup canvas you just gotta convince him first,

Ironically isn’t that great with money, not extremely irresponsible but you have to hold onto his wallet or he’ll buy the entire store if he feels like it

Played sports in school, but never got that into them. He was naturally good and coaches loved him but couldn’t find the passion

Old man trapped in a younger body, swears he feels 50 when he’s only in his early twenties

He snores but SWEARS he doesn’t

Lowkey really bad at texting people back, prefers to call. And if he does call, clear your schedule cause it’s not going to be a quick one (you don’t mind hehehe)

He can be sooooooo dramatic if he wants to be. Over little inconveniences mostly he just wants to be babied, baby him >:(

Drives a truck and I mean like a 90s model Chevy pickup that he’s had since high school that he’s fully restored and is insanely proud of. Has not even considered getting a newer truck because he just can’t let go his older one (first big purchase he made, so it’s sentimental, leave him alone)

Very rarely has a filter, and not in that kinda way, he just sometimes says what he thinks out loud and you have to pretend you didn’t hear him and move on 😭

Is so blind to flirting, like total blindness. You had to finally spell it out to him that you LIKED him and not as a friend for him to realize what you were doing. It’s gotten worse since you and him have been together because he still doesn’t realize when other people flirt or throw themselves at him (he can be such a himbo, I love him)

Cat person

Very in tune with his emotions. Wasn’t always like that since he had a rough childhood but after going to therapy after high school he doesn’t conceal his emotions anymore and can be upfront at times

Does NOT play about you. Reiner is a very sweet caring person but the second he notices you’re uncomfortable around a guy/girl a flip switches and he turns into the intimidating beefy dude that no one wants to fuck with. (It’s lowkey so hot)

Worships you, (obviously) by buying flowers at least every week or two so that way they never die. Date nights, weekend trips, the whole nine yards. He loves spending time with you and showing you how much you mean to him

Grew up catholic, doesn’t practice anymore due to the conformity pushed onto him. Isn’t really religious in general but does believe in a high power.

Wants a big family. At least two kids, maybe more if you’re willing. Doesn’t like the idea of his child not having siblings like him and also just loves family orientation in general. Definitely a big family guy. 

Good with kids 😈

If you use any lingo around him like say: girl, girly, pookie, bae, dawg, homie, bro, etc. he will eventually start to use it unironically until he can’t stop. (I may be projecting but it’s funny so idc.)

[rumi-buni]

𝒜𝓅𝓅𝑒𝓉𝒾𝓉𝑒

TW: Talk of sexual assault, weird family dynamics, a gun

You’ve decided that Hanma Shuji is the prettiest when he’s asleep. He lays on his stomach, his head resting on his pillow and his hair fanned around his head like a halo. The earlier morning light filters through his blinds, casting a glow over his features. He looks so much younger like this, his cheek pressed into his pillow, his lips slightly parted. Memories of last night float around your mind. Shuji’s lips on yours, the way he pulled you closer, the light taste of nicotine still on him.

You would stay in this moment forever if you could. You carefully trace your fingertips over his lips, following their plush curve. He lets out a puff of breath that tickles your fingertips. You can’t help the fond smile that makes a home on your lips. You really wish you could stay here, but you have a man to kill first. You’re careful as you untangle yourself from the bed sheets, you don’t want to wake him up. Not yet anyway. You’re quiet as you pad around his room, rummaging through his drawers for a shirt less wrinkled than your own. It takes longer than it should to find an acceptable shirt, but your pleased when you finally do. A plain black shirt, that looks relatively new. You off-handedly wonder if he bought it with the money you gave him. You swap your shirt for his, tossing yours somewhere on his floor and tugging the new shirt down over your head. You’re nearly silent as you shuffle to his side of the bed. Even from this angle he looked heavenly. You lean over him, brushing his hair back from his forehead and pressing your lips to the smooth skin in a feather light kiss. You pull away quickly, letting your free hand slip Hanma’s house keys off of his nightstand and into your pocket.

Guns were difficult to acquire in Japan. Difficult but not impossible. You stand outside of the tea shop you met Hanma in so many weeks ago. You didn’t realize how close he lived, a quick 10 minute walk and here you are. Your phone chimes, pulling your attention from your thoughts. You pull it out of your pocket, a message alert lights up the display. You flip it open.

From an unsaved number: ‘I have it. Are you here?’

You close your phone and enter the tea shop. The man you’re meeting sits at a small table in the corner, a black bag by his feet. You take a seat across from him. Time has etched lines into his face, his hair is now entirely silver.

He clears his throat, motioning to the table. “Would you care for a cup of tea?”

“Thank you, but I’m in a hurry today, Nakamura-san.”

His gaze lingers on you, curiosity piqued. “The last time I saw you, you were just a child. What could a little girl possibly want with a gun?”

A knowing smile touches Nakamura-san’s lips, his fascination evident. You lean forward, elbows resting on the table.

“The less you know about my plans, the better,” you reply, offering a smile that you hope mirrors the intimidating confidence of your father’s.

Nakamura-san’s eyes narrow slightly, but he nods and hands you the bag. It’s heavier than you anticipated, and you use both hands to pull it towards you. He chuckles softly.

“I trust you know how to handle that.”

Your gaze meets his steadily. “I do.”

Nakamura-san stands and heads for the door. “Give your father my regards.”

Your eyes follow him as he slips out of the tea shop and onto the streets of Kabukicho. Before leaving yourself. You weave through the streets of Kabukicho, the bag on your shoulder weighing you down. You weren’t done yet though. You stopped at a small clothing store, you needed something to change into before going home later. Your father would ask where you’ve been, you didn’t need to set him off by coming home in some man’s clothes. Besides it would be nice to have fresh clothes to change into after a shower. You were quick in the clothing store, and quicker in the cafe you stopped in to pick up breakfast. You hoped to get back before Shuji woke up.

You unlock the door quietly, slipping into Shuji’s apartment with a soft ‘click’ as the door closes behind you. You carefully remove your sneakers, leaving them neatly in the genkan, and move through the apartment with light, measured steps. As you approach the kitchen, you start to set your bags on the counter, but the sight that greets you makes you freeze.

Shuji is leaning casually against the counter, a mug of coffee in his hands. The coffee seems almost comically small compared to his large hands, but it’s not the coffee that catches your attention. It’s the towel wrapped around his hips, still damp, with droplets of water tracing paths down his chest. He must have just stepped out of the shower.

His deep, morning voice cuts through the silence. “My eyes are up here, doll.” The sleepy rasp of his tone sends a shiver of excitement through you.

You tear your gaze away from the tempting V-line of his torso and meet his eyes, now fixed on his face.

“I thought you’d still be asleep.” You murmur, setting the bags on the counter.

Shuji shrugs, sipping his coffee. You unpack the bags on the counter, setting your clothes on the edge of the counter.

“What’chu get?” Hanma asks, pushing away from the counter and coming to stand over you. You can feel the heat radiating off of him, and your heart beats just a little faster having him this close to you.

“Breakfast,” You pull a few neatly wrapped breakfast sandwiches, “And some new clothes.”

Hanma picks up one of the sandwiches, inspecting it curiously.

“Why so many?” Hanma asks, unwrapping the sandwich.

“I wasn’t sure how many you would eat.”

Shuji nods, “What’s in that bag?” he motions to the heavy black bag still sitting on the counter.

You stare at the bag for a moment before turning your attention to him, “A surprise.” You smile at him.

“I’m going to take a shower, don’t eat all of the sandwiches.” You gather your clothes up from the end of the counter, making your way to the bathroom.

“I’ll think about it!” Hanma calls from the kitchen.

You find Hanma lounging on his couch, a breakfast sandwich in one hand and the TV remote in the other. You’re glad he finally put some clothes on. You can focus better when his rippling abs aren’t distracting you.

“Y’know, I was thinking,” Shuji speaks through a mouth full of food and you wrinkle your nose at the sight, “How did you get back in? After you left.”

You settle into the couch beside him. You reach for the breakfast sandwich sitting on the coffee table, you carefully unwrap it.

“I took your keys. You left them on your night table.”

Shuji shoots you a surprised look, “So you’re a thief too?”

You roll your eyes, “I’m not a thief, I put your keys back on your night table.”

You take a bite of your sandwich.

“You never really explained why you want your dad dead.”

Your eyes snap to Shuji’s face, but he’s already looking at you waiting for an answer. You shift, setting your half-eaten sandwich down and pulling your legs to your chest.

“I never knew my mom. She died when I was a baby, so I don’t remember her and my father doesn’t keep any photos of her. I think he was lonely after she died. So he started dating different women. I remember a few of them, they were mostly nice to me. But I don’t think any of them could fill that void for him. Eventually, he stopped dating altogether. I think I was twelve the first time.” You look at Shuji, meeting his eyes. You realize he doesn’t understand. “People say I look like her, my mom. He saw it too, as I got older. I think for him using me is the closest he can get to being with her again.”

You let the silence stretch between the two of you, as you wait for the pieces to fall into place in Shuji’s head.

“Your fathers been raping you since you were twelve? Because he misses his dead wife?” You can hear the irritation and disgust rising in Shuji’s voice.

“Yes.”

He’s off the couch in an instant, “What the fuck? What kind of sick bastard does that shit?” He’s shouting, but not at you. He’s shouting for you. It’s a nice feeling, knowing someone cares about you enough to be angry for you.

“I can’t take it anymore, and he’s not going to stop.” Tears well in your eyes, blurring your vision.

Hanma kneels in front of you, bringing one hand up to cup your cheek. “That bastard will never touch you again.”

You lean into his palm, relishing the warmth. You stay like this for a moment, Hanma gently strokes the soft skin of your cheek with his thumb.

“Tomorrow night,” You whisper, “We’ll kill my father.”

Shuji’s gold eyes are trained on yours, “Alright. Tomorrow night.”

𝓟𝓻𝓮𝓿𝓲𝓸𝓾𝓼 𝓝𝓮𝔁𝓽

𝒯𝒶𝑔𝓁𝒾𝓈𝓉: @duchess-rowan-lover

[pizzaintheuk]

Hello,

Just thought I let people know I love Tekken and cannot wait for Tekken 8. I love Sergei Dragunov and his weird personality but his moves my days boi can knock you out!

Anyway enjoy this short fanfic. It's nothing romantic just a female (Y/N) trying to help out Sergei Dragunov in socialising.

Dragunov was a member of the Spetsnaz, the elite special forces of the Russian military. He was known for his overwhelming fighting powers, able to take down multiple enemies with ease. But despite his incredible skills, Dragunov was an selective mute. He rarely spoke to anyone and never showed any emotions.

He lived in a rundown apartment with little to no heating. Dragunov didn't mind the cold as this was the mother land.

His neighbor was a woman who lived alone as her mother past away not so long ago. Y/N lived a private life but help out around the local area. She works at a corner shop not far from the apartment block. When times gets hard Y/N is the go to person for help.

Y/N often noticed Dragunov's coming back from whatever job he was doing very late and notice how tired he always looked. Like the walking undead most people describe him in the area. It wasn't hard as they were next door neighbour Y/N knew that he only went out to work and rarely left his apartment otherwise. Y/N was starting to get worried about Dragunov. When he does leave his apartment it's mostly getting grocery shopping which is hardly much.

Y/N decided to help him.

She started by leaving notes on dragunov's front door to communicate. Mostly asking if he need anything from the shop. Weeks, months went by with no replay. Y/N was about to give up until a note on her front door reading...

"bread"

It wasn't much but it was a start.

Over time notes became polite wave before heading inside their apartments. However, after a day shift at the shop Y/N was having a horrible time with opening her front door. Y/N could not understand why it's happening now...

Y/N felt a heavy glove hand on her left shoulder. It spooked her so much she quickly move away from the attacker which was Dragonuv. He moved the other hand toward the handle and with a force the door open.

"Thank you for opening my door" Y/N said which Dragonuv reply with a head nod and walk towards his apartment.

One Sunday morning Y/N felt brave and knock on Dragonuv's door. After a few minutes he slowly opening the door. His face still as emotional as a stone.

"I'm doing my shopping do you want to join me? Y/N said...

Dragonuv slam the door to Y/N surprised however after a few minutes the door reopen with Dragonuv wearing his fur coat.

This start them going food shopping once a week and was shocked to find out that Dragunov had never even tried chocolate before.

Dragunov had never had a normal life. He had never been social or gone out with friends. His life was dedicated to training and serving his country, no matter what. But as he got to know Y/N, he started to see that there was more to life than just being a soldier. He noticed that Y/N didn't have much money and tried to hide it in front of him.

One day, he heard noises coming from Y/N apartment and went to check it out. It turned out that her landlord was demanding more money for the apartment and threatening to kick Y/N out. Dragonuv didn't like that. He knew how kind his neighbour had been to him and couldn't stand to see her suffer. He decided to take matters into his own hands and went to confront the landlord. Using his intimidating presence, he scared the landlord into backing off and also helped the Y/N negotiate a better deal for her apartment.

From that day on, Dragunov and Y/N became good friends. She would often cook him meals and he would help her with small tasks around the apartment. He even showed her some basic self-defense moves, as a way to thank her.

Thanks to his neighbor, Dragunov started to open up more and show his emotions. He learned that there was more to life than just fighting and serving his country. He realized that he could still be a strong soldier while also caring for others and forming meaningful relationships. From then on, Dragunov had a new purpose in life. He continued to serve his country with unwavering loyalty, but he also made time for his neighbor.

He may still be an selective mute, his actions spoke volumes about his caring and compassionate nature.

[xxleigh]

It’s Halloween night and you come across Alucard at the bar. You don’t take him seriously when he says he’s a vampire because everyone dresses up as a vampire for Halloween. That was your biggest mistake.

CW: violence, biting, blood, death.

This is also my first time writing. Bear with me here.

____________________________

It was Halloween and there was no better way to celebrate than by getting plastered at your local bar. You decided to wear a vampire costume this year. You were usually very creative with your outfits, but you were feeling a bit lazy this year.

You stumbled your way to the bar, the alcohol already clouding your mind. You spot a man sitting at the bar. He had broad shoulders and long black hair. His aura should be intimidating to anyone, but not to you. Maybe you were too drunk to notice his glowing eyes as you took a seat next to him.

“What are you supposed to be?” You ask while flagging down the bartender for another drink.

He looks you up and down taking in your painfully obvious vampire outfit. He finds it amusing how you’ve found yourself in the presence of a true vampire who could snap your neck like a twig without second thought.

“Why I’m a vampire of course. The best one around.” His voice comes out like velvet.

You take a minute to examine him. He was wearing a black long sleeve shirt that had chains and buckles attached to it along with a pair of black leather pants. If you didn’t know any better you’d think he was in a gimp costume.

“Did you choose a vampire from a movie? I’m going as one of Dracula’s wives!” You state proudly.

“Oh no, young lady I’m an original vampire. Not one of those ones you see in media,” he offers a menacing smile.

You don’t pick up on his menacing aura. You were far too drunk to notice the situation you were in. You naively show off your plastic fangs to him.

“I finally got these to stay on! One fell off in my drink earlier,” you raise your cup for emphasis, “had to fish it out and put it back on.”

“Fangs really set the whole outfit together don’t they? But…” he leans in close to you until your noses are touching and the smell of a cigar on his breath fans your face, “these aren’t fake.”

Now up close you can see his eyes are a deep crimson shade and seem to be giving off a faint glow. You were amazed by his dedication to the outfit realizing you forgot contacts of your own.

“I think you’ll find my fangs are far more durable than yours,” he traces his finger over the pulse in your neck.

His touch was like ice and sent shivers straight down your spine. The look in his eyes should’ve been enough to make you run, but you didn’t. Whether it be you were drunk or too stupid to sense the danger you were in.

“May I touch them?” You innocently ask as you wonder how he got them to stay on all night.

His eyes darken at your request, “why of course, little one,”

You don’t notice the way the glow in his eyes seems to intensify. You’re only focused on his fangs and how sharp they are. Much sharper than your store bought ones.

You slowly raise your arm to his fang and run the pad of your finger across it. He waited until seemed content with touching his fang before he bit your finger hard enough to draw blood.

You let out a shocked gasp and yank your finger away. You see your blood coating his razor sharp teeth. The action had caused you to sober up a significant amount.

“What the hell?” You angrily ask.

He turns to you with a feigned innocence plastered on his face, “I’m sorry doll. Did I bite too hard?” He licked the blood off his teeth.

Your blood ran cold. Something about his tone made every nerve in your body scream at you to run. You gathered your purse and slammed some money on the counter.

“Uh, nice meeting you. I think I’ve had my fun here,” you stammer over your words quickly putting distance between the two of you.

“That’s a shame. I haven’t had my fill yet,”

His words paralyzed you on the spot. You knew you had to get out. And you needed to get out now. You push past the sea of bodies crowding around the bar. You quickly lost sight of him and began looking for the exit. Once in your sight, you wrapped your sweaty hand around the cool metal bar and pushed.

The cool night air surrounded you and offered you relief from the panic you were feeling. You looked around and found that you took the alley exit, much to your dismay. Your car was around the building. As you begin to make your way to the safety of your car, you hear crunching gravel behind you. You whip around to see no one there.

“Fuck I’m being paranoid,” you think to yourself.

Then you hear it again, this time to your right. You spin around to see the man from inside the bar. Your eyes widen in terror. His menacing aura was felt by you. It was so strong your knees began to shake.

He didn’t give you time to speak before he began, “you know what I find interesting about the human body?” He begins circling you.

“There’s so many efficient ways to drain them of blood. My favorite though,” he stops right behind you, his breath tickling your neck, “is the throat.”

You shiver as his breath fans your sensitive neck. He presses his chest against your back and moves your hair to the side to gain full access to your bare throat.

“Please stop,” your voice comes out as a whisper.

“But we’ve just begun, little one.”

He lowers his mouth to your neck. Your panic begins to set in at full force. You pull yourself away from him and begin to run ignoring the pain your heels were causing your feet. Within a blink of an eye he lunged at you sending you crashing into the cold gravel beneath you.

He grabs both of your arms to effortlessly pin them above your head as he straddles you, “this won’t hurt,” he lets out a deep laugh that rumbles within his chest, “try not to scream.”

Before you could open your mouth to scream, his large hand covers your mouth leaving just his other hand to pin down both of yours. He can’t help but think of how pathetic you look under him. You looked absolutely terrified with tears brimming in your eyes. He wanted to see you cry. It was a sight he found most beautiful.

“Go on. Cry for me. Beg me to stop. Beg me to spare you,” he removed his hand from your mouth to see what you’d do.

You immediately try to call for help. He’s quick to silence you again, more forcefully this time. His hand engulfs the whole lower part of your face reminding you of just how small you are in comparison to him.

He watches the tears that fall from your eyes. He’s delighted to see such a beautiful little thing cry tears for him. He leans his face close to yours before darting his tongue out to lick your salty tears. He lets out a satisfied hum.

“Be a good girl and don’t make this too messy,”

His fangs graze the soft skin of your neck and you whimper. It was music to his ears. He gave a gentle nibble to see what other sounds he could pull from your mouth. He wasn’t disappointed when another whimper graced his ears.

Your blood was pumping so quickly now. He couldn’t contain himself. He sunk his teeth into your neck eagerly lapping up the sweet blood your veins offered him.

You clenched your fists in pain and tried to bite your lip, but his hold on your face made it hard to do much else, so you were left with letting out grunts of pain and muffled cries.

“Yes that’s it. Sing for me,” he had a crazed look now.

Your blood dripped from his mouth down his chin. He was quick to lick the blood from his chin, not wanting to waste any of your sweet gift.

He let go of your mouth. He wanted to hear all the sounds you were going to make for him as he feasted on your blood.

He ignored your pleas as he bit into your skin again. He had no intention of stopping this time. He greedily drank from you while your cries pierced the night.

You really were the best meal of his life.

[whatavery]

The Night We Met (Gift)

A birthday gift for my lovely boyfriend @circusb0nes featuring his OC Charles Spider and Mozzie Alonzo, everyone's favorite pianist cat. A short little story I'd planned out for how they met, the seeds for their future relationship were sown.

The cover image is a small part of a bigger image, which can be found in full here!

Part I: Shine

Despite it being late March, the wind still had a certain nippiness to it as it swept over the sidewalk. Charles Spider was seated by his soap box, a smile on his face as he’d turn his head towards passersby. The bright blue eyes that saw everything and nothing met strangers’ eyes and those that weren't too intimidated by the sight came up to him to have their shoes shined. He worked quickly and diligently to make sure each and every shoe was as shiny and clean as could be – just like if it had come from his shoe shop.

He hadn't had anyone stop by in a little while, even now as it was about the time of day that people got off work. Sitting there in his warm coat, a smile on his face, Spider looked like he was perfectly content with life, despite being on the cold street by his lonesome.

He could barely sense the moving form of an approaching stranger, but just barely. He could hear their footsteps just fine, however “Ah, good day, sir! How do you do? A fine day, ain’t it?”

Spider didn’t get a response, but the gray cat’s smile didn’t falter. He knew some people just weren't at all talkative, but he didn’t let that deter him from doing his best. Spider had done shoe-shining long enough to be able to completely polish and clean each shoe in under a minute. He worked hard and fast, intent on getting ever last bit of dirt off the stranger’s shoe. With his impaired vision, Spider had to be thorough to make sure the work was done correctly. Even without being able to see, he could sense the resistance that grit and dirt offered, could sense when the shoes were clean by the way his cloth would so smoothly slide across them.

“There you go, sir. You have a good day,” Spider said with a bright smile on his face. The stranger still said nothing, but as Spider held out his hand he felt a bank note being placed against his palm, much to his surprise – along with something else. He got to feel the stranger’s rough fingers momentarily brush his, though as he could hear them leaving, Spider inspected what else had been placed into his hand.

It was a small, metallic object and at first Spider thought it to be a coin, but further inspection disproved this. As he pocketed his money, Spider inspected the object. It had a single stem-like protrusion and three rounded ones that were considerably larger – a club shape. Shrugging, Spider pocketed it along with the bank note. A curious little gift, he thought to himself, but it was a nice surprise regardless.

Spider didn’t stick around for too much longer, just another hour till the rush of the workday coming to an end stopped. He collected his things and put them into his box, before proceeding to walk home. Even with impaired vision, Spider knew his way to and fro, easily making it home all on his own. His shoe shop was a family owned one he had looked after since his mother’s passing. His father didn’t actively look after it anymore, but Spider took pride in keeping the shop open, even despite the difficulties.

Stepping up to the shop, he reached into his inner coat pocket for the key, but instead found the bank note and the little club symbol. Only then did he realize that a small piece of paper had been put inside the folded bank note. He held it in his hand, feeling over it. Nothing he could read… He would have to ask someone to read the little card to him. Letting himself in, Spider closed down the shop properly, before locking it down.

The small shop was tidy and neat, owing to Spider always wanting to keep it as pristine as he could, as though he were expecting royalty to show up.

The main counter was located on the left to the front door, which was where Spider spent most of his time on these days. It was was long and L-shaped, the walls on either side of the room were covered in shelves, holding shoe boxes of various sizes. The shelves stretched from wall to wall, floor to ceiling. Though Spider had each shelf marked with braille that signified the model and size, he had the layout memorized enough to generally remember where everything was. He likewise had the entirety of the shop’s layout mapped out in his head, able to navigate it quite well. The floor was wooden, shiny and neat and in the very center of the rectangular room was a bench where patrons could sit and try on shoes.

Spider retreated to the apartment above the shop, a quaint, decently sized space that Spider had perfectly mapped out in his head, having lived there all his life. It had belonged to his parents, but these days it was all his. Despite his impaired vision, he could navigate it no problem, usually even without feeling his way around. While Spider wouldn't say he owned a lot of things, his apartment was far from barren. It had furniture, though overall decoration was sparse. He had a few paintings and pictures on the walls, a few plants here and there. Even if he couldn’t truly enjoy their beauty, he at least wanted to have something visually stimulating for whenever he had guests visiting, rare as it was.

Finding his way to the the living room table, Spider found the small square radio he'd purchased a short while ago and turned it on. He knew he'd manage to catch the last couple minutes of the evening broadcasts, if any were on. A soothing piano tune played as Spider made it to the kitchen. Despite what people might assume, he could cook just fine – at least enough to get by. Evenings were always a quiet time for Spider and he did enjoy it. The radio kept him company, though it was mostly just music.

But Spider was perfectly happy with how his life was going. Did a small part of Spider wish he still had his eyesight? Yes, of course. But he’d never once in his life used it as an excuse for anything, nor was it some kind of wish in his heart that kept him up at night. Spider had always made the best of every situation and that was something he knew he’d continue to do for as long as he could.

The next day started and went like most others; Spider woke up, got himself to look as presentable as he could, before he took to going down to the shop. Today was an inside day for Spider, meaning he’d be staying inside the shop.

Soon after Spider had gotten everything settled and taken up his perch behind the counter, the door swung open. The bell caught Spider’s attention, turning towards the door, smiling as he blindly stared in its general direction. “Ah, good morning!”

“And a good morning to you, Spider.” The voice was one he recognized immediately, belonging to his neighbor who occasionally stopped by to help. Today wasn't one of those days, which were usually arranged in advance, but Spider wasn't going to complain about a friendly visit.

“What can I do for you today, Mr. Mason?” Spider asked politely, turning his head in his general direction, listening for his footsteps as he approached. “Do you need a new pair?”

“Oh, no, just wanted to hear if you could shine up some shoes of mine – I need ‘em to look nice for a party this weekend,” the older cat said. Spider hadn’t a clue what he looked like, but he’d been told he was quite a tall, stout older cat – he also could tell as much based on his footsteps at least.

“I can do that no problem,” Spider said eagerly, his tail giving a swish. “Oh, you don’t have to worry about payment, of course, old friend. But maybe you could do me a favor in return.”

“A favor?” the older cat asked in surprise as he moved closer to the counter, placing a pair of shoes on it with a soft thud. Spider could immediately tell what kind of shoes they were, just based on the sound they made; formal, sleek shoes, perfect for a formal gathering. “Of course, what kind of favor?”

Spider reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out the card he’d been handed the day before and held it out. “This – someone handed it to me, but… I can’t read it.”

Part II: Below

As it turned out, the Little Daisy Café wasn't too far from where Spider lived in downtown St. Louis, but the walk there was still something different. He had to ask for directions a few times, but he made it there in the end, taking note of where he walked and when he turned this way and that. The streets were mostly quiet at the moment, though Spider did pass a few people who were on their way home from work.

He'd enjoyed a rather quiet day at work, just mostly left by himself after Mr. Mason left. He’d read off the name Little Daisy Café and its address to Spider, at which point, Spider had been determined to visit. He wasn't sure what was so significant about the café that he would be handed a business card for it, but he supposed he may as well visit. Maybe he could enjoy early dinner there, depending on how long they were open!

The note also had ‘closing time’ written on it, whatever significance that held.

Spider found the front door and gently pushed it open, stepping from the hard, rough, cold stones that paved the streets and onto similarly hard, but far more inviting tiled flooring. The café was nice and warm with a welcoming atmosphere, though it appeared very quiet. Spider remained in the doorway, ears perked up as he blindly glanced around.

Carefully, he stepped forward, though he was uncertain what to do and where to go.

“Oh, do you need help, mister?” A female voice spoke to him and he turned his head towards the direction it had come from. He heard footsteps moving where he was turned towards. “My, what eyes you have…”

“I get that a lot,” Spider told her with a smile, not at all bothered by it. After all, he was used to people commenting on his eyes; they were hard to miss, being as bright blue as they were. Some did find them off-putting, but Spider supposed he couldn’t blame them. He certainly didn’t hold it against them. “Please, if you could just direct me to a table, Ms.”

“Oh, but of course,” she replied as she approached, Spider for the first time noticing the Southern drawl in her voice as she spoke. Not an entirely unfamiliar dialect to him, though if he were asked to, he wouldn’t have been able to place where exactly she may have been from. “You’re showin’ up a little late. I take it you’ll be here till closing time?”

“Closing time?” Spider remembered that phrase being written on the little business card as he was seated in a booth, sinking down onto the soft, cushiony seat. He looked towards the lady who’d guided him there. “Is… closing time special?”

He heard her give a light chuckle. “Well that depends, honey, did my husband invite you?”

Spider hadn't a clue what was going on, but he reached into his pocket and pulled out a the card he’d been given. “Someone gave me this – might’ve been your husband, he didn’t say anything, ma’am.”

He felt her take it from him, hearing her give a soft “Hmmm…” as she looked the card over. “Well, good thing nobody gets here this early. Did my husband give you a…?”

“Oh, right…” Spider didn’t even register that she referred to the time as early as he reached back into his pocket, pulling out the little metallic club pin. It was cold to the touch with a smooth body. “This one, right?”

“Ah yes one of those, dear.” Spider could hear the smile in her voice as she handed the card back to him. “Come along, I’ll show you the way down.”

Down? Spider hadn’t a clue what that meant exactly, but he supposed he would find out. Spider pocketed the card and put his hands on the smooth, cold table and moved out of the booth and reached a hand out, gently taking a hold of her slender arm. “Thank you. What do I call you, ma’am?”

“Oh, my name is Mitzi May, darlin’. How about you?” she asked politely as she guided him along. It was a new space and environment for Spider, one he hadn't gotten a chance to map out in his head, but he carefully followed Mrs. May as she guided him along. When he was guided behind the counter, his hand gently touched the counter itself, at least giving him an idea of where he was. “Right this way… in the pantry.”

“The-… The pantry?” Spider was officially confused, but once he heard their footsteps echoing off the walls nearby, he knew they were in said pantry. It was subtle, but he could tell the difference. “Uhm, now what, Mrs. May?”

“Just hang tight, honey, this’ll only take a second… Now where’s that knife?” Initially startled by her words, Spider took a small step backwards. Mrs. May seemed to have noticed the look on his face as she quickly added, “Oh, not like that – I just need it to unlock the door.”

The door? The pantry had a door inside it? Or had she locked them in? Spider was still cautious and certainly very confused. He heard her moving around nearby, before he heard a surprisingly firm, mechanical click. He felt movement in the air, a slight wind blown towards him before a strange smell met his nostrils. He sniffed, trying to identify it.

“Oh, you get used to it, honey. Now, here, I’ll guide you down. Just watch- ehm… Just be careful,” she told him, taking a hold of his hand and guiding him forward. “The steps lead down here. You can hold onto the wall while I close the door, if you need to. What was your name again?”

“Oh, right. I’m Charles Spider, but you can just call me Spider, ma’am.” Spider moved down onto the top steps tentatively, before taking a hold of the cold cave wall with his free hand. He could feel the somewhat rugged, hard stone against his hand. He let Mrs. May close the door, before she resumed guiding him along. He hadn't a clue where they were going or why. “What kind of place is this exactly? I didn’t know cafés had basements like this…”

“Well, ours is a special one – and you must be special too, if Atlas decided to personally invite you down, Spider,” Mrs. May replied politely. “No need to be alarmed, I think you’ll like it. We’ll be opening in a few hours.”

Spider thought that was a curiously short window to stay closed, but he supposed perhaps this was an underground shaft to another building. He had heard something about St. Louis being built on top of tunnels and caves… at least he thought he might have heard something similar…

The staircase seemed to stretch on for quite a while, Spider having lost count of how many steps they’d taken down already. The space around him wasn’t too wide, though thankfully he could at least walk upright without fear of bumping his head. His hand traveled over the rocky surface of the wall, though thankfully he didn’t encounter points that were too sharp. It did allow him to get a feel for his environment, even in this more limited capacity.

When they stepped onto flat ground again, Spider tried to recall how long they’d been walking. It couldn’t have been that long, at least it certainly didn’t feel that way. He turned his head from side to side as if looking around. “Where are we, Mrs. May?”

“Oh, we’re not quite there yet. Wait here,” she responded before letting go of his hand. She moved forward away from Spider, who waited curiously, hearing a small click before the slightest creak of a wooden door being swung open. Warmth poured out and it was certainly far more inviting than the atmosphere out in the tunnel. “Right this way.”

She took a hold of Spider’s arm and guided him inside, his feet soon stepping onto carpeted flooring of all things. Very curious… He was endlessly intrigued by whatever place this was. As Mrs. May guided him, Spider just followed quietly. He could tell they were in a much bigger room; echoes didn’t bounce off the walls as quickly as they had out in the tunnel.

“Wait, is this-… Is this a speakeasy?” he asked in a hushed voice, looking fearful.

“Oh, but honey, I thought that was obvious.” Mrs. May’s tone was a playfully surprised one, before she gave a soft chuckle. “Oh, what you must have thought of what I said up in the pantry… I think I’d best go fetch my husband. Wait here.”

with Mrs. May’s help, Spider sank down onto a round stool, hands touching a cold, smooth wooden counter. He heard Mrs. May leaving, meaning he was left all by his lonesome in a strange, new location. He'd known speakeasies were underground operations, but he’d never quite thought it to be quite this literal. Was he a criminal now? Would he get charged for even setting foot in one? Was Mrs. May a criminal? She had to be, right? She worked here… didn’t she?

Feeling anxious, Spider got to his feet and set about exploring the space. He stuck to the walls first, letting his hand wander along it. He started by the bar, tracing along the counter and the stools, sticking to the outside, before making it to a small lounge area where he bumped into chairs and tables gently. Using his hands, he left the wall to feel them up, to attempt to map them out in his head and get an impression of what they might look like.

It turned out to be a far bigger space than Spider had initially assumed as he followed the wall all the way around. The only true obstacle he found was the presence of what he recognized as a stage. He ran his hand over the wooden plans as he walked along the rounded shape of it. He supposed even illicit drinking establishments needed entertainment…

Spider circled all the way around, past other tables and chairs and something else he didn’t recognize, before making it back to the door he’d come from. At least he assumed that it was the one he’d entered through. He could tell it was a large, wide, wooden door, very finely made. Spider had barely walked forward to the center of the room when he heard the door sliding open.

“Don’t worry, it’s just us – I fetched my husband, Spider.” It was the familiar voice of Mrs. May speaking, immediately putting Spider at ease as he blindly stared in the general direction that her voice had come from. “So, dear, what are we thinking? Do we have room for one more, darling?”

Part III: Resonance

Working in a speakeasy was… Well, Spider couldn’t exactly say it was something he’d been envisioning himself ever doing, but with Mr. and Mrs. May so graciously offering him a job, who was he to refuse? Granted, Spider also had a feeling that he’d heard enough to be considered a liability if he said no, and they let him leave. Perhaps staying on was the best option, even if the idea of working for an illegal place was a bit scary to him.

But Mr. May had apparently seen it as suitable to hire him, because he had an honest face and he was a hard worker. Spider wasn't sure he'd go so far as to describe himself in such a way, but it felt nice knowing he'd left such a positive impression on Mr. May. Atlas May wasn't a man who spoke much, but Spider felt a strangely reassuring presence in his company, which was only amplified when his wife was around as well.

Sure, being hired to clean and shine up the tables and the like wasn't the most prestigious job in the world, nor was it a full-time arrangement, but Spider was perfectly content with it. He’d show up around the time the Little Daisy closed up shop, come down and help keep things orderly. The bar counter, the tables and the grand piano up on stage all needed cleaning.

It had taken Spider a few days, but he was finally memorizing not only the way to the café, but also the layout of it and the speakeasy below. The speakeasy had taken the longest to get used to, owing to how big and expansive it was. Spider had accidentally collided with the tall stone pillars it had a few times when trying to map it out.

But now on a Friday noon, Spider was starting to navigate the space with much less effort. He had even learned to find his way backstage and up onto the stage by himself. It had taken some time to get used to the stage layout too, but thankfully he hadn’t fallen off it.

Spider hummed pleasantly to himself as he cleaned up the grand piano, starting with polishing the legs, the keys and the body itself, feeling his wet cloth smoothly gliding over the smooth, cold surface, taking care of any and all dust that may have accumulated there in the course of the week. Later on, he knew he’d even be shining shoes for patrons as well, potentially.

While Spider cleaned, his ear gave a twitch as he heard quiet footsteps from behind him, making the well-built stage creak ever so slightly. “Oh, don’t worry, I’ll be done soon. It’ll only be a moment.”

The stranger said nothing to this, but Spider noticed that they’d stopped moving. He curiously turned his head towards them, fixing them with his blind, bright-eyed stare. He heard a small kind of shuffle, which he recognized to be a recoil from being startled by his eyes. He just offered a small smile.

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” Spider said politely, averting his gaze to look away. He didn’t mind, of course; if anything, Spider only felt bad for startling the stranger.

“What? Oh, no, no, don’t worry, I-… You’re new here, aren’t you?” the stranger asked. He had a calm sort of voice, though his tone was hesitant, as if he were still trying to get a read on Spider.

“Yes, I haven't even been here a week. I’m just shining up the piano for the pianist – I hear the band will playing tonight,” Spider replied happily as he started working on cleaning the lid of the piano, turning his head back towards the stranger as they slowly approached. Though he didn’t look towards the piano, he still kept wiping down the big instrument. “My name’s Charles, but just call me Spider.”

“Spider? That’s an interesting nickname… I’m Mozzie – Mozzie Alonzo, but just call me Mozzie… Hmmm…” Spider’s ear perked up a bit at the rather disappointed way Mozzie had trailed off. He just stared in his general direction.

“What? Oh, were you trying to shake my hand?” Spider quickly put the cloth back into the bucket he’d brought up on stage and walked towards where Mozzie's voice had come from. He held out his own hand, but accidentally poked him in the torso. “Whoops, sorry… Let’s try this again, shall we?”

“Oh, you’re- I’m sorry, Spider, I didn’t realize…” Spider felt Mozzie's hand taking a hold of his as a gentle breeze tickled his face. The blind cat chuckled. “Oh, sorry, did you feel that?”

“I did, yes,” Spider told him with a nod. It wasn't the first time someone had waved their hand in front of Spider’s face to test if he truly were blind.

“Oh… uhm… Sorry, that was really rude of me. So, what do you do around here? Are you our piano shiner?” Mozzie asked him, his tone friendly, though perhaps overly polite. Spider didn’t mind, he knew it came from a good place – he could tell the other cat was feeling bad about what he did, so he appreciated his attempts at friendliness.

Spider nodded as he moved back to resume cleaning, knowing exactly where he’d left off. The lid of the piano was on its way to being as sparkly clean as the rest of it. “Well, I also clean the tables and such. And shine people’s shoes.”

“Oh, I didn’t realize Mr. May had hired someone new. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Spider. I hope you’ll be here later – the boys and I are going on stage tonight.” Mozzie's tone sounded a bit more natural, but still very pleasant. “I play the piano, so that's why I came up to see- Well, to check on it.”

“Oh, could you play me something, please?” Spider asked eagerly once he was done cleaning. He put the cloth back into the bucket and looked expectantly in Mozzie's direction.

“Of course, any requests?” Spider wasn't entirely sure Mozzie would've been so eager to play for him if it hadn't been for the less than ideal first introduction. But he wasn't complaining, he was glad the pianist was willing to play for him, regardless.

“Surprise me,” Spider replied, smiling brightly as he followed Mozzie with his blind stare, listening for his movements as he moved towards the piano to sit on the stool. Mozzie took a moment before he started playing a pleasant, upbeat, jazzy tune. As he played, Spider stood by, nodding his head in time to the music, his unseeing eyes staring in Mozzie's general direction.

Spider didn’t know what the song was called, but he liked it, his tail even swaying ever so slightly in time to the music. Though he couldn’t see Mozzie's fingers moving, Spider could picture it in his head. He remembered seeing pianists playing back when he was younger – when he still had his vision. He could picture how Mozzie's fingers might be moving, back and forth, pressing keys in perfect resonance to create harmonies, chords and melody.

“That was beautiful,” Spider almost gasped when the song came to an end. He heard Mozzie chuckling lightly before he got up.

“Thank you, I’ve been playing the piano since I was a little kid,” he told Spider once he was standing again. “Well, how about we get off the stage? The boys should be getting here soon. You will be here when we play, right?”

Oh, Spider was indeed there when they played. Though he didn’t have many shoes to shine that night, he was still perfectly pleased being there. Lackadaisy apparently held quite a few guests and the place felt crowded. Moving to and fro, Spider had to stick to the edges of the room, using his hand on the wall as a guide. Luckily a few friendly patrons did help him out now and again.

Spider had been seated for the past hour near the stage, unknowingly able to look right at Mozzie as he played the piano.

He hadn't yet met the rest of the band, but he could hear their instruments in perfect time and sync; sax, trumpet, bass, trombone. Spider could feel vibrations from both the music and the movements of people on the dance floor, yet the high piano keys somehow managed to cut right through the rest of the sounds in the speakeasy.

Not long after the band got their last applause and walked off stage, Spider heard a familiar voice near him. “Hi there, Spider. Did you like our playing?”

“I did!” he said excitedly, once more looking in Mozzie's general direction as the people on the dance floor dispersed, likely to go off and get something to drink. “You guys are really good. Have you been playing together for long?”

“Yeah, for a number of years by now,” Mozzie answered. He paused for a moment before clearing his throat. “Would you like to get something to drink? I can go get you something, if you’d like.”

“Oh that’s alright, just help me get up to the bar, please – we can sit together, if you’d like.” Spider rose to his feet and reached forward at which point he felt Mozzie’s arm being offered to him. Spider took a hold of the soft, smooth fabric of his dress shirt and let the pianist guide the way. They weaved in and out past people and tables. It wasn't a long walk to the bar, Spider sitting down on the soft stool with Mozzie joining him on his right side.

“What would you like?” Spider thought about Mozzie's question. He wasn't very well-versed in the world of illicit drinks. He heard Mozzie chuckle a bit. “Ah, first time? Maybe we should settle for something light then. How’s that sound, Spider?”

“Yeah that works for me,” he replied, giving a nod, before turning towards the bar as Mozzie ordered. While he couldn’t see, he still focused on the bartender as they set about making drinks. Even in the crowded speakeasy, Spider could hear them working, making drinks for him and Mozzie; he heard pouring, rattling, shaking and stirring. He hadn't the faintest clue how drinks like this were made, but he was all the more curious about trying them.

“Ah, here.” Spider felt Mozzie take a hold of his hand and gently guide it towards his glass, and he soon felt the cold, smooth glass against his finger tips. He raised it to his face and gave it a sniff. It smelled sweet, fruity with a hint of something he didn’t know, though Spider guessed that was the alcohol. “Well, cheers, Spider.”

Spider smiled at Mozzie and took a testing sip of his drink. It had a sweet flavor to match its scent and it was quite pleasant. Spider took a second sip, a bigger one, and felt a slight burn in the back of his throat, though it subsided quickly. “Oh that’s really good… I like it!”

“So, how’d you even end up down here?” Mozzie asked politely after a moment of silence. “I assume you didn’t just stumble down here on accident, eh?”

“Oh no, Mr. May came to me when I was out shining shoes. He gave me a pin and a card,” Spider explained rather proudly, before taking another sip of his drink. It tasted so sweet, he wanted to just down the whole thing in one go…

“Easy there. Best pace yourself a little – we don’t want you to get hit too hard.” Mozzie chuckled lightly, patting Spider’s shoulder. “Well, that does sound about right – he’s got a talent for collecting strays. So you’re a shoe shiner?”

“Hmmm? Oh, not really – it’s something I just do sometimes when I want to work outside.” Spider had noticed the skeptical tone in Mozzie's question, but he didn’t mind. “I own a shoe shop in town. I just sometimes do shining as a side business.”

“Really? You run it all by yourself?” Mozzie sounded quite surprised. He cleared his throat. “I mean… Not that I wouldn’t think you could, but…”

Spider waved his hand dismissively, chuckling. “Oh, don’t you worry, I understand. It’s hard to imagine, but I make do. I just have to be a bit more careful than most other shop keepers. It belonged to my family, but now it’s just me working there. I know my way around and I enjoy it. People are always so nice when they visit.”

“I see… Well, that’s good,” Mozzie said with a smile before he took a brief pause to take a sip from his own drink. “Well, it’s good to have more friendly faces here. Lackadaisy does tend to feel a bit like family. I’m sure you’ll fit in, I certainly think you’re rather pleasant, Spider.”

Beaming at Mozzie, Spider gave a light chuckle, before he finished the rest of his drink. “I hope so too. I like my job, but it’s certainly more lively down here, even if I can’t see it.”

“Oh, right… I’m sorry about that…”

“No, it’s fine, honestly. I get by and I can still hear what’s going on,” Spider explained, sounding perfectly happy as he turned back towards Mozzie, blind eyes fixated on him. “Oh, Mozzie?”

“Hmmm? Yes, Spider?”

“Can I see your face?” The silence that followed told Spider that Mozzie hadn't the faintest clue what he meant.

“See- I mean, I suppose you can…” the pianist replied hesitantly, sounding very confused. He hesitated for a moment before he asked, “How does that work exactly…?”

“Just lean closer, please.” The words had barely left Spider’s lips before he reached his hands up to cup Mozzie’s cheeks with his hands. He felt the other cat’s soft, smooth, almost silky fur against his palms and his fingers. He gently ran his hands and fingers along Mozzie’s face, tracing the shape of it, feeling his fur brushing against his pads. He brushed his forehead, ran his fingers over his brow, his nose, cheeks and his chin. Spider could feel Mozzie's face being quite warm as he gently caressed his eyelids, before brushing his whiskers and let go.

“Ah, thank you, Mozzie. I think you’re very handsome,” Spider said, garnering him more another stunned silence from the other cat.

“I- oh… Thank you…” Mozzie said, sounding incredibly flustered. He cleared his throat. “I didn’t realize you could see me like that…”

“It’s not the same, of course, but it’s the best I can do,” Spider explained, chuckling. His smile faltered a bit when he remembered how warm Mozzie's cheeks had felt. “I didn’t make you uncomfortable, did I?”

“No, not at all – I just wasn’t prepared,” Mozzie replied in that same flustered tone. “But I’m glad you can see me somewhat at least. Say, the boys and I are probably going to stay backstage for the night, would you like to join us? We usually play cards and such-”

“I can’t really play cards, Mozzie…” Mozzie seemed to realize that he’d said something stupid as he immediately set about stuttering an apology to Spider. Spider just chuckled and shook his head. “No, it’s fine, I appreciate the invitation. But in any case, I’m afraid I can’t stay too much longer – I need to get up early tomorrow.”

“Ah… that’s a shame,” Mozzie said, sounding disappointed. “Is it far? Please, at least allow me to walk you home. Wouldn't feel right to just let you wander the street all alone.”

“You’d really do that?” Spider asked in surprise, his ears perking up as he smiled in Mozzie's direction again. “I’d appreciate that a lot – I’m still learning the way to and from this place.”

“Oh, before we go…” Spider heard Mozzie fumbling with something before placing something onto the counter between them. “There that’s for our drinks, let’s get going, Spider. You can… hold onto my arm, if you’d like.”

Mozzie barely even had to offer his arm before Spider took a hold of it and walked out with the pianist to retrieve their jackets. It wasn’t too cold outside these days, luckily, but it was better to be safe than sorry. Spider held onto Mozzie's arm again once they both wore their jackets, Mozzie's thick and warm, much like Spider’s own.

Holding onto Mozzie, Spider left the noisy speakeasy and entered the surprisingly quiet tunnels beyond the door. It did a surprisingly good job at blocking out the noise. “Ah that’s better… Is it usually that loud in there?”

“Oh, it usually is,” Mozzie explained as he guided Spider up along the steps. “Careful. One step at a time. You get used to it, though. You just happened to sit right by the stage. That’s where the crowds congregate.”

“That makes sense,” Spider chuckled, smiling. The ascend up the stairs was always brief, but it felt particularly brief tonight. The two of them entered the dark, vacant café together and Spider followed Mozzie's lead till they stepped out onto the empty street together. The air was mostly still tonight, though a single stray breeze did greet the two, gracing their faces, much like Spider had Mozzie's minutes ago.

“So, shall we, Mr. Spider?” Mozzie asked in a playfully polite tone, letting Spider grab hold of his arm yet again.

“So we shall, Mr. Alonzo,” Spider replied, chuckling as he held the other cat’s arm a little more firmly than before. The two of them set off, walking down the street side by side in the relative darkness that only broken up by the streetlights that illuminated small patches of the sidewalk. Though Spider couldn’t see them, he remembered streetlights to be quite a beautiful sight, the way they kept the streets illuminated.

Neither of them said much as they walked together, Spider mostly just telling Mozzie what streets to take and when to turn. It was a quiet, peaceful walk. The only sound breaking up the silence of the night was their footsteps on the sidewalk and their breathing. It truly did feel like it was just the two of them in the darkened street, even when other people occasionally passed them. But before long, the walk came to an end as they arrived at their destination.

“This is it?” Mozzie asked politely as he stopped by the storefront. “It’s a nice-looking little place. I’m surprised I’ve never been here before.”

“Oh, you haven't? Are you sure?” Spider asked in surprise as he unlocked the door, having to feel for the keyhole.

Mozzie chuckled lightly from behind him. “Trust me, Spider, I would never forget a face like yours.”

“Oh… In a good kind of way...?”

“In a very good kind of way,” Mozzie replied, making Spider grin back at him, bright blue eyes practically sparkling in the dim light of the street. Mozzie chuckled again. “Well, you have a good night, Spider. I hope to see you around soon. Will you be there tomorrow?”

“I will, yes. I’ll make sure to be easy to find,” he promised Mozzie, smiling. Spider opened the door to his shop, but lingered in the doorway a moment. He’d heard Mozzie make a strange little noise just then. “What was that?”

“What? Oh, nothing, it’s nothing,” the pianist hastily replied. He cleared his throat. “Just... have a good night – and sleep well – it was a true pleasure meeting you – I’ll introduce you to my buds soon.”

“Oh, alright. Well, you too, Mozzie. You have a good night – and have fun down there,” Spider said, winking at him, before finally sliding the door closed and locking it. Making his way upstairs in the dark shop, Spider never realized that down below, Mozzie lingered by the storefront for a moment.

He’d watched Spider leaving, waving around the interior of the dark shop with precision and ease that rivaled any man with eyesight. He stood by himself for a moment, just considering the bright-eyed stranger. He smiled and finally turned away from the shop and headed back the way he’d come, hands on his pocket. His arm felt strangely cold, but his cheeks felt so, so warm.

[skylarmoon71]

Castiel (Supernatural/Grimm) - Short Story -Extra 2

Castiel has so many cute sides.

But what is most endearing is probably the way he looks at you sometimes when you’d kiss him suddenly. His eyes would gleam in a way that almost glowed. His lips would form a small smile and his cheeks would become a delicate flush, brows furrowed in curiosity and anticipation.

“Can I have another?”

You often found yourself gushing when he made the request. He was just too sweet. So of course you were obligated to fulfill his request and give him another little kiss to satisfy him.

Days on the job were funny. 

You get to see Castiel somewhat in an element that he’s familiar with. He’d told you he worked a number of cases with Dean back home. It’s a bit funny because Castiel’s serious persona worked great for some of the more tricky cases. His blunt way of questioning suspects made it easy to spot lies. 

Like today.

“Where were you last night Mr. Adona?”

The man shifted in his spot at the glare Castiel had directed right at him.

“I-I was just at home having a beer.”

“You’re lying.”

Adona stiffened in his seat and Castiel’s eyes were still narrowed, as if trying to intimidate the truth right out of him.

“F-Fine! I killed him okay! The bastard basically stole my wife and kid! What was I supposed to do?”

“You’ve been separated from your wife for three years and she wasn’t romantically involved with John Kleff. He was her therapist. She was trying to work through losing her home after you gambled away most of your money. You killed an innocent man because you were a jealous gambling drunk.”

You could tell that your words had struck him. The pain on his face was something he deserved. You never liked cases like these. Wrong place at the wrong time.

You slid the pad across the desk.

“Write it all down.”

He nodded, lowering his head in shame as he grabbed the pen.

It was tough, those situations where there were no real winners. Stepping out of the interrogation, you took the confession as some other officers grabbed him to be processed. Castiel was at your side, matching stride. It took maybe twenty minutes to get it all done. The second you were done with the paperwork, you dropped the stack on your desk. Castiel walked in and when you saw the small pack of marshmallows in his hand you smiled. He handed it to you, and you took it graciously. He sat down.

“I know it can be difficult, but I am always here if you need me.”

You appreciate that more than he realizes. For a while you’ve been without a partner and for longer you’ve been somewhat alone. Relationships were tough. It was hard to know who to trust, more so because of what you could see. Dragging someone into this without fully knowing what you were capable of, it always felt like a sort of deceit.

That’s why love was a bit out of your reach. It was also why Diana had been so adamant on helping you. Diana has always been perceptive, and you knew that under all the jokes and tricks, she must have realized just how lonely you were, how much it hurt to see other people have what you couldn’t. You’re forever grateful, she never lets you forget it either.

“You seem happier.”

You nod, leaning back in your seat.

“I’m very happy, you’re here after all.” You smiled at him and he returned it, shyly looking away.

“Thank you.”

You nod, giggling.

Another thing you absolutely loved is his bashful nature.

You’re very lucky.

The day seems to drag on, by the time your shift ends, you’re ready to just dive into Castiel’s arms. You thought you were the only one eager, but the second you both had made it outside he’d pretty much teleported you to his home. You staggered and he caught you.

You looked at him with a laugh.

“Castiel, we left my car at the precinct.”

He seemed to register that.

“My apologies.”

You just shook your head, giving him a kiss on the cheek.

“Let’s shower and pop in a movie.”

He was ready for that.

A nice soak in the bath together and some wrestling later and you were tucked on your couch under his arm enjoying the film.

“Oh, I almost forgot I have to stop by the spice shop tomorrow.”

Castiel hummed in response, fingers stroking your arm.

“You smell like lavender.” 

He tucked his head into your neck, inhaling softly and this time you were the one blushing. You had indeed changed your body wash but you didn’t think it was enough for him to tell the difference.

“Yeah, I changed it recently. Is it good? If the scent is too strong I can get another one.”

He started planting kisses along your skin and it became very obvious that the scent was indeed something he appreciated. His hand cupped your right breast and you nibbled on your lower lip. You could clearly see where the night was heading.

Some very strenuous activity a few hours later and you were off to the spice shop the following morning. Diana had texted you about grabbing a cup of coffee on the way for her. No doubt she was messing around there asking Rosalee about medicinal cures and such. She loved that stuff. It’s obvious why.

The second you entered she practically grabbed the drink.

“Wow, you’re welcome (Y/N), I really appreciate you going out of your way to get me that drink.”

Castiel’s brows furrow.

“Why are you speaking in the third person?”

His confused expression just made you and Diana laugh. She placed the cup down with a sarcastic bow and you rolled your eyes, glancing at the book she opened.

“What are you reading?”

She flipped the page.

“It’s a potion that protects you from the pheromones of Ziegevolk. Last week one of the triplets apparently got hit with some. Figured it could come in handy since you and Kelly are the only ones that are practically immune.” You smile.

“Someone sounds jealous.”

“You wish.”

She was smiling as she took another sip of your drink as you waited for Rosalee to get in from the back. You usually came by on your days off to help with the stock. When you turned, Castiel was already lifting a few boxes. He already knows the drill. You smile.

“Castiel, have I told you how good your butt looks when you’re lifting heavy items.”

The familiar flush returned to his cheeks.

“I don’t believe you have.”

His responses were also very entertaining. He placed the boxes down in their designated space, shuffling back to grab the next stack, still wearing a slight blush.

“You guys are so lovey dovey it’s almost sickening.” Diana complained.

“Just remember it’s all because of you.”

“Oh trust me, I’ll never forget.”

You were ready for the list of items she would request for setting you up with Castiel, but she straightened in her seat, looking over at the door, then to the side. When she stood it became apparent something was going on. You recognize that look.

“Diana, what’s wrong?”

The subtle amethyst glow ignited around her irises, her eyes looking around as if searching.

“Something is coming..”

You did not like the sound of that. 

Castiel paused, dropping his boxes.

“She is right.”

Castiel's eyes were now shining as well, the blue light very familiar. His angel blade slid right out of his sleeve, gripping the handle as he prepared.

Rosalee walked in that very moment and you drew your gun, just in case.

“Is something wrong?” Rosalee asked, concerned.

“I’m not sure…”

Diana sounds distracted, and you’re waiting for it, whatever it is. What you don’t expect is the sound of wings. Similar to what Castiel’s sounds like when he just vanishes. You all seem to turn at the male now standing in the room and Castiel relaxes.

“Michael.”

He places his blade away, so you take it as a sign that this person isn’t a threat. The light has left Diana's eyes as well.

“I apologize for my sudden appearance. Jack informed me that you had left our world. I was concerned so I came to..”

The way his words lagged at the end was confusing. He looked like he was staring at something. You followed his gaze, and it landed right on Diana who’s wearing a similarly dazed expression. Michael stepped towards her and she had yet to move, her lips were parted as if she couldn’t believe what she was seeing.

“You have wings..”

Her words didn’t make sense.

“Wings, what wings?” You asked. She looked back at you.

“Y-You can’t see them, they’re right there.” She pointed, but you still couldn’t make them out. Michael stopped when he was directly in front of her.

“You are very beautiful..” Michael spoke wistfully.

She giggled in a very un-Diana way, tucking a lock of her hair behind her ear. She was smiling and you could have been wrong, but you could have sworn she was blushing.

“What the..”

You were still trying to figure out what was going on.

Castiel slid over to your side.

“I believe my brother might be interested in courting your sister.” He whispered next to you. Even if he’d shouted it, it was clear that neither of them would hear. Rosalee looked excited at the little love connection.

“Brother, you came to speak with me.”

Michael blinked, as if remembering. He turned to Castiel.

“Yes I..I just wanted to ensure that you were…you were..”

He was having a hard time finding his train of thought, his gaze moving back to Diana who was smiling way too widely.

“Is this how we were when we first met?”

You couldn’t imagine acting so foolishly lovestruck.

“Definitely.” Diana responded without breaking eye contact from Michael.

“Since you’re here, maybe I can show you around our universe. That is if you have time to spare.” She batted her eyes and he nodded eagerly.

“Yes, I would like that very much. “

She smiled, holding out her hand.

“I’m Diana, it’s nice to meet you Michael.”

“You as well.”

He still seemed very much in a daze and Diana sent a wink in your direction.

You were starting to notice a pattern.

It’s clear that your bloodline was attracted to all things angel.

~Nick and Adalind’s House~

“Dad!!! I got a boyfriend!!”

Diana’s call was like a siren and Nick broke the corner with his gun drawn. Michael looked a bit confused.

“What do you mean boyfriend!! Were you hiding him all this time like your sister!?!”

You casually strolled into the room with Castiel and Adalind walked out of the kitchen with an apron around her waist.

“Why is your first response to us having partners so aggressive and why do you have your gun drawn!”

He shrugged.

“Just making sure she was safe.”

“She said boyfriend, not a serial killer Dad!!”

“I don’t see the difference.” He muttered.

Castiel rolled over to Michael’s side.

“You have nothing to worry about, this is a normal greeting in traditional human customs.”

You facepalm.

“Castiel, it really isn’t. My dad is just a psycho and very overprotective.”

Michael tilts his head, taking a step forward.

“I assure you no harm will come to your daughter while she’s in my care. If anyone were to hurt her I would rip their souls right out of their body and scatter the pieces to the edges of the earth.”

Your expression just went blank. Diana was grinning and Adalind looked a bit concerned.

“Another angel huh, guess I can make an exception.”

Nick holds out his hand.

“Welcome to the family.”

“DAD!!”

Your family needs serious help. 

[scratchandplaster]

Stack The Deck - Wellness check

CW: stalking, obsessive behavior, intimidation, Morris hating on bald people

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

CF3 46E, CF3 46E, CF3 46E...

Morris needed to find that car again, right now, before the trace got cold and slipped through his fingers like sand. Frantically shoving the clothes he had borrowed back into the boxes, he was unsure about how to act next. Go back to the apartment and hope for the mother to come back again? Maybe drive around the city and look for the familiar code of the license plate, that too would travel to a new home.

Upstate... Nothing more than forests and rivers there, and to do what exactly? Live in a log cabin and siphon off tree sap till his parents grew old?

CF3 46E

Morris couldn't let that happen, staying back and remaining nothing more than a ghost story Elliot could tell his family: the tale of the pathetic fuck that didn't realize he had everything right under his nose until-

A forceful knock on the door ripped him from his thoughts.

CF3 46B

He didn't expect company, much less had the nerve for it right now. Everyone could go to hell for all he cared. With one exception, of course.

CF-

The booming against the wood became more vigorous; impatient rhythms meeting quickly thinning patience.

"Miss Roberts, I don't know where your cats are, I'm not stealing them. We've been over this."

No grace in sight, just more assault on Morris' poor ears, like the noises all throughout his head: crying, screaming, rough bristles against tile. The sting of apple-fresh bleach still burned at the back of his sinuses, even after weeks of mind-numbing distraction.

I need to explain everything, and he will accept my apology, and we can finally start over-

Before another hit could let the hinges vibrate with force, the door swung open to reveal a bright red face of anger to the unwelcomed guest.

"I SAID-" Morris growled, and stopped when he recognized the utterly unimpressed man. One he really didn't want to deal with right now.

"Belanger, for fuck's sake, now is not the time-"

"You don't answer my calls." Because I'm tired of being your postie.

"I'm busy, and you give me a job like what, once a week? Of course I'll keep myself occupied otherwise."

Caught in a gloomy expression, no man dared to back down so quickly. 

"You need to answer when I call."

Biting his tongue, the only thing Morris could retort was an annoyed huff; he knew about the duty towards his employer. It was nothing he could just push along as he pleased, but the information he'd worked hard for wasn't worth being thrown out so suddenly. The window he had created for himself was quickly shutting down. 

"So you are busy and under-worked at the moment? Doesn't sound convincing..." Belanger's lusterless fish eyes kept focus on the target of his worry, even as he pressed himself past the door frame. 

Remaining face-to-face with the always discreetly clothed partner, one could only wonder why a few missed job opportunities would rub him the wrong way. Thinking of it, Morris guessed that he would be just as sensitive, provided he'd also lose all his hair minutes after turning thirty. On angry nights, he often asked himself if he could take on Mr. Clean's dipshit cousin.

"Please, make yourself at home," Morris sighed, not sure how well-thought-out it had been to let the mass of a man into his quarters.

The tired proxy carefully eyed the mess littered throughout the room; photos, piano booklets and obviously strange clothing only affirmed what he had already suspected:

"Are you getting distracted again?"

Yes, actually, by the nagging little middleman he was supposed to stand by for.

That exact man painfully remembered the last one that stole Morris' focus: some bony princess from new money; he caught him scrolling through an ocean of pictures when they should have been occupied with handling the daily charge. Belanger wasn't ready to put up with this whole act once again, not so soon. The only thing worse than the fawning, and god did he hate that, will be the moment it all inevitably crashes and burns to the ground. The phase where Morris got especially difficult to handle...

"What is it this time? I'll see if I can make some space for you," he answered instead, paying no mind to Belanger's interrogation.

"You better do that quickly, Dutch wants to see you."

Shit. He really should have taken that call.

"Now?" Morris desperately tried to squeeze his voice past the lump blocking his throat. It was better to know when he would be led to slaughter, saves a lot of time on scheduling.

"Don't piss yourself yet, he was impressed with whatever you did back at the den," the proxy said, letting his monotone drawl hide how much he enjoyed seeing him all antsy, "Fucking massacre, if you ask me, though." 

"I cleaned up after, if you need it..."

"At least you got that right. Congrats, I guess, nobody found the body yet." Yeah, me neither.

"Wasn't that bad, just so you know, uh-"

"I would stay in line if I were you, with the cops still on my ass and all," Belanger let his voice drop low, having neither interest nor patience for cheap horror stories, "Let's go!"

Morris was close, so much closer than the last few weeks. There had to be another way, one that didn't involve Dutch, of all people.

"Listen, I'll call you back soon and-"

"Wasn't a question, Morris."

He thought of Elliot and the festering itch that burned up when remembering these hazel eyes, looking up at him just one more time... I forgive you. God, he would give everything to hear these words.

He thought of Dutch, and his bad knee let a cautionary twitch rock his body.

So Morris budged. Some people you can't let wait.

CS3 46B would still be there for him, a few miles further northwest, more or less. It wouldn't take that long, right? He could let the itch heal down and hope the lingering antipathy would fade away, give them all some time to breathe. A fear started to nest deep already, hidden behind Morris' own self-preservation: the silent terror that Elliot wouldn't stop to look out for him.

Belanger would, though, keeping Morris on track until their boss was satisfied.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Thanks for reading 🤍 [Masterlist]

Taglist: @whatwasmyprevioususername, @canislycaon24

[hauntedjpegcollection]

first kiss

wc: 6567 au: valorant au ch: benji, xavier

Xavier’s the last one in the bathroom. He tolerates teasing from his friends, hip cocked against the sink, tooth brush in his mouth.

“Two minunesh,” he says, with his fingers raised, foamy toothpaste on the corners of his upturned lips. That was the time dentists recommended to reduce cavities. And Xavier would do just about anything to avoid another root canal. Not because it had hurt—which it had—but because of the conversation he and Tess had overhead the next day. Crouched on the landing, parents at the dining room table, pouring over bills.

Fifteen years old, Xavier was only just now realizing that things cost money. He’d known, in that sort of way kids knew money existed and that their parents worked to get it, but now he really knew. Xavier had held an ice pack to his cheek, Tess’ arm around his shoulder, while his parents talked about just precisely how much money his tooth had been worth. His mother had done doubles for a week to pay for that root canal. He would brush his teeth for two minutes if that meant she didn’t do that again.

Video games play loudly down the hall, some violent little shooter that his friends were currently obsessed with. David and Mark are equally as noisy; brash and young and on the wrestling team, just like Xavier. They were bitter at him for sprouting inches over the summer. He was bitter about how much his joints hurt, the growing pains stretching and pulling around him. He’s awkward in his own body now, gangly when his prior height had been perfectly fine. Everyone looks up at him now. His jeans are too short on his ankles. He’d had to size up twice for the annual sweatshirts they were given for the wrestling team.

Xavier leans over the sink, spitting toothpaste into the ceramic bowl. He washes his toothbrush and tucks it back into his overnight bag. When he straightens, David’s sister is staring at him.

He’s been a friend of the Thompson’s family since he was five years old. Their mothers had a book club together. They met on Tuesdays and drank wine in the living room and giggled loudly, stuffed together on a couch. Their fathers grilled during the summer and complained about politics (whatever president was currently in office, Xavier found that his dad hated him fiercely). He and David were in little league together. They’d joined wrestling as a unit because where Xavier was getting taller every single year, David was getting wider. He looked like his father, broad and intimidating. Sometimes people called Xavier and David, Stick and Rock, which secretly hurt both their feelings and they secretly kept that to themselves.

The same summer that David and Xavier turned fifteen, Rose had turned thirteen. And before, she’d been shy and nervous and kept to her room when boys ransacked the house, looking for snacks and entertainment. She kept out of the way most of the time, but Xavier—who was raised Catholic and by an ER nurse and an HVAC technician—was always polite. He said hello to her in passing, he used her name instead of the endless nicknames David had for her. When he was over for dinner, he sat on her right and passed her the salt when she asked. Sometimes he caught her staring and had no idea what to do but smile at her.

That’s what he’s doing then, since she’s standing just outside the bathroom door, staring. Xavier’s lips feel dry from the toothpaste.

“Hi, Rose,” he says awkwardly. Earlier that summer, along with becoming too tall, his voice has started to change. It spikes up randomly and then changes a few octaves too deep. Right then it decides to be too deep and Xavier has to clear his throat around it.

“I need help.” Rose positively blurts it, nearly runs the entire sentence together like it’s one singular word. Xavier blinks a few times as his brain catches up, fitting the words together. He’s an older brother, so his first natural reaction is to immediately panic and think the worst.

“Are you okay?” Xavier asks just as quickly, taking a small step toward her. Rose’s face turns a dark shade of red that he almost thinks makes her look…pretty. She looks a lot like her brother. They have the same small, upturned nose and wide set brown eyes. She’s wearing make up; just a hint of it, mascara on her eyes and a lip gloss. Xavier has no idea what to do with that information. Is she supposed to be wearing make up? He tries to remember when Tess started slathering eyeshadow on—probably around the same time she shaved her head. This felt like a very different sort of make up. And Rose had long hair—long curly brown hair. David kept his hair short—it was easier for sports.

It’s half a second before he realizes she’s said something.

“What?”

“Can you come with me?”

“What?” Xavier’s voice comes out high then, a squeaky scratch. He clears his throat again and rubs a broad palm over the back of his neck, glancing around the bathroom. “Should I get Dave?” David was trying out being called Dave and Xavier was sort of jealous, because there was no cool way to nickname Xavier.

“No!”

“Okay.” His hands come together. He twists fingers together, held in front of his chest. Xavier is so much taller than her that she has to tilt her head up.

“C’mon,” Rose says, turning on her heel. Xavier can hear her brother down the hall, with Mark. They’re laughing. He turns around from David’s door and toward the end of the hallway where Rose sleeps. The Thompson’s house was very cool—it had a pool, but it also had more bedrooms that weren’t used as bedrooms, because the Thompson’s didn’t have four kids like the Wolffe’s. It was just David and Rose, so there was an entire room dedicated to just books.

Emily would have liked it. She was always hungry for a book. She would finish one, and immediately pick up another. Sometimes Xavier liked to sit in her room while she read and he worked on homework, because the sound of the pages turning was soothing. She listened to the worst sort of music, slow sad stuff. But she was his sister and it was nice to have company.

He wonders if Rose wishes she had a sister, as she trails him into the book room.

“I need you to get that book for me.” She points to a volume that is, admittedly, much higher than she can reach. Xavier stares at it. Then he turns and points at the step stool in the room.

“Can’t you just—”

“Oh my God,” Rose whines. “Please?” She enunciates the word. Xavier does as she asks, reaching with his long arms. He tucks a finger into the spine and yanks. He barely needed to move at all, and when he turns with the book in his hand, he feels oddly pleased. He likes being helpful, it’s why he spends so much time with his uncle, who works on cars. Xavier loves when his uncle asks for a wrench and he finds the wrench and gives it to his uncle, who then asks for a flashlight and then Xavier hands him the flashlight.

Rose smacks the cover of the book and it thumps on the floor.

“Rose,” Xavier gasps, annoyed. “What the fuck—” When he bends to pick it up, two hands close around his cheeks and yank him forward. Xavier stumbles, catches hold of the bookshelf, his other hand closing around Rose’s forearm as she kisses him.

For about a year after that, that is the only kiss he ever experiences, so in that moment, it’s the kiss of all kisses. Something about being tricked into it even makes him feel more crazy about it, wildly alert, with his eyes sprung open. He can see her dark lashes. In reality, it’s the most chaste and awkward press of lips together. It lingers for a moment too long, making him cringe in memory and almost terrified in the moment.

Xavier is fairly sure he does it wrong (whatever he is supposed to do back), but when Rose pulls away, she looks content. Which pushes out the terror and adrenaline from his chest and fills it with warm satisfaction. He grins, blinking. He really does like making people happy.

“Don’t tell my brother,” she demands, with a finger raised.

“Okay,” Xavier replies in a whisper. He finishes bending fully and takes the book in his hand. He stands and holds it out for her. Rose wrinkles her nose and shrugs and then she leaves.

With nothing left to do, Xavier replaces the book. He leaves the little library and pads his way barefoot back to David’s room. They’re still playing the new game; he’s entirely uninterested in it, even when they try and cajole him into taking the third controller. Instead, he sits down on the floor, on the pillows and blankets that they’d made into a nest, where they’ll all sleep later. Mark warns them they’re getting too old to sleep together. It’s ‘gay shit’ he declares, but he doesn’t protest throwing his pillow he brought from home into the mix.

Xavier is locked inside the kiss, staring at the TV screen, watching pixel enemies die in a video game. Occasionally, he isn’t sure why, but he glances sideways to where David sits, hunched over with terrible posture, eyes shiny with excitement for the game.

He and Rose really do look alike.

***

“You fucking cheated,” Xavier accuses, but he’s laughing. Benji spreads his hands, innocently. A card sticks out from his sleeve. He swears and stuffs it back up, but Xavier launches forward to snatch at it. “You fucker. You absolute fucker.”

Benji howls out a laugh, as Xavier lands on his thighs and pins his wrists and threatens him. He snarls like the rabid dog everyone always says he is. And it makes Benji laugh. God, it makes him laugh.

“I’ll kill you, man! Stop cheating at cards when we only get one fucking round to play.” Gunshots are ringing off in the background. Three short whistles. A brief respite. Benji. Benji, Benji, Benji. Dangerous game.

“You’re supposed t’be killin’ me already, asshole,” Benji snaps back, performing such an easy grapple that one might wonder if Xavier let himself be put in that position. He’s flipped onto his side, a leg pinned between his, an arm over his throat. Weight pushes him onto his back, the submission total. It sends a shiver up and down his spine that makes his calves clench, his stomach hurt, his lungs squeeze. There’s absolutely no real strength in that forearm; instead it’s pressed softly, and Xavier’s skull would have smashed into the concrete if a gloved hand hadn’t caught it first.

It tickles his hair.

He pants, arms splayed on either side of him, eyes narrowed delightfully. Benji hovers above him. His brown eyes are dilated. Dangerous game.

“Round two?” Xavier asks, smiling with all his teeth, knowing they don’t have time. They’ll never have enough time.

***

“Wow, you’re dog shit at this.”

Xavier, exhausted and sweat slick, looks up. A willowy frame blocks out the blistering sun, which he’s so thankful for he could cry if he didn’t know exactly who it was. Instead he swallows, his mouth rusty and dry. He puts a hand over his eyes like a shield, leans back on his haunches and then sighs.

“Riley,” he says.

“Xavier,” the other private replies.

“Come over here just to watch me struggle?” Xavier gestures to the pathetic excuse for a tent beside himself. Of all the things he’s struggled with, he has no idea why it has to be this. Xavier scores perfectly on marksmanship. His close quarter combat skills are good enough he helps with lessons. Xavier can start a fire in the desert from nothing, he remembers policies and can cite them off with a memory that makes superior officers grin. Xavier does what he’s told, when he’s told and they like that about him.

But he fucking sucks at pitching a tent. And the only person in his platoon that finds that funny, is Riley Matheson. Because the only person Xavier doesn’t get along with with is fucking Riley Matheson. He isn’t sure why and it feels like an inside joke he isn’t in on, because it feels like everyone else knows why. They throw glances over their shoulders, sneer in that secretive ways that isolates Xavier. It scares him. He doesn’t want to be alone.

“Maybe I like watching you struggle,” Riley quips, folding hands behind his lower back as though he’s at rest. He’s an impressive figure, tall and slender like a blade. He has one of those tans that turns honey brown in the summertime, makes his pale brown eyes stand out. Xavier’s never told anyone, but he actually saw Riley once or twice just before the first day of basic training. He’d had shoulder length blond hair that had been wavy, like he spent all day laying in beach water. It had been really beautiful before they’d shaved it off.

“They have a word for that,” Xavier mutters, attempting to reign his tent under control.

“Word for what?”

“Watching people—exhibitionism or some shit.”

Riley chokes, his hands falling from behind his back. He looks around as if he’s checking to make sure no one’s listening. And they aren’t really—more interested in hunkering down for the night. Their tents are all set up, nice and neat. The sun is hanging low in the sky, about to fall under. It’ll be night soon and Xavier will be sleeping on top of his tent again.

“Xavier, that’s not—Man. That’s voyeurism, when you wanna watch someone—exhibitionism is when—”

“Oh, see. Look at you, knowing fancy fucking definitions. I knew you were into some weird shit, Riley,” Xavier’s voice grows hotter as he snaps the poles for his tent. The canvas slides right off and piles at the edge. He picks it up and begins tearing at it, gritting his teeth together. It wont actually rip under his hands, but he’s so damn angry that he has to do something.

“Dude, stop.” Riley’s hand closes around Xavier’s shoulder, making him freeze like some strange prey animal caught in a trap. His heart is thundering in his ears, the pitiful shame of not being able to do such a simple task causing heat to bloom along his skin. He refuses to look up at Riley. He can’t stomach being teased right now.

For their entire trip, they’ve been at odds. Riley sits next to him at breakfast, eating a shitty MRE. He mocks Xavier’s Boston accent and asks why he eats so fast. Riley shows off how easily he can run in full tac gear, pulling ahead of Xavier, who is so used to always leading the front. Riley doesn’t listen when their squad leader tells Xavier to relay information. Riley questions him, always, a hundred different questions. Xavier feels hot all over every single time Riley comes up to him and asks Xavier to repeat himself.

Just for me this time, you know I can’t understand a word you’re saying, Xavier.

“Let me help.”

Riley drops to a crouch beside Xavier, just like he does every morning, drinking sludgy coffee from a dented thermos. Their shoulders bump together as the other soldier takes the tent in his hands. His movements are fluid and practiced. Smooth. He has broad, tanned hands. Calloused and rough. Strong.

And Riley helps Xavier with his tent every night after that. They still don’t get along—if anything, sometimes Xavier feels like it’s worse. Like Riley helping him has made him even more frustrating to deal with, maybe that he holds something over Xavier now. They jostle each other for attention from the Corporal. They argue over the same ideas and can’t decide which one of them is right until someone yells at them to shut up. They try and best each other in everything, running, combat, marksmanship, finishing meals—and still, Riley helps with the God damn tent.

Xavier feels too big for the tent too. He has to lay with his legs slightly bent. He keeps a hand underneath his cheek, because they aren’t given pillows. Just bedrolls that get packed up into neat little squares in the morning. Sometimes the wind batters the tent and he feels like he can hear people in the wind. Voices, telling him he chose wrong. He made the wrong decision, at eighteen years old. He’d done it for his sisters. He’d done it so his parents didn’t have to worry about where money would go—to what child.

The tent flap flips open and Xavier bolts upright. His knife is already in his hand until the flap is zipped loudly shut. Then the knife is sliding and dropping loudly on the cold dirt beneath him and his bedroll.

“Riley?” Xavier’s voice is thin with concern. “Are you okay?”

“What?” He seems startled by the question, sinking to his knees. He has to straddle Xavier’s ankles just to fit. It’s so dark that Xavier isn’t even sure how he knew it was Riley at all. He’s embarrassed to admit it might have been because Riley has such a distinct silhouette. This proud, straight shouldered form. That Xavier has spent a lot of time looking at him and his broad, defined shoulders.

“What are you doing?” Xavier asks. “Is—Is everything alright?”

“Why are you asking me that?” Riley’s voice holds no heat, just confusion.

“What the fuck? Because you’re in my tent in the middle of the night—did something happen?”

He laughs. It lances Xavier with humiliation that he’s done something wrong. Nerves rise up along his skin, making him jittery as he tries to scoot himself back in the tent, but there’s nowhere to go. His legs are suddenly very firmly trapped underneath Riley’s thighs. Xavier’s stomach flutters uncomfortably. The other man comes closer, hunching forward.

“You’re so good, you know that, Xavier?” His mouth dries at the words and the feeling in his stomach swells. He thinks about using the knife to cut open the side of his tent and yell for help. His hands twitch, flat on the ground beneath him. They’re sweaty. Xavier leans as far back as he can, head brushing the canvas.

“I can’t believe you just worry about people like that. Makes me sort of dizzy that you’re worried about me.”

“What are you talking about, man?”

“Shut up.” Then Riley kisses him, which makes Xavier slip. He’s on his back, with Riley above him, lips pressed to his own. The weight of his body is overwhelming. For a moment, it’s surreal that every single kiss he’s ever had flashes in front of him; his first kiss, his first girlfriend, the last kiss he had before stepping on a bus to basic, kissing his now ex girlfriend when he finished boot camp and she broke up with him. It seems like his life is full of a hundred little kisses and Riley’s tongue touches his lip and Xavier, who really, really likes kissing, grabs the back of his head and pulls him in for more.

Riley sounds surprised and Xavier swallows that sound. It turns to an open mouth moan when their tongues slide together. It becomes messy and wet and when they part for gulps of air, Xavier becomes aware that Riley’s hands are tugging at his shirt, shoving it up. He stops him with a grasp around the man’s wrist. His thumb touches a wild pulse and the hammering effect of it crashes around his skull.

“Riley,” Xavier says between heavy breathes and the sound of his name makes the soldier practically moan. Something like pride bursts inside Xavier’s chest; a strange feeling, but to make someone feel so good… “I’ve never—I uh—not with a guy before—” Riley snorts and the feeling of pride bursts and instead embarrassment replaces it. The constant tug of emotions makes Xavier feel unsteady and afraid.

“Yeah, that’s obvious.”

“Fuck you.”

“Straight to the point,” Riley purrs, spreading his hands underneath Xavier’s shirt, warm, rough palms sliding along his fever hot skin. “But not straight, after all.”

“Guess not,” Xavier mumbles and wonders when they might start kissing again. He’d sort of like to start kissing again.

“It’s fine, Xavier.” Riley adjusts, sitting more on the lap underneath him. That’s really when Xavier realizes how hard he is—and the feel of their bodies rubbing together makes his head fill with white noise. Riley laughs once more, a soft chuckle under his breath.

(Years and years down the line, Xavier realizes that Riley was laughing both at him and with him and because of him, altogether. It wasn’t a terrible experience, this haphazard kissing, this weird relationship they built for the year or so they knew each other, but it wasn’t entirely wholesome either. It was formative in some ways; Xavier grew a fondness for making people laugh. And a fondness for ones with a bit of meanness to them.

It’s not really until an enemy soldier crashing into his life that he discovers that he likes peeling the meanness back and finding what’s underneath. But for now…)

 Riley’s hands cup across Xavier’s chest, squeezing appreciatively and making his eyes widen. “It’s cute, man. You’re cute. You’re so fucking cute.” And then they kiss again and keep kissing for an entire night.

***

He blinks sweat out his eyes. A bit of blood trickles from a cut on his brow that’s mostly scabbed over. It touches his lashes. Xavier groans, a hand tucked around his ribs that never stop aching, leaned back against the crumbling brick wall he’s hidden behind. A lighter strikes. Once, twice. Then finally it catches and Benji has a cigarette in his mouth. Xavier watches the cherry turn red and bright against the dark. Smoke rises above them and then Benji, on his knees is leaning close.

He holds the cigarette out.

“Sorry, mate. S’all I got.”

“Lifesaver,” Xavier croaks, taking it and dragging on the cigarette hard. It burns his lungs sweetly. He holds it longer than necessary before blowing a stream of thick gray smoke into the air. There’s some small explosion in the background, the ground shaking below them. Xavier closes his eyes slowly—then regrets it because of the blood. He listens to the sound of Benji’s gear crinkling, his exhale and then a warm shoulder is against his own.

Xavier takes another greedy puff from the cigarette and then holds it out for Benji.

“Stop gettin’ hurt,” the medic says gruffly.

“Tell your friends to stop shooting me,” Xavier replies.

“Not all friends,” Benji comments icily.

Xavier’s head rolls on his shoulder to look at him. The dark is heavy and there’s no light where they’re hidden, yet he can make out Benji’s most basic features because they’re close enough. The curve of his nose, his heavy brows. The curly hair pushed back from his face. The burning cigarette in the night.

“I like it. You taking care of me. You’re a good medic,” he says. Holds up his hand for the cigarette. Benji passes it. He can feel the enemy soldiers hot gaze on his face, so he takes a slow drag from the cigarette. Drops his head back and exposes the long column of his throat and briefly imagines Benji leaning in, tongue touching his pulse. It makes his heart beat spike painfully.

But instead, the cigarette just burns down to the filter.

***

He’s never been called into the commanders office before.

Xavier is shocked to find it as lived in as it is—Diana Crowley is too put together to occupy this sort of space, surely. The desk is messy with paperwork—a glass fawn paperweight sits on a stack of manila folders. A blanket lays over a chair in the corner, as if the commander sleeps there often. There’s even a change of shoes by the door—sneakers to replace the heels she seems to permanently wear. There’s more than one diploma on the wall and a picture of an older man beside the computer monitor, bearing her resemblance.

Crowley pulls her long salt and pepper hair back into a messy looking bun. It suits her in the exact way it also seems incredibly unlike her. In this rare moment, it feels like a gift to see her so soft. Xavier’s heartbeat feels uneven and desperate in his chest.

They talk—but he can’t remember the conversation. It must not be important. When Xavier pulls at this memory, all he remembers is the way she’d stood from her desk. Rising elegantly, fingers trailing across the mahogany, the paperwork. How she’d walked around it to face him. Crowley was not a short woman, she was short compared to him. Everyone’s short compared to Xavier.

He remembers how his jaw had gone slack at the touch of her hand on his bicep, the press of her body against him. It had been autopilot for his hands to rise and cup her slim waist.

And then Crowley was leaning up and—

***

Benji crashes into him—funny how he knows it’s Benji too. Should just be a random soldier, and even the red cross stamped on his gray armor shouldn’t be enough. But even before they get around a car, crouch behind it’s metal protection, even before Benji’s tearing his helmet away and holding Xavier by the biceps, he knows it’s him.

He dances around the word fate. Xavier is crazy enough to believe in it. He’s crazy enough to believe in anything now. Crazy enough to keep going. Tempting it.

“What are you doing?” Benji hisses, his gloved hands making quick patting assessments across Xavier’s arms. His sides. Careful with the right, because Xavier had told him the story of those broken ribs once when it was just them and some abandoned room that they shouldn’t have been hiding in together. Xavier pants, goes for the buckle of his own helmet, but doesn’t pull it away just yet.

“My team is pushing point,” Xavier says quickly, a hand wrapping around Benji’s wrist. “Didn’t know there’d be so many of you.”

“You need to turn ‘round, mate,” Benji replies. Bullets splatter the ground in the street, kicking up pavement. They don’t aim for the car just yet.

Not without Lark, Xavier thinks, not without Benny. He lingers on staring at Benji’s widened, tired eyes, the pools of which look pretty in the sun. The light turns them amber. His hair is messy from the helmet, flattened on one side, too fuzzy on the other. His chest heaves in hard breathes, because he’d all but tackled Xavier into safety like this. Has someone seen him? Will someone catch Benji defending a Kingdom mercenary like this?

Xavier shoulders against the car, daring to look above the hood for a brief moment.

“Listen, Xavier,” Benji pants, coming closer. Xavier can feel the heat of his body. It makes him blink sweat rapidly from his eyes, stare down at the medic as he stares up. The air between them feels thick. “Go east, alright? There’s less of ‘em.”

Them, as if Benji isn’t also them. With every collision of them and fate, they’ve tested that boundary far too many times, pretended not to be what they actually are. Spoken to each other like friends (the secret desire of something more not ever said aloud), not people from different realities, fighting on very opposite sides of those realities. Even now, Xavier finds it hard to think of Benji as anyone other than just Benji.

Instead of replying, he winks and smiles. Benji’s face trembles with dreadful realization. Then Xavier stands to assess where he needs to go next. He can’t leave without—

Then he’s on his back.

A series of very odd memories come to him then; running in the backyard with Spot, crying when he got to hold his baby sister for the first time, arguing with his father in the living room, Tess telling him ‘don’t go’ and, ironically, he remembers how hard it had been to sleep last night. He lives inside that moment as if he’s an audience to it, inside his skull, staring down at his hands as he sits up in bed.

There’s a dull ringing in his ears and Benji yelling and when the bubbles in his ears pop, he hears rather than feels himself being dragged across pavement and rubble. His tac gear scratching the street, his heavy boots thunking uselessly. Xavier’s eyes blink sluggishly, the sky coming into view, bright and cloudless. Nice day for the beach, if he could make it.

Xavier’s breath catches hands raising to his head, no helmet.

Then Benji is beside him.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck,” he chants. The terror in his voice hurts. It seizes Xavier wildly, like a fist clenched around his heart. His mouth is dried from warzone dust, his teeth gritty with it. “Oh fuck, Xavier,” Benji continues as he kneels over him. Xavier feels hands touching his cheeks, his temples. He feels them sliding into his hair, cradling the back of his head.

“Did I just get shot?” Xavier asks. He imagines his helmet, bullet dented and in the street. Benji’s hands are still holding him, one cupped underneath his head, the other at his temple. He feels adrift, like he’s being lapped away by the waves, instead of ass down in the dirty remains of a street. Xavier’s breathing stutters out of him, his side welling with pain, as it always does.

“Why’d you stand up?” Benji finally snaps. One of his thumbs presses against Xavier’s eyebrow. It smooths across it, making the big red head shudder. It’s so small in it’s intimacy and he wants so much more of it. “Xavier, can you hear me?” Benji’s voice cracks, anger bleeding back into fear.

“I can hear you.”

Everything tunnels for a moment, to Benji’s hands holding him. To the very slim amount of space between them. To either of them, dirt crusted, sweat soaked, war weary. The sky behind Benji’s head is an endless, summer blue. A curl of hair has sprung forward, dangling against his dark cheek. Xavier moans and his arms sling forward, wreathing around Benji’s neck and shoulders; he brings them together, chest to chest. He hears Benji’s knee pads scraping on the concrete below them as he’s tugged closer.

Their mouths meet.

Xavier dives into the kiss with a painful desperation and another low, throaty moan. A hand slips into Benji’s hair, fingers knotting through curly black strands. His tongue presses between lips, tasting. It becomes frantic and messy, their mouths suddenly slick and sliding together. Xavier’s leg curls around Benji, shoving their bodies firmer together. Their tongues roll, heads tilting back and forth, teeth nipping lips. Xavier’s hands cup Benji’s cheeks, devouring hungrily. And when they part for air, he doesn’t even stop himself. Just gasps between smaller kisses.

His chest rumbles, his whole body shivering for a moment with strained pleasure. Benji’s pupils are so dilated, it’s as if the irises have disappeared altogether. Xavier holds him still as his tongue swipes inside his mouth once more.

“Christ, I love the way you taste, Benji,” he groans, their foreheads knocking together. His hips gyrate up, his leg tugging their bodies together tighter. “More,” he manages to whisper, their lips almost together again.

Then Benji disappears.

Xavier scrambles up and onto his knees, heart beating wildly. His hands scrape the scorched earth, eyes darting until he sees Lark.

The radiant stands, wind whipping around him. His dark jacket flutters, bleach blond hair messy. Lark stands, but Benji is held, kneeling at his feet, hands slightly raised, surprise etched on his face. The wind also yanks at his curls. They’re too exposed, in the open like that, Xavier’s chest bursting with fear redoubled. He stumbles to a stand, unsteady on his feet. His head surges with pain from the bullet earlier, the helmet catching lethality but not the bruises that will be forming later.

Lark’s hand tightens on Benji’s collar.

Xavier yelps something wordless, stepping forward. But he’s beaten by Benny, coming around the bend like a terrifying stalking beast through smoke and gunfire. He holds his Operator, muzzle swung low to the ground. For a bulkier man, he’s quick on his feet and he skids to a stop beside the radiant and medic. Then swings the rifle up, muzzle at Benji’s temple.

Panic explodes just like pain inside Xavier; there’s a brief moment where he envisions Benji, dead on the ground, half of his head blown out and brains on the ground. No helmet to save him—not that anything could save him from the Operator. Not at this range, at least, not really at any range, when it’s Benny on the scope.

“Benny,” Xavier says his friends name like he’s approaching a skittish creature. Benny is trembling, head to toe and maybe someone who doesn’t know the mercenary would figure it’s adrenaline or excitement. Blood thirst. Maybe they’d look at someone like Benny, covered in tattoos, wielding something as deadly as a sniper rifle, and think he’d enjoy this. The muzzle pressed against Benji’s temple stutters a bit and the medic winces, eyes swinging back and forth.

Xavier knows Benny though. The man’s terrified. He’s trembling from a pure, dangerous sort of fear. Cornered animal type of scared. His finger is disciplined, not yet curled around the trigger, but Xavier has seen what Benny can do out of fear.  His heart squirms inside his chest, his stomach turning cold and leaden. Please, he thinks. Oh fuck, please, Benny. Anyone but him, anyone but Benji.

“Where’s your body cam?” the sniper barks, his accent clipped, his voice feral. He snaps the muzzle on Benji’s temple again, making the medic look wide eyed and then furious.

“Oi, you blond fuck, you have any manners?” His hands turned to fists upraised in the air, his lip curling to a sneer. Xavier wants to howl at Benji to shut the fuck up? Of course, he’d be mouthy, even now. What did Xavier expect? He tries to breathe through his nose and out through his mouth, but instead he pants like a winded horse, hands raised to try and calm Benny down.

“Where’s—your—body—cam?”

“They don’t waste that on medics, mate,” Benji snaps. “What? Think they’re combin’ footage of me slappin’ gauze on half dead pricks?”

“Benny, put it down.”

“Y-You fucker, if you h-have any footage of him—”

“Didn’t I just say, they don’t waste that on medics? Pat me down, dickhead, see what you find.”

“I’m going to kill you,” Benny snarls and Xavier lurches forward, his terror filling his blood like ice.

“No.” Lark steps to the side of Benji, easily nudging the Operator’s muzzle aside. It makes Xavier’s heart flip around in his chest, imaging a misfire. The radiant stands, knees spread, crowded around Benji’s side. Some insane, possessive part of Xavier’s brain barks, snarls, spits, says he’s mine, get away from him, he’s mine. Lark’s hand doesn’t leave Benji’s collar, firmly holding the medic on his knees.

“Killing medics is a war crime,” Lark says cooly, staring at Benny.

“I’m a war criminal,” the sniper seethes, his smile curling on his face, rancid and mean. There’s a pause where either men stare at each other, Benny with his chin tilted down and Lark, even and unafraid. His calmness works like a balm to Benny, causing him to suddenly sag, his rabies like grin twitch into a frown. And then turning altogether into blatant, vulnerable concern. Benny’s ice colored eyes swing toward Xavier.

“I saw you get sh-shot,” he says and Xavier’s ribs constrict. Christ, he can imagine being Benny. Up and away from it all, in the safety of a perch and watching a man getting shot in the head. Dragged away by an enemy soldier. That fear makes sense—Xavier feels guilt push through his own and he takes a step forward.

“I’m fine, Benny.” Pale, tattooed hands wrap harder around a rifle and then relax. He goes slack. The wind continues and the distant sounds of gunfire make anxiety pool sweat underneath Xavier’s arms. “I’m fine, see? Not even bleeding.”

One of Benny’s hands darts out, touching the side of Xavier’s head. He does a quick scrub through sweat slick red hair, searching for a wound and coming up empty. His hand lingers, cupped around the nape of Xavier’s neck. Then he pulls away. Benny slings the rifle around his shoulder, teeth gnashing together. He makes a motion with his hands, thumb corkscrewing on his flattened palm.

LATER.

It’s a furious sign as Benny stalks away, heavy combat boots ominous. Lark is smiling tightly when Xavier looks over at him. He finally unclasps his hand from Benji’s collar and raises flat palms, fanning the air slightly in front of him.

TROUBLE.

“Yeah, yeah,” Xavier growls, stepping closer. One of his hands brushes across Benji’s cheek and holds it, a thumb brushing back and forth across skin. He tries not to pay too close attention to the way Benji’s lips are swollen, still a little slick from how messily they’d been kissing just moments before.

“I’ll take him back to his squad. Or, close as I can get him anyway.” Lark’s smile is crooked, confident.

“So, not dyin’ today?”

Xavier’s hand becomes a possessive paw, curled tighter on Benji’s face. His thumb makes a divot on a handsome cheek. Benji stares up, with glittering mischievous eyes.

“How ‘bout you never die, huh?” Xavier says, giving him a fond, flirtatious shake.

“Just because I stopped Benny from killing him doesn’t mean I want you two flirting in front of me,” Lark interjects as Benji opens his mouth to say something else. He wisely shuts it and then starts to stand slowly. Lark’s hand grips around a broad bicep, holding tightly. “And you can just stay silent the whole ride. If you talk, you risk bugs in your teeth.”

“Ride? What ride—”

Then Benji disappears. Xavier listens, ears straining to the sound of his voice appearing, popping wildly in the distance with surprise and indignation. Then it’s gone and Lark’s gotten too far away to hear either of them at all.

Xavier stands there, the ghost of kissing on his lips, a horrible bruise forming across the left side of his scalp. His fingers twitch and he looks down at his hands, where they’ve been scrapped across pavement and rubble. He closes them slowly, licks his lips to remind himself Benji had just been there. He tries to breath evenly, but it rattles around in his lungs, caged like some sort of animal.

“I’m judging you,” Benny yells from across the distance, already somewhere higher, safer and hidden. Xavier laughs, the sound a scraping bark from his throat. He pulls his sidearm, presses close to the wall of a building to keep himself safe. To be prepared to exit once Lark makes his return.

[the-tired-cat-hexer]

Chapter I

“Liam, stop bothering him.” the sheep hybrid said firmly, not trying to sound angry.

It had been a few days since George's settlement in the underground base, but it seemed he had been adjusting somewhat to it. To the others as well. And from what Caroline had noticed, he had taken a good interest in the two children, Erica and Liam, Clay's niece and nephew. He seemed to be more on the positive side, sometimes even letting Liam crawl over his back, which was adorable, but it wouldn't be something that would make George feel better. 

She knew that a victim like him wouldn't even consider a touch, but seeing that he didn't seem too bothered or terrified, she didn't scold the small feathery hybrid that much for it.

With his tiny paws, Liam pushed himself up and crawled onto George's back, messing up his fur as he continued to move. He carefully turned to the side, his paws slipping a bit as he tried to keep them on the stag hybrid's spine. He then took strands of the darker fur which resembled moss and tugged on it. All the while, George just let it happen, chest slowly rising and falling as he rested on the couch while Cara was reading on the carpeted floor.

It was hard the first two days, he barely ate or drank, but after he realized that Cara wasn't there to hurt or poison him, it went more smoothly. He still didn't eat much, though. Caroline knew she had to be patient with him, and let him fully adjust to those that are willing to help.

Cara shifted her front legs, making sure to not scratch her belly with her hooves, and glanced over at the resting hybrid. She watched as he let out a large exhale and bury his muzzle into his front leg, completely unbothered by the small hybrid who was just a year old. His features were soft, eyes closed, rhythmic breathing undisturbed.

“How is he?” a soft whisper sounded from behind her, a voice she recognized.

“He's doing alright,” she replied. “Just resting now.”

The giant creepling centaur hybrid nodded and carefully laid down beside her as his size shrunk closer to her height. Normally, Sam would be more comfortable in his actual nine-foot-tall self, but he didn’t want to intimidate the sheep hybrid, especially when she was going through that part of life.

“He has gotten better, hasn't he?”

Cara nodded, “Not fully, but a little bit.”

“Still a good process” Sam glanced down at the book for a minute before he remembered the question he wanted to ask once he came back from his job. He was surprised he even remembered it, knowing how hard it was to be a captain of the guard, but if it made the money and kept the others safe, it was worth it being there. Especially when he had most of the control over the guards.

“Say,” he began. “How do you feel about it?”

Caroline looked up from her book, a little confused. When he gave a quick glance at her stomach and back to her eyes, she blinked in recognition. “Oh, well…” She paused for a while, thinking over her words. She looked down at her swollen belly, a light smile curling up on her lips. “It's, honestly nice. I was, always the motherly one, so I only have experience from babysitting during my teen years, but now,” she blinked. “It feels almost unreal to me. I think it was also unreal to her.”

Yep, it sure was. “He burst into the living room, ya know?”

“He did?”

“Yeah, Ponk literally ran in yelling they're gonna be a dad. Poor fella started crying even.” Sam chuckled. It was a sweet memory, even though Sam nearly jumped out of his skin when Diallo burst in and yelled. 

Cara giggled. “I know, they almost started crying when I told her.”

Letting out a yawn, Sam simply put his paws underneath him and folded his four arms to get more comfortable. It was a rather long night, having to stay guard once more ever since another incident happened, which, somehow, George didn't know about. But then again, he was asleep when it happened, in the more soundproof room. The incident didn't last too long because Luke caught it before anything happened. 

But now, it was better. He just hoped that nothing would happen while a small part of the group was in the village.

---

The village was quite busy this autumn. Shops, trainings, trades, smithing, you name it. Many hybrids came to visit the place, as it was very welcoming to them, even offering up a shelter for a few nights. 

Clay's ear twitched as the sound of swords clashing together sounded not too far from when they were. Today, they decided to visit in their hybrid form. It wasn't much; it made them more recognizable from the crowds of villagers, people, and hybrids. Now that they thought about the swords clashing and that some of the grunts and yells sounded familiar. Wouldn't hurt to check it out. 

They did get there after a few of the members of their group got sent to get some trades and some extra money from selling some of the handmade weapons and herbs from the greenhouse. So maybe someone decided to do that, but by placing bets on who will win the fight.

Pushing through the crowd, Clay found a vast circle around the training base, blocking the view of what was happening. With a little annoyed sigh, the earth-dragon with a dark shade of blue over their back decided to break the rules a bit, like the others, go around the training ground, and climb on top of the wooden planks that were built to stack on top of each other, creating seats for the rule breakers. It didn't take much, and soon enough, Clay had a complete view of what was happening.

Clay should have expected him to be the center of attention amongst the orcs, piglins, and other warriors that enjoyed a good fight or two. It earned him an amused huff from Clay.

“How can ya see through the dang thing, slime?” The young dark-haired orc asked, tightly gripping the sword in his hands. He did look to be half-orc, half-human, as he was around Luke's height. 

The blond chuckled, chest shaking. “I just do. Just because I'm half blind doesn't mean I can't fully see.” That sounded a bit ironic with the cloth over his eyes. But then again, he didn't earn the nickname The Blind Warrior for nothing. “Now,” Luke readied his sword, “show me what else you got!”

Clay let their upper half lie down with their front legs folded as they continued watching the small training. 

After a while of swords slashing and parrying, Clay heard a familiar voice from behind them. Which made them slightly raise their shoulders in a tiny bit of fear.

“Hey there, beast!” Darryl said energetically, plopping down next to them with crossed legs. 

“Do you need to call me that?” Clay said, almost monotone.

The incubus let out a muffled giggle, waving his tail side to side. Darryl put their knuckles to his lips, as in thought, before speaking. “How's your day going?”

“Could be better, just hanging out here, really.”

“I never noticed how buff Luke is,”

“He is taken, you know?” Clay turned their head to look at him, looking rather done as if knowing where this was going.

“I'm just saying,” Darryl defended themselves, “isn't it normal to just compliment someone?”

“For an incubus, it can be pretty suspicious.” They flicked their tail.

The ebony-black-skinned incubus let out a tsk. “You think that I will eat him?”

Clay blinked, a little amused. Letting out a little huff, they said, “Oh, you will eat something from him if you keep staring like that, alright?” They felt a little sick after saying that.

Darryl stayed quiet. It wasn't hard to know why. But it didn't stop them from changing the topic.

“How's his brother doing? Any better?”

It happened two years ago, of course Grayson would most likely heal from the manifested guilt after two years. “Yes, he still has nightmares about it, but he doesn't let it get to him that much anymore.” It wasn't a lie, Grayson had improved quite a lot, but the scars could still reopen if the right trigger is found. And the trigger seemed to be seeing his brother's face without the blindfold.

Darryl smiled. “That's good, glad he's doing better.” 

Clay's tail twitched. It, wasn't the first time it happened. It wasn't a normal twitch, it felt like more was coming. They gulped, unsure what to do when they were in such a large crowd of people. It was something that they wanted to keep a secret, and it wasn't something that would be normal.

“Darryl?..” they asked, softly.

The incubus turned his head to look at their friend a little puzzled but clearly worried. 

“Can you teleport me into the forest? It's important.” “Can't you do it on your own-”

“My powers are weak due to using this form a lot, and I doubt that they will work,” It was true that they were a powerful hybrid, but even those had their weaknesses and limits. And they knew what would happen if they pushed themselves once again.

The incubus paused. “Alright, anywhere specific?” 

Clay shook their head, “no, just anywhere out of the village. But maybe just outside the village.”

Darryl nodded in understanding, although he seemed a little suspicious about what Clay was on about. “Alrighty, see you then, will tell the others that you left.”

“Thank you,”

With a small shimmer, Clay quickly found themselves near the guard towers from where they took off into the dense forest. It was hard to go at full speed with their long tail that had long and thick beige fur at the tip, reminding others of a fox's brush. But Clay got enough speed to get away from there in time before the twitching got worse. And worse it got.

---

“Have you guys come back without Clay?”

Grayson looked at Sam, confused. “I thought that they went back here?” “Yeah, that's what Darryl said!” Charlie chimed in.

Sam felt his heart drop. This could only mean one single thing. “Grayson, you and Ponk go northwest from here, and you Slime, you will take Brendan and go southwest.” Sam then sighed, “I will go with Jack to the west.”

Everyone nodded in unison, put their bags on the couch, and ran toward their assigned destinations — Slime to Brendan's room, and Grayson to Ponks office. Before the large creeper hybrid could do anything, he noticed that the loud and quick footsteps woke up the mushroom rabbit stag. He could hear the low whimpers from the younger hybrid as he shifted on the couch, antlers poking from the top of the backrest.

George hummed before whispering in a low voice; “What… What's happening?..” His words were dragged out, almost as if his brain was still processing words. Just seeing him like this, so vulnerable, sigh, it was just sad to see. Sam knew what had happened and felt terrible for the frail hybrid. 

“Hey, slept well?” Sam asked quietly, folding his arms on top of the couch, trying to keep his voice down so as to not scare him. 

George drew in a large shaky breath through his nose, his chest rising high before lowering and returning back to stable breathing. His body was lightly trembling, possibly recognizing Sam's voice. He shifted some more on the couch and pressed his chin into the leather.

“It's alright, keep asleep,” he said, resisting the urge to pet George's hair. “Cara will stay with you along with Niki and the kids, alright?” He watched as George weakly nodded, his white freckled cheeks tensing up and he squeezed his eyes shut. This time he drew in a shaky breath.

“Where… Where is…”

“They're still outside, will come back soon…”

---

It was far into October, nearing the middle of the month, which made everyone on edge, knowing it was just a few days away. Slime might have been not the brightest, but he was aware of what this could mean for everyone, especially every predator. He wasn't dumb like that. Yes, he did act like an idiot, but that did not mean he had low intelligence. 

Searching through the bushes, he knew they were getting close to the Cursed Cave, which could be dangerous taking in the fact that the cave has very much a bad reputation for being, as the name says, cursed. Nobody knows where the curse came from, but whoever walked in there, either never came back, or came back deranged and clearly not sound of mind, living the rest of their lives in a mental hospital. He was aware of that, he saw it once, a dare. A dare that paid the price.

“Anything yet?” Brendan sounded from behind him, having to yell just to be heard. For his hybrid size, an inchling, he really was confident in what he did. A blue moth that could fit in any nook and cranny and change his size along with it.

“No, nothing yet,” 

An audible sigh came close as the inchling flew onto his shoulder. “This is getting real bad,” Brendan groaned. “Grayson also said that they haven't found anything and are already scouting the whole area. Sam also hasn't found anything.”

Charlie nodded, feeling a shiver down his spine. This was indeed getting really bad. “Do you think that they actually…”

“Went into the cave?.. I mean, the possibility is there.”

“But you know the curse that lingers there, it is risky.”

Brendan shrugged, “Do we have any other option at this point?”

Slime bit his lip. “I guess not.”

“Welp, shall we go there? It's close from here.”

With a sigh, Charlie moved forward, unsure where exactly, but the fact that Brendan didn’t protest made Slime think that he was going the right way. Again, wasn’t completely sure, but there was no time to lose.

They eventually got there, he could tell by the jagged rocks coming into view from below the crowns of the trees. It was as terrifying as it was when he saw what the cave had done to one of the teens. He gulped.

“Nervous?” The inchling asked. Slime just nodded, “I don’t know if this is a good idea.”

And it wasn’t, it really wasn’t. Slime was scared, visibly shaken almost. He wanted to forget that cave. He wanted to forget that crazed expression the teen was wearing after running out of the cave. He wanted to forget the screaming. It genuinely felt horrifying to be near it again. Heck, some have said that it goes much deeper than it looks, maybe miles and miles into the ground, going deep into the earth’s belly. Who knew where the cave actually went? Where it actually lead to. Some say it is the portal to Hell, so…

Please be okay…

Gulping once more, Slime parted a few thick layered leaves from his view and nearly gasped when he saw the mouth of the entrance staring back. Just seeing it again made him shiver.

“We don’t have much of a choice here, Slime,” Brendan nearly growled, not at Charlie, more at himself. He didn’t even realize that Brendan had changed his size, although he was still a bit short than Slime, just by a few inches. “We are either going in there, or going back empty-handed.”

“Would it be bad for me to say that I prefer the second option?” the brunet asked, staring blankly into the abyss.

The not much of an inchling sighed before turning his head at the slime hybrid, head tilted to the side. “I wish I could say the same if it wasn’t for the risks and consequences we would face.”

Without protesting, Slime followed Brendan into The Cursed Cave, feeling the temperature drop along with the air growing thin, making it hard to breathe.

The two, with Brendan acting as a sort of glowing stick due to his glow-in-the-dark markings, walked deeper and deeper into the cave's stomach, with Slime growing more and more anxious as they kept walking. 

The stone walls were decorated with gems of all colors, making it look just like another gem mine, but each gem shimmered in a strange way that Charlie couldn’t put his finger on. The gems just looked, wrong.

“Feeling alright back there, Slime?” Brendan said in a lightly hushed tone as if he didn’t wanna scare him off. When the slimy brunet hummed his response, the inchling turned his head to smile at him. “We will find them, don't worry.”

“I know, just too scared to find the worst…” Slime admitted.

Brendan was about to say something when he stopped in his tracks. His antennas twitching as if to find something. Some noise.

It sounded like…

Crying.

“Boss? Is that you?” Brendan yelled, his voice echoing. “Hey!”

A loud gasp sounded from the unknown source. The two knew that it came from deeper within the cave.

They ran towards the heavy breathing, which was under-layered by their footsteps, but still loud enough to recognize that they were growing closer. 

Suddenly, it stopped.

“Boss?” Brendan nearly whimpered after they stopped running.

There they were. Body parts twitching, tears streaming down their lime green and white fur. Looking at them with terrified eyes. Their stripes and spots glowing in a neon cyan, illuminating their surroundings like Brendan’s did.

Had they actually gone mad? thought Charlie as sweat dripped down his temples. 

“Oh… Hey…” Clay said, voice lightly shaking before wiping their tears. That meant they were still sane, still the same hybrid Charlie and Brendan knew.

Brendan asked; “Did something happen?”

“Just…” Clay sighed. “Just a vision,”

That could have meant anything.

“About what?” Charlie asked, stepping forward.

Clay paused, looking down blankly as if thinking over their answer. “It was Zak, surrounded by red vines and lichen.”

---

George woke up, slowly opening his eyes. He could hear the slightly muffled voices of others talking about something he couldn’t understand. He caught the last bit of conversation before they realized he had woken up. Something about red.

George let out a loud exhale before slowly getting up by his upper body. He felt weak and scared. Where was he again? Oh, with, them. The adrenaline started to pump through his veins again, remembering all the members he met, the ones he feared the most. His breathing became heavy, legs lightly twitching.

A voice he recognized quickly made him pause. “Hey, did we wake you up dear?” It was the ginger-and-purple-haired woman, Minx, was it? “You slept for a while, must have been relaxing ey?” She rested her forearms on the backrest of the couch, looking down at him with an unreadable expression. Although he could make out the small amount of sympathy in her eyes. “But guess what, we found something you might like. Boss mentioned it because you two talked about it once.”

George lifted himself up into a more sitting position to look over the couch, watching as the taller female hybrid walked over to a basket, which she picked up and brought over to George, going around the couch to reach the brunet. “Here, I think it will help you out.”

After looking over the basket that had something covering it, he hesitantly took it, looked it over again, and peeled the cloth away to expose whatever was inside.

The little creature mewed, awakened from its sleep. It shook its head and looked up at him with round hazel eyes. A silver tabby kitten.

“We thought that maybe, it could help.” Her tone was still monotone but had that light hint of compassion toward him.

George wasn't too sure what to think. Was this maybe a trap to gain their trust? To then abuse it? To then… Take advantage of him?

The kitten mewled again, sitting up and slowly blinking at the hybrid. It tilted its head as if fascinated by him. 

“It’s a girl by the way, haven’t given her a name yet since, Caroline said it will be more appropriate to let you name her.”

“I can?..”

Minx nodded simply, crossing her arms and swaying from side to side in a soothing and patient manner.

Returning his gaze back to the kitten, George managed to lift his hand and pet the silver tabby, earning a loud purr. It was, more comforting than expected. A tiny smile spread across his lips.

“She’s adorable, I know,” Minx half-smiled, looking almost amused.

Smoothing his thumb over the she-cat’s face, George found that his heartbeat had slowed, being calmed by the kittens purring. It was comforting, really. He didn’t know why, but it just was. Not that he was complaining.

“Say, kinda wondering,” Minx said flatly, “do you maybe wanna name her something like, McKanzie?” 

“McKanzie?” George repeated, it sounded strange in his opinion, maybe because he never heard such a name before. But looking at the silver kitten, it strangely fit.

“Yeah, the first name that I thought of when I saw the little cutie.”

George thought for a minute. “I think… I think I like it.” He really didn’t get to choose the name, but he did not mind the name Minx suggested. It was a nice name despite it sounding a bit strange, but it suited the kitten. He repeated the name once more; “McKanzie…”

Now named McKanzie, the silver tabby mewed as if she recognized her name. She lifted herself up on her haunches and put her paw on the bridge of his nose, making him and the mountain lioness hybrid chuckle.

“I guess she likes it too,” she grinned.

---

“Think that they are getting a prophecy?” “It’s called an omen or a sign,” Brendan explained. “I think that whatever it is, Clay is getting some kind of warning.”

Clay shrugged the conversation behind them off and continued following the thick red vines with sturdy looking twisting branches. They kept on going, leaning on rocks and twirling around trees, taking over the greens and browns of the forest. That was when they realized that they were coming closer to the land Darryl made his home. Why was it coming from there? Was it metaphorical or literal? 

Beware the evil that hides within…

[adrian---murphy]

As the brunette proceeded to explain herself, Adrian found himself cringing at his own fate even harder. He had always had a tendency to make jokes to defuse situations, when he was uncomfortable, or to deal with pretty much anything that even hinting at being mildly confrontational. A history of being bullied as a child had left him with the famed coping mechanism of trying to make everyone around him laugh in hopes that being the class clown would gain friends or at least keep him from being shoved into a locker or trash can. He sadly hadn’t been smart enough to do kids homework in return for protection, and being somewhat of a late bloomer meant that well into high school, he’d held onto these habits. Hitting his growth spurt up and out around sixteen was far too late for him to not have it ingrained in him.

Because of his fallback plan of being funny becoming his go-to when meeting new people, the fact that his joke had gone right over the woman’s head made Adrian want to bash his face into the mirror. “Oh no – no, no, you don’t have to explain grammar to me; I got an English degree which is basically a piece of paper that I paid a lot of money for to say that I am really good at wording words and nothing else.” He nodded, a tight-lipped smile on his face as he slumped his shoulders. He wished he would stop with the jokes, as they were doing little to impress her, but the awkwardness was building. 

“You’re not? I wouldn’t have ever guessed.” He muttered to himself with a soft sigh. “ Tamer than you? No…” Adrian said with a daring tone of sarcasm that was normal for him in most cases, but given how intimidating the woman was, he felt a bit surprised that he managed it. “You’ve been nothing but a sweetheart to me the moment you walked in here and found me in the wrong bathroom with my johnson half hanging out. You could go into hospitality with the way you’ve been putting me at ease.” 

In spite of his sassy attempts at hiding his humiliation with humor, her advice was somewhat useful and more appreciated than she probably realized. Adrian nodded as he committed the information to memory. “So what you’re telling me is to walk in there with confidence? Because in the short time that you’ve known me, I’ve displayed so much of it, right?” He chuckled dryly. He might as well have laughed at his jokes since no one else would.

Shaking his head, Adrian took comfort that at least she got the reference. It meant that she was pretty and had good taste in TV shows, which was rare. “ Pretty sure if I had to, I'd sell it for something useful like a good pair of pants or the ability to read signs on doors or a healthy dose of self-confidence or your phone number…” Adrian paused. The last bit was word vomit that he didn’t really mean to flow, but often his rambling lowered the filter between his brain and his tongue, and the result was always that he was left stunned at his own foolishness for too long to be able to cover for himself after the fact. It left him staring in disbelief for a few moments too many before he found himself nodding. “Alrighty, well, I’m gonna go now. I’m sure any minute a bus or a construction truck or something will be speeding down the road for me to throw myself in front of, so gotta go…” He smiled weakly, heading for the door before he said anything else stupid. 

Half a snort accompanied her laugh. “It’s a saying.” She tucked her hands to cross against her chest, tapping her thumb along her arm. “We is subjective, it’s..” She followed his eyes closely, blank and lost as she tried to explain herself, smile fading on one end of her mouth. “Past your time,” she waved her hand at him before tucking it back in her arms. He was still as worked up as he’d been before. She could probably reach out and touch him and still feel a tremble, like a leaf in the wind.

He seemed courteous enough with no inclination for misplaced anger which most might have in this moment of utter humiliation. “Everything’s real hard, huh?” She asked in the midst of mini-rant, deadpan with the trimmings of a sarcastic tone in her voice. She let him finish, withholding a smile for the sake of his self-esteem, nodding when he shared which higher up he has the misfortune of meeting with today.

“Well..” She sighed, moving from her place across from him to rest against the sink countertop, arms crossing themselves again as she leaned. “I am not Mr. Howard.” she sighed, looking down for a moment, kind of zoning out. “But if it’s any consolation, he’s much tamer than me and his receptionist sucks, she never writes anything down. Just,” she waved a hand at the air. “Go in there and act like you’re on time.” She looked over at him, probably the worst person in the world to provide comfort in a gaze. “Definitely go with pants, though.”

He filled the air with more words, a flowing rush of explanations. Maybe it had something to do with her face, but it was more likely that he felt the need to apologize for more than he had to be sorry for. Still, Tabitha carried an amused grin, pressing a limp hand to her chest. “Oh you’re so sweet,” she rested her hand, chuckling. “As much as I’d pay to watch that I’d rather you use that mouth for grubbing up to me.” She sized him up. “And I found you half naked in the bathroom, that’s almost prison dibs.” Another lofty sigh came from her chest. “Why not?” She shrugged, looking over at him with sympathy, breaking into another laugh. “No just the kind that lives on earth.” Her eyebrows pressed into a bunch, smile alleviating what seriousness she conveyed on her face. “What, you don’t wanna sell your soul for a pair of gap jeans?”

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Vice form leaders and others discovered yuu is a girl?

Discovering That Your a Girl | Yandere Twisted Wonderland

Trey Clover

“Oh well that’s nice.”

He doesn’t mind all that much 

With everyone taking your attention he’s often left out

But guess who is the prefect’s best buddy when you get the munchies

You’ll probably think this is just an older brother habit

And if you ever question it him and everyone else will say the same

So don’t worry about it when he gives you a whole pie but demands he spoon feed you the whole thing

Or when he punishes you by forcing you to eating the whole batch of donut holes while on his lap

If you do ever decide to struggle he pulls the big-brother card

Even if just a few minutes ago he was shoving his tongue down your throat

“No need to cry (Y/n), big brother will take care of you…Now little sis, open for me.”

Ruggie Bucci

“Dang, that's an…interesting development?”

He’s surprised, confused

A bit intimidated

After all male hyena’s are meant to respect fear their female counterparts

But during his observations he’ll realize your not like females of his kind

And in a way he feels empowered by that

Even if he witnesses an extreme sense of power from you

It all just boils down to a line of obsessive respect…that he can be casual about

Like Leona you can command a room, command him 

But your also soft when someone’s hounding him for stealing your immediate thought isn’t to beat him up

And he thinks your so cute with your weak little mouth and your reliance on him

So excuse him when he swipes your money for him to swoop in offering an extra sandwich ‘he was going to eat himself’ 

Or shopping with you to make sure you get all the best ingredients

“Isn’t it just easier that you do this with me, (Y/n)? You’d just get taken advantage of otherwise.”

Jade Leech

“This is…a delightful surprise!”

He finds your situation entertaining enough 

And you were already an enigma anyway

He loves causing hijinx and watching you struggle for order

But he also likes when your emotionally more intuitive 

Or when you speak your mind clearly to him

He…likes it?

I mean Azul knows him but he also isn’t one to excite along with him in his hobby for nature and hiking

He isn’t someone whose going to share his amazement to land things because they’re new to you too

You’re just a mystery that he wants to unravel and keep 

It isn’t bizarre to him that he begins focusing so much time and energy into you

He can play with you in so many different ways!!!

The possibilities are endless

“Will you care to spend the hike with me? I’m not smiling deviously, this is a friendly request.”

Lilia Vanrouge

“About time you revealed yourself…though I’m a little hurt I’m not the only witness to your adorableness.”

Of course he knew 

He has to know the state of the environment his prince is in anyway

But he’s very honest about how he was already keeping extra attention on you because of it

So many possibilities it's like his own personal series of a Highschool drama

But this old-fae will quickly find he doesn’t like just being an onlooker

And seeing your expressions and to hear your voice being directed at him

He really likes it

And it’d be good lesson for all the young-ins how to properly woo a woman

And wouldn’t it be a great lesson for you to see how great of a partner he is with all the great advice

“My dearest human, if you're looking for experience I’m your only option.”

[gaywalker80085]

Flat

Natasha x Reader

Genre: Smut, Fluff

Warnings: Strap-on (r giving), thigh riding, oral (r giving), top reader

A/N: I can't tell if this is good it's way harder to judge when it's from my own brain. If it's asked of me I would be willing to write another part. Halfway proof read. Also request are extremely open.

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Part 2 Side part (will also be at the bottom)

"Oh fucking fantastic!" Natasha exclaimed as she realized her tire had gone flat. She's already been having a stressful day at work and now this. The icing on the cake, she doesn't know how to change a flat.

She pulls over to the shoulder of the road and thumps her head on the steering wheel opting to just sit like that for a minute. She sits in her own silence until she hears a rumbling.

She looks and there's someone on a motorcycle pulling up behind her. "This is it, this is how I get murdered." She tries to joke despite actually being nervous. The person starts walking up to her car. They're in the stereotypical biker attire. The leather jacket the white shirt boots and jeans.

When they get to her window Natasha is getting worried. The knock gently 3 times with the knuckle of their pointer finger. Natasha rolls down the window just an inch. She puts on a small smile "Hello." Is all she manages to get out. Damn if I get murdered at least they're hot

You notice how hot she is but also her nerves and immediately try to think of a way to be less intimidating. You decide to take your helmet off. Natasha loses all brain power when you do that. "Hello miss, I was just wondering if you needed some help." You say.

Natasha knows if you're going to kill her you will if she says yes or no but there is a chance you can actually change her tire. "Um yeah if you don't mind I think one of my tires are flat." You give a smile at her willingness to let you help.

You go and start looking to see which tire it is to find it was the back drivers side. You go to your bike where you luckily had some emergency tools and got her spare out of her trunk. You take off your leather jacket and drape it over your bike.

You told her she could sit in the car or on your bike if she wanted to but she wanted to stand and watch. As you start raising the car with the jack her eyes are drawn to your arm flexing every time you pump it. You notice her staring which made you a little hopeful but decide not to say anything about it.

"So what's your name?" You ask her. "Why?" She snips back. You can see in her face she didn't mean to be like that but decide to just carry on silently. After a minute of silence she speaks up meekly "Natasha." You look over at her and it's probably the first time you've made eye contact. "Well Natasha, I'm Y/N." You reach your hand out and she shakes it softly, her cheeks and neck flushing red as she looks away to try and hide it.

You return to changing her tire making sure everything is snug. When you finish you stand up looking at your handiwork. You turn to tell her she's good to go and there's a 20 in your face. "Here, thank you." "Miss I'm not taking your money it was no trouble really." You tell her. "You have to take it and plus I would've payed much more if you hadn't helped." She puts on a pout "Please take it." You roll your eyes and swipe it from her.

"Fine but I'm not happy about it." She smiles at that and walks back to the driver's seat. You can't tell if her hips normally sway like that. With that you both pull off you speeding past her.

Ever since your interaction you can't stop thinking about her. Walking through a gas station you're broken out of your thoughts by a little kid pleading with her mother. "Please Mommy I swear I'll be good. I'll brush my teeth twice." You round the corner and see a cute redheaded girl begging for some candy. "I don't have the money on me right now I left my card at home but next time yes." You look up at that voice and see Natasha. Looking a bit stressed.

You walk up and crouch down to the girl. "Pick out whatever you want I'll buy it for you." You tell her. "Really?!" She asks excitedly. "Yeah but not too much candy or your mom might kill me." You put your fist out and she fist bumps you quickly looking at her mom for approval before running away.

You stand back up and turn around to face Natasha. "Hello Ma'am." "You didn't have to do that I have money I just forgot it." She tells you trying to look annoyed but failing. "It's really no problem I actually just ran into $20 so it wouldn't really put a dent in my wallet." She gasps at that pushing your shoulder "You can't do that you're supposed to spend that on yourself."

"It entertains me that she is so excited, so in a way I am spending it on myself." She rolls her eyes at you "Oh whatever." The little girl comes running back with chips and candy dropping things everywhere. You go behind her and pick up the trail she leaves.

You're about to pay when you feel a tug on your pants. You look down at her "Can I have a slushy too please? I couldn't reach." "Yeah come on." She grabs your hand while you walk to the slushy machine. You get her a cup and lift her up so she can point you what she wants. You fill it up for her and she squeals excitedly when you hand her the drink.

After you pay you carry the bags to their car animatedly talking to Natasha. After she gets her daughter buckled in and gets in the driver's seat you're leaning in the window still talking to her. She runs her finger along your arm and you think your clothes might be on fire. "I was wondering, do you want to go out sometime." She asks you chewing her lip.

You pull her lip from between her teeth with your thumb. "Yeah, where do you want to go." "We can go to dinner or a bar." You look at the girl in the back seat. "Alana will be at her dad's next week, we can go then." You look back at her "Okay I'm game." You give her your phone to put her number in and you text her your name. She kisses your cheek and waves you off.

You guys make plans to go out Friday night to the bar by her house. Friday comes faster than you expected. She told you to dress nice but not dress clothes. You wear jeans, a white shirt, a flannel, a chain and air forces. You get in your car to go pick her up and decide to pick her up flowers on your way there.

Once you get to her house you knock and she opens the door pretty much immediately. She's wearing a black dress and black heels. "Hi." You breathe out dumbly. She smiles noticing her effect on you. "Hey." She steps to the side for you to walk in.

Her house is nice it's a single home that's not small but also not huge. You hand her the flowers and she says thank you walking to her kitchen to put them in a vase. On the way there she sways her hips and you're so mesmerized you almost run into her when she stops.

After putting the flowers in a vase she walks up to you and pulls your chin down so you look her in the eyes. "Are you ready to go?" She asks lowly. You just nod and she walks around you and starts heading for the door. "Come on then."

You let her control the music in the car. You guys get there and have enjoyed a few drinks when Natasha stands up. You watch her expecting her to go to the bathroom or something but instead she comes and grabs your hand. "Come dance with me." And you look at her in astonishment. "Dance?! I didn't know there'd be dancing I don't know how to dance!" You exclaim and she giggles at you pulling your hand again.

"Come on it will be fun I'll show you. Plleeaaassseee." She's really pulling on you now even though you're not moving you respect her efforts. You suck it up "Fine but I will complain." She laughs and claps in celebration.

She pulls you by the hand through the sea of people until she finds a place she likes. She grabs your hands and pushes and pulls you so you twist to the beat of the music. "God you are really such a mom aren't you." You exclaim and she laughs.

Eventually she gets you to loosen up a little but and you're jumping around to the music with her. She stops dancing so you stop and just look at her. She smiles as she looks you in the eyes and slowly walks till she is right infront of you. Then she grabs you by the back of the neck so you grab her waist. She moves so her body is flush against yours and ghost her lips across yours. You chase her lips and she smiles at that and crashes her lips against yours. The kiss is a desperate one but a short time after it started it ends. You grunt in displeasure and she smiles at you grabbing your chin "I don't think you want to rip my clothes off right here right now do you." She asks. "I would." Is all you say and you start kissing her again she groans at your words and luckily no one can hear over the music.

She grabs you by the hand quickly getting your card back from the bartender and yall walk to the car. You drive back to her house with her hand on the stick shift under yours. The second y'all get there you basically teleport to open her door for her. You follow close behind on the way up to the porch.

Once she has it unlocked she pulls you in for a kiss as she opens the door and on your way in you pick her up. She squeals and smiles into the kiss and you smile too. When you get in you close the door behind you then pinning her against it, you roll your hips into hers. She moans into your mouth and starts trying to grind down onto you in chase of friction.

When air is needed you move to kiss her neck. You nip at her sensitive spots then soothe them with your tongue. Eventually the friction she was getting isn't enough so she grinds down harder. You decide to be nice and roll your hips up into hers again.

She feels a bulge this time and moans right in your ear. "Y-you're packing?" She asks and you pull back to look into her lust blown eyes and nod. She grips the hair on the back of your head and smashes your lips together. You pull away and she whines so you give her a quick peck "Is that okay with you princess." She bites her lip looking up at you through her eyelashes and nodding.

This time when you kiss you swipe your tongue across her bottom lip asking to enter which she quickly allows. She socks your tongue into her mouth and pulls away. "Bed." You're about to abide when your realize you don't know where tf her bedroom is. "I would love to take you there baby but I don't know where your bed is." She grumbles at you dragging you by the hand quickly through her house.

When you get to her room you don't even have time to look at it before she shoves you down onto the bed. She wastes no time on straddling your legs and meeting your lips with hers. She picks back up with rolling her hips onto yours but it's still not enough friction.

You take notice to her frustration and lift her off of you and she whines in displeasure. You shush her as you place her down to straddle just one of your legs. She still doesn't realize what you're doing and is getting more frustrated until you push her down by her hips onto your flexed thigh. You help her grind back and forth until she begins to do it on her own.

She grinds with fervor chasing her release. She can't maintain the kiss so you take a minute to look at her. You are completely mesmerized by the woman above you. The way her eyebrows were scrunched together and her mouth hung open with soft pants coming out of it. She felt her coil tightening and you could tell with the way her movements started to faulter

You gripped her hips again and roughly pushed her down assisting her. She moaned loudly and buried her face into your neck. "Please, can I come please?" She begged. "I wasn't going to stop you but I'm not complaining." She let out a breathy 'shut up' before she let out a guttural moan pushing her face harder into your shoulder.

You brought your hand up and ran it through her hair massaging her scalp and she let out a hum of contentment. After taking a minute to regain herself she brought her head up and started kissing you again. She moved so she was straddling both of your legs again before tearing your shirt off.

After she threw your shirt to God knows where you flipped both of you over. She let out a small gasp at your sudden movement and you laughed a little bit. You unzipped her dress and kissed your way back up her body. She held your face in her hands and kissed you gently and she whispered "Why aren't you fucking me yet?"

You gripped her throat and kissed her. You ripped her underwear off wasting no time in kissing back down her body and laying face to face with her heat. She gripped your head and pulled your face into her. You immediately licked up her slit groaning at the taste of her. You found her sensitive bud and slowly flicked your tongue over it not giving her enough to reach the edge.

"Faster." She grunted in frustration. You kept your same pace anyway and she tried to move your head faster but you resisted. After seeing you weren't going to cooperate she pulled away and you looked up in confusion. She grabbed your jaw and gently kissed you pulling you up. She then grabbed you by the throat and flipped you onto your back.

She bit your lip and tugged on it while you chased her lips. She sat up but when you tried to follow she shoved you back down. "Natasha." You said sternly when she wouldn't let you up. "Y/N" She mocked you and leaned back down in your face. "I want to come in your mouth baby why won't you let me do that?" You forgot how to breathe at that and tried to kiss her but she wouldn't let you.

She crawled up the bed until her center was hovering above your face. She just sat like that for a second until you wrapped your arms around her thighs and pulled her down onto your face. She let out a moan and gripped your hair again. This time you did what she wanted and ate her out like there was no tomorrow.

She started to tense up and she gripped the headboard. She came with a scream of your name and you lowered her onto the bed. You kissed all over her face until she was ready to kiss you back. It didn't take long for the kiss to get heated again and she reached down to unbutton your pants.

You stood up to take off your pants and your boxers and she practically flew to the foot of the bed kneeling in front of you. She grabbed the back of your neck to pull you down into a hot kiss. On of her hands went to your length and she used it to pull you forwards. She looked into your eyes while she bent down to wrap her lips around the faux cock. She maintained eye contact as she took the full length into her mouth eyes watering.

She eventually sat back up and stuck her finger through your chain pulling you forward and up the bed till she layed down. "I want this chain to dangle in my face while you fuck me until I can't think." At that you just nodded like an idiot which made her smile. She pulled you down to kiss her again and reached her hand down to pull your cock towards her entrance.

You thrusted your hips forwards slowly entering her as she easily took the whole length. She let out a long moan grabbing your shoulders so hard it felt like she'd break skin. "Move." That was all she had to say and you started with a brutal pace and force, her hips bucking trying to meet your rhythm.

You reached down to unclip her bra. The second it was off your mouth was attaching to one of the hardened peaks your hand attaching to the other. She let out a pornographic moan at all of the stimulation, her back arching her hand holding your head against her.

You could feel the hilt of the strap rubbing your clothes just the right way. For a second you worried you wouldn't last as long or longer than her but then you could feel her clenching around your piece. All she was letting out were whorish moans and desperate whimpers still desperately clawing at your back.

You start kissing and leaving marks across her breasts and chest making sure they can be covered with a shirt. Her hips started to faulter and you could feel your coil tightening. Once you knew she was really close and so were you, you said "Come with me princess." With that she let out the loudest moan of the night.

You kept a low pace riding out both of your highs. You laid your body on hers for a second before you slowly pulling out of her. She whimpered and you tried to console her "You did so good for me baby, such a good girl.".

You took off your strap and got the both of you cleaned up. You contemplated leaving not knowing if she wanted you to fully spend the night. While you were standing there weighing the outcomes you heard her sleepily speak "Why aren't you coming here."

So you're staying the night.

You get into bed beside her and lay on your back. You're laying there with your eyes closed until a hand smack you in the stomach. "Come here, cuddle me." You turn to face her and you scoot closer until her head is in your neck and you place your hand on her ass. She rested her hand on your bicep kissing the underside of your chin.

You wake up in the morning to knocking on her front door. You can hear her going down the stairs and you get up to quickly get dressed. You walk down the stairs still mostly asleep barely remembering the process of getting dressed.

You get down there just in time to see her open the door and her daughter come barreling in. Her daughter immediately runs up to you hugging your legs. "Hi." She says looking up at you. "Hi." You say softly half because you're tires half because you're trying to hear Natasha's conversion. "Look Natasha I just don't want to watch her you're her mom you should want her." Alana sits on your foot wrapping her arms and legs around you.

"Of course I want her she's my daughter but I'm just saying I haven't planned my week for this I don't have a ride to take her to school all week" You walk up and tap her shoulder she startles before looking at you putting her finger up to give her a minute. You tap her again and she whips her head back "I'll take her." You mouth and her eyes grow wide but she accepts for now.

"Fine Bruce but next time you need to give me a heads up if it's not an emergency." She says to the man. "Whatever Natasha I have plans I need to go." She closes the door and sees her daughter on your leg she gives you a hug standing there for a minute.

"I'm hungry." Is all you hear from the little girl on your leg. You look at her and back at Natasha. "Come on then you two." She says playfully rolling her eyes. You follow her to the kitchen Alana still on your leg as she giggles uncontrollably.

Natasha stares at you two for a second smiling at the scene. She really hopes you become a frequent fixture in their life.

Part 2 Side part

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