#he just saves that side of him for justice and occasionally the bedroom

[ridiasfangirlings]

Hello! I have recently taken a...large interest in your Dark AU much to my own guilty pleasure. And not so recently (More like the first time he showed up. Albeit if even for just a second.) An interest *cough* obsession *cough* with Akiyama Himori :D (and to an equal extent Fushimi/Akiyama)

Anyways...I was wondering what S4's *cough* Fushimi, Munakata, and Benzai *cough* (Man...I should invest in cough drops 😅) thought on if a strain swapped Dark!Akiyama and Canon!Akiyama. (I'm still curious as to what all of S3's reactions would be? If you had to pick and choose I would say Saru, Munakata, and Benzai are the ones I wanna hear about most as well as maybe Seri?) So what Dark AU thinks of Normal!Akiyama and what Normal!S4 think of Dark Akiyama 🤔

(Some AkiFushi would be nice 🤏)

And on a side note. What sort of freaky foursome bs do Aki, Saru, Benzai, and Misaki get up to in the Dark au... I'm just thinking of Akiyama getting an obsession with Fushimi, Benzai going along with Aki, Fushimi liking this...unexpected side of Aki while being able to make Yata jealous, and Yata thinking about killing people. (Probably not accurate- but it was running through my head....so I suppose it needed to be said somewhere)

Somehow I imagine Dark S4 not even realizing that they have normal Akiyama because he normally hides his scary yandere side so it's like of course Akiyama's seeming so sweet and pleasant he's always like that, let's not antagonize him or he might cave our heads in with a tire iron. Like imagine a Strain switches the two of them and when Akiyama realizes he's in the Dark AU he just does his best to try and act like he belongs here. He quickly learns that his Dark self is a very sweet and kind person who is also unreasonably scary when needed so he just does his best to avoid situations where his Dark self would normally be murdering people. He does find out that his Dark self has an obsession with Fushimi and that Fushimi encourages it as a way of making Yata jealous, so now Akiyama has to try and seem interested in Fushimi (which isn't hard because he is interested in Fushimi but in his world's Fushimi, and it's hard seeing the person he cares about be twisted into this state).Though I imagine that while Dark Benzai is supportive of Akiyama's activities he's also fairly jealous himself, so Akiyama has to navigate Dark Yata trying to kill him, Dark Fushimi flirting with him and Dark Benzai being possessive of him, all while remaining as polite and proper as possible and trying to make everyone think that no really if you make me mad I'll destroy you (this is where his Dom side would come in handy, except Dark Akiyama is more twisted yandere than Dom so even using his best commanding officer voice makes Dark S4 suspicious).

Meanwhile Dark Akiyama has landed in normal S4 world and say normal K world is aware of the Dark AU so they know where Dark Akiyama's from but they don't know what his personality is like. He's initially chained up and taken to S4's prison, Benzai decides to check on him and is so confused because how can this be Dark Akiyama when he seems so kind and soft spoken? If anything Benzai feels like this Akiyama is maybe a little too timid, like Benzai knows Akiyama has a strong side and that when he gets impolite Akiyama can even be very scary, while this Akiyama is almost shrinking back into himself.

Munakata I think would be the suspicious one, when Benzai mentions his concerns Munakata decides to speak with Dark Akiyama himself. Maybe Fushimi shows up while Munakata is trying to talk with Dark Akiyama and Dark Akiyama gets very excited seeing Fushimi-san, he just really loves Fushimi-san. Fushimi raises an eyebrow and Munakata is like I see, so you are fond of Fushimi-kun. Dark Akiyama smiles angelically and says that just seeing Munakata standing so close to Fushimi makes Akiyama want to beat Munakata with a brick until he's unrecognizable. Fushimi chokes a little at that, like he knows normal Akiyama isn't as sweet as he seems but this is definitely extreme. Munakata notes that this must be Akiyama's dark counterpart after all, and makes sure they double security (he also suggests that Fushimi not come down here again and Dark Akiyama really doesn't like that, suddenly getting this ominous terrifying look as he says that it isn't nice to take Fushimi away from him).

[santacarlatourism]

JD x Kevin x Reader Reading/Book Headcanons

J.D.

Musical J.D. is canonically a Baudelaire-quoting bad boy, and I think movie J.D. would honestly enjoy Baudelaire’s work too. I know this because I’ve made an entire Google doc about the things I think J.D. would enjoy reading.

Aside from Baudelaire I think he would also enjoy e. e. cummings and-- ironically enough given the Heather Chandler situation-- Sylvia Plath. I think that he enjoys reading her because her poetry about her depression and suicide, like “Lady Lazarus,” is something he’d read to try and make sense of his mom’s death and it would help him feel more connected to her in some ways.

On the non-poetry side of things I think he reads a lot of philosophy. He reads Nietzche and Foucault and draws... interesting conclusions from their works. Maybe fuels his god complex along the way. I think he’d also enjoy The Catcher in the Rye, duh, and also Steinbeck’s Travels with Charley.

He’s definitely a philosophy bro. I definitely think that should J.D. have gone to college he would have ended up majoring in philosophy or English simply because i think he would have taken a lot of classes in those two, needed to declare a major, and saw that credits wise those would make the most sense for him.

Overall J.D. is someone who enjoys reading and enjoys feeling smart and superior to the Kurts and Rams of the world so you very often will see him with a book in his hand.

He’s tried to get Kevin interested in his books a couple of times, but he’s largely given up. J.D. is a quick learner and he quickly picked up that trying to make Kevin interested in something was a futile task.

Still, that does not save Kevin from having to listen to J.D. break down random philosophical theories and it’s always unclear if Kevin is somewhat appreciative of how smart J.D. is, or if he’s considering choking him. J.D. assumes it’s the former as he hasn’t been choked yet.

If you like to read though, he loves to discuss books with you. He is the type that literally cannot read anything and “just enjoy” it everything is going to get analysis even if that analysis is utterly trashing it if he disliked it.

Will always take your book recommendations but won’t always finish them if they don’t interest him

Kevin Khatchadourian

The only thing you are going to catch this guy reading of his own volition is Robin Hood

It‘s not just that he found the act of writing school essays about books trite and boring, but he finds reading-- when not for a specific purpose-- boring as well. He’ll read internet articles about hacking and he’ll occasionally read books with very disturbing contents but you won’t often find him simply reading for pleasure or relaxation like you’ll find J.D.

He does, however, enjoy watching J.D. read to you. You with your head in J.D.’s lap, trying to act like you don’t notice the way J.D.’s tone gets a bit more invested when he’s reading about murder and vigilante justice. The way you squirm is something he enjoys much more than reading most books.

One day, if you’re sick, and just so happen to be sick when Kevin is in a good mood, you may wake up to find him entering the bedroom with his copy of Robin Hood, which he starts reading to you with zero explanation. It’s always hard to tell Kevin’s motivation for anything, but you’d like to think that it’s a very rare glimpse into the fact that he does care about you (and J.D.) in his own certain way.

[ragingbookdragon]

The Start of Something Great

Outlaws x Tamaranean!Reader

Word Count: 2.5K Warnings: Explicit Language, Mentions of Violence and Past Abuse

Author's Note: So this is technically the start of all those One-Shots with the T!Reader. In order, they are the one you're reading right now, then this one, this one, and this one. Enjoy! -Thorne

**********************************************************************

She watched the group socialize from her position in the corner; she’d never been out and open like Kori was. She’d always preferred to watch in silence, to observe…the years she spent captive, formed her mindset of watching and waiting for moments of weakness. Speaking of Kori, she watched her step into the room with Dick; their hands tightly clasped together.

Fighting a laugh, she glanced out the window, turning her attention to the waves as they crashed against the rocks below the tower. She wondered why she was here. She wasn’t a part of the Titans…not really. Her animosity towards leniency on justice put her at odds with just about everyone within the group, and especially the Justice League. Well, except for Diana; the Amazon was the only one who truly understood her reasoning.

But as for letting criminals go free? It didn’t happen. Rarely ever, did (Y/N) allow a criminal to walk away from her, and her mind drifted to the memory of her first mission with the Titans.

***

She stepped out of the smoldering hole in the warehouse wall and strode to the criminal crawling from her. Placing her foot square between his pelvis and spine, she stepped down with all her strength and listened to his spine crack under the strain. He let out a bloodcurdling scream and she rolled him over with her foot, glaring down at him, watching as he begged.

“Please!”

A white hot star-bolt formed in her hand and she raised it, speaking coldly. “The women you assaulted and killed did not want to die either.”

The man began to cry as she flung the bolt, watching his body incinerate, and turn to ash; she turned and began walking away, ignoring the concerned look from her sister, and the angry looks from her teammates.

They hadn’t even gotten five feet into the tower when Dick was on her like a beast to a fresh kill. “What the hell was that, (Y/N)?”

She glowered, warning him darkly, “Watch how you speak to me, Richard. I am not Kori. And you should believe me when I tell you that what I feel for you is nothing short of loathing. And loathing is quick to turn deadly should I be pushed.” (Y/N) turned to leave when he moved in front of her again.

“It doesn’t matter what you feel! You owe us an explanation!” He shot back.

She barked a cold laugh. “I owe you nothing, least of all an explanation.”

“You murdered him!”

(Y/N) narrowed her gaze. “And the point you are trying to make is?”

Dick threw his hands into the air. “It was wrong!”

“Was what he did to those innocent women also wrong?” she countered and he all but recoiled.

“Of course! But that doesn’t—”

“But nothing. He was a despicable criminal, and he deserved to die for his crimes.” (Y/N) turned around and began walking to the door.

“We aren’t executioners, Kiyahnd’r.” Dick admonished.

She froze in her spot and glanced over her shoulder, her eyes frosty towards them. “Perhaps not you, Richard. But you were not raped and beaten repeatedly as a young child.” Her gaze narrowed. “My justice is absolute in the face people who do the same thing that was done to me and my sisters. Never forget that.”

***

(Y/N) blinked, dragging herself from the memory; it hadn’t been long after that, that she found herself tangled in combat with the Justice League. Apparently, she had held out against them far longer than anyone ever had, managing to overpower The Flash and Martian Manhunter. She had almost defeated Batman when Wonder Woman and Superman intervened, subduing her. That was a fun day for (Y/N), and she remembered how Batman had made her concede killing people…mostly anyway.

The years had been decent to her and she came to terms with her life, even branching out into modeling like Kori did. They ruled the runways. But the “lone wolf” style she’d developed while in captivity still ruled her, and she found it increasingly hard to keep continuing the team. They had all gathered in the room, and she rose from her seat.

Immediately, the talking stopped as everyone turned to stare at her; Dick smiled at her from his seat, Kori perched herself across his thighs. “You alright, (Y/N)?” She met his eyes before moving to the table and setting down a small metal piece. It clinked and their eyes moved to it, as Dick questioned, “What’s that?”

“You know what it is, Richard.”

He glanced over, looking at the item, and took in the realization of what it was. “Your key to the tower?”

(Y/N) nodded. “As of now, I formally relinquish my role as a Titan.” Ignoring the shocked gasps and stares, she continued. “I will be leaving at dusk.” (Y/N) made her way to the door. “Thank you…and goodbye.” She didn’t wait for their replies, moving to her bedroom.

She closed the door and sat beside the window, occasionally glancing at her packed bag. (Y/N) had money saved up over the years, from odd jobs to her professional modeling career worldwide and she still had big money rolling into her bank account from other various sources. She would be alright; she just needed to find a place to live on her own and thrive.

A knock tore her from her thoughts, and she turned to the door. “Enter.” In walked Kori and Dick, and she sighed knowingly. “Delivering the parting words?”

“Kiyahnd’r…are you sure you want to leave?”

(Y/N) rolled her eyes. “Very.”

They sat down on her bed, a couple feet away, and Dick leaned forward. “You don’t have to leave, (Y/N).”

“I am aware,” she noted. “but this is something that I want to do.”

“Why Kiyahnd’r?”

(Y/N)’s eyes flitted to Kori. “Because this is not where I belong.”

“Don’t say that, (Y/N). You—”

She raised a hand. “Do not try and cushion the blow, Richard.” She rose and stared out the window. “It has been plain to see all these years that you all will never trust me.” (Y/N) glanced at Dick. “Or accept me onto your team.”

Dick went silent, and Kori nudged him. “Say something.”

“What do you want me to say? She’s kinda right.”

“Dick!”

(Y/N) stopped Kori. “Do not be angry at him, Koriand’r. Richard is right.” She paused. “I am not you Koriand’r…I allow my past to define how I live my life.” Her eyes moved to her sister’s, and a hint of sorrow crossed her tone. “I cannot let go of our pasts. It will haunt me forever, and I need to find my own path…away from this place.”

The two of them went silent, then Dick said, “If you don’t have anywhere to go…Jason’s been in need of a partner lately.”

(Y/N) scoffed. “That moronic imbecile? Certainly not.”

Dick snickered as Kori sighed. “Jason is not stupid, sister.”

“Truly? There have been a few times where he has fooled me.”

Kori sighed again, as Dick rose from the bed, moving to (Y/N). “Look…I know you think I don’t like you—”

“You do not like me.”

Dick rolled his eyes and corrected, “Wrong, Miss Know-It-All. I happen to like you very much. In fact—”

(Y/N) cut him off, turning to Kori. “Be cautious sister, you apparently have competition for Richard’s affections.” Kori and (Y/N) giggled as Dick raised his hands in exasperation.

He marched to the door with them still raised. “I give up! I came in here to wish you goodbye and good luck, and this is what I receive!” He was almost out the door when (Y/N) pulled him back, spinning him around to pull him in for a brief but heartfelt hug.

She pulled away and glanced at him. “For all you have done for me…and for all the times you have tried to help me…thank you, Richard.”

He grinned up at her and squeezed her round her middle. “See…you love me after all.”

(Y/N) rolled her eyes and picked up her bags. “Do not push it Dick. You still anger me.”

“You aren’t the first person to tell me that.” Dick shrugged.

She snorted and moved to the door, stopping and glancing at them. “And I most certainly will not be the last.”

***

The flight to Gotham City was quiet, and she remembered the first time she arrived.

***

The portal opened and she fell through it, still fighting off the Psions who followed her. They crash-landed into a building, and the rubble was lit up like the sun as she threw star-bolts at them. The fighting lasted for a few minutes, and in the end, she stood victorious among the scattered body parts. Her mind raced as she tried to remember where her sister had gone, and the next thing she realized, a Psion was on her back.

She cursed in her native tongue as it clawed at her, and gathered energy into her palm to kill it when it flew off her, landing a good distance away. She rolled to her side and coughed; a hand appeared in her vision, and she looked up to see a man in black standing over her.

His lips moved, and she knew words were coming out, but it sounded like gibberish. The hand extended towards her more, and she took it, allowing him to help her stand. He kept speaking and she rolled her eyes, reaching out and grabbing his face; she brought their lips together, and words and languages flowed through her mind.

She released him and he simply gaped at her, too stunned to move; she snorted. “Apologies. My race learns by psychophysically connecting with one another. The most effective way is through oral contact.”

“…You just learned to speak English from kissing me?”

She nodded. “Is that what you call it? English? What a strange name it is.” The corner of his mouth rose, and she stood up straight. “I am Kiyahnd’r of…well…it does not matter.” She paused. “My name is Kiyahnd’r.”

He nodded. “I’m Batman.”

***

(Y/N) felt the corners of her mouth raise at the memory; it had been a very long time since she’d thought about it, and it reminded her of how lucky she’d been to learn the languages from Bruce. Kori only received a small amount from Dick; (Y/N) had received twenty-three different dialects, all fluently. The fleeting memories lasted only so long, and the plane began to ascend, signaling her arrival.

She stepped off of the plane and made her way to the baggage claim, picking up her bag and moving to the doors when she saw a familiar man. (Y/N) stared as he walked towards her.

He stopped in front of her and smirked. “Need a ride, doll?”

She rolled her eyes. “Dick called you then.”

“Called a few hours ago saying you were leaving the Titans and coming to find me and Roy.”

(Y/N) scoffed. “I was coming to Gotham. I was not coming to see the both of you.” She glared at him.

“Sticks and stones, (Y/N).”

“Go crawl into a bush, Jason.”

His hand curled around the handle of her suitcase and he lifted it, nodding his head to the door. “Car’s outside.” Jason moved forward, and (Y/N) was left with no choice but to follow him. She watched as he put her suitcase in the trunk, then turned to her. “You hungry?”

“Are you going to cook?”

Jason paused as he was getting in the driver’s door; he looked at her, an eyebrow raised. “Do you want me to cook?”

She moved to sit in the passenger seat. “So long as you make something good.”

He grinned as he sat in the seat, starting the car. “I always make good food.”

(Y/N) let out a ‘hmpf’. “We shall see.”

***

The drive to his apartment was slow and when they arrived, the sun was setting low beyond the skyline. They climbed the stairs and entered his apartment; (Y/N) hummed. “I wasn’t sure that your apartment would be as tidy as it is. It is rather shocking.”

Jason grunted as he moved into the kitchen, pulling out pans from the cabinets. “Sorry doll, the role of messy Robin is Tim.” He paused and glanced at her. “And sometimes, Dick…but mostly Timmy.”

(Y/N) snorted and motioned to her bag. “Where should I put my things?”

Jason nodded down the hallway. “Second door on your right. I changed the sheets and cleaned it, so you should be happy.”

She said nothing and walked to the bedroom. It was a little dull for her tastes, but nothing she couldn’t fix with a trip to the department store and IKEA. She walked back out and sat at the bar, watching Jason cook for them. When he was finished, they sat out on the balcony sharing a bottle of wine.

(Y/N) swallowed it, gagging, “Earth wine is disgusting.”

“Wine’s a peculiar taste,” he snorted, taking a sip. “You have to get used to it.”

She grunted and replied, “I do not want to be used to it. It tastes like…I do not even know what it tastes like. All I know is that it is disgusting.”

“You’re just a Debbie-Downer, aren’t you, (Y/N)?”

“I do not know what that is but I can tell it is not positive.”

“Nevermind.” Jason chuckled and they lapsed into a comfortable silence, eating their dinner, and when they were finished, they climbed to the roof and watched the stars; Jason leaned over. “So, why did you leave the Titans?”

(Y/N) sighed quietly, murmuring, “I did not want to be within their company any longer.”

He eyed her. “And?”

“And I did not want to be ostracized anymore.” (Y/N) inhaled. “I am not Kori. She was accepted easily within the Titans because she is kind and sweet. But I? No…I was never one to be accepted. My attitude and stance on how I deal with criminals was not something the Titans were too keen on keeping.”

Jason listened silently, then tipped his head. “Dick told you to come find me then?”

She shrugged. “More or less.” (Y/N) glanced at him. “I assume he had an inkling that because we are so similar in our mindsets on criminals that we would get along and be able to work together.”

“Red Hood, Arsenal, and Supernova,” Jason grinned. “It’s got a great ring to it.”

(Y/N) rolled her eyes. “I regret this decision already.”

He scooted closer and slung an arm around her shoulders, ignoring the way she growled low in her throat. “Don’t be like that, doll…we’re gonna make a kick-ass team.”

(Y/N) opened her mouth to retort when a light shone in the sky; she glanced at Jason, tipping her head to it. “Well…let us go and show what a team we will make.” She rose, holding out a hand. “Shall we, Red Hood?”

Jason glanced at her hand before taking it, smirking. “Hell yeah.”

[cherriesfineline]

savior next door

im on a writing trance so expect a lot of writings from me hehe, here's what i wrote last night, enjoy besties.

- fluff & a tiny little bit of smut (not really lol) | not proofread, sorry

Pairing: HarryxY/N

WC: 3.8k

the one where Harry is Y/N's shy and virgin neighbor.

The constant feeling of uneasiness has been haunting Harry ever since he almost got himself in a car accident almost a year ago.

It hadn’t been his fault – he was crossing a random street in a quiet area of New York when a hand grabbed his upper arm and pushed him out of the crosswalk, where a car speeded through without even slowing down. “Watch where you’re going, you’re going to get yourself killed.” The woman who’d saved his life scolded at him with a worrying look on her face. He remembers her eyes were glowing in such a splendor, something he’d never seen before – it intrigued him to know who his life savior was, but before he could even make a comment, the woman stormed off and got lost between the seas of people around the corner, leaving Harry in an unsuccessful search for her.

Harry has never been a people person. He always avoids big crowds, social events and especially, study groups. His university journey so far has been a lonely and reserved one, having movie marathons when not studying or discovering new kinds of herbal teas. His only form of social interaction is the occasional chat with his across-the-hall neighbor Niall, whom he considered -kind of- a close friend; his only one, in fact.

“Heard someone’s moving in to the flat next to yours.” Niall knows Harry isn’t exactly a social butterfly, and maybe it’s the fact that Harry is younger than him and how he seems like such a harmless human what makes him feel like he needs to help him. Harry just shrugs at his comment, not really interested in any possible intruder to their peaceful hallway (where both their apartments and the currently empty one in the corner were the only three ones on their floor). And maybe it was the fact that it has been almost a month since Niall’s comment what made him furious when he saw the cardboard boxes on their hallway, forgetting about the possibility of having a new neighbor.

The sudden sound of glass crashing and a loud yell snaps Harry out of his frustrated trance, stepping around the huge boxes scattered around the door next to his to knock on the doorway of the open door. Even if he really isn’t very fond of having a new neighbor that doesn’t mean he’s not going to check on them to see if they’ve gotten hurt. “Is everything alright?” He still can’t see whoever is inside, but he decides on waiting if no one replies to step inside. But he doesn’t need to, because as he was about to make his way inside, a head pops up from one side of the entry hallway, assuming that’s where the kitchen is, as he notices the apartment is a replica of his own, but inverted.

“Hey, sorry, just dropped my favorite cup.” His breath gets caught on his throat when her life savior’s face appears in sight, the cutest frown adorning her features and her sweet voice resonating through his brain. Her eyes, exactly like he remembers shine with an unbeatable glow, like a thousand diamonds under a microscope, but the image he had of her on his brain doesn’t make her justice – she is even more beautiful than he remembers. “I’m Y/N, nice to meet you. You live in this floor?” Harry can’t help but be disappointed at the fact that apparently she doesn’t remember him.

“Y-yes, next door. H-harry.” He stutters. Her presence just makes him so nervous, he can’t help it. She is probably one of, if not the, most beautiful woman he’s ever laid eyes on. Her eyes are hypnotizing, the softness of them which appears to be constant warms his insides and he thinks he could spend hours upon hours staring right at them.

“Do I know you? I feel like I know you.” Y/N’s thinks out loud, her expression alluding to her thoughts trying to place him somewhere in her memories.

“Uh, I- I don’t think so?” Harry feels embarrassed, so he couldn’t come up with a better answer. He is silently hoping she doesn’t remember the time they met all that time ago – this is his chance, he thinks, to redeem himself, for her to see him as a normal dude instead of this clumsy and shy boy who couldn’t even thank her when she saved him from being ran over by a car.

He wishes he could read her mind. What’s her first impression on him? Does she think he’s cute? She probably doesn’t. He thinks she’s too pretty to even spare a second glance at someone like him; a shy boy with bad posture and still breaking out in his forehead despite being 22. And she, Y/N, a woman who could make anyone her own, a woman who probably makes every head turn her way when entering a room. Harry feels his chest deflate as his thoughts start beating him up.

During the course of her first two months living next door, Y/N and Harry barely interact. He keeps stealing glances her way whenever they run into each other in the hallway, getting shy and cheeks reddening when she catches him every time. He gets jealous whenever he hears her walking down the hallway from inside his apartment, obvious guests coming in and out of her apartment – and if the person (because he recalls hearing both men and women) is good enough, he can even hear her sometimes through the thin wall that divides their bedrooms, her headboard clearly mirroring his. He feels dirty and intrusive during nights like these, so he opts on putting headphones on, music playing in his phone to help him drift off to sleep.

But Y/N is fascinated by him, maybe not as much as he is with her, but enough to wonder how it’d be like to reallyhave him in her life. She knows he’s a very reserved man, her animated chats with Niall more usual than not drift towards Harry and how she wishes he’d just keep looking at her when she catches his eye instead of running away – not because her ego is enormous or anything, but she is aware of the obvious crush Harry has on her. “He’s not going to start conversation, you should just go for it.” She remembers Niall told her one night after having a small chat in his threshold; because all Niall wants is for Harry to put himself out there, but he knows he needs a little extra push.

But it all changes one night. A night Y/N drinks more than usual – shot after shot going down her throat making her feel nothing but dizzy, the sensation of puke going up her throat forcing her to call it a night. Barely making it out of the elevator she stumbles on her way to her door, and Harry hears her. The sound her combat books make is so engraved in Harry’s brain he knows it’s her after just a couple of steps.

“Fuck.” Harry hears the unmistakable sound of her keys, and how she’s clearly struggling to fit them inside the lock. After a loud banging sound and what sounds like her sliding down the door, he starts worrying about her and how she’s probably not going to make it inside her apartment without a little help. So he steps outside after sliding his old white vans on to find her on the floor leaning against her door, legs bent and elbows resting on either knee supporting her head.

“Y/N?” He calls her in a whisper. She shoots her head up immediately making her insides turn, and with unfocused eyes, she looks up at him and smiles fondly.

“Hey, pretty boy.” She greets him with a soft smile, eyes closing and opening again slowly and Harry feels his stomach erupt in a thousand butterflies. Did she just call him pretty boy?

“You need help?”

“Please.” Harry’s red cheeks don’t go unnoticed by her the moment she lifts her hand to give him her keys and she honestly thinks he might explode. He helps her get up and guides her inside her home with such gentle movements she could melt in his hold, and that’s when she decides (drunk out of her mind) she wants him to hold her again, soon. And while sober.

He lays her down in her bed and announces he’s going to take her shoes off, giving her enough time to object. “I always catch you staring, you know?” Her thoughts slip off her lips unannounced, but she doesn’t really care. Harry, on the other hand, freezes in his spot, one of her shoes still in hand and with wide eyes he connects their gazes for the second time that night.

“I- I… I’m sorry- I don’t mean to be c-creepy or anything I j-just-“

“Shh.” She cuts him off, his stuttering making its first appearance of the night. “Didn’t say I don’t like it.” She confesses and wiggles her feet so he can resume his actions. Harry’s brain is betraying him more than usual right now. His thoughts are everywhere, not a single coherent answer coming to mind, so he doesn’t do anything but finish helping her out of her shoes in silence.

“Goodn-night, Y/N.” Harry left her apartment that night after carefully placing a soft blanket over her body and making sure she had a glass of water on her nightstand (he didn’t want to snoop around her apartment for some pills for her hangover, so he just left her with the duty of doing that herself in the morning) and laid in bed with so many thoughts running through his head he barely got an hour of sleep that night.

And that went on for a week. Knowing she was sleeping on the other side of the wall makes him more nervous than before now that he knows Y/N is aware of his constant staring – but who would blame him? She really is a sight for sore eyes. Y/N knocks on his door the following Saturday, and he opens it surprised to find her on the other side, mainly because she’s usually out with her friends by now every Saturday (not that he’s constantly waiting to hear her walk on their hallway, but he truly is always sitting on his living room and the thin walls of their apartment complex don’t provide them much privacy).

“Harry, hi.” She offers him the sweetest smile, but there’s a shy and nervous undertone to it this time. “I just wanted to thank you, for helping me the other night.” She clasps her hands together in front of her and nods with a tight lipped smile. “But I also want to apologize, I know I probably made you uncomfortable with uh, some comments I made.” She slightly scrunches her nose, waiting for his reply.

But Harry is, in simple words, speechless. He can’t believe there’s a sober Y/N who just knocked on his door willingly talking to him. Her voice sounds so melodic and Harry just wants to cuddle her and the giant, soft looking green sweater she’s wearing isn’t helping him ease his thoughts. He wants Y/N to hold him while she talks to him with that sweet voice of hers, he wants to hold her small hands and fill her cheeks and mouth with kisses along with every inch of her body -not that she’d ever let him, Harry thought, but a boy can dream-, but most importantly, he wants to learn every single detail about her. How she likes her coffee in the mornings, or if she prefers tea. In which position she sleeps the most comfortable in and if there’s any TV shows she re-watches just because it brings her comfort. He has so many questions he wants to ask her he completely forgets they’d been standing in his threshold for long minutes, with him just staring at her.

“It’s ok, don’t worry.” He says barely above a whisper, and they stay in their positions for a while, again with no words spoken between them, until he finally gains enough courage to ask, “Do you want to come in?” He opens his door a bit wider with a wary look on his face. Y/N nods, her smile widens and makes her eyes sparkle with that glow Harry is still fascinated by.

They sit in the couch with a long distance between them; farther away from the other than any of them like. Y/N does most of the talking, but she truly doesn’t mind – she talks animatedly about this new show Bridgerton she binge watched last night, Harry making mental notes about most things she says. He wants to remember everything, from the way her voice slightly sharpens when she mentions something she suddenly remembers to the way she moves her hands to accompany her speech; he already loves how expressive she is with her face features, and only confirms how he’d listen to her speak for the rest of his life.

Y/N manages to get more words out of him than she expected, and asks for his opinion or thoughts on most things she mentions. She hates making conversation purely about herself, she wants to know about Harry as much as she can. She wishes he would initiate conversation or switch topics with no shame, but she knows she’s asking for too much. This night alone they interacted more than the last three months combined, and Y/N is grateful for it.

Three chapters of FRIENDS had passed when she finds herself scooting a bit closer to him, carefully trying to read his body language. When he stiffens in his position, she turns her head to look at him. His cheeks are tinted a cute shade of pink, and he’s blinking a lot more than he usually does. He places both hands on his thighs and runs them up and down to get rid of the sweat accumulating on them, and he can’t help but gasp when their thighs touch, meaning she scooted even closer. As if that isn’t enough to kill him, she softly rests her head on his shoulder.

“Is this ok?” Y/N whispers, and he forces himself to turn his head to find her eyes, which are already looking up at him. He slowly nods and makes the dumb mistake of looking down at her lips. He feels the hot embarrassment run up his neck and quickly turns to face his TV again, planning on pretending nothing ever happened.

That is, until he feels the soft skin of her palm and gentle fingers grab his jaw, forcing his gaze back on her. That touch alone makes him feel more than any other human has made him feel in his entire life – but it doesn’t compare to the eruption of jitteriness washing through him when her eyes look down at his lips.

“Can I kiss you?” Harry freezes in his spot. He wonders if he heard her correctly, not believing his senses when around her, the possibility of her wanting to kiss him are too low, he thinks, and when he doesn’t respond, she slowly begins to remove her hand from his face, taking a guess on his unspoken rejection. He, for once, reacts quickly enough; he grabs her by her wrist, placing her hand back again in its spot on his jaw, and works enough courage to just go for it. Harry lowers his face to gently envelope her top lip between his own. It’s quick but sweet (just like she had expected their first kiss to be, if she’d ever got lucky enough to experience it) and when he moves away just enough to separate her lips, she wastes no time in connecting them again. This time, the kiss is longer and with more determination than before, and when Harry feels Y/N melt into him, he gains enough confidence to grab her face with both of his hands, deepening the kiss.

They stay enveloped in each other for a while, mouths molding and moving in sync with so many unspoken emotions it feels overwhelming for both – they barely know each other, they’re very aware of it, but the undeniable infatuation they both feel is stronger than they’d ever admit. Y/N feels on her face the long exhale that leaves through Harry’s nose when she softly traces his bottom lip with the tip of her tongue, and when he meets her tongue with his, the mood that was settled between them switches drastically – from sweet and innocent to needy and passionate.

Harry isn’t very experienced with kissing, let alone with anything past first base. He’d only made out with a girl all the way back in high school during his senior prom, and the girl was so harsh and desperate Harry knew that moment he wouldn’t ever share an intimate moment with anyone again unless he truly felt something for them. Now, he knows it might seem like he’s rushing things in his heart, but he’d do anything with and for Y/N – but he knows he’s not ready just yet.

His nervousness consumes him again when she moves to straddle his lap, making him whimper at the new position. He shakily places his hands next to her legs on the couch, not sure what is too much and what is ok to do. She runs her hands from his jaw down to his shoulders, and moves them all the way down his arms to his hands, giving them a soft squeeze before placing them on her waist and sliding her own back up again towards his neck, never breaking the kiss.

He unintentionally lets a second whimper leave his mouth when she sits herself down on his lap, creating some friction between their groins. He knows he’s hard – he felt his dick grow in his pants the second she touched his jaw, but knowing Y/N could feel it now put him a tad on edge. He separates their lips; their agitated breathing mixing in between them.

“I- I’ve never…” Harry begins, but he’s having a hard time finding the correct words. Y/N understands almost immediately – she’s not proud to admit she had figured he was unexperienced, feeding the stereotype of shy-ergo-virgin, even though she was correct this time.

“We won’t do anything you don’t want to,” Y/N gives him a soft peck and continues, “you can say no, but I’d love to make you feel good, if you’d let me. We can keep our clothes on.” Y/N suggests. If she has to be honest, she hasn’t dry-humped anyone since high school, but the thought of doing it with Harry lights her insides in animalistic flames.

When Harry timidly nods, she shakes her head with her eyebrows raised in a disapproving look, “Use your words, H.”

“I- I want you to- to do it. I- I trust you.” His stuttering makes Y/N’s insides warm, the fact that she makes him nervous amuses her – she’s certain she’s never made anyone this nervous before, but it is the fact that Harry admitted he trusts her what sends shivers down her spine. All she does in response is roll her hips against his – and when he closes his eyes with a pleasured groan leaving his lips, she does it again. Harry’s grip on her waist lowers to her hips, squeezing the flesh that was subtly beginning to get exposed from all the movement, and when he throws his head back Y/N takes advantage of his exposed neck to finally attach her lips to it. Her hold on one side of his face moves to grip his jaw, turning his head slightly to the side so she can suck on the sweet spot behind his ear still rolling her hips on his, and when she pokes the spot with her tongue to soothe the pleasuring sting, he unconsciously thrusts his hips up to meet hers; Y/N can’t help but smile and leave a trail of sweet, wet kisses from his new deepening bruise to the place where his neck meets his shoulders, repeating her actions there to leave a second bruise.

Harry feels his cock twitch in his pants when Y/N rolls her hips with more pressure, and they both know he’s close - his inexperience making him not last longer than a couple of minutes. “Are you going to cum for me?” Y/N asks him, holding his jaw tightly to keep his gaze on hers, and when he shyly nods she adds, “I want you to look at me when you do it.”

Harry can’t believe what’s going on – he has the most beautiful woman in the word on top of him about to make him cum, and he’s sure he’s going to come so hard he’ll probably have to throw his briefs into the trash. Her gaze staring so intensely into his eyes is what makes his insides finally explode, his eyes seeing white for a moment – with his mouth open ajar and glossy eyes he feels the large amount of cum spurting from his cock, making a mess inside his pants. The pleasure and fullness he feels during this moment is something he has never experienced before, never thinking he would surrender this fast over someone else’s actions. Y/N slows her movements but doesn’t stop for a while, allowing him to empty his insides until he hisses at the friction. Harry hugs her lower back to pull her closer to him, and Y/N lets her head drop to his shoulder so they can both catch their breaths.

They stay like that for a while, hugging each other with Y/N running her hand softly through his chocolate curls and Harry tracing small circles on the small of her back.

“You saved me from a car accident, a year or so ago.” Harry confesses – the pure bliss he’s feeling makes him dizzy and unaware of his words.

“I know. I remember.” Y/N confesses herself, and when Harry’s soft caresses stop at her back, she removes her head from the warm spot on his neck to look at him in the eyes, finding a confused frown in his eyebrows and lips in a small pout – she kisses him soft and quickly, not being able to contain herself. “I figured you either didn’t remember or didn’t bring it up for a reason, so I chose to not mention it.” She shudders and gives him a soft smile.

“Was embarrassed, still am.” Harry whispers with red cheeks, and Y/N’s laugh resonates through his living room, and if he wasn’t already obsessed with her, her laugh completes his way there.

“So cute.” She pecks his lips. “Can’t believe it took us this long to… talk.” Another peck. A knowing look on her face knowing damn well they did more than talking.

“You are too pretty. And intimidating. Can’t even walk in front of you without tripping over my own feet.” Y/N giggles at his confession, finding him even more amusing.

“Do you want to go on a date tomorrow?” Y/N asked, not being able to wait another day to ask. Harry feels his cheeks hurting from all the smiling, but he is too content in this moment.

“I’d love to.”

x

As always, feedback is truly appreciated,

love, Joey.

[soulmate-game]

Well that happened.

B!dbwm 2020

Day 6: Meeting the Justice League

Marinette paced in her bedroom in Wayne Manor, running her hands through her hair as Damian laid on her bed and played animal crossing while completely ignoring her freakout. 

“Dami, how did I get myself into this mess?!” she asked, frantically pulling at her pigtails. Her brother snorted, rolling his eyes unsympathetically. 

“You never use your brain until after you’ve already made important decisions,” he responded ruthlessly. “All of your mental capacity goes towards planning out completely inane things like birthday parties and actually caring about what our even more idiotic class thinks about you, so when you actually need it you don’t have any intelligence left to spare.” 

Marinette turned her eyes on him, the blue lightening to an icy color in her panicked annoyance as she glared at him. “Gee, thanks. I can always trust my darling brother to have my back,” she said sarcastically, to which Damian only smirked. 

“When it matters? Of course. But in this case, watching the fallout will be entertaining and not at all dangerous to your physical safety.” 

Damian and Marinette had been sent to live in Paris a few years back, about a year after Damian had come back to life. Marinette had been far too attached to the twin she had thought she had lost for good, and had nearly driven him crazy with how overprotective she had gotten. Right alongside that, Damian had started to become even more stifled by Bruce’s own protectiveness and distrust of him, so he quit being Robin and they were sent to PAris to try and “recover” from their “trauma” somewhere “safe and peaceful, under the jurisdiction of the JLE.” 

Yeah, that was a great idea. Up until they found out the hard way that the JLE had up and abandoned the Paris headquarters and taken up unofficial residence in England somewhere. And then Hawkmoth showed up. And of course, of fucking course, an old chinese man from the pacifistic organization that acted as a direct foil to the League where they grew up somehow decided that they, out of everyone in Paris, were the best people he could find to wield the power of tiny gods to save the city. 

Sure, he was right, but Damian chewed him a new asshole as soon they met for trusting complete unvetted strangers with the gods of creation and destruction. 

And now Marinette had finally managed to leak to Tim, who then spread the calculated slip of information to Bruce, that Paris had had a supervillain for the past few years and the JLE had been neglecting their jobs. Which turned into Batman setting up a meeting with Ladybug and Chat Noir (Damian had tried to tell everyone his name was Chance Noir, Dark Luck, NOT ‘chat noir,’ since the last thing he needed was to be associated with Selina in any way. Nobody listened, and now he was stuck with being called Chat Noir). They had a lovely discussion about all the shit Hawkmoth did, their lack of resources, and the lack of assistance/straight up refusal to believe their word that came from the JLE. 

Which led to Batman inviting Ladybug to meet the Justice League to debrief on the Paris situation. Damian had been invited as Chat Noir, but had taken the smart path and opted out. Now Marinette had to not only go to the Justice League as Ladybug, but also as Batman's daughter Hummingbird, who was being brought in for consultation along with Damian as Robin. 

“I’m gonna die again,” Marinette continued her catastrophizing, Tikki and Plagg sharing a glance at once another from their spot on her writing desk. “I’m gonna die of total embarrassment. Don’t bother resurrecting me Dami, I’m just gonna die all over again once Dad finds out who we are and kills me.” 

Damian snorted. “Hah. Father killing anything, good one,” he snarked back blandly. “You’ll be fine. Remember, you’re the planner and I’m the one with actual skill. You have the strangest ability when it comes to getting out of situations like these by the skin of your teeth,” Damian grinned at something on the screen of his Switch before continuing. “You’ll be fine. And if you sell me out, I’ll bury you myself.” 

Marinette stuck her tongue out at him. Neither of them wanted their dad to find out that they were LAdybug and Chat noir, especially since they had already explained to him the basics of the source of their powers. They were both certain that Bruce would completely ignore how well they had been handling the situation on their own for almost five years and jump straight to the “my murderous children should not be left with the powers of destruction and creation at their fingertips,” line of thought. Bruce had never trusted them alone before, why now? 

“At least help me, shaqiq?” Marinette asked, walking over and plopping onto the ground next to her bed, so she could look straight into her twin’s bright green eyes. At first, he refused to even look at her, completely unmoved. Marinette hummed mischievously, a habit that was the source of her Gotham codename. “If I go down, I’m taking you with me.” 

Damian finally huffed, scowling. “Fine.” 

He knew better than to doubt her. Marinette always got her way when she decided she was wronged and needed to even the score for something. Always. 

—* — * — * — * — *

Hummingbird. The smallest Bat, by far, and the fastest when it came to natural speed. Hard to spot, with the sole giveaway that a short playful hum could be heard if she thought she had her prey cornered. She was hardly ever wrong. 

She had also been temporarily retired as she and Robin moved to some undisclosed location to get away from the vigilante life for a while. Or so Batman said. And for the most part, aside from the occasional League gathering here or glimpse that they got of the two’s civilian personas if someone visited the manor while they were there, Robin and Hummingbird stayed retired. Heroes who knew them wondered if Robin had finally given up and settled down somehow, if he was even capable of it. And they all speculated that Hummingbird was so scarred from Robin’s death that she wouldn't ever be able to leave his side again, retired or not. 

 Seeing Hummingbird in her navy blue and black uniform, almost identical to her brother’s but for the thick navy blue scarf that covered her neck and lower face, everyone in the Justice League who knew her thought they were right. She stood there, older and only a little taller, never leaving Robin’s side as they traded secretive glances and hand signals only they understood. They didn’t make any attempt to stray from one another’s side. 

But Jon Kent, superboy and Damian’s oldest friend, was of a different mind. He had been by Marinette’s side after Damian died, and by both of theirs when he was brought back. This was not the same terrified dependence he had seen back then. His eyes narrowed. 

The twins were scheming, and nobody else would notice until it was too late. 

Quicker than they could blink, he was by their side with his trademark smile. “Hey guys! Long time no see!” 

They gave the half-kryptonian identical deadpan expressions, sighing in tandem. “You facetimed us last night. And you flew to Paris to visit us last week,” Damian pointed out with a raised eyebrow. “Despite us expressly telling you not to.” 

Jon shrugged. “If I listened to everything you two said all the time, we’d never have any fun. So, excited to meet this Ladybug girl? Dad says that your dad won’t tell him anything about her until she shows up.” 

Hummingbird and Robin traded looks before Marinette answered. “Not really. We see Ladybug in action in Paris all the time—”

“She even saved Marinette from an Akuma who was obsessed with wanting to date her,” Damian interrupted with an insufferable grin. Marinette elbowed him hard, making her brother wince before chuckling at her red face. 

“I could have saved myself just fine! It’s not my fault we have to lay low, or we might get kicked out of Paris for being past vigilantes!” Marinette argued, voice high as she protested how helpless Damian had made her sound. She puffed her cheeks out in annoyance. Damian’s grin widened into a predatory smirk that showed off teeth.

“Oh? What about that one time that Tsurugi got akumatized, and Chat Noir had to save you because she wanted to duel you for the right to date me and you were cornered?” 

Marinette growled, throwing up her hands in frustration before smacking Damian’s shoulder angrily. He only laughed at her. “I’m leaving! Come find me when Ladybug finishes explaining the things we already know!” with that, a fuming and embarrassed Hummingbird stormed out of the room. 

“Huh,” Flash remarked, leaning against the wall. “She looks a lot better than the last time I saw her. And she actually left your immediate vicinity. Willingly,” he remarked to Robin, who glared at the speedster. 

“It’s been almost six years. If you think my sister is weak enough to be that thoroughly encumbered by the past for so long, you are greatly underestimating her,” he looked around to see almost all of the gathered League members staring at him. He grit his teeth and looked over at his father. “When is this woman going to arrive, anyway? You’d think she would actually be on time.” 

Just then, a portal opened in the middle of the room and Ladybug walked through. Quickly shedding the brown costume that allowed her to teleport in, she was left in just her black and red-spotted combat suit. Seeing as they finally found out how to alter the costumes the Kwami gave them, Ladybug’s hair now sat in a braided bun on the crown of her head and her costume was made to look more like Nightwing’s with the ladybug symbol on her upper chest and between her shoulder blades on her back, with black gloves that reached up to her elbows and black knee-high boots with red stripes up the sides. 

The brightly colored heroine smiled, seeming to light up the room with cheer that nearly put Jon to shame (it took her awhile to perfect that particular smile. She actually based it off Jon himself, and Damian was impressed by how accurate she had been able to make it over time. Not that he would say as much out loud). 

That was when Diana started choking on thin air, and Damian and Marinette both realized that they had overlooked something rather major. 

Hippolyta had been a Ladybug. Diana had met Tikki. Diana knew how to see past Tikki’s glamour. 

At first, Ladybug tried to play it off. Maybe Diana would catch on and help her out. So she walked over, holding her hand out for Wonderwoman to shake and putting on another wide smile for good measure. 

“Oh my Kwamii! It is so good to finally meet you, Wonderwoman, Tikki told me so much about you and your mother! Would you like to talk later—”

“Marinette Wayne, how in Zeus’ name did you become the new Ladybug?” Wonderwoman instantly yelled, making Marinette wilt. Damian tried backing away slowly, only for Diana’s eyes to then shoot over to him and narrow dangerously. “And you! I knew I felt something weird, but now I can pinpoint it. You are wielding the Black Cat! One of you explain what is going on. Now.” 

Ladybug and Robin instantly looked away, getting ready to make a quick escape right as their father walked up behind Robin, putting a firm hand on his shoulders. As always when Batman smiled, it sent a shiver down everyone’s spine. Marinette gulped a little. 

“I agree. Marinette, I forgot to tell you that we changed the locations of the League security cameras last night,” shit they were so busted. Bruce must have suspected them of something from the very beginning, stupid world’s greatest detective instincts— “But now that we have confirmed that my suspicions were correct, we can save that discussion for later. First, let’s debrief on the Paris situation like we agreed. Then, you two will explain why you decided not to tell me while you help each other clean the entire Batcave tonight.” 

Damian didn’t open his hand for the entire meeting. He and Marinette made eye contact as soon as everyone sat down for a suddenly very uneasy debrief, silently agreeing that they would not let their father take away their Miraculous. They finally had names and reputations of their own, away from the Batclan and their father’s influence. They had learned more about themselves and what they were capable of in those past years as Miraculous wielders than in all the years of the rest of their lives combined. They wouldn’t give it up, not even for Bruce’s approval. 

But when they got back to the Manor and began cleaning up the batcave as they had been ordered, they were surprised when Bruce made no mention of taking their jewelry back at all. And he stayed up with them, silently reviewing things on the Batcomputer as they cleaned. It could almost be considered family bonding. 

By the time the twins were done cleaning the sun was about to rise, and finally their father spoke up for the first time since they had begun their punishment chore. 

“I watched days worth of your Paris battles before going out to meet Ladybug and Chat Noir in person,” he said without ever turning around from his spot at the computer. “I was impressed. I still am. The teamwork was flawless, and the Parisian heroes never used deadly force. They even did their best to provide emotional support to the victims who were akumatized. I thought for sure at least one of you two would have been victims yourself, with all that you’ve been through. Anything can be a trigger for you, anything can make you vulnerable to Hawkmoth,” Bruce paused to take a sip of coffee. He didn’t have to look at his children’s reflections in the face of the Batcomputer to know they were drinking in every word he said. He did anyway, allowing a small smile that they couldn’t see to form on his lips. 

“I scoured through every akuma attack one by one, trying to find the one where one or both of you were the ones possessed. But I only found more reasons to be impressed by the heroes instead. By the time I was done looking through every scrap of video I could find, I had a feeling I knew who you were. Hearing your voices in person cemented it further, but I wanted video proof. So, knowing that Marinette would have forgotten about agreeing to accompany me to a JL meeting, I asked Ladybug to debrief us.” 

“You had us from the start,” Marinette sighed, shoulders slumping. But Damian said nothing, eyes wide as he picked up on the nuances of what Bruce was saying that Marinette was too tired to catch on to. 

“I’m proud of you two.” 

Then, even Marinette froze. The twins had identical expressions of shock on their faces, and Bruce finally turned around to look at them properly. For a long while, the three of them only made silent eye contact as dozens of emotions flew through the air silently, but understood. Then Damian and Marinette straightened up just and silently. Damian nodded to his father, Marinette gave him a vulnerable little smile, and then they both backed out and went to head to sleep. 

And once they were gone, Bruce sighed in content. Seems his meet-the-Justice-League plan worked out perfectly. He had finally managed to say something right to his two most troublesome children, for the first time. He leaned back in his chair, gazing up at the dark bat-infested cave ceiling as one more tiny grin played on his face, a little melancholy this time. 

Guess they never needed him to help them find their inner hero, after all. They had become even better at the whole hero thing than he was, and all on their own. Bruce closed his eyes, not noticing when Alfred draped a blanket over his body and left the Cave with a soft chuckle. 

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

This sucked, but I wanted to give you guys something. So. here you go I guess? 

[wildercrow]

for DADWC! “It’s alright, I’m here” or “I’m not going anywhere” from the caring prompts for Anders/Fenris? 🥺

For @dadrunkwriting

Look, I occasionally write Anders suffering instead of Fenris suffering! Occasionally. (Thank you for the prompt, this was very cathartic to write.)

~*~*~

Title: I'm Here Fandom: Dragon Age II Ship: Fenris/Anders Rating: T CWs: Strong language, Grief, Dragon Age II spoilers AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/34368964/chapters/85919101

~*~*~

Fenris is already awake when he hears muffled crying through the wall he shares with Anders and Justice’s bedroom. Not awake because he wants to be or because it’s a reasonable hour to be awake, mind. He’s muttering curses under his breath in Tevene while massaging his jaw and stretching his neck in hopes of relieving the pain enough that he can lay back down for a couple more hours of sleep. So far it’s not working. But the louder the sobs in the adjacent room become, the less he seems to care about his own perpetually fucked up jaw.

After about ten minutes, he can’t take it anymore. He gives his neck one last good stretch before sliding out of bed and making his way out of his bedroom, clicking his tongue for Shadow the cat to follow him. (He doesn’t like picking up the cats unless they ask for it. Shadow does not ask for it, and Fenris respects his wishes. Perhaps as a result of that respect, the little black cat immediately hops down from the bed to follow Fenris out of the room.)

He gives a light knock on Anders’ door to forewarn him that he’s coming in, but he doesn’t wait for a response. He doesn’t need to. They spend so much time in each other’s rooms these days that they practically have shared custody.

Anders doesn’t respond when Fenris and Shadow enter. He’s hugging a pillow to his face, wailing into it and rocking in place on his bed.

“Anders?” Fenris whispers.

No response.

“Hey,” he says softly as he crawls into bed with his partner, making just enough noise to alert him of his presence without startling him, “it’s alright. I’m here.” Shadow jumps up and smears himself against Anders’ legs as if to echo the sentiment.

The mage doesn’t look up. Doesn’t stop crying. But Fenris can feel his muscles relax ever so slightly next to him.

“I’m here,” Fenris repeats, reaching a hand out to rest his palm on Anders’ naked back. It’s crisscrossed with scars.

They stay like that for what seems like an eternity. Fenris keeping silent watch over Anders as he sobs wordlessly into his pillow. At some point Shadow crawls into his lap, so Fenris idly pets him with his spare hand. Every so often, he murmurs, “It’s okay. I’m here,” to remind Anders that he’s not alone.

Finally, the mage’s sobs die down into exhausted hiccups and he melts against Fenris’ side, placing a snot-encrusted hand on Shadow’s head. “I couldn’t save him,” he whimpers, voice hoarse and congested. He sniffles defeatedly.

“Karl?” Fenris asks gently. He already knows the answer. This isn’t the first time they’ve had this interaction and he doubts it will be the last.

Anders nods and buries his face in Fenris’ shoulder to muffle a hiccupy sob. The elf doesn’t complain about the snot and tears and drool on his pajamas, just wraps his arm around his partner’s head and repeats, “It’s okay. I’m here.” Because what else can he say?

“It’s my fault,” sobs Anders, his voice raw to the point of cracking. “I couldn’t stop them. I couldn’t save him.”

“There’s lots of things we can’t do,” Fenris points out. “That doesn’t mean they’re our fault.”

“I should’ve found a way,” the mage whimpers brokenly.

“You and Justice. You try to carry the whole world on your shoulders,” Fenris shakes his head. “You need to stop blaming yourself and just let yourself be sad, sometimes.”

“I’m not sure we know how to do that,” Anders whispers into the tear-soaked armpit of Fenris’ pajamas.

“Do you think you can get back to sleep?”

“No”

“Me neither. Why don’t we go downstairs and drink some tea together?”

“Okay.”

[be-ready-when-i-say-go]

Blighted

For my precious Sunshine, @5-secondsofcolor's birthday!! Which is technically now, because it is 1 AM on the 20th of May and I am a mad woman. Love you and I hope you have an amazing day, when you see this of course.

Here is your fic, FBI/Behavior Analyst!Calum. Female OC.

Ivy says she's cursed after taking the same career path that took her father's life. Calum's new on the team, a liaison and media specialist, but he's looking to get his toes wet.

AKA your regular old jaded pessimist veteran and bright eyed rookie buddy cop story. Please enjoy!

CW: In depth descriptions of death/crime scenes. Depictions of violence, gore, and blood.

Enjoy my masterlist (on a haitus)

Search for more writing in the h writes tag

________________________

The whiteboard never leaves. It glows behind her closed eyelids. When staring down at the neck of a bottle, she sees it floating just as the bottom of her drink. She’s cursed. But she knew that the moment she tried out for the academy. The second the thought floated across her mind, she would be doomed just like her father. Ivy tried her best to reroute herself--she got into the arts, was first chair flute in her highschool’s orchestra. She was president of the Homecoming committees her junior and senior year, and worked during the summers at her church's camp.

And yet when she went into school for her degree, she gravitated towards psychology and criminal justice. She saw her mother’s fear. The closer it came to graduation and the more the two of them talked about what she would do after graduating, the more the thought lingered, I want to get into the Bureau like Dad. But she couldn’t utter that. She couldn’t say those words without tears welling up in her mother’s eyes.

Ivy suspected her mother always knew about the desires. Ivy didn’t remember all the nights clearly, but sometimes she’d peek out her bedroom door and see the glow of the light downstairs. Ivy followed it, side stepping the creaky fourth step from the top and from between the banister’s she’d find her dad sitting at the dining room table. The kitchen light glowed from behind him and his tie would barely hang on around his neck.

“Boo,” he’d say quietly, knowing the slight shuffle of Ivy’s feet.

“How’d you know I was there, Daddy?” she’d ask, carrying herself the rest of the way down the stairs and make her way through the living room to climb into his lap.

“I can hear your feet above me,” he’d respond, pointing above them.

And they’d spend an hour, sitting at the dining room table. Ivy asked about her dad’s latest trip. He only ever told her when she was young that they were helping save people, putting bad people away. Ivy wonders if this is where it started. If this was where her father casted the spell, leaving Ivy somehow starry eyed about what it really was he did. Ivy would always look at this job with a little bit of that hope that her younger self had, and she’d always be fucked to never be able to walk away from this line of work.

It would kill her--much like it had killed her dad. But unlike him, she’d see the bullet spiral out of the barrel. Her dad had her and her mother to get back too. It wasn’t a weakness. Ivy admired her father for sticking with his dreams and also making the hard calls to make sure his family knew he cared too. But the need to decide would always be a slight hindrance, would always be the key to living or dying in this line of work.

All that’s left of her father, besides the memories and a few of his old t-shirts that got remade into pillows, is the whiteboard she keeps at her desk. There’s a whiteboard for the entire team to use of course. But this whiteboard is the one that her father used in his office. The one where he made his notes, scribbles. The one she’d write notes to him in the bottom left corner that never disappeared until she wanted to replace the note with something new.

“Thomas, look alive, and enjoy.” The manilla folder hits her desk with a quiet thwack. Ivy blinks from the whiteboard up to her senior officer. Kennedy carries on, dropping folders on every desk and each one of them stands without needing any further prompting.

Kennedy’s been in the field for years. It was all over his face with the deep frown lines. His brow seemed permanently furrowed, as if he questioned every waking second. Ivy liked to tease he worried even about sleep. But no one could sink a decade and a half into this line of work and not come out on the other side with a healthy amount of suspicion.

“And where’s this new guy?” Kennedy asks, glancing over the office.

Ivy looks up from her copy of the file. She heard rumors of someone else coming by the office, assisting them occasionally on cases. But those rumors floated around weeks ago, long enough that she chalked it up to just that--rumors. It doesn’t shock her though. Things start at rumors often, and sometimes they come to fruition and sometimes they don’t. Ivy follows Kennedy’s eyeline and doesn’t spy any new faces.

“Want me to keep an eye out for any lost souls?” Ivy offers, glancing back up to Kennedy.

“Nah, I need your eyes on this one. Head up to the conference room and I’ll be there once he shows up.”

With a nod, Ivy closes the file. She swipes the whiteboard from her desk with a couple markers and heads up to the conference room. The rest of the team sat flipping through their files too, Jenkins sitting right near the front but moved down one seat. They’re not new, having been around for a couple years. But Ivy can tell their type--getting in chummy with the boss, trying too hard. They’re a good addition, but Ivy’s waiting for the day they take a hunch and it doesn’t lead to the results they want. A loss will show their true colors, how well they can handle being wrong sometimes. No one on the team is perfect, they’re all hedging bets. Ivy’s taken her lumps of hunches being made too late, or the wrong bets placed. They’re not often. No one likes them. But they happen.

Diaz, Russell, and Burke and scattered throughout the rest of the table. The three of them have been there longer than Ivy. But they all accepted her with open arms. Diaz and Burke were more muscular. They had the brains to match, but they came up the pipeline from their local PD departments and aren’t afraid to get into a tussle. More often than not, Ivy winds up pulling Burke from fights than she’d care to admit. Diaz’s much too big for Ivy to attempt physically restraining, so she referee’s those fights that he gets into.

Russell’s their man behind the screen. He was good at getting through the internet loops, figuring out how to sort databases for the information they need without so much red tape and delay. He preferred to stay behind the lines, but could handle a tussle. Ivy doesn’t count herself as the brains. But her gut had some sort of true north needle that, more often than not, was right. She could see patterns faster than most, could sniff the air after someone and assess how much she could and wanted to trust. Kennedy consulted her often. Whenever she felt like she had something, he’d hush the crowd for her to formulate the full thought. Kennedy didn’t always agree with her assessment, but had to listen to it. He needed to listen to it.

“Nope,” Russell huffs, shutting the folder. “Fucking hell. Kennedy told me it was rough, but I didn’t--I didn’t think it was this rough.”

Ivy settles in next to him sliding him a marker. She draws roughly a tic-tac-toe board. “It not getting easier for you is a good sign.”

Russell makes his first move, the marker squeaking just a little. Ivy follows up with hers. She knows if she makes it too obvious, too easy, Russell will forfeit the game. So she tries to play along, like she’s vying to win.

Russell places his second X though his hands shake just a hair. “Yeah, but compared to you guys, I feel like if someone took a gnarly enough shit it would make me queasy.”

“A bad enough shit could do that to anyone,” Diaz pipes in, his own folder still open but his forearms pressed down over the photographs. Russell’s been around the block, definitely seem some rough things, but has always had a softer view of the world. Still wants it to be good despite all the bad he’s seen.

Ivy places down her second O, noticing the pretty obvious wide open spot she left Russell but looks up to Diaz. “I think I heard through the grapevine you were on the losing end of one of those shits yesterday,” she teases.

Diaz reclines into his seat, his chest bouncing with his laughter. “All because of your cooking Thomas.”

“My cooking is not that bad,” she defends, the cap of her black marker pointing him out.

Burke snickers too with a shake of her head and opens her mouth to speak but the room fills with the voice of Kennedy. “Aren’t y’all old enough to be left alone not to talk about shit for five minutes?”

“Never too old to talk shit, sir,” Diaz returns, his smile lifting only half his face up. He’s a charmer, whenever they go out to bars out manage to get a moment’s peace not hounded by work, he never seems to be at a lack of folks coming up to him. He’s already got a girl, but with the hair that cascades always neatly placed and the dazzling bright grin, anyone could fall for it.

Kennedy huffs his laughter quickly and then shuffles deeper into the room. “We’ve got a new friend, so let’s play nice.” As Kennedy makes head way, Ivy notices the man behind him. He’s tall. The black dress pants and black dress shirt don’t hide everything beneath them, but Ivy’s not too shocked to see people who work in the field like that with some sort of muscular physique. There’s something about his face though--something about the way his brown eyes dart around the room and his smile never shows any teeth that something familiar tugs at her.

Kennedy goes around the table introducing Ivy first, then going to Russell, coming down to Jenkins, Diaz, and then Burke. Each one of them lifts a hand or nods at their name. “This here is Hood, Calum Hood. Joining us as a new liaison.”

Ivy’s no good with faces sometimes. But names she hardly ever forgets. Hood, she met him once a few years back at a lecture. Not that she did them often, but Kennedy got more face time. But he made sure to spread the love between the team. He asked her to tag along. Calum must’ve been in the crowd, had to be, and had to have asked a question because Kennedy told her to remember that name. And she had.

Kennedy continues on with something. Ivy suspects he’s warning Diaz to keep any hazy tactics to a minimum considering how much of a mess they’re walking into. Ivy nods once more at him, and then faces back to the whiteboard, the tap on her arm prompting her too. I’m a scaredy cat sure, but not dumb, it reads in Russell’s handwriting. She spies his X in the bottom corner, opposite of where he would’ve won.

“Pull up a seat, Hood. We’ll have more time for pleasantries once we’re up in the air. But I want everyone to at least be familiar with this case.”

“Yes, sir.” His voice is smooth, Ivy notes. A soft volume and accented but smoother than she would’ve pegged.

The team breaks down the file, recapping mostly what they’ve already read but Kennedy’s old fashioned this way, needing to make sure people have done their homework. It’s an extra step than completely necessary, but having the quick meetings has always made this team feel more like a second family. There’s always a common goal in mind for them and they’re always reminded of it. No matter what happens out in the field, they all want the same thing.

“We soar in forty-five minutes. So let’s hope wheels can turn in the air. Hood, I need you to keep in mind the local PD’s been taking a lot of heat for the last couple of months. So we don’t want to take too much star power, we’re only here to assist and whatever we can do to put the local’s good grace back onto that PD we need to.”

Not quite what she expected, though with his demeanor and looks, he’s sure to work a crowd or newsroom well. She’s sure he’ll be on the ground with them too.

“Understood,” he replies and with that, all of them push away from the table. “Agent Thomas,” Hood says, reaching out almost as if to touch her elbow but never actually do it. He continues to speak once she looks over to him. “I-I don’t know if you remember. But we met at a lecture a couple years back that you held with Agent Kennedy. And I just wanted to say that I’m excited to be here, working with you all.”

“Thomas, here, does not respond well to flattery. Trust, we’ve all tried,” Diaz laughs, clamping down on Hood’s shoulders.

“I appreciate it,” Ivy responds. “Glad to have a fresh mind on the team.” There’s no smile, at least, not one she’d give Russell, Burke, Diaz, or even Jenkins. But Calum watches her give another curt nod with a quick quirk of her lips, and then leave, stacking her file on top of the whiteboard.

“Don’t sweat it. She’s in work mode,” Diaz assures. “We get off the clock and she’s a hoot. But on the clock, it’s strictly business. I will warn you, Thomas will burn you.”

Calum’s left, watching Diaz, Burke, and Russell leave. Jenkins turned tail the second Kennedy got done. It’s not that he wants to mix business with pleasure. He’s just been studying Thomas, attending as many lectures that she gives as he can. She didn’t always go directly by the book, there was something about her method that used the evidence, used science, but also had some sort of intuition. Thomas just knew things and when attempting to quantify it, she didn’t always have the words for it. Calum just wants to see that in action, understand what it is about knowing that isn’t always present in the facts.

The plane ride is comfortable. Plenty of seats even though they squeak just a little. Calum watches Thomas sit and everyone seems to sit spread out from there, keeping her at some sort of center. “Mobile. They don’t mind the hustle,” Ivy starts.

“Crossing state lines is risky, especially after the escalation,” Burke interjects.

“But wouldn’t that be a reason for it? If all the crimes look different, enough crossing state lines might make the unsub feel confident, like they’re getting away with something.” The entire plane turns to look at him. Calum freezes for a moment. He knows better. He knows so much better than that. Fuck.

“Valid. But we shouldn’t settle. Travel might be part of their job. We’ve got a good cluster to possibly estimate a home base. Get comfortable, perfect the craft here and then spread out. But why come back? Local PD's hadn't quite connected anything, until the return. More families, found exactly the same. Even when they cross state lines, all points wind back to a specific geographical location,” Burke returns.

“Hood, you got the inside of the media. What does it look like?”

Thirty minutes of his forty five was making sure that he could at least nail down this run through. And it’s easy, even with the squeak of Ivy’s dry erase marker, to run down the media reports, what information has been released and what hasn’t been released. He makes note of what the team doesn’t want to get out and what they do want to keep available to the public.

All the while, Calum watches the way Ivy writes over her board, the squeak over and over on specific strokes. He wonders for a moment what she’s writing, what it is that she needs to keep written track of. But he doesn’t get a chance to fully flesh out that thought before he finishes his spill and Diaz cuts in. They’re fast, not quite settling on any one theory. More like compiling the possibilities, not wanting to eliminate things but ranking how plausible they all could be until the pieces click.

The first thing after the flight lands, they head for the precinct. The lead investigator greets them, and there’s no pause. They’re pulled into the frenzy, looking at boards. Calum tries to keep his head in the game, but he is watching Ivy. The way she settles in her chair, her marker always moving. He’s not even sure it’s words anymore, just a constant circular movement. Sure he’s here to help regulate media outlets, and he can do that in his sleep if local PD and media follow his instructions to a T.

But he needs an in, to show he’s more than just the new meat on the chopping block. He’s worth something. “Is the last crime scene still available?” Calum asks.

The room turns to him, well most of the room does. Ivy keeps circling, but she speaks. “The plan’s to go in ten minutes. Whatever’s got you preoccupied, leave it in your go bag.”

Kennedy chuckles, tapping at her foot. “Give the kid a break. He was buried in news coverage the second we got into the door. But Hood, shake the cobwebs. This isn’t your small town’s rodeo anymore. If you need to be caught up, ask. But if you’re going to be in the room, keep those ears open.”

A task easier said than done, but he nods, resting his elbows on his knees. God, they’re going to think I’m an idiot. The room goes back to its normal buzz, but Calum keeps his head buried in his hands.

“Talk to me. What are your theories?”

Calum lifts his head. Ivy’s closer now. He can see the black marks on her hand from where she’s held it up against the swirls and lettering. “Clearly I’m barely treading water here.”

“First day nerves, but you can shake it. You wanted to see the crime scene. Why?”

“Why there? We have indications that the unsub spent a lot of time there, even with the interruptions they've seemed to caused. They're still meticulous. I want to follow their steps. What did they do first? And why? What do they need from a crime scene before it’s done?”

“Good. But what else?”

“What-what do you mean what else?”

She smiles, much different than the first one. It shows her teeth, a bit of a twinkle in her eyes. “What else?”

He goes quiet, reclines back into the seat and closes his eyes for a second. What else? There’s a lot else. “I mean, the next obvious thing is why these victims? But besides that, how comfortable is this person? Do they feel a need to be rushed, fast, get-in-get-out or can they blend in? I have a hunch they can blend in. Maybe people even trust them. They are perfectly ordinary and in essence, they have to be in order for the fantasy to work. Detection means they have to get sloppy. Being sloppy’s not an option, so blending in it is.”

“Bring that to the crime scene.” Something taps his knee and Calum cracks open his eyes to see her, standing. Her whiteboard still gently rests against his knee. She’s not looking at him though. Her gaze is locked onto the board next to him, displaying the crime scene photos.

“What’s your secret?” Calum asks. He’s almost positive she didn’t hear him due to Ivy’s lack of prompt response. But then she turns to him.

“Secret?”

“Thomas, Hood, you comin’ or what?” Kennedy calls. “I can deal without Diaz, but I need you, Thomas.”

“I’ll remember that,” Diaz laughs as they walk through the glass doors of the precinct.

It’s not Calum’s first time at a crime scene. But the second Calum steps through the door a chill runs through him. The carpet and walls are still bloodstained. Everything about it the scene just feels wrong, makes Calum want to immediately step back out of the house.

“You feel that?” Burke asks. She continues on deeper into the house, slipping into her gloves.

“This is when Thomas says she’s too Black for all this and gets the hell out of dodge,” Diaz barks. He squats down to the blood on the carpet. Ivy’s already deep into the house, seemingly guided by a force unwillingly to let her go. She doesn’t respond verbally, just lifts her hand, the middle finger extended out in the general direction of Diaz.

And Calum is standing near the threshold of the door, trying to pinpoint why it feels so cold in a house in Texas in the middle of the summer. His hands feel sticky even inside the latex gloves. His first step is shaky but he stops next to Diaz. “There are drag marks from the blood,” Calum notes. “This isn’t where they were killed, just staged.”

“The unsub staged all the victims here in the living room. We know that. Pictures show the parents at the ends of the sofa, children in the middle, dog on the floor.”

“But there’s blood on the walls. We know the Dad’s 6’1,” Calum returns.

“And we don’t have forced entry. So, whoever is wreaking havoc isn’t threatening enough for someone not to answer the door.”

Calum turns to the sofa where the family was found. “It’s picturesque, poetic even. You’ve got a whole family right here, at your will. They knock on the door. It’s dusk, sun’s just starting to set.”

“They have a ruse that gets them inside. We already know they have to blend in with the community. So what can you use to get into a house? Who gets into a house without a problem?”

Diaz goes into the kitchen where in the case file it mentions when the family was finally discovered food was still out on the table. “The window doesn’t have to last long. But it has to be just right. All three families were either eating dinner, or just done with dinner. So why dinner time?” Diaz turns from the stove to face Calum.

“It’s when everyone is together. They’re not just going after a family, but very specific family dynamics. Which means both parents need to present, two kids seems to be a minimum.”

“What’s the average dinner time you’d say? With this job, I eat whenever I fucking can. But before this, excluding people like us, when is the average person sitting down to eat?”

“6, 6:30 I’d guess. That’s assuming the average person is working a job that calls it at 5PM. A town like this is either on the verge of collapsing or being bought out. So I assume a lot of people are traveling outside to the city for work, so the commute might be even later. But I wouldn’t hazard any guesses that our unsub’s just haphazardly picking houses.”

“No, no, you’re right, Hood,” Diaz states, walking over to the table. “I guess what I’m saying is the timing. No one hears anything. But our unsub’s using a gun. That’s not quiet. And there’s not a lot of city noise this far out. They’re spending hours in the house and somehow getting out undetected. But striking at dinner time, with the setting sun, means this person’s around outside the house. But no one’s noticed anything out of the ordinary.”

“Hunting seasons,” Calum returns. “No one really flinches at the sound of a gun shot because people are hunting year ‘round here.”

“And it seems like humans are on the menu.”

“An appetizing thought.”

******

Ivy’s not sure when the chill finally left over the course of the day but it returns when she walks into the precinct and sees the entire room in a frenzy. Kennedy spies her and it’s just a look. Not much different than his resting face, but somehow she knows with that slight arch in his eyebrow. Another family--while they were proding over photos the killer was already moving on, already in the midst of their attack.

And it shouldn’t shock her. Well, to be more accurate, it doesn’t shock her and maybe that’s the thing that scares her. “I’ve been doing this too damned long,” she mutters to herself. “Hood, you’re with me. Get the address and let’s see what that gut of yours cooks up.”

“How’d--Is Kennedy going to be okay with that? The call just came in a few minutes ago.”

“Get the address and tell me how you like your coffee,” Ivy says. Kennedy’s going to come to the scene anyway, but she doesn’t tell Calum that.

There’s not another word before Calum passes in front of her. “Cream and two sugars,” he answers as he goes.

“So Black, got it.”

Paused at the desk of a detective, he looks over his shoulder. “Cream and two sugars,” he re-emphasizes with a tiny smile and holding up two fingers. Police station coffee’s never the best, but it’s better than nothing. When on a case, time is also imperative and they take what they can. Ivy fixes Calum’s cup first, slipping a lid on and keeping the stirrer through the hole. She pours her cup with no additions.

“Not even creamer? Not one?” Calum questions.

“Takes too much time,” she returns. “Burke, you staying?”

“Yeah, Russell got those files over just before the call came in. Besides that crime scene’s bound to be crowded as all hell and I swear if I walk into another house and catch a chill after seven years of doing this job, I just might quit.”

The two ladies laugh. Ivy recovering first to respond, “I need you to keep me sane even though you’re just as much trouble as Diaz.”

“Which is why I’m going to say here, work with Russell. We’re going to need Hood back before the 5’oclock news. Whatever you find at the scene will help solidify our profile and we need it soon. We need the hands on this clock, because it’s ticking ahead of us.”

Ivy nods. It’s no fun being behind. “Kennedy, we’re moving or we’re dying.”

“I trust you. There’s something off about that last one that I want to walk through again.”

“Let’s rock and roll,” she says to Calum, handing him his cup of coffee. “Mr. Cream-and-Two-Sugars.”

The drive is relatively short, all thanks to Ivy’s lead foot. But they need to get there fast, while things are still fresh.

“Did you always want to do this?” Calum asks in the silence of their drive. The radio doesn’t even play. Ivy knew he had questions. He wore them on his face, brows furrowing anytime he was the slightest bit hesitant about something.

“I don’t think I had a choice.”

“What do you mean you didn’t have a choice? We’ve all got choices.”

“My dad worked with the FBI until it killed him. And I think about how he used to tell me it was his job to help put bad people in jail. And I believed him.”

“The bug bit you before you even had a fighting chance.”

Ivy nods, taking a quick glance to Calum. “But if I had a prettier face, I’d stick with liaison too.”

Calum huffs out his laughter. “I went the journalism route first, sue me. Besides, that’s you admitting you think I have a pretty face.”

“I forget faces—so don’t think too highly of it. And I’m probably old enough to be your mother. You attended some lectures, I remembered your name. How’d you convert?”

It’s silent for a moment and Calum contemplates her statement, old enough to be his mother. “Given that my mother has shared her fountain of youth with my sister and I, you might be shocked to know I’m nearing 30. And I converted because of you and your work under Kennedy and his old superior Rogers.”

“All the greats,” Ivy teases, but she doesn't sound impressed. More like tired, used to it.

“But you’re different.”

“Yeah, because somehow the Bureau hasn’t realized their mistake.”

“Mistake?” Calum asks around his sip of coffee.

“Kennedy’s going to retire soon. He's done 15 with our unit. Another ten prior to that climbing through the ranks. Then they’re going to have to find a replacement.”

“You say that like it won’t be you.”

“Because it won’t.”

“You’ve been with Kennedy for so long. He’s obviously going to recommend you, Ivy.”

“He can recommend but people higher up get the final word.”

The truck stops just in front of the house, and Calum knows the most logical thing to do is just focus on the case, walk the scene. Do his job. But he reaches across the console and wraps his fingers around hers for a second with a squeeze. “You’ll get it. They’d be dumb not to bring you to the head of this team.”

“There’s an altar or a shrine. It’s small.”

Calum pauses with his hand on the door. Ivy continues beside him. “Go to the eldest child’s bedroom. In a corner you’ll see the small shrine. Our unsub left one at the last house. And the house before, I’d bet. And this house too. That’s what Kennedy missed. What other cops missed too. Make sure you get it photographed. Besides, I’ve been doing this job too long and don’t know if I’d even want the added responsibility if they promoted me.”

“How’d we miss that?”

“We didn’t miss shit. We saw it when we needed to see it. We see things when we need them.” It's the way she says it, like she has to believe that makes Calum believe too.

The sight rocks Calum--he knew it wouldn’t be easy. But he didn’t know it’d hit him like this. The room spins, just a little. And his heart racing. Mostly because he can’t stand the thought that this could be someone he knows. These people weren’t anticipating their would be like this. And what does that even mean for him? What does his end look like?

“Hey, whoa. Whoa.” An arm comes around his waist and he follows the lead of whomever’s grabbed him.

“I’m okay,” he breathes out. “I’m okay.”

“Yeah, I’m a fudge brownie. It’s okay to not be alright in there.”

Calum rests against the side of the house and squats down just a little. His elbows hit his knees. His breath is heavy, falls from his open mouth almost like he’s going to vomit. But his stomach’s not churning anymore. Not with the fresh morning air hitting his lungs. “Fuck,” he breathes out again, eyes blurring just a little.

“But you’re okay. Take a breather.” Ivy’s shoes turn up in the dirt. "Get him a water, will ya? Hood, take a minute. It's alright. I'll be inside when you're ready." Calum just watches her go. It takes a moment for him to lift his head. It has to get easier. Or least he hopes it does. It takes him a minute, inhaling deeply before he stands up straight.

The rest of them processing the scene goes by in relative silence. Occasionally, Calum pipes in with an addition to their theory. Ivy hums in agreement. And it’s not until they step out and slip out of their gloves that Ivy says anything. “This is why I drink my coffee black.”

“I’m sorry. I really--I don’t know why this one got me.”

“It’s the kids. Kids are the worst.”

Calum looks up to the sky. There’s a few clouds, but not many. “The photos are bad, but in person is way different.”

Ivy watches Calum, the way it takes him a second to come back to earth it seems. “Don’t ask yourself if it gets easier.” When his gaze lands hers, she can see the furrowed brow again. The question drips off his face. “You’ll only disappoint yourself. And this job’s not for the weak of heart. For the people that can’t take some losses with the wins.”

“You said it yourself. You wanted to put the bad people away.”

“Eight year old me wants to believe it’s as easy as putting the monsters away. Thirty-one year old me knows for a fact what the losses are, who gets caught in the cross-fire. It’s not easy, not in the slightest.”

“Innocent lives do add up.”

“Which is why I try not to do math on the job. They all slip up. They all reach a point where their methods don’t satiate the need. They all make a fatal flaw and counting the unfortunate lives on the way to that will have you walking from the Bureau faster than you can blink.”

“So what makes you stay? If it’s all so fucking bad, what keeps you going?”

Ivy nods to the car, pulling the keys from her pocket. “We need to solidify our profile and you need to run press ASAP. But to answer your question, the thing that keeps me going is that fact that they do get caught eventually.”

******

Eventually seems to come up faster than Calum anticipates. He was sure it would take weeks. After getting back to the precinct more information in Russell’s digging found a connection between all the families, a Venn diagram that overlapped to their X on the map. Another couple of days and it all unravelled. It’s a blur, when he tries to think back to it, on the plane. The only grounding thing is when one of the children, a little girl about 6, pointed out the tattoos on his hands. In all this time, he was sure the tattoos would be a barrier to entry--they’d somehow put him in a place that others would think he was nothing but trouble. But somehow, despite the terror she had done through, that little girl liked his tattoos, found some sort of comfort in them.

When he told her they were for his parents, she smiled at him. She said she wanted one for her parents too and then asked if he had anymore and how old he was when he got them. All of which Calum was more than happy to answer while the medic checked over her. Her older brother came soon after, asking a few questions, but overall he was much quieter than his sister. Understandable for what was endured. In the end, Calum’s just glad he didn’t see them staged on a couch, bleeding out onto the cushions.

There’s a small bit of turbulence and the shakes cause Calum to open his eyes for a moment. Ivy’s seated across from him, whiteboard on her lap, headphones in her ears. A tic-tac-toe grid drawn across it in the middle, but in the corners are some swirls, a crude drawing of the shrine from the case. Calum leans forward and tugs on the board just a little. She lets it go without a fight and hands over the marker.

Calum makes an ‘X’ in the top left. “You said this job doesn’t get easier.” He looks up to see if Ivy can hear him and is relieved when she pops out one her headphones. She raises her brows like she wants him to continue with the thought. And Calum’s not even sure he should. Instead, he hands over the board back to her. If seeing death doesn’t get easier, then maybe it just means he gets better at it. Maybe it means that not being okay with death is a good motivator to keep down this path.

“The job doesn’t get easier. You’re still human. You still want a spouse and a kid. You might want two dogs and a cat. You might want that white picket fence one day. You’ll want to close your eyes and not see death. You’ll want to walk down the street and see humans as humans again. You’ll have nightmares. Don’t hide from it. Nothing’s wrong with you for wanting that. But we’re in a world now where we see the horrors--what’s on the other side of everything you wanted. It’s a liminal space and it’s heavy to wade through.”

“I just want to not freak like I did the other day. It’s not easy. But sometimes I fear that maybe I bit off more than I could chew.”

Their game of tic-tac-toe has been forgotten, placed in the seat next to Ivy as she leans forward in her seat. “You said you were converted because of me. What exactly about me was it?”

“You just know things. When you walk onto a scene, you have an air of knowing. How can you just pick up on it in a snap?”

“Well,” Ivy laughs, “if that’s the only reason you want in, I warn you to get out.”

“I want to help. I want to save people,” Calum adds on. But then it hits him. Maybe this wasn’t the business of saving people as much as it was stopping people. Sure, they prevent future murders, but that didn’t always negate for all the lives lost. But they did save that family today. He saved that little girl that wants tattoos like his. “I want to save people and I want to stop people as well,” he finally adds on.

“There will always be monsters in this world,” Ivy warns.

“And there will always be heroes.”

“Make no mistake, Calum. We don’t have capes. We don’t swoop in all the time at just the right moment. Sometimes we are late. Sometimes we’re reacting more than we are being proactive. Sometimes we fuck up.”

His heart stops for just a moment at the mention of his first name. He’s always Hood, or at least has always been Hood. Just like she’s always Thomas to the team. But she said his first name. Unmistakably so. “Did-did you just use my first name?”

“You used my first name, first.”

When had he done that? He didn’t recall, but he couldn’t combat it either.

“Look,” Ivy continues, “the fact remains. We will fail. We will make the wrong call, or the right call just by the skin of our teeth. We will walk down the wrong direction only to figure out, we know it’s the wrong one. We get it right. A lot more often, we get it right and we minimize the death count. But we’re human--you don’t have to take it on if you don’t want. You don’t have to suffer.”

“If I don’t suffer and win, then that little girl suffers and loses. Then the next person loses. And the next. Their suffering or mine--the choice is clear.”

Ivy studies Calum for a moment. She sees the resolve on his face. Just how much sacrificing himself is a no brainer for him. It was a no brainer for her too. But admittedly, she was cursed. Maybe Calum wasn’t. Maybe she could save him, even if she couldn’t save herself. But she wasn’t in the business of saving people, only stopping them.

“I can’t stop you, can I?” she asks.

“Stop me from what?”

“Stop you from killing yourself with this job.”

“If it’s killing you, then why don’t you leave?” His head cocks to the side, now intrigued by her honesty.

“It’s like you said, I got bit before I could escape. I’m cursed. Are you?”

The little girl flashes through his vision again, and his chest tightens for a second before the relief kicks in. He could chase that feeling, the knowledge that he saved someone, one person. And that he helped put away one more person causing harm. “I am now. Ruined--because even though I can’t save them all. I can save some. I can help keep some people safe. I don’t think there’s a better reward than that.”

With a nod, Ivy looks back to their game on the whiteboard. They would’ve tied, she can see it after where she placed her ‘O’. But she hands it back over to Calum. “Kennedy’s going to shit himself when he realizes he’s got too hard heads on his team.”

“You’ll shit yourself when you realize you’re inheriting the second hard-head on the team after Kennedy leaves.”

Ivy scoffs. Of course, Calum still believes in the shiny idea that hard work yields rewards. “And this is where I can still tell you’re new to this--the dreams are still shiny and ideal.”

“All the work you’ve invested, they’d be--”

Ivy interrupts him. “I know, they’d be dumb not to.”

“Then why do you keep saying it won’t happen?”

“I’d call my pessimism a curse. But at this point, I think it’s a personality trait and the truth.”

“And let me guess, this is why you take your coffee black too.”

Ivy winks at him before her smile takes over her face. “You know it.”

[mossyvil]

Nighmares

Summary: Bakugou has you to wash away his nightmares, just as the rain washes away yesterday

Notes: this is for @crazymusicalwonderland (it wont tag you for some reason)  im so sorry this took so long but i hope i did it justice!! this is the longest peice ive ever written and i’m kind of proud of it, but i hope you like it!!

The rain falling against the window wasn’t what woke you up. Rather, it was Katsuki tightening his grip on the arm you wrapped around his chest earlier in the night.

It hasn’t been a good day for him, from what he told you when he got off of patrol. Apparently there had been a wannabe villain causing havoc downtown that he had been called to deal with. Said villain was startled by the presence of a hero, and through what was basically a temper tantrum, complete with almost leveling an entire building.

Thankfully, with the help of another hero that came onto the scene, they were able to subdue him. But unfortunately that brought along injuries. While it was only a cut to the side, it managed to warrant Bakugou to take a trip to the hospital, something he almost never did unless it was something that needed dire medical attention. Then after 20 or so stitches and a bandage wrapped tightly around his midsection, he was sent home into your arms.

After opening the door and changing out his boots for house slippers, he silently draped himself over you while you made a late dinner of some rice and chicken. It was fine for a few minutes- while it was an action he hardly ever initiated, it was never unwelcomed- but eventually you needed to move to grab bowls from the cabinet.

“Katsuki, babe, I need to reach the cabinet over there. Can you let go of me for a second?”

Katsuki only hugged you tighter, and moved his face to the crook of your neck, mumbling “Don’t wanna ‘gie.”

If him being cuddly wasn’t weird enough, now he was starting with the nicknames. In all your time spent together, he had only called you by a nickname once, which was when you got sick and had to stay in bed for a few days, and he handed you a cup of chicken broth to help clear your sinuses.

Knowing that it was a losing battle, you turned in his arms and wrapped your own around his neck, allowing him to snuggle farther into you. “How about you go lay in bed and I'll be there in a second, okay? I don’t think you’re going to be able to stay awake long enough to eat.”

Bakugou says nothing, but lets go of you and sluggishly moves to walk out of the kitchen and into the bedroom as you asked. Putting the food into containers for later was an easy task, and before you knew it you were changing into pajamas to join your needy boyfriend in bed.

Despite not initiating cuddles, he almost never allowed himself to sleep if you weren’t in bed with him. He didn’t touch you, preferring to cocoon himself in a blanket and roll over to where he almost falls off the bed, but you being there next to him calms him more than anything else he’s tried.

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Katsuki watching you change into the pajamas he had gotten you a couple months ago. He seemed to be half asleep by now, but chose to admire you instead of giving in to his tiredness.

Smiling fondly, you pulled back the comforter and climbed into bed with him. Almost immediately he was pulling you close to him, intertwining his legs with yours. In almost no time at all, he was softly snoring from his place resting his head next to you.

In contrast to your boyfriend, sleep had not yet found you, and since you didn’t want to grab your phone and risk waking him up, you decided to admire his sleeping face. Something you’ve learned over time was that his eyelids flutter occasionally when he’s dreaming, causing his eyelashes to rub against his soft cheeks.

Eventually, the combination of Bakugou’s snoring and the pitter-patter of the rain dragged you into a peaceful sleep.

That brings you to know, where he was slowly tightening his hold on your arm and pajama top, trying to drag himself closer to you. By now you know what this means- he’s having another nightmare. They’ve plagued him for his entire career as a hero, stemming from the horrible things he’s been exposed to.

Pulling him closer to your chest, you shush him quietly and murmur “Hey, it’s okay. You’re okay, Katsuki.” As if hearing your words, he stills, his body losing the tension it held just a moment ago. Though he’s settled into the soft sheets of the bed, his left hand moves slowly to rest on your chest, just above your heart.

“Angie?”

His voice is quiet, almost inaudible over the rain, but the closeness allows you to hear him call for you. The snoring that comes after you tells you everything- that he called out for you while sleeping, instinctually searching for your comfort after a nightmare. Your heart nearly bursts at the thought. While never being outwardly affectionate, Katsuki shows his love for you in other ways.

You tug him impossibly closer to you and move a hand to run through his slightly tousled blonde hair, messed up from today's work and his unconcern for brushing it out before he went to bed.

“Yeah, it’s me, babe. You’re okay. I’m here.”

Katsuki’s lips turn up into a small smile.

The next morning, he greets you at the kitchen table with a steaming bowl of leftovers from last night. 

“Thanks for helping me get to bed last night. I could barely function after getting off of work, it took more out of me than I thought it would.”

Teasing him would only deter his good mood, so you decided against cracking a joke about how needy he was the night prior, instead responding with “Of course. Did you sleep okay?”

Katsuki looks up, startled by the seemingly random question, but slowly nods his head with a raised eyebrow.

“It’s just, you had a nightmare last night. I was wondering if you remember what it was about.”

He looks back down at the food in front of him and moves it around with his chopsticks. By now you can tell that he’s nervous to tell you, so you don’t push it, and wait for him to start speaking instead.

“I do.” When he looks up to see your awaiting gaze, he continues, ‘“I..dreamt about you.”

Your eyebrows shoot up; chopsticks landing on the bowl you were just eating out of. “Me? What about me?”

Bakugou’s voice is quieter, now. Like he’s afraid to speak the words out into the world.

“I dreamt of you being taken. By a villain, I mean.” He’s still pushing around his food, and while it’s surely getting cold by now, you don’t bother to tell him to continue eating, not when he’s finally opening up about one of his problems.

“This guy-- I don’t remember his name, nor do I care to-- had taken you hostage after he found out we were dating, and I was the hero to respond to the call. He said he would give you back if I promised to let him to afterwards, but..” Katsuki trails off, his eyes wandering from his food to the wooden table between the both of you. 

“But he killed you anyway. I couldn’t save you. I had to watch you die in front of me and I couldn’t do anything about it. And you were so quiet, too.”

He wasn’t crying, but the wavering in his voice told you that he was close to it, if not trying to hold back his tears so as to not appear ‘weak’.

You find yourself sitting next to him a moment later, taking his hand in your smaller, softer, one and giving it a squeeze. The action calmed him more than he would like to admit, so you often used it when he was getting too riled up.

“I’m here, and i’m safe. I don’t plan on going anywhere, you can’t get rid of me that easily, okay? I’ll be here as long as you want me to be.”

Bakugou nudges your head with his nose, and just barely you can hear him say “I want you here for as long as you love me.”

[reaperlight]

Do you have any lawryght headcanons?

@greenpactbosmer Thanks for the ask!

Headcanons... ooh boy, well...

(Oh and I saw you had another ask there too but I think I may have misunderstood the prompt/what was being asked? In any case I should probablt edit the paragraphs of brain vomit that came out of that but until then here's more paragraphs of brain vomit, uh... sorry 😔)

Anyway...

Headcanons for lawryght can vary greatly from fic verse to fic verse but let's see curtent HC generally...

These three getting together in a canon-like universe...

The RyukxLight will either be established relationship or at the very least Ryuk is more helpful to Light and his plans than in canon to the point Light feels secure enough in his position so he can give L a chance and not feel like he has to kill him immediately so a relationship could actually develop between Light and L beyond "oh no, he's hot... I still have to kill him." (Also expect Light to be even more arrogant and insufferable because he thinks he's immortal and has the power of deathgod and anime on his side.)

Ryuk and Light getting together: And then they were roommates (oh my they were roommates) and there was only one bed--Shinigami don't really need to sleep but Light doesn't know that and the bed is comfy so Ryuk doesn't fell the need to tell him.

They are both extremely bored. Ryuk is absolutely fascinated with this human--he may not be on Light's side (or so he claims) but the entertainment value is beyond his wildest dreams. He is smitten, even if he doesn't admit it. If Light is curious about something hell try at least once... Or Light may be trying to get free Shinigami eyes out of him and they catch feelings.

L enters the picture... Ryuk doesn't mind sharing 1. Hes immortal and bored and... two interesting humans! This is so cool! 2. Shinigami don't have the same ideas about monogamy. 3. Headcanons about Ryuk vary depending on if rule 36 valid up to this point in the ficverse. (I.e. Chad!Ryuk vs. Virgin!Ryuk)

L and Ryuk--L is very disturbed to learn that his case actually has a supernatural component and is more leery of Ryuk than of Light at first. This lasts for all of the moment it takes to remember that Light is Kira and Ryuk is afraid of tennis balls.

After 5 minutes of soul searching, L can admit to himself he has a thing for monsters--both internal and external.

Assuming they are all alive and this takes place in early canon this shippable version of L is probably more interested in having fun then bringing Kira to justice. Either that or he has become disillusioned with the status quo or hurt and and wants revenge to the point that he's willing to entertain Light's way of doing things.

If its post series, maybe Ryuk is bored so goes looking for Light in Mu and ends up pulling both Light and L out of Mu because their souls are intertwined and once restored as humans or Shinigami or something shippable in the afterlife then it's just learning to rely on each other as they forge a new arrangement in the Shinigami realm.

Top/bottom it's not assigned seating Regardless of bedroom positions or what arrangement they have out of the bedroom Light is the dom/one in charge of this arrangement in bed... but subs L and Ryuk unionize and gang up on him. Light is a dom in bed but not always a top. L as a sub but not always bottom. Ryuk as a service top or power bottom. Ryuk doesn't really feel pain like humans do and will go with whatever he and his partners find interesting.

Contrary to rumor Light and L aren't always fighting over who gets to top. Fighting is for chess matches, clashes of ideology, and the last chocolate eclaire--not the bedroom. Consent, safe words, and mutual respect are all very important.

(The safe word is vegetables)

Light is very dom. In every relationship before or since. Except there's Ryuk, looming over him. Making him feel kinda excited and confused and then theres that stupid sexy voice of his... But ryuk is the exception. (But he might let L fuck him if he asks nicely and submits to Kira's reign.)

When they sleep together Ryuk likes to keep them both wrapped in his wings. He likes being the little spoon sometimes though...

L gets Ryuk addicted to apple desserts.

Light frequently ends up cleaning up after the other two. Ryuk helps when he remembers but typically L is a brat.

Light: How can you stand to live like this?

Ryuk: I was formed in a dustbowl.

Light: Yes, it shows.

L [throwing candy wrappers on the ground]: Why are you doing that, that's what Watari is for?

Others who might potentially join the polycule under the right set of circumstances: B, Mikami, Aiber, Matsuda...

Some very noncanon AU ideas...

Superhero aus (current wips)

Winning and ruling the world(s) au (current wips)

Light gets in trouble (of either a mundane or supernatural variety) and Ryuk goes to L to ask for his help because he's the only human he can think of who would be clever enough to help Light and because of supernatural restrictions Ryuk can't save Light by himself. L is annoyed to have his fun ruined by having it confirmed that Light is Kira in this way, pissed that Light could get himself into a situation like this, and also pissed at himself that Ryuk doesn't even need to threaten him to want to risk everything to save him. After they save Light, L decides there's no point in continuing the kira case because it no longer interests him. He returns INTERPOLs money and after Light recovers from his ordeal the three go on vacation looking for something interesting but less hazardous than their previous ordeal. L becomes fascinated with the supernatural and wants to go ghost and cryptid hunting, seeking out ancient mysteries and Ryuk has plenty of leads in that. Light is still more interested in becoming god of the new world but "fine, if you guys insist..." (he doesn't want to admit he's having fun too). They drive around in L's pink crepe van huntjng ghosts, solving mysteries. Light occasionally writes the names of murderous jerks and people who are assholes to L thst they meet along the way while Ryuk laughs and L scowls in a mildly disapproving way but never really discourages him.

Au inverting the dynamics so its established relationship of lawlight first and then Ryuk joins the polycule: AU where Light and L are the same age and are childhood friends and when Light finds the Death Note they become Kira together. Ryuk is fascinated by them both and slowburn they realize their feelings for each other.

Or... Human!Ryuk and mundane college AU Ryuk is in a metal band and is probably studying art and helps rival law students Ligtt and L to chill... at least until Ryuk gets in trouble for drug possession and then Light and L compete to be his better defense counsel.

Monster AU werewolf or vampire au that's canon adjacent--Ryuk bites Light, Light goes on to monster better than Ryuk does then Light bites L, the monster hunter who falls for him...

7. Haunted house au

8. The quarantine au--Light is annoyed because now killing as Kira feels rather pointless. L is annoyed because this is boring. Ryuk is having a blast because they're playing with him a whole lot more. If L and Light doesn't just use the L screen, Ryuk is always in the background, having floating, juggling apples photobomb the zoom calls.

And suddenly Ryuk is important.

Ryuk runs errand for them because he has no danger of catching the plague. They play video games, watch movies, bitch at each other, and get into pointless arguments over stupid things.

Also L makes them custom masks modeled after Ryuk's fangs just because.

Other ideas:

Wammys house and lawryght

Option 1: Wammy's house tooth rotting fluff, adopting all the orphans

Option 2: Wammy's house evil, B was right. It's really just about being raised as a weapon. It's like the stormtrooper program for genius orphans that may not have actually been orphans before the institute took an interest in them.

Option 3: Wammy's house complicated. The institute really is trying to do better, is the best place for the kids and while not perfect its closest thing to home/family they have.

Lawryght and Morality

These 3 can be awful enablers of each other's worst qualities. Then again...

Light: Huh, Ryuk thinks we're going too far. Maybe we should rethink this.

L [already has the prisoner tied up and being forced to listen to polka music on repeat]: But where's the fun in that?

Finding a home together

With Kira and a Shinigami as his boyfriend L feels secure enough to do more normal things he's been denied all his life.

With Ryuks help, Light finds the names of all of L's major enemies and gets to writing in the Death Note.

Light: Be mad if you want. I'm not sorry.

L tries to be mad, and fails. He can't help but feel relieved that they're gone.

He might even entertain the thought of having a permanent address.

He still enjoys traveling though.

Also L gets a kitten

The cat loves chasing Ryuk's feathers.

The cat likes Light's lap the best because Light went out of his way not to look at the cat.

....

Ah, that was probably way too long. But thanks for letting me ramble! 😆

[katsukikitten]

yo here’s an idea for you (just bc i feel like you’ll do this hc justice) a cybersex hc, like a facetime situation with bakugou (or whoever you like) idk how else to explain it

A/N Welp I kinda did what you asked. ENJOY

Your phone pings in your pocket before you pull it out, a message from someone worth losing your kill streak for.

*"King needs a selfie kitten."*

You smirk down at your phone with a cheeky attitude as you angle the phone to get the smallest glimpse at your cleavage, you lean against a muscled arm beside you.

"Kiri, selfie." He turns to the camera giving it a cocky look as you wink with a peace sign sending it on it's way before the two of you continue to pwn noobs on yalls favorite online game.

"Who's that going to?" He asks, rubies glancing back here and there to see how low cut you allowed your shirt to be.

"Just a friend!" You muse, before he watches your face become a little crestfallen.

"Then why isn't your *friend* here?" He asks, nudging you with your shoulder to engage again. You pick up your controller sticking out your tongue.

Kirishima cannot deny that he wants that tongue to do more than tease him.

"He's working! You know how the hero work schedule is." You sigh openly this time, securing top of the leader board as you get a six kill streak is less than a minute.

"Oh a hero?" Kirishima teases as your phone pings, he hopes to see the name of said hero saved in your phone. Instead he just sees King Sama 💥 as the name.

"Yes. A hero!" You nudge him back, he fights the butterflies in his stomach, he wasn't sure how much longer he could be *just* friends with you if your laugh had him that twisted.

That fucked up over just a normal sound and your smile.

Damn it was bright. He goes for a low blow as he adds

"Yet here you are with me, alone, on *Valentine's Day*." The stats come up on screen after they show the play of the game with you annihilating the enemy team.

"Yea well..." You tuck hair behind your ear, unsure of what to say. Heart clenching as Kirishima comes dangerously close. His breath mingles with yours as his tone deepens causing your stomach to flip.

"I wouldn't be afraid to show you off, Y/N." He says softly, leaning impossibly closer, just as his feather soft lips are about to touch yours, your phone rings. Blaring out the familiar tone of a facetime request. Ruby eyes burn into glass as they read King Sama 💥 coming between you and him once again.

"I uh gotta take this. I'll be right back." You say, standing and mostly pretending as if nothing happened. Kirishima plays along, waving the controller as if waving you away. All the while the plastic groans beneath his steely grip.

You slip into the bedroom down the hall, trying to push the thoughts of your room mate out of your mind.

You plug in the string lights to set the mood before you answer the call, his voice comes out of your phone's speaker like sinful velvet.

"I've been gone barely 16 hours and you're already disobeying me." A threat that has your core heating, "I told you to be in bed an hour ago. Shirt off kitten."

You notice that he already ready for bed, shirtless and in nothing but his black boxers. You lick your lips thinking of the prize beneath the soft fabric.

"And I told you I'd be staying up late in protest!" You half smile, half pout as you tell the truth, pulling your shirt over your head. He knew you always stayed up late with Kirishima on his weekend off from hero work.

You half wish Bakugou had instructed you to go to bed early because he was jealous of you spending time with someone else. Your stomach sours at the thought that he most likely hadn't done it out of jealousy or wanting to posses you.

"What was that? Are you talking back?" He expected this, he expected you to only half listen or fight back more so since he isn't there in person. Still he fights to keep the smile from his face.

"That's how a conversation works." You shrug, half agitated with him for being gone on valentines day.

As if he could help when he was sent to another city for work. Plus it wasn't as if you two were dating anyfuckinway.

Just fucking and occasionally hanging out. A dom with his bratty as hell kitten.

Kirishima's words have got you thinking. Maybe you did need something a little bit more. This one sided love, no matter how hot, was starting to hurt your heart. As if on cue your heart pangs out while the rest of your body ignites beneath his gaze.

"You sure have a smart mouth for someone who isn't standing in front of me Kitten." He says darkly, illuminated only by the soft hotel lamp and the light of his phone.

"You wouldn't do anything anyway." You even have audacity to roll your eyes. Bakugou's heart beat quickens, your banter seems to be less flirty and more stand offish than usual. Not being there in person today has him worried, not only are you alone with your male roommate but he knows he isn't there to force what ever is bothering you out of you. As there is no chance in hell you'll swallow your pride and tell him what's wrong.

"Oh I wouldn't Kitten?" His voice takes a sharp edge, "That's fine I'll remember that for later."

Silence stretches between the two of you for a moment as your gut twists, biting at your lip. Now frustrated with your body for still reacting to him as you feel your stomach tighten.

"For now let's address the fact that you're wearing that pair of underwear I got you." His smile is deadly as your face goes to slight shock considering you've only taken off your shirt for him, "It tells me when you've turned it on."

"I...I..I'm not wearing them."

"Oh?" He asks, thumb tapping the screen to activate the little vibe in the black pair of underwear. You let your phone tilt away from you as it buzzes against your clit, tightly pressed agaisnt you especially with how your thighs are pressed together.

"Keep the phone on your face kitten." You do as he asks, keeping the camera pointed at your face. Your cheeks redden quickly as your cunt clenches on it's own, desperate to have something to fill it.

But that wasn't happening tonight was it?

"Pants off." A command as you prop the phone up on your night stand to give him a full view of your body. He lowers the setting a bit while you shimmy your tight jeans down over your thicc ass and thighs. He groans as he watches, palming himself.

"Bend over, slide your underwear to the side so I can see how wet you are." Your body moves on it's own as you do what is commanding, keeping your moans whisper soft. He groans loudly when you move the fabric and a string of your slick sticks to it.

"What do you think Kirishima would do if he knew you were wearing a vibe for me today while you sat next to him? If he knew how much a slut you were?" He asks cranking it up, you let out a loud moan, "Quiet. Unless you want him to hear."

"Nnnnnn. No King I don't." You feel your body twitch as you press yourself against the bed, reminding yourself that he isn't here to slip himself in you.

"Remove your bra and sit pretty kitten." He commands leaving it on the agonizing steady setting.

"No please and thank you?" You ask with some bite to which he switches up the pattern to very low to shockingly high at unpredictable times.

"A king never asks." He smirks as even hundreds of miles apart you're softly moaning his name when he commands you, "Now help me cum baby."

He strokes himself on camera, the sight of it driving you mad, the little bit of precum you can see before he coats his head has you seeing stars. You'd do anything to have that in your mouth right now.

"Tell me what you're thinking." His voice is sultry, "Cause I'm thinking of making sure you're a quivering mess beneath me."

You gasp at the thought of him having his way with you, closely to how he is now.

"I... I.." But you can't tell him what you want as you can barely thing with how nicely this pair of underwear is pleasing you.

"Pull on your nipples for me." And you palm your breasts before pulling at the perked points, sending you closer to the edge that he has been silently denying. Knowing just when to change the setting lower, driving you completely mad. The vibrations go up and a loud moan escapes your mouth.

"Such a naughty thing." He sets it to the lowest setting as you pout, "Trying to cum without permission and being loud when I told you to be quiet."

"But you...Katsukiiiii." You whine instead as he changes it again but allowing you to continue to back talk.

"That doesn't sound like an apology to me." He says as his hand still goes up and down his length furiously. You follow his hand. Twisting this way and that in attempt to let up some of the pleasure as he ups the ante. The closer he gets the higher the setting.

He watches you twist restlessly as your gasped moans ring out over the speaker of his phone. He thanks God above and the creator for Facetime as he watches your cheeks and breasts flush.

And all for him.

He needed this after such a rough day, pops litter his forearms as he groans from the sight of you holding it in.

The sound of tiny explosions has you biting your palm to keep the moan contained. You love it when he's close.

"Who owns this pussy?" He asks, upping the vibration and switching up the pattern. Your nails dig into your thighs as you cover your mouth to keep from crying out.

"Y....you Sama. You own it." You say breathless as you try so so hard to obey him. To keep your release in, if you ended it on a good note he would allow you your crescendo.

He would also make your in person visit that much better.

"Fuuuuck kitten." He says, pumping hard even as cum leaves his throbbing cock in spurts. By habit your mouth is wide open, but you're holding your breath to keep from moaning.

One slips out much too loud and you bite your hand to keep yourself together. Tears collecting in your eyes as you're pushed closer and closer and closer. You begin to rut into the bed, hoping the extra friction with bring relief, cheeks reddening as you pray he gives you permission.

"Please sama please...." You cry out, loosening your cunt walls slowly to allow for the best release. Scarlet eyes watch you fight and bite at yourself in hopes to please him.

However his mind was already made up. He knows when you're at the very brink of your crescendo, he knows your eyes will start to roll back a few times as you focus on the stars you must see and he knows you're close because you're actually begging him.

You're about to snap, about to bite hard into your hand while the other pulls at your nipple like he instructed before the vibrator turns off causing you to let out a whimper.

"S...sama I think the battery may have died." You say, disappointment shrouding your face before he gives you a level look.

"No kitten, I turned it off. You were mouthy so this is your punishment. No cumming until I get back tomorrow. Got that?" Your face reddens as he expects, knowing full well the tantrum that is about to unfold. You stand as if that would make a difference over the phone huffing loudly.

"THAT'S NOT FAIR!" You yell, not allowing the heat of embarrassment to creep up your throat or the hot tears forming in your eyes since you are not getting your way. Despite knowing he's the only dom you've met that you actually listen to more times than not.

"It is fair kitten. I've been so lenient with you lately and you've been nothing but bratty."

"You're a brat tamer that's your job!" A hiss as your breathing hitches. He bites his lower lip, almost ready to give in and only because he is not there for the after care.

"You don't seem tame to me." He shrugs, "I'm a dom kitten. Now be a good little one and listen."

"Well I'm not. I'm...I'm.." You think of anything you can just to spite him, to get under his skin, it comes out faster than you can think it over, "I'm going to ask Kirishima for help."

Katsuki goes quiet on the other side, you watch his face harden as his eyes turn into glowing hot embers. Silence passes between the two of you. Both too proud to admit how much that sentence hurts you both.

"That's fine Y/LN." He snarls, "We aren't dating. So go ahead. Use him to cum just be sure to let me know if he's better than your Sama."

You see red as your heart claws up your throat, especially by the use of your last name.

"Fine!" You hiss ending the call with out your normal good byes.

He sends a threatening text that he knows will egg you on, angry with you for wanting another man and himself for not being man enough to tell you that he likes you and has for the past several months.

That he may be in *love* with you.

*"If you do fuck him. Be sure to send pictures."*

The text makes you feel next to nothing to him as you silently scream. You shove off the underwear angrily, slipping in the dicking down shorts Katuski loves so much and the same ones you've caught even gentleman Kirishima eyeing from time to time before slipping back on your tight top.

You had asked for this. You told him explicitly no feelings and not to be light on punishments.

And look at you crying because he did exactly as you asked while you were the one stupid enough to break your own rule. You splash your face with cold water until it no longer looks as if you'd been crying. Scrubbing the towel over it before giving your reflection your best cat like smile.

You were going to eat Kirishima up.

[mischiefandspirits]

Gone

Barbara Gordon was targeted. Richard Grayson disappeared. Jason Todd ran away. Tim Drake was kidnapped. Stephanie Brown crashed. Damian al Ghul was killed.

Hawkfire rose from the ashes. Nightwing soared through the sky. Red Hood hunted the streets. Red X found the trail. Spoiler haunted her targets. Renegade vanquished his foes.

Batman watched over them all from the shadows.

Followed by Black Bats

Deleted scene

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Barbara Gordon was fourteen years old when she was targeted by Pamela Isley. Pamela, calling herself Poison Ivy, blamed Commissioner Gordon for the accident that resulted in her chlorokinetic abilities. She launched an attack on the Gordons’ home that landed the commissioner in the hospital then proclaimed she would reward anyone who could take down the commissioner's daughter. When word got around, it was a free-for-all. The commissioner tried to get Barbara protection, but faith dwindled after a corrupt officer sold information that resulted in the girl taking a gunshot that nearly paralyzed her. Then Barbara’s security detail was attacked by an unknown assailant as she was being escorted out of the hospital. When the girl failed to reappear, the city mourned. Isley was questioned, but she had been locked up at the time and, according to her, no one ever came forward to claim her reward. The commissioner was realistic due to his years in the force and didn’t try to push the searches past the routine timelines. When asked, he would say that they would likely never know what happened if no one came forward with information and he could only console himself with the knowledge that she was likely in a better place now.

Richard Grayson was nine years old when he disappeared from the circus he’d been born and raised in while it was stopped in Gotham. The Gotham police searched, but there was never any sign of him. Commissioner Gordon reached out to Batman, but nothing came from it. After two months the search was called off. There was too much work on GCPD’s plate for them to be putting so much of their focus on one missing child, no matter how publicized the event had been thanks to quite a few of Gotham’s elite seeking to help the poor boy. The Lost Gray Son of Gotham, they called him. His parents remained in Gotham in hopes to find their lost child, but they never succeeded.

Jason Todd was twelve years old when his father reported that he’d run away. Willis Todd, owner of the luxury casino Solitary Wing, reported that his son and an associate had been traveling to the casino together when the boy suddenly leaped from the car while it was at a stoplight and disappeared into the crowd. Despite Willis using his connections to keep it going, the search didn’t last more than a month. Runaways were just too common in Gotham for the police to put much work into it. Willis paid men to keep looking, but after a year all they could come up with was a sighting early on of a boy vaguely resembling Jason disappearing into an alley with a tall man so Willis had to give up. He and his men continued to keep an ear out for the boy, just in case, but nothing ever came of it. The closest thing was a small conspiracy theory about how a boy killed in Ethiopia by the Joker and former Gothamite Sheila Haywood a few months after his disappearance matched Jason’s description, but the theory quickly faded into obscurity.

Timothy Drake was eleven years old when his parents called in his kidnapping. The boy had been home with his nanny when someone snuck into his third-floor bedroom and stole him away. The figure was nothing more than a shadow on the cameras, long and lithe. Every one searched for the young heir, police, Batman, and civilian alike thanks to the hearty reward the Drakes offered, but the search had to be called off after a year passed. His parents continued to offer the reward for any honest information, to no avail. All that appeared were a few claims of people seeing the boy stalking the streets at night with a camera in the years leading up to his abduction, but the Drakes waved it off with the assurances that the boy’s nanny never would have allowed that.

Stephanie Brown was fifteen years old when she and her mother disappeared. Her father reported that his ex-wife must have absconded with the girl after she’d lost custody in their divorce due to an addiction problem. Three months later, Crystal Brown’s car was dredged up from the bottom of a river in Burnside with bags filled with clothing belonging to her and her daughter. The police reported both had died due to the crash, which was likely caused by Crystal’s drug habit. Stephanie’s father continued to search after he discovered their bodies were not located, but he never found them.

Damian Tate was ten years old when he was killed. He had come to Gotham with his mother to meet his father Bruce Wayne for the first time. He was taken days after their introduction by an unknown group. They held the boy for ransom, but when Wayne paid, all he received in return was a video of the boy’s death by a gunshot through the head. When police tracked down the shack he’d been held in, all that remained was charcoal and a few bits of DNA. His parents grieved, even as his mother left Gotham.

Six stories ending in grief.

This is what the news told you.

Hawkfire was the leader of the Birds of Prey, a team of heroines who operated out of Platinum Flats, California. She’d made herself known when she, Black Canary, and Huntress had teamed up to face down the Daughters of Platinum. Instead of having powers, she utilized a belt of gadgets as well as extraordinary computer skills and pyrotechnic gear.

Nightwing was the leader of the Titans, a team of outcast heroes who operated out of Jump City, Florida. He’d made himself known when he led a group of teens against an alien invasion threatening the city. Instead of having powers, he utilized a belt of gadgets as well as extraordinary acrobatic skills and escrima sticks.

Red Hood was the leader of the Outlaws, a team of antiheroes who operated out of a hidden island in the Caribbean. He’d made himself known when he and Artemis of Bana-Mighdall clashed over a job. Instead of having powers, he utilized a belt of gadgets as well as extraordinary strategic skills and an assortment of firearms.

Red X was the leader of Young Justice, a team of teen heroes who operated out of Happy Harbor, Rhode Island. He’d made himself known when he, Wonder Girl, and Impulse freed Subject 13 from a Cadmus lab. Instead of having powers, he utilized a belt of gadgets as well as extraordinary investigative skills and a Bo staff.

Spoiler was the leader of the Outsiders, a team of covert heroes who operated out of Steel City, Washington. She’d made herself known when she and Beast Boy helped save Raven from cultists. Instead of having powers, she utilized a belt of gadgets as well as extraordinary stealth skills and invisibility technology.

Renegade was the leader of the Teen Titans, a team of legacy heroes who operated out of San Francisco, California. He’d made himself known when he learned that certain young heroes were being targeted by the Demon's Fist. Instead of having powers, he utilized a belt of gadgets as well as extraordinary martial arts skills and a katana.

Oracle was a powerful computer program, one utilized by Batman in his war on Gotham’s underbelly and occasionally brought in to help on Justice League cases. Some theorized it may be a form of artificial intelligence, but none have ever been able to confirm it.

Black Bat was an urban legend, a shadow sometimes said to be seen at Batman’s side as he worked in Gotham. There was no proof of their existence except the whispers. No one could agree if they were child or adult, male or female, short and stocky or tall and lithe.

Six stories of hope and power, one story of logic, and one story of rumors.

This is what the news told you.

What the news won’t tell you?

Hawkfire’s teammates know her as Babette "Betty" Kane, but her family calls her Barb, Barbara, Mistress Barbara, Babs, Barbie, Babsy, and Kane. She was the first Oracle. She was the second to stand as Black Bat.

Nightwing’s teammates know him as Dixon Malone, but his family calls him Dick, Master Dick, Pixie, Dickie, Flyboy, and Brother. He was the first Black Bat. He was the second to work as Oracle.

Red Hood’s teammates know him as Jace Knight, but his family calls him Jay, Master Jason, Redjay, Little Wing, Red, Scrappy, and Knight. He was the third to work as Oracle and Black Bat.

Red X’s teammates know him as Alvin Draper, but his family calls him Tim, Master Tim, Shortie, Timmy, Timtim, Chipmunk, and Draper. He was the fourth to work as Oracle and Black Bat.

Spoiler’s teammates know her as Carrie Kelley, but her family calls her Steffi, Stephanie, Mistress Stephanie, Shadow, Stepstone, Stepher, Steph, and Kelley. She was the fifth to work as Oracle and Black Bat.

Renegade’s teammates know him as Terrence Malone, but his family calls him Damian, Master Damian, Dames, Dami, Demon, and Terry. He was the sixth to work as Oracle and Black Bat.

Batman to most was Gotham’s Dark Knight. A few of his Justice League companions know him as Bruce Wayne, but his family calls him something else. For Alfred, he was Master Bruce. For Barbara, he was Uncle Bruce. For Dick and Tim, he was Dad. For Jason and Stephanie, he was the Old Man. For Damian, he was Father. For all of the kids, he was their protector.

The news will tell you a lot, but they don’t always know what’s going on behind the scenes.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

If anyone's confused, Barbara comes first because I like The Batman (2004)'s timeline of Batgirl coming before Robin. It kind of eases Bruce into both having a partner and being a parent before Dick shows up in all his traffic light glory.

All their aliases are references so see if you can figure them out. I think Jason's is the most obscure, but we'll see (No, it's not Arkham Knight. I only remembered that connection after I'd settled on the name).

[princess-of-riviaa]

NSFW Alphabet: round 1.2(?)

coco-killed-the-angels said: Your NSFW alphabet round 1 was amazing! It was detailed, thoughtful, well written, And just such a fun read!! I wanted to mention a few kinks you didn’t mention and ask who you think would be most likely to have them, if any, and who would be willing to try them or if they would be total turn offs. Or perhaps neutral opinion: Pet play, degradation, humiliation, fertility/breeding, lactation, tease and denial (like more long term deprivation), face slapping, leaving marks, sugar daddy, domestic.

I’m so sorry this took so long to answer, I was answering the very last kink and TUMBLR DELETED ALL OF IT I’M SO PISSED

but here you go darling:

like the last round, this will include:

Henry Cavill

August Walker

Geralt of Rivia

Walter Marshall

Clark Kent

pet play

Henry: is pretty into it. likes watching you crawl on all fours towards him--that sight always gets him hard as a rock.

August: loves it. craves it, even. he bought you a collar on your third date and loves that you like to wear it even when you’re not playing, just chilling around the house. likes the idea of owning you and likes treating you like his pet.

Geralt: not really into it himself, but if it’s something you’re interested in, he’s willing to try it a couple times. it doesn’t take long for him to realize that it doesn’t work for him though.

Walter: not his style. he’s got no problem being dominant in the bedroom, but his kinks lie elsewhere.

Clark: likes the idea, but honestly? he’d rather be the pet;)

degradation/humiliation

Henry: will do it to an extent. he knows how powerful words are and won’t use them as a weapon against you. has no problem calling you his little slut though.

August: loves to degrade you when you’re playing, especially since everything he says about you is true (that you’re such a slut for him, always wanting him to take you, willing to do whatever it takes to get fucked, etc.). his favorite names for you are usually the meanest.

Geralt: doesn’t like it. he’s been degraded and humiliated by the public enough for it to leave a scar and he’s not about to bring it into the bedroom. he’ll physically be rough with you, but not vocally.

Walter: will call you his little slut when you’re fucking, but not more than that. he knows you’re sensitive and is always cautious about it, especially since he’s used to seeing such extreme brutality all day long.

Clark: doesn’t like it. at all. he’s a lot more into praising.

fertility/breeding

Henry: definitely has a breeding kink! he wants a family and has always been clear about that, but will wait until you’re ready before he lets his breeding kink jump out.

August: despite his addiction to coming inside of you every time, he wants nothing to do with kids. this is one of the few kinks that is a turn off for him. he forces you to get on the pill before he’ll even go near you.

Geralt: he’s definitely into creampies, but due to witchers being infertile, there’s not really a point for him to try to breed you. doesn’t mean he can’t imagine though.

Walter: he’s already got Faye and struggling to parent her, so he’s not quick to jump on this. but once you express your interest to him, you best believe he’s coming inside of you every time you have sex.

Clark: waits until you’re ready, but is more than willing to try and breed you. loves the idea of little toddlers that have your eyes running around and driving him crazy.

lactation

Henry: when you get pregnant, he loves watching your breasts grow with your stomach and is unable to keep his hands and mouth off your nipples. it gets even worse when you start breastfeeding. definitely has this kink, though is surprised to find out he does.

August: again, not a turn on. he’s all about nipple play but nothing to do with pregnancy or kids.

Geralt: has never experienced it, so he’s not able to say one way or the other.

Walter: yes. he loves the way he can easily suck on your nipples and get you dripping within seconds. (surprisingly) loves the taste of it too.

Clark: lactation kink? is a thing?? he’ll have to try it out before he decides if he likes it or not, so he guesses he’s got to start working on putting a baby in you. for science purposes, ya know?

teasing/denied orgasms

Henry: only as a punishment. usually he prefers to overstimulate you until you’re practically incoherent.

August: his favorite form of foreplay

Geralt: only if you’re teasing him first, and then he’s not going to let you cum for the rest of the night. you’ll learn soon enough not to tease him when he can’t do anything to quench his thirst.

Walter: rarely has time for sex, and even more rarely does he have enough time to go slow. but on date night when you have each other alone all night long, he’s definitely teasing you all over until you’re crying.

Clark: doesn’t realize he’s as into it as he is until you first start to have rough sex. usually he’s a giver in the bedroom, but once he learns that you want to see a different side of him, he can tease you for hours.

face slapping

Henry: occasionally will slap your face with his cock when you’re giving him a nice, dirty blowjob, but otherwise prefers to keep the slapping to your ass and thighs

August: loves it. especially when you’re riding him. the gasps you make always turn him on so much.

Geralt: loves slapping your cheeks with his cock. does it every time you give him a blowjob.

Walter: prefers to choke you. or slap your ass when he’s taking you from behind.

Clark: only wants to slap your ass, and only if you ask him several times beforehand.

leaving marks

Henry: of course! he’ll mark up your entire body, but his favorite place is between your thighs. also secretly loves it when he’s spanked you particularly hard and it leaves behind a huge, red handprint.

August: this is one of his favorite kinks. will bruise you and make your skin red until you’re sore for days.

Geralt: has a thing with biting you for some reason. loves leaving hickeys on your stomach and neck.

Walter: likes it when he makes your ass red, but otherwise he prefers to be the one getting marks. loves it when you leave hickeys on his shoulders and neck. makes him feel like a horny high school kid all over again.

Clark: doesn’t like it, particularly because he only sees it as a reminder that he was too rough with you and too loose with his power. but loves, loves, loves being marked up by you. you love to bite him around his hips and naval and will send you shirtless selfies days later with the blue and purple bruises.

sugar daddy

Henry: loves to spoil his girl, but doesn’t do it so he can get sex in return (because he knows you’ll sleep with him either way). he just does it because he always thinks about you when he’s out filming in some foreign country, or when he’s at home and killing time on the weekend with you. he has no problem spending his money on you.

August: 100% a sugar daddy. loves spending all of his money on you, especially when it comes to buying you lingerie. he always ends up ripping it off your body the first time you wear it for him, though.

Geralt: not really, since his lifestyle keeps him from affording it. whenever he does get coin, he’ll buy you a nice dinner and maybe even a new dress if you need one, but it doesn’t really get him going. rather, it makes him feel like a worthy significant other to provide for you.

Walter: doesn’t spend money unless he has to, and buying you things in exchange for sex isn’t his deal.

Clark: once he joins the justice league and starts making good money, he’s all about spoiling you, especially if it means buying you pretty things that he gets to help you step out of at the end of the night.

domestic (what are they like in a relationship, other than the sex?)

Henry: he’s all about spending quality time with you, whether that means coercing you into a morning jog with him and Kal or curling up on the couch to snuggle and watch a movie. he’s your biggest fan and loves to talk your ear off about the things he’s passionate about (which is pretty much everything). also loves to cook for you.

August: if he’s not eating, sleeping, or having sex with you, he’s not with you. he isn’t big on quality time and is usually away on another mission.

Geralt: he’s away a lot due to monster hunting, but he also likes to take you to different towns and show you parts of the world. you’re always wanting to poke his brain for little facts about things he knows about certain places, or what monsters he fought in what town, etc. basically, it’s a lot of traveling, talking, and trying new foods at different inns in different countries.

Walter: like August, he’s usually away for work, but it’s not because he doesn’t want to spend time with you. he does, badly. but he’s a workaholic and the nature of his job demands outrageous hours, so he’s rarely home.

Clark: when he’s not helping to save the world, he’s with you. his favorite thing to do with you is sleep together; he loves the way you snuggle up to him and how you snore softly when you’re in a deep, peaceful sleep. but he’s also into nature and loves going all over to hike a new trail. he’s a bit into photography and loves to take pictures of you while you’re hiking, he thinks you look so ethereal in the woods with the sunlight breaking through.

***

Taglist:

@agniavateira​ @hnryycvll​ @littlefreya​ @celestial-vomit​ @lestersglitterglue​ @watermeloncavill​ @honeychicana​ @penwieldingdreamer​ @elixasays​ @buckysgoldenheart​ @noz4a2​ @trippedmetaldetector​ @omgkatinka​ @sunflowerstan​

[pink-sheep]

The World Below

Pairing: Arc × Asra Alnazar

Ratings: Hurt/comfort

'Come join us, Ilya. ____ gives the most wonderful hugs.' -Asra to Julian, Book XI: Justice

===

A whole year passed by. The plague gradually went away, but the people's grief for their lost loved ones didn't. Sad music can be heard all over the streets of Vesuvia, and as the vesuvian people are mourning, one magician isn't.

Asra smiles fondly at the sight of his lover friend, sitting by the window, looking at the people below with a curious look on her face. They're at the second floor of their house, and she is too engrossed with looking down at the people outside to even cause a sound that the place has been quiet for a while, save for Faust's occasional hisses.

He hasn't told her, yet. What happened to her... Asra don't think it's a good idea to tell her right now. He doesn't think she can handle knowing it right now.

But still, he celebrates for the little moment, he is happy that she's finally recovering, albeit slow.

"Arc," Asra calls but frowns when she didn't reply, seemingly too distracted by what she's looking at. Asra starts to move from his place to Arc, sitting across from her infront of the window. Asra sits indian-style while Arc sits on her knees.

"What are you looking at, hmm?" He asks, a playful smile plastered on his face.

She finally looks at him, her green eyes wide and big, no doubt fascinated and curious. It reminds Asra of the look children gives when they just finished looking at ants.

"Master," Arc says and Asra internally cringes at the name. She points a finger outside, "People?"

Due to her just being revived, Arc lost her ability to communicate properly. Asra has to teach her their language from scratch and she's still having a hard time grasping on words and pronunciations. She can't even speak complete sentences yet. Luckily, Asra knows her well enough to know she's asking about why the people outside are sad.

Arc can't know about it yet. Maybe he'll tell it to her next year, maybe even the next next next month, but not now. Asra can't have what happened before happen today. He can't risk breaking her, so, he just leans outside, looking for something to subtly redirect Arc's focus. Luckily, he found one. "Look, Arc. The baker!"

Arc suddenly leans outside that Asra instinctively grabs the back of her shirt. "Careful!" he scolds.

"Selasi!" Asra ignores the mild irritation at the thought that Arc knows and calls the baker by his name, but not him. "Pumpkin bread, pumpkin bread!"

He think it's cute how Arc associates Selasi by his pumpkin bread. He wonders what kind of thing Arc associates him with.

Arc leans back with a frown.

"What's wrong?" Asra asks. He leans outside to see that Selasi didn't stop to greet Arc back but his face is solemn and distracted. Even though he is below them, Asra could still see Selasi's face, and it didn't took much thinking to know that he is grieving.

Asra looks back at Arc. How do you even explain grieving?

Asra knows grief a lot. He felt it, spent time with it. Until now he can still feel its ghost.

He doesn't want Arc to experience grief. She grieved a lot before, when her patients were all succumbing to the plague. She didn't need to experience that again.

Remembering the bad memories, Asra stood up and draw the curtains close. The curtains are sheer that it doesn't really hide anything but it does obstruct the view. He ignores the look Arc gives him.

"Master!" Arc tries to reprimand, her eyebrows forced together. Asra isn't fazed.

Before he could reply back, a loud music was heard. Asra looks through the window and outside, he sees someone new.

A musician holding a violin, playing it with a serious look. A sad note is what the musician is playing and the sad atmosphere before became even more depressing.

Asra lets out a sigh. The never ending depressive state Vesuvia is in couldn't possibly be good for Arc's health.

Speaking of Arc's health, Asra turns to look down only to see that Arc is not seated on her previous spot. He quickly turns around and breathes a relieved sigh when he saw that Arc is just standing in the middle of their bedroom.

But she isn't just standing.

She's doing something weird with her limbs. She raises one arm up and curves it over her head, her other arm just hanging mid-air to her side. She tilts her weight on one foot and began to spin.

Asra only then realizes that she's trying to dance to the music.

She spins again and again. Happy even though the song is sad. The sight of her smile the only thing stopping Asra from coming over to her to stop her from spinning before she becomes dizzy.

It's been so long since he saw that. The last memory he remembers of her smiling so earnestly was when she was talking about a possible cure for the plague. Her eyes was beginning to shine with desperate hope.

Asra's throat tightens when he remembers what happened next.

"...Master?" Arc calls out.

Asra snaps out of his daze. His eyes focusing back to Arc only to see that she stopped dancing. She's looking at him with a frown, and before he can stop her from worrying about him, she already closed the distance between them and hugged him tight.

"Don't cry, Asra." Asra's eyes widen partly cause of shock because she called him his real name and also because he's not crying!

But when he looks down at Arc, a drop of tear falls down on top of Arc's hair.

A moment passed through as Asra tries to assess what was happening but by then, his tears are already at the bay.

He tries to hold back the tears. He didn't want Arc to see him like this. He needs to be strong right now. He needs to be strong for the both of them. He needs to be strong for her.

But the tears refused to be held back. The feeling he felt from the memories he keeps on trying to bury is too heavy to be kept inside and needed to be let out. Asra only wishes Arc isn't seeing him like this, he was the one who's suppose to do the comforting.

He feels Arc hides on the crook of his neck while on his arm, he can feel Faust slithering and squeezing it. The action her own way of comforting.

"Asraaaa," Faust whispers, worried for her friend. She nudges her head to Asra's cheek. Her head getting slightly damp from the tears spilling out of his eyes but she doesn't seem to mind.

Arc stops hiding on his neck. She instead also nudged Asra's other cheek with her head too.

In this position, Asra can feel Arc's prickly hair poking him but he doesn't care. Too focused on trying to calm himself and at the same time, basking on the feeling of how his loved ones' arms (and tail) is wrapped around him.

The limbs wrapped around him feels like an armor. It feels stuffy and crowded at the best possible way. He feels guarded and safe. The hug offering him warmth and protection and the cold he feels before is now gone.

It is then that Asra remembers, right then and there in their shared bedroom, even with the sad music playing outside and the dark, cold sky looms over Vesuvia, even with the sad memories on his mind, that as long as he's near her, he is warm.

==

[bigfan-fanfic]

Taken Away (Batdad Reader Headcanons)

Requested by an affectionate cherry anon for Batdad who suddenly dies of a heart attack

Sorry everyone wanting fluff - angst ahead!

You were all out together, having dinner at some run-down diner in one of Gotham’s poorer neighborhoods. They had the best shakes, though.

It’s a nice night. No villains, nothing happening. You’ve been in a wonderful mood, joking and laughing with the boys. Bruce has been extra-affectionate.

And suddenly - something’s wrong.

It starts as a dull pain in the center of your chest, and suddenly it feels like someone’s squeezing you from within.

Dick’s the first to notice something wrong, and he’s already calling 911 by the time you start to slip forward, everything slipping away...

There’s nothing that can be done. Bruce doesn’t lose his calm at first, properly administering CPR until the doctors arrive.

All attempts to resuscitate you fail.

And finally, a doctor in the Thomas and Martha Wayne Memorial Hospital pronounces you deceased.

Dick

Dick is inconsolable

Sometimes he’ll be unable to breathe from how much he misses you.

The trauma and stress of the loss causes him to retire permanently as Nightwing.

He can’t bear to be anywhere near Gotham anymore - the whole city reminds him too much of you.

Eventually he recovers, after attending grief counseling and therapy, as well as lots of support from his friends.

And then, Richard Grayson-Wayne dedicates himself to all the causes you championed in life, ensuring that they wouldn’t falter because of your death.

He becomes what Bruce pretended to be, a true Gotham philanthropist.

Jason

He’s torn between anger and hysterical laughter

He’s angry at having lost you, but at the same time, there’s a slightly relieved part of him that thinks at least you died surrounded by loved ones and not alone at the hands of a villain

It breaks him. He no longer cares about living or dying and throws himself into being the Red Hood, not eating, not drinking...

He goes ballistic, although to honor you, he never once kills - although what he does to these criminals might make them wish he did.

He’s also torn over whether or not to exhume your body and put you in a Lazarus Pit - but who knows what you’d be like when you got out?

Eventually he lets go. But it’s after many years, and the mental toll the anguish has taken on him never really ends. However, the others are there for him when things get rough.

Tim

Tim goes through a period of denial at first.

He acts as though you’re still alive, spending a lot of time talking to thin air through the door of Bruce and your bedroom, as if you were sick and on the other side.

The problem is that there’s nobody to blame - just random, horrible chance. There’s no reason, no snappy solution to prevent it from ever happening again.

He goes into bouts of alternating excess activity and lethargy - he can be doing way too much at once to distract himself, and then the next moment he can be lying on his bed, going for hours at a time, never being able to motivate himself to move

He throws himself into his night work afterwards, dropping out of school to go full time. He can’t protect people from chance, but he will do his utmost to protect them from what he can defend against.

Damian

No one expected Damian to emotionally carry the family

But he does.

He grieves just as much as the others, but it does not consume him. He knows that you wouldn’t have wanted that.

He helps Bruce and Alfred prepare your funeral, and even is the only one of the Batfamily who can bring themselves to say something at the funeral. 

Eventually, he quits being Robin. There’s not enough time. He has to live his life, do all the things he’s ever dreamed of doing, for the both of you. 

Damian calls or texts Dick every day to check up on him and give him positive reassurance. He makes sure Tim is healthy, and slips him a sedative when he gets too wired and tries to work himself into exhaustion. He even visits Jason regularly, just to talk, and to listen and be a shoulder to cry on.

While he quits his job at Robin, he takes over your position as public liaison to the Justice League when he comes of age.

 Damian is able to be happy, even after your death, and he serves as an example to the others, and a beacon of light to drag them from the darkness of their grief.

Alfred

Alfred tries to not let his grief get in the way, but it’s as if he’s lost a son.

He is executor of your will, and he makes sure to care for Bruce and the kids.

But it always feels like something’s missing, as if some vital cog has been removed from life.

He becomes acting head of Wayne Enterprises since Bruce is...indisposed.

He can hardly bear to enter the Batcave, and leaves operations to Barbara. He still does medical operations for Batman.

Damian pulls him out of his funk, and Alfred wholeheartedly assists in bringing the family back, believing it the best way to honor you.

Bruce Batman

Withdraws.

There’s no point to interacting with anyone beyond Alfred, his sons, and the League.

Bruce Wayne ceases to exist. There is only Batman. No more parties, no more Wayne Enterprises, no more public appearances as Bruce. Officially, Bruce’s disappearance is due to a broken heart and grief, and occasional press reports will indicate that he is indeed alive, although not considering returning to public life.

The villains of Gotham and the world need to watch out. Batman no longer seeks to rehabilitate - only arrest and take down.

Eventually Damian, Alfred, and the other boys bring him back. A part of him hates himself for not being able to save you.

But while he never gets over his grief, he lets go of his guilt.

And whenever he sleeps, he dreams of the two of you together once more...

[acockius]

Hi Heather! I see you're taking some blurb requests 👀 could you maybe do a little something with Mr. Lee, perhaps where he's being a grumpy boots and you try to get him into the holiday spirit? 🖤🖤

i sure am, and as long as y’all keep requesting, i’ll keep providing lol. i’m pretty sure this is my first ever gwilym fic, so i hope i do him justice. let me know your thoughts.

request a holiday blurb/hc 

You could tell that Gwilym was having a rough day by how he was answering your texts. His texts were always wordy, with perfect punctuation and grammar; but today was different. Whenever Gwilym wasn’t himself, he replied with one or two word answers, without proper punctuation, and with the occasional abbreviation. It was now your mission to find something to brighten your man’s day by the time you’d return home.

Gwilym had mixed up the dates in his schedule and missed his appointment to audition for a role that he so desperately wanted. By the time he’d reached the studio, they weren’t able to accommodate him with a new a time slot. The casting directors would try to see him another day, but it wasn’t guaranteed that he’d be seen at all. He probably had already made an awful impression and wouldn’t even get the part anyway. 

The winter weather had been fierce, and normally it didn’t bother Gwilym. He was actually a huge fan of the occasional winter storm that would pour mounds upon mounds of snow as far as the eye could see. But on the way home, a gust of wind blew his annotated sides into a puddle of slush. It seemed that they could be salvaged but he wouldn’t know until they dried completely. 

To make matters worse, when Gwilym returned home seeking solace from the inconveniences of the outside world, he soon discovered that your shared flat had no heat. He tried and tried to get your super on the phone, but all he could do was leave a message. That left Gwilym with no choice but to bundle up in a thick jumper and your coziest blanket.

Gwilym was completely fed up with today. To say that he’d found himself wrapped up in a series of unfortunate events was an understatement. The holiday bustle was thriving around him but he couldn’t be bothered to take part in it due to his sour mood.

When you returned home, you could tell that the heat hadn’t been restored. Upon entering your flat, you saw your grumpy boyfriend huddled under your favorite blanket on the couch, scanning over heavily crumpled sheets of paper.

“Honey, I’m home.” You announced in sing-song. It didn’t earn anything but a grumble from the man in the living room. It seemed that this might be more difficult that you’d anticipated. 

You took off your coat and boots in the doorway and hung them to dry before retrieving what you’d hope would be the day’s saving grace. You gingerly walked to the couch and read the sides over Gwilym’s shoulder. The lettering was faded and the highlighting was streaked, but he remained focus nonetheless. 

You gently combed your fingers through Gwilym’s hair, somewhat shocked when he flinched and pulled away from your touch.

“Not now,” He protested in a stern tone. 

You sighed and walked around the couch to stand in front of Gwilym. 

“Hey there, Mr. Grumpy Gills....” You pouted playfully, adjusting your height to try and make eye contact with him.

“Dove, I am not in the mood for your games.” Gwilym didn’t even look up from his papers to reject you once again. 

You pulled your playful prop from behind your back and dangled it above Gwilym’s head.

“Oh, but ‘tis not a game, Mr. Lee. It’s the law of the plant, you see.” 

“The law of the plant?” Gwilym inquired, lifting his eyes to peer at you over his glasses.

“But of course!” You began, straddling his lap. “We cannot not kiss when we’re under mistletoe. It is a universally known rule.”

“Is it now?” Gwilym’s voice was coated with think condescendence. “You’re bloody mad, you are.”

“Perhaps I am mad. But only for one Gwilym Lee, that is.” You playfully waved the plant that you held above Gwilym’s head. 

“Bugger off, love.” Gwilym adjusted the glasses that were perched on his nose and placed his sides in front of his face again.

You let out a huff, dropping your arm from above you. It wasn’t often that Gwilym found himself in such a foul mood. You couldn’t help but continue to get him out of it.

“I am just going to do what the plant has sent me here to do, and then I’ll be on my way.” You assured. “You don’t even have to pay attention to me; keep on studying your lines!”

Gwilym did just that - even though he would’ve done so whether or not you’d directed him to. You hung the plant over Gwilym’s head once more and gently pressed your lips to his temple. He flinched slightly, but let the moment pass. You continued by nuzzling Gwilym’s cheek before letting your lips brush against the underside of his jaw. 

You felt Gwilym’s hand fly to your waist, holding you in his lap firmly with his audition material crumpled against you. Your teeth grazed over his pulse point before you began to place deeper kissed into his neck. You couldn’t see Gwilym but the grip on your hips and the way his breath hitched made it seem as if you’d cracked the facade he’d worked so hard in maintaining.

Before you could think, Gwilym’s other hand brought your face to his before he planted a bruising kiss to your lips. You couldn’t help but whimper quietly, bracing yourself against his chest with your free hand. Gwilym then set his sides down so that he could take the mistletoe from you.

“It seems that the law of the plant is just too strong for me to battle.” Gwilym teased. “I think you, me, and ‘Miss LeToe’ should go work on getting warm in the bedroom.”

Your Gwilym always had the best idea.

[team-free-will-you-idjits-67]

Milestones (Part Three)

Description: It’s your and Jensen’s Wedding Day. 

Characters: Jensen Ackles, Reader, Genevieve Padalecki, Jared Padalecki, Your Best Friend Abby, Danneel Ackles, Justice Ackles, Arrow Ackles, Zeppelin Ackles, Alan Ackles, Donna Ackles, Misha Collins. 

Relationship: Jensen Ackles x Reader

Warnings: PURE FLUFF.

Word Count: 2031

A/N: Part three for @dean-winchesters-bacon! I know I said soon, well soon ended up being tonight lmao. (Also, thank you for this surprise fic art from @time-travel-bouqet, it’s beautiful and fits perfectly!)Thank you @the-is13 for betaing this for me. I appreciate it so much omg. 

PART ONE , PART TWO

TAGLIST

MASTERLIST / JENSEN ACKLES MASTERLIST

“Breathe, Y/N,” Genevieve pleaded with you as she fussed with your hair.

Abby, your best friend, piped up from behind you as she zipped your dress, “Yeah, breathe chick. Everything is going to be fine. Jensen is going to lose it when he,” you could feel her hook the top of the zipper together and then step beside you, “sees you in this.”  

You let out a nervous chuckle as you tried peaking a view in the mirror around Gen, but her short stature in heels still somehow blocked your view. “I know guys, it’s just, this is a huge step. We’ve been together for years but today makes things different.”

Gen smiled as she left your hair alone, placing her hands on your arms to comfort you. “I know hun. I was the same way with Jare. But, Abby is right. Jensen is going to lose it when he sees you.” She stepped to your side opposite the one Abby was standing on, letting you finally see yourself in the mirror.

You softly gasped. Was that really you? You stared at yourself, dumbfounded at how the girl in the mirror looked. Her Y/E/C eye’s emphasized to a piercing hue by eyeshadow and eyeliner. Her plump, pink lips glossed over. Her Y/E/C, longer than usual thanks to extensions, cascaded down her front in loose curls over her soft blue wedding dress. The dress clung to her curves in all the right places, accentuating all the parts of her body that Jensen loved.

But her was you.

You looked between Gen and Abby, “How… How did you guys do this?”

Gen giggled, “We didn’t do anything but enhance your natural beauty.”

You rolled your eyes towards her, “Well, I would never be able to do this to myself.” You turned and hugged her, then your best friend, “Thank you guys. For everything, especially doing this,” you said as you motioned towards yourself, “since I didn’t want a whole makeup team.”

Abby shrugged, “Even if you did, I wouldn’t have let them touch you.”

The three of you chuckled as a knock rapped on the door. “Y’all decent? Can I come in?”

Gen walked towards the door, still chuckling, “Come in, babe.”

Jared stepped through the bridal suites threshold, giving Gen a quick kiss. “You look beautiful, babe.” He turned towards you, as his eyes grew wide, “Wow, Y/N. Jensen, Jensen is going to lose it.”

You couldn’t help but giggle, “Everyone keeps saying that.”

He came towards you, enveloping you in a strong and warm hug, “Well, we’re right.” He looked towards Abby, “Y’all look great.”

“Thanks Jared.” She glanced towards the closed door and asked, “How’s the groom?”

Jared smiled, “Excited and nervous.” He laid a hand on your arm, “He’s ready to make you Mrs. Ackles, that’s for sure.”

You bit at your lip, forgetting about the gloss, “I’m ready to be Mrs. Ackles.”

Jared did a silent cheer, throwing fists into the air and causing you all to erupt into giggles. He walked towards the door, “I’ll go back to the groom so we can get things started!”

Abby walked around you, checking over your hair and makeup one last time before she placed her hands on your arms like both Jared and Gen had in the last ten minutes. She rubbed your arms softly, “I’m so happy for you, Y/N. You finally found your prince charming.” You nodded as she started to tear up, “you deserve this, to be happy, after everything you’ve been through,” the dam broke, “That’s all I ever wanted for you hun, you deserve all the happiness in the world, and then some.” She hugged you tightly and continued to cry, only to pull back and have Gen blot her face to save some of her makeup.

You playfully smacked her arm as you blotted at the tears that fell on your face, “You’re going to make me ruin the masterpiece you created!”

“Don’t worry, I can fix anything that may be messed up.” She chuckled as he checked her face in the mirror, “But, there’s a reason why I used waterproof mascara.”

Another knock came at the door, “Abby, Gen, we’re lining up now.”

Gen hugged you softly, “You going to be okay, Y/N?”

You nodded, “Yeah Gen, see ya in a few.”

The girls grabbed their bouquets, leaving yours on a chair by the door, as you walked towards the mirror to look over yourself again.

Taking a deep breath, you smoothed your hands over your dress and then walked towards the door to grab your bouquet. You cracked the door, peeking out to see if the wedding party had begun walking down the aisle yet. But, the owner of the small church walked towards your room, blocking your view.

“Y/N. You can line up at the door now, everyone is up front.”

You opened the door slowly before walking out into the hallway. As you stopped in front of the grand, black doors that separated you from the ceremony, the owner of the church fixed your dress behind you. You mouthed ‘thank you’ towards her before you could hear a muffled Here Comes the Bride on the other side of the door.

The owner steps up beside you, “The doors will open on three and then you can begin walking, okay?”

You nodded and took one final breath as she counted to three on her fingers in front of you.

Light flooded your eyes as the doors opened slowly. As your eyes grew accustomed to the sensory overload, they darted down towards the front of the church and landed on Jensen. A large smile crept across your face as you watched your soon-to-be husband. He wrung his hands at his chest as he bit his lip in excitement.

Your eyes never left each other as you made your way towards him. As you approached, you turned towards Abby, handing her your bouquet before she straightened out your dress.

Turning back towards Jensen, your hands slipped into his as he stared down at you in adoration. “You look absolutely beautiful, sweetheart.”

Before you could respond, the pastor began the ceremony. You vaguely registered what he said, saying the vows he asked you to say when prompted, but your attention was mainly focused on Jensen. The way his emerald-green eyes sparkled as he looked at you, how his hands squeezed yours periodically with excitement, and how the tip of his tongue laid across his bottom lip occasionally.

Before you knew it, the pastor said, “You may kiss the bride.”

Jensen’s hands cupped your cheeks softly before his lips came crashing down against yours. As he pulled away, you chuckled at the gloss stuck to his own lips before Abby patted you on the shoulder and handed you your bouquet. You nodded towards her in thanks before you and Jensen ran up the aisle.

You both ran until you stopped in the private room you were going to be meeting with your guests before your reception. Jensen picked you up and spun you around the room, causing you to giggle, before he kissed you once more. “Y/N, my god.” He set you down, taking one hand into his before twirling you slowly, “You look, breathtaking.”

You looked down towards your dress, “Yeah? Thank Gen and Abby, only they could do this.”

Jensen shook his head,  “No, you always look beautiful. But, now? Being Mrs. Ackles makes you even more beautiful.”

You hit his shoulder playfully, “You’re too cheesy, Jay.”

He chuckled as he rubbed his arm dramatically, “I know,” he pick you up again, “You love it though.” His lips connected with yours again, softer this time but with no less passion, before he set you down. “I’m never going to get tired of calling you Mrs. Y/N Ackles though.” You placed another small kiss on his lips before guests started to filter into the room.

You both mingled for a short period of time before you were pulled away to be taken to your reception venue.

As you both sat in the limousine, Jensen squeezed your hand, “Mrs. Y/N Ackles. Mm!” You looked towards him, a goofy smile plastered across his face, “Music to my ears.”

You shook your head and laughed as the limousine pulled up to Jensen’s family Lake House. His mother and father had went above and beyond, decorating the trees and patio with fairy lights, setting the tables with orchids and candles, and lining a huge buffet table with food.

You and Jensen walked into the house, hand in hand, to find Alan and Donna.

Alan rounded the corner from the kitchen, a large plate of food in hand, before he stopped and grinned, “Hey you two!” He craned his head back towards the kitchen as he yelled, “Donna! They’re here!”

You heard a squeal from the kitchen before Donna burst out of the door and wrapped you in a warm hug. She stepped back as she ogled over your dress, “Oh, Y/N. You were so beautiful, you are so beautiful.” She turned towards Jensen, kissing him on the cheek, “Hi honey.” She lowered her voice and stepped closer to you both, “Go out and steal some food before everyone else arrives.”

Jensen chuckled, “Alright, mom.” He stepped away and called over his shoulder, “I’ll grab you something too, sweetheart.”

“Okay, babe.” You turned back towards Donna, “Thank you so much, for all of this. It looks amazing outside.”

She waved you off, “It was nothing dear. Afterall, we just want the best for you and Jense.”

“We appreciate your hospitality and offering to put all this on for us,” you said blushing slightly. “I wish my parents were here to help you out but..-“

She cut you off, “Don’t worry about it, Y/N. You’re family now. We take care of family.”  

Jensen rushed back in with a plate and a half full of food, “People are starting to pull up outside, we gotta hide, sweetheart.”

You both walked to the back of the house, sneaking into the master bedroom, before guests saw you. You both grazed slowly as you waited for the guests to filter in and be seated. When you both heard music begin to play and the DJ talk into the mic, announcing the wedding party, you both stopped eating and made your way slowly out the door.

“And, finally. The moment you’ve all been waiting for,” the DJ peered into the house, waiting for a go ahead from Donna. She rushed towards you both, lightly pushing you towards the door as the DJ announced, “Mr. and Mrs. Jensen Ackles!”

Jensen took your hand before you both walked out onto the patio, raising your hands above your heads as he cheered, “Yeah!”

Your guests, made up of: Jared, Gen, Misha, Vicki, Abby, Daneel, her husband; Mike, Justice, Arrow, Zeppelin, Alan, Donna, and a small splattering of other close family members and friends of both yours and Jensen’s began chanting, “Kiss her! Kiss her! Kiss her!”

You cheeks turned a deep crimson as Jensen grabbed your waist and dipped you before kissing you. The crowd erupted in laughter and cheers.

As Jensen helped you stand back up, the DJ voice filtered through speakers set up around the patio, “Okay guys. It’s time for the couple’s first dance. They’re dedicating this dance to Y/N’s late parents, dancing to their first dance song, Stand by Me.”

As you and Jensen came together, moving slowly to the rhythm of the music, tears started to fall down your face slowly as you danced. Jensen brushed a tear away before kissing your forehead and pulling you closer to him. You swayed in a tight embrace as the loss of your parents hit you hard.

It was the worst, not having them finally see you be happy and experience this day with you. But you knew they were here, in some way, watching over you.

Jensen whispered into your ear as you both continued to dance, “I love you, Mrs. Y/N Ackles.”

“And I love you, Mr. Jensen Ackles.”

Tags:

FOREVER TAGS:

@emoryhemsworth , @nanie5 , @gabrielslittleangel, @alexwinchester23 , @witch-of-letters , @caswinchester2000 , @justawaywardwinchester , @thehufflepuffblog , @missihart23 , @spnfamily-alwayskeepfighting, @mogaruke, @supernaturalsammy01, @heyitscam99, @hobby27, @frozenhuntress67, @duskany, @mazie87 , @tumbler-tidbits , @mersuperwholocked-lowlife, @asfanfiction , @emilyshurley , @zephyrie , @ghostshadow1312 , @wholockmerlinlover, @singers-auto, @lokilove3112, @teddybeardoctorr,

DEAN/JENSEN X READER TAGS:

@xxtheoutsidersxx, @betsy-bradock, @adoptdontshoppets, @dean-winchesters-bacon , @jerkbitchidjitassbutt,

MILESTONES:

@mirandaaustin93 , @wayward-gypsy