#his grave where i got lost and a little tipsy...

[fauvester]

"are you wearing the-" "the robert land reproduction 1860 balmoral boots? to Ashland the Henry Clay Estate? yeah"

[brighttears]

Stranger Chapter 2

Joel Miller x f!reader

No physical description

Summary: After your argument, Tommy finds Joel, and they talk at the bar. Joel learns more about what has happened to you since he left, and is once again left reeling, and has to reconsider his attitude. As it turns out, you’re neighbors, and he catches sight of you that night.

Word count: 4.8k

Warnings: Talk of violence, reader is traumatized, Joel hates himself.

A/n: May have pushed it a little far with character building here but stay with me. Also a brief moment of lightheartedness between the boys

series masterlist

—

A cold and desolate breeze and Joel’s huffed breaths are the only sound as he stands there on your porch, staring at the door. His legs feel numb, preventing him from retreating as he's struck with an overwhelming feeling of helplessness and loss. 

Eventually, he takes a deep breath, letting it out in a heavy, shaky sigh, as if he’s gotten the breath knocked out of him and is just now getting it back. He’s still tense, body like a coiled spring. 

Finally, he turns and steps off of your porch, shoes crunching in the thin blanket of snow covering the dirt road, and is utterly lost. 

Hands shoved in his pockets and shoulders hunched against the winter wind, he walks, trying to process what just went down, as well as the unfamiliar world around him. Despite the general friendly air of Jackson, he feels just as alone as he has for the last few months. Out of place, alien, dazed, the memory of your snarl, the raging fire in your eyes, etched into the forefront of his brain. 

You’ve changed into someone almost unrecognizable, and it’s just as disconcerting as it is depressing.  What happened to that kind girl he used to know? The one that took the time to sit with a deer after she’d killed it, that never gave up her soft spot for children, who would sing softly in the night when she knew he wasn’t really sleeping? 

He doesn’t know where you’ve gone, or if he’ll ever get you back, and the realization gives him a horrified kind of goosebumps, sucking a sharp breath out of him. 

Lost in thought, he doesn’t register the footsteps behind him, not realizing Tommy’s there until he speaks, “So, how’d it go?” There’s a hopeful grimace on his face when Joel turns to him, but it only gives him a surge of frustration, suddenly feeling like Tommy knowingly set him up for failure. 

“Poorly.” Joel states flatly, shooting him a look before turning back to walk aimlessly down the road. Tommy jogs to fall in step beside him, eyes flicking over the near scowl on his brother's face. 

“I was hoping you wouldn’t say that.” He says, but Joel doesn’t reply. “Wanna get a drink?” Tommy tries, and after only a short pause, Joel nods curtly. “Yeah. A drink sounds great right now.”

It’s a silent walk to the Tipsy Bison, Joel’s thoughts still churning, his brother glancing at him from time to time, a concerned pinch between his brows, all the way until they’re sat down at the empty bar, a couple shots of whiskey in each of their glasses. 

“So,” Tommy starts, still watching him as he traces the thick ribbing on the side of his glass, eyes locked on the golden liquid. “…How bad was it?”

“Pretty fuckin’ bad.” Joel grumbles. “I think she would’ve ripped my god damn throat out if I’d said one more word.”

Tommy pauses, holding his breath for a moment. Joel flicks his eyes up, seeing that look, and he suddenly feels his stomach drop. “What?” 

“She uh…” Tommy looks down at the table, holding his breath for another short moment before he bluntly answers, “she did that once, ripped someone’s throat out.”

Chills run through Joel’s entire body at that, shocked into silence for a moment, staring at the grave look on his brother's face. 

“She what?” He finally manages to speak, voice tight. 

Slowly, Tommy nods, looking down at his glass as he fiddles with it. “She told me the story about a month after she got here. Just last year, some big guy… you know, tried to do what guys sometimes try to do to a woman they find alone. Came pretty damn close, apparently, too. Had her all, uh, tied up, but… she still had her teeth. So, she bit. And pulled. Ripped his jugular open, I guess—not his throat, exactly, but…” Tommy trails off, swallowing, brow knit as he stares down at the bar. 

Joel gawks at him, unable to find a way to respond.

He can’t imagine you doing that. At least, not the you that he knows. But then Tommy responds to that thought itself, voice almost hoarse as he looks back at him, grief in his eyes, “She’s not the girl we used to know.”

After a moment, Joel nods. He knew that. He understood it the second your eyes changed, by the way you had bared your teeth—and when he thinks of that, he can imagine you sinking them into a human being. One that deserved it, but a human being all the same. 

The days of mild annoyance over your inclination for mercy are over, but it only makes him feel sick to his stomach. 

With a deep sigh, Joel rubs his hand over his face, trying to collect himself, not show just how disturbed he is by the image of you being that violent, by the confirmation of that thought, that you’re gone— “I don’t know what I was thinking.” He grumbles. “I knew she’d be mad, but, fuck. I thought she might be a little happy to see me.” He sighs through his hands before dropping them to the bar, shaking his bowed head. “It was stupid.” He mumbles.

“You had no way of knowing what she’d been through.” Tommy says, the dripping sympathy only irking an already sensitive Joel. “I didn’t either.” He continues, “And, I thought that… the way she was when she got here would go away, but… well it did a little bit, but…” he shakes his head slowly, “Not much.” 

Joel nods back, a sense of resignation in the gesture. He takes a sip of whiskey, wanting the burn down his throat to drown out that wave of nausea in his stomach. Memories of the way you used to be play in his mind, mixed with the image of that feral gleam in your eye, right before the door slammed shut in his face. 

After a moment, he speaks quietly, “She was so angry. …I’ve never seen her like that.” 

In vain hopes of somehow scrubbing the images off of the backs of his eyelids, Joel rubs his hands over his face with another deep sigh.

“I know.” Tommy replies, pausing, his eyes flicking over the bar. “I get glimpses of her.” He nods softly, “here and there. She’s… she’s not gone, just… different.”

Despite his words, Joel is suddenly hit with a screaming sense of grief, as if it only just sunk in now that he has to mourn you. The one that he knows. Someone that he may never, ever see again. 

He swings his glass back against his lips, taking a gulp of liquor, welcoming the burn. He wants to drown it out. Memories. Reality. 

He just got here, finally, the place he’d been aiming for for months—harsh, bleak, soul sucking months, the place he shed buckets of blood, sweat, and tears for, finally, sitting here having a whiskey with his brother, and he wants to drown. 

Because it’s his fault. 

He’s silent for a while as he ruminates, a heavy, grim air between the two. There’s an empty sort of feeling in Joel’s gut, and it suddenly makes him chuckle—a bitter, sour huff of a laugh. “Feels wrong.” He says, cutting the silence. 

“What does?” Tommy asks, giving him a puzzled look, clearly caught off guard by the laugh. 

“It feels wrong, knowing she’s… she’s right there, but… she’s not.” He explains, tone grim. He sighs, thoughts still swirling, but there's one thing that he knows for certain. “I shouldn’t’ve left her.”

Tommy shakes his head softly, unable to help but offer, “You just did what you thought was right.”

“Doesn’t change the fact that it was wrong.” Joel retorts, looking at him. Anger again starts to bubble up, a familiar one towards himself, an intense irritation at his own stupidity, his own short-sightedness, and, he realizes, his own selfishness. 

After a beat, Tommy sighs, sounding defeated as he replies, “No, it doesn’t.” He takes a sip of his drink, letting a silent moment go by before he speaks again, “Just don’t give up on her, Joel.”

The gentleness of his tone is sudden and unexpected, and Joel pauses, staring at him. But then he just shakes his head. “What am I supposed to do, Tommy? She wants nothing to do with me. I try anything and she’s gonna bite my fuckin’ head off. Maybe literally.” 

Pursing his lips, Tommy shakes his head, tone soft and earnest, “She ain’t got no one else, Joel. We’re it. She needs us, even if she says she doesn’t, even if she doesn't believe it herself.” Joel lets out a weary sigh at that, suddenly feeling a familiar and unwelcomed weight. 

He never wanted to feel responsible for you, because it comes paired with a foreboding dread, because he’s going to fail. And he did. 

But regardless, he didn’t have a choice then, the need he felt to do anything he could to protect you. And now, with things so dire, of course, he still can’t help it. 

“I don’t even know where to start.” He replies dimly. “She’s like a wild animal.”

“Yeah.” Tommy nods. “You kinda gotta…” he shrugs, words almost measured, “treat her like one. Like she’s… some, feral stray, around people for the first time.” 

At the notion of you actually being comparable to some wild animal, Joel’s heart drops. But then he gets another flash of that look in your eye, and, regretfully, he accepts the sentiment. Gruffly, he then asks, “How the hell do I do that?” 

“Let her come to you.” Tommy tells him, leaning his arms over the bar. “Let her… sniff your hand, y’know? Expect pushback. But don’t give up.” He pauses. “She ain’t that vicious all the time. I’ve had some good times with her since she got here. She likes to help out at the stables, and, garden, you know, help grow vegetables and fruit and all that. She’s calm then.”

It's relieving to know that you do have your moments of peace, both for your own sake and for his own faint yet pressing sense of hope; that maybe he’ll see you again. With another gulp of whiskey, he looks at his brother, “You been spending a lot of time with her?”

Tommy shrugs. “A bit, yeah. She doesn't really talk much to anyone else. A few people, here and there. I guess I’m just the only person she trusts.”

That pushes a huff of a chuckle out of Joel, the sound tinged with a sudden irritation that he finds is a seed of jealousy. He tries to shove it down, not wanting to give any weight to such a childish, immature feeling, not wanting to direct it onto his brother. But still, the jab falls out of his mouth, “Lucky you.”

Tommy pauses, eyeing him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He looks away, unable to meet Tommy’s questioning gaze. His shoulders are tensed, defensive, and he feels yet another wave of irritation, mostly towards himself, but there's also that nagging bit of jealousy. 

It used to be him. It’s supposed to be him. Him and you, against the world. He’s the one you should trust, the one you always did—looked to, relied on, he’s your shoulder to cry on. But at the same time, the opposite is why he left you. Because you shouldn't rely on him, you shouldn’t trust him, because he’ll let you down, and get you killed, and he doesn’t deserve you. And it’s been proven right—just look at you now. You’re right: he fucks up everything, hurts everyone he loves, he’s a failure. It’s all he ever does. He’s poison. No matter how hard he tries, no matter what he does, everything he thinks he’s doing right, he’s done wrong. 

He hurts everyone. 

Everything hurts. 

It’s his fault. 

Failure. 

“Nothin’. Nevermind.” He mumbles.

“I want her to make friends, Joel.” Tommy replies quickly, “I don’t want her to just trust me, I want her to be a part of a community again.” With a huff, he pauses, reading Joel’s implication, tone firm but gentle. “She trusts me because I’m the only person she knew when she got here, and we don’t… have a history, any bad blood. But that don’t mean she’ll hate you forever.” 

Still staring down at the bar, Joel nods along to Tommy’s words, running his tongue over his teeth. He knows he’s right, he understands why you’ve lost all of it in him—of course you have. And he wants that too, for you to have a community, support, some semblance of peace, safety.It’s all just so much to take in, so much confliction, so many heavy emotions, hitting him like a Mack truck, and he’s just been a deer in the headlights. 

But there he remains, staring it down. Because god damn it, he loves you, and he doesn’t know how to stop. 

He has no real choice in the matter. He knows he has a long, uphill battle ahead of him if he wants any chance to fix things between you and him, to be able to be in your life again, to be able to do something to help you. And then there's that tiny seed of hope, stemming from a sense of need. 

You may have told him you don’t need him, and never did, and he may never admit it out loud, but he needs you. He couldn’t even explain why. But he feels it, that pull in his chest, stronger than ever before, now that he knows where you are, could retrace his steps right back to your door. He needs you. So, he’ll do whatever it takes. To make it right. To be there for you. If there’s any softness left in you for him, anything salvageable, he’ll work himself to the bone for it. It doesn’t matter what it takes, if he needs to strip himself bare and flay himself, if he needs to rework is fucking life for it, if he has to face himself, he will.

Because he owes you that. And he needs you. Not just to know you’re alive, safe. He needs to love you.

“Just… don’t give up on her.” Tommy says again, voice soft, expression almost pleading, not knowing that Joel has already made up his mind, responding with a firm shake of his head, set and determined. “I won’t.” 

Tommy looks at him for a moment before the edge of his lip tugs up, a small, hopeful smile crossing his face. Then he sighs, looking down at the bar. “I’m sorry your introduction to Jackson had to be so… rough. Uh, you hungry? Tired? I can show you where you’ll be stayin’ if you wanna sleep.”

Joel shakes his head, sighing as he leans off of the bar, “Don’t really have much of an appetite right now. Sleep sounds nice, though.”

Tommy nods, smile pulling, the weight of the conversation sliding off of him much easier than it does for Joel, “Alright. Come on, then. I’ll show you the way.” He cocks his head towards the door, getting off of his stool. “We’ve got a few vacant houses. All come pre-furnished—when’s the last time you slept in a real bed?”

Having to really think about that, Joel lets out a low whistle as he stands and follows Tommy out of the bar. “Almost half a year ago now, give or take.”

“Damn,” Tommy chuckles, shaking his head as he pushes open the door and steps back out into the cold winter air. “Well, you’re about to have the best damn sleep in probably longer than that.”

Joel sighs, shoving his hands into his pockets and squinting against a harsh wind, watching the dusk starting to settle down over the sky. Part of him is a little apprehensive nervous about his ability to actually sleep, having a feeling that his brain will refuse to shut the fuck up, but there’s also a good chance that he’ll pass out within a minute of finally setting his head down on a pillow; he barely sleep a wink last night, the last couple days before he finally stumbling into Jackson’s territory happening to be particularly rough. “I hope so.” He mumbles. 

“Well… the bed ain’t going anywhere. You’ll have plenty of chances.” His brother gives him a small smile, eyes flicking over his face for a moment. There’s a hesitance before he speaks again, sounding almost nervous, “Right?”

Joel pauses, caught off guard by the fact that Tommy would even think that he wouldn’t be staying. He really doesn’t have an idea of how hard he worked to get here, does he? How he fought his way across the country to get to him. “Yeah.” He nods curtly. “Hell, this isn’t just some wellness check, Tommy. I’m stayin’.”

Tommy breaks into a larger smile, patting his shoulder and letting it rest there for a moment before putting his hands in his pockets. “Good.” 

Joel smiles back at him, pausing to admire the way his brother's eyes crinkle like that, before turning to glance around the town, actually taking in his surroundings for the first time since he got here. There’s not many people around, which makes sense with the falling sun and biting air, but it still feels strange, with the streets of Boston being so constantly overrun, even in the harsh winters. What’s stranger than that, is the peacefulness about it, the relative normalcy. Hell, almost some holiday cheer. It feels alien, and despite it all, he feels a drip of dread in his gut. 

“We got about 300 people here in Jackson, including children.” Tommy begins to inform him, noticing his gaze. “We got electricity, obviously. Running water, sewer, the works, all powered by a hydroelectric dam. Greenhouses—we grow and slaughter all of our own food. Clinic, jail, house of worship, we even have movie nights every Friday.” He passes him a proud smile. “Stables with about ten horses. Those people that found you out there, those were our patrol volunteers. We have a patrol every morning, noon, and night. Try to keep this place as safe and quiet as we can. Everybody helps out.”

Joel nods along as Tommy speaks, making a mental list of the information about his new ‘home’. It sounds pretty solid, he likes the self sufficiency, the seclusion, despite it being the reason it was so goddamn hard to find him. 

“Movie nights, huh?” Joel inquires, that one bit of information sticking out in its oddity. 

“Yeah.” Tommy nods, flashing another smile. “The kids love it.”

The image of a group of children sitting and casually watching a movie, just… being kids, is a strange one, to say the least. He imagines watching them run through the streets, laughing, kicking a ball or throwing snowballs or something normal like that, and feels his brow twitch. Something like that is so far removed from what he’s known for the past, hell, couple decades, the brutal reality of the world. He’s not sure how he feels about it yet, so he grumbles a different question. “Who picks the damn movie?”

Tommy chuckles. “We vote.”

“Vote, huh? You runnin’ a democracy?”

“Well, uh… I’ve been told it’s more like… communism.” Tommy replies, eyes suddenly glued to the snow as they make their way back up the road towards the houses.

Joel raises his brow, amusement making his lips curl. “Tommy Miller, a communist.”

Tommy sighs, an embarrassed smirk pulling his lips. “I’ve made my peace with it.”

Joel chuckles. “Yeah? And how long did that take?”

Tommy shrugs, turning his head to him again with an almost cheeky smile. “A few solid meals and a shower.”

This makes Joel laugh, the feeling almost startling him, but it's extremely refreshing, the smile sticking to his lips for a few more moments. “Yeah, that’s fair.”

There’s a beat, the only sound being the crunch of snow under their shoes, before Tommy speaks again. “You’re gonna like it here. It’s nice. Peaceful. People are nice.” 

Joel hums. He’s never been a fan of optimism, and seeing it in his brother normally makes him both nervous and annoyed, but he’s tired of fighting. So he changes the subject, mind still stuck on the idea of watching a movie. “You remember when we used to watch those old, shitty Schwarzenegger movies every Saturday?”

Tommy breaks out into a laugh, and the sound raises another smile to Joel’s lips. “Yeah, yeah, I do… by the way, the second Terminator movie is still better than the first one.” 

Joel’s smile widens into a grin, the familiar debate a welcome interruption. “Hell no. The first Terminator is way better. T2 was good, but there’s no topping the original.”

“Nu-uh.” Tommy shakes his head, still smiling. “Special effects got way better, better storyline. Huge improvement.”

Joel scoffs, looking at his brother with feigned offense. “Special effects don’t make a movie good. It’s just flash and bullshit. Judgment Day was just a cash-grab sequel.”

Tommy snickers, shaking his head. “You’re never gonna admit I’m right, are you?”

“Nope. Just like I’m never gonna admit you got better aim than me—same story, you’re just wrong.”

Tommy huffs a chuckle through his nose, grinning. “Still a stubborn old bastard, huh?” 

Joel rolls his eyes, though he can’t wipe the smirk off of his face. “Still a pain in my ass.”

“Guess some things never change.”

“Guess so.”

There’s another lull in conversation as they walk down the street of houses before Tommy raises his hand to point, “That’s me, right up there. House across the street is empty, so, I figured we’d post you up right there. That way, if you ever need me, I’m just a hop, skip, and a jump away.” Joel is about to make fun of his brother for using such a goofy phrase, but as looks to where he’s pointing, his eyes flick to the house just next to his—it’s yours. 

Instantly, he shoots Tommy a glare. “Really?” He says in a hushed tone. 

Tommy shrugs, a tight lipped grimace on his face. “Hey, the next open house is a ways away. I wanted to keep you close.”

Joel just huffs, shaking his head as he glances at your house again. “Jesus, Tommy… what if she gets a wild hair up her ass and decides to come murder me?”

“I mean… she could do the same thing if you lived anywhere else. And, at least I’ll be able to come right over if I hear you screaming.” Joel shoots him another sharp glare, and Tommy has to hold back a chuckle. Rolling his eyes, Joel grumbles, “Great. Thanks.”

“Come on,” Tommy begs, grinning. “You’ll be fine. You’ll be good. Just go get some sleep, alright?” He places a comforting hand on Joel’s shoulder, and he nods. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll try.” 

“I’ll come grab you in the morning, alright? We do meals all together. Like, whole town, serve yourself type’a deal. We’ll go together.”

Joel nods. Whatever that is will be a tomorrow problem. “Alright.”

“Good.” Tommy nods, digging into his pocket for a key to hold out to him. “Then I’ll uh… let you settle in, and see you in the morning.”

“Yeah.” He nods back, letting him drop the key into his palm. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

As he hears Tommy’s footsteps recede, Joel stares down at the key, seeing it as a concrete signifier that he lives here now, in a house, in Jackson, this small, peaceful little bubble, where his brother is, and where you are. “Hey, wait,” he croaks out after his brother, tearing his eyes away from the key in his palm. 

“Yeah?” Tommy answers, turning around to face him again. 

He hesitates, shifting on his feet as he feels a pang of anxiety. After a short moment, he swallows his pride and pushes out, “Could I, uh… ask you for a favor?”

“‘Course.” Tommy responds almost instantly, stepping back over to him. 

Joel swallows, a hint of uncertainty about the question pulling him, but, though he looks down at his feet while he does, he can’t help but ask, “I was wondering if you could uh, just… talk to Y/n for me. I just think it might, uh…”

“Yeah.” Tommy nods, giving him a reassuring smile. “Yeah. ‘Course.”

Joel looks up at him, relieved by the painless answer. He swallows again, giving him a small nod back. “Just… try to convince her that I didn’t come all the way out here to make her life miserable. I’m…” he sighs, “I’m trying. To… be better.”

Tommy nods again. “Yeah. I know.”

Joel gives him another short nod, a pang of guilt and unease already starting to settle back into his heart, but all he really wants is to fucking sleep. “Alright, thanks, Tommy. I’ll uh, see you in the morning.”

“See you tomorrow.” He replies, giving him another light smile before turning back to walk back across the street. Joel watches him disappear into his house before turning to his own. Two stories, a dark, muted blue, with a roofed porch. He walks up to the front door, analyzing the state of the wood—sturdy—and seal around the door—secure—before he turns the key in the lock, and pushes the door open.  

It’s dark, silent, but there’s a blow of warm air from inside, and he cautiously lets himself in, slowly closing the door and locking it behind him. He looks around for a light switch, finding one just beside the door, and flicks it on. Looking around, he becomes acutely aware of how unfamiliar the space is to him, despite the homely furnishings. It looks like a real home—a couch, armchair, fireplace with a rug before it, artwork on the walls. 

Slowly, he makes his way through the house, exploring every room. Towels and basic toiletries in the bathroom. Bowls, plates, cups and mugs in the cupboards in the kitchen. An office, a leatherbound journal and pencils in the drawer. A smaller bedroom in the back of the upstairs, a master in the front. A note in the dresser drawer with the address of where they’ll, apparently, “give you” clothes. 

After shutting the drawer, his eyes finally land on the bed. Made, military style, with a clean, white, floral print bedspread. A couple layers of blankets. Mouth basically watering as he stares at it, Joel shrugs off his coat and hangs it on the door, untying his boots and setting them beside it, before he finally sinks down into the mattress. Fuck its comfortable. He has half a mind to stay right there, laying on top, but he decides to crawl under the covers, and laying under the heavy layers is where the exhaustion finally overtakes him. 

He drifts off quickly, sleep coming to him in almost record time. It’s deep, and delightfully dreamless, before it comes to an abrupt end. 

He wakes up with a start, jerking up in bed. Despite his groggy haze, his heart is racing, eyes blinking through the darkness, trying to discern the unfamiliar surroundings. When he remembers where he is, he lets out a sigh, but then everything comes flooding back, and he leans his forehead into his hand with a quiet swear. 

He takes a few more breaths, trying to gauge if he’ll be able to just fall back asleep, before letting out another gruff swear when he realizes the answer is likely no. The digital clock on the nightstand read 3:20am. Not even close to sunrise. 

With an annoyed sigh, he pushes the covers off of himself and swings his legs over the edge of the bed, sighing again. There’s still an unexplained feeling of unease in his gut, but he can’t tell if he should follow it or just wave it off as paranoia. However, he has literally nothing else to do, so, with a soft groan, he pushes himself off the bed and shuffles out into the hallway. 

The moon casts a soft, gray light through the window, floorboards groaning softly under his socked feet, knees cracking as he makes his way downstairs, examining a hung painting of flowers that reminds him too much of a Clicker’s face. With a sigh, he carefully removes it, folding under his arm as he walks the rest of the way down to the first floor and then carefully sets it against the wall. He pauses, hands on his hips as he stares up at the nail left, inclined to take it out now and see if there’s any chance of there being supplies to fix the hole hiding somewhere in the basement, then making a mental note to go on a shopping spree at the general store for the things that will always be in a Miller home, god damn it. Just as the groggy annoyance at this sudden problem starts to set in, his ears perk, head turning to a sound coming from outside. Tilting his head, he shuffles over to the window beside the stairs, squinting as he parts the curtains and looks around, searching for its origin. It’s faint, and soft, but he could recognize it anywhere. 

You’re singing. 

[foreverlostindreams]

Don’t ever dump me again

Friends. That's the reason Kol invited you here, because you were ‘friends’. He seemed to be lacking any more of those, or he would not drag you out every time he wanted to go for a drink, just to be distracted by any pretty neck walking past. And while you were glad that you had moved on from being on the menu, to being an, at least right now, treasured witchy help for the Mikaelson, you could definitely go without another evening spent alone in a bar, he chose for the two of you ‘to have fun’. You didn't have fun. Who would getting basically dumped every other night? It was not the best thing for your ego, so you ordered another drink.

It was just your luck, that sitting alone at a bar like this one seemed to attracted all kinds of other lonely or wishful guests of even that bar to try their best of getting closer to you. The stool next to you was still empty, but when the bartender brought you another drink, shortly after your ordered one, you knew that was going to end very quickly. The sound of dragging wood on wood seconds later proved you right and then you saw the guy appearing in the corner of your left eye.

He was not as dubious and off-putting as the other ones you usually attracted in establishments Kol dragged you to, but you also did not get a good vibe from him right away.

A good half an hour and a few drinks later you had warmed up to him though. No supernatural about him at all, right now a fat plus on your chart and just a lot of charming talk about college and annoying friends, just what you needed. You had started college before getting sucked into all the Mikaelson mess and even though you had not liked it there a single bit, compared to some of the things you did now, hell did you miss it. He seemed to have a slight intention of getting you tipsy, based on how fast he ordered you new drinks, when yours got empty, but you knew how to handle your liquor and based on the fact, that Kol in average would take another half an hour before he would get back to get you, you were just fine with how it was.

That was before the next drink hit you very differently. Your head was spinning instantly and you could feel your balance going off. Roofies, oh for fucks sake. You stumbled off your stool trying to get away from him, but your body was not cooperating very much. When he got up as well, playing the perfect help and no word of protest that you were trying to form would leave your lips, you started to feel a slight panic creeping up. There was no witchy power protecting you from this or reversing it, definitely not while you were in this state. God, you were so stupid. The first thing you learn in College, always watch your cup and don’t take drinks from strangers. Having spent so much time with vampires and angry werewolves, you had forgotten about all those mundane dangers. You could kick yourself.

Your thoughts were racing, when you felt the cold night wind on your face. He was getting you further and further away from the back alley or whatever kind of service room Kol, aka your only chance of help and his play thing were in, to everybody else you seemed like a drunk mess, that a friend was helping. “Km” you mumbled only to try directly again, with more force “Kom'' and again “Kol!”

Thank god you were not out with Elijah, you would have never gotten his name out, even though he probably would have not let it have come to this in the first place. But ones you had managed to get the name right once, you didn't stop, repeating it like a prayer. Hoping to get through the bar and street noise like this. Annoying him like he always would with you. When you heard a car door open next to you, full on panicking now, it mobiliced all the brain capacity you could manage “Kol, help!” you nearly screamed, as your legs finally failed in those heels under you and you fell against the car door, jamming the guys hand in the progress. You could hear him swear and then smell a very familiar smell in the next air breeze.

“I said have fun, Darling, not organize presents. But I’m not complaining.” He definitely did not know, when he could be funny and when not, you determined while trying to get safely to the ground to crawl away from the danger zone your ‘nice’ college dude had maneuvered himself into. You didn’t get to crawl through, you were picked up before that. The suit sleeves covering the arms in your vision did not seem like what Kol was dressed in the last time you saw him, but the voice you had heard was his. Trying to focus was getting more and more difficult you noticed and you felt your eyes getting heavier, before you felt something wet getting pressed to your lips. The first impulse was defence, but without much effect and when the copper taste hit your tongue you gave in. Vampire blood was probably your only chance now.

When the clouds started to lift off your mind and your own legs started to support your body again you let go and looked for the guy. You’d be damned if he would get away with this, but Kol had him good and scared to death, his hand still stuck in the car door. Now that couldn’t be good. On a second thought you turned around wide eyed before you realized it was Elijah who had helped you get the drugs out of your system. Where did he come from? They had promised you, they could not read minds. “I was trying to call you, to do a spell for Klaus, but you didn’t answer, so I was going to pick you up.” he offered you an answer, before you could even ask. An oppressed scream reached your ears distracting you again.

“Don’t kill him!” you scolded Kol, trying to get closer only to realise that vampire blood might have helped, but you were not yet your balanced and stable self. “Oh come on Darling! You can not still feel sorry for him. He was not going to take you on a picnic” he shot back dramatically “I know” I hissed at him and instantly regretted it, when his grin got wider again “Oh, so you want the honor?” “No” okay, maybe a bit and you got the chance earlier than expected because the idiot really did try to make his escape in just that moment. The force with which you smashed him into the ground before he did his second step and one of the other two men made a move was entirely because of the drugs, of course.

Pinning him like this you looked back at Kol “I want you to compel him to go to the next police department, demand to speak to a female officer and confess to her about every woman he ever did this to. And about the place where he gets the drugs, if he knows about any other guy doing it. Absolutely everything” “You are no fun” Kol complained “I am in this situation, because you fucking idiot always want to have fun, drag me along and then dump me at the bar. My liver is probably going to get me in an early grave, all because of you” You went off on him and could feel Elijah's disapproving look shooting over your head at his little brother. “Are you saying, you never had fun with me?” He really seemed insulted, what did he expect? “Like I say, you always disappear and the bars you choose are not known for it’s amazing clientele, but it’s the only escape I get from the third brother in your family, that would like to see me work on something for him every waking minute of the day, so i tag along.”

“Ready to go home?” Elijah asked then and offered you his arm, like the perfect gentleman he was “Kol, you got this?” he asked in a totally different kind of voice, while leading me to the passenger seat of his car. How had you not noticed he seemingly hit the brakes and parked directly behind you and the idiots car? “We are not done talking about this Darling!” “Oh, I so am. I will not discuss anything with any of you anymore today. I will not do any spells. I will just go to bed and sleep for a day or two. Maybe wake up in a life, where mine is not so out of control” A girl could dream.

Of course, you were back at breakfast the next morning already reading the grimoire Klaus had gotten in ways you didn’t want to know anything about. He had not complained to you about the time he had lost last night, but you were sure he spent the whole time you were asleep doing it to Elijah, who had put his food down about your need to sleep, also citing that trying a difficult spell with a halfway drugged witch was not their best chance. You were also sure Kol had heard his bit about letting it get to that.

Just when thinking of the devil, he slipped into the stool to your left, looking disapproving on your cornflakes. “That was how my last evening turned from bad to catastrophic” you commented on his move without looking up from the page. “You really did not enjoy a single evening?” Was his pride honestly hurt about that aspect? “Nop” “I thought you were! I thought, that was what you wanted, a way out of this house and not see a single vampire for ones, that's what you had said'' In that moment the penny dropped in your mind. You had said that! A little over a month ago, the day after Kol had arrived back here, when Klaus had had one of his days and Elijah was not on your side the way you had wanted him to, you had stormed off slamming doors and screaming your frustration out with those words. The day after, Kol had asked you to a bar for the first time.

You looked at him, checking for signs that he might prank you, but he looked genuine. You took a deep breath “Okay, let's start again. Hi, my name is Y/N. Your family drives me insane, sometimes I need a timeout from that, but I still do not like to be dumped in shitty bars, when asked out.” Kol took your offered hand “Well then, Miss Y/N. I will remember that. Would you like to accompany me to a better bar tomorrow evening, to redeem myself as good company?” “That sound not bad at all” He grinned back at you and then got up. “By the way darling, I would not eat that, it smells bad.” “Shut up Kol, better be worried, if you ever dump me again!” You could hear his laugh, even when he left the room.

[capitainelevi]

Thank you for this, hope you like it!!

After his mother passed away when he was young, Levi was taken in by his uncle, Kenny, who was the head of a criminal organization. Kenny knew Kuchel wouldn`t want her son to get caught up in his lifestyle of crime, but he still taught Levi how to fight, at least to protect himself from the danger that came with being associated with him.

When Kenny was ambushed in their home by a rival organization, Levi managed to disarm one of the men, and when he pulled the trigger to save his uncle, he felt like he traded his soul away. Thinking he was damned already, Levi asked Kenny to join him on the day after. His uncle didn`t deny his request, as apart from himself, his nephew was the strongest man he knew. Levi became Kenny`s right hand in a matter of months, taking on missions by himself.

Levi drowned himself in his work, not caring much about his personal life. The only indulgence he allowed himself was his daily routine of having a cup of tea and a croissant at the cafe run by pretty ginger. Levi tried to stay away from her, being content with just watching her making small talk with every customer who crossed her threshold. Petra sensed Levi was closed off from the start, but that didn`t stop her from giving him a bright smile and wishing him a good day every time he came by. Levi was usually cold when a stranger tried to make small talk with him, but he couldn`t find it in himself to be rude to Petra. Most of the time, he just nodded at her in response, but she was happy to get even this reaction out of him.

Petra lost her parents in a car accident when she was little, and she went to live with her grandparents, who ran the cafe before her. She used to help around after classes, but her favorite part was baking with her grandmother. Petra moved to a bigger town for college, and after she finished her law studies, she decided to move there definitively. She found a good job and moved into an apartment with her best friend, Nifa. After she lost her grandparents, Petra struggled with the choice regarding her inheritance. Nifa advised her to follow her heart, and she realized how much she missed being in her childhood town. She reconnected with her childhood friends, Oluo, Gunther, and Eld, who helped her run the cafe.

After a particularly sour mission, Levi felt the need to drown his sorrows in alcohol. He was already half a bottle of whiskey in when a pretty girl sat next to him at the bar. Petra was already tipsy and was drawn to Levi`s dark aura instantly. She figured she could try her luck and asked the handsome stranger if he would buy her a drink. The one drink turned into two, and then three, and after they finished the bottle, Levi asked her if she wanted to go back to his place. It took them an hour for a ten-minutes walk because they couldn`t keep their hands off each other. Levi stopped her and kissed her every chance he got, and he got so impatient, he took her up in his arms and carried her upstairs. They were both so drunk and so into each other that they didn`t recognize they had met before.

Petra woke up with a headache and ten missed calls from the guys, and she cursed herself for oversleeping and ran to work without bothering to wake up Levi. She left him a note with her name and her workplace to come for coffee if he wanted to. Levi was a bit disappointed to wake up to an empty bed, and he was shocked when he found the note and realized whom he slept with the previous night. He liked Petra, but she didn`t deserve the darkness he would inevitably bring into her life. He got dressed and decided to go end this as soon as possible.

Levi felt worse when Petra greeted him with a big smile on her face when he entered the cafe. After she got his order, Petra was about to say something about the previous night, but he cut her off and told her that she was nice, but he wasn`t looking to get into a relationship. Petra deflated instantly, but she told him she understood and didn`t bother him until he left. Levi stopped coming to the cafe after their encounter, and Petra found herself missing even the scowl he used to give her other customers. Levi`s mood got even worse to the point that even Kenny asked him if someone pissed in his tea.

Petra didn`t think much about her night with Levi until her missed period the next month forced her to. She stayed in front of the supermarket shelf for an hour before she got the courage to pick up a pregnancy test. Petra called Nifa for moral support after she took it, praying it wouldn`t be positive. Her whole world turned upside down when she found out she was pregnant with a stranger who decided he didn`t want to be part of her life. Nifa came to stay with her for a few days to offer her support while she decided if she wanted to have the baby. Petra didn`t consider Levi when she made up her mind, but she did try to find him after she decided to keep the baby. But since she only knew his first name, her search proved unfruitful.

Levi tried to keep his distance from Petra and try to forget her, but he still felt drawn to her. Seeing her was the highlight of his day, and one day, he gave in, and he only planned to watch her for a bit through the window of her cafe. Levi even gave a small smile when he got a glimpse of ginger hair, but when Petra turned around, he felt dizzy at the sight of her bump. Levi did the math, and when he realized there were high chances of him being the father, he strolled around the cafe for what felt like hours to him before he got the courage to go in.

Petra gasped when she saw Levi come through the door, especially a Levi so pale she was worried he was going to pass out in front of her. She hurried and took his hand in hers and sat him down at one of the tables, and asked someone to bring him a glass of water. After Levi calmed down, Petra confirmed that it was his baby and told him she was going to keep the baby no matter if he wanted to be involved or not. Levi cut her off and said he would be present in his child`s life without hesitance in his voice, and Petra had nothing against it. She told Levi she tried looking for him, and he apologized for making it hard on her. He decided to come clean from the start, and Levi told her everything about his background. Petra was shocked, but she told Levi she didn`t care about it and only cared about his safety. Levi asked her when he could see her again, and she told him he would find her at the cafe whenever he needed her.

The first place where Levi went after was his mother`s grave to announce that she would be a grandmother. Levi decided then and there that he wouldn`t put his child through the pain of losing his parent and made his way to Kenny`s house. Kenny choked on his saliva when Levi announced he would be a father, but the news that he wanted out of the business was not as surprising. Kenny told him he would try his best to protect them but advised him to be careful. He asked Levi to bring Petra for dinner, and Levi refused until Kenny worked on his fucking manners.

After Levi announced to Petra that he quit his criminal life, she asked him what he planned to do next. When he replied that he`s still thinking about it, Petra shyly let him know that there was an opening for a job at her cafe. Levi accepted it on the spot, eager to spend time with the mother of his child. When Petra entered the cafe and found Levi fighting with a stain on her floor, she just touched her tummy and whispered to her child that she hoped he wouldn`t inherit the cleaning freakiness from his father.

They spent their free time between customers getting to know one another, even if it mostly consisted of Levi asking Petra questions. Petra realized Levi wasn`t very talkative, but he was trying his best to be open to her, and she appreciated it. Levi decided she was a crazy woman the moment he realized she liked his toilet humor. Levi insisted to walk her home every evening, and Petra always invited him up for dinner. It became a habit for them to cook together, and most of the time, he ended up sleeping on her couch.

Levi never missed a doctor`s appointment. He was both ecstatic and terrified at the thought of being a father, and after he found out that they would be having a baby girl, he went home and spent all night reading about parenting. Levi even bought a doll so he could learn how to braid hair.

Petra`s friends were cold towards Levi at first, and after Petra convinced them that he didn`t know about the child at first, they warmed up to him. They started hanging out at her cafe after work, and Oluo especially took a liking to Levi. To Eld`s surprise, Levi asked him to hang out at the bar one evening. Levi told him he cared about Petra and that he wanted to ask her out on a date, and Eld just answered that he`s a blind bastard if he hadn`t noticed how much Petra likes him. He asked Petra out the next day, and she answered his question almost instantly.

For their first date, Levi took Petra to the diner she used to come to with her grandparents when she was little. Levi liked Petra so much he even agreed to share a milkshake with her, but still with different straws. Petra pouted when he asked her if she was ready for leaving, thinking the date would end so soon. But Levi drove outside of town, on a hill where they would get a good view of it. They laid on the hood of his car and stargazed together. When she laid her head on his shoulder, he cupped her face and kissed her. Levi told her he liked her, and she knew this was the equivalent of Levi`s "I love you". Levi asked if she would like to go on a second date with him, and she asked him if he would stop paying rent for an empty apartment and move in with her officially.

[herstarburststories]

He didn’t make it to 42

Pairing: Dean Winchester x reader

Summary: it’s Dean’s birthday, you go to visit him with some news and things that need to be said.

A/N: Happy bday, De.

Warnings: so much angst, mentions of sex, hopeful/happy ending (?)

Dean’s dead. It’s Dean’s birthday and he’s dead. You can’t argue much.

Sam denied the demon blood inside him, and that didn’t stop its evil nature from growing and gasping for his fresh air to the point he was almost shocked alive. Dean denied his dad’s destructive methods’ results for the longest time, and that didn’t stop the cicatrixes in every emotion he had ever shown. You denied the absence of Dean and that didn’t stop the bricks cracking in your soul. There’s only so far you can go with your eyes closed.

So here you are. Standing in front of an empty grave. You are bigger than the dull tombstone, yet you can’t help but not to feel tall, at all. How can you even start to talk? Talking to Dean used to be easy even when it got hard and now you’re feeling like a lost kid in a supermarket. Your snide thinking spells out his name with venom, saying it isn’t easy for you to open your barmy mouth and spill out contrarian shit because this isn’t Dean, just another meaningless symbolism that Sam promises that will help. The real Dean died almost a year ago, he was burned in a hunter’s funeral, the flames dancing over his body as the smell of burnt meat invaded your nostrils. Whenever you try to remember his fragrance, that manly aroma which you loved to scent each morning, all your brain can come up with is the odor of his skin and guts burning. The smell lingers like bad perfume, it doesn’t matter how many times you wash yourself with his soap-- that only broke your heart worse.

But today is Dean’s birthday. He deserves a visit, even if it’s not him. Then you go and attempt to deal with the desolation, push it away just a little, and pick up something from the enormous pile of things you wish to tell Dean. You glance at the cold tombstone: Dean Winchester. 1979 - 2020. Beloved son, big brother, and husband. Hunter. A hero. Simple definitions that can never make it up for who he was and what he meant. You purse your lips and cough a little, a gentle wind touches your cheek so tenderly. If you were still a believer, you’d think this is some sort of sign, Dean’s presence or some other pious hoax. All you do now is to remain in quietude, a deep breath. Ultimately, your voice comes:

‘’You didn’t make it to forty two, huh?’’ You scoff humorless, reminiscing to the multiple days that Dean said he wouldn’t go past 35. He did live each year like it was the last--- you aren’t sure if it's such a good thing. If you carry on like your days are outnumbered, you are silently entertaining yourself until death's knock on your door. ‘’I always hated when you were right. Let’s be honest, you had the words of a pessimist and the wants of an optimist. Still, if you were to be right about something, it would be about a bad situation. A nest with too many vampires, how crappy the motel’s bedroom would be, or how that third glass of wine would make me tipsy. So yeah, I always hated when you were right. And look at you now! You aren’t right, you aren’t wrong. You are dead! And I’m the crazy girl screaming at an empty tombstone.’’

You let out a laugh empty of joy. That’s how a hunter’s life is: you die and people stop talking about you because it’s too sad or too long gone to hold any pity, meanwhile the ones who recall about you go loud with all the spirits in their heads. You put your hand in the pockets of the heavy leather jacket that once belonged to a green eyed man who would be turning 42 today, some strange force causing you to speak again.

‘’Wow.’’ You shake your head to the blue way you paint the scene until you notice that you never greeted him. ‘’Hey.’’ The simple word adds a comical insult to injury. ‘’Guess the dead don’t care about manners, huh?’’ You arch your eyebrows with a grin that demonstrates anything but happiness. ‘’Miracle died. Sam digged a hole next to the bunker and buried him there. He isn’t the same since you died, you know? Not the deceased dog-- Well, he wasn’t the same either. Always whining and scratching your door like a fucking cat, and sniffing your old boots. He made me company in your bed and I whined as much as he did when you didn’t come back home that day. He stood by the door most days, waiting for you to appear. I can’t judge him, I did the same.’’ You shrug, not caring about how risible that confession may look. It's true. You became as irrational as a loyal dog at some point in this sorrow. ‘’And Sam, your baby brother… I think he died with you right there, Dean. He didn’t try to bring you back as he promised, but I shouted and screamed so much. I said I would burn the bunker and throw Baby over a cliff if he didn’t-- if he didn’t let me try. I lived up to the mad woman title.’’

You are crestfallen, pacing on top of where the eldest Winchester - Sam’s brand new nomination -  supposedly was buried. You know your boots barely touch an infected land, there's no deceased man under your steps. The dead thing is in you.

‘’I spent days dragging your body everywhere and nowhere, anywhere I could catch a crumb of relief in hope to bring you back. But I couldn’t. Jack could, but that ungrateful idiot doesn’t wanna follow his grandpa steps and get too attached to mere humans, the creation or whatever. As if we are just some skin and bone to him, as if you are just another human.’’

You sit down on the tombstone, some tender solace in being close to a thing that's supposed to represent him, like sleeping hugged to a pillow or waking up to a photograph of his. Your nails sink against the gelid concrete at the thought of screaming into the sky for the new God that seemed as deaf as the last one. His calm answer to your burning pain. How he dared to tell you he knew what he was doing— as if he was the original lord and not a three years old. You can't make him do it, so you hold on the fury of some overthrown nation.

‘’Anyway, I couldn’t bring you back. Your body, well, you know how human anatomy works. Your body started to smell like death. We tried to stop with human and magic ways, and it wouldn’t work because you were dead. You should’ve seen the doctor’s face when we got you in that fancy hospital tha night. I think we traumatized the doctor with so much violence and trauma. She didn’t even give us a false hope or anything, you know? She just asked about organ donation of what was left. She just wanted to take every little thing out of you, as if you were just another accident on a Tuesday night.’’ Your shake your head as the memories and your points start to mix, it's hard to discern things and keep a straight line when you have an open wound in your insides. ‘’Well, they couldn’t bring you back to life, and neither could Rowena or whatever I looked for. Don’t be mad because I tried, Winchester. You know I’m too stubborn for my own good. I had to try.’’ you refuse to apologize, yet adds the playful words in his eulogy. ‘’But then your body started to stink and God, how could I continue to be so violent to your corpse? That was when I decided to listen to you for the first time and to Sam, so I let you go. I hate you for asking that.’’ What an ambiguous, contradictory truth to bare. You are glimpses of a person for months because of Dean Winchester, still have the energy to argue his selfless logic, just to love him even more. He's got your devotion, but man you can hate him sometimes. ‘’I hate you for going on that stupid hunt. I hate you for being dead, you giant idiot that I love so much.’’ You can't bring your mouth to say loved. "I was always telling you to let the past go and now I’m in love with a dead thing. What a comic way to end our history. I told you that Miracle died, right? I don’t know if dogs go to heaven, but I hope he’s in there with you. I wonder what your heaven is like. I bet it has Whiskey.''

Your dry chuckle makes your notice the tears in your eyes, glistening your orbs as they go like a waterfall to be absorbed by the thirsty land after leaving your cheeks.

"Sam and I-- We tried to make some sense out of this cruelty, but we can’t. You are dead and I can’t seem to put it past me. I still sleep in your bed, and I can still taste your body burning on the roof of my mouth in the quiet nights. I cried this morning because someone asked for a burger, can you believe that? It was so stupid since I used to shake my head and argue with you about cholesterol. Suddenly I was crying at lunch in a restaurant because some stupid kid asked for a burger with extra bacon. They sang Happy birthday to this dumbass child, and I interrupted with my awful crying, and wished that you were celebrating your birthday and not that kid. I guess you could say I wish death upon an innocent child with a problematic eating routine.’’ That was a whole new level of low, as if you are the one wrapped with the sentiment of laying six feet under.

‘’Everyone tells you about how grief is singular and particular with similar emotions that bring people who went through this together. They even have that crap stages thing and all that. You know what they don’t tell you?’’ Your mouth shuts for a moment, like you are waiting some response. You nod as if whatever you were expecting is handed to you. ‘’Grief can be fucking ridiculous. Who cries because of a burger full of oil and cardiac diseases? Who cries because they found a grocery store recipe under her dead boyfriend’s bed? Who falls on the ground screaming in the middle of the mall because they saw a flannel? Who? Those things are so stupid.’’ You smile like there's no tomorrow and the laugh leaving your lips is a treacherous tone. Perhaps you just aren't build up to express joy anymore. ‘’You see it in the movies and in the books and you think, you know, you think to yourself that grieving is being sad on special dates and randomly remembering the loved ones because of some screaming memory, like a flannel or their perfume. Thing is, it’s not just that. All your body seems so small, so tight for all the ache and agony inside it. Your senses go wild, you are not just one person in one place. You’re just the pain everywhere, like being pulled apart and you beg to jump in the fucking grave with them. At least you would be together, at least you would feel like one person and not suffering edges of a broken earthy thing. And--And you start remembering things you didn’t even know you had mesmerized. I look at the ceiling and remember you saying you’d paint it someday. I look at the kitchen and remember me screaming at you for giving Miracle the rest of the food. I smell Sam’s clothes and started crying because hey, they don’t smell like alcohol. You don’t iron them while drinking anymore, so of course they don’t smell like cheap beer.’’ You are chuckling through the tears and it only makes it more monstrous. ‘’Everything is you now that you are gone. Every man has something similar to you, every garden is green as your eyes, and each step sounds like you are coming home. They didn’t prepare me, not for this.’’ You said breathless. A soft single follows. The knife cuts both ways; the empty breeze and the words hurt. Where's the middle term? Where's the limbo? Where's the only safe place for you to rest your weary head?

Out of nowhere, you blurt out, ‘’I can’t masturbate,’’ I know it’s something stupid and even selfish to say, but I think you’d like to know. I can’t masturbate. That’s a part of the whole losing someone process that people are too ashamed to discuss, or maybe they don’t have the urge to be touched anymore because after someone you love dies, after someone-- the hands who touched are dead and cold, you become a haunted object. That’s how I feel most days, like I’m a haunted house because you touched me and now you’re dead and some days I believe I am too.’’ You look around the places. It's beautiful. It's lonely. It has trees and flowers and green. Not as green as Dean's eyes, but it doesn't matter anymore. He doesn't even have eyes at this point. ‘’Well, I can’t masturbate. I can’t touch myself. And I can’t ask someone else either. I tried and ended up punching the guy, Dean. I swear. I panicked when he was between my legs and just punched his nose. You’d have liked it, you were always the jealous kind. I won’t admit that, but I thought it was kinda hot. Especially when you got possessive in sex.’’ A dirty grin appeared on your lips, the echoes of luxury lasting in your eyes for a brief moment. ‘’I don’t think I can be cared for anymore, honestly. Sam tried to hug me when Miracle died and I… It was like I wasn't there. I got frozen in time, and I live in my sleep. In my nightmares you are alive. I  dream about the day you died every week and I used to wake up screaming, but now those nightmares are the only proof you were alive now that you’re as dead as the police report says this time. It was the most painful, calamitous moment for you and I swear it was a nightmare for me, but then I realized that at least I had you there, egoistical or not, I made my nightmare into a dream.’’ You aren't sure which opinion Dean would have on that. Would he understand? Would he shake his head? You wish you can ask him just this one more thing, just beg him to write it down for you on how to be without him here.

You raise on your feet, glaring at the name craved in the concrete. The tears go by still, although they're as usual as the blood in glir veins at this point. ‘’Death is so silly. What it takes, anyway?" Each word conquers more inches of pure wrath. ''People die because they stumbled on their own feet and hit their head somewhere, or they drove their car too close and too fast to the cliff, or because they were giving birth, or because they dated the wrong person, or because they were hunting a fucking vampire and got impaled. What are the chances? How stupid, and idiotic is death? Always creeping and waiting to bite and chew a piece of you-- Taking every scrap of you from me like that’s its right.’’ You are screaming, starting to kick and punch the tombstone with any piece of straight you have. Your limbs hurt and the blood is visible, but you keep going. ‘’YOUR STUPID DOG DIED, DEAN! AND YOU DIED! AND I DIED! SAMMY DIED! YEAH, IS SAID SAMMY! GO AHEAD, TELL ME ONLY YOU CAN CALL HIM THAT.’’ Another punch, your knuckles are ripped. Another kick, your boot as a hole. ‘’DO SOMETHING ABOUT IT.’’ Kick. ‘’SAMMY, SAMMY, SAMMY!’’ A punch to each name. Anything to get a reaction, to get comfort. Anything. ‘’YOU CAN’T BECAUSE YOU ARE DEAD.’’ Gasping for something you don't need anymore, sweet oxygen, your eyes are on the tombstone again. And the definitions. And the trees. Your body is sore and aching. It is the kind and coercion no person wants which you needed; the freedom of feeling outside the exact pain that was inside. ‘’You can’t because you are dead. I’ve been playing some sick games in my mind, you know? Sam stopped hunting and had his closure. He was always better at letting go than you and I, but he’s still hurting. I never saw him hurting so much. I think he knows you won’t come back this time, how could you make us promise something like that?  Well, my twisted game is a bunch of misleading what ifs. What if you hadn’t gone after John? What if you hadn’t gone on that last hunt? What if you had stayed with Lisa? At first I didn’t like her much. Jealous, I admit that. But she grew on me. She gave you something I couldn’t back then and I’ll always be thankful for that. And even though it would rip me apart, I’d rather you to die at sixth after living your suburban dream with her. Have another kid besides Ben, maybe a girl this time, and just have that apple pie life. You and Sam would live close and your kids would always play. They’d be as close as brothers. Maybe I’d get a guy and bring my own kids and we could’ve a barbecue and everyone would be happy. But we don’t get soft epilogues here. It ends how it starts, right? Bloody and desperate. I thought maybe, maybe Lisa could understand what’s going through my head now. I drove to her new address and parked close to her house. I must have spent hours there, thinking if I should come in or not, If she somehow remembered after Castiel died or if I could make her brain work again if I told her the truth. But then I just drove back home and fell asleep wrapped in that stupid lumberjack flannel of yours. The one I always mocked, yeah? She may understand me, but I know you wouldn’t want that. You want her, you want me and Sam to be happy. I don’t know if I can do that, Dean. It’s like myt brittle soul shrewd and my body is just waiting to collapse.’’ You signed, overwhelmed by the battle without an anthem. The victory with no triumph. Is it still a win when you don't have someone to come home too? ‘’Your dog died, it’s the first birthday you didn’t live to see, and I bought all the things you told Mrs Butters you wanted for your birthday because it’s your birthday. I just don’t know how to celebrate it with you dead. People stop counting after they die, right? They just say he’d have been 42 or he died at 41. They give melancholy smiles when they wake up and check the day on their phones and a woe atmosphere swallows them for the rest of the day. Then they get better the next day. I think everyday is your birthday.’’ You attempt to wipe away your tears, which only causes your pulsating hand to stain your face red. ‘’Dean, for the first time, what died stayed dead! Congrats.’’ Once again, a hysterical laugh. ‘’I wish but no. What died didn’t stay dead, you are alive, so alive in my head. I swear you are there some days. I wake and watch the door, so sure you’ll come back. Sam says I’m living in delusion and I have to wake up and keep going since that's what you would want. That's enough to make him keep going, but it only makes me angry. Everyone we know and some strangers looks at me like I'm a house on fire and no longer a warm home, like I'm a car accident. They think I don't notice but I do.’’ You look at your boots, the whole is rolling out blood like your hands. You feel closer to Dean. How sick.

‘’Help, I’m still right where you left me." You plea, his love lingering like a bruise. ''I think gravity is overwhelming and it keeps me here. Sometimes it’s like I’m one of those dusted books Sam used to read. Or those Bukowski ones that you hid, so we wouldn’t see how smart you’re. You tried so hard to hide your intelligence because you didn’t think you were entitled to it. You saw yourself as the protector and never the valuable one for protection. You, the man who made an EMF out of an old radio, who rebuilt the Impala from the ground multiple times, and who knew patterns better than any detective. The man who showed me I could rely on someone other than myself. The dude with a lopsided grin, tough hands and a heart of gold. I miss you so much. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were singing all those classic rock songs and Taylor Swift pop hits, while I drove here. I would think you were home, smelling like guts because you wanted to eat before taking a shower after a hunt. I would think that you are in the Deancave, waiting for me to curl up on your lap to watch Scooby Doo or Doctor Sexy MD until we aren’t watching anymore. If I didn’t know better I would think no death could take you from me. There would be no tear us apart in our vows.’’ The only thing that keeps your organism working is that Dean died knowing how much you loved him. You never let this talk for later or never. No tomorrow is promised. That's a nice comfort, maybe that's what will help you to let go in the future. ‘’But yesterday your stupid, skink dog died and I lost the last living thing that I had from you. You know what’s more angerting? I cried and Sam cried and I noticed we were the living things you left behind and all we have is each other. All your closets of backlogged dreams were left for us-- so yeah. Sam is done hunting and he’s met a lovely girl, and they are moving in like in your domestic dreams. I’m taking care of the family business like your other contradictory dream and making sure Sam is safe enough to be normal. Because I have to, we have too. Stupidly enough, I still wait for the day you’ll burst out the door and tell us to hit the road again. I still watch every episode of your dumb tv shows to make sure I’ll know everything that happened when you ask. I still drive around in your car and close my eyes when the street is calm, only picturing you driving as Baby’s engineers go wild but those are my hands on the steering wheel. If I didn't know better, I’d think you are still around. But I know better. I still feel you all around. I love you.’’

Your monologuing ends as astutely as it stated. You get up, press a kiss to your ruined for the next weeks hands and place it on the rock with writings. You turn around and walk back to the car that you parked near, only in case of Dean wanting to see Baby. How knows? You and your clandestine faith. You lick your lip and get in the car.

You swear you the AC/DC cassette wasn't there before, but when you turn on the car and the radio it starts playing. It's the first true smile that comes to your mouth, it's bloodstained and you look like a shameless woman. With that you can deal.

It hurts a bearable hurt for now. You didn't think it was possible. Maybe someday.

The end.

(she takes a little longer to arive in heaven than sammy. his baby brother says that women are most likely to live around six years more than men. it doesn't ease him up, though. dean waited sam for too long, his platonic soulmate. and now he has to wait his romantic one too? the eldest Winchester considers it the best earthly present when the he sense you around, that smell of orange and apples. it's you, he knows before even turning around. he can't wait to love you again. your name rolls off your tongue so naturally, as if you had seen each other just yesterday: ‘’hey, y/n.’’)

But then again, nothing ever really ends, does it?

REBLOG AND COMMENT. Feedback is magic and helps me!

Starburst's footnote: It just didn't feel right to make an author's note on the top. I wanted it all only to be an arrow to the story. So, this is my side note: it's six am and I'm up writing this after inspiration kissed me with a bruise in the middle of the night. Or more like grabbed my throat. Anyway, I had to write and finish this one to post today, even pushing sleep aside. Hey, we are writers, that's what we do! I've been watching the show since I was eleven and I cried like a baby with the finale. This series was just so important and crucial to molde aspects of relationships for me. The song marjorie by Taylor Swift was used here, and so was the line "you got my devotion/ but man, I can hate you sometimes" by Harry Styles. I told you guys I would use it somewhere! A special thanks to @msmarvelouswinchester​ who helped me with her encouraging and opinon. You are the best! And with all of this I wanna say: Happy bday, Dean Winchester!

REBLOG AND COMMENT! Feedback is magic! Especially about this fic, I’d like to know your opinion. Tags in the reblog! Send an ask or dm to get in the taglist.

[newtonsheffield]

Molly!!! I woke up and was so happy Motherhood was already up; had a read and now I’m bawling 😭😭😭 Mary is such a treasure! I’m kinda glad you didn’t write about her when Thomas was gone bc I wouldn’t be able to handle it. But her relationship with him was so beautiful, I felt everything especially when she visits his grave. Can’t say I love it enough tbh.

Now I know Mary talked to Anthony in the hospital about his intentions with Kate, as well as when baby Mary was born, but is there any other time when she and Anthony have another heart to heart? I don’t have any specific things in mind, I just love them two together; they are wonderful to start with but they are such great Kate supporters I can’t have enough of them! Thank you for creating this universe I love love love it!

Hello!!!!

I’m so glad you enjoyed our little look into Mary’s head! I have to say, I didn’t put in a segment about Kate immediately after her father died because I felt like Dormant was so raw(???) in a way for them all that it took a lot from me to write it (if that’s not too pretentious to say). And I honestly couldn’t do that to them again, so I settled for having Thomas Sheffield only from a distance. So maybe you could feel the hole he left in their lives but not too much of the pain it caused. Maybe I was successful, I don’t know. 

Okay! My favourite part of this fic is the time Mary spends with Anthony! And I think, honestly, Mary might be even more Pro Anthony than Edwina is. Let’s take a little look at that hey?

Mary couldn’t help but follow Kate and Anthony with her, watching them closely across the room at Edwina’s birthday party. Anthony had his arms wrapped around Kate from behind, his chin resting on the top of her head, their fingers intertwined, swaying slightly in time to the music as they spoke to Anthony’s sister Daphne and her fiancé Simon. Anthony ducked his head, whispering in Kate’s ear and she threw her head back, laughing, her nose wrinkling in delight, Anthony’s eyes shining with delight, so brightly Mary could see it even all the way across the room and it made her breath catch in her chest.    

That was the thing about Kate and Anthony, every time they were together they were... magnetic. Perfectly in sync, their postures shifting together, one adjusting to the other automatically, effortlessly. Mary had watched, just last week as Anthony had tried to cut his omelette with one hand (his other clasped in Kate’s) and Kate, not even looking at him steadily continuing her conversation with Edwina had put her own fork down to steady it while he cut. And Kate was so happy all the time now, laughing and smiling, her hand intertwined with his. 

Mary had asked her daughter, over a month ago now  “Katie, you and Anthony... sweetheart this is it for you isn’t it?” and Kate had stilled, her lip caught between her teeth nervously, her eyes darting around as she nodded, almost embarrassedly. “I think so?” Her voice tilting upwards as though it were a question, and then slowly, “Would it... do you think it would be okay if it were?” seeking approval for something that made her so happy. The thought made Mary’s heart ache for her daughter.  “Kate, I think it would be amazing if it were.” And Kate’s answering smile had stolen something from Mary’s chest just like the first time she’d seen it all those years ago.

She watched now as Anthony kissed her daughter’s cheek untangling his arms from her, squeezing her hand once more before he made his way towards the bar smiling at Mary when he found himself next to her.  “Enjoying yourself Mary?” He said, smiling lightly, as he ordered his drinks. “Of course, the girls are having a good time.” She said, nodding at Edwina who seemed to have dragged Anthony’s brother Benedict very begrudgingly to the dance floor. “I’ll slip out soon and they’ll barely notice.” Anthony hummed. “To be fair, I don’t think Kate would notice if I disappeared at this point. She might be a little tipsy.” He said with the softest smile on his face, that Mary’s heart leapt. 

Mary laughed “We both know that’s not true.” Anthony smiled, his ears turning a little red. “Anthony I’ve been meaning to talk to you for a while.” Anthony froze, his eyes darting to Mary’s, wide, panicked. “No, don’t worry, I’m not about to scare you away from Kate.” Mary rushed to reassure him and he relaxed ever so slightly, though his eyes were guarded.  “I really just want to thank you, I suppose. The world hasn’t been very kind to Kate, she lost her mother so young, and then her father and she wasn’t always kind to herself either.” Mary said gently, meaning to continue, but Anthony interrupted  “She had you though.” his voice gentle, tears stung at Mary’s eyes but she forced herself to continue.  “Even so, she was so lonely, shut herself off. But watching her with you; She’s so different, so happy Anthony and I know you’re too thank.” Mary finished, smiling though tears stung at her eyes. Tears were shining in Anthony’s eyes now as well. 

“I love your daughter, Mary. I told you the first time we met that I thought she was incredible and that’s even more true tonight than it was then. I want to spend the rest of my life loving her if she’ll let me.” He said it so simply, earnestly and Mary felt a surge of affection for this man who loved her daughter so desperately. “I’m glad I wasn’t wrong about you Anthony. And I’m very proud to have you in my family.” Mary choked out, smiling at her daughter’s boyfriend, who grinned back, his ears still a little red, he opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted by Kate wrapping her arms tightly him, swaying lightly. “Anthony!” Kate slurred just a little, her eyes a little unfocused, not noticing Mary “There you are! I’ve been looking for you!” She yelled, her hands snaking under Anthony’s shirt as he cast an apologetic look in Mary’s direction valiantly trying to swat her hands away. Mary bit her lip to hold in a laugh. Kate groaned  

“Anthonyyyyyy! You are soooo pretty! It makes me feel very very warm.” Kate was saying.  “Kate, as much as I enjoy the direction the conversation is taking, your mum is right there.” Anthony said gently, sending Mary another apologetic look. Kate’s eyes widened slightly as they slid to her. “Mary! Hi!” Kate said loudly wrapping her arms tightly around her, “Mary, Isn’t Anthony so pretty? Mary, I love him. And he’s so pretty! Tell him to dance with me!” Mary couldn’t help but laugh, pushing her daughter’s hair back from her face.  “Yes, Katie, Anthony’s very pretty.” Kate grinned in response, Mary turned towards Anthony “Well go on, don’t keep her waiting, Anthony. Take her on the dance floor please.” She said smiling as Kate whooped dragging Anthony towards where sister was already dancing. Just as he left Anthony smiled at Mary one last time and said  “She loves you too Mary, don’t forget that.” 

This got so long, and I’m very sorry! 

[parvulous-writings]

Alex Law x Reader // SFW alphabet

Warnings: Very vague mentions of violence? If you squint?

Summary: SFW alphabet for Alex Law, from Shallow Grave. 

Notes: My asks box is currently open and empty! Please check out the pinned post for characters I write for! :) Enjoy! 

Not my gif

A - Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Alex never really shows affection in the conventional or typical sense. He’s not particularly one for PDA, such as hugs in front of others or kisses in public. He’ll lay with you on the couch though, and of course sleeps by your side- in your bed or in his. There are a few instances when he’ll be affectionate in front of others- like if either of you are really upset, or if you’re watching a movie with Juliet and David. 

B - Best Friend (What would they be like as a best friend? Where does the friendship start?)

Alex can be a little bit annoying sometimes.Well, not sometimes. Most of the time. He tries to be nice, in his own Alex-y way. He would take the mickey out of you and joke around a lot, but despite this he would always be there to be a shoulder to lean on or just someone that listens to you. 

C - Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

He would never admit it to anyone else, but Alex actually really likes cuddles. Just curling up with you late at night, on the couch or in bed, in the dark, where you can run your hands through his hair and get away from the world. That’s his favourite type of cuddle. D - Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking, cleaning, ect?)

Alex is actually a pretty good cook! He’s alright a cleaning and keeping things in order, but his cooking is definitely the top of his domestic skills. He never was one to seek someone to settle down with, more the type of person to flit from partner to partner, sticking around for a little while before disappearing again. But he thinks that maybe things could be a little different with you, though he hasn’t ever brought it up to you. E - Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

Unfortunately he would most likely be incredibly blunt about it all. Every last detail. Why he no longer wishes to stay with you, his next steps going forward. If he’s feeling sappy enough he may offer you an apology, but you might not want to count on it, I’m afraid.  F - Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? Do they wanna get married?) He is... Unsure towards commitment, to be brutally honest about it. He is quite fond of the idea of you sticking around though, so at least that something in your favour, right?

G - Gentle (How gentle are they both physically and emotionally?) In more domestic environments likes date nights in the flat,he can be physically gentler than normal- he can be a little bit of a rough-houser so to speak, in everyday situations. On the emotional level, he tries to be gentle when he needs to be- during soft moments, or moments of tense arguments (when he isn’t losing his temper) but apart from that... He’s just Alex. H - Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it, and what are they like?) Like with cuddles, he really likes them. They’re quick, easy and show a fair bit of affection. If anything, you receive far more hugs than cuddles. It’s just a lot easier for the pair of you, since you’re both usually stuck around David and Juliet, and they don’t want to see constant PDA between the pair of you.  His hugs are usually warm, and show you all the love he can’t put into words.  I - I Love You (How fast do they say the “love” word?) Not quickly. Not quickly at all. To Alex, the L word means commitment, and that isn’t something he is entirely willing to jump into. It may take him a number of months before he finally admits the sheer amount of sentiment he holds for you.  J - Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What are they like when jealous?) Alex can get incredibly jealous. And when he gets jealous, he gets moody, angry and pissed off. Surprisingly quickly, in fact. He also gets rather.. Paradoxical. In public, he’ll be possessive and over-protective, whilst behind closed doors he;ll be distant and rather snappy. 

K - Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?) He adores being kissed, and giving kisses. His kisses are usually sloppy yet warm, endearing yet messy. He’ll often kiss you on the cheek or the temple. He’ll occasionally accidentally kiss your ear if he’s in a rush, though. If his feeling more risky, he’ll kiss your wrist or your neck, as a little hint hint. His favourite places to be kissed are under his jaw or the crook of his neck. 

L - Little Ones (How are they around kids?) He hates kids. He hates them with a passion. In his own words, he’d “pay to have them put down”. That’s all that can be said about this, really. 

M - Morning (What are mornings like with them?

Mornings can be pretty hit and miss- it usually depends on if he wakes up in a good mood. He’ll get you some breakfast- usually consisting of toast or cereal, with the rare show of eggs and bacon- and you’ll lounge around with him watching tv.

N - Nights (How are nights spent with them?)

Nights are usually really calm with Alex. He’ll cook dinner, talk with you about your day, and curl up with you on the couch to watch whatever is on tv, be it a movie like Evil Dead, or his favourite show, which he’ll often natter along with.  O - Open (When do they open up about themselves?)

Not often. If he ever opens up to you, it’ll be in the early hours of the morning, when the pair of you are close to sleep, and he thinks that you’ll soon fall into slumber and forget what he told you. 

P - Patience (How easily angered are they?) Usually, he’s fairly patient. But if he experiences to many inconveniences in one day, he will lose his cool. From this aspect, I suppose that he has about average patience, in this regard. 

Q - Quizzes (How much do they remember about you?) Alex doesn’t always remember a lot. I would say it’s not his fault, however it is. If you’re not actively doing something together, most of the things  that you say to him go in one ear and out the other. He doesn’t always mean for this to happen, he just gets so distracted, usually with the tv and crisps.  R - Remember (Favorite memory with you?) Well there’s two, actually.  The first is your first official date, which you spent at a local pub one Friday evening. Since neither of you had work the next day, you both got a little tipsy. Though some memories of the evening were blurry, he remembers your laugh, and how wonderful it was to him.  The second is a more domestic one, from a rainy day in October. You were watching Evil Dead together in the lead up to Halloween, and you both sat there making little jokes and quoting the film. He thought it was really sweet.  S - Security (How protective are they?) He’s fairly protective. Bearing in mind you’re both around David as the man slowly starts to lose his mind, he does grow more protective of you over time, not wanting David to lay a hand on you at all. He can be pretty protective, and he confronted David when he drilled god knows how many holes into the ceilings of every room in the flat. T - Try (How much effort do they put in?) It varies. Some days he can be very much a lazy slob, hardly talking to you beyond one word answers. Other days he’ll be here there and everywhere trying to please you and make you happy, to prove himself worthy of your affection. So overall, about average effort.  U - Ugly (What are their bad habits?) Apparently drinking your cereal milk out of the bowl is a bad habit, so there’s that. Also he frequently forgets to clean his hair out of the bath drain- though that is like one of the only chores he actually has to do.  V - Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?) Eh, so-so. He’s concerned with his hair- I mean, look how glossy it is! But apart from that, he wears fairly fashionable clothes, and only averagely concerned with his appearance, like most men.  W - Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?) Yes. Not that he would outwardly admit it, but yes. He wanders around the flat like a lost puppy trying to look for you if you’re away for more than a few days. The other two find it highly annoying. He doesn’t pay them any mind, though.    X - Xtra (Random HC) I don’t want to say that this man is a grown toddler at times... But this man is a grown toddler at times. And a bit of a drama queen. Okay maybe a lot of a drama queen. Y - Yuck (Things they don’t like either in general or a partner?) Buzzkills. If he’s around someone who he sees to be a buzzkill, or ruins his fun at all, he sees it as a total mood killer and gets quite grumpy. And by quite I mean very. He gets very grumpy around people who ruin his fun. Z - Zzz (Sleep habits)

He is a rather deep sleeper. He sleeps about nine hours on average, and snores a little bit. He also talks in his sleep sometimes, usually when he’s having a night terror. He also lays spread eagle in the bed, sometimes kicking you, other times smothering you in a hug, it’s a roulette sleeping next to Mister Alex Law.

[hubbytaeil]

4, 23, 70 with doyoung

Doyoung + #4 I think I’m in love with you and I’m terrified, #23 Can I kiss you?, #70 I know I should’t but I miss you

genre: angst

word count: 2308

summary: Doyoung thinks him disappearing from your life is best shot you have at happiness, until he is faced with the harsh reality.

ʷᵉ'ʳᵉ ʲᵘˢᵗ ᵗʷᵒ ˢˡᵒʷ ᵈᵃⁿᶜᵉʳˢ ˡᵃˢᵗ ᵒⁿᵉˢ ᵒᵘᵗ

There wasn’t any reason for Doyoung not to accept an invitation to dinner from you. In the few seconds it took him to read your message he seemed to forget how you didn’t talk for months after the announcement of your engagement. He had congratulated you, of course, even if the sight of the astounding rock adorning your hand had broken him down. Perhaps that was when Doyoung realised that, somewhere along the way, to him you had become more than a good friend. 

The way your eyes gleamed while glancing at your future husband was the most beautiful yet heart-breaking scene Doyoung had ever witnessed. He truly was happy for you; he was glad to finally see you settling down. Yet, that night, there was bitterness in every sip of champagne, in every laughter exchanged, in every single look he would steal from you from across the table. He avoided the word ‘love’ at all costs when he would explain his situation to his friends, frightened that pronouncing it would make it real. It would’ve made the pain tangible; it would’ve pervaded every corner of his mind; it would’ve made him avoid every street where he could run into you. Doyoung cared for you, that never changed, but he also cared for his heart to remain intact. That night he had walked home alone, his phone in between his fingers, busy typing and deleting everything that would fill the empty message.

‘I think I’m in love with you and I’m terrified.’  

Doyoung read the unsent message over and over, but the tipsiness didn’t get the best of him. He took pride in having chosen your happiness instead of his. He quickly deleted the draft. As he made his way down the street, he looked up at the starless sky. He was smiling but there were tears in eyes.  

Doyoung could feel his every step get heavier and heavier. Why were you even meeting up in the first place? There were just unsolved questions clouding his mind. Moreover, he was troubling himself by what he was going to say. A part of him wanted to come clean, confess all of his burdens.  

I know I shoudn’t but I miss you. That was going to be his opening line. Another part of him would never want you to be part of his despair. You were going to get married and have a beautiful life, it didn’t matter if Doyoung was not going to be in it. He stopped his grave walk when he reached the entrance of the restaurant. You could be seen through the massive glass windows, dressed in your favourite colour which made Doyoung smile to himself. You seemed nervous and it made him uneasy, but the thought of avoiding this encounter didn’t cross him mind long enough for him to turn it into reality. He was glad to finally spend some time with you and get his well-deserved closure.

So Doyoung walked in, like a soldier ready for war. When you raised your gaze to him the outcome of the battle was already decided. Doyoung would’ve lost.

The dinner went surprisingly well compared to Doyoung’s expectations, since you two had a lot to catch up on. He couldn’t help but notice how there were still some topics you hadn’t touched in the least. Not even once you had ever pronounced the words ‘marriage’, ‘fiancé’, ‘reception’ or anything of the sort. Doyoung was contempt enough in listening to your every word and every anecdote regarding work. He couldn't bring himself to bring up the questions he was dying to ask, especially not after seeing that you weren’t wearing your ring. Maybe you just preferred not to wear such an expensive ring all the time, he thought remembering how meticulous you were. Doyoung was sure that there was a logical explanation so he convinced himself not to think about it too much.

“And so, she stormed out of the classroom after I told her she was going to fail my class.”

“I didn’t take you for the teacher who made her students cry.” Doyoung joked after taking a sip of water.

“Well, crying won’t get her anywhere with me. I’ll give her three days before she comes back begging me to help her.” You asserted setting your fist on the table, trying to empathize your point.  

“Is this how you treat your fiancé?” Doyoung laughed but this time you didn’t laugh with him. The comment had come out unexpectedly and he knew it was a mistake as soon as he looked at your eyes slowly losing their light. You stayed impassive for what felt like the longest seconds in Doyoung’s life. Silence, filled by the clicking of glasses and inaudible chatter that only amplified the gut feeling that something was wrong.  

You gazed at your plate and then at Doyoung, beaming at him.  

“That’s just how I treat everybody, you know me.”  

Doyoung exhaled at your answer that only left him with more doubts. But he also was glad that those past months hadn’t thrown your friendship in the scrapheap. You know me. He repeated those words in his head over and over. Yes, I know you.

“Jungwoo told me he saw you the other day.” Doyoung quickly tried to change the subject, clearly, he hadn’t succeeded in doing so. You let out an embittered chuckle.  

“Did he tell you why he saw me?”

Needless to say, Doyoung was starting to break a sweat as he felt like you were a riddle impossible to solve.  

“No, actually he didn’t. Did something happen?” He stressed the last sentence as much as he could, as if to say you can tell me anything, you know it. He kept his eyes on you for as long as he could, afraid of your every movement. Afraid that you might even dissolve into thin air if he looked away for too long.

“I called him to help me move out.”  

“But I thought you already lived with Jaehyun.” You smiled at yourself, not looking directly at the man sitting in front of you, setting your eyes on the hands of the bartender pouring bourbon inside an old man’s glass. Doyoung was a good a person, you always knew that, someone who always looked at the bright side of things. A person that, when tragedy stroked, was ready to sweep away the broken pieces.  

“Oh.” Doyoung finally saw the bigger picture and felt a little ashamed, even if all he did was just not running directly to worst case scenario.  

“Yeah, it was pretty rough. But don’t worry, we’re on good terms now. I got a nice new apartment all by myself, nice view and all.” You were smiling, yet the curve of your lips looked like scar. Doyoung’s heart was pounding restlessly in his chest at the thought of you going through that awful situation alone. He remembered that incredible woman he had saw months prior at her engagement party. He couldn’t see her anymore and it made him weak.

“Are you going to be okay?” Doyoung took your hand in his, noticing how cold it was. He observed how you studied that small gesture of sympathy. He wondered if someone had even asked you a question like that lately.  

“I will try.” That response was enough for Doyoung, you were still the person he had grown to love. He was determined to keep what was left of your fire alive.  

“I know you will.” Doyoung’s grip tightened softly. “I know you.”  

Doyoung agreed on getting some fresh air after dinner.

You had gone past the uncomfortable conversation about how Jaehyun had realised only after popping out the question that he wasn’t ready for marriage.  

“Well, he always looked kind of indecisive.”

“I guess we got the final proof.” It was wonderful for Doyoung to hear your laughter again, even when it came from a place of self-pity.  

“I know someone has probably said this to you already, but he doesn’t know what he’s missing.” Doyoung affirmed, as sternly as he could. He saw you curiously eyeing at him, then you delicately put your arm in his.

“Actually, you’re the first one to say that. Thank you.” you stated, hiding a hint of melancholy in your voice. Doyoung kept you at his side, walking with you along the river promenade. How lucky he felt to be with you like this, he questioned how someone could simply let go such a wonderful person.  

“Why did you never reach to me after... you know...” you suddenly asked leaving Doyoung dumbstruck.  

“I just... thought you’d be too busy.”

“For seven months?” he was taken back by your precise memory, then he remembered who he was talking to.  

“You didn’t reach out to me either.” Doyoung pointed out.

“I was going to... but then one day I saw you on the street.”

Doyoung got a lump in his throat.

“I called your name and you turned the other way.” your voiced trembled. Your steps stopped; you were now face to face. Doyoung couldn’t run away anymore.  

“Y/n...”

“Was it something I said? Something I’ve done? Please Doyoung, I’ve been torturing myself for months, thinking about what I could’ve done wrong.” Cold tears made their way across your cheeks. As Doyoung witnessed this he couldn’t help feel ashamed. He had been haunting your mind, while all he had done was pushing you away. He put a hand on his mouth overwhelmed by everything that was being uncovered.

“You did nothing wrong, y/n.” his voice wasn’t stable, another word and he knew it would’ve been the end.  

“Then why do you hate me?!” you sobbed, unable to contain yourself. You went on, uttering sentences, that would lose their direction in the middle, on how bad you had felt when Doyoung had stopped talking to you, how terribly alone and humiliated you had felt when Jaehyun had called off the engagement while you were visiting your family, how you wished you could’ve just called him during that awful period, until all one could hear were broken sobs. That’s when Doyoung broke.

“It was too painful knowing that you were someone else’s!” Doyoung shouted, fists tight as tears rolled down his face as well.  

“I couldn’t bear the thought of you walking down the aisle to a man that wasn’t me, I thought it would’ve been better to step aside. But I never hated you, I could never. God, I could never hate you. And now I realise how my decision has hurt the both of us.”  

Your sobs slowly ceased, Doyoung tried to make sense of your reaction. You stood there in front of him, wiping your cheeks, hesitant on what to say. Doyoung’s head lowered, feeling guilty for the pain he had caused you.  

“Why didn’t you tell me right away?” you finally spoke but he still couldn’t look at you in the eyes.  

“It was too late when I realised how I felt about you.” He sighed turning to the side, his dark eyes reflecting in the city lights.  

“How late?” you almost chuckled at the last word but you refrained yourself.  

“On the day you announced that you were getting married.” He noticed your body getting stiff at the confession.  

“Doyoung...”

“You looked so beautiful, so happy. I wish had taken a picture, Jesus. After I saw that ring on your finger, I just wanted to disappear. But I only caused you pain and-”

You wrapped your arms around him before he could finish his sentence and tear up again. You held him closely, burying your face in the crook of his neck.  

“You suffered too Doyoung. God, I feel so stupid.”  

“Don’t say that.”

“I should’ve known.”  

You stayed entangled, in between sobs and a few reassuring words. It felt like putting together the broken pieced again. Doyoung eventually leaned back and look at you as you attempted to fixed your now ruined make up. He chuckled softly telling you that there was no need and that you looked gorgeous either way. His tender smile was replaced by a shocked expression when you pressed your palm on his cheek. When he perceived you leaning forward his mind went blank. Before you could get any closer you stopped.

“Can I kiss you?” you whispered gently and he thought it was all a dream. If he had rubbed his eyes he would’ve woken up, you would’ve been no longer close enough for him to hear your heartbeat. Therefore, he could only bring his hand on your waist and wrap you even closer to him and hope that he would never wake up. You smiled tenderly after getting his permission. Slowly you united your lips in a sweet peck. It wasn’t a dream. His grip on you was firm as your lips passionately let go of all their fears, of all the unspoken secrets. Doyoung took his time with you, rejoicing in every kiss, making them last for as long as he could. It was home. It was the right place to be. You delivered one sweet kiss before leaning back to admire Doyoung’s peaceful expression.  

“What happens now?” Doyoung asked, caressing your lower back. What happens now? You hand travelled to his chest so that he could squeeze you in even tighter.

“I don’t know.” You aligned his face to his, your noses touching. “But that’s not necessarily a bad thing. We can decide. So how about we start over?”

Doyoung beamed at you looking like the happiest man who had ever walked the Earth. He freed himself from your embrace, leaving rather disoriented.

“Nice to meet you, I’m Doyoung.” he exclaimed, putting his hand forward. You wasted no time before shaking it.

“Nice to meet you too, I’m y/n.”

[mr007pennyworth]

Names & Chains - Jason & Alfred Headcannon

Jason is 24 when he gets the call from Dick. After everything they had been through, Alfred has finally died from old age.

The whole family fall apart at the funeral, Bruce takes the car back to manor alone as the rest of them split up into there new lives, even Damien leave aside Jon. Jason, finds himself stuck.

He finds he no longer wants anything he had before he came to stand at this grave side.

Packing his bags and leaving Dick a letter, he leaves for Europe. He's done with masks, he's done with violence, he's done with following that dammed family into wars and dealing with crazy villains, he just done.

He lands in England, confused where to start. He finds himself worried for Damian. Bruce is going kill that kid. The anger drives him to traveling around before he ends up in an army recruiting office in London.

He wants Alfred, he wants to find Alfred. But what part of him that is left, is in him. Before he can think twice, he's changing his name, his whole identity, the money Alfred left him he finds talks wonders beyond Gotham.

A suitcase, a backpack and duffel bag later he's walking aboard a ship alongside fifty other men and woman to places unknown, unknown himself, with only the words 'be the better man' in his heart.

Gun's are everywhere, his PTSD causes him issues but here...they matter. People don't dismiss his trauma here, they listen, they talk. They understand.

He hates the sound of screaming. He wonders how the hell Alfred ever handled all the blood.

Jason wonders as he gloves up to patch yet another wound, how he ever thought that he should have the right to make someone else bleed.

The gun on his hip moves very little, self defense at most. He finds his talents in caring, just like Alfred. He finds himself promoted, misses the first few like a blink and wonders one afternoon standing in the middle of a operation, a man's leg being amputated thinking about Alfred, how he'd gotten here, when he'd got here?

Sits drinking tea in an office, his black boots, uniform and white coat a familiar site. The peace and quiet around him, not so much. He worries about Damien, Bruce might have lost him already.

He's turning 30 and getting drunk surrounded by familiar faces and smiling like the life before that boat ride never happened. He turning 34 and finally lands back in London on leave to a new flat.

He's standing in front of a mirror one morning after his 35th Birthday to the sight of grey hairs. He panics and smashes it. He'd seen mirrors before now, just not acknowledged himself in them, he see’s his old self in his eyes and he wants him gone. Later the same day he gets the balls to go back in the bathroom to clean it up.

He's called back out to the middle east a few months later, 3 bullet wounds and a broken collar bone sends him back to London. It takes time for him to stop hearing voices. The white walls of the hospital send him spiraling into a depression he'd not felt since he'd left Gotham. He finds himself in the same veteran care center his Alfred had been in. He finds himself. Wondering.

He's calm when he walks into that hotel. Retired from guns. Retired from war. Tired from everything, he just wants peace.

His uniform is now black and white. Not mottled green or beige. No blood, no noise.

He's placing knifes on a table aside pristine white napkins not bloody gloves.

The quite sounds of careful chatter, clinking of glasses, giggling of tipsy women, the carpeted halls drowned out the sounds until it becomes a pleasant drone he never new he needed.

He finds himself opening the car door to a young boy with dark hair one evening. He hears the boy tut at his mother. He watches rich parents escorting private school boys into dinner, he's left wondering about Damien once again.

He's 38 when he gets on a plane again. He's terrified but it's something he knows he has to face.

Standing with in the GCPD office has his heart in his throat. Dick drops his coffee. Jason feels like passing out. He wants to run, he wants nothing and everything and he's scared. But he stands. Hands behind his back, ramrod straight, he stares down the police officer in front of him. Gun on his hip.

"You came home!"

No, He thinks as he enters that God awful manor the place was dusty even with five living here... No, he sighs as he polishes the kitchen down again. No, he clucks his tounge as he hangs up the jacket from the sofa. No, he snorts as he rolls his eyes at the sight of old man Wayne sitting on the sofa wide eyed and in shock at the sight of him. No, he wonders as Damien walks in the room double takes before nodding, he felt the same pain. No, no words needed when they all knew. No, he knows as he mends Dick's latest wound from the scuffles of the streets, tends to Bruce and checks his medication. Batman fully retired.

No, he thinks, as he drives the car back from Wayne Enterprises, Tim and Damien now all grown up talking shop in the back. Hero suits buried just like his own. Both moved back to the manor not long after he returned.

No, he thinks as he sets down dinner, locks up for the night, watches as the heir of Gotham wanders to his room phone still in his hand.

No, he hasn't come home. Jason Todd is dead. He left him at the graveside. That Jason would have never come back, never taken charge, never wanted responsibility for his once younger siblings. They may not have papers now, he may no longer be a Wayne. But Damian didn't hesitate to take him back when Grayson brought him to the doors. The young assassin more interested now with stock markets and politics even if he still conversed with his mother. He preferred the power trust gave him, rather than fear. Alfred’s death, changed everything.

Damien stops at the end of the hall as per usual every night since Jason returned, watches him curiously, doesn't frown for once. Jason is thankful he's grown out of that. His voice is like a gunshot in the dark and Jason feels the house shudder under the words. The chains he once feared that tied him down to this city, he now held in control. 

He feels something ignite in his chest and he smirks. The gun on his hip hasn't moved from it's holster. 'One day I won’t be here, one day your going to have to be the better man for the sake of this family'

"Good night, Pennyworth"

Jason Todd never came home, he died long ago. 

But Jason Alfred Pennyworth, did.

[piratefalls]

A McDanno rec list for a new friend. (These are also authors I enjoy, so consider this a blanket rec list.)

The Bareknuckle Poet by pleasebekidding

After a serious accident left Steve temporarily wheelchair-bound, working towards his recovery, he enrolled at Rutgers for a year. He met Danny Williams in his criminology course, wearing pride pins and chipped black nail polish, so sure of himself that Steve found it breathtaking. What happened next redefined Steve's sense of self, his ambitions, and many of his priorities.

Tax Benefits by renecdote

“Everyone already assumes we’re married so maybe we should just...” Danny gestures broadly with his beer. He’s maybe a little bit… Not drunk, but definitely tipsy.

“For the tax benefits.”

Danny gives him an aggravated look. “Yes, Steven, for the tax benefits.”

Danny (jokingly) suggests they should get married. Steve takes him seriously.

ua kaha aku la ka nalu o kuu aina (the surf has pressed upon my land) by icoulddothisallday, TetrodotoxinB

Steve knows, he learned, how a man behaves. He can play his part. Danny, who is a good man and great father, looks nothing like what Steve was taught. Reconciling the two means giving up everything he's clung too for the last two decades, and there's nothing about it that's easy.

*potentially triggery AF (deals with effects of conversion therapy) but beautifully rendered

the art of leaving and saying goodbye by Verasteine

2007 is the year Danny learns that choice can be the worst kind of heartbreak. AU.

*warning for infidelity (not mcdanno)

in jest by apathyinreverie

“No, babe,” Danny shakes his head with a grin. “If the apocalypse were to go down while I’m elsewhere for some godforsaken reason, then you stay put and I’m coming to wherever you are.” His grin widens. “And I expect you to have cleared any aliens or zombies or whatever else might be messing with us off the island and to have set up a nice, comfortable military dictatorship for us to rule over by the time I get back.”

It’s a joke.

Of course it’s a joke.

Until it isn’t.

(A the-day-after-tomorrow-style apocalypse AU, where the world decides to end right when Danny is visiting one of the other islands with Grace. Because, of course, it does.)

not just friendship (romance too) by earthquakedream

Steve's gone and gotten himself a boyfriend. Danny's not sure what worse: the fact that he's stupidly jealous or that he actually likes the guy.

All I Ever Wanted (It Comes with a Price) by leviarty

Steve gets shot. Again. Danny is not okay.

* warning: a young grace shoots someone to protect both herself and a gravely injured steve

After All Our Troubles, We Have This by Banshi13

"I'm ending this," McGarrett muttered after a few moments of silence. "I'm not coming back until Wo Fat is in the ground. I'll dig his own grave and bury him myself if I have to, but my father is dead, my mother is running all over the world in hiding, my sister and I were uprooted from our lives, and now he's got Danny locked somewhere in a basement in the middle of Japan." He looked both Chin and Kono in the eye, deadly resolve in his eyes. "This ends. Now. This is the absolute last time that man interferes with my life and my family."

The Other Guy by haldoor

Danny tells Steve what he thinks is a funny story from when he attended Grace's school play. Steve doesn't think it's so funny; in fact, it makes him jealous.

Strapped by stellarmeadow

Steve's determined Danny's going to be prepared next time.

Warm to the Touch by veronicaluv

Danny didn't think twice about going to North Korea to find Steve. He just didn't know everything would go to hell when they got back.

Me and my heart (We got issues) by SquaresAreNotCircles

“I’m in love with you, Steve,” Danny says. He does it softly, quietly, laying the words into the darkness of Steve’s backyard like they’re something breakable, something to be tiptoed around. “I thought you should know.”

Steve’s heart jumps. It rams against his ribcage so hard it’s going to leave bruises. So hard he startles awake, and he almost yells before he realizes he’s outside because he fell asleep in one of the garden chairs in his backyard again.

how to be gay for your best friend in ten easy steps by commatme

See, the thing is that Danny doesn’t really do gay sex, what with being straight and all, but when Steve says I love you he sounds so earnest he makes Danny want to consider it. Which is crazy, right? He’s pretty sure that’s crazy, or at least a little unhinged.

It’s Not So Easy Caving In by paradis

The one where Danny used to be a heroin addict.

blame it on the ocean view by carryokee

Danny gives in, freaks out, and comes to his senses.

So Have I Loved You by Brumeier

In which Grace has a surprise for Steve's birthday and there's not a dry eye in the house.

take it back to a couple years yesterday by itsrosencrantz

Danny really, really doesn't want to go to his twenty year high school reunion.

Steve decides they're going anyway, and Danny takes it about as well as you'd expect.

View From The Shipwreck by flowerfan

Danny Williams isn’t in a great place – he’s a reluctant transplant to Oahu and an outsider at HPD. Former Navy SEAL Steve McGarrett isn’t doing much better, having suffered a career ending injury. When Danny’s young daughter Grace wanders into Steve’s bar after getting lost on a school field trip, Danny is drawn to Steve, somewhat against his better judgement – he’s got enough on his plate. He’s not exactly sure what Steve sees in him. As they spend more time together, Danny learns how Steve’s injury has changed his life in many ways, but not the most important ones. As one thing leads to another, Danny realizes that things might be looking up after all.

True North by lavvyan

“Tell you what, my dad’s throwing his annual Christmas Ball on Saturday. It’s not a trip to Aspen or anything, but it is nice. Fancy food and everything. You guys should come!”

On the trail of a suspected war criminal, Steve and Danny have to go undercover at a fancy ball. The sacrifices they make for the job.

Oh, and Steve's pining like the taiga. Nothing new there.

outside the lines by withoutwords

“I’m Detective Williams.” Danny says, not trying too hard to keep it smug free. “This is my partner, Detective Mackenzie.”

Ken Doll keeps his arms up, his eyes flickering between them all as if he's only seeing police for the first time. “Good cover,” he tells Danny, and it sets Danny’s teeth on edge.

“This is the part where you say sorry for assaulting a police detective, for compromising an investigation, and for acting like a complete asshole while doing it,” Danny growls, about to change his mind and cuff the guy himself.

“Sorry, Officer.”

The bastard is still grinning.

Boys Like Me, We Try Too Hard by romanticallyinept

Steve's always wound so fucking tight.

And Danny's worried about him. Legitimately worried about him. Because maybe Steve always lays into the perps a little hard, and maybe he follows his own rules and his own morals and doesn't stop to sleep unless his body's actually shutting down around him, but usually, Steve's okay at the end of the day. Usually, Steve's not leaning against the wall of the alley they're in, eyes closed and shaking, with the perp he'd cuffed a minute earlier lying on the ground and crying about his broken nose.

Steve keeps a secret, and Danny does his best to patch him back up when it comes to light.

Transformative by boxparade

“You know, I’d heard you’d changed a lot after high school, but I’ve gotta admit, this is a little weird.”

* trans (FTM) Danny

All the Way by VictoriaAGrey

Danny has lost count of how many times he and Steve have used the sexual tension between them for undercover work, only for it to be bottled away after the op is over. With Saint Michael as his witness, that ends tonight.

Nocturne in C# Minor (featuring Stevie Ray Vaughn) by minor_demimonde

So, to recap, Danny has beautiful eyes, great shoulders, a pleasantly-shaped butt, a delectable mouth, expressive hands, and he smells good.

You know, Steve has gone to bed with women who didn’t have that much going for them.

seen it in the flight of birds by Siria

AU from the beginning of Season 2. The Five-0 task force has been reinstated, but the new governor's determined to shake things up. Facing changes and unexpected betrayals, the team has to work together to face new challenges.

It Ain’t Me Babe (Nah), It Ain’t Me You’re Looking For (Babe) by tourdefierce

A story in which Danny makes lists and can't find his heterosexuality underneath all his homogay, Steve has a lot of faces, Kono is perfect in every way and Chin continues to keep Hawaii safe from the Five-O's general disfunction—Or, a story about Kono being awesome and how she likes her men with hearts in their eyes for each other.

Ratios, Decimals, and Percentages by fuchs

In which Steve takes an internet quiz and slowly loses his mind. Danny's okay with it.

Let’s Dance Like We Used To by AndreaLyn

There isn't a world in which Danny wouldn't go after Grace. So when Rachel moves the family to California, Danny goes with. Steve gets left to process life without Danny.

Gunfire, Rainfall, and Beach Erosion by thegrrrl2002

Steve and Danny are kidnapped. After which there is too much swimming and too much rain and it's all very romantic. If you are Steve, that is.

Moving In (To Every Single Aspect of Danny’s Life, Including the Boring Bits like Dry-Cleaning by westgirl

It felt wrong for Steve to sound unsure of his place in Danny’s life. His place in Danny’s life was at Danny’s side, driving him slowly insane. Steve should feel secure about that.

Always Known What I Wanted To Be by mickeysixx

Grace Williams has always wanted to be a cop.

The Taper Phase by popfly

It’s like being run over by an armored car, like the impact of gunshot to tac vest. The pride Danny feels for his daughter and something else, something about Steve’s tank top sticking to his stomach, the way his shorts stretch across his thighs. The goofy grin that lights up Steve’s face when he sees Danny and Charlie, waving one hand while he nudges Grace with the other.

Pitching Woo by SBG

In which Danny pitches (and then accidentally catches) woo.

clue: four letters, ‘is a many splendored thing’ by armillarysphere

“Crosswords? What are you, sixty?”

“They stimulate brain activity, Danno. You ought to try it sometime.”

Steve doesn’t even look up from his newspaper, half-chewed pen resting at the corner of his mouth in an entirely too distracting way.

That’s Not Just Friendship, That’s Romance by thismuchmore

Danny and Steve start out accidentally dating each other, and it turns into something more.

it’s not what you’re sure of (it’s what you don’t know) by somehowunbroken

Art thief Steve McGarrett and his team come up against FBI Special Agent Danny Williams, and things spin wildly out of control from there.

Same Deep Water by JiM, kalena

This isn't the first lifetime Danny's been in Hawaii. When the stress ratchets up, the dreams get more and more real. Turns out Danny has some unfinished business . . . with Steve.

Warning: Ambien use may lower inhibitions in a wakeful state.

Curiosity Didn’t Kill This Cat by unadrift

"I'm confused," Rachel says. "Are you two dating or not?"

Danny sighs. "You remember that thing with the cat in the box? The one that's both dead and alive?"

"Schroedinger's cat?"  

"It's kind of like that."

"Okay," Rachel says. She clearly has no idea what he's talking about.

2727 Piikoi Street by imaginary_iby

The ways in which Danny makes himself at home by Steve's side, and the family he gains as the years go by. (Featuring Steve in Timberland boots and little else, and happy goofs who like to make out against the front door).

All The Earth Awaits Thee by Portrait_of_a_Fool

Steve knows all about war and willpower, but this is still the hardest battle he’s ever had to fight.

* warning: life threatening illness, no MCD

The Vertical Challenge by AlamoGirl80

Five times Danny thinks about his height, and then realizes that being "not-tall" doesn't really suck at all.

Some Things to Think About When You Decide to Be an Asshole by sutlers

Steve gets high and tries to fuck Danny; things devolve from there.

Inked by thehoyden

Of course Steve is enjoying himself. They're bait for a serial killer who has some sort of serious hangup about tattooing loved ones' names on their skin -- of course Steve thinks this is practically like a vacation, but better, because the chances of collateral damage are higher.

This Thing Of Ours (It Needs a Better Name) by leupagus

Cosa Nostra: (kō'sə nō'strə) etym: Italian n. The branch of the Mafia operating in the United States. Literally, "our thing" or "this thing of ours."

Ho’oponopono by ember_firedrake

Groundhog Day AU. Danny finds himself trapped in the same day over and over again.

Swim for Brighter Days by zarah5

Danny kisses Steve late on a Tuesday, early on a Wednesday. Steve punches him. (Set vaguely post-finale, so spoilers for that.)

All My Guards Away by sheafrotherdon

Tag to episode 1x18, with all the heartache that implies. Now with bonus fixes. With thanks to dogeared for all her suggestions and edits.

Let’s Take it from the Top by pterawaters

Steve goes along with the bachelor-party-in-Vegas, because he chose Danny to be his best man, and that's what Danny wants to do. Unfortunately, the things that happen in Vegas don't necessarily stay there.

How to Keep Your Mouth Shut by primetime

Danny’s sometimes gay. Gay, sometimes. Does dudes. He doesn’t know how to say it right. He doesn’t know how to say it at all.

Don’t Turn Me Home Again by gyzym

After a rough day of island living, Danny wakes up in New Jersey and learns the hard way to be careful what he wishes for.

End-Around by t_fic

Steve hesitates with his hand on the doorknob, looking back over his shoulder at Danny and nodding once before disappearing inside, and yeah, Danny is going to be so fucking lucky to get through this night without a coronary event.

Lonely People Do Stupid Things by waketosleep

Danny decides to show Steve the true meaning of Christmas, and does it by dragging him to New Jersey.

Down Beneath the Waves by samjohnsson

A picture may be worth a thousand words, but sometimes it takes another thousand to explain it.

Love’s a Battlefield (and the Navy Did Not Train Steve for This Shit) by cyerus

The Kalakaua-Kelly clan are determined to matchmake Steve. Out of desperation, Steve makes up a boyfriend named Danny.

It doesn't quite go according to plan.

put your mind at ease by eleanor_lavish

Somewhere in the last year, while Steve was busy killing bad guys, Don’t Ask Don’t Tell has been erased from the books and guys like Jeff can marry whoever they damn well please.

You’ve Got Hawaii (and all I’ve got is you) by queenklu

In which Danny has issues, presents, and Steve fleas, not necessarily in that order.

Jaws by JoeLawson

Danny has a secret.

[bluesnow261]

Are we ever going to see your Monix Actors AU? I’d love to read it, your ideas are fun!

Anon, you are too sweet! Here we go. It's very very rough, I wrote this all maybe 2 or 3 months ago one angsty night and never looked at it again until now LOL

In this AU, LN2 is released first, then LN, then its DLCs, then VLN. Though honestly it could work either way, what matters is Six meeting Mono and it changed acting for her. (I told you this was gonna be rough skjghks)

Six and Mono are casted as child actors and they made Little Nightmares the movie super popular. They are also best friends IRL. Six didn’t really want to continue acting, she didn’t care about it until Mono came along. Acting was fun, acting was playing with her friend. Mono’s family suffered from financial and legal trouble, while Six was forced under the spotlight, her family isolating her. On their last day on set, Six’s family was yelling at her to continue acting and she ran to Mono. She asked him if she should. He says yes, and doesn't tell her about his situation. Their hearts break.

Six abruptly moved away. Mono is left to survive on his own.

Timeskip.

Mono is a successful model and TV broadcaster. Six is a popular actress. RK & RCG codirect the drama sequel to Little Nightmares, reaching out to them to see if they were interested. Mono was hesitant but does sign into it. (They first catch glimpses of each other at a fancy party that RCG throws. She planned the party just to have them meet each other. They instantly feel a pull to each other but they didn't even interact until the last minute; Six was a little tipsy and poked fun at Mono's accent: ...still have it. I always thought it was cute. When we were kids, I'd ask him to repeat... Mono wonders what she could've meant. He knew what she meant. But did she mean it that way?)

The sequel centers around grown Chrome and Lilith, each with their respective domains. The drama follows them from enemies to lovers as Lilith pays for what she’s done to the other children. Chrome is the one to end her, and the overarching theme is that only in death can they be together. Shortly after he kills Lilith, Chrome was nowhere to be found, implying that he ended himself too. Without each other, there is no point.

Throughout filming, Six and Mono slowly got to reintroduce each other. Six was the opposite of Lilith; she’s happier than he remembers, and he remembers when he sent her away. Maybe she was glad to have left him. Mono was more reserved than Chrome; Six sees the success Mono has gotten as a broadcaster and thinks he really was better without her. Maybe that’s why he left her.

Six tried to be kind but Mono was distant. Their days on set were tense and awkward. Sometimes an argument breaks out or they simply don't communicate with each other and they almost quit filming. On an off day, Mono wanders to the park where they always went to as kids. It was raining, but he didn't care as he sits and lets it drench him and his thoughts. He contemplates leaving the project, but also the possibility of talking to her again. But he's scared to. Six shows up then, lost in her own thoughts, as her body habitually took her somewhere safe. They gaze at each other for a long time. He remembers the film script, suddenly. Chrome and Lilith's final showdown, before they tear Pale City and each other asunder with their powers.

“Do you think we’ll take this to our graves?” His voice was hesitant.

“...Why does it have to reach that point? Why do we have to rely on death to resolve anything?” So she was thinking about Chrome and Lilith, too. She grew frustrated.

“When I watched you leave... there isn’t a moment where I don’t think about it. I couldn't do anything then. You must hate me, for that.”

Six was quiet for a while before... “I still think about those days. Whenever I held your hand, nothing else mattered. The screaming stops, and I can finally breathe. Next to you."

They’re wordless. And close their distance, rain-soaked lips on lips.

After that, their dynamic got better. They started being more open to each other and hanging out after filming. Six opens up about her family and Mono does too. They feel bad that they couldn't be there for the other at such a distressful time, but they let bygones be bygones, and focus on the time they have with each other now. They reminisce on their childhood, and make up for all the years they've spent without each other... Although Mono doesn't take up acting again bc he's got his hands full with his own studio, the sequel was a success. They eventually announced their relationship to the public, with a lot of media pointing out how they're childhood sweethearts and parallels of the characters they portray. While Six works on future projects, Mono sometimes visits to support her. Six surprises Mono in his studio sometimes, and they spend his break together. Six loves to show off that she's with him when they're on vacations, like posting pics on her social media and referencing him being there with her.

So it goes and goes. That's all, thank you for reading!

[fascinatedscrawls]

It’s Not about Death, but Life

Getting into the event was child's play. This one was outside of her normal area these days, but they were all basically the same. High society events were excuses the upper class used to show off their wealth and to show anything off you also needed people to show off to.

A press pass got her through the doors without even a pat down despite the baggie hoodie she wore.

Sloppy.

Byleth carefully didn't roll her eyes at the bargain bin security team. Instead, she made a point of looking reluctantly impressed by all the glitz and glam on display around her. In a hoodie and a knee-length skirt not even her strappy black heels could help her blend in with the guests. Hunching her shoulders in an visible act of self-consciousness, Byleth adjusted the hood of her jacket to cover her messy bun before moving forward into the fray.

Notepad in hand, Byleth slowly worked through the crowd making notes on current fashions, who was speaking to who, and who was very pointedly not talking to who. She reached the other end of the excessively opulent entry hall having filled out a sheet and a half of barely legible scribbles before she found an empty bathroom to clean up in.

Once the door was locked behind her, Byleth pulled the elastic from her messy bun and shook her head to let her pale seafoam hair fall back down over her shoulders. She deftly tucked the notepad and press pass into her jacket pocket along with her hair tie before reaching for the hem of her jacket. It pulled off easily over her head, though it mussed her hair a bit more in the process. She made sure the sleeves weren't inside out and set it neatly on the marble countertop next to the sink.

Lightly biting the inside of her lower lip, Byleth hiked up one side of her black dress so she could reach loose knot she'd made under the fabric earlier that evening. There it was. She undid the knot one handed with the ease of long practice. Straightening, she tugged lightly at the sides of her dress and she did a little shimmy, allowing the bottom half of the ankle length skirt to fall from where she'd hidden it before arriving. The dress was a solid black and the slits on either side of the dress went nearly to her knee. A classic look that wouldn't draw too many eyes.

Dress sorted, Byleth reached for her hoodie and quickly adjusted her makeup to suit the new look. Once that was done, she replaced the tools and pulled out a pair of thin black gloves. Biting her lips and inspecting her reflection, she gave her top one last adjustment to make sure the strap was secure around her neck before draping the jacket over an arm and walking back out into the party like a whole different person.

Passing the jacket to the nearest server was easy, a worried comment about finding it in the bathrooms and it was being taken to the lost and found for easy retrieval later.

The mansion belonged to the gala's host this year - another obvious display of wealth to their constituents and the public alike. It worked both for and against Byleth by providing a veritable banquet of nooks and crannies to hide in. For now it meant a lot of meaningless small-talk as she drifted through the rooms, 'oh'ing and 'ah'ing at the abundance of expensive antiquities the host and their family had purchased over the years as she searched for her target.

None of the other guests Byleth ran into knew her, which was a blessing. The only people that would be able to identify her on sight that lived in this particular region were ones she'd rather avoid.

Thankfully, she wasn't here for the host or his family. As the ones in the brightest spotlight, it would have made her night difficult indeed.

Instead, she was here for one of their close friends, a man who had made more than a few enemies on his own climb to the top. At least one of those took exception to the social climber's preferred method of ruining others’ reputations - usually by setting them up to take the fall for his dirtier schemes - and reached out to Byleth's agency after two years fighting to clear their name both in and out of court.

She found him on the third floor in one of the guest rooms. It looked like the family lent a few of them out to their closest friends so that they wouldn't need to worry about travelling on the day of the party. He was straightening his tie in front of a floor length mirror when she spotted him.

It was always so nice when her targets isolated themselves.

"Oh! I'm terribly sorry." Byleth tipped into the room before catching herself on the door, standing unsteadily in her heels. "I'm afraid I've gotten quite turned around. You wouldn't happen to know where the closest bathroom is, would you?"

She blinked at the man as he looked her up and down, carefully showing no reaction when his eyes lingered in a few telling areas.

"Of course." His smile made her skin crawl and Byleth ruthlessly suppressed a shiver as he made his way over to her. "You can use mine. Right this way, sweetheart."

He guided her in, taking her gloved hand and pulling her away from the bedroom door before shutting it behind them. She giggled like the happy, slightly tipsy debutante she was pretending to be as he led her right into the bathroom, stumbling a little as they went. When he turned to close that door as well, she calmly slipped the garrote she just palmed from her thigh holster around his neck and pulled.

Byleth's face was blank as the man's struggles grew weaker. Strangulation wasn't her usual style, but she had to admit that it was less messy than a knife. Arterial spray was just so hard to anticipate.

Besides, her knife was a little too distinctive to use on jobs these days.

When she was sure that her target wouldn't be getting back up ever again, she maneuvered the body into the shower and turned it on to lukewarm. That done, Byleth left the bathroom, engaging the lock before shutting it behind her. Exiting the bedroom in the same manner, she made her way back down the hall to one of the rooms she already cleared in her search. Double checking that it was still empty, she quietly made use of the fireplace.

Her cotton gloves didn't burn that fast, but it didn't take more than ten minutes for them to be reduced to ash in the large wood-burning fireplace. As they burned, she wondered why a family with this much money wouldn't put in gas fireplaces for their guest rooms. Maybe they were worried that someone would forget to turn it off?

Once the gloves were nothing more than dust, Byleth began to make her way back down to the lower floor. Her contract was complete, there was no reason to stay any longer and she was happy to go. She'd hoped to never return to these flashy shindigs, but the rich were the most likely to contract a hitwoman and as they often targeted one of their own she supposed that was a pipe dream.

She made it all the way to the ground floor, moving slower as the crowds thickened, before she saw him.

The love of her life.

Claude von Riegan.

Her heart jumped for her throat and her stomach fell to her shoes.

He looked sharp in his three piece suit, his striking features standing out even in the sea of beautifully dressed people. It was hard to tell what drew the eye more, his handsome face, the confident baring, or his completely black clothing in a flock of glittering butterflies.

Byleth barely noticed any of that. She was too caught up in comparing him to the Claude of her memories.

His hair was longer and was looked better behaved because of it. A trimmed bit of scruff enhanced his jawline, reminding her of how she used to run her thumb along it when they kissed. Those last few inches put him a head taller than her and she wondered if she would just tuck in under his chin now.

Green eyes found hers and Byleth suddenly remembered that he wasn't the only shadow in this field of flowers.

For a moment, it was like the crowd around them didn't exist. His lips parted, jaw dropping ever so slightly as his eyes widened. Claude's skin paled under his warm tan.

It was like he was seeing a ghost.

Byleth snapped her own mouth shut at the reminder, teeth grinding a little as she swallowed.

Because he was.

Turning sharply, Byleth slipped through the crowds with a little more speed, ducking behind some of the taller guests as she did. Her roundabout plans of going to 'find' her jacket were scrapped. If he was here, there was no telling who else-

"Darling!"

Wrist caught, Byleth swung around to follow the unexpected tug. Her intentional stumble to hide the reach for her thigh holster was anticipated, her free hand caught in a familiar grasp.

Her breath caught in her lungs.

The black silk tie contrasted nicely with the fitted black vest.

"There you are!"

This close, it was clear that the shirt underneath them was actually a dark charcoal instead of black like she first assumed.

"I didn't know you'd be here, my dearest."

She swallowed and tried to force her heart to behave, to slow down, to move out of the way so she could breathe again.

"You should have told me."

Byleth forced herself to look up and meet those green eyes once again.

"Should I have?" Her tone didn't show any of her struggles thankfully, it was just as light as she needed it to be. In high society parties like this, every attendee was always listening intently for any drama they could find. "I thought you wanted me to stay home like mother."

Her very dead mother, at home in her grave.

"Never." Claude's voice was a little too vehement for the crowd. Noticing that, he released her wrist in favor curling an arm around her waist. Only when he was sure she wasn't going to brush him off did he let go of her other hand and begin guiding them out of the larger hall. "Who would even dream of telling you a thing like that?"

His face was calm, his voice now relaxed and almost joking. Claude was always a better actor than she was. However, the fingers at her waist were flexing hard enough that her dress was sure to wrinkle. Even if the others couldn't see it under her elbow, she sure could feel it.

It was just as steadying as she remembered.

She stealed herself against the nostalgia and the part of her brain that was screaming that she should run and never look back, that she should hug him and never let go, that coming to this party was a mistake, was a miracle.

Was fate.

"Oh, you know how grandmother is." Even as old as she was, the woman was still running the Garreg Mach Agency so far as Byleth was aware. "I thought for sure that she'd convinced everyone that she knew best."

"You know I never liked other people thinking for me, why would this be any different?" Claude sounded playfully put out. A glance at his face let her see the tightness around his eyes as he guided them into another hallway, ironically in the same direction as her 'lost' jacket. "If you'd told me I could have swept in and carried you away on my white horse."

His grand statement made another woman further down the hall chuckle and no one looked twice when Byleth chuckled and pulled an unresisting Claude into a side room by his lapels.

"You would have, would you?" She turned him so she could scan the room and then kick the door shut behind them before pressing him up against a wall. One arm slanted across his chest to hold him in place while the other pulled the gun from the shoulder holster Claude always hid under his suit jackets to point it at the underside of his chin. "Or would you have been the one she convinced to kill me instead?"

"Impossible." He replied instantly. "Nothing she could say would ever convince me of that."

Slowly, his unpinned hand came up. Byleth's eyes never wavered from his, but she didn't move to stop him as he brushed a stray lock of hair from her cheek, tucking it behind her ear. Warm fingers traced down her jawline and it was only as they lifted away that Byleth noticed that her blank expression had melted away in the process.

Taking a deep breath through her nose, she firmed her expression into a glare and clicked the safety off. She hoped that if he really did try to kill her here she could at least attempt to try and return the favor.

She cocked the gun and he didn't even flinch.

He was the best spy she knew. That didn't mean anything.

Claude's eyes were soft as he gazed steadily at her.

The memory of those green eyes looking at her with love and adoration merged with reality. Her heart lurched. She felt ill even imagining the possibility of him dying.

Damn it.

She pulled back and de-cocked the gun, letting that hand fall to her side.

"Say I believe you," Byleth said as though it wasn't obvious that she did. "What are you going to tell her about this?"

There was no way he was here for any other reason than information gathering. Claude despised this sort of gathering five years ago and she couldn't imagine that changing.

"Nothing." Smug in the face of her disbelief, Claude grinned. Relaxing under the arm still pinning him, he shrugged. "I left shortly after you did and headed back home, though I somehow did it on better terms."

Left Garreg Mach? To go home? Wait.

"Did everyone in the Alliance leave?" That was a lot of people. Byleth couldn't imagine Rhea letting that many competent people go, it would be too much of a threat.

"Not everyone and those of us who made it out needed to go further afield than you're probably thinking." Claude admitted. He tilted his head and Byleth could almost see him scratching the back of it. He may have suppressed the habit over the years, but the head tilt was exactly the same.

Light glimmered, the movement allowing one of his earrings to catch the light perfectly.

Byleth's eyes widened, the style of it reminding her of some rumors she heard when she was laying low in those first few years away from Garreg Mach.

"Almyra?"

Claude went tense under her arm for a moment before sighing.

"Never could get one past you, could I?" His rueful smile faded as she waited for an answer. "Yeah, Almyra. I've got family there, you know?"

No. She hadn't known. She suspected, but even as a rookie Claude played things close to the chest. Byleth couldn't fault him for it, they all did the same thing. They had to or they died.

Honest people didn't live long in their line of work.

Subterfuge wasn't a guarantee of safety either.

"Why then?" Why not before when he'd been complaining about the jobs they kept assigning him? When his input on larger jobs was ignored or when the younger members got pushed hard enough that he started picking up some of their work without telling them?

He looked confused at the question.

"Why would I stay if you weren't there?"

Byleth's heart wasn't content with being ignored any longer. It swooped and sped, raced and stopped, jumped and sunk. Her eyes felt wide on her face, but she was too busy trying to breathe to control her expression.

"As soon as I could manage it, I collected everyone who wanted to leave and I gave Rhea a choice." Claude was kind enough to ignore her dumbfounded reaction as he filled her in on what she missed while she was in hiding. "Let us leave or Almyra will bring it's forces to her doorstep. With all of the infighting she was already dealing with from Edelgard's end, it really wasn't a choice at all."

"You're here on their orders then?" At his slow nod, she continued, "Who else is here? Anyone that will tell her?"

Byleth survived the last assassination attempt by pure luck, she didn't think she could do it again.

"Shamir's here with me, but she left Garreg Mach with us. She never did believe what Rhea said about you."

"Shamir?" Finally stepping back, Byleth couldn't help but wonder if they often went to things like this together as she and Claude used to. If she was projecting her own wants onto what he said, imagining the feelings she hoped were returned when in reality he moved on without her.

Wait.

"What did Rhea say about me?"

"She said that your death was necessary, that you betrayed us and everything we stood for, yada yada yada." Making a dismissive gesture, Claude's face clearly showed what he thought of that and it was nothing good. "Trying to justify it all. I don't think even Seteth believed her. He didn't show up to meetings for weeks after."

"He found me." Byleth supplied, holding the gun out to its owner. "They threw me in the river thinking I would die, but I was found the next day and brought to a hospital. He found me there and found a place for me to recover."

Clipping the gun back into place, Claude whistled lowly.

"Seteth? I never would have suspected." He watched her as she turned towards the racks and boxes of lost items on the other side of the room. It was a good thing no one needed in the room earlier in their discussion. Weapons at a gala were always hard to explain away. "Why are you asking me about what happened then? Verifying your sources?"

The teasing tone had her throwing him an exasperated look over her shoulder before digging through the rows for her jacket once more.

"He set up a cash flow and then cut all ties to make sure Rhea couldn't trace him to me."

"So no illicit love affairs?"

Byleth stopped and set the jackets in her hands back on their racks.

Was that... jealousy?

Half-turning towards him Byleth gave him a look.

"None." If he was going to go there, she was allowed to ask as well. Right? "And you?"

"Love affairs? Me?" Claude gestured to his clothes. "Can't you see I'm in mourning?"

Mourning?

"For the whole five years?" He couldn't possibly still be mourning her. Please tell her he wasn't.

"For the rest of my life." He looked serious.

Shaking her head in disbelief, Byleth turned back to the clothing and tried to blink away the tears that sprung to her eyes at his sentimentality.

"You can't just say things like that. What if I actually died? You shouldn't be tied to a dead woman, you should be happ-" He was suddenly beside her at the coat rack. She cut off in surprise when Claude reached out and turned her towards him once more.

"Without you I will never be happy. Alive, sure. Content, if I'm lucky. Happy?" Leaning in, his green eyes searched hers for something. "Never without you."

Clothes dropped from Byleth's hands once again as she reached out, fingertips brushing along his cheekbone before following the line of his jaw like she did so many times before. She felt him shiver under her touch. Eyes trailing to his lips, she then looked up at those green eyes and thought she knew what he was looking for just a moment ago.

Moving her hand to his shoulder for balance, she leaned in.

Claude met her halfway.

They kissed.

They kissed and it was everything she remembered and more.

It felt like they'd never stopped.

Like that five year gap was nothing.

Like it was a lifetime.

Her free hand wound itself into his hair, pulling him down and finding it just as soft as before even as it tangled around her fingers.

His hand slipped down her shoulder to her back, following her spine until it found the old scar hidden just below the open back of her dress that had never felt his touch until now.

It felt like she was finally home.

"Ah! Um, I, er, need to get to the rack- I mean, the coat stand?"

Byleth pulled back, turning her head away from the door. Her fingers slipped from Claude's hair as he chuckled sheepishly at the man bringing in some more lost items.

"Looks like we got a little distracted while trying to find her jacket." Claude caught her eye and, with her back turned to the man in the doorway, she covertly mimed straightening a hood before ending in a symbol they used to use. "Do you think a hoodie would have been hung up or folded?"

"All jackets are hung, sir. I believe the softer jackets are to the left." The voice was unfamiliar, definitely not the one she'd handed the jacket to in the first place then. Good.

With that direction and the additional light from the hall, Byleth quickly located the jacket. Claude wrapped up the small-talk with his usual finesse and they were on their way.

The jacket was deftly folded in on itself with the strings tied together and worn with confidence as a particularly shapeless shoulder bag. While she was dealing with that, Claude messaged someone on his phone one handed. The other was still holding her close as they headed for the entrance.

"Shamir's going to meet us out front with the car, if that works for you?"

"It will for now." Byleth agreed with a small smile.

"For now?" Raising a brow at her growing smile, Claude turned and looked at her with playful suspicion as they pushed through the crowd.

With both of them controlling their reactions so as to not cause a scene, it was probably better to tell him now rather than later.

"There's someone I'd like you to meet and it will require us going to them in the morning." She blinked up at him with a perfectly straight face before turning back to the crowds in front of them. Byleth watched him closely in her peripheral vision as she continued casually, "You could say I'm a lot more like my father than anyone expected."

They did attract a little attention on their way out when Claude bit his tongue so hard trying to stifle his response that it bled.

[strahd-von-asthmavich]

The Dread Lands of Ravenloft - Mod Van Richten’s New England In-Table Campaign [Session 6]

Session Highlights

Did you know that this is technically the party’s third official combat? We’re a pretty role-play heavy group.

They’ve angered six very hungry vampire spawn last time! During the lead-up to this session, my players were so scared of TPK. But, spoiler alert, I’m not that cruel. I planned this out to a T!

Side Note: Any art that I share of NPCs within these highlight posts is my (Mod Van Richten’s) original and fan art. Any art that I use for my players that wasn’t created by myself but by other artists is kept private and within our friend circle.

Abrascus Barbarian (4) Path of the Ancestral Guardian Race: Tortle Background: Haunted One

Direthorn Rogue (4) Swashbuckler Race: Drow Background: Urchin

Flopsy Barbarian (4) Path of Wild Magic Race: Rabbit Man Background: Experiment

Mangus Monk (4) Way of the Open Hand Race: Half Elf Background: Urchin

Neracahne Wizard (4) School of Evocation Race: Eladrin Background: Noble

Nyra Rogue (4) Phantom Race: Fairy Background: Noble

CW: decapitation, sensual themes, gender dysphoria

Let’s see how the battle went under the cut!

I made a grave error when writing session 5's recap. I missed a lot of details! Good thing my players don't read these bc they would laugh at me for missing this!

Nyra made two discoveries during the day. While inside the Blue Water Inn, she notices something while Ismark is flirting with Rudy. There's a spirit hovering near the half elf. He looks like a young human boy, and he seems slightly surprised when Nyra suddenly tries to talk to him aloud. After the spirit fades, she hears a voice telepathically:

"I wonder if she can't hear me either."

At the dinner, Nyra can't help but notice the same phenomena again. Instead, she sees multiple tortured spirits around the dinner table and throughout the mansion. It appears that they're all in agony.

The session begins back on Direthorn, who was away from the other adventurers most of the day. They’ve been trying to scavenge for where they can find more pie, without realizing that Flopsy still had pie left despite not being addicted anymore. They’ve gone through garbage cans and different alleyways in vain, scaring townspeople all the while with feral noises.

They’d been so caught up in trying to find pie that they’d completely forgotten about the Baron’s dinner. The only thing that snaps them out of it is Vasili, who catches them scavenging through garbage in the noble district. He snaps them out of it by asking where their friends are. They have no idea, for they weren’t with all of them when they went to the coffin shop earlier that day. Shortly after the conversation starts, however, Adelaide rushes out of the manor and comes up to Vasili to exclaim her worries. She was worried about Escher, but she was also able to tell Vasili and Direthorn where they were. With that, they head straight to the shop.

By the time that the official combat begins, Direthorn, Vasili, and Adelaide are at the entrance. Here are some very notable highlights:

(A/N: Nyra’s player wasn’t able to play for the encounter, but she allowed me to use Nyra’s stats to run her on autopilot during the fight. Unfortunately, I had shit dice rolls)

We had two critical hits: One from Mangus and the other from Abrascus.

Vasili was able to very quickly join the fight, and he had a very powerful rapier. Its blade was pure black, and a lot of its damage was necrotic.

This is the first time that Adelaide shows off her spellcasting to her new friends, but unfortunately it’s not as effective as she’d want it to be.

Izek and four guards arrive at the scene a couple rounds into the fight to help.

Mangus got the first kill of the fight.

Flopsy dealt the most damage in the fight.

Direthorn spent most of the fight antagonizing one vampire spawn in the back corner of the shop. They have spiderclimbing ability and were able to climb up to the window right above the door. Afterwards, they proceeded to mess with this one spawn until it got bored of them (aka: Izek hit them with his hurl flame ability)

We had four critical failures:

Vasili accidentally stabbed Flopsy with his ridiculously powerful rapier.

Mangus lost his quarterstaff by throwing it across the room.

Nyra accidentally pierced Neracahne with one of her arrows.

Abrascus accidentally strikes Adelaide with his greataxe, which leads to major consequences.

After Abrascus hits Adelaide with his greataxe, she looks so angry as she tries to cast a spell on him with little success. However, Escher also saw what happened, and he then cast the same spell on Abrascus, which did success. Abrascus ended up going unconscious because of seeing horrific images.

After the fight was over, Henrik was under arrest. Henrik was terrified and constantly tried to say that he was innocent and was framed. Izek did let the party briefly talk to him, but that ended up being inconclusive. Henrik said he couldn’t say the name of the person that made him do it. Aloud, Flopsy simply said, “It was daddy,” which made everyone very uncomfortable. Again. Henrik was crying out that he was innocent as he was being dragged out of the shop. Vasili left shortly after.

Because the investigation was a success, the adventurers are all considered “guests of honor” during the Festival of the Blazing Sun. What this means for them is that food expenses are all paid for during the festival, and they’re allowed to spend the festival with the baron at his table whenever they wish to.

Ismark arrived with Rudy during the aftermath. One of the vampire spawn was burnt to a crisp by Izek, and Rudy proceeded to decapitate the body. After this, Rudy looked at everyone in confusion, claiming that they needed to decapitate the corpses and then burn the bodies in order for them to die. Flopsy looked confused and told him about how he killed Doru. Even though Doru’s head was bashed in, Rudy tells Flopsy that because he wasn’t decapitated, then he’s technically still active and can eventually regenerate from that.

Rudy is dumbfounded by the party’s lack of knowledge, until he realizes that they’re not really from here. He explains to them that because Barovia is run by a vampire, then vampires that live here are stronger than vampires that would typically be found in the Material Plane. So, it takes more effort to kill them. However, after seeing that Flopsy has Van Richten’s Guide to Vampires, he seems really disappointed that he doesn’t know more about vampires. That is, until he’s given the book and sees that many pages on how to kill vampires are missing. Flopsy tells him that he’d gotten the book like this from Vasili.

When Abrascus wakes up, he’s suffering from an effect of longterm madness, experiencing tremors and feeling shaken up. Rudy quickly takes care of it before it gets too out of hand, and he and Ismark work together to heal the adventurers. When Rudy does this, he holds onto his pan flute while Ismark plays his balalaika to cast his healing spells.

More Content Warnings: Misgendering, trans pregnancy mentioned

Before resting…

Abrascus ended up staying behind at the coffin shop to sleep in one of the coffins. Rudy took exception to this, and he told Flopsy to place a holy symbol on top of the coffin. Just in case. Ismark stays the night with Rudy when they all part ways.

When the rest of the adventurers return to the manor, Flopsy goes inside and can hear Adelaide crying while Escher is tending to the wound caused by Abrascus’ greataxe. She’s devastated that someone she thought was her friend would hurt her like that. Escher tries to assure that things like that happen sometimes, but he will do anything to defend her. Adelaide then asks him, “Is Father going to do something to him?” His answer to her is to not worry about that, for that’s his business.

Flopsy soon makes his presence known, or rather, Escher begins to notice him. He stops talking with Adelaide, and she decides to go see what the girls are up to at the guest house. This leaves Flopsy to continue the conversation he had with Escher earlier that day.

Flopsy insists that Escher needs to tell him who his host was so that he could become a vampire too. Escher refuses to give the name, for it’s too dangerous, but Flopsy can conclude that Strahd is Escher’s host. To challenge that, Flopsy asks, “What if I ask her other dad?” That makes Escher go from deflective to immediate defensive, now that he knows how much Flopsy heard. It’s then that he tells Flopsy that Adelaide having two fathers was supposed to be kept a secret. Escher is transgender, and he left his old life to escape a forced marriage. How that led to him being in Barovia and being one of Strahd’s consorts is unknown.

Escher makes a promise to Flopsy. If he were to tell anyone that Escher was a vampire and that Adelaide is a dhampir, he would know that it was Flopsy that did it. Essentially, he was going to kill him if he told.

Direthorn, Nyra, and Neracahne all go back to the guest house when everything was cleaned up. Some time later is when Adelaide comes over to see them for comfort. They all decide to have a girls’ night where they drink wine and get to know each other. Adelaide quickly starts getting tipsy, and Neracahne and Direthorn immediately pounce on that as a way to get information out of her. They ask her about her papa, and she tells them that he had raised her mostly on his own and that she’s her favorite person. They then ask about her mom. She seems confused, and after some explaining, she tells them, “I don’t have a mom.” They ask if she’s adopted, but that also needs to be explained to her. She says no, and then she explains how Escher came out to her when she was a child.

Even though Escher had said that her body is similar to hers, that doesn’t change the fact that he is a man. Even if he gave birth to her, that doesn’t change the fact that it’s her father. She’s very adamant about that, but she’s relieved that Neracahne and Direthorn respect that. The conversation gets a little more personal when they start asking about who her other dad is. They’d noticed that when she laughed, Adelaide had fangs. She gets scared when trying to explain herself, and it eventually comes out that her other father is Strahd.

When Escher came to Barovia, he was with his party of adventurers in Vallaki. The way that Adelaide described their union was that it was… not exactly a conventional one. But in the end, they’d “married,” but before Escher could be turned, they found out that he was pregnant with Adelaide. They had to wait until after she was born, or else risk her dying in the process. Escher had almost died when she was born, but Adelaide perceives that her papa turning into a vampire saved him. She also tells them that although Strahd hasn’t really been in her life during her childhood, she knows that he cares about her.

She begs them not to tell and makes them promise. Even though they promised her that they wouldn’t do anything to hurt her, Adelaide knows that people will kill her if they find out. They will also kill Escher, and even though it seems like she knows a lot of people hate Strahd, she doesn’t want him to get killed, either. She soon relaxes once she’s reassured, and they’re all able to open up about their personal lives and experiences.

Direthorn talks about being orphaned and running away from the orphanage at thirteen. They’d been alone for the longest time, after they’d lost their best friend. That makes Adelaide feel a little sad as she expresses her sympathy. Neracahne then talks about how she ran away from an arranged marriage. As she’s explaining her story, Adelaide perks up. She exclaims, “That sounds a lot like my papa!”

She then tells Escher’s story to them, or at least, what she knows of it. Escher was a student at a wizarding school before he came out, and he excelled in his studies. Something happened, however, that made him earn his teachers’ ire. He had crafted his very own spell, which was the spell demonstrated at the coffin shop against Abrascus. In response, the teachers lambasted him and told him to stick to his studies. Escher was angered by this and felt like he was being held back.

That story felt so familiar to Neracahne. She’s heard something similar to this in the past.

Adelaide continues the story. After Escher dropped out of school and took up apprenticeship with a necromancer, he started his transition. It was shortly after this that Escher was forced into a marriage. She didn’t quite remember the name of his husband. “...Reginald?” It was their wedding night that Escher used his spell against someone for the very first time. After his husband was knocked unconscious, Escher escaped and became an adventurer.

Now this was too familiar to Neracahne. It’s then that she remembers a story that she overheard when walking through town one day. That person’s name wasn’t Reginald. It was Roland, who was a middle-aged elf that was a well-respected noble. He’d just stepped out of a chapel holding his head. Different people asked what happened to him, and he started talking about his wedding that was roughly a week earlier. He took a young wife and thought that the union was a success. But then, “that crazy bitch stabbed me in the shoulder,” and she then had cast a spell on him that made him go crazy. She then disappeared without a trace.

It’s then that recognition spread across Neracahne’s face. She realizes in that moment that her old friend is Escher.

After the revelation, the night between the girls continues as normal until they all fall asleep together.

There’s one unfortunate problem that night. Mangus was left alone to wander. He didn’t know where to meet everyone, so he ended up in the dark manor while everyone else was at the guest house. Not a single light was on inside the manor, except for in the closed off study. He checks the door and sees that it’s locked, annoyed that he didn’t have any thieves’ tools on him to try and break in. He doesn’t dwell on that thought for long. When he realizes that whoever’s in there is coming out, he hurries to hide so that he’s not noticed.

From his hiding spot, he can hear Vasili walking out of the study, lightly beating something against his hand. He didn’t see what it was, but it was something with a bit of weight to it. Mangus then hears Vasili go back into the room and douse the fire before leaving it with the door locked shut behind him. In the pitch black manor, Mangus hears Vasili walk up the stairs. Mangus tries to go back towards the study to check the door, but in the process, he hears Vasili call, “I know you’re down there.”

Vasili then walks down the stairs in the pitch black manor, appearing to navigate fine despite being a human. Mangus is a little perplexed and tells him that he was trying to find the others, to which Vasili laughs and tells him that he’s in the completely wrong build. But Vasili does offer to take him back to the guest house.

On the way there, Vasili engages in small talk with Mangus in the dark. He asks about Adelaide, but Mangus can’t seem to get his words out. During his fumbling, Vasili asks Mangus to look at him. It’s here that suddenly Mangus finds himself to be charmed. He sees Vasili as a trusted friend to be protected. He can tell him anything, so he does. He’s able to get his words out that he’s interested in Adelaide in a romantic sense, but he’s still trying to process his feelings. It’s what Vasili says that causes the air around them to still.

“You better be careful with that. You do not want to get on Escher’s bad side. Or mine.”

It’s then that Mangus let’s Vasili bite him, revealing himself to be a vampire. After a considerable amount of damage, he says this to Mangus:

“You will not speak of what happened here, you will not tell anyone I spoke with you, and, if I can help it, you will not remember what happened here.”

Flopsy soon comes to the door to the guest house after they’re done, and Vasili briefly engages in pleasantries before going back to the manor. Flopsy drags Mangus into bed to sleep, and from the other room it sounds a little bit awkward. But the session ends there, as the adventurers take their rest.

[likeshipsonthesea]

Sean the LAX Bro

four score and many a year ago, i wrote this. a fun, one-off ficlet about the start of dex’s tryst with a lax bro. since then, it has continued to be a hc of mine that dex is one of two people on the team, prior to whiskey, who has in fact fucked a lax bro (the other is holster, that is Another Story).

until now, that has been the whole story. BUT NOW i will be posting the beginning of the Canonical Sean the LAX Bro fic that i started a long time ago and never got the inspiration to finish. it is not as cracky/playful as the original, but every time i’ve read it over i’ve really liked it and as a part of the WIPitgood thing going around the fandom, i’ve decided to post what i have

some warnings for homophobia and age difference in a relationship (my oc Luke is back y’all) but otherwise it’s p tame

i hope y’all like it :)

         It happens because of a frat party, surprisingly not a Haus one. Instead, it’s a party at one of the nerdier frats, a street over from the road where the Haus sits. It’s not a terrible party—it’s got pretty good music, efficient booze, enough people attending to shake the floors—but, after a kegster, a regular old party just won’t hold up anymore.

         Dex is not having a good time. Aside from the fact that he misses the bone-deep thrum of a kegster like a physical ache, the only person he knows at the party is some guy from his comp-sci class, John or Jake or whatever, and he left Dex alone within ten minutes of arriving. Now Dex is stuck wandering aimlessly through the house looking for something to do. He finds an uptight game of pong in one room (too many physics majors calculating trajectories instead of just going off skill) and, in the next, he finds either a body shot competition or an orgy, so he hurries to get through there real quick before he gets sucked in.

         The door he finds lets out into a quieter but still full room of—surprise— even more people he doesn’t know. He takes a long sip of his drink, which doesn’t take the edge off like tub juice but does the job well enough. When he pulls his cup from his mouth, it reveals a pretty boy with a big smile standing right in front of him.

         “Hi,” the pretty boy says. God, he’s gorgeous. Big blue eyes that twinkle with his pristine white smile, perfectly clear skin and angular features, soft in just the right places. Dex feels his fingers tighten around his cup. He vaguely wonders if his reaction is due to his generally little experience talking to pretty boys with the potential of actually doing something about it, or if Dex would be this Shook no matter what. Pretty Boy says, “I’m Sean.”

         “Dex,” he responds, a second too late, his voice rough. Sean’s grin impossibly widens.

         “You look about as lost as I did at my first frat party,” Sean says, leaning in closer, as if he’s sharing a secret only Dex gets to know. Breathe, Dex, breathe.

         “S’not my first, actually,” Dex says, rubbing at the back of his head. Did Sean’s eyes track the movement? Dex must be hallucinating. “The ones I’m used to just usually have more people I know.”

         Sean hums, and Dex can hear it over the music only because of their proximity. “Well,” he says, a thoughtful look on his face and a mischievous twinkle in his eye. “You know me now, right?” He knocks his cup lightly against Dex’s, his smile wide and enticing, and Dex finds himself listing forwards as if he’s being physically pulled.

         Within minutes, Sean has Dex snorting unattractively into his cup, laughing so hard his chest aches. Dex has no idea why Sean is still talking to him, as Dex is making an absolute ass of himself, staring blankly into Sean’s face like a middle-schooler with a crush. Still, Sean talks and jokes and—flirts? Dex doesn’t exactly have experience with flirting with men, but he’s pretty sure all of this—the soft teasing, Sean finding a reason to reach out and touch Dex’s hand, arm, chest, Sean’s eyes filled with heat—it has to mean something, right?

         They talk for an hour or so, slowly filtering into other areas of their lives. Dex talks about how he’s adjusting to being away from home for the first time and Sean shares tips he’s learned since being here for a year. They talk about their families, a little, Dex mentions his asshole of a brother and how he misses him anyway, and Sean shares a story about when his sister shaved off one of his eyebrows in his sleep. Dex finds himself sharing fears about college that he hasn’t even told the team or his family back home. Sean is funny and kind and easy to talk to—not to mention he’s fucking hot.

         Sean finishes his drink and knocks his empty cup against Dex’s matching one. His has been empty for the past twenty minutes but he hadn’t wanted to stop talking to Sean. He leans in closer and, his voice soft, he asks, “Would you like to get out of here?”

         Dex may have little experience with the flirting thing, but this, at least, is familiar territory. He grins. “Definitely.”

         It’s just starting to get cold out, so they make the walk back to Sean’s place pressed together, shoulder to shoulder. Dex is tipsy but not drunk, just a pleasant buzz under his skin, anticipation building in his chest. They cut through the backyard towards a frat house, as Sean apparently lives in one. They go in through the backdoor and climb the stairs, trying to be quiet so they don’t wake up Sean’s housemates. Finally they reach his bedroom and Dex follows him inside only to be pushed up against the inside of the closed door.

         “You okay with this?” Sean asks, already a little breathless, and in the semi-darkness of the room, the only thing Dex can see is the moonlight reflecting off of Sean’s wide smile. He presses his hands into Sean’s tense abdominals and there’s little to no give.

         “More than okay,” Dex says, and leans down to finally get a taste of that wide, enticing smile. It hasn’t been a ridiculously long time but kissing Sean reminds Dex of how fucking good kissing can be, even when it’s like this, a bit tipsy and messy but hot. Dex feels like he’s being consumed and he’s completely fine with it, wants it, wants to disappear under Sean’s lips and teeth and hands.

         Dex throws his head back to try and suck in a breath, and Sean takes this as invitation to drift lower and suck pretty bruises into Dex’s skin. “Fuck,” Dex exhales, shaky, and feels Sean’s mouth spread into a grin against his neck. “Don’t get cocky,” Dex says, digging his nails into Sean’s shoulder, realizing then that he wants Sean’s shirt off more than anything else.

         “Thought that was the point?” Sean says into Dex’s collarbone, stifling his giggles, and Dex groans because how the fuck. How can Sean be hot and seductive and delicious, while also being ridiculously endearing? It isn’t fair.

         “Oh God, shut up.” Dex pushes his hands up under the edge of Sean’s t-shirt, rucking it up until Sean gets the message and pulls back to tug it over his head and throw it somewhere behind him. Dex sighs at the sight he makes, skin gone soft in the moonlight, muscles tight and defined, slightly crooked grin on his face.

         Oh yes, Dex thinks, stepping forwards to push Sean back towards the bed, tonight is going to be good.

 *~*~*

           Dex wakes up with the sun in his face, a heavy arm around his waist, and a satisfied warmth running throughout his whole body. He stretches, sitting up, and Sean grumbles, pushing his face into Dex’s hip. Dex smiles faintly, brushing his fingers through Sean’s hair as he reaches for his phone on the bedside table. It tells him that he has practice within the hour, so he pulls himself from Sean’s bed and clinging limbs to try and collect his clothes.

        He finds his briefs hanging from Sean’s desk lamp and puts them on, hopping around to find his t-shirt on the ground. He scratches at his stomach, where cum has dried to his skin and left it hard and flaky. He grimaces, pulling his shirt on over it. He’ll definitely have to go home and take a shower before practice and or he’ll never make it through the chirping. Then he looks up, in search of his pants, and sees himself in the mirror, neck covered in marks that drift down under his collar and most definitely spread even further. Guess the chirping is a sure thing no matter what, then.

         “Mm, where’re you goin’?” Sean says, muffled, into his pillow, and Dex huffs.

         “Probably to be teased to death by my teammates for all the marks you left on me, dude.” Dex spots his pants on Sean’s bookshelf and grabs them, bending over to pull them on. They apparently make his ass look great, or at least Bitty says so. He’s right, if the way Sean’s eyeing him as he pulls them on fully is any indication.

         “Teammates?” Sean asks, dragging his eyes back up to Dex’s face, where he’s grinning knowingly. Despite his blush, Sean asks, “What d’you play?”

         “I’m on the hockey team,” Dex says, searching idly for his socks and shoes. When he looks back at Sean in the bed, he’s lost all the mugginess of sleep and is staring, wide-eyed and horrified, back at Dex. “What? What’s wrong?”

         “You’re on the hockey team?” he asks, voice much higher than before.

         Dex nods slowly. Hadn’t that come up last night? Maybe not. “Yeah. Why?” Sean groans and buries his face in the pillow in front of him. Dex shifts in his spot. “Dude, c’mon. Why’s that a big deal?” Sean says something into the pillow that just sounds like a series of anxious grunts to Dex. “What’s that?”

         Sean sighs and turns his head, staring up at Dex with something half-sad, half-terrified. “I’m on the lacrosse team.”

         Dex freezes in place. He can feel as his face mirrors Sean’s worried expression. Fuck. “I’m in the LAX frat right now?” Sean nods gravely. “Fuck.”

         “Yeah.”

         Dex takes a seat at Sean’s desk chair and puts his face in his hands. “Fuck. Fuck. I fucked a LAX bro. Shitty’s gonna kill me.”

         “Chad R. is going to kill me. So is Chad S.”

         “You have two guys on your team named Chad?” Dex looks up to give Sean an incredulous expression.

         Sean says, “Three, actually.”

         Dex groans. “What have I done?” He shakes his head. He thinks back to last night, talking with Sean, opening up, laughing. God. It had been good, okay, the talking and the banter and the everything. Dex liked Sean. Still does, if he’s honest, but he’s a LAX bro. Even if Dex didn’t agree that they were all kind of assholes—which he does, the LAX team is a petri dish of toxic masculinity and misogyny and they’re also just huge dicks—trying to date a LAX bro would never work.

         He looks up from the floor and stares back at Sean. He can feel the weight of all the dead possibilities between them, heavy and suffocating. Dex swallows roughly and takes a deep breath. “Okay,” he says, and he shouldn’t be this sad, they haven’t even known each other for a day. But they could’ve been—no, it doesn’t matter. Not anymore. “Okay,” Dex repeats, “this’ll be fine. No one has to know. I won’t tell anyone, you won’t tell anyone. I’ll leave now and it’ll be fine.”

         “Yeah,” Sean says, and his lips quirk up at the corners, the horror in his expression draining, leaving behind a soft melancholy that Dex wants to kiss away. He says, “It’s been fun, Dex.”

         Dex grabs his socks and shoes and offers something like a smile back. “It could’ve been,” he says, and turns towards the door.

         Suddenly, there’s a knock. “Sean, brah, get the fuck up! We’ve got practice!” Dex jumps, turning to share a panicked look with Sean, and then they both simultaneously look at the window.

         This is how Dex finds himself shimmying down the drain pipe on the side of the LAX frat without his shoes on. He makes it to the bottom and hops down, the cold dew of the grass freezing his toes. Sean sticks his head out of the window and grins down at him. “I’ll see you around.”

         “Probably not,” Dex calls back up at him, and then runs to the other side of the street, pulling on his shoes. He makes it back to his dorm and showers, changes, and then leaves for practice. The whole while he tells himself that this is fine, it was a one-off, good time and that’s it.

         It should be it. It’s not.

 *~*~*

           Team breakfasts are loud. Dex doesn’t really know what to do with them, sometimes, so he tries to keep to himself at the end of the table. The hickies on his neck still haven’t disappeared, though they’re now nearly gone. Still, whenever any of the guys see them, they make a face like they’re proud, or want details or something, and Dex doesn’t know how to say it was a guy let alone it was a lax bro so he ducks them whenever he can.

         Bitty takes a seat on Dex’s left, talking a mile a minute about something back home that his mother told him about, and Dex listens to his voice, if not the words. Something about Bitty’s lilted and slow tone is comforting to Dex, and he lets that cover him like a blanket as he tries not to fall asleep into his cereal.

         Vaguely, Dex hears someone call, “Shut up, already!” from one table over and he doesn’t think much of it until Holster and Ransom are standing from their seats and yelling back.

         “What’d you say to him?” Holster asks, his usual playful expression gone with a second. For a 6’4 dude, Holster almost never looks intimidating, but right now Dex wouldn’t even get near him.

         “He won’t shut up and it’s fucking early, man,” the same guy says, and Dex turns to see he’s sitting at the LAX table. Sean isn’t there, which Dex can’t help but be grateful for.

         “Then fucking plug your ears and leave us the fuck alone,” Ransom yells back, and the surrounding tables do not seem pleased with all the commotion and Dex would be embarrassed but these dicks are harassing Bitty. Bitty. The embodiment of everything good in the world.

         “Just tell your girlfriend to keep her mouth closed,” the guy says, smirking all shittily, and Dex knows that kind of grin well, knows the kind of taunts that come from between those lips, and his blood boils before he can help himself and he’s going to hit something, he knows it—

         “The fact that you use gender as an insult just reinforces the lack of confidence in your own masculinity,” Shitty says, using his matter-of-fact asshole voice that Lardo says is the closest he can sound to his father. He only uses it when he wants to piss people off.

         “What’d you say to me?”

         “He said you’re just a part of a broken machine aimed to eviscerate the emotional capacity of masculine people,” Ransom says, catching Shitty’s condescending tone.

         Holster continues in the same vein, “Yeah, you’re just part of the problem, man. Don’t you get tired having to assert your dominance over every fucking situation? Just take a seat, dude, let your emotions out.”

         The LAX bro mutters something that sounds like, “Fucking hockey team,” and turns back around to his table. Bitty is now completely pink and hiding his face in his breakfast, but his lips are upturned in the corners.

         “Y’all didn’t have to do that,” he says, quiet, and Holster ruffles his hair softly, softer than he usually is.

         “Of course we did, Bits,” Ransom says with a wide, handsome grin.

         “Got your back,” Shitty says, resolute, and they all go back to their breakfasts.

         After a minute, Dex prompts, “So what did Mrs. Henderson do about her missing begonias?” and Bitty starts talking again, not even a degree softer than he’d been before.

         Walking home from the dining hall, Dex tries not to make comparisons to his old team, how they’d wait until he turned his back before they called him any number of slurs that cut at his skin, how that had been the most respect they could’ve held for him. There are an endless number of comparisons to make—the difference between chirping and insulting, how having your back on and off ice is more than just a means to a win, the way Dex smiles more than he ever thought he could—and Dex could tire himself with trying to evaluate them all, but still.

        It’s nice to have the difference.

 *~*~*

           The next time it happens, Dex really can’t be blamed.

         Samwell is very big on making sure there are an infinite number of spaces for someone to acquaint themselves with. Only a month into the school year, Dex is a part of a program for first-generation college attendees, athletic scholarship awardees, financial aid awardees, STEM oriented students, and student athletes. And those are only the ones sponsored specifically by the college. Dex is in a handful of other clubs and organizations meant to aid his transition to college.

         Mostly, Dex hangs out with the team, some friends he made from class, and people from the tech club he’s in. People from the other organizations are mostly acquaintances. If he sees them on campus or in class, he’ll give them a nod, but they aren’t planning any kegsters together or anything. Still, Dex attends the soirees they invite him to, standing scratchy and uncomfortable in a suit that doesn’t fit quite right—“You should get something tailored,” Nurse would say, infuriatingly—and sips at his sparkling cider and counts down the seconds until he can leave.

         He’s having a particularly boring conversation with a trustee or an alumni or a donor or whatever when Dex sees Sean from across the room. It’s been a few weeks since Dex climbed out his bedroom window and he hasn’t thought about him constantly or anything, he’s not obsessed, but. Well, sometimes he’ll pass the LAX frat on the way to the Haus or he’ll see a couple of guys tossing a ball around on the Quad or he’ll be trying to fall asleep to no avail, and he’ll think of Sean, of his laughter and his hands, and he’ll miss him, just a little. A tiny, manageable amount.

         Now, now Sean is talking to his own donor/trustee/alumni, throwing his head back slightly in a beautiful laugh, and Dex wants way more than a manageable amount. He excuses himself from the conversation and heads for the bathroom to cool down and get ahold of himself. He grabs a paper towel and soaks it in some cool water, dabbing lightly at his face to try and stave off his blush. He huffs as it doesn’t go down at all and throws away the towel. He looks at his reflection, tugs his collar straight, stares himself down.

         “You will be normal,” he says, firmly, just as a man leaves a stall. Dex’s flush gets deeper as the man gives him a short look before washing his hands and leaving. Great. The being normal thing is going just gr—

         “Dex?” Dex looks up and there’s Sean, standing half in the doorway of the bathroom, staring at Dex’s reflection with an open-mouthed, soft expression that Dex wants to touch.

         “Sean.” Dex swallows. “Hey.”

         After a few loaded moments, Dex realizes that he hasn’t turned around yet, so he steels himself and does it. Sean cleans up nice. Like, really nice. His suit looks tailored, if the way it fits him is any indication, and he might not have a hockey ass but damn is it a good one. His tie is a soft blue that complements his eyes. There’s one stray curl at his collar that Dex wants to smooth out but he doesn’t. They just stand there staring at one another until Dex can’t handle it anymore and coughs.

         “I’d better—”

         “Yeah, I don’t want to—”

         “—get back to the—”

         “—keep you.”

         “—party.”

         They seem to have only managed to gotten closer, as Dex tried to leave and Sean tried to move towards a stall. Now they’re so close that Dex can see a spot where Sean missed when he was shaving and all Dex wants to do is brush his thumb against it. “Fuck,” he hears himself say, and in the next second Sean is kissing him.

         (See, Dex really can’t be blamed.)

         “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” Dex manages to get them behind a stall door before he lets himself melt into it. It still is a school sponsored function and he really doesn’t want an alumni/donor/trustee walking in to find Dex shoving his hands up the back of another student’s button down.

         “God, you’re fucking huge,” Sean mumbles against Dex’s mouth, his hands curling around Dex’s shoulders. Dex hums and surges even closer, wrapping his arms around the small of Sean’s back, pulling him tight against Dex’s body. “Couldn’t stop thinking about your arms,” Sean says, pushing his hands inside Dex’s jacket to scratch at his chest through his shirt. “Bet you could hold me up against the wall and just—unngh.”

         Sean trails off as Dex finds a spot on the hinge of his jaw to focus his attention on. He really does have great skin—fucking LAX bros—and Dex has no reservations about staying there and working on making a deep pink-purple bruise like it’s his job, but he hears the door to the bathroom open and realizes that two pairs of feet in a stall are very suspicious. Looks like Sean’s going to have his fantasy come true.

         “Jump,” Dex mutters into Sean’s cheek, and then picks him up, pinning him against the wall, in one fluid movement. It knocks the breath out of Sean, but apparently in a good way, because he immediately rolls his hips against Dex’s.

         “God,” Sean says on a breath, and Dex kisses him to keep him quiet. He pulls back after a second or two to muffle his hiss into Sean’s shoulder as Sean reaches down and cups Dex through his slacks.

         “There’s someone in here,” he whispers, furious, into Sean’s ear.

         Sean simply grins. “You’d better be quiet, then.”

         About ten or so minutes later, they leave the stall, both thoroughly flustered. Dex’s flush is a complete lost cause and Sean can’t seem to get the stupid, smug grin off his face, so it’s very obvious what he’s just been doing. God, they’re hopeless.

         “Okay, so, that happened.”

         “Yeah it did—”

         “Sean.”

         Sean’s smug grin softens into something sheepish, kind. “Yeah. Sorry. I’ve just, kinda, been thinking about you.”

         God, that’s gay. Why does Dex like it so much? “I—I guess I have too.” He shakes his head. “But this would never work. We couldn’t tell our teammates, we couldn’t be seen together, I—I…”

         “Hey, hey, it’s alright.” Sean steps forwards and puts his hand on Dex’s hip, comforting. “I don’t want to force you into anything. We don’t have to do this again, we can control ourselves.” He smirks a little. “I hope, at least.”

         Dex looks at him for a few moments, thinking about the possibility of it all. He likes Sean, for his looks, sure, but more than that, he’s a nice person, kind and funny and interesting. Dex could see himself dating Sean, like actual, out-in-public, playing-footsie-under-the-table dates. He never thought he could have that with a guy. He wants it so much it aches.

         But the idea of sneaking around, like he had to back home, not telling any of the guys, his friends…. Dex doesn’t want that.

         “We can,” Dex says, and he must be imagining the fall in Sean’s expression. “We have to.”

         Sean smiles, but it’s heavy. “Yeah,” he says, leans up to press a kiss to the corner of Dex’s mouth. He leaves the bathroom with a lingering look and Dex is left alone, wanting.

 *~*~*

           Being alone in the halls of an unknown rink is creepy. Dex is half-exhausted and half-keyed up from their win tonight, and he finished showering and redressing faster than most of the guys in his pseudo-state, leaving him to walk the path back to the parking lot alone. It’s quiet, so the only thing he can hear are his footsteps echoing around the halls, and he’s got nothing to focus on except his thoughts, which are worrying enough that he wants to actually run from them. But that would just be weird so he walks, contained, tense, and hopes more than anything that no one—especially one no one— will find him.

         His prayers must fall on deaf ears.

         “Dex!” Jogging casually down the hall comes Luke Rossi. He’s got on the same grin he always wore back in high school, wearing a tight, soft-looking t-shirt that reads Cornell across the chest. Dex swallows down whatever feeling has lodged itself in his throat. “Hey,” Luke says, slowing to a stop in front of Dex. His brown eyes look a shade softer in the fluorescent lights, deceiving. “Long time no see.”

         Long time is a bit of a stretch. They saw each other over the summer. It was similar to every time they’ve seen each other over the summer for the past four years. Dark car, quiet beach, hands over mouths to stifle whatever sounds came out. At once, it feels both like it’s a million years away and as if Dex is still living that same moment. Luke has that effect on him.

         “Yeah,” Dex says anyway. He shifts his weight, nervous. “How have you been?”

         Luke laughs, bright, cheerful. Dex wonders if it always looked that fake or if he’s learned Luke too well by now. “Oh, you know. Hockey, school, the works. You actually know now! Finally in real school.” He claps Dex on the arm. “Samwell, whoa. I always knew you’d go somewhere smart.”

         Despite himself, the praise warms Dex. “Yeah, it’s been nice.”

         “I bet the folks back home lost their shit,” Luke says, with another laugh, this one shorter, more pointed. He knows better than most the rumors that clung to Dex’s back all through school, and going off to the Gay Ivy did nothing to alleviate them.

         “Yeah,” Dex says, and looks down.

         “But hey, you played a good game tonight. An assist and everything. We should go out and celebrate, I know this great place—”

         “Dex?” Dex looks up and over to see Ransom and Holster coming down the hall, both of them frowning. Dex shrinks down without thinking. “Is everything okay?”

         “Who’s this?” Ransom asks, coming up on Dex’s right. Holster takes his left. Dex feels even smaller between them.

         “This is Luke,” Dex says, half-gesturing towards him. “He was my old captain back home.” Luke grins, charming, at the introduction. He sticks his hand out.

         Holster hesitates. “I thought you were your team’s captain,” he says, frowning.

         “He was captain when I was a freshman.” Dex fidgets, pulling at the material of his sweatpants. “I took over when he left.”

         “Oh,” Holster says, nodding exaggeratedly. He takes Luke’s hand and Dex sighs out his relief. “So you just want to catch up?” Holster directs to Luke.

         Luke grins wider, more charming, more plastic. “Yeah, man. Just thought I’d take him out with some of the guys, talk the game, stuff back home.” He shakes Ransom’s hand next, who returns his grin with a flat stare. Luke falters and looks back to Holster. “You know how it is, old teammates, I’m sure.”

         “Oh, I know—”

         Dex cuts Holster off. “I’ll see you guys later, okay?” He takes a step forwards and turns so he’s facing Ransom and Holster and standing next to Luke. They both shoot him downturned-lip-furrowed-brow worried expressions. “Tell Chowder I’ll be back at the room a bit late.”

         “You sure?” Ransom frowns, staring unflinchingly at Dex.

         Dex—he doesn’t know what to do with this. The protectiveness. The care. It makes him fidgety, nervous, almost itchy. He doesn’t know if he likes it or not yet, and though he doesn’t really know how to describe the way he feels about Luke either, that pit in his stomach is at least familiar.

         “Yeah,” Dex says, and Luke throws a casual arm over his shoulders. It’s uncomfortably heavy, but it’s a weight Dex knows how to deal with.

         “I’ll have him back by midnight, boys,” Luke says, joking, though the looks on Ransom and Holster’s faces seem to imply they would appreciate just that. Luke nods. “Alright then.” He turns and starts walking them down the hallway towards the exit Dex had been looking for earlier. “Your teammates are a bit strange, Dex,” Luke says with a laugh, as they make their way out.

         “They’re just big on taking care of each other, at Samwell,” Dex says, and identifies the curl in his chest as guilt for not defending them.

         Luke laughs. Dex can see the exit clearly from where they are now. “Of course the sissy school is big on caring shit.” Luke’s arm tightens around his shoulders. “You must hate it there.”

         They’ve reached the exit to the stadium. It’s too late to turn back, so Dex just says nothing and follows. Luke always liked it best that way, anyway.

 *~*~*

           Within half an hour, they’ve reached a secluded field. Luke turns off the car. He gets out and flattens the backseats so there’s one big opening in the back. Dex joins him, quiet, and begins taking off his shirt.

         They say nothing for the next twenty minutes. Luke keeps his fingers pressed tightly over Dex’s lips even though he’s long since trained himself to be silent. The soft sounds of skin against skin and choked-off breathing fill the humid air. It’s cold outside but it’s boiling inside the car. It was always like that, too, back in Maine, the car so hot it almost felt like he couldn’t breathe. At one point, Dex convinced himself it was probably the closest he’d ever been to Hell.

         They dress in silence. During, Dex usually thinks of nothing except guilty, horrible pleasure. After, there’s nothing else to focus on but the adjectives. He sits in the passenger seat in rumpled clothes that stick to his sweaty skin, quickly cooling into something uncomfortable.

         Dex thinks of Sean, ridiculously. Of walking back to his dorm with cum drying on his stomach and going through a school function with slightly dirtied underpants. Both times he was dirtier, physically, than he is now, and still right now he’s the most uncomfortable.

         Sean didn’t make him uncomfortable. Sean made him giddy, made him smile, made him happy. Dex forgot, somehow, the desperation of being with Luke, the guilt and the fear. Now Dex remembers the way he used to pray, afterwards, ask God forgiveness for his sins, his inability to stop making them. His tongue tastes like communion wine gone sour and his body feels stiff with disgrace. Even now, all he can think of is how wrong he is.

         Twice he was with Sean and both times Dex had forgotten to repent.

         It wasn’t guilty with Sean. It wasn’t dirty or something to hide. Even when they had to be quiet, it was fun. There was laughter in his fingertips, a smile tucked under his tongue for Dex to find, to enjoy. Enjoy.

         Dex had never found joy in having sex with a man before.

         The weight of the aftermath with Luke lifts, then. Because it doesn’t have to be like this. Dex isn’t bad when he’s with a boy, he’s just bad when he’s with Luke. Maybe that’s unfair. Maybe he just tied all his childhood fears up in Luke and he can’t separate them now. Either way, Luke isn’t good for him, not anymore. Maybe he never was.

         “See you,” Luke says, when they pull up in front of the motel the team is staying in for the night.

         “Goodbye, Luke,” Dex says, and means it. He gets out of the car.

         Dex can like a boy. He can like a boy without his tongue curling itself into knots out of self-preservation. He can like a boy without looking over his shoulder for the godly reprimand he can’t help but anticipate coming. He can like a boy without hating himself for it.

         The lightness in his chest carries him up the walkway. He can like a boy. He can like a boy.

         The lightness fades, decently, when Dex remembers that he can like any boy but Sean. Then again, he thinks as Luke pulls away before Dex reaches the front door, he was never really destined for happiness anyway.

 *~*~*

           It’s too fucking cold to be lugging a laundry basket back from the Haus, but Dex’ll be damned before he coughs up cash for the dorm washers when there’s a perfectly shitty washer and dryer at the Haus. Poindexters are nothing if not stubborn to the point of physical injury. Which he’s dangerously close to accomplishing, at this very moment, as he attempts to get his dorm key out of his bag while squishing the laundry basket between his hip and the door.

         He gets the key out right before the basket slips and he triumphantly shoves it in the lock. Letting himself in, he drops the basket on his bed and turns around to shut the door only to see Sean standing in the open doorway.

         What.

         “Dex,” he says, breathless. “Hi.”

         “Uh, hi?” Dex is still kind of stuck at what. “What, uh, what are you—why are you here?”

         “Yeah, um.” Sean swallows. “About that.”

         “Sean?”

         “Okay, this is going to sound really creepy, but remember I’m cute, okay?”

         “What?”

         “Okay, so, uh. I saw you leaving the hockey frat with your laundry and I sort of, followed you and, fuck. I can’t stop thinking about you?” He winces at himself. “This is sounding so much creepier than it’s meant to. I just, I really like you, okay? I think we can get past the team thing. It’ll be kind of like Romeo and Juliet, right?”

         “They killed themselves at the end,” Dex points out.

         “Well, as long as you don’t take drugs from any priests and I don’t kill your cousin, I think we’ll be pretty okay.”

         “Sean,” Dex tries to say firmly, but he’s smiling.

         Sean half-smiles back. “I think we can do it. I really do.”

         “Sean…”

         “And remember how cute I am,” Sean adds quickly. “Also remember that I just ran up three flights of stairs because the elevator was full just for you.”

         “How did you even get in the building?”

         Sean grins. “I am very cute.” Dex gives him a flat look. Sean relents. “Okay, I pretended like I lived here and went in behind someone who opened the door.” He points at Dex. “But I am cute.”

         “I feel like you’re searching for validation here.”

         “And the polite thing to do would be to give it to me, wouldn’t it?” Dex looks at him, standing there a little short of breath with a small, crooked smile. Dex thinks about destiny and bad decisions and how it feels to like a boy.

         Dex takes half a step closer to Sean, and then two quick full steps until they’re kissing, soft, smiling. Fuck destiny. Dex is going to be happy if it kills him.

[ezzydean]

Fluffy prompt list (assuming you’d like requests 😂) IwaMatsuDai #003: I’m here for my daily fix of hugs and kisses

I am always here for more requests!

(click to read on my blog and not the dash)

Issei strolls into the studio and throws his arms wide.  “I am here for my daily fix of hugs and kisses.”

“Shove off,” Iwaizumi grumbles from his left.

“Go away,” Sawamura growls from his right.

He blinks in surprise.  Sure sometimes Iwaizumi wasn’t the happiest to see him depending on how much trouble he had gotten into recently.  And yeah occasionally Sawamura got pretty irritated with the shit Issei dragged him into.  But they’ve never both been irritated at the same time.  Not with him anyway.

“Where’s Makki,” he pouts.  “He loves me.”

“Hanamaki,” Sawamura says tersely and oh shit he doesn’t think he’s ever heard Sawamura use Makki’s actual family name like that, “is explaining to all our clients why their purchases will be late thanks to his idiocy and praying that we forgive him before we murder him.”

Issei wanders over towards Sawamura’s corner of the studio and winces when he sees at least three weeks worth of sketches and designs spread out in front of him.  Three weeks worth of sketches and designs that had come before another three, or more, weeks of actual work on the finished products.  He’ll be lucky if he ever sees Makki alive after this.

Issei sets down the cup of coffee had gotten for Sawamura on the corner of his desk and lightly squeezes his shoulder before crossing the room to Iwaizumi’s corner.  Iwaizumi’s desk looks just as disastrous.  Only a more colorful disaster and Issei can see the colored tabs and sheets that Iwaizumi uses that show these notes and sketches are from… Fuck three months ago?  Four?  Shit.

He sets Iwaizumi’s coffee down near his elbow and gently rubs Iwaizumi’s shoulders for a moment.

“Well at least let me know where his unmarked grave is so I can visit my best friend from time to time.  I’ll leave you guys to your work.”

He doesn’t think either of them really even notice him leave.  But that’s okay.  They’ve both got a lot on their plate right now.  He understands.

—

He made way too much food.  He knows he did.  There’s no way he can eat this much food.  Even in a few days.

He drags his hands through his hair with a groan.  He knows better.  He knows that when he’s stressed he cooks.  He also knows that Makki isn’t here right now to help him eat all this shit.  Neither is Oikawa.  Or Kyoutani.  None of his usual garbage disposals are available and now he has enough food to feed three or four adults for a few days and nowhere to go with it.

Which is why he wanders into Sawamura and Iwaizumi’s studio a couple hours later with bags of food hanging off of each arm.

“Knock knock?”  The door swings shut behind him and he has to blink a few times to adjust his eyes to the low light inside.  “Iwaizumi?  Sawamura?”  He swallows loudly at the silence.  “Makki?”  He knows Makki isn’t here but it’s habit to look for his best friend when he’s weirded out.  And he’s weirded out right now.  There’s no one seated at the chairs at either corner desk.  No one seated at Makki’s little receptionist desk by the door.  It’s creepily quiet.  “Anyone here?” he calls out a little louder.

A crash comes from behind the door at the back of the studio and a moment later Sawamura stumbles through the door.  He’s yawning and rubbing at his eyes and the knots in Issei’s stomach start to loosen at the sight.

“Sorry,” Sawamura mumbles, “I fell asleep on the couch back there.”

“Sorry I interrupted your nap.  But I brought food?”  Issei holds up his bags and grins.  “Some people stress bake.  I stress cook and tend to overdo it.  None of my usual dumping grounds are available right now.”  Sawamura steps over to him and takes the bags from his left arm, stopping his rambling with one kind smile.

“Thank you,” Sawamura says, still smiling.  “I haven’t eaten a home cooked meal in days.”

—

Iwaizumi falls against Issei’s back with a groan.  Issei smiles and reaches back to pat awkwardly at his head.

“If I ever take Shittykawa up on a drinking competition again please stop me.”

Issei laughs softly and pulls at Iwaizumi until he curls in Issei’s lap and buries his face against Issei’s throat, eyes safely away from the evil light of the room.

“You say that every time.  And every time I try to stop you.  And you tell me to shut up and mind my own business,” he reminds Iwaizumi, running his hand up and down the curve of Iwaizumi’s spine.  Iwaizumi mumbles something but it’s lost against Issei’s throat.  “At this point I swear it’s just an excuse for you to crawl in my lap for cuddles and back rubs.”  Iwaizumi doesn’t reply, already half asleep.  Issei didn’t really expect anything else.

—

Sawamura and Iwaizumi laugh in the bright lights of the restaurant, surrounded by their friends, and Issei smiles at the sight.  They’re leaning against each other, breathless and a little tipsy, and they deserve all the happiness.  They just finished a huge project that, from what he’s picked up from them, will net them enough income that they could go without another project for months without worrying at all.  They’re finally making their way in the world and he couldn’t be happier for them.

“Just so you know,” Makki says as he leans against the bar next to Issei, “I’m pretty sure neither of them realize you’re in love with them.”

Issei tears his gaze from them and turns to his best friend.  Makki is giving him a sympathetic look but he just laughs softly.

“That’s okay.”  Makki raises his brows.  “They’ll realize when they realize.  I’m patient.”

—

Sawamura glances up when he steps through the door of the studio and smiles when he spots Issei.

“Hey,” Sawamura says, “I wondered if you’d stop by today.”

“Oh?  Did you miss me?”  He winks at Sawamura before wandering over to Iwaizumi’s desk to leave his cup of coffee near his elbow.  Iwaizumi gives him a distracted smile and he heads over to Sawamura’s desk.

“Actually,” Sawamura says as he takes his coffee from Issei, “I did.”

Issei smiles and sits on the corner of Sawamura’s desk, watching as he flips through some notes and sketches.

—

Iwaizumi doesn’t even wait for Issei to get to his door before his opens it and comes inside.  Iwaizumi doesn’t even say ‘pardon the intrusion’ or anything remotely polite.  Iwaizumi simply kicks his shoes off into the pile of Issei’s shoes next to the door and stalks down the hallway towards him.

“You are not stepping foot in that kitchen,” is all Iwaizumi says as he catches Issei’s elbow and manhandles him down the hall to his bedroom.  He shoves Issei onto his bed and curls around him.  “I know you hate it this time of the year.  I know you’re stressed as fuck and Makki and the others aren’t here.”

Issei opens his mouth but shuts it again without saying anything.  He falls asleep peacefully for the first time in weeks.

—

Issei strolls into the studio and throws his arms wide.  “I am here for my daily fix of hugs and kisses.”

Sawamura pushes away from Iwaizumi’s desk in the corner and kisses Issei’s cheek as he grabs his cup of coffee from Issei’s hand.

“Thank you,” he murmurs against Issei’s cheek.

Issei blinks stupidly.  He says that almost every time he comes into the studio but they never do it.  It’s a joke.  A way to make them laugh at him and roll their eyes and make their day a little brighter.

Sawamura wraps an arm around his waist and squeezes softly before heading to his desk.  Issei watches him until he hears Iwaizumi clear his throat and he hurries over to Iwaizumi’s desk, dumb smile plastered on his face.

Iwaizumi grabs Issei’s scarf and tugs until Issei is face to face with him.  The kiss he drops on the corner of Issei’s lips is just as quick and sweet as the one Sawamura just planted on his cheek and he can only stare stupidly at the grin on Iwaizumi’s face as he reaches for his coffee.

“Thank you,” Iwaizumi says to him.  Then he leans back in his chair, fingers still tangled in Issei’s scarf, and calls across the room, “Hey Daichi I think we broke him.”

“Kiss him again and see if you can restart his brain or something,” Sawamura calls back.

“Yeah.  Kiss me again,” Issei says breathlessly.

Iwaizumi grins at him and does just that.

[swampythesweetsketch]

For the ship ask: Bentley × Sly

Who asks the other on dates: Sly. Lover boy likes to dish out the fancy food and take his cave lurker boyfriend out every couple weeks or so to air them out. Also he like this tiny italian place at this specific corner-

Who is the bigger cuddler: Sly. He near suffocates Bentley on a daily basis with how much fur gets lodged in the turtle's mouth.

Who initiates holding hands more often: Bentley. Sly may be subtle on the field, but Bentley is subtler overall. He likes that no one notices that they're doing. Until there's that one girl that can't take a hint, THEN Bentley like to point to his and Sly's hands. Together. Locked. Taken.

Who remembers anniversaries: Bentley. Calender and on the clock this man. Sly at least remembers their anniversary cause Birthdays are a sore spot for him.

Who is more possessive: Bentley. He is a tiny, near defenseless nerd that can only do so much damage. But if he sees someone like Neyla tyring to snatch up his twunk.

You're gonna die, honey.

Who gets more jealous: Neither. They got the best of both world of the dating scene. Sly got a partner who is completely honest and loyalty to him. Bentley got a partner that loves him regardless of looks or body power.

It doesn't stop them though when someone like Carmelita or Penelope come into their lives, jumping at the first chance to shut down any flirting. They hate it when people don't respect their rejections.

Who is more protective: Sly. He's grown up to be the tougher (and stupid-er) one that'll get his ass beat to protect the ones he loves.

Who is more likely to cheat: Sly. His worst nightmare is never passing down the Cooper Legacy, and in that has caused a ridiculous rift between him and Bentley. He doesn't think everything through; And until Bentley can get it through to Sly that yes, surrogates are a thing-

Sly keeps having nightmares of his hypothetical fox-raccoon children.

Who initiates sexy times the most: Bentley. This tiny man wants to throw down and size will never matter. Only pure horniness.

Who dislikes PDA the most: Neither. They're gonna flex on everyone that thinks they're Straight. They will staight up make out in front of Interpol if Murray hasn't dragged them into the van.

Who kills the spider: BOTH. KILL THE CONTESSA- KILL HER-

Who asks the the other to marry them: Bentley. He'll put a stop to all the nonsense with Sly's panic for offspring with a ring and NO WE ARE NOT LETTING CARMELITA BE THE SURROGATE-

Who buys the other flowers or gifts: Both. Sly gets a bouquet for funsies. Bentley orders a truckload to scare.

Who would bring up possibly having kids: Sly. You know it, he knows it, Bentley knows it, the nice lesbians down the street know it. Sly is baby crazy and it won't stop until he has one and he can cry.

Who is more nervous to meet the parents: Neither. Lol, what parents? But really- Bentley traverses a crowded cemetery every year to see Conner Cooper's grave and hear how Sly was given his roots. The turtle always feels a sadden twinge of pain for what his boyfriend lost.

Who sleeps on the couch when the other is angry: Both. They try to one up each other in this case and both take a side of the couch. Then Murray has to deal with a supposedly angry couple making out on the couch when he's waiting for his chicken nuggets to heat up in the microwave... sigh...

Who tries to make up first after arguments: Neither. Read above and tell me, who do you think wants to say they're sorry? Why say sorry? Have you ever seen these two gay idiots talk in game???

These guys would frick, get married, go on a honeymoon, adopt a couple kids, have a midlife crisis, get divorced, spend a decade doing their own shit, spend a shitload of money on vacations, have their own lovers, meet on a chilly Thurday night in the middle of busy Paris, catch up on old times, reminisce about the good old days, talk about the time they first met, get a little tipsy, frick, realize they still love each other, renew their vows, go on another honeymoon, adopt another kid for good measure, meet their grandkids, bicker at each other in old age.

And then. Just THEN-

Sly would apologize for that one time, 46 years ago, where he accidentally bumped Bentley's wheelchair and scared him and also Sly stubbed his toe but Bentley didn't care for his hubby's dumb toe.

Who tells the other they love them more often: Both. They are so stupid in their own way and will scream if they can't express their love within the 5 minute span of waking up.