#it doesn't have to have all of these things but this is what i'm missing

[nightingale-prompts]

Lay Me to Rest- DCxDP Prompt

Warning: Blood and gore

There has been a series of murders across the country. Each death was varied and self-inflicted. At first, they all seemed like suicide but each had a strange range of symptoms before death.

Sudden paranoia, incoherent mumbling, screaming or yelling, going in and out of their homes sporadically, random fixations, and finally self-harm.

The victims were teachers, parents, businessmen, truckers, and even a crime novelist. All unrelated and in different states.

Each victim didn't seem to have a connection until an investigation discovered that each one had been an active serial killer. The body counts ranged from as little as 5 to as much as 23. The killer was named the Serial Serial Killer which wasn't creative but it was catchy. Some called them the Angel of Vengeance but most thought it was cringy and overdramatic. Many people didn't want them to be caught but others hotly debated letting a killer dispense justice when their crusade could easily turn into them killing people for innocuous things.

The police were still questioning whether this killer even existed. One thing was clear, there was a trail and it led straight to Gotham. A goldmine for them. Naturally, Batman had gotten a hold on the case and began an investigation.

The biggest question was how the killer found their victims and how they knew that they were killers.

The answer was obvious. They didn't need to figure it out. They just needed to wait. Why just in the effort to investigate when a serial killer tries to convince you to leave with them? So bars are the obvious place. But that's shaky at best since there is a period of torment that takes place that allows the victims to return home. The killer doesn't care if the victims could call the police, perhaps because they know their victim won't.

Bruce started to build a profile. He saw a pattern here. Each of the victims had a preference for their victims as well. They targeted young people, mainly boys. Odds are the Serial Serial Killer matched that description or age range. So bars weren't the hunting ground. So parks were more likely to go unnoticed and boys tended to hang out there longer after dark.

The killer was more than likely a victim himself so he may have a few scars but probably not noticeable enough that his would-be assailants would be turned off. There is no ignoring the predatory nature of the victims. Each killed children for gratification in some form. It's not that the boy is attractive but he probably has traits that the victims found attractive in children. So babyfaced, short, native, and polite.

There was much else Bruce could get. There was nothing concrete and he still didn't understand the method that was used. So far this was guesswork.

It wasn't until a few weeks later while he tracking another killer that he found his answer.

Dr.Kinder a Biologist by day and a killer who experiments on his victims at night had picked up a promising new lab rat a week ago. He had intended to slowly dissect the boy. He had gotten so used to the screams he stopped using anesthetics besides he wanted to see how the fear response caused the organs to shift.

To his surprise the boy didn't fight, in fact he seemed to jump to the table and say he didn't need restraints. Disturbing. But he was restrained anyways.

As the doctor cut him open the boy didn't react, only humming to himself as he watched the doctor.

"What are you hoping to find?" He asked. "I'm getting bored and this bearly hurts."

The boy annoyingly never stopped talking and never missed a chance to ruin the moment. There were never any screams or cries but incessant talking.

Dr.Kinder found the boy disturbing so he simply took an axe and chopped the boy into pieces. Not once did he make a sound. The doctor thought it was over but the next day the boy was back. He sat on the autopsy table kicking his feet in nothing but his bare skin.

"What the hell are you?" The doctor gasped in horror.

"I'm bored. Play with me again." The boy purred.

Bile crawled up his throat as the doctor restained this...thing again.

This time the boy spoke differently.

"You cut me up last time. Did you do that to the last boy. After you...you know." A sick grin spread across his cheeks.

The doctor cut open his neck this time and let him bleed out.

Everyday he came back and every day the doctor killed him until the time between his death got shorter and shorter. The days began to blur and he had no idea how long he had been doing this. But that thing kept talkimg to him.

Dr.Kinder stared down at his desk at the papers trying to think of anything but-

"I wonder what people would think about what you've done. You're a disgusting and depraved man doctor. Look at what you've done to me." The sing-song voice of that demon called out.

He could feel those blood-soaked arms wrapped around his neck.

He flinch as he pushed the thing away.

"Oh, are you going to beat me or stab me this time? Ooo, or are you going to put me through the woodchipper again?" The demon asked as the doctor wrapped his hands around his throat.

He just kept squeezing until the boy went limp. It never ends. The blood never goes away. It covered every surface of the room. Dripping, conjugating, and spreading into every corner. Whenever he turned his head he could see body parts spread across the room in the pools of blood he could they the faces of the others that he had killed. Each face wretched in agony.

"You hold on better than the others. I've been eaten, torched, and disemboweled before but after coming back a few times they usually end it after a few words. But every time they don't feel guilt. They just don't want to face consequences." The boy said. "Do you even remember my name? The one I told you when you picked me up on the side of the road or was I just another body to use and discard? I used the name of your first victim. I hoped you'd notice."

The doctor knew he couldn't kill the boy but he could end himself. He had tried it once but just like the kid he came back without a scratch.

"Not yet. This is your life now. Come on, let's taste death together. Again and again and again and again and-" he repeated over and over.

This was hell. This was his hell.

But it came to an end eventually. Dr.Kinder put an end to himself in a gruesome display.

Batman had only caught the tail end as he faced a young boy standing an a pool of blood.

****

"Yeah, that thing is like a worse version of a revenant. Doesn't really have a name yet to describe it. It's undead for sure. You kill it and it just comes back." Constantine said "Why did you bring it here?"

After a long bath and some new clothes, the kid looked normal as played on a phone given to him.

"Look, I didn't know what else to do." Bruce explained.

"You leave it alone!" Constantine said exasperated "Look they are harmless to anything they don't bear a grudge towards. Think of it as a force of nature." Constantine said.

"I just want to know how to stop him." Bruce said.

"Well you can't kill it but you can't bring him back entirely. You can just soothe it 'till it stops targeting its victims. It must have died pretty gruesomely to go to these lengths. You need to find where it died and lay it to rest. Properly." Constantine sighed knowing that appeasing this soul would be more than just difficult.

"Danny, come on. Let's go." Bruced said putting a hand on the boy's head as Danny stood up to leave.

"Okay. Bye!" Danny waved to Constantine.

[grison-in-space]

you know what else fucks me up about the US election? one of the things that has left me reeling in bewilderment and grief this month?

I'm a scientist, y'all.

That means that I am, like most American research scientists, a federal contractor. (Possibly employee. It's confusing, and it fucks with my taxes being a postdoctoral researcher.) I get paid because someone, in the long run ideally me, makes a really, really detailed pitch to one of several federal grant agencies that the nation would really be missing out if I couldn't follow up on these thoughts and find concrete evidence about whether or not I'm right.

Currently, my personal salary is dependent on a whole department of scientists convincing one of the largest and most powerful granting agencies that they have a program that is really good at training scientists that can think deeply about the priorities of the agency. Those priorities are defined by the guy who runs the agency, and he gets to hire whatever qualified people he wants. That guy? The Presidential Administration picks that one. That's how federal agencies get staffed: the President's administration nominates them.

All of the heads of these agencies are personally nominated by the president and their administration. They are people of enormous power whose job is to administer million-dollar grants to the scientists competing urgently for limited funds. A million dollars often doesn't go farther than a couple of years when it's intended to pay for absolutely everything to do with a particular pitch, including salaries of your trainees, all materials, travel expenses, promoting the work among other researchers, all of it—so most smart American researchers are working fervently on grants all the time.

The next director of the NIH will be a Trump appointee, if he notices and thinks to appoint one. NSF, too; that's the group that funds your ecology and your astroscience and your experimental mathematics and physics and chemistry, the stuff that doesn't have industry funding and industry priorities. USDA. DOE, that's who does a lot of the climate change mitigation and renewable energy source research, they'll just be lucky if they can do anything again because Trump nigh gutted them last time.

Right now, I am working on the very tail end of a grant's funding and I am scurrying to make sure I stay employed. So I'm thinking very closely about federal agency priorities, okay? And I'm thinking that the funding climate for science is going to get a lot fucking leaner. I'm seeing what the American people think of scientists, and about whether my job is worth doing. It's been a lean twelve years in this gig, okay? Every time the federal government gets fucked up, that impacts my job, it means that I have to hustle even harder to get grants in that let me support myself—and, if I have any trainees, their budding careers as well!—to patch over the lean times as much as we can.

So I've been reeling this week thinking about how funding agency priorities are going to change. I work on sex differences in motivation, so let me tell you, the politics reading this one for my next pitch are going to be fun. I'm working on a submission for an explicitly DEI-oriented five year grant with a cycle ending in February, so that's going to be an exercise in hoping that the agency employees at the middle levels (the ones that know how to get things done which can't be replaced immediately with yes men) can buffer the decisions of those big bosses long enough to let that program continue to exist a little while longer.

Ah, Christ, he promised Health & Human Services (which houses the NIH) to RFK, didn't he? We'll see how that pans out.

I keep seeing people calling for more governmental shutdowns on the left now, and it makes me want to scream. The government being gridlocked means the funding that researchers like me need doesn't come, okay? When the DOE can't say fucking "climate change," when the USDA hemorrhages its workers when the agency is dragged halfway across the country, when I watch a major Texan House rep stake his career on trying to destroy the NSF, I think: this is what you people think of us. I think: how little scientists are valued as public workers. Why am I working this hard again?

This is why I described voting as harm reduction. Even if two candidates are "the same" on one thing you care about, they probably aren't the same level of bad on everything. Your task is to figure out the best person to do the job. It's not about a fucking tribalist horse race. A vote is your opinion on a job interview, you fucks. We have to work with this person.

Anyway, I'm probably going to go back to shaking quietly in despair for a little longer and then pick myself up and hit the grind again. If I'm fast, I might still get the grant in this miserable climate if I run, and I might get to actually keep on what I'm trying to do, which is bring research on sex differences, neurodivergence and energy balance as informed by non-binary gender perspectives and disability theory to neuroscience.

Fuck.

[firelightmlpoc]

This is Pansear (if you want proof, look at my pinned blog; I'm well aware that there are a lot of imposters out there). I wish to say thank you for being open minded while also acknowledging that- yes- I did fuck up at times. I didn't treat Azriel the best. I was selfish towards the MAP collaborators. I wasn't a particularly great person in general- all that I admit, and I have my own separate posts for those. Overall, I'm sorry.

The harassment was too much and the screenshots were obviously fake. It wasn't fair to me. It wasn't fair to anyone either including those who believed were fake too, even to future potential victims of allegations and former victims of harassment campaigns. I left not in admittance of guilt, but to everything else that has boiled over (again, I detailed this in a post).

I know there's people beaming to know that I'm alive and well (and of course, people who are angry that I'm not). I just want to say that I'm sorry for having to leave everyone in the dark for so long, and that I was basically a POS back then.

It saddens me as well that this whole situation not only affected me- it has affected most of the fandom. It has affected the other artists, who no longer feel safe and comfortable. It has affected my friends, who missed me and feel lost in the dark. It has affected my fans, who worry about me and feel so conflicted about everything. It has affected friend groups who are distanced in their conflicts.

Even for the things I didn't do, I still felt horrible. There were no winners in the end, and any winner I could describe are those vile people hiding behind anons who have hurt the most.

People can already predict that I will never return and that is definitely the case. Not just for the sake of my well-being, but I believe it's for the best for everyone in general. It's been far too long that I danced through the harsh weathers- some strange fucked up game of ping pong, and it's time to put it to rest. I don't care if people will hate me still, all I care about is everyones' safety and for those who have been hurt to heal from this.

I have no real say on the Emily side of things. Indeed what she did to Azriel was irresponsible, but she doesn't deserve the harm and harassment she's got and been getting. Nobody does. Not even my calloutters and my harassers. Looking at their responses and posts just makes me feel bad. I can't help but feel sorry for them.

I hope you yourself are doing well. To all others reading this, I hope you all are too. The fandom isn't the same but I know love can persist somewhere. I am leaving it all up to you to make this place so much better, and that one day everyone can laugh again.

For now, I'm hoping things can rest.

I’m glad to hear you’re doing alright. And as you’ve said: Yes, you have done things wrong, but the actions taken against you were far beyond the pale for what you actually did.

An apology backed by action towards self-betterment is a good apology, & is what you’ve shown to be doing, though I truly wish that the cost you’ve had to pay for this all wasn’t so steep. I hope that you’re still able to find enjoyment in your art still, & hope that you’re able to heal from all of this, even if it takes a good bit of time to do so.

May the path you walk no longer hurt to stand on, & may you find yourself at peace with all of it some day.

[userautumn]

He knows he shouldn't, but Buck texts Tommy anyway. Once Jee is covered in chocolate and cookie crumbs, once she's drifting off to sleep against his arm with Moana playing softly in the background, he pulls up their text thread with his unoccupied hand and clicks on the message bar. He ignores the grey and blue messages that sit above, messages—warm, kind, and loving—that speak to a happier time and instead chooses to type out a quick message.

Jee misses you.

He sends off the text and then pockets his phone. Slips out of Jee's sticky grasp so he can start cleaning the kitchen before it's time to put her to bed. He's so deep in thought that he almost misses the way his phone vibrates in his pocket.

What did she say?

"Uncle Tommy come play?"

Tommy doesn't respond for a while, long enough that Buck gets to imagine his face, pinched and in pain, with tears in his eyes. Or maybe Tommy's just fine. Maybe Buck is the one pinched and in pain, emotional and so damn sick of crying all the time.

I'm sorry.

Sorry to her or sorry to me?

It's not fair. Buck knows it's not as soon as he sends it, but Tommy replies seconds later anyway.

Sorry to both of you.

Buck stares at the text until his screen goes blank, trying to decide which of the emotions he's currently drowning in that he wants to feel. He settles on anger.

If you were that sorry, you wouldn't have dumped me three days after our six month anniversary.

Never mind.

This was dumb.

I shouldn't have bothered.

Sorry to have bothered you.

Bye.

Goodbye, Evan.

Buck's heart lurches into his throat at the sight of his name on screen, his eyes widening and his breath quickening. An embarrassing rush of hope stirs deep in his chest before he can clamp down on it and it feels like breathing for the first time in weeks. Another text comes through immediately after.

Sorry. It's a habit. I'm so sorry. Goodnight, Buck. Please tell Jee-Yun that I hope to see her soon.

Buck stares for a long moment, then lets out a laugh, thin and mirthless, as humiliation—so much fucking humiliation—crawls up his gut, filling his mouth with bile and shame. Right. He should have known. Did know, probably, somewhere deep down in his gut. But Evan Buckley has always been a dreamer, a believer in the impossible. Even and especially when it costs him.

I'm not going to lie to her.

Tommy doesn't answer, and this time, Buck knows he won't. He slides his phone back into his pocket and stares down at the countertop. His hands are braced on the flat, smooth surface, the fingers of one hand slick with soapy water. He doesn't cry, but it's a damn near close thing. Hell, with the pain currently slicing and carving its way through his chest, he could probably scream with it, but he won't. He won't scare Jee and he won't wake the neighbors, he'll just... deal with it. Like he has been dealing with it, like he always deals with it.

Buck takes a deep breath. Then he grabs the dishcloth he'd thrown aside and walks back over to the sink. Dips the rag in hot, soapy water and wrings it out before returning to wipe down the counters once more. Whatever. All of this is just... whatever. Tommy breaks his heart—he lets Tommy break his heart—for the second time in a row and it's just fucking whatever. Right now, the kitchen needs to be cleaned and Jee-Yun needs to be woken up so she can brush her teeth before he tucks her in, and life does what it does best: it goes on.

He can cry about Tommy Kinard later. It's not like he gets much sleep these nights anyway.

[seraph5]

Now that I've listened to Re: Dracula I feel like I've been weirdly spoiled for a lot of other Draculas. Like don't get me wrong there's a lot of Dracula's out there to like but there was something really beguiling about:

a) Mina and Lucy's quite modern musings about their place in the world, the beginnings of wonderings about what they might like or could like as people not just as what society demands

b) Mina and Lucy's relationship. I just adore that they are surprisingly different characters and interact in a very realistic interesting way that you don't see a lot in media that depicts this time period. I also love how intelligent Mina is.

c) The absolute intensity of the bond and duty our heroes find themselves drawn into when put in this horrific situation. It really surprised and struck me the way that all these people with not extremely deep connections in a lot of cases closed ranks together in a silent fight to protect not just themselves but to break the cycle of evil. They, all of them, really showed a tremendous amount of care and kindness towards each other in this insane mission. Obviously it would have been nice if the boys had been less dumb about including Mina in things but their follies in that area were clearly a result of the time they lived in and not a fundamental personal lack of respect for mina.

d) I know everyone does not see this interpretation but I like that there is a quasi-homoeric undertone to Dracula and Johnathan's whole thing. Of course Johnathan is there under duress and I'm certainly not saying that there is something consensual or reciprocal going on but Dracula being so possessive of him especially with the brides gives an interesting undertone to some of the earlier parts of the book. There is a real sort of fascination Dracula seems to have for him as a conduit for information about his next conquest and he really tries to connect with him through the guise of society.

I haven't really ever seen all these points illustrated very strongly in other retellings or if it's there it doesn't communicate that feeling that makes these missed points so special. Worse it seems like a lot of the time they make really weird choices like merging characters or swapping characters or cutting characters for brevity or excitement. Which on one hand I kind of understand but when given the space the characters all have their own interesting points and perspectives and are interesting to experience.

I'd love to see a retelling that balanced all these things a little more and cut less. Maybe even have it be a mini series rather than a movie.

[barcaatthemoon]

goody two shoes || paige bueckers x reader ||

You and Paige take the next step in your relationship.

18+

Paige couldn't wait to see you. A couple of days every week, Paige had been coming over to hang out with you. She had gotten used to seeing you, so whenever she found herself unable to come over all week, Paige had been missing you a lot. Most of her teammates had no idea that Paige was going to hang out with you, and Paige kind of wanted to keep it that way.

Azzi and KK knew, but that was pretty much it. You weren't like most of the girls that tried to weasel their way into Paige's life. They wanted to fuck, and while Paige had been absolutely fine with that before, you being different intrigued her. You didn't really seem all that interested in sex with Paige or anybody at all.

"Damn P, what did sweet little (Y/n) do to get you rushing around like this?" KK asked teasingly. Paige didn't pay any mind to it and just rolled her eyes as she continued to gather up her things. "I don't think I've ever seen you like this over a girl before."

"Nothing is going on, K. (Y/n) isn't like that," Azzi said. Paige noticed a slight edge to Azzi's voice. She had noticed it before whenever KK made jokes about you and Paige fucking. Sometimes it was even directed at Paige, but Paige had been trying to pretend that she hadn't noticed it.

"Nah, there's no way that Paige is acting like this over a girl who doesn't put out," KK said. Azzi just tried to ignore KK and left, Paige hot on her trail.

"You really shouldn't let KK talk about (Y/n) like that. She's got a loud mouth, and it'll spread around the locker room. I don't think (Y/n) would appreciate everybody around campus and the internet talking about her like that." Azzi shoved past Paige after that, leaving the blonde a bit dumbfounded. She sent a quick text to KK about leaving your name out of her mouth before she set out towards your apartment.

Azzi's words echoed around in Paige's head. She had heard a couple of frat guys complain about you at parties before, but she hadn't really given it much mind. Now though, she wondered if you had actually ever been with someone sexually before. Paige hadn't taken someone's virginity in a couple of years, and the idea of taking yours kind of made her nervous. She didn't really think that she was special enough to deserve that, but then again, she didn't want to bring it up until you had put sex on the table.

The two of you were taking things slow. Paige understood your apprehension about her, especially with the way that girls had thrown themselves at her when the two of you went out for lunch together. Sometimes they'd have tact to back off once they noticed you hanging around, but most of them pretended that you weren't even there. Despite your insistence that it didn't bother you, Paige knew differently. She had noticed the way you'd be a bit less affectionate with her after these instances.

"Yeah, she's walking over now. Bye Az, I love you," you said as you hung up your phone. Paige looked absolutely trapped in her own head, and all you wanted to do was comfort her. "Hi Paigey."

"Hey baby," Paige greeted you with a quick kiss. She placed her hand on your back as she led you inside. Your apartment was on the bottom floor, which you were pretty grateful for in moments like this. Azzi's phone call hadn't been a very long one, but she had urged you to have the talk with Paige that you had been holding off on.

"So, Azzi called me. She's kind of mad at you," you told her. Paige groaned as she covered her face. You pulled her hands down and pressed a kiss to the corner of her mouth. "I didn't say that I was mad at you. It's not really your job to constantly defend me."

"Yeah, but it kind of should be. I mean, I'm your girlfriend, and KK just says stupid shit sometimes. Azzi reacts kind of harshly sometimes, but she has a point." Paige looked really down on herself, so you decided that this was as good of a time as any to rip the bandage off.

"Paige, she's only getting mad because she knows that it's not true. Obviously you know that we're not having sex, but I haven't had sex with anybody. I didn't tell you that before because I didn't want you to think that I was a prude or a loser," you admitted. You felt your nerves grow with each moment of silence between the two of you.

"I wouldn't think that about you at all. I like being around you. I like hanging out with you and doing all sorts of things I wouldn't with other people. We don't need to be having sex, and I don't mind waiting until you feel like you're ready for me. I'd be a pretty shitty girlfriend if I pressured you before you were ready, and I don't think I'd be able to honestly say I loved you if I did any of that."

"Y-you love me?" Paige went ghost white for a moment, afraid that she had overstepped. The look of relief that washed over her as you launched yourself into her arms seemed to bring her back to life. "I love you too!"

…

Something had definitely shifted between the two of you after that day. You weren't quite sure what it was, but you found yourself opening up a little more physically. Now, it was Paige who found herself pulling back between the two of you. At first, she had been very open with her willingness and want to sleep with you, and a small part of you wondered if maybe you shouldn't have told her that you were still a virgin.

"Shit!" Paige swore as she quickly turned around. Paige had asked to come over and take you out to lunch after her morning classes, so you told her to just come right in. You had woken up later than normal, and for the past 30 minutes or so, had been lounging around in your pajamas. You realized a little bit too late that Paige had never really seen you in any state of undress, so to see you in just a t-shirt and boxers was probably a bit of a shock for Paige.

"Paige, it's fine. This is what I sleep in. Don't tell me that you expected me to wear some Victorian nightgown like Scrooge," you teased. Paige cleared her throat as she slowly lowered her hands from her eyes. "Give me a couple minutes and I'll be ready to go."

"I can order in if you don't want to change. I'm sure that with food around, I'll be distracted enough to keep my hands to myself," Paige offered. You agreed to Paige's suggestion and secretly hoped that Paige wouldn't be able to keep her hands off of you.

"What if I wouldn't mind if you didn't?" you asked her. Paige's face went red at that.

"You don't mean that. You don't want me touching you," Paige said as she flopped back onto your couch. You crawled into her lap and started running your fingers through her hair.

"Yes I do. What's up with you, hmm? I've been trying to move things along without pushing, but you keep shoving me back. Is this because of what I told you?"

"You deserve better than some fuckboy like me. You're kind and sweet, and so fucking good that I don't know what to do with myself when I'm around you. I'd love nothing more than to bend you over the back of your couch sometimes and make you scream my name, but you deserve better than that. You deserve someone soft and sweet, and I don't know if I can do that," Paige confessed. You sighed as you twirled some of her baby hairs in the back around your fingers.

"But you are all of those things, you just don't realize it. You've been coming over for almost nine months every single week to spend time with me. You stopped going to parties because I didn't want to go. You buckled down and put more effort into your schoolwork because you noticed that my grades were slipping a little. You love me, and more than that, you put so much effort into caring for me in ways that you don't even notice. Paige, you're the best person that I've ever dated by a long shot, and I've never been so sure that I trust someone with my body more than you."

"I don't know what to say to all that," Paige mumbled. You could tell that she was getting sort of shy, so you leaned down and kissed her. "You really want to have sex with me?"

"Of course I do. I love you, and it definitely helps that you're the hottest girl I've ever met." Paige was smiling hard at your words, and it was like a switch was flipped for her. She pulled you in for a kiss, not pushing you back once even after you deepened it.

Paige moaned into the kiss as your tongue slipped past her lips. She was absolutely loving the taste of you and couldn't wait for more. Paige broke the kiss to begin trailing kisses along your jaw and down your neck. You were panting a little as you tried to catch your breath. The second that you had it back, Paige was right back at your lips kissing you again. This kiss was a little rougher than the one before, and it left your lips buzzing pleasantly.

"Do you want to do this right now?" Paige asked as her hands ran along the outside of your thighs.

"Yes, I'm sure. I've wanted this for a while now. I don't know what changed, but I know that I want you Paige in a way that I've never wanted anybody else before," you told her. Paige didn't need any more convincing after that. She picked you up in her arms and carried you back to your bedroom.

Paige gently laid you down on your bed, and both of you had the realization that she had never been in this room before. You watched as Paige took in as much of her surroundings as she could without disturbing the momentum the two of you were building. She pulled her shirt off, leaving her in a pair of basketball shorts and a sports bra.

You had seen pictures of Paige like that before, but never been around her like that. Paige seemed to sense your interest in her body, and flexed as she joined you on the bed. She grabbed your hand and placed it on her waist, allowing the tip of your thumb to brush against her abs a little.

"Do you have anything on under your shirt?" Paige asked as her fingers toyed with the hem of your shirt. In the two years that you had been at UConn, you had never been to a football game. You were sure that Paige had given you that shirt, as she somehow always ended up with so much free UConn merch as a prominent student athlete.

"No, but you can take it off anyway," you told her. Paige bit her lip as she pushed the fabric up your torso. Paige faltered a bit when she reached the top of your ribcage. You took the last little step for her, and Paige's attention zeroed in your breasts. "You can touch if you want."

Paige acted on instinct and took your breasts into her hands. She pressed kiss after kiss to your chest as her fingers began to tweak and tease your nipples. It as much further than anybody had gotten with you before, and you felt yourself grow embarrassingly wet at the simple gestures.

Slightly uncomfortable by the arousal pooling between your legs, you started to squeeze your thighs together for a little bit of relief. You had only recently began to try getting yourself off, and it was nothing compared to the way it felt as Paige's thigh slotted in between yours. Your head fell back with a gasp as you began to grind against her leg, no longer caring about feeling shameful about any of it.

"Relax baby, I'll take care of you. You deserve better than humping my leg," Paige told you. She placed her hands on your hips and pushed back a bit. You immediately whined at the loss of contact and stimulation, only to gasp when you felt Paige's hand between your legs. She cupped you over your boxers, just barely able to feel a little wet spot through the fabric. "I want you to know before I do this that it's not going to change anything between us. I'm still gonna be right here for you because I love you."

"Paige, I love you too, but please don't stall. I need you," you whined. Paige pulled the boxers down your legs and threw them behind her. She spread your lips open to reveal how wet you were. Paige knew that it had been a while since she had been with anybody, but she couldn't remember the last time a girl had gotten this wet for her.

"Fuck, you are so hot baby," Paige told you. You let out a little whine and pushed your hips forward, hopeful that she'd take the hint and keep going. Paige seemed to take mercy on you, and she let her fingers run through your folds. Her fingers moved with no resistance, stroking you gently before being replaced by her tongue.

"Paige!" you cried out loudly. There was no way that your neighbors weren't going to hear that. You didn't care though, not when you were being brought so close to what you swore had to be heaven. Paige seemed blissfully unaware of how close you were to cumming already as she just continued happily lapping at your cunt. Your fist balled up in the sheets as you let out a string of incoherent mumbles, hips rising and bucking against Paige's face. "Stop. Please stop, I can't…"

"Shit, my bad," Paige said as she let your legs snap shut in front of her. Paige sat up on her knees, looking at you with the proudest grin on her face that you thought you had ever seen. "So, um, I know this is a stupid question, but how was it?"

"I don't know what I expected, but it was better than that," you told her. Paige let out a sigh of relief as she moved to sit next to you. "Do you think that you could order that food now please?"

"Oh yeah, of course. And, um, I'm gonna go run and grab you something to drink. If you want when I get back, we can take a shower together. Not because I want to stare at you or anything, just that I don't know how strong your legs are gonna be. I'm gonna shut up now because I don't think I'm making this sound any better."

"You're so sweet, Paige. Such a good girl-," you cradled Paige's face and pulled her in for a kiss, "-friend. Absolutely the best."

[glitter-stained]

Agreed! And personally when I say he should mess up, he should mess up greatly. This is probably because I'm starved for representation of abuse that doesn't portraits abusers as monsters evidently evil and full of ill intent, but I'm totally down for abusive Bruce Wayne. Yeah, sure, have the literal Batman berate and psychologically abuse his kids, neglect to address super important stuff in their background only for it to blow up in your face when they're confronted with it on the field, I'm even down for him to hurt his kids! As long as the narrative doesn't agree with it.

The thing is, with the narrative (and some takes from some very hardcore fans) is "this isn't actually abuse because you're missing key context". And then you look up and the context can be super complicated, with a whole lot of intense stuff going on, and it can be a very good explanation for what is happening, and it is still abuse. I think the issue is with the portrayal we usually have of it we see "abusive" as a personality trait, something really bad people do. It's safe, and comfortable, and it allows us to feel comfortable in our knowledge that because we're trying our best, we couldn't possibly accidentally become abusive. And on that ground, it's perfectly valid to refuse your childhood hero being some terrible monster who hits his kids! But the thing is, abuse isn't a personality trait, it's an action, and actions are extremely context dependent. If you're in an extremely high emotional situation, and trying to handle three different crises at once, and your child is being intrusive while you just need some space and you're mental ill and having an episode and you hit your child -that is still physical abuse. (And yeah, you can also abuse your adult children). And that means you have to acknowledge that it was abuse and it hurt them and you shouldn't have done it. What that doesn't mean is you have to define yourself as a horrible person and a failed parent.

The danger resides in two complementary courses of thinking that follow from these ideas :

1. abusers are awful and terrible. + i hurt my child, doing something that follows usual definitions of child abuse. + I know that there was a lot of context going on and I feel like it's not fair to define myself just based on that action while ignoring the context = I don't fit my conception of an abusive person because of the context = the context means that I wasn't abusive = the context justifies taking actions that would be usually characterized as abusive => chronicization of abuse.

2. abusers are awful and terrible. + my parent hurt me doing something that follows usual definitions of child abuse + I know that there was a lot of context going on and I feel like it's not fair to define my parent, whomst I love and consider good, just based on that action while ignoring the context = they don't fit my characterization of abusive parents because of the context = the context means they weren't abusive = the context justifies actions that would otherwise be characterized as abusive = I wasn't actually abused = child doesn't speak up /avoids potential help/remains in the unsafe situation.

These are called justificative thoughts! And of course, we get similar thoughts in bystanders who know there's a lot of context going on, know the abuser personally etc. (They also work with intimate partner violence and even murder!) Examples include the all time famous "but he loves me!", "it's not what it looks like, she was only trying to keep me safe", "but what if I'm not stern enough and he grows up and become a criminal? He'll get hurt worse in prison, I'm protecting him!" "He can't possibly be an abuser, he's so kind! He was so sweet when he supported me after my mother died!"

The thing with the "you know I'm only doing this to protect you" line is we often know it as a very vicious manipulation technique. But it's not always the case! It's not necessarily a lie. Punitive abuse isn't (necessarily) practiced for the pleasure of hurting the child, it's a parent trying to raise their child and believing that this is the best way to teach them. That's why it's so important to acknowledge that good intentions in abuse exist and they don't justify it! Whether or not someone is lying to you, manipulating you or not when telling you this isn't what matters most: it's that right now, they feel hurting you is an acceptable way to get to that result, and it's still abusive, and you don't have to accept it just because they mean well.

So yeah, I'm pissed off when dc does exactly that, brushes Bruce being abusive aside and justifies it time and time again instead of addressing the abuse. I think the reason I personally want abusive Batman rather than a huge retcon is that a hero, someone who does so much good and tries and fights so hard to protect what he loves, someone like that failing so bad at parenting and then learning and becoming better, would have been revolutionary growing up. Still would be today, honestly. We need to humanize abuse, because we're gonna feel empathy towards abusers whether we like it or not and we have to choose if we avoid the discomfort it causes by using that empathy to justify not acknowledging the abuse, or treat abusers as human people that are capable of learning, that are sensitive to context (internal and external) and that can be, on many other fronts, perfectly good people. Instead, dc feeds us heaps of justificative thoughts like it's their personal mission because THEY have the same thoughts and don't want to contend with batman being "a dirty evil abuser" but they also love their edginess and shock value too much to stop writing conflict the only way they know how. And like, I know they're not gonna address it the way I want them to but then at least stop doing it- straight up stop portraying batman as abusive and justifying past abusive actions - and bury it under enough new, better batman/batfam stories that we can put this behind us as some kind of "edgy batman dark age". At this point that's all I'm asking, my expectations are so low but come on. I'm so tired.

The thing is that DC’s consistent choice to have Jason Todd blame himself for his own murder comes across less as maturity (the intent) and more like his self-esteem is so far down the toilet it’s been filtered through the Gotham water treatment facility and is currently being sprayed over Wayne Manor’s lawn.

[fairandfatalasfair]

One of the things I'm missing the most when I think about not getting a season 2 (and, by the same token, one of the things I love seeing in fanfic) is getting to see more of Crystal and Edwin growing into a relationship.

I think their back-and-forth would start to be a real point of entertainment for both of them, still with sharp edges but with a thread of warmth underlying it that belies the snippy tones. I think Crystal would start to keep a mental list of all the things that she can tweak Edwin's tail about that will genuinely annoy him, but not cause any real harm (and a parallel list of things that aren't funny, that make him shut down for real or retreat into stiff formality or foist her off on Charles until he can get himself together.) I think they would slip effortlessly back and forth between snarking at each other and ganging up on the rest of the world (Charles and Niko excepted) while Charles watches with stars in his eyes.

I want to see them showing up for each other, defending each other with words and with magic and with the right piece of information at the right time. I want to see them looking to each other for honesty, because they both know how to be cruel when they have to, and sometimes you need someone to just tell you the truth. I want to see them both understanding what it's like to be someone who doesn't think of themself as kind, or likeable, or good, but is trying.

I have so much love for snarky characters who are kind and generous and caring, but not necessarily nice or comfortable. I adore the kind of complicated friendship where you know you can trust their kindness because you've seen them at their most ruthless. They make me crazy. They could be so good for each other. They are so good for each other. I want to see where it goes.

[flower-boi16]

Too Small To Care

So remember that one user who sent me an ask trying to explain why Stolitz isn't coercian? And also sent that same ask to other people? Well, after a lot of people pointed out to the user how Blitz is freqeuntly shown to be uncomfortable in the relationship they posted this:

In my original ask I was actually gonna have a full third section that detailed why using small background details like this to defend Stolitz isn't a good way to defend it but I cut it because the post was long enough already and I was getting tired.

Now I feel is the best time to address this. Helluva Boss uses a lot of small details to hint at Blitz having affection to Stolas, such as things like the text messages in Western Energy or the background shards in Apology Tour that the user is showing here, and there's also the nice things that are stated in Oops and the pictures in Ozzie's.

All of these are meant to hint at Blitz having affection towards Stolas and this user (and some other fans) use these details to defend Stolitz. The thing is....I do not give a shit about these details. Legit. I do not give a fuck about whatever blink and you'll miss it details you show me as evidince for this ship actually works.

And the reason for that is because everything these easily forgetable and missable details show are things that should been shown on screen. Stolas' nice things to Blitz? Should have been shown on screen. Blitz enjoying sex with Blitz? Should have been shown on screen. Blitz being in control? Should have been shown on screen (sure it's shown in Ozzie's but that's literally it).

I'm just gonna call this for it is; lazy. It's lazy writting to pack things like this in small easily missable background details when you SHOULD be commuinicating this stuff on screen with actual interactions between the two characters. And, even then, this is still laughable at best. So I guess we're just going to ignore all the other examples that were actually shown on screen of Blitz being uncomfortable around Stolas and disliking the relationship because of these small, easily missable background details?

Just because Blitz felt good around Stolas two times means that he didn't constantly feel uncomfortable around Stolas the other 98% of what we're shown on screen? Really???

Also that second picture doesn't even imply Blitz liked the relationship lmao it's just him making a cute face.

Sorry, but Stolitz is SA. You're not convincing me otherwise.

(Also, this goes without saying but. DO NOT ATTACK THE USER!!!!)

[bunnys-kisses]

hi bunny!!! can i submit a request for kevin magnussen? something like a mafia!au where he’s big and scary except for when he’s with reader?💞

kevin magnussen

cw: smut/pwp, mafia au, mafia boss!kevin, size difference/kink, doggy style, protective!kevin, reader doesn't know he's mafia, creepy men, mentions of blood and violence, body worship

thank you lovely anon for this idea! i know i usually get bakery submissions, but i do accept other ideas you might have! so this was a pleasant surprise in my inbox!

coming to copenhagen wasn't on your bucket list of dreams. while it was for some, you only took the job because the hours were better. and after a nasty break up only a few months prior, it felt like a good idea to be in another part of the globe. while you missed family, there was something about the unknown that made you pack your belongings (and cat) and head to denmark.

you knew living abroad would have its risks. they were put to rest when you met a tattooed gentleman with the kindest eyes. his name was kevin, kevin magnussen

kevin was an interesting man. you had met him after a blind date fell through and he was at a nearby table by himself. he was waiting for 'friends', but didn't mind spending some time with you. before his 'friends' arrived he ordered you some dessert for after your meal.

he also slipped you a business card and said, "if you need anything in this city, let me know." then smiled at you. the address on the card led to a mechanics shop and kevin told you he owned and "worked" here, but you never saw too many cars come through.

but any questions were met with smiles and promises. you felt a little safer in the city when you were kevin. you one time asked him, "it seems like everyone looks at you when we walk together. or maybe i'm just imagining things."

even though you became accustomed to the public transport of the city. kevin was more than happy to pick you up or drop you off even places like the grocery store. you didn't want to think about all the times he bought you groceries. one time he made you grab another pack of salmon and not to look at the cost. he told you that you can freeze it for a few months. your throat tightened when you saw the price at the check out. but kevin simply paid without a second glance.

maybe you were used to people in your country being paid pennies. you chalked everything up to better wages in denmark.

  “you don't have to pay for things, kevin! really, this job i do pays well enough.” you held onto the front of his zip-up jacket as he carried your groceries back to your apartment. you still didn't know what he saw in you. but, if you couldn't give him the money back, then you'd simply have to keep him smiling. not that it was hard, even your worst jokes made him laugh and wrap his arms around you.

kevin seemed weird, but you found it endearing. when he was all smiles with you, in front of the family he was serious. he could be cold, methodic, dangerous. the light that he brought into your world were the same as the shadows he put into the underbelly of the city. people looked when you went down the street, because it wasn't very often to see him out on the streets. especially with someone so…. cute. 

but, there was something that lingered inside of the danish man you met. kevin saw it with his own two eyes when he entered the bar to meet with you one night. he saw a man at your table trying to chat you up. even with your back turned to kevin, he knew you were uncomfortable. nobody liked unwanted sexual advances.

but you weren't budging giving this man an inch, instead waving him off and eventually he took the cue to leave. but not before he touched you at the small of your back which made you lean away from him in disgust.

kevin saw your mouth move and then take a sip of your drink. at least kevin knew that you could stand up for yourself a little bit. at least enough to get this creep to go away.

eventually he did and when he walked away, kevin followed. no one was touching his girl. you were your own woman of course, you did as you pleased with kevin's support. but, most of the city should've know by now. you were under magnussen protection.

you were too occupied with your drink when the man left for you to notice that kevin had saw the entire thing. and instead of meeting you at your table, he followed the man in the washroom.

kevin wasn't the mechanic he told you he was. the tattoos weren't just from the lifestyle of fixing cars. they all meant something, his past, present and future. his family. his life. the head of an important family in the country. he rolled up his sleeves and the man who was flirting with you noticed him.

"almost done, man." he said as he turned off the tap and shook his hands to dry them. kevin crossed the small bathroom and instantly his fist was in the other man's face. causing him to sprawl out on the tiled floor of the bathroom.

kevin got on one knee down to the other man's level. he grabbed him by the front of the shirt and said, "don't, don't, don't yell." he pulled the bloodied man a little closer, his nose obviously broken, "you're going to leave this place. and you're not going to come back. you do not touch a woman without her permission."

"but i-"

"shh, shh, shh. i saw what you clipped to the back of her pants. a tracker? gps? going to follow her home? kidnap her? sell her? answer me." his voice was firm.

the man looked shaken and bleeding, he was trembling like a leaf at the end of fall. kevin was dangerously close, but didn't want to get blood all over himself. he didn't want you to worry.

"keep yourself out of here. if you don't. not even your dental records will be able to identify you. and if you want a date so badly, stop being a fucking creep." then dropped the man and got up.

the man nodded before he propped himself up against the bottom of the sink. he wiped his bleeding nose and before he could get a word in, kevin was gone.

"min elskede!" kevin's words could be heard and made you look over. you perked up a little bit as your boyfriend sat across from you. you were all smiles now in his presence.

"what happened to your hand?" you asked as you carefully took his hand in yours. you examined the red across his knuckle.

kevin rubbed the top of your head with his other hand, "oh, nothing. i wasn't looking at got it right at the corner of a door. you can kiss it if you want?"

you giggled a little then brought his knuckle to your lips, "what would you do without me, kevin?"

"oh, i don't know. i'd be lost." he smiled back at you.

-

back at your apartment, you were trying to get your socks off. they had little flowers printed on them and were a lovely pair. but it was hard with kevin's lips on your skin.

you squirmed a little and broke the kiss, "please, honey. let me get my clothes off." then burst into giggles when his lips got onto your neck. you ran your fingers through his hair and laughed.

"i can't help it, you're so beautiful." he admitted before he managed to pry himself away from you to let you get undressed. as he undid his button up shirt, he watched you struggle to get out of your jeans and chuckled softly to himself. beautiful little thing you were.

"oh shush." you said as you slipped off your panties, feeling kevin's eyes on you, "i'm alright looking. nothing to write home about."

he took you and pulled him to your chest. he kept those strong arms around you, as if he didn't punch a guy in the face earlier that evening. but, that was simply a part of his life. he had a punch that could kill, but with you. he was so sweet.

eventually you wiggled out of his grasp and got yourself in a further state of undress. soon you naked body was exposed to him and you could feel his hungry gaze on you.

you said as you looked at him, "i'm not a piece of meat, honey."

he reached for you and pulled your naked body next to his. he kissed at your face with such love and said, "of course you're not. you're too important to be meat." then trailed kisses across your body.

you laughed, "oh, c'mon!" you squirmed a little bit and arched your back. your nails rubbed against his scalp. his hips shifted a little bit and his cock rubbed against your thigh.

he knew that if anyone in the family saw him in that moment, they'd think he was a totally different man. the mean boss of the family was reduced to getting head scratches while he worshiped your breasts with his lips.

he said sweet things against you, watching your squirm when his tongue touched your left nipple. he watched your reaction for a moment before he closed his eyes and started to really suck on it. leaving wet trails behind.

his large hands kneaded your breasts and he felt his back arch against you. you felt hot all over and you moaned a little louder. two lovers naked in bed together.

you ran your hands up and down his shoulders, you knew both arms were heavily tattooed. you moaned against his lips before he pulled away and moved away from you. he got you onto your elbows and knees with your ass in the air.

he groped your ass cheek a little bit as he stroked his cock a little bit before he got closer to you once more and rubbed his hard cock up against your slick pussy. he listened to your sweet noises which only excited him more when he slipped his cock in. the angle let him get quite deep inside of you.

"kev!" your back arched a little, "oh. wow! every time." you hit your fist against the bed for a moment. your back arched a little more and you held onto the covers under you.

kevin licked his lips as he kept both hands on you. he loved the feeling of your cunt around his cock. it was his little slice of heaven. all the money from being in the family was something, but to have your sweetness around him made everything feel so much better.

"you're so pretty." he said softly, "you are the most gorgeous thing i had ever laid eyes on. i think about you all day, how much i love you and care for you." he pressed his chest agaisnt your back, then kissed at the back of your shoulders as he rutted against you.

he could feel the pound of his heart as he continued to move against you. his breathing was heavy against your skin as you buried your face into the soft pillows. the pillows he bought for you because you talked so much about how they were just so soft. and you hated to admit that since sleeping with them, your sleeps have improved.

he watched you move a little bit and whine into the covers. you sounded so pretty as he rutted against you. he kissed your shoulders once more.

"please, kev. honey!" you whined.

"you're so beautiful, my love."

his movements continued and the heat in the room grew, especially between the two of you. you could feel the sweat of his chest on your back as he wrapped his arms around you. he kept you close to him as he picked up the pace.

he pushed your further into the bed and worked at your hips. his cock slipped in and out of you perfectly. you were a dream around his cock. the creaking of the bed under you as the two of you made love under the low light of your bedroom.

it was comfortable, it wasn't painful in every way. and it was so good to feel your lover so closely. you panted heavily into the pillows and clutched it tightly. your noises were muffled as he moved. he pressed further into you and knew he wasn't going to last long.

a man capable of such violence was so docile around you. he wanted you so badly. he needed you more than he needed almost anything. his heart sang for you, and when he was away he tried to get home to you as soon as possible.

the dangerous life was common for him, but he didn't want to scare you off. if you knew the truth, would you hate him? would you run away or to the police? would you leave kevin?

he loved you so much, the idea of losing you made him almost scared. he pressed into you as much as he could and fucked you with heavy thrusts. he heard you pant heavily into the covers as he felt the pleasure in his brain.

you whined more as you felt orgasm hit you like a train. you said to your lover, "please, kevin. i love you."

he kissed your cheek and said, "good. because i love you too." then gave a few more thrusts before he finished inside of you with one final movement of his hips. he came with a groan before he slowed to a stop. he rested his face against your shoulder and just let himself feel you for a moment.

"i love you so much." you groaned.

kevin slipped out of you and laid out beside you. you laid next to him and let him wrap himself up around you. like a protective blanket. he pressed soft kisses against you and melted against your heated skin.

he said with his voice close to your ear, "i promise to protect you forever." then kissed the shell of your ear, "all of my days and all of my nights."

you giggled and turned in his arms, "sounds like you're trying to propose to me." your cheeks warmed at the thought.

he smiled down at you, "maybe, but i'll need a ring first." maybe he'll slowly let you into his world. to be closer to him than ever. he wanted you for a lifetime, to love you was an honour as he kept you in his arms while you both calmed down from your climaxes, "it's a secret for now." he said, "have to give you a little surprise."

you buried your face in his chest and giggled, "oh my god, kevin!" you squirmed a little bit on the bed, "you don't need to propose! really! i'm fine being your girlfriend." the idea of marriage made your cheeks hot!

he held your back and smiled into your hair, "even if it is just a ring, you deserve something nice. and if it is pretty enough then no idiot men at the bar will try to make you uncomfortable." he thought about the tracker he took off of you. being married to you was the end goal, but to protect you was a constant in his mind.

he kissed you, tomorrow he'll go ring shopping before his meetings. it'll be a hard choice to pick the perfect ring, but only the best for you. <3

[alchemistc]

@liminalmemories21 - this isn't exactly what you asked for but:

Abby C. 8:51 PM: So how'd it go? With the talking?

Buck stares at the message. Stares at the milk frother sitting in his counter, and the candlesticks he'd really considered dropping off the side of his upper balcony, ten minutes ago. (He's a firefighter, he knows how that ends. But, like. Still)

Bad, he texts back. So bad. But he also won't give me my sweatshirt back and I know he has it. Any sage advice?

It's a little weird to be texting her. She'd been one of the first people he'd ever talked to consistently on the phone, and he'd grown to enjoy it, grown to appreciate that voice in his ear.

Abby texts back immediately: I'm not entirely sure I know what that means. He actually LIKED you.

Buck can feel the buzzing under his skin, the rush of adrenaline at remembering Tommy not only not denying he'd loved Buck, but admitting off-hand that he still did.

It means I'm getting my man back, Buck sends, and then stares at the slippers he can see poking out from the right side of the bed.

His phone rings.

"You know," Abby starts, before Buck can so much as greet her. "I spent a long time beating myself up for not seeing this as a sign, but that's not the point."

"What... is the point?"

Abby chuckles. She sounds good. Happy. Buck is far enough removed from it to feel glad for her, and jealous of her, and then he's rolling right back around to being fucking livid that Abby and Tommy had both run. Different reasons, same result. A first of Buck's that'd just walked away.

"He used to watch movies with my mom constantly. All the terrible schlock that I couldn't stand - Hallmark movies, and D-Lister rom coms, all those trite based on true events Lifetime shows."

Buck nods. Waits for her to continue.

She doesn't.

"I'm not picking up what you're dropping down."

"He and my mom would just critique them all the way through. Just tear them to shreds. What was unrealistic, what was just plain stupid. She - mom was never more lucid than when she and Tommy were bemoaning the lack of reality in those movies."

"Listen, I already know asking him to move in with me was a dumb idea. I'm the himbo, remember?"

Abby pauses. "...that's what he called you?"

"Apparently all your mutual friends did."

Abby sighs. "The point is, Buck. They liked watching them because they liked talking about what real relationships were actually like. What happened after a curtain close kiss, how much a couple was gonna fight over the financial sustainability of a Christmas themed donut shop, what the fiance that got left behind in the big city was gonna do now that they were finally free of the person who'd spent the holiday season losing their entire brains. Tommy's a realist. He wants to be stopped before he gets on the plane, but he wants to be stopped because you already have a ten step plan to make things work. And he's terrified of giving too much of himself away to someone who thinks he shits rainbows and puppies and hasn't reckoned with the fact that he's just as screwed up as the rest of us."

"You swear more than I remember."

Abby laughs. " But you see my point?"

Buck doesn't want to. But he does. "Well, I definitely don't think he's perfect anymore."

"And you still love him." She says it like she knows. She says it like she'd once expected to spend a life with Tommy Kinard.

"And I still love him," Buck acknowledges, and they both drift into silence. It's comfortable. Easy. He sort of misses being able to talk to her about shit like this.

"Call me if you need anything, Buck."

Buck hangs up the phone with a million new, vaguely more hopeful thoughts swirling around in his brain.

Twenty minutes later he texts her one more time: This is the only sex thing you're getting from me - that thing he does with your nipples? What the fuck?

Abby C. 9:22 PM: I taught him that. You're welcome.

Tommy ignores the knock at his door. He's in day three pajamas and the only person who might make the effort to check in on him is his exes best friend. Which.

The knocking continues.

It's getting louder.

There's a Kings game on in the background and he's been elbow deep in the Jeep manual he'd finally cracked open in some sort of weird, fucked up pattern of mourning.

Tommy's never gonna buy a fucking Jeep. He hates them. You own one for more than five years and more than half the parts are replacement parts.

He's been staring at a diagram of the timing belt for half an hour, at least. The last thing he remembers about the game is Kuemper letting in three goals on five shots and somehow the Kings are up two, now, and there's still 25 minutes of game time left.

Tommy reaches for the remote. Turns the volume up.

The knocking returns less than a minute later.

---

There's a box of odds and ends tucked under the table in his entryway. He avoids looking at it. He knows there are a few things missing from it and he really doesn't want to examine what he'll have to do to avoid giving it to Eddie tonight. He cut the cords, he shouldn't be lingering watching the frayed edges sway in the wind, clutching his line like there's anything braced on the other side of it.

Evan's oldest, softest LAFD hoodie, the one that's technically too small for both of them but has stretched shockingly evenly and is definitely not sitting unwashed at the bottom of Tommy's laundry basket. The program from a recital of Denny's they'd stopped by to support him for, on their way out of town for a long weekend. Evan's stupid keto bread and the milk frother he'd left behind three months ago and never bothered to grab because he had more than one.

Whoever is at his door is still fucking knocking, and suddenly Tommy doesn't feel like being polite. He'll shove the box in Eddie's arms and tell him to fuck off and close the last few remaining open doors he has to this.

Only when he swings the door wide it's not Eddie on the other side, and the box nearly takes out whatever Evan - Buck, Jesus Christ - has in his own arms.

Not a Tommy box - too small for all the shit that he'd left behind. He misses the house slippers that had had a permanent spot tucked under the left side of the bed.

Tommy flinches, reels away, tries to shove the box away before Buck can see its contents.

"What are you doing here?" Even tone. No quiver in his voice. He's been called rude and dismissive for less.

Buck scowls. Hefts the rectangular dish in his hands and shoves past Tommy before Tommy can blink.

It's silly to say he chases after him, down the hallway towards the kitchen, but he's not exactly following along behind at a casual leisurely pace.

The glass pan slams down on his kitchen counter and Buck spends a minute staring at the calendar he was only getting two months out of because he couldn't look at the one with all Buck's notes penned in anymore.

"Wow," Buck says, and shifts his weight awkwardly.

"What are you -?"

"Jee and I made you birthday cupcakes," Buck says. His voice is hard. Angry. Hurt. "Happy birthday, asshole."

---

He cracks the lid and there are only three cupcakes inside. Tommy forgets himself. Raises a brow, amusement rolling over him pleasantly, prepared to tease him, but then he catches the set of Buck's legs and the curl of his mouth and the tight way his arm tucks itself back in against his belly, a protective gesture that reminds Tommy very effectively what this is.

"Why?" Tommy wonders aloud, and Evan's scowl deepens.

Buck's scowl.

God.

"We've been planning it for weeks." Something flashes across his eyes before he schools his features. "Jee made me promise to bring you some."

"She must not be a skilled baker," Tommy jokes. "If these are the only ones that made it."

Evan's expression twists. "I ate most of them."

The frosting looks fresh. No creases in the paper cup holding them together.

"I had to make a new batch of frosting because I used some of it for -." He cuts himself off. Looks like he'd like to throw it in Tommy's face but can't quite force himself to hurt Tommy.

It hurts as much as he'd expected, anyway.

The world is a small place. It's not the first time he's had to speak to an ex when he didn't want to. It's never pleasant.

This is worse. The cut and run is supposed to give him time.

Evan Buckley has been an ache behind his ribcage for months, now, long before he'd made that final decision. He'd known it was too little too late. Buck's gonna be the shadow other men see behind his eyes for years.

Buck's apparently found and slept with someone within the week and a half span from Tommy walking out to his sad shitty mopey birthday.

That he'd forgotten about.

Tommy leans in. Picks up a cupcake. Licks a stripe through the frosting and makes a face when he realizes it's buttercream.

"The ones you were supposed to get had the whipped cream one you like," Buck says, accusingly.

That somehow stings just a little bit extra.

Tommy pulls back the paper, takes a bite. There's raspberry filling inside, and Tommy can feel tears prickling at the edges of his eyes, because when he'd told Evan about how his grandma baked he'd been thinking of Evan being a grandparent, the kind of shit he'd forbidden himself from imagining with anyone he was dating years ago.

"Thank you," he manages, and Buck frowns.

"He thought the whipped cream was too sweet." And Tommy probably deserves this but he's not particularly in the mood.

"Cut it out, Buck."

Buck rolls his jaw. "I just figured you'd wanna know how it's going. Maybe I could tally up the hookups for you, count them all up by gender and stamina and opinions on how I should feel and act and fall for someone. Find out if I'm actually gay enough to be a man's last."

---

The rest of the cupcake kind of collapses and oozes as Tommy smacks it down on the counter. He takes thirty seconds to pull the other two cupcakes out before he's grabbing the too-large fake Pyrex and turning heel. The keto bread goes in the pan. Then the milk frother.

Tommy yanks the recital program off the fridge and tosses it in the trash.

Buck almost looks triumphant.

"The box under the side table has the rest. You can see yourself out."

He actually does exactly as he's told, and Tommy listens to his footsteps drift off, shoulders hunched in and the breath tight in his throat. He'd been cruel, it was only fair Buck got a few final kicks in.

Tommy sucks in a breath and blinks away the moisture at the edges of his vision.

The footsteps take a heel turn at the side table and turn right back around.

"This isn't everything."

Tommy half expects some panned comment about how Tommy's got his heart - the kind of silly shit he'd say to a dead outlaw.

"My sweatshirt," Buck says, and Tommy freezes.

He could lie. He could pretend he had no idea where it was. Claim he didn't remember it even being here, because that particular piece of clothing did have a tendency to travel.

He doesn't fucking want to hand that one over.

Buck smirks, like he's caught the crack, and is looking for ways to exploit it.

"I own my own house!" Tommy says, and it's a terrible launching point but Buck latches on.

"You just left, Tommy! I know I jumped the gun, Tommy, but you didn't even - you just left! I'm sorry, okay. I'm sorry I didn't know I was into men until you. I'm sorry you had to be my first, I'm sure that must have been such a burden for you."

"That's not fair."

"You didn't even give me a chance. That was - I'm so angry with you, Tommy. I'm so fucking mad."

"I know."

"But that's what you planned for, right? That's - you ripped the bandaid, Tommy, except there's a whole fucking untreated stab wound right underneath and it's still bleeding, Tommy."

"Did you even make this round of cupcakes with your niece?" It's better to keep his family's names out of his mouth. Just keep those ties cut.

Buck looks livid. "No, you idiot, I whipped up a tiny batch of this recipe just for the excuse to see you and - and tell you what a stupid, awful coward you are."

"That's not f-." He isn't sure whether Buck is being facetious about the small batch thing or not. He doesn't have any time to think about it.

"My sister and Chim are having another baby. Bobby and Athena are probably gonna host Christmas this year. Eddie shaved off the mustache and he's, like, dancing now, I guess. Hen and Karen are good for the first time in -." He shakes his head. Stares at Tommy. Tommy can't quite hide from that gaze. "We were good, Tommy. We were - you loved me."

He'd never said the words. Neither had Evan, but they'd both known. Both felt it. Tommy let it go too far, did it scared for longer than he usually would.

"It's not like that just went away when I walked out, Evan," Tommy hisses, and then regrets it immediately.

Evan has spent most of this visit pushing, pressing, digging fingers into the wound to make it hurt.

Evan goes silent now, reeling back a little. He seems shocked that Tommy had admitted it.

"I want you to go," Tommy says. "I need you to go, Buck."

It was the right dagger the first time, but apparently it's only effective once.

"I love you too, you know." His voice is soft. Tommy can't meet his eye. "And I hate you. I hate you even though I know that's what you wanted but I love you too much to not hate you out of spite."

Tommy knows if he caves it's done. He's signing himself over to whatever fucked thing will end them a week, a month, five years, two decades from now.

"Go home, Buck. Hate me there."

---

He goes in for the kill.

"I called Abby, two nights ago."

Right for the jugular. No survivors.

"She laughed for like twenty minutes, and then she tried to get me to chat about our sex life for comparison, and then she was shocked silent for a full minute when I wouldn't." Because Evan had always been a little too open about those details. "She also told me she forgave you but she doesn't think you ever forgave yourself."

Tommy agrees. For all that they'd been terrible for each other, they'd known how the hell to take care of one another like no one's business.

"I want you to go," Tommy says, steady, quiet, nearly a snark for how deep his voice goes to hide the tremor in it.

Buck cocks a hip against the doorframe. "I want my sweatshirt."

The breath that escapes him is shaky, but her think he hides most of it behind the hand over his face, the finger pinched at the bridge of his nose.

"I can't do this."

"Exactly how many men and women do I have to fuck before you believe the future I'm looking at is with you?"

"All of them! None! It was a stupid thing to say and it's not what I meant and I can't do this."

Buck spins on his heel. Grabs the box he'd set aside and hefts it up into his arms. "I'm coming back for my sweatshirt," he says. "You let me know whether you want to talk about the data points of the sexuality spreadsheet or about us."

"There is no us, Buck." His voice sounds defeated even to himself.

"If that was true you'd just give me the stupid sweater and be done."

Tommy sits in silence. He does not get up to retrieve the hoodie. Buck is still angry, but his smile is wide and bashful.

Tommy listens to his footsteps trail down the hall, towards the door, out of it. He hears the Jeep's ignition catch, the wheels roll off the drive.

He realizes he'd left the goddamn Jeep manual open on the timing belt page, right there on his side table where he'd pointed out the things he wanted Evan to take to clear him from his life.

---

There is someone knocking at his door.

Tommy doesn't quite ignore it.

He hid the sweatshirt in one of his toolbox drawers when Evan texted him this morning to let him know he'd be over with a six pack and a pot of chili.

There's a zero percent chance Evan's getting that sweatshirt back, tonight.

[thezombieprostitute]

What's Mine

Summary: Bucky pushes you too far and decides to explain how your situation works. Or doesn't.

Word Count: ~2.3 k

Warnings: Dark Fic, Implied dub/non con, Power imbalance. Please let me know if I missed any.

Previous Part

It's been a few months since Bucky "claimed" you. He followed up on his promises of taking care of you. You frequently woke up to some surprise gift or another. One day it was a fully stocked kitchen. Another day it was the leak in the bathroom sink getting fixed. More than a few times it's been jewelry with his initials on it.

And all it cost was letting him use you. You swear a piece of your soul dies every time he makes you cum. Every time he coats you in his semen. Every time you match his fervor. It might not be so bad if he didn't gloat every time. That damn smirk haunted your dreams. Or was it nightmares? What was the difference anymore?

It had definitely affected your standing in the community. People were scared to interact with you. Fewer parents brought their kids to the library when you were there. Ruth and her friends had no problems calling you all sorts of degrading things under their breath. You definitely caught them giving you the evil eye more than a few times.

Part of you suspected that if you'd quit trying to fight him he'd lose interest. He liked when you were in a fiery mood. If you could just give in, give up, he'd likely stop using you. But you couldn't help yourself. You hated him. You hated yourself for enjoying the pleasure he gave. That hate needed an outlet.

You pull into your driveway, no longer surprised to see Bucky's bike there as well. You sigh, wondering if you can talk him into to leaving. You're exhausted. Walking into the house you don't even have a chance to take your jacket off before Bucky is on you.

"Bucky, please no. I'm just too tired."

He chuckles, "don't worry. I'm just really happy to see you. We're going out tonight."

You sigh, "I'd rather stay in."

"Then that means you have the energy for me all night."

"Ugh, fine. Where are we going?"

"I've got you an appointment at the tattoo parlor."

"WHAT?! I hate tattoos! I can't get any!"

He smiles as he growls at you, "you're going to get a tattoo just for me. No one else is going to be able to see it, but we'll know it's there."

"Isn't the jewelry enough of your 'ownership'? You even got me a brooch for my cardigans with your initials!"

Bucky licks his lips, "it was just the beginning, Doll. So far everything I've done to mark you are things that can wash away or heal up. This is the next step."

"I refuse," you declare, crossing your arms.

"Fuck, Doll, you're getting me riled up." He puts his arms on each side of your head, boxing you in against the wall. "And you're getting that damn tattoo. We can either go now, while you're still cleaned up, or after I've fucked your brains out and you're a cum covered mess."

"Fine," you drop your head. "Let's go to the tattoo parlor."

"Not yet." He grabs you chin and makes your look at him. "You need to thank me, first, Doll."

Bile rises at the back of your throat. "Thank you for letting me preserve my dignity."

He laughs. "Give me another," he taunts, using the same voice as when he's telling you to give him another orgasm. You hate yourself for the involuntarily clench your pussy does.

"Thank you, Bucky, for...for introducing me to Bunny. It is nice to have a friend." A friend who understands how fucked you both are, you think.

That gets a more sincere smile on his face. "It is important to me that you know my best friend and his girl. I'm glad you're good to them. Bunny is gonna need you when she's pregnant."

"What are friends for," you dryly reply.

"That's my good girl, Doll."

The tattoo is pretty much what you expected. His initials, right over your heart. If you wore anything low cut, it would be obvious. You were sure that was the point: can't even show a hint of skin without reminding everyone who it actually belongs to. At least it wouldn't be a problem at work, given you always dress conservatively.

By the time you're home Bucky is practically salivating at the memory of the tattoo on your chest. He might be eager to see this permanent mark of his claim on you but at least he's willing to follow instructions for proper care so it doesn't scar or make you sick. You made sure to thank him for that, knowing he likes to hear it, and he reiterates, "I take care of what's mine."

"Any chance I can just get some sleep tonight? I wasn't lying when I said I was tired."

"I'm all worked up, Doll."

"I thought you take care of what's yours," you snap back. "How is keeping me awake, not letting get good sleep, taking care of me?"

He grips your chin and gives you a thoughtful look. "I suppose you're right," he admits. "Even a vibrator's batteries gotta recharge every so often, right?" You roll your eyes and he grins. "But I'm going to hold you all night and when you wake up, it's on. I know you don't work tomorrow."

"Is that why you helped with my budget? So I'd have more free time to be your personal toy?" You can't fight the fire in your voice. You're tired, yes. Tired of being so angry all the time.

"Aww, you admit you're mine," he teases.

Unable to hold back any longer you smack his face. "I have never been so angry or tired as I have been since you showed up. You want to take care of me? You want me to be yours? Treat me like a fucking person!" Tears are pouring out of your eyes, the stress and frustration of the months finally finding a kind of release.

Bucky glowers at you and grabs your throat with his metal arm. "You shouldn't have done that, Doll."

"I don't care anymore," you croak.

That seems to catch him off guard as his hand loosens and his face softens.

"Oh, Doll," he shakes his head. "You really should've said something sooner." You squeeze your eyes shut as more tears start falling. He removes his hand from your throat and brings you in for a hug, causing you to cry even more. He pats your hair and coos, "there, there," until you can't cry any more.

"Let's get you to bed," he says quietly.

"I...I don't...I don't understand."

He gently lifts your chin, "you know, before Bunny ran, I tried to warn Steve he was being too controlling. That she was going to bolt. He didn't listen and, sure enough, she escaped. Wouldn't surprise me if she continued to try because he hasn't learned to loosen his grip. I don't plan on repeating his mistakes. Yes, you're mine and you'll never be rid of me. But that doesn't mean I can't be benevolent."

You sniffle as your brain tries to comprehend the sudden change in his demeanor.

"Now lets make sure that tattoo is properly cared for," he says with a soft kiss to your forehead.

"I...I hit you," you stammer.

"You're over-stressed and tired," he shrugs. "If I thought you were doing it just because you wanted to hurt me, yes, there would be repercussions. But I've apparently been overworking my poor Doll, so I'll forgive that one smack." His tone at that last part implies any more attempts to lash out at him will be punished.

"Thank you, Bucky," you murmur as you hang your head.

"Mmmm. That's more like it. Now let's get you to bed and tomorrow we'll work on your communication skills."

You wake up feeling like you're hungover without having had any alcohol. The delicious smells of breakfast lure you out of the bed, even though you dread meeting the cook.

Bucky's shirtless and smiling as he works. If you were in anything close to a healthy relationship you'd smile at how happy he is. Instead you keep your head down, trying not to think about that metal hand wrapped around your neck. About how those muscles feel pressed against your back, or on top of you.

He sees you and gestures for you to sit at the table. He brings you a plate of breakfast, a mug of coffee and kisses the top of your head before sitting across from you. You don't eat right away like he does, lost in your confusion about this change in behavior.

"Eat, Doll," he orders. "I didn't stock your kitchen and cook this up just for you to let it go cold."

"What is going on?" your voice is barely above a whisper.

"I'm taking care of my girl," he answers, nonchalantly. You look at him like you've never seen him before and he sighs. "Eat, or I will force it down your throat."

You grab a slice of the toast and start chewing. "Thank you, Bucky," you grumble and he nods in his approval.

"One of the differences between me and Cap is that I know I'm a monster," he tells you between bites. "He likes to think we've done all of this to keep his girl safe and give her the life she always wanted. I know better. But we've been best friends since we were kids. Ride or die, you know? So I'm always going to have his back. I've just made peace with the fact that it means ruining lives."

"You never tried to talk him out of it? Out of taking over an entire town?"

He shakes his head. "Steve's the kind of guy who can never be talked or distracted from his goal. One of the things I find endearing about him."

"So, he gets you all to take over everything here and you, what? Enjoy the spoils?" Feeling the bile rise at the back of your throat, you go for another slice of toast to try to settle your stomach while keeping Bucky happy.

"It's a balance," he grins. "We take over and just start doing whatever the hell we want, a lot of people are going to die trying to get rid of us. So we set up some rules for our men. People will remain upset, of course, but they're less likely to 'rise up' so long as we have a level of restraint. It's, honestly, the biggest part of my job as Cap's second."

You think on this for a minute, mindlessly eating. "I get why the town, but why me?"

He shrugs, "I needed the stress relief. It ain't easy keeping a crew in line and I was initially just hoping for a quiet spot to read to calm down. Then I started watching you. Saw you expertly handle all kinds of difficulties. When you snapped at me, I figured, like me, you could use some stress relief."

"Stress relief?!" He gives you a look that has you clamming up.

"And fuck you were so good," he muses. "That first photo is still the background on my phone." Heat rushes to your face. "I decided to go ahead and keep you as mine. You're not only a good fuck, but you were quick to befriend Bunny. Everyone else who sees her with Cap has decided to avoid her. Something I know you've been experiencing, even though you haven't told me." You look down, unable to say anything. "I honestly thought you liked the rough treatment and was happy to give it, but I'm guessing we hit a limit for you."

"You branded me," you snarl.

"No, I got you a tattoo. Branding is something else and would've hurt you a lot more." His tone is stern and you return your attention to your food. "You've played a critical role in helping me keep things under control. Plus, since you're my girl, you get some privileges and protections. You think Steve would've beaten up Walker for some random librarian? No. But for his best friend's girl? That's another story."

"So, you're just going to keep using me?"

"Yes," he nods. "And now that I know more about your limits, I'm less likely to get stabbed in my sleep."

You look at him, aghast, "that's why you never stayed the night before?"

Bucky chuckles, "so smart. I love it. And now that you have more information, hopefully you're smart enough to put the rest of the pieces together."

"If I hurt you, Steve drops everything to find and kill me. Probably painfully." He nods. "If I make you angry, you're likely to take it out on someone who doesn't deserve it or you lose control of your men for long enough that they hurt someone who doesn't deserve it." He nods again, smiling at you. "And if I stop playing along like everything is okay, it's another sign to the townsfolk that might set them over the edge and have them shooting, getting hurt, or worse."

Bucky finishes his breakfast, nodding at your conclusions. "God, I love that you're so smart. Makes a lot of this so much easier." You start sniffling and he reaches across the table to gently grip your chin. "I get that this is a lot to take in, Doll. But I know you'll make the right decision. If you really didn't care about this town, you'd have left when you only had a skeleton budget. You're willing to work yourself to the bone to take care of these people, you're willing to be mine to keep them safe."

"I can't say 'no'," you whimper.

"But it doesn't have to be all bad. Remember, I take care of what's mine."

Previous Part

Tagging: @alicedopey; @delicatebarness; @icefrozendeadlyqueen; @lokislady82; @ronearoundblindly

[fuctacles]

<< 10 | - | 12 >>

Robin finds them sprawled on the grass, resting after their play break. Steve notices her first, his head raising and tail wagging excitedly, though he doesn't move from his spot warming Eddie's thigh. 

"Steve?" 

That's when his friend realizes what got him so excited and he waves to Robin as she spots them in the middle of the yard. Their eyes meet and he knows she's surprised to see Steve in his other form again, but she doesn't say anything. Their werewolf friend yips happily and stands up, away from Eddie's petting to greet his best friend. 

"Hello, Buckley."

"Hello, Munson." She puts her hands on her hips in a perfect mirror of Steve. "I see you two are hard at work?" Robin quickly folds when Steve sits at her feet, his tail moving so fast it is barely visible. She squats down to scratch around his ears. "Hi, dingus."

"Exactly, and we're taking a well-deserved break right now," Eddie says with a smile, sitting up. "The barbeque is out and cleaned up, and we're almost done with the pool and chairs," he sums up their work so far, pointing vaguely to where everything is. 

"Damn, it's like you don't need me at all, huh?" she asks mostly towards Steve with a tilt of her head. He nibs at her fingers in retaliation before trotting away. "Hey, I was joking!"

But Steve picks up the ball still lying next to Eddie's leg and brings it back to Robin. She looks at him in confusion, so Eddie quickly swoops in with an explanation.

"We were playing fetch!"

The yellow, damp ball falls away from Steve's mouth like he might have just gotten self-conscious about the thing. But Robin takes it in stride, grabbing the toy and straightening up. Her friend quickly forgets his inhibitions and straightens up, hyperfocused on her raised hand. 

"Fair warning, I'm not the best thrower. But I guess I can't be much worse than Munson."

"Hey!"

She proves her words seconds later when the ball barely misses his head and Steve jumps right over his body, making him yelp. 

"Jesus H Christ you two!" he yells at them, but is genuinely happy for his friend enjoying his dog form without second guessing himself. 

He idly picks at the grass, observing them and dodging Buckley's shitty aim, wondering how he would feel if he could shift to a creature loved by everyone and with simple needs and ways to express himself. It sounds freeing, but he likes too many things his opposable thumbs can do, like playing the guitar, petting a dog, or playing fetch. 

Does Steve have things he needs his thumbs for? Is he still playing basketball? Maybe Eddie could teach him the guitar. Or Maybe Steve just needs a healthy balance between human and animal treatment. 

Eddie is so preoccupied with his thoughts, that the next ball Buckley throws boinks right off the side of his head. 

Steve skids to a stop in front of him, eyeing the skittering ball like prey, but in the end, jumps up to Eddie and starts licking at the sore spot, while Buckley yells her apologies in the background. 

"Okay, okay, I'll live! It's just a flesh wound!" he laughs, while Steve's hot tongue is ruining his already questionable fringe. The dog boops his cheek with a cold nose and goes to pick up the ball. Eddie takes it as his clue to stand up and fix himself up a bit.

"It pains me to say it, but I guess it's our sign to get back to work," he sighs, dusting off his knees. Steve shows up next to him, eyes huge and the ball between his teeth. "Nuh-uh, man, we can play more later. We gotta finish the yard today so we only have the food to worry about tomorrow."

Steve huffs, the ball falling from his mouth with a sad thump, but he walks away towards the house, bumping Robin's leg on his way to the back door. While he disappears inside, Eddie jogs up to her. 

"Hey," he says again. "I'm trying to help Steve out of his funk." 

Robin raises her eyebrows. 

"How?" she crosses her arms. 

He suddenly feels uneasy, shifting his weight while trying to give his theories and plans shape. There's no one better to talk it out with than Stev's best friend, so he pushes through. 

"Well, he likes how we treat the dog-him, so I think we should treat him more like that on a daily basis. You know, scratches, praises, and shit," he looks up at Buckley hoping he doesn't sound completely insane. "So he likes being human a bit more."

She hums, glancing back at the house.

"You're right," Robin says to his surprise. It's not something he hears often. "Though I think it works best with you."

"What do you mean?" he asks with a frown. 

But she waves him off, turning to where Steve is emerging through the back door wearing loose sweatpants and with his hairy chest on display. 

"Robs!" he greets his friend with a grin, gathering her for a side hug that quickly turns into a friendly chokehold. 

Eddie hopes Buckley can sense his menacing glare despite their roughhousing.

Tags: @noodle-shenaniganery @jaytriesstrangerthings @imaginary-maggie-waggie @samsoble @croatoan-like-its-hot

@dragonmama76 @storyranger @scoops-aboy86 @ollyxar @estrellami-1

@stevesworldxx @ajeff855 @live-laugh-love-dietrich @thelittleclare @wheneverfeasible

[butlervibesonly]

𝑆𝑤𝑒𝑒𝑡 ℎ𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑔 || Austin Butler

• Summary : Austin had a rough day filming, and Y/n wants him to feel better as he comes home. Dinner, and, welp, a hot bath that isn't just a hot bath...

• Pairing : Austin Butler x female! reader

• Warnings : fluff, kisses and little bit of spiciness by the end...

• Note : I wish, and I'm repeating, I wish, I could write spicy scenes and the more I wish is to be able to finish them (forgive me) 😭🥲

Being an actor is surely amazing thing. Although it could be also very exhausting, and it can be rough. And that's Austin's case. He texted you more than once saying how much he was looking forward to going home, that he had had a hard day and was tired.

After a grueling day on set, he finally steps through the door, exhaustion visible in his eyes and in the heavy slump of his shoulders. The moment Austin walks in, though, he’s greeted by the warm, savory aroma of his favorite food drifting from the kitchen.

“Hey, babe, I'm home,” he calls out softly, and you peek around the corner, giving him a warm smile. You can see just how drained he is, and without a word, you walk over and wrap your arms around him, pulling him into a tight hug. Austin lets out a sigh, resting his head against yours, clinging to you as if you’re the only thing keeping him grounded.

“I made your favorite,” you say softly, giving him a little smile. “I thought you might need a good meal after today.” His eyes soften, and he leans down to press a grateful kiss against your lips. And woah, how much he missed those lips. “You have no idea how much I needed this.”

You guide him to the table, where you’ve already set up everything—candles, his favorite dish, and even a little dessert. As Austin sits down, he looks around, visibly touched by the thought and care you’ve put into making this night special. You serve him, and as he takes his first bite, he lets out a satisfied hum, his eyes meeting yours with a grateful, softened expression.

"This. Is. Frickin'. Delicious." Austin said every word in the way to make you know this was what he craved for. "You're the best cook I know," he says, continuing to eat his food. "Well, thank you, dreamboat." you chuckle.

After dinner, you reach for Austin's hand, pulling him gently toward the bathroom. “I have one more surprise,” you say with a playful smile. He raises an eyebrow, curious, but lets you lead him inside, where you’ve already prepared a warm bubble bath. The room is softly lit with candles, the bath filled with bubbles and infused with his favorite soothing scents. He stares in awe for a second, then looks at you, clearly moved.

“I can’t believe you did all this…for me,” he says, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he pulls you in for another hug. “Of course I did,” you murmur, brushing a hand through his hair. “You do so much every day, and I just want you to relax tonight.”

He squeezes your hand and when he noticed that you actually also added rose petals, he can't help but laugh. "Do you know you should be the one who deserves such a romantic bath?" Austin jokes, making you smile. "You mean a rough man like you doesn't deserve a little tenderness?"

Austin laughs back at your humor, and starts to take off his clothes. As much as you fight the urge, you still watch his muscular body. He gets in, comfortable in the warm water, closes his eyes, the tension in his shoulders finally easing. "Wait a second," you managed to speak again, leaving him in the bathroom.

As you come back, you carry a glass of champagne with a strawberry in it. "There you go," you say, handing him the glass. Austin's smile widen, making him smirk. "You haven't forgotten anything, have you?" he said and took a sip. You follow him with your eyes, every move, every sigh he lets out. Even though he is tired, he is incredibly hot.

"Are you just going to stand there and watch?" Austin lets out, when he notices you standing there like a fool. "Join me, the tub is big enough." he smirks. How is even possible he can make you feel butterflies like some teenage girl?

After doubting for a moment, he nodded his head towards the bath to signal that there was plenty of room beside him. Finally, you agreed, taking your clothes off, too. His eyes don't leave you, capturing your every move. He holds out his hand, which is wet, covered in bubbles, to help you get inside.

You lay beside him, his arm around your shoulders as he press a kiss into your hair. You can feel the way his body reacts to your touch, making him hum. You then felt Austin kissing your neck, more intensively every time.

"I thought you were tired?" You smirked, looking at him. "I'm never too tired for you, doll," he says, his voice deep. Doll. That nickname is stuck with him since he played Elvis and you absolutely loved it. His hands started to roam around your body, and eventually flipped you, so you lay on the top of him.

You heard the water splash out when he did so. Gasping a little, he pressed his lips against yours. "You're so, so amazing. I can't get enough of you." Austin breathes fast as he continues pressing a small kisses all around your neck.

The original plan was for you to watch a movie together, but now it's clear that Mr. Butler has something much different planned...

[the-silver-peahen-residence]

The roars and the shouts are heard before it becomes silent as something is heard shut. A door. Muffled shouts are heard before laughter is heard, "With this, I can make a new animatronic! Thanks to those brats, I can collect enough agony to make more of these things! It's thanks to that stupid owner who wouldn't give up. Hell, they brought in some damn brats..." Said a figure. It sounded male.

Megumi didn't like that at all. What was he planning to do?! Make more of the animatoric but it sounds like he would make it more danger and disturbing where it might get even worse. He saw Miko struggling but she glares at him while still moving.

"Oh well...I just need to move and leave this dump. Not before bringing more brats in here!" He cackled. "I just need to use those dumb robots and a helper to bring them here."He said.

Someone came into view, he wore a grey Zilla mask, this one looked metal as it had yellow eyes. He looks at Miko, "Tell me...I wonder which of your friends will get here first. The girls, the boys, or that brother and sister! Who knows! It makes the game fun, doesn't it?"

"......" Miko still tries to struggle but he sighed to look at her.

"Now now, don't struggle. You'll hurt yourself like that. I can't let a fresh offering get ruined." he said only to hear more sickening crunch noises to see himself. Miko saw blood on him but also saw the animatronic show up but it was coated in blood along with holding a bloody axe.

Right away Miko's face pales a little. "Though, again, we just begun the game..I'm sure you'll have loads of fun..won't you? Besides, I still didn't forgive you for that kick earlier after you escaped twice. TWICE!" he shouted as he slams the axe above her head almost cutting her hands but missed.

"With your wrestling moves and all that punching and kicking. That hurt you know. BUT! I forgive you for it." he pouts to grip her chin forcing her to look at him.

"I mean after all....I had sooooooo fun making sure you didn't do it again." he said glaring at her but Miko kept looks at him seeing the bloody axe near by.

"So lets see if we can have more guests show up...but you'll be fine won't you.." he smiled petting Miko's head while she was still struggling hoping she can break free again.

"But lets see...maybe you can lead your friends here for me! You can be so helpful and I know I can get them trapped.." he giggled but Miko shook her head furiously not wanting that. He looks to her but he only glares seeing the mask up close that she stares into his glowing yellow eyes.

"Don't you fucking say no to me...you're lucky I didn't kill you.." he said as she was quiet. "Just because you got lucky, I'll be sure you don't...so unless you want me to cut that pretty little head of yours..behave." he warns.

Megumi was worried seeing this but watching the animatronic take him away was troubling. However, Miko kept struggling in her chains trying to get out as she was still gagged. She can hear Meko's screams for help as the roaring was louder now before hearing a door slam close.

"What the hell is this?" megumi asked but he was worried before Miko was trying to talk looking to the camera worried or is she trying to say something? He did see Anaconda there trying to help but the chains had some anit cursed energy so he can't bite into it. She still struggles harshly before she heard Meko screaming again.

"Mffmmm!?!?"

"NO PLEASE! PLEASE DON'T! YOU DON'T HAVE TO DO THIS! PLEASE i...WAIT NO NO NOOOOO!!" She heard another scream before a sicking cut was heard with a pained cry.

"Aaahhh!! IT HURTS! IT'S HURTS PLEASE DON'T! I DON'T WANT TO DIE!!" he begs in the room as Miko was worried.

[ramblingautisticman]

Wade feels guilty for moving on from Vanessa. She was the one thing he could count on for so many years- she was there through so much and had helped every step of the way- and it felt wrong to not love her the same way anymore.

He knows she has moved on too- with Derek or Dermot or whatever- but it feels strange.

Wade loves Logan, don't get him wrong, it's just that sometimes it feels like he's cheating on Vanessa- even though they haven't been together for years. He has moments of a strange guilt that builds in his stomach, moments of worry and panic that Vanessa will see them together and get upset, moments where he remebers doing the same stuff with Vanessa and misses it.

It's stupid, he knows it's stupid, but he can't help how his fucked up brain handles this shit. He never let's either of them find out though- because it would be wierd to talk about- wouldn't?

"Hey babe, sometimes I feel guilty I'm with you because I remember doing these things with Vanessa" isn't exactly something he can just say.

Eventually Logan notices somethings off- notices Wade zone out randomly or stop holding hands as soon as Vanessa is near them- and he brings it up with Wade.

Wade panics- naturally- tries to avoid the conversation as much as he can. It works for the first few attempts, but then Logan corners him in the bedroom and suddenly it's all spilling out.

It makes him feel worse, telling Logan. He has to say "I love you" every other sentence to make sure Logan understands that he truly does love Logan, that he doesn't love Vanessa anymore, but his mind still fucks with him.

And he expects to be met with anger or yelling, but he isn't. Logan just hugs him tight and tells him that he gets it. He had the same thing with Scott after Jean passed, and that if he ever needs to talk that he's there.

It feels wrong to have Logan understand, and maybe put of him was hoping things would blow up simply because that was what he was used too, but he's glad it didn't. Glad Logan understands.

He still feels guilty- still gets those pangs- but he learns to talk about it. To feel okay with moving away from Vanessa.