#my brain forcing me to draw this at midnight while running on 2 hours of sleep because brain said only think about dc x dp now :]

[b0nkedmehead]

(°Д°)

[queen-haq]

Fic: A Woman Scorned - Part 16

Fic: A Woman Scorned - Part 16

Pairing: Billy Russo x Reader

Rating: R for language and smut.

Words: ~3100 words.

Summary: You’ve been sleeping with Billy Russo for a few months now. Knowing his aversion to emotional commitments, you’re satisfied with your clandestine arrangement until you catch him having dinner with Dinah Madani one night. Then it finally dawns on you. It’s not that he doesn’t want to commit, he just doesn’t want to commit to *you*.

Billy may think he knows you, but he has no idea what he’s just lost…

Part 1   Part 2   Part 3   Part 4   Part 5   Part 6   Part 7   Part 8   Part 9   Part 10   Part 11   Part 12   Part 13   Part 14  Part 15

gif credit: @benbarnxs

Part 16

You were straddling Billy, riding him, your hips undulating atop his body. His fingers tightly gripped your waist, getting ready to take charge so you were underneath him, but you refused to submit. Instead you grabbed his hands and pinned it above his head. As you hovered above him, he arched up to kiss you but you shifted back, instead staring down at him intently. He growled at you before he rolled over unexpectedly, taking you along with him.

As he thrust into you, harder and rougher each time, you began to slide off the bed. In your new position, you caught sight of Adam on the floor. His corpse was wrapped up in a rug, only his head sticking out-

“Hey.” Billy pulled you up so you were now sitting across his lap, facing him. “Look at me. Only me.”

Only a few seconds ago he was biting you as you clawed at him, both of you desperate to possess each other. Your movements had been savage, animalistic even, but now Billy was kissing you languidly, his hand brushing the back of your hair while the other settled on the small of your back. You were directing the rhythm of the thrusts now, setting a slower pace so you could fully enjoy the feel of his cock stretching your insides oh-so-tantalizingly. Your forehead braced against his, you closed your eyes and lost yourself to the flood of emotions that overcame you.

***

It was after midnight. Billy had come home with you and both of you were in bed, you nestled against him while he spooned you from behind. Even though you were tired, you couldn’t sleep. Your brain was working overtime processing everything that happened in the last few hours. He stirred next to you, dropping a tender kiss on your bare shoulder.

“What’s wrong?” he murmured. You may have been fully alert but he sounded absolutely exhausted.

“Are you sure they��ll be thorough with the cleaning?”

“Yeah.” Throwing his arm over you, he covered your hand with his. “These guys are not amateurs. They know what they’re doing. There won’t be any traces of us left in that room.”

“And Adam’s body-”

“Will be disposed of.”

“But how do you know you can trust these guys? What’s stopping them from blackmailing-”

“’cause money talks, babe. That crew is very well paid.” He squeezed your palm. “I’ve used them in the past. No trouble yet.”

With his military career you were already aware of his violent past, but you also sensed he had a long hit list aside from that. When he’d realized your plans for Adam, he hadn’t been remotely shocked at the idea of you killing another person. In fact, as you stabbed Adam repeatedly, Billy had looked at you with such pride and reverence that it had left you breathless.

“What we did tonight, you know what that means, don’t you?”

His voice brought you out of your reverie. You exhaled a deep breath, drawing circles on his palm. “That we’re bad people.”

“No, we’re survivors. We take down anyone who gets in our way.”

“He didn’t come after you,” you reminded him. “You didn’t have to get involved.”

He turned you around to face him. “Nobody threatens you and gets to live after that.”

Your heart pounded in your chest. When he looked at you with such intensity, you were almost ready to believe anything.

He cradled your face, his thumb caressing your bottom lip. “We’re connected now. Forever. Because of tonight.”

You didn’t understand how his words could evoke such conflicting emotions within you. On one hand your stomach fluttered with excitement, he was saying things you’d wanted to hear for a long time, but then there was the fear. Doubt. Uncertainty. You forced a smile, hoping some levity would lighten the situation. “You make it sound like we’re married or something.”

Disgust flooded over his face. “Fuck, no. Marriages end. One day you’re bragging about being in love, next it’s all over. It’s not based on anything real. But we are.” He reached for your hand, which was resting on the pillow between you and him, and intertwined his fingers through yours. “I saw you tonight, the real you. And you saw me. No pretenses, no boundaries. And you didn’t run. You didn’t even flinch.”

“Neither did you.” You lifted your eyebrow. “You were rock hard.”

“I always am around you.”

His words made the heat rise in your cheeks, which he noticed right away. Giving you a teasing smile, he leaned in closer to give you a peck on the cheek. “Are you blushing?”

“Shut up.”

Billy’s eyes remained locked on you, simply staring at you with sleepy eyes. “I don’t like who I was when I thought I lost you. I couldn’t eat, couldn’t work. Every time I closed my eyes I imagined you fucking this other guy, kissing him. Even the thought of you talking to him made me want to burn it all down.”

Your heart ached at how tired he looked. Scooting closer, you started massaging his forehead. When he closed his eyes, you dropped a gentle kiss on each of his eyelids, the beauty mark just below his right eye, before snuggling him tightly in your arms. “Sleep, Billy.”

“You’ll be here when I wake up?” he murmured drowsily.

You smiled. “It is my apartment.”

He didn’t respond, already fast asleep. You tried to do the same but couldn’t; there were too many thoughts running around in your brain. You had assumed you’d feel guilty about taking a life; you didn’t. You remembered the vicious, contemptuous anger in Adam’s eyes when he’d held you at gunpoint, and how he’d threatened to kill others in your team, and all you felt was relief. Relief that he was dead and no longer a danger to you.

Billy stirred next to you, drawing your attention. You reached out to hold him, your touch feather-light so as not to wake him up. He looked calm and peaceful, unlike the haunted and distraught way he appeared earlier in the hotel room. It was still hard to digest that he’d been so unhinged at the thought of losing you. But the thing that resonated with you the most was that he hadn’t been able to hurt you despite all of the anger he’d felt. Growing up the way you had, you were always on alert for things to turn violent at any moment. One wrong comment or an innocent gesture - hell even a lone pair of sock on the floor - had the potential to trigger your father’s temper and turn things violent. During those moments his rage was uncontrollable, and as a result you always worried about how people reacted when they were furious. The fact that Billy hadn’t hit you even though he’d been completely enraged made you realize you were physically safe with him.

Maybe emotionally as well. For so long you’d had difficulty believing he could reciprocate your feelings yet you couldn’t ignore how devastated he’d been. Nor could you rationalize away his emotions. It still felt surreal but he did truly care about you, and the thought filled you with warmth and made your heart soar with happiness.

You brushed your lips against his, hoping Billy’s comforting presence next to you would help you relax. However, fifteen minutes later sleep still alluded you. Eventually you decided to do something useful and work instead. Carefully sliding out of bed so you didn’t disturb him, you tip-toed out of the bedroom. Immediately you felt the soreness in your body, an after effect of the rough sex you had with Billy in the hotel room earlier. Grabbing a nearby throw, you were soon nestled in your favourite spot on the chaise lounge, working away on your laptop.

An hour later you heard footsteps behind you and you turned around to find Billy yawning, clad in boxers, his hair all ruffled.

“Why aren’t you in bed?” he grumbled.

You scooted over to give him space to sit on the chaise but he seemed to have other ideas in mind as he took a seat behind you. You found yourself settled between his legs, your back nestled against his chest, as he caressed down the length of your arms.

“I couldn’t sleep. Figured I might as well do something useful.”

“What corporate shit are you working on?” he teased, playfully grabbing your laptop to look at your screen. You smacked his arm right away, shutting the screen and pushing the laptop away.

Billy purposely rubbed his face against the base of your neck and you started giggling at the sensation of his prickly beard on your bare skin. “Stop,” you whined. “It tickles.” you squealed loudly, trying to jump out of his arms but he held you in a tight grip.

Finally he stopped, and as you struggled to catch your breath, you slapped his arm playfully. “You’re such a jerk.”

He chuckled, hugging you tightly from behind. “That’s for ignoring all my calls since Tuesday.”

“I’m still not unblocking your number,” you retorted. His beard scraped along your shoulder, making you squeal again. “Okay, fine. Sorry!”

“Swear that you’re not gonna block me again.”

You turned around in his arms, resting on your knees as your arms looped around his neck. Smiling down at him, you nuzzled your nose with his. “Swear that you won’t act like an asshole again.”

“Can’t really do that.”

“Exactly.” He tucked your hair behind your ear. Butterflies fluttered in your stomach at the tender affection on his face, the warmth of his gaze spreading slow, languid heat throughout your body. “You should go back to bed. You still look tired.”

“I’ve had a rough week.”

You pouted your lips. “I know. I’m sorry.”

“Want to make it up to me?” he asked, cocking his eyebrow at you.

”How? By sucking you off?” you teased, running your fingers through his hair.

“Move in with me.”

Your hands stilled on him, finding it hard to breathe all of a sudden. At first you thought he was joking but the solemn expression on his face made you realize otherwise. You moved away, putting much needed distance between the two of you.

“That’s not funny, Billy.”

Maintaining a rigid posture on the chaise lounge, he shrugged his shoulders. “Not meant to be. I’m dead serious.”

“You know that’s ridiculous, right?”

“Why? ‘cause I wanna keep you safe?”

“The threat is gone. I took care of it.”

“We took care of it,” he said pointedly. “A threat which you didn’t even tell me about.”

“I explained that to you already.” Feeling defensive, you started pacing the floor. “You promised you’d have your guy stop tailing me.”

“Sure. As soon as I know you’re not gonna keep things from me again. You moving in will help with that.”

“So if I don’t move in, you’ll have me followed 24/7?” Anger surged through you, you were so furious you wanted to scream. “That’s fucking blackmail.”

“Relax. No need to be so dramatic about it.”

You grabbed the closest cushion you had and flung it at him, enraged by his patronising tone. “We barely know each other-”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” he interjected, finally moving to stand up. His eyes were pitch black, his jaw clenched. “You and I killed someone tonight! You took my hand, my knife, and we stabbed the bastard in the heart with it, together. We fucked while he drew his last breath and now you’re feeding me this bullshit?” He stormed towards you. “No! I’ve seen your darkness and you’ve seen mine. There’s no one else in this world that knows us better than we know each other.”

You shook your head, flabbergasted by his reaction. “This is insane. I can’t move in with you. We haven’t even gone out on a real date because you said I was boring!”

“If you believe that then you really are a fucking idiot!”

You stiffened, his words ringing in your ear. Fucking idiot. Something your father used to call you repeatedly, his tone full of hate and vitriol when he lashed out at you. It started with a fucking idiot then spiralled into bitch and whore and everything else hurtful under the sun. You swore to yourself you’d never accept being spoken to like that by another person yet here you were, being insulted again by someone who was supposed to care about you.

You retreated back from Billy, careful to keep your distance from him, and leveled him with a cold glance. “Don’t you ever talk to me like that again.” 

Your voice may have been deceptively calm but there was a storm brewing inside you. You desperately needed some space. As you moved away from Billy and headed to the kitchen, he tried to block your path but you immediately pushed him away. “Don’t touch me!”

You quickly sidestepped past him and entered the kitchen, heading for the cabinet where you kept your bottle of whiskey. Pouring yourself a glass, you slowly sipped the liquid to soothe your frayed nerves and forget the memories Billy had just unleashed in you.

***

Even as the words left his mouth, Billy knew he’d made a mistake. He regretted what he said instantly, even more so when he realized how much the words had stung you. The last thing he wanted was to cause you pain but he couldn’t seem to help himself. The more he tried to hold on to you the more you slipped through his fingers.

After giving you a few minutes to calm down, he entered the kitchen behind you. You were standing in the opposite corner, drinking the hard stuff, which further signalled how shaken you were. Billy knew Scotch wasn’t something you enjoyed, you only drank it when you were messed up.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized. “I shouldn’t have said that. It won’t happen again. I swear.”

You didn’t acknowledge him, and it hurt like hell.

“When I think about you pulling away from me, it makes me lose my mind.” He swallowed audibly, desperately trying to get through to you. “I’m all in when it comes to us but it feels like you always have one foot out the door.” He took hesitant steps towards you while your eyes still remained on the countertop, refusing to meet his gaze. “I keep fucking up but I’ve never felt this way before. I don’t know what I’m doing. I just can’t lose you, Y/N.”

“I’m not built like you, Billy,” you finally spoke, turning to look at him. “I have doubts. I’m constantly dealing with insecurities. It takes me time to trust people, and I just can’t rush into things head-on.”

“And I’m someone who hustles. I go after everything I want with guns blazing. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t have Anvil.”

“But I’m not a thing, Billy. I’m a person, and you can’t push me into doing stuff I’m not ready for.”

He exhaled a resigned sigh. “I know. It’s ‘cause I get paranoid when it comes to you. You’re a closed book and you never tell me anything.” His eyes scanned yours, his stomach clenched with anxiety. “I don’t even know how you feel about me.” It was the first time he’d voiced that thought, something he didn’t even realize he felt until this very moment. You wanted him, that he knew, and you’d even confessed you loved him once but he didn’t really believe in that bullshit. What mattered to him was if you needed him as much as he did you. The idea of not having you in his life drove him insane, but did you feel the same way? He didn’t think so and it bothered the fuck out of him.

You set your glass down on the counter before reaching out to cradle his face, your soulful eyes meeting his emotional gaze. “I want to be with you, Billy. I like you so much that it scares me.”

Your words brought with them a tidal wave of relief that swept over him like a calm breeze. It was like he could breathe again. He pulled you close, his forehead against yours as he simply held you. “Don’t be scared, babe. I don’t bite.”

“That is a complete fucking lie,” you retorted. “I still have the marks from earlier to prove it.” Your smile faded again as you held his stare. “But I need you to be patient with me. You can’t bully me or get mad if I don’t want to rush into things.”

He nodded his head. “I won’t.”

“I’ve only ever had myself to rely on. And the thought of trusting you? Relying on you? It scares the hell out of me. Because there’s always a voice in my head that’s reminding me I need to go back to being alone when we end things.”

“I need to kill that voice.”

You chuckled, reaching out to loop your arms behind his back. “It shuts up eventually. It did in the hotel room when I saw how fucked up you were without me. That’s when it sunk in you actually do like me.”

“It took you that long to believe it?”

You gave him a sad smile. “Yeah. You did tell me I was boring.”

He groaned right away, regret washing over him. He should never have said those fucking words to you. “You’re not boring. You’re smart. And hot.” He kissed your left cheek. “And sweet. And funny. And mine.” Then the right cheek. “And when you lecture me about cybersecurity, I get so hard.”

“Whatever. You’re the one who wanted to know more about the topic,” you grumbled.

He grinned, giving you a tender peck on the lips. “I can listen to you talk for hours and hours-“

“Shut up.” You pressed your palm over his mouth.

Wrapping his arms around you, he lifted you off the ground and started carrying you back to the bedroom. “Forever actually, if you’re naked.”

“Not once have I lectured you naked.”

He dropped you on the bed. “Yeah, exactly. Time you start.” He jumped into bed, rubbing his beard on your face again as you started squealing.

A few minutes later you were both panting for air, staring up at the ceiling. “Just to make it clear, I’m not moving in,” you huffed through laboured breaths.

He turned to look at you, smirking. “Fine, but I’m taking you out tonight. Proper date and all.”

The most beautiful smile graced your face. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You were a ray of sunshine beaming up at him and Billy’s heart felt so full he worried it would explode. If he could, he’d freeze this moment forever.

Part 17

A/N - As always, your wonderful feedback is what keeps me inspired to write and post consistently. I was initially nervous about this chapter because the characters experience a gamut of emotions but it was necessary. I hope you like and enjoy this chapter. Feedback, as always, is very much appreciated and feeds my soul :)

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[obeymeluv]

Signs they Love You

Back for my 1 post a week to prove school hasn’t totally killed me! When I get a semester break, I’ll post more often. In the mean time, feel free to leave me chats or PMs for stuff you want to see! :) Something nice and sappy for an okay Saturday

These turned out really long so I only did Lucifer, Mammon, Levi, and Satan. I have to get back to studying :/. Maybe I’ll have part 2 next week?

Lucifer

You wouldn’t be able to notice it because his pride wouldn’t allow you to. One of the brothers (or, to Lucifer’s extreme mortification, Lord Diavolo) would have to tell you

He’s not sure if it’s just the appreciation of you not being as totally chaotic as his brothers or genuine human naivete that has somehow worn off on him, but he loves you

Will be outed by sappy, soft stares that last 2 seconds too long.

Asmo and Satan are the first to notice and he LOATHES that

If he’s tasked with waking you up that morning, his knock will be firm but his voice will be gentle. Almost persuasive or commiserating

If you’re feeling overwhelmed by school workload, he may have a private conference with the teacher and grant you a minor extension. Will you know it was him? No. Is he happy to see you brighten up and refill with hope just a bit? Definitely. Is it worth the teasing from Lord Diavolo? ...Sure.

If he responds to texts in the wee hours of the morning when he’s still pouring over paperwork, he likes you.

Anyone who knows him can see how his eyes soften when someone else talks about you. There’s a fond slowness to his actions, how he glides his hand imperceptibly over his chest as if to feel where that emotion is coming from. Boy is whipped.

Should Lord Diavolo invite him out for a meeting, he will bring you back something small. Something he thought you’d like. Beel is upset. Levi yells “SIMP!” from the second floor and prepares for Armageddon.

Actually reminds you about assignments if you’re not already up on it yourself. Your success is his joy.

Is very keen on if/when you burn the candle too long and has a sixth sense for bad sleeping habits. Will put you on a stricter schedule for your own health

It may take almost all of the brothers to do it (or just help from Diavolo) but if he gets drunk on Demonus you’re getting a whole BOOK about why he likes you. He almost charms your memory away but everyone practically dog-piles on him not to because he needs to deal with his feelings.

You’re the only one he won’t chase out of his study when he’s doing paperwork. He’ll even set up a little fire if you like the fireplace.

How he confesses: tries to take you on a fancy date to Ristorante Six. Does not know that Lord Diavolo and Barbatos know about this (damn time-travelling butler!) and basically crash the date just to encourage him. Just long enough to encourage him.

Kind of an, “So you chose this idea, Lucifer? Admirable! I’m sure your date will be amazing! Enjoy your evening!” as Diavolo walks back to his table.

Does Lucifer deny it? Look and see how red his face is. If you’re really not sure, ask Diavolo. He will gladly yell, “I cannot lie!” across the restaurant.

Mammon

For all his talk, when he really, really decides he likes you, he doesn’t know what to say.

He can console himself with how obvious it is and how you made the best choice, but he has to show it! What to do?

Mammon’s kind of confused about it because he doesn’t really change how he behaves. You didn’t catch on already?! C’mon, human!

What, does he have to spell it out for you? Do an interview with Majolish?

His first tactic is to just be around you. Be subtle, and maybe cuddle a bit more than usual. Things to show he’s kittenish and at your mercy. Comfortable with you.

You don’t seem to be getting the hint so he throws the net a little wider by trying to find things you like or that you’ve been talking about. They mysteriously show up at your door.

It sends the others on a gossip train about who your admire could be and when they list off everyone BUT him, he wants to slam his head on the table.

Feeling tired? Coffee! Backpack heavy? Silly human, the BEST man can help you with that, OBVIOUSLY! Mammon jumps at the chance to do any little thing for you because he cares. His actions always speak louder than words.

Feeling kind of defeated and embarrassed, Mammon will go talk to the flock of crows that meander around the House of Lamentation’s yard when he really needs them.

For the next few days you’re accosted in the nicest way, birds chirping at you and dropping off various shiny things

You collect them, finally showing them to Mammon and he’s embarrassed that his representative animal has taken to courting you on his behalf.

He calls them to him, embarrassed and ready to rant or fall into the ground never to be seen again, when they start talking. Repeating all the things he’s practiced saying.

“Hey baby,”, “Hey human,” “Love you!”, “Silly! Silly!”, “Dummy, no, dummy!”, “My human.”

It’s broken and confusing, six or seven bird children cawing in your face and bobbing, but you get it.  

Levi

Levi’s not the best at expressing himself but it counts, right? As much as he hates to admit he’s some kind of shy tsundere, you know what that is, right? He doesn’t have to say it?

Yes. Yes he does. His brothers are getting too chummy with you and you don’t understand his signals. Time for Plan B.

If you get invited to stand in line for a midnight release, he hopes you take it. Then it’s just you two hanging out in line? What’s this? He brought snacks? Totally not for the two of you BUT you an have some if you’re hungry. It’s whatever

When he’s not doing boss raids and playing with online friends, he’ll ask if you want to play something with him. A Player 1 needs a Player 2, you know?

I headcanon that Levi knows how to play some unusual instruments like the kalimba or a real ocarina. I could see him making you a song on one of those. Or just playing it because you inspire him. He’s very good with a harp and will play it when he’s in the mood.

Boy also likes to draw and paint. Especially loves watercolors. Would it be weird if he gave you a painting of you as a mermaid? Just you and the ocean. Beautiful.

Was there a really cute plush or knickknack you liked? Levi has his ways, regardless of how rare or limited edition it is. It will be yours. 

He has a hard time understanding a passing comment of interest versus a genuine want because he genuinely wants everything he’s interested in, so if you hear a whisper about him almost securing something, stop and look it up. Make sure it’s not super expensive!!

Probably outed by Belphegor, who feels like Levi’s broadcasting all of his stress, frustration, and hope through his dreams. (”His dreams are weird. Just different ways of asking them out, and if he messes up it restarts like a simulation. My brain hurts.” he says to Beel)

 You’re allowed to come into his super-restricted bedroom haven when everything’s too much. It’s very exclusive since the Mammon incident. Be happy.

Might go swimming in his big tank and pick a seashell or rock to make a necklace out of. He hopes you like it.

If he’s not outed by Belphie, some of his online friends made a game demo they wanted him to try. They specified it was two player so he asked you to join in. While he��s in the middle of bragging about how he knows people, knows developers, he totally misses the dating-sim like dialogue and the big reveal.

Doesn’t really kick in until he realize the characters look like you two. You’re busy saying ‘Yes’ to “Do you like me?” as Levi absolutely threatens to rip them apart six ways to Sunday. Almost in full demon mode, too.

Everything falls out of his brain and quiets in his throat when he realizes the characters are kissing and ‘THEY SAID YES!’ flashes on the screen.

“Y-You like me?”

“Yep.”

It was that easy all along. Levi thinks he’s going to faint.  

Satan

Becomes aware of it pretty quick but ignores it for a looong time

Is it rude or foolish of him to assume you would also like him back?

Run away into books. A solid plan. If you don’t think about it, it’s not an issue

Oh, but it is an issue when you fall asleep after a mutual day of reading, forced in by bad weather. He finds his heart fluttering in a painful squeeze as he quietly whispers all the things he dare not say when you’re awake

It’s nervous poetry, and it’s beautiful

Satan tries to get himself back on track, to focus on reading, and he gets frustrated when he’s stuck on the same page almost an hour later

When you’re on the brain he just can’t do anything else

How does one show their affection? He’s swimming in books for a new reason now, as voracious as ever

He brews you a pot of Melancholy Coffee and is a bit disappointed you don’t know the meaning behind the bitterness. Wants to break the pot when Lucifer jokes about how it tastes exceptionally bitter to him as well.

Okay, so coffee didn’t work. What else do people do when they show their affections?

Asmo suggests a ‘not a date’ date and Satan sighs inside. Sounds like a lot of work and effort. It’s not that you’re not worth it, but he has a feeling that everyone will know and look at him the whole time.

Tries anyways. You guys go to a beautiful nature conservatory and take a tour of the plants and some indigenous animals

You’re starting to realize it now, he can tell. Satan tries to answer your question without saying it while you’re at school. You walk together, he offers to carry some of your books, and always requests that he be your project partner

Nearly there. If there was a single defining moment for him, he’d want it to be classic. He shows up at your door with a rose and asks you to go on a moonlit walk.

Mammon’s poking fun about how cheesy and cliche it is, Asmo’s gearing up to shut Mammon’s stupid mouth, and Satan just whisks you out the door with an aggravated sigh.

No matter what side of the house you’re on, Asmo throws up the biggest, gaudiest handmade sign that’s like ‘CUTEST COUPLE! 10/10!’

[marjansmarwani]

In the midnight hour, we came alive

3.3k || ao3 

He heard footsteps behind as he walked him but thought nothing of it until he noticed a figure leaning against the side of a building, at the mouth of an alley. It seemed innocent enough but something about it made the hair on the back of Carlos’s neck stand on edge. Something wasn’t right.

Or, When Carlos goes off on his own while out with TK and Paul, he finds more far trouble than he expected. ---- Day 2 of Angst Week: "does it hurt badly?” + "don’t move, they hit your head really hard” + infected wound for bthb

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This one was started with a prompt request from an Anon who asked for hurt Carlos and I decided to throw in my infected wound square for @badthingshappenbingo, requested by @immortalstrand. 

Beta’d by @silvarafael

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“I still don’t know why you didn’t ask Picnic Girl to come out with us.” 

Carlos rolled his eyes fondly as Paul glared at TK, “Will you let that go?” 

“No, I will not,” TK said firmly. “It seemed like she liked you and I know you liked her. So I’m just wondering why you haven’t seen more of her.” 

“You know most of us don’t just fall into a perfect committed relationship with the first person we meet in a new town, TK. Some of us have to play the game.” 

“First of all, don’t hate,” TK chided, sliding an arm around Carlos’s waist as he spoke and flashing him a grin before he continued. “Secondly, you have been playing the game! And you found a girl that seems like a good match for you. So I’m just curious why you aren’t trying harder to pursue it.”

Paul opened up his mouth to respond to his friend but was interrupted when the line moved forward. 

“Oh thank god,” Carlos muttered, rather louder than he meant to, causing the other two to look at him. “Don’t give me those looks,” he said defensively, “ you two have been having this argument all night. I will happily take any distraction. Like this lovely ID check before we get into the club where it will be too loud for you to hear each other enough to continue this conversation.” 

Paul snorted and TK shook his head at his boyfriend even as he leaned closer to him. 

“I’m sorry,” TK said sheepishly, “I didn’t mean to drag it on so long.” 

“It’s okay,” Carlos responded with a smile, “I know you mean well.” 

“You’re really just going to let him off like that?” Paul asked incredulously. 

Carlos shrugged, “He is awfully cute.” 

“Wow man, wow. I thought you had my back.” 

Carlos’s response was cut off when the line moved forward again the bouncer at the club asked for their IDs. Carlos shifted out of TK’s grasp so he could reach into his pocket, only to come up empty. He frowned, reaching into his other pocket instead with the same result. Both Paul and TK as well as the bouncer were watching him now and he shrugged, “It doesn’t look like I have it, I must have left it in the car.”

“Can’t let you in without it, man,” the bouncer began, and Carlos nodded. 

“Of course, I understand. I’ll just go get it.” 

“Do you want us to come with you?” TK asked, but Carlos shook his head. 

“No, you two go in. I’ll meet you there shortly.” 

“Are you sure?” TK asked again, “We don’t mind.” 

“I’m a big boy, Ty,” Carlos reminded him with a roll of his eyes, “I can handle walking two blocks to the car on my own. Go inside and I’ll be there before you know it. Just make sure that you save a dance for me?” 

“They’re all for you,” TK assured him, and Carlos grinned. He gave TK a quick kiss before waving at Paul and stepping out of the line, heading towards his car. 

He hadn’t parked far - the Camaro was on a side street about two blocks from the front door of the club - and it was a nice night for a walk at least. The humid day had faded into a cool night and Carlos savored the breeze and the quiet of the city at night. It was a nice reprieve from what was sure to be several hours full of loud music and close quarters with strangers and Carlos let himself enjoy it as he finished the journey to his car. 

It wasn’t a long walk and within a few minutes he had reached his destination, unlocking the door and leaning inside, peering around for his missing wallet. It only took him a moment to spot it on the floor of the driver’s seat. He picked it up, sliding it back into his pocket as he shut and locked the door behind him and stepped back onto the sidewalk to head back towards the noise and bright lights of the main street. 

He heard footsteps behind as he walked him but thought nothing of it until he noticed a figure leaning against the side of a building, at the mouth of an alley. It seemed innocent enough but something about it made the hair on the back of Carlos’s neck stand on edge. Something wasn’t right. 

He sped up slightly, not wanting to draw attention to himself but wanting to reach the main street as quickly as possible. His focus was split between that goal and on watching the figure by the alley that he didn’t notice the footsteps behind him growing ever closer until it was too late. 

The assailant attacked from behind, using a surprising amount of force to shove Carlos to the side, sending him sprawling onto the ground of the alley to his right. He picked himself up, spinning to face his attackers. It may be two against one, but he had training and strength on his side. He was a cop, he knew what was likely about to happen and he knew how to handle it. He wasn’t worried, it would be fine. 

Or at least, he thought it would until he heard more footsteps behind him, coming from different sides. Four was different. Four against one had odds that almost never favored the one. For the first time, Carlos let himself feel fear. This was not going to go well for him, he knew it with cold certainty. 

That doesn’t mean they needed to know that though. 

“What do you want?” he asked calmly, voice steady and back straight. He turned as he spoke, trying to keep them all in his field of vision as much as possible. He didn’t get an answer. What he got instead was a blinding pain as something collided with the side of his head, and he staggered. He managed to regain his footing, to stay upright, but only for another moment. There were hands on him now, roughly reaching for his pockets before shoving him down and he collided with the alley ground. A sharp pain ripped through him from his side as blows rained down on him from all directions. 

He couldn’t follow what was happening - all he knew was pain and noise. It was loud and fast and all-consuming; it made his head swim. The noise didn’t stop but eventually, the blows did. It took him a moment to realize they were done but once he did he tried to pull himself up. He needed to get out of this alley, he needed to get help. 

But the pain was too sharp and it sent him crashing down again, the arms he had been trying to push himself up with giving out beneath him. He lay there, mindful of the peril of his predicament and knowing he needed to do something, that he needed to move. But his head was swimming and he couldn’t manage to follow a coherent thought. Even the need to get help was not so much a plan as a disjointed thought floating through his pain hazed mind. He needed to get help, but all he wanted to do was close his eyes and let the blackness encroaching on the edges of his vision consume him. 

He was about to do just that when the sound of more commotion drifted in from the mouth of the alley. He heard more footsteps, and he tensed. Could they be back for round two? He was fairly certain they had already stripped him of anything of value. What more could there be to take? Maybe, he thought wryly, they just wanted to hurt him some more. Maybe that was just their idea of a good time. 

The footsteps grew closer but there were fewer of them this time, he thought. He was still trying to blink, to open his eyes and see who was coming when a voice joined the footsteps, “Carlos!” 

The voice was familiar, but he couldn’t place it. He must know them though, they had called him by name. He heard the sound of the footsteps quickening as they drew closer and the sudden warmth of someone else’s hands against his skin. He jerked back on reflex before the same voice sounded again, warm and soothing in his ears. 

“Easy Carlos, it’s just me babe. You’re safe and we’re going to get you help.” 

He frowned as he pulled his eyes open, squinting in an effort to focus, to make out the face before him. Worried green eyes greeted his own and he could feel some of the tension leave his body. 

“TK,” he croaked and his boyfriend swallowed before reaching out to rub a gentle hand on his face. 

“Yeah, it’s me, babe. Can you tell me what hurts?”

Everything Carlos thought dully but he pushed his mind, running over the pain that covered his body, looking for a source. “Head,” he said eventually, “hip.” 

He felt TK’s gentle hands leave his face and travel to his side, where he let out a curse. He said something over his shoulder and got a response but Carlos couldn’t follow any of it. Maybe if he stood up... 

“Hey, don’t move,” TK instructed, “they hit your head really hard and you have a wound on your side too. You need to stay put until paramedics get here.”  

“You are a paramedic,” Carlos muttered, but it came out more like a question. He wasn’t too sure of anything at the moment.

“Paramedics with gear and an ambulance then,” TK amended, “you’re going to need both for your side.” 

“What’s wrong with it?” he managed to ask. 

“There’s some scrap metal stuck in it,” TK told him. “I’m not sure if…” 

He trailed off but even Carlos’s hazy brain could figure out where his mind had been going, “Must’ve fallen on it,” he muttered, “when they pushed me down.” 

He could feel TK’s hands tighten on him at the revelation and saw movement as another face entered his field of vision. 

“Do you know how many of them there were?” the other face (Paul, his mind provided. They had been out with Paul) asked. 

“Four maybe?” Carlos said with a shrug that ended abruptly with a wince as he jostled his side. TK’s hands moved to his shoulders, steadying him. 

“Hey, try and hold still,” he said softly, “you’re in pretty rough shape.”

“I’m fine.” 

The fact that the words entered the night air slurred did not help his case and caused TK to scoff, “Don’t even try that with me Carlos Reyes, you are not fine.” 

Carlos wanted to argue with him, to tell him he was fine so he could get rid of that terrified look in TK’s eyes but he couldn’t find the words. His efforts were stalled by the sounds of approaching sirens and he realized with dread that there would be police called to the scene as well. When he had planned his night in his head being found bleeding and injured in an alley by his coworkers had never entered the equation, but his luck was just like he supposed. 

“It’s okay,” TK assured him, “the ambulance just got here. You’ll be out of here soon.” 

Carlos wasn’t sure if he had shared his thoughts out loud or not, but he appreciated the reassurance either way. He wouldn’t be any good to talk to at the moment anyway. His brain was still too scrambled, everything that had happened was in his mind in flashes; quick and jumbled and out of order. 

There were more footsteps and voices now. There was a flurry of activity and Carlos couldn’t keep track of any of it. All he knew was pain and the feel of TK’s hands on him. He heard his boyfriend’s voice and he tried to follow it, tried to cling to it to maintain some semblance of what was going on but he was only able to extract every few words. The rest hit his mind and dissipated, losing all meaning in the face of the pain and confusion engulfing him. 

More hands were on him now but TK stayed at his side, a comfort and an anchor amongst all the commotion. He heard his name from the edges of the commotion - his fellow officers, no doubt. He closed his eyes again, cursing his horrible luck but TK lightly prodded him.

“Hey, stay with me Carlos. You need to stay awake.” 

He made a noise of protest but opened his eyes nonetheless in time to see the world shift as he was transferred to the gurney. He was pushed through the growing crowd, TK at his side murmuring words of encouragement. His world shifts again as the gurney is lifted into the ambulance and pain washes over him as his side is jostled. He hisses in pain and TK’s hands are on him again, warm and comforting to pair with his soothing voice, “It’s okay Carlos, you’re going to be fine. Just stay with me, babe.” 

And Carlos wants to, he really does. But the darkness at the edges of his vision is growing closer now and he doesn’t think he really has a choice. He meets TK’s eyes, so full of love and worry, and tries to smile before his eyes close again, TK’s voice the last sound he hears. 

-----------

The next time he’s aware of anything he’s in a hospital room. At least, he thinks he is. Everything is a little hazy, but he knows he’s no longer in the alley, at least. 

He groans as the light hits his eyes, causing a spike of pain in his head. He hears movement off to the side and then there is a hand on him and a soft voice to his side: “Carlos?” 

The voice was soft and familiar. “TK?” 

“Yeah babe,” he said, “it’s me. How are you feeling?” 

“Lousy,” Carlos told him honestly, pulling a weak chuckle from the other man. 

“That’s not surprising,” he said quietly, gently pulling himself onto the edge of the bed so Carlos could see him better. 

“What happened?” Carlos asked him, frowning as he tried to piece the fragments of sound and sensations in his mind into something concrete. “I remember being attacked and then you and Paul finding me, but nothing after that.” 

 TK reached out a hand wrapped it around one of Carlos’s, “You just got out of surgery a little while ago,” he told him softly, “they had to remove the metal in your side. There was a decent amount of tearing and it was dirty, so they’re worried about infection. To top all that off you have a concussion and a skull fracture.” 

“Ouch,” Carlos said absently and TK gave him a sympathetic grin. 

“Ouch is right. The good news is that as long as you aren’t showing any signs of infection you should be able to be released tomorrow, providing you have someone to stay with you. And it just so happens I have some vacation time saved up.” 

“Is that so?” 

“Mhm,” TK confirmed lightly, reaching out his other hand to caress Carlos’s face. Carlos leaned into the touch, but TK frowned. “You’re really warm, babe.” 

Really? Carlos was surprised by the statement. “I’m freezing,” he told TK, whose frown deepened. 

“That’s not a great sign,” he admitted, “could be an infection setting in. I’m going to try and grab your doctor, you just relax, okay?” 

“Okay,” he told TK, but his eyes were already drifting closed again. He didn’t know why it was so hard to keep them open. Maybe it was the after effects of the anesthesia. Regardless of the reason, Carlos was out before TK even reached the door. 

-----------

The next few times Carlos woke up were a haze. He thinks he’s been awake a few times, but they all blended together. There are sounds and voices, people and faces he can’t quite place. And TK - TK is always there. That’s the only thing Carlos knows for sure. 

He doesn’t know how long it had been but eventually, when he opened his eyes, his mind felt clearer. He blinked a few times to test it before glancing around the room. The hospital seemed quieter than usual, the typical hustle and bustle more sedated. But that’s not Carlos’s concern. His only concern is the sleeping figure in the chair beside his bed, head braced uncomfortably by his left arm held aloft by the side of the chair. The other man looked exhausted and as much as Carlos wanted to see his eyes and get some answers, he couldn’t bear the thought of waking him. He settled instead for attempting to shift into a more comfortable position, which turned out to both be impossible and a mistake as he jostled his side and let out an involuntary gasp of pain. 

TK was awake in an instant, head dropping unceremoniously off of his extended hand as he sat up, eyes flying open and seeking Carlos in panic. 

“I’m sorry,” Carlos said sheepishly when their eyes met, “I didn’t want to wake you, you look exhausted.” 

“It’s fine,” TK assured him hurriedly, leaning forward in his seat, “I’m just happy to see you awake again. How are you feeling?” 

“Better,” Carlos told him honestly, ���still in pain and not feeling great, but my mind feels clearer than it has the last few times I woke up, I think. It’s all kind of a haze, to be honest.” 

TK’s expression darkened as he leaned forward, placing the back of his hand on Carlos’s forehead, “I’m not surprised, the infection they were worried about came, and it hit you hard. You don’t feel warm anymore, I think the fever finally broke.” 

Carlos frowned at his boyfriend as he leaned back into his seat, “How long has it been?” 

“We’re on day 3 now. Well, night 3. It’s after midnight now.”

“Shit,” Carlos said, leaning his head back into the pillows and TK chuckled lightly.

“That about sums it up, yeah. That’s what happens when a piece of rusty metal impales you. They think that it got into your bloodstream which is why the infection spread so fast and, well it was really scary, Carlos.” 

There was quiet for a few moments as they both got lost in their own thoughts. Carlos opened his mouth, but TK shook his head. 

“Don’t apologize,” he said firmly, “none of this is your fault.” 

“I wasn’t going to,” Carlos said defensively, choosing to ignore TK’s skeptical eyebrow, “I was going to thank you, for being here. I know it can’t have been easy.” 

TK’s expression softened and he lifted himself out of his chair, coming to rest on the side of Carlos’s bed. “There’s nowhere else I would have wanted to be,” he told him honestly, “you needed me and that’s where I will always be, no matter what.”  

Carlos smiled at him and shifted over in the bed to make more room. Or at least, that is what he planned to do. Instead, his movements were brought to an abrupt halt by a flash of pain as he jostled his side again, freezing his movements and pulling a gasp from his lips. 

TK’s hands were on him in an instant, steady and reassuring. “Hey, try not to move too much,” he admonished lightly, “you’re still injured.” He gestured down to his side, “Does it hurt badly?” 

“Yeah,” Carlos admitted, “but I’ll be fine. You’re here and that’s all I need.” 

TK studied him for a moment before breaking out in laughter. “Carlos Reyes,” he said between breaths, “you are a sap. And while that’s sweet, I think some pain medication might help too.” 

He leaned around Carlos to reach for the call button and Carlos sighed in defeat. 

“Fine,” he relented, “but I’d much rather have you.” 

“Whoever said the two were mutually exclusive, babe?” TK asked him, leaning forward and pressing a light kiss to his forehead, “I’m not going anywhere, and that’s a promise.” 

[allmightluver]

First lines meme

Ooo! 😲 thank you for the tag @justanotherfoolhere !!

Rules: List the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have less than 20 just list them all!) See if there are any patterns. Choose your favorite opening lines. Tag 10 authors!

I’m incredibly shy so if you would like to do this, I tag you!!

Ah I have some old stories from old fandoms (or side fandoms I should say), but as for MHA, most of my stories are just wips right now. I have approximately 5-6 stories in the works right now, however 3 are just thoughts yet, not written out, 1-2 are RP’s with another person that I’m not sure if I have the ability to share yet 😅, 1 is....extremely, well...NSFW 🙈 even the first line asfkgkka I’m not going to do that one, you’ll just have to read it on ao3 when it’s done 😖

However! I do have a massive story that’s been in the works for over a year now (atm it’s around 57,800 words), I’ve actually gotten stuck on it half way through and a friend is helping me by rping those parts with me. If anyone remembers from forever ago, I talked about writing a story about Toshinori actually becoming addicted to his painkillers, and overdosing during class, that’s this story. I have a good chunk of this written, so to make up for my lack of stories, I’ll post a few paragraphs of the beginning! (I hope that’s ok! 🙈)

((I should note, I don’t normally rp, the ones I’ve done are just with a close friend or two))

So, here’s a few paragraphs of what I’ve been calling “Painkiller” under the read more...

Eyelids sluggishly rise. Each blink seems to be getting slower and slower. And he’s still talking. How the soft furred mammal at the front of their table can speak for hours at a time without so much as a break is a superhuman feat. Of course, the principal isn’t human at all, which probably is how he can accomplish it.

Black eyes glance at the clock on the wall across from him. 1:50 p.m. This was supposed to be a short meeting. A quick briefing on the school’s protection and security upgrades. This is also the time to give feedback on how the procedures seem to be working. It had started during their lunch break at 12:30 p.m., and it’s still dragging on. Snipe as well as a few other teachers that have classes to teach at this time are absent, but the rest of the available staff are present.

Shota massages his eyelids, refraining from gritting his teeth against the stinging, and promptly tipping his head back to apply his eye drops. They’re almost gone, he’ll have to get a refill from Recovery Girl. Shota lowers his head once again, black locks falling back over his face.

He’s exhausted. A full night on patrol and then the morning teaching at UA. He’s done for the day after this, and all he wants is to sleep. He’ll still have to check in with Eri to be sure she’s been ok throughout the day, before he can collapse on his bed. 

Eri was still adjusting to living at UA, but seemed to be doing well so far. When he couldn’t be with her, she had another teacher or staff member watching her. Thankfully, there hasn’t been an instance with her quirk going out of control. Yet. He hopes to keep it that way. She’s just starting school, but slowly. She has a lot of learning in just living before she can worry much about academic intelligence. But Shota has no concerns of her being able to catch up to her age and grade level. Eri’s proven to be smarter than they’ve given her credit for. Perhaps wiser in some ways than a kid her age should have to be.

Shota usually teachers her in his spare time. His hero work has decreased due to his stacking responsibilities. Last night was the first in close to a month, and he can feel in his sore muscles that it’s been too long. Thankfully, he can rest tonight, but if Nezu didn’t hurry this conference up he’s going to be pulling another all-nighter. The temptation to pull out his sleeping bag and snooze in the chair he sits is becoming harder to resist.

Shota’s gaze moves across the room at the other occupants.

Mic sits to his right, closest to Nezu. The man’s listening, but one can see the bored expression on his face as he picks at his painted nails.

Midnight across the table seems a bit more focused. Her arms rest on her lap as she listens to the white animal, adding in her thoughts every now and then.

Cementoss and Ectoplasm sit next to her, both relatively silent.

Shota’s eyes flick to the chair next to his left before moving to the closed door at the room’s entrance.

Yagi had been here as well. A few minutes ago, he had politely excused himself from the room and had yet to reappear.

Maybe he made a break for it, Shota thinks with envy. Though he knows it’s a lie.

It wasn’t an uncommon occurrence for the Number One Hero to duck out of meetings and public places for short periods of time. No one questioned him on it, assuming he had business calls or the like. He was All Might after all, and surely a very busy man.

But now the Symbol of Peace is dead, and still the brief intermissions continue. In fact, they’re increasing in frequency. Shota has high doubts about the possibility of impromptu hero phone calls from the man’s agency, but doesn’t dwell on it.

Everyone, even All Might, has secrets. It isn’t Shota’s job to nose his way into everyone’s personal life.

His sore eyes blink in mild surprise when the door he had been focusing on slides open, and the man in his thoughts shyly stoops his head under the doorway to enter back into the room. Yagi closes the door again and takes his place beside Shota, moving quietly to attempt not to draw attention to himself. But it’s a wasted effort; whenever he’s present, all eyes immediately are drawn to him. Plus, it’s hard to ignore a 7 foot man.

Shota turns away, attempting to refocus on whatever their eccentric principal is speaking about.

For a while, the meeting draws on as usual, Nezu doing most of the talking and the other teachers providing input as they see fit. The way the conversation is leading, it seems like things are starting to wrap up. Finally. The last class of the day starts at 2:20 p.m. and that doesn’t leave much leeway room for any teachers that need prep time.

Shota leans back with a silent sigh through his nose, crossing his arms. The sooner this is over, the sooner he can go check on Eri back at the dorms, and the sooner he can crash. Thinking about anything other is too hard to concentrate on.

Through his sleepy fog, something moves in his peripheral vision. Instinctually looking over to his left, he notices the lanky man next to him has wilted in posture, much like a plant with no water. The haze in Shota’s brain clears only slightly, having something more interesting to observe.

Now actually taking the time to study the other, Shota notices the haphazard blonde mane looks messier than normal. Yagi’s long, sinewy hands are placed comfortably on his lap, though a subtle tremble is running through his frame. A sheen of sweat is starting to form above his brow. Though his eyes remain fixed on the principal, the unfocused haze in the cyan pools gives Shota the impression Yagi isn’t paying attention. The normally bright irises are dull and almost completely hidden in the surrounding black sclera.

He looks pale. Must be sick. Shota lets his attention drift back to Nezu. Toshinori Yagi is a grown adult; he can take care of himself. If he doesn’t feel well, he’ll go home. These thoughts stubbornly go through Shota’s mind just before another pushes itself in.

He remembers the tall man entering the teacher’s lounge only two days after the Kamino incident. Yagi had been completely wrapped in bandages, bruises and stitched up cuts littering his body, and one arm was in a sling. Everyone had expected him to still be in the hospital, and not back to UA for at least a week, maybe two.

Shota recalls the other teachers chastising the ex-hero and trying to convince him to go home, to rest. Yagi had politely smiled, one that made Shota’s teeth grind at the obvious artificial gesture. The smile didn’t reach his eyes, only present to soothe their worries.  But Yagi thanked them for their concern. Even then, their coworkers had tried to assist him in any way possible. He had always insisted he was fine, respectfully refusing their help. It became hard for their colleagues to accept when it was obvious the injured man was struggling with even the simplest tasks.

Recovery Girl had made frequent appearances, much to Yagi’s dismay. It was unfortunate his body couldn’t handle her quirk, and he had to heal naturally, so she made it her job to monitor him. She didn’t even try to deny she was only there to check in on him, to make sure he was behaving himself, at least to the miniscule level she could except from Toshinori. She was always disappointed, and expressed so outright. But she could do little to sway him in his own self-care habits, and he always waved her off with another deceptive smile.

If he had forced his straining, overworked, body to comply during that time, what’s stopping him from teaching his class in 15 minutes?

More movement next to him puts Shota’s thoughts on pause. Dark eyes flick over to the older man, being as inconspicuous about his spying as possible. With the black hair covering his face, most people probably can’t tell where he’s looking anyway, and he’s not moving his head at all.

One of Yagi’s arms slowly lifts to his face, resting his sharp elbow on the table. The large and scarred hand covers his mouth, baring his bony wrist and too-thin arm as his sleeve slides down a few inches. The pose might be meant to look like he’s simply resting his chin, gaze still locked on Nezu like he’s listening intently. But sitting this close to him, Shota can see how the tremors in his body have increased, sweat starting to run down the deep crevices of his face in tiny rivers. The glazed over look in those black eyes has been replaced by one subtly emitting a fight or flight expression.

Shota frowns. He’s gonna barf. The pro briefly wonders if he should use his capture weapon to grab the trash can in the corner of the room to prevent a mess on the carpet, or worse, the table.

Before he can act, Yagi’s chair abruptly slides backwards as the retired hero wrenches his body up, fumbles with the door handle, and rushes out of the room as quickly as his unstable limbs can carry him. He barely manages to slam the sliding door shut behind him before he’s out of everyone’s sight, the hasty squeaks of his shoes on the tile floor growing more and more distant.

Nezu pauses at the sudden outburst, all the room’s occupants staring at where All Might had disappeared. The feel of concern weighs heavily in the atmosphere.

Although Yagi had often left before, he always excused himself quietly or snuck away when the attention wasn’t on him. Something this dramatic has never happened.

-----

And we’ll leave it there for now! This is still a wip remember, so things may be changed here and there, but I hope this makes up for my lack of other stories!

[teacupfulofstarshine]

pattonella part 12: in which the author hijacks her conveniently comatose character for magical shenanigans

cw: comatose character, minor angst, mention of sleep deprivation

the song referenced in virgil’s visions (linked in the first one) is "soldier, poet, king" by the oh hellos because ya girl is a predictable bitch 

wordcount: ~3.8k

part 1 // part 2 // part 3 // part 4 // part 5 // part 6 // part 7 // part 8 // part 9 // part 10 // part 11 // read it on ao3!!

“you should rest, prince logan.” 

“i will not leave,” logan says. his back and neck hurt like hell from sitting in the same place for hours on end, and his voice rasps from the near-constant litany of song he’s been providing to virgil, but he makes no move to leave his chair. virgil’s hand is pressed between his, cool and limp. 

“virgil will be alright,” remy says. “the magical exhaustion coma sucks, yeah, but it’s not going to kill him. we’ve pumped him full of as much healing magic and medicine as he can stomach, and he’s going to be okay. he’s going to wake up, and you’ll want to be awake and coherent enough to see it.”

“i will persevere.” 

“you will collapse from sleep deprivation, is what will happen. you don’t have to leave the infirmary, but you’re going to be in the infirmary if you don’t eat something and sleep.” 

logan opens his mouth to protest, but remy draws himself up to his full height (which is not much) and says, “you may be the prince of this kingdom, but i am your doctor, and so help me gods you are going to eat a damn meal and you are going to take a damn nap before i force-feed you a sleeping potion.” 

logan blinks, startled, and remy holds firm, crossing his arms. “did i fucking stutter?” 

“no,” logan says, voice quiet. remy sighs, reaching out to mess up logan’s hair. logan sputters indignantly, but remy has always been a parental figure to him, so he doesn’t protest. 

“your worry is admirable, prince logan, but virgil would not want you to run yourself ragged like this. remember his concern when you had a concussion?” 

“of course i do. he doted on me every hour of the day, remy. how can i say that i did not do the same for him? virgil is - he - i -” logan’s jaw works open, closed, open closed as he tries to form a coherent thought from the tangled mess of virgilworryconcerncarelove? buzzing around in his head. 

“you don’t have to say it,” remy says. “i’m married, remember? i’m familiar with what it means to love someone.” logan startles, practically jumping out of his chair. remy laughs, shifting his hand to gently squeeze logan’s shoulder. “no need to sound so offended.” 

“it’s not offense,” logan says. “it - it’s just -”

he trails off as his gaze slides back to virgil’s peaceful face and the even movement of his chest. “virgil has not had many positive things in his life. he had to deal with a suboptimal family life, constantly sacrificing himself to protect patton, and i - i just want him to see - to know that he does not have to constantly sacrifice himself for people to earn their love. i need him to know that he does not have to throw himself into the line of fire to protect his loved ones. and - and i do not want him to feel rushed into admitting that he cares for me. i do not want to presume that i know he loves me, because i do not!” 

“trust me, prince logan, that man is head over his god damn heels for you.” remy smirks, confident, and logan exhales shakily. 

“but i do not wish to rush it. i know that we are supposed to be marrying so that thomas can officially become the crown prince, but - but i cannot force him to marry me. i hope that he wants to marry me, i - i want to marry him, eventually. i do.” it’s the first time logan has ever admitted it out loud; remy’s eyes widen and his face softens. “but i cannot force him to marry me if he does not love me. i will not trap him in a loveless marriage.” 

“please,” remy scoffs. “you cannot look at this man, laying in a hospital bed because he drove himself to magical fucking exhaustion to keep you safe, and tell me that he does not love you.” 

logan squeezes virgil’s hand tightly, exhaling. his eyes feel like lead. 

“you need to sleep,” remy repeats. “the bed next to virgil’s is open. get in and lay down and go to sleep, okay? i promise i’ll wake you at the first sign of trouble.” logan looks at virgil again and sighs, closing his eyes. 

“very well, remy.” he leans over and kisses virgil’s forehead, carefully sweeping his bangs off his face. “you wake me at the very first sign of trouble, you understand me?” 

“of course, prince logan.” remy bows, deep and sarcastic, and logan suppresses a smile. 

*~*~*~*~*

virgil frowns, looking around. he’s in the middle of a blank black void; it looks like the place where he sees his visions, but no visions appear to him. “hello?” he calls. something floats towards him - a girl’s voice, high and ethereal, singing softly. 

there will come a soldier who carries a mighty sword . . .

suddenly, a vision slams into him: roman, clearly no older than two years old, wearing a red baby onesie and holding a little wooden sword. he toddles toward virgil without seeing him, waving his little sword around and giggling. a pair of hands reaches down and gently stabilizes roman when he nearly trips over an unseen obstacle. 

past, his brain whispers. 

he will tear your city down, oh lei oh lai oh lord . . .  

another vision: roman, sitting cross-legged on a bed with patton settled into his lap. he’s rubbing patton’s back and murmuring softly into his ear, probably reassuring him. virgil can’t hear anything they’re saying, but he catches the shape of patton’s mouth as he very clearly says “virgil.” roman smiles, kissing his forehead, and virgil smiles. he’s glad someone is taking care of patton while he’s unconscious.

present. 

oh lei, oh lai, oh lei oh lord; he will tear your city down, oh lei oh lai oh lord . . .

a third vision: roman, much older, probably fifty or so. his hair is streaked with gray, and he’s managed to grow a full beard. it’s neatly trimmed and also greying. roman wears formal attire, a suit with a breastplate and a cape. he has various badges and medals attached to his chest and a sword that virgil recognizes as ceremonial hanging from his waist. roman looks to the side and smiles, offering his arm. patton steps forward, taking his arm, and virgil gasps as he sees the way his brother has aged. 

somehow, patton still looks similar, even though he’s clearly aged. his hair is long, less gray than roman’s and more silver and braided off his neck with flowers. there are crinkles of laughter around his eyes. he’s wearing a sparkly blue-and-gold dress with red flowers embroidered on it, and he has a small golden circlet matching roman’s more ornate one. patton is still wearing roman’s pendant around his neck, and when roman places his hand over patton’s on his upper arm virgil spies a matching gleam of wedding bands on their fingers. 

future. 

the visions fizzle away, and virgil sinks back down into sleep, still clinging to the image of his brother and his husband in the future. 

*~*~*~*~*

patton wakes up slowly. he’s still getting used to the idea that he doesn’t have to sleep on the floor, that he doesn’t have to wake up at the ass-crack of dawn and drag himself into bed at midnight. he wakes up warm and comfortable, sinking into a downy mattress, vision hazy from sleep and lack of glasses. 

he yawns, blinking to try and clear his eyes as best he can, and freezes when he hears someone else breathing beside him. he feels a weight on his waist over the duvet, and someone stirs next to him, the arm on his waist starting to pull him closer, and then patton remembers. 

roman is home. roman is home and he’s here with patton, in patton’s bed, snuggling him and keeping him warm. patton flips over onto his other side, and comes face-to-face with roman. the youngest prince is still asleep, his hair flopped into his eyes, mouth open. a small puddle of drool is growing slowly on the pillow, and he’s not wearing a shirt, revealing his smooth, tanned collarbones. 

patton kind of wants to bite them. 

he snuggles closer to roman instead, blushing bright red, pushing his face into roman’s hair. roman snorts in a breath and presses himself closer to patton. his nose is chilly when it brushes against the warm skin of patton’s neck, and patton shivers a little. 

he dozes in the comfortable warmth of the bed (his bed, roman’s bed, their bed) until roman wakes up with an undignified snort, narrowly avoiding cracking his head against patton’s chin. “mm-mngh-wh-pat?”

“morning,” patton says. he’s practically giddy with joy, and he can’t stop the laughter from spilling out of him, high-pitched and embarrassing. roman smiles at him, sleepy and lazy and so, so besotted, and patton’s pretty besotted himself. 

“oh, vision of loveliness, star that outshines the rising sun,” roman begins, carefully propping himself up on one hand while keeping the other draped around patton’s waist. “loveliest of flowers, shining with the morning dew, face covered with a galaxy of freckles, visage that could launch a thousand ships and set a city ablaze with the light of your smile -”

“stop, stop!” patton laughs, burying his face in his hands. 

“pull your hands from your face like a flower unfurling to the sun, how will i kiss your pretty face if you hide it from me?” 

“but i’m embarrassed!” 

patton feels roman gently wrap his fingers around patton’s hands, carefully peeling them away. “there’s my lovely patton, there’s your pretty face,” roman croons, leaning in to brush their noses together. “may i kiss you, my dearest?” 

patton giggles again. “you may.” roman takes his time, carefully pressing a kiss to the center of patton’s forehead, then the left side, then the right; he kisses patton’s eyelids, his cheeks, his nose, his chin, and almost every freckle he can find. finally, he leans in and presses his mouth against patton’s. both of them still taste like sleep and morning breath, and it’s not the best tasting kiss patton’s ever had but he still treasures it. 

“i’ve missed waking up to that,” roman says. “you are much better to wake up to than a field tent.” 

“was this a one-time thing?” patton asks. 

“kissing? i certainly hope not.” 

“no, no i mean - this.” patton gestures to the bed. “you sleeping in here, with me. is this a one-time thing? do we have to sleep apart?” 

“not if you don’t want to.” roman looks bashful, eyes skittering away from patton’s to look at his chin. “do - do you want to?” 

“absolutely i do,” patton says, words spilling out in a rush of breath. “i hate waking up alone, i - even though i didn’t really have a bed or a bedroom before i was always with virgil, and i - please, ro, please -”

“oh, darling, of course.” roman reaches up to touch patton’s face. “i wanted to make sure you knew that you had your own space as necessary, because you didn’t have any of that before. but if you don’t want to be alone, you never have to be alone again. i promise, patton, i promise, i promise i promise. i swear it to you on my birthright as the third prince of this kingdom.” 

patton feels tears running down his face, and roman carefully wipes them away. “no tears, my darling. i am here now.” 

by the time nate comes in with breakfast, they’ve fallen asleep again, tucked into each other. 

*~*~*~*~*

virgil rises back to awareness slowly, opening his eyes to the same black void he’d seen earlier. he frowns; another vision? they usually don’t come so close together. before he can ponder it any longer, the same haunting female voice from before comes echoing around him. 

there will come a poet whose weapon is his word . . .

a vision, suddenly: logan, barely a year old if that, laying on his back. he’s wearing a dark blue footed onesie patterned with stars, reaching up towards a mobile dangling above him. he’s giggling, opening and closing his little fists repeatedly as he tries to grab the little wooden moons and stars and swirling carvings. he kicks his little feet, and virgil feels his heart swell with joy. 

past. 

he will slay you with his tongue, oh lei oh lai oh lord . . .  

another vision: logan, looking the way he did when virgil last saw him. he’s sitting at virgil’s bedside, holding virgil’s hand. he’s pale, with circles beneath his eyes, and he’s murmuring something to virgil’s comatose body. virgil reaches toward the vision, but it evaporates before he can touch logan. 

present.

oh lei, oh lai, oh lei oh lord; he will slay you with his tongue, oh lei oh lai oh lord . . .

a third vision: logan is sitting at a desk, surrounded by stacks of books and papers. he pushes a hand through his bangs, sighing; his hair is longer now, gathered into a ponytail at the base of his neck and shot through with silver. he looks tired, reaching for his quill to sign whatever’s in front of him. he turns his head to the right, as though someone has called for him. 

virgil can barely believe his eyes as he steps into view. he’s wearing a dark blue shirt with a purple vest, both embroidered with silver. his hair is longer and starting to grey, but he leans in to kiss logan’s head and logan reaches up to touch his face with love in his eyes. virgil gasps as he recognizes that just like his vision of patton and roman from earlier, future-him and future-logan have matching wedding bands. 

future. 

*~*~*~*~*

logan wakes up blearily, rubbing his eyes. he jolts awake the second he regains control of his faculties, throwing off the thin hospital blankets and jerking around to look for virgil. he sighs in relief when he sees that virgil is in the bed next to him, still slowly breathing, still sound asleep. “how long was i out?” he rasps. 

“like, four hours,” remy says, carefully placing a fresh washcloth over virgil’s forehead. “not nearly long enough, but i’ll take it.” emile comes in from the garden, carrying a steaming teacup in his hands. 

“is that for me?” logan asks. emile nods, handing him the cup. he sips it slowly, letting the honey-sweet taste slide over his tongue. “thank you, emile.” 

“you’re welcome. it’s no replacement for sleep, but hopefully it’ll help you a little bit.” 

before logan can respond, there’s a noise from virgil’s bed. logan nearly spills his tea as he twists around to try and see what’s happening. virgil’s face scrunches up, nose wrinkling, and his mouth moves slightly. 

“wh - virgil -”

“. . . soldier . . . mighty sword . . . tear . . . city down . . .” virgil mumbles. his fingers curl in the blankets as his face smooths out again, sinking back into sleep. 

“what was that?” 

“it is possible that he’s having some sort of vision,” remy says. logan frowns, reaching over to gently touch virgil’s shoulder. 

“i’m not sure that i enjoy the sound of that vision . . .” virgil turns his head just slightly, catching logan’s hand between his shoulder and his chin. logan’s heart melts into a puddle of emotion-goo as he leans over to kiss virgil’s forehead. 

“oh, my dearest one.” virgil makes a soft, incomprehensible noise and his face smooths into calm sleep again. logan reaches his other hand up to carefully stroke virgil’s cheek. “rest well, my darling, and heal. i long for the day i can see your eyes again.” 

“sap,” remy teases. 

*~*~*~*~*

virgil isn’t sure why he’s surprised that a third set of visions comes. his normal visions come in threes - past, present, and future - and it makes sense that he would have a trio of visions. a trio of trio, a group of three threes; three is one of the most potent magical numbers, and the kingdom has three princes for a reason. 

there will come a ruler whose brow is laid in thorn . . .

the first vision strikes: thomas, no more than four years old, playing with a cluster of roses. carefully, with his pudgy little child-fingers, he weaves them into a crown and plops it onto his head. it sags askew, flopping into his face, but he just laughs and pushes it back up onto his head. 

past. 

smeared with oil like david’s boy, oh lei oh lai oh lord . . .

the second vision: thomas, flopping onto his bed in exhaustion. someone comes up and sits on the bed next to him, an advisor that virgil vaguely remembers from earlier, when he’d stormed in on the court with a vision of roman’s death burning in his eyes. he thinks their name is joan? they place a hand on thomas’s back, and thomas sighs, sitting up and smiling at them. his mouth forms the shape of the words thank you , and joan offers the crown prince a hug which he eagerly accepts. 

present. 

oh lei, oh lai, oh lei oh lord; smeared with oil like david’s boy, oh lei oh lai oh lord . . . 

the third vision: thomas, sitting on the throne. he’s older, wearing the king’s crown in place of his crown prince circlet. it fits perfectly. he wears a shirt woven from rainbow threads that shimmers in the light, and he has a golden scepter twined with flowers in his hand. someone comes up and kneels before him, and thomas inclines his head. he looks like a true king - wise, just, strong. a good ruler. 

future.

virgil lets himself fall unconscious again. 

*~*~*~*~*

“how long has he been here?” 

“three days,” logan says. “to be more precise, it has been seventy-three hours, eighteen minutes, and twenty seconds. he has been unconscious for one-hundred twenty-one hours, eighteen minutes, and twenty-four seconds.” 

“that’s not good, is it?” patton says. he holds one of virgil’s hands and logan holds the other. roman stands behind patton. one hand resting on his shoulder. patton tips his head and sighs when he feels the warmth of roman’s hand press against his cheek, a comforting, grounding weight. “that he’s been unconscious for so long.” 

“not particularly. statistics show that the longer patients are comatose, the . . .” logan swallows, hard, but patton leans forward and he continues. “the longer the patients are comatose, the less likely it is that they will recover.” 

patton feels his heart sink down to the deepest pits of his stomach. nate, standing at the foot of the bed, makes a soft upset noise. “would you like some tea, lord san - um, uh, i - i mean - patton, sir?” 

despite how shitty he feels, patton lifts his head and smiles at his servant. “tea would be wonderful, nate.” he looks up at roman. “do you want anything, dear?” roman’s eyes widen in shock, and patton gasps when he realizes what he’s done. “i - i mean, um -”

roman’s entire face softens like a newborn lamb, and he leans in to kiss patton gently. “tea sounds lovely, my darling.” patton blushes a bright, burning red, turning to look at logan to try and quell his blush. 

“i would not say no to some tea,” logan says. “could you, perhaps, see if the cook has any sweet buns prepared fresh as well? with some of her fresh jam?” 

nate bows. “of course, your royal highness.” 

“there is no need for such formalities. you may simply call me logan.” nate jerks upright, stammering. 

“wh - n - i - i couldn’t possibly! i - i mean - uh - that - that is to say - i - um - wh -”

“it is alright,” logan says. he smiles kindly at nate, which puts patton at ease. “i understand that it may be a bit of a shock to switch from formal titles to none at all. however, i must insist that at the very least, you call me prince logan.”

“prince roman works just fine for me as well.” 

nate looks overwhelmed with all this new information, but he manages to stammer out an “o - o - of course!” before turning around and all but sprinting to the kitchens. 

“you make him nervous!” patton laughs. 

“i find that is a common theme.” logan seems disgruntled. 

“i’m not scared of you!” that brings a smile to logan’s face, and patton considers his job done for the moment. 

nate returns quickly with a tray containing a steaming teapot, teacups, sugar, cream, and honey. another serving girl follows him with a basket of steaming buns covered by a cloth. there’s a jar of jam and a butterknife tucked into the basket as well. 

“thank you,” logan says, taking a roll and tearing into it with vigor. 

“of course, your royal highness.” the serving girl curtsies and sets the basket down at logan’s feet. “will you be needing anything else, your royal highness?” logan shakes his head, mouth full of bun, and the serving girl ducks out of the infirmary. 

nate carefully pours tea for patton, adding the cream and honey that he’s learned patton loves, and then offers a cup to roman. “how do you take your tea, your - prince roman?” roman smiles. 

“two sugars, a splash of cream, please, nate.” 

they sit and sip their tea quietly for a while. logan on his own eats about five or six sweet buns before he takes a break for air or tea. in all the excitement of the tea and snacks, patton almost misses virgil’s eyes squeezing shut. 

almost. 

“virgil?” 

logan sets his teacup down so quickly it sloshes out onto the floor, leaning forward. virgil groans softly and turns his head back and forth. “virgil, dearest, beloved, it is alright. take your time, i’m here.” patton watches the way logan tenderly brushes hair off virgil’s face, hears the soft way in which the prince speaks to his brother, and leans a little further into roman, smiling; he’s glad that virgil has found someone so lovely to love. 

after a few more minutes of fussing, virgil slowly opens his eyes halfway. “mmmngh . . .” 

“hello, beloved,” logan whispers, tearing up. patton notices that he’s tapping his feet against the floor, rocking back and forth just slightly in his seat, and he hears roman make a soft, approving noise at his brother’s happy-stims. 

“lo?” 

“yes, beloved. it is me. patton is here too, and roman. we’re all here for you.” 

virgil’s head turns toward patton, and he can’t stop himself from crying either. “virge,” he chokes, all but throwing himself forward to hug virgil. he feels virgil press his face into his hair, and patton hugs him as best as he can. 

it feels like he’s just been cut loose from a massive anchor bound around his ankles. 

[randomguywithwords]

As The Dust Settles: Chapter 22 (Geten X Dabi Slowburn)

Chapter 22: Lost Memories

AO3 Link

Previous Chapters: 21, 20, 19, 18, 17, 16, 15, 14, 13, 12, 11, 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1

–––––––––––

On Friday, Dabi found himself surrounded by four figures, recognising only one by his still-long silver hair like strands of moonlight, his hardened, battle-scarred face and calm expression. 

“This is a nice reunion. I can’t say I remember all of you – mostly because I don’t care to do so, but if Nine let you guys into his special club, you guys are likely decent.” Dabi smirked, eyeing each of them in turn. 

The rightmost one, an imposing wolf-man gave a growl. “Decent? I’ll show you decent.”

“Chimera,” Nine, to his left, spoke softly. To Dabi’s surprise, the subordinate huffed and stayed silent. Turning back to face Dabi, Nine said, “It has indeed been a while. You understand the logistics of this experiment?”

“Shigaraki put me to it, of course I do.” 

“Then let us proceed.” Nine stepped towards him, while his minions tensed up. 

“Nine, are you sure about this?” The skinny man directed a glare towards Dabi. Dabi didn’t need that to tell him they were suspicious of him. 

“I’ll be in safe hands. We will meet at the location I’ve given you all. Take care, friends.” Nine gave a wave of dismissal, and with some reluctance, the remaining three departed in silence. 

“Alright, let’s go.” Dabi pocketed his hands and began leaving the forest clearing, heading back towards Deika City. He heard Nine’s footsteps behind him. 

“Your demeanour has certainly shifted. What happened to the old Vengeance?”

“Who?”

“You, obviously.”

Dabi racked his brain, but the name didn’t ring a bell. “Well, I don’t call myself that horrible name now.”

“I’ve heard. Numerous cases of burnt corpses or piles of ashes, blue flames. They call you Dabi now. I thought it was peculiar, but it made sense when I could no longer contact your old mentor.” 

“Your squadmate.” Dabi corrected, the fact returning to his memories. As Nine’s voice entered his head, it hummed in resonance with old recollections where he had met the man in his teenagehood. He now recalled the one encounter, out of the few, where Dabi had first seen that calm, controlled countenance contort with rage, born from the ideology he stole. 

“It confused me initially. I wondered why a man you respected and perhaps even cared for would be subject to your flames. The possibilities ranged from hallucinogens to collateral damage. But no.” Nine murmured. “You killed Dabi intentionally, didn’t you?”

Dabi was silent for three seconds, the air cold as winter storms. “You were right,” Touya said. “He left me for dead, but I escaped, and then...yeah.”

Nine sighed. “How poetic. To die by his partner’s hands, as he let his squad die all those years ago. But that brings me to my other question.”

They were drawing near to civilization, weaving through pine trees and stepping over brooks. 

“Why take his name?” 

“Figure it out yourself,��� Dabi said with a forceful tone of finality. “We’re almost reaching the place.” 

To his credit, Nine dropped the subject. Perhaps he did so because he needed what Shigaraki had to offer. Antagonising Dabi wouldn’t be smart.

They were reaching one of the tunnels that led to the Liberation Front’s assembly square, now empty. It was empty, likely only watched by Skeptic’s surveillance. But a few raised eyebrows is all it would draw; Skeptic was too cowardly to question Dabi’s tasks or Shigaraki’s plans. 

“Here?” Dabi heard disgust in Nine’s tone as the musty air rushed out of the opening doors. 

“Can’t let anyone see us. This is good.” Dabi shut the doors behind them. Tapping his earpiece, he said, “We’re good, Doc.”

“I’ve been waiting for a while now,” Ujiko huffed on the other end of the line. “Give me a second.”

“Have a safe trip, Nine, I’ll see you on Monday.” Dabi waved, concealing a grin. 

Nine gave a nod, before Ujiko’s teleportation took hold of his form, and Nine’s body disappeared within the swampy goo. 

Dabi leaned against the wall, feeling more memories return of the other Dabi. The first Dabi. Did I ever know his name? I don’t think he, nor Nine, ever told me. Special forces… all that secrecy. 

He felt his fire ignite on his arm out of instinct. He willed it to die, and instead, let the past engulf him. 

––––––––––

“What’s your name, kid?” 

“Touya.” I rubbed my hands out of instinct. What time is it? How long did I sleep?

“Quirk?”

“I can shoot fire.” 

“Was it you back there? The fire at that mall in the afternoon?” 

“No,” I lied. 

The stranger cocked his head. “I ain’t gonna report you to the police, kid. I’m not exactly on best terms with them myself.” 

“Are you…” The word on the tip of my tongue was like a matchstick to a fuse. 

“A villain?” He scoffed. “I just fixed you up and gave you a place to sleep for the night. Do I look like one?” 

I looked him up and down. Grey coat, green goggles on his forehead, a cigarette in his hand. “No,” I said. 

“Well, your perception needs some work.” He leaned back on the creaky folding chair. “Officially, I’m considered one, but unlike the thugs in alleys like this, I have standards. And I don’t take kids hostage, even if you’re Endeavour’s kid.” 

I backed away, my back slamming against the mouldy bricks. “How did you —“ 

“Please, a fire quirk, and recent sightings of Endeavour at the same mall that was set on fire? Don’t play dumb with me.” 

“That was his doing,” I argued. 

He took a puff and clucked his tongue. “Now you’re blaming it on your dad? Not very filial.” 

“I hate my dad.” The venom coursed through every word I spat out, which seemed to startle even the stranger.

“Hm, some spirit in you. Well, take that bravado and run off now, why don’t you?” 

“What?” 

He quirked his eyebrow. “You heard me, shoo.” 

“But…” My head drooped. “I’ve nowhere to go. I’m running away.”

“Well, you should have thought of a plan before setting fire to a mall, using that as an escape, and nearly choking to death in the flames you made.” Every word in that sentence made my skin shudder. 

I was desperate, I wanted to say, but desperation would only paint me as prey in the underbelly of society, my next stage of hell that the gods were benevolent enough to throw me into.  

“I can help you,” I decided to say, raising my head, mustering the drops of defiance in myself.

The man snorted. “How exactly does a 13 year old kid benefit me? I don’t do teams, boy.” 

“What if I beat you in a fight?” I clenched my fists, which still stung from the wounds. 

He scanned my form and the guise of confidence on my face. “Oh, so you were trained by Endeavour. I thought you were one of those prissy boys enjoying a rich life.”

My face drained of heat and colour. How did he know?

“Look, I’m not a smart guy, but I’m smarter than you. I can make my own assumptions, one of which is that I’d win you in a fight. No contest.”

“I…” My voice trailed off.

“How about this?” The man said, throwing his cigarette behind him. “You know hide and seek?” 

I frowned. “Yes. It’s a childish game.”

“I don’t think so. I think it’s one of the best strategies for its simplicity. Let’s play that game. Give me a minute, then go to the nearby park. It’s midnight, no one will see you. And if you get caught by a stray policeman, I’m not saving you again. Anyway, if you can find me, I’ll let you in. Got it?” 

I gulped, hoping this wasn’t dangerous for myself, but considering how I’d be unconscious for a couple of hours and he hadn’t done anything, I felt a sense of trust in this stranger. 

“Ok, tha – thank you. How long do I have?”

“60 seconds. Start counting.” With that, he left the alley. 

1...2...3

Ten seconds in, I wondered if he was simply leaving me as a twisted joke. How far could he run in a minute? What was his quirk anyway? 

Twenty seconds in, I contemplated scrounging this hideout for whatever I could find and running from him, but the guilt of betraying his hospitality stopped me. 

Thirty seconds in, in a moment of panic, I thought he was going to turn me in. What if people died in the fire? I would be held responsible, wouldn’t I? What if everything he said about himself being a villain was a lie?

The minute felt stretched into eternity with the unceasing torrent of worries flooding my mind. But after being frozen in one spot throughout, I heard myself say 60. Taking a deep breath, I got up and left the hideout, entering the cold night. 

––––––––––

Dabi heard the door groan open. He opened his eyes to see a familiar form, shrouded by a recognizable parka hood.

“You?” Dabi frowned. “What are you doing here?”

Geten’s form went rigid, like a burglar who had been caught by a flashlight. 

“I thought...there was a meeting,” She said. 

“And you chose to enter by this tunnel?” His tone was acidly amused. 

Geten didn’t reply for a couple of seconds. “Yes.” 

Dabi sighed. “For a lieutenant, you’re shit at lying. You were following me, weren’t you? Why would you enter an empty place where you know your entrance would be heard so goddamn clearly?” 

“You were in there for a while. I thought,” She caught herself, but relented. “I thought something happened to you. That man. He looked dangerous.”

Dabi’s breath was stuck in his throat. It was his turn to be stunned. “I was fine, alright. I’m just thinking. So, how much did you hear?” He folded his arms in annoyance, but he found it suddenly difficult to muster anger against her.

“Next to nothing, apart from your farewell. What are you doing when the Festival starts?” 

“I’ll be there during the Festival. Don’t worry.” Dabi figured Twice could simply generate a copy of him. Technically, it was the truth. 

“You’re a liar.” The emotion in her words took him aback, as if that really struck a painful chord in her. “You wouldn’t sound so reassuring. What’s going on?” 

Ugh. Shigaraki won’t be happy if I told her. 

“I’m not going to divulge this to anyone. I’ve no intention to, anyway,” She added.

“It’s just a side task, okay? You can handle the regiment just fine.”

Geten was quiet, then she spoke, “Can we continue this somewhere else?”

“Why?”

“Wouldn’t want to make the amateur mistake you did when speaking to that man.” She gestured around them. 

Ah. Dabi had an idea what she intended to say. “If you say so. Where’s a good place?” 

But Geten responded only by opening the door and motioned for him to follow. 

[heauxplesslydevoted]

Sweet Fantasy (Ethan x f!MC)

Summary: Ethan and Naomi pull an all nighter to work on a case.

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: NSFW. Literally office sex, the type of sex we deserve in book 2.

Tags: @canknot @lapisreviewsstuff @x-kyne-x @paulfwesley @ramseyandrys @choicesobsessedd @a-i-n-a-a-s-h @sparklinglilac  @cream-ray @perriewinklenerdie @barricades-of-freedom @dr-brianna-casey-valentine @doroshi-desu

~~/~~

“I’m glad we settled on takeout, because I cannot eat anymore hospital cafeteria food.”

Ethan looks up from the stack of papers on his desk and at Naomi, who’s sitting on the small couch in his office, happily eating her second slice of pizza.

“I’m glad you’re enjoying.”

The two doctors have been working in Ethan’s office for the past 6 hours, working on a particularly difficult case. A patient of theirs is in a coma, and no one can figure out why. So they raided the hospital’s library, pulling all sorts of books, journals, case studies, and files they could get their hands on in hopes of finding something, anything useful.

But it’s just past midnight, and they’re just as clueless as they were a few hours ago, and Ethan can feel his frustration rising. He’s no stranger to difficult cases, but he hasn’t been this lost since working on Naveen all those months ago.

“You know, one of the very first things I told you about myself is thatI’m a pretty observant person,” Naomi starts. “And I noticed that you’ve been staring at the same page for the last 5 minutes, so clearly, you aren’t doing any critical reading right now.”

He glances down at the page and chuckles softly to himself. “Honestly, I think I checked out around 30 minutes ago. And I’m getting a headache.”

“You’re on work overload,” Naomi says. 

“That much is obvious.”

She takes a napkin and wipes off her hands. “Let’s take a break.”

“We can’t afford to take breaks.”

“Would you rather take a 30 minute break now, or crash later on, thus being absolutely no help at all to our patient?” Naomi challenges with a slightly raised eyebrow. “Besides, all work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.”

Ethan sighs. He hates admitting defeat, but she’s right. “So what do you suppose I do during this break?” 

Naomi gets off of the couch and walks over to Ethan’s desk. She runs her fingers across it, appreciating the quality of the aged light brown wood. This is one instance where their height disparity works well, because even though he’s sitting, they’re still eye-to-eye.Reaching out, she softly removes his glasses from his face, her fingertips just barely grazing his temples. “You won’t be needing these.”

Ethan tries to keep his composure. He and Naomi hadn't been this close to each other in 3 months, not since their last night together after her ethics hearing. Since then, they had been the ultimate professionals, careful not to fall down the very tempting rabbit hole of becoming lovers again.

“Close your eyes,” Naomi commands softly, her breath tickling his face.

He does what he’s told, and seconds later, he feels her warm thumbs gently massaging his forehead. “What are you doing?”

“This is one of the easiest ways to relieve tension. I don’t think you realize just how much of it you carry around.”

“Trust me, Rookie, I am acutely aware of just how much tension I have,” Ethan argues with a smirk. “You try being a department head in one of the biggest hospitals on the east coast.”

“So defensive,” Naomi tsks. “You should still take the time to unwind every once in a while. All this stress isn’t good for your health, you know.”

“I do know. I am a doctor after all.”

“Doctors make the worst patients. Always so stubborn and touchy.”

“I am not stub–” Naomi’s thumbs move from his forehead down to his temples, and the rest of her fingers tangle in Ethan’s thick hair. His argument halts right in his throat as his breath hitches at her touch.

“You are,” Naomi insists. “I don’t mind though.”

“Because you are just as stubborn.”

“It’s part of my charm and why you like me so much.” Ethan only snorts in reply, but he doesn’t retort. “How’s your head?”

“The throbbing isn’t as intense as it was a few seconds ago,” he says honestly.

“Good. I’m using my magic on you, and it’s working.”

“Is giving massages a superpower of yours?”

“Yes,” she replies matter-of-factly. “I’m a woman of many talents, Dr. Ramsey. Besides, I did this all the time in med school to keep my brain from exploding, so I’ve become a pro.”

Her nails gently graze Ethan’s scalp and his head drops against his will. A shudder passes through his body and a soft moan slips past his lips at the sensation. 

He opens his eyes quickly, a blush already forming on his cheeks. Naomi decides to stay silent, not wanting to draw any more attention to it or ruin the moment. Instead she just grips Ethan’s hair tighter, eliciting a sharper moan from him. 

She knows she’s playing a dangerous game, but she wants to see how far she can push it, push him. Her hands slide down the sides of his face, tracing his features – his high cheekbones and chiseled jaw covered in stubble – and settle on his neck.

Ethan locks eyes with Naomi and suddenly they’re trapped in a stalemate. Neither of them knows what to do.

Not breaking eye contact, Ethan reaches forward and grabs Naomi by the waist, pulling her closer to him. Her shirt rides up and his fingers slowly glide across the smooth expanse of her stomach, and she sucks in a deep breath in an effort to stay calm.

The air in the room is suddenly crackling with electricity, and Ethan is pretty sure he’s forgotten how to breathe. All he can focus on is how soft Naomi feels, and how good her sweet perfume smells.

His eyes flicker down to her full lips and he wants to kiss her. He’s never wanted to do something so badly, and there’s a physical ache in his chest at the longing. Thankfully he doesn’t have to make the decision as Naomi leans forward and presses her lips to his in a chaste kiss. It’s tentative and for the first time, she’s nervous and cautious around him, and before Ethan can even kiss her back, she pulls away.

“Damn,” he murmurs against her lips as she pulls away. He didn’t realize just how much he missed this — being close to her, kissing her — until now. It feels like a dormant flame has been reignited and he doesn’t know if he’ll be able to stop it this time.

Naomi opens her mouth, probably to apologize, but Ethan doesn’t give her the chance. He takes her by the waist and pulls her back in for another kiss, the sheer force of it nearly knocking her over.

Scrambling, Naomi draws herself into his lap, her legs trapping him in his seat. She wants to gasp, hoping to get some air in her lungs, but it doesn’t seem like Ethan is letting her go any time soon.

His hand travels from her waist under her scrub rob until he feels the small of her back. His fingertips are on fire, every touch of her skin scorching him. Naomi moans at the contact and he takes the opportunity to run his tongue along her bottom lip before pulling it roughly between his teeth. Unable to do anything else, she grinds her hips against his, earning a groan from the older attending.

Eventually she breaks the kiss with a shuddering breath and rests her forehead against his. The only sounds that could be heard were their exhausted pants and heavy sighs.

“I’ve missed you,” Naomi whispers. Ethan’s chest clenches at the rawness in her voice, the vulnerability.

“I haven’t gone anywhere, Rookie.”

“You know what I mean.”

He’d be lying if he said he didn’t miss her as well. Not just the sex, but their shared intimacy. He cups her face between both of his hands, a thumb running across her cheek. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“You promise?”

“I promise,” he assures.

And that’s all she needs to hear. Gripping his tie, Naomi pulls him in for another kiss, just as fervent, but much more desperate.

Her lips travel across his jaw, enjoying the scrape of his stubble across her skin. She traces the shell of his ear with her tongue before whispering, “Do you trust me?”

“Without question.”

“Good.” Naomi removes herself from Ethan’s lap and he groans at the loss of contact. “Stand up.”

“What?”

“Stand up,” Naomi repeats. Her eyes scan the room until she settles on the perfect spot. “Stand against the bookshelf.”

Ethan does what he’s told, despite the confusion. Where was this headed?

Once his back is firmly planted against the tall bookshelf, Naomi removes his tie, letting the piece of silk slide between her fingers. She then wraps it around her head, fashioning it into a hair tie, pulling her curls out of her face. “I hope you’re not too attached to this tie, because I kind of like it.”

“It’s yours,” Ethan says quickly.

Smirking at his eagerness, Naomi slowly unbuttons Ethan’s dress shirt, marveling at every new inch of skin that’s released with the adept work of her fingers. She rids of the offending material once it’s fully unbuttoned, throwing it behind her without a backward glance to where it lands.

“Ethan Ramsey, you are quite the work of art underneath all those pesky clothes,” Naomi says. She nips at his neck and collarbone, eliciting soft groans and grunts from the man. She loves the fact that she can do this, turn such a powerful man into a puddle of goo beneath her feet. 

Her nails rake across his chest and stomach, leaving scratches and tiny crescent shaped indents in their wake. She’s marking him on purpose, and Ethan is too far gone to care. “Fuck, Rookie–” Naomi’s hand gently grazes the front of his pants and the ability to form setences is wiped away completely. He doesn’t think it’s possible for him to get any harder than he is right now, but he had a feeling that Naomi was going to test the limits.

She makes quick work of unbuckling his pants, dropping them to the floor. “Keep your eyes on me, Dr. Ramsey,” she commands, and fuck, the use of his official title in such an intimate moment makes his knees go weak. Her voice is soft, but there’s a firmness there. He knows she means business. “Don’t you dare look away. Deal?”

“Deal.”

“Good.” 

Naomi’s tongue darts out and she swipes it across his chest, taking in the taste of his expensive cologne, his sweat, and something that is just so uniquely him. His abdomen seized at the sensation, especially when she drops down to her knees and gets closer to his navel.

She pulls his boxers down at an alarmingly slow pace, and Ethan is almost certain that she’s trying to torture him to death.

He was uncomfortably hard at this point, dripping precum, but Naomi doesn’t seem to care. She’s humming quietly to herself, her fingernails tracing patterns onto his hips, which are taut with tension. He’s a whimpering mess at this point.

“Naomi…”

There’s a mischievous glint in her eyes as she looks up at him. “Yes?”

“I don’t know how much more of this I can take.”

“How much more of what?” She’s teasing him now, wanting to draw this out as long as she can.

“This, this teasing.”

“What do you want me to do?” Naomi asks innocently. She kisses the area above his pelvis and hips snap against her involuntarily at the contact. “Use your words.”

“Stop torturing me,” Ethan pleads. “Please.”

At long last, she takes him into her mouth, her tongue swirling around the tip. A growl escapes from deep in his throat and he throws his head back in satisfaction.

But that action makes Naomi stop her movements. “I gave you a very simple instruction, Dr. Ramsey. Keep your eyes on me.” Ethan struggles to open his eyes, but he manages. “Thank you.”

She resumes working on him, adding her hand to stroke his length simultaneously. Unable to look away or turn his head, Ethan grabs a handful of Naomi’s curly hair and pulls it roughly. She moans, the sound reverberating against him, heightening the sensation. “Fuck.”

He feels her tongue tracing something on the underside of his shaft. It takes a few times before he realizes that she’s spelling her name.

V

A

L

“Naomi–”

She ignores him, alternating between taking him fully into her mouth and teasing him.

E

N

T

I

The all too familiar tightening settles in his stomach. He’s close. He’s so close, he can almost taste it. His grip on Naomi’s hair only gets fiercer, his knuckles turning white at the force. His hips buck uncontrollably under her touch, but she doesn’t change her tempo at all, maintaining her steady pace. Ethan wasn’t the one in charge, she was.

“Fuck, Naomi, I’m gonna c–”

N

E

A string of expletives leave his mouth as he comes and Naomi hums in satisfaction. That was definitely a new record that she intends to beat in the near future.

Ethans pulls her up and slants his mouth over hers, kissing her hungrily. Hooking his hands underneath her thighs, Ethan lifts Naomi up with ease and carries her over to his desk, not caring about the pages of research he was pouring over just minutes ago.

Once she’s securely on his desk, Ethan tears her scrub top off of her body, admiring the lace covered hot pink bra she’s sporting. “You’re so beautiful.”

“You aren’t so bad yourself.”

“What do you want me to do?” Ethan asks, mirroring the words she spoke to him not too long ago.

“I want you to fuck me, right on this desk,” Ethan.”

“Ethan.”

“Ethan.”

“Ethan!”

Ethan’s eyes snap open and he awakes with a sharp gasp, trying to fill his lungs with as much air as possible.

He looks around and instantly relaxes when he sees that he’s in his office. There’s a hand on his shoulder and he looks up and finds Naomi staring back at him, a concerned look on her face.

“Ethan, are you okay?”

“What happened?”

“I don’t know, I just heard you talking in your sleep.”

Ethan takes in his surroundings. His office is dark, lit only by a few lamps. He’s fully clothed still, and so is Naomi,

“Did I say anything?”

“No, it was just a lot of incoherent mumbling,” Naomi responds.

“I'm sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. It’s late, and you’re tired.”

Ethan isn’t necessarily tired for falling asleep. He’s sorry for having sex dreams about his young mentee. It feels selfish, especially since he’s the one who’s been keeping her at an arm’s length.

“You’re right.” He rubs a hand over his face, trying to shake the thoughts out of his mind and hide the blush creeping onto his cheeks. It’s hard to look Naomi in the eye mere seconds after very dirty thoughts crowded his brain. “Why don’t we put a pin in this for the night.”

“Are you sure?” Naomi asks. “I don’t mind pulling an all nighter.”

“I’m sure. Go home and get some rest. We’ll tackle this with a fresh set of eyes tomorrow morning.”

“Okay.” Naomi tidies up a bit, stacking all of the textbooks and articles she was reading neatly on Ethan’s small coffee table. Before she leaves, she turns to Ethan with a slight smile. “Have a nice night, Dr. Ramsey.”

“You too, Rookie.”

Once she’s gone from his office, Ethan drops his head onto the cool surface of his desk and lets out a shaky breath.

He’s completely and utterly fucked.

[wylanvnneck]

Age Rating: T for Troglodyte

Summary:  Hunger Games modern day AU, Peeta is a policeman and Katniss just broke the law. Kinda. Whoops. 'Tis a oneshot. 

(Also, mentions of nudity in relation to streaking, so if you’re not comfortable with that kinda stuff this isn’t the fic for you.)

On AO3 | Can you spot all the references?

--------------

It was all Johanna’s fault. Against Johanna Mason and alcohol, I never stood a chance.

‘District 12’ was a pretty popular nightclub, famous for its signature drink ‘The Nightlock’, so that’s where Johanna, Madge and I had decided to take Annie for her Bachelorette party, she’d just wanted a small get together with ‘The Girls’ so there we were.

The night began when we all met up at Annie’s apartment to get ready together and ‘pre-drink’, ‘cus there was no way in hell we could afford to buy that many drinks at such a fancy place. We dress up, do each other’s makeup, paint our nails, exchange gossip, tease Annie about her upcoming marriage and take lots and lots of shots in between.

By the time we head out to walk the few blocks to the nearby club we’re decked in the sexiest clothes we own, which for me equates to a little black dress with a lacy feather design on the back that Jo’d forced me to buy on a rare trip to H&M, which apparently made my bod look fab, her words not mine. Madge has gone crazy with the makeup on my face, with black wing tip eyeshadow to match the dress.

She herself is looking elegant as usual in her midnight blue catsuit and heels, while Jo is in a dangerous looking pair of black fishnet tights and a leather top that threatened to slip off and reveal its secrets at any minute. Annie is in her skirt and top, rocking a shiny pair of silver stilettos which for me would have spelt out ‘death trap’, but she pulls it off.

The club is loud and noisy, strobe lights switching colours every few moments, dizzying my senses. While I’m still recovering Jo’s grabbed us all by the hands and dragged us to the bar, even though we’re all pretty tipsy already. Looks like I’m getting smashed tonight, but hey, what better occasion to get drunk at than your best friend’s bachelorette party?

We order our drinks from the hot brown eyed bartender, who’s smoothly mixing beverages and flirting with us as he prepares our drinks, cocktails for Madge and Annie, a Nightlock for me and a Jack and Coke for Johanna.

Annie is blushing and I’m surprised that Annie even recognizes flirting at this point, she and her groom-to-be Finnick having been attached at the hip since freshman year in high school.

Madge is more receptive but we all know that she’s irrevocably devoted to my childhood best friend Gale and that she’d never go further than casual flirting. Johanna of course has no such qualms as she shamelessly responds, with me as an unwilling witness as she chats the guy up and I impatiently wait for my Nightlock.

It’s worth the wait though, the dusky blue liquid is enticing, drawing you in like a sweet poison. This was definitely worth the long queue at the entrance and the rather steep pricing.

Now that I’ve sufficiently imbibed in enough alcohol I’m feeling brave enough to hit the dance floor with my friends and Madge, Annie and I leave Johanna to her conquest and find our way to the middle of the room where the space is packed with sweaty, writhing bodies.

I’m not much of a dancer, but the Nightlock seems to have taken effect and I’m filled with a delightful buzzing sensation so I just give myself up to the music, following along to the seductive rhythm.

My surroundings blur, as people dance around us, couples play tonsil hockey, my friends and I do the macarena and bump hips and I barely notice when Jo returns after having secured brown eyes’ phone number and carrying a fresh supply of drinks.

I’m feeling adrenalized and the buzzing sensation increases with this next round and we’re laughing and panting and the music drowns out everything and the lights are shining and it’s the most exhilarated I’ve felt in a while, considering how run down I am each day after my college classes and part time job at the clinic.

For tonight, I’m just Katniss Everdeen, a free unrestrained rebel.

Hours pass and it’s 2.00 am and we’re staggering out the door, blurry-eyed and red faced. The deserted sidewalk is so pretty and black. The trees are so brilliantly green. Trees. Lights. Life.

I’m definitely hammered.

The rest of the girls don’t seem too sober either, but I’m the biggest lightweight out of all of us so it’s no surprise that I’m so far gone.

We’re giggling and talking and I hear Annie start up a game of Truth or Dare. It’s a teenager’s game but who cares and besides, it’s her night.

Madge starts us off. “Alright Bridesy, Truth or Dare?”

“Truth.”

“Ok, what’s your least favorite thing about Finnick?”

She contemplates this for a while before replying, “I suppose he can be a little too proud of his looks,” she blushes.

The rest of us let out a collective snort. It’s certainly true that Finnick could be more than a little vain, but it was also true that being around Annie made him less so. Besides, when he wasn’t busy preening his blond hair in front of a mirror he was a pretty intelligent and loyal friend.

“I’ll say,” Jo smirks. “Now, ask me one, a Dare.”

Annie dares her to give a 3 minute lecture on safe sex, which ends up with us guffawing as Jo proceeds to explain the science of birth control pills and the mechanics of a condom in a posh British voice that sounds vaguely Australian.

When she’s done and we’ve finally recovered our breath she turns to me, “Alright brainless, Truth or Dare?”

Her black eyes are challenging me, and the alcohol makes me stupid.  

“Dare.”

It’s a testament to how drunk I am that I don’t immediately panic at the devilish gleam in her eyes. We’ve made it about 2 blocks from the club and we’ve still got a few more to go to get back to Annie’s apartment where we’re all spending the night. The streets are mostly deserted but the occasional car cruises along.

“Alright Kitkat, here’s what you gotta do. I dare you to streak around this block.”

At first, my alcohol hazed brain doesn’t comprehend what she’s saying. And then it hits me. Annie and Madge are doubled over with laughter and cheering, the traitors.

My cheeks are red, “You want me to...to strip and run around this entire block?” I ask, just to make sure.

“Yup,” the she-devil responds. “Come on, Everdeen, live a little.”

Easy for her to say, she’d done this millions of times, the worst that had happened was that she’d gotten off with just a warning from a mall security officer that she’d managed to charm. I, on the other hand, have always been extremely private about my body, not that I thought there was anything wrong with it but I preferred not to flaunt it. The dress I was wearing tonight is the most daring clothing I own.

However, tonight, I’m feeling daring. Or stupid. Probably very stupid. But it’s 2.15 in the morning, the streets are practically deserted, no pedestrians are around to see me other than my friends. And after all tonight I had been letting go, throwing off my constraints. Besides, when I’m 80 these’ll be the stories I tell my grandkids, right?

Well if I’m drunk enough to think about being 80 and having grandkids, plural, I’m drunk enough to run around a block naked.

So I do it. I take a quick glance at our surroundings to make sure no one’s around before I reach down and peel off my dress, while my treacherous friends let out ridiculous wolf whistles. I hand the black garment to Madge along with my black boots. The chilly night air hits my body and goosebumps erupt on my skin, pale in the dimly lit street lights as I cover my chest with my arms. I feel the blood rushing to my face.

“Well?” Jo raises an eyebrow at me, as if to say go on then, do it .

I take a deep breath and break off into a run. I feel as swift as lightning. I’m unstoppable. I’m running around the streets of the city in my lacy underwear and no bra as my dress was backless. I’m practically as naked as the day I was born as I race along the sidewalk and I’m burning up and I feel like a girl on fire.

I quickly circle the short distance and I’m just about to make it back to where my friends are standing, howling with amusement at the sight of me. The end is in sight.

And that’s when I hear it. The sound of a car approaching. Oh hell.

The situation gets ten times worse when I catch sight of the vehicle that’s just turned into the street. It’s a police patrol car.

Oh, the universe was a cruel, cruel place.

                                                    * * *

There’s no place to run and no place to hide in the open street. There’s no escape for me, the lone policeman behind the wheel knows it and I know it. So, heart pounding and with a sinking feeling in my chest I simply walk the rest of the way to my now silent group of friends and stretch my hand out for my dress while he stops the car by the pavement and steps out of it to approach me.

I manage to slip on my dress before resignedly turning around to face him, and when I do I’m struck speechless. In front of me is the most handsome policeman I’ve ever seen. Scratch that, one of the most handsome men I’ve ever seen.  

Ordinarily I’d be disgusted at myself for internally drooling so much over a cute guy, but this isn’t ordinary Katniss. So I stare to my heart’s content. His eyes are the first thing I notice, a stark blue, standing out in the dark early morning light. His ashy blonde hair falls in waves over his forehead, and his skin is pale. He also looks pretty muscular, no doubt as a result of regular training. Shoot me now.

I’m so absorbed in staring at him that I almost don’t notice what he’s saying, “Excuse me ma’am, I’m afraid I’m going to have to take you in for being drunk and disorderly.” He sounds almost apologetic, despite his formal tone and his cheeks are tinged slightly red but that’s probably nothing compared to the embarrassed blush on my face.

“Don’t worry Katniss, I’ll call Gale, he’ll know what to do,” I hear Madge squeak from the side while Officer Blue Eyes attaches a pair of cuffs on me.

I turn my head and give her a quick nod before I’m gently ushered into the backseat of the patrol car. The drive is silent and I’m almost completely sober now. No more liquid courage for me, and I’m left feeling disoriented and anxious, starting to panic a little as I resolutely look outside the window as we drive to the station, unseeing of my surroundings.

“So, wild night, huh?” His voice is a slightly husky one. I could listen to it all day. And night. All day and night. Maybe I’m still a little intoxicated.

I let out a dry laugh that sounds rather high pitched, “You could say that.”

“I remember what that was like, you know, back when I wasn’t a cop yet. Highschool seems like a million years ago” He has an easy smile on his face that I can see from the rearview mirror.

“Doesn’t it. Although, I’ve never really been a huge party person. Tonight was an exception.” I wish I could cover my face with my cuffed hands.

I see him look at me through the mirror, blue eyes filled with sympathy. “Whoops, looks like it just wasn’t your night then.”

We’ve pulled up to the Police Station and he’s reversing the car into a parking spot around the back. “I guess not,’ I agree with a wry half-smile on my face.

I’m escorted into the building and it’s practically deserted, the sound of the ceiling fans working filling up the silence as two officers sit hunched around a desk examining a computer screen while sipping on what looks to be mugs of coffee.

Caffeine. I’m jealous.

Officer Blue Eyes exchanges a quick word with one of them and she simply waves back with her hand. He takes me to the back of the room through a short passage that leads to a holding cell, a small square room with barred walls through which I can peek at the corridor that leads to the main office we just walked through. There's a small bench attached to the wall, with a rolled up mat and a pillow on it where he indicates for me to sit. My hands are released from the cuffs and I rub at my wrists.

We haven’t spoken since we got out of the car, but now he says, “Alright then...ma’am, I’m gonna need to ask you some questions.”

“Hit me with it.” I slump against the wall. Might as well get comfy, this was gonna be a long night.

“Ok, well first off what’s your name?”

“Katniss Everdeen.”

“Age?”

“22”

“Are you in college?”

“Yep. But I don’t live within campus grounds.” I give him my address as well.

“Any part time jobs?”

“I’m a part time assistant at Paw Prints Veterinary Clinic.”

‘’Ok great, thank you,” he’s been writing my replies down on a plain spiral notepad. “Give me a minute, I’ll be right back.”

He turns and walks away and as he does a question pops, unbidden, out of my mouth, “Wait. What’s your name?” I’d been trying to read his name tag since we reached the cell but I couldn’t seem to make it out.

“Peeta. Peeta Mellark.” His smile is breathtaking.

I scrunch my eyes closed and let out a soft groan the moment he’s out of sight. Stupid, stupid Katniss. Why didn’t I just say no to that idiotic dare? Why did I drink so much? Why were cops allowed to be hot?

What was wrong with me?

My eyes are still closed and I’m leaning against the cell wall, contemplating my life decisions that had brought me to this moment, when I hear footsteps approaching.

Peeta was back and he was carrying what looked to be a steaming paper cup and a brown paper bag.

“Here, this should help with a hangover,” he hands me the cup through the bars. It’s steaming hot coffee and the aroma reminds me of Heaven.

I’m ravenous and thirsty and I gulp the brown liquid down, relishing the invigorating feeling despite the fact that I’ve almost certainly burnt my tongue.

When I look up again he’s leaning against the bars, watching me with those intense baby blue eyes. I would feel abashed by how impatiently I drank my coffee but I seemed to have reached my quota of embarrassment for the day. Probably even my quota for the year, forget a day.

“So Katniss, what’s gonna happen now is that you’ll be held here overnight until you’re sober and discharged tomorrow morning, most probably you’ll just be given an official warning as this looks to be your first offense.” His tone is calming and helps to slow my racing heartbeat. He’s still clutching that brown paper bag in his hand.

I nod slowly in response. That wasn’t too bad. I could live with just a few more hours in this claustrophobic space.

He hands me the bag. “Here, in case you’re hungry.”

I look at the bag and there seems to be something soft and circular inside. I think of that old cop cliché and I’m almost certain it’s a doughnut. Instead, it’s a soft looking bun and as I’m opening up the bag further the smell of...cheese? Reaches my nose. My stomach gives a low rumble. I really hope it wasn’t audible.

“It’s a uh...a cheese bun. I make them myself,” his voice sounds a little shy and my heart gives a lurch. Who was this man and why had I been deemed worthy of meeting him? Granted, not in the most ideal circumstances, but still.

“You bake?” The question comes out sounding almost accusatory. “I mean, you- you have the time to bake, you know, being a policeman?” and do it really well, judging from the scents wafting my way.

“My dad actually owns a bakery so he lets me come in after hours and do some baking. It’s surprisingly therapeutic after a hard day at work,” his lips quirk upwards on the left side.

“Wow. That’s...wow. The best that I can cook is a pretty mean mac and cheese,” I confess.

He lets out a soft laugh, “Well, that’s a very useful dish. You can go ahead and eat you know, don’t mind me.”

So I do. It’s delicious. The first bite melts me. It’s soft and salty and creamy and absolutely delectable. I involuntarily let out a long, low moan.

He’s looking at me with that quirked mouth and it almost looks like he’s smirking.  “That good, huh?”

“Mhngmm” I garble out. I sound like a chipmunk with food in its mouth but I couldn’t care less.

I force myself to pace my eating this time and manage to intelligibly speak. “So you’re a policeman and a full time baker. Any other super powers?”

“Ah, no. I’m afraid not. Being a policeman doesn’t offer much downtime. I love it though, it’s a pretty fulfilling job.”

But perhaps enough downtime for a girlfriend? I’m tempted to ask, which is ridiculous. It’s none of my business if he's dating anyone. I’m just the drunken girl he’s arrested and taken pity on, enough pity to keep me company for the moment and even share the best baked treat I’ve had in my life with me.

But who cared what motivated him as long as he was here, right? So we talk and we talk and we talk, exchanging questions then jokes then stories. I tell him about my college classes and Environmental Science course and my part time job at the vet.

I tell him about the little girl with plaited blond hair who’d recently brought in an ill-tempered stray cat named Buttercup who for some reason had instantly hated me and proceeded to scratch me a grand total of 18 times.

He laughs and tells me about his little brother Rye and his first time making bread on his own, which ended up in a charred block of dough. He tells me about a recent case of his where this woman named Effie had sent threatening letters to the wrong lady, a distinguished corporate lawyer, rather than the Starbucks cashier that was actually her husband’s mistress and the hilarity that ensued after she found out.

The conversation is so easy and I’m enamoured by this man and the last thought to enter my head before he eventually gets called away and has to leave and I finally succumb to my alcohol induced mini-coma is of a pair of striking blue eyes.

                                                           * * *

A few hours later I wake up to the sunlight streaming through the bars of my cell. I’m groggy and my mouth is dry. My hair feels matted with sweat and the dark strands are probably still forming the remnants of a long gone fancy braid. My lacy black dress is wrinkled beyond saving.

“Morning!” Says a male voice that is entirely too chipper.

I blink a few times before I can finally focus on Peeta who’s standing in the now open doorway of my cell.

“Morning…” I reply, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes.

“So, you’re in luck Miss Everdeen, someone’s already come to take you home.”

“Katniss. You can call me Katniss.” I pause. “Wait, someone’s here for me? Must be Gale.”

“That’s the one...a Gale Hawthorne?”

“Oh thank god he’s here. I did not relish having to stay here any longer than I needed to.”

Peeta’s face looks more guarded than it had last night. Or rather, earlier this morning.

‘Yes, well, he’s here, so we can process you out.”

“Great.”

I’m taken to a desk at the front of the office where a middle-aged officer with lengthy dirty blonde hair sits behind the counter, looking bored with the world. He eyes me uninterestedly and as Peeta and I get closer I see that his name tag reads ‘Officer Abernathy’.

Officer Abernathy sluggishly carries out all the formalities and issues me an official warning. There's nothing for me to collect as the only thing I had with me when I was arrested were my clothes. It’d be a long time before I decided to take those off anywhere that wasn’t in the privacy of my apartment.

Peeta accompanies me to the entrance, he is strangely silent but he looks like he is thinking a million thoughts.

I can spot Gale’s Volvo in the parking lot from here, and I can see him walking up to the station entrance to come and get me.

“So, that’s your boyfriend I’m assuming?” Peeta finally speaks as we stand in the doorway waiting for him.

The idea shocks me, although it makes sense that he’d come to that conclusion. Madge used to think that Gale and I were an item too, but he’s always been more like my protective older brother rather than a lover.

“What? Gale? Ew no, that’d be like incest, it’d be almost illegal.”

He raises a lone eyebrow at me, smiling.

Right. I hadn’t exactly shown the greatest sense of distinguishment between what was legal and what was not. I blush in his presence yet again.

Gale comes up to us and his brown eyes are twinkling. “Well, Catnip, I gotta say, when Madge called and said one of you had gotten arrested I thought for sure it’d be Johanna. Guess I was wrong.”

I narrow my eyes at him, “Yes, well, Johanna’s got a worse punishment than getting arrested coming her way when I get my hands on her." I remember the officer standing next to me. “In the most innocent way of course.”

The quirked lip is back. I swear, for me, it was a weapon more lethal than the gun he carries in his holster. I blame that thought on the headache that I am currently dealing with.

‘Right..so uh, I guess this is it.” There’s a sinking feeling in my gut. I would probably never see Peeta Mellark ever again. Unless I decided to get arrested in this area again and hope to spend an hour or two in his company. The idea had merit. But no, I was already on my first official warning and I probably shouldn’t push the legal system.

I stick out my hand to him. He takes it and shakes it gently, his eyes seem to see inside me as they meet mine.

Almost reluctantly I turn away and start following Gale to his car.

“Hey, Katniss.” That husky voice suddenly calls out from behind me. “I’ll be picking you up at 8.00 tomorrow, just so you know. It’s a date."

I whirl around. He’s grinning and he’s got an annoyingly attractive cocky look on his face.

“Oh really? And how would you know where to pick me up from?”

He brings out his spiral bound notepad from his uniform pocket. “In here, remember?”

I flush yet again and this time I know that it’s definitely not the last time I’d be doing it in front of him. Oh no. If I had my way, this sweet, funny, intelligent and handsome officer and baker would be seeing that blush on my face for years to come.

“On one condition. There have to be cheese buns.”

“You got it,” he salutes me, beaming.

I’m walking on sunshine as I quicken my stride to catch up with Gale who’s already started up the car and as I do I hear a voice that sounds suspiciously like Officer Abernathy’s yelling from the station, “Good on you, sonny boy, you don’t see a girl like that everyday.”

                                                       * * *

A couple years later and I’m in a lacy dress once more, white this time, with the added accessory of a bouquet of Primroses. Next to me stands the man who arrested me all those years ago and won me over with a combination of his personality and his insanely good cheese buns. I like to tell him that it’s the buns that were really the deciding factor for me, but we both know that’s a lie.

He leans down and presses his lips to my ear as the photographer stops to reposition his camera.

“You know Katniss, you should have just walked up that aisle in your underwear, it’s my favourite look of yours.”

I glare at him. At least, I try to, but it’s hard with those blue eyes looking back at me.

“Keep up the jokes, mister, and you might not see that look again for a while,” I threaten him.

The smug look on his face is immediately wiped off.

                                                          * * *

I’m not yet 80, just a couple more years to go, but as I look at that familiar pair of periwinkle eyes gazing back at me with love in them, I feel like a young woman again. I turn back to the tiny toddlers playing on the ground in front of me.

Someday I’ll tell them, I’ll tell them the story of how their grandparents met. I’d tell them how Peeta likes to say that the only moral of the story is that you shouldn’t break the law, but I’d say that it was really that you probably shouldn’t play such a high stakes game of Truth or Dare, or simply ‘don’t accept stupid dares.’

And yet, when I look at where it got me, I suppose I should also say that there are certainly much worse games to play.

[maorane]

Encounter - I.M (Changkyun)

Chapter 14 : Decisions

Prologue - Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 -Chapter 4 - Chapter 5- Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8 - Chapter 9 - Chapter 10 - Chapter 11 - Chapter 12 - Chapter 13 - Chapter 14

Warning : Suggestive

One week past since our little argument and things were kind of awkward. This is exactly what i didn’t want to happen and once again Changkyun was a step before me and caught me out of guard. I wasn’t mad at him, well I was at the beginning for forcing things but he was right, i should have been honest about my feelings even though i still think that it was useless.. Let’s be honest, our relationship is make to be secret and i was agreed about it so i don’t get why he wants to make me change my mind on it.

-Can we talk ? -Yeah..i’m home anyway if you want. - okay..i’ll be there in 1 hour.

1 hour….enough and too much time to go through all possible scenarios about the upcoming conversation. But in all those scenarios only the end was the same, break up, and honestly i wasn’t ready for that. Maybe that’s why i just finished my second can of beer without noticing. When the sound of the digicode echoed in the room, my breath got stuck in my throat.

He was standing at the entrance, doing the same gestures as usual. Removing his shoes, then his cap and his mask, before coming in the living room. Once again I was nervous next to him, like i was in america when the tensions started to grew up.

“Hey” “H…hey” okay that’s not a good way to start thing “listen..if you want to break up just say it straight…i hate long useless explanation” “You know your brain and your imagination will get you in trouble…who said i wanna break up..do you want to break up?” That smile, that cocky smile “No..but i thought..”

“That’s what i said, you think too much babe..there is no way i’m breaking up with you..especially not over something like that..and You were right and i was right too”

“So basically we’re both dumb”

And that’s how we both started laughing. The whole situation was an absurd mess but i’m glad that we managed to go through it somehow.

“So we’re in deadlock…what are we gonna do ?” I asked, feeling comfortable enough to lean on him a bit. “Try…like i said..let’s try at least once…last time you wanted to go picnic near the Han River so why not.” I closed my eyes feeling his fingers on my arm.. i missed his touch so bad. “Kyun..you don’t need to..” He is making an effort stop being stubborn for once “...okay…let’s try then” i smiled and gave him a peck on his cheek. “ Let’s go then” “Right now ? ….uh….okay…wait..i’ll just put something else.”

I shook my head and went to my room to put a pair of jeans and a hoodie. It was getting cold these days but i didn’t want to be the mood breaker once again.

“ I booked a taxi, he’ll be there in 5min..let’s go.” I tried to hold back my smile when he took my hand and left the apartment. Of course he has his mask back on his face but it wasn’t really important. I didn’t want to admit it but deep inside i was happy that we had our first outdoor date. So yeah it was past midnight, it was cold but we were together outside, having a walk like an almost normal couple. But i was still nervous and felt guilty.

“ I really hope you don’t do it just to make me feel happy but because you want it too” yeah that’s who i am..the girl who’s always overthinking. “ I wanted it too…but maybe i was too afraid to do it. But it’s not that bad to be out.” “Thank you….but only once in a while okay…i’m still too scared to be honest”

Story of dumb and dumber.

After walking for almost 20min, I stopped to a convenient store to buy some snacks and drinks and went back to the spot where we were supposed to meet, but Changkyun wasn’t there. I was about to take my phone to call him and a small flower bouquet appeared from behind me and soft lips went on my cheek.

“You scared me..don’t do that again.” His laugh was music to my ears and we both sat on the floor, facing the river. “Are you okay ?” Changkyun said, wrapping his arm around me, bringing me close to him. “This is more quiet than I expected” “Hum…i’m good..and yeah this is why i wanted to come here with you last time..there is not that many people coming here since it’s far from the convenient store..i use to come here at night when i need to change my mind”

We remained like that for almost one hour, drinking, chatting, laughing, like we were the only one on this planet.

“It’s getting cold, we should go home…you can’t get sick now..especially with what’s coming soon” I wasn’t a starship intern anymore but it was still my duty to make sure that he was good enough for work. “I’ll throw this, can you book a taxi ?” I was about to stand up when his hand grabbed mine, stopping me in my mouvement. “I know the timing is odd, but i kept thinking about this and I need to say it” “What’s wrong ?” “I love you”

I knew already that our relationship was serious and that we shared feelings, but the word love has never been mentioned until now even though we knew each other hearts, but hearing it tonight brought something special. I smiled, holding back a tear, not that i was over emotional but those past few weeks were really complicated and knowing that his feeling didn’t change reassured me.

“ I love you too….now let’s go home i’m freezing” Even in the most romantic situation i had to ruin everything, but this is how we are.

30min later we were finally back home. It was 2am and i was still smiling, feeling the happiest on the world just because of a word.

“I’m gonna take a hot shower…wanna join ?” Let’s just say that i didn’t really gave him time to answer and dragged him with me in the bathroom. No matter how many time we saw each other naked it was the first time we actually took a shower together. That new kind of intimacy was really breathtaking. Being trapped between the wall and his body with the water running on me made my heartbeat raced. I was the one initiated the idea but i was the one being overwhelming by it. When Changkyun’s lips went on my neck, my legs almost gave up if it wasn’t for the wall supporting me. I was weak, i was at his mercy, i was vulnerable but i never been so excited and free. Being desired, wanted was such an amazing feeling.

What started in the shower ended up in the bedroom. That night was on the best night I ever had. Our hearts and bodies reconnected in the most intimate way.

We were both in the bed, spooning, with Changkyun drawing on my hip with his fingertip. I was about to fall asleep when i felt something cold on my chest. I opened my eyes and saw a necklace. I turned to face Changkyun. “I can’t give you a ring right now..so this my pre- engagement necklace. ” “Pre- engagement ? Your mind is really something…but i like it”

And again our bodies became one this night.

[serene-gale]

Shrouded Journey Part 2: A Tale of Poachers

Previous

The hum of wildlife filled the air of Gridania as night fell upon it, the stars twinkling in the sky as fire lanterns washed the buildings of the city in a warm glow. Serene always liked visiting Gridania. It was always such a nice change of pace and scenery from the bustling and arid Ul’dah, however, as much as she wanted to relax a while and drink in the atmosphere, she had work to do.

‘Mother Miounne’, as she was typically called, was busy pouring drinks for the sizable collection of patrons that had gathered in her tavern, the Duskwight humming softly to herself as she finished up with orders, giving her some breathing room, or so she thought until she spotted a red-clad Roegadyn enter the establishment and jovially wave at her. The woman merely shook her head, chuckling, before picking up a Guild Book.

“Serene Gale, Momodi from the Ul’dahn Branch told me to expect you. You slated yourself for a quest in South Shroud, correct?”

“Heya! Yeah, I did, no details on what it was though, mind if you fill me in?”, Serene gave a quick greeting before getting down to business.

Miounne nodded before flipping through her book, taking a few seconds before coming to the quest in question, “Indeed. The quest in question is to deal with the Keeper of the Moon tribes and their illegal poaching. Apparently they are now calling themselves the Coeurlclaws, and have been practically ravaging the wildlife.”, Miounne explained. She took out a writ and started writing down the basic details of the quest, while Serene cocked an eyebrow in confusion.

“Huh...Albex always told me that for as long as he remembered the Keepers toed the line, but never outright performed illegal poaching for as long as he remembered...I’m assuming this must be a splinter group, I highly doubt the entire community decided to up and forgoe their aggrements with Gridania.”, Serene pondered to herself quietly, her words catching the Elezen’s attention as she handed the Roegadyn her writ.

“Oh, you know Sir Couldair? He did make Thanalan his home I guess after...”, Miounne gave pause, much to Serene’s confusion, “Well back to business. We can’t say for certain if it’s just a small splinter group or not, but considering the circumstances, I’d say your assessment hits the nail on the head. I’m impressed Miss Gale, I took you for one of those brawn before brain types, I’m happy to be wrong on this occassion.”, Miounne smiled, her backhanded compliment doing little to budge Serene smile as she laughed.

“Well my pops always said to train the noggin’ as well as your muscles. Or was it mum? Aaah, I think it was more a family saying, you know?”, Serene laughed jovially, causing Miounne to second guess her opinion on Serene’s intelligence. However before any more could be said, Serene asked another question.

“May I ask something? You know Albex through the Guild yes? Where is he now?”, the Roegadyn asked inquisitively.

“Oh? Albex Couldair? Well last I heard he was tracking a high priority target with a large posse of Guild Adventurers. For all I know they could be anywhere but the last bit of information I received told me that they made way for South Shroud.”, Miounne speculated, tapping her cheek lightly, before smiling.

“Who knows, maybe you will meet up with him. Why do you ask though?”, she asked, to which Serene smiled softly at her.

“Oh curiosity’s sake, it’s been a while since we last talked so I figured I’d ask around to see where he is. Anyways, thank you and goodbye for now, I shouldn’t be more than a few days with a request like this. Bye!”, Serene said, waving in an exaggerated manner as she walked out of the tavern, her words causing the Guild Receptionist some concern.

“A few days? But she was on her own and this quest is for two...”, Miounne expressed her worry before shaking her head, “I’ll just have to keep the quest posted in the likely event of failure.”, she muttered to herself before scribbling down notes in her book.

Serene wasted no time in pursuit of her quest, setting out for the Southern sector of the Black Shroud posthaste. Figuring using a hired Chocobo to be the best course of option, she coughed up enough gil for a trip to Quarrymill, one of the larger settlements in the South Shroud. The trip was relatively painless, a few errant monsters stood in the way though Serene deftly fended off such feeble threats with a few menacing looking swipes of her Bo-Staff. Eventually the Roegadyn found her way approaching the village’s borders, spotting the large circular wooden gate that was Quarrymill’s entrance. Hopping off the hire Chocobo, Serene led the bird to one of the public feeding pens and let it partake in some food before running back to it’s starting location. Having left around early to mid morning, the sun was cresting it’s peak and afternoon was setting in, Serene figuring that her time was best spent gathering information on these poachers and striking at them at midnight.

And so Serene got to work enquiring, going about the locals first and asking about recent events, before turning the to the Wood Wailers stationed to guard the village and asking them directly about poaching activity in recent days. Hours passed and slowly but surely Serene started to get a picture of the situation. From what she had gleamed from the village gossip, the Poaching group consisted of a good two dozen members at least, easily the size of a typical Keeper tribe, they were an offshoot of a larger tribe, unhappy with the laws regarding poaching and figuring it only logical to take what wasn’t being taken. She further learned that while the poachers certainly had numbers, most incidents involved with them had members display poor teamwork and a heavy reliance on the decisions of the clan matriarch.

And so it was that Serene’s plan came together. Despite the dangers that came with the Keeper’s exceptional vision, the Roegadyn decided to strike in the dead of the night, while the bulk of their forces were occupied with their poaching. Taking out the clan’s leader would throw the entire hierarchy into disarray, no one individual having the strength to lead the others, and making the sect fall apart.

And so as twilight settled on the treeline of the South Shroud, Serene made her way to the edge of the encampment and lay in wait, using a collection of thick brush off the side of the poacher’s camp for cover. Hours passed with no notable activity on the Keeper’s part, only the occassional patrol served to keep the Martial Artist alert and deathly quiet. Eventually, Serene heard a horn and the hunters of the tribe all began to pack up and leave camp for another night of poaching, this was it.

Waiting a good couple of minutes until all of them seemed to have departed, Serene moved. She had counted 12 heads leave, that meant there was at least 12 left, manageable. As she snuck towards the main encampment, Serene spotted a total of 4 Miqo’te men armed with crude, but efficiently made spears born of the bone of their hunts.

Serene attempted to make her advancement as quiet as possible, making movements that tried to mimic that of a small beast in the wilderness, however the snapping twigs and rustling leaves, while eluding most of the guard, caught the ears of one of the more veteran members of the tribe, who turned and spotted the large Roegadyn sneaking around.

“Oi you! Get that woman!”, the guardsman yelled out loud to his fellow guards and all of them immediately took chase after Serene.

“Shit...”, Serene cursed under her breath and began sprinting. She wouldn’t get another chance at this, if she fled now they would be ready for another sneak attack. The only thing that made sense for Serene was to charge in headfirst.

A pursuit broke out, Serene sprinting at top speed and leaving the guard in her dust, though they weren’t so easily deterred. Eventually, Serene broke through the brush into the clearing of the Miqo’te encampment, in the wake of about 5 to 6 non combatants and the tribe chieftain herself, who was sat upon a large stump which served as her throne. Serene skidded to a halt in the middle of the camp, surprising all around her until the guard finally caught up, a little winded from the chase. The Martial Artist had herself surrounded, much to the amusement of the Chieftess.

“Pffhaha, what’s this? A rat has been chased out of it’s hiding hole. Though by the sheer size of you i guess I should call you a Capybara?”, the Chieftess sneered, to which Serene smirked.

“Well at least your lackeys can see a ‘moving’ target, may need to train them better in the future though. Maybe then you wouldn’t get any pests...also their lack of cardiovascular endurance is worrying.”, Serene jested right back, causing the Chieftess to scowl a little.

“So what do you want here, you giant brute? You don’t seriously believe you’ll get out of this situation you blundered into with witty banter?”

Serene stood up straight and looked to the Keeper Chieftess dead in the eye, “Nah, I don’t have any intention on ‘getting out’ of this situation. No I’m here to put you in your place and knock the daylight out of you so hard your little posse won’t be answering to their precious leader anytime soon. Serene Gale of the Adventurer’s Guild. I’m here to put a stop to your illegal poaching racket.”, Serene pointed at the Chieftain confidently, whom merely smirked and chuckled in response, standing up and sizing up to the Roegadyn, grabbing a gnarled looking axe that sat beside her stump.

“Oh are you? I’d like to see you try that five on one. I’ve always wanted to acquire a giant’s hide, looks like tonight is my lucky night.”, the Chieftess raised her massive waraxe high in the air with one hand before resting it on her shoulder, the lancer guards surrounding Serene all readying their own weapons too. Serene looked around her, smiling to herself before drawing out her own weapon, extending her bo-staff’s length to max with a twist of it’s handle and winking at the Chieftess.

“You betcha.”

Next

[donnerpartyofone]

21 Questions

Tagged by @getoutofmyhouse who had oddly similar answers to mine

Nickname: only the one I use here, that I gave myself--Claire Donner, which has to do with my famous love of cannibalism. Claire is my real first name, though.

Zodiac: I am so very cuspy. I was born at about a quarter to midnight on April 20, so I tend to relate to, and feel insulted by, the suppositions about Aries and Taurus equally. I’m one of those jerks who will tell you astrology is a bunch of hoo ha...and then drone on with my Many Esoteric Ideas about it, so I’ll just stop myself right here.

Height: 5’ nuthin is what I prefer to say...because saying I’m 5 and 3/4′ sounds a little like saying I’m 10 and a half years old.

Amount of sleep: It’s all fucked up. Until I got into my 30s I could, and would prefer to, sleep endlessly. Now I go to bed around 10 (depression), get up around 5 or 6 (being old), and for extra fun, I’ve developed this insomnia that often keeps me up from about 2am-5am. I try make the most of it by getting up, getting high, watching a movie or two, writing...basically just having a secret private day by myself. I’d really rather go back to just sleeping constantly though.

Last movie I saw: I saw GRETA in theaters tonight, which was ok. I guess I thought any Neil Jordan film would be headier than this, but watching Isabel Huppert just running around acting like an absolute maniac is a rare treat! My last video experience was RAW, which I put on to bother my husband right when we got home from the theater. (I think he liked it more than I originally did, to my surprise)

Last thing I googled: The correct spelling of Sylvia Likens’ last name. I’m obsessed with this type of crime where a group of people (usually a family and/or some of their friends and neighbors) fall into some kind of shared hysteria where they protractedly torture to death an acquaintance for no particular reason. Some times there’s an element of mystery as to why the victim didn’t leave while they were still able to, which suggests to me that the murdered person was just as much a victim of the groupthink as the perpetrators. Other example victims include Suzanne Capper, Vera Jo Reigle, and I think to some degree Sophie Lionnet, James Bulger, and Junko Furuta. (Also a crime they briefly discuss in the book Lords of Chaos, where several people murder a friend in their trailer, but I can’t remember it specifically enough to look up the names--the other last thing i tried to google) I keep thinking there should be a psychiatric and/or legal term for this kind of crime, but I’ve never heard one, so let me know if you got one!

Favorite musician: I have trouble with questions that involve ranking anything, so I’ll just say that right now I’m listening to a lot of old White Zombie. I didn’t know anything about their origins as an East Village noise band, and I’m fascinated by the stories about how apocalyptically miserable it was to be in that group. I’m increasingly obsessed with people who work their asses off doing something they barely even enjoy, for what must be borderline spiritual reasons.

Song stuck in my head: Nothing right this second, for which I am very grateful. There’s something awful in my brain that causes me to wake up with some maddening, babyish tune stuck in my head more often than not. It is most frequently the Ten Little Indians nursery rhyme. This is literally killing me.

Other blogs: @anhed-nia, which started as a dumping ground for long posts about mental illness, and turned into almost only movie writing. at some point there was just so much movie shit that i started to feel awkward about posting anything personal there again. i also got @getoffyrass which is a group blog, and a repository for images that make great drawing references. everyone is encouraged to post their drawings, too, although it is seldom used. i still like having it around, for when i have time to draw. my “real” drawing blog is @neveratendermoment but i don’t draw often enough anymore...

Do I get asks: i used to get tons! i really enjoy them, even the trolls to some degree. i must have seemed like more of a regular tumblr geek girl back in the day. also tumblr has just changed a lot since then. my blog was definitely a casualty of Best Stuff First, i think my follower count stopped dead forever right when that happened, and now that practically every single fucking thing on this entire site is either fandom shit or *discourse*, i really have nothing to offer tumblr anymore, anyway.

Blogs following: 1,057. 

Lucky numbers: 2! Also 5.

What I’m wearing: black wool long john pants from Chrome, and a white v neck teeshirt with the words BLACK MAYONNAISE on it in black Rocky Horror font. i live near the notoriously toxic Gowanus Canal, and “black mayonnaise” is the actual term used to describe what’s on the bottom of it, by the scientists who are trying to figure out what to do with it.

Dream trip: i am really excited by travel, it’s hard to pick. i’m hopefully making a dream trip soon though: my father’s mysterious finno-swedish family is from the åland islands, and my husband and i will be planning part of our honeymoon there, whenever that happens.

Dream Job: i think about this a lot, because the older i get, the more i object to the entire concept of having to work to live. i’m into the whole universal basic income thing. i’m at this point where i can barely stand to think about capitalism in any way--like i think about how the need for money is so mortally serious that there’s a lot of physical stuff in the world that only exists because someone was scared of starving, tons of useless products and packaging and factory byproducts and all kinds of fucking straight up garbage that was only invented due to the lethality of poorness. i would rather be left totally alone forever if possible. however, if i HAD to do something and i COULD do anything, it would probably be film criticism. this fantasy takes place in a world where people care so much about what i have to say that i can make a career, not only out of movie writing, but out of only writing about the specific movies i want to write about, referring to nothing other than my personal reactions.

Favorite food: i wish the answer weren’t just “cheese”, but it probably is. also mushrooms. anything cinnamon. i’m a pretty adventurous eater though. the most important thing for me is a variety of flavors and textures.

Languages: english. i took several years of italian in junior high-high school, and did nothing with it. i taught myself to read french pretty fluently, but i would fold right up if someone tried to speak to me. i learned a bunch of swedish on duolingo, shoulda kept it up. i’ll get back to it! i really regret never learning spanish though, so i’m easily torn on what to do with my time.

Play any instruments: clarinet in junior high/high school, also alto sax which i did not enjoy at all, a little guitar. i bought a used electric bass last year that i have really been enjoying, but i feel a lot of guilt around not playing enough. so much of it is just strength training. that’s probably what i like about it, though. also i got a lot of electronic music software and midi controllers and stuff...and then i realized that it could take me months to sort through the thousands of samples i have to program this stuff, and i only got so far into it before i started to get discouraged. i need to get back to it, it’s ridiculous to let that stuff lie around. this is a rare example of me wishing i knew someone local to play with, who could speed me along on how everything works.

Favorite songs: another one of these impossible questions! anybody who is even reading this can probably guess the answers from the handful of music posts i reblog over and over and over. the other night i got all hyperactive and forced my husband to drop everything and listen to “buffalo stance” by nene cherry, which i never ever get sick of. real top contenders for favorite song might be “Stand By the Jamms” by the klf, and this recording, which has gotten me through many difficult hours:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d8k1HsF3EvY

https://www.forcedexposure.com/Catalog/sunray-sonic-boom-music-for-the-dreamachine-cd/STRAWB.003CD.html

Random fact: i’m sure i’m missing out on something really funny and cool, but for now it’s just the well-known fact that i read palms.

Describe yourself as aesthetic thing: man, how do i answer this without being totally pretentious? maybe nobody can! i’m coming up with something really hard to describe but it will be worth it. the other day i watched this insane, completely unnecessary movie about lorca and salvador dali (played by robert pattinson) as gay lovers. there’s a scene in it where lorca does that “pick a hand” thing to dali, and dali picks an empty hand. of course, they’re both poor students who couldn’t be buying any gifts, so they do this obnoxious pantomime where dali pretends lorca actually gave him something--but then it turns out that lorca really DOES have something. he opens his other hand and gives dali...SOMETHING. i don’t know what! they make such a big deal out of it, but what the hell? you see it for a second in this closeup, but it’s shot from like, behind and slightly underneath, and it is just unrecognizable. it’s sort of an orange blob? it’s probably meant to be a sculpture. but, i love the idea of doing the “pick a hand” thing to somebody, and the other person is just like...hey wait a minute, what the fuck even IS this?? 

it reminded me of one of the most amazing things anyone ever did at my school, bard college. this genius art student who I WISH I COULD NAME TO CREDIT HER did her senior project as this like...made up product. i saw them at the senior show, hanging off a spinner rack, like you’d see next to the register in the drug store. they were called Toilet Buddies. they were these plastic, brightly colored objects that looked like toys, but they didn’t have a familiar earthly shape, and because of the title, it was IMPOSSIBLE to imagine what to do with them. so, she gets the lipstick cam from the film department, and shoots this video of herself sneaking some Toilet Buddies into Walmart. then she takes them to the register and BUYS THEM--the baffled cashier looks for them for a while, and eventually just rings them up as a general grocery or something. then in part 2, the artist TAKES THEM BACK TO THE STORE WITH THE RECEIPT AND GETS A REFUND.

so anyway, i see myself as like a fake product--something that looks just familiar enough to exit, and that appears to have a designated purpose, but it’s just kind of cheap and foreign and it becomes nightmarish to try to imagine what to do with it. 

I don’t know if anyone i know will want to do this, but i tag @negativepleasure @moviesludge @former-contender @dimestoreman @thefuzzydave @darkarfs @theoddsideofme @blueruins ...um, i don’t really know who would enjoy this. the ultimate would be @garbagenacht

[thosemultifandomwritings]

Ink Pt. 3 (Peter Parker x Reader)

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Word Count: 1.7K

Warnings: Guns, violence, realized I used a lot of New York lingo so MET=Metropolitan Museum of Art and MoMA is Museum of Modern Art (can you tell I’m from NY lol)

Summary: Soulmate AU where everything you write or draw on your skin appears on your soulmate too

Part 1  …  Part 2  …  Part 3  ...  Part 4

What are your plans on this wonderful Saturday?

It was around ten in the morning and Peter sat at his kitchen table, spoonful of cereal in his mouth as he read the words sprawled on his arm. He took the pen that was currently tucked behind his ear and scribbled back to you.

Probably sleep some more, you?

Peter couldn’t help the yawn that escaped his mouth as he waited for your response. Ten was pretty early for Peter, usually he took the weekends to catch up on the very much needed sleep he lost throughout the week from swinging around New York City at all hours of the night.

I’m on the way to the MET or maybe the MoMA...haven’t quiet decided yet. The weather is great today P, go out and do something!

Peter smiled imagining you wandering around the various art museums and writing to him all about them. Peter felt an itch to get dressed and find himself at these museums, hoping to run into you and just know. Know it was you, that you were the one. But, would he know? Would he feel something? Anything? Or would he have to look around on people’s arms like a crazy person, hoping to see his own handwriting?

“Alright, spill,” Peter heard from behind him, causing him to choke on his cereal and pull his shirt down over his arm quickly. Turning around he was met by the face of his Aunt May, who by the looks of it, had also just woken up. While Peter continued to cough and catch his breath, she walked over to the coffee machine and poured herself a cup. Once Peter had calmed down, she took a sip of her coffee, her eyebrows raising over the brim.

“About what?” Peter questioned, his voice cracking slightly.

“Oh Peter please, you are not very subtle. I’ve been waiting for you to come to me but at this rate, who knows when that’ll be,” May said, raising her hands in the air in despair before placing a few slices of bread into the toaster. Peter continued to look at her in bewilderment causing May to chuckle a bit.

“Peter, no one smiles like a doofus while looking at their own arm. Plus, the amount of pens you have been leaving around the apartment is getting out of hand, I found one in the fridge the other day,” May said, Peter’s cheeks tinging pink, “so spill.”

“So...theres a distinct possibility...that I may have found out I have a soulmate?” Peter said, causing May to let out a small yell and embrace her nephew in a hug. Of course she had speculated and figured it out herself, but hearing her nephew say it out loud made it real, and she couldn’t be happier for him.

“So, tell me all about them,” May said excitedly, grabbing her toast and sitting down next to Peter at the table.

“Well I haven’t exactly...met them yet,” Peter said slowly, his arm stinging slightly as his aunt slapped him on the shoulder.

“And why the hell not?” May asked, looking at him over her glasses, staring him down.

“It’s complicated,” Peter mumbled, rubbing his arm. After getting a small lecture from May, mostly consisting of May calling Peter various forms of the word idiot, Peter retreated to his bedroom where he plopped down on his bed, exhaling loudly.

He wanted to meet you in person, like, really wanted too. Every day that went by, he felt closer to you. But he could only get so close to you without actually meeting you. Talking to you face to face, with words spoken, not written. Hearing your voice, hearing your laugh, hearing you say his name.

As noon rolled around, Peter decided to listen to your advice and get out of the apartment for the day. He didn’t really have a plan in mind, but as he walked by the bus station, he had a longing to jump on the next bus to Manhattan. He tried to justify it by saying that Avengers Tower was there, of course he could go train a bit or maybe bug Mr. Stark to help him improve his web shooters. But he couldn’t deny the tugging he felt throughout his body that he knew was all due to you.

Every since he had discovered he had a soulmate, he couldn’t ignore the ever present pull he felt that always happened to face northwest, towards Manhattan. It was so slight that it was easy to ignore, easy to brush off and get on with his everyday life. But today, it felt different. It was more present, stronger. It was this pull that made him duck into the nearest alleyway, the one that made him pull out his Spidey suit out of his bag and strip down. Before the logical part of his brain could reason with him, he was already swinging in between the two buildings, making his way uptown.

It was a wonderful day in New York City. The temperature was just right, allowing you to comfortably walk through the streets without breaking a sweat or worry about being cold. You took a small stroll through Central Park before you found yourself at the MET stairs. No matter how many times you found yourself at the giant building, it was always different. You had spent many weekends wandering the halls of the art museum and you still found new things to look at every time.

After a few hours of wandering the halls, you found yourself in one of the newer exhibits, one showcasing various beautiful jewelry pieces from around the world. There were necklaces that cost more than triple a year’s rent of your apartment and bracelets that could pay for your entire college tuition. They were all so gorgeous and you leaned in closer to admire an emerald necklace that sparkled in the light. 

Suddenly, you heard a thud followed by a clang of metal, making you stand up straight and turn towards the doorway. The first thing you saw was the guard who had previously been leaning against the wall nonchalantly, slumped on the floor. The next thing you saw was the man standing over him, black mask covering his face. Panic set in as various things were yelled all at once. More men had entered the second, and only other, entrance to the room, all of them brandishing small black pistols.

“Everyone! On the floor now!” The main man yelled, pointing the gun at the closest person to him, which happened to be an elderly lady. As you fell to your knees, you tried to count the people in the room. There were at least four attackers in the room, and counting yourself, nine other people who were now all on the floor. Your breath hitched in your chest as a gunshot rang throughout the room, causing screams to erupt from the various people around you.

You peered around the display case you were crouched behind, hoping and praying that what you were about to see wasn’t a victim. Instead, all you saw was smashed glass, looking up to see that the man had shot the camera down. The men yelled for everyone to throw their phones into the middle of the room, which was a difficult task seeing as your hands were shaking so much. Two men started smashing the glass of the display cases with the handle of their guns, causing various alarms to start blaring throughout the room.

Slowly, you instinctively reached into your pocket. Black pen gripped in your quivering hand, you moved it gradually across your wrist, not wanting to gain the attention of any of the men in the room.

P I’m so scared. I ju

“Where do you think you’re going?!” You heard a man yell, causing the pen to fall from your hands and roll across the floor. He grabbed a girl, who couldn’t have been any older than you, by her hair. She was on her hands and knees, looking as if she had been trying to crawl towards one of the discarded phones. The man dragged her in front of him, the girl hyperventilating as he gripped her hair harder, forcing her head to tilt back to look at him.

“Stop!”

The mans head whipped towards you as you realized your own voice was the one to scream. All around you men were screaming, alarms blaring, people crying, but as the man approached, the world became silent as he raised a gun towards you.

“Trying to play hero, eh?”

This was it. As the cold metal pressed into your temple, the only thought that raced through your brain was that you didn’t want to die. You couldn’t die here. You never even got to...Peter. You would never meet Peter. You would never get to actually see what he looked like. To meet him for the first time and hear his voice, hold his hand.

As you laid on your knees in the middle of the room, the man watching as his accomplices gathered up the jewelry, your first few tears silently fell. How would Peter find out? Would he be watching the news and see the story all about the sad casualty of the MET robbery? Would he write to you only for you to never answer? Or would he feel it? God, you hoped he didn’t feel it.

Your eyes flickered down to your hand, hoping to see something from him. Anything from him. But your arms remained bare, the only words to read were your own.

Suddenly glass shattered all around you, littering the floor with shards as a flash of red and blue somersaulted into the room.

It was him. It was Spider-Man. You had heard all about the crime-fighter who swung from buildings, even saw some videos on YouTube, but had never seen him in person. You saw his eyes flash around the room, his wrists jabbing towards the men spread around the room, webs flying out to wrap around the guns as they flew out of the assailants hands. You saw his eyes flick towards the man standing over you, moving his wrist as if to throw a web his way. But as his eyes met yours...he froze.

A/N: Let me know what you guys think! My ask box is always open for feedback and criticism. Also, requests!

If you would like to be added to the taglist for ‘Ink’ just let me know!

Taglist

@abswritesfandoms , @blackcat-midnight-thatsme , @axielle-suson , @justmilla , @noodleboylester , @squirrellover1967 , @sockywell , @iris-suoh , @tom-holland-imagines-are-us , @issyogirllexie , @embrace-themagic , @monster-alien-chode , @parker-underoos , @sergeantrosabellaswan , @strange-down-here , @yourquirkywitch , @devilmind-angelheart , @11mb0 , @jongdae-jpg 

[enaasteria]

Rabbit // Sehun

We hate each other but we were invited to a mutual friend’s party and were warned to be civil so you complimented my costume and fuck you, i haven’t changed yet.

// Halloween Prompt #2 // Slightly suggestive and a lot of cursing

Serpent [9:48 PM]: @ rabbit where are you?

I feel my bitter drink slowly work its way back up my throat as my phone lights up from a new message in our group chat. My thumb swipes away the notification even though it’s addressed directly towards me—the rabbit. I’m not sure who started it in the first place but all of our names were changed to animals representing our varying personalities. Apparently, a rabbit describes my character but I didn’t really question it at the time.

And I don’t question it now as I ignore the Serpent’s message. He’s an anomaly I can’t figure out and I’ve stopped trying to figure him out because all I’m left with is a throbbing pain. A pain which is, unfortunately, situated in my groin rather than my head. It would be better if it was all in my head because it would make loathing his existence a lot easier. 

“Not going to answer him?” My roommate, Yumi, asks and drinks the last bit of her Old Fashioned before her boyfriend, Dowoon, replaces her empty cup with another. He’s attentive of her and I hide my slight envy on how they complement each other without fault. She gives him an appreciative smile before returning a scrutinizing gaze my way.

I answer, “Nope,” and avoid looking at her because she honestly scares the shit out of me and it wholly fits her nickname of Wolf within the group chat.

“Didn’t Dowoon and I tell you both to be nice to each other tonight? It’s Halloween.”

“I am being nice. I figured if I don’t have anything nice to say, I might as well not say anything at all. Hence, the no response.”

She exasperates a sigh, flicking her raven locks with highlights of silver behind her shoulder before noticing both our phones light up again. “Please for all our sakes, answer him. You know he’s not going to stop unless you respond.”

“And you realize this is enabling his bad behavior, right?”

Serpent [9:52 PM]: @ rabbit. i know u see these messages Serpent [9:54 PM]: oh c’mon Serpent [9:55 PM]: stop ignoring me

Rabbit [9:55 PM]: @ serpent what

Serpent [9:55 PM]: where are u

Rabbit [9:57 PM]: where do u think i am

Serpent [9:57 PM]: where ur supposed to be

Rabbit [9:59 PM]: and where’s that?

Serpent [9:59 PM]: the 80th level of hell Serpent [10:00 PM]: burning within the blazing pits of fiery coal, seared with hot metal until ur skin sizzles and ur organs bubble into a flood of goo

Rabbit [10:04 PM]: i hate u

“I’m leaving,” I say. Grabbing my weekender bag, which is stuffed with the costume I’ve yet to change into, I stand and ignore how my roommate’s patience is wearing thin. 

“You’re definitely staying.” She places a firm grasp on my forearm and seats me back down next to her. Considering she used to be a fighter back in her younger years, I’m clearly at a disadvantage when it comes to strength and strategy. “It’s the first time Dowoon is hosting this damn Halloween party and you and Sehun will play nice or I swear I’ll shove you in a room with him and throw away the key. Seriously—I wish you two would just fuck each other’s brains out already and get it out of your system so the both of you can finally get along.”

I nearly choke on my saliva, watching as she swallows down her favorite drink in a single gulp without one ounce of regret from speaking such heinous and appalling words. “What the actual fuck—”

“You know it’s true. I’ve seen the way he looks at you and the way you look back at him.”

“You mean how I look like I want to murder him?”

“You mean how you want to murder his pants. Don’t lie. I know what you think about at night. Screaming out his name—”

I gasp in a sharp wheeze and it feels like my brain is about to explode from the blistering horror. “I scream his damn name because he sends me these kinds of messages at hours no human being should even be awake,” I exasperate and suddenly feel the need to go rinse my ears with holy water to cleanse what I just heard unwillingly. She knows I lose sleep over this vile man and how he is the sole reason why I have these lingering dark circles under my eyes and have no life to my soul.

But with all my arguments, she doesn’t believe me and gives me a sideways glance. It makes me think perhaps I should find a new roommate for the upcoming year because she’s definitely not making the cut. 

“You know, Dowoon and I started out the same exact way.”

“Please, Yumi. Your worst dilemma was seeing his bare arms and him seeing you walk around the apartment in only a long tee and no pants. You don’t get messages saying you belong in the 80th level of Hell.”

“It could be worse.”

“I can’t even begin to fathom what could be worse than this.”

She snorts and crosses one leg over the other while sitting in her seat. “He could send messages of wanting you naked in his bed.”

I let out a silent scream as the veins in my neck protrude from underneath my skin. She’s relentless with her attacks tonight and I attribute it to the alcohol flowing through her veins. “Why in the world would he ever want me naked next to him?”

“Is that an invitation?”

Serpent.

I wince. My eyes shut tight as I inwardly cringe from hearing his slithering voice slide and slime over my flesh and bones. Yumi leaves me without any protection or aid and makes her way back to Dowoon as if she’s done fulfilling some sort of evil purpose. I draw in a breath before turning around and facing the man seeming to make my life the very Hell of which he speaks. 

My face contorts into a forced smile because of Yumi and Dowoon’s warning. Play nice. Be nice. Pretend nice if it comes down to it. “Sehun.” I look up at him and hate how he’s so goddamn tall and broad and fuck—I need to stop staring at his shoulders.

“Using my name and not Serpent today?”

“I was ordered to be nice to you tonight so maybe you should try it too.”

“Oh, that might be a bit hard for me but I’ll try if you want me to, baby.” He smirks and I know he’s up to no good. He wasn’t given the nickname Serpent for shits and giggles. It’s because he’s sly. He’s too good at maneuvering through menacing tricks and pranks. He’s a demon in human form and has some weird fascination with making my life difficult for his amusement. “Love the costume. You really nailed the half-dead zombie look,” and draws his thumb over the purple-ish circles plaguing around my eyes from the lack of sleep he bequeaths upon me.

My jaw drops to the ground and my irises turn into round orbs because he thinks I’m already dressed up and I can’t believe this is him being nice. I swat away his touch as I immediately snap my lips shut. They pull into a ball to keep myself from saying anything I might regret because I’m more afraid of Dowoon and Yumi’s threat than I am of Sehun.

But I hate how he’s watching my lips move. I hate myself even more on how I’m watching his mouth move, how his thick tongue is peeking out, and how he’s biting down on his plump bottom lip. 

I’m finding it increasingly impossible to follow my roommate’s orders as two words escape without thinking. “Fuck you.”

“Please do.” He sends me a cheeky grin and runs one of his hands through his midnight black hair.

I groan from falling into his honey trap before turning my back on him and grabbing my bag to change in the bathroom. 

Finally by myself, I throw the contents onto an empty shelf. I’m half annoyed and half dreading the night because playing nice with him will truly test the depths of my patience. While I strip off my top layer, I consider just ignoring Sehun for the rest of the evening but like Yumi said, tuning Sehun out only fuels his bad manners and makes him far less tolerable than he already is. 

He likes attention and it’s not like he has to work hard for it. There are tens of hundreds of women waiting for him to just bless them with a glance but for some damn reason—he hates it when I ignore him. He’s irritated when I don’t answer him but when I do, it’s not like he even has anything nice to say. 

Before I can think up of any other solution to get myself out of this unpleasant problem, the bathroom door flies open from someone picking the lock on the other side. Sehun is shoved in and I’m suddenly cramped in the tiny compartment and facing a situation written straight out of a horror novel. As quickly as the door opened, it shuts with a click and with it goes the last bit of my sanity. 

“Figure out how to be nice to each other or you both are not leaving the bathroom.” 

I recognize it as Dowoon’s voice and surmise he’s only an angel to Yumi and not his friends. He doesn’t fit the Puppy nickname at all as I jiggle the door to escape this unholy prison but it doesn’t budge. It doesn’t move no matter which way I turn or twist the knob.

My throaty groans intertwine with the silent air because if Sehun was forced in a few seconds sooner, I would at least be wearing a t-shirt and not only a black bra and jeans. For sure, I will inevitably turn into that bubbling gloop he said I’d be earlier. 

The door becomes my second skin as my forehead connects to the wood and makes small bangs against the surface. I hope if I wish hard enough, I’ll miraculously melt into the door and be free from the monster behind me. But until that happens, Sehun will have to suck it up and just stare at my ass for the time being.

“Are you ever going to turn around?” he asks.

“Are you ever not gunna be a dick towards me?”

I hear him moving about but what I don’t realize is it’s because he’s leaning in towards my ear, whispering ill-fated words which linger on the hairs of my neck. “Then explain what you want me to be and I’ll see if I can oblige.”

I swivel on my heel. Sehun doesn’t move from his spot as he’s perfectly leveled to my height. Our noses are barely touching but he relieves my slight panic by straightening his spine, returning to his grand posture. That damn smirk is smeared across him like ink on paper and if I could, I would bleach it off his face. But the lords have blessed me with no such tool so I’m forced into staring at him. And it’s to the point where I wouldn’t mind calling him Beautiful instead of a Serpent one of these days if wasn’t for him being such an asshole 24/7.

But Sehun does the same. He matches my breaths and mirrors my form, mimicking my habits from how I hold my hands to the manner of which I wet my lips. He’s watching me do this all and it’s odd being under his tight scrutiny. 

I sigh and think the least Dowoon could’ve done before shoveling the giant into the bathroom with me was strip him down to his boxers so the sadistic playing field is somewhat leveled. But alas, that futile desire would make my life a tad too easy. “You can try being nice to me.”

“And what if I don’t want to be nice to you?” Sehun’s toying charms deepens onto his annoyingly attractive face. His focus transcends to the words leaving my lips and thankfully not on my body. It still doesn’t help me in any circumstance as his tall frame blocks my chances in retrieving any clothes.

I fold my arms across my chest but it does very little to cover my skin. “Really? You can’t even manage one night of being friendly with me?”

“Nope. Don’t think I can, baby.”

“And why not?”

“Because haven’t you noticed?” Sehun’s fingers reach out and draws back the locks of hair draped over my shoulders. He makes lines and shapes with his index, trailing them across my collar bones and over my naked arms. His eyes charged with umber locks within mine, reading if I’ll deny him like before or accept his touches without refute. “I don’t want to be nice or gentle with you. I like it when you curse at me. I like it when you’re rough. I like it when you look at me with fire seething through your teeth and lips. So no—don’t think I can be nice to you. Not tonight at least.”

I break away from his attention because there’s an inexplicable change between us and it’s throwing me off balance as I can’t think fast enough on how to respond. As I’ve learned before, it’s probably another one of his games because he doesn’t know how to play nice. He knows how how to play with actions and words.

There’s a silence flowing over us and my instinctual reply is, “Fuck y—” but I stop myself from finishing. I refrain from articulating the exact words from before since it means I’ll be lured into his vindictive ploy again. I’ll be stuck in a haze of perhaps actually wanting him and needing him in a way I rarely ever allow myself to think about. “Never mind.”

The right side of Sehun’s mouth rises and it’s that distinctive expression messing with my insides, lighting it to flashes and sparks. “You hesitated,” he says.

“And?”

“Why did you? Are you afraid to admit you actually think about it?”

“Think about what?”

He intrudes into my space, weaving himself in with ease as my back meets the door. But as the minutes and seconds go by, I don’t feel like I’m trapped in this room with him. I don’t feel stuck and a part of me likes that we’re alone and locked in this bathroom together. 

His face slides past mine at the left with our cheeks a touch apart. His warm air leaves a dance along my flesh. His words create flames blazing on my skin and his voice is low as my face naturally angles towards his so I can hear his every whisper. “That you think about me; that you think about fucking me and that you think about it—a lot.”

My fingers move on their own, latching themselves onto the hem of his untucked white dress shirt. I hold onto the fabric to steady my fluctuating mood and unfortunate for him, his shirt is the only thing within the vicinity I can grab onto considering I’m without one on. 

Sehun welcomes the interaction. He looks to my hands gripping onto his shirt and then back up to my face, enjoying our exchange of teasing conversation and revels in how I don’t deny his sentiments. His mouth lightly presses against my ear from tip to lobe, leaving invisible marks all the way into the crook of my neck.

“And what about you?” I ask.

“What about me?”

“Do you think about me,” I pause, stifling a ragged breath stitching itself into my throat. Because I only want this to happen if we both want it—that he wants me like I want him. “Do you think about me in the way I think about you?”

Sehun’s sharp eyes flick towards me as his soft lips attach themselves to the cuff of my shoulders. They kiss and lick the bone before shifting himself lower. He leaves no patch of skin unturned and takes his time enveloping my layers with his scent and taste. From my clavicle to the nave of my breasts, he creates his own form of arousing art over the expanse of my body and it feels good. He feels good. 

My hands weave into his sable hair as his own hands glide down the curves of my waist and onto my hips. He doesn’t answer my question just yet. He touches me with careful intention and his index and thumb dangle onto the top edge of my jeans. He works the button until it unclasps and slides down the zipper click by click. Whereas his fingers are soft and delicate, his words strike a chord with beats of thunder.

He responds to my curiosity in a form of an ask. He’s slowly leading me to the answer I want to hear as I listen to his tone igniting something of wonder. “Do you know who gave you your nickname in the group chat?”

I barely manage a swallow as I watch him continue marking my lower belly with indescribable craves of kisses. “Who?”

“I did—and do you know why I gave you that nickname?”

I shake my head with a quavering breath as his teeth nick at my flesh and then onto the thinly veiled fabric peeking through from under my jeans. 

Sehun’s tongue brushes up against my belly once more, causing a shivering onslaught of goosebumps traveling down my spine. I can hear him smile through every word as he savors every syllable and letter snaking itself through my vein and vessels. “Because what do Serpents eat for pleasure?” He stops for a moment, halting directly in front of my most sensitive area before etching his line of vision into mine. He whispers a simple answer, one describing exactly what he thinks about me when it’s late in the night—

“They eat Rabbits.”

[trexrambling]

Bite Me (Part 17)

Characters: DeanxReader, Sam

Warnings: Angst (self-hate, shameful thoughts, inner struggles), some fluff to help smooth everything over, lip on lip action, mild language

Overview: You were raised in the hunter life. You fell out of it. It wasn’t your choice to get pulled back in.

Word Count: 1,773

A/N: This is the LAST CHAPTER in my first ever fanfic. There is an epilogue after this, and then it’s all over. I’m both excited to share it with you and sad to have it all be over. Lee and Han (@wheresthekillswitch and @hannahindie) have been betas for this from Day 1 and have encouraged me, caught all my letter errors, and helped me make it to the end. These words, like everything else I write, are for me. Feel free to join me in the adventure.

Read (Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6) (Part 7) (Part 8) (Part 9) (Part 10) (Part 11) (Part 12) (Part 13) (Part 14) (Part 15) (Part 16)

It was a slow endeavor, preparing to leave a place I’d only just started to settle into. I’d felt more safe in the three months that I’d been in the bunker than in the five years I’d lived secluded in my small town. But Castiel’s words resounded through my brain like church bells in a tall steeple, signaling my chance for redemption. And with each toll I slowly packed items in my duffle bag, keeping it all in an empty room of the bunker until it contained everything that I needed. And when that point came, I knew it was time.

I’d hidden my bag in my truck the night before, a small action of dedication to my decision. I’d wanted to wait until another hunt came on our radar so I could opt to stay behind, but things were quiet, and my soul was suffering, and I knew that if I waited any longer that I’d lose my willpower. So I hid the bag and woke up early that morning with as much steel resolve as I could muster.

Dean was already in the kitchen when I plodded in in my bare feet, his fuzzy gray robe bringing a small smile to my face. I walked over to where he was slowly sipping his coffee and tucked myself under his arm, nuzzling my head against his chest.

“Morning,” I murmured, wrapping an arm around his back and pulling the mug out of his grasp with my free hand. I took a small sip and winced at the bitter taste that flooded my mouth. “Would it kill you to put a sprinkle of sugar in here?”

He took the mug back of out my hands. “It might.” His lips brushed against my forehead, sending a shiver down my spine. I slowly rotated until my chest was flush against his, the feel of his arm pulling me closer causing an ache to swell in my chest. I quickly pushed the feeling down and managed to hold the smile on my face.

“What about some sugar from me?”

Dean set his coffee down on the counter behind him and wrapped both of his arms firmly around me, bending his head to bump my nose with his. “I think I could handle that without imminent death.”

I kissed him first, stretching up on my tiptoes to get as close as possible. I wasn’t gentle; a deep need had settled in my brain, and I didn’t hold anything back. Dean let out a small sound of surprise before tightening his arms around me and slipping a hand down to firmly grasp my ass. I involuntarily moaned into his mouth as he kissed me hungrily. He tasted like his bitter coffee, and I drank in his warmth and scent like a starving woman.

Dean slowed our pace until our lips were softly pressing against each other before he pulled away, his green eyes crinkling on the corners as he smiled down at me. “What was that for? Not that I’m complaining.”

I rested my head against his chest and molded my body against his, purposely hiding my face from view. “Just because.” I nuzzled into him and slipped my hands through the fabric of his robe and up under his thin t-shirt, sighing happily at the warmth, mapping the curve of his back with my hands. I gathered my courage. “I…I love you, you know.”

Dean immediately tensed up, and I froze in a panic before his arms crushed me impossibly closer against him. I felt his lips in my hair. “I’m glad you’re here. I didn’t know I needed you until we found you. You mean the world to me, Y/N.” He moved an arm up my side to cup my face, slowly turning my head towards him so my eyes met his. The look I saw in them said everything.

Why am I leaving him?

He was bringing his head down to kiss me again when Sam walked into the kitchen. Dean changed the course of his lips and instead brushed them across my cheek, winking at me as he pulled away and whispering, “We’ll pick this back up later.” My heart clenched in my chest, the pain more deep than being shot with a bullet. I quickly turned to talk to Sam, afraid that my face would start to betray me.

“Hey, Sam. Need me to pick up anything else on my supply run today?” My eyes followed him as he walked to the coffee pot and poured himself a mug. He was freshly showered from his run, his wet hair sticking to the nape of his neck. Sam leaned against the counter and smiled at me, his eyes darting to Dean with a knowing smirk. My heart clenched again, but I held my features firm.

You know you have to leave. You can do this.

“I could use some more protein powder, and we’re running low on milk.”

I wasn’t looking at Dean, but I could practically feel him roll his eyes. “You and your fancy powder. This is why I’m technically more fit than you. I earn my muscles.”

Sam scoffed over his coffee mug. “Right, Dean. Because protein powder makes synthetic muscles. Do you even know how protein works?”

“Do you even know how…it... Shut up,” Dean grumbled.

I wrote the items down on the notepad I kept on the counter, knowing I would intentionally leave it so they would have the list I’d been making all week to go shopping with. The brothers bickering in the background faded to a low hum, and the list in front of me started to go blurry. I braced my hands against the counter and forced a deep breath down my lungs.

“Y/N? Hey, you ok?” Dean’s hand gently found my shoulder before steadily rubbing my back. I looked over at him and managed a genuine, if very small, smile.

“I’m ok. Just tired, I guess.” He frowned slightly, sensing a lie but not knowing what it was. I pecked his cheek. “I’ll be ok. Do you need anything while I’m out?”

Dean grabbed my hand in his and held it until I met his gaze. “You should pick up some ingredients for pie and we can bake one later. And by we, I obviously mean I’ll be the overseer and taste tester,” he said with a wink, drawing a bigger smile from me. “And we’ll talk later, ok?”

I squeezed his hand and went in for a quick hug, pulling away before he had a chance to reciprocate it. “That sounds perfect. Thanks, Dean.” 

I’m going to miss you. I already do. And it hurts.

I grabbed my truck keys off the counter and quickly walked away from them both before the pain could make me change my mind.

“Y/N,” Sam said, making me halt in my tracks and swivel to face him. He set his coffee mug on the counter and looked at me quizzically. “Are you sure you’re ok?”

I looked between the two men, one that I loved desperately and one that I considered to be my best friend. My face softened in fondness for them both. “I’m good, guys. I’ll be back soon. Love you both.”

And though I wasn’t lying, I might have been too fluid with the term “soon.”

Dean sat at the kitchen table, absentmindedly drumming his fingers against the coffee mug, the liquid inside long cold.

“Dude, you’re driving me crazy,” Sam muttered around his mouthful of omelet.

Dean pushed the mug away from himself. “Do you think she seemed…I don’t know…a little off?”

Sam shrugged and took his plate to the sink to rinse it off. “She said she was tired, but she did seem sad. It could just be one of those days. She has them, just like we do.” He stuck the plate and fork in the dishwasher and turned to his brother. “She said she’d be back, and in all the time we’ve known her she’s never lied to us.”

Dean’s brow furrowed. “I trust her. I’m just…worried.” He stood up and haphazardly placed his mug in the sink, not bothering to rinse it out.

“She’ll be fine, Dean.”

Dean ignored him and started the walk down the hall to his room. He knew Y/N, probably better than anyone, and he knew something was wrong. He checked his watch – it had been about fifteen minutes since she’d left, which meant she should be home in at least an hour and a half.

He pushed open his door and walked into the room, immediately freezing at the piece of paper lying on his bed. That hadn’t been there when he left. Dread started to rise in his gut, and he quickly walked over and snatched it off the bed, his fingers crimping the edges as his grip tightened with each word.

Dean, 

I’m sorry. I haven’t wanted to leave since the moment you and Sam saved me all those months ago, but I need to do this. I’m missing a piece of myself, and you helped me find a large part of it, but something is still…empty. And I don’t want this home to have cracks, I want to be fully here. Fully with you. I love you, Dean. I’ll be back. I promise.

Love, Y/N

Dean threw the paper back on the bed and quickly grabbed Baby’s car keys off the dresser. “Sam!” he shouted, jogging back towards the kitchen. “Sammy!”

Sam emerged from the library, his eyes wildly scanning the area for danger. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

“Y/N left, for good,” Dean said, changing his route towards the garage. “Well, not for good, but she needs someone to talk her out of this, and we’re all she’s got.”

“Dean, wait!” Sam called after him. “What are you talking about?”

“I’ll explain on the way. Come on.”

And though they drove around for miles and hours, Y/N’s truck was nowhere to be found. It wasn’t until well after midnight that Sam convinced Dean to go back to the bunker. And it wasn’t until a full month had passed that Dean stopped actively searching for her. But every Chevy truck he saw made his heart momentarily freeze in his chest, and every time he passed a dance studio, he smiled. Dean never stopped looking because Y/N wouldn’t let him. She flitted in and out of his mind on a daily basis, and the hope of her words, the promise that she would come back home, well, that was what kept him going.

-Read The Epilogue-

My Forever Lovelies: @wheresthekillswitch @pinknerdpanda  @emilywritesaboutdean @ruprecht0420 @arryn-nyxx @jotink78 @hiimaprofessionalfangirl @super-not-naturall @aiaranradnay @percywinchester27 @hannahindie @rosie-winchester @nanie5 @feelmyroarrrr @mogaruke @escabell @mrswhozeewhatsis @katymacsupernatural @deanssweetheart23 @oneshoeshort  @claire-of-the-country @greeneyesinlaceandangelsgrace @keelzy2 @angelsandwinchesters @writingmisha @canadianjelly @findingfitnessforme @luulaachops @tas898 @221b-cfordwrites @bluecookiesandbooks @allonsy-yesiwlill @keepcalmandcarryondean @ravengirl94 @dancingring @hollygopossum @charliebradbury1104 @rda1989 @mrsbatesmotel53 @nikkilaf @hexparker @hennessy0274-blog @dixonpotato38 @mickey-m399 @autopistaaningunaparte

Bite Me tags: @sama1314 @mamabear82nd @docharleythegeekqueen @ilikaicalie @sveskee @celahcain  @impala-dreamer @daughterleftbehind @fandomismyspiritanimal @abbessolute @dreymin @li-ssu @jamrsgang @leezhaa @shhhs3cret @smalltowndivajessica @thevioletthourr @blueskybirdy @fallen-castiel @messy-buns-and-shotguns @curlyblondexoxo @ellen-reincarnated1967 @missdestiel67 @jellersquad

[daleisgreat]

The Best of WCW Clash of the Champions

Younger and newer fans of pro wrestling, lend me your ears! I have to let you know how spoiled we are to have so many countless hours of top programming each week featuring marquee matchups/storyline angles. “The Monday Night Wars” between WWF/WCW in the second half of the 1990s changed that and forced both promotions’ marquee shows to consistently put on top matchups and rivalries each week. When I first started watching wrestling in the late 80s the bulk of weekly television put on by WCW and the then-WWF featured primarily squash matches and recaps from the latest big PPV and TV specials. WWF and WCW only had four or five PPVs a year around this time and they usually featured several big matches with many weeks of television buildup. To help fill those three-four month gaps between PPVs, both WWF and WCW did four-five TV specials/mini-PPVs for free on cable a year during this timeframe. WWF had Saturday Night’s Main Event (SNME) and WCW had Clash of the Champions (CotC). Instead of several big PPV-quality matchups over the course of three hours ad-free, these specials were 90-120 minutes with ad breaks. SNME and CotC mostly featured one top matchup, supplemented by other matches featuring top stars, but usually in last minute thrown together meaningless tag matches. WWE released a best of SNME DVD-set in 2009, but today I am covering their Best of WCW Clash of the Champions (trailer)BluRay set they released in 2012.

Dusty Rhodes is the host of this DVD set, and he has a good introduction to the DVD explaining that WCW made CotC free and held the inaugural show to compete directly against Wrestlemania IV as a response to WWE forcing the first Survivor Series PPV to compete directly against WCW’s first PPV a few months earlier. It was a joy seeing Dusty again a couple years after his passing, and he is charismatic as ever, but the rest of his appearances in The Best of CotC are surprisingly lackluster as he sheds no context or insight about the matches he is setting up and merely says a variation of, “here is wrestler A and here is wrestler B, oh-boooyy.” I know I am splitting hairs nitpicking over Dusty’s intros but Diamond Dallas Page did an excellent job with them in the trilogy of Best of Nitro DVDs that I cannot help but feel a little dismayed at Dusty’s performance. Another thing to keep in mind is that even though nearly all 27 matches contained in the Best of CotC (three of which are exclusive to BluRay) have top talent, only a small slice of the 27 bouts have clean finishes. If I recall correctly from watching these at the time I presumed the bookers did this to teach fans that they had to pay the big bucks for the PPV match that did not feature interference. At first I was increasingly agitated to see many excellent matches have run-ins for a quick DQ or tainted victory, but eventually I accepted it as par for the course by the end of the collection.

I want to highlight a few of my favorite matchups on this set. The first match is the main event from the first CotC, and it features one of the first televised matchups of Sting and Ric Flair as the two fought for the NWA World Title and went to a 45 minute time limit draw. The crowd is simply bonkers into Sting as the two put on a clinic in the ring and have several dramatic near falls in the final minutes. The infamous “I Quit” match between Flair and Terry Funk from 1989 is another epic match on this collection, and features a ton of hardcore action and brawling between the two before ECW popularized that style a few years later. Ricky Steamboat and Steve Austin (then with a full head of hair from his “Stunning” days) have an awesome match for the US title with tons of near falls and is one of the few great matches on here with a clean finish. My last top pick on here is a cruiserweight title match between Ultimo Dragon and Dean Malenko that features a good hybrid of Dean’s technical prowess and Dragon’s high-flying acrobatics. Those four matches are the feature bouts that have no cheap interference and left me wanting more. As I alluded to earlier there are many good-to-great matches on here that unfortunately suffer with a awful finish. The Rock ‘n Roll Express and Midnight Express light up the crowd in one instance and Ric Flair carries a young Lex Luger in one of his best matches, but both contests feature cheap DQs. Sting and Flair put on another classic match on here from 1994, but a theme of the match is on Sherri Martel’s presence at ringside throughout, and sure enough she factors into the finish. Two more tag title matches that have a lot of great action with crowd’s engaged throughout, only to be letdown with a lame DQ were Arn Anderson and Ric Flair taking on the Hollywood Blonds and Harlem Heat defending their gold against the Steiners and Lex Luger & Sting. Of the three BluRay extras, only one stood out and that was Ric Flair & Barry Windham taking on the Midnight Express with all four guys being on top of their game and making formula tag team spots stand out in a class of their own to the delight of a rabidly hot crowd.

The matches in here span from 1988-1997. In 1998, WCW introduced Thunder as its second top-tier weekly show to supplement Nitro, and that brought an end to CotC. Seeing how WCW and its production values evolved over the decade was fascinating and they came a long way in that decade, especially in its final few years. While a majority of the matches have awesome wrestling and very engaged crowds, it is regrettably unfortunate to not recommend The Best of WCW Clash of the Champions because of the sheer amount of cruddy finishes. There are four or five standout matches tucked away within that I breakdown above, but you are better suited hunting those down on the WWE Network than shedding out the money for the DVD. Past Wrestling Blogs Best of WCW Monday Nitro Volume 2 Best of Monday Nitro Volume 3 Biggest Knuckleheads Bobby The Brain Heenan Daniel Bryan: Just Say Yes Yes Yes DDP: Positively Living Dusty Rhodes WWE Network Specials ECW Unreleased: Vol 1 ECW Unreleased: Vol 2 ECW Unreleased: Vol 3 For All Mankind Goldberg: The Ultimate Collection Its Good to Be the King: The Jerry Lawler Story Ladies and Gentlemen My Name is Paul Heyman Legends of Mid South Wrestling Macho Man: The Randy Savage Story Memphis Heat OMG Vol 2: Top 50 Incidents in WCW History OMG Vol 3: Top 50 Incidents in ECW History Owen: Hart of Gold RoH Supercard of Honor V RoH Supercard of Honor VI RoH Supercard of Honor VII RoH Supercard of Honor VIII RoH Supercard of Honor IX RoH Supercard of Honor X ScoobyDoo Wrestlemania Mystery Sting: Into the Light Superstar Collection: Zach Ryder TNA Lockdown 2005-2014 Top 50 Superstars of All Time Tough Enough: Million Dollar Season True Giants Ultimate Fan Pack: Roman Reigns Ultimate Warrior: Always Believe Warrior Week on WWE Network Wrestlemania 3: Championship Edition Wrestlemania 28 Wrestlemania 29 Wrestlemania 30 Wrestlemania 31 Wrestlemania 32 The Wrestler (2008) Wrestling Road Diaries Too Wrestling Road Diaries Three: Funny Equals Money Wrestlings Greatest Factions WWE Network Original Specials First Half 2015 WWE Network Original Specials Second Half 2015 WWE Network Original Specials First Half 2016 WWE Network Original Specials Second Half 2016 WWE Network Original Specials First Half 2017