#personally I love getting dicked down then drowned and eaten

[swampstew]

>.>

Save a horse, ride a each-uisge.

/cackles/

EEEUHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHHEEHHEHE

[sky-berrie]

Heartbreak - the batboys

Summary: How the boys (Dick, Jason, Tim, and Damian) react (platonic) when you're broken hearted.

A/N: If you're going through heartbreak over a breakup or rejection I'm so sorry that you're hurting right now. I wish I could take your pain away. Although we don’t know each other, I can say with 100% certainty that you have so much to offer, way too much to waste it on someone who can’t/won’t appreciate you.

If you’re suffering right now, please don't give up. You got through yesterday which means you can do it again today. People often say that every day will get easier, but I know that it doesn't always feel like it; there may be good days and bad days and that's okay. Use that as a reminder that feelings, even negative feelings, don't last forever. But on the bad days, please stay strong. You've worked so hard to heal, don't let it go in vain. Progress may be slow and imperceptible from day to day, but progress is progress and I am proud of you.

You deserve all the love and happiness in the world. You deserve someone who will treat you the way you want to be treated. You deserve better and there is much better out there. If you need to hear it from someone else, take it from our BatBoys. Without further ado, here is how the boys react when you’re going through heartbreak.

Dick

If you’re hurting, Dick is hurting. He’ll do anything to help you feel better. He’ll ask you what you need from him, whether that’s someone to talk to or someone to sit in silence with, someone to wallow and eat junk food with, or someone to hit the gym with.

If you want to talk, he’s a great listener. He's patient and lets you vent and circle around and around as many times as you need, but he never lets you put yourself down. He’ll gently challenge your self-deprecating thoughts.

“Why am I not good enough?”

“Y/N,” he says firmly as he turns your shoulders to face him and leans down to connect with your eyes. “You are more than good enough.”

“Then why don't they want me?” you ask as tears pool in your eyes.

Dick shakes his head. His brows knit together in sorrow. “I don't know and we'll never know. Maybe they're going through something difficult that has nothing to do with you. Maybe they're confused. Maybe they're hung up on their ex. Maybe they think you’re too good for them and they got scared. Maybe they're looking for something different at this point in their life. There are so many possibilities but none of them matter because whatever is going through their head doesn't change anything about who you are. You are still the same amazing person that you have always been.”

"If I was so amazing then they would want me."

Dick shakes his head again. "That's like expecting every person in the world to love the same book, movie, song, food, you name it. Who's that comic book character that you're obsessed with? You're always raving about your hot take on why they're the best and how everyone's sleeping on them. Most people don't see their appeal but that doesn't make you love them any less, does it?"

Dick has a point. It's only a select group of people who share your adoration for your favorite character and that has never bothered you. In fact, that makes the character even more special to you.

If you don't want to talk about it, that's fine, too. If you'd rather consume an unreasonable amount of junk food, then Dick will clear out the local convenience store and be at your place in five minutes. He won't let you make it a habit because he cares about your health, but sometimes you just need a day to drown your sorrows in sugar.

You’re both in your comfiest clothes sitting on the couch under a fluffy blanket, even if it's 100 degrees outside. You'll just turn on the AC so you can be cozy and snug. You lean against him with your head resting on his shoulder as you eat your favorite snack in dejection. If you want physical comfort, then he'll put an arm around you and hold you close until you've eaten yourself into a sugar coma and fall asleep on him.

Dick worries about you and can't bear the thought of you suffering alone. If you laugh together, you cry together. He will be by your side as much as possible unless you genuinely want/need alone time. Eventually you might start to feel like a burden for taking up his time and disrupting his life, but don't bother pretending to be fine just so he'll stop worrying about you.

You put on your best smile, though you feel it faltering. You hope Dick doesn't notice. "I think I'm good now," you tell him. "That was the last of the tears."

Dick doesn't say anything. He just eyes you, a mixture of concern and contemplation on his face as he evaluates the veracity of your statement.

You try to hold it together just a little longer, but you crack and break down in tears again. Dick pulls you in for another hug. "I'm sorry," you mumble against his chest.

"What for?"

"For being so annoying. You must feel like my babysitter."

"You are not annoying, Y/N. You know I love hanging out with you and I know you'd do the same for me, so please, don't be a hypocrite and just let me be here for you."

Jason

Jason is best at supporting you through the anger stage of your grief. In fact, he will perpetually be in the anger stage on your behalf. If you were cheated on, you best believe that Jason will pay said slimy cheater a special visit. He won’t ever tell you about it because you’re probably going to object, but when your friend tells you that your ex was randomly beaten up the day following your break up, you can make an educated guess as to what happened. Jason knows you don’t approve of violence or revenge but it helps him sleep at night. He hates seeing you cry and if you’re crying, he’s damn well going to make sure they’re crying too.

If you’re ready to talk shit about your ex, Jason is your boy. He has a slew of creative insults to call the person who broke your heart and this man does not hold back. “Y/N, you are way too good for that assmonkey bitchface douchebag. They were lucky you even gave them the fucking time of day. Seriously, you are so fucking far out of their league."

If that weasel has the audacity to beg you to take them back? Over Jason's dead body. You are not wasting a second more on that asshole and Jason will make sure of that. If they call or text, he will not hesitate to colorfully tell them off. If they are brave (read: stupid) enough to show up at your place and unlucky enough that Jason happens to be there, Jason is absolutely going to go berserk on them.

Even if your ex didn't cheat on you, Jason won't want you to take them back. He refuses to let you be someone's convenient option. Jason wants you to be with someone who values you so much that the thought of letting you go never crosses their mind.

If you start missing that person and wanting to contact them, Jason will give you some tough love. He will physically stop you by confiscating your phone or having Tim rig it so that it can't call/text or receive from that number.

“Fuck them, Y/N. They’re trash and you dodged a bullet. Don’t tempt fate now.”

You might be craving the feeling of being wanted and chased and you probably have all sorts of wild fantasies of you and your ex rekindling the relationship. It clouds your judgement and makes you forget about all their many negative qualities.

"But maybe they've changed. What if they really love me and I'm reading it all wrong? What if I'm throwing away something special?" you object.

"Have you lost your goddamned mind? First of all, they're a moron who took you for granted. Unfortunately being moronic is an incurable and terminal illness so it's all downhill from here. Second of all, there's a thousand more just like them. If you really want to waste your time on a jackass, at least pick a new one."

Your head says Jason's right but your heart says otherwise and it's written all over your face.

"Y/N," says Jason, a little softer now. He stands directly in front of you with a serious expression. "I know you're going through hell but I've been there and back. I promise everything will be okay. Walk away with your head held high. Let go of them." Jason offers his hand for you to take. "I've got you."

And with his encouragement, you decide to move on. To help you get through this tough time, his go-to tactic is to distract you with all sorts of activities. It’s 3am and you’re feeling sad? Jason’s over at your place in a heartbeat and you’re going for a drive to get your favorite comfort food in your pajamas. You want Jason to get all dressed up and take you to a gala? Under normal circumstances, he'd rather die again. However, Jason will gladly do that if it means you aren't talking to your ex.

Tim

When you're heartbroken, people invariably tell you don't be sad because everything happens for a reason, be glad that you didn’t waste even more time on them, forget about them and find someone who cares about you. Gee, what splendid ideas; why didn't you think of those before? You know they mean well, but feelings don't go away just because you think they should. As a result, you might act optimistic and upbeat around others to spare yourself the well intended lecture.

However, keeping up the facade gets exhausting. Being social or being around high energy people can become an emotional drain. Sometimes you might want to avoid the entire world, save for Tim. It’s easy to be vulnerable with him because he doesn’t tell you how you should feel. Of course, he doesn't want you to be upset, but he understands that you need to grieve and it's okay to feel sad. Similar to how some people can sit in comfortable silence, Tim can sit in comfortable sadness.

"Did you want to do something today?" asks Tim from the driver's seat.

You shake your head wordlessly. You barely had the energy to leave your home today. Anything else would be too difficult.

"That's fine. We can chill at the manor," he says without judgement. He doesn't make you feel bad for wanting to be a hermit and he doesn't try to force you to get back out there before you're ready.

You follow Tim up to his room and you plop down on his bed. If you want some comfy clothes, Tim will toss you something from his drawers or he’ll grab some of his brothers' or sisters' old clothes.

Tim pulls back the covers for you to crawl under. He tucks you in like a child and kisses your forehead affectionately. It makes you feel loved and for a fleeting moment, the pain is gone.

If you want company, Tim will jump in on the other side and you’ll both be idly scrolling on your phones for a while. However, if you're on your phone, there's a good chance that you'll see something that reminds you of the person who broke your heart. If you don't want to talk about it, Tim won't pry. He'll open his arms in case you want a warm safe place to rest. He might rub soft circles on your back if you don’t mind.

If you do want to talk about it, Tim offers a different perspective. Maybe you're plagued by a million "if only" and "what if" scenarios. Maybe you're stuck on things you did or didn't do.

"I screwed everything up. What if that was my once chance at happiness? I wish I could go back in time and do it differently."

Some people like to focus on the positives. "On the bright side, now you have more time for your hobby." Or, "at least you'll save money on expensive dates and gifts."

They might gravitate to the old cliches, "Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all," and "there are plenty of fish in the sea." Unfortunately, none of that makes the pain any more bearable.

Instead, Tim focuses on the negatives. He recognizes that you're always going to find something to dwell on but you can use that to your advantage.

“You are the king/queen/champion of pessimism, Y/N. Even if you did exactly what you think you wish you had done, I have full confidence in your pessimistic powers that you would still find something to regret.”

Maybe something about that resonates with you. Maybe you've always struggled with indecisiveness because you're afraid to make the wrong choice. Maybe you've always felt like you're damned if you do and damned if you don't, so picking one seemed impossible. Now you realize if you're damned either way, then there's nothing to worry about.

“You did exactly what you needed to do at the time,” he assures you. "You are exactly where you need to be right now."

Even though you're understandably still sad, something in your heart tells you he's right. Being here with Tim is exactly where you're supposed to be.

Damian

Damian isn't particularly adept at providing physical or emotional comfort. It's not that he doesn't care, it's just that it’s hard for him to empathize. He sincerely wants to be helpful and tries his best but he can be unintentionally blunt and may come across as insensitive sometimes.

“Why do you want to be with someone who does not want to be with you?” he asks. Ouch. That stings. Did he have to phrase it like that?

“I don’t,” you answer, almost defensively.

“Then for what reason are you sad?”

“Because they don’t want me.”

“But you do not want them either,” he points out, not understanding the issue.

“Yeah, I know. It just hurts, okay?” you bite, irritation creeping into your voice.

"I am sorry you are upset but I am not sorry they broke up with you, Y/N."

You're stunned into silence. How could be he so cruel? To kick you when you were already down?

Then he continues. "You are genuine, thoughtful, generous, strong, and brilliant. You are a once in a lifetime soul. And them? They were nothing but a lowly simpleton who lacked the capacity to offer you the rich and meaningful life you deserve. They were foolish to let you go - likely too foolish to ever comprehend what they have lost - but I am relieved that you will not be condemned to an unfulfilling life with such a halfwit. They were merely an albatross around your neck, preventing you from achieving and experiencing far superior things in life."

That might have been the kindest thing he’s ever expressed to you or anyone else. Given how much pain you are going through, it’s probably hard to believe him right now, but you have to admit that he made you feel at least fractionally better.

“Come now, Y/N,” Damian says, tugging on your hand. “Let’s go play with Titus.”

The two of you are sitting on the couch with Titus in between. Titus is keen and quickly picks up on your emotions. He cuddles and nuzzles into your side as you gently stroke his fur. The warmth of his body grounds you and brings you some peace.

If you need a change of scenery, you and Damian take Titus for a walk. During your walk, you might come across something that reminds you of your ex. Maybe you see a cafe that you used to go to with that person. Your eyes linger on the storefront longingly and your whole body deflates at the reminder.

Damian notices your shift in body language. “What is the matter, Y/N?” Damian asks.

You sigh. “Nothing, I just - Never mind, it’s stupid.”

“I will be the judge of that,” he says, a little teasingly. “Tell me,” he demands.

You take a deep breath. “That was my favorite cafe. I introduced them to it and now it's their favorite place, too. I can't go there without thinking of them or worrying that I'll run into them."

"For once you are right. That is stupid."

"Thanks, Damian," you mutter sarcastically.

"Shall we?" He cocks his head at the cafe.

"Shall we what?" you ask in confusion.

"Go in."

You stare blankly at him. Did he not hear what you just said?

Damian explains, "you can introduce me to this cafe and then you can think of me whenever you come across it. Look, they even have a Puppuccino for Titus."

You give him a hesitant expression.

"Come," Damian encourages. He doesn't want your ex to have any bearing on your life anymore. He wants you to reclaim the things you enjoy. "Even Titus is excited to try it." Titus takes his cue and barks enthusiastically.

You take a deep breath and bravely follow them inside. You look around nervously as Damian peruses the menu hanging above the coffee bar. If Damian can sense that you are uneasy, he doesn't acknowledge it. He casually asks you what you recommend as if this coffee run was as mundane as any other coffee run. His calm demeanor eases your nerves and you start to feel more comfortable. You realize that it wasn't nearly as tough as your brain anticipated. Day by day you make new happy memories with Damian and Titus. Little by little the happy memories outshine the sad memories.

[ghost-bxrd]

Investigating MR again...

Clark Kent - Nope. You already said the Supers are aliens in this AU, and you are speculating MR might get drowned or eaten. Neither is really an option with Superman.

Ghostmaker and Kane - Not much idea who they are, skipping them.

Harvey Dent - Possible, will fit in with the tragic tone in canon, though that seems more of a parallel for redacted...

Cobb - Nope. MR is way too sweet and impractical.

Jim Gordon - Technically possible, but... Just doesn't ring right. Just a feeling.

Also to be taken into consideration - you said MR and Redacted didn't really have much interaction in canon, but would have known of each other. Gordon is unlikely to be known to most of the Redacted possibilities.

Calvin...

Ouch. He fits all the possibilities.

Works for a creepy organization he's getting disillusioned with, has romantic idealism, interested in Dick, entirely the type of guy to jump into a leviathan's tank hoping to survive but okay with the other option. Also connections with Cobb (my vote for Redacted) - would have known of him and might be known to him in canon.

Aside from Ghostmaker and Kane (though the latter has been crossed off the list I think), veryone else has got very valid points here! I love your logical deductions and conclusions 👁️ there’s a lot going on but this theory certainly ties most things together in terms of character and personality! And, you know, the general tragedy of everything ksksksks ✨🌊💚

So now we’re apparently down to three viable candidates. Namely: Ghostmaker (aka Minkhoa Khan), Harvey Dent, and Calvin Rose 🌊

[spitfire-of-the-sea]

Stowaway

This is 100% brain rot and I'm sorry, but also... not. It's a crack-idea that's been living in my head for a while and I'm too braindead from writing supposedly scientific texts and so... I needed this. Listen. LISTEN. This could be a setup for so many so very dumb scenarios and I'm kinda loving it. It could be another series that needs no logic, no context, no setup. So if anybody is as amused by this as me... let me know.

ANYHOW. Stowaway Series Reader x WBP (mostly Ace D. Portgas right now) 1.5k Mostly SFW for now. Language maybe a bit inappropriate. I need to gauge if anybody actually wants to read scenarios with this reader. (And I have SO MANY ideas right now.)

You prided yourself in being an actually quite a smart person. How else would you have survived on your own in the New World for years without getting so much as a scratch? Well, perhaps a couple of scratches, but you still had all your limbs, digits and eyes and that surely had to count for something, right?

Granted, your devil fruit abilities helped you out quite a bit here, as much as you had cursed them after eating what you can only describe as the foulest thing you’ve ever had the displeasure to taste in your life. You had assumed that as nice as the fruit looked, it was probably rotten, thrown the rest away and not even fully realized your mistake when you almost drowned about 10 meters away from the fucking shore. When, however, your savior had run away screaming hysterically and you had caught sight of your reflection in the water… well.

Let’s just say the sudden presence of cat ears in place of your own had been your first clue. Your own tail slapping you in the face as you couldn’t help but panic your second. It had taken you a while to calm down and an even longer time to try and transform to figure out what the hell you actually were now.

A lioness perhaps, big and strong!

Or a tigress, mighty and powerful!

Perhaps even a lynx, quick and agile!

Well.

You had eaten the Neko Neko No Mi, alright. Except, you were small, fluffy and weighed in at 5kg, give or take a couple of grams. No exactly the boost in self-defense-abilities you had hoped for, if anything, you found yourself barked at by dogs frequently now and for some reason you got easily distracted by moving things.

It had taken you quite some more time to come to terms with your predicament but because you are a smart person™ you have found a way to utilize your new powers in any and all ways you could think of. Today, for example, they had been very useful to escape some thugs that were dead-set on catching you and taking all the money you had. Granted, it had been their money before but a) they had stolen it from the villagers b) you were not inclined to return it and c) fuck them. And so you had simply hidden it in a safe location, increased your fluffiness by 100% and decreased your size by 90% and strolled off into the sunset. You’d have given them the finger too as you walked past them but paws were ill-suited to do so. You had, however, managed to make one of them trip over you right on top of the stairs and in a beautiful chain-reaction he had taken out all the five men walking further down.

Satisfied with the utter destruction you had caused – you were pretty sure one of them was crying – you had decided to not take any chances and rest for the night on the safest place in the whole island, knowing they would never venture close to there: The Moby Dick that was currently docked in the harbor.

The Whitebeard Pirates passed by frequently and you were confident they would deal with the thugs and once they did you could return to your little treasure and see where the wind carried you.

And so you snuck aboard – easy, nobody was really caring about a cat and especially not when they were having a party –, looked for a nice place to nap – there was a lovely spot in what you assumed was the mass hall, with a neat little fireplace and a ledge above it -, and promptly fell asleep.

So far, so smart. Right?

Right?!

Except that when you woke up the next morning, you were unconsciously purring your ass off and leaning into a large, rough hand that was giving you the best petting session of your life. That is, until you realized what was happening, your heart stopped, and one of your nine lives was simply done and over with. You flew off the little ledge ass over tits (not that you had any at the present moment), uttering a hissed scream of surprise and landed with claws and teeth bared.

“Oh… Did I scare you?” the man standing in the big, clunky black boots cooed at you. “Look at you, all puffed up and ready to fight. You’re so cute!” he continued and crouched down, and you realized two things:

You were indeed all puffed up. Your volume had increased by 200%, your hair stood on end, your back was arched and your tail was whipping around wildly enough to almost hit you in the face again.

He was naked from the waist up, except for a necklace of blood-red beads and he was smiling at you with the most genuine smile you’d seen the whole year. Perhaps even longer.

You could do nothing against the puffiness – really, it was out of your paws – but at least your heart started to beat again and you could be very sure of that because it was hammering against your chest as if it wanted to leave you and the whole scenario behind. A good idea, actually.

His smile had dazzled you for a moment longer than it should have but now you did the only smart thing: you turned tail and legged it with all you had.

You managed approximately three full leaps before he scooped you up with a hand under your belly – so rude!! – and lifted you to his chest. You ended up with your face smushed against his very warm, very muscular chest and your brain activity momentarily ceased.

“Uff, you’re quick!” he laughed. “How did you even get onboard, huh? Must have snuck on yesterday night.” His second hand landed on your back and he started to pet you with long, calming strokes.

You pressed your paws against his chest – shit, really?! That defined?! – and finally managed to get your face out of his pecs to gasp for air. A barrage of words was already sitting on your tongue, pulling on your lips and you only caught yourself after a half-hissed “You…!”

Right. You were a cat. A cat.

Outing yourself as a random little thief onboard the fucking Moby Dick was not going to go over well, all that kept you from whatever fate these pirates probably deemed appropriate, was your current non-human state.

“Hm?” He stopped his ministrations for a moment and looked at you, his brown eyes curious as he frowned. He had freckles, you realized, and was pretty damn handsome. Then again, you could be biased, he was rubbing your butt at this very moment. “Almost sounded as if you were talking,” he muttered and shook his head.

Remembering that you were actually planning to escape, you pressed away from him with all your strength and hissed, ears flat against your head and claws out. You didn’t want to hurt him but you needed to get away and you needed him to stop rubbing your butt, goddamnitall. He flinched slightly but seemed otherwise utterly unimpressed by the full power of the 5kg you were throwing against him.

“Hey Ace! What do you have there?”

Great. More people, just what you needed. Your eyes darted to the side where another figure had appeared – another man, wearing a white uniform of sorts, a curious expression and a ridiculous pompadour.

“A little kitty-cat,” your captor – Ace? – answered and you extended your claws a bit more. You were neither tiny nor a kitty-cat. “Ouch, would you stop that?” he reprimanded you and got his hand off your ass to grasp your two front paws instead. A questionable success on your part.

“How did it get onboard?” the other one wondered and came closer, looking you over. His expression immediately lighted up and he reached out. “How pretty! Look at those eyes!” You all but melted away from the hand but that only meant you were flush against Ace now and between the sheer panic rising within you and the little distraction you detected as they started to talk to each other, you used your chance.

Sinking your teeth into the hand holding you, you simultaneously pushed off and away from him with your back legs and succeeded in catapulting yourself away from him – thankfully, it worked, he let go of your paws in surprise and a moment later, you were free.

You raced out of there like a bat out of hell, weaving through legs and rounding the corner of the door with enough speed that even with the added grip of your claws you barely made it. Having memorized the outline of the ship you knew exactly where the dock was and so you didn’t waste any time, you jumped up onto and over the railing like a projectile.

It was mid-air that you realized… there was no dock. Only water. The ship had set sail sometime during the night and you could only see the village and the saving dock as a tiny spot in the distance before gravity did what gravity does. It made you drop straight down into the water.

[maibi]

Join The League

Dabi x Reader

Summary: guilt you had been building up inside of you was all a waste of your time and Dabi tried to comfort you

A/N: I have no clue why, but I have a feeling this is a little bith different than what I usually do,, tho I hope you enjoy it!!!

——————————————————————————-

“Join the league”, Dabi said as he held a dagger against your throat while laying on top of you.

“Never”, you spat with a smirk.

Dabi was always trying to convince you to join the league, but you always refused. He had acknowledged your power and found out that he wanted you and only you to join his team. He did his very best, going measures he didn’t even expect himself to go just so you could say yes to him. You always declined his offer, so naturally he didn’t ask it that much anymore. Though not in a nice way anymore. He’d challenge you and he said if he’d win you’d join, but you never agreed to those terms. He just started a fight and you always won, though a part of you was almost convinced he made you win on purpose.

Besides, you were already part of a group. It wasn’t a really known one, but it gave you the feeling of not being lonely and that was something you needed. Being completely alone was dreadful for you. 

“Then you are a sworn enemy and I'll have to slice your throat now”, he said playfully.

“I’d love to see you try”, you whispered as you inched your face closer to his, your throat brushing against the metal blade.

You shot your head back the second he tried to slice you with it, creating an opening to attack him back. You pushed his shoulder hard with your free hand, making him lose balance. You gave him another push in his chest and he fell on his back, allowing you to escape his embrace. 

With quick motions you took a blade, hidden around your hip, and pushed your way on top of him. When he tried to lift his equipped hand you pushed it back down with your foot, not caring about any imprints or bruises it would leave behind. with a swift movement you placed the blade against his throat. 

You inched your face closer to his, breathing heavily. “You’re putting up quite the show. Entertain me the same way next time, will you?”

You slashed the blade in the ground next to his face and stood up. But before you could escape his embrace he pulled you flush against him. “Why not entertain you now?”, he whispered, placing his hands gently around your neck to pull you closer.

You had grown quite accustomed to this kind of behavior that you didn’t even show any form of reaction to it anymore. It would be you glaring at him because he’d always, in some way, make everything sound so sexual.

“Come on, don’t ruin the mood”, he said as he smirked, halting his movements.

“I will cut that smirk off of your face”, you said while trying your best you wriggle yourself out of his arms. 

“Hmm, I’m quite interested in that”, he said while bringing his grip to your waist, making you jolt slightly. 

“Go get your dick wet somewhere else”, you said as you were finally able to release yourself from his grip. His flirty behavior has been something that didn’t go unnoticed. He’d be like this all the time, but even if you didn’t like to admit it, you secretly enjoyed his flirt and teasing habits. 

“You make me crazy”, he said behind you with a laugh.

“I know I do”, you confidently said, not turning back to look at him.

“Join the league”, he randomly added again.

“Perhaps in your dreams”, you said before really leaving him there and turning around the corner to have yet another exploring day in the city to clear your head. 

It was every time you saw Dabi that he was provoking you in some way. No matter the occasion he would be all up in your business when in reality you had nothing to do with him. He was part of the league and you were part of your own little group. But he was certain. He was certain that the two of you would be an unimaginable strong team. He strived for power, is what you thought. But you had all the power you needed, so he was just a luxury you didn’t want to afford. He would be the start of a mistake you didn’t want to make.

You actually wished you could join his team, but working in a duo wasn’t really something you looked up to anymore. You had made that mistake once, so it wouldn’t happen again. And declining his offer, in your opinion, was the safest option.

You would walk down the street as if it was yours. Walking as if you didn’t have a care in the world, when in reality everything and everyone reminded you of a certain someone. A certain someone you didn’t ever want to be reminded of. But everything reminded you of your mistake in the past. Everything made you remember every piece of guilt you have inside your body. Everything and everyone, except Dabi.

It wasn’t as if you cared less when you were with Dabi, no, he just made you forget all of the mistakes you made and all of the things that made you feel any sort of guilt. And maybe that was just the reason you enjoyed being around him. Because in the end you did it all to just make you forget everything.

You walked inside your hide out, hours after you walked around the city and hours after your encounter with Dabi. The last thing you were expecting was to actually see him, yet there he was right in front of you. He was bent over a still laying body, his left hand around this person’s throat and fire spreading all over his right arm, ready to plunge an attack on the immobile person. 

It wasn’t shocking to see Dabi doing this kind of stuff. It was the villain life, just like you had experienced till now. Stuff like this was bound to happen and wasn’t really ever stopped.

You tried to make out whoever it was trapped under Dabi, but the pillar standing right in front of their face was making that quite impossible. Out of caution that it wasn’t one of your team mates you called for Dabi. 

“Dabi?”, you said questionable as you walked closer. “What in the world are you doing?”

His head shot in your direction and you immediately regretted asking him. His eyes screamed murder and for the first time in your life, you were terrified of him. You knew what he was capable of and pissing him off was always last on your list. His eyes bore inside of you as if it was you that had done something wrong and unconsciously you took a light step back.

questions were flooding in your brain, but no answers were given to them. What exactly was the reason behind Dabi acting this way? What caused him to look as if he was about to ring hellfire upon whoever was laying under him. 

“I need you to leave right now”, Dabi said in a calm, yet serious and stern tone. 

“But-”

“Now”, he repeated with with an even more serious look, making your insides turn. But you didn’t give in.

“I’m sorry but I cannot do that right now”, you said as you walked closer to Dabi and the anonymous person. “I need you to calm down for a second.”

The motionless stranger saw this as an opportunity and with all he got, he pushed Dabi off of him. You saw reds and yellows cover your vision  and you didn’t need to think twice, or double check to know exactly who that person was. Your stomach twisted, your heart dropped and you swear that if you weren’t able to hold yourself back you would be passed out. But the only thing that came out of you was a deep inhale, almost a gasp, as your hands flew over your mouth.

“K- Keigo?”

The person you had sworn was dead. The person who’s death was supposedly your fault. The death that had eaten you alive, drowning you in guilt. The person you had once loved had died, but was right in front of your eyes now. No injuries and very much alive.

Your legs gave up on you and your hand flew to wall, trying to maintain yourself upright. Your heart was beating so hard in your chest, you could feel the throbbing pain in your head. Your head felt fuzzy and with every blink you were trying to reduce the triggering feeling in your eyes. “This can’t be true”, you whispered over and over until your arm was thrown over ones shoulder.

When you looked up you saw Dabi helping you. “I told you to leave”, he said concerned. His voice was low and his murderous eyes disappeared, leaving him with only an anxious expression.

You looked up again only to be met with the one and only Keigo Takami, also known as dead pro-hero ‘Hawks’. His eyes screamed guilt, but not even that could make you think of a reason for him to do this. For him to play such a dirty joke.

You slowly pushed Dabi away from you and walked closer to Hawks. Dabi reached for your arm to stop you, not wanting you to take a step closer to him. But you brushed it off. You knew what you were doing, but at the same time you didn’t.

You halted your movements when you reached him and you searched his face. 

He didn’t hesitate when he came closer and he also didn’t hesitate when he pulled you in his embrace. You just stood there, hands to your side and face lifted upwards as you tried your best to not let out any tears. “You were supposed to be dead”, You said as your voice cracked. 

“But I’m not”, he said while he pulled you closer, closing off any space that was left between you. That until Dabi placed his hand between the two of you and pushed Hawks’s chest. “That’s enough buddy”, he said as he looked through hooded eyes. “Don’t cross the line.”

“Let’s go, this isn’t good for you”, Dabi said as he turned you around and made you walk to the door.

“I still love you.”

You halted again. A shiver went down your whole body and negativity triggered your brain. “You still love me.”

It came out more as a statement than a question, because if he truly really did love you, then why did he leave? You turned around, face and eyes red. “If that is to be true, then why did you leave?” You walked in his direction again. “Why did you make me go through all the hardship alone?” You whispered while tears were running down your face. “I had no one. I had no one but you. But you left and I blamed myself for that. I ate myself alive with guilt because I had thought it was all because of me. I thought you had died because of me. And you still have the audacity to come here and tell me you still love me after ditching me”, you said the last in a whisper as you were barely a few inches from his face.

You hit him weakly in the chest. “You left me all alone”, you said as you hit his chest once more. Your head dropped, tears were flooding down your face and you softly hit his chest repeatedly. When you hit him one last time, he rested his hand over yours. “I know I did, and I am so sorry. But I had no choice.”

Your head shot up. “No choice?” you said with a crack in your voice. 

“You were a villain and when we got exposed I had to fake my death for our own goods. Only the higher ups knew about me not being dead”, he said as he tried to hold your hand. His hands were shaking, but you were sure it was because he was scared. Scared of whatever reaction you were about to give.

You pulled your hand away from his grip. “So what? Were the authorities suddenly much more important? Much more important than the lives you have taken? I can’t forgive you, no, not when you are putting the blame on me. I lived my life like this and you accepted that. How can you expect me to accept the things I resent?”

“But if you had changed we could have figured this out toge-”

Blue flames covered your vision and a sudden heat made you lean back. Your back pushed against Dabi’s body and his free hand wiggled his way around your waist. His grip was firm so you allowed your weight to fall on his as your legs were giving up on you. 

The flames had died down and Hawks was nowhere to be seen. The building had enough broken windows to let any bird escape, even the bigger ones.

You tried to stand upright, but it was particularly hard to do so. But Dabi’s grip didn’t loosen on you, so you once again allowed yourself to rest against him. 

His other hand creeped around your waist and he held you like he never held you before. His hand touched your bare arm, and it was still warm from usage of his flames. It calmed you down. His head rested in the crook of your neck and he slowly pulled both of you to the ground, giving up all the support he gave while standing and letting you calm down on the ground.

He inhaled deeply and you could feel his breath on your neck and his heartbeat against your back. His touch felt intoxicating and you drowned yourself in his warmth.

Every memory of Hawks ran through your mind and your hand slowly went to your collar. You felt the necklace. It had a dove pendant and Hawks had given it to you. And he had said “Hope the wings will remind you of me every time you see them”. And you hated how it really did remind you of him every time. You played with it for a while until Dabi spoke up. 

“Did he get you that?”, he asked as his hand made its way to the necklace holding both your hand and the pendant in his hand.

You slowly nodded your head.

You felt his grip loosen on you and he slowly made his way up to your neck. He fiddled with the chain and suddenly the necklace fell to the ground. You watched as the dirt and dust on the ground had already covered it lightly. 

“I’ll get you a prettier one”, he said.

You let out a breathy laugh. “Will you make sure it has a tiny flame on it?”, you said as you rested your head against his shoulder and moved your gaze upwards, meeting his eyes. 

“However you want it designed”, he said in a whisper. His hand creeped up to your cheek and he pulled you in.

His lips met yours and you automatically closed your eyes. His touch felt rough yet soft. As if he had been craving this for too long, but still didn’t want to ruin it. 

When he pulled away he searched your face. A smile made its way on your face and you let out a laugh. “Exactly how long have you been waiting to do that?”, you said weakly.

He didn’t answer and a smug smile creeped on his his. “No clue what you’re what you’re talking about.”

But he did, he knew exactly what you were talking about. But his words alone wouldn’t be able to express the way he felt for you so his actions were his only approach to successfully show his feelings. He wasn’t good with wording his emotions, but words weren’t really something you needed to understand each other. 

“Join the league”, he said silently asked. 

You inched closer to his face, stopping right before your lips could meet. “In your dreams”, you whispered at him. 

[yannowhatigiveup]

My One And Only - Chapter 6

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Thank you so much for all the notes and reblogs! As I’m writing this I’m currently writing chapter 14. As more chapters are being written, I try to make them longer. Before my target was around 1000 words then it progressed to 1700 and then to 2000 so newer chapters will be updated less frequently.

Alya shook her head. "That isn't what I'm trying to say. What I'm trying to find out is who does she is love now?"

————————————————————

Marinette had been the one to collect the dinner despite Damian's constant requests to help. Despite her short size, Marinette managed to transport the food from the door to the dinning table in his hotel room, which Damian found surprising as she was way much stronger than she looked. Damian thanked her for bringing the food and sat in the chair directly in front of her so that it would be much easier to talk, after pushing her chair in for her.

"So, Shaytan" Marinette said while struggling to cut the vegetarian steak. "What did you want to ask?".

Damian smiled and got up to place his hands on hers, then he helped cut the steak before sitting back down. She giggled. "Earlier you asked what my reason for coming to Paris was. I shall fully answer that question now. My reason for coming was to gain more information about the alleged attacks happening here" Damian was slightly shocked at how Marinette's facial expressions changed from happy and bubbly to serious, though he didn't show it. This was a serious topic after all.

"Well first of all, the attacks are happening, they have been for over a year now." Damian's shock was plastered all over his face 'They've been dealing with this for over a year?' "Second of all" she took a piece of steak and swallowed it before continuing. "The Paris police force aren't dealing with this by themselves, there are superheroes here"

"Well Angel, who are they?"

"Well when the attacks first started a superhero duo was always there to defeat them. A girl called Ladybug and a boy called Chat Noir" she took another bite of steak. "But since the villains have gotten a lot stronger, they've expanded to a superhero team. On hero's day was one of the most biggest attacks and at the time, the superhero team was at five members. The other heroes were Rena Rouge, Carapace and Queen Bee." Damian was impressed at how much Marinette could say without needing to take breaths of air.

"And who is the one responsible for these attacks?"

"Hawkmoth" Marinette said taking yet another piece of steak. "When someone's negative emotions passes a certain limit, Hawkmkth uses an Akuma to akumatize that person, turning them into a villain with powers. If you're wondering, an akuma is a butterfly filled with Hawkmoth's power. I heard he can control them to go to a certain victim but if the akuma is far away, he can't control the villain or get in contact with the akuma." Marinette took another piece of steak, in her defense it was really good, for a vegetarian steak. "But recently there has been a new villain working on his side, Mayura. She creates something similar to an akuma but it's call an amok and it's in the shape of a feather. What the amok does is create a sentimonster. A sentimonster is fueled by emotions and can be controlled only by the person who holds the object with the amok inside"

"Yes that does make sense. So how many superheroes has there been in total and what are the ages of all of them, including Hawkmoth and Mayura?"

"I believe there have been ten different superheroes." She began listing them all out loud. "Ladybug, Chat Noir, Rena Rouge, Carapace, Queen Bee, Viperion, Pegasus, Ryuko, King Monkey and Multimouse. Yep ten but most of them have only appeared once. And they're all in between the ages of 14-16, I'd say. Hawkmoth and Mayura however are adults"

"So you're saying that two adults are putting the lives of a maximum of ten kids in danger" Marinette nodded. "But what is his motive?"

"I honestly have no idea" Marinette put bluntly while putting another piece of steak in her mouth. She then glanced at the time and realised she had to go home soon. She looked at the half eaten steak, she sighed "I have to go Damian I'm so sorry, I'm can tell you every thing I know through text if you want me to,"

"No it's fine, you go home and home a good sleep. We can talk tomorrow" Damian was surprised when Marinette hugged him before leaving. Of course, he hugged her back.

A few hours after Marinette left, Damian opened the computer to a shared document, surprisingly, Tim was on it at the time. The system showed that Tim was typing something.

Tim: Wow, no rest for Demon Spawn eh?

Damian rolled his eyes at his older brother's comment. He dragged his mouse down the document, searching for a certain column labeled 'current situation'. There he could give a general idea of how bad it was here at Paris. Marinette and told him so much already but his gut told him that she had more to tell. Though he didn't like the thought of becoming soft, he didn't mind being that soft around Mari. 'Everyone else? Hell no'. He quickly found the column he was looking for. He then selected an option out of the possible five, 'critical'. This meant that Paris was in serious danger. He knew that Tim was watching, probably drowning himself in coffee, but the dark-haired boy was surprised when Tim didn't sent a message straight away. As the three dots appeared, indicating that Tim had begun to type, Damian signed off. He liked it when he seemed mysterious.

Then Damian remembered that Marinette never got to finish her steak. Not wanting to waste it, he decided to have it as a midnight snack.

~~~

"Oh Tikki! I had an amazing time with Damian" the bluenette gushed to her kwami.

"You seemed very happy in his company Marinette!" Tikki squeaked. "But how will you be able to move on after he's gone back to Gotham?"

Marinette frowned. "Well, I'll worry about that when the time comes". She then thought about all the fun she had at the dark-haired boy's hotel room then the thought about how he made her blush like mad. Again the moment made her blush again, just not as much as earlier. Then the thought hit her. "Tikki, when I put Damian's head on my lap, do you think he thought it meant something else?"

"You let him rest his head in you're lap? Wow I never saw that!" Marinette went red again, this time she didn't have Damian's shoulder to hide herself. 'I guess that's my new coping mechanism, but I'm not complaining. He's also really hot when he smirks- gAH'

~~~

It was 4 pm. Tim wasn't really tired, he was just a caffeine addict, this was his fifth cup in the span of a single hour. If Damian was here, he would likely look at him with judging eyes. 'But he isn't here so hah, take that Demon Spawn'. Just when he said that in his mind, a message arrived saying that Damian was online.

"Speak of the devil" Tim muttered, taking another sip of coffee. He decided to write him a message.

Tim: Wow, no rest for Demon Spawn eh?

Though he wasn't really expecting him to reply, he didn't expect Damian to do what he did next. Tim watched as Damian changed the situation column for 'No Information' to 'Critical'. "What the-" Tim saw that Dick was in the room. "Dick could you pull up a live feed from Paris?"

"Aight"

The TV showed a peaceful and quiet Paris, not like the one you would expect if it were labeled under 'critical'. Tim was so confused he began to type a message but noticed that Damian had signed off. Dick, seeing Tim's confused nature, came over to look at the computer. "What was he referring to? What the hell is going on?"

———

Taglist: @little-bluestar, @miracleofadisaster, @frieddonutsweets

[dead-boys-club]

are you still going to do the character explanation thing for bonten? your characterization is interesting, esp Haru.

Yeah, absolutely! I can do it right here, actually. I'll make it short and if anyone has any questions, feel free! I'll do other characters too, if anyone wants. Do keep in mind as I write these, it's just a tiny thing off the top of my head. If you want certain situation characteristics, let me know.

Rindou -

In my writing and even my rp profiles, Rindou always has the tagline of 'The Devil' and it's because I see him as the ruthless one when it comes to an enemy. He has an inferiority complex but that's pretty common in a lot of people's writing and I mean, it's kind of obvious. He's cocky and has an ego that's only taken down when he gets his ass kicked. He likes torture and playing with feelings; he's very manipulative and he enjoys seeing what he can make people do. He gets bored easily, tends to have a glass of whiskey during down time and looks down on people pretty easily. He’s a very contradicting person to me because I also write him as having asd. He masks pretty hard but he isn’t emotionless. he just doesn’t enjoy being seen as weak in public. He is loyal to a fault and will do whatever he can to keep someone by his side, waiting if need be but at one point, he’ll realize it’s pointless. He may kick himself for it but it’ll eventually pass; years can mean nothing in only minutes if he decides.

Ran -

So, I've noticed very few differences in how I write him compared to others but I've never been told anything bad about it? He's very charming, the responsible older brother who worries about Rindou every time they step foot out the door - not that he’s going to say that. He's very caring and has that annoying motherly side. He also doesn't understand Rin's complex because he sees him as an equal - despite this, he's still super protective. He's charming and outside of being a confident dick when it comes to fighting, he's actually pretty soft. He also likes being taken care of and pampered because he's been doing it for someone else his whole life. He likes affection and feeling loved; he wants to feel special to someone and likes the idea of someone waiting up for him. However, he has his own contradicting factor; unlike most people, it’s Ran I’d give the borderline sociopathic traits to. Borderline being the keyword.

Takeomi -

He's just a broken man, tbh. He's gone through a lot and blames himself for a lot of things, especially Sanzu. He's got a problem holding onto his ego, which is in his actual profile, and struggles with how to handle power. He easily becomes eaten up with the world around him and his position. He's tired. He wants nothing more than to come home to a warm, home-cooked meal and someone to run their fingers through his hair, telling him it's okay. Ofc, he's not just going to admit that. He's pretty honest but he knows how to spare feelings if need be. He drowns his sorrows in smoking, liquor and screwing around. He believes he has been damned since birth.

Kakucho -

Sweet, soft baby. No one can tell me otherwise ♡ He is a loyal guard dog ( a melanistic Doberman, if you're curious. ) and that's never going to change. He's been screwed over time and time again but when he finds someone to attach to, he'll die for them without a second thought. As I mentioned in one of my requests, he often spends the night wanting to be normal and wondering what his life would be like if he'd never followed Izana. He would have adored nothing more than being brought up in a loving family and eventually having one of his own. Like Takeomi, he feels like he's cursed to keep living through these shitty moments that are slowly but surely dragging him down over the years. He just wants to be happy and wanted.

Sanzu -

See, Sanzu is hard for me but I treat him like two personalities. Sanzu is a ruthless, drugged up man who kills without a thought, doing absolutely any and everything that his 'King' tells him to. His mind focuses solely on doing his duty. He doesn't think of love or even lust, half the time, because it's a distraction.

Haruchiyo, however, is caring and often looks on his life with tired, sad eyes. Like Kakucho, he wonders how he'd be if life was normal. He has been fucked up for a long time and fights with what he wants - does he want love? Can he even love at this point? He's the type to stay up until five in the morning, letting you cry on his shoulder while he whispers sweet nothings and reassures you. Aka, he's sober.

Mikey -

I don't really have much on Mikey, simply because he's kind of a complex character. Some people write him as emotionless and dead inside while others write him like he's got Day & Night disorder. I've not written much for him but what I have, he doesn't talk much and often fights with himself. He wants to be honest and fall in love and be okay but it's a struggle because things have changed, he has changed - at least, part of him has. Part of him is ruthless and exhausted with the life that's been given to him while the other half wants to be held and fed snacks while you dry his tears. There isn't much reassuring for him because it's not okay - you can't change what he's lost and bring it back. You can simply tell him he's not entirely alone.

Kokonoi -

sighs. I've written him so many ways. More often than not, he tends to be quiet and follows, keeping a lot of thoughts to himself because they're all pretty dark. His mind is a very dark and volatile. He's made mistakes and shitty choices and he knows that but he's going to see them out, he's not going to bitch out because he put himself where he's at. He doesn't sleep a lot because of nightmares and an inability to shut his mind off. My favorite detail in the character book is that his dislike is money and that's why I write him hating wealth so often. He doesn't want it. He doesn't like it but it's what he's good at and it's what has kept him alive. Koko wants to be needed for things other than his ability with money. He's kind hearted when it comes to the right person.

[santigarcia]

Watermelon 🍉

Human Touch Part Three

a nathan bateman x f!reader series

Part One | Part Two

word count: 1.7k

rating: M/E for sexual themes, smut (pls only read if youre 18+)

summary: Nathan offers to teach you to box, but he ends up showing you something else instead...

a/n: sorry im late getting this one out! make sure you read part one and part two!! thank you again to @punkpascal and @sergeantkane! let me know what yall think!

Nathan took you back to your cousin’s after a few more days spent tangled in the sheets. He fucked you a couple times at your cousin’s place just for good measure. It was a bittersweet goodbye, you had to go back home. But there was a promise you’d come back, stay longer with him.

You dated virtually for a few months. It worked out because he was up all hours working and could text you. He’s surprisingly good at multitasking. The sexting and the phone sex were nice, but you both missed each other’s touch. Something about him made you ache to be back in his arms.

He surprised you with plane tickets one day, and you flew out to him. You spent a week this time. But the goodbye was even harder.

An intimacy had grown. Your lives begin to merge.

But there was an air about him that was different. He was happier than he’d ever remember being, but also scared out of his mind. There were hours that would go by when you wouldn’t see him. He’d be working, but mostly he was trying to collect his thoughts. You were such a damn distraction. Every moment spent with you felt like the air in his lungs would leave him, he’d never be able to breathe again with you taking the air from him. His heart thuds in his chest and he swears he’s having a heart attack. But it’s just you, it’s you.

He still can’t believe you’re real.

One afternoon you walked in on him pleasuring himself. Fully naked, flat on his back on his bed. Big hand pumping his dick. Moans echoing in the room. He didn’t see you or notice you until his end. He came with a loud groan and he moaned your name.

When he sat up, he saw you, there was a moment of panic in his eyes, but then it turned to a smirk.

“Enjoy the show?”

“Why didn’t you….come get me?” you flush. He looked away from your gaze, a heat rises in his face and the tips of his ears turn pink.

“I still can’t believe you’re real.” He rubs the back of his neck.

“How long have you been so alone?” your heart hurts and you go over to him and kiss the top of his head.

These are the things that plague him. He’s been so alone for so long; he’s trying to adjust to life with you in his home. The heat in his bed. Someone else showering. Your clothes in the closet. Your shampoo in the shower. Little traces of you.

He’s also not used to having to talk to anyone. He’ll spend hours or days even deep in his work. Barely remembering to eat.

You ate alone one evening, so you wandered into his lab to check on him. When you asked him why he wasn’t with you he snapped at you like a scared wounded animal.

“We don’t have to spend every second together,” he’d said. But as soon as he said it, he was full of regret. He never wanted to see that upset look in your eyes again.

“Well, I only see you if we have sex!” Which wasn’t true, but it’s what it felt like. You’re only here for a week, you wanted to make the most of it.

You walked out of his lab leaving him alone. You saw the look on his face, and he looked defeated. Hurt. Angry. At himself, not at you.

Later you went back into apologize, only to find him asleep at his desk. His face smushed against the keyboard. Several lines of letters were being typed by his cheek on the screen.

“Nathan,” you whisper and gently touch his shoulder. He bolts upright and groans a silent “fuck” when he sees all the letters typed out.

“You need to rest, come with me right now,” you tell him. He doesn’t disagree and he follows you to his bed. You lay down first, on you back with pillows propped behind you. “Come here,” you beckon. And with a happy sigh he lays down, resting his head on your stomach just under your breasts. He breathes deeply as you scratch his back and softly rub his fuzzy head.

“I’m sorry,” you say first. “I’m a little nervous about this.”

“I’m sorry,” he replies. “I’m nervous as shit. I’m not used to having another person around. Especially not someone so-“ his throat tightens. How can he tell you that he loves you already? “What if I’m not good enough for you? I don’t want to hurt you. But- I’ve been trying to think of ways to ask you.”

“Ask me what?” you stroke his beard gently.

“Move out here with me,” he’d whispered into your skin.

“I’d love to,” you whispered back. “And we’ll figure this out. But you are good enough. My only,” you smile and kiss him softly.

He paid for everything. He hired movers to get your things. He paid for any expenses and every ticket. Your parents were a little surprised you were dropping everything to stay with someone they’d never even met, but they’d also never seen you happier in your life.

Nathan enjoyed helping you unpack. He analyzed everything you owned. And he liked making a space for all your things. He rifled through your record collection with keen interest, and all your underwear.

It felt so domestic being with him, and you knew it was the right decision. You’d been worried about being homesick, but that feeling never came. He was your home. You had everything you needed and could possibly want.

You kept in contact with all your friends, you’d video chat with them. There were things you missed, but you settled into life with Nathan with ease.

The newest part for you was sharing space with someone. He’d not done that in some time either. He’s not used to someone curling up against him in the middle of the night. He runs hot, but he can’t push you away. He’ll just turn down the AC.

This morning, the bed is empty. Which isn’t uncommon. He keeps weird hours. You pull on his Henley and some warm pajama pants and wander through the house looking for him.

You find him outside on the deck, he’s practicing his boxing this morning. His fists collide with the punching bag and you can hear him grunt with effort. Unashamedly you watch his tight ass bounce as he hops around on the balls of his feet.

You make your presence known by opening the sliding door to the deck. He sees you with a smile, but he keeps going. He might be showing off just a little for you, but you don’t mind. The newness of the relationship has him doing things of the sort.

“Are you going to teach me how to box?” you ask sitting on one of the deck chairs nearby.

“Well get over here and I’ll teach you,” he grins, his shoulders heave as he breathes deeply.

He holds your hands in his, showing you how to make a fist. His touch is warm, his eyes flicker with desire. He’s sweaty and his kisses are salty.

“Hold your hands like this-“ he tells you. He stands behind you and guides your arms on how to throw a proper punch without hurting yourself. He slots himself behind you, and you can feel him through his thin gym shorts.

“Nathan.”

“Hmm?” he hums in your ear and kisses your cheek.

“What are you doing?”

“I thought I was showing you how to box? What did you think I was doing?” He hums again and ruts his hips against your ass.

“It’s this shirt isn’t it?” you lean back against his chest and wrap your arms around his neck. He kisses your neck and his beard brushes along your skin.

“Yeah, you look so fuckin’ good in my shirt. Hold still,” he tells you and slips his hand down your pants. He wraps his other arm around you to keep you still while he rubs tight circles on your clit. “You know, kitten, I haven’t eaten you out yet. Would you let me?”

“Outside?” you moan while his fingers move. He chuckles in your ear.

“No one’s out here. Please baby, let me taste you.”

“You really want to?”

His fingers move faster, and you buck against his hand. You’re so close, chasing it when he pulls his hand away. He brings his fingers up to his lips and groans in your ear.

“You taste so good, I want more.”

“Please- let me finish. Use your mouth.”

“Attagirl,” he winks and squeezes your ass. “If you’re not ready though, say so. It’s not like I haven’t seen you.” He smirks.

“Where do you want me?”

He points to one of the tables. You sit down on it and lay back. He kneels in front of you and pulls your pants and panties down your legs. He spreads your thighs and puts them over his shoulders while he dives in.

His eyes close in pleasure while his tongue laps at your folds and sensitive bundle of nerves. He sucks and kisses and grazes his teeth. His beard scrapes your thighs, and you scream out in the open air.

“That’s it baby,” he moans against your heat. “Fuck, you have the best tasting pussy.”

“Nathan!” you whine his name, and he goes in harder. Sucking and eating you alive.

“You’re sweeter than the watermelon we had the other night,” he purrs into your heat. He doesn’t stop until you’re coming all over his tongue. Your sweet essence he could drown in. You’re real. Warm, wet, and real. He burns with need after tasting you. He’d keep going if he weren’t so hard in his shorts.

He pushes his shorts down and leans over you, kissing you deeply.

“Can I?” he asks, there’s a pleading tone in his voice. You practically beg him to push inside, you wrap your legs around him and pull him towards you. He sinks in with a sigh. The table scrapes on the deck as he thrusts into you.

“So much for teaching me boxing,” you gasp out a moan when he spills inside of you.

“Next time,” he chuckles, falling on top of you. “I’ve had my workout for the day.”

xx

tagging: @pascal-isaac, @wasicskosgirl, @velvetmel0n, @huliabitch, @shadow-assassin-blix, @writefightandflightclub, @aellynera, @softboywriting, @veuliee2, @spider-starry, @mylifeliterally, @millllenniawrites, @ntlmundy, @foxilayde, @writingletterstothefire, @mandoplease, @anetteaneta, @feelmyroarrrr, @artsymaddie, @shakespeareanwannabe, @poedameronsbeard, @deanfanatic, @magicsuperheroes, @phoenixhalliwell, @that-one-weird-one, @mariesackler​

[superbadassnatural]

Stranger - part one

Summary: After a disastrous date, Y/N decides to drown her sorrows in a bar a few blocks down the road. Luckily, she meets a stranger that manages to talk some sense into her. Pairing: Dean x Reader (future) // Mason (OMC) x Reader (past) Word count: 3,493 Warnings:little bit of angst, fluff, break-up, Dean being the true gentleman he is A/N: this was written for “1541 Folllowers Celebration” hosted by the sweetest of all @herstarburststories (I’m sorry this took me so long). The prompt is bolded. Hope you all enjoy!

(x)

“Whiskey,” a gravel voice mixed with the sound of the stool being pulled out of the counter. “Neat.”

You couldn’t bring yourself to look in that direction. You didn’t want another person to see your face. Not that you cared that strangers saw you crying, but you were already feeling humiliated enough for one night. You downed your shot, closing your eyes as your throat burned.

The music filled your ears. You could only hope this man wouldn’t say a word to you. He was the first person to sit near you since you got here. No one dared to take place even remotely close to you, not even three stools from yours. No one wanted to sit beside a crying mess. No one wanted to feel obliged to ask if everything was fine, even though they already knew the answer.

Sometimes you hated how curious you were. You wanted to know if the man was as handsome as you imagined when you heard his voice. You shouldn’t look. The music. Focus on the music. Loud pop songs echoed in the crowded bar. A group of girls danced and screamed over the dance floor. It seemed to be like a bachelorette party. A few guys hustled pool in the back. Others tried to make their way to undergrads’ panties. Older men sat alone in booths, nursing their beer. On your peripheral view, you watched as the man tapped his glass, asking for a refill. The barman poured him another shot of whiskey.

“Mike, can I get more vodka, please?” You held your glass out for him, batting your eyelashes.

“You already had enough, Y/N,” he walked to you, his lips pressed into a thin line.

“But it did me good, didn’t it?” You raised your eyebrows. “Look, I’m not even crying anymore.”

“I know, but we should get you in a cab.”

“Just one more shot and I promise that’s it for the night,” you stuck out your pinky finger to him. He only shook his head.

“We’ve already done this three times.”

“Fourth time's the charm,” you smirked.

“Only one shot and you’re done,” he warned, pouring your drink. “Then it’s just water for you.”

“Thanks, Mike,” grinning, you took the glass from the counter and downed it.

A sigh escaped your lips as the drink burned its way down your throat. You felt a pair of eyes heavy on you. Placing the empty glass on the wooden counter, you turned to the stranger sitting within two feet from you. Piercing green eyes roamed over your form, studying you until they found their way to your eyes. Your breath hitched in your throat as he seemed to stare deep into your soul. It felt as if he was unveiling your deepest secrets. You half-smiled at him with a little raise of your hand in a finger wave. He raised his glass before bringing it to his lips.

“I’m Dean,” he said with a warm smile.

“Y/N,” the sound of your voice helped to remind you of your real condition.

God, he must think you were some lunatic.

You turned away from him, facing the countless bottles displaying in front of you. Your hands flew to your face, fingers trying to clean the smeared mascara under your eyes. On your peripheral view, you noticed the man standing up from his seat. A shaky sigh escaped your lips as he started walking towards you.

“May I?” He asked, hand on the metal stool beside you.

You nodded, not trusting your voice to give him a decent answer. You just wanted to be left alone, but you didn’t want to sound rude. Unlike other people in the bar, he didn’t give you the same pitiful look. His eyes only showed kindness.

“I heard these guys have the best burger in town,” he said. “Is it true?”

Without averting your gaze from the bottles in the display, you shrugged. You could feel his eyes on you. He clicked his tongue, pursing his lips.

“You from around here? Have you eaten here before?” you didn’t answer him. “Right,” he sighed. “Guess we should order and see it for ourselves then.”

“Look, I’m sorry,” you turned to him. “I don’t know what you’re doing, but I didn’t come here to flirt. So if you don’t mind-“

“Wow, wow, I’m gonna have to stop you there,” his green eyes widened. “I’m not trying to flirt with you or anything. Don’t get me wrong, but you seemed pretty beaten up so I thought that maybe you would enjoy some company to get your mind off whatever it is that’s bothering you. Now if you don’t want me here, then just say the word and I’m gone.”

“No, uh, you can stay I guess.”

“Good,” he gave you a short nod. “Burgers?”

“Yeah,” you smiled weakly.

Dean ordered a bacon cheeseburger with a portion of french fries. You decided to order the same. The two of you waited in silence. Not that there was a need to say anything. The food arrived along with two beers. A moan escaped Dean’s lips once he took a bite of his burger.

“Hmmm, this is so good,” he grumbled, his eyes closed and mouthful.

Your lips curled into a small smile at the sight of the stranger savoring his food. You took a bite of your burger, repressing a moan in the back of your throat. It wasn’t the first time you’d tried their food, but it had been a while though. They still had the best cheeseburger in town for sure.

“It’s good, huh?” He asked you, lips curled upwards.

“Yeah, it is.”

You finished the rest of your food in comfortable silence. Both too focused on the heavenly taste and the greasy french fries.

“Shit, you shouldn’t be having that,” he said as you took a sip of your beer.

“Of course I should.”

“No, you shouldn’t,” he shook his head. “That Mike guy said you already had enough to drink tonight and from now on you would only have water.”

“Oh, c’mon, I’m not even drunk,” you nearly whined. “And why would you care?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugged. “I just know that if you get really drunk to the point you won’t be able to walk, then someone might want to take advantage of you.”

“Hmmm, you got a point,” you took another gulp of your beverage and he gave you a sharp look. “But you see, Mike is my friend so he’s not gonna let anyone take advantage of me. Especially you.”

“Me?” His green eyes widened, voice rising about an octave or two. “Especially me?”

“I don’t know you. In fact, you could be pretending to be nice just to drug me or something.”

“I’d never do that,” he sounded truly offended.

“How am I supposed to know you’re saying the truth?”

“Guess you just gotta trust me.”

“Yeah, right,” you scoffed, downing the last bit of your drink. “The last time I trusted somebody all I got was an astronomical heartbreak.”

“Since I’m a stranger, I can’t break your heart.”

“But you could kill me,” you pointed out.

“Yeah, ‘cause I’m a serial killer,” he rolled his eyes, returning his attention to the bottle in his hand and downing the rest of the beer. “I’m not a serial killer.”

“I know,” you chuckled. “You look harmless, Dean. You seem as innocent as a puppy.”

Dean rolled his eyes, signaling to the bartender to serve another round.

“So do you mind me asking what you're doing here?” He asked, green eyes searching for any expression that gave away the reason you were alone on a Friday night.

“Well, since you’re just a stranger and you’re not a serial killer, then I don’t mind you asking,” you pointed. “My boyfriend broke up with me.”

“That sucks,” he muttered before gulping his beer. “Guess that’s why you look like you’ve been crying for hours on end, right?”

“Right,” you clicked your tongue. “What about you, Dean? What’re you doing here alone on a Friday night?”

“Relaxing I guess,” he shrugged. “Plus, a friend of mine told me the food here is great. I had to figure that out for myself.”

“Hmmm, I see,” you nodded. “Guess I look terrible right now.”

“I wouldn’t say terrible,” he leaned to your side, his lips curving in a playful smile. “You don’t look terrible, Y/N. You actually caught my eyes when I stepped inside.”

“Then you saw my face and-“

“Then I saw your face and wondered what could have broken that pretty girl’s spirit.”

“Mason happened,” you mumbled, eyes focused on the recently opened bottle in your hands.

“So the douche has a name.”

“I thought he was going to propose,” you chuckled humorlessly before taking a large gulp of your beer. “Can you believe it? How crazy is that? I was sure he was gonna propose and he broke up with me!”

“He might be worse than I thought.”

“Oh, he is. I was sure he was planning a surprise. Who the hell invites someone to their favorite restaurant just to break up with them? C’mon, look at me,” you motioned to your body. “I dressed up for this. I put on a really nice dress just to look good. ‘Cause I knew I’d remember this. I was sure I was gonna come back home with a diamond ring on my finger and we’d have some hot ‘hey, we’re engaged’ sex. I’m ridiculous.”

“No, you’re not. That guy certainly didn’t deserve you. If he wanted to break up, he wouldn’t have given you hope for a brighter future.”

“I was probably reading too much into this.”

“So? He still shouldn’t have done it this way.”

“Can you believe he didn’t even pay the check?” A dry chuckle escaped your lips.

“He’s a dick.”

“You know the greatest loves of all time are over now,” you sighed, taking a bite of the last french fry.

“No, they are not,” he shook his head vehemently, staring back at you with wide eyes.

“How do you know that?”

“How do you know they are?” He challenged.

“Look around, Dean,” you said. “Angelina Jolie and Brad Pitt? Ashton Kutcher and Demi Moore? Jennifer Lopez and Ben Affleck? DiCaprio and Gisele? They all broke up.”

“So what?” Dean blurted out, his voice rising. “That doesn’t mean anything.”

“Of course it does,” you argued. “They’re all beautiful, smart, kind people and they are alone. People looked up to them. If they got divorced, then what’s left for me?”

“You have nothing to do with them,” he said. “And since you care so much about famous people and their relationships why aren’t you talking about Beckham and Victoria? Obama and Michelle? Gisele married freaking Tom Brady. He’s way better than DiCaprio,” he pointed out. “The greatest loves of all time aren’t over, Y/N.”

“But why does it feel like they are?”

Tears started to well in your eyes. Your voice wavered just above a whisper. Dean smiled sympathetically.

“You just had your heart broken by someone you care about. It’s okay to feel this way.”

“You’re a nice guy, you know?”

“I heard that once or twice,” he smiled, his head ducking down to hide the blush that crept up in his cheeks. “Now where’s that restaurant you mentioned?”

“Just a few blocks from here. The fancy Italian one,” Dean nodded. “Why?”

“Not today of course, but I’m gonna take you there again sometime.”

“Are you asking me on a date?” Teasingly, your lips curled into a smirk. You were having a blast watching him get all flustered.

“No, what I’m saying is since that’s one of your favorite restaurants, you shouldn’t have a bad memory of it.”

“Thanks,” you smiled, your eyes finding his beautiful green irises. “Dean? Can I ask you a favor?”

“Sure, anything. Shoot.”

“When I walked down to this bar I had made up my mind that I would get drunk tonight,” you admitted. “It’s much easier to deal with a hangover in the morning than crying myself to sleep. Can you respect that?” You offered him the best pleading look you could muster.

“Yeah, I can,” he nodded, finishing his drinking and calling for another round. “I don’t judge you, alright?”

“You don’t?” Dean noticed a spark in your eyes when you heard his words.

“I don’t,” he smiled. “I’ve been there. It was a long time ago but I still remember how much it hurt. I drowned my sorrows throughout the whole week. I stank alcohol. Then things got better. They always do. You might not see it now, but you will.”

“Why are you being so nice to me?”

Dean only shrugged. Silence fell between you. Dean finished what it was his last beer while you had a few more and some whiskey shots. Every gulp seemed like a better idea. It was. Anything was better than having that dull ache in your chest.

“Why did he do that?” You drawled as a cry broke out. Dean snapped from his thoughts and turned to you. “If he didn’t love me anymore, why couldn't he make it painless?”

“Because he’s an idiot and he only cared about himself.”

“Why people always leave me? Am I this broken that people just feel like they need to go away?”

“No, of course not,” his voice was gentle, his hand reached up to your cheek, fingers wiping the tears that fell freely. “You’re not broken, Y/N.”

“How can you say that? You don’t even know me.”

“It doesn’t matter. You’re not broken and if people leave you, then it’s their loss,” a weak smile appeared on your lips. “You wanna hear something?” You only nodded. “What kind of tree fits in your hand?”

“What?” You asked with a tilt of your head. Your mind was too foggy to understand where he wanted to get with that.

“What kind of tree fits in your hand?” He asked again, a playful smile hanging on his lips.

“None,” your eyes casted down to your hands, examining them carefully. “My hand is too small to fit a tree.”

“No, Y/N,” he shook his head, trying to hold back his laugh. “It’s a palm tree.”

You stared blankly at him. Dean could almost see the gears in your head slowly spinning due to the alcohol. When you didn’t laugh, he decided it was better to explain it to you.

“Y/N,” he took your hand in his big one. You hummed. “A palm tree.”

“Oh,” you muttered, gaze fixated on your hand in his. Dean searched for any sign that would give away what you thought of his stupid joke. “Oh!” You blurted.

A wave of laughter came out louder than you expected. His joke finally made sense to you. Dean chuckled. He was relieved you found it funny. At least the drunk version of you did. Your laugh was contagious and the most heartwarming sound Dean had heard in months. He watched hiccups escape your lips with a smile.

“Alright, I think you had enough now,” Dean reached for the beer bottle on the wooden counter, he took a gulp and fished it. “We should get you home.”

“Okay,” you sighed, hands fumbling in your purse in search of your phone. “Here,” you placed it in his hands. “Call an Uber for me. It’s-“

“You’re not getting in an uber like this,” he shook his head. “C’mon, I’ll drop you home.”

Dean placed some bills on the counter, enough to cover your drinks and a generous tip. You hopped off the stool in a quick movement, feet wobbling, legs barely able to hold your weight.

“Hey, easy there,” he said, his hands wrapping on your biceps, keeping you steady. “Can you walk?”

“Mmhmm.”

You followed him to his car. Giggles escaped your lips out of nowhere. Dean only smiled with a shook of his head. He opened the door for you, making sure you wouldn’t bump your head or just fall on the passenger seat. You mumbled your address and were surprised that he understood what you said.

“I… I got a joke too,” your tongue drawled most ridiculously.

“You do?” He chuckled, taking a quick glance at you before turning his attention back to the road.

“I do.”

Dean waited for you to share but nothing came out.

“You not gonna share?”

“What do you call a be- a bear with no ears?” You hooted.

“What?” He smiled at you.

“A B.”

Dean chuckled. It wasn’t the kind of laugh you were expecting though. He glanced at you and noticed your arms crossed over your chest while a pout hung on your lips.

“What’s wrong?”

“You didn’t like it,” you mumbled.

“Of course I did,” he nearly squealed.

He pulled up in the driveway and put the car in park. Dean climbed out of it and circled. A creak echoed through your dizzy head as he opened the door. You hopped off your seat, wobbly feet causing you to lose your balance. Firm, warm hands wrapped on your elbows, keeping you from falling. You were so tired and your legs weren’t even cooperating.

“You sure you can walk?” His emerald eyes scanned you. You only shook your head in defeat, not even daring to meet his eyes. “Okay. Just gimme your keys then.”

Hands fumbling in your purse, you found the keys and handed them to him.

“It’s the bigger one,” you told him.

Dean nodded. Before your tipsy mind could get a hold of what was happening, your feet were off the ground. One arm was under your legs and the other supported your back. You wrapped your arms around his neck, nuzzling into his chest. The warmth of his body irradiated through the layers of clothing. His musky scent was almost inebriating.

“Hmmm, so comfy,” you muttered against his flannel.

Dean walked with you in his arms to the front door. He managed to open it without having to let go of you. Stepping inside, his eyes roamed over the living room.

“My bedroom is in the far end,” you explained, voice muffled by the fabric of his shirt, eyes closed.

The door to your room was open and Dean was glad for that. He walked in carefully not to have you bumping your head against the doorframe. Dean placed you on the bed. Your entire body relaxed at the feeling of the soft mattress. He removed your boots and you curled up on your side, opening your eyes to see him sitting beside you.

“You okay?” He asked, fingers gently tucking a few strands of hair behind your ear.

“Been better,” you said sleepily. “Doesn’t hurt anymore.”

“Good. I’m glad,” he smiled, his thumb caressed your cheek. “You’re tired. I should get going.”

“Don’t,” you whined, holding his wrist. “Stay, please.”

“Only for a little while.”

“The room is spinning,” you chuckled.

“God, you’re gonna wake up to a killer hangover.”

“Yep.”

You got lost in his jade eyes, enjoying his proximity and the feeling of his fingers on your cheek. Even in your drunk state, you could still make some of his gorgeous features.

“Why can’t I just fall in love with someone like you?” Your voice was barely audible as you dragged out most words. “You barely even know me, but you’re already taking care of me. You’re one of the good guys, Dean.”

“I try, sweetheart,” he smiled.

“I can see myself falling for you.”

“Nah, you can’t,” he scoffed. “You’re probably seeing two of me right now.”

“Yeah,” you chuckled.

“I’m gonna get you some water, then you’ll go to sleep, alright?”

“Alrighty,” you yawned.

Dean headed to the kitchen to get you a glass of water. He felt bad seeing you this way. He could see it in your eyes how much you were hurting over the break-up. He walked back into the room only to find you already asleep, curled on your side. He placed the glass on the nightstand.

Before leaving, Dean searched for some paper. He fumbled in your drawers, finding a block of sticky notes and a pen. He wrote down on the paper and left it on the nightstand, your phone on top of it. Dean exited the room, closing the door behind him, and left the house. He made his way to the car and he couldn’t help but hope he’d see you again.

Tomorrow you’d wake up to a pounding headache, a dry mouth, and several waves of nausea. Then you’d found his note resting under your phone.

You probably don’t remember me, but I’m the guy who brought you home safe and sound. I can help you remember what happened last night. And I kinda owe you a date to that restaurant you like. Just call me: (785) 389-7216 or don’t. I don’t know. - Dean.

Read part two here!

I’d love to know what you think of this one! Consider sharing your thoughts with me via reply, reblog or ask!

Forevers: @hobby27​ @thewinchesterandreidwhore 

Dean Sweethearts:@maya-craziness @akshi8278 @herfalsegod @witch-of-letters @weepingwillowphoenix @deanmonandnegansbitch

[yukipri]

On Thatch & Marco - A One Piece Mermaid AU Text Headcanon/Story

So I’ve gotten quite a few asks regarding Marco and the Whitebeards, and while this isn’t a response to a specific ask, here’s a little story on them!

~~

It's only been a few weeks since they've left Dawn Island, and they're still in East Blue but they've somehow already more than doubled the number of brats on board. And while the Moby Dick is far from boring, Thatch has had more adventures in this short timespan than he's had in years, and he's thriving.

Sure, he still feels little twinges of guilt for basically ditching his duties, but he's growing, in ways that the stability of an established Yonko crew hadn't allowed, and he knows that he'll be a better, more useful man to Pops and the others by the time they've caught up in the New World. Honestly, he's wondering if he should suggest these kinds of experiences for all the commanders, and wonders how Pops would feel about that.

But it's on one of these days and brief moments of calm when Thatch is daydreaming about his family in the New World when he spots a blue seagull circling far above them. It's weirdly shiny, and Thatch immediately recognizes it as a species native to an island in Pops' territory, and one that is unusual all the way here in East Blue.

Which means only one thing: Marco's checking in.

A quiet whistle from Thatch is all it takes for the seagull to come spiraling down, and Thatch remembers to take a quick glance around deck to make sure Luffy hasn't spotted it; he's learned the hard way what it means for a bird to land on deck when the ever-hungry mermaid is feeling a bit peckish.

But the bird lands safely on the rail close to Thatch's arm. It's by no means nearly as brilliant a blue as Marco, but certainly more beautiful than most birds you can find out at sea. Thatch still remembers the first time he found Marco making friends with the things, remembers laughing hysterically and making all sorts of bird jokes as Marco, then still a teen, looked more and more like the constipated old man he eventually grows up to be.

Well, jokes aside, the birds are now incredibly useful, serving as Marco's personal messengers to their allies across the world. Which, huh, Thatch supposes that includes him now, which is kind of an odd feeling.

And while Thatch wants to feel flattered that Marco's checking up on his favorite Thatch, he also knows that Marco's checking up on their littlest little brother, and the little brother of that little brother (baby brother^2, Thatch and Marco had fondly dubbed her, when Ace first told them about her). Because while Thatch's definitely accompanying Ace and co for his own selfish reasons (and he also swears it's not just so he could encounter the love of his life, darling Luffy), he also knows that Marco and Pops had ulterior motives for letting Thatch go, beyond just allowing Thatch to stretch his legs.

When Ace had asked, uncharacteristically shy, if he could still be one of Whitebeard's sons without formally joining his crew, and when Whitebeard responded with an affirmative--Thatch wonders if Ace really understands what that meant. A good parent, a good father is definitely a foreign concept to him (and unfortunately for Luffy too, Thatch has found, and knows that Pops will adopt her the moment he meets her if he hasn't already). And the Whitebeard pirates don't take the bonds of family lightly.

So while yes, Thatch is here for his own adventures, he's also very aware of what he represents, both to his family and to the world. For his family, his presence on board maintains the connection between the Whitebeards and Ace. Ace is still so very new to their family, and while no one doubts his competence, he still has much to go in terms of learning to rely on them, on learning that the Whitebeard pirates will ALWAYS have his back. And well, East Blue is kinda far away, too far for a shout to be heard on the Moby. So Thatch is here acting as their representative, and he couldn't be more honored to have the role. He is, if nothing else, excellent at being a nagging older brother, and it's the role he's easily found himself fitting into here.

But the other reason is that Thatch is the Fourth Division Commander of the Whitebeards, and no one who knows anything about pirates would fail to recognize him, and the weight of his presence. He knows people won't immediately make the connection that this crew has already been adopted, or even what that means because it's not quite the same as ally, but Thatch's presence establishes an undeniable connection between them and one of the Four Emperors. Thatch knows that when he makes eye contact with the marines and they balk, it's not just him they see: it's the huge, looming shadow of Whitebeard himself. And until the world learns to see that shadow behind Ace, behind all of the ASL pirates, well, Thatch will stay right here.

The blue gull on the rail looks at Thatch expectantly, and Thatch lets it perch on his shoulder as he makes his way to the kitchen. Sanji glances up in surprise and squints at the bird, but doesn't say anything as he returns to preparing dessert for the ladies (it's a reminder that Thatch should be doing that too, or else the snot-nosed cook will one up him in earning the favor of Luffy, or at least her stomach). Thatch decides to make this quick, and grabs two cookies from the hidden cookie jar, as well as some parchment and a writing utensil.

Thatch knows Marco wants to know how they're doing, but well, the timing of the gull is awfully convenient, so he's taking advantage.

Dear Blue Chicken Sauteed in Pineapple Sauce, Thatch writes, taking advantage of the opportunity to write in "code," despite the lack of confidential information and low risk of one of Marco's blue gulls being stopped. He'll take every opportunity to tease, thank you.

The stove on this ship works great, and the fish is beautiful. Thatch's pen moves before he really thinks about what's coming out. She's stolen my heart, I think I want to marry her. Thatch pauses...huh, well, honestly he's not exaggerating, is he? He'll let Marco guess how serious he is. (he's suddenly uncomfortable because he's not sure how serious he is himself, but that's a thought for another time)

And now, the most important part of the letter: PS - I dropped my hair wax in the ocean. Can you send me an extra from my room?

Because, tragically, Thatch had--and now his beautiful pompadour is a sad mess that's tumbling down his shoulders. Thatch knows he could pick up another tub of hair wax on any of the islands they’ve stopped at, but he has standards, and he needs his special wax that he’s used for decades, which is unfortunately only found in the New World.

Which makes his current situation stuck in East Blue quite tragic, except it isn't quite as heart-breaking as Thatch had thought it'd be, once he realized how much Luffy likes playing with his loose locks, and the sheer number of times Thatch has been finding himself overboard recently would have made putting his hair up again after every time a pain--but well. It'd still be nice to have the familiar weight of his hair wax in his pocket again.

Thatch decides to omit the major change with himself since he last saw Marco that resulted in the hair wax being lost in the first place: the fact that he's eaten a devil fruit. Because that's a surprise. Thatch wants to see Marco's face when he realizes how badass Thatch has become, controlling Darkness of all things. (well, Thatch has to actually get good at it first, and stop almost drowning. It's coming along)

Thatch wraps one cookie in the letter, tying it into a neat parcel, and feeds the other to the bird as thanks for his services. The bird takes off as soon as Thatch opens the door.

Well, now Thatch has a lovely mermaid to feed, and a baby cook to outclass.

~~

Thatch sees the next blue gull a week later, damn those things are fast. It's carrying a parcel this time, and Thatch reaches out gleefully, because he doesn't remember the last time he's had his hair down for this long and he can't wait to have his signature hair style once more.

The bird doesn't stick around this time, and instead just drops the parcel into Thatch's hands before wheeling back the way it came.

And...huh. The parcel's not the right size, or weight to be Thatch's hair wax.

Thatch squints suspiciously, as Ace comes to stand by him, staring after the gull. "Marco?" he asks, and Thatch grunts, already feeling grumpy and just knowing he's not gonna be thrilled by whatever Marco sent.

He opens the parcel, and inside is a little blue bauble, wrapped in Marco's infuriatingly precise, fancy shmancy handwriting.

Dear Soggy Bread, congratulations on graduating from a baguette. May you evolve into a better bread next time. PS - The stone's for baby brother^2.

Ace ignores Thatch's enraged yowl and plucks up the stone--before cursing and dropping it. Thatch's reflexes manage to catch it before it hits the deck--and he immediately knows why Ace dropped it in the first place.

The stone immediately feels weird, not necessarily in a bad way, but in a way that distinctively reminds Thatch of the sea. He's familiar with what the stone is, but not how it feels, and is reminded once again of his relatively new status as a devil fruit user. At Ace's questioning (and wary) look, Thatch explains, as a good older brother should.

It's a special stone made on Fishman island. There's a piece of seastone at its core, and then it's wrapped in a mix of glass and crystal. It's a luxury trinket popular with a lot of young mermaids, because it's pretty, but also feels like the essence of the ocean is in it, which can be immensely comforting to most merfolk and fishmen.

While not the purpose, the glass and crystal casing also ensures that devil fruit users can touch it without feeling weakened, though they can still sense the sea from it, hence why it feels weird.

Thatch hates, hates to admit it, but it's a ridiculously thoughtful (and expensive) gift for a mermaid devil fruit user who can't enjoy the sea directly, damn Marco for thinking of it first! The bastard's definitely teasing Thatch by trying to woo his crush from half a world away. Marco hasn't even met her, this is just a game to him, but Thatch's serious, damnit!!!

Thatch wishes he could be petty enough to lie and say the bauble is a gift from Thatch, but he can't, because as much of an asshole as Marco can be, Thatch still loves him. Sigh.

Luffy chooses that moment to slide across the deck to them like a playful sea lion, slamming into Ace's legs and snaking up him in a split second to peer over his shoulder at whatever her brother's looking at in Thatch's hand. Ace isn't fazed and doesn't even twitch.

Thatch sighs dramatically. Adorable little brothers and their adorable little brother^2s, damnit.

Thatch dutifully presents the little stone to Luffy, as Ace warns her not to drop it, it's gonna feel a bit weird ok. Thatch lets Ace take over rattling off the information he'd just conveyed, doing his own duty as Older Brother, and is instead transfixed by the way Luffy's eyes widen in wonder as she rolls the shiny thing from one hand to the other.

While Luffy's not really the type for jewelry or trinkets, it's clear she's enthralled by the stone, the way she is with few inanimate objects other than food. Thatch belatedly notices that the stone's a brilliant crystal teal, with shards of gold obscuring the dark seastone center, the same color as someone's Zoan form. Bastard.

"Who's it from?" Luffy asks, and Thatch knows he's told her about his crew before, but she's unlikely to have remembered any names.

He may not lie about who the gift's from, but it doesn't mean he can't take revenge.

"A pineapple man who can turn into a burning chicken," he says with a straight face, ignoring Ace's frantic gestures to abort.

Thatch finds out why moments later, as Luffy's eyes widen impossibly more, and he belatedly realizes that to Luffy (and probably only Luffy), he'd just made Marco sound like the coolest person on earth.

Thatch meets Ace's furious eyes apologetically even as Luffy's COOOOOL!!!!!! rips across deck, and they both sigh.

They're not looking forward to Luffy meeting Marco

~~

~~

Hope you enjoyed! As always, comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated and encourage me to create more for this AU! ^ ^

❀ ❀ Send YukiPri an Ask! ❀ ❀

Read the next part: Marco’s Bauble, Part 2

~This ask has been added to the Mermaid AU Text Headcanons Compilation post~

[eddiemunsonssoulmate]

Can you save me from this nothing I've become?

Pairing: Kook!JJ x Pogue!Reader

Word Count: 4.5k

Summary: Life Swap AU. JJ grew up as a sheltered boy in a golden cage in Figure Eight and doesn’t even have a clue how life in the Cut is like. That is until he meets you, the perfect example for life in an abusive household drowning in poverty. 

Warnings: A little bit of sadness, mentions of abuse, mostly fluffy tho

Available on: AO3

A/N: @outabanks​ asked me to write this for her so I tried. It’s a little different from anything else I’ve written so far and it was quite hard to find a tone for JJ now that he didn’t grow up in a physical abusive home and probably wouldn’t react with so much violence. I went with him feeling trapped, lonely and just sad inside due to him more suffering from emotional abuse. Also, switching POVs! Have fun!

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“Yes, Charlotte, I make sure to pick out my best outfit.” JJ groaned at his stepmother and went to his own bathroom to take a shower.

She was really annoying sometimes but after his mother and father divorced, he had been quick to replace her to maintain the image, dragging his mother’s name through mud in the process.

Figure Eight was a place where you grew up comfortably and never had to worry about a thing, at least on the outside.

JJ had grown up as the typical rich kid, getting everything he wanted. Problem was, he had been showered with money, not love, meaning he was missing what was most important. Back when his mother was still here, she had been the only person to show him what life really meant but she hadn’t been around for too long. Actually, he never got to know why she had left.

When Charlotte had married his father, it got even worse. Money here, fancy clothes there. She had never been a mother to him, she also never even tried as she wasn’t interested in him and only the money his dad had.

Whatever, he didn’t care about her either, he just wished she would leave him in peace once in a while but whenever he planned to go outside and do something she always came running and told him how to dress so he would look the best.

Tomorrow was another charity event and she had been stressing about the right clothes for weeks and he wouldn’t have any of it.

JJ got out of the shower with a sigh, towel around his waist and hair still dripping a little on the floor beneath him. He knew he had a good life, technically but sometimes he wondered how it felt to be a normal kid, growing up downtown or the Cut. He had never been down there actually, only heard that people from the Cut were poor but in comparison to the people from Figure Eight, poor couldn’t be too bad, right?

The reason he had never been down there was his father. He might look like the perfect father on the outside but on the inside, he was rotting away, fueled by his addiction for money and a wealthy lifestyle. One wrong step and JJ would suffer, in either emotional and very rarely physical way.

He was trapped in a golden cage he couldn’t escape until he was old enough which would still take a few more years. He just had to hold on, pretend to like his life when they were in public and just be done with it.

“We’re off then, son. See you tomorrow!” his father yelled from downstairs as JJ got dressed in some loser clothes so he could enjoy his time home alone.

“Yeah, have fun,” he said nonchalantly, not really caring about them leaving to visit the Cameron’s to talk about some preparations for tomorrow.

When he heard the front door shut he let out a sigh of relief and lay down on his bed, staring up at the ceiling. They wouldn’t be back until past midnight, that’s always how it went.

It was the perfect time to think about how lonely he actually was. His parents divorced, his mother not even calling or writing him, his dad only caring about money and his new wife. Friends? Sadly none. Kook Academy wasn’t the place where he wanted to be and he had a hard time blending in. It was a place where everyone was so narcissistic and wanted to show off all they had. Also really competitive people. Who had the bigger car, who had the more expensive outfit, things like that.

The only person he rarely talked to at events was Kiara, a wealthy girl from the neighborhood next to his own. He heard that she was hanging around with the Pogues in the Cut but he never asked her about it. They mostly just saw each other, nodded briefly and started drinking together. He listened to her rambling about saving turtles in a drunken state later on while he made flirty comments she always shut down very quickly. It was a simple way to pass the time while trying to get through the evening.

His father told him to befriend the Cameron’s but to be honest? No. Wheezie was just a little girl, Sarah was the princess around here and he had no desire to walk around with royalty and get judged by only that. Rafe was a dick, he had actually tried to befriend him when they were younger but that boy had massive issues.

So yep, loneliness it was. On the outside, his life was perfect but on the inside he was struggling. One day he would escape, go to the mainland and do his own thing. He wanted to get far away from Outer Banks and his father, all these riches he had. There was enough money on his own bank account to help him get started but JJ wanted to work with his own hands, get dirty, live the life he wanted.

Suddenly he heard a crash in the front yard and he shot up from his bed, opening the door to his balcony and looked outside, trying to see something in the darkness. It took a moment for his eyes to get used to the missing light before he scanned the garden. A vase was shattered to the left and to the right…

Shit!

Someone was face down in their pool and it looked like they weren’t moving.

JJ rushed downstairs and to the garden, quickly jumping in to get the person out. He put the body down next to the pool, slapping the cheek slightly. Luckily enough he had been quick enough and the person was waking up, spitting out a little bit of water.

“I don't think it’s the best time to take a swim,” he said while he sat there on his knees, looking over at the girl that couldn’t be older than he was.

She wasn’t answering, just looking at him for a moment before closing her eyes again, passing out once more.

    When you woke up, you had no idea where you were. The bed under you felt softer than your own and you had a huge headache. Also, you were wearing comfortable clothes for some reason. Still a dream? Maybe.

You slowly opened your eyes, afraid that feeling of warmth would be gone now but it didn’t vanish. As you were looking around you noticed a boy on the ground, wrapped in a blanket and you blinked. 

Looking down at your body told you that you were totally not wearing your own clothes. These were really fine and soft, it almost felt like they were giving you a warm hug.

It took awhile for you to connect the dots but then your face turned white. The boy on the ground had seen you naked.

“Perv!” you suddenly yelled and threw the pillow behind you at him which caused him to stir.

“What the fuck,” he mumbled and got up and for the first time, you got a good look at these blue eyes and the messy, blonde bed hair. “This is what I get for saving your ass?”

Saving your ass? You frowned and now that you thought about it, you had no idea what had happened last night after you ran away from home. You knew you had been drinking to try and stop the pain but then it all went black.

“What do you mean?” you asked and tilted your head a little to the side like a lost puppy.

“Apparently you were either really fond of having a swim or trying to drown yourself in my pool,” he said while he got up, stretching and showing off his body to you. Of course he was not wearing a shirt, why would he. It was too hot for that anyway. He was too hot. Shit, focus!

“I wasn’t drowning myself,” you said even though you wished that had worked.

Silence fell over you for a moment while he just stood there, looking at your miserable form before he rubbed the back of his neck and looked clearly uncomfortable.

“Look, I’ve seen the bruises…,” he started and you looked back at him, clenching your jaw. Of course he had seen the bruises, he had seen you naked and they were quite visible all over your body.

“It’s nothing. Where are my clothes? I want to leave.” You didn’t want to stay here and talk to a stranger that apparently saved you from drowning. Oh. That was probably why you were wearing different clothes, he had taken care of them so you wouldn’t get a cold. Well, not exactly the first thought you had but thank god you still had your virginity.

“Do you need help?” he asked softly and crouched in front the bed which caused you to frown. No one had ever asked you that. It took a long moment before you shook your head.

“No, I’ll be fine.” You nodded and got out of bed which made him stand up again. He was taller than you were and you bit your bottom lip while looking around in his room some more. This was clearly not the Cut. This looked like a Figure Eight house. Oh god, had you wandered that far?

“Can I make you breakfast at least? My parents are still asleep,” he said and you chewed on your lip a little before you nodded. Your stomach was dying inside as you hadn't eaten in two days because your aunt prefered to let you starve while she spent all her money on alcohol and drugs. You wished your parents were still alive but that wasn’t an option.

“Alright, wait here, I’ll bring you some up.” With that he was already gone and you went back under the soft blanket. If you would stand up more your head was probably going to explode and you would fall due to it’s spinning non stop. Laying down was good. Sitting upright a little was good too.

You had never seen this boy before which wasn’t a surprise given that you had been to Figure Eight only one or two times with Kiara. The Pogues were the only reason to get out of bed in the morning but currently, they were all doing their own thing which was fine but also made you sad a little.

The blonde boy was up quicker than you thought and he put the tray down on your legs with a smile.

“I’m JJ, by the way,” he said as he grabbed the chair from his desk and rolled it over, taking one of the plates from the try to put some food on it.

You blinked at all the food in front of you and you were sure you hadn’t seen that many at once, at least not something you were allowed to eat. Bread buns, scrambled egg, different kinds of sausages and grapes. He must have noticed how skinny you were.

“I’m (y/n),” you simply said while staring at the food, not even sure if you could eat but when you looked at him eating and he smiled at you, you couldn’t stop yourself.

It was a feast for you. Did he always have breakfasts like that? God, what a lucky person.

“Nice to meet you, (y/n). Wanna tell me now why you were swimming in my pool at midnight?” he asked and grinned a little. He wanted to get details but he didn’t want to completely ruin the mood, something you could appreciate.

You didn’t know him and you weren’t easily trusting a person but he saved you, made you breakfast and you would probably never see him again, so you kinda owed him, right? Also he had already seen the bruises and given all the books he had in his room, he seemed to be a smart boy that had figured it all out on his own already.

“I was trying to get away from life,” you mumbled with your mouth full and he raised an eyebrow at that. “Got beat up, didn’t eat for two days, ran away to drink the pain away and then it went all black but it seems like I wanted to get a look at a life I’ll never have and then I somehow ended up in your pool. I wasn’t trying to drown myself, I promise.”

Well, the mood he had been trying to maintain was totally ruined by your words now. You spoke them so casually like they were no big deal but you saw how his eyes widened and he stopped eating while you still continued. Yes, your life was pure shit but it would be okay one day. One day you’d get out of your aunt’s death grip and get the life you deserved.

“I-,” he started but didn’t seem to be able to finish so you waved off. 

“It’s fine. It happens. Something you can’t understand, no offense.” He was living a good life full of privileges and riches, of course he wouldn’t understand what you went through and that was okay. You didn’t want his pity, he didn’t seem to care about people at the Cut anyway. 

“I might not understand your life but you obviously don’t understand my life either,” he chuckled and took some grapes to eat. You raised both eyebrows at him, what did he mean? Apparently he could read the face you were making and continued. “Life here isn’t all that great either. I may not suffer from a lot of physical abuse but emotional one. Being rich isn’t always good, ya know.”

“I’d kill for being rich,” you blurted out and it made him laugh. He had a beautiful laugh but it also sounded really sad for some reason.

“Yeah, that’s probably how a lot of people here became rich.” That made you laugh too, he was probably right. You knew a few Kooks that looked like they had killed for their wealth.

You both ate in silence and when you were done, he put the tray away to look at you with a look that you couldn’t quite place.

“Where are my clothes?” you asked to break the stare and he nodded.

“I’ll get them, one second,” he said and walked over into a room which was...his bathroom? God, he even had his own bathroom. What the fuck.

JJ came out with them again and they looked so much cleaner than before. “Did you wash them?” you asked because it didn’t look like it was just the pool water.

“Yeah, they looked like they needed it,” he said and put them over the bed. When you grabbed them you felt how soft they were now after the cleaning and you smiled a little to yourself. They also smelled really good.

You got out of the bed and pressed past him into the bathroom so you could get changed. When you came out of it again you felt old and new at the same time. Thankfully, the headache was slowly fading away.

“Alright, thanks for saving me, I’ll be off then,” you exclaimed as you had occupied him enough now. He already knew more about you than a stranger should and you had to get out of here before he tried to play your savior.

You had already a hand at the doorknob when he reached out to you, grabbing your arm to stop you from leaving. Of course he had to do that.

“I know this isn’t any of my business but if you ever need help, come here, okay? I’ll try my best,” he said and normally you would huff at such an offer as you had been disappointed so many times in your life but for some reason, he sounded so absolutely genuine that you nodded. You believed him but you also had no desire to get back here any time soon. Figure Eight wasn’t the place you wanted to be, it only reminded you of what could have been but wasn’t.

“Thanks,” you mumbled and he let go of you.

    Two weeks had passed and he couldn’t get the girl out of his head. There had been something that made him want to save her even though she seemed to be the kind of girl that didn’t want saving. 

Something deep inside of him was screaming at him to find you and that’s exactly what he did right now. His father would kill him but he didn’t care anymore. It was like there was a strange bond that was pulling him closer to you and away from the life he didn’t want.

The Cut was different than he had expected. During his sheltered life, downtown had been the only area he had visited, it was almost like an invisible wall that his father had placed here, not allowing him to go any further. As a kid he had been curious about it but after a while of useless attempts to convince his father he had given up on getting to know the rest of the island.

He couldn’t say why he didn’t try again now that he was older. Maybe he really wasn’t interested anymore after all those years. Maybe it was his father’s voice that was echoing in his head the closer he got to that invisible wall.

Until he broke through it. He drove past that magical line that had kept him and suddenly he saw what was really going on. They weren’t just a little less fortunate than the people from Figure Eight. His dad had lied to him and he felt sick for a moment.

He drove past small shacks, some looking like they would get blown away by the next storm. They were just poor and lived in poverty. Well, maybe not all of them but the further he drove away from the downtown area the more sad and wild it looked around him. There was also a strange feeling of freedom to it, he couldn’t really describe it.

Figure Eight was all beautiful houses and big mansions, perfectly cut grass, cars and pools. Everything had to be perfect but this? Lots of people didn’t care about their grass, he saw some old cars and trucks, some people had a small boat but nothing compared to the yacht his father owned. It was so different and he hated himself for never coming here. When did he become such an ignorant person?

Something suddenly jumped out of the bushes to the right and he hit the breaks, barely stopping in front of the person who was standing right in front of his car, looking straight at him.

“What the fuck?!” the girl yelled and he would always recognize that voice, it had almost burned into his soul. She was so different from everything he knew. Looks like the string that was pulling him had reached its destination.

    Great, now some idiot tried to run you over while you were busy running away from Barry. This couldn’t get any worse. You were about to keep running when you saw who got out of the car. It was the blonde pretty boy with the sad eyes from Figure Eight that you kept dreaming about for the last two weeks. A wink of destiny? Either way, it looked like he was your escape.

JJ got out of the car and smiled at you, slowly coming over to you, probably wanting to make sure you were okay but he barely scraped you. 

“JJ?” you asked in disbelief and he chuckled a little. It was weird to see him here, out of place, so far away from home.

“If I wouldn’t know any better I’d say you tried to get him by a car this time,” he said and laughed when he saw you glare. You really didn’t have time for this bullshit. Yes, being dead would be better sometimes given your circumstances but right now you’d prefer to prevent that.

You threw a look behind you and then back at him. “In the car,” you hissed and shoved him back to his side of the car while you got in on the other side.

“Drive,” you said and looked out to the right side where you had been coming from but he looked at you confused.

Barry came out of the bushes and you turned around to JJ in a split second, pressing your lips against his, hoping to make Barry think that it was just a rich couple that came down here to make out. He wasn’t the brightest candle on the cake after all.

When you saw him leave out of the corner of your eye you sighed into the kiss but only slowly moved away. JJ’s lips felt good, pressed against yours like it was the only thing he had ever wanted.

Reality hit and you pulled back, swallowing slightly. “Sorry uhm...just needed to distract that guy,” you mumbled and licked your lips, still tasting him.

“What was that about?” he asked and seemed a little dumbfounded by the sudden kiss.

“I was running from our local drug dealer,” you explained like it was the most normal thing to do. Maybe you had stolen him some money but you only wanted food and you knew where he stored it so you might as well just borrow it. For a very long time.

“You could have just hidden on the backseat, you know,” he teased and wiggled his eyebrows which caused you to slap him slightly against the shoulder.

“It was a distraction kiss, nothing else. Don’t let it get to your head,” you said ang took a deep breath when you felt your body relax.

“What now? Any place I can drive you to?” he suddenly asked and you looked over at him, thinking for a moment. You’d be safe with John B and the others as you wanted to meet up later anyway. You nodded and gave him some quick directions.

“So, what are you doing here?” you asked and watched him drive. He had such a pretty face if those eyes wouldn’t be so sad. You wondered why he was like that, he had everything you could wish for and yet, he was still so sad.

“Actually, I was looking for you. I also had never been down to the Cut, my father always keeping me from it so I wanted to take a look.” His voice was so smooth and you had the urge to just press your lips against his once more.

What the fuck was going on in your head? God, that needed to stop, he was a Kook after all. No good came from them.

“Why were you looking for me?” It was beyond you why he would come here only to find you. You were just some girl he had saved from her own stupidity. On the other hand, you couldn’t deny that you hoped to see him again shortly after you had left his place back then. There had been something about him that was pulling you closer and those dreams you had weren’t for nothing. He was special in a way you couldn’t describe just yet.

“I don’t know, to be honest. I just had the feeling I had to,” he said and it confirmed your feelings. He also didn’t really know what he was doing here, just like you didn’t know why you wanted him here.

It was a strange connection that had formed within a couple of hours two weeks ago, a connection that didn’t break. Normally people meet other people, establish some kind of relationship between them. Acquaintances, friends, work colleagues, stuff like that. Sometimes you just meet a stranger, talk to them and then break the connection off.

That’s what you thought this would be but the connection was still there, it was deep in your bones and your mind.

Stupid Kook, about to turn your world around.

You arrived at the Chateau where John B was already coming over before JJ could turn the motor off. He obviously wasn’t used to such cars arriving at his place, that’s why you got out first.

“It’s me!” you yelled and JB visibly relaxed before taking another look at the car and the boy coming out of there.

“Who’s that?” he asked and frowned at you but you just waved off. 

“That’s JJ. He saved me, two times to be exact. He’s cool.” You waved JJ over and he followed you step to John B. You gave him a quick hug and then saw how JJ held out his hand.

You glared at John B and he groaned slightly before shaking JJ’s hand.

“I don’t know why you’d bring a Kook here,” he grumbled and you hit his arm slightly.

“I told you, he is cool. He’s pool boy.” You might have mentioned that accident to your friends without any names or mentioning that your blonde savior was a Kook. Oops.

“Pool boy?” a female voice said while coming out of the house and you waved at Kie.

“Kiara?” JJ suddenly said and looked over at her, watching how she stopped in her tracks. You looked between the two of them forth and back.

“JJ?” Yup, they totally knew each other.

“Donkey?” you threw in and laughed a little at your Shrek reference, causing the others to laugh too.

“You know each other?” John B said in choir and the both nodded.

“Yeah, he’s the guy that keeps me grounded at all the Kook events. We drink and make it through the night somehow. He’s cool,” Kiara explained and JJ nodded in agreement.

“See, told you,” you teased John B and he just rolled your eyes. He sometimes acted like a big brother when he wasn’t drowning in his own shit.

“Are you staying? I know what it feels like to be a Kook, so I might as well show you my escape”, Kiara said and JJ rubbed the back of his neck with his hand.

You laughed a little because he seemed so out of place right now but you could tell he probably needs an escape from life once in a while.

“Okay, show me,” JJ said and you grinned at him. It was a reckless thing to do, taking a Kook in but technically, Kiara was one too and if she and JJ got along, he would also get along with Pope and John B. It might just take a while but it would be okay.

There was this feeling inside of you that was telling you to help him, to make his eyes look sad and to hear a genuine laugh from him.

[iam93percentstardust]

This isn’t really a specific prompt but something with Steve and Tony being super intimate and soft with each other, where they go from Tony sitting on Steve’s lap to chat for hours to making out/sex to chatting again and just really enjoying each other’s company please 🤗

Okay, first of all, let me just tell you how much I love this prompt. I haven’t written my favorite soft boys in far too long and this was such a delight to work on. I’ve missed my darlings.

Secondly, I never really got to the chatting part but this is still so soft and sweet and I think you’ll really like it.

I’ve given up all hope for the read more so I’m tagging this as long post if you want to blacklist

Soft, My Love ~1.8k words Explicit sexual content On AO3 here

Never, in a million years, would Tony complain about waking up next to his husband but he will admit that it’s a surprise. Usually Tony wakes up while Steve is on his run. He would think that Steve had already finished his run and he just woke up late but when he checks the clock, he sees that it’s still early.

Steve is on his side, head propped up on his hand, smiling softly at him. The sun is coming through the windows behind him, lighting him up like an angel. Tony rolls his head so that his face is mostly buried in the pillow and only one eye is peeking out to look at his husband. 

“Aren’t you usually up by now?” he mumbles, not yet fully awake himself.

Steve leans over and kisses his shoulder. “I thought we might stay in today, take it easy. What do you say, Shellhead?”

Tony stretches and hums. “No going anywhere?”

“Not at all.”

“No meetings?”

“Already cleared your schedule with JARVIS and Pepper.”

“Just a lazy day inside?”

“Yep.”

“…What’s the occasion?”

Steve laughs, full-bodied, clutching at his chest. “Only you, sweetheart. Only you would be suspicious of a staycation.”

Tony can’t help but smile as well. “You really mean it?” he asks. “Just the two of us locked away up here?”

“Is that a yes?”

He pushes himself up, Steve sitting up as he does, and swings a leg over Steve’s. He loosely locks his hands around his husband’s neck and leans in to kiss him, gently, chastely because while Steve might not care about morning breath, Tony does. Steve cups his cheek before his hand slides down to rest gently at the back of his head. They rest there for a minute—or maybe forever, who’s counting?—before Tony pulls back.

He moves his right hand to cup Steve’s cheek, who turns and kisses his palm. God, he loves this man. “Staying inside sounds amazing.”

“In that case, how does breakfast sound?” Steve offers and Tony nods. “Eggs and turkey bacon?”

They go through their morning routine automatically, brushing teeth and putting on lounge clothes, moving around each other with an ease born from many years of practice.

Steve scoops him up once they’re done, Tony’s head laying against his shoulder, and carries him from the bedroom into the kitchen and sets him down on one of the stools at the island. Tony, still a little asleep, slumps down onto the countertop, resting his head against the cool quartz. He watches Steve putter around the kitchen, drifting in and out of a light doze until a cup of steaming coffee is put in front of him.

“There you go,” Steve says gently. “Coffee with your milk.”

Tony smiles at him gratefully. He knows it drives Steve crazy that Tony likes to add so much stuff to his coffee that it barely tastes like coffee anymore but hey, he drinks it because he needs the wakeup, not because it tastes good.

He sips at the cup as Steve finishes making breakfast and sits down across from him with two plates in his hand, sliding one across the table to Tony as he makes grabby hands. Tony catches his hand before it can fully pull away and they eat like that in companionable silence, fingers loosely interlocked.

“What’re you in the mood for today?” Steve asks as Tony clears the plates, rinses them, and puts them in the dishwasher. “Back to bed, out to the living room, something else?”

Tony half-wants to suggest back to bed, not for sex, but just to sleep a little longer. The hour is still early, they wouldn’t be wasting time by getting another nap in. But he thinks about the book Steve has been reading to him over the last couple of weeks and he suggests instead, “Will you read to me?”

“Do you even have to ask?” Steve teases. They settle in the living room, Steve in one of the armchairs with his feet resting on the footstool, Tony sitting between his legs, back pressed to Steve’s chest. Steve grabs the book from the table beside them as Tony gets comfortable.

“’And now of course you want to know what had happened to Edmund,’” Steve begins. Tony leans his head back against his husband’s shoulder and closes his eyes, relaxing into the story. Steve pauses and kisses his forehead. “’He had eaten his share of the dinner, but he hadn’t really enjoyed it because he was thinking all the time about Turkish Delight—and there’s nothing that spoils the taste of good ordinary food half so much as the memory of bad magic food.’ Hmm, reminds me of you and cheeseburgers.”

“Reader’s personal opinions are not necessary for reading,” Tony says archly. Steve chuckles and kisses him again. 

They get through four chapters, the words washing over Tony in a haze, before Steve finally says, “’Rise up, Sir Peter Wolf’s-Bane. And, whatever happens, never forget to wipe your sword,’” and closes the book.

Tony squirms, feeling a little numb in uncomfortable places now that he doesn’t have anything else to focus on. Steve coughs as something hard pokes Tony’s backside—and he bets he knows what it is. He squirms again, biting back a laugh as the something hard grows harder. He opens his eyes to see Steve’s own blue ones going dark and blown. Steve puts the book down and then puts his hands on Tony’s hips to still him.

“What?” Tony asks innocently. “I’m just trying to get comfortable.”

“Don’t mess with me like that. That hasn’t worked in years.”

“I could take care of it for you.” Steve looks torn and Tony continues, “You wouldn’t have to do any work. I’d ride you.”

Steve still doesn’t look wholly convinced so Tony turns and straddles him, rising up on his knees to shimmy his sweatpants down off his hips. Automatically, Steve looks down before jerking his gaze up and settling on a point somewhere beyond Tony’s shoulder.

He laughs. “Steve, baby, we’ve been married for a year. You’re allowed to look without asking.”

“Don’t want to presume,” Steve mumbles.

Aww, that’s sweet of him. Tony kisses him, slowly, lazily, pouring all his love and affection into the kiss. One of Steve’s hands presses against his back to keep him steady, holding him as they kiss. The other one palms Tony’s ass, fingers sliding between his cheeks to press at where he’s still open and a little wet from last night. Tony breaks their kiss and leans to the side, scrabbling for the lube he knows they keep in the drawer in the table.

“You or me?” he asks and then decides that he doesn’t really care what Steve’s answer is, he just wants something in him, so he pours the lube over his own fingers and reaches behind himself. One finger feels amazing but two is even better and when they’re joined by one of Steve’s fingers, Tony moans out loud at how good it feels. He pulls his fingers out, lets Steve take over entirely as Steve pushes back in with three fingers now. Tony rocks back on Steve’s fingers, forward to rub his cock against his stomach, whining when he can feel Steve’s cock through his pants but doesn’t have the capacity to even think let alone push Steve’s pants off.

He’s stretched and open and buzzing like a live wire when Steve finally pulls his fingers out. He pants for a moment, trying to gather his thoughts enough to take care of the pesky pants problem. Steve just smiles fondly, lifts him with one hand, and pushes his own waistband down just enough to free his dick. When he lowers Tony back down, it’s onto his cock, sliding into him, spreading him—oh—so open.

They rock together, lazy, languorous, with slow rolls of their hips, in no rush to finish. They don’t get to do this often, this molasses-slow sort of sex. The life of one superhero is busy enough but two superheroes is even worse and that doesn’t even take into account Tony’s social obligations. Times like this—unhurried, slow, sweet—are few and far between, which makes this moment all the more precious.

“Steve,” he whispers. “Kiss me.”

And Steve does, kisses him slow and sweet and lingering until Tony feels like he’s drowning in it, drowning in Steve. He’s never come like this before, just from being kissed and loved and held, but he does now, feels sensation washing over him like the tide. He sighs into Steve’s mouth as he spills between them and Steve groans as he finds his own release. Steve holds him even closer as Tony relaxes into him, come smearing onto his stomach. They sit there for a long minute, breathing the same air, calming each other with soft kisses and gentle touches.

“Come on,” Tony says eventually, when the come on his stomach is starting to cool and itch, even though he wants nothing more than to keep laying there. “We need a shower.”

“Don’t wanna,” Steve grumbles. Tony smiles fondly at the pout between Steve’s eyes. He reaches up to smooth away the little furrow.

“I know but we’re gonna regret it if we don’t.”

Steve sighs but he stands still with his hold on Tony, slipping out of his body. Tony wraps his legs around Steve’s hips, letting him carry him. JARVIS has already started the shower by the time they reach the bathroom. The steam fills the room, warm and relaxing, and Tony inhales deeply, feeling his muscles unclench from the last little bit of tension he hadn’t even realized he was holding onto.

They wash each other, motions languid and sleepy. “You thinking about a nap after this?” Steve asks as he finishes rubbing shampoo into Tony’s hair. “Eyes closed.”

Tony obediently closes his eyes, feels Steve’s hand above his eyes, shielding him from the water he’s tilted back into. “Nap sounds good,” he admits. “What about you?”

“Thought I might draw some.”

“Mkay,” Tony says sleepily.

Somehow, he knows that they make it back to their bedroom and into their bed but if someone had asked him, he couldn’t have told them how. Steve sits down, back against the headboard, legs stretched out in front of him. Tony, from his place next to him, glances between his pillow and Steve’s inviting lap. After a moment, he squirms over and tucks himself up against Steve’s side, resting his head on Steve’s lap.

“Am I in the way?” he asks, already half-asleep.

“Not at all, sweetheart,” Steve murmurs.

He drifts off to the sound of the pencil scratching against paper and the feeling of Steve’s soothing fingers carding through his hair.

[scatterpatter]

Corren - 1 through 100 - You did this to yourself.

FUCK YOU *UN-IRONICS YOUR ASK*

UNDER THE FUCKING CUT

1. What do they smell like?

Bad. Do you think their party is able to regularly take showers? I thinketh the fuck not. ... Pine and old books when he can self care tho.

2. What is their voice like?

Listen I know Corren, being taller, would be more likely to have a deeper register but you'll tear "tenor Corren" out of my cold dead hands

3. What is their biggest motivator?

Spite.

4. What is their most embarrassing memory?

When he first met his BFF Alondra, he was so antisocial and good at ignoring people that she actually got the impression he might have been hard of hearing. She never let him live that down. (one day I'll finish this fic i promise)

5. How do they deal with/react to pain?

"I will keep all of my pain in here, and one day I'll die." ... Okay but listen he's squishy so he takes like one hit and is bloodied up. Someone get him a healer. Pls.

6. What do they like to wear?

He likes his cloak. Its weighty and soft(well. WAS soft. got a bit of wear and tear these days.) and like. Who doesnt love cloaks.

7. Which of their relationships have impacted them most positively?

Ohhhhh fuuuccck this one's tough. I might have to go with Torvid honestly. While the entire party has had a positive impact on him(and trust me I was this close to picking Alistair), Torvid's been more of the one to call him out on his bullshit and to, oh I don't know, talk about your emotions? Ever??? Yknow BEFORE they become too much to handle and he absolutely breaks down???

8. What’s the weirdest thing they’ve ever eaten?

Alistair's cooking.

9. Describe the way that they sleep.

Good luck finding him NOT cuddled up with at least one dog. Tbh he just enjoys cuddles in general.

10. What is their favorite food/kind of food?

FUCKIN. GIVE HIM A GOOD STEAK. THIS BOY IS MOSTLY CARNIVORISTIC.

11. What do they feel most insecure about?

As tempted as I am to say "His cooking", it's actually his singing.

12. How do they like to dress?

"Comfort over flashiness tbh. I gotta go ADVENTURING in whatever I wear after all."

"... Also don't you DARE perceive me as cishet."

13. How do they react to feelings of guilt?

Call him a genie because he will BOTTLE THAT SHIT UP.

14. How do they react to/deal with betrayal?

Denial :D

15. What is their greatest achievement?

Shrike: Killing his dad

Me: NOOOOOO

EDIT: WAIT THIS WAS ANSWERED IN Q99 WHAT THE HECK

16. What are they like when they’ve gotten too little sleep?

Somehow more of a dick than usual. Snappy and cranky and just. Mrehhh.

17. What are they like when they’re drunk?

Doesn't get drunk often, but when he does I imagine he's actually giggly and a little clingy. It's cute :)

18. What kind of music do they enjoy?

*Opens my Corren playlist* Oh yeah. It's either full edgy alt rock or indie alt "depressed millenial" tracks.

19. Are they right or left handed?

FFFuuhhhhck uhhhh well

Looking over my old art I can't seem to pick a dominant hand(I've even drawn him handling his sniper with either hand???????????) so like oops guess he's ambidextrous.

20. Fears?

The dark, the ocean, dying alone and forgotten, his friends losing their trust of him

21. Favorite kind of weather?

Rain!!!! Especially cool rain like what people often get in fall months.

22. Favorite color?

Indigo!!!

23. Do they collect anything?

Books :3

24. Do they prefer either hot or cold weather more?

Cold weather by far.

25. What is their eye color?

Electric blue!

26. What is their race/ethnicity?

Well his race is a homebrew race known as Marelienth. Uhhh ethnicity? Idk he's from a mountain town way up north *shrugs*

In human aus I imagine him as half-Mongolian half-Norwegian so ayee

27. Hair color?

Black!

28. Are they happy where they are currently?

No :D He loves adventuring with his party don't get me wrong but he still has a lot of trauma to unpack. ... Also he was just possibly broken up with soooo. :/

29. Are they a morning person?

NOPE.

30. Sunrise or sunset?

*motions to above question* Sunset.

31. Are they more messy or more organized?

More organized, actually!

32. Pet peeves?

*unravels a list. It's all shit the party has done. Mostly Alistair.*

33. Do they own any objects of significant personal importance?

HOOUSIDSJFK- HE- Y-YEAH HE SURE DOES

His amethyst pendant used to belong to his brother, Julian, and he gave it to Corren right before they were separated so you BET it's sentimental as shit and he wears it daily.

34. Least favorite food?

Mecha's usually a great cook but one time trolled him with some absurdly spicy curry he couldn't handle and he's never forgiven them.

35. Least favorite color?

Hmmm. Maybe... yellow?

36. Least favorite smell?

He spent a year with his party in a damp cave and no showers, so uh. I'll give you a guess.

37. When was the last time they cried?

Literally last night in our game's timeline :D Full breakdown and everything!

38. Were they with anybody the last time they cried?

Torvid :D He was there to comfort

39. Tell us about one of the times they got injured?

One time they were in combat and Corren took a few hits and was down to about 2hp or so. He had a temporary level thanks to Kieran, which boosted his HP a little bit. When he teleported them to a safe town, though, well... Torvid was waiting for them so that's cool. But uh. Yeah that temporary level wore off then and there, dropping Corn Cob to exactly 0hp and he just- flopped down face first in the snow and started dying then and there KJNDKLFNSLKN

40. Do they have any scars?

:)

Do you want to talk about the scar over his eye from a fight he got in with his dad or like. The scars on his limbs from the time he was literally experimented on.

41. Do they struggle with any mental health issues?

:)

Undiagnosed+Untreated Anxiety, Depression, DPDR, PTSD, just to name a few

42. Do they have any bad habits?

Running away from his problems, definitely.

43. Why might someone dislike them?

He's a pretentious nerd. He can be a dick if he doesn't care about you.

44. Why might someone love them?

He's an adorable nerd! He's a hopeless romantic and oddly enough an optimist. He's passionate and driven too!

45. Do they believe in ghosts?

Well ghosts are like- a canon proven thing in his world sooo. Yeah.

46. Is there anyone they would trust with their lives?

His party. Well- most in his party.

47. Are they romantically interested in anyone?

Nethyl :)

48. Are they dating/married to anyone?

He's dating Nethyl and they're in a happy and healthy relationship :) *politely ignores canon*

49. Do they like surprises?

NO >:(

50. When is their birthday?

Heroya 5th! I think. I don't wanna check, assume it's this.

51. How do they usually celebrate their birthday?

"You guys celebrate your watchdays?"

Jokes aside, he mainly just treats himself to a nice dinner and a new book or something :)

52. Do they have any family?

Two older siblings: Julian and Mila. His parents are Andreas and Fanya!

53. Are they close to their family?

... *Coughs*. He was close with his siblings, but Mila died and he hasn't seen Julian in 30 years. Was close with his dad but last time they saw each other, they fought and Corren might have killed him so. ... Yeah. :/

54. What is their MBTI type?

FUCK uh. I... N... T... J? INTJ. Sure.

55. What is their zodiac sign?

In Sekrezia: The eagle

In our world: Uhhh. Idk. Capricorn????

56. What Hogwarts House would they be in?

Uhhh. Ravenclaw??? I know almost nothing about HP :/

57. What D&D alignment are they?

THIS ONE'S EASY- lawful neutral!

58. Do they ever have nightmares? If so, what about?

:)

Used to have typical nightmares, nothing special. Nowadays though he often dreams of being underwater. Not drowning, though. It's... weird. He doesn't like those.

59. What are their views on death?

He's a necromancer lol.

Death is inevitable, though. It's a necessary part of life. Death is not an entire loss, though. One lives on in the memories others carry of them, in the love they hold in their hearts. Death is complicated, but that's okay.

60. What is something that they’re sure to laugh at?

Alistair :)

61. When bored, how do they pass time?

Dog time :)

62. Do they enjoy being outside?

... Ehhhhhh?

63. Do they have an accent?

Technically??? It's an accent from where he's from but like. I just barely tweak my own voice when I rp him so? Damn Corren I'm sorry you've been cursed with east coast dialect.

64. Upon seeing a slice of chocolate cake, what is their first reaction?

"Damn who's the rich bastard here?" (cake is kinda a delicacy in their world- not like elites only but not NEARLY as common as it is here)

65. If they knew they were going to die, what would they do/say?

Reassurance mode to whomever he's with. "Hey, hey, it's okay. I'm okay. Remember what I told you, death is a natural part of life, yeah? I don't have any regrets, I'm okay... Just. Thanks. For giving me a chance. Thank you. Thank you."

66. How do they feel about sex?

I SWEAR he's allosexual. I'm just bad at writing allosexuals.

67. What is their sexuality?

He doesn't really know how to pin it down, so he just calls himself "queer". Definitely not straight, that's all he knows.

68. Do they become squeamish at the sight of blood?

AHAHA no. He's hella desensitized

69. Is there anything that they find really gross?

Skulking cyst. Look it up at your own volition. It's. NO.

70. Which TV Trope(s) best describes them?

It's 12:21 in the morning and I'm NOT about to scroll through a bunch of tv tropes just. just. NERD stereotype.

71. Do they enjoy helping people?

Yyyyes? Only really if it's the people he cares about.

72. Are they allergic to anything?

Bullshit.

73. Do they have a pet?

WINGTHARA!! HIS SKELE-DOG!!!

74. Are they quick to anger? What are they like when they loose their temper?

Oh yeah he's all bark and no bite. He usually just throws a little fit and/or yells.

75. How patient are they?

More than he should be :/

76. Are they good at cooking?

AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

77. Favorite insult? Do they insult people often?

Oh yes he insults the others all the time. No particular favorite, he likes so spice it up.

78. How do they act when they’re particularly happy?

Stim. Stim. Stim. His eyes get all sparkly and he. He.

79. What do they do when they learn about other people’s fears?

He will do everything in his power to assure they won't ever have to deal with their fears alone- You afraid of spiders? It's his job to get the spiders from now on so you won't have to deal with them.

80. Are they trustworthy?

Oh yeah. He's like Rapunzel- doesn't break promises.

81. Do they try to hide their emotions? Are they good at it?

Oh yes he tries to hide it. And yes, he's awful at it.

82. Do they exercise regularly?

Yes and no? No like- exercise regimen, but the amount of travelling and fighting they do is just- a workout in and of itself

83. Are they comfortable with the way they look?

Yeah! He's cute and he knows it baybie!!!

84. What are some physical features that they find attractive on people?

He,,, he likes someone who's physically stong,,, Muscles are,,, aaaaa >///>

85. What kind of personalities do they find attractive?

Someone he can nerd out with :)

86. Do they like sweet foods?

Impartial to it. He won't turn sweets away but he's not crazy about them either.

87. What is their age?

43, the equivalent of- I think someone in their mid 30s?

88. Are they tall or short or somewhere in between?

He's 6'8" :) Which is actually normal for his race

89. Do they wear glasses or contacts?

Sometimes! I like to think he has reading glasses or something like that.

90. Do they consider themselves attractive?

HE'S CUTE AND HE KNOWS IT.

91. What is their sense of humor like?

Julian tainted his sense of humor and now he finds the most dumb shit hilarious. Think very millenial/GenZ humor like "I wish I was Jared, 19"

92. What mood are they most often in?

"I don't get paid enough for this" or Fear.jpg

93. What kinds of things anger them?

People who don't keep their FUCKING WORD. Oh and like. Yknow. Half the shit his party does.

94. Outlook on life?

Again he's??? Oddly an optimist? In the "Things will get better and that is a fucking THREAT" way, but still optimist!

95. What kind of things make them sad/depressed?

Talk about his family :) Or the fact that his boyfriend might want him dead :)

96. What is their greatest weakness?

He's squishy as fuck. He goes down easy.

97. What is their greatest strength?

He's extremely intelligent and great with magic and his sniper!

98. Something that they regret?

Not doing more to stop his brother when he tried to resurrect their sister

99. Biggest accomplishment?

Either convincing an entire town his name is Torren or accidentally convincing some very OP people that he's secretly a dragon.

100. Create your own!

FUCK YOU I SPENT LIKE 2 HOURS ON THIS. NO PROOFREAD. IVE ALREADY DESIGNED CORREN'S AND NETHYL'S HYPOTHETICAL KIDS. ANYWAYS THEY'RE TWIN IRINAGA AND I'VE NAMED THEM AFTER THE DNDADS TWINS: THEIR NAMES ARE LARK AND SPARROW.

[fuckingdeadbutroyal]

Jasonette July- Soulmate AU- Part 2

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 -

“How long has this been going on?”, Damians voice was flat. An outsider would maybe even perceive it as bored, but his brothers heard him. Damian Wayne was horrified. “Five and a half days now, to be precise. We have heard of the earthquake but we didn’t know about the metas. That’s why we’re here, save the citizens and catch the-” “How did we not know of any metas in Paris? Why are we only coming to help them now? Look at this place!”, Nightwing interrupted his father, in Jasons opinion rightfully so. Paris was not what he remembered from the posters and booklets he had seen. The city could have lost WW2 and even then it would probably look better than it currently did. “That’s international matters, we’re not even meant to be here but it got out of control so I asked Red Robin to investigate. Now stop complaining and start working.”, Bruce scolded his adoptives and, leaving no room for further interruption, began giving out orders. Dick, Jason, Stephanie and Damian were on citizen-saving duty, while Tim stayed at the manor and guided them per earpiece. Bruce, Cass, Duke and Barbara were on metawatch™, meant to collect more information on the cause of destruction, aswell as the heroes Tim had mentioned in his report. One final tech-check later the formerly crowded rooftop was deserted and Paris had a new crew of support in form of bat-themed vigilantes.

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

Jason felt...sad. Deeply, desperatly heartbroken. He remembers feeling that way when he first discovered his fathers lack of avenging the death of his second son. But now? Of course, the sight he was currently enduring was horrific. He was sorry it had to come to this, frustrated his hands just weren’t enough to help every Parisian in pain. But that desperation? His inhumane tiredness? The way his whole body just felt numb, as if he were in so much pain his senses just wouldn’t- no couldn’t keep up? He knew it was out of place, his brothers were okay after all. Even Dick, the most emotional one out of his siblings, was much more focused than Jason. He knew it had to do with his soulmate, at least he guessed as much. The thought of them being somewhere in this city, hiding in one of those hyper-secure shelters he had seen while rummaging through the collapsed buildings and pulling out everyone he could find...it was unnerving. Though somehow he knew that that wasn’t the case. 

Upon first taking in the sight of Paris’ ruins Red Hood just knew where he was and what streets he was aiming for. He knew where the shelters were, could guide the civilians towards them and even recognized some of the buidings, even though there was nothing left but dust and dirt. Jason had a gut feeling telling him that all those things weren’t actually his knowledge. It had to be his soulmates. They knew everything he needed to know about the city, they recognized it from above. But one piece of information, which now that Timmy has properly updated them about Paris’ situation should have been absolutely unavoidable, was missing. What do those shelters look like from the inside? 

Why doesn’t his soulmate know?

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

Marinette was on autopilot. It has been four days since her parents death. She hasn’t slept, hasn’t eaten and hasn’t stopped moving. Chat has already collapsed twice, which ended up with her carrying him to one of their recharging-shelters in the water and spending ungodly amounts of time trying to find food and water for him aswell as holding him in place while he slept, hoping to avoid his otherwise certain death by drowning. “What a sad end it would be”, the girl thought to herself, “all that effort, all that pain, and we could just loose it all to a petty accident. Not that there is much left to save...”

She wasn’t going to admit it out loud, but Ladybug, the hero and saviour of Paris, did no longer care about winning. She didn’t think of saving those people who were praying in her name, praying to her. She didn’t believe in god and oh Kwami did she not believe in herself. What she did believe in, though, was revenge. She wanted to kill that dusty bitch, even if it was the last thing she would do. Ladybug didn’t care about the victim. She knew for herself that if she were the one who did this to her beloved City of Love, she could no longer live with herself. She wanted to kill the akuma and even though a voice deep inside her was telling her otherwise, trying to stop her and arguing that this was not what her parents would have wanted, Marinette did not care. She was going to free the petite akuma and then tear it apart with her very own teeth. And guess who’s next? “That’s right, I’m coming for your ass, Shitmoth.”

Her voice woke the boy next to her. She hasn’t even realised how her train of thought has surfaced into the real world until Plagg, who was sleeping on the blondes stomach, started grumbling in despleasure about how his pillow shouldn’t be moving. Adrien sat up, not meeting Ladybugs eyes as he took the cheese she was handing him and giving it to the suddenly awake and alert Kwami who, as always, swallowed it whole. It was kind of nice, reassuring, watching him do something Adrien has formerly perceived as highly annoying. Back then, before “The End of the World”, as he now called it, has fallen from the sky. Or rather dug it’s way out from six feet under, since the main cause of destruction were the earthquakes. Destruction. Thinking of it made Adriens gag-reflexes act up. He hated this akuma. Not only for the obvious reasons. No, Adrien hated how useless he himself felt because of it. Why should he cataclysm something while he’s trying to stop Dirtface from doing so? It was highly contraproductive and Chat could not stand it. It was like watching the person you hate most, fan-girl about something you love. Kind of ruins the experience. Adrien didn’t know if he could use his power the way he did before, ever again. The only upside to it was, that he didn’t have to recharge as often and was therefore capable of protecting his partner whenever she had to hide. 

As long as he didn’t fucking collapse from exhaustion, of course.

“I fainted again, didn’t I?”, he asked, shame crawling into his every pore. He was hoping to avoid that. The first time already came at the price of his identity, though luckily Ladybug has been quick enough to hide him before anyone else could catch a glimpse. Adrien wasn’t aware of it, but once Mari managed to securely position him on one of the upside-down-boats benches, she fell into a hysterical fit of laughter. She cried, she felt as if she were about to choke, as if she were about to finally explode into all those shattered pieces her heart now consisted of. Her laughter, though, showed none of these emotions. An outsider would be afraid to come near her, her parents would not be able to recognize her, she herself would have been disturbed by that sight. If the Joker were there to see it, he would have had to give his crown to her, for her laugh was scarier than any Jokers could ever be. 

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

Marinette just nodded and waited for Chat to suit back up. She didn’t think of his collapses as embarassing. Instead, Ladybug was highly impressed by his skill and endurance. She knew he didn’t have the luxury of someone taking the hit for her, sleeping and eating instead of her. For so long Mari has been trying to convice herself that she realy was, just like Adrien, just like Chat, alone. She wanted to believe that her soulmate was dead, wanted to live and not give a damn about that extra source of pain, which is the only thing she has ever thought of, when it came to feeling any kind of relationship towards her bonded. How could she love what brings her torture? How could she want to love the pain? Now though, with death being all around her, no-one she could turn to and time playing against her...Marinette was relying on them. She would not be able to surive this without her soulmate sleeping instead of her, would have probably fallen to the hands of malnutrition, if it weren’t for them feeding her through that inexplicable bond between their souls. 

Adrien did not have that. He was born without a soulmate, which wasn’t anything unusual. After all, more than half of the worlds population were either born without a soulmate or simply existed during a different century than their significant others. 

Just like Nino, just like Chloe, just like Nathaniel, Kagami and Luka: Adrien isn’t going to stay by Ladybugs side forever. She knew that now. That was okay, though. Because now she was certain of one thing. Her soulmate was alive and, according to her intensifying tiredness as well as that energizing tingling keeping her body up and working, they were on their way to save her.

That carries a tiny problem though.

She had to avoid getting help. She wouldn’t let it happen again.

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

HI! First of: Thank you so much for the amazing feedback, I am so fucking grateful you have no idea (or you do? idk. THANK YOU ILY)

This story has gotten much longer than I had planned but tbh I love it. There’s a part 3 and probably a part 4 coming, Though I’ll post it tomorrow ‘cause I gotta write it and like, live life a bit.

Critique and any kind of feedback is very welcome!

I will most probably continue Jasonette July, this is so much more fun than I expected. So see you tomorrow \o/

Thanks for reading^^

P.S.: There's finally some proper Jasonette on the horizon☄

[deliasbabe]

Dancing Through Our House With The Ghost Of You- Part 2

Billie deals with her own ghosts. Part 3 Coming Soon!

Read Part 1 here.

Words: 3,792

Warnings: Strong Language, Angst, Drunkenness.

“Billie?”

Billie glanced up, preparing for another image of you that would only disappear, but once she locked eyes with you she knew it wasn’t a figment of her imagination. You were dressed in an oversized hoodie Billie had never seen you in before, presumably covering your shorts beneath it. Your hair was shorter and a little lighter, falling in loose waves around your chin. Between Billie’s wine drunk haze and the streetlights glowing behind you, you looked ethereal in every way, her own personal guardian angel.

“What are you doing here?” Billie whispered, confused by your abrupt arrival.

You furrowed your brow, before taking in your ex lover’s obviously inebriated state, “You called me.”

She searched her swirling memory for a moment, trying to recall when exactly she would have called, coming up empty. It must have happened if you were here, standing right in front of her. She didn’t respond, didn’t know what she could possibly say, but you knew that. Instead, you kneeled down in front of her so you were at eye level, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear gently. You always knew exactly what she needed. 

“You’re here.” Billie whispered, almost like she didn’t believe it, like any second you would vanish into thin air and she would be alone once again.

You gave a soft nod, “I am. Now let’s get you moved to the couch, hm?” You had dealt with Billie’s breakdowns before, when her job got too heavy and real for her to handle. You knew her like the back of your hand, but you had never seen her quite like this. You grabbed her hand and tugged her up, depositing her on the couch before heading to the kitchen for some wine. You knew for certain she had already had far too much for a casual evening, but even the simple action of holding the full glass in her hand seemed to calm her, or at least, it used to.

You saw the smoke before you had even entered the kitchen, quickly walking over to the stove and turning it off before depositing the charred remains of the forgotten stir fry in the garbage. Billie was never one for eating more than one proper meal in a day, and you usually had to force her to even eat one, so the chances that she hadn’t eaten were pretty high, and you quickly dialed the pizza place around the corner that you always ordered from. It wasn’t the most nutritious meal, but it was something to help avoid the hangover.

When you returned to the living room with two full wine glasses in hand, Billie had managed to get herself curled up under a blanket, and you were thankful you didn’t see the same emptiness in her eyes that had greeted you upon your arrival. You held out one of the glasses, which she took with shakey hands and a small thank you, before you took up residence on the opposite side of the couch, tucking your knees under you in the way you always did, like this place was still your home and nothing had changed.

Billie glanced at you for a moment, “Since when do you drink red?”

You gave a gentle laugh, “It was all you had. Did you just get back?”

Billie nodded slightly, “You look good.”

“Thank you.” You said politely, knowing Billie was always the charmer. But to you, it didn’t feel like a compliment, it felt like a distraction.

“What have you been up to?” Billie asked, making polite chit chat like you didn’t just see her at her worst. It was the only thing she could think of to do. She didn’t know what exactly she had said to you, but it had to have been pretty bad for you to show up after what she did.

You knew it was just her trying to skirt around the pressing issue, likely due to embarrassment. Still, you feared that emptiness returning once again, so you indulged her, “I went home for the summer, spent time with my parents. I just… I needed to get out of LA. It was good for me.”

Billie nodded, she knew you always hated the city, that it made you feel like you were drowning. You two had talked about moving away together, but with her job, she was always tied to LA, or at least California. She still was having trouble saying anything, because there was so much she wanted to say, but the words were tied down, lodged in the pit of her stomach and sinking. 

“Did you find any particularly scary ghosts while abroad?” You ask, your tone slightly teasing, which only made the woman smile.

“No,” She said with a laugh, “I couldn’t understand half of them.”

You snickered, “Kind of fucked up that even ghosts have a language barrier.”

 And oh, Billie was swooning at your candor. It was one of her favorite things about you, how you always seemed to know just how to break the tension, how to draw her out of even her darkest moments and make her see the light. But nothing about this was light, not with the guilt pressing on her shoulders with every kind word you spoke. You should have been angry, furious with her. Every word should have been biting, calloused, cold, but then again, it was you. She focused on her wine, swirling it for a moment, if only to give her a second to think. You noticed, you always noticed. “You don’t want it?” You asked, cocking your head to the side.

“No, I do.” Billie said, shaking her head, “I just haven’t eaten. My dinner is still on the stove.”

“Your dinner is in the garbage.” You joked, “You may have let it cook for just a tad too long.” You watched the medium bite her lip as a blush creeped up her cheeks, an unusual sight, “I ordered pizza. It should be here soon.” Billie met your gaze, but only briefly before she looked away and nodded, finally taking a sip of the wine. “So what happened, Bill?” You asked softly, pushing just enough.

“I didn’t tell you?” Billie asked quietly, shifting her gaze to stare at her lap.

“You said you were seeing ghosts.” You responded.

Billie pursed her lips, “I was.”

“You don’t have any ghosts.” You stated.

Billie gave a soft sigh, “I do now.”

You chuckled softly, “Did someone die while I was away?”

“I saw you.” Billie said bluntly, tired of whatever dance she was forcing you to partake in. Billie always liked games, but she couldn’t bear to do it with you, not anymore.

Billie glanced up as your face fell solemn, and she hated herself for forcing you to take on more of her pain. This was her fault, all of it. She shouldn’t have called you. You were quiet for a moment, nodding slightly, “You haven’t been back since it happened, have you?” Billie shook her head, embarrassed. “Yea, that’ll do it. It happened to me too, when I went back to my apartment.” You said, trying to let her know she wasn’t alone, “That’s why I left for a while, to give me time to… deal with it, I guess.”

“Have you?” Billie asked, secretly terrified of the answer, of being alone in this torture.

You chuckled lightly, “Well I’m here, so I’ll let you be the judge.”

The answer was very you, but it was also very telling. You always dropped everything to be there for her, regardless of what she had done, and although Billie was thankful for it, it also made her heart ache. She hurt you, and you were still here, still picking up her broken pieces when she was too proud to pick up yours. You were ten times the person she would ever be, and you deserved better than her, but all she could think about was how you were inches away from her, how she could lean over and kiss you and everything would be ok again.But before she could make her move, the doorbell rang, and with it the urge was taken out like the tide. 

Billie took a moment to compose herself as you grabbed the food, wiping at her smudged makeup and smoothing down her hair, smiling when you returned with on very large pizza box in hand. It seemed utterly absurd to order that much food for just two people, but you always had been the planner, and you knew the medium well enough to assume it would be days before she made it to the grocery store. At least this way she had some leftovers to carry her through. 

“Let’s get some food in you.” You teased, handing the woman a greasy slice. She nibbled on it for a moment, not really sure she actually even wanted to eat, as you looked around. “Where is your assistant?” You asked.

“Hm?” Billie responded.

“Your assistant?” You asked casually, “I’m sure you got a new one. You used to have me here from the moment you woke up until you went to bed, even when we weren’t together.”

“That’s because I liked you.” Billie said, trying to hide behind a teasing tone. You weren’t wrong, she did have you there constantly, but that was because she had feelings for you. She made it seem like it had always been that way, but the truth of it was it was just you, her previous assistants she hardly ever called on, she just preferred to handle things herself.

“And you don’t like her?” You teased back, watching your ex avert her gaze and shrug, which told you everything you needed to know. “Ah, got it.” You said with a laugh, trying to diffuse the tension.

“It was a long trip.” Billie said defensively. It was a half assed attempt and she knew it, but god forbid she say she actually missed you.

You held your hands up in mock surrender, “Hey, I don’t really have room to judge anymore. Not hard to fall in love with the boss.”

“You can’t tell me you haven’t been with anyone else. It’s been almost a year.” Billie said, knowing she was only trying to crush her own heart, beat it into submission with the idea that you really had moved on, that she wasn’t as important as she thought she was.

You gave a half-hearted shrug, not wanting to make the woman feel any worse, but Billie knew what it meant, because it was you. You weren’t the type to fall into bed with just anyone. Sure, you weren’t a virgin when you met, but your body count was confined to one hand, two fingers. Billie, and that guy from college that you swore you were going to marry, until you realized he was a dick and you deserved better. You always were her better half, the only one that seemed to quell her endless impulses. She was better because of you, and then she had to blow it all to shit.

“Why didn’t you stop me?” Billie asked as your eyebrows furrowed, “That night, when I made you leave. Why didn’t you stop me?” The question seemed out of the blue, but really it was something she had been agonizing over for months. It wasn’t the first time Billie had acted out and tried to break things off, but it was the first time you didn’t fight back, didn’t force her to sit down and prevent the forest fire erupting inside of her. For as rash as she was, you were the voice of reason, or you had been until that night. That night you just let it burn, let her tear down the house you built brick by brick and swim in the ashes, alone.

“Because I knew I couldn’t.” You said after a moment, taking a note from Billie’s book and staring at your glass of wine as you swirled it around the rim, “You had to figure it out on your own.”

Billie set her jaw, hating that you always seemed to be 10 steps ahead of her, “Figure what out?”

“Why did you call me over here, Billie?” You fired back as you snapped your gaze up, almost like a challenge. You had tried to pull the answer out gently, a subtle game of tug of war, but she was locked up tight, and you were tired of being gentle. Being gentle is what got you into this mess in the first place. 

But Billie was her own special kind of stubborn, and your aggression just made her dig her heels in, “I don’t even remember calling you.”

Still, you weren’t going to give up just yet, “But you did.”

Billie straightened her shoulders and picked up her wine, “But I did.”

You let out a barely audible grunt, standing from the couch and collecting the still full pizza box and your wine, heading to the kitchen. You didn’t know why you answered her call, but you did, and now you were here, playing some fucked up game of poker. You both knew why she called, but she wouldn’t say it, and you were about five seconds from exploding. 

“What are you doing?” Billie asked in a sarcastic tone, trying to suppress the overwhelming fear that was carving its way into her bones. She hated this, hated knowing you had the upper hand, that you could say and do whatever you wanted and she would buckle instantly. She hated that her heart raced every time you left the room, that she felt every single millimeter of distance between you, hated that the only thing she wanted was to close that gap and be in your arms. It was easy to say she hated you. Hate was easier to deal with, hate lived inside your soul and no one else’s. Hate didn’t need constant validation or reassurances. Hate was solitary, stable, it didn’t fade with time, not like love did.

“Cleaning up. I’m going to get you into bed and then I’m going to go.” You said flatly, forcing yourself to strip every ounce of emotion from your tone. You couldn’t force her to talk to you, but you could make the decision to leave before she kicked you out again.

“Go?” Billie asked, cursing herself for the tears she felt welling up and the rise in her pitch.

“Yea, back to…” You trailed off before shaking your head, “I have to go.”

Billie cleared her throat, trying to keep herself in check, “You could just stay here.” She glanced back at you and you shook your head, and Billie hated how her chest got tight at the very idea of you being gone, of her being alone in this house once again, “You’ve been drinking.”

“I didn’t drive.” You said, crossing your arms and fixating on a scuff on the floor.

“Y/n. Stay, please…” Billie said weakly, blinking rapidly as if that would make the impending waterworks come to a halt.

“That isn’t a good idea….” You said, pausing for a moment and shaking your head before heading back into the kitchen to finish up. If you stayed, it would only prolong whatever this was. You hated hurting her, but you also hated how she made you feel. She made you feel crazy, and there was nothing you hated more than that.

Billie knew she was royally fucking this up, as she always did. It shouldn’t have been hard, just three words, I love you, and everything would be fixed. What was she so afraid of? That she would lose you? She already lost you, and she would again if she didn’t just say the damn words.

Sucking in a deep breath, she untangled herself from the blankets and slowly walked towards the kitchen, trying to mentally prepare herself. “You know… when I was in Europe, there was this one ghost I met.” She said, waiting for you to show some kind of response before she continued. It took a moment, but you finished washing the pan you were working on and laid your palms flat on the edge of the sink, turning your head towards her, “He had been in the war, shipped out the day he turned eighteen. He didn’t want to go, but he didn’t have a choice. He had a girlfriend, wanted to marry her, but he never told her he loved her. He regretted it, obviously, but he didn’t think he was going to come back, didn’t want her to have to deal with that kind of loss. He didn’t come back, he died in the trenches, but he wished he would have told her, even once. I did some research, found her. She was 85, got married and had six kids, a bus load of grandchildren. I explained everything to her, told her who I was. You know what she said to me when I told her?”

“What?” You asked with a gravelly voice, and Billie waited a moment until you looked up at her, “What, Bill?”

“She said she already knew. She always knew, even though he could never say it. He was the love of her life, of course she knew. He had spent years, trapped by this guilt, and she knew the entire time.” Billie said softly, shaking her head, “All those years… wasted, wandering around, all for nothing.”

“That’s not why he was trapped.” You blurted, clenching your jaw as you wiped your hands on the kitchen towel, “He wasn’t trapped because he thought she didn’t know, he was trapped because she knew and he still didn’t have the guts to say it, because then it was real. Not saying it… it doesn’t make it easier, it just makes you a coward, lets you hide in plain sight. She knew, but there was always an uncertainty about it.” You felt the tears beginning to pile up behind your eyelids, tried to swallow down the thickness in your voice before you cleared your throat, “That’s why he was trapped. That’s what kept him here.”

Billie dropped her head, giving a solemn nod. You were right, you always were right. She was a coward, terrified to give up even an ounce of control. She always was so detached, aloof, at least before you. Now, things were different, and she was struggling to catch up.

When you were the one to break the silence, Billie was surprised, shooting her head up. “I’m glad you were able to help her, though. Make it concrete or whatever. Even if it did take 60 years, it’s better than nothing.” You said, walking towards the center of the room and shuffling your feet, like you were only seconds from gathering your things and walking out the door. 

Your mask was quickly slipping, and now Billie knew for certain that you were still in pain, not that she couldn’t assume it already. You were always just so damn good about hiding your feelings, about putting everyone else above yourself, like you didn’t matter. She could see your hurt plain as day now, and she wanted nothing more than to kiss it away. She could feel the words bubbling up in her stomach, but they would lodge in her throat, making it hard to even breathe. She had to kiss you, had to do it right then and there, because it was the only way she knew how to convey every single thing she was feeling for you. She told you she loved you with every kiss, every touch. It was easy to love you that way, but the words were harder, more complicated and weighted.

She moved towards you without even thinking, and you stepped back, playing that game over and over until you were pressed up against the counter with nowhere to run. “Billie…” You whispered, pressing your hands on her shoulders to keep her just out of range.

“Just let me show you.” Billie pleaded, your faces only inches apart. If you would just release your grip, even just a hair, she would be able to do it.

“We can’t.” You stated, holding firm.

“Why not?” Billie practically whined.

“Because I won’t wait 60 years.” You shot back.

“Do you still love me?” Billie asked.

“You know I do.” You said with a sigh, relieved when Billie finally stopped pushing against you, but she still was close, too close. Close enough that you were teetering on the edge of losing all willpower and burrowing into her arms.

“Y/n, I was scared out of my mind. The accident….” Billie fumbled, trying to put a million complicated feelings into one simple sentence.

You nodded slightly, “I know.”

“I couldn’t bear the thought of losing you. I can’t lose you.” Billie said firmly.

“I told you I loved you and you kicked me out.” You stated, the bitterness creeping its way into your tone.

Billie softened, “I know, and I’m sorry, I am. Sweetheart, you know I care about you.”

You swallowed thickly, “And I care about you, you know I do.”

“Then stay.” Billie said, drawing out every letter.

You shook your head, “It’s not that simple.”

Billie was emphatic now, practically wailing, “It is, I love you and you love me.” She didn’t even realize she was saying it, the words slipping out so effortlessly the second she wasn’t thinking about it. But something changed in the expression on your face, and she had to ask, “What?”

“Say it again.” You insisted.

“What? That I love you and you love me?” Billie asked, the words taking a moment to register, a brief moment of panic rushing through her irises. Her shoulders relaxed, like a weight had been lifted, and she looked back at you. “I love you.” She said, like she was realizing it for the first time, like she hadn’t spent months staring at the wall and thinking it over and over again.

You let out an amused, breathy laugh, “Wasn’t so scary, was it?”

“Terrifying, actually.” Billie said, eyes wide like she was still considering taking it back.

“Only when you thought about it.” You teased, a genuine smile finally gracing your lips.

The medium started fidgeting, like a kid anxiously awaiting a treat, “Can I kiss you now?” She needed reassurance, needed something familiar to remind herself she wasn’t alone in this, that the words didn’t just simply vanish into thin air, that all her anxiety and suffering wasn’t for nothing. Your grin grew wider, and she instinctually stepped forward, leaning into you, but at the last moment you stepped back.

“No, but you can take me upstairs.” 

[angrylizardjacket]

Run to Paradise {Nikki Sixx} Part 32

32. if we go down then we go down together

Summary: lola meets nikki's mom, gets a promotion, and tommy plays nurse, oh my!

Warnings: heroin use, mild gun violence, uhhh, lime i guess? like sensuality.

ragtag bunch of misfits: @starlalove @toofasttofallinlove @xrosegoldwolfx @obsessivesky @lovehelpmewrite @marvelismylifffe @lilytalebi @glitterdreamsz @freddiessmallnipples @crazysaladchopshop @dramatique-moi @calspixie @aryssav @catsoo12 @sweetshutter @silvertonguedserpent @shamelessobsessions @lavenderbones22 @keepcalm-and-beyou @scarecrowmax @nicholeh7 @unknownoblivion @sighsophiia @fruitinthebottom @misscharlottelee @local-troubled-writer  @redlipscrystalskies14 @kaitieskidmore1 @the-specific-oceans

{ MASTERLIST }

Nikki throws himself into his heroin addiction like his life depends on it, if only to be able to make it through a conversation with Tommy without blurting out that marrying Heather is a huge mistake.

"It's his mistake to make," Lola had to remind him, her touch gentle against his heated skin. Nikki, unaccustomed to not getting his way, and with a newfound sense of jealousy, is not handling it well. He alternates hot and cold whenever he interacts with the drummer, icing him out one minute, acting like they're closer than ever the next, and Tommy, ever the lost little puppy, is drowning in confusion.

"Is he on something new? Is it the zombie dust?" Tommy asks, slinging his arm around Lola as he murmurs to her conspiratorially. Lola's skin burns at the contact, but she refuses to let it show. He was hanging around her, he was touching her again, she'd take anything she could get.

"He's going through some stuff," she said with a tight smile, and Tommy makes a noise like he understands, "hey, if he - or you - need anything..." Tommy trailed off, but Lola understood, and she gives him a gentle thanks, and steps out from beside him. Things between them have been better, thankfully, but right now Lola's got bigger things to worry about.

The last thing Nikki needs in the middle of his sexuality crisis and having to watch one of the people he loved marrying someone else, was Doc's misguided attempts at being a good Samaritan. Doc had learned the hard way that to surprise Nikki or Lola, he had to keep the secret from both of them.

When Doc knocks on Nikki and Lola's door a few days before the end of the tour, just a week before Christmas, it's after a hard night of partying; the phone's ringing, Lola's already itching for a hit by the time she jolts awake to Doc's shouting.

"Answer the door, Sixx," Doc calls through the door, and Lola groans as Nikki swears beside her.

"It's our morning off," Lola whines, turning and burying her face into her pillow.

"When did we get food?" Nikki asks blearily, pushing himself up off of the mattress and the half-eaten burrito he had been lying on.

"Vince's suggestion," Lola mumbled, barely coherent, into her pillow.

"Fuck you both; Lola, I know you're in there," Doc continues banging on the door, but Nikki stands, delightfully pantsless, and makes his way to the door, grabbing a half-finished drink from the table on his way.

"Alright, asshole, calm down," Nikki snaps back as he opens the door to an already fully dressed Doc waiting for him. There's a long pause, followed by the faintest exasperated groan from Doc.

"Clean yourself up, you've got a visitor," his gaze flicks to Lola, stark naked, laying starfish on the bed with her pillow around her head to block out his voice, "I think you'll want to bring her too."

Nikki closes the door on his face, but complies.

"It's probably a reporter," Nikki doesn't even bother to shower before he's pulling on a pair of leather pants. Lola shakes her head beneath the pillow, enough of a movement that Nikki can interpret.

"Doc would have told me if it was," she tells him, before heaving a sigh and herself out of bed. They get dressed in mutual annoyed silence, broken only by Doc occasionally telling them to hurry up. Lola's wearing one of Nikki's singlets tucked into a miniskirt, while Nikki's wearing a polka dot shirt that neither of them will admit to owning, though they both look very good in.

Finally, as they open the door, Doc looks them both over, like a parent checking his children look presentable enough for their first day of school.

"Wash your faces," he instructs.

"Eat my ass," Lola snaps, right at the same time as Nikki tells him to suck his dick. Doc looks pained.

"Him I understand, but you? You've been doing so well," Doc sighed, his voice full of gentle disappointment, but Lola just crossed her arms; Doc's gaze flicks for a moment to her chest before her lets out a noise of annoyance, "and wear a damn bra; can this please be the one hotel lobby that doesn't see your nipples?" Nikki snorted a laugh at that.

"It's my morning off, you jag," Lola tells him, cocking her hip.

"Wash the puke off your face," Doc ordered the both of them, and reluctantly, they both stepped back, once more taking the satisfaction of slamming the door in his face. On the bright side, however, as Lola pulled on a leather jacket in favour of a bra, she hears Nikki going through his luggage. Once she turns to him, she sees him silently pull a needle and baggie from his luggage, waving them enticingly.

"Fine!" Lola shouts at the door, feigning anger, but her expression reads delight as Nikki searches his pockets for a lighter. They head to the bathroom, turning on the sink to mask the noise as they liquefy their heroin, and Lola sits up on the bathroom counter. She slides her skirt up until it's up around her hips, and Nikki leans into her, crowds her against the wall with his hand warm on her thigh, kissing her roughly. Lola sighs gently into his mouth, and when he breaks away to concentrate on injecting her, she lets her head fall back against the wall as the needle pierces her thigh, and the drugs flood her system.

When she opens her eyes, she sees Nikki watching her with a intense gaze, but gentle amusement, adoring how relaxed and trusting she was in these moments. He quickly refills the needle, and holds it out to her, offering his other arm. He braces against her thigh with his other hand as she injects him, and after capping the needle, the kiss they share is surprisingly tender.

With little more preamble, mostly due to Doc yelling that this face washing was taking too long, they did, in fact, was their faces and leave, looking as respectable as they could manage, despite Nikki bringing a bottle of JD with him. Both still mostly annoyed with Doc for ruining their sleep in, both Nikki and Lola are silent on the elevator ride down. As the doors open, however, Doc explains.

"Your mother called, Nikki; she asked to come to a show," he explained, and every muscle in Nikki's body seemed to tense at once. Like an icy wind had blown in, both he and Lola could feel the whole world shift to something wrong, "so I thought, with it being the holidays and all -" Doc seems so pleased, so self satisfied, as if he didn't have Nikki's personal devil smiling at the three of them like she's happy to see them.

Deana Richards stands and smiles and opens her arms for a hug from Nikki, approaching him like she has any right to, while he's frozen to the spot, looking more ill than usual.

"Merry Christmas, Frank," she tells him, and even Lola recoils at that, lip curled in a silent sneer at the woman.

"That's not my name," Nikki tells his mother as she hugs him, but he doesn't push her away, his grip white-knuckled on the neck of the bottle he'd brought. Lola's hands are in fists by her side, like she's aching for a fight, but this isn't her battle.

"My baby," Deana murmurs into Nikki's hair, holding him close. Nikki's heart aches with old, still unhealed wounds, as he leans into her embrace, just a little. "That song," his mother starts, stepping back a little, eyes wide and curious and gentle, "the one about looks that kill," at the mention of the song, Nikki's eyes flick to Lola, who's watching with a thinly veiled disgust, "it's about me, isn't it, Frankie?" But his mother draws his attention back, and Nikki feels the deeply buried rage and hurt simmering suddenly just beneath his skin.

He steps back, and her expression falls, from warm to uncertain, and she calls him Frankie again in confusion. In a split second, everything about Nikki changes, contorts with rage.

"That's not my fucking name!" He hollers, and throws the bottle to the ground, shattering it instantly before he storms off, and Lola wants to chase him, but Doc's after him and Deana says her name.

"That's what they call you, right? Lola?" She asks, and it takes everything in Lola's being not to sock the woman in the face, "his girlfriend?"

"I'm his partner," Lola spits icily, before turning sharply on her heel and stalking towards the sounds of Nikki's anger.

"You are not my fucking father, and you are not my fucking friend," he's turned on Doc, anger and betrayal in his eyes, in his voice, in his heart, "you're just another leech with your hands in my pockets who wouldn't be standing there right now unless you were getting something out of it, so just fuck off, Doc," Nikki snapped, bitter and hurting. When Lola reaches for him, her hand finding his, he flinches away for a moment before he sees it's her, and something in him relaxes, just a fraction. After a beat, he grabs Lola's hand and leads her to the elevators, all but yelling over his shoulder.

"Lo, you're our manager now; Doc, you're fucking fired."

It's not as simple as that; there's more signatures required than days in the year, and the rest of the band are hesitant. Mick, especially, trusted Doc to know what he was doing, and takes more than a little convincing; it's only with Lola promising that she's turned over a new leaf, and that she wants what's best for them, that he finally stops his quiet campaigning to rehire Doc.

Once the tour ends, she visits Doc, but he seems surprisingly nonchalant about it.

"I think if anyone can get them all in line, it's you," but she can sense the caveat he's working up to, "but that's only because you, more than anyone else, know who they really are." He hands her a hefty stack of folders, "this contains every contact I had for them, every schedule, every note I've ever taken for or about those assholes, as well as lists of venues they're banned from, parental watch groups that hate them, publicists and photographers who refuse to work with them, and hotels they have owed money in the past but somehow still let them stay there."

After a moment of strained silence, Doc steps back, leaning against his desk with his arms crossed, giving her an appraising look.

"If you and your heroin addled, self sabotaging boyfriend make it through the next year alive, I'd wager you'd be unstoppable," he says, with a blunt honesty, and Lola frowns, but he barrels on, "I'll call Tom Zutaut and tell him I've handed over all the documents; he'll call and set up a meeting with you in the next few days."

"I didn't think I'd be sad to see you go," Lola tells him, but she shrugs after a moment of consideration, "and I'm not." But it's with a well worn fondness for the end of their routine.

"Working with you was one of the most painful experiences of my life, Lola," Doc tells her honestly, and Lola can't help but grin at that. After a moment, however, Doc's voice softens, "good luck, Miss Gone; I'll see you in hell," which would have made her laugh if it wasn't so heartfelt and sincere.

"See you in hell," she tells him with a warm smile, and leaves, closing the door on their bittersweet goodbye.

Lola all but drowns in paperwork, even with the tour at an end, she's trying to follow Doc's scheduled for their next album, working around Tommy's upcoming marriage. The label wants them back in the studio within six weeks of the tour ending, and Lola's fighting to keep up. She turns one of the spare rooms into an actual office, gets herself a business phone line, and starts getting tabloids delivered so she can keep a track on the band's public image through outside perspectives. She's getting calls from across the world for people wanting to interview the band, even her, and learns the hard way that Doc had been the one dealing with the band's fanmail. So now she's got a P.O box, and has to collect the mail daily, both fan and business inquiries, until she has to get a second P.O box, and make a whole new set of calls informing anyone wanting to work with the band, where to send their mail.

A month has passed before she realises, a month spent in a haze of work and heroin; Nikki's been spiraling in her peripheries, but she can't help him, he won't let her help him. He's icing her out, and so while Nikki's been locking himself in his cupboard, paranoid at all hours of the day and night, Lola's been feeling a little like Atlas, the weight of her world on her shoulders, the band's future.

The incident with Nikki's mom had broken something inside of him, something he didn't even want to consider fixing for reasons unknown to Lola. Couple that with Lola's long hours alone in her office, and Tommy being preoccupied with Heather, Nikki was on a knife edge.

"I'm losing you both!" He shouted at her through the cupboard door, paranoid, shaking, when Lola had just been trying to comfort him.

"Babe, you're not losing me, and you're not really losing -"

"Don't fucking lie to me, Lola!" Nikki had hollered, before growing worryingly quiet, "you're working with them." He hissed.

"Who?" Lola sighed, and Nikki practically snarled at her.

"They bugged the house, but I was too quiet so they want you to rile me up!"

"Nikki -"

"Get out!" Nikki shouted, banging on the closet door, effectively scaring Lola, making her jump, "get the fuck out!"

Nikki's been festering in his heroin-induced paranoia, trying to lock Lola out, interrogating her when she gets back about where she's been. She's been sleeping on the sofa more often than not, alone, while Nikki lays mostly catatonic in the bedroom closet. As Nikki relies more on the drug, Lola finds she's using it less, afraid of what Nikki's become, afraid she might become that herself.

It comes to a head the day Nikki fires at her through the front door after she gets back from the post office, telling her to get off his property, that she was a spy for the government, or Doc, or his mother.

"I've been in your office! You have my face in there a thousand times over! It's obsessive; you're obsessed!" He snarls, and Lola rests her forehead on the door.

"I'm your manager, I'm compiling articles on the band, baby, please," she tries, but it's clearly not the right answer. The bullet grazes her arm.

She doesn't know where to go. Reasonably, she should go to the police, or to hospital, or to Mick to have some kind of sense talked into her. But her nerves are shot raw, and there's only one person she trusts with her emotional state like this, the only person other than the man who'd fired at her.

"Nikki's locked me out," Lola's looked almost guilty standing in Tommy's doorway, with tear-stained cheeks and a trembling lip. There's a stack of letters in her hand, and her arm's bleeding.

"Holy shit, are you okay?" Is Tommy's first question, but Lola still won't look at him.

"He's acting paranoid," she swallowed hard, "threatened to shoot me if I opened the front door," Lola's voice is barely a whisper, "he did shoot me, a little," she admits, turning her arm so he can see where the bullet had grazed her, "he's scaring the shit out of me, I didn't know where else to go." It's like it's hard for her to admit, and there's an unfamiliar sincerity about her vulnerability. This isn't a ploy, she isn't trying to manipulate him, that much he can tell.

"He could have killed you, Lols," without thinking, he's inviting her in, stepping aside, his hand on her shoulder, warm and familiar.

"I know," her voice is weak, and he leads her through to the bathroom. She sits up on the bathroom counter as he goes to find Heather's medical kit. For a moment, with the water running, and him tending to her wounds, so gentle and no nonsense, Lola's hit with a wave of deja vu, of nostalgia for a time long past, and in an instant, her expression crumples as she can't even hold back her tears.

Tommy panics, still trying to apply cream and bandages to her upper arm, while Lola sobs beside him.

"How did we all get so fucked?" She demanded, "how did we go from being those kids in that shithole apartment, to this?" But he doesn't have an answer for her, just keeps tending to her, "how did I ever let myself hurt you?" She hears herself saying, and Tommy hands still where he's wrapping a bandage around her arm.

"We've all made mistakes, Lols," his voice is gentle, and he carefully makes sure the bandage won't come loose. As soon as her arm's free, Lola crumples, hunched over, her head in her hands.

"I'm so sorry I'm here, Tommy," and she means it when she apologises, "I know Heather doesn't like me, I just..." there's something that warms his heart, how she still trusts him so completely, even after everything.

"Heather's filming in New York for a few days," he tells her gently, wrapping his arms around her, "and you're always welcome here." They stay like that for a long while, together, Lola weeping and Tommy gently rubbing her back.

"I can't believe he shot at you," there's an anger in his voice that Lola hadn't been anticipating, and his grip tightened for a just a moment. But then, as soon as she'd heard it, it had passed, and Tommy stepped back, his grip gentle as he took her hands, "come on, Lols." Pulling her to her feet, he lead her to the living room, to the big, plush sofa there.

He bundled Lola up in blankets, with as many pillows as he could find, trying to make her comfortable as she still sniffled.

"Heather's got a whole bunch of girly movies," he explained, kneeling by the VCR cabinet, "we could watch -"

"Do you have Pinocchio?" Lola asks, voice small and watery, to which Tommy gives pause.

"Pinocchio?" He asks tentatively. Lola nods. Expression apologetic, he shakes his head. "I don't think anyone I know has it."

"I do," Lola says quietly, as if almost to herself, "bought it for myself for Christmas a few years ago; they only sold it for about a month and a half." She looked up, as if remembering Tommy was still there, "what's your favourite? I'm happy to watch that."

"I never took you for a Pinocchio fan," Tommy muses with a half smile, glad, more than anything else, that she'd stopped crying.

"It was dad's favourite; we'd go and see it every time it released in theaters."

"Dude that's adorable," Tommy told her with an affectionate sincerity.

"I know," Lola said with a faint, pleased smile, before brushing it off, "I don't care what we watch; you pick."

When she asks why he's being so nice, so accommodating, Tommy admits to missing her, to missing his best friend, though that's said with a moment of discomfort. He misses Nikki too, but now's not the time to talk about him. Instead, he asks what the letters were that she'd brought, and Lola's more than happy to tell him about how much fanmail the band gets.

They read through the letters and postcards, both adoring how earnest a lot of the words were. Lola had planned the sit the boys down to sort through and respond to any that caught their eye, and send generic letters back to those that didn't, but she and Tommy work through the few she'd brought that day without any fuss. The fans get to know that one of Lola's favourite movies is Pinocchio, while one of Tommy's is the sound of music, and Lola finds herself enjoying the work more than she had in the past month.

They get Chinese for dinner, and Tommy lets Lola eat most of the spring rolls, and they drink beer and watch TV and it almost feels like old times. They talk together, laugh together, and as the night wears on, Lola finds a familiar comfort in how sleepy she gets with her head on Tommy's shoulder.

A yawn escapes her, and Tommy moves automatically, moving her so she could lay her head in his lap, his fingers carding through her hair.

"Can I ask you something?" Tommy asks, only half paying attention to the ads.

"Of course," Lola says around another yawn, shifting to make herself more comfortable.

"You were just... just so okay with like, dating me and Nikki and Vince," he mused quietly, and Lola's not sure what to say to that, "and we were okay with it, but like, it could have been weird, but it wasn't."

"I know, I was there," Lola tells him with flat amusement, and Tommy laughs, giving a gentle, absentminded tug on her hair, to which Lola has to stifle a quiet groan.

"How did you know it was okay? To love all of us?" He asked, and Lola swallows, trying to find the right words.

"I didn't," she admitted, "I was just very, very lucky."

"Didn't what? Know if it was okay?"

"Know if it would work out," Lola clarifies, shifts a little, and Tommy's hand rests still in her hair, "but it did."

"And you just knew you loved us all?"

"I knew I wanted to be with you all, be friends, be fuck buddies, be, you know, more; the love came later." Lola turns now, from her side to lay on her back, to look up at Tommy with wide, curious eyes. He was looking back down at her like he hadn't in a long time, and his hand cups her jaw.

"Is it easy to love more than one person?"

"As easy as breathing, if you really do love them," Lola tells him, leaning into his touch.

"Can I ask you another question?" His voice is quiet, Lola nods once. "Did you really love me as much as you love Nikki?" Lola's breath catches in her throat, and suddenly her mouth feels dry; he's running his thumb so softly along her cheek bone, his other hand resting on her hair.

"You don't want me to answer that," Lola says, weakly, and something about Tommy's expression darkens as he jumps to conclusions.

"Because it's no, isn't it?"

"Because we're both weak, you know this, drummer boy, and you're about to get married, and- and-" but the dam breaks and there's tears in her eyes but she can't look away from him, "of course, Tommy, of course I love you as much as I love Nikki, but it doesn't matter now -"

He kisses her quiet, leaning in until she props herself up and meets him half way, kissing him hard. They fit together like they were designed to be in each other's arms, and Lola hates herself for what she's doing, how weak she's being, but to know that he still loves her, even a little, enough to still want her, she'll take it.

His touches make her feel like porcelain, like he thinks she's moments away from shattering, and perhaps her mind is, but her body is a different story. But she finds she doesn't mind, likes how tender he is and how gentle she wants to be in return, wants to tell him she still loves him with her fingertips on his skin when the words won't come out.

They make love like Lola hasn't in a very long time, precious and intimate, yet fully aware of how wrong this situation was. There's a mutual sense of regret shared in the shower, and Lola sits on the bathroom counter in the nude, not meeting Tommy's gaze as he redresses her wound.

"Did you come here for this?" He asks, voice a little guarded, and Lola swallows hard, shaking her head.

"No," she tells him honestly, "I just needed to be with the person who makes me feel the safest."

She stays the night in his bed, wrapped up in his arms, his warmth, his scent, and it feels like home. He offers to let her stay longer, but Lola rejects his offer, tells him she needs to head home and try and see if she can help Nikki.

"He shot you," Tommy frowned.

"He's going through a state of drug-induced psychosis, he needs help," she tells him gently, and Tommy nods, but then reconsiders.

"How do you know that?"

"Family history of psychosis; I researched a shitton about it after Doc pulled up all that info on my family," Lola explained. As she goes to leave, Tommy catches her good arm, and pulls her in for a hug, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

"Be safe, call me if you need anything," he tells her, and Lola steps away, sad smile on her lips.

"You know, we really need to learn to let go of each other;" Lola's smile doesn't reach her eyes, "you should be happy with Heather."

"So you're allowed to love more than one person, but I'm not?" The heartbreak reads on Tommy's face clear as day, and Lola can't look at him.

"It's different," Lola's voice is gentle as she finally gets to the door, "it would be different if Heather liked me."

"Would it?"

"If you wanted it to be."

Lola gets home to Nikki almost crash tackling her in an attempt to give her a bear hug, as he was shaking, muttering about how he'd thought he'd lost her, that she'd been taken. Lola kisses him gently and hides his gun, and when he offers her heroin, she takes it, if only to forget the feeling of Tommy's lips on her skin, and the sadness in his eyes when she'd left.

Going to his wedding wouldn't be fair on either of them, she needs to let him have his happy ending without her.