#slash shrug. That’s all eye can think of to tag

[ocglaze]

Welcome…. To disco hell

[steveseddie]

home run

steddie | rating: m | wc: 3,6k | no warnings | tags: post-season 4, love confessions, first kiss, first time, dry humping, coming in pants, car sex, or technically van sex

for week two of @softsteddieseptember “confessing your feelings” and “road trips” and week two of @steddiesmuttyseptember “backseat” and “clothes on”

read on ao3 here

Steve’s fingers tighten around the grab handle as Eddie’s van skids dangerously on the wet road. “I really think we should stop, Eddie,” Steve says, finally voicing the thought he’s been having since they got caught in the rain.

Eddie leans forward on the driver’s seat, struggling to see the road through the sheets of water slashing at the windshield, the wipers failing to keep up. 

At first, Steve thinks he didn’t hear him over the heavy pitter-pattering but then he waves dismissively at him. Steve flinches when he lets go of the wheel and the van swerves.  

“No way, Stevie, if we stop we won’t make it in time for the game!”

“If we don’t stop you’ll drive us off the road,” Steve says in a bitchy tone. “And then we won’t make it to the game either because we’ll be dead.”

Eddie groans, using a rag to wipe the fogged-up windshield. “But-”

“Pull over, Munson.”

With a defeated sigh, Eddie hits the warning lights and stirs the van to the side of the road. “As Your Majesty commands,” he says, matching Steve’s bitchy tone. 

“Hey, don’t get pissy on me,” Steve protests when Eddie kills the engine. “It’s not my fault the sky opened up on us!”

Eddie slumps into the driver’s seat, air puffing out and making his bangs flutter. “No, it’s mine.”

Steve snorts. “What? You suddenly control the weather or something?”

“No, but I made us stop for lunch and waste time and got us trapped in this fucking downpour!” Eddie crosses his arm over his chest, pouting. If Steve didn’t think Eddie would throw him out of the van for it he would lean over and pinch his cheek and call him adorable. 

“We had to stop for gas anyway,” he says instead, shrugging. 

“Yeah, but we could’ve had lunch in the van!” Eddie throws his arms up, almost hitting Steve in the face. “It’s called a road trip for fuck’s sake. And now we won’t make it to the game, so it was all for nothing!”

Not for nothing, Steve thinks. They spent the last couple of hours bickering over who got to pick the music and then singing along horribly to whatever they picked to annoy the other one further, which is one of Steve’s favorite parts about driving around with Eddie. That and watching him while he drives, less worried about being caught staring at him. Not to mention the milkshakes they had at the diner where they stopped for lunch were the best Steve’s ever had. Even if they miss the game, which was the whole reason for this trip, Steve would be okay with it. 

But Eddie sounds genuinely upset about it so Steve turns to face him and puts his hand over his knee. “I bet we can catch the rerun at our hotel in Chicago.”

Eddie huffs. “That’s lame, Steve.” His eyebrows knit into a frown. “You were supposed to be there and watch it live, maybe get hit by a ball or something.”

“Eds, why are you so butthurt over this?” Steve can’t help but ask. Missing a basketball game—even a big one that they drove all the way to Chicago for—shouldn’t be getting under Eddie’s skin like this. “You don’t even care about basketball.”

“No, but you do,” Eddie says with a sigh. “And you- you’re always doing things for the kids and for Buckley and for me so I just wanted to do something for you. Wanted us to do something you want for once. That’s why I got the tickets.” 

It’s Steve’s turn to frown. “Wait, I thought Wayne got the tickets from someone at work.”

Eddie hangs a hand from his neck, watching the rain fall through the window, not meeting Steve’s eyes. “Er, no, I asked him to get them for me like a month ago when he drove to Chicago for a job,” he explains shyly. “’Cause, you know, you need a credit card to get them on the phone and well, obviously I don’t have one and neither does Wayne, so-”

“Why?”

Eddie blinks at him. “Because we’re poor?” 

“No, Eds, why- why did you lie about the tickets?” 

“’Cause I knew you’d get all—” he gestures wildly at Steve, “—you about it and offer to pay for them or something and that wasn’t the point. The point was me doing this for you, y’know? Driving four hours just to sit and watch a game that I don’t give a fuck about because you give a fuck about it and I give a fuck about you. Many fucks, in fact.” He lets out a shaky laugh in the middle of his rambling. “Fuck, Steve, I actually love-”

And then Eddie snaps his jaw shut so hard that Steve is surprised he doesn’t bite his tongue off. 

One minute he’s looking at Steve like a startled deer, big cow eyes wide and spooked, and the next he’s flinging the door open and stepping out into the rain before Steve can do anything to stop him 

He blinks at the empty driver’s seat. “What the fuck?” 

He watches through the windshield as Eddie paces anxiously in front of the van, muttering to himself as the rain hammers down on him, soaking his hair and clothes. With a sigh, Steve grabs his jacket from the backseat, zipping it up before following Eddie out of the car.  

“Eddie! What the hell are you doing?” 

“I’m drowning myself,” Eddie says, running a frantic hand through his rapidly soaking hair and talking just loud enough for Steve to hear him over the rain. 

“Why?”

Eddie whirls around to face Steve. His bangs stick to his forehead because of the rain and Steve wants to reach over and brush them back. “C’mon, Stevie,” he says, shaking his head. His expression is open, vulnerable, terrified. “You’re smart enough to know that was a love confession. And a shitty one at that.”

Steve blinks, feeling droplets of water fall from his eyelashes. His heart hammers in his chest. “You- you love me?” 

A laugh escapes Eddie’s lips—a mix of amusement and incredulity. “Sweetheart,” he says, his lips curling into a sad smile. “I’m so in love with you that I was down to drive us through a torrential storm to watch dudes throw balls into laundry baskets with you.”

Despite the rain soaking Steve’s clothes by the second, he feels warmth spreading through him at Eddie’s words. “Eddie-”

“I don’t expect anything, Stevie,” Eddie interjects. “You don’t even have to let me down gently or apologize-”

Steve tries again, taking a step forward, but Eddie instinctively takes a step back. “Eddie, I’m not-” 

“I know-”

Steve growls, exasperated. “No, you don’t know,” he snaps when Eddie keeps interrupting him. “God, you’re infuriating sometimes.”

Eddie laughs but it’s a little shaky. “Big word, Stevie. Twenty points for you.”

Steve shakes his head. He closes the distance between them in two long strides, trapping Eddie against the hood of the van. Eddie looks spooked at the proximity so before he can run away Steve cups his cheeks, keeping him in place. 

Eddie’s eyes go wide. “Uh, Steve?” 

“I need you to shut up, Eddie,” Steve says, brushing his thumbs over Eddie’s cheekbones. His lips part, undoubtedly to make another remark but Steve beats him to it. “‘Cause I’m trying to tell you I’m also in love with you.”

Eddie’s mouth snaps shut immediately.

“There you go,” Steve says with a chuckle. His stomach flip-flops in anticipation. “Eddie, you know I love basketball-”

The words make Eddie frown. “This isn’t the love confession I imagined-”

“Christ. Shhh!” Steve presses his finger against Eddie’s lips with an amused chuckle. Eddie yelps but otherwise stays quiet. 

“I said I love basketball,” Steve starts again, “but I’m happy to watch it just on TV, y’know? The reason why I agreed to a four-hour drive for a game was you. I wanted to go on a trip with you. We hang out all the time and it’s never enough. I’m fucking- obsessed with you! Christ, I love you!”

His finger leaves Eddie’s lips, telling him it’s okay to talk, but Eddie just blinks at him, and for a moment, all they can hear is the rain falling around them. 

Finally, Eddie clears his throat. “And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how you do a love confession,” he says in an awed voice.

“Do I get another twenty points?” Steve asks with a chuckle.

Eddie giggles. Steve has to fight the urge to pinch his cheek again. Adorable. “You get all the fucking points, sweetheart, that was romantic as fuck.”

His thumb brushes over Eddie’s cheeks, warm and pink despite the cold. “Do you know what’s more romantic than a love confession in the rain?” He asks. Eddie shakes his head, water dripping from his bangs. “A kiss in the rain.”

Eddie’s eyes widening in realization are the last thing Steve sees before he surges forward, all but mashing their lips together. 

There’s barely half a second of Eddie’s frozen shock before there are hands in Steve’s hair and lips moving slowly and tenderly against his own. Steve moves closer, pinning Eddie against the hood of the van, one of his hands leaving Eddie’s face to settle on his waist. He wants to move even closer but the angle is a little uncomfortable, and he can’t lay Eddie down against the hood the way he could do if they’d drove the Beamer. Also, the rain isn’t stopping and Steve is starting to get cold after standing under it for so long.

So he breaks them apart despite wanting to kiss Eddie longer but keeps their foreheads pressed together. “Can we get back in the van now? Before we drown for real or catch pneumonia or something?” 

“Whatever you want, baby,” Eddie says in a deep voice. The way Steve shivers this time has nothing to do with the cold and everything to do with how Eddie sounds and what he just called Steve. 

Hooking his fingers through Eddie’s belt loops, Steve drags him towards the passenger’s side, pausing to kiss him every few steps. There, instead of reaching for his door, he reaches for the sliding door handle. 

Eddie frowns. “Wait, I thought-”

“It’s still raining.” Steve kisses Eddie’s cheek. “We’re not going anywhere for a while.” He kisses the other one. “So I thought we could keep this going in the backseat.” He places one final kiss on his lips.

Eddie’s eyes widen and he nods fiercely, grabbing a fistful of Steve’s jacket and pulling him inside. They land on the backseat, Steve on top of Eddie, and while that’s exactly what Steve was after when he led them to the van, he still needs to get the door. Eddie doesn’t seem to care about that—he hooks his arms around Steve’s neck, pulling him down for a kiss. 

Steve lets it happen for a moment, already addicted to kissing Eddie but he must put a stop to it when he feels water starting to get into the van. He pushes himself up, his hands on either side of Eddie’s head, and effectively separates their lips. “Gotta get the door, Eds,” Steve says when Eddie whines. 

“Hurry up,” he says impatiently. With a nod, Steve goes about sliding the door closed and then he’s back to hovering over Eddie, leaning down to bring their mouths together again. This time he licks the seam of Eddie’s lips, and when he parts them immediately, Steve slides his tongue inside, licking into Eddie’s mouth. 

Eddie makes a small needy noise in the back of his throat and Steve takes it as approval, kissing him harder, letting one hand snake under Eddie’s wet shirt, feeling him up, while he holds himself up with the other one. Eddie’s hands make their way to Steve’s hair, fingers tangling in the wet strands, tugging lightly on them, making Steve momentarily break the kiss so he can let out a moan when the tug goes straight to his dick.

Eddie looks up at him with dark eyes. He gives his hair another tentative tug to see if he can drag that sound from Steve a second time. 

He can. 

“Fuck, Steve,” he whispers like he can’t believe this is happening. “You’re a dream.” 

Steve desperately wants to hear Eddie too, so he starts kissing his jaw, his neck, his collarbone. Eddie tips his head back with a heartfelt groan, exposing the column of his throat. Steve takes that as an invitation, sucking at the pale skin until a mark starts to bloom. He bites lightly at the skin and soothes the sting with his tongue, listening to Eddie’s delicious string of gasps and whines.

His legs come up to wrap around Steve’s waist, pulling him closer until Steve is lying on top of Eddie. 

Eddie who is hot and close and already hard against him. 

Steve is hard too, he can feel his dick pushing against his wet jeans. He knows they should probably get out of their wet clothes soon but right now he doesn’t have enough patience to do that. He doesn’t want to waste any time that could be spent kissing Eddie, not until they’re satisfied. If the way Eddie is wrapped around Steve like a needy koala means anything, he doubts Eddie wants that either. 

So instead Steve slowly moves his hips to meet Eddie’s. 

A whimper slips past Eddie’s lips at the friction. “Oh, fuck, Steve,” he pants against Steve’s lips. The way Eddie moans his name goes straight to Steve’s dick, making it twitch as it begs for more friction. He rolls his hips again. “Jesus, fuck- I’m- sweetheart-”

“You okay?” Steve asks when Eddie can’t seem to finish a sentence. When he rolls his hips again, Eddie makes a noise like he’s dying, failing to utter any words. “Want me to stop?”

“No!” Eddie protests, shaking his head, hair wild and fanned out on the seat. “Don’t stop. Just uh- fair warning, I’m about to embarrass myself and come in my pants like- fuck, like this.” 

Steve groans. “Fuck, that’s hot.”

“Yeah?” 

Nodding enthusiastically, Steve starts rolling his hips at a steady pace. “Yeah, I want it. Wanna make you come, Eddie. Wanna see you.” 

“Holy shit, Steve,” Eddie swears. On the next thrust, he pushes his hips up just as Steve grinds down and they both moan loudly.

They fall into a rhythm after that, approaching the edge quickly. Hoping to make Eddie come first, Steve wedges his hand between them, cupping Eddie’s hard dick with his palm. It feels big and Steve’s brain feels like it’s melting out of his ears when he so much as thinks about touching Eddie without his jeans and his underwear in the way, about blowing him, about Eddie fucking him. His own body jerks almost involuntarily against Eddie’s thigh. 

He does his best to rub the length of Eddie’s dick as best as he can through his clothes, pressed so close together. Eddie lets out a string of moans and whines that shoot sparks of pleasure down Steve’s spine.

“God, Eddie, you’re so- you sound so good. So fucking hot.”

Eddie shudders against him, his breaths coming quick and short. “Don’t stop,” he pleads even if Steve has no plans to stop what he’s doing, not when he’s so close to giving Eddie what he wants. Instead of stopping, he squeezes the head and strokes him faster. “Fuck, Steve, I’m close.” 

“Yeah, come on, Eddie,” Steve urges him on. Eddie sobs against Steve’s neck, hips jerking along with the movement of Steve’s hand. “Come for me, baby. Let me hear you.”

Eddie whines, high-pitched and needy. “Steve, I’m gonna-” He bites out just as Steve squeezes the head of his dick, his words trailing off into a moan as he tips over the edge. Steve watches Eddie come undone for him—head thrown back as his eyes roll into his head. It’s the hottest thing Steve has ever seen. It’s too much. He needs to come.

He grinds against Eddie’s hip, hard and desperate, chasing his own release as Eddie catches his breath. He’s so close already. 

Eddie must realize it too. “Your turn, sweetheart,” he tells him, his hand finding its way back to his hair, brushing it away from his face. “Fuck baby, you look gorgeous like this. Flushed and needy. Humping my leg, so desperate,” he whispers, kissing Steve’s cheekbones, his jaw, his neck. Little whines escape Steve’s lips as Eddie starts to run his mouth.

“Can’t wait to do this somewhere else, Stevie, someplace where I can drop to my knees and blow you.”

Steve’s breath hitches, his dick twitching when he pictures Eddie on his knees for him—lips wrapped around his dick, eyes molten as he looks up at him. “Oh my God.”

“Yeah? You want that, sweetheart?” 

Steve nods eagerly. “Y-yeah. Wanna blow you too.” 

One of Eddie’s hands cups his cheek. He runs his thumb over Steve’s bottom lip. “‘Course, baby. You can do anything you want to me.” 

Steve’s hips stutter, his brain foggy as he gets closer. “Y-you too. Anything. Fuck, Eddie, please.” 

“I got you, baby, c’mon,” Eddie whispers. His hand travels down until he’s cupping Steve’s ass, urging him to grind harder against his hip. Steve feels like he’s on fire. He’s so close, he can feel it, he just needs something more-

That’s when Eddie tugs harshly on his hair at the same time Steve grinds down, and just like that, he’s done for—he moans Eddie’s name as he spills into his boxers. Eddie kisses him through it, whispering praises against Steve’s lips that make shivers run down his spine. 

Steve can’t kiss him back at first, the aftershocks of his orgasm leaving him feeling a little stupid, yet Eddie doesn’t seem to mind—happily taking control of the kiss, licking into Steve’s pliant mouth. 

Once his brain comes back online, Steve kisses him back lazily until his neck starts to hurt and the arm holding him up cramps and he has to lower himself on top of Eddie, his head resting on his chest. 

They’re quiet for a moment, the only sound in the van is their labored breathing, as well as the rain falling outside, though not as hard as before. 

Eddie runs his fingers through Steve’s hair, which is slowly starting to dry. “We might’ve missed the game—” Eddie starts, and for a moment Steve is confused, having completely forgotten about it, “—but that was definitely a home run.” 

Steve snorts. He gives a weak slap to Eddie’s shoulder. “That’s baseball, you dork.”

“Eh, whatever. I won, ‘s what I’m saying.”

“You lost your money though,” Steve says, absently playing with Eddie’s curls.

“Worth it!” He says, and Steve can hear his grin in his voice. “Hey, it’s not raining as hard anymore. We can try and make it for the last few innings.” 

“Again, Eds, that’s baseball,” Steve giggles. Eddie shrugs, jostling him slightly. “And I told you I’m fine watching it in our hotel. I prefer it, actually. Can’t do this—” He props himself up on his elbow and kisses Eddie, “—at the game.” 

“Good point.”

Steve smirks. “Can’t fuck me at the game either.” Eddie splutters, his eyes nearly bulging out of his face. Steve laughs. “You okay?” 

“Yup! I just- I think my brain broke just by thinking about fucking you.”

“But you want to?” 

A hysterical laugh falls from Eddie’s lips. “Do I- Steve, sweetheart, baby, that’s the understatement of the year. Of the century even!”

Steve smiles, pleased. “Then it’s settled, we skip the game and head straight to the hotel.” He pauses, thinking something over. “Maybe dinner first. It can be our first date.”

“You don’t need to wine and dine me, baby,” Eddie says, “you already got into my pants.” 

Steve glances down at their still wet clothes. “Technically, I didn’t.”

Eddie snorts. “Guess you’re right. Okay! You can take me out to dinner, big boy. Though we should probably change first.” 

Steve shifts, grimacing when he feels the mess in his boxers. The fact that his clothes are soaked only makes him feel more gross. “Yeah, let’s do that.” 

They dig through their duffel bags for dry clothes and use the back of the van to change. Steve lets himself look at Eddie in a way he never allowed himself when he stayed over or when they hung out at the pool and finds Eddie staring right back, both of them smiling—giddy and slightly disbelieving. 

By the time they change, the rain has stopped completely so Steve steps out so he can move to the passenger seat. Eddie simply climbs to the front and flops gracelessly onto the driver’s seat. Steve watches him maneuver his long limbs with a fond smile, reaching over to smooth his hair down. 

Eddie smiles back at him, dimples digging into his cheek. Steve can’t help but lean over the space between them and kiss each of them before finally kissing Eddie’s lips. 

“Are you sure you’re not even a little sad we missed it?” Eddie asks when Steve pulls back. 

He shakes his head, leaning back against his seat. “No, Eds.” He grabs Eddie’s hand, interlacing their fingers together in the space between the seats. “As far as I’m concerned, I already won tonight.” 

“Steve Harrington, you sap,” Eddie teases yet he squeezes Steve’s hand, placing them on top of his leg, refusing to let go, going as far as using his other hand to switch gears as he starts the van. “Let’s make sure you score a few more times tonight.”

“Oh yeah, baby, talk sporty to me,” Steve says in a deadpan tone that makes Eddie cackle loudly.

But despite the two of them joking about it, they score again that night.

And a few more times after that. 

[hpgal]

DC X DP Ghost Dog

CW: Blood, Violence

TLDR: Jason is fighting a losing battle against a new opponent he is having trouble hitting. This leads to him being chased and running into Danny whose chilling in an alley.

Word Count: 1326

a/n: Might write more where more Batfam encounter Danny and Danny's perspective, may even rewriting the ending of this. I got the idea from a prompt someone posted here on Tumblr and I forgot to save it but I'd love to tag them if anyone can help me find them! The prompt was something along the lines of Danny will randomly appear in alleys with items that the person needs exactly to solve a problem they were having.

Jason emptied his clip a long while ago and was now being chased through Crime Alley by some sort of dog. It was big. If was angry and it was... green?

The bullets did nothing to it but aggravated the thing and so it chased him. His comms weren't working to call for backup and he was getting tired. It's been 15 minutes of running and that was before you add on he was trying to fight the thing prior and he was now injured after taking a hit meant for a civilian.

He jumped off the rooftop, stumbling. Instead of catching the opposite ledge he plummeted to the ground. A dumpster broke his fall. But damn did it hurt, especially with a prexisting slash of claws on his side. He was still human after all. He had some time but he did not want to waste a single second before it could catch back up to him. So, begrudgingly and in pain, Jason pushed himself back up and out the dumpster.

"Great I'm going to smell like rotten fish for a week" he muttered to no one in particular as he brushed garbage off him.

Before he could formulate a game plan, his thought process froze. He looked up in confusion and blinked. Then blinked again as he stared at what he saw.

A kid with black hair and looked incredibly scrawny sat on a stoll behind a table with a sign "Clockworks Goods and Services!" The kid seemed unbothered with headphones on and eyes closed as he leaned back against the wall of the alley.

Hell the kid almost looked like Damian. If he has blue eyes he'd be a perfect candidate for a Bruce adoption. But why was a kid here.. selling his services?

Jason takes a moment to listen out and notice it is oddly quiet which meant the green dog must not be close yet so he takes advantage of the situation to figure out what the hell is going on here. He takes a step forward and looks at the contents on the table. It was empty except for a single bell with faded writing saying "ring me!" And so he did.

The kid opens his eyes with a start. They were piercing blue. Oh Bruce would fall for this kid instantly, he thinks to himself.

"Oh evening!" The kid starts as he stands up stretching as he removes his headphones from his head. "It looks like you're in need of my services. What is your problem today?"

The kid was so nonchalant as he spoke and moved around. The kid glanced at the table and furrowed his brow. "My names Danny by the way" he quickly adds on.

Jason stares at Danny through his mask perplexed. Something about this didn't sit right with him. It was late at night and Danny was hanging out in an alleyway selling services yet he looked not a day over 15.

But something drives him to answer Danny's question and answer it truthfully, "I'm fighting something and none of my attacks are working on it but it's causing destruction and hurting the people of Crime Alley. It even managed to injure me"

As soon as he says it, he wants to smack himself. Why would he need to tell the kid that? He shoyld be telling him to grt out of here, that it isn't safe.

Danny however shrugs like this was normal for him and looks down at the table again. The plastic folding tables surface remained empty except for the bell but Danny seems confused at this.

"Huh usually it appears when you say it." Danny mutters and proceeds to look under the table then behind him.

Jason however is further confused and raises a hand to his helmet to try his comms again. Unsurprisingly he hears only static. What he does hear instead of his families voices, is the barking of a dog in the distance and something crashing.

Aw shit.

Jason looks up then towards the entrance of the alley with a sigh, "Look, kid, I'm going to circle back to you and your... weirdness later, for now, you need to find somewhere safe while I deal with an abnormally large and green dog."

This seems to catch Danny's attention as he jerks back upright and looks at me. He stares, and I see the wheels in his head turn. He sighs, and his shoulders slump inwards.

"I get it now. I'm the service you need" Danny rolls his shoulders back and steps out from behind the table, heading to the entrance of the alley.

"Woah kid stay back! It's dangerous!" Jason calls out behind him as he jogs to catch up, only slightly twitching in pain as he moves. The kid was incredibly fast for someone who looked malnourished.

As soon as Jason reaches the street, he turns to see where the kid had gone. His eyes widened at the sight of Danny walking like it was just another day towards the rampaging dog.

Danny stops just out of reach of the green dog and whistles two quick notes. The dog pauses and looks towards Danny, its fast twisting from one of anger to excitement as evident with its tail wagging.

“Cujo!” Danny yells, “Bad dog! Drop the car!” the dog whines and drops the car it had in its mouth with a loud thud.

The dog, Jason now knows as Cujo, gets low to the ground and its ears press against its head like any dogs would when they are embarrassed or know they’ve been caught doing something they weren’t supposed too.

“Come here boy! It’s time to take you home!” Danny calls out to it, producing a glowing green dog treat from his pockets.

Jason just watches the entire encounter unfold, gobsmacked. He doesn’t know what to think of it. He couldn’t believe his luck. It was that simple. Who is this kid? As Jason continues to watch his jaw drops to the floor at what happens next.

The dog starts shrinking until it is ithe size of a puppy and comes bounding up to Danny with little playful barks. Danny scoops Cujo up with a sigh and scratches Cujos head right behind his ears.

Danny turns to look towards me, the street where Cujo came from a mess. He gives a sheepish smile and wave, “Sorry about that! I didn’t think Cujo followed me today! I’ll speak to my dog sitter about watching him more carefully next time!”

Danny turns back towards the chaos Cujo created on the street and glances at his watch. “Well, it’s time for me to clock out. I’ll send someone to clean up the mess! Sorry again!” Danny pauses for a moment as he glances once more at Jason, squinting.

A green glowing portal opens up behind Danny and he looks between Jason and the portal. He sets Cujo down and directs him to go through the portal. Danny jogs over to Jason, digging through his pockets.

“Oh sorry you’re hurt and sick. Probably my fault honestly. Here.” Danny shoves something into Jason's hands before he can protest, dumbfounded by what just happened, “That should get rid of the tainted Lazarus Waters in your soul and let your injury heal up like normal. Sorry again!”

Jason just stares before finally getting his bearings again, “Who the hell are you?!”

Danny just laughs, “I’m just your friendly neighborhood ghost.” and with that Danny leaves through the portal, it closing behind him leaving destruction and a baffled Jason in the street.

Like Danny promised, not even a few minutes later, another portal opened up in the streets of Crime Alley, spilling out dozens of glowing green people, who Jason started to believe were really ghosts. The ghosts got to work and by morning, it was like nothing happened.

At the next family dinner, no one believed Jason of what happened that night.

-----

a/n: I feel like we don't see Cujo enough in fics. I mean come on, a ghost dog? How cool is that?!?! I love Cujo <3 And we all know how much Cujo loves Danny!

[stepintothelimelight]

▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄SHE CAN GO HOME, BUT SHE’S NOT GOING TO

┊┊┊�� ⁺ ⁺ 　° i would do

anything

you want me to…. ✧ ⁺ ┊

PART 4 of the Spitfire Saga

TRAILER: A home race that doesn’t feel like home anymore

(2018!f1grid x fem!Genz!driver!reader, max verstappen x reader (platonic), lewis hamilton x reader (platonic) sebastian vettel x reader (platonic))

For more Spitfire content go to my account and it’s my pinned post since tumblr hates me and won’t let me link anything :)

WARNINGS: FAMILY ISSUES, mentioned child abuse, swearing, gratuitous hurt/comfort, reader’s birthday happens before the gp, mention of a suicidal thought, ANGST, barely edited :)

fc: an assortment of female celebs

Aaaaannnnd ACTION!

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f1

f1: 🇺🇸🦅💥💥💥HOME RACE FOR Y/N L/N 🇺🇸🦅🦅🦅 

 American fans - be there or be 🟦

📍Circuit of the Americas

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You arrive early, per usual, to make sure you have time for every fan, and maybe to catch a glimpse of Taylor Swift, who will be singing the national anthem today.

Your phone call with Seb last night quickly turned into him and Hanna knocking on your hotel room door and enveloping you in their arms. You fell asleep between the two of them, a comfort show playing on low volume in the background.

You hate that it caught you off guard. A small, stupid part of you actually believed that your family - your mother - could love you like they - like she- was meant to. 

It was supposed to be fun. You dressed up, treated them to one of the nicest restaurants in Austin. The second they arrived, though, it all turned to shit. 

At least your fans are majorly little girls and they couldn’t care less if you’re having widely photographed, public arguments with your older brother after a family dinner turned sour. 

Miraculously, you get into the paddock unscathed by prying questions into your personal life. You just get set up in your drivers room for Qualifying and try to put it all behind you. You don’t see Taylor, and unlike any other day, you don’t have the energy to face the paddock.

As you rearrange your hangers for the hundredth time, there’s a knock on your door. You sigh. Most of the team knows that you like your private time before any event, especially your first home race. 

“Yeah?”

The door opens slowly. It’s Lewis. Since the beginning of the season, your relationship with him has definitely developed. He’s good friends with Seb and you have a sneaking suspicion that he has told Lewis to keep an eye on you where Seb can’t. He’s become a sort of mentor-slash-friend and you couldn’t be happier, especially since you’ve both signed on for another few years at Mercedes. 

“Hey.”

“Hey,” you say. 

Lewis sent me this. 

“Did you hear about Taylor Swift?” You exclaim. “How cool is that?”

He grants you a trademark half-smile. 

“Consider it a belated birthday gift.”

You eyes widen and your mouth drips open.

“It was you?”

He shrugs.

“It wasn’t very hard to convince her.”

You hurry over to him, hesitate for a second, then hug him gently. You’ve never hugged him in a normal setting. You break off of him and stand there, not quite knowing what to say next.

“Home race,” He says awkwardly. Lewis is hardly ever awkward. “Big deal.”

“Yeah.” You don’t mean to sound annoyed. Or tired. Or defeated. 

“Family coming? I’d like to meet them. I don’t think I have, yet. “

That’s true. Your mother has been to two Grand Prix since the start of the season and your father and brother one, respectively. They’re busy people, but after last night, some part of you wonders if your mother intentionally schedules conflicts so that they can never make it. 

That’s stupid, she says in your head. We love you. You’re the one who makes this whole thing impossible. 

When they have shown up, you’ve kept them as far away as possible from cameras, and Lewis draws every camera in every room he steps foot in. Maybe your brother is right. Maybe you hide them because of some secret shame you hold for them. The only thing you’re ashamed of is how complicated your relationship with your family is. 

“No. I-“

What?

Sent them home? 

Told them to never show their faces around the paddock again?

Cried into Seb’s chest all of last night wishing I was dead because of how horrible they make me feel?

“Couldn’t deal with them today,” you say decisively. The media might see you as a stone cold bitch, so why not Lewis, too. 

“They’re your family.”

“They hate me,” you whisper, turning back you your hangers. You’ve never said it out loud. Not to Max or Charles, not even to Hanna last night when she was helping you wash your face through swollen eyes and a runny nose.

“I’m sure they don’t-“

“You’ve never met them. My mom hates me. She loathes me and for the life of me I can’t figure out why. I have given her everything and she still don’t bring herself to even like me a little bit. The rest this I’m too independent, too liberal, not liberal enough, too opinionated, too young, too smart, whatever. My dad and his side wish I went to university and my mom’s side tries to chase the fame. It sucks. It didn’t use to be like this, but it is now.”

You spare a glance back at him. He’s wide- eyed. This is probably the most he’s heard you talk without cracking a joke or bursting out laughing.

“Have you told Seb? Or… Max, Charles?”

“Seb, yes. Max would order a hit on my entire family if I told him this type of thing and Charles would hide the evidence.”

What you told Charles at Christmas, he didn’t acknowledge then and there, but he was noticeably cold to your mother when you brought her to see him.  

Lewis studied you, then a look dawns on his face. It’s a mix of dread and fury, but he schools it quickly.

“Y/n,” He says in a very serious tone. “Don’t lie to me.”

Your brow furrows.

“Do they - does your mother or your father hit you?”

It wasn’t the question you’d expected, but it still makes your blood turn cold.

You think for a second, contemplate his expression, run the risks of him exploding if you tell him the truth. 

“No…” you trail off. “Once. I made her mad when I was fifteen and-“ you raise your own hand and slap your face. “Never after though.”

She cried into your shoulder for hours after, telling you just how sorry she was, how she would never dream of laying another violent hand on you again. 

Lewis’s mouth opens then closes. You purse your lips. 

“I don’t need my family,” you whisper. “And I don’t need you to worry about me. I’m fine.”

He gives you a look, one that says:

There’s no way in hell I believe you.

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chalmaxy/nship

chalmaxy/nship: Max and Charles (+Pierre) teaming up to cheer Y/n up 😫 they are sooooo whipped for her (even tho they pretend they hate each other 🙄)

tagged: max33verstappen, charles_leclerc, pierregasly, yourusername, f1

liked by lestappenforever and 4773 others

view 627 comments

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The video starts with the camera fixed on a very angry - looking Y/n. Her brow is set and her mouth is distorted in a flat line, which of course, is to be expected. She was obviously off her usual top-five worthy game today and has earned herself a starting position of P20.

The interviewer asks her a series of questions that she responds to very flatly and emotionlessly, so much so that her press officer elbows her in the side more than once to get an actual, genuinely not sarcastic answer out of her. 

And then -

“Do you think your family issues are the reason you’ve performed so miserably today?”

She stops. Pauses, opens her mouth then closes it again. 

“That,” she drags out bitingly. “was an incredibly stupid and insensitive question. Every question you’ve asked me today has been either completely patronizing or borderline inappropriate.”

She shoots a look at her press officer, shakes her head slightly, then leans into the microphone.

“You’ll understand why we’re choosing to cut this interview short.”

And then she turns and leaves the media pen.

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mercedesamgf1

mercedesamgf1: AAAAAaaaaaannnnnddd she’s done it again! A home race win is yet another thing our Spitfire can check off of her bucket list 💪 

tagged: yourusername

liked by yourusername, f1 and 63720 others 

view 67199 comments 

user6: Admin really said yes she’s a spitfire yes she’s OUR Spitfire 

user7: did anyone else notice how down Y/n seemed up on the podium tho

⮑ user11: Yeah, definitely not the energy we’re used to up there

yourusername: 🖤🖤

⮑user12: girl I need to know the tea behind the story and the tweet 🙏🙏🙏

user7: Call me crazy but she’s the biggest talent of her generation, not Verstappen 

⮑ user8: you’re crazy

⮑user9: @/user8: did we not just watch the same race? 

user10: she’s making the sport annoying.

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yourusername

yourusername: Great home race win guys! 🇺🇸💥💥🦅💥 lovely to share the podium with maxie and lewie

tagged: mercedesamgf1

liked by max33verstappen, charles_leclerc and 738291 others 

view 7329 comments

max33verstappen: Get ready, I’m coming to get you in an hour to celebrate 

⮑yourusername: I can’t drink here dumbass

⮑user13: MaxY/n confirmed???

taylorswift: So glad I finally got to meet you in person! 

⮑ user14: TAYLOR SWIFT WAS THERE AND Y/N DIDNT EVEN MENTION IT???? OH SOMETHING’S WRONG WRONG

⮑ yourusername: 🖤

user15: U go Spitfire!!

user16: Y/n is such a bitch. 

lewishamilton: This is starting to sound redundant, but congrats Y/n!

user17: I still can’t get over how rude she was to that reporter 

⮑user18: EVERY reporter is rude and/or patronizing towards her. She deserves to bite back once and a while

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True to his word, Max knocks on your door. You get up from the spot you’ve been staring out the window and open it.

He’s dressed up, ready to go out drinking, you suppose. You’ve changed into your pajamas and tied your hair up sloppily. 

He arches his eyebrows.

“Ready to celebrate?”

You shrug. 

“Not really in the mood. Plus I can’t drink here. You go ahead, tell the team to send me the bill and I’ll pick it up.”

You go to close the door then. He kicks his foot between the door and the doorframe. 

“Come out. It could still be fun,” He offers. “It’s your home race. I’d be happy if I won at spa.”

He raised his eyes brows at you and you look down guiltily. You should be happy. You’ve broken a record of some kind, you’re pretty sure, and every other driver dreams of winning his home race. 

“You’d be happy because your family would be there to see it,” you say bitterly. “Because then you’d be able to prove to them it wasn’t all for nothing. That you’re not selfish or - or something.”

Max closes the door when he hears your voice tremor. There’s a hard concern in his eyes. 

“Go, Max. You should celebrate.”

“I don’t want to anymore.”

You look him up and down. He’s gelled his hair and put on a non redbull shirt. Obviously he’s gearing up for a big night of celebrating. 

“Tell me,” He says. “You can talk to me. I’m not a stranger to family issues.”

You scoff and flop onto your bed. 

“It’s not a big deal.”

“You love partying. It’s a big deal.”

It’s quiet, except for his slightly heavy breathing. Here’s Mad Max Verstappen, standing at the foot of your bed begging you to confide in him with his eyes. His big, sad, droopy eyes.

You cover your face with the your arm.

“I can’t believe they actually left,” you choke out. “I told them to go and they just … left. The first time my entire family could muster up the time and effort to spend an entire weekend supporting me and they decide to just go home.”

Max moves towards you, hesitates, then settles himself on the floor next to your bedside table. 

“Why?”

You huff. 

“I don’t know. I push them away. I get on my mom’s nerves. I try too hard to impress my dad. Did you know,” you take a deep breath. “Did you know my mother hasn’t told me good night or I love you in five years?”

He sits and stares out the window. 

“Why doesn’t she love me, Max?”

It comes out more pathetic than you wanted it to. Max is probably one of the only people who might get it, just a little. 

“Schat…” he trails off. “I don’t know.”

Max is two years older than you. Sometimes those two years feel like a lifetime. You wish he was a lifetime older than you so he would know.

“Maybe…” He trails off. “Fuck. Maybe some people just aren’t made to be parents.”

You squeeze your eyes shut to try and push down the sobs building in your chest. Max, thankfully, doesn’t react when you let out a soft gasp and sniff wetly. He just sits there and stares out the window

Eventually, you curl up in your bed and Max sits a on the other side (on top of the covers, a safe two feet away) and turn on Star wars (The prequels - he’s a huge nerd, surprise, surprise).

Maybe some people aren’t made to be parents.

Maybe some people aren’t made to be daughters. 

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✧ ⁺ ⁺ Yelled down the hall

but nobody answered ┊┊┊✧ ⁺ ⁺ 　°

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Aaannnnnnddd scene!

DIRECTOR’S CUT: A short and sad angsty hurt comfort type of thing… next chapter i swear will be happier !!

Want to join the taglist? drop a comment below or message my inbox

🏷️ @octavikravecell218 @laura-naruto-fan1998 @sugarrush-blush @scarletwidow3000 @umm-i-love-u

@tallrock35 @itsjustkhaos @dullwaterlily @demande @delululeclerc

[dyaz-stories]

you took the words right out of my mouth || Kim Yeong-Hu x Reader

word count: 1k

warnings & tags: mostly sweet and fluffy, implied sex but nothing explicit, just harmless flirtation

A/N: For @neohumanmonster's Born in Blood prompt! I don't know if I'll post the other prompts right away because I don't want to burn myself out, so I hope you'll enjoy that one in the meantime!

“You do realize that there are two doctors in here, right?” you ask as you enter the room, not bothering to greet the man sitting on the examination table.

Sergeant Kim Young Hu’s eyes follow you as you walk to the sink to wash your hands. Around his bicep, a makeshift bandage seeped with red. By the looks of it, it isn’t the worst state you’ve seen him in.

“I’m not letting that lunatic touch me,” he answers, his voice calm, as it usually is, and you roll your eyes.

You’d be lying if you said you were a fan of Dr. Lim. You already had your issues with the man when you both worked for the government, before this all started. Once the Outbreak had begun, it had taken you forty-eight hours as his assistant before you had requested to start working out in the field. You’re well-aware of his shortcomings.

Unfortunately, and it stings to admit it, he’s one of the most competent doctors you’ve ever met. He’d be more than able to take care of the Sergeant.

“You do realize I have other things to do, right?”

“And I am deeply sorry to have taken you away from your fifth grade biology lessons.”

…Okay, he has a point. Finally done with your thorough handwashing — it’s not nearly as sanitizing as you’d like it to be, but it’s not like there’s a lot more you can do —, you come to stand in front of him.

“Does it hurt a lot?” you ask as you start undoing the bandage. At least working with the military means that the men all know what they’re doing in terms of first-aid.

“Could be worse. I think I just need stitches.”

You’d trust him, if it wasn’t for the fact that you’ve heard him say that about injuries that could have been fatal, had you not been there. In this case, though, you’re relieved to see it does look mostly fine. Whatever attacked him slashed through him, deep enough to be concerning but without actually damaging the muscle or hitting an important artery.

“What happened here?”

“One of the guys tried to take something from a monster,” the Sergeant Kim replies flatly. “I intervened.”

“Oh, it’s good it didn’t turn out worse, then?”

“Not really,” he says with a shrug. “The monster wasn’t violent until disturbed. This could have easily been avoided.”

“Sounds like your boys need a stern talking-to.”

While talking, you go fetch what you need. At least you’ve got everything required for something like stitching someone up, which you can’t say about most other ailments.

“I’ll handle that,” the Sergeant answers from behind you, and you smile. He exudes this quiet strength that you cannot help but be impressed by. His men would follow him to the end of the world and back, if he asked, and you can see why.

“Alright, well, you know the drill,” you tell him, coming back in front of him. “Think you’ll be okay?”

It’s silly to ask, with how often you’ve had to patch him or his men up. You’re well aware of his resistance to pain. Nonetheless, your training requires you ask, even if it’s no surprise when he nods in answer.

“Just go for it.”

You make quick and easy work of the wound. You focus on being fast and efficient rather than on lessening the pain, which you know is for the best with him. It’s not long before you’re setting your tools back down, done with your work. There are a few seconds during which the Sergeant takes the time to relax his jaw, to breathe in a couple of times, and then he nods at you.

“All done?” he asks.

“You’ll need to come back here so I can check on it,” you say. “And try not to put any strain yourself with that arm for a couple days, alright?”

He nods, but you don’t put much faith in that. As a soldier, you’d think he’d be good at following orders and, to be fair, you’ve heard he did an outstanding job most of the time. Unfortunately, your recommendations seemed to fall into deaf ears more often than not.

“Is that all?”

“Sure,” you say, even if his nonchalance exhausts you. “Hope I don’t see you here again for a good while.”

This, at least, brings a smile to his lips, and you try your best to suppress your shiver. He gets up from the table, and stands up, just inches from you. He’s so close, his torso almost brushes against your chest.

“Is that so, Doc?”

Damn that man.

“You know, if you keep this up, I’ll end up thinking you’re landing yourself in here on purpose,” you say.

The smile turns more amused.

“I would never endanger myself on purpose,” he tells you with disarming honesty. “But I’d be lying if I said I minded this kind of flesh wounds all that much these days.”

And before you can tell him just what you think of that, of course, he leans in to capture your lips. It’s not the first time. It doesn’t look like it will be the last time. And you’re in one of the very few rooms in the stadium that can actually lock.

Fuck it, you decide, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him closer to you. It doesn’t matter why the two of you play that game together, the people you shared a past with and that are long gone, the fact that this relationship was built on blood. What matters is that in his arms, for however long you get to have him, you forget that the world is doomed.

If him coming back for more over and over again is any indication, so does he.

hope you liked this, it's a little sillier than what i've written for the fandom so far, so that was fun to play with. i don't know if i'll write for other soldiers because most of them... didn't leave me much of an impression as far as their personality goes, but i tried something for sergeant kim ^-^ please consider leaving a comment or reblogging if you're enjoying my writing, interactions are what keep me motivated to write for a fandom!

more writing for sweet home

[pandora-writes-one-piece]

Happy, happy birthday Pandora! <3 I wish you all the health and happiness!

"I’m not saying I like you, but if a sea beast ate you, I might cry a little." (that prompt is just so cute ahhh) with Eustass Kid please - fem!reader, sfw

Isn't it a cute prompt anon? I had fun with it! Especially with this firecracker of a Captain! Thank you soooo much for the birthday wishes and I hope you enjoy this! ❤️

Source for pic

Drowning in Flames

Word Count: 1652

Tags: fem!reader; cursing; feelings; love confessions;

Special Warning: English is not my first language, I apologise for any possible spelling or grammar mistakes.

Summary: You saved Kid from drowning and your thanks involves scrubbing the deck.

Tag List: @rosidaze @beachaddict48 @armiliadawn @jintaka-hane @sprinkklz @baby5555 @hopelesslover06 @mars-mizuko @sleepykittycx @nerium-lil @eustasscapitankid

|Masterlist|

“Reckless idiot! Stupid moron! Thoughtless imbecile.”

“Oi! I’m still yer Captain! Watch yer filthy mouth before I wash it with soap!”

Water puddles gather around your feet and each step you take makes a sploshing sound. Your eyeliner is running and you blame your freaking idiot captain for it. Okay, not all of it. You could’ve been less stingy and bought the waterproof eyeliner like - clearly - Eustass fucking Kid did. But the rest was his fault.

“I don’t give a shit!” You’re standing up on the deck and he’s sitting down, but you still need to look up to meet his eyes. “You almost drowned you reckless-...” Kid arches his eyebrow and growls. “Captain!” A hiss leaves your lips just as the salt from the water makes contact with a cut from the sword fight you were engaged in before having to save your captain’s ass!

“So did ya!” He shouts, throwing his arms in the air and splashing more water over the deck. 

You could make out the faint sounds of Killer ordering the crew around so you could manoeuvre away from the wreckage of the pirate ship you all had just annihilated.  

“I only almost drowned because you fell in the water like an idiot! A heavy, fat-assed, idiot whom I don’t have the strength to save from fucking drowning!”

“Oi, lass! I will tell ya this one more time,” Kid rises, looking more menacing by the inch, and leans down until his face is right in front of yours. “Ya call me an idiot again and I’ll have to punish ya.”

A mischievous smile curves your lips upwards and you cross your arms over your chest in a clear teasing manner, trying to push your captain further and see where it gets you. “Oh, really, Captain? And what’s the punishment?”

Eustass Kid’s unhinged grin should’ve given you a hint of what’s coming. 

It did not.

-*-

“Fucking Captain. I save his ass  from drowning and I have to scrub the freaking deck. Figures.” You keep muttering between clenched teeth. As soon as the Doc patched you up, Heat handed you a rag, a bucket and a mop, telling you Kid ordered you to leave the deck glistening.

He didn’t even have the decency to tell you himself!

You almost drowned trying to save his heavy ass from the freezing, relentless sea, and this is the thanks you get? 

“Fucking glistening? It’s gonna be fucking perfect! You’re gonna be able to eat off this shit.”

And you mean it too. Even when you crack a third nail by scrubbing too hard.

-*-

Dinner time comes and goes and you are still scrubbing. There are no more nails left to crack or break. Your hands are red and raw and your knees are bruised and have definitely seen better days.

There's a moment when you think you might have reopened that slash in your leg, but it stops bleeding after a while so you shrug it off. You’re not going to be the first one to cave.

When the stars are high up in the sky and the moon is casting its glow on the deck, you fall on your butt, kick the bucket to the side and sigh in satisfaction as your back hits the balustrade. 

“Fucking glistening. Look at that reflection! I can count the stars without looking at the sky.” 

A pained grunt leaves your lips as you start to feel sore and tired, cramped and cranky. A heated battle followed by almost drowning and a thorough scrubbing of the deck does that to you. 

“It just took ya all day, lass.”

Fuck.

“Captain. I hope you’re happy.” You close your eyes and rest your head against the railing, exhaustion seeping in through every bone of your body. You don’t have to open your eyes to feel him settling down near you.

“I’m fucking pissed.”

A moment of silence surrounds you before a chuckle emerges from your lips. It starts as a soft snicker followed by a snort, but soon evolves into something you can’t control and you laugh out loud.

“Glad to be of service.” Kid grunts, clearly not amused. “How’re ya feeling?”

“Like I died. Except not really, because everything hurts.” A groan leaves your lips as Kid places his flesh arm on top of your shoulders and pulls you against his body. 

“Ya did good, lass.”

A stubborn tear prickles behind your eyelids and you bury your head against Kid’s body. The scent of metal, oil and sea makes you want to cry, but you’ll be damned if you do that. 

“You almost drowned!” Your whine is pathetic and desperate. You don’t really care.

“But I didn’t.” He chuckles softly, or as softly as he can.

“Now you’re amused? Seriously?” You remove your head from the crook of his neck, your hand grabbing his shirt as your eyes pin him, anger written all over them. “You almost died! Do I have to spell it out for you?”

You’ve never been so afraid in your life before. Somehow, in the midst of the fight, Kid tripped and fell overboard. He was being so reckless with his attacks that it was bound to happen. Everyone was so busy with their own fights that no one noticed. So, you didn’t even think twice before jumping after him.

Obviously dragging his heavy, unconscious ass out of the water was the most tiresome and dreadful experience of your life.

Not to mention the panic and despair clawing at your chest. The possibility of losing the man you love to the clutches of the unforgiving sea. You only saved him by pure luck and adrenaline, there was no other explanation. 

“Aww, look at ya so worried about me, lass.” His hand grabs your chin as his playful eyes mock your tearful ones.

“Fuck off.” You brush his metal hand away and cross your arms over your chest, staring into the sky to blink away tears. 

“Ya like me. Admit it.”

There's this weird dance between you and Kid: he flirts and you avoid it, turning the conversation to safer topics or actually fleeing the scene; Then when you flirt he avoids you, by being gruff and bossing you around.

You know there are polls running around the crew, betting on when one of you will finally cave and fess up. Some are only about how long until you fuck each other. Others are about who will kill whom first. 

You love him, that’s the truth. 

But you’ll be damned if you’ll admit it.

Crinkling your nose and placing a hand on your chin, you say whimsically: "Well, I’m not saying I like you, but if a sea beast ate you, I might cry a little…” You shrug, avoiding the real topic of the conversation. “That’s the only reason I saved you.”

Kid pins you under his fierce gaze and you shift uncomfortably. It’s like he’s reading into your soul. 

“What?” You add, not sure how to respond to his stare. 

“Yer lying.” He leans forward and the sound that leaves your lips is half-squeak, half-weird-horn-like-sound. 

“The fuck would I lie about?” You squirm again under his gaze and try to move, but his metal arm grabs your chin, keeping you in place, challenging you. 

“Yer lying.” He repeats.

“Fine!” You relent, an urgency in your voice. “I would cry a lot! Happy?”

He leans in again and the distance between you is so small that you can smell rum and chocolate on his breath. 

“Better. Yer still lying. That’s not the only reason ya jumped into the water for me, is it lass?” Each word is a caress against your lips, a promise of something more, a plea to confess. 

Yet you don’t. 

“You're my captain.”

“Not enough.”

“The crew needs you.”

“That’s not it.”

“Killer would be devastated.”

“Try a little harder, lass.”

“Heat-...” He interrupts you with a pinch to your chin and a growl.

“Yer pissing me off again, the truth, lass!”

“Fine!” You yell in his face, your cheeks turning red as your chest heaves with shallow, nervous breaths. “I need you! I would be devastated! I would miss you! I love you!” Inhaling a gasp at the sudden confession, you purse your lips, trying to trap the words inside, but they have already escaped. 

Kid’s shit-eating grin travels through you like a wildfire that burns and destroys everything in its wake. It's powerful, it's raging, it's burning. It speaks to your soul and leaves you in a shaking, trembling mess. 

“Finally, the truth.” His metal hand releases your chin and, for a moment, you think he’s getting up to leave. Your heart skips a beat, thinking about the vulnerability of your words and how he’s going to dismiss them so quickly until…

The cold of his metal hand against your nape does nothing to cool off the heat of his scorching kiss. His lips crash into yours, demanding, hungry and commanding. A little nudge from his flesh arm has you climbing his lap in a desperate embrace as both of you deepen the connection. 

After a moment he pulls back and you're left panting and dazed, your eyes lost in his, your heart pounding so hard against your chest that you fear it might explode. 

“I love ya too, lass. Don’t ever jump in the sea again without my permission.”

The wildfire that is Kid may burn everything in its path, but the embers left behind don’t fade out. They keep sparking to life, burning bigger, hotter and more dangerously than the previous fires. 

“Not even to save your ass from a sea beast?”

He chuckles before he gets up, settling you over his shoulder, ready to take this somewhere else. 

“Especially not to save my ass from a sea beast. I will never die, lass. Burn that into yer pretty little head, will ya?”

“Aye, aye, Captain.”

[littlejuicebox]

The other kind of kink.

Written as a giveaway prize for @chaoticgoodstuff! Hope you enjoy the final version posted here! <3

Pairing: Spawn Astarion x Female Tav

Summary: Astarion didn't quite know how to form a relationship with Tav after she rejected him at the tiefling party. But he begins to realize that perhaps he has other expertise that may be of use to the woman. Namely, curly hair care.

Word Count: 4K

Tags/Warnings: fluff, sweet astarion, brief mentions of astarion's trauma/past, lightly ooc astarion, idk what else it's mostly fluff tbh lol

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“So which path do you think we should take, soldier? Underdark or Mountain Pass? Either way, I’m ready to slash some baddies!” Karlach says, swinging her ax for show as the two warrior women chat while Gale finishes cooking dinner. 

It would be at least another hour and the women were starving.

“Hmm…” Tav murmurs, looking up at her tiefling friend from where she had been sharpening her great sword. It certainly needed a bit of attention, after slashing through so many goblins a few days ago, “I haven’t decided yet, any suggestions?” 

Karlach shrugs and shakes her head before turning to look at Astarion, where he is perched on a log, filing his nails, not more than a few feet away, “Oi! What do you reckon, Fangs? Underdark or Mountain Pass?”

The silver-haired elf glances up from his task momentarily, assessing Tav and Karlach, scarlet eyes narrowed in thought, “Both sound equally atrocious. But if the great Archdruid Halsin said the Underdark is the safer route – which I find impossible to believe – then, I suppose that is my vote. Work smarter, not harder and all that.”

Tav nods, considering the rogue’s suggestion, and with a final rub of whetstone on metal, sheaths her great sword as she says, “Astarion’s right. Underdark, it is.”

“Well of course I’m right, darling! Aren’t I always?” Astarion responds with a pleased little chuckle as he tucks away his nail file. 

Inside, his confidence glows at the small bit of validation from their camp leader. He’d felt as if her view of him may have changed after the very awkward encounter they’d had at the tiefling party a few days ago, when he’d drunkenly propositioned her and she’d adamantly refused. He’d thought their relationship – could he call it friendship? – all but ruined after that blunder. Apparently he’d somehow misread the signs, and she wasn’t looking for sex like every other individual he’d ever known. 

Astarion had considered their prior interactions dancing on the border of flirtatious, but Tav indicated she preferred to focus on their cause, not on intermingling with her campmates. He thought Tav a bit odd after that interaction, and admittedly felt a bit insulted in the moment. He was gorgeous, why wouldn’t she jump at the opportunity he dangled in front of her? 

But, in the soberness of the following morning, Astarion decided he could work within her parameters; he’d just have to find another way to secure her favoritism. In fact, in some ways he was thankful she rejected him. 

“Yeah, yeah, you’re a genius,” Tav responds with a laugh, rolling her eyes at the rogue as she stands and stretches, “Well, I’m off to clean up before dinner, if either of you care to join?”

Karlach waves her hand dismissively, “Nah! I’ll do that after dinner. But can I borrow your whetstone for my ax?”

Tav nods at the tiefling, watching as Karlach grabs the stone and walks off toward her tent, ax in hand, before turning to address her other campmate, “And what about you, Astarion?”

The silver-haired elf shrugs and nods; at this point he’s taking any opportunity he can to spend time with Tav. The more he’s with her and gets to know her, the closer she will get to him, and the more secure he will feel. 

Or at least, that’s his only Plan B. Since Plan A went up in flames. 

He crouches to gather his bathing supplies from his pack before coming closer to the warrior woman currently waiting for him, “I suppose I could do with a bit of a bath. It isn’t hair wash day, but–” 

“It isn’t hair wash day?” Tav interjects, her eyebrows furrowing at the vampire, “You don’t wash your hair every day? Isn’t that… gross?”

The rogue pauses and blinks at the woman, tilting his head just a fraction as he assesses her, “Darling, please tell me you are not washing your hair every day. I understand on the days we are soaked in blood and guts it is a necessity… but, certainly you haven’t washed your hair every single day for the past three days when we have done nothing apart from lounge in camp and prepare to move onto the next part of our journey… right?” 

Tav cocks her head to the side, mirroring Astarion’s bewildered expression as she asks, “Should I… not be?”

That explains quite a bit, Astarion thinks, as his eyes roam over the unruly curls springing from the crown of Tav’s head. He’d thought it was perhaps an odd stylistic choice, or she simply did not care about the state of her hair, but maybe it was merely ignorance. Perhaps no one ever showed her how to care for the red, curly locks cascading like a lion’s mane around her face.

A small wave of sympathy crosses Astarion’s heart; he internally smashes it down before the wave grows into a tsunami. Best to not care too much about this woman, she could turn into a mindflayer at any moment, after all. And then he’d have to slice her to ribbons, as previously agreed upon.

“Ah.. well, darling. It isn’t wrong, exactly,” He starts, his eyes shifting away from Tav’s face as he tries to delicately address the matter, “It’s just… with a hair texture like yours, you aren’t doing yourself any favors.”

Tav simply blinks in response, her expression vacant; she is not understanding Astarion’s meaning.

The rogue sighs and shakes his head slightly. Well, he at least tried to be delicate, but that did not seem to sink in. More direct, it is. 

A vague gesture to his friend’s red curls and then Astarion explains, “Your hair is dry, Tav. That is why it is difficult to maintain and why you’ve broken more than one comb trying to drag it through that unruly mane.”

A flicker of embarrassment crosses Tav’s face and the rogue groans. He doesn’t know how to navigate feelings and friendships; his relationships with his siblings had been much less work… not that he particularly enjoyed those relationships or cared if the other spawn liked him. But he wanted Tav to like him, if only for his own motives, of course. 

“It’s really… not all that bad, darling. But perhaps I could help you, give you a few pointers? I think your hair could be quite gorgeous – your best feature, even, given the proper care. It’s rare to see a natural redhead like you, it already captures a lot of attention… let’s make it something awe-inspiring.” Astarion says, gently, his hand coming out to tug at one frizzy curl as he tries to smooth over the insult he just threw at his campmate. 

But, hells, someone had to tell her eventually. Even his siblings wouldn’t let him walk around with such unruly locks. 

“O-oh, sure, okay,” Tav agrees, still trying to overcome the embarrassment as her own hand comes to rake through her hair and gets caught in a nest of tangles, instead. She grimaces; Astarion had a point, it seemed, “Do I need to bring anything special?”

“Let me go back to my tent and grab my hair washing supplies, I’ll meet you down by the river in a bit, hm?” Astarion responds with a small smile before turning back toward his tent and disappearing within the shelter to rummage through his vast collection of shampoos, oils, perfumes, and soaps.

Tav merely hums in agreement and then heads in the opposite direction, toward the camp-designated bathing spot, towel in hand. As she’s walking, she pulls a curl in front of her eyes and examines it with a new perspective. Gods, it really was dry.

*

When Astarion makes his way to the river, he finds Tav waist-deep in the rushing water, still in her smallclothes and soaping her arms. Her back is turned to him, and the sun is catching her hair in a flattering light. Autumnal colors of red, orange, burgundy, and wine dance around her crown in the form of spiraled locks, and the elf cannot help but admire the natural beauty bestowed upon the woman.

Her hair was a gorgeous tone, reminiscent of the warmth of a fire or a deep, satisfying vintage wine. But it wasn’t just Tav’s hair that was attractive… she really was quite striking. With the woman unaware of his presence, Astarion took a quick moment to admire the rippling muscles in her back and the strong, lithe arms she used to carry her greatsword.

No one with working eyes — or eye, perhaps, —  could deny that Tav was attractive. After all, there was a reason Astarion had chosen to proposition her over the others in the first place. 

But, sex or not, the woman certainly seemed to favor him, which meant more than once since their journey began, she’d sliced clean through an enemy at his back, and fed him servings of her own blood. 

So now, it was his turn to repay her somehow, some way. And if Tav didn’t accept his physical talents, well, then at least she would accept this. 

“Hello, darling,” Astarion calls, causing the woman to turn and acknowledge him with a small smile and wave. He quickly places his bathing kit on the river bank and undresses to just his briefs before tentatively placing a foot in the water. It was warm enough to be tolerable, so the rogue shrugged and grabbed his wooden comb and conditioner before sinking into the water and wading toward his campmate. 

“Alright, now, get down into the water,” The elf directs as he shakes the small bottle of conditioner in his hands, prepping the contents.

“But I thought you said I’m not supposed to wash my hair every–” Tav begins, eyebrows furrowed in confusion as she eyes the bottle, before the displeased glare from Astarion causes the question to die on her lips. 

“Do you want my help, or do you want to continue to look like a sheep desperately in need of shearing, darling?” Astarion asks with a soft sigh as he pops the top of the bottle open and gives it a whiff, “Just bend down and trust me. Oh and here, hold these for a moment.”

Tav grabs the comb and bottle she’s offered and then does what she’s asked. When she’s shoulder-deep in the water, she feels Astarion’s hand guiding her to tip her head back. She follows the directive and is soon greeted by the vision of Astarion’s face hovering above hers, scarlet eyes intensely concentrated as he drags his hand through her curls.

“Your hair texture is a bit different from mine…” He muses idly, as he works to fully saturate the thick locks of hair on his companion’s head with water, “But this conditioner should work, for now. We’ll have to find something better suited to you, when the opportunity allows.” 

Astarion takes the comb from Tav’s hand without a word and uses the tool and his own fingers to work out some of the ever-present knots in the woman’s hair. She watches him for a moment before closing her eyes and simply allowing Astarion to work at the task. Before long, the elf is gently guiding her head back up, into a straight position, and trading the comb for the bottle.

“Close your eyes,” He directs, and Tav obliges again as the vampire places a generous amount of rosemary-scented conditioner in his hand. Then he gives the bottle back to Tav, rubs his hands together, and begins to work the creamy liquid through her hair, starting at the ends and slowly wandering up toward her scalp. About midway through he’s reaching for the bottle again, “Who knew your hair was this thick? You’re about to use up all of my favorite conditioner, darling.” 

Tav frowns slightly at this comment, trying to turn and face Astarion before he quickly redirects her head with a soft click of his tongue, “I’m sorry… I can buy you more when we run into our next merchant.”

“Oh, it’s no matter. I stole this bottle anyway– I’m sure I can steal another along the way,” Astarion says with a slight dismissive flip of his hand, “Besides, I think you need it far more than I do, right now.” 

His fingers trail up to the crown of her head as he speaks, and Tav’s eyes flutter closed once again as Astarion begins to massage the product into her roots. He moves in sections, parting her hair every few inches and attentively working the conditioner into her scalp. The sensation was quite enjoyable; if the water were a bit warmer, Tav might have fallen asleep under Astarion’s gentle, methodical touch. 

Far too quickly for her liking, Astarion completes the task and gently pats her shoulder to signal he’s done for now. He grabs his comb and what little remains of his favorite hair product from the woman. 

“You need to let that sit for a few minutes, at least, little sheep.” Astarion directs before wading back to the river bank and dropping his supplies with the rest of his things. Tav watches as he grabs his own bar of soap and begins to bathe himself.

“How did you learn about all this?” The woman calls to the rogue as she wades through the water, mostly for something to do as she waits. 

Astarion hums as he considers the question; there is a pause in the conversation as he drops his bar of soap back along the bank and uses his hand to rinse the soapy remnants along his body. Tav cannot help but follow his fingers as they graze along his chest and arms, dispersing droplets of water that drizzle down the lines of his abs and back into the river. 

“I wish I could tell you how I learned, but I can’t recall…” He murmurs, his voice sounding a bit far away as he thinks, “It feels like something ingrained in me like speaking Elvish or the ability to read, for instance; someone must have taught me… I suppose one of my parents, or someone else in my family.”

A small look of sadness flits across Tav’s face but she quickly hides it before her companion notices, knowing that Astarion will balk at anything resembling pity. She often forgets how little memory he has of his past before Cazador, how much he’d endured until now, and how much of himself he’d lost in the process of it all. He was so good at pretending to be normal and happy-go-lucky… but then, they were quite alike in that aspect, weren’t they? It was easier to be the unbothered goofball than to be anything that resembled fragility, wasn’t it? 

Tav chooses to not respond to his answer, knowing nothing she says can truly make his situation better, and instead grabs a conditioner-covered curl, “Can I rinse this now?” 

Astarion nods as he climbs out of the water and begins gathering his own things, “Yes, go rinse it out – make sure there’s none of that left in your hair, and then come find me back at camp for the next part. I’m going back — it’s growing a bit cold.”

“Next part?” Tav responds with a soft whine, watching as Astarion towels himself off, “There’s more?”

“Darling, if you want your hair to look even close to as good as mine, there is a lot of work involved. Now hurry up, so we can be done before Gale is ready to feed you whatever disastrous concoction he’s made tonight,” Astarion says, his tone a bit joking as he begins slipping into a new set of camp clothes.

The woman groans and obeys the rogue’s directions, turning away as Astarion strips off his undergarments to replace them with new ones, and wading once again toward the deeper water. Tav dunks herself down into the river and begins running her fingers through spirals of hair, massaging out any slippery residue she finds along the way. With the amount of hair she had, it took several minutes, and by the time she was finished, Astarion was already gone. The sun was just beginning to kiss the earth in its descent toward night.

Tav quickly toweled herself off and dressed. Then she wrapped her hair up in the towel, twisting it around her locks in a turban-like fashion before collecting her belongings and making the short journey back to camp.

*

“There you are, darling,” Astarion calls as he catches sight of Tav, before patting a stump near his tent, “Come over here so I can finish defining your curls.” 

Tav furrows her eyebrows in confusion, because she has no idea what Astarion means, but she’s learned to simply shut up and go along with whatever he says for this entire endeavor. As she comes closer, she notices the elf has laid out even more supplies for her hair.

Did it really require all of this?

She sighs and takes a seat. Astarion immediately sets to work, placing a dollop of some sort of creamy pomade-like mixture in his hand and working it through her hair again. After that, he begins sectioning her hair into pieces, directing Tav every once and a while to hold this or that piece as he combs through her locks. 

“Ouch–” Tav hisses as the elf seems to be pulling at the base of her scalp. She moves to jerk away and Astarion huffs impatiently behind her, one of his hands coming to press against her forehead and prevent her movements. 

“Darling, for gods sakes, hold still.There isn’t beauty without a bit of pain, and honestly, for such a warrior, you’re being a wimp,” he chastises before continuing on with the task.

“What are you doing?” Tav asks through a sharp intake of breath, scrunching her eyes closed as she tries to endure the uncomfortable sensation of her hair being repeatedly tugged at the root. 

“Defining your curls, dear. I’m twisting them around my finger, see?” Astarion responds before coming in front of her and pulling a piece so he can demonstrate the process. Tav watches with a mixture of interest and confusion as he continues, “This will help all your curls to look more uniform. But seeing as you’ve done very little to your hair in all this time, I suppose it would make sense that you’re a bit tender-headed. I promise I am trying to be gentle.” 

Tav grimaces as Astarion continues his task, letting out little squeaks of pain that the rogue pointedly ignores. Eventually, Karlach comes over to return the whetstone she borrowed. The tiefling lingers to chat, which distracts Tav just enough to mostly forget about the pain in her scalp. When Astarion announces he’s done, the woman is genuinely surprised and moves to touch her hair; she is met with a quick swat from the elf.

“Ah-ah!” He admonishes before grabbing a bottle and spraying her hair with another rosemary scented product, “You can’t touch it until it’s completely dry.” 

“Why the hell not?” Tav groans again, suddenly growing impatient. Her stomach growls, and she sighs as she realizes she is also growing hangry. 

“You’ll undo all my hard work! Just wait.” Astarion responds as he stows away all his beauty products, “And anyway, it looks like Gale is just about done with dinner. We can go sit by the fire as you eat and that will dry your hair faster.”

*

Dinner was… acceptable. Gale did the best he could with the two rabbits Astarion hunted that morning, a handful of potatoes, one onion, and a couple of carrots. They did not have the luxury of seasonings most of the time, so it was quite typical for the nightly stews to taste gamey… tonight was no exception. 

Astarion takes a few drinks from Tav’s wrist after she finishes dinner. Once he retracts his fangs from her flesh, he lifts his hand to gently feel her curls. After a moment assessing his creation, he grins at the woman and says, “They’re finally dry, darling. Took long enough, hm? Now, let’s get you in front of a mirror so you can see my masterpiece.” 

Tav is flabbergasted by what she sees in the mirror. For the first time in… well, ever, her hair looks like it belongs to one of the beautiful maidens in an oil painting. Her hand comes up to gently touch the soft, spiraled locks and confirm that this perfect head of hair is, in fact, on her head and not somebody else's. 

“What do you think?” Astarion prompts, his voice containing the smallest bits of apprehension as he lifts a hand to fuss with Tav’s hair, placing it just so.

“It’s great,” Tav responds, her face breaking into a wide smile that causes the tension in Astarion’s shoulders to dissipate, “Thank you… really.” 

Astarion smiles and nods, suddenly unsure how to respond to the genuine gratitude in Tav’s voice. So instead he chuckles a bit and rolls his eyes before saying, “What on earth would you do without me?”

“Continue to look like a sheep in need of shearing, I guess,” Tav jokes, sticking her tongue out as she gently bumps her elbow into Astarion’s rib in jest, “That was mean, by the way.”

“I prefer honest, darling,” Astarion quips with a small chuckle, his fingers still fussing with the woman’s curls, “And anyway, you no longer look like a little sheep. You look beautiful.” 

Tav is not used to being called beautiful. Strong or brave, perhaps, but beautiful… never. Until now. The compliment catches her off guard and her eyes widen for just a moment. The elf notices her shock and his brows crinkle as he pauses the primping to analyze the woman’s face. 

“Certainly you know you’re beautiful…” The rogue continues, his hands starting to work at the curls again, “I’m sure I’m not the only–”

Astarion trails off when Tav shakes her head from side to side as her face begins to blush, the shade of her skin suddenly resembling the shade of her hair. Her voice is quiet, and crackling with a bit of emotion as she says, “No one says that. They just call me strong, or brave… or fierce.”

The elf tilts his head to the side as his eyes roam across Tav’s face once again. How interesting, he thought, to be lauded for things apart from your beauty. He’d never experienced such a thing, himself… though he thinks he would like to. But it almost appeared as if Tav had the reverse experience to his. 

“Well… surely you can be strong and beautiful, hm?” Astarion asks with a raised eyebrow, trying once again to smooth out the awkwardness he felt creeping between them, though he didn’t exactly know why it often felt like that. He moves to affectionately tug another lock of Tav’s hair and smiles playfully, “And with hair like this, dear, no one can deny your beauty. It would be an insult to my skills, frankly.” 

Tav snorts a laugh at this, eliciting a genuine, fang-filled grin from the rogue. Then he produces a bandana from his pocket and flourishes it in front of the woman, “Now let’s get your hair wrapped up. I’m exhausted and I want to go to bed, but I will not allow you to ruin my masterpiece overnight with all your thrashing about in your bedroll. You’re quite noisy, you know? And you snore.”

“I do not!” Tav protests as Astarion clicks his tongue at her and shakes his head, all while bundling her curls into the bandana and deftly tying a knot to keep it all in place. 

“You’re a terrible liar, dear, I’m surprised your nose isn’t growing this instant,” The elf murmurs, his finger coming to affectionately boop the woman’s nose before he bids goodnight and wanders back to his tent for bed.

Tav rubs her own nose as she yawns and heads back to her own tent, on the other side of camp. She tucks herself into her bedroll and smiles as she stares up at the canvas ceiling of her shelter. Someone really said she was beautiful; a small giggle escapes her lips as she thinks about it. 

Before long, Tav falls asleep. And for the first time in a while, she sleeps peacefully, without any thrashing about or snoring. Perhaps it was because her hair – and her heart – were both impeccably well-taken care of tonight. 

[bonny-kookoo]

Jungkook:Sugar & Spice (Intro)

In which Jungkook really wants people to love you just as much as he does - or maybe not.

Tags/Warnings: Raccoon Hybrid!Reader x Idol!Jungkook, established relationship, opposites attract because I love that concept, are you tired of my hybrid stories yet because I'm not, fluff, romance, smut, jealous koo, slice of life, mild ddlg themes

Chapter length: short

Other content: Spoiled, Calm

━━━━━━━━━━.~°♡°~.━━━━━━━━━━━

"I forgot.." you mumble quietly, a little ashamed about your entire situation as you've just had to explain to your boyfriend that yes, you've just gotten your period, and yes- you've probably now stained his nice expensive little sofa in his studio.

"It's fine, see?" He mumbles before casually wiping the leather with a tissue before throwing it into the trashcan nearby. "Didn't even stain at all. Do you wanna go change?" He asks casually, looking at you - before he clicks his tongue, the clear waters in your eyes a telltale sign of your typically emotional reaction to things like these. "Come here, crybaby, everything's fine!" He laughs a little, letting you cling onto him as you hide in embarrassment.

"I don't feel good." You whine into his chest, and he chuckles.

"I know baby." He says, as he pats your head. "You wanna go wash up?"

"But I don't have anything to change.." you complain, now getting even more frustrated.

"Bullshit. I've got your pyjama pants here somewhere-" He says, parting from you to search for the clothing item before he crawls.. underneath his desk?

"What're you doing, Kookie?" You giggle a little, watching him pull out a simple black canvas bag that he opens the zipper of.

"Excuse me? You think after what- 4 years I wouldn't be prepared for shit like this?" He proudly claims, before holding up one of your period-slash-heat pull ups- something you've been horrified of telling him about the first two years of your relationship with him, too fearful of how he might react to it. But you've learned soon enough that while Jungkook does sometimes get a little mean in his fun with others around him, he's not a bad guy at all. He's just a bit clumsy at times.

"Why do you have them here?" You whine, grabbing after the pair he's got in his hand.

"Why not?" He shrugs. "Your heats can start random as shit, and your periods are even worse. Better safe than sorry." He simply answers, closing the bag and shoving it back underneath the desk. "Now go change, I'll prepare the couch so you can nap." He jokes, smacking your thigh as you get up to follow his word.

Pulling out a blanket, he puts everything he knows you'll appreciate where he thinks it'll be good, before he checks his phone.

Only recently, he's gone public. While fans knew you existed, they didn't know much about you, nor that you and Jungkook weren't just platonic but a genuine relationship. And while he'd been prepared for what surely was to come, he'd been surprised by the welcoming reaction of the fans, many already expecting it and others defending that he's a person who deserves a private life.

And so, he's been more open with you, company even allowing you to now be seen in behind the scenes footage, and even publishing professional photos from backstage of you. People became pretty much just as charmed as he himself had been years ago- happily accepting you as a part of it all now, and he couldn't have been luckier.

But at the same time, he starts feeling just a little upset at the comments some fans keep repeating.

"She's so cute, I wish I had a hybrid like her!"

"Honestly though, if hybrids were allowed to be idols, she'd definitely be the visual of the generation!"

"She kind of seems almost too nice for Jungkookie~!"

"You think she ever feels lonely at home? I mean, he's at work all the time.."

"Jungkookie?" You ask, and he snaps his head up from his phone, boiling emotions quickly forgotten at the sight of you holding your fluffy striped tail in your hands. "Can you take a nap with me?" You wonder quietly, and he internally swells with pride.

"Of course, baby bear." He chuckles before joining you on the couch, holding you close and tightly just how he knows you like it. Does he leave you alone too much? Do you feel lonely sometimes? He's interested in the answer, but scared of it just as much- so he won't ask the questions. He'll just hold you, love you, and care for you.

Because the love you have is special, and nothing will break you both apart. Not time, not work, and for sure, not his career.

Hopefully.

☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆

[mercurygray]

i would like to request miss cordelia + 13 from the nosebleedclub list if you don't mind!!

This was a really good one, Kind Anonymous Friend! I had this idea for Bucky and Cord and decided I think it's just going to stand on its own for now.

Fair warning: It's a little spicy.

13. the state of your heart.

She could see the flares well enough from the tower as they came in, wings shot to pieces, engines smoking, red flare after red flare, wounded aboard, wounded aboard, wounded aboard.

Captain Brennan's girls would have their work cut out for them today.

It was easy enough to kick around outside the Interrogation hut, waiting outside for news but really only waiting for Bucky. Brennan had said once that she could come, if she liked, but Interrogation seemed like a door she could not - should not - cross behind. That room was where the day dwelt, and where it was supposed to stay. One by one they all emerged, grim angels still in need of comfort, and behind them all came Bucky, somehow taller and grimmer than them all, shoulders set against it like he was supposed to carry the whole war by himself.

Cord took a deep breath, tried to smile. Come on, then, Atlas - carry me instead.

There was a slash on his cheek from something that might have been shrapnel, and ragged edges on his face from where his mask had cut into his face. Doc Stover would probably want him in the infirmary, but he wouldn't go - not until he'd finished other business first.

"C'mere," he said, making a grab for her hand, one arm full of his kit bag and the other full of her, unafraid of anything.

The packing sheds were deserted at this time of day, the crews already done with the equipment from today's run, tomorrow's crew not due to start for hours yet. Plenty of walls that would hide them now and tell no tales after.

No sooner had the door shut then he had dropped his bag and pressed her up against the wall, lips hard and insistent on her own, his sheepskin seeming to enfold the both of them inside it, his hips grinding up against her own. His body was doing the speaking his tongue no longer had words for, and she left her own words aside, too, to let his hands fill with her hips, the curve of her pants, the swell, underneath her own jacket, of breast and brassiere. She could feel him getting hard against his flight suit, and he stepped to the side, his feet bracketing her own, so that he could rub himself against her, mumbling pleasure into her mouth until he could take no more, and fell back a little, panting, and looked down at her with expectant, sad eyes and a smile that didn't quite reach. She tried to smile back and brushed a curl off his face. She always wanted to ask how it had been, but it was useless - he was only like this when it was worse than he wanted to say. If he wanted to lose himself in something, she would let it be her. At least then she would know where he was.

She kissed his cheeks, the bridge of his nose, and laid his hand back on her left breast, letting him squeeze for a moment, and the two of them stood together, breathing, returning. You are alive, and I am alive, and we are alive here now together.

Finally he spoke, quieter now, his heart less fierce. "Hey, gorgeous."

She smiled. "Hello, handsome." She traced the wound on his face. "You should go see the doc."

He tried to shrug it off, hands slipping down to her waist, thumbs stroking at her hips. "Wanted to take my other medicine first," he murmured. "Look at the state of us," he said, half-guilty and bashful, like he didn't know what he'd done, or how he'd done it. Her shirt was wrinkled and her tie was all wrong, and his flight suit was a damn mess. "You ought to stop me."

Stop you why? The question pulsed in her throat like a live coal. How can I care about that when there's the state of your heart?

-

if you like Cord here, you can read more of her here on tumblr in her tag.

[hypnoneghoul]

Brilliant Mind

WC: 1,2K

Pairing: Rain/Swiss

Tags: Implied autistic Rain, non-binary they/them Rain, anal sex

Rain goes on a ramble about basses while Swiss fucks them. That's the plot.

Read under the cut or on AO3.

“Where’s your head at?” Swiss asked, seeing the absent look in Rain’s eyes, a different one than the one he knows means the water ghoul is far gone in pleasure. They blink at Swiss’ words, shaking themself out of it.

“Just thinking ‘bout something,” they shrugged, way too casual for being impaled on the multi ghoul’s cock.

“About what, Rainbow?” Swiss asked, grinning and resuming his thrusts. That was his mistake.

“I talked with my tech about- ah, basses for the next tour earlier,” Rain started, only a quiet moan interrupting their words for a second.

“You are thinking about basses while I’m fucking you?” the multi ghoul asked, a bit in disbelief, but also with a nauseating amount of affection for his extremely adorable mate.

“Well, yeah,” Rain shrugged, again, “I won’t use the same ones I used now, you know, the white Jazz, black Jazz and black and white Jaguar.”

Swiss just stared down at his partner with wide eyes, absolutely not believing that Rain will go on a rant about basses with a cock up their ass. They didn’t tell him to stop, though, and he did love hearing them talk, so the multi ghoul continued to slowly thrust into them.

“Leaving Jazz, I think, I don't like Precision too much and Jaguar is just… meh. About the colours, I think I’ll stay with the black Jazz for the songs we’ve got in drop C, you know, because it’s fine and it’s a signature by now. But for the rest, I don’t know, the white one was a good balance, because Aether has black Fantomen and Dew black and white. But now Dew will have a whole white Stratocaster, so maybe if I had a black and white bass it would be better? What do you think?”

“I- uh, I think so too, every guitar slash bass in different colours, yeah,” Swiss breathed, not expecting Rain would ask him about anything. “By the way, can we switch positions, wanna ride me, Rainbow?”

“Sure,” the water ghoul agreed, again, way too casually considering the circumstances, and Swiss got to move them. When Rain was settled on the top, they started moving. 

And talking.

“I’m wondering about the fretboards too, what would look the best. Maple is great, but I feel like it’s too light, but there’s something with rosewood that makes me hate it, so I think I’d want ebony. But I don’t know if ebony would fit the black ad white bass, so maybe maple after all? But not the yellowish lacquered one, the softer one. I’ll probably have to try to put all the options together and choose, you know?”

“Y- yeah,” Swiss managed out, barely holding himself together at the display of Rain riding his cock in earnest while still rambling. It was hot, actually, their brain amazed the multi ghoul.

“I was thinking if still tucking my picks behind the pickguard is a good idea, or if taping them to the side like Dew does isn’t better, but that’ll work out later, I guess.” Rain threw their head back then, finally showing some signs of being affected by the cock in their ass. The water ghoul leaned back on their hands, switching their bouncing to a precise grind. “There’s also the strings, I was testing out some flat wounds and half round wounds the last few weeks, and I do like the half ones, the flat’s are too, hm, slippery, but I think I should use the same type of strings they did for the recording, right? So it sounds the same. But they also used Precision, and I won’t do that, so will the strings make such an awful difference if it's a different bass? I mean, the pickups are the same, so the bass itself doesn't make that much difference, plus I can switch the necks, I just don't like the Precision’s body, or more like the pickguard shape, so I still can get really close with the sound.”

Swiss was out of his mind, the drag of Rain’s walls over his cock maddening, his mate’s brain even more. He was so close he was sure if they said one more smart word he totally didn’t understand he’d burst.

“Maybe a higher gauge of the half round wound strings would make up for the lower gauge or fully round wound? I use 45’s to 100’s now, but I could go up to 50’s or even 55’s. I’ll have to test it, do you think Dew would help me? I like my tech but he just doesn’t keep up with what I’m saying.”

“Yeah, I- I wonder why, Rainbow. You’re so smart, it’s so hot, fuck,” Swiss moaned, squeezing his eyes shut.

“But do you think Dew would help me?” Rain asked, seemingly oblivious to the delicious agony their mate was currently enduring.

“S- sure, he would.”

“Great, I’ll ask him later,” they leaned forward again then, bracing their arms on Swiss’ chest, returning to urgent bounces, making the multi ghoul nearly pass out. 

“Hngh,” was all he could muster.

“You close?” Rain asked, so casually it hurt. Swiss nodded, whining. Loud.

“P- please, Rainbow,” he pleaded, shaky hands holding onto the water ghoul’s hips.

“What do you need, love?”

“Talk,” he moaned, “a- and move, l- like that.”

Rain giggled, but obliged, “I could use thicker picks too, they’d give me a rougher sound, more concrete. Combining all that, mixing the elements, I could get so many different tones, there’s just so many possibilities. Add effect pedals to it, and they’re basically unlimited. If I could play fingerstyle, too, that’d make a difference. Maybe I could convince Papa to let me play the new songs like that, or some of the softer basslines of the older ones, like Absolution or Deus. It depends on what stays on the setlist too, but you know how good I am with my fingers.”

Oh, and that made Swiss break. He moaned, long and high pitched, whole body spasming as he came, filling Rain with his cum. 

He did know, very well, how good they were with their fingers, thank you very much.

The water ghoul finally let themself go too, though Swiss doubted they did hold themself back from anything, as their mouth dropped in a silent moan, clenching on Swiss’ cock and painting his belly white. They panted, arms giving out as they plopped down onto the multi ghoul’s chest, nuzzling their face into the crook of his neck.

“Your brain is so hot, Rainbow,” Swiss breathed, slowly coming back into his own body. Rain only purred in response, curling themself tighter around their mate, not caring about the mess.

They both did get up, though, to clean up, getting back to cuddle after. Rain fell asleep before Swiss even fully settled. He took out his phone and was met with a message from Mountain, cringing at it.

M: Had fun?

S: I wasn’t that loud, come on.

M: You absolutely were. Plus we share a wall, so… What did Rain do to you this time?

S: They started rambling about basses [*]

M: Ha, they didn’t stop, tho, did they?

S: Nope, and it was fucking hot.

M: Be grateful they chose basses and not weird deep sea tentacle creatures.

S: U speaking from experience?

M: Yes. Don’t ask more questions.

That’s where their conversation cut off, leaving Swiss grinning, absolutely planning how to find out about Mountain’s own experience. For now, though, he dropped the phone and curled tighter around Rain, kissing their forehead. He’d kiss their brilliant mind too, if he could.

[tearfallpixie]

Trust and Love Side Chapter - Vinnys Stream

Tags: @nerdraging4point0 @thesazzb @synthetic-wasp-570 @circle-with-me @beaker1636 @itsjustemily @witchyweeb34 @agravemisstake @cookiesupplier @cncohshit @faceless-mirror @nonamessblog @yournecessaryevil @black-damask1999

@lyschko666 @vinyardmauro @skulliecadaver-blog @some-daniela @latenightmusiclover @rye14-blog1 @somewhere-diamond @Shilohrosechicken @abiomens @awkwardalex @rumoured-whispers @miss570

“Guys, guys. Think about it though, wouldn’t it make more sense for the solar eclipse to be the one where the moon reflects the light and the lunar be where the sun is behind?” Vinny exclaimed, arguing with his chat on stream. He had been having this conversation for the last 5 minutes while Ricky and Liv were out in the living room. They knew to give him his privacy while streaming so that there were no questions about why they were hanging around his place. However what the fans didn’t know was that he had a door to his room out of view of the camera so if they really needed him they had access to him.

“You guys are ridiculous. It makes more sense when the moon is the one in front for a lunar eclipse.” He huffed shaking his head. He heard the tell-tale signs of his door clicking open so he looked up to see Liv walking in. He cocked his head to ask if everything was ok. She shrugged and pointed to the living room and then slashed her neck with her thumb as if to say she was going to kill Rick. Vin casually covered his mouth to hide his grin and went back to focusing on his stream as she settled in his bed. He smiled softly as she laid there scrolling on her phone. He loved moments like these where she just hung out in the same room with him as he gamed. “What?” He asked, noticing a fan in the comments asking him if he was ok. “Oh, yeah. I’m fine. Just thinking. Forget about the moon and sun. I don’t care anymore.”

He continued playing Baldur’s Gate 3 while chatting with the audience for a while longer until he saw Ricky walk in with a giant smirk on his face. Vinny watched him carefully, now realizing that he and Liv were up to something, but he was only two hours into his promised 4 hour stream so he had to let it go for now. What he was not expecting was for Ricky to crawl into his bed and start filthily kissing Liv, tongue and all.

“Hang on guys. I’m going to go grab a drink. I’ll be right back.” He muted his mic and stepped off screen, crossing his arms over his chest. “What the fuck are you doing, assholes?” He snapped.

“Nothing Vin? We’re just kissing. Right Rick?” Liv giggled.

“Of course, baby girl. We wouldn’t dare risk distracting Vin from his stream.” Ricky purred, grinning at the drummer. Vinny was about to say something, but Rick cut him off. “Better go get a drink Vin. Don’t want to make your audience wait too long.” Vin growled and left the room before coming back with a can of sprite and glaring at the pair entangled on his bed. He went back on camera and clicked his mic on before sitting down.

“I’m back. Where were we?” He was able to get through another 15 minutes before he heard a barely audible gasp coming from his bed. He looked over to see that Ricks hand was up Livs shirt and was massaging her boob as his tongue dove deep into her mouth. Those fuckers. They were teasing him, and he couldn’t do shit about it because he couldn’t just abandon stream. He took a deep breath and tore his eyes away from the tantalizing sight. He shifted a little as his pants started getting tight from the sight of his boyfriend and girlfriend making out in front of his face. His eyes flicked back to them to see Rick dragging Liv into his lap and pulling her shirt over her head.

“Fuck.” Vin whispered as he stared at Livs beautiful chest being cupped ever so gently by a beautiful red lace bra. Ricky looked over and flicked his eyes to Vinny’s camera as if to stay ‘Pay attention’. Vinny turned back to his stream and sank in his chair to slightly block the two from his vision. He clicked to youtube and put on the Dracula flow video to help distract him but it was to no avail as Ricky unclasped Livs bra and sensually pulled it down her arms before taking one of her perky nipples into his mouth.

Vinny reached down to palm his growing hard on and to try to will it away somehow but seeing his girl so exposed and vulnerable prevented that. Ricky saw him focused on them and not his stream and smirked, licking a path from Livs nipple up to her neck where he started sucking and leaving purple bruises on the exposed skin. Vin saw Liv look at him through hooded eyes and mouth his name making him double over.

Vinny, you ok? You don’t look so hot

One of the subscriber messages spoke. Vinny sat up and looked at the screen with a sheepish grin.

“I’m ok. I think the long as fuck tour is catching up to me. I’m just a bit under the weather but I’m good enough to keep streaming.” He said. His eyes flicked over to Rick and Liv once more to see Ricky mouth ‘good boy’ to him, making him blush. He turned back to his computer and clicked off the video to go back to Baldur’s Gate where he attempted to woo his companion but failed miserably. “YOU GUYS TOLD ME TO SAY THE BLANKET!” He yelled at chat. To be honest he had only seen a couple messages saying it so its what he clicked that to get through the scene. He had wanted to get the character for his character, but his brain was very obviously somewhere else.

“I just want my character to have a good girl.” He complained, looking into Olivia’s eyes as he said that. He could feel her shudder from the words and smirked to himself. “I just want to find myself a good lil mama to take care of.” He saw Ricky roll his eyes and drop Liv on her back again before crawling down and pulling her lacy panties down her legs. Vinny leaned off screen and hissed. “Don’t you fucking dare.” He was just far enough away that it didn’t get picked up by the mic at all. Rick gave him an innocent smile as he propped up Olives leg and placed a gentle kiss to the inside of it. “Fuck you, dude.” He pouted, pulling back. He cracked open his can of sprite and took a sip to clear his salivating mouth as he watched Ricky leave bruise after bruise further into Liv’s thigh.

At that point Vinny gave up on gaming and just started playing different music and youtube videos to pretend to be watching. His eyes were 100% trained on the way Olivia was squirming and letting out airy gasps at Rickys kisses. He made halfhearted comments to keep the stream engaged but he was too far gone. He watched as the guitarist started licking at Liv’s entrance, his hand going to palm at his now extremely strained erection. He huffed and gave in, unbuttoning his pants to give himself a little relief.

“Dude this page knows what they are doing. They create absolute stupidity and it works because they get views.” He responded to a random comment. He clicked onto another video and looked back to see Rick licking into Liv like he was on death’s door and he was eating his last meal. Vinny watched as his beautiful girlfriend toppled over the edge of her climax and started to come down. He thought she always looked the most beautiful post orgasm, when she was short of breath and gasping for air.

Ricky helped Olivia slide her panties back up her legs and put a shirt over her naked torso which Vinny recognized as one of his grey shirts that was baggy on him, so it looked massive on her. He started to relax, thinking maybe they would leave and it would be done for but he was sorely mistaken. Rick whispered something in Livs ear while looking at him and he raised an eyebrow. The guitarist smirked and so did his sweet little angel and he got worried all over again. He watched as Liv crawled off the bed and under his desk so she was nestled sweetly between his legs. He glanced down to see her giving him her dangerous doe eyes and he silently pleaded with her not to do what he was thinking.

Unfortunately, his telepathic powers were for naught because next thing he knew he felt delicate little fingers tugging him out of his boxers and stroking him. He bit back a groan and glanced over at Rick who was leaning against his headboard with a smile. At this point he was not in a position where he could easily mute the stream and scold them so he just had to endure the delicious torture.

“My exhaustion is starting to get to me guys. I might have to cut this stream short. I’m so sorry.” He mumbled. He noticed Ricky move quickly to the door and then towards him. His eyes widened and he internally cussed him out, knowing what the asshole had planned.

“Hey Vin! Are you streaming?” Ricky asked loudly. He stepped into camera view and pulled up the extra chair Vinny had in his room.

“I didn’t know you were coming over.” Vinny tried to keep his voice cheerful.

“Your roommate let me in. I was in the area so I thought I would stop by.” Ricky smirked. “Hi chat! How is everyone?” As he asked that Vinny felt a wet appendage start caressing the underside of his member and he jerked a little.

“You ok there?” Ricky asked with a smile.

“Fine. Foot just fell asleep.” Vinny offered with a quiet voice. He was sure if he spoke too loudly a moan would escape him.

Ricky! Where is Olivia?

“Olivia? She’s … home enjoying some ice cream.” Ricky grinned viciously. Vinny groaned as there was a hum from the devil below him, sending vibrations up his dick.

“I guess I should go guys. Ricky must want to hang out.” Vinny tried but Ricky waved him off.

“I just got here! I don’t mind hanging out with your chat for a while.” Ricky said casually, patting him on his back.

“But i-its late. D-don’t you need to get home to Olive?” Vinny attempted one more time. He made a point to not call her Liv in public because that was a special nickname just for him and he wanted to cherish that.

“Not at all. I actually texted her before I walked in that I was going to hand out with you for a while.” Vinny cursed his quick thinking and dropped his head onto the arm that he didn’t realize was on the back of his chair. “You ok Vinny? You look a little pale.” Ricky asked in mock concern.

“Fine.” He gritted. “Tour exhaustion is just catching up to me.” He huffed as he felt lips slide half way down his member before pulling off again and repeating the process. “Fuck.” He practically whined.

“What’s wrong?”

“Just r-remembered I had to send out fan packages today but I didn’t.” He covered.

“You better get this exhaustion under control soon, Vin. We go on another tour in a week and we need you at peak performance.” Ricky teased him, moving a hand to his thigh and rubbing it slowly.

“Trust me. I think I-I’ll be fine.” He quickly switched the song to something a little noisier incase any unwanted sounds escaped his lips. He felt the brush of a tongue on the underside of his member before his eyes went wide, feeling the added addition of a piercing. He quickly looked over to Ricky who was grinning at him innocently. He grabbed Rickys hand and squeezed it, pleading for mercy as his climax rushed upon him. He gritted his teeth as Liv went back to suckling on his dick, making sure the piercing brushed his sensitive tip. When it felt like he was going to explode Ricky brushed his hand away from the mouse and quickly blinded his camera and muted his mic.

“Fuck!” Vinny snapped, pulling Ricky into a sloppy kiss as he released his climax down Olivia’s throat. He pulled away and dropped his head to the guitarists shoulder as he gasped heavily. When he opened his eyes and looked down at the devil between his legs, she was just smiling like a pleased puppy. “I hate you both.”

“No you don’t.” Ricky murmured, still smiling at him when he clicked the camera and mic back on. Vinny glance over and closed his youtube tab before expanding the view of him and Ricky to full screen. “I think we’re going to call it a night guys. Vinny is completely exhausted and needs to get some sleep. Sorry to cut the stream short.” They watched as the goodbyes poured in before waving and ending the stream.

“You guys are fucking assholes.” He muttered.

“Are you mad at me?” Liv asked with the biggest doe eyes he had ever seen.

“That’s bullying.” He pouted. Olivia slid up from under his desk and settled herself in his lap.

“Baby, I didn’t mean to upset you. I just wanted to make you feel as amazing as you make me feel.” She batted her eyelashes at him.

“Next time, not during my stream.” He scolded, wrapping his arms around her waist. “That goes for you too, dick.” He looked over at his boyfriend.

“You love my dick.” Ricky snickered.

“I love it in my mouth.” Vinny popped off making all three of them burst out laughing.

“I can arrange that.” Ricky threatened.

“Maybe later. First. I want to take advantage of my beautiful girlfriend that you sprawled out in front of me when I couldn’t do anything about it.” Vinny stood up with Liv still in his arms and threw her on the bed before dragging Ricky into another filthy kiss and falling back onto the bed with her.

[sweaterkittensahoy]

Hello!

Just saw your post about prompts… 👀

If you’re interested, I’ve been dying for a very particular Buck/Bucky fic, where, during the interrogation scene, the officer has Gale brought in to try and get answers out of Buck ✨

Im a sucker for the extreme angsty stuff, but other than that, I’ll leave the prompt broad and up to your interpretation!

Thank you! ♥️

(This went more "two Steve McQueens fight a couple nazis" and less "oh god why must I watch you be hurt" but I hope you enjoy! Personally, I think Buck's likely the shithouse crazy one of them when it comes down to it, and Bucky just tags along when it happens.)

[cw: blood mention]

After several minutes of going back and forth, the interrogator questioning and Bucky replying over and over with his name, rank, and serial number, the interrogator pauses, then says, "Well, let us try something else."

Bucky expects the man to stand up and threaten him. Instead, he pushes a button on his desk. There's a buzzing outside the office.

Bucky expects guards and guns, maybe a fight. He keeps his seat even as the door opens, ready to spring up if needed but trying to hold himself in check.

There's two sets of footsteps, and then Bucky looks to his left where they stop.

It's a guard, all right. And next to him, still in his uniform, is Buck. He's bruised and busted, though not as badly as Bucky. He's standing at ease, like he's not shocked to see Bucky.

But Buck looks not shocked to people who don't know him a lot of the time. Bucky, though, he can read that face like his favorite book. And Buck's face is stoic, but there's mayhem in his eyes.

"John Egan," Buck says, and Bucky leans forward, ready to go, "What took you so long?"

"Well, I had to come back from London, you know," Bucky replies. "Told you you should have come with."

"Maybe next time I will," Buck says. He licks the corner of his mouth where there's a spot of blood. He looks at the interrogator. "I suppose I'm here for a reason."

The interrogator smiles thinly. He rests on his desk and waves at the guard, who takes two steps back.

Stupid, Bucky thinks. Absolutely and fantastically stupid.

"Major Egan is not being forthcoming," the interrogator says. "And you have also not been forthcoming, Major Cleven."

"Attaboy," Bucky says in his most obnoxious drawl. It makes the interrogator glare at him. Perfect.

"If you think showing me Egan's alive is going to be make me cooperate with you, you're wrong," Buck says, cool as you please. He scratches his wrist. The guard behind him doesn't even twitch. Bucky catches the way Buck's hand doesn't fully uncurl when he drops it to his side again.

"What he said," Bucky adds.

"You Americans and your confidence," the interrogator says, looking like he wants to spit. "Always so certain you can't be stopped."

Bucky shrugs and slouches further in his chair. He finishes his cigarette, stares at the interrogator, and flicks the butt to the floor. The man's nostrils flare. "Buck, when we're out of here, I'm taking you dancing."

"You can try," Buck says, and Bucky moves at the same moment Buck does, grabbing the interrogator by the throat and snatching the letter opener off of the desk. He stabs him through the jugular, holding him up as he bleeds all over his pristine uniform.

He lays the interrogator on the floor and glances at Bucky. The guard's down, too. His neck slashed clean across. There's a razor blade with fabric wrapped around the dull side next to him.

"How'd you get a razor blade?" Bucky asks as he takes the interrogator's gun and knife and searches through his pockets. He finds money and a gold watch.

"They made me scrub their bathrooms," Buck says. "I think it was meant to emasculate me. I found it in the wastebasket."

"They didn't search you?" Bucky asks. He walks to the door and presses his ear to it. There's no noise outside.

"They're undisciplined," Buck says. "Not lazy or dumb, but undisciplined."

Bucky reads between the lines. It won't be easy or simple to get out of here, but the men here won't be expecting a fight. "It's quiet out there," he says.

Buck walks up next to Bucky and hands him a box of ammunition. He tucks two folders into his jacket, then tucks another two into Bucky's. They all have a large stamp on the front that seems to imply importance. "Where's your sheepskin?"

"Traded it out," Bucky says. "You hated it."

Buck stares at him for a moment, then pulls him in and kisses him. "You ever fly without it again, I'll shoot you down myself."

Bucky kisses back. "I'm telling Marge you paused my heroic rescue to kiss me like a bad movie."

"I'm telling Marge you were dumb enough to get captured," Buck replies. He pulls Bucky into a quick hug that Bucky happily returns. "Ready?" Buck asks, holding up the knife he's stolen. His gun's tucked into his waistband so he can grab the doorknob.

Bucky stands behind him, the knife in his right, the gun in his left. The box of ammunition in his pocket makes him feel lucky. The sharp concentration and determination in Buck's eyes makes him feel sure. "Let's get the hell out of here."

[darkwing-katy]

The Spider and the Fly Part I

Pairing: Eventual Leland x Reader (sorta? You’ll see what I mean)

Word Count: 2,527

Summary: All you want to do is get through your online courses and keep your best friend from making bad choices in men. But there’s this creepy therapist who is absolutely insisting on you making an appointment with him. Who the hell is this Leland Townsend, and why won’t he leave you alone?!

Part one of seven. Takes place sometime around seasons one and two.

This series is inspired heavily by my favorite poem, “The Spider and the Fly” (1829) by Mary Howitt. This poem is in the public domain.

Tagging: @primosflowergarden

————————————————————————————————————-

“Will you walk into my parlor?” said the Spider to the Fly

“‘Tis the prettiest little parlor that ever you did spy.

The way into my parlor is up a winding stair,

And I have many curious things to show you when you are there.”

You take a casual sip of (your favorite coffee drink) and raise your eyebrows at Betty. “Look, this is, what, the fourth time that he’s stood you up?” 

She nods, her blonde hair whooshing in her ponytail as her head bobs up and down. “Yeah,” she confirms as she takes a sip of her strawberry hibiscus drink. 

“Four times is too many times. Three times is too many times. Honestly, two times is pushing it, unless there’s a legitimate reason for it, and even then, I’d be pretty damn wary.” You swirl your drink around, careful not to spill it. “If you ask me, you should be ruining his life right about now.”

Betty rolls her eyes. “I’m not like you, (Y/N),” she replies. “I’m not petty.”

You scoff. “Petty? I’m not petty! I just make sure that people who fuck me over get a little fucked over themselves.” You take another short sip. “If it were me, I’d start following our lord and savior Taylor Swift and pull some vigilante shit.”

“You don’t even know if there’s a reason for it! What if he’s got a valid reason—like his mom died or his dog got hit by a car or he got COVID?”

“Does he even have a dog?” you wonder. Betty shrugs, and you sigh as you fix your eyes on your friend. “You see too much good in everyone, Betty. Sure, there can be valid reasons to stand someone up, but not four times in a row, and especially not without giving you a heads up of some kind.” You smirk as you remember what you did to Talison—not that Betty knows how far you’d gone. It had been mostly harmless, at least. 

For you.

“You should do some research. Figure out if there’s a subreddit on them or something. The internet is a wondrous place, you know.” You shift in your chair, setting your drink down and leaning forward on your elbows. “And then, if you find out anything suspicious, I say you take a page outta tumblr and slash three of his tires. Allegedly, if you slash three instead of all four, insurance won’t cover it. Not,” you quickly add, “that I’ve ever put that to the test.”

Betty didn’t know about that time with Matt, either.

Betty rolls her eyes and stands. “You’re a psycho. I gotta pee, and then I’m gonna order me a sandwich. You want anything to eat?”

“I mean, I’m always down for a croissant,” you reply. 

Betty nods and walks off in the direction of the bathroom. You lean back and drink some more of your drink as you study the people around you. The coffee shop is only half-full, but it’s still busy with couples and friends chatting. You skim around the tables for anything interesting, anything worthy of your attention. There’s a few teenagers giggling as they swipe up and down with their phones; a shrimpy-looking teenaged boy making doe-eyes at them; a few college kids on their laptops, along with some businesspeople. Fortunately, no one is talking overly loud—you hate when people do that in shared spaces.

A man sits across from you on his laptop. He’s kinda cute, and you let your eyes trace over his face as he types, unaware of the fact that you’re watching him. You think you might want to say something to him when your eyes catch a glint on his left hand—a simple gold band—a wedding ring. “Guess not,” you mutter under your breath. 

“I couldn’t help overhearing,” a voice starts, distracting you from the cute married man. You snap your head to Betty’s chair, where a man is standing, one hand wrapped around the top of the chair. He’s handsome, sure, if a little older than your usual tastes.

The man is tilting his head at you, a friendly smile on his face. “It sounds like your friend is having boy troubles,” he continues.

You’re a bit perturbed that he’s been nosy enough to overhear the conversation, let alone comment on it. Even if he’s attractive. “Pretty sure that’s not your business, buddy,” you reply, pursing your lips.

He chuckles. “It’s not, but I’m curious, and I think I could also be of some assistance.” He nods his head at the chair. “May I?”

“Nope,” you say, but he ignores you and sits down. 

You gotta admire the guy’s boldness, even if it’s tempting you to toss your drink in his face. From the way he’s tilting his head at you and narrowing his eyes ever-so-slightly, he half-expects you to react aggressively, so you swallow your anger and settle for cool observation instead. He fixes his eyes on you as he sets his arms on the table, the very picture of two old friends getting together to chat. “So. Boy troubles?”

You eyeball his outfit. It’s business casual, a tweed suit, and he’s got glasses that are half-black, half-tan framing his eyes, which are a deep blue that you haven’t seen on anyone else before. His hair is short and brown. As you study him, you think to yourself again that he’s pretty nice to look at. “Why do you care?” you ask.

He flashes you a disarming smile that shows all of his teeth. “I’m a therapist, actually. I hear stories like your friend’s all the time, and I just thought I could…help out. Maybe give you some advice to give her.” He folds his hands together and sets his chin on them, propping his head up like you’re sharing the hottest gossip with each other.

Well, that’s even more disturbing—he’s a therapist and he’s just butting into your and Betty’s lives? Must not be a great therapist, then, if he’s not respecting boundaries.

Still, you can’t see the harm in sharing a few details, if only for the fun of it. “She’s been stood up by this dude a few times,” you say, careful to omit any descriptions. “And I’m simply advising her to ditch him. That’s all.”

The man gives you a thoughtful look as he blinks. “I swear I heard you mention slashing the guy’s tires,” he says, and you narrow your eyes at him.

“I merely mentioned it as a potential solution to impress upon this person that standing someone up four times in a row is not an acceptable form of behavior.”

“But encouraging others to slash tires is?”

Alright, fun’s up. This guy is getting annoying. “My friend’s gonna be back soon, and she’s gonna want her chair back,” you say as you cross your arms over your chest. “You should go.”

He shakes his head. “Nah, I can wait for her to get back. I’m on my coffee break right now.”

You feel your eyes narrow even further. He’s either not getting the hint, or he is and he’s choosing to deliberately ignore it. Either way, it’s greatly diminishing his attractiveness. Deep blue eyes do not excuse a shitty personality, no matter how pretty. “Look, buddy,” you say in a low voice as you lean forward. “I’m telling you to go away.”

“Or what? You’ll slash my tires?” There’s a strange gleam in his eyes, like he enjoys the idea of you doing that. It’s unsettling. A chill creeps up your arms. “What? Or maybe you’ve got something worse up your sleeves?” He raises both eyebrows, daring you. You hope he doesn’t notice the goosebumps prickling up your bare arms, but if you reach for your cardigan, he’ll definitely notice it if he hasn’t already.

You need to change strategies. It seems like you’re unable to intimidate him into leaving you the fuck alone, but luckily for you, pivoting is something you do well, so now it’s your turn to flash him a tense smile. “Alright. I’ll bite. What do you want?”

He blinks, almost like he hadn’t expected that response. “I’m sorry?”

You keep the smirk off of your face, but only just barely. It’s nice to have caught him off guard. You pick up your drink to maintain the illusion of friendliness. “You came over here asking about my friend’s boy probs. You say you’re a therapist. So then what do you want? Just to give me some…friendly advice?” You’re raising your eyebrows at him, a mirrored mockery of his earlier facial expression.

He presses his lips into a thin line as he studies you. You study him right back, unflinching as his eyes flick from your drink to your face. You make a point of allowing your own eyes to rove over him. Give him a taste of his own medicine a bit, make him uncomfortable. He catches the way your lips are tilting into a smirk as you examine him, and now his eyes are the ones narrowing. “I want you to make an appointment with me,” he finally says.

You snort. “What the fuck, dude?” Where did that come from? First he acts like he wants to help you with Betty’s relationship problems, and all of a sudden he’s wanting you to make an appointment with him?

Good God, this man must be insane.

He doesn’t flinch at your exclamation, just patiently watches you. 

You shake your head at him. “You can’t be serious.”

His lips curl into a smirk of his own. “Oh, I am very serious,” he replies, and you feel another chill run down your spine that has nothing to do with the air conditioning. “I think we could do great things together.”

“The heck does that mean?”

He tilts his head. “Make the appointment and you’ll find out!” He sounds excited now, too happy for your tastes. You haven’t even agreed and he’s acting like you have.

Well, screw that. This screams creep, this screams psycho killer, this screams serial assaulter. There is no way in hell you’re gonna make an appointment with this dude.

But you can’t react that obviously. He’s already noticed your shift in body language—you can tell from the way his eyes glitter at you. All of the weird charm from earlier has gone. He knows that you want to run away from him, and he’s relishing it, the bastard. He expects you to flee. 

You set your jaw, grit your teeth, tilt your head. This guy is bad news, and Betty’s gonna be back anytime now. You need to get him away from her, away from you. The best way to deal with these types of guys is to play along, to give them an amicable smile and nod your pretty little head, so that’s what you do. “Alright, fine. If you leave now, then I’ll schedule an appointment with you, okay?” You give him the fakest smile you can muster and pray he can’t see through it.

His smirk widens into a toothy grin, and somehow you know that he’s seen right through you. He doesn’t care that you’re just saying it to get him away; he’s glad to have won this weird little battle between the two of you. With one swift movement, he rises from the chair and pulls out a small business card, back in charming gentleman mode. You accept the card without looking at it. If you’re lucky, you will never need to refer to it. This is all a ploy to get him out of sight, anyways.

But he’s extending a hand towards you and waiting. You’ve half a mind to ignore it, but that might signal to him that you’re faking everything, so you begrudgingly accept the handshake. His hand wraps around yours, nearly covers it completely, and you give it a firm squeeze in the hopes that he’ll let go quickly.

He doesn’t. He keeps his hand wrapped around yours and tightens his own grip. It’s teetering on the edge of painful, and he’s maintaining eye contact the entire fucking time. It’s a challenge, one that you’re unwilling to lose, so you lock your eyes with his and keep the forced smile plastered onto your face.

“Dr. Leland Townsend,” he says cheerfully.

“(Y/N),” you say, intentionally withholding your last name. He quirks an eyebrow at you to indicate that he’s noticed the omission, but you have no reason to elaborate. You know his name, he doesn’t need to know yours. There are dozens of people in New York who have the same name as you.

“You might not realize it, yet, (Y/N),” he says, “but this is gonna be the start of a beautiful partnership. I can feel it.” His thumb strokes your hand as he drawls out the word ‘feel’, and you bite your tongue to keep from shuddering. 

What a fucking creep.

“I’ll take your word for it, Doctor,” you reply, keeping that false friendliness in your tone. 

“I’ll see you around!” With that, he finally releases your hand, though not before giving it another not-quite-painless squeeze that kinda feels like some sort of warning. He flashes you another smile and saunters off. You track him, unwilling to let him out of your sight until he’s out the door. He reaches the door and pushes against it, though he does glance back at you, as if he’s expecting you to be watching him. He wiggles his fingers at you in the mockery of a wave, which you don’t return, and then he’s gone at last. You breathe a sigh of relief.

“What a fucking creep,” you repeat to yourself. 

“What was that?”

You spin around to see Betty approaching, a sandwich and a croissant squished together in one hand. She’s got another strawberry hibiscus drink in her other hand. If you weren’t so unsettled by the man—Dr. Townsend?—you’d roll your eyes at her.

“Nothing,” you lie. There’s no reason to tell her about this odd encounter. She’s got enough troubles to worry about.

You hastily shove the business card into your pocket. As you and Betty eat and continue to talk, you’re strangely aware of it burning a hole in your pocket. It’s hard to focus on her words, but you manage to make it work.

It occurs to you that maybe you should call the office and give them all false information. Dr. Townsend wouldn’t know, right? And then you don’t have to actually show up, and he doesn’t have anything to trace you with. It’d lull him into a false sense of security only to have the rug ripped out from beneath him.

You smirk to yourself. Yeah, that sounds like a fun little prank. It’s not like he’ll be able to find you and retaliate. 

You rub your sore hand with your other hand. Oh, yes. He thinks he can intimidate you? He’s gonna find out just how wrong he is.

“Oh no, no,” said the little Fly, “you ask me this in vain.

For who goes up your winding stair can ne’er come down again.”

————————————————

Part Two

[jake-whatthefisgoingon-kiszka]

Sorry this is so late, but Happy New Years here’s part 12! I hope you hate it as much as I do! Want to find out what’s happening? Start here in part 1.

Pairings: Sam Kiszka x Danny Wagner ***slash for 2024!

Warnings and tags: 18+ only!!!, slash ofc, sexual situations including oral (m receiving), slight masturbation, messy love triangles, lots of angst, third person POV Sam, Danny, and Jake, restaurant AU

Word count: 6k

Come on Danny pick up. Jake tried his number again when the first call eventually went to voicemail.

“Hello?” Danny answered with a slightly confused, slightly concerned tone in his voice.

“Hey, I’m sorry for calling like this”. Jake sounded a bit frantic on the other end, though whatever the matter was he still had the mind to apologize for calling out of the blue.

“No umm, it’s alright” Danny replied, looking over at Sam who was laid out on his bed, stark naked, hair still dripping wet, with an unamused look on his face. His brows were perched on the verge of an eye roll, mouthing ‘seriously’ to which Danny just shrugged. Sure it was bad timing to answer a phone call right now, but Jake never just called for nothing. “What’s up?”

“Kim is sick, she woke up this morning not feeling well. Thought she might get over it but now she’s running a high fever. We’re on our way to the hospital”.

“Oh no, Is she okay?” Surely she was fine, he’d seen her just last night. Although looking back on it she did seem a little lethargic and short fused, he hadn’t looked into it. He wished now he would have stopped and at least asked if she was alright.

Sam lost his attitude when he heard Danny’s voice turn more serious, wondering who it was he was asking about.

“She will be fine, just want to get her looked at. I’m sorry to ask, but do you think you could go in tonight to cover for her?”

Danny’s shoulders fell as he looked over at Sam again, waiting for him to give him any more clues about what was going on. “Yeah. I can do that, give me about fifteen minutes to get dressed and I’ll head over there”.

“Thanks, I owe you one”.

Danny hung up the phone and let out the long sigh he’d been holding in, then moved over to his closet to start getting ready.

“Where are you going?” Sam questioned, standing up off the bed and wrapping his arms around Danny’s waist in a feeble attempt to convince him to stay.

“Kim is sick, I’m going in to work to cover for her” he replied, pulling one of his black button ups out and tossing it onto his desk.

“Can’t anyone else go?” His arms tightened around him, pressing his now neglected erection into Danny’s hip with a purposeful whiny whimper. “What am I supposed to do about this?”

Danny’s lips pulled into a Cheshire grin. They were no longer going to get the night he envisioned, but he was not about to leave his lover high and dry.

“It will only take me five minutes to get dressed” he informed him, turning around in his arms and walking him backwards back to the bed. “Lay back down, you’ve got ten minutes to make this count”.

Sam wasn’t happy Danny had to go into work. Danny wasn’t exactly thrilled about it either, but he was at least pleased that he was trusted enough to be called in as Kim’s replacement.

Being Kim for the night proved to be a little more challenging than he’d expected though. It gave him more appreciation for her management style and how she was able to juggle helping with tables, answering a dozen and a half random questions at the drop of a hat, organizing the team and delegating tasks, all while being extra bright and friendly to the guests and staff alike.

Being the stand in dining room manager also meant he had to work side by side with the bar manager on duty tonight. Which of course was Savanna.

He didn’t expect much more than the bare minimum from her when he asked a couple of times for help, but when he got the cold shoulder the second time he decided at least having to figure it out by himself would be a learning experience.

Savanna ignoring him he understood, even felt like he deserved a little bit, but in the previous days this week Jake couldn’t seem to look him straight in the eye either. Let alone talk to him for more than a few short words here and there.

Danny wasn’t exactly sure what was getting to Jake, but he figured it must be something to do with the conversation they’d had in the garage back at his parents house. Jake was probably putting some distance between them which made sense, he only wished it didn’t feel like it had to be this way. That their friendship had to be kept within tight boundaries now otherwise toes might get stepped on.

Though all the extra time he spent with Sam was rewarding in more ways than one, he did miss hanging out with Jake. He was a cool guy, easy to be around, and he did always cook really good food when Danny came over.

Kim was the only one Danny still regularly met up with, though he figured their usual friend date this weekend would probably be canceled on account of her illness. Even then, she seemed a bit more reserved than usual during their brunches. By this point everyone in their circle knew of him and Sam dating, but still no one seemed to talk much about it very much. That made it feel even more like a dirty secret than it ever did before.

The one thing Danny wasn’t sure of was how much Jake had told Kim. Had he said anything to her about the two of them? They never really discussed what they were and were not comfortable talking about after everything all went down. Danny did prefer that only their very close friends know, if necessary at all, though he wouldn’t deny Jake his freedom to tell who he wanted his own history.

The more he thought about it, the more he considered Kim knowing everything would actually be a relief. He couldn’t exactly talk to Sam about these pent up feelings for missing Jake. No, Sam wouldn’t take that lightly. For some reason, telling Jake he missed him sounded a little too far out of line as well. Being able to talk to Kim about the mess in his head might actually help clear some things up for him.

They closed later than usual, having gotten behind during the chaos that was their dinner rush. Danny still felt good about all he did manage to accomplish tonight though, considering it was his first time closing solo without Jake or Kim guiding him.

He checked his phone for the first time in hours after climbing tiredly into his driver's seat. A few texts from Sam asking him how it was going, then about an hour later a text that said ‘guess you’re busy, goodnight’.

His heart clenched a little bit. He probably could have taken a quick break and slipped into the manager's office to text him back. If he had done that though, he might have said something in the moment about Savanna out of frustration.

Sam and her seemed to still be getting along well while at work. Danny tried not to let it bother him. He trusted Sam. Though he didn’t exactly believe she was just going to back down quietly after trying to get him back once already.

Just before he was about to start the car and head home another text came through, a text from Jake.

Thanks again for covering for Kim tonight. We got back from the hospital about a couple of hours ago. She has a really bad case of the flu but she’s medicated now and has been sleeping it off

1:03AM

He stared at the dim screen for a few minutes, debating on how to reply, before just hitting the contact and giving him a call. It rang only a couple of times before Jake answered quietly.

“Hello? Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, everything’s fine, just closed up. Wanted to call and check on you”.

Danny squeezed his eyes shut and let his head fall to the window with a muffled thump of his hair against the glass. Check on you? Jesus, could he be any more obvious? Kim was the one who was sick, he should be more concerned with how she’s doing.

“Oh, yeah I’m alright. Kim tried to fight me about going to the hospital at first so I tried my best to take care of her all day. Finally got to the point where I had to put my foot down and nearly carry her to the car”. He chuckled a little bit on the other end of the phone and Danny felt immediately relieved.

Jake really cared about Kim which made him extremely grateful that two of the most important people in his life right now were finding comfort and solace in each other. Everything should've been perfect by this point, what with him and Sam and Jake and Kim being together, but Danny couldn’t deny that something still felt off.

A silence fell between them while Danny attempted to collect himself. He was tired, drained both physically and mentally, and the jumbled twist of emotions within him were finally starting to take their toll. Digging their roots deep into the seams of his skull until he could feel them starting to crack the bone apart.

“Hey, can I ask you something?” Danny questioned with his temple and shoulder still slumped against the door. Jake replied with a simple hum of his own raspy tired voice. “Do you ever wish that you loved me?”

The words came rolling out before he could stop and think about rephrasing them, or maybe even keeping them locked away like many of the other trifling thoughts he’d had.

Jake didn’t seem caught up by the question though, bursting out into a cute little fit of laughter that he tried to stifle quickly. He was probably still nearby Kim and didn’t want to wake her. “What? I do love you Danny”.

Danny’s blood ran warm. Like it did when he’d had one too many drinks, or when the right pull off a joint finally hit him.

“And Josh loves you, and Kim loves you, and Sammy loves you, we all do”.

Of course Jake wouldn’t think of answering that question any other way. Danny wasn’t even sure why he’d asked it in the first place. Perhaps other than his own selfish desire to please everyone to the point that he’d started to lose exactly who he was without the constant reassurance that he was loved by others.

He forced a chuckle to attempt to match Jake’s tone, like that’s exactly what he’d meant by that question. “You’re right, thanks for reminding me”.

“Thanks for checking in. I’ll talk to you later okay?”

“Of course, goodnight Jake”.

“Goodnight Dan”.

Jake let out a shaky breath when he heard the line go silent. Danny’s question rattled him.

What was he supposed to say? No? Jake knew all too well the sting of that simple word.

What if he were to tell the truth though? He never could. Not for Sam’s sake, he was already on thin ice with his brother in regards to Danny. And certainly not for Danny’s sake.

What good would it do anyone to dredge up feelings that had been washed away. Carried out to sea like tiny grains of sand from a beach somewhere far away.

He peaked back through the crack of his bedroom door, from the hallway where he’d hurried off to answer Danny’s phone call. Kim slept soundly, no doubt in a steroid induced slumber from all the meds they’d pumped her full of at the hospital. She was dehydrated, despite all the fluids he’d tried to persuade her with before he made the decision to take her.

Despite the day he’d had Jake wasn’t quite ready to go to bed just yet, but he didn’t want to bother Kim so he left the door cracked open and went downstairs.

After boiling some water, he poured it over a random tea bag from a stash he’d found Josh had left high up in the pantry. He took a sip of the hot herbal liquid and exhaled, it was pretty good, Josh always had excellent taste.

Jake sat down on his couch and picked up the remote as he continued to sip on his tea, flipping through the list of movies on the TV until he stopped at one that looked familiar though he couldn’t remember exactly what it was about. He selected the movie and saw that he had already watched it at some point. He hit play from beginning and sat back into the couch, watching intently as the flashing images started to make sense. He had watched this movie before, well at least started it before Danny came over and they… yeah he didn’t really watch the movie.

Deciding to give it a shot this time he watched until he finished his drink, getting up to place the mug in the sink before returning to lay on the couch.

Jake stared at the TV, but his head was filled with anything but the movie. One of his arms raised up to the back of the couch and he gripped the frame, feeling and remembering the way he’d gripped so tightly onto it that evening. Before he could think about what he was doing, his other hand came to rest high on his thigh and his breath started to pick up.

He didn’t remember what had happened in the movie, but his body remembered how it had felt with Danny’s hands all over him. His throat started to feel raw again, remembering the way he’d groaned and cried ‘more, harder’. His head fell back and he closed his eyes as the hand on his thigh crept across and he started palming himself over his pants.

There was hardly any friction, and he was too exhausted to worry about actually getting himself off, but his body relaxed as his hips started to roll forward in sync with the rubbing of his hand. It felt good, not just because he was lazily touching himself, but because of the rushing memories pumping through him.

Seeing Danny while being with someone else, drunk or not, was certainly not okay and he’d been trying to rectify that ever since by distancing himself a little more than he wanted to. Letting himself remember though, there was no harm in that right? He was alone down here and he just wanted to let go. So let go he did, until the memories faded away and his body went limp as sleep took over.

When Danny got home, his room was dark and empty as he changed into something warm and comfy to sleep in. He made his way down the hallway to go to the restroom once more before bed, but stopped by Sam’s door on his way back. He’d left it open, unusual for the times when he slept in his own room.

A light was still on as well, so he peaked inside and found Sam slumped over on his desk. A textbook was open in front of him, and his cell phone was on the charger but near his hand like it had fallen out of his grip when he fell asleep.

Danny sighed, Sam really could sleep anywhere, but he couldn’t leave him like that.

“Sam, come on let’s get you in bed”. He shook his shoulder, hardly waking him up as he helped Sam stand up. When he successfully got him vertical he was able to take in the state of him, and smiled at what he saw.

Sam had gone through his closet when he left and pulled out one of Danny’s old shirts from his highschool golf team. He hadn’t seen that shirt in at least over a year, so Sam must have really dug to the back of the closet to find it. Danny wondered if he had just been bored, or if Sam had gone looking for that shirt in particular.

“Mmm, I was having a good dream” Sam mumbled as he stumbled over to his bed, swinging around out of Danny’s grasp to plop down onto the edge.

“About what?” Danny indulged him by stepping forward, though he only intended to ensure Sam successfully got into bed and under the covers.

Sam’s mischievous smirk was illuminated by the soft glow of the lamp left on at his desk. Once Danny was within close enough range he reached up and grabbed his shirt collar then fell back onto the bed sending Danny tumbling forward on top of him. Danny barely caught himself with one hand on the bed and one on Sam’s shoulder, but Sam tugged him again and connected their lips.

“Shall we pick up where we left off?” He tried to seductively suggest by wrapping his legs around Danny’s waist as he continued to attack his lips with his own.

Danny let Sam kiss him, though he didn’t return the same energy. Not only was he physically not up for the task now, but mentally he wasn’t in the right place anymore.

“You’re insatiable” he chuckled lowly when he was able to pull back, trying to mask the true turmoil he was fighting within. Sam stared up at Danny with an uneasy questioning in his eyes, his legs falling limply to either side of Danny as he gently caressed the hair at the top of Sam’s head.

Earlier Danny was sultry and demanding in his words and actions. Sam had liked it, the way he controlled the moment and all Sam had to do was play along. Now Danny was light in his touches, easy with him like Sam was some porcelain doll he could break if he pressed too hard.

“What’s the matter?”

Danny sighed, but continued his petting. He leaned down to attempt to kiss his worries away, at least for tonight, but Sam turned away letting Danny’s kiss fall on his jaw instead. He looked again, his brows furrowing and his eyes repeating his question.

“Don’t get me wrong, I’ve really enjoyed this week together,” Danny hesitantly began, hoping that Sam wouldn’t take this the wrong way, “but I think we should slow down a bit again”.

He waited for Sam to reply, to ask more questions, anything, but all Sam did was forcibly push Danny off of him and roll over to crawl up to the head of the bed.

“Sam-”

“Get out” Sam cut him off, curling his legs towards his chest and pulling at the blanket underneath him.

“Sam, please don’t be mad at me” Danny begged, wishing now that he hadn’t said anything at all. He should have given Sam some other excuse and let this wait until morning.

“I don’t understand you Danny” Sam groaned, rubbing the leftover sleep from his eyes and face. “First you want to wait, then you don’t, and now you want to wait again? What’s changed? Is it because I said I wanted to fuck you? Did you think I was just always going to let you have it any way you wanted?”

“What? No!” Danny was stunned, did Sam really think that was a problem for him? He didn’t care about the logistics of who did what. He just wanted to make sure his mind was in the right place before they continued to get carried away with the physical side of their relationship.

Sam had said it himself at Christmas, he wished Danny would have talked to him first before they had sex. That’s what he was trying to do this time, talk to Sam about what was bothering him before trying to mask it, only he was failing horribly. What even was he trying to say? He didn’t know, but he knew he had to figure it out before he hurt anyone again.

“Didn’t you and Jake do it all the time? What’s the problem with me then?” Sam’s voice sounded his hurt which only made Danny quiver with grief.

Danny wasn’t surprised to hear Jake’s name come into question. Sam was smart, sometimes a little too smart for his own good, and he had an intuition that was incomparable to anyone else he’d ever met.

“No Sammy, there’s nothing wrong with you” he reached out to try and put a comforting hand on his knee, but Sam pulled his legs tighter to his chest. “There’s never been anything wrong with you, not ever. I'm just… a little mixed up right now”.

“Mixed up?” Sam scoffed which turned into a dark laughter as he moved to hide his face by landing his forehead on his knees. “How long have you been ‘mixed up’ exactly?”

That was a good question. Only Danny didn’t know the real answer, because there was more than one. It could have been since tonight, when he heard Jake’s voice over the phone and realized that it still made his chest uncomfortably tight. Or it could have been when he got that book in the mail that he’d given to Jake for Christmas, suddenly remembering the night he laid in Jake’s bed rummaging through his things while Jake showered. He’d thought at the time how intimate that was, being left alone in someone’s room surrounded by all their most personal belongings. He hadn’t intended to gift him the book when he’d ordered it that night, only slip it into its place alongside the others on Jake’s headboard. He had no reason to be in Jake’s bed anymore now, but he thought the book still deserved to be where it belonged. With who it belonged to.

“Okay then” Sam shakily exhaled, finally pulling the blankets up over his body and sliding down. “I want to go back to sleep now. I think it’s best we stay in our own beds until you’re not ‘mixed up’ any more”.

Sam’s words stung but he was right, so Danny didn’t contest. Instead he just leaned over and left him with a kiss to his crown and quietly left, turning out the light on his way.

When Sam heard the click of his door closing behind Danny he let out a hard choked sob.

Fucking Jake. He always got in the way. First with whatever his vendetta was against Savanna, and now Sam was afraid he might have stolen Danny away.

“You’ve gotten your flights already?” Danny questioned as he watched Sam start packing his bags for his trip in the next few days.

Since learningthat Sam was going to LA after graduation, they had talked about it only a handful of times. Though he had already given his answer to their offer, Sam wanted to visit once to get the lay of the land before really preparing to move.

Danny was going to go with him, but recently they had been trying to spend some time apart, so they decided Sam going alone was for the better.

Spending time apart didn’t mean completely abstaining from each other though. Sam still slept in Danny’s room a couple of times, yet cuddling and kissing had been the extent of their activities.

“Yeah, I have an early morning flight. Tomorrow night I’ll sleep in here so I won’t bother you when I get up”.

Danny stood up from where he had taken a seat at Sam’s desk and moved behind him, wrapping his arms around his waist and rested his chin on Sam’s shoulder. “You won’t leave without saying goodbye to me though will you?”

“We could say our goodbyes tonight if you wanted?” Sam suggested, letting his body lean fully against the weight of Danny on his back.

Danny nuzzled his nose behind the shell of Sam’s ear, breathing in his natural scent and letting the endorphins take him over. After the intoxicating smell, he decided he needed a little taste, so he pulled Sam’s lobe between his teeth and gave it a little nibble.

Sam let out a whimper, his body shaking slightly underneath Danny’s hovering form, and he twisted around in his grip so they could face each other. His arms came up to circle around Danny’s shoulders, and he pulled him down into a heated kiss, quickly parting Danny’s lips with his own and slipping his tongue inside for a taste of his own.

“You want to?” Danny asked just above a whisper, not letting their lips separate for long. Things still weren’t settled between them, but he couldn’t silence the desperation in the way his body talked, especially when Sam’s was sending him so many signals.

He felt Sam nod and tighten his grip, again answering without his words. “Do you want to go to my bedroom? Or stay in here?” Danny looked past Sam’s shoulder at the mess of clothes and bags sprawled out on his bed. He didn’t want to interrupt his packing but Sam didn’t seem to mind. He blindly reached behind himself and swiped his hand across the sheets, sending all his belongings tumbling onto the floor in an arrangement of soft and loud thuds, before sitting down and taking Danny along with him.

Here they were again, Sam was underneath Danny and he was bucking his hips upwards, trying to get any friction he could, as fast as he could before they could back track. He held Danny close by the collar of his shirt, and when Danny’s hands circled around his wrists to pull them off, he halted his movements and started up at him with the fear of being rejected again.

Danny’s expression didn’t read rejection this time though, no the fierceness had returned. The blacks of his eyes had blown wide, leaving only a small halo of mossy green behind and he peeled his shirt off before returning to kissing Sam.

Sam closed his eyes and let the fiery feeling sink into his skin and settle into the pit of his stomach as Danny trailed his kisses down to his neck. He wondered if Danny would leave any new marks on him where all the others had already faded.

“Want… Jake…” he heard Danny’s voice muffled against his shoulder, causing his eyes to snap open and his blood to run cold.

“What did you just say?”

Danny pulled back, unphased, and repeated what he’d said. “Want to take this off” he tugged at the collar of Sam’s shirt. “Can I?”

“Oh, yeah” Sam tried to steady his heart beat as he lifted his shoulders and helped Danny pull his shirt off.

“What did you think I said?” Danny chuckled, unaware of the mini heart attack he’d just given him.

“Nothing, nothing at all” Sam replied, wrapping his arms back around him and trying to keep going.

Danny let his hands trail down Sam’s torso, leaving behind a trail of goosebumps now that Sam was cold and still shaking.

Danny thought he was just really into it, which only urged him to do more. He kissed his chest, then his naval, then hovered above his groin as his fingers played with the waistband of his sweats. If there was anything he could do to make up for the last time, he knew this would be it.

Sam bit his lip and lifted his hips as Danny started to pull his pants down.

“…Jake… so good”.

“What?” Sam snapped again. Why the fuck did he keep hearing Jake’s name out of Danny’s mouth? And when it was so close to his faltering erection?

“I said”, Danny kissed his member over his underwear next, letting his hot breath linger there, “gonna make you feel so good”.

Sam reached down and pulled his last piece of clothing off, making Danny chuckle again at his impatience. “No more talking” Sam demanded, weaving his fingers through Danny’s hair and pushing him down.

Danny gladly took him in, bobbing his head up and down eager to please. Sam stared up at the ceiling, digging his fingernails into Danny’s scalp with each downward movement, trying to keep his concentration as best he could now that he’d been rattled a few times.

He attempted to close his eyes again, but when he did he pictured Danny on his knees in front of someone with long brown hair. At first he thought maybe he was picturing himself, but then they turned around and of course it was Jake.

“Goddammit!” Sam yelled, starting Danny off him.

“What? Did I hurt you?” Danny started to panic. He wasn’t sure what he’d done, but he’d been so focused on trying to do a good job he might not have noticed if he nicked him with his teeth or something.

“I’m sorry, I thought I could do this but I can’t”. Sam stood up off the bed and snatched his sweatpants up from off the floor, hurriedly stuffing his legs back into them and covering himself. He suddenly felt very exposed.

“Sam, talk to me, what’s the matter?”

Sam raked his fingers through his hair and shook his head, trying to get the images he’d been repressing over the past few days out of his head. “Every time I’m with you like this I can’t stop thinking about you and my brother! At first I thought it was a one time thing, but it just keeps happening, and it’s getting worse”. His voice came out louder than he’d intended, but he really was tired of this, tired of it all.

He thought maybe if he could get through one time, then go on his trip and let himself start to miss Danny, then he’d come home and things might just start to finally fall into place.

Danny stared at him blankly, which only pissed him off even more. “Why would you think of that?” He babbled dumfoundly, though in the back of his mind Danny knew the reasoning was obvious.

“I don’t know Daniel, maybe if…” he started to trail off, thinking finishing this thought out loud might do more harm than it would any good.

“Maybe what?” Danny pushed on, starting to get a little worked up himself. He couldn’t keep going around in circles like this, they had to hash this out now before they both started losing their minds.

“Maybe if you had said something sooner, before you and Jake ever… I mean if I’d had just known sooner then maybe things would be different”. His thoughts were coming out in a jumbled mess, but Danny was getting the gist of it. Sam tried to come to grips with the fact that he and Jake had been intimate many times before, but the truth was he hated it.

He hated that Danny felt like he couldn’t confess to him sooner, but somehow Jake was easy enough to open up to without all the extra fuss and complication that their whirlwind relationship had accumulated over the past few months.

He hated that he felt like maybe his brother would be a better lover than he ever could be.

“How was I supposed to tell you when you were with Savanna? You have nothing to lose with this Sam. You think if you went crawling back to her right now she wouldn’t take you back?”

“You think if you went to Jake he wouldn’t take you back?” Sam's voice was filled with venom now, biting at Danny for insinuating that he was the only one who had nothing to lose. Sam being afraid of losing Danny was the whole reason they’d gotten swept up like this together in the first place. He promised to give this a chance, see how far they could go together, but he was starting to think that the true beauty in their relationship lied in the way it was before.

He didn’t want to hurt Danny, and he could never hate him; Sam simply wasn’t capable of actually hating anybody. He just missed the effortlessness of their friendship.

“So what does this mean then?” Danny questioned after a moment of silence. They were in a standoff, standing in the middle of a shaky wooden bridge over a never ending gorge with their only options being pushing forward and hoping the fraying ropes wouldn’t snap, or going back to where they knew it was safe.

“I think you know what this means”. Sam couldn’t look him in the eye, couldn’t bring himself to see the way his words tore through Danny like he was ripping pages right out of a book. Pages that didn’t belong anymore, at least not in this story.

Sam wanted a break, a chance to get away and figure things out on his own without the constant pressure of others. Taking this trip now was probably the best thing that could happen for them. Sam would go away for a few days and when he got back hopefully they could sort this out once and for all.

“I understand Sam” Danny replied dejectedly, but at least there was no more anger in his tone. He couldn’t be angry at Sam, not when the both of them had made the choices that led them here.

He thought back to a comment Jake had made a while ago-

“Danny, you don’t regret anything we’ve done do you?”

The thing was, even with this outcome, Danny still didn’t regret anything. Because all the things he’d learned about himself along the way, and the confidence he grew, were what made him capable of even attempting this with Sam. If he had said anything sooner, he wasn’t sure he would have been ready to face everything they had and things could have ended up a lot worse.

“I’m going to go, let you finish packing up. I’ll see you in the morning, ok?”

“I’m sorry Daniel” Sam’s lips quivered as he spoke. Danny was holding himself together better than he’d expected he would, and he knew that was a good thing, but that didn’t mean he still wasn’t sorry.

“Don’t be,” Danny stood and placed his hands lightly on each of Sam’s shoulders mustering up the best half smile he could manage before giving him a feather light kiss on the cheek. “I still love you, I always will”.

Sam nodded and sniffled a little, wiping the corner of his eye before the tear could even fall. Danny was being strong for him, he knew he was, so he had to reel it in too. The thing was, he wasn’t crumbling because he thought this would be the end of them. He was letting it all out because he knew it was the right decision.

The next day Danny tiptoed around Sam, wanting to still spend time with him before he left, but not wanting to overstep any new boundaries he knew they’d have to establish eventually.

The day seemed to drag on, but at the same time he felt like after he cried himself to sleep that night, when his eyes finally did shut, they were open again the next morning and Sam was gone.

Now that he had the space to himself he knew he could begin to collapse. He could open the floodgates and let the rush of emotions he kept damned up sweep through him until every nerve in his body had eroded away.

Something told him if he let that happen though, he might not be able to plug it back up when Sam returned, so instead he looked for distractions.

The first distraction was cleaning, but the problem was he and Sam were actually pretty tidy people to begin with, so there wasn’t much for him to do there.

The second distraction was work. He’d picked up an extra shift knowing he was going to be antsy and in a bad mood while Sam was gone. He realized though that the monotony of doing the same thing he always did, taking orders, tidying up the dining room when he had the chance, and stocking menus and utensils didn’t help keep his mind from telling him over and over again that he wasn’t good enough.

By the time his shift was finally over he was ready to bolt out the door, but he was dreading going back to an empty home. So instead Danny drove around for a while, thinking he could head to the library and maybe studying would keep him distracted, but he didn’t want to run into any classmates while he was in this state.

Eventually his car came to a stop on a familiar street and he waited outside, debating on if he should even attempt walking up to the door.

Danny held his breath as he knocked. There wasn’t an answer right away, but his car was also parked outside so Danny was pretty sure he was home. He jumped a little at the sound of the door unlocking, forcing him to breathe again as Jake opened the door.

“Hey, what's up?” Jake asked, surprised to see Danny at his doorstep unannounced. He took one good look at Danny and immediately knew something was wrong. “Wait, are you alright?”

Danny opened his mouth to speak, but all that came out was an incoherent jumble of “Sam… gone… broke up” as tears started to well up again.

Jake threw his arms around Danny and tried to console him and he drug him inside, shutting the door behind them with a kick of his bare foot.

He sat Danny down on his couch and crouched down in front of him, waiting patiently as he caressed one of Danny’s hands until the tears started to run out.

Once Danny was done he moved to sit next to him, not letting his hand go and sympathetically asked him,

“Tell me what happened”.

@alwaysonthemend @psychedelicstardust-gvf @twistedmelodies @heckingfrick

[verai-marcel]

Your Hearth Is My Home (BG3 Fanfic, Astarion x Female Reader, Part 8 of ?)

Summary, Notes, Tags, & Part 1 are here.

Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7

AO3 Link is here, my dear.

Word Count: 4287

————————————

Act I, Chapter 8 - The Mountain

Lae’zel was waiting under an archway in the middle of the path. Wyll wordlessly handed over her backpack as she rejoined the party, seamlessly taking point as everyone continued up the path that veered west. You followed the others up the trail, silently thinking about your next move. Should I stay or should I go?

Along the way, you found a trader to offload some of the random wares you had collected, but she also asked for what amounted to a baby for experimentation. So you just quickly bartered your useless items and went along your way, while the others held Lae’zel back from slashing the trader’s throat open.

As the sun began to set behind the hills, you reached a cable car and a rusty wheel.

“We shall cross and set up camp on the other side,” Lae’zel commanded, pointing to what seemed to be a defensible cliffside.

“I would agree to that plan, if we could get this contraption to work,” Gale said as he poked the prodded at the wheel. “There must be something around here to unlock it, a lever or mechanism…”

Karlach walked up to it, took one look, and yanked at the wheel with all her mighty strength, forcing it to turn. There was a moment’s pause before the cable car finally creaked along, echoing off the cliffs below.

“Got it!” she said happily.

“Ah. Right,” Gale said, frowning for a moment before shrugging nonchalantly. “Well, at least we can cross now.”

You got onto the cable car and rode it across the chasm. Looking out at the landscape, bathed in the crimson light of the setting sun, you sighed. It was getting harder and harder to leave now. How would you navigate back to the River Chionthar on your own?

At least for now, you had this lovely landscape to stare at while you figured out your next move.

You glanced over at your companions, who were being uncharacteristically quiet as they, too, admired the view. Looking at each of them in turn, you wondered when you had begun to care for them on a deeper level. Your eyes lingered on Astarion for just a moment longer than the rest.

His eyes flickered over at you. Catching your gaze, he smiled knowingly.

Ah shit, he caught me.

Quickly looking away, you stared out at the canyon again. You had to admit, he was rather lovely with the waning sunlight against his skin, his hair perfectly in place despite having a full day of traveling behind him. If he just stayed quiet and didn’t spit out unwarranted flattery every two seconds, you might have thought him attractive.

Why do my eyes keep gravitating towards him?

You worried about him, more so than the others. You thought about his behavior and wondered what you could do to help him. You cared.

You closed your eyes. When the fuck did that happen?

Taking a deep, slow breath, you opened your eyes and stared out at the landscape once more, clearing your mind until you arrived at the other side. You followed the others down the hillside to a nice little area that had a partially ruined stone building and an old, gnarled tree that overlooked the canyons below. As you began to set up the spot for the campfire, everyone else picked a spot for their tents and started setting up. 

Seeing Astarion fumble the parts of his tent, you went over to help. He seemed a little less experienced than the others in such things.

"Mind where you face the tent," he said without looking at you as he tried to hide how much he was struggling with the poles. "I don't like having the sunlight hit me straight in the eyes in the morning."

You took the poles from his hands and deftly put everything together. Of course you knew how to set up a tent properly. Who the hell did he think you were? 

But when you caught the small smirk on his face, you knew immediately he was just pulling your chain, and in your infinite maturity, you stuck your tongue out at him.

“Careful darling. Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

You immediately put your tongue back in your mouth and scowled.

You quickly finished helping him so you could prepare a meal with some of the camp supplies. You snacked on some of the cured meats and cheeses as you cooked, so that by the time everyone was done with their own tents and had gathered around the campfire, you were mostly full. After serving up the meal, you excused yourself to prep everyone's tents with your various spells, giving the excuse that it was getting late. You could see them all at the campfire, hearing them discuss their next move, along with some friendly banter as well. 

You were a bit surprised to see Astarion lingering at the campfire. He usually left before a meal, not returning until everyone else had fallen asleep. You could hear him being smarmy and charming, eliciting laughter from the others. 

Guess he finally decided to open up. 

Or, perhaps, the whole group had grown closer while you weren't there. Seemed like a natural thing, after all. They only really saw you in the evenings when they came back from their adventuring. The rest of the day, they spent with each other. Sure, you've had a day here and there with some of them when they guarded the camp, but that didn't make up for the time they had spent together. 

You suddenly felt very alone. 

As you finished Shadowheart's tent, you could hear her walking towards you. She had a naturally quiet step, neither ambling like Wyll's nor quick like Lae'zel's. You turned to her, just in time to catch her reaching out to you. You forced yourself not to flinch like you had with Gale. 

Her hand landed lightly on your shoulder, a feather touch. "Are you alright? You seem a bit down."

You smiled. Since you had come across her first, Shadowheart held a special place in your memories. She had been so prickly at first, but you had been insistent in treating her. Now, you'd almost consider her a friend, if only she didn’t seem so distant all the time.

"I… I'm not sure if I should stay," you confessed. Turning to her, you saw her shocked expression, but you continued. "I'm a liability. I'll just hold everyone up when we're traveling. I can't fight, I can't jump very far, I can't—“

Shadowheart shook your shoulder once. You hadn’t realized that you were starting to breathe faster with your rant. "You're not a liability,” she said. "You—" 

She let go of you and took a small step back. "We like coming back to you at the end of the day. It makes getting through every battle, every setback, so much easier knowing that we can come back to you for a hot meal and a nice, warm tent.” A soft smile spread across her face. “You make camp feel like home."

You couldn’t help but smile back. You were touched.

"And you've been so accepting of all of us, and our… quirks,” she continued. “You truly are special, you know that, right?"

Deciding to keep your self-deprecating thoughts to yourself, you replied, “I’m grateful for the compliment.”

She nodded, then looked at you seriously. “But if you ever do feel like you’re in danger with us, we’ll understand if you want to leave. Don’t feel any pressure to stay.”

A little too late to say that. “Alright, I’ll keep that in mind.”

Patting your shoulder, she left you to your thoughts as you finished the rest of the tents.

***

After cleaning up for the evening, you went over to the outcrop that overlooked the canyon below. The moonlight lit up the forest below, and cast a silvery glow on the ruins behind you. Sitting beneath the tree, you wondered if your voice would echo off the cliffs. 

"Perhaps I shouldn't," you mumbled to yourself. 

"Shouldn't what?" 

You turned to see Gale walking up to you. He plopped himself down on the soft grass beside you. 

"I was wondering if my voice would echo down there, but that might attract things we don't want."

"A wise decision, although you could try it when we leave this place. For knowledge's sake."

You grinned. Of course. Anything for the sake of knowledge.

The two of you sat quietly, enjoying the scenery, but you knew it wouldn’t last long.

“So, how long did you live in Waterdeep?”

There it was. You debated how much to tell him. “A few years,” you answered vaguely.

“Ah.” A few more moments passed in silence. “I get the feeling if I ask anything more, you’ll give me increasingly ambiguous answers until you feign tiredness and head off to bed.”

You smiled. “You understand me so well.”

“I’d like to think after the time we’ve spent together that I understand you a bit better than when we first met.” He was smiling at you, and though you wanted to brush his hand to get an idea of what he was feeling, you decided it might give the wrong impression. So you refrained and just nodded.

“I have a tower in Waterdeep, you know,” he said, filling the silence. “You’re welcome to visit, if—”

Gale suddenly doubled over, gripping his chest.

“Gale!”

He held out his hand. “I’m alright. I just…” His words stopped as he took a deep breath. He was clearly in pain.

Debating if you should diagnose him, you watched as he grimaced and leaned back, taking in deep breaths of the cold mountain air. Dammit, I have to know. You took off one glove and reached for him. As your hand covered his hand over his chest, you felt as if your very soul was getting sucked in. You quickly pulled away, but you already felt a slight drain, as if threads of magic had been dragged out of you.

“What… what in the hells…” you muttered.

He looked up at you, surprised as you were. Taking another breath, he straightened himself. “I… I seem to be a bit better.” He looked up at you. “This has never happened before.”

You raised an eyebrow.

Gale looked apologetic. “Well, I should say I’ve never absorbed the Weave straight from another person before.”

Your eyes widened. As he explained himself, he admitted that he had been ‘eating’ the less useful magical artifacts that the party had been collecting, and he also confessed that lately, it hadn’t been as effective.

“That’s the reason I came to talk to you. Granted, I did procrastinate a bit.”

You raised an eyebrow.

“The rest of the party knows about my… condition.” He sighed. “I told them the other day while we were coming back from the goblin camp. Thankfully, they have decided to let me stay. But you…” He held his hand out to you. “You should know what happened, so you can make the choice. If you want me to go.”

You gave him your gloved hand. He held it to his chest, and you saw his memory. But with his magic intertwining with yours, you also felt his memories on a deeper level, even without direct skin contact. You wanted to both slap him and give him a hug after seeing it all.

“So. I’m a walking time bomb,” he said after he let go of your hand. “I understand if you don’t feel safe. Tell me to leave. I won’t be offended. It’d be the wisest choice, honestly.”

It was hard to make that kind of decision looking at his sad face. You turned back to the canyon and stared up at the moon.

You suddenly had a thought. Turning back to him, you asked, “Can I try something?”

He tipped his head quizzically. “Sure?”

You took a deep breath and hummed a melody of moonlight, letting the silvery strands of magic float around you, creating a soft scarf made of ephemeral threads. Slowly moving your hands, you directed the gossamer garment straight to Gale’s chest.

The symbol on his chest glowed as it absorbed it directly. He gasped.

“Did it work?” you asked. “Do you feel better?”

“You… how…” Gale touched his chest in wonder. “No one else has made that work.”

You shrugged. “I don’t know. I just had a hunch.” 

He smiled softly at you. “Well, I greatly appreciate it.” He paused, as if he was about to ask you something, then thought better of it.

“I think you should stay,” you said after a few moments. “After all, it would seem that my magic will help you, o great wizard of Waterdeep.”

He chuckled. “Indeed, it does.” Giving you a slight bow, he thanked you and went back to his tent.

You wondered if it was wise to use your power in this way. Your mother would have probably told you it was a bad idea. After some research into your peculiar magic, a wizard could figure it out. They’d know where your magic came from. After all, that’s how you were discovered after the raid on your village.

Stretching your back and yawning, you headed back to your bedroll. You were tired after feeding a wizard some magic, and you still needed to feed another.

I’m feeding people in all kinds of weird ways.

***

1489 DR, Three Years Ago

It had taken a year, but you had escaped from Waterdeep and made it to Baldur’s Gate. Covering your tracks, you had traveled in an unusual pattern in an attempt to throw off anyone who might be tailing you. Not that you thought anyone really would; after all, you had just been a mere servant of one of the masked lords of Waterdeep. You were pretty sure he didn’t even know that you knew his identity.

But ‘pretty sure’ and ‘absolutely sure’ were two separate things.

You were looking at a map of the surrounding area, deciding what small village to start your new life, when you noticed a man looking at you from across the road.

A tingling on the base of your spine made you pay attention. You started to walk back to the flophouse, keeping your wits about you.

The man continued to appear out of the corner of your eye in various locations as you walked back from the lower city towards Wyrm’s Crossing.

What in the hells?

Instead of heading into the flophouse, you continued past it towards Rivington, hoping to make the man believe you were heading into the village beyond. You made a wide circle and slipped in and out of alleys until you didn’t see him anywhere for a good thirty minutes. The sun was beginning to set and soon the taverns would be streaming with folks looking to drown their sorrows or talk a poor sap out of the shirt off their back.

Thinking yourself safe, you headed back to the flophouse. There were a few people around the lobby, and you weaved past them all to head up the stairs to your bed for the night.

Turning the corner, you saw the man, sitting on your bed. Before you could turn and run, he leapt up and grabbed your wrist. He had no killing intent, but he definitely felt malicious.

“Don’t bother tryin’ ta run, sweetie. I paid the landlord to ignore anything ‘appening up ‘ere.”

That money grubbing arsehole. You tugged at your arm. “What do you want with me?”

“The lord put out a bounty on your ‘ead, alive only.”

Son of a bitch thinks I’m still useful. Well, that’s a relief. Better than dead. “Can’t have been worth much.”

“Barely worth the time. More of a ‘if you see ‘er, grab ‘er’ kind of bounty. And ‘ere you are.” He patted the dagger on his belt. “So ‘ow’s about you come quietly, and I don’t cut yer pretty little face.”

You swallowed. “F-fine,” you stammered. His grip slid up to your shoulder, and he pushed you out of the room and down the stairs. The proprietor glanced at you and quickly looked away. The other people in the lobby avoided eye contact, not wanting to get involved.

Of course. No one helps when it’s not their problem.

Darkness had fallen on the city, and with it, the ability to be seen clearly. You waited until he had marched you further and further away from the buildings, before you started to hum.

“What’re you singin’, sweetheart?”

You didn’t stop humming. 

He shook your arm. “Answer me, wench.”

You looked at him, dead in the eye, and kept humming.

His own eyes began to droop. “‘Ey, what…” He shook his head, but it was no use. “Yer tryin’ somethin’ tricksy, aren’t ya?” he slurred as he let go of your shoulder and clumsily pulled out his dagger.

You immediately grabbed his fist with both hands, turned the dagger towards him, and slammed your whole body into him. Your humming wavered slightly, but you continued. You had to, otherwise he’d regain his strength.

“You… bitch…” the man gurgled as his weight began to fall forward, his forehead touching your exposed skin above the neckline of your shirt. You staggered backward as the shockwave of death from him spilled into you. Gasping for air as if you had been the one stabbed, you kept pushing to make sure the dagger went in deep. 

When you felt him start to push against you, you resumed humming like a madwoman, desperately trying to keep the spell intact.

The man let out one last groan as he succumbed to both his injury and your sleep song. You let him fall to the ground as you side-stepped out of the way, stumbling and falling to your knees.  Clutching your chest, you attempted to catch your breath past the agony in your chest. It felt like a white-hot slicing pain shooting through your entire torso, your heart pounding a hundred miles a second as if it wanted to make a rapid exit from your body.

Gods, it fucking HURTS. No wonder Mother told me never to hurt anyone.

You felt your stomach roil and rumble before you quickly turned away and emptied out what little contents you had, coughing and spitting for a while before you felt like you could breathe normally again. 

I never, EVER want to do that again.

Looking at the corpse, you gathered your courage and pulled the dagger out of the man’s body, flung the blood away, and cleaned it on his armor like you had seen guards do in the past. Then you turned towards the east, stumbling away into the night, away from Baldur’s Gate.

You sure as hell didn’t want to be here when the guards found the body.

***

1492 DR, Present Day

You were grateful when the light chime of your alarm bell, coupled with a soft hoot, and the padding of multiple sets of feet woke you up. You could still smell the tang of blood and the taste of bile in your memories, and reached for your canteen of water to wash it away before getting up.

Astarion had returned, and to your surprise, he seemed a bit unsteady on his feet. You headed towards him, watching him feed scraps of a dead animal to Scratch and the owlbear cub.

“There you go Owly,” he slurred as he gave the cub another bone with decent chunks of meat. “Grow up nice and strong so you can bring me back something fresh.”

"You're naming him Owly?" 

"And why not?" 

"No reason. Just a bit surprised by how… cute, it sounds." You watched as he staggered towards his tent, clearly buzzed. Out of worry, you followed after him. "Are you drunk?"

"I have drunk," he slurred. "A whole bear. Not a beer. Hah."

You stared at the blood on his shirt. “Erm, your sleeves—”

"He took some of my blood, and I took all of his."

His usually perfectly coiffed hair was disheveled and his clothes were bedraggled. You kept following him until he was about to open the flap to his tent. He paused, then turned around to stare at you. "Need something?" 

You shook your head. "No, I… I was just checking on you. Do you need anything from me?" 

He smiled. "I am well fed tonight. But I still need you." He leaned in closer and reached out to lightly caress your arm. You felt nothing through his touch.

He's doing it again. Sighing, you looked at him for a moment longer. Maybe he was just lonely. “Would you like me to spend some time with you?”

"Oh, a bit more forward tonight, are you?" He opened the tent flap and gestured for you to enter.

Rolling your eyes, you entered the tent and plopped down on the ground. You patted the bedroll in front of you. “Sit, please.”

“Will you climb into my lap?”

You sighed. "Just sit down, please."

Frowning, Astarion sat down next to you, his movements still smooth and graceful. Clearly he wasn't that drunk. 

Now that you were here, you weren’t sure what to do. As you glanced around his tent, you saw the brush on top of his pile of books and suddenly had an idea.

“Can I brush your hair?”

He cocked his head in confusion, like a puppy.

"Your hair is a mess," you explained, gesturing at his head. 

He immediately reached up and started to run his fingers through his hair. In his inebriated state, he was only making it worse. 

You grabbed the brush and scooted around so that you were behind him. “Let me take care of it, please.”

He turned his head to look at you for a moment before he faced forward again so you couldn’t see his expression. “If that’s what you want,” he mumbled.

You got up on your knees and began to run the brush through his hair, picking out bits of twigs and fur. "So, how did the bear taste?”

He shrugged. “Like a bear, I suppose.”

“I’m impressed that you can differentiate the flavor. I've tasted boar's blood and my own. They don't seem dissimilar to me.”

He turned his head toward you, a slightly haughty look on his face. “My palate is on a different level, darling. I can taste the life essence within, like a seasoning. A bear just exists. It doesn't think, it doesn't lament, it doesn't dream. But it has a lot of life, so…” He gestured dismissively with his hand. “I suppose it’s like drinking a cheap ale. Doesn’t taste great, but it’ll do in a pinch.”

You watched his expression change, hooded eyes and a sultry smile blooming on his lips. “But you, you must have the loveliest dreams, because your blood tastes like a rich liqueur."

He’s clearly just making shit up. “I thought you said it tasted like honey wine.”

“That was the first time. It changes, probably depending on your emotions. But there's always a sweetness to your flavor.” He turned his body towards you and leaned in closer, looking into your eyes like some fawning sycophant.

You ignored him, moving your attention to his torn and dirty sleeves. Unable to brush his hair since he was facing you, you cast prestidigitation to remove the dirt and blood from his sleeves. 

“Did you enjoy your meal?” you asked after a while.

“It’s nothing compared to, well, other things I could be dining on. Bears are certainly better than the rats and bugs Cazador served me.”

You gasped. A rat would certainly not have enough blood, a bug even less so. You fumed, irrationally angry on his behalf. "I would kick him in the balls for making you go hungry," you hissed in anger.

Astarion looked taken aback by your outburst. But then he laughed. “You? Kicking him in the balls?” He laughed more. “That would be a sight.”

You chuckled with him. “Glad I could entertain you. Now turn back around so I can finish with your hair.”

“Bossy little thing, aren’t you?” But he obeyed your command. Quietly, you worked through his hair, pulling out the last bit of debris and brushing it all back into place. Scooting around him, you took his sleeves into your hands and began to hum your mending cantrip. After a few minutes, you noticed out of the corner of your eye that he had relaxed. His eyes drooped, as if he were going into a trance state. 

Out of curiosity, you brushed his hand. You could feel a faint emotion coming through. It was muddled, like a thought struggling to come to the surface.

Well, at least he isn’t shielding so hard anymore.

You finished mending his sleeves and pulled away.

His eyes shot open.

Not a word was spoken, but you had a funny feeling from his expression that he wanted you to stay. You touched his hand.

Nothing again. Oh well. “Do you need anything else?”

He looked away. “No, I’m fine.”

He isn’t fine. But you had no choice. If he wasn’t going to ask, you couldn’t force him. You wouldn’t force him. “Alright. Then have a good night.”

He began to lean forward, then stopped himself. 

Oh, you poor, touch-starved soul. You leaned in and pressed your forehead against his. “Sweet dreams,” you murmured.

“Sweet dreams,” he whispered.

The last thing you felt as you pulled away from him and left his tent was a lingering emotion, one that was hard to describe. But you knew that it pulled at your heart and made you want to stay.

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Chapter 8 End notes: My chapter word count is just all over the place now, haha. Thanks for reading! And if possible, please help spread my fic out into the world by reblogging, I'd greatly appreciate it. ICYMI: I did a couple of sketches of Hearth Witch's outfits here.

Let me know if you want me to tag you every time I post a new chapter! Tag List: @numblytemporary

[issie-https]

Would you write Nikki Sixx x reader fluff like him waking you up on your birthday with like breakfast in bed and could it be 90s Nikki?

Birthday Girl

Nikki Sixx X Reader

A/n: I need to have a tea party with Nikki and Slash😩 Anyway, I feel like I got a tad carried away? Not that it’s long because it’s a short one but idk. I’ve got a handful of requests to do and I’m so excited! And thank you for 32 followers❤️

Word count: 770

Warnings: Nikki being adorable asf

Masterlist

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I woke up to Nikki slightly shaking my shoulder. "Is everything okay?" I yawned. "It should be," he replied, placing a tray on my lap once I'd sat up. "Aww, Nikki. You didn't have to," I cooed. He gave me a kiss and sat down on his side of the bed. "I did, it's your birthday," he replied, stealing a piece of fruit from the bowl. "Where'd you learn to cook?" I asked, putting a forkful of pancakes in my mouth. "Your mum. I called her the other night and she came over and taught me," he replied. "Is that why Katie invited me to hers?" I said. "Yep," he said. "It all makes sense now," I smiled, taking a sip from my tea. "Happy birthday," he cheered, almost nocking the plate of my lap. "NIKKI!".

"Okay, now that you've finished your food. It's present time," he said, placing three gifts and an envelope on the bed. I looked at the presents and the wrapping was messy but I could tell he made an effort. "Aww, Nikki," I said, my emotions and hormones taking over making tears well in my eyes. "What's wrong?" He asked concerned. "You're so fucking sweet," I cried, pulling him in for a hug. "Open this one first. You can wear it tonight," he said, handing me a rectangle-ish present. I tore the wrapping off to reveal a blue Tiffany & Co. box. I looked at him and he just nodded his head, indicating for me to open it. I opened it and inside was a gorgeous diamond necklace. "Oh, Nikki. It's the one we saw in Italy," I sighed. When Mötley went to Italy, I tagged along and while we walking around, we passed by Tiffany and I stopped to look in the window and saw the most breathtaking diamond pendant on a silver chain. "I got it when you went to the toilet," he added, making me laugh. "Thank you, Nik," I said, kissing his lips. "This one next," he said, handing me a big box. I opened it and saw 'Christian Louboutin' on the lid of the box. "Nikki, I can't," I said, feeling guilty he spent all this money on me. "Open the fucking box or I'll do it for you," he said. I opened it and there were my dream pair of Louboutins looking back at me. "Nikki, I-". "You're keeping these shoes. And you're wearing them tonight whether you like it or not," he cut me off. "Okay. Thank you so much," I replied, taking one last look at the shoes and replacing the lid. He next handed me a thin box, smirking as I tore the wrapping paper off. I looked inside and saw a red set of lingerie. I looked at him and saw him grinning from ear to ear, thinking about me wearing it later. "Very cleaver, Mr Sixx," I laughed. He shrugged and pointed to the last gift. It was an envelope this time, making me confused as fuck. I opened it and it was a handmade card with a Polaroid of us on the front of it. I opened it and saw his messy but adorable writing.

Hi, princess.

I'm not the best with words or stuff like this but I'll do my best. Since we first met eight years ago, I've never stopped thinking about you. Since we started dating six years ago, I've never stopped loving you. Not once have I thought about another woman(not even Sofia Vergara). I don't ever want to think of another woman, you're all I need. I need you in my life forever. I love you, gorgeous.

Love, Nikki xx

I looked up at him, tears streaming down my cheeks. Everything he said about me, I could say about him. It's true, Nikki Sixx is the only man I need. He turned to his bedside cabinet and took something out the draw. He got up and kneeled on the floor, opening the box to reveal a jaw-dropping diamond ring. "Y/n Y/l/n, i said everything in the card so now if the last part, will you marry me?" He asked as I clasped my hands to my mouth. "Yes," I managed to say. He got up and engulfed me in a giant hug, kissing all over my face. He grabbed my hand and put the ring on, kissing my knuckles after he did. "Mrs Sixx," he said, starting to cry as well. "Mr Sixx," I replied, hugging him again. I looked at the diamond on my finger. Mrs Y/n Sixx. I like that.