#stop holding out to make yourself feel holier than thou. youre just fucking people over.

[mothusband]

is anyone else scared

[fiannalover]

Public relations

(Content warning: drugging, second person POV)

7 a.m. classes suuuuuuuck.

Trying to ignore your bad life decisions, you focus on just looking around at the people already waiting for class alongside you. No one too fancy, no one who stands up too much.

With one exception.

Fluffy, long black hair, preppy shirt and skirt in low-key, cozy colors. Such a perfect girl next door vibe, it feels unreal. 

And then it becomes unreal in a different way, as she holds a beaker to her face, swirls it around a bit, seems unhappy with it, puts it to the side, grabs a mortar and begins to energetically pestle something in it.

“I’m sorry. What are you doing?”

“Chemistry.” She answers, with the specific tone of voice that carries a hidden ‘obviously’. “I really need to get this done, so I’m prepping some things before the teacher stops by. My name is Medeia, by the way. Since you kindly asked.”

Oh. You never talked to her, but you’re pretty sure you saw her running all over the place through the previous year. She joined a couple semesters after you did, most likely, but already had quite the reputation. “You’re that magician girl.”

“Potion maker, not magician. The distinction is meaningless, but it matters to me.” She stresses, like you know a single thing she is talking about.

At that point, the professor arrives, and she openly leaves it clear she’ll apply full focus to that. Eh, so be it.

—----------

“Why bother with doing that? Isn’t magic bullshit worthless?”

“As I so kindly keep telling you, and you so kindly keep ignoring, it is not magic. Just potions.” She reaffirms. “And I find your ignorance very interesting when, amongst other students, one of our underclassmen is a recently shifted werewolf, just as an immediate example.”

“There is one of those here? Gross. Not like that interests me, so I don’t bother to learn about it.”

The girl’s eyebrow raises inquisitively in response to that. “I’m sorry. What major are you doing again?”

“P.R.”

“Ah. Figures. Don’t worry, I’m sure you'll sell yourself off real quick.” She snarks, before opening her bag, picking a small sachet of some mysterious powder, and letting the substance fall into her water bottle. “You should be careful. Ignorance opens many blind spots. Before long, one of them will make use of your confidence in a way you’ll be lucky to live to regret.”

“Is that a threat?”

“It is a warning.”

“Hum. Perhaps if you try to teach me what I’m mi-”

“I have a girlfriend.” She said, shutting down your move with zero hesitation. Tsk. Boring girl. What was up with that holier-than-thou attitude.

“Of fucking course you do. Well, the faeric shit you seem to like was trouble for my grandma’s time not today. We’re the ones to rule the world nowadays.” She hums while shaking her bottle, leaving it clear she has no interest in the topic. “What are you even doing, anyway? Love potion? Mercury? Magic acid?”

“Lemonade. Non alcoholic. Just water and lemon juice powder.”

You blink. “That’s it?”

“I'm thirsty. The fact I know a thing or two of alchemy does increase my appreciation of it, though. The mundane strengthens the awe of the fantastical, and that inspires the beauty of the former. One way or another, the more you know, the better you see the dangers in both.” She matter of factly answered, taking a sip with joy. “Hum, I should add an extra pinch of sugar next time. Maybe make it from scratch and figure out how to add honey.”

—-------------

Your mouth is salty.

You try to soothe it with some more beer, but it only makes it worse, somehow. Something is wrong. Something is… weird.

You get up from the bar’s table and wobble your way out. The music and cheering feel like howls to your throbbing head, specters hovering around you while you’re unable to make out any distinguishing qualities. Eventually, you’re out on the street, with the cacophony of the party replaced by the all encompassing madness of the moonlight.

The car… I gotta get to my car.

Each step feels heavier and more unstable, as if your blood had turned into pure lead. You turn a corner, then another, unsure of your directions, until you can determine two things.

This street is deserted.

There is someone here.

Your body gives up on sustaining itself, falling to the ground. You probably should be worried about how you felt no pain at all from the impact, but that comes as a relief right now.

… Hrgh… red. 

Looking ever slightly forward, struggling to keep your eyes open as the trail of color goes on, you see someone in front of you. You can't really make any characteristics, but the person's mouth is wide open.

You must be dreaming. No one has teeth that sharp and sparkly white, is all you can think of as it leans towards you.

"Back off!"

A wooden object swings towards the mystery person, and you can't quite make sure if it hit or not. You think you see something thrown in its direction, and before long some girl kneels by your side.

"O- ourse- you." Your ears fail you. You're so sleepy… "Drink- ow."

Something is pressed to your lips, reminding you that it still feels like pure salt is coating your tongue. Unable to resist, you open wide and begin drinking.

It's sweet. So delightfully, amazingly sweet. Somehow, all you felt these last couple minutes of pain fade away, shifting into a pleasant dream.

Yes… you can fall asleep, finally… So thick and syrupy… like honey…

—-------

You wake up the next day on your dorm's couch.

Jerks. They could have at least tossed you on your bed.

You react with confusion over your flatmates' tease about your latest fling, and the fact you think your headache isn't as bad as it should be. Your face feels itchy too. Are those scratch marks and bandaids? What the hell went on-

Reaching for your pocket, you feel something in it which most certainly wasn't there before. Taking it out, you see a paper napkin in which, alongside a phone number, was scribed:

Medeia Camille

Potion Maker and student, here for your needs.

You open your bedside table's drawer and throw the paper in, memories of a night that never happened beating from behind a curtain of wood.

[tomurasprincess]

Masked Deception (Shigaraki x Reader)

Summary: Masquerade balls were something you’d only ever heard about in movies. You couldn’t deny the prospect was intriguing; donning your most elegant attire, confidence boosted by your anonymity and the intoxication brought on by such a magical atmosphere. You and your fellow partygoers were almost doomed to desire, inhibitions washed away long before the wine and spirits start to flow.

The mystery, majesty, and potential for mischief were far too enticing to resist.

So, when you received an invitation to Midnight’s Masquerade, you didn’t think twice about accepting…

Pairing: Shigaraki x Reader Rating: Explicit + Word Count: 4k Warnings: Dubcon (due to mistaken identity), degradation, semi-public sex, rough sex, biting, yandere Note: My entry for @lemonlordleah-shinzawa-kitten​‘s Citrus Dome Masquerade collab! The masterlist can be found here. Yes, I am writing Shigaraki, try to contain your surprise. Thanks: To @ichor-and-symbiosis for talking over the idea with me and suggesting the mask, and to @hisoknen for beta reading for me!

When you received the fancy, gilded invitation you’re holding in your hand, you couldn’t help but be shocked. Midnight’s Masquerade is a rather exclusive event, and there will be quite a few big names mingling around among the crowd tonight.

Of course, it will be hard to tell with everyone wearing masks.

Still though, you’re excited to be included. You’re not a minor hero by any means, but you’re hardly ready for the top 20 leaderboard. At least not yet. You have every hope of eventually making a name for yourself as a pro-hero.

And so with a sense of pure excitement, you walk into the ballroom. You chose a beautiful floor length purple dress with intricate beadwork through the bust and down the front. It has a bit of a train behind it, but part of the bottom half easily detaches in case you need to fight. Not that you believe it will be necessary at an event crawling with heroes, but you like to be prepared.

The ballroom itself is magnificent. The ceiling is domed with various gold inlaid designs, and the huge chandeliers have crystals that dangle down and catch the light.

People mingle everywhere, all dressed in finery that you couldn’t hope to afford, with beautifully elaborate masks. Your own mask is rather simple, mostly silver colored with hints of red throughout. You glance down at the rest of your attire, almost feeling dressed down, before you shake your head and head to the dance floor, determined to have a good time. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity, after all.

You dance for what feels like forever, but is likely only an hour or so before you get thirsty. But as you make your way over to the drink table, you’re stopped by one of the other partygoers.

“You quitting already? I was hoping to dance with you!” The man grabs your wrist and tries to pull you towards the dance floor. He’s obviously had too much to drink already, as he sways on his feet when you pull your wrist from his grip.

“Not interested,” you remark flatly as you turn to walk away. But he wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you into his body roughly, refusing to let go when you try to pull away. Your eyes scan the crowd, hoping for someone to notice and put a stop to this before you have to cause a scene, but nobody meets your eyes.

“If you knew who I was, you wouldn’t be refusing me, you know,” he growls a bit in your ear. His hand moves slowly down your back and you cringe a bit in disgust. The spiked heel of your shoe comes down hard on his ankle, and he lets out a hiss of pain but still doesn’t let you go, grip merely digging in harder.

“You whore, I’m a top hero and you’re probably a nobody,” he snarls at you as his grip becomes painful, “you should be honored I’m even paying attention to you.”

“Is this what hero society has become?” You hear a scoff from behind you. You turn around to see a man dressed in an all black suit, standing off to the side with his arms crossed against his chest. He’s wearing a kintsugi mask, red with wispy silver lines spreading out along the surface. The kintsugi symbolizes broken pieces coming back together even stronger and more beautiful than before, and it makes you wonder what in the man’s history caused him to choose such a mask.

What appears to be blue hair is pulled back into a simple, slicked back ponytail, and his red eyes underneath the mask are sharp and calculating, like he’s seeing right through you. You feel a sense of unease but also a thrill go through you at his regard. “You harass some woman, and all the other pathetic heroes look the other way?”

“This isn’t any of your business, so why don’t you just walk away,” the man still holding on to you threatens, “before I make you - “

He doesn’t even finish his sentence before the red eyed man shoots out at him, landing a blow to the back of his head so quickly that you can barely follow it with your eyes. He instantly lets go, falling to the floor with a loud thud that causes everyone around you to stare at the scene.

“I think the poor hero here had too much to drink,” he chuckled, “guess he can’t hold his alcohol.” Nobody questions his version of events, and a few attendants come to pick up the unconscious man on the floor.

You’re led away from the crowd by the intense man over to the hors d'oeuvres table, where you grab some water. You’re keenly aware of him watching your every movement, and you shift slightly back and forth as you drink, trying to calm yourself down from the earlier incident.

“Thanks for stepping in, by the way.”

“It’s nothing,” he scoffs, “this party is boring and I like to fuck with holier-than-thou heroes.”

You try to hold in your laughter, but you fail. “To be fair, I do too. There’s so many of them lately who just care about fame and will step over anyone to get it.”

“Is that so?” A hint of curiosity enters the man’s voice. “A hero being negative about the other heroes, go figure.”

“I don’t think I’m being negative, just honest. And it doesn’t help that my quirk,” you trail off before you finish your sentence, aware that you were about to say too much that might reveal who you are.

“Your quirk? Let me guess, you don’t have a particularly powerful one?” He muses on the question before dismissing it instantly. “Nah, I don’t think that’s it. Don’t have a particularly heroic one, maybe?”

He laughs quietly when you stiffen up at that, and you’re secretly glad that he can’t see your full expression through the mask. It’s been a sore spot for you ever since you got your hero license. You had to fight twice as hard to get recognized, even though all you ever wanted to do was use your quirk for good.

“Got it that time,” he says smugly. “So let me guess, you’re not well liked by the other heroes because of it? Held back, maybe?”

You desperately try to think of a retort, some argument you can make against this man who has a dangerous level of perception. But you can think of nothing, and you finally turn your head away from him only to hear him chuckle.

“Even with a mask, you’re easy to read, princess. Why are you here, then? You seem just as bored as I am.”

“No, that’s not true,” you retort back, “it’s a big honor to be invited here.”

“A big honor, huh? Interesting that you didn’t argue about being bored.”

“I - of course I’m not bored,” you lie through your teeth. The man is right, of course. You already want to leave, especially after what happened earlier, but you feel obligated to stay for a bit longer.

“You’re a bad liar,” the man notes, “and that’s unusual for a hero.”

“Let me ask you the same question, then. If you hate the heroes so much, why are you here?” You shoot back in irritation. “And why haven’t you left?”

He gives an indifferent shrug but doesn’t actually answer the question. “Maybe I haven’t left because I’m trying to get you alone,” he smirks at you as you feel your face heat up under the mask.

“And why would you want to do that?” You say softly as you take a single step closer. For some reason, despite not knowing anything about this man, you are interested in knowing more.

He takes several steps forward as well, before reaching around to grab your ass and pull you roughly into him. You feel him grind his hips against you, and you can feel the hardened bulge there. “I can think of a few reasons,” he whispers. ”You interested? Or are you going to be like the rest of these boring ass heroes?”

This is a bad idea, you know it is. Every instinct in you is telling you that there is something dangerous about this man. But that only makes you want to do it more. “Maybe I am interested,” you laugh in a teasing tone. “What about it?”

“Then why don’t we go somewhere a little more private, hmm?” The man asks you slyly as he guides you out of the ballroom and down a series of corridors. He pulls you into an empty bedroom, with an ornate four poster bed dominating one side along with a grand fireplace and windows big enough to let moonlight stream through the entire room. You hear a click as he locks the door, and then he’s on you like a flash.

He pins you up against a table, lifting you up and settling in between your legs as he begins to kiss you. There’s a desperation to it, a sense of passion that you have never experienced before. He’s downright feral as he dominates your mouth, tongue wrapping around your own as he drags his teeth across your lower lip. When he finally pulls away, you’re both breathless and panting.

You’re surprised when he pulls the train off your dress off with one sharp yank as he drops to his knees in front of you. “These are mine now,” he slips your panties down before pocketing them, smirking when he sees your confused look. “A bit of a party favor.”

In an instant, his mouth is on the heated flesh between your legs and you lose the ability to say anything back. He uses one hand to spread open your folds before licking his way up. He barely grazes your clit with his tongue, and chuckles as you whine when he pulls away. “So needy for me,” he murmurs as he slips a finger inside of you. “And so wet already.”

He attaches his lips to your clit, applying firm suction around the swollen bead, the sudden shout you make at the pleasure has you hoping nobody heard you. You wrap your hand in his hair, trying to force him to stay between your legs as he devours you like a man starved.

He makes up for what seems like a lack of experience by sheer enthusiasm, sucking hard at your clit as he slips another finger into your pussy. You throw your head back and begin to moan as he pumps his fingers inside of you, letting out a sharper gasp when he grazes that soft, spongy spot inside of you.

You see his eyes through the mask instantly go calculating before he deliberately curls his fingers up and repeatedly hits that spot. The tension in you is quickly building up as you feel yourself tighten around him when he adds in a third finger.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he groans at the feeling of your walls sucking his fingers in. “I can’t wait to feel your sweet little cunt gripping my cock like this.”

His words cause your lower stomach to clench, making him realize how close you are as he increases his pace and reattaches his mouth to your clit. As he licks the juices flooding out of you, moaning into your heated flesh like you’re the most delicious meal he’s ever had. The vibration is enough to send you over the edge as your pussy flutters around his fingers, legs clamping around his head as you shake.

He doesn’t stop even after your orgasm is over, relentlessly licking and sucking at your clit until you’re whining and trying to pull away from him. “Too much, too sensitive,” you hiss out, but he refuses to budge, continuing to slam his fingers against your g-spot until you’re pushed over the edge yet again, pussy gushing around his fingers.

“That was so fucking hot,” he growls as he stands up and begins to unbuckle his pants. He rips the bottom half of your dress open to allow him easier access as he slowly pumps his cock in his fist.

“You fucking asshole, do you know how much that dress costs?”

“So sorry, princess,” he snorts with not a hint of remorse as he removes his cock from his pants and gives it a stroke, grinning as your eyes lower to watch the movement. He’s painfully hard, thick vein running up his length throbbing and pulsing. His cockhead is already dripping precum, and you can’t help but lick your lips at the sight.        

He runs his cockhead up your folds, stopping long enough to prod at your puffy clit and sending it more zings of pleasure up your body. He collects your wetness as he begins to push into your throbbing pussy, sliding in easily because of how aroused you are. You can tell he wants to be slow, let you adjust, but he reaches the limit of his restraint as he grips your hips and thrusts himself the rest of the way inside of you in one quick snap of his hips.

Despite how wet you are, you still let out a sharp hiss of pain at the feeling of him stretching you and bottoming out inside of you. He gives you a mere second to adjust before he starts pounding into you, gripping your hip with one powerful hand and digging in hard enough that it hurts. You know you’re going to be bruised and sore after this, and the thought riles you up even more.

He reaches up to cup your breasts, squeezing the nipple in between two fingers as he trails kisses down your neck. You can feel him suck and bite down the column of your neck, knowing full well that he’s leaving all sorts of hickies that will be seen by anyone who looks. You want to be mad, but everything feels so good that you can’t even begin to protest.

“You’re taking my cock so damned well,” he praises you, causing you to clench down around him. “Do you want to see me? See who I really am?” Your eyes widen at the suggestion before you nod, reaching for his mask. He doesn’t stop you, allowing you to slip the mask off his head. When you see who he really is, your heart seems to stop beating for a second, your world narrowing down to nothing but his face.

Tomura Shigaraki, the leader of the League of Villains, is ravaging your cunt like he owns you.

“Oh my god,” you suck in a breath, “you - you’re Shigaraki.”

He lets out a malicious laugh as he digs into your hips even harder when you try to pull away from him. “Call me Tomura. Only fair since I’m balls deep inside you right now.”

“You - you tricked me,” you stammer, a slight edge of fear entering your voice that you don’t even try to hide. “Are you going to kill me?”

He changes his angle just enough to hit that sensitive spot, drilling into your walls with every single thrust. “Why would I, when this cunt feels so fucking good?” Your eyes roll back into your head, legs shaking from the pressure building back up inside of you.

“You’re such a - hnggg, shit - such a fucking asshole.”

“Am I? I could always stop, you know.” He begins to slow his pace, causing you to lose what was promising to be a truly intense orgasm. You let out a whine as you try to push back into him, and he holds you in place as he watches you. “Do you want me to stop?” He sounds so arrogant, so sure of himself that you almost want to tell him to go fuck himself instead. But he has you right where he wants you, and he knows exactly what your answer is going to be.

You realize exactly how much of a terrible idea this is, knowing that you should be disgusted, horrified of a villain taking advantage of you like this. But everything just feels too good, too intense. “Don’t fucking stop, damnit,” you growl at him as he smirks and begins to move again. “That’s a good girl.”

You stop trying to push him away, instead choosing to wrap your arms around the back of his neck, legs coming around to dig your heels into his back. “Harder,” you command, and he instantly obliges you as he pulls almost all the way out of your dripping heat before slamming back balls deep, hitting your cervix and causing a pained whine to leave your throat. But even the pain feels amazing.

“Who knew a hero would like villain cock so much? I bet you’ve wanted someone to fuck you like this for a while, huh? A hero certainly never would.”

You let out a slight growl at his words as you shake your head. “Why don’t you just shut up and fuck me already?”

“Why don’t you just admit it?” He retorts back, laughing as you glare at him.  He sighs as you refuse to say a word, pulling all the way out of you.

“Ahh, I guess you really don’t want this villain’s cock, now do you?” He reaches for his belt buckle, as if he intends to get dressed and leave you here, still burning for release and needy for him.

“Fuck, you really are a bastard,” you hiss at him. “Fine, I want your villain cock. I want you to fuck me already.” You let out a sharp gasp as he yanks you off the table, slamming you down face first against it and bending you over. He trails his still rock hard cock along your dripping folds, but still doesn’t enter you.

“Fuck, please, I need you,” you finally give up all pretense of shame, resorting to sheer desperate begging. “Tomura, please, I need you.” At the mention of his name, he grabs your shoulders as he buries himself inside of you again with one powerful thrust.

There is no precision to his movements anymore, just pure animalistic thrusting. It’s all you can do to hold on, nails causing marks in the wood table as you grip it. His heavy balls slap your clit with every thrust, and you can feel the pressure building back up inside of you quickly.

“Hngg, god, fuck yes,” you pant, barely able to keep up with the force of his movement. Yet you still try, pushing your hips back to meet every thrust into your aching cunt. “Feels so good, fuck Tomura, don’t stop - “

His grunts become deeper, his pace inside of you becoming more erratic as he changes his angle slightly to hit that sensitive, spongy patch deep inside of you. It’s enough to finally unravel you, and your orgasm hits you full force. You squeal as your muscles tighten, only able to remain on your shaky legs by clutching the table.

“Fuck, you’re so tight, not going to last - “

“Please cum,” you whine, “cum inside of me, fill me up, Tomura -”

He lets out a surprised hiss of air as he grips your hips, giving several more thrusts inside of you before you feel his cock between to twitch and hot ropes of cum filling you up. He fucks you through his orgasm, milking his cock until he’s spent. Overstimulated, he finally pulls out of you as he leans into the table for support, breath coming in fast pants.

You’re in no better shape either, legs so wobbly that you couldn’t hope to walk at this point. So you settle for lowering yourself down the floor to regain your breath. He stares at you for a long moment before doing the same, stretching out beside you.

You don’t speak for several minutes, content to lay side by side as you try to come down from both of your highs. But when you do, you’re surprised by what you end up asking him. “So what now?” You glance at him, only to see him shrug.

“Well now, I guess you have a choice then, don’t you hero? You could go call the heroes in here, try to have me arrested. Go on with your boring little hero life that we both know you’re not cut out for.”

You wait for him to continue, but he says nothing more. “Or what? You said I had a choice.”

“Or you could pretend that you never met me here and let me go. Would certainly be easier for me not to have to fight my way out,” he says so nonchalantly that you almost wouldn’t believe he was talking about fighting through an entire mansion of heroes.

“And if I did that, what’s in it for me?”

“The chance to be more than some pathetic little hero wannabe.” He straddles your legs, running four fingers down your chest, with his pinky hovering close by. “The heroes will never appreciate you. Not like I will.” You know you should feel afraid with the most wanted criminal in Japan pinning you down, running his lethal hands over your body. All it would take is one single inch, one single slip of his finger, and you would be ash underneath him. But you strangely feel no fear whatsoever. The thought both terrifies and thrills you all at once.

You both turn to the door as one when you hear shouting coming down the hall, screaming about a villain attack. He glances at you, completely calm as he waits to see what you’ll do, what choice you’ll make. He doesn’t try to stop you as you stand up, straightening your dress as much as possible. He doesn’t even make a move to escape.

“Go,” you finally say reluctantly. “Get out of here and I’ll distract them by pointing them in the wrong direction.” You expect a triumphant smirk, a look of disdain on his face for tricking the stupid hero. But as you glance at him one last time, you see something surprising. He’s smirking at you, yes, but there’s something underneath. A look of possessiveness, screaming that you belong to him now and that there’s no escape. Rather than fear, you feel a bolt of excitement run through your body.

But the look is gone as quick as it comes, and he’s turning away from you towards a window before he pauses yet again. “Oh yeah, don’t forget this - my little hero.” The mocking tone behind the word hero is clear, as if he no longer quite believes you fall under that title anymore.

To be honest, you don’t even believe it. Not after fucking him, not after letting him go.

He throws something at you, and you catch it effortlessly before glancing down at the object you’re holding: your purse. You glance up to ask him why he made sure to throw it at you, but he’s already gone, window swinging open in the breeze. You walk over and close it before heading out and back into the ballroom.

The place is utter chaos, people running everywhere and trying to organize search parties across the mansion to find the breach. Everybody seems out in full force, security and unmasked heroes all working together.

“Excuse me, hero,” you turn around to see Midnight herself walk up to you, and you instantly feel a sense of unease that she knows something. “Is there anything wrong?”

“No, nothing wrong. I was just trying to figure out what was going on.”

“There’s been a villain attack, but we’re not sure why yet. Have you seen anything strange?”

You give a quick nod. “No, I haven’t seen anything. Sorry I can’t be of more help.”

Her gaze turns sharp, taking in your disheveled state, your torn dress, and you know you’re about to be discovered. She’s about to say something and then you’re done for, thrown out of hero society for good.

But she simply smiles at you and then turns to walk away.

It isn’t until after she’s already long gone that you realize your neck is covered in hickies.

After a few more questions, you’re free to leave. You wait until you’re all the way home before you remember you’re still clutching your purse, recalling how deliberate it was that he threw it to you. And so you check it, unsurprised to find a note scrawled with hasty writing. What does surprise you, however, is the way it makes you smile.

You can find me at this location. If you’re ready to be free from hero society, then meet me there.

This isn’t actually an option. You’re mine now. Don’t keep me waiting.

PS: Plus, I still have your panties.

✧༝┉┉┉┉┉˚*❋ ❋ ❋*˚┉┉┉┉┉༝✧

Tags: @thewheezingwyvern, @vixen-scribbles, @ttamaki, @lildreamer93​, @kittygonyan, @bat-eclecticwolfbouquet-love, @daedaep69, @heyybrittannia, @groovydreamertrash, @hisoknen, @chou-maitresse, @togasknifes, @kingtamakimurder, @shigaraki-is-my-master, @kittycatkrissa, @reinawritesbnha, @yanderart, @drxwsyni​, @dabilove27, @fae-father, @anxietyplusultra, @flutterfalla​, @angmarwitch, @nereida19, @dabis-kitten, @bakugos-cumsock, @yumeneji

[protectwoc]

why all reylos are racist

y’all can go ahead and cancel me now because some of you are not going to like what i have to say and i am completely okay with that.

this recent gq interview with john boyega has incensed me. hearing all the things he went through, from disney and from “fans” and with no support from anyone… i’m livid. sometimes when i think about it for too long i start shaking, i’m so furious. and the response from the reylo fandom has infuriated me to a degree i honestly didn’t know was possible.

some of you may have seen my recent tumblr rampage. it’s reylo bullying hours here on my blog, and i’m not sorry either. one person threatened to post screenshots of my comments, which like… okay? i know what the fuck i said, it wasn’t that long ago. in fact i was going to include the screenshots in this post right here, but they blocked me before i had the chance. sorry. i’m sure somebody has them. anyway…

over the past two days in the star wars fandom we have seen something unprecedented: an outpouring of support for john boyega. both reylos and anti-reylos have joined forces to voice support for john in the wake of the gq interview (and the blm protests, let’s be real, some of y’all would not have given half a fuck if it wasn’t suddenly cool to be antiracist). and this showing of unity is one of the most rage-inducing things i’ve ever seen in a fandom (which is saying something; i have seen some shit).

reylo fandom, full offense intended, but where the fuck do you get off? you’re supporting john now? where was this support when tfa came out and you couldn’t stand the thought of him next to your white-girl-self-insert? where was it when tlj came out and your boy ryan completely sidelined him? where was it earlier this fucking year when y’all twisted a harmless joke (like yall haven’t spent years writing reylo-throne-room-sex-meta BULLSHIT) and ignored the vile racist shit coming from your own fav’s mouth? but you’re supporting him now? now that being antiracist is trendy? fuck outta here with that bullshit.

your fandom is the reason for the vast majority of the absolutely subhuman treatment john has endured over the last few years. your fandom influenced ryan (yes i know what his name is) to write tlj the way he did, you have behaved indefensibly here on tumblr.hell writing and drawing and fantasizing about all sorts of racist bullshit, and y’all have STAYED in his twitter mentions spewing hatred seven ways to sunday. but NOW, without a shred of self-reflection, you’re supporting him? now his experiences are valid?

the way that your fandom refuses to take accountability for its actions makes me see red. y’all stay on some “not all reylos” nonsense and i am SICK OF IT. i’m only gonna say this once, and i want you to hear me: you cannot be a reylo and be “antiracist”. you cannot participate in a fandom that has behaved the way yours has and say “blm, uwu acab.” you can’t. like do you think black people are dumb? that we can’t see right through you? we can.

“but rae,” i hear you whining. “you’re gonna say just because i like two characters together i’m a racist?” and of course not. that would be ludicrous. i think just because you knowingly engage and participate in a fandom that has racism encoded in its dna, you’re a racist. i think because y’all are in bed with racist harassers, racist trolls, and racist content creators, you’re a racist. that’s what the fuck i think. y’all lost the right to “it’s just a ship” me the instant you dragged john boyega into this.

here’s an example: i watched tfa about three days after it came out. i watched the first half, saw the obvious relationship set up between finn and rey, and thought, “aw, cute.” then i watched kylo and rey fight, watch him offer to teach her, and thought, “... interesting.”

when i got home i checked tumblr for finnrey content, saw the outpouring of love from black fans, all the cute fanart and fics blooming, and smiled. then, slowly, guiltily, i searched “reylo.”

BOOM. racism. the things i saw in the tag that night are tattooed on my brain. reylos rejoicing about the obvious rey/kyle pairing because “sw would never put her with that monkey finn”. calling him an “oaf”, “useless”, “bumbling”, “stupid”. reylos joking about how “when they talked about the Dark side, [they] didn’t think they meant that kind of dark.” “woke” reylos pretending to ship stormpilot in an obvious ploy to get finn away from kylo. and in between all of that, cute ship art. fun fics. talented gif makers. and nobody saying shit about the reprehensible behavior going on in their tag.

reylo is built on a foundation of racism. from that first week, racism has been woven into the fabric of your fandom, and it’s been going unchecked. and i don’t mean calling out other reylos. that’s not enough. i mean taking actual steps. y’all have been sitting in a cesspool of racism for five years, and its time for you to get the fuck out or shut the fuck up about being an “ally”. y’all need to leave this fandom.

don’t agree? here’s another story. in 2017, when i still watched supergirl (before i grew taste) i shipped karamel. for those of you who don’t know, karamel is the ship of kara zor-el (supergirl) and mon-el, her second love interest. when supergirl was moved to the cw for its second season, the decision was made to abruptly end her romance with jimmy olsen, played by mecahd brooks (a black man) and replace him with mon-el, played by chris wood, a white man, who was revealed to be, among other things, an alien slaveowner, as well as a playboy and all-around terrible person. and i shipped them. look, i’m not defending myself, but i never really bought the chemistry between jimmy and kara. even though mon-el’s introduction and the way that they carelessly disregarded kara’s feelings for jimmy made me uncomfortable, i thought the way melissa played her attraction to chris wood was more believable (and again, i’m not defending myself, but they are now married so it’s not like i was wrong). so i shipped them. simple as that, right?

well, no. not really. because the inherent racism in the way the writers wrote out her admittedly sweet romance with a black man in favor of a white slaveowner jerk kept bothering me. and finally i decided that it made me too uncomfortable to participate in. i never really reblogged any karamel fandom stuff, but i completely divorced myself from the fandom. i stopped reading karamel fic, and i switched to reblogging exclusively jimmy/kara content until the fandom died out/i stopped watching. i made a choice that real life racism is more important to me than a fucking fandom or a ship, and then i acted accordingly. simple as that.

and i’m not saying you have to stop liking the reylo dynamic. i still like the chemistry between kara and mon-el. i’ve shipped problematic ships before (bamon comes to mind) and i don’t think there’s anything wrong with that (to a point). but there’s a difference between liking a ship dynamic and engaging and contributing to a fan culture of racism. you have to stop participating in the fandom. y’all are in bed with people indistinguishable from confederate-flag-waving-all-lives-matter-touting racists and you don’t feel the need to get out of that environment? there comes a certain point where you have to decide if fandom bullshit is more important to you than fighting racism, and unfortunately, reylos have chosen wrong. that, ladies and gentlemen, is why all reylos are racist, regardless of what they say. roll credits.

except i have more to say, so i’m gonna say it. first of all, i’m not trying to hold myself up as some kind of paragon of virtue. i’m not holier-than-thou because all my ships are “woke” or whatever. chemistry is subjective, and we’re all going to be attracted to different ship dynamics, and there’s nothing wrong with that in theory. what matters is the execution. i finally had to say one day, “you know, this ship and the racist baggage it carries is actually less important to me than battling systemic racism on every level, including the fandom level”. y’all thought being antiracist was gonna be easy? that you wouldn’t have to make some actual changes, to make some actual sacrifices? sorry not sorry to disappoint. and if i, a normal-ass person with flaws and problematic thinking that i’m still dealing with and the whole ine yards, can make that decision, then other people should be required to as well.

(what really irks me is that the karamel fandom wasn’t even really that bad! i definitely could have gotten away with being a karamel stan in 2017. thankfully the supercat and supercorp shippers were doing the lord’s work and bullying them into submission (don’t think i’m letting y’all off the hook either, y’all have got some racism to deal with as well but that’s an essay for another day) but like most of the racism happened at the writing level; the fandom itself wasn’t engaging in racist clownery on the regular. but like the reylos are. y’all see racist bullshit coming from your neighbor, fav fic writer, artist, gif maker, whatever, and don’t say shit? don’t feel the need to distance yourself from them? gtfoh.)

i made this argument earlier when i was on my rampage (which i’m still on btw so don’t clown in my inbox, you will get your shit rocked) but i’m going to make it again because i feel like its important to note. when i pointed out that existing in the reylo fandom while you are aware of its racism makes you complicit in that racism, a white reylo told me earlier that (paraphrasing, my memory’s not as good as it used to be and i did mention that they’d blocked me) “you don’t solve a problem like systemic racism by ignoring it. leaving the fandom would be allowing it to happen.” when i pointed out that that’s police officer rhetoric almost verbatim, she (a white reylo) admonished me (a black woman) not to compare police brutality to a “ship war.” lmao.

look, clearly y’all need a refresher on what “systemic” means. it means, quite simply, that there are systems, large and small, allow for racism to exist, and it also means that allowing for racism to exist on the small scale means expecting it on a large one. like you think police officers spring fully formed from the head with racist ideals already ingrained? no! they learn it and learn to justify it with “well just because my friend made a racist joke doesn’t make me a racist” and “just because i laughed at my friend’s using a racist term in my video game doesn’t make me a racist” and “just because my friend is a racist doesn’t mean i’m a racist” and then we have people watching their coworkers kneel on a man’s back for 8 minutes with no remorse. i’m not gonna solve police brutality by fighting reylos on tumblr, but fandom racism is real racism with consequences on our world, and i don’t tolerate ANY type of racism. and the fact that you are so willing to not just tolerate it but justify it should say something to you.

and not all reylos are like this. similar to cops, good reylos don’t last. i have seen people grow so disgusted by the racism in the reylo fandom that they publicly turned their backs on it, and those reylos i respect. you’ve heard of “the only good cop is an ex-cop” well get ready for “the only good reylo is an ex-reylo”.

(and also like far be it from me to justify a cop but one could at least say they have their livelihoods to think about (not like they couldn’t just pick a nonmurderous profession but i digress) but you reylos can’t even choose between taking a stance against the hateful and unjustified bullying of a man who had the audacity to… get a job (?)... over a ship? come on now.)

the point of all this is, for all their posturing about “being antiracist” and “fuck 12” and “support john boyega”, reylos have decided that a relationship between two fictional people is more important than all the black and brown people who are hurt by that decision and the consequences of that decision. and before y’all pull some “b-but there are POC reylos!” (stop fucking using poc as an adjective, its a noun, it stands for person of color, please use it as such) internalized racism is a thing. busting out your token “reylo of color” (see how easy that was?) is not going to change my mind. all reylos are complicit in the racism of their peers, and being complicit makes you culpable. full stop.

and that is why the public support of john boyega from the reylo fandom has me seeing red. renounce your fandom or keep that man’s name out of your mouth. anyway, this was long and ranty and entirely stream-of-consciousness and i’m refusing to edit it so it’s probably completely incomprehensible to anyone besides me but if you made it this far thanks for reading ig. all reylos are racist, blm, fuck 12, acab, stan john boyega, don’t clown in my inbox unless you’re coming to bully me for being a karamel shipper, which i deserve (or do, i couldn’t give less of a fuck). good night.

[ourloveisforthelovely]

In Love and Death 6

Harry Potter AU

Link to Part 5 

Pairings: Regulus Black x Reader 

Rating: M

________

Evan lay looking up at the ceiling. He hadn’t moved in over half an hour. Dolohov leaned over to Rodolphus Lestrange.

“Should we poke him or something? Is he dead?”

Rodolphus rolled his eyes.

“He’s blinking, idiot. Rosier, it's been 30 minutes, can you get yourself together?”

Evan sat up running a hand through his sandy blonde hair. He scowled angrily at his two former associates. Both men appeared a bit bored and put out with his reaction.

“I am sorry that I am boring the lot of you with the news that my baby is having a child. I am going to be a grandfather at 20. There is something fucked up about that.”

Dolohov held a hand up.

“You're technically not 20.”

“I DIDN’T ASK FOR YOUR INPUT!”

Evan yelled. Rodolphus held up a hand.

“What?”

Evan snapped. Rodolphus shrugged.

“Y/n technically isn’t a baby. She’s an 18-year-old auror that almost took my head off. Y/n is vicious. She would be good on our side but we all know that isn’t going to happen.”

Evan’s wand was out before Rodolphus could say a word. He pointed the wand right at his friend and muttered “crucio.” Evan was not going to deal with this shit from his own friends. He was dealing with enough torture from his former best friend and daughter. The last thing that Evan needed was help from anyone else.

(meanwhile)

Regulus sat at the dining room table thumbing through a book. He glanced down at his watch curiously. You had been called out for a job the previous night and had not returned. Regulus had expected you home before now and was beginning to get worried. It didn’t help that you didn’t answer the stupid cell phone that Regulus still hated.

“There you are. You are a hard guy to find.”

Regulus glanced up to see Sirius standing in the doorway. Neither brother had said a word to the other in a few days and it hadn’t bothered Regulus one bit. Regulus felt a lot better since he had gotten his feelings off of his chest. Years of holding in how he felt about Sirius had finally escaped.

To Sirius’ displeasure, Regulus said nothing. His eyes went back to the book in front of him acting as though Sirius didn’t exist. Sirius stood a moment before sitting down across from Regulus.

“You are going to talk to me. I’ll be so annoying that you’ll sink to my level like a rock! I don’t know what makes you think that you are so much better than me. I asked you to come with me that night but you wouldn’t leave mum. You are a spoiled mummy’s boy who would do anything that they told you. I shouldn't be surprised though. You would never give James or any of my friends a chance. You were too busy with your holier than thou friends who were all a bunch of pureblood snoots.”

Regulus leaned back in his chair.

“I am hearing a lot of yous but not a lot of me. You, my dear brother, are a fine one to talk about someone being arrogant. Now stop posturing me and go away. I’m busy.”

Sirius smirked.

“Look at that! Your power of speech has been renewed. What are you doing anyway?”

“None of your business.”

Sirius watched as Regulus’ eyes flickered to his watch.

“Waiting on Y/n, huh? I’m sure she is just fine. I never thought that I would see the day that you would go gaga over a girl. To be honest, we all thought that you were asexual or something. I don’t think that I ever saw you talk to a girl.”

Regulus swallowed back the rage that was beginning to build.

“That right there shows that you know nothing about me. You don’t know about Ambrosia or any of the other girls that I dated. You were too busy being a manwhore. Now, as I said, leave me alone.”

Sirius shook his head.

“No, we are fixing our problems!”

“Somethings can’t be fixed.”

Regulus replied. Sirius jumped up.

“Stop being a control freak and listen to me!”

(meanwhile)

You stood outside the door waiting for all of the security enchantments to let you in. Tonks had been mostly quiet since she started throwing up in the neighbor's bushes. Your eyes flickered over to your best friend whose color closely resembled the half-rotten lime that was in the refrigerator.

“I think that you are going to be on desk duty soon.”

You commented as Tonks looked up.

“Ugh, no. I do not want to be on desk duty while you are out running around having fun.”

You scoffed.

“I wouldn’t consider being thrown against a wall by some overgrown death eater fun but if you insist.”

Tonks smirked as she laid her head on your shoulder.

“Watching you quote Supernatural was fun. I quote My name is Y/n Rosier. Prepare to die. That is going to be a classic.”

You shrugged.

“Good times, huh? Do me a solid and don’t tell any member of the male race in this house what happened last night. Regulus is already tense enough without me telling him that my head bashed into some brick. I mean, yeah, we beat that guy up and threw him in a cell with his name on it but if Reggie finds out that I got hurt...he will want to go to work with me.”

Tonks knew that you were right. Regulus was protective enough of you without her help.

“I won’t. Now come on, I really need to make a potion for my stomach trouble.”

The both of you stepped inside to hear Sirius and Regulus yelling random obscenities at each other. Your eyes rolled over to your friend.

“Here we go.”

The two of you quickly walked into the dining room where Regulus and Sirius had destroyed the room trying to hex each other. It looked like after destroying the room, they decided to beat the crap out of each other seemed to be the next best thing to try. Kreacher meanwhile, stood in the corner with a dustpan and a broom muttering about Sirius being a filthy blood traitor and starting everything. There was also something about "his poor mistresses treasures being broken."

“What the hell is going on around here?”

You snapped. Both Regulus and Sirius didn’t turn to look at Tonks nor yourself.

“We are just playing.”

Sirius replied.

“Go away, love. We are dealing with a problem.”

Regulus added. You blinked a few times before quickly going back into “work mode.” Tonks had started to try to break it up but you gently pushed her away and shoved yourself between both brothers.

“I said that is enough...both of you.”

You said in an authoritative tone that you typically had to take with morons that you were about to lock up.

“We aren’t done.”

Sirius hissed. You turned your attention to the elder brother.

“Sirius, don’t make me shove you in that other room. You know that I can too.”

Regulus laughed.

“Get shoved around by a girl, do you? That has to hurt your male pride.”

Your attention went back to your own lover. His eyes were wild and he looked as if he was ready to start letting the hexes fly again.

“I said ENOUGH! Regulus, Sirius knows that you think he is a selfish asshole. Sirius, Regulus knows that you think he is a selfish little prat. We don’t need to hear it again.”

You turned your attention back to Regulus.

“Come on, Reggie.”

Regulus turned his attention back to you. He felt a little embarrassed that it was you that had to come in and stop the ridiculousness between Sirius and himself.

“Where are we going?”

He asked, softly. You pulled your coat back on before tossing him his.

“My grandmothers. She asked to see me and I figured it would be a great time to give her the gift that we talked about.’

It was Sirius’ turn to frown. You going around your pureblood family was a horrible idea in the making. What if Evan was there?

“Um, why don’t you two go see other people? What is the gift? Did you buy her an urn to put your mother’s ashes in?”

Tonks elbowed Sirius in the side as you turned. You surprisingly laughed.

“Good one. Grandmother would just put her in a trash bag if she was given the choice. The gift is me dating another pureblood. She simply won’t know what to do with herself. We are going because I need to get information on my father.”

“But...it's dangerous.”

Sirius commented. You smiled and wrapped your hand through Regulus’ in hopes to calm his temper that was still raging.

“Between Regulus and myself, we will be just fine. Go deal with Dora, she has been puking in the neighbors' bushes. You or Remus caused this problem..go fix it.”

Sirius winced before leaving the room.

(Twenty minutes later)

You stood outside of your grandmother’s door with a sigh. Regulus watched you from the corner of his eye as you raised your hand to knock a few times but stopped. In the few months that the two of you had been a couple, you had barely spoken to your family.

“We are going to be standing here all day if you don’t knock already.”

Regulus hissed. You turned to your boyfriend.

“I don’t like my family.”

Regulus smirked. He leaned down to kiss the top of your head.

“What a coincidence. I hate mine too. Maybe it's a good thing that we can’t have kids. They would be making our lives a lot worse. Granted, most of my family is dead except my stupid brother. My mother’s portrait could screech from her painting. That would be miserable.”

You looked down at your feet for a minute.

“We can always keep trying. I know a lot of people who weren’t supposed to be able to have kids and when they gave up...boom they were pregnant.”

Regulus rolled his eyes. He wrapped his hand around yours and pulled you to him.

“We don’t need to follow in Tonks and those dorks that she’s dating’s footsteps to be happy. We have been happy just fine without this conversation not coming up. Besides, I like being able to have my way with you whenever I damn well please.”

Regulus was relieved when you smiled.

“You’re right. We are going to be just fine. When we get home, we can scare the crap out of your brother. Might as well get this over with.”

You finally knocked on the door before stepping back and intertwining your hand with Regulus’ waiting hand. The moment the door opened, your grandmother’s house elf “Daisy” stood on the other side. She looked up at you with a sour expression that the unfriendly creature wore so well. You couldn’t help but think that Kreacher and Daisy would really hit it off. They could probably compare notes on which family member that they hated the most.

“Mistress Y/n...a long time its been.”

You nodded.

“Yes, it has. I would like to see grandmother, Daisy.”

Daisy nodded and led you down a dark hallway. You kept your hand locked around Regulus as the darkness of the home soured your mood. The Rosier family home was as gloomy and depressing as the Black family home.

“Mistress, you have a visitor.”

Daisy announced as you stepped into the sitting room. Your grandmother sat with a knitting pattern in front of her. Her blue eyes were clearly surprised to see you and even more surprised to see Regulus.

“Y/n...Regulus...how is this possible?”

She asked, standing up. It had been years since she learned of Regulus Black’s death. Evan had been a wreck when he found out that his best friend “died” now here he stood looking just as he had the last time that he was seen.

“I can’t answer that, Mrs. Rosier.”

Regulus answered. Your grandmother was pleased enough with the response. Stranger things had happened over the past few weeks.

“Well, sit.”

Mrs. Rosier stated before returning back to her chair. She watched as you sat down beside Regulus. It didn’t take her having years of experience on this earth to know that the two of you were a couple.

“So, Y/n do you have something to tell me?”

You knew that this was coming.

“Regulus and I are a couple, grandmother.”

Your grandmother immediately looked pleased as a plum. This was clearly the news that she had been waiting to hear. After you became an auror and “let the family down” it was wonderful news to discover that you were dating a pureblood man that was decent and worthy (in your grandmother’s eyes).

“I am actually aware. Your father came to see me.”

Your grandmother smiled when your face went serious.

“He doesn't seem very pleased with the news, however.”

She added as your attention went to Regulus.

“I know, grandmother. He is having a bit of a cow over it.”

Your grandmother picked up her knitting needles and went back to work.

“You have to understand, Y/n, the last time that your father saw you was many years ago when you were a little girl. Finding out that you are an adult with a lover has to be hard for him to process.”

You frowned.

“So hard to process that he went and killed my mother.”

Your grandmother scowled at you.

“Yes, a real tragedy. Tell Evan that I said hello and he owes me five minutes of civilized conversation that doesn’t result in us trying to hex each other.”

Your grandmother stood up. Her displeased expression returned.

“Y/n, it's time that you stop this nonsense that you have been doing. You are a Rosier and it's time that you start acting like one. Your grandfather would roll over in his grave if he knew that you were an auror who is locking up our friends. Leave the room, Y/n. I want to talk to Regulus alone.”

You waited until Regulus gently patted your leg before standing up and walking out.

Mrs. Rosier closed the door behind her before pouring a glass of whiskey and handing it to Regulus.

“What are your intentions?”

“Intentions?”

Regulus questioned, softly. Mrs. Rosier smiled. She was used to Regulus Black’s silence. From the time that the boy was born, Mrs. Rosier had always adored Regulus Black’s shy nature.

“What do you intend to do with my granddaughter?”

Regulus had a feeling where this was going.

“You can tell Evan that I love her more than life itself. That should clearly state my intentions.”

Mrs. Rosier grinned.

“My son is convinced that you have abandoned the dark lord. I do hope that you remember the oath that you took when you accepted that mark on your arm.”

Regulus frowned.

“The dark lord is dead, Mrs. Rosier. What's left of our side is being swept up and sent off to Azkaban. You may want to tell Evan that he better watch his back just like I am having to watch mine.”

Mrs. Rosier smiled coldly.

“My dear boy...it looks like Y/n and yourself are being kept in the dark. The dark lord is back and strengthening with each day. Maybe you should consult with Y/n’s little friend Harry Potter about it. He, after all, saw everything and it's been all over the daily prophet. It makes sense that you didn’t know. Being an inferi for all of these years results in one not knowing all that is happening.”

Regulus sat taking in Mrs. Rosier’s words with a dark expression on his face. Was she right?

“I guess we shall see.”

Regulus commented before standing up.

“It was a pleasure, Mrs. Rosier. I promised, Y/n a date.”

________

@fairywriter-oracle

@amelie-black

@swinginsoulbailiffrascal

@velveteencurls

@realgaytrash

@sunles

@hello-love06

@li0nh34rt

@tas898

@marichromatic

@maggioli-m

@emiwrites3reads

@brokencasbutt67-writer

@authoressskr

@fandom-trash-worth-it

@hankypranky

@summer-novak

@shadows-and-padlocked-hearts

@untoldshortsofthefandoms

@stuckinsaudi1

@knight-of-gleefulness

@sprnaturallover

@mycuddlycorner

@wontlookaway

@shitfaceddaniel

[collecting-stories]

Playing Pretend - Kiara Carrera

Request: Could you do 48 68 and 44 with Kie 

A/N: I’m gonna make this a two part fic

Outer Banks Masterlist

⚢ ⚢ ⚢ ⚢

You reminded yourself, for the umpteenth time in row, that you were doing this just to fuck with your aunt. Your super-conservative, card carrying republican, holier than thou, aunt who was finally getting married in her forties and had made the crucial mistake of giving you a plus one to her wedding. 

She told your parents that she was trying to be nice, because their weren’t a lot of other teenagers in your family, but you knew what she was actually trying to do. She had been hassling you about dating since you started high school, claiming that you needed to meet a nice boy, preferably from a church, who you could set a future with. Or, in layman’s terms, start having kids as soon as you graduate. 

So you used your plus one and asked the one person that would have your aunt going into cardiac arrest on her wedding day. It was, subsequently, the only person you could imagine wanting to take too. What better motivation was there for getting dressed up that knowing Kiara was going to see you looking this good. 

You’d asked her the day after you got the invitation in the mail. Months in advance. Just in case you would have to find a backup friend to go with you. JJ wouldn’t be nearly as effective though on the plus you didn’t have a raging crush on him. 

“All you have to do is just pretend to be my date.”

“And get all dressed up.” 

“Just wear your midsummers dress or something, it’ll be fine.”

It would’ve been fine except Kiara wasn’t trying to be fine. She wanted to look perfect. She knew this was all just a revenge plot to get back at your father’s sister for being the literal worst person but she also knew that she’d been crushing on you since she joined up with the pogues and there was no way she was going to let the opportunity to impress you slip away. 

She showed up to the wedding doing her best Rihanna, red silk dress with a slit that bordered on inappropriate. You looked sunny and ethereal waiting outside for her and she looked like literal fire and suddenly your mouth was dry watching her walk across the parking lot to you. 

“Hi,” she wrapped her arms around your neck, pulling you close and kissing your cheek, “you look beautiful.”

“So do you. You look incredible.” 

Kiara smiled. She could do incredible. “So is it like, just your aunt?”

“It’s my dad’s whole family. Plus the guy she’s marrying, his whole family too, they’re all assholes.” You explained, walking inside with her. The resort they had booked up was small but it had an indoor and an outdoor pool. Kiara had left her bag in her car to grab after the ceremony and take up to your room cause she was staying over with you for the night. “Could you hold my hand?” You asked as you reached the doors to the lobby. 

“Of course, what is your pretend girlfriend for if not to hold your hand?” Kiara whispered, taking your hand in hers and squeezing gently. 

She let you lead her down the hall toward the courtyard where the wedding was set up, eyes drifting over you as you walked ahead of her. Kiara was the first to call one of the boys out when they stared but she was guilty of it now, watching you and thinking how incredibly difficult it was going to be to share a room with you tonight. 

It had been difficult enough saying yes to coming here for the weekend. Sure, she wanted to help you out, but getting to act like a couple only to have to go home and go back to just friends was killing her. 

“Okay, the wedding is through those doors,” you said, stopping at the glass doors that led out to the court yard and turning back to look at her. “I’m kinda nervous.” 

“Hey, there’s nothing to be nervous about, look, I’m right here and honestly this is such a power move I’m so proud of you.” 

“Thanks,” you laughed, squeezing her hand, “I’m really glad you’re here.” 

“Anytime you need a date I’m your girl.” Kiara kissed your cheek again. 

“Okay.” 

-

The ceremony was an over the top display of their close-mindedness and you were acutely aware of the people who kept looking back at you and Kiara, whispering to each other. Even your aunt kept throwing glances your way, no doubt pissed that you had managed to both upstage her on her wedding day and flaunt your queerness all in the same breath. 

Kiara kept the act going through the ceremony. She leaned into you while she watched them, whispering about stuff in your ear, and giving you little kisses every time your aunt looked over. At one point she had pushed the hem of your dress up just enough to lay her hand on your bare thigh. Goosebumps broke out over your skin at her touch and you couldn’t help imagining the two of you actually here as a couple. 

“I cannot wait for this to be over,” you whispered, tilting your head back slightly to lean in close to Kiara. Your mouth almost brushed her ear and she bit her lip at the feeling of your breath on her skin and your lips just ghosting over her. It was a crime that she was feeling this turned on in public by a simple whisper. 

Unable to resist, Kiara tilted her head forward just enough to kiss your neck. You sat upright, turning to look at her in surprise. 

“Sorry, couldn’t stop myself.” She shrugged it off and you felt your face warm up at the way she smiled at you. 

“It’s good.” You replied, smiling at her before turning back to the ceremony.  

The soft touches continued but you thought maybe something had changed about them. The way Kiara tucked a loose piece of hair behind your ear or the way you wrapped your arms around her waist, when you both turned to watch them walk down the aisle. You rested your chin on her shoulder and kissed her cheek before you released her, staining her skin the same red as her dress because of your lipstick. 

“Sorry,” you apologized when you caught sight of it, “I smudged you.” 

“It’s okay, I’ll fix it when we go up to the room.” 

Before you could exit your row of seats your grandmother was there, being escorted out by an uncle she stopped right in front of you and Kiara, disapproving look exactly what you were hoping for all along. 

“You should be ashamed of yourself, this is your aunt’s wedding. It’s a family day not a place for you to flaunt yourself like you’re in a club. You look like a slut and so does your friend.” 

“Thank you.” Kiara cut in before you could say anything, grabbing your hand and speed walking both of you out the doors. 

“Oh my god, I am dead when we walk into that reception,” you laughed, following her out to her car to grab her bag. 

You were skipping cocktail hour and the ability for any of your other family members to say anything to you, heading upstairs instead for an hour to lay around and probably take a million selfies. 

Bag in hand, you both slipped into the elevator and hit the button for the second floor before anyone else could join you. You slumped against the wall and Kiara laughed, dropping her overnight to the floor for a brief second. But the second floor was only so far away and the doors opened before you knew it, ejecting you both into the hallway. 

“You really do look beautiful, don’t let your grandma or anyone else tell you otherwise.” Kiara said, stopping you in the hallway before you could walk down to your room. 

“Hey Kie,”

“Yeah?”

“Can I kiss you?” You asked. You weren’t sure if she was feeling the same way that you were but you couldn’t deny that you had feelings for her any longer.  

“It’s just us,” Kiara said, testing the waters, “there’s no one to trick.”

“Yeah I know. Can I kiss you as my real date and not just my friend?”  

“Yeah,” Kiara nodded, her hands already grasping your face as she closed the space between the two of you. She figured the red dress had done exactly what she bought it for but you would’ve kissed her regardless and you knew that.  

-

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[gerardwritestuff]

May 7th 2018

I wonder what happened that day.

I wrote something in phases.

If you want a written entry on what happened I'll tell you.

But only you, I don't think I can trust anybody with this. Plus, no one wants to help me with it concerning my best interests so there's not much done with it.

Well for starters, you want the truth. Right?

You want the absolute truth but how am I warranted to give it to you? What can you do for me that's not euthanasia or some fucked up solution to helping me? What's your grand scheme that's supposedly shrouded in mystery that you can't tell me?

I don't know where to start.

"I think they can help. No, they can't."

It's a cycle.

This carousel of indecision had me so tied up in my own skin, I couldn't trust a soul. I felt like I was bound to perish and not a single person would help my cause.

You think you can help, but then you're faced with something much bigger than yourself and that's when you'll coward out because no one will ever want to take the stand for someone else.

Because that's love.

And no one's big enough to accept that. We shroud ourselves on the façade of help and care but people only care enough for you to stop being their problem after a while.

Pain is a real motivator; and I mean real, unfiltered, physical, raw pain. And the human body loves routine. So when you make pain a part of your routine your brain gives you an outlet.

And that's exactly what happened.

I lost my goddamn mind, at least I think I did. People love telling you things to shield you. No one wants to tell you the truth. It hurts. I thought I was doing the right thing all this time by telling people what they wanted to hear, but the truth is I only played the role of being this useless pawn in the game of life I've been living.

Now read between the lines.

Oh yeah, I remember, end of my second year of college.

Things were going all right, to say the least, I'd been having a blast and I'd thought I'd been doing alright but then I went to that damn counselor.

He gave me an alternative to religion. Told me that I could pour my heart and soul into this idea that everything around me was a message from God. That God was talking to me through the things around me. What the fuck.

My life changed completely.

People say schizophrenia isn't something that one could call an observable science. You can't make sense of it. Hell, it's been 2000 years and we still haven't made anything of it. Not like we're close to cracking the code to the human genome or anything of the sort.

I don't know what to tell you. I felt scared at the start. It was like the world was a chasm of wrath and evil and that everything around me screamed for an escape. But really, who was to blame? You can't expect one to live their lives normally after the truth comes out.

That's insanity. Isn't it?

There'd been a couple of things to contribute to this episode. I'd become shrouded in the fact that whatever I'd witnessed till now had been an amalgamation of my memories and that my perception wasn't driven by inference but by incredulity. The more I got lost in my thoughts, the farther away my sense of discernment drove me. Until then, I'd only ever seen life through the eyes of a fawn, and in this forest, there hadn't been a lot going on. Well, at least for me, that is.

I looked on with disbelief as everyone around me playing this game of pretense would never read between the lines. I fell to the ground thinking of how much I'd lived through basking in a bath of whim and false security. It suffocated me, pushing hard against my back as I sank face-first into the dirt. Nothing was ever the same, because nothing was ever as it seemed.

We try so hard to forget. It helps us, comforts us. We do it every day, as we see the crippled on the street and pay a deaf ear, to be guiltless about how destitute they seem; it makes us feel powerful, to know that if we never remember the pain we once went through, we'd be okay. We hope we will someday.

But that's not the point I'm ever going to try to make. I'm here to tell you that what happened to me, wasn't an option neither an accident. I'm certain things turned out the way they did because nothing would have given me a way out until I reached that point of utter desperation.

What if they can hear my thoughts?

What if they know exactly how much of a monster I really am?

Once I'd entertained that thought in my head, it fed on my psyche like a virus. I let it get a hold of me and very soon I wasn't acting like myself anymore. I didn't know what to do except paint a picture, a picture that made it seem like I knew what I was doing. Like I knew what I was talking about and had me acting like I knew what I was messing with.

Commence a feeling of awe and daring carefree. Something in me had cracked like a glass rod and my sense of self-preservation hadn’t left. It was more toward being swept under the carpet or shoved in the back of a car.

I was playing spectator now because someone else was at the wheel.

And God did it scare me. It made me a complete fanatic. Buzzing my hair and preaching about shit I had no clue about?! I was way in over my head, acting like a prophet no less, and even after I'd gotten over it, it never really left. I needed the world to know that I was losing it, and that it made me special, and that it drove me to believe things. Things that were driven by my convictions and not my real feelings. I drove my family and friends away, made them afraid of who I’d become, and now, I couldn’t be more sorry for acting so numb.

I really needed a change, I didn’t want this to be a one-off thing. I couldn’t believe anyone. When they told me that they were thinking up a solution that was the best for me, I saw it as a ruse. In my head, they were just pretending to care because they were scared that I’d keep acting crazy and wouldn’t let up until my head had cleared.

But there was some good out of it, I guess. I’m not really sure. I can never really tell with all the castles in the air. But I’m glad this shit has blown over, and I’m better now. I hope I never go back to that holier-than-thou shit. I had a few demons that I’ve fought with. Those monsters are in the past now, they’ll turn up more often than not. But that won’t keep me in a whirl, I won’t let them. The future’s in my hands, the past is how I’ll forget them.

Then and only then will I realize,

That the real monsters never existed under my bed, they never did.

The real monsters exist right inside my feeble mind.

Black and white, followed by a question at the end of the reel.

But they never stop.

Days bleed into each other and the one thing you’re left with is the only place you started from.

To draw a line between determination and desperation.

To be able to feel like you needed something else from the mind-numbing regret that just enveloped you and continues to coalesce your being.

Make it stop.

Please, just make it stop.

[juju-on-that-yeet]

The Dangers of Showbiz

Whumptober 2020 Day 16: A Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day Prompt: Shoot The Hostage

Summary: Wilford and Bim are taken hostage by the day's Warfstache TV contestants, determine to get revenge for Wilford's many murders. Wilford is perfectly willing to enjoy the show - until Bim gets caught in the crossfire.

Warnings: Gun violence, blood and injury, non-main character death

Read on AO3 (Full Whumptober 2020 series)

Enjoy!

~

The newest crop of Warfstache Tonight contestants had seemed like ordinary, run-of-the-mill people in the background checks. Two men and one woman who were chosen to appear in today’s filming, Wilford hosting like usual and Bim helping out as an assistant. But the show had barely started before Wilford and Bim were knocked out and tied up beside each other, waking up to guns in their faces.

“Wh-What??” Bim exclaims, disoriented and terrified.

“It’s time for you to pay!” yells one of the men, bearded and holding a gun in Bim’s face.

“Both of you!” adds the lone woman, pointing her own gun at Wilford.

“What’s the meaning of this?” Wilford asks, annoyed, “This is so coming out of your paychecks.”

“Don’t play dumb,” sneers the second man, clean-shaven and standing close by, “You know what you’ve done.”

Wilford squints at the three people for several long seconds.

“Do I know any of you?” he asks, “How many of you did I date?”

“We’re the loved ones of the people you’ve murdered,” the bearded man growls, “Like my wife!”

“And my brother!” chimes in the woman.

“And my best friend,” finishes the clean-shaven man, “All of them and more, dead because of the two of you. Give us one good reason why we shouldn’t kill you both.”

“I have family too!” Bim cries, trying to squirm out of the ropes tying him and Wilford up, “I have two little brothers!”

“I had two younger brothers,” the woman snaps, “Until this psychopath killed one of them!” She thrusts her gun at Wilford, who is no longer annoyed, but a little amused.

“That’s rather rude to say, isn’t it?” Wilford asks amicably, “Just because I shoot people doesn’t mean I’m crazy!”

“Wilford!” Bim hisses, eyes wide and fearful, “Why aren’t you stopping this?? You could free us and let us escape without a second thought!”

“I just wanna see where this goes, Bimmy!” Wilford replies with a grin, “Besides, a little excitement every now and then is good for you! Gets the ol’ heart pumping.”

“Pumping our blood out all over the floor, you mean,” Bim groans, hanging his head.

“Both of you quiet!” shouts the bearded man, pressing his gun into Bim’s forehead. Bim yelps.

“Look, this is fun, but it’s not going to last,” Wilford says, still smiling. “We’re not the only ones in this building, you know. Someone’s probably going to hear us.”

“Then they can go down, too,” mutters the woman.

“Yeah!” puts in the clean-shaven man, “If they try to stop us, we have plenty of bullets.”

“Hey, are we sure about that?” the bearded man asks, no longer looking as angry as he did a moment ago.

“Getting cold feet, old sport?” Wilford asks.

“We can’t let anyone stop us,” snarls the woman, looking away from Wilford to glare at the bearded man. “Isn’t that what we talked about? For our loved ones, for your wife, we’re willing to do anything.”

“Does that include causing the deaths of more innocents?” retorts the bearded man, pulling away from Bim, “Random people walking in on us don’t deserve to die.”

“If they defend these monsters, they deserve it!” chimes in the clean-shaven man. He points accusingly at the bearded man. “You’re gonna fuck up our whole plan! Don’t you care about avenging your wife!?”

“She wouldn’t have wanted this!!” the bearded man shouts back, leaving Bim to stride angrily to the other man, “She’d never want me to kill an innocent person, no matter the reason!”

“And what about these guys, huh?” asks the woman, leaving Wilford to join the men, “Are you gonna chicken out of killing them too, because of some holier-than-thou bullshit attitude!?”

The three people start arguing, waving their guns around, and Bim takes the opportunity to twist his hands, trying to free himself. The rope is around his chest, wrists, and ankles, as it is for Wilford. But if he struggles enough, maybe he can free a hand or two and help himself escape while the others are distracted. Wilford, meanwhile, watches the growing argument with interest.

“I can’t believe you’re not breaking us out of this,” Bim mutters as he rolls his wrists against the rope.

“I’m enjoying the show!” Wilford replies, flashing Bim a grin. “C’mon, Bimmy, watch with me! Maybe one of them’ll shoot the other. My money’s on the lady shooting Beardy there if he doesn’t buck up.”

“Look, Wil,” Bim huffs, working harder at the rope, “Some of us don’t come back in two days after we die. Some of us take weeks, and some of us don’t come back at all. And I’m not interested in finding out which one I am, not today.” He keeps rolling his wrist and shifting his hands against the rope. “I think I’m almost there, just–”

“You don’t think I’m in this!?” yells the bearded man, so forcefully Bim jumps and freezes. “You don’t think I wanna see these fuckers dead??” the man continues, “Then here, I’ll prove it!” He looks at the tied-up pair and raises his gun.

Aims it at Bim.

“Wai–!” Bim cries.

But the gun goes off, and the bullet lodges into Bim’s abdomen, knocking the wind out of him. He gasps as blood starts to darken his suit. Wilford stares at Bim, eyes wide.

“See? I’m in this,” the bearded man says, panting like it took physical exertion to shoot Bim, “I’m in this. Let’s just get it over with.”

Bim slumps back. Blood starts to pool beneath him. He breathes weakly, unable to speak or even look over at Wilford. His face is pale. Wilford keeps staring at him, a bewildered expression on his face.

“Alright, good,” says the woman, satisfied. She turns towards Wilford. “Let’s get it over with, then.”

Wilford’s eyes narrow and his face goes stoic, all the playfulness gone in an instant. He looks sharply to the woman.

“Actually, I think this joke has run its course,” he says, steely. He snaps his fingers and the ropes around him and Bim disappear, making the trio gasp and raise their weapons at him. Bim slumps over on his side, still bleeding. Wilford stands, glaring. “This was a fun diversion while it lasted, but you’ve all quite overstayed your welcome.” A knife appears in his hand, and his eyes turn pink. “I must admit you’ve been very rude guests, and very poor contestants.” He grins, but it’s not happy and playful anymore. It’s cruel, angry, bloodthirsty. “This’ll be coming out of more than just your paychecks.”

He charges.

The group try to defend themselves, but they don’t stand a chance. Even three against one, even two guns against a single knife, it’s impossible to stop Wilford. His knife stabs into the bearded man’s head, swipes across the clean-shaven man’s chest, and nearly slices the woman’s neck right through. When Wilford rushes to Bim’s side, he’s covered in a layer of blood. It matches Bim, as the pool of blood beneath him has only gotten bigger. He’s bone white and barely conscious, one hand limply holding his stomach, futilely trying to stem the bleeding.

“Don’t worry, Bimmy, I took care of them,” Wilford murmurs, scooping Bim into his arms, “Brace yourself, now, we’re going through my void to get to the clinic.”

Fortunately for Bim’s already-beleaguered stomach but less so for the rest of him, Bim is out cold before Wilford even reaches his void.

~~~

Bim wakes up in the clinic with bandages over his stomach and painkillers in his brain. He blinks his eyes open to see Wilford sitting beside him. Wilford brightens immediately upon seeing Bim’s eyes on him, leaning in closer.

“Bim, you’re awake!” he exclaims, “How do you feel? What a day we’ve had, huh? Hey, while you were sleeping off your surgery, I got you this!” Wilford thrusts a card into Bim’s hand. It’s a sympathy card. The front has a watercolor nature scene and the words “Deepest Condolences” in cursive. The inside has text that’s been crossed out, and “Sorry I got you shot” is written in instead. “I couldn’t find any cards that truly fit the situation, but consider this an apology from me to you.”

Bim stares at the card. He stares at Wilford. Wilford stares back, smiling brightly.

Bim whacks Wilford in the head with the card.

“Ow, hey! What gives? I apologized, didn’t I??”

“You almost got me killed, you giant pink idiot!!”

“Yeah, but I didn’t!”

“You just sat back and let them keep us tied up–!”

“It was all in good fun–!”

“A card is not enough to make up–”

“Ow, ow, stop hitting me with–”

“You – ohh, ow, fuck…”

“See, you’re making yourself worse! Just calm down and stop hitting me with that card!”

“How dare you tell Bim Trimmer to calm down, you fucking piece of–”

Before long, Dr. Iplier steps into the room, attracted by the arguing. The pair are too busy yelling at each other to notice him. Dr. Iplier wonders for a moment if he should intervene, but then decides that surely Bim is fine for the moment if he can argue so fiercely with Wilford. Satisfied at his reasoning – and glad to have given himself an out – he exits the room as quietly as he entered, leaving Bim and Wilford to continue shouting at each other.

[xxisxxisxxis]

Gateway Drug | Part Fifty-Two

Wattpad

Word Count: 3.2k

Warning(s): explicit language, drug abuse, violence, sexual situations

Tag List: @unknownoblivion @sinningsixx @edwardtriggerhandzz @lemmyjelly @haileynicoleseavey17 @cierrasixx19 @oskea93 @mgkobsessed @vamprlestat @sharon6713 @itsametaphorbriansblog @miriampraez @allie-mcginn @rebeccaphillips14 @nicholeh7 @fandomshit6000 @lilmou5ie @tamedhearts @divaanya @kingbouji3 @evrsncnewyork @6ixx6ixx @ratedrkohardychick91 @floregrohlssard @oldschoolimagineblog @thanks2pete @abaldboi @swoopygorl @justjodeye @liith-ium @caos18blog @ytwahsog @shamlessobsessions @scarecrowmax @toadspleen @random-internet-user-4471 @solohqrry @loveofmyloif @sparxx27 @kaitieskidmore1 @xpoisonousrosesx @cruecifymesixx @ijustwanttokiss70srogertaylor @emmaelizabeth2014 @meetthesixxter @sixxsixxsexx @sublimeprincesswasteland @arianareirg @girlnight-terror @mcnibberachi

@fancywasmyname1 @teller258316 @ggorehorror @blowinmeupwithherlove @xrosegoldwolfx @mylifeisjustafeverdream @redlipscrystalskies14

"Ah!" I squeal with a small giggle laced through it, Nikki's lips pressing to my shoulder while he pulls out of me and his cum spills on the inside of my thighs that are wide open.

My leg's hooked over his hip as he lays behind me with his arm snaking around my waist, between my breasts, while his hand has a solid hold on my throat.

When he's done, he's pressing one last kiss to my cheek before rolling over on his back, reaching for something on his night table.

I shift to my back, staring up at the mirrored ceiling to see him holding something out to me.

I turn my head to look at him just as he's taking my hand and sliding my wedding ring back on, pressing a little kiss to my hand before grabbing at my jaw assertively, kissing me.

"Apology accepted." I say once he pulls away.

"Yeah, ditto." He chuckles, kissing me one last time before I'm giving out a content sigh and sitting up to go shower.

Once I get out, I dry off and wrap myself in a towel, brushing through my wet hair with my fingers as I step into our bedroom to get some lotion on and get dressed.

"Wait, wait." Nikki stops me as I squeeze lotion onto my hand and I look up at him and raise my brows, seeing him grab his camera from the drawer in the nightstand. "Okay, drop the towel and oil up nice: I'm gonna need something to keep me company while I'm in the studio for countless hours the next several weeks."

I roll my eyes and hold back a smile, throwing my towel at him and it hits him in the face.

"Woo!" He cheers, tossing the towel away and I cover my chest just as the flash goes off and I shake my head a little, ignoring him collecting the dispensed Polaroid as I start putting my moisturizer on.

When I'm finished, I'm pulling on sweat pants and hooking my bra, about to pull a tank top on.

"Hey, Viv?" Nikki asks me.

"Yeah, babe?"

"Is the Lord's prayer important?"

I furrow my brows, finding it odd that's he's asking.

"Well, it's the template Jesus gave Christians to use when praying so yes, it's very important." I reply and he nods a little.

"So...like...what is the prayer, exactly?"

I drop the tank-top in my hands, my eyes widen, and I look at him like he's lost his mind.

"Okay, who are you and what have you done with Nikki Sixx?"

"Ha, ha." He sarcastically lets out.

"No, seriously, either you're a clone, had a bad dose of drugs, or your body is officially done with and dying and God's jabbing at you to throw one last 'hail Mary' attempt at salvation before you croak."

"No, I just wanna know what I need to say when I pray to you." He replies with a smirk and I pretend to nearly trip and fall on the floor as if it's slippery.

"Woah, woah, woah, you gotta give me a warning before you say something so slick." I tell him, grinning and he pulls me onto him, laughing. "And to answer your question, it's 'Our Father which art in heaven, Hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done in earth, as it is in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread. And forgive us our debts, as we forgive our debtors. And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil: For thine is the kingdom, and the power, and the glory, for ever. Amen'." I finish, deciding he wasn't even listening, but I have a weird feeling he's taking notes. "Seriously, though, why're you asking?" I add, my fingers fiddling with the various necklaces hanging around his neck.

A devious, childish, sneaky little tug of his lips his highlighting the "up to no good" look in his hazel eyes as his pointer finger traces the crucifix around my neck before meeting my gaze.

"Just curious."

Just a dumbass.

I finish dressing before stepping out to check the mail.

When I come back, I realize there's a handwritten note pinned to the door.

It's signed by our accountant and I roll my jaw.

It was $2,500.00 last May, which means he's been going through $5,000.00 a day.

"Uh, Nikki?!" I call coming into the house with the mail and the letter, going to our bedroom where he's plucking at his bass, waving the letter.

"Yeah?" He asks.

"Sixx 1 & 2,

Sixx 1 is still spending exponential amounts of money on heroin a day. I left a warning last May, and said Nikki will either be dead or the two of you will be completely broke by May this year. That still stands because the amount being spent has doubled since then. Slow down." I read it off. "Nikki, it was $2,500.00 last time so he's saying you're currently spending $5,000.00 a day on smack?!" I raise my voice. "How the hell can someone possibly do that much heroin--or any freaking drug--in one day?!"

"Viv--"

"--That's $1.6 million a year! Did we even make that much last year!" I scream.

"We? Vivian, you've never worked a day in your fucking life. There is no 'we made', it's what I made. And because I'm the one who made the money, I can do whatever the hell I want with it so just hop off."

"Nikki, baby, we have bills, and insurance didn't cover as much on my time in the hospital and follow-ups as we had hoped so we have to spend money on necessities and not..." I trail off, calming myself down, rubbing my forehead, trying not to start crying.

"Viv, I'll handle it." He tells me after a moment of quiet between us. "Alright?"

I rub my lips together, letting out a sigh as he holds his hand out to take the stack of bills from me.

I hand them over, not saying a word more, before leaving him to continue scraping up motivation to actually write something.

He wrote "Wild Side", which completely reworks and assaults the Lord's prayer...then the bastard listed me as a co-write because, "well you told me what the prayer was to begin with so technically you helped me write it."

When the conservatives went digging around once the album was released, they dragged me through the mud when they saw my name attached to a bastardized version of something sacred to christianity and I heard every degrading, yet passive, insult any holier-than-thou Bible-biddy could throw at me.

I stopped going to church for quite a while after that because I didn't even want to face the possibility of all those people smiling in my face while thinking, "she's not the really for God."

"Valentine's Day?" I ask Doc, raising my brows. "...Really?"

"Well, they wanna get a good feel of Nikki and you're obviously a part of his life, so they figured spending Valentine's Day with you two would be pretty interesting." He explains.

"I don't want anybody getting a good feel of Nikki's anything." I reply stubbornly, crossing my arms.

"Yeah, and Viv won't let me pull out the really special techniques while someone's in the house with us." Nikki adds. "And she only lets me do them on special occasions."

"Nobody's feeling anybody else, and you two sodomites can have all the fun you want once the interview is done with. It'll take four hours, tops." Doc says, looking at Nikki. "We're gonna have to start promoting the album."

This is the selling point.

Nikki sighs, rubbing his face, groaning.

"Fine." He gives up, looking at me. "We can entertain the nosy bastard for a few hours, I guess."

"I suppose." I roll my eyes.

"Thank you." Doc let's out with relief.

"Was that it?" I ask him, glancing around his office.

"Oh, yeah." He nods.

"We drove down here just for you to tell us something you could have easily called and told us over the phone?" Nikki asks next.

"Yeah, 'cause I wanted to see how you look and sure enough you look like shit." Doc states and Nikki rolls his eyes. "Which reminds me, clean up your house and make yourself seem like you're not on drugs. K?" Doc gives us a parting word of advice as we stand up to leave.

"Yeah, yeah, got it." Nikki waves him off, leaving in front of me.

"Viv." Doc says to me and I nod reassuringly.

"I'll make sure he keeps it together for the interview."

"Thank you, you two be careful on the way home."

"We will, bye." I shut the door and follow Nikki out to his Jeep.

"I really don't feel like dealing with the press." He grumbles, looking at me now with his sunglasses on and I give him a small smile.

"Maybe it won't be that bad."

"I don't like people I don't fuck with in my house. It's my house. My space. It isn't a fucking amusement park that's open for review." He cranks the car and I put my seat belt on.

"Baby?"

"What?" He says a little harsh.

"It will be okay." I pat his fluffy hair. "K?"

He doesn't answer, actually pouting like a spoiled little boy.

When he ignores me, about to start driving, I raise a brow, unbuckle, and my fingers slowly fumble with the button on his jeans as his pout falters and his smirk replaces it, followed by the sound of a content, groan-filled sigh, and the back of his head hitting the back of his seat when I get my mouth around his prick.

Once we get home I'm wiping the remains of slobber and cum from my lips and he's struggling to keep his legs from collapsing.

"Are you okay?" I ask him smugly when his leg shakes a little bit as he unlocks the front door.

"Watch it, Sixx." He warns as he points at me, his hand popping me on the ass when I walk in front of him to go inside, and I let out a small shriek, following it with a laugh.

My laughter abruptly stops when I see Vanity watching T.V.

She actually seems sober enough, but she looks like she just came off of a bender.

Nikki and I look at each other.

"Oh, there you are. Nikki wasn't answering the phone and I wanted to see him." She tells us, her eyes glued him, and he sighs.

"Well, I'm here. What do you want?" He asks her in a snap, taking his jacket off.

"Nikki, quit being rude." I tell him quietly.

"Showing up to people's houses uninvited is rude." He replies, glaring at her.

"Not when I gave her the code to the gate and a key." I state.

His eyes bug for a second and he's raising his brows at me.

"You what?"

"Tansy has the code and a key, Tommy, Vince and Mick have the code and a key. Izzy, Steven, Slash, Duff, Axl--"

"--That's different." He cuts me short.

"How? They're our friends and so is she." I point out.

"If I'm not welcome I can just go." She says, grabbing her coat.

"Bye." Nikki says just as I say, "no, it's okay."

He and I give each other dirty looks.

"I was actually about to start cooking dinner and invite some friends over so feel free to stay, please." I offer to her. "Nikki, I need your help in the kitchen."

He follows me and I yank on the ends of his hair once we're alone, scolding him.

"Will you stop being a jackass to her?!" I whisper-yell.

"Can you stop being so fucking nice to people? It's stupid."

"Oh, God forbid Nikki Sixx be married to someone who's not a complete bitch." I roll my eyes, grabbing a few pans from our cabinet and he let's out a heavy breath.

"She's fucking crazy, Vivian." He argues and I turn to face him.

"You say the same thing about me any time I piss you off. I really believe she's a good girl, Nikki. She just needs one, good, solid friend that isn't just friends with her to have someone to do drugs with." I explain.

"Oh, yeah, Viv, she's really good...at being a fucking slut."

I pop him in the side of the face and point my finger at him.

"You don't talk like that about Vince or Tommy or Robbin so why the hell talk like that about her?"

"Because she is one." He ignores me and I let out a breath. "Some of the dudes she's fucked are married." He adds.

"Tansy has slept with married men, is she a slut, too?" I ask him and he rolls his jaw. "What I thought."

"Viv, I really don't--"

"Okay, Nikki. Whatever you say." I interrupt him, grabbing some things from the fridge. "She's an awful person, got it. Can you please help me with this so I can clean up the house some?" I ask.

He hesitates for a second before opening the packet of chicken on the counter I pulled from the fridge.

"Thank you." I smile, kissing his cheek, before leaving him alone so I can get the house in nice shape.

To say Nikki projected shit onto Vanity would be an understatement. Her hands weren't clean, of course, but he would often externally put her down the way he internally put himself down for what the two of them were doing to me. It was moments like that, that I looked back on after finding everything out, and would want to hit myself.

He practically told me they were sleeping together without actually saying "hey, I'm screwing this woman that you think is your friend, and you're being too nice and naive to think we wouldn't do that to you."

"Tommy and Heather, Vince and Sharise, Tansy and Vanity, Duff, Slash, Steven, Izzy and Axl." I tell Mick how many people will be at dinner and I hear him let out a breath on the other end of the phone.

"I don't know, Viv." He tells me.

"Mick, c'mon, I haven't seen you very much the past year."

"I don't know..."

"Mick--"

"--Mick, get your ass over here so we can have a good time. We're gonna see you in the studio tomorrow, anyway, so just come celebrate the commencement of the start of the new album." Nikki says after he takes the phone from me.

Mick says something and Nikki grins.

"Alright, bye." He hangs up. "He's in." He tells me.

"Thank you for snatching the phone from me, dickhead." I say, half-joking.

"Okay, I am this close," he holds his pointer finger and thumb centimeters apart from each other. "to bending you over my knee and beating your ass."

"Promise?" I reply, grinning, and he tugs me closer to him, but just before our lips meet, Vanity is walking--more so bursting--into the kitchen.

"Nikki, when are we hanging out?" She asks him, nearly bouncing on the balls of her feet.

Nikki's hands dig into my hips as if he's channeling his frustration instead of being rude.

I know what "hangout" means, and I don't need him cracked out, especially not now with guests coming over soon.

"I don't think that's a good idea, Vanity." I explain to her as politely as I can.

"Why not?" She asks me.

"Just not aright now." Nikki tells her, actually more tolerant than he was earlier.

I don't know if I'm shocked because he's not being an ass to her, or because he's  turning down the opportunity to go hit a crackpipe. 

Vanity looks at me for a split second--a very short, nearly millisecond--as if I'm the fucking Devil, before it vanishes and she smiles at us.

"Okay, I'm gonna be in the bathroom freshening up." She tells us, walking in the direction of the guest bathroom, and I let out a breath when she's gone.

"You mean you don't wanna greet our guests naked, waving a gun, and accuse them of being the FBI before opening fire?" I ask him.

He just gives me an unamused look.

"I'm gonna go change before that 'ass beating' is administered." I suggest.

"Yeah, good idea."

I change, put on some makeup, and run my fingers through my hair to comb it out before stepping into the kitchen to help Nikki finish up.

I'm met with uncooked food.

"Uh...Nikki?!" I call, glancing at the clock to see it's 8:00pm.

People will be here any minute.

I go looking for him, smelling the familiarity of cocaine.

"Oh my God." I say to myself, opening the guest bedroom to see Nikki and Vanity crouched over their pipes with a mountain of blow out.

They look at me with wild eyes.

As if on cue, the doorbell rings.

"Please be someone sober. Please be someone sober." I repeat, shutting the door as I step to the door.

I open it to reveal Duff and the guys.

"I need help." I tell them, sounding panicked. "Nikki and Vanity's cracked out."

"Um, w-we were gonna ask you for help." Duff tells me.

"What, why?"

They move over and I see Tansy, shaking a little.

"Are you--"

Before I can finish, a familiar "BANG" is sounding through the house and is joined with a loud, ear-shattering shriek of glass breaking, and we hit the ground, Duff securing me under him before a second shot is fired, breaking more glass, causing Tansy to start screaming and crying from under Axl and Steven.

I thank God when Nikki doesn't shoot again, instead the sound of him scrambling to get to his closet, and the sound of Vanity's heels scampering along with him has me sighing with relief. I hear him slam our bedroom door, and Duff runs his thumbs under my eyes to wipe at tears that I had no idea were even coming out of me.

"Holy shit." Izzy mumbles. 

"Are you okay?" Duff asks me and I nod as he helps me up.

"Tansy?" I ask her gently, she's got her hands over her ears, tears streaming down her face.

Axl carefully steps into the house as I continue to reassure Tansy.

"Uh, Viv?" Axl asks.

"I got it, Viv." Steven tells me, trying to calm Tansy down.

I follow Axl into the house, and I'm taken back by the sight of our entire ceiling in the living room shattered over our couches, the carpet, the coffee table, the T.V., it's a giant sheet of sparkling, sharp, shards of mirror.

It seems like forever just staring at the damage done to my house, and I'm unable to get words to come out of my mouth.

"Dude, is Tansy alright?" Tommy's voice sounds at the door and we snap around to see him.

I hear Heather and Sharise outside before Vince comes in behind Tommy, their brows raising at the sight of the mess.

"Hooollllyyyy..." the blonde singer drags out.

"You alright?" Axl asks me, and anger rolls through me, my teeth grinding together.

"Viv?" Tommy adds.

"Doc. Bob. Now." Is all I'm able to say.

"On it." Tommy doesn't waste a minute stepping through the glass to get to the phone in the living room while Axl tugs me back outside to avoid murdering Nikki.

That was the first straw that began the process of breaking the camel's back.

[coconutknightshade]

Merlin Versus IKEA

Rating: Gen Word Count: 3,300 Summary: 

In which Merlin is 50 Shades of Over he and Arthur's trip to IKEA.

----

Merlin gasps dramatically. Arthur looks down- The label on the sheets read GÄSPA.

AO3 or Below

"Hey- Hey, Arthur!"

The man in question comes to a stop, eyes falling shut as he fights to keep his patience. They've been working through IKEA for only a few hours, and Arthur is on a mission. It's near closing time, and they've not seen another soul for nearly a half-hour. And as dull and tedious as this trip has become, it's clear that Merlin is struggling even more so than Arthur.

"Merlin, I swear to God. If this is another-" Merlin collides into Arthur's back, forcing the man to stumble a step forward. He whirls on his boyfriend, glaring at the shit-eating grin on his face and completely ignoring the phone Merlin has trained on him. In his other hand, he's carrying a set of sheets. This has been going on for almost an hour now.

Merlin gasps dramatically. Arthur looks down- The label on the sheets read GÄSPA.

Arthur's jaw clenches as he tries to keep a straight face. As Merlin continues to laugh at his own joke, Arthur cracks, laughing traitorously and pushing Merlin away from him with a huffed, "You're not funny, Merlin."

He's a good seven feet away when Merlin finally stops laughing long enough to catch up.

"I don't think you have the necessary koala-fications to make that judgment call."

"I need to find a shop attendant. Somebody's lost their child in the store."

"Oh hoh, look who's got jokes now."

They go on like this for a while-

"Arthur, I don't think we've got any of these. Or you don't, anyway." It's a kitchen pan labeled TOLERANT .

"Arthur, I'm so skilled at this." Merlin flips around a set of notepads, the label reads SÄRSKILD. Arthur is not impressed.

Merlin's holding a notebook, the label reads KÄNNETECKEN. Arthur's already shaking his head when Merlin snorts, "Arthur, I just canna take it anymore."

Until finally, Merlin grows bored of the antic. Having been distracted by a mahogany table, it takes him a moment to notice that the other man has become unusually silent. It's with some trepidation that he slowly turns around, eyes scanning for his wayward boyfriend.

"Merlin, what the fuck are you-? Do not!" Arthur hisses quietly, glancing around hastily in fear of a shop attendant walking upon the pair. Merlin, the menace, is bent over, hands braced on a large display bed for balance as he toes off his shoes and clambers up, muttering to himself about looks being deceiving.

At Arthur's, it wasn't an outburst, outburst, Merlin grins, looking entirely too pleased with himself as he stretches out.

"Ya know," he says, completely ignoring the blond in favor of wiggling further up the bed, arms moving in a way reminiscent of making snow angels. "I really didn't expect this to feel as nice as it does."

"We're not here for a bed. Get up," Arthur says again, voice dropping an octave, but sounding more pleading than dangerous. Once again, his eyes dart around for any sign of employees. A derisive and somewhat amused snort pulls his attention back to Merlin.

"We absolutely are buying a new mattress. Mine is busted and yours- Well, let's not forget that I've seen first-hand the lads you used to parade through our apartment. We'd do the world some good lighting that mattress on fire. "

"Oi! Ironic, you knocking my taste in men when you're the one I'm parading through my apartment now." Arthur's taken a step forward, standing in the thoroughfare separating the bedroom section from the third kitchen section they've seen in the last three hours. He's got his arms crossed over his chest and is smirking at his long term friend turned boyfriend.

"Obviously, your tastes have matured." Merlin rolls onto his side, using a hand to prop up his head and running the other over the comforter, shooting Arthur a playful come hither look. Arthur, however, isn't having it.

"Merlin, I'm serious. If we get caught-'

"We aren't going to get caught! Have you seen the size of this place? They've not enough staff to patrol. I mean Christ, Arthur, how long has it been since we've seen another person? How long has it been since we've seen sunlight?"

He collapses onto his back dramatically, giving up now on trying to lure Arthur over to the bed. "We're mole people now."

"Considering you spend almost ten hours a day holed up in our bedroom, I'd say you were already halfway there."

Merlin gasps theatrically. "I'm an artist, Arthur. Those comic books aren't going to art themselves!"

Whatever retort Arthur has dies on his lips as Merlin's expression morphs into one of genuine consideration. He's braced his feet on the bed, sitting up and crossing his legs before bouncing in place. Arthur scans their surroundings once more before taking the final few steps towards his boyfriend. Merlin isn't usually this childish, but Arthur can't really blame him. If he's honest with himself, Arthur's confident the only reason he's not cracked himself is due to years of tedious work his father had pushed on him as a child.

"Arthur!"

The blond jumps, startled at Merlin's saying his name in a voice that indicates it's not the first time he's said it in attempts to get the man's attention. Regardless, Arthur shoots his boyfriend a withering look, eyebrows drew together in his signature "What the fuck, Merlin" expression. An expression that never accomplishes anything shy of Merlin grinning mischievously and Arthur's scowl deepening.

"Seriously, Arthur. This bed was made for my arse. And by that, I mean you," Merlin tries again, humming as he leans back against the thousands of pillows placed meticulously against the headboard. He's let his eyes fall shut in content, wiggling just a little bit further down the bed into a position more comfortable. Arthur rolls his eyes and steps closer to where Merlin is sprawled so that he can flick the man's ear. When Arthur inhales deep, ready to tell Merlin precisely what he thinks of the man's behavior, he instead yelps as arms drag him abruptly onto the bed.

“Merlin!” he gasps. “Merlin, no! Stop, I’m serious!”

Merlin does not stop, and Arthur only half-heartedly struggles to free himself from the other man's grip. He continues to squirm, however, trying to get his ass off the side of the bed so that he’ll maybe have enough leverage to slip free. But Merlin, laughing open and unashamed - damn him - has a solid grasp on Arthur and isn’t letting go anytime soon. They struggle for a bit longer, and Arthur, now laughing himself as he tries to wrestle free from his boyfriend, finally submits, letting his arms fall to the side. Merlin crosses his arms over his chest and grins down at Arthur, who is practically in his lap now, triumphantly.

“You’re a child, and, quite frankly, Merlin, I don’t know why I have anything to do with you.” He’s pouting now, eyes shut, and nose upturned in a very holier than thou expression.

Merlin laughs, placing a hand reverently to the side of Arthur’s face and brushing his thumb softly against the man’s cheekbone. “Because you wouldn’t have me any other way.”

At this, Arthur opens one eye and then the other. They sit like that for a moment- Merlin’s soft expression melting Arthur’s dramatic, cool exterior.

“You sound fairly sure of yourself. Is that your final answer?” Merlin doesn’t take the bait, instead choosing the lean in, pressing a kiss to the blond’s forehead. Arthur’s eyes fall shut once more, and a lazy smirk tugs at the corners of his mouth. Merlin leans forward another few inches and properly kisses Arthur, whose soft lips are warm and pliant beneath his. The angle is awkward, but who is Merlin to complain? He’s confident that between Arthur landing a new job across the country, and the two of them finally admitting feelings for the other, Arthur hasn’t rested longer than a few hours at a time. It’s sweet, this. Even if it is in the middle of a goddamn IKEA and he himself is ready to pull a fire alarm if it means hightailing it out of there.

This time when he pulls away, Arthur chases after, seeking one more kiss that Merlin indulges him in before rolling away and out from under the blond.

Arthur shoots him a questioning look because, really, there’s no telling what Merlin is going to get into next. The man is unpredictable at best, and yeah, maybe - just maybe - Merlin is right; Arthur wouldn’t have him any other way.

He pushes himself up onto one elbow, twisting his torso to better watch Merlin as he bounces up and down on the bed with an all too endearing expression of pure concentration. At the sight, Arthur struggles to hide a helpless grin, knowing well if Merlin spots it, it’ll only encourage him further.

The effort is futile, as Merlin grins openly when he meets Arthur’s gaze. “Can you feel that?”

“Feel what?” Arthur asks suspiciously because no, he can’t feel anything. Apparently, this is the right answer, because Merlin’s face only brightens further.

“Sold! It’s settled. We’re taking this bad boy home.” He hops off the bed and circles around to where Arthur’s legs hang over the bed, and where Merlin’s shoes still lay abandoned.

“Yeah? How do you figure?”

Merlin rolls his eyes indulgently as if Arthur were missing the obvious. It’s not until he raises an expectant brow that Merlin caves, sighing dramatically as if Arthur is putting him out by having him explain. “You didn’t feel anything. That means whenever I get up in the night to take a leak-”

“To snack, you mean.”

“- you won’t be disturbed. And I won’t wake you in the mornings when I get up early for a run.”

Arthur snorts. “It’s not you crawling out of bed that wakes me, Merlin. It’s your complete inability to do so quietly and without knocking over everything on the dresser and bathroom counter.”

Merlin’s right, though. The mattress lacks the dip and shifts their current one is unfortunately infamous for. This would, of course - Merlin’s late-night snacking or no - make for a much more peaceful and healthier night’s sleep. Arthur tilts his head, considering. Idly, he can hear Merlin in the background offended and protesting the charges laid against him. Too busy to further roast, Arthur tries to work the price slapped onto the headboard into their tight budget.

It’s Merlin’s deep sigh after a moment of silence that pulls Arthur from his thoughts. With two elbows, Arthur props himself up from where he’s been lying, and better eyes Merlin, who is standing between Arthur’s legs with arms crossed over his chest petulantly.

“I mean, I guess if you aren’t satisfied, we can continue to shop. But who knows how long it’ll take. We could be here for days. Maybe even months.” Merlin once again sighs, turns his head to stare dramatically into the distance- very ‘when will Johnny return home from the war?’ style. Arthur rolls his eyes at the theatrics, but the corners of his mouth twitch threateningly into what might’ve grown into an amused grin.

“I thought you’d already said sold.” Arthur finally pushes himself into an upright position and pokes Merlin’s abdomen. The man’s face immediately lights up, sending a wave of warmth through Arthur’s chest at the sight.

“Does this mean we’re free? ‘Cuz I saw this place up the road… Go-Karts, Arthur. Go-Karts. I’m dying to kick your arse!” Arthur huffs in exasperation. And that would explain the daunting and near-immediate boredom on Merlin’s part upon stepping into the shop. With a smirk, he wraps his hands into Merlin’s scarf and tugs him close, Arthur’s thighs locking him in place.

“You’re gonna-? My, aren’t we optimistic today, Mr. Emrys. I sure hope you can deliver.” At this, Merlin raises a challenging brow before his expression twists into something more devious.

“Oh, I’ll more than deliver,” he teases, tilting his head down to capture Arthur’s lips with purpose. The promise of more sends chills down Arthur’s spine and pools low in his abdomen.

Arthur’s hands untangle from the scarf and drop to Merlin’s hips, fingers digging in as he pulls the man snug up against him. His own hips roll lightly when Merlin’s hands find their way into Arthur’s hair and give a sharp tug so to better control the angle. A quiet whine escapes him when they finally part, breathless, and wanting more than their environment will allow.

“I’ll make you a bet,” Merlin says, voice strangled as he pulls once again at Arthur’s hair until the man is less focused on his own breathing and more on the way Merlin’s mouth moves as he speaks. “And when I win, you, Arthur Pendragon, are going to-”

“Excuse you!”

The two men startle, Merlin jerking away at the same time Arthur tries to stand, both nearly tripping over the other in the process. They wear matching expressions of pure mortification as the sharp blue eyes of the man standing before them, mouth downturned and eyebrows furrowed in disapproval, pierce through them.

“Do you, or do you not, see that overbearing sign with large, bold letters stating that the beds are not to be laid or sat upon?”

Merlin opens his mouth to speak, but Arthur elbows him in the side before he can say anything too snarky.

“I am-” he voice cracks, still very affected from moments ago. He clears his throat before finishing, with as much dignity as he can muster, “- so sorry about that.”

Now, standing beside the bed, he absently fiddles with the silver ring on his thumb, ignoring the way his cheeks flush still with embarrassment. He can’t be sure exactly what the man - Mordred, his nameplate reads - would have heard had he happened upon them a mere few seconds later. Knowing Merlin’s filthy mouth, it likely would have been scarring for everyone involved. As it stands, Mordred’s expression does not waver at the uncomfortable apology. Arthur’s eyes cut to Merlin when the man turns towards him fully hands on hips with an appearance reminiscent of a parent about to scold a child.

“Arthur!” he says with an exaggerated and exasperated sigh. “What was I just saying? You can’t wander around testing other people’s beds.” Merlin places a hand over his heart apologetically, turning back towards Mordred, who is watching them still with narrowed, suspicious eyes. “Let me assure you, this will not happen again.”

Merlin plasters on the most trusting smile he can manage. All Arthur can do is stare at his smug boyfriend, jaw nearly dropped, in pure disbelief. Mordred rolls his eyes, spinning on his heels and walking off with a threatening "it better fucking not”  huffed under his breath.

As soon as the man is out of sight, Merlin’s fake smile morphs into something more light-hearted and teasing. He turns to Arthur, who immediately grabs a pillow off the bed and smacks Merlin square in the face, nearly knocking him off balance before hitting him once more, this time over the head. The surprised look on Merlin’s face is priceless, pulling effortless laughter from the blond. He tosses the pillow back onto the bed and crosses his arms triumphantly while Merlin processes having taken a pillow to the face in the middle of IKEA.

Arthur’s smug grin, however, falters when Merlin’s eyes sparkle with something that always ends in trouble. He gets so far as "Merlin, whatever it is you’re thinking"  before Merlin’s arms are wrapped tightly around his waist. They both hit the bed with a thud, bed lurching several inches to the left. The deafening screech of metal against tile and a damning crack - the two of them a sudden, scary four inches closer to the ground at an angle awkward enough they begin sliding towards the floor - has Arthur’s grip on Merlin’s shoulders tighten.

When they hear a loud curse and the sound of shoes swiftly heading their way, they both roll, tumbling to the floor in a heap of flailing limbs. Arthur pushes against Merlin’s gut as he scrambles upright before making a mad dash to escape the scene of the crime, very every man for himself  schoolyard rules as they desperately try to ensure they aren’t the one to get caught. Merlin isn’t too far behind, but without his shoes, his socks slip against the tile, and he hits the ground a second time before finally gaining enough traction to take off towards the kitchen section.

Arthur has lost track of Merlin, and while he thinks he should pause to maybe listen for him, Arthur knows it will be futile, as all he can hear is his heart pounding in his ears. It’s because of this that he doesn’t hear Merlin whisper-shouting his name until he turns a corner, full speed, and slams into the man.

It’s a miracle that their collision doesn’t send them both to the ground, but Merlin somehow managed to steady both of them… Not that it really mattered. Merlin hasn't actually slowed down upon their collision. In fact, in the process of trying to steady Arthur, Merlin's hand had gotten wrapped in the blond’s leather jacket, throwing him even further off balance. And Merlin, damn him, had burst out laughing before slapping a hand to his mouth in order to muffle the noise before taking off again.

Rude.

Mordred now forgotten, Arthur takes off after Merlin, whose eyes widen at the realization, and who throws a breathless,“It was an accident”  over his shoulder while managing to pick up his pace.

It’s when they hit the tile in the bathroom section that Arthur knows he’s got the edge. Stumbling still though in a fit of laughter when up ahead, Merlin’s socks once again slip, and he nearly tumbles to the ground. The floor inevitably wins out- This Arthur knows when up ahead he sees Merlin turn a sharp corner of display counters and, not three feet down the aisle, trip, upper torso disappearing from Arthur’s sight and never reappearing.

When Arthur finally catches up to him, Merlin is laid out on his back, arms outstretched, staring up at the ceiling in defeat, chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath. Arthur comes to a stop beside him and bends over, hands on his knees as he too tries to catch his breath. They’re both red-faced, breathless and laughing.

After a moment, Arthur reaches out a hand and pulls Merlin to his feet. They’re both grinning, Merlin bent sideways with an elbow resting on one of the counters, when Arthur punches his shoulder, which, honestly, only makes Merlin laugh harder.

“Oi! What was that for?”

“You almost threw me to the ground back there!” He says it like they were in the trenches.

“I was not about to get caught!” Merlin exclaims indignantly. “You heard me! I assured him that it wouldn’t happen again. And I’m nothing if not a man of my word.”

“Merlin, you're an absolute prat.” At this Merlin grins, turning around and drawing Arthur closer by the very jacket he’d nearly dragged him to the floor with. Arthur scowls but lets himself be pulled into Merlin’s embrace. When Merlin kisses the corner of his lips, still laughing softly to himself, Arthur tries and fails to smother a grin of his own.

“Of course, I am. But I’m your prat.” Merlin flashes Arthur a proud, cocky smirk and slides his hands from Arthur’s hips to his lower back, pulling him even closer. Arthur looks at Merlin’s stupid attractive face and his stupid warm eyes, and fuck, he absolutely loves this man.

“That’s the smartest thing you’ve said all day.” Arthur buries his fist in the front of Merlin’s scarf and leans in, kissing him with fervor until the man melts against him with a small, pleased sound. Eventually, Arthur pulls back with a mischievous expression and starts navigating his way towards the nearest checkout, dragging Merlin with him.

“Now let’s go order that bloody mattress so I can beat your arse at Go-Karts. And afterward, I’ll tell you, as the loser, exactly what you can do for me tonight. In excruciating detail.”

Merlin thinks maybe losing wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.

[ciarawritesmarvel]

Close to Home [4/4] - Detective!AU

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Word Count: 3.5k

Warnings: Language, as you already know, 

A/N: Here we are! The final part of Close to Home, I do so hope you enjoy and ket me know what you think regardless. As before, this is my entry for Layla’s (@wxntersoldiers) 5k Challenge and I can’t thank her enough for her support on this series! I know that most of you just kind of want to read this now so I’ll stop rambling and just leave you to it ;)

masterlist is in my bio and the series masterlist can be found there! if you fancy being tagged in the next parts over the weekend, drop me an ask!

---

“Back inside,” he said, his tone low and unforgiving and you saw a look in his eyes that seemed sadistically playful. He was enjoying this. The smirk that appeared on his face when he saw your fear-stricken eyes proved that point.

“Carl, you don’t have to-”

“I said, back inside.”

His gun moved ever so slightly left of Steve’s shoulder and pointed instead at you again and it was enough of a warning for Steve to wrap an arm around you, still facing Carl, and slowly walk you backwards and back inside the apartment. He’d called for backup two minutes ago - you probably had another two minutes to wait for it. Time to stall.

“I thought shooting you would be enough to steer you away from this case, Y/N. Or at least for poor little Steve to steer you away. I guess I was mistaken.”

“Steve knows I can handle myself,” you said confidently, proud when you couldn’t hear the wobble in your voice that you’d anticipated, “It takes more than a shot to the arm, Carl.”

“Maybe this time I’ll make it a shot to the chest then,” he said matter of factly, face void of any and all emotion, “And before you say something heroic like “You’ll have to go through me”, save it Rogers, I will happily go through you.”

Steve closed his mouth. You wondered, just for the briefest of moments, whether that actually was what he was going to say. You didn’t let your mind wander for long.

“Why are you doing this Carl?” you said, stepping out from behind Steve in a move that shocked the both of you and had Steve’s eyes screaming at you to get back behind him.

“Killing people? I’m only killing the people who deserve to die, Y/N, you should relate to that. Each stupid fucking business man in a suit that I’ve killed is a no-good criminal that’ll never be caught. I’m just teaching them a lesson.”

Steve seemed to catch onto your stalling tactic and butted in.

“So why shoot Y/N? She’s an upstanding citizen, does everything by the book, tries to do right. Which is what you’re trying to do, right?”

You could tell it pained Steve to even suggest that what Carl was doing was anything close to doing the right thing, and it only made you all the more proud of him when you thought about it later. But in the moment, all you could focus on was the barrel of Carl’s gun pointed at your chest and the pounding of your heart in your ears.

“You two just keep getting in my way. Following leads and getting closer and closer to finding me out,” he was spitting his words out of his mouth, “I was hoping that by flirting with wifey here I might be able to derail your stupid fucking holier-than-thou marriage and therefore derail the case but no such fucking luck there. So if I have to kill you to continue my life’s mission, then so be it.”

He was clearly not in his right mind as he spoke and his reasoning certainly wasn’t making sense but suddenly all the over the top flirting did.

“You were trying to ruin our marriage?” you asked incredulously, not thinking about how he might react to your tone and just in disbelief that he ever thought that might work. The idea would have been laughable, had this been a situation where you could breathe properly.

“Thought maybe you’d realise this tall tower of righteousness was so up his own ass that you could do better but apparently I misjudged how up your own ass you are, Y/N,” he said, a fake and frankly cruel smile on your face that made you desperately want to take a step backwards. It was almost as if he sensed the urge, because in one fell swoop he had stepped forwards and wrapped one arm around your throat, the other pressing something cold into your temple.

You let out a whimper and cursed your weakness.

Steve was frantic, you could see the darting of his eyes, but he stayed vigilant, gun pointed directly at Carl and hands only visibly trembling to the sharpest of eyes.

“Detective Peterson, it does not have to come to this. Let her go.”

His voice was calmer than you’d expected, so perfectly mediating, but you knew there wasn’t much time. Now, with you in this position, you were desperate for backup to arrive because without it you weren’t sure what would cause Carl to hesitate. You had the faintest worry that Steve might shoot him, but looking into his eyes told you that he was wracking his brains for any other possibility right at that moment.

Shooting him didn’t mean he wouldn’t shoot you.

“Carl,” you croaked, good hand holding onto the arm that was wrapped around your throat, bad arm resting uselessly by your side, “Please.”

He laughed then, a throaty chuckle that held no weight and you felt the cold metal press harder into your temple, enough to cause an ache.

“I’ve always hated you, Lieutenant Rogers,” he was talking to Steve now and you closed your eyes, willing yourself to calm down, to stop panicking so much, “You had everything that I didn’t. The money. The nice house. The perfect job. The doting wife. And now, I finally have the opportunity to take away one of those things.”

Steve didn’t say anything, and you opened your eyes to see the panic and pain as his eyes flickered over to you instead of Carl. There were the beginnings of tears in his eyes as he looked at you, almost a cry for help, a cry for you to tell him what to do. You could feel your heart breaking for him.

“Don’t-” Steve’s voice cracked and his shaking hands were far more noticeable now and you felt anger bubbling up inside you when you glanced at Carl’s face beside yours and saw the joy there, “Don’t you dare.”

Carl opened his mouth to say something else, milking this moment for all it was worth, but before he could there were shouts from outside. Backup.

You felt the gun leave your temple. Saw your opportunity. Took it.

You reached around with your right hand, your good hand, and snatched the handgun that you had hidden at the base of your back, flicked off the safety with one thumb.

A shout from Steve. From Carl. A gunshot rang out.

But this time, you weren’t on the receiving end.

Carl cried out as his legs buckled and he fell to the ground, a steadily growing path of blood blossoming on his leg and Steve had enough of his senses about him to run forward and kick the gun out of his hand, letting it skid across the floor to the other side of the room. As you watched on, gun still held in a death grip in a shaking hand, Steve was suddenly cuffing Carl and officers were pouring through the door, taking over from Steve and taking Carl out of the room, presumably to the hospital, as he screeched and screamed about you having shot him.

When the commotion had gone there were just a few officers left milling around, conducting a final search of the apartment, cordoning off the site and listening to Steve’s instructions on where to find the ski mask evidence.

You were still frozen in place. Hand and eyes trained on the spot where Carl’s leg had just been.

You jumped as you felt a hand on your shoulder, head snapped towards whoever it was, eyes wide and somewhat manic. You blinked and let out a shaky breath you’d been holding when you were met with a worried Steve.

“Just me, baby,” he said soothingly, running his hand down your arm and gently taking the gun from your hand. Your fingers didn’t move, stayed in the shape that they were stuck in, that you were stuck in, “C’mere.”

His arms wrapped around you slowly, scared about how you might react, almost scared to break you. For a moment you just stood there, arm still out as if holding the gun, Steve’s head in the crook of your shoulder and arms around your waist. Eventually, after several moments where Steve thought he was going to have to pull away, you broke out of your trance and your arm finally wrapped around Steve, tightening in the collar of his shirt as you buried your face into it.

You could feel his tears soaking into your neck and you were sure there were a few strays of your own making their mark onto his shirt. The smell of his aftershave and the sound of his heartbeat kept you sane.

“Steve, m-my neck,” your voice was muffled and he pulled away just enough to be able to hear you, but you clearly weren’t allowed out of his tight hold yet - not that you would complain about that anytime soon.

“What was that?” he wiped his face with the back of his hand and you released your grip on his shirt to help him, with soft hands and cautious touches.

“Just, you were resting on my neck a little and-”

You gestured to your neck in lieu of explaining and sure enough there were already faint bruises forming on the skin where Carl’s arm had been wrapped around your throat. Steve faltered, a finger coming up to trace the marks with a feather like tenderness and you savoured the contrast.

“God, I’m so-” a crack in the voice, a fresh wave of tears, “I’m so sorry, sweetheart.”

“Shh,” you hummed softly, letting the hand that had been wiping his tears rest on his cheek as you had done so many times in the past, “It’s fine. I’m fine.”

He paused and cast his gaze downwards for a couple of seconds like he was gathering the courage to say what he wanted to say next and you gave him as much time as he needed, patiently waiting.

“I can’t protect you. I couldn’t three weeks ago and I couldn’t today. I-” he paused with a turbulent sigh, still attempting to talk through his steady tears, “What kind of police officer am I if I can’t protect people?”

“Steve-”

“What kind of husband am I if I can’t protect my wife?”

The last few words were strangled and hoarse and your own tears started up again at the sound. Urgently, you pulled his face forwards and rested his forehead against yours, closing your eyes to focus entirely on his touch. His eyes fluttered closed out of sheer instinct.

“You don’t need to protect me, honey. I never want you to feel like you have to protect me,” your hand lay on his neck and you let your thumb rub loving circles into his jaw, “And anyway, you stalled for long enough that the backup came and I could make my move.”

“It was such a badass move,” he chuckled and you joined him a little.

“Well, we both know I am a badass.”

“An insanely hot badass who happens to be the best wife in the goddamn world,” he said sincerely and you smiled against him.

“Whatever ever floats your boat, mister best husband in the goddamn world.”

He leaned in first, or maybe you did, or maybe it didn’t matter, because as soon as you kissed him, you finally, finally, felt safe. Overwhelmingly so.

---

Paperwork had never seemed more menial. That’ll happen to you when you get shot once and then nearly killed.

It was as if you had to get used to the mundanity of ordinary life again after your ordeal, which was taking a while but not longer than expected. It had only been about a month, after all, and through both you and Steve going to workplace provided counselling that Fury had basically insisted upon, you were getting past it. You helped each other more than you could ever thank each other for.

You couldn’t help but glance at Steve as you thought about him, how good he had been during the whole thing. Taking care of you with your out-of-action arm, taking care of you after the incident, letting you take care of him when he needed it. Never failing to remind you how much he loved you, sometimes a little more than was necessary. It only served to remind you how much it had shaken him.

Currently, he was staring at his computer with a furrowed brow and narrowed eyes, which flicked back and forth as he read through what was probably another boring document he didn’t want to read. Occasionally, he would reach down for his coffee and take a sip and you had to stifle a giggle when he reached without looking and accidentally hit himself in the head with the mug.

All of a sudden you were back in the academy.

You were watching Steve. Again. It was a pretty common occurrence for you, though it just so happened that the days on which you decided to have a little glance-fest at Steve didn’t coincide with the many days on which Steve decided to have a little glance-fest at you. It was almost as if fate wasn’t quite ready for you yet.

He was jogging around the perimeter as you had your break, being in a different group to you today. As you relaxed back on your forearms on the unforgiving concrete, your eyes were drawn to the hair that flopped into his face and then downwards to his flexing calf muscles and all the way back up again.

The way your chest was heaving was due to the difficult exercise you’d just been doing. Of course. Nothing else.

It was as if he felt you watching, or perhaps, you always thought later, fate decided to have a little tease, but he glanced at you at just the right moment to catch you staring. You didn’t look away, despite every nerve in your body screaming at you to do so but held his gaze in a thrilling exchange that had two hearts beating in frantic unison.

And then he ran right into the basketball post.

He staggered backwards from it, all his previous momentum lost and clutched his head and before you knew what you were doing you were up and racing over to him on the other side of the tarmac.

“Oh my god, are you okay?”

He turned to face you slowly and looked at you like he was surprised you were talking to him. For a few moments he just stayed like that, the look on his face equal parts confused and slightly - was that awe? Then he shook his head and cursed like he just realised you’d asked him a question.

“A-Am I okay? Yeah-Yes I am...um...fine. I’m fine,” he winced as he stumbled over his words like a complete idiot. You’d only spoken a few times before, when you’d been partnered up or during drinks with a few other mutual friends in the academy too. Each time, he fucked it up. He would be having serious words with himself in the mirror later.

“Are you sure? You might be concussed,” you held up three fingers in front of his face, still struggling to keep your cool in front of him but the worry about him helped with that one, “How many fingers am I holding up?”

“Three. I promise I’m- I’m actually fine,” he assured you finally finding his voice again.

“Okay. Well, that’s good.”

There was an awkward pause. He was now sure he’d imagined you staring at him and felt idiotic. You were now sure he had caught you staring at him and felt embarrassed beyond belief.

“Anyway,” you stretched the word out to its fullest extent and stepped a safe distance away from him, one where you didn’t think you were about to jump into his arms and ask him to hold you, “Take better care of yourself, Steve.”

As soon as you said his name you cursed yourself, because why the fuck would you know his name unless you were stalking him and he’d obviously think you were weird now and why oh why did you have to-

“See you around, Y/N.”

The elation the both of you felt deep in your chest as the exchanging of names really should have been a sign of what was to come, but for that moment it only served to fan the flame of a crush to span a lifetime.

Falling in love was easy when it felt like this.

You had always maintained that it was that moment for you when you knew you were completely done for when it came to Steve, but he claimed it happened to him far earlier. You’d always been sceptical of that.

The thought of him from years ago, all fresh faced and stuttery had you watching him at his desk with a renewed loving gaze. Not many people got this lucky.

You couldn’t stand it anymore. You picked up a few case files and stacked them together and pushed yourself up from your desk with purpose.

You walked tall as you made your way over to Steve’s desk in the precinct, pushing past busy cops walking this way and that, a certain swish in your walk that you couldn’t quite shake and a permanent smile set into your features.

“Hey.”

He looked up and the smile that involuntarily lit up his whole face at just the sight of you still made your heart flutter like the flustered young girl at the academy with a crush on the most gorgeous man she’d ever seen. He still possessed that same ability to make you lose your cool and you still possessed the same ability to turn him into a stuttering mess, when you decided to utilise it. Some things never changed.

“You’re sure we shouldn’t keep it formal?”

“Nah,” you said breezily, coming round to his side of the desk and pushing yourself up with both hands to sit on the edge of it, still thanking your lucky stars that you finally had the use of both hands. You’d only been cleared for field work last week and so far hadn’t been put to use, but you were itching to get back out there, “We’ve been married for two years. Together for eight. I think we can accept we’ve never had much of a work relationship.”

“You think?” he asked teasingly and you stuck your tongue out at him, revelling in the loud bark of laughter it gave you, “What did you want anyway?”

“I was just going to drop off these-” you dropped the case files on his desk, “-for a second opinion, if you don’t mind. I could do with a partner on a few of these cases that I seem to be stuck on.”

“No murderers?”

“No murderers,” you confirmed happily and he smiled, looking practically grateful it seemed.

“Good,” he murmured, “I don’t think I can take another murderer anywhere near you for a while.”

“That’s sweet and also, very fair,” you said honestly and then, remembering your actual reason for coming over, you cast a quick glance over your shoulder to check nobody was truly watching you. Coast seemed clear, “And speaking of accepting the nature of our working relationship, there is actually a second reason for coming over here…”

“Oh yeah? And what would that be, sweetheart?”

He said it like he knew exactly what you were going to say next and you reasoned that he probably did. You crossed one leg over the other and gently touched a foot to his calf, slowly dragging it up his leg as you looked at him through your lashes and bit your lip as you asked-

“I was just reliving our days in the academy where we fell madly in love,” you loved watching his face flash with memories as he recalled the same feeling of hopefulness you just had, “And remembering how much of a distraction you were.”

“Not my fault you enjoyed the view.”

His interruption made you chuckle but you narrowed your eyes at him in fake warning anyway.

“Anyway, in the spirit of reliving those days - wanna go makeout in the fourth floor cupboard?”

“You know we have done that since the academy babe.”

“You’re either in or you’re out, Lieutenant,” you said matter of factly, taking your foot away from his leg and pushing yourself to stand, beginning to walk away with just that extra swing of your hips that you knew the effect of.

He caught up with you instantly and his mouth beside your ear as he whispered sent a jolt of electricity through your spine. “Oh I am in,” he said teasingly, as he wrapped an arm around your waist and snuck you off down a back corridor towards the cupboard, giggling like teenagers, “I am most definitely in.”

Staying in love was easy when it felt like this.

[thegreenfairy13]

A Gotham Ghost Story - Part 4

When Oswald shoots Jim on the pier, his ghost is doomed to haunt the mobster. You can read the full story here. 

Thank you @mexican-texican for fixing my mistakes and I blame you for making me want to write again <3!

The police comes, of course, in the shape of one Harvey Bullock. When Jim spots the familiar, scruffy beard and the greasy hat, a wave of relief rushes through whatever is left of the former commissioner. Harvey is... family. He’s been closer to Jim than his own brother, had been at his side when he started drinking, when he tried killing himself in any way imaginable, when the city had been in anarchy’s firm grip, when he had failed time and time again. It had always been Harvey’s job to save him, to drag him back from the literal abyss. 

Jim wants to scream in joy and even does. The sound punches through the core of his being, seems to both shatter him and be simultaneously unheard to the world. It’s a weird feeling - being so loud and so silent all the same.

Yes, Harvey will be able to help. He’ll find a way to reunite Jim with his body, to mend this mess. He’ll call one of Gotham’s insane scientists, drop his body into some holy water, find someone to...do whatever can only be done in a city of utter madness.

Plus, Harvey being here means they must have found his body and maybe Jim only needs to come close to his corpse, maybe Cobblepot will be taken to the morgue and then, - then... then everything will be fine. Yeah, Harvey will fix this and then they’ll be chasing the Penguin for attempted murder again and it will be just like the good old days.

Unless, of course, it won’t.

It takes Jim far longer than he’d like to admit it, given he’s a cop and everything, but the way Harvey paces about the mobster’s living room, the way he’s not acting as if he’d own the place, should have set off his inner alarm. He’s not submissive, not exactly, but he isn’t acting as if he’s about to haul the former umbrella boy’s ass back to Blackgate either. He’s somewhat tense .

“Penguin,” he greets gruffly, not sitting down without an invitation like he used to.

“Detective,” the gangster purrs back with a crooked smile. He’s showing off too many teeth, accentuating his pointed nose when scrunching up his face awkwardly, and for a second, he truly looks like a Penguin - but not like a cute, clumsy bird, no, more so a creature from hell, a demon’s caricature of a living being and Jim remembers why he never truly submitted to the other man. He forgets, sometimes, what Oswald is capable of. Hidden under all that formal wear, polished smiles and perfect manners, lies a monster.

“I’m surprised to see you came personally to welcome me back in the arms of our beautiful city,” Oswald starts. The mobster limps to a nearby sofa and makes a show of sitting down as gracefully as possible with his injured leg. Extending his hand, he invites Harvey to do the same.

“This isn’t a courtesy visit,” the cop replies but takes the offered seat with a huff. “If it had been up to me, I could have gone another decade without meeting you.”

“And here I thought you already wanted to rekindle our old friendship,” the Penguin retorts smoothly.

“I don’t recall us being friends,” Harvey snaps back, more harshly than is probably wise. Jim cringes inwardly. Given the mobster’s unstable temper, taunting him isn’t probably the best course of action. He himself is the best example of that.

Leaning back and taking a deep breath the cop comes straight to the point, “What do you know about Jim Gordon’s disappearance?”

The silence that follows the lawman’s question is deafening. Harvey patiently waits for his answer, seemingly enraptured by the state of his cropped fingernails while the Penguin makes an impressive show of opening and closing his eyes in mock surprise, acting every bit like an appalled lady from an 18th-century novel. It’s laughable, really, and a wave of anger rushes through Jim at the sight. Storming over, he wants to shake the insolent gangster but of course, his hands only manage to reach through the ether when they try holding onto solid material.

The only reaction Jim elicits is a little shiver from the mobster that easily makes his cheap act seem more believable.

“Oh, haven’t you heard already?” Harvey teases skeptically. “The moment you leave Blackgate, our good Commissioner vanishes from the face of the Earth. And at first I thought, hey, might be a coincidence, but then I thought hey...Every time something bad happened to Jim Gordon it’s somehow related to you or your machinations, so why not ask our favorite, freshly-released jail-bird?”

The mobster smashes his hand onto the table so swiftly and with such vigor, it startles all three of them. “I’ve been home for only a couple of hours,  after having been locked up for false accusations no less. My first way lead me to my mother’s grave to pay her the respect she deserves, to take care of her derelict grave and to return to the house that Jim Gordon had fruitlessly attempted to steal from me and you come into my home and accuse me...of what, actually? Do you have any proof? Evidence? Or are you playing the same old tricks that robbed me of my freedom…”

Harvey halts the gangster’s rant with a motion of his hand and Jim shakes his head in silent admiration. If he hadn’t been shot dead only a couple of hours ago, he would almost be inclined to believe Oswald’s theatrics.

“You’ve always been an exceptional liar,” the Commissioner acknowledges with a little snarl.

“Thank you,” the Penguin mutters unthinkingly and Harvey raises his eyebrows while Jim freezes. Did he just….?

“Thank you?” Harvey parrots.

Confused, Oswald looks at him but quickly regains his composure. “Well, I suppose I should be flattered you believe me to be capable of kidnapping the Commissioner of Gotham City only mere minutes after my release from Blackgate. I must be a true comic book-supervillain in your eyes,” he scoffs derisively.

Taken aback, Harvey considers the Penguin’s words for a moment. “How would you know he was kidnapped?”

“I don’t,” the mobster retorts bitterly. “For all I’ve heard he could have turned his back and ran from Gotham.”

“And leave his only daughter behind?” Harvey asks incredulously. Narrowing his eyes, he inquires him further. “And what exactly did you hear?”

“Ohhh,” Oswald shrugs innocently, “just what I read in the papers. How our holier-than-thou cop’s marriage failed when his wife decided to rule parts of the underworld or how he teamed up with the aforementioned daughter’s mother and notorious criminal to raise said child. Maybe you should take a good look at Gordon’s private life before coming after an innocent man - again.”

At that, Harvey bursts out laughing. “Oh, I will,” he promises, wiping his eyes. “But I still thought I’d start with the criminal who never got tired of pointing out to anyone who might listen how much he hates Jim Gordon. Isn’t that right, Oswald?” he urges. “The guards at Blackgate couldn’t stand your tune any longer. Said you were like a little teenage-girl rejected by her first boyfriend. The only thing missing was you scribbling Jim’s name all over your prison-walls - but you probably did that too, didn’t you?” he teases.

Pressing his mouth into a thin line, the Penguin leans forward. Trembling hands fisted into the fabric of his own trousers, he replies, “You will understand, Detective, that I felt a slight wave of animosity towards you and your partner after the way you betrayed me in the aftermath of…”

“Betrayed you?” Harvey interrupts, angrily rising to his feet. “For a man as smart as you claim to be you are a short-sighted idiot.” Before Oswald can answer, the cop stops him with a motion of his hand. “You truly never figured it out, did you?” he demands to know curiously, and for once, the confusion on Oswald’s face is genuine.

Knowing what is about to happen, Jim rushes towards Harvey. “No,” he mumbles, unwilling to accept what he can’t prevent now that he’s just a shadow in a room. “No,” he groans in frustration when the other man starts talking of what he had done all those years ago. Is it really necessary, he thinks to himself? Is it really necessary for Oswald to know about each and every time Jim failed to do what’s right? Must he know about yet another one of his mistakes? How is it possible Oswald always sees him at his lowest, stripped from his morals and caught in a web of impossible choices even after his death? Is that his punishment in the afterlife? Oswald, of all people, gaining the moral high grounds above him and taunting him with his knowledge?

“You know you brought your time in Blackgate upon yourself, didn’t you?” Harvey challenges, clearly enjoying the Penguin’s tension. He mocks him like a game show host, marveling at his contestant’s distress.

“No, I don’t,” Oswald admits through gritted teeth, clearly upset with the charade. Jim reaches for Harvey, even places a hand over the other man’s mouth but the motion goes unnoticed.

“Did you never wonder, Oswald , how you only got ten years? You murdered so many people: in front of my eyes, Jim’s eyes, in front of countless witnesses and all you got was ten measly, fucking years?”

Oswald tries to reply but is again cut off. “If Jim wanted you gone forever, all he had to do was haul fifty plus people into the witness-stand.”

The Penguin, only moments before about to explode into a fit of rage, stands frozen in place. “Lies,” he whispers then, seemingly unconvinced.

“Lies?” Harvey parrots, nearly jumping from the ground in his anger. “It was you who betrayed the government when Gotham returned back to normal. It was you who thought he could fill his pockets and walk away unscathed. You should be thankful you only got charged for tax evasion,” the cop bursts out.

“Does the name Amanda Waller ring any bells? Did you or did you not try to fuck with her? Did you never wonder why Barbara, Ivy, Zsasz, and others walked free and didn’t get hunted down while you ended up in Blackgate for tax evasion of all things?!” he roars. “Unlike you, they were smart, they knew when to back down and not mess with people, but you and your greed! They wanted your head and I wasn’t against handing it over but Jim - oh Jim,” he emphasizes by pushing his finger forcibly into Oswald’s chest. “He wanted to give you a chance, he made a deal: pulled you from the streets for a considerable amount of time without having to kill you and reuniting Mrs. Waller with Uncle Sam’s money. And the hilarious thing is, you never even knew!” he exclaims in a frenzy. “They all knew, Ed knew, every idiot in Arkham or Blackgate knew but you were too caught up in your revenge-fantasies and you really didn’t think twice .”

Exhausted, Harvey falls back against the cushions, a slightly embarrassed Jim hovering next to him. Biting his lip, Jim doesn’t know what to say. What Harvey explained is just part of the truth, what he thankfully left out is how he failed to protect Gotham from yet another detrimental influence, one that this time came from the government itself. He opens his mouth, wants to explain that yes, all of that is true but just one side of the coin, that maybe he could have done more, that his actions were never about Oswald, that he could have...He isn’t really sure what he could have done but as nobody hears him anyway, he falls silent again.

The cop shivers slightly when Jim lays a consoling hand on his arm as they both wait for the Penguin to speak again. Swallowing heavily, Oswald looks down, barely concealing the tears glistening in his eyes.

“I do remember talking to government officials when Gotham was reunited with the mainland,” he admits at last. “Mrs. Waller…” he scrunches up his face as he tries staying calm. “She made a proposal. Wanted various people to work for her. Not exactly the kind of work you’d expect respectable people to do. I thought she was yet another corrupt politician trying to benefit from the chaos.”

“She’s still very much in charge,” Harvey grumbles angrily.

“I miscalculated,” Oswald admits with a sheepish smile.

“And you projected all your anger onto Jim and once you walked out of Blackgate you either kidnapped him or killed him,” Harvey concludes.

Gasping for air, Oswald screams out his denial. “Jim Gordon and I might have had our difficulties but you certainly don’t believe I could have kidnapped him and still be unaware of what you’ve just told me?” he exclaims angrily. “And as for killing him...You know better than anyone else in this city what we have been through. Do you really think I’d be capable of hurting him in this fashion?”

“Very much so,” Harvey replies drily.

“So if you want to arrest me,” the gangster snaps back indignantly, “present me the evidence. Is there any proof for your accusations?”

Laughing silently, the cop merely shakes his head. “Oswald, you still don’t get it. I’m not here as a cop. I’m here as Jim’s friend. The very same man who stood between you and Barbara Kean’s gun. And she strongly believes you have at least information on her child’s father’s whereabouts. The same goes for his still-wife Lee Gordon. You see, if these two ladies assume you hurt Jim Gordon, I won’t stand in their way, I’ll lean back and enjoy the show. They’ll tear down the city to get to you, at least you should know that. You know what they are capable of, so if you know where Jim is, you should talk now. Blackgate might be the last safe place for you in that case. Otherwise…” Harvey leaves the threat hanging as he readies himself to leave.

Looking up, the Penguin stares pleadingly at the cop. “You must believe me,” he begs. The look on the criminal’s face is so innocent it catches Jim off guard. Hunched over on his couch, shivering from the cold in the room, he looks like a small child. He pleads with Harvey to believe him and his expression is so open, so trusting while the man himself is so frail and broken even Jim starts to doubt what happened to him on that pier.

Getting up clumsily, Oswald limps over, extends his hands to the cop. “You are right, I was very mad at Jim but I could have never killed him. I had so many chances in the past but…” he trails off.

“He was still my friend,” he admits brokenly when his voice takes on a higher tune, almost making him sound like a woman and Jim loses his mind. He can’t look away even though he wants to protest with all his might.

He blinks once, searches for Harvey, wondering if the other cop falls for the trick but he’s already gone.

“But you weren’t a friend to him,” a male voice replies instead, one that belongs to a man Jim has never seen before.

Turning back to Oswald in confusion, Jim finds a petite blonde woman with her face hidden in her hands standing in the place the mobster used to be.

“I took always such care of him,” she sobs desperately as the man starts menacingly walking towards her. Now that he’s stepping closer to the fire, Jim can make out a mop of thick, gray hair, a pointed nose, and thin lips, contorted in disgust.

“A filthy whore, that is what you are,” the elderly man spits as he backs up the young blonde against the fireplace. From that angle, Jim has even a better view. He notes the man wearing a perfectly tailored suit, similar to Oswald’s taste but with much less extravagant details. He shakes the woman roughly as he pushes her towards the fire.

“But I love him!” she protests, terrified.

Horrified, Jim witnesses how the man smacks her across the face. “You love his money,” he hollers. Leaping forward, Jim tries to intervene, tries pushing the man off of the woman as he continues dragging her towards the fire. Angrily, he punches the man right in the face and the woman lets out an agonizing scream.  

Surprised, he lets go, giving her the opportunity to storm out of the room, a baffled Jim in her tow. While following her down the hall the cop briefly wonders if the man felt his punch or if the woman’s cry had been the cause of her escape. If Jim would have turned around though, he would have found the man rubbing his cheek.

[saywhatjessie]

Red Eye, Code Blue

Written for Aspec 2019. 5.5k (Ao3)

Things had never been easy between Steve and Tony. They were pitted against each other from the get-go: the soldier and the guy who couldn’t stop railing against the military. Steve, at one point, had also been the guy who railed against the military but he felt like he had the right, actually serving in it, after all.

They didn’t keep that from letting them work together. They bickered and battled bad guys. They took cheap shots at each other and incapacitating shots at their enemies. They got along best when they were fighting someone else.

But that had been before the Accords.

Steve remembered being back in that room in Bucharest. One of Howard’s fancy pens in his hand, the accords stacked on the table both a threat and a lifeline.

“I'm not saying it's impossible, ” He’d said “but there would have to be safeguards.”

Tony had all but leapt at that. A light in his eyes that made Steve feel like maybe he was making the right call.

“Sure! Once we put out the PR fire, those documents can be amended. I'd file a motion to have you and Wanda reinstated–”

“Wanda? What about Wanda?”

And they’d fought again. Tony was keeping a kid prisoner and he didn’t think Steve would have a problem with it.

“She’s a kid! ”

“Give me a break!” Tony had yelled. “I'm doing what has to be done . . . to stave off something worse.”

Steve had clenched his jaw, looking from Tony to the expensive fountain pen in his hand.

“You keep telling yourself that.”

He’d put the pen down on the table, the clack of the metal on the wood loud as a gunshot in the tension of the room.

He went to turn around but something stopped him. To stave off something worse…

He turned back around. “Tony, I have to tell you something. ”

And he’d told Tony about his parents. About what really happened on that dark and snowy road in 1991.

Tony didn’t take it well, gasps of ‘no’ escaping him, leaning against the conference table for support as Steve told his story. His face had collapsed in shock and grief and then in hurt and rage. By the time Steve had finished, Tony tried pushing past Steve out of the conference room. Steve had had to grab onto him to keep him.

“He’s downstairs! The guy who killed my mom is downstairs. I need to– I have to– ” Tony all but sobbed, trying to push himself out of the hold Steve had taken him in. 

Steve was a super soldier. He could keep Tony contained until he had time to calm down.

After a couple moments of weak straining, Tony slumped in Steve’s arms. Steve ran a hand over his back, attempting to comfort, but Tony pushed against him, a silent plea for release.

Steve had let him go and he’d collapsed into a chair, his head in his hands.

“Get out .” Tony had said.

Steve had just looked at him. 

“How long have you known and you didn’t tell me?” Tony had asked. Steve’s face had gone a bit strained and Tony had shaken his head. “I can’t look at you right now. We can stay at this compound as long as it takes to get these accords signed but I can’t worry about that right now. I need–” He’d swallowed. “Get out. ”

So Steve had gotten out. He’d gone back to the conference room Sam was being housed in and shook his head when he’s asked what was wrong. He hadn’t wanted to talk about it.

In the end, Steve was glad he’d said it. Bucky had been reprogrammed, they’d had to break out of the building, Steve had to pull down a helicopter with his bare hands.

They’d fought at the airport – Tony maybe fighting more aggressively than he normally would have, but he hadn’t been fighting to kill. 

And when Zemo had played them that video, after they’d escaped to Siberia, Tony knew what it would be. He’d looked away. Steve had been glad for it.

“I knew that already,” Tony had growled through gritted teeth. “I know what he’s done. You can’t distract me. ”

And they’d brought Zemo in. And on the flight back to the States, Tony slapped down the accords, throwing a Bic ballpoint pen at his chest.

“Sign. ” He’d spat.

And Steve had signed.

And Steve was happy he’d at least staved off something worse.

It had not been as easy as Steve signing and they were off the hook. The other Avengers who’d fought with Steve had still been on the raft, and Bucky was still a security risk. But with Steve now backing the Accords and with Tony willing to fight for the defecting Avengers, those things had been handled. Messily and tirelessly but handled. As Tony kept reminding everyone, “We have bigger threats, people, come on.”

Things hadn’t been easy to start with, so of course, now that things were worse, they had to get trapped in an elevator together on their way out of the police station.

Being trapped with Tony Stark, it was hard to remember those bigger threats. Especially when Tony kept sneering at him.

“You’re a mechanic,” Steve groaned. “Can’t you fix it?”

Tony threw a glare at him, fingers already working to pry open the control panel. “I have multiple PhDs in quantum mechanics, electrical and mechanical engineering, and physics. You can’t just call me a mechanic.”

“You call yourself a mechanic! I’ve heard you do it!”

“Yes: to kids and Rhodey who I just want to see me as a normal guy. You do not get that privilege. To you, I am not a normal guy. I am your god.”

Steve snorted, crossing his arms and leaning dramatically against the wall of the elevator.

They’d come down to the police station to work on getting Avengers clearances for one of their Thanos contingency plans. There was a lot they still didn’t  know and even more that they could do nothing about but Tony had started working on systems of evacuation and defense that he needed a lot of tech and a lot of crossing international borders for.

Steve had gone with him so they could put up a united front. The Avengers were Back and ready to Take Down Evil and Need Your Support so Please Do What We Say.

It was still a slow process; this was their third time coming to the police building that month. Tony had made an innocuous comment about the shitty elevator last visit.

And, you know, Murphy’s Law.

Tony swore, shaking out his hand. It looked like his nail had bent back.

“Don’t you have any of your fancy gadgets that could break that open?”

Tony turned another heated glare on him. “I checked all Iron Man tech at the door in an effort of good will.”

Steve raised an eyebrow. “You didn’t sneak anything in? It’s not like they would know.”

Tony opened his mouth before closing it and taking a deep breath through his nose.

“Good. Will.” He ground out, through gritted teeth. “I’m a man of my word. Trying to be honorable , here.”

Steve’s head jerked back. Sounded to him like Tony was implying he, Steve, wasn’t honorable. Which was complete horse-shit.

But before Steve could snipe back, Tony stood up, gesturing to the panel. “It’s not like you had to check your super strength at the door so could you give me a hand, here?”

Steve scowled, but crouched by the control panel. He felt along the edges, finding a weak spot, and dug in his finger to pry it open.

He bent the metal. That was going to be harder to put back.

Tony seemed to agree because he took another hard breath through his nose.

“Whatever. Fine. If they didn’t want their control panel fucked with, they shouldn’t have such a shitty elevator.”

He pushed Steve out of the way to have better access to the circuit board and Steve felt the touch like a brand. 

Tony was always so full of passion and fury. So was Steve. It’s why they butted heads so much. But sometimes, Steve thought there might be something else to the passion and fury.

Steve stood back up to watch Tony work, leaning against the opposing wall of the elevator. Tony was glaring at the circuits through a hologram projecting on his phone. He tapped at some of the scrolling numbers and reached around the light to tweak a wire here and there.

“Thought you said you didn’t bring tech in.”

Tony growled deep in his throat. “No weapons . Nothing that could have helped me force the panel open. Shut up, I’m working.”

Steve turned his head to hide a smirk.

Tony did something then did something else and then a bunch of numbers and letters started scrolling very fast and Tony stood up, joining Steve against the elevator wall with a groan.

“Give up?” Steve asked.

Tony closed his eyes. “Friday’s running a couple diagnostics and trying to access the motor controls for the building. Fuck you.”

Steve smirked fully now. He slid along the wall so he could nudge Tony with his shoulder.

“Letting your robot do the work?”

Tony’s eyes were still closed. He let out a pained sigh. “She’s not a robot which you know because I’ve told you that at least 300 times. But, yes, Rogers, we do let robots do our work for us. That is literally why they were invented.”

Tony didn’t move away from Steve’s shoulder.

Before what the news cycle called the “Civil War”, this kind of thing had happened all the time. Steve would make sarcastic comments about Tony’s reliance on technology and Tony would take shots at Steve for being old and stuck in his ways. It had been friendly. Schoolyard shenanigans. Maybe a little pigtail pulling.

It hadn’t been as friendly lately but Tony’s shoulder still pressed to Steve’s bicep gave him a little bit of hope.

“Nothing wrong with a little bit of elbow grease, Tones. Rolling up your sleeves and doing the work yourself. That’s what your dad used to do.”

Tony’s eyes shot open, the comment about his dad the trigger pulled.

“All right, dick. You can stop pretending like you knew my father. You knew him for, what, a year in his 20s? I knew him how he actually was. He started all of the robot shit. If he could have built a robot to raise me instead of doing it himself he would have. So you can take your whole ‘what your father would have done’ bullshit and shove it because you didn’t know him. You barely know me or my work. So keep your goddamn holier-than-thou anti-technology commentary to yourself. In fact,” Tony’s voice became low and dangerous. “I’d prefer if you stopped talking altogether.”

When Tony looked at him, Steve saw fire. There was a cruel tilt to his mouth and a challenge in his eyes.

Steve leaned in.

Tony leaned away “Whoa. What the fuck?”

Steve blinked. “What?”

“Did you just try to kiss me?” The incredulousness in Tony’s face made Steve take one physical and several mental steps back.

“What?”

Tony leaned his own body back as if trying to take in Steve in the context of what had almost just happened. “Did you go in for a kiss just now? Really?”

Steve shrugged, putting on an effective air of nonchalance. “Wasn’t that where we were going?” He puts on a smirk with only half the confidence he’d felt when he leaned in the first place. “That’s how this usually goes, right? All the fighting and pigtail pulling and now we’re stuck in an elevator together?” He shrugged again. “I’ve seen the movies.”

Tony bleated a laugh, an unattractive sound. Steve’s not sure he’s ever heard Tony laugh so unrestrainedly before.

Tony put his hands on his forehead, pushing his hair back. “Oh my God, there is so much wrong with so much of what you just said. Starting with you saying you’ve ‘seen movies’.”

Steve scoffed, crossing his arms. “I’ve definitely seen movies. Nat’s been showing me.”

Tony waved him off, not bothering to entertain that line of conversation.

“That isn’t this, pal. We’re not that. I genuinely don’t like you.”

Steve rolled his eyes, slumping back against the wall again. This time Tony did move away.

“Yeah, okay,” Steve started. “Fury always said we fight like an old married couple.”

Tony shook his head. “No. Not that. Not even a little bit.” He took a deep breath and moved to stand in front of Steve, putting his hands on his shoulders and looking him in the eye. “Rogers. Steve. I need you to hear me when I say this. Are you listening?”

Steve nodded, his eyes jumping back to Tony’s mouth.

Tony smacked him weakly upside the head. “No. None of that. Look at my eyes, I need you to listen to me.”

Steve looked at Tony’s eyes. He couldn’t help but feel like this was a little romantic.

Until Tony, looking him in the eye, said, “I don’t like you. You’re mean to me, and not in a fun way. I’m working with you literally under threat of Thanos killing off half of the universe. I would not choose to be in your company if not for that.” He let go of Steve and took a step back. “You’re a bitch.”

And then he moved away, turning back to the control panel.

Steve just watched him, completely speechless, as a bunch of beeps and other mechanical sounds came from Tony’s devices. It took until Tony had worked out the problem with the elevator shuddering back into motion for Steve to ask, “What?”

Tony shrugged, closing the panel as much as he could with the dented door. “I thought we were on the same page here. I mean you did completely betray me and leave me to go and defend your buddy who killed my parents. And that was after he tried to shoot me in the face.”

“He was brainwashed ,” Steve started heatedly.

But Tony cut him off. “Yeah, and I’m using B.A.R.F. to help fix him, but getting you to let me in on that was like pulling teeth. If it had been up to you, he’d be frozen in Wakanda or something.”

Steve tried to open his mouth to defend himself again but Tony wasn’t hearing it.

“So I thought you’d made it clear to me that we weren’t friends. Why the fuck would we be anything else?”

Their elevator arrived at the ground floor and Tony was back to being all smiley once the doors opened. He charmed and schmoozed the people on the desk, apologizing for the door to the control panel and ‘I’d be happy to do a full mechanical upgrade on the building. No, really! How can we expect you to do your jobs with unreliable equipment?’

Steve tried to turn on his Captain America persona, afraid of appearing harder to work with than Tony Stark, but he was never a very good actor. He was feeling put out and unhappy and out of sorts and he knew he looked it. Most of the employees didn’t make eye contact with him as he and Tony left.

When they made it to the front steps outside the building, Tony tossed Steve the keys to the rental car they’d driven to the station.

“I don’t want to ride back with you,” he said plainly, lifting up his shirt to put the Iron Man core back to his chest where the arc reactor used to be. “So you can drive home, and I–” he pressed the mechanism and the Iron Man suit started forming around him. “-will find my own way back.”

Steve looked at the keys, his face screwed up in consternation. “Tony, wait,” he tried.

“No,” Tony said instead, moving into a crouch for takeoff, “I don’t think I will.”

“There’s really nothing here?” Steve tried anyway, not one to back down.

Tony came out of his crouch, his faceplate coming up to give Steve an almost pitying look. “No, Steve. There’s nothing there. A) Because I don’t like you and B) because I’m aro as fuck.”

Steve growled in exasperation. “Come on, Stark, you’re being difficult on purpose. What does that even mean ???”

Steve caught another of Tony’s eyerolls before the faceplate came back over his face.

“Bitch.” Tony said, and then took off.

Steve didn’t want to tell anyone about it. It was embarrassing and he still wasn’t entirely sure what had even happened.

But… he really didn’t know what the fuck had happened. He needed help.

He considered confiding in Bucky or Sam but Bucky was already going through his own thing and with Sam, sometimes it got to be a kind of echo chamber. Sam probably wouldn’t see the situation any differently than Steve did.

Natasha was an option but a) she was never as straightforward as Steve needed her to be and b) she would laugh at him. And tell everyone. For a super spy, she really was all too happy to tell Steve’s embarrassing secrets.

And, anyway, this was about Tony first and foremost. Steve hadn’t done anything wrong on his end – it was because Tony was ‘aro as fuck’, whatever that meant, that he’d rejected Steve. So Steve had to talk to someone who knew Tony and, therefore, knew what the fuck that meant.

Pepper was out. She and Tony had gone through some kind of split and were on a break or something. At least that’s what Tony had said. She’d probably know the most about what Tony had meant about being aro and how that related to not wanting to kiss Steve but he doubted she was willing to share. Also, she scared Steve, just a little.

Steve approached Colonel Rhodes at the compound. Rhodes was still working on walking, the electronic braces Tony had built helping him regain mobility, but Rhodes’s movements weren’t fluid yet. He was in the med bay, working in the PT room, when Steve found him. Steve tried not to feel like he was cornering him where he couldn’t get away.

He stood a few steps away from where Rhodes walked between the bars – hands not touching them, but hovering over in case he needed the help. There was no one spotting him which was lucky as Steve wasn’t sure he wanted an audience.

He crossed his arms and leaned against the doorway, affecting an air of casualness he didn’t feel, letting Rhodes walk toward him.

“You’re progressing really well,” Steve told him. “You should be proud.”

Rhodes rolled his eyes, taking a pause at the end of the walkway to hold onto the bars and take a breath. “I am proud. So I’m going to ignore how condescending that sounded.”

Steve held up a hand. “Sorry. I didn’t mean–”

“I know you didn’t, Cap,” Rhodes interrupted, smiling. This was already going better than Steve had expected. “What’s up?”

Steve took a breath, recrossing his arms. They were most comfortable that way. “I’m worried about Tony.”

Rhodes immediately stood up straighter, his shoulders coming back to military position. “Why? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, he’s fine, I think.” Steve sighed leaning a little bit back onto his heels. “Do you know what aro is?”

Rhodes snorted, his shoulders slumping in relief. “Yeah, fucking Tony.” He chuckled before his head jerked back up, his eyes gone a bit wide. “Wait, did you make a move on him?”

Steve’s arms tightened, his own eyes widening slightly. He hadn’t expected Rhodes to make that leap. He cleared his throat, “Why would you think–”

“You did .” Rhodes interrupted again. “You definitely did. Oh my God.” Rhodes face was spreading in a smile. “Oh my God . This is amazing.”

Steve huffed a bit, refusing to get sidetracked. “What does aro mean? Why would Tony tell me that?”

“Well I’m assuming it’s so you would leave him alone when he told you he didn’t like you.” Rhodes said, laughing under his breath. “I’m guessing you were persistent?”

Steve flexed his shoulder, refusing to answer that. “So it was an excuse?”

“No, it’s true. Tony Stark is aro as fuck .” Rhodes grinned. “But that’s not why he turned you down, whatever move you made. He just doesn’t like you.”

Steve grunted. Yes, Rhodes, he’d made that very clear. “What does aro mean?”

Rhodes shrugged, moving backwards down the padded walkway He looked down at his feet to watch his legs move awkwardly under the different kind of mobility required. “It’s short for aromantic. You can google it.” He looked up at Steve then. “Do not bother Tony about it. Leave him alone, Rogers.”

Steve sighed. “You can’t just tell me?”

Rhodes grinned at him. “Nah. You’re a smart guy – you figure it out.”

  Going to Rhodes had been a mistake. Not only because he didn’t actually get any useful information out of it, but the Colonel had also told everyone that Steve had made a move on Tony.

And everyone had found that so hilarious.

Steve had hoped Colonel Rhodes would have a little more professionalism and respect but, no, he told Happy who told Peter who told everyone , because that sticky teenager lived to, as he put, “roast America’s ass”.

Natasha kept moving boxes of tissues closer to Steve whenever Tony walked away from him. Vision had taken to playing “Careless Whisper” every time Steve entered a room. Bruce only ever looked at him now with a mix of pity and amusement which, when taken with the other things wasn’t so dramatic, but was definitely the most annoying.

He had googled ‘aromantic’ like Rhodes had suggested (Googling just ‘aro’ had done him no good previously as he’d been spelling it like ‘arrow’) but the results didn’t clear up too much. 

“ An aromantic person is someone who doesn't experience romantic attraction. There's no need for an aromantic to pair up with another person for romantic reasons.”

  But Tony had a whole slew of conquests in the past. He was famous for it. And he’d had a relationship with Pepper that was definitely more serious than the others – a romantic relationship! They had been a couple! Steve had followed the relationship from when he and Tony had met to when Tony had told them they were seperated in that conference room in Bucharest. Not that he had schemes on Tony, he was just interested in his friends.

But Tony had been in a romantic relationship and Google said that’s not what aro means. Had Tony been lying?

He thought about this every time he saw Tony walk in somewhere with Bruce tucked under his arm. He watched Tony kiss Bruce or Pepper on the cheek, heard him call people pet names like ‘dear’ or ‘honey’ or ‘sweetheart’. None of it was adding up.

It was during an Avengers Sponsored Social Charity Event – one of the efforts being made to regain the trust and faith of the public – that Steve all but convinced himself that aromanticism was fake and Tony had lied to him completely. He watched Tony slowly guide Pepper around a dance floor, a tasteful but sparkly ring on her left hand. They hadn’t officially told the rest of the team yet, but it was clear the couple were back together and now, somehow, engaged.

That is extremely romantic behavior. Marriage? Romantic.

Steve grit his teeth, his narrowed eyes locked on them as they made their way across the floor. His arms were folded so tightly it was unlikely they’d ever hang loose again.

A shorter figure slid up next to Steve, chewing sounds coming from his open mouth. “They’re cute, right?”

Steve glanced down at Peter, wearing his Spider-Man suit under his tuxedo in an effort to preserve his identity, but with his mask rolled up to expose his mouth so he could inhale the party’s hors d'oeuvres. He’d somehow procured an entire tray.

Steve just grunted in reply.

Peter popped another mini crabcake into his mouth and talked around it. Teenagers were gross.

“Yeah, Tony and Pepper make a good team. Very solid support system.” He popped another crabcake into his mouth despite not having yet swallowed the first. “She would never blame him for an international incident and then leave him to deal with the fallout in the press, including the revision of official security government documents, by himself.”

Steve glared down at the masked hero. Peter just licked grease off the fingers of his gloves. “You got something to say, kid?”

Peter shrugged, throwing a ball of crab up in the air to catch in his mouth. “I’m just saying,” he said around it. “No one who’s ever done any of those things should presume they’re entitled to any relationship with Mr. Stark. How messed up would that be? I mean could you imagine?”

Steve gaped, watching Peter dip a jumbo shrimp into some kind of white sauce. He wasn’t sure he could recall the kid ever being so disrespectful.

“You think I feel entitled ?”, he asked, annoyed at how petulant he sounded.

Steve couldn’t see through the mask, but he could guess by the bottom half of Peter’s face he was raising an eyebrow. “Which answer gets you to stop glaring at Mr. Stark like that?”

“I wasn’t–” but Steve stopped himself, because he definitely had been.

Peter smirked. “Look, Captain,” Steve was a little gratified that Peter was respectful enough not to call him Rogers like Tony did. “This whole Edward Cullen, lurking in corners and glaring menacingly at the one you adore act isn’t working for anyone.” Steve didn’t know who Edward Cullen was but he wasn’t going to bring it up. Not when he’d told Tony he’d seen movies. “It’s better if you just leave him alone.”

Steve refrained from throwing up his hands but barely. “Why does everyone keep saying that?”

That got a laugh out of Peter. “Have you thought that maybe if everyone agrees on something it’s probably true?” Then Peter’s face pulled into a grimace. “Well… considering everyone that agreed on the Accords, I guess you wouldn't, huh?”

Steve scowled at Peter. The kid had an attitude problem – Tony couldn’t be a good influence on him.

“He still didn’t have to lie to me,” Steve grumbled.

“About what?” Peter asked, fishing a stray scallop out of the dip with his still-gloved pinky. He was going to have to wash the suit, that was so gross. 

Steve twisted his face, unsure if this was appropriate to bring up with a kid. He knew times were different and Peter probably knew more about all this than he did, but he still didn’t feel comfortable discussing the romantic life of someone the kid considered a parental figure.

“Just… something he told me,” Steve hedged. “When he, uh–”

“Totally rejected you?” Peter asked, innocently.

Steve grit his teeth. “Yes. That.”

Peter nodded, popping the scallop in his mouth and chewing. Then he stopped, actually swallowing before he spoke. “Wait, is this about him being aro?”

Steve grunted. Of course Tony’s protege knew about his romantic life. Why would Tony think it’s inappropriate to share something like that with a kid?

“Mr. Stark wouldn’t lie about something like that!” Peter’s voice was getting louder, spurred by a sudden outrage. “Why do you think he lied about that?”

Steve refused to answer. He would not bitch out a fifteen-year-old.

“Do you even know what it means? Mr. Rhodey told me you asked about it. You know how to Google, right?”

“ Yes, I know how to Google,” Steve snapped. “And it said there was no reason for people who were aromantic to pair up.” He gestured to Tony and Pepper, hands clasped and slowly spinning. He was trying to say ‘They’re a couple! So ha!’ without actually saying it. It seemed a bit juvenile to say it aloud.

Even not saying it aloud must have seemed juvenile to Peter because he rubbed a hand down his face, bringing the mask back down over his mouth with it. “Oh my God , you’re so old.”

“Hey,” Steve started but Peter held up a hand to cut him off.

“No, I know, you were stuck in the ice or whatever, and there’s been a lot to catch up on. I’m not mad, I’m just frustrated. But I’d rather it be me explaining this to you than you going to bother Mr. Stark about it.”

Steve still felt indignant – why did people believe he would bother Stark? – but it looked like he was finally getting an explanation so he valiantly kept his mouth shut.

Peter quietly flagged down a waiter and passed him the mostly empty tray, thanking him politely. He shook out his arms, turning back to Steve. “I don’t know why, I just felt like I needed my hands for this.”

Steve crossed his arms and waited.

Peter sighed. “So aromanticism is a lack of romantic attraction.”

Steve nodded. He knew that already.

“Which means Mr. Stark doesn’t get the mushy feelings or feel butterflies and all the good soft shit that comes with being in a relationship.”

Steve almost said ‘language’ but heroically resisted.

“ But ,” he said “Mr. Stark still has a lot of love in his heart and was critically under-hugged as a kid so he always makes sure to show his love like that. He’s… what did MJ call it…” Peter waved his hands around his head as if trying to catch the word he was looking for out of his brain. He snapped his fingers but it was muffled by the gloved of the suit. “Tactile!”

Steve nodded, remembering all the times Tony used to clap him on the shoulder or offer him snacks. Before, he’d used that as evidence for why he and Tony were headed somewhere romantic. But, if he’d really been paying attention, he’d have realized Tony did that for everyone.

“Full disclosure: I’m not aro and do not speak for all aros. Every aro is different, blah blah blah, disclaimer disclaimer.” Peter waved his hands, vaguely, making Steve glad he’d given the tray back. “You’re not going to find every aro is so free with cheek smooches.”

Steve nodded, his mind conjuring all those instances again of Tony pet-naming Rhodey or cheek-smooching Bruce. It put to mind something he’d read when he’d googled ‘aromantic’, but hadn’t really thought much about:

   “Aromantics are capable of feeling love - platonic love such as that between a mother and child or best friends is still love.”

  Wording it like that made it seem so obvious to Steve: of course aromantic people could feel love. It was a basic human emotion! Anyone who couldn’t feel love was a sociopath and Steve didn’t think Tony was a sociopath.

And even beyond that, he knew Tony could love. He saw how he behaved with Rhodes and Happy – the kind of fatherly love he had for Peter. 

And Steve guessed Tony could feel platonic love for Pepper. They may be a couple – an engaged couple – and Pepper could feel romantically about him, but Tony’s feelings could be totally platonic.

But– “Then why is he marrying her?” Steve asked, hoping he sounded more confused than whiney.

Peter shrugged, the eyes of his mask going a little scrunched as he smiled. “They make a good team,” he said, repeating his earlier sentiment. “They both wanted kids and they take care of each other.” He chuckles under his breath. “Also, I’m pretty sure Tony wants to make sure that Pepper is entitled to half his money.” He shrugged. “It makes sense.”

Steve nodded. He really was starting to feel better about this whole thing.

“I think I’m beginning to understand,” he mused. “Getting married to Pepper isn’t the same thing as making out with me in an elevator.”

Peter burst out laughing. “Oh my God , is that what happened? You tried to make out with him in an elevator?” Peter cackled.

Steve crossed his arms tighter, narrowing his eyes. “Yes, but it’s fine. You just explained–”

“Captain Rogers – Steve – no. Mr. Stark still likes,” he choked a bit on the word, “sex and stuff. He’s aromantic, not asexual. He just doesn’t want to fuck you .”

Now Steve was offended again. He spluttered a bit, trying to find words.

Peter was still laughing but he held up a hand to explain, “Well, some people are aromantic and asexual, but Mr. Stark isn’t. If he liked you, he would have no problem making out with you. He just really doesn’t like you.”

Steve threw up his hands, completely giving up.

He walked out of the ballroom, leaving Peter laughing behind him and Tony dancing, completely oblivious of everything Steve had just learned.

Tony was just out there existing however he goddamn pleased.

Whatever.

[technoplaguearchive]

Cruel To Be Kind (2/4)

Midoriya just wants to be a hero, Bakugou's hero, but Bakugou isn't having any of it.

Pairing: MidoriyaxBakugou / BakuDeku Rating: Teen & Up Category: M/M Fandom: My Hero Academia | Boku No Hero Academia Originally Published: 2019/04/06 on AO3 Chapter: 2 of 4

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Midoriya Izuku could not be described as particularly imposing or tall. He was a little shorter than other men his age and he looked, for all intents and purposes, like a changeling child; all wide eyes, freckles, and innocence.

Bakugou was starting to believe in the changeling child theory a little more at this instant, seeing the usually cherubic face twisted with disappointment and grim determination. That green energy that sizzled over his body when he fought seemed to be harnessed wholly in Midoriya’s eyes, eyes that were slowly burning a hole in Bakugou’s face. He could feel the disappointment radiating off that small frame.

He didn’t need to deal with this shit. He didn’t need Deku’s holier than thou attitude tonight, especially not after the day he’d had. A day that had just pushed him more to come out when he couldn’t stand being alone in his house with his own thoughts. All day he had heard about how Deku would have handled the situation better and he couldn’t take it anymore. He didn’t need a reminder of the pretty perfect boy’s utterly perfect way of dealing with everything in life. He didn’t need to see that heartbroken look crossing his face when he realized Bakugou wasn’t backing down. And wasn’t that just dumb because all their history together should have taught Midoriya that Bakugou didn’t cave to anyone, let alone a nerd like him.

“Move, nerd.” He shoulders roughly past Midoriya and tries to blend back in with the crowd by the bar. Close to the door, easy to get away after he took this shot. Speaking of... he tosses it back with a throw of his head and leans into the wall behind him. Deku, annoyingly, is still attached to him and watching him with impossibly huge green eyes. What the fuck was with this guy’s eyes? Who could possibly express so much with just their eyes? In all their years together, it had been one of the things that had bothered him; those eyes were fucking unnerving. “The fuck you following me for, Deku,” he growls out when the shorter man doesn’t stop his staring.

At the mention of the hero’s name a few heads swivel in their direction and Midoriya’s cheeks turn a wonderful shade of pink, making the freckles stand out more. Bakugou can’t help staring at those little perfect dots. Everything about the nerd was perfect- and wasn’t that just stupidly fucking infuriating? He watches as the hero’s scarred hands cover his face, trying to hide himself from people now starting to pull out their phones. The girl closest to him has hers out the quickest and already has it pointed at them by the time he snarls in her direction and swipes it from her. “Your mother ever tell you it’s fucking rude to video someone in a private setting?” The girls face pales as he leans across her to drop the device into her purse and he smirks at the reaction. Good, let them be afraid. Midoriya, when he finally looks back to see if the idiot was still cowering, looks aghast at the entire situation and is still standing there like he must babysit Bakugou to make sure he behaves. Gross.

“Ka-Kacchan?”

Ugh, here it comes.

This time Midoriya tugs on his wrist as he says his name. Bakugou rips his hand away, more forcefully than needed truth be told, and stares down into the face that haunts him. “Kacchan, maybe you should calm down. I- I can take you home?” He looks so endearing and honest as he says it, making Bakugou’s stomach twist. “I know I just got here but I really don’t mind if you need a ride home because you seem awfully drunk and this really isn’t like you. Should you really be out right now? Do you have to work tomorrow? Oh! I guess if you did then you wouldn’t-“

Bakugou slaps a hand over his mouth and leans in close to growl, “I wouldn’t fucking be here if I had to work, nerd, so stop your mumbling. It’s annoying and you’re drawing extra attention.”

Midoriya’s eyes skate side to side to see if anyone was paying attention. They were not, meaning Bakugou was just being a bully again to cover his feelings. Gently, Midoriya pries the blonde’s hand from his mouth and holds it between his scarred ones. They weren’t necessarily rivals anymore, not like how they were before at least, but this is still too much for Bakugou to take so he pulls his hand away to stuff it in his pocket.

“Kacchan, please let me take you home. You’re not acting like yourself and I don’t think the public needs to see a top hero acting like this. It might hurt your rating.” Midoriya’s words are full of concern that Bakugou doesn’t want to hear. He didn’t need this stupid talk, he’s given it to himself at least a hundred times over the last six months and he ignores it each time too. The green haired doofus is still talking when Bakugou tunes back into his rant. “I didn’t think you’d ever start drinking like this. How long has this been going on? It doesn’t seem like it’s for fun. Kirishima said that you’ve been doing this a lot more recently but at home. I’m glad that at least you’re staying home for it, no one can get video of you if you’re not out-“

Bakugou tunes him out again. Once Deku got on a rant there was no stopping him until he reached a conclusion or wore himself out. He focuses instead on starting to count the freckles on the green haired man’s face, realizing after the fifth one that he was staring at the same freckle because they were all starting to blur. Fuck, okay, so the alcohol was catching up. The glass in his hand finds its way to the small ledge on the wall- shit that would hurt if someone ran into it, that couldn’t be safe- and he leans forward into Deku’s space to tower over him and maybe intimidate him into shutting the hell up.

The effect, to his dismay, is quite the opposite.

Midoriya’s eyes squint up at him beneath green lashes and he stares up into Bakugou’s face and Bakugou had to wonder what Midoriya was seeing right now that would make him utter the next stupid sentence of, “You drink like a fish dying for water.”

Okay, that was out of left field and possibly the stupidest thing he’d ever heard come from Midoriya's mouth, but the response from the blonde is immediate and just as dumb. “Then I’m a fucking fish,” he gives the other man a smile that’s all teeth & malice, “glub glub, motherfucker.”

Satisfaction.

Midoriya’s face contorts into confusion for several seconds as he processes the ridiculous phrase. However he opens his mouth again and ruins it all once more. “Let’s get you home, Bakugou. You’re obviously not feeling well,” he says as he reaches for Bakugou’s arm.

Drunk or not, years of training has honed Bakugou’s instincts to be razor sharp and he twists away, knocking back into the previously mentioned ledge and sending his glass tumbling. Midoriya is quick with his own reflexes and catches it several inches before it hits the floor, green energy crackling and dissipating as quickly as it came. Bakugou is impressed and can tell Midoriya notices when he looks back up at him. Seeing the small smile tug at the green haired man’s lips is enough to reign Bakugou’s interest in and he schools his features quickly into annoyance. His arm throbs with pain and he knows it’s going to bruise tomorrow, if not tonight. It certainly wouldn't be the worst injury every for him, just the dumbest.

Midoriya turns to leave and Bakugou isn't sure if he's relieved or not at seeing the man’s back to him. The indecision is short lived when he watches him push through the crowd to deposit the glass at the bar and then turn back. By the time that passive face graces his vision once more he's decided he's going to err on the side of relieved that he was leaving but now just annoyed that he came back.

Slowly, like reaching out to a wounded animal, Midoriya places a hand near the sore spot on Bakugou’s arm, testing for a reaction. That scarred hand slides down to cover the sore spot and Bakugou hisses a breath in between clenched teeth. He's torn between ecstasy at being touched and pain at feeling coddled. They stay that way for several long seconds; Midoriya’s hand gently covering his injury and Bakugou staring down at it like he's never seen it before.

In the end, his pride wins out when he sees a flash of pink and red in the corner of his eye. Looks like the rest of the group came to find them... Or more likely to find Deku so they could fawn over him some more.

The thought is like an electric current jolting through his body, a feeling like being hit by one of Kaminari’s stray blasts ricocheting from the place where Midoriya is touching him to his brain and back again. It's enough to bring him to his senses and cause him to pull away from Midoriya’s scorching touch. Just in time, too, as Ashido and Kirishima spot them and make a beeline towards them, their looks equal parts pitying and relieved.

Kirishima claps Bakugou on the shoulder and hauls him into a bone-crushing hug. ”Oh man, I’m so glad we found you guys!” The tall redhead pulls back to look into his friend’s face and asks the loaded question, ”You guys okay?”

Bakugou opens his mouth to snap out ”Of course I am” but is beaten to the chase by Midoriya, who gives the exact opposite answer; ”I think Bakugou drank a little too much, I was offering to take him home. He still lives in the same apartment right?”

Were they really fucking talking like he wasn't standing right there? Did he suddenly become invisible in the last five seconds?! He's about to snap at them when Kirishima nods to Midoriya’s question. ”Yeah, the big flat by that bombass ramen place and with that knock-off coffee chain I can’t remember the name of.”

Ashido pats Kirishima’s shoulder consolingly. “You can’t remember it because you drank a lot of rainbows tonight, honey.”

“Oh, yeah that sounds right,” Kirishima chirps with a bright grin.

How was the idiot so happy that he couldn’t remember the name of the coffee chain? - Actually, Bakugou can’t remember it either right now. Shit.

Midoriya’s hand wraps back around Bakugou’s arm while he’s distracted and he gives him a slight tug, pulling the unsuspecting blonde slightly off balance and into him. Midoriya seems slightly surprised by this, if his face is any indication, while Kirishima and Ashido look positively delighted. Midoriya lets out a little awkward laugh. “I’ll get Kacchan home then. You guys have a good night,” he offers with a wave as he starts trying to tug Bakugou along behind him. Shocked at the brazenness of the green haired shortie, Bakugou lets himself be tugged along for all of five steps before he shakes free and stumbles back into Kirishima, who thankfully catches him under the arms and releases him quickly. Midoriya’s face is sullen when he turns back to see where his ward had disappeared to. Bakugou swears he catches a flash of pain when Midoriya sees Kirishima helping him but it's gone as quick as it came, leaving the blonde sure he was just imagining it.

”I don't need you to take me home, ” he growls. To his own ears, the words are a little loose around the edges; a sure sign he was verging on needing to be done with drinking. When Midoriya reaches back out to him he slaps the hand away with a pop of sparks, feeling only mildly regretful when he sees the shock register on the green haired man’s face. He can’t recall ever rejecting Midoriya so violently after their reconciliation.

“Kacchan, please-”

“Quit with your fucking hero complex, Deku. I don’t need saving. I don’t need your pity.”

“It’s not pity!”

The outburst seems to take even Midoriya by surprise and he claps his hands over his mouth. The sight would have made Bakugou laugh if he wasn’t so aggravated by the idiot’s need to protect him, as it stands he just wants to punch a hole in the nearest wall.

Kirishima, loveable idiot that he is, moves quickly between the pair with a large, yet forced, grin. “Come on guys, let’s just grab another drink and go back upstairs and hang out,” he turns to face the small green haired man beside him and gazes at him imploringly, “What do you say, Midoriya? I know you just got here, I’d hate to see you leave already.” Kirishima turns on the big sad eyes and Bakugou is glad he can only see the side of the idiot’s face. He knew that look well enough to know prolonged exposure almost guaranteed the receiver would do anything Kirishima asked. Deku, being the pushover that he was, would probably cave soon.

So it comes as a surprise to Bakugou when the nerd looks around Kirishima to pin him in place with a squinty-eyed stare. He could see that power in his eyes again, solely focused on him and determined. Bakugou feels a small shudder roll up his spine but swallows it down before it can overtake him. He knew the power that Deku possessed, knew if he wanted it to this would get ugly quick. Something feral in his mind snaps at that and Bakugou smirks, letting it overtake his face. Fine, if the nerd wanted to play then they’d play.

“Yeah Deku, you just got here,” he sing-songs smugly, “go hang out with everyone. I don’t need a babysitter, I’m a big boy.” Somewhere to his left he hears Ashido’s curse of “Oh fucking hell boys” then Kirishima is grabbing Bakugou around the waist to keep him away from Midoriya. He wasn’t even aware he’d moved towards him.

Midoriya nods to Kirishima who releases Bakugou and backs off. Some silent signal of ‘I got this’, which was just aggravating since when were they close enough to read each other? That feral beast in Bakugou’s head rises again, not liking that Kirishima was buddying up- no, no it didn’t like that Midoriya was getting close to Kirishima.

“I’m fucking out of here,” he snarls as he turns to exit their small group. It’s a fucking wonder they hadn’t drawn more of a crowd, as it is the people immediately surrounding their group trip over themselves to move away from him.

He sidles up to the bar again and, spotting a few drinks sitting there, grabs a shot and downs it. Fuck whoever it belonged to, he needed it more. The blue haired boy next to him gapes in disbelief and Bakugou tosses him a sneer for the trouble. A scarred hand wraps around his arm in a vice-grip from behind and starts hauling him back through the crowd, towards the exit of the club that he knew deposited into a shitty grimy alleyway. He didn’t really want to think right now about how he knew that alley was there or how gross it is, he just knew that was the only way out that direction. Which was baffling; wasn’t it making more of a scene to drag him through this crowd?

When the door closes behind them with a small yet ominous click, Midoriya throws Bakugou across the alley so they’re face-to-face. He can still hear the click of the door in his mind, the note of finality in it. So it was gonna be a fight, was it? Good, he could use a fight.

He steps forward towards the other man only to stop when he speaks. “I don’t want to fight you, Kacchan. You’re not even walking straight.” Bakugou scoffs at this and stumbles back into the wall behind him. “See,” Midoriya yells, “you can’t do anything right now without help. Just let me take you home.” He takes a tentative step towards Bakugou and reaches out, only to let his hand drop back down. “Please, Katsuki,” he whispers pleadingly.

That voice is his undoing in this moment. How dare Midoriya think him incapable! Did the nerd think he was better than him? Did he think he couldn’t take care of himself? He didn’t need saving, he wasn’t some helpless fucking idiot. And he was going to prove it.

Bakugou snarls and steps towards the green haired man before him, reaching out and steadying himself on his shoulder. He leans in close so they’re almost face to face and whispers with a growl, “Listen here, you little shit-“

Midoriya rears back and shoves Bakugou off of him. “No! You listen!” There’s desperation on his face, causing Bakugou to be stunned into silence. “You’re not fine! Why won’t you let me take you home? I thought we were past this, Kacchan.” Midoriya looks away now, ashamed, as if he’s said too much. His cheeks are stained a pretty pink that draws Bakugou’s eye. He bet they felt as warm as they looked... Nope, not the issue right now. He had to remember he was mad at Deku.

The nerd is still talking, rambling now about their past and how he thinks Bakugou can do better than this and what’s wrong because this isn’t like him- What the fuck did Deku know anyways? He didn’t know what kind of stress Bakugou was under!

Finally his last tether to staying any semblance of calm in this moment snaps and he lashes out with a poorly aimed explosion towards Midoriya, who sidesteps it easy and grabs Bakugou by the arm to sling him back into a wall. Bakugou is stunned momentarily before he regains his senses and turns to lash out again but Midoriya beats him to the punch, grabbing Bakugou’s fist and pushing him back again. This time he follows him back into the wall and holds the angry blonde in place with a forearm to the chest, faces close together. Bakugou takes the time to study the stern set to the green haired man’s brow, the way the space between his brows crinkled together and folded a freckle in half, the way his eyes looked sad even when they were angry-

“Kacchan you’re not even listening to me.” He presses his arm into his chest a little firmer for emphasis and sighs. “Why won’t you let me help you? We’re friends,” he trails off sadly and looks away aimlessly down the alley, “I thought we were finally friends.”

“Tch.”

Midoriya’s head snaps back at the signature noise.

“I’m not your charity case, Deku. Don’t know how many times I have to tell you that.”

That spark lights back up in the other man’s eyes and Bakugou can feel the deranged grin straining his face. He loved it when the nerd was ready to fight, it was better than that pathetic pitying look he usually wore. Maybe he could just push him over the edge and get this itch out of his system...

“I’m not some fragile little doll you need to protect like all your other friends,” later he’d realize he had confirmed they were friends, but not right now, “I don’t need fucking Deku to swoop in and save me. You’ve been doing this shit all our lives and I don’t fucking need your help. I don’t need anyone’s fucking help.”

He can see that fire snap and crackle in Midoriya’s eyes and the grin threatens to break his face now. Fucking finally.

Midoriya shoves against Bakugou before releasing him and jumping back in a crackle of green lightning, the energy dissipating as soon as he lands. Bakugou, meanwhile, can feel the sparks in his palms. He wanted to blow something up, to show he didn’t need anyone’s help. He didn’t need the pity. Midoriya has other plans though.

”Stop being like this!” The outburst startles Bakugou into letting the explosions building in him to die down and he straightens. Midoriya isn't done yet. ”Stop acting like you're on your own when you're not! You have friends, let us help you. We care about you, you idiot!” Bakugou can see the nerd sniffling now, tears pooling in the corners of his bright eyes. ”I care about you” he whispers, the quiet of the alley letting the words carry and caress Bakugou’s ears.

The look on the blonde’s face is one of shock and confusion which causes a derisive chuckle to slip from Midoriya. “Of course you don’t get it. You don’t think of anyone but yourself.” When Bakugou opens his mouth to refute this statement Midoriya holds a hand up to stop him. “You’re cold and unfeeling and blind, Kacchan. I’ve known this for awhile now and I’ve accepted it. We all have.”

Bakugou can feel the wetness building in his eyes and it agitates him, spiraling him into a frustrated rage. He wasn’t crying! He wouldn’t cry! Fuck this nerd! What did Midoriya know anyways?

“What is that supposed to mean, Deku?”

“Kirishima’s been in love with you since high school and you just let him keep acting like that-“

“Kirishima knows the score. You think it didn’t come up after all this time? You think I’d just let my best friend play the fool? Do you really think that low of me?” He doesn’t want to admit it but if Midoriya really did think so little of him, he didn’t know what he’d do. He’d spent so long trying to prove himself better than everyone only for Midoriya to shrink him right back down to the level of that scared kid who didn’t think he’d ever be good enough. “Well you know what? Fuck you! I’m not as fucking heartless as you make me out to be! You and everyone else think they know me and you don’t!”

Midoriya just looks exhausted now, the fight having seemingly drained out of him at seeing Bakugou so desperate and worked up. “We do know you. I know you, you big idiot. I’ve known you my whole life. Who else would know you better?,” he rubs his hands over his face and throws his arms wide, “You play like you don’t need anyone but you do, Kacchan! You more than anyone, needs someone, so just let me help! Let me just take you home. I don’t know why you’re getting so defensive about this.” His arms drop to his sides as he lets out a long-suffering sigh.

Bakugou’s temper snaps again, a chord pulled too tight and on the verge of breaking altogether. “Because you and every other fucking wannabe treat me with kid gloves!” He stalks towards Midoriya on the opposite side of the alley and pushes into him until the smaller man’s back hits the wall. “In case you haven’t noticed, Deku,” he sneers, “I’m not a little kid. I’m not some fragile little boy that needs a hero.”

Their faces are close now, too close almost, but close enough for Bakugou to feel Midoriya’s panting little breaths hit his chin and see his own reflection in his eyes. When he reaches up to place his hands on either side to cage the smaller man in, he can hear the soft little half-gasp that slips past his lips and he represses a shudder at it. God, this was too good of a look on him…

Midoriya swallows thickly and Bakugou unconsciously tracks the movement with a predatory gaze, red eyes burning with barely controlled anger and something he didn’t like to admit out loud. It’s the unnamed part that is his downfall, however, as Midoriya takes full use of the distraction to punch Bakugou hard in the stomach and send him backwards enough to put distance between them. When Bakugou finally gets control of himself several seconds later Midoriya is staring him down in determination.

“I know you’re not a little kid anymore. I’ve known that for awhile now. You’re strong and confident in ways you didn’t used to be.” He lowers his fist and stands up straight to stare Bakugou in the eyes. “I wouldn’t love you so much if you were that same kid.”

There’s a static hum starting back up in his ears, similar to when he’d seen Midoriya show up on that balcony, except there’s nowhere to fall back into and no Kirishima to hold onto to ground him. So he falls backwards until he hits the wall behind him, fingers gripping into the old brick as if that would be enough to ground him and quiet the insistent fucking buzzing in his head.

No. No no no no. Fucking no.

Midoriya did not just say what he thinks he did, did he? He couldn’t have. This has to be something he’s hearing from all the alcohol. He just imagining this shit and hearing what he wants to hear. His drunk ass brain is conjuring shit up because there is no way Izuku Midoriya just casually tossed out that he loved Bakugou. And if he did, he had to have meant it in some different way-

“Why else do you think I care so much what happens to you, Kacchan? Why else would I deal with your shitty attitude all the time and defend you to the public?”

Oh fuck had he been muttering out loud? Shit, he was around the nerd too much if he had picked up on that habit. Fuck his drunken ass brain he didn’t need this shit right now. Although it might have been only natural, they did grow up together and certain things were bound to rub off on each other. But no, none of that nonsense right now, he needed to address Deku’s completely idiotic ass statement.

“No one asked you to defend me, you stupid nerd. I didn’t ask you to care, either.”

Midoriya barks out a laugh then snaps his mouth closed quickly, as if he hadn’t meant for that to be out loud. When he lowers his hands there’s a sad putting smile on his face that raises Bakugou’s hackles.

“No one had to ask me. That’s not how love works. I just…. love you anyways.” He takes a tentative step towards the blonde then stops when Bakugou backs against the wall with a snarl. “Can you please let me take you home now so you can sleep this off and forget it all happened?”

What kind of shit was that? Who gives a fucked up love confession then tries to act like it didn’t happen? Did Midoriya not want to love him? Well screw that. If Bakugou had to be in love with this nerd for the past five years then he had to suffer too! And this was hands down the worst confession ever. This was not how he ever anticipated any of this going down. He had a plan, dammit! He was going to show up to Midoriya’s house with flowers and that stupid candy he liked and there was a speech he needed to work out and and- NO!

“Fuck your confession, nerd. No you can’t take me home and fuck you for trying to treat me like an invalid.” With one last growl he shoves off the wall and towards the door to go back inside.

“Where are you going,” Midoriya cries out, voice high with desperation.

“Back inside. I need another fucking drink.” He casts a scathing look over his shoulder. “Don’t fucking follow me.”

Bakugou can feel Midoriya’s eyes on him as he drags himself back into the bar, adrenaline drained and leaving him tired and foggy. Another drink would fix this. Or maybe a few more. However many it took to forget this entire fucking night had happened.

[bytheangell]

Take the Power Back

(Read on AO3) (SPOILER WARNING: This is a sneak peek continuation to the Maia scene released yesterday!) 

“You can’t just kick him out.” Maia hopes her words will catch on to whatever sliver of basic human decency she knows Russell has left somewhere deep, deep down.

“Watch me.”

Clearly she’s mistaken.

“We don’t need more fear right now. You can’t just terrorize everyone into agreeing with you!” She needs him to listen to reason but it’s clearly too high of an expectation for Russell.

“I can,” he points out. “But I don’t need to: I’m the Alpha, and you have to listen to me whether I scare you or not, little girl.”

Maia knows that it isn’t entirely cruelty fueling Russell’s words. He might act tough and infallible but she can sense exactly how much of it is an act to keep people too afraid to challenge him when he speaks. Even before he was Alpha it was a tactic he used frequently - get the majority of the pack behind him and Luke would feel the pressure to keep Russell happy enough to not start trouble.

But Maia isn’t stupid: now that he has what he wants, he’s afraid of losing it. He’s afraid of fucking up. He’s afraid of making the wrong call, and rightfully so, because he’s doing it right now.

Instead of rising to the bait of his taunting words, Maia keeps her mouth shut. She’s not about to play his game. Without saying another word to him or any of the other wolves she makes her way straight for the door that Bat just disappeared through.

“Don’t think I won’t kick you out with him!” Russell sneers at her back. “Luke isn’t around to protect you anymore. No more special treatment, Maia!”

She’s thankful he can’t see the frown on her face at the threat with her back turned to him. He’s not wrong - she spoke her mind plenty with Luke as the Alpha, because she knew he had her back when she was justified. Now it looks like intelligent debate and conversation are out the window in this new regime.  

She isn’t sure what she expects to see when she gets outside. Maybe a part of her hopes that Bat is already out of sight, resolutely determined to follow his gut and go to work, consequences be damned. She isn’t surprised, however, to see him pacing just a few feet away from the building.

“I’m going back inside,” Bat says before the door fully closes behind her. “I can’t do this.”

“Yes you can. He’s wrong to try and keep you indoors - we’re a pack, not his prisoners. He can’t do this.” Her arms cross over her chest as she shakes her head.

“He can. He is. And I can’t just walk away from the pack… I need you.” His eyes are pleading, tone helpless, and Maia’s struck by how vulnerable he looks. She isn’t sure if he’s speaking about needing the pack or needing her specifically; she supposes, right now, that in his mind they’re one in the same.

“...but I really need this job, too.” He continues, right back to pacing.  “And if I don’t show up they’re going to fire me, no questions asked.”

Maia sighs. “You aren’t going to lose me, alright? Even if he does something, I’m not going to abandon you. You have my word.”

“I’m not strong enough to be on my own, Maia. Even with you… I appreciate your help, really, I do. But I need the pack.”

There’s a fear in his eyes that breaks Maia’s heart. He’s so much stronger than he realizes but she has to admit that he has a point - they’re all better off with a pack in general, but he’s still so new to all of this. He needs an entire system of support, not just her.  

“Alright, so we’ll talk to him. I can get him to listen to me.” She hopes the words sound more confident than she feels about them because it sure didn’t sound like Russell was going to listen to her a minute ago, but she has to try. If not for her sake, then for Bat’s.

Bat attempts a half-smile but he’s shaking his head. “It’s pointless. You haven’t been here, he’s only gotten worse…” he looks down suddenly, unable to hold her gaze. Maia’s stomach sinks as she wonders just how bad things were in the time she was away.  “And even if he does listen this time, what happens the next time you aren’t here? I can’t always expect you to fight my battles for me.”

He’s being as nice as he can about it, but the implication is clear. She left him. She left all of them. Bat’s words sting but they aren’t unjustified: what happens the next time. Not if she leaves again, but when, like it’s an expectation now. She can take care of herself so why shouldn’t she come and go as she pleases?

One look at Bat, already resigning himself to losing his job for the sake of pleasing the whims of an entitled Alpha, and she has her answer.

Bat needs the guidance and solidarity of a pack… but not the sort that Russell is providing. That isn’t the example she wants any new wolf to learn from. It certainly isn’t the sort of attitude she wants the other pack members to start adapting, either. She was lucky to have Luke to take her in and guide her. To be her family. Because that’s what a pack is: a pack is a family, and it needs to be nurturing. It needs to let people grow, challenging them to be the best versions of themselves.  

Not whatever this is turning into.

Maia isn’t sure when she realizes the direction her train of thought is going. Its gradual, something that dawns on her slowly over the course of their conversation rather than a sudden moment of revelation.

It isn’t enough to keep saying that Russel is wrong, that his leadership is questionable and his mentality harmful. Saying it doesn’t fix the problem.

In fact, nothing is going to fix the problem so long as he’s Alpha.

She hates it, but with Luke gone she can’t just sit back any longer. She might be young but she’s smart, and she’s tough, and most importantly her heart is in the right place.  

“Don’t worry. I’m going to make sure you don’t have to choose between looking out for yourself and staying in the pack. In fact, I’m going to make sure none of us have to put up with his holier-than-thou attitude ever again.”

“You’re not going to do anything stupid, are you? Don’t, not on my account.” Bat’s gaze darts to the door behind Maia like he’s half-expecting Russell to come bursting out at any moment.

“Stupid may be up to interpretation,” Maia admits. “But it isn’t just for you. It’s for me, too, and all the condescending bullshit I have to put up with. It’s for every wolf in there he’s scared into submission; everyone who’s afraid to have an opinion of their own with Luke gone.” She sighs. “I don’t know why I thought I could run from this.”

“Maia, you’re not going to--” Bat starts, but the flash of fire behind her eyes stops his words dead. This isn’t up for discussion, her mind is made up.

“I have to. Someone has to put him in his place.” She holds her head a little higher, her back a little straighter, jaw set. “I don’t plan on leaving again, so if I’m here to stay it’s going to be on my terms.”

Ever since she came back to the city everything is different: with the Shadowhunters, with the pack, with Simon. She’s been trying to figure out where she fits again in the wake of everything that changed without her, feeling more than a little unsteady in her own world. For a little while she felt like she was spiraling and she hated the uncertainty that followed her every moment until now. This is the first thing that settles within her and it makes sense.

This is where she belongs, and it’s time for her to make it somewhere everyone can feel like they belong, too.

This is where she starts taking back control of her life.

Maia turns to go back inside, pausing just long enough to call over her shoulder, “Go to work, Bat. You’ll have a place to come back to when your shift is over.”

“I’m holding you to that,” he says, trying not to betray the fear he feels for her. Maia nods once in reply and reaches for the door, disappearing inside with grim determination.

She doesn’t plan on letting him down again.

[ourloveisforthelovely]

To the Ends of the Earth 14

Supernatural 

A/n: Supernatural AU. OOC Gabriel. Smut warning 

Link to Chapter 13

Pairings: Gabriel x Reader

______

Walking into the garage, you stopped the moment that you saw Dean leaned over Baby. You wanted to get out of the bunker unnoticed. Dean looked up as you threw your handbag into the passenger seat.

“Hey, where are you going?

You turned to your brother.

“On a drive...alone.”

Dean straightened up and wiped his hands on a towel.

“Did Gabriel and yourself have a little tiff or something?”

You rolled your eyes. A little “tiff” was one way to put it. You knew that Gabriel was throwing a lot of his venom at you because of Lucifer but you were not going to put up with it. When your brothers drove you nuts, you didn’t take your frustrations out on Gabriel. Hell, you were practically ready to kill Adam and Gabriel wasn’t the first in your line of fire. That was Adam’s job. Adam caused the problem and he was repeating the rewards of his behavior.

“Yeah, something like that. I won’t be gone long.”

Dean nodded before handing you a revolver that he had hidden in the garage.

“It has angel killing bullets. Before you give me a go-to-hell look it's not for Gabriel. I just want you to be safe if some shit head tries to attack you while you are out.”

You raised an eyebrow before looking back to your brother.

“You aren’t going to give me some kind of lecture about going out on my own?”

Dean shook his head.

“Won’t do me any good anyway. Besides, you’re a good hunter. We both know that. If anything happens, pray to Cas...or that guy you're with. What do you want me to tell him when he stops acting like a baby and wants to know where you are?”

You shrugged.

“Tell him that I went to get milk.”

Dean chuckled. He turned and went back into the house after giving you a wink. Sure, Gabriel would believe that you went to get milk. That was totally believable.

What do I care?

Dean thought with a giggle and went off in search of his third cup of coffee.

You, meanwhile, sped down the dark Kansas streets with the radio blaring. To your surprise, the phone hadn’t rung one time. You figured that Gabriel would have called as soon as you left the bunker. When he didn’t, you shrugged. Maybe he was still off being a baby, as Dean put it.

Being a baby...that was probably a harsh way to put it. The understanding side of your brain kicked in. Seeing Lucifer again had to be a huge kick in the balls for Gabriel. He never said it but you had the feeling that his brother’s departure from heaven still affected Gabriel to this day. The moment that you saw the expression of disappointment in Gabriel’s eyes...you understood everything. The two of you had not sat down and had one conversation in the time that he had returned. It was mostly snide remarks and comments about the other that wasn’t fixing a damn thing.

Your mind went to your own brother, Adam. Since the time that he had come back, the two of you were still not getting along. You sighed. From the moment he “died” you had prayed in some vain hope that he would come back. If Adam could just come back from the dead, you would fix everything that went wrong between the two of you. Now, here you were not fixing a thing.

Granted, not everything was your fault. A lot of it was Adam too. He didn’t want you to be happy with Gabriel. You tried to understand things from Adam’s point of view but you just couldn’t. If the shoes were on the other foot and Adam found some angel girl...you would be happy for him. Clearly, life was too short.

(meanwhile)

Dean stood in the kitchen with a tub of ice cream in his hands. This was the best part of his day!

“Oh ice cream, you have what I need.”

He said gleefully.

“That is just disturbing.”

Dean almost dropped his ice cream the moment that he heard Gabriel’s voice. He spun around to see the archangel staring at him with an expression of disgust on his face.

“Son of a bitch, Gabriel! Can you stop sneaking around here?! I am going to tell Y/n to put a bell around your neck or something! You made me drop my spoon!”

Gabriel shrugged as Dean threw his now dirty spoon in the sink and went in search of another.

“Sneaking is my specialty. Would you like a bowl or something? You are comparable to a caveman.”

Dean snorted.

“Me eating ice cream out of the carton is disturbing to you? I am sure that you have seen a lot worse than me eating ice cream this way.”

Gabriel grinned.

“Oh yes. I have. I destroyed Sodom and Gomorrah without blinking. That was probably a disturbing thing to witness.”

Dean winced. Gabriel had a pretty decent sense of humor but when he got on the holier than thou train; he could get downright righteous.

“Yeah, well…that makes me feel so much better about you dating my sister. I’m glad that you aren’t that archangel anymore.”

Gabriel smirked. He could still be that archangel if he wanted. If he remained with Michael and Raphael (not to mention the other angels that followed him around looking to be “herded”) it would be more than easy to be that angel again. Putting what you were on the back burner wasn’t an easy task.

“Dating is a strong word about what Y/n is to me. I don’t care what people do anymore. Clearly, it doesn’t change a thing. If you aren’t out murdering other humans or being a raging lunatic then do what you will.”

Dean was a little surprised to hear those words come out of Gabriel’s mouth. He didn’t even want to think about the word wife.

“Sounds like you have come a long way in the course of a few months with my sister.”

Gabriel shrugged.

“Maybe it was the finding out that everything my father taught us was a lie. Everything that I knew...isn't right. Anyway, none of that matters now. Where is Y/n? I was an ass to her.”

Dean walked to the refrigerator and put the ice cream back in the freezer.

“She went out. I gave her a gun with angel killing bullets. If anyone messes with her I don’t doubt that my sister will cap their ass.”

Gabriel groaned and disappeared. Dean sighed.

“He’s wasting whatever grace he had built up going after her.”

(back with you)

You flew down a road with music blaring. Tapping your fingers on the steering wheel, you were feeling better by the moment. You had to agree with Dean. Sometimes a nice long drive could fix everything.

Looking ahead, you frowned seeing someone standing in the middle of the road.

“What the fuck?”

You muttered before slamming on your breaks. The person didn’t move as you came to a stop about 6 feet from them.

“Son of a bitch...dumb ass motherfucker needs to use their brain.”

You muttered before getting out of the car.

“Hey! You can’t just be standing in the middle of the road like that, moron. That is how you get killed!”

When the man looked up, you almost screamed. It was Michael. He gave you that dark smile that haunted your nightmares from the first time that you had met him.

“Hello, Y/n.”

You frowned, feeling that surge of nervousness wash over you mixed with a feeling of anger.

“What’s up, sparkles?”

Michael frowned, looking obviously confused.

“What’s up? Sparkles? Is that a greeting?

You chuckled.

“It's the nicest greeting that I could come up with. I think that you should leave, we aren’t nice to archangels in these parts.”

Michael smirked.

“That isn’t what I have been hearing. From what I have heard, you make archangels feel very welcome. Maybe that is why my brother is staying nestled between your harlot legs.”

You scoffed.

“Dude, just say hoe. No one says harlot anymore. Way to make yourself sounds ancient as fuck. Furthermore, Gabriel stays because that is what Gabriel wants. I don’t think that you know your brother as well as you think. Gabriel doesn’t do a damn thing that he doesn’t want to do.”

Michael didn’t smile or make any facial expressions.

“I don’t think that you know my brother as well as you think that you do. Gabriel is not your little play toy. He has a job to do. It's best that you let him go and do it. I don’t care about what imaginary bond that you believe that you have….”

“I saw his wings. You, of all people, know what that means.”

Michael frowned.

“It isn’t possible. My father would never pair one of his sons with a filthy human...especially one of you Winchesters.”

“Jeez, Michael. We aren’t that bad! It sounds like you didn’t know your father that well after all. I am going to make it simple for you. Gabriel and I are together. You and that shit head brother of yours are going to have to find some way to accept it.”

Michael snarled. He raised his hand to snap you out of existence.

“Enough!”

Both Michael and yourself turned to see Gabriel a few feet behind you. Boy, did he look mad! His golden eyes were glowing in fury as he kept his focus on his older brother. You glanced back at Michael, who looked as stunned as you did.

Quickly looking back to your lover, you couldn’t help but worry how long his grace would hold out. If he went completely empty against Michael, neither of you would stand a chance. You put your hand on your side to find the gun that Dean had given you.

“Not yet.”

Gabriel muttered as he wrapped his arms around you. He gave you that little playful smirk that made your knees weak.

“Hey, sugar.”

Gabriel said with a smile. One arm went around your waist while his other hand reached up to cup your cheek.

“Gabriel, stop this!”

Michael snapped. Gabriel glanced over his shoulder to his very angry looking brother. Gabriel laughed coldly before turning his attention back to you.

“Everything will be just fine, sugar.”

He tilted your face to his before leaning down and kissing you. Gabriel could feel the rage going through Michael as he wanted with a sneer on his face.

This kiss was different from the ones the two of you had shared before. Gabriel was more commanding. This was more like kissing the archangel that you read about. You closed your eyes, losing yourself in the moment.

“Gabe…”

You moaned happily in your mind. Gabriel smiled against your mouth as he sucked at your bottom lip. The moment that his wings wrapped around you, you could have come apart in his arms. This was by far one of the most erotic and intimate moments in your relationship and Gabriel wasn’t even inside of you. Maybe it was the fact that he was proving to the chief asshat in charge that your bond wasn’t a joke?

Gabriel was the first to move away. He gave you a small smile before shoving you behind him. Gabriel turned his attention back to Michael, who looked ready to scream.

“Hello, brother.”

Michael’s eyes rolled to his brother’s face.

“You bonded with a human.”

Gabriel nodded before looking a bit annoyed.

“True. Father told me that it would happen thousands of years ago. I didn’t think he was right but look where I am now. If you think for one moment that I am going to sit back and let you lay a hand on her, you are very very wrong.”

Michael growled again.

“Do you see a possibility where this is going to work out? You are both entirely different species. Gabriel, you know what happens when angels fall in love with humans. You were there when we killed the fallen angels that took human wives. Now here you are following in their footsteps. What are you going to do when your whore becomes pregnant? Do you think that I am going to stand by and watch a Nephilim be created?”

Gabriel smiled, coldly.

“There is already one that you don’t know about. Clearly, it wouldn’t affect your stupid ass much.”

Gabriel snapped his fingers sending Michael tumbling backward.

“Don’t you ever call my girl a whore again.”

Michael struggled to stand up. He gave Gabriel an ice-cold glare.

“Gabriel, you are insane. You will both go to hell! I’ll never let you back in heaven again!”

Michael vanished before Gabriel could launch another attack.

Gabriel looked around carefully. Something told him to keep an eye out for Michael. A sneak attack seemed like such a Michael thing to do. When he didn’t show back up, Gabriel turned back to you. He smiled looking at the worried expression on your face. Your green eyes were wide as Gabriel reached out with his wings and pulled you to him.

“Hi princess.”

He said with that shy smile that won your heart in the beginning.

“Hi, darling.”

Gabriel kept his wings around you. Maybe it was to keep you safe from any sneak attacks or to keep your bodies together. At the moment, you didn’t care. You were enjoying every caress that Gabriel had to give you.

“I owe you an apology for earlier.”

Gabriel said with a smirk. He brought your hand to his mouth and pressed a soft kiss to each finger tip.

“It's fine, Gabe. Just so you know, I didn’t come looking for Michael. His stupid ass was just standing in the middle of the road like a moron.”

Gabriel nodded.

“I saw the whole thing. No one said that my brothers were smart.”

Gabriel lowered his mouth back to yours. You wrapped one hand in his leather jacket while the other stroked up his back. The moment that you stroked over his wing joints; Gabriel shivered. He groaned against your mouth and involuntarily rocked his hips into yours.

“You know what I want now.”

He said as his voice deepened a few octaves. You glanced over your shoulder making sure that there were no signs of life.

“We’ve never had sex in the car before.”

Gabriel gave you that devilish little smirk that got him whatever he wanted from you.

“We are about to now.”

He quickly hid his wings before walking to your SUV. Opening the door, he wiggled his eyebrows.

“Come here, princess.”

You didn’t hesitate before quickly joining Gabriel. The moment that you shut the door, you were naked. You quickly looked back to Gabriel, who sat looking at you with that cocky grin. Swallowing, you let your eyes fall down the archangel’s body. The muscles in his chest and stomach tightened as he ran his hand over his hard-on.

“As much as I would love to have that pretty mouth on me; I don’t think that I can wait. Touching my wings like that has turned me into a needy mess. Don’t make me ask you twice to come over here, sugar. I know that you are wet.”

You sat motionless a moment before practically diving on the archangel. He knew exactly how to turn you into a needy wet mess with only a few words. Placing a knee on either side of Gabriel’s body, you took him from tip to base without any regards in adjustments. Gabriel groaned, muttering something in Enochian.

The pressure between your legs intensified as Gabriel used his grace to press down on your clit.

“Gabe, you tease.”

You muttered. Gabriel laughed as he squeezed your ass.

“I should call you a tease for feeling me up in front of my brother. It was hot though.”

You smiled against his mouth as Gabriel increased his pace.

“Would you like to see a new trick?”

You asked, between kisses. Gabriel shook his head.

“If it involves me not being inside of you at the moment then no.”

You shook your head. There was no way that you were about to pull away from your archangel now.

“Oh, sweet boy I am not going anywhere.”

You carefully spread your legs to your side so that you were in a split position. Internally, you thanked Dean for talking you into getting the bigger SUV. This would make for a good thank you note for Dean later!

Gabriel’s eyes flashed bright gold as he went deeper, if possible. You clenched your eyes closed as his cock pressed firmly against your cervix. Rocking your hips, you enjoyed every deep thrust that Gabriel had to give you. You leaned down and pressed your mouth to his neck. Gently biting down, you felt Gabriel’s cock twitch.

“Put your wings out.”

You moaned softly against his neck. Gabriel whimpered “lord help me” in Enochian before fulfilling your request. Reaching behind Gabriel, you wrapped your hands around his wing joints. The moment that you gently yet firmly pressed down, Gabriel’s torso lifted from the seat. His arms wrapped around your body. He pulled you as tightly to him as possible.

Gabriel slammed his hips upward. His thrusts became deeper and more frantic. Your head fell backward with each perfectly timed thrust.

“Gabriel!”

You whimpered his name making the archangel moan.

“Sweetheart, don’t stop. Keep messing with my wings! Don’t stop.”

Gabriel whispered the last “don’t stop” knowing that there was no way that he was going to be able to hold on much longer.

You stroked your hand up his spine continuing the assault on his wing joints. To say that you were pleased with all of the desperate moans that Gabriel was making was an understatement. Normally, he liked to be in control but today it was different. Today, you were fulfilling one of his darkest dirtiest fantasies.

“Harder, Y/n, Pull harder! I need to come.”

Gabriel groaned. You wrapped your hands around one of his wings before tugging. Gabriel buried his face in your neck and bit down. The moment that your body tightened around his, Gabriel couldn't hold on any longer. He came hard inside of you as he bit down once more.

“Not done.”

Gabriel muttered as he increased his pace to fuck you through his own orgasm.

“Come for me, pretty girl. I want to feel you come apart. I filled you up now come for me, sugar.”

Gabriel slammed his hips into yours once more. Between the pressure on your womb and Gabriel’s erotic whispering; you came hard.

You were so lost in the moment that you didn’t feel Gabriel ease out of you. He gently pulled you into a lying position so you were snuggled on top of him and against his chest. Gabriel stroked his hand through your hair as you came down from your high.

“You okay?”

He asked, softly. You nodded, feeling unable to speak for the moment. Everything was perfect for the moment. You lay snuggled against his body having no will to move. If you didn’t feel so thoroughly fucked, you could ask Gabriel to make love to you again. His cock was still hard against your stomach, making your own core twitch.

“I’m perfect.”

You finally managed to say in a soft voice. Gabriel chuckled and leaned down to kiss your head.

“I think that you’ve given me a wing kink. That was intense.”

You giggled, moving your legs to adjust in the back seat of the SUV. Gabriel didn’t even have to tell you that it was intense. You could feel the results of your love making leaking down your thighs.

Closing your eyes, you wanted to savor the moment as much as you could. The next few moments were quiet and peaceful. As you began to drift off in Gabriel’s arms, you began to think about Michael’s comments about Nephilim. Gabriel and Michael had killed other angels for making Nephilim. Raphael’s comment about Gabriel having a “villainous side” came back to mind. Would he take that villainous side out on you if something did happen?

“Gabe, what happened with the whole Nephilim thing?”

Gabriel’s body tightened underneath yours. The hand that was stroking yours stopped in mid-motion.

“I think that you know that answer to that, Y/n.”

Gabriel said, idly. You slowly sat up and perched yourself on Gabriel’s waist. The archangel groaned as your wetness pressed against his still hard cock.

“I don’t know anything. Gabriel...what if…”

Gabriel’s eyes opened. He gave you that scowl that told you he was getting annoyed.

“If what?”

You looked around as if looking for someone overhearing the conversation at hand. Suddenly, you felt very naked and vulnerable. It didn’t matter that you had the most passionate, mindblowing sex ever! It also didn’t matter that Gabriel has seen you naked hundreds of times. You felt like a bug under his unblinking gaze.

“What is going to happen if I get pregnant?”

Gabriel shifted his arm underneath his head. He didn’t look the least bit worried or concerned with your sudden fear.

“It isn’t going to happen.”

You frowned. Here came the archangel.

“I’m sure the other angels thought the same thing before their lovers got pregnant too.”

Gabriel’s golden eyes narrowed.

“I said that it isn’t going to happen. Now get off of me, woman.”

You quickly did as you were told before Gabriel pushed you off. The expression on his face alone told you that he was absolutely livid!

What you didn’t know was Gabriel was internally panicking! He had been pretty good about making sure any unplanned pregnancies didn’t happen. The last thing that he wanted was to be creating a Nephilim that he would have to spend the rest of forever protecting. His mind went to Jack for a moment. His nephew was a good kid but he wasn’t Gabriel’s responsibility. You were his responsibility and anything childlike that came out of you would be his responsibility. Gabriel wasn’t strong enough to be protecting a nephilim at the moment. The night’s activities had drained him of what grace he had recharged.

“You definitely didn’t do a damn thing to protect her just now.”

Gabriel’s mind supplied. He mentally kicked himself when he thought about the sex the two of you just had. This had been the most sensual not to mention intimate sex ever and he didn’t think one bit about stopping a damn thing.

You, meanwhile, had already redressed. Gabriel sighed, looking at you. You were upset and it was his fault. Again, his temper had gotten the better of him. This time it was for good reason. Gabriel was not meant to be a father. Being bonded to you was the most that was meant to happen!

Gabriel sighed, thinking back about the Nephilim situation from the past. You didn’t have to be a part of that nightmare, Gabriel did. This was before God told Gabriel about his own future with a human wife. Gabriel didn’t care then. Now he wasn’t so sure...

Gabriel stood behind Michael as he stared down the fallen angels and their wives. He knew the expression on their faces...fear. It was painfully obvious that the beings in front of him were scared for their lives. Maybe not only their lives individually but the lives of the family that they had created. Gabriel wanted to feel sorry for them but he couldn’t. They had broken the rules. Rule breakers had to be punished and this was one of the most deadly and dangerous rules to break!

As Michael went on and on about the rules that the angels before them broke; Gabriel focused on their pitiful expressions. Right away, Gabriel noticed an angel that he never expected to go rogue standing before him. Eli looked petrified (and with good reason. Gabriel thought). The woman at his side clung a small toddler. The child looked around, not understanding what was going on or his parent’s fear.

“You’re all going to die for breaking one of heaven’s most clear rules. Angels and humans do not mix. Creating what you all have created is wrong….it's an abomination and a sin against nature.”

Michael said, coldly. Eli focused his attention to Gabriel. The archangel was his leader against the darkness. If anyone could save him and his family, it would be Gabriel.

“Gabriel, please…please do something.”

Gabriel’s sullen expression didn’t change as he looked at his subordinate.

“You know heaven's laws. They aren’t here for some of us to follow and some of us not to. Regardless of your affiliation with me, you know the punishment.”

Michael turned to Gabriel with a pleased smile.

“Take care of the problem.”

Gabriel nodded. He didn’t give Eli another chance to speak before waving his hand and the whole group in front of him vanished with a pained scream...

Gabriel pulled himself from the memory before turning to look at you. You had already started driving back toward the bunker silently. Gabriel sighed. He knew that his temper had won again. You wanted the truth. You deserved the truth....

“Look at that...I have fallen too.”

________

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