#these two having those stupid goatees

[alphaclxwn]

the sole reason i dont ship aleduncan as much as id like is bc their dumb ass facial hair limits me

they get stuck together like velcro

[emsleyanbluejay]

if i had a nickel for every time i’ve threatened to tie a wrestler down and shave them, i’d have two nickels, which isn’t a lot, but it’s weird that i’ve done it twice

[fixyourwritinghabits]

Listen, I know we all have stuff to do and summer is coming up and aaaaaaaargh, but in the name of Optimus Prime I'm begging y'all to shed the habit of using descriptors like 'the shorter one' or 'the blond one' instead of using proper names.

This is a very common trope in fanfiction, and I get it, it gets so boring to write the character names over and over again. I also know it will be so hard to unlearn, don't ask me about the pain and suffering I have endured. But you have to break yourself out of this habit, because all it's doing is making your stories harder to follow and losing your readers.

Let's say you're writing an Avengers fanfic, and you've got Captain America, Iron Man, and Thor in the room together. The following scene might go a little something like this:

"We must stop Unicron," the blond one said, flexing his muscles.

"Indeed," the dark-haired one replied. "If only he weren't so handsome for a metal monster."

"Thou is speaking nonsense," the bearded man said, subtly flexing his biceps harder. "Also, who is speaking right now?"

(Yes, I did write Unicron instead of Ultron like I'm pretending not to be a nerd, shut up.)

The actual dialogue tag indicators above are nonsense, pure gibberish, and those exaggerated for effect, wouldn't it just be easier to follow if you just used names? Also, sometimes Tony's goatee is more beard-like so it's even less helpful in figuring out who's talking. Depends on what era of comics you're reading.

ANYWAY, Who is doing what is one of the most important things you need to convey. In a busy dialogue scene, in a high action scene, especially in a romance scene between two people of the same gender, clarity is key. It feels boring to write, I know. It will be a better scene in the end.

So when should you use character descriptors in your writing?

When you need to reiterate an important character feature that is either relevant to how the main character views them or how they view themselves. Example: Her brother, the soldier, the Hobbit, etc.

When you need to reiterate an important character feature to the plot. Example: The god of thunder, the stowaway, the white witch, etc.

When you have a minor character who is better defined by their job or role than there name. Example: The second mate, the boatswain, the cook, etc.

When appropriate to the scene. This one is harder to define, but if you have a quiet moment where the main character reflects on the scoundrel he has a crush on, long paragraphs of just using the name Alex might be better peppered descriptors of his personality or notable features, or - depending on your character - 'that cocky asshole.'

When shouldn't you use character descriptors? When they are boring, unhelpful, and not distinctive. Referring constantly to someone as "the taller man" or "the blonde" will come back to haunt your ass years down the road, believe me. Break free from this prison before you snap awake at 3am, haunted by the one stupid scene you can never unwrite.

[angelwings-crossbowstrings]

I’d Break the Back of Love for You

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Setting: Commonwealth (No France)

Warnings: Oral (f receiving), sexual situations

Summary: You have some serious appreciation for Daryl’s shoulders.

A/N: As you should, reader. As you should.

gif by @daryl-dixon-daydreams

“How long will you be gone?” You asked before popping a strawberry into your mouth. Daryl had brought them home upon his return only two days prior. You didn’t ask where he found them and he didn’t offer, but he wasn't banged up so he likely didn’t risk life and limb for them. Well, anymore than he always did by going outside the safety of the Commonwealth. 

He was already gathering supplies to head out again after a broadcast that Eugene had picked up on the radio. There wasn’t much to it. Just a couple of scrambled words and a lot of static. Not enough, in your opinion, for Daryl to run out and risk himself. 

The archer gave you a quick look, a corner of his mouth tugging upward when he noticed the plate of strawberries by your hip. “Few days maybe.” He answered, wrapping some bread and grabbing a couple of refilled bottles of water. He placed the items next to his shirt, on the counter you were currently calling a seat. 

When he scratched at his chin, your eyes followed his movements but lingered once he had dropped his hand and moved on with packing. His goatee was more of a starter beard these days, no time for trimming. It didn’t bother you. The salt-n-pepper hair felt good when scratching against the right patches of skin. 

There were so many things about your archer that you could admire in that regard all day if you ever had the chance. 

The obvious one being his cock. You couldn’t say it was the biggest you’d ever seen but it was definitely to be admired. The first time, back on the Greene farm, he’d pushed into you and you’d nearly came from the stretch alone. It wasn’t just about size though. The man knew how to use it to make you come apart over and over. It always made you want to giggle when you would think back to how socially stunted he had been one day and then the next, he was fucking you stupid over Hershel’s porch railing. 

His hair was so long now, the waves taking off a few inches. It was well onto his back when wet. You could still remember when it was barely over his eyes. You had loved it then too. But now, when you would bathe together, you’d have him sit in front of you so you could wash it for him. You’d always end up playing with it; braiding it or carding your fingers through it. However, the best thing was how it clung to his face and neck when he was sweaty after a thorough fucking. You’d push it off of his face, letting your fingers catch on the tangles as you kissed him. 

His hands were so much bigger than yours. On the few lazy mornings you were granted, when Carol would get the kids to school for you, you’d just lie there and hold your hands together. With your palm flat against his, he could bend his fingers over the tops of your own. It was easy to imagine his thick fingers inside of you. He had sent you tumbling into oblivion plenty of times with only one curling within your walls. Those hands didn’t just hold weapons; they worked magic, too. 

But it was the man’s shoulders that did you in. All that lean muscle that contracted and moved as he lifted and tugged at things to pack. You’d never admit it, but the nights alone in his absence, it was the thought of your legs over those broad shoulders and his face buried in your cunt that brought you to completion over and over. 

You really needed to hide any of his shirts that weren’t tank tops. 

Who would’ve thought that out of any part of that man, the one that would make you almost instantly wet was his “shoulders—”

“What?” 

You shook your head and looked around a bit wildly until you found his gaze and locked on. “Hmm?” 

“What ‘bout my shoulders?” He asked as you lifted another strawberry toward your lips. His question had you fumbling the fruit, catching it at the last second before it could fall to the floor. 

You laughed nervously. “Shoulders? What? I didn’t say—” you stuffed the entire berry into your mouth to stop your embarrassing rambling. Hopefully, he’d just let it go and keep packing. 

That hope went careening out the window when he looked down at his right shoulder and then back at you, a smirk on his face and a twinkle in his eye. 

“Nah, ya definitely said somethin�� ‘bout shoulders.” He sat the canteen he had been about to fill next to the sink and started walking toward you. “Still got my hearin’, Sunshine.”

You felt heat pooling in your cheeks and…other places when he leaned into your space, a hand braced on either side of your hips. The strawberry was swallowed down with an audible gulp. 

“I, uh, like your shoulders.” You whispered. Daryl laughed in the form of an exhale and leaned in closer, his lips coming to press against the side of your neck. Maintaining any sort of control was almost futile. “Daryl, you need to get packed.” You attempted to sway him but he simply hummed against your flesh. 

“Whatcha thinkin’, pretty girl?”

You groaned but leaned back your head to grant him more access. “A lot of things that are gonna make you late.” He didn’t respond to that. Not verbally. He grabbed your hips and pulled your body to the edge of the countertop, your groin coming into contact with the evidence of his own arousal. 

“You’re right.” He rasped against your collarbone. With one roll of his hips, you both gasped from the friction. “I guess I should be gettin’ on with packin’.” He rolled his hips again, growling against your jaw. “D’rather have those legs’a yours over these shoulders.”

You whimpered and squirmed against him, mewling when the rough fabric of his jeans grazed against your sensitive core through your thin sleep shorts and panties. That voice of his always made you putty in his hands. “I—please, Daryl.” 

“M’gonna give ya whatcha need, Sunshine.” He leaned back and tapped both of your biceps. “Up.” Your arms were immediately raised and your shirt pulled over and off. The cold air against your nipples had them hardening before Daryl could even touch you. 

Your small hands found his shoulders, gripping tight while he worshiped your breasts with mouth and hands. The skin of his palms was rough and calloused but that alone brought you so much pleasure. He cupped your left breast, kneading the soft mound and pinching your nipple while circling his tongue over its twin. You had never been so sensitive to a man’s touch in your life, but Daryl could play your body like an instrument. 

He pulled off of your breast with a wet pop and searched out your lips, his tongue pressing through to tangle with your own. 

“Lay back.” He ordered against your mouth. You did as you were told, only slightly embarrassed by how you knew your wetness was showing through your shorts. Of course, that was the first thing he noticed when he took a step back. “So wet for me an’ I’ve barely touched ya.” His thumb pressed into your clothed opening and trekked upward, earning a few panted moans and a raise of your hips. 

He continued past your pussy until he reached the waistband and turned his hand to dip his fingers underneath it. Joined by his other, he pulled your shorts and panties off in slow movements, letting them fall onto the floor. 

His large hands pressed into your inner thighs to open you up so wide that it bordered painful. All you could do was bite your lip and watch him. His tongue creeped across his bottom lip, and you shivered. 

“Prettiest pussy there ever was.” He commented absently, releasing one of your legs so he could slide his index finger up and down your slick lips. He was rewarded with a needy whine and the sight of you clenching around nothing. With a smirk, he moved his finger straight to his mouth, not pushing it past his lips until you opened your eyes. “Sweet lil’ thing too.”

“Daryl.” You whined. You both knew you weren’t above begging. It was only a matter of whether or not he wanted to hear it this time. 

“I gotcha, Sunshine. Gonna make ya feel real good, okay?”

You had zero doubt about that. 

“Sit up for me.” 

You planted your palms on the counter and came up to meet him, wrapping your hand around the back of his neck to drag him in for a kiss. He chuckled, a sound you adored, and pulled away from you to sink to one knee. A sweet kiss was pressed into your left thigh and then he was looking up at you. Oh, you were burning that sight into your memory for later. He placed his hands beneath your knees and stilled, smirking. 

“You’re gonna need to hold on, pretty thing.”

You gave him a quizzical look but then he pulled you forward, his face diving into your waiting cunt as his hands quickly moved to your ass. You had just enough time to twist your fingers in his hair before he was rising from the floor. 

“Oh, fuck.” You yelped, not just at the sensation of his tongue breaching your opening, but also at being six feet off the ground. How the man knew where to walk was anyone’s guess but his steps were sure. Your back pressed against the wall beside the refrigerator, giving him a little leverage to really work at your pussy in earnest. 

The initial shock had worn off, now replaced by the sensations his mouth was causing and the absolute thrill of legitimately being perched on those fucking shoulders while he devoured you like a man starved. 

“Fuck, that feels good.” You praised, fisting one hand in his hair while the other came up to palm the wall beside your head. He knew exactly what he was doing in every sense at that moment. You could feel the tense muscle below your thighs. His tongue delving deep inside your fluttering walls. His nose rubbing against your rapidly swelling clit. His beard scraping your overheated flesh. 

A new wave of arousal seeped out of you and he groaned, happily lapping it up with sounds that definitely did not belong in a kitchen. The cord inside you was heating up, coiling tighter and tighter in your belly, an absolutely delicious feeling of both tension and ecstasy building and yearning just below the skin. 

When he slid his tongue up through your wetness to flick at your clit, you almost couldn’t stand it; desperate to cum and hear him cooing praises after he drank every drop, but also wanting to savor the delectable journey toward an inevitable mind blowing orgasm that would likely leave you unable to speak anything but his name. 

“Fuck, oh, right there!” You slapped your palm once against the wall with a long, wanton moan. You wanted to grind against his face, aid in coaxing your high out of you, but he seemed to know exactly what you were thinking. His grip on your ass tightened and he pressed face even closer to you, lips encircling your bundle of nerves to suck at it while his tongue worked it from inside his mouth. “Goddamn, Daryl! Fuck!”

He went back to kitten licks, tilting his head down so his nose continued to press at your pulsing nub while he slurped up any new arousal that had dripped out of your entrance.

He was killing you. And you loved it. 

Daryl Dixon may have been called many things in his life, but absolute destroyer of pussy needed to be added to that list. When he wasn’t sucking your ability to think right out of your clit, maybe you could remember to call him that in front of one of your friends. 

“Fuck.” You felt like you could almost cry, your orgasm not just creeping closer but sprinting. “Daryl, I’m—I’m gonna cum.” He gave your ass a hard squeeze, his way of demanding you let go. 

It was gradual, a pins and needles sensation that started from where his lips pulled tightly on your clit and spread out through your limbs, causing them to begin trembling. Then it was all at once, a wave of pleasure hit you so hard that you jerked and the back of your head hit the wall while your hands pulled roughly on his hair. There were a few moments unaccounted for, your vision overtaken by darkness and stars and the distant sounds of your own screams of his name. 

When you came back to yourself, your arms were dangling uselessly. You were panting while your body spasmed through the last pulses of your high. And Daryl was eagerly lapping up every drop. 

Once you were completely spent, you felt one of his large hands slid up to brace the small of your back while the other lifted one of your legs from his shoulder. He switched, gripping just above your hip on that side to keep you from falling while he moved your other leg. Then you were sliding down until he stopped you just in front of his face, his lips readily pressing against yours. 

You could taste yourself on his tongue, feel your own wetness smearing across your face from where it had gathered on his beard. The kiss itself was sweet and lazy and loving, whispered praises between each press of his lips. Your feet slowly touched the floor and his hands came up to cradle your face. 

You wanted to melt against him and beg him not to leave you. To clean you up and take you to bed so you could surprise you both by climbing above him and riding him until he filled you over and over. That fantasy had you reaching to cup him through his pants, feeling the straining hardness for only a moment before he gently grabbed your wrist. 

“Let’s take a bath an’ getcha cleaned up an’ ready for bed.”

You pulled back, frowning in confusion. “Don’t you have to leave?” You felt your heart spin when he gave you the sweetest smile; the one he gave to only you. 

“Nah, need to be here.” He tucked your hair behind your ear, one side and then the other, before gently cupping your chin and kissing you. “They can send someone else.”

“You mean it?” You asked, eyes sparkling with more hope than you meant to reveal. 

“Nah, lemme go an’ finish packin’.” He started to turn away but you caught one of those beautiful shoulders to easily spin him back to you. He deflected your attempt to smack him by ducking and hoisting you up over the very same shoulder you had grabbed. “You’re stuck with me.” 

“Oh, woe is me!” You laughed, kicking your legs to get out of his hold. You didn’t even remember you were still naked until he gave your ass a gentle smack as he walked up the stairs. Once at the top, you wiggled forward so you could reach and slap his ass one good time. “Hey, if that’s what happens when I say your shoulders are sexy, what would you do if I said you have a nice ass?” 

He barked out a laugh that you didn’t hear often enough and used the heel of his boot to kick the door closed. 

[mychoombatheroomba]

Fade Out

Between the Bones (Leon x GN! Reader) - Chapter 53

You and Leon are questioned following the events on base.

(Cross-posted from Ao3)

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Chapter Index

TW for angst and government manipulation but what else is new?

You didn’t really know where you were, only that the room was familiar. A one-way mirror. A simple table. A recording device. An empty chair across from you. A little TV on the corner of the table.

You’d been in a room like it once before, when you gave your report on what happened in Finland over a year ago. 

Now, here you were, history repeating itself; returning to you in new clothes but with the same violent intentions. You’d thought you had been cresting a hill in feeling your pain ease. Now you knew that you’d just been the unknowing fool strapped to a wheel, turning up to see the sun only to get crushed against the ground once more. 

So you let yourself be pressed down by the weight, wishing you could well and truly sink into the earth. It was easy to fall into that mindset by yourself, you found. 

In the days following this newest nightmare, you and the others had been isolated. A safety precaution to prevent the spread of the virus, and to keep anyone from taking action. Now, though, you’d been escorted from your quarantine and taken to this room, where you knew questions would be waiting for you. You didn’t want to talk about what had happened now any more than you had after Finland. You didn’t want to speak into reality what was already building a cage around your mind. 

Not that you had a choice. 

The door opened without you being ready for it to. A man walked in, carrying a manila folder. Tall. Brown hair. Pale, gaunt cheeks. Another fine-pressed suit, complete with one of those stupid ties that only cowboys should wear, but assholes from old money always seemed to love. 

“Good morning, Sergeant,” he greeted, already sounding like he knew everything in the world. 

Then there’s no need to talk to me. 

You didn’t speak back as the man settled into the chair opposite you, clicked the record button on the machine in front of him, holding the folder in his lap. He spoke your rank and name into the air, alongside the word “debriefing” as if that’s what this was. “Presiding officer: Derek C. Simmons.” He fixed his gaze on you, then, and it began. 

⧫⧫⧫

Leon knew the man across from him. 

He knew that aged face, the hair that was already beginning to gray, the rectangular glasses. Hard to forget a person who forced you into military service. Who had weighed your life against information you possessed and deemed you the lesser of the two. 

He half expected Adam Benford to find some new, horrible way to threaten him. As the agent took a seat and started the recording, Leon kept waiting for him to bring up Sherry, or even you and the others. He waited for some terrible new hammer to fall, because that seemed to be the way of things. 

Instead, it was just questions.

Familiar questions, all revolving around one central theme: tell me what happened that night.  

So he did. He relived on tape every agonizing detail. Each moment. 

- a shriek and a cracking of bone as it connected - 

- the laces of his boot colliding with a skull -

- no time for surprise to even register on his face -

⧫⧫⧫

“All of that, and you weren’t infected,” Simmons mused, stroking the goatee on his chin. “Nearly everyone on base turned, and you-”

“I didn’t eat the same food as everyone else,” you said dryly, because you’d had plenty of time over the last few days to put together that much. “That’s what it was, wasn’t it?” 

The man gave you a look that might have been approval, even if it was still filtered through a discerning veneer. “It was. And how convenient that you happened to avoid it. Just as you managed to avoid being infected during the incident at Dorne Base.” 

Anger. It lanced through you as soon as Simmons spoke. “If you’re looking to make accusations, don’t waste your time. Did you find Reed’s body with the others?” You didn’t even need Simmons to confirm it, you were so dead set in your belief. You were certain beyond any shadow of a doubt. 

⧫⧫⧫

Benford shook his head, and Leon knew you’d been right. He could feel it, even if your explanation had been rushed and delivered in near mania back on the base. How could it not have been? You’d watched another home fall in the same brutal way. You’d endured your nightmare a second time. 

Another horror for you to relive.

Another horror for Leon, because every time he closed his eyes, all he could see was a smoking rifle barrel and that look of emptiness on your face-

“How did this happen?” Leon asked, because when he wasn’t thinking of the blood and fires, he was thinking of that one question. “How did you let this happen again?” 

The wrinkles already present on Benford’s face deepened as he frowned. There was more guilt there than Leon would have expected. “We put our trust in the wrong person,” he answered, and Leon couldn’t have scoffed more at the understatement. 

The wrong person. A man who’d had his run of the base. The authority to do as he pleased. 

“Reed was in charge of handling all incoming and outgoing mail. It’s fair to say that’s how he got the virus samples. It would have gone through him first,” Benford admitted, and again Leon was floored by how easy it had been, in hindsight. All Reed had to do was wait until Krauser and Hellman were away . . . “What we don’t know for certain,” the agent went on, “is whether Reed acted alone.” 

Leon had been exhausted for days. Sleep evaded him, no matter what he tried. His mind was addled with the fresh poison of memory and nightmare. Even so, even with the stupor he was in, he felt his hackles raise as soon as Benford spoke the words. 

“You think someone on base helped him?” 

“It’s not out of the realm of possibility.” Some terrible feeling in his gut told Leon who they suspected even before your name was spoken into the air. “You’re quite close with the Sergeant, aren’t you?”

“You can’t be serious.” What other response was he supposed to have? “Are you just throwing accusations around for the hell of it? Or have you found any evidence?” 

⧫⧫⧫

“No, we haven’t,” Simmons surprised you by answering honestly, but his intake of breath told you that he wasn’t done. That much was proven further when he lifted the folder he held, and a jolt of adrenaline shot through you. “We did find these, though, hidden under the mattress of your bunk.” 

Fuck . . .

He flipped the folder open, and you immediately recognized the printed words on the first page. 

𝚁𝙰𝙲𝙲𝙾𝙾𝙽 𝙲𝙸𝚃𝚈 𝚁𝙴𝙿𝙾𝚁𝚃 - 𝚂𝙴𝙿𝚃𝙴𝙼𝙱𝙴𝚁 𝟸𝟽𝚝𝚑, 𝟷𝟿𝟿𝟾

⧫⧫⧫

Leon looked down at the pictures of the reports and felt a new pit open in his stomach. He recognized them. He’d spent a fair amount of time reading through them, under your supervision, after all. 

“These same reports were missing from Major Krauser’s office,” Benford began, and Leon didn’t know what to do. 

What to say. Telling the truth would implicate not only you, but-

“The Major was adamant that he gave the reports to the Sergeant,” Benford explained, and Leon felt his heart sink. “He asked that punishment be his alone to bear. Claimed that he was the only one responsible for this breach of intelligence.”

⧫⧫⧫

“He lied.” It wasn’t your best performance, but you had to try. Had to do something, or Krauser would take the fall for your curiosity. Another casualty that you could have prevented if you’d been smarter. If you’d just put the fucking reports back when you were done reading through them in the first place. Now, all you could do was pray that your bluff would work. “I took them from his office the night before the attack. Check the camera footage, I was in the officer’s barracks. He’s just trying to cover for me.”

Simmons, for his part, just seemed intrigued by your words. “Really?” he said, raising a brow. “And what reason would he have to do that?” 

⧫⧫⧫

Leon knew the reason. He had been ignoring it for long enough, but he knew now. The Major’s service was everything to him, his life in the military all that he had. Still, he’d risked it for you. It all became unavoidable, then; why Krauser had been so harsh with Leon after Fort Benning. Why he’d been taking such an interest in your training. Why he’d given you classified information. Him keeping your secret, his late nights with you, all of it. 

Krauser cared for you. More than he should have.

And Leon knew. 

If he said as much, if he spoke that truth, Jack Krauser’s career would be over. 

Krauser’s feelings for you were a breach of the balance of power. Leon knew that. He would be justified in reporting it . . . but Krauser had never acted on those feelings. At least as far as Leon knew. He cared for you, that much was obvious, but he’d never acted on it. And Leon knew he wouldn’t. For all the harsh training, for every bruising lesson, Krauser was a good man.

A man that Leon, despite himself, cared for.

A man who just wanted the best for those under his command.

Still, a choice had to be made.

Leon wasn’t a liar. He had never been good at it. He’d always spoken the truth, when he could help it. 

But more than that, he’d always defended those he cared for. 

“He’s loyal to his men,” Leon answered, his voice smaller than he would like. It was true, he supposed. Even if loyalty may not have been all the Major felt towards you. “He would lie to keep them protected in a heartbeat.” 

⧫⧫⧫

“And you are loyal to him, it seems.” 

You knew where this was going, because Reed had made the exact same implication the other night. It made you want to scream. This whole ordeal did, because it was what little remained of your world being torn apart once more. The dogs and carrion birds had come to tear at the remains of you. It left you on your back heels, trying desperately to defend yourself and your Major both. “I’m loyal to everyone I serve with.” 

“Not to your country?” 

“To the government that signed off on a deal with Birkin?” you hissed, shaking your head. “That let an Umbrella agent slip under its nose? How can I trust that country when anyone could be working for the enemy? How the fuck can I even know that you’re not with Umbrella? Another asshole on its payroll?” You were seething, now. Swinging blindly at an enemy you couldn’t see, hoping to land any blow. 

Simmons regarded you, then, his eyes calculating. 

Up until now, everything felt scripted. Like he had been given a loose list of questions to ask you.

In that moment, you felt him break from it. 

⧫⧫⧫

“I understand what the Sergeant has gone through,” Benford said, his tone more sympathetic than Leon had ever heard it. “I know that what you both endured might have brought you . . . closer. I know that you likely trust the Sergeant. I’m trying to determine if we can.” 

Leon’s jaw clenched. “You’re crazy if you think that anyone who watched their entire base be destroyed, who lost the people most important in their life, who nearly died because of Umbrella, would ever work for those bastards.” Because you wouldn’t. You would never have done this. He didn’t understand why they would even think-

“You were close with Lieutenant Logan Alenko, were you not?” 

Benford’s question eviscerated Leon. Dug in before the younger man could even prepare himself. 

“Yes,” he answered, numb. “I was.” 

“And the Sergeant was too, am I correct?” 

Leon winced, the memory of your smiles and wry humor clashing brutally with that newest memory of you. The one that Leon could never and would never forget. 

“Yes.”

“But you reported that the Sergeant killed him anyway.”

“He . . . was infected.” 

“Infected but not turned, correct?” 

“. . . Yes.” 

Benford nodded, thinking for a moment. “You may speak freely, Leon,” he said, the eyes framed by glasses piercing but sincere. “Do you think you can trust an individual like that? One who is comfortable committing treason and executing allies?” 

Leon knew what answer was expected of him.

⧫⧫⧫

“I suppose you can’t,” Simmons admitted, seeming to mull something over. In the end, he looked towards the one-way glass, towards where other agents and officers were no doubt watching the debriefing, then back to you. “So allow me to be transparent with you.” He leaned forward, his hands clasping together and his elbows resting on the table. ��Many of these reports that you’ve read crossed my desk. I was aware of the dealings being made with William Birkin. I was aware that Agent Reed was facilitating that communication.” You didn’t get any satisfaction from that confirmation. Not as Simmons continued. “I oversaw the operation to obtain virus samples when Birkin went silent, and when the situation in Raccoon City became uncontainable, I counseled its destruction.” 

You didn’t even have time to process the information. One hundred thousand deaths, deaths that bore down on Leon’s conscious, on your own, in a way . . . lives snuffed out in an instant, all because of this man. Some asshole in a suit. What truly made you feel empty, though, was what Simmons said next. 

“And I think you understand why I did it,” he said, and you wanted to look anywhere but his eyes. It felt impossible, though, as he peered at you from over his clasped hands. “You killed Lieutenant Alenko for the same reason.” 

You nearly flew across the table at him. Nearly tore his throat out. “It is not the same-”

⧫⧫⧫

You’d done it because you had to. Because Alenko would have turned if you hadn’t. You’d done it, Leon knew, to spare him. It wasn’t heartless of you . . .

⧫⧫⧫

“Oh, but it was,” Simmons shook his head. “It was ugly, but necessary. You kill a friend to keep him from turning into a monster. I destroy a city to keep a nation sleeping peacefully at night. I think you would have done the same thing, in my place. And I think you and I share a similar resentment for the organization that forced our hands.” 

The only thing that stayed your rage was hearing it mirrored in Simmons’ voice. 

⧫⧫⧫

You did what you had to do.

⧫⧫⧫

“Umbrella has upset the balance of our entire world. We did the same thing once before, developing the atomic bomb. We changed war forever. Now, it will be changed again. As much as we have tried - as I have tried - to keep the knowledge of what Umbrella has developed from the rest of the world, I know that news is already spreading. Our enemies are clamoring for their share of a weapon that can destroy a military base, a city. We will need individuals who can do what must be done,” he said, and you felt the chains clicking into place as he looked at you. “We need individuals like you.”

“I thought I might be responsible for all this?” Bitterness flavored your words because hadn’t he just suggested that you were the plant? That you were working for Umbrella?  

Simmons nodded, pensive as he lowered his hands. “I was asked to interrogate you on your potential involvement in this most recent attack, that is true. But you’re right. I think it’s a waste of time. You’re loyal to the men and women you serve with, I believe you when you say that. Unfortunately-” he drummed his fingers against the reports- “you have put me in a difficult situation.” 

Because even if you hadn’t been involved in the attack, you had absolutely done something wrong besides. You knew too much. Just as Leon knew too much, when he’d been tracked down after Raccoon City. 

They’d threatened a child to force his loyalty. Told him not so subtly that he and Sherry would die if he didn’t agree to give his life in service. 

What would they do to you?

“If you’re not with Umbrella,” you began, “then you don’t have anything to worry about from me.” 

⧫⧫⧫

You would never hurt anyone unless you had a good reason. Leon knew that truth in his heart. 

⧫⧫⧫

“I believe you,” Simmons said again, “but unfortunately, my superiors feel otherwise.”

“I’m offering you my cooperation-”

“And you’re being forgiven for committing treason,” Simmons pointed out. “You’ll forgive them for being cautious.” 

“Oh I will?” 

“You will,” Simmons nodded. “Because your Major admitted to committing that same treason on record. A record that I can strike or can act on. Just as I can ignore your fraternization, or act on it.” 

“I’m not fraternizing with the Major-”

“I wasn’t referring to him. Well, perhaps not only to him.”

You’d been through this enough times by now that it was no longer a shock; that realization that you hadn’t, in fact, been careful. That despite your best efforts, there were precious few ways to hide from eyes that were everywhere. 

So, as Simmons reached towards the little TV on the corner of the table and turned it on, it wasn’t shock that overtook you, this time. It was a dark acceptance. 

You looked at the screen, seeing the image come to life, low-quality, but unmistakable. Leon’s hair - that fucking ridiculous hair that he refused to cut - made it impossible to think it was anyone else. The shape of you was just as clear as you watched a familiar scene. You knew exactly what day it was. In your gut, you knew. The day you and Leon had faced Krauser together in sparring, right before the final test. The day you’d lamented that you wished to be going into service with Leon. You schooled your expression as best you could as you watched the recording, seeing you both walking back to the barracks, stopping, and then Leon folding his arms around you in a comforting embrace. 

⧫⧫⧫

He loved you. However much horror you’d endured, he loved you. 

⧫⧫⧫

You watched as, after a moment, your own arms came up to hold him in return. 

When you were with him like that, it was easy to forget the passage of time. Comfort had that effect, you supposed. Now, though, each second that embrace lasted on screen seemed to be a lifetime long. 

It was always going to turn out like this. You’d known that going in, hadn’t you? 

“Is this supposed to be a threat?” you asked, your voice becoming hollow once more. 

Simmons shook his head. “It’s an observation. You and Kennedy care for each other. The Major claimed to have no knowledge of anything between the two of you, but Hellman and Reed’s reports both surmise that you two are close.” He tilted his head, opening his hands in a questioning motion. “Just how close are you?”

“He asked me to teach him how to fight,” you said, holding Simmons’ gaze. “We’ve trained together. We’re friends. Nothing more.” 

“Really? No deeper feelings at all?”

⧫⧫⧫

He loved you.

⧫⧫⧫

“There’s nothing.” 

Simmons didn’t believe you. You could see that much written plainly across his face. Still, he nodded. “Good. I’m sure you’re aware of the importance of Leon’s continued service. I wouldn’t want anything to jeopardize that.” The threat was plain. Barely disguised. 

“Nothing will.” 

Because if Leon wasn’t in STRATCOM, if he wasn’t an agent for the government, he would be a liability. A man who knew too much.

That much was spelled out for you now, clear as day. If he was thrown from service, his life was forfeit. 

Krauser’s career, Leon’s life . . . all riding on you not misbehaving. 

The shackles were in place, your path forward clear. They were your weaknesses – the gaps in your armor. Simmons had found them without trouble. He would use them against you, if you gave him cause to.

So long as you were all entangled together, they would be in danger.

In the recording, you and Leon finally stepped away from each other. You watched out of the corner of your eye, numb. 

⧫⧫⧫

He hated what you’d done, but he loved you. 

⧫⧫⧫

“You want someone who will do whatever it takes? Who will bury Umbrella in the ground? You’ve got them.” If that was what you were put on this Earth to do, then so be it. 

You could be their weapon. That was what you’d been training for.

⧫⧫⧫

“Leon,” Benford spoke again, and Leon just wanted the nightmare to stop. He wanted it all to stop, even if just for a moment. “Do you honestly think we can trust a person like that?” 

The question wouldn’t have fazed him a week ago. It would have been ridiculous. Insane. 

Even now, it wasn’t that he didn’t trust you. He did. He always would. 

That didn’t change the fact that he had hesitated in his answer. Something had held his tongue, even if only for a moment. Something he never, ever wanted to associate with you, but he found it there all the same. He found it in the memory of your hollow expression, your blank stare as you lowered the rifle. 

Fear. 

He’d been afraid of you, in that moment. 

Or, perhaps, he’d been afraid for you. 

“It had to be done.” Leon was trying to convince the man across from him as much as himself. 

So yes. He trusted you. 

Even if he would never forget what you’d done.

⧫⧫⧫

Hearing those words, Simmons smiled. “I’m glad we understand each other.” With that, it was done. The agent stood and left, and a few seconds later, soldiers came in to lead you out of the room.

You passed him in the hallway as you were escorted back to your room. 

The universe loved its shitty timing, didn’t it? 

Leon’s eyes widened just a touch as he saw you. Blue framed in bruising. Still beautiful, just as he had been when you’d seen him across the mess hall. Just as when that bruising had been dealt by your hand and not just a lack of sleep. Maybe that lack of sleep was your fault, too. 

You hoped it was.

You hoped he hated you for what you’d done. You certainly did. 

It wasn’t hatred that you saw in that gaze, though. 

No. Instead, you glimpsed uncertainty. Concern. 

Fear. 

And what did you give back? What did you spare the man you loved? The man who had saved you the night of the attack and long before then? 

Absolutely nothing. 

You kept walking, your eyes focused forward as you passed him. 

You didn’t even blink. Not until you were back in your appointed cell, finding your belongings there. Fatigues, rucksack . . . and a radio that you shouldn’t have had. One stolen in an act of petty retribution. One that had been your companion as you watched others training for a war that was yours. 

Only yours. 

It should have only been yours. 

You took the radio in your hands. Flipped it on. 

A guitar. Drums. A voice that seemed to strain against the very words it sang. 

Cracked eggs, dead birds,

Scream as they fight for life

You’d known. You’d known from the start it couldn’t end any other way. 

I can feel death, can see its beady eyes

If things could be different . . . if you were anyone, anywhere else . . . but you weren’t. Wishing didn’t matter, not when you were faced with the reality before you. Leon could have your love, or he could have his life. You knew which one he would choose. So you wouldn’t give him the choice.

All these things into position,

All these things we’ll one day swallow whole

Your hands tightened around the radio, your eyes stinging.

And fade out again . . .

Your teeth clenched so hard you thought they might break, just as the plastic on the radio began to groan under your constricting fingers. 

And fade out-

Plastic and wiring splintered against the wall. The radio kept playing, even as you dashed it against the concrete. So, you brought your heel up. You knew how to silence something that wouldn’t die. You knew better than anyone. 

You brought your boot down and there was a crunch, a warping of voice.

Then, finally, silence. 

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Chapter Index

Tag List: @greywardensaywhat

[hannahbarberra162]

Do you think you'd write anything with the reader for yan Rob Lucci or yan Kaku? I'm ashamed to admit how much I love those two ♡

*taps the microphone and leans in*

Kaku is the only fuckable member of CP0. I will not be taking questions or comments. Thank you for your time.

But -

I haven't written Kaku before so I'll have to deep dive before I do but I think he's ripe for some Yan treatment :3.

Rob Lucci is not my vibe, sorry. I hate his stupid goatee more than should be possible. Smoochies for Hattori tho <3.

[asheurbanipal]

If I have your wife, then kill me and eat me whole

on A03

<<Previous Episode : Next Episode>>

Summary:

As Logan and Wade move out of their honeymoon phase, more complex relationship issues emerge. For Wade, it's a surge of jealousy. A jealousy that Logan is doing everything in his power not to reflect back, reigning in its destructive power. It takes a harrowing encounter with a bolt cutter to get them on the same page.

Deadpool/Wolverine

Explicit

Words: 7044

One-shot in series

Content: angst, oral, jealousy, violence, mild torture. kidnapping

Should have gone to the gay bar. Those vibes look immaculate over there.

Wade laid his hands loosely around a chipped highball glass and a bottle of the shittiest beer imaginable, the bar dark against his back. He ran through the last few days, double checking everything off the list.

Day one: recon. No issue. Their security was garbage. 

Day two: copy the data. Easy. Just slap that bitch on a flashdrive. 

Day three: flash drive delivery to a drop location but not before making a copy to pass off to the X-Men. Not that the client knew about that part. 

Day four: attacked by a group of ninja? Samurai? Some kind of a fighting force all in black with a weird overtone of anti-Asian stereotyping. They were clearly pissed off about the whole "stealing information" thing, and he and Logan kind of accidentally killed them all before finding out the details. 

Oops.

And not even any hand-written letters laying out revenge plans to scavenge from a corpse.

In order to do mercenary work while still upholding the moral standards of the X-Men, Logan had a set of rules and compromises to follow if he was going to join Wade on a job. No politics. Nothing that harmed a pro-mutant organization. Nothing that got in the way of scientific progress (that was a special request from Hank). The X-Men got a copy of any data obtained during corporate espionage. They may not need it, at the moment, but knowledge was power. 

And as few corpses as possible with the ideal number being zero. 

Oops, again.

I'll take the heat on that one with Mr. Lazer and Wheels. 

If Logan slipped up too much on a mission or let Wade get too far afield, they might lose access to the little cottage on the edge of the mansion property. Xavier, at some point, had conceived of a version of the school that was a little more…general? Something like that? And that meant non-mutant teachers, maybe? Wade was still unclear on the reasoning, just that it meant there were little two-room cabins scattered at the far extents of the grounds. These had been offered as a place for him and Logan to live as long as they behaved.

It had been very hard to behave. 

They had been able to get a drop-off from the Blackbird on its way to whatever business, but they had to drive back over the next two days. They had taken off right after dealing with the vaguely racist commandos, so they were still dressed in their suits from the neck down. Logan needed a "goddamn drink" before they settled in for the night at the nearby shit-fuck motel. The only place that would take cash and not ask questions. No credit cards when someone was on your ass. 

And Logan had pulled him into this place. Dark. Depressing. Okay, yeah, maybe perfect, honestly. Wade slammed back a swig from his bottle, then rolled it along its bottom edge. 

A body dropped onto the barstool next to him. Wade gave the guy half a glance but didn't linger. He didn't look like someone out to kill him. Not a recognizable antagonist. Kind of weird that he sat right there, but then people were allowed to be weird in a perfectly mundane fashion. 

Still…

He flicked a knife on the inside of his wrist and waited for shit to get stupid. 

"You here alone?" the fucking weirdo asked. This time Wade actually looked at him. Big guy, soft and jowly, trucker cap on backwards, greasy with a sort of mullet thing happening. Patchy, gross-ass goatee. Just a real mess of a man. 

"No, here with my boyfriend. But he's taking a piss." Wade tapped the edge of the glass of Wild Turkey that he was guarding for Logan. 

"Boyfriend?" Gross-dude took a swig of his Coors Lite. 

"Yeah. He's The Wolverine. The X-Man Wolverine."

"I'm sure he is." They guy leaned in, moving his body into Wade's space. 

"No, I mean that literally. And he will kick your ass." Wade flexed his wrist, tipping his knife into place. 

Gross-dude dropped his hand from the bar then started sliding it across Wade's thigh. 

"Maybe you give my little wolverine a try?"

Oh that is the dumbest fucking thing I've ever heard.

Wade twitched the knife. He saw the image in his head, blade through the man's hand into his thigh. His reaction would be worth the pain and annoyance of repairing his suit.

Then out of the corner of his eye, the bathroom door opened. 

Oh no let Logan do it. That'll be hilarious. 

#####

What an absolute nightmare of a job. 

And now some asshole had his hand on Wade's thigh. He knew that was Deadpool, right? That he was about twenty seconds away from massive amounts of pain? 

But Wade wasn't doing anything. PTSD reaction? Freeze response?

No, Wade was fucking with him, probably. Some kind of weird goof. Better to step in before the guy got knocked down and didn't wake up again. He moved across the room to Wade's other side, slid a thumb through a loop on the back of Wade's suit, and plucked the worst bourbon he'd ever had up from the ring of Wade's arms.

"Hey, babe, are we ready to go soon?" They hadn't opened a tab, paying in cash, so they could just leave if this was going to be a problem.

"Yeah, I was just talking to my new friend." Wade's eyes narrowed at him in annoyance. Logan glanced down to see the man's hand slowly retreating. He had gotten the message. They were good to go. The man started backing away, hands up. 

But Wade kept looking at him. Then back at Logan. Then back at the man as he moved away. Then back at Logan. There was something there, like he was attempting to communicate without words. He could barely communicate with his words, so this wasn't effective. 

"Really?" Wade finally said.

"What?" Logan took another sip of his drink. 

"Fucking…fine." 

The mad had made it back to his group of friends. Wade broke from Logan's light hook on his suit and took two steps to close the gap. With a single downward motion, he slammed one of his wrist knives into the guy's shoulder. Nothing vital, but something that would hurt like a sonofabitch going in and coming out. The guy spun around, falling back against the hightop behind him.

"It was a joke!" he gasped. "Hundred bucks for whoever pretended to hit on you."

"Oh. So you have to pretend? Not hot enough for a truck-stop impulse buy Billy Ray Cyrus?" 

Logan hooked his arm under Wade's. There was a stack of cash on the table; the payout for the bet. He snatched it and tucked it into his belt. 

"Payment for me not letting him kick your asses," Logan growled. "Wade, let's go." He dragged him across the room.

"Consent motherfuckers!" Wade barked as Logan managed to wrestle him through the door. They stumbled out onto the sidewalk, something saccharine and poppy but tantalizingly addictive drifting from the neon-colored club across the road. 

Their motel was right down the street, a planned walking distance. 

"You good?" Logan asked, wrapping his arm around Wade's waist. He pulled away. 

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" he whined. 

"With me ? What's wrong with you ?" 

But Wade just huffed, taking off into the darkness. 

It was going to be one of those nights. 

"Like I just love how you see a man flirting with me, and you don't do anything."

There it was. It was two in the morning and Wade had been laying there next to him in their shitty motel bed, fuming silently. Logan had drifted into a very light sleep, but knew this was coming. He pressed his palms to his eyes and sat up a little, bed complaining under his weight.  

"He wasn't actually flirting with you."

"You didn't know that when you came out of the bathroom. I didn't even know that. You just saw a guy with his hand on my thigh, and you didn't do anything." 

Logan took a few deep breaths. Wade always worked from an internal logic. He just had to figure out what it was. 

"I came over. I put my hand on you. Acted intimidatingly. He left without a fight." He tried to be measured without sounding condescending or sarcastic. They couldn't both be bad at this, and he was trying so hard. "What else would you have liked me to do?"

"Stab him in the face."

"I'm not going to go straight to stabbing if I can de-escalate. We de-escalated….until you stabbed him, I guess. We talked about this. Stab first and ask questions later is something I'm trying to move away from."

"No, okay. I get the little code of ethics and anger management routine you're stuck on. That's not the problem." Wade lifted his hands, gesticulating in the dark.

"Was there something I didn't see? Were you in danger that I didn't notice?"

"No! He was just some asshole." He was getting madder and madder, but this line of questioning was working. He was narrowing in on the actual problem. And even under the anger he could hear Wade forcing himself to work out his issue verbally. As frustrated as he was, he was still managing to peel away layers. 

"Then I don't understand. What did you want me to do?" 

"I wanted you to be mad!" 

"I was upset." 

"No!" He shot up in bed. "I want you to be so mad that a guy is touching me that you inflict massive bodily harm." 

Logically, that wasn't going to happen. Yeah, he had sliced and diced for lesser things, but he was actively trying to not do that, now. Trying to rein it in. Create some fucking longevity instead of being ready to go out guns blazing at the next given opportunity. 

But, holy fuck, maybe he actually saw what Wade was upset about. 

"You want me to be jealous of other people showing you attention."

"Yes! Yes oh my god! Yes! Thank you. What is the point of having a super hot X-Men boyfriend with metal for fingers if he doesn't use them to scare other men away?" 

"Is it just men?"

"What?"

"What if a woman hits on you?"

And that short-circuited him, body-slumping over to think.

"Okay, come on, lay back down." Logan opened his arms, and Wade crawled in obediently. He was a creature of habit if nothing else. "We'll talk about it more in the morning." 

Wade nodded against his chest. He would either forget about it completely, or this was going to last for a week. Only the next day would tell. 

#####

"Jelly bean, buy me this shirt."

"Why?"

"Because you love me."

"Well, yes. Obviously." Logan's hand found a place in the small of Wade's back as he leaned in for a closer look at the display through the window. "But you have literally a dozen shirts with that fucking cat on it. You don't need another one." 

"Yeah, but this one has Kuromi." Wade swung around the archway into the store and made for the t-shirt wall, hoodie up, one hand in his pocket, the other around his drink. He didn't actually want anything. They had only stopped at the mall to grab some food and shake this black van that had been following them the past hour. Dragging The Wolverine into Hot Topic was just the top five funniest things of all time. He looked ridiculous in work boots and tight Levi's and t-shirt stretching taught over his chest

fucking stop it you're in public

I'm gonna tear that ass up later, though. 

Logan was better at compartmentalizing his horniness and letting it all out at once in an appropriate place. Maybe that was part of the issue.

Because the bar thing was still needling at him. 

They had resolved it last night. Logan understood why he was upset. He, in fact, went out of his way to try to understand why Wade was upset. That therapy shit was working. Maybe he ought to start going again. Because goddamn they were killing this whole communication business. 

He watched Logan sip his fountain drink and gently flick through the metal grate of earrings. Logan pulled one off the display. 

"You think Laura would like these?" he asked, showing them to Wade around the side of the grate. They were little bloody daggers that dangled, so yeah probably. One problem.

"They're one hundred percent her vibe, but her ears aren't pierced." Wade sipped on his bubble tea loudly. Logan stared at the earring card. 

"They aren't?"

Wade leaned in to speak in a low voice. Fuck if he wasn't going to occasionally practice a modicum of decency in public. 

"Remember when we were talking about dick piercings?"

"Right, healing factor." He slid the earrings back. 

"That is some excellent fathering, right there."

"Shut the fuck up."

"If your daughter can't get piercings, you can order clip-on converters online." The girl came out of nowhere, anime shirt and baggy jeans and oh my god was scene hair coming back? She was with a small group, maybe seventeen or eighteen years old. 

And all of them were staring at Logan as they milled around the store. Hungry eyes. Undressing him in their minds. He knew that look because he did it all the time. Only he was allowed to do it. These girls…these minors… weren't.

The rage was hotter than he expected. Like… a lot. Like if he had his guns on him, there would be a non-zero chance of brain and blood splatter across the Nightmare Before Christmas display.

"Shit. Okay." Logan pulled the earrings right back down then grabbed a few more sets, a variety of skulls and other cutesy depictions of deadly weaponry. "Did you actually want that t-shirt, babe?"

"No, I was just fuckin' with ya, honey bunny." The girls looked between them, taking in the implication of the exchange. Good. 

Yeah, I get it. I look like a hairless cat in drag. But I'm the one that pulled that hottie. That ass belongs to me. That mouth? Around my dick. Conversations about our deepest fears and lingering traumas? Yeah, I'm the one he has those with. 

That last one was the sexiest. 

"Wade?" Logan was at the door, already checked out and shoving his wallet back into his jeans. 

"Coming!" Wade shuffled back out through the door, glancing around the edge of his hood at the nearest girl. 

Coming for me TONIGHT more like. 

fuck, chill out, Wade

"You were giving that girl in there the evil eye," Logan said quietly, knocking his body against Wade's. 

"She was making eyes at my boyfriend." Wade slipped his arm into Logan's forcefully. Logan chuckled. 

"I think they were just being friendly. They saw a useless old man and tried to help."

"You cannot be this fucking dense, you immaculate asshole." 

"I…okay…I'm flattered you think teen girls would be into me, but you might be a little biased." 

"I'm certainly bi about that ass."

"That was a really bad one."

"They can't all be winners." Wade sucked down the last of his drink and tossed it in the trash as they passed. Logan reached over to do the same, and kissed Wade on the cheek in the process. 

"Does it make you mad to think of other people being attracted to me?" Logan asked, fishing.

"Absolutely livid. If I so much as think about someone looking at you with a lustful gaze, it's like…flames…shooting…off the side of my face. And I think about it all the time. When we're out in public I just know that people are looking at you then looking at me and being like 'oh, the bar is in hell, I guess.' But I'm sensible enough to know this level of obsession isn't normal, so I haven't stabbed anyone. Yet."

"Hm, okay." Logan's voice settled into a cadence of contemplation. 

no no no that makes me feel icky inside

"'Hm, okay' what? I don't like it when you think inside thoughts."

"I'm allowed to have those."

"Not around me you aren't." 

"Jesus fuck, Wade. Okay." He moved them into a side hallway that led down to the bathrooms and other backside navigation. "I didn't understand why you were upset last night because I don't think the same way you do. I don't get mad about people hitting on you. I don't even really think about it. It's not something I worry about at all. So-"

"Why don't you think about it?" Wade shoved his hands in his pockets. There was that sick feeling. The one that lurked in the back of his head. That this was all temporary. A happiness that he wasn't allowed to have. 

"That's what I'm getting to-" 

"You don't think I'm attractive enough? That other people wouldn't look at me like that?"

"Wade-"

"I mean I get that I look like a piebald moose testicle-"

"Please don't do that-" 

"-but to actually hear it from you." 

Logan slapped his hands around Wade's shoulders. 

"Wade, I-"  Wade didn't hear the other side of the statement, his vision going suddenly black. 

#####

Wade crumpled in front of him, and he only just managed to catch him as he fell. 

The people in the black van had found them, but where the fuck were they? There were too many people here. He couldn't get a scent on them. No sound. 

Something sharp bit into his neck and he slapped at it. Tiny blow dart. His vision swam, but it would take more than that to bring him down, the healing factor working immediately to purge it. Another one caught him in the middle of his back. Where the fuck was it coming from? He scrabbled along his own spine, trying to pry the dart out while still holding Wade against him. This one had more of a punch, and the sway started overtaking him. 

No. 

This was a bullshit way to go out. 

He hit his knee, bringing Wade down with him. 

"Wade…wake up. Fucking heal already." But then he felt his body fumble and fall into blackness. 

"They're waking up. Dose them again."

"These motherfuckers are heavy."

Ropes around the wrist and knees. Laying in the back of a van. Moving down the highway fast. Another bite on the ankle and the world faded again. 

"Hey, pookie bear, wake up." Something bonked lightly into the back of his skull. 

"Fuck." He startled back into consciousness. They were tied up back to back on chairs in a dark, nondescript room. "Oh this is stupid as fuck. Are these the people we stole the data from?"

"Probably," Wade said idly. There was a one-way window to his left, and he looked at Wade in the reflection. He was slumped a little but alert. 

 Logan tested how he had been tied to the chair. It was tight. Something stronger than it looked. Any old asshole could get adamantium and vibranium and all that shit, anymore. He flung out a claw, but the angle was wrong to do a direct cut. Together they should be fine to get out, though. Wade had a dozen knives on him at any given moment. 

"Alright. What's our plan?" Logan asked. 

"What do you mean you don't worry about people hitting on me?"

"Are we really doing this, right now?"

"We've got time!" 

"Gentlemen. You're awake." A nondescript man dressed in black sauntered in through a gray metal door. A pair of bolt cutters were slung over his arm. This was one of those kinds of sessions.

"Can this wait?" Wade asked with a pout. "We were in the middle of a relationship altering conversation."

This gave the man a bit of a pause, but he kept moving slowly, circling around to Wade. 

"Now, I recognize some professionals when I see them. So I'll cut to it quickly." He tapped the bolt cutter to Wade's hand. "Who sent you to steal from me?" He poised the cutter over Wade's pinky. 

"Bruh," Wade tsked. "I don't fucking know. Logie, my question."

"Wade, honey. Please pay attention to what's happening, right now." Logan wriggled their lashed together chairs. 

"Oh what's he gonna do, take a finger?" 

And he did, the cutter moving through Wade's pinky with a crack and squish. Wade jerked with the pain, but moved right back into the conversation. 

"I need an answer, Logan."

"Christ," Logan muttered. "No you're not conventionally attractive. Okay? So realistically I wouldn't expect you to get hit on by randos compared to, I don't know, fuckin' Ryan Reynolds."

"AHA! I THOUGHT SO!" The chairs jumped with his movement. 

"But that's not the point, goddamnit. I think you're hot as fuck, and that's all that should matter. I'm the only attention you should care about."

"Oh. Hm." Wade rocked their chairs a little. 

"Okay, as adorable as this is, I still have my own questions." Bolt cutter guy positioned the thing over Wade's next finger. "Who are you working for?."

"Your mother," Wade replied. "She hired me after I was done blowing her back out then providing appropriate after care."

The sound of the crunch on his next finger got lost under Wade's next complaint.

"So you wouldn't be mad if someone tried to pick me up in a bar?"

"No…not really...Because you're going home with me, in the end." 

"I really need an answer to my questions, so let me remind you," bolt-cutter said. 

CRUNCH. 

"Okay, that one fucking hurt a little," Wade said then turned back to the window to look at Logan in the reflection. "So you just…don't care? You don't care if some drunk dude slides his hands down my pants." 

"I don't understand what's happening here," bolt cutter guy said. 

CrUncH?

"I know that if some drunk guy slides his hands down your pants, he's not going home with a hand, Wade. If he goes home at all. So, yeah, I'll be mad that you had to go through something like that, and take revenge as needed, but I know you'll fucking deal with it. You're supposed to be the one I don't have to worry about." He hadn't said it out loud. It felt like too much pressure to put on the relationship. But now things were getting dire. 

cr-u-n-ch

"What the fuck does that mean?" Wade tried spinning, but he was stopped by the strapping on the chair. 

"I swear to God…" Bolt cutter guy started moving away, but Logan was too focused on Wade in the reflection to keep tracking him. 

"Everyone I love dies. Or gets converted to sapient space dust. Or didn't actually exist because the memory was implanted by some asshole. You just lost five fingers and still have the energy to bitch at me. I don't have to worry if my claws come out at the wrong time around you. If anything, you like it."

"I do. I'll admit that."

"I don't have to worry about you 24/7. I don't have to constantly think about how I'm going to protect you or if I can rescue you in time if a merc job goes wrong. Because you can take care of yourself. I can just breathe and focus on just being a person. Being a couple. Because I know you're going to come home at the end of the day."

"Maybe I want to be saved, sometimes." Wade squirmed in the chair, trying to get his face around to Logan's shoulder. "Maybe I don't want to have to take care of myself and let someone else do it. Maybe I'm also tired of having to protect everyone that I Iove all the time from goddamn mystical, world-ending bullshit. It's literally the reason I came and got you. To help me. So that I wouldn't have to do it alone. Maybe I don't want to have to carry that weight all the time either. It's too heavy."

"Fuck," Logan sighed. "You're right. I get what you're saying. Let's take some time after this to work it out."

"Maybe you stab a barista that smiles at me too long."

"We'll circle back to that." 

"You people are fucking insane." They both jumped, briefly forgetting  bolt cutter guy was there. "But I still need my answers. So maybe I switch gears." He moved from Wade to Logan, and tapped the circle of blade to Logan's hand. 

"Oh, no, those little piggies are mine, " growled Wade.

With the disgusting crunch of a dislocated shoulder and elbow, Wade managed to wriggle out of the bindings around his arms. 

"Could you do that the whole time?" Logan asked. 

"We were having a conversation," Wade replied. 

Loose from the bindings, he had enough space to pull the knife from the hidden space in the pocket of his hoodie and swing it hard into the side of bolt cutter guy. These idiots hadn't fully patted him down. Rookie mistake. 

The bolt cutter guy had thought this would go his way. He didn't have a backup plan beyond screaming about the knife now in his pancreas, swinging the cutter around in a panic. This left  plenty of time for Wade to reach down and break the chair legs free of the base. This didn't release the bindings around his ankles, but he could walk. He snapped his joints back into place with a series of cracks. 

"Who the fuck are you people?" Bolt-cutter backed up against the wall. 

"You really don't know? Holy shit." Wade pulled the knife free. With the force of that he lost his grip on the bolt-cutters. 

Wade sliced down through the bindings keeping Logan to the chair. 

"I'm Deadpool, and that's the goddamn Wolverine."

The bolt cutter guy reared back to swing the cutters, aiming for Wade's head with the rest of his strength.

Logan was as fast as Wade, ripping free from the chair, claws coming out in the time he crossed the room. A single movement up through his ribs, and bolt cutter guy dropped like a rock. They stared down at him, both covered in splatters of his blood.

"How much do you actually want to fight your way out of here?" Logan sighed. 

"My swords and guns are in the car, so it won't be nearly as fun." Wade leaned against the wall, wiping his knife on his hoodie. 

"Thinking the same thing." Logan moved toward the one-way window. Someone had to be on the other side. He tapped on the glass with the tip of his claw. "You got ten minutes, and we're busting through that door. We will be leaving. You decide what that looks like. This is the chance you get to go home to your kids tonight." 

Wade sidled up to him, slipping his arms around Logan's waist.

"I've…uh…I've lost a little more blood than I realized." 

Logan went to the bottom of his shirt and ripped strips away. 

"Give them here," Logan said. "Wrap your hand while I see where your fingers got to." He wandered back to the chair, searching the floor. 

"You don't have to do that, chicken tender." 

"It's faster, right? And they're all right here." Logan scooped them up from the floor. "Pretty clear cut. What fucking brand are these?" Logan also grabbed the bolt cutters, throwing them over his shoulder. "See if this brand makes hedge clippers." He held the fingers out to Wade. 

"Why the fuck are you thinking about hedge clippers, right now?" 

"The bush in front of the main window is too tall." 

Wade held the first of the fingers in place, waiting for it to attach. 

"I thought the kids on landscape duty took care of that." 

"They just run the riding mower. We do the hedges and edging. Well, I do. You haven't done shit."

"Ohh, when I get all these fingers back on we should do some edging." Wade bit his bottom lip as he worked on the next finger. 

"Hilarious." 

"Wait, who put in the dog-run for Puppins? I assumed that was one of the kids." He had made it through all his fingers but didn't dare stretch them, yet. 

"That was me. Laura helped."

"Oh…thank you. That was nice." Wade pecked Logan on the cheek.

"Those fuckin' zoomies…" But Logan didn't know what the rest of that sentence looked like and just sort of vaguely mimicked the act of running with his fingers. The crackle of a speaker came from somewhere above them, and a voice blared out. 

"Okay, you might talk a big game, but if you think you're getting out of here-BLACHT" 

The voice through the speaker cut off violently with a wet, choking sound. Splatty and gross. Wade jumped against Logan with surprise at the scream, clutching Logan's chest with his still healing hands. 

"Oh. Wait. It's the X-Men." Wade set his head against Logan's shoulder. "No big deal." Wade knocked on the  window. "We're in here, you sexy little spandex aficionados." Logan slapped his hand from the window.

"It could also be someone more annoying to deal with, and we just lost our escape window."

"Oh, no, it's totally them. I have a microtransponder in my shoe that I set off when I woke up here. These people did not pat us down well, at all." 

"You have a transponder…in your shoe…"

"Mhm. They don't want to lose you as an asset, so if you come with me on a job, I have to wear it. But I also wasn't supposed to tell you. Oops." 

"How long were you awake before me?" Logan canted his head toward Wade, pieces coming together now that the tranquilizer was working its way out completely. 

"A while. Ran my mouth at them so they'd torture me first. Figured I hold out longer than you. Also…you know…Don't like other people putting sharp things in you."

"Wade," Logan sighed. The bolt on the door cachunked , and Logan spun, claws clicking out. 

"Hallo! Please don't kill me." A furry blue hand slipped out the gap between the door and the wall and wiggled its fingers.

"Kurt, holy shit." The door swung open and Logan met Nightcrawler across the room. They shared a quick hug. "You haven't been at the mansion." 

"Business to attend to." He leaned around Logan. "Good to properly meet you Wade. Bad circumstances." Logan turned. Wade had gone a bit slackjawed, thinking. He snapped back, grinning.

"Let's get the fuck out of here, huh?"

#####

I didn't like it. I didn't like him hugging the little blue man. 

Wade, what the fuck is wrong with you? He's known them longer than you. 

I guess technically not, because it's not actually the same Nightcrawler. But conceptually he has. Fucking hate this multiverse shit. 

Just need to get my hands on him to feel better.

Get my fingers in his flesh.

The Blackbird might have swooped in to save them, but the team wasn't actually done with whatever weird little diplomatic mission they were on. Wade had been told that if he left the plane he would suffer dire consequences. Logan could join them if he wanted.

He didn't.

Suck my dick, X-Men. Logan keeps choosing me. 

Why am I in goddamn competition with the entire X-Men?

"Wade, you stopped talking." They were in the cargo hold. Logan was doing arms and ammunition inventory. Wade was cleaning the rifles. It was something to keep them busy. 

"You always tell me to shut up."

Logan turned sharply. 

"Then I won't do that anymore. I don't actually like it when you're quiet for too long. It means you're upset about something." Logan moved across the cargo hold and dropped in front of him on the floor. 

Wade put the rifle parts he was cleaning back in the bag and shoved them to the side. He opened his arms and that was the cue for Logan to crawl into his lap. He rolled forward over his knees and nestled his head into the pillow of Wade's crossed legs. Wade ran his fingers through Logan's bangs and combed them up over his crown. 

"I'm still thinking about the bar thing and the torture chamber stuff. I'm not mad, though." Wade waved his hands a little to shake off that presumption. "Just trying to sort myself and why I felt the way I did. And I'm not quite there, yet. I'll get it together, eventually." 

"I'm not stabbing any baristas."

"Just a little pokey poke if her hand lingers on mine and we share an unexpected moment?"

"I'll compromise by severing the ACL of the next waiter who laughs at your jokes just to get a bigger tip."

"Oh wait. No let them flirt for, like, one minute. Then crck. " He gestured across his throat with the back of his thumb. Logan chuckled, then his eyes flicked in thought. 

"To be perfectly clear, I'm not actually going to do that. However, I will have a bigger reaction to you getting hit on, and I will include minor threats of violence if they're being handsy. If that's something that makes you feel good about yourself." 

"Eh. I don't know why I'm making such a big deal about flirting in a bar, anyway. Not like it's a regular occurrence. Mach speed blobfish isn't exactly a look that gets a lot of play."

"Hey." Logan reached up and poked him hard in the cheeks. "What have I told you about insulting my boyfriend?" 

"Self-deprecation is the foundation of my comedic genius, sugar bean. Take that from me, and I lose half my material." 

He's so pretty like this. Deep, creased laugh lines. Little crinkle between his eyebrows. Long nose. 

Wade ran his hands down Logan's jaw. Then he leaned down and kissed him upside down. 

Spiderman style.

Wade pulled back just enough to talk. 

"I don't actually need or even want you to protect me. You clearly need me to protect you, though." 

"Oh, what makes you say that?" Logan reached up to peck him on the lips.

"I'm the one with a radio in my shoe."

"That they forced you to wear."

"That I was clever enough to actually wear when they told me to instead of…not…doing that…" Wade ran his hands down Logan's chest, studying the place where he'd reattached his fingers only a few hours before. There was still a thin line as the flesh continued to knit itself together. He sat back up a little, drawing his hands back to Logan's temples. 

"So neither of us want to carry the weight of the world," Wade said with a drifting hum. "But we worked together on that TimeSplitter motherfucker, and we saved all of reality." Logan curled his hand over the top of Wade's.

"And we did it holding hands." Logan brought Wade's hand to his lips and kissed his palm.

"Fucking gross. When did we get this disgustingly cute?" 

Logan lifted his hands to catch the sides of Wade's head. 

"I've always been cute, you just had to catch up." He pulled Wade down to kiss him. He broke the kiss too soon, and Wade was about to complain before Logan turned over on his knees. He moved Wade's legs to part around him.  

Oh ?

Logan hooked his thumb around the zipper of Wade's jeans and drew it down. 

Yep.

His lips pressed to Wade's bulge through his boxers. He nosed open the fly and brought Wade's cock into his mouth, tongue running small circles over the tip. Wade wove his fingers through Logan's hair, locking into place, steadying himself against Logan's rhythm.

Logan Logan Logan

The refrain started up like it always did, a rattle that snaked around his brain and wiped everything else away. When Logan was touching him, he stopped thinking. He just was . He just existed as body and sensation. As nerve endings and neurochemicals.

Words that were already stupid became more senseless, that part of his brain going on autopilot.  

"Take me deeper, daddy." 

God, why the fuck did I say that?

Logan obliged, though, pushing into him until Wade's cock was brushing the back of his throat. His fingers went tighter in Logan's half-curls..  

Sweet baby Jesus, this man is going to kill me. 

#####

Wade's dick was rough, calloused like the rest of his skin. He loved it. Every time he put his mouth on Wade in some form or fashion, he fell a little more in love. In love with Wade's body. His form. In love with the pulse and beat of breath underneath.

Every time Wade talked, even when he spiraled out into nonsense, Logan found himself falling a little farther down into him. It was becoming harder and harder to imagine the version of himself that had hated him. That grew rabid with rage at his voice. 

Now? He wanted to devour him. He had spent so many years suppressing his rage just for it to explode and destroy everything at the exact wrong moment. He'd spent every moment since then trying to prevent something like that from ever happening again. Even if it didn't mean anything. Even if it didn't matter. And he'd almost done it. He'd packed every emotion away into the deepest part of himself and drowned it so he'd never have to feel anything. 

Then this motherfucker opened everything up again. And it became a tumult, emotions crashing over each other. 

He tucked his hands up under Wade's shirt, pressing his thumbs into Wade's stomach as he took him deeper. All the way to the back of his throat. The friction of his jeans on his own erection was bringing him to a mini-climax as he ground on Wade's shin. 

It rose like an ember, tensing his hands. Wade moved one hand out of his hair to touch his knuckles. 

"Let the claws out if you want, peanut. No organs, please."

The double sensation of Wade in his mouth and the dry, half-orgasm was enough to overwhelm him after the day so far, and he lost control of himself before he could change his hand shape. The claws came out his palms, instead, digging into Wade's lovehandles.

It hurt like fuck, but Wade's shiver underneath him was worth it. 

#####

And he might as well kill me now, because I'm already in heaven.

He clenched around the blades in his side, trying to focus on both the pinpricks of pain and the center of pleasure rising in his pelvis, wallowing in the combined rush of dopamine and endorphins. 

There was the tiniest puff of sound somewhere toward the front of the jet. Through his haze of ecstasy, Wade found a way to focus his attention in that general direction. 

Kurt.

He had realized what was happening mid pulling a bag down from the rack and froze. Wade lifted a finger to his lips and gestured violently with a throw of his head for him to leave. At the same time, Logan took a particularly long drag on him, drawing an absolutely unearthly sound out of Wade's body. 

Kurt puffed out of existence.

That'll learn ya. 

Fuck. Shit. Logan Logan

Distraction gone, his brain started shutting down again. 

Logan Logan Logan

"Logan," he whispered, the sound barely forming around his lips. Logan pulled away, and Wade almost cried. Logan looked up at him through his lashes, keeping his lips barely half an inch away from the tip of Wade's cock.  

"If you're going to say my name, say it properly instead of so quietly you think I can't hear you." He kissed the head. "Because I always do. Every time." He took him in again.

"Logan," Wade moaned. The moan turned to a whine as his stomach and pelvis went alight, his toes curling his shoes, tension breaking around his body. He came hard in Logan's mouth, pulling his face against his body until Logan's nose was touching where his pubic hair used to be.

He released his hands with a hard sigh and gasp, falling back against one of the bulkheads. Logan pulled back, cum and spit creating a bridge between Wade's cock and Logan's lips. He lifted up, pressing those messy lips to Wade's 

"I need to do you," Wade panted into Logan's mouth.

"I'm fine," Logan said. 

"Did you come in your pants, ground bear?" Wade grinned. 

"No," Logan said, but there was a shade of embarrassment. 

He totally did.

There was a clanging knock on the access hatch on the side into the cargo hold. Storm's voice followed. 

"Entering the ship!" 

"Good timing," Logan said, zipping up Wade's pants. "Imagine if they were just a few minutes earlier."

"Hahahah yeah."

Oops.

#####

Logan stood on the back porch, shirtless, letting Puppins out for her last romp of the night. The cherry red of his cigar burned out against the night sky and the glow of the mansion up the lawn. 

No smoking indoors, and Wade didn't really like the smell. So he'd reduced the frequency considerably. The booze, too. He hadn't felt the need to drink nearly as often, but it was never going away completely. After the last few days, for example, a high quality scotch and a cigar did just the trick. 

His phone buzzed on the side table, and he picked it up. It was Kurt. All Logan read was the word " Entschuldige"  before his phone blew up with text messages from everyone on the team. 

"Babe," he called back into the house. "Are emojis the same in this timeline?" 

Wade drifted into the open doorway in just boxers and his off-brand Barbie hoodie that was printed off-center. 

"What the fuck are you talking about, happy feet?"

Logan held up his phone to give him a better look. 

"I just got a whole lot of text messages, but they're all just an eggplant, a knife, and a plane. I don't know what that means."

Wade's nostrils flared. 

"Oh, I have another little German man to kill."

[narrators-journal]

Needing RyoMina ideas? Allow me!

Minato: oh no, im surrounded by enemies and they may kill me(note the dead tone and sarcasm)

BadGuys: Thats Right! Surrender and We MAY not kill you- whats thats bubbling?

Shadow oozes dripping from ceiling

Minato: Oh Thats just my Wife

Death Shadow Morphs around Minato, Howling protectively

Minato: :} say hi love! And don’t leave left overs!

Shiny coming in clutch, fuck yeah! Thank you SO much for feeding me, dude. I’ve been struggling to put the words to paper for these two for days now, but this was so fun that it came so easily! Even if it is also a little...hasty. I was excited to write and post this bad boy, so it might be a little eh on some parts lol. But! I hope it was fun regardless, even if not a perfect match! I went less direct shadow this time, but if you DO really want more of the red riding hood au type of shadow form, feel free to request again! I still love my bird nightmare too <3

CW: Violence and kidnap first and foremost, this is a little bit of an intense set up here lol. Also, be warned, I’ve stated Ryoji has a dark sense of humor, and it shows a bit here, so be mindful of morbid humor when you read!

You’d think kidnappers would be better prepared than this. Minato thought to himself with a muffled oof when he was thrown against the door of the cat-callers’ small car. The rancid sock that they’d stuffed down his throat and handcuffs they’d slapped onto his wrists no help for the midnight-haired man’s mood as tweedle-dumb and tweedle-dumber scrambled into the car before tweedle-dee could drive off without them. “Can’t believe this cutie was walking around at night all alone like that! Did you see how easy she was to sneak up on?” Tweedle-dumber crowed in triumph while he zip-tied the ex-SEES member’s ankles together, even though Minato hadn’t bothered kicking at them. And you’ve set a record for stupidity. “Yeah! Girls usually aren’t that stupid, she really sets a record!” The man at the wheel laughed, the trio seemingly too caught up in their hubris to notice nor care when the emo pushed himself up into a sitting position.

In fact, it took them almost two entire minutes before Tweedle-dumb finally gave the midnight-haired man a bewildered look. “What are you gonna do, sweetheart? Try to jump out of a moving vehicle?” He snorted, though the wildcard could tell his deadpan stare swiftly discomforted him and Tweedle-dumber ever so slightly. “Maybe she’s one of those freaky types. Y’know, those girls who are into being kidnapped and tied up.” said moron suggested, which earned a chorus of lascivious giggles and snickers from the other two. Yet, all Minato did was look the two men over in the passing lights of the street lights and businesses.

Tweedle-dumber was closest to Minato, and thus easier to identify in the darkness of the car. HE wore a backwards snapback, a patchy attempt at goatee that gave him away as a darker-haired man, and baggy college hoodie. Tweedle-dumb, meanwhile, had shoulder-length, badly bleached hair worn in a small ponytail with streaks of missed hair mixed into it. Clothes-wise, Tweedle-dumb wore a tank top that all but flaunted his sides just as much as he surely flaunted his musclular arms. Minato might’ve found the two rather cute in a pathetic sense given a different situation, but all he could think of about the frat boys now was how they surely had an impressively stupid track record and too much axe body spray on hand. Which, despite being unable to see Tweedle-dee through the driver’s seat, the midnight-haired- Would I have technically dropped out if I’d died? -emo was pretty sure that he’d be the same type of skeezy bar-crawler as the first two.

Before he could look out of the window to see how long he’d be here still, a hand tangled itself into his shaggy hair and yanked his attention back to the hat-clad bastard. “Hey! Are you stupid or something? Why are you so nonchalant about this?” He asked, and the wildcard glared at him for a long moment before he spat the sock out at him. “I thought you guys were happy I wasn’t fighting, why are you so grouchy now?” He asked flatly to humor the duo. Might as well burn the time with some fun, I guess. “I mean, it makes this easier, but you sitting there so silently is fucking weird. What’s wrong with you?” Tweedle-dumb asked with a nod from his fellow goon and Minato rolled his eyes. “Sorry, let me try again. Oh noooo, I’m so scared. Won’t someone save me.” He monotone’d, before he fixed the duo with a bored raise of his eyebrow. “How was that?”

Expectedly, the sarcasm that dripped from the wildcard’s flat voice earned him a punch to the jaw from the one in the hoodie, yet the backseat duo only got more disturbed when Minato simply took that moment to move his knees to be against the back of the driver’s seat so that his shoes didn’t have to sink further into the mat of empty cans, food wrappers, and possibly used condoms. Then, he simply looked back at them without even a twitch of pain in his expression. “The hell type of punch was that? I’ve been hit harder during sex.” “What the fuck-” “You dumb bitch we’ll-” “I’ll fucking kill-” They both were cut off before they could choose a threat when Tweedle-dee finally spoke up again from the front seat. “Ayo, there’s some rando in the street.” His words like a brief magnet for their indignant wrath while Minato simply leaned over to look through the car’s windshield.

Sure enough, there was a familiar figure stood beneath the yellow light of a dimmed street light a good bit ahead of the car. And, while Tweedle-dee had slowed the car to almost a crawl due to the thick miasma of dread that seeped into the car more and more, Minato could still tell who it was beneath that weak light. Even as the other two’s anger turned to confusion at the unmoved figure in the darkness. “It’s probably just some tweaker. Just fucking gun it and they’ll move.” Tweedle-dumb said while Tweedle-dumber shoved Minato back against the door. “Just hit the douche. If he doesn’t get out of the way, it’s his own damned fault.” the man suggested.

Minato was all but forgotten by his seatmates at that point. Both of them had their eyes glued to the approaching figure while Tweedle-dee, to his credit, braved the thick atmosphere and sped the car up to try and spook the stranger out of the way. So, he was free to lean back over and watch as the man’s grin came into focus. However, instead of a quick dash to the sidewalk like the frat brothers had expected, he jumped up to land deftly on the hood of their small car. Crouched to stare in through the windshield, unbothered by Tweedle-dee’s slam on the brakes. Minato was a little less lucky, as he was only kept in place by how he had his knees. “Dude what the fuck?!” The driver shrieked over the other two in a wobbly voice, tears inevitable. “Oh, what good timing. Guys, meet my wife.” Minato hummed, his flat voice finally edged with a crumb of amusement as he watched Ryoji’s bottomless eyes turn back to their beautiful, unearthly blue hue so that he could look over the three strange men who were too scared to even remark on the ex-SEES member’s comment.

On average, the 5’11 brunette on the hood was already an impressive sight when he stood, but Minato could truly appreciate how surface level that intimidation factor was now. Because, as Ryoji sat on the balls of his feet, his elbows casually on his knees so he could look into the car, the midnight-haired man could see just how much of an uncanny nightmare his lover was. With the lack of teeth in his open-mouthed smile, unblinking, lightless blue eyes, ghostly pale complexion under the artificial street light, occasional twitches, and then abruptly normal scarf and button-up-and-slacks combo, it was no wonder that the group refused to dare a breath under his gaze.

Yet, just as quick as Minato’s heart had begun to race, the spell was broken when Ryoji stood. Only to stomp the windshield out with a cold ease. And, in an instant, the car went from a horrified silence, to a cacophany of scream-queen shrieks. One silenced when the shadow yanked Tweedle-dee’s face into the steering wheel. Tweedle-dumber silenced when the nightmare swung himself into the car and one of it’s feet slammed into his ribs with a crunch that Minato could hear all the way from his spot against the door. And, finally, Tweedle-dumb was silenced when the shadow’s hand shot out like a viper to crush his airways. Only then, did those pools of moonlit waters meet Minato’s eyes, and when Ryoji spoke, his words were their usual, bright and friendly selves. As if the brunette wasn’t sat perched on the middle console. “Are you hurt, Funeral Li- What happened to your face.” At least, until he spotted the bruise that had formed after Tweedle-dumber had punched Minato. Then, the shadow’s words fell into a cold whisper that vibrated with a power that the midnight-haired persona user had only felt a handful of times. “I-I’m fine, Mochi, I promise. It barely hurt when he hit me.” He assured as he leaned into the tall brunette’s gentle touch. No care shown to the trio of unconscious or stunned men. “Why…” He had to pause to regain his composure, “why did they grab you? I thought I was close enough to scare anything off.” Ryoji asked as he wrapped a finger around the small chain between Minato’s cuffs and tore it apart as if it were wet paper when he yanked the wildcard into his hold. “They seemed to think I was a girl, somehow.” the wildcard hummed. His quickened heartbeat no longer fueled by fear when he could bury his face into his lover’s sunny scarf and breathe in the scent of cold graveyard dirt.

The softly dark chuckle his words earned a further balm to the adrenaline in his veins. “Well damn, why didn’t you tell me you were a girl, Funeral Lily? If I’d known, I would’ve been the one to cuff you. Though, I wouldn’t have bothered with your feet.” Ryoji joked, a heartbeat before he reached down and ripped apart the zip-ties next with a simple twitch of his wrist. But, Minato just shook his head with a snort and leaned back to ask, “What’re you gonna do about them, Nightshade? Turn them into the cops?” “No.” Was the brunette’s simple response, as if Minato had asked him for his preferred dinner. Those pools of blue dimly aglow in the darkness of the backseat, one of his feet now planted firmly into tweedle-dumber’s crotch so he could face the midnight-haired emo as he chuckled, “Well then, you better not leave anything for the police to find if they come looking. I don’t think Mitsuru could pay off the police like she did the teachers at Gekkoukan.” Which got a small noise from one of the trio, but Ryoji simply smiled and gave him a quick peck on the lips. “Of course not, Funeral Lily. Not even their blood.”

[tcwmatchmakingau]

An Awkward Kind of Charm

Pairing: Fives x GN!reader Rating: General Audience (but minors DNI) Summary: Dates always brought out your most nervous, anxious side. You had hoped that going to Right to Love Matchmaking would ease that burden, but now, pacing outside the venue of your first date, you weren't so sure. A.N: I'm just really in love with the idea that Fives likes shy people, I just think they help balance him and in turn he'd bring his love out of their shell. This is a little shorter than my usual work, but I hope you guys like my first take on the matchmaking AU! <;3 Word Count: 1618

Warnings: descriptions of anxiety, spiraling thoughts, and some minor self-deprecation.

"Alright, okay, I can do this!"

You had honestly lost track of how many times you had said that to yourself. It started all the way back at your apartment, as you stared into the mirror and hyped yourself up... and as you stood in your open doorway for a good three minutes. Then it continued on the cab ride here...and while you convinced yourself to climb out of the cab. Now it continued, as you stared at the doors for maker only knew how long.

Dozens of clones and natborns alike had gone inside as you stood frozen in front of the steps. It was an event hosted by Right to Love itself, apparently, there had been such an influx of customers recently, that they had whipped this up: a casual party newcomers could opt in for as their first date with their matches. The idea was that the group setting would make you less nervous, that's why you had agreed when your matchmaker brought it up.

Instead, standing here now, your brain was cooking up 89 different reasons this could go horribly wrong!

What if there were too many people inside? What if your match thought you were boring and sat with his brothers instead? What if you did something stupid in front of not only your date, but his brothers too? What if you mistook your date for one of his brothers?? Oh maker, you would never recover from the guilt of something like that!

"No, stop that, stop spiraling!" you muttered under your breath, making yourself close your eyes and take in a deep breath. In. Out. One, two, three. "I can do this!"

Your eyes shot open, determined as you marched up the steps, put your hand on the door- then turned right on your heel and ran back down.

"I can't do this!"

To stop yourself from marching back to the landing platform for a cab out of there, you started pacing instead. Your clothes were way too tight, your skin too hot and sweaty, even as you pulled your top away from your body and started fanning yourself.

This was ridiculous, the whole point of going to this matchmaking service was to make you less nervous! The thought that you were meeting someone who was statistically supposed to like you was meant to ease your mind, not create new fake scenarios to stress over. Now all you could think about was how you might fail to meet his expectations, this was way too much press-

Just as you were making another turn in your frantic pacing, your body hit something large and firm. You had barely stumbled back before hands were gently gripping your arms.

"Whoa there," the person said, a deep warm chuckle ending the words.

After shaking your head, you righted yourself enough to stare up beyond the firm chest you had run straight into. He was a clone, that much you could tell, like half the others who had already gone inside. He sported a goatee and was smiling at you with warm, dark eyes.

"You okay?" he asked, "You were looking real nervous, even before you bumped into me."

"Oh- I'm so sorry!" you couldn't meet those soft eyes, so instead you stared down at his broad shoulders while your face became an inferno of embarrassment. "I should have been looking where I was going, I wasn't trying to get in your way."

"In my way? Nah, I kinda stepped right into your path, I saw you pacing and wanted to make sure you were okay."

Rather sheepishly, you tilted your gaze back up to his. His smile was less toothy now, but no less warm. "Tha-that was very kind of you," you managed, but that was also the moment you realized he was still holding you, which made your skin heat up even more.

He must have noticed you fidget, because he instantly dropped his hands from your arms and took a small step back. "You still haven't answered my question, you know," he teased.

"What?"

"My question. I asked if you're okay," another deep chuckle, "you look like you're about to jump out of your skin."

"Oh! Oh, I was just trying to calm myself. I'm just really nervous about this date."

"Nervous? Worried your trooper won't be a prince charming?"

You blinked stupidly at him, "Him? No, no I'm nervous about me! I'm a total wreck when meeting new people, especially on dates."

"Ah, I see," he folded his arms over his chest, "so you're just shy?"

"Something like that," despite yourself, you let out a little laugh, feeling just a little of the tension in your shoulder loosen.

The man stroked his goatee with a hum, "What's your dates name? If I know him I can tell you a bit about him. Maybe that would make him seem less like a stranger?"

You were smiling now, it was a sweet offer, whoever this man was, his date was lucky. "Fives- his name, it's Fives. That's all they told me about him."

His eyes went a bit wide, "Fives, really?"

"You know him?"

The hand that had been stroking his goatee was covering his mouth now, "Oh yeah, I know him. Great guy, super funny and charming, brave, a war hero to boot."

Without missing a beat you stomped your foot on the ground, making him jump, "Kriff- of course he is!"

"What? Don't like funny charming war heroes?" he asked, looking just a little wounded.

"Of course I love funny charming guys, that's the problem!" Your feet were moving again, pacing, just like your brain was twirling back into a spiral. "I can't ever get my act together on dates with those types of guys. Which sucks because I'm not this shy all the time! It's only on dates where I overanalyze everything. In a casual, no-expectations setting? I am actually incredibly charming! I'm hilarious and witty and can carry on a conversation just fine! But when I'm on a date? Nope, nada, I'm all flustered and nervous, and everything that comes out of my mouth- if I can manage anything at all, is stuttering nonsense! And it's even worse when the person's a total hottie!! I never get a chance to become my witty, funny, charming self, because I've already scared them away with my awkward stupid self! And-!"

Finally, far far too long into your rambling, you stopped yourself, face hotter than ever,

"And, now" your sigh turned into a tired, defeated laugh, "now I'm standing here keeping a very sweet man from his date because I'm dumping my issues on him. I am so sorry," a wave of your hand towards the entrance, "I don't want to keep you, thank you for checking in on me, it was very kind of you to ask."

You had hoped that he would just nod and be on his way, but instead, the man's grin was wide as he stepped closer to you, his hand holding his chin in mock contemplation.

"Oh don't think I can do that, cyare. Fives would never forgive me if I left you out here alone, you look like you're about ready to take off."

That made your back straighten as you put your hands on your hips, "I don't run, I never run from my dates, I always face it.... I just freak out and overanalyze every cringy thing I did for weeks after I scare them away."

He let out a laugh at that, and it was only then that you noticed he was even closer now. His breath fanned your ear when he leaned in close to you, "You're gonna have to try a lot harder than that to scare me away, cyar'ika."

By the time he leaned back, a shit-eating grin plastered on his face, your mouth was hung open, eyes wide. Slowly, the pieces fell into place, especially when you noticed the 5 tattooed on his temple.

You couldn't even meet his eyes as you moved to walk passed him, "Excuse me, I'm going to launch myself into air traffic now."

He- Fives, laughed as he stuck out an arm and scooped you back to your place in front of him. "Didn't you just say you don't run away?"

"Well this hasn't exactly happened on my other dates," you grumbled, "I just info dumped all my issues on the man I'm supposed to be charming!"

He made a dismissive noise then took your arm, tucking it under his own. "Oh, baby, I'm definitely charmed."

"You're teasing me," you failed to keep the slightly petulant tone away as he started walking to the door, arm still secure around you.

"Eh, maybe a little, but I'm not lying. I kinda liked seeing that side of you, lets me know I need to take my time with you. Now, if you get quiet at all during our date, I'll know it's just because you're being awkward, not because you don't like me."

Despite yourself, you found your smile slowly coming back. He was so free and open with his thoughts, it was honestly pretty refreshing, especially with how understanding he was being about the whole thing. He forgot to say 'incredibly sweet' when describing himself earlier. Maybe once you got over your first date awkwardness, you'd joke about holding him accountable for that little charade he played.

"Now, how about we enjoy our first date, cyar'ika. I promise I'll be funny and charming, and give you a chance to do the same."

Your face was still hot, but pleasantly so now, and you leaned into his arm as you said, "I'd really like that, Fives."

[writebackatya]

I feel like I’m the only one who wanted Negaduck to return not because I need closure on Drake and Launchpad finding out that their hero is now a villain but because I need all the snarky characters who never watched the OG Darkwing Duck to roast this egotistical tv star to oblivion

[Explosion happens; Negaduck walks out of the hole in the wall with two guns in his hands and points one directly at Gosalyn]

Negaduck: Where is Darkwing?

Gosalyn: Why should I tell you, you cheap copycat?

Negaduck: Copycat!? I am the ORIGINAL DARKWING DUCK!

Louie: Then why are you wearing an off-brand costume?

Lena: Yeah, I’m not even that big of a fan of Darkwing but I’m pretty sure his costume is purple or something

Gandra: Yeah and you can’t really call yourself the original if St. Canard has had their own Darkwing long before you showed up.

Negaduck: I AM THE ORIGINAL AND THIS IS NOT A OFF-BRAND COSTUME!!! I am Jim Starling!!

The Good Guys: …

Negaduck: …From the original Darkwing Duck show!!

Gosalyn: Dude. Literally none of us here were alive during the 60s.

Negaduck: IT WAS FROM THE 90s!!! And there wouldn’t be a Darkwing if it wasn’t for me!!

Gandra: Oh? He was solely your idea and you were part of the writing team?

Negaduck: …No! I played the part! And no one else can replace me!

Gosalyn: St. Canard says otherwise.

Negaduck: Well St. Canard will regret that decision once I take care of that amateur!

Lena: So are you supposed to be like the “evil” version of Darkwing Duck? That’s kinda lame…

Negaduck: What!?

Louie: No, I agree. Evil versions of characters are so lazy. “Ooh I’m like you except I’m wearing a different colored version of your costume.”

Gandra: All that’s missing is an evil moustache or a goatee.

Lena: So if you’re the “evil” version of Darkwing Duck is your name like…Lightwing Duck?

Negaduck: What!? No! That’s stupid!

Lena: Hey, you’re the one wearing yellow and red. Those aren’t really evil colors by the way

Gandra: Unless your whole schtick is stealing hamburgers.

Negaduck: My colors are chaotic and sorta the inverse of Darkwing’s!! For I am Negaduck!!

Louie: What? Was The Anti-Darkwing taken?

Negaduck: Okay! That’s it! I have had enough of everyone’s sass! For too long Jim Starling has been ignored by the world! But that ends today when I Negaduck will finally kill that cheap copy of Darkwing Du-

Gandra: {cuts his speech short by walking up to the duck and electrocuting him for a good 30 seconds}

Negaduck: {falls down to the ground unconscious}

Gosalyn: Well that was easy.

Gandra: I hate it when actors think they’re tough because they play a tough guy on TV.

Lena: So what should we rendezvous with the others?

Gosalyn: Yeah. I’ll let Darkwing and Gizmoduck know to get rid of this guy

Louie: {points to the body on the ground} Is he going to be okay?

[The group stares at the Jim Starling’s body till it twitches]

Gandra: He’s fine, let’s go.

[lissielives]

The rape joke is that you were nineteen years old.

The rape joke is that he was your boyfriend.

The rape joke it wore a goatee. A goatee.

Imagine the rape joke looking in the mirror, perfectly reflecting back itself, and grooming itself to look more like a rape joke. "Ahhhh," it thinks. "Yes. A goatee."

No offense.

The rape joke is that he was seven years older. The rape joke is that you had known him for years, since you were too young to be interesting to him. You liked that use of the word interesting, as if you were a piece of knowledge that someone could be desperate to acquire, to assimilate, and to spit back out in different form through his goateed mouth.

Then suddenly you were older, but not very old at all.

The rape joke is that you had been drinking wine coolers.

Wine coolers! Who drinks wine coolers? People who get raped, according to the rape joke.

The rape joke is he was a bouncer, and kept people out for a living.

Not you!

The rape joke is that he carried a knife, and would show it to you, and would turn it over and over in his hands as if it were a book.

He wasn't threatening you, you understood. He just really liked his knife.

The rape joke is he almost murdered a dude by throwing him through a plate-glass window. The next day he told you and he was trembling, which you took as evidence of his sensitivity.

How can a piece of knowledge be stupid? But of course you were so stupid.

The rape joke is that sometimes he would tell you you were going on a date and then take you over to his best friend Peewee's house and make you watch wrestling while they all got high.

The rape joke is that his best friend was named Peewee.

OK, the rape joke is that he worshipped The Rock.

Like the dude was completely in love with The Rock. He thought it was so great what he could do with his eyebrow.

The rape joke is that he called wrestling "a soap opera for men." Men love dram too, he assured you.

The rape joke is that his bookshelf was just a row of paperbacks about serial killers. You mistook this for an interest in history, and laboring under his misapprehension you once gave him a copy of Gunter Grass's My Century, which he never even tried to read.

It gets funnier.

The rape joke is that he kept a diary. I wonder if he wrote about the rape in it. The rape joke is that you read it once, and he talked about another girl. He called her Miss Geography, and said "he didn't have those urges when he looked at her anymore," not since he met you. Close call, Miss Geography!

The rape joke is that he was your father's high school student--your father taught World Religion. You helped him clean out his classroom at the end of the year, and he let you take home the most beat-up textbooks.

The rape joke is that he knew you when you were twelve years old. He once helped your family move two states over, and you drove from Cincinnati to St. Louis with him, all by yourselves, and he was kind to you, and you talked the whole way. He had chaw in his mouth the entire time, and you told him he was disgusting and he laughed, and spat the juice through his goatee into a Mountain Dew bottle.

The rape joke is that come on, you should have seen it coming. This rape joke is practically writing itself.

The rape joke is that you were facedown. The rape joke is you were wearing a pretty green necklace that your sister had made for you. Later you cut that necklace up. The mattress felt a specific way, as if you were speaking, but you know you were not. As if your mouth were open ten years into the future, reciting a poem called Rape Joke.

The rape joke is that time is different, becomes more horrible and more habitable, and accommodates your need to go deeper into it.

Just like the body, which more than a concrete form is a capacity.

You know the body of time is elastic, can take almost anything you give it, and heals quickly.

The rape joke is that of course there was blood, which in human beings is so close to the surface.

The rape joke is you went home like nothing happened, and laughed about it the next day and the day after that, and when you told people you laughed, and that was the rape joke.

It was a year before you told your parents, because he was like a son to them. The rape joke is that when you told your father, he made the sign of the cross over you and said, "I absolve you of your sins, in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit," which even in its total wrongheadedness, was so completely sweet.

The rape joke is that you were crazy for the next five years, and had to move cities, and had to move states, and whole days went down into the sinkhole of thinking about why it happened. Like you went to look at your backyard and suddenly it wasn't there, and you were looking down into the center of the earth, which played the same red event perpetually.

The rape joke is that after a while you weren't crazy anymore, but close call, Miss Geography.

The rape joke is that for the next five years all you did was write, and never about yourself, about anything else, about apples on the tree, about islands, dead poets and the worms that aerated them, and there was no warm body in what you wrote, it was elsewhere.

The rape joke is this his finally artless. The rape joke is that you do not write artlessly.

The rape joke is if you write a poem called Rape Joke, you're asking for it to become the only thing people remember about you.

The rape joke is that you asked why he did it. The rape joke is he said he didn't know, like what else would a rape joke say? The rape joke said YOU were the one who was drunk, and the rape joke said you remembered it wrong, which made you laugh out loud for one long split-open second. The wine coolers weren't Bartles & Jaymes, but it would be funnier for the rape joke if they were. It was some pussy flavor, like Passionate Mango or Destroyed Strawberry, which you drank down without question and trustingly in the heart of Cincinnati, Ohio.

Can rape jokes be funny at all, is the question.

Can any part of the rape joke be funny. The part where it ends--haha, just kidding! Though you did dream of killing the rape joke for years, spilling all of its blood out, and telling it that way.

The rape joke cries out for the right to be told.

The rape joke is that this is just how it happened.

The rape joke is that the next day he gave you Pet Sounds. No really. Pet Sounds. He said he was sorry and then he gave you Pet Sounds. Come on, that's a little bit funny.

Admit it. Rape Joke Patricia Lockwood

[boop-le-snoot]

daddy lessons 2

this goes out for all my people who have dealt with shit on their own and feel uncomfortable reaching out & asking for help. and daddy issues, oh boy.

18+, mostly plot, at the end is a bisexual threeway with m/m action so proceed at your own discretion. daddy kink (duh) written all lowercase

>

"who's a needy baby today?" tony coos, stroking the side of your face - the only thing that is visible under the mountain of blankets you've surrounded yourself with.

the smell of his cologne, usually strong and smokey, coupled with the metallic tang of mechanical oil, penetrates the defenses you have put up against the world.

yet you chuff, and the blankets squirm with you in silent defiance. you're down on your luck, so miserable it makes you irritated and thus avoidant. it's always so inconvenient when things that are out of your control go wrong, and even more unreasonable is the time you have to spend like this - cocooned and withdrawn - to calm down.

your short fuse is both a curse and a blessing.

tony is smart. he waits out the first waves of annoyance and rides them out, stroking your cheek throughout your glaring. when he sees your shoulders - or at least the general area of them obscured by the blankets - droop, he takes the cue for what it is, unfurling the top layers of your fluffy shield, to snuggle in next to you.

"damn, you're toasty," he remarks casually as your skin scalds him even through his shirt and jeans. it makes the clothes go, quickly, and he is soon curled up with you in just his boxers as the blankets cover the two of you once more. "this is basically bulletproof," he adds, poking the blankets right over your stomach, "so, now it's us versus the world. very romantic, if i do say so myself."

you sigh, a long, quiet breath, letting your head drop on his shoulder. your nostrils flare as the smell of him invades your personal space bubble: almost hypnotized by it, you draw another, deeper, calmer breath. your fingers lightly scratch over the hair on his tummy, an absent-minded gesture of affection that is as soft as it is sweet.

"long day," you mumbled, finally, not wanting to test tony's patience too much. "some people are bilingual by default. they speak english and stupid."

tony's laugh is sweet and genuine, "don't i know it, baby girl."

you chuff again, sigh again and press your face into the crook of his neck, where his goatee scratches against your face, offering a familiar, grounding comfort.

"stupid is a liability, so kindly tell me who needs to get sacked. pretty please, with a cherry on top."

"it's not your people, it's steph's students," the edge creeps back into your voice as you are forced to recall the shouting match that happened a few hours earlier. you hate shouting and you hate stupidity and you hate people who can't follow simple instructions. "well, apprentices, but whatever. went toe to toe with three idiots, they didn't listen to a word i said and now one is in a coma, one has some sort of a soul curse or something and the third one just ran off. wong is pissed and my whole back is bruised."

the words come off angrier that you intend them to be, but anger offers a familiar comfort. it's certainly better than the fear you'd felt: first, standing your ground to three men with magic powers and afterwards, almost becoming collateral to an entity you couldn't even see, much less fight.

"come that by me again?" tony is still next to you and the twitching in his fingers makes you unbearably nervous.

"i was in the sanctum's library as usual and overheard those idiots talking, hell-bent on performing a small cleansing ritual. except i took latin in college and told them they're about to summon something. they didn't listen, of course."

"and your back?"

"got thrown against the shelves when it arrived. luckily wong was nearby and the shelf that fell on me took the brunt of their spells." you stated, sensing it in your bones that stephen had temporarily lost tony's favour - at least for the night. "and before you say it, stephen went to kamar-taj on urgent business. he's probably back at the sanctum right now and is trying to fix up those idiots so he can send them to jesus himself."

tony gave a weak, sarcastic chuckle, "if he won't, i will." hands smoothed over you chest, your stomach - tony's way of making sure you were safe, you were with him and whole. "turn around, i'll take a look at your back. i'm no doctor but..."

with a grunt, you untangled yourself from the blankets once more and gracelessly flopped onto your stomach. the heat of your skin met the cool air of the room as your shirt was promptly pulled up. face smushed against a pillow, you eyed tony's concerned expression as he traced something on your back.

"bruised, probably," you deduced by the downturn of his frown.

"looks like you were lashed," his brows furrowed. "magic and all that shit, no?"

"probably," you shrugged. a cool shower had eased most of the pain and keeping it warm afterwards had seemed to help lots.

most of your injuries were mental - the indignation at being dismissed by the apprentices as some sort of child, despite you spending so much time with the sorcerer supreme himself, you were pretty sure at this point you knew more than they did. at least in theory. at least linguistically you definitely did.

"when did you get home?" tony asked, reaching into the bedside table, rummaging around for a bottle of neutral lotion he kept there.

"round two, i think. took a cab."

"that was four hours ago," tony's eyes, wide and hurt, settled on your face as he gently massaged the lotion onto your wounds. "why didn't you tell j to get me?"

why didn't you?

"tones, i'm not gonna interrupt your sciencing for a boo-boo. i'm fine, just annoyed as fuck."

"quite obviously you're not fine. i'm a genius, I would know," the response was immediate.

"okay, maybe i'm very pissed," you emphasized, a slight twang of exasperation lacing the words.

satisfied with the state of your back, tony capped the lotion and tossed it aside, turning you over onto your back once more. a few stray curls hung over his face, curtaining the crease between his eyebrows and doing little to conceal sparks of worry and understanding etched deeply in his warm, brown eyes.

you could only squirm as tony's plump lips softly touched your nose.

"your little adventure sounds terrifying," he enunciated the word with venom, "fighting something once can't even see. something that, apparently, hates bookshelves and cute little bunnies. was it the devil?"

you know tony; you know that this is just his way of dealing with big feelings, his own or someone else's, and more importantly, you know that he knows it works on you. it thaws your heart every time, little by little. the corners of your mouth go up.

"you're the devil," your eyes are drawn to the sinful curve of his cupid's bow, the pink, moist flesh of his mouth.

as it opens into a wide, red grin, he leans into you and edges his face under your chin, biting down into your neck.

it tickles more than aches and you giggle, your first actual laugh since the incident.

tony lays into it, growling and rubbing his scratchy beard on your skin, leaving it raw and tender.

the trickle of your giggles is now a waterfall; as his hands join, softly skimming your sides, both of you succumb to the, perhaps, childish joy - but who are you to complain : the tension just evaporates, like muddy puddles in blazing july sunlight.

that's how you two miss the tell-tale whoosh noise of a portal opening right in your shared bedroom. stephen stays quiet, observing the activities with tired, but fond amusement, until the shriek you let out is south of the border of comfort-

"ahem," he says, lowly, enjoying the reaction as you and tony surface from the cuddle with hot cheeks and shining eyes.

"babe," tony falls onto his back, opening his arms wide, "we were just wondering if you would need bail money."

you scoot closer to tony, suddenly feeling awkward.

steph snorts, taking his time to untie and unlace the myriad of fastenings of his sorcerer attire, stretching as the heavy outer layers fall onto the back of a chair.

in the corner of your eye, you see the cloak dart to its favourite spot behind a houseplant, out of everyone's immediate sight and within an arm's reach of a window. evening sunlight seems to be a hit with the relic.

"i have very little idea of what happened, actually, and wong is still very much aggravated so i'd rather not risk my ass trying to find out," stephen's jovial tone has you and tony sharing a knowing look: it won't last long.

as the sorcerer departs for the shower, you shrug, "wong is really into his books."

as soon as stephen is out, tony opens his mouth without thinking.

"some of your scholars summoned a demon and it dropped some shelves on our bunny," he cringes a second after he blurts it out.

steph freezes mid-step, dark eyes scanning all over your form.

"pardon?"

"yea," you confirm meekly, discreetly elbowing tony in the gut.

he lets out a soft oof.

"are you okay?" something like panic briefly washes over stephen's face: it fades quickly, however, replaced by annoyance. he saunters over to you, dropping his towel, and slides in bed next to you, his warm, nude body resting against yours as his eyes scan over yours.

"her back's all weird," tony supplies, unhelpfully, and forces you to strip your shirt and turn your backside towards stephen.

"i'm fine, it doesn't hurt anymore," you protest, but know better than to move as stephen's fingers trace the linear markings and the odd bruise.

stephen curses as he demands you tell the details of the incident, again. and maybe you do, in a bit more detail than before, and maybe tony joins in on the cursing.

your face is ablaze, you're sure the heat emanating from it would be enough to keep the whole damn manhattan warm in the upcoming winter and something like unease, something heavy and sticky twists in your gut. any moment and stephen will chastise you - for not getting out as soon as you heard the idiots, for trying to intervene. the humiliation burns, too, of being reminded how much weaker you are, even than the worst, laziest scholar.

"you with us?" tony's concerned voice snaps you out of the zone.

"yea, sorry, zoned out."

"i should go and see if i can do anything about the consequences of the spell," stephen says, but makes no move to get up. "although i probably should cool down first. no point in doing all that work if i kill them all afterwards," his tone is humourless.

your hip under his fingers feels all the effects of his stress and his restraint. his hands are tense as they caress you, shaking the tiniest bit.

tony covers stephen's hand with his. both of them curl around you, strong and large limbs surrounding every inch of your body. like most nights, you don't need a blanket at all.

"why didn't you call me?" stephen's words tangle in your hair.

"i thought you were fighting some alien monstrosity," some honesty was offered from you.

stephen chuckles, "i'd get you home first. otherwise tony would pitch a fit."

"would not," the engineer immediately retorts, poking stephen in the belly.

"would too," the sorcerer rolls his eyes, catching the hand in his and bringing it up to his mouth to plant a loud smooch on it, effectively trapping you close between the two of them.

he's still tense and suddenly, you're very aware of his nudity and your own lack of attire. the tiny cotton panties barely provide any cover from tony's naturally hot, bulky body heating your front; you feel the direct result of stephen's tension beginning to poke at the low of your back.

he's a gentleman about it, though, so he adjusts himself for it to rest comfortably between the cheeks of your ass. the mewl that escapes you at the feeling is embarrassing, but considerably less so when a responding rumble makes way outta stephen's mouth and into tony's.

it's difficult to refrain from diving head-first into your arousal when the men beside you simultaneously reach out to lock their lips in a slow, heated kiss that leaves them with puffy lips and hooded eyes.

"fuck," you mumble, because is there? anything else? to say?

tony's mouth is now on you and stephen is pulling your panties down your legs, sliding his hard, heavy cock between your thighs and his fingers between your outer lips, toying with your clit slowly as tony fucks your mouth with his tongue.

long and slender, stephen's fingers play your taut strings with surgical precision. slick leaks from you and onto your thighs, aiding in the languid, lazy strokes of his cock against them, huffs of lust leaving his mouth when the sensitive tip brushes over your hole. it collects more and more moisture, your orgasm at a deliciously convenient distance.

for now.

you palm tony's erection, clumsily reaching into his boxers, helping him to pull them down, toying with his heavy balls, the two of you swallowing each other's moans and gasps.

as the blunt tip of stephen's cock snags a little too sweet, a little too steady, almost dipping into your cunt, you let out a pathetic, desperate whine, acutely conveying the emptiness insider of you.

"daddy's got you," stephen rumbles, rolling over onto his back and grabbing you with him. it's an easy job for a man his size.

you rest comfortably, back to his chest, as the tip of his cock aims directly for your entrance, breaching it with little resistance due to the copious amounts of sweet, sweet arousal coming from you.

briefly, you grunt, letting your eyes slide shut and body do a full reset.

tony's shuffling gets lost in your attempts to steady your breathing: stephen is filling you, stretching you, but not moving. it's all too much but it's not enough. your feet planted on his thighs, you try to seek friction but another pair of hands on your hips stops you.

hot breath tickles the inside of your thigh as you and stephen emit a choked moan in unison: tony's tongue slides up the shaft of stephen's cock and curls over your clit, a sensation that makes your hackles rise and your pussy clench and gush in desperation.

your eyes are still closed but you swear you can see tony's cheeky grin as clear as day: the mischievous sparkle in his eyes as he bends down and licks again, keeping you and stephen steady with his hands on your hips. tony's mouth is a devil of its own, your own personal brand of torture.

stephen grips you, a tell-tale sign of his self-control crumbling; the flutters of your cunt around the tip of his cock and tony's mouth lapping up your juices as they drip down his shaft are surely driving the sorcerer mad in more ways than possible.

tony sucks on your clit just right, flicks it with determination and you feel your legs shake: your cunt grips at stephen's cock with vigour now, contractions almost rhythmic.

"she's gonna come," stephen says, a breathless chuckle.

tony just hums, keeping up the pace and-

yes, you do. bucking your hips helplessly, no match for the iron grips of your men.

as soon as it starts, tony withdraws, letting stephen pound into you with all his might: like that, the original orgasm blends into another one, or something else, you can't tell.

there's drool running down the corner of your slack mouth, open moans reduced to mere whimpers.

stephen's cum is hot and abundant as it floods your cunt, bringing a sense of fulfillment none other can bring. well, maybe...

"hold her open for me?" tony asks as stephen comes down from his high.

you feel his dopey smile in his movements. the way he slides out of you, grabs hold of your legs and opens your swollen, leaking cunt to tony's prying eyes. you can't help but shudder.

the blunt tip of tony's cock slides in even easier; stephen is longer, but tony is thicker. the stretch is pleasant, the little bit of extra friction just on the side of overstim. as tony grabs your legs and begins to move, fluid, practiced strokes that aim at your special spot, stephen's hands wander to palm your neglected tits.

you mewl some more, louder, higher, with some pet names and obsceneties thrown in this time.

"bunny's got all up in her head today," tony's voice drops, gravelly. "and that's okay, we'll fuck all those silly little thoughts out of you, won't we?"

stephen laughs good-naturedly, pinching your pebbled nipples, "yes, we will, baby."

tony does just that.

[onsunnyside]

…why do I suddenly have a need for a fic where reader convinces ransom to participate in no shave November? 🥵

you’ve always had a thing for ✨beards✨ and Ransom knew that before you two became exclusive (he’s seen your ex’s bc you had the same friend group: there was a long haired beefy professor, a divorced lawyer, and the wannabe porn director) *long drabble below*

On a night out on the town with your friends, and after a few drinks, the talk of no shave November comes up when you’re conveniently getting refills.

“I just think it’s weird—she clearly has a type.” Carol props her elbow on the table, staring at Ransom. “Yet, she ended up with you.”

“She’s never complained.”

“Maybe not to your face.” Bucky says.

“It’s the beard, right? Well, the lack of one.” Steve adds lamely, “I thought of that too, but people make exceptions.”

Ransom feels jealously prickle at his skin. He was not an exception.

“Especially if they’re rich.” Curtis laughs.

“Not everyone is a gold digger like you. That reminds me, how is that girlfriend of yours? The one who’s literal seconds away from being in a grave?”

“Am I on her will? Maybe. So don’t come crying to me when your trust fund runs out.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Ransom scoffs, knowing well enough of the fortune he’s sitting on. The one that could support you too, but no, you want to be independent and not sit around his mansion all day. Still feeling those eyes locked on his face, he sighs deeply. “Can I help you, Carol?”

“I can’t stop thinking about it!”

“Thinking about what?” You pop up, carefully handing out the drinks. There’s an extra that you place in front of your boyfriend. “Some guy kept flirting with me and asked to buy me a drink, so I ordered one for you.”

“You’re the fucking best, baby.” Ransom grins, slipping out of the booth for you to sit on the inside. He slides back onto the cushion with an arm around your shoulders.

“What would Ransom look like with a beard?” Steve asks.

You tilt your head and squint. “Like one of my ex’s.”

“Okay, but you like beards, right?” If there’s one thing everyone knows about Carol is that she’s relentless, “all of your ex boyfriends had beards, or at least facial hair. Like that one with the moustache or the nerd with the goatee.”

“There’s nothing wrong with a clean shave.” You defend, knowing how Ransom doesn’t like talking about your ex’s. It was rough for him to see you with other guys, the girl who he’s been pining for since you met. “Look at Steve! He’s bare too—well sort of.”

“I shaved this morning, is it growing back already?” Steve rubs his chin, “Aw shit.”

“Maybe he needs some tips on growing a beard.” Curtis taunts, “need some help, Ran? It wouldn’t be very kind of me to leave you to suffer.”

“If he grew a beard, would you be more attracted to him?” Bucky asks.

“You can’t ask that!” Steve’s eyes widened. “That’s so rude!”

“Shut up, the adults are talking.” He waves a hand dismissively, prompting the blond to roll his eyes.

“Well?” Carol leans forward, a straw between her teeth.

You’re quiet for a few moments, the tension building with every breath. Your friends were so nosy!

“I can’t say I’ve never thought of it.”

Three out of the four erupt in cheers, Steve now thoughtfully looking at his reflection in a spoon. “Do women actually prefer facial hair?”

“No!” You avoid Ransom’s stare that burns through your skull. “Everyone is different.”

“But do you?” Bucky cuts their stupid celebration short.

“I’m not answering that.” You take a hearty gulp of your drink, welcoming the burning sensation down your throat.

“Do you prefer it?” Ransom speaks up, turning his whole body towards you and effectively trapping you in the booth. His brows are furrowed tightly, “do you prefer beards?”

“I—well… I mean… ugh! You’re all terrible!” You huff, hiding your face in your hands. “Yes, beards are hot! They’re sexy and immediately add a man to my DILF list, okay?”

“You have a list too?” Carol squeals, “who’s on it? I have a MILF list!”

“Am I on the list?” Ransom asks.

“You aren’t a dad.”

Yeah, but you call him daddy. And plenty of DILFs weren’t actual dads.

Now that he thinks of it, you did have a thing for older men too—especially when you dated that lawyer, his son wasn’t your age, but he was close enough that your new stepmom status was questionable.

“I don’t classify as a DILF to you?”

“Do we have to talk about this now?” You slump, “would you look sexy with a beard? Yes! But you do you look sexy without one? Of course! You could pull off any look, and I love you for you. Nothing will change just because I find beards attractive.”

It goes quiet and you finally think the topic is over, but nope. Carol picks up the shovel again, and digs you a deeper hole.

“But I imagine the beard burn feels really good, right? Better than just clean shaved because of the sensations?”

[thornsnvultures]

Alright, for your birthday ask how about a little six action drabble😏

You met him on an assignment, there is obvious sexual tension and things went south. You both head back to the safehouse and he is more banged up than you so you clean up his cuts and then things get spicy.

Ps. Six looks so cut in TGM 🥵 I'm almost starting to lean more towards him than Lloyd

Thank you! 🥰 Oh I'm totally leaning towards Six too lol 😆

I got another request similar to this from @ozarkthedog that said:

How about a drabble with Six!! You held him clean his wounds?? Or maybe he helps clean yours after someone tried to kidnap you??

So I kind of combined the two, if that's alright.

eyes on me ♡

Sierra Six x gn!agent!reader

Words: under 500

Warnings: injuries, kidnapping, needles, illusions to sexy times

18+ BLOG, MINORS DNI. IF YOU INTERACT AND YOU DON’T HAVE YOUR AGE VISIBLE ON YOUR BLOG YOU WILL BE BLOCKED. 18+ BLOG, MINORS DNI.

"Ow!"

"Would you sit still? I've never heard someone complain so much in one day."

Your eyebrows furrowed in concentration as you slipped the hooked needle through Six's arm. The gash running up his forearm is still oozing slightly so you're trying to move quickly.

"Next time try not to get kidnapped then, okay?"

"Oh sure, I'll tell the guys who set us up to be more considerate. Maybe they'll think twice about tossing me in the back of a moving van."

Your last tug on the string is maybe a little harsher than it should've been if Six's wince and low growl is anything to go by.

"I told you to stay put. You were safe at the docks."

You huffed and rolled your eyes as you packaged the first aid kit back up and stored it away under the kitchen sink.

"It was my mission too, asshole."

"Hey."

Six reaches for you with his good arm before you can walk away, hide in the bedroom of the safe house you two are stuck in until your pick up comes.

Thoughts of what happened in that van, what you had to do to defend yourself swim through your head. You trained for years on how to keep yourself safe in a situation like that, only to freeze, to let fear consume you in those few short moments. You were almost taken, almost jeopardized the whole mission and got Six hurt in the process. And you felt stupid for not listening to him in the first place.

"You're right. I should've taken you with me."

"No, I-"

"The safest place in the world for you," Six tugs gently on your hand, "is right here with me."

You look up from his bandaged up arm to the multitude of cuts and bruises marring his handsome face.

A sob catches in your throat but you won't le7t it free, you can't. You're supposed to be stronger than this.

But he's right. He makes you feel safe. Even if staying with him is more dangerous, nothing feels better than being wrapped up in his arms. Like you are right now.

"I almost lost you."

Six tightens his grip around your waist and buries his head in your neck.

"We really need to stop working together."

His goatee tickles your skin when he smiles.

"You know I'm never letting you out of my sight again, right?"

"Fine," you pull away, keeping your hand entwined with his as you move, leading him down the hall to the bedroom. "Keep your eyes on me then. I have something that requires your attention."

[somethingusefulfromflorida]

Clone High season 2 ideas

James Garfield and William McKinley are like Wario and Waluigi to Abe and JFK. Nobody knows who they are.

Instead of bringing back GESH, Clone High has a new rival school, Clone Prep, where all the students are actually successful copies of their clonefathers. They're treated like the rich kid camp across the lake, they ALWAYS win the championship. All the clones look exactly the same, but they have evil goatees to show they're from the mirror universe. Which would be funnier, the Secret Board of Shadowy Figures operating a dozen different clone schools across the country, or Clone Prep being operated by the Canadian government?

Clone Ronald Reagan is a bleeding heart liberal theater kid who JUST WANTS TO DANCE, DAD!

There's a Very Special Episode that deals with teen pregnancy and whether or not to get an abortion, and it's handled in the most over the top and offensive way possible; later it's revealed that clones are like mules and can't reproduce, so the episode ends with a "consequence-free" orgy, but everyone winds up in the clinic with herpes. Principal Scurdworth reminisces, "I remember my first orgy. I was the guy who mopped up afterwards. Still got herpes though."

Scalia and Ginsburg are co-captains of the debate team, they're clearly crushing on one another and everybody else is like "will they or won't they?" The episode is a retelling of Romeo and Juliet (or rather West Side Story); they're star-crossed lovers from two different worlds, society won't let them be together. They both tragically die at the end, but everyone just moves on afterwards like it was nothing.

Bobby Kennedy is introduced as JFK's snotty towheaded little brother like Cousin Oliver or Dennis the Menace. He's got an annoying catchphrase, he's always screwing everything up, but he's just so saccharinely cute that everyone thinks he's precocious. He's immediately put on a bus and never seen again after this episode.

Season 1 was a parody of 90s teen dramas, so season 2 would have to play catchup by going through the decades one shitty show at a time; from 90210 to Dawson's Creek to the OC to Glee to Riverdale, getting more and more ridiculous with each scene.

Abe keeps getting shown up by cool kid Jefferson Davis, and the student body splits in two over some Twilight style Team Edward/Team Jacob bullshit (maybe something even stupider like the blue-black/yellow-white dress or yanny/lorel)

Ulysses S. Grant is a rapper nicknamed 50 Buck, and he's got beef with Robert E. Lee (Ja REL)

Richard Nixon is so jealous of JFK that he goes all Single White Female on him, dressing like him, acting like him, pretending to be him, "I just wanna be like you, Jack... I'm not a creep." When faced with expulsion for cheating on a test, Nixon drops out of school and the class gets a new student Gerry Ford to replace him.

The clones go on an international field trip, and Joan discovers that she REALLY hates France. When they get on their return flight to America, Scudworth realizes he left Napoleon behind like Home Alone, and he conquers Eurodisney (maybe it would be funnier if the school couldn't afford to go to actual Europe, so they go to a cheap EPCOT knockoff instead, United Nations Land, with miniature versions of famous buildings and landmarks; theres a huge line for couples to climb the one-story Eiffel Tower and make out)

Genghis Khan is best friends with Atilla the Hun, but nobody else ever sees him so everyone thinks he's imaginary like Mr Snuffleupagus

The Elvis twins die and are replaced by clones of Elvis impersonators

Leonardo da Vinci, Michelangelo, Raphael, and Donatello all work at one of those stripmall karate dojos for little kids

Abe joins a boy band with Georgie W, Tommy J, and Teddy R, called Big Time Rushmore, and they become bigger than Jesús Cristo. Cleo is Yoko Ono and causes the band to split up.

Groucho Marx and John Lennon are leaders of the Clone High Communist Party

Joseph Stalin is a Russian chess champion like Kasparov, but it turns out he's a filthy cheater. He's disqualified from the championship, but instead of learning an Aesop lesson he kills all the other contestants and wins the trophy by default (he's not even Russian, he's Georgian, which in this case means he has a thick southern drawl and loves peaches and boiled peanuts)

A regular non-clone student transfers to Clone High due to a technical error, and he become the tragic Frank Grimes-esque "only sane man." He is killed in a freak accident, but the Board of Shadowy Figures doesn't want to get sued by his parents, so they clone him back to life afterwhich he finally fits in before moving away and never being seen again.

Clone High is an F school, last in the nation, so nobody graduates and nobody gets accepted into college; everyone is held back indefinitely, and they make jokes about how all the high school atudents look like they're in their 20s and 30s (take that, CW)

[indiee19]

D Is For Delightful

Alex Turner x reader

summary: On your anniversary (Early TBHC!) Alex takes you on a romantic date, and things get heated by the end of the night.

warnings: smut, fingering, stupid cliché shit

word count: 2.5k

a/n: expect a lot more goatee Alex content in the future because he's just so fucking hot

✿✼:*ﾟ:༅｡.｡༅:*･ﾟﾟ･⭑ ✿✼:*ﾟ:༅｡.｡༅:*･ﾟﾟ･⭑

You checked yourself in the mirror one last time before you decided to head downstairs. As you got downstairs, you saw Alex sitting on the sofa, scrolling on his phone, squinting a little as he got a text from Matt about the new album and Alex read it slightly aloud, barely above a whisper.

He typed a response as quick as he could, which wasn't very quick at all, and then he put his phone in his pocket then he noticed you and he stood up. "'ey, love. Um, wow, you look ... amazing," Alex said, walking over to you and giving you a chaste kiss on  the cheek.

"Thank you, Alex. You look handsome," you said. Alex blushed even though he was normally the one who made you blush, not the other way around.

"Well, are you ready to go, love?" he asked. You nodded, quickly grabbing your heels and you put them on, then you both headed out the door, walking to the car.

The February air was cool and brisk and it danced across your legs as you had worn a dress and you shivered. "You alright, love?" Alex asked as you both reached the car.

"Yeah, just a bit cold," you said, stepping into the car as Alex had opened the door for you and then he walked around to the opposite side and then he too got in and then he turned the car on and began to drive towards the restaurant.

You had been looking forward to this night for nearly a month, which was when Alex gad told you that he was taking you out for your anniversary, no care for if you or him had to do things. The only thing that he wanted to do tonight was celebrate yours and his fifth year dating and he wanted to make it special. Just like you had made those five years special for him.

Luckily, the drive wasn't that long and you, and Alex, were very happy about that, already excited to see what he had planned for you both because he told you that he had a very special surprise for you at the end of dinner.

Alex turned into the parking lot and parked the car. You and him unbuckled your seatbelts and got out of the car. He walked over to you and grabbed your hand and kissed your temple. "You ready, me love?" Alex asked.

"Yeah. Lead the way, handsome," you smiled. Alex chuckled and you two began to walk inside of the restaurant and up to the podium where a waitress was standing.

"Hello there, how can I help you two today?" she asked.

"Uh, we 'ave a reservation for Turner," Alex said. The waitress looked through the book that was on the podium before she found the name. "Table for two, correct?" she asked him. Alex nodded and she took two menus and began to lead you two to the table that was almost completely secluded from the rest of the tables. The waitress laid down the menus and you and Alex sat down. "Someone will be with you in just a moment to take your order," the waitress said and then she walked away.

You picked up the menu and began to look at it. "You look so pretty, love," Alex said, watching you as you looked over the menu. "Thank you, Al," you said, looking up at him from your menu and you set your right hand on the table. Alex grabbed your hand and gave it a chaste kiss, his beard lightly scratching at your skin.

Soon enough, another lady came to take your orders, which you both gave to her and she walked away towards the kitchen. It was about five minutes before the same waitress came back with a bottle of red wine that Alex had ordered beforehand and two glasses and she poured the wine into them and then walked away again, leaving the bottle of wine with you two. Alex picked up his glass, smiling at you. "Well, shall we toast, me love?" he asked, raising  up his eyebrow.

"Yes we shall, Al," you smiled and you both raised up your glasses.

"To us. 'appy five year anniversary to the most beautiful, smart, kind, amazing girlfriend I could've ever asked for," Alex said.

"To us," you said, your glasses clinging together and then you both took a sip of the wine. "I love you, Alex," you added.

The past five years that you and him had spent together were some of the best years that you'd ever had, and you wouldn't have wanted it to be any different. He'd made you feel like the most special girl in the world, made you feel loved and adored, and not to mention the fact that he was there for you Through thick and thin he was always there in your corner to always make sure that you were okay.

"I love you more than you could ever imagine," Alex muttered under his breath, taking another sip of his wine as did you. Alex once again reached over the table to grab your hand and his thumb soothingly rubbed over your knuckle. "What're you doing, Al?" you laughed.

"I don't know, just like to be touching you at all times," he said and you smiled, moving your hand to hold his. His lips pulled into an adorable, cute smile. "You're actually like a puppy," you joked, laughing a bit more whenever he playfully pouted.

Stuff like this happened until your food arrived and you started eating it, stealing a little of Alex's food occasionally, and he stole some of yours when you were looking away.

It didn't take very long for you to finish your food as you were quite hungry, Alex on the other hand though took much longer than you had expected, taking what felt like forever for him to chew the smallest amount of food which was abnormal for him because he would always eat much faster than you, so you wondered why he was taking forever.

As you were waiting for Alex to finish with his salad and his steak, the waitress came back by and handed you a menu for dessert and you started to look over it. "Al ... do you want any dessert?" you asked. He took another bite of his steak and took a sip of his wine before he looked up at you. "Depends on what there is," he said, looking at you looking at the menu.

"Well, what would you like? I'm sure that they'll have it," you said, not yet looking up at him.

"Umm, chocolate cake, cherry cheesecake ... uh, you," he said, muttering the last part under his breath.

"Sorry, what was that, I didn't catch the last part?" you asked, finally looking up from the menu.

"Oh, nothing, nothing," he answered quickly before he started naming off more desserts that he liked, stopping in between each dessert to take a bite of his food. And then finally, after what felt like ten hours, which was actually forty-five minutes, he was done naming off foods and done eating his salad and steak. "Well, Al, it seems that they have all of those desserts, so which one do you want?" you asked. He took a moment to think before answering your question. "Um, I'll 'ave whatever you're having," he said,  scratching over his coppery goatee, that was actually long enough to be a beard in your mind, that he had started to grow near the end of 2016 and you were very, very glad that he did. He just made it look so damn hot.

"Okay then," you said, telling him what you were going to have for dessert and he nodded. You and him patiently waited for the waitress to come back, and soon enough, she did and Alex ordered for the both of you. The waitress walked away again and you and Alex started up another conversation.

"So, Alex, what else do you have planned for tonight?" you asked, taking a long sip from your wine glass.

"You'll just have to wait and see, me love," he answered. You leaned forward, resting your head on your hands that were propped up by your elbows. "Oh, come on, give me a little hint," you said. "Please, Alex."

"No, me love, I can't tell you just yet, but I promise, you'll love it," he said. Your dessert was then brought out and you quickly dug into it, Alex did the same as well and it wasn't long until you were both finished with it, Alex finishing his before you. "Well, love, I don't think that I can eat anymore, you?" Alex stated.

"Yeah, I'm pretty full too," you replied, asking for the bill. Alex got out his wallet and paid with cash, leaving a generous tip and then you and him left, walking to the car and you both got in, Alex starting the car, beginning to drive back to yours and his house.

You turned your head and looked him up and down, licking your lips, couldn't keep your eyes off of him, and you assumed that it was because of the wine that you had drank whenever you placed your hand on his thigh, rubbing it up and down, inching closer and closer to his crotch. "What're you doing, love?" Alex asked, grabbing your hand, placing it in your lap.

"I wasn't doing anything, Alex," you said, placing your hand back on his thigh much closer to his crotch than before though.

"Love, if you keep doing that, you know it won't end well for you," he said nonchalantly, speeding up the car.

"What're you going to do?" you asked, your hand moving to cup the bulge that was now forming in his pants and he groaned in response. He was now desperate to get home, so quickly too. Thankfully, the house was just one turn away. "You're going to get it when we get home, love," he said matter-of-factly.

You arrived at the house and Alex quickly got out and you followed, rushing inside the house and once you were inside, he already had you pushed up against the wall, kissing you deeply, his tongue fighting yours into submission with ease, though he soon began to move his kisses down your neck, suckling and biting on your sweet spot, eliciting a loud moan from you and your hands quickly found their way into his hair, tugging hardly on it.

You felt Alex hard against your thigh as he started to grind onto you and one of your hands left his hair to palm him over the fabric of his pants. "You're eager," you managed to choke out, moaning whenever he nudged your thighs apart and began to rub your folds through the fabric of your underwear, feeling how wet you already were for him.

"S-So are you, love, so fucking wet for me," he said, moving your underwear to the side, running his fingers through your folds, spreading you arousal around before he moved them down to your entrance, pushing two of his fingers inside you.

"Oh, fuck," you said, voice trailing off into a moan when he started to move them in and out of you at a quick pace and you started to grind onto his hand, craving more friction, feeling your orgasm approach very quickly, quicker than you would've expected.

"A-Alex, I'm close," you breathed out, you were so damn close so damn fast. His thumb quickly found your clit and began to rub circles on it.

"Let go for me, love," he said, pushing his fingers deep inside you, curling them at the same time, tipping you over the edge, the waves of pleasure washing over you tugging harshly on his hair, moaning loudly.

You came down and Alex finally looked back up at you. "What do you want, me love?" he asked you, brushing a few strands of hair out of your face.

"Fuck me."

He lifted up your thigh, signaling for you to jump and you did, Alex carrying you to the bedroom, setting you down on the bed and you sat up slightly to lift your dress up and over your head, discarding it to the side and you watched as he shuffled out of his own clothes and you quickly pulled down your underwear and removed your bra as Alex shuffled out of his boxers, crawling back over you.

He nudged your thighs apart, giving himself a few tugs before he aligned his cock up with your entrance, pushing in, bottoming out in two pushes, giving you time to adjust to his size before he began to move, setting a pace that gradually got faster.

You instinctively closed your eyes, reveling in the feeling of his cock stroking your walls, hitting the spot that made you see stars and you gripped onto his biceps that were holding him up above you, and then, he stopped moving and you opened your eyes quickly.

"You look at me while I'm fucking you, okay?" he said and you nodded; Alex started to move again, faster though and you were already struggling to keep your eyes open.

A knot soon formed in your stomach and you felt your second orgasm approaching so damn fast again. "I-I'm close, Alex," you breathed out.

"Hold on, me love," he said, his hand coming in between your bodies to rub harshly on your clit, flicking it at the same time as his cock hit the spot that made you see stars once again and you shook, pleasure washing over you completely. The feeling of your walls contracting around his cock was just enough to send Alex over the edge too, his movements stilling as you felt his cock twitch and his hot release coat your walls, collapsing on top of you.

You both reveled and the afterglow of your orgasms, panting heavily, and Alex sighed before he pulled out of you, laying down beside you. "Oh, shit," he breathed out.

"What, Al?" you asked, turning on your side to cuddle up to him.

"I-I were going to ask you something, but now it's just going to be less romantic," he said.

"Well, you can still ask me, Al," you said, kissing his collarbone lightly.

"Okay, stay here," he said, getting up and he put on a fresh pair of boxers and he left the room. You were confused for a moment until he came back with a black velvet box and he kneeled in the floor beside you and you sat up, using the comforter to cover yourself up.

"Well, like I said, it's not as romantic as I'd like it to be, but who cares. But, um, w-will you marry me?" he asked, opening the box to show a beautifully cut diamond ring.

"Y-Yes, Alex, yes!" you squealed, grabbing his face and kissing him deeply. Alex took your ring finger and slid it on. "'appy, anniversary, me love," he muttered before climbing back into bed with you.