#who are you nick i need to know more. but he’s just one of several that i’ve googled or attempted to google

[sassenashsworld]

Hancock at Diamond City

(this one is not .... that canonical... I couldn't help...)

The List

John just can’t believe it. He cannot believe that his brother, whose blood and flesh he shares, is capable of such an abomination. But now this bastard is smiling at him with a carnal expression.

It’s too much for him. John can no longer bear the thought of being in the same room as him. Let this bastard have his damned town hall. John prefers to go back down to the ground of the city with the common people.

But as the elevator platform descends to the floor of the cows, all the horror of what is happening spreads out at his sight.

“Motherfuckers! They don’t even give people time!”

The guards of Diamond City, and probably several mercenaries hired for the occasion, are already seizing ghouls’ citizens of Diamond City. The Great Exile demanded by the electors is already beginning.

John wants to vomit.

The young man can’t believe what he’s seeing.

The people he has known for his entire life are being dragged out of their homes like trash, treated like criminals. They’re mostly old, and scared, and lost. Some of them have been here even before John's parents. He played with some of them as a child.

Two guards, holding Mister Carter by the arms, drag him away. He manages to turn around and look at John for a moment, his eyes wide and full of despair.

“Help us, Young McDonough, please!” the poor man exclaims, his voice quivering.

John’s heart clenches, and his eyes suddenly fill with tears at the sight. He struggles to keep his voice steady.

“Hang in there, Mr. Carter,” he says, trying to sound reassuring. “Just hang in there...”

Mister Carter tries to protest and resist, but the security guards drag him away without mercy. Some of the other ghouls in line watch this scene, desperation and terror etched on their faces.

In the chaos of the crowd, John sees a figure among the others. He has always relied on this figure as a beacon in the gloomy night, where his twisted mind can occasionally guide him. He leaps off and charges towards Nick Valentine, who is leaning his back against a wall and watching the guards drag the crowd with disapproving gazes.

Nick sees John running toward him from a distance; the expression on his face is enough to tell what’s going on in his mind. He knows the young McDonough too well; he knows that if he’s here, it’s to seek trouble.

“John,” he says as the man joins him.

“What the hell are you waiting for? Why don’t you do anything?”

The detective simply grabs the cigarette packet from the inside pocket of his coat and nods sadly. He’s giving the young boy a look in the corner.

“What the heck ya mean, exactly?”

John falls silent for a moment, staring at Nick with an almost outraged expression. He knows the detective can’t really change what is happening, but he wants to deny it desperately.

“Come on, Nick,” he stutters, his voice filled with frustration and anger. “There's got to be somethin’ we can do. This is madness!”

“This is nuts,” says the detective, lighting a cigarette. “The worst I’ve ever seen... for ages.” The poor synth shakes his head once more, then hands over his cigarette pack to John. “But there ain't nothin' we can do.”

John feels his anger coalesce into a ball of fury. He violently strikes the package that his friend has offered, causing it to drop on the ground.

“HOW DARE YOU? Those people need someone to stand and protect them!”

Nick remains passive, facing the outburst.

“What do ya want me to do? You think I can just shut down this whole town, huh? These folks don’t want them ghouls hangin’ around. I know it real good... They ain't lookin' for no synth neither. There ain't nothin' I can—

“No! I can’t buy it...” John interrupts, feeling a rage growing in his gut, ready to explode like a bomb. “We gotta do something!”

“We just can’t...” Nick sighed again sadly. “Unless we wanna end up in the same boat. We can't go against what the folks want, ya know? When ya gonna get it?”

“Never!” screams John, completely revolted.

He sees another well-liked and respected citizen.

“Mister Rodriguez!”

“No, John,” the old man stopped him before John said more. “I know what you think. We all think that. However, I have a wife and a son, so please understand.

The words of the old man hit John like a slap in the face. He stares at him, trying to find a hint of hope, a way out of the situation.

“But... but they can’t do this,” the boy stammers, still incredulous, as if he didn’t believe what was happening. “They can’t throw them out of their house like a sack of potatoes. They lived here all their life...”

Nick steps forward and puts his hand on John’s shoulder.

“We can't do nothin'—just nothin' at all. Otherwise, we woulda done it already, trust me.”

Mr. Rodriguez bows his head in shame, turning his back to the long line of ghouls that are escorted outside the city walls.

John stares in disbelief. Every fiber of his being screams at him to fight—to fight with nails and teeth. But there is that look in Nick’s eyes—that resigned look—that kills the last spark of hope in him. Because if even a rightful man as his mentor doesn’t bulge for the ghouls...

No! No, John can’t just look. He suddenly rushes to the nearest guard.

“John! NO!” Nick tries to dissuade him, but the stubborn young man doesn't stop for a moment in his crazy run. He hits the guard with full force, causing him to lose his balance and verbally protest.

“Hey!”

Another guard grabs John by the collar and puts him back on his feet.

“Easy, young McDonough. Don’t embarrass your brother.”

The other guard stands up in turn, glaring at him.

“You should go home. It’ll be over soon, don’t worry.”

John struggles against the guard's grip, trying to get free to lunge at them again.

“Let go of me! I hate you, you scumbag!" he screams, consumed by madness.

Nick runs into the fray and tries to get John to come back to his senses.

“Knock it off, for God's sake! Stop it!”

But John’s eyes are filled with anger. He doesn't hear the detective's words. All he can see are those guards forcing the poor old ghouls out of their homes.

“I hate you, you sons of bitches, damn you!” he continues to yell, trying to break free again.

Nick frees him from the guard's grasp and grabs him by the shoulders.

“You gotta listen to me. Listen up! Look at me, will ya?”

John stops fighting for a moment. He looks at Nick, his mind overwhelmed by anger.

“What?!” He replies, panting and clenching his teeth.

“Take it easy!” the detective begs. “Ya get what I'm sayin'? Take it easy, now. I get about it all, but if ya keep goin' like this...”

John's heart continues to beat fast, but his mind is starting to clear. He sees the guards watching him cautiously. But he doesn’t care. He knows Nick is right, but his anger continues to make his head boil.

“I…” John tries to control his breathing, still caught in a wave of rage. “I can’t...”

Nick nods, understanding.

“I get it... but ya gotta chill out, alright?”

He squeezes his shoulders, trying to ease his friend's anger.

“No, I can’t!” suddenly exclaims John. “I can’t stand still! I can’t accept!”

One of the guards approaches them, his hands clasped around his pistol. Nick notices and pulls John back. Not that he thinks they would dare to hurt the young brother of the mayor, but in this chaos, who knows?

“Easy, John…”

John looks at the guards, his heart pounding and his breath quickening again.

"Easy, my ass!" he exclaims, still fuming. “These guys are forcing people out of their homes! And you tell me to not do anything? They are people; they are!”

Nick tries to put himself in front of John and block his path, but the young man starts to push past him.

“Don’t be a knucklehead. Ya want 'em to shoot ya?”

“I don’t care!” the boy replies, already thinking about hitting the guard nearby again.

Nick knows he can’t stop him. If John wants to act like a madman, it’s just a matter of time before a tragedy occurs.

But all of a sudden, an authoritative voice intervenes.

A voice that John knows well.

“What’s going on here?”

John freezes and looks in the direction of the voice.

Standing a few steps away is his older brother, the Mayor McDonough.

“Brother,” John manages to say, still panting from the anger.

The mayor, however, isn't here to talk with his little brother. He doesn't even look at him. He just looks at the guards and then turns his icy gaze to Nick.

“Good evening, Mister Valentine,” he says in his formal, detached tone, looking at the synth as if he were a particularly unpleasant smell. But Nick doesn’t flinch. He knows the man too well.

“Mayor,” the detective answers in a calm tone. John, on the other hand, looks back and forth between his brother and the synthetic man, sensing that the situation is tensing.

The mayor smiles, revealing his teeth like a wolf about to pounce.

"I imagine you're concerned about the events of the day, given that you're not a full material of Diamond City yourself, right?" he asks, almost mockingly. 

Nick raises an eyebrow. He clearly didn’t expect this kind of jab from the mayor. He looks at him for a few moments before responding.

“You got a point,” he replies, his voice still calm.

The young McDonough watches silently, still seething.

The mayor continues to glare at Nick for a few more moments, as if expecting him to flinch. Seeing that the synth remains stoic and unperturbed, he decides to turn his attention to John.

“And what about you,” he says, looking at his brother with a hint of annoyance in his eyes. "Why are you making such a fuss?"

The younger McDonough grits his teeth but remains silent. He looks at Nick for a moment, and the detective gives him a look that says, "Let me take care of it."

The older man stares at his brother.

“Don’t you have something better to do? Go somewhere else and hang out with the drifters like the loser you are or find some whore to blow off some steam.”

John’s anger begins to rise again, but Nick steps in before he does anything stupid.

“He’s just concerned about the... events, that’s all.”

The mayor looks at the synth, the ghost of a smile on his lips.

“Of course he is. He has always been so... emotional.” He stares at his young brother for another moment before speaking again. “And what exactly is he so concerned about, pray tell?”

John can’t hold back for long.

“You know damn well what I’m concerned ab—

Nick grabs his arm, stopping him from getting closer to his brother. John looks at him with furious eyes, but the detective shakes his head discreetly.

The mayor looks at John with a sardonic smile, clearly enjoying the situation.

“Yes? Tell me then, little brother. What’s bothering you so much?”

John is shaking with anger, his fists clenched so tightly that his knuckles are turning white. He wants to punch this bastard so bad that it hurts. But Nick keeps his hand on his shoulder, holding him firmly in place.

The mayor continues to wait for an answer. He's clearly enjoying the sight of his brother struggling to control his anger. Nick, however, notices the guards on the side starting to get restless. They’re starting to worry about the situation.

But John sees red. The mere mockery in his brother’s voice drives him to the edge.

“Damn you,” he growls, trying to rip his arm free from Nick’s grasp. “Damn you, you hypocrite!”

The mayor’s smile widens.

“I'm a hypocrite, am I?” he replies, taking on a falsely hurt tone. “Don’t you think you’re taking it a bit too seriously, little brother? I'm just performing a little civic duty for the good of the city.”

John can no longer contain himself and tries more than ever to shake off Nick's hand, his eyes fixed on the face he now despises.

“You’re not fooling anyone,” he growls. “You don’t care about the city; you only care about yourself! You’re nothing more than a selfish, opportunistic bastard!”

The other man lets out a mocking laugh.

“Opportunistic? I prefer the term prudent.” He steps closer to John, their faces almost touching. “And it seems to me that I'm doing something much more useful and productive than you, brother.”

John feels like he could explode at any moment.

“Doing something useful?” he retorts, his voice filled with rage. “You're kicking innocent people out of their homes, throwing them into the Wastes, and you call it useful? You call it productive?”

John's chest heaves with fury, wanting to bite his brother's face. The mayor continues to smile, seemingly unperturbed by the youth reaction.

"Oh, come on," he says in a theatrical tone. “Ghouls. Innocent. Isn't that a bit of an oxymoron? They're ghouls, brother. They don't deserve any better than living out there, in the wasteland, among their own kind. That's just the way things are.”

John suddenly stops struggling in Nick’s hands, and the synth feels it very, very badly. The boy then raises his voice, his expression so white that it appears to be almost devoid of emotion.

“You’re right about one thing, brother. I’m better with drifters and those who are not like you. Anywhere, away from you and your kind.” He suddenly leaps out of the grip of Nick, who fails to catch him this time. “Never, do you hear me? I will NEVER SET FOOT IN THIS CITY AGAIN!”

The mayor smiles at John, clearly enjoying the spectacle.

“Suit yourself,” he replies, feigning indifference. “And don’t bother coming back, either. This city doesn't need people like you, and we certainly don’t need your... dubious associates.”

Nick throws the man a glance, feeling very well the treat, but stays silent, a grim look on his face.

John doesn’t cast a shadow of a glance over his shoulder as he moves forward with a determined step toward the line of ghouls that continues to be taken out of the city.

The mayor watches him go with a sardonic smile, like a snake ready to strike again.

“Good riddance,” he comments with satisfaction.

Nick, filled with worry, follows John, wishing he could stop him and talk some sense into him.

“John, hold up a sec...”

But John ignores him. His eyes are fixated on the line of ghouls, many of whom are too weakened to walk and are being dragged by the security guards.

There is nothing beyond that point that could change John’s mind.

His time in Diamond City is over.

His life as John McDonough, the younger brother of Guy McDonough, has come to an end.

Never again.

The Great Green Jewel will never again see his face.

[mildmayfoxe]

“the person packing your order/ringing you out at the register doesn’t care what you’re getting” false. i care desperately. and as a rampantly curious person if you order enough interesting stuff/have a cool enough name/include your business in your shipping address i AM also looking you up

[sexiestpodcastcharacter]

Sexiest Podcast Character — Unscripted Bracket — Round 4

Propaganda

Glenn Close (Dungeons & Daddies):

#Propaganda for Glenn Close: one of the other PCs mentions multiple times how hot he is #Actually several characters point it out but especially Henry #Also the only person in a podcast that has to put a disclaimer about not being a BDSM podcast to have had sex during the course of the show

We didn’t do hot Glenn summer for him to LOSE. Spoilers for his story but MORE PROPAGANDA FOR YOU:

Young hot rocker dilf

Loyal to his dead wife <3

Does in fact smoke weed

BARD!! HES A BARD. HE WAS LEAD GUITAR IN HIS BAND (that he was kicked out of)

His band was a Christmas cover band btw.

Literally the fandom had hot Glenn summer which consisted of drawing him being incredibly hot and sexy

Anti government (ofc)

Kind of cringefail (Disney adult) (was on dilfs of disneyland)

Young and sexy not your style? Then how about HIM AFTER YEARS LOCKED IN A TIME PRISON WITH A DAMN HANNIBAL MASK ??

Lost an eye and wears a fucking eyepatch

One incredibly buff arm

Has a pet rat named after his son <3

Immeasurable amounts of trauma in this man- becomes progressively more unhinged

OH OLD HUMAN BARD ISNT CUTTING IT? FINE

HE BECOMES A FUCKING DEMON

A COOL HOT ONE-EYED DEMON WHO WANTS TO KILL HIS DAD (also sexy)

HE CANONICALLY ENDS CHRISTIAN HELL VIA CHRISTMAS

IS ALSO WAY OVERLEVELED

Becomes a demon hunter for the rest of his existence

Also nonwhite !!! We are done with cringefail whiteboys !!!!!!!!!

I can’t put into words ok just know he is the best plz love him.

Listen, I don't know this other character but I've seem some good arguments for her However Consider Glenn Close winning through no effort of his own in a bullshit way despite being a dick is the most in character thing ever. He leveled up three times and got a crab mech, we GOT to give him this win, it's fitting

I don’t regulate if minors follow me or not bc I’m a pretty chill space but I hope the world is aware that’s the only reason I haven’t been downright nasty about Glenn close. I’m down bad. I’m NOT in the boat of ‘Glenn isn’t sexy but I want him to win bc it’s my fandom’. I would estimate I have 200+ drawings of Glenn on my phone that AREN’T safe for work. Way more that are. Where did they come from? That’s MY business. But I tell you this fact to assure you- Glenn IS sexy. I’m not voting to represent my fandom I’m voting out of TRUTH AND LOVE. IF YOU DON’T GET IT YOU DON’T GET IT!!! I just think my level of feral over this man is more powerful than y’all realize. If you don’t get his sex appeal that’s okay, but don’t doubt that this is my truth.

Okay but Glenn made a minivan cum by talking to her so

HE HAS A BOOK THAT HE MARKS X’S AND CHECKS FOR EVERY DAY TO SEE IF THAT DAY WAS A SUCCESS OR NOT. TO SEE IF HE DID GOOD THAT DAY. ITS ALMOST ENTIRELY X’S. HE WAS CUCKED OUT OF A SON. AND A DEAD WIFE. HE DIDN’T EVEN GET TO KILL HIS DAD IN REVENGE. There’s absolutely nothing going for him except his sex appeal in his life. Nobody he loved remembers him. He lost his eye. All he has is a pet rat and friends who admit they don’t really like him that much. He was kicked out of his own band. The band was named after him. He was kicked out of the Glenn Close trio. All he could do was deez nuts the big bad and be sexy. If nothing else, then pity him. Look in his eyes. Look at his heart and soul. Do you think pickman needs this to feel good about herself? Can she not accept a loss for the sake of a pathetic father? Can she shake hands with the minivan fucker and his human gun and just take the L on this one? He did not do the BDSM episode for this I’ll tell you what. Do this for my his sake. Do it for Nick Jr, who needs the prize money to pay for his rat snacks. Do it for his son. For Morgan. Ganbatte.

Mod Note: While I will still take "bad dads are sexy" propaganda and "bad dads aren't sexy" anti-propaganda, I kindly request no more discussion on whether or not he was a bad father. This is a sexypoll, not a parentingpoll. If you see a post you strongly disagree with, you can just not reblog it.

Mod Note 2: This tournament is about fictional podcast characters. Please do not vote for the real actress Glenn Close.

Lup (The Adventure Zone: Balance):

Is somehow the hot twin between her and Taako

Lup Bluejeans (née... Taaco? Tacco? Taco? Tako? who tf knows this is why I'm going with her husband's last name. doylistly she gets her last name from her brother whose last name is given as "Taako again but spelled differently"): Hot, funny, smart and undead. Is there anything else you could want in a woman?? Well, in case there is: she's also canonically trans

LUP IS THE HOTTEST. VOTE LUP.

[masonmontz]

hey hey hey, hope you like :) 

REMEMBER: english is not my first language

word count: 1k  jealous!mason (if you feel uncomfortable, it's not for you)

NICK JONAS - JEALOUS

✦‎۟    ࣭   ⊹

Mason snorted when he saw another story on your Instagram having fun with your girls. It was already the fifth photo you posted and Mason thought you were posting a lot in just one night.

Not because he's jealous, of course not.

Except he is.

It's your friend Grace's bachelorette party, and she took all her friends to a club in Manchester. Mason almost died when he saw you leave the house with huge high heels, a shorter dress than usual and wonderful makeup. He really tried to convince you to change your clothes, but it was in vain.

You just gave him a kiss and left, leaving Mason crawling behind you. Mason was jealous and hated when you went out without him, just because he knows how much other guys try their luck with you. But he doesn't mind you going out with your friends, he just stays at home bored until you arrive.

But that night Rasmus invited some players to his house for a game night, so Mason agreed since you were out too. Mason had been there for a while, but the whole time he was checking his phone to see your new stories, or to check if you had responded to his messages. 

“What’s wrong Mason? You haven't stopped looking at your phone since you arrived.” Onana asked, as once again he saw Mason snort into his cell phone. 

“Nothing.” Mason sighed. “Y/N went out with her friends to a club.”

“And what’s wrong with that?” John asked. 

“Bro, he’s jealous.” Onana answered, laughing at Mason’s face. 

“I am, okay? There’s nothing wrong with being jealous of my girlfriend.” Mason snorted when he saw his friends laughing at him. “Her dress was too short.”

They laughed harder at Mason, but he wasn't finding it funny at all, not when he knew that several men had probably already tried to talk to you. But he didn't respond to them and picked up his cell phone again, looking for your friend's Instagram account to see if she had posted anything else, as you weren't responding to his messages.

Mason's heart stopped when he saw the video she posted, where you were dancing and there was a man behind, you weren't paying attention to him, but he didn't take his eyes off you and Mason got irritated.

Even though he knows you love him, Mason can't help the thoughts. Mason doesn't like the way he's looking at you. Is he crazy for being jealous of someone you aren't even paying attention to? 

Mason's face turns red, wanting more than anything to go up to you and kiss you, pushing away any man nearby. Perhaps he is a little obsessed with you. Mason also knows it's not your fault they hover, but if they looked at your finger, they'd see the ring. The same ring that was on Mason's finger.

The red and very short dress made you look amazing, Mason almost drooled when he saw you, but he remembered that that appearance wasn't for him. Mason just wanted to throw you on the bed and leave you there for hours while he did everything to you, just because you looked perfect.

“That's it, I'm going there.” Mason got up five minutes later when he saw another video and the same guy was talking to you. “Thanks Rasmus for the invite, but I'm going to get my girl.”

“You're so stupid, let her have fun Mason.” Bruno spoke, but Mason ignored him and took the car keys.

“I can’t, I’m sorry.” He responded and left.

✦‎۟    ࣭   ⊹

The place was full of people and Mason almost regretted going there. Almost. 

It took him a few minutes to find you and he had to convince the security guard that he was just there to pick up his girlfriend. Maybe he offered a ticket to a Man U game and took the security guard's phone. That worked.

The music was loud and some people started to recognize Mason, but he tried to be nice by denying some photos. Mason hated not talking to anyone who got to him, but now he needed to get to you.

When Mason found you, you were laughing with Thalia, your friend, as you held a drink in your hands. The same guy from the videos was nearby and still staring at you, but he had two other friends with him and they seemed like wolves around you and your friends. Mason rolled his eyes. Not that he needed to tell anyone, but Mason puffed out his chest as he started walking towards you.

You saw him a few seconds later, so you didn't hear what Thalia was saying anymore. You raised your eyebrows when you saw Mason approaching with an angry look and a red face. Thalia saw him and left, walking towards the other girls.

“What are you doing here?” You asked, placing your hand on your waist and looking at him seriously. 

“I missed you, babe.” He smiled at you, then he held you and pulled you into a kiss, placing his hand possessively on your waist, you couldn’t even move.

“Mason, I’m being serious.” You said, slowly pushing him to face him. 

“I saw your Instagram and I didn't like that asshole back there keeping an eye on you.” Mason admitted with shame. “I needed to show him that you have one man and don't need another.”

“Yes, and you know I can say this myself.” You said it angrily, but you always liked it when Mason showed jealousy. “You shouldn't be here, it's a party for the girls.”

“So we need to get them out of here so I can leave too.” Mason looked back and stared at the three men, who even seemed a little shocked, probably recognizing Mason. He gave them a fake smile, then whispered in your ear, giving you goosebumps. “But I would like you to come with me, I want to take that dress off you.” 

“Don’t do that.” You almost moaned when Mason ran his hands down your bare back on purpose, and then squeezed your thigh in the middle of everyone. 

“It's my right to be hellish. You look so sexy and beautiful and every man here is looking at you, everyone wants a taste.” You placed your hands on his shoulders, closing your eyes as Mason kissed your cheek. “I still get jealous, even though I know you're just mine.”

“You are so possessive, Mason Mount.”

“I'm possessive and I'm not ashamed to admit it. You know I get excited when you get jealous too.”

Mason gave you a mischievous smile, so you smiled at him and looked back, seeing the man who had been trying to get to you the entire night had disappeared after Mason arrived. 

“Let’s go home. Only bought this dress so you could take it off”

[daddyslilchickenfingers2]

Kinktober (reuploaded)

Thigh Riding (Matt)

Request: None

Warnings: Sub Matt, short, besties to lovers, clingy/needy Matt, subspace, whining, begging, just overall super submissive Matt, kind of anxiety subspace

Y/n’s pov

These last two weeks I have been super busy with work, and Matt who’s used to having my attention 90% of the day, is feeling neglected. I’m not doing it on purpose, I’m letting him sit in my room with me during my meetings or playing with his hair while I’m on a phone call but that’s not enough. I’ve even started editing in Matt’s room so I could spend more time with him. Matt’s my best friend, he just so happens to be super clingy towards me, now that Chris has a girlfriend. He also suffers from severe anxiety so sometimes he falls into a subspace and gets super clingy like a toddler to their mother.

Marylou had told me that Matt’s been like that his whole life, his brain just scrambles. He needs to be told what to do and praised or else he gets really sad/anxious and starts to cry. Knowing this is why I try to spend as much time with him as possible when he’s in his subspace. Today was a bit different though, as Matt openly admitted to everyone this morning that he was feeling ‘submissive and horny’ without a warning. Chris and I laughed while Nick just sat there uncomfortably until they finished their breakfast and both brothers left for the day.

Matt was really needy today, constantly wanting my attention and following my every move. He said he was tired so I went up to his room with him to edit some pictures and thumbnails while he slept. That was short-lived though, as 5 minutes later, Matt was asking to sit on my lap. This was new, but nonetheless, I agreed, letting him sit on my lap while I worked until he got uncomfortable and shifted to one of my thighs. This position was a bit awkward considering he was only wearing boxers and a tshirt, I was wearing the same but I had shorts instead of boxers.

I moved my leg under him and Matt let out a loud gasp that I just ignored until he experimentally moved his hips forward. “Matt, what are you doing?” I questioned, he let out a whimper as he rolled his hips forward again. “C-Can you have sex with me?” he asked, I was shocked to say the least. It’s not that I didn’t want to have sex with Matt, because quite frankly I did. It’s that I’m busy and he’s not in the right headspace, I’m not going to take advantage of that now that he finally trusts me enough to be as vulnerable with me as he is to his mom and Chris.

I thought of a way to let him down gently so he wouldn’t cry, “I’m sorry Matty, I can’t. I’m really busy today, how about I leave for a little bit and you can jack off?” I said softly. I gauged his face for any signs of sadness but he was more so upset. He was still essentially grinding on my thigh in a way while whining because I said no. “Bu-But please?” he tried again, “Not today baby, I’m sorry” I said to him again, “Can I- Uh can I-“ he started.

“Can you what? You gotta use your words” “Can I ride your thigh? Please?” he begged, shoving his hand into his boxers and readjusting his cock. I figured there’s no harm in letting him use my thigh, as long as we’re both clothed, it should be fine. Sighing, I clicked save on my laptop and stood up, picking Matt up and putting him on his bed. He looked at me with wide eyes, “A-Am I in trouble?” he asked nervously, “No, I’d just rather sit on your bed, c’mon you can ride my thigh if you keep your clothes on” I explained.

He excitedly got back on my thigh, fixing his cock so the head was pressed right against my thigh, taking on a lot of his body weight as well so there was more pressure on it. He started moving his hips, whining at the new feeling he’d discovered. “Touch me?” he asked, I cupped his face and lightly stroked his jaw. “I’m sorry Matty, I can’t do that” I said softly causing Matt to loudly whine. “Just to help me move. Pleeeaase?” he dragged out.

I gave in, agreeing that I would hold onto his hips or waist to help him move faster. I could feel Matt’s dick rubbing on my thigh and not gonna lie, it turned me on. Matt had his hands on his thighs as he essentially humped my thigh, “Fuck! This feels so good! Wish you would touch me Y/n/n, so badly” he moaned out. “I know Matty, I’m sorry. You’re doing so well by yourself though” I praised him. He started to move faster, swiveling his hips a few times and moaning.

Matt must be really sensitive because he was already whimpering and acting like he was close. “Are you gonna cum Matt?” I asked seductively, “Y-Yes, s-so close, can I cum in my pants? Is that okay?” he inquired, breathlessly. “Go ahead baby” I said and Matt started moving faster. He moved his arms to my shoulders and hid his face in my neck, moaning at the pleasure. Matt’s hips sputtered and he moaned loudly in my ear as he came, a lot of his cum ended up leaking through his boxers and onto my thigh but I didn’t mind. I started rubbing Matt’s back while he came down from his high, panting in my ear and holding onto my shoulders tightly.

“Do you feel better now Matty?” I asked him softly, only getting a simple hum back before he pulled away from my neck. He looked so fucked out and I didn’t even do anything to him, Matt got off my thigh and instantly frowned, “I made a mess” he pouted. It really wasn’t even that bad, he just needed to change his boxers and I needed to wipe my leg off but to him, it seemed very important. “It’s okay, I can get us cleaned up baby” I smiled down at him, and to my surprise, Matt leaned down and started licking his own cum off my thigh, it was pretty hot.

“Wha-“ I started but Matt was already done, “Was I a good boy?” he asked with pleading eyes, “Yes Matty, you were very good” I praised, making him smile widely. He made his way off the bed and quickly changed his boxers as I walked back over to his desk, but he stopped me by hugging me from behind. I turned around to properly hug him and kiss the top of his head, “Thank you” he smiled happily “You’re welcome handsome” I smiled back. Matt pulled away from the hug and went over to his bed, “I’m going to take a nap now, can you still stay in here please?” he asked while getting under the covers. “Yes, I’ll stay. Goodnight Matty” I replied, “Goodnight” he mumbled back, already falling asleep while I went back to my editing.

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[zepskies]

Smoke Eater - Part 18

Pairing: Firefighter!Dean Winchester x F. Reader 

Summary: Dean Winchester is the cocky, but well-respected Lieutenant at Firehouse 25. He leads by example, but he’s also known to break a few hearts. He’s starting to crave something he’s never had, though. Something stable. Something real. 

That’s when he meets you, on a truly terrible day, trapped in a rickety old elevator.

🔥 Series Masterlist

Word Count: 4,000 Tags/Warnings: Angst, fluff, brief mentions of the events of Part 13, some ADA Sam, Detective John, and a cliffhanger…

Part 18: “V for Vendetta”

After that first rocky month, Dean started to improve physically, and so did you emotionally, as he tried his best to let you help him when he needed it. 

In turn, you did your best to gauge his moods; when he truly did need help, and when it was best for you to just be his girlfriend, not his caretaker.

January rolled onwards, and the resulting winter cold snap brought a kind of calm before a storm. Nick Savage still hadn’t been found, but that didn’t mean your worries were over.

Dean knew that this would hang over all of your heads until both Nick and his father were caught and exposed.

Today Dean walked with Sam on his day off, doing a few laps around the neighborhood as part of Dean’s rehab. They knew a police car was stationed nearby, watching them for their safety. It was a bit unnerving, but necessary.

They were walking back into the building when Sam stopped to check the mail. The box for their unit was along the wall in the corridor with several other locked boxes. Sam unlocked theirs and pulled out a rolled-up newspaper, some coupons, and a stray folded note addressed to Dean. Sam’s brows furrowed.

“What’s that, a love note?” Dean asked dryly. He took it from Sam and unfolded the scrap of paper.

20579. Your badge will join your dad’s on the wall.

Both the Fire Department headquarters and the 84th Precinct had a wall to commemorate firefighters and officers who had given their lives in the line of duty. Each of their badges had their own display plaque hung on the respective walls.

In short, the note was a threat.

Sam’s worried frown deepened as he watched Dean’s good mood evaporate. He crumpled up the note and pocket it, before he met his younger brother’s eyes.

“Keep this between us,” he warned. As in, don’t tell you.

Sam shook his head. “Dad needs to know, at least. And you two need to be careful.” 

“That goes for you and Eileen too,” Dean replied. He reached for Sam’s shoulder and squeezed. “Don’t matter that you’re an ADA. Azazel goes after cops and their families. He’s gonna be gunning for an opportunity to get to one of us.”

Sam’s lips pressed together, but he acknowledged that with a nod.

They went back upstairs together, where you were dressed casually and gathering up your purse.

“Heading out somewhere?” Dean asked. Sam shot him a glance, which Dean silently answered with a short nod. He looked back at you when you offered him a smile.

“Yep, we need a few things. Milk, eggs, more Twizzlers, apparently,” you quipped, lightly smacking his stomach. Dean quirked a smile.

“Give me a sec. I’ll go with you,” he said.

You made an uncertain sound. “Didn’t you just get back from a walk? You sure you don’t just want to shower up and relax?”

“I’m good,” said Dean. He knew you didn’t like the idea of him overexerting himself, but he didn’t feel comfortable letting you go out alone. He could tell by the look Sam once again threw his way from the kitchen that he didn’t think it was a good idea either.

Dean slid a hand up your arm. “How about this. I’ll stay in the car. I just want some more fresh air.”

You tilted your head at him, but you conceded. He followed you to the door and held it open for you.

“Can I drive?” Dean hedged.

You chuckled. “Don’t push it, Lieutenant.”

On the way back from the grocery store, you discreetly eyed Dean’s profile. His knee was bouncing as he stared out the window.

Sometimes he checked the rearview mirror of your Camaro. Sometimes he fiddled with the radio or checked his phone.

It was all nervous behavior you took a catalogue of. By the time you pulled back into the parking lot of Dean’s apartment building, he finally seemed to relax a fraction. You parked the car and turned to him. 

“Okay, what’s the matter?” you asked.

Dean gave you a curious look, but there was an unmistakable tension in his demeanor.

“What do you mean?”

You tried your question a different way. “What’s got you all on edge?”

He didn’t seem to want to answer at first.

“Dean,” you prodded. “Does it have something to do with why you insisted on coming with me, even though I can see that you’re tired?”

His face tightened, but he reached over for your hand. Your fingers curled around his. Now you were getting worried.

“We’ve got the police watching us here, but anything could happen out there,” Dean said. “Until this blows over, I don’t think you should go out by yourself.”

Until this blows over. You wanted to ask when that would be, but you knew he wouldn’t be able to give you an answer.

“Zachariah called me this morning,” you admitted. “He’s standing in for Nick as CEO. He said I have a job waiting for me when I get off medical leave next week. Everyone’s been working from home since the fire, but we’d be going to a new building the company owns downtown.”

Dean tightened up, just like you knew he would. His eyes closed as his head tilted back against the headrest. He let out a long breath through his nose. You stayed quiet, both waiting for what he might say and preparing for him to get upset.

He surprised you by calmly looking over at you again.

“It’s not a good idea. If Nick’s still alive, it means his dad probably knows you know who he is,” he said. “And not for nothin’. Even with Nick out of there, that place’s probably been built on blood money.”

Both were fair points.

“I know. I’m going to find something else, as soon as you’re better,” you said. Dean shook his head and held your hand tighter.

“Don’t let me be an excuse,” he said. His gaze was firm and direct meeting yours. “I need you to start taking care of yourself too, all right? Please.” 

Faced with his earnestness, you couldn’t help but soften. After everything he’d done to save you, to protect you, was it fair of you to keep making him worry?

In the past, you’d felt justified. You couldn’t quit. You needed the money. You could handle it, whatever came next. You would deal with it because you had to.

But maybe this time, you didn’t have to. It wasn’t worth all this.

With that resolve, you let out a breath.

“I’m going to call Zachariah,” you said, “and tell him that I’m working from home, or I quit.”

Dean stared back at you with a measure of surprise.

“I’m not going back,” you said, squeezing his hand. “If he has a problem with that, I’ll use whatever I have left in my savings. Hopefully that’ll be enough until I find a new job.”

After a moment, Dean expelled a breath of relief. He beckoned you over, and carefully as you could over the upholstery, you leaned over and caressed his cheek before you went in for a kiss. He welcomed you, with his hands slipping up your sides and around your back, pressing you into him with a heady warmth.

He paused against your lips after a while. His forehead rested against yours.

“You don’t need to drain your savings. I can help you,” Dean started to say, but you pulled back and held your fingers to his lips.

“You’ve helped me enough. You’re already letting me live with you rent free,” you pointed out. “Let me figure out the rest.”

After a moment, Dean wordlessly agreed. He wanted to argue that you wouldn’t have had to move in with him if not for Azazel putting you in his sights, but at the same time, Dean understood that you’d been providing for yourself for a long time. He respected you for it.

So he just guided you back to him for another slow kiss.

John Winchester owned a condo approximately 20 minutes from his sons’ apartment. It was the home they’d grown up in after the house fire, over thirty years ago.

John had learned a lot since then. In fact, some might say that he’d become a paranoid bastard.

Aside from a professional alarm system, he’d installed hidden cameras inside and out of his home, and at every window. It meant that even when he was asleep, his eyes were never truly closed.

When the intruder took his first steps into John’s bedroom, the man himself was waiting with a gun cocked and loaded. The safety clicking back made a small sound, but in the silence, it might as well have been a gunshot.

The masked man swiftly turned and ducked, throwing a punch. The scuffle that followed was quick and covered by darkness.

The cameras on “Night Mode” picked up every moment.

And that was how John later showed video evidence of Alastair Rolston breaking into his condo, and subsequently getting his ass handed to him.

Both men had their fair share of bruises, but at the end of the day, Alastair was the one cuffed to a chair in the bowels of the 84th Precinct. He sat beside his court-appointed lawyer.

Meanwhile, Cas watched the scene from behind the one-way glass window of the interrogation room. Rufus Turner, their Lieutenant, was beside him, along with ADA Sam Winchester. He watched the man his father questioned very carefully. 

“Well, I think you know what this means, Mr. Rolston,” John drawled.

Alastair’s stance in the chair was relaxed, almost unfazed. He gave the detective a wry smile.

“What’s that, John?” he asked.

“I’ve got you dead to rights on attempted murder of a cop,” said John. “It ain’t a good look, my friend.”

“Don’t answer that,” said the lawyer. Alastair glanced at the man, unimpressed, to say the least.

“No fucking shit,” he replied.

“I’d say you’ve got two options,” John pressed forward. He leaned on the table between him and Alastair.

“Did Azazel…excuse me, Daniel Savage, put you up to this? You can answer that question, or I could just skip to the part where you sit in a cell for 20 to life.”

Alastair’s face gave away nothing but calculation and amusement. John nodded, with a grim smile.

“I’ll bet you set the fire at Savage & Co. Trying to get Nick to look like a victim in all this—the consequence of doing business with the likes of Azazel,” he said. “Better yet, I think you’re his favorite hitman. Clean, precise, no tracks left behind, no traces of evidence. Perfect kills. I’ll bet you consider yourself a goddamn artist.”

Alastair lifted his gaze, and John saw the familiar depths of a killer.

“I don’t like setting fires,” said Alastair.

John was nonplussed. “I’m sure you don’t.”

The other man rolled his shoulders.

“It’s all very…messy, you see. Unpredictable.” A smile graced his lips. “But I know someone who does.”

“He’ll give you his employer,” the lawyer said. “The person who ordered the hit.”

“Which hit?” John arched a brow. “I can’t be the only special one. What about Paul Richardson, Jerry Stillwell, Amanda Waller?”

The lawyer shared a look with his client. Alastair rolled his eyes and leaned over to whisper in his ear. After a moment, the lawyer nodded and met John’s gaze.

“He’ll tell you what you want to know, but only for a blanket deal of immunity.”

John could’ve guessed. Alastair smiled once more and leaned back in his seat.

The detective held up a finger and exited the interrogation room. He met Sam’s gaze, and the latter already knew what his father was thinking.

"Give me a minute," Sam said. He went into the room and tried to negotiate with Alastair and his lawyer, but the man wouldn't accept a plea of 20 to 25 years, even to serve all the murders they could charge him with concurrently. Nor would he accept 15 to 20, or even Sam's best deal: 10 to 12.

Sam exited the room and hid his discouragement. He met his father's waiting gaze.

“We can’t give him immunity,” Sam said. “He’s likely the one who committed Azazel’s hits. Not just for the past six months, but for God knows how long, and how many bodies.”

“At this point, it’s the only way we’re getting a chance at Daniel Savage,” John said. “Not just finding him, but pinning him as the mastermind behind the whole operation. Drug trafficking, arson, murders…the whole thing, Sam.”

Sam didn’t like it. No one did, for that matter, but even Rufus heaved a sigh.

“You can’t move forward without a trigger finger willing to testify,” he said.

“Yeah, because hitmen make notoriously credible witnesses,” Sam retorted.

“Do think he set the fires as well?” Cas asked John. “He seemed to imply that he committed the murders, but not the arson.”

John hummed in contemplation.

“We’ll find out. But first, I want a confirmed name from the horse’s mouth,” he said, shifting his attention to Sam. “Can you get me that, son?” 

Sam’s lips pursed.

Within an hour, the paperwork was drawn and the plea deal was arranged. Father and son sat side by side on one side of the interrogation room, while Alastair and his lawyer sat on the other. Alastair finished signing the final document as the cuffs on his wrists jangled.

“All right,” said John. “Tell me what I want to know.”

Alastair smiled and spread his hands as wide as he was able.

“I’m an open book, Johnny. Ask away.”

John leaned forward.

“Let’s start with this,” he said. “Who ordered you to kill me?”

Nick Savage was unearthed from a luxury apartment in the south of France. He was extradited back the United States and hauled into a courtroom in Lawrence, Kansas for arraignment.

Sam Winchester was the prosecutor on the case. As luck would have it, one of his favorite judges was also assigned for this docket.

“What do we have here?” asked Judge Devereaux. He was a portly man, short and graying, with square black glasses that framed his perpetually surly face. The man now adjusted his glasses so he could read the slip of paper the clerk had just handed to him after reading off the docket.

The charges included four counts of murder in the first degree: the murders-for-hire, enacted by Alastair Rolston.

Followed by attempted murder in the first degree, ten counts of murder in the second degree (those who had lost their lives in the most recent building fire), conspiracy to commit murder, arson, and if that weren’t enough, a charge each of attempted sexual assault and sexual harassment.

When the last two charges were read out loud in the courtroom, Nick looked visibly angry.

Sam glanced over at the defendant with thinly veiled satisfaction. Some days, it was difficult for him to come to work.

Today was not that day.

“All right, that is a laundry list of potential misdeeds,” Judge Deveraux remarked. He looked up at Nick Savage. “How does the defendant plead?”

At the prodding of his lawyer, Amelia Richardson, Nick spoke up.

“Not guilty,” he said. Though he rolled his eyes, as if this was a waste of his time.

“What’s the deal here, Mr. Winchester?” Judge Devereaux asked.

“The primary charge is a murder-for-hire, your Honor,” Sam replied. “Mr. Savage hired a hitman to murder at least five people, and succeeded with four. He also masterminded several arsons. This includes a fire at his own company building, which claimed the lives of ten people and injured several others. This is all part of a larger connection to organized crime, which the People intend to prove in our case. Due to the nature of the charges, and the defendant clearly being a flight risk, we seek his remand to custody without bail.”

The judge raised his brows. He turned to the defendant’s lawyer.

“What about it, Miss Richardson?”

Amelia shot Sam a glance, but she replied to the judge.

“What we have here is a conflict of interest, your Honor,” she said. “Detective John Winchester has a vendetta against my client. Therefore, Mr. Winchester should recuse himself. It’s a family affair, Judge, and they have no evidence for any of these charges, except for the testimony of a confessed murderer.”

“It’s called prosecutorial discretion,” Sam cut in. “Our evidence goes beyond Mr. Rolston’s testimony and will more than support our case. I’ve also tried my father’s cases before, your Honor. This defendant is no different.”

The judge peered closer at the docket with incredulous eyes.

“Except for the fact that one of the attempted murders was on your father. John Winchester?” Judge Devereaux actually chuckled. “Oh, Mr. Savage. Many have tried and failed on that regard.”

“Judge,” Amelia tried, but Devereaux waved her off. Sam took in that small victory without giving anything away outwardly. The fact that John was on the docket as a “victim” was easily Sam’s biggest challenge in this arraignment, but he just couldn’t hand this off to another prosecutor.

“And what’re these last charges about?” the judge asked.

“Mr. Savage attempted to sexually assault one of his employees at a company Christmas party in the defendant’s home, your Honor,” Sam replied. His gaze once again cut over to Nick, who glared back at him with a sneer.

“That’s a goddamn lie!” Nick shouted.

Amelia grabbed his arm and tried to shut him up, but Nick jerked out of her grasp.

“Put a gag on your client or I will, Miss Richardson,” Devereaux warned with a deepening frown.

“Hey,” Amelia hissed a whisper, grabbing the sleeve of Nick’s suit jacket this time. “Get it together and shut your mouth. Remember where you are.”

He ignored her to try and speak to the judge himself. 

“That bitch tased me. Did she tell you that?” Nick levied Sam a look, before he turned back to Devereaux. “Yeah, she assaulted me, Judge. So that charge is fucking bogus.”

“I’ve heard quite enough!” Devereaux snapped. He raised his gavel and slammed it down loud enough for Nick to flinch. “The defendant is remanded to custody, without bail.”

It was more satisfying than John would admit.

While the development wasn’t exactly what he had expected, having Daniel Savage’s son dragged out of his new prison home to sit in another musty holding cell was the highlight of the new year.

This was the poor excuse for a man who’d given him such a headache these past few months. This was the little shit that nearly got his son killed, and who’d been terrorizing you for months, if not years.

But he would be a means to an end.

“I’ll tell ya what, Nick. You don’t look like a man that could organize a handful of murders and arsons, but here we are,” John said.

He scratched the back of his head and sat on the corner of the desk. Sam was seated across from Nick, and Cas was hanging back within the cell, watching the exchange (and watching Nick’s reactions for any tells).

On the other side sat Nick himself, dressed down in his gray prison garb. It was a far cry from the $5,000 suit he wore in the arraignment. Next to him was his lawyer, Amelia Richardson.

“Is there a question in there somewhere?” she asked. She shot Sam a glance.

They had dated in law school for a few months. It had ended abruptly when her husband returned from Afghanistan. It had been a shock to both of them, since the man had been presumed dead.

Clearly, Sam had moved on since then. He was happier with Eileen than he ever was, but he could tell that Amelia had never quite recovered from the “what could’ve been” of their relationship.

Still, Sam had set all that aside the moment he stepped into this room. He watched his father work.

“Why did you set fire to your own building?” John asked.

He’d expected Nick to be more explosive with his denials, but the man was quietly simmering, like he just wanted the questioning to be over. It reminded John of when his sons were teenagers. Maybe he hadn’t been the perfect father, but intuition was telling him something…

“You didn’t do it, did you?” John mused. “At least, not that fire.”

It was interesting, however, that Alastair had pinned the Savage & Co. fire on the son—that Nick had started it himself, along with the other arsons. Alastair had just been the muscle, committing the murders and the brandings on the victims.

John wasn’t so sure he believed that. He leaned in a bit and gave Nick a wry smile.

“Did Daddy do that one for ya?” he asked.

At that, Nick held firm. “My father has nothing to do with this.”

Hmm, a bit of familial loyalty? Maybe trying to prove himself, John detected. How far is he willing to go to protect his dad?

“So you did do it, along with the other arsons,” John said.

“Are you trying to get him to confess without a plea deal?” Amelia snarked.

“I’m trying to figure out how badly this kid wants to stay out of jail for the rest of his life,” John said.

“I’m not a fucking kid,” Nick grumbled.

“If you have something for us on Daniel Savage, then we’re willing to listen,” Sam added. “Do you really want to spend the rest of your life in jail?”

Nick crossed his arms, clearly uncooperative.

Sam narrowed his gaze. “This is your last chance, Nick.”

“You don’t have anything on me except for the word of a murdering felon,” Nick retorted. “I’ll beat this trial in a few months and I’ll be out free…but if you really want to know, I’ll let you in on a little something.”

He leaned in, meeting John’s eyes.

“Dad retaliates,” said Nick. “I think you know that best of all, Detective. This time, I think it’s one son for another. And you’ve got two to pick from.”

“Nick,” Amelia warned, but he ignored her.

He glanced at a carefully stoic Sam before he smirked in John’s face, which had become devoid of all humor and revealed the stoniness underneath.

“If I were a betting guy, I’d put my money on the one that had a fucking building fall on him.”

After leaving the county jail, John drove Sam and Cas back to his sons’ apartment. They couldn’t treat Nick’s warning as an idle threat.

Sam was the prosecutor on the case. He wasn’t willing to step down, so the best they could do for him was give him a police security detail that would have to be with him at all times. However, all three men agreed that you, Dean, and Eileen needed to be put in protective custody during the trial.

“Damn it, Dean,” Sam muttered. His brother wasn’t answering his cell.

“Try him again,” said John.

“Is Eileen still at work?” Cas asked.

“Yeah, but she’s talking to the principal now about a temporary replacement for her classes,” Sam replied. He was worried about her safety, but he was also worried about you and Dean. Neither of you were answering your cell phones.

He later let John and Cas into his apartment, where all looked normal and clean.

“Dean!” Sam called out. He was just about to search the apartment when the man came out of his room, looking freshly showered.

“Hey, what’s up?” said Dean. “The gang’s all here, huh?”

“I’ve been calling you for an hour. Where’ve you been?” Sam asked in annoyance, though it was edged with a hint of more that tipped off Dean.

He sensed the tension in the room between his brother, his father, and his friend. He frowned.

“I had a doctor’s appointment. Why?”

John explained the latest round of questioning with Nick Savage, and his most recent threat. John asked where you were right now, if not in the apartment. Dean’s expression shifted to one of worry as he went to find his cell phone.

“She had a job interview,” he admitted, scrolling through his phone to find your name. “She couldn’t reschedule it, else she would’ve gone with me.”

He’d been uneasy about you going to the interview by yourself, but you hadn’t wanted him to change his appointment, and you had assured him it was only a few minutes away…

Dean held the phone to his ear and waited what felt like an eternity as it rang.

Pick up. Pick up, damn it.

Finally, the line connected.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he greeted…but you didn’t answer.

“You there?” he asked. There was a pit forming in his stomach when he glanced up at John. His father met his gaze with furrowed brows that betrayed concern.

The line was silent for one more painful moment. Dean opened his mouth to call out to you again, but a smooth voice interrupted.

“Dean, Dean, Dean,” a man replied. “Forgetting something?”

AN: 🫣 Sorry lol.

But the next chapter will bring the final showdown...

Next Time:

Dean’s heart began to pound. His mouth parted, but for a moment, the words wouldn’t escape.

“Who is this?” he said. His voice was a hint unsteady.

“I think you know, son,” the man replied.

Keep Reading: PART 19

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

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[passivenovember]

Being a dad is something he's always wanted. Call it a cliche, right, the all-American, golden boy who's caught up in the idea of four to six snot-nosed brats looking up to him as they try to make sense of all the big and small things because they have no other choice. You only get one dad, right?

He images them, crawling and then walking and then sprinting through the same ancient, brand-new stages of life. Six months, learning the kitchen-magic of how their fingers and toes bend on command. A year, stumbling Jello-legged down a hallway. Fifteen, slamming their bedroom door only to rush, crying, into Steve's arms when he works up the courage to rap his knuckles on the wood like the dad from Full House.

Maybe. It's all Steve's ever wanted. More than that signed Nicks basketball his own dad sent for him when he was twelve. More than Nancy Wheeler. More than his need for mountains, and oceans, and something else.

But then he meets Billy, and it's like all that other shit goes away for a while. None of it disappears, really, but he's got something to focus on, now. Something to work toward, with someone, and that makes it worse, in a way.

Billy finally lets him fuck, and Steve lays in bed that night with an irritatingly awful douchebag drooling a spot onto his chest, and Steve thinks. Knows--

Look, he won't admit it on the first fuck, but this is it for him. He wants to buy this dude house, and he wants wedding rings around the fat and bone of both their fingers, and. He wants babies, with Billy.

Aches Billy to love him.

He wants a life with this asshole. The whole nine. Steve runs his hand through Billy's hair and falls asleep imagining family Christmases, and vacations, and the fragile, shining hope that Billy will wake up tomorrow and swear that he's in love. That Steve is who he's waited 19 years for. That to each other, they'll always belong.

Obviously, that doesn't happen. Maybe.

If it does Steve wouldn't know, because Billy's not a lunatic. He's gone before the sky's fully blue. Leaves his phone number scrawled on the corner of Steve's mirror in Sharpie.

Steve's in love.

So. Immediately, he wants the impossible, but mostly, he just wants Billy. And by some giant, invisible, choking miracle he gets Billy. His body first, and then his thoughts. His laugh, genuine and biting and whole. Billy shares his memories, like pieces of bread dropped in water for hungry birds, for Steve. Achingly slow, he tells his hopes, his dreams, and.

Eventually, one night with his head on Steve's chest he says, "You terrify me. I never want it to end."

So. It's basically love.

Steve's a loose canon when it comes to this feeling. Pedal to the medal, he shoots through walls with bright red booming firepower until everything is cracked and bleeding and open around them. Until there's room enough to say, "I love you, move in with me."

So, Billy does. Impossible.

Wonderful and joking, even though it's not a joke when Steve's parents meet him on move in day and Steve's dad is thrilled that Billy knows shit about cars, and Steve's mom likes that Billy has a weathered recipe book that was, "passed down from my grandma, back in California," for her to find a place for in their tiny, warm kitchen while she unpacks.

"He's very nice," Steve's mother says, "Respectful. Handsome." In that same wistful, sleepy tone that she used when she first called Nancy wheeler sweet. Beautiful.

"He's a fine young man, son," Steve's dad tells him. "Try not to run him off."

Steve watches them reverse from the ratty, rocky, untamed driveway, with his heart in his throat. Imagines the day he and Billy will leave their kids, supported and loved fiercely, to make that wobbly step toward the brush-fire shore of their lives.

--

Steve's plan for the future lives and breathes in a small, tucked-away corner in his mind for months. He nearly chokes to death on it, several times a day, watching Billy relax into his routine.

Billy cooks dinner every night. They eat on the couch in their boxers, dishes left on the coffee table until Billy kisses him awake in the blue light of the television, "Let's go to bed, baby," he says. Steve always notices that the plates and cups are cleared away, the living room tidy for the dawn.

Billy buys a shovel and digs two holes in their patchy backyard. Steve watches him from the kitchen window, wondering what the cavities will grow with the start of spring.

Billy plants a clothesline. "My mom used to dry our clothes this way," He says, when Steve raises an eyebrow. He tacks sheets and sweaters to sway in the sunlight. Talks about laying a patio out there, so they can grill for people when it's warm.

Steve gets hard from the image of himself, in an apron, grilling hot dogs and hamburgers for their friends, first, and kids. Someday. A total dad.

--

Billy makes use of his library card and checks out every book about homesteading he can find. He learns about gardening, and bricklaying, and how to buff gashes out of hardwood floors. For his birthday, Billy hints at a Better Homes and Gardens subscription.

When Steve forks out the cash and the May issue arrives in the mail two months later, Billy presses a hasty kiss to his forehead and disappears onto the porch. He spends his Sunday afternoons with sticky notes and an overused ballpoint pen from that moment on, circling things that have no rhyme or reason, to Steve.

--

They've been living in their house for six months when Billy says, suddenly, "We should see if we can buy it." Like he's been planning his own version of their future.

It's Sunday, and he's just come up for air from Better Homes and Gardens. There's a cheese plate in his hands. He's parked by the front door, on his way out, looking startled as if the words escaped from a caged area buried deep inside of him.

"Huh?" Steve's more of the lay-around-and-rot-in-his-underwear-on-Sunday's type. He's eating ice cream out of the container, distracted by something Barney Fife says. He laughs.

"We should buy the place," Billy tells him.

Steve blinks, "The house?"

"It's our house," Billy says delicately, with all the weight of the world resting on him.

Steve looks up from the television set, shocked that Billy's hair is wet in some places and drying in others. As if he was being groomed by some large, impatient cat. He peers around Billy, out the screen door. "Is it raining?"

"Sprinkling," Billy says, "I have an umbrella."

"Your magazine's gonna get wet."

"I'm reading The Grapes of Wrath," Billy tells him, pulling a weathered copy out from under his cheese plate.

"Sure, but if the rain picks up, your book--"

"--The characters could use a little water," Billy says, "They're trapped in the dust bowl."

"I'm in love with you," Steve says. Like it's the first time he's ever admitted something like this out loud. So it's a surprise. "I like that you read. I like that you talk about everything like it's real."

Billy pads over to the couch and knocks Steve's legs apart. He settles on the arm of the thing, cold, wet toes pressing into Steve's thigh. Steve winces, sputtering when Billy feeds him a slice of American cheese wrapped in bologna.

He chews. Swallows. "I need to make more money, baby."

"Why," Billy asks, feeding himself.

"Because," Steve chokes on the next round Billy feeds him, heart soaring when Billy smiles, "Because if we're gonna lay a patio and grill for our friends I want to make sure you have decent ingredients."

"I don't mind the cheap stuff."

"You deserve better," Than what I can provide, Steve doesn't say.

Billy shrugs, feeding him another round of cheese and meat. "Well, if we're following through with the patio and the grill--"

"--And a porch awning," Steve says, feeding Billy a slice of cheese, "I'm adding that to the list. You can’t read your book and eat snacks while holding a fucking umbrella over your head."

Billy stares at him, swallowing and red cheeked. "I think any sort of permanent installment has to be cleared through the landlord."

Steve thinks about it, humming low when Billy slips off the armrest and settles, heavily, into his lap. "So, we buy the place."

"I need a better job, too."

"We'll look when the paper comes tomorrow."

They lapse into silence, eating cheese and bologna until it's gone, then they move to the ice cream Steve was working his way through, chuckling at The Andy Grifith Show.

It starts pouring rain, little hammers falling on the roof until the power flickers. "I want to make this house nice for you," Billy says.

Steve looks at him. "It's already nice."

"It could be better," Billy says, fiddling with the hair on Steve's chest. "We could have a garden. And I think the beige walls are boring as shit, we need to get some wallpaper. Or paint, or something."

"What else should we do?"

Billy shrugs, "The kitchen needs a rug. I saw this book at the library about how old men in Russia and China and shit learn to weave rugs on giant wooden looms. Some of them have seaters, and others hang them from the ceiling. Your car needs a new power steering pump--"

"--Sounds like you need a shed."

"Yeah, I guess so," Billy says. He grins, and then his brows furrow. "But. Steve, I want to build us a life, here. I want to start my life with you, I don't want to wait until we move to something we own, because I like this house, and I feel like when we start to grow our family, we can--"

Steve's heart stops beating.

His vision tunnels, all his focus collapsing on the words Billy says. Phrases that sound wonderful and impossible, all knitting together to equal nurseries built from two-by-four.

Billy stares at him cheeks red. "Sorry, I know we haven't talked about any of this. I get excited."

"I'm in love with you," Steve tells him, breathless.

"I know, dumbass, I'm in love with you."

Steve kisses him. Pulls away. "You really wanna buy a house?"

"Yeah. Not a house, this house."

"You wanna have my babies?"

Billy tugs on his chest hair, grinning when Steve yelps. "Maybe you wanna have my babies, instead."

"Sure," Steve tells him immediately, "Yeah, anything you want."

"I'm going back onto the porch," Billy says, "We'll start with the job listings in the paper."

Steve watches him go. Thinks he could be alright at this, being a husband and a father. Someday.

Right now, he's alright at being Billy's.

[sturnsbaebackup]

SHY - M. STURNIOLO (PART TWO)

i highly recommend reading part 1 first, which is linked here!

summary; after madi and nick set up their plan to make you and matt fall in love, you’re finally going over to their house to film for the first time… and the connection between you and matt only grows stronger

warnings: she/her pronouns used, mentions of gagging. purely fluff!!!

—

your car ride to the sturniolos apartment consists of nothing but a very happy madi in the passenger seat and severely shaky hands. so much that madi almost had to take your spot in the drivers seat a couple times because you haven’t been able to steer correctly.

when you arrive in the parking lot outside of their complex, you sit in the car for a minute to regain some control of your emotions. as deep breaths exit your nose, madi speaks up. “y/n, you’re going to be fine i promise. now can we go inside? i don’t want to keep them waiting any longer,” she begs. you exhale sharply, nodding your head as you grip the door handle.

before you can even realize it, you’re standing in front of their door as madi gently knocks on the door. you fully snap back into reality when you see matt’s face at the door, greeting you both with a big teethy grin. “hi guys! come on in!” he says, stepping aside for both you and madi.

their house isn’t necessarily the cleanest place you’ve ever seen, but you can tell that they put in somewhat of an effort to clean it for you guys. you smile at nick as he comes running to the door, pulling you into a tight hug. “y/n, hi! i’m so glad you came!” he smiles, making your heart swell with joy. even if you’re in shambles from your nerves, you’re still super joyous that you’ve been adapted into their lives so quickly.

“so before we start the video, we need to go to the grocery store. for some context, we’re doing a challenge where we all buy a few gross or weird foods of our choice, and line them up on the counter. we have an app that when you put a bunch of fingers on it, it randomly selects someone and whoever gets picked has to eat the next food item in the lineup,” nick explains.

“oh god, this sounds awful,” you groan, earning a laugh from a few people.

“this sounds fun y/n! lighten up,” matt teases, nudging your shoulder lightly as he does so. you blush a little and that pit from a few days ago immediately comes back.

“okay people we don’t have all the time in the world, so let’s go!” nick exclaims, pushing you and madi out the door. the five of you get into the car, driving to the closest grocery store. you all go in and make sure to separate so that you don’t spoil your items to one another. each person is supposed to buy 3 items so that the total will add up to 15 items. your items of choice are horse radish, sardines, and to be nice you decide to add unicorn pudding cups.

while you’re using the self checkout, you see chris appear in the line in your peripheral vision. you notice him trying to peak at your items, and you turn your head to him. “stop cheating chris!” you say sternly, making him roll his eyes.

“i wasn’t even looking at you y/n,” he lies, knowing damn well you both know he’s bluffing. you just chuckle to yourself and secretly place your items in your bag, making sure chris doesn’t see. eventually everyone finishes their quick shopping, and you all head back to the apartment to begin the video.

“hi guys! today we’re going to be playing disgusting food roulette, but we have a couple special guests with us! c’mere guys,” nick says, wrapping both his arms around you and madi to drag you both into frame.

“hi guys,” madi says softly with an awkward smile.

“and for those of you who don’t know who y/n is, she’s a great friend of madi’s, and one of our newest friends! her socials will be linked below, so go check out her stuff! she posts a lot on tiktok and instagram, so make sure to go follow her! you can expect to see her in a lot more videos,” nick says smiling at you. you smile back, truthfully unsure of what to say.

“yeah yeah okay we get it nick now stop kissing y/n’s ass and let’s reveal what foods we bought,” chris groans, making you flip him off.

“chris is just mad i caught him trying to look at my foods at self checkout,” you shrug. chris gasps and immediately throws his hands up in defense, “you’re just full of yourself! i was not looking at you,” he rolls his eyes playfully.

“okay chris, leave y/n alone,” matt chuckles, putting his bag of food on the counter. per usual, this sets off that feeling in your stomach once again, but not as bad as before. you’re starting to embrace the obvious feelings you have for matt, and you’re actually okay with that. once everyone reveals their items, it’s time to let the fun begin. “okay guys put your finger down on the phone screen! whoever’s finger gets the little white dot under it has to eat the food,” nick says as you all place your fingers on the phone screen.

the first couple of items on the counter aren’t very bad, but as you further along the line things start to get bad. unfortunately you get chosen to eat the horseradish. “clearly this is my karma for buying this,” you groan, hesitantly placing the spoon into the jar. you quickly shove it into your mouth and swallow, trying to forget about the fact you’re eating horseradish. the taste fills your throat and begins stinging your nostrils from the pungent smell. you start gagging a little, and everyone bursts out laughing.

“fuck oh my god! this is disgusting!” you say, leaning over onto the counter in disgust. you pray that you get the coconut water since it’s the next item, but unfortunately it goes to matt. he takes a sip and scrunches his face a little, and you groan at the gross taste in your mouth. nick and chris are arguing in the middle of the kitchen, while you and matt stand off in the corner. “do you want a sip of my coconut water?” he chuckles, and you accept it gratefully. even if it tastes nasty, you still drink a few big gulps to get the taste of your previous item out of your mouth.

eventually it gets to sriracha sauce, and you’re afraid of getting that as an item seeing as you don’t do good with spices. and of course with your luck, you do. “oh fuck me!” you groan, lifting the spoonful of it off of the counter. you take a deep breath before putting it in your mouth, groaning at the burning sensation on your tongue and lips. you have an overwhelming mix of different disgusting tastes and sensations in your mouth, making you fall to the ground out of disgust and discomfort. everyone laughs at your reaction, and matt lifts his hand out for you to take as a guide back on your feet.

thankfully along the way you get a few good items, but the next item is that stupid pepper chris bought. everyone is deathly afraid of getting it, but unfortunately matt is the one who gets chosen. “you’re joking, you’re actually fucking joking! i’ve gotten all of the worst items!” matt cries out while dragging his hands down his face.

“oh no poor matt,” madi laughs, and matt just groans. he takes a bite of the pepper, and immediately his eyes start watering. he falls to the floor and just curls into a ball while groaning in pain. you all let out a laugh, but after a few moments you guys start getting a bit concerned.

“matt are you okay?” nick asks. matt just looks up at everyone and pouts with little tears welling up in his eyes. you make a little frown at him while letting out a little chuckle. he gets to his feet and stumbles over towards you, pulling you into a hug. he isn’t necessarily thinking clearly, seeing as his mouth, throat, lips, and basically sinuses are all on fire. your eyes widen, but you hug him back gently. you let out a few chuckles, and nick hands him a glass of milk to try and subside the burning sensation in his mouth.

“i’m going to bed, goodnight everyone,” he sadly laughs, waking to his room. you all burst out laughing and end the video without matt.

“someone should go check on him, y/n can you go make sure he’s alive? we need to clean everything up,” nick asks while giving a look to madi. you roll your eyes at the two of them, “yeah sure,” you say in an annoyed tone. they’re making their plan so obvious that even chris is starting to pick up on it.

you softly knock on matt’s door and you hear a muffled voice telling you to come inside. you walk in and his room is surprisingly clean. the lights are off and he’s laying in his bed hugging a pillow, with the empty glass of milk on his bedside table. “i was tasked to come make sure you’re alive. you doing okay?” you ask.

“my mouth is on fire,” he groans and you laugh a little.

“do you want me to get you anything?”

“more milk, please,” he practically begs. you nod and take his empty cup to the kitchen. when you bring it back to him, he’s now sitting up in his bed with his phone in hand.

“fuck, thank you so much y/n,” he says before chugging the whole cup in under 5 seconds. you let out a giggle and he just smiles at you bashfully. he pats the end of his bed, signaling you to sit down on it. your heart rate begins to increase but you do as you’re told and sit down.

“y/n, i know we just met and this might seem a little quick… but i think you’re really pretty and sweet. i was wondering if you maybe wanted to grab food sometime? and i know it’s a little awkward since you just saw me crying from eating a pepper, but it’s the first time i’ve actually gotten the chance to ask you this,” he chuckles and you laugh at the end of his sentence.

“oh my gosh of course matt! i’d love to,” you blush, this time not even worried if he can see your cheeks turning pink. you both figure out a date and time, meanwhile madi chris and nick are all secretly standing outside the door listening in. you exit matt’s room and you see them not so slyly trying to pretend they weren’t listening.

“you guys suck, you know that?” you jokingly say, and they all just shrug.

“have fun at dinner with matt on saturday,” nick winks as you exit their apartment. you just roll your eyes with a smile, “yeah yeah whatever nick.”

[byllsbytch]

SHARK WEEK

Nicholas Alexander Chavez

Genre: Fluff

Summary: You experience period pains and call off Nicholas visiting. He refuses to stay away.

Warnings: N/A

It was that time of the month and I laid in bed awaiting for Nick to rock up after filming . 

It'd taken Nicholas 2 years to finally convince me to come off the pill.

I typically wasn't in so much pain when it came to my period but no longer being on the pill I had forgotten how bad my cramps and lower back pain was.

It was surely kicking my ass. 

I was paralyzed in pain I kept my eyes closed trying not to throw up. "I'm going to have to cancel Nick coming over tonight." I thought to myself groaning. I cannot see anyone like this.

I cautiously reached over to my phone not trying to make any sudden movement and put myself into a world of more hurt. I dialled up the number of the studio that the Nick was at and sat listening to the ringing for a while, after moments of waiting finally an answer.

"Hello, Ben speaking" The voice said, I screwed up my face and looked at my phone again making sure it was the right number before I placed it back to my ear.

"Its me prick, you're not that famous asshole" 

"Who is this?" Nick was puzzled.

"Y/N?" 

"Oh, you sound grouchier than Y/N" he joked

"Well, that's what happens when you tell your girlfriend to get off the pill!"

"Really?!"

"No dipshit, it's uh- whatever. Nicholas, I'm dying right now"

Nicks eyes widened as he looked over at the director who was gesturing at him. When Ryan Murphy is working he doesn't take bullshit and just wants to get filming over with. Ryan was getting agitated but Nick lowered the phone covering the mic.

"It's shark week" he mouthed to the him. 

"So don't worry about coming over tonight, i wont be much entertainment tonight."

"Dont be silly, i love to just being around you, we dont need to talk, you know this. You presence is all I need."

"Nawee" I whined tears forming in my eyes. 

"Are you crying?" 

"No" I sobbed. 

"Look I'm still coming over, we'll be done soon."

At that he hung up.

Mum came in with Panadol and a heat pack and I took two tablets rolling over and curling into a ball eventually drifting to sleep.

- 

I woke up to see Nick sitting beside me on the bed eating pasta; his eyes fixated on the TV. I smiled and scooted closer. He looked down at me and smiled placing down his bowl on the bedside table. "Good Morning Beauty, how you going?" he ran his fingers through my hair. 

"Mmm" i mumbled contently. 

"Give me a second" he said getting up, taking the heat pack with him. After several moment he came back with the warmed heat pack. raspberry bullets and a pack of pads.

"Baby I'll be honest... I still don't get what pads you use, the worker just picked these ones out for me."

I groggily raised my head to the sound of his voice and smiled dopily slowly raising myself to sit up.

"Lay down baby" he huffed running to my side. "It's all good you just rest."

But your couldn't rest; your heart was currently exploding from all the detail, love and care Nick put into being there for you. Sure he wasn't too sure on what pads to get you but he knew raspberry bullets were your favourite and that you needed a heat pack.

"I'll just place these ones in the bathroom for when your ready." He called from down the hallway, placing the pad atop the toilet shelf.

I laid with the heat pack against my stomach as I filled my mouth with the raspberry liquorice. Nick came back into the room and grabbed my hand placing sweet kisses on it.

"Can I get you anything else Princess?" He winked while rubbing his thumb in circles on my hand.

(A/N: OH. MY. DAYS. guys with nice hands that do that lil thumb rub thing have me in a CHOKEHOLDDD!!! n ik Nick would do it all the time too)

I slightly chuckled to myself. "Come park up," I smiled tapping on the free spot next to me. With no obligations - Nicholas was quick to go back to his spot on the bed and finish his pasta.

You best believe the rest of the night was filled with cuddles and kisses.

[nyoomerr]

Only if you want but phantom thief! Binghe x rich boy Shen Yuan, heir to a famous jeweler/jewerly store business.

It can be Bingge or Binghe, whatever you want! Love your work!

dont mind me using this as a sort-of warm up for writing a much bigger bingge pov binggeyuan thing ehehe 😌 ty for sending this prompt in!

---

Luo Binghe does not get caught. It’s in his title, even - a phantom thief, completely untouchable. 

Well, perhaps not completely untouchable. After all, many times the most efficient way to get his hands on a particularly valuable set of jewelry is to let the lady wearing it put her hands on him. Flirtations and bold fondling in a dark corner of a party, hands on the woman’s face and shoulders and the diamond necklace around her neck -

Normal things for someone in Luo Binghe’s line of work, really, when that someone looks the way Luo Binghe does. Charm is as indispensable a tool as a lockpick. 

It’s only a tool that Luo Binghe dares to use when he knows it will be well received, though. Unwelcome advances are more likely to get a mark to grow more defensive on all lines, not just towards sexual advances, and then the whole job gets more difficult. Still not impossible - not for Luo Binghe - but Luo Binghe has a messy habit of turning theft into murder when he’s faced with rejection. 

It isn’t his fault. The people who turn Luo Binghe away - who look at him with cold disinterest and disgusted sneers plastered across their ugly, painted faces - they deserve to die. Luo Binghe is only doing the world a service.

Still, the cleanup becomes much more difficult when Luo Binghe’s mouth is stained with blood rather than smeared lipstick, so he learns to assess his marks carefully. Those that would think themselves clever and better than Luo Binghe get stolen from in the traditional sense, and they never see Luo Binghe during the process.

Shen Yuan is one such mark. Oh, Luo Binghe could break him in, probably - he watches from a distance as Shen Yuan’s eyes linger on the strong forearms of the barista who hands him his coffee, and he knows without testing that Luo Binghe could fluster such a small thing like Shen Yuan without much effort. 

To actually touch Shen Yuan, however, would be far more difficult. Luo Binghe knows this much from even the most basic of background searches: Shen Yuan takes pretty girls to banquets despite never touching them, and the way he dresses… yes, Shen Yuan certainly would like to think of himself as a straight man, the poor thing. Not the sort of nut Luo Binghe cares to crack when it’s for business rather than pleasure.

Besides, most of Shen Yuan’s valuables are kept in his family’s home. The pretty things Luo Binghe could nick off Shen Yuan’s person are limited and hardly the most enticing of Shen Yuan’s things, so there’s no need to push it.

Shen Yuan will simply be the sort of mark that never sees Luo Binghe, never gets close enough to touch.

That’s the sort of mark Shen Yuan is supposed to be.

“Um,” Shen Yuan says, standing awkwardly in the doorway of the very high security office that Luo Binghe has just broken into. “Can I, um. Help you…?”

Luo Binghe stares at him. He’s just finished picking the lock on one of the glass cabinets in the office, and he knows that from Shen Yuan’s perspective he must have a very clear view of the ruby earrings that Luo Binghe had plucked from the case.

He doesn’t stare long. Hesitating only ever gets someone caught, and Luo Binghe does not get caught.

The office has no windows, so Luo Binghe will have to exit through the door that Shen Yuan is standing in. He turns to face Shen Yuan fully - he empty hand neatly plucking a few more pieces from the cabinet and tucking them in his pockets as he moves - and starts sauntering over to Shen Yuan.

Shen Yuan was not meant to be one of the marks he seduced, but plans can change. He’ll just need to fluster Shen Yuan long enough to make it past him to one of the several exit plans Luo Binghe had planned. 

That should be enough - Shen Yuan is only wearing an oversized shirt and boxers, clearly having gotten up from bed without dressing properly, and he doesn’t appear to be carrying anything in his hands. All that together means he’s likely not carrying his phone, and Luo Binghe knows the security schedule well enough to know that Shen Yuan yelling wouldn’t have anyone arriving quick enough to stop him. 

Shen Yuan takes half a step back as Luo Binghe approaches, but he doesn’t leave the doorway. He must have some idea that he’s the only obstacle in Luo Binghe’s way, then. Luo Binghe smiles at him, only half faking the predatory look of it. 

“Yuan-er,” Luo Binghe croons, and Shen Yuan shuffles back another half foot, his ears turning pink where they stick out from some truly terrible bed head.

Spoiled, Luo Binghe thinks in the privacy of his own mind, poisonous and bitter. A child who’s always been allowed laziness.

“Yuan-er, you’ve really got to put better locks on your things,” Luo Binghe says as he approaches. “Isn’t this your family’s precious legacy? That sort of thing should be protected…”

Shen Yuan’s brows furrow. Luo Binghe can very clearly read the baffled what the fuck that silently twists his lips, but Luo Binghe doesn’t react. 

That’s it, little rabbit - just stand there, and let yourself be confused and taken aback by the thief in front of you, and I’ll escape before you have to worry your spoiled little head about it.

Luo Binghe is only a few paces away, now. He’ll brush past Shen Yuan’s right side to avoid getting caught on the arm he has resting on the doorway, and -

“Say please,” Shen Yuan says, glaring up at Luo Binghe as he crosses his arms.

Luo Binghe falters. “What was that, Yuan-er?”

“You’re clearly capable of sweet talk, so you should start with asking nicely before you take our shit,” Shen Yuan scoffs. 

Luo Binghe stops in front of Shen Yuan, close enough that Shen Yuan has to tilt his head up to maintain eye contact with him. 

He should just brush past, really. Shen Yuan is small, and Luo Binghe already knows he doesn’t have a way to raise alarm in an effective way.

Luo Binghe does not brush past.

He kind of wants to slit Shen Yuan’s throat for thinking he has any right to tell Luo Binghe to say please, sitting comfortably in the lap of luxury like he is. 

“I’m impressed,” Luo Binghe says, his smile so sharp it may as well just be a baring of his teeth. “Yuan-er knows so many big words for a little princling of such an important business. Did you learn them from listening to clients speak to your daddy?”

Shen Yuan’s eye twitches. “Ah,” he says. “You’re an asshole on top of being impolite, then.”

Luo Binghe’s fingers twitch towards the switchblade in his pocket. He wouldn’t be able to clean up a body before security loops back around to this wing of the house, and Luo Binghe has already left a mess from being interrupted in the middle of his heist. He hasn’t left any fingerprints, but he can’t be sure about hair -

Shen Yuan reaches up and flicks Luo Binghe’s forehead. Luo Binghe goes dead still. That’s it, then. He’s going to kill Shen Yuan, this rich little brat -

“Oi, you’re going to ruin your pretty face with a mean expression like that,” Shen Yuan complains. “Just get out of here if you aren’t going to listen nicely - I already called security before coming over here to tell you off myself.”

Luo Binghe pulls out the switchblade, snarling down at Shen Yuan. “Oh, Yuan-er, I think there’s something much better I could ruin.”

Shen Yuan shifts uncomfortably at the sight of the blade, some of his irritation replaced with the faintest glimmer of fear. Luo Binghe pushes closer, wanting to see more - wanting to see Shen Yuan’s delicate face contorted with the sort of despair that a little lordling like him would never have known before, wanting to see him cry - 

There’s footsteps from down the hall. Shen Yuan had not been bluffing; he really had called someone, then. Luo Binghe cannot guarantee he’ll be able to kill Shen Yuan quickly enough that Shen Yuan is unable to give a description of his murderer to the help before he dies.

Hesitating gets people caught. Luo Binghe does not get caught, so he brushes past Shen Yuan harshly without another moment’s pause, even though what he wants to do is something far more violent and time consuming. 

Luo Binghe hasn’t failed a heist like this since he was a damn child, and this stupid little twink dares to just stand there and watch Luo Binghe run down the hallway to the nearest window instead of lay bleeding on the ground like he should be doing, Luo Binghe will come back to kill him -

“At least say thanks!” Shen Yuan calls out as Luo Binghe approaches the window. “Even if you can’t ask nicely to begin with, you should at least say thanks, ah!”

Luo Binghe ignores him. He’s busy pulling his jacket off to wrap around his arms, preparing to jump through the window’s glass in such a way that he can avoid getting cut and leaving his own blood at the scene of the crime.

“Aiya, what an asshole…” Shen Yuan is grumbling behind him. “You know, you may regret not bothering to pay me a bit more attention.”

Oh, Luo Binghe is paying attention. He’s very vividly imagining what Shen Yuan’s neck would feel between his fingers, right now, even as he backs up several steps to get a running start at the window. 

The office had been on the second story, so Luo Binghe has to roll to mitigate the force of the fall. He stands quickly, does a perfunctory check of his pockets to ensure nothing fell when he hit the ground, and -

He’s missing the jewelry he nicked. He has the ruby earrings, but the others he’d stolen as he was leaving are gone. Luo Binghe searches the ground around where he’d fallen frantically; he has to move now, but he can’t leave those behind either. After all that this heist has brought, Luo Binghe can’t allow it to not even be profitable. 

Above him, Shen Yuan clears his throat from the broken window. Luo Binghe whips his head up to look at him.

In one hand, Shen Yuan is holding the missing jewelry.

“I told you,” Shen Yuan says. “Jeez, as if I’m that useless.”

Luo Binghe stares up at him. No one has ever dared to steal back from Luo Binghe.

“...Aren’t you going to leave? Security really will be here soon.” Shen Yuan calls down at him. Then he pauses, and even in the darkness Luo Binghe can tell his ears have gone pink again. “...I let you keep the rubies. They, uh. Would probably go well. With you. And your eyes. And uh. Anyway, say thanks!”

“...Thanks?” Luo Binghe says, baffled and furious and still sort of itching to take his switchblade out and throw it pointy-side first at Shen Yuan’s pretty face.

“You’re welcome, asshole!” Shen Yuan calls back, clearly pleased. 

Luo Binghe stares for a moment longer, then turns and runs. He will not get caught, even on nights that have gone as stupendously terrible as this one has. So long as he doesn’t get caught, there’s always next time. 

So long as he doesn’t get caught, Luo Binghe can come back here, to the office of jewels he failed to get - to Shen Yuan. 

Next time, Luo Binghe won’t fail.

[ellecdc]

The Drink Snob

mafia!Remus Lupin x fem!reader | 3200 words

p1 // p2 // p3 // p4

CW: mentions of spiked drink (no one drinks it), reference to past spiked drinks, complaining about misogyny, bad reputation of American tourists in the UK (I'm sorry!)

The short of it was: it had been a long day.

The long of it though, by God, was that you really, really needed a drink.

You got to your favourite pub which was only a brisk 7-minute walk from the university; a tiny, hole-in-the-wall Irish pub which probably had several thousand identical pubs lined across the UK but that didn’t matter, dammit, because this one was special – this one was yours. You chuckled at the irony that you had moved half-way across the world to England only to sit yourself in an Irish chain pub that you’d likely be able to find back home a mere 6000 kilometers away.

You relished the feel of the warm air hitting your rosy cheeks after marching your ass down to the pub in the biting wind in naught but a long coat and a scarf. The warm air stung but in all the best ways as you shucked off your outer-layers and plopped down on a stool by the bar, unawares of anyone else within your vicinity other than the bartender promised to serve you your drinks.

“Alright there, Lass? What can I get for ye?” The fellow asked and you could have kissed him right then and there.

“Can I have a negroni and your tallest pint please.” You asked, hoping the desperation in your voice wasn’t noticeable – the fact that the bartender didn’t comment on the odd combination of drinks let you know that is was noticeable. No matter – you were desperate, what did you care?

Turns out you should have cared more.

“I’m sorry but I must tell you, that is an awful combination of drinks.” A lilting voice came from your left side. You groaned audibly and held your hands up to your temples like blinders to avoid even looking at the voice who dared to speak to you after such a day.

“S’pose its good nobody asked you then.” You muttered darkly. You didn’t make a habit of speaking to people this way often – people already spent enough of your time in the UK mistaking you for an American on account of your accent anyway, you needn’t add fuel to the fire by adding to an already bad reputation.

“Please tell me that you’re ordering for a friend. You’ve surely just ordered for someone who’s meeting you here?”

You knew better – you really did. You don’t let strange men in bars know that you’re alone; make them believe someone could show up to save you at any minute. But dammit, you’ve been fending off jackasses all day – what’s one more?

“Apparently, I live to disappoint men, sir, so no – both drinks are for me. Is that quite alright with you? I didn’t realize I had to pass this decision by the board.” You spat, finally turning your what you were sure was a burning gaze to this mystery guy on a stool to your left.

You hesitated in your ire for a moment: the man was quite a bit larger than you had pictured in your mind – not large in a particularly broad way but the man seemed to be excruciatingly tall; he sat basically spilling off his stool, while still managing to look elegant in doing so. He was dressed sharply but not in a way that made him stand out – respectable but forgettable, he blended into this bar well. Or he would if he hadn’t been so fucking handsome.

He had warm, honey-coloured curls that seemed to artfully fall in front of his face, and eyes to match. You’d never seen amber coloured eyes before, but you couldn’t seem to pull your gaze away from them. You did – by god you did – because the rest of the man was too enticing not too. He had a chunk missing out of his left eyebrow which was arched mischievously at what you assumed was your attitude with him, and his crooked smirk matched. He had a few scars littering his face – most were small, but there was one large one that crossed the bridge of his nose, and another nick on the right of his upper lip that may have continued onto his lower, but you didn’t want to get caught staring at his mouth. And of course, of-fucking-course he’d have a dimple. Why wouldn’t he? Could this day get any worse.

“What was the thought process, then?” He asked, his smirk growing deeper.

“What?” You guffawed. He couldn’t seriously be doing this; people didn’t do this, right?

He gestured between the two drinks sat in front of you with his own – a rum and coke if you guessed correctly. “Why those drinks, specifically? They don’t exactly pair well together.”  

You stared dumbly at this hot, audacious man. You hoped he’d decide you weren't worth the breath and move along. He only stared back at you.

“There wasn’t any.”

“Hm?” He queried.

“There wasn’t any. Thought process, I mean.” You muttered, taking a sip of the negroni. “I like both drinks – usually separately, but I’ve been dreaming about getting my ass down here since practically 9:30 this morning and I couldn’t choose which I wanted first and I knew that I planned on getting at least a little bit tipsy in order to pretend I didn’t have a completely mind-fucking day so I thought ‘fuck it, I’ll order both’ and I thought since it was no one’s business but my own what I put into my body that I could get away with it but clearly, I was wrong.” You felt winded after your mini rant as you looked back at the man. He seemed genuinely entertained at your story, though his eyes grew a bit softer.

“Thinking of drinking at 9:30 am, hm?” He pondered out loud. “You know, that’s usually the sign of a problem; one might call it alcoholism.”

You barked a laugh. “Yeah, you call it alcoholism, I call it Gilderoy Lockhart.”

“Ah, so boy-problems then, is it?” He asked in a laugh.

You shot him a warning look. “It is not like that.”

“I didn’t mean to offend.” He offered with his hands in the air in mock surrender. “Tell me what it’s like then.”

You sighed dramatically. “It’s really not that big of a deal, I’m just mad about stuff at school.”

“Ah, you’re a student, then?”

“PhD candidate, but technically, yes.” You offered, downing the rest of the negroni.

“Very neat. What’s your focus?” He asked again as you began sipping on your pint, trying not to grimace at the change in drink. You're sure you failed.

“Music.”

“Hm, I didn’t know one could get a PhD in music.” He queried.

“Music theory, but yeah.” You offered, moving your drink back and forth between your hands.

“And that brought you here? To England? Why not stay in Canada – if that’s where you’re from, pardon my assumption.” He quickly apologized.

You smirked at his correct assumption – thankful that you didn’t come off ‘too American’ today.

“She goes wherever the wind takes her.”

Your statement was met with silence, so you turned to see the man had frozen in his movements and stared at you incredulously.

“Are-are you quoting Disney movies to me?”

“So, you did get the reference.”

“I did, I just fail to see how Pocahontas relates to a PhD program in England on music theory.” He mutters, looking up at you from the rim of his drink.

“I finished my Masters, then the wind changed.” You offered with a shrug, “It brought me here.”

He seemed to study you for a few moments before coming to the conclusion that you weren't going to elaborate further. “And what does this Gabriel fellow have to do with the winds of musical theory?”

You snorted indelicately. “Nothing. He just, I don’t know, it sounds stupid now that I try to say it out loud.”

“None of that, now.” The man said gently with the same smirk on his face, “a smart girl like you doesn’t strike me as the type to overreact to male foolishness.”

He seemed honestly interested in your answer, at least, the most interested anyone has ever seemed in your ramblings about your toe headed fellow PhD’er. You tried facetime’ing your friends from home about him many-a-times before, and they listen but they don't get it. And your schedules don’t align and with the time-difference one of you is always either just waking up or going to bed. But this random, handsome guy in your bar making fun of your drinks has done nothing but listen so far and you really wanted to get it off your chest.

So, you did.

You told him how your morning started terribly as you ripped a hole in your stockings and only noticed once you got to campus and you usually don’t dress this formally to campus, but you were guest lecturing for Minerva and you know professors didn’t technically have a dress code, but she always looked well put together so, dammit, so were you. You explained that your mother always was the superstitious type and had you carry an emergency pair on you at all times, so you were thankfully able to change, but only after you spilled coffee on your blazer and had to shrug that off for the day and the lecture halls are ridiculously cold always; you know these stone buildings were built before electricity but surely with the great minds this school has churned out, they could find a way to keep the warm air in and cold drafts out?

And if all that hadn’t been bad enough, the other PhD candidate working under McGonagall is this absolute bell-end that you're almost positive has plagiarized half of his written work because everything he spews is absolute nonsense. He’s rude, and condescending, and spoke over you throughout all of your lectures to wax poetic about different Opera’s he’s performed in across the world - that you swear to God you will fact-check one of these days - that had absolutely nothing to do with the course content. And then, and then, he had the audacity to suggest you were only here because the school was required to accept a minimum number of foreign students and since you were, quote, just a woman, you also checked off their minority requirements too.

“People don’t get accepted here because of their nationality or their gender or their status as a minority. They’re supposed to get here because they’re good.” You muttered, finishing your pint you hadn’t realized you had guzzled during your rant

“And how’d Gavin get in, then?” He asked. You choked on the last of your beer.

“Fucked if I know.” You sighed.

A few more pints were placed in front of you as you continued to rant about the ins and outs of being a scholar in the world of music [for Christ’s sake, what was I thinking? I’ll never work a day in my life.] The man interrupting only to say that switching back to liquor would be a choice you would regret in the morning, and who were you to argue?

And he listened. He scoffed at some parts when you quoted Gilderoy suggesting something ridiculously altruistic that he’d done for the less fortunate while being nothing but condescending, he sprinkled in a few you’re kidding me’s, and even asked you to repeat something he couldn’t fathom the first time.

“See? I knew it. A smart girl like you wouldn’t overreact like that. Sounds like you’re perfectly justified in your ire.” He said.

You hummed as you finished your last pint. You felt thoroughly warm and heavy which was your intention of coming to the pub in the first place. You looked over to notice that the man – whose name you still hadn’t got – was still holding the same drink he had when you first arrived.

“Who are you here waiting for, then?” You asked him.

He looked confused for a moment. “How do you know I wasn’t just in desperate need of a drink myself?”

You nodded toward his still half-full cup in his hand. “Because you really haven’t been drinking.”

He narrowed his eyes and smirked at you. “Observant, aren’t you? Clever girl.” You rolled your eyes at the compliment.

“I was supposed to meet a business associate, actually.” He offered as he looked behind you towards the bar door. You turned to take in the rest of the bar yourself; it didn’t seem like the sort of place one would meet a business associate. The bar was dimly lit and somewhat claustrophobic; it didn’t offer a lot of privacy to talk business. You liked it because it was small - you’d be able to see everyone who was currently in the building with one sweep of your gaze save those who may be in the washrooms, and you could see out onto the street from your seat at the bar.

“I think it might be safe to say they stood you up.” You offered with a smirk as you turned to look back at him, only to find him already looking at you.

“I think you might be right.” He offered, looking you up and down.

You couldn’t help but admit he was quite attractive – and not just in his honey-blond curls and mischievous smirk and long limbs way, but he seemed clever, smart, and clearly he was a good listener. You sort of hoped he’d offer you his name, maybe even his number. You wouldn’t mind waiting around for a business associate of his with him again sometime.

You had no such luck.

He began to stand with an expression that bordered regret crossing his face.

“It appears I must be off.” He offered with a sad smirk as he placed some bills down on the table. You weren't quite familiar with the bills in the UK yet, but it seemed like an awful lot of money for the one drink he had at the bar that was still unfinished. You took notice of said drink as you came to this conclusion and got a weird feeling in your gut as he took the drink by the rim and brought it to his lips.

“Wait!” You said as you grabbed his arm. He tensed immediately and you pulled your hand away as if it burned. “I’m sorry. Just, is that the same drink you had when I first arrived?”

He looked from the drink back to you with furrowed brows. “Yes, why?”

You pointed to the drink he still held in his hand. “It’s old.”

He smirked. “Are you a drink snob, miss orders-two-incompatable-drinks-together-and-drinks-them-at-the-same-time?” You rolled your eyes and snatched the drink out of his hand as he brought it to his lips once again, which earned you an indignant ‘oi!’

“No, you berk, what I mean is, this drink is old. It’s warm to the touch, the ice has all melted and it should be as flat as a board but it’s bubbling, like, a lot.” You said as you held it in front of his eyes. He watched you for a few moments before you continued.

“It looks like someone put something in it.”

His gaze shot back to his drink where, sure enough, his should-be-flat diet coke was fizzing wildly as it began to turn a slightly murky shade.

You watched as he gently plucked the drink from your hand and casually put it back down on the bar and shrugged on his jacket.

“It appears you’re right.” He said in monotone. “Looks like we both ought to take our leave, hm?”

You nodded and followed suit; replacing your jacket and scarf you had ripped off unceremoniously as you had entered and headed for the door. The alcohol made you wobble for but a moment, but you were quickly righted by a gentle hand pressed to your lower back. Mortified, you put your best foot forward and marched out the door, hoping your embarrassment wasn't to evident in your cheeks.

You had to admit, you were beginning to panic. Why were you trusting this man? You had spent the last – you checked your watch – nearly two hours talking to this man whose name you still don’t know completely unaware of what was happening around you, and it turned out that there was someone here drugging drinks.

What if it’s him? An unhelpful part of your brain supplied. Why would he spike his own drink and then almost drink it? You argued back.

“You should be more careful.” You offered in what you had hoped to be a playful manner, but it came out strained. “Do you know of any reason why someone may want to spike your drink?”

He seemed to consider your question as you both walked somewhat briskly down the busy street to the subway station.

“No reason that would be suitable to share in the presence of a lady, I’m afraid.” He offered with a wink, leaning down slightly with his hands in his pocket. This answer didn’t make you feel any better.

“Any particular reason why you’re familiar with the signs of a spiked drink?” He offered back.

“I have a feeling most girls would be able to answer that.”

“Hm, perhaps. But I do not believe all would be as quick to catch it as you were.”

You didn’t answer him; you decided you had shared more than enough with this stranger tonight, and you were officially feeling all sorts of uncomfortable with the situation. You were mostly uncomfortable with how not uncomfortable you felt. It felt easy, walking with this stranger, as if you’ve been walking down dreary streets of London together for ages and this was just another Tuesday.

He stopped suddenly and flagged a taxi. You scowled at how quickly a cab stopped for him and his long as arms.

“Here, it’s too muggy for such a lady to brave the underground.” He offered as he opened the door. You began to protest, you had a tube pass through school for a reason, but his hand was on your lower back again as he gently led you into the car and closed the door before sticking his head in the window of the front passenger seat and tossing a handful of bills at the driver.

“Anywhere she wants to go.” He said, stepping back to the middle of the sidewalk and waving you off.

Between the alcohol, your nerves and being disarmed by the attractiveness of this man, you simply spouted the address of your flat to the driver and turned your face forward. The whole evening seemed otherworldly – like you were missing a big chunk of information of what happened tonight, even though you could account for every minute of it.

Your suspicions would have been proven correct if you had turned around to see your mystery man again, who was now accompanied by two other similarly dressed men - one with an unruly mop of brown curls and a shorter man with long black hair tied back haphazardly - who began chasing a fourth man in earnest down the street in the opposite direction.

Continue to part two here.

[sexiestpodcastcharacter]

Sexiest Podcast Character — Unscripted Bracket — Round 5

Propaganda

Glenn Close (Dungeons & Daddies):

#Propaganda for Glenn Close: one of the other PCs mentions multiple times how hot he is #Actually several characters point it out but especially Henry #Also the only person in a podcast that has to put a disclaimer about not being a BDSM podcast to have had sex during the course of the show

Young hot rocker dilf

Loyal to his dead wife <3

Does in fact smoke weed

BARD!! HES A BARD. HE WAS LEAD GUITAR IN HIS BAND (that he was kicked out of)

His band was a Christmas cover band btw.

Literally the fandom had hot Glenn summer which consisted of drawing him being incredibly hot and sexy

Anti government (ofc)

Kind of cringefail (Disney adult) (was on dilfs of disneyland)

Young and sexy not your style? Then how about HIM AFTER YEARS LOCKED IN A TIME PRISON WITH A DAMN HANNIBAL MASK ??

Lost an eye and wears a fucking eyepatch

One incredibly buff arm

Has a pet rat named after his son <3

Immeasurable amounts of trauma in this man- becomes progressively more unhinged

OH OLD HUMAN BARD ISNT CUTTING IT? FINE

HE BECOMES A FUCKING DEMON

A COOL HOT ONE-EYED DEMON WHO WANTS TO KILL HIS DAD (also sexy)

HE CANONICALLY ENDS CHRISTIAN HELL VIA CHRISTMAS

IS ALSO WAY OVERLEVELED

Becomes a demon hunter for the rest of his existence

Also nonwhite !!! We are done with cringefail whiteboys !!!!!!!!!

I can’t put into words ok just know he is the best plz love him.

Okay but Glenn made a minivan cum by talking to her so

HE HAS A BOOK THAT HE MARKS X’S AND CHECKS FOR EVERY DAY TO SEE IF THAT DAY WAS A SUCCESS OR NOT. TO SEE IF HE DID GOOD THAT DAY. ITS ALMOST ENTIRELY X’S. HE WAS CUCKED OUT OF A SON. AND A DEAD WIFE. HE DIDN’T EVEN GET TO KILL HIS DAD IN REVENGE. There’s absolutely nothing going for him except his sex appeal in his life. Nobody he loved remembers him. He lost his eye. All he has is a pet rat and friends who admit they don’t really like him that much. He was kicked out of his own band. The band was named after him. He was kicked out of the Glenn Close trio. All he could do was deez nuts the big bad and be sexy. If nothing else, then pity him. Look in his eyes. Look at his heart and soul. He did not do the BDSM episode for this I’ll tell you what. Do this for my his sake. Do it for Nick Jr, who needs the prize money to pay for his rat snacks. Do it for his son. For Morgan. Ganbatte.

Glenn is the goofiest sexiest character there is and I will die on this hill! I will ride into battle for him! what Dndads created is truly unique and Glenn is a key part of that and for that he deserves to win. I said it before and I'll say it again - GLENN SWEEEEEP

Can we talk about how he says ‘baby’ casually? Like he just calls people that?? That’s HOT. THAT IS HOT!! He’s also bilingual and knows Japanese!!!! He’s a big dumb idiot with a lot of charisma!!!!!! HE WORKED AT A BDSM PLACE FOR TWO SEPARATE ONE SHOTS. HES SO SAD BUT PLAYS IT OFF LIKE HE’S CHILL ALL THE TIME!! HE DOESN’T THINK OF HIMSELF AS SINGLE BECAUSE HE DIDN’T DIVORCE HIS DEAD WIFE!!! He’s like.. the perfect guy. We need this win.

I’d also like to add the fact I made this. Which is the first 11 episodes edited to (almost) only have Glenn in them <3 which is a level of insanity I hope to reiterate. These took hours to make. I wouldn’t do that for anyone else.

Mod Note: While I will still take "bad dads are sexy" propaganda and "bad dads aren't sexy" anti-propaganda, I kindly request no more discussion on whether or not he was a bad father. This is a sexypoll, not a parentingpoll. If you see a post you strongly disagree with, you can just not reblog it.

Mod Note 2: This tournament is about fictional podcast characters. Please do not vote for the real actress Glenn Close.

Amber Gris (The Adventure Zone: Ethersea):

Middle aged woman who punches sharks to death. My hero

If you love me you'll vote for amber gris I swear to everything holy on earth amen

Amber is butch, instant win

Amber Gris has a negative charisma modifier and she pissed her pants on purpose in order to trick a guard and knock him out. She tied up a dude. She once killed an evil magic shark (they're out for murder. not like real sharks) by punching it and then picked it up and smashed it into another shark, also killing it. She talks in a southern accent. She calls people guppy because it indicates a lack of respect. She has a big pair of magical green arms that come from her stomach. She got a fancy jacket and immediately ripped its sleeves off. She has a gay thing going on with one of the political leaders in the city. She gets in fights with people and doesnt do vulnerability and tries to lay low and not get in any social trouble she doesn't have to. She jumped through a portal into a new world because she could. She's now the god of said world, alone with only afformentioned political leader, who was previously possessed and she had to fight. She spends her time in a bar called the Cloaca. She calls people she doesn't like claspers, because it means shark penis. She and her friend, an old man named Uncle Joshy, sneak attack each other and yell VIBE CHECK! She tries to talk fancy to impress people and she's really bad at it (verily).

She’s everything and more. She’s irreverent. She punches sharks for a living. She becomes God. What more do you need in a butch.

amber gris propaganda: she is straightup the physical embodiment of "women want me, fish fear me." also she's an appalachian post apocalyptic sea captain. that's just objectively cool.

AMBER GRIS IS PUNCHES SHARKS AND IS (one of) THE MOST BADASS BLACK WOMEN PCS IN DND SHOWS IVE EVER SEEN. SHES INCREDIBLE AND A WIN FOR DYKES EVERYWHERE

amber's creator said she was based off of the type of working-class woman you commonly see in appalachia where "this is the sort of woman that you see walking past CVS, and you know that a truck could hit her and it would just split around her as she continued to go pick up whatever she had to do that day." and that's pretty hot

guys Amber becomes lesbian god of the new world with her childhood “”friend””

#amber gris is LITERALLY a middle-aged butch #she would win this entire tournament in a just world

Last time Amber got horny was when she killed that shark

"it was a savage bummer though, don't-- trust me, there's nothing that great about a history. You know? I got one. What did I do, killed a bunch of sharks? Last time I got horny, god and christ I can't even tell you-- well, it was when I killed that shark. But! Hey. We're all just kinda figuring it out."

Moonshine Cybin (Not Another D&D Podcast: Bahumia):

She's a hot elf with mushrooms growing on her. She has 1 level of barbarian. She's bisexual. She shapeshifted into a dragon and ate a god.

how tf does the post not mention Moonshine’s giant boobs her greatest asset

Moonshine has canonically gone down on a woman for a solid hour without asking for anything in return. Moonshine edged a dryad just by kissing them. Moonshine faced down someone being controlled to kill everyone in his path and told him if he still wanted to hurt her, she would take his blows as a friend. Moonshine makes jambalaya for her family and friends. Moonshine mispronounced someone’s name for a month and that woman still wanted to hook up with Moonshine. These are just a few of the reasons why Moonshine is sexy.

shes illiterate

canonically huffs dirty water from a bong

has big tatas

wears a belly chain with a demon trapped in it

almost became the queen of hell

ate a god

turned into a pregnant moose & gave birth

The woman she went down on for an hour asking nothing in return is still hung up on her, 200 years later. Moonshine is unmatched

To be clear the woman whose name Moonshine mispronounced for a month and then hooked up with is the same woman she went down on for an hour, and the same woman who is still flustered over her 200 years later. The rizz is unparalleled. She’s also incredibly kind and accepting of others, and goes out of her way to bolster her friends. The party always requests one big bed.

moonshine cybin is a druid who learned counterspell through sheer force of will. moonshine cybin turned one of the four horsemen of the apocalypse into a dolphin, flew him 60 feet up into the air, dropped him on the ground, and then spit spores into his face to kill him. moonshine cybin turned into a dragon and bit the head off of a double god. moonshine cybin was willing to confine herself to an eternal hell to save the world. moonshine cybin is a dragon rider. you know what you must do.

Amber and Moonshine Together

Look at them. They should not have to fight when they could be gay instead. Imagine the power they would have combined... Every lesbian in a hundred mile radius of the post would swoon. It may be an odd alliance, but from an Ethersea fan to Bahumia fans, i believe this will strengthen both our odds. I have always been insane about Amber Gris but through this poll I have also learned about Moonshine and come to love her too. Take my hand... We can do this together...

OKAY HEAR ME OUT MOONSHINE AND AMBER WOULD GET ALONG SO WELL

appalachian sapphic solidarity!

Art of Amber and Moonshine from @pirateknight.

[floueris]

Types of disney princes / male leads *ੈ✩‧₊˚

heeseung

nick wilde (from zootopia) okay not unexpected like have you seen heeseung, sooo foxy meow, jokes aside. I think they are alike because as we all know heeseung is a very flirty person, which resonates with nick in the earlier part of zootopia when he constantly teases Judy and “uses her words against her” and I think the method of teasing is also really similar, but ofc!! the growth, when both nick and judy planned the scheme to get bellweather caught was really smart. And you know that part that nick was there with judy while she cried ? exactly like heeseung, he would always be there for you when you need someone there and always there to make you feel better and gives you a very huge sense of comfort

jay

prince eric (from the little mermaid) c’mon guys… jay is our classic gentleman, like how eric was with ariel, he would always treat people, especially ladies with utmost respect ( guys I CANT SHUT UP BUT LIKE HAVE YOU GUYS SEEN THE VIDEO OF JAY SAYING “ ladies, one at a time, don’t push please” BYE I DIED I CANT SHNDNSNDNSNNANDNSNSB) anyways I digressed but like Jay is the most perfect gentleman bf everrrrr like yk that one scene that is where Eric js kissed Ariel sooo deeply, SOOO JAY CODED BYEEE AN ULTIMATE SWEETHEART

jake

flynn ryder … (from tangled) CMON YALL SAW THAT COMING OKAY…..Flynn Ryder is soooo flirty like jake like BYEEEE, also THAT NOSEEE !!! Both of them have fantastic noses, also another reason why they are similar is also because Flynn was protecting rapunzel even when he was severely injured which was very very jake core to me because jake always puts you first before anything even if he is “in pain “ also jake is a very charismatic person and like Flynn he is able to get out of trouble or get something through him sweet talking

Sunghoon

milo thatch (from the Atlantis the lost empire) milo is a very gentle and intelligent person, very sunghoon-esqe NO??? personally I think sunghoon is a very goofy person okay, similar to milo, he fights for what he thinks is right. Also my boy is a simp!! and both sunghoon and Milo are like sooo loser stuck in a hot body core, and ngl both of them look really good in glasses saur 😣

Sunoo

Hercules (from Hercules lol) anyways a lil “unexpected “ because sunoo looks more feminine but Hercules was a very gentle character which suits sunoo very well because I think that although sunoo is very gentle which makes the girlies more comfy w him, he also has a very manly streak in him, and personally I think he’s super brave and kind, just like Hercules. Maybe a lil himbo core? But also not really, sunoos just a really sweet guy

Jungwon

tadashi hamada (from big hero 6) GUYS YOU CANT TELL ME JUNGWON DOESNT LOOK LIKE HIM LIKE HELLOOOOO, anyways both of them are smart, innovative and have very kind souls (which imo is soooo attractive gbye) and also because tadashi made baymax just to take care of hiro if he’s not there anymore (GBYE MY HEART CANT TAKE THIS) also I think jungwon is a very self sacrificing person, always trying to sacrifice himself to help others yk, which can be good and bad. Lastly, jungwon is sooo reliable just like tadashi

riki

NAVEEEENNNNNNN (from princess and the frog) like the banter ?! the growth, everything!!! the reason why I think riki is like naveen is because personality wise they seem really similar like the banter and teasing first and foremost and just how carefree both of them are. secondly, it’s also about how naveen grew throughout the movie, from someone who didn’t care about anyone but himself to learning how to adapt and think of other people. obviously im not saying that riki doesn’t care about anyone but himself but in the way that we say riki grew up since i land days until now, and we can see like naveen, how much he has grown as a person!!!! also I will die on this hill that riki treats his gf like a kweeeennnnn like I’m not even joking, he wants nothing but the best for you hehehe and would treat you like a queen

—-

a/n: BYE GUYS I LOVE THIS SMMM IM LIKE SUCH A BIG DISNEY FAN BYE SNMSNDNSNS I LOVEEEE DISNEY SMSMSMSMS THIS WAS SOO CUTE HOPE YALL LIKE IT TEWWW SARANGHAEEEEE !!! LMK HOW I DIDDDD MEOWWWW

[awriterinthenight]

"Aren't you a bit young to be a doctor" - Anthony Lockwood

requested: Anonymous

words: 2198

warnings: mentions of murder and being shot, and Anthony being absolutely crazy in love and kissing

summary: reader is a doctor with no abilities, who meets Lockwood one night, and they grow close together

I had always wanted to be a doctor, so I was more than happy to accept an internship helping out injured agents. My family was good friends with inspector Barnes so it wasn't hard for him to find a way for me to start practicing to be a doctor. It was relatively easy, mostly just patching up scrapes and cuts, sometimes small burns.

It was a fairly normal night, only one or two injured having to be treated, or at least it was until three agents walked in. They seemed to be in rough shape. They were all sent to different rooms to be treated, the girl only having minor scrapes, and the boy with glasses had a few cuts too.

The boy with the suit seemed to have the worst injuries. He had a cut down his left arm ending just before his elbow. I walked into the room, and started to grab some supplies.

"Hi, I'm Y/N. Can you tell me what happened that you ended up getting a cut like that?" I ask, grabbing the rubbing alcohol and bandages.

He smiled softly, "Aren't you a bit young to be a doctor, not there's anything wring with that, I'm just curious," he says, "I got this from my colleague getting spooked by a ghost and when she swung her rapier she nicked my arm," he explains, placing his jacket next to him.

I nod, "Well I'm more of an intern, but I'm good at what I do I can assure you," I tell him, placing down my supplies, "And that looks a lot more severe than a small nick, can you take your shirt off?" I ask, since I need him to so I can clean his wound.

He smirks, "But we've only just met," he jokes sarcastically, as he starts to unbutton his shirt.

I rolled my eyes, ignoring his comment, "So what was your case about?" I ask, trying to distract him from the pain from the rubbing alcohol.

"Well we were investigating this house some old lady was living in. She said she was hearing wailing at night, and she wanted us to investigate," he says, wincing a bit, but I hum in response for him to carry on, "My other colleague, George, spent two days studying every bit of information, so we were thoroughly prepared. Or, at least we thought we were. Turns out we missed a death in all of our reports. There was a lady who was murdered there. Her spirit was attached to this jewelry box, which took us a while to find. This wasn't our best night, I have to admit," he says, chuckling lightly.

I finish cleaning his wound as he finishes his story, "Seems like you've had quite a night," I say, to which he nods, "Good news and a bit of bad news. Good news, your cut should be fine and not get infected, but bad news, you're gonna need stitches," I say, changing out my gloves for new ones and grabbing more supplies.

"And I thought today couldn't get any worse," he says, his voice full of sarcasm.

I sigh softly, "It won't be too bad, I promise," I reassure him, prepping the area, "Why don't you tell me something nice to distract yourself," I suggest to help him distract himself.

He smiles, saying, "You know I didn't tell you my name, it's Anthony, but you can just call me Lockwood," he says, watching me as I stitch his wound.

I nod, "That's a nice name, I'm guessing you're Anthony Lockwood," I say, continuing to work.

Surprised that I recognize his name he asks, "I know my agency had quite the reputation, but I didn't think you would recognize my name."

Working on the second stitch I say, "It's not that I recognize you from your agency's reputation, it's more from your own. My family is close with inspector Barnes, so he tells us stuff. He complains about you a lot, you know."

"I think deep down I'm one of his favorite people," he jokes, turning his head to look at the wound as I stitch it up.

I see him look, and use my left hand to push his chin, so he's looking away from it, "I can promise you that looking at it will only make it worse. Just keep talking, I'm almost done, just one stitch," I tell him, finishing up.

He looks like he's in thought before asking, "So Y/N, how do you take your tea?"

I chuckle softly, "Chamomile, with a bit of honey and sugar, why do you ask?" I question, as I finish up and start cleaning up.

He shrugs, "Incase I come here again, the least I can do is bring you tea," he says, smiling brightly at me.

"Well you're clear to go, and I do hope to not see you again, at least not here," I say, taking my gloves off, as he stands up and goes to leave. I follow out behind him as he keeps the door open for me, "Now for any pain, any over the counter pain meds should work, and make sure to rest. I'm serious about that, no cases for at least a week, and even then take it easy," I tell him.

He smirks, "Alright then Doc, I'll make sure to follow that," he says, walking away.

***

(Anthony's POV)

It had been almost a week since my visit with Y/N, but I kept thinking about her.

Everything about her was alluring. From our close proximity when she was bandaging my arm, to the way her hair fell, or even the way her face looked, concentrated on her work. My eyes stayed on her the whole time. It felt like I was stuck, but never wanted to leave that state. As if I were to look away I might never see her the same again.

I followed every word she said like it was bound to my soul. I stayed off cases for a little bit, shocking even George and Lucy, since they had tried many times before, but I never listened till now.

It had been about three weeks since I last saw her. When I went to get my stitches removed they told me she only works nights. So when I started to work cases again I wasn't purposefully getting hurt, or at least that's what I told everyone.

After a particular case I was left with a cut across my neck from a piece of glass. Luckily for me she was working that night, and I once again ended up getting my wound dressed by her.

She sighed, but couldn't hide her effortlessly soft smile that made me want to melt right there, "I thought I told you not to show up here again," she says, teasing me.

"I just couldn't stay away from you I guess," I say, trying to flirt with her a bit. She just shakes her head smiling 'god how I wish I could kiss that smile till her lips are sore' I think, before catching myself, and try to act normal.

She cleans my wound, her careful touch being the only thing I can feel, her being the only thing I can see, her perfume making me wish it was all I could smell for the rest of my life, her beautiful voice from heaven being the only thing I want to hear till my death. All I can think about is her.

I don't even notice when she finished, and is talking to me, "So you want- hey, are you listening to me," she teases, snapping me out of my trance.

"I-I...sorry, long night, started to zone out," I say, trying to cover up how I was looking at her. I think I'd rather die knowing she was the last person I saw, than to ever look away from her.

She breathed out a laugh, 'how I wish to be the one to make her laugh everyday' I think.

"Well what I was saying was that basic pain meds will work fine if it hurts, and to make sure to ice it, other than that you're free to go," she told, smiling as she opened the door. But before I could leave she grabbed my arm stopping me. Her touch felt like being blessed by a goddess.

"Let's not make your visits here a normal thing, ok. I don't need you getting hurt so often," she says, generally concerned for me.

I smile softly at her, "I promise, love," I say, giving her the nickname which makes her smile. I would call her 'love' 'darling' maybe even 'mine' one day, just see her smile like that till I can't remember her any other way.

I might've lied a bit when I promised her our visits wouldn't become normal. But I truly couldn't stay away from her. Every once in a while I would get injured and my first thought wasn't even 'am I ok' it was always 'I hope she's working today' and the thought would make me smile through the pain.

That was always my thought, except for once, when I got shot.

***

I heard what happened at the graveyard and immediately rushed to help out. I heard Anthony was there, but didn't see him making me a bit worried.

He started to let me call him Anthony, and I let him call me anything from 'love' to 'darling' to 'Doc' when he was teasing me. We'd grown close through our time together, and I couldn't help start to feel things for him.

I was tending to a Fittes agent when I was being dragged over to help with someone who apparently got shot. It was like a feeling no matter how hard I tried I couldn't shake. It was Anthony. He would be reckless enough to accidentally get shot, and he was always in some sort of trouble.

When I arrived to the ambulance I saw Anthony laying there as they tended to his shoulder. They took the bullet out and cleaned up the wound a bit. I stitched it close since I was the best at it. He started to wake up around when I had finished. Most of the workers had left, only one or two cleaning up the ambulance.

Anthony groaned in pain as he sat up. I helped him up, as he started to stand to get blood flow back through his body. We were silent for a little bit before I told him I was gonna grab a sling for him.

When I came back he was sitting on the edge of the ambulance. I stood in front of him, looming over him as I helped him get the sling on.

I took a deep breath, shaking my head before saying, "Anthony, how could you do this. I know how reckless you are, but this. This is a ne-" before he cuts me off.

"You can yell at me, you can berate me, you can say whatever you want till I'm in my grave, but please do so later. Right now I just want to be glad I'm here with you," he confesses, his hand moving to land on the back of my thigh to keep me in place as he moved me to be in between his legs.

I sigh, feeling content to know he's mostly ok, and is here able to hold me. "Alright then Anthony, I promise I will later," I say, running a hand through his hair.

He smiles up at me, "Tonight was...something else and it had me thinking. Life is a bit too short to not say everything you want to, you know," he says.

I nod, "Okay, where are you going with this, did you hit your head too," I joke, a bit nervous.

He shakes his head at me, "No, its just that," he pauses, looking at me like I'm the most precious person in the world, "There's so much I want to tell you. Like how I want to take you on the most amazing dates, or how I want you to be at Portland Row everyday, how I want to wake up to you right next to me, how I want to call you 'my darling' or 'my love' or anyway where your mine or where I'm yours. But, mostly I just want to tell you how much I love you, and want to kiss you right now," he confesses, flushed and breathing quickly.

I don't really know what to do besides following his words. I close the gap between us. My lips crash onto his with a passion that has been built up through our relationship. It takes everything in me to keep going till I have to pull away for air. But when I do I tell him, "I love you too Anthony, and I want to do all those things with you," I confess to him.

He smirks softly, "Then will you be my girlfriend too," he asks, hopeful in my answer.

"Of course," is all I mutter before my lips reconnect with his.

[minus-plus-zer0]

Vigilante Bakugou x Normal Reader Headcanons - Part 2

| Part 1 | ♡ Genre: Angst, fluff ending ♡ Pairing: Vigilante!Bakugou x Normal!Reader (I couldn't put the last post in bullet points like I normally do because it always glitches ;-;)

Bakugou avoided you, believing you liked Dynamight better.

He couldn't stand to hear you praise Dynamight and talk about how the hero was so much better than him. He couldn't show his face to you, knowing that you preferred his other side.

So Dynamight appeared more and more in your life as time went on, since that was the side you truly loved.

But it was killing Bakugou inside. He would really rather have you love him as one whole. He missed you so much during school hours. Bakugou was more grouchy, testy, and just not as responsive as before towards anyone. He couldn't even talk to you anymore knowing you preferred Dynamight. He didn't know what Bakugou did wrong.

You kept hearing about Bakugou's worsened behavior from your other classmates. This pushed you to reach out to Bakugou more, but he avoided you completely.

The more you chased after Bakugou, the more Dynamight would reach out to you and comfort you. He told you he'd do anything to keep you safe and watch over you. When you needed someone to share your life with, Dynamight was there instead of Bakugou.

But you couldn't easily forget your old best friend.

One day, a super villain incident broke out at your school. You were separated from your classmates, pushed to the side in the hallways as everyone ran past you. You didn't have anyone to protect you.

Little did you know, Bakugou was running over.

You wanted to contact Dynamight, but he wasn't picking up. You headed for the nearest safe zone while texting and calling the hero, hoping he'd pick up.

But the super villain caught you first, alone in the hallway. They rushed towards you to attack but someone sprinted past you and blasted them back. Several explosions flashed, filling the hallway with smoke until finally, the villain laid prone on the ground, defeated. Another figure emerged from the smoke.

It was Bakugou, who saved you in his civilian form.

Bakugou was so happy got here just in the nick of time, just like when he first saved you in that dark alleyway.

You're shocked to see him here. He's shocked that you caught him in the act.

Bakugou/Dynamight remained frozen as you ran up to hug him.

He started crying. You, on the other hand, were so glad he turned out okay. You feared he would've been hurt during the invasion.

Through his tears, Bakugou asked, "Why are you hugging me? Thought you liked Dynamight."

You kissed him, and that shocked him even more. But he didn't pull away, he'd never pull away.

"I love you, Bakugou," you said. "I thought you'd never have feelings for anyone. You were my platonic love as a friend, but since you're also Dynamight, I guess I love you in a different way as well."

"I've always loved you," he said, holding your face. "I can't believe you never knew. I thought you chose him over me."

You kiss him again, and it's like every kiss is healing him each time.

"I'm choosing the man who saved me, alright?"

"Alright," he said, finally smiling at you. "Take both sides of me, okay? Don't just take one or the other."

"I won't."

From now on, Bakugou would let you into both sides of his life. You couldn't allow him to walk this dangerous path alone, you'd help him from the sidelines every step of the way as his new sidekick. And he'd never let anyone hurt you, not for anything.

(This was meant to be posted weeks ago, but the original post glitched and I never got around to finishing this until now)

[averseunhinged]

hii! Just saw your promt post, and I was wondering if you could do either Jealous!Klaroline or Klaus comforting caroline after something bad happens to her? sorry if these are too bland 😭😭

hi! thanks for the prompt! i had a lot of fun with it. i'm not sure if this is what you had in mind, but i hope you like it. it ended up technically being both prompts in one.

cw for light angst, (kind of mild, i think) jealousy, klaus's issues, caroline's issues, death of a parent, grief, and it's pretty gooey by the end. we went the full-ass gamut in 2k words. no magic babies. very loose adherence to canon. title is from rock of gibraltar by nick cave & the bad seeds.

for the next thousand years

Caroline was wearing color again.

She'd draped herself in mourning black since she'd surprised him at Rousseau's nearly a year ago, still in her funeral dress with her severe hair barely mussed, but barefoot and ghastly bloodless, holding onto her humanity in a white-knuckled grip.

"My mom's dead," she had said, and he'd scooped her up as she collapsed. Cami had quickly ushered them out the back while Caroline began to weep. "How does anyone survive feeling this?" she'd sobbed into his neck as he carried her home.

How does anyone survive feeling this? he still wondered.

Caroline was in color again, a brick red cocktail dress, the close-fitting pencil skirt a demure knee length, but the scooped neckline was risqué. She was laughing and vibrant, witty and magnetic. No one she spoke with could take their eyes off her. She was a charming force of nature, and she'd spent the evening on his brother's arm.

Oh he wasn't stupid. He knew there was nothing going on. Caroline had gifted him with proud, beaming smiles, whenever he caught her eye, and a thousand years at one another's side let him easily read the encouraging looks Elijah had shot him, but there was an additional significance to them Klaus didn't understand.

Still, it was Elijah who ushered her around the room, making introduction after introduction, her hand tucked into his elbow, or his at the small of her back. Klaus could imagine what people thought of them. How charming they were. How perfect for each other. What a lovely couple.

The glass in his hand cracked. He slumped further down at his table in the corner. Rebekah had done a marvelous job fashioning a more modern version of a speakeasy in their home. The lights were warm and low and made everything seem soft-focus, and the crystal glittered under them. There was a live band playing and--

They were doing the damn foxtrot. He didn't know Caroline could foxtrot.

Maybe he should have guessed this would happen. She had been just a small-town cheerleader when they met. Nothing and no one in the grand scheme of things, but she'd still drawn his attention swiftly and irrevocably. He'd known she'd be transcendent once she made her way into the world. Only, he had thought he would be the one on the dancefloor with his arm around her waist.

He was being ridiculous of course. Even if Elijah had been a serious competitor for her affection, rather than an older brother enjoying needling the younger, Klaus wasn't doing himself any favors. He had experience in these matters after all. A long, sullen pout wasn't likely to steal her attention back. He needed to dredge up a bit of the charm and joie de vivre that made her halfway tolerate him in the first place, but the longer he lurked and watched, the more he felt on the verge of causing a scene. In this case, discretion truly was the better part of valor. He liberated a full bottle of bourbon and another tumbler from the catering staff and made a swift exit.

On his way out of the ballroom, he brushed past Camille and tried to do his best impression of someone who very much did not need to talk about his feelings. She saw the bottle of bourbon in his hand and the look on his face and groaned.

"I really don't want to play wise bartender tonight," she said, slightly tipsy.

He rolled his eyes. "So, don't."

"Okay," she agreed to his surprise. "You need to get your shit together."

"Excuse me?" he snapped.

"You didn't want the wise bartender. So, you get your friend, Cami, who is also friends with the source of your angst. I know more about what's going here than you seem to. This is supposed to be a special night, and you're being a dick."

Klaus continued his escape without acknowledging her. Occasionally, it was necessary to concede the last word, if one wanted to avoid eating one's friends.

Out on the balcony, he poured himself a drink and let the guilt gnaw at him. Cami was right about one thing. This was a special night. He wished he could undo this mood he found himself in, but the harder he tried, the more he risked sinking into certain violence. After the first glass, he left it on the table and went to lean on the balcony railing. He shut his eyes, breathed in the night air, and tried to let the sounds of his city unwind the chains around his spine.

The tap-tap-tap of high heels, divorced from the sounds of partygoers and merrymakers, on marble and then hardwood, pulled him out of his attempted meditation. He'd know the sound of her gait anywhere. This was the quick step of anticipation with a dash of nerves, rather than the sharp staccato of impatient annoyance.

"Did my brother run out of important people clamoring for an introduction?" he asked, directing his question toward the view the moment he smelled the sweet, seductive frangipani oil she'd recently begun using as a perfume.

"Oh boy," she muttered under her breath.

There was the delicate clink of glassware on the metal table. He smelled the crisp, heady scent of an excellent champagne before he heard the pour. A glass appeared under his nose, held by a perfectly manicured hand, nails painted gold just a touch paler than the wine. He took the glass from her and ducked his chin to hide the smile that threatened at the appearance of their thing. They touched their glasses together with a crystalline ping.

He made a thoughtful noise after the first sip. "Marie Ledru? I'm surprised we're serving that."

"We're not. I heard it was your favorite, so I got one out of the wine cellar earlier."

Wine cellar was dubious nomenclature for a dungeon where they also happened to store their spirits. He was shocked Caroline ventured down there. It had been left off the initial house tour, since the last thing she'd needed was to be assaulted by the scent of blood and death.

"Well, Elijah's just full of prodition tonight."

"I have no idea what that means," she admitted. "But it was Rebekah, actually. She practically had to draw me a map, because she made Cuvée Goulte sound like a cat choking, and I couldn't begin to guess how to spell that."

"Bekah's French has always been enthusiastic," he laughed into his glass, the bright effervescence of the wine working to lift his mood.

Or perhaps it was the company.

"I know I've been a total disaster since I showed up here," she said. He made a dissenting noise, but she steamrolled over him. "And I'm not exactly sorry about that. My mom deserved to be mourned, and I needed to do that somewhere," she trailed off as her voice tightened until it was barely audible.

He tried to observe her in his peripheral vision without making her feel studied. She was blinking rapidly, her head tilted back as she looked up at the sky. Light pollution made the stars nearly invisible, and the party had purposely been held on the night of the new moon, but she seemed to look beyond, far off to somewhere he couldn't begin to imagine. Lifting the glass to her nose, she breathed in slowly. Her eyes slipped closed. She smiled, small, but true.

She took a sip and held it, tasting it, before beginning again. "I needed to be somewhere no one would judge me for how I grieved. Whether I was doing it too fast or not fast enough. Too publicly or not publicly enough. If I cried as charmingly as Elena does. Mystic Falls is where I come from, and I'll always love it, but I can't spend the next however many years wondering if I'm living up to whatever they think I should be."

"I understand," he said quietly, with more compassion than he typically had, hoping the small undercurrent of disappointment was hidden from her.

"No," she said, and there was an edge of desperation to it that worried him. "I'm still messing it up. I know this wasn't what you had in mind. It hasn't exactly been the reunion you imagined."

She wasn't wrong, but she wasn't right, either. He'd wanted her to come to him when she was ready. Not just for him. He'd wanted her to be ready for herself. Ready to be who she truly was.

He leaned into her, resting his shoulder against hers. "Caroline--"

"I've been trying to be better," she continued before he could disrupt the point she was winding her way towards. "I've been spending a lot of time with Cami, because she gets how it feels to be totally alone in this one specific way. We have friends, sure, but no more family. Not just blood relatives. The real kind, who know everything about us and love us anyway."

It wasn't a notion he enjoyed thinking about. Whatever their disagreements might be, despite the way they irritated him ceaselessly, he held his siblings tight to his chest, hostages to his greed. Caroline had no such ties remaining, and he had no way of giving them back to her. Instead, he wrapped his arm around her, as though he was anchor enough to stop her from floating away.

She left her champagne on the edge of the balcony and burrowed into him, beneath the protective wing of his jacket. In heels, she was too tall to tuck herself under his chin the way Rebekah did when she was younger. Caroline wound an arm around his back and gripped his shirt hard enough to leave wrinkles. She cupped his neck in her other hand, fingers inching into his hair, and tucked her nose into his cheekbone, her forehead to his temple.

Klaus wanted to abandon his own champagne to hold her close, but couldn't bring himself to close the circuit. Instead, he took a sip, hardly tasting it around the distraction of the woman pressed against him.

"I know I've been useless since I got here," she whispered into the soft skin near his ear, her voice so very small, "and not at all the girl you wanted in Mystic Falls. Elijah was already helping me with the financial stuff; so, I asked him to help me learn the ropes in New Orleans, too. I wanted to--"

His glass toppled down into the garden below. It was a waste of fantastic champagne, but he couldn't bring himself to give a damn with her in his arms.

"--prove I belong here," she was still saying, even as he fluttered kisses onto her cheeks. "And I might not feel exactly like the same girl I was before, but I'm still the best parts of her. I'm still something. I'm still--"

"Everything." He pulled away just far enough to see the way the tears she fought were catching in the soot of her blackened lashes. "You're everything."

She looked at him as though he was both ripping her wounds open and sewing them closed. It's all for you, he'd told her once, and longed for a time when she'd accept the tribute he was offering. He'd never dreamed she'd give the same in return.

When she kissed him, it was like that day in the woods outside her hometown, with all the joy of reconnection and none of the sorrow of an imminent parting.

In a while, once they'd had their fill of soaking each other in, he'd take her back inside to their guests and show her off on the dancefloor. If there was anyone else who simply had to meet her, they’d best enjoy doing it with him attached like an additional appendage, because he wasn't letting her out of his arms again that night. Or for the next several days. Or perhaps ever, if she would allow it.

"Happy birthday, Caroline," he pledged against her lips.

How does anyone survive feeling this? she'd asked all those months ago.

Like this, sweetheart.

Exactly like this.