#just gotta ignore that irritating feeling of missing him it will not benefit me he will only hurt me and make me feel like I’m at fault

[hypmicdaydreams]

voice messages from afar w/ samatoki

-genre: fluff

-pairing: samatoki aohitsugi x gn!reader

-word count: 1.1k

"hey," a gruff voice resonates from your phone, the all too familiar voice of your boyfriend speaking, ha, he really wasn't all the best with intros, you can tell from the slight awkwardness in his tone. or perhaps he wasn't too keen on speaking into his phone amidst the emptiness of his hotel room. such an image was a tad entertaining the more you thought about it, really.

"just wanted to check up on ya, makin' sure you haven't died off without me there." you can't help but roll your eyes. you could do just fine without samatoki of course. you were thriving after all, kept busy by your work and the occasional sit-ins at the nearest cute café. and asides from the bouts of lonliness and touch-starvedness you felt, especially when you badly missed that dork's touch and warmth, you were doing just fine.

"you better be takin' care of yourself! i know how you like to just keep working and shit. you're too absorbed with it, i'm telling ya'!" damn, he caught you red-handed. you can't help but laugh, feeling a tad flustered at how well samatoki knew you and maybe a touch guilty for making him a little worried. well, it's not as if there was much else to do these days; being too concentrated on work certainly did give you a chance to stop thinking about your boyfriend and how much you missed him, deeply so. it came with its benefits, i suppose.

"you're eating the meals i prepped, right?" sigh, such a worrywart this guy. he certainly had prepared a few meals or recipes, knowing well how you probably wouldn't be cooking yourself, whether because you were busy or a bit lazy that day. that and, well, perhaps samatoki could be just a tad overbearing when it came to those he loved. you can't really complain too much though; his meals truly were delicious and warm, even after being heated up in that small microwave of yours. they still maintained that homecooked scent and taste, the perfect remedy after a long tiring day of chores and whatnot; your heart felt at ease and happy, able to smile and feel too warm inside thinking about samatoki. it did remind you of him. "i swear y/n don't make me come over there and kick your ass."

well, at least you could see him then.

you hear a tired sigh, one that makes the hair on your neck rise, as if you could feel his very breath right there on your skin. you didn't know until then just how much you had truly missed him, missed hearing his breaths as he laid right beside you in bed, a lullaby of your own; perhaps you were touch-starved after all. samatoki truly did seem exhausted, however, even when he wouldn't admit that, even to himself.

"i'll be back soon. finals are in a few days, so we just gotta watch that and then take care of some shit. but we'll see each other soon, alright?" ah, that made your heart skip a beat, almost immediately joyous at the thought of being in his arms soon. only being able to see him across the tv screen really wasn't all much. "can't have ya missin' me too much." mm, a bit too late for that, maybe (and you could see his irritating smug smirk from all the way in yokohama).

"it's gettin' late over here, and i gotta wake up early tomorrow. don't go to bed late, ya hear? your body needs proper rest too y'know." man, at times, your boyfriend did sound a bit like a nagging parent, though i suppose it's all for the best. he was simply worried about your health, after all, and your tendency to, well, ignore that, to put it lightly. it wasn't your fault though; you simply got too absorbed in things from time-to-time, and the result of that was that you often neglected your wellbeing. you were only human after all.

well, hearing samatoki openly care for you certainly had you feeling all warm inside, even as the cool night air blew through the room. what an odd sensation, the feeling of cool air on your heated skin, yet oddly comforting in a sense.

"good night," you hear the shuffling of sheets and a flick of a switch, "and try to go to bed early, alright?" he reiterates. "i know you're probably listening to this at two in the mornin'."

your eyes unconciously flick to the time glowing at the top of your screen; guilty as charged.

"but try to sleep soon, alright? 'm sure you got a long day ahead tomorrow. and i don't need to hear about how you knocked out at your desk."

you huff, as if he would be able to see you, at his words. you knew samatoki was right: you needed to sleep. but the day was so short and the night was so long, the only time you had off to yourself. you wanted to relish it for as long as you can, though i suppose a drawback of that was that you were too emotional and caught up over how you missed your boyfriend. perhaps it was the best to go to bed right now, before you ended up having itches all over, the need to hug samatoki or feel his warmth at that very instance. his shirts were beginning to lose his smell and warmth, you couldn't help but whine as you pulled them out of the dryer one morning.

gosh how you wanted battle season to end already, as entertaining as it was.

"anyway, i'll check up on ya' tomorrow as well." you feel a small smile coming on, happy of course to know that you'd hear him again soon. you haven't been able to call much these days, samatoki too busy from giving it his all in the battles. and texts simply didn't suffice, didn't hold that same tone to them as did with calls. ah if only the two of you could video chat, though your schedules rarely aligned as is. a shame, truly.

"get some sleep, and-"

it cuts off abruptly, you sighing knowing that samatoki must've accidentally stopped the recording at the slip of his finger. damn were you really anticipating his next words, knowing the effect they'd have on you this late (or well, early i should say), making you that much more touched and emotional. mm, it was probably for the best, maybe, or so you tried telling yourself. it was time to get some rest after all.

for that night, you fell asleep to the sound of samatoki's voice. you could feel a lingering sense of his warmth right beside you on the bed, the most comfortable sleep you've gotten in weeks.

#hypmic #samatoki aohitsugi #samatoki x reader #fluff #gender neutral reader #fic #this was rathed spontaneous if you will #mm hope you enjoyy regardless #have with other characters aa well (cough ichiro cough) if you guys wanna see them or any other hcs/fics ive written in my free time) #was supposed to be hcs with mtc. but samatokis got too long so lmao #hope this was in character ahh #feel like this was rough lmao #anywayyy its back to the void for me #whoshhh #can you tell im sleep deprived rn

[scuttling]

Tempting

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairing: Aaron Hotchner/Latina OFC Sophie Cortes Word Count: 2,392 Tags: 16+, Mature SFW, Pre-relationship, Fantasizing, Accidentally turned on, Mentions of sex Summary: Aaron and Sophie both find themselves... tempted. Collection: Sophie Cortes timeline, 7-12 Months at the BAU (See Masterlist for reading order) Link to AO3 or read below! “Hey, just wanted to hand off my profiles,” Sophie says as she peeks her head into Hotch’s office Wednesday night. “Any idea when the department will catch up to the 21st century and let us do these on the computer?” she asks playfully, and he smiles, rolls his eyes a bit.

“It’s not the department that makes us do these on paper, it’s me. Morgan has been trying to get me to switch to digital, says Garcia can make us a user-friendly system in her sleep.” She crosses her arms, leaning a hip against the doorframe.

“And you’re resistant because…?”

“Honestly, I don’t know. Maybe it’s nostalgia, or because I hate change.”

“As long as it's not because you’ll miss seeing my smiling face at the end of the day, turning in my files,” she says, and though it’s obvious she’s teasing, that kind of is part of the answer.

He doesn’t want to be just a figure in his office, silently collecting completed case files with a ping of his computer. He knows they know his door is always open, but it’s sometimes the excuse of turning in their work that leads them there, gets them in the door, and he thinks it’s important to maintain.

“All joking aside, I think it could really benefit the team. If you wanted a beta tester, I’d be happy to try it out; we can get together once a week for a couple weeks to discuss any bugs or issues we find with the system. The others don’t even need to know; I could do my regular cases during the day, stay later once or twice a week and work them on the computer. I don’t mind the overtime, I’ve got nothing going on.”

“You should go enjoy your life, not spend extra hours holding my hand because I’m resistant to change.”

“I want to, though, if it will help. And I said I don’t mind the overtime.” They stare each other down for a moment; he is the first to cave, sighing and pushing a hand through his hair.

“I’ll talk to Garcia, see if she has capacity to work on the program this week.” Her answering smile is almost blinding, and he feels warmth spread in his chest; he's been feeling that a lot lately, always where Sophie is concerned, but especially when she smiles. “Hey, while I’ve got you, do you mind looking at a case with me? I can’t help feeling that I’m missing something.”

“Sure, of course.” She walks fully into his office, around the desk so she’s looking over his shoulder at the open file. Her hair falls in cascading waves around her face before she gets a chance to tuck a few strands behind her ear, and the smell of her shampoo is... tempting, to say the least.

It’s coconut, and jasmine, maybe, a light, tropical scent that makes him think of palm trees, fresh pineapple, warm sand under his feet… Sophie in a bikini, a tiny thing that shows off her every curve… Sophie curled up next to him in a private cabana, laughing softly in the moonlight… Sophie on a soft bed in a hotel room, her bare skin, even darker from sunbathing, a beautiful contrast to crisp white sheets…

“Have you considered that the second unsub could be a woman? That would explain how the victims are being lured from the mall—a woman probably wouldn’t stop in a parking garage at night for a man, but she would for another woman, if she’s in trouble.” She turns to look at him, and he’s shaken from his fantasy abruptly.

“No, uh, I hadn’t considered that. That closes the gap in my profile. Good thinking.”

“That’s why you keep me around, isn’t it?” He earns another, softer smile, and he thinks about leaning in to kiss her, how easy that would be. It doesn’t take long to shake that thought away, because it’s almost literally insane, but he can’t deny that he had it.

“Something like that. Are you headed home?” She stands fully, and he’s glad, because that means the temptation is gone. It’s not her fault in any way, all his, but he can’t deny it gets worse the closer she is.

“Not home; the girls and I are meeting around the corner for a drink. Will you be finishing up soon?”

“Probably not, but it’s alright. I have nothing going on,” he says, repeating her turn of phrase. He looks down at his work, and she sighs lightly.

“You could have something going on. Come out for a drink with me.”

“And crash your meeting with the girls?” He’s not entirely certain he’d be welcome, or comfortable, but she makes it sound so easy. Like it’s something he could just decide to do, if he wanted.

“Trust me, they won’t mind.”

“It’s a nice offer, thank you. Maybe another time.” She rests a hand on his desk, on top of his case file so he can’t finish filling out the consultation paperwork, and he has to look up and make eye contact with her, which he’s sure is by design. She’s too good at reading him, sometimes. “Definitely another time. I really do appreciate the offer.”

“I’m gonna hold you to it, Hotch. You need a life outside of this place.” She lifts her hand from the desk, places it briefly on his shoulder, and then heads for the door. “Have a good night.”

“You too,” he sighs at her retreating back. His feelings seem to be getting a little too hard to ignore. Their next case doesn’t come until the beginning of the next week. Sophie goes with Hotch to interview a victim’s mother in hopes that they can find the woman who is currently missing before the unsub kills her, but they come up with nothing, which is all they’ve come up with all day.

It’s clear Hotch is not pleased with their progress. He stands outside the car for a moment, looking like he’s trying to compose himself, and he takes off his jacket and throws it in the back seat.

“Damn it,” he hisses when they get back into the car, slamming his hands against the steering wheel; he scrubs a hand through his hair, unbuttons his cuffs, and rolls up his shirt sleeves a bit more angrily than seems strictly necessary. Sophie can’t keep her eyes off of his hands as he pushes the fabric up over his forearms—baring firm muscles covered in thick, dark hair—and when he throws the car into reverse and turns his head, placing his palm on the back of her headrest while he looks behind them, it gets her a little… hot.

It’s nothing new, of course. She has been feeling certain things, where Hotch is concerned—some emotional things, some physical things—for a little while now, if she’s being honest with herself. And she’s usually got the presence of mind to ignore it, or force it to the back of her thoughts, but he caught her off guard and she’s spiraling, now, imagining his hands on either side of her head, on her throat, holding open her thighs. His hands are close all the time, and visible, and the thought of reaching out to touch them is just so… tempting.

She must be making an oh, shit face, because his eyes become more inquisitive, his features a little softer. “What’s wrong?” She’s breathing heavily, and her cheeks feel warm, so she probably looks insane; she just shakes her head and exhales lightly, tries to calm herself.

“Nothing, it’s nothing.” He looks like he absolutely does not believe her, and she curses herself for the hundredth time for choosing to work around a bunch of profilers; they’re always thinking, analyzing, squinting their eyes at you and trying to figure you out, and it can get really irritating.

“I shouldn’t have reacted like that. I’m sorry if I upset you,” he says when he’s done squinting. She almost wants to laugh: he’s worried about upsetting her over a minor curse word while she’s literally hot under the collar for him; her chest feels like it’s on fire, always quick to flush when she’s aroused, and she’s thanking the gods that she chose a crew neck t-shirt today and not a v-neck, or the situation would probably be a lot more awkward.

“You didn’t upset me, Hotch, it’s okay,” she insists, and he breaks eye contact to focus on the road.

They ride in silence the rest of the way to the precinct, but he doesn’t move to exit the vehicle after he takes the keys out of the ignition. “I’m sorry again for my outburst. I shouldn’t have reacted that way, at least not with you in the car.” She sits back in her seat, because this is now about more than her embarrassing moment from before.

“You’re allowed to be human, you know,” she tells him, and when it looks like he’s about to argue, she shakes her head. “I know the bureau likes to discourage it, but being in tune with our emotions and other people’s emotions is what makes us the best at what we do. Don’t apologize for the things you feel.”

“I have to lead by example. It’s the best way to set clear expectations.”

“Telling us your expectations is the best way to set clear expectations. You don’t have to pretend to be emotionless. When you’re angry, be angry.” He frowns, looks at her like what she’s saying makes absolutely no sense.

“When I got angry just now, you were looking at me like you were seeing something about me for the first time. Like you were afraid of me.”

“I wasn’t afraid of you, it’s… it’s nothing. I’d really rather not get into it.” His face softens again, and he’s giving her a look that’s usually reserved for families of victims, which throws her off guard.

“I know that victims of abuse can sometimes have a negative reaction to shouting…”

She wants to groan. He’s being so kind, but if he doesn’t let this go...

“I’m not a victim of abuse, and you didn’t scare me.” He still looks guilty, and if that’s what he thinks happened, and that’s how she made him feel? Well she’s gotta come clean sooner than later. She takes a deep breath. “You turned me on, okay? You were angry, and you rolled up your sleeves, and then you put your hand on the back of my seat and it just… affected me. I can’t believe I’m saying this,” she mutters, covering her face with her hand. Hotch processes that, is still processing that when she removes her fingers from her face. He just looks at her, expression carefully blank.

“Oh. Uh, well. It’s natural; nothing you could have done about it.” She sighs at that, runs a hand through her hair.

“I know, I’m not ashamed of being aroused, or anything, but—we’re working, you’re my boss. The situation is awkward.” He looks at the steering wheel, like he can’t say what he’s going to say directly to her.

“You shouldn’t feel awkward. This kind of thing happens to all of us.” She arches her brow, smiles a little incredulously.

“You’re telling me you, Aaron Hotchner, have been inappropriately turned on on the job before?” He shrugs, nodding.

“Sure, yes.” Her brows rise further into her hairline, not believing him for a second; he sighs at her expression and shakes his head, huffing a laugh. “Okay. You were in my office last week, leaning over my shoulder to look at a case file, and I could smell your shampoo. It’s coconut, right?” She nods, not sure exactly where the story is going, but she feels herself getting hot again, against literally her every wish. “Well, it made me daydream of the vacation I so desperately want: a drink in my hand, sun on my skin, sand beneath my feet… making love late at night with a breeze blowing through the open patio door.”

“Oh.” Her heart is racing, beating so hard she’s almost surprised the sound doesn’t give her away, and her breathing is heavy, and she thinks he’s about to speak again when someone taps on his window abruptly. He rolls it down and Gideon sticks his head in.

“There’s another body, 482 West Hemlock; you two might as well stay in the car and meet us there.”

“Will do,” Hotch replies, and Gideon nods, steps away from the car. If he wonders why they were sitting there unbuckled for so long, he doesn't show it.

They back out of the parking lot sexy-incident-free, and they’ve gone a few blocks before he turns to look at her again. “Are we okay? I hope I didn’t say too much.”

“No, you didn't. We’re okay.” She smiles softly, actively thinking about anything but vacation sex with her boss.

(It’s surprisingly difficult.)

They process the crime scene, gaining some new insight about the unsub, and before long they’re ready for a profile. Sophie opts to ride back to the station with Prentiss under the guise of letting Gideon and Hotch iron out the details, but really she needs to be as far away from him as possible while working the case, or she’s going to lose her mind.

The rest of the day is uneventful, spent poring over pages and pages of cold case files trying to link other murders to the one that occurred earlier that day. They identify at least 15, and when they literally can’t go on for a minute longer, Hotch calls it and they discuss where to go to grab some dinner.

Italian wins, and Sophie gets a big, beautiful bowl of pasta primavera and a glass of white wine, and it’s almost enough to make her forget all about the day until Hotch catches her eye from across the table, smiling at something Morgan said, and her stomach clenches. She smiles lightly, trying to hide it, but she’s not sure she was able to save face in time. She spends the rest of the meal arguing semantics with Reid, something so perfectly normal that it shouldn’t raise anyone’s suspicions.

She feels eyes on her anyway, but she doesn’t look in their direction.

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner/original female character #Criminal minds fanfic

[datawyrms]

Expectations Fulfilled

Dannymay 2020 Day 18 : Horror (As a warning this is way too long? I don’t know how this happened. The answer is way too much setup.)

The last fight with Valerie had not gone well. Danny had hesitated a beat too long, seemingly frozen in indecision and took a nasty blow to the chest for it. That was their friend for you, get too worried about hurting the person trying to kill you and forget to dodge again. At least he’d dropped out of the sky over a wooded area, giving them a chance to pull him out of the fire yet again.

“Danny, you have to change back before she sees you!” Sam hissed at the glowing boy who was clutching his head. “Do you need us to carry you?” her eyes scanned the branches above, it didn’t look like he’d taken any down by slamming into them, but he could always just land badly.

“I will totally put you in this thermos over letting her drag you off to Vlad.” Tucker warned, listening for the tell tale hum of the ghost hunter’s jet board.

“I-I’m okay.” Danny finally responded, starting to get back to his feet. “Don’t soup me. Hate that,” he shook his head still rubbing at it with one hand. “I’m just a bit dizzy”.

“You’re not fooling anyone with that hero act anymore, you hear me?”

“Hurry up!”

The ghost gave a stiff nod, finally clear headed enough to switch back to human form. He stumbled, but the three of them had enough practice by now to get moving quickly. It wasn’t likely Valarie would connect the three of them with Phantom, but with their luck she’d assume a ghost was what had gotten Danny limping along.

“We really need a better plan for when she catches up to you, talking it out isn’t working.”

“What, I love being blamed for beating myself up.”

Sam scowled at her flippant friend. “I know you’re worried about hurting her, but she can probably take a few hits. Just so she’s a little more cautious about going after you so hard.”

“Probably wouldn’t take a fall from that high up very well though.” the half ghost grimaced as he watched the sky.

“Dude, you barely took that fall. Sam has a point.” Tucker handed over the backpack as his friend steadied, keeping close in case Danny was only acting like he was good to go again.

“I’ll think about it.” Which was basically Dannyanto for ‘no’, but there wasn’t much use in trying to convince him.

That is why it was so strange the next day in school. Tucker spotted Valerie running out of class with a flimsy excuse, but Danny hadn’t even made an attempt to leave. It could have been something that wasn’t ghost related, but spotting the large white and green serpent ghost slammed to the ground from the window confirmed it was indeed a ghost thing.

“Hey. Aren’t you gonna go out there?” he leaned over with a hiss, Lancer too distracted by the potential danger to his students to really be picky about talking in class.

“Huh?” Danny stared at him blankly.

“The ghost? That Val’s fighting?” he clarified, wondering if his friend had simply slept through his ghost sense.

Danny looked out the window, looking more bored than alarmed. “Nah. She has it.”

“Dude, are you okay?”

“You guys were the ones saying we needed a plan. So I’ll just let her deal with it,” he shrugged, slouching back in his chair.

That didn’t really seem like a plan he’d normally come up with. Sure, it was sensible, but that’s why it didn’t make any sense. Danny looked normal enough though, maybe he was just tired of getting yelled at by someone he was helping. “If you say so. It is just an animal ghost,”. He dropped the subject, taking several looks back as their teacher ushered them all off to a ‘safer area’. Valerie probably wouldn’t have any trouble alone, but his friend’s complete lack of interest was a little creepy.

Sam’s opener at lunch meant he wasn’t alone in that thought. “Aren’t you maybe a little too carefree about this?”

“No? If she gets beat up then it’s not my problem anymore,” he focused back on his sandwich, ignoring the twin looks of bafflement he was getting for a few minutes. When they continued he muttered “What? I’ll deal with it if it threatens you guys, you’re my friends”.

“Are you sure you’re okay? Your parents don’t have some weird ghost mood changer or something?”

“I’m fine Sam. I finally agree with you guys and now you’re surprised I’m not acting like a superhero, sheesh.” he rolled his eyes, irritation creasing his brow.

“You gotta admit it was pretty sudden. We know how stubborn you are,” Tucker crossed his arms, unable to shake the feeling that something was off.

“You said it enough that it made sense. She hates me and wants to waste me, so why keep bailing her out? See how she likes the ‘evil ghost’ not helping,”

“You’ll help if she gets in serious trouble though, right?” Tucker hesitated before asking.

“If I feel like it.”

Sam and Tucker shared a look, biting back any further questions. Whatever was up with Danny, they probably wouldn’t get out of the half ghost himself. They’d have to invite themselves over tonight and take a look around for anything new and dangerous.

“See? Totally fine.” Danny prompted them to look around, spotting the ghost hunter entering the lunchroom with a scowl.

“Uh Danny, she’s a little hurt. See her arm?”

He raised an eyebrow. “So? I take worse, you’ve taken worse. Why do you care?”

Sam really wanted to ask him why he didn’t care, but the elbow from Tucker had her reconsider. With the weird apathy, it probably wouldn’t be the best idea to get on his bad side.

Yet they couldn’t find any sort of weapon or tool that might have explained why their friend had flipped from being completely unwilling to aggressively defend himself against Valerie to ignoring ghost fights he had no interest in. Any questions or nudges to help were always met with reluctance, as if he resented the very idea of assisting. Sure, he’d go the second a ghost might threaten his family or friends, but otherwise he seemed to have set the rest of the town in a ‘not my problem’ box.

“Maybe he wants to focus on his studies. You know he can’t work for NASA if he keeps pulling his kind of grades.” Jazz was a little put off by his behaviour, but couldn’t deny that the increased amount of sleep and downtime was reversing her brother’s downward trend in school.

“Isn’t it weird though? It’s not like it was our idea for him to use his ghost powers to help people, he did that on his own,” Sam pointed out, frustrated that Jazz would just ignore all of that.

“You know I can totally hear you guys, right?” Danny called from upstairs, and they could swear the room had gotten colder.

“Yup! Eavesdropping is rude little bro”

“So is gossiping behind my back!”

Jazz gave a shrug, covering up a laugh from his irritated retort. “He’s not acting all that different guys, really.”

“Which I’ve been saying on repeat all week.” Danny groused, hands in his pockets as he slouched into the room. “I’m tired of pretending to be something I’m not. So I stopped. Is it really that big of a deal?”

“You weren’t pretending, you were really helping people,” Sam pressed, earning another eye roll.

“Sure. That’s why everyone hates my guts. Or wants to poke around in them.”

“Well it’s up to you dude. Just let us know if anything feels off?”

“I’m fine! Sheesh!”

-

Phantom had been strange since their last fight. In some ways it had been nice, not needing to constantly chase the pest down only for him to get away yet again. She was pretty sure she’d caught more than the glowing terror had this week, mostly because the ghost barely showed up. Perhaps it had finally decided the weaker ghosts were beneath it, or didn’t get it enough attention. She didn’t miss the ghost, but she could admit she was running more ragged than usual for it.

“Get out of my way.” the ghost had the audacity to bark an order at her after flinging Ember to the ground, making her completely miss her shot.

“You’re the one in my way Phantom.” she growled back, getting some satisfaction as the ghost’s eyes snapped to her hands and the ectogun she held. “You can’t fool me, I know you’re just an evil ghost”

The green eyed ghost glared at her for that “Am I now?” he paused in midair, eyes flicking between Ember who was getting back up for another go, and the red clad ghost hunter in front of him. “Hey Ember!”

“What! I don’t need any of your awful puns, dipstick”

“How ‘bout a truce? First one to get the hunter grounded wins.” he ducked quickly to dodge the shot Valerie fired.

“‘Bout time you learned what fun is, kid. You’re on!” the ghostly musician regained her place in the air, apparently willing to forgive a punch to the ground if it meant ganging up on a ghost hunter.

“Hey Val? I suggest you run.” With that he fired on her, only managing to dodge the blow by having her board stop floating. She always knew the white haired boy was evil, but she never really expected him to team up with another ghost. Still, she was a better ghost hunter than most. She could take them.

She flew low, counting on the extra obstacles to throw off the ghosts aim. The side benefit of not having far to fall was a notable one as well as the larger soundwaves Ember could launch kept clipping the sides of the board, a little too wide to completely dodge. She rocked wildly but was able to keep her feet, using the time in between volleys to launch a few attacks of her own back. Judging by the grunts she’d hit one or the other a few times, but not directly. She urged the board to go faster, eyes scanning for a good place to turn the tables on the ghosts. It wasn’t a great spot, but the two buildings could provide cover once she got behind one. The board shrieked at the hard turn she demanded of it, but managed to get down the alley without clipping the sides.

“Who’s the rat now, huh?” Ember’s taunt was infuriating, but she forced herself to wait. She had to take at least one of them out. The first shot took the ghost by surprise as she rounded the corner, but the second was a little too far down.

“The thing about corners is you can’t really surprise me if I don’t come that way.”

She jerked in surprise, trying to face the ghost who had somehow gotten behind her-though the building of course how had she been so stupid-? Yet she couldn’t dodge the punch that threw her off the board and on to the ground, skidding to where the guitar wielding ghost was waiting.

“Well, that was fun. Should do it again sometime!” she gave the ghost hunter a kick before taking to the air, eyeing Phantom a little warily. “Didn’t think you had it in ya.”

“Surprise. Touch my friends and I’ll kill you again. Got it?” he started cheerfully enough, but the warning was nearly a snarl.

“Chill out dipstick. Weird little humans off limits, got it!”

Valerie tried to rise as flame-head fled, but was forced back down by Phantom’s boot. She managed not to grunt in pain, but she didn’t have too many options to remove the ghost’s foot from her chest at the moment.

“As for you, Valerie,” he ghost was still clearly furious, but seemed a little lost now that he’d actually knocked her down. 

“Danny?”

Valerie’s heart raced. Tucker? He was a bit of a dweeb, but she couldn’t let this ghost scum hurt him. She struggled, trying to unbalance the ghost while it was distracted, rolling free and dragging the ghost down with a grunt.

“What now?” Phantom seemed peevish, ignoring the ghost hunter completely after getting back up. As if she was so little threat he could just ignore her.

“I think you might be going a little far dude.” Tucker really shouldn’t be trying to reason with this monster, but it was giving her time to ready her weapon.

“Hey, she wanted evil!”

Tucker looked incredibly uncomfortable, eyes darting between the ghost and his disguised classmate. “How about no more fighting for today, okay?”

“You can’t be defending this monster! It can’t hide what it is!” she aimed her reclaimed weapon.

The ghost’s more relaxed air died the second she finished speaking, temperature plunging as he whirled to face her. It was strange how he seemed more fixed on her hand than the barrel of the gun, but that didn’t really matter all that much with the ghost’s hands and eyes glowing a furious green.

She stuck to her guns, ready to fire and distract the thing so Tucker could run Yet he didn’t run, instead pulling a Fenton thermos quickly out of his backpack, looking more worried about her than anything else.

“Yeah okay, you need a time out. Sorry.” The ghost didn’t even react to the words, though it blinked a few times once it realized the Fenton’s invention was pulling it away from its intended target. Otherwise it didn’t struggle, leaving Tucker to quickly cap the thermos. “Okaaay. I’m just gonna. Go now. Bye!” he sprinted away before she could demand he hand over the thermos so she could dispose of the ghost inside. Didn’t he see how dangerous it was?

-

Thinking simply hurt. Tucker and Sam were worried sick, babbling on and on about how he was acting weird, that he could have seriously hurt Valarie. As if hurting her mattered. Maybe it did? Urgh. He just wanted them all to stop talking and let him figure it out.

“Danny, this isn’t normal. We just want to help,”

“Why is any of this surprising? I’m always like this.” he insisted, only earning worried frowns again.

“No, you don’t usually decide to attack people for calling you evil. What’s gotten into you?” Sam was looking him in the eye. She did genuinely seem to be concerned, even though it didn’t make any sense.

“Nothing? I’ve been half ghost for a while,” he crossed his arms.

“This isn’t getting us anywhere. We need to ask Frostbite to check him or something.”

“There’s no way we can get to the Farfrozen if we start now, and we can’t trust him to go on his own right now.” Tucker frowned, punching plans into his PDA.

“I’m right here guys.”

Sam dragged her hand across her face. “Danny, you were going to waste Valerie, we get to question your judgement right now.”

“Of course I was. I’ll show her a monster,” her muttered, eyes flaring green in annoyance.

Tucker paled a little, still looking at the PDA. “Yeah that? That’s what we’re worried about.”

“I wouldn’t hurt you guys.”

“Danny, that’s not the problem here!”

The half ghost sighed, slumping on his bed. They still weren’t making sense, and everything was starting to itch horribly. He rubbed at his shoulder, but it only seemed to make the itching sensation worse. Something was in the way of what needed scratching, but he couldn’t quite reach it. Very annoying.

“Can you stop dropping the temperature? It’s like a meat locker in here.”

“I’m not doing anything.” he stared at the stickers on the ceiling, idly wondering if something had happened to the others to make all of them make zero sense. Or to make them forget that he was a half ghost. Of course it was cold. He kept scratching at his shoulder, nails desperately trying to find whatever it was that was making him feel so uncomfortable. Something tight and restrictive that itched furiously.

“We go Friday. There’s no way we can sneak away that long until then.”

“You’re overreacting guys.” That, and a trip to the ghost zone would be pretty boring.

“No, you’re under reacting. Just trust us, okay?”

Sam and Tucker remained weirdly on edge, watching him like he was some sort of bomb that might go off at any moment. Shouldn’t they be used to all this by now? So what if he found it a little fun that people were too scared to keep eye contact with him for very long? They were only unsettled, and the fear always gave a welcome kick of energy. It distracted from the itching.

He wanted to be a little more scary than just simply unsettling, but Sam and Tucker insisted the school was a hands off zone now. Maybe he should have picked different humans to be so attached too, as these ones were being incredibly boring all of a sudden. Didn’t they want to have a bit of fun? Simply being unsettling with his presence was all well and good, but it wasn’t the same as a proper scared-for their-lives affair. They didn’t even approve when he went after Skulker for daring to set foot in his territory! He’d been ‘too careless’ for dragging the ghost near some of the fleeing humans while they fought. Of course he had! What was the point of fighting if he wasn’t going to get some good back from it? He could do what he wanted with his food.

Really, it just made him want to tear his hair out. They were the ones who had changed, but they kept insisting it was the other way around.

Valerie was incredibly weird though. She kept talking to him as if they were friends. It always made the itching worse, trying to pretend he was glad she was at school and not a smear on the sidewalk. Humans were stupid. It wasn’t like he was hiding what he was. Though it was one of the times that she approached him that he finally solved the itching problem, nails finally tearing through the obnoxious, too tight skin.

She’d backed away with a gasp, as if the green stain on his hands should be some sort of surprise. “What happened to you? Don’t worry, I’ll get help!”

She seemed confused when he laughed at her nonsensical question. Flexing his freed claws was fun, but he really did need to get the rest of this restricting mess off. His right hand clawed at his arm, the ectoplasm that oozed from his self inflicted wounds was both freeing and soothing at once. Stop hiding, stop pretending. 

“Nothing happened to me.” He flexed his freed arms,  green black skin more like tar than anything else, giggling when the girl recoiled from the new green eyes that bubbled to the surface to watch her squirm. 

Maybe she was that oblivious. “Someone will help you Danny, just hold on!” she insisted before sprinting down the hall. He’d chase her, but there were so many people simply watching in mute horror that he couldn’t resist trying to get a few screams out of them. No killing, Tucker and Sam wouldn’t like that, but a few scratches wouldn’t hurt all that much. Dash ought to know how kind he’d been in not retaliating sooner, really. The disgusted sounds they made as he clawed at his face was entertaining, someone fainting as he flung the discarded skin away. Some of his hair remained black, but the white went nicer with his pointed teeth, in his opinion. He let out a snarl, relishing in how they fled from some twisted half human ghost. Tucker and Sam were wrong, he absolutely should have done this sooner. Well, he’d let them know that when they showed up. They usually did. It really was a bit of a shame to just let them all run away though. Oh well.

Maybe he should free his feet, but getting through his shoes might be a bit of a pain. It was easier to drag his claws against the lockers and listen for the sounds of running feet and muffled screams. They were so scared they didn’t even need to see him.

“Danny, do you recognize us?”

Oh, there they were! “Hi. I fixed the itching.” he clawed idly at his neck, feeling more flexible with every scratch. It was much easier to keep an eye on them with the arm eyes, freeing his head to glance around the rest of the hallway.

“We noticed. Uh. I think you left half of yourself on the floor.” Tucker looked ill, pointedly ignoring a red and green splatter on the wall next to him.

“Finally. So much scratching. You have no idea how annoying that was.” They didn’t seem happy for him though. More worried. Why? They knew he’d never hurt them. They were his humans, his favourite ones. No one got to hurt them.

“Can you...change back?” Sam asked, approaching cautiously.

“Change back to what?” his brow furrowed, fixing the blue eyes of his face to double check he was seeing correctly. Was she upset? Weird. This was a good thing. 

“Back into yourself. Human, like us? Remember?” Tucker had taken one of his hands, careful of the claws. They were still the same general shape, even if Tucker’s skin was thin and weak and warm.

“I’m not like you though. You were there.” he tilted his head, wondering if they’d forgotten that too somehow.

“You’re still human, Danny,” Sam stepped in as Tucker seemed distracted in wiping the green and black film off of his hands.

“Nope. Something in the middle.” he let out a hum, sure he’d heard something. “Being split like that was wrong. Like playing pretend all the time.” The beast stretched, the cracking of his lower back like gunshots in the abandoned hall. Two more steps. So there was a sneak around!

“This isn’t you, you know that. You don’t want to hurt or scare people.”

“Mmm? That’s what monsters do, isn’t it?” Why did Sam decide to hug him now? He couldn’t get at the rest of his torso like that.

Tucker was very confusing, rubbing at the water from his eyes. “Just let us try to help you fix this, okay? You aren’t a monster.” 

“Sure I am. What else could I be?”

“Who told you that? Why would you listen to them over us?” Sam was brave as usual, shaking him a little instead of backing away.

“I told you that too! Are you sure you guys aren’t the ones forgetting stuff?” he frowned at the two of them, ear twitching. More steps. The sneak was close, and he was pretty sure he knew who it was.

“It doesn’t matter who it was. Can you switch to ghost form?” Tucker sounded calm, but his face was still leaking. Sam had joined him, though she was more biting her lip than dripping like a faucet. 

“I’m both right now. I just said that!” They really weren’t listening very well. “I’m done hiding what I am, it was uncomfortable.” The confused muttering from the sneak was fun to overhear, but it would probably be more fun if Tucker and Sam were in on it. “They don’t know what I mean by that, you might have to explain it for em.”

“Explain what? To who? No one’s here Danny. It’s just us.”

“Us and the sneakkkkk.” he sprang forward, grabbing on to the corner with his claws, twisting his neck to look down at the sneak who backed away with a yelp. “Hiiii Val. You gonna run again?” he snickered when her fear morphed into anger, apparently recognizing him now.

“You sick creep! What did you do to Danny?”

“Valerie! Don’t make him mad!” Sam called out, the two of them sprinting over to join the  sneaky ghost hunter.

“No one listens! I’m Danny. I’ve always been Danny. You just didn’t notice! That’s okay, almost nobody did.” Oh she was very funny when she glared at him like that.

“You’re lying. Danny is nothing like you.”

“Danny is everything like me. Right Tuck? She doesn’t listen to ghosts. You sure I can’t just kill her?” he glanced back at his friends, disappointed to see the no already written on their faces.

“No! That would be bad, don’t do that!” Tucker stammered, unsure where to keep his eyes. He’d have an easier time if he had eyes on his arms like he did now. Maybe his friends could be half ghosts too. Hmm.

“Valarie, I know this doesn’t make any sense, just listen and don’t set him off.”

“Sam, this thing has done something awful to your friend and you’re worried about the ghost’s feelings? What’s wrong with you?” the ghost hunter stood her ground even without her fancy gear, glaring up at the perching mutated mess above her.

“All of that up there is Danny, okay? Something’s wrong, and we’ll explain it once he’s better, but you just need to trust us right now.”

“Mmmhmm. A monster just like you said.” he rocked back and forth a little, blue eyes fixed on Valerie’s clenched fist. “You’re lucky my friends won’t let me kill you Val. Even though I’m not hiding anymore.”

Tucker noticed how Danny’s blue eyes seemed fixed on the girl he was tormenting, elbowing Sam to point it out.

“None of you are making any sense. He’s just possessed or something, why are you acting like this is okay?”

“Annoying.” Danny growled, showing far too many fangs. “This is what you wanted! You say I’m not a hero so I stop.”

Tucker and Sam looked ill. “Valarie, what do you have on your hand?”

“Why does my jewelry matter now?” she didn’t look at them, too busy scowling at the monster on the wall. “I didn’t say anything like that to Danny.”

“Yes you did! You are awful at this. Phantom was Danny and vise versa. Keep up!” the hybrid snorted. “Both are me. Both are very, very tired of you and your orders.”

“It’s important! Where did you get it?” Sam had apparently decided she didn’t have time for Valarie to be confused, trying to grab at her hand and cursing when she saw it. “Nevermind, I don’t care, just smash it!”

“You still aren't’ making sense.” She was reaching for a blaster that wasn’t there, looking between all three now as possible threats.

“Then you say I’m evil. So I comply. Now I stop hiding and still you are complaining! Make up your mind! Or let me kill you, that’d be fun.” Plaster cracked beneath the creature’s claws as it leaned forward, uncomfortably close. The out of place blue eyes flicked from the red ring to her face and back again. “Isn’t this exactly what you wanted Val? Or should I call you master?”

(oh look a sort of continuation)

#dannymay2020 #Danny Phantom #Tucker Foley #sam manson #valerie gray #my stuff #why did i spend all day on this #i hope it was a decent buildup payoff #horror is a lot about suspense to me #but idono if i really got that part #there's some blood but it's pretty glossed over idono #please scream thoughts at me they make my day lol #body horror #if i should tag more things say so i am Bad At Tumblr :v

[dahniwitchoflight]

Homesquared Chapter 4

I cheated and some of my chapter 4 thoughts leaked into the chapter 3 post lol

Mostly about the pretty obvious Garden of Eden metaphor Dirk is for some reason setting up for himself and Rose as Adam and Eve

and I was about to say which begs the question of what the heck role Terezi is supposed to play as but then it’s very obviously as the Snake in the Garden

Terezi is very much just barely holding back some irritation towards how Dirk is treating Rose, but she’s also very intelligent and is aware of How much Dirk sees/knows and controls about their situation, so she’s probably leveraging her powers over Mind as much as possible in order to stay hidden in plain sight from Dirk’s narrative

and she does so in a way that is one of Dirk’s only blindspots - How Mind and other people have an effect in the determination of the Soul/Heart

By acting in a manner and doing things in a way that aligns with his expectations of her, he assumes and pigeonholes her into a type of character and bases his predictions of her behaviors off of that archtype, never expecting her to act outside it, and when he sees her actions and thoughts and desires all align within it, never questions that it might one day change or was different all along. Dirk’s never really been good at reading other people, can’t see without the lens of “how would I do it” blinding him to things he would never think to do, a trap that he keeps falling into with his friends and one he’s probably trying to overcome by becoming Ultimate God Person/combining all perspectives into his own and uncovering blindspots like that

But right now Mind is the darkest thing in is corner still and I think he sort of knows that as well

Terezi walks the crazy wiggled line boundary between their two Souls that defines who each of them is, as expertly as a person on a tightrope, never wavering until she reaches her destination, at which point she’ll leap off of that line and leave Dirk scrambling to try and calculate her next move/who exactly is she/what her goals are, since’s it won’t be following the clearly defined Heart boundary he’s used to drawing his plans by, so she’ll have to choose the perfect moment in order to entice Eve of the Apple of Revelation once more, heck, she might even do that so sneakily that she gets Adam to take a bite as well, since as soon as Rose bites it she’ll have an ally with her against Dirk.

For God created the Serpent originally as well, so thus why did he not imagine it’s betrayal and prevent it before it could have happened? Or else why did he create something he knew was going to betray? Eden was a paradise, so why intentionally create Evil in that paradise?

If Eve corrupted Adam and the Snake corrupted Eve, Who exactly corrupted the first Serpent? That’s something that the bible never goes into really, at least in Genesis, except to say that the Snake was punished for it’s action to forever crawl the earth eating the dust of man’s heel, punishing all snakes, as Adam and Eve’s punishment punished all humans

(Later I think the bible would try to say that the Snake was the Devil all along, but then why punish the Snake and all it’s progeny for it? If it was the Devil’s doing that undid Adam and Eve then why punish them for the Devil’s actions they would have no way of guarding against or now way of knowing it was a lie? Was it not God’s failure? The Walls of the Garden of Eden were supposed to protect his perfect creation afterall)

Gotta say though I really Rose’s design

I would call her Evil Rose, but she things she does she does in ignorance, not really out of evil, it would be like calling Eve evil for listening to the Snake when she was purposefully blinded to it’s intentions by her creation by God.

Once again we get this idea of Knowledge and Choice affecting eachother, Well I say again but really I’ve been watching RWBY a lot lately and the idea that you can’t make a real choice without real knowledge comes up a lot in it’s mythos and it is really applicable here

Terezi’s design as well is incorporating a lot more Red, she really dug those red shoes aesthetic but gave it her own twist, she’s got a red tie, her ever present red cane and glasses and even in that shot of her her horns look more red and solid as well, even though i know it’s just the lighting

So really digging the whole Terezi is the Apple/Snake in the Garden metaphor, she has also been having that tendency to just snack on random plants, intentionally for her own or Dirk’s unaware benefit or not, it’ll make it that much easier to her actions of later betrayal to be seen as “in character and therefore expected and not dangerous” instead of pre-meditated and actually dangerous, to him

And then they start waxing about their various philosophical babble, Dirk seems really determined to also use this to try and figure out that whole problem of how other’s affect the self, he’s trying at least, I think, in his own way. But not for a good reason, not so that he can have a real understanding of that, but because he wants to use it to guard his own self even further

He’s maybe not using Rose here as an equal player, but more like a wall to bounce his own ideas off of and test them, like using a neural learning AI to test ideas or an actual literal wall in a game of table tennis.

Heh, I got a chuckle out of the fact that Dirk’s answer to the Ship of Theseus problem is “why does we even have to remove and replace parts of it, why not keep the original pristine and eternal?”

because it’s funny how avoidant of the problem that answer is, man he really really is uncomfortable with the idea of changing the self in any way

“He's avoiding the question again. It's amazing how one can technically have the maximum amount of metaphysical personal awareness possible, and still not notice these sorts of things. “

SAYS LITERALLY YOU but honestly this is just more fuel to the idea that maybe he can make a genuine connection and understanding with a person if he can recognize how he and her are the same

“It's stuff like this that makes me wonder sometimes whether there's anything about myself that I'm missing. Then I throw that wonder in the garbage can and turn the incinerate setting on.”

but nah he’s still firmly denying that possibility, he’s almost actually equating his trauma of self erosion with the idea that making friends and understanding others changes the self in subtle ways as well

He can’t even stand the thought of his own close friends influencing him to be different in small subtle ways or adjusting his behavior for others because that STILL counts as a change of self that he didn’t authorize or choose. 

Also can’t help but by be reminded of my wacky little fan made Gamma session I made forever ago by them using the name Delta-Detritus and basically be like alright, what if we do SBURB again but BETTER/worse this time?? Which is essentially the thread that most Homestuck fix it fanfiction tends to go towards

Though I am curious now

We got A/Alpha for Alternia which is based of off “Alternate” introducing the trolls as an alternate race to Human Earth

B/Beta for Beforus which is based of off “Before” introducing the planet of trolls that came before the first group

And then Earth C, now, there isn’t a letter C, the third in the greek alphabet is actually Γγ Gamma, (and the fourth is  ΔδDelta)

So I wonder what “name” Earth C really has?

It feels like it should either start with C OR with GA, as Alternia starts with the AL of Alpha, Beforus starts with the BE of Beta and same with Deltritus and Delta

As as “Another for Earth” Gaia isn’t a terrible option all things considered, now you just have to make it sound like a word which describes it’s use to the narrative

It’s is a very split place, having the two timelimes Meat and Candy associated with it, as well it does feel extremely mercurial in nature, being a sort of crosswords between Homestuck and Homesquared proper, and really exists in a place between stories, an ephemeral epilogue of sorts

really a merger of Gaia and Gemini feels the most appropriate here, like Gamini, also the word mini stands out in there as well, knowing that this Planet is sort of on a lesser status compared to the other three since it’s not going to be the birthplace of a session, also has the word Game in it

But then people will wonder why it doesn’t begin with a C since it still is called Earth C so *shrug*  

Honestly C K and G sounds are all very similar in the tongue, so maybe it’s both Camini and Gamini at the same time OH FUCK CA AND GA, ONE HAS CALLIOPE ONE HAS GAMZEE? SHIT IM ONTO SOMETHING (no im not)

I like Camini now better, it comes from a place of Gamma/Gamzee/Game/Gemini but ends up being more about the twinned Ca’s that were used to, Caliborn and Calliope and fits with the establish Earth C theme

So there you go, Earth C’s actual planet name should be Camini 

which also works because: 

Camini

home stove/furnace

smelting/foundry furnace, forge

vent (underground fires)

according to the latin language this word also has multiple meanings and many Irons in the Fire, I think the fandom will appreciate the name haha

Yeah both races are definitely going to both be playing one game of SBURB, despite what Dirk is intending, the pic does make it really clear

There’s something to say how Dirk seems to be represented by Purple and Rose by Orange in this here and then how all of the cave is a backdrop of that same purple.

Look at even the controllers on the machine having purple and orange knobs, even being solely on Dirk’s side of the image

I guess Dirk intends himself to be the force behind Derse, since that’s the force that always “wins” and Rose fitting in her place as the ultimate loser (since of course Dirk will want to win his own game) but also to be like Skaia the force of Prospit

So Dirk intends to be a whisperer like a horrorterror, choosing to manifest his influence that way, while Rose will give visions to her race like Skaia?

makes sense honestly

but again even with the themes of duality, the theme of the trio is bright and center in that piece of ultimately technology, the third influence hidden unseen in the furthest corner behind the curtain of snakelike tubes and wires that Dirk will not expect to interfere, or even have the capability to interfere, Terezi

heck it’s even in the buttons next to the controls being colored red blue and green

there’s so much duality in homestick with destructive red and creative green but then there’s also always been that mercurial breathy blue as the third

God, tell me that doesn’t look like a baby proto horrorterror

I can hear it raging it’s revenge against it’s cruel human creators even as I type

No wonder they become associated with destruction, they know theyre the pawns of two heartless cruel god children playing at life like it was a game

Rose you MUST KNOW how bad this is, it’s not a theoretical discussion anymore, that things exists and is alive and has feelings and you did it to that

and that thing is technically a Dirk too

Is this how Dirk get’s his revelation? Or downfall? As his Heart is unwittingly invaded by the horrified cacophanous screams of his grotesque tortured progeny crying out for his blood?

His end unintentionally ending up as the thing he feared most? Inner self destruction caused by his own sharp and bloody splinters turned and pointed inward, tearing himself apart with the pieces of his own Soul? Caused by his own Hubris?

I will say typing that all out is pretty good

I’m just sad the same will probably happen to Rose too though ): Maybe she’ll make careful more humane species? Something that has the potential to exist and be happy as it’s own creature while Dirk just creates monstrosities forever in conflict with Rose’s race?

They’ll each be the master of their own eventually destinies I suppose but Homestuck seems to have a good track record so far of the Ultimate Female Creator being out to protect the happiness of the children that exist in her creation while the Ultimate Male God just ends up destroying everything in his

#Homesquared #Homestuck^2 #Dirk Strider #Rose Lalonde #Terezi Pyrope #long post

[treatian]

The Chronicles of the Dark One:  The Dark Curse

Chapter 56:  Into the Hat

"Oz is officially under new management," Jefferson proclaimed, stepping into his tower after nearly a month away. It never ceased to amaze him just how swiftly and easily the boy could appear and disappear and reappear and act as though nothing had happened. A lot had happened. But he seemed only interested in discussing what had happened in Oz and not what had happened in his own world. Not that he minded, of course, the Dark One never was one for talking.

"New management, you say?" as Jefferson plopped down in the easy chair by the tower fire and began to spread out as though he hadn't seen a cushion in a lifetime. Maybe he hadn't. Who knew where he'd been sleeping. It wasn't his concern.

"Wizard has gone missing, not long after you sent me actually. No one knows where he is, but the woman who has taken up residence in the Emerald City is a woman who calls herself the Wicked Witch."

"Interesting."

"Indeed, especially since she matches the décor so well. Word on the street is that this witch is green."

"Green?"

"Supposedly," he shrugged. "I gotta say, I always thought the Wizard was a fraud, but this girl seems to be the real deal. She's a fan of flying around on a magic broom, and she keeps a flying monkey with her. Now, the people of Oz are all saying it's different things, but I have a different theory. If you ask me, I say that someone finally taught the old Wizard a magic lesson that ended badly."

"Well…" he sighed, walking over to sit in the chair opposite the boy. "I have no reason to dispute your theory, only reason to trust it."

"I'll take that as a vote of confidence," Jefferson shrugged, reaching up to pull the hat off his head. He was tired. He could see that in the way he was flopped over the sofa right now, his head back looking at the ceiling. He had a feeling that if he left him there too long, he might fall asleep.

"I don't suppose you found out anything about the young lady I sent you there for."

"Zelena…daughter of a woodcutter in his good ole days and a drunk in most recent ones. The girl was missing. The drunk was dead. Apparently, without the girl there to keep him, he drank himself to death. I found him buried beside his wife, who died earlier of some disease. No one had any idea where Zelena had gone, but a couple said she was bound to run away someday. They seemed quite relieved to be honest. Her father sounds like he was a real piece of work and they said the girl was always a bit 'odd'. Their words, not mine."

"Mmm…"

"Oh," he muttered, suddenly sitting up. "I'm sorry, I tried to get into the castle, but I was only successful the first couple of times, before the Wicked Witch took over. Afterward, security increased. Turns out flying monkeys make better guards than humans. Go figure. I'll try again soon."

That was…disappointing. But it wasn't defeating. After the way things ended with Zelena and then Ursula, he was invested in Regina again and had taken to recognizing the strength of what he had instead of what he hadn't. Jefferson, irritating as the boy was, was a profitable relationship in a number of ways. But up against Zelena, he was just a man with a magical hat. He'd rather no information from him than lose Jefferson to Zelena's rage. Not that he'd ever admit that to him, of course. Jefferson's head was big enough; he didn't need it to get bigger. Nor did he need him to think that he enjoyed it when the lad chose to stay in the castle between jumping realms. He didn't enjoy it. But at a time like this, he had to admit it was conveinent, to say the least.

As for Zelena…well she was certainly one to keep an eye on, but from a distance. He had a feeling that she wasn't about to rear her head at him for a while, especially not after taking control of the Land of Oz. No, that wasn't her style. He'd hear from her again one day, but he didn't think it would be for a while. And as for how…he hadn't a clue. The witch was crazy enough to come up with anything, and trying to get into her head was something he'd rather not do when he had access to Regina, the proper sister.

He had yet to tell Regina about Zelena and likely he never would tell her. He didn't see the point. For his purposes, he felt that she'd work better without knowing, and for her own purposes, he felt she was better off without that relationship. He would rather focus on the relationships that Regina had now; those that she had and needed to build, those that needed a little more poison, and those that she needed to leave behind for good. Which served as a reminder...

"Good…in the meantime, I 'd like you to take me someplace."

Jefferson's eyes, which had been closed in the silence, suddenly popped open and he looked down his chest at him. "You?" he questioned with surprise before sitting up. "I'm finally taking you with me?"

"So it would seem," he confirmed. "There is a deal I'm going to have to make in the future, and I believe it's time to begin the process."

"Alright," Jefferson said, shooting to his feet and holding tight to his hat. "Where are we going?"

His Youth was astounding. Five seconds ago the boy looked as though he'd been about to fall asleep, now he was bright-eyed and practically chomping at the bit to go back into the hat. He couldn't ever remember having that much energy and wondered if it was something specific to Realm Jumpers. Where they all like this, or was it just his Realm Jumper?

He ignored his inner questions to focus on Jefferson's question. He had to know where he wanted to go in order to take him there. In a flash, he summoned to him the stethoscope he'd brought him from another world.

"Him?!" Jefferson blanched.

"Him," he confirmed with a smile. "The doctor you told me about, the one trying to resurrect the dead, I want you to take me to him."

Jefferson nodded. "Sure…if he's still working, I can take you to him right now, but if not-"

"If?" he demanded. Jefferson had never given him an "if" before.

"Financial problems," he explained, his energy ebbing. "I told you the guy is nuts, thinks he can bring someone back from the dead, no one will fund him. If he still has the lab, I know where he is but if not-"

"Well, then it sounds like he needs a benefactor with no time to lose."

"Are you serious?" he asked. He didn't answer, just sent the stethoscope away and continued to stare at him with determination. "You are serious. Alright…your investments are your business, and who am I to question when they have benefited me so...selfishly."

"Who indeed, shall we?"

He shrugged, rubbed his eyes, and nodded. "No rest for the weary…let's go."

Portals still scared him. What an in informative discovery. He'd seen Jefferson come and go by way of that hat before and he knew what the portal looked like, but it amazed him that the moment it opened up he heard Baelfire's voice, saw his face, felt the dagger digging into his skin as he held on tight, unwilling to jump into the abyss. His heart was hammering, pounding against his chest, and the clothes he wore were threatening to etch an outline into his skin.

"You alright?"

Jefferson's voice sounded as though it was underwater and far away, and choosing to focus on it instead of the portal swirling around his tower, made him feel as though he'd just been doused in it. He felt cold suddenly, his skin thick and clammy as he pulled his gaze away from it to focus on the boy next to him who appeared confused and worried.

It was ridiculous. He was the bloody Dark One. He wasn't afraid of anything and that meant he wasn't afraid of portals. And even if he was, he wasn't about to let Jefferson see that he was.

"Just having a second thought!" he commented, moving across the room to a table. From it, he pulled out a drawstring bag filled with gold coins that he had intended to give to Jefferson. The boy could wait, though, The Doctor might not be able to. "Wouldn't want to be unprepared!" he joked before moving back to the portal.

"If you say so," Jefferson shrugged before looking back at the portal. "Without further ado then."

Without further ado…they jumped

#Rumbelle #Rumple #Rumpelstiltskin #Dark One #Jefferson #Oz #Zelena #Wicked Witch of the West #Regina #Evil Queen #ouat #ouat fanfiction #fanfic

[the-is13]

Pinch of Salt Pt. 2

Description:  You didn’t expect to be working tonight. It was a regular Friday night, or so you thought. Two beautiful men happen to come into the small pizza joint, one with particularly captivating hazel eyes.

Characters: Jared, Jensen, Reader, OFC’s OMC’s

Relationship: Jared x Reader

Warnings:  None really, cursing? A bit of fluff

Word Count: 1804, not as long but oh well

A/N: So this is my first fic, I read a lot but have never wrote anything. This stemmed from a dream I had. For the purpose of this fic its set in early stages of the boys filming Supernatural. Jared is a bit younger, late twenties. Him and Gen are friends but nothing more. This purely fiction! I mean no harm to J2 or their families, I love them all the to moon and back. Any hate will not be tolerated. Please be kind and let me know if you liked it!

Thanks as ALWAYS to my Alycat even after being sick you still beta for me @team-free-will-you-idjits-67 love youuu 

Part two

*Your POV*

“YOU’VE GOTTA BE KIDDING MEEEE!!!!” Hannah practically screeched on the other end of the line, nearly bursting your eardrum.

“No, Han, I would definitely not kid you about this,” you deadpanned.

“How in the world did my best friend manage to meet Jared fuckin’ Padalecki and get his number all in one night?! Girl, did you sell your soul? How is this real?” She questioned

Truthfully, you were wondering the same. No one ever showed an interest in you. Well, except for grabby drunks. Now here you were with a tv star’s phone number and a supernaturally hot one at that.

“Ha, I really dunno Han, but I’m pretty sure I didn’t sell my soul. I think I would remember.” You laughed slightly at her statement of selling your soul.

Hannah had always been a character, it's why you got along so well. She was the crazy to your normal. You were two halves of the same piece. She pushed you when you needed it and you toned her down when she became too much.

When she graduated college with some scientifically geological degree she moved off to Denver to pursue her career, which you still weren't exactly sure what it was, but you supported her through and through. That left you all alone in San Antonio. You were supposed to stay here together and live the dream. Although you were still trying to figure out what that dream was, you were supposed to do it together, just like everything else in life.

But in traditional Hannah fashion, she fell in love with the environment and decided she was going to do everything she could to save it. You were a little sad that she wanted to move away after graduation, but she always promised to visit, even if it had been a little while.

You just missed your best friend. You were too caught up in wishing she was here with you freaking out alongside, that you momentarily zoned out.

“Y/N?! You still with me here?? Heeelllloooo..” She said trying to catch your attention.

“Yeah, sorry Han, I’m here. I just wish you were here with me. You know I miss you and our girl talk.” You said with a bit of sadness in your voice that didn’t go unnoticed.

“Sweetie, I know, as do I. You just need to put yourself out there and make some friends.” She replied sympathetically with a tinge of hurt lacing her words.

“But you’re my friend Hannah.. No one is going to know me as well as you,” You laughed half heartedly trying to lighten the mood, “I’m not sure I want anyone to know me like you do.”

She chuckled lightly but, as always, could see right through your rouse. You could hear her sigh through the phone, you knew what was coming next, she was about to whip you into shape.

“Y/n,“ Uh oh, mom voice, it was definitely coming. “I know I left you for work, but that does not mean you need to throw a little pity party for yourself. I’ve been gone for 8 months! You can’t be a hermit as much as I know you’d like that, you need to put yourself out there.” Another sigh lingered through the phone “I know you’re feeling overwhelmed, you miss me, you miss mom, but I think that you’ve hit a wall and Jaaaared,” She drawled out his name almost seductively, “Is going to be the one to break through it! When was the last time you got laid?!”

You nearly choked on the water you had been drinking listening to her monologue spitting it all over your lap. “Uh-eh, what?! Why does it matter? My love life has nothing to do with this!” You exclaimed.

“Excuse me! Yes it does! You’ve been so uptight since Cole and what was that? Two years ago??” She exclaimed with a hint of irritation.

Getting slightly irritated with her tone you snarked back, “You know very well what me and Cole had was complicated and he’s the one who decided to cheat! That asshole was fucking with her for seven months behind my back!”

“This is my point, you’re wound up, you need to get laid, like now.” She huffed back at you.

“Okay, whatever, besides the point. What in the world makes you think that Jared is going to sleep with me?! He probably just feels sorry me.” Now it was your turn to sigh. “I’m so pathetic and he knows it, I definitely don’t need sympathy sex, and god knows Jared Padalecki isn’t going to give it to me.” You whined.

“Alright y/n do NOT make me jump through this phone and beat your ass!” Hanah yelled at you. “He obviously gave you his number for a reason! Why can’t you just give him a chance? Who cares if he’s famous? Maybe he just wants to have a normal life and maybe you can give it to him?” She questioned.

You really didn’t know how to answer, you never thought of it like that. You had been too wrapped up in feeling sorry for yourself that it never crossed your mind that Jared might want normal. What did that even mean? Normal. Your life was normal, a bit boring, but fairly normal.

A fuzzy voice snapped you back to reality and out of your thoughts. “Y/N! Are you listening to me, like at all?”

You cleared your throat, “What? Of course, Han. I’m always listening to you.”

“Uh-huh, sure.” She snipped back before sighing into the phone once more, “Just give him a chance, please. He might be the thing you need. A friend and maybe even one with benefits at that.”  You could practically hear her wiggling her brows.

“Haaaaan-” You were about to reprimand her for being so vulgar, but didn’t get the chance as your phone chimed in your ear. “Just a sec, I think someone texted me...” You told her, pulling your phone away from your face.

You clicked open your messages wondering who would be texting you at this hour as you glanced at the clock on your phone, 11:54pm. Wow, you didn’t think two hours could’ve passed so quickly, but then again, when you talked to Hannah time always seemed to fly.

Going back to your messages you opened it and screamed out loud which had Hannah effectively screaming on the other end as well.

11:53pm: I really did have a good time tonight, I don’t want to seem like I’m coming on too strong but I really wanna get to know you better. I have to fly back out to Vancouver tomorrow afternoon, but I would really love it if you could join me for coffee. :)  -Jare

You were stunned. You couldn’t even breathe. Hannah yelling through the phone at you barely registered in your ears as your heart was pounding so hard.

“Holy shit,” You whispered

By some miracle you came back to reality. Ignoring the yelling on the other end of the line you brought your phone back to your face.

“It was him..” Was all you could muster.

“IT WAS WHO?? I NEED SPECIFICS, DETAILS, GOD, Y/N, DON’T BE VAGUE!” She continued to scream.

“Jared” You whispered. “I-it was him.. H-he wants to meet..”

“WHAT! What did I tell you?? I’m always right and you know it!” She snarked. “Now what’re you going to say? ‘Yes’ obviously, but you gotta be cool, let's face it y/n/n, you’re two gray hairs from being more lame than Mema, and you knoooow she’s lame. I mean, who eats dinner at 3pm and goes to bed at 6?!”

“I am not!” You huffed. Although, as usual, Hannah was right. You were lame. You didn’t have a life outside of work. You just sat at home and watched Netflix or read a book. ‘God I am so lame,’ you sighed to yourself.  

“Whatever you want to tell yourself y/n/n. Anyways, you need to play it cool, be cute and seductive, but not needy or desperate.” She quipped

“Well thanks for the confidence boost Han,” You deadpanned. “I’m going to let you go so I can think of a ‘witty’ reply.”

“Urg, fine, but you better let me know everything!!” She whined. “Night, love you jerk.”

“Night, love you too. I’ll talk to you tomorrow. I promise, bitch.” You replied hastily.

After hanging up with Hannah, you proceeded to just stare at the message from Jared. What should you say? Trying to take your friend’s advice in not sounding as lame as you were, you began typing a reply. After almost ten minutes of typing, deleting, and retyping you had come up with a decent reply and you didn’t want to keep Jared waiting any longer since it was already past midnight.

12:13am: Hey, yeah that sounds nice. Wish we had a little more time though. I’d love to get a coffee, there’s a shop down on broadway st, it's amazing! Know the place?

Sent.

“God I hope this wasn’t a mistake,” Saying to no one imparticular as you thought out loud.

Watching the little text dots pop up almost immediately had your heart beating out of your chest.

Chime

12:15am: Yes I actually do know that place, you’re right. It is amazing, and I love their muffins! They’re like as big as your face! Can we meet at 10? - Jare

Oh lord, he was in. He was actually in, he agreed to meet you, again, after the horrible shipwreck at dinner you really didn’t think any of this was going to happen.

Typing a quick reply not wanting to keep him awake, I mean this is Jared Padalecki he needs his beauty sleep. Yes, beauty sleep, you internally sighed to yourself getting lost in the thoughts of how truly beautiful Jared really was.

You looked back down at your phone to make sure the message sent, of course not, so uncoordinated. Clicking the send button you anxiously waited for a reply.

12:19am: Ha, you’re right the muffins are HUGE! 10 sounds perfect I’ll see you there, goodnight!

His text bubbles took a little longer, of course you kept him waiting too long.

12:21am: Perfect. See you then, g’night. Xo - Jare

You read the message over and over until your eyes felt like crossing. He sent you ‘xo’. “X FREAKING O” you exclaimed loudly to yourself.

You quickly sent Hannah a text briefly telling her what was going on. Before waiting for her reply you locked your phone, avoiding another two hour phone call.

Making sure your alarm was set for promptly 7:30am you cuddled up in your bed and fell asleep, thinking of Jared.

You were going on a date with Jared Padalecki. 

A/N: Hope you liked this part. I’m still very new to this. Tell me your favorite part I LOVE feedback since I'm brand new. I will write a third, not sure post date, but maybe sooner than later if I get feedback!

POS tags

@crystallstaircase @squirelnotsam @allaboutthebooz @team-free-will-you-idjits-67 @squirrelnotsam

#supernatural rpf#jared padalecki fanfiction#jensen ackles fanfiction#jared padalecki x reader#jared padalecki fluff#supernatural fanfiction#supernatural fluff#jared padalecki and reader#sam winchester fluff#sam winchester fanfiction

#supernatural #supernatural rpf #jared padalecki #jared Padalecki fanfiction #jared padalecki x reader #jared padalecki fluff #jared padalecki and reader #sam winchester #sam winchester fanfictions

[letmeringabell]

Legends Never Die - Chapter 2

Chapter 2 : Fancy Meetin’ Ya

I know, I'm posting really fast. But you've just gotta let the creative juices flow before I experience untimely burn-out that makes it harder to write. On the side-note, I really love Ada Wong's design, I think there's something just so mysterious and pretty about her design. So, imagine Vanessa as Ada.

Why Vanessa? Well, I only liked Vanessa because you could shorten it to Van. I also considered Vesper, and Diana, which I think are suitable names.

Also, can you tell I'm a fan of longing glances and slow burn? Yeah, I eat that shit up. I'm a sucker for fics of these cliches, and I always wanna die. But anyway, do tell me what you think of this chapter, whether I'm going too fast, too slow, whether i'm writing too much or too little. If you have any headcanons or scenarios, tell me now or forever hold your peace. Or do I forever hold my peace? I don't know man.

(3185 words)

AO3 link : https://archiveofourown.org/works/20806688/chapters/49454489

-

The flurry of sand and desert heat hadn’t been too kind on him, but when has Outworld weather been known for Southern hospitality? Nevertheless, he counts his lucky stars that he’s finally back, because the last mission has his bones ragged. The last mission hadn’t been hard, just tiresome; One of Kotal’s ‘trusted’ partner had been selling Imperial secrets behind his back, and who better but Erron Black to chase the bugger down?

Only this partner was highly elusive—Sending him high and low, left and right, and running all around to catch a whiff of the man. He had roamed from city to city, from village to village, and his target manages to sneak away at the last moment each time. The whole cat-and-mouse chase is enough to drive any man insane, but the cowboy isn’t deterred by the challenge so arrogantly posed. In fact, he waits, bides his time on the down-low patiently for any misstep by his target.

Although, a word from the wise is overdue; One must never let their guard down during a chase, especially when the predator had been the masked marauder himself.

Yet all it takes is one afternoon for the man to forget, wondering through busy markets without a care in the world, while Erron patiently stakes out in a room of one of the buildings nearby with his rifle aimed surreptitiously at the man’s head. The reminder had been fatal; All it takes is one shot, and the man falls without a sound.

The chaos that ensues after makes up for the silence in the man’s death. Everyone gathers around the corpse, and screams at the horror of the whole situation. He feels no need to wait around and collect the man’s body; The news of that man’s death will travel around, and that is proof enough that he had been successful in his headhunting. Nature had given everyone something to fall back on, and sooner or later, someone’s gotta fall on it.

And this time, it was that man’s turn to fall.

And it was his time to tap out for the night, had enough of all these games of cat-and-mouse. Gotta rest the old bones before conquering the days ahead.

Imagine his surprise when he got back to the Palace, to see the place filled to the brim with Special Forces units. He sees the Kahn having a conversation with the Commander, and saunters towards them, ignoring the hushed whispers on the sidelines.

“Hola, Miss Cassie Cage.”

“Erron, how awful it is to see you.”

“I assure you Darlin’, the feelings mutual,” He shoots back, “What brings you over to our humble abode?”

It is Kotal that cuts through their ‘cordial’ banter, “I have invited Special Forces here to help strengthen our ties with Earthrealm. Kitana and Jade will take care of their day-to-day needs, you will overlook their sparring sessions.”

Erron glares at the Kahn, but he lets it slide – The Kahn always compensates for his time generously. It is what keeps him loyal, and motivates him to undertake all sorts of janky missions for the sovereign. There is never a dull time serving Kotal, and he appreciates the unpredictability in his missions. It keeps him preoccupied, and least of all, keeps him entertained.

He excuses himself and leaves the Kahn and Commander to their affairs. Besides, he has an errand to attend to; A drop-off of rare medicinal herbs for the doctors at the Infirmary. All of them had requested for this specific breed of Spider Lilly, said it was good for re-energizing the tired soul. He could care less about the methods used in re-creating that effect, what mattered was the results.

He doesn’t bother with knocking when he enters the Infirmary. They know it’s him by the sound of his footsteps and they scramble to surround him like moths to a flame. He hands over the flower, and they thank him profusely. Appreciation and gratitude are good for the soul, but when a man’s tired, nothing sounded more tempting than a sip of whiskey and a comfortable bed to sleep on.

He looks up and catches sight of a woman leaning against the doorway of the unused office. Short raven hair, equally dark eyes, and she stands hardly the height of Sonya nor Cassie Cage (at least, from this distance), but looks strong enough to easily throw a man over her shoulder should he look at her the wrong way – Fitting, for a person working in the Special Forces.

It doesn’t hurt that she’s easy on the eyes as well. So, he tips his hat off to her, Howdy unspoken in his greeting towards her. He knows she can’t miss it, because he catches her in the act of sizing him up as well. Yet, she seemed confused, and a little curious? Nevertheless, she seemed to return the gesture with a small nod of her own before closing the door to retreat into the room.

“Who is she?”

She is one of the Doctors from Special Forces, one of them had replied. She had been part of the Special Forces Delegation, and assigned to the medical unit in the Palace infirmary. She came to learn and bring back Outworlds treatments and cures back to Earthrealm. A question pops into his head-- Aren’t Earthrealm’s medical practice vastly different from Outworld? In Outworld, doctors use high-level magicks to heal wounds of all variety—Burns, grazes, you name it. Given the supernatural nature of Outworlds modern medicine, he highly doubts she can learn anything from these doctors who uses spells instead of science.

 (Then again, the only thing he knows of medicinal remedies is when his own Pa spat whiskey into his wounds, and damn, the pain had been one sonuvabitch to swallow)

-

“The Valerian root helps patients deal with their anxiety, a form of sedative, one might say. But taken in large and uncontrolled amounts, only backfires and induces insomnia.”

“What about this?”

“The Goldenseal root is used as an antiseptic. Again, if consumed in large amounts, is highly poisonous and will only further irritate the eye and skin.”

“And this?”

“The Echinacea leaf is commonly used to prevent flus or colds, but long-term use could disturb the body’s immune system.”

“Basically, too much of anything is a bad thing.”

-

Making medicine with the herbs and plants found in Outworld is challenging. The art of making medicine in Outworld, she finds, is similar to chemistry – If she places too little of one herb, the supposed effects don’t flourish and are made redundant because it is overpowered by the potency of other herbs. Yet, if carelessness had been her approach, she could easily induce unknown side-effects, or worse, actually kill a person. Thus, the delicate balance of underwhelming and catastrophic are outcomes she monitors like a hawk.

She enjoys this side of her work nonetheless. It allows her to better understand the more traditional aspects of her work, and expand on more creative options should modern medicine fail in being readily available.

However, the paperwork, and regular inventory checks are cumbersome all the same. Her rationale is that sometimes, you’ve just got to sit through the unsavory parts of the job so that you can reap its benefits. That doesn’t mean she can’t silently complain about how uneventful some days, or how stagnant her progress in learning can be. It’s become a point of contention, and it’s only been 2 weeks since her first day in Outworld. Her hands are itching for something new to work on.

Bored eyes cast sweeping glances over the city, and of course, she catches a glimpse of the cowboy himself. Ah, today is the training session between Outworld and Special Forces’ Soldiers. He is relaxed; There is a slight slouch in his posture, and he didn’t seem too interested in the body-tossing action happening right before him. She can tell, that he is still hypervigilant – His arms are at his side, and are steadily poised beside the holsters on his pants. All it takes is one motion to swipe his pistol up, and BANG!

And as much as she hates to admit it, her thoughts do float around the masked man she had met, no, seen. She hadn’t talked to him, nor has she passed him by in the past 2 weeks. She had asked her colleagues about the man, and the responses she had gotten were strangely varied – ‘He’s the Kahn’s main headhunter’, ‘A man who knows how to drink any man under the table’, and ‘Save a horse, ride a cowboy’. The last phrase had been told, but felt unneeded. Any person’s business under the sheets, is nothing she wants to know about. Least of all, his business.

But you are curious, a small voice whispers in the back of her mind, He is the leading man shrouded in mystery and danger.

She reprimanded herself; There are other things to be curious about.

-

The whole day has been a bore, and its starting to make his hands itch and fret restlessly. Apparently, today’s training session had been requested by Miss Cage, what better way there is to strengthen the bonds of friendship than participating in friendly kombat? He could just shut one eye, and believe her desire for camaraderie between soldiers of two realms, but he can see through her bullshit as clear as day, and it makes him raise a wary brow at the Commander.

The logic behind her unspoken reason had been sound – It is best to fight as many types of kombatants as you can, provided that one chooses their opponents well. Any Tom, Dick and Harry can get the theory down easy. But if you don’t have the practice, the real hand-to-hand experience, one can only expect to have their asses handed to them over and over again. Face-to-face Kombat allows fighters to exercise their real-time reactions, gives them the chance to better their reflexes and recognize the precise moment to either move forward and attack, or retract and defend.

So, today is a masterclass in Outworld Kombat for the Special Forces. However, the session is but a double-edged sword. Just as the Special Forces had come to learn and observe, the army had come prepared to do the same.

His eyes search for any telltale of black within the sea of browns and blondes, and is only greeted by her absence in return. He wants to make her acquaintance, and knows that she is a doctor for the Special Forces. That doesn’t give him the right to be waltzing into her office without any sort of official business. It would only invite talks of rumors and gossip to fly around, and he would be doing them both a favor by abstaining from such behavior.

So, what’s a man to do to earn his trip to the doctor’s office without seeming like such an ass?

He looks at Miss Cage, unless, the stirrings of a brilliant idea come to mind.

-

“Yo, Clint Eastwood! You too chicken to step into the Kumite zone with me?”

“Put your money where that mouth is, darlin’.”

-

So maybe he had been a little harsh, but Cassie had no qualms with dishing out her own brand of revenge – One rapid, well-timed kick to the core followed by a solid punch to his face. A just reward for insulting a beloved father. Outworld Soldiers are surprised by his lack of vigor in the fight, but none of Special Forces are surprised that Cassie is fierce in defending her family’s honor.

His face might hurt, and his pride a little wounded, but the fight had yielded results. He is sent to the Infirmary to await doctor’s treatment.

He waits because she is out for the moment, so he takes the chance to look around the room. There is nothing out of the ordinary; There is a couch placed near the door to welcome guests (or, patients), the books are shelved back-to-back against each other, and labelled for trouble-free browsing. He finds that most of the books are medical in nature, save for a select few in herbology and astronomy. A doctor must have her hobbies, he digresses. Everything on the desk is neatly arranged with each item assigned their designated corners; stationeries in one corner and a stack of papers in the other.

He picks up the top most paper on the pile, and lets his eyes roam over the elegant handwriting. He thinks she could easily be an artist because the sketches of various flowers and herbs are so lifelike, they mimic the figure of their real-life counterpart. There are arrows pointing to formulas and possible side-effects everywhere, and although her workspace maybe organized, her notes are just a jumbled mess.

But he admires her tenacity in the research because her notes are an impressive study in Outworld’s green.

Clack!

He turns around, and speak of the devil; She is there in the flesh, and a lot taller than he remembers.

“I’m sorry for the wait. My name is Vanessa, and I will be attending to you this evening.”

She ushers him to the seat beside her table, and begins her task; She listens to his heartbeat, flashes a light into his eyes, and asks him the routine, “Where do you feel pain?” and “Does your family have a history of serious diseases?”. He answers honestly and concisely – It’s just my face, and, I reckon not. She faithfully jots down whatever he says down into a piece of paper, and reaches for something in one of the drawers.

“First off,” She starts, and he sees a medical kit being placed on the table, “I can save you the trouble and stitch your wound now, but you’re also free to leave if you don’t want my medical attention, because in my understanding, Outworld has different and better ways to treat you. So, what will it be?”

Straight to business. “Have on, Miss Vanessa.”

She moves silently and deftly—She is quick at work to prepare all of the equipment, and arranges them in immaculate order on the tray in front of her. She disinfects the problem area, before filling the syringe with a clear liquid from one of the labeled bottles, and once he nods her assent, injects the anesthesia to help numb the pain during the stitching process.

Her gloved hands move nimbly, suture in one hand and the needle holder in the other, the constant loop of entry and exit is executed with practiced ease. Her hands don’t tremble, nor do they hesitate in fear of misstep. She is sure and confident with each push-and-pull, and it assures him that she is not without skill.

He takes the time now, to take a proper and closer look at her. Her short hair accentuates the high cheekbones and angular sharpness of her facial features and her eyes are a darkened grey; a reminder of misty mornings, and ominous fog. Her skin is glass-like, clear, no visible scar or blemish in sight. He spots the light dusting of freckles on tanned skin, no doubt, a result from the sun and heat of Outworld. She is what a cat would look like in flesh and blood, a thought he keeps safely to himself.

He will admit, she is a pretty little thing. Even so, the minute slouch in her posture, the mistiness and redness in her eyes, and the prominent dark circles under them is very telling. Underneath all that loveliness, is a woman exhausted. Whether it is the research or the field work that has her running on low fuel, he reckons that she could do with a few more hours of sleep.

She starts talking, her voice a soothing cadence to distract from the obvious monotone in the environment, “How did you get these wounds?”

“A souvenir from the past assignment, a man had gotten close enough to graze me with his knife, but not smart enough to actually kill me.”

“And why does your face hurt?”

“That’s a souvenir from your Commander,” He catches the question in her eyes, and the amused tilt of her lips, “That clown and his ten-gallon mouth deserved all the insults.”

“You really are a glutton for punishment,” She chuckles, sealing the stitch shut.

She gives him the standard doctor’s order – Rest and no sudden movements, or else he would risk exposing himself to an infection due to his torn stitches. He’s heard it all, from day one until day now, but he is thankful that she keeps it short and sweet.

“Do you sleep well, Mr. Black?” She interrupts him leaving, pulls out a bottle for him to see. “You can take it, it’s free.”

“Well, look who we have here, a doctor playing crafty salesman on a hot Sunday afternoon. Nothing in this world comes for free, so what’s the catch?”

She raises her arms in mock defeat, her expression is full of mirth, and a playful smile reaches her eyes, “Okay, it’s not FDA approved yet, but I know for a fact that it works. Cassie uses it, Jacqui uses it, and a few hundred others can also attest to its success.”

He raises a curious brow at her, a sign for her to continue her sales pitch. No matter how much she tries to hide it, he can tell that she is proud of her creation, because her voice is full of it, “It helps eases tenseness, and makes sleep easier, but unlike other soporific drugs, it doesn’t bring about excessive drowsiness, so you’re still able to react appropriately to any possible threats.”

Soporific, what a five-dollar word.

But he has something else in mind, because he leans in and places both arms rigidly on the arms of her chair, effectively trapping and confining her in the tight space between his arms. He leans towards her, and stops when the gap between them is nose-to-nose. He admits that he is shameless and forward in his flirting, but he wants to see how she would respond-- would she retreat further into her seat, or would she lean forward, would she bridge the gap between them?

So, she responds, neither further nor retreating. She stays still in her position; Her hands are firmly placed in her lap, while her grey eyes are staring straight back at him, her gaze sharpening into that of gentle steel.

“Hey Van, I was wondering if you had- Oh.”

Both of them immediately turn their heads towards Jacqui, the deer in headlights. Jacqui is full of apologies, because she is standing there, stumbling over her words, and says sorry over and over again for disturbing whatever doctor-patient examination they were having, and speeds out of the room faster than the pace she came in. Jacqui’s interruption breaks whatever tension, anticipation and apprehension swimming in the room, and it calms and cools the heat between them.

The Cowboy finally stands straight, his smirk hidden behind his mask and makes his way for the door.

“I’ll see you around, Miss Vanessa.”

#erron black #Mortal kombat 11 #mortal kombat fanfiction #cassie cage #jacqui briggs #johnny cage #Erron Black x F!OC #Slow burn #Fuck-me eyes #mk 11 #mk

[no-error]

How about some klance smut?

!This is pure smut!

If you dont like just ignore this :)

Space

(don't) hold my breath

Keith finds out a very important skill that Lance has: that he can hold his breath for a long time. He adds it to the list of reasons he’s pining after Lance—his right hand man, his teammate, his friend.

See also: sad desert boy falls hopelessly in love with self-proclaimed mermaid boy with a heart of gold. Watch these two oblivious idiots find their home in each other.

8,658 words   AO3

Lucky Habits

Lance has a habit of licking his lips before he takes particularly difficult shots with his blaster.

Keith has begun to notice said habit and it's slowly driving him mad.

Thankfully, Lance isn't as oblivious as he seems.

9,485 words   AO3

Hopelessly Devoted

“There he is,” Lance grinned, wide enough to break the kiss. He looked so damned satisfied, already. “There's my boy.”

4916 words  AO3

Take Me, I'm Yours

An unfortunate coincidence leads to Keith hiding in a closet, while Lance gets it on with an alien woman outside. It changes everything.

Keith can't erase the sight from his mind. He can't sleep, he can't fight. He can't control himself.

There is nothing he can do except swallow his pride and ask Lance for a favor.

He should have known he would have to beg for it.

6,732 words   AO3

Pix Or It Didn't Happen

Giving a whole new meaning to team bonding, Allura and Lance jointly plan a photography (read selfie) contest. Allura's contribution? Put the paladins in pairs for picture taking. Even before the teams were 'randomly' selected, Keith could have told you who he'd end up paired with. It goes about as well as could be expected.

14,690 words   AO3

Boys Will Be Boys    

There’s blood in his mouth, blood dripping from his nose, blood in his hair from where Keith fucking scratched him, blood boiling in his veins and clouding his vision with red. There’s too much blood for a friendly sparring session, that’s for sure.

This isn’t a friendly sparring session, not anymore.

6,736 words   AO3

I just wanna make love to you

Both Paladin and Blade stood in silence for almost a full minute, staring at each other with indiscernible expressions (or at least Lance thinks the latter is, can’t really tell with the identity protecting mask adorning their face.)

Before he can stop himself, he opens his mouth with a smirk curling at his lips.

“You come here often?” Lance asks, tilting his head coyly.

26,736 words   AO3

Research Purposes    

In retrospect, Lance knew he was overreacting. Thinking about it just a little too hard.  He just didn't consider Keith would ever be- Nah, actually, he wasn't that surprised... Did that mean Keith had totally been checking him out? Did he think he was hot? Would dudes be into him? What was it like to mess around with dudes? Was Keith experienced with that sort of thing? He just needed to know. For... science?

(In which Keith mentions something that reveals he's gay, Lance is excessively shocked, and everyone else already knew because it wasn't even a secret. In short, Lance is an oblivious idiot and finally accepts his bisexuality.)

10796 words   AO3

You Always Say the Stupidest Shit

"I know what your problem is," Lance interrupts, pointing a finger at him and smirking as though he's just personally discovered the deepest secret of the universe. God only knows why Keith stops talking then, but in hindsight, he wishes he'd have just gotten louder.

"You need to get laid," Lance announces.

13,370 words   AO3

The Royal Treatment    (Altean Lance/Galra Keith!)

“You’ve met me, congratulations,” Keith said shortly.

“Now go meet someone else.

”“Ouch,” he said. “And that’s not true; I don’t even know your name yet!”Keith wrinkled his nose. Maybe telling this irksome creature his title would scare him off. “I am Lord Kethyr, second son of Emperor Zarkon,” he retorted.

“Satisfied now?”

The Altean, unfortunately, was not deterred in the slightest by this. “Ooh, a royal? How exciting. I’m Lance.”

11,998 words   AO3

Modern

Don't Break Connection, Baby

(Series not completed 50,615 words 3 works)

Keith works part-time as a phone sex operator and receives a prank call from Lance. This does not go as planned for Lance. Thus begins the adventure of our dear sweet goofball continuing to call Keith to fuck with him (but not like fuck fuck with him...at least not yet). And y'know, eventually having legit conversations with him and getting attached and growing on Keith.

38,721 words   AO3

Will you sing to the Beat of my Heart?

(Musician!Keith Verse not completed 10,132 words 2 works)

Keith is a musician sometimes playing in the park Lance walks through every day. Lance falls in love—both with the music, and Keith. Keith, meanwhile, can't help but notice the cutie in the crowd. Both think there is no chance to get to know each other—but fate has a different plan.

8,833 words   AO3

Of Tinted Windows and Fancy Leather Seats

Drive Me Crazy Series not completed 9,345 words 2 works

"One last question, Keith. Do you want me to fuck you? If you say no, then I’ll leave you alone. You can also punch me if you want. But if you say yes, my car is here. Your pick, Mullet.”

5,964 words   AO3

Fuck Buddies With Benefits

“Hey babe,” the blue-eyed male in Keith’s doorway drawls, leaning his weight on one arm and smirking down at Keith from the irritating two-inch height difference between them. The guy likes taking advantage of it while he can, before Keith shoves him onto the bed and is the one looking down for once.

Keith rolls his eyes and steps aside to let Lance into his dorm room, locking the door behind them in case Shiro stops by to check on him. Shiro would likely not be impressed by Keith’s self-care methods if he found his baby cousin in bed with some guy he met at the bar, a blank document still waiting to be filled on his laptop screen.

19,183 words   AO3

The Patrulian Zone    

Lance logs in to Oriande, the dating app known for easy hook ups with no strings attached. Finding Keith, he gets exactly what he signed up for.

So how come suddenly, it doesn't feel like enough?

17,498 words   AO3

technologic

In which Lance sends Keith an accidental snapchat that somehow leads to them becoming sexting buddies.

5193 words   AO3

A/B/O

Want          (Want Series completed 83,799 words 4 works)

Lance makes the decision to sell himself for the sake of his family. The only problem is that no ones seems to want him. When Shiro buys Lance for his alpha little brother, the omega can't believe his luck.

But does Keith even want anything to do with his new gift or is Lance destined to be an unwanted omega forever?

24,695   AO3

In the heat of the moment

Lance runs out of suppressants and is outed as an Omega. Keith wants to be his alpha. So much angst, sugar sweetness, more angst, gotta have a baby, and all the lovins. Plus there's Shatt! What's not to love. Please don't get too wrapped up in timelines, dynamics, or the lack of season 4. This is fiction.

25,037 words   AO3

The Lion's Pride

When Pidge confesses to being a female alpha and not a male one, the team realizes that she's not the only one hiding something. They realize Lance isn't the alpha he's posing as but actually an omega.

As with Pidge, they want to give Lance the time he needs to come clean on his own. But the team agrees to do their best to make Lance feel comfortable, considering how highly valued omegas are in packs.

Two team/pack-members especially find this new realization fascinating. Keith and Shiro want Lance to be their own omega. But can they handle the secret Lance is hiding, the one that made him cover up his status to begin with...?

30,822 woords   AO3

Practically Strangers

(Practically Everything Series   not completed, 8,117 words 2 works)

Lance was, in all aspects, an omega. He had accepted this part of him long ago, even embraced it. Keith was, in all forms of the word, an alpha. He was also pretty much a stranger, but Lance was willing to ignore that fact in favor of, um, other things.

4,768 words AO3

Your Sex I Can Smell

Lance was in hell… or heaven depending on your outlook. But for him it was currently hell.  He’d not been expecting to go into heat, ever. Heat was an Omega thing and as far as he knew 99.9% of Omegas were chicks.

He thought he’d just be another Beta, he’d given up hopes of becoming an Alpha when he still hadn’t presented by seventeen. But to be this late… to be twenty one and only just developing it was… humiliating. And as an Omega at that. But he had a plan. He could just... disguise it. Hide his scent.

Which was great. Except now Keith was almost impossible to get near, to tease and banter and basically annoy just to get a rise out of him. Lance missed seeing his face, missed his scent. His schoolboy crush had developed into something strangely immature for a twenty one year old but potent nonetheless. But Keith wouldn't give him the time of day. At least, not until a project forced them to work together.

25,747 words   AO3

What Else Could a Virgin Omega Do?

Lance was standing where he never thought he'd be standing, in line at the front desk of the nearest Alpha Brothel.

13,831 words   AO3

Don't Forget Your Vitamins

(series not completed 13,221 words 2 works)

Lance is an omega. Keith is a beta. This was something Lance had made peace with and determined that there was no way they could ever work. No matter how much he would like it to. Saving the universe and all that didn’t leave a whole lot of time to pursue such a complicated relationship.

However, when Keith finally starts getting the food and nutrition his hybrid body needs he is finally revealed to be an alpha. As he struggles with his new presentation, Lance tries his best to be there for him and support him. But it's difficult when the guy you love is now totally capable of giving you the best sex of your life.

11,406 words   AO3

Fuck self control (but really, don't.)

Lance hadn't presented by the time they got into space, leaving him vulnerable. Everything is fine until Keith's rut, and then it isn't

8,003 words   AO3

Omegaverse Series

Suddenly all Keith can hear is Hunk’s voice yelling over the com.

“Keith! You have to get out of there. Now!”

Keith wants to ask what’s wrong, but then the smell hits him.

The sickly sweet, and unmistakable smell of an omega in heat.

He whips around and sees Lance, standing a few feet back, bracing himself against the wall. His face is flushed, and he’s breathing heavy.

“I … I don’t feel so good.”

22,606 words  3 works   AO3

kiss like it's poisonous series (not completed)

A collection of all my fics that belong to this omegaverse au. It's basically just Keith and Lance being idiots and dancing around each other for like a span of five years, and you will all get the pleasure of reading it.

43,504 words 3 works   AO3

You All Over My Skin, I'm Anxious    

The worst part of it though, was that Keith was an alpha. A stupid, hotheaded alpha that Lance couldn’t help but get in petty arguments with like they had been married for fifty years. Keith, with his stupid mullet and how stupidly good he was at hand to hand combat and how stupidly hot he sounded when training. Lance would have gotten on his knees for him in seconds if he only asked. But an alpha needed an omega, and Lance was just a stupid beta. 

5,898 words   AO3

#klance #fanfic #fanfic list #smut #lance mcclain #keith kogane #voltron #vld #my list

[eerythingisshaka]

#Fictober Day 4

“Will that be all?”

(Erik Stevens x Black!OC)

Word Count: 1.6k

Sweet, sweet Friday night has arrived and Rochelle was ready to enjoy it to the fullest.  Having started her new job, the comfort of knowing everything and being the one to call on for help was flushed away and replaced with mounds of company orientations, piles of reading materials to learn programs and regulations, and constantly getting lost coming back from lunch.  She counted her blessings to have moved on from where she was before; she is getting more pay, better benefits and it was closer to home, so she was prepared to take on all of the newbie awkwardness and feeling like a know-nothing to keep her spot.  

But now was the time to unwind for making it through the first week alive, and she knew just how to let loose.  Rochelle got rid of her office attire, showered and put her hair in a protective style before wrapping herself up in her comfy clothes and favorite Proud Family blanket on the couch.  Her studying made her miss out on her fall TV coming back, but luckily God made Hulu a thing.  

Queueing up her list, she took out her hot chips and and sweet tea to dive into the latest drama that had cooked up since last season.

Rochelle’s phone lights up, indicating a text message.  She looks at the screen to read a message from her friend, Ayla.

Hey!  Congrats on the new money, girl!  Drinks on you tonight, let’s hit up karaoke!

Rochelle squirmed with indecisiveness.  It had been a while since her and Ayla got out together but she JUST got comfortable.

Nah, I just set my hair anyway.  But maybe tomorrow?

A few minutes later.  Really?  If you don’t put a scarf on your hair and Erykah Ba-do the damn thing!

Rochelle cackled.  She loved it when she could send an LOL after actually lol’ing.

LOL, ok girl.  I was raised not to give into peer pressure.  I’m putting my foot down on this.  I’m so damn tired, sis.

Ugggghhhh, fine.  But I’m hollering at you tomorrow, so you better come through!

Rochelle tosses her phone on the table, burrowing under her covers once again as she finally calls it as night.

Halfway through the first episode, Rochelle’s stomach started to growl.  She hadn’t made it to the store all week either to reload the fridge so chips, peanut butter, and cereal were mostly all she had to make a meal of.  Rochelle couldn’t fight the hunger pains any longer, but was too settled to go pick anything up.  There was a great restaurant around the corner from her that served the best wings, burgers, fries, and anything else, greasy and Americana for someone to indulge in.

Unfortunately, the restaurant didn’t do online orders so Rochelle stretched her arm out from the warmth of her blanket to pick up her cell phone and call in.  The phone rang and rang and rang.  Must be a busy night, you thought.  The line suddenly opens up.

“Yeah?  After I covered  your fucking shifts for the damn Teyana Taylor concert, you gonna do me like this?!  Pssh, whatever nigga.  Hi, whatchu tryna get?” a man on the other line demands.

Rochelle was taken aback from the unprofessional speech she was hearing.  It wasn’t a snooty restaurant, but usually some old aunty picks up sounding sunny and accommodating.

“Hello?!”  he says, irritated.

“Oh, uh yeah.  Sorry, um I wanted to put in an order with you?”

He chuckles.  “Yeah, well I didn’t think you were calling to ask me how my day was.”  

Rochelle clears her throat.  He had a nice baritone to his voice, you could tell he was a brother at least.  “Well with what I just heard, maybe I should?”

She hears some shuffling on the phone.  “Is this a prank caller or somethin?”

She laughs apologetically.  “No, no!  Sorry, I am hungry so damn hungry, please don’t make me wait for the phone to ring and ring again.”

“Aw, yeah, my bad on that.  Well, it’s really Ralph’s bad.  His wife Sadie usually takes the calls but she is taken a leave right now.  He isn’t a people person though so he will literally ignore the rings until someone gets sick enough to answer.”

Rochelle sits up, turning down her TV.  “And he’s into Teyana Taylor?”  

He laughs genuinely.  “Nah, nah, that was my boy, Phillip.  He was closer to the phone, and act like it’s too much to PICK UP THE PHONE!”  Erik yells, presumably to Phillip.

“Ah ok.  Maybe you’ll earn Employe of the Month, since you’re so damn helpful.”  Rochelle says, smiling to herself, playing with the fuzz on her blanket.

All she hears is background noise before he continues.  “...you cute.  You sound cute too, look, where am I gonna be delivering?”  he asks.  She hears the phone adjust again.

“Oh, you deliver too?  Jack of all trades and shit?”  Rochelle lays back on the couch as she lists off her address, unable to sit still with all this flirting going on.

“Baby, I do it all.  Don’t let nobody tell you different.  What’s your name?”  She gives it to him.  “Niiice.  Ok, whatchu need?  We can’t have you goin hungry on a Friday night.  You get paid, you eat.”

“I heard that!  Ok, so I need the one pound lemon pepper wings, fry them hard…”

He groans on the other line.  “You one of those high maintenance customers, huh?”

Her mouth slacks open.  “Excuse me sir!  What happened to ‘the customer is always right’?”  

She hears him kiss his teeth.  “Shiiiit, these customer is always right about to get a foot up they ass, asking for the moon and shit.  I got you though, don’t trip.  What else?”

Rochelle’s stomach begins to grumble again.  “Uhh, I need a side of fries, and a couple of them honey butter biscuits.  Go head and add a side of potato salad.  And do y’all have the fudge brownies tonight?  Y’all always run out of those-”

“Damn girl!  You eatin, eatin!  I ain’t mad at you, when you hungry, you gotta satisfy that.  Yeah, we got them brownies, don’t even trip.  You need a drink?”  His voice has gotten lower and sounds like he is talking right into the receiver.

His voice tickles her eardrum as Rochelle sits up at his inflection on the word ‘satisfy’.  He sounded so damn fine, she hoped it was real.  

“Nah, that’s ok, you been really helpful.”  She starts to dig in her purse for her wallet.

“Ok, I guess you got juice and shit already.  That’s cool.  Ok, anything else, Ma?”  He says, as you hear paper rustling.

“No, I’m good.  Can’t wait!”  

“Ok, your total is $15.78.  I should be by around...15 minutes.  Think you can wait on me?”  

Rochelle giggles.  “I got no choice!  What’s your name, by the way?”

“It’s Erik.  Glad to be of service to you this evening.  Hold tight.”

As they hang up Rochelle grips her phone in her hands anxiously.  What the hell was all of that?  She has never flirted with a delivery boy, much less while taking the order before seeing him.  But his conversation was so smooth, and his voice so deep, authoritative, but compassionate.  She brushes it off, but that doesn’t stop her from putting on some boy shorts instead of her Looney Tunes pajama bottoms.

The knock at the door jarred Rochelle, making her jump from her concentration on her show.  She gets up, checking herself in the mirror before opening the door with the chain on.

Looking up, she sees her helpful delivery boy, bag in one hand, scratching his beard with the other as he peers as her through the crack in the door.

His almost instantaneous smile at the sight of her made Rochelle flutter, his dimples were even more poignant than the golds in his lower teeth, making her chest cave in.  

“I hope I didn’t keep you too long, ma’am.  Your order still hot though!”  He smirks, raising the bag up.

Rochelle closes the door, working the chain with a speed untapped before.  He didn’t look like no cook she ever seen before.  They were always the biggest flirts with the ashiest appearance, but Erik looked like the Cinderella version.  Opening the door completely, a shared exchange of onceovers says what words can’t.

“So you certainly do deliver.”  Rochelle says, putting on her grown and sexy voice.

Erik shrugs.  “Like I said, I do it all.  I got you.”

“Where my drink then?”  Rochelle looks around him fruitlessly.

Erik holds his hands to his mouth.  “Ohhh, shit!  She got jokes!”

She holds her hand out as he hands the bag to him.  “You got change for a $20?”

He shakes his head, locs hanging in his eyesight a moment.  “Nah, you can hold onto that.”

Rochelle smirked, impressed by his generosity.  “But….won’t you get in trouble for being short or something?”

Erik kisses his teeth, drawing her eyes to his emotive mouth as he talks.  “I’ll just add it as my comped meal for my shift, ain’t nothin.”

Rochelle nods, holding the bag at her side.  “So...I guess that means no tip either….”

Erik bites his lips looking down at the floor.  “Eh, this can be my goodwill for the day.  That’s tip enough.  Will that be all?”

She hoped HIS tip would be enough. Rochelle stammered looking behind her and back at Erik.  “Well, you don’t have to be hungry and broke on account of me.”

Erik’s neck jerks back, as he makes a face.  “Aye, now, I ain’t never broke, hear me!  But I could eat, you know.”

Rochelle nods.  “I got plenty.”

Erik’s eyes travel downward.  “You do...and you my last order for the day, so I just got off…”

Rochelle stepped back from the door, as everything seemed to fall into place, allowing him to come inside.

#fictober18 #black panther fanfic #erik killmonger fanfic #fanfic #shakafic

[whatsthecraicwithvideogames]

My Definitive Ranking Of All 21 Confidants in Persona 5 (yep it’s a list you just gotta deal)

Persona 5 has some of the best characters in any game I've ever played. Over the 100 hours spent in the game, a lot of these characters are significantly fleshed out and you feel a genuine bond with them. Some not so much. So, because the world needed it so much, here is my official 100% accurate ranking of all those characters. No debate needed. This is the only ranking you will ever need. Enjoy.

21 Yuuki Mishima

Mishima seems to think that just because he figured out that you were a Phantom Thief that he is entitled a spot in your friend group.No. GET YOUR OWN FRIENDS MISHIMA. There are plenty of characters less interesting than Mishima, but none that annoyed me more. It may be completely unjustified, but I just need him out of my life. More specifically, I need him out of my hotel room in Hawaii. Go home, Mishima. No one wants you here.

20 Toranosuke Yoshida

The main issue that afflicts the majority of the people at the bottom of the list is dullness and being underdeveloped. Yoshida happens to be the former. Maybe it's just because I'm young and ignorant, but when I'm trying to save the world from its inevitable ruin, I'm not really all that interested in a disgraced politician. Call me simple minded.

19 Chihaya Mifune

Now we come to the underdeveloped. Although it must be said that Chihaya could have had an amazing storyline that I just didn't see, as her character was so one note and uninteresting that I became equally uninterested in what was going on with her and I didn't pay a whole lot of attention. So I apologize if I've missed an amazing character, but she should have made a better impression sooner.

18 Shinya Oda

I have little feelings towards Shinya. He's a little higher on the list due to his storyline being a bit sympathetic but there isn't really much to his character other than the fact that he's a kid who's good at a video game. I was invested in making sure that he got fed, but that's about as far as it goes.

17 Munehisa Iwai

I am currently holding a bit of a grudge against Iwai at the minute, as he was the only confidant I didn't manage to max out on my new game plus run, basically meaning I wasted about an extra 70 hours BUT HEY. That's not his fault. He also suffers from side character dullness, but he gets bumped up the list a bit because we had a lot of weird dates together that I'll never forget. What other game allows you to go to the planetarium and an all you can eat buffet with a yakuza member? In Persona 5, even the boring characters have something to offer. Some more than others.

16 Igor

There isn't really much to say about Igor to be honest. Of all the people on this list, he’s the one you have the least opportunity to get to know, but there's just something about him. Maybe it's his nose? Or perhaps the eyebrows? Either way, I like his style and he managed to crawl up a few spaces.

15 Haru Okumura

We arrive at another character who took a little while to grow on me. Originally I thought she was just as boring as Makoto, but at least Haru has some semblance of a personality. She's awfully sweet and her storyline is very sympathetic. She struggles under the weight of her responsibility to run a company, and is conflicted by her arranged marriage to a man she has no interest in. I felt genuinely invested in making sure she was okay and safe, even if her metaverse outfit is a bit dumb. Nobody's perfect.

14 Ichiko Ohya

If you're not familiar with Ohya, just imagine a really incompetent Jessica Jones and you're pretty much there. Meaning, she's drunk all the time. She drinks away the guilt she harbours from losing her best friend on the job, but she still remains a fierce journalist who doesn't crack under pressure and is determined to find out the truth. She just happens to smell like gin while she's doing it.

13 Sae Niijima

Sae is cool in the most normal way that you'll find in Persona 5. She's a prosecutor, working against against all odds to become the top in her field. She may have been working slightly against us in the beginning, but she was a formidable foe; working with an open mind and a level head, she eventually began to believe our stories about our time with the Phantom Thieves. Sae is rad without needing a cool outfit (@Makoto) and we should all be more like her.

12 Makoto Niijima

I'm not even going to apologise. Makoto just barely made it above her much more impressive sister, and the only reason she did is because her whole deal in the metaverse is pretty badass. However, and let me say this loud for you Makoto, just because your persona is a motorcycle, DOES. NOT. MAKE. YOU. THE BOSS. Once she joins your team, every plan comes from her, even though I am the leader of the Phantom Thieves. I have tried really quite hard to understand why everybody loves Makoto so much. I even romanced her on my second playthrough so I could get a different perspective on her. It helped nothing. I really tried to give her the benefit of the doubt, but anywhere outside of the metaverse, she is dull and boring. Number 1 Waifu she is not, I'm afraid.

11 Hifumi Togo

Before Futaba came along, I was all set to romance Hifumi. To be fair I felt she was the best of a bad bunch, but let that not detract from her good qualities. She's a shogi master (or at least she thinks she is), and yet she still struggles with something that a lot of us can identify with: she is desperately trying to live up to her mother's unachievable high expectations. All Hifumi wants is to play shogi, and when she plays shogi, she plays shogi. She's a bit crazy but we love her anyway, and there's no one else I’d rather play shogi in a church with. Now just to figure out what shogi actually is…

10 Morgana

What would a JRPG be without a resident weird humanoid animal thing? Mediocre, that's what. Morgana is an integral part to the whole structure of the game, in more ways than one. Without him, our character would have no idea about how anything works in the Metaverse. Yes, he can be literally the most irritating presence on the planet whenever I'm trying to go out and Morgana is telling me to go to bed (YOU’RE NOT THE BOSS OF ME MORGANA), but deep down I know he's doing it out of love. Sometimes I wish Morgana loved me a little less but hey, you can't pick your family.

9 Goro Akechi

Okay, look. I know what you're thinking. Akechi is a little bit problematic. I know this. But he's just so adorable before all that! That's pretty much that only reason I have for having him so far up the list. His little face in his character profile is just so cute that you can't help but love him. Also the way he yells ‘PERSONAAAAAAGHHHH’ is badass and I can't hear it enough times. I forgive the Ace Detective of all crimes he has committed.

8 Futaba Sakura

A couple of months ago, Futaba would most likely have topped my list. She was the first girl I romanced in Persona 5. I had spent the whole game waiting for someone to come along and sweep me off my (digital) feet. It was beginning to look like I was going to have to settle with Hifumi- and then Futaba came along. She was a hacker and a gamer: my perfect waifu. Her romancing scenes are very sweet and I remained enamoured with her throughout my whole playthrough. After playing new game plus that changed. I went in with the intention of romancing someone different, and boy is Futaba different without those rose tinted glasses on. Her inability to do anything on her own is, while understandable, it's frustrating at best. She's still pretty high on the list though, as I'll never forget our time together, and also she's saved me countless times during combat that she will forever be elevated to God tier in the Metaverse. I owe her a debt I can never repay.

7 Tae Takemi

I won't lie to you. A lot of Takemi’s charm and appeal lies in her character design. The idea of a cool, punk rock doctor who supplies us with our own extreme healing products is great. Even better is that she's got the attitude to match. Confident in her skills but still dating enough to go rogue and have you be her guinea pig for new medicines she's developing, Takemi is a doctor you would want as a friend, but DEFINITELY not treating you. Unless you enjoy drinking mysterious liquids and passing out for hours on end. In which case be my guest.

6 Sadayo Kawakami

Ah, Kawakami. She sure does have it rough. Teacher by day, maid by night, she's a very sympathetic character, although she may not start out that way. At first glance she just seems like your typical extremely incompetent teacher- which she is. However the deeper into her storyline you go, the more you start to understand why she is the way she is. She ends up being quite a sweet person, not to mention her skills enable you to have more of the most important resource in Persona 5: time. Coincidentally, that's the one thing it takes for her to grow on you. Just give her a couple of days, and you'll learn to love her for who she is. A hot mess.

5 Sojiro Sakura

I don't think it’s an overstatement to say that the entire plot of the game would not have happened if not for Sojiro. For some unexplained reason, he agrees take in our main character who has just been put on parole, and it's that act that eventually brings our whole crew together. Even when he discovers that he has a phantom thief right under his roof, he sticks by you and even lets you hold meetings right there in his café. He goes from standoffish jerk to ‘dad we never had’ in a beautiful transformation that is one of the best progressions of a relationship in the game. If it wasn’t for his curious combination of coffee and curry for breakfast every morning, there's no way we could have completed our rehabilitation and saved the world from ruin. Sojiro literally saved the entire world (don't question it he totally did).

4 Ann Takamaki

Of all the characters on this list, Ann is the one that surprised me the most. She's pretty, blonde and a model. In video games, TV, movies; these things tend to be a placeholder for a personality, so really I expected nothing more from Ann: and boy did she prove me wrong. She is kind, loyal and is extremely strong willed. She suffered through sexual harassment at the hands of her teacher, her best friend's attempted suicide, and the her career as a model being sabotaged by a spiteful competitor. Through it all, however, she remains a positive force on the team and one of your characters closest friends from beginning to end. We all deserve someone like Ann in our lives.

3 Yusuke Kitagawa

Yusuke is another character that I love purely because every conversation with him is golden, particularly when leveling up your relationship with him. Throughout his journey to find himself as an artist, I joined him at an art exhibit, a romantic boat ride on a lake, and I posed as our Lord and Savior himself Jesus Christ on the crucifix as a way to inspire the creativity within Yusuke. Some may say that Yusuke’s best quality is his voice, but those people simply can't appreciate what he brings to the table and I simply have no time for them. He is a rare flower and I will defend him at every given opportunity.

2 Caroline and Justine (The Wardens)

Before starting my new game plus playthrough, these girls wouldn't have even been on this list, because I had no idea that they were even confidants until my second time around. The way you level up your confidant ranking with them is by fusing personas with a certain ability, per their request. The only thing I dislike about that is that you don't get to spend as much time with them as I'd like. They are both as entertaining as they are enigmatic, and though it may seem strange to have them so high up, everytime I brought them a new persona, they stole a little bit more of my heart. By force. They demanded I give it to them. But it still counts all the same.

1 Ryuji Sakamoto

I don't care what anyone says, this game would not be half as interesting or funny without Ryuji in it. There are a lot of people who would probably put Ryuji last on this list, due to his loud nature and penchant for yelling in public about how you and all your friends are the Phantom Thieves. But that's all part of his charm! Ryuji owes a lot of his likeability to his voice actor, Max Mittelman, as he somehow manages to be comically over the top while still remaining believable for his character. There are multiple times during the game where you'll have to pick who to hang out with at certain story moments, with the intention really being that you hang out with the girl you're romancing, but every single time I chose Ryuji. Every situation with him is comedy gold. Ryuji will forever be my number 1, and nobody will ever change my mind on that.

#persona 5 #list #video games #persona #ryuji sakamoto

[ladylilithprime]

Kiss prompt 73 Sastiel?

73. Height Difference Kisses Where One Person Has To Bend Down And The Other Is On Their Tippy Toes 

Read Parts 1-6 Here

NO ONE OBJECTED when Sam and Castiel politely but firmly bowed out of any further rounds of Spin the Bottle. Dean pouted briefly that it was Sam’s turn to spin, but quickly changed the subject when Sam shot him a speaking look that Castiel wasn’t quite sure how to interpret. Meg, at least, waved them off with a rueful little smile that belied her put-upon sigh, so Castiel figured she wasn’t too irritated with them for not sticking with the “plan”.

As tempting as it was to stick close to Sam’s side and anchor himself in the younger Winchester’s familiar presence, Castiel was starting to get more than a little overwhelmed. Everything he had felt for Sam over the last two years felt magnified, unbound, churning beneath the surface of his skin like water boiling over. It was as if the simple knowledge that his feelings were returned, that Sam loved him back, had opened the floodgates to all those messy, physical sensations he’d heard described but never actually felt for himself until Meg’s stupid dare had set things into unrelenting motion. It felt like drowning. It felt like flying.

It was that feeling that had Castiel tilt his head up towards Sam and say, as casually as he could manage, “I’m going to go get another drink. Would you like anything?”

And Sam, bless his pure soul and kind heart, looked into his eyes and practically seemed to read his mind. “I might get some water a little later,” he said, giving Castiel’s hand a gentle squeeze before releasing him. “Last thing I should probably be doing right now is putting any more inhibition-lowering chemicals in my system.”

It was a fair point, and one Castiel himself might have considered under different circumstances. Right now, though, he felt off-kilter enough that the prospect of the depressant chemicals of alcohol dampening his anxiety enough to get him through the rest of this Hell of a party at the side of his own personal Heaven was too tempting to pass up. With a murmured “be right back”, he reluctantly broke away from Sam and headed into the kitchen.

There were only a few people loitering in the spacious kitchen, thankfully, most of his classmates having been pulled towards the living room to either join or spectate the newest round of Spin the Bottle. Castiel moved surely with purpose towards the icebox where he knew Meg’s brother Tom kept a few cans of imported Czech dark ale. The stuff was sweeter than Castiel usually liked, but it was also thirteen percent alcohol by volume. He dug one out from the back, popped the tab, and downed half the can in four long gulps before he had to come up for air with a huff that was more irritation than satisfaction.

“That shit any better than this shit?” a voice asked from over by the counter where Castiel knew whatever was left of the PBR cases was standing.

“Not really,” Castiel said rather flatly and lifted the can again, hoping to discourage conversation. The alcohol burned a little, but not much, and the can was empty in three more swallows. It was tempting to grab one of Ezra Masters’s bottles of Arrogant Bastard next, but he still had enough sense to know the difference between an easily disguised can and a large, obvious brown bottle twice the size of the bottles of Corona a couple of the art department darlings had brought.

“Surprised to see you drinking so much, Einsam,” the voice continued, either missing or just blithely ignoring Castiel’s hint to leave him alone, even though the sound of footsteps told him that others in the room had gotten the hint. “But then, you’re sure surprising a lot of people tonight, you and the Winchester kid.”

That made Castiel shoot a narrow look in the direction of the voice. The speaker turned out to be Luke Gottesschwert, Michael’s rebellious younger brother, a Sophomore and technically not supposed to be at this party despite hitching a ride with his older brother. He was decked out in ripped jeans and a Led Zeppelin shirt that looked too sharp to be more than a few weeks off the racks and a beaten up leather jacket that looked a lot like Dean’s but Castiel would bet his GPA had less personal history. When he saw he had Castiel’s attention, Luke grinned. “How drunk was he before you got to take him upstairs?”

“Excuse me?” Castiel said, slowly and deliberately. He couldn’t have heard that right, there was no way this kid was implying what it sounded like.

“Gotta say,” Luke went on, casting a leer in the direction of the living room, “if I’d known all it took to get that tight ass to drop trou was a beer or three and just grabbing him and planting one on him, he wouldn’t have had to settle for just fifteen minutes!”

Crunch!

Luke stilled, turning to stare at Castiel, who continued to systematically crush the beer can he was holding with one hand as he slowly drew himself up to his full six feet of height and turned to face the other boy. With the unerring accuracy born of practice and familiarity, Castiel snapped his hand across his body, sending the can - now crushed down to the size and shape of a hockey puck - directly at the right spot on the kitchen wall to ricochet off into the recycling bin, all without moving his piercing gaze from the wanna be punk in front of him.

“You are not touching Sam Winchester,” Castiel growled, staring the taller boy down.

“Oh yeah?” Luke sneered, looking Castiel up and down with disdain. “What’s gonna stop me? A little nerd like you?”

“Maybe,” Castiel said, more calmly than the thundering in his ears would suggest, not giving an inch. “Or maybe it’ll be his brother. Or even your brother. Or maybe,” he added, ice sliding into his voice, “you should remember that Sam Winchester took down Gordon Walker, and no one touches him without his consent. Not you. Not me. No one.”

Whatever was in his eyes was enough to make Luke step back, his own eyes widening a little. He recovered quickly, drawing himself up and leaning forward, attempting to loom over Castiel as he snarled, “Big talk from someone everyone here saw manhandling the kid earlier before you disappeared upstairs–”

“Oh, please!” a familiar and sarcastic voice broke in from beside them. Luke and Castiel turned their heads to look at Gabriel Gullvaengur, editor of Shurley High’s school newspaper, holding an unopened can of Mountain Dew. Seeing that he had their attention, Gabriel went on, “Have you seen Sam?” He gave an impressed whistle, using the hand not holding the can to sketch out Sam’s height (well above Gabriel’s own) and then his broad shoulders that weren’t quite on the same level as Michael’s but weren’t too far off considering Sam was three years younger than all his classmates. “No one can manhandle him unless the man wants to be handled, you get me? And from the angle I had, it looked like he was manhandling Cassie here right back!” he finished with a waggle of his eyebrows.

“Yes, thank you, Gabriel,” Castiel groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. Because that was exactly the sort of thing he wanted Luke Gottesschwert to know while he was telling him off for wanting to molest his… Sam.

Gabriel looked from one to the other, then shook his head and rolled his eyes. “Here, let’s settle this,” he said, turning towards the living room and cupped a hand around his mouth. “Hey, Winchester the Younger!”

There was a moment of silence, then Sam poked his head into the kitchen. His eyes swept over Luke’s aggressive posture and Castiel’s ramrod straight back and flushed cheeks, then looked at Gabriel and raised an eyebrow. “You bellowed, shortstack?”

“Settle something for us,” Gabriel requested, waving him into the kitchen. Bemused, Sam came further in, detouring to the counter to grab a bottle of water and circling around the kitchen island to stand at Castiel’s side, drawing a scowl from Luke and a slight smirk from Gabriel. “Okay! So, answer this for us. If Cassie here wanted to take you upstairs for some hot and heavy action, would he get anywhere without your consent?”

Sam blinked, both eyebrows climbing into his hairline. “Not sure what you want me to say here since Cas already has my consent to do whatever he wants with me.”

“He does?” Gabriel asked interestedly even as Castiel blurted out a startled, “I do?”

“Of course, Cas,” Sam said matter of factly, turning to smile softly at Castiel in that way he had which caused his dimples to show most strongly. Castiel flushed and glanced down at the floor with a shy, pleased smile as Sam explained, most likely for Luke and Gabriel’s benefit, “I trust you not to do anything I wouldn’t be enthusiastic about and to stop if I ask you to, just like I would for you.”

“Okaaay… Then say Luke here,” Gabriel gestured to Luke, who was still scowling, “made the same proposition, you would say…?”

“Absolutely not,” Sam said firmly, eyes narrowing in suspicion at Luke, who now looked like he might have been thinking of edging towards the door. Gabriel hummed consideringly.

“And if he didn’t respect that?” Gabriel asked, sounding like he could guess what the answer was going to be.

“I’d break his face,” Sam obliged him in a calmly conversational tone. Castiel snuck a glance back up as Sam twisted the cap off his bottle of water, arm muscles flexing rather pointedly. “And once Dean heard about it he’d break everything else.”

“There you go!” Gabriel said cheerfully, popping open his soda can and taking a big gulp of the sugary caffeine-laden liquid. Luke scowled, flushed and shifty and clearly realizing he was probably more out of his depth than he’d thought, but too prideful to back down just yet.

“And your nerd boyfriend?” he sneered, more bluster and bark than substance, but still reaching. Castiel felt his spine stiffening as Luke went on, goading, “He seemed to think he can do something.”

“I have access to liquid nitrogen,” Castiel said in a deceptively mild tone, turning to stare flatly at Luke as his voice dropped several degrees in timbre and temperature. “And a healthy respect for its destructive properties when applied to… soft tissue.” The pointed glance downwards was probably not necessary, but the way Luke went pale and sickly was incredibly satisfying, as was the way he all but scurried out of the kitchen.

“And on that horrifying thought,” Gabriel drawled, giving Castiel a look of impressed respect, “I’m gonna go see if Kali wants to go participate in one of those ill-advised make-outs I heard Dean-o talking about.” He saluted them both with his Mountain Dew and sauntered away.

“Just so you know,” Sam said in a low voice as Castiel turned to look up at him, catching the full force of Sam’s radiant smile. “You are one scary badass when you want to be, and I’m both terrified and turned on right now. I’m also kind of interested in seeing how many people Dean ends up kissing before someone finally calls game over. You in?”

“I have imbibed sufficient quantities of inhibition-lowering chemicals,” Castiel said, stretching up on his tiptoes to press a quick kiss to the corner of that smile, imagining that this must be what kissing actual sunshine felt like. “Do with me what you will.”

#kiss prompt drabbles #sastiel #high school party au #alcohol #discussion of theoretical dubcon sex #sam winchester #castiel #lucifer #gabriel #do not piss off the nerds they will fuck you up with science #anonymous

[yourslovinglecter]

The Duchess - Part 4

Summary: She hated him, for everything he had done to them, the damage he had caused, the suffering and pain he had left behind. She hated him… Didn’t she? Emilia comes face to face with the leader of the Saviours and is confronted with his true nature, which in turn has her questioning her own.

Warning/s: Eventual smut, slow burner, profanity/swearing, graphic descriptions of violence.

Pairing: Negan/OC

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

No gifs are made by me unless otherwise stated. All credit goes to the original creators.

Part 4

The Sanctuary/The Saviours

He rolled his shoulders and grinned as a tingle shot up his spine, whilst leaning forward in the passenger seat he re-angled the rear view mirror to watch her. Dwight shot him a look from the drivers seat, but didn’t dare question him and refocused his eyes on the road.

He rubbed a gloved thumb over Lucille’s handle as he saw Emilia watch the trucks go before she turned to Rick, placing one of her small hands upon his back. The smile fell from Negan’s face and his jaw jumped as he flexed it in anger, he watched from the growing distance as Rick turned to her and embraced her, his head resting atop her chestnut hair.

He was unaware he had growled in irritation until Dwight looked at him again and uttered a quiet “Boss?” In question.

He returned the rear view mirror to its original position and reclined in his seat, his eyes unfocussed on the road ahead. He could feel Dwight’s curiosity coming from him in waves and he sighed and rotated his head to face the man, scarred side on, he admired his handiwork for a moment before speaking.

“You gotta question you wanna ask me Dwight?” He felt his fury bubbling deep within his chest. Any rise he had gotten from Rick, any victory his submission had given him, had all been snatched away as he’d watched their embrace.

Dwight must have heard that in his tone for he gulped once and gripped hard onto the steering wheel. “I was just wonderin’ why you didn’t bring her with you.”

Negan’s jaw flexed again and as her face flashed in his minds eye he swiped his lower lip with his tongue. “The Duchess?”

Dwight’s brow furrowed as he glanced sideways at him. “Err, the one who beat on Arat. I don’t know her name. The English bitch.”

Negan’s grip on Lucille suddenly tightened and his gaze darkened further. He looked up in the rearview to see they were a considerable distance away from Alexandria and made his decision.

“Stop the fucking van.” His voice was quiet. Deadly. Lucille was begging for a taste of flesh, even if it was the twisted, charred kind. When Dwight didn’t immediately obey he yelled again in his mangled ear, leaning forward. “STOP THE FUCKING VAN.”

The brakes emitted a high pitched whine and the tyres squealed as Dwight jumped and slammed the breaks on fast. The vehicles behind followed suit, but no one was stupid enough to come up and ask why.

He could see Dwight’s hands shaking even as they gripped the steering wheel so hard his knuckles were white.

“What. Did. You. Call. Her?” He leaned forward emphasising every word, his elbow was now propped upon Dwight’s shoulder as he ground the words out into his mutilated ear.

“I-I’m sorry Boss. I-” Suddenly Negan moved, his much larger frame pushing against Dwight, his elbow was lodged under his chin, forcing him back with a loud bang into the window. The force of the impact cracked the glass and Dwight wheezed as his air supply was cut off by Negan’s large forearm.

“Be careful Dwighty boy.” His voice was deep and rough with fury and Dwight was too afraid to meet his eyes. Too afraid he’d see the same look he’d seen there when the hot iron had approached his skin.

Then as quickly as he had moved he was back in place again, nonchalantly tapping his fingers on Lucille’s handle as he whistled a tune and looked out the window as if nothing had happened. Dwight rubbed at his neck as he sat up, his chest heaving with terrified gasps, and released the hand break.

Once they were moving again Negan spoke, his tone devoid of the fury Dwight had just been witness to.

“Her name is Emilia.” His voice caressed the name as if enjoying the taste of it in his mouth. “And I didn’ bring her back yet because when I do, it will be because she chose it.”

Dwight frowned again, worried about inciting Negan’s wrath again but also not quite understanding what he meant. “You think she’ll come voluntarily?”

Negan chuckled, his dark, rich tone filling the air around them. “Oh I know she will. I’ll just need to give her a little nudge in the right direction.”

Dwight kept his eyes on the road, probably wondering what plan Negan was concocting, but he most certainly wasn’t brave enough to ask.

Once they reached The Sanctuary Negan was quick out of the vehicle, swinging Lucille beside him as he barked orders to the men unloading their loot. As he made his way past the walkers out front, deliberately not breathing through his nose so he didn’t catch their rotten stench, everyone who saw him dropped to their knees. He couldn’t remember when that had begun, but he liked it, it gave him power over them and showed newcomers what behaviour was expected of them.

The sudden kneeling continued as he made his way through the halls, Lucille firmly gripped in his hand, he ignored anyone he may come across as he made his way to his office. Once he closed the door behind him he laid Lucille on the couch and poured himself a drink from the crystal decanter which was always kept filled to the top on his desk. He raised the whiskey to his mouth and took a deep drink, once he had swallowed he released the breath he felt as though he had been holding since he’d first seen her.

He didn’t miss a thing and certainly hadn’t missed her as she’d bashed her way past fat Joey on her way out of Rick’s house. Hm, what had she been doing in there anyway? She’d told him they weren’t a thing but they seemed awfully fucking close to him.

She had been a breath of fucking fresh air in that place and he’d be lying if he didn’t admit to wanting to fuck her as soon as he’d seen her. But then she’d approached them and looked at him with such disgust that is interested was piqued beyond that. Hell as soon as she’d fuckin’ talked he knew he was screwed. That voice. That accent.

She had held herself like fucking royalty and his brain had immediately coined her ‘The Duchess’. She was too badass for ‘Princess’ and deserved far more than his regular phrase of ‘doll’.

He chuckled to himself quietly as he took another drink, letting the whisky burn his through as he recalled her first words to him.

‘Go fuck yourself.’

She really was something and he wanted her bad. He’d very nearly done as Dwight suggested, swooped her up and stolen her for himself, but he knew he had to be patient. She may not realise it but his charm had worked, he knew he was a charismatic motherfucker naturally, but when he put real effort into it… Hell even the larger chick had been creaming her pants for him.

Though that was probably due to her not seeing a lot of action. He’d bet The Duchess saw plenty.

His dark brows furrowed as he tried to get that picture out of his brain, he couldn’t think of her in that type of situation with any man. Which drove home to him just how screwed he was. He’d been in Alexandria, in her company for a couple hours and here he was jealous over her imaginary conquests.

He drained his glass and slammed it on the table. And to think he had to wait a whole week before he could see her again. He thought of her gleaming chestnut hair and her stormy blue eyes, he was sure a bruise would be coming up on that smooth cheek of hers, her heart shaped face would be marred by purple, green and blue and her perfect little lower lip would swell.

He smirked slowly to himself as he turned and look at Lucille in contemplation. He picked her up and made his way out of the door, he had things to do, besides perhaps they could pay a visit to Alexandria a little earlier than planned to keep Rick on his toes. Of course that would bring the added benefit of seeing her a little sooner.

And in the meantime he had the resource right in these very walls to try and find out more about his Duchess.  

It turned out that said resource was galvanised from seeing his boyfriend Rick and had been pounding away at his cell door for hours. He’d had to have a conversation with Dwight about that. Even tried to tempt him with Sherry… He hadn’t caved, but also hadn’t accepted the invitation the fuck anyone else willing. Then showing what a good boy he was, ran off to do grunt work and left fat Joey in charge of Daryl, after Dwight had left Negan went to have a conversation with his favourite prisoners current babysitter.

“Boss!” Joey dropped to his knees quickly, his considerable weight making a loud thud and one of Negan’s eyes squinted in an almost wince as he thought about the pain that would have caused his knee.

“Get up fat Joseph, I want to test whether our guest is gettin’ the way things fuckin’ work around here.” He swung Lucille so she balanced on his shoulder. Joey glanced between her and Negan in fear, sweat breaking out on his upper lip.

He watched from afar as Joseph left the door unlocked and walked around the corner, pursed his lips and sighed in disappointment as Daryl made a break for it. He followed from a distance, bemused at his escape attempt until he glanced around a corner and saw Sherry whispering into his ear. All amusement vanished as rage descended, he watched intrigued as she told him to go back, told him it could get worse.

Damn fucking right it could, and would for her if she wasn’t honest with him.

He remained where he was as Daryl fled round the corner, heard her heels click on the floor as she approached, she came round the corner and slammed straight into his chest. He didn’t put his hands out to steady her as she stumbled but instead remained impassive as he looked at her.

“Why hello, my darlin’ wife.” Irony laced the word and her eyes shot up to his. She wasn’t dumb by any means but it took a little longer than he would have expected for her to get it. When understanding finally lit her eyes he only quirked a questioning eyebrow at her and rocked on his heels, Lucille still balanced on his shoulder and his other hand in his pocket.

“Daryl is out.” She said reluctantly. “He went that way.” She pointed behind her and Negan only nodded once as he looked over her appearance.

“You look like a schoolgirl in that sundress, go fuckin’ change it.” He barked and stormed past her as she flinched backward. He knew why he was being an asshole to her. Her eyes held only fear and resignation, not the fire and defiance he had seen only hours earlier in those stormy blue eyes which he was sure would stay with him. That sundress would have been perfectly acceptable to him in the hours before he’d seen Emilia in her white tank top and those tight camo pants which were perfectly moulded to her ass and thighs, leading down to her black leather boots.

He stood for a moment and closed his eyes at the memory, tracing every curve in his minds eye. Boy was he glad she hadn’t seen fit to zip up her jacket.

He jolted back to himself as he heard a door slam and continued on his way outside. He was really fucking disappointed in Daryl, but maybe he still had a chance to redeem himself.

Negan whistled as he walked slowly up to the circle of his man surrounding Daryl. He’d made it as far as the bikes, but the keys weren’t kept in them so had never stood a chance of getting away on one.

He meandered his way into the centre of the circle, like he had all the time in the world. He held Daryl in his gaze and smirked as he swung Lucille to his side and asked “Who are you?”

Fat Joey answered immediately “Negan.”

“Who aaare you?” He pointed her over his shoulder at whoever stood behind him, his eyes never wavering from Daryl as the answer came from behind. “Negan.”

“Who are ya?” He held both hands out to his sides and bounced once in apparent glee.

A chorus of “Negan” echoed around them and a self satisfied smirk bloomed on his face.

“You see that? I am everywhere and this was your shot to prove to me that that fundamental fact was sinking in, and you failed. Which sucks as your life was about to get so much cooler!” He remained facing Daryl but spoke to Fat Joey when he asked “Isn't that right?”

“Damn right.” Fat Joey repeated, a conceited, sly smirk turning the corners of his mouth up.

“Now Dwight gave you some options.” Negan said feeling both impressed and irritated by Daryl’s composure. “I don’t think you get it yet so I'm gonna break it down for you. One, you wind up on the spike and you work for me as a dead man. Two you get outta your cell and you work for points but you’re gonna wish you were dead, or three… You work for me, you get yourself a brand new pair of shoes and you live like a king! Choice should be pretty obvious, you should know, there is no door number four. This is it. This is the only way.”

Nothing.

Negan sucked his teeth thoughtfully. “Fair enough if you haven’t quite made your mind up yet, it’s a big decision, I understand. But i’m feeling generous so I’m willing to give you a little more time to think… Perhaps in a better room with food beside dog meat sandwiches? If you can give me some information.”

The men around Daryl briefly glanced at their leader, they hadn’t heard this part before. This little test was usually part and parcel of breaking someone, at this point most people agreed to join or went back into their cells listening to ‘Easy Street’ on repeat until they cracked. No one else had been offered more comfortable lodgings whilst they made up their mind in exchange for information. Whatever it was, the boss must want it bad.

“Yeah?” Daryl asked, lifting his chin defiantly as he glared at Negan through his swollen eyes and unwashed hair. “What you wanna know?”

Negan span on his heel and chuckled, swinging Lucille around with him. “Emilia.” Negan watched Daryl carefully and he saw the younger mans reaction, saw his eyes narrow and his jaw clench. “I wanna know everythaang there is to know about her. You willin’ to trade?”

It seemed even the mention of her name had injected more courage into Daryl and Negan felt his blood began to boil again, maybe he had her lover right here… He could open up the position in one fell swoop if that was the case. Everyone could see Daryl wasn’t going to talk, his extended silence only confirmed this.

“Screw it.” Negan spat before taking Lucille in both hands and swinging hard and suddenly toward Daryl’s face. He didn’t even blink.

“Wow! You don’t scare easy! I love that. But Lucille…” He raised the barbed wire baseball bat under Daryls nose. “Well it kinda pisses her off, she finds it to be…” He waved her around as if he was searching for the right word. “disrespectful. Lucky for you she’s not feeling too thirsty today…”

“But I am.” Negan leaned close, whispering menacingly into Daryl’s ear, his face was stone cold fury and a weaker man may have crumbled. “So i’m gonna go get me a drink!”

He laughed as he turned away and made his way back inside the factory, whistling as he heard fists connecting with flesh as his boys took Daryl down. He was irritated that he hadn’t managed to get any further information on The Duchess, but he wasn’t surprised that she inspired such loyalty.

Hell he didn’t even know why he was suddenly so interested in her, maybe it was the thrill of the chase, or how she looked at him like she fucking despised him. But interested he was.

Part 5

Taglist: @negan--is--god  @negans-network @aeiflegonphoenix

If you would like to be tagged just let me know. 

#Jeffrey Dean Morgan #negan fanfiction #negans-network #negans thirst squad #negan x oc #twd fanfiction

[taocastleprincess]

Inktober for Writers - Day 3 - Warmth / Eijiroctober - Day 3 - Hair

I’ve decided to do inktober for writers!! But also, someone made a prompt list for my firstborn in honor of his birthday month and I couldn’t NOT do that! So, we out here mergin’ prompts! ‘Cause it’s more fun that way! So pls enjoy 31 days of KIRISHIMA EIJIROU from your fave bakusquad stan and writer. (i MIGHT go back and do the days I missed, but that’s a BIG maybe)

Drabble under the cut!

“And you can’t ask Duracell why?”

Kirishima stands at the door of Bakugou’s room with his head wrapped and red hair dye in-hand. The blond looks at him with aggressive disinterest, if there ever were a thing.

“He’s studying with Yaomomo right now. We have a test next Monday; I’d feel bad interrupting.”

“You don’t feel bad interruptin’ me.”

The redhead smiles. Bakugou was such an easy guy to work with. There’s really nothing to it after awhile. You just gotta know what works and what doesn’t. And you wanna know what always works?

“Yeah, I know! ‘Cause we both know you’re gonna blow that test outta the water! It’s hella manly how you don’t even have to really study to get a good grade! Even Todoroki has to study even a little. You can spare an hour or two though, ‘cause you don’t even have to.”

Ego stroking. Flattery. A little bullshit.

Bakugou wears a look of self-admiration. Kirishima smiles to himself. Hook, line, and sinker. “Fine, Shitty Hair. But I ain’t a hairdresser, so don’t expect any fancy shit.”

It always works. Always.

Bakugou walks into his room and leaves his door open, presumably, for Kirishima to follow him. The redhead closes the door behind him and cheerfully walks over to the foot of Bakugou’s bed and sits ‘crisscross-applesauce’ style on the floor. The blond is fishing something out of his drawers with his back facing him.

Kirishima hums quietly while unwrapping the towel that adorns his head and caping it over his shoulders in preparation. Opening the box in his hand, he expertly mixes the red dye and puts it to side and waits.

Soon, Bakugou turns to face him with gloves and a bottle of vaseline in either hand.

“Why the hell would you let your roots grow out that long?” The blond’s face is scrunched up in funny show of emotion. If Kirishima had to guess, he’d say it was one part wonder and two parts disgust.

But Bakugou’s face is usually three parts disgust, so he doesn’t get too offended.

“Don’t look at me like that! It happened overnight!”

“‘Overnight,’ my ass. This is weeks of laziness. How’d you even hide this much growth?”

Kirishima wriggles around self-consciously. He whispers something indecipherable.

“Speak up, Shitty Hair.”

There is a long, uncomfortable pause. “...Jello.”

Bakugou’s face goes blank. Very blank. Kirishima’s stomach wells up with fear thinking that he might have broken his best friend but there is another part of him, a very small part, that thinks this is amazingly hilarious and is sad that Kaminari has missed such a grand affair.

“That is... fuckin’ nasty. I— You— That’s... nasty, Hair-for-Brains. Disgusting.” Bakugou walks over to his bed with the same blank expression on his face and takes a seat. He scoots over to the where Kirishima is sitting on the floor and arranges himself in a way that has Kirishima in between his legs. He hears the ‘POP’ of a container being opened and is confused.

“Whatcha doin’, Blasty? The dye’s right here.”

“I know, dumbass. You gotta coat your hairline in vaseline first.” Kirishima’s mouth opens and forms a dramatic ‘O’ shape. He’s just about to ask why he’s supposed to do such a thing when Bakugou beats him to it. “It’s so the dye washes off easily if it gets on your skin.” There is what sounds like a loud click above his head and he assumes Bakugou is clucking his tongue. “When you or Duracell or Raccoon Eyes dye your hair you end up lookin’ like your forehead’s been cracked open.” Kirishima thinks he’s heard the word ‘dumbass’ being quietly huffed as the irritated blonde lines his hairline in vaseline, but he’s not sure. (He is, but giving the benefit of a doubt to others is pretty manly.)

“Nice! I just started doing this a few months before school started so I’m still learning. Thanks for the pointers, it was getting really frustrating scrubbing my head all crazy every time I have to do my hair...” Kirishima rubs his forehead tenderly, remembering less than pleasant memories of pointlessly scrubbing his face until it was pink and raw trying to pry the faded red pigment off his face. After letting the thought fade after awhile and quietly humming as Bakugou lines his head, Kirishima stumbles upon a very important question. “Why do you know that? Like, I know you know a buncha stuff, but ‘you ain’t a hairdresser,’” the redhead finishes in an impressive imitation of the blond boy above him. He snickers into his elbow as Bakugou gently bops him upside the head.

“Shut up,” he responds. He points to the container of red dye sitting at Kirishima’s feet and waits for the other boy to pass it to him. He takes the dye and places it on the bed while putting on the gloves he fetched from his drawer. Once he finishes, he answers. “The ol’ hag’s been turnin’ gray since I was twelve. Refuses to go to a salon.”

“Why?”

“Because she’s a crazy ol’ hag and thinks it’s cute to force me to do it.” Kirishima can feel him start to expertly separate his hair into neatly parted sections. He tries to picture his spitfire, aggressive best friend doing this at home on his couch with his mom between his legs instead and starts smiling to himself. It was such a strong contrast to the Bakugou he usually presented with everyday and yet it still fits. The boy couldn’t be all blasts and booms and curse words all the time.

“That’s pretty manly, dude. Alotta guys wouldn’t even consider it. Good on you for helping your moms! It’s probably good bonding time too.”

“Mm. There’s food,” Bakugou replies. He tries to brush the subject off casually, but Kirishima can hear the fondness in his voice. He would enjoy it even if there wasn’t any food to have. Kirishima smiles again, content with the silence and the feeling of Bakugou’s hands going to work in his head.

The quiet is comfortable and friendly. Kirishima hums and Bakugou gently swings his feet to the beat. Nothing else is said until Bakugou is done applying the dye to Kirishima’s head and his timer has been set for fifteen minutes as a reminder for Kirishima to go wash his hair of the chemicals after the mixture has finished its job.

“Why do you dye your hair? You look just as shitty with black hair.”

Since Kirishima is fluent in Repressed Asshole, he knows that Bakugou actually means: You look just as good with black hair. So he laughs it off and feels his cheeks start to heat up oh so slightly.

“Thanks, Blasty! I think I’m pretty good lookin’ natural too!” Kirishima turns around and winks at Bakugou who promptly returns this gesture with a roll of his crimson eyes. Kirishima laughs some more and continues. “But...” His head fills with thoughts of middle school. “Red symbolizes good things. Better things. I made a promise to do better, to be better. And so I can’t be my old pathetic old self anymore!” Bakugou stares at Kirishima quietly, face indecipherable. The other boy blushes and wonders why he gave such an annoyingly honest answer. He could’ve just said he liked red, that he got bored of his natural hair color, that he just felt like it! But no, he had to go and mouth off while being weird and overdramatic and annoying.

Ugh. No one wants to hear the introduction of your dredged-up, tragic backstory, Eijirou. Damn.

Bakugou leans back on his elbows in his bed. He still has the gloves on that he used to handle the dye, but he’s careful not to touch the light colored sheets of his bed. His stare is still intense, but there’s a hint of something else. Kirishima can’t place it, sometimes Bakugou is just too good at hiding his emotions. “I’m pretty sure whoever you used to be wasn’t pathetic. Was probably more of a dumbass. Definitely still annoyin’ as fuck. But not pathetic.” Kirishima’s eyes widen slightly. Well, he was not expecting that. “Pathetic ain’t you. Nah.”

Bakugou shakes his head. He sits back up, peels off both his gloves and pitches them into the trash can across the room. He looks back towards Kirishima.

“You didn’t change. Just grew into the person you were always gonna be. The person that you’re still becomin’.” Kirishima thinks about this.

He hasn’t ever thought that he was being too hard on himself before but... could he have been? He means... yeah, his quirk isn’t as flashy or attention grabbing as it could be, but it’s his quirk and he makes it work. And he placed pretty damn good at the Sports Festival... and as a first-year? That’s pretty good for a guy with a ‘boring’ quirk.

In middle school he missed a few times to demonstrate his heroism but... was he not just a kid then? Yes, other kids in his place would’ve moved faster, reacted smarter, done better... But that’s not him. There’s no shame in getting better, in growing into being a hero. He’s always been a good person and that’s what matters. His intentions and ambitions have always been great and pure and manly. Nothing pathetic about it.

Kirishima smiles. A huge, sharp, toothy grin that nearly usurps his whole face and hurts his cheeks a little. “Yeah. Yeah, that sounds way better than what I said.”

The blond smirks. “Yeah, I know, dumbass. That’s how it always is. And stop fuckin’ cheesin’ like that. You’re still gonna be shit compared to me, so fix your face.”

Ignoring him, Kirishima continues grinning and lifts himself off the floor. He’s facing Bakugou now. “You’re a real pal, Katsuki.”

Bakugou’s face shades a pretty pink and Kirishima smiles wider. “Don’t call me that, dumbass. Do you want me to kill you?”

Kirishima laughs. “Nah. How much time do I have left?”

Prior embarrassment momentarily forgotten, Bakugou looks over at his phone. “Time for you to start heading to the shower. Got two minutes.”

“Aw. Okay. I guess I’ll see you later then.” Kirishima starts collecting the trash and unused items from the dye box and begins to leave.

Just as he is turning the doorknob, Bakugou calls out to him.

“If you’re not doin’ anything after you’ve finished, you can come back to study. ‘Cause I know your dumbass hasn’t started yet even though we’re coverin’ five chapters. Doesn’t make any sense that you and Duracell wait ‘til the last minute to break out the textbooks every time.” Kirishima quietly laughs at the blond’s obvious attempt at keeping his company.

“Okay! I’ll be back in a few.”

“You better. I’m doin’ your ass a favor, can’t have you flunkin’ out and wastin’ my good dye job.” Kirishima laughs out loud this time and can see the ghost of a smile wearing on Bakugou’s lips.

“No, we really can’t have that, Blasty,” he replies as he enters into the hallway just as Bakugou’s timer starts ringing.

#inktober for writers #eijiroctober #Kirishima Eijirou #kiribaku #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #bnha #mha #my writing #personalshy #someone said the point of inktober4writers isn't to put out amazing work; it's to better your writing skills and imagination #so i guess that encouraged me to actually post this bc this is NOT that great. at all. #like... yikes scoob

[victorreyna]

.001

Date: 02/11/17 Location: Dr. Cooney’s office; department therapist ⏤ Los Angeles, CA Time: 10:34

Vic lifted a hand to run through his hair. It was newly short, he wasn’t used to it yet. The longer locks had been sheared off a few days after getting back out from his latest op. They felt scummy and left for the underworld filled with pimps and drugged hookers. He missed his long hair though, or maybe he missed the comfort of throwing it up in a messy bun. It was just hair. Or that’s what this idiot doctor kept telling him. Hair didn’t represent the mission. His nightmares would fade. Life would just keep ticking by.

Unlike the fucking clock on the wall. Dr. Cooney never called a session early. If anything, the clock would hit the five or ten in the new hour before she relented. Maybe she wanted to fuck him. Most women did. Those extra minutes she tacked on were only for her benefit. Maybe she was another sick fuck who got off on seeing him squirm. Maybe she was trying to figure out a way to seem professional while she got down on her knees and sucked him off. Probably messily and over eager. He shifted on the uncomfortable couch. He did not need to get hard on his psych’s couch only halfway through the session. There was no way he could hide it and the questions that would follow that... he rolled his shoulders and stared up at the ceiling.

“Victor, are you listening?” 

The words snapped him out of his mini daydream and he nodded. “Yes, but what did you ask me?” 

Only four more weeks of these mandated sessions and maybe he could convince the doctor to bend over her desk for him. Four more fucking weeks. He sighed heavily, not bothering to hide it.

“Your nightmares. Have they gotten any better?”

He shrugged. “Sure. Less often. It’s more of a blur. I wake up with a feeling, but not screaming or worse.” 

It was the truth. They still came, often and hard if he didn’t self medicate. But Cooney didn’t need to know about his substance abuse problem. He was a fucking cop for god sake. Who cared what he did in his free time? He was fit. 

“Why don’t you lay back? We can try some mindful meditation.” 

Vic hated when she did this new age bullshit with him. It actually made him think and wasn’t the point of therapy to forget about the bad shit and move on. But he did as asked, shifted his oversized body until his legs were hanging off the opposite arm rest. He shoved a pillow behind his head and breathed in and out a few times to center himself. 

Dr. Cooney began to speak, but he ignored it and went under without her guidance. He knew what still fucked with him. The night the op ended. 

Another night, another exclusive party for men who owned women to loan them out. They had done this so many times before, him and Jamie -- his partner. After a year of spending every waking moment together, they knew each other; each movement and look. They didn’t need words. Sure, Vic still had an anger issue, but it worked for his cover. A pimp had to control his girl, take care of her no matter what. She was merchandise. Jamie understood that, played to it. It was a game to them. She would get him going just to see what he’d do. A lengthy foreplay that led to hours of fucking in their dingy apartment. But that night had been different. 

The party was different. He felt it as soon as they entered. Or maybe that was hindsight giving him the creeping feeling that he somehow knew in his gut how the night would end. He had his arm slung around her waist protectively keeping her close. It had become common practice. They were magnetic together. He hated when she slipped out of his embrace, her body heat no longer radiating against him. It meant work was in progress, not just the little world they had built for each other. 

Jamie had slipped from view giving him a small smile before he headed to the bar for a drink. One would only relieve his nerves. Thirty minutes. Forty. Two more drinks. Maybe three. He wasn’t paying attention to that. The irritation was creeping back up his neck. It never took this long with the girls missing. It made him feel on edge, panicky. He pushed through the crowd searching. He tried to push down the nerves creeping up. 

As he combed each room, the tightness in his belly only wound tighter. Something was wrong. He could practically smell it in the air. This was a bad place. A place where you didn’t bring girls if you cared about them. He should have picked up on it earlier and refused this particular party. Yes, each party was horrible. Men were horrible. But there was an evil underneath the perfectly polished surface. There were a few cracks waiting for someone to pick at them to unveil the ugliness underneath. 

Then he heard it, her voice: panicked and high pitched. It barely sounded like Jamie. She didn’t scare easily. She was head strong and brutal. He was a teddy bear compared to her. He pushed past a waiter knocking his tray of champagne to the ground. Ignoring the hurl of insults, he kept going until he found the source. The door was slightly ajar, a few girls milling around outside -- their eyes dull. He hit the door with his shoulder knocking it open hard. A man in his late forties had Jamie pinned to a bed, hand up her dress. Her eyes wild and pupils dilated. He’d seen her like this once before; their first party when she had been drugged to be more compliant. Maybe that was the practice here.

The man rutted against her, barely looking over his shoulder when Vic barged in. “Wait your turn, asshole. Her pussy’s tight and I get it first. Then maybe that mouth.” It was followed by a pathetic whimper and guttural laugh. It didn’t seem human. It was another crack in the facade. But it was what caused him to snap. 

Without another though, he grabbed the man by the hair and yanked him off Jamie. He only looked up at her briefly before he began pummeling the man’s face. Punch after punch. The skin on his knuckles busting open and his blood mixing with the man’s. Soon his face became unrecognizable. A mash of broken teeth and bright oxygenated blood. Girls were screaming, but so was Vic. He couldn’t stop. His arm on fire, each muscle begging him to slow down. The man was no longer moving, but Vic persisted. Eventually, slamming his foot down on the man’s head. 

And just as it had begun, it ended. He stopped. There was no movement. Blood splattered his face and his heart hammered against his ribs. He felt good. The ugliness had poked its head out and he had responded, a valiant knight to quell the evil. That part, the joy, he kept from Dr. Cooney. He deflated then, rushing to Jamie to make sure she was okay. His hands cupping her face and making her focus on him as he lifted her into his arms.

“Victor. Victor!” An incessant shaking on his shoulder. His eyes snapped open and he bolted upright. It was Dr. Cooney. He wasn’t under anymore. Jamie wasn’t in his arms and he wasn’t covered in blood. He was safe. Or at least in the fucking therapist’s office. He wanted a cigarette or even better, a line or two. 

“I’m fine, doc. Can we end early today?” He made sure to make eye contact. He had read one late night while googling that it was better to make eye contact than avoid it. Without waiting for a real answer, he stood up and grabbed his faded leather jacket. “Great session, doc, but I really gotta piss.” 

He was already pulling out his pack of cigarettes and lighter. He had enough of the bullshit for today. He didn’t need to think about it. Especially not how he didn’t regret it -- how much he had fucking enjoyed it. His dick already growing hard underneath his baggy jeans. It always happened when he thought about hitting the prick until he died. Pulling out his phone, he shot Jamie a text message.

[213] need you.  [213] i’ll fuck you on the hood of my car, i need you that bad.

The second text was better, less pathetic. Lighting the cigarette, he bounded to his car. Now that the bullshit was over, he could enjoy the rest of his day.

#timeline: 2017 #location: los angeles