#I'm a glutton for angst you should know this by now

[fantasticalleigh]

awake and unafraid | asleep or dead

just wanted to draw them dead together bc I'm a masochist but then I got too sad about it so I made one where they’re alive and together and happy 

also yes I used a twilight meadow scene screen cap for this pose 

Instagram | Ko-Fi

#reylo #reylo art #reylo illustration #fantasticalleighs art #ben solo #rey nobody #rey of jakku #rey skywalker #dyad #dyad in the force #the rise of skywalker #the lovers #the fact that it's taken me THIS long to reference MCR in any of my work is a fuckingmiracle ok #and it was not the plan from the beginning but my god! there it is #famous last words makes me cry bad but thinking about THEM AND the song makes me want to die #it goes so well in the worst (saddest) way #I'm a glutton for angst you should know this by now

[thecameronchronicles]

Hearts and Minds

TW: slight angst. Smut. Language. 

SUMMARY: JJS POV of what happens when your starcrossed romance is threatened. 

WORD COUNT: 2000

*REQUESTED*

Kook!Reader cheating on her boyfriend with JJ the pouges know and every time you call him they tell him is bad that he has to stop and mean things about you and he promised that will be the last time but when he gets to your house you tell him you broke up w your bf because you’re in love with him (maybe JJs pov)

Hearts and Minds

JJ's POV

My cheek came to a rest against my knuckles, all to hide the way they tightened as they spoke of her. All because she was a Kook and they held their own thoughts in regards to her. For John B, he was worried about my feelings whereas Pope was the philosopher he was in describing how she was simply exercising her "daddy issues" on me. But it would be Kiara's words that struck a sensitive chord within.

 The way this beautiful yet privileged girl had kept me a secret for the better part of a year. My importance in her life only meaning anything when it was too late to be noticed at her side. And until lately, I didn't mind. But with Kiara, Pope, and John B often left in the dirt as I made some poor excuse when they knew it was to see her, I understood their concern. Even if I didn't agree. It made sense. Painful sense. 

"It's always the same, J. She calls and you drop everything and dip…for what? An hour-" I was quick to scold her for my reputation. 

"Excuse me, Kie," I feigned hurt with a hand to my chest. "Never had any complaints before…"

"She's bad news…" Pope commented from behind his book, a title set on the upcoming collegiate year's syllabus as he remained a step ahead in all things which included stepping on my patience. 

As they continued to discuss her selfishness and greedy tendency to care little for the way I seemingly lived to please her, not that it took much, her name spread across my phone. My eyes shifted to find them looking at me with a unified glare of disappointment. 

"Look, we're just having fun-"

"Having fun?" Kiara scoffed. "She's dating someone else, J! You deserve better than that. I mean…be with who you want…but at least be with someone who is proud to be with you!" Her words, as always, were crass but necessary. And just as before, she was right. I wasn't in the belief I deserved a grand love like something based off a book one of the bored housewives at the country club read between brunch and tennis practice. But I know I should be smart enough to at least distance myself from someone already spoken for. Maybe I was a glutton for punishment. Because every time I was over her, feeling her nails in my skin and her breath whimpering my name, I forgot who I was. The pain. The trouble. She was worth it all because she made me think of only her. But of course, they didn't know this. How could they? Why should they? Because to them, she was just some Kook. 

"You're right." I sighed. "It has to end…I'll go over now…" John B scoffed. 

"If you aren't back in half an hour, I'm dragging you out myself!" Kiara called after me as I hiked myself over the center of my dirt bike to read her message. I fought the smirk on the rise at either edge of my mouth to the familiar picture sent to entice me. It took such little motivation and I'd leave everything behind for her. Because it was more than sex. We smoked. We talked. We fucked. It worked. And now I agreed to walk away from it. From her….

It took only a handful of minutes before I convinced myself they were wrong. It didn't matter what they thought of her, I know how I felt with her. Her touch. Her voice. Her presence. It was worth the shit they gave me. But as I made it in sight of her driveway, prepared to leave the broken promise to my friend along with the gas burned to come to her so quickly, I found her with him. 

Her arms wrapped around him as he kissed her cheek, a sight rage-inducing enough to wrap my hands around the bars of my bike. I could best the other guy in seconds, proving some masculine point that she'd only ridicule me for exercising. But she was worth it to me. That comfort. The conversations nobody knew or had to know that we shared. The way she made everything hurt a little less and feel the pleasure a bit more. But right now, I could leave her this way. Waiting for me. Wondering if I'd show. Just for her to know the pain I felt now. But Kiara's voice returned in my mind that she'd just find someone else. Some other 'victim'. 

"JJ!" Her usual sweet tone made me clench my jaw as she stood beside my bike. The attitude I loved to tame by forcing her to her knees and making her with my need to test her throat was now set against me with humor. A humor I didn't share. 

"Can we talk?"

"Usually when we talk, it's after you got what you wanted…" I explained once I crossed the threshold of her bedroom, the door closed softly behind me. Her eyes sharpened in having been upset. 

"JJ-"

"Sorry, princess, isn't this what you wanted? Me to follow you, like I always do? Make you come and then you go back to him?" It wasn't until now that I realized how jealous I was of her boyfriend. It didn't seem to matter until Kiara compared us. How I couldn't offer much of anything but what she'd already taken in repetition. 

"JJ-" My hands came to my belt. 

"Can't hear you, you're wearing too many clothes-" She moved towards me, but with futile attempts. 

"JJ-"

"Did you want me to see you together? Like I'm not reminded every weekend at the boneyard or everyday I go to work?" I stepped closer. "Does he know how many times I fucked you in that bathroom just around the corner of his favorite table at the Island Inn? How I know you like two fingers bent inside of you and another," I stopped myself. 

"Well it doesn't matter now. I'm done sharing you. I'm done with all your games and your-"

"I broke up with him." I paused. I longed for those words. More than I thought. Not realizing just how much until hearing them. 

"Wh-Did exactly look like it when I got here…"

"We've known each other our whole lives. Not all breakups are explosive…"

"How do I know this isn't some game? Just so I won't leave-" Sighing she pulled her phone to my focus. Written in black and white of a floral background, her phone was broadcasting the conversation she had with her boyfriend. Now ex. A title I favored more than any other. 

"Because I love you, JJ." I was frozen by her words. 

"So now…" She pushed me to the edge of her bed, straddling me. 

"You can have me all to yourself…" Her body felt like sand between my fingers until this moment. Even if I had her in my grasp, she was always slipping away. But now, she was mine. 

"Say it." I ordered with a hand set through her loose waves making up her long hair. Licking her lips, she teased my own as I moved forward to kiss her before she would back. Proving once again she was somehow controlling me still. 

"I'm yours." The smile making up my entire face was enough to make her take the lead once again. Only now it was to remove her shirt. 

"Every inch, JJ…"

"Didn't realize you wanted my cock already, usually you like when I-'' She hit me against my chest as I was quick to set her onto her back. 

"You don't want to take your time?" She teased as I tore her shorts from her hips. I answered by pulling her to the edge of the bed, her legs set over my shoulders. 

"I've already wasted enough time…" I found her favor as she ran her perfectly manicured fingers throughout my messy hair. That familiar pull and accompanying purr made me moan into her, deepening her pleasure. In what seemed like seconds she was already arching her back in protest to the quick orgasm. 

"JJ…" She moaned. 

"Not yet." I dove deeper into her, my arm keeping her flat as she rode into my tongue making quick work of a release. 

"Please! I'm yours!"

" Yeah?" I asked while pulling myself from her thighs as she nodded. For a moment I grinned, rising between her legs. 

"What are you-" She questioned as I removed my phone. 

"You're mine, princess?" She nodded. 

"Then open wider for me, sweetheart. Let me see just how you're mine…" She was bold. Proving this by posing for the camera with her fingers between her legs. Her clit thoroughly adored by her fingertips as I groaned at the sight. 

I leaned down to her, my hand playing with the breast newly owned by my grasp as she writhed beneath me. 

"JJ…" She whimpered as I bit my bottom lip as she rode on her elbows. 

"I think I want to make you come…" She whined. 

"You think?" She moved to the edge of the end as I kept the camera trained on her. 

"This way…" She took my cock in her hand, stroking in perfect corkscrew turns as I humed for her. Torn between watching her and basking in her glossed lips inching closer to me. Suddenly she took me in stride. The feeling of her cheeks hollowed for me made my own suck in with a gasp. 

"Goddamnit!"

She smirked before quickening. All too proud of herself for my liking. Disposing of the phone and my willpower, I pinned her flat. But not to ravage her immediately. I wanted to return the favor of her torment. 

I began softly. Slow enough to feel every goosebump and hear every shudder of her breath. 

"JJ…" She whined as I silenced her with a hand to her mouth. Two fingers, she sucked without guidance to do so as I set them between her legs. 

"Yes…" She breathed in agreeability before her hand wrapped around my wrist. 

"My girl will be thoroughly fucked-" She gasped as I took my other hand around her breast. "And next time it will be at The Chateau so all my friends can hear why it is I put up with your little attitudes…all to hear you beg like this…"

"Because you love me…" I reminded her as she nodded. 

"I do…" 

"You love fucking me…Feeling me inside of you…feeling me come…letting you-" She suddenly turned, her hand pulling at my hair. 

"I love you, JJ…Everything. You." She spoke quickly as I smirked, positioning her leg higher so I could access her as I pleased. And with one final kiss, I felt her wrap around me. 

Time was meaningless as I based it on her moans. For each dire plea came a minute in knowing she was getting close for me. I teased her relentlessly for it, reminding her how I owned every sound she made. She agreed in making such responses even louder and longer for me. Sweat made it easy to glide against her as I gripped my fingers into the sheets over her own. 

"Come with me!" She whined as I was beneath her orders once again. If her body hadn't already offered me such pleasure, maybe I'd have teased her a bit more. But to know she wanted this. For her to know I did, it was enough to forgive her former attitude and taunting. 

"Yes, JJ…baby…just like that…" I bit softly into her shoulder. I loved being hers just as I relished in her being mine. And I proved just how much, as I came as deeply inside of her as I could. Reminding her of me even after I'd return to The Cut. 

"I love you…" I confessed beneath my quick breathing. 

"What was that?" She smirked, simply wanting to hear it again. So I turned her to face me. 

"I love you, princess."

TAGLIST: @hopebaker @drewspisces @penny4yourthoughts @magnificantmermaid @pickingviolets @lovedetlost @trikigirl271 @maybankslover @slut4tangerine @slvtherinseeker @obxiskewl @bluesongbird @slut-era @ailee-celeste @camilynn @sweetestdesire @onmykneesforrafe @jjmaybanksangel @phildunphyisadilf @mashdan0916 @pankhoeforlife @pankowperfection

MASTERLIST

JJ MAYBANK MASTERLIST

JJ MAYBANK 2ND MASTERLIST

JJ MAYBANK X KOOK READER MASTERLIST

MARCH MADNESS MASTERLIST

#jjmaybank #jjsmut #jj maybank smut #jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank fanfiction #outerbanks #obx #outer banks smut #obxsmut #obx fanfiction #outer banks #jj maybank x kook!reader #outerbanks smut #outer banks fanfiction #obxfanfiction #rudy pankow

[iobartach]

GET TO KNOW YOUR ADMIN !!

name — Nix

pronouns — anything at all tbh, i don't mind!

preferred comms — leaning more towards discord than tumblr; i am just a slow replier / not available at times. so gimme a shout if you ever wanna share discord usernames!

name of muse — miguel o'hara / spider-man 2099

experience in RP — coming up fast on 18ish years this july, i think? 🥴tumblr's been the platform i've used the most, i came over from bebo, the original version, way back in the day, and also gave forum and discord server rps a go, but eh, i just like the format of tumblr more? especially for being able to make themes and stuff.

best experiences — fortunate to have had plenty of 'em! with miguel though, i have to say it's been especially fun? i really missed the whole aspect of meeting new people and crafting plots / crossovers when it comes to RP, as i had slowed down on writing for a while to get my career started. but now, i'm so glad to be back at it , more often!

pet peeves/dealbreakers — ahhh, let's see, i've gotten laid back af the longer i've been writing? the things that i appreciate nowadays are when folks take the time out to read over my guidelines, headcanons, bio (it's so poorly written, i am so sorry) etc, but i'm not gonna be a hardass about telling you to do so, either? like, someone taking the time to read my hcs is cool! going the extra mile and mentioning them in threads / plots? damn, kudos to you, i can't thank you enough! and if someone has any questions? my door's always open, i will ramble at you until the crack of dawn about miguel if you give me the chance 😂 but yeah with all that said, i'm not gonna hassle or bother folks if they don't read my stuff or ask me questions.!

that said, though, i do wanna point out that there are some specific things to my flavour of miguel that i'm trying to be consistent about? which, for anyone who's known me for years shouldn't be surprising to hear. i've been meaning to add them to my pinned post for my own / other's reference, and 100% accept that i don't call or jot them down as often as i should, it's all kinda just sitting in my head! oops!

and well... to that end, i'd also like to tentatively say... please don't automatically make assumptions / presumptions about my take on miguel, either? 🙏 yes, he's arisen from the atsv version, which i acknowledge can attract certain... notions. but, at the same time, please respect that he's not a soundboard or a thirst trap. he's a guy that, in my telling, fucked up, royally and is trying to deal with that, in his own way.

same also goes for no meaning no. both in-character and out-of-character. miguel will be blunt / react accordingly to things he doesn't vibe with (physical touch, dehumanising comments [deliberate or otherwise], etc), especially with strangers / unfamiliar people -- and for myself, i've been in enough rpcs for long enough to not allow myself to be strongarmed into doing certain things. i'd expand more about my previous experiences, but a munday post ain't the place for that, so yeah. i just would be grateful for any acknowledgement of this. all i wanna do is write one spidery guy, in relative peace, at my own pace & leisure. cheers !

muse preference ( fluff, angst, smut ) — i'm a glutton for a bit of everything, but i kinda lean lately more towards action and slice of life. fluff is good, but i try to approach it so that i don't overdo it -- same with angst, i thrive on it, but again, all things in moderation ! and of course, if mutuals ever feel like i'm leaning hard towards a particular genre (which i've a tendency to do!), feel free to pull me back a bit, i won't mind!

plot or memes — memes are the balm for my soul, i stg <3 i love how they can be icebreakers, as well as the perfect thing to spark some muse inspiration after spending the weekdays working. i do love to plot, too, and i've been thinking of doing a lot more of it lately, especially as i grow to learn about another mun's muse, but i'm also a bit of a slow burner when it comes to that, largely because of how much of my week is taken up by work (a blessing and a curse :() . so if you're fine with plots & long form threads progressing over months, absolutelyyy hit me up! 👀

long or short replies — cackling me + short reply is rarer than hen's teeth🤣 i can't do one-liners for the life of me, so you'll always get a small paragraph or two. i love doing long replies, especially if my writing muse is thriving, but never fear about matching reply length or anything! i just ... can't shut up, sometimes, lmao.

best time to write — weekdays are a huge hit or miss 🥴 sometimes, i'm able to write, more times, i'm not. so weekends, when i have the time to chill and relax, not stress about things, is when i find my motivation to write thrives the most

are you like your muse? — in one very specific way maybe; little patience for assholes 🤣 . i'd love to be able to take things on the chin, but eh, stupid stuff can get to me at times. if anything, i feel i'm more like miguel's brother gabriel, and i both love and work in tech rather than in science. worked a two-year stint in a medical corpo and i came out the other side vowing to never again do that. 🥴 i'd also love to be a smartass and have miguel's dry wit, but alas i'm just a funky irish potato.🤣

Tagged: @pzfr

Tagging: anyone who wants to steal this!

#munday #late but i'm just gonna... quitely put this out there in the wild #huge thank you to anyone that reads it <3

[cf56]

Ripping them a new one

What. The. HELL?! I can't even begin to describe the depth of my anger and sorrow right now.

The following profanity-laced rant represents only a fraction of my true feelings on this.

If you don't know what I'm referring to, I'm talking about the line to start episode 8, where Yakko and Dot say, in front of him, that Wakko is the worst sibling and they don't need him. Well, I thought it'd only be a line, but it turns out they did it MULTIPLE TIMES!!!

And then the stupid fucking cop out that feels like it's mocking us for giving a shit.

I was spoiled on this line over a month ago because someone talked about the storyboard leaks in the Animaniacs tag. Reading about it almost killed my fandom. Right there, instantly, my love for Animaniacs came this close to dying. It took me weeks before I felt anywhere close to where I was before in regards to loving this show. Why? Because the main and only reason I remain so attached to Animaniacs is the Warner Siblings' love for each other. What's the point in angst if there was never any love to test? What's the point in fluff if that love is hollow and empty, if it never really existed at all? Now, I'm glad I was spoiled and had time to recover. If I saw this bullshit raw, in the show for the first time, there's no telling what it would have done to me. I might have just stopped watching.

I don't care about Yakko's flimsy cop out. This is not what you say to someone you love. This is not something you say about someone you love, even if they didn't happen to be sitting right there. You realize what these words mean? They think they'd be better off without Wakko. THEIR BELOVED BROTHER. It's not so much that they joked about him dying and coming back. I can excuse that as sibling jabs, even if I would still hate it. It's that Yakko said he's always thought that their act would work better as just him and Dot. No, you didn't always think that. You BETTER not have always thought that.

Wakko has suffered emotional abuse before. He's been paraded around as the least popular sibling, as smelly and uncultured, as a gluttonous pig. Through all of that, what did he always have? His siblings, boosting him up, protecting him from the noise. Now the noise is coming from inside his family. That's unacceptable. There was one instance in the original that came close to this. When Yakko tried to sell Wakko in their Jack and the Beanstalk parody, because he gets less fan mail than Dot. That was still miles better than this. For one, it wasn't in their base reality. It was in a parody that would clearly be non-canonical. Second, Yakko didn't go out of his way to verbally abuse his little brother and try to make him feel less valued as a member of the group. It was just a hard necessity, as callous as it might have been.

Yakko would never say something like this. The thought would never even come close to crossing his mind. Dot would never agree to a statement like that. If she heard Yakko say it, she'd wonder what alien came in and replaced her older brother. Least of all would they say it right in front of Wakko, as if they're deliberately trying to hurt him.

It baffles me. It truly baffles me. Was this the writer's first day on the job? How do you go three fucking seasons and not know the first thing about the characters you're writing? The way Yakko and Dot are portrayed here is ten times more out of character than they've ever been written in any fanfic ever posted. Worse, this had to go through producers, storyboarders, animators, the showrunner, and they all looked at this and thought it was okay. I can't truly blame the voice actors, because they're under contract and have to do their jobs, but they should have known their characters well enough to know they would never say these lines. That they shouldn't say these lines.

I truly can't wrap my head around it. Where does this come from? What could possess anyone to think this is a good idea, even an acceptable idea, for even a single millisecond? Does it come from the Family Guy writing culture, where absolutely nothing is sincere, even relationships between friends and family? Do they just not know how to write sarcastic characters that also truly love their closest family members?

They had the audacity to claim they were listening to fan feedback for this season. Tell me, look at all the most popular fan compilations on YouTube about the reboot. Are they filled with moments of the siblings being cold and callous to each other, or are they filled with the opposite? How blind do you have to be to misunderstand the soul of your show and your fanbase so fucking badly? It almost feels malicious. Like someone on the writing staff had a bad experience with their own siblings and made it their personal mission to destroy and pervert the bond between the closest set of siblings on TV. I thought they were starting to get it right with season 2. Season 3, they had to look at what all the fans were saying and realize that they could go even further, right? Give us all the sibling fluff we could ever need? Instead they went the opposite direction. It's becoming clear to me that "listening to fan feedback" really meant listening to "Pinky and the Brain fan feedback." I don't mean to drive a wedge between certain parts of the fandom, but that's just how it seems to be. It's absolutely not the fault of any of the fans who talked about the show.

People will tell me to just forget about it, to consider it non-canon or as something the Warners had to do as part of the script. I literally cannot. Have you ever wondered why all my headcanons are so close to canon? I have freaking OCD. I need everything to be in order, I need there to be a way to make sense of everything together. I can't just ignore certain parts of the show and pretend like they never happened.

I can't even make angst out of this. I can't explain it away in a fanfic or with theorizing. This is the only thing in Animaniacs I can say that about. That's how unforgivably bad it is. It just goes so completely against everything about the characters of the Warners and the spirit of the show that it might as well be foreign to it.

This will affect me for a long time. Some might look at this rant and think I care too much. Yes, I care too fucking much. Look at my blog, for God's sake. Being aware of that doesn't change how I feel. Normally, I try to be courteous. I try to give the reboot the benefit of the doubt, because I truly do value many of the things it's added to Animaniacs. In this case, I don't care. Fuck whoever wrote these lines. Fuck every single person who saw them along the way and gave them their approval. Congratulations on a job well done. This hurts my heart and it will continue to do so for years to come, if not my entire life. I am devastated.

#animaniacs #animaniacs season 3 #animaniacs 2020 #animaniacs reboot #animaniacs spoilers #animaniacs episode 8 #the warner siblings #yakko wakko and dot #cfposts

[whumpacabra]

7. Starved

Angst, [poor] medical treatment of minor injuries, referenced torture, implied starvation, implied past noncon, implied military setting

AU Masterpost / Previous / Next

Harrison should have at least been a little worried about being handed food by the man who had tortured him and his friends. But the sight of a prepackaged, slightly battered sleeve of saltines was like manna in the desert, and he was nothing but grateful.

The Wolf sat opposite of him, back against the door to what Harrison assumed was his own room (his personal hell from what Harrison had seen). Between his gluttonous mouthfuls of sawdust salt and tacky bread, Harrison eyed the Wolf as he tended to his own injuries.

Tended might have been too strong a word.

He slathered antiseptic over his burned shoulder, used butterfly stitches to roughly align a jagged slash across his ribs, and while he took out the gauze, he only regarded it for a few moments before returning it. The cuts raking over his arms, his legs, his back - the Wolf was leaving most of his wounds untreated.

“You should really wrap that.” Harrison was almost embarrassed to speak with his mouth full. Almost. He swallowed before continuing. “Your arm - it's still bleeding quite a bit.”

The Wolf looked at him for a moment, brow pinched in thought. Like the suggestion was a test he could fail.

“I’ll need the gauze more later.” He finally settled on, words measured and slow. Harrison felt a bit guilty for speaking exclusively in English - but he hadn’t asked the Wolf follow in suit, so he didn’t feel that guilty. Plus, the language was clearly more comfortable in his mouth than his perfect but stilted Arabic.

Right. The whole, facade problem Harrison had left in the supply closet behind himself.

“Thanks for the food.” He wasn’t sure how to open an interrogation, despite how many he had partaken in recently. “Now, what the fuck is going on here?”

The Wolf wasn’t phased, not that he let Harrison see, but he did drop his eyes to the medkit as he closed it.

“I don’t know. I'm - my handler would know.”

“Your handler?” For a guy so insistent that he worked alone, the Wolf’s confirming nod was a surprise. “Who is he? Is he - do you know where we are?”

“He’s my handler. You’ve met him - gold tooth.” Harrison involuntarily shuddered at the memory of that particular torturer. He had worked on the last three for weeks before the Wolf showed up. He had kept Harrison isolated in the Box while he tortured Merrick and Elias. “We’re underground, in a desert. I, they don’t - I haven’t gone up in a long time.”

The Wolf’s voice grew tight, fidgeting fingers clasping and unclasping the medkit.

“Is your handler American?” It felt like a betrayal to have the same home as Goldtooth - as that lecherous, blood thirsty son of a bitch. Maybe it was a betrayal, Harrison’s teeth bared as the Wolf nodded slowly.

American. American brands in the supply closet. American mass produced clothes on his back. Probably American sand above it head.

(Had they even ever left Nevada?)

The laugh that barked from his lips was laced with hysteria, choked down with rage as tears slipped from his eyes. The Wolf had gone still and tense - afraid of the half starved, half hysterical man across from him.

Harrison managed to quell his outburst as the Wolf stood, wincing as his legs pushed him off the concrete floor. The distant, surrealness of the revelation was brought into painfully clear focus as the Wolf opened the door to his room. He rummaged in the desk for a moment, and Harrison expected him to leave with the same stiff terror he had when retrieving the food and medkit.

He didn’t expect the Wolf to look back at the mess of blood and bed sheets, swaying on unsteady feet with his back to the open door. Harrison wasn’t sure why he cared enough to call out.

“Wolf? Are you - hey, Wolf.” Harrison scrambled to his feet, equally unsteady in his own right as he licked salt and crumbs from his fingers. He nearly crossed the hallway before the Wolf spun around abruptly, marching to the supply closet - his expression painfully blank.

“Hey - what, slow down - what are you doing?” Harrison felt a tremor of fear rattle in his chest as he blocked the doorway, not letting the Wolf pass with his armfuls of bleach and peroxide.

“Cleaning.” There was a cold detachment from the word as he spoke it, something mechanical. Like he had said it the same way a hundred times before.

“Why? Let’s just go - " Harrison stepped aside, too afraid to continue impeding the Wolf’s mission. The Wolf didn’t respond, dropping harshly to his knees and setting out the supplies in neatly organized rows.

Harrison felt a sigh shudder through him, disgusted by the aching pity still clawing up his throat. He could just leave without him - he didn’t owe the Wolf anything (not anything pleasant).

Then why couldn’t he force his legs to step away, up those infinite stairs to heaven, to freedom?

AU Masterpost / Previous / Next

(An AU of my Freelancers series)

#whump #angst #medical treatment #referenced torture #implied starvation #implied noncon #past noncon #military setting #freelancers au #o7 renewing my own first aid and emergency response training today for [redacted] purposes #by which i mean completely legal but still potentially dangerous participation in society #stay safe out there folks and stay warm its finally fuckin cold out #edit: waugh i tried to post this two hours ago but tunglr died and it never saved/posted :[

[lamentingwclf]

                                           meet the mun.  — basics

NAME:  Wolf PRONOUNS:   she/her PREFERENCE OF COMMUNICATION:  tumblr messenger SINGLE / TAKEN: taken

— three facts

I am a 911 dispatcher - so when i talk about my high stress - high need job. That's it. I work twelve hour shifts, forty-eight hour work weeks (minimum). overtime. nights. weekends. holidays. rain. snow. shine. i'm here more than i'm home.

I can touch my tongue to my nose.

I, as an adult, will still put black olives on the tips of my fingers and pretend i'm a tree frog. no, i will not grow out of it. i'm 31.

— experience

I started on tumblr in 2010-2011? It was right after i graduated high school and ask blogs were all the rage, and the harry potter series ended or was ending - i'm fuzzy on some of the details because i'm old. but i made a blog for neville longbottom and i still, to this day, love him dearly. I stayed in that fandom, helped cofound a roleplay group for harry potter, and inevitably ended up over in the supernatural fandom. There, I played Castiel, for a very, very long time. I started strictly canon, but as the seasons went on - I diverted. There were and still are a lot of breaks in between, I tested Steve as a muse for my first marvel blog, before it was moved to disney plus - it had to have been right around the release of the winter soldier. but inevitably I ended up here, writing Bucky.

— sub-genres

darker themes, angst, i guess is how you'd put it. i guess what's harder for me is fluff - it has a time and place, but nine times out of ten, i'm going to throw a literal wrench at it because it's hard for me to focus heavily on it. i get bored. it's a problem i'm decidedly not working on.

— plots vs memes

memes. i love plots, don't get me wrong, and i'll get ther. but you'll find i'm the absolute worst person to plot something with, or make a decision about multimuses. i like writing a lot of things with a lot of different characters. it's a combination of my brain being hyper focused at work, which drains and exhausts a lot of energy - and my severe distrust of letting people in and close to me. i've had a lot of bad experiences with partners and it causes me to disappear when i'm overwhelmed. it's a frustrating thing people should know about me coming into it.

— long or short replies

long. i'm a glutton. i'm long winded. i have a lot to say. if i post something and promise it'll be short this time. it won't.

— best time to write

i can now say from experience. night. since i'm generally always at work. nights has more down time. it also spares me from getting hyper fixated on something that i have to do prior to sleeping.

tagged by: @defectivexfragmented tagging: you !

#dash games #munday #queued

[diavolosthots]

Felt like crying, so I came to you, my friend! Mc and Mammon went out shopping, specifically to buy gifts for his brothers, as an apology. When they get back home they are met with hostility. They berate Mammon until Mc screams at them to shut up, then rips into each of them for their treatment of Mammon. Then finishes with "Don't expect Mammon to stay here when he can live with me in the humanworld. I'm done with you. Mammon, lets go, you deserve better, love" and leaves w/ Mammon. Thank you!

You came to me because you felt like crying and that gives me two (2) things to think about. 1.) I'm apparently someone who people see as a tissue? 2.) My angst is just THAT good. Also! Apparently today is rain on Mammon day and I'm here for it not me avoiding my exam to write these things

Warning: uh.... Angst?

Soul-Searching (MAMMON X GN!READER ft. THE BROTHERS)

“You know, I’m proud of you for suggesting this.” Truly, you were. Mammon was your favorite and you felt for him, but you also completely understood where his brothers came from. At first, it honestly annoyed you as well; the constant stealing, the lying… You tried blaming it on his avatar, but even then it doesn’t explain the lying that comes with it. However, you do realize that it’s a habit and it’s a habit that is hard to fix, so instead of constantly getting onto him like the rest, you tried to understand him a bit more and give him some life advice. So far, you have managed to get Mammon to give back all the things he has recently taken from his brothers, and some of them even got an apology. You’ll be working on how to properly apologize, though, because oof, that was a mess. 

And now? Now you managed to take a small trip with him downtown to at least attempt to make things better. Mammon is now, or at least today, using his own money to buy some things that his brothers would be fond of: a new vinyl player for Lucifer (non-cursed), a new Ruri-chan t-shirt for Leviathan, a neck pillow for Satan because lord knows he has some cramps back there with the way he leans over and down to read his books. Then some perfume for Asmodeus that he had been swooning about, a gift card to Beel’s favorite restaurant for the glutton, and a heated blanket for Belphie. You were proud, truly, that Mammon wanted to do this. As a matter of fact, he was the one who suggested it. “Maybe… uh.. I could… ya know… buy somethin’ they like” is what he said. You were just excited and agreed to help. 

Now you were going back to the house with a few shopping bags and ice cream almost fully eaten. You paid for the ice cream, as a way to reward Mammon, and you’re sure he’s secretly thanking you for that because some of these items truly did burn a hole into his credit card, which is partially his fault. “Lucifer deserves more than some random vinyl player.” his words, not yours. Also “satan needs one of them neck pillows that massage it, too!” again, his words. So yeah, some money was definitely spent on these items, but… once again, you were proud. “I think they’ll love everything, Mam. They’d be fools if they didn’t.” Hearing you say that made Mammon feel a lot better, honestly, and a small rush of confidence came to the surface “Ya betcha they will! Nothin’ but the best from the Great Mammon!” You just laughed. 

However, upon arrival, it was a different sight. As a matter of fact, you barely made it through the door before Beel was grumbling something about Mammon eating his custard, which is true, but it’s just a custard? “MAAMMMOONNN!!” and then there was Lucifer who appeared so fast you wondered if he was even real. He went on a whole rant about how irresponsible Mammon is and how another bill came in the mail that talks about Mammon’s debt. Satan and Belphegor teamed up to show empty hands, which left both you and Mammon confused, but then “do you see anything here? No? That’s because you sold our belongings, Mammon!” Mammon can be lucky that Leviathan was still holed up in his room because he just remembered that he also, at some point in the past, sold one of Levi’s figures. Asmodeus came last and honestly he wasn’t mad, he was just annoyed. “I saw you go through my things, Mammon. Nothing was taken, but it was still so incredibly rude!” 

Next followed a screaming match which was basically just Mammon trying to defend himself, trying to show the bags and apologize, but none of them would have it. It irritated you. Yes, they had every right to be mad because personal belongings should stay with their owner(s), but at the same time, they didn’t even give Mammon a chance to explain, especially after he’s been holding the bags up and attempting to apologize. “You’re so stupid, Mammon” “StupidMammon” “so irresponsible. You know better than that. Do you need another time out session, Mammon?” “I can’t believe you’d go through my stuff again!” by now your eyes were twitching and the voices echoing off the walls surely didn’t help your case. One more word and you’d snap, surely, especially since Mammon’s hand is now shaking and you grabbing it did nothing at all. “We would be better off without you.”

Ah yes, there it is. The final straw. The amount of anger boiling inside you right now isn’t even manageable anymore and you’re surprised that Satan, as the Avatar of Wrath, has yet to notice it. “Shut up! Shut up, Shut up, Shut up! All of you!” You yanked Mammon behind you, almost protectively and Belphegor found the need to laugh at it. “Really? You’re going to protect him?” Oh, there. That’s your first victim. “Are you really that dense, Belphegor, or is sleep still clouding your brain cells? That is your brother you’re currently making fun of and I don’t know about you, but I was taught that family sticks together, blood related or by choice. So how about you get your head out of dreamland, take this stupid heated blanket that he bought for you, as an apology, and wake up for a second.” yes, you did throw the bag at him and then you pointed your finger at Beel. You’d regret later on that you’re tearing into him as well because Beel means well at the end of the day, but still, he was also part of this. 

“You’re my least worry, Beel. Honestly you’re too caught up in your burgers and brawns to care for a second that your brother tries very hard to be liked by all of you. Sad, really.” you threw the card at him too. As a matter of fact, you threw all of the bags right in front of them. “And then Asmo.. oh my God, first of all, the world doesn’t revolve around you. Shocker, I know. If you were half as empathetic toward your family as you are obsessed with yourself, maybe you wouldn’t feel the need to always go party and drink your life away. Oh, I’m sorry, did that hit just a little too hard? Can’t be harder than the hangovers you wake up with on a regular basis.” You glared at him before turning your attention to Satan. “Honestly, if you weren’t such a baby inside I may actually be scared of you. You always complain about how stupid he is, how he needs to just learn, but you? What do you do all day? You hole yourself up in your room and read about worlds that you wish you could enter. News flash: you’d die before you had the chance to say hello. People don’t like self-proclaimed assholes. Mammon IS smart. He’s very talented, too, but you’re too far up in Shakespeare’s ass that you fail to realize that everyone has knowledge in different fields of life. Give me a break.” 

Satan was about to retort but you already moved on to Levi. “and you! Let’s be honest, if it weren’t for you wallowing in self-pity and fake depression, you would have absolutely no personality traits. What are you again? The Avatar of Envy? How about instead of being envious of others’ accomplishments, you actually start working on yourself. It’s truly pathetic that a couple millenia old demon’s only purpose in life is ramen and self inflicted emotional pain. Seriously, what are you? A pitiful loner? I can’t even begin to empathize with you in any way, shape, or form.” Your blood was boiling right now and maybe if they hadn’t attacked Mammon like they did, you would’ve felt bad about Levi’s sad face right now, but there was still one person left to deal with.”

“And you… beautiful, responsible, way-too-good-for-you older brother, Lucifer.” He’s been glaring at you this whole time, arms crossed over his chest but you stood your ground. You’re not quite sure how you managed, but you did. “You call yourself the best, the most responsible. You constantly say this family would fall apart without you, but that’s not it, is it? I think you’re just lonely. You force these six to be by you, to respect you and borderline worship you. Not because you deserve it…” you chuckled, shaking your head, “no. You’re just so sad that Daddy and Michael left you, mocked you, that you turned your sadness into anger and took it out on these six, but especially Mammon. Why? Because you see yourself in him. You call him your favorite brother, but it’s not because he actually is… he just reminds you of everything you used to be: fun, reckless, and feeling. Now you’re just cold, mean, and bitter. Don’t bother calling yourself the mighty first because without him you would be neither. Maybe if you pulled that stick out of your arse and actually tried to get to know your brothers, maybe you wouldn’t be so lonely all the time. Family, right? That’s what you want. How about you start acting like one.” 

You shook your head after that, grabbing Mammon’s hand and kicking the bags in front of you before dragging Mammon back out the door. “Those are for you, by the way. Not that you deserve them, but they’re Mammon’s way of apologizing for all the things you accused him of the minute he set foot into the house. Have fun. We’re going to the castle and, if we’re lucky, to a real home.” 

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me headcanons #obey me scenarios #mammon obey me #mammon #mammon avatar of greed #shall we date mammon #obey me mammon x reader #obey me mammon #asmodeus obey me #belphegor obey me #obey me lucifer #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me beelzebub #tw angst

[thecraftymagician]

You can absolutely say no and I will understand! But if you’re feeling some angst, Julian and Asra comforting MC who is grieving a loved one who passed? A listing, scenario, whatever you’re comfortable with. i’m a glutton for cathartic angst

I too am a glutton for cathartic angst lol To be fully transparent like always I want to handle this with grace. I've lost someone close to me a few years ago and I can't say I exactly know how to handle these situations myself. Almost every single person I know is very dismissive with this or is extremely distant emotionally about it. I know that's not everyone and for myself I don't find that to be healthy but sometimes that's just how people cope. It's definitely something difficult even though I have philosophies about passing on and everything, it's never easy. If you're experiencing anything like this, please feel free to reach out, I'm hear to listen.

I'm sorry for getting really deep with this one, I know you said you just wanted some angst haha but this one does hit home for me so again, want to do my best with the topic. Honestly this took alot out of me for that reason haha but I think in a way I needed to get this out right now so thank you so much!

Warnings: Talk of passing/unalive, Grief/loss, angst, comfort, advice, coping skills, *Spoilers* for Asra and Julian's Routes

Asra💜

After losing his parents and you passing away, they know the pain and hurt all too well. When someone you love passes away they make it a point to not leave your side unless that's what you ask of them. When they lost you, they isolated and refused to see anyone because of the guilt and rage that consumed them. At first they blamed everything on themself and didn't want to see anyone or be reminded of their failure. In the end Asra finally let himself open back up slowly to Muriel at first and with his help slowly learned how to keep going. That's what you would want right? But this time is different. They feel guilty now more than ever about bringing you back because it's only natural that you'd feel the same and maybe even want to make a deal yourself. Should it arise, Asra helps talk you down from it even if you're screaming and crying. He'll even take you yelling at him for bringing you back in the first place because he knows you don't mean that. He knows sometimes the pain is just too much. In these ways while he'll try his best to hide it, helping you opens his own wounds from losing you. Guilt grips him further because he can at least get to hold you and listen to you speak and know you are safe and here with him.

He'll be the one to keep making you tea and take care of the shop so you don't have to, even closing it on days when you need him. They'll always try and make positive remarks on the worst days where you're too numb to talk. "I think your favorite flowers are almost in bloom. You know the patch in the forest? Maybe sometime this week we can go for a walk and see them." They won't force anything, staying with you through every emotion and stage. If you can't bring yourself to get out of bed, that's okay. Asra will let you sleep for as long as you need but will make sure you're eating and getting water. If you want to do something like a memorial, they're more than happy to help. During the plague there wasn't much time to do such things, save for a pile of wilting flowers for the ones who were lost in the square. They're more than happy to help you make something proper. If there's something your loved one liked to do or that you did together, they'll see if you're up for it. Gently they'll try to get you into doing things you enjoy again. Eventually when you start to feel a bit better, they'll suggest visiting friends or maybe even travelling to take your mind off things for a while.

Julian🖤

While he was still very young when he lost his parents, he remembers the feelings vividly. He had to comfort Portia through it while still not really understanding what it all meant. The grandmas helped significantly making sure to take care of him too so he didn't have to grow up too fast. He learned alot from them and unfortunately alot during the plague as well. Of course he knows the medical side too as much as he's very "do as I say not as I do" / "very seldom follow my own advice" with it. This is like most things with him where he's very forgiving with people he cares about's emotions but not his own. To an extent he might stay up more often, a mixture of worry and his own ghosts and maybe nightmare's haunting him. He makes sure to take care of you both though, forcing himself to use the hours you're able to sleep to calm his own mind from the resurfacing pain. While he still goes to work all the while, he's cut his hours significantly to spend time with you. He'll mostly keep you in his arms, just holding you and gently rocking in his arms like he used to with Pasha. If you don't want to be touched or want distance, he'll respect that even though it breaks him a little as he's not sure about what else he can do. Even so he won't leave completely, staying on the couch if he has to. He also makes sure to get you water and food even if you don't finish it. Mazelinka and Portia will likely send over some food if not come to visit and check in on you, too.

Julian doesn't really like silence so he'll start telling you stories, reading to you, even singing; all soft but nonetheless comforting. When you do talk to him, he's very happy and listens intently. He loves hearing about your loved one and doesn't tire of it for even a second. He'll do little things to help you with self care like setting up nice baths for you, tidying up so you don't need to stress, etc. While nothing as intense as going to the Rowdy Raven, he will try to coax you out to have dinner at Portia's or even just grocery shopping with him. He'll do the heavy lifting and everything but he just wants you to get out of the house even for a little bit. If you see a book or anything that makes you smile, he'll get it for you. Whenever you cry it takes every bit of him to not follow suit. He'll rest his chin on your head so you don't see tears brimming because he doesn't want him to worry about you. He just cares about you so much and wants to do what he can, second guessing himself this whole time wondering if he's doing the right things or if he's doing enough.

#the arcana #thearcanagame #julian the arcana #julian devorak #asra the magician #asra the arcana #the arcana headcanons #the arcana fanfic

[obeymebabes]

Could you do a second part to Mammon running away where the brothers run into him or track him down and they see how terrible he looks and/or they saw him drinking alcohol and just let himself go not caring what happens to himself and when he looks them in the eyes they just see how broken he truly was 💔💔💔💔 I'm a hoe for angst and I just think Mammon needs more appreciation then he gets and I apologize if you're not taking asks I'm kind of new to Tumblr

I don't think I'll ever get tired of writing angsty Mammon HCs.

Warning: Angsty angst. Sad boys. Painful.

Lucifer

When Lucifer first found his brother, he felt his heart shatter all over again.

His sense of pride was completely lost, seeing what he had done to the person he wanted to do nothing but protect.

“Mammon?” He would ask, quietly, as guilt was now visibly written all over his face.

Lucifer could physically see the emotional damage that was done when Mammon turned to him.

The pain that flashed on Mammon’s face upon seeing his elder brother really hit Lucifer hard.

That pain was quickly hidden by anger, Mammon was both pissed off yet somewhat relieved that Lucifer finally came to find him.

“What are ya doin’ here?!” Mammon would scream, eventually letting his anger break him down to tears, ending up in Lucifer’s arms begging to come back, apologizing profusely.

“Shh, it’s okay Mammon. I’m here. I am so sorry. I should have never driven you past your breaking point. Please, please come home, we miss you. I miss you.”

It’s rare to get Lucifer to the point of tears, but in this moment, with the knowledge that his brother was now safe, he was sobbing.

“I never stopped looking for you. I promise I won’t let this happen again. Please, just talk to me next time. I can’t lose you again.”

It was a heart-felt moment that they knew they both needed. 

Levi

We all know Levi doesn’t get out much, so running into his brother had completely caught him off guard.

He honestly didn’t even notice that it was Mammon.

It felt like a scene in an anime. Everything slowed down, Levi’s heart feeling the weight of his previous actions. He was frozen in shock. He hadn’t expected to ever see his brother again.

“Is it really you?” He hadn’t even noticed that he spoke out loud. 

Mammon looked just as shocked as Levi.

“What are you doing here?” Mammon questioned, trying to sound defensive, but in reality he was happy to see his otaku brother.

Levi, snapping back from his frozen state of shock, nearly ran to hug him.

He was a mess, having thought he would never see his partner in crime ever again.

This also meant that he would have a chance to get his money back.

“Hey hey whadda think you’re doin’?” Mammon was quick to try to shove off Levi, messing with him a bit.

Levi would just sit there embarrassed, fiddling with his fingers and mumbling “oh, sorry.” and then Mammon would smile, grab him, and just squeeze him.

“I’m kiddin’. I don’t think ya understand how happy I am to see ya. I’m sorry for leavin’ ya. It was wrong of me to do.” 

“I’m sorry for everything I’ve said to you. I was just jealous, you know? You’re just.. The Great Mammon, and I’m just lame old Levi.”

“Ya didn’t run away like I did, and that makes ya a lot stronger than me. I’m proud to be your brother, Levi.”

With a smile, Levi went back to squeezing Mammon, which was quickly followed by “Dude, you reak, when’s the last time you actually took a shower?”

Satan

He wasn’t the first one to notice his brother. No, instead Mammon was the first to notice him.

“Satan?” Having heard his name, he turned, seeing a very sad looking Mammon standing before him. 

“What in Devildom happened to you?” Satan couldn’t help but question him. Mammon looked terrible. Like he hadn’t slept in weeks.

While Satan was generally cold to his elder brother, his heart pained at the sight of him so broken. 

Without much warning, Satan went in to hug Mammon, explaining to him that he knew what it felt like to feel out of place. 

“Please, Mammon, if you ever need someone to talk to, know that I am there for you. I know I contributed to the mess, but I am sorry. I don’t mean to take it out on you the way I do. I hope you can forgive me.”

Mammon nodded, sending a smile to the Avatar of Wrath.

With a smile, he ruffles Mammon’s hair.

“Besides, I can’t keep pranking Lucifer without you.” 

Asmo

Running into Mammon while he was out shopping was not the way he wanted to see his brother that he felt responsible for driving away.

Upon seeing him, Asmo nearly collapses, dropping his bags, his eyes watering, chest tightening.

He was temporarily frozen in time, right until Mammon caught his gaze, Asmo then lost it.

The Avatar of Lust was now sobbing in the middle of the shopping plaza, but he quickly wiped his tears, launching himself at his brother. 

“Oh Mammon I never thought I’d see you again! I am so so sorry.” 

Mammon was incredibly confused at the heartwarming actions from the brother that he thought hated him most. 

“Asmo? Are ya alright?” 

Holding Mammon’s shoulders, looking at him through watery eyes, Asmo nodded, smiling.

“I never should have said such awful things to you. You are my brother, and no matter how much you get under my skin, please know that I will always love you.” 

With a sign, and a few tears, Mammon nodded, finally giving in and being the one to pull his brother into a hug.

Asmo let out a soft chuckle, letting go to wipe his eyes and retrieve his bags that he dropped moments ago.

“How about I treat you to a makeover? You look like you could use one. Hehe.~” 

Beel

He had seen Mammon lingering around the outside of a restaurant, practically digging through the trash for what he could only assume were food scraps.

Feeling a heavy weight on his heart, he quickly went inside to buy a whole slew of items for both himself and his struggling brother.

When he returned outside, he headed over to his brother, letting out a soft cough to let him know he was there.

“Look I ain’t doin’ anythin’ bad alright! I just- oh. Beel? What are ya doin’ here?” Eyeing the food that Beel had before him, the gluttonous demon handed it to him.

“Take it. It’s for you.” Beel reassured him. 

Taking the time to sit down at a nearby table, Mammon explained why he decided to run, and how he regretted every moment, but he felt so ashamed to come back. Especially after the angry letters that he had written. 

“Mammon, you have all of us worried. We are your family. We are here for you no matter what happens. I know that everyone is harsh on you but we still love you.”

Beel smiled at his brother, watching him enjoy what looked to be his first meal in possibly days. 

When he was finished eating, Beel pulled him into a hug, trying to reassure him that everything would be okay.

“Please come home, Mammon. You don’t have to keep struggling like this with us by your side.”

Belphie

Having woken up in the middle of the night to yet another nightmare about Mammon’s departure, he was taken by surprise when he saw Mammon actually sneaking back through a window into the House of Lamentation.

Rubbing his eyes, he tried to make sure he wasn’t simply hallucinating.

“M-Mammon? Are you really there?”

Jumping at the unexpected voice, Belphie quickly realized that he wasn’t dreaming or hallucinating his brother’s sneaky return.

“Wait-” Belphie grabbed his arm before Mammon tried to flee. “I just want to talk. Please. Everyone else is asleep. I won’t even mention that you were here if you don’t want me to.”

Mammon groaned, giving in to his brother’s request, sitting down to let him talk.

Even through the darkness Belphegor could see the hurt and pain that was lingering across Mammon’s face from just being back in the very place he fled from. 

When talking to him, Belphie explained that he understood the hurt that he was going through. He had also mentioned that he had kept having nightmares about when he ran away, fearing that Mammon would get hurt.

Taking it to heart, and realizing how much this had affected his brother, as well as the others, Mammon reassured Belphie that he would stay. 

“Thank you, Mammon. I am glad that you’re here.” Belphie smiled, followed closely by another yawn. Hopefully now he would be able to get proper sleep, knowing that his brother is alright and safe.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me! #obey me babes #obey me swd #om! swd #obey me! shall we date? #swd obey me #obey me! hc #obey me hc #obey me! headcanons #obey me headcanons #obey me! imagines #obey me imagines #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me demon brothers #obey me brothers

[purple-fireflies]

Number 94. 'I won't lose you too.' For percabeth for the angst/prompt list pls 😊 because I'm a glutton for punishment and feel like this would be great for them 💖

Thanks for the ask! And yeah, I agree I see so much Percabeth with this I didn't know how to start it.

Hope you like it :)

You can find the prompt list here for anyone interested.

Prompt: 94. “I won’t lose you too.”

Percy can't even begin to fathom everyone he lost. Everything he lost.

When he sleeps, he hears their screams, sees their faces, feels every wound. He can't close his eyes because he sees dead bodies in their wake. He visits graves and cemeteries more times a week than he knows.

He knows funeral rites almost better than Nico.

But he has light.

He has his mother, who lights up the world with blue candy, mouth-watering cookies, and a ready smile.

He has his sister, who is so innocent, so purely innocent. So curious to the world.

He has Annabeth, who calms him down when he wakes up in a cold sweat, who steals his cookies, who's always there for him, with a comforting smile or a sarcastic comeback.

Or, he should say, had Annabeth.

It's barely been two weeks, or has it?

He's lost track.

Everything in their house that reminded him of Annabeth is gone. Packed in a box.

That was the one thing he was able to do before letting himself break down.

Nico tries to come, on some days. He tries to offer help, saying that Annabeth is waiting for him.

Annabeth is waiting for him.

Annabeth is waiting for him in Elysium because they finally lost a battle.

An attack on New Rome that Percy just had to go help. He needed to be a hero. He ignored Annabeth's pleas, saying he'll be back before she knew it, kissed her, and left.

She followed him. She pulled him away from the minotaur but got hit in the process.

Percy doesn't remember much after.

He remembers crying. He remembers pleading with her, pleading with the gods.

He remembers telling her that he can't lose her too.

He remembers her smiling, telling him it's okay.

Everyone treats him like he's going to break now.

Like he's glass.

Maybe he is.

He hasn't gone to work since it happened, he only talks to his mom or Nico.

He won't return Grover's calls because goddamnit he can't accept it.

Annabeth, his best friend, is dead.

Annabeth, his partner in crime, is dead.

Annabeth, the love of his life, is dead.

Maybe one day he'll get over it, but today? Today he's going to sit at her grave, with her favorite flower, and tell her about his day.

#percabeth #pjo #annabeth #annabeth chase #percy and annabeth #percabeth headcanon #send me asks #sorry for killing annabeth #percy x annabeth

[nurseofren]

I haven't been able to stop thinking about Philip Altman since that little chat on Discord this afternoon. What if he found out about his girlfriend's obsession with Kylo Ren and fucked her while making her call him Commander/Supreme Leader?? (sorry if this is request is a mess. i'm a mess rn)

Title: A Phillip Altman Halloween

Relationship: Phillip Altman x Reader

Summary: Phillip wants to make up for his reaction to finding out your obsession with Kylo Ren, and he’s a bit... inspired.

Words: 2.6k

Tags: role play, begins with angst, Oral sex (F receiving), delayed orgasm, degradation, PIV sex, choking, bruising.

ST Rambles: This request has existed for MONTHS, and I had the thought to implement it for Halloween. Because like, why not? It’s fun and cute and timely. I think this is the first one shot that I’ve given a decent amount of plot? Anyway, I hope you enjoy and that it is not too corny (:

--

“Hey, Philly? Your sister called and asked if we could take the kids trick-or-treating tomorrow,” you called through the house, setting your keys in the collection bowl. “I told her we would. I hope that’s okay.”

The door clicked shut when you reached to sift through the pile of mail stacked on the credenza’s corner. It was nothing important, just mindless political ads and local festivity promotions.

“Philly? You hear me?”

“And then Kylo Ren thrust his entire, throbbing length into your pussy in one. Fluid. Movement.”

Astonishment captured your every vein with every over-exaggerated word that came from Phillip’s nearing voice. Your thoughts raced, thinking back to the last time you’d used your tablet, trying to remember if you’d exited your most recent AO3 tab before putting it away earlier.

“This, though, this is my personal favorite part,” Phillip came into view, sauntering through the living room, your tablet held in one hand while his other gesticulated.

“Phillip Altman! Stop right now!” you seethed, feeling your dignity slip away as you rushed him.

“Hey, hey, hey, hey!” He held his hand out and struck you with that heart-stopping smile of his. He continued to back away with every step you took, voice half-giddy at the sight of your attempt towards intimidation. “With his gloved hand wound tight to your throat, cock twitching inside your soaked cunt - fucking shit, babe--” Phillip shook his head in disbelief, face still beaming at you “--the Supreme Leader fucked you until the only thing you could process was the sensation of his cum-,”

“Phiilip. Stop. Now.” You walked him against the couch, reaching for the tablet only for him to step up from the floor and onto the cushion.

“Let me finish!” There was nothing but pure, shocked joy tensing his words now. His free hand raised to keep his balance when he next spoke. “The sensation of his cum filling you and seeping down your inner thighs, all the while-,”

“NO!” you shrilled, stepping up on the couch cushion and making a swing for the device he was reading from. To no avail, Phillip lifted his arm away and blocked you from taking the tablet from his grasp.

A string of hearty, deep howls of laughter interrupted his reciting of your most recent fictional endeavor before he could continue. “All the while, the vibrations of the hilt of his alight weapon sending shocks of pleasure from your clit all. The. Way. To your toes.”

“You’re such a fucking dick!” You pushed against his chest and smacked the side of his arm with the intent to harm him. “What is wrong with you?” 

Phillip lowered his arm and offered you back your tablet, your fingers snatching it away from him and tucking it below your arm. He looked down at you and attempted to cup your face, only for you to slap away his touch. His brow furrowed and his mouth twitched.

A short, breathy laugh left him. “Hey, you know I’m just teasing, right?”

“I don’t really care, you know that, right?” Acrid hate flooded your tongue. He’d invaded your privacy and taken something you deemed rather sacred and made fun of it. He was a jerk. You could barely stand the sight of him right now. “I’m sleeping in the guest room tonight-,”

“Oh, come on, babe! I’m sorry, I just never thought you were into-,”

“Do not talk to me right now.” You hopped off the sofa and started toward the stairs. “You need a costume for tomorrow. Your nephews asked that their favorite uncle take them around the neighborhood for candy.” A grunt of frustration left you before you passed the threshold into the plain spare room. “It’s too bad they’re not old enough to know how much of a fucking ass their uncle really is!” 

With probably too much force the door slammed shut and shook the hanging photographs against the wall, your flop onto the bed not helping the matter. For whatever reason it really stung that he’d taken it upon himself to so entirely dismiss something so special to you. He may not have meant it, but he’d been cruel. And the only thing that would heal the wound was time and distance, so you curled under the down comforter and willed yourself to sleep, no matter if it was only six in the evening. 

--

Wendy backed out of the driveway and waved through her window before leaving view. You stood on the front porch and returned the gesture, inwardly dreading heading back inside. Yes, Phillip and you still took the kids trick-or-treating, but there had been scant exchanges of words throughout the day. Phillip had struck a nerve, and you weren’t ready to forgive him for it.

A few more moments longer you found yourself dawdling in the cool October air, but eventually, reluctantly, you took a deep breath and made your way to the master to grab some pajamas for the night. Finding the room vacant, not knowing where Phillip had disappeared, you opted to change there. A pair of black lace boy shorts found their way around your waist before you went to grab one of Phillip’s shirts from the drawer.

“You won’t be needing that.”

A gloved hand encroached upon your forearm, finger and thumb grasping around your wrist so the remaining three pushed the drawer closed. 

“Phillip, stop, please. I don’t want to fuck you right now.” You shook his hand away and twisted to face him, tucking the shirt under your arms to conceal your bare chest. When you caught first glance of him, you didn’t know whether to scream or laugh.

“Who’s Phillip?”

He’d gone as a half-assed Batman earlier, but without the faux abs and the plastic mask, all that remained was an all black ensemble, complete with the floor-length cape, a pair of leather gloves, and a new addition of a rigid line drawn over the right side of his face, starting over his eyebrow and scraping down his neck. He’d even gone as far as to buff out the edges and blend it into his skin. 

“You look...”

“Tell me,” he huffed, brushing a thumb along the taut edge of the t-shirt, “how does your Supreme Leader look?” 

“Phillip, what are you-,”

Two long, gloved, hot fingers hooked over your tongue and pressed to the back of your throat, only pulling back when you gagged on his fingertips. A whimper left as your arm sprung up to take hold of his wrist, stunned by his actions and completely forgetting the shirt you’d been using to conceal yourself. It fell to the floor with a soft whisper of its weight.

“Have some respect,” he slipped his remaining hand along the curve of your side, warm leather sliding with ease and stealing your breath. “You are speaking to the ruler of the entire First Order, after all.” That hand found its way to the base of your breast, fingers cradling it before his thumb wound a circle around your stiffened nipple.

It made you shudder, not only his touch, but how different he really did seem. There was a sense of dedication to the role he’d assumed, something haunting about how demanding he was being. The thought made your insides clench, achingly aware by how hollow you felt. You needed him - Phillip? Kylo? - inside of you, to feel him buried in you and revel in the way he made you feel so complete.

“Now, be a good girl and lie back on the bed.” Those two fingers left your tongue and fell in line with his hand as it momentarily squeezed your throat, holding you for a moment so he could lock you in his stare.

If he was committing to the scene, it only made sense that you should too, right? “Yes, Supreme Leader.”

You crawled up so you could rest against the pillows, hands cradled below your neck and eyes tracking his every movement. Though you tried to contain it, a smile crinkled your eyes.

“You know, this is really swee-woah!”

Phillip grasped both your ankles and dragged you down so your hips were at the edge of the bed. He knelt between your legs, eyeing you from the floor, your elbows digging into the mattress so you could see him.

A hand first smoothed up your calf and led its way under your knee, a thumb stroking your thigh when he was pleased with his hold.

“What did I tell you, officer?”

His voice was so low, so close to unrecognizable; it stole your smile and flooded your veins with adrenaline. A gasp parted your lips, his brow lifting in expectation. “Lie back.”

His other hand reached up to your sternum and pressed you down, wandering again lower to your folds, two seams petting over the supple skin. It felt like heaven, the warm gloves and the pressure of his touch. And maybe you would have said it was, only for him to part you and drag one over and around your clit.

The grip over your thigh tightened to keep you from moving, your hips bucking up at the seam’s sensation. A whine, small and grunted, left, your face growing hot when you felt the tip of his nose press into your inner thigh.

Phillip hummed, a growl, fingers dipping lower so he could coat them in the fluid dripping from your cunt. Fingertips teased your entrance, barely pushing into you. A grunt vibrated against your skin, his nose trailing to our mound before he breathed in a glutton of your scent.

“Don’t stop, Phillip,” you plead, nudging your hips into his face, wanting more. Begging for more.

Two slicked fingers pushed into you in full; it choked you, the sudden sensation of him inside. He didn’t let you get a word out before mouthing at your clit, the tip of his tongue circling it before he took you between his teeth and teased. Your fingers flew to his hair, nails scraping at his scalp and pulling him into you.

The hand wrapped around your leg unhinged your fingers from his head, thumb pressing pain into your palm. You winced, his thumbnail biting a crescent into your skin, the ache intensifying the pleasure between your legs.

“So desperate,” he drawled, rocking his fingers into your core at a devastating pace, so slow and paced it burned at your sanity. “Sit up, I want to see you say my name.”

You obeyed, keeping your legs parted, looking down at him. His cheeks were flushed, mouth glistening with your want, the fingers latched around your hip leather-wrapped and stinging. The sight of his fingers pushing into you sent your head back for a moment, feeling him press into you at the perfect spot. You moaned, soon seething when he bit the flesh of your inner thigh.

Your focus fled back to him, a smirk acknowledging your attention before it grazed down to your slit. “What’s my name, again?”

His fingers were taunting, crooking just right to leave you flayed on the edge. You were so close, his breath washing over you in its proximity, the ghosted sensation tingling down your spine. He watched you, listened for absent words, the faux-scar on his face convincing in the low light. 

“If you want to cum, you’ll say it,” Phillip’s tongue trailed his bottom teeth, “or is the slut at a loss for words?”

Every nerve lit at the term, your hand reaching toward his face to thumb at the scar. The way his hair fell, the cape pooled at his feet, the tease of his tongue glinting in the light; it all combined to push you toward belief. It warmed through you, seeing him for what he wanted to be for you. Pushing your hand through his hair, fingertips lingering under his chin, you fell into what he was offering.

“No, Kylo, I would never disrespect my Supreme Leader in such a way.”

There was a heavy need in your tone, Phillip’s face lighting for half a second before he quickened his machinations and brought his lips back to your pussy. He laved at you, circling and crossing and - you regarded eventually - spelling the words “Kylo Ren” over the flourishing nerves.

He could see you gearing toward climax, feel it in the way your cunt squelched with each push of his hand. You saw him consider something for a moment, a surge of cleverness ignite his features. And then he stopped. Every movement gone, his fingers absent, your body searching for where the promise of fulfillment had gone.

“What the hell? Phil-,”

His mouth took yours when he leaned over you, his hands pushing his pants down. He groaned when his cock bobbed free, hitting the insides of your thighs, his hand claiming your neck and pushing you down onto the mattress. The slowed blood flow dizzied you, his lips rapturous as both of your groaned into each other.

His remaining hand clasped onto your hand and locked your arm above your head. The shock of his grip made you grimace, a haunting sense of pleasure behind each new ache. Soon, though, you could only focus on how he thrust his entire length into you, your back arching into him, a grating cry echoing into his mouth.

“You want me to fill you up, huh? Little fucking whore, want your last thought to be of my cum leaking out of you?”

“Yes, yes Kylo!” The thought catalyzed your climax, skin singing for release with each of his thrusts, legs quaking with anticipation.

“What do you say?” Each word came between a breath, hands biting harder into both fixed positions, your head spinning and hand throbbing.

“Please!” 

“Who’s cum do you want?”

“Yours, Supreme Leader. God, it’s all I want, fucking shit, please, please!”

He hand left right as your brain flooded with pleasure, muscles locking, eyes rolling back, lips parting and orgasm fleeing. His hips stuttered and he cried out along with you, your tight cunt milking him for every drop of cum he had to offer. His lips met yours with a sloppy, breathy plead of a kiss; his hands now cradling your head.

An overwhelming push to mirror his actions stole your breath, hands flying into his hair and pulling him that much closer, feeling his cock slip free from you and streak spend over your belly. He grunted when your legs locked around his waist.

Kisses slowed and you found yourself smoothing your thumbs over his temples, looking over the sweat at his brow. This wasn’t Kylo anymore, this was too sweet. This was the Phillip you knew. The Phillip you loved.

He observed you with the same fondness you were him, his hand brushing back your hair. “Mm, sorry.”

It took you from bliss. “What are you talking about?”

Phillip sighed, kissing the tip of your nose before he continued. “I was an ass yesterday. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

Phillip Altman knew exactly how to apologize. “All is forgiven... Supreme Leader,” you lowered your voice to imitate Kylo Ren, the two of you laughing for a few seconds before finding each other in adoration.

“Oh, and sorry.” A knowing smirk took root in his features.

“Phillip, what-.”

“No lightsaber for your clit?” His brow lifted in suggestion, your tongue circling your canine.

You pulled him down into one last deep kiss, bringing your lips to his ear when you unlocked from him.

In the faintest whisper, your tongue first following the curve of his helix, you taunted him.

“My vibrator is in my top drawer.”

#phillip altman #phillip altman x reader #phillip altman x you #phillip altman smut #phillip altman imagine #adam driver imagine #a phillip altman halloween #smut #fluff #angst

[babycracker]

A dying kiss because apparently I'm a glutton for angst

aren't we all? thank you ❤ i had to think a bit abt who to use for this but i decided on adam and zoe 👀 bc i know you're an adam & mason person and ive alr tortured mason recently, thought i'd better give the bloke a break.

send a ❣ for a random kiss

a dying kiss adam/f!detective (zoe webster) ~740 words mature (major character death, slight mention of blood)

--

It's too late. A strange concept for Adam, one he is no longer familiar with. It's been centuries since being too late for something has been an issue he's needed to concern himself with, time being the one thing he has an abundance of.

But it is definitely too late. He held out for too long, too happy for Nate to ever even think about his own happiness, and now Zoe lays badly injured against his chest, head cradled in his arms, and he already knows that Nate is not going to get here in time.

At least - he hopes - he can be of some comfort to her in her final minutes. He knows it's not the same as Nate being here, something that hurts almost as much as the fact that he's about to lose her forever, but at least he's something. Something familiar, something grounded. And someone that loves her, perhaps more than anyone else could ever love her. Perhaps even more than Nate loves her.

"You really-" her voice is quiet, weak, and she pauses to cough and then inhales raggedly, and Adam can hear the blood gurgling in her lungs as she does, "still don’t have anything to say to me?"

He looks down at her, his hand absentmindedly stroking through her hair as he readies himself to give his usual response.

There is nothing to be said.

But now is not the time. Now it is too late, and they both know that there is plenty to be said. Too much to be able to fit it all into the few minutes she has left to hear it. Because he has waited too long, and it is too late.

He can hear shouts in the distance, recognises them immediately as the rest of Unit Bravo calling for them, and he knows that he should call back. He knows that Nate deserves this chance to be with her and hold her more than he does, but as he looks back out into the woods around them a hand grabs weakly at the lapels of his coat.

"Just a minute more," she insists, the sound of her slowing heart growing louder as it struggles to keep pumping.

"You may not have a minute more," he warns.

"Just be with me for what I've got then."

He nods, drawing her closer to him and finally slumping down to the ground with her so as to pull her onto his lap.

"I am not ready to lose you," he murmurs quietly after a long silence and she shifts, just barely, in his arms.

"Ready or not, you're about to."

He's not sure if the warning in her voice is deliberate or not, but he can't bring himself to ignore it. Ready or not, this is his only chance. He cannot let her go without ever letting her know for sure.

So, he gently lifts her head closer to him as he leans in himself, his eyes falling closed as he lets his lips close around hers. She's barely able to reciprocate, her body growing weaker by the second, but she kisses him back as much as she can, another sharp gasp and cough breaking them apart far too soon.

He doesn't even get to say anything to her. Doesn't even get the chance to tell her a fraction of what he meant by the kiss before she gives him a small smile as her heartbeat slows even more.

Tears sting his eyes when hers close and her heart finally stops, leaving her lying limp in his arms just as the rest of Unit Bravo crash through the trees around them, coming to a sudden halt at the scene before them.

And for once, Adam doesn't push her away from him the second he notices Nate's attention. He holds her body tighter, the unfamiliar sensation of a tear sliding over his cheek breaking his stare away from her as Nate kneels beside him.

He hears his friend talking, hears him sobbing, sees one hand brushing through Zoe's hair, and feels the other arm wrap around his body and Nate's face burying into his neck, his tears soaking the collar of his jacket.

It is too late, but he takes a small amount of comfort from the knowledge that he had managed to show at least a fraction of his affections to her in the very end.

--

tags (let me know if you want to be added or removed): @admdmrtn @masonsfangs @homeformyheart @mmerengue @agentsunshine @bravomckenzie @freckles-spangledvampire @mistyeyedbi @kelseaaa @fhauvilles @amlovelies @forestcreatures @maraudern05 @kat-tia801 @alyssalauren @winterkeys @graysinblack @adamdumorpain @zevorah

#twc writing #the wayhaven chronicles #a du mortain #twc detective #zoe webster #kat writes

[starkeristheendgame]

Hi! Are you still taking prompts? If yes, can you do a Starker one, where Tony is oblivious, and Peter doesn't know what to do, and ask for help to a close friend of Tony and they try to make him jealous by pretending to date and Tony is like of course he is with him he's everything i'm not and having a total breakdown and peter realize that they hurt tony instead and ask for forgivenes and end up together, pleasee? Thank you! If you aren't please just ignore this!

Against my better judgement, my prompts are never closed! Thank you so much for this super sweet/angsty prompt, Nonnie! I realised after finishing this that I never directly included Peter asking for forgiveness, but I hope this feeds you just the same! ❤

TW: Angst | Hurt/Comfort | Self-worth issues | Jealousy | Alcohol mention

SFW

Harley Keener is two years Peter’s senior and nicer than Peter could have ever imagined. When Tony had first started to talk about the ‘the first one he pseudo-adopted’ and how Harley had grown into more of a ‘mini me’ than he could’ve imagined, Peter had felt an uncomfortable twist in his gut. 

What if Harley was better than him?

What if Tony liked Harley more?

What if, with Harley around, Tony didn’t want Peter around anymore?

He needn’t have worried, though. Harley wasn’t as ‘outwardly’ nerdy as he was, but he was more than happy to gush over the latest Star Wars LEGO offerings, and Tony snarked them both in equal measure. It was surprisingly like having another Ned around, and it took less than a week for Peter to feel stupid for having worried about his place besides the two of them. 

Tony even joked that Harley was the ‘prototype’ and Peter was the ‘updated model’, to which Harley had just rolled his eyes, knocked Tony’s spanner off the table like a cat and gone straight back to talking to Peter about ComicCon.

They became fast friends, and Peter supposed that was somewhat why he tended to forget there was a second person in the lab with them here and there, starkly (heh) reminded of it when Harley flopped down next to him on the penthouse couch one evening and said; “so how long have you been in love with Tony?” 

He could have cried. The Avengers he was around almost every other day for the past two years brushed off his doting as a hero complex and ‘mentor crush’ and it had taken Harley Keener less than three weeks to call him out on its true nature. 

Naturally and mortifyingly it ended up with Peter sniffling against Harley’s shoulder, wailing about how Tony was out of his league, how every single possible thing that could was against them, and how worst of all; Tony wasn’t interested. 

“He’s interested,” Harley had shrugged, gingerly plucking a tissue from the box and holding it out to him. He’d been somewhat cryptic about the basis of his statement, but had enthusiastically proposed a manner of ways in which it could be proven. And Peter…

Peter agreed to one. 

He didn’t know why. He wasn’t exactly a glutton for punishment and he certainly didn’t get his kicks out of being humiliatingly, crushingly rejected, but...But Harley had said so make jealous. Tony always wants everything, and when he thinks he can’t have something he just tries harder to get it and Peter had inexplicably said yes. 

Unfortunately (or fortunately, Peter didn’t quite know which) the only real, viable option was...Harley himself. None of the other Avengers would work; since they were all taken, straight and/or highly unlikely to be receptive to fake-dating a teen half (or more) their age. 

Neither Ned or MJ had access to the Tower or could really be around any SHIELD, Stark or Avengers activity, and that left quite literally no-one else but Harley. 

“I mean, in a way, its perfect. I’m the grandmaster of the plan anyway, and you don’t have to wordy about hurting my feelings or me falling for you. We can collaborate flawlessly to get you some Grand-Daddy dick,” Harley hummed around the stick candy in his mouth, and Peter wasn’t quite sure what part of that sentence offended him the most. 

“Does literally nobody want me?” he pouted, bottom lip pushed out dramatically as he kicked Harley’s leg out of the way and picked up the PS5 controller. 

“Hey, chin up, munchkin. You’re prettier than half the girls I know. I’m just not wired that way.”

“You’re straight?”

“I’m not anything. It’s like asexuality and aromantic, but both,” Harley pulled a face, clearly trying to remember the term, then shrugged. “Ah, I can never remember it. Anyway, point is, I’m not interested in anyone. You’re a little cherub, for sure, but you’re cute like a cat, not suck-my-dick cute.”

And, well. Cute like a cat? He considered that a high compliment. 

Thus, Operation Get That Grand-Daddy Dick (Peter did not name it) was underway. They both agreed to keep it natural and subtle, since Tony walking in on them half-naked or all over each other was just likely to spook him off. They’d edge into it; hint that they were spending more time together, act a little cosier, maybe get caught holding hands after a week or two. 

In truth, it wasn’t all that different to how they had been before, except that Harley made his smiles even softer, a little more secretive and let his gaze linger when he was sure Tony would notice. They sat and stood closer together than before, and here and there Harley would press a lingering hand to his back or arm. 

They made sure when one or both left they secreted away just out of sight and took a little too long, standing close together by the elevator and making sure to hug ‘longingly’ (whatever that meant in context) should Tony happen to peek. 

And yet for all his smarts, Tony didn’t seem to particularly notice anything amiss until the first time that he spotted them ‘romantically hugging’. Harley was actually a very good hugger, and they stood in front of the elevator together, with Peter facing it and Harley facing the lab. Harley had his chin over Peter’s shoulder and his hands low and tight on his waist, holding him close. 

“Spotted,” Harley whispered quietly, and moments later Tony spoke up. 

“Well that looks cosy.”

Tony’s voice was carefully level, no betrayal of emotion as Peter shyly disentangled himself from Harley, taking a step away as though caught doing something he shouldn’t. He didn’t have to fake the heat in his cheeks when he glanced up at where Tony stood, arms folded, and he fumbled with the strap of his backpack, glancing across at Harley before he gave Tony a meek smile. 

“Um, I’ll-- I’ll see you Friday, Mr. Stark!” he chirped, shuffling around Harley and into the elevator. Tony was still staring at him as the doors began to close, and Harley turned, casting him a wink and a finger-waggling wave. Peter waved back sheepishly and the moment the doors were shut, he whipped out his phone. 

[To: Thing 1] Did he look mad? It looked like he looked mad. Omg. U gotta tell me anything he says :// [19:31]

Harley did in fact text him back two hours later, though there wasn’t much to report. Tony had made a few flippant remarks that could either be parental interest or slight jealousy, and had dropped the subject after a short while in order to focus on his latest project.

Peter slumped. There was snails who had a faster moving love life than he did. With a groan, he stuffed the last of his anxiety snacks in his mouth and flopped back against his pillow to discuss the next step with Harley. 

Social media was their next plan of attack. Tony followed Peter on Instagram and Twitter, and had his Snapchat even if the older man rarely used the platform, so they were going to up the pressure by hanging out outside of the lab (which they did anyway) and posting it to social media. 

It was too soon to cancel plans with Tony to hang out with Harley (and frankly, Peter didn’t want to anyway) so they simply both made themselves unavailable on certain other days, or hung out together without mentioning it to Tony beforehand. 

They got ice cream at the park, went to the art museum downtown, visited several different cultural/ethnic based stores and went to the arcade to kick ass at air hockey over the course of a few weeks, all while keeping up the poorly secretive touching and closeness at the lab. 

And he’d still have more luck getting blood from a stone.

Tony seemed...Either completely oblivious, or just completely unphased. Whilst Peter caught him watching them here and there with an unreadable expression, Tony never directly asked them or overtly commented on what was happening. There was the odd, “enjoy the park yesterday, kid?” or “saw your post the other day, you should try this place next,” but never anything along the lines of what Peter hoped for. 

Even Harley was starting to doubt his original statement that Tony was definitely interested. 

Especially when Tony was the one who started cancelling plans, telling them both to ‘go enjoy themselves’ and ‘live the lives of young people’. He didn’t do it all the time, but here and there they’d both receive a text telling them not to come today. The lingering looks got longer and more weighted, but even so, Tony made no move in either aspect. 

“I think I’m just gonna have to give it up,” Peter admitted to Harley one night over the phone, hanging upside down in his bedroom with the phone dangling on a web besides him. 

“Maybe he’s just not ready for anything right now?” Harley suggested on the other end, between the frantic sounds of tapping buttons. 

“Maybe-- Oh, hang on. I’ve got an inbound from JARVIS. It might be Avengers stuff,” Peter hummed, quickly twisting to tap on the screen to accept the incoming call from JARVIS. 

“Hey, J. What’s up?” He greeted the AI, blinking at the call screen. 

“Apologies for the disturbance, Mr. Parker, but protocol deems that when Mr. Stark is in distress I establish contact with someone on his emergency list in order to inform them.” The AI’s voice was as smooth and unhurried as ever, but Peter frowned at the screen. 

“Distress?”

“Yes, Mr. Parker. Sir’s heart-rate is elevated and he is displaying significant symptoms of sadness, including light drinking, darkened lighting and angered viewing of your social media.”

“Angered viewing of my social media?” Peter echoed, fear ratcheting up as he dropped from the ceiling and moved to tug on a pair of shoes. Fuck, had he let something sip? Was there something in the background of his photos? Had someone figured out who he was? He was hopping towards the door on one foot when JARVIS spoke again, and he had to hop back to pull his phone down from the web. 

“Why is he sad over that? Did I do something wrong?”

JARVIS was silent for a short while, as though the AI was debating on how best to respond. 

“I... Believe Sir may be feeling lonely. Or unworthy of company. There have been a multitude of such instances over the past several years,” JARVIS replied after a pause, as Peter locked the web shooters around his wrist and tugged the Spiderman mask over his head to avoid any cameras, crawling out of his window and leaping out into the brisk air. 

It didn’t take long to swing to the Tower, especially not when panic and concern had him pushing it, testing his muscles and leaving him slightly out of breath by the time he slipped onto the top landing console. 

JARVIS directed him through to the penthouse and up the set of 12 steps that lead to the ‘upper level’ of it, to an open doorway that revealed Tony Stark sprawled out on his bed, staring blankly at his phone with a neglected, half-open bottle of whiskey loose in one arm, like a newborn babe. 

“Mr. Stark?” he asked softly, and Tony’s gaze flit up to him, clearing immediately. His mentor cursed and jerked upright, almost sloshing the whole bottle over his bedding. 

“Shit! Kid! Wh’r you doin’ here?” Tony’s voice was just hinting on slurred, the same easiness and lack of concentration that came when you’d had a shot too many. Or five. Peter’s heart cinched as he stared at Tony gingerly putting the bottle on the bedside table, at the redness of his eyes and the messiness of his hair where he’d been running a hand through it, over and over. 

“JARVIS called me. He said you were sad,” Peter managed after a moment, hands wringing the mask between his fingers nervously. He’d never seen Tony like this, this...uncomposed. He looked haggard, tired and sad, and it made Peter feel empty and adrift, unsure of how to approach this new version of the man he loved. 

“Fucking snitch,” the older man grumbled half-heartedly, and rubbed his hands over his eyes. “Shit. Don’t-- Ignore me, kid. Adults my age are entitled to a night like this once in a while. Go back home, I’m fine. Fuck, you didn’t leave Harley for this, did you?”

“Harley?” Peter parroted, brows furrowing as Tony waved a hand. 

“Go on, kid. Get. Make the most of being young and pretty with someone young and pretty.” Tony reached for the bottle again and Peter found himself striding across the room, placing himself in the way of Tony’s outstretched hand and the whiskey. Tony’s fingertips brushed his stomach and recoiled like he’d been burnt by the contact.

“Mr. Stark, do you think I don’t want to hang out with you anymore?” he asked after a moment, voice fragile. God, he’d hoped to maybe make Tony a little jealous, but nothing like this. He hadn’t wanted to hurt him. And he clearly had. There was nothing but rawness in Tony’s eyes when the older man looked up at him. 

“I’m not taking it personally,” his mentor attempted to joke, but it came out bitter and too flat to land lightly. Peter’s heart cinched in his chest and he shuffled to sit on the edge of the large bed, teeth on his lower lip as Tony turned away from his gaze. 

“Mr. Stark, I’ve never...I’ve never not wanted to hang out with you. Even if I have other friends, too,” he pointed out tentatively, and Tony scoffed lightly. 

“You’re too good for a world like this, shortstack. For someone like me. You should be trailing after someone like Captain Uptight,” Tony muttered lowly, and Peter scowled.

“You’re not less better than he is. Both of you are good people. Both of you make mistakes. Both of you save the world.”

Tony’s brows pinched, and he breathed out something that just barely sounded like then why aren’t I good enough?

Making an executive decision, Peter toed off his sneakers and crawled further up onto the bed, picking up Tony’s arm and settling down against his side, curling up under his arm and wrapping his own around Tony’s waist. 

He could feel Tony’s heart thumping wildly in his chest, could feel his breath hitch and the hesitant way that Tony let his arm settle over Peter, fingers curling in his hoodie. 

“You are,” he offered simply, squeezing gently. “This is my fault. I was acting like a dumb kid, and I thought... I should’ve known that it was just gonna end badly.”

“Is being my mini-me really that bad?” Tony choked out, and Peter pushed himself upright, alarmed. 

“What? No! Mr. Stark, being around you is the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I don’t ever ever regret being around you! I just... I have to…” He trailed off for a moment, frustrated, then prayed to Harley for forgiveness and sucked in a deep breath. 

“I’m not actually dating Harley. At all. He doesn’t like people that way. Any people. We’re not boyfriends and I don’t want to stop spending time with you to spend time with him. I like spending time with you and you’re still my hero. Tony Stark or Iron Man,” he stated firmly. 

Tony looked at him for a moment, then looked away. 

“You should be with Harley, kid. Or someone like him. Not someone like me. Not someone with my history. I’m a shit person, kid. All this Iron Man stuff hasn’t even wiped half my scoreboard clean. Someone like Harley... He’s the better parts of me. Like you. He’s worth your love”.

Tony seemed almost startled at saying that word, twitching a little before he attempted to turn away from Peter again, gaze finding the far end of the room like he wished he was anywhere but here. 

Peter fidgeted, then sucked in a deep breath. “Please don’t hate me after this,” he fumbled out quickly, then rolled half on top of the older man, hands fisting in the front of his shirt as he leaned forwards. 

The kiss was awkward and clumsy and couldn’t have lasted for than two seconds before Tony pulled away, eyes wide and voice rough. 

“Kid, what-- You can’t--”

“If you say you’re not interested, I’ll respect that,” Peter interrupted. “Or if you say I’m too young or whatever. But if you say anything along the lines you of not being enough, or not being worthy, or-- or-- Or whatever it is you feel you aren’t... You’re wrong. The reason me and Harley were acting like that is because I was trying to make you jealous.”

“What-”

“And I know its dumb! I don’t it was childish and I never thought it would hurt you like this. But I’ve lo-- I’ve really liked you. For years. And I know you’re a lot older and we might never be able to be...To be...Normal. I guess. But I want whatever I can get with you, because you’re worth it,” Peter barrelled on, desperate to at least be heard before Tony kicked him out. Except when he trailed off Tony was just... Staring at him.

“It’s just... Hero worship. You still think I’m some magical superhero and you--”

“No offence, Mr. Stark, but you don’t know what I think. Not when it comes to you, clearly,” Peter cut in, cheeks heating at being so brash. Prior to this he wouldn’t have ever dreamed about being so direct and forceful against Tony. 

Well. Not in any PG-rated sense, anyway. 

“Just... We don’t have to talk about it now, okay?” eh offered, sliding off Tony just a little so he was back up against his side, wriggling around until he could grab the faux fur throw on the bottom of the bed, pulling it up over both of them. Tony remained quiet at his side, just watching as he got them both settled. 

“Just... I’m gonna stay, alright? Right here. With you. Because this is where I want to be, and its where I’m gonna stay until... Until you tell me to leave.” His lower lip threatened to wobble with mounting emotion as he lay his head on Tony’s chest, feeling the thick ridges of his scars beneath his shirt. 

A moment later, Tony’s hand settled lightly over his head, fingers sliding tentatively into his hair. 

“And if I never tell you to leave? If I’m selfish and never want to let you go?” the other man whispered. 

“Then I guess that makes us both selfish, because that would make me happy,” Peter mumbled into his chest, wrapping his arm tighter around Tony’s waist. The room went silent for a while, save for their breathing and Tony’s heart thumping beneath his ear. 

“Okay,” Tony rasped after a moment, and Peter smiled. 

“Okay, Hazel Grace.”

“...What?”

“Nevermind. You’re too old for that reference.”

“You’re a little shit.”

#fanfic #starker #starker fanfiction #starker fanfic #ironspider #ironsider fanfic #ironspider fanfiction #starker au #starker: alternative universe #starker: angst #starker: hurt/comfort #starker: light angst #tw:angst #harley keener #tony stark/peter parker #peter parker/tony stark #tony stark x peter parker #peter parker x tony stark #starker: unrequited love #starker: not unrequited love #sie fics

[firebirdsdaughter]

The longer I think about the disaster 01 turned out to be post-break, the more I'm convinced something went down bts. The whole Gai redemption thing, Horobi going back to square one after actually making a lil bit of process after protecting Jin, the new ZAIA guy turning up so late in the game, the shock value thing with Aruto becoming Ark-One. The moment the break was over, 01 felt like a different show, one that didn't even bother to make any sense.

On the one hand… I’m like… Okay. Pandemic. You don’t know if you’re going to get put on hold again.

And I’m also like… Okay, maybe they sprang on you that you would only have 45 eps bc Reasons.

On another… There is an amount of sense to Horobi’s initial response, it’s pretty in character.

On  the third… I wouldn’t want to watch most of this at normal pacing, either????

Like. Okay. I absolutely agree the tone has been totally off since we came back. Every single ep since the return, everything, and multiple characters, have felt… ‘Off’ is the only way I can describe it. Jin (though we are finally getting back into a more natural beat for him) esp, but also Yua, Gai… Just… Off.

I do have to admit that Horobi’s initial response… Does make sense, esp regarding the fact that his singularity point is Jin, wanting to protect Jin, and wanting to be Jin’s father, and humanity… Would, from his point of view, be a danger to that, and also one to his son, bc he is right, they did, literally, create the Ark.

It’s where they decided to go immediately after that went super off the wall.

I mean, other stuff went off the wall already.

So. My suggestion for what maybe could/should have happened:

Nix Gai’s personality doing a one eighty. Have an alliance of necessity bc the Ark is just that badass (she is). Do everything up to a point mostly the same (though… Maybe also nix Jin’s ooc behaviour towards humans he barely knows, and bc I am a glutton for angst, the simulation idea came from him bc that was how he ended up at the point where he thought he had to kill Horobi, in the vein of becoming convinced he couldn’t save his father but could at least spare him a more painful death, and only really starts warming up to humans when they do something that defies those simulations, or something… I just like the simulation idea for Jin), you can even have Horobi being like ‘human destruction’ if y’all really want that, though it does smack of an ‘f you’ to Horobi fans, bc gods forbid he be allowed any… I’m digressing. Anyway, instead of… Whatever this episode was, maybe there’s still a big fight, but at an integral moment Izu (and maybe also Jin) jump in and are like ‘no, stop!’ Izu shields Aruto and starts prodding Horobi, but Jin shows up and steps in. They manage to at least temporarily calm things down, there’s emphasis on the fact that humans need to give HumaGear a reason to believe in them, too. But all of this upsets Gai, maybe bc he has some kind of personal history w/ Horobi (hey, remember the time he stepped on Horobi’s chest? Bc I do, that was the moment that made me love to hate the character), maybe he had some shemey plan that this is fucking up, and he goes, you know, Gai™—but then the Ark is like ‘hey, free bastard!’ and possesses him instead.

Or some bullshit (Takahashi, if you’re listening, please, some bullshit) where it looked like Horobi killed Izu but it was actually Gai or someone else (Takahashi, I will literally pay money, I will buy the fucking rings, just some bullshit, I’m begging you). Aruto can still go nuts (I… Guess? It’s… Super weird how he’s going psycho over this, but is apparently a-okay w/ Gai just getting a tap on the wrist… Did I miss something? Bc I may not like Aruto much, but… This feels ooc), but eventually manages to snap out of it when that’s revealed. Or bc Izu is resurrected. Maybe bc Horobi brings her back. (admittedly, one of my original ideas for Horobi post-series was him working on recovering any HumaGear who were ‘lost’ when they were hacked… Though now that seems more like a job he can share w/ Naki while he and Fuwa also deal w/ remnants of the Ark/protecting peace as a new AIMS… Ah, spoilers, spoilers…!)

If Takahashi really wanted to make me a happy camper, he’d reveal that Horobi didn’t actually kill Izu and have Horobi bring her back. Sweet, sweet justice.

Anyway.

But yeah, ever since we came back, it’s been… Off. Like… Some of it I’ll attribute to the situation, being even more janky than it was already janky (imo, of course, other people seem to adore it), I mean, global pandemic, we don’t know how unexpected the cut down was for them, and they didn’t know if they were going to be locked down again.

But.

The subject matter is… Not great, despite that. Like… If I felt like we had a logical, coherent-ish, even for Takahashi, story under there… Yeah. Okay. I’d be more lenient. But… This is just… So off the wall. Like, this doesn’t feel like ‘oh, they had to rush bc eps got cut and they were flying blind.’ This feels like… Something else entirely.

If that makes any sense.

I mean. I suppose this could all be wildly popular w/ the kids in Japan. I know the show owes me nothing. But… Still.

#Anonymous #Asks #Firebird Opinions #I have many words #and feelings many of those too #mainly this 'Horobi kills Izu' shit is bs shock value #'oh we're going to end like no other KR series has ended before!' #y'all really think we need that rn? #like… #if they had set it up #but it really just comes across as them derailing two characters for 'shock drama' one of whom happens to be my fave #and you know what even though Aruto is my least favourite this ain't right by him either #I'm sorry THIS is what makes him go homicidal? #you did a fucking Rider Kick w/ the dud who made the Ark tortured your friend tried to have you and your secretary killed #fucked w/ Fuwa's memory and ordered his assassination was an absolute dick to Yua tortured HER #and gods know what else #but your secretary allowing herself to get shot by an android who was brainwashed and mind raped for twelves years #who doesn't know how to handle freedom or emotion and was in the midst of a mental breakdown #bc y'all were pressuring him and reacting aggressively #and you were chilling outside and not heading for the 'root' of the 'problem'??? #THAT'S gonna make you go serial killer okay #yeah no #you don't get to have Aruto be okay w/ Gai's getting not even a tap on the wrist for EVERYTHING he did w/out remorse #but an android/grown up child soldier who was brainwashed and conditioned to be dangerous and volatile gets cornered and lashes out #and your secretary is handed a damn idiot ball by the writers again to poke a damn dragon… #THAT'S unforgivable? #like no I get being upset at Horobi that's why I want Horobi to be responsible for bringing Izu back #but it's weird to me that we're a-okay w/ all the times Gai tried to murder Izu or had Yua nearly murder Izu (and she almost did!) #but Izu chooses not to dodge and obviously this is all exclusively Horobi's fault he's such a horrible monster for being broken #…

[alleiradayne]

Part V - Surgery

Characters/Pairings: Dean Winchester/Castiel Novak Warnings: More fluffy awkwardness, secrets, hiding things that shouldn’t be, little angst Word Count: 1969

“I’m embarrassed.”

Castiel’s eyes snapped to his as Dean shoved another bite of his burger into his mouth and said, “Vis ef fo gud.”

“I take it you like it?”

Liked it? He wanted to make love to that damn slab of meat. Castiel had hand-made and grilled burgers for them, their second—technically, third—date starting off with a dinner that put his cooking to shame. Rather than put words to those thoughts, Dean simply moaned into his food again.

“Sounds like it,” Castiel said with a laugh. “Anything in particular you wanted to do this evening? Only idea I had was to watch a movie.”

Dean nodded, thinking of several in the moment. He swallowed his food and said, “I have a few in mind.”

“Perfect,” Castiel replied with a small smile, one that Dean has seen before. He wondered how often Castiel smiled like that at other people.

“You’re staring,” he said. “Is there something on my face?”

Dean shook his head as he averted his eyes, returned to his plate. “Uh, no. Just… spacing out. Long day.”

“That might have been my fault,” Castiel replied with a grimace. “Sent you a few new patients today.”

“Keeps me employed,” Dean said after another bite of his burger. “I’m not complaining.”

“Good, because I’ll have more for you next week, too,” he said. “My surgery schedule for the next month is quite full.”

“Oh great,” Dean drawled with a roll of his eyes. “Okay, no more work talk. Plans this weekend?”

Dean swore Castiel hesitated, a brief consideration of his words. But then he spoke, confident and steady once more. “I’m in the middle of remodeling the master bath upstairs. Probably work on that most of the weekend.”

“Oh? Need a hand? You know I’m good with mine,” Dean jested, but when Castiel’s brow shot to his hairline, Dean balked. “I mean, with construction. You know. My backyard. I’m…”

“Sure,” Castiel interrupted with a coy smile. “I could use the help. I’ll show you around the house after dinner. Then we can hit up that movie.”

“Sounds good,” Dean agreed.

Dinner continued, talk of plans for the spring and summer extending the meal well after their plates were clean. They concluded with a pecan pie that Castiel had made, much to Dean’s delight. He ate half of it before he stopped himself and apologized for being a glutton. Castiel shrugged with his small smile again, then motioned he follow him into the kitchen.

“Ready for the grand tour?” Castiel asked as he put their plates in the sink.

“Now I’m really embarrassed,” Dean replied, “Your cooking is far superior and you’re a better host. I didn’t even think to show you around my place.”

The warmth of Castiel’s hand enveloped his, and Dean fell silent. A long moment passed before Castiel spoke. “It’s fine, Dean. I didn’t take any offense. Let’s go. I’ll show you the disaster that is this bathroom.”

“Lead the way,” Dean said, and Castiel set out.

The living room gave way to the first level bedroom hallway. A closed door was passed by, Castiel declaring it a complete mess, filled with his junk, and that one day he should sort through it all. Dean found that strange. Most people put their useless junk in a garage or attic or basement. But spare bedroom?

“Silly,” Castiel finished. “I… don’t want you to get the wrong idea. I’m an organized person. Most of the time. Some parts of my life are a little messy yet.”

“I get it,” Dean said as Castiel turned back for the stairs. “We all have messy parts to our lives.” The words were out of his mouth before Dean understood what he meant. He thought of John and Sandra—not that they were the messy parts of his life, quite the opposite—but they were a part he wanted to protect. And when Castiel stared ahead at nothing as he paused at the base of the stairs, Dean wondered. How messy, exactly, was Castiel’s life? Another long moment lingered until Castiel’s thoughts seemed to clear and he spoke. “Ready to see this bathroom?”

“You’re building this up to be quite the reveal,” Dean said as Castiel started up the steps. He followed, asking, “Why are you remodeling it?”

“Mold, mostly,” Castiel stated. “House is over a hundred years old and nobody knew the last time the bathroom had been rehabilitated.” At the top of the stairs he turned into the only room across from a lofted space. “I was only going to replace the shower stall until I found the mold.”

Dean hesitated at the door, stuck at the threshold. “Is this…”

Castiel turned back to him and, with an incredulous quirk to his brow, shook his head. “What’s wrong?”

He crossed the threshold, a tentative step that revealed the entire room. “Your room?” he asked eyeing the bed. “Your…”

“My bed, yes,” Castiel replied. “Are you… Dean, are you nervous about being in my room?”

As ridiculous as it sounded coming from him, yes, Dean’s nerves had unraveled in a matter of seconds. He had imagined being in Castiel’s room under different circumstances. What those circumstances were, he had no clue. After a failure of willpower, succumbing to his base desires? When he came clean about his past, his children? When he figured out whatever it was Castiel hid from him?

“Dean?”

Castiel stood before him, so close, Dean smelled the carpenter’s saw dust and medical soap emanating from him. Warm, too, Castiel radiated a heat that enveloped him. The dizzying combination left Dean speechless, and so, instead, he reached out for Castiel’s shoulder.

“Are you okay?”

Dean nodded with a deep breath. “Show me the bathroom?”

Castiel took his hand and crossed the room with him in tow. “Voila.”

Bare bones, the entire bathroom had been stripped to its framing. Subflooring and beams were all that made up the entire space but for a huge window in the far wall over the tub.

“It is a mess,” Dean stated.

“It’s… a work in progress,” Castiel retorted. “I’m working on the shower first. Once that’s in, the tub and toilet are next. Then the cabinets and counters. Then the floor last. Heated, too.”

“Oh, fancy,” Dean commented. “What’s the water pressure like?”

Castiel sighed. “It was abysmal. House had old lead pipes that I had replaced. Now it’s fantastic,” Castiel motioned to the space where the shower would be, plumbing roughed in. “I’d show you but…”

Dean laughed a nervous chuckle at that. “You want to show me the water pressure in your shower?”

Pink slashed across Castiel’s nose as he stuttered a response. “I mean… sure. Some day. When it’s done.” He rubbed the back of his neck as he averted his gaze, seeming to search the ceiling for something better to say.

Dammit. He’d intended for a casual dinner, nothing more than time to get to know each other. He’d made that much clear last week. But Castiel’s unintentional flirting had bolstered Dean’s confidence, and so, he took a chance. A smooth slip of his hand into Castiel’s drew his attention from the bathroom. With his focus, Dean lead him back into the bedroom until he felt the bed at the back of his thighs. Castiel followed without much convincing, his devious smile matching Dean's. When he licked his lips, Dean indulged, every concern forgotten.

Their lips met in a rush, eager and insistent. Castiel responded to Dean’s every move, each touch mimicked, each swipe of his tongue matched, and each roll of his hips mirrored. With one hand at the small of his back and the other in his hair, Dean enveloped Castiel in an embrace so close, the world faded away, consisting only of them. Oh, how glorious a world it was; strong arms that reached for more, breathless gasps filled with lust, and subtle moans that encouraged his desires.

But that world shattered the second Dean tried to lean back for the bed. Castiel parted from him in a sudden burst of babble about second-thoughts, hands running through his hair. Dean slumped to a seat on the bed, unbalanced by Castiel’s rapid change of mind.

“Cas,” Dean started, but he continued to ramble incoherent half-sentences, “Cas!”

Castiel wheeled about, eyes wide and mouth gaping as though shocked to find Dean still there. A long second dragged before he shook his head, then spoke. “Sorry. I…” he paused, hands raised in confusion. “I freaked out. I thought I crossed a line last week. And now we’re here, doing this awkward dance again.”

“Cas, it’s fine,” Dean excused. “I get it. I… I’m not sure what I want. I drew a line and I crossed it. It’s confusing and it’s not fair to you, especially when you are so sure of yourself—”

“No, Dean, I’m not,” Castiel stated. “I’m really not. And not because of you.” He paused again, then eyed the spot on the bed beside Dean.

Before he had a chance to say anything else, Castiel crossed the space between them and sat beside Dean. He gathered what willpower remained as the warmth of Castiel’s hand enveloped his and a muscled thigh sat flush to his own. He remained silent in the wake of that sudden connection. Son of a bitch, he hoped he hadn't ruined the entire evening.

“I like you, Dean,” Castiel started. “A lot. Hell, more than most people I've met lately. It's been a lonely couple of years.”

“I'm… sorry to hear that,” Dean said. “Good looking guy like you with a giant brain and a big heart must be intimidating to most folks.”

That grabbed his attention. “I can't figure out why you’re single. Compliments like that are few and far between, and you give them so freely,” he paused, reconsidering Dean's words. “It was a compliment, right?”

“Yes,” Dean said as he squeezed his hand. “A much deserved compliment.”

“Okay you can stop—”

“Because you're an amazing cook, too.”

“Sure, but—”

“And an excellent host.”

“Well—”

“With great taste in Scotch, I peeked at your liquor cabinet.”

“How dare—”

“And incredibly smooth hands for a guy that does his own carpentry.”

“Alright, I get it!” Castiel shouted. “You’re still not getting in my pants tonight.”

Dean's jaw dropped as he feigned offense. “And here I was just trying to give you more compliments because you said you get so few.”

The pink hue of embarrassment colored Castiel's nose once more, then spread to his cheeks as he averted his eyes. Dean tried and failed to contain his laughter, but when Castiel shook with his own silent laughter, he leaned back into his full belly laugh.

“Alright,” Castiel said through his smile. “Let's keep the make out sessions to a minimum. For now.”

Dean nodded. “I’d like that. Bare minimum.”

Castiel smiled once more, but it lasted a mere second and never touched his eyes. That look, so full of regret, broke Dean’s heart. Without another thought, he pulled Castiel into him and placed a gentle, unassuming kiss on his lips.

Tension drained from his shoulders as Dean held him close and Castiel melted into him. Fuck, he felt good. No, better than good. Castiel, so pliant in his embrace, enthralled Dean. He pushed no further, hand yet entwined with his, and he enjoyed the kiss for what it was. A simple—long—kiss.

They parted together, timed as if Castiel could read his mind. When Castiel laughed through his nose, Dean shoved him away.

“Alright, enough of this chick flick shit, let’s go watch Expendables.”

Castiel’s cackling laughter followed him from the bedroom, and at that moment, Dean vowed to make him laugh like that every day for the rest of his life.

#destiel #dean winchester #castiel #fanfic #non hunter au #alleiradayne writes #spn fanfic