#any movie where we get to see a close-up on his mouth is top notch for me bud. lemme tell you.

[gorewhore-bitchboi]

Jeffrey Combs, Peter Jackson, and Michael J. Fox tell the story of when they couldn't stop cracking up during the filming some of Jeff’s scenes during The Frighteners.

(from "The Making of The Frighteners" Documentary included on the 15th Anniversary Edition Blu-Ray of the film)

#the frighteners #the frighteners (1996) #jeffrey combs #peter jackson #michael j fox #jeffs laugh is so good. hes so cute #also you can kinda see it in this movie and in from beyond. but i like his teeth. #any movie where we get to see a close-up on his mouth is top notch for me bud. lemme tell you. #babys posts

[potter-imagines]

Best-friends to Lovers (Fred Weasley x Reader)

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Reader

Request: can we get like... a lil fred weasley, you guys are good friends and you don’t usually go back for the holidays, and Fred invites you back to the Burrow to spend the break there and y’all like totally fall for each other 🥺

Warning: None (I switched it up just a tiny bit to where they’ve already developed some feelings but they finally admit them sooo hope you enjoy!)

Word Count: 4.5k

It was a flurry and cold winter night, the kind of night when every breath stings the lungs and every exhale chills the lips. The frigid air, the slippery ground and the sheet of white covering the once green grass. All signs winter was here and cold times were ahead. Even in the highlands of Scotland, the winters were ferosus and unforgiving. You despised the freezing temperature, but Fred was far too convincing and a midnight walk with him was something you couldn’t find the words to turn down.

For the first time in the five years you had spent at Hogwarts, and the five years you had been best friends, you had finally accepted the twins offer on spending Christmas at the Burrow with their family. It was a turn of events in your typical holiday plans which were mostly spent alone at the castle. Your first two years at school you had traveled home for Christmas. It wasn’t terrible, but it wasn’t exactly a ‘jolly’ time either. Family time came few and far between. The sparse time you did spend around your family had grown… awkward. Being the only witch in your family didn’t help much either. As the years dragged on, you felt like a stranger in your own home. Your parents spent their entire year with your younger brother, so he had undoubtedly grown to be the favorite and the prized child. They still loved you of course, it just felt forced to engage with them at times.

So it came as a pleasant surprise when you walked into the Weasley’s home and were engulfed in a warmth you had never known. Molly Weasley was the first to greet you, popping out from the staircase with a shimmering grin. Before you could register what was happening, she pulled you into a bone crunching grip rambling on about how good it was to meet you. Arthur hugged you as well and teased about how much the twins would talk about you, especially Fred. Fred would turn bashful but he didn’t deny it.

Ginny showed you around the house, beating Fred and George to the chance. Molly set up a mattress on the floor next to the youngest Weasley’s bed, something Ginny was over the moon thrilled about. She had been longing for a sleepover with you for years now. Ever since her first term, she followed you around like a little puppy. So your first night at the home, Ginny coerced you into a slumber party immediately.

The twins, mainly Fred, weren’t too happy at this. They were the ones who invited you yet their little sister was stealing all your time. Fred was bitter when you hurried off from dinner to go join Ginny upstairs, not even bidding him a farewell.

George insisted his twin was being dramatic- they had an entire month for Merlin's sake! The feelings his brother developed for you, their best friend, was clear as crystals to George. They both shared a crush on you for the first year at Hogwarts but George’s feelings quickly shifted to a friendship, sister love. Fred on the other hand, well his crush only evolved further. George noticed it the second Fred started combing his hair before dinner and always placing himself the closest towards you. It was a topic they danced around for quite some time. He teased his twin for years until the idea came to him that Fred still felt this way towards you even after years. George had devoted his previous two summers to breaking Fred into admission. All he wanted was to hear his twin confirm his suspicions. Not that he needed that really, other people were beginning to notice as well.

One of them being your temporary roommate. Ginny was a top notch observer. During her second year, she started to catch on to the elephant that followed you and Fred into every room.

That first night, Ginny shed light on her theory by offhandedly making a rather large claim late that first night. While the two of you were chatting softly in the dark, the young girl declared out of the blue,

“I think my brother is in love with you.”

In an instant, your whole body froze over like water on a lake. You were thankful for the dark, it kept Ginny from seeing your wide eyed stare of shock.

“What?”

It was now you could see her small frame adjusting in her bed. Even with the lack of light, you saw her sitting up on her bed, propping her weight on one elbow. It could be assumed she had a devilish smile as she probed on.

“Fred… pretty sure he’s in love with you.”

“Why, what makes you think that, Ginny?”

“Quite a laundry list of things, actually. First, he never shuts up about you. Second, he’s always trying to be around you. Third, he’s always staring at you… bit creepy. Fourth, he’s told our nanna about you! Lastly, and most obvious, I heard him telling George right before school started.”

Laying back down, you fixed your eyes on the ceiling taking in her words. Does your best friend really share the same feelings for you? It was too good to be true, it couldn’t be true, you thought. This kinda stuff only happened in the movies and your life definitely was not a film gracing the silver screen. The butterflies went rampant in your stomach, fluttering about wildly. For a moment, you had forgotten Ginny was there, or that you were in her room, until she spoke again.

“So, what do you think of him?” She asked innocently. Tugging the fluffy blue blanket closer to your chest you replied,

“Pardon?”

Ginny wasted no time and reached over to flicker the light switch on her bedside lamp. A bright light broke through the pitch black darkness of the bedroom. You groaned at the act but Ginny spoke over your sounds of protest.

“Are you in love with Fred?”

Running your hand over your face, you let out a sigh. It was getting too late to be thinking about such heavy topics. You had a great friendship with Ginny, you really did, but if you couldn’t even deal with these emotions on your own, you really didn’t want to throw your thoughts on her.

Turning over on the mattress, you rolled your eyes.

“Ginny, I’m not even dating Fred.”

“But you want to.” She confirmed stubbornly.

“I mean… I-I don’t know, Ginny. Can we talk about something else, please?” You wanted to hide under a blanket and avoid the question for all of eternity. She had caught you off guard and although the feelings you felt towards Fred were strong, it wasn’t something you felt ready to face yet. It wasn’t easy being in love with your best friend- there was so much risk, so much to lose if things went south. You settled on keeping Fred as a friend rather than gamble the option of rejection and a change in your relationship forever.

Ginny perked her brow, opened her mouth as if ready to rebuttal, then deciding against it. The corner of her tip twitched to a smirk as she replied,

“Hmm, okay.”

The topic was dropped for the rest of the night as Ginny went to bed shortly after, but it wasn’t completely over. From then on, you began noticing the constant little redhead attached to your coattails. You noticed each time Fred shooed his sister off and demanded she find something better to do. He was edging closer and closer to his point of eruption. This break was supposed to be time for him to spend alone with you and finally confess his feelings. Not Ginny being your shadow and George tagging along for every outing.

Now on your walk almost a week later, your mind hadn’t stopped wandering to that conversation. Ginny hadn’t brought it up again, at least not vocally. During breakfast the next morning after your talk while you're placed between Fred and George joking around with them, she’ll send you knowing looks, giggling to herself. Harry started to pick up on this as well and you noticed Ginny whispering to him afterwards. It didn’t help that Fred would take any opportunity he could to make you laugh and be in your presence.

Last night you found yourself sitting in front of the fireplace with George, Ginny, Ron, Harry and Fred. A steaming mug of hot cocoa was clutched in everyone’s hand. After about an hour of talking softly and sharing stories, Ginny, Ron and Harry decided to call it a night and trudged up the stairs together. You waved to them as they disappeared up the wooden steps, the sound off their feet turning quieter with every second.

As the three of you sat closely, it felt like you were back at Hogwarts in the common room. George was gushing about a Muggle film you had shown him earlier in the day and Fred was silently listening in, a small smile kissing his lips. You were sat at Fred’s side, your backs against the couch and his arm thrown casually around your shoulder. George was laid on the smaller couch across from the two of you, rambling on to himself. As his talking continued, Fred slowly worked to move your body closer to his and nearly in his lap. He did it so naturally you almost failed to notice. The loud, booming tone of George simmer out within minutes. His voice seemed to sooth him into a slumber as his harsh snores suddenly cut through the air, having talked himself to sleep. This caused the both of you to start laughing. Fred’s arm gripped you tighter as his body shook with chuckles. The sensation sent an odd shiver down your spine. It felt… nice, really really nice to be in his arms.

Fred wondered if now was the time. It was the first chance he had gotten alone with you for almost a week, so there was a good probability he wouldn’t get another for a while. He needed to make a move, something at least! Fred hated not having the bravery like the Gryffindor he was to fess up and spit out the words to describe how he felt about you. Closing his eyes, Fred took a deep breath then peeked his gaze open once more. The nerves had calmed and for the first time, he felt ready and he knew he had to act on it. But as he looked down at you, all the confidence had vanished with one glance. His throat dried as your eyes met and a faint precipitation budded in his palms. All the words he had been rehearsing for a year now simply slipped out the back door.

You took note of the ghost white paleness that took over and immediately sat up, removing yourself from his arms to ask,

“You alright, Freddie?” The concern dripped from your words as you examined the face of your best friend. His eyes were lowered, glued to the flickering flames of the crackling fire.

“Of course, love. I’m sorry, was just thinking.”

“Aw, Freddie, we talked about this. You know thinking is no good for you- you’re brain can’t handle it, darling!” Fred’s heart leaped at the adorning pet name. Only recently had you started calling him more loving names, and it drove him absolutely mad. No girl could ever get his heart racing with just one word like you could. He loved hearing such names coming from your mouth, and directed to him. There was only one name he would die to call you and that was his.

“Can I take you for a walk, love?” The request came abruptly, completely out of the blue. Your eyes widen at his question. Any other time you’d say yes without a second thought. Although, it was late and the land was not a territory you were familiar with like Hogwarts.

Your eyes fell on the window behind the couch. Large white snowflakes swirled from the sky and coated the grounds. The heavy black winter jacket you packed was hung up neatly by the door, not having been touched for at least a day.

Turning your attention back to Fred, you realized his eyes were already trained on your face. At your glance, a hopefully smile reached his cheeks.

“It’s nearly midnight I… actually, why not? Sure. But if we run into any wolves, I’m sacrificing you to them, Weasley.” He laughed at your response and quickly jumped up. You set your hands to your side, readying yourself to stand when suddenly, Fred’s large hands attached to your sides and lifted you up to your feet. You stumbled trying to gain balance but once again, Fred was right there to help you.

Unexpectedly, his left hand extended out and intertwined his fingers in yours. Just as you had predicted, his touch was warm, addicting in a way. It set off a pool of security and protection. Instead of fearing what may lie in the open land outside his house, you trusted Fred.

The tall boy walked you towards the door and pulled your long coat from the hook then threw it around your body. You slipped your arms into the fuzzy material as he yanked his heavy jacket on. Watching the never ending snowfall outside, you worked your hands into the black mittens you had stored in the coat pockets. You hoped it wasn’t as bone chilling outside as it looked.

“Here, I think you might need this, love. You can use my scarf too if you’d like. Don’t want you freezing to death, that’d be hard to explain to George and the rest of our friends.” Fred placed an extra winter hat of his on top of your head. Heat slapped your cheeks at his movements. Fred was commonly sweet towards you but lately, he had been extra sweet. Small gestures here and there were adding up and raising a bit of questions in your mind.

You knocked Fred jokingly on the shoulder and remarked,

“Reckon they’ll send you to Azkaban for that one. I’m a saint, everyone loves me, Fred.” You teased him playfully before accepting his offer with a thank you. Instead of handing you the maroon and gold striped scarf, Fred leaned forward and wrapped it snug around your neck. Once finished, his fingertip tapped against the tip of your nose, grinning to himself.

“You’re not wrong about that. We should get going though. The killer trolls will rise from the ground soon!”

“Knock it off!” You scolded him in a hushed tone, careful not to wake his sleeping family as you chased out of the house after him. Running down the steps, you saw Fred waiting near the car for you. There was an open path behind the car, a makeshift road but the kids used it for a walking guide.

He motioned you over waving exaggeratedly.

“C’mon, darling! You’re taking forever.” Fred moaned on dramatically as he waited for you to catch up to him.  

“It’s freezing out here, be patient.” You waddled over to his side and stood close to his frame, egar for warmth. Fred took in your shaking body and wrapped his arm around your shoulder and tugged you towards his side.

Snowflakes landed on your eyelashes, conflicting your view. Despite the coldness of the winter air, the landscape was beautiful. There were miles and miles of open plains on all ends of the Burrow. In a way, they were isolated, but the atmosphere was live with activity. It was impossible to be bored when the Weasley siblings were around. There was so much to do, in an exploring sense. You had never felt so free, so open before. It was refreshing to spend time at Weasley's home. As the two of you walked together in the crunchy snow, Fred pointed to a large field, a makeshift pitch if you had to guess.

“Charlie and Bill taught George and I how to play Quidditch over there the summer after our first year. Percy hated playing with us! We’d all gang up on him- even if he was on our team- and try to knock him off his broom. I don’t think he’s played with us since! You would’ve died of laughter seeing how angry he got.” You watched as Fred’s features scrunched in laughed at the memory. His contagious chuckles infected you as you laughed along. It was a recollection you could imagine perfectly, even if you weren’t there. Percy was an easy target but he had done it to himself so there wasn’t much room for blame.

Shrugging your shoulders you said,

“I would say poor Percy but he turned me in for being out past curfew so, I’m proud of you, Fred.”

“Sounds like him, just try being related to him. He runs to our parents for everything! Every. Little. Thing. It’s infuriating.” Your cheeks began to sting from smiling so much, but when you were around Fred, it was a given. He had an affect on you that no one else seemed to earn. Even when you were on the brim of tears, Fred always found a way to bring a grin to your face.

But still, you thought about Ginny’s words and the change in Fred throughout your years as friends. Nights were lost tossing and turning over the thought of that prankster redhead who had occupied all your notions.

Lifting your hand up slightly, you grabbed for Fred’s gloved hand. He gladly accepted your gesture and squeezed on your hand as you continued to walk further from the home. Fred’s attention soon dropped as his consciousness drifted once again. Pursing your lips you drew him out.

“Freddie, what’s on your mind? You’ve been different since we got here. I mean, it’s not a bad different. It’s just… something is different with you and you’re my best friend so I wanna know.”

Fred’s eyes snapped up at your concerning voice and the startled expression met yours. This was definitely not a common act for Fred. Your mind raced at the possibility of what it could be but luckily, Fred didn’t make you wait long for an answer.

His pace slowed, but his feet still dragged in the powdered flakes holding your hand. You wanted to hear him speak so bad although you respected the time he needed and waited in silence as you continued to walk. It didn’t take long for Fred to shatter the thin air,

“Can I ask you a serious question? Like one that could change everything.”

“You can ask me anything, Fred. You know this. It won’t change a thing.” You replied seriously. Fred could hear the truthfulness in your words and it calmed him, only a little though. The looming fear, and reality, of rejection was becoming all too real. Even worse than rejection, Fred had a feeling if he didn’t take his chance now, he might never have the opportunity again.

“Do you see me only as a best friend?” The nervousness in his voice broke the peace of the air. Your feet halted at the cavalier inquest. Fred had asked quite the offhand questions before but this, this was new. Mentally attempting to connect the pieces, you tilted your head in confusion.

“Freddie…” The mummer was faint, almost failing to register from your lips. The Burrow was still in near distance and the moonlight provided enough light to search Fred’s face. You weren’t sure what to make of the inquiry exactly, but your heart race excelled in anticipation.

Fred Weasley shifted in the crystalline snow. His hands were shoved deep in his coat pockets and his legs bounced in his stance. You knew him well enough to see the contemplation written across his features.

“Y/n I really really like you. I promise this isn’t a joke or some prank. If you don’t feel the same I can find a way to accept it but I don’t wanna lose you in my life. I just can’t hold it in anymore. It’s been five years of tortue now and… I just needed to get it out, love. I think I might be falling in love with you- if I haven’t already.” As Fred poured his heart out openly, the dripping snowfall ceased all together. It was magically in a sense. The loud slush was now quiet, almost like drizzling rain. His gingerbread eyes were studied upon you, waiting for any sort of reaction to surface. You just gazed up at him scavenging for the perfect words to spill your emotions.

“You’ve liked me for five years?” You asked, stunned. That was impossible. All this time you had spent crushing on Fred and admiring him, stuck in the friendzone, you could’ve just talked to him and been honest. Fred’s eyes darted back to his house then to you anxiously.

“Yeah. I’ve just been too scared to tell you. I don’t want it to ruin our friendship, that’s the last thing I could take.”

Your heart dropped at his words. It was funny in a way, he had the same fears as you. In the same way, you felt guilty for putting him through the same torture you had been going through the last few years as well.

With a surge of confidence, you snapped your head up to Fred and quickly remarked,

“Will it ruin our friendship if I think I’m in love with you too?”

The stillness in the air was unreadable at first. Your gazes trained intently on each other. The uplift gleamed in Fred when he took in your words. All his fears went away like the swish of a wand.

Half out of adrenaline, the other half out of want for years of desire, Fred took one step forward and closed the small gap of space between the two of you by pressing his lips tightly against yours. His hands rested on your face, and the small of your back to keep you steady. This you were thankful for this as his quick actions took you by shock nearly knocking you off your feet.

Your left hand drew up to his hair, finding a tight grip in his shoulder length locks, something you’d been dreaming about doing. The kiss intensified as you indulged in the lock and pressed closer to Fred. Your mouths moved together as if snogging was naturally with you two.

Your lungs demanded air after a few minutes and you slowly pulled away from Fred’s lips and leaned away to regain your composure. You could hear Fred panting at your side, also processing what just took place. Your hands never left each other’s and he suddenly squeezed yours to earn your attention. A genuine look crosses Fred’s face as he whispered into the cold air,

“Can I ask you to be my girlfriend now or do you want me to woo you over on a date first?” His sweet words nearly melted your heart. As easy as you were to please when it came to Fred, this heartwarming exchange felt like the perfect night to declare as a first outing.

“I think I’ll count this as our first date, it was quite romantic.”

Fred rolled his eyes with a smirk. It made him happy that you weren’t demanding or the snotty type. He loved that the small things made you glow with happiness. Even with this, he was still mentally planning a date to take you on before break ended. Although you still had yet to answer his big question.

“So does that mean you’ll be my girlfriend?” You had to swallow back a laugh as you realized you never officially answered Fred. Despite your kiss, he still looked worried you’d turn him away. Shaking your head with a smile you replied,

“Yes, I won’t make you beg anymore.”

Fred wasted no time snatching you by the waste and giving you a small twirl around the snow. A yelp sounded from your lips and you hoped it wasn’t loud enough to wake anyone sleeping at the Burrow. Fred chuckled at your protests and placed you down delicately. Placing his hands on either side of your face, the joyful Gryffindor snogged you lightly, but his passion still seeped through.

“Merlin’s beard, can’t believe it took my stupid arse five years to ask you out. I could’ve been kissing you years ago!”

“Guess we were both missing out. Feel dim for thinking I was going to ruin everything between us if I told you how I felt. But I’m so happy, Freddie.”

“Here, darling,” His gloved hand jerk back to the house, “We oughta head back, now. Mum will kill me if she finds out we were out this late! She thinks you’re an angel so you’ll be fine but I’ll be six feet under by dawn. I can’t wait for morning, though. I can finally brag to everyone that you’re mine, love.” His lips pressed against yours again, desperate to relive the spark and it did not disappoint. Kissing Fred felt natural, like you melted into the embrace. Your lips molded in sync, matching up like magnets. His tongue drew a line across your bottom lips as he kissed you deeper.

Coming back to earth you detached from Fred with a light ‘smack’ noise. Neither of you could wipe the childlike grins off your faces. His plump cheeks turned crimson in the night. Unable to shake off the excitement of the night’s events, you leaned into Fred’s body, giving him a tight hug. He returned the embrace instantly and left a long kiss to the top of your head.

Leaning away, you planted one last kiss to Fred’s cheek then held his hand as you two walked towards his home. The light at the top of the Burrow, assumingly Fred and George's room was turned on. Brightness shone from the window and you pointed up at the sight. The house was only feet away and you started to wonder what George would think of the news.

It could be assumed he wouldn’t be shocked. George spent the last year making comments to you here and there, prying in on you and Fred. Ginny of course wouldn’t be too blown away either, but what about Ron and Harry?

Fred already knew what their reactions would be. He knew without a doubt all of your friends would be thrilled, but no one would be too taken aback by your new relationship. It seemed the only two students who were oblivious to your shared feelings, were Fred and yourself.

“You think they’ll be surprised to hear we’re dating?” You wondered out loud. Fred swung your hand in a back and forth motion as you approached the front porch of the house. Your question obtained a chuckle from Fred as he shook his head,

“Not one bit, love.”

#Fred Wealsey #fred weasley imagines #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley #Fred and George #george weasley one shot #george weasley imagine #Fred and George Weasley #george weasley #george w #weasley twins #Ginny Weasley #weasley #Ron Weasley #Harry Potter #harry potter imagines #harry potter imagine #hp #hp imagines #hp imagine #Gryffindor #hogwarts #ron weasly imagine #Hermione Granger

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Come Now, Little Prince

Prompts: Hey uh... *brushed off dust from crashing in through the roof* Could you write something about Roman or Remus having Agoraphobia and them getting trapped somewhere? My brain just wants to relate. If not that’s fine! Love your writing! - anon

Might I suggest,,,, writing trope where the severely hurt person goes to their nemesis and says “sorry, I just didn’t have anywhere else to go” but it’s with Roman and Janus - 1namelessalien1

Ahh, yes, the inevitable. Honestly a lil surprised I haven't done this sooner but here we go! Finally...

Read on Ao3

Pairings: roceit, dukeceit, creativitwins. can be platonic or romantic you choose save for creativitwins. they brothers

Warnings: roman gets stabbed and has to get stitches, agoraphobia

Word Count: 7611

Cities are full of bright lights and shadows alike. Those that live in the light, the heroes, the 'good guys.' Those that live in the shadows, their grisly work only illuminated when the sun deigns to show its face again. Sometimes the shadows are too deep. Sometimes the spotlights are too much.

The Prince, Roman Prince, is the Golden Boy of the city. The newsreels, the cameras, the public adore him. But they don't see the winces when the bulbs go off right in his face, or whispers to be better, do better, perform better from the people that pull him aside after every daring adventure.

No one knows the name Janus, but they know his work. They don't shout, they whisper. They huddle together in the dark, searching for the light so as not to get caught in his coils.

But sometimes, when spotlights are too bright and shadows too flat, a little prince will make its way into the snake's den.

He didn’t mean to.

He didn’t mean to.

It just—his hand slipped and they fell and they—they—

He didn’t mean to drop them. They weren’t—they weren’t supposed to fall but the knife hurt too much and he flinched and he—he—

The choppers roar around the roof, battering his head with their noise, noise, noise. The wind whips up around the concrete railing, whistling, whining, wailing as the body falls down, down, down. The searchlights glint off the knife as they pull it down with them.

And then he is alone, in a crowd, on the top of a roof, king of the clouds.

The lights glare in his face as their body disappears. Then…then…

Then fear.

———————————

One of the best things about being seen as a ‘super villain,’ and how gauche is that term, is that no one wants to ask too many questions when you rent an apartment. There are really far too many landlords that want to get to know you, want to be your friend, while knowing full well that they participate in a system where there is no ethical consumption or behavior. Really, if he ever starts renting his own property, there will be no illusions on his end.

But hey, at least these ones know not to put their noses where they’ll get bitten off if they poke too far.

Janus sighs, opening the cupboard and taking the teacup down. The kettle whistles merrily on the stove as he reaches for the tea boxes.

Black, green, white, herbal…really, there are so many options. What to have for tonight, then? It is awfully late in the evening, there’s no real justification for consuming caffeine. Then again, he’ll do what he likes.

His phone buzzes. His real phone, not the one everyone sees him carry when he’s out and about. He rolls his eyes and takes the kettle off the heat as he spots the name on the text notification.

R. Sanders: 1 new notification

“What’ve you done now, Remus,” he mutters as he slides the message open, “and which one of your messes am I cleaning up now?”

The message opens to a report. Brief, as is the style of all the reports Janus demands, but the thing that gives him pause is just how brief.

Remus, as one can very well imagine, is…not exactly compliant when it comes to following the rules. And while that can be useful in its own special way, it does mean that Janus occasionally has to factor emojis out of Remus’s reports.

Well, more than occasionally.

But this time the report is two sentences. Janus pours the water into the teapot as he glances over the words.

R. Sanders: Slaughter down at 85th and Marilyn. The head of the beast is cut off.

Well, on paper, that should be a fantastic report. The rival infringing on Janus’s turf has been, ah, taken down a few notches.

That’s undermined considerably by the fact that this report lacks any of Remus’s enthusiasm.

Janus sighs as he settles on the loose-leaf blueberry mint tea, placing the cup aside to brew as he wanders toward the window. Perhaps Remus is simply tired from all this work today. It wouldn’t be the first time the man’s manic energy had been tempered by a good amount of strenuous activity. And cutting off the head of the beast was never going to be a simple job to begin with. True, it was always an issue with causing more collateral damage than Janus was personally comfortable with, but what’s done is done.

The city starts to slumber, the last of the pleasant natural light fading from the sky, giving way to the horrid stained brown of the light pollution. The skyscrapers barely flinch in the oncoming night, instead choosing to stand firm as the workers inside slave away. The smaller shops close their doors, the nighttime crowds vanishing into subway tunnels and bus stations. Janus leans against the window, the glass reflecting the elegant lines of his suit alongside the angles of the buildings.

If he were slightly less himself, he’d say it looks like he belongs here.

When the light fades further, he sighs, turning away and fetching his tea. He drops into his favorite chair next to the window and raises the cup to his mouth.

The head of the beast has been cut off. He has no appointments, no reports, no debriefings to attend. He has his cup of tea, Remus will handle anything that blows up on the networks. It is the perfect evening to be alone, secure in his apartment.

So of course, there has to be something that sends a prickle up the back of his neck.

Why is Remus’s report sitting with him like this? This should be fantastic news, he should be willing to open the bottle of champagne that’s sat in preparation for this moment. And yet, as he raises the cup to his mouth again, his teeth hit the rim and he jolts, spilling a little more than he meant to into his mouth. He swallows, thankful that there’s no one else here to see it, and sets the cup and saucer aside.

He folds his gloved hands behind his back and goes to the window again.

If there were something wrong, someone would tell him. He has eyes all over the city, ears everywhere, and those under his employ know better than to try and cross him. Remus is alive and well—clearly, given by the way the evening’s progressed so far—and wouldn’t hesitate to gleefully drag anyone he suspected into his rooms or an abandoned warehouse.

He spares a glance over his shoulder. The phone stays silent.

Fingers tap against his hand as he looks down. Not for the first time, he wonders what it must be like, down there, scurrying about, without the faintest idea of what it looks like from up here. Oh, he’s walked on the sidewalk outside his building, who hasn’t, that’s how he gets into the building in the first place, but…not like that.

The outside world is so…temperamental. So many people, so many things. There is no better place to be alone than a crowded city street, but there is no more dangerous a place to be yourself.

When he’s finished his cup of tea, and the prickle has not left the back of his neck alone, he stifles a curse and turns. Remus will listen to him. Or, more precisely, Remus will ramble and scheme and reassure him that nothing is wrong. He might get a strange look—because while everyone else can underestimate how much Remus sees at their own peril, Janus never has—but he will do it.

Janus opens the door, idly wondering if he needs to bring his coat, and abruptly stops walking.

There is someone on their knees right outside his door.

Well.

That would explain the feeling he’s had of something being wrong, how on earth his security system didn’t alert him to their presence is beyond him. He doesn’t bother to hide his sigh as he pulls his cane from the holder and tilts their chin up.

“I’m certain that you must be…”

Janus trails off as he tilts up a chin to reveal a bloodstained, agonized expression of someone who should not be here.

“I’m sorry,” Roman Prince says in the voice of a lost child, “I didn’t—I didn’t know where else to go.”

Janus’s fingers twitch on the cane as he watches the roll of Roman’s throat.

“Y-you said if I—if I—ever needed help one day to know better than to—to try and go back to th-them.”

Remus’s report is beginning to make more sense.

Janus remembers. Janus remembers this upstart pain in his ass getting in the way of many operations, from transports to exchanges to hostage negotiations. He remembers the crooked smile straight out of a movie as this little shit got in the way of everything, including his resolve to not get involved with any of the so-called heroes that ran around in this city in their spandex and naiveté.

He remembers shaking his head at this shiny new one and saying that when he realized the world was much, much grayer than he wanted to believe, Janus would be there to watch. He remembers a softer offer, after a rescue had resulted in a building—abandoned, but a building—blowing up and the poor thing looking like someone had kicked his puppy.

He remembers watching the rival’s henchmen carted off to jail as the hero of the hour was reprimanded for causing too much collateral damage by the people who supposedly adored him.

“You were right,” Roman continues in that lost, lost voice, “I’m—I’m sorry.”

It takes Roman reaching for him for Janus to remember what is going on and the cane jerks his head up higher, forcing him to stop. Janus narrows his eyes at the hero kneeling on the floor, takes in the blood on his face, his neck, his hands.

“Why are you here,” he asks, wrenching that chin just a little higher, “why did you come to me?”

“You said you would help,” comes the reply, “if I—if I didn’t want to do this anymore.”

Has the perfect prince killed someone for the first time? Is that what’s brought on this little display?

His eyes trail lower, looking for the weapon.

The light from his apartment shines on a tunic stained with blood, cut and torn, and a dark, ugly stain that is not getting any smaller.

Roman’s head lolls forward, almost nuzzling Janus’s thigh as it slips off the cane. His hair sticks to his face, too soaked with blood.

Janus’s eyes go wide.

Roman Prince is here, on his knees, bleeding out because he has nowhere else to go. He came to Janus, the person he should trust the least out of everyone in this city, and he’s here on his knees, pleading.

The hand not on the cane twitches, then slowly reaches forward to find the least bloody spot on Roman’s head. It runs gently through his hair and finds its way to his chin, lifting it up once more. Roman’s eyes, full of tears, stare back at him.

“Come inside, little prince,” Janus says, his voice far softer than he would normally allow, “you’re bleeding all over my carpet.”

There aren’t many places to go that aren’t carpeted inside Janus’s apartment, but they make it over the threshold before Roman’s state begins to truly worry him.

How did he even get here? By how much blood there is, surely he would’ve passed out by now? Roman seems oblivious to his inside questions, simply looks around for wherever Janus is leading him before he notices how much blood he’s leaving behind him.

“It’s alright,” Janus says, surprising the both of them, “I can have the floor cleaned.”

Roman just blinks at him. And oh, if it doesn’t hurt to see that innocence still in the eyes of the little lamb, even as the wolf goes to take his arm.

“The bathroom is through this way,” he says softly, “come now…”

It is an odd experience, surely, to have one’s own nemesis bloody, wounded, completely at his mercy, as he strips off his suit jacket and rolls up his sleeves, and want to do nothing but hunt down the people that made him this way.

Roman sits like a broken doll, he realizes as he watches the man ease himself down and wait as Janus pulls on a pair of plastic gloves. He is not uncooperative when Janus pushes his limbs to the side, snipping away at the fabric, trying to figure out what precisely is going on. He does not protest when Janus finds the stab wound and presses a cloth harshly on top, nor when Janus grabs his hand and bids him to hold it there, hard. He is not unfeeling, just very, very quiet as Janus begins to douse the pads in antiseptic.

He doesn’t flinch when Janus cleans the wound as best he can—he’s no doctor, after all—before muttering that it’s going to need stitches.

“Oh,” he mumbles instead, “okay.”

“Yes, so—hold still,” he barks, forcing Roman to sit back down, “where do you think you’re going?”

Roman blinks. “You said it needs stitches.”

“Yes, which is why you shouldn’t be moving.”

“I was going to go get the stitches.”

Now it’s Janus’s turn to blink. “I will stitch you up, Roman, now stay.”

And there’s that lamb-like innocence again as Roman tilts his head. “You will?”

“I may not be a doctor,” Janus mutters, twisting to grab the first aid kit, “but I do know how to suture a wound.”

He takes a few more wipes and cleans the blood he can, pointedly ignoring Roman’s attentive look.

“You could be a doctor,” comes the mumble, “you seem…good at it.”

Janus huffs. “Less a doctor, more a medic.”

Roman’s brows furrow. “What’s the difference?”

“A doctor fixes you, a medic makes dying more comfortable.”

There’s a moment of silence. Janus half-expects the poor thing to seize up in fear, tremble before him, or—god forbid—try and fight him, but he does none of that. Because that would make sense.

Instead, Roman just closes his eyes and lets his head fall to the side against the tiled wall.

“You don’t have to make it comfortable then.”

Janus’s hands falter for a moment. His eyes flick to Roman’s bloodstained face before refocusing on the wound in front of him.

“You’re not going to die here,” he says firmly, and if he starts to work a little more quickly, that’s his business, not yours.

“Oh.”

“I imagine you wouldn’t’ve come here with the intent to die on my doorstep, that’s quite rude, you know.”

“…no.”

Now, see, as the best liar in the city, Janus knows when he hears one.

The absurdity of the situation strikes him once again, fainter this time, but still there. Roman Prince is here, bloody, wounded—fatally so if Janus hadn’t started tending to him right when he did— forced to roll over and show his belly, Janus’s teeth at his throat, and yet Janus reaches up to turn that pretty face to his.

“Tell me what happened, little prince,” he commands softly.

Roman swallows. “I didn’t mean to.”

Janus simply raises an eyebrow and starts to stitch up the wound. Roman doesn’t flinch but accepts the silent chide.

“I-it was the building security guard,” he mumbles, “they called in that someone was firing shots in the upper stories and couldn’t—couldn’t get away in time. They were—they—the call wasn’t completed.”

They died while they were on the line, Roman doesn’t say, but Janus hears it.

“Wh-when I got there, there were—they must’ve thought there was a mole in the—on the inside and they started—they were—“

They were killing their own people, Janus realizes, hiding his disgust behind another tied-off suture. He’s starting to have an awful feeling about where Roman’s been tonight.

“Something went wrong in one of the labs. They made a toxin, and it—it—“ Roman swallows— “it drove them insane.”

It made them homicidal, they killed each other.

“I...I think they were going to flee from the roof.”

As Janus ties off the last suture, he freezes.

Oh.

Oh.

Oh, no.

“I tried to stop them,” Roman whispers, “I was holding onto them, it was windy, they were going to fall, they ran too fast out of the door, I caught them, I—I had them, they—they were going to be safe but then they—they—“

Janus presses two fingers to the warm chest next to the wound. He can feel Roman’s heart jumping. He rubs in slow circles.

“They stabbed me,” Roman finishes, “and I—I—I—“

A small noise that sounds too much like a sob swallows the rest of his words.

Oh, this poor little prince…

Roman swallows another sob. “I’m sorry.”

Janus tilts his head. “What’re you apologizing to me for, little prince?”

“Well, I can’t imagine that this is how you imagined spending your evening.”

“No,” Janus says, folding his hands in front of him, “but I can’t imagine this is how you imagined spending yours either.”

The little prince bruises as easily as ever, only this time he doesn’t bother to hide behind his bravado.

“Off,” Janus says softly, tugging lightly at the remains of Roman’s costume, “the rest of you needs to be cleaned.”

He watches unashamed as Roman follows his instruction, eyes traveling over the scars littering the body revealed to him piece by piece. Too many scars. When he stands bare, Janus takes his hands and deliberately cleans them of the blood.

Roman doesn’t stop trembling until Janus has cleaned away every last bit.

The costume will need to be disposed of, there’s no saving it. The floor in the bathroom is littered with bits of blood and the carpet near the door will need to be cleaned quickly. Luckily the cleaner that Janus employs is well-accustomed to such a request. Instead, Janus walks back to the bedroom.

There the little prince sits, looking far too much like a lost child. Janus pauses at the door, tugging his normal gloves back on.

The little prince looks far too good wrapped in Janus’s colors.

“Why did you come to me, little prince,” he asks after a moment, “you had no way of knowing that I wouldn’t kill you.”

Roman lowers his head and the lie from the bathroom plays uncomfortably in his head. Janus tilts his head as Roman clears his throat.

“I thought—part of me thought you would.”

A harsh laugh tears out of his throat before he can stop it. “So what, I was to be your confessional? You would fall on your knees, repent, and I would put you out of your misery? Or put you down, like some misbehaved dog?”

Roman hunches his shoulders. Janus’s mirth disappears in a flash.

“…maybe.”

Roman Prince dragged himself from the roof of 85th and Marilyn, all the way across the city to Janus’s real apartment, disarmed his security, and did not once tend to the stab wound in his chest.

Roman Prince witnessed a slaughter, watched people be driven out of their minds, and dropped someone who did their very best to kill him off a roof by accident.

Roman Prince fell to his knees in front of the one man in this city who he knew would be capable of killing him without a second thought.

“…do you want me to kill you?”

There’s a softness in his voice again, one that slipped unbidden into the words to make the blow seem more like a caress.

“I would make it quick,” he murmurs, still leaning against the doorway, watching the little prince, “it wouldn’t hurt.”

Roman looks at him. The child is lost, so lost, and so, so tired. He opens his mouth.

“Don’t you want to?”

…well.

Does he? Certainly, the little prince has caused more than his fair share of mishaps, messes, and mistakes, and putting him out of the equation permanently benefits Janus in more ways than one. And it’s not like it would be difficult. No one knows Roman is here, let alone anyone who would care, and even fewer that wouldn’t expect him to never be seen alive again. Janus could kill him in half a dozen ways in the next minute that Roman couldn’t possibly fight against, a dozen more that would take scarcely any longer.

Unbidden, his mind begins to list off the possibilities. The gun in the cabinet, the knife tucked into his shirt, the poison stored in the bathroom, even snapping the little prince’s neck.

But he takes one more look at the little prince and all of them vanish in an instant.

“Why did you come here?” he murmurs again.

Roman lets out a long breath. His hand on the borrowed shirt tightens and loosens, tightens and loosens.

“You’re the only one I trust,” he tells him quietly, and it’s the saddest thing he could’ve possibly said.

Janus crosses the room and cups the back of the little prince’s neck. Roman just bows his head, the little lamb waiting for another hand to come up and twist. Janus bites back the snarl of rage at how resigned Roman is to dying tonight and brushes his thumb along the curve of his cheek.

Stroke by stroke, he coaxes the tears from the little prince’s eyes and wipes them away.

“It wasn’t your fault,” he murmurs, leaning his weight against the edge of the bed, “there’s nothing you could’ve done.”

“I could’ve held on.”

“You’d just been stabbed, flinching is a perfectly understandable reaction.”

“But I’ve been stabbed before.”

“It’s not like you build up an immunity to knives going into you.”

“But I—“ Roman cuts himself off, curling his fist tightly in his lap.

“What is it, little prince?”

He just shakes his head firmly, lips pressed tightly together, red blooming on his cheeks.

Well, at least there’s blood flowing properly again. “We’re well past the point of embarrassment, little prince,” Janus remarks gently, “and if you’re worried about sharing weaknesses with me now…”

“I got scared,” Roman blurts, sounding every bit the reprimanded child. Janus pets his hair absentmindedly, encouraging him to speak again. When he won’t, Janus hums quietly.

“You were stabbed,” he reminds again, “that’s understandable.”

“Not of being stabbed.”

Janus frowns. “What then, little prince?”

“I…”

“I won’t harm you, little prince,” Janus murmurs when he hesitates.

“…I got scared of being outside.”

Janus’s hand pauses in Roman’s hair before gently lifting his chin. “What do you mean, little prince, that you were scared of being outside?”

“There—there was nowhere to go, I couldn’t get out, I couldn’t escape, there were too many people, the choppers were so—so loud and I—I didn’t know what to do—“

Fucking hell, Janus realizes as he shushes the little prince tenderly, he’s agoraphobic.

Flashes of their fights and altercations start to make more sense now. Why Roman prefers fighting in dark, cramped warehouses, why losing the hero on public transportation was so easy, why he almost never confronted Janus in public in broad daylight even though he clearly knows where Janus lives.

The weight of the expectations on Roman…how difficult his chosen occupation must be…how little support he gets for something that makes it infinitely harder for him…

Janus doesn’t realize he’s cradling Roman’s head until he strokes his thumb down his cheek and feels the soft brush of hair against his forearm. He looks down and sees Roman’s eyes all but flutter shut, lulled by the gentle touch against his face.

Trapped under the spotlights of the world, laid bare, stripped by their merciless eyes, unable to look away, escape from what they would only see as a colossal failure…

No wonder Roman sought out a denizen of the shadows where he could be sure no one would look for him.

What should, by all rights, feel like a cage to Roman might just become a den.

The snake tightens its coils protectively around the little prince and leans down to whisper in Roman’s ear.

“You’re safe, now,” he soothes, “there is no one else here but me, and I will look after you. There are no expectations here, you cannot do something wrong. I’m here to help you.”

The snake hisses in contentment as the little prince slumps into the coils, letting it pick him up and deposit him gently in the mass of the den, leaving only for a brief moment before returning to his side.

“Shh, shh,” he soothes as Roman blinks about in confusion, “you need to rest, I’ll be right here.”

“Why—what—“ Roman’s head hits the pillow and Janus almost laughs at how quickly his eyes close— “why’re you…helping?”

“You came to me for help, little prince.”

“But you…care?”

And oh, if that doesn’t make the snake’s cold black heart beat warmly in its chest.

“You may be surprised, little prince,” it hisses, drawing the little prince closer and closer, “but you’re not that difficult to care for.”

No, Janus decides, resigning himself to a night of little sleep as he watches Roman’s breathing begin to even out, stroking a hand through his hair, the little prince isn’t so hard to care for after all.

The snake has never been one to spare those that wander carelessly into its den, but this little prince did not do it carelessly. And it is surprisingly easy for Janus to soothe the remaining prickle on the back of his neck by scratching his fingers lightly along the back of Roman’s, to gentle the furrow in Roman’s sleep with a murmured reassurance into the little prince’s ear. The night passes slowly as the little prince dozes under the snake’s coils.

Only later, when the sun has begun to rise, does he realize he’s left his phone on the counter. He sighs, extricating himself gingerly from the sleeping Roman and going back to the kitchen.

R. Sanders: 1 new notification

He glances toward the bedroom and opens the text.

R. Sanders: if you don’t get your security system back online yourself in the next 30 seconds I’m coming over

Well, considering this message is from two minutes ago, Janus simply sighs and opens the door.

“That,” Remus snarls as he stalks inside, “is not the point.”

“I was about to reboot the system, Remus, do calm yourself.”

“I’m not the one who spent the entire fucking night in an unsecured location!”

Janus raises an eyebrow. “By all means, Remus, do keep shouting about my security system at the top of your lungs while the door is still open.”

Remus mutters angrily to himself but has the decency—or perhaps, the self-preservation—to quiet down while Janus shuts the door and turns the security system back on.

“Now then,” he says easily, setting the kettle to boil again—blueberry mint really was the correct choice to make last night— “what would you like to drink?”

Remus regards his tea boxes like he regards the new bottles of bleach.

“You still don’t keep coffee in your house, do you?” At Janus’s look, he sighs. “Just hot water.”

“Splendid.”

Janus takes his time setting up his teapot. Looseleaf black tea, a new teacup, the honey laid out just so, all while Remus’s tapping gets more and more impatient. But Remus is a good dog, he’ll wait until he’d given leave to speak again.

“I imagine you must have a reason for infringing upon my privacy this morning,” Janus says as he stirs the honey into the tea, “if not just to turn my system back on so that a corpse could not be tampered with.”

“I didn’t know if you were fucking dead, Jan,” Remus snarls, and oh, the poor thing was worried. How touching.

“I’m fine, Remus,” Janus says, softening his voice just the barest amount, “and it certainly speaks to the faith you have in me.”

“Yeah, yeah, faith in your something.”

“Come now, dear, let’s not be crass.”

“You like me crass.”

Janus hides a smile behind the rim of his cup. There’s the Remus that was missing from the report. Though as he looks at the loyal minion sitting across from him, he sees that something is still bothering him.

“Well, if that’s all then?”

Remus takes the bait. “Wasn’t us.”

“Pardon?”

“The beast,” Remus mutters, still glancing around the apartment, “wasn’t us.”

Then he spots the blood.

In Remus’s defense, Janus did open the door right as he arrived and he was definitely given time to look around before Janus swept him into a conversation. Still, the fact that it took Remus this long to spot the blood is…well.

“Shit—“ Remus springs to his feet— “are you hurt? How many?”

“Keep your voice down,” Janus murmurs, “I’m not hurt.”

“Then explain to me why there’s blood everywhere—“

“Keep your voice down.”

“Why the fuck should I keep my voice down? Someone was here, there’s fucking blood—“

Both of them freeze as a rustle of covers comes from the other room. Remus’s eyes widen and his hand goes to the gun at his side. In two quick steps, he’s almost to the bedroom.

Janus catches him by the arm.

“Don’t.”

The steel in his tone finally gets Remus to settle, the man glancing at the door once before allowing himself to be held in place.

“What the hell is going on here,” he hisses, finally keeping his voice down, “what aren’t you telling me?”

“Stay out of that room,” Janus orders, even though it’s a redundancy at this point, “and tell me what else you know.”

Remus opens his mouth to protest but a look quells him. He glances at the door one more time before sighing.

“By the time we got there, everything was over. There were network choppers crawling over every inch of that place, swarming with civvies. We had to fence to get in. Janus, they—“

If Remus has to take a breath, what the hell happened?

“God, Janus, it’s like someone gave a neurotic thirteen-year-old a hallucinogenic and a sledgehammer and told ‘em the building was a giant whack-a-mole.” Remus shakes his head. “Heads bashed in, eyes gouged out, like they—they—“

“Like they did it to each other,” Janus finishes.

Remus nods, his face pale. He looks up at Janus and it’s the second time in the last twelve hours he’s been caught off guard by someone’s expression.

“Jan, it’s bad,” he says quietly, “if they—we’re lucky it only got into that building.”

“And you’re certain it’s contained?”

“Someone tripped the quarantine field. The building locked down. Only way out was the roof.” Remus shakes his head. “The head of the beast was splayed out on the street, spine snapped in half, bloody knife. Like he was pinned up like a butterfly.”

He quirks his brow.

“Gotta admire the craftsmanship.”

Janus nods. Remus notices his silence and steps a little closer.

“So who the fuck is in that room?”

As if on cue, there’s another muffled hiss.

“Don’t,” Janus says when Remus’s hand goes to his gun again, “you’ll scare him.”

Now Remus looks at him like he'd grown another head. “Who the fuck is in that room?”

Janus bites back a curse when there are more noises.

“The person who cut the head off.”

“If you think that’s gonna stop me from getting in there—“

“Remus.”

Remus subsides, looking at him carefully. Janus sighs. Remus knows better than to directly disobey an order, and if Janus pushes, Remus will leave.

And yes, part of the snake wants to wrap around its den and keep its precious charge safe from anything else.

A larger part of Janus knows that keeping this information completely under wraps will become a liability quickly.

“Watch the door,” Janus says, letting Remus go.

Remus hasn’t worked for him for this long without picking up some of his observational skills, so he goes without complaint. Janus opens the door to the bedroom and has to stop the fond smile on his face as he sees the little prince trying to feign sleep. As if it’s going to work.

He crosses the room and leans down.

“You can stop pretending now, little prince.”

Roman’s eyes open and the snake hisses gently, noticing the pressure the little prince’s position is putting on his stitches.

“By all means, ruin the work it took to suture you up,” he remarks dryly, chuckling as Roman quickly—and carefully—rolls onto his back, “better.”

“D-do—I can go now,” Roman mumbles, “if—if you—if you want. I can leave. You don’t have to see me again, I’ll—I’ll go.”

Janus quirks an eyebrow. “And let you leave without breakfast? How rude of me.”

Roman’s eyes widen. “N-no, I didn’t mean—you don’t—I—“

“Hush, little prince,” Janus murmurs, petting Roman’s hair again, “none of that now.”

Roman’s eyes keep darting around the room, from the closed door to Janus’s hands to his face and away again. Janus frowns.

“Oh, little prince, have you always been so afraid of me?”

“Yes.”

The honesty takes Janus by surprise. Roman Prince has never been afraid of him, at least not like this, like some creature constantly bracing for a blow. He’s responded brilliantly to whatever jibes Janus throws at him during one of their altercations, always ready with a quip on his tongue or a pretty blush to a flirtation. He’s not—he’s never been this.

Perhaps the little prince is a better actor than I gave him credit for.

There are not many people in this city capable of doing that.

Then there’s the sudden realization that the reassurances from the night will no longer work. Roman was safe because he was alone with Janus, there was nothing he could do wrong that would hurt him, there was an easy way to escape if need be. But now Remus is here, there’s another variable to worry about.

And Roman is no match for the both of them.

“Let me have a look, little prince,” he says instead, leaning down to gently tug the shirt up and out of the way. Despite the hero’s movement, there’s no blood, no popped stitches. The wound will still be tender for a while yet, but there’s nothing to worry about. Not at the moment. He says as much, ending with a soft: “sit up, let’s get you something to eat.”

Roman glances at the door again.

“Remus won’t hurt you,” Janus reassures, “not while I’m here.”

Roman’s head whips around so quickly he frets that the little prince will snap his own neck.

“R-Remus?”

Janus blinks. “Yes, Remus, he’s who’s here, he works for me.”

“Remus Sanders?”

He quirks a brow. “And here I thought you didn’t bother to learn my staff.”

“N-no, Remus Sanders, he’s—he’s not dead?”

Not dead?

Judging by the sudden silence in the other room, Janus has about three seconds to brace for it before Remus slams the door open.

Remus’s eyes are giant, his face almost drained of color. Three quick steps and he’s got a fist in Roman’s shirt, wrenching him away from Janus and slamming him up against a wall.

“Remus,” Janus barks, “put him down.”

It says something about Remus’s state of mind that he doesn’t even register Janus’s command. Instead, the man has a knife pressed to Roman’s throat, every muscle in his body bunched up like a clenched fist.

Roman hasn’t flinched. He’s just staring at Remus, his hands sliding and scrabbling uselessly at Remus’s shoulders.

“Y-you’re alive,” he keeps mumbling, “you’re not dead, you’re alive, you’re safe, you’re—you’re—“

Remus abruptly lets Roman go, shoves him further against the wall and yanks the shirt out of the way to see the stitches. The knife goes back in its holster as Roman keeps babbling about how Remus is alive.

“Was it him,” Remus asks in a soft, dangerous voice, cutting through Roman’s babble, “did that bastard stab you?”

Roman jerks his head up and down.

“…well, at least you finally learned how to stand up to your bullies.”

Ah.

Janus must be getting rusty.

“As much as I hate to interrupt the family reunion,” he says, startling the brothers, “I believe there is still business to attend to.”

Remus has the decency to look a little ashamed at directly disobeying several orders now, but the little prince is still staring at Remus like his life depends on it. Janus shakes his head, crossing the room to gently take his chin again.

“You need to eat, little prince,” he murmurs, “come now.”

He doesn’t have to ask Remus to help the little prince to the kitchen. By the time he’s followed them out—and made sure his tea isn’t ruined—Remus has Roman sitting on one of the bar stools, stood next to him, every bit the guard dog as Roman clutches Remus’s tactical vest. As Janus starts to get something together for Roman to eat, Remus doesn’t move once. Instead, he lets Roman cling onto him, mumble to himself, and absentmindedly rub his cheek against Remus’s chest.

Janus sets a plate of food in front of Roman and picks up his tea again, taking a sip and staring at them over the rim of the cup.

This could be a problem.

Remus’s loyalty is not easily won, nor is it easily lost. The man’s been dragged behind a truck by his fingernails and not squealed once. And yet as Remus lifts his head—finally—and looks at Janus, it’s the first time he’s seen that loyalty waver.

Janus stares back. Remus knows better than to try and cross him. Remus himself has been the blunt instrument that disposes of those who did. Remus knows the extent of Janus’s influence better than anyone else, aside from Janus himself.

And still, that loyalty wavers.

The little prince, oblivious to the staring match happening over his head, mumbles a small thanks as he starts to eat. His hands are still shaking. Remus steps closer, pressing Roman further into the counter and the little prince lets him. The message is clear.

This is the one thing of Remus’s that he won’t let Janus take.

Which would be a problem—or wouldn’t be, depending on how quickly Remus cooperates—if Janus weren’t currently dividing his attention between Remus and how his hands are itching to wipe the last speck of blood from the little prince’s hairline.

It takes barely a glance for Remus to understand that Janus would never.

“Little prince,” Janus murmurs, coming around to the other side of the counter once Roman finishes, “I need to have a talk with Remus, do you think you can sleep a little more?”

“I can try.”

“Let’s have you try.” Janus glances at Remus.

“C’mon, Ro-Bro,” Remus says quietly, one arm around Roman’s waist, “back to bed.”

“Re?”

“I gotcha, Roro, I’m right here.”

How adorable.

Remus closes the bedroom door and there’s a long pause.

“Fuck.”

“My thoughts exactly.” Janus takes another sip of his tea. “Does anyone else know what happened?”

“The networks have a hold of the main story, they won’t know what happened inside until the lockdown expires, but Jan—if he was there—“

“The choppers saw him.”

“Shit.”

“They saw him drop the beast’s head but him fleeing the scene won’t look good.”

“I’ve got the team scrambling the data, the location of the beast’s head won’t reach the airwaves.”

“Good.”

Another pause.

“…why’d he come here?”

Janus settles the cup back in its saucer. “…he said I was the only one he could trust.”

Remus snarls. “As if we needed more proof that they treat their people like shit.”

“Believe me, I’ve got quite the list of people I’d like to question.”

Remus bares his teeth. “Don’t do it without me.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, dear.” He watches Remus stare at the door. “So…you have a brother?”

“Don’t act like you didn’t know that from the extensive background check you did.”

Janus accepts it, setting the teacup aside. “The famous Roman Prince…oh, how the mighty have fallen.”

Remus’s head flicks sharply around to stare at him. But Janus says it with none of his usual flare, dragging his gloved fingertips along the counter.

“Has he always been so…” He fumbles for the right word.

There isn’t one.

Thankfully, Remus understands what he’s trying to get at.

“It’s hard not to,” he mumbles, “even when I hated him—and I hated him, he was always…”

Remus trails off into silence too.

“There was never a moment where I didn’t know that he was still my fucking brother.”

This is dangerous.

The closest thing Janus has to a weakness, up until this point, has been Remus. And Remus is a loyal man, but even he knows Janus will watch him die and feel only the slightest bit of remorse that a useful tool will no longer be in use.

But not anymore.

“I think he wanted me to kill him,” Janus murmurs, noting the way that Remus jerks in surprise.

“Do you think that’s why he came?”

“He told me that I was right,” he says, “that I was—that he remembered I’d told him if he ever realized he couldn’t do it anymore, if he ever needed help, that he should know better than to go back to the people that pretend to care about him.”

“You basically told him you’d be his suicide gun?”

“I didn’t mean it like that, Remus,” Janus says lowly, looking up.

Remus regards him. “Would you have?”

“Killed him?”

“Yes.”

Could he have killed Roman Prince? Yes, easily.

Can he kill the little prince in the bedroom?

“My God,” Remus breathes, “you can’t do it, can you?”

Janus shakes his head. Like it or not, the snake can’t kill the little prince.

“So what now?”

Janus stands up straight. “The city isn’t just going to let Roman Prince disappear, not like that. They’re going to look for him. He’s going to have to make another public appearance.”

“And we have to clean up the rest of the mess.”

“That we’re used to,” Janus sighs, “that I’m not worried about.”

“You’re worried about Roman’s people trying to look for him.” Janus nods. “We’ve got feelers out, we can keep tabs on that.”

“Good.”

Remus spares another glance at the door. “Are you gonna keep him here until then?”

“Yes.”

He lets out a low whistle.

“Go. Get to work.”

“Aye aye, boss.” Remus fixes him with one last look before he disappears out the door.

Janus walks to the bedroom. This time the fond smile crawls across his face unhindered.

“You don’t have to pretend, little prince,” he says as he crosses the room, “if you can’t sleep, you can’t sleep.”

Roman blinks up at him as Janus sits on the edge of the bed. “Sorry.”

“No need for apologies.” He tilts his head to the side. “I never offered you painkillers, are you alright?”

Roman nods.

“Roman,” he asks softly, “why did you come here?”

There’s a pause.

“You said that you remembered me telling you that you could,” he continues, “and that you…trusted me, and yet you seemed surprised that I was—I am willing to help.”

“Still am.”

Remus’s words play in his head again. “You said you remembered what I said—and you be honest with me now,” he says, giving Roman a look, “did you want me to kill you?”

Roman swallows. “I don’t know what I want anymore.”

And oh, Janus has waited so long to hear those words from that pretty mouth but not like this.

He pulls a tissue from the side table and tilts Roman’s head just so to get that last speck of blood, pausing at the way Roman shudders under his touch.

“When was the last time someone touched you,” he asks gently, “before this?”

Roman just shakes his head.

“What is the point,” the snake hisses, “of people pretending to care about you when they don’t give you what you obviously need?”

“You were,” the little prince mumbles, still a beat behind, “I think you were the last person to…to touch me.”

“Before…?”

“Yeah. When we…when you…”

When he had the little prince tied up in the factory downtown, another attempt to persuade him to back off. When he cupped the little prince’s chin in his hand and chuckled as a pretty blush spread across those cheeks. When he let gloved fingers run through his hair and smirked at how easily the little prince lost track of the conversation.

Now, though, Janus cradles the little prince’s face in his hands and lowers himself onto the bed.

“You can have it,” he whispers, running his fingers through the little prince’s hair, “if touch is what you need, you can have it.”

Roman’s eyes flutter, lost on the sensation of Janus’s touch, all but floating on the bed. He starts to curl unconsciously towards him, pliant and still. Janus lets him, moving to wrap his arms around the little prince as he tucks himself under Janus’s chin.

“Why didn’t you tell me,” he asks gently, “that you were hurting so badly?”

He feels the roll of Roman’s throat. “Didn’t want you to think I was any weaker.”

Janus bites back a curse. “Well, I’m afraid you’re about to witness firsthand how weak I am.”

Before Roman can ask what he means, Janus cups the back of his neck and gently, gently kisses his forehead.

“If no one else will do what needs to be done,” he murmurs into Roman’s hair, “then I will.”

If no one else will take care of the little prince that sacrifices so much to protect this city, then the snake is happy to oblige.

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#dragonbabbles #sanders sides #roman sanders #roman angst #janus sanders #deceit sanders #sympathetic deceit #remus sanders #sympathetic remus #agoraphobia #tw agoraphobia #fic

[writing-in-april]

Erotica Explained

Spencer Reid x Female Reader (Spencer’s POV)

Summary: Spencer discovers his girlfriend’s writing.

A/N: Hey Heyyy- this is my twenty-sixth fic for my 30 fics in 30 days for April! It’s based on this request- and I did end up using a small snippet from one of my other fics! Sorry this ones out late too lol had a very difficult day. Feel free to leave me an ask here (I promise I don’t bite) Thanks for reading and hope y’all enjoy!

Warnings: 18+, Smut, Sub!Spencer, Unprotected sex, A little bit of grinding, A little bit of overstimulation, Creampie

Main Masterlist Word Count:1.7k

I don’t use technology often, if I can help it I don’t use it at all. But, I had to use it right now, there was something I needed to look up on the computer. It wasn’t for a case or anything, I was just too curious and too impatient to wait to go to the library.

Because I don’t use technology often at all, I didn’t own a personal laptop. The only one I regularly used was the one I was given at work, and that was done begrudgingly. Though I couldn’t use that one right now as I was at my apartment I shared with my girlfriend. My girlfriend however, happened to have a laptop that she wouldn’t mind me using.

When I opened up her laptop, it was already unlocked with a tab already opened. My eyes unintentionally quickly glazed over the page, my eyes widening as I flitted across the page. It was some sort of story, one that contained things that made me blush. At the end of what was visible without scrolling down it read,

His fingers twitched at his side when you blew cool air onto his length, you sneered again, “If you touch me I’ll stop.”

My own trousers started to grow a little tight after reading that, then confusion made its way into my face, wondering what in the world I was reading. I clicked around, not really knowing what I was doing and I fell into a wormhole of reading. It wasn’t until I glanced up to see who owned the documents it all clicked together. They were my girlfriend’s stories.

They were her stories about a slew of characters that already existed in other media, the first one I had read even happened to be about a Star Wars character- Poe to be specific. Once it all clicked together I slammed the computer shut, feeling like I had invaded her privacy. Then I swiftly got into a cold shower, ready to freeze my arousal and wash off my shame.

—-

My foot was tapping even crazier than normal as I sat next to my girlfriend. We had decided on a night in, choosing to order take out and watch a few movies on a rare night off for me. It was her turn to choose, and unsurprisingly she chose Star Wars.

“What’s wrong?” She asked me when I started to basically vibrate when Poe came onto the screen. I couldn’t keep it in any longer, the guilt was eating me alive sitting here while I watched a constant reminder of what I read.

“I’m sorry-“ She was about to open her mouth to probably ask me why I was apologizing, but I steamrolled over it by ranting, “I looked at your writing- the erotica you write. I- I think it’s about already existing characters? Which I hadn’t heard about before-“

She finally did get a chance to cut me off by calling out my name, getting me to stop my nervous rant, “Are you mad- that I umm am writing about someone who’s not you?”

“No! It’s natural to be attracted to different people even while you’re with someone…” I was already falling down into another rant, this time however I caught myself and found the point I had been looking for, “I actually think it’s kind of hot.”

“Oh yeah?” Her eyebrows had shot up almost high enough that they were up into her hairline. I flushed a little at that, feeling vulnerable under her gaze even though I knew she always kept me safe.

“I- um actually was wondering if you could do to me-“ The words died on my tongue when my eyes met hers again, and just by her eyes I could see that she knew what I wanted. She just wanted me to say it out loud.

“What do you want me to do to you?”

“Wh-hat I read- can you umm-?”

She didn’t let me stumble any longer, cutting off my stuttering, “You want me to do the things you read about to you?”

I nodded vigorously, but that wasn’t enough for her. She leaned forward, grabbing my cheeks between two of her fingers, then prompting me, “Use your words.”

I whimpered at that, remembering seeing it in one of her writings. I learned from the character, who had mouthed off in the fanfic, instead breathily answering, “Yes, I want you to use me like you wrote.”

Soon enough my clothes had been taken off by me as I had to follow her command to ‘strip’. She did so as well, then straddling me, starting immediately to grind on my cock. I moved my hands to her hips to try to get her to do something more, but they were quickly pushed off. She then pinned them above my head, leaning forward to whisper into my lips, “No you don’t get to touch unless I tell you too.”

“Yes, Miss!” I gasped out instantly, wanting to be perfect for her.

“Mmmm good boy.”

That made me keen even more, loving the praise she gave me a dash of, I craved her showering it onto me. She kept her course of action, grinding onto my cock until her own arousal completely soaked it. All it would take was for the head of my cock to notch at my entrance, she was so wet I could slip in easily. But, all I could do was wait until she let me have her. I’m sure if I begged she’d only smirk at me, so I kept my mouth shut and took what I was given.

She finally sunk down onto my cock, though it was excruciatingly slow. I tried to fight my instincts, keeping my hips flush with the couch so I wouldn’t get scolded for moving without permission.

When the backs of her thighs finally hit the tips of mine, I groaned unintentionally. She seemed to love it, starting to buck her hips enthusiastically at my response. My hands balled up into fists, knuckles turning white from how hard I was gripping them. It was taking so much to not cum already, her hands pinning me and how beautiful she looked above me making it overwhelming.

“Awww are you already so close? You love getting used like this don’t you?” She goaded once she realized how much I was fighting my release with my squinted eyes.

It took me a minute to find the words, as all my mind could focus on at the moment was how she felt around me. My IQ was completely slashed to 60, but I did eventually get out, “Yes miss”

She sped up her pace at my words, alternating from grinding down into me hard and bouncing vigorously on top of me. When she lent forward to give me a bruising kiss, she swallowed all the noises I was making, until she dipped her head down to mark up my collarbone. It was all too much; I didn’t know how much longer I could hold on.

“You’re such a good boy for me Spencer.” She gasped above me, writhing on my cock while she continued to bounce. It was getting so hard to bear, especially with more praise, but I wanted to wait until she came. She looked like a goddess, especially just as she was about to cum, which she soon signaled by saying, “Oh god baby, you’re gonna make me cum!”

All I could do was watch as she removed one hand from where they were wrapped around my own to rub circles into her clit. She tipped her head back, mouth dropped open in a moan, and thighs shaking as her orgasm washed over her. She shook above me for a minute, hips stuttering as she tried to continue the pace she built while her orgasm was ripping through her. Once she had come down from her release she then focused on mine, building the pace back up to be even faster than her original one.

“Go ahead and cum baby boy.” With one more swivel of her hips, I fell off the edge at her command, filling her all the way up with my release. She held my hands up above my head still and still moved her hips while I rode out my high. When she stopped her movements once I whimpered loudly out of overstimulation, she finally let go of my hands.

I let myself relax as she slumped over onto me, resting her head onto my still somewhat heaving chest. With my hands once again free I wrapped my arms around her middle, entrapping her this time.

Looking up I then noticed the movie was still going, completely unobstructed by our actions. It was towards the end of the movie already, telling me how long we had been going at it. Though I didn’t care that I missed it, I got to act out a partial storyline from it, even if it was a made up one. The movie could only hold my attention for so long, there was someone far more interesting with me.

“So are you gonna write some with me?” She giggled out while tracing her fingers up and down my chest, lingering over my sternum. Her proposition was an intriguing one for sure, especially now that she explained some of it to me. Though, I think my writing style is more suited for more of an academic setting.

I snorted a little, giggling a little myself, then brushing my hair out of my eyes so I could see them more clearly. When I tipped her chin up with my fingers and their eyes met mine, they were full of mischief. She was definitely trying to get me riled up again, but I had a quip back of my own, “I don’t think I’d be good at it- but maybe you’ll let me read from now on? I wouldn’t mind editing some as well, it sounds fun.”

Ask Me Anything

——

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[vicious-vixxxen]

Kirishima X Male!Reader: Movie Night w/the Bro’s ((18+))

Kirishima was the winner of the poll I started recently, to see who was going to get lewded, so here you guys go ;3 Enjoy!

“What’re you doing? Kirishima asked quietly, honestly curious- bless his heart- as one of your hands found  it’s way over to play with the waist of his shorts, under your shared blanket.  Fingers dipping into the waistband to run along the other boy’s hip gently.  A blush as crimson as your boyfriend’s favorite hero overtaking his cheeks, visible even in the low light of the room, as you shrugged.  “Nothing. Mind your business, movie’s finally getting good.”

“Totally,” Kaminari muttered, spread out like a starfish over a beanbag in front of the two of you, alongside Sero, Bakugou, Ojiro, and Sato. All of the boys cuddled up with various blankets, and pillows; even Bakugou, hoodie drawn over his head, hands stuffed in the pockets as he sat against the coffee table, watching the movie unfold in front of them with a bored expression. You and Kiri commandeered the sofa just before the movie started- couple privileges, you’d claimed, which the other guy’s had groaned about, but couldn’t argue against. Settling themselves in, a few feet away from you, before pressing play. Mistake number one. Mistake number two had been picking a movie you’d already seen, thus ensuring your inevitable boredom. And when you were bored, you got antsy. And when you got antsy, you bothered Kirishima. He was your boyfriend after all, it was sort of one of his jobs to be an endless supply of entertainment. Though your impromptu boredom, paired with the previous weeks grueling training schedule, and Kirishima’s skimpy little workout tank top he’d decided to wear to movie night, culminated in one overarching problem. You were so. Fucking. Horny. The last time you and Kirishima had had any privacy, for any extended amount of time, was over a week ago. The bite marks on your inner thighs had already begun to fade, and try as you might to press on them when you jerked off, to keep them fresh, they were almost gone. You were pent up, and you knew Kirishima was too. If the lingering looks during training, and the hungry gaze he fixed you with in the locker room after was any indication. There’d just been no time, nor privacy, to act on anything. Until tonight. Privacy be damned, you reasoned, entirely with yourself, as you draped yourself across Kirishima’s side early on. Running a hand along his arm, nipping at his ear. Pressing kisses to his neck. But dear god, was your boyfriend thick headed. Too pure for his own good. He wasn’t the smartest when it came to social cues, not initiated by himself of course. He could tell you were bored, that much was clear. But he assumed you’d grow tired of messing with him, and fall asleep or something. He’d happily carry you back to your dorm, he’d done it many times before. But then your hand was in his shorts, palm flat, and warm against his waist, as you settled it there for a few minutes. Your other hand snaking around Kirishima’s waist, and cupping his hip gently. Lips just barely brushing Kirishima’s cheek, as you leaned the both of you back into the cushions. One of your legs swinging over Kirishima’s under the blanket, as you settled in. Half on his lap. Everyone was so preoccupied with the movie, they didn’t hear Kirishima’s soft, needy whine, as he finally realized what you were up to- when the hand in his shorts slid down to cup his cock through his underwear. “Y-Y/N...we...our friends are here,” Kirishima hissed, right next to your ear, though he couldn’t help the hitch in his breath, and the low moan that left his throat, as you began to massage, and stroke his cock through his underwear slowly. Careful of showing any outward movements off through the blanket, in case someone were to glance back. “They’ll never know,” You assured him quietly, pressing a kiss to his nose, before trailing your lips down, to kiss just in the crook of Kiri’s neck. Licking over where you kissed after, before you latched on to suck a hickey into the tender skin just below Eijiro’s ear. Grip tight on your boyfriend's cock as he went to cry out. Quick to cover his lips with yours, you swallowed Kiri’s noises, smiling against his lips as his tongue slid out desperately against yours- and you indulged him. The soft, wet noises of your make out just barely reaching Sero’s ears, who glanced behind himself briefly: rolling his eyes at the two of you, not catching the quickly rising tent between Kirishima’s legs, as he went to turn the volume up another ten or so notches. Completely drowning out your noises. “They making out again?” Bakugou asked gruffly. “Yep.” Sero answered with a huff, popping the P for emphasis, as the other boys groaned, and steeled their expressions forward. “Tch.” Bakugou snorted, shaking his head at his best friend's antics. God, they were so gullible, you thought briefly, as you listened in as best you could over the sounds of the movie, before turning your attention solely back to Kirishima, as you moved back down to suck hickeys into the sensitive skin of his neck. Slipping your hand quickly beneath the fabric of Kiri’s briefs, to take hold of his now throbbing cock. Kirishima gasping into his fist at the contact. “Missed this,” You sighed against his neck, turning your head to look down at where you began to slowly, so, so slowly, stroke Kirishima’s cock below the blanket. The heat, and weight of your boyfriend's cock against your palm causing your mouth to water. “A-Ah! Me t-too! Me too,” Kirishima whined, twitching in his seat as you slid your thumb up and against his weeping tip. Precum bubbling over the head of his cock at a rapid speed, the longer you worked him over. Kirishima’s gaze flickering between you, your hand, and the others in front of the both of you. The thrill of being caught humiliating...but so exciting. What would they say? Your hand down his shorts, palm already so wet from his pre, stroking his cock where anyone could watch. God, they’d call Kirishima desperate. A slut. Can’t even keep it in his pants. And they’d be right. But so were you. If anything, you were a bad influence, because Kirishima never would have initiated this on his own. Though you knew of course, he’d never do anything he wasn’t truly comfortable with. Your communication was top notch between the two of you, and you both found consent incredibly sexy. Even if it was slightly...dubious, at times. You could both always say no, and it would always be respected. But Kirishima simply nodded as you whispered ‘more?’ into his ear, biting his lip to stifle his cries as you pulled the blanket down, the cool air of the room rushing over Kirishima’s hard cock now, as it bobbed openly in the room. Just feet away from your friends. “So hot,” You nearly cried, gripping Kirishima’s cock at the base, shaking it back and forth. Swinging the heft of it around like a bat, before pointing it straight up, and continuing to stroke him. Out in the open- one turned head, and they’d see just how kinky the two of you really were. Kirishima’s fat cock, out and throbbing in your palm- precum dribbling down the side, slicking the way, the longer you edged him. Leaving him to throb openly for a moment, you brought your hand that was around Kirishima’s waist back to take hold of his dick- your wet hand fishing the boy’s heavy balls from his underwear, to roll and massage in your palm. Kirishima’s legs stretched out, as he threw his head back, and bit onto his fist to keep from moaning. Though he couldn’t help the sound that left him when you leaned over his lap, and spit right onto the head of his already wet cock. Thank god the action scene on screen decided to include explosions at that very moment. The rest of your friends cheered at the chaos, as you spat another glob of spit onto Kiri’s cock, stroking him in earnest now, just as Kirishima captured your lips in another heated kiss. Your brain felt fuzzy with heat as he kissed you- tongues swirling together, your hand a wet, tight blur on Kirishima’s cock as you jerked him off. The soft plap plap plap of your fist against the top of his balls all you could hear, over the blood rushing in your ears. You knew it was because you were hyper fixated on the sound, but the thill of imagining the others hearing, and /knowing/ making your own balls draw up tight to the base of your own hard cock, so close to jizzing your jeans it wasn’t even funny. “Gonna cum,” Kirishima whispered against your lips, forehead pressed against yours, as his body tightened- abs hardening as his quirk manifested briefly- Kirishima's hands on your shoulders as you both panted in each other’s faces. Hot breath ghosting your cheeks as you squeezed his balls a little tighter, and ran your thumb along his slit on every upstroke. Taking Kirishima’s bottom lip between your teeth finally did it- Kiri’s grip on your shoulders leaving bruises as he hunched forward, and gasped- cock growing impossibly thicker, as he came. Long, hot, white stripes of cum shooting out all over Kirishima’s chest, and stomach. Eight, nine, /ten/ hefty pumps of hot cum shooting out, before it lessened to a thick dribble down his length, and your knuckles. Searing against your skin, as your own cock gave a valiant throb against the inside of your jeans, and you whined into Kirishima’s throat- your boyfriend catching his breath. You both leaned back, breathing heavily- Kirishima’s cock soft and wet against the front of his shorts, which you quickly helped slip him back into. Patting the front of them with your clean hand gently, before leaning back fully- bringing your cum covered hand up, and glancing briefly to the side at Kiri. His breathing had stopped altogether, as he watched you. “Not gonna let it go to waste,” You chuckled, winking at the redhead, before sticking your tongue out to scoop up the thick globs of cum coating your knuckles. Slurping on each of your fingers, licking in broad strokes across your palm even, as Kirishima watched, still holding his breath. Only when you’d licked off the last little drop of his spunk, did he finally exhale. Tugging you up and onto his lap, so he could bury his face in your chest. Nuzzling between your pecs like a pleased puppy, as you snorted, and did the same in his wild mane of red hair. “Holy- dude! That was so hot!” He whispered heatedly. “Talk about manly, I- nothing will ever top that. Literally /ever/, holy /shit/!” “Wait till next time, i’ll sit on it,” You offered quietly, the air in your lungs expelling quickly as Kirishima hugged you a little too tight, biting down on your neck just this side of rough. “You’re such a menace, oh my god. Who knew my boyfriend was so...so lewd! Jeez…..but is that a promise though?” 

((Reupload, apologies! Tumblr was hiding this one from the tags and some of my followers, so hopefully this helps! <3))

#bnha x male reader #bnha x reader #bnha x y/n #mha x male reader #mha x reader #mha x y/n #Kirishima #eijiro Kirishima #eijiro kirishima x male reader #eijiro kirishima x reader #eijiro kirishima x y/n #kirishima x reader #kirishima x male reader #kirishima x y/n #kirishima imagine #vicious vixxxen

[perksofhs]

‘You know what that does to me’

The missus goes to a show and backstage shenanigans ensue!  (Content warning: smut, but also some fluff! Enjoy! xx) 

Watching him perform was undoubtedly one of your favourite things. Whenever you could you’d be out in the crowd, the energy of the room never failing to lift you up. Harry also fed off the crowd, the buzz he got was addictive, and if you were there he’d always kick it up a notch, looking for you whenever he could just to make sure you were enjoying yourself. He’d catch a glimpse of you swaying your hips to the music and it sent him crazy. 

“Hmm you look good in that suit baby” you hummed, appearing from behind him, wrapping your arms around his torso as he adjusted tonights suit in the mirror. “You should leave a couple buttons undone, I mean I’m sure the fans would love it, as would I” you said, pressing a kiss just below his ear, causing him to close his eyes, leaning further into your touch. You smiled, walking around to face him, unbuttoning the top two buttons of his shirt, exposing the tattoo covered skin beneath. You stood aside to let him take a look in mirror and decide whether to keep it that way, although you pretty much knew he’d do whatever you told him turned you on. “See, much better” you smirked, pecking his lips quickly. At that moment Jeff poked his head in the door “Harry can you quickly come with me and greet some of our guests?” Harry nodded “Be there in a sec” Jeff nodded, going back out into the hallway. Harry turned to you again, before pulling you in for a rather passionate kiss, your hands momentarily finding themselves in his hair. It lasted a few seconds before he reluctantly pulled away “I’ll be back soon ok?” you nodded “Go before Jeff gets annoyed” you chided, giving him a light smack on the bum, sending him towards the door. You laughed a little, shaking your head before walking back out into the green room, taking a seat beside Adam and Clare happily joining into their conversation which mostly revolved around Adam’s kids. It wasn’t long until Harry waltzed back in, walking over to the three of you and sitting himself down next to you on the already pretty cramped couch. 

“I’m squished” you joked, “Come ‘ere” Harry said, grabbing you around the waist and lifting you onto his laps, his arms eventually resting around your hips with his chin on your shoulder. You leant back into him, “hmmm this is nice” you hummed, “I was thinking, after the show, hows about we don’t go out for drinks like usual but we just stay in the hotel room and cuddle and watch a sappy rom-com like usual? I’m feeling pretty tired” you suggested, Harry smiled “That sounds like a great idea babe, haven’t had a movie night in a while, been missing The Notebook a little bit” he smirked as you rolled your eyes “Look I love that movie as much as the next person but i’m pretty sure you’ve made me watch it at least 57 times and I need a break!” you laughed, Harry pouted, trying but failing to guilt you into it, “Stop it, we’re watching The Proposal and that’s that” you pecked his still pouty lips “Ok I guess I can deal with that” he sighed, pinching your hip hard enough to make you flinch. “10 minutes to showtime guys, lets go!” the tour manager announced and everyone clambered to their feet, Harry picking you up and setting you down in the process. He grabbed your hand leading you out the door towards the backstage area, stopping right at the stairs behind the stage. You could hear the crowd humming with excitement, the energy in the room electrified. “You better rock the shit out of this place tonight” you said, unbuttoning one more button “For good luck” you winked, Harry smirked, leaning down to place a kiss on your lips, this kiss was a little deeper than the usual pre-show kiss and you knew it would be one of those shows, one where he’d show off just for you. “Have fun out there, I’ll be watching” you said, giving him one last peck before walking out into arena. 

You made your way to your usual seat next to the sound and lighting crew beside B stage, the crowd cheering for you, which is something that you still barely comprehended even though you’ve been with Harry for 4 years. The lights went down and the crowd went wild, ear piercing screams filled the space as the opening notes of Only Angel rang through the arena. A minute later Harry strutted his way onto the stage, the screams intensifying as he confidently walked from one side of the stage to the other, waving and blowing kisses before the beat dropped and he got into the music. You watched him dance across the stage, enjoying every minute of it. You swayed your hips to the music, screaming the lyrics along with the crowd, earning you a few weird glances from the crew who thought it was hilarious. A group of fans to your right waved you over a few songs into the set wanting a picture and a chat. You honestly loved talking to the fans, almost all of them were incredibly friendly and supportive of your husband which is all you really cared about. You ended up standing near them for a couple of songs until there was a chatty break in the music “Lovely meeting you guys, I’m gonna go back over to my usual spot otherwise he’ll get mad” you joked “But hey how about during the encore break you three follow me backstage to say hi quickly?” the three girls squealed with glee, nodded and thanking you profusely, “Are you serious? Omg thank you so much!” one of them screamed “I’ll come back over and you can follow me back ok? See you soon!” you said, the girls nodding frantically, before giving them a wave and wandering back to your usual spot. 

“Have we got any birthdays in the house tonight?” Harry said, searching the crowd for anyone with a hand up landing on one girl a few rows behind the pit having a quick conversation with her before getting the crowd to sing happy birthday at the top of their lungs. “So my wife’s here tonight, she flew in yesterday to surprise me, what a gem hey?” he said, his accent getting thicker at the end, you smiled, blowing him a kiss which he pretended to catch and put in his pocket causing the crowd to ‘aww’ and you to laugh. “God I’m romantic” he proclaimed, narcissistic Harry making an appearance, you rolled your eyes and smiled “Hey I saw that” he laughed “She’s back there rolling her eyes, how rude! First you won’t let me watch The Notebook now this?!” the crowd laughed, a few joking boos mixed in “Hey hey hey we don’t boo people in this room! It’s only love in this room! Spread the love people!” he yelled and the crowd cheered. You could’t help but smile, the room really was filled with only love and it was all because of him. 

The show continued, you watched him perform to the entirely enamoured crowd that couldn't focus on anything but him, his movements and his voice. Soon enough Sign of The Times started following Harrys usual spiel about how the encore works then getting everyone to bring out their torches and light the arena up, it had to be on of his favourite moments from every show. You walked over to the group of fans from before, “Hey girls you ready? We’ll make our way backstage now and you can say hello when he comes back!” you laughed as they squealed before collecting their things and following you around to the front of the arena, a few fans giving you a wave along the way. Security let you through and you stood just near the bottom of the stairs behind the stage chatting as SOTT came to an end and the lights went out before your husband came bounding down the stairs, locking eyes with you immediately before engulfing you in a rather sweaty hug. “Ew you’re sweaty!” you jokingly tried to escape the hug, a pout on his lips as you wriggled free. “I met a few people who’d like to say hello” you said, introducing the girls to Harry, watching as he gave each of them a hug, apologising for being a little gross but of course they didn’t care. He took a quick group photo with the three of them before security led them back out into the arena, leaving just you and him alone. You wrapped your arms around his neck “You look so good tonight baby” you whispered into his ear, his hands lowering to just above your bum, causing you to move a little closer, entangling your hands in his hair, tugging ever so slightly. “Baby, stop it, you know what that does to me” he moaned, biting his lip, trying to hold himself together knowing that in just about 30 seconds he’d be back on stage and he didn’t want to give anything away. “Sorry babe, I can’t help it, watching you on stage gets me all riled up and you know it so really it’s your fault” you said, hands still not leaving his sweaty hair. “20 seconds Harry!” one of stage hands called, he nodded in response, pressing a quick kiss to your lips, pulling away with a “See you soon babe” before running back up the steps and back onto the stage, another roar from the crowd filling the arena. He knew how to keep you going even if he wasn’t touching you and you both loved and hated it. 

You wandered back out, choosing to watch the last 3 songs from the back of the left GA. The Chain was always one of your favourite songs, part of the reason Harry had added it to the setlist, and if you were at a show he’d use the song to tease you, and boy did it. Tonights performance riled you up more than usual, you were growing more and more impatient with ever thrust of his hips towards the mic stand, the subtle smirks directed at only you scattered throughout the performance and by the time Kiwi came on you were hot and flustered, and Harry could tell. ‘I hate you’ you mouthed, Harry’s brow furrowing in mock confusion, he was completely aware of what he was doing and he loved it. During Kiwi you watched on, trying not to show how you were feeling because you new he was enjoying watching you squirm. You decided to leave towards the end of Kiwi, making sure he saw you walk out, looking back with a smirk on your face. You could hear Kiwi end as you walked down the hallway towards the dressing room, and the final roar of the crowd as Harry exited the stage. 

Within a matter of seconds Harry ran up behind you, grabbing your hand pulling you into a small empty dressing room and locking the door behind him. “Someones impatient” you teased, wrapping your arms around his neck, crashing your lips onto his, his arms tightly around your waist, lifting you off the ground, carrying you towards the couch. You pulled away, lying back on the small couch, your fingers fumbling with the buttons on his shirt “See I told you keeping it unbuttoned would have been much better, and easier” you joked, pecking his lips before removing the sweaty shirt, throwing it somewhere across the room. “Didn’t want to make you too flustered” and with that, his hands were puling your t-shirt over your head before trying to unclasp your bra, as your own needy hands unbuttoned his trousers. You struggle just a bit to get his pants down his sweaty thighs just far enough to allow you the access you so desperately crave. Harry groans as you play with the hem of his underwear, your lips never leaving each others during this whole process. “Stop teasing.. me..” Harry pants, finally getting the your bra off and flinging it somewhere behind him and hastily freeing you of your jeans and panties in one swift movement. You smirk into the kiss, you loved teasing him just a little. You relish for one last second in the tease before pushing his boxer briefs all the way down every so slowly. He moaned under your touch as you grazed your fingers back up his thigh before giving him an agonising slow pump that sent him fucking wild. “I told you to stop teasing” he growls, grabbing both yoru wrists and placing them above your head. He’s now in full control. 

“Now keep your hands there ok?” He instructs, staring deep into your eyes, sweat dripping down his cheeks. You bite your lip and nod your head, knowing that simple bite of the lip would send him even further. “Fuck you are beautiful” he says, before trailing his hands down your torso, your breathing getting heavier, before he reaches the spot where you need him the most. He delicately rubs the bundle of nerves as you bite your lip even hard trying to stifle a moan but failing miserably. “You like that huh?” he says, knowing exactly what he is doing. He lifts his fingers up to his mouth, taking two of his fingers in one by one before tracing them along your inner thigh, find their way to where you needed them. You were squirming, the craving almost unbearable. “Please Harry, I need y-ugh” before you could finish he slipped two fingers in. Pumping at a fast pace, your walls tightening around his fingers to exntend the pleasure, an endless string of moans coming from your mouth as you got closer and closer. He went deeper and deeper before hitting the spot. you writhed under his touch, bucking your hips up to get him to go even deeper. Your moans became more desperate as you tipped over the edge, reaching your high. “Good baby, I wanna see you let go, fuck you’re so beautiful” he encourages you to finish and you obey, your body tingling as you hit the orgasm you had been so desperately craving. “Good girl, good girl” he pulls his fingers out, now dripping in you. 

“I love you Harry” you pant, still coming down off the first high. Although you were satisfied, all you wanted to do was keep going. You grabbed his hand, putting his fingers in your mouth, sucking on them ever so gently. Yet another thing you knew sends him fucking crazy. You released his fingers, reaching up to grab his face, you crash your lips back on his, enjoying the taste of each other, as you kissed you reahed down to stroke him, he was stiff and ready. “You’re eager tonight aren’t you baby” he says, you can only hum in response, already coming back up to another high. “I need you Harry, all of you” and with that, he pumps himself twice before pushing himself in. You stretch around him, his length filling you, going impossibly deep. He thrusts hard and fast, desperately trying to hit his peak. Your lips separate, the movement too much as your head falls back, both of you moaning in absolute pleasure. “Fuck! Fuck Harry.. ughhh” you’re almost screaming as he continues to push deeper. You can tell he’s getting there, and he can tell you are too. Your moans get louder and louder, both of you panting as you reach your climaxes simultaneously. there is no doubt that anyone walking past could hear you, but both of you were so lost in the moment that neither of you cared. You buck your hips, desperately trying to hit your peak as he speeds up trying to do the same, you both hit your highs, releasing together. The euphoria of the orgasm washing over both of you. His thrusts slow and become sloppy, his eyes closed, a grin now adorning is lips. 

As you both come down, you relax into each other. As he slows, Harry’s body becomes heavy on top of yours, and you both sink into the couch. Your breaths steadying as he rests his head on your bare chest, his hand lazily rubbing at your exposed breast. “That was.. incredible” he says, and it was true. Post show sex was always the most fun. “Worth the wait?” you tease, a smirk on your lips and a cheesy grin on his, “definitely worth the wait. Although you really are a tease sometimes”. You chuckle “You actually love it though, I know you do”. You both remain there, satisfied, happy and more than a little bit sweaty. 

“I suppose we should go back out and see people huh? I have a feeling someone may be looking for us” Harry says, even though he would rather just stay in this moment. “Harry I’m pretty sure they know where we are, we weren;t very subtle, or quiet!” you giggle at the thought of everyone hearing what has just occurred but you honestly couldnt care less. “Thats true, but either way we should probably get up” he says, pushing himself up from the small couch, pulling you up with him as he goes. You two really were a sight to behold. Both of you naked, hair dishevled, sweat glistening on both of your skins. Even if they hadn’t have heard you, they’ll for sure be able to tell.

You both relcutantly get dressed, albiet with Harry’s suit looked more than a little messy, sneaking one last kiss before you unlock the door and head back to his dressing room. You pass a few people in the hallway, a pleasant smile and a few hellos before you both walk into the fairly busy dressing room. As you both enter, a few knowing glances are sent your way, your cheeks flush red while Harry smirks, relishing in what you;re sure he see;s as an accomplishment. You giggle and hide your face in his side as you both take a seat on the yet again crowded couch. “You two look a bit.. flustered” Jeff says, your cheeks glowing red again in embarassment before the group all start laughing, you and Harry chuckling along with them. Oh what a night it has been!

Hey lovelies! Two in one night! This is yet another installment of “The Words You Speak” series. I rarely write raucnhy content, I think this is only the second one I’ve ever properly written! It;s been sat in my drafts for quite a while but I though I may as well post it! As usual, requests are open so let me know what you want to read! Enjoy xxx 

#imagine harry styles #harry styles #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #harry styles imagine #harry edward styles #harry #harry styles oneshot #harry styles fic #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #one direction

[ri-ahhh]

cake for dessert

Grayson wants a slice of MJ for dessert on a rainy day

4.8k

warnings: badly written smut

A/N: one of the MJ things I promised to upload. It’s storming like crazy here and this is all I want in life rn so I figured this was the one to post.

***

A chilly spring rain has descended over LA out of nowhere, as MJ discovers with surprise when she and her best friend Lainey step out of their final store at The Grove. That Saturday had started off warm and sunny, a perfect weekend day to spend out and about, but the storm rolling in is suddenly derailing her and Lainey’s plans for a chill afternoon at the beach.

“Well, shit,” Lainey remarks, glancing up at the dark clouds looming in the not-so-distant skyline.

“Right?” MJ concurs. She scrunches her nose and watches Lainey pout as they consider what else they might do with their Saturday. With MJ still busy working hard at her new job and, admittedly, being wrapped up in the fading newness of Grayson, she and Lainey haven't had much time to spend together. Especially considering her friend’s own relationship and hectic schedule.

A fat raindrop surprises her by landing on her nose, and both of them giggle as the sudden light sprinkle becomes more steady. They hurry down the walkway to the parking garage until they find MJ’s car, hurrying inside and slamming the doors just in time for the rain to start really coming down.

“Looks like we’re going home, unless you want to fight the LA drivers who have no idea what they're doing in the rain to go to a movie or something,” MJ jokes, selecting her favorite rainy day playlist full of Tame Impala, Bon Iver, Rex Orange County, and the like to serenade them on the way back to her apartment.

Lainey laughs. She’s also from out of state and shares MJ’s anecdotal opinion of the LA natives. “Yeah, as much as I want to stay and cuddle and feed each other takeout, I think for that reason I’m gonna have to head out when we get to your place. It’ll take me an extra hour to get home because of this.”

Now it’s MJ’s turn to playfully but also somewhat seriously jut out her lower lip in an impression of Lainey’s earlier pout. “Who’s gonna dangle pad Thai noodles into my mouth, then?”

“I don’t know, babe. Don’t you have a boyfriend or something now?” Lainey smirks, snatching MJ’s phone from her lap and waving it in her face so her lock screen illuminates, an accidental candid she had captured of said boyfriend with that beautiful smile shining right at her.

“It’s not the same,” whines MJ, entering the rapidly congesting highway. “First of all, he’s busy most of the day. Second, he makes it sexy, whereas you’re just plain cute. I don’t think I’m in the mood to be sexy today.”

That was true, for sure. Her outfit consisted of a pair of black leggings, one of Gray’s t-shirts that hung off her body shapelessly, and a baseball cap to hide the fact that she wore no makeup. Between her stuffy nose from the cold she’s fighting and the lack of sleep from the night before, she couldn’t be bothered that morning to try any harder.

Lainey, who had been listening while checking the visor mirror to see if her mascara had survived the rain, feigns offense. “Wow, bitch, are you saying I’m not sexy?”

“Boo, you’re sooo sexy. Grayson should probably thank you for half of my skills based on your tips over the years, now that I think about it,” MJ grins, causing Lainey to cackle.

Their girl talk continues the rest of the surprisingly short car ride back to MJ’s apartment building. MJ pulls up behind Lainey’s car and hugs her bestie over the console.

“Love you. Text me when you’re home so I know you survived the drive.”

“Will do. Love you, babe.”

MJ makes sure Lainey is in her car before driving into her covered spot. The tiredness had been real before, but the pure exhaustion hit her out of nowhere as her mind processes that she’s now home. She’s suddenly looking forward to nothing more than ordering said takeout, soaking in a too-hot bath, and watching The Hobbit series all afternoon.

She shuts the door to her apartment behind her with a sigh and trudges into her room, tossing her bags on her bed. Desperate to start the second half of her day of relaxation, it takes her all of 30 seconds to strip down and make her way into the bathroom. As the soaking tub fills, she selects a Lush bath bomb and bubble bar from the basket on the counter.

With a last-minute face mask applied, hair piled on top of her head to keep it dry, and New Girl ready to play on her phone, she’s just settling into the water with a light moan when the phone begins buzzing on the ledge of her soaking tub. She dries her hands and smiles when she sees Grayson’s name on the FaceTime call.

“Hi, baby,” she answers once his handsome face fills the screen, scooping some of the foamy bubbles closer to her chest so they fluff out cloud-like from her skin.

Grayson grins and takes a second to admire at her. “Hi, sweetheart. You look so fucking cute.”

MJ rolls her eyes but flushes and smiles appreciatively. “If you say so. How’s filming going?”

He puffs his cheeks and blows out the air slowly, running a hand through his hair. “Good, but it’s been a long day. E and I both decided to call it quits early; we’re both way too strung out on no sleep and anxiety to get much else done, especially now that the weather’s gone to shit.”

“I’m sorry, Bear, I know you both wanted to get everything wrapped tonight,” she laments with him, wishing she could comfort him with a kiss to his plump pink lips. “I’m kind of in the same boat. Lainey and I couldn't go to the beach, and between this cold I have and the fact it’s getting harder and harder to sleep without you, I’m so tired.”

Grayson smiles at her in that way he reserves only for her — soft, crooked, his hazel eyes sparkling in the center and crinkling just the tiniest bit at the corners — especially at the sound of her little pet name for him.

“Can I come over? I’ve been thinking about you all day, but I didn't want to cut into your time with Lainey. I just need to be with you.”

“Yes please,” MJ agrees with a sniffle. “As long as you’re the big spoon while we have a couch day. That’s about all I’m gonna be good for today, I think.”

“Of course,” he grins, getting into his car. “Are you gonna be my little cuddle bug all afternoon, Peach?”

She hears an exasperated ‘oh my God’ in the background and can practically see Ethan’s eye-roll out of frame.

“Yeah,” she coos back to her boyfriend, then, “hi, E.”

“Hi, MJ,” he grunts. As she’s naked underneath the clouds of bubbles, Grayson doesn’t angle the phone towards his brother, but she can still hear his voice. “You know, he’s already a cornball most of the time, but you really bring it out of him in droves, dude.”

Grayson doesn’t even react to Ethan, his gaze fixated instead on MJ through the phone. “Good. I sleep better with you in my arms, too.”

“Ugh,” Ethan complains. “Where are my fucking AirPods?”

She does, indeed, hear rustling, presumably from the older twin, but she chooses to ignore him as well. “Can you pick up Thai or Veggie Grill or something on your way over?”

“Oooh, yeah, either of those sound awesome. I’m starving,” Grayson agrees. “I’ll have to drop E off at home first and hopefully traffic wont be too bad both ways. Be there in an hour?”

“Sounds good. Thank you, baby,” she says quietly with a sweet, content smile.

He winks at her, and his voice drops a couple of notches. “No problem, Peach. As long as you’re my dessert.”

Her body rushes with heat, and not from the temperature of the water she’s soaking in. Before she can answer, Ethan groans louder than ever.

“Oh my God, dude, I fucking heard that! Can you keep your cheesy sex talk at zero while we’re literally right next to each other?” His voice suddenly picks up even louder so she can hear him. “MJ, I can’t believe you still let him fuck you when he says shit like that.”

“He makes up for it with the other things his mouth can do,” she retorts, winking at Grayson. Her giggles join Grayson’s howls of laughter and taunts at his brother, who apparently is very much done with the conversation. “Alright, I love you both. Drive safe, please.”

True to his word, Grayson shows up a little over an hour later with a bag of Veggie Grill in one hand and a Starbucks medicine ball in the other. MJ absolutely despises hot tea, and he knows it, but he also knows she won’t be able to resist the soothing warmth of it — especially considering he took the time and effort to get it for her.

He smiles at the sight of her cocooned in the plush, cozy fabric of her favorite blanket and leans down to give her a quick kiss. He hands her the drink, which she does indeed accept with warm eyes and a soft heart. She takes a sip and lets the hot liquid coat her scratchy throat as he plops down next to her with a sigh and sets the food on her coffee table. Grayson cups her cheeks to draw her in for another kiss — lingering, closed-mouthed pecks this time.

“Hi,” he says, smiling and dropping one to her red-tipped nose for good measure.

“Hi,” she whispers, her voice hoarse from mouth-breathing more and more throughout the afternoon. “Sorry I look so gross. This cold is kicking my ass the later it gets. You’re probably going to catch it.”

“First of all: worth it. Second: are you kidding? This is my favorite MJ,” he assures, peppering little kisses all across her forehead as he draws her in to his chest. Her hair is in the same messy bun from her bath, her glasses are on, and she’s dressed in her old college crewneck sweatshirt, boy-short Calvins, and fuzzy socks… “No one gets to see you like this except me. All fresh-faced and beautiful and undone. All mine.”

“Mmm,” MJ hums, snuggling into him and sniffling. “We’ll see how you feel when I’m snoring like a 300 pound grandpa in a little bit because I can’t breathe out of my nose.”

“Okay, but I don’t see how that’ll be different from any other night.” She draws back and smacks him on the arm playfully, scoffing incredulously. He just barks out a laugh and kisses the frown off her lips before distributing their late lunch between them.

They make comfortable small talk while The Office plays quietly in the background, mixing with the patter of rain on the large windows. A fuzzy warm ball settles in the pit of her stomach that has her feeling almost heady at the simple intimacy of the moment.

MJ finishes first. She takes off her glasses and places them on the coffee table next to her tea so she can curl into a ball and nuzzle into Gray’s shoulder. He kisses the top of her head affectionately and finishes his meal in silence while they watch the antics of Michael Scott and gang for the millionth time. Eventually his empty plate joins hers and he opens his burly arms to gather her in his embrace, lying down and bringing her with him.

Grayson chuckles when she fully climbs on top of him so she’s straddling his hips and hugging him with all of her limbs like a koala would a tree, her nose buried into the five o’clock shadow on his neck. He makes sweeping passes up and down her back. “Needy today, sweetheart?”

“A little,” MJ mumbles, eyelids already feeling heavy, even more so when he fixes the oversized blanket around the both of them. He smells so good, feels so solid and warm, his breath tickling her ear soothingly. They FaceTime every day, but their crazy lives have made it where this is the first time in days that they’ve seen each other in person. “Missed you. We both work too much.”

He lets out a little hum of agreement, sighing when he feels her lips pucker to dot baby kisses on his bronze skin. His hands stroke up and down her back comfortingly. “I missed you, too. E and I should have just one more day of shooting before we’ll be home more to work on editing and stuff with the team.”

“I’ll be in Seattle most of next week for a new client recruit,” she reminds, recognizing the inexplicit invitation. “Otherwise I’d come over and work remote with you.”

“Ugh, that’s right,” Gray laments, sighing. “Kiss me. Please?”

MJ gives him a lazy smile when she feels his fingers tilt her chin up. Their makeout is slow and simple and just what the both need, reconnecting after days and lives apart.

A few minutes go by until MJ groans a little and sits up in his lap with a sigh, a string of saliva connecting their lips before breaking with a snap.

“I can’t breathe laying down like that. Or just out of my nose,” she pouts. One of her hands plays with his hair while the other smooths down his t-shirt over his chest where she had rumpled it by laying on him.

Grayson grips her hips and follows her up, hugging her tightly around the middle with those huge, burly arms. “Since you can’t sleep anyways…” he looks at her, and she cocks an eyebrow, her lips quirking questioningly. “Can I have my dessert now? You can sit up on the couch. And no mouth-to-mouth required.”

MJ chuckles and wraps her arms around his broad shoulders, biting her lip as she considers his request. As much as she wants Grayson in any capacity most of the time, today is one of those days where sex just isn't on the table for her.

That being said, can she really resist that tongue? Those lips?

Before she can answer, he continues. “I know you don’t feel good, so I’ll understand if you just aren't up for anything today. But I’m not expecting you to reciprocate at all. I’ve just been wanting… like, basically needing to eat your pussy all week. It’s all I’ve been able to think about for so days.” He traces her jawline with his nose until his lips reach that little spot right behind the hinge and just below her ear, where he licks and nibbles until her hips start shifting in his lap of their own accord. “Please?”

Well, how the fuck is she going to say no to that?

She can’t, and knows he can sense her giving in when he starts to turn them around so she’s reclined against the back of the couch. Grayson grins while he arranges the blankets and pillows around her to get her as comfy as possible.

She watches him fuss over her with loving eyes, but wants to make sure he really is okay with the arrangement, too. “Are you sure? I don’t want to blue ball you. And I can speak from experience that that rug isn't a fun place to be on your knees for an extended period of time.”

Gray smirks at her and plants one more kiss to her lips before sinking down her body, snatching a couple of stray pillows to cushion his knees. “One problem solved. And don't worry about any chance of blue balls; it’s been way too fucking long since I’ve done this, and I’ll be lucky if I don't cum in my pants before I even get you to your first one.”

“Oh, so I’m in for more than one orgasm today?” MJ smiles back down at him and lifts her hips so he can drag her panties down her toned legs, placing her feet on the edge of the couch so she’s nice and open for him once he had the fabric tossed behind him somewhere. “I’d say that was big talk if I didn't know you could back it up.”

She knows he likes a challenge, and combined with his love for being praised and her bare pussy exposed to him at long last, she feels like she’s got a little bit of an upper hand here.

“Always,” he murmurs.

His lips start at the inside of her knee, working their way up to her inner thigh, across her mound to nuzzle in the little patch of hair she hadn't bothered to trim down between waxes, before trekking down the opposite leg. MJ knows his goal is to build up the anticipation for them both, and he’s succeeding; she can hear his breathing intensify as he tries to take in her scent, and she can feel the wetness beginning to leak out of her without so much as a lick from him.

Finally, he brings his hand up to trace her smooth lower lips, glancing up at her with warm yet lustful eyes as he takes in how his teasing is affecting her. MJ gives it right back, sneaking a hand under her oversized sweatshirt to play with her breast. It drives him absolutely crazy seeing her touch herself, but also not being able to see. If she didn't know any better, she would say sometimes he was more obsessed with her boobs than her actual vagina when they get down.

When his eyes turn dark, she grins and uses her free hand to rake through his hair and pull him towards her pussy while simultaneously pinching her nipple just the way she likes. Grayson growls and turns his attention back where she’s directing him, finally parting her with his middle and index fingers to expose her clit. He places a quick kiss directly to it, causing MJ to gasp and grip his dark locks tighter.

He gives it a more sensual smooch and pulls back to watch more of her juices trickle out of her until he can’t resist really getting to work anymore. His moan vibrates against her when his tongue swipes through the sweet wetness, trailing it to her clit with his mouth and giving the nub a gentle suckle before slipping his tongue back to her entrance. MJ lets out little whimpers of bliss as he makes out with her pussy, his tongue reaching as far inside her as it can, wiggling around and slurping down everything that comes out of her.

She lets him eat her out with no real purpose, thoroughly enjoying the constant stimulus of his lips and teeth and tongue without a driving need to make her cum behind it. Her hands flit between stroking his hair comfortingly, to playing with her breasts, to digging her nails across his clothed shoulders.

“Feels so good,” MJ whispers while she watches him work. Her fingers are combing gently through his hair once again to push the dark strands off of his forehead just in time to see his eyes flit open to meet her own.

“Tastes so good,” Grayson growls back, taking a moment to sit on his haunches and get a thorough look at her spread out for him. Her pussy is swollen and wet, the insides of her thighs bare the faint markings of his teeth, and her face is pure bliss even as she sniffs and coughs a bit. “You okay?”

MJ nods. It’s sweet of him to check, but all she wants now is his face back in her pussy. She bites her lip and one of her heels, still clad in a fuzzy sock, digs into the middle of his broad back to push him in. Grayson smirks darkly and follows her lead, his lips immediately suctioning around her plump little clit.

“Fuck…” MJ moans. Her voice is raspier than usual and, like everything else about her today, goes straight to his dick, which throbs untouched in his grey sweats.

He starts working her over with purpose now, determined to get her to cum in the next 30 seconds. He knows he can do it even if she hadn't started chanting, “like that, like that, don’t fucking stop…”

Her moans reach peak levels, as loud as she can be with her sore throat, and her clit throbs on his tongue. Her back arches off the couch and her hands dive fully in his thick hair now to hold him to her, her heel still pressing against his spine doing the same.

Grayson groans and has to remove one of his hands from her hips to reach into his boxers and squeeze his dick hard enough to stave off his own orgasm. He slips two fingers of his other hand in her dripping pussy to give her something to clench around, which doesn’t help his attempt at not cumming literally in his pants when he feels her walls gripping his digits like a vice.

“Baby…” she whines as he brings her down with little kitten licks on her pulsing clit, her thighs quivering around his head. Grayson hums and nuzzles into that delicate skin until the muscles beneath stop trembling, and the flutters around his middle and ring fingers have ceased. He never takes his eyes off her face — eyes closed, mouth agape, cheeks flushed. Beautiful and dismantled because of him.

Once he feels she (and, frankly, he himself) have calmed just enough to be able to take more, he starts to press and curl the fingers inside her. MJ whines softly as the build picks up again, which turns into shrieking when he wraps his swollen lips around her clit again and sucks the nub sharply into his mouth. Between the sloppy wetness of his mouth and the way he applies pressure just right on her g-spot, it takes all of a minute for her to fall apart again. She marvels, not for the first time, at how fucking good he is at this, how well he knows her body.

‘Always’ is right.

Grayson sits back, removes his hand and mouth from her and growls at the sight before him while he pushes against the backs of her thighs. So much for sitting up, as she’s now practically on her back, but neither of them are complaining or stopping to readjust. She’s perfectly exposed for him, her juices and his saliva coating her skin and dripping down her ass, she’s that wet.

“MJ…”

Her name escaping his lips in that husky voice finally gets her to lazily blink her eyes open until her gaze focuses on him as clearly as she can. He looks sexy as fuck on his knees for her, pupils dilated and the stubbled skin of his chin and jaw covered in shiny wetness.

Grayson’s big hands knead the insides of her thighs until he’s confident he has her full attention. He smoothes his palms to the crooks of her knees, moving her gently until she’s practically folded in half, and without breaking eye contact shifts his head that much further down so he can go to town on her even lower.

MJ gasps and shoots one of her hands to his hair, her first instinct being to push him away, until half a second passes and she’s doing the exact opposite. No one has ever done this for her before, and now she’s wondering how she had gone so long without the sensation of his tongue swiping up her cum from that virtually untouched hole.

If she was in any right state, she would have seen Grayson’s smug, quite literally ass eating smirk at her reaction to his ministrations. He isn’t sure why in their nearly eight months together he had never eaten her ass before; it isn’t the first time he’s done it to a girl. Maybe because he treasures sex with MJ more than anyone in his life before, maybe knowing in his heart that they have a long future of making love ahead of them had caused him to wait. What he does know, is that he’ll never be able to resist doing it again when the desire to rises, especially given her voracious response to it.

“Fuck!” MJ wails when he spreads her even more open with his hand so he can have better access, his tongue rimming and prodding her asshole to perfection while the thumb of his free hand presses upward on the hood of her clit. He knows her so well, can sense she’s too sensitive for direct stimulation there, but the pressure right above the bundle of nerves is exactly what she’s craving without her even realizing it.

But he does, and it feels so good — too good; Grayson’s eyes drop closed as he lets her taste and sounds overcome his senses, and it’s like her pleasure is his as his hand finally begins to jerk himself off. He builds up the speed of his strokes with her increased pace of breath, until she cums for a third time, and his tongue is quickly swiping all the way up her crease, from asshole to clit as he stands to his feet. He leans over her with one hand on the back of the couch and licks the last of her off his lips as he takes in her body to fuel him even more, even as clothed as she still is.

MJ starts to come-to enough to realize what he needs, and lifts her shirt to expose more skin to him. She drinks in the sight of her gorgeous boyfriend towering over her with his sweats and boxer briefs pushed down just enough for his equally beautiful dick to be out while he strokes the head aggressively. He’s about to explode and she knows it, just as attuned to his body’s tells as he is with hers.

His face is hovering just above hers, and she watches his mouth drop and his eyes train on her exposed skin. MJ bites her lip and whines, pulling roughly on her nipples while her eyes flit between his face and his cock. “Cum on my pussy, baby, I want it — want your cum all over me, make it your pussy…”

She’s rambling, but it’s all he needed as a deep, relieved groan escapes him, followed by soft grunts as he shoots all over her, exactly where she told him to and then some. MJ moans quietly and knocks his hand out of the way to finish him off herself, squeezing the last drops of the pearly white from him. The fingers of her other hand collect what she can from her skin to keep it from dripping on the couch, spreading it instead over her swollen lower lips.

His chest still heaves when she looks up at him with a tired smile, which he matches with a laugh when her final stroke makes him flinch. He pushes her hand off his cock and tells her, “Don’t move.”

She obeys, and watches him lean over to grab his phone off the side table, unlocking it and swiping up. “Is this okay?” he asks, motioning with his head. “This is too fucking sexy. Need a memento while you’re out of town.”

MJ giggles and nods, spreading her legs a little more as he goes to town. She does her best to coat her pussy in his cum, her long, glittering manicured nails adding a certain aesthetic to the shots. She even scoops some up and let him capture her sucking it off her middle finger.

Grayson smiles tiredly and kisses her sweetly, the gentleness and simplicity of it a little stark after the pure filth of the last twenty minutes. He tucks himself back in his pants and goes into her bathroom to get a wet rag to clean her up with, chucking it in the washer when he’s done. On his way back over to her, he picks up her long-forgotten panties off the middle of the living room floor with a smirk and hands them to her, plopping next to her and dragging her into his lap once they’re back on her body.

“I’m gonna have to insist on you having dessert every day,” she yawns into his chest with a sniffle. “I didn't know you liked cake so much.”

Grayson laughs and squeezes her tight to him, placing a lingering kiss on her forehead as he confirms to Netflix that, yes, they are indeed still watching. “And Ethan says I’m the cornball.”

“If he only knew.”

#idk if i like this or not #but it is what it is #hope its okay #dolan twins #grayson dolan #ethan dolan #smut #grayson mj

[alolowrites]

Comforting Words

Summary: You return to the U.A. dorms following a disastrous date. Surprisingly Bakugou offers some “comforting words” to you.

Author’s note: As promised, here is the story to celebrate reaching 100 followers!!! Thank you all so much for this! Story is kinda a sequel to “Laundry Night” (idk) ??? Either way, it just seemed fitting to share another Bakugou story to mark such an occasion.

Enjoy!

~~~

I’m so stupid, stupid, stupid!

You figuratively and literally slapped yourself as you marched to your dorm building at like 10:35pm on a Saturday night. Marching to the shared kitchen, you carelessly threw your ice cream pint onto the counter. As you rummaged through the drawers, a growl escaped your mouth when you couldn’t find one spoon. Any other day you would see spoons left and right, yet they magically disappeared when you needed them the most.  

Searching through the billions of utensils in the drawer, you finally found the main prize. Your attention went to the ice cream pint and your fingers furiously tugged on the lid to no avail. Now you were on the verge to punch someone. Why was the universe being so cruel? Did you accidentally piss them off? Are they having some mood swing, because honey this ain’t it.

Why won’t you open?!

“Are you really so pathetic that you can’t open the flimsy ice cream cover?”

You stopped struggling and slammed both your hands against the counter. Closing your eyes, you breathed through your nostrils to calm yourself. Bakugou saw your back and the harsh glare peering over it.

“I’m not in the mood, Bakugou,” you snarled at him. “If you want to insult me, give me two to three business days.”

“Should I send a Google calendar invite to remind you?” He mocked.

Of course he threw that at you.

A piece of hair fell over your eyes and you blew it away. Grabbing the cold pint, you spun around to face your tormentor. Bakugou leaned against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest and wore his favorite black shirt.

It was also your favorite shirt. The fabric shamelessly emphasized his Spartan-like muscles as a result of his vigorous training. Feeling your eyes rake at his tone arms, you mentally forced some self-control. You never wanted to give this buffoon the satisfaction that you admired his top-notch physique.

No…you would never hear the end of it from him. So to save face, you diverted your eyes back to the ice cream pint freezing your hand and frowned.

Stupid hormones.

Without looking up, you asked: “Why are you here?”

“You were being too loud,” Bakugou complained. You barked out a dry laugh while snapping your head up.

“I’m being to loud!?” You pointed to yourself with eyebrows raised. “That’s rich coming from you, Mr. DIE-DIE-DIE! I’m surprised you’re not croaking like a dying frog.”

He ignored your comment. “You’re upset, what the hell happened?”

“Why do you care?” You shot back at him.

“Answer the fucking question, idiot, I’m not asking again.”

So now he wants to be a damn therapist?

“Hmph, fine.” You lifted the cover and reclined against the counter to make yourself comfortable. “My date was an asshole. Everything was fine at first, you know? He took me to this nice restaurant and we were hitting it off. Everything was perfect—the mood, the scenery, the food. Then one thing lead to another,” you lowered your chin, “and he kissed me…”

Distracted, you didn’t catch Bakugou’s fists clenching and his scowl growing deeper. “I didn’t ask for a recap of your crappy romantic date!”

“It’s important to the damn story!” You yelled at him, thrusting your spoon his way. “And you’re the one who asked! If I have to suffer through this date again, you’re suffering with me so buckle up, firecracker.”

Said firecracker seethed, but stayed quiet. You took it as sign to continue. “So anyway, he kissed me and next thing you know, some lady’s claws ripped me apart from him. They were actual claws by the way, like her nails were soooo long, I was surprised she didn’t scratch my face.”

Bakugou rolled his eyes.

“Apparently the guy used me to get his ex-girlfriend jealous so they can get back together,” you venomously spat out. “I gave that guy a Texas-smash slap and threw cold water at him. With ice cubes, for good measure too.”

A second later, you angrily stabbed the ice cream which took Bakugou by surprised. However, he quickly recovered and watched as you blindly attacked the delicious delicacy that was a Ben and Jerry’s ice cream pint.

“I felt so humiliated—”

Stab.

“—and used—“

Stab, stab.

“—and ugh!”

The spoon dropped. It clanked against the floor and you didn’t move for a moment. With flushed cheeks, you discarded the ice cream that was now a swirling mess. Slumping backwards, your back hit the kitchen drawers while you pinched the bridge of your nose. Tears dangerously emerged in your eyes, but you forced them to stay put. There was no way you were going to cry in front of him.

One hand weakly gestured towards Bakugou. You felt like a deflated balloon. “Go ahead, tell me that I’m just a dumbass with peasant problems.”

“Well you are a dumbass,” he started and you figured much. “But you’re a dumbass for moping over some garbage idiot like him.”

…what?

You didn’t expect that kind of response. Scrunching your eyebrows together, you gave him a ridiculous stare. Bakugou sighed loudly and slid his hand over his face as if he needed to spell out something so obvious.

“Look, you’re sulking over an asshole who never respected you,” he explained. Your ears carefully listened to every word. “Even though you stood up for yourself, you’re still letting that bastard win by acting all sad and shit.”

You stupidly blinked.

“Quit whining and realize he was never in your league in the first place,” he grunted as his crimson irises narrowed at you. “He’s not worth shedding tears over for, so don’t you dare start fucking crying.”

He left you speechless and you gawked at him.

Never in your life did you expect Bakugou to comfort someone…well, comfort anyone in general really. Did he give you a soft cuddle, patting your head saying everything was going to be okay? Hell no. Instead you got the Bakugou-version of it where he slapped some sense into your sorry-ass for moaning after some douche.

“I hate how right you areee,” you groaned dramatically into the air. Bakugou snorted at your reaction, but didn’t say anything else. Bringing your head down, you let out a soft chuckle and grinned at him. “I shouldn’t let that bastard make me feel so shitty. How dare he make me almost act out a cliche movie scene where I cry myself into an ice cream pint. The nerve of him…”

“Damn right.”

“I can’t believe I’m gonna say this, but—” you inhaled for the melodramatic effect “—thank you, Bakugou, for your comforting, albeit unconventional, words.”

“Yeah, whatever,” he muttered while looking away, hoping you didn’t catch the blush flaring up his cheeks. “Just as long as you stop stomping in here like a damn rhino.”

Your face briefly fell. “Ok, rude.”

He shot you a tiny smirk and the butterflies fluttered in your stomach.

Suddenly the floor became more interested and you remembered the mess you made. A curse flew out of your mouth as you snatched a paper towel to clean up the spot. After finding another spoon, you looked at your ice cream on the counter. It was slightly melted, but there was no way you were going to throw it away. In front of you was a Ben and Jerry’s ice cream and you spent good money on this baby.

“So,” you tapped your finger on the pint and took one bite of your dessert. “I guess we’re done here.”

“Guess so,” he nonchalantly shrugged.

Very well then, you thought as you slowly walked towards the doorframe where Bakugou stood and paused. It took all your willpower not to shrink away considering how close you two were. Your eyes boldly stared into his and neither of you said a word. The room was so silent you prayed Bakugou couldn’t hear your heart throbbing loudly against your chest.

No. Not yet.

“Well,” you broke the silence and flashed him a playful smile. “At least I now know there is a nice troll under the bridge.”

Not missing a beat, you rushed out of the kitchen with a hearty laugh before Bakugou had a chance to blast your annoying face out of existence.

~~~

Fun fact: originally this story was not going to be published. It was sitting in my “Unreleased Cuts” folder for some time because I wasn’t feeling the plot’s direction. Left it alone, came back to it and fixed it up. 

And here we are! 

Thank you again for reading :)

#katsuki bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou x reader #bnha bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugou #mha bakugou x reader #bnha bakugou #bnha katsuki #mha katsuki #mha bakugou #bnha reader insert #bnha imagines #bnha fanfiction #mha reader insert #mha imagines #bakugou imagines #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #bnha x reader #mha x reader #100 followers special #thank you all so much!! #bakugou is secretly a softie #he just doesn't know it

[anachilles]

» somewhere in the crowd, there’s you  ♪  julie/luke [ juke ]

If they weren’t already dead Julie swore she would kill them. Luke especially.

Actually no, that wasn’t fair. This time she couldn’t completely blame them for what was admittedly a dumb decision on her own part. But see it from her perspective - the boys hadn’t seen the Mamma Mia movies. They didn’t even know of their existence. That had to be remedied.

TL;DR - The boys are introduced to the Mamma Mia Cinematic Universe. Alex spectates, Julie sings ABBA, Luke falls further in love, and Reggie ends up reliving the horror of high school math class. Also BROT4 couch cuddles.

link to read on AO3: [x]

taglist: @wokealex @blueruby31

If they weren’t already dead Julie swore she would kill them. Luke especially.

Actually, no, that wasn’t fair. This time she couldn’t completely blame them for what was admittedly a dumb decision on her own part.

But see it from her perspective - the boys hadn’t seen the Mamma Mia movies. Didn’t even know of their existence. They had just been finishing up a group jam session when she’d made some off-hand joke about them hitting the big-time and having their music turned into a movie-musical series “like ABBA”. Reggie’s face had lit up and he immediately jumped on it, “Wait, they made a movie out of ABBA music?”

“Multiple movies?!” Alex had cut in, looking disbelieving but nonetheless delightfully intrigued.

Luke snorted with laughter, throwing his hands up as he turned to look at Julie. “That’s it - I know what we’re doing tonight” he exclaimed, and pointed at her “Do you have them on ta-”

He catches himself before he can finish the word ‘tape’, but Julie’s eyes still narrow, her own smile now challenging. The boys really weren’t that bad at picking up the basics of modern technology, but slip-of-the-tongues still happened and Julie loved to tease them about it. Luke most of all just because he always dogged the other two the most about it when they did it. Also, perhaps a little bit, because he was kind of cute when he got all defensive.

“On what, now?”

Luke floundered for a second, and Alex and Reggie traded a look between them. Suddenly though, a lightbulb dinged above his head and his expression turned smug.

“DVD! Do you have them on DVD”

Julie laughed, making what was meant to be a loud ‘buzzer’ sound. “Wrong answer! Not the most up-to-date form of media storage, but nonetheless thank-you for playing”. Her expression softened though when she heard Alex and Reggie hound him a little behind her, “However, we do have them on DVD because my dad likes having physical copies of stuff”.

She was about to leave to go grab them from the house, only the time on her phone caught her attention and her heart sank.

“Hey guys, I can go get them for you but I don’t think I can stay the whole way through both. I’ve got school tomorrow.”

All three boys erupted in protestations, Luke’s notably the loudest of all, though on Alex’s suggestion she conceded to stay for at least the first one, then they’d pick up the second one tomorrow or something. 

Honestly, it hadn’t taken nearly as much convincing as it should have. 

She just really needed to physically be there to witness the three of them watching Meryl Streep jump off a pier to the tune of ‘Dancing Queen’ and Pierce Brosnan absolutely butcher ‘The Winner Takes it All’ for the very first time. Also, talking to them about the movies had made her realise it had been way too long since she’d last watched them herself, and they always made her feel so light and happy. As silly as it may sound, the care-free, sunshiney tone but with genuine moments in them had helped carry her through some really dark days. Since then, they’d always been comforting to return to.

So that’s how she ended up squished on the beat-up old studio couch with three ghost boys from the 90’s, having the absolute pleasure of seeing them react to ‘Mamma Mia’ for the very first time. It was a bit of a tight squeeze, and required Reggie to be sitting with one leg straddled over the arm of the couch and the rest of him pretty much glued to Luke’s side, but they made it work.

Although just as she was getting herself comfy in her spot between Alex and Luke, something niggled at the back of her mind. Something she forgot to do? Maybe? She wracked her brain for a couple of minutes, but her attention quickly and all-too-easily drifted to the screen as the opening chords of ‘Honey, Honey’ sounded, like some sort of siren call, and she couldn’t help but mouth along to the words. She knew them pretty much by heart.

What certainly didn’t help with her cognitive functioning however, is when during ‘Money, Money, Money…’ she felt Luke shift where he was pretty much flush against her side and his arm stretch out behind her neck. His hand settled somewhere near her shoulder; teasingly close but not quite touching it. Her heart rate kicked up a notch, but she was determined to keep her eyes on the screen in front of her, daring not to look his way or even let on that she noticed.

The boys were touchy-feely and generally very physically affectionate with each other, she knew that just from generally being around them these past couple of months. Julie had always found it really sweet and endearing, how unashamedly tactile they were with each other, but at the same time couldn’t help but feel left out as her own friendships with all of them got deeper and she grew closer to them all. Now that they were corporeal, at least to her, suddenly she’d become privy to all that as well.

Now she couldn’t imagine not being able to do stuff like hold their hands during band circles, or not knowing the utter warmth of Alex’s hugs (it was undisputed that he gives the best ones) when he noticed she’d had a tough day at school, or even what it felt like to not have Reggie gleefully grab her hands, or arm, or shoulders when he got super excited about something.

She’d already been falling hard for Luke before when she couldn’t physically feel him under her fingertips. For all intents and purposes wasn’t fully there there, but now? When she’d felt the brush of his body behind her when he’d lean over her shoulder to look at sheet music, or his thigh press up against her leg as they shared a piano stool during their little lyric brainstorming sessions? When they could high-five, lean into each other’s side, playfully shove each other when one thinks the other is being annoying, grab each other’s hands and dance around the room in celebration when they manage to book another gig? All those little moments they could have now added layers to what she already felt.

However, even if she felt something between them, that spark,  and her gut told her Luke possibly felt so too, Julie also couldn’t deny that that kind of affection wasn’t any different to the kind he showed towards Alex and Reggie too. Plus, she didn’t really know how ghosts felt about having relationships, especially with the living, or if Luke would even want to go there. So she tried not to read too much into what kind of felt like Luke pulling that old “arm around shoulder whilst distracted by the movie” move.

So although she never really could forget how close he was, Julie let herself become immersed back in the movie. Her life was generally good, labels and certainty or not, she was happy. The happiness of the movie fed into that. The boys seemed to be having a hoot with it as well, if how much Alex especially was grooving in his seat was any indication.

Julie’s not quite sure what possessed her to say it in the moment, or what she expected to transpire when she did, but when they got to the ‘Super Trouper’ scene coming straight off of the, uh, heaviness of ‘Lay All Your Love on Me’ (during which Luke went weirdly quiet for some reason, prompting Alex and Reggie to share a fleeting look over the top of both his and Julie’s heads) and the opening chords sounded she blurted out 

“Oh, this used to be my karaoke song when I was a kid”. 

Luke’s eyes immediately went wide and she knew she was in trouble. He quickly urged Reggie to grab the remote and pause the movie, ignoring Alex’s soft “Hey, I was watching that!”, before turning his attention fully towards her.

“Well now you have to do the routine; get on up there and show us what you’re made of!”

Julie’s jaw hung open a little and she wasn’t sure whether she could really be annoyed at anyone but herself for practically handing this to him on a silver platter.

“No! I really don’t…” she tried to argue, though his mischievous smile was infectious and damn her lips threatened to twitch into a smile too. “It’s been years! And anyway, I only bust it out for audiences that are deserving of it”.

Luke met her with a challenging gaze. “Bet it’s cause you don’t know the words” he said, turning to Reggie, his tone dripping in antagonism. “Hey, did you hear that the great Julie Molina won’t perform because she doesn’t know all of the words to Super Trouper by ABBA?”. Reggie’s eyebrows shot up and he immediately played along. “Y’know what? I actually did hear that somewhere. Huh…”.

Julie shot a withering look at Alex, a wordless “Can you do anything?” shining in her eyes, but he has the nerve to just shrug (!) with a silent, smiling “I’ll allow it”.

She could’ve got them to drop it if she really had wanted them to, she knew that. Maybe Julie from three months ago would have. Actually, no, that version of herself definitely would have made them drop it; the darkness shrouding her life day-in, day-out smothering any semblance of silly, carefree happiness and convincing her that simply having fun just wasn’t for her.

But she didn’t feel like that anymore.

Julie pulled herself to her feet, eyes fixed with new determination. She crossed the room to the open space, taking a stance mirroring that of the one they’d paused Meryl Streep in and fixed Luke with a playful glare, even though she was addressing Reggie.

“Unpause the movie”.

The performance was one for the history books, if she did say so herself. The boys watched on in amazement as she remembered every word, near enough every step and dance move (the big sleeve shimmy was an interesting one though with sweater sleeves nowhere near dramatic enough to match Donna’s) and personally she thought she sold it.

About halfway through Alex snuck a glance at Luke by his side, and realised karma must be having a slow night given how fast it was paying the other boy back, because he was undeniably staring at Julie with what was clearly pure, open adoration.

“‘Cause somewhere in the crowd, there’s yooooou” she finished with a flourish, heart thumping, and lowered her arm to point at all three of them in turn, but finishing ultimately on Luke even though he was sat in the middle. His face scrunched up with a cheesy smile and he let out a loud whoop of appreciation, kicking off the round of applause before the other boys joined in, Reggie coming in clutch with the standing ovation and everything.

Julie felt breathless but joyful as she flung herself back into her seat, and Luke leaned forward to grab her soda, handing it to her with what looked like contrition.

“I guess I stand corrected, huh?” he said, defeated, but not entirely sorry to be so.

She shrugged, taking a sip of the drink. “I guess you are. It’s a good look on you”.

Luke snorted with laughter and they laughed together for a brief second, an apparent blush rising to sit on his cheeks (Could ghosts blush? How did that even work?).

Before the situation could get weird or questionable though, he turned back towards the movie, but slowly. Like he wasn’t quite ready to leave this moment just yet; like he wanted to stay looking at her just a bit longer. Julie just nudged him and settled back in, trying to go about it in such a way that would implore him to put his arm back around her like he had before.

It didn’t come until the scene where Bill confesses to Sophie that he thinks he’s her father, but eventually that now familiar weight settled behind her head again, setting off a whole herd of butterflies in her stomach.

The first movie came to an end, and things wouldn’t have been awful if she’d just called it a night there and gone to bed. But she was having so much fun and they were all so comfy, and the boys seemed very excited for the prospect of a half-prequel-half-sequel.

“Surely they’ve already used all the good ABBA songs in the first one though, right?” Reggie argued, causing Alex to swing round to look at him, scandalised.

“Are you insinuating that there’s a bad ABBA song?”

While they hashed it out in the background, Luke backing Reggie up just to get a rise out of Alex, Julie acted on impulse and jumped up, running towards the garage window. All the lights in the house were out, meaning her dad was already in bed and everything. As long as she was super quiet sneaking back in and remembered to bypass that squeaky floorboard on the stairs, he never had to know.

“Alright; Here We Go Again - let’s do this”.

Turns out Julie had kind of underestimated how late it was and how long the day had been. She could feel herself getting tired around the ‘Waterloo’ mark, eyelids growing heavier and heavier as she gradually sunk lower and relaxed deeper into the couch. By the time young Donna makes it to the Kalokairi her head had come to rest in the crook Luke’s neck, his flannel soft under her cheek as his cheek leans against the top of her head. Maybe it was a testament to how sleepy she was, but she couldn’t bring herself to move away. The posture felt natural.

She was so comfortable, surrounded by warmth and the soothing hum of the old second-hand TV they’d bought at a garage sale and moved into the garage, she was right on the verge of dozing off… when a realisation crashed into her mind, seemingly out of nowhere.

Julie shot up poker-straight, suddenly very awake. “Oh, crap!”

The three boys startled, most of all Luke when her movement meant he almost fell face-first into the couch cushion.

“What is it?!”

She groaned and fell forward into her hands. “I have a math test tomorrow. And I was going to study for it before bed tonight.”

So that’s how she ends up with Reggie hanging uselessly over her shoulder in the middle of math class, the exchange that came after the realisation still ringing in her ears.

“Hey, hey! It’s fine. Take Reggie - believe it or not, he was good at math” Luke offered up hurriedly.

Reggie himself looked a little stricken. “Yeah, 25 years ago, dude!”.

“Do the rules of math go out-of-date, or…?” Alex teased, though still placed a comforting hand on Julie’s back.

“No, Alex, they don’t - so relax, you’ll be fine, man! You can’t make the situation any worse by trying”

“Don’t give him that challenge, Luke”.

Though admittedly she loved him just for actually turning up and trying, he was staring down at the test with as much confusion as she was. Apparently math had changed over the course of 25 years. They exchange a mutually panicked look. Clearly, neither of them knew shit. Instead, Reggie just runs up to the front of the room and peeps on Mrs Ford’s answer sheet, Julie’s hopeful eyes following him as he dodges around desks and backpacks lying on the floor.

“Are you sure?” she mumbles to him under her breath when he gets back. Apparently not quite low enough though, when the guy next to her turns to give her a funny look, and she has to make a show of furrowing her eyebrows and counting on her fingers, muttering appropriately as she goes.

Julie can feel Flynn’s discerning gaze from across the room and she knows she knows there’s some ghost-like foolery happening. It’s a mess. She’s a mess.

Eventually the bell sounds and signals an end to the ordeal, and Julie takes out her (locked) phone to genuinely thank Reggie for his help all the same.

“Ehhh I’m not sure how much help I was, but you’re welcome” he says, laughter coloured with self-deprecation.

Julie smiles genuinely, and she would’ve nudged him if she wouldn’t have been nudging thin air in public. “Hey, I think we got about three quarters of those answers down and that’s 75% more than I would’ve gotten without you”.

Reggie looks pleased, and stands up a little straighter as he walks alongside her. “Do you mind if I hang out here for a while, by the way?”

Julie’s a little taken aback. “I mean, sure, but why would you want to? It’s just school”.

Reggie shrugs, and there’s something unreadable in his eyes. It’s weird for him; he’s generally such an open book. “I don’t know. I never graduated, we were still going when we… y’know…” he trails off, eyes scanning the halls and the throngs of students laughing and chatting together at their lockers, going about their normal day. “Kind of miss it”.

“Well, you obviously have free reign to look around wherever you want. If you want me to show you anywhere in particular, just let me know. I’m meeting Flynn for lunch now though, so that might not be as fun for you...”

The way he says it makes something ache in Julie’s chest, and she wishes she could give him a hug. With the boys so real now, and so immersed and predominant in her life, it was getting easier and easier to somewhat forget that they were actually dead and had both led and left lives behind. Being reminded of that was starting to hit her that little bit harder.

Reggie nods sincerely, mirroring her slight chuckle. “Thanks, Julie”.

Approaching the cafeteria, Julie sees Flynn in the distance, and is about to put her phone away when she suddenly stops in her tracks, and keeps it held to her face.

“By the way…” she smirks. “If Alex or Luke ask, I scored a 95 and it was all down to you”.

#jatp #julie and the phantoms #juke #julie molina #luke patterson #jatp fanfiction #mine #my writing

[kip-loric]

Remember - Cagel

Uh, hi. This is my first time posting anything, including a fanfiction, so I hope it's good. This is my contribution to the Lorien Legacies fandom, with a Lorien Legacies Reborn ship. Cagel! I finished reading fugitive six and was in the mood and because... why not? Anyways, hope you guys like it, or at least don't hate it.

Caleb's P.O.V.

I open my eyes to see sunlight streaming into my room through my open curtains. My window is slightly cracked open, a damp breeze blowing in through the screen.

I’m on my back, my thick comforter covering my legs and bare torso. I sink slightly into the warm mattress, my pillow feeling like a cloud. I let my heavy eyelids close before forcing them open again.

Wait… I think slowly. Memories blurred by alcohol fill my mind as I notice a slight pressure on my chest and glance down. A pale arm is draped across me. My breath catches in my throat, I’m fully awake now. I angle my head to my left.

Bleached hair is splayed out next to me on my pillow. Holy shit. I whip my head back forward and stare at the ceiling. I can feel lean legs tangled up with mine. I swallow hard and I urge my brain to remember more of yesterday.

What happened? I ask myself.

A bottle of champagne and a few beers come to mind. Damn, how much did I drink? I squeeze my eyes shut and dredge up more from last night.

There was Taylor and Kopano. They were watching a movie, something with action and cars.

I smile a little at the memory. I don’t mind their relationship so much anymore and have even begun to feel happy for them. Soon after they had gotten together, my childish crush on Taylor had begun to fade.

Ran was there too, along with Isabela, who somehow snuck alcohol from the UN Peacekeepers. We met up in our dorm and hung out, putting on some music. There were cups passed out and we talked for a while.

But...what happened after that? I remember Taylor and Ran stumbling out the door, leaning on each other for support. They said they’ll see us tomorrow, and maybe something about sleeping? I guess I wasn’t paying attention to them. I was paying attention to someone else.

I blink open my eyes, focusing on the ceiling once again.

It happened weeks ago. I didn’t notice it at first, the way my gaze seemed to be drawn to my roommate. When he caught me looking at him and I turned away as quickly as I could, I realized something was off.

I couldn’t place my feelings for a while, and then I tried to deny them. I mean, all my previous attractions had been to girls. Sure, I had eyed male peers now and then, but had ignored those feelings, hiding them away. If my brothers found out…

Damn it, though, when he smiles at me, my family's acceptance is the farthest thing in my mind. It’s like the voices in my head turn into background noise and butterflies take over my stomach. I feel blood rush to my cheeks everytime he laughs and I can’t help but join in.

Nigel.

Even the name has a way of taking my breath away.

He had been the first person to really look out for me, and we quickly became close friends. We started a band together, snuck out of the base with our friends, and partied on the beach. The nice punk helped me open up and discover myself.

I take a deep breath and look out of the corner of my eyes. A face filled with piercings is only a few inches away from mine. I can feel my eyes widen and I shake my head to try and clear it.

Focus, Caleb, I think. What happened last night?

Let’s see… Kopano passed out on the couch after eating almost everything in the fridge. He was snoring louder than I’ve ever heard.

And, Isabela drank way too much and ended up puking? Yeah, that sounds right. She slumped down on the couch next to Kopano, propping her head up with a pillow and immediately falling asleep.

So, that just left Nigel and I. Damn. The memories become clearer and I strain my aching mind. Fuzzy images pop into my head of him and I on opposite sides of the kitchen. I had a glass clasped in my hands, and kept refilling it.

“Woah, mate,” he had said. He hadn’t had nearly as many drinks as the rest of us and his voice was clear. “Let’s tone it down a notch, yeah?” I had reluctantly set down the beverage while he walked up to me. I couldn’t keep my eyes off of his hips and the way they moved with each step.

“You alright?” Nigel asked. We had locked eyes and I dumbly nodded.

He has beautiful eyes, I think. And they're often filled with whatever he’s feeling. Compassion, mischief, kindness, sometimes confusion, and tons of other emotions all show themselves there. His eyes have to be my favorite part of him.

You're getting off track, I scold myself.

“C’mon,” he had said. “You look like ya could use some rest.” He had led me to my bedroom and sat on the edge of my bed with me. A shiver had traveled down my spine as he accidentally brushed his shoulder against mine.

“You gonna be okay, pal?” He asked me. And then…then I did something really stupid.

“Nooooo,” I whisper in my room, dragging a hand across my face as the rest of yesterday comes flooding into my mind.

“No,” I had told him, leaning closer to his handsome face. The alcohol had made me unnaturally brave and I had rested one of my hands on top of his. My worries had begun to melt into nothingness. “I won’t be okay if you leave.” I remember how my words slurred together.

His neck began to turn red and his Adam's apple bobbed up and down nervously. “Caleb…” he whispered, his eyes showing confusion and an odd nervousness. Oh, screw it, I had thought, like an idiot with too much to drink.

I had quickly leaned in the rest of the way and pressed my lips to his. I cupped his face with my hands and I closed my eyes as he made a surprised squeaking sound against my mouth.

No, I groan internally. Why, why, why? Why, you dumbass? I glare at the ceiling in my frustration. No matter how strongly I felt drawn to him, our friendship was more important, but I probably ruined it last night.

But then… I scrunch my eyebrows together in uncertainty.

I remember moving my mouth against his passionately while leaning into him, wanting us to be closer. He had planted a hand on my waist to steady us, then kissed me back. His lips were softer than I had imagined them to be as he tried to match my intensity.

He… kissed me back?

Eventually, I let him overpower me and take the lead. He had brushed his tongue piercing over my lips while running his fingers through my sandy blond hair. I had tried to urge on the brit with a small bite to his bottom lip, but the hand that was in my hair faltered instead.

I moved my hands away from his neck and cheeks, beginning to run them down the sides of his body. My right hand had snaked into his shirt and pressed against the small of his back.

I remember myself breaking our kiss, both of us out of breath and panting slightly. I had kissed his jawline and then his neck, earning a low growl from him.

“Oh god,” I mutter while pinching the bridge of my nose. My face gets hot from the embarrassment of intoxicated me, but I take a deep breath and continue my memory hunt.

I had nibbled and suckled the sensitive skin of his neck, making him let out light moans. I felt myself getting hard as I suddenly bit down on his skin and he gasped with surprise. I tugged up on his shirt, my way of telling him I wanted it off.

A deep sense of longing and want took over me and I crawled onto his lap, my face still buried in the crook of his neck. One of my hands had reached down towards the forming bulge in the front of his pants.

I need you. I need you. I need you. The words had chanted over and over again in my mind like a drunken mantra. Nigel gripped my wrist to stop my hand from moving any farther.

“Wait,” he muttered. His voice had seemed distant and fuzzy at the time. He gripped some of my hair and pulled my head back so I looked him in the eyes. We stared at each other for a few seconds before he kissed me softly.

And… my memories stop after that.

Wait, no! What happened!? My breathing falters as I think of the possibilities. I relax a little as I realize my pants are still on, but my heart continues to hammer against my chest. I wrack my brain, but come up with nothing more and finally bring myself to look at the person next to me.

It's definitely Nigel, no doubt about it. His breathing is slow and steady, making my eyelashes flutter with each exhale. He wears a thin tank top and a pair of sweatpants.

Should I wake him? I desperately want to know what happened, but he also looks so calm. I gaze at him, my heart beat settling. My initial panic is soon replaced with a flood of warmth in my chest.

“Nigel,” I whisper, reaching over and nudging his shoulder slightly. “Nigel.” He groans in his sleep, lips pursing together. I shake him a little and he moves his head closer to me.

I take in a sharp breath and his legs shift around, becoming more entangled with mine. His eyelids open slowly and when he sees me he smiles, a pleasant surprise on my part.

“Hi,” he says groggily.

“Good morning,” I whisper.

“Mm,” he replies, eyes half closed. “What’s the time?”

“Um, I’m not sure. I haven’t checked.” Nigel must hear the slight panic in my voice because his eyes open the rest of the way. He lifts his arm off of me and untangles our legs.

“Do you remember last night?” He asks me, starting to sit up. There’s worry in his words and his looks at me with concern and hopefulness.

“Uh, well, I- I remember some, but- uh,” I stutter, sitting up quickly and crossing my legs. “I mean, I- we didn’t have…? Or di- did we?” I rub one of my arms nervously and Nigel gives me a soft smile. “I can’t remember...”

“Nah,” he says quietly. “I stopped you from going too far. You were way too drunk and I couldn’t take you like that. Besides, I wasn’t sure if that’s what you would have wanted.”

I take a deep breath and return the smile. “Thank you.”

He nods, almost sadly, and glances down at the bed. “I’m… not sure if you want any of this.” He motions to the space where we were just sleeping next to each other.

“Oh.”

That’s all you have to say!? I think. Oh? Tell him how you feel! I look up at Nigel and my throat starts to close up. “I-” I blink rapidly a couple times as he looks at me expectantly. “I do. Want this, I mean.”

“Really?” He asks.

“If you do, then yeah.”

His signature smirk returns and he leans closer to me, giving me plenty of time to pull away or rethink my decision. I meet him halfway and our lips crash together. My senses are heightened compared to last night, and the kiss soon turns heated.

We fall back onto my bed, with Nigel on top. He seems much more confident than yesterday and his tongue finds its way into my mouth. He pins one of my arms next to my head and makes an approving noise in the back of his throat.

We kiss for what feels like an eternity, my imagination running wild. A loud knock on my door makes us both jump. We break the kiss and Nigel flings himself off of me.

“Uh,” I say, but Nigel has already caught his breath and strides to the door. He opens it and leans against the doorway.

“Oi, what’s up?” He asks. Lightly panting, I peer over his shoulder and see Isabela’s dark hair on the other side. I start panicking again as she sees me and I give her a small wave. She rolls her eyes and speaks to Nigel.

“Some of us are a little hungover, so if you could kindly shut your traps, that would be nice. Save it for another time? Or maybe put your legacy to good use.”

“Sorry, love,” Nigel tells her, not flustered at all. “We’ll be quiet.”

“Thank you,” she huffs and leaves us alone. Nigel shuts the door quietly behind her and walks back up to the bed. He sits on the edge and swings his legs over, nestling down into the covers and pillows.

He holds out one of his arms. “Cuddling?” I smile happily and let him wrap me in his arms. I nuzzle into his chest and breath in his scent, not wanting the moment to ever end.

“So, does this make you my boyfriend?” He asks after a minute, twirling a few strands of my hair through his fingers.

“I hope so,” I say.

He chuckles lightly and kisses the top of my head. “Good.”

#cagel #caleb crane #nigel barnaby #loric #lorien legacies reborn #lorien legacies #human garde #garde #generation one #fugative six

[nitewrighter]

Humble Pie

None of the prompts in my inbox are currently speaking to me, so I decided to fill in a gap in my fic continuity and write something non-shippy. So here’s McCree’s recruitment into Blackwatch!

-----

It was the most crowded the Panorama Diner had been in god-knew-how-long. Overwatch agents and local law enforcement mingled in a mix of blue and beige, some clustered around table booths hasty laptop and holo-comm stations, some pacing about the floor, talking on their own comms and headpieces with officers back at Watchpoint Grand Mesa or even as far as Zurich. The most crowded Panorama had been, and no one was eating.

Well... almost no one.

“You sure you don’t want any?” said Gabe, pressing the side of his fork into the slice of apple pie, sectioning off the flaky crust and gooey filling.

Jesse McCree frowned sullenly at his own plate, his own slice of pie already in a puddle of melting vanilla ice cream. He moved to pick up his fork and the chain of his handcuffs clinked with the movement. He glared up at Reyes from beneath the brim of his hat, but Reyes kept calmly eating.

“It’s good pie,” Gabe said with a slight shrug. The corners of McCree’s mouth pulled inward in a repulsed little scowl.

“Ain’t you got anything better to do?” McCree growled. There was a pitchiness in his voice that spoke to the last miserable ekes of puberty in all their acne-speckling glory still clinging to his scrappy form.

“Oh we’ve got all the time in the world,” said Gabe with another forkful of pie.

“Where’s Ashe?” said McCree.

“Her folks posted her bail, and I have a stack of forms from her family legal team roughly as thick as your head that forbid me from saying anything further on her involvement in this incident.”

“Oh,” McCree huffed a little and eased back in his seat, “Guess that means they’re coming for me next,” A smug smile eased onto his features, but Reyes didn’t seem to respond to that, just let McCree’s words sit in the air between them as his fork scraped across his plate, gathering bits of pastry and melted ice cream dappled with cinnamon.

McCree first basked in the silence as victory, but as he noted the lack of reaction in Reyes, doubt crept in slowly. Reyes gently set his fork down on the side of his plate and looked up at Jesse. The calm eye contact from Reyes was all it took for Jesse’s nerves to bubble up in his throat.

“I mean... “ a short nervous laugh rippled out of him, “Th-that’s what they said, right? They’d be representin’ me, too?”

Reyes said nothing, just gave him a steady look.

“Right?” that pitchiness sharpened in his voice, nearly making it crack.

“...it’s a tough truth of this world, kid,” Reyes said, leaning back in his seat slightly, “Don’t get involved with rich kids. They can buy their way out of trouble, but you...”

“No--” McCree interrupted him, “No--there’s--there’s been a mistake. Ashe said--she said---” 

“Maybe there was honor amongst thieves out here, under an open sky,” said Reyes with a weary shrug, “But I can’t say the same in the US legal system. And it’s a story jurors would love to hear: the pretty, oil tycoon princess just wants adventure, just wants attention, she gets mixed up with the dastardly local trash... falls in with a bad crowd... oh but she can change, she just needs another chance--it was Jesse McCree doing all the work, anyway, it was all his idea. Is that even his real name? Oh but don’t worry, 12 years in a maximum security cell oughta straighten him right up.”

All color had drained from McCree’s face. The look in those eyes would have been heartbreaking if Reyes wasn’t well aware he was a little shit.

“So that’s the stick,” said Reyes, picking up his fork, “Do you want to hear about the carrot, now?”

McCree tried to bring some hardness back to his expression, but his brow was still crinkling, realizing just how easy it was for Ashe’s family to throw him under the bus and how he had refused to see it for so long.

“...I ain’t a rat,” said McCree, staring down at the pie, “’sides, not like I can give you anything useful anyway.”

“I’m not looking for information,” said Reyes, “I’m looking for insight. A sharp eye. A steady hand.”

“Fresh blood,” McCree tilted his head up a little. Reyes gave a small single nod.

 A small scoff escaped McCree. “You can forget it. I ain’t a narc and I ain’t cannon fodder.”

“Did I say I was looking for a narc or cannon fodder?” Reyes pointed a fork at him, “Overwatch has plenty of those in our ranks already, rebuilding after the crisis is going to take more than bright-eyed button-up dumbasses star-struck by propaganda,” Reyes set the fork on his plate again and pushed it aside, now picking up a binder that had been on the seat next to him and flipping it open to CCTV photos of McCree. One was of him fixing up a dilapidated hover bike, another was of him carrying groceries in both arms for an old woman, and there were several photos of non-lethal gun wounds, “We had to do months of research to pull off this sting operation, and you know what I saw? Guts. Resourcefulness. Resilience. The ability to defuse high-tension situations. The ability to convince other people towards your own goals. The marks of a man who lives by a code... or at least is starting to. You wanted to be the goddamn Robin Hood of Route 66, but you’re young, you’re cocky, and you’re sloppy, and now you’re here.”

“You know how many ‘you have so much potential’ weepy speeches I’ve had to sit through?” McCree muttered.

“I don’t know, but I can guarantee you that whether you say yes or no, this is the last one,” said Reyes.

McCree’s glance fell down to his handcuffs. “It’s like that, then?”

“It’s like that,” said Reyes.

McCree was silent for a long time.

“I can give you the usual spiel--three square meals a day, roof over your head, travel the world and meet new and interesting people, top notch combat training--but you’ve heard all that shit before, and that didn’t convince you then, so there’s no reason it’ll convince you now,” Reyes went on, “You had fuck-all to do around here, but it wasn’t like you were going to join Overwatch or the army just to get out of here--you didn’t want to get out by fitting into someone else’s mold.” 

McCree made a near-scoffing “hm” noise that hinted at a smile.

“Did I read you right?” said Reyes.

“Fuck you,” the words came almost warmly out of McCree and his eyes were fixed on Reyes with a pensive curiosity that made Reyes wonder how interesting the conversation got out here in the middle of nowhere. McCree rubbed his chin, with one hand, the cuffs forcing his other hand to lift and hang lazily with the motion. “...y’know, I saw you in all those Crisis propaganda movies... thought you’d be more like Morrison.” 

“Morrison can have all the clean-scrubbed soldiers he wants,” said Gabe with a shrug, leaning back in his seat, “Me? I want the survivors. I want the cockroach motherfuckers.”

McCree snorted at this.

 “Dying for a cause you believe in,” Reyes followed up, “That’s easy. I saw loads of people do it... doing what needs to be done though... being willing to live with that shit afterward because there’s more shit to be done... It takes a certain kind of person to do that. And I’d rather have that person on my team than rotting away in a cell.” 

“On your team,” McCree repeated, squinting skeptically. 

“After the proper training of course. And there’s medical care. Dental. You get dental with the whole outlaw thing?”

McCree’s lips self-consciously closed over his teeth on instinct.

“And for what it’s worth, we’ll let you keep the hat,” said Reyes.

That smile tugged at the corner of McCree’s mouth. He resettled in his seat slightly, picked up his fork and sectioned off a bit of his own pie, now a virtual pile of pastry and apple mush beneath the melted remnants of its vanilla ice cream.

“Cockroach motherfuckers, huh?” said McCree, taking a bite of the pie.

“Working team name. Jack’s been pushing me toward ‘Blackwatch’ but what the hell does he know?”

“What does he know?” said McCree with a smile, taking another bite.

#overwatch #jesse mccree #gabriel reyes

[miguelsbrat]

The Theater | Miguel Galindo x Reader*

Warnings: Language, Cheating, Dom/Sub Tones, a Dash of Daddy Kink, and Some Steamy Forbidden Lovin' in a Public Place

Note: I haven't posted anything smutty on here since the Tumblr Apocalypse of 2018, so I tried to keep this light, but... it sort of got away from me.

Thank you for reading! 🥰

"Can I help you?" The guy behind the glass, all shaggy hair and unshaven jaw, barely looks up from his book.

"One ticket to the one o'clock showing of The Way We Were, please."

"Twelve dollars."

You slide your card through the window and wait for the ticket to pop up from the slot.

"Enjoy the show," he says, his eyes never leaving his page.

As you replace your wallet in your bag, you remember the reason you're here. The image of your secret lover flashes behind your eyes, dark and dangerous and brooding. Your fingers wrap around the door and your heart skips a beat when you think of him waiting for you.

The salty smell of popcorn washes over you when you reach the lobby, the buttery scent teasing your nostrils. Though it's likely stale, you stop and order a bucket. You don't want to look too eager so you linger by the register, smiling at the cashier as they scoop, grateful for the distraction from the silence.

Snack in hand, your feet drag along the old, worn carpet, the billowy fabric of your sundress kicking up around your ankles as you climb the theater stairs.

He was right--aside from the braided mercenary who nods at you as he passes by, there's no one else around.

A ghost of a smile crosses his lips as you reach the top and find him in the center of the back row.

"You bought popcorn?" Miguel shakes his head, sliding over and raising his arm to make room. He knows you like to nuzzle in as close as possible, even when there's no one else around.

Especially when there's no one else around.

Because Miguel may be your man, but he's also Emily Galindo's husband.

"It smelled good and I couldn't resist. You know, I never saw this movie," you say, fighting the shiver that was working up your spine by talking too much. "Is it any good?"

"It doesn't matter, querida." His voice dips low, taking on that raspy tone that makes your stomach twist and pull with need. "You won't be watching it today, either."

"I won't? But isn't that why we're here?"

Your playful smirk is rewarded with the patented Galindo glare, the look that promises he's not teasing and makes your panties ridiculously wet.

"If you wanted to watch the movie, you shouldn't have shown up looking like this." His finger trails along the soft swell of cleavage peeking over the neckline of your ivory sundress.

"Looking like what, exactly?" The urge to smile is strong, but you manage to suppress it.

"Looking like some kind of goddess created just for me." His lips find your ear, teeth grazing the soft lobe, and you have to bite back a sigh. "Get over here, princesa."

As you meet his amber gaze, tendrils of longing unfurl in your chest. It's been too long since you've been alone with him, thanks to Emily's sudden suspicions, and you're desperate to make up for lost time.

He laces his fingers through yours, waiting patiently for you to climb over him and settle yourself onto his lap. Though he's calm and unruffled as always, a little thrill shoots through you when remember that you're technically in public.

Your hips roll against him just once and he sighs, squeezing your hands before releasing them to wrap around your waist. He's hard already, and probably has been since he first laid eyes on you.

As you wait for his next command, your first instinct is to lower your gaze, your eyes skimming over his exquisite bespoke charcoal suit. It's a little much for the movies, but that's Miguel.

When his palm slides up your neck, fingers resting at your throat, he tips your face up towards his. And when his lips finally touch yours, it's like lighting a match.

Flames ignite between you and your tongues tangle, teeth clashing messily as the passion begins to consume you. His beard abrades your delicate skin, but you can't get enough. It's always like this when you're together--chaotic and uninhibited, until he gathers enough strength to take control.

"Mmm. I missed the taste of you," he admits as you grind against him.

"I missed the taste of you, too, Daddy," you whisper, loving the warmth of his body. You're embarrassingly wet, soaked through your panties and probably his pants, too. "I feel like I'm in high school again, making out in the back of a movie theater."

"I'll bet you drove the boys crazy in high school, didn't you?" His smile is lopsided, uncharacteristically soft. "Did you tease them like you're teasing me? Rubbing your sweet little pussy against them and ruining their pants?"

"Maybe," you breathe, unsure what he wants you to say. Miguel may be married, but he's extremely possessive of you.

"Show me how you teased them, princesa. Roll those hips for me."

His teeth graze your collarbone as he palms your chest, and you slowly rock against him. His hard cock is notched between your thighs, and you can feel every ridge through the light fabric separating you.

"Fuck, baby," he grunts, shifting so you lean further back for him.

Your fingers find his buckle, opening it with practiced ease, and you slowly roll down his zipper. When you try to wrap your fingers around him, he swells against your palm.

"I want to ride you, Daddy. Please?"

His eyes darken a full shade as he considers your request. It's a lot for him to relinquish control, but he wants it this time, too. Plus your options are fairly limited in the small, cramped theater.

"Turn around," he husks, pulling himself out the rest of the way as you turn to face the screen. "And take off those filthy panties."

Your fingers hook into the lace, sliding them down your legs and over your ankles. You're about to tuck them into your purse, but he stops you.

"Ooh, you bad little girl. These are fucking soaked." One hand squeezes your breast and the other twirls your underwear around his fingers. You're not even surprised when he stuffs them in your mouth. "Can you taste yourself on the silk?"

You whimper softly in response.

Impatient hands ruck the hem of your sundress up around your waist, and you grip him tight in your fist. He's hot and silky, smooth against your palm, and you can't wait to feel him inside you.

You're not sure what's happening on the screen, but it's quiet--too quiet to be careless. Your vision blurs as you guide him to your entrance.

Slowly, you sink down on him, the panties between your teeth muffling your moans. Miguel bites down on your shoulder to stifle his own sounds of pleasure as you lean back against his chest.

The air conditioning is on full-blast but it always feels like it's 90 degrees whenever Miguel is nearby, and with him inside you like this, it feels like an inferno.

You do your best to ride him slow, trying not to make it obvious if someone were to walk back and find you, but desperation overtakes your senses.

Miguel's gripping your thighs, thrusting upwards to hit you where you need to feel him, and the first ripples of an orgasm begin to spread through you.

You're thankful for the panties smothering your cries when he leans back to change the angle and you suddenly see stars.

"That's my girl," he whispers, urging you on. "I feel you getting close. Go ahead and let go for me, querida. I want it all."

His hand slips beneath your dress to find your clit, rubbing slowly as he plunges even deeper than before. Your senses all blend together as you fall apart for the man you love, bathing his cock in your hot release.

Miguel groans behind you, letting loose a stream of filthy Spanish words as his hips still. He fills you up with everything he has just as you hear the metallic slam of a heavy theater door.

You spit out the panties and he helps you slide from his lap, draping your dress to cover your nudity as he tucks himself back in his pants.

Your walls are still clenching as your dress hits your ankles, Miguel's release sliding down your inner thigh.

When no one appears at the front of the theater after a tense moment, you relax and lean into him.

"Are you okay?" You can feel his heartbeat racing alongside yours, but you nod.

You're more than okay, blissed out from his deep strokes and incredible body.

He cups your jaw, his face serious.

"This is the last time it goes down like this, okay? I need more of you than stolen moments in the shadows. I want to make love to you in a bed, to scream your name when I come inside you. Tonight, I'm telling Emily that our marriage is over."

His thumb brushes over your bottom lip, and you force a smile. You've never let yourself hope for more than this, so you have a hard time believing his promises.

If all you ever get with Miguel is the occasional secret rendezvous, you're okay with that. You'll take whatever he can give you.

Still, there's something different about the way he looks at you now as you settle in against his chest.

Something that tells you that maybe you'll get more of Miguel after all.

You smile to yourself and reach for your popcorn, content with whatever may come your way.

***

The End.

#miguel galindo #danny pino #mayans mc #mayans fx #miguel galindo imagine #miguel galindo x reader #Miguel Galindo x you #mayans mc imagine

[ughseoks]

lover | jhs

— pairing; hoseok x reader

— genre/rating; romance, fluff / PG

— word count; 1.3k

— warnings; none, unedited

— summary; you discovers that hoseok is in love with you upon finding a playlist named after you on his mp3 player.

— written for @bangtan-dreamland’s Drinks & Drabbles Game!

– this is in the universe of heather. it’s an alternate, fluffy ending! –

「 masterlist 」

@bangtiddies​: hello hello ordering a nice wine with hobi pls and thank you i lob you ❤️❤️

“Are you cold?” Hoseok asked, bumping your shoulder with his playfully.

“Just a little,” you replied, suppressing yet another shiver. Snowflakes were falling slowly around the two of you, sticking to Hobi’s lashes as they fluttered against his pink tinged cheeks. His fluffy chestnut waves poked out from beneath his beanie, the white ice crystals melting slowly between the soft strands.

“Here, take my sweater.” Before you could protest, he was already tugging the cream colored garment over his head in one swift motion, bunching it up in his hands. “Arms up.”

You uncrossed your arms, allowing him to pull the sweater onto your shivering body. When your head popped through the hole at the top, you were met with his heart-shaped smile, his eyes creased in satisfaction. The sweater covered your hands completely, and the warmth from his own body lingered on the fabric, seeping into your chilled skin.

“Y’know, it actually looks better on you,” he grinned and ruffled your hair, unaware of the effect he was having on you. Your heart was beating a little faster, cheeks heating from more than just the cold air as the faint scent of his woody cologne floated off of the sweater and into your nostrils. Rather than saying anything, you simply smiled, trying to calm the butterflies that erupted when he cooed about how cute you were.

Sometimes, you wished he would stop being so…. himself. He made it far too easy to fall in love with him, and even more difficult to fall back out. Times like these, you wanted nothing more than to grab his cheeks and press a kiss to his lips; to have him freeze in surprise before relaxing into your hold, kissing you back with as much love and passion as you felt towards him.

The events from earlier today replay in your head like a scene from a movie, nervous butterflies erupting in your stomach every time you remember that the sweater you’re still wearing is Hoseok’s. Although you parted ways a few hours ago, the boy had insisted on you wearing it home, telling you that you could just give it back to him the next time you saw each other. (You’d be perfectly happy if he allowed you to keep it forever.)

Right now, you’re sitting on your couch, procrastinating your post-dinner shower as you watch an episode of Friends. It isn’t that you don’t like showering– you just don’t want to have to take off the sweater. It’s pathetic, but it’s the truth.

Before you know it, the episode ends, and you’re forced to leave the comfort of your personalized couch dent. Not wanting to risk anything happening to the creamy white color of the sweater, you reach down to take it off and lay it on the edge of your couch. But when you pull it over your head, something tumbles out and falls onto the soft cushions below.

Hoseok’s MP3 player.

The sight of it makes your heart flutter. Despite owning his own dance studio with a top-notch sound system, occasionally, Hoseok will plug his headphones into an MP3 player and dance to the music playing through the small device. He only uses it when he’s feeling particularly emotional; he insists that the nostalgic feeling of using the small device while he dances calms him.

When you reach down to pick it up, the small screen turns on. You try not to make a habit of snooping into other people’s private lives– you’d die if someone found your diary– but when you notice that the currently selected playlist is titled as your name, your curiosity is piqued. Using your thumb to cycle through the songs, you can feel your heart beat faster with each and every title you read. This music isn’t the hip-hop that you know Hoseok normally freestyles to when he’s stressed.

They’re all love songs.

You hit play. Soft music begins to tinkle into your ears, and the mental image of Hobi freestyling to the soulful songs on the playlist while he thinks of you is enough to bring you to tears. You sit down on the couch and grab a throw pillow to clutch between your arms, squeezing it for dear life as you sob tears of joy. Your heart has never felt so full.

Hoseok listens to these lyrics and thinks of you.

You spend the next hour and a half crying to yourself as you listen through the playlist in its entirety. Every song manages to bring a fresh wave of tears to your eyes, and by the time the playlist ends and the music goes silent, you’re sure you’re seriously dehydrated. But none of that matters, because what you just heard– it’s confirmation that Hoseok feels the same way about you that you do for him.

At first, you aren’t sure how you’re going to bring it up to him. How do you tell someone that you know they’re in love with you because you were snooping through their playlists on the MP3 player they left in the sweater they lended to you? But then it hits you.

You should make him a playlist in return.

It takes you quite a bit of googling to figure out how to download songs onto the practically ancient device, but after some trial and error, you manage to put the musical translation of your feelings for Hobi onto a playlist titled “Hoseokie <3”. All that’s left to do is give it to him.

When you arrive at the studio the next day, you’re nearly shaking with nerves as you stand in the hallway outside of his classroom. What if you misinterpreted the meaning of the playlist? What if Hoseok didn’t actually like you romantically? What if he had his sights set on someone else? You recall him saying he was getting closer with a girl from his chemistry class named Heather.

But before you can back out and pretend like nothing ever happened, Hobi throws the door open, eyes widening when they land on your figure.

“Y/N?” he asks, frowning a little bit when he sees your nearly-terrified expression, “What’re you doing here? Is everything okay?”

“I– You– Well, it’s just that–” You cut yourself off with a gulp before digging through your pocket to locate the MP3 player. The earbuds are neatly wrapped around the device when you extend your hand out to hand it to him.

It takes him a moment to recognize what it is, but when he does, his ears immediately begin to turn red. “Did– did you listen to any of my, um, playlists?” he asks nervously, holding back a shudder when his fingers brush against yours as he takes the device from your hands. He immediately begins to panic when you nod yes wordlessly. “I-I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you, I just didn’t want to ruin our friendship, and I know that you probably don’t feel the same way–”

His rambling is cut off when your arms wrap around his neck and you smash your lips against his. He stays frozen for a moment before kissing you back with just as much fervor, heart just about ready to beat out of his chest. The kiss is messy, needy, and hungry, but it’s perfect nonetheless– and better than you ever could’ve imagined.

When you finally pull away, his cheeks are flushed, a heart-shaped grin spreading on his face as he stares down at you. You press a finger to his kiss-swollen lips to silence him when he opens his mouth to speak.

“I made something for you,” you smile while reaching out to unwrap the earbuds from the MP3 player. He lets you place one in his ear while you place the other in your own, reaching down to press play on the playlist you created before wrapping your arms around his waist and laying your head on his chest.

The soft music playing perfectly matches the beat of his heart under your ear, and when you feel his chest begin to shake from crying, you squeeze him just a little bit tighter.

Can I go where you go? Can we always be this close forever and ever? And ah, take me out, and take me home You're my, my, my, my lover

© ughseoks 2020, all rights reserved. do NOT modify, translate, or repost my works. modification, translations, and/or redistribution of my works on any platform is strictly prohibited.

#bhqdrabbles #bangtanhq #hoseok x reader #hobi x reader #bts x reader #hoseok fluff #bts fluff #bts drabble #hoseok drabble

[destinys-dragon]

A Battle for All

Characters: Patton, Logan, Roman, Remus, Janus, Virgil

For: @littlebigmouse

Warnings: Gore, Extreme Gore, Unsympathetic Patton, Unsympathetic Janus, Unsympathetic Logan, Major Character Death, Betrayal, Body horror/gore

Words: 2,500

Hey Mouse, Merry Christmas & Happy New Year! I was your gifter this year for the @sanderssidesgiftxchange and I gave you a super hero Au with a side of gore [Or rather a main course of gore] I hope you enjoy it!

This was it, the battle for all the marbles, or as Morality said, "All the cookies in the cookie jar." Whatever you wanted to call it, this was the most important battle. Here and now, would decide the fate of the world. Sure, you hear that in all the superhero movies to get the action and the thrill up, even if the heroes always win in the movies. This though, this was very, very real, and all the heroes could feel a deep fear fill them. It wouldn't stop them from protecting the entire world, and they would do everything to make sure that the world was saved. It was still an unsettling feeling, to be staring potential death straight in the face, your future becoming less clear by the second.

Sanders University, the place they were meant to defend, held the key to world domination, at least to the Troublesome Twosome that was Deceit and Logic. The university was famous for its advanced technology, some of which could give normal humans pseudo-Superpowers, putting them on an even playing field with natural born Supers. The Twosome's plan was to engineer as much superpowered technology as possible, to create an army of villains that would help them conquer the entire world. First they would start with the University itself, but with how much super-tech was in there already, they wouldn't have trouble building a small army to defend it while they work on bigger projects.

The Prince stood on one end and the Duke on the other. In between them stood Anxiety and Morality, their healer and shield respectively. The Duke was holding a thunderbolt in one hand, preparing to throw it should the villains pull any tricks. Prince was holding a pen in his hand, preparing to draw up a weapon or something that would protect them. Anxiety had his hand out, ready to heal the team and get them back to the fight. Morality was empty handed at the moment, giving the villains a smile as if they were just naïve children instead of people bent on world domination.

"Now kiddos," Morality started, holding his arms out in a gesture of peace. "We really don't have to fight today. If you would just willingly come with us we can help you," he assured, making sure his voice would sound even and calming. "Please, don't do this. It would only end in disaster and chaos for everyone, including you two."

Deceit chuckled quietly, which cued Logic to break out in maniacal laughter. Morality cringed and even the Duke shuddered, which was uncommon since he was rather creepy in his own right. Prince and Anxiety looked unamused, even if Anxiety's hand fell to his side, where a short sword, crafted specifically for him by Prince, rested on his hip.

"Oh Morality, darling~" Deceit purred, elbowing his laughing companion in the stomach, who wheezed and went silent, rubbing his stomach as if that would make the pain go away. "That's exactly what we want. Chaos and disaster are what will help us take over this worthless world. Soon, oh so soon we will rule and you will be powerless to stop us! Now, get out of our way and we may spare your lives, if you beg that is." He waved his arm in a big gesture to the building behind the trio of heroes, the one that held the key to their dream.

"Never!" Prince snarled, a sword held in his hands. "We shall never let you get past any of us! We will put our lives on the line to protect the world we love! You'll never win, so give up now and walk away!"

That made Deceit laugh again, wiping a tear from his eye with a gloved hand. "Oh Prince, foolish fool, you will be made to eat your words. I can assure you of that. Logic, if you will."

Logic stepped forward, snickering as he pulled out a remote with a single, red button. He pressed it, causing a dozen cars to crumble and meld together. After a few seconds a giant metal golem stood behind the Duo. Logic cackled, covering his mouth as he snorted. "Be-ha- prepared to meet m-my greatest creation to date, the car golem!" He announced, pointing forward. "Go! Wreck, maim, DESTROY!" He shrieked, doubling over with laughter.

The golem seemed to come to life, surging forward towards the heroes. It was coming fast, intent on ending the battle and the heroes once and for all. It had no mind, no heart, no soul. It had a purpose though, a sole purpose it was destined to complete. End the heroes and leave not even a single one standing.

Morality stepped in front of everyone and summoned a giant dome shield, covering all four of them. Prince and Duke stood behind Patton, while Anxiety put all his energy and focus into keeping Morality's shield strong, which meant using all he had to heal it.

"When I lower the shield go for the weak spots in it's limbs!" Morality shouted, crying out when the Golem pounded on the shield, putting a giant crack in it. They all heard Anxiety let out a sharp exhale, slowly forcing the crack to close. "Damage the legs and arms, rendering it useless!"

"Yes Sir!" "Yes Daddy!" The twins spoke in unison. Morality couldn't help hide an eyeroll at the Duke, but now was not the time to lecture him on his inappropriateness.

"Ready?" He asked, taking a breath. "GO!" He cried out, forcing the shield to burst outward, which made the golem fall back. Morality fell back at the force he used to push the golem back, Anxiety quick to Morality's side to heal him and boost his energy.

The second the shield went down, Prince took towards the right and Duke went left. They were in perfect sync, each summoning their sacred weapons, a paintbrush and a bolt of lightning respectively, charging forward and removing it's limbs.

Prince let out a loud cry, circling around the golem and fleeing the scene. The circle glowed green and vines, flowers, and even tree branches sprouted around it, quickly tying the golem up. The thing let out a loud, metallic screeching noise of distress, before the Duke acted.

He took the precious time where the golem was immobilized and used the pulsing thunderbolt in his hands to slice and dice it's arms and one leg off. The golem continued to shriek and cry out, thrashing around with it's one leg, until Morality came through.

He had moved forward, leaving Anxiety in the back to watch their back. He summoned a small shield, one that was a simple circular shape, save for the spikey thorns and notches in it. He threw it as hard as he could, watching as the killer frisbee cut halfway through a leg, rendering it a mostly useless, twitching lump to the golem.

It continued to try and get to the heroes, but it only managed to flop around uselessly. It was rather useless, slowly going still as it died.

"Fuck yeah!" Duke cheered, before letting out a choked cry as a large snake plunged through his chest. His eyes went wide and he coughed out a sickening mixture of spit and blood, slowly going down on his knees. He reached out, as if to beg for help, his body going still as the snake again plunged through him, tearing his throat in half. His mouth was moving as if attempting to speak, before he fell face down, poised in a silent scream.

Deceit stood behind him, wiping his gloves with a white cloth. It was covered in a layer of blood, but the cloth cleaned the majority off. He tossed it on the corpse, looking at the heroes, who were looking at them in a mixture of shock, fear, and horror.

It was broken as Morality let out an ear piercing shriek, followed by Prince crying out in absolute anguish.

"Remus!" He shrieked, struggling to breath and looking like he was moments away from fainting. "Oh gods, Jesus god WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU!?" He cried out, Patton's shrieking sobs becoming a dull noise to him as his rage filled. "I'LL FUCKING KILL YOU!"

He charged forward, unaware that the Golem was sliding painfully slowly towards Patton. He continued moving towards Janus, aiming punch after punch, kick after kick at the monster who murdered his brother. Deceit only dodged out of the way, not even bother to strike him.

Eventually, he ducked behind Prince, sweeping his legs out from under him. "Oh dear Princey, don't worry, you'll see him soon,"  Deceit purred, stomping on the hero's back, relishing in his shrieks of pain. "But look, here." He bent down, grabbing Prince by the hair and pulling his head up to make him look towards Morality.

Morality was on his knees sobbing. The golem was squirming closed to him, using it's half destroyed leg to slowly roll itself over. Roman was shrieking and begging Morality to do something, only to watch as Anxiety sailed past him, sprinting like his life depended on it. "No Virgil stop!" He begged, not wanting to lose two friends and his brother, he wasn't sure if his heart could take it.

Roman could only watch in horror as Virgil shoved Morality, the golem landing on top of the healer, crushing him to death. Roman let out a scream of pure anguish just as Logic began cackling with glee. He couldn't see Morality from behind the golem, but he was so sure that both of them were dead.

Logic danced around, watching the golem start to become consumed by rust. After it was fully rusted, it broke apart into dust, falling to the ground in large, clumpy piles. Even the limbs that were cut off were turned to dust as well. And Virgil? He was laying on the ground, flattened into a bloody clump of human and clothes. The lump didn't even look remotely human, but Prince found he couldn't look away, and he was glad he didn't.

There, next to what was Virgil, was Morality. He was alive and well, Roman hadn't lost everything! He went to call out, only to watch as Morality spit on Virgil's remains, climbing to his feet. "God, I can't believe he was that stupid. Though I suppose his foolish need to jump into bravery was admirable," he commented, brushing himself off. He reached down and grabbed something off of Virgil's remains, but Roman couldn't tell what it was.

Morality walked slowly, painfully slowly, over to Roman, who was confused. He let out a cry when his hair was let go and his face met painfully with the pavement. He ended up biting down on his tongue on the way down, causing his mouth to fill with a metallic tasting liquid. Blood, he thought distantly, but he wasn't able to comprehend it with how quickly his brain was shutting down.

He was rolled over, coming face to face with Morality. "P-Patton?" he croaked out, spitting up a glob of blood that got onto his pure white suit, or a suit that had been pure white. Now it was caked in dirty, boot prints, and even his own blood.

"Oh Princey, sweet sweet Roman," He cooed, brushing his thumb over Roman's cheek. "You're an absolute fool." Patton slowly held up the short sword, Virgil's short sword, pressing it against Roman's throat. He let out a soft whimper, unable to stop the noise from leaving his lips.

"Why?" He choked out, spitting a glob of blood onto Patton's suit. He saw his leader, former leader, cringe but shrug it off after a moment.

"I'm so tired of being treated like the innocent little healer on your team. I can't tell you how many times you've just left me to get captured, used me as bait...you even used me as a human shield once or twice instead of our actual shield, the guy who can make them out of thin air." He grabbed Roman by the chin, forcing the hero to meet his eyes. "I'm not meant to be bait or a human punching bag to protect you selfish lot. I am my own powerful person, stronger and better than all three of you worthless buffoons. I may have been your leader, but I was treated like trash by all three of you. But now....now that won't happen ever again!" Patton chirped, a bright cheery, but equally eerie, smile on his face.

Roman heard Deceit chuckle, looking away from Patton to watch as the villain walked towards the university, Logic right on his heels. He watched as Logic's lips moved quickly, mostly likely talking about whatever wicked plans he wanted to try on poor unsuspecting people.

"Don't take too long, darling!" Deceit called, loud enough for the pair to hear. “We need to get our plans into motion, we've already been set back quite a bit."

"Yes Deceit, I understand," Patton assured, looking back at Roman, who was petrified with fear. "I'm so sorry Roman, but this is your final scene. The curtains have been called and your act is through," he whispered, plunging the knife deep into Roman's chest.

Roman coughed up blood, reaching with one hand to try and pull it out to no avail.

Patton looked rather bored, but delighted at the same time. "This is goodbye Roman, I can't say I'll miss you or any of the others." He gave Roman a big smile, his deep brown eyes looking more golden as he twisted the knife that was lodged in Roman's chest, twisting it to cut deeper into the hero's body.

He felt Roman slowly going limp, the last few strings that he used to cling to life snapping as he let out his final breath. Patton shuddered in pleasure as he felt the man's last breath tickle his neck. He felt a rush, a thrill, he felt almost drunk on this feeling. He let a small grin cross his features, cackling as he pushed the corpse off him. Rising to his feet he felt a need, a deep hunger for more. He wanted more, he needed more of this feeling.

Patton licked his lips, groaning as the few stray drops of Roman's blood hit his taste buds. That felt good. So very, very good.

He brushed himself off, walking towards the University with a smile on his face. He had a mission after all, and world domination sounded just as glorious as crushing these pitiful heroes. Maybe more would come to play with them, that would be fun. If he were lucky, Deceit would let him keep one as a treat, a very special one just for him. Patton had to prove himself, and now that he was seen as an equal, he was never going to disappoint Deceit. He was going to show he earned his spot, and earn his spot he would.

#unsympathetic patton #unsympathetic janus #unsympathetic logan #sympathetic remus #tw major character death #major character death #major character injury #gore #extreme gore #patton sanders #logan sanders #virgil sanders #roman sanders #remus sanders #janus sanders #deceit sanders #unsympathetic deceit #dessy writes