#he's the baby he should NOT be getting this tall it's clearly a sign of disrespect towards his elders and JON STOP LAUGHING AT ME-

[gazpachoandbooks]

Theon in the not-so-distant future:

#rickon surpasses arya and it's funny then #he gets taller than jon and sansa and theon's having the time of his life #but then he surpasses bran who is actually quite tall when not in his chair and theon begins getting nervous #one day rickon comes up to him and just casually swings his arm around his shoulders with ease and now theon is properly terrified #half of his smuggery comes from his height alone i just know it #this is a real valid concern of his #he's the baby he should NOT be getting this tall it's clearly a sign of disrespect towards his elders and JON STOP LAUGHING AT ME- #my squid son #theon greyjoy #rickon stark #theon and rickon #starklings #asoiaf

[syddsatyrn]

Omg your requests are open. I've seen some of your work and it's amazing❤️

Can you do a smut with Lucifer. He's become my new obsession.

⛧Idle Time is the Devil's Play⛧ By Sydd Satyrn

⛧Pairing: - Lucifer Morningstar x Reader

⛧Warnings: Shameless smut, fingering, swearing, fluff

⛧Words: 2.5k

⛧Notes: This was actually rather fun to write, thank you for the request! My head canon in this one is that Lucifer wears reading glasses.

The day started out on the wrong foot from the second you woke up. The dishes are piled up, laundry needs to be done, and how is there so much dust in here?! Nifty does her best to keep up but she's only one tiny person. You begin with the dishes, stack and stacks of plates and bowls, cups and flatware cover the counter. You let out a sigh of disappointment. After working for a short while, Angel Dust walks in with a surprised look on his face. “I thought you were dating the King of Hell, why are you wasting your time with chores?” The tall spider asks, holding a stack of dishes from his room. “Angel, I work here. I don't know how many times I have to tell you…” You reply with an eye roll. “Yeah, yeah, Charlie’s dreams, blah, blah, motherly nonsense. I’m just sayin’ you could totally slack off and get away with it.” He says, placing more dishes on the counter. You give him a side eye, and Angel laughs. “Chill out toots, I’m just playin’.” He says and heads back to his room. He’s right, you could slack off if you wanted to, but you felt the need to try for Charlie. You and Lucifer have been dating for a little over 6 months and within that time you’ve become rather fond of his sweet daughter and her dreams to rehabilitate sinners. So you took on a role at the hotel and did what you could to help make it possible. You wanted to impress Lucifer's daughter, maybe one day she might even see you as family, if you’re lucky.  You finally finish the dishes and take a step back and admire your handiwork. A clean sink, and counters, all the dirty dishes are now washed, dried and put away. It took a good chunk of the morning but it was worth it. The kitchen looks spotless and you decide to move onto the next chore. You tidied a few empty rooms and then delivered clean towels to each room with an occupant. You’re already running out of energy and it's only noon. “You look like you could use some coffee.” Husk says from behind the bar while wiping down the countertops. “You read my mind, Husker.” You say and take a seat at the bar. He pours you a cup of black coffee and sets it in front of you. “Thank you, you have no idea how much I need this.” “Don’t mention it” He says and returns to his countertops. Husk may seem grumpy all the time but you’ve come to know him as a rather genuine and helpful person.

You drink your coffee slowly and contemplate what you should do next. There are so many chores that need to be done, where should you even start? Nifty should be cleaning the bathrooms or taking out the trash by now. You decide to start dusting next, it shouldn't be too hard. 

After dusting the common areas, you begin on the hallways. You start at the top floor and work your way down. You hum quietly to yourself while wiping the window sills. As you turn a corner, you run into Angel Dust, and spill dusting spray all over his jacket. “Shit!” He says while wiping his jacked off with his hand, Angel looks frantic and upset, you’ve never seen him so scared. “I’m so sorry! Are you okay?!” You immediately apologize. “Y/N, I can't find Fat Nuggets anywhere! I took my eyes off of him for one second and he disappeared! My poor baby!” Angel says, clearly in a state. He looks like he might even cry. It’s gonna be okay, we just…need to split up! I’ll head downstairs and you stay up here.”You say, trying to remain calm. Angel nods, and you both go your separate ways.

You search all the rooms on the first and second floor, the lobby, the bar, and even the basement. There is no sign of the little pig. You were sure you would find him rooting around somewhere in the kitchen but still, no Fat Nuggets. You notice the back door is slightly ajar, you definitely didn’t use that door when you were down here earlier. You open it, expecting to have solved the mystery, but still nothing. You lean against the wall and let out a defeated sigh. “Dammit, Fat Nuggets, where are you?” You say out loud. Suddenly there is a rustlin noise inside a tipped over trash can. You lift the lid and inside is a very happy looking little pig. You scoop him up and give him a big hug, he must have gottens stuck out there looking for a snack. As you carry Fat Nuggets upstairs you hear a shriek of joy coming from Angel Dust. “My baby!” He cries as you hand him over. “Don't you ever leave my side again!” He says, baby talking to the little pig while giving him a snuggle. “I owe you one, Y/N.” Angel says with a smile. “Dont worry about it, I’m just happy we found the little guy.” You gently boop the little pig’s nose. —------------ As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting hues of pink and orange across the sky, a sense of tranquility settled over the hotel. The warm glow of the fading sunlight painted the walls in soft, golden hues made the place feel somewhat serene. Finding Fat Nuggets took up the rest of your afternoon and you were feeling unusually exhausted. 

 You head down to the lobby and see Nifty cleaning up the last of the dusting you did earlier.

She greets you as usual. “Good Evening, Miss Y/N! How was your day?” She pauses her cleaning and stares up at you with her single cyclops eye. “I am so worn out, Nifty. How are you?” You return, smiling down at her tiny figure.

“I’m okay. There aren't as many bugs in the hotel to squish anymore so I’m getting pretty bored.” You smile at her, Not entirely sure how to respond to that statement. She always says the wildest stuff, but you’re used to it. Alastor says she's always been pretty quirky. “You should go spend time with your boyfriend.” Nifty teases,”I’ll deal with the rest of the chores.” “Thank you, I could really use a break. Today was a mess.” You say with a sigh of relief. After walking down the long, lavish hallway to Lucifer's room. You open the door slowly, you don't want to wake him if he is asleep. The King is already in bed wearing nothing but a robe and his reading glasses. The lamp next on the bedside table is the only source of light in the room. The blonde haired man is reading a book and glances over at you when he hears you come in. “I was wondering when you’d be here.” He says with a smile on his face. He closes his book and sets it on the nightstand along with his gold rimmed glasses. “Sorry I’m late, I’ve had a really long day.” You admit as you sit on the edge of the bed. “Oh? What did you get up to today?” He asks and crawls toward you. “There was a lot to do around the hotel today, a mountain of dishes and so much cleaning. Like seriously, where does all this dust come from?! Then Angel lost Fat Nuggets and he was outside…” You ramble on and Lucifer listens intently. “Fat Nuggets?” Lucifer chuckles and cocks his head to the side. “His pet pig.” You remind him. “Oh, I see…” Lucifer places his hand on your cheek. His warm touch sends shivers down your spine. He pulls your face closer and kisses your lips gently. Your heart flutters and you kiss him back, blushing slightly.

“Well, I’m glad you’re here now.” Lucifer laughs, knowing exactly what he's doing to you. “Sounds like you need some time off. I notice you do a lot around here, you shouldn’t wear yourself out like that.” “I just want to show Charlie that I support her dream and believe in her.” Your words make Lucifer’s heart swell, the fact that you are trying so hard to impress his daughter is quite possibly the cutest thing he’s ever seen. He smiles at you, his expression full of love and admiration. You return his smile, your face bright red. He pulls you in for a tight hug, burying his face into your hair. “You’re doing just fine, my love. You can let up a little.” He whispers in your ear, “You should let me take care of you for a couple days.” Lucifer's voice is sticky sweet, you can see why Eve was so easily swayed. You melt into his arms and he kisses the top of your head. “I know exactly what you need…” Lucifer days, his voice laced with a mischievous tone. “Do you…?” You ask and giggle at his bold statement. He reluctantly lets go of you and takes off to the bathroom connected to his room. You can hear him turn on the faucet to fill up the tub. Lucifer walks out of the bathroom a few minutes later, he grabs your hand and pulls you close, his eyes half lidded. He kisses your cheek and wraps his arm around your shoulder. “Come with me, my dear.” He leads you to the bathroom, the tub is filled about half way with warm water. The room is filling with steam and the lights are low, a few candles are lit. The ambiance is warm and charming just like he is. Your eyes widen and you feel Lucifer hands tug at your clothes, silently telling you to take them off. Your face feels hot as you start to remove your clothing, piece by piece. You leave them in a pile on the floor, trying your best to keep your composure. “I have to admit I wasn’t expecting this…” You say, Lucifer smirks, pleased with himself and your reactions. He removes his robe, revealing his perfect body. He steps into the tub and turns to you.

"Well, are you coming or not?" He teases, you take his hand and slowly get in the tub with him. He sits behind you and wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you just a bit closer. Together, you both leaned back against the edge of the tub, letting the warmth of the water soothe your weary muscles. The stress of the day melted away, you could feel your muscles relax, you lean the back of your head on his shoulder, breathing him in.

"See? Isn't this much better?" Lucifer purrs in your ear.  

You nod and let your eyes close. You can feel him kiss your temple and you can't help but smile. “I definitely needed this…”You murmured, Lucifer's hands begin to roam your body, his hands trace down your arms. 

"You have the most beautiful skin...I can't help but touch it." He whispers and kisses your neck, you sigh softly. "And you always smell like vanilla, I adore that..."

“You flatter me, Lucifer.” You reply. He kisses the back of your neck, sending a shiver down your spine. His hands begin to massage your shoulders, "Are you cold?" He asks, noticing the goosebumps forming on your skin. With gentle hands, his fingertips traced delicate patterns along the contours of your skin. In the hushed ambiance, time seemed to slow, as if caught in the embrace of the moment. “No, I’m fine.” You assure him.” You’re just really good with your hands.” “Is that so?” Lucifer says with a playful tone. He can barely contain himself, the way your body responds to his touch is fascinating to him. Lucifer's hands travel lower down your torso and gently cup your breasts. You hum softly and push your body closer to his.

"My, you're a needy one tonight, aren't you?" He chuckles and runs his thumbs over your nipples. "I think I know exactly how to help you." His hands travel lower and lower until they reach your core. Your breath hitches and your face turns a bright shade of red and Lucifer notices. "Is that okay, my love?" He asks, making sure he's not overstepping his bounds.

"Y-yes, it's more than okay.”

Lucifer's fingers explore your folds, teasing and prodding. His movements are slow and deliberate, as if he's trying to memorize every inch of your body. You gasp as he enters a finger into you. You moan softly and your back slightly arches. "That's it, my love, just let go, let me take care of you." The King’s tone is lustful and alluring. Lucifer adds a second finger and starts thrusting in and out, his thumb rubs your clit. He moves his fingers faster and harder. “Luci…fuck…” You swear followed by another moan, the pleasure is overwhelming. You can feel him smile against your skin, his hand working wonders between your thighs. You bite your lip and whimper, gripping the edge of the tub. Lucifer bites the tip of your ear and quickens his pace. “That’s it my dear, are you gonna cum for me?” Lucifer groans and pushes his fingers deeper inside you. You let out a whimper, a feeling of warmth growing deep within your core. Between the steam from the bathtub and all the stimulation you start to feel a little dizzy. Lucifer groans and buries his face into the crook of your neck. He focuses back on your clit, his middle finger massaging little circles, picking up speed with each second that passes. You can't stop the moans from escaping your mouth, the pleasure is too much. You can't hold back any longer and your body is rocked with wave after wave of pleasure. Lucifer's fingers move slower, helping you ride out the waves of your orgasm. Your chest rises and falls rapidly, your face is bright red. Lucifer pulls his fingers out and wraps his arms around you, hugging you tight.

"Are you alright?" He asks, kissing your neck. You nod and completely relax into Lucifer's body. You lay in the bathtub together, his fingers caress your arm, he presses another kiss to your temple.

"I think it's time you got some rest." He says, barely above a whisper. You both get out of the tub and Lucifer wraps a towel around you.

"You're absolutely perfect." He says with a grin and kisses your nose. You smile at him, continue to dry off and wrap your hair in a towel. Lucifer loans you a pair of his silk pajamas, they are just slightly too big for you. But all that does is add to how comfortable they are. You lay in bed next to him, the covers pulled over your shoulders. He pulls you close and runs his fingers through your hair.

"So, tomorrow you will do no chores, no errands, just relax and take it easy.” He says, with a slightly demanding tone. You lay your head down on his bare chest and he picks up his book. “Yes sir…no chores…” You murmured against his skin. “He chuckles, "Good girl. That's what I like to hear.” He praises while putting his glasses back on. You're exhausted from the day and can barely keep your eyes open. Before long, you fall asleep in the arms of your love, ready for a trouble free day tomorrow. 

#hazbin hotel #lucifer x y/n #lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer x reader #lucifer fanfiction #lucifer smut #hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer morningstar #hazbin hotel lucifer x reader #hazbin lucifer #lucifer #hazbin hotel smut #hazbin hotel fanfiction #syddanswersasks

[dungeonpuppykai]

Pairing: Soft Dom bf!Pedri | Tall brat gf!You. 

Warning(s): D/s dynamics, power imbalance, light manhandling, stern Pedri, Daddy kink, allusion to spanking, Pedri puts reader in her place in a rather sfw way atypical to me. Please do not read if this isn't your cup of tea. Do not repost my works in any way, or use my ideas without permission. Minors do not interact. 

Pedri raises an amused, perfectly shaped eyebrow at your little act of defiance. He has to crane his neck upwards to look at you from his half turned position a few steps away from you. 

"I am sorry, what was that?" It's a rhetorical question but he understands that you're just a silly little baby who never really thinks her words or actions through at first. 

He has to spell everything out for you. 

Your cheeks are puffed as you pout down at him, protestant arms crossed over your chest. "You heard me!" You think that you have really done something with this, but when your boyfriend doesn't budge, you start getting restless and fussier. 

It's really hard to hold his eyes in situations where he's clearly unhappy with you. 

Well, so what?!

You are also very displeased with him!

Pedri slowly slithers in a frustrated sigh when some of the staff and other customers in the bookstore start to stare at the scene you're causing. He is still only half turned to look at you when he speaks. 

"Put it down, mi cariño~" your eyes roll despite his open dislike towards the action and a dramatic huff escapes you. 

"I've no idea what you mean!" The louder your voice gets with each word, the more his jaw tightens. 

Now you're just asking to be pulled across his knee. 

"Should I come and look, mi vida?" The sweet endearments are a sign. You are digging your own grave. 

But alas, you're just a dumb little brat, aren't you? 

You nearly waver at that and he has to bite back his smirk. You're wrapped around his fingers and he knows it. Just a fiddle for him to play as he sees fit.

"I- I…" You gulp as you rake your mind for the appropriate words but images of how he'd look if he did approach you are already flooding your mind. 

"Yes, mi corazón, you?" Despite the difference in your heights, he always manages to make you feel like the smallest little thing ever. 

You nearly falter, his sweet tone almost lulling you into caving but then your fingers subconsciously tighten around the book and you can't help but snap back into brat mode. 

"No!" Pedri is in disbelief at your audacity. The way both his eyebrows raise is proof. "I am NOT leaving without this!" And the book that you had stashed in your fluffy coat finally sees the light of the bookstore when you pull it off. 

It isn't about the money. 

Your boyfriend sighs under his breath. "Bunny, you chose the three we will buy today yourself. When you finish them, we will come back here and get that one for you" he half nods in the direction of the book. 

It is about discipline and order. 

"But I want it NOW!" Pedri nods as if understandingly. 

"Okay, so here is what's going to happen" folding the arm so he can hold the three books you had chosen for this haul up to you, he speaks in an unimpressed tone. "You are either going to put it down and be grateful for these three" he held his free hand out to you. "Or we will go home with nothing but a sorry brat" and suddenly, you're in a dilemma. 

He seriously didn't! 

"B- But…" You are conflicted.

"Five seconds, bunny" his eyes find the huge wall clock. 

You panic at first but then your eyebrows furrow again when you gaze at the book again. Your nose flares and you square your jaw, ready to stand your ground. 

But then…

Pedri lets out a sigh and nods to him, turning to put the books away. "Alright" your legs move faster than your mind and you nearly toss the book you're holding who knows where. 

"I am here, okay, I am here!" You clutch the hand he had held out for you desperately, whimpering and whining as you push your body into his. 

The look he gives you is enough to make your cheeks flush as you duck your head to nuzzle your face in his shoulder, muttering out apologies.

"What do we say when we act like an ungrateful brat?" You pout as you toy with the collar of his coat. 

"S- Sorry…" You are a stranger to your prior volume. 

"Sorry, what?" Before he pulls you away and makes you whine. "Say it properly" he keeps you still and unbudging by a hold on your forearm, nonchalant to your grabby hands.

You're forced to lower your head at the end and whimper out an, "I am s- sorry, Daddy…" He keeps you there to let you bask in your littleness for a good few moments before he releases you and makes his way to the counter. 

You follow closely behind, a bunch of his coat crumpled up in the fist you hold it with. As Pedri takes care of the payment and packing up of your shopping, you stare at your feet and wait for him. When he's done and you're exiting the store, you want to hold your new possessions but he hovers them above your eager hands. 

You need a maintenance session it seems. Since you keep forgetting all of your manners lately. 

"Oh!" You gasp when you realize your mistake. "Thank you, Daddy" and you have to kiss his cheek to express your gratitude, of course. 

Pedri hums in satisfaction as he finally lets you hold them, fishing out his car keys and unlocking the luxurious car with a beep. 

"Since you have lost ice cream privileges, we will go home now" your bottom lip juts out. "And how you behave in the next few moments…" A gasp leaves you when he reaches for your nape and uses it to push you closer to him and the car. "Will determine whether that pretty little butt will be blushing before the night ends or not."

MASTERLIST 

.

I've nothing to say except that I wish a speedy recovery to my Barca bofi <3

#pedri #pedri gonzalez #pedri smut #pedri fluff #pedri x reader #pedri x you #pedri x y/n #pedri fanfic #pedri imagine #fc barcelona #pedri barça #pedri blurb

[theloveinc]

bakugo x reader - i guess a lil drabble related to my succession!au here! caitie writing? it's more........ no jk im just as surprised as you...

(warning - toxic relationships, sex as business tactic, you wear a thong but gn otherwise i think, made up business lingo idfk)

-

You’re already waiting for him by the time Bakugo makes it back to his office. 

Blazer off and strewn across the arm of the leather armchair you lean against, fingernails clacking away as you type a message on your phone; you look busy, you look sexy, you look mad, though he already knows why you’re here and you waste no time either in looking up from your device to absolutely scour. 

 “Fuckin' what?” he grumbles, throwing his own jacket and stack of files next to yours, refusing to give in to the thought of looking into your eyes, something he knows will cause more of a fire to light up in his veins rather than put him into a business-like mood.

“You said no.” 

“‘Course I did," he responds before you can say anything else. "Your write-up was crap, and I don’t feel like wasting time entertaining unnecessary shit.” 

“It’s a good plan. Would make up the public outburst you had that tanked our stock fifteen percent. You and I both know that.” 

He does, but he doesn't care enough to risk another move that might cause more harm than good. It's not like his sour personality is a secret from the business world or has stopped him from getting what he wanted in the past.

“If you care so much about it just go ‘n get Deku to approve it. Fuck knows all you do when I disagree with your stupid ass ideas is cry and get him to start signing shit, anyway."

“That is not true!” you hiss, one of Bakugo’s very-clearly-plucked eyebrows immediately raising at the annoyance in your voice. “My advice is great, and yeah, I do think you should take it sometimes.”

“It’s average at best and you fucking know it"—it's actually better than average, way better, it's just hard to say now that Deku's got top spot in the running for CEO, a fact that pisses Bakugo off so badly that he can't even think about your talent lest he lose his mind even more—"You’re just one of the board's little brats. Spoiled rotten.” 

You purse your lips at that, eyes narrowing as he stands up tall. “Like you’re any better. Getting mommy to call competitors anytime one of your shitty deals doesn’t go through.”

He approaches you, hands leaving his pockets as he walks you back into his desk—your ass meeting the oak just as he begins unlocking his cuff links and pushing his sleeves up to the bend of his elbows. You stand there in silence, in faux-battle through your glares, though it’s not much longer before he puts his hands on your waist and jerks you to his chest. 

“Least I do my damn job instead of sucking dick on company time.”

(You don’t remind him that it was actually him on his knees the last time any inappropriate workplace intercourse occurred… nor that it was Kiri’s idea—not yours—to screw your way into Yo Shindo’s board of investors. He already started a fight the first time it came up, lord knows he’d have an aneurysm if used it against him in an argument, too.) 

“Fine,” you wiggle your hips in an attempt to loosen the static between your bodies, but he only seems to get closer: the newly-tenting fly of his slacks digging into the soft dip of your own pants, instead. “Next time I’ll go ask Todoroki for advice then and you can work alone.”

He nips at you where his mouth presses against your cheek, hands splayed on your back to keep you from being pressed into the hard line of wood at your hips. You inhale at the contact, turning your face away from him if only to let his mouth fall next to your ear. 

“Talk to that half and half fucker in front of me, baby,” he whispers, “and you watch what fucking happens.” 

His fingers dip themselves into the band of your panties, tugging the elastic away from your skin in such a manner that the string of your thong gets pulled taut between your ass cheeks. 

“Bakugo…” you warn, pulling back to glare at him though simultaneously giving into the fight, your hands leaving your hips to swat his away from behind you before they’re allowed to do anything more lewd.

He huffs, though his chest rumbles in the most silent of laughs as he catches your palms in his, swinging them back around til he’s holding them between you at your front. 

“You’re such a damn tease,” he leans down close enough to touch his nose with yours, your breath warm and enticing on his lips. “Gimme a kiss for wasting my time.”

You roll your eyes. “No. I’m reporting you to HR.” 

“Like hell you are. Kiss me.” 

 “I’m gonna kiss Deku.” 

Hands still tangled with yours, he tears away for only a moment to fake a gag over his shoulder. 

“That’s even worse!”

"You deserve it."

And he doesn't exactly disagree.

#bakugou x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugo #ooga booga sfjailsdhflafhu iwiehfkjhdhfj adje *monkey noises* *banging on my cage* #the beginning is bad sorry i just hhad to add it to get to the dialogue #it made me want to switch directions to angsty but i already had everything written #anyway #caitie post #caitie things #gen #succession au

[take-taker-taken]

Hey there! How's everything going? I was just wondering if you could write a 1990 undertaker x fem!reader where he does his best to comfort her after walking in on her crying (that'd be a fun yet cute thing to read, plus, I've been going through some rough shit lately so taker was literally the first thing that came to my mind to help me cope)

Hi there, lovely anon and thank you for the ask! This idea was just so sweet - never written Baby!Taker before and I hope this makes you feel better, and that your situation improves in general.

Comfort

You dash down the wide hallway, tears blurring your vision; you’re so sick of your stupid boss! You’ve only been here a week and so you’re still learning your way around the arena and he thought it was funny to mock you in front of everyone about getting lost twice in one day. Honestly, all the hallways and doors look the same - just grey and blue everywhere! You turn a corner and go through the first door that you come to, relieved to find that it’s dark and quiet. You don’t bother switching the light on - it’s illuminated enough from an emergency exit sign over on the far side - just drop into a plastic chair and bury your face in your hands. You take a few deep, shuddering breaths as you try to bring your emotions under control but it’s useless and the sobs come in great waves, though you do your best to stifle them.

You’re not sure how long you sit there but the sound of the door opening brings you back to the present and you look around, gasping in shock at the sight that greets you. An impossibly tall figure fills the doorway, standing there in a hat and long black coat and your brain catches up and matches the figure to a poster you saw earlier when you were front of house. It’s one of the performers for the show tonight; a creepy-looking guy called The Undertaker. You notice that what looks like mist swirls around his feet and you swallow thickly before sniffing.

“The… The locker rooms are further along.” You say and then frown. “I think. I mean - maybe… oh, I don’t know.” Another wave of unhappiness descends, your bottom lip wobbles and the tears come again as you hide your face in embarrassment.

Rather than leaving the giant steps into the room, closes the door behind him and just stands there, watching. You look up, wiping your sleeve across your eyes.

“You’re sad.” The man’s voice is a monotone growl and you shift slightly in your seat as he moves closer. For an entertainer he’s not very gregarious - maybe he’s just trying to get into character for later.

“I-I’m OK. Just having a bad day.” You eye him nervously, watching the tails of his coat float in a non-existent breeze. You sniff again and then go very still as a huge gloved hand lands on your shoulder, lifts up and then comes down again. He’s … he’s patting your shoulder, but it’s entirely mechanical and a bit too heavy - as though he knows what to do, but not why he should do it. You roll your shoulder as you become aware that even through the gloves, his hand feels chilly and then you stand up before he leaves you bruised. Curious, you try to peer up under the brim of his hat in order to see his face more clearly. Two sharp eyes stare down at you and he grimaces slightly, seemingly uncomfortable with being looked at so keenly.

“It’s alright.” He says in that same flat tone and this time when his hand comes up you flinch slightly because it’s near your face and… oh. In the same automatic way as before, he starts to pat you on the head, the force squishing you down a bit each time. You allow it for a few moments and then reach up and catch his gloved hand in both of yours in an effort to save yourself from a concussion.

You hold on to his hand as you look up at him and you can’t help but smile at the endearing combination of cluelessness and well-meaning. He doesn’t smile back, but just tilts his head slightly as he stares down and you can see now that his eyes are green. He lifts the hand that you’re still holding on to and gestures to your face with it.

“You’re better.”

You let his hand go and nod, the smile still on your face. “I think I am, yes. Thank you.”

In a moment of inspiration you step closer and put your arms around his waist and give him a hug, pressing your face to his chest and leaving a stray tear on his wide necktie. You giggle slightly when as expected, his arms close around you in that mechanical fashion though he doesn’t squeeze. You stand like that for a good minute and you realise that if you don’t move, he’ll probably just remain. The thought is tempting but you still have work to do this evening and so you disengage from him.

“Thank you,” You say again. “That was really kind of you.”

“Welcome.” He replies, again demonstrating that he knows what societal niceties demand. He gives you a slow tip of his broad-rimmed hat and then in a swirl of coat tails and mist, he’s gone.

TTT

#the undertaker #undertaker #this character lives in my head rent free #wwe #wwf #the undertaker x reader #undertaker x reader #fanfiction #undertaker fanfic #the undertaker fanfic #TTT Tumblr Asks

[krillissue]

Forbidden Fruit

I took a look at my Vampire Vash and Vampire Wolfwood and thought, "Hey, I should write something with them together!" And then a friend jokingly suggested an X Reader so, here it is! A Vashpire/Vampwood crossover sandwich.

Reader uses he/him pronouns but I tried to keep everything vague (this is my first try at an x reader so please be kind) There is no use of y/n, I use instead nicknames (little lamb, sweetheart, darling, baby)

No major warnings, other than blood drinking and shady make outs in a dingy alley. There's gratuitous flirting, praise, slight possessiveness, mild public indecency, alcohol. 4K words

M for Mature content

It was a still night, the rain-soaked streets reflecting the streetlights and made anyone out scurry for cover. You ducked into a seedy-looking dive bar, the red neon sign by the door a fangy smile but no name you could see. Shaking out your damp hair, you take a glance around. The interior was dim with numerous neon signs shedding different-colored pools of light around the patrons. No one seemed to pay you mind as you slowly made your way to the bar, figuring you might as well get a drink while you wait out the rain and warm up. 

“What’ll it be?” The bartender was a stern redhead, her piercing blue eyes seeming to look straight through you. You search the chalked menu behind her, looking for anything that sounded good but there were too many options. You opened your mouth to order but a gruff voice cut you off before you could get a word out. 

“Don’t order off the specials, darlin’. You won’t like ‘em.” The man that had slid up next you was tall, dark, and handsome. You could smell his leather jacket and musky cologne even without the arm boxing you in. He was pressed close to your ear, leaning down to whisper. “What’s a lost little lamb like you doing in a place like this?” 

“Take it easy on him!” Another man took up position on your other side, this one blonde and smiling. “The poor thing probably just wanted out of the rain. Isn’t that right?” His blue eyes were hidden behind yellow shades but they were open and earnest. You trusted him a bit more than “dark and broody” beside you. 

“Yeah...do you have any recommendations?” Blondie gave you a sweet smile and it filled you with warmth but not to be ignored, you felt a rough finger trace lightly across the back of your neck. 

“Spikey always wants something sweet. Are you sweet, little lamb?” 

“That’s enough, Wolf. Back off.” The bartender shooed him off with a cold glare before her features softened towards you again. “I can mix you whatever you want. And we have beer on tap if that’s more your speed.” You nod, grateful to have some breathing room. The so-called Wolf was gorgeous in black leather and an open dark red shirt, most of his hairy chest on display. Being the target of his attention had set your heart racing like a frightened rabbit but you’d be lying if you said he wasn’t the sexiest man you’d ever seen. You ordered and took your drink to a small round table, just planning on people-watching. A particularly rowdy table near the back kept catching your attention, the group all yelling excitedly about something to an almost frenzied level. 

The longer you sat however, you noticed several patrons watching you back. Not all of them looked friendly. Curiously, Wolf and Blondie kept close but still gave you space, always in your periphery. It was starting to set your nerves on edge, everyone eyeing you like a piece of meat. 

“Can I sit with you?” Blondie was smiling still, pointing to the chair beside you. With the neon pink and blue lights on his pretty face you finally noticed, he had a nice smile. Why were these two gorgeous boys wanting to sit with you? They clearly knew each other but weren’t mixing with anyone else at the bar. It wasn’t exactly suspicion at their intentions giving you pause but something felt off. 

“If you want to. Your friend going to join us, too?” 

“He’s not so bad, is he?” He took his seat and smiled toothily, his own drink dangling by his fingertips. “My name is Vash, it’s nice to meet you.” What a weird name. You told him yours in return and took a sip, waiting for the looming shadow of the Wolf to appear. 

A large cool hand settled on the back of your neck, gently squeezing. It could only be one man getting so friendly with you. He leaned down over your shoulder to grin, his dark eyes mostly hidden behind his shades. Why were these two wearing sunglasses indoors and at night? 

“You looked lonely all by yourself, little lamb.” You stiffened at his presence behind your back but he moved to the seat on your other side, his posture relaxed and open. “You gotta be careful wandering into a place like this. Not everyone’s so friendly.” 

“Like you?” The alcohol gave you a boldness you wouldn’t normally possess but his cocky grin was starting to get under your skin. He chuckled, unphased. 

“You’ve got better chances with the wolves than these fine folks, I’ll tell ya that.” He took out a heavy silver lighter and started flipping it open and closed, the light catching on its shiny surface. You thought you’d smelled cigarette smoke clinging to him earlier. 

Taking another glance around, there did seem to be some pretty hungry-looking characters lurking around. A sharp-eyed lanky figure with too many silver chains and black clothing was chatting up an equally intimidating red-haired fox-faced person, both of them smirking like the cat that ate the canary. And a white-haired man with his finger hooked through the collar of the person beside him kept winking at you, a cocky grin to rival Wolf’s. 

They all seemed to shy away with Vash and Wolf on either side of you, though. Scary dog privileges? Well, at least one scary dog. Vash was more of a golden retriever than anything. You could practically see his tail wagging as he smiled at you both. 

“You’re scaring him!” Vash playfully chastised his companion, leaning forward on the table. “They aren’t so bad. They just aren’t used to...someone like you coming in here.” You bristled at his implication but he was so sweet and unassuming. It didn’t seem like he was trying to insult you. 

“Sweet little thing like you, you should be grateful we picked you up.” He swiped Vash’s untouched drink from his dangling fingers and knocked it back before offering his hand to shake. “Nicholas D. Wolfwood, at your service. I specialize in looking after lost lambs.” You took his hand and noted again how his skin was cool to the touch. Shouldn’t it really have warmed up by now? The strangeness of the evening was starting to make your head spin but it really did seem like these two were looking out for you. They were subtle about it but both were giving little warning glances at anyone that got a little too close or stared too long. 

“Do you want another drink?” Vash snapped you out of your thoughts with a point to your empty glass. You nodded stiffly, wanting something to settle your nerves a bit more. 

“So...why’s everyone staring at me? Are you all in a club or something?” Wolfwood smirked at your question, flicking his tongue out to lick his lip. 

“In a way.” He gestured to a pale blue sign on the other side of the bar in the shape of a blinking eye, or maybe it was winking, there was only the one. “Most people who come here are part of the Eye. We all know each other, more or less. You’re a fresh face.” 

“And that’s bad?” 

“Oh, no, it’s good. Everyone wants a piece of fresh meat.” He licked his teeth then, his canines a little sharper than they had any right to be. You had to admit he lived up to his “Wolf” nickname well. “Blondie and I just wanted to make sure a pretty thing like you didn’t get torn to shreds.” The thought sent your heart racing but not from fear exactly. You couldn’t stop thinking about those fangs of his at your throat. 

Before your thoughts could get away from you too much, Vash returned with a refill, the glass held in a strange metallic hand. A prosthetic, you assumed. It was a work of art, really. You wondered what it would feel like against your skin. You tried to shake your head clear of that particular train of thought. Sure, these two were handsome and friendly but nothing was going to happen. Not with you. 

Right? 

The three of you chatted while you sipped your second drink, your thoughts only getting more muddled the longer they kept giving you their attention. You felt a bit like a rabbit caught in a snare, their sharp grins and teasing remarks going straight down south. Vash was friendly and asked you endless questions, and as he got more comfortable, he started finding excuses to touch you. His fingers were just as cool as Wolfwood’s but you didn’t have much room to wonder about it when he was looking at you like you were the only person in the room. 

And Wolfwood, he refused to be ignored. Anytime Vash had your attention too long, he’d drag it back to himself. He was bolder with touching you, unsurprisingly. But you found yourself leaning into it the more he did it. It started to feel like the two of them were playing a game, trying to one-up the other. All you cared about was that you seemed to be the prize. You’d happily get out of here with either one but it seemed they wouldn’t be satisfied until you chose. 

“Do you want another drink?” Vash turned your face back towards him, his fingers gently hooked under your chin. His big blue eyes were half-lidded and his smile sly. You were practically melting in your seat but shook your head. The last thing you needed was alcohol loosening your lips any more than they already were. 

“You’re really pretty,” You found yourself saying anyway, Vash’s angelic face tinted in pinks and blues and the orange of his glasses. His eyes got all squinty with his warm smile, his thumb gently brushing your bottom lip. 

“You’re sweet, aren’t you? But I think you’re the pretty one here. I could just eat you up.” Vash started to pull you closer and for a moment you thought he’d kiss you but Wolfwood’s hand rested on your neck. He pulled you back towards him, his fingers scratching pleasantly into your nape. 

“What about me? Am I pretty?” He said it with a big enough smirk that you could tell he was teasing. But fuck it, you’d compliment him too. Didn’t want the big guy feeling left out. 

“You’re sexy.” Your face flamed for the boldness but you might as well go all in. “Like, you look like a mistake I’d happily make.” 

“Oh, sweet thing. I don’t bite. Not unless you want me to.” His dark eyes peeked out over his shades, his fangs glinting in the red light pooling over him. Fangs. Fangs. At last, your overheated brain connected the dots. Too late, you realized what all of these feral grins turned your way meant. 

“I wouldn’t complain.” What had gotten into you? Alcohol makes you too honest. Vash chuckled beside you, leaning in close to your ear. 

“I wouldn’t be so quick to volunteer. He’s greedy.” They met eyes, Wolfwood glaring. 

“And you aren’t? I spotted him first.” 

“He likes me better,” Vash sounded smug, pressing a soft kiss near your ear. “Don’t you, sweetheart?” 

“H-hey, you’re both hot as fuck! I don’t think I could choose.” Wolfwood took you from Vash’s gentle grip and nipped your ear, his fangs just barely scraping. 

“But you’d choose me, right?” This was quickly getting to be too much. Your whole body felt like it was on fire, these two gorgeous devils driving you crazy. You stood, planting your hands firmly on the table to steady on your slightly unbalanced legs. 

“I think... I should probably get some air.” 

“We’ll join you.” Vash stood as well, his lanky height suddenly making you feel smaller than you are. 

“I could use a smoke.” Wolfwood got to his feet as well and stuck an unlit cigarette between his teeth. “Lead the way, lamb. We’ll follow.” 

This hadn’t exactly been your plan but it didn’t seem like you were getting away from either of them any time soon. You made your way carefully towards the door, the two vampires flanking you. That’s what they were, you were certain of it now. Everyone in the bar was probably nonhuman, now that knew what to look for. The air outside had grown colder with the rain, and the drops were still pattering softly. You shivered, but continued around to the side where there was a bit of an overhang and Wolfwood’s smoke wouldn’t be right by the door. 

He lit up, his dark eyes pinning you to the wall over his shades. Without the lights from the signs in the bar, you could tell there was a red glow deep in them. Wolfwood offered you the pack with a smirk. 

“You want one?” 

“No, thanks.” I just wanted to follow you into this dark alley, you thought to yourself. Vash sidled up to you, leaning his back against the chilly brick wall. Wolfwood politely blew his smoke downwind from you both, unbothered by the rain slowly weighing down his shaggy mane. 

“Are you cold?” Vash’s pretty face was pinched in concern and before you could answer, he slung his arm around you. He wasn’t much warmer than the air around you but his torso blocked some of the biting wind. Pressed so close to him, you could finally discern his more mild scent. It was something citrusy and warm, maybe oranges? You tried not to give away the deep inhale but he just chuckled and hugged you a bit tighter. 

“Are ya feelin’ better, lamb?” Wolfwood joined you both, his cigarette forgotten dangling from his lips. “Your head feelin’ a little clearer?” You did feel more sober out here in the crisp air, the hazy lights and hypnotic music from the bar just an afterimage in your mind. But these two still had an intoxicating presence to them, especially when they kept speaking to you in their soft sweet voices. 

“I know what you want from me,” You mumbled, shrinking further into Vash’s jacket. It was warm, the rough canvas thick and comforting. “I figured it out, you’re both vampires, aren’t you?” You expected them to laugh or refute you but they just shared a smile, both of their fangs on display. 

“Very good, sweetheart.” Vash thumbed your chin again, turning your face up towards him. His blue eyes had a kind of glow to the irises, shining through his orange shades. “You wandered into the wolves’ den without realizing. You’re lucky we were here tonight.” 

“Plenty of them wouldn’t be so careful with a pretty little thing like you.” Wolfwood had propped himself against the wall by his arm, effectively blocking you in against Vash’s chest. He loomed over you but kept enough distance to not touch you for now. 

“You just want my blood, right? That’s what all of this is?” You started to feel anger bubbling up. Not just because they’d been toying with you all night but because you had started to believe it. But they were just hungry and you should leave. You shoved away from Vash and got a few steps down the alley before you stopped and looked back at them. 

They weren’t chasing after you. They were having a quiet exchange you couldn’t hear, both of their expressions disappointed but not at all what you expected. Maybe you had wanted them to come after you, just a little. It stung, the thought that they didn’t even want your blood. You turned again to leave but Vash called out your name, his shuffling footsteps bringing him closer. 

“Wait, it’s not what you think.” You whirled around, catching him by surprise. 

“Then what is it, huh? Explain it to me.” You crossed your arms as you waited for an explanation. Vash looked sheepish, glancing back at Wolfwood who gave him a “go on'' gesture. 

“We do want a drink, that’s true. But we aren’t monsters, we aren’t going to take you by force.” 

“So the flirting was just a lie? To convince me to let you bite me?” 

“Not entirely!” Vash held up both his hands, smiling nervously. He looked again at Wolfwood for help but he seemed pleased just watching. “I-- We both like you. You’re not just a meal we’re trying to share.” 

“You don’t even know me,” You said with an eye roll. 

“Call it a feeling, then. I can tell you’re something special.” Vash offered his gloved hand then, looking all the world like an apologetic angel. “You can always say no, we won’t force you.” You looked at Wolfwood over his shoulder and he beckoned with his hooked finger, making your stomach clench. You wanted to believe their honeyed words spoken with their forked tongues. Sure, maybe it was a little exploitative, but you weren’t getting nothing in return. Call it mutually beneficial. 

You took Vash’s offered hand and he pulled you back towards where Wolfwood was waiting. Vash backed up against the wall but pulled you against his chest this time, his long-fingered hands resting on your waist. His usual big sunny smile had turned more sultry as he leaned in, nosing gently against your throat. You melted into his touch, a whimper escaping without meaning to. Wolfwood pressed against your back, pinning you both to the wall. His hands were a lot less gentle with you, manhandling your hips to push them back against his. You felt his teeth against your neck before his tongue, his lick making you shiver. 

“W-wait, wait,” You pushed against Vash’s chest, trying to get some room to breathe. It momentarily distracted you that Vash’s chest was a lot firmer and broader than it looked under his bulky turtleneck. “You’re both going to bite me?” 

“We’ll be careful with you, promise.” Vash was quick to reassure you, rubbing your sides with his thumbs. “You’ll like it, trust me. But if you want us to stop, just say so.” 

“Can you-- Can you kiss me? Please?” Vash looked at you fondly, biting his lip to hold in whatever he wanted to say. But he still leaned in and kissed you, his lips soft and cool. It was nice but not what you wanted, especially sandwiched between them. You grabbed his shirt to pull him in, deepening the kiss until he gasped into your mouth. He tasted metallic and sweet, his sweet little fangs just barely dragging against your lip. You wanted more. 

“Oh, what a hungry little lamb you are,” Wolfwood praised in your ear, his hands dragging up your shirt, his rough hands scraping over your overheated skin. Or maybe his was just cold? You couldn’t tell anymore, not with Vash’s tongue in your mouth. Wolfwood brought his hand up to cup your throat, not grabbing it hard enough to block your air, and kissed the side, sucking little marks you’d hate him for tomorrow. Maybe. It felt so good, you relaxed back against him. His gruff voice in your ear started murmuring directions, telling you where to touch Vash. 

You broke away from his lips when you dove in for his ear, nipping his gold loop earring. He squeezed your waist in his surprise before retaliating with a hand hooking behind your thigh to pull it up around his hip. Like this, you were pressed firmly between them, trapped by both. Vash’s hand squeezed your thigh as he held your leg in place, joining Wolfwood in kissing your neck. 

“Stop hoggin’ him, Blondie.” Wolfwood griped over your shoulder, shoving Vash in the shoulder. 

“Oh, feeling left out? Jealous he likes me better?” Vash smirked as he pulled you back against his chest, making Wolfwood draw in closer as well. 

“You wish, give ‘im here, I’ll show ya.” Wolfwood yanked you by your hips, threatening to rip you from Vash’s arms. “Don’t you wanna kiss me, darlin’?” His voice had tipped a bit into whininess, something that spun your head. They let you turn in their grip so you could face Wolfwood, Vash taking up the task of kissing your neck in his place. It was easy to slip your hands into Wolfwood’s open shirt, his necklaces clinking together pleasantly as you buried your face there, just taking a moment to savor his ample pecs. 

When he grew impatient and kissed you, his big hands held your chin and neck in place. He tasted like cigarettes and smoke but you didn’t mind, he devoured your mouth in the sweetest way. His scruff tickled at your skin but you didn’t care, he bit you like he meant it. 

“Don’t I get a kiss?” Vash’s soft voice filtered in slowly, your lungs starting to cry out for air the longer Wolfwood took it away. But he broke away to give a sloppy kiss over your shoulder, letting you suck in much needed air. 

“Little lamb,” Wolfwood tipped your chin back towards him, licking his lip. “Can we have a taste now? I bet you’re as sweet as you look.” Your thoughts immediately went to your arousal, absolutely nowhere to hide it with them so close. But they meant your blood, obviously. You nodded stiffly, slight disappointment in your eyes. “Oh, that won’t do. I need a verbal agreement and less sadness in those pretty eyes. What’s wrong, baby?” 

“Is it too much?” Vash hugged you, resting his chin on your shoulder. 

“N-no, it’s just that-- It’ll be over. I don’t want it to be over.” 

“Oh, sweetheart,” Vash’s voice was sweet as honey in your ear, his soft lips brushing the shell. “We can take you home, if that’s what you want. All you have to do is ask.” 

“Yes! Yes, please? Please, I want that,” The pleas fell from your lips embarrassingly fast but you’d do anything to keep these gorgeous boys kissing you. You grabbed Wolfwood’s shirt to yank him closer, presenting your throat to him. 

“Such a good boy,” Wolfwood kissed your neck before finding the place to sink his teeth in. It burned for only a moment and then the warmth started to bloom in your gut. You threaded your fingers into his damp hair, the moisture giving you a firm grip on it. He grunted when you pulled on it, his sucking growing more insistent. But Vash didn’t want to be left out, he was nosing the other side of your neck. He pressed soft kisses before his fangs sank in, the sweet heady warmth making you floaty and limp. Their combined sturdy frames kept you up, but you were certain without them you would have tumbled to the ground. 

They drank messily, Vash’s moans breathy and high, Wolfwood’s low grunts. Blood trailed down your neck and made a mess of your clothes but that was the furthest thought from your head. You were pressing your thighs together, desperately trying to relieve the almost-painful building pressure. Vash and Wolfwood were close enough to grind against but it wasn’t enough, far from it. You wanted them inside you. Vash pulled away from your neck first, lapping the little pinpricks closed. Wolfwood needed a bit more convincing but eventually left a farewell kiss there as well. 

“Please, please,” You pressed your face into Wolfwood’s chest, legs shaking with how badly you needed something. It was Vash’s hands that found your hips, his slim fingers teasing at your waistband. 

“Do you want some help, sweetheart?” You nodded before grabbing Wolfwood’s cheeks, pulling him for more kisses. He happily obliged, occupying your mouth while Vash opened your pants and slipped his hand inside. He was slow at first, casting glances around. But Wolfwood’s mouth muffled your moans and their bulk hid you almost entirely. Vash urged you on with muttered praise, peppering kisses everywhere he could reach from his cramped position. Too quick, you felt your orgasm building, and you desperately gripped at Vash’s wrist. You wanted him to give it to you, you wanted him to draw it out. But he promised, he promised. It wasn’t over with this. You let yourself tip over the edge, making a mess of yourself. 

Vash happily licked his fingers clean, holding you up while Wolfwood gave you soft kisses. They let you come down and find your footing again before they stepped away, both smiling wide satisfied grins. 

“What do you say, little lamb?” 

“Let’s go home, we’re not done yet.” 

#trigun fanfiction #trigun smut #reader insert #x reader #masc reader #vash the stampede/nicholas d. wolfwood #vash the stampede/nicholas d. wolfwood/masc reader #vampire au #mouse writes #requested by best friend

[trash-monkey]

Little Brother

Sitting myself into the bathroom sink from the step stool I had pulled up to it and stare into the mirror to see black eyes looking back, two days ago I have died and only awake again as a three year old but by now I'm over the shock. Blond hair sits on top of my head like a nest and I can clearly see I don't have as much of baby fat as I should since this child has a horrible mother that hardly does anything to keep him alive from what I had seen these last two days.

'Its not a wonder why he left but now it's my life.'

Suddenly the front door is thrown open and clicking heels storm inside.

"Where is that little brat?" A women's voice hissed as I hear her heels get closer until she's standing in the door way.

"There you are." I can tell her tone and smile are fake as she picks me up from the sink and bring me to the living room where she drops me onto the couch, I watch as she moves around the place putting what little I have into a large backpack with a piece of torn paper pinned to it.

".....getting rid of it....." I hear her mumble when she passed by before come back to shove a random pacifier into my mouth and pick me off the couch, her grib is tight enough to leave bruises but I didn't complain. I guess the woman is too in impatient to get rid of me as she hurried into a near by subway and onto the second train but before I know it we're on the streets again, dread claws at me when I saw we passed a glowing sign saying we're entering the red light district.

'Where is she taking me?'

After walking a block we enter a multi floored building and immediately I recognize it as a brothel by the half naked ladies walking around, we take the elevator up to a floor and down the hall. She drops me onto the floor at a door before tying the child leash she forced onto me while we were on the train to the door handle and throws the bag next me before storming away, leaving me completely shock when she flipped the middle finger at me with a smile before the elevator doors shut.

'THIS BITCH IS LEAVING ME IN A BROTHEL!?!!? WHAT IS WRONG WITH HER!?!'

Fear and hunger eats away at me as I continue to sit there on the cold hard floor, the elevator door open once again to reveal a decent dressed lady and she stops walking when she spots me after taking her eyes off her phone.

"Why hello there, what are you doing here?" With a sweet voice she kneels before me but I just continue to stare at her, not knowing what to do since I can't tell if she knows whoever lives in this room or not. She rise an eyebrow at my silence before grabbing my bag and read the note once she noticed it, her jaws dropped at whatever info the woman had written on it.

"Come on sweetheart, you're coming with me until he gets back." She unties the leash and sit me on her hip as her another hand gets my bag before walking to what I guess is her room one door down, she gently put me on her bed.

"Here you go sweetheart, I'm sorry but this is all I have in here...... you're thin." She mumbled the last part to herself as she hands me a cracker from a pack that's setting on her desk after putting my bag next to me, I pull the pacifier that's been setting in my mouth the whole time and lay it on the bed. I grabbed the cracker and bite a small piece of a corner off, the lady's smile grows bigger.

A cracker and half later a tall dude walks pass the room but once the lady sees him she jumps up off the bed and calls out to him, I didn't pay attention to them as they talk since I was more interested in eating the rest of my cracker.

"Hey" Suddenly the tall dude is kneeling next to the bed causing me to try to hide my cracker with my body making the dud chuckle and give a smile.

"It's ok, I'm not going to take away your cracker." After relaxing and go back to eating I take in the dude, he has blonde hair like me but mine is a shade or two darker in a long braid with the sides of his head shaved as a dragon tattoo lays on one side and also have the same black eyes. The more I stare the more I see that we look alike except a few simple features.

'So the woman dropped me off at a relative.'

"I'm your big brother." He said surprisingly in a gentle voice in response of my confused expression.

'oh, she abandon him too.'

"Bu, yo my bu?" I asked shocking both since this is the first time I have spoken.

"Yes, your brother." A kind smile is placed on his lips which I give him a smile of my own with a happy giggle and crawl my way to him to throw my arms around his neck, he stands after holding me in place.

"Thank you." He whispered to the lady on the way out of her room, he unlock his door but had to hold me and my bag awkwardly to do so. He places me on my feet in the middle of his room which is middle size with shower in upper left corner while his bed rests in the upper right, a shelf of different things in the lower left corner next to the door. Brother sits on the floor next to me and started going through my bag, he pulls out a few pairs of clothes with shoes, another pacifier, and two broken toys. At the very few things I have causes him to sigh before picking up a random pair of shorts and underwear.

"Bath time." He grabs ahold of my hand and lead me into his shower, with his help I pull of my clothes causing he frowns at the forming bruises on my side once seeing them. Once done with the bath he dries and dress me before brushing my hair, he leaves me on his bed with the two broken toys to entertain me while he takes his own shower but when he got he finds me asleep. With a sad smile he undid his braid before sliding into bed and carefully lay my small body on his chest with a hand rubbing my back.

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#fanfic #male y/n #male reader #anime #tokyo manji gang #tokyo revengers #tokyrev #tokyo revengers draken #child reader

[crazyk-imagine]

Call Sign Crack

Dagger Squad members x GN!Reader

A/N: Some parts will have members of the Dagger Squad as Boyfriends, Girlfriends, Fiancees, and/ or best friends but you can read it however you want to. I just wanted to spice things up. Also, some parts the reader knows the squad while some parts they don’t. 

This is absolute crack; I have been working on this for months and I have no regrets for what you are about to read but do please enjoy!

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His call sign Hangman…

“You know how he’ll joke about his name being hungman instead of his actual call sign?” You ask. 

“Yeah?” The one you learned to be Phoenix, with Bob and Fanboy beside her, all look at you with a weary expression. 

“Well,” you lean in. 

They have a feeling on where this conversation is going, and they’re still not prepared for it. 

“He’s not wrong,” you bite your lip to keep your giggles to yourself. 

“Gross,” she groans. 

Fanboy tosses his head back finishing his drink, wanting the alcohol to remove this conversation from his memory. 

Bob drops his head down onto the table. 

Jake notices this going down as he walks back with more drinks (which are most definitely going to be needed). “What’d you do?” 

“What?” You turn to him, sticking your bottom lip out ever so slightly. 

He narrows his eyes at you, “don’t give me that look. I know that look and it screams trouble.” 

“You exaggerate.” 

“No, no,” Javy interjects. “He’s right. I’ve seen that look; it just screams trouble.” 

“Well, why don’t I just tell the other where you got that nickname of yours, huh?” 

He blinks once before patting his friend’s shoulder, “have fun you too.” 

“That’s what I thought, Javy!” You shout, leaning up in your chair. 

“Shut up!” 

“They told us about your made-up call sign,” Natasha groans. 

“Oh, is that all?” 

The three groan and leave you two alone, they can’t handle this topic anymore.

 -

His call sign Bob…

“Why do you call him Bobby pin?” Asks the one with the mustache, you think his name started with a B. Oh, you got it, Bradley. He always texts you from Bob’s phone but he uses his call sign… and you can’t remember that right now either.

‘Maybe it’s time to start drinking water,’ you think. You get out of your head and realize they’re waiting for an answer. 

“Because,” you give your boyfriend a sweet smile before turning back towards the others, “Bobby can pin me anywhere, any time he wants.” 

You want to say the cocky one’s name is Wesley… that can’t be right, but he spits out his drink, slapping his chest to keep him from choking, any more than he already is. 

The man (who always stands beside him, clearly the blond’s friend) pats his back. 

Natasha shakes her head, sipping her drink. She knows how you can be; she’s heard some calls and read the letters; and she thinks (but has yet to tell you) you’re even better in person. 

“Couldn’t have given me a little warning, Baby on Board?” Jake whispers. 

“He can’t deny it. He knows it’s true.” 

Bob shakes his head, chuckling before taking a sip.

-

His call sign Rooster…

“Cock fighter!” You shout less than a foot away from your boyfriend. 

Bradley sighs, “yeah?” 

“Here you are,” you smile at him, kissing his cheek. 

“Did they just call you cock fighter?” A tall man in his khaki navy outfit asks. 

You glance over at him, wondering why he seems familiar. Oh, now you know, it’s Jake. 

Bradley sighs, “I wish I could deny it but no.” 

“I’m afraid to ask why,” Natasha, the only female sitting with a few of the others at the moment says. 

You remember her more than the others, she’s always so nice when you call (and the only person you like talking to who’s in the same squad as Bradley, you have yet to actually get to know any of the others). 

“You should be,” he jokes. 

You smack his chest. “Shut up.” 

He gives you his dazzling smile. “I love it though,” he assures you, pecking your jaw. 

“You’re such a bad liar Bradley.” 

“Chicken’s being sweet and it’s making me nauseous.” Jake walks away. 

“Do you have any more embarrassing nicknames for Brad?” asks Natasha. 

You smirk, “tons.”  

 -

His call sign Fanboy…

“Boy he sure is a fan, of me.” Reuben shakes his head. 

Mickeys warned him about the bad jokes and puns you can make but he was not expecting them to be this bad. 

“Please, tell me I didn’t hear that,” Jason (that doesn’t sound right as you try to think of his name after only meeting him once) says. 

“You did and I only have a minor regret about it. But he got his call sign because of his love for Star Trek.” 

“That I could I see,” the one with the flaming bird name… PHOENIX, yeah that’s her call sign, adds. 

“Of course, they named him after his nerdiness.” 

You pout, pulling your fiancé (of seven months) in for a hug, “don’t be mean, birdy.” 

She raises her hands in a defensive manner even though she knows your joking. 

“Besides it’s only the font that would show you his nerdiness, as you like to say.” You can feel the vibrations of his chuckle against you. 

He pecks your cheek, “thanks for the defense, babe.” 

You give him one of your dazzling million-dollar smiles, “always.” 

“Is there anything else we should know about his call sign?” Natasha asks, having fun talking to you. 

You nod, “so much. And I mean it, like you don’t even know.”

 -

His call sign Fritz

“Hi Ritzy,” you greet him with a smile. 

“Hey, you made it.” He hands the pool cue to one of his navy buddy’s so he can hug you. 

“Of course, I did.” 

He invited you to come and hangout with his buddies, there was no way you’d miss that. It’s always good to get out of the house once in a while. 

“Ritzy?” Neil asks. 

You turn towards him. “That’s just his cute nickname.” 

“So, he has a dirty one?” Some blond pilot asks. 

You’re still working on learning their names. You shrug, “not really.” 

“That sounds like a definitely,” the same cocky blond says. 

“Okay, this is stupid, but you know ritz crackers.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Oh God,” Billy mumbles to himself, covering his face. 

You shush him. “His all-time favorite snacks are the crackers, right.” 

“Okay. What about the F?” One of the others asks. 

Your silence speaks volumes. 

“Oh, gross,” says the blond. 

Callie groans, shivering in disgust. 

You scoff, “I’m sure you’ve already gotten like five girls’ numbers and one pair of panties to go with it.” 

“What about the Z?” the girl, beside the adorable guy with glasses, asks. 

You shrug, “it makes it fun.”

 -

His call sign Coyote

“Hey, Wile e coyote,” you hold your fist up. 

He fists bumps you before handing you, his drink. 

“Like the cartoon?” Jake questions with his brows knit together. 

“Yep,” you nod. “It’s fun.” 

“And childish.” Well look who’s mister judgey. 

“We all need to have a little fun and something to remind us of our childhood sometimes. It’s a good thing.” 

Jake raises his hands, “I’m- I’m not judging-” 

The one with the mustache and the other with the glasses, fake cough into their hands and say, “liar.” 

“Hey! No one asked you two. You’re not even a part of this conversation.” 

“We’re helping you face your fears,” the one named after a chicken says. 

You blame Jake for the false call sign you think of. 

“And my fear is?” 

“Being proven wrong,” Bob murmurs, munching on his snacks. 

“Oh, shut up. No one asked you.” 

“You did,” you and Javy say. 

His friend walks away and you two chuckle.

 -

His call sign Payback

“This is why your nickname- sorry, call sign,” you correct yourself. 

“You remembered,” Reuben’s lips tug to the side into a smirk. 

You smile, “I did. Anyway, back to what I was saying. This is why your call sign is Payback.” 

He hums, “and why is that?” 

Mickey takes a seat beside his friend, “what are we talking about?” 

You rip the wrapper off your straw and take a sip of your drink before talking. 

“About how bad he,” you point to your fiancé, “is at paying someone back.” 

“Oh, God. Are they doing their speech about his call sign again?” Natasha asks Jake, who hands Bob and Bradley their drinks. 

He nods, taking a seat beside her with his arm resting across the back of her chair. “Yep.” 

“Does everyone know?” 

“You don’t ever not say it,” Bradley points out. 

“Bite me, Bradshaw.” 

“I don’t think your fiancé would approve.” 

Reuben interrupts the almost fight with a dry, fake laugh. “Ha ha. Thank you for that Rooster.” He turns to you, “ignore him. And he paid for drinks today.” 

“Yeah,” Bradley chuckles, leaning back in the chair until the words process in his mind. “Wait- what?” He frantically searches his pockets for his wallet. 

“This reminds me of the time Maverick couldn’t pay for bill the night before your mission,” you comment. 

“You weren’t there,” Billy points out. 

“You don’t know that.” 

No one says anything. 

“Okay, fine. But I was there in spirit, and it feels like I was there whenever I hear the story.”

 -

Her call sign Phoenix…

You enter the bar and walk over towards the back, where Natasha told you she’d most likely be. You smile and stand behind her, resting your hand on her back so she knows it’s you. 

You thought it would be smart if you two had some kind of signal so she wouldn’t do anything she’d feel bad about later. 

“Hey, hottie,” you tease her, knowing it would piss one of the guys off. You just couldn’t remember who it was she was complaining about. 

Just as you predicted, one of the pilots (the cocky one) scoffs. “She can call you that but one time I make a joke and you get defensive. How is that fair?” 

“Maybe because I’m her partner and you’re not.” 

Mickey, Reuben, and Bob chuckle. 

“Burn.” 

“Coyote! You’re my friend.” 

He shrugs, “it was a good burn.” 

“Mine was good,” he mumbles. 

“Your’s sucked, Bagman,” Natasha teases him. 

“I’m going to get more beer,” he grumbles as he walks away. 

“Your friends are fun.” 

“Wait, till they’ve had a few drinks,” she tells you. 

You hum, “can’t wait.”

 -

His call sign Omaha

“Do you know how he got his name?” Brigham asks, occupying the empty seat across from you. 

You tilt your head, “maybe. Why do you ask?” 

He shrugs, “I was curious if you knew, I’ve overheard a couple of the other stories. Guess, I wanted to know if his landed more on the embarrassing side or not.” 

“Ah, gotcha.” 

“If he doesn’t have a story, that’s cool too but I’m bored. No one’s here yet.” 

You sigh, “fine, fine. I’ll tell you. It isn’t much of a story anyway it’s just about something he likes.” 

He shrugs, “okay then what does he like?” 

Neil grabs your drinks and starts heading back to your “special” table. 

“He likes football.” 

“Oh, no,” Neil mumbles to himself once he hears what the two of you are talking about. 

“What? He told me he didn’t like football when I asked him if he wanted to come to the game with me.” 

“Blame them,” your caring boyfriend points to you. 

“I was going to say that you punk.” You smack his shoulder. “We were taking a mini vacation trip away and the whole weekend plan was non-refundable.” 

Brigham takes a sip of his drink. “Fine, I’ll accept that answer but only because I have someone to give me all the dirt on you.” 

You three laugh until a few of the others from their squad come over and drag the boys away, leaving you alone but not for long because the girls drag you over to play pool with them.  

 -

Her call sign Halo

“I’ve always wanted to hear the story about how you two met,” Logan says, picking through the nachos. 

Jake raises a brow. “Seriously?” 

“What?” The man asks with a full mouth. 

“Don’t judge him. Ignore him,” you tell Logan as you shove Jake’s shoulder. “I’ll tell you because I can remember it as clear as day. I was riding my- God- what was it?” 

“You said you remembered it as clear as day,” Billy points out taking a sip of his drink. 

“And I rode my scooter and bike around a lot. Anyway, I decide that I’m gonna move off the sidewalk because too many neighbors are out walking their dogs and expect me to move so I go into the street, not too far away from the curb though. And then all of a sudden, I’m on the ground-” 

“Did you get hit by a car?” 

“Did you trip over a rock?” 

“Were there any annoying little brats laughing their asses off?” 

You furrow your brows at Bob’s question. “No, you clearly need some therapy, but we’ll talk more about that later. All of a sudden, there’s a person in front of me and the first thing I think is-” 

“She’s an angel,” Callie finishes. 

“Exactly but the only reason I said thought that was because I saw a halo.” 

“That was an oddly touching story,” Neil tells you, stealing the nachos away from Logan. 

“You sound so impressed.” 

“Believe me, I am.” 

“That’d be a great way to get some numbers,” Jake theorizes. 

“Oh God. What did I start?”

 -

His call sign Harvard

“You know I’ve always been curious about something,” Javy says, setting his napkin down. 

“How did you get your call sign Harvard?” 

“Has no one ever heard this story?” You ask before turning to your boyfriend. “Is it even a story? I feel like it might be more of a fact than anything.” 

He thinks about it for a minute, “yeah, I guess you’re right but this- this isn’t the time to talk about it. I mean, we’re having dinner right now. Maybe some other time.” 

“We’ve never asked before.” 

“Come one, we want to know.” 

“We won’t make fun of you.” The others comment and reassure him. 

He’s still a little hesitant to say anything. 

“It can’t be that bad.” 

“Maybe he thinks you’re gonna be a jerk and make fun of him, Bagman,” Natasha says, with a snarky tone as she snatches the bowl of biscuits from him. 

The man lets out a dry laugh. “Kind as always Princess Phoenix.” 

“It was his dream school if he wasn’t able to become a pilot,” you explain, not wanting to listen to the two arguing. 

“That’s nice,” Bob tells him. 

Brigham nervously chuckles. 

“Better than mine,” Bagman, nope. Ah, Hangman says. 

Everyone chuckles before digging into their meals.  

 -

His call sign Yale

“How’s my goat?” 

Everyone except for Callie and Billy turn towards you. 

“I’m sorry-” Neil starts. 

“Did you say goat?” Bradley finishes. 

“Is that a new sex thing?” asks Jake. 

Bob scoffs, “you would know.” 

Jake points to the WSO with glasses. “Can it, Baby on Board.” 

The man raises his hands, “I’m just being honest.” 

“Oh, that’s it.” Who knew Bob was so fast? 

“Okay, first off. It’s not a sex thing, I swear. Second, it’s because Logan was really into mythology as a kid and had like a thousand books about it and we were looking up random things one night. I happened to look up yale because that’s the school everyone in his family had gone to and actually managed to get successful careers out of what they studied, not that that’s important. What was I saying?” 

Mickey shrugs, “you lost me at the sex part.” 

“It wasn’t a sex thing,” you groan. 

“Yeah, yeah.” 

“Oh, right. Yale plus mythology equals goat.” 

“Why didn’t you say that in the first place?” 

Jake has his hands on his knees as he pants. “Hide me.” 

“You’re the chaser,” Callie points out. 

“Get back here Baby on Board!”

#top gun #top gun maverick #top gun maverick imagine #top gun maverick imagines #top gun maverick x reader #top gun maverick fanfiction #top gun maverick fanfic #top gun maverick blurb #Jake hangman seresin #bradley rooster bradshaw #robert bob floyd #reuben payback fitch #mickey fanboy garcia #natasha phoenix trace #javy coyote machado #callie halo bassett #neil omaha vikander #billy fritz avalone #brigham harvard lennox #logan yale lee #crazyk-imagine

[afairmaiden]

The Others (Part 1)

This is part 1 of my entry for the 2022 Inklings Challenge (@inklings-challenge). I don’t know if it’s going to be finished by the deadline, but I wanted to get something up at least.

“And this is the condemnation, that the light has come into the world, and men loved darkness rather than light, because their deeds were evil. For everyone practicing evil hates the light and does not come to the light, lest his deeds should be exposed. But he who does the truth comes to the light, that his deeds may be clearly seen, that they have been done in God.” John 3:19-21

I remember thinking the woods were beautiful.

I remember everything, even the things I was supposed to forget.

In fifth grade we took a field trip to the preserve just north of the city. There were twenty-six of us, plus the teacher and teacher’s aide, and for once they let us choose who we would be paired up with for the day. I waited quietly, watching the others make their choices, until the only other person left was a girl named Jess. I was secretly glad, because I’d always thought she was cool, even if no one else did. Her hair was too long and her clothes were strange-looking, and it was no secret that she and her brother didn’t get enough to eat because her parents could barely support one kid, let alone two. Still, she was always nice, and I was excited to have a chance to hang out with her.

It was a warm day at the very end of April. No one was saying much on the bus. We just watched as the scene outside changed from close gray skyscrapers and pavement to fields of windmills and sparkling solar panels under the open blue sky. Finally, we came to the entrance of the preserve, where a uniformed guard waved down at us from his post high up in the watchtower and opened the gate for us.

We parked by an open grassy area bordered by flowers and trees. There was a large welcome sign and a stand with a physical guestbook where we spent a good ten minutes struggling to write our names with the old-fashioned ballpoint pen that was attached to it. The teacher was annoyed, but I noticed her name didn’t look much neater than ours. I remember it was bright, almost too bright, and far too open and exposed for my liking. It was quiet as well, which seemed strange after the constant humming, buzzing, rattling, whirring sounds of the city, not a sound to be heard except the occasional breeze rustling the leaves. A couple kids nervously asked if there were any animals, but the park ranger who was leading the tour assured us there was nothing to worry about; the animals were in another part of the preserve, and there were cameras everywhere. It was perfectly safe to go exploring.

After a brief tour, we were allowed to wander around on our own, so Jess and I split from the group and went down a trail where some flowers were growing. We read the signs – there were roses and lilies, violets, baby’s breath, white chrysanthemums, pink carnations, monkshood, rhododendrons, tuberose, sunflowers, and snapdragons. We went further down the path, where the bushes grew taller, talking a little as we went, but mostly admiring the scenery. The path went up and up, then turned a little until we suddenly came to a tall chain-link fence. We could see beyond it that everything was wilder, and here we heard other sounds. I thought I heard running water below, and Jess gasped and pointed at something that might have been a bird.

We stood there for a few minutes just looking when I thought I heard something else that I couldn’t quite name. It slowly grew louder, and with it, the light seemed to grow brighter until it was nearly blinding and I had to shut my eyes. I don’t know how much time passed before the noise stopped and I heard my name being called. I looked up to find the teacher’s aide, Marcy, coming toward me. For a second I froze, because she was usually in a bad mood, but she seemed unusually cheerful and started talking as though we were good friends.

“Found you! Well that was fun, wasn’t it? I love it out here, don’t you? But it’s time to be heading back now.”

I looked around to see where Jess had gone but couldn’t see her anywhere. I began to panic and opened my mouth, but found myself unable to speak as Marcy drew nearer, looking entirely oblivious to what had just occurred.

“Come on,” she continued brightly, taking my hand. “Remember what the ranger said? This is public land that’s open to everyone, so you can come back anytime you want.”

I finally found my voice, but all I could say was, “But…Jess—where—”

“What’s that?” Marcy asked. She looked confused. Just then there was the sound of a horn honking. “You’ll have to tell me on the bus. We don’t want to be late.”

We arrived at the bus just as everyone else was getting on. I continued to look around, but Jess remained nowhere to be seen, a fact that seemed entirely lost on both the teacher and the park ranger as they called roll from the guestbook and told the driver that everyone was accounted for. Marcy sat next to me on the bus and made small talk the whole ride back.

When I got home, I used my mother’s computer to try to look up Jess’s family in the building directory, to see if she had gotten home another way, but they weren’t there. Their names, numbers, everything was gone. It was like they’d never even existed.

***

I knew when the lights started flickering that it was only a matter of time. It was hardly a surprise; the factory had been short on people since long before I started working three years ago, we’d been losing people every year, and there was no one to replace them. Over eight hundred apartments in the building, and now less than fifty were occupied, all the other businesses were long gone, services had been cut to the absolute essentials, the elevators were down every other week, and the food seemed even more tasteless than usual. I tried to tell myself it would be alright, that buildings closed all the time, and we’d just be reassigned to an identical one a few streets over, where we’d probably be doing the exact same jobs even. All the same, when the notice finally came from management, my heart started racing and I started having trouble breathing normally.

For half a minute, I actually considered making an appointment with the building therapist. Even if it was an obvious trap, I almost thought it would be worth the risk of being red-flagged for instability if I could actually talk to someone. Fortunately, the moment of insanity passed, and after we were dismissed, I made my way down to the wellness lounge instead, to release the negative emotions in a safe, positive way.

Gina, our resident Lightbringer, was already there, looking perfectly serene and shining as brightly as ever. She greeted me with a warm smile and a slight bow, which I returned, relieved that even if she guessed my true feelings, she wouldn’t mention it. Acknowledging the darkness might dim her own light, and she couldn’t risk that, especially when she appeared to be preparing for a display.

“So, a change is coming,” she said in her usual dreamy tone, closing her eyes and sighing deeply. “What a wonderful opportunity for growth.”

My smile felt somewhat strained as I nodded mutely.

“I’ve been thinking,” she said, suddenly fixing her eyes on me intently. “How would you like a change of pace? You’ve certainly distinguished yourself as a model employee during your time here, but I’m afraid that even in a larger factory, your opportunities for advancement will be quite limited. You’re very bright, you know—” She smiled as I stared back in shock. “Far too bright for a place like this. You may not see it, but I do. You have a gift, and I’d hate to see you sell yourself short. Now, the ranger service is looking for qualified applicants, and I think it would be just the job for you.”

I wasn’t about to argue, but I hardly know what to say. I’d ended up here precisely because I’d never been particularly gifted at anything. Decent, yes, solidly average, sure, but gifted? She seemed to sense my hesitation because she smiled encouragingly and put a hand on my shoulder.

“I’m going to put in a recommendation for you, and I expect to hear something soon.”

***

A week later, I boarded the subway with everything I owned packed in one backpack and one standard issue rolling suitcase. I had assumed I would be moving close to the preserve, so I was surprised when I put in my number and discovered that the training center was at the heart of the Inner Circle. Apparently this was news to my fellow passengers as well, as a number of excited whispers suddenly broke out. Though everything outside the windows was flying by in a blur, we knew we were getting close as the light seemed to change, and when we came to our stop fifteen minutes later, we found the station looking bright and clean, the people professional and put-together, and the technology state-of-the-art as interactive holographic displays offered travelers assistance at every turn.

We were met by a man in a tan uniform who scanned our cards and ushered us into an elevator marked ICTC – Authorized Personnel Only, which brought us to a spacious meeting room on the twentieth floor, which looked much like the wellness lounge in my old building, except the walls and furniture were a rich dark red rather than plain white, and instead of harsh white LEDs overhead, the room was faintly illuminated by a soft blue glow coming from the edges of the carpet. In the center of the room, a table of food had been laid out, and a pleasant-looking woman invited us to help ourselves and have a seat while a number of other uniformed individuals took our belongings to our rooms. There were about twenty of us in total, and we all sat a little awkwardly as we waited for the orientation to begin.

It began slowly. After we finished eating, the next hour was spent signing the usual liability paperwork before receiving a series of inoculations we would need to work around actual wildlife – rabies, Lyme disease, a number of diseases I assumed had been eradicated centuries ago and others I had never heard of. Then while we were all feeling a bit sore and slightly sick, the woman who had greeted us took her place at a podium in front of the room and began began to speak.

“I hope you all understand what a great honor it is to be chosen for this program,” she said. “We’re doing very important work here, work that keeps not just the preserve, but the whole city safe.”

She began her presentation on local wildlife, making use of a holographic projector like the ones we had seen below.

“This is a chipmunk. This is a squirrel.  This is the sound of a mountain lion screaming.”

This continued for a couple hours before it was time for lunch. More food was brought in, and after a while, we began to relax and even started talking a bit. When it was time to start again, the lights dimmed, and the instructor once more took her place at the podium, this time making use of a large screen on the wall. Her expression, which had seemed pleasant at first, now appeared somewhat forced as she smiled down at us.

“You should know,” she said quietly, “that we’re not alone here.”

She waited a moment for the sentence to sink in before pressing a button, and a map of the city, outlined in blue, appeared on the screen.

“Here, you see, is the city. This—”

She hit the button a second time, and the map zoomed out slightly, revealing a larger area outlined in yellow.

“This is the border of the old city. And this—”

She hit the button once more, and the map zoomed out until the city was a fraction of its size, a spot of gray in a sea of green. She pointed to an area about a hundred miles southeast.

“This is where we believe they’re located.”

“There are people out there?”

The question came from a girl near the back, who immediately turned red and clapped her hands over her mouth. Everyone stared at her, then looked to the instructor awaiting her response. Finally, she spoke.

“No,” she said slowly. “We don’t think they’re people.”

The rest of the meeting was kind of a blur. The instructor explained that they were known simply as the Others. We had first made contact with them about two hundred years prior, and considered them not exactly friends, but allies. They had helped us develop certain technologies that had allowed our city to survive the Long Winter. Even so, they had never sought to interfere with our governance, but seemed content to keep an eye on things from a distance. But lately, she said, there had been some...concerning developments.

“Wildlife behaving strangely. Unusual weather patterns. You may have noticed that the wireless network has been a bit unreliable at times. And the issues with the electric grid haven’t been limited to older buildings.”

As if on cue, the lights flickered once...then twice.

She continued, “Meanwhile, they’ve been increasingly unresponsive to our communications.”

She turned back to the map.

“We call it the Dead Zone. All technology fails there. Signals get scrambled. Video feeds freeze up. Satellites can’t get a clear picture. Large crafts are too conspicuous. Small crafts get knocked down or blown off course by strong winds. Even our...alternative methods have proved ineffective. We don’t know why, but we don’t think it’s a coincidence. If we want answers, we’re going to have to go down there ourselves. Or I should say, you are going to go.”

She paused again before continuing, “It may be dangerous. In the early days, we agreed to certain boundaries, and there’s a possibility that crossing into their territory will be considered an act of war. That is why it is absolutely imperative that we all demonstrate our unwavering commitment to walking in light.”

Her smile never faltered, but I imagined there was a flash of warning in her eyes.

“Now, you are here because we have faith in you. And in order to prepare you further, we have invited Lightbringer Gina Avery to assist in your training, beginning with a special display after dinner.”

***

The display that evening was even more spectacular than usual. As always, we filed into the room in silence and took our places on the floor, careful not to bump into each other as the door shut, leaving us in utter darkness. We remained in silent meditation for a few minutes before we heard the sound of low, distant rumbling start, and began to see the faintest glow of red rising from the floor, revealing the dark silhouette of the city skyline with clouds flying low overhead. Then came the sound of a bell, and Gina began to speak.

“We have gathered together this evening to remember. To look into the shadows of the past, the dark times of blindness and ignorance and despair, and to recognize how far we have come.”

The rumbling grew louder, and the moment she finished speaking, there came a sharp crack, and for the briefest moment, the room was illuminated by a flash of red as if lighting had struck in our midst. Several people screamed. I remembered watching displays with my mother as a small child and how I would instinctively reach out for her at these times, and how on those rare occasions she would pull me in and hold me close, stroking my hair until it was over.

Gina continued, “We remember the times of inequality and suffering, when greed and selfish ambition dominated, when prejudice and superstition made people afraid.”

As she spoke, the lightning continued, illuminating larger silhouettes like monsters rising above the city, bent on destroying it. Greed was a tall, thin man with glowing green eyes counting out bills. Ambition was an ancient barbarian with a sword, cutting down everyone around him until he was the last one standing. Superstition was a group of people bowing before strange symbols, then turning to attack one another. These images lasted only moments before the lightning ceased, leaving the city illuminated by dancing waves of red and orange, like fire.

“But now...” The flames froze. “We know better.” They faded. “We suffered great losses...” Utter darkness once more. “But we have survived and advanced as a civilization.” A hint of white on the horizon. “We have learned to live in harmony...” The city suddenly illuminated by millions of points of yellow light from every window. “To embrace diversity, equity, and inclusion in all realms of society...” The sky turned a brilliant pink. “To care for the earth and all its creatures above our own convenience...” Purple. “To sacrifice our own desires for the good of others...” Blue. “As we meditate on these things, we shine with the light of the universe...” The ceiling above now filled with millions and billions of stars and swirling galaxies. “We give no place to the darkness. We banish from our minds all fear, all anger, all selfishness, all lies of the past that would drag us back into the shadows of disharmony. We will not allow our lights to be dimmed.”

[part 2]

#inklingschallenge #team chesterton #genre: intrusive fantasy #imagery: light #story: incomplete

[arvend]

The grass is frosty, and the make of his boots is the only thing keeping him from slipping on it. The ocean breeze is ice-cold, it turns his cheeks and ears red and he thinks he probably should have grabbed a hat or earmuffs or something before leaving the lab. So, for now, he yanks his hood up over his head. It’ll do for now.

He’s been out for a while now. Mostly just exploring and gathering berries with the help of Greedent, but his Pokémon’s taken to lounging underneath a tree, snoozing away while holding onto his tail. So Arven crouches nearby, snacking on pieces of granola, watching wild Pokémon pass from a distance while Greedent snores.

It’s uneventful. He’s considering heading back early. It’s cold, and there are signs that it’s going to slurry soon, and he doesn’t currently have the equipment on him to be able to deal with that.

And then, somewhere far off to his left, he hears a distressed squeaking sound, followed by the unmistakable cackling of a murder of Murkrow. Arven pushes himself up into a standing position and throws a glance at Greedent, who clearly isn’t going to be moving anytime soon. He unclips Mabosstiff’s ball from his belt and releases the old hound, clicking his tongue for him to follow as he walks towards the source of the noise, crouching low into the tall grass the closer he gets.

There it is: about six Murkrow in a tight circle around something. They’re not really attacking, they’re just laughing and flapping their wings and jerking their heads forward to peck. They’re bullying. Arven can’t see what they’re bullying, though, but he can hear it crying. Arven clicks his tongue again, waving Mabosstiff over to his side. The canine hunkers low next to him, awaiting command.

Arven pats him on the head, waves forward with two fingers, and then points towards the commotion.

Mabosstiff prowls forward, low to the ground, and then bursts from the grass and chases the Murkrow with a loud, booming bark. The birds squawk in alarm and scatter instantly, shrieking as they take to the skies. The hound continues circling and barking until Arven can no longer see them, and then he rises from the grass to see just what they were harassing. Mabosstiff has already stopped to crouch in front of it, trying to appear less threatening.

It’s...

An Applin. It’s trembling in its little shelter, and it’s still crying, but not as loud as before. Arven notes the color of the apple — green — before he slowly walks over. It looks unharmed, just upset. The tiny dragon looks up at him as he approaches, and he drops to his knees a few feet away.

“Hey, little buddy. Those bullies won’t bother you anymore.” Arven keeps his voice light, gentle. “You’re safe now, I promise.”

The dragon keeps staring at him, trembling. Arven works his bottom lip with his teeth. Dragons aren’t... always the easiest to deal with, but this one is just a baby, and it’s a shiny thus more likely to be harassed by both its kin and by other wild Pokémon. He feels bad for it.

Arven peels a glove off one hand and gets lower to the ground, holding his hand out, palm-up.

It’s okay. I’m safe.

Mabosstiff whimpers and backs off. His rather large presence probably isn’t helping the tiny thing feel any better. Arven keeps his hand out, and his eyes soften. It keeps staring at him.

Do you want to come with me?

The Applin perks up. Arven gives it a smile.

“C’mon, I’ll make sure you don’t get bullied again.” He shifts to move closer and the dragon doesn’t jerk back. He’s close enough to run his finger over the surface of the apple, so he tries. The Applin doesn’t shrink away. I’m safe. It’s safe. You’re safe.

It hops into his palm and Arven blinks, processing, before he breaks out into a grin and sits up. He brings it closer and it nestles close to his chest. Shrugging his bag off, he uses his free hand to dig into it for an empty Poké Ball and holds it up. It grows in his palm and he presses the button in the center, absorbing the little dragon in a beam of light. It shimmies once in his hand before stilling.

Congratulations!

Applin has been caught!

#finally... a dragon type #drabble. #cute drabble for once

[blitzendoggo]

Monster of the Week

The Rangers of Power are sent to stop a monster rampaging the streets, but “its” face is too familiar for the beloved Blue Ranger.

Ranger!Glib/Skog (3,795 words)

~~

“Hey, lover boy!” Charlie coos as Glib walks through the door to their dorm. “How was your date?”

“With your totally real boyfriend,” Phlash teases from his usual spot on the couch.

Glib levels a glare at the Goliath before saying, “My date was great. We went to a restaurant on the north side of town.”

Specks is sitting in the middle of the living room with a myriad of scrolls around him, clearly in the middle of studying, but he looks up, readjusting his glasses. “Did you ask if we can meet him yet?”

Glib snickers as he nods. His friends have been hounding him for months to meet his boyfriend. The only information that they had gotten about him is that he is a full-blooded orc who is quite a bit older than Glib and has a lot of money. “Yeah, he finally agreed.” Glib shrugs off his jacket, throwing it on the coat rack.

It was less that he finally agreed and more than Glib thought it was safe enough to bring him around. While his friends had been ecstatic to learn that Glib had found someone, Ggarok had thought it was a trap that Glib was foolish enough to fall for. Rangers aren’t supposed to keep in close contact with loved ones, let alone make new loved ones.

From somewhere behind him he hears the tell-tale sound of B.B. prepping a spell blast on his latest gun. “Good, I finally get to give the tall bastard the shovel talk,” the dwarf-gnome says with manic glee.

“As if, B.B. He’ll break that damn gun of yours like a toothpick,” Glib shoots back. “And then offer to cover the costs because he’s nice like that.”

“He can’t break Baby…” B.B. grumbles as he unracks his shot.

“Yes, he can and he will, I watched him bend a damn crowbar in half because he didn’t like it,” Glib says as he joins the others in the living room.

“Baby is stronger than a crowbar!” B.B. snaps.

The human looks at the gnome-dwarf with a crooked smile. “How much are you willing to bet on that?”

They hold tense eye contact for a moment before breaking away with snickers.

“So when and where are we meeting this guy?” Phlash asks, clearly higher than a kite as he tacks on, “I wanna see if I’m taller than him.”

Glib rolls his eyes. “The shakes place we normally eat at. He said he wanted you guys to have home-field advantage.”

“So, we won’t see him all dolled up in those suits you love so much?” Charlie asks with faux worry and disappointment.

“No, you will. He’s meeting us after work, he won’t have time to change,” Glib explains as he sits next to the Goliath, reclaiming his spot.

“We should show up in suits,” Phlash says, nodding at his own statement like it was sage advice.

Charlie oo’s as she leans over the couch. “I like that idea. Suits are so my style.”

“I think he’s referring to formal suits, Chip,” Specs corrects, barely looking up from his scrolls.

“Yeah, not whatever you wore to formal,” B.B. tacks on in a clear joking tone.

Specs looks up tiredly. “That is not what I said.”

“But it is what you meant,” B.B. points out.

“You are putting words in my mouth,” Specs grumbles.

“Wouldn’t that just be sign language for Vaktaan?” Phlash, ever the philosophical man he is, points out.

“No, the mouths can talk! They would have no need for sign language because their minds are all connected see in the story of-”

“Okay,” Charlie says, cutting him off and holding the “o” for far longer than needed. “I’m going to bed before I have to listen to another stupid theology debate or lecture.” She pushes off the back of the couch and walks towards her room, calling “Night, boys!” over her shoulder and a chorus of “Night, Charlie!” following her as her door shuts.

“Yeah, I’m going to join her, night,” Glib says simply as he gets up and wanders into his room. He changes quickly before pulling out his sending stone. By now Skog should have gotten home and texted him that he was safe, but there are no new messages. Glib gets worried for a moment before deciding that the charge on his stone must’ve worn off on the walk, it was nearly gone anyway. The human dismisses his anxiety and lays down, curling up in his favorite blankets with a stuffed animal that smelled like Skog.

He’s woken up several hours later by Specs rapping on his door as he does every morning after his morning prayer.

“I’m up! I’m up!” the human calls groggily, words slurring. He grabs his sending stone off his desk, expecting to see a good morning text from Skog, who wakes up an hour earlier than he does, but finds none. No calls, no texts, nothing.

His anxiety from last night comes back in force, a sick feeling settling in his stomach. He tells himself it’s okay. Skog probably woke up late and had to rush to get to work before getting swamped in meetings.

He swallows his anxiety, trying to shake it from his head as he walks into the common area.

“Morning to all my losers who sleep in late,” Charlie announces as Phlash, Glib, and B.B. file in. “We’ve got a problem.”

“Don’t we always?” Phlash questions as he yawns.

“Tell me ‘bout,” B.B. grumbles.

Specs waves a hand, getting their attention before silently motioning for everyone to gather around. “We need to get briefed by Ggarok.”

Seeing Ggarok is the last thing that Glib wanted to do, but if the city was in danger then it had to be done.

They beam into the cave, dim and artificially warmed by charms littered around the stone, and see Ggarok standing in front of the console, rapidly flipping through drone–bird feeds that survey the city.

“Professor Ggarok,” Specs says as they step off the teleportation pad, “What’s going on?”

Ggarok looks at them through the reflection of the screens. “Rangers,” he says flatly. “I was beginning to suspect you’d never arrive.”

“Unlike you, we actually need sleep,” Phlash says grumpily.

“What he means,” Specs says quickly, trying to prevent another fight from breaking out between the green ranger and their mentor, “Is the rangers were getting the rest required to fight effectively.”

Ggarok tsks. “Regardless, there is a monster loose in the city. Its rampage started this morning.”

“How long ago was ‘this morning’?” Glib questions, wondering if Skog got caught in it on his way to work.

“An hour ago.” The centaur finally turns from the monitor and eyes down the rangers, his gaze lingering on Glib, though that may just be the blue ranger’s paranoia. “The Bowenburg Guardsmen tried to handle the issue after an hour they decided to call in our help.”

“The B.G. tried handling it?” B.B. echoes. “They never try to get our monsters.”

“It does not look like a traditional Ranger’s Enemy,” Ggarok warns. “It looks like a civilian, but large and brutish. A barely civilized race, barbariac in nature. Said race is the ideal form for a clay monster to inhabit if it wants to exist among everyday people.” He levels a look at the group of Rangers and seems to stare directly into Glib’s soul. “Remember, it is still a clay monster even if it looks like a civilian. You must kill it.”

All the Rangers nod solemnly before spreading out slightly. This part had never been Glib’s favorite. It's slow and too flashy for his taste, but it has to be done because of tradition.

“It’s Morphing Time!” the Rangers say in unison, easy to do after years of practice, with varying levels of enthusiasm.

“Pink Beholder!” Specs, their leader and the most enthusiastic of them all, calls out excitedly. His suit is the best maintained out of all of them, as pink as the day it was made and constantly fixed with mending spells and a classic needle and thread.

“Red Dragon!” B.B. shouts. He’s not excited to defend the city like Specs is, he’s excited to shoot some monsters with his gun. B.B. made the suits but his looks the worst for wear. The once bright red leather is a near blood red as it is caked with dirt and accented by black soot.

“Yellow Owlbear!” Charlie has always been the middle of the road with the transformation. She wants to fight alongside her friends to defend their homes, but she would also rather not be in danger as frequently as they are. Her suit represents that ideal as it is maintained but clearly been used in battles, the yellow is bright but not as bright as it once was.

“Green Myconid!” Phlash calls out, somehow already high despite them just having woken up and clearly not wanting to go into a battle so early in the morning. His green suit is the heaviest enchanted as it stays with him as he wild shapes into a wolf. Glib isn’t sure how it’s possible but the goliath looks high while masked; although, it might just be because Glib knows what to look for.

“Blue Kraken!” Glib, always the last in the lineup and the most scared of them, says tiredly. He loves the city, but he is not a fighter. He’s strong and agile, sure, but that’s meant to avoid attacks not dive into them. His suit looks the worst, but not for a lack of trying. The once vibrant blue is now reminiscent of the ocean at midnight, a near-black blue daunting and unwelcoming. It's littered with sewn-together pieces and magically enhanced to resist more than the others. He gets hurt the most and his suit reflects that.

Specs swings around in front of them, practically bouncing up and down, as he says, “Alright Rangers, let’s go kick some monster butt!”

He’s met with a tired cheer which quickly becomes loud and excited when Ggarok levels a glare at their heads.

They huddle up and in a flash of multicolored, crackling light, they teleport into the city. Glib recognizes the street they are on, it's only a few blocks away from Skog’s Penthouse. The human tries to think about what that could mean as he and his friends identify the horrible monster they are meant to destroy so peace can be restored to their town.

But Glib couldn’t believe his eyes. The “horrible monster” they were meant to be fighting was a familiar orc in a tattered pinstripe suit, but the look in his eye was foreign. Gone are the soft smiles and kind looks he gives Glib over dinner and the low rumbling chuckle that is reserved for Glib. In its place is an orc from legends of old, filled with bloodlust and anger, foaming at the mouth, and not caring about the several deep cuts littering his body.

He lumbers forward, almost blindly, as he swings the broken light post with rage, a rage that Glib has never seen on his lover. Glib stands deathly still and can’t bring himself to move.

“Ranger Blue!” Charlie calls, dutifully using their Ranger “names” in uniform. “What are you doing?! Get the monster!”

Glib’s eyes leave the orc for only a moment as he sees the other Rangers fanned out around Skog, weapons drawn.

Glib tries to ready his weapon, a bo staff that breaks apart into chain whips, but the idea of hurting Skog makes him physically ill even if Skog is a raging “monster.”

The orc lunges at a random civilian only to be knocked back by a firebolt from B.B.’s gun, scorching the orc’s thick skin and causing him to scream. While the sound was logically from anger, Glib only hears pain.

“Don’t hurt him!” Glib screeches without thinking as he darts forward. “Skog!” he screams, trying to get the orc’s attention.

Skog doesn’t look at him and instead roars in B.B.’s direction. It's a sound that should make his blood run cold but instead, it makes him run faster. Skog doesn’t acknowledge him as grabs a chunk of concrete and hurls it at Specs who brings his shield up at the last moment, getting thrown back with the force of the hit and crashing into a building. For a moment, Glib wants to change directions to help his friend but he can’t stop.

“Skog!” he screams once he gets closer. “Skog, look at me!”

The orc goes unnaturally still as he cocks his head in Glib’s direction.

Glib gets closer, moving slowly, knowing his boyfriend isn’t in his right mind. “Skog, it’s me, it’s-” he pauses and glances around. There aren’t any civilians close enough to hear him. “It’s Glib.”

Skog twitches as turns to look at him. His green-grey skin is spotted with dark blood and cuts with black lines that crackle with energy surrounding his eyes and streaking across his face and down his neck. His scleras are black with purple lines that pulse with the same energy. He breathes heavily as he leans down to get into Glib’s face.

Glib stands still. “It’s me, baby, it’s me,” he murmurs. It's unnerving to see Skog like this. Almost unseeing as he peers into the mask and seemingly through it, staring into Glib’s soul with his discolored eyes.

Vague recognition flashes in the orc's eyes as he makes a low grumbling noise that almost sounds like “Glib?”

Glib could melt at the sound but it also makes him want to cry, throw up, and scream, but instead, he just shakes slightly, fighting hard to keep the quiver from his voice. “Yes, Glib.” He slowly reaches up to touch Skog’s face. “What happened to you?”

Before he can answer, a giant wolf in a green suit tackles the orc to the ground, startling Glib back.

“Phlash!” he screeches as he stumbles. “Get off of him!”

“Ranger Blue!” Specs yells as he runs up behind him. B.B. and Charlie get on either side of the orc and level their weapons on him as he struggles under Phlash. “Have you been compromised?! That is our monster! You can’t reason with it!”

“‘It?!’” Glib screams back. “He is under some sort of spell!”

“Ggarok said it is a creation!” Specs snaps back.

“He isn’t a creation!”

“Vaktaan damn it, why are you so sure of that?!”

“Because that’s my boyfriend!” Glib cries, the shaking in his hands having extended to his entire body.

Before any of them can respond, Phlash goes hurtling through the air with Skog getting to his feet far faster than a 7’8” man should be able to. He uses that surprise to grab B.B. and throw him into Specs and Glib sending the human, goblin, and gnome-dwarf back several feet. Before Charlie can get a retaliation strike on him, he’s lunging at a group of trapped civilians on the other side of the street.

“That’s the boyfriend you’ve been talkin’ about?!” B.B., ever the rational dwarf-gnome that he is, screeches as they untangle themselves and get up.

“Well, he’s not normally like this!” Glib growls as a chuck of concrete hurtles toward the trapped group and hits the building behind them, shattering to dust and leaving a creator on the building’s side.

Wolf Phlash dashes past them before body-slamming Skog again, this time knocking him away from a group of scared civilians and towards Charlie. “What are you talking about? He seems so chill,” Phlash says smugly.

“Yeah, you should bring him by for coffee sometime, I’m sure he’d- fuck-!” Charlie yelps as Skog swipes her feet out from under her.

Specs looks at him for a moment. “And you are sure this is him?”

“Has to be,” Glib says, letting his desperation slip into his voice. “He recognized me, Specs, he knew my voice and reacted to his name.” When Specs doesn’t seem convinced, Glib grasps at straws. “He’s bleeding, Specs. Clay monsters don’t bleed.”

The leader is silent for a moment before running back into the fight. Glib has a moment of fear that Specs didn’t listen to his pleas but then the leader shouts, “Nonlethal damage! We want to bring him down!”

B.B. audibly groans in disappointment but knows better than to argue with Specs and switches his gun’s spell into thunderclap, firing a shot at him. The blast throws him forward and off balance before Phlash tackles him again, this time simply trying to pin him to the ground instead of knocking his head into the concrete. Charlie brings her axe in front of her and begins to aggressively strum the strings that run up and down the handle.

“Go the fuck to sleep!” she says, magic lacing her words and suddenly the orc stops moving, collapsing entirely.

Glib runs over as Phlash slowly steps off him. He starts to take inventory of his injuries while also using the tattered remains of his suit jacket to staunch the bleeding in as many cuts as he can.

Faintly behind him, Glib can hear Specs talking with the others. “Clear out civilians and get the B.G. to set up a perimeter and to check for others under a similar effect.”

“Do you think there are more?” Charlie asks.

Specs is silent momentarily before saying, “Can’t rule anything out, especially since we caught this one so early. Tell the B.G. should any others become violent, to use nonlethal damage. They’re just civilians under a spell.” There is a moment of silence as the others leave to do as they were told before Specs approaches the human. He sits on the opposite side of Glib and waves his hand over Skog, muttering in an ancient language. “You’re right, he’s just-”

“Under mind control?” Glib asks hopefully to which the goblin nods.

“An enchantment.” Glib can’t see Specs' face, but he knows what he’s thinking. He clearly recognizes where the magic comes from and the magic recognizes him. “A very powerful one.”

“Can you break it?”

Specs is silent for a moment before nodding and placing his hands over Skog’s chest. “I can certainly try.” He pauses. “But that will also remove Charlie’s sleep spell.

“He’ll wake up eventually,” Glib reasons. “You could at least try to make sure he is back to himself when that happens.”

Specs sighs but nods regardless. He takes a slow deep breath before murmuring in the same ancient language. Glib and the other Rangers are supposed to be fluent in it, but the only one who seems to be is Specs.

The human watches in amazement as the dark lines slowly retract up his neck and face, but Specs begins to strain once the magic is only left around his eyes.

Glib, desperate to get his boyfriend back, begins talking to him, murmuring inconsequential things to him. His hand interlocks with the orc’s, clinging to the dull pulse in his fingers like a lifeline. He can feel Skog react to his touch but his hand still stays loose in his hand.

“I love you, I love you so much. You mean everything to me. I can’t survive without you. Come back to me, damn it all, just come back to me.” He’s not sure when he closed his eyes, nor is he sure when he started to lean over him like he was saying a prayer with Specs, but he shoots up when Skog murmurs, “I love you too, but you make it sound like I’m dying.”

“Skog!” He shrieks, abandoning his hand and diving forward to hug the orc tightly, minding his severe injuries.

“Ranger Blue,” Specs says gently, still exhausted from the spell. “You are still in uniform.”

“It’s alright,” Skog assures as he slowly raises his hands to rest on Glib’s back, running his hands up and down the suit material in a soothing manner as the human shakes like a leaf. “I was able to deduce Glib was Ranger Blue and his friends the other Rnagers of Power months ago.”

“Glib?!” Specs snaps, terrified that their secret identities have been compromised.

Skog waves a bloody hand. “I figured it out after my 5’7” husband was able to pick me up and run with me during an assassination attempt.”

“I panicked!” Glib grumbles, not bothering to lift his face from Skog’s tattered shirt.

“What about the time you managed to dive under a collapsing marble pillar, grab a little girl, throw her out of harm's way, and then catch the majority of that pillar's weight to keep it from doing untold damage?” Skog questions teasingly.

Glib grumbles before saying, “It wasn’t that heavy.”

“They weigh over a hundred thousand pounds,” Skog counters.

“I didn’t hold it for very long.”

Skog chuckles. It is a warm sound, but pained at the edges as the movement pulls on his wounds. “You held it for ten seconds when it should have crushed you.”

Glib says something incomprehensible into Skog’s shirt in response.

“Regardless, after that, it was easy to identity the constant fresh bruises as marks from weapons, not to mention it was odd how he would consistently disappear right as a new monster showed up, regardless of what we were doing,” Skog elaborates.

Specs looks between them. “Why didn’t you lie, Glib?” Specs asks more for posterity’s sake than actually expecting a good answer.

“I tried, but you know I’m a shit liar,” the human answers.

“A truly horrendous liar. It’s one of your best traits I’d argue,” Skog teases, getting an exasperated groan in response.

“So, you know who I am?” the goblin questions.

“Speckles Beauregard,” Skog answers quickly. “The leader and academically inclined of the group.”

“He read you like a book, dude,” Charlie says as she approaches. “And sorry for knocking you out.”

Skog looks at her strangely. “You did what?”

At this, Glib raises his head. “Do you remember what happened?”

“I remember making sure you got home safely, walking back to my house, then rounding a corner and having a fairly painful spell put on me,” Skog recalls. “Past that, nothing.”

“How about we fill you in over some shakes?” B.B. offers as he rejoins the group.

“And I want you to stand up so I can see how tall you are,” Phlash demands immediately.

“Phlash, he’s hurt,” Glib groans.

“If he’s well enough for shakes, he’s well enough to see how much shorter than me he is.”

“She didn’t mean getting them right now! He’s going to the hospital first.”

“And I can see how tall he is before he gets there.”

“Phlash!”

#Business Rangers #Rangers of power #I just think they are neat #Ggarok is a bitch

[jumblejen]

We Were Always Going to End Up Together - Ch 17

Suptober 22, Day 17: Muse

On AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/42237885/chapters/112676137

(Or read from the beginning: https://archiveofourown.org/works/42237885/chapters/106051008)

Thanksgiving was a crisp clear day, cold and biting despite the sun reflecting off the few inches of snow that coated everything. Dean was grateful the snow had come the night before, leaving the day of more agreeable for going out and about.

Dean and Cas had gone together in Cas’ car to pick up Gabe from the airport Tuesday night. Dean had desperately wanted to stay over, but he had to work right up until 5 pm on Wednesday. No way was Adler going to let anyone skip out early just because it was a long weekend. Dean was pretty sure he’d make them work the Friday after too, if he thought he could get away with it. Dean was looking forward to the time off. Thanksgiving at the Roadhouse with everyone today, hanging out with Gabe and Cas tomorrow watching crap tv and avoiding any shopping whatsoever. And then Saturday Gabe was doing his own thing, so Dean was sure he and Cas would occupy themselves somehow. Dinner with Gabe that night and then he was back to the airport Sunday morning. Dean couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so excited about the Thanksgiving break.

Dean had collected Cas and Gabe and were on their way to the Roadhouse. The whole drive to get them, Dean couldn’t help but muse over how this day might go. It wasn’t much better once they were in the car, Dean drifting away from the conversation, ending up deep in his own head.

“So, Dean-o. When do I get to meet that brother of yours.”

With a start, Dean realized he’d not been paying attention to either of his passengers. “He should be there when we get there. Not sure why you’re in such a rush.”

“Well, I just wanna see what the other half of the dynamic duo is like.”

“He’s tall,” said Dean shortly.

“Good to know.”

“Be nice Gabriel,” added Cas without any heat.

“What? I’m always nice. And besides, lover-boy here is pretty dang pretty, so I gotta see the other one.”

“Sam has a girlfriend, Gabriel,” said Cas.

“Yeah, and I’m not fussy about sharing.”

“Please don’t put that image in my head,” interrupted Dean. “That’s my brother.”

“Got it. Keep the nasty stuff to myself. Message received.” Dean clamped his lips together to keep from uttering the biggest sigh ever as he caught a glimpse of smirk in the rear-view window.

It wasn’t that he didn’t like Gabriel. He actually thought the dude was funny and his antics as relayed by Cas definitely hit less on Dean’s ‘annoying’ scale and more on his ‘this dude is like a wind-up toy so let’s just see how this all plays out’ sort of scale. He had a feeling that very few outings with Gabe ended without a spectacular story you could tell. But right now Dean was nervous. He was about to inflict his brother on Cas again, and Benny, and Gabe stirring things up had sounded like a much better idea before he’d spent more time with him. Would this Thanksgiving end in some sort of debauchery or a fistfight? Or something else way tamer than either of those things? No matter what, Dean was starting to dread what seemed to be the inevitable events of the evening.

They pulled into the parking lot a few minutes later, the sign outside clearly proclaiming ‘Closed for private event’, with the parking lot just as full as it was most nights. Dean still found a space for his Baby. The brisk air cleared Dean’s head, as did Cas slipping his hand into Dean’s as they walked to the door. Dean’s tension bled slowly out of him at that touch. Yeah. Maybe this night would be memorable, but no matter what, Dean had Cas.

Dean wasn’t sure which warmed him more, the heating that escaped the door the minute it was opened, or the pleased faces he was met with as they walked in. Something loosened in his chest at the same time his throat tightened with emotion. This was family.

Ellen got to them first and Dean happily introduced her to his boyfriend Cas and to Gabe. Dean was a little nervous to introduce Cas to Bobby, but he needn’t have worried. Bobby had been a better father figure to both of the Winchester boys than their own father had been. There was always that doubt though that the gruff old man would take an instant dislike to Cas. Instead, a brusque but heartfelt “Welcome to the family” was all Bobby said and Dean felt a small weight lift from his shoulders.

Then there were the Banes twins and Jody and Donna and Alex and on and on. It seemed everyone intended to make sure they didn’t miss their chance to meet an actual significant other of Dean Winchester’s. Dean kept a firm grip on Cas, making sure that he knew he wasn’t about to abandon him.

While Cas seemed like he might bolt at the onslaught, Gabe was clearly enjoying himself with a smartass word to everyone and almost endless flirting. Young or old, any gender, apparently it was open season. Dean was glad there weren’t any children at this thing or he’d feel compelled to have them shut their eyes. And their ears.

Despite his height, it took a bit for Dean to spot Sam, but eventually his brother made his way through the crowd to envelope Dean in a hug and a forceful back slap. Stepping back, Dean smiled at his brother. “Sam, you remember Cas. And this is his cousin Gabriel.”

“Nice to meet you.” Sam extended his hand mechanically after giving Cas a brief nod. Eileen moved in behind Sam to give Dean a warm hug.

Gabriel grabbed Sam’s hand with both of his, pumping furiously. “I have to say Sam-erino, it is nice to meet you too. Yep, was bugging Cassie here about when I got to meet the famously tall Winchester. Now that I have, well, he was right about the tall part I’ll say.” Gabe grinned up into Sam’s face, still shaking his hand.

With effort, Sam extracted himself and turned to tap Eileen on the shoulder so he could introduce her. “This is my girlfriend, Eileen.” Eileen also held out her hand.

Gabe shook it gently without saying a word but released her hand quickly so that he could sign a greeting to Eileen and spell his name.

“Do you go by Gabriel?” Eileen signed and said.

“Gabe works too,” answered Gabriel with a wink. “Especially with pretty ladies.” An eyebrow waggle completed the introduction. “You know I could climb your boyfriend here like a tree.”

Dean was glad he hadn’t gotten a drink yet. Cas at his side was openly grinning from ear to ear.

Eileen took it in stride. Dean knew he liked her as she replied. “I climb him all the time. He’s a fun jungle gym” because there was no way in her shoes he would have been able to respond so swiftly. Though he really didn’t want to know that at all. Sam’s face shifted rapidly from white to red to purple all while trying to splutter a response.

Gabriel spun Eileen around so that he had one arm slung over her shoulders and another around Sam’s waist while loudly proclaiming his intention to get them all drinks to further their burgeoning relationship.

Dean and Cas erupted in wheezing laughter that petered out into random giggles. “Man, I knew he’d be something, but that was more than I expected.”

“I think Gabriel may be more than half-serious,” said Cas.

“Well if that’s the case, I never want to know.”

“DDDDDEEEEEEAAAAAANNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN!”

A human cannonball knocked Dean to the side as Charlie violently hugged him and then punched his shoulder. “Hey Charlie.”

“I’m so happy to see you! And Cas! So happy to meet you too for real this time!”

Cas smiled helplessly as Charlie ignored his proffered hand and hugged him too. “Hi Charlie.”

“Dude! It’s so great to meet you. Dean has been so happy since he met you!”

Dean blushed and looked at the floor, even as he took Cas’ hand.

The three of them wandered to the bar and got drinks and then picked a table. It seemed like seconds before Charlie and Cas were deep into a discussion of a book series Dean had never read, each of them talking faster than the other. They’d be best friends in no time. Gabe was smiling and laughing sitting across from Sam and Eileen. Sam seemed to be trying to have a good time while Eileen occasionally threw back her head with laughter. People circulated, saying hi, until someone grabbed his arm and tugged.

“I said I needed to talk to you.”

“Jo, that was like two weeks ago. And you never called.”

“Well this wasn’t a phone thing. Or a texting thing.” Glancing around furtively, Jo tugged on Dean’s arm. “Will you just come with me for a minute?”

Dean stood up. “I’ll be right back,” he said to the questioning look Cas gave him. “You okay here with Charlie? Jo needs something.”

“It’s fine Dean.”

Jo hustled Dean outside where it was still brisk out. “Okay, make it quick Jo. I didn’t even grab my coat.”

“Look, I just need to tell you something.”

“Just tell me.”

“I think I’m in love with Charlie.” Jo looked at him nervously.

“Okay?”

“Okay? Really? Aren’t you surprised?!”

“No? I can’t believe you haven’t asked her out yet!”

“You think I should ask her out?”

“Didn’t you just say you love her?” Dean felt very confused.

“Yeah maybe. But Dean. What if she says no?”

“She won’t.”

“Have you two talked about it?”

“No. And I wouldn’t tell you if we had. But let’s just say that both of you have the same gooey looks on your faces whenever you look at each other and think no one else can see.”

“Then why hasn’t she asked me out?!”

“Jo. You’re great. She’s great. Just…stop getting hung up on shit and ask her out.”

“Now?”

“Don’t see why not. You’re just making yourself nuts not doing it.”

“And you really think…”

“Yes I really do. Go get ‘em tiger.”

Jo gave Dean a big hug and then released him and ran back inside before Dean had time to register any of it. He smiled ruefully. Those two together would be a terror, but who was he to discourage his friends from being happy together?

“I see you still have women throwing themselves at you.”

Dean’s smile widened. “Hey Benny. I’m glad you came.”

“Well, I’m not gonna lie. I’m a little unsure this is a wise decision. But I missed you, brother.”

Benny enveloped Dean in a big hug that Dean let himself sink into a bit. Benny was always a great hugger. “I missed you too. And Cas reminded me that I should spend the day with people I care about.”

“Cas reminded you?”

“Yeah. He sees through me a bit quicker than you did.”

“’Bout time someone did. He meet Sam today?”

“Couple weeks ago. Sam is trying, I think, to be polite.” Dean gave Benny a knowing look.

“But he still has ‘aspirations’ for you.”

“Yup. That’s Sam alright.”

“If you weren’t here with Cas, I would definitely kiss you as we walked in the door.”

“You always were ready for a fight.”

“Never claimed to be a pacifist.”

“No getting me in trouble with Cas. But, as far as Sam’s concerned… I was wrong all those years ago. I shouldn’t have let you go. Shouldn’t have let him get in my head. I’m sorry Benny, but you deserved better.”

“We both did.” Benny’s ever-present smirk faded into something more serious. “Look, Dean. I was angry with you. But then after some time passed and we started texting I realized that you were in a tough spot. I won’t say it was right what you did. But I do understand. And I will call you on it if you ever look like you’re making that mistake again.”

“I hope you do. Cas is something special and I know there’s no guarantees of forever, but I would hate for anything to change because I’m too stupid to get my head out of my ass.”

“Well let’s go inside. Maybe get something to drink or eat. Should I mess with Sam? I promise I won’t start anything here if you tell me not to.”

“Nah. We may have brought Cas’ cousin with us and last I saw he may have been trying to worm his way into a threesome with Sam and Eileen, so I think we can give the guy a break.”

“Now there’s a tactic I never would have thought to try.”

They entered the Roadhouse and made their way back to the table with introductions all around. Jo and Charlie were sitting much closer together than usual, so Dean assumed Jo was successful in asking Charlie out. Cas greeted Benny warmly while also making sure to move tighter against Dean’s side than he was before. Dean didn’t mind and Benny was clearly amused. Dean might have regrets about Benny, but he knew who he was here with. Plus possessive Cas was hot.

Gabe wandered over after a few minutes, looking entirely too satisfied with himself. Benny and Gabe sized each other up with a long probing look and Dean wondered if they were going to have a whole different social dynamic problem on their hands, but whatever the two of them saw, they both reached some sort of accord without saying a word. Strangely, Gabe didn’t try to hit on Benny at all, but Dean figured maybe he’d finally run out of flirty quips. A guy could dream.

Ten minutes after that Ellen started bringing out the food, laying it out on the bar, buffet style. There was much talking and laughing as everyone filled their plates. Sam and Eileen joined the six of them at their table. Dean had begun to wonder if Sam was going to sulk in a booth all night. He greeted Benny politely enough, and Benny kept his instincts under control. Soon the entire restaurant hushed as mouths were too busy partaking of the eclectic meal.

Dean loved Ellen’s Thanksgivings. Not everyone contributed food, but those that wanted to could. Dean had dropped off a couple of pies yesterday, not wanting to have to bother with it today. But on his plate now he had turkey, hot wings, fries with gravy, green bean casserole and some sort of sweet potato dish. And a bowl of potato salad so it didn’t touch the other stuff. Sam looked like he’d stayed towards the greener end of the buffet, but Dean also spied some pigs in a blanket creeping out from underneath a pile of lettuce. Cas had a small amount of most of the offerings, and Gabe. Well. Gabe had put only things that included a sweet element and left the strictly savory to everyone else.

It was an excellent meal with excellent company. While Sam looked like he had comments to make, the only words that passed his lips were complimentary, even if sometimes it looked like he may be physically biting his tongue. Dean noticed that Sam’s critical gaze often landed on Cas and Benny, but he kept things civil, probably with the help of Eileen and for that Dean was thankful.

He couldn’t remember the last time so many of his favorite people had been all together in one room. After the food was eaten, everyone circulated again and Dean got to catch up with folks he hadn’t seen much of since last Thanksgiving, Cas by his side, once again fitting in there like he belonged. Like he had always been there.

Dean had no words to express the feeling in his chest so he settled for kissing Cas soundly in a pause between conversations. Both pairs of eyes shining at each other, Dean liked to think that he didn’t need to find the words. Cas understood him just fine.

#destiel #suptober22 #fanfic #muse #saileen #gabriel #thanksgiving

[padfootdaredmetoo]

Hi! Can you please write a Tommy x wife reader where he has to physically defend his pregnant wife or his wife and baby? Maybe they’re attacked or broken into, or someone tries to kill them, you decide what it is just dramatic ofc. Protective defensive papa bear Tommy is hot like literally so hot.

Thank you for waiting ♥️ hope you enjoy it and happy new year!

XO

Rated: Teen - Attempted murder of a pregnant women, shooting, violence, dead bad guys, panic attackish / shock. Stiches & Kissing.

______

He was walking through a large foggy field, it was complex but ultimately inviting. It was peaceful and quiet as the white clouds billowed around him. The only thing he was missing was you. A feeling sank into his gut that you would be along with the kids soon, so there was no reason to worry. Warm air brushed his arms….

*CRASH & LOUD SCREAM*

Suddenly he jolted awake from his office chair. Life after war left him without moments of pause in these situations. Instantly he was on his feet grabbing the gun from his top drawer. He checked the bullets while running up the stairs towards your shared bedroom. From the landing he heard you screaming and cursing at someone, entering the room he could see a man’s limp body at your feet. Looking up he saw you in a lavender colored silk nightgown that hugged your swelling breasts and large belly tightly. Your stance was tense and you held up a wooden bat. You stopped yelling as soon as he entered the room.

Across from you there was a tall man clearly taken by emotion, his hands shook violently. Tommy looked at him and noted his stance and the pained expression in his eyes, clearly when he took on this job he’d not thought about killing a woman with child. He probably signed up to kill the famous incarnation of the devil.

The heavy pause continued, all of the air seemed to be sucked out of the room as he stood there staring the man down. He was looking at Tommy but the gun’s direction towards you made his blood boil. The man took a sharp inhale and it was quickly made clear that he’d made his decision and wasn’t the type for flashy speeches.

Tommy made a quick dash towards your body, determined to put himself in between you and what was coming. He felt the bullet tear through the flesh of his left bicep which was almost as painful as the heart wrenching scream that you let out. Panic surged through his body and he quickly shot the man between the eyes. He only caught his body crumpling to the floor in the corner of his eye as he turned himself around to see you.

You were standing, hands frantically reaching for him, speaking words that couldn't reach his ears. He gripped your arms tightly, then ran his hands over you checking for anything, any possible sign of damage to you or the baby. He knew he should try to listen to what you were saying but no matter how hard he tried, all he was capable of was touching your flesh in search of danger. His hands were shaking like they did when he was a kid in the war, blood was running down his arm but he was sure it was his so it was irrelevant.

You pulled his body against yours the best you could with the babe in the way. He felt your cold fingers wrap around the back of his neck pulling his face down towards you.

“Tommy we're fine.” The whisper broke through the silence ringing in his head. He let out a shaky breath and embraced you tightly. Desperately needing to hold every part of you as if you were still in danger of leaving this earth.

“Francis!” Your sharp voice called out, despite knowing the maid was in the doorway he still refused to let go of you. “Call the family and tell them to get here asap! I need first aid supplies, and someone to fetch Johnny and the men. I want the house looked over and secured!” She commanded and he cursed himself for being trapped in this trance. He couldn't comprehend anything properly, his whole world was on pause over the possibility that you could have been harmed. That his child could have been harmed. He felt himself shudder and he lunged back into reality, he had shit to do, people to protect. An attack on you was a direct attack on the whole family.

Your hands were always stronger than he thought they could be. You forced him to sit down on the edge of the bed.

“Are you alright?” He finally got the words out.

“No! I am certainly not alright. You’ve been fucking shot. There’s fucking blood everywhere Thomas. Let me look at it!” She started to inspect the wound.

“It’s just a scratch love. Just need to know that you're okay, the baby is okay?”

“We are fine. I can stitch this, it's a clean line.” You stated.

“No time for that right now, I have fucking shit to do.”

“If you leave my side for one fucking second I will shoot you myself. I'm a much better shot and you know it.” You whispered while staring him down fiercely. He could see the fear in your eyes and felt the tremors in your hands as they attempted to control the bleeding. He could also see that you were moments away from losing your temper and he knew how that would end.

“Alright.” Was the best he could do. He had one unconscious man to question, but until everyone showed up there wasn't much he could do anyway. He regretted killing the man so quickly, but it was instinct that had taken over. His accomplice and employer would meet a much slower and hellish death. He was desperate to get to it, but was ultimately torn by his desire to stay with you, claim you. Smother himself in your presence until he was sure you wouldn't be ripped away from him.

First aid kit showed up and she got to work on the arm. “Where did you get the bat from?” He asked trying to focus on something else.

“I always sleep with one under my side of the bed, I have since I was a kid” She answered absently, focused on the stitches. She’d been a nurse in the war, and to this day he had never seen anyone like her. Her work was always done in half the time and more organized than anyone else. He loved the way your brow creased and the way you crinkled your nose when the needle was slippery.

“There, all back together.” She said tying off the bandage. Before she could move he was kissing her with a passion he didn't think he was capable of. The kiss deepened and he hitched up the now ruined nightgown, guiding her to straddle his lap. His hands roamed over the span of her belly possessively causing her to moan softly into his mouth.

You were alive and safe and his.

___

Tag List: @tommydoesntpayforsuits @peakyevans @misselsbells06

#Tommy Shelby #tommy shelby x reader #Thomas Shelby #Peaky blinders #Peaky blinders request #Peaky blinders fic #Tommy shelby request #Tommy Shelby fic

[eepy-pleepy]

It’s Not Everest (No Vacancy)

The neon “NO” is hidden behind an overgrown shrub, so Dean pulls the Impala into the motel parking lot before they can see that it is, in fact, lit.

“Awesome.” Dean says in a tone that clearly doesn’t think so, and whips the car around to pull back onto the dark road. They immediately hit a pothole and Sam’s head bumps the ceiling.

“Ow, wait, Dean, we didn't go check with the office, maybe they just left the sign lit because they can’t freaking see it–”

“No, Sam, every goddamn motel in this godless town is full up and I don’t particularly feel like walking into another musty fucking office just to have them tell me I need to learn how to read. It’s too damn late, I’m too damn tired, I’m just gonna find a pull-off where the cops won’t feel the need to be our 5AM wake-up call and we’re sleeping in Baby. Fuck it.” He emphasizes the last sentence by throwing the car into park, all seventeen feet of shiny black metal successfully hidden behind a bank of tall, scraggly shrubs off the shoulder of the road. Dean kills the engine and the early summer evening rises to fill the silence with the musical stylings of several hundred crickets.

“Dean.”

“We’ve done it before, Sam.”

“I know we have. What about Cas?”

Dean looks over at the passenger’s side. Sitting shotgun, Cas looks back at him, his eyes just a dark glint in the moonlight.

“I can just... keep watch outside.” He says.

“Bad fucking idea.” Dean snaps. “I wake up in the middle of the night and see you out there lurking, I might shoot you between the eyes. You’re staying in the damn car.”

“Dean, there’s not enough roo–”

“Look, Sammy, passing out is passing out, sitting or lying down. This is a molehill, not Everest. I just need my four hours, damn.”

Dean crams up against the driver’s side door, crossing his arms over his chest, leaning his bent knees against the back of the seat between himself and Cas. He’ll worry about bootprints on the leather upholstery when he isn’t so fucking exhausted.

“Jerk.” Sam mutters from the backseat, almost inaudible.

“Goodnight, bitch.”

“Goodnight, Dean. Sam.” Cas murmurs.

“Don’t make it weird, Cas.”

"Goodnight, Cas."

"Thank you, Sam."

Dean gives a little huff through his nose. Cas folds his hands in his lap and turns his head forward to watch the fireflies.

Dean doesn’t like it when Cas watches him sleep. Cas knows this.

But if he doesn't want eyes on him, he shouldn’t be drawing so much attention to himself. This is the fourth time inside of an hour that he’s shifted around, clearly uncomfortable with his sleeping arrangement, six feet of full-grown man trying to figure out how to make three feet work for him.

It's clearly not working out.

Dean's head has fallen against Castiel’s arm. He’s snoring gently, Cas can feel his breath warm through the sleeve of his trench coat.

He shuts his eyes. Pulls his focus down to just this, the upper lefthand side of his body. Feels the weight of Dean's head, the unyielding shape of his skull, the softness of his cheek. Cas turns his head towards him, just to better assess the situation. Not at all to feel the soft tickle of Dean’s hair against his nose and lips. That’s just an... accidental consequence.

Cas feels too big for his own skin. It’s something a multidimensional wavelength of celestial intent should be entirely familiar with, but this isn't the feeling of cramming a Chrysler building into a 5-foot-11-inch frame.

This is bigger than that.

The slump of Dean’s body across the seat means that his head is the only thing supported, and it has his neck at a bad angle. If Dean's an angry sleeper, he's even worse with a crick in his neck and Cas doesn't love the idea of being stuck in a car with that tomorrow. He can't pull Dean more flush against his side without the risk of waking him and sending him into a conniption of bruised heterosexuality, so instead, he carefully lifts his arm. It works perfectly: Dean slides forward, falling to lying down with his head in Cas' lap.

The effect is immediate. The uncomfortable pinch between Dean's brows smooths away and he takes a deep, slow breath, settling against his new pillow and sinking into an easier sleep.

Cas hasn't realized he's smiling, yet. It's a tiny, soft thing, the one he gets when he's looking at something precious.

He is.

The moonlight catches the sweep of Dean's eyelashes, the top of his cheek, the shell of his ear, gilding them silver. His lips are parted, plush and dark in the contrast of the pale light. He's slightly curled up on the bench seat and Cas knows it's to fit the small space but that doesn't mean it's not the most fucking endearing thing he's ever seen.

The short hair over Dean's ear is mussed from the way he was slumped like a grumpy turtle past the collars of his shirt and jacket. Delicate, Cas brushes it right again.

Dean shifts, pressing up into his ghost of a touch. Cas draws back, afraid he's been caught doing something definitely not on Dean's approved list of Things Just Friends Do, but Dean doesn't wake. Cas' hand hovers.

He shouldn't. He should return to looking out of the front windshield and prepare the diffusion for when Dean wakes up to find himself sleeping in Cas' lap. That's what he should do.

The trouble is, nothing short of a fucking catastrophe could pull his eyes away from this. Dean is so beautiful, so calm and easy in his slumber, and he's right here, safe and close and warm. Literally right in his lap.

Cas pets Dean's hair, feeling that dangerous constriction again, something so huge and profound it might very well burst him. Dean sleeps on.

"You should tell him."

Sam's voice from the backseat is so quiet it's barely a whisper, but it startles Cas like a gunshot. He turns his head a margin to find Sam watching him, head and shoulders against the back driver's side door, arms crossed over his chest.

"Did you say something?" Cas tries, matching Sam's barely-there whisper.

"You heard me."

"Tell him what?"

"You love him."

Cas turns his head further so he's not just looking at Sam out of his periphery. There's nothing accusatory in Sam's tone, quiet as it is, or in his posture, cramped as it may be. He looks back at Cas with nothing but the same easy camaraderie he's always shown him, like they're discussing a good book or the lovely weather, not a complete paradigm shift.

In his lap, Dean tucks one hand under Cas' thigh and nuzzles his face deeper against the fabric of his pants. Cas looks down at him again and feels ready to explode into several new galaxies.

"I can't." He breathes.

"Why not?"

"You know your brother, Sam.” Cas says, unable to stop himself from stroking light fingers through Dean’s hair again. “And I’m happy. I refuse to risk losing him in pursuit of something I don’t need from him.”

“You’re right, I do know my brother. Probably better than he’d like to believe.” Sam says. “And I think he might surprise you, given the chance.”

Cas looks back at Sam like he wants to argue, but then just closes his mouth, his jaw bunching. Sam gives a little shrug and sits forward, reaching behind himself for the door handle.

“Just some, uh… food for thought.” He says. “I’m gonna hit the head. I’ll take my time. No particular reason.”

“Sam.”

But Sam’s already unfolding out into the night air, the car rocking as his weight shifts. The crickets are suddenly much louder, invading their little bubble of quiet. In Cas’ lap, Dean twitches.

Sam shuts the car door and Dean sits bolt upright. His gun, dropped in the footwell before he fell asleep, is in his grasp in a blink.

“Sam's just gone to relieve his bladder.” Cas says next to him. Dean squints at him and sniffs, wiping at his groggy eyes, then flicks the safety back on. The gun hits the footwell again with a dull thunk.

"God. Like a damn cashew. You'd think with all that height there'd be more... storage."

Cas is carefully looking forward, and not at the red mark on Dean’s cheek that’s the same shape as the warm spot rapidly cooling on his thigh. Dean rubs at that side of his face.

“Was I…?” He clears his throat. “Uh.”

“Asleep? Yes. I thought that was the idea.”

“Lying on you.”

“You needed to stretch out.”

Dean gives a frustrated sigh. “No, Cas, man, that’s your personal space. You should have shoved me off.”

“It was easier on your neck.” Cas says, still looking straight ahead. “You weren’t bothering me.”

“That’s not the point. You gotta have boundaries.”

“What’s mine is yours, Dean. I have no qualms sharing everything I have with you.”

Dean scoffs, leaning forward over the steering wheel and tilting to pop his spine. “Jesus. You ol’ romantic.”

Cas turns his head to look at Dean. The slightly uncomfortable smirk slowly slips off of Dean’s face. His eyes drop to Cas' lips before he catches himself, and he makes a weak attempt to laugh the charge out of the air between them.

“Man, you gotta figure out your levels. Last person who looked at me like that had me thinking marriage."

“Dean, why do you say things like that?”

Dean’s shoulders shove up under his ears. “You turn eyes like that on some innocent girl she’s gonna up and devote her entire life to you, Cas, I’m just letting you know you gotta tone it down!”

“Why would I turn eyes like this on some innocent girl?”

“Because you’re doin’ it to me like you think it’s a normal thing to do!”

“Dean, maybe you need to figure out how to receive a signal without assuming the other person isn't aware of what they're broadcasting." Cas snaps, then subsides as something like fear flickers across his face.

Dean’s jaw hangs uselessly for a stunned moment.

"Cas. You–"

Cas watches him in the manner of a gazelle waiting for a sudden deadly movement. Dean's gaze flits to Cas’ lips again.

"You. Uh." He says eloquently, and his tongue darts out in a nervous motion. This makes his lips impossible to ignore, shiny and wet in the moonlight.

“It's not Everest." Cas whispers.

"It kinda fuckin' is." Dean says, hoarse.

“Forget it. You should go back to sleep.” Cas says, reaching towards Dean with two fingers. It’s his fighter’s instinct that makes Dean grab them before they can touch his forehead, but it’s something else entirely that bunches his other hand in the front of Cas’ coat and yanks him forward. Cas tumbles gracelessly on top of Dean, and Dean doesn’t give either of them time to think.

At the first touch of Dean’s lips, Cas melts. A tiny sound escapes him, not quite a sigh, not quite a moan, and he’s grasping Dean’s shoulder like it’s the only thing preventing him from falling into the footwell. Their mouths part with a soft, wet noise and Cas meets Dean’s eyes, almost too close to focus on.

His arm is pressed across Dean’s chest from his fall. He can feel Dean’s heartbeat, galloping like an outlaw with the sheriff on his tail, and he understands the feeling.

“Dean.” He croaks.

“Yeah.”

“Do that again.”

Dean nuzzles their noses together, nudges Cas’ mouth in a barely-there brush of lips. Cas touches Dean’s face, dizzy with it, feeling stubble rough on the skin of Dean's jaw. He presses forward, holding Dean’s face like the beloved thing it is, and kisses him reverently. Dean sinks against the door until he’s lying across the seats and shoves his arms up under Cas’ suit jacket, encircling his back.

The crickets play them a love song. It’s entirely lost on them.

When Sam returns, approaching the Impala with caution, he finds his brother asleep with his angel hugged against him like a large, man-shaped teddy bear. Cas glances up, clocking the motion of Sam leaning over to peer through the driver’s window, and there’s a smile on his face that Sam’s never seen on him before.

If happy was what he had been, then this? This is pure, unfiltered bliss.

Sam slides carefully into the back seat and shuts the door as gently as he can.

“I’ll save my I Told You So, but only because you look so cute.” He whispers.

“Sam.”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

Read on Ao3

#destiel #suptober21 #no vacancy #I had no intention to participate in this year's suptober but then #the prompt hit me like seventeen feet of vintage shiny black metal #oops #dean winchester #castiel #wren writes #ao3 #fanfiction #fic rec #destiel fic rec #idiots figure it out #first kiss #fluff #grumpy dean #deancas #one shot #short n sweet #HAPPY 11 MONTHS #destiel anniversary #destiel is canon

[dokifluffs]

Papa and His Baby Owls | Bokuto Kōtarō

Pairing: Bokuto X Reader (female) 

Genre: fluffyyy!! Domestic dad headcanons 🥺 

Author’s Note: it feels so good to be writing again after this dreadful first semester!! it honestly feels weird but I hope to be writing a lot more so I can stock up and give you all baby fever again🥰

warnings! Post time skip!! Kids!! 

gif from @rivaillerose​ ✨

Bokuto huffed as a cool breeze blew through the neighborhood as the leaves on branches swayed in the wind, moving to the natural rhythm set by Mother Nature

With a swift motion, Bokuto unlocked the door to the front door, shutting it behind him

“Y/N, I’m home,” he called somewhat annoyed and tiredly into the seemingly normal house of the bright living room yet you were nowhere to be found

He dropped his heavy practice bag to the side where he normally did as he slid out of his outside shoes and into slippers, stripping off his team jacket and hanging it over the banister of the stairs to the basement

He heard light thuds, clicking sounds approaching from the dim living room, finding Bo, the family German Sheppard

“Hey, boy, is mama home?” He rubbed the happy doggo as Bo sat before bokuto before sinking down to the floor, turning onto his back

“Oh you want your belly rubbed, huh?” He slowly hovered his hands as they crept closer to his dog’s stomach, Bo playfully frozen on the ground yet his tail still wagging excitedly

“Oh you do!” Bokuto broke into a smile as he frantically rubbed his dog’s belly before patting him on the side

“Y/N?” He called yet you were nowhere to be found or heard or seen

He scratched the back of his head until he saw it

A clear note you had left on the table

“Hey kou, I ran to the store really quick to get something. I called and messaged you but you didn’t respond and I couldn’t wait. I should be back soon!” You signed your name with a heart and the time you left

“Hmph,” he pouted to himself wishing you were here to play with his hair, Bo rubbing against the buff wing spiker’s toned legs

He had such a bad practice today, he couldn’t pinpoint what was wrong or what was happening

He ate as much as Kirby did, slept like a baby, he was pumped yet all the balls Tsumu set just went right out of bounds or barely in bound

His serves were no better as they all made it over the net except for a few that bounced over the net but they were just barely in

No matter what he did, it felt like everything was just going wrong and there was nothing he could do to change it

This upset feeling felt so nostalgic

It felt like he was in high school again with Akaashi, someone who kept up with him when others couldn’t

And then it hit him

If you weren’t here to cheer him up or Akaashi, there was someone else

In fact, two others alongside Bo, but he was always a given

He went upstairs, followed by the clicking sound of the jingling of the tags on Bo’s collar and his nails muffled clicks on the rugs over the wooden floors toward the nursery to the shared bedroom and there they were

The cribs of his baby owls

He knelt between the two cribs that stood beside each other, end to end, with Bo beside him, sitting up straight like a good boyo as the two glanced back and forth as if they shared the same brain cells at his little babies, his twins

Bokuto D/N and S/N

The sun and moon of his life that were just a month over a year old

He rest his chin on his folded arms over the corner edges where the two cribs met, his gaze softened as he glanced down at his baby owls

They were so small and they were finally here

They had been here for a little over a year

He could remember the first time you started feeling sick, the months passing as your belly swelled bigger and bigger, confirming the news the doctor had already given you two

And instead of just one angel coming into his life beside you, two flew into his life and he couldn’t have asked for a better life despite all his hardships no matter how big or small

He would always show a smile to his baby owls no matter the anguish he faced

It felt that just being here with them for these moments as they passed second by second

Thunder rumbled as a vicious wind blew, making the branch of the tree sitting in the backyard slap against the backside of the house, just beside their window

They stirred from their late afternoon naps

He could see their comfortable sleep unfolding as he peered down to themes they began to stir from the sound of the storm

Bo leaned in close to the daughter’s crib, sniffling her little curled up fist as their tiny faces contorted and turned sour as his son let out a little pouty whimper, lip quivering, followed by his daughter doin gathering same as she took short breaths, her cries beginning to get louder

His hair perked up like a dog’s ears as he looked down to his babies

He couldn’t and wouldn’t have his babies so distressed, not on his watch

Naturally with his fatherly instincts, he scooped up his babies, each on his shoulder as they cling to his shirt as they sniffled, and he stepped into one of their cribs

He laid down with the two of them on top of him

His daughter laid down and his son sat against him before his little boy moved out of his grasp in a way so that instead of laying on his father’s chest, he laid beside him

He nuzzled his damp little face into his shirt as his whines and whimpers faded to nothing

The two little twins melted into Bokuto’s loving hold, his head supported by a small pillow meant for his son

But to Bokuto, no discomfort bothered him, especially now with his baby owls

If it meant they weren’t crying, that’s what made him content

“Shh, don’t cry, I’m here, I’m here~” he sort of whisper yelled but in a loving, non-aggressive way as he rubbed his daughter’s back, looping his hand around to wipe her eye with the side of his thumb gently

His eyes fell to his son, only to find him already fast asleep, his hands still clinging to Bokuto’s shirt

His daughter did the same as she calmed down, as little hiccups made her body jolt

Bokuto hummed peacefully in the small space with his babies as the storm blew on, blowing away with it the memory of his bad practice earlier today

Nothing else mattered anymore than this moment, this space with his babies

They were so small, so innocent and pure

It amazed him that he was a father to these precious beings

His heart could never stop fluttering around them

You drove carefully through the windy road of the neighborhood until you turned to your block, finally back through the storm that only got worse when you left

It almost felt like a sign that you shouldn’t have left in the first place yet here you were back home, relieved to see Kotaro’s car already in the driveway

You slowly drove your car into the driveway past his into the garage, safe from the rain pouring down outside

As the garage shut, the bags crinkled as you walked with them in hand

You were success in your little journey to get more formula, though it was most likely the last as you were beginning to wean them off of formula to whole milk

The door opened to a dimly lit house

Although bokuto’s car was home and you could see traces of him - his shoes and bag, it sounded and felt as if no one was home besides Bo and your twins

“Kotaro?” You called

Your note clearly had been moved as you settled your bags and belongings on the kitchen table

You were normally greeted by Bo yet he was nowhere to be seen or heard, but this only confirmed that Kotaro was home

The only thing was just: where?

“Ko?” You called again, mindful of your voice projecting up the tall stairwell and echoing, disturbing, as you hoped, your twins’ nap time

“Are you in here?” You whispered as you peered into the nursery, finding it just as you left it

Or so you thought

A warm and gentle light that illuminated stars from the same wall the backs of the twins’ cribs still shined, bouncing faint stars and moons around the room

But Bo was in there

And last time you checked, you don’t remember your son having a giant foot with toes that could barely squeeze through the wooden bars of the crib

As you stepped in, Bo wagged his tail upon seeing you, while also peering back into your son’s crib in particular

Glancing down, your daughter’s crib was empty and now you weren’t surprised

It was only a matter of time before he did this

You were actually more surprised Kotaro didn’t do this earlier

Bokuto laid fast asleep in what seemed to be a very uncomfortable position for his back and neck in the crib for your son, your daughter laid out like a starfish on his chest

Her cheek squished against his collar, face nuzzled into his neck as your husband slept soundly with his mouth agape, light snores coming out

He rested his hand on her bottom, holding her close while with the other, your son clung to his father’s large forearm like a koala

Seeing Kotaro like this, it reminded you of what Akaashi told you once about what he realized whenever Kotaro was having a bad day or time

In order to make himself feel safe and secure, he curled up in small places despite his huge and broad stature

From the lack of messages and from what you heard from Hinata and Atsumu earlier, today wasn’t his best performance

But he was here

“Kotaro,” you whispered as you silently undid the latch, lowering the front gate of the crib as you knelt close

He took a semi-sharp inhale as his eyes fluttered open, mindful not to make any too sudden movements  

“Welcome home,” he breathed out as he blinked slowly, looking down to his twins as they slept attached to him

“Do you wanna move them to the bed? So you don’t hurt your back or neck?” You pat your hand to his head, brushing your fingers through his soft locks, grazing your hand down the side of his face as he nuzzled himself against your touch

“It’s alright. I’m just gonna nap here for a bit with them before they’re too big for these cribs.” He leaned and kissed the palm of your hand before you took it away

“They’re not going to stay this small forever,” he mumbled as he never took his sleepy eyes off of them

“Okay, baby,” you whispered. “Sleep well, I’ll bring you a pillow,” you leaned close, pressing long kisses to his temple and cheek

~~~~~ Thanks for reading! Masterlist for more! Please do not repost anywhere else!

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[mhysa-leesi]

му вℓσσ∂у ναℓєηтιηє

{Gif Source} {Gif Source 2}

Pairing: Dark!Steve Rogers 𝒳 (femme) Reader 🩸.

Summary: "Steve Rogers is madly in love with you and he'll do anything for you to see that--no matter who gets in his way."

Word Count: 4,765 (Sorry, this is a long one!)

TW‼: Non-Con, Smut, Stalking, Yandere Themes, Murder (Description of Side-Character Death), Blood, Description of Gore, and Strong Language. 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI‼

AN: This story contains adult and dark themes, please do not proceed if you are under the age of 18 or if ANY of these warnings upset you! I am not responsible for your media consumption–you and only you are. Also, I used one of the prompts from (@the-modern-typewriter) to describe a character's death, ALL CREDIT GOES TO THEM. 𝒯𝒽𝒶𝓃𝓀 𝓎𝑜𝓊.

AN Cont.: If you or anyone you know has been a victim of sexual violence, please reach out for help. I do not condone ANY of the actions described in this story, this is merely a work of FICTION.

The first love letter was delivered on a gloomy Friday afternoon. The clouds above the city were dark and full of frigid torrents of rainfall. Gold and scarlet autumn leaves whispered against the chilly winds as acorns scattered about; rolling and cracking underfoot as you made your everyday walk to work. You had chosen to stray from your usual route that day, deciding on a new corner coffee shop instead of your normal stop.

You remembered that day clearly, as if it had happened just yesterday. The new coffee shop was a small, hole in the wall with plastic vines of ivy and fairylights rimming the framework of the inside. You ordered rich and dark coffees, with creamy oat milk for you and your coworkers, and an apple pecan oatmeal cookie for yourself.

Your workday was seemingly the same as any other. Pam was gossiping with Susan, and Scott was hiding from Mark, your manager, in the breakroom. You remember you were seated at your cubicle when things turned, staring at the rain against the window, and tapping your pen against your notepad, when you were startled by the mail carrier. He handed you a single, pink envelope with a heart stamp on its flap and left with a mumbled “you’re welcome”. You frowned as there was no return address or other name besides yours. You had opened it anyway.

You remembered how your frown had deepened as your stomach dropped. The paper trembled in your hands as you stared at the small heart sketched at the bottom. You frantically looked around the office for any sign of a joke, hoping to see one of your coworkers giggling at your shocked reaction. But everyone had their noses deep into their screens, typing away at their work. You turned the letter over, looking for a name or a clue as to who had sent it. But it was blank.

And you remembered how you had crumpled up the letter and tossed it as you refocused and finished the rest of that workday.

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Weeks passed before you got another mysterious love letter delivered to your desk, a small bouquet of roses and baby’s-breath with it. And again, you crumpled it up and threw it away; leaving the flowers in the breakroom. You had made a mental note that day to talk to the mailman about the delivery of these letters.

For a time they stopped and you thought you were out of the woods or thought your secret admirer had lost interest at the very least. But you were wrong. Your third envelope had been waiting for you in your mailbox when you had gotten home from work one Monday evening. You didn’t bother opening it as you sent it straight to the garbage.

You were growing paranoid and antsy as you constantly looked over your shoulder. You’d freeze every time you came across an envelope, even if it was just your monthly rent notice or bank statement. You had refused to live like this, in a constant state of anxiety and fear, so, that’s how you found yourself moving into a new apartment across town.

You were met with months of peace, you were finally readjusting to life before the letters. You had even moved in with someone you had been seeing from your new job, Chris. He was perfect, someone straight from a romance novel; tall, dark, and handsome, with a taste for adventure and romance. You were happy with him--you were in love and had long since decided that if Chris were to ask you to marry him, you’d say yes in a heartbeat.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Today was your anniversary with Chris, and the two of you had an entire evening planned. Dinner at your favorite restaurant, a surprise showing of your favorite movie at the corner cinema, and then home, where you’d give him his gift. A red lacy lingerie set with fuzzy handcuffs, and a silk blindfold to match.

Your heart skipped and your stomach alighted with butterflies as you touched up your makeup in the bathroom mirror. The evening had been absolutely perfect and it was about to get even better. You stepped out into the bedroom, dressed in nothing but red lace and a bathrobe. A spritz of perfume here and a mint there, and you were ready to go surprise your man.

You walked out into the living room and seductively leaned against the wall, watching as he poured two glasses of red wine. He turned and froze, swallowing hard as he abandoned the drinks on the kitchen counter. You smirked as he pulled you to him by your hips, instantly locking his lips to yours. He looked down at you through his eyelashes, his deep brown eyes darkened with lust, and you couldn’t help but bite your lip. You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him down to your lips once more.

Your eyes closed and moaned as he peppered kisses along the curve of your neck, tilting your head back to give him better access. His hands roamed your body hotly, squeezing and caressing your dips and curves. Chris entangled his hands in your hair as he moved you to the counter, lifting you up as if you weighed nothing. He pushed your robe down your shoulders to reveal the red lace hidden underneath, and with a groan, he bent to trace the rosette lacework that covered your breasts with his tongue. You hummed and wrapped your legs around his waist, your hands running down his back to toy with the bottom hem.

Chris gently pushed you down to an angle as he kissed down your body, stopping just below your navel to wink up at you. You bit back a laugh as you wiggled your hips impatiently as you leaned back on your hands. With your fingers splayed against the wooden countertop, your touch met something smooth and waxy--like the waxy seal of an envelope. You reached behind you and grabbed a pink envelope, with a wax stamp of a heart on its flap. Your heart seemed to stop as you stared at the envelope in your hands.

You vaguely felt Chris’s lips on your inner thighs, kissing and nipping at your skin. When he heard no reaction from you, he looked up, his brows furrowed and eyes full of questions.

“What’s that?” he asked, “You wrote me a love letter, too?” he winked as he reached for it.

You jerked it away from his grasp, your heart hammering in your chest as you ripped open the flap; ripping the waxy heart in half.

P.S. You should really lock your windows, doll. You jumped off the counter and ran to the windows, each one was locked--except for one. You locked it and double-checked its strength, fighting against the lock as you tried to open it.

“Babe? (Y/N),” Chris said sternly, snapping you out of your trance.

You looked at him now. You didn’t know what to say, you couldn’t think of how to form the words. You wanted to say everything was fine and okay, but it wasn’t--it was far from it. Whoever had been writing and sending you these knew where you lived now, and that scared you. After months of trying so hard to move on from this, you felt as if you were right back at square one again.

The rest of the night was unclear to you. You moved like a zombie, your brain on autopilot as you crawled into bed to hide under the covers until the morning sun rose. Chris asked questions, of course. But you had no answers for him. You had no idea who had been writing them and had absolutely no clue how they had found you again.

Chris had suggested going to the police, but what could they do? No one had physically harassed you, and although creepy, the letters weren’t threatening. And not to mention, you had thrown away most of your evidence. You were at a loss. Chris was supportive, always there to comfort you during the night when you were restless, but that never kept you from feeling alone.

Your paranoia increased tenfold by the end of that week. You changed your daily routine every few days, hoping that’d throw your stalker off your trail, but it never did. They always seemed ten steps ahead of you, whereas you struggled to even think to keep up with them. Your breaking point was reached on Sunday evening as you met with one of your old friends from high school for breakfast-dinner--an old tradition you two had decided to revive for the night.

Things were going good, and you even dared to forget about your own issues as you cut into your syrup-soaked pancakes. Madison was telling you about her newest fling and how good he was in the sack, and you genuinely found yourself happy to listen to the vulgar details. After painting you a vivid picture of her sex life, Madison excused herself to the restroom; leaving you alone with your pancakes and empty cup of iced coffee.

You saw a head of electric blue hair and you perked up. Your waitress came with a smile and handed you a paper cup of steaming coffee and a single napkin.

“Oh, I didn’t order this,” you said with a polite smile.

“A gentleman ordered this for you,” she winked before walking away.

You frowned as you looked at the writing on the napkin. Refusing to even acknowledge the cup of coffee in front of you.

Your mouth went dry as you stared at the familiar handwriting. Brown dress, he knew what you were wearing--he was here. You shot to your feet, the chair scraping loudly against the floor, as you looked around frantically, ignoring all of the judgemental looks and hushed whispers you were getting.

“You okay, (Y/N)?” asked Madison, her brows knitted in concern.

“Yeah,” you lied, “I just… I’m sorry, but I have to go. I’ll call you later, Mads.”

You dug through your wallet and gave a twenty to your waitress on your way out, only stopping to yell over your shoulder for her to keep the change. You practically ran home from the restaurant as your anxiety started to settle in your bones, making you heavy with unease. You called Chris, but were only met with his voicemail. The elevator ride up to your floor was tortuous as you watched the floor numbers slowly light up one by one until finally, they stopped at your floor. You panted as you slammed the door shut behind you, sliding the lock and chain in place as you dropped your head to rest against the wooden frame.

You sniffled as the words from his letter were seared into your eyelids. You just wanted him to leave you alone, you didn’t know what you did to catch his eye, and worst of all, you didn’t know how to make it stop. You choked on your hiccupped breaths as tears streaked down your cheeks. When you finally calmed down you switched on the lights and finally turned around…

You stared at Chris in horror. Blood drenched the entire living room, his corpse sat limp in a chair like a broken, bloody doll. His throat and wrists had been slashed. You tried to hold your hand over the open wounds as you screamed for help, but no matter the pressure you applied, the blood still gushed and seeped through your fingers, oozing down your arm, and dripping from your elbow. The gore of it all brought waves of nausea that went beyond physical retching, the sickness you felt was indescribable. But the smell, the smell was something much worse. Metallic, iron, copper… Your ears started to ring. You couldn’t hear, couldn’t breathe. You could only stare at the bloodstain on your hands and scream.

You left that following weekend, abandoning the big city to move back in with your parents and younger sister. You spent most of your days locked in your room, hiding from the world under the comfort of your blanket and drawn curtains. Days turned to weeks, and weeks to months. You’d look at yourself in the mirror and cry as you no longer recognized yourself as the woman you once were. You knew it was time to move on, but you couldn’t, not when you’d see Chris’s bloodied body every time you’d close your eyes.

You started small by taking baby steps toward your recovery. It started with family meals, then a cashier job at your local supermarket, shopping trips with your mother and sister. Then you eventually graduated to therapy, where you’d stare at a forest green ceiling as you reclined on the chaise longue. Therapy helped and it was admittedly one of the better moments of your monotonous days, you felt heard, seen, as you walked through your own thoughts and nightmares. Your appointments even inspired you to reach out to Chris’s parents for closure, to go with them to visit their son’s grave. It was bittersweet, leaving behind a bouquet of roses for the man you had loved so deeply instead of a kiss goodbye; but it was something you knew you’d have to come to terms with. It wasn’t your fault, that was the mantra you’d tell yourself when you’d catch glimpses of his blood on your hands.

Before you knew it a year had passed since the incident, and in that year, you had not received one letter. You had made a resolution for the first time that New Year’s Eve as you waited for the midnight ball to drop. You told yourself you’d forget, to start fresh, and become an even better version of yourself. You were a flower that was fighting against all odds to blossom.

You cut your hair, got bangs and highlights. Saved up for a brand new, off-the-lot car. And moved into a cozy apartment with your sister. Things were looking up for you and you truly believed that you had finally found your way out of the woods. But life had a habit of playing cruel tricks on those who were naive enough to believe such a thing.

It was mid-February, just a few days before Valentine’s Day, when things started to go to shit. You had just come back from the gym with your sister when you saw it. A pink envelope with no return address or any other name besides yours, with a wax seal in the shape of a heart on the back flap, sat on your pillow. It felt like it weighed a thousand pounds as you held it in your hands. You debated on throwing it away, on pretending you never received it. But you wanted to know what more this twisted bastard could have to say. You ripped it open and read.

You didn’t hesitate as you ripped the letter to shreds, throwing the pieces into the garbage with an angry grunt. Delusional piece of deranged shit, you thought. You raked through your brain for the millionth time since your first letter, trying to figure out who the fuck could possibly be the sender, but you came to the same conclusion you had been coming to for years--nothing. It was agonizing, not knowing who your torturer was. It was your shadow, how could you not know who was living in it? But, no matter how hard you thought, you kept drawing blank after blank.

Your sister comforted you with a glass of wine and dumplings from the takeout place up the street. She was going out tonight, but offered to stay home with you instead.

“No,” you shooed, “I’ll be fine, I’m a big girl.”

“You sure?” she frowned, “It’s no big deal, Girls Night is every Friday night, I can always go next week.”

“I’m fine. Go and have fun for the both of us,” you said as you waved her away.

She left a few minutes later, dressed in heels and a short skirt. You ate the rest of the dumplings and finished the bottle of wine before calling it a night. You undressed down to your underwear and threw on an oversized t-shirt and plopped down onto the bed with an unceremonious bounce. The wine coursing through your system made it easier than usual to fall asleep, and the next thing you knew, you were in a deep sleep, dreaming of a life with Chris--of a life without the letters. It was one of those good dreams you wished you’d never wake from.

Which was why you were so annoyed when a loud noise startled you awake. You looked at your phone and the time read “1:00 AM”, you frowned, it was too early for your sister to be back already. You padded along the hallway, rubbing the sleep from your eyes as you called out for her, worried she might’ve passed out drunk on the floor or something. You stopped as you reached the front room--the very empty front room. Your heart started to pound as you stood frozen, staring at the empty room before you. A shuffling from behind caught your attention, then. And against your better instincts, you turned around slowly to see a shadowed silhouette of a man standing at the end of the hallway.

You stood there for what felt like an eternity, just staring dumbstruck at the man. With every step he took toward you, you took one back. Inching closer and closer to the front door with every backward step.

“Doll, don’t,” he warned, his voice striking you with fear like a bolt of lightning.

Without a second thought, you ran toward the door, fumbling stupidly with the locks in your panicked state of mind. The man was on you in a flash, easily dragging you away from your pathetic attempt at escape. His arms slithered around you like snakes, their hold constricting as he locked an arm firmly around your neck, silencing your screams as you struggled to breathe. You slapped and clawed at his forearm as he pulled you back to your bedroom.

“Please be a good girl for me, (Y/N). I don’t want to hurt you, baby,” he said against your hair.

With his arm still wrapped around your neck, he threw you down onto the bed, quickly straddling you before you could scramble to your feet. He pinned your arms above your head with one hand and forced you to look at him with the other. His face was illuminated by the moonlight. The silver shine highlighting his familiar eyes through the holes of his helmet. You froze as he pulled off his blue cowl.

You were beyond confused, to say the least. You stared up at Captain America, your brain working overtime to try and put the puzzle pieces together. What was Captain America doing in your apartment? And why had he called you “baby”? What the fuck was going on? Were you lucid dreaming? You must’ve looked as confused as you felt because he smiled down at you, gently promising you answers to the questions that you hadn’t yet asked.

“You’re even more beautiful up-close, doll,” he said as he brushed away hairs that fell in your face from your struggle.

Your eyes widened. Doll. The nickname sent chills down your spine as the word flashed against the pink color of the envelopes, against the red of spilled blood.

“You…”

He ran a finger down your cheek and nodded, “Me.”

You paled under him, your bottom lip trembling as you shook your head in disbelief. He frowned and hushed you, caressing your cheek and wiping away the tears that fell.

“Shh… Don’t cry, baby,” he cooed, “I’ll take good care of you, you don’t need to cry.”

“W–Why?” you hiccupped through your sobs, “Why are you doing this?”

“Because I love you, (Y/N),” your stomach dropped as he answered you as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

You shook your head, “No. No! You’re Captain America. You’re supposed to be a hero!”

You fought against his grip, flailing and kicking wildly as you tried in vain to get away from him. You trashed against him, kicking against his thighs with all of your strength, but it was nothing to him--nothing but an annoying inconvenience.

“Stop,” he said, his jaw ticking with simmering anger.

But you refused to stop. You whined and fought against him.

“Stop,” he repeated, his anger coming to a rolling boil.

You shot up and headbutted him. He reeled back and glowered down at you, his jaw clenched and nostrils flared.

“I said stop,” he shouted as he finally stilled you with a sharp slap.

The sound was as sharp as the feel of it. You sobbed as the pain stung your skin, the right side of your face becoming numb from the harsh impact of it.

“Why are you doing this, Steve?” you asked again.

“Because I love you,” he answered again, “I know you love me, too, (Y/N).”

“No,” you exclaimed, “I don’t love you! I don’t love you! I don’t love you!” you sobbed.

“You will,” Something seemed to change within his eyes. No longer were there hints of green in his blue eyes, but something much darker… Something more sinister. You swallowed as you shrunk under his intense glare.

You exclaimed as he forced his lips against yours. Squeezing your jaw until he could slip his tongue into your mouth. You pushed against him, beating on his shoulders as he shoved his tongue further down your throat. He pulled away, breathless and flushed, a ghost of a content smile on his face. You gasped and tried to wiggle away once more, rolling onto your stomach as you did so. A yelp escapes you as you feel him grab your hips, pulling you back under him.

Steve puts his weight on you, trapping you underneath him as he begins to undress you. You try to roll onto your back, but his knee keeps you in place. You fight to keep your shirt on, knowing you wore nothing but your panties underneath it. But you were fighting blind. You kicked up, the heels of your feet hitting the backs of Steve’s strong thighs. He manhandles you easily as he rolls you onto your back, finally ridding you of your cotton shield.

Your hands went to your chest before he could. He pried your arms away, baring your breasts to him with a jerked jiggle. He licked his lips as he cupped and squeezed your breast. You flinched as if his touch had burned you, and in some sense, it had. Your eyes widened in shame as Steve blew on your nipples, the skin hardening into pointed peaks. He brings his lips to them, circling them with his tongue. Sucking, licking, pinching. You press your lips together to keep you from whimpering, and you close your eyes in hopes you can will him away. But your feeble defense attempts don’t last long.

Your eyes snap open as you feel his lips leave your breasts to trail kisses down to your navel, stopping at the band of your underwear.

“Please…” you beg. You bite your lip to keep it from trembling as fresh tears begin to form at the corners of your eyes.

Steve smiles against your skin, “I’m going to make you mine, (Y/N). ‘M gonna make you feel so good, doll.”

You stifle a sob as you feel him slide your panties off past your ankles, his fingers scorching your skin as they explore back up between your thighs. Instinctively, you try to close your legs around his hands. But he doesn’t stop. Steve digs his fingers into the soft skin of your inner thighs as he forcefully spreads you wide. Your pussy on full display to him. You stiffen under his gaze, your face burning with shame as he stares in awe at your spread folds. He runs a finger from your clit to your entrance, dipping knuckle-deep into your channel. Your thighs flex as your body tenses at the intrusion. He adds another and languidly pumps them in and out, curling and scissoring them. You fight against the blossoming heat within your belly. Your shame grows as you hear the squelch of your wetness around his pumping fingers.

Steve presses a firm thumb to your clit and you cry out before you can stop yourself. He pumps his fingers into you harder, faster, as he pulls more moans and cries from your lips. You sob as you feel that coil deep within your belly begin to unravel with every stroke and pump. You fight against your own body as you keep yourself from teetering over the edge of pleasure, refusing to let yourself submit to him. But Steve had other plans for you. Suddenly, before you could register his movements, you felt his tongue against your most intimate area. You mewled and curled your toes as he fucked you with his tongue, his thumb never stopping their firm and fast circles against your clit. You sobbed as your body convulsed with white-hot pleasure, and before you could stop yourself, you came on his tongue with a loud, dragged out moan.

You sniffled as you cried, but whether it was from the intensity of your orgasm or your shame and fear, you didn’t know. The lines were starting to blur for you.

Steve gently kissed around your folds before crawling up over you. He held your face and forced your lips to his once more before he began to undress, leaving the taste of yourself on your tongue as he pulled away with a wet smack. He unclothed himself, then. Stripping himself of his spangled-stars and red and white stripes. He looked down at you with dark, lust-filled eyes, and a breathless quirk of his lips.

You were limp as he folded you to his needs. Bringing your bent and spread knees to your chest as he took himself in his hands. His length stood tall and proud, the tip swollen and leaking down this thick shaft with anticipation. Your legs flinched as they tried to close on their own. You choked on a sob as he wrenched them apart. Your heart hammered in your chest as you watched him tap your pussy with his cock, running the tip up and down your folds as he wet himself with your soaking arousal until finally, he pressed himself into your entrance. You let out a strained whine as he slammed into you.

Steve’s eyes were shut and mouth slightly agape as he hisses at your tightness. His hips thrust in excitement as you clench around him. You whimper again as he slides out, just to slam himself back in. Your body jolts with every lust-driven thrust. He slides his hands under you and brings them to hold onto your shoulders, bringing you down to meet his every forceful thrust. The sound of skin slapping and lewd moans fill your bedroom, your sweat sheen bodies glowing under the moonlight. Steve speeds up, mercilessly hammering that hidden sweet spot that makes you scream and clench around his cock. You spasm and shake as Steve forces another orgasm from you.

“Tell me you love me,” he pants.

You shake your head, pushing on his shoulders as the realization of your situation comes crashing back into you.

His hand wraps around your throat as he pounds into you harder than before, “Say it, (Y/N).”

You scratch at his hand as your vision begins to dot and blacken, “I–I love you…”

“Louder,” he demands, “‘I love you, Steve’, say it, doll, I wanna hear you say it.” he moans.

“I love you, Steve,” you choke out.

He releases his grip on you then, and you cough and gasp for air. His rhythm becomes erratic as his hips drive into you with renewed vigor, “Again.”

“I love you, Steve,” you moan.

His body jerks as his hips stutter to a stop. Steve comes with your name on his lips, and you whined as you felt his warmth flood inside of you. He panted above you, his hips languidly thrusting as his abdomen clenched with his drawn out release. He pulled out of you and collected the spunk that leaked from your weeping cunt on his fingers. He brought them to your lips and forced you to suck them clean.

“I love you, too, doll. Forever and ever,”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*тαgℓιѕт*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧: @hoosier-daddi

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