#takes a punch to the head and reflexes like a damn cat

[benkeibear]

⋆꙳✧༄ Their hand slips

꒰ ͜͡➸ In which their hand (almost) slips and puts a strain on your relationship.

❖ Characters: Toji, Yuuta, Inumaki

❖ Reader: female | AFAB

❖ Wordcount: 4,3k

❖ WARNINGS: Toji being a good husband and almost snapping, getting pushed and slapped (accidentally), Toge using his technique on you, overall sogginess, hurt to comfort

❖ A/n: don’t want to miss a post? Sign up for my Taglist in my Navi! | Part 2 with Nanami, Yuuji and Gojo in works! A big thank you to @kakushino and @suyacho for the brainstorming and making me pull through 🫶

☰ Toji:

Being with Toji has always been a rollercoaster of emotions, but you never doubted his love for you, despite him being rough around the edges. Yes, he might disappear for days, sometimes weeks after a fight, but he never once lifted his hand or indicated that he would physically hurt you. If the fight was over something dumb, you would usually end up in the bedroom to get his anger out in a fun way while making up again.

You don't even know what started the fight today - was it the dishes he didn't do? Perhaps he left the laundry in the laundry machine? All you know is that you've been screaming at each other for well over an hour; your throat was already sore, but you wouldn't stop now. Toji was just beyond annoyed at your little tantrum, at least that's what it was to him. “I said I'd take care of it, didn't I? The day isn't over yet,” he tried the calm way at first, his jaw clenching in frustration when you screamed back how tired you are from work.

Things carried on like this for a while, Toji losing his cool after you screamed at him right away and he started to scream back until you were just throwing around profanities. At least until you said something you shouldn't have “No wonder your last two wives left you, you live like a damn pig." It wasn't too bad, but it was a sore topic for him and his hand raised… simply staying up in the air without ever connecting to your face, but it was enough for you to flinch away. Toji's jaw tensed up further, his teeth almost cracking from the pure pressure, when he realized what he almost did - crossing a boundary that should never be crossed and you look at him like he's a monster now. Perhaps he was and you were right, make it three wives, it's deserved now that his hand almost struck you.

Ever so slowly, he brought his hand down from its spot up in the air, trying not to startle you further when he reached to cup your cheek, the anger in his eyes turning to desperation. Out of reflex, you flinched from his touch, your body still in flight mode from almost getting struck by him and Toji recoiled his hand quickly while nodding to himself. The anger flamed up behind his eyes once again upon realizing just how badly he had messed up. Anger rose up and he couldn't contain himself any longer. “FUCK” he roared, making you stumble backwards just to get away from him before he punched a hole into the wall. You barely recognized the man in front of you since he'd never been this violent around you or directed at you. The thought of drawing a single breath of air scared you with him raging around and you simply held your breath, your entire body shaking like a leaf in a heavy storm, but before you found your voice again, he stormed out of your shared home, grabbing his coat on the way out of the front door.

Relief was the first thing you felt when you finally felt like you could exhale once again. The air was less tense with him out of the room and upon looking around your usually tidy kitchen, you saw the battlefield he'd left behind. The hole in the wall was gaping and your favorite candle holder, the one he gifted you simply because you thought the cat warming its paws looked so cute, was now on the floor and shattered into hundreds of small pieces. You didn't care much for the cushions laying around or the chairs scattered across the room, but you cradled the severed porcelain head of the small cat to your chest as you fell to your knees when the first wave of shock wore off. Toji has left. He's gone now and given how both of you crossed boundaries and he almost hit you, it didn't give you much hope for his return. A bitter laugh crossed your sobs when you thought of the small candle holder scattered and how it represented your broken relationship.

After what felt like an eternity on the floor, you had the courage to get up once again, slowly putting things back where they used to stand before picking up each and every piece of Tojis present. You needed to get your mind off of his departure, he sure would return - latest when he had to get his things - you told yourself, trying to calm the mess that was in your head. Dedicated, you brought the pieces to the living room, where his show was running as always, your favorite background noise in your daily life and piece by piece, you glued the little candle holder back together until it looked somewhat like it used to and it gave you hope - perhaps you could do the same to your relationship?

Once the distraction wore off, you found yourself sitting on the unusually empty couch, sitting in his favorite spot and the silence was deafening. The show stopped playing a while ago, Netflix asked you if you're still watching, and the tears started to form in your eyes once again. Perhaps he will be back soon? Your hope wore thinner with every hour that has passed, only hoping that he will come back eventually one day at this point. Sure, you've had worse fights with him, but it never got physical, this one felt much more charged and intense like all the others before, so perhaps he's sick of the constant fighting, sick of you…

Slowly, you sunk your face into the pillow on the couch and brought your knees to your chest as you wept. His show was now playing once again to bring you at least a little comfort as you drifted off into a restless slumber, the moment where he almost struck you, replaying in your head over and over again.

Toji wandered around the block at first, contemplating getting drunk out of his mind and simply disappearing out of your life forever since he has nothing to offer you but his heart and body, but now he wasn't sure if that was enough - if he was enough and he hated these thoughts. He could have any woman he wanted, so why is he so damn attached to you? Answers didn't come by as he sat down in the park and gulped down a cheap beer, but the longer he sat there, the more reasons he found just why he was with you and how you made him feel things no one managed to ignite in so long. It was clear to him that he would need to go back, that he would need to fix things with you, for his own sake because he'd be lost without you once again.

By the time Toji got up from the old bench at the park it was almost morning already. The birds were chirping softly in the trees and he took a deep breath in, preparing himself to lose you once and for all since he couldn't force you to forgive him after all, but he would promise to be better. He vowed to be a good partner and later on to be a good husband to you and not once did he make you regret trusting him since he was always nothing but good to you. His posture was slightly slouched when he entered the apartment, ready to find the mess he left behind in the kitchen, but it looked as if nothing ever happened here - aside from the hole in the wall that felt like a plow to his guts. That could have been your face, the realization setting in once again over what happened and how badly he damaged the trust in this relationship with his cowardly reaction.

Shaking his head at his thought, he made his way back to the door, only to be met by your weak voice somewhere behind him. “Toji?” was all you asked, your voice sounding tired and so fragile from hours of crying and he flinched, dreading your next words. “Don't leave… please,” You continue and sit up now to look at him. “I'm just here to get my thi- you want me to stay?” He sounded rather surprised that you didn't send him out, cussing him and his entire bloodline out as he got his things. Toji was so prepared for rejection that he didn't even consider you would want him to stay, but you did, so he dragged himself over to the couch where you sat, waiting to face him. Your bloodshot eyes shocked him, have you been crying all night over him? Over the situation, or perhaps the divorce you surely wanted?

“I'm sorry,” was all that he croaked out, his ego crushed and the confidence that usually radiated off of him was entirely gone. He was nothing but a miserable pile in front of you in this moment. It took you a minute or two to fully register his words - his apology and you simply nodded, knowing he wasn't great with words, especially apologies. Silence fell upon both of you once again, unsure how to go on from here. Both of you were uncomfortable with the situation, but you were the first to find your words again, having spent the night thinking about what you wanted and ultimately what you would say to him. But right now, this was all thrown out of the window when you looked at him and reached out for his hands, trying to show that you're no longer scared.

“Listen to me. If you ever raise a hand to me again, Toji Fushiguru, I will cut out your heart and eat it for breakfast. Do you understand me?” You asked with a much more secure voice and it almost scared him because he knew you took that threat seriously, but a smirk tugged at the corner of his lips now. “That's my wife,” he chuckled a little, wondering if he extinguished your flame with fear, but you weren't one to crumble, not from him or his foolish actions.

Unasked Toji whisked you up into his strong arms and carried you to the bedroom, refusing to let go of you for even a second as he smothered you between his arms and chest. Things weren't okay and they won't be for a while, but at least you knew that he was willing to work on himself and that you were willing to stay, so things could be alright again one day.

☰ Yuuta:

You were always Yuuta's first priority and he never failed to make it clear that you knew that there's no one and nothing more important to him than you. Yet he had to save the world as usual, exorcizing a curse here, helping out there and more often than not, you found yourself alone in your shared home, talking limited to texts and phone calls. He tried his hardest to make sure you're always on his mind, even if he's not physically with you, especially then, but you slowly felt like this wasn't the case. It felt like he was running away from home, from you to be alone, to be with Rika rather than you for the old days sake.

This gut wrenching thought became especially painful when you ran into him in the grocery store when he claimed to be on the other side of the world and not in fact in the same grocery store or even the same city. You didn't want to cause a scene, not there out of all places, so you abandoned your shopping cart and walked out, ignoring the hurt puppy look from your boyfriend. Dropping the chocolates he held previously, he charged after you, “Wait, please. Let me explain!” He called after you and caught up with your rather fast pace, but you didn't pay any attention to him, fearing the worst.

And sometimes your own mind can be the worst enemy, as you now convinced yourself that Yuuta was leading some sort of double life, a secret life hidden away from you and you didn't want to see his face a second longer. When the young man held onto your wrist to get you to stop running from him, it felt as if your skin was burning. You quickly tugged your hand out of his grasp and glared at him. “Stop causing a damn scene, Okkotsu,” you hissed under your breath and Yuuta knew he was in trouble by the way you only used his last name, so much venom behind your words. All he wanted to do was surprise you with your favorite flowers and some sweets since he was home almost an entire week earlier and he didn't understand the tantrum you were throwing at that moment. Yes, he did lie to you and told you he wouldn't be home for at least another five days, but he was already on his way back to you, his home. Was he wrong that he wanted to surprise you just to have you jump into his arms five days earlier than initially planned?

The walk home was awkward and silent, the air around you two was charged with strong emotions and unspoken words - words none of you dared to speak until the front door to your apartment was closed and you whipped around, facing him with an expression full of anger and hurt. “Why did you lie to me? Am I not good enough for you anymore?” You immediately asked, letting your inner fear take over instead of trying to think rationally, but Yuuta immediately shook his head. “It's not like that, I promise!” His voice was rather submissive, hating to have fights with you, especially for the dumbest reasons, but you couldn't contain your anger, your presence alone made him take a step back. He knew you would never lay a hand on him, but the air around you was so thick that he feared to suffocate if he couldn't keep some distance. “Don't come at me with that bullshit, Yuuta. You promised not to lie to me and here you are… avoiding me despite being back. Do you have someone else? Do you miss Rika so much that you can't bear to be with me?” You questioned, taking steps towards your boyfriend despite his silent plea to keep distance. It's unfair of you to bring Rika up in this situation, both of you knew this, but you didn't care. The way he was always talking about her started to gnaw at your heart, slowly building a deep insecurity that you're just someone he settled for because he couldn't have the one he wanted. Perhaps he found a better replacement? That was your initial thought when you saw him smiling to himself at the grocery store. Little do you know, he was thinking about your gleeful smile when he came home early.

Yuuta barely opened his mouth after what felt like an eternity of silence when he reached for your hands, hoping you let him explain, hoping you calmed down enough to start thinking rationally. “Please, just listen, okay?” He started, his voice small since he didn't want things to escalate, fearing to lose you as much as you fear the same. You were his anchor, his safety vest out in the ocean that kept him afloat when everything was against him. He made the mistake of touching you, trying to get closer to you when you were so charged and it made you feel crowded, pushing him off of you, so he let go of your wrists. He would have let go if only you had asked, showing him he makes you uncomfortable, but before he could stop it, it was already too late.

Rika pushed you away from him much harsher than he would have ever allowed and he recoiled, backing away from your curled up body after you were sent flying against the wall, several feet behind you.

The sight of your body on the floor and the little noise you let out upon the collision shattered his heart. Sure, Rika just wanted to protect him from harm, but you would have never seriously hurt him and he was in shambles, trying to figure out what to do now that one of his biggest fears had become a reality. It took you a few seconds to realize what had just happened. You were just sitting up and blinking at Yuuta, who looked paler than usual, his body frozen to the spot as he watched you with wide eyes. The way you looked around made him aware of how dizzy you must feel since your head hit the wall - at least there was no blood on your hands when you checked the back of your head reluctantly.

“Yuuta?” You asked him as you teared up, knowing that it was just an accident. The young man snapped out of his trance-like state upon hearing your voice, softly asking him for comfort, but he couldn't give that to you, not if he was the one who hurt you in the first place.

His head snapped around, looking for a way out of here. Perhaps he could jump out of the window, or is it too high? The sound of his heartbeat picking up was deafening, the only thing he heard in that moment and it only fueled the anxiety further. But it was you utterly desperate voice calling out to him once again that snapped him out of his fight or flight reaction. Panicked eyes finally looked at your teary ones and his body reacted on its own. Without a further moment passing, he dropped to his knees beside you and cradled your body in his arms, holding you close. You knew he didn't hurt you and it was just a reaction from Rika, so you weren't angry, but your body still hurt as you wept into his embrace, your body trembling with each sob that wrecked through it. “I'm so sorry, my love,” kept falling off his lips like a whispered mantra as he gently rocked you back and forth in his arms in hopes that it's enough to call both of you down - even if it's just a little bit.

Hours later, neither of you had moved. You were still cradled in Yuuta's lap, arms wrapped securely around you and he still looked at you as if he had just broken the most valuable thing he ever owned. “I’m sorry that I made you angry.” You eventually broke the silence that just felt heavy to you, but he quickly shook his head. “Don't..." It's not your fault I lost control,” he began and kissed your temple, his lips resting against your delicate skin for a moment before you felt them move as he continued to speak. “I should have told you I'm home earlier, the flowers would have been a surprise regardless, I'm sorry I made you doubt my love for you,” he whispered against your temple, earnest regret in his voice. Yuuta knew he was gone too much lately and if the roles were reversed, he would have had doubts as well, so he couldn't blame you.

Unsure how to answer, you nod softly and your hands clutch onto him just a little tighter. “We will make things better,” you eventually mumble, reassuring the both of you that despite what has happened, things will be okay again and you can work past this accident.

☰ Inumaki:

You never felt scared or threatened by Inumaki, he was always more than sweet to you and despite his cursed speech, you never feared anything. He fell in love with you the day he found out you learned sign language for him and he hasn't left your side ever since. You two were inseparable to the point that his friends automatically spoke of both of you instead of just an individual and it was you who understood his few words better than anyone.

Laughter echoed through his small apartment when he pinned you to the bed with just one hand, the other traveling down to your sides to tickle you. Your laughter was one of his favorite noises, your smile his favorite sight and he wished he could tell you, scream out how much he loves you, but he would never dare say such things out loud, scared it manipulates you somehow and you're with him against his will. This was his worst nightmare, one that often haunted him at night and he woke up distressed while frantically searching for his phone. It's the same over and over again. “You're with me because it's what you want, right?” He texts and awaits your answer as he picks the skin on his fingers anxiously. “I’m with you because my heart chose you,” you tell him every time before his phone even unlocks, already knowing what plagues his handsome head.

Your sweet giggle brought him back to the little play fight you two just had and the way you were trying so hard to overpower him despite knowing you would never succeed. This thought never scared you, since you knew he would never use it against you or hold you down when you didn't want it. It was all just playful banter until he wanted to catch your wrist after you freed it but miscalculated, sending his hand right against your cheek with such strength that the slap echoed off the walls, followed by your whimper. You didn't need to push him off of your body, Inumaki got up right away and the tears that started to form in your eyes caused him to panic slowly. He frantically tried to sign “I'm sorry, it was an accident” over and over, but it felt like his hands were knotted up by the speed and you didn't look at him, turning away as the tears started rolling down your cheeks. You weren't mad at him, knowing it was an accident, but it still hurt you - the tears were only a reaction of your body to the stinging pain that traveled through your face.

But the way you refused to even look at him frustrated the young man and despite his efforts to get your attention, you simply rose from the corner of the bed and left the room. Of course he was chasing after you, tapping you, holding your wrist, whining… He tried so hard to get just a sliver of your attention when you clearly didn't want to give that to him right now and he felt wrongfully punished. “Stop crying and come here.” These words slipped past his lips with such desperation, he couldn't even stop himself before saying them out loud and his hands slapped over his mouth the second he realized what he'd done.

No matter how hard you tried to stop yourself, your body acted on its own accord as the tears dried and your feet walked over to him. Your face was one of utter shock and betrayal that he would do this to you, accident or not.

Inumaki pulled your body close and held you in a tight embrace, despite every fiber in his body screaming not to do it. It felt so wrong to him, but he needed you to forgive him for accidentally hurting you and for putting you through manipulation. When he pulled back, he was met with a face full of hurt and anger, which he deserved. “Please hit me back. We can be even,” he signed once, twice… but you looked away, pinching the bridge of your nose as you took a step back to put some space between the white haired man. You wanted to scream and explode at him, but you collected yourself and looked at him with a cold expression. “Can you just stop?! I don't care that you hit me,” you started but lost your cool quickly and it came out more snappy than intended. “We were play-fighting, it happens. But you can't just crowd me and demand I do things… and you surely can't fucking manipulate me!” Your voice rose in volume at the last part since this hurt you more than the accidental hit to your face.

Inumaki looked at you like a kicked puppy, his eyes big and his face sinking into the collar of his sweater further so he could hide. He was beyond ashamed for his actions and didn't want to speak, the desperation clouding his mind and forgetting for just a split second that his words have immediate consequences and despite his best effort to not speak, he can mess up.

With trembling hands, he started signing apologies, begging for your forgiveness over and over until his shoulders started trembling and in a last effort, he signed words that were unclear, but you knew what he meant. “Please hold me." You whispered as he signed it and sighed. Realizing that he's more affected by this than you are and that he really had no malicious intentions, you pulled your lover close, comforting him and yourself as his arms wrapped around you tightly, hands clutching to the fabric of your shirt. "Love,” he mumbled out, knowing this one word wouldn't make you do anything, but it was the first time you heard him say that he loves you out loud. “I love you too,” you whispered back, your cheek still aching from the way his hand slipped, but right now your heart needed healing from the betrayal of getting manipulated. Both, you and Toge were sure that this was a cut in your relationship, but the bond you share will act as a bandaid and you will be okay again, especially since he will be even more careful now.

Networks: @themovingcastlez @enchantedforest-network

#jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen angst #jujutsu kaisen fluff #toji x reader #yuuta x reader #inumaki x reader #toge x reader #Toji angst #toji fluff #yuuta fluff #yuuta angst #Inumaki angst #inumaki fluff #jjk x reader #jjk angst #jjk fluff

[lunaticus-platina]

Werewolf Travis is such a treat to imagine because, well. You know why. Best Boy Travis- coughcoughcough.

Uh, what I mean is, tall + well built + determined is not what you want in your rage-fueled pursuer. I like to think that he's pretty cunning too, like that scene from Jurassic Park where Muldoon tries to shoot Deinonychus then another one pops out of the bush right next to him and he says 'clever girl'. Travis uses his environment well. Blends into surroundings, climb up the trees for better view, when one entrance is blocked look for another etc.

Despite being bigger and more vicious than other werewolves, he's an ambush hunter. Think about his Ninja-level stealth. When he's human it's already impressive, but you won't even see the beast before you feel its maws ripping open your neck. There's also his reflex. He's more of a fucking cat than a pupper if you see how fast he snatches away Laura's wrist from the gun. You fail QTE, Laura attempts to sedate him, Travis blocks her wrist with his forearm. One firm tap! Syringe gone. Fking precise. Always careful, careful, careful. He exerts bare minimum of strength and effort, only the right amount that's needed for the job. His movements are methodical, you see that right? Even the steps look careful. Now imagine how meticulous he could be when hunting his prey.

Another thing, chasing people is his job. Police right? That and 6 years of hunting Silas. You cannot outrun him, especially in the forest. His feet are light as feather, no protruding roots or overhanging branches can deter him. He'll rather toy with you. Why end the fun short? He's been holding back for so long! The curse enables a person's primary side to literally tear out of their civil mask and show itself as a physical manifestation. His Id has been denied for, how long?

We know Travis is hella disciplined, and I love that about him, how hard he works for anything. Family and his job, both he takes so seriously, always putting them before his own needs. Now flip the coin. Werewolf Travis cares about one thing and one thing only: What he wants. Anger him, he kills you. Hungry? Snack time. Hmm bored. He got you in his sight. The hunt is on. Imagine all that dedication poured into his own selfish desire. That is the monster from the old stories right there. Wimpy counselors don't stand a goddamn chance, we need an actual hunter, soldier, any character that knows how to fight and survive.

Also he's a lone wolf. His human side already had enough of his family. You can't tell me he doesn't enjoy the peace and quiet, the freedom and solitude the transformation brings. Near dawn he'll run away, finds a shallow burrow under a tree stump or something, swipe some comfy leaves in there and sleep in his den. Later he finds a dead tree nearby with a small gap in it, hides some spare clothes there so he doesn't have to wake up, wait until night and wander through the forest back home in his birthday suit ever again.

Final boss Travis. God if he were a playable character.....no, no. He's too powerful, best he could be was a support character. At least until dawn characters level badassery is needed to deal with werewolf him. Him being bit at the very end of the game was a small mercy for all of them.

In the route where he got shot in the cell, he was bleeding quite a lot, and yet later he's at family home. Isn't he supposed to like...be resting. Jesus. Carries on like there isn't a bullet hole in him. Got punched the fuck outta his mind by werewolf Laura, hard enough his head got whipped to the side, crashes into a mirror, recovers quickly, grabs a shard, notices it's silver backed, the guy's level-headed alright damn. Arm got munched on, it's shredded, he doesn't scream. He uses that arm like his muscle isn't all torn up and skin chewed open. His pain tolerance is gooood.

I bet if werewolf Travis is charging at you, and you fire a few normal bullets at him, he'll just shrug them off and pounce. If he's close enough he'll just, fucking, dash through the raining bullets, endure a few hits on the way, and kill, unlike other werewolves that are scared away by gunshots. He doesn't whimper, he doesn't whine, or howl. He growls. Snarls. Roars into the night. He's so fucking angry. He'll rip you apart.

#travis hackett #the quarry #werewolf travis #werewolf #headcannon #i love youuuuu one wolfy boy #oh oh! kill your mom and said it was an accident! wolves did nothing wrong! #sheriff hackett #rant #alternative universe #au idea #fic idea

[dreamcatcherrs]

toxic - sapnap x reader

+ this is an entry for the writing competition hosted by @salinesoot​! go and show them some love<3

++ DISCLAIMER; in no way do I claim that sapnap is addicted to any form of drugs. this is all just fiction! with that I hope you enjoy this longer story :)

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: drug addict/ex-lovers au! addict!sapnap x addict!reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: months after your break-up, nick reaches out to you to put a peaceful ending to the disastrous fall of your relationship. the meet-up is rough; you're not willing to comply with anything he’s saying, and he just can't seem to get over the state he sees you in once he arrives.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 5.952

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: !ADDICTION! drugs, alcohol, smoking, break-ups, swearing, manipulation (?), abandonment.

I want to put a very big emphasis on addiction, as I don't want to trigger anyone! if you feel in any way uncomfortable with the things listed above, please don't continue reading :) thank you.

playlist:

save your tears - the weeknd

so high - doja cat

apocalypse - cigarettes after sex

high - sivik

habits - tove lo

champagne problems - taylor swift

the silence in the room was violent - it lay like a thick fog between you; hard to breathe in, hard to see through. not to mention the rays of sunshine hitting your back through the windows behind you, glowing into his clear eyes and burning you up inside. but not in a nice way - not in the same way that the first intake of the tip of a cigarette would once set to a flame; not in the same way the almost glowing row of white would once going up your nose and through your system. no, this kind of burn felt claustrophobic, not freeing or euphoric at all. it felt awful - but not as awful as his sorry eyes staring over your body like you were the entrance to a pity party.

a quiet flicker sprung from the lighter in your hand, a small flame glowing under the shade of your frame. your brows furrowed slightly as you lifted the lighter to the death stick sat between your lips, silently lighting it and immediately sucking the sweet smoke right into your tired body like it was oxygen to you. removing the cigarette from your lips and letting it hang from your index and middle finger, you blew out the smoke in one big puff, eyes meeting his.

“so... what do you want?” you snarled at your ex-lover, leaning back on your seat on the counter to lean your weight on your right hand - the one without the cigarette -, watching as he inhaled through his mouth slightly, only to quickly close it again once catching some of the smoke in his mouth. he waited till the cloud was gone to speak up;

“can you... not do that in here?” was the first thing he could say to you. one year after leaving you, and that’s the first thing he has to say? it made you scoff, but you chose to put out the cigarette in the ash tray beside you anyways. funny how times can change so quickly.

he cleared his throat before adding; “I don't smoke anymore - I’ve been clean for nine months now.”

the way he said it with such pride, such happiness - it angered you. was it because you were the one sitting in the dust and ashes of addiction, and not him? well, you both knew it wasn't. or at least he would if he had a sense of memory, which you guessed he had.

all you could do was raise your eyebrows at his words, arms crossing over your chest after bouncing off the kitchen counter. “I asked you a question nick - not for an update of your wonderful life,” you spat, squinting your eyes at him. his eyes somehow softened, and you just hated to see it. because you knew it made your heart beat just a little bit faster. you knew it brung back memories that you both despised and at the same time absolutely loved to have.

he moved away from the fridge he had been leaning his back against, scratching the back of his neck as he looked at the ground instead of your eyes.

“I came to apologise.”

“for what?”

“for… everything.”

it was at the biggest college party of the year for newcomers that he met you.

he was high. he’d spotted you in the crowd, looking like a lost puppy. was that what made him come to you? no, but he couldn’t deny the fact that your innocent complex caught his attention. throughout the night, his eyes would gaze away from the conversation he had with his friends and over to you, and after a nice two rows of heroin through his nostrils, bubbling his blood and dilating his pupils, was when he noticed the guy approaching you. grabbing you, twirling your hair around his finger when you were clearly uncomfortable with it. and as if he hadn't already had about 3 already, he chugged a whole can of beer all in one go, before pushing himself out of the chair he was sat in. clay and george mumbled something in drunk behind him that his ears blocked out anyway as he moved towards the douche in front of you, combing a had through his hair.

he made it to you just as the guy grabbed your thigh with his rough, dirty fingers that god knows where had been, and with complete fury and the world spinning around him, nick grabbed the guy by his shoulder, turning him around to be met with his fist. when the realisation hit you, you visibly gasped (not that he could hear it over the loud music or the ringing in his ears), watching in shock as the guy stumbled back into the cupboard behind him, hand reaching up to grab his eye. the people around you seemed to notice as well, some stepping back a little in shock, some taking photos, some laughing and wooing for more. when nick noticed that the guy was about to get up again, and to his knowledge about to throw some punches back at him, he quickly grabbed you by the waist, pulling you to his side.

“get your filthy hands off my s/o,” he snarled, drunkenly and not very intimidating, but still made for a good effort. he didn't notice the way you'd tried to hide your disgust when smelling his alcoholic breath and his scent of weed - everything was hard to pay close detail to when in a drunken state like his.

to nick’s surprise, the guy, who by the was was way bigger than him and could probably easily take him down in one hit, backs away with a bleeding nose, and everyone else returns to partying as normal.

he turns to you, and you’re blushing. either that or you’ve just taken 10 shots in a row, but that was clearly not the case. your lips moved, but he would have to have the most powerful ears to be able to hear you over the loud music pumping through his body. so instead he leans down, lips hovering by your ear.

“what?” he slurred, loud enough for you to hear, and as if your cheeks weren’t already burning, his close proximity to you sure didn’t help. from behind, a couple of giggling girls shoved into him to get over to the counter filled with alcohol, causing him to push you further against the cupboard. his hand landed on your hip in reflex, preventing him from literally falling into you.

quickly you uttered out into his ear, louder this time; “I- I said thank you,” and closed your eyes tightly in embarrassment, because why did you have to stutter? and why did this drunk mess of a guy have to be so goddamn attractive?

he took a step back, letting his hands fall with him. he looked back at his friends - clay glancing over at him, laughing confusedly, while george was busy downing a shot with karl. he ignored clay’s signal to come back to the table, and instead leaned over to your ear again.

“you wanna get out of here?”

your eyes widened. why did this complete stranger want to leave one of the biggest parties with you? it would be stupid to say yes, yet something in you strived to know what the night could turn out like if you did. it’s not like you had much fun anyway, and what the hell, your life isn’t one filled with surprises, so what was one night filled with them gonna change?

“so... you’re a first year’er?” nick inhaled deeply, the smoke from the blunt of weed between his lips going straight to his head. you nervously scratched your elbow, kicking a harmless rock that was in the way of your path as you nodded. the smell from the stick of weed in his hand went through your nostrils, tickling your nose in a not-so-pleasant way. you chose to ignore this though, not wanting to seem fussy.

“yeah. but parties are not really my forte, in case you hadn’t noticed,” you laughed quietly, folding your arms over your chest when a cold breeze fanned your body. he turned to look at you with slightly squinted eyes, taking in your sober self.

“well, have you ever tried weed? cause I’ll tell you; everything can be a party with this shit.” he laughed at himself, sucking in smoke once again from the blunt, before turning to see you shake your head. he suddenly passed it in your direction. you stared down at it, a trail of smoke rising from the tip of it, before looking at him again. “wanna try?”

he didn't look too bothered wether you said yes or no - just high and drunk out of his mind, which actually made him look kinda peaceful and… cute? what the fuck. you shrugged your shoulders, grabbing the stick of weed from between his fingers. it was the start of college - everyone does this, right?

“do I just… inhale?” you asked, clearly a rookie and non-professional weed-smoker. he chuckled, stopping in his tracks, making you stop as well, as he fished out something from the pocket of his jacket; a lighter.

“yeah, you just gotta light it again cause of the wind. just treat it like a cig.” you raised your eyebrow at him, watching as he stepped closer to you with the lighter, waiting for you to put the blunt between your lips, and when you didn't was when he noticed your confusion and raised eyebrow. he looked shocked. “you've never smoked a cigarette before?” you shook your head, swinging your arms along with their place inside the pockets of your jacket, a lopsided smile forming on your face. his eyes widened further. “drugs? alcohol? nothing?” you gave an innocent smile, flashing your teeth at him as you shook your head. he raised his eyebrows. “damn. well, it’s no shocker to me that you don't like parties then. you've never tried real partying.”

he softly took the blunt from your hand, gesturing for you to open your mouth, before tucking it between your parted lips. he moved closer to you, close enough so he could focus on protecting the flame from the wind using his hand, and holding the lighter up to the tip of the weed stick. “this’ll be fun,” he mumbled to himself, igniting the lighter. “now you just inhale and then eventually blow out the smoke. it might burn to start with, but fuck does it feel good afterwards.”

you did as he said, squinting your eyes as you inhaled the smoke, feeling your throat burn with every passing second you of inhaling, and before you had the chance to blow it into a cloud casually, you coughed out all of the smoke, choking on the pure taste and burn of weed. he chuckled lightly, patting your back gently as he watched you gasp for fresh air.

“alright alright, not too bad.” he took the blunt once you handed it over to him again, easily inhaling the smoke like it was nothing to him, before blowing it out into the fresh september air in different sizes of ‘o’s. you watched in amazement as he did so, wondering how long you’d have to smoke for, for a person to be able to do that. your guess was quite a while.

he handed it over to you again, encouraging you to take it. you did. “here, keep it.” he sent you a dopey smile, watching as you took it. you placed it in your mouth just as the wind passed through you again, making your body shiver very obviously. you were stupid to not bring a jacket. in your defense, you thought that you wouldn’t have stayed long at that party anyway; not that you’d be here, walking through an empty playground with a stranger. well, not a stranger anymore - nick was his name, as you’d come to learn.

he noticed your freezing self as you inhaled again, the smoke making you cough again even when you tried your hardest not to. busy getting your oxygen under control, you didn’t notice him taking off his leather jacket before it hung heavy on your shoulders, immediately giving warming you up from the body warmth it had consumed from him.

you moved the stick out of your mouth, looking at him with a raised eyebrow, trying to play his gesture off cool. “what are you doing? you’ll freeze.”

he scoffed playfully, inhaling the fresh smell of the cool air. “I’m drunk out of my mind right now. you think I even think about what temperature it is right now?” you giggled at that. it was crazy how your cheeks were able to grow so warm despite the cold breeze flushing over you constantly, hands tugging the jacket tighter to yourself.

“thank you,” you quietly said, a small smile spreading across your face. your head started feeling empty - a good kind of empty, causing you to smile even more without even noticing. the sudden release of dopamine in your brain was causing you to feel lighter - that’s what it was, you thought.

without realising, your eyes had been closed and you’d stopped walking anymore, just taking in the feeling and the nice, fresh air hitting your skin in small waves. you felt a hand on your back, and then heard a quiet laugh from beside you. you turned in the direction, opening your eyes and smiled up at the handsome creature of a male in front of you. he smiled along with you, looking into your clouded eyes with his reddened ones, placing his hands on your neck softly.

he started laughing. and you started laughing. you placed your hands on top of his, leaning in closer to get a better look at his eyes. they looked like a cave filled with shiny crystals if you looked close enough. and you’d still be looking into them when he kissed you if he hadn’t closed them.

it was mainly a very toothy kiss, your white pearls clanging together as your smiles stayed on your faces throughout the kiss. when he pushed his tongue in between them though, they slightly faltered, and your hands flew up to hold his face in your hands as he started kissing you harder and with additional sloppiness.

you pulled away to catch your breath, and before he had the chance to lean in for a second kiss, you placed the marijuana between your lips, spending him a playful smile as you sucked in the burning smoke.

were you high or were you just crazy about this guy that you barely even knew? at that very moment you felt that the answer was both.

your brows furrowed. he actually looked… sorry? you weren't sure if you were willing to hear what he had to say - after all he’d put you through. but… something made you listen. something made you wanna give him the chance to speak up. maybe it was the soft spot you had for him in you heart, that you so badly wanted to deny yourself was there.

“look… I know I’m the reason you've ended up like this. I’m the reason you can't even let go of that pack of cigarettes in your hand. and I can't stop thinking about that every single day. I- I ruined you, y/n. and I realise- well, I’ve realised this a long time ago - I just left you here to rot. all alone. I fucked you up, and left you to deal with it all alone. and I’m really fucking sorry about that. I treated you so badly and got you into things you probably wouldn't have gotten into if you'd never met me...” he trailed off, a solemn look in his eyes, almost glowing as they stared compassionately into yours.

you broke away from them, a soft frown on your face as they trailed off to the wine shelf stacked with bottles of alcohol behind him. he was right. you knew he was. but it didn’t explain why he came here. to seek your sympathy? for you to accept his apology? to give him that form of closure? you weren’t really sure if he deserved that.

he saw the look on your face, and figured he’d continue; “I don’t expect you to accept my apology or... stop being mad at me. I just wanted to come here to finish things the right way instead of the way we left it. well, the way I left it.” all of a sudden he stopped in his tracks, eyes focused on your arm. his eyes widened once noticing the bruise on the inside of your elbow, clearly from some type of syringe or needle. he would know what that looked like.

he took swift steps towards you, grabbing your arm in shock. you were worse than he had thought. you looked down in shame when his eyes tried meeting yours.

“y/n,” he said seriously, very carefully rubbing his thumb across the mark. “you need help. like, serious help. you can’t keep doing this to yourself.”

with that, you tore your arm away from him, staring into his eyes with your eyebrows furrowed and teary-eyed. “why do you care? since when did you ever care, nick? I don’t understand why you’re here - you don’t really want to help me.” you stepped away from him, heading over to the pile of ashes from the previously smoked cigarettes to get another one, but were stopped by his hand grabbing your arm.

he hugged you.

you sobbed into his shoulder,

and hugged him back.

you swallowed a big gulp of air, craning your neck as your eyes rolled to the back of your head. a pleasurable smile appeared on your face, the sweet feeling of cocaine rushing through your system being the cause of it. you lay down on the flat rooftop of the college gym, inhaling the smoke from the already ignited cigarette between your two fingers. you blew the smoke out into the air in small rings, like nick had showed you, happily succeeding in it. needless to say, you'd done it for what felt like a million times before.

nick grabbed your hand from his place on the roof beside you. you turned your head to look at him, squeezing his hand in the process. he moved closer to you, lifting your hand to his lips before placing a wet kiss onto the back of it. he gestured for you to place the cigarette between his lips, and you did so, holding it in place as he inhaled the smoke like you had. when you moved the cigarette away from him though, he pushed you closer to him by the back of your neck, placing this lips on yours in time for him to blow the smoke from his mouth into yours, catching you by surprise.

you waited till he’d moved away again to blow the smoke out, turning your head as you did so so that he wouldn’t get it in his face. he laughed at the way your eyes had widened, leaning over you to place a kiss on your flush cheek.

“did you like that?” he asked with a raspy voice, followed by a giggle and still holding your hand in his as he clung it to his chest. you looked up at him with a pouty smile, watching as his eyes crinkled at your soundless response.

“you know… we’re probably not allowed up here,” you muttered, tracing figures onto his palm

“yeah, we’re not allowed many things. including all of this cocaine, but I don't plan on stopping,” he replied nonchalantly, clawing up some of the white, illuminating powder onto his finger, sniffing it up his nose with one large inhale, before exhaling deeply in satisfaction. you watched as he did so, and it made your chest turn. something about this felt wrong all of a sudden. you felt bad, ashamed to even be sat on a roof at 2 am, doing drugs and smoking weed, when you really came here to study and make friends.

your thoughts did not just swim away once he started leaving small little pecks onto your neck, hair tickling your jawline with bubbly giggles flying past his lips. you gently pushed him off, letting go of his hand and standing up from the rooftop. your sudden distress did not go unnoticed by nick, though, and he stood up with you, stumbling, but standing, watching as you threw the remains of the cigarette onto the ground, and looked off onto your campus with a clenched jaw and stern look on your face.

nick was confused, and a little uncertain with what he should do. you'd never acted like something was wrong before, so he didn’t exactly know what to do in this type of situation. all he could do was walk over to you, standing by your side as he looked off into the same direction as you. his eyes glanced over to you every now and then, chewing on what to say exactly. he tried saying something, but stopped himself before he had the chance to even let out a squeak.

“is.. what- argh. did I do something wrong?” he finally spoke, frustrated with his own form of speech. you turned your head to him, your small smile causing relief to rush through his body. when you responded with a ‘no’, he felt a little better, but that still didn’t stop him from seeing right through that smile and into your worried self. “well, what's wrong then?”

what's wrong? you almost wanted to ask yourself that question. why would you want to ruin such a nice moment with him just because of some doubt? maybe it was because you thought that all good things wouldn't last, and that whatever this was between you was too good to be true. or maybe it was the fact that you could feel your lungs set on fire just thinking of every bad thing you’d consumed into your previously healthy body, head feeling empty, but at the same time heavy enough to keep all of the bad things inside of it to weigh down on you. maybe it was because you'd never felt so unlike yourself before as you do now, and you weren't so sure if that was a good thing anymore.

when you told him this (well, the parts about the drugs, not your feelings), he sighed heavily, placing a hand on your shoulder to fully turn you to face him. “y/n,” he started, moving his hand up to your cheek and brushing his thumb over your cheekbone, sending you a lopsided grin. “you're overthinking too much.” you raised your eyebrows slightly, looking at him with a mix of confusion and hope in your eyes. he continued; “we’re just having fun. there’s noting wrong with that! isn’t that what college is all about?”

he did his best to assure you that nothing was wrong, and it seemed to be working. you eased up - he could feel it -, yet you still had that worried expression stuck on your face, and he knew he had to do something to change that. he kissed you softly, cold nose touching yours in the process. you couldn’t help but to kiss him back, placing your hands on the sides of his neck as you closed your eyes tightly, wanting nothing more than to get lost in his lips.

when he pulled away, the tip of his index finger lightly bopped your nose, causing the very least of a smile to form on your face. that made him smile. “don’t worry, baby,” he assured you, kissing your forehead before fishing the metallic circle-shaped box out of his pocket, offering you some of the addicting white powder by handing it to you. “we’re in this together.”

his phone buzzed on the coffee table, the waves of vibrations feeling as if they filled up the entire room. someone was calling him, and you only just managed to see that the caller ID was someone named “rose” before he dismissed the call. as far as you could remember, he’d never even met someone by that name.

he put his phone in his pocket, doing up the zipper before staring across the table and over to you again. his brushing off didn’t help your curiosity from spilling out. “aren’t you gonna get that?” you questioned, wiping the wetness on your cheeks away fully from your previous outburst of tears. you could still see the tear stains on his shirt.

he shook his head. “I have more important matters right now.” your heart warmed at his words and you hated to feel that. of course you’d been on his social media since your break-up - you knew very well that the girl calling was his new girlfriend. and as much as you hated yourself for feeling it, you couldn’t help the jealousy from flaming up inside of you. you decided to hold back from saying more about it, though, knowing that it would just be your hurt and anger talking.

he stared at you for a while with droopy puppy eyes, and it made you hate this moment even more, moving around in your seat to distract yourself from the situation. but then his hand was on yours, squeezing gently like he’d done so many times before. you tried not looking into his eyes, cause you knew it’d make you weaker, but it was so damn hard when all you could feel was his eyes burning into your skin, the pity from him seeping right into you. it made you feel awful.

“I want to help you, y/n. get you out of this shithole I put you in in the first place,” he explained lowly, rubbing his thumb across the back of your hand. tingles trickled up your arm and down your spine, a knot forming in your stomach. you looked down at the table, away from him. “I still care for you, you know?” he gave your hand a squeeze, wanting you to look at him again.

you didn’t.

he sighed.

letting go of your hand, he stood up from the chair. your eyes followed him as he walked over to your side of the table, pulling out the chair that was right beside you and taking a seat on it. he looked at you for a while, taking in the way you looked.

your eyes were bloodshot, red streaks coming out from the beautiful crystal in the middle of your eye. those deep and dark bags under your eyes weren’t there before, the cause of them being so very obvious. you were thinner, frail, weak. you looked as if you would break if he as much as lay a finger on you - like you’d turn to dust if he tried reaching out to you. if he tried to save you. it was soul-crushing to see you in this state. he couldn’t believe he’d done this to you.

you noticed his staring. he didn’t care. you needed to know this had gone too far, even if he was the cause of it.

he pulled his phone out of his pocket, pulling up a list of names and numbers on his phone from his contacts. he gave you his phone.

“these are the places I went to when I tried getting clean. it’d be no problem getting you in there. you just have to try. have to want the help. that’s all I ask from you.” you scrolled through the contacts slowly, like it’d make a difference to the foreign names on the screen.

“nick, I-,” you sighed and shook your head. “I don’t know if I can do this.”

“of course you can,” he assured you, grabbing your hand once again. you turned your head to him, heart pumping louder in your chest as you stared at him. you missed him, you realised. “you won’t be alone.”

it all happened so fast.

you pulled him to you by his hand, yours coming up to grab his cheek softly to simultaneously pull his face to yours, closing your pained eyes tightly and-

“what are you doing?”

your voice boomed through the dark room. you stood with crossed arms and a tired look on your face, having just woken up by the rustling coming from the living room, only to find your boyfriend packing his stuff with tear-stained cheeks. worry shot through your tired body as you watched him halt, staring back at you with a startled expression on his face.

“y/n? wh-why are you awake?” he quickly shoved a shirt of his into the duffel bag in his hands, running a hand through his hair as he looked at you with baggy eyes.

your eyebrows furrowed. you knew what this looked like, and you realised exactly what was happening. he was leaving you. he’d been distant for the past few weeks, but you never thought it was because of you. you thought that, maybe, it was just a phase. because, he would never really leave you. would he?

you took a step towards him. “nick are you… leaving me?” you could feel the tears well up in your eyes when you heard yourself say it out loud. you felt like you’d just been hit by a truck, lungs failing and body crashing down. you didn’t understand. you didn’t understand at all.

he didnt answer, just looked down in shame? sorrow? you didn’t care. how could he leave you? how could he? you wanted to pinch yourself to wake up from this horrible dream- no. from this nightmare. but this wasn’t just a nightmare - it was reality. this was really happening.

“I-I don't understand, nick. don't you l-love me?” you sobbed, feeling your wet tears trickle down your face. here they came. the tears you hadn’t cried for so long now.

he softened up at the sight of you crying, wanting so badly to hug you, comfort you, but knowing that he couldn’t let himself. he had to leave somehow. leave this town, this drug-filled life. he had to escape it, and he knew that he wouldn't be able to with you.

“I can't stay here, y/n. I have to go,” he muttered lowly, grabbing his headphones from the coffee table and stuffing them into the bag as well. he started packing again.

“wh-why? I thought things were good between us?”

“they're not, y/n!” he yelled suddenly, causing you to step back slightly. he turned to you, a wild look on his face as his arms flailed around in the air. “I’m sick of only being able to feel good because I’m drugged up or drunk. I’m getting clean.”

he packed the last couple of things into the bag, scanning the room quickly to make sure he got most of it with him, before taking haste steps over to grab his jacket from the coat hanger. you followed after him with just as fast steps, heart beating out of your chest. was this the last time you were gonna see him? no. you refused to believe that.

“b-but you can't just leave me!” you pulled at his arm, tugging him over in your direction as he struggled to slide his leather jacket on. he looked at you for a moment, chest heaving slightly from the bad feeling he had inside of him.

“if you're not gonna let me leave, then you have to.”

you looked at him with pure shock and anger- the audacity. he sighed, calming himself down before continuing; “if you still love me you’d leave.”

you shook your head, angrily shoving a finger at his chest. “you got me into this mess in the first place! you’re the reason I’ve ended up like this! and you want me to leave?” you scoffed at his words, yelling out yours in rage as tears of frustration kept falling from your eyes.

he sighed, brows furrowed and a sad expression stuck on his face as he looked at the ground. “I’m sorry, y/n. I can't do this anymore.” he turned to grab the doorknob, and your eyes widened with the movement.

“you can't do this to me nick!,” you clawed at his arm, dragging him backwards, away from the door. but he was stronger than your weak body and easily pushed you away from him to get access to the door. you hit his back with your fists, crying out in anger as you did so.

“you bastard! you can't just leave me here!” he stayed quiet as he rushed out of the door, not even looking back as he made it out of the door, escaping your grasp on him. you sobbed even louder, walking out of the door to follow his body with your eyes as you collapsed to the ground. “I hate you! I fucking hate you, you hear me?”

nick silently cried as his back hit the elevator wall, the doors closing in front of him as he made his way downwards to the entrance of the apartment complex. what had he just done? he placed a hand over his mouth, wide eyes staring into thin air in shock. nick’s only ever done what he was raised to think was right. it’s not his fault, right?

it’s not.

it’s not.

for a moment, you kissed.

did he not pull away because his feelings for you were still there somewhere in the depts of him? or because he was so shocked that he was unable to think straight enough to pull away? honestly, he couldn’t tell.

but alas, he pushed you off. and all he could do was look at you, baffled, confused and feeling more lost than ever. “y/n…” he trailed off, watching as you stared back at him with wide eyes and red lips from the kiss, almost looking as if you were just as shocked as him.

“I’m… I’m happy now. without the drugs, without the alcohol, without the cigarettes. I’m with someone else now, y/n,” he mumbled quietly, hands still pressed against your shoulders as he stared at your plump lips in a flustered state. he sighed. “we can't be together, y/n. not like this.” he didn’t specify “like what”, but his eyes staring up and down your form clearly showed what he meant. you knew that already, but it still hurt you. it still hurt you that he’d moved on and you hadn't - that he was away from all of the things you now lived off of. it hurt you that he was able to find happiness without you.

he lifted your head up by your chin, and you hadn't even noticed that you were looking at the ground, and got to eye-level with you. his eyes were soft (when weren't they?) and this time, he looked like he was pleading, begging for you to hear him instead of denying him. “I want you to be happy, too. that’s why I’m trying to help you. if only you’d let me?”

your eyes dropped to the ground again, brows furrowing in thought. should you? should you let him into your heart again? into your shitty life? what if he just ended up leaving you again like he’d done before? breaking your heart into a million pieces this time instead of just two? you looked up at him again, biting down on your bottom as you made your final choice.

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[superhero--imagines]

Part 1 here! / Part 2 Here! / Part 3 here!

A/N: I already know some of y’all are going to be mad, it’s 2020 and twilight needs some diversity, don’t @ me.

* You’re not really sure how you got here

* “This ones done”

* Edward holds out the blood bag to you, carefully pulling out the needles from you beloved Deer, Hayden.

* “Ah, thank you.” You place it carefully along with the others, before lavishing Hayden with affection

* “You were so good today! You’re going to get extra carrots, yes you are!”

* You’re aware of Edwards gaze on you as he disinfects the injection point.

* “You know it’s illegal to have Deer as pets in Alaska don’t you?” The corner of his mouth is quirked in the smallest smirk you have ever seen, and you roll your eyes

* “Tanya got a permit, the official stance is they’re her deer, I just take care of them for some extra pocket money”

* Not that anyone would venture into the “siren house” to ask questions

* You knew people were probably wary of coming up to the estate, even the mail man looked dead scared when he left Irina’s Lululemon packages in the mailbox

* But you didn’t think the locals legit called the manse “The Siren House”

* Edward told you they used to call it “The Witch House” but then, upon seeing the Denali sisters, changed it to Siren

* Edward doesn’t say anything, just moves to take the filled blood bags up to the house

* Ever the gentleman

* You really thought Edward would show up once, figure out he couldn’t read your mind, and retreat into his own moody silence.

* You figured you would mostly be dealing with Carlisle, who would teach you how to draw blood from your heard of deers, and then you would be on your own.

* But instead it was Edward who volunteered to do it for you, Carlisle was busy with his day job after all.

* He shows up once a week, usually after school, and carefully extracts the blood

* Then he puts them inside the fridge and leaves

* You really don’t get what’s going on, if he hates you so much why even bother coming over in the first place

* You’re about to fall into your usual rhythm of handing him the blood bags, which he then puts in the fridge when he breaks your routine

* “Why-“ your head pops up from the small pile of blood bags and to him. He’s looking away, but then his gaze meets yours. “Why go through all this trouble for a few deer.”

* You grin and hand him a blood bag

* “Another vampire might say the same thing to you, why go through all the trouble for a few humans?”

* He flinches, and you laugh. He’s so unaware of himself it’s actually funny

* “For the record, I do it because they remind me of my (Dog/Cat/Pet).” He quirks an eyebrow at that.

* “Your pet?”

* You nod. You’re number one concern on arrival here had been whether your dog was okay, but sifting through your memories of this life, you realized your dog had passed away in the middle of high school.

* “When I look into their face, all I can think about is my dog” you shrug, it’s the same with bears and other animals too.

* “Also, it’s kinda disgusting to drink that blood straight out of the animal.”

* Draining the blood must have deducted something from the taste, you can’t imagine what that skunky revolting flavor would have been like if you were drinking straight from the animal.

* Edward laughs. It’s the first time he’s laughed around you, pearly white canines in full view, the skin at the corner of his eyes folds

* It’s cute, very boyish. You get what Bella was talking about now

* “You get used to it after a while” he shrugs

* You shake your head, no one should ever have to drink that crap

* “Here, try some of my blood” you say it like you’re offering him some cookies you made. You pick up one of the bags, still warm, and he quirks an eyebrow

* This isn’t the first time you’ve offered, usually he declines and rushes to leave

* One time it looked like he might say yes, but then he noticed Tanya and excused himself.

* He accepts the bag, holding it up with one hand

* “Do you pour it in a mug?”

* And so you and Edward sip your blood-Capri-suns in the kitchen that’s only now started to be used

* You sit in the counter cross legged, while he leans against the adjacent counter. Both of you silently sipping your meals.

* “This is really good” he finally says, his blood bag almost empty.

* “Who’d you have? I’ve been trying to add different veggies to their meal to see if it brings out a different flavour profile.”

* He had Henrietta, who you had been giving more citrus too. Partially for flavour, and partially because she’s your favourite

* “It kind of tastes like...fruit punch” Edward recalls after a prolonged minute.

* He seems so nostalgic, you wonder how long it’s been since he’s had human food

* “I think genetics have something to do with the flavour too, the breed from this region all seem to have a fruity aftertaste”

* “I’m partial to deer since they don’t have a strong game taste aftertaste.”

* “Yes! That part is the worst, it’s like eating a skunk” You scowl and he laughs again.

* You know he doesn’t belong to you, he’s Bella’s, in a few years she’ll be all he thinks or cares about.

* But maybe the two of you can be friends until then.

* All at once the moments broken, Edward stands a bit straighter, the smile on his face gone.

* You turn to look behind you to see Carmen.

* Her head is tilted to the side, a smile tugging on her lips

* “You both look like you’re having fun.”

* After that the conversation is pleasant, but it definitely stutters until Edward eventually leaves.

* “I think he likes you” You’re reading a book by the fire, the gentle heat is nice and it sets the mood.

* “What?”

* Carmen’s grinning

* “The Cullen boy is interested in you.”

* You just shake your head. You doubt it, Edwards only got a one track mind for one person. And it’s not you

* “It would be nice if we could be friends though, I don’t really know many other people my physical age.”

* Carmen stops mid-stitch on her embroidery hoop

* “Is that something you want? Because the Cullen’s have other’s your a-“

* “I don’t need you to set up play dates for me Carmen”

* “Understood”

* Edward comes by regularly, to help you with your animals. You’re both always under the (discrete) supervision of one of your guardians (excluding Tanya of course.)

* And with each visit you learn a little more about him

* You find out that right now he’s masquerading as a senior in high school, he’s considering going to college for veterinary sciences

* “Why veterinary sciences?” You wonder if he’s about to poach your best deer and start his own blood business when he shrugs

* “It’s one of the few degrees I don’t have”

* You’re drinking blood-Capri-suns out on the porch, he’s still in his school clothes, including a very puffy jacket

* “What were you going to do?” Your raise an eyebrow and he elaborates “before you turned, what were you plans for the future.”

* “I was on my graduation trip, I was going to college in the fall”

* You got accepted into your safety school with a generous scholarship.

* Edward doesn’t press any further. But you can tell that he wants too.

* Many nights go by, you experiment with you animals diets, have supervised hang-outs with Edward, you meet Carlisle every so often who basically gives you therapy and helps you control your emotions

* Life is good

* But your growing complacency with the situation is starting to bother you

* You haven’t forgotten about Alec and Jane who are still fighting so hard to survive, or the countless others who would prefer this way of life if they only knew

* You know the minute you start being content is the minute the world wins

* So every night -or really every so often, you’ve lost all perception of time, the nights in Alaska are totally fucked and these heathens don’t even have a damn clock. Your only really sign of time is the mail man dropping off amazon packages- you sit and dream

* You think about giving back to the community, about saving your friends, and about dethroning fucking Aro

* You’re only at the beginning now, there’s still so much work to do, but it’s a start

* You hear a noise and your eyes open

* If you had a beating heart it would stutter when it saw Edward standing beside your bed, your hand moves on it’s own through reflex, clutching your heart

* Under the circumstances you would expect someone else to laugh, but Edward just looks confused

* “Are you...sleeping?”

* “I like to pretend, it’s a nice way to end the day” he raises an eyebrow at that

* “It’s 4 in the afternoon”

* “Well damn Edward, we don’t have any clocks in this house, how am I supposed to know what time it is.”

* He does laugh at that

* “Is it...nice?”

* “Yeah, it’s pretty relaxing, kills some time too.” Noticing the curious look on his face, you ask:

* “Do you want to try?” You pat the space on the bed beside you.

* You’re fully expecting for Edward with his old fashioned virtues to deny your suggestion. So you’re surprised that after several long seconds of silence, and a rather pained look, he adheres to your request and lies next to you on your bed.

* It’s a king size bed, so he’s at least three Great Danes away from you, but the closeness still surprises you.

* “What do I do now?” He says, eyes closed.

* “Daydream, or fantasise I guess, about things that happened in your day, or things you wish happened, places you want to go and memories you wish you could relive”

* “What do you usually dream about?” He asks, eyes open now

* “I think about Jane,” the answer is automatic, and you regret it as soon as the words come out. But Edward’s expression doesn’t change so you continue. “I think about my deers and my family too.” Most of the time you’re just thinking about what animal you want to excitement with next tbh

* “And sometimes I think about you.”

* And how glad you are to have a friend

* Edward doesn’t say anything for a long time, and for a second you hope he hasn’t misunderstood your words, you know he’ll never feel that way about you. All of those romantic feelings are saved for Bella

* “Would you like to come to my house sometime?” The questions throws you off, and your expression illicit’s a laugh from him. “Emmett and Esme are dying to meet the newborn from the Denali coven”

* That’s probably true for Esme, you’re pretty sure Emmett just wants to have some physical match with the “Volturi-reject”

* “That sounds fun, sure.”

* Maybe they have a clock in their house you can steal

* Edward shows up the next day in his shiny white Volvo to pick you up.

* On either side of you on the front porch are Carmen and Kate with their most fierce expressions (and behind them is Eleazer who just looks like he’s along for the ride)

* “Where are you going?” Kate asks

* “Our home on the other side of the mountain, you’ve been there before” Edwards got a small smile curling in his lips, and an eyebrow raised.

* “What will you do?” Carmen asks

* “My family’s having a board game night, I think we’re playing monopoly”

* “What time will you bring them home?” Kate intervenes, man they’re not even pretending to be polite

* “Well it’s not a school night-“ Seeing his joke isn’t going to land, he rethinks his words midway

* “Whenever they tell me to.”

* You’re half expecting to get a curfew, even though this household seems to operate without the concept of time, when Eleazer interjects

* “Well be safe, and have a good time.” He slides a backpack up your shoulders. “I packed you some blood bags in case you get hungry, Henrietta’s since I know that’s your favourite.”

* He’s the only one waving as you get into Edward’s car

* The view as you drive is breath taking, the snow covered mountains, abs crisp green trees

* Edward laughs beside you, at your awestruck expression no doubt

* “You don’t get out much do you?”

* You have your nose practically pressed to the glass

* “Not at all.”

* The Cullen’s home is reminiscent of the one from the movies. All light, with glass everywhere. It’s like a aurora, all wavy with no true shape

* “Welcome to our home (Y/N)” Carlisle greats you first, and behind him is... Esme

* She’s not at all like the books or the movie

* She’s definitely not white, you can’t tell exactly what race, but she’s definitely a POC.

* Her caramel cheekbones seem even more prominent when she offers you a smile.

* “It’s so nice to finally meet you, I’m Esme.”

* For some reason her being a POC, makes you feel more comfortable around her.

* Maybe you will ask her to draw up those plans for a proper barn.

* Edward stifles a laugh behind you, and you raise an eyebrow.

* “Emmett is dying to meet you upstairs.”

* You follow Edward up the stairs, finally meeting the family that spawned four books and a movie franchise.

* None of them look like they’re actor counterparts

* For one Emmett is black. And also really handsome, he’s got this Chadwick Boseman look alike thing going on and you’re down for it (RIP)

* Rosalie looks basically the way she was described in the books, all blonde hair and angel faced, but she’s the only one

* Alice is definitely Asian, she kinda looks like Lana Condor

* Jasper.... is ambiguously brown, but it still makes you let out a sigh of relief when you remember he was a Major in the CONFEDERATE army.

* More to the story than someone who was blatantly racist and supported slavery.

* They’re all beautiful, and they terrify you. You’re not exactly sure why, but something primal in you tells you to run away as fast as you can.

* But Edward lightly brushed the small of your back, pushing you forward. Right into the lions den.

* “Hello, I’m Rosalie”

* Looks like they picked her to be their spokesperson, all glittering smiles and flawless cheekbones. She extends her hand, and you lightly grasp it.

* “It’s nice to meet you.”

* It’s surreal to think how you know almost everything about this girl, while you two are virtually strangers

* Jasper introduces himself next, all smiles and quiet gentlemanly behavior.

* You’re not really sure what to expect with Alice, from what you know this girl has seen every future you could possibly have.

* Who knows what she saw

* But when she stands she hugs you

* “It’s good to see you!”

* “Alice, you haven’t introduced yourself”

* “Oh, right. I’m Alice”

* Emmett claps you on the back like you’re an old friend.

* “So, I heard you used to hang out with the sadist twins in the Volturi”

* You can practically feel the tension in the air, even Edward winces

* “They’re not so bad” really, what did anyone expect when they were in that environment

* Emmett grins

* “That’s bad ass”

* The rest of the night passes in a blur. The cullen’s game of monopoly includes some monstrous version where they put 8 different themed boards together and play in teams (You’re obviously on Edward and Alice’s team)

* They also have some sort of structure where they put four hotels together and called it a mega-hotel

* The whole thing blows up when Emmett accused Alice and Edward of using their powers to cheat

* “What do you want me to do, I can’t turn it off when I want Emmett, trust me I would especially when you and-“

* “Oh shut up Emmett, like we haven’t noticed Rosalie has an awful lot of $500 bills” Jasper interjects

* “It’s because you always pay me rent in small change!” She screams

* “Now-“ Carlisle tried to interject but Alice stands up

* “That’s a lie! I saw you steal from the bank several times when Esme wasn’t looking” Alice screams

* It goes on like this until Carlisle Declares the game over, and shoos everyone away.

* “Sorry, I would say it’s usually not like this, but I would be lying” Edward grins and you shrug

* “It was pretty fun and... entertaining in its own way” Edward beams at you, and once again, you definitely feel the dazzling effect Bella described in the movies

* “Should I... take you home now?” You can tell he doesn’t want to take you back yet, and if you’re being honest you don’t want to go back either

* The Cullen’s house has so much light, and you can see the stars so clearly here

* And if you’re being honest things seem to be way more entertaining here

* Edward takes you to a nook which houses a grand piano

* You’re fingers instinctively roam over the keys.

* “Do you play?”

* “Just a bit”

* You’re not the one who knew how to play, not really. But now this body is yours. You’ve thought about asking Carmen for a Piano, you’re sure they would love something that adds to the gothic feel of the mansion, but always cast it aside.

* You’re busy enough with your research.

* “Play me something” Edward grins.

* Alec had said the same thing to you when you were first taken by the Volturi, at the time your mind had raced wondering which piece would impress him the most. Which would aide in your survival.

* But looking at Edward now, you know that it’s not the same situation.

* He really does want you to play whatever your heart desires

* So you play “Love like you”, accompanied by your quiet voice reciting the lyrics

* At some point Edward sits beside you, playing in a deeper key, adding another layer of depth to your performance

* Wordlessly, afterwards he plays a piece of his own, Claire de Lune. Which you know is a remarkably hard piece.

* Still halfway you chime in, your super human fingers keeping up with him with ease

* And so it goes on like this, you play a modern song, waiting for him to catch up and he does the same with a classic

* Like a never ending game of cat and mouse

* It stops abruptly when Edward is in the middle of “moonlight sonata” when Alice clears her throat from behind you.

* “I hate to disturb,” there’s a teasing grin arched on her face. “But if you don’t drop them off, Carmen and Tanya are going to come over personally to retrieve them-“

* You see Edward wince, no doubt reviving Alice’s vision through his ability

* “And I don’t think anyone wants that.”

* You nod, moving to grab your backpack when you overhear Alice say-

* “You never let me play like that with you”

* Edward let’s out some sort of noise akin to a scoff

* “Where did you learn those songs?” He asks when you’re on the road

* Well you can’t tell him they’re from artists who aren’t known yet

* “Personal compositions” you murmur, and Edward grins his dazzling grin

* You talk about nothing but music until you pull into the familiar circle driveway of the manse

* Right when you’re about to thank him for a fun time, he gently stops you with a fleeting touch to your shoulder.

* “I’m graduating next month,” he hands you an envelope which you assume has his graduation card. “I was wondering if you would like to come to the ceremony.”

* You hold the card with both hands stunned, he’s already graduating high school?

* That means only 4 more years until he moves to Forks, and another two until he meets Bella

* And you realize that while time is frozen for both of you until the end of the universe, you’re the only one who isn’t moving forward

* “Yeah, I’d love that!”

* You try your best to smile, but your sure it comes off looking strange

* You don’t talk to anyone, heading straight for your bedroom

* What’s next for you?

#twilight #twilight reader insert #twilight headcanon #twilight imagine #edward cullen x reader #edward cullen #Rosalie hale #Jasper hale #alice cullen #carlisle cullen #twilight saga #twilight imagines #superhero—imagines

[defilerwyrm]

⭐️ Bei Mir Bist Du Schön

FIC SPOILERS AHEAD!

Bei Mir Bist Du Schön on AO3

He opened his mouth to thank Essek but what came out instead was, “Deine Augen sind wunderschön.”

Essek stared at him, perfectly neutral save for the subtle rise of stark white eyebrows. “I don’t speak Zemnian,” he said, flashing his customary, placid little smile.

This is early Essek, well before c2e097, so this is a fully calculated move. That stare is him running simulations in his head, as it were, weighing his options, and he finally decides that he can learn more about Caleb if the guy thinks he doesn’t understand these little asides.

And boy did he ever just learn something juicy.

The second time, he was feeling petulant. Essek was normally a very patient and talented teacher, but there came a time when they butted heads over the best way to work a spell: Essek’s experience and Caleb’s contradicted each other, and neither was willing to admit that he was wrong because they weren’t. Caleb couldn’t have said why they were getting spirited over it. It was unlike them to lock horns this way, and the condescension chafed fiercely.

To my understanding, Wildemount never—at least post-Calamity—had a continent-spanning culture like the Roman Empire that would standardize learning across regions, and the Empire and Dynasty have utterly lacked in cultural exchange pretty much throughout their histories; so I reason that their approach to magic must be very damn different right down to the fundamentals. But, I also reason, magic is like math, in that there’s more than one way to come to a given conclusion—so the same spell cast by an Imperial mage might use different theory and somatic/verbal components with the same results.

I love fic that plays homage to cultural differences, so I figured that there must surely come a point where Caleb and Essek quibble about how to do a thing, with the crux being that they’re both right.

In a fit of pique, he muttered, “Du hast Glück, dass du abartig schön bist, denn du bist so ein Arsch.”

Essek’s head whipped up so fast that, for a moment, Caleb thought maybe he understood after all—but Essek just squinted at him without recognition and said, “I beg your pardon?”

Essek’s poker face is doing triple duty here because Caleb just said he’s hot af but also a dick, and this isn’t a sentiment Essek hasn’t heard before, but it hasn’t really gotten under his skin like it does this time.

Caleb passed a hand over his face and scratched at the beard he desperately needed to shave off. “Nothing,” he lied, “just annoyed with myself. This should be a moment of discovery, now that we know this can go either way. A door has unlocked and we’re both pulling it shut. Can we start again?”

The slip, and Essek’s reaction to it, made Caleb realize that they were both being dillweeds about the whole thing and it wasn’t going to move them forward at all.

It was—of course, of fucking course the intonation mattered. “A tonal shift,” he breathed. He took Essek by the lapels of his robe and shook him gently, and blurted out, “Ich könnte dein Gehirn küssen und dann deinen Mund.”

“What the hell is going on,” Nott squeaked at the same time as Essek chuckled almost nervously, “Caleb, I don’t—”

Hot boi damn near let the cat out of the bag right here. It’s certainly not that he specifically did not want to be smooched at all, but more that 1) Nott was RIGHT THERE so it would be mortifying, 2) he’s still very D: about physical contact and this point, and 3) he’s still very privately going “fuck fuck fuck WHY a HUMAN” about his own attraction to Caleb. There is very much a part of him that Wants That, but the rest of him is just not coping with it at all just yet.

The following morning, though, all he could think about was Dein Bett wäre besser and Essek’s careful fingers touching his face.

Both of them are fully mortified with themselves. They’re ridiculous. I see Caleb heading back to the Xhorhaus with shoulders bunched up, brow furrowed, and wide eyes glued to his own feet as his brain screams “DEIN BETT WÄRE BESSER” at him, mockingly, over and over. Slipping up and confessing your attraction to your crush is relatably horrifying (gods, I’ve been there, it’s awful) and Caleb is predisposed to beat himself up to begin with. Add in the rest of the party making a big deal over the fact that he spent the night over at Essek’s towers and you’ve got an abject storm in that little ginger head of his.

It did not help matters that no matter how much he insisted that nothing happened, the Mighty Nein were dead set on believing that he’d slept with his mentor, and they spent the next three days teasing him about it, none of them aware that he was simultaneously tormenting himself.

Okay so I try to be good and not talk shit about my own work these days, but that sentence just landed in a belly flop for me. I’m not sure it actually gets across what I’d meant, which was that Caleb was beating himself up for a different reason than what they all thought.

In the midst of a messy ambush by three of the wolf-cat eye-beasts, one of them managed to get the drop on Caleb, and it pinned him, screaming, to the ground. Its claws dug fiery punctures into either side of his chest. He thrashed, trying to get both hands up to cast, but it would be too late—his reflexes weren’t good enough. His body had never been nearly as sharp as his mind, and he was about to pay the price in the form of massive, dagger-like fangs lunging towards his throat. He screamed again, chest nearly frozen with fear, when—

Adventurers are generally made of tough stock, but I really wanted to dig into the POV of someone who’s being attacked by a terrifying cerature intent on ripping them apart. “You take 12 piercing damage and are knocked prone” is mechanical and dry; I wanted to show the full in-character implications of those mechanics.

Another fic that represents game mechanics narratively to absolutely stunning affect is Hard Mouth by road_rhythm, which I cannot recommend highly enough. I wrote Bei Mir before Hard Mouth started posting but had it been the other way around, it 100% would have been an inspiration in that regard.

He could not help but murmur, “Götter, ich bins so verschossen in dich.”

Fun fact: I got myself the book Talking Dirty German specifically for writing Caleb dialogue, and it really came in handy here. This idiom is from that book, as did abartig schön. The literal translation is “Gods, I am so shot into you,” which coming to think of it sounds a wee bit dirty but is figuratively very sappy.

Speaking of sappy….

“Das Gefühl ist Gegenseitig,” came the warm and sleepy reply.

Part of this is Essek being barely-conscious, but the bulk of it is this—and this is basically giving away the whole way the fic progresses: pretending not to know Zemnian began as a manipulation tactic to get intel, then became a game of “Let’s see how long it takes you to figure this out, smart boy” as their bond grew and Essek stopped deliberately trying to throw Caleb off, and finally when they were a couple he figured it would be cruel and pointless to keep up the ruse, especially since he’d been growing to appreciate pet names in their mother tongues.

Caleb took a deep breath, set his tea aside, and launched himself at Essek, who yelped, laughing, and danced out of his grasp. Essek led him on a merry chase around the kitchen and held out as long as he could before crying mercy at Caleb’s vicious tickling.

You know, I probably shouldn’t point this out in case my readers hadn’t cottoned onto it yet either, but it wasn’t until like a week after publishing this that I stopped and thought, “WTF happened to Essek’s teacup? Did he take the time to set it down? Did it get dropped and shatter? Did he show off and levitate it?? Did he bring it with him and get tea all over the place and himself?!” Smh…. Choose your own explanation, I guess, lmao.

The rolls were a little burnt that morning, but Caleb had no regrets.

Part of me feels like this is kind of a weak ending, but I justify it to myself by remembering how hard Caleb regretted his slip-ups over the course of the fic. He spends a good bit of copy beating himself up over them, so ultimately I think it fits, even if it kinda lacks punch.

#ask box games #shadowgast #before long my song is dying #critical role #plz how do i fandom

[whataboutmyfries]

So I couldn’t get the Mafia/crime gang boys out of my head, so here, have some headcanons:

borrowed a few headcanons from @heyitssmiller ‘s clandestine which is very quickly taking over my life, and I love it more than I can say <3 

as always, credits for these boys go to @lumosinlove thank you so much Haz! 

Leo:

Leo can pick locks like a CHAMP 

He’s usually the getaway driver because this man can Hotwire a car in 20 minutes and jack it in 10 seconds. 

Can drive better than baby driver. 

Is still an absolute SWEETHEART 

If you met him on the street, you would NEVER believe he’s a gang boss/criminal mastermind 

Has a constellation tattoo resting on the back of his shoulder 

Quick fingers that can never stay still

therefore learnt piano and guitar

Often challenges himself to steal and return things as fast as he can 

Logan and Finn often have to deal with that :))

*Finn’s pants fall, leaving him in only his boxers* ‘Wha-? Where’s my belt I swea- LEO!’

Learns card tricks because he has nothing else to do 

Sometimes earns easy money on the side playing three card monte with unsuspecting strangers. 

Finn: 

DEADLY with knives

Seriously, do not mess with him when he’s holding something sharp.

Impeccable aim and lethal speed

Studied anatomy, so he knows exactly where to hit you so it hurts

Is often seen with a small knife in hand, twirling it around his fingers in increasingly complicated patterns

The best part? He doesn’t even know he’s doing it. He’ll probably be doing something else completely and his hands will be flipping a knife around in his hands effortlessly, he doesn’t even know he’s doing it. 

Con man extraordinaire 

Had Leo teach him card tricks, so they often take to the streets when they’re bored, coming in with nothing but a deck of cards and walking away with hundreds of dollars to their name. 

Doesn’t have just ordinary knives, oh no, his knives are individual masterpiece, each one a true work of art. 

Only takes a few pretty knives on missions, because he couldn’t possibly bear to loose them

Logan

Legendary sharpshooter

No joke, this man can get an entire round through pretty much the same bullet hole

Hacker and cat burglar of the group. 

Quick, stealthy and smart

Can pull off damn near any heist with his boys 

Will usually help Leo mastermind the plan 

Taught Leo to hack so they can take turns being in the field 

Master of martial arts and can win a fistfight without getting his suit crumpled

LOVES jump-scaring his boys every chance he gets 

Almost got punched by Leo one time, but then his reflexes kicked in and he pinned Leo to the wall by his wrists 

‘Can’t con a con babe’

‘Oh please, stop stealing Finn’s lines’

*cue intense, hot make-out session*

Just these boys being excellent criminals milord 

#lumosinlove #lumosinlove ocs #oknutzy #finn o'hara #Leo knut #logan tremblay #leo x logan x finn #russian roulette

[catharrington]

I surrender, I surrender to you. (T, 2.9k words)

@harringroveweekoflove day 4: TEACHER AU, SCHOOL DANCE. Featuring aged up, and friends in love seriously pining. Lame flirting and lame dancing. Please listen to the song Surrender by Suicide on repeat 🖤thanks.

***

The door to the roof was emergency access only. If you opened it, a silent alarm would go off in half a minute if you didn’t have the code to disarm it. This kept all the students from wandering. But the code that sat readily available on a bulletin board in the teachers lounge, didn’t stop them from wandering.

It was the best place to come for a smoke break. Hands down. Sure beat sneaking around the bushes in the back of school, and way more space than the janitors closet. Didn’t feel haunted like the basement did with all its rustling, moaning furnaces.

Billy pushed the door open and punched in the alarm code with his middle finger. Using the rest to clutch a reliable zippo lighter to his palm.

As soon as the door closed with a metallic hiss, and the light above the flat plastic box on the handle flicked to green, Billy was reaching into his suit’s inner pockets. Felt along the silk inside until he found the crinkled pack of smokes he kept.

Inside, the school’s prom was raging just fine. Billy had spent all night watching over it from the edge of the dance floor. Looking the other way as some dancers let their hands wander, as scared lips searched out for a romantic first kiss.

He had been to all his own back in sunny California, spent them doing a lot more than cute kisses pressed to shoulders.

The night brought back lots of memories of bruised wrists hidden by satin shirts, fast cars with wide back seats.

Billy lit his cigarette quickly, pulling until his lungs were filled to the brim with ash. With burning and black and red things that messed him up inside.

He exhaled the day from his lungs, but kept the ash. Let his eyes drift closed as he savored it.

From the other side of the roof he didn’t notice he wasn’t alone until it was far too apparently late. As his eyes fluttered back open, Billy followed the heated gaze on his skin. Turned until he found the farthest corner of the roof and the brick half-wall edge.

Firstly, he noticed the black suit jacket thrown over the brick. As if it weren’t expensive and the texture could ruin it. As if he didn’t care if it were to tumble off the edge to the ground.

Then Billy’s eyes drifted up along a smoke trail that wafted just above the suit jacket. A thin line of white smoke that lead back from over the edge towards a pair of pretty lips.

“Mr. Harrington,” Billy greeted.

The man just smiled. His lips holding that damn smoke curled around it like some blue-collared Cheshire Cat.

Steve, Steve Harrington, was the resident music teacher. His class room was underfunded and made of things he mostly brought in on donation. The children loved him, even if he was hardly over their own age, self-taught, and said crazy things like he didn’t believe in homework.

A large grand piano sat in the middle of his classroom. And Steve usually sat at it. At least, he did when Billy would find some excuse to come in and steal a glance.

Billy couldn’t get over those long legs kicked out, his dress slacks lifting up to show off his ankles. The sweater he wore that day, because he always complained about the old building being too drafty, pushed up to his elbows. And his moles. All the moles dotting up and down the back of his arms. Over his skinny, vein covered hands as they danced across the ivory keys of his grand piano.

Billy wasn’t blind. He knew he lingered too long and too obviously at Steve’s door for his own liking, but he couldn’t help it.

Between his melted chocolate colored sexy mess of a hairstyle and his vintage movie star good looks, Steve was something else. Effortlessly funny, and gentle with the firm understanding of a father. He was amazing to watch or simply be around.

And that smile, that wide real smile that reached up all the way to create crows feet next to his pretty brown eyes.

It took Billy’s breath away. It was, something else.

“Didn’t think you of all people would be skippin’ out on that shindig down there?” Billy kept his voice low. As quiet as the fading night around them. But his throat couldn’t help the gravel laughter that joined his words.

Steve shrugged. Lifting his arms to around his elbows so his whole body moved.

Steve turned and Billy noticed then that he must had been worrying at his long, coffee brown hair all night long. It had gone oily under his fingers. There were some strands coming free of how he had it pushed back. Mostly on the sides, right behind his ear, some were springing free. Reaching out for those mole covered cheeks like vines wanting to kiss. Curls of feather soft hair just out on display, and tempting billy to his edge.

The view off the side of the school roof was pretty, long lines of Indiana forests stretching below them. And the colors of the nights was a water color swirl of navy blue and royal purple twinkling with stars as they turned on one by one.

But, Billy was looking at the curly pieces of hair behind Steve’s ears.

“Just needed a break,” Steve spoke softly. “Headache. I don’t do well with lights and loud, loud music. I’ve had one too many concussions as a teenager.” And as he explained he chuckled. Like it was simply life and didn’t make Billy’s blood boil in his veins at the idea of Steve getting hurt.

But Steve just shrugged again. Flicking the butt of his spent smoke off the edge before he lit up another one. Trying to chain smoke away a headache.

“What about you, Hargrove? Thought you were enjoying enabling all those troublemakers down there?”

Billy whistled low. His shoes kicked up the tiny pieces of gravel across the roof as he walked closer to the edge. “That obvious?” He asked.

“Might of well have spiked the punch yourself,” Steve smiled, wonderfully wide and real, it made Billy’s heart swell up into his throat.

“Damn, I might get in trouble then,” Billy said in a laugh and an exhale of smoke. Mostly about the comment. Mostly about that damn smile.

He pressed his hip to the edge of the brick wall. Steve was standing a bit back away from it. His body turned to look out over the view. Billy didn’t want all that. Leaned back casually on the wall facing inwards as if they best view was Steve’s pretty face itself.

A minute of comfortable relaxation ticked by. Their senses going dark and black and burnt as they created a designs of clouds around their heads. Watching them gather and fade as the smoke cloud was too weak to carry rain. So it drifted up into the night sky to join the hidden mass of starlight under all the polluting lights of the school building.

Billy was stealing glances at Steve. Trying to make it not obvious.

Finally, Billy thinks he’s supposed to be the one to talk. He wipes his cigarette across the brick to make a line of black. Watches it for a second as he mutters, “What is he going to do? Fire me? Who else is going to teach these pipsqueaks how to understand poetry?”

“Good point, no one in their right mind actually enjoys poetry,” Steve shoots back.

Billy’s laugher from that is from deep in his chest. Rolling out through his ribs in a way he hasn’t felt tonight. In a way he wants to bottle and keep forever.

“Ya'know,” he starts slowly. Thinking about his words carefully. “I’ve got a bottle of aspirin in my desk. If that headache is still bothering you, Harrington?”

And Steve’s eyes flick towards him quickly. Searching the space between for any meaning to those words other than kindness. There’s a worry etched into Steve’s brows. And again, Billy’s griped with a certain anger for whoever put it there.

He gives himself a moment to think about it. Looking from between Billy’s face to the ground below them. Kicking his fancy brown dress shoe into the dirt.

“We’ve been away for a while. Really should be getting back?” Steve’s whisper is so quiet. Even he must know that ain’t an option.

Reaching forward, across the little space left between them, Billy brushes his hand across the slumped fabric of Steve’s jacket. He pets it once, twice, his fingers lingering on the well-loved softness that’s been put into the expensive suit, before he gathers it up in his fist. Lifting it from the brick so he can drape it over his arm.

He’s watching Steve the whole time. Wondering what the pretty boy is going to do about it.

“Mr. Hargrove,” Steve talks around the last puff of his cigarette. It’s tobacco burning bright orange to the filter before he flicks that one too over the side of the building.

Turning then to level a playful glare towards Billy.

“What’s another minute?” Billy scoffs. “Well, another 30 minutes?”

“We’ve got to get back!” Steve hisses. “If the principal notices they are down two chaperones then he will crucify us!”

“That’s a pretty poetic way of saying we’re dead if we get caught.” Billy laid his hand over Steve’s jacket. Pulling it so that it was on the other side of his body from Steve. So that if he had to leave, if he really didn’t want to take Billy up on his so generous offer of aspirin, he’d have to brush up along Billy’s side to fetch his jacket.

Crossing his arms back over his chest, Steve worried his bottom lip. Thinking, gears turning, under that head of perfectly disheveled hair.

Billy couldn’t help but follow the motion of his worrying. Swiping his tongue over his own bottom lip as he thought about how Steve’s teeth worked. How they brought the blood to the top layer of skin. How it looked cherry red and wet, as if it were stained from the punch bowl at the prom still dancing below their feet.

“20 minutes,” Steve haggled. His eyebrow quirking up in a challenge.

Billy shook his head. “Says right on the bottle takes 30 minutes to kick in. Wouldn’t want to take you back to the party still hurting, pretty boy.”

And he let that slip. That wasn’t supposed to come out. Billy’s eyes widened in reflex at his old behavior. If he could reach out and pluck those words out of the air he would. It wasn’t poetic, it wasn’t romantic, it wasn’t the best way to flirt with the music teacher he has been silently crushing on for the past year.

But then, he noticed that Steve didn’t pull back. Or sneer, or draw his sword in a one on one combat for the disgrace of his honor.

He kept standing on the roof of their school. Kept his arms crossed over his chest to combat the cold. His button up shirt pulled tightly across his broad shoulders.

Kept smiling under the glow of the moon and the artificial yellow lights dotting around them. And just like his Cupid bow shaped lips, his cheeks were flushed a brilliant red blush.

“Okay, yeah. Sure, Hargrove,” he stuttered out. Lifting one hand to wave towards the door.

Billy’s smirk was wide and wolffish, brilliant and happy.

He followed where Steve was gesturing. Opening the heavy metal door with a creaking groan of the hinges. Stepping aside to let him pass. Steve’s shoulder brushed along the fatty part of Billy’s bicep as he went

Down the steps they start picking up the quiet notes of the prom music still going on. Now that it was later on into the night, starting to become too late to be out, the music has mellowed out to softer love songs.

The staircase to the roof wasn’t decorated like the rest of the school. None of the red steamers or sweetheart pink balloons.

But as the gentle rhythm trickled up the steps, it sure felt like Billy was right back on that floor. And he had never felt it before the way he had now. When he was a kid he was a rebel without a cause. Driving fast cars and leaving hearts broken behind him.

Valentine’s days were always something to get done. To get to the end of so he could jump in bed with his prize.

Now, as the melody of the song so slowly so softly floated by, he finally was felling those butterflies.

Was thinking this is how it felt being a kid and timidly kissing the shoulder of your dance partner. Your heart so swollen and raw just wishing they feel the same way. That they will smile at your lame attempt to get their attention, and bend down to give you a real kiss.

Billy felt his feet stop at a halfway platform. A shiny metal thing that groaned dangerously under them. It wasn’t a dance floor. Wasn’t painted wood of a basket ball court either, but it felt like it. Gods, did it feel like it.

The song echoes all around them. Distorting the voices and pianos and making it ethereal in a way he didn’t want to ever end. A spell he never wanted broken.

Then, so gently it was almost startling. Almost made him jump from his vibrating skin. Steve sipped his hand into the one Billy was using to hold his coat.

Billy jerked to watch him. Thinking this was it, Steve had changed his mind and was going back to play babysitter for the rest of night like a responsible teacher.

But, he instead wrapped those gorgeous piano player fingers around Billy’s own and claimed them. Moved them so they were wrapped up too busy to hold the jacket anymore.

It tumbled down to the metal floor below them.

“Tell me if I’m reading the room wrong,” Steve whispered. Trying not to be louder than the song. Trying to stay in the moment of the reverberating chorus. “I’m not good with poetry, but I know a romantic moment when it plays on the radio.”

And he lead Billy’s hand to his waist. Leaving his hand touching ever so softly on the sensitive skin of the back of Billy’s hand.

And he used his other hand to cradle the back of Billy’s neck. Those fingers playing over the shaved short hairs there like ivory. As skilled as he is in every instrument he touches.

Making Billy completely breathless. Making him an audience to the way Steve begins to sway to the song. Following along as their teacher’s dress shoes click against the floor.

“I think you’re better at reading than you let on, Harrington,” he breaths. So low, so gentle, just like his hands as he wills up the courage to rest them on Steve’s hips.

His thumbs find the brown leather belt Steve wears all the time. And he worries circles into the leather. Round and round.

The same circle that Steve’s leading them in. Swaying back and forth to the music so damn easily it’s mesmerizing. It’s easy to follow right along where he’s lead.

Steve’s hands come up to wrap around Billy’s shoulders. Takes a step even closer.

His face is handsome in the low light of the staircase to the rooftop. His whole face, from his hair to the tip of his thin nose, is sparkling more than even the sky they just left behind. His eyes are intoxicating to watch. Half lidded and dark.

Billy feels his fingers grip harder on Steve’s belt as he dips close to his face to talk right into the blushing parts of his cheek.

“You’ve cured my headache,” his breath is warm across Billy’s skin. It makes him shiver.

Steve leans back to watch for a reaction. A playful quirk that makes his nose scrunch up.

Billy swoops forward the inches between them to catch those perfect lips in a kiss.

It’s slow, and soft, and it takes every damn thing Billy’s got in his whole body not to melt into the floor right there. Not to give into the way Steve’s lips are so warm pressed to his own. How he tastes like a more expensive brand of cigarettes. And how Billy can feel the way Steve’s smiling still into his kiss.

It makes him whimper low, a pleading thing that sounds much more broken than he feels.

Billy actually feels a lot more whole than he has in a long time. Like a piece of him he’s been ignoring has finally come to dance. Feels like a side of him he wants to look in the mirror and see. Not the rebel, or the self assured ass who’s got so many walls up he can’t see what’s in front of him.

No, this was a kid who’s gotten his first kiss at a school dance. And, to make it perfect, from the guy he’s been crushing on all year long. From the prom king himself.

They part with a smile and a low laugh. Listen as the song switches to something just as slow and perfect for another cheek to cheek dance.

Billy lays his head down on Steve’s shoulder. Pulls him in even closer. But leaving enough space for their feet to keep swaying back and forth to the music.

#harringrove #billy hargrove #steve harrington #harringrove fic #my fic #steve/billy #harringrove fanfic #harringroveweekoflove #harringrove week of love

[stusbunker]

Pit Stop

A Supernatural fan-fiction

Featuring: Dean x Reader

Written for: @crashdevlin​ for my 800 Words or Less 800 Follower Celebration

Warnings: Outdoor sex, unspecified past tension, ran a bit over 800 words

     His lips are sloppy on the hinge of my jaw, nudging me up and away, and I see the stars framed by the fir trees that line the wayside. Sam’s asleep in the passenger seat and we have to make this quick, but Dean is nothing if not a tease. My hands tug at his shirts to get at his belt, but he’s too fast for me and my hands are pinned above my head before I slide leather from buckle.

    “Somebody’s eager,” Dean taunts. “Sitting there all pretty, alone in the backseat, must have been torture.”

    “Shut up,” I snap, strung up and needy. “You don’t get to eye fuck me all night and then take your damn time.”

     Shamelessly, I roll my hips into him, seeking his heavy heat.

     His eyebrows shoot up and the devilish smirk on his lips has me biting mine. I wiggle against his hold on my wrists, my shirt is all bunched up and my back is gonna be raw come tomorrow.

     Dean leans in, close enough I can taste him. He doesn’t kiss me, instead he just whispers, “you want me to stop?”   

     The words tickle my lips. He is the worst.   

      My blood pools and suddenly I’m so empty I feel weightless, fuck, I need him. Now.   

      I hate when he wins.   

      “Please,” I say, just as softly.    

      “Please, what?” Dean’s staring down his nose at my mouth, tongue teasing his top teeth. He looks like the Cheshire Cat and I’m just a lost thing he’s decided to play with tonight. But we do this too often to not know where this road leads.       

      “Please stop teasing me,” I say through clenched teeth. “Dean? Please.”

       I huff. The desperation is burning through me and I might cry if he doesn’t do SOMETHING.   

      “Oh, honey,” Dean melts, he realizes how keyed up I am and his hand cups my face and he kisses me breathless. His lips are plump and inviting, his tongue darting out to gain purchase with mine. I would kiss him for hours. But we never have that much time. Just these little trysts, stolen moments in the Impala or out back of a motel. Sam doesn’t know, he can’t know. Because then I’d have to leave.

       Dean would always choose his brother first.

       So we keep quiet, and Sam remains oblivious.   

       Dean’s thick thigh nestles its way between mine, solid and secure, giving just enough friction to make me moan into another kiss. He chuckles at my urgency, but he finally drops the hand holding mine and gets my fly open.        

        “We really need to get you some skirts,” Dean mumbles, calloused hands dip into my panties and slide them and my pants down to my thighs. I try to kick off my right shoe, pinned between the tree and Dean, it’s impossible. He laughs again. “Here.”   

        Without looking away, Dean slides my pant leg down until it’s got nowhere to go. Then he yanks the heel of my shoe so hard I crash against his chest. With one hand on my waist, and the other holding onto my ankle and he meticulously drags my pants down my leg.  

        I shiver as the night air caresses my bare skin. He’s kissing me again, but it’s just a distraction because his left hand is twisting me open and plunging two fingers up and in. I’m on my tiptoes and still climbing. I paw at his shoulders through his jacket before I get my sense back to focus on his belt.   

        We’re a denim clad fury of limbs and grunts, but soon enough I sink down onto him and everything is right as rain. The hot stickiness soaks into my every atom and I am thrumming with pleasure. Dean is everywhere, in and of me.I don’t want it to be over.

        Not again.

        I don’t want to have to watch him crawl into the front seat and pretend he isn’t leaking down my thighs all the way to the next case. I swallow down the inevitable and focus on what I have right now.

        And now Dean is fucking me into a tree and I have his head in the vice of my palms as I take his dirty mouth and show it my own filth. We are just animals in the pretense of woods.

        His bowed legs are working off the double bacon burger from lunch and I’m squinting against all the obscenities I’m trying not to shout. He moves like a machine and I’m a helpless heap he’s plowing.

        We come up for air, bubble broken and he starts to take his time again, dragging out before punching back in. He’s watching me and I’m not blushing, but I’m sort of smiling and fuck when he starts thumbing my tits. Even beneath two layers of fabric he finds my nipples, plain as day, bullseye. I sizzle down to my core and he appreciates the sudden clench.

        He gasps when I hold it, sighing as he shakes his head at me.

        Tit for tat.

        “I’m gonna smell you until Ohio,” Dean groans, hand trailing over my belly and dropping down to nudge my clit.   

        “Uhm, I’m going to feel this until next week,” I sass until I can’t think anymore because he won’t stop stoking the fire.    

        “Yeah, you are,” Dean Winchester keeps his promises and he pushes me off of him and steps back. With a quick tap to my hip I turn my back to him, hands braced against the gnarled bark. He drags my thighs toward him and apart, kicking at my one shoe’d heel to widen my stance. Just as he’s centered, he slams back in, deeper than before and I can’t help but cry out.

         He spanks me on pure reflex.

         “Would you cut it out?!” He demands, balls deep and frozen in shock. There aren’t enough insects to drown us out, just the occasional vibration of a passing semi.

           Dean’s splitting me open and he won’t move. I scoot back, his dick sharp against my every nerve. Just as the silence seems to break the laws of time, a familiar crank of a hinge rips through the night.    “Dean?” Sam’s voice calls out.   

            Shit.

Fill #1 of 8

Prompt: Dean x Reader, secret sex, Sammy doesn't know

Tags: @flamencodiva @dolphincliffs​ @dontshootmespence​ @thoughtslikeaminefield​  @fangirlxwritesx67 @dawnie1988 @mrswhozeewhatsis​ @cosicas-cuquis​ @foxyjwls007​ @tumbler-tidbits​ @defenderrosetyler​ @ericaprice2008 @princessofthefandomrealm​ @wingedcatninja​

#supernatural fanfiction #stu's 800 or less #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester x reader #dean/you #dean winchester smut #spn smut #spn ficlet #spn drabble #spn fanfic

[secretshinigami]

Don't mess with an annoyed L

Author: @skaelds

For: @lightsturtleneck

Pairings/Characters: Light/L

Rating/Warnings: K/K+

Prompt: Domestic Lawlight

Author’s notes: Heyy ! This was very fun to write, i hope it’s qualified as a Domestic Lawlight, and i hope it will please you :D L’s Pov here you go <3

- - - - - - - - - - – - - - - - - - - - – - - - - - - - - - 

L Lawliet prided himself on being a patient person. It was something he had to learn over the years, to know how to calm his ardour in order to achieve his goal at the right moment, to know how to bide his time. The methods of The Anger Trap: Free Yourself had taught him how to temper his frustration, how to lower his tension and how to avoid anger-related symptoms such as chest tightness or tachycardia.

He remembered several times when waiting had been the key to his success, when victory meant hours spent crouching behind a screen watching the slightest change in attitude. A treacherous whisper of his mind whispered the name of Light Yagami. L promptly ignored it.

A patient person, thus.

Therefore, not very quick to lose control over his nerves.

That is why his smile didn’t tighten on his lips, his eyelids didn’t twitch and he didn’t take a breath intended to bring down his tension. None of that. No. And anyone who would say otherwise would be an odious liar.

“I thought Light-kun had given up his idea of murdering me in cold blood. I note this betrayal with real disappointment. When you confessed to me that you had changed and no longer wanted to crush the hearts of criminals between your chips-covered fingers, I thought your madness was over. Sadly, I realise that this is not the case. I am on the verge of death, Light-kun, and my death will be blamed on you. I hope you’re happy with yourself.”

“Shut up and chop.”

“Your coldness hurts me.”

“No, that’s just the impact of the weather. And the current temperature of -10 degrees. And probably the fact that you’re not wearing gloves when I insisted for twenty minutes that you put them on.”

“The analogy is completely unfounded. There is no correlation between the temperature and the state of my heart. Who is hurt, I emphasize. Broken into a thousand shards of glass. Crumbled. Set on fire.”

“Oh damn it, L, it is you I’m going to set on fire if you don’t stop complaining!”

Light straightened up suddenly, throwing his axe vigorously into the snow - ruffled hair, long caramel-coloured strands sticking to the soaked face, reddened by irritation and effort. Two eyes that shot him with force - even made him check to see if he had not just taken two bullets. The tip of his nose was reddened by the cold, gleaming on his face. L was taken by a sudden urge to cross the few steps that separated them and to kiss this angry face, to make the frown that was spoiling the beauty of the face disappear.

Who did he think he was fooling? As if the beauty of the other could be spoiled by something as trivial as irritation. On the contrary, seeing irises inflamed with anger aroused a tingling in his stomach that he refused to identify.

L crossed his arms on his chest, his own axe falling to the ground.

“The muscles of my upper body are less developed than those of my lower body, Light-kun. It’s a torture” he complained, sulking expression on his face. “And I’m not the one who decreed that it was imperative to chop down our own tree. Watari was quite willing to give us one. With all the characteristics you were looking for.”

Light rolled her eyes. Passed a hand through his hair, dislodging some snow dust.

“It’s a tradition,” he insisted. “You can understand, you’re the one who insisted on coming to spend Christmas at the Wammy House. Saying that it was an obligation and that you wouldn’t neglect it.”

“The Wammy has a perfectly satisfactory tree.”

“L !”

“I love you too.”

Pushed sigh with a mixture of exasperation and affection. He shook his head, caused flakes to rain down. The cold crept up his neck, down his sleeves, over his ankles - came to lay his frozen hand on him and mark his territory. Even though his hands were in his pockets and a heavy scarf was wrapped around his neck as if to strangle him, he felt the icy air pressing his lips to his skin. He shivered - they might have to amputate his toes. Terrible notion, how could he slide them over Light’s warm skin at night? He deliberately omitted the fact that this act was always followed by a yelp from Light, a startled awakening and usually a punch that would make him fall out of bed.

Light was particularly susceptible.

“But I am cold.” A real complaint, camouflaged in a childish mumble. Annoyed. He had followed Light willy-nilly in the winter cold, had rushed into the forest with him, but they had been sawing the tree trunk down for more than forty minutes - or almost - without the damn tree ever collapsing. L would have almost scribbled Abies balsamea in the Death Note by pure spirit of revenge. “I’m about to lose my fingers.”

“That’s a shame.”

“ Be careful, Light-kun forgot what empathy is all about again.”

Light shook his head once more - shaking in a canine manner - before taking a few steps forward, axe forsaken, and a slight, almost amused grin on his lips. He almost retreated backwards by reflex, preferred to take his hands out of his pockets and hold them out to Light, and was immediately assaulted by a warm and perhaps at least a bit empathetic mass.

Lips pressed against the icy skin on his neck - he shivered upon the contact, tightened his grip around Light. Light smiled against his neck, put another kiss on it, his own hands wrapped around L’s waist. “So you’re looking for a cure against the frost?”

Ecstatic nod, ready to close his eyes and-

PAF!

The universe fell under a cloud of white, an icy envelope wrapped around him like a predator, leaving him in shock. A snow avalanche, creeping into his neck, waist, ears, wrists, ankles - even swallowing a handful of it, his eyelashes covered with frosted crystals. Time froze for a moment, leaving him lying on the ground, too shocked to reflect on Light’s betrayal - the only indication of his survival testified by the regular blinking of his eyelids.

A simply awful laugh tore his eardrums. Those that came from the back of the throat, resounded like thirty bulls charging towards him, reflecting all the petty amusement and cunning of his host. L felt betrayed.

What seemed like an eternity later, he stood up slowly, one elbow leaning against the snow.

Threw an absolutely polar glance at Light.

“Did anyone ever told you you had a goat’s laugh?”

The hiccups of laughter redoubled.

L touched the snow next to him, leaned a second elbow to stand up. “I hope you know that I never leave a blow unanswered, Light-kun, you’ve just signed your death warrant.”

Tears were now streaming down Light’s face. Tears of laughter, for sure, which would soon turn into tears of suffering if he was allowed to give his opinion. He stood up on his legs hesitantly - shaking himself to make the snow fall, making it slide further down his neck. L restrained a relatively virile yelp, stood there for a few seconds - a perfect representation of a forest gremlin. Or the Yeti. Covered with snow as he was, the resemblance must have been striking.

His resolution taken, he bent down, gathered the snow into a compact ball and rushed towards Light - taking him by surprise. The other stumbled back, tripped over the handle of L’s axe, flapped his hands like a chick thrown from the nest before tipping over on his backside. In a second, L was on top of him - drove the snowball into his coat’s neckline.

Light shrieked - grabbing L’s hands to stop him from continuing. L pulled to get out of the grip, lost his balance for a few seconds-

Collapsed next to Light.

A few seconds passed in total silence, only the sound of their breaths breaking the silence before they exchanged a glance - L felt his lips stretch in spite of himself, resisted valiantly before giving in and joining Light in his burst of laughter. Breathless, they tried to catch their breath, each new glance at the other finishing them off again.

Light eventually cut himself as best he could, stretching out one arm to wrap it around L.

“I may have a goat’s laughter but I can still stand on my feet. Do you want a cane, old man?”

Slap addressed with a mixture of annoyance and amusement. L was covered in snow, infiltrated down to every pore of his skin, had just tried to cut down a pine tree for a good forty minutes and had just been tackled like a feverish rugby player on the ground. In short, he was soaked, exhausted and probably in hypoglycemia

From an objective point of view, therefore, he was absolutely not responsible for his own actions.

That is why he smiled slightly at Light Yagami, interlaced their fingers with his left hand - the one where Light was wearing his wedding ring - and quickly kissed him on the cheek. Slipped his other hand through the melted caramel-coloured hair - and it reminded him of the caramel-filled cookies waiting for them in their kitchen, what a wonderful idea - by tightening his fingers on the strands.

And slammed Light Yagami’s head roughly into the snow.

Justice was always delivering its judgment.

Later, when they returned to the Wammy House, the fire crackling in the fireplace and their hands wrapped around a nice hot chocolate, L put his cup on the table and climbed up to sit next to Light.

“The children told me that they love the tree initiative. They have even started to decorate it” grinned Light with a satisfied smirk. That of the cat who had devoured the canary and had just blamed the dog.

L gave him one of his own smiles.

“Maybe I could make it up to you in some special way…”

“Perhaps you could…”

He leaned over to Light- interrupted suddenly by a shrill ringing of the telephone. Annoyed grimace, device grabbed with fingertips to refuse the call, turning off the object and throwing it across the raised eyebrow of Light, who split into a new smile before putting down his cup and swinging L onto the couch.

Ah. A thought crossed his mind as Light’s lips rested on his skin-

Maybe he wasn’t that patient in the end.

#fanfiction #death note #lawlight #Light Yagami #l lawliet #l #submission #skaelds #lightsturtleneck #Mello's Birthday Mayhem 2020

[aikidoheroine]

Tenmaki -Understanding-

Backflip, backflip, backflip

Tenko Chabashira, Ultimate Aikido Master (Or a variant of it anyway) kept twisting and edging backwards in fluid motion; sounds of air cuts passing by her. If one were to slow down, they could see knives being the thing making the sound through the air. Knives courtesy of Maki Harukawa, former Ultimate Babysitter, current Ultimate Assassin.

The two are locked in what was going to be a simple spar, but it grew to become a heated battle because Tenko is as aggressive with her mouth as her kicks and punches entail.

It all started 1 minute ago.

“Say Maki-chan, being alone and aloof from everyone else…that is no way to live! You should make friends and try to unburden yourself! If you like someone, you should be able to trust them, right? That’s what friends do. They trust each other.”

Tenko had no idea what caused Maki to explode, but she found herself dodging knives. Where is Maki even keeping those knives, Tenko has no idea. She lost count after 29. Doesn’t Maki carry 30? usually? At least, that’s what Kokichi said once. But who knows if that was lie. Almost everything out of that clown’s mouth is a lie in some sort of fashion.

After the 7th flip, Tenko lands on her feet, thankful that she felt the knife rain finally come to an end (that’s going to be a mess to clean up later), but the rain of pain came to her. Maki, despite her thin body shape, is surprisingly agile. Agile enough to close in on Tenko in seconds with another knife (There’s the 30th one), and strike at Tenko.

While Tenko acknowledges Maki is faster, and possibly stronger (Tenko witnessed the girl lift a 100 pound rocket launcher like was nothing), Maki lacks in ways Tenko excels at.

Namely, reflexes. Tenko already knew Maki would have closed the gap between them; its what Maki does, unconsciously or not (Assassin perks, maybe). Even before Maki began the strike, Tenko moved just as fast and with one hand, grips Maki’s wrist holding the knife, and the other one, she strikes an open palm right onto Maki’s chest.

The impact was quick. Maki dropped the knife and coughed her breath out. But she wasn’t out, not by a longshot. She didn’t earn the title of Ultimate Assassin by cowering under simple blows. She retaliates as quickly, leaping; she catches Tenko’s neck with her legs and twists her sideways, pulling both of them down. Tenko landed on her back (Thankful for the mats, otherwise that would have hurt), while Maki lands on her 4 feet like a cat. She grabs the fallen knife with her teeth (What are you Maki, a dog?), and leaps onto Tenko’s lap, about to swipe again at Tenko.

Tenko’s reflexes save her again, able to block the swipe by forming an X with her hands, and pushes them on Maki’s neck; narrowly avoiding the swipe and keeping Maki back. Maki however, persists and pushes forward, twisting her mouth and lips to grab the knife from the hilt and pushes down to try and stab Tenko.

“This is…ridiculous!” Tenko yells, teeth grit. She’s able to move her legs and lifts them back to wrap around Maki’s neck, and then pushes back with both arms and legs. “Off Maki!”

Tenko’s strength and position helps in this case, and she’s able to get Maki off her, one last push gets Maki to flip backwards and skid a little back; though she sprints back at Tenko with no intention of letting the Aikido Master get up.

Tenko does manage to get up. As soon as she got Maki off her, she spun herself in a manner similar to breakdancing, then users her legs as a weight, and lifts herself back up like a trampoline swing. “Aha!” And quickly, back on the defensive she is, as Maki dropped the knife from her mouth, back to her hand and goes for a flurry of strikes and swipes.

Tenko thankfully is skilled enough to parry each one, hands balled to fists, she punches the strikes away from dealing any real damage; though the constant clashes, and being pushed back got to Tenko.

She formulated a plan; simple and to the point. ‘Steady…steady…now!’ finding just the right time to counter, Tenko instead, ducks under one of Maki’s swipes, and sweeps her leg, knocking Maki off-balance. Tenko then leaps and grabs Maki by her sides and slams her down “HAAH!” no mercy for the Assassin.

Once Maki hit the mats (and pretty damn hard. Tenko did not hold back that one time), the force of the impact gets her to drop her knife, and Tenko then sits on Maki’s lap and holds her two arms by her wrists. Neutralization, success.

“…Phew.” Tenko let out a sigh of relief. Now that the 'spar’ finally stopped, she realized just how fast her heart is racing, and the sweat she fells all over. It was a quick fight, but still, it put her on edge. Maki was using real knives. It could have hurt her, or worse. “I would normally say that was fun spar Maki-chan, but you were using real weapons! I could have been hurt!” Tenko said with a frown. “I apologize for any rudeness in my earlier comment, but I meant what I said.”

“…You actually managed to beat me.” Maki said, surprised. She didn’t make any motion to try and get out; she admits defeat. “…I guess that makes it 2-1 for now, still leading.”

Tenko would have been flattered, under normal circumstances, but not this time. “Please don’t flatter me Maki-chan; especially when you don’t mean it.”

“…” Maki grumpily stayed quiet, not even looking at Tenko anymore. “I don’t rely on others Chabashira. I’m an Assassin, get it? I kill people; for a living.” she sighs, and decides to look at Tenko “Whether my target is innocent or guilty, it doesn’t matter. I silence them forever, get paid, move on to the next one. I don’t feel anything, I shouldn’t, feel anything; especially friendship or…anything deeper than that.”

“…You don’t believe that.” Tenko said. “I can tell Maki-chan. Not just by words, but your body. You put on a brave face, threatening anyone, always trying to be intimidating…but I see it. At the table, at the trials, when you see other people talking like friends, like Shuichi and Kaito. You have that look of sadness in your face, showing your true emotions.”

Whether Tenko’s words hit Maki or not, Maki didn’t show it. “Its not your problem to solve.”

“Maybe not.” Tenko admits as much. “But this isn’t an assassin’s mission, is it Maki-chan? We’re trapped, with other people. People that regardless of how you and I feel about, have to work together to get out of this mess.”

“Akamatsu tried. You saw how that worked out.”

Kaede…It may have been more than a week since then, but to Tenko, its like it happened hours ago. Its still vivid in her head. The imagery, Kaede’s look of despair as death slowly took hold of her, and nobody was able to do anything about it. Spectators to an execution no one wanted, for a crime Kaede didn’t even want to commit.

To Tenko, a defender of justice, protector of the weak; it was an insult to her pride and honor.

“I don’t need to be reminded of that.” Tenko said. “But I have never doubted Kaede-chan’s words. To get out of here alive, all of us.” her eyes drooped a little. “…I admit that while I don’t show it, I am afraid of what may come next.”

“I’m not.” Maki replies bluntly.

“Liar.” Tenko frowns again. “In this fight we just had, you told me otherwise.”

Maki didn’t say anything to that, staying strangely quiet. Tenko took this is a queue to continue. “Every swipe, stab, every movement you did…it wasn’t normal for you. Your movements were quick, but sloppy. With determination, but no end goal. Every attack has shown to me that you’re afraid, desperate to exit this confounding prison that Monokuma created against our wills.”

“If you were really aiming to kill me Maki, you would have done so much easier than what you showed me today. I know full well your capabilities to end a life. You did not end mine…so I know, that you are afraid too, for what comes after death here, is facing your own death; and that terrifies you.”

“As strong as you are…facing death, that should never be done alone.”

Maki bit her lip, annoyed and…admittedly showing her fear now, if only a little. “Strength of my own is all I know Chabashira. I never had to rely on anyone else but myself.”

Tenko nods. Her grip on Maki loosens “I know this…I know you are strong Maki-chan.” She lets go of Maki’s wrists, and looses her own hands, relaxed…comfortable. “But someone that has always fought alone, will never know the strength of fighting alongside others. The kind of strength Kaede wanted from us.” Tenko gets off Maki’s lap and stands up, still staring at her, but now a gaze; A strange mix of sorrow and hopeful “The kind of strength I want to hope, can get us to escape with no more victims or murderers. Back to where we belong.”

“…” Maki didn’t move from her spot, though relieved Tenko got off her at least. “…You never spoke with Akamatsu. Why are you holding her in such a strong regard?”

“…” Tenko takes a step forward and slowly sits next to Maki, looking opposite of where Maki is. “It is true…we only spoke once, before the murder of Rantaro. I suppose its not really about Kaede herself, as a wonderful person I’m sure she was; rather…” Tenko bit her lip. “What she represents to me.”

Maki raised an eyebrow, confused. Clearing her throat, Tenko continues.

“As someone that upholds protecting the weak, the innocent, seeing Kaede die the way she did, in such a cruel, unfitting matter…God you have no idea how badly I wanted to crush Monokuma and those damn cubs of his. But it would have been for nothing. I know that, I felt that…but I still wanted to. Because Kaede deserved better; killer or not of that degenerate Rantaro; she wouldn’t have done that if Monokuma had forced us to this evil game of his.”

As she spoke, Tenko’s sadness turned to grief, to anger, to hopelessness. Tears nearly threatened to leave her eyes, and they did. “This killing game goes against everything I believe in; and I hate it. I hate the very idea of it. Comrades and friends being forced to kill each other for some sick proof of an ideal is no way to live; no matter if the whole world wants to think that way, it being acceptable doesn’t mean that it should be ok for anyone to not question it. We question drugs, we question the morality of mental health, but we don’t question abuse? murders?” Tenko shook her head. “We are Ultimates. We bring hope to those that can’t do so, in odd ways, yes. But we still do our parts every day, with hard work and determination.” Tenko shook vividly as she said this. “Monokuma took that hope, and twisted it to something of pure evil; all for laughs.” she stood up again, wiping her eyes from the tears and the sniffs. “I can never forgive a person like that, or anyone that supports such actions and ideals. So for that…I have to fight to keep us together, to work together and live another day. Kaede would have wanted that. I, want that.” Tenko greatly emphasizes in her grief.

“…” Maki didn’t know what to say. What could she say? Tenko’s speech caught her off-guard. In truth, Maki never really thought of it that way. A simple life, compared to Tenko’s complex one. To kill, and to protect.

’…Would killing the mastermind truly end this?’ Maki thought to herself. 'Who’s to say someone else will take their place? Someone with equally twisted ideals?’ history shows as much. You kill one dictator, 2 more pop up someone else. Its like killing ants in a way.

’…Have my killings served any purpose, I wonder…’ Maki mused. 'Were they for the greater good? Or for the selfish ambitions of another? …did my actions caused others to die?’

…Well, whatever the answers to that, it doesn’t matter now. Too late to look back on done deeds. But maybe this once…

“…Hey.” Maki got up, and grabbed her knife. She pockets it. “…Tomorrow, same time?” Maki pauses for a moment. “…No knives.”

Surprised, Tenko looks at Maki wide eyed and mouth agape “Maki-chan…?”

Maki stands up and dusts herself off. “I’ll see you then…Tenko.” With that, Maki leaves the Gym, leaving a flabbergasted Tenko behind.

Though once she left, Maki looks at her knife, her own reflection in the silver blade. ’…Fight for others…its not my thing. I doubt it could ever be my thing.’ Maki pockets it again. 'But…maybe just this once…I can try, if only for Tenko, and Kaede. I am an assassin, that will never change. …Yet, would the kids at the orphanage…would they admire me if they knew what I did? What I’ve done?’

Himiko, Angie! I made friends with Maki-chan! I got her to acknowledge me as a friend!

That’s great Tenko! Atua has blessed you indeed!

“Oi, don’t let it go to your head!” Maki yelled angrily, yet couldn’t help herself to smile…if only once.

“Wow, thank you so much, Goryuck! I didn’t expect something like this, but this is such a sweet surprise! I’m going to cherish this forever!”

#it's me! (visage) #Tenmaki #Harushira: strong girls with soft hearts #submission

[mycelier]

Xena Coffee Shop A/U Idea

So Gabrielle works in coffee shop, maybe Starbucks, but more likely a smaller more niche store that is soft and quiet with big squishy couches where all the regulars know and love her. She’s exhausted from managing the place without being an official manager (or maybe she is idk) but she smiles often and the place remains busy despite a Starbucks having moved in just around the block because (although she would absolutely deny this) the patrons look forward to her positivity and advice. But people know not to mess with her or try to cause trouble for her or any of her fellow employees because although she is sweet she’ll kick you out if you even THINK about being rude to any of the employees.

Xena founded a karate/jujitsu/something hybrid gym SOMETHING where her primary focus is helping people (in particular, women or marginalized people who feel weak or unsafe or feel incapable of protecting themselves), but she doesn’t turn away people if they come to her for the right reasons. She hosts daily fighting lessons using different techniques (jujitsu, weapons, hand to hand, p much everything) and had reached an almost legendary status to those who have come to her in their time of need. It is well known in many circles that Xena used to the be the head of a....gang? Crime syndicate? Mob? I’m not sure, but something HUGE and something that made her a lot of money and a LOT of enemies before she left the life for good. I kind of like the idea of her being some kind of crime boss for some huge underground syndicate because that gives some room for some kidnappings and crazy stuff but also that’s hot as hell.

Joxer DEFINITELY becomes an employee by simple virtue of being in the store so much and bugging her so much that he may as well be being paid for it (but also he is...surprisingly good at creating new roasts and making cool new drinks so why not). He thinks he’s suave (like Ares) but deep down knows he’s not.

Ares is the obnoxious rude ass businessman who treads the line of being banned from the store but is accepted only because he buys ENORMOUS amounts of their coffee for his meetings or whatever. He’s buff as hell and has reflexes that put a cat to shame. I’m not sure if he’s officially into martial arts but he knows a lot of things from a lot of places. OH MAYBE HE IS LIKE BIG BOSS OF CRIME SYNDICATE THAT HAD BEEN PARTNERED WITH XENA’S IDK.

Ephiny is a student of Xena’s; she’s amazing but struggles with trusting partners after the loss of her husband (Phantes). Her son is just getting to the point of toddling and she already has him INVOLVED with Xena as much as is physically possible. She also works with Gabrielle in the coffee shop and is the eventual link that brings Gab and Xena together.

Callisto was Xena’s top student and top pain in the ass until the loss of her family. She now trains at a “rival” dojo. She’s constantly proclaiming herself better than Xena and trying to take Xena down a notch or two despite the fact that that’s not how any of this works. She lost her mom and sister in a fire and blames Xena (she was 8 or 9 and a student at Xena’s dojo; Xena took her home one evening with nobody came to pick her up after practice. she tried to run into the burning building but it was too far gone. she claims Xena kept her from saving her family but deep down thinks that if she hadn’t been at practice she might have been able to save them). She will probably have some kind of redemption arc because I feel bad for her even though she is irredeemable (from what I’ve seen so far in the show).

Perdicus worked at the coffee shop but left to figure out how he could win Gabby’s heart (they grew up together and he’s loved her since he knew what love was but she’s always been...unsure). He’s gonna be in the thing as like...some kind of friend at the very least because Callisto did him dirty in the show and I liked him.

Iolus and Hercules MAY run the “rival” gym. “Rival” continues to be in quotes because although everyone in the town sees them (Xena and Herc) as rivals, they have nothing but respect for one another. Herc is in love with Xena (she thought she loved him too..once.) and Iolus THINKS he’s in love with Xena and then thinks he loves Gabby but realizes he loves Hercules; this may be a uniting factor for Xena and Gabby as they work to try and help Iolus overcome his insecurities and confess his feelings to Hercules (who will be startled but is bi as hell and will be really excited because he thought Iolus was SUPER into Gabby/straight as could be).

Autolycus is an art thief a la Cary Grant in Psych. He has a lot of money but lives relatively modestly and donate a fair amount to charities and to Gabby’s coffee shop, all under a pseudonym of course because it could never get out that he secretly wants to be Robin Hood more than anything in the world. Perhaps at some point the coffee shop has gone broke (maybe Krykus runs the shop and he’s an asshole who doesn’t care and ends up stealing a ton of money and running off into the night?????) and Autolycus (and Xena) band together to purchase the shop and put it to Gabby’s name (which upsets Gabby at first until she realizes that they were helped by the ENTIRE STAFF and a lot of the loyal customers because they love her and they love the changes she’s made to the shop).

I’m thinking...maybe one night, late, after Gabby had to stay to do inventory and order stock, she’s mugged. They have a gun and although she’s willing to give them what’s in her wallet, she fights back when they threaten to physically assault her and she ends up punched a few times. Now, depending on how dark I want this to be...she’s either beat up BAD and ends up joining the gym after Ephiny finds her and takes her to the hospital and demands she take better care of herself....but more likely (because it’s HOTTER), Gabby is saved by Xena, who had also been at her gym late doing an inventory and stock of the small pre-packaged bars and shakes she sells or something, important because maybe Gabby will start providing some kind of healthy snack as a thank you to Xena??? Anyway, Xena busts in after Gabby’s beat up and saves the damn day. Now!!! Either Xena falls in love INSTANTLY but keeps it way down because that’s who she is, or she simply thinks Gabby is cute (’m not decided) and is delighted at first when she sees Gabby show up to her gym. Gabby is enraged and frustrated that she wasn’t able to protect herself and Xena shows her how to redirect and channel her anger away from doing harm and into protecting herself.

This will EVENTUALLY and ultimately be a Xena x Gabby fic but I think it’s gonna take a while for Gabby to get there. When she realizes she loves Xena it will hit her like a sack of bricks and she won’t be able to breathe for a few moments as she takes in the woman who has become her best friend in the entire world and realizes that she absolutely loves her.

And that’s more writing or thinking about writing than I’ve done in eons but I wanted to get it down somewhere.

#xena fic idea #xena warrior princess #xena x gabrielle FOREVER #writing ideas for sometime when I actually think I can write #if anyone is even vaguely interested lemme know! #sometimes encouragement goes a long way with me

[aliynavenus]

‘A Little Adjustment’                                          a damirae fanfic 

Prologue

next chapter is out click here to read

“Aw man how much longer till lunch I’m starving.” Jon groaned impatiently, leaning against his chair, acting as if the hunger was going to end him right then and there. 

“Relax. We only have half an hour.” Damian didn’t even lift his head away from the textbook he was reading, the study of hidden techniques of the katana, Of course, the academy would never actually have this in their library so he had to take a part in bringing his own interests from home. Even though he knows every little thing there is to know about his sword, it was the only thing that interested him while passing time during his study hall. 

“Hey look, that transfer is in our class.” Jon leaned in across the table nudging his head to where a young girl sat on the couch displayed across from them, “I heard her name is Rachel. Some people have been talking about her already. They say she gives off like a bad vibe or a scary one, something like that. I mean she does look rather anti-social” he paused, thinking. “Just like you! You should talk to her.” 

Damian didn’t even bother to look up, “You know I have no desire for women.” It was like a reflex when he said it though it was true. Never in his life did he care for women like that, even after all those damn setups his brothers have put him through, yet he always left the girl either crying or shut the door right in their face when they arrived at the manor. 

“You’re no fun. Tons of girls swoon if you even speak to them.” Jon glared at him trying to get Damian to understand yet he got nothing but his eyes wandering at the damn book, “You’re hopeless, I can’t wait to meet the girl who actually makes you feel emotions,” pause, “I’ll be back I have to use the bathroom.” 

Tsk. It felt like everyone around him was wondering if he had any sensibility. His brothers, Jon, even his own father, were all meddling into his life wanting him to be more “sociable.” Like that would ever happen. He wasn't trained to have empathy, he was trained to assassinate anyone that meant necessary feeling no guilt out of it. He was supposed to be the next heir to the league. Yet that all went away when he turned 14 and came here. Even though it’s been 2 years since then he really hasn’t made that much improvement in the realm of “socializing” as his father would say. 

What was the point of it anyway? Everyone at the damn academy were all prids who cared only about their wealth and status having no sense of what actually goes on behind their boring life. They were all the same. Not once has he ever felt like anyone could compare to him. No one could understand the insufferable anguish of destiny to become merely just a weapon to then having to adjust to living ‘normally’, to know that the person he once admired was a demon himself. It all vanished, so what was even the point to get to know someone if they didn't understand. 

Damian lifted his head finally releasing his sight from the textbook. He groaned, craning his neck to stretch it. His version began drifting to the scenery of the library until something caught his eye or someone, someone who he’s never seen before. 

A girl with dark raven hair with pale skin seated on the cushion brown sofa, alone. Oh, this must’ve been the girl Jon was talking about. Her face was stuck to a book. ‘The Truth of the Realm of the Underworld’

He felt taken aback at that, no average girl around here would ever touch a book like that. It almost intrigued him. He tilted his head slightly trying not to be noticeable that he was looking for the features of her face. Finally she lowered the book.

And that’s when he saw her. 

She looked so fascinating and mysterious all at once. Her features were delicate and soft, it was if he could see hidden secrets behind her face, behind those violet eyes if anything. Those eyes, those damn perfect eyes. They were something he’s never seen before. Even at a distance he could see her iris were full of infinite specks like gems. This was the girl people said they feel bad energy from, how in the hell can that even be. She didn’t look scary or anything, she looked pure. 

His chest tightened as he stared at her. What has gotten into him? It was as if he could hear his heartbeat quicken pounding against his ears. A lock then fell out of her hair framing her face, simply tucking it behind her ear, he felt his jaw tighten. Fuck she looks cute. Damian never noticed the uniform on the girls in the academy but the way they fit on her, it was mesmerizing. 

It hugged her perfectly. The clean white button up blouse with a neat red tie around her neck. The short plaid skirt--extremely short, laid perfectly at her thighs. Her skin even looked velvety like a smooth canvas with no imprints. She was so beautiful. 

He then felt his throat being choked by the damn tie. Like that helped his body relax. He never felt more desirous to talk to someone, to know every little thing about them, to touch them. She was something that looked restricted, too good to even lay a finger on, especially with his guilty hands. He needed to know more about her, to understand her, so much that it made him eagered.  

“Everyone! Please evacuate to the main room! I just got word that the city is under attack!” The librarian spoke loudly, alarming everyone to quickly rush towards the exit in panic. 

Rumbling was heard from outside the room, making the floor vibrate within their feet. Sirens of ambulances were blaring outside echoing through the glass windows. Damian needed to get away from these people so he could change. Damn it why did there have to be so many snobs in this damn study. Pushing past everyone to leave the crowd to run to the empty hall to find his locker for his uniform. “Damian! Here!” Jon shouted who was already disguised, throwing Damian’s duffle bag that he kept his uniform in, “Hurry. Bane is throwing grenades everywhere outside the school and having his minions raid the bank.” 

“Thanks Jon. Everyone should be in the main room, make sure they're safe. Don’t let anyone leave the building! Contact Wally and Donna while you’re at it” Damian hollered rushing towards an empty classroom to change. 

“You got it, boss!” 

Changing quickly Damian launched the grappling hook gun to extend out the nearest window to swiftly take him outside to see Bane’s minions robbing the bank across the street from the academy, like that was such a coincidence. Landing perfectly on the ground annihilating himself to his enemies as if they were no more than punching bags. “Your combat could use an increase in reaction.” flipping another minion onto an agonizing pile of them. 

“Robin! Someone is stuck under rubble on the corner, they need help!” Wonder girl yelled in the air with a woman in her arms retrieving her to safety

Damian nodded, running towards the place Donna was referring to. There was someone, someone from the academy. It was Rachel.

What the hell was she doing out of the academy it was a lockdown. He didn’t expect their first meeting to be introduced to her as Robin but hell with it, he needed to get her to safety. 

Rachel’s ankle was stuck under a piece of construction, from one of the grenades that wrecked the concrete. Placing his hand at the small of her back for comfort, “We’ll get you out, stay calm”  and she was. He found it rather strange at first normally people would panic and cling to him wanting to get out in harm's way but she was perfectly fine when he rushed to her. Does she normally get trapped under rumble?

“Robin, watch out!” looking above to see enormous pieces of construction falling right to their direction, instantly taking a hold of her head bringing it close to the crook of his neck, shielding her body with his, waiting for the rumble to crash into them. But it didn’t. When he opened his eyes Raven’s hand were up in the air, dark magic appearing out of it connecting to a force field surrounding them in a bubble protecting them. 

His eyes widen, holy shit. No wonder, she didn’t just seem different to him before, it was because she was. She was a sorcerer.Sure he’s seen tons of shocking things in his life that never appealed to him but this one, it was a whole different story. It was unreal.

Rachel sighed hopeless when she used her powers to lift up the construction under her to release her ankle. “I guess the cat’s out of the bag.” she chuckled dryly against his shoulder, at her charade was now over. 

Damian pulled her head gently away from his shoulder, “Is your ankle injur-Argh!” A sudden hit from a baton was swung against the side of his head. One of those damn criminals managed to get a hit on him by surprise. Damian gritted his teeth ignoring the blood rushing down his head turning to the enemy to torture him. Although that didn’t even need to happen when he saw the masked man being lifted from the ground and flung to the other side of the street. 

“Are you okay?” her worried voice came behind him leaning her body up towards him to touch the damage of his head. It was the first time he’s ever heard her speak, her voice was soft yet filed with emotion when she saw his wound. He felt the touch of her fingers gently being dozed in his blood against his skin. Even though he had farther worse injuries than this it felt like her touch burned him, yearning for her. 

He felt his throat dry up, “Yea, it doesn’t hurt.” she looked at him with worry “I’ll be fine.” he assured her. “Isn’t your ankle hurting.” 

“I didn’t want people to see I had powers, it didn’t hurt me. But I can heal you. Let me heal you please it won’t take long.” concern was filled in her expression. He felt his stomach twist with her touches on his arm and head. It was almost like he surrendered in her grasp. 

“Okay. Do it fast.” 

She nodded rolling up her sleeves, placing both her palms on the side of his head. Amethyst. That was the color of her eyes up close. They were big and gazing and full of mystery that he wanted to seek. Seeing her face up close, she was naturally beautiful. He felt his chest tighten once again but this time he felt like his whole body felt tense having her in his reach. Shortly he felt the slow stings takeover the wound, yet it wasn’t painful. It felt bitter but a pleasurable sensation overriding his damaged flesh. It was warm and contagious feeling her powers run through his veins. Sensing his bloody wound reattaching onto clean skin, admittedly it felt enjoyable knowing this came from Rachel. He let out a soft breath from his lips as he felt the tenderness disappear, damn it felt good. 

Then something unexpected happened, writing in a form he never recognized appeared on her arm in glowing red ink. What the hell? Is that normal? Something told him it wasn’t seeing her face expression change. It didn’t look like she knew that was going to happen either. He watched as it soon faded away leaving not a mark on her skin. 

“What was tha--” 

“Robin! We need your help here!” Donna and Wally called out to him who were tangled up in forcing Bane to the ground but having trouble in doing so. 

“Right” he nodded, lifting her to her feet “Get back to the academy, it's safer there.” Running towards his teammates he could hear Rachel whisper something, it was distant. 

“This can’t be good.” 

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

After a successful mission of taking Bane back to the Asylum and returning the money he had stolen, Damian headed straight to the batcave, still in his Robin uniform, seating himself in front of the main frame. 

“What are you looking for?” His father’s voice came from behind him.

To be fair he wasn’t even sure. Right after the mission he came here to do some research on the writing that appeared on Rachel’s arm and her background. He knew his father had to have some relative information about her considering he has information on everyone who are of the abnormal, even his acquaintances. “Just doing some research. Must you monitor everything I do.” 

“No but it is my job to keep you on track to fully live your life and your life as Robin separate.” 

There his father went on again always speaking of terms of wanting him to socialize more. ‘To fully live it’ whatever that meant. “I am living.” 

“Not both. You're living more as Robin than Damian. You haven’t made any new friends except Jon. You only speak to Donna and Wally when you have missions. When are you going to start acting like a teenager your age.” his father’s words were like a blade to his skin. He hated when he acted like this it was an unavoidable irritation. 

“I wasn’t trained to make friends, Father. I was trained for the good of humanity.” Damian bit back defensively, turning himself to his eye father to come to full view of him dressed in his business attire. 

“You aren’t even a part of it.” Bruce sighed walking towards the main screen tapping keys in “I have a new mission for you, Damian. Think of it as an experiment and experience for you” 

“What’s the mission?” 

“You’re nemesis, Slade was spotted in Tokyo. Something tells me he’s going to stay there for awhile. There have been also, new leads in a new chemical serum that could be developed into making metas stronger. It’s a drug for them, yet I can’t calculate where the origin is. Which is why I’m sending you.” 

Damian felt like something was off about his mission, he knew there was another purpose to this, “What’s the catch Father? Why can’t you simply do it?” 

“I chose this for you. I want to send you there to deal with understanding people your age and socializing with them. You’ll be finishing your junior year there and come back before your senior year starts. Everything is already purchased. So we both get what we want. You get to track down Slade as well as any incoming missions sent to you and also, you get to take part in a society meeting people who aren’t abnormal.” 

Damian had to say it was a request he couldn’t resist, if it involved Slade. It was like a cat and mouse game that he enjoyed ever since leaving his deceased grandfather’s side. It sounded well but something left him reluctant. He was going to be gone for a year, sure that meant leaving Jon too, it also meant Jon was going to lead Wally and Donna in crisis. Yet the only images that struck his head were her. Rachel. If he left that meant he could no longer seek wanting to see what more she was. Here he was getting the opportunity he’s always wanted, hunting Slade and leaving the meddling voices of his Father and brothers behind yet he felt hesitant. He almost felt pathetic. 

“I accept, Father.” Damian leveled his eyes to meet him out of respect. Bruce nodded, “You’re flight leaves tomorrow night. I’ll leave you to it.” he said, walking to the exit of the cave leaving Damian to spin back to the screen dialing as information about Rachel. If he had 22 hours before he left, he might as well gather information on Rachel about her origins so he could inform Jon that a new sorcerer was walking around the academy.

Typing in her name instantly took him to another page that blared at him. Of course he was right, his father did have at least some relative information about her. One of the few benefits about him. 

‘Rachel Roth also known as Raven’  so Raven was her real name, it was fitting. He continued on reading everything there was to know, ‘Daughter of Trigon. Left her home Azarath and was spotted a month ago in the city.’  It was quite surprising, he didn’t know Trigon had a daughter.

At least they had something in common, both being raised by demons only to be brought into another way of living. He’d never expect to feel so familiar to someone just by reading pieces of information about her. It felt almost pleasant yet unusual feeling that way. Unfortunately not much was gathered about her considering it’s all new and untraced. 

He stretched against the leather chair acknowledging that this research shall be put on pause for the night. Entering the changing room in the cave to peel his uniform off to change into joggers, leaving himself shirtless. He paused to think about her. Should a woman be this much on his mind?. He almost felt disappointed that he wasn’t going to admire her for a year. It pained him. It was like his mind was being ambushed by images of her, her eyes, her touch. It was all too damn good. That he craved it.

 A sharp tingly started to form against his foreman. It was writing the same writing that appeared on Raven after she healed him. Why did it appear now? Why did it appear on him? Was this like a mark that was supposed to be left on the body after being healed by her. It was strange but no distress came from him, just comfort. The same kind of comfort that he felt when he was in her grasp. Within a second it vanished, leaving no trace of it left. His body felt no different, it didn’t feel like a threat. Maybe it was just a form of writing after being healed. Like a brandment. For some reason he kind of likes the idea of being marked by her. It made him feel connected to her, he liked it. 

But he couldn’t. He was going away for a whole school year. He was going to forget her, these feelings whatever they were, had to be gone  And he knew for sure they were, he was Damian fuckin Wayne Al Gual. He could do anything, anything but gain feelings for a girl. 

And oh was he so wrong. 

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

So if you made it to here. This is a multi chapter fanfic and the summary is basically these. 

After attending a full year at an off the coast boarding school as well as being involved in an undercover mission, Damian is back to the city for his senior year, after completing his missions. Going back to his subtle ways of living with his father. Attending night patrol around the city. Things of course wouldn’t be any different. Until his best friend, Jon all of a sudden has a new familiar looking step sister -- Raven aka Rachel Roth Kent. The one girl who caught his eye back in the Academy before his departure. Although now having Raven part of the Kent family who also unknowingly knows that her new adoptive family are a bunch of heroes living under her nose. Right nothing much has changed. Just adjustments for the demonbirds  

there will be lots of fluff. lots of angst. and smut lol. 

#damirae #demonbirds #damian x raven #raven x damian #damian and raven #raven and damian #damian wayne #rachel roth #rachel roth kent #dc fanfiction #justice league dark: apokolips war #teen titans #its finally hereeeee #i did a thing #ahhhhhh another 3 am thing #my babiessss #a little adjustment fanfic

[amydancepants-peralta]

For the most recent prompts, no. 35 with peraltiago?

I’d love to!  🌟 Here’s a little something for 35: “Your stray red item turned my whites pink.”

love, in full colour 

Today was turning out to be a pretty great Sunday for Amy, as she stretches her legs out on her boyfriend Jake’s surprisingly comfortable couch and presses play on the documentary he had so sweetly recorded for her.  Weekends off had always been a favourite of hers, but if there’s anything that the past nine months has told her, it's that weekends off when you’re dating Jake Peralta are just so much better.  

She had woken up this morning to Jake’s familiar sleepy cuddles, morning stubble scratching against her skin and sending tingles up and down her spine as his arms wrapped around her waist, convincing her in approximately 2.3 seconds that sleeping in definitely wasn’t such a bad thing (especially when it eventually leads to … other things).  It had been a long week; made all the longer by a perp that had decided to play cat and mouse with the detectives of the nine-nine, and even after they’d stumbled out of bed and toasted bagels for breakfast, Amy genuinely didn’t have any desire to have a day any more productive than TV, blankets, and (most importantly), Jake.  

It had been close to half an hour ago that he’d slipped out of the apartment for the second time, basket in hand as he’d headed back down to the laundry room to collect the washing he’d put on earlier.  Rebuffing her offers of help with a swift kiss to her lips, he’d simply reminded Amy of the program ready and waiting for her, throwing out a “Love you!” as he’d headed for the door, and honestly if Amy’s Sunday hadn’t already been looking great, that moment right there just absolutely topped it.  

(It’s been months since they’d started saying it - those three little words that had seemed so terrifying but actually were up there with her favourite phrases ever - but they still managed to spark a tiny ball of happiness inside her every single time the words came out of Jake’s mouth.  She supposes that this is what love is, really - sour candy flavoured kisses and laughter in the darkness - and she’s so thankful that she found it in Jake.)

The documentary has been playing for ten or so minutes before Amy’s index finger begins hovering over the pause button, one part still interested in the manufacturing process of the world’s oldest brass instruments, and one (slightly louder) part feeling strangely empty without her boyfriend’s warm chest to rest up against.  (Even though she knows he would spending the entire program playing on his phone, there’s something about his presence that just makes everything … better.)

Amy’s still in Consideration Mode when she hears Jake’s key slide into the lock, and it’s ridiculous how big her smile begins to get, but as she tips her face up to catch his eyes her lips falter on their ascent.  

There’s an obvious air of frustration surrounding him as he skulks past her, holding the plastic basket close to his hip as he heads towards the bed on the other side of his loft-style apartment.  It bounces slightly against the recently remade duvet as Jake dumps the contents onto the mattress, his frustrations quickly bubbling to the surface, and without hesitation Amy forgoes the remote control, standing quickly to join her boyfriend by his bed.  

“Everything okay?”

He nods, letting out a soft grunt as he half-heartedly starts folding the newly cleaned clothes, and honestly Amy is trying not to pay attention to his folding technique, but her fingers are just itching to take over.  There’s still a slight pout on his face, small enough for her to pick up on, and it takes precedent over any Kondo-like techniques that she might be dying to demonstrate.  “You sure?”

Jake gives her another nod, followed quickly by a shrug.  “I mean, there’s one little problem with the laundry that I don’t know how to fix, but … it’s no biggie.”

“A problem with your laundry?”

“Yeah.”  He sighs, balling up the t-shirt in his hand before dropping it back into the pile, using his free hand to run through his hair, which has just started to get long enough to curl.  “Turns out there was a stray item of yours that was in my laundry.  I mean, there were a few things, and that makes total sense, but there was one item in particular - a red item, actually - that I think might be the culprit.”

“The culprit?”

“So … I might not have noticed have been paying close attention when I transferred everything to the dryer, and well …”  he lifts up a pair of socks, similar to the ones he wore to bed last week except now they were a deep pink, and Amy tries her best to stifle her giggle.  “There’s like … another three pairs just like it,” he adds with a mumble.    

“But!  May I present to you, detective: the guilty party.”  Transferring the socks to his left, his right hand digs through the pile before pulling out a lacy red bra that Amy may have recently bought purely on the knowledge that it was one of Jake’s favourite colours on her.

(To be fair, he might have told her that all of the colours were his favourite colours on her, but she’s definitely seen a positive response to the colour red in the past.)

“Alleged guilty party, thank you very much,” Amy begins, grinning to take the edge off of her response.  “Plus, you didn’t seem to mind that bra so much last night, if I recall correctly.”

She reaches for the offending item, and Jake’s fingers tighten around the lace, holding her bra close to his chest, and she giggles at his reflexive response.  “Despite my flinging it across the room, I can confirm that I did - and DO - indeed love it.  Almost as much as I love the person who was wearing it.”

Her cheeks begin to turn the same colour as the socks in her boyfriend’s hand, and Amy cocks her head to the side.  “I love you too, babe.  So … what’s the problem you can’t figure out?  If it’s the pink you’re worried about, a bit of bleach will get that right out.”

“Huh?”  He lifts his hand up, glancing at the item that Amy is pointing to.  “Oh.  Nah.  I don’t care about the colour.  You and I both know that I would rock this pink.  I can already tell it’s going to highlight my ankles in the perfect way.  Really accentuate my curves, you know?  I just ..”

Even before they were something more than partners, Amy could see through Jake’s ‘make a joke to conceal how I’m really feeling about something’ technique, and today is no exception.  Taking the smallest of steps closer to him, she softens her voice ever so slightly.  “Jake?”

His shoulders slump to the floor, and his right hand releases her lingerie.  “I just … I feel so stupid.  I’m trying to be the perfectly domesticated boyfriend, a responsible adult who cleans up after himself and doesn’t leave empty pizza boxes everywhere.”  His eyes drop to the floor briefly before flicking back up to meet hers, and the sincerity in his gaze cuts Amy to the quick.  “You know, the kinda guy that doesn’t need supervising in the laundry room, or whatever.”  His hand closes tightly around the socks before dropping it back into the pile, and when he looks back up at Amy she can see the disappointment stretched across his face.  “And obviously, I completely failed.  I wasn’t going to say anything, but .. I dunno, I guess maybe I don’t want to keep things from you or something.”

In all honesty, Amy’s not entirely sure what she was expecting Jake’s answer to be, but it definitely wasn’t that.  She stands still in front of him for the longest minute as a result, mouth open slightly as her mind races to absorb his response.    

He takes her silence as a request for more information, and shuffles his sneaker covered feet against the floorboards.  “It’s just … I know that people think that you’re way too good for me.  And to be fair, they’re not entirely wrong.  I was just hoping that I could find a way to bridge the gap a little … try and make it a little less obvious that I’m punching well above my weight.  And then I couldn’t even do the damn laundry right.”

At any given moment, Amy could present to any asking stranger a million reasons why Jake Peralta was the man that had captured her heart, and the notion that the justification was coming from her very own boyfriend was making her soul ache more than a little bit.  

Anybody that thought he wasn’t good enough for her could go jump in the Gowanus Canal, for all she cared.  But the thought that Jake considered it to be true?  Nuh-uh.  Not on her watch.

She moves closer to him, close enough to smell the oddly intoxicating body wash he uses - the one that always seems to get her pulse racing, but she suspects that it’s more due to the user than the product itself.  “Jake.  You specifically ordered dinner last night from the Chinese restaurant that was exactly thirty-five minutes away from your apartment, knowing that I would be over in twenty and you wanted to give me a chance to settle before the food arrived.”

“That, and they do the best dumplings.  But yeah, you’re right - mostly the time thing.”  

“I woke up this morning on a cloud of a mattress, one that you bought purely so that I would be able actually sleep when I stayed over.”

Jake’s mouth twists to one side, and after a beat he folds his arms across his chest.  “I just wanted you to feel comfortable … with the added bonus of you staying over more often.  Although I have to admit, once you’ve realised you have a dumpster mattress, it’s actually really hard to ignore the springs that dig into your back in the middle of the night.”

Amy’s smile grows bigger, reaching out to rest her palm flat against his chest.  “And then you made us both bagels, with extra cream cheese - something that I know you don’t normally have in your fridge, which tells me you went grocery shopping just in case I stayed over.  Not to mention the documentary on brass instruments that you ‘happened to see scheduled and just recorded’, because you knew I would want to watch it eventually.”

“It actually looked pretty cool,” he mumbles, shrugging his shoulders in an attempt to make it seem like a lesser deal than it actually was.  

“And don’t think I didn’t notice the freshly cleaned sheets, and the space you’d made for me in your bathroom cabinet months ago.”

“…. Are you … journaling all of this somewhere?”

Letting out a soft chuckle, Amy shakes her head.  “My point is, you are rocking the boyfriend role, babe.  Seriously.  You have been so sweet and attentive, without ever getting too much, and honestly I’ve just had the best time with you.  I hope you know just how much I appreciate it … how much I appreciate you, and how great you make me feel whenever you’re around.  Seriously, you should feel my heart sometimes, I feel like it’s going to beat right out of my chest.”

He still has a slightly wary look on his face, but as Amy wraps her arms around his shoulders, crossing her wrists behind his neck, Jake’s hands wrap around her waist in automatic response.  “I love you, Jake Peralta.  For everything you are, exactly as you come.”

A slight blush begins to wash across his cheeks, and oh, how she just wants to kiss this ridiculous notion right off of his lips.  “I love you too, Ames.  You’re just … the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”  His grip on her hips grows a little tighter, and his voice lowers.  “And I’m sorry if all of this sounded totally stupid, I just … want to make you as happy as you’ve made me.” 

“Mission accomplished, babe.  You’re everything I want, I don’t give two hoots what anybody else thinks.”  Punctuating her sentence with a soft kiss, she rests her hands on either side of his neck and raises her eyebrows suggestively.  “Now, why don’t we take care of this laundry so the bed is nice and clear, and then I can show you just how much you are the right person for me.”

“Noice.  Just checking though … that doesn’t mean ‘throw everything to the floor so that I can immediately ravage my super-hot boyfriend’, does it?”

Cocking her head to the side, Amy grins.  “You should definitely trust your instincts on that one.”

“10-4.  We’re going to fold the heck out of this laundry.”

*

It’s a several years older Jake Peralta that fishes into his sock drawer one early afternoon, desperately looking for those just thick enough socks that he hasn’t seen in months but is sure he hasn’t thrown away.  They’re tucked up right along the furtherest edge of the drawer, in a position that Amy’s engagement ring had once also called home, and he grins when his fingers wrap around the hidden treasure.

They’re a little less pink these days, having been through the wash several times since their re-colouring, but he can still make out the slight tinge when he holds them up to the light.  Pulling them on with vigour, he makes his way back out to the living room to join his wife and son - knowing that both are looking forward to the start of their midday movie session - and also just as eager for some much-needed Family Time.  

“Okay, made it,”  Jake announces, lifting up the bag of candy he’d snagged from the kitchen as he’d passed, “and I brought snacks.”  From his left, his son Mac looks up from his position snuggled into Amy’s side, and upon clocking Jake’s sudden appearance he beams (the kind of smile that just makes Jake’s heart soar, every. time.), scrambling in his clumsy toddler-esque style to climb onto Jake’s lap, wrapping his arms around his father’s neck in the very best way that his still so chonky arms will allow.  Casting the bag of snacks to the side, Jake whispers “ready to watch the movie, little man?”, reaching out to tweak Mac’s button nose (a thankful inheritance from his mother) when he nods.  

Turning his head further to the left as he wraps his arms around his son, Jake catches Amy’s eyes, noticing them sparkle as she takes it all in.  Shuffling ever so slightly, Jake moves an inch to the left so that his left arm can rest on his wife’s legs, and she curls her fingers around his with one hand as she presses play on the remote with the other.  

His crossed feet plonk onto the coffee table in front of him, and as he glances briefly at his socks before turning his attention back to the movie, Jake cannot help but think of the younger version of himself that had felt so insecure about his relationship with Amy.  She is, after all, the love of his life (a fact that perhaps he hadn’t been ready to acknowledge back then, but one that was true within weeks of them dating all the same), and he was hers.  Maybe if he’d been able to see that, he wouldn’t have taken the little things like a pair of newly coloured socks so hard.

Amy’s fingers squeeze his gently, and after glancing at her from the corner of his eye, Jake picks up on the fact that she’s just noticed his choice in attire.  It would appear that the pink tinge is just as noticeable to her and it is to him - a fact that makes his heart more than a little bit happy - and when she tugs him a little closer he closes the gap between them, pressing his lips against hers in a chaste but loving kiss.

He cannot deny the smile that is growing on his face as they both pull away, returning their attention to the screen in front of them but keeping their fingers linked all the while.  This right here, was everything that he needed - and undoubtedly, everything he deserved - and he genuinely cannot wait to raise Mac together with Amy, and show their son just how amazing the world can be when you always have love on your side.  

#little throwback fic for kicks #dating peraltiago #with some bonus Mac action for good measure #I hope you like this! #tumblr prompts #b99 fanfic #jake x amy fic #peraltiago fanfiction

[kingofthecon]

Continued From: [○] @modelbehxvior

Okay yeah, that's not what he meant and he was pretty sure that Cat Boy knew it. Honestly the guy was way too easy to provoke which made it all the more fun for Possy to push his buttons. As he ran side by side with the cat clad hero he watched him from the corner of his eye unable to ignore the other's annoyance, most likely with him and his greeting. That honestly made him smile even more. His smile was wiped from his face, however, when he heard the fate of their fair LeaderBug.

"So that's the real reason why your panties are all in'a twist, huh? And here I thought it was just me getting on your nerves in record time." Despite the teasing it was easy to sense the shift in the possum themed hero's demeanor. One of their own was in trouble and though Possy didn't have the hots for her like Cat did (honestly if the guy was anymore transparent he'd be invisible), he wasn't going to let anything happen to her or anyone else so long as he could help it. "Let's pick up the pace," he said as he forced himself to pick up speed. Once close enough to the fighting he could make out the akumatized victim, and the sight rendered him immobile. Whoever was akumatized was weirdly proportioned. They were at least thirty feet in height with six arms and hands. What made him pause was hearing the person yelling at Ladybug, something about not wanting to be the freak kid here in Paris either. That's when it seemed to click. Possy's ears and tails drooped as his eyes widened. He looked at the individual's hands just to make sure. "Sixer?" he muttered, unaware of the fact that he was just standing there, out in the open with his mouth agape. His guard was completely down as he found himself getting angry on his brother's behalf. Who the heck... A tuft of yellow hair peaking out from behind Ladybug was answer enough. "Chloe," he growled wishing that she was a guy so that he could deck her in the face for making fun of his twin before he found himself on the ground after having been knocked down. He realized that he'd been spotted. He was knocked through the air and would have hit the ground of it wasn't for his heightened reflexes. He leaned back in the air until he flipped around. With his butt in the air his tail was free to grab on to the nearest light post. He swung backward and then forward towards his brother while relinquishing his tail's grip. He had given himself a running start as he headed for his twin while mentally berating himself for not paying attention while simultaneously asking what the heck he was supposed to do in this situation. "Alright, I'll forgive you for that sucker punch mainly because it was a nice shot but you only get the one!" When another arm came flying his way he jumped to dodge only to have to use his tail to latch on to the wrist to pull him out of the way of another one. "Right. You have six of these." Once he was safe and had pulled himself up on his brother's wrist he took off towards his body while shouting down for Ladybug and Cat Noir. "I'LL DISTRACT HIM. LADYBUG YA GOTTA GET BLONDZILLA OUTTA HERE! CAT-TASTROPHE, YER WITH ME!" "WHO ARE YOU CALLING BLONDZILLA, YOU LOUSY EXCUSE FOR A SUPERHERO! UGH, LADYBUG IS THE ONLY COMPETENT ONE OUT OF THE BUNCH, ASIDE FRM MYSELF OF COURSE. THE AUDACITY! MY FATHER WILL BE HEARING ABOUT--" "Shaddap! You're only making it worse!" It really didn't take a genius to know that she was Stanford's target. It also didn't take a genius to know that Stanford probably wasn't thinking straight and was lumping the spotted hearing in with her since girls were a clique and she was defending his tormentor. Girls were always the cruelest to Ford. At least the guys would make their intentions clear by starting fights and shoving him into lockers. Girls would typically lead him on, trick him into thinking he was interested and then laughing in his face for him falling for it in front of a group of their little gal pals or even their actual boyfriends. This was probably a combination of all of that combined with the stress of being the new kid. He shouldn't have left his twin alone, but Ford had insisted he would be fine especially since they'd been there for a few weeks now and nothing had too much happened. Then again it was probably because there were twins in class and Ford had been hiding his hands and sitting in the back and keeping to himself...until recently. 'Damn it, Hawk Moth, Chloe.' It didn't occur to him that it was probably weird for him to be calling the shots seeing as how Ladybug was usually the one in charge, but it was easy to see that Ford was being pretty relentless towards the girls, another clue that Ford wasn't all there. He'd never try to flattened two ladies like a pancake even if one of them was a nightmare to deal with even in short doses. Hopefully if Ladybug got the loudmouth blond out of there it would calm down Ford and also give Ladybug the opportunity to get to a better vantage point to try to find where the akuma might have rested itself. That meant he and the cat had to do what they did best. Annoy their opponent.

#modelbehxvior #—Swindler's Folly #► Opossumus Prime #x-overs #this'll be 4 #feels like a 4 to me

[cheerynoir]

How Do We Come Back From This?

@c0ffeebee this one’s for you, and the three other people in this rowboat of a fandom. Please excuse any wonky characterization or mistakes, they’re all my own. Unebta’d. TW: smoking, drunkenness, drunk sex, Angst, Rio [Rio Is Her Own Warning].

#

Eventually the music gave him a headache and the crush of people made him claustrophobic. So Mateo stepped out for fresh air and shivered at the chill of it as his sweat cooled. His ears rang in the sudden quiet. Smokers huddled in little knots, here and there, and he leaned back upwind of them, breathing deep. It was nice to hear himself think for once.

“Got a light?” asked a smooth voice, and he turned and found a white woman in a man’s coat. Red hair. Dark, wide-set eyes. Something about her — the twist of her mouth, maybe — reminded him of a fox.

“Oh, uh, yeah,” he said, and fumbled for the cheap zippo he’s started carrying when he realized most of his new friends lived on cigarettes and caffeine (and Rico was perpetually short a light).

He lit her cigarette and she smoked in silence for a while, before turning to him and pulling him into a conversation. He couldn’t remember what they spoke of - dancing, maybe? - but he knew the alley seemed very small, suddenly, with how they gravitated closer and closer. She tipped her face up for him, and it was a nice face, fine-boned and sharp-edged—

“Mateo,” cut in Diego. Mateo startled. He hadn’t even heard the back door bang open. “There you are.”

He didn’t look happy, but Mateo mustered up a smile. “Hey! I was just talking with—”

“Fuck off, Rio,” said Diego, without looking at Mateo at all. It was like he hadn’t spoken. A muscle in Diego’s jaw worked, and Mateo’d never seen him so closed off.

“Good seeing you, too, Diego,” the redhead replied, smirking a lopsided little smirk. “See you around, baby. Thanks for the light.”

“Don’t,” started Mateo, but the woman was already slinking away. “Call me that,” he muttered, and rubbed the back of his neck, feeling - out of sorts. Diego’s glower settled on him, black and heavy. “What?”

“Steer clear of her,” he said. And gestured impatiently. “C’mon. Fly’s looking for you.”

“What? Why? She seemed—” Hot. Intense. Dangerous. “— fine?”

Diego huffed out a breath and slammed the service door behind them, shifting his weight from foot to foot. “Well she’s not. She’s a crazy bitch and you’re better off telling her to fuck herself.”

“Why?”

Diego sucked his teeth, looking torn. But he rolled his shoulders and gave his head a shake, looking like he was getting ready for a brawl.

“Rico doesn’t like her,” he settled on at last. “She’s banned from The Cat.”

That drew him up short. “What? I thought you only banned, like, cops and Nazis. Is she a Nazi?”

“No.” Jaw tight, he waved Mateo on. “Go on. You know how he gets.”

So he went, confused, and the feeling lingered, even through the happy fog that being in Fly’s orbit always left him in. Dett seemed to notice, because she snagged him a little later, a tray of shots in one hand.

“What’s up, baby?”

“Don’t call me that,” he said, reflexive. Then, “Hey, do you know Rio? White girl, red hair? Kind of foxy?”

Dett narrowed her eyes at him, but jerked her chin. He trailed her awkwardly as she wound across the floor, making sales and gathering empties.

“She and Rico used to hang out,” she said on the way back to the bar, mouth a lipsticked twist of displeasure. The words felt forced, like maybe he’d yanked them out along with some teeth, maybe.

“They dated?”

“I don’t know what they did, except egg each other on. Like two sides of a fucking coin,” said Dett. “Fuck this - Fly! I’m taking my 15 and stealing your duckling!”

Engaged with a rowdy bachelorette party, flashing the flirty customer service grin Mateo hated, Rico only lifted a hand to wave her off. Mateo trailed her back out to the alley, feeling weirdly unsettled.

“I thought he didn’t date,” he ventured at last, settling down on an overturned milk-crate. That was his thing, wasn’t it? Unattainable, charismatic, painfully cool Fly Rico, who’d flirt with anybody but never follow through.

“Aw, ducky. He doesn’t date the babies. Everyone else is fair game,” she said, and patted his knee. “Buck up. So Rio was this spooky bitch who hung around for a while, back when we were younger and dumber. She loved to stir the pot and drag Rico into shit. Tagging a building wasn’t enough, she had to try and smash up a police station, that kind of thing, y’know?”

Something warm settled in the pit of his stomach. He leaned forward and watched Dett light a cigarette and blow a series of wobbly smoke rings. What were they like, back then? What was Rico like, young and wild and hungry for everything? It itched at him like smoke in his lungs, the curiosity.

But Dett drew up short and fixed him with a heavy, pointed look. “Hey. I’m only telling you this so you get th point. She’s bad news. I tell you, and you never bring it up again, never even breathe this bitch’s name, you got it?”

“I got it.”

“Swear,” she said sharply.

A lifetime of promises to Fina – sacred things, big and small – had him crossing his heart with the tip of his finger before he’d even realized his hand had moved. “I swear,” he said, and meant it. What was one more secret for the pile? He’d die before he told. But Dett only eyed him and smoked furiously for a few long minutes. Then she nodded, and seemed to relent.

“So one night we’re all out partying, and Rio disappears for a bit. Gets into a fight with some dick twice her size - and Rico jumps in to save her ass, break it up, whatever.” Dett blew out about sigh, sounding frustrated. “She got him knifed - or knifed him herself. I wasn’t there, I didn’t see. And you know him. He’d never rat. But. He nearly died.”

“What?” said Mateo, as if from a long ways away. The ember in the pit of his stomach turned to ice. He swallowed hard.

“In the hospital, after - I’d never seen Papa so mad. Banned Rio for life, not that any of us were fighting for her. She took off, before the police and the paramedics showed up, while D and I - and all the blood. There was so much blood, that night.” Cigarette between her teeth, her gaze fell to her empty hands. She flexed them slowly, like she could feel the hot red stain there, still. Then she took a deep breath and swallowed. Visibly yanked herself back from the edge.

“She never visited - I would have killed her if she tried. After he healed up, she started sniffing around again, so Fly burned her, and now nobody fucks with her at all. So you steer clear of her, too. She only turns up trouble.”

“Okay,” he said, faintly. He’d thought she was hot and smooth, before. Smoking a cigarette and looking like she wanted to swallow him whole. She got him knifed. He nearly died. Attraction withered and died, there, in the alley way. He didn’t fight it, and he didn’t grieve.

A few days later, when he was taking a breather around eleven, Rio turned up again. Mateo ducked back inside without greeting her and couldn’t help sticking close to the bar, close to Fly, after. Like she was going to follow him in to finish what she started, maybe. Like he needed to see Rico whole and well and flirting carelessly for tips. It made his chest ache to see it, and his teeth hurt from clenching his jaw.

But he was fine. It was fine. Rico was perfectly healthy and what he did for his job was none of Mateo’s business.

She was gone when Mateo followed Fly out into the back alley a while later, anxiously curling and uncurling his fists. Even when Fly grinned at him, shoving his sweat-dark hair out of his eyes, even when he ducked his head to chase the lighter’s flame, Mateo couldn’t relax, couldn’t stop jumping at shadows. The pinpricks of light reflected in Fly’s eyes like distant stars, and the fire kissed his cheeks and turned his eyelashes to gauzy spiderwebs, and he watched Mateo, honey-slow, with a smile tucked into the corner of his mouth and he—

He still couldn’t relax.

It was a long night.

#

The door slammed behind him, the loudest sound in the whole world. Mateo stumbled, then staggered, then the wall surged up under his hands and he managed to stay upright, thank God. He didn’t think his legs would hold if he fell and needed to get back up, just now.

The world spun in a wobbly, nauseating blur. Mateo shut his eyes and tried to breathe through it, though he felt his stomach churning and his throat twitching like he was gonna gag.

He swallowed, and shut his mouth tight, and breathed. He didn’t wanna throw up. Not right now and not outside The Cat, where Rico was inside with some guy with a shitty haircut and his pretty hands all over the guy, laughing into his shoulder as they moved to the electric beat. The only two people in the fucking world, apparently.

Some night off.

Tears threatened, and Mateo tried to swallow those too. He laid his hot cheek against the brick and scraped it, feeling the roughness catch on his skin. It distracted him, and it was cool, and everything was terrible but at least he had this wall right here.

“Shit,” he mumbled, a slow-dawning realization. “Shit, I’m hammered.“

Absolutely soaked, crowed the little voice in the back of his head that sounded like Rico at his happiest. It felt like getting stabbed right between his ribs, hearing that. It hurt, it hurt. Hurt like Raul telling him, gentle and so damn kind, ‘Maybe you should give this a rest, huh?’ because he had his answer and Rico didn’t want him, wouldn’t ever want him. Mateo’s breath punched out in a ragged sob and then he couldn’t stop. The dam shattered and the tears and hurt poured out.

He wiped at his face with both hands, like he had when he was just a kid tagging along at the grocery store and so worked up about something that there was snot and tears everywhere and too many eyes watching and Tiago was getting frustrated with him again—

“You okay, baby?”

Mateo wanted it to be Rico so bad. So bad it hurt, even. He wanted Rico’s warm eyes and pretty hands and husky voice, and his arm around Mateo’s shoulders like the only thing anchoring him to the earth. The heat of him, and the smell of his sandalwood-and-spice cologne, and his quicksilver grin. Mateo wanted him. But it was only some girl with a fox face. He sniffled at her, and felt her hand on his arm like an afterthought. She was looking at him like -

Like she wanted him.

God, he wanted to be wanted. Just a little. Just a bit.

“No,” he told her, drunk and honest.

She smiled with one side of her mouth, and wiped the tears off his cheeks with both thumbs. Her hands were cool and sure. He leaned into her, and her smile widened with a flash of teeth.

“Well,” she said, “let’s see if we can fix that, huh?”

And then they were kissing and the world dissolved into heat and want and relief like cool sweet water on a parched throat. She wanted him, and it was simple and it made heat bloom in the pit of his stomach. Her back hit the brick and her mouth opened under his and it was good, God, it was so good. She tasted like mint and whiskey and he chased the taste of it while her fingernails raked down his back.

She groaned against his cheek when he hitched one of her legs up over his hip, grinding in close. It made him wonder dizzily if he could do it. If he could hike up her other leg and have her right here against the wall in front of God or anybody. Her pulse pounded under his tongue, and she arched into his hands, and she was so fucking soft and she wanted him and he wanted—

“Mm,” she sighed, and her head lolled back, and he mouthed at her neck like something starved.  “Find us a room, baby.”

“Nn?” Words were too hard. He was too hard. He lifted his head when she pulled on his hair and fixed him with a black-eyed stare. All pupil. She licked her lower lip in a flash of pink, and he dipped to do the same, but her grip on his hair tightened in a stinging flash of heat. He bit back a moan.

“A room,” she repeated. “A motel or something.”

There was one a couple of blocks over. The Sunset Motel. But even a couple of blocks felt like too far, with her pressed so close.

“Alright,” he panted, and stamped a messy kiss across her mouth. “Alright. C’mon.”

The Sunset was close, but there was an apartment above The Cat that would be empty this time of night, with two of its occupants working and one with his hands all over some guy with a shitty haircut. Mateo led the way, knocking the loose brick out of the wall and scraping up his fingers to get at the spare key. The inside of the apartment was dark, and the floor vibrated in time with the music pounding below. The girl laughed, low and husky and hot, and they were kissing again, tripping over each other and the coffee-table. Mateo managed to kick the door shut behind them, and then it was a scramble – out of clothes, into the nearest bedroom – and then—

Things got a little hazy, then. Clarity came in little flashes: one cold hand against his navel while the other rolled a condom down his length, the flash of red hair against a grey pillowcase, the ragged noise she made when he pressed his fingers – his cock – inside her. The smell of musk and sweat and sandalwood that clung to the skin of her throat where he pressed his greedy mouth.

After, he must have slept, because he woke reaching for her. The whole process repeated itself – once, then twice. Her hands, her mouth, the hot clutch of her body. The fevered intensity of her stare on his face, her mouth gasping “baby, baby” until he had to turn his face away, into the pillow, the taste of blood in his mouth from his bitten lip.

And through it all, the warm smell of sandalwood and spice.

He was muzzy, half-asleep, content with her skin against his and her head on his chest when a flicker at the doorway caught his attention and—

Rico.

Rico with one hand going white on the doorknob, still as death, the other clenched into a fist with something in it. His left thumb twitched, working the spinning loop of his fidget-ring frantically. His eyes – his eyes were—

Mateo sat up all at once, mouth dry, tongue clumsy. The air was blood-hot against his bare skin when the sheets fell away.

“Fly,” he said, drunk and stupid. He sounded surprised. “Fly, I uh—”

He stumbled, tripped, babbled. The girl. The girl didn’t say anything at all. He turned to her, hoping maybe—

It hit him, then.

Fox face. Red hair. Dark eyes. A crooked kind of smirk.

“Hey, Fly,” purred Rio.

Mateo shut his mouth, feeling like he’d missed a step on the way down the stairs. The gravity of the situation seeped into his pickled brain. His stomach iced over and his lungs locked up.

“Rico,” he heard himself say. Rico still hadn’t moved. He was always moving – tapping his foot, pacing, spinning his fidget ring – but now he was still, all but his wild eyes.

“Get out,” said Rico.

“Rico,” Mateo pleaded.

He moved at last, and something hit Mateo in the face. Surprised, he sucked in a breath, and a the stink of what he’d done – smoke-liquor-sweat-perfume – washed over him. It was his shirt. He must have dropped it, before.

He was vaguely aware of Rio sliding out of bed – out of Rico’s bed, fuck – and gathering her clothes, unhurried and unbothered and smooth.

Numbly, Mateo put on his shirt. He found his jeans, and he shoes and – and he was walking out with Rio, past a dumbfounded Diego and a glaring Dett in the doorway. He walked away and expected to cry. He even wiped at his dry eyes, like muscle-memory. But no tears came.

With each step, a hole ripped open a little wider behind his ribs, black and sucking as a chest-wound. He breathed in shallow little sips, expecting pain.

Diego was the one to shut the door behind them. The slam of the deadbolt locking felt – horrifically final.

Mostly dressed in the pre-dawn gloom, Mateo couldn’t help but look around. His head felt foggy, sluggish, and his throat thick. The beginnings of a hangover, probably.

“What do I do now?” he wondered, and the words were flat.

Rio touched his arm, and he didn’t flinch away.

“We get breakfast,” she told him.

So they did.

#happy au #pdcoa #flyvega #my beloved crybaby #fly rico #mateo vega #look i know it's angsty but it's not the FIRST bit og the happy au #it's just the only bit that wouldn't leave me alone #the set up is Mateo is a baby gay and Fly is his mentor/Elder Gay and it's Complicated #the cat is a gay bar i don't make the rules ok #c writes

[softdadcarlos]

Reunion: Alternative Route

Masterlist

Fandom: Resident Evil/Biohazard

Pairing: Jill/Carlos

AU: Family Life AU AU (its like an au for an au if that makes sense?)

Summary: When Chris calls Carlos with a lead, Carlos can’t just sit around and wait.

I KNOW I’M MEANT TO BE DOING UNI WORK BUT AFTER I HAD THIS IDEA I JUST HAD TO WRITE IT DOWN! (Also a lot of the dialogue is taken from a script for Resi 5 that I found 👀)

Carlos’ phone rang as he finished drying Eliza’s hair after her bath, preparing to put her to bed. He sighed, putting down the towel and picking up his phone to see who it was. It was Chris. But he was on a mission in Africa, why was he calling now?

“Hello?”

“Carlos!” Chris exclaimed making Carlos flinch as he left his daughter’s room, “We found evidence that Jill is still alive. The CEO of Tricell, Excella, may have her-”

“Where exactly are you? I’ll get there as soon as possible.”

Plans were already forming in his head. No offence to Chris but after years of waiting, he couldn’t be patient any longer.

“What about Eliza? What if something happens to you?”

“Nothing will happen to me. If things get too dicey I’ll bail, okay?”

The was a beat of silence. “We’re in Kijuju on our way to the old ruins of the Ndipaya kingdom. You better make that a promise. I can’t have both of Eliza’s parents on my conscious.”

Carlos hung up. He had all the information he needed, he just needed to get there. He made a quick call to Claire asking if she’d be okay to take Eliza for a couple of days with many apologizes thrown in. He knew that it would probably be a juggle to take care of a five-year-old and a toddler. Thankfully she agreed, correctly guessing it was Jill related.

He re-entered Eliza’s room and packed an overnight bag with plenty of clothes and supplies before crouching down and stroking her cheek, “I know this is sudden but you’re going to be sleeping over with Auntie Claire for a little while. Uncle Chris needs my help on an important mission.”

Her bottom lip wobbled as tears began to form in her eyes, “But what if you get captured like Mama?”

He pulled her into a hug, “Everything will be okay sweetie. Papa will be very careful.”

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A couple hours later and he was on a private jet heading to a designated meetup point with Chris and Sheva. He had managed to pull a few strings with the B.S.A.A with the help of Chris which got him the transport and gear he needed. It felt strange to be holding an assault rifle after eleven years of relative peace. God he hoped he wasn’t rusty.

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Chris, Sheva and Carlos pursued Excella into the underground palace, weapons drawn as she finally came to a halt.

“Excella Gionne! Stop right there!” Sheva ordered.

Excella began to applaud mockingly, “Bravo!”

Something felt off, Carlos couldn’t put his finger on it. Almost like they were being lured in.

“Damn it, where is Jill?!” Chris demanded, gun aimed right at her.

Excella scoffed, “Jill? Maybe I'll tell you, maybe I won't.”

She was playing with them, like a cat does with it’s prey. Part of Carlos was telling him to get out of there but this woman knew Jill’s location. He couldn’t let her get away.

Suddenly the hooded figure that Chris and Sheva had encountered before somersaulted over Excella, quickly disarming the trio with a series of kicks and punches. So it was a trap. Chris quickly recovered and fired a shot that barely missed the figure’s head, hitting their mask instead, removing it. Chris and Sheva opened fire on the figure as it retreated, managing to dodge the bullets with inhumanly fast reflexes. Landing next to Excella, they adjusted their cloak, making sure it was still covering them.

“Stop playing around, we want some answers!” Chris ordered, patience worn thin.

“You haven't changed,” came a voice that Carlos didn’t recognise.

It was a man in all black with slicked back blonde hair and sunglasses.

“Wesker! You are alive!”

Carlos looked to Chris, “This is Wesker?” He looked back to the man, “What have you done with Jill?”

Wesker ignored Carlos as he descended the stairs, “We last met at the...Spencer Estate, wasn't it? Well, isn't this one big family reunion?” He strolled behind the hooded figure, “I would expect you to be happier to see us.”

Oh no. Please no.

“Us?” Chris asked.

Wesker smirked.

“So slow to catch on,” he said as he pulled back the figure’s hood.

There she was. Her hair was blonde now and she was paler but her face was still the same. It was Jill. Carlos was torn between relief and heartbreak. Relief because he was right all along, she was alive. But heartbroken because, somehow, Wesker had done something to her to make her join him, make her their enemy. Carlos lowered his gun. Silently processing everything that was happening.

“Jill...Jill! It's me, Chris!”

Sheva looked to her teammates, “What? Are you sure that's her?”

Carlos swallowed and nodded, “That’s her alright. There’s nobody else like her.”

“The one and only.” Wesker said with almost sickening glee.

Jill suddenly whipped off her cloak, revealing herself to be in a skin-tight battle suit. If this had been any other day, in any other circumstance and she hadn’t been missing for three years, Carlos might have appreciated how she looked in it. But quite frankly he was too distracted by her going on the attack again. Sheva went to open fire on her but Carlos grabbed her gun by the barrel and lowered it.

“Hold your fire! That’s my wife you’re shooting at!”

“She’s attacking us! She’s the enemy.”

“We don’t know what he did to her. There’s still a chance she can be saved and I refuse to go home with a coffin.”

Wesker laughed as he began to approach, “Now let's finish this once and for all. Although I think the odds are a tad unfair, three on two. Right, Jill?”

Jill didn’t respond.

Carlos looked to Chris, “You and Sheva take on Wesker. I’ll deal with Jill.”

“Seven minutes. Seven minutes is all I can spare to play with you.” Wesker teased, beckoning them to come at him.

A fight broke out, bullets flying as Sheva and Chris opened fire on the man who easily dodged them with his speed alone. Carlos took cover as Jill fired dual pistols at him. Shit. This wasn’t going to be easy. He didn’t want to hurt her, that was the last thing he wanted to do.

“Jill it’s me! It’s Carlos! You know, the man who saved your fine ass back in RC?! Your husband?! Father of your daughter?! Is this ringing any bells?!” He called out from behind the pillar.

It was useless, all he could do was run and hide while he waited for the other two to deal with Wesker. At least he was keeping her distracted. Hopefully, she’d run out of bullets soon.

All too soon things turned further south.

“Poor performance indeed.” He heard Wesker say from his hiding place, not daring to peak over lest his wife get a headshot. “Your future hinges upon this fight.”

He heard Chris grunt and make impact with something solid that crumbled.

“We'll never win like this. Time to change tactics.” Chris grunted.

“We should hide!” Sheva agreed.

“Way ahead of you,” Carlos shouted back.

He followed after them when they ran past him and down into what appeared to be a labyrinth. They found a sarcophagus which Sheva and Chris heaved open. It had a… magnum inside?

“Why the fuck is there a gun in an ancient sarcophagus? Who sees one of these things and goes ‘This is a good place to put my weapons’?”

Wesker interrupted before anyone could answer Carlos.

“There's no point in hiding. You can't hide forever!”

Sheva looked to the two men, “Same plan as before?” They nodded. “You have to attack before he sees you!”

“You're merely postponing the inevitable!” Wesker goaded.

The team split up, Sheva and Chris performing several hit and run attacks that seemed to be ineffective. Carlos drew Jill’s fire yet again. He refused to return it, not wanting to risk seriously injuring her.

“Self-righteous fools! Your seven minutes are up!”

Wesker left the labyrinth, heading to a balcony while the team made their way out.

“I expected more of a challenge after all this time, Chris. How disappointing.”

His PDA rang and he simply walked away. The team gave chase storming up the stairs with weapons raised. Carlos had a full clip that he’d happily unload into the bastard should the opportunity present itself.

“Wesker, stop!” Chris ordered.

Wesker put away his phone and smirked as Jill rounded the corner, quickly taking down Sheva and Chris with a series of kicks, strikes and hits before putting Carlos in a grapple hold on the floor. Wesker made one more remark before going to leave which Carlos was too distracted to hear as Jill twisted, sending pain shooting through his arm.

“Jill, it’s me. You know me. You married me for crying out loud. Please, snap out of it. For Eliza.”

Suddenly Jill’s face became less blank. She blinked a couple of time, her brows furrowing.

“E..li..za.”

She dropped Carlos’ arm, stumbling back and shaking her head.

“Jill!”

“Remarkable! Still resisting at such an advanced stage.” Wesker commended, apparently not having left. He pulled out his PDA and hit a button which caused Jill to writhe and cry out in pain. “Commendable, yet futile! No more time for games. I've got work to do. Have fun watching Jill suffer.”

“Wait-” Chris shouted.

“What did you do to her?!” Carlos interrupted, seeing red.

Wesker merely stepped into an elevator as Carlos charged towards him, the doors slamming shut in his face. He let out a shout and punched the door. Jill’s cries of agony had him rushing back to her, falling to his knees beside her as he tried to assess the situation, figure out what was happening as she thrashed about. At seemingly the peak of her pain, she tore open her suit revealing an odd red contraption on her chest. Carlos sucked in a breath.

“Dios mio.”

“What's that on her chest?” Sheva asked.

“We have to get it off her,” said Chris.

But then Jill went silent, her face determined and not in a good way. Carlos was quick to retreat back as Jill took on a pose that reminded him of a predator about to strike its prey.

“If we can remove that device on her chest, she might return to normal!” Sheva suggested.

“Sounds good to me,” Carlos said, setting his rifle down.

“Then that’s the plan,” Chris affirmed.

The group darted to take cover, Carlos trying to make his way closer and closer.

“Jill! What are you doing! Stop this! Jill! Answer me!” Chris called distracting her.

She began to moan in pain again and Carlos took that opportunity to grab and restrain her. Sheva shot the device that was on her chest then help Carlos by straddling Jill’s legs. Carlos grabbed the device on her chest and tried to yank it off to no avail as she went silent again and managed to throw the two off of her. They dodged her counter attack and again took cover.

“It's me, Chris! Don't you recognize me?”

Again she began to moan in pain and again Sheva and Carlos restrained her.

“Come on Jill, work with me here. Fight it. I know you can,” Carlos pleaded as he grasped the device, fearing the worst when she broke his hold and grasped his wrist. But instead on pulling his wrist away, it felt like she was helping him to pull that thing out of her. And boy was it an ugly thing. Carlos felt his blood run cold as the sparking device lifted from her skin to reveal several long tubes attached to it burrowed into her chest. But as soon as she was freed from them he tossed it aside, Chris firing several shots at the thing. Sheva got off Jill’s legs so that Carlos could shift the panting woman to cradle her against his chest.

“It’s okay Jill. You’ll be okay. I’ve got you. I’ve always got you.”

“...I'm so sorry…”

“Shhh. It’s fine. No one was too badly hurt.” He grinned down at her.

Jill turned in his arms, “You're Sheva, right?”

“Yes.”

“I couldn't control my actions, oh, but God I was still aware. Chris, Sheva, Carlos please forgive me.”

Carlos held her closer, he couldn’t begin to imagine what that must have felt like. To not be in control of her own body. He wasn’t aware of everything that happened, honestly Chris hadn’t told him much on his arrival, there was no time to. He looked to his teammates.

“You two go on ahead. I’ve got her, you just make sure that bastard pays for what he did.”

The duo nodded and headed off. Carlos manoeuvred Jill onto his back, reminding him of when he found her infected in Raccoon City, “Come on supermum, our little girl is waiting for us back home.”

He might not have been able to see her face but he could tell that she was crying from how her body quaked against his and her tears soaked his shirt.

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Jill sat on the sofa in their living room, thumbing through a book Carlos gave her as she waited for him to come back with Eliza. It documented everything thing she had missed over the last three years. Eliza’s growth, her milestones, the holidays and even her mischievous antics. She wondered how much she had changed. God, she had missed her so much. She had so much lost time to make up for. She wiped away her tears as she heard the door handle rattle.

“Close your eyes, I’ve got a special surprise for you.” Came Carlos’ muffled singsong voice.

The door swung open and Jill covered her mouth to silence her gasp. She watched as Carlos sent her a wink and slowly guided their daughter into the living room. Silently, she moved from the sofa on to her knees on the floor, levelling herself with Eliza as she got closer.

“Right you can open them now.”

To say Jill was shocked by the ecstatic squeal Eliza let out would be an understatement, “Mama!” The child wasted no time in launching herself at her mother, tiny arms wrapping as tightly as possible.

Jill returned the embrace, nuzzling her shoulder, trying and failing to stop herself from crying.

“You’ve grown so much. My baby girl is so grown up now.”

“It’s okay Mama, Papa made lots of videos for you.”

As if that was his cue, Carlos joined Jill on the floor and wrapped his arms around his two girls, placing a kiss on the top of Jill’s head.

“Welcome home supermum.”

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 A/N: I love hearing from you guys! Please tell me what parts you liked!

Requests are temporarily closed :) I'm also on twitter @mxbelmounte.

#carlos x jill #jill x carlos #valeveira #resident evil #carlos oliveira #jill valentine #boop