#Also be real anytime they start whining and get any resistence they go for what? Winc*st shipper or accusations

[maipareshaan]

Again i am sorry i acknowledge this is petty and i don't actually support but lol i love when heller proshippers get harrassed, i hope they get hate, i hope they get into a blocklist and i hope someone makes a anonhateblog for them again shsnsbbsbsvzgzdbb

[timelesslords]

2) “Is there a reason you’re blushing like that?” + 7) “Please just kiss me already.” for sentence starters if you don't mind! <3

send me a sentence starter and I’ll fill it for Percabeth 

“Hurry up!” Annabeth called, tapping on heeled foot on the ground impatiently as she stared at the clock above the mantle, whose fingers were inching dangerously close to the time they were meant to arrive at her work party. It was a stupid, formal affair, one that Annabeth didn’t really care much for and that was bothersome because she had to dress up for it. 

She’d let Percy skip it the last couple of years, if only because she knew how much he hated getting dressed up. Annabeth herself wasn’t all that comfortable in her long red dress and done up hair, but she could manage one night out of the year. This time though, she was tired of suffering through the stuffy party alone, and she’d asked him to come along. Now that he might make her late though, she was beginning to regret that choice.

“Sorry, I’m coming,” Percy called, and she could hear his footfalls on the upper floor 

Any concerns about not being on time vanished from Annabeth’s mind as Percy descended down the staircase. 

Really, it was just unfair. The way his suit hugged his broad shoulders like a glove, the way his turquoise tie brought out the subtle blue shades in his green eyes, how his hair-- which he probably hadn't even bothered to fix beyond running his fingers through it a few times-- fell into place perfectly, looking windswept and careless and adding just a touch of casualness that only served to enhance the entire look. 

Suddenly Annabeth didn’t really care about the party anymore. Not that she really had before, beyond a vague feeling of dread, but still. She could have stared at him the rest of the evening and well into the night. She might've, if his face hadn't cracked into a familiar grin, nearly breaking the supermodel illusion altogether. Annabeth could already feel her cheeks flushing though, and she could tell he noticed from his widening grin, and his next words. 

“Is there a reason you’re blushing like that?” Percy asked, innocently. He almost pulled it off too, except for the fact that he was staring at her just as much as she was staring at him. Annabeth knew he was equally affected, even if he was a touch better at hiding it.

“You think you’re real funny, don’t you,” Annabeth said, unable to resist closing the gap between them, sliding her arms around his neck. In her heels she was nearly his height, and she had to say she was enjoying the view from this new angle. 

"I'm known for my humor," he said, wrapping his arms around her waist; a natural, practiced gesture. He was still smiling, though it had mellowed from a grin to something softer. 

"Thanks for getting dressed up for me," Annabeth said. As good as he looked, Annabeth was already starting to see small signs of his discomfort: a nearly imperceptible roll of his shoulders against the suit jacket, the slight twitch of his fingers. 

"Anytime," Percy said, the side of his mouth turning up in a lopsided smile, "We'd better get going though, or we're going to be late."

"Since when do you pay attention to whether or not you're going to be late?" Annabeth teased. 

"Since this thing is very important to you and I set five alarms for it," Percy said, "One of which might go off in the car. I kind of lost track of how many of them have gone off already." 

"That's very sweet of you," Annabeth said, truthfully, "Maybe we should skip it though."

"You want to skip your very fancy very important party because...?" Percy asked, raising one stupidly attractive brow. 

"Mm, I don't know. I don't think I want to share," Annabeth said, lacing her fingers just a bit tighter around his neck. 

"Share what?" he asked, feigning innocence and doing it badly. It took a lot of work for Annabeth to suppress the grin that was inching its way onto her face. 

"Looking at you. I think it should be just for me," she said, as seriously as she could manage, which, in all honesty, was not that serious at all. He pretended it was though, which was nice of him. 

"Oh really?" he said, smirking.

"Really." 

"I think everyone's going to be jealous looking at you, actually," he said. Annabeth had a feeling he believed every word of what he was saying, but he was also biased beyond belief. Whether or not Annabeth was also biased was deeply irrelevant. 

"They see me everyday," Annabeth said, dismissively, "You're fresh meat." 

"Is that all I am to you? A hunk of meat?" he asked, faux offense written all over his face. Annabeth pretended to consider her answer very seriously. 

"Well, at this moment specifically--"

"Please just kiss me already," Percy laughed. Annabeth was only too happy to oblige. They might've actually have gotten distracted enough to genuinely be late if Percy's final phone alarm hadn't rudely interrupted them only a few seconds in. 

Percy pulled back, removing one arm from her waist to pull out his phone and shut off the incessant beeping.

"Now we really have to go. That was my emergency-we-should-have-been-in-the-car-five-minutes-ago alarm." 

"You're a tease," Annabeth whined. Percy actually laughed at that, which was frankly kind of fair. 

"You're the one who wrangled me into this monkey suit in the first place," he said, making no move towards the door. 

Annabeth was truly, seriously considering skipping the party altogether just to wrangle him out of it, but unfortunately her better judgement won over.

"Well, we wouldn't want it to go to waste, would we," Annabeth sighed. She unraveled her arms from around his neck, her hand finding his instead. He took it easily, interlocking their fingers together.

"I don't know if it would be a waste," Percy said, grinning, "I'm really enjoying the way you're staring at me right now."

"Shut up."

"Never."

[anxiouslyfred]

Fighting Styles

for @dukexietyweek‘s day 2 prompt of Swapping

Summary: Virgil knows how to fight as Thomas’s primary defensive side, but after a comment about Roman when they’d been sparring he decides to try and improve and be more unpredictable with the least predictable side around.

Warnings: fighting, sparring, a couple innuendos

/\/\

Out of all the sides Thomas had, Virgil was the primary defence system. He was the one on the look out for alerts and always ready to get Thomas out of there whether that was by escaping or fighting and that meant he had to know how to fight. He learnt from copying movies and paying extra attention to any fight scenes Thomas did on stage. Stage fighting would never be real, but it included at least some things that could be useful in a fight. Logan had even provided Virgil with multiple martial arts books when he fully understood the extent that he had to protect Thomas.

Roman always claimed to be a fighter, a Knight even, but for all his extravagant attempts in the imagination Virgil could never see any form or ability in the way he fought. Honestly he was convinced that Roman only knew how to fight in formal duels and made up everything else when going on quests. When he'd first been accepted he had hoped to be able to spar with Roman in real contact fights but quickly dropped the suggestion after getting taken on a quest.

“Come on, I know you can fight. There were all those books in your room last time I visited. Don't you want to get some practical experience in?” Roman was whining. Honestly if he'd known leaving the books visible on his shelf would lead to this Virgil would have buried them in the garden anytime he wasn't reading them.

He couldn't go all in for the battle. He knew too many different techniques and forms of hand to hand, aside from simply not wanting to do anything which might harm Roman. Instead for the entire afternoon, Virgil watched, played the defensive as long as he could before laying Roman out with a few repeated moves. It was learning how to fight for fun almost, with nothing at stake given Roman wasn't likely to try and harm him either.

Eventually though Roman sighed, moving away instead of asking another go. “You're too predictable in how you fight, Virge. Where's the black knight going to go if someone actually tries to attack us?” He pronounced, dusting off his outfit and looking around the hall he'd created for their fight.

“Are you needing criticism in return because I thought we're trying to be nice to the ego for a while?” Virgil snarked back, raising an eyebrow when a frown was shot at him. “Guess I'll go find Remus then. If anyone knows how to be unpredictable, it's that trash monster.”

He didn't give Roman a chance to protest that statement, sinking out immediately. It was already pretty clear that Roman would try to follow up his comment about being predictable with an offer to teach Virgil formal duelling but The Duke knew that just as well as any Prince, and would probably offer without any farce day of fighting beforehand.

“Arm yourself! I'm stealing your ability to fight!” The cry came as soon as Virgil appeared in the main living space, and he immediately ducked to the floor and rolled out of the way.

“How about you teach me yours and I'll teach you mine instead?” Virgil throws the innuendo out, hoping if nothing else the double meaning would distract Remus from the attack. It got his request out too which was useful.

Remus had already reared around, morning star above his head for another swipe. “Like Uncle Iroh? Multiple pieces mixed together to make us stronger? I got the weapons collection to prove that already.”

“Don't need your ideas today, just a fighting style to mimic. I've got my knives. You're already armed so lets focus on that!” Virgil insisted, not fighting in when he felt Remus dropping them both into the imagination. It was probably less likely to cause damage or others to get hurt if they weren't in the main area anyway.

Fighting Remus was completely different to Roman. The Prince had the forms of a knight, and was very quick with the moves, he had a sharp control that made following the movements easily and a rhythm that even if you couldn't predict completely what came next, the beat it would happen on was clear. Remus only had occasional moves the a knight might use, and none of it could be related to music or patterns at all. He was wild flung movements, already pulling some other limb into the fray and of course that included ones which rightfully shouldn't exist.

It was perfect to fight against when concerned over what dangers or attacks could happen in the real world and Virgil threw himself into it, only resisting from copying some of the moves so they could learn from each other.

“Can't decide if I want to give up and let you beat me into the ground or if I should start doing this!” Remus quipped, backing off only for a second as he changed his morning star out for knives similar to Virgil's.

A thrilled smirk found its way onto Virgil's lips. “Only if you don't mind me doing this.” He approved, letting an extra arm come out to grab at Remus's first swipe starting the fight again.

It wasn't quite sparring but fighting didn't fit when there was no malice or actual wish to hurt between them, but it was the best test for Virgil's skills and ability to adapt that he'd faced for a while. It was even better than the times that the imagination was left wild, without any intentional influence from either Creativity.

They were fighting with all of their skills but also copying things each other did later on in the fight.

“Tell me we're doing this again, or let me worship at your feet cause my knees refuse to stand from the work over you just gave me.” Remus cackled, collapsed on the floor only when neither of them had the energy left to carry on fighting.

“How about tomorrow you bring the formal duelling out and slowly introduce the dirty fighting while I start out with just my martial arts and no weapon?” Virgil suggested.

It felt like the beginning of something far bigger than a fighting technique swap, and Virgil couldn't wait for the next time Roman tried to suggest they spar. He was already consistently winning but this way the spars would be over before they began and he had an actual partner to fight beside after them.

[tscaboverse]

Rules for this verse

Background: Will was hiding that he was an omega and was using suppressant potions, which could severely damage his health the way he was using them. Charlotte and Henry have argued with him before about wanting to officially adopt/claim him, but given everything that has come to light, Will isn’t allowed to say no, given how bad his judgement has been shown to be. Now with a prequel.

Charlotte pulled a resisting Will towards her and growled. “Don’t even think about arguing with me right now William Herondale. You’re in enough trouble as it is.” She finally got him to sit beside her and got a secure grip. “This is for your own good, and since you clearly have no regard for yourself or your safety, you don’t get to protest.” Will opened his mouth, most likely to start arguing again, but she cut it off with an even louder growl than before, and a firm grip around his neck, which he finally showed to her.

“Now, this may hurt a bit, but it should also warn anyone who comes near you that you already have an alpha, and a parent, and that if they try anything I’m well within my rights to defend you by any means necessary.” With that warning, Charlotte leant over and bit his neck, right below his ear, to claim Will as her pup. She held firm for a minute before releasing his neck and motioned Henry over so that he could claim Will as well, with a bite that overlapped with hers.

After Henry had finished with his claiming bite, Charlotte turned Will towards her, anxious to make sure that he was alright, and was pleasantly surprised when he dove into her arms and hugged her, whining all the while.

Charlotte had only ever heard that sound on the street before, never directed to her. She hugged Will back, and turned his neck towards her again so that she could lick over the claim marks, to make sure that they would heal properly. She felt Henry settle down on the other side of Will, and touch her hands where they were holding onto Will. She gently tugged his hands so that they, and his arms, would reach around Will and herself partially, in a hug, one that would keep Will firmly between them, right where Charlotte wanted him right now.

“There we go Will, it’s all over now.” Charlotte murmured soothingly to the distraught omega. “You’ll never be alone again. You have us, and we are so very glad to have you as our child Will. You’ll be safe here, and don’t have to worry about pretending anymore. You can be the kind, sweet, boy that I know you are, and not out every night getting into senseless fights where you could get hurt.” She nuzzled him and could feel Henry doing the same opposite of her. Will’s grip on her grew even tighter as his whining began to stop. “Shhh. There you are Will. We have you. Everything’s fine.” She cooed as she began to rock him back and forth in between her and Henry.

She heard Henry chuckle. “And if anything isn’t, all you have to do is tell Lottie and she’ll likely destroy whatever is causing the problem, as protective as she is at the moment.”

“He’s our child Henry, I’m entitled to protect him however I want to, especially given how vulnerable he is right now.” She kissed Will’s head, and went to start smoothing his curls out. “Don’t worry Will, you’ll be perfectly safe here. No one in the Institute would do anything to hurt you. Although,” she added on, “you and Jem are going to be much more supervised when you’re together from now on.” Will started whining again. “None of that now.” She nipped him gently. “I know how the two of you look at each other and there will be nothing happening between the two of you until you are both older, am I clear? Especially given your situation right now. You can spend all the time you’d like with Gabriel though, when you aren’t with one of us.”

Will snorted at that. “Don’t like him.” He mumbled into Charlotte’s dress. “He ruined everything. And now you’re going to get hurt because of him.” He started keening and tried to move himself out of Charlotte and Henry’s arms, but they just held on tighter so that he would stay put. Charlotte growled, which startled Will enough to make him stop moving long enough to get him into a better position for Charlotte and Henry to hold him tighter, and get him covered in their scents.

“If this is about that curse, Magnus has already told you, repeatedly, if I understood him correctly, that it isn’t real. Which I can confirm, as can Henry, because if it were, we would have been dead shortly after you arrived.” Will started wriggling around again. “Now settle down.” Charlotte ordered, making sure to inject as much power into it as she could. He went still, just sitting there between her and Henry, whimpering now.

“There you go. Just calm down, and let yourself be taken care of for a change. You aren’t alone anymore Will, and you will have whatever you need to be healthy and happy, even if you don’t remember what that’s like right now. And from what Gabriel and Henry tell me, right now, that is a great deal of physical contact, and scent marking, so that you will feel safe again, and calmer. You’ll never have to ask for it Will, but until you can remember how to, we’ll take care of making sure that you always feel safe for you.”

Will finally reached out again, hesitantly at first, but the he wrapped his arms around Charlotte again and burrowed himself into her loving grasp. Charlotte began rocking him again, humming a bit as she did so, while Henry provided a grounding force for herself and Will to move into, his comforting scent making her happy. Will finally fell asleep between them after a half hour of this, and when Charlotte looked at him sleeping in their arms, she was struck by how young he looked right then, and innocent, even though she knew what a handful he could be. She looked up to catch Henry’s eyes, who was also smiling down at Will, and at her, she realized. She leaned up to kiss him, accidentally shifting Will a bit, who let out a quiet noise of protest before curling into them again.

“So this is parenthood I believe Lottie. How are you feeling now that Will is ours officially?” Henry questioned with a curious look on his faces.

“Mmm. More settled, maybe? As if everything is where it ought to be now. I suppose that I might have known that something was off, even if I didn’t quite know what it was. Calmer, perhaps? Now that Will carries our scent I feel as though he’ll be safer in a way that he wasn’t before, especially in light of him coming off the suppressant potion. Not that he’s going to be allowed out of the Institute at all for the next few months at least, and never by himself anytime after that. “She added as an aside, with a frown on her face at the thought of Will being out by himself. “I’m happy that we’ll be able to keep him out of trouble now though. No more fights and gambling, or pretending to. He can stay here, at home, where we can keep him safe from anyone who would want to hurt him. And help him heal from what he’s been doing to himself.”

“I couldn’t agree more, however I’m not entirely sure how he’ll take it. Will has always been very independent. Should we take him back to bed now that he’s asleep?”

“No. I want him here, with us. I don’t want him out of my sight, because Angel only knows what he might get up to then. Besides, this way he gets the contact he needs to calm down, and begin settling into his skin again, and we can get him covered in our scents, that way it’s very clear that he has parents now, and that he is claimed. You said that something like this would help him pick up our scents faster as well, yes?”

“It will, yes. I was just unsure as to whether you might be comfortable with having him sleep between us.”

“I didn’t think that I would be earlier, but now I can’t stand the idea of letting him leave my sight.” Charlotte mentioned this confusedly.

“That would be your instincts kicking in fully if I’m not mistaken, both as his alpha, and his mother. I feel it slightly as well, if not as strongly as you do.” Henry comforted her.

They chatted back and forth for a bit, as they moved Will around so that they could tuck him under the sheets and curl around him, with their arms over him, meeting together to ensure that he would stay between them throughout the rest of the afternoon and night.

[lihikainanea]

Would Tiger tell Bill if she had a vivid sex dream about a hot, although nameless & faceless man, and woke soaking wet? Would he punish her?

I had delicious thoughts about this last night, but I had to work all fucking night and all I wanted was to elaborate on this deliciousness but instead I had to pretend to pay attention on conference calls.

Alright so look, tiger is having a real good dream, alright? And Bill basically sleeps pasted to her, so if she starts to move or like, wriggle a lot, he always wakes up. And tiger is pretty vocal anyway, and apparently it’s still applicable even when she’s deadass asleep.

It’s her whine that wakes him up first--Bill knows that whine. He could pick it out of anywhere. And it’s her needy whine, the one she always lets go whenever he’s hittin’ it just right, and Bill has a real hair trigger for that whine. It just goes right to his groin. But this time it rouses him from his sleep, because it’s also followed by a few deep sighs. He peels his eyes open as tiger shifts, rubbing her legs together, biting down a bit harder on his thumb. In his foggy brain he thinks she woke him up for sex, which is like his favourite thing when she gets so needy for him that she wants it now--but it takes him a second to realize that she is still deadass asleep. And this is not the first time it’s happened, ironically usually it’s when tiger has been really stressed or has had a lot going on and they haven’t had sex in awhile because she’s just not in the mood--but her subconscious needs a release, needs those good endorphins, and she’ll often start to have some real good dreams if she’s a little pent up.

So she’s deadass asleep, and Bill just kind of takes a moment to enjoy the visual. She’s not moving too much, just pressing her legs together and moving her hips a tad, but it’s her beautiful whines and her sighs as she latches on a little tighter to his thumb. Last time he just let her find her release on her own, but Bill is a selfish bastard sometimes and he can’t resist (remember kids, they’ve agreed to this beforehand). So instead he just nibbles her earlobe a little, reaches his hand down between her legs--and god, she’s soaked. Wetter than a fucking lake. He rubs his hand against her, grinds his palm down onto her and he doesn’t even have the chance to push two fingers into her before she’s coming undone. Her eyes fly open as she gasps, curling in as it ripples through her, moaning and clutching at the sheets.

He keeps his hand there, not touching her but just cupping her gently as she catches her breath. He hums in her ear, pressing a gentle kiss there.

“Oh god,” she moans, “I had a dream that--”

“I know kid,” he interrupts, smiling into her neck, “Seemed like a good one.”

She nods, still taking deep breaths.

“It was,” she sighs, tickling her fingers up his forearm, “Thanks for the uh, help.”

“Anytime,” he says, “Want some water?”

“I’m good,” she arches her back to crack it, stretching out her legs with a deep groan.

“A cigarette?” he smirks, and she laughs. But he curls up more around her and she sinks into his embrace, and within seconds she’s out again.

But look, here’s the thing. The dream? it wasn’t about him. And when she wakes up the next day, she kind of feels a little guilty about it all.

And this, friends--this is a concept I want to explore more. At the end of the day, tiger likes being spanked. She enjoys it. It gives her relief in the form forgiveness or absolve and that makes her feel good, but it’s also just...man, it’s really pleasurable for her. And we’ve spoken a lot about the punishment aspect of it, but there’s kind of a need too for me to expand on the pleasure side. Tiger loves it. And sometimes if she’s in a good head space, she’ll ask him for it. Bill’s fine with it, because in those times it has nothing to do with punishment. Tiger just wants to be spanked because she enjoys it. And sometimes, she wants to be spanked because she wants to be small and float into that mindset.

And sometimes she maybe just wants to push a small button or two, just tease Bill a little bit, so that not only can she float into the mindset of being small for him--but she can also enjoy him being a little...dominant. She loves that side of him.

So lately, sometimes what she does is if she wants some lighter punishment--when she’s after more the spanking for pleasure than the forgiveness--she’ll kind of just find Bill somewhere in the house, and very slowly sink to her knees. Bill straight up nearly has a coronary every single time she does it, because she’s just so small and so good for him but he recognizes it as her way of asking for something that she wants, or letting him know how she wants it. And it just flares up every single slightly dominant trait that Bill has.

And that’s what she does the next day. Bill is in the kitchen getting dinner ready, and tiger just kind of walks in, looks at him sheepishly, and sinks to her knees a few feet away from him. Bill has to stop the groan from leaving his throat, but he does put the knife down and lean his palms on the countertop. He hopes it looks menacing, instead of like he’s desperately trying to control his own desire--which he is.

He gives it a minute, lets her just kneel there, before he walks over to her and crosses his arms, looming all tall and beautiful and shit over her.

“Out with it,” he commands. And he’s studying her, right, just to make sure. And she looks like she’s small for him, but she doesn’t look like she’s in a bad head space--she’s not torn up by something, she’s not crying, she doesn’t look upset. She just wants to be put in check, wants him to be a little mean, and instead of being bratty--this is just another way that she asks for that.

“The dream that I had last night,” she starts meekly, “It wasn’t about you.”

Bill stiffens. But still nothing in her demeanour is raising any alarm bells, but his vision is already starting to cloud with irrational jealousy.

“Who was it about, tiger?” he demands. She bites her lip, looks down at her lap. She doesn’t answer.

Bill just snaps his fingers in front of her face--he doesn’t even say anything--but her gaze shoots to his, and he clenches his jaw. He leans, bending to place his hands on his knees, with his face close to hers.

“Who was it about?” he growls. She goes to avoid his glare, but another harsh snap of his fingers and her eyes are on his again.

“The waiter from the restaurant the other day,” she mumbles, “I wasn’t attracted to him. But he just...somehow got into my dream.”

And listen, this is really not a big deal. Bill would never usually punish her for something like this, because we have zero control over our dreams. Plus he’s a jealous bean, yes, but it’s not like she said she had a dream about Alex or like...Landon. This was literally a dude that just poured her a great margarita and brought her extra bread rolls when she ate them all. Bill isn’t at all disturbed by this news, but he also recognizes that tiger is asking to be punished and he wants to give her that.

So he grits his teeth, leans in even closer.

“You were soaked, tiger,” he snarls, “You got that wet for another man?”

“I didn’t mean to,” she tries, “It just happened. But you were the one who made me come.”

“You were going to anyway,” he snaps, “All I did was help the process along, while you fantasized about some other guy.”

“No, I--”

But he weaves a hand into her hair, gentle at first, before balling it into a fist at the back of her head.

“You get wet for me, understand?” he asks. She nods.

“Say it.”

“You,” she murmurs, and Bill knows that look--her lips are parted, her eyes clouded with lust, “Only for you.”

His hand leaves her hair as he stands back up to his full height. He wags two fingers at her and she clambers to her feet, standing in front of him. He takes a step closer, cranes his neck so his lips are brushing hers.

“Are you wet for me now?” he purrs.

He tickles his fingertips gently down her stomach--her breathing is already picking up, a slight moan on the exhale.

“Let’s check, shall we?” he murmurs and he flattens his palm on her stomach, glides it past the waistband on her pants and into her panties. He runs a few fingers up her slit and her knees buckle, a groan escaping her lips.

“Mmm,” he hums, but then his face goes stern again, “You were wetter for him.”

And in an instant, his hand is gone and tiger whines loudly but he grabs her chin, forcing her eyes to his. She whimpers as he sucks his two fingers clean, tutting her mockingly.

“Sorry won’t cut it, kid. Looks like you didn’t learn your lesson,” he says harshly, “Go wait for me on the bed.”

He releases her chin, and he doesn’t miss the small smile on her face before she gets moving. He turns his back for a second, heading to turn off the stove and he can still feel her presence.

“I won’t ask again, tiger,” he warns from over his shoulder without even turning around, and sure enough he hears her feet patter quickly out the room.

[jinmukangwrites]

In case you didn’t get enough DC hcs already, one of my favorites is that Dick uses anything he can (birthday, Christmas, “I’m injured so be nice to me”) to get family members to “willingly” give him hugs.

Slight description of injury

-o-o-o-o-

Damian isn't going to fall for it. Not this time. Richard isn't above abusing the concept of injury to force hugs out of him. He's watched even his father crumble to Richard's whining about but it's Christmas or oof ouch my ribs hurt and only a hug can cure me!

Rediculous. Hugging a man with injured ribs would just make the injury hurt worse. But Todd still fell for it.

Todd.

Damian is not as weak as them. Especially now, trapped in a cellar with his eldest brother for three days now, hardly any hope of rescue. At least, any hope of rescue arriving on time. The kidnappers were thorough and smart, taking Damian and Richard when they were driving between Blüdhaven and Gotham on country roads instead of the highway due to a giant crash that happened earlier that morning. Damian suspects the crash was caused by the kidnappers themselves, but he has nothing to prove it. Yet.

They were run off the road into a field belonging to some poor farmer, right into the ditch where water would be carried from place to place to easily water crops. They hardly had a chance to fight back before they were dragged from the wreckage of their car, mostly because the abductors were quick. Partly because Richard somehow ended up with his whole arm wrapped in barbed wire from the fence that collapsed from the collision.

Blindfolds and cable ties were forced on them regardless of injury and soon with the prick of a needle, they both woke up here in the cellar without knowing how long they've been out nor where they were. Richard's arm was red and scabbing, and Damian felt sick to his stomach imagining the infection it must have. The only contact they've gotten from the kidnappers have been meals brought to them two times daily and one time they came in to take a picture of the two of them holding the day's newspaper yesterday. A ransom must be being made, but it's still been possibly over 72 hours and Richard is beginning to look awfully red and sweaty from fever.

Most kidnapping cases are hopeless after 24, even without injury.

And Damian knew, he knew sooner or later Richard will start whimpering like a buffoon to force a hug out of Damian, and he will not fall for it. He only gives Richard hugs when he deserves them, and he definitely doesn't deserve them right now. Not when they're both sitting and doing nothing; week, hungry, and thirsty, awaiting help from someone they do not know will actually come.

Richard sighs from besides Damian. But it's not a relaxed sigh. It's a forced sigh like Richard is trying to illude Damian to his real pain and weakness, but it's laced with tightness and an almost cleverly hidden groan. Damian looks over, trying to keep his chest from hurting just from the look of Richard, but it does anyway.

Richard looks so out of it. Anytime now he will turn and ask Damian for a hug. Or, what they can best accomplish ad a hug with both their hands restrained in front of them.

Any minute.

Richard looks at him and for a moment, Damian thinks this is it, but Richard simply smiles. "How ya doin', squirt?"

Damian curls his hands into fists. "Tt. I'm fine. It's you we should be worried about."

Come on, Grayson. Any time now...

"Oh, I'm good. I can go weeks like this. Not that I want to of course." Richard lets out a breathy laugh. "But we'll be rescued soon, just wait."

Silence stretches between the two of them.

Damian does his best to resist screaming in his mind. Just ask for a hug already! What is he waiting for? He's begged for physical affection because of a paper-cut before!

Minutes pass, and Damian sneaks a glare Richard's way, but his glare immediately fades into shock as Richard stares almost blankly at the ceiling, his head tilted back and his entire body looking like a marionette without strings.

And he realizes that he's been watching for the wrong thing, because as much as Richard is a hugger he is also the worst kind of martyr. He has a big brother complex and a hero's complex to coexist besides it. In situations like this, the last thing Richard would do is beg for something that could make his appear weaker.

He won't ask for a hug, because he's scared, and he doesn't want to show it.

"You're a fool," Damian hisses. Richard blinks, his eyes focusing just a bit and he turns to Damian with a questioning downturn to his lips.

Before Damian can reconsider his actions, he scoots closer to his eldest brother and leans against his good arm, resting his head against his shoulder. Richard goes stock still, a squawk leaving his lips, but Damian just closes his eyes and shakes his head, fighting off tears.

"A damn fool."

"Dami, what-?"

"Shut up. We will be okay. We always are."

Silence, and Damian can't read Richard's expressions from his position, nor with his eyes closed. But Richard unwinds slowly, the first relaxed breath Damian's heard in hours leaving his mouth.

Damian feels the weight of Richard's head slowly leaning down to rest on top of Damian's own. "Okay, little d." His voice sounds wet and heavy, like he too is fighting off tears. "Okay."

[crimsonbluemoon]

Working For Love: A TerrorMoo Story 13/17

It’s still Saturday and I am posting on time and I can’t get in trouble yay! Also I totally hinted this was gonna be a sad chapter but I got my chapters messed up so y’all spared for now. 

Enjoy!

Previous Part

Start from the beginning

Brock tried to be a good friend most days of his life. 

“Tyler should be naked in my bed by now.” 

Brock bit back a groan at Mini’s statement when he leaned on the front counter, praying that Brian would be done with the closing of the gym sooner rather than later. The trio were meeting Tyler, Marcel, and Scotty for drinks, a meeting Craig called ‘necessary’ due to his lack of improvement with Tyler. Brock had only heard about the plans an hour prior, surprised to see Craig already waiting at the gym when he arrived at their meeting point. 

It was confusing to Brock to see Tyler put up such a fight against his obvious feelings for Mini, though it seemed to be an odd trend for Brian’s side of their friend group. Evan and Jonathan couldn’t get out of their own disastrous ways, Tyler threatened Craig with physical violence anytime he felt anything close to romantic development, and Luke would rather beat up anyone who looked at Ryan in a funny way than actually do something about the growing feelings between them. Nogla didn’t seem to know what love even was, and Anthony claimed he too invested in watching all his friend’s miserable attempts at love to try for himself. The only one who had a semblance of emotional intelligence was Scotty, who only needed a few weeks to pick up on Marcel’s flirting and ask him out. But besides the youngest of the group, the others were simply hopeless. 

He conveniently ignored his own glass house. 

“Do you think maybe it’s stuff like that which makes him pull away?” Brock asked, Mini’s lack of understanding obvious in his eye blink. 

“Why would that make him run? I’m amazing in bed. Ingrid even taught me how to put my foot behind my head during-”

“Do not finish that statement.” Brock snapped out, already feeling embarrassment rushing up his neck. The woman was in her seventies! Why was she still so flexible? And how had they even gotten onto that topic to begin with?

“Relax, her husband was fine with her sharing their sex life.” 

“And there goes my libido for the rest of my life.” Brian’s flat tone made Brock sigh in relief, turning to watch him saunter out from the back. He looked good in his new outfit, the long sleeves of the black v-neck emphasizing the definition of his arms. His waist was so tiny when looped with his leather belt, and Brock tried not let his stare last longer than appropriate when giving Brian a smile. 

“You ready to go?” 

“Yeah, just finished up.” Amused at his own thought, Brock saw Brian send Craig a teasing look before he continued. “We should take a shot every time Mini fails at hitting on Tyler tonight. Could get drunk in the first ten minutes.” 

“Laugh it up, but you don’t know what it’s like to have someone you like continuously shut you down.” Dramatic as always, Craig made a scene of dropping his arms onto the counter next to them flopping his head down with a sigh. “Unrequited love is too painful.”

“You know he likes you,” Brock replied, feeling a hint of sympathy for Craig. Trying to be supportive, he moved closer, patting his shoulder. “He lets you hang out here all the time even though you still haven’t technically signed up. You get yoga classes and smoothies for free. He doesn’t yell at you for bringing alcohol despite 100% knowing you do. And he even texts you on days you don’t end up here for a visit. Maybe Tyler’s just not into aggressive flirting.”

“But that’s all I know how to do besides get boozed up with vintage women.” The statement was too funny not to laugh at, though Brock tried for a sympathetic smile after Mini sent him a pout over his arm. 

“Then you just need to find someone who can teach you a few tricks,” Brock suggested. Mini hummed at the thought like he was tossing it around in his head, and Brock patiently waited for his friend to come to a conclusion on his suggestion. Instead, Craig glanced back at Brian. 

“You know Tyler the best; you got any pointers for me?”

“I do not get paid enough to get my boss laid.” A loud whine from Mini seemed to be enough of a bother for Brian to roll his eyes, his sigh showing his protest while pushing away from the counter. “Your lines are shit. They’re too pun-heavy and have no real connection to your relationship with Tyler. He sees them like lines you toss out to anyone, and he’s seen you flirt with almost every other hot guy in the gym.” 

“In my defense, Luke could crush my head with his thighs.” Mini’s dreamy sigh didn’t show he’d mind the scary thought, but Brock could see it was more an act than actual interest. Craig’s eyes always rounded and softened when talking about Tyler, hinting at his genuine attraction that’d developed with more time spent between them. Sure, Mini had found Tyler hot the second they’d met, but the joking flirting had begun to solidify into serious emotions with each week that passed. Tyler probably couldn’t tell the difference like Brock, who had years of getting to know Craig to spot the changes in tone and body language. To a newcomer, Mini might seem disingenuine with his attempts to court the gym owner. 

“You can’t say shit like that and then wonder why Tyler won’t take your offers seriously.” Brian rolled his eyes in a way that oddly was reminiscent of said owner, and Brock hid another smile at how they picked up each other’s behaviors. Neither man would admit it, bickering with each other any chance they could, but they were far closer than they let on. 

“So then show me what I’m supposed to do; give me a demonstration.” Craig got needy when he was focused on something. He didn’t mean to forget his manners or boss others around in their absence; that side just came out without permission. Brock was set on reminding him of his lack of etiquette before a hand set on his shoulder, leading him to turn back and face Brian. 

“Can I say something?” The intense connection between their eyes immediately caught Brock’s breath, making his stomach warm while he gave a hesitant nod. 

“Su-sure.” Brian flashed him a smile and stepped forward, the hand that had touched his shoulder slow in its movement of cupping the back of Brock’s neck. Heat burst from the skin-on-skin contact, and Brock’s mind melted from the temperature change. Brian seemed to pick up on the change, but he didn’t look bothered by it, his thumb gently fluttering over the fast pulse in Brock’s neck. 

“You’re really something special, Brocky. Everytime I get to see you smile or you give me a laugh, the world feels right. You’re creative and considerate of your friends and students alike, and I love listening to you talk about em’ the way you do. I’d listen to you talk about rocks for hours simply because your voice is so pretty. And when you gave me that playlist, I wanted to ask you this. I’ve wanted to ask this for months, really, but I had to wait. Not during a busy hour or right after you gave me something; I wanted it to be the right time. So now, I gotta ask; would you like to go on a date with me?” 

“Oh, wow.” Brock wasn’t sure the voice that pushed out through his tightened throat was his, everything in his mind hazy with emotion. Somewhere, logic was trying to remind him that Mini had asked for an example of an intimate version of flirting, and Brian was just...just playing the part. But his heart rejected the thought as soon as it entered his head, stomping it out with a reminder of how soft Brian’s touch was against his pulse. His hand, which had somehow found Brian’s shirt during the ‘charade’, tightened in the fabric, unsure if it was to push Brian away or pull him closer. Neither answer sounded right, so he tried to clear his throat a few times to buy him time. Even though his next sentence was aimed to the person behind him, Brock couldn’t pull his eyes away from Brian’s watchful stare.  “Yeah, Mini, if you did that with Tyler, I-I think he’d say yes.” 

“Yeah, maybe you should be focusing on yourself for the moment.” The whiny, bossy persona Craig had taken on earlier was gone in a flash, something plastic sliding across the front desk. Brock took his time looking away from Brian to the object, eyes widening when catching sight of the plastic wrap surrounding the bouquet of roses. A mixture of pinks and whites, the arrangement was gorgeous, leaving Brock stunned. 

“These are...these are mine?” He took the bouquet as he asked, fingers trailing against the petals of the flowers. He wanted to press his nose to them, but his attention moved back to Brian in his need for answers. Craig was shuffling away with a soft snicker, making Brock wonder if Mini was having any problems with Tyler at all. Had he and Brian planned this? Was that why Mini had somehow managed to get to the gym before him, despite living further away? The thought made Brock’s head spin, and he hesitantly pressed the roses to his chest while staring up at Brian. “Wait, were you- did you really mean to ask-”

“I’d really like to take you out to dinner,” Brian confessed in a quiet voice he’d never used with Brock before. “You don’t have to answer right now, I knew you’d need some time to think it over.”

“No!” His blurting of the protest was taken wrong. He could tell from Brian’s flinch and downcast gaze that he’d associated the word with the wrong sentence, so he rushed to explain. “No I don’t need time. I’d really like to answer your offer now with a yes.” 

“Yeah?” Brian’s hand was gentle when it squeezed the back of his neck, reminding Brock of the intimate embrace they’d stumbled into. Or maybe this had also been planned, since the position made Brock’s inhibition lower. It made him feel safe, like he could bury into Brian’s chest and not have to worry about the anxiety he’d have later over his date. Somehow he resisted the urge, but held his gift closer to compensate. 

“If the offer’s still there.”

“It always will be.” From the honest light that sparked in Brian’s eyes, Brock knew he wasn’t lying. 

“Then it’s a...a date.” He whispered, hiding his smile behind the edge of his bouquet. 

Maybe Brock would get a chance to prove he could be a good boyfriend, too.

This was a fav chapter of mine and I really enjoyed the flow and writing it. I hope you did, too. As always, like, reblog, and let me know what you think!

[xroamywoamyx]

Sleep My Sweet Prince (Spoilers)

Fandom: Sander Sides

Rating: K+

Genre: Hurt/Comfort and Fluff

Word Count:1785

Pairing: Creativisleep (Roman/Remy)

Roman Sat On The Floor Of His Bedroom Knees To His Chest Face Hidden As He Sobbed Quietly. He'd been there for hours. He knew that at this point he was just being dramatic, but dammit. It still hurt. If Jay had said literally anything else he would have been able to take it. Even if he had said Roman was foolish or unnecessary it would have been fine. He already knew these things, Logan made sure he knew it after all. Though with Logan it wasn't genuine and he knew that... and even if it was he couldn't say that he was wrong. He was stupid, he typically prided himself on it actually, most Prince's weren't known for their high intellect. Heroes use to be brave, heroic and charming without being overly bright. If they needed something done that required more then an average IQ then the lovable nerdy sidekick would do it. It wasn't until recently that his brand of heroics became out dated and... And Toxic... He'd only needed to be good looking and strong before, he stuck by a strong moral code...

A Moral Code He Doesn't Understand Anymore...

If Patton...

No.

If Thomas.... No longer Needed Him Or His Brand Of Heroics Anymore...

What Was The Point.

Thomas did have Remus after all and if Janus fit into Thomas' new found sense of morality.\

Who's to say his Brother wouldn't also...

After all Jay had said he couldn't tell them apart....well...those weren't his exact words but that's what he said.

If He and Remus were truly so similar then surely Remus could handle things on his own. He didn't really need to hang around, he contributed the least out of everyone else and he had a ready to go replacement. What was the point of him staying around?

He clearly wasn't wanted...

He continued to sob letting his thoughts run wild each one doing more damage to his fragile self worth. He continued to sob quietly for several more minutes feeling more and more alone as each minute passed.

After awhile there was a soft knock on his door "Go away'' Roman called out ''you're not wanted'' he said voice sounding muffled

The person behind the door scoffed in fake offense ''Well babe I know that can't be true because I'm always wanted'' The door creaked open slowly and as the light streamed in to reveal the hyper insomniac Remy Sanders. Roman glared at the caffeine fiend "I Am Not A Liar Remington!" he spat angrily still fuming in no mood for jokes ''Well someone's in a mood'' Remy said in a slightly softer tone taking a sip of his drink.

'' Rough day?'' Remy asked plopping down next Roman ''buzz off sleep demon'' Roman insulted weakly Remy lowered his sunglasses and quirked his eyebrow at Roman "oh really, you wanna do nicknames right now'' Roman hugged his knees a little closer ''sorry..''. Roman felt something heavy get placed on his shoulders ''Nah Princy you're fine'' Remy yawned wrapping his jacket around Roman before kicking back against Roman's bed '' just don't call me Remington again'' he picked up his drink and offered it to Roman ''want some''. Roma ignored him ''You know I'm not a coffee person Rem'' Remy cracks a smile "who said it was coffee" Roman looked at Remy with genuine surprise and curiosity. Remy laughed to him self smirking and taking another sip "Your loss, ma petite frère".

Roman loosened his grip on his knees continuing to sulk "What are you even doing here..." Remy signed " well it's not like I want to be here or anything" he twirls his cup sarcastically "and besides there's this prince who's keeping me up" he nudged Roman gently."I'm sorry..." Roman said quietly "don't" Remy looks at Roman '' don't do that Princy'' Roman laughs and lets his head fall back and rest against the bed ''I'm not much of a prince anymore" he smiled as silent tears fell down his face these not from anger or frustration at the days prior events but do to real pain and hurt. "Maybe..." Remy sighed ''or maybe, just maybe you're just tired'' Roman laughed ''you can't take credit for everything Rem'' Remy scoffed ''or maybe, I can'' he gently wraps his arm around Roman making him rest his head on his shoulder Roman yawns ''don't Remy...''.

He Took slight offense to that scoffing as he shoved Roman back off of him ''I wouldn't dare do such a thing  Princy, not even in your dreams'' Roman readjust himself removing Remy's jacket from his shoulders. ''I'm sorry'' he says trying to give it back to Remy ''Uh-uh'' Remy holds his hands up setting his drink down properly. ''Remy..'' Roman whined ''no!'' Remy fussed ''Remy I'm burning up'' he looked at him with a pouty face. Remy cupped Roman's face and placed a hand on his forehead ''Yeah but you're cooling down fast and you'll start to shiver, so put on the damn jacket'' Roman wiped his face and crossed his arms shaking Remy off before shaking away "Roman..'' Remy softened his voice. ''It's okay, you're okay Roman'' Remy grips Roman's shoulder making the distraught prince look at him. ''Listen to me Princy'' he places his hand on his chest applying the slightest amount of pressure to calm him down '' you have one of the kindest and bravest hearts of any person I know, please for the love all the shirtless hot male strippers out there, let me passive aggressively take care of you". A chill ran down Roman's back, Remy was right, his body temperature was already beginning to drop and he was getting cold. He tried to stop himself from reacting to the chill and not shiver but unfortunately failed...

Remy smacked his shoulder "I told you bitch, now put on the fucking jacket and let me run my hands through your beautiful hair while you do that feelings thing and tell me your problems" Roman laughed giving in and putting on Remy's jacket. It was actually really comfortable and calming then he had thought it would be. "Feelings things?" he quirked an eyebrow at Remy "that was such a Logan thing to say" he mentions as he carefully slumps himself sideways and lays down in Remy's lap. Remy takes off his sunglasses and glares at Roman playfully '' How very rude of you to imply I am anything like that nerd'' Roman yawned ''I dunno you guys are kinda similar'' Remy tugs his hair a little harshly in response. ''What are you doing here Remy'' Roman asked sounding pitiful, Remy returned to soothingly stroking Roman's hair gently '' I came to check on you'' ''I came to check on you...'' he sighed ''I was worried'' . ''You shouldn't of been'' Roman continued to sulk, Remy rolled his eyes ''oh get over yourself Roman'' Remy chose his words poorly, Roman turned away from him and onto his side in Remy's lap ''sorry...''. Remy sighed in slight frustration at his Royal fuck up ''No Roman that's not what I meant, I mean'' he pauses for a moment thinking hard about his words. ''Don't think you're the only one who, don't think...Dammit'' he ran hand through his hair '' let people care about you Princy you're not Logan and he shouldn't stop people either'' he finally pushes out. ''And I, I care a lot, so I'm going to worry weather you want me to or not, I'm a stubborn sleep deprived coffee gay, you will not be able to out argue me on the ways you're amazing and worthy'' he let out a long breathe after spitting out his mismesh of words that he really wasn't proud of. Roman continued to sulk refusing to rollover and look at him '' Roman...'' he nudged him gently ''talk to me...please'' no response. Remy's heart sunk and he went to remove his hand from Roman's hair disappointingly feeling like he'd failed. ''Don't stop...'' Came a mumbled whisper ''what!?'' Remy asked surprised ''you can mess with my hair...I like it...'' Remy laughed at Roman's resistant response ''Okay'' he smiled returning his hand to Roman's hair. They sat like that for several minutes in silence Roman staying closed off and Remy just patiently waiting for if and when he'd be okay.

After awhile the quiet broke ''You think I'm amazing'' Roman sniffled ''hell yeah I do'' Remy smiled ''I think you're wonderful Princy'' Roman readjusted slightly still keeping his back to Remy. ''Why'' he asked needing validation, Remy was happy to oblige ''Well'' he began ''you're charming and kind, I really did mean what I said about you having a good heart. You're just filled with so much love and hope, It's really awe-inspiring and you come up with the most beautiful dreams for my nights with Thomas'' his voice was low and soft. ''Oh..'' Roman doesn't know how to respond "but honestly that's not enough, you try so hard to make everyone happy, even more then  Patton does, a lot more actually. You care so much about other people and what they think, I've seen you literally hang the stars for people'' Remy went on ''Logan wanted them..'' Roman mumbled again slowly loosening up. '' And you spent many dreamless nights collecting them and then setting them up for him...'' he trailed off. Roman finally rolled over and looked up at Remy ''How do you know that?'' Remy's cheeks tinted pink ''well-I...You weren't there to help me with dreams...and Remus..did it...instead'' the coffee fanatic was having a hard time getting his words out, something that was Very unusual.

''Anyways..are you feeling better'' he tries to hides blush summoning his sleep mask and lazily flopping it on his face ''I'm tired and out of coffee'' . '' Hey Remy'' Roman readjusted so his weight was entirely on Remy's legs. ''Hmm?'' He responded taking off the sleep mask ''thank you'' he yawned snuggling up to Remy still wearing his jacket. Remy was silent for a moment heat rising in his face ''Yeah- anytime Roman..'' he stays rigid at attention coming from Roman not really sure how to process it.

''Rem'' Roman Whispers again into Remy's neck, ''Yeah Ro'' he responds. Roman lifts his head for a minute and kisses Remy's cheek before laying his head back down on again ''Can you stay and help me sleep tonight please''.

Like he'd even have to ask..

Remy smiled to quietly resting his head on Roman's head ''Of Course Princy, You Can Sleep Peacefully Tonight, I Got You'' Remy curled his fingers around Roman's hand and brings it up to his lips and kisses it peacefully putting the prince to sleep.

''Goodnight''

[holidayblindspot]

Season of Hate/Season of Love (part 2)

The second part of RAnsomedR0gue’s seasonal Reller fic - chapter 1 can be found HERE.

***

The place Weller has picked for dinner is perfect. An upscale but homey vegan restaurant with little private alcoves, hidden seating to shield from curious eyes. She can tell right away that Jane would love it.

Of course Remi tries to hate it, feels the need to be extra resentful after completely giving into his ridiculous spa day, failing to show any semblance of self control. But the whole thing had felt like a waking dream, all frosty and steamy. And in her dreams she lets herself love him, allows him to love her back.

She wishes it hadn’t felt just as good in real life, makes her eye Weller longingly even now. Luckily he’s not looking at her for once, is informing the hostess of their reservation, and she manages to snap herself out of it before he glances back at her.

Get it together, soldier, she tells herself. Orders herself to stop thinking about his thumbs running up her wet back, his mouth touching that sensitive spot behind her ear she hadn’t even known about.

Remi exhales a long breath, forces her mind onto something else, anything else. Even just the merry eco-warrior urbanites with their alternative diets, their pathetic notions that they’re making a real difference by eating chickpeas instead of chicken. If Remi gave a rat’s ass about small time shit like overly cooped up chickens, there would be a lot of poultry farms on fire. Now that would make change, she thinks. Not eating soy cheese.

Goddamned vegan food, she grumbles to herself for the millionth time. Even though she had stopped craving meat ages ago, hasn’t snuck a turkey club since Weller got out of the hospital and started cooking for her. He had even become proficient at making tofu taste good, just another thing to be equally impressed and irritated by.

Stop it, she reminds herself. Pushes to come up with other inconsequential mental snipes at the décor, the hipster staff. But of course all she can think about is how much it suits her with the dim privacy, the artsy noir style art. How Weller much have trekked all around the city searching for the right place to take her because it’s clear he did a thorough job, did not just look at internet photos and reviews.

Remi glances around the restaurant, again trying to shake her faux husband out of her head. It takes her a moment to realize she’s been idly scanning the crowd for danger, searching for the most secure locations, all possible entry and exit points. An old ingrained habit, residue from being blown up, left for dead. Though lately she hasn’t felt the need as strongly, isn’t nearly as tense anymore, so acutely aware of everything.

She still remembers too clearly what it was like after the drone attack that nearly killed her. That feeling that she could be ambushed at anytime, the only warning being a whine just before detonation. The need to protect herself in the most innocuous of circumstances, the fear of every possibility.

It’s the only thing she’s thankful for since she woke up in another life. That her PTSD symptoms aren’t nearly as pronounced, constantly plaguing her. She’s no longer hyper sensitive, too sharp and snappy. Which doesn’t make any sense to her, especially because she’s all alone in hostile territory all the time now, with no allies to help protect her.

Irritably, her mind flashes yet again to Weller at that moment, makes her glance up at him. Remi feels a sad smile touch her lips as she sees that he’s also scanning the restaurant, scrutinizing the patrons and the staff. He reflexively puts his arm around her back as he looks for danger, probably doesn’t even realize he’s doing it. Similarly, he shields her with his body, guarding her from the unknown perils of the other vegan diners, the neo-bohemian servers. Because of course Kurt’s traumatic stress revolves entirely around her, just like the rest of his existence.  

His latent anxiety is making her feel edgy again too. But the fear she faces isn’t equipped with AR-15s, 9 mms. She’s just not looking forward to such a private dinner with Kurt, still can’t stop fucking feeling his hands all over her in the hot tub. It makes her cringe yet again, remembering how she had confided in him, let her real self slip through.

The worst part is he had given her an out, a guiltless way to escape his romantic plans. He would have even blamed it all on himself, somehow found fault in everything he did. But she hadn’t been able to lie to him, which was completely out of character for her. Worse yet, had then doubled down by grabbing onto him fiercely, letting him drown her in love.

Remi chastises herself again for being weak, susceptible to his charm. Is just telling herself that she’s going to re-establish her front lines at dinner when Weller slips his hand into hers, squeezes reassuringly.

“Ready?” he murmurs into her ear, so close his breath tickles.

No, she thinks. She’s not ready at all. Hasn’t the willpower to even harm him, much less kill him.

Remi nods, lets him tug her through to their hidden booth, in a back nook with good sightlines and egress routes. It’s both incredibly secure and charming, she has to fight hard not to love it. Even when she notices the cozy layout of the side-by-side seating.

They settle in and order drinks from their server, then it’s quiet between them for a moment as Remi pretends to look at the menu and Kurt does another quick glance around the place

She thinks how he’s so clueless about the danger he’s in, that she could easily murder him anytime. Yet he spends his days worrying about everyone else, her especially.

Case in point, he’s just done observing the entire restaurant and still feels tense beside her despite the fact there’s nothing even remotely threatening about their environment.

“Do you think something’s going on with our server?” Kurt asks, wearing his investigative frown.

Their server hadn’t said anything other than the usual season’s greetings, told them about drink specials. Nor had she seemed anything other than an average artsy vegan waitress, probably just another overworked wannabe actress.

“No, Kurt,” Remi sighs. “I think you’re being paranoid.”

Weller grunts his dissatisfaction with her answer, shakes his head thoughtfully.

“She seems tense,” he mutters.

This coming from the tensest man in the world, she thinks wryly.

“I’m sure everything’s fine Kurt,” Remi replies. “It’s not up to you to protect everyone.”

Kurt exhales irritably, like he disapproves of the mere concept. But he lets it go for the moment, turns to her and looks at her, his brow furrowed.

“No, just you,” he states, his blue eyes suddenly sad. “And I’m not doing a very good job of it.”

Remi turns towards him and frowns, finds that she’s somehow taken his hand in hers, is grasping it reassuringly.

“Kurt,” she groans. “It’s Christmas and I’m right here. Cheer up. Everything’s going to be fine, remember? Or have you been lying to me this whole time?”

She wins a rueful grin for that, feels that warmth in her chest again. Can’t help but grip his fingers even tighter, rub the base of his thumb with hers. Sometimes it’s impossible to deny that she wants to protect him too. Which then makes her do mental gymnastics afterwards to sort out why  

Sitting there though, she suddenly intuits the truth, it all snaps together.

Weller makes her feel safe. The overbearing protectiveness, so tight that it chafes, has an effect other than irritating the shit out of her.

Remi freezes at her revelation, shudders as the icy cold truth drips down the back of her neck. It makes no goddamned sense that knowingly sleeping with the enemy has somehow resolved most of her PTSD. She tries to tell herself it was the ZIP, that the drug was used experimentally as a cure for the disorder. But she knows that ZIP’s effectiveness in treating PTSD was highly questionable. And she can’t deny that Weller’s presence makes her feel secure, reminds her that he is always looking out for her.

Kurt pulls his hand free from hers, runs it up her back until he gets to the base of her neck, pauses there to rub her bare skin gently, as if to prove the point.

“You’re right,” he agrees. “You are right here. I shouldn’t waste that.”

The tone of his voice tells her what’s coming next, yet she doesn’t resist in the slightest as he pulls her into a kiss that starts out wistful and sweet, then deepens with urgency until they’re awkwardly interrupted by the waitress returning with drinks.

Remi pulls back, glad the darkness of their table hides the flush she can feel on her face. Weller’s wearing a look of irritated amusement, the blue of his eyes twinkling vividly despite the dim lighting.

“Well, that never changes,” he comments with a wry laugh.

She finds herself smirking too, a wisp of another life breaking through the barrier. It’s the strangest feeling, to be smiling and not really know why. Like Jane’s memories are there, shimmering in her subconscious. Not clearly enough to see, just enough to make her feel.

Like right now, this shared moment of annoyed amusement with Weller. An in joke she’s not in on.

Usually Remi clamps down on these glimmers of Jane, but tonight she’s all out of resistance. She has to admit that Kurt has played it well, has sapped her of any fight. So she laughs with him easily for once, even finds herself initiating a little footsy action while they order.

While they wait for their food they continue their back booth make out session for awhile then talk about Bethany’s visit the next day, which Remi can’t help but be excited for. Unexpectedly she likes Weller’s daughter, finds her little toddler grumpy Weller-face hilariously cute. And it’s hard to hate a kid that fucking adores you the way Bee adores Jane. Especially when you missed out on the life of your own kid, still regret it to this day.

Weller himself looks beyond excited about actually having his daughter for Christmas day, his eyes beaming, his body language all joyful anticipation. Of course he’s an attentive committed father, full of patience and love.

Like you knew he’d be, she thinks to herself, another distant echo.

It’s as if the walls have thinned with a day of snow dust, fairy lights. She feels the line between her and Jane flexing, dissolving. Usually it would fill her with anxiety, self-questioning. But Remi’s starting to think she can let herself off for Christmas.

Dinner floats by, Weller making her laugh a ridiculous amount of times with his laments about having selected Rich as his post-Christmas Secret Santa recipient, his absurd present ideas for the abnormally grating reformed dark web hacker. Which then leads to Remi confessing that Patterson told her Rich had fixed the draw and selected Jane as his present recipient, of course.

“But we picked names from a hat!” Weller exclaims, shaking his head in exasperation. “How can he rig something like that?”

Remi shrugs in shared mystified annoyance.

“It’s Rich,” she replies. “Everything about him is impossible.”

When their server comes back to ask about dessert they’ve moved on groaning about what Rich might be planning on getting her, the way he always tries to get a rise out of her. Weller glances at the dessert menu for a nanosecond before ordering the double chocolate lava cake, looks disappointed in her when she chooses something much less extravagant.

The waitress leaves with their orders, Kurt’s eyes following her as she stops at the bar to enter it into the system. Remi wonders what he sees, why he’s been half-watching her all evening. If she was less sure of his absolute devotion she would think he was interested. But she knows him well enough to read the protectiveness in his body language. He intuits there’s something wrong, that she needs help. Which is Weller’s way usually, an instinct that is annoyingly right most of the time.

Remi mostly thinks he’s being paranoid, somehow wants to self-sabotage Christmas because he’s so anxious about getting it right. But then again Weller does have some sort of spidey sense for people that need of protection.

She sighs, hopes he will just let it go and eat his ridiculous dessert. Kisses him on the edge of his forehead and tells him to not worry so much as she gets up, finds her way to the restroom.

She’s on her way back to their table when Remi hears the unmistakable sound of a gun shot coming from just out back of the restaurant. When Weller doesn’t come running through to check on the situation she sprints for their table, fear leaping into her mind as she remembers he had taken his weapon off while they were making out earlier.

She’s not surprised that Weller isn’t at their booth but she does swear and panic at the sight of his holster and gun, still wedged into the seating. He never forgets to take his weapon anywhere.

Remi tucks the gun into her pants, draws her own and runs for the back door

***

Weller smiles to himself, the feeling of Jane’s lips still warm against his temple as he watches her walk off towards the restrooms. The spa had been a winning idea after all, she’d been loose and expressive throughout dinner. This time It’s him that has the problem, the inescapable curse of worrying about everything, always being on guard. Especially since Jane’s been sick, he’s hyper aware of any possible danger, feels the need to protect her at all times.

Which is rationally ridiculous, because she’s tougher and more capable than he is despite the ZIP poisoning. And she hates it, is always sighing at him, telling him not to worry so much.

He can’t help it though, needs to be sure. It’s why he cased vegan restaurants all around the city before finding this one, both secure and private. Good entry and exit points, no one to stare at Jane except for him.

But despite the prime setting Kurt’s still been on high alert all night, has the worst feeling creeping at his neck about their server’s tight body language, her distracted glances around. He’s been trying to tell himself that Jane’s right, that he’s just reading too much into things, his anxiety setting off false positives.

Still, Kurt watches as their waitress walks down the hallway towards the back door of the restaurant with a bag of garbage and doesn’t immediately return. Feels his spine tingle with nervous anticipation.

Probably just going for a smoke break too, Weller thinks to himself. Though she hadn’t smelled like a smoker and he hadn’t seen her go out back previously that night.

The gears whirr in his head, his well-honed gut instinct fitting things together. The layout of the restaurant, how he’d seen a couple kissing in the alley just outside the back door when he’d come to look at the place a few weeks ago, the similarities between their server and the woman he’d seen. Now that he thinks about it, he’s fairly certain it’s the same person, just much tighter in her shoulders, a different energy to her.

It is most likely that he’s being paranoid, working himself up about nothing. But when he waits five more minutes and the waitress still hasn’t come back down the hall, Kurt can’t help but get up and go investigate.

Weller heads towards the back exit, hopes he’s about to run into his quarry and have to make some awkward excuse for following her down a dark hallway. But he doesn’t see her anywhere, opens the back door and is peering out when he hears the unmistakable sound of a strangled scream from across the alleyway.

Kurt bolts out the door, sees their waitress being choked against a concrete wall by a huge man with a gun. There’s a utility van with its back doors open nearby as well and it’s clear that the man is trying to abduct her.

“Freeze, FBI!” Weller hollers, reaching for his service weapon.

He’s halfway through the action when he realizes his mistake. He’d taken it off because it kept getting in his way while he was kissing Jane.

He’s going to die because he couldn’t help being handsy with his wife.

The man turns slowly and Kurt is already halfway there, launching himself into a flying tackle.

The element of surprise saves his life and Weller manages to knock the other man’s gun hand aside as he fires a shot. The bullet somehow skims across his collarbone instead of penetrating his chest cavity. Burns a bloody line along his chest as they hit the ground and Kurt slams the gun out of his assailant’s hand.

By that time the other man has read the situation and starts to use his size advantage to turn and pin Weller to the ground, hammer at his head with a giant fist. Kurt takes two hard hits to the temple, feels his skull crushed between the man’s knuckles and the rough concrete. Blood starts to drip down his face as he struggles to get free, just manages to knee the other guy in the crotch and slip out from under his weight.

Weller stumbles two steps towards the abandoned gun before he’s tackled from behind and tumbles hard to the ground. His attacker manages to get up before he does and viciously kicks him in the ribs with a steel-toed boot, then again in the head so hard Kurt almost passes out. He struggles to remain conscious, feels the foot connect again with his torso, directly in the sternum. Weller struggles for breath, tries to roll away when he sees the sole of the boot coming down at him and braces himself for having his teeth smashed in.

Jane is going to be really upset with him for dying on Christmas Eve, his half conscious mind thinks as the foot approaches his head. But then just as the rubber is about to touch his face, Weller hears a gunshot, feels a spray of blood that isn’t his own, sees his assailant fall to the ground clutching at his side.

Jane runs over, secures the perp with zip ties before kneeling down beside him and looking him over frantically.

“Oh my god, Kurt!” Jane exclaims. “You’re hurt.”

“I’m okay,” he grunts, pushing himself into a sitting position.

“You don’t look okay,” she replies, her green eyes dark with concern. “Your head is bleeding pretty badly. And your chest too, it looks like.”

She puts her hand on his jaw, lifts his head so she can assess his pupils and frowns at what she sees. He can tell she’s about to say that he’s concussed, that he needs to go to the hospital.

“I’m fine, Jane,” Weller groans, attempting a pre-emptive strike. The last thing he wants to do is spend Christmas Eve in the ER. They were meant to spend the rest of the night playing tourist in their own city, walk around to all the holiday displays, admire the festive lights.

“You call it in and see if our waitress is okay,” he adds. “I just need to clean up a bit.”

She’s still looking at him worriedly, brushing her thumb against his cheekbone.

“An ambulance and NYPD are already on their way,” she says. “And the waitress is fine, she’s the one that called 911. She’s inside with the manager now, everything’s being dealt with.”

Weller breathes a sigh of relief, scrubs his sleeve over the blood dripping down his face then winces at the sting of the cut. He brings his hand up again to probe at the injury but Jane catches it and puts it back down at his side before reaching her own hand up to tenderly wipe away the blood with a napkin, examine the cut.

“You’re going to need stitches,” she comments as she applies pressure to the wound, tries to stop the bleeding.

Kurt sighs, thinks it’s unlikely he’s going to win this argument. Jane’s too stubborn and is probably right. His head is still bleeding profusely and the pain in his temple has steadily increased to the point of being debilitating. So he’s probably going to end up in the hospital despite his annoyance with the circumstances, knowing that he’s managed to screw up yet another Christmas for Jane.

“I’m sorry,” he mutters, looking at her sadly.

Jane tilts her head and looks at him, her eyes twinkling with exasperation.

“You’re sorry you saved our waitress’s life?” she asks. “I still can’t believe you were right. Or that you forgot your gun.”

“I was distracted,” Weller declares with a groan. “That was so stupid. This is all my fault.”

“Hmm. Yeah, your fault for caring too much about everyone,” she replies, shaking her head at him. “Although I think it’s at least half my fault you weren’t wearing your holster.”

Kurt grins sheepishly, tilts his head towards her and then grunts at the pain of the movement, the nausea that washes through him.

Jane’s eyes emit alarm as he scurries away to vomit, heaves over and over until his ribs are screaming with the same intensity as his head.

Shit, you really screwed this up, he tells himself. Great worry free Christmas you’re giving your sick wife.

As if to prove his point, he feels Jane’s arms encircle him from behind, one hand on his bloody collarbone, the other rubbing his back gently. It feels incredible despite all the pain and he lets her soothe his hurt away even though he feels pathetic about allowing it.

“How bad is it?” she asks, her tone sadly stern, her breath soft against his ear. “The truth.”

Weller closes his eyes to push away another wave of vertigo, feels each shaky breath brush harshly against his broken ribs. His headache intensifies as he tries to resist puking again and for a moment all he can do is hug himself and softly moan.

“That’s pretty bad,” Jane states, answering her own question.

She’s still draped lightly over his back, her breath warm against his neck. He can hear the worry in her voice, the slightly tearful inflection. Knows she’s trying to hold it back so he doesn’t feel bad about upsetting her, which just makes him feel worse about it all.

It helps a bit when their waitress comes out to tearfully thank him, tells them how she had just left her husband and he’d started threatening her a few days ago, saying how he couldn’t spend Christmas alone. But she’d never expected that things would go so far, that he would threaten to kill them both.

The woman is extremely grateful, apologizes over and over while Weller tries to deflect her gratitude, tell her that he was just doing his job. Because all he can think about is how incredibly idiotic it was to forget his weapon, that he deserves everything he got as a result of such a basic error.

Eventually she tells them that their meal is paid for, that the owner of the restaurant wants to invite them back for another free dinner so they get a chance to finish their date. Of course Weller tries to tell her it’s not necessary and then shakes his head too vigorously, feels his body fill with nausea yet again.

Jane lets go of him so he can scurry away far enough to dry heave and groan with some dignity. When he’s finally done retching a few minutes later, the seeping cold of shock is starting to set in between his shoulders and Kurt begins to tremble uncontrollably in his soggy and bloody clothes.

Thankfully Jane must have seen him shivering and realized what he needed because she comes rushing over with his jacket, some towels, and a blanket. She sits behind him again and cuts his soggy shirt off with a pair of scissors, then wipes him dry with a towel before gently dressing him in his jacket. Next, she drapes the blanket over his shoulders and around his shaking torso, wraps her arms around his chest and starts to rub her hands up and down his arm while breathing hot air against the nape of his neck.  

“So are you going to let me take you to the hospital?” she asks, as if he could really deny her anything. Even if he wasn’t in a world of hurt, definitely needs medical attention.

Weller nods ruefully, then gasps as the throbbing in his temple becomes even more unrelenting.

It’s like Jane can feel what’s going on in his body, leans him back and cradles his head against her chest, rubs soothingly at the pain with her thumbs.

“You’re unbelievable,” she mutters, her lips tickly against the back of his head. “And an idiot.”

“Mmmm,” he agrees. “Your idiot.”

“Yeah,” Jane replies. “My heroic idiot. That was pretty incredible, Kurt.”

He allows himself a half grin, despite still feeling like he’s messed things up yet again. Jane doesn’t seem to be annoyed at his stupidity, is just worried that he’s covered in blood and in a significant amount of pain. Which isn’t ideal, definitely not the perfect holiday he’d planned. But he can tell she’s proud of him as she nuzzles her nose into the nape of his neck, holds him to her as firmly as she can without hurting his sore chest.

“Well, I have a lot of catching up to do,” he declares. “You’re incredible all the time.”

He feels her smile against his skin, then kiss him on the top of his head.

“Shut up, Kurt,” she murmurs with a laugh. “You’re delirious.”

But he doesn’t follow orders, continues to lean against her and go on about all the ways in which he adores her. Because it makes her smile and sigh, makes him forget about the pounding in his head, the difficulty of breathing, until he finally hears multiple vehicles with sirens pull up in the alleyway.

The EMTs unload and ask him too many questions as Jane helps him lie down gently on the stretcher and they quickly load him into the back of the ambulance. The sudden movement of the gurney makes his vision swim again and he barely manages to keep from retching as they secure him for transport.

Thankfully Jane clambers in after him and sees that he’s struggling, grabs his hand and squeezes, then and skims her other palm over his chest lightly.

“It’s okay,” she says, leaning over to kiss his forehead. “They’re going to give you something for the pain, it should make you comfortable until we’re at the hospital. So try and rest, Kurt. I’m here, you’re safe.”

It’s what he’s meant to be doing for her, keeping her safe, protecting his wife.

But then again he married Jane, deadly compassionate, always more worried about everyone else than herself, even with a fatal illness. Capable of anything, including saving his life on Christmas Eve, soothing him to sleep in a sea of hurt.

[dat-fandom-losertown]

Happy NHPC Day!

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Chapter 1

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Spideypool / Peter Parker + Wade Wilson

Warnings: Non-graphic Violence, A paragraph or two of homophobia, A single homophobic slur

Word Count: 6,122

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Summary:

    Peter and Wade have a tradition they've been following every Valentine's Day and National Half-Priced Candy Day for several years now. They patrol all day and night for Valentine's in their special "June-themed" suits, and on the 15th they spend their day cuddling, eating cheap candy, and napping to make up for the lack of rest from the day before.     This year, though, Peter wants to do something slightly different for NHPC day. Something neither of them will ever forget.

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~> Next

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    Hey guys! I know I haven’t written anything but D:BH here so far (and I may make a late Valentine’s thing for that fandom too), but it had always been my plan to be a multi-fandom account eventually, and I couldn’t miss out on the “Isn’t it Bromantic” Spideypool Discord server’s Valentine’s Day Challenge!

    If Spideypool isn’t your thing, I totally get it and I don’t expect you to read this (and I’m gonna be making a post about what to do if you don’t want to see a ship or fandom you don’t like real soon), but if it is your thing, then Welcome! There isn’t much true fluff in this chapter, and this is kind of all over the place, but there absolutely will be tomorrow in the second part and things will tie together! So please hang in there, and I hope you enjoy this chapter!

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    “Spidey-poo! Spider-honey! Web-darling!”

    Peter quickly spots Wade’s bright suit and rolls his eyes as he quickly and sternly shushes him, knowing the other super can hear him even if he’s on the rooftop across the street. He swings over and meets Wade on the other side with practiced grace.

    “‘Pool, it is five in the morning and normal people are still sleeping! You can’t just yell like that!”

    Wade, as expected by this point, completely ignores Peter’s halfhearted chiding and instead sweeps him up into a large bear hug as if they hadn’t just seen each other thirty minutes ago.

    “My baby boy’s looking extra bi for this valentine’s day!” He spins them around a couple of times for good measure, then sets him down, keeping his hands on his shoulders. “Did you upgrade the gay suit? Because this looks even better than it did in June!”

    A few years back, Wade had jokingly made a comment about wearing pride colors on patrol during the month of June, just to rub it into the “old bigots’ faces” and to get a good laugh. After a day or two of not being able to get that thought out of his head, he figured that if cops can’t be at pride, then at least Spiderman and Deadpool should be able to join in to keep the crime at bay.

    As soon as he told Wade this, the ex-merc went all out. He made an entirely new suit for the occasion instead of just taping a flag to his shoulders like Peter was expecting. He argued that “How are the people supposed to know we’re there to help and support if all they see is the usual red with black and red and blue?” and admitted he already had designs for their pride suits ready to go for ages. Wade’s was based off of his pansexuality with all the red parts turned bright pink, the black became bright blue, and all of his weapons (most of them being non-lethal now, thanks to Peter’s insistence) replaced with ones that are bright gold and yellow.

    That first year, Peter refused an altered suit, mostly because back then their relationship was newer and he was worried about somehow paying Wade the favor back. Although, he allowed Wade to make it the next year since the design for it was much more subdued than Wade’s by far, and he seemed to have so much fun in his new get up. For Peter’s suit, the blue stayed the same, the red became magenta, and his eye-pieces and web designs became purple all in tribute to his own bisexuality.

    The next February after that was when Peter (not Wade, surprisingly enough) came up with the idea to wear these suits on their annual Valentine’s day 20 hour watch, just to show the heteros that they still exist outside of pride month.

    That, and “Bi-derman” and “Pan-pool” slash “Dead-pan” are kind of a big hit, so why the hell not?

    Peter hasn’t done much altering to his suit beyond repairs, but since last June, he’s completely remade the suit in a tougher material and made the blue and magenta more vibrant and the purple web designs darker to help with the contrast. He also made his eye-pieces white because holy hell was it hard to see through those darker lenses.

    “You have a good eye, ‘Pool. Do you like it?” He sticks his arms out and slowly spins as he continues, “I remade it with the extra money from that raise I got a while back.”

    Wade quickly grabs Peter and pulls him close again, this time letting his hands roam over the fabric. He can feel the appraise Wade is silently sending him, and the part of him that was worried about making the protective padding on his chest and gut look more muscular rather than lean settles immediately.

    “Mmmyes. Me likey this a lot.” He takes a step back and pointedly looks Peter up and down, “Where did you even hide this? I swear I looked in our secret closet and under the bed when I definitely wasn’t snooping for my Christmas presents again.”

    Peter rolls his eyes, and he bets that Wade knows it even if his eyes are covered. “If I told you where then I’d have to find a way to erase your memory, because killing you isn’t an option.”

    “I dunno, babe, you just might kill me with this damn suit.” He hesitates, then flops his head back with a groan, “Fuck, you’re right, I only get to see it on you for a month and a day a year. How did you even get this level of muscle definition to show through your suit? You look like you do in some of the comics! Clothes in real life don’t work like this!”

    “Bullet-resistant padding thanks to Tony and a lot of neat seam-work to make it look like natural muscle.” Peter states matter-of-factly, “Get me the materials and I could do the same for your suits, since I don’t think Tony will offer to give you any.”

    “Nah. I don’t need it, and I don’t want to distract from this gorgeous bod’–” he cups Peter’s face “–anytime soon.” Wade gently places his forehead on Peter’s, letting their masked-noses bump. He ruins the moment by murmuring “Is there anything I can do to make you wear this suit in the bedroom?”

    “No.” Peter swiftly turns and walks to the edge of the building, waiting for Wade to hop on his back.

    “But baby...” the man in question whines, “You wear your other one–”

    “Only sometimes and only when you distract me before I can completely change, and I don’t want this one ruined before I can wear it this June.” He ignores Wade’s pout and says, “This fabric is much harder to wash.”

    “Ugh, fine. At least I get to watch you flip around some baddies today” he wiggles happily.

    “You won’t if you don’t friggin’ hurry up!” he sing-songs, casting a web out in preparation to swing away.

    Wade doesn’t respond, but his spidey-senses tingle a warning of something incoming, so he braces himself as his boyfriend leaps onto his back. He loops his legs over Peter’s hips and his arms around his shoulders, then they’re off.

    They swing for almost 45 minutes before the duo hear their first cry for help of the day.

    Peter hastily swings over to where they heard the woman cry out, and from there it isn’t hard to find her being held hostage by a man in a wolf mask (seriously, why a wolf? Could he only afford a mask from the halloween clearance shelf?) while a well-dressed man shakily pulls out his wallet. Wade drops in, and Peter pretends he didn’t hear the crunch of one of his joints twisting wrong during the landing. By the time Peter drops in to help calm the couple down, Wade has already knocked out and tied up the perpetrator. The couple thanks the vigilantes, then hurry off to the subway, eager to get back to a safer part of the city.

    As per usual on their Valentine’s day “event”, they personally drag the mugger to the police station themselves. The police usually have enough on their plate as it is without Spiderman and Deadpool calling them all day to pick someone up if the duo can just do it themselves. Besides, it gives the couple a chance to interact with the public, even if that’s sometimes less-than-pleasing.

    Thankfully, they don’t run into too much drama on the way to the station. A young man on the way to work stops them for a picture, admitting that he’s been excited to see the pictures of them in their pride uniforms online later today while a stranger scoffs at them, but that’s hardly drama and is completely expected.

    When it starts getting close to seven o’clock in the morning, things start picking up. By the time nine rolls around, they’ve stopped two more minor muggings and talked someone down from trying to commit a crime, which doesn’t successfully happen nearly as often as Peter would like. They buy an ungodly amount of breakfast and hand a chunk of it out to homeless people before they spot someone trying to break into a window on the fourth floor of an apartment building. Peter goes to take care of it while Wade skips away to pass out more food.

    “Yo!” Peter calls jovially as he climbs up the wall, “You know, this is extremely dangerous for someone who doesn’t have spider powers, so if you could just–”

    His spidey senses suddenly warn him and he jumps to the left, narrowly missing a metal skewer to the shoulder. 

    “What the hell?! Do you know how dangerous it is to carry those around–” he dodges another one “–normally? And, like, you’re on a rickety– woah!–” He twists his body in order to not get hit “–rickety old fire escape throwing them, so–” He narrowly misses the next one “–Damn it! Would it hurt you to stop for two seconds! Why are you even getting into this specific apartment? There are easier and sneakier ones to get into!”

    “My ex wife lives here.” He confesses, throwing another skewer, “She cheated on me with two other people, then divorced me and is trying to take everything! See! I’m not some low-life criminal, so just leave me alone!”

    Peter wasn’t actually expecting an answer, but he can try to make-do with this.

    “Do you have evidence of her cheating?” he tries, and it must work on some level because the man stops throwing skewers. Just how many did he have, anyway? And why skewers of all things?

    The man nods, still hesitating on the next skewer. Damn it, he needs to think of something fast. Well, he doesn’t need to, but he’d rather not send this guy to the cops. He seems like one of the dudes he can calm down.

    “Okay, well, do you know if the people she cheated on you with knows she’s cheating on them?”

    The guy ponders this for a moment. “No, I don’t think so.”

    “So… Why not try getting together and form a mini mob to maybe, I dunno, publicly humiliate her? Instead of breaking into her apartment or hurting her? Or both? Instead of making yourself out as the bad guy?”

    “Ooo! Who are we publicly humiliating!” Deadpool calls from the bottom of the fire escape. “I want in on the action! I’m really good at scheming!” he rubs his hands together like some kind of mad scientist.

    “Deadpool, now is not the time–”

    “So you’d help me get revenge on my cheating ex-wife?”

    “Wait–”

    “Oh hell yeah! We’re gonna blow her cover just like I blow–”

    “Okay!” Peter shouts over what was undoubtedly about to be Wade bragging about their nighttime activities again. Or maybe he was actually going to mention one of the explosives or grenades he has back at home, who knows?

    This scenario is one of the “If you can’t beat them, join them” type, isn’t it? Well, in this case it’s probably closer to “If you can’t stop them, leave and pretend that it isn’t happening for as long as possible, then deny it did for even longer.”

    He sighs and mutters “I can not believe I’m about to do this,” before shouting down to Wade, “Since you’re apparently going to actually do this, can there not be any bodily harm or apartment destruction? If not anything else?”

    “Aw, but baby boo, arson is the third best crime to commit…” At Peter’s stern look, he relents. “Fine, but if we’re gonna do this right, but I want a little fee for this amazing plan I’m coming up with!”

    Peter takes that and the man’s positive response as his cue to leave and pretend his boyfriend isn’t plotting to cause a huge scene with three other people today. It’s much easier to do once he catches some asshole slipping his hand up some girl’s dress while keeping her at gunpoint in some alley.

    A web here, a punch there, and another punch, and a kick. Then one last kick and punch just for good measure, along with another web, and the girl is saved and the wrong-doer is unconscious and tied up. In the not sexy way, Deadpool would probably add if he was here.

    “Thank you, Spiderman!” he hears the woman sobs before she pounces on him with a hug.

    “Woah, hey, you’re safe now.” He awkwardly hugs the stranger back.

    “He’s been stalking me for a while and I’ve just been hoping that I could get close to a police station or something but then he disappeared and cut me off and I couldn’t run in these heels and he got me–”

    “Hey hey hey, he’s gone now. He’s not gonna hurt anyone anymore, okay?” He pulls away from her, and she gives a shaky nod. “Okay, do you have anyone you can call–”

    “Spidey!” he hears the familiar voice sing at the end of the alley, “You left without me!” The footsteps suddenly stop, and Wade’s voice becomes much softer. “Hey, you alright? No one important is hurt?” He glances over to the webbed up man briefly.

    The woman shakes her head. Knowing that Wade will probably keep quiet for now, Peter restates his question.

    “Do you have anyone you can call for now so you’re not alone?”

    The girl nods again, “I was just on my way to meet my partner. They’d come right away.” She huffs a wet laugh, “They actually adore you two. You helped them from a bunch of bullies at pride two years ago.”

    “I’m glad we can get to them in time, then.” Peter smiles.

    “Hells yea! The world could do with more people who say “fuck you” to gender rolls!” He points to nothing as he continues, “And you read that right, readers! Rolls with two L’s wasn’t a typo, because gender rolls are the nastiest kind of bread. Yuck!”

    The woman huffs a laugh then looks up from her ringing phone, tilting her head in sudden confusion, “Readers? Typo?”

    “Don’t worry about it,” Peter cuts in, “It’s just a thing he does.” He doesn’t want to take the time to explain Wade’s weird habits of doing something called “breaking the fourth wall”, and how he addresses some things to readers and others to viewers or watchers and other to his two internal “boxes” named “Yellow” and “White”.

    Peter hears the person on the other end finally pick up the phone and ask if something’s up. The woman asks them to go to a certain coffee shop to meet her instead of the fountain– wherever that could be in a place like this– to meet her. The other person immediately agrees. Peter is also mildly impressed and rather touched that they also asked for her to stay on the line until they meet instead of just hanging up in a rush like plenty of people seem to do. This person is definitely good for this lady.

    They end up walking with the woman to the aforementioned coffee shop, and they chat a little with the person on the line while Peter keeps a very close ear out for anything odd that may need his assistance and pays close attention to his spidey-senses. They get a photo with one group of kids and their parents on the way, then a few more pictures once they meet up with Kasandra’s (they finally got the woman’s name) partner. After that, a group of teens on a triple date quickly came up for pictures and complimented their pride suits.

    Peter’s spidey sense starts going off before the teens can say much else. With Deadpool quickly and securely latching onto his back, he climbs up a wall to safely swing away to the danger.

    After that, it becomes a pretty normal day, as far as patrolling goes. Despite the fact that most of New York City knows that Spiderman and Deadpool patrol all day and night long on most holidays, the crime rate still rises on them. It makes Peter wonder just how many people they don’t get to whenever they patrol; how many people call out for them specifically when Peter is too far away to hear them or sense them being in danger?

    He doesn’t want to know the answer to that, and Wade does his best to help Peter keep his brain from travelling down those dark paths once he figured out it made his depression and anxiety that much worse.

    He honestly doesn’t know what he’d do without Wade. They’ve been together for so long that Peter can’t imagine a day where he’d be gone for good. Yeah, he still sometimes spends weeks or, very rarely, months away for some SHIELD job, but he always eventually comes back. He’s almost completely immune to his “Parker Luck” because he’s technically immune to death and injury. So the thought that one day Wade may leave and not come back because something between them just couldn’t be worked through?

    It’s terrifying.

    The thing about that last thought, though, is that Peter can’t imagine not being able to work things out with Wade. They always work things out. They’ve been living with each other for years now, so that was something they had to learn how to do a long while ago. Even their various friends agree that, as much as they banter like best friends, they also tend to argue and compromise over small things like an old, married couple. He and Wade never try to argue their observations either. Peter isn’t quite so sure about his other half, but he feels like they’re already a married couple. There’s just no rings or legal papers to make it official yet.

    Yet.

    He abruptly pauses at webbing a group of home intruders to the brick wall in front of him to watch Wade with wide eyes as the other chatters away, searching for a cell phone to call the police with so these guys can be picked up.

    Wade’s self-esteem would probably never allow him to ask Peter to marry him, even though they’ve been dating for over six years now and living together for about the same length of time. Even if they had been dating for twelve or twenty years, he doubts Wade would be able to do it without backing out or panicking just because he’d probably feel like he was trapping Peter or something bizarre but sadly understandable like that, especially if his boxes are in a shitty mood that hnypothetical day. 

    He doesn’t doubt for a moment that Wade loves him deeply, even with all the shit they give each other. Hell, especially with all the shit they give each other. It means a hell of a lot when people can make fun of each other and poke at each other and can trust wholeheartedly that the other person knows that it means nothing or comes from a place of pure love, especially for people with backgrounds filled with anxiety like Peter and Wade.

    It takes a lot of trust to open oneself up completely to another person, and Wade is the first person like that for Peter ever since he became Spiderman, and Peter hopes he’s close enough to being that person for Wade in return. It takes a lot of love and trust on both of their parts to deal with the somewhat common panic attacks, depression dips, and self-punishments and the less common hallucinations and serious depression dips and still stick around after all is said and done.

    They’ve been together through thick and thin, through grave injuries and actual death (on Wade’s account, anyway). They’ve stuck together through sickness and loss, happiness and wealth (there was a few months where Wade was apparently secretly convinced that Peter would leave once he was no longer dirt poor, but that’s been proven wrong a hundred times over by now). They’ve been through everything the traditional wedding vows mention, and the “until death do us part” really only works on Peter, but his powers and trained skills don’t make him an easy target, either.

    Peter knows what he wants to do, or rather, he’s just now realized what he’s been wanting for a long while. And now that he knows what’s missing, he’s going to take the first steps to get it. Wade took the first steps in starting their relationship, so it’s only fair that Peter takes the first step or two towards their marriage. Probable marriage, he corrects himself, because if there’s one thing he’s learned from being with Wade all these years, it’s that if something has even one percent chance of happening, it’s plenty of wiggle room for the ex-merc to do it. And Peter’s only 99 percent sure that he’ll say yes.

    That just means he needs to make tomorrow the best National Half-Priced Candy Day yet.

    “Spidey?” Wade snaps him out of his thoughts, sounding like that wasn’t the first time he called for him.

    Peter shakes his head. “Sorry. Just got a bit carried away in my head I guess.”

    Wade nods thoughtfully. Peter can practically see the concern dripping off of him. “You need a break? We’ve been at this for–” he checks the stranger’s phone still in his hand, “twelve hours now. Dang.” He pauses. “I know right? But you know what they say, time flies when you’re having fun, and I’m always having fun when our snookums is around!” Wade’s bright grin stretches the bright pink and blue fabric of his mask.

    “I usually have fun when you’re around too, ‘Pool.” Peter grins and turns away. He hears a gasp behind him.

    “Baaabe!!” he whines, “Only usually? You wound me! I am always fun, especially when–” He abruptly stops. When he doesn’t immediately respond to whatever his boxes are saying, Peter turns around.

    Wade is looking at Peter with a strangely somber expression, one that’s obvious through his mask. Then he picks himself up in what Peter can now tell is false cheer.

    “You know, Spidey, if you ever get tired of me–”

    “Never gonna happen.” Peter walks towards Wade and puts his hands on his undoubtedly surprised face. “You can’t get rid of me that easily, ya doof.” He pecks a kiss to his masked nose then pulls away. “Come on, then! We have more criminals to stop and people to save!”

    Peter hesitates just long enough for Wade to jump on his back before taking off. As he swings them through the city, he starts thinking of a plan of action for tomorrow.

    If there was any chance that he was wrong about Wade’s self esteem not letting him pop the question first, what the ex-merc just said squashed it, which means Peter will have to be the one to do it. He could go the easy way and go about their usual NHPC day and get down on one knee when they’re back at home (because for as much as Wade puts on an act of shamelessness and seems to constantly overshare, he’s strangely a rather private person), but he doesn’t particularly want to.

    A quick look to the left mid-swing and he thinks he has the perfect thing.

    His spidey-senses guide him to the right, so he follows. It doesn’t take very long at all for the pair to spot the dark smoke in the sky directly ahead of them. They make it there quickly, taking in the apartment building that is almost overrun by bright flames, the two fire trucks, and the group of firefighters on the street trying their best to evacuate people and put out the worst of the fire. Wade points out that the fire escape must either be engulfed by flames or has broken off or something because he can see a couple through a window on the top floor.

    Without stopping to ask what happened or what’s needed of them– mainly because they’d probably say something that basically means “go away and mind your own business”– they enter the building through a window on the top floor (“Wade! You didn’t have to break it!” “The entire building is basically broken! It’s fine!”) since they both believe that, with the get up most of them are wearing, the firefighters are working on evacuating the people in the thick of the flames now and haven’t reached anyone in the higher floors.

    Besides, the materials Peter and Wade use to make their respective suits aren’t exactly heat and flame resistant, so this is how they can be helpful.

    Inside the building is, predictably, hot and smokey from the flames, and Peter knows it will get louder too as they reach the floors that are closer to the majority of the fire. They split up and work through the top floor first with Peter safely lowering two small families, two couples, and several animals down one or two at a time while Wade searches for any others and gathers them to their chosen window. Once Wade says it’s clear and the civilians are safe, they move downstairs to the next floor and set up the same system.

    This floor is proven to be a bit more difficult when Wade comes back with two cats and informs Peter that their owner is a business man that recognized Deadpool as the mercenary he hasn’t been in a long while and accused him of setting the building on fire while simultaneously begging for his life. So Peter has to leave his post at the window and let Wade lower the few remaining people down while he goes and talks to the business man.

    Peter easily finds the middle-aged man cowering in the corner and tries to calm him down. Although, it very quickly becomes apparent that he isn’t having any of it because “Anyone who works with Deadpool only thirsts for blood, and you will not have mine that easily!” Peter just huffs and picks him up like a potato sack, ignoring his shouting and struggling while he carries him to the window in his kitchen. Peter casts a new web and makes a quick harness, gets the man– who had stopped struggling real fast once he realized he was no longer inside– and lowers him down faster than he had for the others.

    He meets up with Wade in the hallway, who apparently cleared the rest of the floor while Paranoid Man was causing a fuss, and they move down again. They hastily clear out most of the apartments on the third-to-top floor when Peter hears a shout and a gunshot from down the hallway. The only people there to lower the two small dogs he has on the line now are three siblings, the oldest being no older than 16 and the youngest no older than 10. Another gunshot forces Peter’s hand, though.

    “Hey! Do you think you could lower these pups down while I go check that out?”

    The oldest sibling, a girl with a pixie cut, ripped jeans, and a black sweatshirt, looks out the window and nods. She silently and shakily takes the webbing from him and starts to lower them. Peter doesn’t waste any time in sprinting down the hall to the last apartment where he last saw Wade disappear. Inside he finds a woman in her forties or fifties holding a gun to Wade’s unmoving body. Whether he’s dead or unconscious, he doesn’t know, but that doesn’t matter.

    “Hey! What the hell, lady! We’re trying to help!” Peter stomps towards her.

    “I’d rather die than be contaminated by freaks like you!”

    His spidey-sense suddenly screams at him, and Peter jumps and rolls to the side just in time to dodge the bullet that would have hit his chest.

    “What the fuck?!”

    “Get out of my damn apartment!” she screams, pointing the gun at him again.

    “Lady, there is literally a fire–”

    “And I will not be saved by faggots like you!”

    Oh… How fun… One of those people… 

    But she’s still a civilian, Peter reminds himself, and he really shouldn’t web her up in the corner of the room just because she’d rather die than accept help from someone who isn’t straight. No matter how much he kind of wants to right now. The fire probably won’t even reach this floor, anyway… But he still can’t.

    “This is a matter of life and death for you, what the hell–” He jumps to the left to dodge another bullet.

    “And I don’t fucking care!” She screams, “You can all go and burn in hell! But I won’t let myself be swayed by your cursed ways!” she shoots once more, and she should have only one shot left at most, if Peter’s counting right.

    She doesn’t get to shoot again, though, because Deadpool comes up behind her and knocks her out.

    “Do you know how close I was to killing her? Do you know how easy it’d still be to? God sometimes I wish I was still a mercenary. I mean, look at this! She got blood on my gay suit!” He complains, staring down at the woman disdainfully and poking at the single bullet wound in his chest. 

    Peter, instead of praising him for not killing her or explaining why they should keep her alive, just nods and jogs out of the apartment. He has other people he needs to save, afterall.

    He pretends to not hear Wade’s gasp and sinister chuckle behind him.

    He gets the siblings down, and Wade comes back with a dog and two cats in his arms, and the unconscious woman being dragged behind him by Wade’s new, golden whip (“Now I can be just like Wonder woman!” “Like who?” “Wonder Woman! She’s from the DC Universe and she’s my hero! Besides you, of course!” “Whatever you say, Wade…”). If anyone notices that he lowers the animals before he lowers the human, then they can deal with it. And if they notice that she has “BEWARE: HOMOPHOBIC ASSHOLE” written on her forehead in permanent marker, then it’s not his fault that he can’t control his boyfriend.

    Looking out of the window this time, they realize that the fire has gone down quite a bit. Wade comes running back down the hallway– when did he even leave?– cheering that the fire escape was just covered in fire, but now it’s safe to walk on. Before Peter has the chance to ask if it was safe for civilians to walk on or just supers, Wade jumps in and clarifies that he pretty much cannon-balled onto it and it didn’t bend, and it was only pretty warm through his ruined suit, rather than very warm.

    With that news (and after Peter tested it for himself), they waste no time in telling the other tenants they find to put thick shoes on and go down the fire escape. By the time they finish clearing the few people and animals left in the building, it’s pretty much dark out and some news stations are gathered around outside reporting what happened here for the nightly news.

    “Excuse me, miss,” He hears Wade say to his right. He turns and finds him talking to a young police officer. “How did this fire start? And why’d it get so big?”

    The young woman scowls a bit and opens her mouth to speak, but an older officer behind Peter interrupts her.

    “Someone was trying to make a romantic dinner on the fourth floor and started an oil fire, then tried putting it out with water. It got so big because traffic was horrible today, and we just couldn’t make it here as quickly as we needed.” he smiles ruefully.

    Peter turns to properly face the officer, “Do you know if anyone was seriously hurt?”

    He shakes his head. “But we know that so far there haven’t been any deaths reported so far. Animal or human.”

    Peter nods as Wade speaks. “Thank you, officer! We appreciate the work you do ‘round here, but we should get going!”

    Peter takes his cue and starts walking towards the building across the street to climb up and swing off of.

    “Hey,” the officer catches Peter and Wade’s attention, “I know a lot of other police officers don’t like you doing their job, but you’re doing some real good work out there. So thanks, Spiderman and Deadpool.”

    Peter nods, not really knowing what else to do, while Wade openly gapes through his mask. He pulls the ex-merc towards him, and he immediately clings to Peter’s back. They’re gone pretty quickly after that.

    “Babe! Baaabe!!” Wade shouts into his ear mid-swing, “That was amazing! We found someone who doesn’t hate us! And he thanked us!”

    “I know!” He cheers back. It’s always nice to get some positive recognition.

    Wade squeezes on to him tighter. “God, I’m so fucking glad I stopped murdering people.” He kisses the back of his neck through their suits. “I’m really glad I chose you. So happy... The happiest.” he continues quieter, more genuine.

    If Peter didn’t know better, he would’ve thought he wasn’t supposed to hear that last part, that it was just meant for himself and his boxes. But, well, he does know better.

    His brain decides to remind him of the ring he still has to buy by the end of tomorrow.

    Peter’s spidey-senses start humming at the same time that Wade shouts that he saw a young man and a suspicious older woman in an alley shortcut. They easily stop the woman from assaulting the poor teen before she could try with the element of surprise on their side, then they escort him back to a more populated area where it should be safer. Both Peter’s and Wade’s stomachs growl at the scent of sandwiches, so they go in and order enough for an army before and climbing up to the nearest rooftop to take a very-much-needed food break. They sit down and start digging in.

    Peter weighs the options of buying an engagement ring as Spiderman and risking outing his plans to everyone before he gets to properly propose to Wade, or somehow taking time out of their NHPC day plans (do nothing except go out to buy cheap candy together, cuddle, and munch on said candy) to buy a ring without being suspicious to the man whose job has always been finding people who don’t want to be found out.

    “Hey Wade?”

    Wade hums around his food and scoots more into Peter’s lap in lieu of a real response.

    “I was thinking we could do something slightly different than usual tomorrow?” Peter leans a bit to the side to get a better view of Wade’s reaction. It isn’t a negative one, but it’s also not positive.

    “Why? What’s up?” he asks once he swallows his food.

    Peter shuffles a bit. “Well, I was thinking, since candy isn’t usually the only thing that’s half-priced tomorrow, we could maybe split up for, let’s say, an hour or two? Just to buy a cute present for each other or something–”

    Wade’s excited gasp interrupts Peter. “Like those little stuffed animals that go right into clearance after Valentines? Or those super soft blankets and socks!” Wade squeals and waves his hands, flinging sandwich bits everywhere. “Petey-baby! You are brilliant! Like, I knew that already, but you’re just proving what we all already know! Even the boxes agree! Although, Yellow’s idea of a present is too close to Yandere simulator, but White thinks going down to Coney Island would be cool! But I don’t even think the rides are even open this early in the year. Besides! I just told you about it! So it isn’t a surprise anymore!” He points a finger high in the air and announces loudly, “Disqualified!”

    Peter smiles as he absently listens to Wade go on and on about present-buying tomorrow. Now he just needs to find the perfect ring online and pick it up at the store. If he can’t find the perfect one on such short notice, he doubts Wade will mind if he got a unicorn plushie and a very soft blanket instead. The ring and proposal doesn’t have to be rushed, as much as Peter really wants it to be. How could he not, when his fiance would be a sarcastic asshole and secret sweetheart like Wade Winston Wilson?

    Now the only important question left is, would it be Peter Wilson, Wade Parker, or Peter and Wade Wilson-Parker, or Parker-Wilson?

•◊•◊•◊•◊•

~> Next

•◊•◊•◊•◊•

[michael-langdon-appreciation]

Are we getting the twin fic anytime soon? please feed me ma'am I'm starving

Here is is! The next update in the twins story. It became a mix of many things we all talked about and this was the end result. I kinda feel it needs a Part 2 but we shall see heh heh.

There are some time-jumps which are broken up with ---

ALSO BE WARNED THERE IS SMUT IN THIS FIC INVOLVING OUR SWEET JEFFREY HARMON! 

😇😇😇

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

Jeffrey had always been admired. His golden hair shimmering halo-like, complete with sinfully vibrant eyes that knows the deepest desires of your heart. People followed him almost without regard, brazenly. Unlike the narrow-minded dolts at Hawthorne who saw Michael’s power as being the epitome of success, once on the surface again away from that primitive hollow, Jeffrey’s true beauty could the bloom. 

It was only a matter of time before someone couldn’t resist his brother’s draw. Someone would want to pluck Jeffrey’s ripeness, to taste his plump lips and devour his innocence. Michael noticed firstly how Orion lingered too long during meetings. Jeffrey’s attendance at Kineros was so incredibly rare there was even a rumour going round the company that the Antichrist had no brother. The white-wearing male was a facade, a projection created by Michael himself to throw everyone off. To ensure their loyalty was firmly with Satan. Perhaps out of ignorance or determination, Orion didn’t ever notice Michael’s eyes burning into his back. 

It was all just so simple. 

Orion would hand Jeffrey his tea complete with no sugar but so much milk to almost completely dilute the golden colour. 

Just how Jeffrey liked it.

‘No sugar again?’ The Angel would smile, his eyes soft as the cup and saucer are placed before him. 

‘You’re sweet enough.’ Orion would remark, the back and forth completely cliched. 

Michael’s fists clench under the long, obsidian table. The latex squeaks and that is enough for Orion to pick up on the taste of danger Michael sends wafting over to him. The young designer straightens and drops himself in a seat next to Mutt.

‘Move.’ Michael’s voice commands, his displeasure still obvious. 

There’s a beat as the entire boardroom wonders who the Antichrist is referring to. Jeffrey’s laugh tinkles round the room, ‘Let’s not be petulant, brother.’ He cautions, ‘Everyone is here for you.’ 

‘Are they?’ Michael’s eyes sweep across every face, ‘Is everyone here for me, or my father?’ 

The mood is sickening. Jeffrey shrinks away, trying to make himself as small as possible. 

‘Dude, we totally respect you.’ It’s Jeff who speaks up, ‘You’re awesome, bro.’ 

‘Yeah. Fuck the planet.’ Mutt echoes, going as far as to stand up. ‘Blow it all to fucking pieces.’

The room joins in at once, everyone murmuring their dedication to the Antichrist and the plan. Orion however, remains quiet. He nods along enthusiastically, but his eyes dart helplessly to Jeffrey. 

Michael’s revulsion deepens. 

What the fuck does he know? 

                                                           ---

Michael held off on his concerns, more due to being far too busy to corner Jeffrey’s admirers. He didn’t think anything of it, till words flitted into his ears as he passed the break room. ‘He’s just so stunning isn’t he? There’s a real mystique and power there but it’s so subtle.’ He paused, Michael more than eager to have his ego stroked. 

‘Personally I’d like to see him get down and dirty.’ A woman whispers back, ‘See him in something other than white.’

His stomach curls. They’re talking about Jeffrey.

His Jeffrey.

‘Don’t get me started.’ Orion agrees, ‘I’d kill to see what’s underneath him. What really makes him tick.’

Michael can’t listen to anymore. He strides towards his office, the doors flinging open without his touch. Jeffrey jumps, closing Michael’s laptop lid, ‘You gave me a fright.’

‘Grow up.’ Michael snaps, ‘You should be used to me by now.’ 

Jeffrey’s eyes glint as he catches on to his brother’s mood, ‘I am.’ He agrees, ‘All too well after so many years, Michael.’ The Antichrist sweeps into one of his office chairs, sinking down and letting the chair swing round. Jeffrey watches from Michael’s desk, ‘I’m not the person to ask to deal with someone, if you’re struggling yourself.’ 

‘I’m not.’

‘Right.’

Michael stops swinging, ‘Why do people like you?’

A smile winds up Jeffrey’s face, making Michael want to slap it off at once. ‘Because I treat people with respect. With kindness.’

‘So did I!’ Michael is on his feet at once, bearing over his brother. ‘And what did it get me? My Mrs Mead dead. The Warlocks dead-’

Jeffrey looks away, his hands dropped into his lap. ‘This isn’t about me really, is it?’

Michael swallows, ‘You have…admirers here.’ 

‘Well that makes a change.’ 

‘What does that mean?

Jeffrey pushes away from the desk, his white shirt today is sheer revealing his toned body underneath. ‘Did I ever once complain at Hawthorne, when you had your band of merry followers hanging on your every word, tainting our room with the stench of sweat?’

‘You didn’t have to say anything.’ Michael retorts, ‘Your disdain was evident in your looks. Why do you think we ended up in the library so often?’

‘Oh how considerate of you.’ Jeffrey gushes, but the ice is plain in his voice. ‘May I remind you I don’t have to be here.’ 

That has Michael backing down, ‘No.’ He admits, ‘No you don’t.’

‘But I am. Because I love you.’ 

‘Love you too.’ Michael repeats it back automatically.

Jeffrey’s fingers ghost over Michael’s shoulder, ‘I like hearing you say it. It’s been a while since I heard that.’

‘Starving makes you see what’s important.’ Michael says, ‘Who is important.’ 

Jeffrey’s hands cup either side of Michael’s face, those eyes so similar to Michael’s own swim before him. The Angel is on his knees before him, ’You will always be the most important person in my life.’ 

‘Will I?’

‘You have to let me speak to people. You have everyone here. You have your Mrs Mead back now. Who do I have?’

Michael knows he has a point, ‘Be careful?’

‘I promise.’ 

                                                           ---

It brings Michael out of his slumber, a breathy sound that a normal human wouldn’t be able to hear. Michael’s senses sharpen as he zeroes in on what he can hear, shuffling of feet, the sound of something dropping onto the floor. 

Moans. 

He pads quietly on bare feet across his bedroom and opens the door. Michael makes sure not to make a sound as he leans over the railings and peers down into the living room below. The sight before him burns. Jeffrey’s shirt is on the floor, the column of his throat peppered with dark bruises and hickies. A tongue works a new one into his skin as Michael’s little brother squirms in delight.

‘Oh God.’ He moans sacrilegious sin into the air as Orion drags their lips back together. 

Jeffrey’s hands run all over the designer, through his hair and down his chest as Jeffrey works open the buttons. 

He’s divine like this, full of abandonment as Jeffrey embraces the taste and flavour of his first sexual encounter. Michael sinks down with his back to the railings, he can’t keep watching can he? That wouldn’t be right? But Jeffrey’s eagerness is more than prevalent as the sound of movement alerts Michael again.

When he peeks round, Michael’s eyes widen. 

Jeffrey is pressed over the kitchen countertops, his cheek against the cool marble. ‘Please.’ He begs, ‘I need it. I’ve craved you to touch me and make me sing.’

‘I will, sweetness.’ Orion vows, ‘You’re so beautiful. Thank you for giving me this.’ 

‘Michael can’t ever know.’ Jeffrey pleads, ‘I want to be with you, but if he knew….he wouldn’t forgive me.’ 

So now they keep secrets from each other? Michael knows he doesn’t have a good track record, but never in his life has he concealed a part of himself from his brother. Jeffrey knows everything, he’s been there through everything up until Michael’s sojourn into the forrest. Was that the moment that changed them irrevocably? Did Jeffrey’s decision to remain behind, to not chase after hhis brother for the first time in their lives create a chasm that Michael can never bridge? What else doesn’t he know about his brother? Jeffrey knows the most intimate details of Michael’s life. His twin and only his twin knows how Michael only hurt the cats because they lashed out and scratched him first. He must have been holding them too tight and now Jeffrey knows Michael won’t go near any innocent animal. Jeffrey knows Michael only tolerates French Toast because Mrs Mead thought it was his favourite and he doesn’t have the heart to tell her it isn’t. Even to this day. He doesn’t realise he’s crying till the tears are flooding down Michael’s cheeks. 

Jeffrey, how could you? 

‘He doesn’t own you.’ Orion says, tugging Jeffrey’s trousers down. The intruder mouths kisses over Jeffrey’s spine and across the inside of the Angel’s thighs. ‘You can do as you wish.’ Jeffrey’s thighs almost flutter at the affection. He begs for more, taking every sweet ripple of pleasure Orion gives him. Jeffrey allows himself to be selfish, to demand that he become submerged in sensation. ‘You know that, right?’ Orion presses him, his eyes lifting to look into Jeffrey’s. 

Michael too waits for the answer.

Jeffrey struggles, but one more kiss from Orion and his mouth is running. ‘He’s so innocent though.’ Jeffrey’s lost in this new world Orion is opening up for him. ‘He likes to make out he’s the big bad one but he’s so scared. Underneath it all…he needs someone to love him. He needs my love, if he knows my heart has turned to you…’

Orion murmurs against Jeffrey’s lips, ‘I don’t plan to get in his way.’ 

‘You already have done.’ Jeffrey whispers, but Michael still catches every word of betrayal. ‘Because you chose to love me.’

‘I do love you.’ Orion agrees, standing and unbuttoning his fly. ‘I’ve loved you since I first saw you float into that boardroom. I lost all train of thought, couldn’t finish presenting my idea.’ 

‘It was a good pitch.’ Jeffrey whines, spreading his legs to give Orion room to make himself at home. 

‘No more talking.’ The designer murmurs, ‘I’m gonna take you now. I’ll be slow, gentle.’ 

‘No!’ Jeffrey’s head turns like lightning to make eye contact with his lover. ‘I’m tired of gentle. I can take more than people think. I can do it.’ 

Michael doesn’t want to hear more. He picks himself up from the upstairs landing and throws himself on his bed. He clutches his pillow tight to his chest as the tears pour from his eyes and his chest shakes and everything around him is blurred and hot and stings. His chest howls with pressure and pain, just as it had those four days he’d spent alone. Losing his Mrs Mead when the world was just too cruel for him and all Michael had wanted to do was to gouge out his own heart and every muscle and organ responsible for giving him emotions. He prays to his father to abolish him of feeling. To take away the hurt and the lies people feed to him and leave him with an empty cavity. 

It has to be better than this.

He can’t keep being betrayed by a brother who despises him enough to give his heart to another so freely.

Who the FUCK did that designer think he was? To take away Jeffrey Harmon from him? From the Antichrist? 

The sounds of sex rise up from below, like demons chanting their verses in Michael’s ears. He can hear every grunt, every thrust and hitch as Jeffrey cries out when Orion clearly bottoms out. Michael flings his pillow over his head. He can’t leave without Jeffrey knowing and his twin believes he’s working late tonight. Jeffrey would never think Michael might want some time with his brother. No, he must work and work and work and work and work. Michael must bring about the apocalypse and Michael must continue to devote his entire life for a world he doesn’t fully believe in. Hatred fuels his actions, revenge and mutiny against those fucking witches. 

He’s not scared. 

He’s the Antichrist. 

Clarity covers Michael as he rolls onto his back. The lovemaking continues but Michael’s mind is working overtime. 

Was this Cordelia’s fault too? 

She took his Mrs Mead and the warlocks…but what did she say to Jeffrey? 

Did she poison his own twin against him? Is Cordelia fucking Goode the reason why Jeffrey is in the arms of a stranger, someone they don’t even know. Giving his sacred virginity away to some fake-glasses wearing fucker? Is that why Jeffrey no longer comes to visit Michael? He gets the notifications from security that his brother is at Kineros, but Jeffrey rarely visits him anymore. 

So….why is he there? 

What is he doing?

Is he using those times to see Orion? To hook-up with him and fuck in Michael Langdon’s dominion? 

When did his priorities change from Michael….to another? 

He dials Mrs Mead immediately and the robot picks up on the second ring, ‘We need to pay a visit to Dinah Stevens tomorrow.’ Michael’s eyes blaze, but his lips curl into a smirk of victory. Oh he’ll make that supreme bitch pay for taking his twin from him. He listens to Mrs Mead bluster on till he cuts over her, ‘Pick me up at 7am tomorrow. She’ll know how we can get into that coven and blow them all to fucking pieces.’ 

He ends the call only to hear silence. It’s over. They’ve finished for now. 

Michael removes the pillow from his head and finally lets his body relax back into the bed. He’s exhausted, drained and most definitely sacking off work tomorrow.

Tomorrow is a day for him.

Tomorrow he’ll end the witches and then, perhaps if he’s feeling particularly vengeful he’ll end the day by slitting Orion’s throat. 

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Tag List: @michael-langdon-owns-my-soul @langdonsinferno @pastel-cloudz @misslanabananaa @lovelykhaleesiii @lostin-fern @lvngdvns @ccodyfernn @asstichrist @yourkingcodyfern @langdonsdemon @satcnas @russianspacegeckosexparty @rosy-pugs @luxuryglitterhoe @langdonsoceaneyes @sodanova @petersfern-fics @avesatanormalpeoplescareme @sassylangdon @confettucini @sammythankyou @wroteclassicaly @Sloppy-Wrist @Langdonalien @alexcornerblog @sevenwondr @queencocoakimmie @sojournmichael @langdonsdemon @satcnas @kinlovecody​ @kylosbabe @americanhorrorstudies @xxpixiefromdixiexx @elenareginaauditore @dadddysprincessss @gremlinkween @readsalot73 @astir-bread @i-will-die-for-jim-mason @ms-mead @mega-combusken @hanhanxx @kahhlo @thelangdoncooperative @langdonsrapture @ritualmichael @cryptid-coalition @sloppy-little-witch-bitch26 @infernal-langdon @jim-mason2 @jimmlangdon @xtheinevitableprophecyx @moontheweirdpan @moonlit-void-to-the-far-unknown @bbyduncan @divinelangdon @theladynymph @xlangdons-evilbabygirlx @divinelangdon @tigers-pat​ @codyswhore-blog @blakewaterxx @cocosfern @gold-dragon-slayer​ @ladynuwanda

[crossbows-and-moonshine]

That’s What You Get (DarylxReader)

Can I request an imagine where Daryl is secretly in love with you and only Rick and Carol know but he's been avoiding you cuz he thinks you like Glenn and he blows up one day cuz Rick and Carol is pushing him to tell you and you overhear everything

Warnings; fluff, angst.

If you want me to add you on the taglist, let me know. 

That’s what you get when you let your heart win. Woaaaaaaah. *Dances* Anyone else get that in their head when you read the title? Just me? Okay... lolololol

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

You made your way over with your bowl of stew to the table outside the prison, the place was bustling with life with the people from Woodbury now there. You were one of them, the new additions, but you had been there a decent time now to feel like a part of the group. You sat down next to Daryl and shot him a smile, but he just glanced at you before continuing to eat his food.

“This is great Daryl, thanks for catching the deer.” You said softly, he just grunted before taking his bowl, getting up and walking off. You heaved a sigh and looked down to your food forlornly.

“What did I do this time?” You whined, causing Glenn to snort as he sat opposite you.

“He’ll warm up to you eventually don't worry.” He grinned. You and Glenn had become pretty close since you got here, he was like a brother to you and you seemed to spend most of your time with him.

You had no idea why Daryl didn't like you. Ever since you got here you had tried your hardest to get to know everyone, to work hard and be a part of the group. But Daryl was the only one who seemed to not like you and you didn't know why. Anytime you'd try to talk to him, he would just grunt or nod, or even sometimes just get up and walk off, like now. You didn't know if you had some kind of Daryl repellent you were unaware of but it was making you feel like crap. You actually liked him, you didn't know him well but you heard a lot of things and you saw him and what he did for the group. He provided, he protected, you thought he was amazing, he was always so humble about it too, never liking praise or not seemingly being able to see just how important he was in the group. 

You finished your food quietly, wondering what you could do to break the ice, to finally get him to talk to you. You settled on just leaving it, you had seen he had a temper and you really had no desire to be on the receiving end of it. If he didn't like you, then he didn't like you, you’d just have to deal with it.

Daryl walked into the prison feeling on edge and antsy. He hated being around you. But it wasn't because he didn't like you, it was the opposite. Ever since you came here you seemed to be everywhere and he could never seem to take his eyes off you. Always watching what you were doing, making sure you were safe. He had even refused to let you on runs because he didn't want you outside the gates where the danger was, but you were unaware of that. But he saw the way you were with Glenn, how you always laughed, were always around him, it filled him with rage and a feeling he wasn't quite used to. He sat down inside where Rick and Carol were talking and they glanced at him as his leg bobbed about and he chewed his thumb.

“For Gods sake Daryl, just tell her!” Carol chided, she loved Daryl and she wanted him to be happy. She had seen the way you looked at him and she knew if he actually spoke to you, it could be good, yet he seemed to avoid you at all costs. Daryl shot her a dirty look, he hated how his best friends had worked out his feelings for you. They were constantly telling him to tell you and he was getting sick of it. Like hell, he was going to open his big mouth and make a dick of himself, not a chance in hell.

“Just drop it alright?” He snapped, glaring at the pair.

“She likes you man, just tell her, you’ll feel better.” Rick encouraged with a weary smile, but Daryl could feel his temper flaring.

“Ain’t none of ya damn business.” He huffed, shaking his head as he picked the dirt from his nails as a distraction.

“It is our business Daryl because we care about you. You’ve withdrawn so much because of this, because it's driving you crazy.” Carol sighed with a frown.

“I said drop it alright?! Y/n doesn't like me that way, so there's no way in hell I’m telling her I fuckin’ like her! She likes Glenn so get the fuck over it!” He growled before standing up and storming off to his perch upstairs.

You stood there near the door with your jaw slack, you hadn't been seen and you slipped back outside as what you just heard digested in your brain. Daryl liked you, that's why he was being weird, and he thought you wouldn't feel the same. And for some weird reason he thought you liked Glenn, you were baffled honestly. You felt the butterflies bloom in your belly as you tried to work out how to tell him you knew, without him chewing your ear off and making things worse.

A few days went by and you had barely seen Daryl, it seemed like he was avoiding you even more. He was sat in the fields stabbing the knife into the grass, you noticed he did that a lot, he'd sometimes just sit there and you wondered what was going on in that complicated brain of his. You took a breath to try and brace yourself, he would probably kick your ass, but you had to try. You walked over to him and sat down facing him, he looked at you with a frown and looked ready to get up. He was stopped though when you placed a bunch of bolts in front of him, hand made of out wood, you had worked hard the past couple of days.

“What's this?” He asked gruffly, they were the first words he ever spoke to you and honestly, it was a stupid fucking question.

“Uh...Bolts...I made them, I know you could use some more. Consider it my peace offering.” You grinned at him, he looked at you suspiciously before picking one up and inspecting it. You held your breath waiting for him to tell you they were shit, instead he nodded, seemingly satisfied and set it back down.

“Thanks.” He rasped, chancing a glance at you. When you smiled at him he felt his stomach feel weird and he looked down.

“Okay look, I thought you hated me honestly, but I heard you, with Rick and Carol. And I know you’ll be mad, but for what it's worth, I like you too. So any time you wanna just talk or whatever, you know where my cell is. Also, I don’t like Glenn like that, he’s like my brother.” You smiled softly before standing up and walking away. You knew he would feel too uncomfortable for you to stay after saying that and you wanted to give him space. That and also get out of the vicinity in case he exploded with his Dixon temper. Daryl sat there stunned, he wasn't mad you heard him, he was too shocked to be anything at that moment as he stared at the bolts you had made him. It made him feel all funny that you had done something like that for him, that you had told him you liked him.

The next night you were sat in bed reading a book Carol had leant you, it wasn't the best but it passed the time. There wasn't much to do now the world had gone down the shitter. You couldn't watch tv or listen to music, the world had changed. You wouldn't say it was boring, there was always something going on. But running from the dead and trying to survive wasn't the kind of excitement that you were after, so books would have to do. You hadn’t seen Daryl all day and you wondered if you had made things worse between you, but you decided to just let things be. Your eyes looked up over the book when you saw the blanket you had draped over the cell door open a little and your eyes widened a little to see Daryl peaking in, you hadn't really expected him to seek you out.

“You can come in.” You smiled as you closed the book and set it down. Daryl opened the door and closed it behind him, stood there chewing his thumb like he didn't know what to do with himself.

“You can sit down, you won't get cooties.” You smirked, he stopped chewing his thumb for a second as he squinted at you and scoffed, but his lips were quirked up telling you he found you amusing, it made you feel all fuzzy inside that you made Daryl Dixon smile. He sat on the end of your bed and he was fidgety, you knew this was hard for him, you saw how he was with people, he didn't let people get close and he wasn't much for being social.

“I used the bolts before, worked real good.” He murmured quietly, you couldn't help the smile that spread on your face.

“That's awesome, I was worried I made them wrong.” You admitted sheepishly. He looked at you then, you were in an oversized shirt sat with the blanket around you, the shirt fell off one of your shoulders and his eyes were drawn to it for a moment before he looked back at your face.

“Did ya mean what ya said yesterday?” He asked bluntly, just wanting to get it out of the way. 

“Of course I did. I’d really like to get to know you better, instead of you ignoring me.” You said wryly, making him look down bashfully. You didn't know if you were seeing things but you were pretty sure the tips of his ears went pink.

“Yeah...sorry about that.” He apologized. You snorted a little and shook your head.

“Don't worry about it, you’re here now, so that's a start.” You grinned. He looked at you warily like he didn't fully trust you though.

“Why? Why do ya like me out of everyone?” He asked, he looked genuinely confused and you resisted the urge to shake some sense into him.

“Because you're a good man Daryl. And it doesn't hurt that you're hot as hell.” You smirked.

“Yeah right.” He scoffed, looking down once again and blushing.

“Don't make me hit you, I know I’m small but I pack a mean punch.” You teased getting a small laugh from him, you felt like you had been graced with the best gift from God at the sound.

“I look like one of them trolls that live under a bridge.” He huffed with a wry smirk and you grabbed the book and threw it at him, hitting him in the chest. 

“Ow!” He complained, glaring at you playfully as he rubbed his chest, you just smirked smugly at him.

“That's what you get. Its aversion therapy, every time you say something bad about yourself and I hear you, I’m gonna hit you. Soon enough you’ll learn to stop.” You grinned cheekily, he shook his head and smiled, glancing at you. It felt so weird for him, that you liked him, that anyone did. But you, the girl he had seemingly become infatuated with actually liked him back and he wasn't sure what planet he had woke up on.

“You’re a violent little thing huh?” He teased, you flashed him a toothy grin in response.

“Only when I need to be.” You snorted.

“Guess I better behave myself then.” He relented playfully, giving you another half smile, every time he did that your stomach flipped around on you. He stayed in your cell for hours as you both talked and got to know each other, teasing playful banter as you did, and with each passing minute, you both relaxed and found it easier to just talk to each other. You had no idea where this was heading but you enjoyed his company and he seemed to be opening up to you. You hoped one day he would let you in completely.

Taglist; @risingphoenix761 @daryldixonandfrogs @arlaina28 @divadinag

[goddessofthundathighs]

I. O’SHEA THE INSATIABLE

Evan, aka Disappointment #3 in O’Shea’s phone, panted over her, sweat dripping onto her face. The bed shook and the headboard clapped loudly against the wall. His eyes were screwed shut, his breathing heavy and his grunts gorilla-like. O’Shea looked out from under his arm into his slim floor-length mirror. Her face was of pure disappointment. This was punishment dick. She was punishing herself with weak dick because she'd scared away another real prospect, Damien Jones. Damien was 6’2, chocolate with tattoos, a bright smile, a good job, and better taste in shoes. All of those things rarely came together well. It was smooth sailing until she let Bennie out of the cage. Who was Bennie? Bennie was the unquenchable demon between her thighs. She remembered that fateful night in vivid detail.

“Wait, wait!” the man called out in a panicked voice. He and O’Shea had been going at it for almost two hours and after 5 Earth-shattering orgasms, she was still begging him for more.

“You gotta calm down babygirl. Give me a second, dick machine broke.”

“What you mean broke?” she inquired, crossing her arms over her chest. “We haven’t seen each other in two weeks, Damien. The dick machine should be primed and prepped for go time.”

“It was, two hours ago. You gotta let me rest.” She groaned in exasperation as her small body flopped back down against her satin pillowcase.

“Daddyyyy,” she whined in the innocent voice she knew he couldn’t resist. “Just let me suck it one more time and I promise I’ll be done.” He raised one eyebrow, not sure if he believed her or not, but quickly lost that train of thought once he felt her tongue licking a long stripe up the underside of his shaft. That one little action lead to two more hours and countless more orgasms until he pinned her to the bed to stop her from touching him again.

“I don’t know what’s gotten into you girl, but you dangerous.” She only giggled in response, knowing that it was no longer her that was running the show. Bennie had been present and accounted for ever since he called her his little nasty bitch as she sucked him off on the drive back to her house. As they pulled up to her place, Damien let out a heavy sigh puffing his cheeks as he released himself in the back of her throat.

“Yo, we gotta cool off for a minute,” Damien stated once the car had stopped moving.

“Why?” O’Shea questioned, thoroughly confused.

“You’re a real cool girl with one of the dopest personalities I’ve encountered in a while, but your sex drive is way too damn high and if I’m being honest, it’s a little unattractive.”

“Unattractive?! Most niggas would kill for a woman to serve pussy up on a silver platter anytime and anyplace.”

“Yeah, but I’m not most niggas. See you around.” With that, he sped off into the California sunset, leaving O’Shea somehow even more horny than before.

Evan finished with a loud grunt, spilling himself into the condom. Finally, O’Shea thought to herself. Before she could fix her lips to ask him to drive her home, he was asleep, passed out beside her like he’d just worked a 15-hour shift at a Nissan plant. Shea rolled her eyes as she pulled her clothes back on and waited for the Lyft back to her apartment. This would definitely be their last encounter.

--

“Why you so uptight?” Skylar asked O’Shea as she drug her feet into the toy shop. Dr. Skylar Greene was an expert in the female anatomy and owned the biggest adult toy store in California. She’d hired O’Shea to be the creative director to her new sex toy line.

“I’m just sick of whack niggas delivering whack dick. I haven’t had a decent orgasm in months and it’s not from lack of trying.”

“Have you seen a therapist?”

“I’m not crazy, Sky.”

“No one said you were. Here, go see my best friend. If he can’t cure you, then you’re a lost cause.” With that, Skylar handed Shea a business card and wandered to the back of the store saying something about inventory. O’Shea twirled the card in her hand for a bit before sticking it in her pocket. She’d make an appointment later.

Before Shea knew it, it was almost midnight and she was still huddled at her design table in the back of the shop. Skylar had liked the idea of a ribbed toy so much that she had her start designing the prototype asap. She yawned and stretched before grabbing her purse and keys and heading out the door, sure to lock up behind her. Morning came and she found herself still in the clothes she wore to work the previous day. After a quick shower and the rest of her morning rituals, she fished the business card out of her jacket pocket and dialed the number.

“Dr. Stevens’ office, how can I help you?” a young woman called from the other end of the receiver. O’Shea took a deep steadying breath before speaking.

“Yes, my name is O’Shea Powell and I’d like to make an appointment.”

“Oh, yes, Ms. Powell. Dr. Greene has already spoken to Dr. Stevens and if you’re free this afternoon, he has a 1:00 appointment slot open.” Gee, thanks Sky.

“That’s perfect, I’ll be there.”

“Alrighty, Ms. Powell. See you this afternoon.” With that, O’Shea sauntered to her closet to find something to wear. She settled on a black bandeau top with black leggings and her black So Kate Louboutins. She completed the look with tan duster and her black Prada sunglasses. She wanted to look sexy, but not desperate. She followed the directions to his office, noting that it was approximately 10 minutes from the toy store. Guess these two really are close. She parked her Porche in the designated area before making the journey to the 11th floor. The secretary greeted her immediately.

“Ms. Powell?”

“Yes?”

“Good afternoon, I’m Harper, Dr. Stevens’ secretary. Dr. Greene is already inside and they’re expecting you.” O’Shea nodded and walked into the lavish office. It was decorated in all black with gold and white accents. African-themed art littered the east and west walls of the office while his degrees and photos of him and Skylar occupied the wall behind his desk. He sat atop the desk dressed in navy blue slacks and a white button up. A navy bow tie and navy Louis Vuitton loafers completed the look. His dreads were neatly braided to the back of his head and gold wired glasses adorned his face. Skylar had mentioned how good looking her best friend was, but she neglected to mention that he looked as though God and all of the angels handmade him, taking their time to make sure that he was perfect.

“Ms. Powell, nice of you to join us.” His voice caused an instant flood in her panties. It was deep and rich like bourbon. She smiled sweetly at him, before sending a look to Skylar. The two were definitely going to have a talk about this later.

“Well, I’ll let you two get to know one another. See you at work tomorrow, Shea,” Sky teased before sauntering out of the office. She knew she’d made the right decision in recommending O’Shea to Erik. He, like herself, was an expert in sex and the female anatomy and he just so happened to be single. She knew that if his treatment was successful, not only would Shea be saved from wack dick, but she’d also have a lifetime companion.

“So what brings you in today, Ms. Powell?”

“What, you mean Sky didn’t tell you?”

“Oh no, she did, but I’d like to hear it from your mouth.”

“Well, as of late I’ve been having trouble achieving orgasms. I know what I like and I know all of the things necessary to get me to that point, but nothing seems to be working. I’ve scared off all of my usual dick appointments because they say that my sex drive is too high and it’s unattractive, which I find absolutely ridiculous.” Erik nodded as she explained, occasionally writing things down in his notepad.

“Toys?”

“Tried almost every toy known to man, including ones I’ve personally designed.”

“What are your kinks, Ms. Powell? What turns you on?” O’Shea smiled a devilish smile before answering.

“Well, to be honest, I like a lot of things.”

“Elaborate.”

“Well, I like choking, dubious consent, saliva or spitting in my mouth and pussy, ddlg, voyeurism, edging and orgasm denial, collaring, face fucking, cream pies, blasphemy, and any and all forms of public sex just to name a few.”

“Blasphemy?” He asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Yes. Being that inappropriate things turn me on, I’m super big on religion play, sex in church and sex while wearing religious paraphernalia.”

“Oh so you nasty nasty?” He inquired with a smile, his gold bottom canines peeking from behind his full bottom lip.

“You could say that.”

“And what about name calling?”

“Degradation can be very sexy when done right, Dr. Stevens.” He nodded with a smirk as he wrote more notes.

“So you like to be called a little nasty bitch and shit like that?” He asked, looking up from his notebook. It took all of her willpower not to moan out loud. There was something about the way her favorite pet name fell from his lips coupled with the way he looked at her that made her core heat.

“Y-Yes,” she replied, her voice much more shaky than she intended.

“Don’t get all shy now,” he teased. “You’ve already told me what a little nasty bitch you are, might as well keep talking.” His voice dropped an octave and O’Shea was ready to drop her panties. Though she knew he was triggering her on purpose, she allowed it.

“I’ve got something I want you to try,” he spoke, reaching behind him while still holding her gaze. “My cousin designed this toy in Wakanda. It’s been tested to make its user cum within the first 30 seconds of use when paired with this lubricant. I want you to use it and report back to me in a week, understand?”

“Yes Da— Dr. Stevens.” He chuckled, his voice still deep and seductive.

“I can be Daddy if you want me to be, Ms. Powell, but it’ll cost you.”

“Cost me what?” she inquired, completely turned on and close to cumming from just his conversation.

“You’ll find out if this doesn’t work for you,” he retorted with a wink and a sly smirk. “Until then, this is your prescription and I expect you to fill it. Each and every inch of it,” he said, placing his index finger under her chin to guide her gaze back to his.

“Can you do that for me?” She nodded.

“Words, Princess.”

“Yes, Dr. Stevens.” Her voice was soft and needy, a sure sign that she was close.

“Good girl,” he purred, ghosting his lips over hers. “See you next week. Harper, send in my next client,” he said into the intercom system, pulling O’Shea from her trance. She could already tell that this wouldn’t be the last she saw of the good doctor.

—————————

@ledouxange7 @vikkidc @bartierbakarimobisson @raysunshine78 @amethyst1993 @trevantesbrat @kaykay0829 @thadelightfulone @sydneebleu @forbeautyandlife @tntnv @chaneajoyyy @jozigrrl @madamslayyy @iamrheaspeaks @mareethequeen @thehomierobbstark @whatmoredoyouwantamericaa @yaachtynoboat711 @blowmymbackout @youreadthatright @beaut1fulone-blog @bugngiz @amirra88 @chefjessypooh @post-woke @theogbadbitch @im5ftbutmythroat66 @queengodiva619

[sanjayyyy-13]

Frickle Frackle Time!

Bonjur! My fellow humans. This imagine was requested and you can obviously tell which ask this was from. It’s about the batboys and sexy time with them. Anyways, I hope you enjoy!

Bruce: 

Everyone thinks he’s really rough and dominate in bed but it’s not true. With you he’s very passionate and caring, sensitive even. He doesn’t like to just fuck, that’s not his style. He’s really loving and will take his time exploring every inch of your body and giving you all the love you deserve. He goes at a somewhat medium pace at the beginning and then tends to go super fast and deep when you both are about to finish.  

Bruce doesn’t do a lot of teasing but definitely won’t mind when you do it to him. You usually strip tease him just to test his control and to see if the Batman can resist himself. But if you have been teasing him for a long time he will push you on the bed and take his sweet time with you, leaving you a writhing, begging mess underneath him. Honestly, you teasing him is one of his turn ons.

After you guys are done, (basically after so many hours of the frickle frackle) he loves it when you both just cuddle with him spooning you. Bruce puts one hand over your body and the other plays with your hair as he whispers “I love you”. Usually it’s just pillow talk after that. You both fall asleep after that and it’s honestly very cute.  

Dick: 

Bro, this guy can go on for hours and hours. He is like a fricken bunny and can go on for so long. He has such a high libido and regardless of wherever or whenever he will always be down to do the dirty. He loves it when you are dominant because it just makes him feel really hot but don’t dismiss the fact that he can dominate you in a matter of seconds. He has a quick pace but won’t finish until you do.

This boy manipulates you into getting rough by teasing you. Whenever he’s making out with you he pulls back for a little bit to see your reaction. You always get pissed at him and he just smirks. Usually you push him on the bed so he has no way to escape and continue to kiss him. He loves it when you do that because it usually signifies that he’s gonna get treated real well tonight. This boy obviously has a leg kink and most definitely loves it when you wrap them around his waist. He also loves just stroking them and feeling how smooth and soft they are.

When you both finish (multiple times) he just places you on top of him and hugs you tightly to his chest. Your bare body on top of his usually gets him ready for another round. However when you both are tired out, he loves it when you lace your fingers with him and just chat about life. Usually he says “That was the best sex we ever had”. You roll your eyes as he chuckles and you give him a quick kiss and roll off of him to clean up. “Don’t go! You feel so good” he whines. “I’m having a shower Dick. But your always welcome to join me” you say seductively. As usual Dick eagerly leaves the bed and excitedly follows behind you. Man, the fucking never ends.

Jason: 

Oof, this guy is a sex god. He is so good at everything and is so fricken sexy. If he gives you that lusty look, your panties be dropping. This boy can go anytime and anywhere. He always feels horny in your opinion. When this guy is in bed he loves to dominate you. That’s just how he rolls. However he definitely loves it when you whisper to him “You’re gonna be my bitch tonight, Jay”. Those words always seem to rile him up. He has a slow and tantalizing pace at the beginning just to tease you, and then he finishes with deep and harsh pounds.

Jason has a variety of kinks that are hot and sexy. First off, he loves it when you send teasing pictures to him when he’s on patrol because he know the wait is totally worth it. Secondly, he loves it when you praise him during the frickle frackle, words such as “Oh, jay. You’re doing so great.” And “Damn, you are an animal” always make him happy and encourage him to go faster. Thirdly, he absolutely loves teasing you because it always gets you and him super horny. He usually slips his fingers down there very discreetly when you guys are in public. Lastly, he adores the noises you make. The whimpers and moans always send him over the edge.

After you guys are complete he loves watching you fall asleep even though you jokingly tell him how creepy that is. He just loves seeing you at peace because it brings out the happiness and joyfulness out of him. The way your eyelashes rest so peacefully on your cheek bones and your hair cascading on your face makes him fall deeper in love with you. Sometimes he gets really tired afterwards so he loves sleeping on top of you. His head resting on your chest and your fingers playing with his soft hair makes him fall asleep faster than any knockout poison.

Tim: 

Nobody would think it, but he is an animal in bed. He just sets a harsh and demanding pace that makes you shiver and beg underneath him. The thing with him is that he rarely has time for a good lovemaking session (ew, I can’t believe I wrote lovemaking) so he just likes to have a quick fuck and get on with his work. But whenever you coax him to stay with you and go for another round it is always mind blowing.

Timmy is just to sweet that I doubt he would tease you, but you on the other hand. You love to tease him because it just makes him a stuttering and horny mess. It will start with longing glances and then touches in some inappropriate spots. (If you want a full teasing explanation check out this imagine) It always gets him really horny. He doesn’t really have a lot of kinks but he does enjoy it when you wear sexy lingerie or strip tease for him.

Sometimes he doesn’t really have time to cuddle but he will stay with you long enough to satiate your needs. He usually goes back to work after a quick fuck. But on the occasion he will stay in bed with you and fall asleep in your arms because god knows when was the last time he actually closed his eyes.

Damian:

He is a really great partner in bed because of his dominant style and teasing manner. He always makes you feel like a goddess because he praises you and transports you on cloud nine. He give the best hickeys and he knows it. Your body is often littered with them after a long night. He always sets a consistent pace and usually never finishes before you do. However sometimes when he is really tired he relies on you to set a pace.

He definitely has his kinks. From breath play to blindfolds, he is willing to try everything to see what both you and him like. He loves it when you are tied up so he can control everything about you. Also he loves being blindfolded because it gives him a sense of trust and an edge because he never knows whats coming next. If he is feeling really horny he will tease you in public and you get the message that he wants you. However if you tease him on public he gets distracted on whatever he’s doing and makes you pay for it later on.

He is the most loving partner afterwards and always makes you feel comfortable. He loves cuddling with you and tracing words or patterns on your body. Damian especially loves it when your hair is freely washed and he smells the sweet shampoo as he plays with it. He often gives you massages afterwards and tries his hardest to make you feel safe and secure with him. Though he is a rough lover in bed he is a sweet, sensitive soul who will do anything to make you feel content.

[averyrogers83]

Tangled Dream

Title: Tangled Dream Parring: Stucky x Reader Rating: NSFW 18 Warnings: language, smut, fingering, anal and vaginal sex, threesome Summary:  You reveal to your friends Nat and Wanda that you had a sex dream about two Super Soldiers in confidence, or so you thought. Word Count: 2317 Square Filled: Kinky Confessions for @star-spangled-bingo and Stucky for @marvelbingo A/N: Real life reels its ugly head. Sorry for the extremely late submission for #thecap2challenge prompt: “Tell me you didn’t just admit that out loud.” Thanks to @shield-agent78 and @hotoffthepressfics for being my betas. Author: @averyrogers83

You woke up with quite the start, your breathing irregular, your mind disoriented, thinking what the hell just happened.  You never had that kind of dream before so you didn’t know exactly where it came from.  Well you kinda did. I mean look at the subject matter, two Super Soldiers in your company.  Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes, they are the epitome of Greek Gods, well next to Thor who was an actual god, but these two were your teammates. Captain of the Avengers and his best friend who never saw you more than just another Avenger, another agent fighting the good fight.  So where the hell did that dream come from.

You got ready for the day like you normally do, trying to shake off thoughts of the dream, but when you got to the common room where most of the team had already gathered, you couldn’t think straight.  Clint and Sam watched as you poured creamer in your cereal and orange juice in your coffee, clearly you had something on your mind, but they weren’t ones to pry.  Nat and Wanda noticed that something was off about you as well, when you just sat there staring at the bowl before you.

“What’s going on with you?” asked Nat, “clearly you’re not yourself this morning.”

“Noth...nothing’s wrong. I’m just tired” you yawned still staring at the bowl in front of you.

“Is that why you poured the hazelnut coffee creamer in your cereal.” Nat teased

“It’s because you’ve been….”

“Stay out of my mind, Maximoff!” You cut Wanda off before she could say anything more.

Clint and Sam had since left the table, leaving you, Nat, Wanda, and the two super soldiers left in the room.  With much reluctance and prying, you decide to quietly tell your friends what was going on.

“I had a dream last night”, you started

“Oh? What kind of dream?” inquired Nat, her ears perked up to full attention.

“You know, a dream that you don’t just casually bring up in mixed company.”  

It took several seconds before Nat and Wanda realized what kind of dream it was that you were referring to.

“You had a sex dream last night?” Exclaimed Wanda

“Really, I don’t think the people at the gun range heard you!” you winced, hoping beyond hope that the two men were too preoccupied in their own conversation to have heard.  

“Yes...Now can you keep it down,” you whispered

“I’m sorry, Y/N” Wanda looked sheepishly

“So tell us about this sex dream, I want to hear all about it.” You groaned at the thought of recapping your most intimate dream.

“Oh. My. Gosh, you two are so embarrassing” you let out a sigh, “fine, but you can’t tell anyone. Anyway I had a kinky sex dream about a certain super soldier.”  

“Tell me you did not just admit that out loud” Nat chuckled. “ So let me guess, Steve or Bucky. Or  Both!” Nat smirked

“Ye...yeah..wait what?! Why would you mention Bucky?!” You stumbled over your words.  Nat and Wanda knew you had a thing for the golden blonde hunk, but you never looked at Bucky in that way, that is until your dream last night.  

“Oh please, who else would it be about.  It’s so obvious that you’re into Steve, and I can’t say that I blame you.  He’s a good looking guy. Bucky ain’t half bad either.”

“No one else knows right?” you worried your bottom lip

“The guys are pretty much oblivious to that kind of thing.  You have to pretty much hit them over the head and tell them you’re into them.”  She had been referring to her relationship with Clint and how he didn’t seem to notice that Nat had a thing for him. That was until she finally came right out and told him.  Now they are together and happier than ever.

You proceeded to tell them some of the details of your dream, at least what you could remember and were willing to reveal, by the end the girls were left with their mouths hanging open and you feeling flushed again.  You cleaned up your mess and spent the rest of the day either on the range, in the gym, or in your room.

The next couple of days you couldn’t even look at Steve or Bucky.  Anytime they came into the room you found a reason to excuse yourself, during mission briefings you couldn’t even look at them and the minute the meeting was over you bolting out of the room.  Any chance you got to avoid either of them you did.   As much as you tried not to think about them during the day, they were all you could think about at night.

You were just getting out of the showever after a nice long session with the punching bag trying to get your mind off the increasing sexual tension you were feeling when your phone chimed alerting you of an incoming text.

Nat: Hey where are you?

Y/N: Just getting out of the shower, why?

Wanda: Did you forget about movie night?

“Shit.” you muttered to yourself. You had forgotten all about the team movie night that happened every Saturday unless you were either on a mission or Tony had decided to throw an impromptu party.  

Y/N: Yeah, I think I’m going to bail tonight I’m really tired.

Nat: Nope, you can’t bail.  Everyone is here waiting on you and Steve says we can’t start the movie until you get here.

Y/N: Can’t you just tell him I’m not feeling well?

Nat: You know you can’t keep avoiding the issue.

Y/N: What issue might that be, oh wise one?

You had just sent the text when you heard a knock at your door. You quickly got dressed thinking it was probably Sam or Clint whining about how you were taking too long to get to movie night so when you opened the door the last thing you expected was to see the same two people you had spent the week avoiding standing before you.

“Uh, hey...what are you guys doing here?” you asked averting your gaze from Steve and Bucky.

“Came to check up on you doll.” replied Bucky.

“Wh...yeah, um, I’m fine.” you stumbled over your words.  God he looked good, they both did in their sweatpants and shirts that looked two sizes too small showing off each and every muscle of their finely built bodies.

“So then why have you been avoiding us?” Steve’s concerned tone resonating in the air.  

“What do you mean..I haven’t been avoiding you. I’ve just been….” you studdered

“Look, sweetheart we’re worried about you.  You haven’t been yourself and you’ve clearly been avoiding Steve and me all week. What gives?”

“It’s nothing, I swear.” You try to get past them, but Bucky and Steve have blocked the doorway.

“Nope, not buying it.” Steve said as he crossed his arms, “you’re not leaving this room till you fess up and tell us why you’ve been avoiding us.”

“Later, right now everyone is waiting...movie night remember guys.” You try to get past them again.

“They can have movie night without us. Now are you going to tell us what’s going on?”

You became flustered and you could feel the heat in your face rising as you tried to figure out what to say.  You knew you had to tell them something or they wouldn’t leave you alone.  “Fine!” you resigned “I had a sex dream about you, happy now?!” You were embarrassed and mad and all you wanted to do was run out of the room and hide.  

Bucky and Steve gave each other a little smirk. They never let on that they had overheard the conversation between you, Nat, and Wanda.  Catching every sordid detail of your kinky dream, hoping they would get the chance to make your dream a reality.

“So...a sex dream” Bucky moved stepped closer towards you, causing your heart to race and you take a step back.  

“Going to elaborate, sweetheart.” Steve asked, as he stalked his way closer to you.

You suddenly felt like you were being stalked by two fierce animals hunting their prey as they pursued you till you were backed into a corner with no way out.

“I asked you a question Agent Y/L/N” Steve demanded as he pulled you away from the wall and stepped behind you pulling your back flush against his hard chest.  Bucky stood before you with lust filled eyes and you got weak in the knees.  God what have you gotten yourself into.

As much as you wanted to resist telling them your deepest desire you always wanted them to put your dream into motion.  You could also see by the look in their eyes that they weren’t going to let you go without finding out what you dreamt.

When you moved they moved, before you knew it, you were back in your bedroom and Bucky was slowly removing your clothing till you were left standing there completely vulnerable to the both of them.  You body had goosebumps from the sudden coolness you could feel from being naked and the anticipation of what could happen.  Before you could think about what could happen next Steve had taken the tie from your silk robe and tied your wrists together behind your back

“So are you going to tell us about this dream or will we have to find a way of making you tell us?” Steve growls in your ear, sending shivers down your spine.  You could already feel the heat building between your legs as Bucky closed the gap between you and began running his fingers lightly down your check then collarbone, then down to your heaving breasts.  He cupped your breast in his hand running his thumb over your hardened nipple, eliciting a pornographic moan from your lips.

Steve gently turns your head to look at him and captures your lips in a searing kiss while Bucky continues massaging your breasts with one had and the other is between your legs rubbing small circles on your clit.  You were puddy in their hands.  It was like they knew exactly what your dream had entailed without you uttering a word.  Slowly torturing you with their hands running up and down your body.  Their hot breath on your skin as each man would nip and lick from the crock of your neck, shoulders and all over your body making you melt into their arms.  If it wasn’t for the closeness of their bodies you would have been nothing more than a puddle on the floor.  

You gasped as you felt Steve move his hand over your ass and squeezed each cheek gently before slipping a finger in her tight hole, pumping in and out as Bucky did the same to your pussy.  Your hips moving in rhythm with each thrust, as you throw your arms behind your head reaching for Steve as you wrap your legs around Bucky’s waist, holding on for dear life as you bite down on your bottom lip till the metallic taste of blood was on your tongue.  You are so wet, already coming two or three times. In fact you had lost count. Your mind goes foggy causing you not to think straight.

You wanted them, no you needed them.  Needed both of them now to fuck you sensless and the two men could sense it.  You began to protest at the sudden loss of their fingers inside of you until you could feel the tips of their cocks begging for entrance.  You could only manage to nod your head yes telling them you were ready and with one quick thrust the two of them had thrust themselves deep inside of you.  All you could hear were their collective moans as they thrusted simultaneously into you over and over again until the three of you came as one.

Your legs felt like jello when your feet hit the floor, thankful that they guys still had a tight hold on your as your breathing regulated and heart began to slow to a steady beat.  Steve picked you up and laid you on the bed between him and Bucky cuddling close until the three of you drifted off to sleep.

You woke the next morning as the sun light began to drift through the curtain into your room.  You rubbed the sleep from your eyes and slowly opened them as you shook the fogginess from your head.  

Looking around the room you found yourself alone.  Your body ached, but you didn’t think much of it thinking it was just from over exerting yourself in the gym the day before.  You couldn’t help but feel a bit disappointed as you make your way to the kitchenette for a cup of coffee, your mind going through how that dream felt so real, lost in thought you hadn’t realized that Steve and Bucky were already in the kitchen making breakfast.  

“Hey sleepy head, was wondering when you were going to get up.” Bucky smiled.

“We made breakfast” Steve chimed in “thought you’d be hungry after last night.”

You looked from one man to the other confusion written all over your face.  Were you still dreaming? You opened and closed your mouth unable to say a word.  

“Am I still dreaming?”

Bucky and Steve exchanged glances and laughed.  “No, sweetheart. You’re not dreaming. Last night definitely happened.” Bucky replied.

Steve kissed your cheek as he sat in the next chair and Bucky sat across from you.  You ate your eggs in silence for a moment when it finally dawned on you.  “You guys heard me talking to Nat and Wanda didn’t you?” You could feel your cheeks reddening

“Super hearing remember.” Steve smirked. “Now eat up, we’ve got a lot of time to make up for.”  

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~THE END~~~~~~~~~~~

@buckysforeverprincess @ellaprime68 @chuuulip @thatfanficstuff @mychemicalimagines @dj-lowkey @hotoffthepressfics @shield-agent78 @bloodiedskirtts @patzammit @drakelover78 @quantumarvel 

[deadinsidedressage]

Emma’s Hot Tips on Leash-Training Your Fucking Cat

Hi, I’m emma... am I an animal expert? fucking no lol am I jackson galaxy???? lol fucking no do I have hot tips on leash-training your dumbass fucking cat. yes.  HERE ARE SOME HOT TIPS:

Don’t get a shit harness. This is number one because I think a lot of people lack success because they get a harness that isn’t going to work because they don’t want to spend money on a harness in case their cat “hates it”. Fuck that. I personally really like the Come with Me Kitty because it adjusts well to secure my fat piece of shit (actually he’s been on a diet and now he’s svelte) and I’ve never had either cat “wiggle out of it”. Also like make sure it’s adjustable or else you’re going to lose your cat and be really sad inside. Buy a good harness. Make sure it fits. STEP ONE COMPLETED. 

Is you harness Not Shit? Is it adjusted to you cat? Good. Now ACCLIMATIZE your cat to wearing the harness. Did you think you could just harness a cat and shove it outside and suddenly be a cat-walking madman? You FOOL. You absolute idiot. Put the harness on your cat and let your cat wear it in the house. I’d say it depends on your cat’s personality and ability to endure stupid things but start with 20 to 60 minutes of just harness wearing in the house so that they can get used to it. Most cats act like their back has been broken when the harness is on them for the first time, so let them figure out that a) it’s not and b) how to be a normal cat with a harness on ((because sometimes it’ll just throw off their whole game and they’ll forget how to jump and all sorts of stupid cat things)). 

Let your cat get used to wearing the harness with dangling leash in the house. Obviously don’t do this without monitoring your cat the whole time like a helicopter parent because you don’t want them getting stuck on something or some equally stupid cat shit.You want them to get used to there being some kind of “resistance” with the harness on and the easiest way is to just let them drag the leash around--- it will probably low key freak them out so again start with a brief period of supervised time in the house... like idk 10 minutes and work up. Basically do this until your cat does not care that they’re dragging a leash around in the house and are totally chill about the whole thing. 

Start going “on walks” in the house. Basically, yeah that sounds dumb but for real. Once your cat is used to the harness and the leash and doesn’t think they’re dying with either of them then you just gotta start doing indoor “walks”. What that means is, stick the harness and the leash on and... follow your fucking cat around the house. It’ll feel pretty stupid and your cat will probably lay down and think that’s fucking dumb, but you need to get them used to you following them closely NOT being a threatening thing because it IS kind of a threatening thing to them as a tiny predator being followed by Big Clumsy Fuck. Some extra tricks are a) use a chase type toy to get them moving in front of you and b) if you gently scratchy their back near the tall that’ll usually encourage walking. Do this until your cat is pretty cool about like leading you down the hallway.

“Teach” your cat directions. Walking a cat is not like walking a dog, you generally aren’t in charge at all but you CAN teach some very basic level directional shit. Basically, do the indoor walks on the harness but walk away from your cat until their is tension on the leash (I use a bungee type leash btw and suggest that or a “regular” leash and DEF NOT A RETRACTABLE) OR stop when your cat is walking somewhere and refuse to move. Two things are going to happen. Either a) your cat will flop down and give up on life or b) your cat will move nearer to you/the opposite direction of where they were going in order to relieve tension and keep walking. Just keep doing this inside until your cat is doing the second thing. Sometimes if the mood strikes them they will just lay down even if they know to go the other way because they are a cat and cats do what they freaking want.

Venture outside for the first time. Here’s how to do this, cat on leash (check) door to outside open (check) wait until cat goes outside while on leash (uhh... check?). Seriously, you need to let it be the cat’s decision. They need to be comfortable going out on the leash and you can’t just pick them up and plop them far away from their home (and far away from familiar smells). Open the door and prepare for potentially waiting forever for them to go out. Also, leave the door open so the cat can walk back in when they want. This might be tedious and mean going in and out in and out in and out and in until your cat is finally disinterested in walking and you are DONE FOR THE DAY. That’s still a success because kitty is getting chill about going outside! 

Once kitty has worked up to going out past the door and is ready to explore, learn to read kitty’s language and play Protective Parent. Cat is now outside. Cat scared? Pick up. Cat whine? Pick up. Cat sense a danger? Pick up. Cat do an impersonation of Halloween cat? Pick up. Basically anytime there’s any question of cat having a solid time exploring, pick up. You want to get your cat to associate you and being held outside as a safe space if there’s anything that’s scarey to them so that instead of trying to bolt they’ll go to you (or more accurately stop and meow sadly) until they’re picked up to be navigated away from the Uncool Situation. 

WALK THAT CAT. Okay cool you have done steps 1-7 so now you get to walk your cat. EXCEPT you are still 100% walking your cat on your cats terms and your walk might be 5 minutes so congrats your cat is now actively finally learning to walk. Be patient, protect the cat, and make sure you’re not in areas with dogs or kids or cars because that’ll freak your cat’s brain, okay? Okay. Cat is officially do the walks. 

BE A PRO CAT WALKER. Is your cat CAPABLE of DIRECTION? Is your cat GOOD AT WHINING SO YOU’LL PICK HIM/HER UP WHEN HE/SHE NOT HAVING A GOOD TIME? Congratulations you’re ready for the pros. You get to walk your cat near strange things, get cat used to children, get cat okayish around dogs, walk cat on a side walk, pick cat up and carry him/her far away from door before you start walking. You and your cat are communicating on a deep spiritual level, you are #bonded. You are so good at cats. 

LOWER YOUR EXPECTATIONS. It’s a cat dude. You go where cat wants to go (within reason, you have mild control). You walk when cat wants to walk. You stop when cat wants to stop. You’re going to have to do parkour through the woods to go where your cat wants. You’re going to be stand in one place while you cat decides laying down for five minutes is fun. You’re going to learn how actually good your cat is at walking when he/she decides it’s time to turn around and go home. I find it really rewarding and fun because my cat is very chill on the leash and walks on it pretty dang well, like very cat-like walking but you know not entirely undog-like, and it’s nice. Also he’s less of a fucking nightmare when he goes on walks. He also is more of a nightmare when walked regularly because then he DEMANDS TO GO ON WALKS. 

ANYWAY THAT’S HOW TO LEASH-TRAIN A FUCKING CAT LMAO.