#alright with all that out of the way: what a goddamn finale right gang

[the-anime-man]

A view of the City of London from Bank junction and the Royal Exchange. Photographer: Tom Skipp/Bloomberg

[hogwartsandhawkins]

Prove Me Wrong

Chapter 17: Winds of Change

If you need to catch up, here's the Masterlist

Summary: Jess and the gang get kicked out

Word Count: 7.5k

Warnings: Fighting, mentions of blood, bruising, face injuries, of aged men hitting on under-aged girls 🤢, angst. As always let me know if I missed something!

AN: So I got a new laptop, and was super excited to write on it. And then when I uploaded my word doc, it crashed. 🤗 Long story short, after crying and being unmotivated to redo everything that I thought I lost, I fixed it.

The street was full of cars when Jess and Billy pulled up, causing them to park further down the street away from Tina’s. Billy pulled the parking brake and turned off the ignition, turning back to Jess. 

“So what the hell did he say?” Billy was staring at Jess, completely surprised that she had already admitted to Steve that they were a little more than just partners for an English project now.

“He suggested that we hold hands and skip through the football field.” Jess rolled her eyes as she heard the strong laugh leaving Billy’s body. 

“So is he pissed?”

“He’s not exactly thrilled…” 

“Yeah, well. Fuck it,” Billy shrugged unbuckling Jess’s seatbelt for her before taking the keys from the ignition, “Bout time he realized you’re your own person.” 

“He already does, Billy-“

“No he doesn’t. ‘’Cuz god forbid you decided to go to this party without him.” Before Jess could continue arguing, he opened his own door and stepped out, reminding her to “Stay right there,” as he left. When he opened the door for her, waiting for her to step out, he continued, “It’s like he wants you two attached to the hip…” He shook his head, looking as if he were annoying himself with the thought of Steve Harrington always around. 

Once Jess was out of the car, she began to take off the jacket, causing Billy to drop his current thought. “What’re you doin’, leave it on…” 

“I don’t wanna carry it all night when I have to take it off inside.” Before Jess had it all the way off, however, Billy quickly shed the one he was wearing, throwing it in the back and closing the passenger door. 

“There. Problem solved.”

“How-“ 

“Geez, Jess, I thought you were supposed to be the smart one,” Billy teased, “When you don’t want it, I’ll take it alright? Just… keep it on. Least till we get in…”

“You just want it on me to piss off Steve.” They began walking away from the car, the sound of music becoming louder despite the already drowning sound of teenagers that littered her outdoor area. There were easily twice as many people at this party compared to the one Carol had, as Tina was never picky about who came, something Jess had always appreciated about her. 

“I didn’t even know we were seeing pretty boy tonight, alright. Can we lay off the subject now?” 

“Oooh, someone’s testy,” Jess’s smile was faint as she poked fun at him, but slowly faded when she looked up to realize he wasn’t smiling back. “Okay… sorry…”

“No, it’s just… You ever get tired of only thinking about Steve when you do something?” 

“I do not!” 

“Like two goddamn peas in a pod. You’re obsessed with him, he’s obsessed with you,” Billy sighed, slowing down their pace to further the conversation without anyone overhearing, ensuring this by looking around before he spoke again, “It just would be awesome if I could do shit for you without you thinking it’s all this weird thing to piss Harrington off.” 

“Right, because you weren’t trying to at the diner?”

“Jess,” Suddenly, Billy stopped walking entirely, turning his entire body to face her as he looked past her, focusing on his actions from earlier. “I wasn’t trying to piss him off. I was just… fuck…” His shoulders shrugged with frustration, tensing as they dropped again. He looked over toward the house, his jaw now as tense as his shoulders. “He needs to know that I’m not exactly going anywhere,” His head slowly inched back to her as he sucked in a final breath for courage before continuing, “That I’m here to stay.” His eyes flicked to another group walking past them, behind Jess, locking onto them until they were far enough for Billy’s liking.  “Look, I’m not asking for him to like me. I just want him to know that we at least got one thing in common.” 

“And what’s that?” Jess took a step in his direction as she watched him look around one last time. 

“That we both think you’re cool as shit,” He answered as if it were obvious, now walking toward the house at the same, slow pace they had previously. 

Jess followed closely, her arm only inches from his. “Oh yeah? I figured it would be something like how you’re both scarily obsessed with basketball or something.”

“No, Logan. See, thing is, there’s still a big difference between me and him when it comes to basketball. I’m actually good and your little boy toy sucks.”

“He does not suck.” 

“Oh, so that’s the part of the sentence you’re gonna correct?” 

“He does not suck.”

Billy let out an airy laugh as he shoved his hands in his pockets due to the cold, his breath visible when his chuckle dragged out. “Alright, so he’s not that bad.”

“He’s starting five.” 

“So am I.” 

“So there you go,” Jess countered, “You both don’t suck.” 

Billy shook his head in surrender as they reached the wide-open front door. They both looked past the entryway into the main living room, which was already packed, when Jess felt two hands on either side of her neck, patting her shoulders softly.  

“We goin’ in or what?” Jess turned around to see Steve, Jason, Chrissy, and Patrick standing behind her, the others that came with them squeezing past to get inside. Jess and Billy lead the rest of the group toward the kitchen, Steve staying close behind. The music was even louder than it usually was, possibly due to the fact that Tina’s party wasn’t the only social gathering happening on this street. There were never any noise complaints called in on New Year’s Eve, surprising in a small town like Hawkins, and even if there were, there was always a good chance that Hopper would ignore them for the holiday. 

As they made it to the crowded kitchen, Jess noticed a large group of boys she had never seen before stocking the fridge with an assortment of beers, liquor, and mixers. It wasn’t until Tina’s older brother, Christopher, joined them from the dining room that she realized why she’d never seen them before. 

“Hey, Chris.” Jess watched as Tina sauntered over with Nicole, Vickie, Katie, and Jane, who were all giggling, seemingly excited that Tina gave them automatic access to the only college boys at the party. Before Jess could continue listening in, one of Christopher’s friends took notice of her, giving her a look that quickly made her uncomfortable. She turned around to face Steve, causing him to stop. 

“You okay, kid?” 

“Yeah, yeah it’s just, the kitchen looks packed, you know…” Steve looked past her, shrugging his shoulders as he looked into what seemed to be the most open part of the house.

Billy, however, looked where Jess had earlier, taking notice of the older group by the fridge. “You want anything outta there, princess?” He asked without taking his eyes off the cluster of boys. The question made Steve’s eyes roll, but he didn’t interject, allowing Jess to place her request. When he walked past the kitchen island to retrieve a red cup, he caught the attention of Jane, who quickly left the now large group she was in to stride her way over to him. 

“Hey there, Hargrove.” Jane leaned into him slightly, eyeing the drink that he now had in his hand with amusement. “That for me? Because that’s definitely not for you.” 

Billy looked down at the cup as well before laughing coldly, the corners of his mouth pulling downwards. “And why not?” The sarcasm dripped from his question, causing Jane to lean away, not sure if this banter was the friendly kind. 

“Because I know what you actually want.” 

Billy picked up on her tone, clearly expressing she was no longer talking about beer. “Yeah, I doubt that,” He deadpanned, not breaking eye contact as he watched her expression change from confident to irritated in a matter of seconds. 

“Really? Because that’s not the impression I got before break.” She batted her lashes ironically, challenging him on his not-so-new attitude towards her. He finally broke the staring, walking himself to the fridge that was still being crowded around. He pushed past the boys, not troubling himself to ask them to move as he bumped shoulders with the one now chatting up Nicole. To his dismay, she had followed him. He turned around to see her crossing her arms over her chest, almost as if she was triumphantly looking at the can he now had. “What did I tell ya, knew exactly what you’d be going for.”

“Don’t you got some desperate college dude to bug?” He asked rather loudly, still unbothered by the fact that said college boys were gathered around behind him. Billy heard one of them mumble something behind his back but didn’t budge to look behind him, as he felt he’d made his point perfectly clear. 

Jane looked over at the group he came in with, scoffing when her eyes met the back of Steve’s head, watching who he was talking to. “I didn’t know you were friends with Steve Harrington now.” When Billy only rolled his eyes in response, about ready to walk away, she poked at him once more, successfully stopping him in his tracks. “So, what you’re saying is you’d rather hang with Harrington and his little prude all night than have some actual fun, Hargrove?”

Billy scrunched his nose in annoyance, his jaw clenching as he heard the nickname Jane spat out. He wanted to retaliate, possibly hurt her feelings to the point where it would have ruined the rest of her night. There were names that were already lined up in his mind that he could call her and could have probably justified even hours later after he possibly felt bad for his actions. But he stood there for a moment, chewing on his tongue behind his closed lips that were contorted into a sneer. He stared off into the crowd, not exactly fixating on one person, refusing to look back at her face which he was sure was now sporting a satisfied grin, knowing it would anger him further. Instead, he cleared his throat and relaxed his jaw before responding with a simple, “Just fuck off, Jane,” not even bothering to finish his sentence before he continued walking back to Jess and Steve. 

Jess listened to Steve talk about the upcoming tournament as she glanced over to Billy, who was now striding toward her with two drinks in hand. Behind him, Jane purposely caught her attention, waving with only her fingers as she eyed the outfit she was in. Jess watched as her eyes landed suddenly on Billy’s jacket, taking a moment before forcing herself to peel them away and walk back toward the rest of her friends. Jess broke into a small smile, causing Steve to stop mid-sentence. “What’s so funny?” 

“Nothing,” Jess quickly responded, her eyes finding their way back to Steve’s. 

“So, Harrington, you hangin’ with us all night?” Billy stood next to the both of them, taking a quick sip out of Jess’s drinking, ensuring it tasted right, before handing it over to her. Steve thought for a moment, looking over at the red cup Jess had in her hand and then to Billy, who was now taking a drink out of his own Beer. 

“You totally can, if you want. It’s no big deal really,” Jess interrupted his thoughts, not wanting him to think that he had to leave. 

“You know what,” He looked over his shoulder to look around the room, “I kinda owe Heather a dance.” He then straightened his neck back to look over Billy intently. He stood there for a moment longer, evidently recalling something from earlier as he stared at Jess’s cup once more, causing him to relax his shoulders slightly. “Don’t have too much fun without me…” He then gave Jess a friendly smile as he backed away, turning to disappear into the crowd. 

Jess continued to look in the direction that she last saw Steve. “Weird…” 

“What? Weird that pretty boy left?” He took another long drink out of his beer, pretending not to even notice his absence, though if he was being honest with himself, he also found it odd as well that Steve had just agreed to leave them alone. He had intended the question to be a joke, fully expecting Steve to follow Jess around all night, not allowing her a single moment alone with him. And again, if he were being honest, he couldn’t really blame him. 

“I mean, he did cancel Benny’s just to be here…”

“Eh, like he said. He owes some girl a dance.” He shrugged it off as he scanned the room, catching Hagen’s attention as he looked toward the back door. 

“Aye! B!” Jess surprisingly was able to hear Tommy shout over the speakers, watching him pull Carol by the hand through the crowd. 

“Jesus, Tommy, slow down…” Carol mumbled as they reached Billy and Jess, pulling her hand away once his grip loosened. “Hey, you two.” 

“Did I just see you with Harrington?” Tommy questioned, not yet greeting Jess. 

“Yeah, what was that all about…” Carol left Tommy’s side and joined Jess, looking back over at her before adding, “No offense,” to the end of her sentence. 

“Nothing important.” 

Carol looked over at Jess, giving her the same look Chrissy always did when it came to Billy. “Well, I think it’s cute that you’re getting along with him now… Anyways. Tommy’s wanting a rematch.”

“I can’t this time. Driving.” Billy then gestured with his can over to Jess, giving her a wink before further explaining. “Gotta take this one home.” 

“Dude, lame.” Tommy groaned, “Why don’t you both just crash here?” 

“Jess has a curfew, remember?” Carol poked fun at her, pinching her cheeks as if she was a child. “It’s fine, the girls will play a round. Does your goody-two-shoes friend drink, like, at all?”

“Chrissy, I mean… yeah… sometimes but-“

“Good, wave goodbye to the boys,” Carol then looped her arm with Jess’s, walking purposefully toward Jason, Chrissy, and Patrick. “Cunningham. Come on, you’re up at beer pong.” 

Chrissy quickly stood at Jess’s side as they made their way to the kitchen. “I’m not very good…” She said apologetically, causing Carol to giggle. 

“Good. You’re on Jess’s team then.”

“You’ll be fine, Chris. Carol’s not very good either.”

“Bite me.” Carol led them away from Jason and Patrick, who were now eyeing the three girls suspiciously, and began making her way to the kitchen, eyeing the group that was still by the fridge. 

“Please don’t ask Jane to play…” Jess groaned, now dragging her feet a bit. 

“Oh god no. She fucking hates you, you know that right? Why would I ask her to play?” 

“Yes, Carol. Thank you. I know.” 

“I wonder why…” Chrissy leaned in, laughing out loud as she watched the way Jane quickly snapped her head over her shoulder as she heard footsteps coming toward her. 

“Tina, let’s play.” Carol unlooped her arm from Jess’s and grabbed Tina’s hand, pulling rather aggressively, only allowing Tina to wave by to a couple of the girls before she was headed out of the kitchen. Jess and Chrissy followed closely behind them as they navigated their way around the maze of teenagers that crowded the living room. When they finally made it outside, Jess saw Tommy and Billy already waiting for them by the table, Billy quickly making his way to Jess to grab the cup out of her hand. 

“Hey! I’m not-“

“Yeah, you’re done with this.” Billy then downed the barely touched drink, crushing the cup when he was done, tossing it toward the opened black bag that was by the ping pong table. “Like I said, I’m not bringing you home completely sloshed.”

“Oh don’t worry, Billy, your girl’s gonna be plenty sloshed when we’re done with her.” Carol then high-fived Tina as they set up their side of the table. “Hurry up and get over here, Logan, I’m tryna win.” 

Billy shook his head, leaning in to whisper in Jess’s ear. “Don’t worry, Tina’s shot’s trash. Played against her on Halloween. Go kick their ass, princess.”

Jess walked over next to Chrissy, who was putting their cups together, occasionally looking up at Tina and Carol’s side to make sure she was doing it right. Out of the corner of her eye, Jess watched as Jason and Patrick joined them by the table, Chrissy giving her boyfriend a shy grin as she waved over to him.

Carol let Chrissy start the game, teasing them by stating how it didn’t matter, and how she and Tina were going to win anyway. Their game went on for what felt like forever, most of their shots bouncing out of cups or missing them completely. Eventually, Steve wandered into the backyard as well, stopping by the table to watch. Once a little over half of the cups were gone, Jess looked over at Chrissy, who was now continuously bumping into her, giggling uncontrollably as she apologized each time. 

“I think Chris might be done,” Jess mentioned, watching as her friend took her time to grasp the ball and aim. 

“No! I’m fine… I just don’t drink a lot,” she continued to giggle, looking over at Jason as he started walking over to her. 

“Don’t get too wasted now.” Jason was now over, counting the cups on her side of the table. “You still got boutta hour to midnight.” 

“Okay okay, fine.” She tossed the ball haphazardly to Jason, who quickly shot his hand up to catch it, not expecting the toss. “You play then.”

“Hey, that means we win.” Carol pointed out, counting how many cups each team had left. “Logan, if she quits, we win!”

“Okay, fine, Carol, you win.” Jess gave in, causing both Tina and Carol to cheer, once again high-fiving each other. 

“What happened to kicking their ass, Logan?” Billy teased, watching her walk back to the side of the table. 

“Yeah, well, Tina had a better shot than you said.”

“Hey!” Tina overheard, crossing her arms as she stared down Billy. 

Jason still held the small ball, bouncing it off the table and catching it with his opposite hand. “You wanna finish this out, Patrick?” 

When he agreed, Tommy jumped in as well, “I’ll take other side. C’mon, B, jump in. We only got like… six cups left.” 

Billy nodded his head slowly, counting the cups himself, convinced he’d only have to drink a couple of them before he and Hagen won. “I ain’t playin’ another one after.” He then threw his now empty beer can in the trash bag that lay on the grass, its contents spilled out around it. “Watch how it’s done, princess.” He walked to Tommy’s side, Steve now taking his place by Jess. 

“Watch how it’s done, princess,” Steve mocked quietly, earning him a punch in the arm. “Good thing you’re staying another three hours. Those guys are good.” He nodded his head to Jason and Patrick before continuing, “No way he’s not downing all three of his.”

“Yeah right… Jason and Patrick only have four left. No way.”

“Oh yeah, well so do Hargrove and Hagen now.” 

Jess shot her attention back to the game, realizing that both Jason and Patrick must have made it in one, Jason now aiming the ball again. When he sank his second shot in the cup nearest Billy, Tommy pounded on the table, watching his friend down his second beer already. “Shit, shit…” The game was over quickly, with Billy only making one shot before the other four cups on his side were gone. 

“What happened to showing me how it was done, Hargrove?” 

“How the hell could I have known that the lightweight’s boyfriend could actually pl- owww.”

“Don’t call her that!”

“You look over at her recently?” 

He nodded his head toward the ground where Chrissy was sitting, looking up at the stars. Jason walked over to her, helping her up as she finally fixed her eyes on him. “Did you win?” 

Jason only laughed at her, leading her back inside so she could sit on the couch. “This is why you don’t play beer pong, baby.” He sat her down on the right side of the living room couch, plopping down next to her as she leaned against the armrest. Billy and Jess followed, Steve close behind them as they entered the house, all three sitting on the loveseat opposite the couch. It was a slightly tight squeeze for the three of them, causing Jess to be partially on Billy’s lap, something he didn’t mind at all. The close proximity caused her to take off Billy’s jacket, which Billy quickly took from her, draping it over the leg she currently wasn’t sitting on. 

Tina, Tommy, and Carol soon entered through the backdoor as well, making Jason scoot closer to Chrissy as they too squeezed to sit on the couch, Carol sitting completely on top of Tommy. Unfortunately, with Tina now sitting with them, the rest of her friends came as well, the college boys following closely behind them. Jess quickly felt eyes on her, and this time, it wasn’t Jane’s stare that caused her to feel uncomfortable. 

Jess nodded back at Tina’s brother, who sat on the floor in front of his sister after wordlessly greeting her. That’s when Jess noticed the same boy from earlier in the kitchen, seemingly more confident now, whether it be from alcohol or from the fact that he realized his friend was acquaintances with Jess. He eyed her noticeably, going out of his way to sit on part of the floor closer to the loveseat, grinning at her once again before pretending to listen to a conversation that was taking place on the couch. On his third attempt of getting Jess’s attention, Billy noticed, causing him to grit his teeth before releasing his jaw again, not wanting his annoyance to be obvious. He then looked over at Jess, attempting to gauge her interest. When she looked as if she were about to crawl out of her skin, he threw his arm around the back of her shoulders, leaning back into the cushions as if trying to convince his body to relax. 

He squeezed her shoulder gently, reassuring her that he was there, to not worry about the creep that happened to be there. Billy didn’t care to know the dude, didn’t care to know his intentions. His longing looks at a high schooler were enough to profile him as a weirdo that he couldn’t wait to get Jess away from. Based on the amount of alcohol at this party, he assumed this man was at least legal drinking age, knowing his friend, Tina’s brother, was 21 as well. Billy leaned down to whisper in Jess’s ear, still not taking his eyes off the only non-teenagers there. 

“You want anything outta the kitchen, princess?”

“It’s okay…” Jess answered quietly, seemingly able to read his mind, “Don’t worry about it… I’m sure they’ll leave.” She traced Billy’s gaze to the same guy still looking over at her, making her quickly look away. It took every ounce of patience in Billy to not call it out, to not pull him up by his collar, hitting him continuously until he fell back down on the floor. But it was only a look, he kept telling himself. He couldn’t risk looking crazy in front of Jess, or worse, embarrassing her in front of their whole class due to just a look. After another ten minutes of attempting to be interested in conversation, however, he kept glancing down at the college boy, apparently named Dennis.

Stupid fucking name.

Dennis had also continued to do the same to both him and Jess, looking between the two of them before staring at Jess for an unwanted amount of time, his eyes appearing to forget that she, too, was a person. Against Billy’s better judgment, he looked over at Steve before looking back at Jess. 

“I need a drink,” He said before whispering in Jess’s ear, “Stay with Steve, I’ll be back in a bit with some water for you, yeah?” He then got up and left Jess’s side, making sure to leave his jacket by her, using it to claim his spot. Jess watched as he disappeared into the crowd, spotting the way he would turn his head back over in their direction occasionally, jaw clenching every time he did. When she could no longer see him, she scooted herself closer to Steve, hoping that would save her from Dennis wanting to socialize with her in any way. It seemed to work for a moment, but she began to grow nervous when Billy had yet to show back up after a few minutes away. Dennis obviously had taken notice as well, scrutinizing the leather jacket that was placed in his way. 

Jess stayed as small as she could, refusing to make eye contact with anyone, until someone within the crowd shouted, “TWO MINUTES TILL MIDNIGHT!” Everyone began cheering, most of the group that was sitting began to stand, awaiting the anticipated countdown. It looked as if Dennis was lost in the crowd, making Jess relax for a moment, only to become on edge again when she felt an unfamiliar hand grab her wrist. 

“Hey,” Jess turned around to see Dennis now standing in front of her, much too close for her liking. “So where you gonna be at midnight?” She could unmistakably smell vodka on his breath, which made her stomach churn, it smelling much less pleasant than the slight smell of hops Billy would have after he would drink. 

She tried pulling away softly, but when his grip didn’t loosen, she panicked, looking back at Steve for help. “Sorry, I’m just gonna hang out with some friends…” She responded, still looking over at Steve who quickly arrived next to her. 

“Hang out with me instead.” He retorted confidently, not caring who was currently next to her. 

“Uhm no I-“

“She’s not interested, bud,” Steve quickly butted in, now directing his attention toward Jess, pulling her arm away, “C’mon kid, let’s go.” 

Jess eagerly began following him away until she was again stopped by the same unfamiliar hand, Dennis’s other hand nudging Steve away. “How about she tell me she’s not interested.” Jess felt her blood run cold, looking at the difference in stature between her friend and the unwanted college boy, who stood taller and broader than Steve did. However, it didn’t deter Steve from pushing back, much harder than Dennis had pushed him. 

“Let go of her, or else.” Steve was now in Dennis’s face, causing Christopher to come over, trying to defuse the situation. 

“Come on, Den, let’s get outta here…” Tina’s brother attempted to whisper, trying to take his friend’s hand from around Jess’s wrist. Jess continued to watch the way the older boy’s eyes faded in and out, clearly intoxicated, and furious. She tried to free her arm once again, but was much weaker than the stocky brunette, when suddenly someone grabbed Christopher’s shirt, quickly pulling him away from Dennis, Billy now standing in his place. Jess then felt a slight pinch in her wrist, hurting only for a moment, realizing after that her hand was suddenly free from Dennis’s grasp and secured softly in Billy’s. He then let go slowly, pointing over to Steve without taking his eyes off Dennis. Jess did as she was wordlessly told, making her way back to Steve’s side. She had never seen him this inflamed, his eyes wide and wild, his jaw ticking with anger. Everyone else besides a select few had yet to notice what was going on around them, continuing to count down, which almost drowned out what Billy said next. 

“You wanna explain why you’re touching my girl?” 

She wasn’t sure if she had heard it correctly, or sure if she, or anyone besides Dennis, was meant to hear it, but she was sure she would have been blushing currently if it wasn’t for the situation they were in. 

“FIVE!”

She watched the way Billy was now shaking out his wrists, occasionally clenching and unclenching his hands into fists, stretching out his fingers when they were released. She’s seen this movement from him only once before, and it didn’t turn out so good for the other boy he was facing that night. 

“FOUR!”

Billy patiently waited for a response, Dennis coming up with one he wasn’t expecting. The older boy chuckled at him, looking back over at Jess before saying, “Didn’t seem like your girl when I was talkin’ to her.”

“THREE!”

Billy’s expression slowly changed from enraged to feigned amusement, smiling maliciously before he chuckled back, scrunching up his nose as he did so. He continued to stare at him, nodding wordlessly before running his tongue along his top row of teeth. 

“TWO!”

Steve seemed to recognize this look as well, taking a step forward to get ready to shield Jess if needed, but still not obstructing her view. She then watched as Billy took one last look over at her, the same smile still there, but his mouth now closed. However, his eyes had a different look, almost apologetic in a way, before he turned back his attention to the creep in front of him. 

“ONE!”

“Yeah... Don’t worry though, I’ll make sure to show her a good ti-“

“HAPPY NEW YEAR!”

Dennis’s snide comment was quickly interrupted by a fist to the mouth, causing everyone in the vicinity to back away, some staring wide-eyed, others now cheering. Despite Dennis being slightly taller and wider than Billy, he didn’t seem to be able to stand up to the younger teen, who was relentlessly throwing punch after punch, not stopping until one of Dennis’s other friends jabbed Billy in the gut. Jess watched the way Billy winced in pain, now turning his attention to the other boy. When she saw Dennis standing up again, now squaring up to take an unfair punch, Jess almost screamed at Billy to turn around, but Steve stopped her as he pushed her back against the crowd softly. 

“Awe fuck,” Steve mumbled before quickly walking up to the other boy, grabbing his collar before shouting, “Hey!” He then swung his arm back, punching him so hard the boy’s cap flew off. Billy glanced over at Steve briefly, surprised at the sudden help. He then nodded at Steve before turning his attention back over to Dennis. Just when both Billy and Steve seemed to be holding their own, Steve taking on a few more punches than Billy, two other college boys stepped up, Christopher being one of them, who was now also swinging at Billy with Dennis. Jess could hardly keep track of the two boys she came with, watching helplessly as both of them disappeared in the middle of the four older ones. Jason and Patrick, however, emerged from the crowd, trying to pull the other boys off Steve and Billy. Jess watched as Jason grabbed for Christopher, who quickly turned and clocked Jason in the jaw, taking him aback only for a moment before he tackled Tina’s brother to the ground. The fighting went on for only moments more until Jess suddenly saw Billy grab for Dennis’s legs, swiftly lifting him and slamming him into Tina’s coffee table, the legs buckling and center cracking from the weight. 

“ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?!” Tina’s voice could be heard over everyone’s cheering, which quickly stopped once she screamed. “MY PARENTS ARE GONNA FREAK!!” Billy slowly rose from the top of Dennis, dusting his legs off before straightening back up, grimacing in pain as he did. Jason and Patrick both helped Steve off the floor who was now sporting a bloody nose. Billy simply stared at Dennis as he pitifully rolled off the now broken table onto his hands and knees, having a hard time getting back on his feet. Chrissy was now at Jess’s side, holding her hand in anticipation as she looked over at her boyfriend, who was also holding onto his own nose, blood dripping from his hand. However, Jess overlooked Jason’s or Patrick’s injuries, her worried gaze leaving Steve and now focusing on Billy, who now had a bruise forming on his cheek, his bottom lip cut. He had yet to look over at her, his eyes still fixed on the boy on the floor almost as if he was challenging him to get back up. He didn’t even flinch or look over when Tina began to yell again next to him. 

“All of you!” She then pointed at all the boys but her brother, “OUT!” 

Jason began trying to speak up, “C’mon Tina, they-“

“I said GET OUT!” 

Jason ran his hand over his face, flicking blood off, walking toward Chrissy, grabbing her hand with his unbloodied one, then nodding at Jess. “Let’s get out of here.” He then looked at the older boys in disgust as he led the girls to the front door, Patrick already out in the front yard. Billy swiped his jacket from the couch, looking back unsatisfied at Dennis one last time before turning and leaving as well, gesturing at Steve to follow him. Billy quickly caught up to Jess, staying close behind her. She could hear how rapidly he was breathing, making her look back at him, causing him to lock eyes with her before he placed his hand on the small of her back, telling her to keep moving. When they finally reached the concrete step that separated the communal sidewalk from the path leading up to Tina’s doorway, all four boys plopped down to sit, looking exhausted. Jess was the first to speak. 

“I’m so sorry guys I-“ 

“Don’t you dare fuckin’ apologize.” Billy stopped her, shaking his head as he stared blankly across the street. 

“Yeah, it’s not your fault, Jess.” Steve agreed, flashing her a sympathetic smile. “You alright?”

Before Jess could answer, however, Billy snapped his head in Jess’s direction, his eyes coming back into focus. “Let me see it,” he demanded, his voice lower in register.

“What?” Jess looked back at him now, confused at what exactly he was requesting. 

“Your wrist. Let me see it.” He held out his hand, figuring she would automatically comply, placing her hand into his, allowing him to examine it carefully as he intended. When she didn’t make a move to do so, his eyes darkened. “Jess…” 

The wrist in question was tucked securely under her blue sleeve, her fingers grasping the fabric against her palm tightly. She had yet to look at it either, but she was sure there was at least a red mark, based on how tight the older boy had ahold of it and how promptly Billy removed his grip when he saw it. She had just watched Billy calm down a bit, and she wasn’t too keen on seeing his rage spike back up. 

“You alright, kid?” Steve now reached for it, the wrist being closer to him than it was to Billy, but she moved it out of easy reach. 

“You guys are freaking out over nothing, it’s fine.” 

“Then let me see it,” Billy spoke again, his voice attempting to hold steady, not wanting Jess to mistake his anger as being directed at her.

“I’ll let you see it when we get out of here…” Jess softly responded, causing Billy to rise from his concrete seat next to Steve, his leather jacket still in hand. “Billy…” He said nothing in response, draping the jacket over Jess’s shoulders before gently reaching for her left wrist, raising it close to his chest before pushing her sleeve out of the way. Jess was surprised to see bruised lines forming in the shape of fingers. They were light, but certainly there. She then looked up at Billy, who was contorting his mouth in an angered frown, looking over her shoulder and then back at her wrist, as if trying to adjust his eyesight to ensure he was seeing this right. 

“Ga’damn,” Patrick now stood next to her, peering over to see the bruises. “That’s fucked, Logan.”

Jess’s eyes moved in his direction in annoyance, indicating he wasn’t helping any, Patrick throwing up his hands in response. Billy still had yet to say a thing, still adjusting his eyesight away from her wrist, only to find himself looking at it again, becoming more unwound with every glance. When he couldn’t keep looking at it, he turned to face Tina’s front door, his chest now heaving. 

“Billy no,” Jess said suddenly, not knowing whether he was thinking about going back in to find Dennis again or not. 

Steve must have felt the tension as well, also rising from the step, looking down at Jess’s wrist once, cringing at the sight of it. “C’mon man, let’s just leave.”

“And go where? Our rides are still inside.” Jason finally spoke up, still sitting as Chrissy stood over him, her hands secured in his, him not wanting to let go of her just yet. 

“You guys didn’t drive here?” Jess asked, looking over at Steve who typically always took his car. 

“Not this time.” 

“Awe shit…” Patrick cursed, sitting himself back down next to Jason.

“I can’t go back home now, my mom’s gonna flip if she sees blood all over me, gotta at least get this shit off me,” Jason groaned, Patrick quickly agreeing with him. 

“We could always go back to Benny’s like we planned?” Chrissy suggested, now trying to rub some of the blood off his cheeks. 

“With what car, babe?”

Jess gave Billy an inquiring look, practically asking permission before she mentioned his car out loud. 

“Can’t drive yet, princess… thought we’d be here for another two hours.”

“Steve’s sober,” she quickly responded.

He glanced over at Steve, now standing awkwardly next to the two of them, before shaking his head. “Hell no.”

“C’mon, Billy. You wanna sit here the rest of the night? Let’s go to Benny’s, you guys wash up, let the rest of your buzz go ‘way in the next couple hours.” When he didn’t budge, she added, “He’s a really good driver…” causing Billy to roll his eyes. 

Jason and Patrick looked up hopefully at Billy, wanting to get out of there as soon as possible as other classmates were now starting to come outside to ‘mingle’, making sure to continue to stare at the banished group. “There’s not ‘nuff seats, and the back’s small as shit.”

“It’s cool, Chris will sit on my lap, Jess and Pat can sit in the back with us, you get front since it’s your car. No big deal.”

Billy stood there for a moment, considering everything he heard before wordlessly tossing his keys to Steve. He then walked ahead of them, a little peeved this was how his night was ending, with a busted lip, a bruised ego, a ruined buzz, Steve fucking Harrington now driving his prized possession, and worst of all, it was his first real night out with Jess.

“Fuckin’ perfect,” He mumbled under his breath, “Just great.”

When they finally reached his car, he stood by the passenger door, eyeing Steve with warning. “If you put a single scratch on her, you’re dead.” He then threw the seat in the upright position, moving out of the way so Jess could squeeze in the middle. Steve did the same, Jason moving into the back seat behind the driver’s side, positioning himself before outstretching his hand to help Chrissy onto his lap. When Patrick began to enter behind Jess, Billy suddenly stopped him, grabbing him by the shirt and tugging backward before mumbling, “You take front.” 

Jess smiled when she saw Billy enter, pushing herself over into Jason more to try and make room for him. When he was semi-comfortable, he adjusted the seat back to allow Patrick to sit, leaning back after to try and relax. However, the tight fit made that difficult, not having much room for his legs. He stretched his left arm behind Jess, shifting every two seconds. “Ah shit…”

“Here, you want me to…” Jess then tried scooting her leg out of the way to allow Billy’s leg more room in the middle. 

After a few more failed attempts to sit comfortably, Billy grumbled in irritation. “Fuck it. C’mere.” He then grabbed Jess by the hips and effortlessly positioned her on his right leg, her back now facing the small triangle window. He placed his right arm in between her and the door, providing her back with more support, shifting lower so her head wasn’t rubbing against the ceiling. Her legs dangled in between Billy’s, which were now comfortably spread. “This alright?” He whispered in her ear. 

She began to nod when Steve entered the car, looking behind him. “You guys okay back th- … ere.” His eyes fixed on Jess and Billy, giving them both a disapproving stare. However, it only lasted for a moment before he turned back around, turning the ignition. He then readjusted the rearview mirror so Jess was able to see his eyes clearly. “Ready to go then? You guys… situated?”

“Ready when you are, Harrington,” Jason grinned, squeezing Chrissy’s thigh as he winked at her playfully. 

“Jess?” Steve questioned, glancing back at her through the mirror. 

“Uh y-up! Ready!” 

Steve nodded, appearing to relax as he accepted her response, again adjusting the mirror so he could see the road behind him.

“Let’s get the hell outta here then.”

Taglist: @nix-rose @fandom-princess-forevermore @ooo---hazelgrimm---ooo @axionn @defenslessheart-main @the-lost-are-ignored @ahoyyharrington @strawberrykittey

[polakina]

JAVIER REQUEST PLS OMG- We all like latin, suave lover Javier but what if we mix that with a lil bit of awkward Javier?? Javier who says the wrong, rizzless things whenever he tries to be suave and it ends up sounding like he's being threatening??

I think it would be silly if Javier fell for reader who tried to pick pocket him at a bar (he noticed ofc- she ain't slick-) and promptly invited her to come with him and join the gang or else he'll report her to the Sheriff for pick pocketing (he can't think of a fast enough excuse to make her stay).

i love love LOVE this idea. nonnie i love u

pls send more requests, this one is amazing

rating: mature

pairing: javier escuella x reader

follow the trail

You’d noticed him across the store about twenty minutes ago. He stood with a larger, more loudly spoken man who looked as though he was trying to start a fight with the store keeper. The Spanish man just stood there, leaning against the counter, looking like he didn’t want to be there. You found it sort of amusing, how fed up he looked.

Shielding yourself from view behind the shelves, you planned your idea, mapping it out in your head. The loud spoken man eventually stormed out of the building, leaving just you, the Latino and the shopkeeper.

You could do it now. Sneak behind him as though you were waiting in line, steal from his back pocket where you could quite clearly see a bill fold just waiting to be lifted from him. It’d be easy. Like the thousand other times you’d done it.

Javier eyed you from his peripheral. You’d pretended to eye coffee tins for a while now. Nobody looked at coffee that long. Your eyes had flitted between himself and Bill. Something in your eyes brightened once Bill had left the store, not even casting a glance at you.

So he was your target. Not Bill. Not the shopkeeper. Just as he’d suspected, you’d had a firm gaze on his back pocket since even before you’d entered the store. The bill fold he’d conveniently left in view drew your attention right to him. He’d felt your presence quite close behind him and Bill on the walk through Valentine. Not too close to draw attention, but not so far that you’d lose him in a crowd. You were good. But not as good as him.

He paid for his things and left. You grabbed a few tins of coffee and some assorted biscuits off the shelf and side stepped into view, head down. Your shoulder bumped his and you turned to apologise, your free hand reaching around his rear, delicate fingers lifting the folded papers out of his pocket. 

“Apologies, mister,” you smiled sweetly, looking up at him. He was handsome, you noticed. A freckle dotted face and dark moustache covering his lips.  You hadn’t noticed that from afar.

“It’s alright, hermosa,” he smiled back, tipping his hat to you. “Should have watched where I was going.” With that, he left, leaving you richer and him none the wiser. You smirked to yourself, paying for your groceries and making your way to the door. You didn’t see the silhouettes in the window, two men waiting outside the store. Exiting the shop, you paid them no mind, but they had their eyes on you.

“Got what you needed, Javier?” Bill asked him as he exited the shop, a smirk playing at Javier’s lips. 

“No help from you, hermano,” Javier rolled his eyes, leaning against the wall of the general store. He lit a cigarette, waiting for the familiar bell ring of the door to sound. “You’re lucky he even served me after the shit you called him.”

“He said I was drunk! Thought I was a danger to him ‘in the state I was in. Goddamn idiot.”

“And are you?”

“Am I what?”

“Drunk?”

Javier laughed as Bill stumbled, unable to formulate a defence for himself. Of course, whatever defence he did come up with would have been a lie. He’d been drinking whiskey since the sun rose. Of course he was drunk.

“What you even doing, Escuella? We should be getting back to camp,” Bill pointed out, finally realising that Javier hadn’t even moved to make his way to his horse yet.

“Just gimme a sec, Williamson. There’s someone I’m waiting for,” he mused vaguely, turning his head towards the door as the lady who’d stolen from him exited the store.

You felt an arm grab you, and your head whipped towards the same man you’d robbed. Shit. “Hey, look I apologised for bumping into you, you don’t need to take this further,” you pulled from his grip easily. He wasn’t trying to restrain you, he just wanted your attention.

“Javier, you waited all this time for a girl? Come on, man, we’ve got shit to do,” the other  man groaned, turning to stumble towards his horse, quite ungracefully, you might add.

“Not here about you bumping into me, chica,” Javier spoke, his tone steady, friendly. He leaned against the store post, smiling. You stood on the top step, a head shorter than him. “I’m here for the money you stole from me.” His accent tingled at something inside you. You hadn’t heard his accent much around Valentine. It wasn’t common. But you liked it. 

“Well, that was a little abrupt, wasn’t it?” You asked, cocking your head, your heart thumping in your chest. It wasn’t often you got caught. You had to figure your way out of this one. Perhaps if you played with a meaner, more defensive streak, he might back off. “You’d do well not to go about accusing people like that.”

His eyebrows rose and his intimidating demeanour backed off.

He’d got you. He saw it in your eyes. You were trying to think of a lie that could get you out of this. To anyone else, your smile and sweet expression would have gotten you a slap on the wrist before getting sent off about your day. It could have worked for him. But Javier was looking to recruit. You seemed a perfect candidate.

“I want my money back, and I’ll get it one way or another,” he said. It came across more threatening that he’d have liked. Especially when he saw your eyes squint and your entire body tense. “But…but…perhaps if you gave it back, I could spend it on something nice, like taking you out for a drink? Hmm?”

You’d have thought he’d never talked to a woman before. First he accused you, then he asked you out for a drink? The man was all over the place. “So…you accuse me of stealing from you? And now…you want me to go for a drink with you? I think you’ve smoked too many cigarettes, mister,” you laughed, moving to walk away, but he stepped in front of you before you could leave.

“The bill folds. They were in my back pocket. I can’t lie, it was a pretty good lift. Better than I’ve seen in a while,” he smirked, looking down at you with a genuinely happy smile. “But not good enough, sweetheart.”

Your eyes widened. There wasn’t a way out now. He’d caught you red handed. Fuck.

“I don’t-”

“Look,”he leaned forward, his scent in your nose now, smoke wafting in your face as he spoke. His face inched closer to yours, and if you didn’t feel as though you were about to be outed, you’d probably have blushed. “We could use someone like you. You’re good at what you do, that much is evident. Seems like you wanna make money, I can help with that.”

That wasn’t exactly what you were expecting. “I ain’t looking for a job, mister,” you whispered, leaning in closer. “Not if it ain’t legal.”

He chuckled softly, his shoulders shaking as he tilted his head back. He had a pretty laugh. “Honey, I don’t think you’ve ever done a legal thing since you could walk. You rob people as easy as you breathe.”

“Not happening.”

Javier quirked his brow. “Let me rephrase this, hermosa. You can come with me, and my good friend Bill over there,” he pointed at Bill, who swayed against his horse, humming to himself across the street. “Or…I go tell that lovely sheriff over there that you stole from me. I’d love to see how you fare in jail. With a pretty face like that, you might get out in a couple weeks.”

“Are blackmailing me with a prison sentence to come join your rag tag crew of outcasts?!” Your eyes practically bulged out of your head and you couldn’t suppress the laugh that escaped you, it wasn’t friendly, exactly. More just out of sheer surprise.

“Uhm…well…okay, so,” Javier rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. Not exactly a smooth talker, he was beginning to learn. “It’s your only option, love.”

Honestly, it wasn’t a bad option. At least you wouldn’t be scavenging for scraps for the rest of your life. Hmm. You cocked your head to the side, looking at Javier with contemplating eyes. “Blackmail wasn’t the ideal way to go about it…” Javier chuckled nervously as you spoke, looking down at his feet. “But you’re lucky I’m desperate for somewhere more comfortable to sleep.”

Riding back to their camp, you looked over to Javier, whose eye caught yours. He smiled softly. “You know I wouldn’t have turned you into the sheriff, right?”

You huffed a chuckle, shaking your head. “I know that it would have been a stupid move from you, Javier,” you smirked.

“You still got my money?”

Raising your eyebrows, you turned to face the road. “Thought you were going to take me out for a drink with that money?” You heard him laugh to your right. “I’ll keep a hold of that money until you go through with that promise.”

He liked your spark. “Anything for you, hermosa.”

[punctatum]

In The Mountains

Charthur Fic (read on ao3 under punctatum)

THIS IS MY WORK. DO NOT COPY PASTE THIS AND POST IT ON OTHER PLATFORMS. AO3 AND TUMBLR ARE THE ONLY PLACES I AM POSTING THIS.

Arthur Morgan and Charles Smith are not my original characters.

One - 700 words

Arthur always went on hunting trips alone, he had convinced himself that he worked better that way. Dutch, however, seemed to have a different idea, as he sent Charles Smith along with him. The two had grown close over some months, going on various missions together, and Arthur definitely enjoyed Charles’ company. Maybe a little too much.

“I heard rumours in town that there’s a bear up here.” Arthur voiced as he and Charles rode out to the mountains on their trusted horses. “I don’t know how true it is, but if we find a bear, we could feed the gang for a damn long time.” He tugged on the reins of his steed once they reached a clearing to make camp. “Trying for the bear is better than coming back without it.” Charles decided, and the pair dismounted.

Arthur thought that setting up camp was the worst part of trips. Maybe he was right. Charles was even more silent than he normally was due to how concentrated he was on assembling their tent. Arthur felt his muscles begin to ache as he swung his axe against trees for firewood. “Goddamn.” He breathed after a while. “You think we could take a break?” He looked over at Charles, gouging his reaction. “Well, we could have the camp up by nightfall…” Charles gazed into the horizon. “But I’m getting tired.”

The two men stumbled down a hill to a creek. Arthur was the first to discard his shirt and jeans, practically throwing himself into the chill water. “Come on, don’t leave me in here by myself like an idiot.” He said playfully, beckoning Charles to get into the water with him. Charles couldn’t help but chuckle, and Arthur’s heart nearly melted at the sound, and at the sight of the sun glistening against his dark skin, the way his tight shirt hung to his muscles. Finally, Arthur was joined in the water, and they moved further out.

Arthur could see the strain on Charles’ face, the man was still thinking about setting up the camp. He couldn’t criticise Charles for thinking that way, as he was the same, but what he really wanted was to relax with his companion. To lighten the mood, he splashed Charles’ face with water. “Hey!” He chuckled, lunging at Arthur. “Wait, wait, wait!” Arthur gasped, but Charles already had his head underwater. “How’s that, cowboy?” Charles questioned playfully, pulling Arthur’s head back to the surface, and closer to his own. “Shut up.” He laughed in response.

Once cooled, the pair basked in the sun against the grassy hills. “We really should set up the camp.” Charles voiced after a moment’s silence. “Yeah, yeah, I guess you’re right.” Arthur grumbled, reluctantly getting to his feet and fumbling for his shirt.

It was easier now to set up the camp when the two were cooled off by the water, and relaxed by their break. They had their tent up and the fire burning in what seemed like no time at all. Arthur reached into his satchel and pulled out a bottle of bourbon. After opening it, he took a sip, and passed it to Charles, who mimicked the other man. “We’ll start hunting tomorrow.” Arthur declared, settling down against the log beside Charles. “We better, or Dutch will have us hanged.” Charles teased in response.

As the pair became drunker, Arthur became bolder. When they were laying together on their bedroll, surrounded by the fabric of their tent, Arthur trailed his hand down Charles’ torso. “You know I want you.” He slurred. “I wanted you all those nights before, too.” Charles hesitated before replying, he was significantly less drunk than Arthur, and could actually make sense of the situation. “I know you do, and that you did.” He assured Arthur. “But not tonight, alright? You know that’s not a good idea.” He ran his fingers through the man’s dark blond hair, trying to soothe him.

The rejection caused a pang of sadness in Arthur’s heart, one that he couldn’t deny, but he nonetheless respected Charles’ wishes. “Tomorrow?” He suggested, leaning into the feeling of Charles’s fingers against his hair. “Maybe.” Charles replied vaguely as they drifted into sleep.

[jujumin-translates]

[18TRIP] Event Story | WE ARE M・T・T・B | TRACK. 6

Characters: 🫰 Chihiro Natsuyaki, ☁️ Ten Murakumo, 🎨 Kiroku Kinugawa, 🌕 Muneuji Kaguya, 🔮 Toi Shiramitsu

Location: HAMA House - Lesson Room

Chihiro: And turn!

Muneuji & Toi & Kiroku: Okay!

Ten: (Goddamn.)

Chihiro: Alright, next lemme see the dance all the way through starting with you, Munechi~.

Muneuji: Understood.

*Footsteps*

Chihiro: …

Muneuji: Backstep, …Next, go three steps up.

Chihiro: …

Muneuji: And then with attitude…

Chihiro: …Hm~m. Your flow is perfectly in sync with the rhythm, but I still feel like you’re moving kinda stiffly.

Chihiro: Why don’t you try being a little more… I know! How about you try keeping the movements of a kitty in mind? Like, keep it flexible and soft, y’know!

Muneuji: Hm, I see. I’ll give that a try.

Chihiro: M’kay, next up is you, Toonya~!

Toi: And.. there.

Toi: Like this, and… Cool cat pose…!

Chihiro: Yeah, that’s supes cute ♪ You’ve got even more energy than before~. But I’m getting the vibe that you’re trying your best to be like Chii.

Toi: I am…! I know your dance by heart, Chihiro-kun…!

Chihiro: Thanksies ♪ But I’d love to see some more Toonya-like elements!

Chihiro: Your cat pose is crazy cute, so how about you come up with some more cat-like movements to add to the dance, Toonya?

Toi: G-Got it! I’ll give it a shot…!

Chihiro: And finally, Kirokkuma~!

Kiroku: O… kay.

Kiroku: …

*Kiroku dances*

Kiroku: Kick, turn, and… Charleston.

Chihiro: Your dance has got a kinda emo-vibe, Kirokkuma! It’s got an edge and flair ♪ 

Chihiro: But just like I thought, you curled in on yourself as soon as you became too aware of things, so try to dance with your chest out more!

Kiroku: O… kay.

*Chihiro claps*

Chihiro: Alright, gang, let’s run through the dance one more time~.

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Ten: …

Chihiro: You’re a cat, Munechi! A kitty-cat! Try hula-hooping a hundred times to make things a little softer.

Muneuji: Haah, haah, I never expected there would be this kind of burden on my lower back…! But it definitely feels like my movements are softening.

Chihiro: Toonya, try dancing while really staring yourself down in the mirror! Just be yourself and get lost in your movements ♪ 

Toi: O-Okay…!

Chihiro: This is for you, Kirokkuma ♪ It’s just a rod called a “hunchback correcting cast”! You put it on your back like this~!

Kiroku: It… straightened… my back…

Ten: (Uwhoa~, this is like something straight outta an old-fashioned sports anime. Well, it’s not like it’s not fitting…)

Chihiro: (Hm~... Overall, I think things are getting better, but it just doesn’t feel right and I don’t know why.)

Chihiro: (I can’t put it into words about what it exactly is or why… I’ve just got a feeling. Maybe I can try and look at the whole thing more objectively to figure out what it is…)

Chihiro: …I wish I had a video of all the dances up until this point.

Chihiro: Despite recording things back with Ev3ns, I totally forgot to this time~...

Kiroku: Ah… If that’s the case, then… here…

Ten: Hm? What’s that? 

Muneuji: That reminds me, Kinugawa, you had been taking videos of our dancing so far to see if it might be of any help, correct?

Kiroku: Isotake… lent me his… tripod…

Chihiro: For realsies!? Thanksies much, Kirokkuma ♪ Let’s watch it together right away.

Chihiro: …

Ten: …

Chihiro: (...I see. Things are kinda all over the place when the three of them are put together, but individually, they’re pretty well put together. They’re not super skillful, but there’s a sorta charming roughness about it…)

Chihiro: …I wonder if that’s what I felt was off earlier~.

Ten: You felt there was something off?

Chihiro: Yeah. I was hoping to make the dance be more consistent, partly because we’re all going to be wearing matching masks, but… Maybe that was the first mistake.

Chihiro: I’m starting to think trying to unify everyone would be a waste.

Ten: … Okay, then why don’t we just do what we’re doing now at the competition?

Chihiro: Huh?

Ten: The competition’s in less than a week, y’know? So let’s not force things to fit and just go to the competition like this—.

Chihiro: Tenchamu… That’s a great idea!!

Ten: …Oh, it is?

Chihiro: Team Chii and Co. have only just formed, so it’s not like we can compete with pro street dancers. But the power of everyone’s individuality is unbeatable.

Chihiro: That’s why I think it’d be so interesting to abandon the idea that “it’s beautiful and cool to dance in sync” and try to make it a dance that fully shows off everyone’s individuality, don’tcha think!?

Muneuji & Toi & Kiroku: …

Muneuji: My apologies, I’m not sure if I follow…

Chihiro: Ahh, sorries! Basically, how about we change the theme of our dance?

Kiroku: Huh, right… now…?

Chihiro: Of course, we’ll only change the organization and direction to a degree that we can handle, so don’t worry. So let’s all turn to the whiteboard~.

Chihiro: Our new theme is here!

*Chihiro writes on the whiteboard*

Toi: “Formality doesn’t matter”?

Muneuji: “Feel free to do what you want and be a free as you want to make the most of your individuality”?

Kiroku: “Cat… dance”...?

Chihiro: …So, what do y’all think?

Muneuji & Toi & Kiroku: We like it!

Chihiro: And you, Tenchamu!?

Ten: Ah, yeah, yeah. I think that’s good too~. Cats are pretty free-spirited and all~.

Chihiro: Perfect, those were the responses I was looking for~♪ M’kay, let’s rework the routine and get to practicing!

Muneuji & Toi & Kiroku: Oka~y!

Chihiro: (...I’m sure this’ll be a great dance. This way, the stage will be a place where each member’s individuality and charm can be made use of.)

Chihiro: (I just know it…!)

[ ⇠ Previous Part ] • [ Next Part ⇢ ]

[brklynbb]

Having a baby with Darry, what it would be like in the hospital giving birth while literally the entire gang is trying to find a way to see you. The Curtis brothers being your immense support team. And everyone thinking it funny when the baby ends up looking like a clone of Darry.

LMAOOOO im so sorry im imagining patrick swazey’s head on a baby’s body

but yes ofc ill do this!!! I love that the curtis brothers are like a support team :) and i did it in headcanons, i hope that’s alright xx

── •✧• ──

can’t help falling in love

having darry curtis’s kid

cw - reader giving birth, pain mention (because the readers obviously giving birth LMAO)

── •✧• ──

- let’s start with darry, because he’s literally PANICKING

- the love of his life is giving birth and he’s about to have a goddamn child??? that’s crazy

- and the guys are not being any help

- they’re trying to get through the door but the nurses won’t let them

- and they’re all like ‘cmon man, this is just as much our partner as it is darry’s!!” like no you didn’t put a child in them, did you, two-bit??????

- and Darry’s like “get out i don’t want u seeing my partner naked and giving birth u idiots”

- he spends pretty much the entire time trying to convince the gang to leave, and they eventually walk away

- but the nurses realize that sodapop and ponyboy are technically your brothers-in-law, so they let them in

- his attention is instantly directed on you after the gang leaves

- he’s there right by your side, holding your hand

- while you’re giving birth, sodapop makes the mistake of asking “can i see?”

- he’s not quite the same afterwards

- ponyboy is holding your other hand out of instinct, because he see’s you’re in a LOT of pain and he’s a little sweetie pie

- darry is muttering swears under his breath as the baby starts to come

- and you swear you can see a few tears leaving his eyes, but you’re in too much pain to really tell

- what you can see is that that the gang has now snuck through the window to be in the room with you

- they’re all cheering you on through the final few pushes

- but the nurses to ask everyone to leave once the baby is actually coming, & only the father can stay

- there’s lots of frowns and groans, but they all reluctantly leave

- fast forward to when the baby is born!!

- it was a long birth, because it’s darry’s baby, it’s bound to be big LMAOO

- when you can finally see your baby, he’s literally the exact resemblance of his father, it makes you tear up

- and you think you’re getting all emotional and crying as you’re holding your child, but then you turn over to darry, and he’s SOBBING

- family is let in after a while of you two meeting your baby

- two-bit LAUGHS

- “why is it so fat????” “oh my god- it looks just like darry” “it’s bald!!!??? hello??? where’d it’s hair go???”

- he’s stupid

- and you look over and see ponyboy tearing up

- awwww sweet boy

- “ponyboy why are you crying? i should be the one crying, little buddy.”

- “it looks just like you, dar. how could i not?” hed answer

- and they all get turns holding the baby, except dallas, because he hates kids and doesn’t like the fact that it came out of ur you-know-what

- they’re all intently staring at the baby, because it looks exactly like darry

- literally a spitting image of him

- you slap two-bit and steve across the face because they’re laughing so much

- sodapop was a bit too scared to be close to you during the birth, but now, as you’re holding his neice, he’s hugging you so hard you think you might explode

- he’s so thankful to have this new child in his life, and he really hopes that this baby has a better life than the curtis brothers did

- because the poor boys have gone through so much, and now they’re going to do everything in their power to make sure this baby doesn’t go through the same shit

[ghost-town-story]

FebruarOC Day 22: Vanessa (Nessa)

“Theo,” Aiden sang, slinging an arm around Theo’s shoulders. “Wanna go get ice cream with me?”

“Sure.” Theo pushed himself away from the garage wall. “Is this a whole band thing or are we gonna be doing delivery?”

“Delivery,” Nessa, Jack, Sam, and Aiden all replied in near-unison.

Theo eyed them all suspiciously. “Alright…” He turned to Brian. “You want anything?”

Brian hesitated, and for a few moments Nessa swore he and Theo were having some sort of silent argument as Theo stared him down.

Finally, Brian appeared to give in. “Strawberry.”

“Sounds good.” Theo reached up and kissed Brian quick, his cheeks turning pink as Jack whistled at him. “We’ll be back soon. You driving Aid?”

“Yup,” Aiden replied.

As they made their way out of the garage, Theo shot Nessa a pointed look of disapproval. Nessa gave him an innocent smile in return. After all, he had no ledge to stand on considering he’d done the same exact thing she was going to do, back when Aiden and Jaybird first started getting serious.

Theo apparently recognized the futility on some level, because he didn’t drag his feet to attempt to win their stare-down. Either that, or he didn’t want Aiden to start dragging him to the car.

Once they had gotten into the car and disappeared around the corner, Nessa clapped her hands together. “Alright,” she said, turning to Brian. “Now that I have you here by yourself…”

Brian looked up from his phone, and raised an eyebrow when he caught Nessa’s eye. “If this is an intervention, Theo’s already got that covered,” he said.

“Concerning that that’s your first impression of this,” Nessa said, “but no, it’s not.”

Brian shrugged and pocketed his phone. “Fair enough. What’s up.”

“So, now that you ‘n Theo have made it public, it’s time we gave you the Talk.” Nessa gave Brian a shark grin.

“Kid, are you honestly trying to give me the sex talk right now?” Brian smirked. “And do you really think I need it?”

“Nah, I figure your parents and/or the internet have done a good enough job of that one already,” Nessa said. “We just gotta give you the Theo talk.”

Brian raised an eyebrow. “Okay.”

“So,” Nessa said, “as his best friends, it’s our duty to warn you that if you hurt him in any way, we will make you regret it.”

“We’ll be coming for those kneecaps,” Sam piped up.

“And your whiskey,” Jack added.

Brian narrowed his eyes at Jack. “Up till now, it just felt like I was being mugged by a gang of toddlers,” he said. “But that? That’s a goddamn threat.”

“That’s the point.” Nessa patted him on the shoulder. “So, don’t hurt Theo, and we’re all good.”

“Fair, but you’re not allowed back in my apartment now that I know you’re eyeing up my whiskey,” Brian said, aiming the latter part at Jack.

“Shucks,” Jack said, sounding not at all disappointed.

“Is this the entire reason for Aiden wanting ice cream?” Brian continued, turning to Nessa. “So y’all could attempt to threaten me without Theo getting offended?”

“That, and Aiden is legitimately a bit upset that Theo kept it from him this long,” Nessa answered.

Brian winced. “Yeah, okay, I definitely got the better deal then.”

[deadnightcoffeetime]

The Monster Of Willow Creek (Tales Of Horror Segment 2) (COPY RIGHT) Page 30

Steven finishes the symbol and gets up. “Alright, I’m finished.”, said Steven. “Good! Let’s go inside.”, said Isaac. Unexpectedly, the monster slashes Steven’s throat, making it gushing out blood. Isaac screams and falls on his butt, as Steven turns around to look at Isaac one final time. The others heard Isaac screaming, they all ran to see the problem. Steven’s body falls in font of Isaac. The monster is fully revealed, from top to bottom. The monster had s deer head, with sharp teeth, antlers on its head, and sunken eyes. The body is boney, with missing patches of skin also. Isaac screams louder for seeing the wendigo in the flesh. The monster roars back, as the group arrives, seeing the monster in person. Becky and Michelle screams. “WHAT THE HELL?!”, said Eric. Alyana is shocked, and so is Leon. “Get in the circle!”, said Alyana. The gang steps inside the circle. “ISAAC, GET IN THE CIRCLE!!!”, said Alyana. Isaac quickly gets up and steps inside the circle, just before the monster slashes his back. The monster stops it’s arm, knowing it cannot go through the circle. It roars out of anger again, it then takes Steven’s body to the woods, dragging it. Eric and Leon goes on to get Isaac, holding him from leaving the circle, as the girls goes on entering the cabin. “Let me go! I gotta go get my boy!”, said Isaac. “And end up dead in the dark woods!? Besides, you don’t how anything to protect yourself! There’s nothing you can do, nothing!”, said Eric. The guys drag Isaac back inside the cabin, then the door closes. “Sorry about Steven, Isaac. He was all our friend.”, said Alyana. Isaac stayed silent. “So, what do we do, do we all sleep, or one of us stays up to look out and take turns?”, said Becky. “No, let’s all sleep. We’ll need our energy for tomorrow. We’re all going to sleep here, again.”, said Eric. “Should we take our stuff too?”, said Michelle. “No. That will only slow us down. We’ll come back for our stuff, once we tell the police what happened.”, said Eric. The gang agrees with the idea. They all sit on the couch and floor, resting.

It’s 1:30 a.m on Monday morning, the gang are sleeping on the floor next to the fire. The cabin door is barricaded by furniture. Outside the cabin, the wind picks up. The symbols are the ground are being swept off, leaving the gang helpless and giving the monster an advantage. The monster runs towards the cabin door, and aggressively pounds the door repeatedly while roaring. The gang frantically wakes up. “Ah, fuck, it’s back!”, said Becky. They all quickly get up while watching the door being pounded on. “What the…How?! I thought the symbols are supposed to protect us!”, said Eric. “It does! Maybe the wind swept the symbols away!”, said Alyana. “Ah, goddamn it!”, said Eric. The monster breaks the door, by punching a hole on the center of it. Making the game shaken and scared. “Fuck! Let’s leave out the back!”, said Eric. The gang runs to the kitchen, as the monster continues to destroy the door. The monster fully breaks the door in pieces, it moves the couch out of the way and runs after the gang with great speed. The gang exits through the back one by one, all circling back to the front of the cabin. The monster exits out through the back, catching up to the gang. Now in front of the cabin, everyone looks back, as they’re running, seeing the monster catching up. Each of them tries to run as fast as they can, but the monster slashes Isaac on the back. He screams and falls. The gang stops and tries to save Isaac. Eric and Leon finds two big broken branches to use, hitting the monster from taking Isaac. The monster eats pissed offend starts to fight back, pushing, punching, and slashing, at the guys. Alyana and Becky, quickly grabs Isaac from the ground. Eric is pushed to the ground with tremendous force by the monster. Leon is then scratched on his arm, and is pushed to the ground as well. Since Leon is close, the monster goes up to him. As the monster is about to slash Leon as its next victim, Alyana yells. “NO!!”. She quickly looks around for something, luckily there’s another big broken branch on the ground. She picks up the branch and runs towards to the monster, before killing Leon. The monster is hit on its back by Alyana, now getting even more pissed off, the monster turns around and slashes her on the right shoulder. She falls, Isaac shouts. “Aly!!”. With a bit of energy, he goes grabbing the monster by the back, giving Alyana a chance to escape. Eric and Leon-grabs Alyana from the ground. The monster manages to push off Isaac, making him hit the ground again. He’s then grabbed by his leg, the monster starts to drag Isaac inside the woods. Everyone goes on to chase after Isaac through the woods, trying to save him. Half way in the woods, the monster increases its speed to outrun the gang with Isaac, leaving a trail on the ground. The gang tried their best to pick up the speed, but cannot go any longer, due to fatigue. They stop, as Isaac’s screams echos in the dark woods. They grew more upset, especially Eric. “FUCK!”, said Eric. “Eric, we can’t go on through the woods in the dark. It’s mot safe.”, said Leon. “Then, what do you suggest we do then?!”, said Eric. “I don’t know! But, we gotta find a place to lay low, until morning.”, said Leon. The girls looks around the dark woods, hoping to find some type of shelter. Becky spots a structure of a small cabin in the distance. “Guys, there’s a small cabin down there.”, said Becky. The gang sees the cabin, and decides to spend the night there. They’re walking towards the cabin, the closer they approach, the clearer the building shows, it’s a small shed. “It’s not a cabin, it’s a shed.”, said Eric, “it’s something, at least! Better than nothing!”, said Becky. Eric arrives at the shed first, then pushes the door open, but wouldn’t open. The door seems to be stuck, Eric uses the force of his body to push it open. The door opens, and the gang enters. Alyana is the last one to enter, she turns around and closes the door. Inside the shed are garden tools, and are all cramped in. “This is going to be one uncomfortable night.”, said Alyana.

[goodmorgan]

The Road Back to Valentine

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Female Reader

Summary: Arthur Morgan tries to understand what happened to you when you come back to camp with a bloody fist.

Word Count: 1.6K

Warnings: 18+. Mentions of violence, blood and bruises. Hurt/comfort. Pre-smut. Established relationship. Reader is a little mean to Arthur but apologizes.

AO3 Link

A/N:  This is set in chapter 3 at Clemens Point.

"What the hell happened to you, woman?" You'd never seen Arthur Morgan this upset, his voice high-pitched, eyes bulging, incredulous at what he was seeing.

You have just gotten off your horse, finally back from Rhodes, and are in no mood to talk, adrenaline and anger flowing through you as you head to Pearson's wagon to fetch some ice. Arthur keeps blocking your way, trying to get you to talk to him, making you zigzag your way around camp to avoid him.

"Talk to me, goddamn it! I wanna know what happened!" He grabs you by the shoulders so you can't move. He looks at your hand, your knuckles bloody and swollen, still forming a fist. You had tried to clean some of the blood on your clothes so it looks like you have just butchered a deer. Your hair is a mess and you have some bruises on your cheeks. You look completely disheveled. He scans you from head to toe in search of any other injuries.

"Will you let go of me, or am I gonna have to sock you too?" You don't mean your words but you don't have the patience to explain yourself to him right now. He lets go of you with a stunned look, staring at a very different woman from the one he has come to know.

You came into the gang as an outsider, the opposite of an outlaw, upper class daughter of a wealthy man from Saint Denis, running away from her troubled past. You felt welcomed by the gang, for the most part, and have tried your best to assimilate, learning as much as possible and contributing in any way you can. Thanks to your high society connections, you were able to find out some valuable information that led to the gang's most successful train robbery yet. It took you some time to get accustomed to being around all the violence and so far you've stayed cleared of it. But now it looks like you've become all too familiar with their vicious ways.

It seems like it was just yesterday that Arthur took you out to teach you to hunt. You were squeamish throughout the whole thing, feeling sorry as you killed your first rabbit. "I'm sorry, Mr. Morgan, I'm just not used to such things" you told him, uncomfortable with having to cause pain to an innocent creature.

"That's alright, miss. I think it's best I hunt and you keep watch, ok?" he said, putting you out of your misery. After he had caught a deer, you went over to try to help him stow it on his horse and that's when you stole your first kiss from him. You've been inseparable since and he has tried his best to shield you from the brutality of an outlaw life. That remained true until the moment he saw you that with that bloody fist in your hand.

"You got any ice, Mr. Pearson?" you ask as you slowly open and close your fist, pain flashing in your knuckles.

"I'm afraid not, Miss Y/N. Haven't had ice for a few days now."

You walk away disappointed and head to the nearest shore in camp. You feel Arthur's eyes staring at the back of your head. You kneel down and submerge your fist on the cold lake water and you start to feel some relief, the blood diluting away from your skin. You open your fist and wash the knuckles thoroughly with your other hand. You're still hot from the rage burning inside you so you wash your face until you feel Arthur's presence again.

"You should use some of this cream to help it heal" he says as he crouches down, placing a little round container next to you. You can tell he is deeply concerned, more than willing to take care of you, but only if you let him. A few seconds pass before he gets the courage to speak again. "You feel like telling me what happened now?"

"No. I got into a fight and that's it." You reply curtly, which only makes him more worried.

"A fight? Where?" This is so unlike you.

"At the saloon."

"You got into a brawl?" His voice pitched again in astonishment.

"Yes, and I don't want to talk about it anymore so can you please drop it?" you say, still reeling from the anger. You regret it as soon as you look at him because he has the saddest eyes you've ever seen, feeling hurt from your scolding. He places a small kiss on your head and dashes back to camp before you can apologize. You rub the ointment on your hand feeling like a fool.

With a lump in your throat, you go back to your tent and change clothes, thinking how hard you're going to have to scrub your skirt to wash out the blood. Some of it isn't even yours. You look at yourself in the mirror and you recoil at the sight, finally understanding Arthur's concern. You sure have come a long way from those balls and banquets in Saint Denis. You rub some of Arthur's cream on the bruises and hope for the best.

The night is upon you when you decide to bite the bullet, so you head out to the campfire to find him. The fellas were in very high spirits because a singalong had broken out. You spot Arthur enjoying himself next to Charles and Hosea but he stops when he sees you approach, that concerned look on his face again. He gets up and heads to his tent. You pick up his cue and follow him with a relaxed hand and a cool head.

He sits on his cot watching you come in. "So, are you ready to talk about it or are you gonna bite my head off some more?" You close the tent flaps behind you.

You sit next to him and he grabs your hand, inspecting the knuckles closely. He's had enough experience with fistfights to know when to worry. When he's done, he lifts your hand up to his lips and plants the softest kiss on it. You feel terrible for driving him away before. "I'm real sorry, Arthur".

He goes to kiss you on the lips next and you flinch as they land on the cut of your upper lip. "So are you gonna tell me why you've come home looking like that?" He tries his best not to aggravate you. "You tell me who did this to you and I will put him in his grave!"

"If I tell you, you'll no longer think I'm a lady" you confess, scared of what he might think of this messy and bloody new you.

"Sweetheart, I haven't thought of you as a lady for a long time now" he drawls out, a stupid smile on his face. You can't help but smile too. He places his hand high on your inner thigh and squeezes, kindly reminding you: "Not since that night in Valentine, darlin'." Your heart races at his touch and the memory.

Finally at ease, you decide to tell him what happened, come what may.

"The truth is I went in for a drink at the saloon and somebody started talking about Sheriff Gray's new deputies in town. I thought it would be interesting to hear what they had to say about you, so I stayed". You see him staring at you with the most attentive eyes and you trip on your train of thought a little.

"Well, uh, yeah. I, uh, didn't hear anything interesting until someone mentioned you by name and it's this girl from the saloon, she gets all excited and starts talking about you, saying she's had you for breakfast and you've told her you boys are really oilmen and are gonna take her out west and make her rich. So I told her to stop running her goddamn mouth, blabbing about things that ain't true, but she kept insisting, saying she was your sweetheart and well, darling, I just had to punch her in the mouth." You take a breath. "And then her friends, or uh, colleagues, or whatever, start fighting with me to defend her and, well, I had to hit them too!"

Arthur stares at you in amazement, unsure of what to say at your confession, allowing you to finish: "After that, I guess some men in the bar broke up the fight. Last thing I know some fella put me on my horse and I came straight back to camp."

He finally reacts. "Sweetheart, you can't go around punching people!" You suddenly snicker at the outlaw telling you not to be violent. "That ain't like you!"

"They were telling crazy lies about you! I wasn't going to have it! I had to defend you!"

Arthur suddenly blushes at the thought of you defending his honor. "You can't go around town starting fights, darlin! I’m a man of the law now!" You can tell from his voice that he's a little proud that his woman came out swinging for her man. "I don't want you starting trouble over me again, you hear?"

"Or what? What are you gonna do, Mr. Deputy, are you gonna arrest me?" You cackle and flick the little deputy badge on his chest in contempt. He picks up your cue and gets that familiar twinkle in his eye, a smirk in the corner of his mouth.

"Well, I can think of at least one way of punishing you, little lady." He squeezes your inner thigh again and starts lifting your skirt with his other hand. You're quick to unbuckle his belt.

That night, like so many nights before, he leads you down the road back to Valentine.

__________________________

A/N: This is my first fic in a very long time but I felt inspired. I hope you enjoyed it! Feedback is very welcomed!

[itsclydebitches]

OFMD Party Drabble #9

Prompt: Symbolism (with bonus idiom!)

A/N: I didn’t get the chance to write a section of this yesterday, so I thought the final installment should have both days’ prompts :D Part One, Two, and Three

“You take this every day, mate? Fucking boring if you ask me.”

Edward slid low enough that his long legs (damn him) just barely touched the seat across, nudging the bit of gum stuck there with the toe of his boot. Izzy slapped his knee and motioned him upwards right before a businessman can barreling through, too busy looking at his phone to catch the leather obstacle in his path. Izzy shot Edward The Look™ and made a mental note to clean his boots when they got home. Honestly, sometimes it was like raising a child more than it was dating a grown fucking man.

But then Edward swung his legs over Izzy’s lap instead, grinning lasciviously, and just like that any thoughts of cleaning or time outs were forgotten.

Fucking handsome prick.

“You couldn’t pay me to sit on that death trap, Edward, let alone ride it. And yes, I take the tube every day. To the job I’ve had for over twenty years. In your restaurant. In the city where we’ve lived our entire lives.” 

Edward shrugged. “Still fucking boring. I’ll get you a Kawasaki for your birthday.”

“Don’t you fucking dare.”

Izzy already knew what he was getting for his birthday: some nonsense purchase that Edward picked up in a panic on his way home, an hour of entirely unnecessary apologies, and then a night of thoroughly indulgent, mind-blowing sex. It happened every fucking year. Edward always went in with the best intentions and then inevitably lost track of the date, that brilliant mind of his too busy with important matters to remember if it was the 1st or the 2nd—or if either of those were even Izzy’s birthday. He didn’t care and being the planner of the two, Izzy got to playfully rub it in his face on occasion, privately enjoying the blushing, spluttering mess Edward became when he did. It was the little things in life, truly.

Idly, Izzy wondered what Stede was like with birthdays. They’d likely find out soon enough.

After receiving the video, Edward had finally gotten over that absurd block of his and texted Stede, violence acting not such much as an icebreaker, but a goddamn rocket launcher that tossed them both into a virtual bonding session that would put any teen magazine to shame. Edward now knew the names and dating partners of all Stede’s interns. Stede had sent over tutorials for Edward to learn to braid his hair. They’d swapped recipes, childhood memories, custom emojis, made plans to snag lunch at a local tea place... honestly, Izzy might have been jealous if Edward hadn’t been running up to him every five minutes, shoving his phone in Izzy’s face to share the nonsense.

And, of course, if calling Stede hadn’t been his idea in the first place.

“Look,” Edward chuckled. He flipped his phone around to reveal some weird GIF playing. It looked like a man talking to a seagull. Izzy squinted at the contact.

“Are you texting Stede again?”

“Uh huh.”

“Edward, we’re meeting him at the restaurant.”

“So?”

Izzy opened his mouth... then shut it. Alright. Fucking fine. Far be it from him to reassert social niceties like not chatting through every halfway decent topic before they’d even gotten through the appetizers.

...Not that he counted weird bird-man GIFs to be an appropriate first date conversation.

Izzy knocked his head against the window. “What the fuck have I gotten myself into?”

Edward snickered. “You love it.”

“Do I? Fucking do I, you lunatic? Because I swear to god, Edward, if you two idiots think you’re gonna gang up on me, I—”

Oh. Shit.

Speak of the devil.

Izzy straightened, accidentally knocking into Edward who listed with a squawk. Fuck, but he should have realized this was a possibility, given that they’d ended up on the same route before. Because there was Stede, stepping into the car with that goddamn smile on his face—no doubt caused by whatever Edward had just texted back.

Then Stede looked up and caught his eye. Izzy had the ridiculous impulse to smooth back his hair.

“Stede!”

Edward was up, scrambling, knocking into him this time, and Izzy watched with an indulgent huff as his two fools met in the middle, clasping hands like two 18th century ladies meeting up after some long absence. Technically speaking this was the first time Edward had ever met Stede face-to-face, but you sure as fuck wouldn’t know it based on how they were touching. Resigned to refereeing the PDA all night, Izzy stood and gave Stede an awkward nod.

“You okay?” Izzy asked.

Shit, he’d planned to ignore that little mishap, but something about Stede’s smile, combined with that scarf he wore on an otherwise muggy night, had Izzy’s hackles rising again. With a rueful look, Stede tugged on the scarf to reveal a small burn spanning his neck. Nothing terrible—certainly not by his and Edward’s standards—but vicious looking nonetheless. Edward made a sound like a kicked cat.

“She’s being charged with assault, if you can believe it,” Stede said. He shot Izzy another winning smile, the fucker warming him straight down to his bones. “Plenty of witnesses, of course, but the recording you found will help immensely.” Then Stede leaned close, his voice dropping conspiratorially. “I cannot believe you punched the Badmintons!”

“Is that those fuckers’ name?” Izzy drawled.

“Oh yeah, Iz is real good at punching people,” Edward put in. He mimed a one-two that had Stede rearing back before settling on a laugh. “Anyone else gives you trouble, just call him up. He’ll set ‘em straight. Or crooked, if we’re talking noses and bones.” Edward grinned—a less than kind expression.

Izzy just nodded. It was the truth after all.

“Well, I’ll have to keep that in mind and—oh! Right!” Stede suddenly began rummaging around in the same stupidly ornate bag of his, what sounded like a whole house’s worth of shit rattling inside. “I got you both a gift as a ‘thank you’ and—ah! Here it is.”

From the depths came two identical key-chains: lighthouses, complete with sea-spray and a shining light.

“Whoa, thanks!” Edward cried, already clipping it onto his phone.

Izzy stared at the little sculpture. It was stupidly detailed for what should have just been a touristy bit of plastic. Besides, “I told you I’m not a fucking sailor, Stede.”

Edward whacked him over the head.

“Hey!”

“Rude, mate.”

“You fuckwit, I’ve already got a headache!”

Stede just laughed at their antics, one hand coming up to rub anxiously at the back of his neck. “No, Izzy’s right, Ed. I realize it’s a rather strange gift and... oh heavens, this is going to make it sound even worse, but I swear I mean it in the least, uh... creepy way possible?” Stede flinched at whatever had flit across Izzy’s face. “Well, you see, the lighthouse was a symbol between my ex-wife and I, a romantic one. At least it was supposed to be. ‘We will be as lighthouses to one another, beacons through the hardships of life...’ The priest’s service was actually quite nice, just not when it was given to two people pressured into the marriage. To make a rather long story short, I came out, Mary and I divorced, we have brunch every Sunday and she’s always been adamant that I should re-appropriate the lighthouse for whoever I do love and...” He gestured helplessly towards the key-chains, then jerked like he’d been given an electric shock. “Not that I’m saying we’re in love yet! I just wanted to thank you and had such high hopes for this date and I—”

“Stede,” Izzy said. “Stop talking. I love it.” Love you, probably. Fuck. “Edward loves his too.”

Edward just let out a low whistle. “Wow, is this what it’s like talking to me? Fucking crazy, mate.”

He slung an arm over Stede’s shoulder and guided him towards a seat, teasingly pinching the blush in his cheeks. Izzy followed, slipping the key-chain onto his own phone case, and then stealthily snagging a pic of the two of them in their first embrace. He had no idea, of course, that in a week he’d already have that picture printed and framed, sitting in his office at the Bar & Grill. Or that in less than a year Edward would drag that old bit of red cloth from their closet, the one he’d always planned to tie their hands together with in a civil union, stroking it gently with hope in his eyes. Or that six months after that Izzy would have two rings on his left hand, fitted perfectly against one another.

Or that through it all, a stupid lighthouse key-chain would still be the thing that made his heart skip several beats.

Fucking tube rides, Izzy thought as Edward’s laughter lit up the car, Stede’s following right after. Then, fond: As if I’d ever take a Kawaski over this.

What he had was already perfect.

[mandareeboo]

If you’re doing inside job drabbles, maybe rand shoves/pushes raegen, and her friends defend her?

The change happens over office poker night.

(Logically, it likely happened over time, possibly well before then, but it's the first time Reagan notices, so she considers it first contact.)

It's her turn to host. Not an abnormal affair, though the gang tried not to do it at her apartment often. This does not offend Reagan in the slightest. She gets why- when you have options like lush, expensive houses and cozy cabins and giant LSD-covered caverns, a shitty apartment with five old pizza boxes and a bottle of amaretto in the fridge and that's it might be unappealing. And that’s not even going into the Cheeto-encrusted pieces of clothing strewn about, or the reek of alcohol and formaldehyde, or just- her father in general, honestly.

She gets it. He’s... a lot. (She’s a lot.)

Not helping matters is that he seems to view the occasion as a Peachy Keen time to try and force her to hang out with him while absolutely shitfaced.

It always starts the same way. Rand will wander into the kitchenette area (the only semi-clean room she has anymore), find them sitting awkwardly at a cheap plastic table, and whoop. He’ll take a long slug of whatever he’s carrying (today is a vodka day, apparently) and plonk his bottle down like it’s his newest invention.

“Alright,” he hums, grinning that grin that makes Reagan have five continuous hernias by principle alone, “Lemme grab a chair and get in on this! Hope you’re all ready, because I’m gonna hand you your asses.”

“Negatory,” Glenn says; which is, in it’s own right, a completely new addition to this formula. Normally Reagan is alone to handle Rand’s shit. He shuffles his two cards around to make himself look busier than he is. “Table is full.”

“Wassat supposed to mean?”

“Oh, honey,” Gigi sighs, patting his hand consolingly. “We’ve all been talking, and we decided it’s best to keep this a workers-only game. It’s nothing personal.”

“Are you serious?” His brow furrows. Reagan mentally braces herself. Vodka tends to aid Rand in his tantrum-throwing abilities. “I helped build the goddamn company you’re clinging to like ticks! I should get the whole damn pot, let alone a seat at the table.”

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Ridley,” Brett says, and Reagan has to give it to him, he actually does sound sorry. “It’s just... you bring a certain element to the game that can... make things difficult.”

Myc slams a tentacle on the table, sick of teasing around the chief complaint. “You cheat! You’re a cheaty motherfucker who can’t play straight to save his life. We want to down shots of rum and lose the same five bucks each like the pathetic job-monkeys we are in peace.”

“I do not!” he claims, but Myc touches his head.

“You do realize thinking about porn won’t mask your cheating intentions, right?” Myc asks. It’s amazing how wry a mushroom can sound with no facial expressions.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he scoffs, and finally seems to realize Reagan is there. He shakes her shoulder. “Reagan, sweetie. Jelly bean. Let daddy play.”

“Sorry, dad,” Reagan says, but she’s really not sorry, and her tone probably gives that away. She’s always had trouble controlling her tone. “I have no power here.”

“You’re really gonna do this,” he needled, “in your old man’s home.”

“My house. I literally pay all the rent and utilities.”

“Our house,” Rand replies, as if that fixes it. 

Reagan sighs and stands up, tucking her chair into place. She forces herself to meet his fuzzy eyes. She hates eye contact. It’s stupid. But when she does it, Rand typically seems to realize she’s serious, even when he’s blasted into next month. “C’mon, dad. Let’s get you to bed. You look exhausted.”

“Are you- are you shooing me away?” he demanded. “I’m a drunk, not a child!”

“Dad-” Reagan starts, touching his arm.

Rand pushes her. Reagan’s hip collides with the table, knocking over some drinks.

This isn’t something that really registers to Reagan as a problem. Sometimes Rand just didn’t like touch when he was drunk. Sometimes he got mean and she had to finagle around him to leave the house. He’s never hit her, but this certainly isn’t the first time she’s been shoved back a foot or so with a drunken swear.

This is, however, the first time Glenn has yeeted his dolphin ass over the table with surprising grace and tackled Rand directly into the wall. “Stand down!” he barked, one arm bracing against Rand’s neck and the other twisting his arm. 

“Whoa, whoa, calm down!” Rand squirmed a little. “I was just telling my daughter to get her head out of her as-” he hissed in pain as Glenn tightened his grip. “God damn it.”

“Now, you listen here,” Glenn says, once Rand has quieted, “I didn’t come here to listen to a grown man whine and stomp his feet and mistreat the only reason he’s not out on his ass. You’re gonna walk back out that doorway and sleep off the svedka, or I will take great pleasure in tazing you at a level that will impair cognitive function. Are we clear?”

“Alright, fine!” Glenn lets him go. Rand cracks his neck with a moan and shoots Reagan a glare, as if that was somehow her fault, spitting over his shoulder, “Come get me when you’re done being a bitch.”

“Wow,” says Reagan, a bit amazed he’d gotten Rand to back down. “Thanks, Glenn.”

“He was holding my impending payout hostage,” he said simply, plopping down in his chair. Everyone could see Glenn was heaving pretty hard- the hold had taken a lot out of him. “This is America. We don’t negotiate with terrorists.”

Brett reaches out to touch her arm as Reagan sits down. Her hip stings and her skins itches at the contact. All in all, a normal Tuesday. “You shouldn’t have to deal with that,” he says.

And what’s she supposed to say to that? “No, duh, but I literally can’t get rid of him? And every time I send him to rehab he’s come back worse and angrier? And he could spell the world’s secrets if I don’t give in? And some part of me still loves him?” It’s too sappy. 

She shrugs, picks up her cards, and says, “I fold.” while ignoring the looks they all give her. Reagan doesn’t want pity. Everything she ever done has ended with her right where she is now. 

It’s her own damn fault.

[ragingbookdragon]

Hell In A Cell

Batsis x Batfamily One-Shot

Word Count: 2K Warnings: Explicit Language and Violence

Author's Note: I can't believe I haven't put this one back up yet. Nothing's more fun than WWE references when you're kicking ass, ya feel? -Thorne

They could feel her eyes on them as they stared at their hands, too afraid to meet her gaze. Dick suddenly found the beds of his nails interesting, Jason and Tim kept looking at the steel seats they were sitting on, and Damian just turned towards the front. She sat opposite of them, on the bench against the other wall, leaning forward, her elbows on her knees. The last time any of them had looked, she had her fingers intertwined and pressed against her lips, her eyes cold and infuriated. After a few moments, Dick gathered the courage to look up from his nails and glanced at her.

He gave a fearful smile and asked, “Uh…sis? Are you still…mad?” Her eyes drifted to his and he visibly flinched from her gaze.

She tipped her mouth away from her fingers and seethed, “Mad is the smallest word for what I am right now.” The others flinched at her fury and looked up, taking in the image of their angered sister.

“It wasn’t that bad (Y/N). We’re just…detained…” Jason’s words died as (Y/N) turned her eyes to him.

“I told you four chuckleheads that the property we were on was protected, but nooooo, ‘we’ll just be in there for five minutes. No one is going to find out’.” She growled as she stood, flinging her arms out to gesture around them.

“Well guess what?! Someone found out! And now we’re stuck in a goddamn jail cell at GCPD, waiting for dad to come bail us out!” Each of their necks disappeared into their shoulders.

Tim spoke quietly. “At least none of us got hurt.”

“It doesn’t matter if none of us got hurt! This is going to be all over the news tomorrow! ‘Billionaire Bruce Wayne’s kids found trespassing on personal property’.” She looked at them as she snapped, “Do you have any idea what this is going to do to our reputations?!”

She turned to Tim. “What this can and will do to the company and future deals?!” (Y/N) sat back down and dropped her head into her hands. “We’ll be lucky to come out of this unscathed.” She groaned loudly and rubbed her face with her hands, sighing tiredly, “Dad’s going to be so pissed when he gets here.”

“Father will not be angry at us sister. He will understand what we were doing.”

(Y/N) let out another heavy sigh and from behind her hands, she muttered, “Oh, he’s going to be angry. He’s going to blow a gasket he’s going to be so angry. I highly doubt—”

A shout from the back of the room cut her off. “Will you five shut the hell up? God, you’ve been complaining ever since you got in here.” The comments made the four boys turn their heads to a group sitting in the back.

(Y/N) pulled her head up and turned, her voice dark as she retorted, “Buddy, I’m in a less than stellar mood right now and unless you don’t want me to show you what your insides look like—I’d advise you to shut the fuck up.”

Her threat made him stand up and he started walking towards her, his group of thugs following in tow. “What did you just say to me rich-bitch? Wanna repeat that?”

When he finally stopped walking, he was right in front of her, and she could see her brothers beginning to rise from their seats for a quick defense. She raised a few fingers in their direction, telling them to wait.

(Y/N) looked up at him as she rose from her seat, coming nose to nose with him. She pulled the most intimidating face she could muster and repeated, “I said, unless you want me to show you what your insides look like…shut the fuck up.”

The man turned to his friends and started laughing, causing them to follow in suit, then he turned back to her. “I don’t think you understand the position you’re in sweetheart.” He motioned to his friends. “We’re in Two-Face’s gang.” He motioned to a group in the corner. “And those clowns work for Joker.”

He turned back to her and reached out, shoving her shoulder. “You’re locked in here with us. Imagine what we’ll do to five rich kids that don’t have any bodyguards to protect ‘em.” The others laughed, and (Y/N) shot a quick glance to her brothers along with a nod before looking back at the man and letting out a dark chuckle. A feeling of apprehension came over them as they stopped laughing.

She flashed him an unsettling grin and leaned forward, whispering, “No pal, I don’t think you understand. We aren’t locked in here with you.” Her brothers rose, moving to her sides and she leaned back. “You’re locked in here with us.”

The man’s eyes widened, and she jerked forward to grab the back of his neck and slammed his head into the seat she’d previously been sitting on. He dropped and the cell went dead silent.

The gang members in the back had stood up, and (Y/N) looked at the ones in front of her. “Who’s next?” No one moved an inch, and she tipped her head side-to-side. “C’mon jackasses, we’re gonna be here all night. We might as well get this over with.”

The gang members looked at each other before nodding and they turned to her and her brothers. “You’re so going to regret that.”

(Y/N) tipped her head and gave a quick glance to her brothers, grinning evilly. “Whoever knocks out the most thugs gets to come with me to Tokyo next week.” They matched her grins and they got into fighting stances.

She turned back to the group and taunted, “Let’s dance.”

***

They all collapsed onto the metal benches, sweating and bleeding; (Y/N) glanced at Dick who was holding the collar of his shirt to his busted lip. “You good Dickie?”

He looked at her and tossed her a thumbs up, and she turned to Jason. “How’s the nose?” He grunted and held his nose before sucking in a breath and shoving it back into place with a sickening crunch. The others winced at the sound, and Jason let go of his nose, slamming his head back into the wall a few times.

“I’ll take it that you’re better now?” He raised a few fingers and she reached down, tearing a piece of one of the unconscious gang-member’s shirts and tossing it to Tim. “Put that on your eyebrow Timmy.” He caught it and raised it to his left eyebrow that had been spilt open.

He nodded at her and she finally looked at Damian who was continually spitting blood on the floor. “You alright Dami?”

He spat once more and looked at her. “I got a tooth knocked out.”

The others turned to him and leaned forward, trying to see. “Lemme see!”

He opened his mouth, pointing to a tooth in the bottom left of his mouth. “It was a baby tooth, so there’s no problem.”

Jason snorted, but immediately regretted it as he reached up to hold his nose; he turned to Damian. “You’re thirteen and you still have baby-teeth?” Damian’s retort was cut off by a tennis shoe whacking Jason in the head, and they turned to see (Y/N) reclining against the wall.

“Jason don’t be a douchebag.” He grumbled at her and rubbed the side of his head, but conceded, and silence filled the cell once again.

After a few moments, the sound of footsteps came from down the hall and they all turned their heads to see their father, Alfred, and Gordon staring at them in shock. They flashed sheepish smiles, and (Y/N) waved a hand. “Hey dad, hey Alfie…hey Commissioner Gordon.”

“What in God’s name happened here?!”

(Y/N) looked around at the ground littered with unconscious gangmembers and turned back, grinning. “Uh…they got their asses kicked six ways from Sunday.”

“Why?!”

“Well, first they insulted us, and secondly, they put their hands on us. So technically, we were well within our rights to whoop ass.”

Her father glared at her and rebuked angrily. “(Y/N) Wayne, not another word.” She gave him a mock salute and shut her mouth; Bruce turned to Gordon and began discussing something, and a few minutes later, her and her family were walking out to the waiting car.

They all climbed in and waited for Bruce to start yelling at them; no words came from him, but they could tell he was seething with rage. A few moments went by and they pulled into an abandoned parking lot.

Bruce turned around and let them all have it. “You’re all off patrol for two months. Reason number one, the trespassing. Reason number two, the Hell in a Cell you five had.” He paused and threw his hands in the air. “What the hell were you five thinking?”

They all looked at (Y/N) who rolled her eyes and scoffed, “Yeah sure, look at the oldest and expect her to explain.” They giggled at her and she turned to her dad. “First and foremost, I can’t believe you just used a WWE term. Secondly, they were thugs, and we were attacked. So, by default, we just responded naturally.”

“And breaking skulls and bones is natural?”

“Is that a legit question?”

“Don’t make me ground you, young lady.”

(Y/N) grunted at him. “I’m twenty-six. You can’t ground me. I don’t even live at home.”

The others watched them bicker until Bruce raised a hand. “Enough. We’ll discuss this at home.”

“Again, I don’t live with you. I live on my own.”

“(Y/N) Wayne.”

“Alright…whatever.” He turned back around and nodded to Alfred, and the car began moving once more.

After a few minutes of silence, Jason cleared his throat and nonchalantly mumbled, “Not that it’s super important right now…but I get to go to Tokyo with you next week.”

“The hell you do! I knocked out the most thugs!”

“No, you didn’t replacement. I did.”

“Neither of you Robin failures completed the challenge correctly. I won it.”

“Not to be rude little D, but you would be incorrect. I won the challenge.”

“Ain’t nobody asked you Dickhead.” This spurred an even bigger fight as the four of them began to bicker in the backseat, and (Y/N) groaned, leaning forward and rested her chin on Bruce’s shoulder.

His head tipped downwards, and he eyed her. “What’s wrong with you?”

(Y/N) rolled her eyes and mumbled, “I gotta them all to Tokyo next week because we aren’t going to be able to figure out who knocked out the most.”

Bruce sighed, but a small grin crossed his lips, and after a few seconds he murmured, “You won the most knocked out, didn’t you?”

“Oh totally.”

“That’s my badass daughter.”

“Hell yeah.”

“Master Bruce! Ms. (Y/N)! Your language!”

They both glanced at Alfred and said, “Sorry Alfred.” They looked back at each other before sharing a smile, then the sound of flying fists reached their ears and they both sighed. Then,

“OW THAT WAS MY NOSE!”

“AND THAT WAS MY LIP!”

“OW YOU LITTLE SPAWN! THAT’S MY ARM YOU’RE BITING!”

(Y/N) glanced over her shoulder and looked at her fighting brothers: Jason had Dick in a headlock while giving him a noogie, and Tim was trying to remove Damian’s teeth from his forearm. She turned back around and looked at Alfred and her dad.

“Do you guys wanna come with me instead of them?”

Bruce eyed her with an eyebrow raised. “Do you really think leaving the city to the four of them is a good idea?”

(Y/N) thought for a moment before muttering, “I mean it’s not a great idea, but it’s an idea nonetheless.”

“One that’s bound to end up in a city on fire.”

“…Yeah you got me there.” She paused a slight second before affirming, “But the offer still stands.”

“No (Y/N).”

“But I don’t want to take them with me.”

“Too bad.”

“Fuck my life.”

“MS. (Y/N)! LANGUAGE!”

[ttuesday]

Okay. Hear me out.

How would Arthur who is so god damn clueless take to just not getting hints that f!Reader WANTS him like WANTS wants.

Someone asks if he’s clueless or plain not interested. “Interested in what?”

Y/n!!!!

Arthur: Oh.... well she’s awful.... ah...cute (he won’t say tempting). Hm.... she’s been pretty snuggly recently too but it’s gettin cold..... -thinks about it for a moment - why’d ya ask?

And finally that someone is just like DUMB ASS. SHE WANTS TO #squeaky toy sound# you!!!!!!

Smexy Arthur NSFW moment where it hits him like a ton of bricks and ALL THE SIGNALS are just flipping through his head like his damn life is flashing before his eyes and he has to find you RIGHT THE FUCK NOW.

I. LOVE. THIS. OMG. OK

It’s Obvious

word count: 975 approx.

(I was gonna do this NSFW but decided to keep it PG but I can always do a steamy part 2 lol)

The job went off without a hitch. You and Arthur rode back to camp with money in your satchels and smiles on your faces.

You both slowed as ye approached the hitching post on the outskirts of camp. Arthur dismounted his horse first but as you dismounted your trusty steed, your foot slipped. "Ah!" you tried to grab the horse's saddle but you failed to grasp it in time.

"Woah there" quick on his feet, Arthur caught you before you could fall into the dirt below. He wrapped his strong arm around your waist and steadied you.

"You alright?" he chuckled, amused by your clumsiness. You could feel your face go red "I, uh, yeah I'm fine". You planted your feet on the ground but Arthur kept his arm around you. "Y'sure?" he asked, a small smile still on his face. 

For a second, you stared at him, momentarily getting lost in his deep blue eyes. You glanced down at his lips before you forced yourself to look away. "Yeah I'm fine," you repeated, stepping away from him "I'll go put the gang's share in the donations box". You gave Arthur a tight smile before turning on your heels and walking away.

Christ, why did you always have to be so goddamn awkward around him? He's just so attractive, you can't help but get flustered whenever he’s near. You unfortunately reminded yourself of the time you got drunk at Sean's return party and tried to flirt with Arthur. You didn't speak to him for a week after that but luckily, you don't think he even realized you were trying to flirt with him.

Arthur sighed as he walked in the opposite direction. He walked through the middle of camp, only stopping when he heard Hosea call him over to a table. As Arthur approached, Hosea folded the newspaper he was reading and smiled at the younger outlaw. "How was your date?" he asked.

Arthur let out a small huff as he broke eye contact "That wasn't a date, we were robbing some fools Trelawny told us about". 

"You two have been off robbing a lot of fools lately," Hosea observed "you make quite the duo". 

Arthur sighed as he sat down at the table "Hosea, it ain't like that". 

"Maybe it's not like that for you..." Hosea trailed off. Arthur didn't reply immediately, instead he let the words sink in. He scrunched up his face, the answer seemed so obvious but he asked Hosea anyways "What's that supposed to mean?".

Hosea gave him a sympathetic smile "I know you like to pretend to be the big dumb cowboy but you ain't that dumb... she likes you and before you ask, yes I mean in a 'more than friends' way".

Arthur shook his head “Nah, she don’t think of me like that”. Hosea slowly stood, holding his newspaper in his hands “Just think about it Arthur, it’s obvious”. And with that, Hosea walked off to find a quiet place to continue his reading.

Arthur stayed seated at the table, deep in thought. He swivelled his head as he scanned camp to find you. You were by Dutch’s tent, nodding your head as Dutch recited a quote from the dearly cherished Evelyn Miller. 

Arthur didn’t believe what Hosea said. You were smart, witty, capable, had a good moral code and absolutely gorgeous. He was convinced you were out of his league.

Arthur adjusted the hat on his head as he thought back to all the robberies the two of you had been doing recently. Sure, sometimes there was some subtle touches and lingering gazes but Arthur thought that he was the only one that felt a spark between the two of you. He thought that maybe you liked him at Sean’s party but his hopes were dashed when you never mentioned it afterwards. 

He looked over at you again. You smiled at something Dutch said before bowing your head and walking away. As you walked away, Arthur thought that maybe you didn’t think he reciprocated your feelings. He felt a sudden surge of panic.

What if you thought he wasn’t interested and now you were moving on to someone else? Arthur stood and began to walk after you. What if he missed his chance to be with you? He picked up his pace as these thought swirled around his brain.

You turned your head at the sound of approaching footsteps. “Hey Arthur,” you smiled at him. Arthur didn’t say anything as he continued to move closer to you. Your smile momentarily faltered, curious if something was wrong.

In those precious moments, Arthur pushed all his doubt and self esteem issues out of his mind. There was only one thing he was focused on. He caught you off guard as he cupped your face and passionately kissed you. 

It took you a few seconds to comprehend what was happening before you slowly began to kiss him back, wrapping your arms around the back of his neck. Arthur moved forward, his lips still entangled with yours. You moaned softly as your back pressed against the trunk of a tree.

Just before you could deepen the kiss, Arthur pulled away to look at you. “I want you” he said in a husky voice. You wanted to melt under his touch. That was all you’ve ever wanted to hear him say and finally, he’s said it. You kissed him again, pulling him closer so he sandwiched your body against the tree. “I want you too” your voice was just above a whisper, still astonished by his actions. Arthur smiled before kissing you again, knowing that this was the start of something beautiful.

[from-a-reckless-writer]

Supercorp - 49 please

Jess has been with her ever since the beginning of time. It might sound like an exaggeration but it really isn't.

Jess was already assigned with her ever since she was the Junior VP of LuthorCorp's Research division back when Lionel was still alive.

And when Lex inevitably drove the whole company into ruin and forced Lena into the limelight as CEO, Jess remained by her side.

So, really, Lena couldn't refuse Jess's resignation letter when it came, finally telling Lena that she wants to expand her horizons. Lena was beyond happy to hear that Jess was interested in going to grad school and finishing her Master's that's been put on hold. At the same time though, she also doesn't know how to let her go. It might sound a little selfish to keep Jess all to herself, but Lena's sure she's going to die the moment, Jess leaves her office.

But of course, Lena let her go, with a hefty final pay and a promise that Jess always has a place with L-Corp.

So truthfully, she doesn't have a problem with Jess leaving, what she does have a problem with, though, is Jess's replacement.

Jess made sure to choose the best of the best from L-Corp's array of eager interns.

Which means Lena has to work with the smartest, kindest, most fucking beautiful intern to ever grace her office.

How inconvenient.

"I'm her boss," she snipes at Sam, for the nth time that night. It's been 6 months of this. Of Kara coming into her office and making Lena's shitty day, less shitty. Of Kara being the most caring person in Lena's life. Of Kara somehow making Lena eat three full meals a day and getting her to sleep on time. Of Kara making her fall and fall, deeper and deeper.

Of Lena trying hard to suppress every little feeling she has when it comes to Kara by whining about it to her friends.

It's been 6 months of this and now it's Christmas and Kara is looking more and more tempting as the evening passes.

"Right, because that hasn't happened before." Sam rolls her eyes. "I haven't seen you look at another woman this way ever, Lena."

"Again," Lena stresses. "I'm her boss. As in, she works for me. She answers calls for me and she arranged this goddamn Christmas party."

"Then fire her," Andrea deadpans, taking a sip from her champagne flute, arm casually wrapped around Sam.

"Mm. I second that idea." Of course, they're ganging up on her. That's their favorite past time--making Lena's love life a source of entertainment.

"Remind me why I'm even talking to the both of you?"

"Because, you've fallen in love for the first time in your life and you don't know what to do because you're emotionally constipated due to family issues and it's Christmas and Kara's standing right there and I'm pretty sure you want to pull her under the mistletoe and we're the only ones who can help," Sam impressively lets out all in one breath.

"I hate you."

"We love you too, Lena," Andrea automatically responds. "Now, go tell Kara she's now unemployed because you want to rail her for the rest of the night."

"You can do it, sweetie. We believe in you." Sam raises her glass in solidarity.

"The both of you should be ashamed of yourselves." Lena glares at the both of them. "Christ, railing..." she murmurs under her breath at the same time she looks up from her drink and into Kara's eyes across the ballroom floor. Kara gives her a small wave, picks up her champagne float as if to toast, Lena raises her drink in turn.

Kara smiles. Lena flushes.

She's going to blame it on the alcohol when Andrea starts to ask.

Kara is on the other side of the ballroom floor, chatting up one of Lena's tech and bioinformatics staff, Wilfred? Winslow?

Whatever his name is, but Kara doesn't seem to be paying any attention, Lena keeps catching her looking at where she is every 5 seconds.

"Lena, for the love of God, stop with the eye-fucking already. If you aren't going to woman up, I'm gonna get Kara over here myself."

Lena knows Sam isn't kidding with her threat. Sam raises her brow in that 'Well, what are you going to do about it?' way that she always does.

"Fire her and get it over with. I heard Cat Grant is hiring."

"Oh my god, you two! Stop it already, I am not going to fire her, and I am not going to break moral code and for the love of God, I DON'T WANT TO RAIL KARA DANVERS, OKAY?!"

She breathes in deep, her heart pounding from her little outburst. Sam's eyes is twice in size and Andrea's lips bitten in an attempt to hold everything in, her left brow twitching.

"What?" Lena grits. "Why are you looking at me like-"

"Ms. Luthor." Somebody taps her on the shoulder and Lena is confronted with the reason why her friends are completely silent all of a sudden.

"Kara," she whispers in horror.

"Uhm." Kara fidgets with the her dress. "I was wondering if I could take a moment of your time? I want to talk with you about something."

Lena clenches and unclenches her fist and tries to rein it in. Fuck, did Kara hear?

"Is it urgent?"

"Uhm yes, sort of," Kara mumbles. And then more nervously, "I promise, it'll be quick!"

"Alright," Lena acquiesces, heart running a mile a minute. She follows Kara and doesn't dare glance back at Sam and Andrea. She doesn't really want to hear what they have to say about the whole turn of events.

Kara leads them out into the empty balcony, National City gleaming brighter than ever before them.

The jazz notes of the holiday serenade from the ballroom fades out and becomes replaced with the soft quiet of the falling snow instead.

"What did you want to talk about, Kara?" Lena dares to ask, goosebumps running along her arm at the cold.

"I, uhm promise me you won't be angry after I tell you?" Kara says, almost a whisper, a plea.

What could be so bad that Kara looks so afraid at the moment?

"I promise, Kara." The words waiting on the tip of her tongue. Eager to give Kara whatever she needs.

"Okay, okay here it goes, okay," Kara mutters under her breath, hands wringing nervously, clearly itching to fiddle with her glasses.

"I want to leave L-Corp."

Lena's heart plummets.

"What?"

Kara steps forward, looks down at the ground and then back to her.

"I- I want to resign. I want to leave L-Corp. I've been thinking about it for a few months now, and I've finally made up my mind. I wanted you to know in advance. I'll be passing a formal letter to HR in January."

Kara's eyes are so blue under the moonlight and her words are chasing each other around in Lena's head. Kara wants to leave. Kara has been thinking about leaving for months.

And here Lena was, expecting her to stick around for forever.

"Why? I thought you were happy at L-Corp? What could possibly be the reason for you to want to leave?"

I thought you were happy with me?

Lena can't help it, the question comes out of her lips without her permission and she can't take it back.

She thought Kara was happy spending time with her, working with her.

But what Kara says next turns Lena's entire world upside down in a heartbeat.

"You," Kara answers.

Everything slows. Time stops and all Lena can see is Kara and only Kara.

"I want to leave. I need to leave. Because of you, Lena. I'm in love with you, Lena."

Lena's first thought is, Fucking hell Andrea and Sam are gonna insufferable after this. Her second being, KARA'S IN LOVE WITH ME, KARA'S IN LOVE WITH ME, KARA'S IN LOVE WI-

"I'm in love with you. And I think you feel something for me too," Kara utters softly.

"And, I also know how much you value L-Corp and how everybody perceives you and I don't want to start something between us, if it would cost you more than it would cost me," Kara tells her reverently, finally closing the gap and taking Lena's shaking hands into hers.

"Oh, God, Kara, I love you too. God, this is crazy, I love you too. I'm so in love with you."

Lena doesn't even feel the cold, all she feels is this crazy, dizzying rush of happiness at finally being able to say what she's been feeling. And to hear it said back to her.

God, is this what it feels like?

Kara is smiling so wide and it takes a moment for Lena to realize that she is, too. She's smiling so hard her cheeks are hurting.

"I really want to kiss you now."

"I really want you to kiss me now, too, Ka-"

She doesn't even get to finish.

Kara presses their lips together and Lena tastes the cinnamon of Kara's lip gloss, because of course, she's the kind of girl who would wear cinnamon chapstick for Christmas.

They're both smiling too hard to kiss properly for the first time.

Lena breaks away for a moment, only to kiss her again for the second time. This time, deeper, more passionate. 6 months of pent-up emotions and want and love.

"To be clear, you love me, you're not going to fire me and you don't want to rail me??"

"I am never going to let Andrea and Sam near you ever again."

prompts list here

[havin-fun-imagining-twd]

Every step.

When - right before the gang goes to Alexandria. Time jump again, whoo! For more parts to the story, check out the list.

Perspective - 3rd person Daryl’s POV, followed by 2nd person POV (*decided to merge the two parts into one because it made more sense*)

Relationships - Daryl x reader. The gang is there, as always, but they’re in the barn while you and the guy who’s afraid of peanut butter are chilling outside.

Genre - a little bit of everything. Angsty and fluffy.

Pronouns - she/her (part of the female story line starting with the story called The Interview)

TWs - some language, self-loathing (it’s Daryl, y’all), heavier themes.

“You good?”

“...Y-yeah.”

Nah, he wasn’t buying it. She’d frozen up and put a hand on her stomach, what was going on?

He sits up. “C’mon, what’s wrong? There any pain?”

“No, no pain, there’s n-nothin’, it’s all fine, it’s just, um,” she shakes her head and keeps looking down at her stomach.

She was too damned thin now. Everyone was, sure, but it was different with her. Not that she would be showing much by now, but shit, she needed to eat and sleep.

Hold up, what’d she just mumble? Something about earlier and expected?

“Hm?”

What’s that look on her face? Happy? Sad? “Sometimes women feel them movin’ way earlier than expected,” she repeats softly. “Lori felt Judith early, too.”

Wait. Already? Was that even possible? “You just felt it move?”

She looks him in the eyes with a dazed smile and shrugs. “I just felt them move. Yeah.”

Her expression is calm as she as she settles her gaze back to the fields through the treeline. Gentle.

Goddamn, it’d been too long since he’d seen her look so…peaceful?

Before he thinks about what he’s asking, he says “Can I feel?”

Alright, he wasn’t so sure what that new expression she had for a second was, but it was gone now. “Others won’t be able to feel them until later,” she hesitates.

He bows his head. He shouldn’t have jumped to anything. Especially since it was his fault that this had happened to her. “You sure you’re okay?”

“Just had some applesauce like I been craving, I’m great.”

Well, she was one to keep things light. And yeah, she’d made that guy Aaron eat a whole bunch of the applesauce he’d brought to prove that it wasn’t poisoned, so Rick had filled him in. Whatever, he was relieved; she hadn’t been able to stomach the dog meat they’d had a week or so back, so that she had finally eaten something substantial was what mattered. She likes squirrel, but they’ve been few and far between. Plus with the nausea...

“Too bad we ain’t found no playdough for ya, too” he tries to tease. She’d been joking about craving that as well. Those and peanut shells. She needed more some damned vitamins, tell you what.

Wait, there was that expression was again, but just as fast it was gone again. And to his relief, she then smiles. A real one.

“Mm, a basket of playdough and hushpuppies sounds real good. Maybe some modeling clay for dessert.” She chuckles. “And we’ll find you some pig’s feet to snack on, too, don’t you worry.”

“Shit yeah, get you a peanut butter tomato sandwich, me some barbecue beans, grill up a squirrel, toss in some butter puff corn and peanut shells on the side. Maybe some sketti if we're feeling fancy,” he teased. Her accent was more hick than his own.

“Gotdang, but are we classy or what?” she drawls extra-hard.

“Only if we drink watered-down orange powerade and lukewarm root beer out of a dixie cup.”

She makes a face in response (she thinks root beer is too sweet, can you believe it?) and snorts back “That there’s some fine dining. We'll have us some knock-off ambrosia for dessert.”

The invisible string in his chest makes a small tug toward her.

They sit in silence as they were before and listen to the breeze and the birds singing while the gentle murmur from the others talking over in the barn makes its way out to them. She’d joined him out here a while ago. She didn’t like leaving him alone, not since she found him, um…when he did that thing to his hand with the cigarette. He doesn’t know why he did that. He just did.

She makes a tiny, sharp inhale. “They’re doin’ it again.”

He felt that little twinge in his chest when she said that. And all he can do next is just look at her. Even if shocked, she looks…happy somehow. That’s all that mattered right now.

“Hey man, I got somethin’ on my face or what?”

Shit, she’d caught him staring. God, he was a stupid asshole.

“No — honey, please don’t give me that look,” she mutters. “Everybody’s been givin’ me that look, man.”

He knew the look. He didn’t like it either. “M’sorry.”

Then she makes what almost sounds like a whimper. “And now you’re doing that thing, Daryl—” Her breath hitches and she swallows. Shit, was she about to cry? Her voice is rough when she finally speaks. “It ain’t your damned fault. You hear me? None of what happened to any of us is your fault.”

He doesn’t know what to say to that. He doesn’t know what the fuck to do about any of this. And yes, it was his damned fault. For every life at the prison that hadn’t made it out, that shit was on him. For Hershel. Beth. Tyreese. Bob. And for what happened to her. It was all on him because his stupid, worthless ass couldn’t track down the governor.

Just like he couldn’t track down his own brother. Just like he couldn’t track down Sophia. God damn him, and one of the last things that she’d said to Beth before they were separated was “Stay with him! He’ll keep you safe!”

Yeah, look how that turned out. And then to top it off, he’d tagged along with the same men who’d ra—fuck, he didn’t want to think about that shit. Bottom line, every goddamned thing was his f—

“—May I see your hand, please?” she softly requests, and his mind goes quiet.

He holds out both for her, unsure of what to do or what this meant. She looks nervous when she reaches for the one he’d burned and takes it into hers. She gently rubs her thumb along his and stares at the gauze she’d wrapped around it. Mumbling, she tells him “Thank you for lettin’ me bandage it.”

He wants to kiss it. He wants to kiss her hand and tell her that he’ll be there every step of the way. There’s so much shit he wished he’d been able to say to her before it all happened. And so much he wants to tell her now but can’t. So he doesn’t.

The only thing he’s able to do is muster the courage to look her in the eyes again. She notices and returns his gaze, frowning slightly.

But then she makes this little laugh, of all things. “Oh Moses, here I am givin’ you that same look I hate getting, ain’t I?” She sighs. “C’mon, while they’re movin’, tell me if you feel anything, okay?” And just like that, she places his hand on her stomach and presses down on his fingers, away from the bandage so that she wouldn’t hurt him. 

He almost forgets all about the feelings in his own stomach as he holds his breath. But…he doesn’t feel any movement or nothing. Not that he thought he would actually feel something this early on, but…

“Hey. Where’d you go, lazy punk?” she whispers to herself, back in that happy/unsure daze. Another sigh and a shrug, and she lets go of his hand.

When he finds his voice, he asks her “What’s it feel like?”

“Sort of like a muscle twitch, but…” A smile. “Tiny wiggles.” She then blinks as if waking herself up and further explains “S-some women describe it as little bubbles or flutters at first.” A pause. “You should might feel ’em in three months or so.”

Three months or so. Okay. Damn but if doesn’t want to wait that long. Did that make him an asshole? A horrible person? “What determines all that stuff?”

“It, um, it depends on some things,” she replies. “The weight, body shape, and body composition of the mother,” she starts, gesturing to herself. “Then the, um, their own positioning, too,” she goes on, pointing to her stomach before she rests her hand upon it again, and they resume their silence. 

The breeze feels nice.

“You tired?” he asks.

She waves her hand. “Eh, ain’t we all, Dary-bear?”  Oh man, it’d been a while since she’d used that one. She did it to bug him or whatever, just like Carol did with “pookie,” but he didn’t mind it. Them doing that made him feel like he was wanted, if that makes sense. 

Now she’s adjusting that big, old watch she still wore that had belonged to Dale. Goddamn if that didn’t feel like a fucking lifetime ago. Still wore her big brother’s chain, too. Kept one of T-Dog’s shirts. Lori’s belt. One of Beth’s bracelets. Used Tyrese's hammer. Hershel's stethoscope. Andrea's pistol. Had a broken mug that used to be Jacqui’s. Hell, they all still had (and used) those little walkie-talkies that she’d given to Amy.

“Daryl, are you worried about goin’ to that place, too?” 

She mean the place that Aaron was taking them? Of course he was worried. But he didn’t want to make her any more stressed than she already was. “Nah.”

“I call bull.”

He didn’t mean to grumble in response, but old habits, right? And as he expects, she mimics his grumbling and that makes him smile. She was good at making him smile. “I don’t trust it,” he concedes. “But I ain’t scared.”

She makes a little snort. “I don’t doubt that. You even scared of anythin’ other than chupacabras?”

Fuck’s sake, he loved her so goddamned much. “Ain’t never said I was scared of ’em, just that I saw one.”

“Mmhm — oh wait, I remember! You’re scared of peanut butter,” she razzes, giggling.

Shit, but her laugh is fantastic. He loves it when she makes stupid jokes and cracks herself up. And he hasn’t heard her do it that freely in, fuck, how long? He isn’t sure if it was a few days or a few weeks. Hell, even if it was a few hours, that was too long. He couldn’t get enough of that sound, especially now.

Making fun of her back, he grunts “Comin’ from the one who swam in socks ’cause she was convinced there was a quarry monster.”

“Hey. Socks and a t-shirt and shorts, don’t you be leaving that part out, mangy hick.”

“Watch your mouth, troublemakin’ slowpoke,” he taunted back.

He loved her so much. So, so damned much.

Maybe that’s why he was able to find it in himself to reach for her hand. Slowly and carefully; he didn’t want to scare her or anything. He just wanted to hold it for a second. Just long enough to make sure she knew that “We’re all gonna be there with ya. Every step.” 

And when he lets go of her hand and faces forwards again, holy shit his heart is pounding. Did he overstep or whatever? Did he scare her?

“I know,” she nods politely, arms crossed. “We’re a family, right?”

I’m gonna be with you every step. I’m gonna be there for that kid every step. I love you, okay? I love you so damn much. But instead of saying any of this (because he can’t. He just can’t.), he thinks of what she would do. What might at least make her smile.

So, he nudges her in the shoulder. And she nudges him back. He lightly nudges her again and calls her name – and before he can second guess it and shut himself down and hide away again, he says “I’m gonna be there. Every step. W-whatever you need. Okay?”

She doesn’t respond, though, except to bite her lip and nod.

“M’serious. Every damned step. For both of ya.”

There’s a pause. “I know,” she repeats, her tone of voice softer. “Thank you.” Then she elbows him again, of course. His heartbeat might still be racing a mile a minute, but he feels lighter. Hopeful almost, he guesses. And quiet settles between them again, but in a good way.

When he peeks over at her once more, her eyes are closed and she’s leaning her head back against the tree.

Is she…snoring?

“You fallin’ asleep?”

Her eyes open with a jolt and she flinches, but as soon as she comes to, she raises her eyebrows and chuckles at herself. Stretching, she admits “Mm, might could be.”

“You wanna stay here or head back to the barn?”

She opens her mouth to answer – but before she can make a sound, Michonne’s voice interrupts and calls out their names from the barn. They want everyone back inside to discuss something.

“Reckon that answers that, hm?” she half-jokes.

Yup.

He stands up first and extends his hand down to help her. And just as he’s about to let her hand go, he stops. Squeezes it once.

“Every step,” he mumbles into her ear. “I promise.”

_______________________________________________________

What? Are you dreaming?

“You good?” you hear him ask.

I don’t know! Holy shit, man!  “Y-yeah.”

In your peripheral vision, you can see him sit up. “C’mon, what’s wrong?” More urgently, he questions “There any pain?”

No, but I think I’m hallucinating or something I don’t know! “No, no pain, there’s n-nothin’, it’s all fine, it’s just, um…” You have to shake your head. That little wiggly/twitchy sensation is still going on.

Not that it was impossible; it most certainly was possible. It was simply (definitely) on the uncommon side. You’d just felt them move.

“I’m just a little surprised,” you manage to get out. “They’re movin’ earlier than expected.”

Lord above, you can scarcely believe those words are coming out of your mouth. And then, as if hearing you, the sensation stops.

He doesn’t respond right away. When he does, all it is is a “Hm?”

“Sometimes women feel them movin’ way earlier than expected,” you repeat softly. “Lori felt Judith early, too.”

“You just felt it move?”

Looking him in the eyes, you shrug. “I just felt them move.” Now you’re smiling. “Yeah.”

Somehow, you feel calm now. At peace. Happy, even. Somehow.

You send up a quick prayer and close your eyes to listen to the breeze.

“Can I feel?” he appears to blurt out.

Damn it. Why did he have to sound so gentle and – and eager when he asked that?

You aren’t in any place for that confusing shit, not now. And God save you, you care about him so much. So damned much it hurts. But to hear that genuine care and softness in his voice is confusing. You aren’t in a good place to deal with that right now. And that makes you feel worse.

“Others won’t be able to feel them until later,” you try to respond in a normal way.

It didn’t work. When you subtly glance over, he’s biting his lip and has his head down.

Of all the people walking on eggshells around you, his doing so pained you the most. How to explain it, um…well, see, Rick blamed himself for what happened, too. But Rick hadn’t been beaten down and spat on his whole life. Daryl, on the other hand…

“You sure you’re okay?” he checks quietly.

Keep it light, help him relax again. For both your sakes. “Just had some applesauce like I been craving, I’m great.”

He makes a little hum. “Too bad we ain’t found no playdough for ya, too.”

Of course he’s trying to cheer you up, too. You close your eyes again and remind yourself that you’re just hormonal, which is fine. You love him because he’s family and a very good friend. Right? You love everyone in your family. You’d simply been attracted to him and close, which is why you are upset right now when you consider that before all this happened, there might’ve been more.

God save you, you love him so much.

And like, fuck, what do you want? You still flinch when some of the men catch you off guard, even little Noah. When they manage to catch you off guard; you were so on edge all the time.

You’re hormonal and exhausted now because you’re pregnant and have gone through some shit, and that’s okay. Things will get better, and you have support. But it’s wise to guard your heart.

And yes, you definitely can smile about how you’ve been quite literally drooling over the idea of eating some playdough. Ooh, or that art clay that comes in those little strips! Mm, and peanut shells.

Oh Moses, you need some more vitamins.

“Mm, a basket of playdough and hushpuppies sounds real good. Maybe some modeling clay for dessert,” you joke. Cracking up, you add “And we’ll find you some pig’s feet to snack on, too, don’t you worry.”

“Shit yeah, get you a peanut butter tomato sandwich, me some barbecue beans, grill up a squirrel, toss in some butter puff corn and peanut shells on the side. Maybe some sketti if we're feeling fancy,” he teases. It is pretty funny how you talk more hick than he does.

You rev up the accent to really commit to the bit. “Gotdang, but are we classy or what?”

“Only if we drink watered down orange powerade and lukewarm root beer out of a dixie cup.”

The string in your chest tugs toward him.

He knows that you aren’t the biggest fan of root beer, but it sure as heck went nicely with Southern Comfort that one time, tell you what.

You make a face, then snort “That there’s some fine dining. We'll have us some knock-off ambrosia for dessert.”

A natural quiet settles between you two. You listen to the breeze and the twittering of the birds and thank God that no sounds of walkers were interrupting this moment. Hard to believe that that storm had been so bad just some days ago. But now, everything seems okay, minus that Aaron guy. No migraine, no one is sick, Judith’s belly is full, Noah’s ankle hasn’t worsened, and all seems calm, at least out here.

The others are in the barn right now probably discussing what Aaron was proposing.

Being outside is preferable.

What’s more is that, even if that wasn’t how Bob had been kidnapped, leaving Daryl alone isn’t something you feel comfortable with doing right now. Not since you’d caught him burning his hand with a cigarette.

You have personal experience with being in so dark a place; you don’t want him to be left alone for too long. Who knows what other actions he might take against himself?

It could turn out like that time you’d left Andrea with Beth – shoot, why did you have to go and dredge up their memories when your emotions were already running so high? Shoot, now you’re thinking about Dr. Jenner and Jacqui, too, and you’re fixing to spiral down, shit, shit, shit, not now, please not now —

—But just like that, you snap out of it upon feeling that twitching sensation again. The reason you’d kept living. As fucked up as it sounded, they are what helped you climb out of that dark place you’d been in. Them and Carl. And now you could feel them. “They’re doin’ it again.”

You feel his eyes on you after saying this. And when you turn your head, he’s staring.

What’s that about then? What’s with that look he’s got?

“Hey man, I got somethin’ on my face or what?”

And as soon as you say it, his expression changes into that same damned look that everyone has been giving you. That pitiful stare.

“No, honey — please don’t give me that look,” you rasp. “Everybody’s been givin’ me that look, man.” You know that it’s coming from a good place, but for fuck’s sake, you’re so tired and scared and you just wish that everyone would cheer up and stop dragging you back down with that godforsaken, defeated, pitiful, guilty stare!

“M’sorry,” he mumbles back.

Shit, but now he’s doing that other thing! That thing where it’s as if he’s expecting to be slapped across the face or screamed at. You hate how he sounds so fucking broken and beaten down, and that ends up being enough to break the dam you’d been trying so hard to keep in.

“And now you’re doing that thing, Daryl—" Shoot, please don’t cry. Don’t cry. Swallow and try to breathe slowly. Now tell him. Remind him that it’s not his fault. “It ain’t your damned fault. You hear me? None of what happened to any of us is your fault.”

Not for Hershel, not for any of the souls lost at the prison, not for Bob, not for Tyreese, and still no, not for Beth, and still no, not for what happened to you. He is not to blame. That “governor” was and those “Claimers” were, end of story.

The tightness in your throat eases, and you ask him softly “May I see your hand, please?”

He holds them out and you nervously reach for the one he’d burned. Daryl is safe and won’t hurt you. None of your family will. You find yourself rubbing your thumb along his as you check to see if he needs fresh gauze yet. He’s been that close to giving himself third degree burns. “Thank you for lettin’ me bandage it.”

He says nothing, but you feel his eyes on you again and are brave enough to return his gaze. Your poor, broken friend who you loved so, so much. Is it unhealthy that you have the urge to kiss his hand? That you hope it would help him not want to hurt himself again?

Oh heck, now you’re giving him the look, aren’t you? And like a weirdo, you’re now laughing at yourself. Aaand, the wiggling sensation is back.

“Oh Moses, here I am givin’ you that same look I hate getting, ain’t I?” First, you have to just sigh and shake your head. And next, hand to God, you’re even brave enough to place his hand on your stomach.

“C’mon. While they’re movin’, tell me if you feel anything, okay?” And with that, you press down on his fingers in the spot you feel movement, mindful to not touch his bandage.

And yes, okay, maybe it’s not like Daryl’s gonna feel them moving since at the moment who’s in there is too small to be felt from the outside. It just feels right to do.

Oh. Rude.

Daryl wouldn’t be able to feel even if you were further along, considering that the wiggling has stopped. “Hey. Where’d you go, lazy punk?” you mutter.

Voice deep and curious, he wonders “What’s it feel like?”

“Sort of like a muscle twitch, but…” You smile. “Tiny wiggles.” Oops, you’re staring into space. Dang but you’re tired and still in a daze about all this. “S-some women describe it as little bubbles or flutters at first.” And considering the normal gestation time for palpable movement to occur… “You should might feel ’em in three months or so.”

He turns his body towards you. “What determines all that stuff?”

“It, um, it depends on some things. The weight, body shape, and body composition of the mother. Then the, um,” and you gesture to your stomach. “Their own positioning, too.”

You sit back again. It’s probably a good time to rewind your watch. The little piece of Dale that you still had. You wish he were here. Would he have survived the prison’s falling and Terminus, you wonder? And what would he think about Aaron? What would your brother have, for that matter?

As you twist the little dial on the watch, you feel troubled.

“Daryl, are you worried about goin’ to that place, too?”

He’s hesitating before he answers, you can tell. “Nah.”

Um, you call bull. “I call bull.”

Yay, and you’re rewarded with one of his signature grumbles! Only one appropriate response to that: grumbling back. Usually makes him smile, too. And sure enough, you watch as his eyes crinkle and he relaxes.

“I don’t trust it,” he acknowledges. “But I ain’t scared.”

“I don’t doubt that. You even scared of anythin’ other than chupacabras?” That man didn’t seem to get frightened by anything.

“Ain’t never said I was scared of ’em, just that I saw one,” he corrects you, lightly nudging you with his foot.

“Mmhm,” you sass back. Oh wait, you remember! “Oh wait, I remember! You’re scared of peanut butter!” you snicker. How wild that he doesn’t like peanut butter, right?

He holds in his laugh until after he grunts “Comin’ from the one who swam in socks ’cause she was convinced there was a quarry monster.”

“Hey. Socks and a t-shirt and shorts, don’t you be leaving that part out, mangy hick.”

“Watch your mouth, troublemakin’ slowpoke,” he taunts back.

You’d missed this. You care about him so much. You love him. So, so damned much.

But you still feel a chill surge through you when you watch him reach his hand over and - clasp yours. He did it slowly and carefully which offered you time to withdraw, at least, but…what the fuck is he doing? Why is he holding your hand? Daryl doesn’t do things like that. And why would he be doing it now?

He swallows. “We’re all gonna be there with ya. Every step.”

Then he lets go and quickly faces forward as if nothing happened. Your pulse is having a damned field day. You’re safe. He is safe to be around.

Staring dead ahead and nodding, you do your best to keep your voice level when you reply “I know. We’re a family, right?”

And he told you the truth, of course your family will be there with you. Heck, you’re surprised that another one of them wasn’t hawking around you right now.

Your arms are crossed as you try to remind yourself that you’re hormonal and very tired, which is why you’re conflicted and confused.

Then out of the blue, he elbows you. Which is something dumb that you would do, and it makes you smile. And naturally you bump back into him. He then lightly nudges you again and calls your name — and without looking at you, says “I’m gonna be there. Every step. W-whatever you need. Okay?”

Okay. Okay. However, this word doesn’t make its way to your mouth, so all you can do is nod your head.

“M’serious,” he whispers, insistent. “Every damned step. For both of ya.”

And with that, your scared feeling melts away and all you feel is calm again. Safe. Every step. And you know he will, for the both of you, that’s the thing.

Putting up another quick prayer, you repeat softly to him “I know.” And you mean it. “Thank you.”

Then you elbow him again, of course, you’ve got a reputation to maintain, after all. And the quiet that settles itself between you two again is easy, comfortable.

You rest your head back against the tree once more. For whatever reason it is that you’re still at peace, you ain’t about to argue with it. And heck no are you gonna argue with that nice, heavy, relaxed feeling spreading over your limbs and eyelids…

And the next thing you know, you’re awaking with a jolt upon hearing “You fallin’ asleep?”

Hot damn, you actually were asleep, weren’t you? And probably snoring. With a self-aware grin, you admit “Mm, might could be.”

One corner of his mouth turns up and he checks “You wanna stay here or head back to the barn?”

To be honest? You’re completely down for closing your eyes and nodding off again right here. So exhausted. But as you open your mouth to let him know, Michonne’s voice interrupts and calls out your names.

They want everyone back inside the barn.

“Reckon that answers that, hm?” you half-joke.

Within seconds, he’s on his feet and extends his hand down to help you. But just when you would expect him to let go of it, he stops. Squeezes it once. And when he leans over just close enough to murmur into your ear, you don’t feel unsafe.

And what he says, you trust.

“Every step. I promise.”

[mypoisonedvine]

Rough Ride | biker!Chris Evans x reader

summary: for a biker, chris is quite the romantic.  for a small-town waitress, you’re quite the rebel for falling for a biker.

word count: 3.5k

warnings: smut!!, biker gang shenanigans, references to smoking, love at first sight, a touch of possessiveness, vaguely soulmate au?? (because of aforementioned love at first sight), kinda innocent reader, shy reader, essentially a very fluffy pwp

The gang had never really scared you, even if the other girls working here were intimidated by them.  In your mind, having a motorcycle club frequent your hole-in-the-wall meant being more protected rather than more vulnerable.  Most of them were nice enough, even if their glances were less than subtle and they brought in the smell of cigarettes with them.  They tipped well, and what matters other than that?  

When you saw Chris for the first time, though, you were intimidated.  Maybe that wasn’t the right word.  It wasn’t him that scared you at all, but the rush of feelings that overcame you.  What scared you was knowing that, as absurd as it was, you were in love.

He sat at your table, as if he knew you’d be serving him, spreading his legs as he got comfortable and draping a leather jacketed arm over the worn pleather booth.  You’d tried to keep your cool, taking his order in spite of those crystal blue eyes piercing right through you.  Ink decorated his skin, peeking out from every edge of his clothing— unreadable words on his neck, abstract shapes on his wrists and hands, letters on his knuckles.  You watched from the kitchen as those tattooed fingers wrapped around the mug of coffee you’d served him, his neck tattoo shifting a little as he took a long sip.

“Do y’all want anything to eat?” you asked quietly, waiting for a chance to hear his voice.  His buddies answered first, ordering hashbrowns and bacon and their various usuals.  With no one else left to ask, your eyes met his and you waited in tense silence for him to say something.

“You got pancakes?”  

How stupid that those were the words that made your heart stop, slurred with a Boston accent, monotone to the point it barely sounded like a question.

You were in love with him.  Before now you hadn’t been the type to dream about soulmates, to wait for your Prince Charming to come save you.  But this guy had a noble steed you could ride off into the sunset with— except it was a Ducati, and sunset wasn’t for another nine hours…

“Hello?” he frowned.

Oh, had you forgotten to actually say something?

“Y-yes,” you finally blurted out, “we’ve got pancakes.  Best in the county.”

“Blueberry?”

You nodded quickly.  “Or cinnamon, or banana, or original…”

“Blueberry then,” he decided.  “Thanks.”

You shuffled to the back, spinning behind the saloon door into the kitchen and leaning against the wall with a sigh.  It was a miracle you remembered any of the other orders, since all you could think about was him and his eyes and his voice and those ridiculously lovely tats.

You passed the order on to the cook, taking off the apron part of your uniform so you could try to cool off for a second, only peering out to check that the table didn’t need anything every few minutes.  As much as you wanted to hide away in the kitchen forever, you could see that a few of the mugs were empty at his table and you needed to give them a refill.  

Sighing and grabbing a fresh pot from the coffeemaker, you ventured back into the dining area; of course it only took him a split second to lock his eyes on you, watching you come closer with a stare that made the silence so much more oppressive.

“Everything alright so far?” you asked, voice much shakier than you meant for it to be.  One of the other bikers asked about getting a cup of decaf, another wanted more creamer, but he just sipped at the black coffee and kept his eyes trained on you over the rim on the mug.  “Food should be out in a minute…”

You all but ran back to the kitchen; you could only take so much of him at once.  Looking at him was like looking at the sun, and looking anywhere else was like a waste of your vision.

You made busywork for yourself in the kitchen, rearranging utensils and refilling ketchup bottles.  You heard the kitchen door swing open behind you, the light shifting in the corner of your eye.

“Charlene, can you cover my table for a while?  I can’t go back out there—” you began, but heavy footsteps stopping behind you made you realize it was most certainly not Charlene.  You spun around to find him staring down at you, contemplating the way you shrunk into his shadow.

“Were you really gonna run so quick?  Make Charlene bring me my pancakes?” he asked with a gentle voice, stepping slightly closer.

“You’re not supposed to be back here,” you explained sheepishly.

“I heard we own this place,” he returned, raising an eyebrow, “and everything in it.”

“Yeah,” you nodded, “something like that…”

Then he moved in so close— almost too close, even though you simultaneously wanted more— until you were clutching the cool metal table behind you, your eyes flicking from his eyes to his lips and back.

“Tell me something, sweetheart,” he whispered, “do you believe in love at first sight?”

“I’m starting to,” you admitted quietly.  And he kissed you, so much more delicate and tender than he had any right to be.  Maybe you should’ve feigned disinterest, but not even for a moment could you do anything but kiss him back, slipping your arms around his neck.  But that wasn’t enough to keep him close, unfortunately, as he pulled away much too soon.

“How about now?” he pressed, and your eyes were a little delayed in opening again as you tried to process the fact that you’d just experienced the most perfect kiss of all time.

You nodded a little, looking back up at him and biting your lip slightly.  “You never told me your name,” you realized.

“Chris,” he answered quickly.  You started to tell him yours but he finished it for you, making your eyes go wide.

“How did you—?”

He smirked and tapped on the hard plastic nametag pinned to your chest.

“Oh,” you giggled, “right…”

He leaned in a little closer, one arm caging you in as it rested against the wall by your head, while the other was playing with the hem of your yellow uniform.  “When do you get off?” he purred in your ear, his fingers brushing over your legs just under your skirt.

“Whenever you want me to get off,” you answered quickly, not even noticing the double entendre.

“Right now,” he decided.  “Your shift ends right now, and you’re gonna get on the back of my bike and ride with me.”

“Okay,” you nodded.

You stood a few feet away on the gravel while he started the engine, enraptured at the way his fingers gripped the handles and pumped the gas and brakes to test them.  When he guided you to get on the back, you tried not to notice the way the vibrations of the bike shot right through you, and just focused on his face as he turned back to look at you.

“Where are we going?” he asked.

“Your place.”

He chuckled lightly but revved the engine, kicking off and sending the bike spurring forward onto the highway.  You clutched at his torso tightly, resting your face on the leather of his jacket and watching your tiny little town roll by.

//

Normally this would be the time to describe his apartment, but you didn’t even notice it; you were too busy grabbing him by his jacket and pulling him into you the second he’d unlocked the door.  You’d never kissed anyone like this, or ever tried to, or ever wanted to, so you didn’t know if you were doing it right.  But he sure seemed to like it considering he pressed against you and moaned a little into your mouth.

Maybe it was all a game for him, his chance to corrupt an innocent waitress who bought his crap because she was gullible enough to believe he loved her.  You knew that was more likely than not, you weren’t stupid for all your naivete, but you couldn’t really bring yourself to believe it.  It felt so real, the way he pulled you closer, the way he kissed you— it didn’t feel like he was rushing you, since you were the one who helped him take his jacket off before you started to unbutton your uniform, and pushed him back onto the mattress on the floor, straddling him as you moaned into his mouth.

“Baby,” he whispered against your lips, something like shock mixed with pride painting the tone of his voice.

“I need you,” you whimpered, ���I’ve never— I don’t usually— this isn’t—”

“It’s okay,” he nodded, “I get it.  I’ve never felt this way before either.”

He pushed your hands away from their task of opening the uniform, his thick and ink-decorated fingers taking over instead.  Your face warmed as he pushed the fabric off your shoulders, revealing your practical bra— not very sexy, unfortunately, but he didn’t seem to mind as he ran his hands all over your newly-exposed skin.

Not that you would’ve been especially irritated if it took him a minute to unhook your bra, but of course he did it seamlessly.  Faster than when you tried to do it yourself, even.

His palms were warm as they cupped your breasts, your nipples already hard but reacting further to being tweaked between his thumb and forefingers.  A shiver danced down your spine, and you fought between looking back into his piercing gaze or glancing away to spare yourself the intensity of it all.  You stammered out his name when he pinched a little harder, almost losing your balance but catching yourself on his chest.

He stopped and sat up to quickly pull his shirt off, and you bit your lip at the sight of his chest and torso littered in ink.  You wanted to trace each one with your tongue, but that would have to wait for another time; instantly he pushed you off of him and flipped you onto your back, caging you in with his absurdly thick arms and grinning as he hovered above you.

“You are so goddamn beautiful,” he mumbled, “did you know that?”

You stammered, never really getting out an effective reply, as he reached down and toyed with the hem of your panties.  His fingers tickled your skin while he started to pull them down, excruciatingly slow; his eyes bore into yours for the longest time, dark and brooding, until he finally glanced down and watched the fabric slide over your thighs.

With bated breath, you waited for his reaction to your nude body.  He was silent as he pushed your legs apart, finally letting out a low growl as he spread your folds.  “Fuck, baby…” he sighed just under his breath.

The moment his fingers made contact with your soaked folds, you gasped; he gathered the abundant slick he found there and spread it over your clit, drawing relaxed circles over it as you fought not to buck your hips up already.  That was impossible, though, when he slipped a finger into your soaking entrance, and then another.

“Oh—” you gasped, sitting up to watch him work as if you couldn’t really believe it was happening otherwise.

Watching his tattoos disappear inside you was… indescribable.  Your head fell back as those fingers curled inside you, his thumb rubbing over your clit roughly.  “Fuck,” you groaned, “Chris, don’t stop…”

He didn’t, in fact he only pumped and twisted his fingers faster until you clutched at the sheets beneath you and arched your back.  You couldn’t exactly keep track of what you were saying, or how long it had been going, but you were pretty sure that you were doing lots of begging and that it had not been long enough to justify the fact that you were already right on the edge of coming.  When his fingers moved a little faster and a little rougher, you moaned his name before you could stop yourself.

“Yeah, you gonna make a mess all over my hand, baby?” he growled through his teeth.

“Yes,” you sobbed, “yes, I’m so close.”

“Then do it,” he encouraged gruffly, “come for me.”

You must have reached up and grabbed him at some point, because your nails were digging into his shoulder, hard enough to leave a mark if it weren’t for the marks already there— hard to see a bruise on black ink.  Hard to see anything when you’re coming so hard that your vision goes a little spotty.  If you had realized the intensity of your involuntary convulsions in that moment, you would’ve likely been self-conscious about it, but you didn’t really notice since you were too busy gasping and moaning and writhing for him— and he didn’t even stop until you reached down and grabbed his wrist.  You weren’t strong enough to push him away, of course, but it was a clear signal, and he thankfully slowed down to a stop.  You whimpered a little when he pulled his fingers out of you; he hummed as he brought the digits to his lips and sucked your flavor from them.

Any other day and one orgasm would satisfy you, especially one like that.  And in a sense, you were satisfied; but in another (and stronger) sense, you needed more— you needed everything.  You just hoped that sitting up and fumbling with his belt would get the point across.

He didn’t help you this time, happy to sit there breathing heavily and watching you work on his belt, then his fly, then his boxers until you were gasping as you revealed his thick cock.  Maybe it was just going to go straight to his ego, but you had no interest in hiding your shock at the sight of it, a drop of precum forming at the slit; a picturesque vein running up the underside.  “Fuck,” you groaned, wrapping your hand around it and giving it a few slow strokes.

You yelped a little, in a good way, as he pushed you back onto the bed and kissed you deeply: it was needy, but not quite rough.

When the tip of him prodded at your entrance, you gasped against his lips, and yet you were still a little disappointed when he broke the kiss and pulled away, his eyes rapidly scanning your expression.

“You want it?” he asked— not a taunt, a genuine question.

“Yes,” you nodded, “more than anything.”

“This isn’t a fling,” he told you sternly.  “This isn’t a one-night stand.  We do this, you’re mine, you understand?”

“Yours,” you agreed with a breathless nod, and he finally pushed the tip into you.  He stopped when you winced, but you didn’t mind the sting so much— you wanted to feel everything, even the pain, as long as it was him.  You wrapped your legs around his hips and tried to push him in deeper, but he resisted.  “I want it all, please,” you begged weakly.

“Not sure you can take it,” he admitted nervously.

“I can, please, just need you inside me,” you whined.

He sighed a little but relented and pushed all the way in, still maintaining a measured pace; you sighed with relief when his hips were flush against yours.  The sting was nothing compared to the perfection of his body nestled in yours, the way he looked down at you before he kissed you again.  It was less rushed than before, less desperate as he savored every inch of you, like you had all the time in the world— it certainly felt like you did.

He didn’t pull out very far, focusing instead on grinding his hips against yours, which not only served to keep him so deep inside you that you could barely breathe but also pressed some very hard part of him right into your clit.  It was nearly overwhelming, but his kiss kept you grounded, along with his arms slipping under you so he could hold you tight.  You clutched at his neck and ran your fingers through his hair, kissing him back and moaning against his tongue.  It helped you relax a little, until your body opened up to his size and he could thrust a bit harder without resistance.  Even then, he kept it slow and steady, waiting until you whined and pleaded for more to start really fucking you.

You couldn’t keep up with the kiss anymore when he pounded into you like that, your head falling back and giving him perfect access to gently bite at your neck.  It only made you wetter to imagine that while he wore his tattoos on his neck, you could bare whatever marks he made on your skin with his lips and teeth and tongue.  Too bad yours would be less permanent.

“How’s it feel?” he asked you darkly, his voice rough but warm against your ear.

“So good,” you panted, “you feel so good.”

He reached down to grab your parted legs and hold them open wider, and you hadn’t realized that it would send the tip of him spearing straight into your most delicate spot.  Your back arched instantly and you made a somewhat embarrassing noise, but he grinned and nibbled at your jaw, thrusting a little faster and repeating the motion.

“F-fuck,” you shuddered.

“You’re— shit, you’re squeezin’ on me,” he groaned, and you took pride in the way pleasure affected his voice.  “Can feel you tryin’ to milk my cock.”

Lewd talk like that had never turned you on so much before, but it was different the way he said it.  Then again, everything was different when he did it, especially the way his fingertips were sure to leave little bruises on your legs from how tight he was holding.

“Look down,” he instructed as he sat up slightly, “look at how good you’re takin’ me, baby.”

You did, and sure enough, it was hard to believe that every time he pulled back, his massive cock was somehow going to fit back inside you again— or that it ever did in the first place.  But with every stroke he filled you to the brim, and when you looked back up, he was already staring down at you with those damn eyes that kept you frozen in place every time.

He pulled out suddenly, making you whimper at the loss as he stared down at you.  “Flip over, get on your hands and knees for me.”

You surprised yourself with how quickly you obeyed, arching your back as his rough hands gripped at your hips tightly.  When he pulled you back and speared you on his cock, it was like an entirely new sensation.  His cock was even deeper, stretching your walls in new ways as you keened and whimpered beneath him.

“How’s that feel, baby?” he groaned, already setting a new and much more aggressive pace.

“So good,” you cried, “it’s so good, you’re so good…”

“You like how I fuck you?” he pressed, like your mouth hung slack and your hands struggling to hold onto the mattress weren’t enough to make it obvious that you did.

“Love it,” you moaned, “please, don’t stop.”

And he didn’t, thankfully, not even close; he held your body and pulled you back onto him in time with his own thrusts forward, the sound of skin on skin rivalled only by your constant stream of moans and cries.  

Another orgasm was well on its way, though this one felt different than the first— coming on slower but stronger, making your legs shake as they fought to hold you up your weight.  

When the coil finally snapped, you didn’t feel the need to tell him you were coming again, because it was so obvious from the way you moaned and how your walls rippled and tightened on him harder than ever.  And just in case it wasn’t clear that he noticed you hitting the height of your pleasure, he leaned down a little and mumbled right against your ear: “Feels so good when you come for me, baby.”

You whimpered and let your upper body collapse onto the bed; the dramatic arch in your back was slightly uncomfortable, but your orgasm had made your whole body a little numb so you didn’t notice.

“Want you to come too,” you sighed, desperate to make him feel even a fraction as good as he’d made you feel.

“Fuck, I will,” he warned you, “god, you feel so good, gonna come inside you.”

“Please,” you sighed, “want it all in me, Chris, please…”

He followed through on his promise with a stuttered gasp, stopping his thrusts to stay buried deep in you as you felt his cock swell and flex against your walls.  Warmth spread within you as you hummed contentedly, his heavy breathing slowly stabilizing before he gently pulled out and guided you to lay beside him on the bed.

For a moment, you feared that he’d gotten what he wanted and would either toss you out or just slowly disappear from your life.  After all, he was him, and you were you, and there was something oil-and-water about it all, right?

Wrong.  He wrapped his arms around you, and pulled you into him, and kissed you one more time.  You reciprocated quickly and tried not to smile too hard.

“If I say something really stupid,” he whispered when he pulled back slightly. “will you promise not to freak out?  I mean, I know it’s impossible and it doesn’t make any sense and we just met but—”

“I love you too,” you interrupted, and he smiled back at you, letting out a sigh of bemused relief.  

“Bein’ a biker’s girl isn’t easy,” he warned you, “but I’ll keep you safe, I can promise that.”

His words were just that; words.  But the way he held you tightly and kissed you deeply made you sure that he would keep his promise.