#and considering that a millisecond before the explosion my boy turned his face to it... well

[sozzledjuja]

In my post S3 au...

Mephisto is looking rough but he'll be fine. They'll both be.

[spacecadetal]

fireworks

kakashi hatake/fem!reader

word count: 2774 warnings: descriptions of violence, descriptions of blood, descriptions of killing, alcohol use author notes: i wanted to write something a little different than i usually would i kinda got a little tired of my wips lol

the first time i saw him, i was eight years old with a shy curiosity about the world. long story short, his shoulder collided with my own. he wasn’t watching where he was going and neither was i, the hard jolt gave me such a fright that i yelled at him to watch where he was going. i had too much pride to admit i was at fault, lost in a daydream once again. he shared my reaction and my sentiment. saying i should watch myself too with great annoyance in his tone. i scoffed, he huffed, we went our separate ways.

i had always heard his name but never connected the dots until i was much older but still not much wiser. he was a prodigy, i was painfully just above average. as a bright eyed genin, i was out in the world and only starting to understand the true meaning of the path i chose at the naive age of six. his squad was babysitting my own on a mission. his mentor stands next to mine and introduces us and my face sours immediately. unlike him i don’t have a mask to hide it. he avoids me for the whole mission but his teammates are nice.

his red eye was making waves around the world, he was a myth and enemies across the land waited in anticipation for the day to come where they could finally see it in the flesh. great gain had come with great loss, i’m sure he wishes the second hand eye was back with its original owner. i remember the first time i saw him lift up his headband and expose it to the world. the blood red eye and it’s black swirls, chills shoot down my spine like pins and needles. engaging with an enemy was pure violence, animalistic and messy yet he made it seem so graceful. 

the pines and the dark forest disappear before my eyes; now he stands on a wooden stage with his foe, dancing under a spotlight. every dodge and weave is smooth and flawless. his strikes felt as natural and as quick as a snake striking at its prey. i watch his performance with a disregard for my own safety and when the last of our enemies hit the dirt, i wait for him to bow. instead he shakes the blood off his kunai and the famous eye is tucked away under his headband. i think i fell in love with him that afternoon.

the girl who died, her name was rin and that one time her team babysat mine, she braided my hair by a campfire and said i had a pretty name. she didn't deserve to die. they whisper about him when he walks by, terrible nasty things. but i smile at him, wave to him when i see him and hope it makes him feel less alone in the world. he sees it and he averts his gaze without reply or acknowledgement. rejection makes my chest tighten, if only slightly. naturally i assume he doesn’t like me, maybe he doesn’t like anyone. 

i'm in a village with my squad for a mission, it’s small but the green tea in the wooden cup and the smell of rabbit stew on the stovetop makes me feel at home. the excited teenage boy asks me about the things i've seen. the only thing he knows is chopping wood and shearing sheep. he asks me about a rumour he’s heard by a traveller about the boy that conjures lightning in his hand, he asks me if i've seen it before in the flesh. i smile and nod and confirm that i have. he asks me to describe it. i don't know how to at first.

first, you hear the static snapping and popping and it captures your attention instantly. then the pale blue light grows bigger and bigger in his hand, it takes on a life of its own and i won’t lie and say that it doesn’t make my heart beat out of my chest but he tames it like a wild beast, he has complete control. if you stand off to the side, you can watch the show. lightning surrounds him but he is never burnt. he’s like a god when he strikes, i've never seen something so terrifying but beautiful. he's beautiful. but i don’t tell the teenage boy that and i dont tell him that sometimes the loud crackle of his chidori haunts me when im alone. 

when i'm a chunnin, i feel much older than i am. it's not due to the title of my rank but because i keep plunging my kunai into grown men’s hearts and have to pretend it doesn’t faze me to see blood squirting from punctured arteries. i don't see him around the village much anymore. he lives in the darkness, in the shadows but sometimes he comes out into the light. he's grown so much older and taller and i think he looks handsome in his gear. toned arms and biceps and that tattoo on his left upper arm, the one that tells the world where his loyalties lie. walking past him, i prepare to feel the chill of his icy demeanor but i say his name, wave and smile. the only one of his eyes that sees the world widens and the veins of his arms bulge at my greeting, i can’t see his hands because they’re stuffed in his pockets. he always looks away but this time, for the smallest of seconds, he nods in my direction and then he is gone.

when the nine tailed beast attacks the village, i am kept away from the battle in a forest with the rest of the ninja around my age. he’s there, standing by his friend who talks and talks. i like his friend, he always greets me with enthusiasm. i try to ignore the sounds of my village being destroyed and the screams of the unfortunate dying people as i am powerless to do anything. my eyes move on their own in his direction only to find he has the same idea. for a moment, air leaves my lungs and i nod politely before i look away. his eyes meet mine one, two, three times. that night my home was buried under a mountain of rock and rubble and he lost the last person that knew the true extent of the damage this world had inflicted on him. 

the elderly lady at the stall with the hair clips told me i've grown into a beautiful young lady and i blush at her comment and insist it isn’t so. she tells me i must have a lot of boys' attention and i buy the deep blue hair clip with the faux sapphire gem. it stands out in my dark hair. it's been a long time since my house was crushed and a long time since he’s sat in the dango store with his friends but here’s there when i walk by. the compliment has me on cloud nine and i'm glad he’s not alone anymore. i smile at the group, say ‘ hey guys ’ and wave. for a millisecond my eye catches his as i'm walking by and my mind plays tricks on me. i think i see his cheeks tinge red.

kurenai came up to me one summer's morning and asked if i was attending the festival. i told her i was but likely alone. maybe i wasn’t such a pretty girl, no fish ever nibbled on the hook of the fishing pole i cast into the waters. her boyfriend looked bored as we spoke and her crimson eyes smile when she brings up the boy with the silver hair’s name, pretending she doesn’t notice my breath hitch for the slightest of moments. ‘ you should ask him, he’s not going with anyone either ’ she tells me and then she drags her boyfriend away. i sit alone on the cliffs for an hour thinking it through, my knees up to my chin as i wonder why she would suggest such a thing. iwashi is pissed that i'm twenty minutes late to meet up with them.

his group joins up with mine hours later and i greet him as i always do. he stands off to the side and plays with his hands and every time i catch his eye he looks as if he wants to say something to me. they say love feels like butterflies but when my eyes meets his, those butterflies turn into angry bees. i want to say something to him too, ask him where his friend got the idea that i should ask him to go with me but the bees within me sting and their venom prevents me from opening my mouth. i avert my gaze and pretend to listen to genma when he talks about his favourite order of ramen. 

we all part ways but we’re together again within the hour and i'm waiting nervously at the spot kurenai told me to come back to. my yukata is the colour of lapis and white periwinkles decorate the sleeves and i wonder if i look plain compared to the girls around me dressed in passionate pinks, gentle purples, and bold reds. he doesn’t see me at first but i see him. his yukata is dark grey with light thin stripes and it compliments his bright silver hair wonderfully. it’s the first time i've seen his hair down and his long strands are wild and stick out all over the place, i think i fall in love with him all over again. hes alone and i don’t dare to approach but he finally sees me. he waves, i nod. he's so handsome that i can’t stand to look at him so i don’t.

it’s dark and explosions of many colours light up the sky. i'm so distracted by the loud boom echoing off the hills and the blue, red, white and green lights on a black landscape that i don’t notice he's standing right beside me watching it too. knuckles lightly brush against my own, my chest tightens at the sensation. it’s distracting enough that i tear my eyes away from the sky show. they’re as wide as a possum when i meet his gaze. he doesn’t say anything, he just stares for a moment before he looks back at the fireworks. it was an accident and i forgive and forget but then his fingers awkwardly hook around my own, clinging for dear life. i cannot look, i cannot think nor speak. i hold my breath and blink rapidly while i cling onto his fingers just as tightly. when the fireworks are finished, we consider each other in silence for a minute. his hand leaves mine and we part ways without a word.

every time i see him, i see fireworks and feel the ghost of his fingers wrap around my own. he acknowledges me and we’re rarely left alone around each other; when we are we do not speak of it. we lean against a railing side by side and watch our friends fool around. courageously i say to him that the weather is nice today and he nods in agreement before his friend calls him over. when he leaves my side, his knuckles brush past mine once more. i jump in surprise and tell myself it was another forgivable accident but then he glances back at me as he walks away and i can’t be too sure. 

i am frozen still in a shrub waiting for the enemy to pass by. the sound of my heartbeat in my ears is so loud but suddenly it is replaced with the familiar crackle of electricity that haunted my dreams for the longest of times. when i turn around i see a man gasping for life, holding on tightly to the kunai i imagined would have been plunged into the nape of my neck if it wasn’t for the ball of lightning sizzling away in his chest. the man’s body drops to the ground and i finally see him standing there in the man’s place, his lower arm is soaked with blood from the fatal strike. he takes my hand and helps me onto my feet. that famous red eye is hiding behind a porcelain hound mask and he asks me if i'm okay. i assure him i am and thank him, he nods his head in reply and walks away. i don’t mind that he’s left my hand stained with our enemy’s blood. 

when i am given the rank of jonin i am months away from being twenty. i’m not allowed to drink just yet but my older friends buy bottles of sake to share in the park and i accept the invitation without giving it much thought. it’s sweet on my tongue and goes down smoothly, the aftertaste reminds me of potatoes for some strange reason i can’t put my finger on. i drink and i drink until half a bottle is gone and my cheeks are red and i laugh too loudly at asuma’s lame jokes. the stars are beautiful tonight but they just look like streaks of light in my blurry vision. i lay in the grass, my head feels light and my stomach slightly churns. out of nowhere he is in my line of sight, standing over me with a touch of concern on the features that aren’t hidden away. he asks me if i'm okay and i say i'm just fine and i think to myself that i'm glad to see him. 

when he takes me home, he lectures his friends that i'm too young to get drunk and they reply that i'll be old enough in a couple of months and it doesn’t make that much of a difference. he doesn’t mind my drunken babbling and how my head leans on his shoulder as we walk slowly through the dimly lit streets. his grip around my waist is tight and i try not to say something foolish like the way he fights is a form of art or that i want him to hold my hand again. he drops me off at the door and leaves once i am inside safely. i pass out that night thinking of the ways i want to be his.

i am twenty one when he leaves the anbu and i see him on the streets alone. his nose is in a book and he doesn’t notice as i walk by. i fight the urge to turn around and ask him how he’s going, i’ll be late to meet up with my old squad to train if i do. later when i walk home, i stare off into the distance and think about making dinner and sharpening my collection of kunai when i collide with something hard. i jump out of fright at the impact, ready to snap when two hands land on my shoulders to secure me in place. we’re not kids anymore and he smiles at me and apologises even when i'm at fault. i ask him how he’s been and he says he’s been just fine. he walks me home and we talk about missions and his new role as a squad leader. on my doorstep he says he’ll see me around and then he is gone and i am left greedily wanting more of his time.

one day when we are standing alone he tells me he is in love with me. it is is out of the blue and i brush it off with laugher, telling him he couldn’t possibly be; he takes my hand in his and insists it’s true. he tells me that he has been since the moment i collided with him in the street when he was ten years old. that when the world was unkind to him, i provided enough kindness to keep him going, all in a smile and a greeting. it is everything i have wanted to hear and more. the angry swarm of bees are back and i am stung over and over again. he can tell that i'm paralysed so his lips fall gently onto mine and it allows me to say the things i cannot utter out loud. my eyes are closed and i can see the very same fireworks from the night our fingers touched. when he breaks away from me he says we should get out of here and wordlessly i agree. we walk in the streets of the village and i am unsure of the destination he has in mind. his fingers are wrapped around mine.

[severusdefender]

More Werewolf!Lily AU Scribbles this time w/ more action

I don’t normally write this fast, it’s weird. I tried to keep it real with the UK-slang/words but I’m not sure how accurate I was. Also action scenes are my weakness but I think I’m getting better at pacing. Here ya’ll’s go, enjoy. <333

Werewolf Action Scene: Severus is going to die.

Oh, and Remus bloody Lupin was a fucking werewolf, but that’s beside the point. Severus’d taken Black’s bait like the bloody moron that brutish buffoon thought he was, hook, line, and sinker; and here he is, staring into the jaws of death of a pissed werewolf.

The boy turns, the teen-turned-beast growls with a jerky forward lunge, and Severus trips backwards flat onto his arse, and then in a single bound the Slytherin student was between the front paws of a monster and somewhere in the milliseconds between those two things his wand had slipped from his fingers.

“FUCK!”

Snarling, open jaws, full of sharp teeth and angry spittle-

“Bombarda!”

BANG-BANG-POP!

A ringing explosion and the beast’s jaws snap shut a split second before crashing into the floor next to Severus’ head, howling with pain. Severus’ ears are ringing and his body feels sluggish and shaky, but he manages to roll to look at the source voice coming from the tunnel exit.

Lily.

“Come on, ugly!” Severus feels the foreign sense of relief turn to horror as his timely savior screams with almost suicidal confidence at his attacker and darts over from the side of the tunnel exit, daring the beast to come after her instead her stupid, stupid friend, “over here! Stupefy!”

FLASH!

Red light of a stunning spell splatters uselessly against the wire-haired hide, as the monster’s howl of pain quickly morphed into a snarl of rage as it abandons the prone Severus to give chase.

Another spell scatters, before Lily tries to dodge far too late, back falling against the reinforced shack wall with nowhere to go.

Then Lily’s snapped up, massive jaws closing over the entire juncture of her shoulder and her neck with a rustling snap. The Shrieking Shack’s dimly lit, but Severus smells the iron before he hears her scream as the creature lifts his friend off her feet, with a sharp jerk to one side, not unlike how dogs would start to shake small animals they catch.

She’s going to die-!

Severus can’t breath and Lily was going to die as his hands scramble for his fucking wand, but then her free arm slaps upward, toward the werewolf’s face.

A pained shriek, Lily’s falling to the ground as Severus raises his wand-

“Incarcerous!”

Conjured ropes appear to bind legs and body as it writhes, bays and snarls as Severus rushes past, struggling to haul his friend up to her feet before shakily half-dragging her past the wild-eyed creature of death and teeth snapping at his conjured ropes; the seconds it takes to get back to the tunnel that would lead out back to the Whomping Willow feel like an eternity.

Not three steps down the tunnel before Lily’s weight is violently ripped away from Severus, she screams as the werewolf does shake her like a ragdoll this time, and then suddenly she’s airborne and bouncing off a wall and onto the floor with an echoing thud.

On the opposite side of the shack, away from Severus and the Whomping Willow exit.

Fuck.

Sick amber orbs regard him aggressively, he could either run or go for Lily again but-

“BUARRR!”

A fucking deer bursts through the door, moonlight bright and illuminating the shack behind it, full body tackling the werewolf with a fierce, mooing bellow. The werewolf barks and snorts, snapping at the deft animal, distracted once again.

The stag fends the monster off, bone-like rack of pointed tines drawing occasional blood and more ear-rattling bellows-

But Severus doesn’t bother wasting time wondering what they hell was going, he grabs his friend and hauls her onto his back entirely, and is halfway up the tunnel before even realizing that he was crying.

He nearly trips again, and dearly hates his awful ill-fitting shoes as Lily groans out wet sort of hiccough.

“Lily!” He half-whispers, half-sobs, they’re at the exit now, his shoulder and back are wet but he can see the moonlight outside, “stay awake, okay?! Just, stay awake, please.”

“S’ a first,” a gurgling sort of laugh and her words slurring together, “hahh, y’ har’ly ev’ say puh-leassssee Sefff…”

What the fuck are you doing here? The boy forgets to scream as he makes the mistake of looking over at the redhead he’s half-carrying on his shoulder, catching sight of the ragged tears in her flesh, her throat is distressingly open and awfully bright even in the poor lighting.

They’re outside now and then it’s a mad dash to the Hospital Wing, Severus is muttering furiously, but about he can’t actually say for sure. Every step feels like a bloody mile, and the ugly mantra of, ‘I should’ve just gone to bed, I should’ve just gone bed,’ repeats itself stupid in his head right next to, ‘they tried to kill us, they tried to kill us.’

Passing another shut, unused classroom, “Lily, talk to me!”

It’s dumb, the fifteen-year-old boy thinks, that he needs to hear his friend let him know she’s still alive while she was fucking dying, after being mangled by a werewolf-!

Shite.

“’L’ft ‘r kn'ffffe,” are the next words, his friend’s good arm patting strangely at his chest, Severus is only two hallways away now, he thinks, “’s’rry.”

“What!?” Severus can’t help but sob stupidly, hating every dumb hiccupping breath of his own that keeps escaping him.

Lily doesn’t respond again.

The last long hallway is a blur, and Severus fights the mounting hysterical thought that he’s carting a corpse instead of his dying friend until the entrance of the Hospital Wing finally greets him. Then his next memory is the image of an awake Madame Pomfrey, now a blur of activity as the mediwitch finally levitates his best friend onto a bed.

Lily lets out a whimper and Severus is so awash with relief that he steps back, and-

The infirmary floor puts him out like a light.

OOOOO

NOTES: Yes, Lily hadn’t stabbed Moony in the face to drop her, the shaking would’ve broken her neck and she would’ve died outright. At first I wanted her to have held onto the knife but I figured that would be a little unrealistic considering everything, so the knife is somewhere on the Shrieking Shack floor along with Lily’s wand. Also Severus hasn’t quite digested the whole concept of how Lily’s gonna be a werewolf too yet, because he had other concerns at the time.

Thoughts?

What else can I except post this on ao3? Holy shit that was intense

[petri808]

From a Man Scorned

Assholes to lovers or enemies to lovers trope I guess lol. Thank you @diabl0sstuff for your help ;)

Bakudeku.  Izuku can’t take the bullying anymore, he’s gonna make Katsuki acknowledge him or else...  But things take a twist he’d never expected and they learn just why Katsuki had pushed him away all these years...   

“What are you looking for Midoriya?” Ochako questions the man who’s rummaging through the kitchen cabinets.  

“Oh, hello Ochako-chan!” He blushes at the bubbly girl.  “It appears I ate the last of my snacks,” he frowns, “guess I need to make a run to the store.”

“Awww,” she pouts too, “I ran out yesterday.”

“Wanna go with me?” He asks her, “shouldn’t take long.”

“I would, but Mina needs help with her homework.”  She taps her chin, “but I did overhear Bakugou talking about a trip to the convenience store tonight.  Something about Family Mart having a sale on energy drinks.”

Izuku’s eyes light up, “that’s perfect!  They should have the latest Shonen Weekly out as well!”

“If I give you some money, could you pick up Hana Yume for me and some snacks?”

“Of course!”

“Great!  I’ll be right back, my money’s in my room.”

While he waits for Ochako to return, Izuku watches as Katsuki comes down from the second-floor dorm area.  The man goes over to Kirishima and Kaminari, chatting briefly while putting on his jacket.  A twinge of heartache settles in Izuku’s chest at the sight.  Katsuki even cracks a grin at whatever they were talking about.  It wasn’t fair.  For years he’s watched this same scene unfold, different people, but the same old Kaachan.  Not the friendliest guy, but when he’s with those he considers friends, the light in his eyes always pulls a spark of jealousy from Izuku.  He wanted to be one of those friends.  

He could never understand why Katsuki wouldn’t be his friend.  Even before his quirk came in, the man always treated Izuku poorly, and once it became clear that he would be quirkless, the taunts became worse, hence the nickname of Deku or useless.  Despite it all, Izuku continued to try and befriend Katsuki.  Their mothers had been friends since they were infants and encouraged the boys to be the same.  His own nickname for the hot head of Kaachan was simply an endearing derivative.  Katsuki hated it though because it also meant mother.  ‘I’m not your mother!’ he used to scream at Izuku.  No, he clearly isn’t his mother.  But the nickname stuck.              

“Sorry to keep you waiting!” Ochako flies down the stairs and hands Izuku a short list and cash.  “Thank you again, I really appreciate it!”

“It’s no problem,” Izuku smiles.  

Thank goodness Ochako had come down when she had, for Katsuki had already left a couple of minutes ago alone.  Izuku pockets the money and rushes out the door.  At first, he doesn’t see which way his friend had gone, but checking both directions, he finally sees the faint outline of Katsuki heading towards the southern campus exit.  Izuku takes off at a full sprint to catch up.    

“Kaachan wait up!” Izuku calls after his oldest friend as the man walks along the sidewalk away from the dorm.  “Are you going to the store, can I walk with you?”    

“Flake off nerd, I don’t want your company,” the man responds without turning around, continuing to walk away.  All he wanted to do was get his energy drinks and snacks at the convenience store and get back to the dorms.  He knew that taking Deku anywhere with him would add time to the trip cause the boy always ended up glued to the magazine rack and that really didn’t appeal to him.    

“But I need to go to the same place as you.” Izuku reaches out to put his hand on Katsuki’s shoulder to slow his steps.  He was heading in the same direction anyways.  “I’ll just be…”

“I said fuck off Deku!” Katsuki rips the man’s hand off his shoulder.    

There was no rhyme or reason to it, but something in such a simple move snaps Izuku’s mind.  All he had wanted to do was walk to the store with his friend.  What was so bad about that?!  He could be perfectly fine with Kirishima or Kaminari, or really everyone else, but not him.  Every time!  Why did Katsuki have to be so mean to him?!  Dammit, he was tired of being bullied by Katsuki.  All his life being bullied by this man for no valid reason except for what, because he’d grown up quirkless?  Bullshit!  This one small retort levelled in anger cracks the normally positive young man.  He was like a man possessed by the spirit of wrath ready to call upon the hellfire’s to avenge him.              

“Kami I’ve had it with you Kaachan!  All my life I’ve tried to be your friend and all you’ve ever done is pushed me away!  You can’t handle the fact that I’m now your equal can you, is that why you keep pushing me away?!”

Izuku is seething, furious couldn’t explain the intensity of anger coursing through his veins as he stares Katsuki down.  His body was electrified, and his quirk surges within his lithe and cut frame.  He was done with all the bullshit!  It was time to end this with Katsuki once and for all.  Either the hot head would acknowledge him, or he would taste the full wrath Izuku was ready to unleash.  Forget about the favor he was doing for Ochako, he didn’t care that a simple store run has just turned into a grudge match.  

Katsuki laughs, this was just Izuku, he reasoned, really, what was this boy going to do to him, throw a tantrum?  “Tch.  Equal my ass you fucking nerd!  And what the hell do I need a mumbling dork like you as a friend?!”

That was it!

“Fuck you Kaachan!”  White-hot energy red with desire, percolates like snakes over Izuku’s skin.  Green lightning explodes around him making his eyes glow.  It was all too quick for Katsuki to react before punch after kick is landing full-bore over his body.  Izuku was out of control, turning on 50% of his power without a millisecond of thought.  A spinning roundhouse to an uppercut sends Katsuki flying backwards into the concrete wall, leveling 10 feet of it.  All the while screaming with every nasty thing the man had ever said or done to him.  It fueled his drive.  Fourteen years of pent up resentment unleashed in seconds on an unsuspecting man.

“Are you kidding me?!”  There’s no way that Katsuki was going to let Izuku best him so easily!  It takes a second to collect himself and get over the shock, but he launches himself from the concrete rubble with blasts from his hands directly at Izuku.  Izuku braces for the impact, ready and willing to throw down.  The failing light of the day was about to be lit up like a Christmas tree.  

By now, the sounds of destruction had caught the attention of their classmates, and several were peeking out of the front door, while others on the upper floors were glued to their bedroom windows.  It was intense!  The flurry of activity out on the lawn was at a fever pitch.  You could barely see what was happening, only streaks of green or white and blasts of orange or red whipping around like a ping pong ball being thrashed back and forth.  These two were unloading on each other, and all their classmates could do was pray they didn’t take the building down with them.  

Katsuki sets up and fires a pinpoint shot at Izuku, but the man dodges and sends blackwhip to grab him before he can reload.  “Argh!!”  He fights against the shadowed bindings that trap and pin his arms to his sides, screaming, “You dirty bastard!”  Izuku throws him towards a wall, and just as he’s about to hit, he manages to light up his hands at his sides and face them towards the wall, propelling himself away.  Katsuki’s arms are still pinned to their sides but he succeeds in playing keep away with the shadow and the wall.  

“Ugh!” Frustrated, Izuku drops Katsuki from several feet in the air.  

The man drops and rolls, popping back to his feet with a taunting smirk.    

A showdown ensues, each staring, daring the other to make a move.  Calculated attacks were both their specialties, but that always flew out the window when they’d fight, more so on Katsuki’s end, but today Izuku was a different man on a mission.        

Izuku balls up his fist, “I hate you Kaachan!”

“I hate you Deku!”

Explosive punches sent at the same time and in the same breath of words collide in a massive index.  The shockwave created send both men flying backwards.  Izuku lands in a tree, cracking it down the center and Katsuki takes down a lamp post.  Sparks fly when the bulb hits the ground and explodes.  The brief pause in the fighting allows onlookers to see some of the extent of the damage.  Both men look like hell and are covered in bloody cuts and bruises.  The damage to the property was by far just as bad.  Large craters and disturbed earth, concrete walls ruined, and now a tree and lamp post added to the destruction.  It was a miracle they’d managed to stay away from any actual buildings.

Izuku scrambles to his feet as Katsuki’s pushing the lamp post off of himself.  They were both exhausted and running low on energy after going after one another at such full strength.  He walks up and stands above his old friend, clutching his arm where it had collided with the tree, just staring and expecting the man to get up.  But strangely, he stays down.    

“Oi, get up,” Izuku taps the man’s foot with his own.  “Or are you conceding?”

Katsuki had to finally admit that Izuku has grown a lot since those days as a quirkless nobody who’d follow him like a fanboy.  It was the first time… he was looking at him like the fanboy, or more like admitting it to himself.  There’s always been a deep, dark secret as to why he’d pushed Izuku away all these years and one he didn’t know if he was ready to divulge.

He lets out a deep exhale.  “You win Deku,” Katsuki looks away.  There was no malice in his tone, no animosity, just a tired man who’s accepted fate.  “You win okay?”  

‘OH MY GOD I BROKE KAACHAN!’  Izuku’s jaw drops.  He was shocked.  Katsuki doesn’t relent.  Something was wrong!      

A bubbling feeling pools in Katsuki’s gut the longer Izuku stares at him.  It may have only been seconds that were passing, but it sure felt longer.  The man fronting him had gone through fifty shades of red.  What was up with Deku?!  First, he was so pissed off, he flew at him in a rage and now he was standing there like an idiot flushed or blushing.  Ugh!  Typical Deku!

Izuku drops to his knees as the gravity of the situation hits.  He’d just beat the hell out of his oldest friend.  The boy he’s always looked up to and admired, and one he held on a pedestal right there along with All Might.  Blood was seeping out of a cut near Katsuki’s temple and another staining his pants leg.  His left eye was bruised and swollen, clothes torn in so many places revealing more bruises and cuts marring his skin.  All the anger Izuku had been feeling evaporates.  This was his friend.  They may not always get along, but whenever shit hits the fan, they still had each other’s backs.  

“Kaachan…. I’m so sorry….” Tears well up in his eyes.  “I-I don’t know what came over me.”

“Tch, figure’s you’d apologize nerd.  I ain’t been the nicest to ya so there’s no reason to be sorry.  Besides, you look like shit too.”  Izuku’s eyes, brightened by the moisture clouding them along with the silly sad look on his face made Katsuki’s heart flutter.  He looks away as a light tinge of pink spoils the serious expression he’s desperately holding onto.  

Katsuki sits up with one leg straight, the other bent, checking over his own condition.  His body ached and stung worse than any fight he’s ever had with a villain.  He runs a finger over his split lip, licking at the wound, and flinching from the sting.  Izuku really got him good this time.  It almost brought a swelling of pride to know who he’d chosen….  Katsuki shakes his head, ‘don’t do it, don’t do it!’

“Please forgive me Kaachan,” Izuku extends a hand to Katsuki, “I’ll help you to medical.”

When Katsuki looks up, his resolve withers away.  He didn’t know if it was the scant light of a lamp post haloing Izuku’s head, the bright flash in his friend’s eyes, or the dimpled smile… the stupid, goofy smile that is the epitome of Izuku’s innocence that finally cracks Katsuki.  Okay fine!  There’s no point in denying it.  He’s in love with Deku and has been for a few years.  This irritating mouse with a heart of steely gold that was everything he wasn’t.  A yin to his yang in terms of personality who’s been with him through thick and thin since they were in diapers.  

“Okay.”  Katsuki takes hold of Izuku’s hand, gripping it, but instead of letting the man pull him up, he pulls Izuku down so hard it sends him off-kilter.

“K-Kaach…”  Izuku’s stumbles, his hands flying forward in an effort to keep himself from falling onto the man.  

The hand Katsuki has gripped, he moves and places against Izuku’s chest to slow the man’s decent, while the other swiftly runs over his cheek, fingers sweeping past to the back of Izuku’s head, and pulling downward.  Katsuki raises his own head and meets the man halfway, letting their lips collide.  ‘So soft…’ why was he surprised?

Off in the distance, they could hear muffled yelling, but neither of them could understand a word Aizawa was yelling.  The whole situation was a mind blur.  Izuku was in blissful disbelief that Katsuki was kissing him, kissing him!  And as he lay there prone and propped between the man’s legs, all he could think about was how surprisingly sweet Katsuki tasted.  Stupid thoughts, ‘Must be the nitroglycerin…’  He never wanted to stop kissing this man!  Until now, Izuku had never thought of his old friend in such a way, but things can and do change.

Katsuki puts an arm behind his head as a pillow, as Izuku gives in and relaxes completely against him.  The other enjoys its place, cradling and running its fingers through Izuku’s unruly, but velvety green hair.  Everything about this man was soft and pliable, so much so that Katsuki imagines molding to Izuku in ways that would make any one blush.  Izuku fists at his shirt, and that brings a twinge of pleasure to Katsuki to know he was just as into him as he was into Izuku.  

“You really can’t rid of me now,” Izuku teases.

“Yeah…” Katsuki responds with little kisses at the corners of Izuku’s mouth, “don’t remind me…”

By the time Aizawa and All Might arrive, the two men were still lip-locked and making out right on the edge of the sidewalk completely oblivious to the crowd of students that had finally felt safe enough to venture out of the dorm building.  The two teachers, usher the students back in amid camera clicks, then assess the damage.  The destruction was evident all around the area, including the boys themselves who looked like they’d been through a war.  Tomorrow, they would mete out a punishment, but considering these two boys had finally found a truce, who were they to break things up just yet…

[spnsimpleman]

With the strike of a match.

Dean x unknown Daughter, Sam x unknown niece, 

Anonymous asked: Hi this is a weird request so stay with me, I was wondering if you could do a spn x reader series where the reader is deans unknown daughter and when he finds out about her he goes to get her but when he finds her she's nothing like he expected, she would be a cold hearted badass, hopefully a street fighter or gang leader (weird I know) and she knows about the supernatural because demons or something killed her family. Like I said this is weird but I've wanted fine like this forever!Thank you!!!

This will be a short series based on this ask I received a little over a year ago... I think. Sorry anonym, but if you’re still with me, I hope you love it!

Word Count: 1413

Arsonist’s lullaby by Hozier

The strike of a match. A quick inhale of its cleansing fragrance before its fall to the ground. Within those milliseconds, I gazed at that little piece of wood with its tiny flame and marveled at how something so small, so common, when put in just the right environment could tear down cities. The giant felled by a pebble.

How such a big splash could come from such a miniscule thing. A tsunami in the making.

A quiet whoosh accompanies the intensifying sweet smell of my chosen accelerant and then the heat of the slow building flame. It reaches for the accelerant along the ground, the wind helping it along as it devours like the greedy pure soul it is, slithering along the ground following the path I mapped out for it. Pure. Competent. Obedient.

I take one last look at the picture with four smiling faces. Four kids who thought they had the world by the balls. They were the exception. They would be different from all the horror stories. Just four more kids that found out they were wrong. They knew nothing of how cruel this world could be. Nothing ever changes.

There are no exceptions in this world. Not in this neighborhood, at least.

I press my lips to the slippery photo paper already heated by the air around me.

I say my final goodbyes.

“For you,” I drop the photo into the flickering flames in front of me. The explosion of heat from the nearby building barely touches me. “I’ll see them burn.” My insides match the heat but, in this moment, I am numb.

The smiling faces turn grotesque, sneering then melting completely away.

Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.

For a single brief second, soil falling on a coffin dominates my vision and I shake the image away. Not today.

I turn my gaze to the building and wish it could melt just the same, but things built with that kind of workmanship take time. I know a thing or two about time and how much patience it takes to make things right.

“My boys, I love you.” I had thought about carving their names into a wall of the building but I wouldn’t disgrace them that way. Their names deserve a better place and I vowed to give it to them.

I pull my hood up and turn away from the inferno. The roar of the sirens so far away but in eight minutes, they would be in my path. Not enough time to save the building, not with what I’ve done, but they will try because fires spread and the mayor wouldn’t want our trash to spill into his precious streets on the east side.

His deal was quite clear about that.

For Darius and Marco. For JJ and Serenity. After years of work, I was finally ready to rip it all down, brick by fucking disease riddled brick. I will watch it crumble and it will be my hand that caused it. I’ll make sure he knows it.

I may not be the beginning but I will be its end.

~~

Sam Winchester sat in the library of the Men of Letters bunker going through his emails and checking all the alerts that came in overnight. He brought his coffee mug to his lips as he cleared another false alert and questioned his search parameters. He tipped the mug all the way back but still nothing. He looked into it with a sigh and glanced over his shoulder toward the kitchen trying to remember if there had been any coffee left. Dean didn’t always refill the pot but he might have skipped that step this time too.

He rubbed his face, deleted the junk email that somehow got through his damn filters and growled. Today was not going to go his way.

The next email filled the screen, an APB with the picture of a scowling teenaged girl suspected of Arson. “What the hell..?”

Sam leaned forward, placing the mug on the table and skimmed the bulletin. He looked at the subject of the email, thought you might want to see this. It was from a Sheriff they had worked with on a case years ago. But why send him this? It didn’t look like it had anything to do with their kind of work.

Sam frowned and clicked on the connected file. Her arrest record was impressive for a twenty-year-old. He scanned the charges, everything from loitering to resisting arrest to a handful of different drug and assault charges.

He looked at the picture again, not really the face of an addict. There was something familiar about her but he couldn’t pinpoint it. He skimmed the information again and his gaze froze on the guardians listed.

Mother and stepfather deceased- apparent animal attack.

A list of old foster home placements and a final note by the last one. She fled at sixteen.

DNA link: Dean Winchester. Deceased. There was an attachment with his arrest record.

“Holy shit.”

“What?” Dean strolled into the room with a coffee mug in hand, his robe tied around his waist, his slippers scuffing across the floor.

Sam turned wide eyes on his brother, opened his mouth, and closed it. He swallowed then looked back at the screen, scrolled up to the top, and turned the screen toward him.

Dean walked over and leaned down scanning the email. “Damn, girl.” He scrolled down, clicked on the link and whistled. “Kid’s been busy. So, what’s with the arson charge? Changeling? Wendigo?”

Sam shook his head and clicked back to the girl’s information, scrolled until the guardian portion was in the middle of the screen. Then he took the coffee mug from his brother and waved at the screen.

Dean frowned at his mug Sam placed on the table before turning his focus back to the screen. He scanned the info, leaned closer, and then jumped back. “What the fuck is that?”

Sam’s brows rose as he stared at his brother, “what does it look like?”

“Like bullshit, that’s what!” He looked back at the screen, “who the hell does DNA tests for a fucking APB.”

“Well, considering her rap sheet, I’d say it was done before and put on her record for a reason. Maybe the cops really wanted a reason to put her behind bars.”

“Looks like they never succeeded. Most of the big offenses didn’t stick.” He smirked at that.

“Spoken like a proud parent.”

“Shut up! This is obviously some kind of set up.”

Sam quirked a brow, “for who? You think you’re being set up?”

“No, this kid obviously is. Cops are probably pissed because the kid is smart and got out of everything they tried to put her away for.”

Sam crossed his arms over his chest, “yeah. Her parents were killed and she was shoved into the foster system, that she apparently didn’t agree with, and now after years of building a rap sheet, the cops are trying to pin a pretty big arson on her.”

“What the hell are you looking at me for?”

“I don’t know. Guess I’m trying to decide whether to say I told you so or not.”

Dean stabbed a finger at his brother, “I am always careful.”

Sam raised his brow, “hmm… what was that Amazon kid then?”

Dean frowned, “extenuating circumstances.” His hand fell to his side and his gaze veered back to the computer.

Sam shook his head, “condoms don’t always work, Dean.”

“What are you saying? That I should drive there and help this kid who probably doesn’t even know who I am? You really think that kid is gonna give a shit that I was her sperm donor?”

Sam scrolled up to the picture, a mug shot probably a couple years old and understood what it was he couldn’t pinpoint before. “I think she deserves someone to give a shit about her. Whether you like it or not, she’s a Winchester.”

Dean clenched his jaw and looked back at the screen. She had a few of his features and looked a little too much like Mary for him to completely turn away and ignore the DNA as false. 

“Fuck!” He snatched his coffee from the table before Sam could drink it and spun away, stalking back the way he came.

“Where are you…”

“Taking a shower and then prepping for a drive. If you’re coming, take a damn shower, you smell like a wendigo.”

Part Two- With a wink and a smile.

[ursoself-satisfying]

Thank God It’s Christmas

yes!! soft 80′s deaky tho ::”””)))))

John Deacon x F!Reader, NSFW 

A/N: based on some requests!!!! 7.7k words, took me longer than i thought it would yet its still rushed?? kinda wanted to sit on it but i also wanted it out on as close to Christmas as possible so here she is!!! not as fluffy as i originally wanted or intended but i might do a soft sequel idk im not much for sequels but we will seeeeeeee,,,,, also rip my generic ass holiday title,,,,,, so anyway happy boxing day!!!!!!!

Warnings: NSFW, no intercourse just blowjobs at Fred’s house, s w a l l o w i  n g, kinda kinky?? language and commitment, big sub!john here guys sorry,,, theres fluff at the very beginning and BONUS at the end is fluff if u wanna skip to it!!

playlist!!! vvv

 https://open.spotify.com/user/criceloni/playlist/7CoaeajkS0DyoCcJvimPQH?si=CG5La36PQzmLpyLInPlr-Q

Deaky’s foot tapped against the cold tile floor at a rapid pace, twice that of the holiday music echoing through the spacious building. Anxious energy circulated through his veins for no reason he could figure yet. The masses of people around him, strangers mostly, in uncomfortably revealing ensembles pushed against him as he did his best to stand his ground in the entryway of the lavish house. Gilded accents adorned the perimeter of the ceiling, reflected the sparkle of the excessive fairy lights wrapped around every inanimate object within five feet of an electrical outlet. The colors varied from string to string and right then the bassist was standing beside a particularly bright bundle of rainbow bulbs that were strung halfway up the staircase banister. Perhaps it was the blinking and flashing of the decor and the poppers or the loud noises of the party horns and fireworks- He knew that wasn’t what was causing this dry feeling like his blood had turned to sand and he was weighed down where he stood. A tingly sort of feeling encased him in the form of holiday anxiety. It was the emotional tinsel of holiday maladies, properly named as such because of the irritating and hazardous tendencies of it.

John tried to distract himself from his attempted denial of having such an issue by focusing on what he was even there for. The party? Well, that part was for Fred and the rest of the boys. They all came together, having brought their subsequent other halves to enjoy the celebration with them. His other half, however, was late and that sent him into a natural flurry of worry. Why hadn’t she arrived yet? Where was she? Was she ok? Had something happened and he didn’t know? Deaky wasn’t a weak-willed man by any means, nor did he lack confidence, but he did have an excess of love which unfortunately came with a side order of fear. How early in the relationship was too early to say ‘I love you’, he wondered, or perhaps say something more. The first bridge had been overcome probably quicker than it should have. From the moment he saw her, he knew he loved her, he would say, but now it was time to show that. He wanted to solidify this feeling and ask her, after all that she’d done for him, if she’d be willing to spend the rest of their lives together. That’s what he’d been wanting to say to [Y/N] all month but had been putting it off for a special evening together. He’d had one planned, actually, but the party had taken precedence over his private arrangements. No one had meant to throw off his plans, no one had known he’d even had plans. Of course, he couldn’t say no to those shining round eyes as Roger had really insisted the two of them attend. [Y/N]  was all for it, loving the idea of spending the holidays with the boys without considering what kind of parties it was that Freddie threw.

It had started out nice enough, to be quite honest, but of course, every plus one had a plus one and the door was eternally open at the singer’s shiny new home so the “little get together”, as Freddie had so fondly called it, quickly passed capacity. A drag queen emerged from the hall beside John carrying a man in a leotard with a pink glitter beard. He subsequently held an entire bottle of red wine which he graciously poured down the queen’s front. It dripped and stained both of them as the one in the dress stumbled against the doorway with a booming laugh, caught themselves, then continued through the foyer. John had jumped out of the way, aware that they weren’t aware and if he didn’t move himself he would be move. He watched the two continue to trip and stumble through the tight, growing crowds of colorful fabrics and feathers, always somehow managing to stay upright. Quite a feat to be partying, or doing anything really, in studded 12-inch heels, Deaky thought, though he’d seen far stranger things in this house.

A tap on his shoulder caught him off guard and he turned quickly, only to come nose to nose with the exact person he’d been longing for. [Y/N] stumbled back at the man’s sudden spin and surprised look. She laughed loudly at him as she watched his entire face light up at the sight of her. His smile was soft and buttery and the crinkling at the corners of his eyes was like rays of sunlight breaking through the leaves of a snow-covered tree. It took a millisecond for her to take in all his features, soft nose and chin and cheeks framed cushiony lips and a gap-toothed smile that seemed to melt all the cold of the outside off your shivering bones. John disregarded her reverent moment of appreciation, as he was ignorant of it occurring at all, and engulfed the woman in a tight embrace.

She was glowing when he saw her, nose and lips pink and chapped and skin tight from the winter freeze she’d walked through. She sniffled to keep the snot from dripping drown her upper lip and her dry eyes watered from the environment. He thought she looked absolutely beautiful. “I hadn’t even noticed you’d come in,” he said, lips pressed against the side of her stiff face. His fluffy mop of hair filled in the space between their heads as his hands dug into the padded layers of the heavy overcoat she wore. His warm breath was hot and startling on the frigid hairs on the back of [Y/N]’s neck. Her nose was pink and numb from the temperatures beyond the threshold of the mansion, but she could still smell the contrasting remnants of booze and aftershave in her lover’s hair as well as soaked into his holiday sweater. Her arms were stiff by her sides, gloves in one hand and a large canvas bag in the other. Though the heat of his body against hers was a warm relief, the freeze had yet to wash from her. Upon noticing the lack of movement coming from his companion, the excited brunette let go, slipping his palms over her cold fingers instead.

“I’m sorry, John, I didn’t mean to surprise you!” She laughed and pecked a quick kiss against the corner of his mouth. “Hold on and help me with this, would you?” Straight to business, she handed him the oversized bag in her hand. It was painful for her to let go of him, but she did so nevertheless and proceeded to rid herself of the layers of warmth she wore. Beneath the furs and sweaters, her form was revealed and the poor musician beside her nearly dropped the bag he held. Every part of her was stunning and every time she showed himself to her he was just as awestruck as the first time. Every time since then he’s prayed the fit of his jeans would act as a functional restraint for the way she made him feel.

She’d hung her knits and overcoats in the closet beneath the stairs. When she’d opened the closet door, she was welcomed by a face full of sequence and an explosion of dangerous looking leather straps. Carefully, she placed her items near the back where they were least likely to be contaminated y feathers, glitter, or other transferable fabrics. “Feel a bit out of place dressed so smartly,” she started smoothing out the front of her garment, “didn’t know the dress code was Carnivale showgirl otherwise I would have dressed accordingly.” With a small laugh, she turned to John who stood open mouthed and unresponsive. “John?”

A solid pat on the arm should have shaken him from his trance. His eyes had caught hers, twinkling in the festive lights she stood by, all the colors becoming a kaleidoscope over her irises and he lost himself in it. [Y/N] was used to this by now, this dazed look he would have sometimes. She recognized it as one of utter love and didn’t mind the price for such a moment was repeating her side of the conversation. Chuckling, she softly hit him again. The man made a confused noise, like the whine of a puppy, and his lips trembled for a moment before forming a sheepish grin. He cocked his head to the side apologetically. “Sorry, I- I did it again, didn’t I?” His laugh was warm and familiar. “What were saying, love?” His raised brows urged her to continue.

The closet door closed with a quiet clack and [Y/N] went to take her bag from him. “Nothing,- Nothing, just- I look a bit out of place, don’t I?” She leaned close to him as she said this, scrunching up her nose and smiling as she observed the loitering guests who passed through the halls around them, every item they wore caught the light in blinding ways.

John looked back at his partner and bit his bottom lip with an amused smile, “I think you look lovely.”

[Y/N] tore her attention from the gentleman strolling past them, clad completely, completely, in leather with only a hole where his mouth should be. The sweet face beside her was a stark contrast to her surroundings and she melted a little upon meeting his eyes which never strayed from her, regardless of what may have been hovering around them. “You always say that.”

She breathed a thankful sigh and Deaky eagerly responded, “Well, that’s because it’s always true. You do always look lovely.” She shot him a sly grin, eyes squinted playfully as she shook her head at him.

[Y/N] shyly turned her gaze to the floor, “John-” A burst of noise shook them both, which was saying something for how loud and busy the party already was. A gaggle of girls, quite obviously drunk and giggling, all clad in jockey uniforms, moved through the halls in a huddle. They carried an array of mismatched sporting equipment above their heads and at the end of each one was tied a bough of holly and mistletoe.

“It’s the holly brigade!” One of the guests announced and all the girls cheered and laughed at their name being called.

“No, no! I thought we were the mistletoe militia!” A member of the group shouted.

“The December draft!” Another called out. The rest of the assembled group groaned at the name, little spouts of ‘That’s the worst one yet!’ and ‘Not this again!’ were heard. “Oh, kiss my smooth fuckin’ ass, Bernice!”

“Fuck you, Priscilla! Maybe I will! Maybe that’s what I’m here to do, Goddamnit!”

The quiet couple turned to each and blinked, not surprised but still amused. Apparently, one of the gaggle had sniffed out the two of them and made it their mission to change their position. “Looks like we have some victims!” A redhead exclaimed, moving her hockey stick above John’s head, the festive garnishes hanging from it dangling in front of his nose and swaying often to hit him in the face. He swatted at them defeatedly with a weak smile. The crowds around them cheered at the earlier announcement and began to chant, ‘Kiss! Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!’ John was red in the face, no, deeper than just red. He was the same color as the beetroots Freddie would send them from his garden. The man quickly scanned the crowds, a shaky breath leaving his lips. His fingers walked up his neck to fiddle with his ear, something he subconsciously did when he was flustered. [Y/N] smiled at the gesture, seeing it out of the corner of her eye.

The entire population of the small room focused on the pair of them. The weight of expectation and anticipation mixed to form a bittersweet scent rolling over them. Noses nearly touching now, sharing breaths, [Y/N] leaned in close to her lover, staring into his soft eyes with half hooded ones of her own. “What do you say, John? Give the people what they want?” After a hesitant nod and a shy, but mischievous smile from him, [Y/N] pushed against him eagerly. The audience roared and laughed, whoops and hollers not enough to break the two of you apart. A female voice above the loud whistles and commanded the team of matchmakers to move on.

Lost in each other, John held his girl by her arms, squeezing her tightly. Her still purple fingernails dug into his shoulders as their lips moved in sync. Not that the collision had started at all chaste, but by now it was most certainly the opposite. He tasted like fruity champagne and something salty, she thought, hands snaking up the back of his neck. She could picture him before she’d arrived, securing a place by the snack table, claiming the cheese and crackers she tasted now. Their tongues intertwined sloppily and they rocked back and forth with the pull and push of their want for one another. His large hands cradled her head and kept them together, her hair falling over his long fingers like waves of light.

The heavy sack she carried on her shoulder slipped to her elbow and ripped them apart. “Oh-!” Catching her sides, John laughed. “Sorry-! Sorry,” She chuckled, pulling her ominously full bag up back up her arm. Dragging the back of her hand across her mouth, she cleaned the shared saliva off her face then reached forward to wipe the corners of her partner’s mouth. God, he was cute when he was flustered. His chest rose and fell quickly, blush not fading. His gaze fell down her body. She followed suit and took in his whole form, aware of the subtle bulge below his waistline.

His swollen lips parted and he began to speak quietly, “You’re-”

“You’re too much for me, John Richard Deacon.” She interrupted with a wink. The man mentioned laughed cautiously and pulled away as his cheek was pinched by his pucker lipped lover. “Why don’t you take us to the boys then, hm?” She re-adjusted her bulging bag on her shoulder, looking petite in comparison to it. It reminded John of a child on their first day of school, packs full of far more supplies than they need.

He glanced through the doorway leading to the moonlit foyer, overwhelmed with characters. Somewhere through there, he knew, was the rest of the band. Did he really want to risk the trip? Venture into the great party beyond? “They’re, well,” he nodded towards the most crowded room, “last I knew, they were somewhere in there.”

“Oh,” [Y/N] paused a moment, then straightened up and took a deep breath, inhaling her courage. She looked to her companion and nodded firmly. “If we don’t make it out,” her hand drifted to stroke John’s lost face dramatically, “tell the kids I love them.” A stoic expression stared back at the man before he broke and laughed, rolling his eyes.

“You think I’d let anything happen you?” He cooed, faux offense filtered through the phrase. He pressed a barely tangible kiss to her cheek before taking her hand from his face and lacing his fingers between his instead. “Come on then, Miss Desmond,” with a laugh, he pulled her behind him and they entered the Coliseum.

Though she’d been giggling just seconds before, the mood was irrevocably shifted to something much more chaotic and disruptive as soon as they crossed the threshold from the entryway to the rest of the house. Not to say the mood was darker, because the bright colors and happy faces around them would deny any sadness ever existed there, but the air was heavier. Maybe it was the influx of bodies, making it noticeably warmer around them, or perhaps it was the “party favors” that the guests had brought themselves.

Streamers, though nicely strung at one point, now looked haphazardly flung about the chandelier and rafters. Against the white of the ceiling and walls, the streamers looked almost like the northern lights, all pastel and waving in the wind of the tall open windows. Freddie always did have good tastes, though lavish, [Y/N] thought as the couple squeezed between the grand piano, suffocated in fairy lights and hard to look at, and a large man in a wrestler’s costume. It smelled awfully of alcohol and sweat. By the end of the night, she was sure she would reek of salt and sickly sweet candies. Clinging tightly to the full bag at her side, the girl was jostled around unceremoniously as the crowd bounced to the beat of whatever pop song blared through the speakers.

John looked back over his shoulder at his tail when his hand got a violent squeeze. He was greeted by an accompanying look of terror, cradling her luggage in front of her. Her wide eyes bore into his and, though her discomfort was nothing to laugh at, her wide, thin-lipped, teeth-baring grimace was. The curly haired man couldn't help but smile, full of sympathy for her state. He turned again to face forward as he foraged through the forest of party goers and hopped a few times to gain some sense of direction. When they’d entered, he’d spotted the cluster of chairs and pillows he’d been lounging on earlier and headed that way. There was no counting on the boys to still be there, but he had no other guesses. Glancing back again, he decided his friend needed a break from the journey and pulled off from the mass of bodies, heading up the stairs to the significantly emptier second floor.

Nearly tripping over the first step, [Y/N] rushed up the carpeted stairs behind her boyfriend to the secondary location. There was a couple midway through a hot make-out session in one corner and another very obviously feeling each other up leaning against the banister. The two took refuge in the small hall leading to the bathroom. The party thumped beneath them, physically able to feel the celebration shaking up through the floor. [Y/N] took one last look back at the chaos they’d just left, grateful to have done so. In the pause, she finally let the tension roll off her and she dropped her tote bag at her feet. “Thanks for getting me out,” she started, a bit out of breath. “So, are they up here, do you think?” Turning back to John, she raised her eyebrows in doubt. “John!”

The bassist snapped his head to face the voice calling him, a deep blush spreading from his nose to his ears. Knowing he’d turned from where the 2 men pressed firmly against each, so much so they nearly toppled over the second story railing, [Y/N] didn’t say anything. Judging from his face and a speedy glance at his pants, she could reasonably assume he was a little bit, how to say, frustrated. “Sorry, what-”

“Nothing,” she said softly, assuring without outright saying that it was ok and he didn’t need to be embarrassed. This wasn’t the first time something like this had happened. Their days together were often interrupted by an impatient or emotional Deaky, crimson-faced and needy. He never said anything, his lover was always the on to initiate it when she could tell it was necessary. Poor boy would suffer through it if she wasn’t with such an observant partner. She stepped to the side and looked around the corners. After scanning their surroundings, concluding there were approximately 5 couples engaging in varying activities upstairs (2 in the halls, 2 in the bedrooms, and 1 in the bathroom), she came to the conclusion that then might be an opportune time to help out little Deaky. “Hey, babe,” she started carefully, “Would you maybe wanna duck into this room here?” She nodded at the door they’d been parked in front of in the small hall. “We got lucky, there are no lewd noises coming from this one.”

While his lover wiggled her eyebrows at him, John adjusted his pants and grimaced. Few words had been spoken since they’d changed locations. “Are you sure?” He knew exactly what she was doing. She always did this, she took care of him. He regretted how guilty he felt whenever these situations occurred and she was the one with the initiative to resolve it. God, he couldn’t help that every time he looked at her he was just overcome with want. She had that effect on men or, well, maybe just him, he hoped. It was just the way she stood and carried herself, the way she moved with such grace and promise. He’d seen her far too many times in far too many intimate ways to not have fallen completely in love with every breath she took. Her voice alone drove him mad and she took full advantage of that when she wanted to.

Too often though she didn’t have to do anything for him to get excited. This occasionally caused problems for them, particularly in instances much like the one they were in just then. The two of them would be making small talk, at a party or, or just hanging out with the boys but it would be a social time and an inconvenient one for them to slip away. [Y/N] always noticed, though, as, though the boy was ignorant of it, she never took her eyes off him just as he never did her. His discomfort was like a searchlight for her, obvious and urgent. Too polite to say anything in public and too afraid of messing it up, John never excused himself. [Y/N] always seemed to know how to handle it, though the rest of the band would usually figure out why they’d run off anyway.

There were no friends or guests up here to trick and an empty room right in front of them. It was easy and convenient, “And the boys aren’t looking for us, are they?” [Y/N] cocked her head in question, convincing her other half to take this time to let off some steam. “I want a moment with you,” she spoke in a lower voice now, pulling him towards her by hooking her fingers in the waist of his skin-tight jeans. Their chests collided and John caught himself on her shoulder. Gripping her upper arms tightly, he suppressed a groan, the strain against his erection becoming too much. Her voice, her movement, her command- He was weak, but only for her.

Inches separating them, the brunette leaned forward and was blessed with her scent, that of a garden after a heavy rain, cinnamon sticks, and the familiar backseat of a London cab. “I suppose there’s no harm,” he replied with a sly smile, breathing a soft laugh on her cheek. For a few seconds, he had the opportunity to revel in her presence and in his fragile state it almost pushed him over the edge. Distracted, he stumbled forwards after the woman when she pushed back at the door behind her, slipping in when it swung open. They disconnected as she shut the door after the musician. This gave them a chance to examine the room of their chosen connection.

It looked like Fred’s room to them. The walls were littered with framed photos of the singer himself and old Hollywood actresses. A heart-shaped vanity made [Y/N] laugh but the real giveaway was the king-sized canopy bed in the center of the room. Fur throws covered the upper half of the mattress and the colors of the entire room were coordinated reds and pinks. Romantic, she thought, and very Freddie. “Deaky, take note, I want my life to look like this room.” Heading straight for the lavish looking bed, [Y/N] swept away the sheer curtains surrounding it and dramatically fell onto the plush covers. They engulfed her and she was lost in this sea of rose-colored satins, curling like a cat and twisting through the sheets with purrs and mewls to accompany her graceful stretching.

As the only other person in the room, Deaky was there to witness it all. His attention strayed from the florally patterned trinket he examined on the dresser. She was glowing, shining through the sheer folds hanging from the canopy obstructing his view. True to theme, the way she curled and twisted on the bed reminded John of the same stars hung on the walls. She’d look perfectly fit in a black and white melodrama. He imagined her sprawled across the bed in shadows, donning a silk slip, lace trim slowly sliding up her thigh as she turned, straps falling from her shoulders as she moved- Deaky was suddenly very uncomfortable. His focus locked on the woman on the mattress and his feet took him quickly to stand over her, intention weighing down his every footstep.

Laughing to herself quietly as she buried her face in the velvet throw pillow beside her, [Y/N] didn’t notice the arrival of her lover now planted between her dangling knees. “I’m not sure how entirely appropriate it is to be, uh,” he paused to laugh a bit but as she turned to face him, now aware of his presence and position standing between her legs- His breath hitched. He regretted using the word ‘glowing’ to describe what she was, it simply wasn’t enough. It was like watching a miracle happening before him every time that sultry filter shone across her face. Darkened irises peaking through long, low lashes as she licked her plump lips waiting for him to continue, it all drove him crazy. “How appropriate,” he tried again to get his thought out in broken words, “to be, uh, fucking- fucking on the host’s bed.”

[Y/N] sat up slowly arching her back and pulling her shoulders back in a stretch, her hands making electric contact with the thighs in front of her. She swore she could almost hear the buzzing of the sudden energy surging between the two of them. Her fingertips squeezed his leg, nails digging in lightly to the denim holding him together. A shuddering breath fell from his lips upon the shoulders of the woman below him and it washed over her. She was baptized by his sound crowning her, filling her with the final drops of motivation she needed, knowing this feeling of accomplishment from making him lose control of his basic instincts like this would be rewarded to her tenfold after their rendezvous. The pads of her slim fingers traipsed up the front of his legs and caught the hem of his tight Christmas coverall, tugging on it for his attention, then letting the same clingy digits hook into the belt loops around his waist to yank him closer.

John was hypnotized by the beauty that belonged to the powerhouse before him, lost in the maze of a hazy halo that seemed to always be floating around her. He was pulled from the dreamy vision by a tug on his shirt and his hips being pulled forward. The heat of his lover’s gaze when he lowered his eyes to meet hers bore through him and he could feel his face burning, even more, somehow he was sure he was turning even redder. Her face was level to his crotch and slowly she leaned to press her cheek to it. The obvious bulge was warm and sensitive through the garment as she put her face to it.

Images of her raced through John’s mind when she did this and they were enough to make a whore blush. Some were memories from past coitus, some fantasies he’d been too ashamed to share, but all were absolutely irreverent. One of her with her lips locked around the base of his cock, she was kneeling on a bed much like she was at the present. Her eyes were low and full of lust, dilated pupils making them shades darker than usual. Her makeup was smeared, lipstick was strewn halfway across her cheek and her mascara leaking down her face as black tinted tears rolled down the sides of her face. Her brows were upturned tiredly, past her first orgasm and nearing her second. Her nose was pink and soft, hitting against his pubic hair every time he was hilted in her mouth. He was practically there, feeling the tightness of being deep in her throat, hot and wet and so pleasurable. In the back of his memory, he could hear her muffled gags, feel them vibrating around his cock, sending ripples of ecstasy through him until he came. Her eyes would roll back and the gurgling guttural noise that came from the depth of her stomach as thick ropes of cum flooded her passage. Neck thick with his length, she was overwhelmed, eyes rolling back white, breathing quickening. She had been face fucked within an inch of her life and he had loved every second of it. Her reactions could put him over without effort- her looks, her sounds, every way she felt when she was convulsing around him, milking him for all he was worth.

A cutting snap echoed through the room as [Y/N] had pulled back the elastic hem of his underwear and let it hit the skin across his hip bones. It broke John from the fantasy he’d fallen into. The sting of the snap hung on the red line it left behind. When he finally got over the shock of it, his eyes met [Y/N]’s. She wore a  bemused smile cocked her head with a laugh. “Where’d you go there, rocketman?” At this point, she’d undone his pants and began slipping them down his legs. Slowly, her hands caressed the exposed skin, starting at the slivers shown at the tops of his thighs.

As soon as the jean had inched past the end of his length, his arousal was set loose and sprung upward. The stretchy fabric of his of his undergarment of choice wasn’t nearly enough to hold him in position. His erection strained against the cotton he wore, only stopping it from hitting his stomach and instead having it curve outward. The girl was eye level with the outlet of his want. It was throbbing and stuck straight out, aimed at her, darker at the tip, wet because of his leaking pre-cum. She licked her lips at the appetizing sight and all her lips were wet, dripping in excitement for the feast she faced.

“I, um,” he was going to explain, though reluctantly, where his mind had wandered but was interrupted by his grateful release. A wavering moan played like music to his lover’s ears. Relief engulfed him, he thought, but then realized it was simply the absence of pain and now he was left with undefined arousal and need. A pinch on the bottom of his buttcheek reminded him to continue his story, but when he tried to speak, it wasn’t words that came out.

‘Squeak’ is the best word to describe the sound he made. [Y/N] responded with a pleased squeak of her own and, now that his lover torso was sufficiently accessible, went on to slip her fingers between the fabric and the soft skin at his hips. She didn’t mind the tighty-whiteys to be quite honest. It fit his personality.

“What were you saying, love?” Sparkling eyes searched for his as eager fingers hooked through the legs of his last cover, pulling them slowly down. The waistband slid down his shaft and pushed it down until it was catapulted by the final slip of grey elastic. The slap was quiet and muffled as his slick head collided with the rough knit of his seasonal wear. [Y/N] bit her lip at the reveal and looked up at the even more relieved Deaky. Anticipation spread across his features as he waited to be touched, forgetting what she’d just asked him. She’d completely forgotten as well, dismissing it for the option of palming at the sensitive skin of the cock grandly standing before her, feeling the pulse of his love on the patterns of her hands.

“Oh,” John did his best to taper his breathing from the heavy gasps moments before, “please, please, [Y/N]-” The hand slid up his dick and when it came down, his erection was wrapped in hot digits. Playing down his erect length like scaled on a piano, she rubbed, bringing down the clear stick from his head to lubricate him. She squeezed an unseemly grunt from him and he had to lean against the bedpost to stay upright. His knuckles turned white from the desperate grip he held on the dark wooden pole, the pole of his own finally touched. [Y/N] shifted as her man’s knees fell against the tall mattress, picking up the pace with her hand, then adding another.

“Do you want me to use my mouth?” She nodded and spoke delicately. She held one hand at the base of his cock, threading her fingers through the forest above his manhood and using her thumb to stroke the start of his balls. Deaky’s eyes drifted to her falsely innocent face, struggling with forming a comprehensive answer. His mouth hung open with unspoken want and he swallowed his words before he could throw them back up in the form of a weak gurgle that translated to ‘yes’. “Ok, sweetie, because you asked.” Bittersweet tones flew to his ears while a sudden wet warmth dripped down from the tip of his shaft.

Soft lips enveloped his head and it continued down. Her tongue swirled around the end of his length, rough texture tasting all the sweet excitement Deaky couldn’t hold back. Two hot intakes of breath was all the girl could hear as she took more and more of his erection in her mouth. She was suctioned to his fifth appendage and felt every ripple that made up the skin around his muscle. He could feel her tongue tracing every pulsing vein and he hit the back of her throat, sporadically thrusting into the hot, slick cavern of her mouth. By now his hand had reached to the back of her head and pushed into her, a fistful of her hair knotted in his hand. The bunch he held acted as a rein when he face fucked his lover with increasing need.

[Y/N] ground down into the mattress she sunk into, pushing for her soaking pussy to get some minimum contact. Her hips rolled and pressed down as best she could, sure she was wetting the bed with how aroused she was. One had was gripping Deaky’s bare ass and the other followed her spit covered lips at a quickened bouncing pace. Every time she felt the back of her throat hit the tip of his cock, lips sucking at his base, nose tickled by pubes and teeth barely brushing his blood vessels. She got nostrils full of his scent, musky and hot, like the first hot day after a rain in the city. He hilted himself in her and gasped so grossly and desperately, she was sure it could be heard outside the room.

When John looked down, it was too much like his fantasy. “God, fuck- please,” he begged, “swallow.” Her pleading, glistening eyes narrowed and the wave of pressure that rolled down his shaft from her tightening tongue brought him to the edge. Curses and dirty, profane things spilled out from his normally clean lips, seeping through the cage of his teeth in an eye-rolling ecstasy. The flood of sounds that drove through [Y/N]’s ears brought her an accomplished feeling until the stream of hot white love filled her cavity. She grunted through her filling mouth, pushing down the thick liquid from her lover. She gulped it down gutturally, hot wave running down her chest as it traveled. Her hands were tightly holding to his sides, hiking up the thick sweater still handing off his thin form.

Like an hourglass filling with sand, Deaky felt pin like tingles roll through him from his toes to his head as he came. A shiver ran down his spine and every muscle from his softening erection out tensed. He twitched in the wet velvet sleeve of his girlfriend’s throat. Knowing that every spurt shot down the tunnels and to her stomach got him off even more. It was disgusting from a blatant perspective, but fuck, it was so hot. She took it all from him so willingly after his ask. The stills of his best memories sped across his mind and it nearly perfectly matched his view with her hair pulled back in his balled hand and longs long, shining from smeared excitement left across her face. Nothing could make the situation less arousing but there came a point when he had nothing left to give.

Lips ‘o’ shaped and eyes shut, to [Y/N] he was a vision of pure beauty. His hair floated above him in a soft halo and he was angelic. No light shone off him, no reflection of holy images resembled his position, but he was still an angel. His release had come quick but it was no surprise to his partner. Downing the last of his salty high, [Y/N] continued to move and milk his dick for the last of his cum, final drop on her tongue mixing with her swishing spit and following suit as she swallowed one last time. Her mouth popped off his end and she wiped away the mess around the orifice with her sleeve, immediately regretting doing so afterward. Deaky hovered above her, breathing heavily, unevenly. She could almost see the hot puffs leaving his mouth like a little dragon, the cold of the season not entirely being kept out of the home but the both of them too hot and bothered to notice. Her own breathing was strangled and could be heard through the room.

A rush of feeling finally returned to the man standing and he lowered his gaze to meet that of his partner’s. She smirked at first, but it quickly turned to a tired laugh as she moved to attempt to fix her unseemly hair. “Thank you,” he said quietly. He gingerly tucked his limp extension back into his stretched underwear and sat down limply beside her, not bothering to pull up his tight pants at all. [Y/N] placed a cold, damp hand on his hot thigh. They turned to each other and smiled softly. Her free hand went to cradle the side of his face and press her lips against his, pulling him to her. They remained connected while she lifted herself from her kneel and scooted closer to him. One hand slid up his thigh while they beat their lips against one another in sync. It took all her self control not to encourage the growing ache echoing from her core as she pushed hard against the man beside her. She tasted like hot skin, like sweat and salt and underneath were subtle hints of holiday chocolates and candied apples, but overall, she tasted like him. He could feel himself on her lips and he pulled away. She looked dazed and a bit disappointed at the sudden lack of contact. “I don’t think it’s the best idea to get this started again,” he said, though his eyes hung on her parted, swollen lips, “not here or really right now-” He saw the way her thighs clenched when her squeezed his slender fingers around her forearm. His neglect drove guilt through his bones and he tilted his head slightly with a softened look. “I’m so sorry, love-” It was more than a whisper, but only barely rising above the low level when she kissed him again.

This time it was softer still. Her lips on his, curled in a forgiving smile and warm but only for a moment. “It’s Christmas, Johnny, a time for giving,” she spoke quietly against his lips.

“No, it’s not, I wanted to ask you something tonight- It was supposed to be about you- I had plans-” He stuttered.

“Save them.” In her eyes, he could see some knowing shine, some reflection of himself to calm him down from his rising worry. She broke the eye contact with a sideways glance and continued with a sweet smile. “Anyway, I’m flattered it takes so little to get you up for me,” her hand ghosted over crotch before retracting and smoothing over the tops of her legs, “but sometimes, to be honest, I think it’s more the tightness of your jeans than it is me that gets you so-” Pausing to stand, she continued, “eager.” With a wink, she extended a hand to help the bassist up off the deeply plush bed. He smiled back sheepishly and accepted her assistance, struggling to pull himself up. Once he did, though, he waddled a step forward then pulled the very fitted pants back up, making himself decent again.

[Y/N] started a leisurely walk back to the door, signaling John to follow. He did so and they shared the same thought, embracing one another in open arms. [Y/N] hummed against the heavily festive knit shoulder of her lover. “So, do you think we should go find the boys now? I brought gifts and I’d like ‘em to see them before they pass out or are drunk beyond belief.” She breathed a laugh and her hot breath his John’s ear. He shivered then pulled back with a laugh.

“Is that what’s in that great, hulking bag of yours?”

“Well, what else? I’ll get it and we can-” She reached for the door and swung it open, only to find an empty space where her sack had once been. Deaky thought he could feel the air chill upon the woman’s realization. “MY FUCKING GIFTS-”

Somewhere in that mansion at that very moment, there was a group very drunk, very loud girls with very persuasive sports gear wandering around and delivering presents to every physically engaging couple they could find, starting by handing a signed Cheap Trick album to an incoherent drag queen nursing an oversized martini. There was now a who man wore a new sweater covered in cats and a woman had a coordinated set of sunglasses all on at the same time, meaning 6 pairs lined up on top of one another, wandering around as well. With a distant crash, a very nice custom pair of clogs was thrown through a high window and oblivious to this all was a couple, upstairs, in the host’s bedroom.

BONUS:

The light shining through the open window woke the woman up first, but the sleep was shaken from her when she reached out for another warm body to comfort her shivering one. The thin sheets were not enough to block out the cold over her nakedness. Rolling over with a grumble, she looked at the clock. 10 A.M. on December 26th. Christmas was over and everyone was better off for it. So what if no one had gotten any gifts intended for them? They’d had each other last night and that was more than enough for her, though the sting of losing her work still hung on her ego. She tried not to think about it. Instead, she sat up and scanned the room for her boyfriend, upset by his absence. Then from around the corner, he came, clad only in fresh boxers and contrastingly the same soiled sweater from the night before. He was blurry n her sleep crowded vision and she questioned him as she rubbed her eyes. “Deaky, baby, what have you got there?” Her words trailed off into a yawn and she stretched, eyes closed, though she could feel the mattress shift under her lover’s applied weight.

“What I wanted to ask you- Well, what I mean to say- What I wanted to ask you about last night- Oh, well,” he laughed softly, sounding like he’d only just woken up as well. The woman in bed blinked slowly at him and leaned her body towards his heat, hands finding his arm. The man watched her lovingly, starry-eyed, fingers fiddling with his ear. He took one smaller hand in his large ones and placed a cold circle to her palm. “This isn’t really how I wanted to do it, but then I thought it didn’t matter how I did it- I realized I just needed to get it done.” Slowly, the same realization washed over her face and she stared at the shining round object in her hand, suddenly very awake. “I had planned to do it last night, but, well,” he chuckled and his gaze fell shyly for a moment before he was back to intently observing his lover’s reactions, “it was a bit crazy and things got in the way and I just wanted to say-”

Tears welled in the girl’s eyes, pulling them away from the modest diamond ring that sat cold in her cradled hands. When he looked at her, tears came flooding to his eyes, too. He laughed through the rolling drops, wiping them away quickly and smiling wide with crinkling eyes. “I love you, [Y/N] hopefully Deacon,” he enunciated the future name, “and I would be-” Chocking on a sob, he continued, “Would you please do me the grand pleasure of becoming my wife?”

Large dollops of tears fell freely from both sets of eyes now and wet sobs filled the room. She laughed lightly and nodded, hesitantly at first then eagerly. “Yes, yes!” A guffaw escaped her and her future husband snorted in response. They were both laughing now, crying and laughing sitting on their bed in the late morning, Boxing Day. From the outside, it may have seemed like an odd or even uncomfortable scene, but then they threw their arms around each other, no need to communicate with any verbal expression. They knew one another inside and out, maybe more than they knew themselves. She melted into him and held his curly hair close to her. She breathed hotly and sniffled. “This is a wonderful Christmas-”

“It’s Boxing Day, darling,” he whispered with a gentle laugh.

“I love you so much, John Deacon.”

[tricksters-captain]

Negan imagines - The Blame Part 16

AN: Season 8 is really pissing me off with the dragging on and lack of Negan.

Catch up here: (Part 1)(Part 2)(Part 3)(Part 4)(Part 5)(Part 6)(Part 7)(Part 8)(Part 9)(Part 10)(Part 11)(Part 12)(Part 13)(Part 14)(Part 15)

Overall Summary: You’re the one who accidentally led the Saviours to the group cause Negan has an interest in you. Rick’s daughter.

In this chapter: Here’s Ricky!

Pairing: Negan x reader, Father!Rick x Daughter!Reader

Word count: 2,005

Warnings: Strong language, violence.

The next few days after Sasha’s death were hard. They were really hard.

Negan knew that her death would seriously affect you after you broke down in his arms and seeing you so broken, so numb, made his more human side come out. He wasn’t all smart-ass remarks and purposely irritating. 

“Hey.” Negan smirked at you as he leant in the doorway, lucille loose in his grip, his head resting against the frame as he watched you move across the room towards the sink in nothing but one of Negan’s white shirts. 

You looked over at him for split second before turning and leaning against the wall opposite him. 

You watched him swagger towards you, placing Negan down against the arm chair as he slowly got closer to you. 

“I’ve got a meeting in a couple minutes but I thought I’d better check on my favourite girl.” He wrapped his arm around your back and brought himself closer to you. 

You couldn’t help but close your eyes at the warm touch. 

“I’m okay.” You whispered before opening your eyes and looking up at the older man. 

“God, you’re beautiful.”Negan tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear, admiring you. You rolled your eyes. Negan chuckled at this before pressing his lips against yours softly. “Mm-mm-mmm!” Negan hummed as he pulled away. 

“You’ve got a meeting.” You pushed against the older man’s chest and he broke away from you with a smug look on his face. 

“I’ll be back later.” He told you, scooping up Lucille and edging back towards the door. 

“Bye.” You said almost silently as you closed the door on him, falling back against it slightly when it was fully closed. 

Nega clenched his jaw and ran his hand over his face. He didn’t know how to help you but he so desperately wanted to. 

Rick softly pressed his lips against Michonne’s as he was readying himself to leave. He pulled away when he sensed Carl approaching, he knocked off his son’s hat and wrapped his arms around the boy. 

“This is the end. I’m getting your sister back and I’m gonna kill him.” Rick assured Carl as he pulled away. 

“I know. But Dad, make sure you come back too.” Carl almost pleaded, and then Rick embraced him again. 

Carl and Michonne watched him climb into his truck before speeding away.  

Carl wouldn’t admit it but he wanted his dad to come back much more than he wanted you. He thought that you had made a choice and that choice would changed your family forever. 

You left the room when you heard commotion going on outside in the corridor. You had slide into some trousers which were far too large for you and then made your way to where the saviours were rushing to. 

“What’s going on?” You asked, reaching some men at the window by the door to the outside. 

“Well, shit!” You head Negan exclaim. You pushed in between the men to see the outside and what you saw actually surprised you. 

Your dad with guns and shields and reinforcements. It was like something out of a book. 

“I’m sorry, I was in a meeting.” Negan told Rick, gaining your attention again. 

“I see you got your little mudflaps with you. So I'm not exactly feelin' a reason for us to try throwin' lead at each other. I care about my people. I don't want to just march them into the line of fire because I want play "my dick is bigger than yours. It is. We both know it. But I'm also comfortable enough to accept the fact if it wasn't. I'm certainly not gonna let my people die over that shit like you're about to. So, Rick, what the hell can I do for you?” Negan confronted your father. You tried to get outside at this point but the two men that were watching at the window grabbed you and held you inside. 

“Sorry, princess, Negan said you going outside is a no-go.” One of the men told you, 

“Dwight. Your name's Simon. You're Gavin. And you...” You watched Rick as his finger moved from saviour to saviour. 

“Regina.” The woman beside Eugene who you couldn’t see but could hear spoke. 

“––Rick, I'd feel remiss if––” Eugene started but your father was quick to cut him short, 

“–– No. I know who you are.” There was a pause and you could see the smirk on Negan’s face. You fought against the men holding you once again but they’re grip was too tight. “Listen, you five. The Saviors inside. All of you have a chance to survive here.  To survive this. You all can live if you surrender. Can't guarantee it any time but now.” Rick looked right at you as he spoke his terms but you knew he couldn’t see you which only irritated you further. 

“So they surrender and you and your little piss patrol doesn't kill them. That sounds like a good deal! What about me, Rick?” Negan responded for his men like he’d usually do,

“I told you. Twice. You know what's going to happen.” Rick narrowed his eyes at the man and Negan’s smirked faltered but only for a millisecond. 

“I do. I do know what's gonna happen. You don't. You have no idea the shit that's about to go down. Let me ask you something, Rick; do you think you have the numbers for this fight? You don't.” Negan wrapped his hand around the  banister in front of him, his eyes never leaving Rick. “Simon?”

There was a pause and you strained to see what they were bringing out of the sanctuary, after all, you had locked yourself in your room for the past couple days so had no idea what had been going on in the building except for what Negan would tell you. 

“What do you have to say to the Rick and the piss patrol, Gregory?”Negan asked, you rolled your eyes as you realised it was the Hilltops pathetic bubble-wrapped leader. 

“The Hilltop stands with Negan and the Saviours. Any resident of the Hilltop who takes up arms or who supports this ultimatum against the Sanctuary or any of the Saviors, for that matter, they will no longer be welcome in the colony.” Gregory explained, 

“And?” Negan rolled his hand, gesturing for the man to continue, 

“Their families will be thrown out and will be left to fend for themselves.” Gregory added on. 

“And?” Negan asked once again, 

“Go home now. Or you won't have a home to go back to.” Gregory finally closed off his negotiation but you knew that no one on the opposing side would listen to a word that was just said considering they had all gotten this far. 

“You heard the man. Go back to separating wheat and shit or whatever the hell it is you people do.” Negan demanded, 

“Doesn't look like anyone's goin', does it?” The sound of Maggie’s voice made your chest tighten, you missed her but an image of Glenn with his eye hanging from it’s socket and thick hot blood covering his face danced across your vision. 

“Hilltop stands with––”

“The Hilltop stands with Maggie!” You heard Jesus call out, interrupting Gregory.

“I feel like I invested a lot in you, and I am very, very disappointed.” You watched as Simon confronted Gregory before tossing him down the stairs, discarding his useless ass. 

However, your attention was shortly snatched away by an explosion fairly close to the sanctuary. For a moment, Negan glanced back towards the building with you on his mind. He hoped you were watching this just in case you had to get out quick but that would be last resort. 

“Sounds like shit is goin' down, Rick.” Negan uttered, leaning towards the railing in front of him.  

“You "lieutenants" you're gonna have to make up your minds.” Rick warned the surrounding saviours. 

“Maybe we can take a time-out here––” You heard a voice suggest but couldn’t pin it to a face, not like it mattered anymore. 

“No. This has to happen now. This is the only way.” Rick denied him the second of time and you saw a flash of anger on Negan’s face as he looked back at the treacherous saviour.  “You're gonna make me count.” Rick chuckled, “Okay. Okay. I'm counting. 10! 9! 8! 7–––” You had started to fight again as you heard your father asked ‘You’re gonna make me count?’. It was something he used to use on you when you were a young girl. 

This time you managed to break away and reach the doors. 

You staggered outside and the sight of you took the words from your fathers mouth. Stopping him at 7. 

You went to open your mouth but then Negan decided to approach you. 

“Get inside now.” He growled so quietly only you could hear him but with Negan’s back now to Rick, you heard the cock of a gun and followed by the flashes of Rick’s round. 

You felt Negan grasp hold of you and pull you down the stairs, out of the line of fire. 

“Shit!” He roared, and it took you a second to finally react. “Stay down, Goddammit!” Negan bellowed as you tried to stand, his hand tightly gripping the back of your shirt as he tried to get you out the way of gunfire. 

The RV in front of you suddenly went up in flames but for your benefit, a large piece of metal landed right by the stairs. 

Negan spotted this and that’s when he tried to move, only then you noticed that he was injured as he hobbled towards it, dragging you beside him. 

You, yourself, growled at the infuriating situation and then threw Negan’s arm around you so you could help him walk. 

You were so busy, checking his leg for his wound behind the large piece of burnt metal that you didn’t even notice that a bullet had skimmed past your arm, taking a lot of skin off and causing blood to run all down your arm. 

“(Y/n)!” You heard Rick scream your name from behind his barricades. “(Y/n)!”

“(Y/n).” Negan reached towards you, and you ignored him, not even looking at his face. “(Y/n), you’re hurt.” Negan wrapped his hand around your arm to stop the bleeding and that’s when you heard that the gunfire had stopped clanging against your blockade. 

They were retreating. 

You looked around at the sound of nearing walkers and you knew that you had to move somewhere safer than that spot. 

“Come on,” You lifted Negan to his feet and he nodded towards an old caravan that could be used for safety. 

You helped him there and shut yourself in. 

You were wrapping your arm with ripped t-shirt when you heard the door open and close again, emerging you in darkness. 

“I hope you got your shittin’ pants on.” Negan smiled as he had saw who entered. 

“What?” His voice was instantly recognisable to you and you stopped wrapping your arm to look over at the figure. 

“Your shittin’ pants, I hope you're wearing them right now 'cause you are about to shit your pants.” Negan rose and walked towards Gabriel. You stepped forward instinctively and the frown on your face told Gabriel an entire story. 

“I saw her. I saw her but I couldn’t get her.” Rick shook his head, Daryl could see it in Rick’s face that he wanted you back more than anything. 

“She’s a tough girl, she can hang on for us. We can wait some more.” Daryl assured Rick, 

“We can't. He stopped to get me.” Rick informed Daryl. 

“How's that?” Daryl asked, 

“Negan. He was on the ground. I was trying to kill him, and Gabriel stopped to get me.  We gotta start out.” Rick sighed as he rambled, 

“You all right?” Daryl asked, looking past Rick’s bullshit. 

“This isn't all about me. Let's go.” 

(Part 17)

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[sincerelydayyy]

I'll start the commission requests (unless someone else already has! Can you do a one-shot based on this prompt (one of benedicted-cumberbatch's that she gave to me): #3: weird bucket list items - warstan (req. by jankymama)

This was a lot of fun. At first I accidentally almost started writing this for Sherlolly - before rereading it for about twentieth time. The bucket list items (I figured out with my dear friend @whclocked thanks for the help with that) worked even better for our two thrill seekers. So I hope you enjoy this.  also available on AO3 & FF.NET

commission info

here

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John Watson had come to run with things when Sherlock had said weird things like ‘think of it as an overdue break from me’ to goad him into doing things. Being able to take a trip with his wife away from murder and mayhem was a selling point but he hadn’t really had any idea of where they could go. “Anywhere you want.” Sherlock had tacked on as if that was supposed to be helpful.

He was grateful that Mary was his partner in life. She had quickly come up with an alternative method for their trip away. “It’ll be like the honeymoon that we didn’t exactly have.”

“Okay, but it still doesn’t answer the question of where?” He mumbled as he jostled their baby girl in his arms as he burped her.

“You know how usually when people are about to die they want to do all these things. How about we do that but on our own terms?” She quipped as she turned the page in the book she was reading.

“Are you seriously suggesting we check things off our bucket list for our honeymoon?”

“John, think of it this way it doesn’t have to be strictly normal things. I mean we both like danger - don’t deny it - how about some things that other people wouldn’t normally do.”

John mulled over it for a second. It wouldn’t be so bad. “Who will keep Rosie when all of this going on?”

“I already asked Molly and she said she didn’t mind. Plus Sherlock said he’d take her when Molly had to work. They’ve basically worked it out.”

“They work together though.” John insisted.

“Not all the time. You’re not getting out of this John. We have friends who are willing to give us a vacation for a week, don’t you dare ruin this.”

John Watson knew when enough was enough. He knew it wasn’t going to be bad. They had always had a good time no matter where they were or what they were doing.

It would be a good trip, if not a little bizarre.

He had no idea how much he was right about that.

They traveled to Italy first up. Hitting up all the touristy portions that they could before somehow they had grown in popularity with a very dangerous crowd. John had been nervous, but Mary thought it would be fun to get to know them. They were introduced to the owner of the vineyard that they had passed by a handful of times. Mary had mentioned wanting to have a wine tasting and so they took a peek on their second day there.

“You are from London, yes?” The woman who owned the vineyard had a thick accent that almost made it hard for Mary to understand.

Mary nodded, knowing that the best way to get what she wanted was to play along. “Yes, you have a beautiful vineyard.”

“You are kind. It was my grandfather’s which he passed to me and my brothers.” She paused her face lighting up as a newcomer came to the light. A brutish man possibly in his late thirties slipped in to give the brunette a hug and a kiss on each cheek. “I didn’t know you were giving a tour today, boys and I were going to have a meeting.”

He tried to keep it hush hush while also eyeing John and Mary as if they were an unexpected nuisance. It made Mary smile. “Not to worry, um, sir we were just inquiring about the vineyard. It’s nice.”

“Thank you. It is the pride of our family, and the resting place of people who don’t know when to go away. You understand if I am how you say uncomfortable at my second home?”

John understood perfectly, however he knew his wife and she would not let a challenge go unfulfilled. He let out a sigh before trying to coerce his dear wife into coming back the following day – their last day in Italy before heading off to Washington in the US.

“Mary, it’s been a long day. We need to have dinner and call Sh-Harold to see how Rosie is doing.” Mary gave her husband a bored look but caved anyways. She was going to do some recon in the morning before they returned.

“Very well then. Can we come back tomorrow?” She asked John, slightly putting on a show as if she was used to being let down. She just wanted to put them off guard.

John opened his mouth to go along with her but the brutish brother was grinning. “We would love to have you back. Perhaps the whole family will be around and we can all get to know each other a little better.”

John was the least comfortable with this idea but nodded anyways. “Yes. Good.”

He and Mary knew he was going to hate his willingness to go into these murky waters without his trusted gun. Mary still had some tricks up her sleeve though.

When they made it back to the bed and breakfast they had checked into the day before John couldn’t not become an explosive time bomb. “Of course the one vineyard you needed to see had to be involved with the mafia. The Italian mafia.”

“How can you tell?” Mary laughed.

“You don’t make threats like that unless you’re involved in some seedy business. It’s the first and only thing that makes sense in my head.”

Mary patted her husband’s shoulder affectionately. “You’re right but I think we’ll be okay. If all fails we can run with her tails between our legs and head for the airport early.”

John would much rather leave tonight than have to face a group of ruffians who didn’t want them on their land. He was a different man that he used to be. He was still scared of things; of people wanting to kill him but when his wife was with him he was a much more confident scaredy cat.

The meeting between the Watsons and the Moretti family that included several non Moretti’s – the phrase family doesn’t end in blood ran through his head as Mary jovially chatted up several gun wielding men as if it was nothing. John stood close to her muttering very few words doing his best not to fuck up. Unfortunately for this it made he seem very suspicious to those closest to the Moretti siblings they had met yesterday.

“I think he got a death wish.” He heard one of the younger ones mumble. This in turn started a chain of events that involved a knife, a candle and Mary knocking out six of the fifteen she had already noticed carrying weapons when they arrived.

“RUN JOHN FOR FUCKS SAKE RUN.” Mary mumbled as she took off in a sprint ahead of him.

John cursed as he dodged and punched his way out into the maze of vines. They had all but sealed off the way they had come in. This was worse than he thought.

“Don’t tell me this was on your list, Mary!” He yelled as he saw brief shots of her blonde hair as she continued running through the maze trying to find an easier way of getting out besides climbing the furthest wall when they got to it.

She had tucked a few pieces of paper in her shorts when she had the men distracted by talking about their weapons. Guys enjoyed a good shop talk. She had always kept a set of matches on her in case she needed them for reasons she rather not discuss at this moment in time.

“I didn’t want to tell you because you’d get upset but it might have been.”

“MARY WHAT ABOUT US NOT DYING A PAINFUL DEATH FOR ONCE?”

She had managed to ignite a fire with the tools she had. She threw it towards the center of the maze hoping that it would distract the majority of them while John gave her a boost. In a way it had. There were a few stragglers but they did what they could whilst climbing for their lives.

“See. We didn’t exactly die.”

“THERE THEY ARE.” Came to their right as they hopped down.

Mary cursed, grabbing John’s hand and making a dash in the opposite direction. They used the crowds as disguise in order to get to their place of rest to grab their things. Thankfully John had a mind to pack.

They paid a man over hundreds more than they should have in order for him to get them away from the mayhem.

John tried not to be to upset when he watched Mary cross off the line in her notebook that read: Laugh in face of danger before running like hell. Points if the Mafia is involved. (John will hate it.)

He closed his eyes as the plane rose off the ground. “You are maddening but I wouldn’t want to be in this mess with anyone else.” He mumbled.

“Agreed, sweetheart.” Mary echoed as she reached over and clasped his hand in her own, she gave it a firm squeeze.

When they touched down in Washington is was clear that they would be doing nothing the first day but sleeping and perhaps eating before that. John was irritable, Mary was quiet but they both knew what to do to get to their end goal of falling into bed together.

The next morning they still felt out of sorts but John insisted they try to do one thing that day. It happened that tonight was a town hall forum for the small town of Port Townsend. Of all the places they had chosen this was the least luxurious. That would be a nice change of pace from the liveliness of Italy.

Certainly nothing murderous could happen here.

It was a harbor town built in 1792.

The Watson had decided to find a place to get breakfast first thing before joining a small queue of people waiting for the town hall to begin. Considering the crowds within the town were thick during days like this it took them much longer to get their meal and consume it without many interruptions. By the time they joined the fray the meeting was already in progress and somehow they had come across a problem.

John had been hustled up to the podium in the center of the square.

“There we have it, our new mayor is this nice fellow.”

“Oh no.” Mary tried to hide her giggle as her husband looking very confused yet proud for about a millisecond tried to find her in the large crowd of onlookers. Once he did he mouthed the word HELP as if she could have seen this coming.

They just kept getting themselves into situations like this. She hadn’t a single clue how they had picked him. Or how they could have known he would be there? Not unless it had been planned.

When she finally allowed herself to rejoin her husband on the stage she spoke lowly to him. “This will take some time. You’ll have to be patient.”

“Mary. I’m the bloody major in a country we don’t even belong to.”

His wife smiled out at the crowd waving her best royal wave, “Smile sweetheart, you’ll frighten the children.”

John as his habit as of the past few days did put on a smile…for the children. When John had more or less been sworn in by officials he had preceded to panic all the while Mary seemed to be lapping up the attention. He wouldn’t be surprised if she had been a royal in one of her many aliases. Perhaps why it didn’t bother her that he was the one having to deal with it?

He tried not to direct his aggravation at her but once they had been left alone in a singular office it had been difficult not want to shout but the former army doctor slumped in his chair behind the large desk that was now his for a spell.

“How long exactly do you expect it’ll take for this to be seen as a mistake?” He said tiredly as Mary took to sitting on the edge of the desk.

“A day, or two at the most. I’m talking to Mycroft right now.”

“He’s laughing isn’t he?”

“Have you ever heard him laugh, John?” Mary scoffed. The Ice Man was amused, certainly but he had never out right laughed at the expense of someone he didn’t rightly hate. John was something close to a brother of Sherlock’s – beyond blood – that is. It would be silly of him to let him stew in this for too long.

Beside Mary was scared what would happen to this lovely city by the sea if John was here too long. He was a man of order while also leaning on a simple life. This was probably the most unorganized thing he would have to endure. He was expected to run a city that was foreign to him.

“What am I supposed to do in the mean time?”

“Look pretty.” She said with less enthusiasm than he expected. He thought she would be thrilled.

“What is it?”

“It’s not the right office.” She said as if he was supposed to know exactly what she meant. The look he gave her told her to get on with it. He was drained from the hours that all the politics of this took. There had been people glad to have him while there were many others that wanted to toss him out. When a mayor was chosen he was meant to do by the people not run away.

“Well, I always wanted to have sex in a government official’s office.” Mary said as she hopped down.

John sat up straighter.

He had not be expecting that.

“Call it a perk of the job.” He said as he pulled her onto his lap.

Mary was glad she had locked the door when they were left alone. She had not imagined he would have gone along with this.

To be curt, it had been some time. They would blame it on the jetlag later. Mary put it in her top five favorite times her and John and defiled a place and expected to not see it again.

They did endure it for one more day. After being rather bold in his first day in office the second day went smoother. John would not admit it but it may have turned his perspective to something brighter. If being mayor aroused his wife he wasn’t going to not reap the benefits of it.

They made use of it one more time much to the chagrin of Mycroft Holmes who got to hear it from the mouth of strangers the sounds that were being made behind closed doors.

John laughed at the British man citing, “Perhaps you should try it, Mycroft. Might loosen your top a bit.”

He was met with dial tone but he didn’t care.

“That was fun.” Mary mumbled as she slipped her head from under the cover to lay her head on John’s chest.

“Both times.” He commented.

“Four. One yesterday, one last night, and the two now. I think it’s the sea air.”

“Or the position I held for almost three days.”

“You’ll never know.”

“Hey, you’re the one who said…” He stopped. “You didn’t just say that to get me to loosen up did you?”

“No.” She said quickly. “I meant it. It’s actually second on my list.”

 Use your wiles to be elected in a high position.

It hadn’t gone the way she imagined but she wouldn’t change the past forty eight hours for anything.

They decided that the third part of the world that they needed to visit in order for them to check off another part of the list was Japan. You could get sushi just about anywhere but for John to fulfill something on Mary’s list with her knowing he wanted it to be the best. Or at least on the soil of where it originated.

Once again using their first night to grab some food – ramen at one of the many stalls – and then to get some rest in a very high end hotel. This part was paid on behalf of Mycroft Holmes. They had been booked elsewhere but he had gone ahead and changed after they had embarked on their flight. This one had discretion of the highest priority.

If that wasn’t a loosely veiled warning they weren’t sure what was.

They spent most of the day taking in activities that the Japanese had to offer. There was a festival going on so there was plenty to do and eat.

John was adamant that they go for the sushi first seeing as that was why they came. They could devour the rest right after she had her first bite.

“Raw fish was the turning off point, I remember why I never did try it.”

“You put it on your list.” He pointed out as he took to eating one of the California Roll.

Mary watched him for a moment before picking up her set of chopsticks. She had used the utensil a different way before but today she was dining. She picked up one that looked like it had several different meats in it. She gazed it as if it was an enemy she wanted to take down, in this case eating it.

She looked at John who was looking at her with a somewhat hooded gaze and smiled. “You’ll never know until you try.” He commented as if she was a child.

In some way she supposed she was acting like one. She decided to just plopped the whole thing in her mouth. It took some time to chew through all the variations of meat on the Rainbow Roll. “What do you think?” John asked once she had finished chewing and was reaching for a shot of sake.

“Not bad. Hm. Which one should I try next?”

She looked at the array of choices and then decided to let fate decide. It went on like this for quite some time. Eventually ending up with both of them stuffed a little drunk from the nearly filled bottle of sake they consumed between them.

They managed to make it to their room within another hour, carrying to walk leisurely towards the looming building. Along the way Mary had picked out a set of kimonos to take home to Rosie and Molly. Those two deserved something nice. As far as she knew the young girl hadn’t been here before either. There was a first time for everything.

This thought proved fruitful as they settled in for the night hoping to sleep off the food and the sake. Instead Mary found herself in the strange bathroom and everything she had eaten or drinking spewing out like lava.

John wasn’t too far behind her, quickly alarmed that she was sick.

They spent the morning in the bathroom with John wetting a cool towel to help cool her down in between the retching. This was an entirely different affair than the pregnancy morning nausea.

“Food poisoning.” He told her when she all but emptied out her stomach.

He had called for some extra towels and a bucket of ice which Mary eat in small doses. They never left the bathroom.

“I hate sushi.” She concluded.

John smiled slightly at that. She did look terrible but he bent forward and kiss her temple anyways.

John had fully expected her to want to cut their trip short after dealing with that for a day and a half, but no she was not to be deterred. They still had one more bullet point on the list to get to and this one was all John’s.

“I still can’t believe you’ve never gone skydiving. It’s a blast.” Mary beamed happily as they walked down the familiar streets of London. They weren’t to come back home. That had been forbidden until later this night so for the last thrill seeking portion of the trip skydiving was on the agenda. At least for John since Mary was well enough to not be throwing up water, she still didn’t trust herself if she got onto a plane that she wouldn’t end up in a similar state once more. She was glad that John was going to experience this for the first time in his life.

“I was an army doctor, not an idiot.”

“Call me an idiot one more time and I’ll give you this bug I have.” Mary joked.

“Not humanly possible but alright. I’ll bite. What should I expect for this last adventure of ours uninterrupted?”

Mary slipped her arm through his. She was really excited about this one. “Oh, you’ll see.” She goaded him on.

They had to take the tube to the reach the center where they were to meet up the professional skydiving instructor who was going to be with John every step of the way. John was a bit nervous now knowing that his wife wouldn’t be going him. That was going to be the selling point of this all, and he told her as much as they reached the doors that took them inside.

“Once you do it the first time we can come back with Sherlock and Molly and do it as a group. It gets more intense when there is a group.” She told him as she spotted the thirty four year old instructor named Brad who she had spoken on the phone with the night before when they had touched down at Heathrow to remind him that he would only be taking one of them up with him due to some food poisoning.

“You must be the Watsons. Glad to meet you in person. Sherlock Holmes was adamant that I do my very best for his two favorite people on the planet.”

Mary laughed. “Did he really say that?”

“Yes. In a very outlandish tone.” He paused. “I’ve met him several times. He had a case here a few years ago. Took him on his first jump.”

Sherlock’s thought process was not lost on the two blondes. That was why he suggested this place. There was always one thing or the other with that man.

It wasn’t long before the pleasantries were over and John was suiting up to head 10,000ft in the air. Mary stayed with him as long as she could. “I’ll be able to watch you from the cameras they have on the suits to record everything. I’ll be there when you come back down.”

“Okay.” He wasn’t sure how else to respond to that.

“It’ll be fun. Don’t worry so much.” She said while rubbing his arm in a soothing gesture.

“You’ll owe me for this, later.” He told gruffly.

“Later. Sure.” She told him noncommittally.

John snogged the life out of her before he followed Brad out to the plane. Mary bit her lip as her husband retreated away.

She thought that wasn’t very gentlemanly of him. Then she thought about it, he was John Watson. A very emotionally charged man that she loved every piece of. She smiled to herself before going to the small room that had a monitor to show what was happening once John jumped off the plan.

John himself was jittery and Brad could tell. “It’ll be over before you know it, John. Just relax. Think of it as a dream. At the end you get to be with your wife.”

He had a point. So John took a deep breath as the pilot told them they had reached optimum height. Brad asked him if he was ready and with a quick nod they jumped out. John let out a yell of the initial pressure of the wind flapping all around him. It was not the best option of only being able to look down and around the sky.

He had no idea what was below only that he was plummeting further.

The landing was the easy part but also more intense than the drop, but John zoned in on Mary who was grinning at him as Brad withdrew from his position behind him giving him the room to hug his wife. “How was it?” She asked with a laugh.

“Not sure I have the words. It was…an experience.”

Brad laughed. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard it said that way but as long as you had fun.”

John nodded. “Thanks Brad. It was a good first attempt.”

It seemed like some light had been ignited in Brad’s eyes. “Challenged accepted was all he said before returning to the center.

“Oh boy, you stirred his loins for sure.” Mary quipped.

“Off with you.” John nudged her.

Mary rolled her eyes. “You did look like you had fun. Next time we’ll do our own drop.”

“Is that a promise?”

“Just as long as you don’t get me sick again.” Mary teased as she walked ahead of him.

“How is that fair?” John called after her.

All he heard was her laughing.

Upon entering their home once more John and Mary weren’t so surprised when Sherlock immediately handed off Rosie much to Molly’s annoyed glare. “They just got back, Sherlock. Is that anyway to greet your friends?”

They already sounded like an old couple and they hadn’t quite gotten together yet. Or at the very least John hadn’t been made aware if they did. “Do we need to see you on a vacation next?” John shook his head before looking down at his baby girl who was cooing for his attention after the nearly two weeks of missing her father.

“No.” Sherlock mutter while Molly’s exasperated ‘yes’ overshadowed his.

“Not together obviously. I think I need a break from you for a few days.” Molly sighed.

“You don’t meant that Molly.” Sherlock pouted hoping to remedy the situation quickly.

Mary didn’t miss the sudden change in her other child’s demeanor. He did always get a bit saucy after Molly grew upset with him in some regard. If she didn’t know any better something else had happened while they were away.

She hummed to herself.

Molly never really gave him an answer verbally, but considering she did end up in Baker Street for drinks with everyone and was smiling at Sherlock that they must have worked through whatever had gotten her upset.

They had even witnessed a very small moment between them. Very minuscule but enough to sedate Mary’s curiosity of what was going on. A tuck of a curl of Molly’s hair behind her ear and shared smiles of a more than friendly nature.

Mary decided that she would try to get real intel about this when she and girls went out next. She was happy to have experienced some amazing things with her husband who was her light in often dark times. She was grateful that they had friends who went so far from them.

“Thank you, Sherlock.” She told him as he passed by to head into the kitchen.

He stopped short and nodded. “You’re quite welcome, Mrs. Watson.”

She smiled at his retreating figure. He loved them. She could tell.

They adore him too.

[ecotone99]

[SF] They Came From The Moon

Note: I don't care about the real-life details of the real event that's being reported on right now. This is my inspired take on it. Enjoy.

​

It all started when we went back to the moon. And now here I am, about to die. There’s not too many of us left, I don’t think. At this point, they’ve pretty well exterminated us. And they won’t stop until they get every last one of us. I’m certain of that. I’m surrounded now, and I’m not going to get away. There’s nothing I can do.

These damn things are indestructible. You can shoot them, stab them, bomb them, nuke them. And they just keep coming. The most indestructible creatures known to man. And to think they started out microscopic and insignificant.

Fucking tardigrades. Water bears. Moss piglets. Monsters.

Of course, it’s our own fault. These things were perfectly content, blissfully unaware, non-sentient little bugs who never hurt anything or anyone. Fine tuned over bazillions of years of evolution, the little bastards were perfectly adapted to, well, everywhere. Water, frozen and boiling, volcanoes, tropical rainforests, you name it. People say only cockroaches and twinkies would survive world-wide nuclear holocaust, but so would tardigrades. These things can live in the vaccuum of space for jebus’ sake.

At some point we decided it was a fan-fucking-tastic idea to shoot them off to the moon to “see what would happen.” Humans. Balls, we’re stupid sometimes. Not that our smartest minds could have foreseen the events that would happen to transpire a few decades later. At that time, it was no big deal. The tardigrades were dehydrated and cryo-frozen in epoxy, and sandwiched between plates of nickel. And then these plates - no larger than a DVD - were blasted off to the moon, where an Israeli ship crashed into the lunar surface. Oops.

Oh, and also sandwiched between those plates of nickel? Human DNA.

Human DNA and tardigrades. Together. Forever. Why you ask? Fuck knows.

And now here we are, a couple decades later, facing certain extinction. I don’t know if anyone knows how they became what they are - indestructible, slimy, 12 foot tall, sentient (REALLY fucking sentient) tardigrades. I don’t know, I’m not a scientist. Although now that I think of it, there very well may no longer be any human scientists around. So maybe I’m the closest thing to a scientist now. Maybe I’m the smartest human left on this monsterbug-infested planet. And I’m surrounded by them. Not so smart, I’m thinking.

What we do know is that a little over seven years after that initial tardigrade-dump on the moon, we went back for them. We always intended to of course. Scientists wanted to see how the lunar environment - weaker gravity, temperatures nearing absolute zero, the bombardment of radiation (so, SO much radiation) - would affect the biology and chemistry of those little shits, and apparently that of human DNA.

So these discs came back to Earth. A fully automated combination lander/rover/rocket blasted off from Kennedy Space Station in August, 2026. Space X’s latest and greatest at that time. It gently reverse-thrusted it’s way to the lunar surface 42 hours later. The rover unfolded itself from the lander rocket, set its 12 treaded wheels on the dusty, grey ground, and embarked on its mission. It took a little while, but eventually it made its way to a series of craters that upon first glance looked empty. But half buried and scattered throughout the two largest craters, were four DVD sized discs that the rover came for. Nothing else survived. No debris from the crash, no additional components. It was designed that way in case of a crash. You know, don’t contaminate alien worlds and all. Just the discs. Almost as if it was intended that way.

With the discs rounded up and safely stored away, the rover made its way back to the lander - now lunar rocket - and mechanically secured itself into a specially designed niche on the side of the ship. And off it went, right back to whence it came.

So they came back. Seemingly no different than when they blasted off the first time. NASA and Israeli scientists initially reported that the cryo-frozen tardigrades appeared to sustain very little, if any damage, and that they were still blissfully alivedead in their cozy little petri dishes. Re-hydrated, they went right back to their unassuming tardigrade ways, sucking nutrients from mosses and lichens through their face-holes and floating around lazily in saline solution. That’s the last I had heard back in the day, and hadn’t thought anything of it until the mushroom clouds appeared.

That was about two years ago, I’d say. I haven’t kept track. Maybe a bit more, maybe a bit less. It’s either late 2039 or early 2040 now. Winter. Only there’s no snow, there hasn’t been since last winter when nuclear fallout toasted most things and dried it to a crisp.

Those blasts killed most things. Not a whole lot of us survived. Not a whole lot of anything survived. But a few of us did. Cockroaches, and some people who had the wherewithal to shield themselves in time. And a few of us who can only chalk it up to dumb luck. I was out fishing when it started. Deep, deep in the middle of the Rocky Mountains. Considering packing it in for the day, fish-less, when I noticed the sky darkening and grey-green smoke rising between two peaks in the distance. Forest fire was the first thing that came to mind. Until the smoke quickly took a form that is unmistakable. As the mushroom-cap billowed upwards, I turned and ran. Had it not been for old crazy ass mountain man Liam, I’m sure I would have radiation puked myself to death within days or weeks.

That guy was a riot. And I mean, a machine gun totin’, bear trap loadin’, full blown lunatic of a man. The guy turned his small peaceful cabin and surrounding lands in the middle of nowhere into Fort Fucking Knox. That’s what he called it. Only he wasn’t guarding gold (maybe he was?), he was guarding himself. From them lib’ral snowflake soshulists comin’ for his guns. And his rights, he tells ya what.

So by a strange cascade of events that I don’t have time for here - mostly me runstumbling through the brush - I found my way to Liam’s bunker. More like, he found me. At gun point. The man, staring at me down the barrel of a Kalashnikov; greasy, stringy white hair flowing from under a disgusting old red trucker cap with worn once-white lettering on the front. I couldn’t make the words out, but it looked familiar from a time long ago. I thought I could vaguely make out the phrase “...GREAT AGAIN.” After much deliberation I was successfully able to convince him that indeed I was NOT one of them soshulist motherfuckers. I told him our govmint turned on us and were nukin’ us goddammit. I had no idea what was going on, I had to tell him something.

Liam’s place - Fort Fucking Knox - happened to come equipped with a state of the art nuclear fallout bunker. Of course it did. One of those they sold in mail order catalogs back in the 1950s. Better than duck-n-cover. So we holed up for a while. We ate a shit load of baked beans. Luckily, Liam preferred to keep to hisself and for the most part, that’s what he did. We listened to the chatter on his shortwave receivers, which is how we came to understand - mostly - what was happening. Liam didn’t keep TeeVee, or internet, or satellite. Just his goddamn CB radios. Probably a good thing, because I’m pretty sure these things would have found us sooner if he wasn’t so goddamn paranoid. They were smart. Very smart.

Not a whole lot more to report, honestly. Some time has passed, and Liam dies from some shit. No idea what. One day he just wouldn’t wake up. For the best though, I was gonna kill him soon if he hadn’t. I couldn’t take any more of his conspiracy theories, or his baked beans.

Over time the chatter on the CB radios went quiet. They were all getting found. I even listened to a couple good ol’ boys broadcast their own terrifyingly gruesome deaths. The Water Bears found them. It didn’t take long, they found them all.

Now, the bunker is surrounded. I have guns - Liam’s guns - and I have explosives. I have actual hand grenades. I’ve been out of the bunker a bit these last couple weeks, I don’t think the radiation is too bad, I’m only puking once every couple days or so. I’ve taken guns out looking for things to shoot. No animals anywhere, no birds chirping, not even a cricket.

And that’s how I fucked up. You see, I was out looking for anything to eat besides baked beans, when I rounded a group of huge boulders. And I saw it. That thing. It was huge, at least as big as the largest boulder I was standing next to. At first it didn’t know I was there, and it was preoccupied with something I couldn’t see. Then it froze. And much quicker than it had any right to, based on its fleshy marshmallow man contours, it half-twisted around to face me. It’s alien face - is it a face? - staring directly at me. The bung that is it’s mouth/face-hole slowly puckering in anticipation.

We stood there frozen for many milliseconds. Then I acted, pulling Liam’s only AR-15 around and semi-automatically squeezing off as many rounds into its pudgy rice pudding torso as I could. More rounds. I was on my ass on the ground now, the assault rifle having knocked me over. But I kept shooting. It folded in, like a roley-poley and collapsed face-down. I could see brown green goo dripping from the exit wounds on its reverse side. Thankfully, no one came and took away Liam’s guns.

Then they slowly, but surely, closed up. The wounds. They healed right before my eyes, and the thing started to tremble and move. I took off. As fast as my aging knees would let me, I stumbled back through the wild, crashing through the steel barbed front gate of Fort Fucking Knox. I didn’t stop until I was down in the bunker, locked from the inside.

That was two days ago - I think. Not like I’ve slept, and I’ve stopped looking at the clock. I’m not even sure what time or day it was when I got back to the bunker after shooting that thing. I knew, of course, that they were indestructible. I heard as much from the handhelds. Guns, bombs, nukes. Apparently, we (the govmint) retaliated by shooting nukes at Canada. This after the bugs already nuked Canada and most of the rest of the world. Wasn’t much left of ‘Mercia then either. But we still had our nukes.

They wanted to see if we could nuke those bastards. Because perhaps our nukes were better than those Russian nukes that already gave their college-try. Apparently not. Or if the nukes did get ‘em, more just came in their place.

Fucking machetes. One good ol’ boy hacked one up with a machete. Then as he was proudly broadcasting his victory on channel 13.5, the thing got him.

And now, here I am. Surrounded. I know I am, because I’m watching them on the closed circuit monitors. I’m going to die. Not sure if today, or tomorrow, or when, but I’m going to die. At least I’m in the bunker. I’m certain they can’t get in here. Reinforced concrete and steel. Underground. So I’ll just watch them, LEARN them. For my own edu-ma-fuckin-cation. I’ll eat these beans, though I’m only seeing about half a dozen more cans. I’ll drink whatever water is left, also not much. And then I’ll die. Either I’ll starve or die of thirst, or maybe I’ll rig up this whole damn place and blast myself and them to kingdom come. Or just myself. I turned around and puked into an old stainless steel turkey fryer.

I guess we’ll just see what happens. You know, it’s a bit ironic, don’tcha think? For decades now people have been freaking out over the climate changing. Me too. Now I’m in a bunker in the middle of a wasteland. And we didn’t even do THAT shit. People have been freaking out over viruses - these “super bugs”. The flu is goddamn scary these days, for sure. People die from that. At least, they did. Super bugs. Ain’t that some shit. I’m looking at the real Super Bugs right now, in all their closed-circuit, black and white, low resolution glory.

Fucking Tardigrades. Tardigrades from the fucking moon. And yes, we did that shit.

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